#TMR fanfiction

[mae-gi-writes]

Arch-nemesis . Gally (themazerunner)

There's a thin line between love and hate, especially when it concerns Gally.

A/N: I've re-watched the three Maze Runner movies and now I'm obsessed and getting back onto the TMR fantrain so bear with me and the future fics I've already got saved in my drafts TT 3 TT ------

You hate him with all your heart.

Truthfully, honestly. There isn’t anyone you hate more than this stupid asshole that thinks that he’s the centre of the earth.

You met him only when he’d been brought in by Lawrence and a few of his other guys, having been there just for a few weeks prior. Thinking that this might be your chance to make a new friend, you’d sidled over to him with a small smile as you asked for his name. That didn’t go as smoothly as you thought when he just grunted out his name in response and turned away from you like you were a pest instead.

But it isn’t just that. It’s the way he says your name in that really aggravating tone that grates at your nerves. It’s the way he always insists it’s your fault when you’re out on missions and come back with no updates. It’s the way he bullies you and calls you names whenever your paths cross and it makes you want to gouge his eyes out. It’s enough to say that you know Gally now and you know exactly what he’s made of. That, and the fact that you’d stay far away from him as you possibly could if that was an option.

“You’re loading it up wrong shank-face,” he’d tell you as you were re-filling your gun.

“Shut up Gally, I’m doing it properly.”

“Don’t come crying to me when the gun doesn’t work.”

“It’s none of your business if it doesn’t work.”

“It is my business if you’re gonna—“

“Right that’s enough,” your mentor and leader called Jared had to step in, like he did numerous times, to get you to cool off. You’d storm away in a fit of annoyance and irritation, hating how easily Gally got under your skin.

It’s been a few weeks since weird sightings of stray immunes have circulated the area and in reply to this, Lawrence had set you up for a mission with Gally to scout the outer walls of the Last City. That had only caused you to grumble about the unfairness of the situation.

“Why do I have to go?” Your eyes narrow at the familiar tall figure lingering in your peripheral. Gally is busy setting up his weapons as you try to plead your case, seemingly uncaring about your protests, “and with him of all people? We don’t work well together Lawrence—“

“Everyone else is taken or busy with other tasks. Meaning that only you two are free,” Lawrence cuts you off without a hint of sympathy, “so either you do as you’re told or you can leave Y/N. As simple as that.”

In the end you have no choice but to abide by his rules, strapping up your weapons and defenses before Gally calls out your name. You turn just in time to catch the water bottle he sends your way, yelping in the process.

“You’re looking a little distraught, shank-face,” he smirks at you from where he stands loading up the provisions, “scared of what you’ll find out there? If you ain’t good enough, just don’t come and waste people’s time.”

“Nobody asked for your opinion, ugly brows.”

“I’m just worried you might slow me down. I’m not a goddamn babysitter.”

“I didn’t ask for one, now will you shut up and stop talking?”

“I’m surprised these two haven’t killed each other off yet,” murmurs one of Lawrence’s men.

“Killed or kissed you mean,” Jared lets out a chuckle.

These words are enough to cause the others to look at him with shocked faces, “what do you mean?”

“Isn’t it clear?” Jared motions towards the two currently bickering, “bet that by tomorrow night these two will get together.”

“I bet they last a week before they kiss.” Another says.

“Oh come on, I’m betting two weeks. Gally isn’t that type of guy.”

“What about me?” Gally’s voice causes them all to shut up, looking at him with guilty smiles and with shakes of their heads.

“Nothing to worry about Maze boy,” Jared flicks him off with a wave of his hand, “now off you go, both of you. And I expect some good news when you return.”

“Of any kind,” someone adds quietly, to which they all cackle.

You’ve toured the city a million times before in search of any kind of entrances that might lead to the inside, where all of Wicked laid. So it’s nothing out of your depth to follow Gally around as you survey the area and scout for more sources of information.

In all honesty, touring with Gally isn’t that much different from anyone else. On the contrary, Gally’s determined nature conjoined with his natural physical ability to excel just renders him an even more ideal battle partner. Not that you’ll ever tell him that. It will surely come bite you in the ass later when you least expect it.

You’re almost at the perimeter when you notice something off about one of the citizens. It’s a little girl, her face contorted in a grimace as she holds her hands in front of her tummy. For a moment, she sways in the middle of the crowd and you’re about to dismiss it, when another figure stalks in and takes a swipe at her with a stick.

The girl yelps as the stick hits her knees, crumbling to the floor like a sack of bones.

Before you know it, you’re sprinting towards her, anger flaring through your chest as your hands steady themselves on the gun. You barely hear Gally’s voice as you stumble in front of the kid just in time to point your weapon at the older man.

“What do you think you’re doing?” You hiss at him.

The man’s eyes widen. He takes a step back, “no no, get away from her, you don’t understand—“

“Understand what? That you were going to beat her to death?” You click your gun into place, “nice try old man, now tell me—“

“Get away from her!” He yells at you, “she’s not normal! She’s—“

And a growl erupts from behind you. You swivel around in panic, eyes going wide upon noticing for the first time the dark patch close to her eyes.

The Flare.

The girl twitches. A small sob falls from her mouth. Your heart jumps to your throat, stumbling back half a step as weird animalistic noises echo from her mouth.

And then, she pounces.

You yell out something— you’re not too sure what — and are about to knock her on the head as she throws herself at you—

A bullet explodes on the right side of her brain and she falls to the ground like a puppet.

You stare at her for a minute. One more.

Your gaze slowly trails up to see familiar booted feet.

“What were you even thinking?”

Gally’s voice is usually deep. But this time, even you can’t stand up to the anger simmering in his voice. It’s dark and holds some kind of laced savagery that makes your toes curl in apprehension.

He takes your silence as guilt before grabbing onto your arm and roughly pulling you out of the crowd. He doesn’t stop and for once you don’t fight him, still not over the shock of seeing that poor girl’s face, the crazed look in her eyes. You’re so deep in your thoughts that you don’t realize you’re at your truck until Gally practically throws you against its side.

Your back digs into the metal and you grunt at the impact, the ache stinging your spine. But before you can do anything else, huge palms come to a rest on either side of your head.

Gally leans into you, so close that you can feel the heat radiate off him in waves.

“What the fuck was that about?” He growls, voice dropping even lower.

Somehow, it causes a shiver to run up your spine. Not one of fear, something else. Something that makes your stomach squeeze into knots.

“I—“ for once, you don’t seem to have any words. Instead your head turns away from Gally’s eyes as you bite down onto your lower lip, “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry? You’re sorry?” He scoffs, laughs to himself before his gaze hardens once more, “sorry for what Y/N? For almost getting yourself killed? Are you insane?! She could’ve literally infected you and you—“

“I didn’t know she was infected.” You tried to protest.

That seems to aggravate him even more, “You didn’t even bother to check!” His nostrils flare.

“Well I said I’m sorry!”

“Sorry’s not going to cut it if you turn into one of those Cranks you stupid slinthead! You need to be more responsible! I literally turn away for one minute and you’re—“

“Oh stop exaggerating Gally. I was trying to protect her—“

“Yeah and look how that ended!”

You snap, “why are you so pissed? It was an accident and I already said sorry!”

“It’s not just that Y/N!” He yells with such emotion that his face flushes red, “What if I wasn’t there? What would you have done then?!”

“Why the fuck do you care? You wanted me gone—“

Your words cut off in mid-conversation when his large hands suddenly cup your face before pulling you in to crash his lips against yours.

Your eyes widen, brain freezing, as butterflies erupt through your stomach.

Wow.

Is this what a kiss is?

And this is Gally, kissing you like he means it.

It's almost like time has stopped.

Heart pounding, your body slowly melts against his. You’re in a trance-like state, watching yourself crumble under his fingertips that he places right under your jaw, his other hand sliding down to your hip to pin you in place.

The kiss is surprisingly gentle yet firm. His mouth moves slowly, hesitantly, almost like he fears breaking you. And yet, when you respond with a soft movement of your own, the rumble of his chest has your stomach squeezing with adrenaline.

You’re not too sure what’s happening. Here you are, with the world’s biggest dick, kissing him like he’s your lover when all you’ve ever wanted was to kick him in the face for being a class A asshole.

But it’s weird because this, however, feels so right. Like you’re meant to be locking lips, like he doesn’t want anyone else in his arms but you. And when he cages you in his hold with even more intensity it makes you gasp, causing him to slip his tongue into your mouth with an ease that has you parting like melted butter.

Slowly, your hands trail up to his chest, grabbing hold of his dark tunic and tugging slightly as his teeth suckle onto your bottom lip. A noise echoes from the back of your throat and he growls in response, pressing you even harder so that your head tilts back against the truck’s surface.

You need air at some point and so break away from him with a small gasp, chest heaving.

Gally doesn’t hesitate. He dives down to press a kiss to the side of your jaw, down your neck, imprinting his mouth over your skin over and over again in a way that has your body shuddering with delight. Big hand sliding down to the back of your neck to pull you even closer into him, the young man’s lips find a soft spot at your pulse point, causing a whine to fall from your lips at his action.

His chest rumbles in satisfaction and before you know it he’s back to kissing you. This time it’s more heated; mouths clashing and teeth clicking and tongues battling.

And then, the reality of the situation hits you straight in the face.

You freeze. What in the shucking world are you even doing?

You’re making out with Gally, right beside your truck. In broad daylight.

The thought alone makes your hands push him away and your lips disconnect with a small ‘pop’ sound.

You’re gasping for breath at this point, eyes wide as they flutter up to lock onto his own and you’re surprised at what you find there.

There’s some sort of softness, genuine care and something more, something darker that you can’t really put your finger on.

It makes you want him.

You want him.

Shuck’s sake.

“Y/N—“ Gally starts but you’re already moving out of his hold, slipping away from his warmth and suddenly it feels a little too cold.

You shake your head at him, decide it’s best to keep your eyes away as you open the door to the passenger seat, “let’s go. We have a mission to finish.”

You don’t want to talk about it.

————

It’s been days.

Days since the incident.

Days since you’ve been trying to get Gally out of your head.

You don’t understand why he’s having such an effect on you. Theoretically speaking, you should’ve bashed his head in and turned him over to Lawrence for sexual assault.

But you haven’t, and he’s also probably questioning why.

As a result, you’ve done everything in your power to avoid him. You wake up thirty minutes earlier to eat your breakfast so that you don’t have to bump into him at the table, you take the first errands that come to you — the boring ones like refilling tanks and getting the food supplies and guarding their premises. All that so that you don’t have to deal with Gally’s bullying.

Well, not that you’ve heard from him much either.

“What happened between you two?” Jared asks one evening as you help him move the supplies fresh from the last raid from the Last City.

“What?” You stare at him blankly, “what are you talking about?”

“You and Gally. You had a fight or something?”

“When are we not?” You snort, though you can’t deny the flush creeping up your neck as the memory of Gally’s body against yours resurfaces.

“Well I know you fight, but you’ve been ignoring each other.”

“And? Why is that a concern? Shouldn’t you be glad there’s less noise?”

“You’ve got a point I suppose.”

You don’t tell him it’s because you’re nervous of all the things that keep flashing through your head. You don’t tell him about how you keep on thinking of Gally’s mouth on yours, the lingering taste of him like a ghost along your lips. You don’t have to and you don’t want to, because you know that it’s going to entertain an idea far too surreal and ridiculous for you to think about.

It isn’t until a few days after your little mishap that Gally finds you in the storage room. You’ve woken up early to help the newest recruit unpack the food supplies just loaded into the main building dock, only to find out that he had this massive crush on you.

So you’ve been trying to bat him off all morning despite his most desperate attempts.

“Just give me a chance Y/N,” he says as he takes a box from your hands with a wink, “I promise I won’t make you regret it.”

You snort, “no thanks,” and turn back to keep unloading.

But he makes a grab for your hand. You yelp, pulling it out of his grasp, “what do you think you’re doing—“

“You think you’re so tough huh?” He makes another grab for your forearm this time and cages you into his grip. You try to wriggle out to no avail, his fingers squeezing so hard that you let out a cry of pain, “ow—“let me go, asshole.”

“Not until you agree.”

Your glare deepens, “I said no.”

He pulls you closer, stinky breath washing over your face and making you want to barf, “did I tell you how sexy you are when you try to act all tough and shit? I mean that’s literally—“

“Get your hands off her.”

He freezes. You do too. You recognize that voice. You could've recognized that anywhere. Your head tilts over.

Gally.

Oh.

Eyes widening at the sight, you quickly pull your arm away when the newbie drops it in shock.

“Move away,” Gally’s voice drops an octave and causes a string of butterflies to erupt through your chest, “now.”

The newbie frowns, “Who’re you to boss me around?”

“I said: Now.”

And maybe it’s the fact that Gally seems to straighten when he says it so it looks like he’s towering over the other boy, but the latter mutters a curse word under his breath and finally relents, throwing you a scowl in the process as he ducks out of the storage room.

You can’t help but lock eyes with your savior, though quickly averting your eyes in embarrassment as you resume stacking boxes after boxes. You hope that he’s just going to turn around and act ignorant, just like these past few days.

“Y/N.”

You don’t answer, resolutely trying your best to act busy.

“Y/N.”

Maybe it’s the way he says your name that makes you turn impulsively. Your eyes flit to his face, then look back down to his chest. A safer bet, “what?”

He takes a step closer, and another, and another. You swallow thickly, feeling your throat clog up with emotion as you stumble back against the boxes until no escape seems available.

Why is it that you’re always getting trapped by him?

“W—What is it?” You stammer out in hopes he can’t hear how wild your heart is beating, "What do you want?"

He lets out a soft sigh and seems to drop his shoulders in defeat, opening up his palms in a sign of defeat, "I just--I think we need to talk."

"There's nothing to talk about."

"Y/N--"

"No Gally," you whip around then with eyes narrowed into slits and your fists curled beside you, "if this is about what happened in the Last City, I don't want to talk about it. It was a stupid shucking mistake and--"

"Stop using Glader slang," he interrupts like a smart-ass and you all but growl at him in irritation, "it doesn't suit you."

"Oh shut up already," you whip around and decide that it's useless to try and have a civil conversation. You'd rather focus your energy on finishing off your task.

But seems that he's determined to bug you, for you feel the warmth of his hand imprint itself on your forearm before he's tugging you. Not too harshly, gently enough that you could've stopped if you wanted to.

You let yourself turn around, cursing inwardly at how the closeness between your two bodies is rendering you a little breathless, a little weak in the knees. He's so close that you have to tilt your head up to look at him, and what you see in his gaze makes your heart skitter.

"It wasn't," he murmurs, "a mistake."

"It was a mistake," you shoot back straightaway, "we can just forget about it--"

"I don't want to. I--" he clears his throat, looks away for a second. And when his eyes find yours once again you feel your breath catch in your throat because he's looking at you in a certain way. That way. With the same kind of tenderness that makes you want to wrap your arms around him and bury your face into his chest and smell the earthly, Gally scent that had wrapped around you back when you'd kissed--

No.

You almost smack yourself, horrified. What in the world are you thinking?!

"I like you, Y/N." Gally’s voice jerks you back to reality, “I like you a shuck lot and—“

“Don’t,” you press a finger to his lips as you try desperately to put some distance between, shaking your head in horror, “no no, you don’t like me. You like me ‘cause I’m the only girl around here and it’s just your hormones talking—“

He shakes you off, “what are you on about?” He frowns before grabbing both your hands to cage them in his grip, “I know what I feel Y/N. Don’t tell me otherwise—“

“Gally please,” you scramble for coherent thought but logic is slipping away by the second. Even more so when he’s tugging you gently to him, even more when his face is a picture of softness and affection, “we hate each other’s guts—“

“I never said that.” He pauses to read your expression, fear suddenly flickering in his expression, “do you hate me?”

“I—“ the words get tangled in your mouth. You want to tell him you hate him, loathe him with all your heart and that you just want him gone and that you hates his kiss.

But you can’t.

Because it’s a lie, the truth is that you think your heart beats for him. You’re not sure since when, but that kiss had confirmed it surely enough: you like Gally more than you think you do. And that thought is terrifying.

You’re so close to him that if you let your hands drop they’ll brush against his chest, so close that you can feel his warm breath fanning across your skin and the heat of his jody permeating to yours.

Ducking your head in embarrassment, you bite down onto your lower lip.

“Answer my question, Y/N.”

You swallow thickly, “I—I don’t know.”

Gally looks down at you still, not giving you the easy way out you would’ve preferred and you find yourself crumbling under his stare.

“No,” you whisper, “I don’t hate you.”

He shifts a little closer still, eyes flitting down to your lips in a silent question.

Your breath catches. Your mouth parts. His scent wraps around you like a soft cocoon.

And then you’re lifting yourself up to kiss him.

He makes a noise of surprise at the back of his throat and you grin to yourself, loving that you caught him off guard. But that doesn’t last, for his big hands quickly drop yours to wrap around your waist before pulling your body to his and kissing you like he hasn’t seen you in ages, like he’s missed you, like he wants to do this forever.

Gally, you soon realize, kisses with his entire intention, not leaving one part of your mouth untouched and adamant on making you go pliant in his hold. You allow yourself to back up as he prods you, until your back hits one of the storage boxes hazardly stacked one atop the other, and Gally doesn't hesitate to press his chest against yours as a soft moan echoes from the back of his throat.

As his lips curve against yours in the most intimate of manners, your hands seem to take on a life of their own as they travel up his chest, caress the broadness of his shoulders, before wrapping around the back of his neck and teasing the soft baby hairs found there. You feel him grinning into your mouth and soon enough you're grinning too, foreheads pressed together as you catch your breath.

"Not bad at all," Gally murmurs, stealing a kiss from you and causing your face to flush deep red, "for someone who can't load a gun properly."

"I can too load my gun properly," you pinch him playfully and he responds with laughter.

That's when you hear your mentor's voice booming with surprise from the front entrance of the storage room:

"Well look what we have here! I told you guys they wouldn't last a week!"

[fannyspammy]

Third Row Back

Minho x Reader

Summary: Minho & y/n get freaky during a celebration (+ a little Newt x y/n tease)

Warnings: PWP, public sex, fingering, unprotected sex, daddy kink (cuz y’all know Minho would have one), exhibitionism/voyeurism

A/N: writing for minho made me miss my fav sassy glader so here is smt spicy with him. also y/n is a freak. that is it.

[not my gif]

It was dark apart from the warm glow of the bonfire, and even that illuminated only so much. By the third row of logs, you’d barely be visible— those sitting in the front row would get all the light. Which was perfect for what Minho had planned for y/n.

Y/n sat comfortably between his legs in that convenient third row, his arms wrapped tightly around her. His fingers played with the hem of her short skirt, one she’d made herself for occasions such as this.

Minho whispered against her neck, “I love this skirt on you. You should wear it more.”

Y/n laughed. “You want me to wear this around the Glade while you’re off running around the maze all day?”

“Okay, maybe not.” He planted a kiss on her neck. “You cold, babe?” Minho asked in her ear.

Before even hearing y/n’s response he reached into a bag he’d placed behind him, pulling out a large blanket. The blanket could easily fit three under it, so it wrapped around them no problem, a good portion of it dragging onto the ground.

The first round of Gally’s brew came around, and soon all the other Gladers were drunk. Soon everyone was inebriated, & wrestling matches began in the firelight. Minho saw his opportunity.

He placed wet, open kisses on y/n’s neck, and she threw her head back to give more access. Sucking on her sweet spot, he took both breasts into his hands and massaged them gently, playing with her nipples every so often.

Y/n bit her lip to stifle her moans. “Minho, everyone is around.”

“Don’t worry babe, it’s so dark you can barely see us back here, everyone is drunk & focused on what’s happening around the fire, & you’re fully covered by the blanket.” He bit down on her skin and sucked hard.

“You thought this through, didn’t you?”

“Of course,” he smirked against the bruise that was forming where he sucked her.

Minho slid his hands down her abdomen to her core. With one hand he parted her folds to give more access to her clit, and with the other he began to stroke slowly, softly touching the sensitive bundle of nerves.

Y/n’s breath hitched at the sensation, the feel of his touch amidst the party almost overwhelming her senses.

The boy slowly dragged his finger lower, dipping slightly into her entrance. Y/n felt his cock harden against her lower back as he felt how wet she already was for him.

“Turn to me,” he commanded.

Y/n obeyed, turning her head to meet his. He enveloped her in a passionate kiss, tongues wrestling for dominance. His fingers continued their work on her clit, rubbing firmly, and y/n moaned into the kiss, doing her best to keep her volume at a minimum.

There was a lot of noise around them, with all the shouts & hollers & conversations going on, so she wouldn’t have to be fully silent.

As Minho quickened the pace y/n instinctively opened her legs, hooking them behind his calves. As his access widened, Minho brought his other hand to her soaking entrance, sliding two fingers in with little resistance. Y/n arched her back as he curled his fingers inside her, hitting her g-spot.

“Mm, Minho,” she whispered, calling his name as loudly as she could without drawing attention.

Pumping in and out of her, y/n rolled her hips lightly against his hands, creating as much friction as she could with little movement.

Y/n laid her head back against his shoulder, panting through the pleasure. She watched the boys dancing by the fire, and the groups having conversations. The thought of any of them catching the graphic scene playing in the shadows at any moment excited her, and she rolled her hips harder.

Panting through light moans, she cried his name again. “Mm, Minho.. oh- yes, yes baby, yes.”

“You’re so fucking hot babe.” Minho added a third finger and rubbed her clit harder. From there it only took about five minutes before y/n came undone. She continued her faint moans as he pleasured her through her high, the blanket beginning to slide down her shoulders.

When she finished she pulled the blanket back up with a satisfied sigh. Minho brought his fingers to his lips and sucked the juice off of them, murmuring about how he loved her taste.

Then, the crowd stood up and gathered tighter around the fire, entranced by an intense wrestling match between the latest greenie & one of the other boys. Y/n saw an opportunity.

She quickly turned herself around so she was straddling Minho, keeping the blanket covering as much as she could. As she undid the button of his pants the boy raised his eyebrows. “What are you doing babe?”

“It’s your turn,” she said simply, freeing his hard cock from his underwear. “They’re all distracted right now. But if they catch us… then they can watch.” She smirked seductively, lowering herself onto his length.

Minho groaned in pleasure as he bottomed out, and y/n wasted no time. She rode him steadily, moaning louder this time, matching the volume of the crowd. Quickening her pace, Minho grabbed her ass to support her, helping her deepen her thrusts.

“Ooh, yes baby, just like that. You ride daddy’s dick so well,” he whispered into her ear, sticking his tongue in afterwards and exploring.

“Ooh M-Minho.. oh, yes.. I love how you feel inside me,” she increased her speed again, squeezing her walls against his length. “Oh, daddy, you feel so good! Mm, I love taking your big, fat cock in my tight pussy.”

Minho began to thrust his hips into her harder, keeping one hand on her lower back and the other on the log to steady himself. He panted his words.

“Yeah? You like that? You like taking daddy’s cock like a good girl?”

The blanket was at their waists now, barely covering where their bodies became one.

“Yes! Oh, yes, daddy, yes! Yes! Yes!”

Y/n came for the second time, and Minho followed shortly after. They rode each other through their highs, calling each other’s names as they did, not even caring who heard them.

She slowly pulled herself off of Minho, a mixture of their juices spilling out of her as she turned around to sit with her back against his chest again.

They scanned the scene. The wrestling match was still going, seemingly at its own climax, and the Gladers cheered as the greenie gained dominance.

So no one saw, y/n thought to herself. She hated to admit it, but a part of her wished someone had.

Then, the fire roared stronger for just a second, and in the flash of light, a couple dozen feet away, in the third row of sitting logs, y/n saw him.

Newt sat alone, eyes closed with head thrown back, vigorously pumping his hard length, his lips parted as he moaned and panted in solitude. She couldn’t him, but she could read her name on his lips.

Y/n.

As he levelled his head his eyes opened & met hers.

She smirked at him knowingly, and then turned to kiss Minho, making sure Newt could see how her tongue slipped into his mouth. Dropping the blanket, y/n palmed Minho through his pants. Y/n continued kissing him with one eye open, only pulling away when she saw Newt finish.

[yourloverfromthepast]

Y/N: I don't trust Teresa.

Minho: Why? She seems fine to me

Y/N: Something's off about her behavior...

Newt: You're right, I have a bad feeling about her

Thomas: What? No! Newt! What the fuck is wrong with you guys? *Scoffs* I- ugh, admit it y/n, you're just jealous. I- I can't believe this! Wow!

*Teresa betrays the entire team*

Y/N: *Click their tongue and inhale sharply* SOOOOOOO, THOMAS-

Thomas: Don't. Just- don't. Please.

[petrichor-idyllic]

MINHO

MASTERLIST

CONTENT WARNINGS IN GREEN

○ FLUFF | □ SPICE | ● ANGST | ■ SMUT |• HEADCANONS

◇ FEM! READER | ☆ GN! READER | 《》 MASC! READER

□ LONGING FROM AFAR ◇

↳ Minho has always been cocky and self-assured. That is until a girl arrives in the Glade. A girl he's had some interesting dreams about.

Contains suggestive content and spice.

• SOME HEADCANONS ◇

↳ Just some headcanons about our favourite Runner.

Contains suggestive content and spice.

□ FIRECRACKER ◇

↳ Minho finally agrees to teach you how to fight after weeks of pestering him. Though, things take an unexpected turn.

Contains suggestive content and spice.

○ SAFE PLACE ◇

↳ After you narrowly escape the vicious actions of another Glader who couldn't take no for an answer, you find refuge in Minho's hut - and his arms.

Contains references to sexual assault but there's nothing explicit.

○ UNDER THE INFLUENCE ◇

↳ After the Greenie Day celebrations leave you a little bit intoxicated, Minho takes care of you and keeps you safe.

○ HIDE AND SEEK ◇

↳ You're training to be a Runner and, as the Keeper, Minho is made to look after you. Though, things take a dramatic turn as Minho is forced to save your life.

LET ME MAKE YOU FEEL BETTER ◇ ➤

□ PART 1 | ■ PART 2

↳ Somehow, you end up giving your best friend a massage. Things go about as well as expected.

Basically porn with plot. 18+

□ INAPPROPRIATE WORKPLACE BEHAVIOUR ◇

↳ You miss out on the Bonfire to stay to help Minho with the Maps. Unfortunately, he's a little distracted.

Contains suggestive content and spice.

□ AFTER THE CALM ◇

↳ Joining the group from the scorch, the Gladers take a blow after losing Newt to the Crank Palace. So, you help cheer Minho up.

Book-based fic. Contains suggestive content and spice.

■ REWARD AFTER A HARD DAY'S WORK ◇

↳ You try to spend as much time with your boyfriend as you can. So, when he finishes his long day of running the Maze, you decide to join him in the shower.

More porn with very little plot. 18+

□ BEYOND THE OTHER SIDE ◇

↳ Despite your feelings for one another, you and Minho have decided it's best to stay friends. But, after you nearly lose him to the clutches of the Maze, and he says some choice words to Gally - you decide enough is enough.

Book based fic. Some suggestive themes.

● ALL YOU HAVE ◇

↳ Minho has always had you by his side. He doesn't know how he'd cope without you. Well, now he might have to learn how.

Bro, you die. Rip.

WARMTH IN COLD PLACES ◇ ➤

○ PART 1 | □ PART 2

↳ You are an undercover agent for The Right Arm working behind enemy lines in WCKD's headquarters. Your simple intel gig ends up being the least of your problems as you're suddenly put on the front lines of a rescue mission. It doesn't help that the boy you're pretending to keep prisoner is pretty cute.

□ BEHAVE ◇

↳ You're obsessed with your boyfriend. It's just so hard to keep your hands off of him - even when he's working.

Contains suggestive content and spice.

□ MIRAGE OF THE PAST ◇

↳ Despite never seeing Minho before, you swear you recognise him. That's why you're always staring. Well, and the man is fine. Now in your place of refuge, the Safe Haven provides you with a home, and a new sense of freedom. A bit of flirting can't hurt, right?

Contains suggestive content and spice.

○ IT TAKES TIME  ◇

↳ You were immediately attracted to Minho when you met him in the Scorch. Now, after six months and many losses, you're reunited.

○ STAY CLOSE 《》

↳ Your dream of becoming a Runner is crushed time and time again. But that doesn't stop you from running out into the Maze to help Minho and Alby. Though, that doesn't mean you're the only one willing to risk your life to protect those you care about.

□ FRIENDLY COMPETITION ◇

↳ A friendly game of capture the flag turns heated thanks to yours and Minho's competitive spirit.

Contains suggestive content and spice.

○ SOFT AT HEART ◇

↳ Soft, sweet and caring; you're the mother of the Glade.

■ FIRST TIME FOR EVERYTHING ◇

↳ Your's and Minho's first time.

Some fluffy smut. 18+.

○ BLIND EYE ◇

↳ Minho has a crush on you. You're oblivious. He's losing his mind.

○ DECEPTION IN LIBERATION ◇

↳ You're from Group B. Meeting someone in the middle of a prison break is one hell of an introduction.

□ HIGH SCHOOL NOT-SO-SWEET-HEARTS ◇

↳ High school AU. Minho is popular and sporty. You're quiet and smart. It's a stereotypical high-school romance, except Minho is the one tripping over himself for you. And, well, you don't believe him.

Contains suggestive content and spice. Minho won't accept your rejection.

○ HOW TO WINGMAN (POORLY) ☆

↳ Everyone in the Glade is sick of watching you and Minho dance around your feelings for each other. So, they decide to do something about it. Well, they attempt to, at least.

○ DIE FOR YOU ☆

↳ Song fic based off of "Die for You" by The Weekend.

ON YOUR OWN ◇ ➤

○ PART 1 | ○ PART 2 | ○ PART 3

↳ You were put in a Maze all on your own, with nothing but your dog. The isolation is one thing, but what'll happen when you finally escape?

○ SOLIDARITY ◇

↳ Minho is used to being the tough guy; but he doesn't know how to react when he meets someone tougher than him.

○ LIFE BEFORE DROWNING ◇

↳ You're from one of the many alternative Mazes - and yours happened to be full of water. Though, you only realise how weird your Maze was when you reach the Safe Haven, and meet a certain Runner, who feels weirdly familiar.

○ SAVIOR COMPLEX ◇

↳ You're a new Runner, and a disobedient one. So, when you get stung, Minho is left to play saviour. And doctor. Though, as he looks after you, he starts to think you might not be so bad.

○ IN ADVANCE OF GREIF ◇

↳ Getting bitten by a crank is never fun. But, you're from a Maze, so, you'll be fine... right?

□ EXPOSURE ◇

↳ In an attempt to comfort Chuck, you confess an embarrassing secret about something you did back when you were crushing on Minho and before you started dating. Unfortunately, your boyfriend isn't as heavy of a sleeper as you originally thought.

Contains mild suggestive content and spice.

□ SPARKS ◇

↳ Now in the Safe Haven, the sexual tension between you and Minho has turned into a twisted game of restraint. Though, it's hard not to break when you finally catch a glimpse of Minho's lightning scars.

Contains suggestive themes and spice.

□ BEST FEATURE ☆

↳ You can't stop staring at Minho's arms.

Contains suggestive content and spice.

• INDOCTRINATION ☆

↳ The first time you ever met Minho in the WICKED facility, and the corrupt childhood you briefly spent together before things take a wrong turn.

[bamboozledbird]

HOWLING: TST Rewrite // Prev. / Chapter 2 / Next

Characters: Thomas, fem!reader, Newt, Teresa Agnes (bg), Minho (bg), Aris (bg) Pairing(s): Thomas x Reader (the slowest of burns as is my brand) Word Count: 3.4k Tags: Mix of book and movie canon, newt!sister!reader Warnings: Canon typical violence and gore, sad times are ahead my friends

A/N: V fun new game, drink every time you see a trope. Also thank you for the nice comments and messages tbh inspired me to keep going because I don't see a lot of Thomas content out there in the Tumblr great beyond. Taglist: @m30wk1ttycat, @mxltifxnd0m

You stay far away from Newt now that you know. It feels wrong, unnatural. You can’t eat or sleep—constantly fighting every single one of your instincts makes you feel sick, like your organs are rejecting your body in protest—but it’s necessary. It’s only a matter of time before he disappears, or you disappear, or cranks break through the compound walls and drag you all to an early grave. 

You can’t remember losing Newt the first time; you don’t want to ever have to.

Newt notices. He watches you from afar with a furious little divot in his brow and his lip between his teeth, but he doesn’t press. He’s busy, after all. You don’t know what Newt’s friends are planning, but you can see the itching under Thomas’s skin. The constant tapping, the darting eyes. He never rests in one place for long. It’s conspicuous amongst the complacent. Not many people see this place for what it truly is, but Thomas does. 

So do you. 

As naïve as you find them, you can’t blame the others. Hope is an addictive thing. After so many years of nothing, a glimpse of happiness is so incredibly tempting. Who’s to say what’s better anyway: waiting to die in numb anticipation or being blissfully unaware. It all ends the same.

Thomas doesn’t fit into either category. It seems to be a trend for him, you’re gathering, along with his friends following his lead. You’re both impressed and irritated by the way people get caught up in his current. It’s like they can’t fight it, like he’s a black hole of a person. The more you watch him, however, the more you realize that isn’t quite right. Thomas doesn’t steal light; he burns with it. The realization leaves a bittersweet film on your tongue, and you do your best not to look at him anymore.

You force yourself to be content this way: alone, numb, head buried in your pillow and denial. You ignore them all and suffocate on the cold, hard truth: You don’t know your own brother, and you never will—and then he spills out of a vent and into your room. 

The vent creaks under Newt’s weight. It’s a small sound, but it’s so loud in the silence of night. You reach for your fork before you recognize his mop of downy hair and wide eyes.

“Christ, Newt,” the strength of your relief sends you reeling back onto your cot, “thought you were a crank.”

“In the air shaft?” You see the flash of Newt’s grin, white teeth gleaming in the dark. You can also see the tension creased in corners of his mouth.

You push yourself onto your elbow and hum, “Seems like exactly the kind of place a crank would lurk.”

He snorts, “Fair enough.”

Your eyes finally adjust to the dark, and you can see Thomas now. Aris pokes his head out of the vent behind him. You’re struck dumb for a moment. The past and the present clashing together in the dark of your temporary prison makes your head hurt.

You swing your legs over the side of your bed, scrubbing your knuckles over your eyelids. “Aris?”

Aris gives you a little smile. It’s more emotion than you’ve seen from him since you arrived at the facility.

Newt wraps his spindly fingers around your ankle and tugs your foot into a sturdy boot. “Com'n, bug, we’re getting out of here.” 

You’re frozen as he ties the laces into neat bows with shaking hands. The endearment wrenches you into another world, dragging you heart-first into a muddled memory with a white-knuckled grip. Your cracked lips part, and you can only think of one word at a time, “Out?”

“Yeah, as in not in here,” Thomas finally speaks from the shadows. He’s on edge, like always, but tonight you can almost see the feverish energy radiating through his skin. He crouches down and nods towards the vent, “Let’s go.”

“Into the Scorch?” You scoff and shake your head, “You’re insane.”

Newt grins: a little frantic, a lot familiar. He holds his hand out for you to take and says, “Only slightly.” 

You stare at his palm for a long moment, and then a loud groan rattles through your chest. You wrap your fingers around Newt’s and glower at him, “When we all end up dying a horrific death, I’ll never let you live it down.”

Newt pulls you to your feet and laughs. You aren’t sure if he’s more amused by the scrunch of your nose or Thomas’s surly huff. You’d like to think it’s the latter. “Try to think positively,” Newt chirps. He’s quieter than normal, so that the sound doesn’t echo off the vent’s aluminum walls, and you finally realize that this is real. You’re on a covert mission to escape WCKD and venture into the unknown—and Newt wants you to think positively. 

You scoff. The Scorch. A barren desert. Crawling with cranks. What a positive venue to vacation in. Your shoulder twitches with a piddling shrug, “At least we’ll probably die quickly.”

The boy with spiky hair—free of blood this time—snickers behind you, “That’s the spirit.”

You grin and then immediately scowl when Thomas shushes everyone. No one disobeys him, not even you, and that just makes you scowl harder. Your mouth strains with the effort, but you keep it closed and imagine all the things you could say to make Thomas hit his head against the low ceiling.

Newt guides you through the tight corridor, taking great effort to keep your head and injured thumb away from the sharp corners and steely walls. It’s all a bit of a blur from there.

The Maze, as horrific as it was, at least prepared you for running away from the guards and dodging the hail of taser shells sparking over your head. The shots are blinding, bright lightning-flashes that shatter glass and heat your skin with frenzied static. You almost stop, lost in the glare sticking to your eyelids, but Newt doesn’t let you.

Newt drags you behind him and doesn’t let go of your hand, not even when the guards close in on your ragtag group of panicked children. Newt pulls you behind him, firm against his back, and you can’t see anything over his lofty frame. He squeezes your hand, and it occurs to you with startling clarity that he would take a bullet for you. The thought sits heavily in your stomach like a rotten peach pit; you choke on it while you wait for the end.

When the final door won’t open, you think that you’re going to die before you even see the Scorch, but Thomas surprises you again. 

He gets you out. All of you. Alive.

For how long, you aren’t sure. 

Outside the compound, the world is big—empty of anything good and filled with imminent peril. The wind is fittingly sinister. It howls like a caged dog that’s been kicked one too many times, but the chilling echoes can’t drown out the shrieking in the distance. The tortured cries frost your blood and nip at your skin. They’re coming from the lost souls just beyond the dunes, and you know that they’re out there somewhere, prowling in the shadows of an unwelcoming indigo night. Barely human. Begging for death. 

It’s a place you aren’t supposed to be, a night that banishes you—but you have no choice but to run into the thick of it. 

Thomas is fast—faster than you, you note with a bitter bite—even on sand. Everyone struggles to keep up with him, especially Newt. He has a limp. How could you forget that he has a limp? Guilt burns your throat as badly as the sand in your eyes; you can’t shake it, no matter how hard you try. 

The wind kicks up the further you venture into the Scorch. The gusts turn almost silver with the grains caught in their path. Lightning strikes the ground, too close for comfort, and the dusty haze lights with electricity. The glow looks toxic, like a suffocating smog—a cancerous ray trying to eat away at your flesh. It's a strange thing to be grateful for, but the shroud of sand gives you just enough time for Newt’s hand to slip back into yours. 

A collapsing building is another strange thing to be grateful for, but the decomposing shopping center hides you from the searchlights and the storm outside. As you look around at the crumbling walls and shattered windows, you wonder what’s worse: WCKD’s soldiers or a horde of cranks. 

For a moment, the only sound in the remnants of a world long-gone is heavy breathing. There are a few coughs here and there, lungs trying to expel all the inhaled sand, and then silence. Thomas barely gives the group a moment to catch their breath, and then he’s urging everyone forward. Panicked. Breathless. This time, you think it’s justified. 

The girl they arrived with stops Thomas, demanding an explanation that you probably should’ve wondered about before now. It was so simple for you at the time. Newt held out his hand, and you took it. You’d follow him anywhere, you realize, just to make sure he was okay. 

You aren’t really surprised by Thomas’s revelation or his complete and utter lack of a plan. Maybe you should be, but stringing kids up and bleeding them dry seems exactly like the kind of thing WCKD would do in the pursuit of a cure that doesn’t exist. At least, you finally know where all those kids disappeared to, even though the knowledge doesn’t actually provide you any relief. 

“C’mon, let’s find you some warmer clothes,” Newt’s voice is soft so that he doesn’t startle you, but you jump anyway, “you’re more goose-pimple than girl.” 

Your mouth dries as you look at him, and all you can see is a bullet ripping through his chest, frying his bleeding heart with 3,000 volts of lethal electricity—all because someone aimed a gun in your direction.

“I can look by myself. We should split up…cover more ground.” You pull your hand out of his and step back, stumbling over a rotted plank of wood. Large hands wrap around your waist, righting you before you can fall to the floor and break another bone. 

Newt squints at you and eventually lets out a little sigh, “At least take Tommy with you. What good would you be with two bum hands.” 

You tip your chin up and see the sharp line of Thomas’s jaw. He doesn’t look down at you. If you had to hedge your bets, you’d say he’s glaring at Newt. You scowl at the ground and mutter, “I don’t think—”

Thomas interrupts you, “Newt’s right. No one should go anywhere alone.” He lets go of your sides, and the chill left in their absence tingles through your hips to your toes. Thomas doesn’t move from his spot, just slants his head to stare at you until your shoulders sink and you turn to follow him. 

Neither of you speak for a long time. You poke around empty rooms, examining the belongings of a society you’ve only heard stories about. It would be fascinating if you weren't aware that they belonged to the dead and the damned. Thomas wanders towards a string of broken lights, and you walk towards a pile of water jugs coated in a thick layer of grime and dirt. 

Thomas breaks the silence, “You can’t avoid him forever.”

You frown at an empty water bottle, “I'm not.” 

Infuriatingly, Thomas doesn’t look at you. He traces the wiring of a lamp with lithe fingers and says, “I understand why you want to.”

You stand up and brush the debris off of your sweatpants, rolling your eyes, “Oh, you do, do you?”

Thomas doesn’t move for a moment, and then he curls and uncurls his fingers, “You think it’s easier.” You watch the muscles in his back ripple as he rolls out an invisible ache in his shoulders. “It might be.”

Your lips purse. You’ve never liked being seen, especially by someone you don’t know. How dare he, you think, how dare he see past the scowls and stone. You kick at a small piece of rubble and fold your arms over your chest, “You’re a great comfort, Thomas.” 

“He would say it’s worth it if he knew.” Thomas turns around and mirrors your position. You aren’t sure if he’s mocking you, but when he crosses his arms you can see the shape of his biceps through his thin jacket. Your eyes jerk to his face when he starts talking again, “It might not even matter. He cares, not just about you—he cares about people. You can’t do anything to change that.”

“I…I can’t—”

A loud clanging in the background interrupts your reply. You hear one of the boys curse under their breaths, and Thomas’s gaze follows the sound. His eyes get stuck on a glimpse of the girl—Teresa, you remind yourself. You can just barely make out her dark curls through a broken window and a collapsing archway. 

“You care about her.” You chew on your lip and look at Thomas through your lashes, “Aren’t you scared?”

He looks down at you, and his throat bobs with his swallow. “All the time,” Thomas’s voice is a soft wind, a gentle breeze that almost gets lost in the empty corridors, “but scared is better than nothing.”

You wonder if he’s ever admitted that before—that even the great Saint Thomas is afraid sometimes. It feels like a secret. He whispers it into the small space between you like it's something he wants you to keep. For some reason, you intend to. 

“What about grief?” you whisper, because the room is calling for softness, and shiver. “Is grief better than nothing?” 

Thomas’s dark eyes trail over your face, “I haven’t decided yet.”

You both step back at the same time, too raw and too exposed to stay in the light for another second. 

You drift towards a large pile of clothes and brush your fingers over it. It’s a disorienting mix of scratchy denim and soft cotton, all riddled with dust and moth holes. You stop when you feel something fuzzy. Thankfully, it isn’t a dead animal—or even worse a live, rabid animal—it’s a stuffed bear. You clutch the teddy bear close to your chest and inhale deeply. You don’t know what you were expecting, maybe something sweet like baby powder or something musty like spilled juice, but it just smells like…nothing. Just dust and earth, not even a note of something human. 

Your heart gets stuck in your throat as you blink rapidly, fighting the ache in your eyes. Thomas rests his hand on your shoulder and bows his head a little to look at you. His face is more worried than questioning, and it softens your resentment. 

Swallowing hard, you fiddle with the teddy bear’s fraying bowtie, “It’s just…it’s so…little, and…they wouldn’t leave this behind.” Unless. You both know what comes after unless. 

Thomas gently pulls the bear from your hands and sets it on top of the pile; he does it all so gently it makes you ache. He takes your empty hand and nods towards the string lights, “Think you can help me find out where these wires lead to?”

You nod, grateful for a task, and wipe the dust and damning wetness from your face with the back of your good hand. Thomas pauses and glances at your other hand, frowning at the swelling, “They didn’t splint that?” 

The corner of your mouth tugs into a dry smirk, despite the constant ache of your shifting thumb, “Blood bags don’t need bones.”

You expect a smile, but Thomas’s mouth is an unmoving, severe line. He looks around the wreckage until he finds a dirty sneaker, ripped at the toes. Your brows furrow until he pulls the laces from it and holds out his hand, “Can I?”

You hesitate and then nod, bottom lip trapped between your teeth.

Thomas is heartbreakingly gentle. His lamblike touch startles you—you didn’t know until now that a warrior could be so delicate. It still hurts when he wraps the laces around your thumb and palm, but his tenderness distracts you from most of it. It’s the strangeness of it, you think. It's disorienting how confoundingly tender he is with the thumb that gave him his black eye. 

Thomas finishes the make-shift splint with a tight knot, and his attention shifts to your face, “Feel okay?” 

You nod again and gnaw on a sore spot in your cheek, “Why are you being so nice to me?” You look towards his bruised eye and then look down at your shoes, digging your toes into the concrete. “I kind of punched you in the face, in case you forgot.”

The corner of Thomas’s mouth twitches, “Didn’t forget. You’ve got a pretty unforgettable right hook.”

You stare at your shoe-lace splint and murmur, “I’m sorry.” You’re a little surprised when you realize just how much you mean it. 

“I had it coming.” Thomas shrugs and rubs his palms over his biceps, “I don’t feel like him…I don’t even know him—but that guy, the one who sent you into the Maze, he’s still me. We have the same face.”

Pausing, your voice becomes little more than a breath, “I knew him...I don’t know you.” You tentatively reach up and brush your thumb just below the bruises mottled under his eye. 

His eye has gotten worse since you last saw him. The welt is darker now, more plum skin than pink flesh, and it’s seeped around his entire eye socket, pooling in the shadows of his face. Frowning, you brush your fingertip lightly over his cheekbone; it doesn’t alleviate much of your guilt. It all feels a little like a red wine stain you can’t scrub clean. 

Thomas freezes for a moment, and your heart lurches into your ribs. He probably doesn’t get a lot of skin-to-skin contact, you realize, and you have to strangle the thought before it swells into something painful. Thomas slowly relaxes and turns his face into your hand slightly, “Do you want to?”

You lick your bottom lip, and a slow nod rolls up your neck to your head, “Yeah. Yeah, I think I do.” 

His smile is a timid little thing, and you want to keep it in your pocket for the dark days ahead. 

“You two need another minute? Perhaps a room.”

Your chin whips towards Newt, and your face burns. Thomas grumbles something decidedly unfriendly under his breath as he bumps Newt’s shoulder on his way towards the wall of dials and switches. 

You can feel Newt’s gaze on you, and you ignore the warmth creeping up your ears. “Shut up.”

Newt holds up his hands and grins, “I didn’t say anything!”

You’re just pouty enough to forget you’re supposed to be avoiding him, “You’re going to regret teasing me when I become a crank chew toy.”

“Please don’t croak just to spite me,” Newt throws his arm over your shoulder and squeezes you to his side, “I’d be awfully upset about it.”

You remember again. You can almost picture Newt’s face if you told him what you know, but it's the image of Newt's face watching you die that truly haunts you. You slip out from under his arm and mumble unconvincingly, “I’m gonna see if Thomas needs help.”

The smirk on Newt’s face tells you that he’s severely misinterpreted your intentions, but that’s okay. It’s better if he doesn’t know—even if the alternative is utterly humiliating. 

You crouch down next to Thomas, and he gives you a small smile that’s drenched in melancholy. There's some understanding in there too, but you try to ignore it.

“We’ll get out of this," Thomas says softly as he fiddles with the generator's cobwebbed dials. He catches your eye and doesn’t look away, “I’m going to get us all out of this, and then there won’t be anything to be afraid of. I promise.”

“Well,” your smile wobbles, “there’ll still be spiders.” 

Thomas smiles back at you, soft and little, “I’ll squish ‘em.”

Your lips twitch, “And snakes.”

Thomas’s nose wrinkles, “Can’t help you there.”

It surprises a laugh out of you, and Thomas smiles again. It’s the first time you’ve seen him truly smile, and the stretch of his mouth lights up his face, even in the gloom of darkness and desolation. You’re blinded by him for a moment. Somehow, he outshines the lights that wash the building in a golden haze when he flips the generator’s final switch.

No one is smiling, however, when the screaming starts.

[bri-the-fando-meister]

You're Safe With Me

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

Minho x reader female

Summary: Minho is out on a daily run to map the maze and he finds a girl trapped in the maze, on her own, with no sign of how she got there. Minho takes her back to the glade, and looks after her for her first night.

Word count: 1950

Read time : 13 minutes

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

Cool rock on your face, littered with debris. Nice and relaxing coolness, want to sleep. Dust filling air, hard to breathe, want to cough, dry throat, can't cough. Constant thump, distant and mesmerizing. Loud breathing, mine or someone else's?

"I want sleep, but where am I?" you croak, burning your throat as you speak. You opened your eyes.

Walls, tall and ancient , ivy covered walls, three walls surrounding you, one long corridor. Trapped, your chest felt tight and you found it hard to breathe.

You got up and walked toward the end of the corridor and saw two exits, you took a step back, hide.

The thumps got louder, closer and closer. And heavy breathing followed it. Someone was there. Who. Maybe it's a person.

I should check. But I am scared. I should check. My chest is tight again.

Dizzy, spinning walls, the dirt is flying. Must. Check. Now. Sit down before I fall. Yell out, now sitting, I am safe.

"Help me! Where am I?" you croaked half yelling.

"Who are you, where are you? How did you get in here? I am going to find you." a voice replied.

"O-ok"

"just stay where you are." it ordered

You were sitting too close to the entryway of your corridor. So that's when he saw you and you saw him, he kind of, almost, maybe ran into you.

He lowered his body to match your height and reached one of his arms to you and placed his hand on your shoulder, you flinched.

"Hey, it's okay. You're okay. You are safe now. Let's get you out of here and get you some food and water." the boy spoke gently "You are safe with me."

He hooked his arm over your shoulders and using his free hand, he held onto your hands.

"It's okay, you are safe, I promise"

"I get that I am safe but, but are there more of you? Like, more people?"

"Yeah, there are more people, they are all great people."

"Okay then, keep them away from me. By the way, what is your name?"

"My name? Minho. I am Minho"

"Okay Minho, I don't want to meet your friends."

You stopped walking, you understood he was taking you to them.

"I know that you are scared, but please, you need to keep moving. How about you, what is your name?"

"Y/n"

After an hour of walking and being dragged, you had arrived to a point where there was a break in the walls, leading out to a grassy square, filled with boys running about, working.

You hid around a corner, "No, I am not going." It didn't faze Minho as he walked into the grassy place and yelled.

"Alby! I am back!" a boy came running to Minho

"Newt, where's Alby? I need to show him something"

"Sorry Minho, he can't come, he is dealing with something important at the moment."

"Okay then Newt, if you say so. You are going to want to see this."

Minho began leading the boy assumably called Newt to your location, you told him you didn't want to meet anyone else.

"Minho, NO, I told you I didn't want to meet your stupid friends"

"Minho, who the shuck said that?"

"Ahhh, does Alby's important business have something to do with no greenie being in the box when it came up?" you poked your head around the corner to listen in.

"Yeah....."

"Well, Newt. I found our greenie in the middle of the maze." He gestured foy you to come to him.

"Come on darling, it's okay. This is Newt, he is really nice. Remember, I promised that you would be safe with me." Newt waved.

You began to slowly walk to the two boys, when you got there you grabbed Minho's arm and hugged it closely for comfort, he looked down at you and swilled a warm smile.

"Minho, I want you to come back with me, I feel safe in there, come back with me." you began to tug his arm, but his tall muscular build made it impossible to move him. After giving up you just walked back into the walls, Minho followed. Newt yelled to him. "Minho, you have like, 30 seconds to get out."

"Look, you need to get out of here, it isn't safe in here, you could die on your own."

"Minho, Get out now!" Newt yelled

"I am sorry, but you have to move"

"10-9" Minho picked you up and began to run "8-7-6-5" a few meters left to the grass "4-3" A giant gust of wind "2" you fell out of Minho's arms and landed on the grass "1" BANG!

"You still want to be in there now? You could have died for shuck sake. What were you thinking?" Newt was yelling at you. You began to cry, you didn't like yelling.

Yelling hurt, you couldn't quite connect the dots but, you remembered when you were yelled at, you would get hit.

You cowered, bracing for impact through heavy sobs. "Please don't hit me. Please don't. Don't hit me. Don't yell. What did I do wrong. I am sorry. Just hit me."

You cried so hard and found it hard to breathe, "Just hit me already, I am used to it. Sorry for being a burden."

When you didn't get hit you decided to see what was happening, so you turned your head. When you turned around you saw Minho having a go at Newt because of what he did. Newt pointed at you and spoke to Minho "You might want to talk to her, calm her down"

"Hey, hey. It's okay" he sat down on the grass with you, you were curled up in a loose ball so he wrapped himself around you. Giving you a warm hug.

"Do you want me to just be here, or do you want me to comfort you?"

"Both." you said, in broken sobs "I don't think that I like Newt."

"I get that you might not like him but, he was yelling out of concern, you could have died today, and he was very worried about you."

"I know, I, I just remember that whenever I got yelled at, I would be hit until I couldn't feel it anymore. Yelling hurts, I don't like it"

"He is sorry, I already talked to him, he didn't know that that triggered you."

"Okay, it was just a bit scary."

"I know, it's okay now. I promise, you are safe. Also, meet Alby, he is our leader."

"Hey there greenie, I see you have already made close friends with my best man."

"How long have you been watching?"

"I have been standing there since I heard you bawling your eyes out. Sorry about Newt, he was just really worried about you, he always is worried about the green-beans. By the way, what's your name?"

"Y/n, that's my name."

"Well then Y/n, we are going to need to find you some sleeping arrangements, it is already dark."

"Okay, where can I sleep?"

"We have some huts, some of the guys already sleep in them, the most important ones at least. Lucky Minho has one. And we have some hammocks outside the homestead. Your choice."

"Minho, can I sleep in your hut? I can take the floor if you want."

"Uhh, sure. If you really want to, I will take the floor though."

"Well, Y/n, now you have sleeping arrangements you'd be best to go have a sleep, you have had a rough day. We will need to talk in the morning so we can set a few boundaries."

Minho helped pull you up off of the ground.

"Let's go, I will show you my hut." he smiled so warmly that you couldn't help but calm down a bit.

He hooked his arm around your waist and walked you away to his hut.

"Here we are Y/n, this is my hut, just let me unlock it" he fumbled around his pocket for his keys and finally fished them out. when he unlocked it you got a strong smell of woodiness and a bit of boy funk, but it was quite comforting.

The room was about three meters by three meters, not too big but big enough to have his bed and chair in there.

He pushed the chair into the corner and placed a sleeping bag on the floor. He made the bed and pulled all the sheets back into place and put the pillow back on the bed. It wasn't much but it was his hut, it had bits of paper strewn everywhere and had notes scrawled on them.

He pointed to the bed "Sleep, you need it"

"But, what about you, you don't need to sleep on the floor."

"I can sleep in the sleeping bag, I say you sleep on the bed, so do it."

You got into his bed and curled up under his covers. The smell of them were so comforting. You couldn't sleep though, you felt too vulnerable, you could be hit while you were asleep, nightmares could come.

After what felt like hours of tossing and turning you finally gave up trying to sleep, you were too scared.

"Minho, are you still awake"

"Yeah, what's up Y/n? To busy wanting to talk to me than sleep hey?" Minho was half-asleep, he spoke groggily, he sounded like he was drunk.

"I can't sleep, I am too scared, I don't want to be here."

Minho got up and sat on the end of the bed.

"Look, you need to go to sleep, it isn't healthy being awake for too long. What can I do to help you sleep?"

"I don't know, I don't feel safe, what if Newt comes and yells again, and hits me this time?" You sat up. "I don't want to be alone."

"You aren't alone Y/n, how about I sit next to you until you fall asleep. Do you think that would help?"

"O-ok. Thanks"

"Would you mind scooching over though, so I can sit next to you."

"Yeah, sure." you shuffled over so that you were a bit closer to the wall.

Minho stood up and walked towards your end of the bed and sat down, well actually, more like he fell. "Sorry Y/n, just tripped on my shucking rubbish"

He pulled the covers off of you and shifted his body down so that he was lay next to you. Then he pulled the covers back onto both of you.

"Thanks Minho, I, I just don't feel safe here, or anywhere. It's like I am missing something."

Minho began to fiddle with your hair.

"You know Y/n, I think that you are overreacting. And you also need a hug"

Minho forced his arm under your back and pulled you into his warm chest, embracing you, comforting you. "Remember, I told you that you are safe with me"

"Minho, thankyou, thanks for making me feel safe, making me feel like I am worth it."

"Anytime Y/n, but maybe next time, do what you're told, you could have died today, if it weren't for Newt, I wouldn't have gotten you out in time."

"He's still scary though" you mumbled, groggily.

The warmth of Minho's chest was comforting, soothing and relaxing. You were in just the right spot to listen to his heartbeat, it was almost as mesmerizing as his footsteps when he was running.

"Y/n, I understand that, but I will keep you safe, I will protect you. so go to sleep now, I will too, I am already too comfy to go back to my sleeping bag."

You chuckled.

"Okay Minho, goodnight" then you were out like a light.

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

[cxce15]

CALLING ALL THE MAZE RUNNER ENTHUSIASTS

CALLING ALL THE MAZE RUNNER ENTHUSIASTS

If you are a writer and apart or interested in The Maze Runner

I currently call upon thee to hear my pleas

I am going back into my tmr phase

Specifically my Gally phase and my obsession with Will Poulter is rising again

Even though the man has no internet connection unless he is doing promo

So I plead that if anyone can

Will you please write for Gally in The Maze Runner

Specifically in The Death Cure because in the first movie he's a baby

And he's not in the second one

Anyway that's my rant for this post hopefully someone goes through with my request

No pressure ( yes pressure )

[justanobsessedfangirl]

A Mission - The Maze Runner Imagine

Request from Anonymous: i loved ur 'how you meet' preferences!! could you write a griever slaying fem reader? i know this sounds wack but hear me out she comes straight out the box running for the hills and instead of stopping when they tell her not to go in there she runs straight in. minho or one of the other runners find her killing a griever and theyre like what the FUCK and he drags her back to the glade like why is there a girl here why was she killing a griever and everyone is like what the FUCK just everyone being confused and bewildered at the first girl in the glade being batshit crazy

Author's Note: Thank you for the request! I hope you like it!

Word Count: 2.2k

I have a mission.

It's the first thing you remember when you wake up in this cramped box, and for a while, it's the only thing you can think.

I have a mission.

The details come to you in fragments. You know you'll have to run. You're ready for that, pacing around the rising room to keep your muscles warm.

I have a mission.

There's going to be danger, that you're sure of. The scars on your body that you have no memory of getting make you wonder if this isn't the first time you've had a mission like this. There's a long one that snakes along your calf, like someone wrapped a curl of barbed wire around your leg. Your hands are littered with tiny, long-healed cuts. When you flex your fingers, you feel strong. Hardened.

I have a mission.

The room shudders to a stop. The far half of the ceiling opens up and daylight pours in. You sink further into the shadows. The light stings your eyes, and the gentle hum of the ascent has been replaced by clamoring voices and the sound of constant movement. The box shakes with the thud of someone landing inside.

I have a mission.

You dart across the room, hearing the voices change to shock and confusion, and leap for the wall. Your fingers just barely grip the top. Your feet scrabble for purchase on the slick surface, but you're determined, you're quick, you're strong, and this is your mission so you must succeed.

You haul yourself out of the box. A mob of teenage boys stands in front of you, all around you, some laughing, some glaring, many simply confused. You run at them and they scramble away. For a strange, detached moment, you feel like a queen walking to her throne, the lords parting before her in deference, cheering.

There is no cheering as you sprint across the grass.

"He's making a run for it!" someone says, cackling.

"I think that was a girl," comes a different voice.

You run faster. Your eyes have adjusted to the brightness and you can see the blue sky, the grassy ground, and the hulking stone walls boxing you in.

Escape one box and run right into another, you think, and then, I have a mission.

There are a few breaks in the walls, massive doorways leading into a mystery. You're heading for the closest one. Behind you, there are loud footfalls and cries for you to "Stop! Don't go in there!" It sounds like someone tells you to "Stop being such a shank," but his words are choppy, confusing, and all you want is to complete your mission.

The entrance is so close, just a few more seconds of all-out sprinting, when you feel the heavy presence of someone behind you. Someone who wants to grab you. Who wants to stop you.

Without planning to, you come to a dead stop and drop into a crouch. The person behind you was too close, they can't stop soon enough, their shin collides with your back as they trip over you and slam to the ground in front of you.

You're back running before you can take a close look at him. Every muscle in your body is moving with instructions you haven't given, implementing lessons you don't remember teaching. Your surroundings are entirely new, entirely foreign—and yet, there's an uncanniness to everything you see. The colors and the season and the people are wrong. But the bones of this place, those are familiar. Especially, you realize as you enter the gap between the walls, the maze.

For the first time, your steps falter. The walls are gray stone and decked in ivy. That's wrong. They should be…they should be…

You want to shiver, the memory flees, all you know is the mission.

You sprint and take a left at the four-way intersection. All of the voices have faded. No one seems to be coming after you as you make your way down corridors, following a path that's branded like fire in your mind.

Straight. Right. Right. Left. Straight. Left. Right. Right. Straight. Straight. Straight. Left.

Here.

Here is a dead end. The walls are so thick with ivy you can barely see the stones. The air is still as a graveyard. You stand, panting, trying to remember what comes next.

From atop the wall, there's a clicking noise. You look up.

The creature is hideous, all mechanical limbs and throbbing, human-like skin. You half-expect giant wings to unfurl from its back (why? The memory slips away like a shadow) but instead it starts climbing down the ivy, whirling and clicking. Razor-sharp barbs glint along its body. Its mouth, a maw of metal, gnashes hungrily.

You remember what you have to do.

The boys find you faster than you thought they would. You hear them round the corner as the monster shrieks its death knell. Its mechanical body curls in like the husk of a bug. Blood drips down your arm, getting on the wires that droop from the metal disk you're holding. It's still warm from the creature's chest cavity, where it had been nestled like a heart. The disk is pockmarked with flashing dots of light. They blink at you a few times, the pause between each growing longer, and then they wink out. The creature at your feet, speared by its own jagged limb, falls silent.

"What the fuck."

The boy isn't asking, you realize as you turn around, the metal disk slipping from between your blood-slicked fingers. He has dark hair and dark eyes and an athlete's build, all lean muscle and confidence. His gaze darts from you to the monster, then back to the monster.

He's flanked by two others, one with shaggy brown hair and freckles who looks to him in deference, and the other, dark-skinned and serious, who steps forward, side-by-side with the speaker.

"Minho," commands the dark-skinned boy, "check that the Griever's really dead."

The boy who spoke first nods and starts toward you, trepidatious at first, then more sure as sees the monster (the Griever?) more clearly. "Definitely looks dead," he says. "I don't know how she's not."

Their stares feel like drills boring into your skin. Your back aches, hot with blood, and the muscles in your legs are tightening up. Your mission is done, you should feel happy, but you're still here in this strange, wrong, too-familiar place, and the adrenaline that had been fueling you is fading. You want to go home. You want your sleeping bag, covered in a blanket of fur and nestled in the—the—Gone. The memory is gone.

I had a mission, you think. And then you say it out loud, testing the words on your tongue, "I had a mission."

The boy closest to you, the one who'd been called Minho, stares at you like you've grown a second head. "You're jacked," he says with a breathy, perplexed chuckle.

The insult is on your lips before you can remember where it comes from: "Crackhead."

Minho lets out a booming laugh, then turns to the other boys. "Can we keep her, Alby?"

The serious boy, Alby, frowns deeper. "We need to hold a Gathering. Thomas, go tell Newt. We'll be right there."

The third boy, the one with brown hair and freckles, nods warily. He takes one last look at you and sprints back the way he came. You watch him go, ignoring the boys he left behind until you hear a clatter of metal.

Your body jerks into action, spinning around and putting your hands up, ready to fight the Griever again if you have to. But it was just Minho kicking the creature's body, poking and prodding at its innards.

"What's your name?" Alby asks from behind you.

You turn and back up a few steps so you can keep both boys in your field of vision. Minho is crouched over the Griever. Alby is staring at you, his gaze heavy, solemn. Distrustful. 

"Y/N," you tell him.

Minho pries the Griever's jaw open. His voice echoes off the metal tunnel of the Griever's throat as he asks, "How'd you avoid getting stung?"

Before you can answer, Alby cuts in, voice sharp and angry. "Where did you come from? What do you mean mission?"

Your body aches. You don't want to be here, standing over a mutated, cybernetic monster, being questioned by strangers. "I don't know. I can't remember anything."

"You remembered more than we did," Alby fires back.

Minho straightens up. "Let's get her back to the Glade, Alby. She can answer at the Gathering."

You hate their lingo, want to spit on all of the slang you don't understand because you know the words that should be there instead (it's not called the Glade, it's called the…) but you can't find the words, so you jog with them through the maze, following Minho, Alby a few paces behind you. They have you locked in. There's an urge to break away from them at one of the intersections. You could push Minho into the wall and sprint past him, only where would you go? 

"What is this place?" you ask as you run.

Minho glances back at you. He looks apprehensive, but there's a curious glint in his eyes. "We're in the Maze. Although, you really shouldn't be in here, Greenie." Looking forward again, he speaks in a louder voice, "Clearly you're a rule-breaker."

You still kind of want to push him.

As you get closer to the "Glade," you hear the murmur of voices. It gets louder and louder, until you can see the door at the end of the corridor and, beyond it, a swarm of boys. Somehow, they get even more raucous as you get closer. Their shouts blur together, meaningless words and sounds filling the air. They clamber into each other, everyone wanting to get closer, no one willing to step into the Maze.

"Out of the way, shanks!" Minho yells.

Boys push and pull, slinging insults and questions, and somehow the mass of chaos becomes two distinct groups, one on each side of you.

Minho leads you across the grass to a rustic building. It's practical and sturdy, all of the effort put towards making a building that won't fall, none left to make it inviting. Inside is quieter. For a second, you're grateful because the blood rushing in your ears and the pain singing across your body is enough noise. But as you follow Minho into another room, the air grows thick and tense. Every breath feels like you could choke on it.

Eleven boys sit in a semicircle, two empty seats amid the line. In the middle of the room is a single empty chair.

Your stomach sinks. Your feet pulse with pain.

Alby enters behind you, jerking his chin at the chair in the center. "That's yours." He watches and waits until you slowly walk to the chair and sink into it.

Your skin feels hot. You're acutely aware of the blood on your clothes, the sweat on your body. You feel like a science experiment, everyone examining you, anticipating your reactions so they can write them down, dissect them, find the answers they want. Mouth dry, you swallow and wait.

Alby and Minho take their seats, Minho beside the third boy from the Maze, the one Alby called Thomas.

"Who—"

"Why—" 

"She's a—" 

"We can't trust—"

"She killed a Griever." Alby's voice rises above the rest, the stern tone of a leader.

The other boys erupt into more questions. They bounce off the walls. You don't know who to look at, gaze darting from boy to boy until you land on the blond next to Alby. He's one of the few that isn't speaking, his brown eyes boring into yours. You don't know if he sees fatigue, fear, or anger on your face, but he gives a slight nod, almost to himself, and holds up a hand.

"Slim it!"

The others get out a few more unanswered questions before falling silent.

"What do you remember?" the blond asks, his words tinged with a familiar accent. You can't place where you've heard it, who you've heard it from, but you remember that she had blonde hair too, and…The thought fades away.

"I know I had a mission," you say. It's as simple as that, but the boys stare at you like you're speaking another language.

"What does that even—"

"Who gave you—" 

"Where the fuck did you come from?"

The blond again holds his hand up against the barrage of questions. 

The large boy to your left who spoke last scoffs and protests, "Let us ask, Newt. I know how we can get some answers."

Biting your tongue to keep more insults, origins unknown, from bursting out, you add the name to your memory, filing it with the others. The boy with the accent is Newt. The leader is Alby. You followed Minho through the Maze. And the third boy from the Maze who sits beside Minho, eyebrows furrowed together, his name is—

Thomas stands up. He looks far away, his eyes distant and unfocused. The room slowly quiets down.

"What is it, mate?" Newt asks.

Thomas doesn't look at him. For a few seconds, he just stares at the wall. Then his eyes snap to you. "She shouldn't be here."

The large boy grins, a harsh, twisted thing. "The Greenie's growing a brain."

Thomas doesn't react. Your eyes are locked with his, your breath stuck in your chest. Should you stop him? Should you beg him to continue? You don't have time to do either. Thomas stares at you and speaks.

"She's from Group B."

[dragonfly1302]

Quietude

Hello friends! I always feel so awkward doing it lol, but um, I’m actually a fic writer of just over two years, and given the recent resurrection of my maze runner obsession, I wrote a little cottagecore-themed newtmas thing about it🙈 if this fic finds you, dear tumblr tmr fandom, I hope you enjoy it! (Link below)

Newt/Thomas | 2.1k words | one-shot

Summary: Newt wasn’t afraid of dying, it was more forgetting that scared him, so Thomas promised himself he’d remember him, let him live in his heart forever. Thomas spent his whole life with blame holding him hostage, never able to forgive himself for what happened, but it was finally time he found some quietude.

You can read it right here, if you wish:)

[courtn3ysang3l]

     Let Me Die Here

Y/n ran trying to catch up with Gally, her legs felt weak. It didn't take long for her to fall into the floor. Gally turned back to see her on the ground. 

"Y/n we don't have much time. Just get up, we're on the bridge so just a little more running."

Gally said that in a harsh tone. Y/n then made gagging noises, along with wheezing. Her veins were that ugly green and black now she wasn't getting that cure in time. She threw up, a black substance spilled out of her mouth. Gally rushed over to her. 

"Holy shit! We need to get you back to Thomas and-"

"No."

That was all Y/n could get out. She sighed and looked up at Gally. Her eyes were fully black now. 

"Shoot me Gally."

She said pointing to the gun in Gally's pocket. Gally looked at the gun. He could never shoot her. Y/n was the love of his life, she may not know it but that didn't matter. 

"I'm not killing you!"

"Do it Gally, I'm going to hurt you if you don't."

There was silence for a few moments. Gally shook his head, he was not going to kill her. It took only a minute or two for Y/n to leap onto Gally. She placed her hands around his neck as she tried to choke him. Gally was simply trying to push her off. Y/n couldn't stop she just spoke to Gally. 

"Please Gally please!"

Gally still shook his head. Y/n grabbed the gun out of Gally's pocket and put it to his head. Gally was still fighting to get Y/n off of him. They fought for at least five minutes before Gally could grab the gun from her. 

He wasn't thinking. 

He was trying to live. 

He pulled the trigger. 

The bullet shot right through her head. 

She collapsed backwards. 

The blood splattered all over the ground. 

Gally immediately dropped the gun and picked Y/n up in his arms. He sat there as he held her. 

"Wake up, wake up Y/n, this isn't funny, please!"

Gally begged her to wake up. He was shocked he just shot her. He killed the love of his life. 

"Y/n I'm sorry, please come back... I love you and I can't lose you."

Gally began to cry. He fucking shot her. He felt the guilt take over. He cried as he held her numb body. 

"I'm sorry, I really am.... goodbye love."

Gally couldn't stay here forever. He needed to help everyone else. He kissed Y/n's cheek as he placed her on the ground. He stood up and stared at her before turning and walking off. 

The others will find her later..... 

[mae-gi-writes]

Finders Keepers | Gally [TMR] - Part 1

In which Gally gets soft for one of the boys in the Glade, only…is it a boy? alternatively; In which Mai disguises herself into a boy to fit in the Glade, only to be suspected by the keen eyes of the Builder's Keeper.

NEXT >>

-------

"Enjoying life, Greenie?" 

Dark eyes framed by thick lashes look up with a scowl at the said Builder's voice. And here Mai had hoped for some peace and tranquility after having spent all day out in the sun pulling out weeds and listening to Zart talk incessantly about his love of plants and whatever. 

Gally stands ahead of the new boy, leaning against one of Homestead's supporting structures with the kind of grin that makes Mai want to run for it. No wonder so many new Greenies decide that the Maze is a fair chance. When Gally's out here storming through the grounds, Mai isn't quite sure that the Glade is as safe as they all make it out to be. His temper is something to be reckoned with. 

Mai's been here for only over a week and to say that it's comfortable would be a lie. It feels suffocating, all the more because of the number of people cramped into the Glade. 

Gally takes a step towards the Greenie and the latter freezes up for a second, inwardly screaming at him to go back where he comes from because god knows Mai does not want the peace created undisturbed. But seems that Gally doesn't read faces well, for he plonks himself down next to the new boy while pushing up his shirt sleeves currently caked with mud from all the hard work he's been doing around the Glade. 

The words fall from Mai's mouth without warning, "aren't you supposed to be with your Builders?" 

For a minute, Gally's eyebrows quirk up in surprise. Not a lot of people dare to stand up to him and yet, this new recruit has the kind of fire in his eyes that makes Gally smirk. Little smartass, he thinks to himself. 

"I'm their Keeper, I can do whatever I want." 

"Slacking off is also part of that job title?" 

"You've got quite a mouth on you for a Greenie." 

Mai's scowl merely deepens before he looks away. Gally's right. That's not the right way to keep a low profile here. In the Glade, hierarchy was everything and Mai is stupid to believe that Gally's interest in him excuses Mai from any sort of punishment he might have to offer. 

"Sorry," Mai mutters. 

Gally doesn't seem to mind, clapping a hand on the younger boy's back before he pulls himself back up, "Gotta go back to work Greenie. You coming?" 

Mai grumbles but does as told, already feeling the scars on his hands where he'd been pulling out weeds all morning. He just hopes that his phase with the Garden people is just what it is - a phase. There are far more fun things to be done around the Glade and unwillingly, the Greenie casts a glance back at Gally's broad back as the latter makes his way to his newest architectural invention.

Mai feels his face flush and quickly averts his gaze, knowing full well that he needs to get a hold of himself if he wants to survive in this place.

Well, she needs to get a hold of herself. 

----

Lie.

Lie to them. And to yourself.

Lie, Mai.

Those were the first few words that Mai heard echoing in the back of her brain the moment she'd stepped out of the metal box. The crowd of boys around her hadn't suspected a thing, considering that she was dressed as a boy, had close-cropped hair and was so scrawny one could barely believe a female's body laid underneath. The words were so poignant, dripping with venom of instructions, that Mai had done as told. She'd lied to them all, for the sake of safety.

And maybe that was what had saved her, in the long run.

It's complicated living in a Glade full of horny boys. Mai has to be careful because every second counts. When she goes to the toilet, for example, making up the excuse that she needs to do "a big one" as she'd mutter out to the other boys while averting her gaze elsewhere. Or when she's changing, always volunteering to go pick out weeds and quickly dropping into the Runner's chambers so she could get into fresh clothes. The biggest challenge had been the showers. It was communal and most boys didn't care at all for privacy. So Mai had to wait out in the dark. No boys enjoyed bathing in utter darkness, so night time was her best opportunity. She'd wait until everyone was drowsy enough not to realize that she was gone, scrubbing down her body in milliseconds before shoving on her new clothes.

Thankfully, the boys are either too dumb or too preoccupied with dealing with what the Maze has to offer to give her attention, and for that Mai is grateful.

"So have you decided?"

She looks up from her bowl of soup freshly made by Frypan and herself -- they'd decided to put her with the said young man for the day to see how she would fare and in all honesty, Mai thinks that this is probably the first time she's felt at ease with something -- into Alby's dark eyes.

Their leader is not one that speaks for nothing, and so everything that does come out of his mouth is of some importance.

"I definitely don't want to be a Slicer," she responds with a shrug, and takes another gulp of her soup. The leader takes a seat across from hers with an amused smile, "why not? I think it's fitting."

"Shut up Alby," she scowls at him.

"Alright alright," he lifts his hands in surrender, "considering your frame, I say we make you a Cook. Frypan needs all the help he can get anyway."

"That's offensive," Mai states, "what's wrong with my size?"

"C'mon Greenie, you're like four feet tall. You can't hold or build nothing, you suck at gardening, you've got no shuck stamina. I think the kitchen's where you belong."

"Thanks Alby, really shucking inspirational."

"You're welcome." Alby grins. Someone cries out his name then, something to do with the Runners, and he hits you lightly on the arm as he stands, "right. Off to work, shank."

Mai watches as his back shrinks with more distance, and wonders whether Alby suspects something off about her — or him. She's so careful, always double or triple checking, but she can never be too sure. Is that why he's sticking her into the kitchen where he thinks girls belong?

No, you're thinking too much into it, Mai thinks to herself. It's fine, you're doing fine.

Obviously, it's not just fine.

She busies herself all afternoon working as Frypan's assistant in the kitchen. He is easy-going and makes her feel a lot better, something about his presence reassures her, even though the close cooking quarters makes moving about impossible without touching one another. That's not something that Mai feels comfortable with, so she does try her best to avoid moving in the same direction.

Tonight is pork curry from the Slicer's last batch, paired with flavored rice and some green beans from the Track-Hoes gardens. The boys are hungry by the time evening falls and Mai busies herself by serving them one another another, until the familiar clamour of metal causes the entire Glade to freeze.

It's been a week, and yet Mai is still not comfortable hearing the gates close them in every night. The same gates keeping them from the outside. The same gates trapping them in, in a world that they can't even control.

Mai's fury burns as she thinks of it.

"Hey," she turns to see the blonde, the one that looks like an elf with features so delicate that she might swoon at the look of him. He's the next in line, amused by the fact that she seems distracted.

"O—Oh. Sorry," she quickly shoves a few pieces of Pork into his plate and loads it up with the greenbeans, "here you go."

"Thanks Greenie," he cocks his head st her curiously, "how you holding up?"

Mai shrugs, embarrassed that she can't seem to recall his name even though she knows he's second-in-command, "doing alright I suppose. Alby finally figured out what to do with me."

"Yeah I think you're better suited for it than picking out weeds. Zart wasn't impressed."

"It's not my fault your weeds seem to be ten meters long." Mai protests as a flush creeps up her neck.

Newt laughs, "I'm joking Greenie. Relax. Anyway," he lifts his plate in mock salute, "thanks for this. Hope I don't choke on it."

"Well I hope you do!" Mai yells out after him, only to add after some minor reflection, "—a little bit."

After having served all Gladers, Mai takes her own plate and tries to find a seat. Alas, the task proves itself hard upon noticing that all tables are already full. There's only one place open — and that one place is by the Runner's table.

Now, it's not that Mai wants to be rude and ignore them altogether. But the Runners only bring out the particular memory of her pathetic wheeze after having run merely a mile, deeming her not fit for the said job. That embarrassment had only made Mai want to avoid the Runners altogether if she could.

But alas, fate is not on her side today. She spots the asian boy called Minho, whose eyebrows quirk up when their eyes meet. He casts a quick glance at her tray, has a look around, before he grins and beckons her over.

"Hey Greenie," he says as soon as her butt hits her seat. His dimpled smile paired with his pretty crescent moon eyes doesn't help with her heart, "thought you'd never wanna show your shuck face around us after that run."

"Some people aren't Runners. Get over it," you say it more in a mutter but loud enough that it gets the entire table into chuckles.

"Well I think you might just be the next Frypan," another Runner says, "I'm Ben by the way."

"Mai," she responds, not enjoying the way his eyes seem to flicker over her face in thought, as if he's trying to figure out what's off with her.

Because there is something off, just not the kind that they'd expect.

"Huh, Mai." Ben tries it out on his tongue. He takes another bite of his curry, "how are you liking the glade?"

"S'alright. I just wish the Builders could maybe build us actual beds instead of having hammocks."

"Oh he said it," Minho claps Mai's back so hard she almost spits out her food, thankful he hasn't noticed when he only slings an arm around her shoulder to pull her closer, "hey Gally! Greenie here has a problem with your hammocks!"

Uh oh. Mai's horror triples as she watches the said Builder stand from his seat. Numerous eyes have swayed across tables to land on her now. Gally strides towards them slowly, a predator confident in his skin, she can't help but squirm back.

He's intimidating and scary. And yet, her stomach squeezed with an unfamiliar feeling altogether.

"You got a problem with the hammocks?"

Gally's voice brings her back to reality. Mai blinks, "uhm—no, not at all—"

"That's not what you said a few seconds ago Greenie," Minho grins, "come on. Tell him. He doesn't bite."

"He might," mutters Ben from your other side.

"Uh— I was saying how comfortable the hammocks were," Mai responds with a nervous laugh, "so yeah— good job Gally."

Gally doesn't seem convinced, but a call from Alby stating that he wishes to see the Keepers thankfully breaks the attention from Mai.

"Right," Minho quickly clears the plates  away, but not before ruffling Mai's hair as he does so, "I'll see you guys tomorrow. Try not to die Greenie."

Mai lets out a soft sigh as the asian boy makes a run for it, followed by Gally after having thrown her another glance. He doesn't say anything though and as the Glade slowly starts to die out — boys settling into their hammocks and others taking their turns in the showers — Mai is glad when no one seems to pay her attention in favor of sleep. No surprise there, considering how tiring they are after all this hard work.

She settles into her own hammock, tied up close to the elfin-looking blonde, and tries to get comfortable. The Maze walls look even larger as she stares up at them, her breath catching in her throat as she thinks of all the boys that have lived here for months without hope.

Mai falls asleep that night, dreaming of the what ifs and the endless possibilities of what the future might hold.

She just hopes that they'll make it out one day, hopes that the echoing voices at the back of her head are just that — voices.

-----

A/N: AAANd that's a wrap for the first chapter! Like I said, I'm in a TMR brainrot so don't mind me or my obsessive behaviour towards Gally in these series. And can I just say that Will Poulter has aged like fine wine. See you in the next chapter! Do let me know if you wanna be added to the taglist <3

[zer0brainc3lls]

i bet on losing dogs pt2

masterlist

story summary: what if in the death cure (movie canon) newtmas was canon with a slight plot change added to the mix?

TW LIST: typical dystopian movie stuff (guns, killing etc), s3lf mutilation (tearing at open wounds), description of said wounds in detail, very slight mention of past su1cide attempt (its literally one sentence), cursing (if thats even a tw), thoughts of dying, (if i missed any let me know!!)

word count: 9697

authors note at the end!!!

Soon after Brenda found Newt and Thomas in the empty storage room, a plan was decided. Thomas was going to be used as bait to get teresa away from public view so they could kidnap her and take her to an abandoned church not to far from Lawrence and his army, newt wasn't technically necessary for the plan to work but thomas literally refused to cooperate until gally agreed he could come. After.. The map room incident Gally recognised Thomas had the flare and informed Brenda and Frypan pretty much immediately after Newt ran after Thomas, well that's what Brenda told him anyway. While said plan was being worked out Newt tried to ignore the way the others, mainly Gally, looked at Thomas. Whenever Thomas made even a slightly sudden movement eyes would widen slightly, or brows would furrow into tight lines. The sight made newts insides bubble in quiet yet hot rage, they trusted him not even 2 hours before and now they practically jump whenever he moves. Well except for Brenda, which Newt is grateful for. When gally said they should all get to bed Newt quickly asked Brenda if there was anything he could do to slow down the flare, since she has spent way longer in the scorch than he has. 

“Well look, his symptoms based on what you have told me have progressed.. Rapidly. Very rapidly. That's probably because of y’know.. Wicked and all that so just try to keep him calm.” Brenda's sympathetic words ringing in his head as he sat up against a concrete wall of a room full of crates with god knows what where gally had stuffed them saying “all the sleeping quarters are overcrowded as is so you're just going to have to make due.” to be fair, newt can't complain. This is the nicest place he has slept in months compared to in trucks and tents, at least they had a door and a roof. 

Thomas, Brenda and frypan had all fallen asleep quickly after they arrived. Frypan leaning against one of the many wooden crates with his arms crossed and his legs sprawled out, Brenda laid on her back with her hands under her head and legs crossed, and Thomas sat to Newts left with their hands intertwined as his head rests against the concrete wall with his mouth hanging open slightly as he sleeps. Newt can't allow his muscles to relax into sleep, all he can think about is the days ahead. Is Teresa going to cooperate? If she doesn't, what will they do? And even if she does will they be caught? Kidnapped? Tortured? Sucked dry of whatever wicked wants from them? Thomas killed due to his infection? Even if they find Minho without being caught, will Thomas turn anyway before they get the cure? Will Newt have to watch as Thomas' soft yet determined eyes he loves so dearly turn hollow and somehow full of bloodlust? 

“You trying to cut my blood supply off or what?” Newt hears Thomas murmur playfully as to not wake the others, it's only when he speaks Newt realizes how hard he was gripping onto Thomas’s hand as his thoughts spiraled. Newt loosened his grip before murmuring back ��sorry tommy, go back to sleep” he says trying to mask the clear exhaustion in his voice, thomas snorts like an idiot before saying “haha very funny, whats up?” Newt cocks his head slowly towards Thomas with his brows raised before facing away from him again, the humor from Thomas’s reaction slowly trickling out of Newt. Newt feels familiar hands slither around his waist, pulling him close. Thomas doesn’t push any harder and simply just holds him, patiently waiting for a reply. Newt doesn't know how exactly to word his thoughts properly, when he himself cant pinpoint why he feels so anxious. There's always been a risk of Thomas and everyone else in the group getting hurt so why is it bugging him now?? “What if something happens to you?” Newt says, avoiding Thomas' eyes. Newt can almost hear the wheels turn in Thomas's brain as he clenches his jaw in thought. “That's always been a possibility, you of all people know that-” “i know! I know.” Newt lowers his voice so as to not wake the others, he turns to face Thomas's large but at the moment sympathetic eyes. Before newt even registers what he's about to say he bursts out,

“What if I freeze up again?!” he whisper shouts. “You won't.'' Thomas replies sternly, his brows furrowing as if that's the most ridiculous thing he's ever heard. “No i'm being serious-” thomas grabs both sides of newts face firmly cutting him off. “You. won't. I'm absolutely positive, if you can't trust your own judgment then trust mine.” Thomas lightly shakes his face to emphasize his point, his brows softening and all sternness pours out of him as he softly smiles. “Good that?” 

“Good that.” The words practically spilling from Newt's tongue, Thomas had a strange way of captivating the blonde into believing things, jumping into plans, and overall just following him and trusting him blindly. And at the end of the day, Newt truly does trust Thomas. Thomas’s Judgment got them out of the maze, away from Janson, through the scorch, back to wicked to save minho. Newt sometimes wonders if he has the same effect on Thomas, he's pretty positive he does. It's funny, they’re both so stubborn and refuse to back down and fight others' opinions but when it's each other they’re so easily convinced. They work so well together as if they are intertwined by invisible string, even in fights the work so flawlessly together as if they share a brain. Thomas is Newt's other half, his symbol of hope, a prayer for a better tomorrow. 

Suddenly Newt found himself being held by familiar strong arms, his back pressed against Thomas’s chest with one of Newt's legs draped over his legs. Despite Newt being taller he found himself under Thomas, his fingers tracing along Thomas's knuckles. He listened to how Thomas's breathing slowly steaded into a repetitive rhythm and felt his muscles relax against Newt's back, until he too felt sleep calling to him. 

—

The next day Newt mostly spent his time making sure Thomas was calm, cool and collected to see the person they were about to.. retrieve. When Newt wasn't watching Thomas like a hawk he was mostly with Gally and the others going over the plan, what to do if B happens instead of A, where to lure Teresa, how to keep her in one spot and successfully transport her to the church without causing a ruckus. 

Gally informed them that the whole city was under curfew and there should be almost no one about, so getting her from point A to point B shouldn't be too much of a problem. As long as everything goes according to plan they should have no issues until they get to the church, that's where the real problem lies.. Newt is pretty confident in Gally's interrogation skills and it has nothing to do with Teresa because he's also pretty confident it shouldn't be super hard to make her cooperate. The real problem lies with Thomas, and his new.. Temper. Since the tunnel he's only really had two episodes of the flare really getting to him, first when he punched gally and second in the map room. Newt is almost positive the interrogation is going to at the very least be quite eventful, and at its worst Teresa ends up shot, which isn't exactly ideal. Despite his own personal feelings towards her which aren't exactly positive he's going to try and make sure thomas doesn't end up killing her or seriously injuring her, for the sake of everyone besides teresa. 

The next thing Newt knows he's standing next to gally crouched behind a wall watching as Thomas distracts Teresa while also waiting for the signal. The mere sight of them speaking his skin crawl with repulsion and anger, it's all part of the plan, slim yourself. Newt thinks silently to himself, while still clenching his jaw. He keeps his eyes locked on thomas patiently waiting for signal, after a moment or two thomas nods him and gally over. 

—

Once gally had her tied up, Newt walked slowly behind Teresa, he firmly gripped the black bag that was tied over her head and yanked it off. He made his way back to his original seating spot where he watched gally tie her up not even a moment ago, Newt couldn't ignore the fact that Teresa was staring at Thomas, as if he's going to help her. “I'm going to start off simple, where's minho.” gally begins, he lifts a chair in his arm as he walks over to Teresa “you guys don't seriously think-” the bang of Gally’s chair hitting the ground interrupts her. “Don't look at him. Why are you looking at him? Look at me. He's not going to help you.” Teresa's eyes flick towards Thomas expectedly, almost pleading with him. The look on her face makes Newt feel positivity sick to his core. Newt looks to Thomas and sees him cross armed looking back at her, his face is stone cold and his eyes are hollow. 

“We know you have minho in the building, where.” Gallys voice is laced with authority that sounds practiced, like a record player on repeat. “He's with the others in holding.. sublevel3” she replies reluctantly, her gaze on the floor. “How many others?” Newt asks cooly, he glares at Teresa and all he can think about is that night with the right arm. The screams and cries while bombs rained down, gun powder, flesh, blood. So much blood. How can Teresa think what she is doing is right?? All this suffering and torture for a cure that probably doesnt even exist?? The present world is beyond saving, why wouldn't she want to start anew? It was right there, they were all so close. 

“You can't get in without a thumb print id-'' Teresa's voice stops the swirling in Newt's mind. “That's why you're going to come with us!” Gally says condescendingly. “Do we need her though?” Thomas announces, after a moment of silence he stands up and pulls out his knife from the inside of his jacket. “Not all of her!” he gestures to Teresa with the knife in his hand almost manically. His voice sounds almost humorous? In Between the cracks Newt can tell, Thomas is slipping again. “Thomas.” Newt warns. “No seriously! Do we need her? Hmm?” Thomas questioned out loud, he walks over to her almost mockingly and crouches down in front of her “oh yeah that's right! We have these trackers, property of WICKED and all! So turns out you are needed. So either you cooperate.. Or i just cut your fucking hand off!” his voice drips with insanity, Newt doesn't have to look at him to know his eyes are large black pools with hunger for blood. Newt's eyes lock with Brenda's, her face screaming in desperation to him DO SOMETHING!! Brenda's right, Newt does need to intervene. Despite that seeing Teresa's hand being cut off would be an amazing sight, the flare feeds on blood and adrenaline and that's the exact opposite of what Thomas needs right now. 

“Greenie i SWEAR-” Newt is already walking over to Thomas as he spits out “slim it gally.” not even bothering to look in gally direction he wraps his fingers thomas’s left wrist which is strained tightly around his knife, his eyes flicking in and out of sainty. Newt runs his hand through Thomas's hair completely ignoring the pure terror in Teresa's eyes, Thomas's body relaxes slightly before he quickly stands up and storms back to where he was sitting before, he sits down and twirls the knife in his hand. Newt sits back down not listening to Gallys yells as he berates Teresa further, instead he listens to Thomas's heavy breathing and watches as his head twitches occasionally trying to fight the flare. 

“Keep him calm” 

Newt pries the knife out of Thomas’s hand with his left hand and holds Thomas's now empty hand in his right, Thomas grasps onto Newt's hand, almost crushing it. Their fingers interlocked so tightly Newt can almost feel Thomas's bones, he squeezes back but not as hard and rubs the back of Thomas's thumb with his own. Thomas’s iron grip slowly becomes almost doughy, his head no longer twitching every few seconds. Newt notes how Gally has seemed to stop yelling and stomping around like a mad man so Newt assumes the interrogation is over, Gally lets Teresa out of her restraints so she can get everyone's tags out. 

“Thanks” he hears Thomas murmur, his eyes full of care and thankfulness, back to normal. “What would bloody do without me?” he murmurs back teasingly, Thomas rolls his eyes playfully, a warm smile still remains. 

Gally gets his tag out first, then frypan, Thomas and now Newt sits in the chair. Teresa was pretty quiet while removing the others tags, she attempted to make small talk with Thomas but Newt practically drilled a hole between her eyes when she did so she promptly shut up.

“This is going to sting-” “yeah i figured.” “so try to relax.” he awaits for the scrape but after a second or two nothing happens. “go on then?” “When's the last time Brenda was treated?” “oh y’know just before you called wicked.” he snaps, venom practically running down his chin. “Wait what? She should've turnt by now-” “just do the fucking thing” his voice raising, hes already been around her long enough then needed let alone speaking. Without warning Teresa cuts into Newt's neck, pain simmers into his nape as if boiling water was poured into his veins. “She got her treatment from you, correct?” Teresa asks almost hesitantly. “yes.” Newt replies bluntly. Teresa once again without warning cuts into his nape, slightly deeper this time before pulling out his tag. She uses a clean cloth to wipe up the blood, she presses hard as she does this. Once she's finished Newt quickly stands before walking off to check out the wicked suits. 

Once dinner rolled around it was actually quite peaceful, Gally had brought some rations that compared to newts usual palate may as well be a 5 star meal. Conversation flowed and even Gally seemed to be in a good mood! This was one of the most peaceful moments they've all had in awhile, no talk of wicked, no fear, just a bunch of teens laughing and talking. After they get minho maybe it will be like this every night, hearing everyone laugh especially Thomas fills Newt up with pure hope. After tomorrow they could really be free. Actually free. 

Rations are slowly eaten, conversation turns to yawns and heavy eyelids and almost everyone except Newt, Thomas and Gally remain. “Hey I’m gonna go to bed, you coming?” Thomas asks Newt as he stands up to go find a relatively comfortable corner. “Yeah I’m done too-“ “Newt can you stay for a minute? I need to talk you.” Gally interrupts, his face not of anger and authority but.. is that pity? “Uh sure.. Tommy you go I’ll be there in abit'' Thomas shrugs and walks off into the darkness of the church, once he’s no longer visible newt turns back around expectantly with a brow raised, “not here.” Gally insists before rising to his feet, Newt curiously follows him to the back of the church away from the others secluded fully by darkness. Newt can barely see Gally avoiding his gaze in what Newt can barely make out as guilt? “So what’s up?” Newt asks, getting straight to the point.

“You know Thomas can’t come right?” Gally stated, looking towards Newt. Anger bubbles in his stomach once he says this. “What?! Why??” Newt perfectly knows why, Gally thinks he’ll compromise the mission, go full crank. “We both know he’s a liability, he’s a danger not just for Minho but for you to.” “What are you on about??” Newt spits back violently, not caring if he wakes the others. “I know I haven’t seen you in.. however long but it doesn’t take a genius to figure out you care about the greenie. And if it were to come down to you or him you would pick him, you don’t exactly have a fucking track record of putting yourself above others. The mission can’t afford that, Minho can’t afford that.” 

Newt goes to say something back but his throat doesn't let him, because the thing is. Gally’s right. If it came down to Newt or Thomas he’d pick Thomas in a heartbeat, but Newt had made a promise to him. you're not leaving my side. Got it? The words ring in Newt's ears, he can't leave Thomas now. He's at his most vulnerable state. He needs him more than anything, he can't go back on his word. Especially not now. He can't ask Thomas not to save Minho when he's the reason they are even able to do this, he can't leave him. “I can't leave him gally, i made him a promise.” gally’s face tightens in frustration, annoyance more than anything. “You can't ask that of me.” Newt adds on firmly. Gally of all people knows that arguing with Newt is a losing battle, despite that he still searches every inch of his face for even a slight chink in his armor. Newt doesn't back down, he keeps his face stone cold. “You can't ask him to do that.” his voice lowering slightly, his brows furrow. “What if he cranks out newt?! What then?!” he begins to shout but lowers his voice, his face scrunched tightly. “He won't. I’m going to get him that bloody serum even if it fucking kills me.” before Gally even has a moment to register Newt's words he's already turned on his heels storming off in rage. 

Newt manages to find Thomas in a dark corner, the only thing illuminating him is the candles lit inside the church and even then he can barely make out that Thomas's hand is up his shirt scratching rapidly. “Don't scratch love you'll only make it worse” his head flicks up rapidly, his eyes wide full of terror for a second. He stares at Newt quizzically, his brows furrowed as if Newt’s a puzzle before his eyes light up and soften in recognition. The sight before him makes Newt's heart pang with guilt, he slowly walks over to Thomas and sits beside him. He extends his arms and Thomas accepts and allows Newt to wrap his arms around him as he always does, Newt leans across Thomas and grabs Thomas’s bag which was next to him before placing it at his side so he can rummage around for a cloth. He finds the cloth he used the night before. Guess it’ll have to do. He thought as he bit his tongue, Newt gestured the cloth to Thomas. “Are you bleeding?” He mumbles as if he can't see the fact that Thomas's hands are covered in blood. Thomas nods, almost ashamed. “C'mon I'll patch you up, you need new bandages anyway.” “Are you sure? It's super gross- “ “yes i'm sure. Slim it and turn around.'' Newt cuts him off quickly, Thomas turns to face him and lifts his shirt and discards it on top of his jacket that's beside him. Newt rummages around in Thomas's bag for the last of his bandages and rubbing alcohol, he turns to face him and the sight horrifies him. The once 3 almost straight lines are almost torn apart and scratched up, dried and fresh blood drips down his chest, black and green oily puss along side it. The once thin and small black veins are twice their size and triple the length, the darkness fully visible and they pulse like worms beneath his skin. Newt knows that flare victims tend to unwillingly hurt themselves, ripping out their own eyes, biting off fingers and such. But seeing Thomas do that breaks his heart into pieces. How could it progress so fast?? Usually it takes weeks, sometimes a month to even get to this stage and it's been days. 

Stress. Of course. No amount of love and softenness and deter that, their amount to go march into wicked for fuck sake, of course its progressing rapidly what else could Newt expect?? That Thomas is somehow super human and that the flare would progress slowly?? How stupid. How fucking stupid of him to hope. Of course this would happen! Why wouldnt it? Thomas is already showing late signs of the flare, self mutilation, aggressive speech and that look in his eyes moments before, is his memory already deteriorating? How long until he forgets the mission at hand? Until he forgets minho? brenda? Frypan? Jorge? Gally? Him?? 

“So doc how's it looking?” Thomas says sarcastically in an attempt to cheer him up. Newt rolls his eyes before swallowing the lump in his throat, he drenches the cloth in rubbing alcohol, he quickly wipes down Thomas’s hands because there’s no way all that gore and pus could be comfortable, counts down from three and presses the cloth to Thomas's chest. Thomas groans in pain but doesn't flinch or move away from him, his eyes sewn shut and lips pressed together tightly. Any humor left in him seeping from his wounds, Newt can feel Thomas's rapid heartbeat as he cleans out the smaller cuts and scrapes. The smell nauseates Newt, once he finishes he pauses for a moment giving Thomas a minute to breath. “I'm up to the hard part now, i'll make it quick I promise” Thomas grips onto Newt's shoulder, takes in a large gulp of air before nodding quickly.

Newt drenches the cloth again and counts down quickly, Thomas's grip tightens slightly as he does. He quickly places the cloth on his chest, his fingers moving as fast as they can to get the pus out. As seconds pass Thomas's grip only tightens painfully and he starts mumbling incoherently to himself almost angrily, as if he's arguing with his brain to stay put. “Can you go any slower??” Thomas grumbles angrily, Newt ignores him knowing it's not Thomas speaking to him. After a few more seconds Newt removes his hand “There. All done.” he says urgently, Thomas’s eyes flick open. He looks at his chest, then Newt, his chest, then finally he locks his gaze onto Newt. His eyes were full of curiosity. Before Newt can even ask what's wrong Thomas brings his hand up to Newt's head, his fingers softly run through his hair all the way to the back of his head and eventually down his neck. Fire trails whenever his hand moves. His hand finds its way to Newt's jaw, Thomas cups it with his hand and turns Newt's head as if he's looking at an ancient sculpture. “are you ok??” Newt says slowly, crimson spreads across his face. 

“You're so.. Familiar.” 

Whatever is left of Newt's heart sinks all the way down to his feet, Thomas, the only who has seen him at his worst, Thomas the boy he would sneak around with, Thomas with his chapped lips and eyes that seek him out in a crowd, thomas who held him in cold nights in the scorch doesn't know who he is. His whole body feels heavy, his eyes fill with tears that he tries to hold back. “What do you remember?” he manages to choke out. “I care about you, I know that much. And I trust you.” better than nothing. Thomas’s eyes search his face, no freckle, acne scar, or facial feature left unturned. Newt locks his eyes onto Thomas’s staring into his soul, trying to see exactly what he's thinking. “You.. keep a knife in your waistband?” Newt nods at the fact, he doesn't know how to help him remember. He takes Thomas's hand that isn't on his face and intertwines it with his, Thomas reciprocates without hesitation. “I have known you ever since I can remember and I can't remember your name!” he announces harishily. “It's ok take your time” Thomas leans in closer, fully examining Newt's face again. His eyes desperate and angry with himself, he squints as if he’ll find something that will jog his memory. He's impossibly close, his nose almost brushing with Newts. his heart leaps out of his chest at the closeness, his eyes flick to thomas’s lips and back up to his eyes. 

Newt leans in a little before pausing, Thomas doesn't back away. Newt closes the distance between them and kisses Thomas impossibly soft, as if he would shatter into pieces if he's not careful. Thomas holds onto Newt's jaw like a lifeline, like it's the only thing keeping him from slipping away. Newt pulls away barely, Thomas's lips and eyes glistening in the candlelight that illuminates the church. his lips brush against Thomas's as he mumbles, “does that jog your memory?” Thomas's face sparks in recognition before mumbling back “hmm maybe another would do the trick.” Newt hums back before kissing him again, a little harder this time. Thomas pulls Newt in by the waist, Newt basically ends up in his lap. The kiss is impossibly slow and tender and he's loving every second of it, time stops and for a few minutes it's just them, No Wicked, no Janson, no fear for the next day. It's just teeth against teeth, smiles against smiles, shushing each other and holding back laughter. Warmth courses through Newt's entire body, this is the best he's felt in forever. His heart stitching itself back together, it feels like they have all the time in the world. 

Eventually lips part, limbs untangle and bandages are done and it's just them holding hands in that small dark corner of the church. Thomas’s head leans on Newt's shoulder, his breathing soft and steady as he peacefully sleeps. Newt refuses to worry about the next day, or anything for that matter. This is the one night he's just going to sleep with nothing on his mind, and that's exactly what he does. 

The next day is spent planning, double checking plans, trying on wicked suits, triple checking maps, they run it again and again for any possible flaws. The plan is simple: get in, get minho, get the serum, shoot it straight into Thomas right then and there, get out. If everything is where it needs to be it should work flawlessly, they’ll be back in the safe haven happy as ever. Newt repeats the promise he made to himself in his head: I won't let Thomas die, I won't let Thomas die, I won't let Thomas die. Like a prayer over and over, a solemn oath that can't be broken. As if this action alone will keep death's icy cold hands from Thomas’s radiating warmth. The next thing newt knows they are marching through the sensors at wicked front doors. 

Newt keeps his head up and locked refusing to look anywhere but forward, he doesn't dare to breathe as they pass through the sensors. The sensor flashes green and he holds back the urge to sigh from the relief that floods through him, they walk through wicked headquarters, Newt leading forwards with Teresa in the middle and Thomas up the back keeping her up to speed. Soon gally slides into their group almost effortlessly, Newt forgets Gallys a soldier. He's trained for this, the past six months of his life have led up to this very day. Gally marches in front of Newt, leading them to a stairwell. Gally grabs Teresa by the sleeve and harshly pulls her to the keypad next to the door, she reluctantly places her thumb against it and the door opens with a hiss almost immediately. 

Newt storms in, gun up looking around frantically. Newt, Thomas and Teresa start to make their way down the stairs before Gally announces “wait wait i can get in here!” he lifts his mask before thomas replies with “throw me the walkie” gally chucks the walkie to thomas, thomas catches it and goes down the stairs. Newt hears him coughing as he goes, Newt looks at Teresa who's already looking at him. “Newt i think-” “slim it teresa” he retorted quickly. Newt watches as gally drills into the console on the wall, sparks fly as the metal wails at being torn apart. 

Thomas comes back up the stairs, one hand clutching onto the railing and the other radio in hand. “Frypan-” he hacks again before continuing “we’re in how you doing?” “yeah yeah i'm getting there, tell minho hi for me!” gally flings the console open and messes with the wires and whatnot while thomas speaks to brenda on the radio checking in on her as well, newt stands between them gun in hand incase they get caught. “All right, let go!” gally shouts as he stuck something to override wicked systems into the console before slamming it shut. 

Gally leads the way, the twist and turn through corridors and doors. The maps previously studied being brought to life, Newt's heart races as they journey towards the immunes. What state will Minho be in? Skinny and frail? Beat up and bruised?? Absolutely insane from torture?? All the possibilities make his skin crawl. Eventually they make it to the door, Thomas takes the lead gun up waiting for someone to step through. Soon enough someone does and pure chaos breaks out.

Thomas shoots the guy and they storm in guns ablaze, shooting all wicked employees in the room. Bodies drop and convulse on the floor and Newt goes to a cell and opens it, as he does he takes his mask off. When he does the kids in the room physically relax at the realization he's not a wicked guard, the sight is truly sad. What have they done to these kids for them to react like that? He quickly scans the room for Minho, to find nothing. Newt is already walking to the other side of the room when Thomas calls out “Newt go check the other side”, his voice firm and authoritarian. When on missions Newt and Thomas sync as one, doing things before the other asks, covering for each other and sensing when the other is in danger. They work together as a flawless unit. On the rare occasion they do anything alone they barely need to speak to each other, one look, one movement and they know what to do, this is extremely convenient for them and irritating for everyone else. 

Newt goes over to the next cell expecting Minho to be there, pumped up and ready to go. Dread fills him when he sees he isn’t there, he storms over to Teresa and grabs her wrist hard “where’s Minho.” He grumbles, his voice lowering dangerously. “I don’t know-“ his grip tightens and her eyes twitch as she fights to yelp in pain. “If you let go I can fucking check.” Newt clenches his jaw before shoving her away, she glares at him threateningly. Newt raises his brow and she turns around to check where he went. 

“Is that bloody vault open??” He almost shouts in impatience, Newt is usually a very patient person but every second that passes the flare eats away Thomas's brain and that fact makes Newt tip dangerously close to the end of his patience. “It's gonna take awhile, don’t rush me!” Gally barks back as he works on the vault. “He’s in the medical wing..” Teresa says breathlessly, this isn’t something she anticipated. “Alright then, let’s get a move on” Newt says as he moves to the exit, “that’s on the other side of the building-“ she begins, “does it look like I fucking care?? Let’s. Move.” He restrains himself from shouting at her, she moves towards Newt, Thomas following close behind- Thomas is following her??

“Tommy, where the hell are you going??” He raises a brow, his tone shifting from anger to confusion. “With you??” He answers equally as confused. “You need to stay here and wait for the serum-“ he begins patiently before Gally announces “it’s fine I’ve got it!! Get Minho and meet us around back!!” Newt looks between the vault and Thomas a few times, he won’t lie Thomas would be a massive help but what if they don’t make it back in time?? What if something happens- “Newt cmon let go” Thomas says, snapping him out of his thoughts, Thomas smiles at him for a moment and Newt breaks. “.. fine.” He announced before he, Thomas and Teresa leave the room. 

They walk through wicked corridors once more, going up stairs and through doors til they reach an elevator. Newt clicks it impatiently, cursing under his breath when it doesn’t immediately open. When it opens, Newt and Thomas immediately walk in, Teresa following suit. The elevator doors slowly start to close-

A hand reaches between the doors. 

The doors slowly crawl back open to reveal a sight that makes Newt's stomach drop. Janson in all of his rat faced glory. The putrid man steps inside and for a moment newt thinks he is going to pull out his revolver and shoot him and Thomas dead, his hands tighten around his gun as Janson steps next to Teresa. Oh yeah we have masks on newt dumbly realized, newt mostly blocks him out and focuses on Thomas. Watching him from the corner of his eye, waiting for a twitch or tic in case all hell breaks loose. 

“Thomas is here.” The ratman announces.

Well fuck. 

Teresa turns to face Janson and somehow Newt's grip on his gun gets impossibly tighter as his heart pumps in his ears. 

“The surveillance picked him up outside the walls, Ava didn’t want you to know but if he does try to contact you.. well I’d like to think I would be your first call.” Newt focuses purely on Teresa, for any sign or signal she could possibly be giving Janson to tell him yeah about that he’s actually right behind you!! But instead she mumbles “are you going to kill him..?” The care in her tone makes Newt feel sick with anger, she didn’t care when she called wicked and he could’ve died but suddenly she cares now?-

“Would that be a problem?” 

Newt now has decided that the moment he gets the chance he’s going to murder Janson. 

The elevator beeps and Teresa gives a comment newt doesn’t care to hear, she walks out quickly and newt follows close behind purposely bumping into Janson on the way out, a little harder then intended but aw well he doesn’t care. By the sounds of it Thomas did the same, he grins to himself for a moment before continuing on.

—

“Newt you need to listen to me, that serum won’t save Thomas! It might buy him some time but-“ “shut it Teresa.” Thomas spits, pushing her along. “Newt, listen!! You want to save Thomas don’t you??” Newt nearly shoots her right then and there but instead he forces himself to choke out “just open the bloody door” “there’s something about your blood!” She opens the door as she says this and Newt silently walks in, Thomas following suit, he uses all his will power to ignore her and not shoot her brains out. “I promise I can protect you-“ 

Newt snaps

“Oh yeah?!?! Like you protected Minho?! If didn’t need to rescue FUCKING him THOMAS WOULDNT HAVE THE BLOODY FLARE-“ Thomas promptly takes the lead by gently but quickly pulling him back, Newt lets him because if he kept shouting at her every wicked guard within the area would’ve heard him. That's when he begins scolding her as well but in a more quiet fashion… unlike newt. 

“How many more people is it going to take?! How many more people are they going to have to round up, Torture, And kill?!” He refrains from screaming, scolding her through gritted teeth, mask off fully open to anyone who rounds a corner. Newt goes to tell him to put his mask back on before Teresa spits back “it stops when we find a cure-!” Thomas pulls his pistol out of his holster and under Teresa's chin. “THERE IS NO GODDAMN CURE.” So much for being quiet. He's screaming at her now, the black veins that now have knitted themselves around his neck pulse angrily, hungry for blood. 

“Don't waste your breath Teresa!” Janson calls out, newt steps back out next to Thomas who has now pointed his gun at Teresa’s temple. “Tell him to back off!! TELL HIM TO BACK OFF!!” He screams in her ear, he's got her in a head lock as he pushes the gun harder against her head. “Hey Thomas cmon.. it’s me. I’ve known you longer than you can remember, you're not gonna shoot her. Flare or not.” 

Jansons gun is pointed directly towards Thomas as he slowly steps closer, Newt aims his gun towards jansons head, his eyes fully locked on his fingers that rest around the trigger. The safety is clicked off as far as Newt can tell so he’s waiting, watching for any tick, twitch or slight movement in his fingers because if he tries anything, Janson is going to need a headstone. 

“You don’t think so?!” Thomas barks out at Janson almost manically, as if it’s the funniest thing someone has ever said to him. “Ok.. go on then.” Janson lowers the gun by his side and Newt’s heartbeat steadily decreases significantly. “Shoot. Her. Prove me wrong!” He calls back coolly, confident in the fact Thomas won’t shoot, and for once Newt agrees with him. Thomas wouldn't shoot someone like this, Teresa or not. It's not in his moral code. So what the hell are they going to do-

Teresa pushes both Thomas and Newt through the entrance behind them and pulls some sort of red alarm that causes thick heavy glass to come from the top of the doorway and clicks with the floor, a siren sounds, blasting through the entire building. Newt just stares at Teresa, why would she do that? Why would she possibly- 

Those doors aren’t opening back up.

Newt pulls off his mask since clearly the plan has gone to complete and utter shit just so Janson can see his face as he walks after Thomas. 

Newt and Thomas run through the medical wing, dipping into corners, shooting wicked guards and such. At one point they come to a fork in the labyrinth, Thomas sees Ava holding his gun up prepared to shoot, Newt turns towards a different hallway and sees Janson, gun in hand, about to shoot. “THOMAS NO” he screeches, grabbing onto Thomas’s shirt and pulling him into a hallway to avoid the cross fire of bullets that spray through the hallway. 

They continue on like this for a while, Thomas slowly but surely is deteriorating. Not but much, but every so often he misses a shot or almost trips over his own two feet. Luckily for Thomas, Newt is on a mission. He simultaneously covers for himself and Thomas at the same time when needed, when Thomas’s reactions delay Newt has already shot the soldier and a few more. I won’t let Thomas die, the sentence rings through his head and courses through his whole being, he breathes and exhales this promise. Anytime they run out of ammo, Newt has already bagged new guns from once convulsing bodies on the ground and shoves a gun into Thomas’s hands before his own. How his leg hasn’t given out? Newt truly doesn’t know, his leg screams and cries out at every step but it’s as if the pain is just another sensation, another thing. He runs, punches, kicks through sheer will power and determination alone. All the fighting blurs to him, he flies into autopilot. Grenade, bodies. guns, bodies. punches, bodies.

Newt and Thomas are out of ammo and newt just pulled a stunt with a grenade, they turn to run down a hallway until a wicked soldier screams at them to get on the ground. Pure fear lines the blood that travels across Newts muscles and bone, his eyes frantically flick around for something anything-

Minho rams into the guard screaming his head off, grabs the soldier and shoves him into a window causing glass to shatter all across the floor. Once he does he just screeches a low guttural sound of pure pain, grief and anger. It takes him a moment before he even register Newt and Thomas are even there, he stands there eyes wide in shock and disbelief. As if he’s finally lost his marbles and he’s dreaming.

It takes Newt and Thomas a second too, Newt feels like he just came out of a fever dream of screams of the injured and safeguarding Thomas with his life he truly forgot how to feel. For the first time since they entered the medical wing, Newt feels something real, relief. His leg threatens to give out right then and there as Thomas and Newt both run over to him and pull him so tight into a hug newt wonders if his lungs will ever fill with air again, but he doesn’t care. He would struggle to breath all his life if it meant keeping Thomas and Minho safe. 

“Is this real?” Minho asks, genuinely asks. His face shines with happiness and relief that his longing has finally come to an end, before Thomas and Newt can even nod back they hear wicked soldiers storm into the hallway guns ablaze. no time for catching up over tea, they are in a war zone. 

Newt adds to his oath. I won’t let Thomas and Minho die. Minho’s stride is nothing like it used to be in the glade, he doesn’t radiate confidence or steadiness in his feet. No no. His feet and muscles are unsure or where to take him, like getting on a bike for the first time in years. Despite that he is still fast and strong as he runs despite the clear malnutrition and torture his body has been through, no where near the level he was at before but his body miraculously carry’s him, or at least is attempting to, like a runner.   

They all push on, Thomas despite the flare, Newt despite his limp, and Minho despite his treatment they push harder than they ever have, for freedom. For the future. For a promise of a safe tomorrow. They sprint down a hallway until they get cornered by a handful of wicked guards, “IN HERE” Thomas yells as he pushes open a door before locking it behind him, Newt and Minho push a shelf in front of it the moment Thomas backs away. They all connect in sync. Newt and Minho back away from the door, standing next to Thomas who looks just as confused and petrified as him. 

“Well shit.” Thomas mumbled just before the sound of a drill cutting into metal assaults newts ears, sparks fly from top to bottom on the opening of the door. “Any ideas?!” Minho shouts as they all back away even further, Thomas looks out the window and back towards Newt and Minho “maybe.” 

The next thing Newt knows Minho and Thomas are chucking some metal tube out of the window, the glass shatters loudly as the metal cylinder falls. Newt runs next to Thomas and Minho and watches as it splashes into the dark pool below. 

“Ok.. it’s doable. Just need uh- a running start.” Thomas mutters clearly unsure with himself, he backs up from the window as he says this. Newt gives Minho a is he fucking nuts look and Minho reciprocates with the exact same facial expression. 

Well at least everyone is on the same page! 

“you sure about this??” Minho asks as they all prepare to dive out of the window. “Not really!” Thomas replies just as unsure as before. “Nice pep talk.” “Yeah.. we’re all bloody inspired.” That’s when the sound of a bang and a door being kicked open rings through the room, without hesitation they all sprint towards the window and fall down all 20ish stories. Newt feels the wind in his hair and his stomach falling as he drops, he’s felt this feeling before. His screams of terror are luckily met with Thomas and Minhos screams also, the feeling of the water crashing against his body comes faster and harder than expected. 

Newt hasn’t felt being underwater since in the glade, he remembers the early days when he, Minho, Alby and all the original gladers would swim through the small lake they had. And even then he could see the bottom of the lake, even in the deepest part the sandy ground was only inches beneath him. This water does not glisten a bright blue in the sunlight and bring laughter, no. The water is dark and impossibly deep, it makes sense that even wicked pools harbor dark secrets. 

Newt pulls himself out of the water with only a slight struggle, Minho does the same. Newt has to grab Thomas and lift him up and help him get to his feet, it’s getting worse. He swallows the lump in his throat along with his worry before he hears heavy footsteps and guns cocking. 

“Oh you’ve got to be kidding.” Thomas mumbles as they all turn around, they see 4 wicked guards barking orders at them, Newt desperately looks around for any route of escape. Maybe we can jump in the water and book it? No we would get shot, can I shoot them before they shoot Thomas or Minho? No, it's 4 guys. Even if I do manage to shoot one of them first at least one of us will get shot-

BANG BANG BANG

one of the wicked guards shoots the other three, thank you, gally!!

Gally removes his mask, looks at the broken window above and back towards Newt and the others soaking wet clothes before saying “you guys are nuts. Cmon!” 

They all break out into a sprint, after a minute or two of running they find cover. Newt slides down quickly next to Gally before asking “Gally how far are the tunnels??” “Maybe twelve blocks from here-“ he begins to reply before he’s interrupted by the sound of Thomas hacking and coughing violently. Newt's gut falls all the way down to his toes and worry fogs his judgment. “We can make it” Gally says, trying to ease Newt's nerves to no avail. 

Newt sits there staring at Thomas as he talks to Minho, he can’t help but think about Thomas turning before they make it back to the tunnels. No. No way. Newt will drag Thomas’s limp body through the city before that happens, they’ll make it. They have to.

Newt didn’t even notice Minho sliding next to him as he says “hey, when did he-?” Minho chokes on his words, unable to vocalize Thomas’s condition. His brows furrowed with worry as he looked between Newt and Thomas, “he’ll be fine, just gotta get to Brenda.” Newt manages to reply with, Newt quickly goes over to Thomas and says gently “cmon Tommy we gotta go” he grabs Thomas’s hand with one hand and uses his other hand to grab the fabric of his wicked suit to pull him up, Thomas struggles to gets to his feet and groans as he attempts too, his throat clearly filled with a sickening substance. Newt ignores the sound and gets Thomas to his feet.

When Thomas manages to face Newt his eyes are mostly hollow but he’s still there, Newt looks into his eyes and can tell Thomas is looking back. Newt places a hand on Thomas’s shoulder in case he loses his footing and softly cups his face with the other before mumbling “you’ll be fine, alright?” Thomas barely manages to nod as Newt wraps Thomas’s arm around his shoulder before turning his attention back to Minho and Gally. 

Minho rushes over to wrap Thomas’s other arm around his shoulder, he takes a significant amount of Thomas’s weight off of Newt's shoulders. Gally leads the way as they run through the city, if Minho wasn’t carrying Thomas Newt doesn’t know if he could’ve. His leg whines at him to collapse, to give out, to give up. Newt refuses to collapse even though his body begs him to and ignores the searing pain that shoots up his body every time he steps. 

At one point bombs start raining down, Gally makes some sort of comment newt doesn’t listen to, as all he can hear is Thomas’s shaky liquid filled breathing and the coughing and hacking that becomes more frequent with every minute that passes. Another dreadful reminder of Thomas’s infection as if the literal weight on his shoulders isn’t enough.

“The tunnels are right up ahead-” Gally begins to announce as the sounds of more bombs raining down onto the city interrupts him violently, Newt and Minho lower Thomas as they all take cover. The smell of gunpowder and fire burn the insides of newts noise, a full battle between wicked and the right arm taking place not even 50 meters away makes the ground vibrate and shake aggressively, urging them to move on. “LETS GO LETS GO” Gally commands, Newt and Minho grab Thomas’s arms once more and half help, half carry him through the streets that rage with violence and vengeance. 

They barely make it even a few blocks before they are forced to take cover once more, the realization dawns on all of them. They aren’t going to make it. Newt reaches for his radio to tell Brenda to leave since Thomas is clearly too weak to do so before as if this action alone summoned her Newt hears her chime in on the radio. “How you guys holding up?” She asks concerned, Newt can almost see her brows furrowing, “bloody awful, you guys need to leave without us we aren’t gonna make-“ “no. No absolutely not, I’m not leaving you guys alright?!” She interrupts him harshly, she sounds almost offended that Newt would even suggest that. Newt is stunned and doesn’t know how to reply to her, that’s when he hears the faint sound of a berg roaring through his radio. “Don’t worry newt!! We're coming to you, our rides here!!” Before Newt can even ask what she’s talking about the radio clicks, signifying she’s gone. 

—

“We’re almost there!!” Gally shouts encouragingly, even Newt's good leg isn’t in the best state, Newt doesn’t even want to think about his bad leg as he desperately tries to ignore the unforgiving pain that shrieks at him to collapse to the ground. “You need to- you need to leave me” Thomas struggles to say with his clogged throat, his hacks up sticky black liquid mid sentence. His voice emits full defeat, begging for death. Newt, Minho and Gally don’t even humor his cries as they push through the city. 

Explosions ignite ahead, Newt can barely hear Gallys orders as they take cover from the explosive balls of death that rain all around them. Thomas’s head slowly moves around, taking in the whole scene with his eyes wide and mouth slightly agape, truly perplexed at the sight before him. His eyes go from souless to full of life in an instance begging to be left behind, insisting they need to run, to leave. Black oil-like substance drips from his mouth and onto his uniform, black veins pulse violently all across his face now, his body limp. His muscles refusing to cooperate with him, eventually he doesn’t even hold his head up anymore as he leans his head back against the concrete behind him closing his eyes, mumbling incoherent pleas to be left to die. 

“Minho, you need to go ahead, get the serum and come back. Gally can cover you.” Newt says, not asks. His voice dead as he speaks, his eyes locked on Thomas’s deteriorating frame. “What-?” “Minho please.” He twists his neck to face Minho, his voice wobbles as he speaks. His throat tightens, his lip quivering. Minho looks between Newt and Thomas before murmuring a barely audible “alright.” He grasps Thomas’s shoulder, attempting to smile encouragingly but it more comes out as sympathy and concern before choking out “I’ll see you later shank.” Thomas lifts his head weakly before muttering, “thanks man.” He smiles tiredly before his face droops once more. Gally presses his lips into a tight line before nodding at newt, his gesture speaking volumes. Gally acknowledges that Newt won’t let anything happen to Thomas, that Thomas is in good hands. 

“if it were to come down to you or him you would pick him” 

Before Newt could even respond with a nod Gally yelled for Minho to go and they ran off into the fire and ash, smoke stings Newt's nose and makes his eyes water. Newt turned to look at Thomas, his breath rigid and his pupils blown in fury, his chest heaving with every gulp of air he took. Black liquid entirely covers his chin now, his speech disorganized and wrong. “Newt you- you need to leave! I dont- I cant-” Newt can barely make out Thomas’s words as they gargle against the liquid that encases his throat, “we need to leave, right now!!” Newt's tone is desperate as he shouts over the shrieks and gunfire. Newt grips onto Thomas wrists, Thomas weakly pulls against him. Newt tugs again, harder this time. Unforgiving. Refusing to let Thomas give up, this time Thomas cooperates and lets Newt basically carry him as he stumbles on his feet in an attempt to walk with him. Newt wraps one of Thomas’s arms around his shoulders, Newt wraps one of his arms around the stumbling boy's waist to keep him up right. 

Newt's own body wobbles dangerously as he practically drags Thomas away from the collapsing city, his whole body is fueled by determination and grief alone. If Thomas's pulse went to a stop, Newt would, too, fall with him. Newt is speaking the whole time they stumble together, “there you go-” “ok put your leg up there's a curb-” “one, two, one, two-” “were almost there I promise-” “just a little further-” thomas really does try, he puts all his effort into every step, his groaning and cries only interrupting by nonsensical mumbling. The black liquid never stops dripping from his mouth as they move, leaving a trail oil like substance for anyone who dared to follow them. 

Thomas goes limp. 

Thomas’s body gives up on him, resulting in Newt stumbling down to the ground with him. Pure euphoria shoots through every vein, muscle and bone in his body at the collapse, Newt wishes he could lay on the ground forever. Watch the bombs die down, witness as the scorching sun rises and falls day in and day out and feel the earth take him into a slow peaceful death. That wouldn't be so bad, no? I won't let thomas die 

Newt forces himself to his feet, he stumbles and fails twice before regaining his footing. All while ignoring Thomas’s pleads to be left behind, forgotten, to pay for the deaths of everyone. He too, wants to let earth take him quietly. They were always so similar weren't they? Newt wraps Thomas's arms around his neck, Newt's back pressed against Thomas’s stomach as he tries to lift the boy's frail feet off the ground. He hears cries of hell-bent determination and agony rip through his ears, he can't tell who's screaming anymore. Maybe they both are, that would make sense. His thought barely made itself out over the chaos, somehow the 6-8 steps Newt managed to carry Thomas felt like enough pain for a lifetime before Newt fell backwards, Thomas’s body weight was too much for him to carry on his back. He doesn't even remember hitting the ground before he's on his feet again, hooking his arms under Thomas's arms as he drags him relentlessly. 

“CMON THOMAS” he wails the loudest he thinks his voice will ever go, every other step he falls down. After the fourth time he physically can't stand, his leg tremors violently. “We- we need to-” His chest heaves, Newt's jaw fully open in an attempt to fill his lungs to absolute capacity. Newt doesn't even realize Thomas's shoulders were pressed against his lower stomach until he rolls off him sluggishly. Newt rolls his head to the left of him where Thomas now lays, the only signs of life being his back taking moves every time he breathes and the hacking that comes along with it. “We need to- to keep moving” Newt closes his eyes as he speaks, for a moment newt hopes childishly that maybe this is all one big terrifying nightmare. That he will wake up in the safe haven vince is always talking about, a beach, green grass with colorful flowers he wishes he could learn the names of, a sun that doesnt turn your skin red and make it peel off painfully, and that maybe he will wake up in a hammock to the sounds of gentle waves. With Thomas nearby sleeping peacefully, the sun bouncing off his chocolatey hair as his breathing is deep and unclogged. Everyone would wake up or sleep in if they chose to, then have breakfast. Newt can almost hear everyone's laughter and talking, Thomas, Minho, Frypan, Gally, Brenda, Treasa- 

No.

He can actually hear Treasa. 

“Your blood Newt, it kills the virus! You need to- '' Newt is pulled out of his fantasyland, the rest of her words drowning out as an unimportant buzz in the back of his mind. His eyes snap open, he leans against one of his elbows and looks around for Treasa, Newt realizes she's speaking over a speaker. She's still at the tower, Newt turns his head to face Thomas, to see what he thinks of the fact Newt is the cure. 

…

That's not Thomas.

Authors note!!: hey guys!! i hope you enjoyed this chapter <3 I'm so sorry i took so long to get this done, its hard to write at my dads house since i have to use my phone lol :( also super duper sorry i cut it off like that 😭 i originally planned to do the rest of the scene but then the next chapter would've been significantly shorter then the rest so i do apologize.

this chapter was SO fun to write!! Newt acts a lot differently in this fic then in the original movie and there is a reason, in the death cure HES the one dying so obviously he's weaker and also he's just trying to rescue Minho and not be a burden to the mission. but in this fic that obviously isn't the case, he's so angry at everything thats happened and Thomas slowly losing himself is his tipping point as he slowly loses his patience for everyone except Thomas, Minho and Brenda. he's so determined to keep everyone else alive he slowly loses HIMSELF in the process and i tried to highlight through his anger towards Teresa and Janson and i hope i did an ok job at giving this idea justice.

anyways ill stop my yapping lol, hope your pumped for the next chapter!!!! :D

master list is above but here it is again incase you missed it

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[mysticaldeanvoidhorse]

Together Always

Gally x Reader

The Maze Runner

Part 2

     You had been there a week, and had spent a few days at each job trying to figure out what you would do.  Today was the day you would be working with the builders.  You couldn’t help but be nervous, not knowing if you were any good at it but mostly hoping you would be able to impress Gally, or at least not embarrass yourself in front of him.  You had found that you wanted to impress him more than the others and though it was early, you knew you were having feelings for this particular Keeper. You knew that wasn’t a good thing, knowing it wasn’t a good idea to have feelings for any of the boys but especially this one; mainly because you knew he would never feel the same.  He was so closed off and hardly seemed to notice you even existed.  However that would change since he would be overseeing you today.

     At breakfast, you went to sit next to Newt, who quickly became your closest friend.  You realized everyone liked him and you weren’t surprised at all.

“Hey Newt,”  You greeted, sitting down across from him.

“Hey Y/N, ready to try out a new task?”  He asked.

“Not really, I feel like I will somehow mess up”  You laughed, trying to hide your nerves.  The truth was you weren't nervous about any other task, knowing if it wasn’t a fit you would find something else.  This particular task had more at stake.

“You’ll be fine, besides Gally won’t let you do anything too stupid. He is pretty good at making sure everyone stays safe.”  As if appearing out of nowhere, Gally had just shown up.

“Talking about me, Newt?”  You quickly turned to see him standing next to you.

“Yep, just reassuring your mentee that you won’t let her screw up too badly.”  You shot him a bored look.

“Nah, I’ll make sure she doesn’t hurt anyone.  Mostly worried she will hurt herself.”  You couldn’t tell if he was completely joking or not.

“Hey, I am not that bad!”  You faked being hurt.

“Guess we will see.”  Gally smirked at you.  His intense stare still had you weak in the knees and you were glad you were sitting down already.

“Guess you will have to keep a close eye on her.”  Newt said, though you were too busy to see him and Minho exchange a knowing look.

“I guess so.”  Gally said, not breaking eye contact.  

     After breakfast Gally had brought you to the worksite that was surprisingly farther away from the main area than you had expected.

“We will start with something small.  Do you know how to use a hammer?”

“Honestly, I don’t remember ever using one, but I think I have the main idea.”  You wanted to be honest, but also didn’t want to look dumb.

“Cool, well, take this nail, and hammer these two boards together.”  You grabbed the hammer.

“Are you going to watch me do it?”  You asked, when he folded his arms and stared at you.

“Yes.”  Was all he replied.  You just rolled your eyes and did as he asked.

“How did I do, boss?”  You said sarcastically, knowing you had done a decent job.  Afterall, it wasn’t rocket science.

“Just making sure you’re competent.”  He said, grabbing the hammer from you.

“Wow, with compliments like that you might make a girl swoon.”  You joked.  He just stared blankly at you.  “Geeze, tough crowd.”  You said lightheartedly.

“Follow me, we will work on something a little harder.”

“Sounds good.”  You said, following him.  You wanted to be his friend at the very least and you could tell you weren't off to a great start.  You would just stick to talking only when necessary.

     The rest of the morning went well, and you were proud of what you were able to do.  Lunchtime came and you walked over with the rest of the builders, minus Gally.  He continued to finish what he was working on.  You admired his work ethic.

“How did the morning go?”  Newt asked once he sat next to you.

“Not too bad, I haven’t created any major calamities yet.”  You joked and he laughed.

“I don’t think Gally likes me that much though.”  You confessed and he looked at you surprised.

“Why do you say that?”

“I think I am a nice person”  You started.

“Obviously.”

“But I don’t think my jokes or efforts to reach out are well received.”  Newt seemed to think about that.

“Why do you think that?”

“Well he just seems like he tolerates me at best, and seems like he can’t get away from me fast enough.  So I just decided to not talk so much.  Just do what I am told.”

“I think he just doesn’t know what to say.  He has always been a little awkward like that, but especially with a girl around his whole personality changes.  He isn’t a bad guy he just is rough around the edges and you are trying to break those walls down.. I don't think he knows what to do with that.”  You thought about that.

“I guess that makes sense.  I just don’t want him to not like me.”

“And why is that?”  He gave you a knowing look.

“What do you mean by that?”  You asked a little too defensively.

“It just seems like you are trying hard to be on his good side.”

“Well of course.  He is my boss for the day so I want to make a good impression.” You reasoned.

“Well I don’t think that is your problem.”

“Then what is?”  Before he could reply, you saw Gally walking up to the food line, subconsciously grabbing his shirt to wipe his face.  You were not upset by the glimpse of his abs he granted you with the action.

“You okay Y/N?  Looks like you got a little drool there.”  Minho teased you.  You turned red.

“Shut up Minho.”

“Oh someone is a little defensive,” he joked.

“It’s just because you didn’t give me the same show, so I had to look elsewhere.”  You joked.

“I know you are in love with me, I am sorry I am driving you into the arms of another man.”  He faked seriousness.  You gagged causing Newt to laugh.

“Aren’t you supposed to be in the maze?”  You asked.

“Yes, but Alby needed something today so I am here, lucky you.”

“You’re a runner right?”  He nodded.  “So run along then.”  You rolled your eyes.

“Sounds like you are annoying our Greenie here.”  Gally said behind you.  Shuck this boy was more stealthy than you would like.

“Nah, she can’t get enough of me.”  Minho joked.

“Not convincing.”  Gally said, sitting next to you.  You were not upset that he had taken to sitting next to you since you arrived.  At least that was what you let yourself think since you couldn’t be sure he didn’t always sit here before you arrived.

“More like I get too much of this guy.”  You said to Gally.  He smirked.

“Ouch, that really hurts.  And you just said you were in love with me.”

“When did I ever say that?”  You deadpanned.

“Well, when you were ogling Gally, you said it was only because - ouch!”  Newt hit him.  Your eyes went wide.  Gally turned to you.

“What is he talking about?”  A look of amusement on his face.

“Do I ever know what he is saying?”  You played off, not able to keep looking at him.

“That’s true.”  He said, not entirely convinced.

“Minho just saw you with your shirt lifted and tried to play it off as me looking and not the fact that he was checking you out himself.”  You joked.

“Well that makes more sense.  I knew Minho had less than honorable intentions towards me.”  You stopped and looked at him.

“Was that a joke?  Did I actually hear your joke?”  He gave a sheepish smile.

“I guess so.”

“Well I am glad that you are finally able to joke around me.  I thought I was annoying you with my sense of humor.”  You said half seriously.  He leaned over slightly.

“Not at all, I enjoy it actually.  I just don’t always know how to respond.  No one is as happy and lighthearted as you, it is something to get used to.”  You just looked at him.  “I don’t mean that as a bad thing”  He said quickly.  “I just am not a funny guy, not like Minho or even Newt.”  He said the last part a little bit harsher.

“You don’t have to be.  Then you wouldn’t be Gally.”  You smiled at him and he smiled back.  “Besides, I am just glad that I haven’t freaked you out.”

“Did you think you had?”  He asked.

“Well, kinda.  I mean, whenever I joke around, you just look at me like I have grown two heads so I thought you figured I was crazy.”  You played with the food on your plate, hoping to hide your nerves.

“There’s something different about you.”

“Well I am not a guy, there’s that.”  He rolled his eyes.

“Obviously.  Besides that.  You are so refreshing around here.  You are a light in the dark…”  He trailed off.

“You think so?”  You prodded, softly.

“You’re pretty great, Y/N.”  You took a moment to stare into his eyes.  He was so beautiful it hurt.

“But that can’t be a shock, everyone here likes you a lot.  A little too much”  He slightly frowned at the last part.

“I’m just glad you like me.”  He looked at you, trying to find a lie but he didn't and wouldn’t.

“Yea- yeah. You’re a good friend.”  He smiled and backed away slightly.  You tried to not be hurt.  You should just be glad at how much he opened up to you just now.  He may never feel the same, but at least you knew he didn’t hate you.  Progress.

     After lunch you went back to work, and you ended up helping some other builders while Gally got called away.  You found that though you weren’t incredibly strong, having smaller hands and being able to fit into tighter spaces helped in more ways than you thought.  However, that got you into more dangerous scenarios, like the one you found yourself in.  There was an old building that needed a plank fixed and there weren’t any ladders nearby.  So to help you were ‘volun-told’ to get up onto a 2x4 and reach awkwardly to try and fix the beam.  As long as you didn’t overreach you would be fine.  You wanted to help and show them that you could do whatever they could, if not more since you were the only one small enough to reach.  You took a deep breath and climbed up.  It wasn’t incredibly high, but if you fell, it would hurt.  You managed to stay focused, asking for the tools you would need from one of the boys behind you.  You were almost finished when you heard it.

“What the shuck is going on here?”  Uh oh.  Gally.

“She could fit, it needed to be fixed.”

“Not that way!  No one should be up there like that, especially her!”  You quickly finished and handed the tools back to whoever would quickly take them.  Gally came up under you.

“What are you doing?”  He half yelled.

“Trying to fix this beam.”  You told him as calmly as you could.

“Why are you on a flimsy board and not a ladder?  That shuck thing won’t hold you.  Get. Down. Now!”  He sounded panicked.

“It’s okay Gally, I am finished, I am getting down now.”  You tried to tell him reassuringly, but because you were distracted your foot got caught and you slipped.  You managed to stay right side up, holding onto the board. Shuck it, the only way down was to let go.  So you did.  You expected it to hurt, but you landed in some strong arms. Looking up you saw it was Gally.  You couldn’t appreciate being in his arms because his face was fuming.  If steam could come out of his ears it would.

“Are you shucking kidding me?”  He wasn’t really asking.

“Gally, I am sorry but I thought I could fix it quickly.”  

“I don’t need to hear excuses.  You should never have been up there in the first place.  On a flimsy board, not even tied down, no ladder.  What were you thinking?”

“I fixed it, I am okay, I-”  But he cut you off.

“You weren’t thinking.  Use that shuck head of yours, you could have gotten yourself killed!”

“I wouldn’t have died, Gally.  At worst, a broken arm or something, but that didn’t happen.”  You tried to remain calm but your patience was wearing thin.

“That’s because I caught you.  You need to think!  You are smarter than that.”  He said the last part no longer yelling.  It was at this moment you both realized that he was still holding you tightly.  He slightly released his grip but not enough to let you move away. “Are you hurt?”  He asked.

“No.  And the beam is fixed.”  He didn’t say anything, just kept looking at you with those beautiful eyes.  After a second, “Everything is fine.  The beam is fine, I am fine. You are fine, right?”  You asked after a second, putting your hand on his chest.  His heart was beating fast still, but he had calmed down slightly.

“You’re asking if I am alright?  After you fell?”  He asked incredulously.  You just shrugged.

“I could have hurt you, and you seemed pretty upset.  Just checking you are okay too.”  He couldn’t seem to process that.  He just nodded once.   “Okay, well I am going to let you calm down and put away my stuff.”  You pushed him back slightly and he held onto you for a second before releasing you.  It was quitting time and you wanted to be anywhere but there.  You didn’t know what just happened, but you didn't like being yelled at by Gally, especially in front of everyone after doing him a favor.

     After you walked away, Gally knew he messed up.  He was really concerned and he didn’t know where these feelings came from.  And it scared him.  But what scared him most was the idea that you could have gotten hurt.  And it would have been his fault, on his watch.  And he would never forgive himself for that.  But he yelled at you and he hated himself for it.  His feelings for you were intense and they scared him.  He just hoped he hadn’t scared you away.

[petrichor-idyllic]

Can u do Minho x reader where reader is just gawking at minhos arms and he catches her 🤭 it can be a gender neutral reader with spice ☝🏽

Alright, alright, I know, I have been very MIA, very sorry, life is a lot atm.

But this request is an easy one, so I'm tryna get through the easy ones. (Totally not cause I'm procrastinating a massive request and have fallen back into my OBX phase or anything shhh)

BEST FEATURE

MASTERLIST | MINHO MASTERLIST

SUMMARY: See above. GN! Reader x Minho. Takes place before the arrival of Thomas.

WARNINGS: Inappropriate language, you're a simp, sorry, spice.

You like to pretend that you're a level headed and controlled person. That things such as desire or general human nature don't faze you and you're focused on work and helping around the Glade.

And, for the most part - that is completely believable.

Mainly because Minho is always out in the Maze. Thank God.

Because every time you guys are in the same room, you can't take your eyes off of him. His shoulders, his back, his weirdly perfect hair, that stupid blue shirt that just clings to him in the best way- and his arms.

(Something you and a specific future Greenie and ex-WCKD member would have in common.)

His arms.

His fucking arms, man.

You just can't help yourself. He walks back into the Glade every day, sweaty and dishevelled, his blue shirt sleeves rolled up as he casually glances at you as he walks past. Sometimes, you swear he walks past you on purpose .

Newt suspects you purposely hang around the Map Room so he has to.

It's been months, and you just can't seem to force yourself to get over it. You've tried, but Minho is the hottest guy in the Glade.

You're fucked, basically.

That is no different when it comes to Bonfire night. A new Greenie pops up, every gets hammered, Gally gets in a fight, Alby looks like he's gonna have a stroke.

But it's all in good fun.

Minho doesn't normally join in the festivities. He's a very stressed individual. Sometimes, you think about attempting to convince him to join in so he can let off some steam, but you don't.

I mean, most of your thoughts are about him letting off some steam. If you get what I mean.

But, this specific night, somehow, Newt, the absolute Lord and saviour he is, has managed to convince Minho to play a game of beer pong.

Well, not beer pong, but "Gally's suspicious special brew pong" is a bit of a mouthful.

You sit at the sides with a couple of boys, watching Minho laugh along as he throws a ball (a screwed up piece of tinfoil) into a cup across the table. Cheers break out in his success, but you just stare.

Minho's arms flex under his shirt, the curve of his upper arm visible through his shirt, his forearm tenses as he goes to throw the ball agsin you swear you can see the blood pumping veins from here.

"You're drooling, mate." You're snapped back to reality as you look at Newt, who passes you a drink.

"Huh?" You catch on. "What? No - I'm not." You attempt to lie, but the heat rising through your face is a bit of a hint.

"Yeah - you are. As always."

"What? What's that supposed to mean?"

"You know what it means." You look away in respond, groaning as you rub your face with your hands.

"Shut up."

Newt snorts at this, rubbing your back with a mocking "There, there."

You want to punch him.

"Yo, (Y/N)!" You look up, heat rising in your face as Minho shouts you. "Ben just bailed on us, you wanna take his place?"

You open your mouth to speak, but your words catch in your throat, causing Newt to cringe in second hand embarrassment.

"Jesus Christ," he mumbles. "Yeah! They'd love to join." He nudges you. "Right?"

You clearly your throat. "Uh, yeah? Yeah."

Minho chuckles at this. "Come on, then."

You look at Newt again, as he nods his head to go join. Awkwardly, you stand up, walking over to join Minho's team.

"You know how to play?" He asks you.

"Uh, yeah- yeah, I know how to play." You attempt to sound confident.

"Cool - I should shuckin' hope so, you've been watching like a hawk." Oh God, he noticed. He noticed you staring. Hopefully, you can play it off as just being interested in the game.

"Y-yeah. Looked like you guys were having fun."

Please don't notice. Please don't notice. Please don't notice.

Please.

Minho's eyes flicker down you, almost like he's examining you, but also like he's drinking in your appearance, a slight smirk playing on his lips before he looks you in the eyes again. "Uh, huh."

Oh, God.

You immediately look away as another Glader passes you the ball for your turn. You miss, instantly as your body feels flushed, and then the game continues.

This goes on for quite some time.

You would think that any normal person would look away, now. I mean, Minho has noticed and Newt is undoubtedly going to bully you for it later. But, you are not that person, and you just can't help yourself.

Up close and personal, Minho looks like a God carved him out of stone. And when it's his turn, your eyes fall on his arms.

Because of course they do.

The way he rolls his sleeves up further, his muscles tensing, his veins flexing as you follow them down his forearms and down the back of his strong hands. You're seeing stars and your brain feels fuzzy.

"You good?" Minho's voice snaps you back to reality once again. Your eyes flicker to his face, his eyes narrowing as a smirk creeps across his face.

"Yep."

"You were staring."

"No, I wasn't." You say a bit too quickly, making his smirk turn into a grin.

"You sure about that? Positive you were just, checking me out?"

You blink at him, your face rising in heat.

"Yo," Clint snorts, having been also playing the game. "You were perving on Minho?" He drapes an arm over your shoulder, clearly drunk, but the implication making you more flustered.

"What? N-no. No. I wasn't."

"Mhm - I'm sure he doesn't mind." Clint snorts.

"Yeah, I don't mind." Minho agrees, grinning.

"I wasn't!" You attempt to defend yourself. "Ugh, shuck this." You grow irritated, shoving Clint's arm off. "I've had enough of this game."

You say, starting to walk away.

"What?" Minho's smile drops as he shouts after you. "We were just messing around! (Y/N)!" He huffs, dropping his head, watching you walk away. "Shuck's sake." He mumbles under his breath.

Newt, who has been watching the whole thing, stands from his seat and walks over. "Go on."

"What?" Minho asks.

"Go after them. I'll take your spot."

"Dude- why would I-?"

"Shut up, shank - you know you're just as bad."

Minho freezes at this, blinking at Newt.

Well, he's not wrong.

Minho has been listing after you for about just as long as you have him. And Newt has more social awareness skills than the both of you combined.

Minho huffs, but he turns on his heels, following after you, jogging to catch up as you make your way to the Deadheads.

"Yo! Hey! Wait up!" He says, slowing to a walk.

"Why? So, you can bully me again because you thought I was checking you out?" You snarl, mainly out of pure embarrassment.

"...But you were checking me out."

"No-"

"Yes."

"Fine! Whatever!" You throw your hands up in frustration. "I was checking you out! Big shuckin' deal! I can't help it, okay?"

Minho blinks, not expecting the sudden out burst. "Okay."

"Okay? Cool, okay? It's not my fault that you're hot, okay? A-and it's not fair that you look that good! All the time! Like, how is that fair? And how the fuck is your hair always flawless? You run for miles everyday - and somehow, you look like you've escaped Vogue! And your arms... how am I meant to even pretend to cope, you prick?"

Minho blankly stands there. "You done?"

You blink at him. "Yeah, I think so."

Minho slowly nods, stepping towards you as you both stand near the edge of the Deadheads, the drama of the Bonfire a now distant memory as he stands in front of you. He's so close and tall and generally intimidating in a way you shouldn't find attractive.

"So, you like my arms, then?" Minho acts, clearly enjoying the not needed ego boost. All you can do is blankly look at him.

What the hell is happening here?

"Do you?" You nod in response, slowly and unsure. "Okay, you can touch them, if you want?"

Your brain has melted and burnt. "...What?"

Minho huffs, simply grabbing your hand and putting it on his arm. You eyelids flutter, swapping between his face and his arm. "Don't be scared." He murmers.

Slowly, you drag your fingers down the fabric of his sun faded blue button up over his bicep, feeling the muscle and the curves of his left arm, tracing delicate shapes over the material. You move further down, passing the threshold where the fabric stops and the bare skin of his forearm starts.

To your surprise, Minho's breath hitches slightly at the contact. This is the first time you've ever touched him, and even he didn't expect the feeling to send chills down his spine and goosebumps dance on his skin. Your palm contacts with his forearm, rubbing down to his hand, feeling the visible veins as he creeps closer to you.

Your eyes go from his arm to his face, flickering to his lips as he stands directly in front of you. He becomes bold, raising his arm, your hand still loosely around his wrist as he touches your cheek. Slowly, he closes the gap.

Your chest feels like it's about to explode as his lips comnect with yours. He breaks the kiss, trying to figure out your reaction, but when you kiss him again, he takes the hint.

He's slightly taken aback from the passion and the heat, humming against your lips unintentionally as he kisses back. You're letting out the months of tension you've been feeling, your hands coming around his shoulders, feeling the muscles and caressing the tops of his arms as he backs you into a tree.

You gasp, your back hitting the back as he pushes his body against, his hands grasping at your sides. It seems that the kiss gave him all the answers he needed. His hands move down before slipping under your shirt and brushing at your bare skin - almost like he's becoming desperate for direct contact.

Pushing yourself forward, you can already feel Minho through his trousers, the kiss already getting him worked up.

For a second, you genuinely consider just letting him take you then and there when Newt clears his throat.

You both snap in the direction of the blond boy. Minho's chest rises and falls as you look away, using Minho's shoulder to hide yourself from your friend.

"As much as I hate to interrupt - but let's be real, this has been a long time coming, the others want you back at the game because apparently I have klunky aim." Newt shoves his hands in his pockets, casually rocking on his heels.

"Are you serious, right now?" Minho asks as you pant into his shoulder, clearly able to maintain his composure better than you.

"Yeah." Newt responds. "And I don't think Alby will be happy if he finds his favourite Runner fooling around in public."

Minho looks at him, before dropping his head. "Alright, give me a second."

"What? Need a moment to calm down?" Newt teases.

"Shut your shank mouth."

Even you can't help but chuckle at this as Minho starts to grin before sighing and stepping back. "I'll uh, I'll catch you later, maybe?"

A half-smile creeps across your face and you nod, your heart banging against your ribcage. "Yeah - yeah, sounds good."

"Good that." He slowly steps back, smiling at you as he walks over to Newt.

"You good?" Newt snickers at his friend. "Sure you can walk straight so lightheaded? I mean, lack of blood to the brain is a bad thing. Especially when-"

"Shut the shuck up, Newt."

Ahhhh I'm back. Kinda.

Don't bet on it.

But anyway, I've actually written something for the first time in weeks.

Hope y'all enjoy :))

[that-girl-glader]

I'VE INVENTED A GAME JUST NOW (I'm Hella burnt out and physically exhausted and should be studying and doing hw)

basically it's guess that fanfiction. I say a fanfic for a fandom, and y'all have to find the title and everything . Ao3 fanfics btw!! And the ship of the day is *drum roll* NEWTMAS. Don't read if you're scared of getting NEWTMAS fanfic spoilers (I feel like this is a fun way to make you worms read people's amazing fics!!!!)

Basically right. Thomas goes to a family house, and somehow he ends up hearing a story about some guy who used to live in that house named "Newt" who mysteriously disappeared in the past. Like the 1800s or something. And HE somehow ends up time travelling to the past where he meets Newt. And damn. They fall hard. Thomas shows Newt music that is spacey, and kidnaps him to the future. And sigh....is that....how he??? disappeared. OMSTARSSS. MAYBE SO.

Disclaimer: I read this fic a LONG TIME AGO SO I DON'T REMEMBER ALL THE DETAILS. So not everything I said was EXACT. But it's close enough that you will find it, I promise.

Click this link if you care about Gaza and being a beautiful soul nerd:

[bruh--wtf]

*forgot to say on my last request but can it be a tmr fanfic, I don’t mind what character but I’d love either frypan or Newt? :)

Not a Joke

Newt x Reader

Main Masterlist

Summary: Newt and the reader finally clarify that the flirts were never jokes.

Maze Runner Masterlist

2: “You ramble, I find it adorable”

24: "How about we start off slow. Can I hold your hand?"

Requests are Open for all characters

@ecstacyx

*Sorry it took so long to answer this request!*

“Newt!” You exclaim, running into the gardens. Newt looks up instantly, slightly alarmed by the way you came up to him. You were still in your running gear and grinned at him as you came to a stop.

“I went into that new section to day with Minho! It was so cool! There were these thin metal wall thingys, and-”

“Are you supposed to be telling me any of this?” He asks, raising an eyebrow. You wave him off, smiling still.

“I tell you everything I’m not supposed to. I expect the same in return,” you say, giving him a pointed look. Newt just chuckles and nods, picking up the basket he had in front of him before he started walking. You walk in step with him. “Anyways, I think we’re figuring out the pattern more and more every day. Like this part is new, but it’s similar to a lot of the old ones. I think we’re getting closer!” You exclaim, shaking his arm a little bit. Newt just smiles at you and you go back to talking, which is usually how your dynamic works.

“What would you do first when we get out?” You ask. You swing your arms a little as you walk. Newt just starts transferring the crops into their designated areas. “I think I want to have something to eat. I love Frypan, but I wanna try something that isn’t one of our designated three meals,” you say. Newt chuckles at that and nods. “What about you, Newt?”

He just shrugs and you sigh, thinking of going to shake him a little on the shoulders, but think better of lifting your arms. You need to wash up. As soon as possible. Newt raises an eyebrow at you and you sigh again. “I need a shower.” Then you smirk at him. “Wanna join?” Newt blushes as he always does when you flirt with him. You chuckle a little again. “We could start off slow… Can I hold your hand?” you say, reaching out so he can grab you hand. Newt looks at you for a second, his blush deepening.

“Maybe later, Y/N.” You frown a little as he steps away and you drop your hand. “I’ll see you at dinner.” He walks away. A second later, Frypan walks up to you and dusts off his hands.

“You’re so mean,” he says. You give him a confused look.

“What do you mean?”

“He’s so into you and you keep messing with him!” Frypan exclaims. You blink at him.

“I wasn’t messing with him,” you say. Did Newt think you were just messing with him? Oh no, you hoped he didn’t think that.

“Doesn’t seem like it,” Fry says before walking away. You frown, and look over at where Newt was still walking.

You just decide to go shower before dinner. You sit next to Newt when you get to the tables. He gives you a small smile and you start talking to Minho across the table. You decide to grab Newt’s hand under the table about halfway through the meal. He tenses up next to you, a soft blush on his cheeks. You don’t say anything about it, though, and neither does he.

After dinner, you got up and Newt looked at you. “Uh, Y/N?” You look at him and raise an eyebrow.

“Yeah?”

“Can I talk to you for a minute?” He asks. You nod and sit back down, your legs on the opposite side of the bench as his.

“What’s up?” You ask. He just stares at you for a moment before clearing his throat.

“Why’d you do that during dinner?” He asks. Your eyes crease a little, confused.

“What do you mean?” He clears his throat again and glances around. He lowers his voice like he doesn’t want any of the others to hear.

“You grabbed my hand.”

“I held your hand, Newt. And you didn’t pull away.” You cross your arms and give him a pointed look.

He gives you a sharp look back. “Why on earth would I pull away from you?” He asks sharply. You raise an eyebrow at him.

“I don’t know what’s going on in your head,” you say, making him visibly confused. “First you act like you’re uncomfortable because I held your hand, and that’s fine I won’t do it. But then you say something like that. I flirt with you and you never flirt back, but you don’t tell me to stop either.”

“Y/N,” he says, trying to cut you off but you keep talking.

“Sometimes I can’t tell if you like me or not.” He sighs like he’s going to say something, but you continue. “I don’t know what you want me to do Newt, because if you don’t like me just tell me. I won’t keep making a fool of myself if you don’t want me,” you say. You pause, out of breath and Newt just stares at you for a second. His eyes were wide and wandering over your face. “What?”

“You. You ramble, it’s adorable,” he says. Your eyes widen a little and he raises an eyebrow. “I think this is the first time you haven’t had something to say,” he says. You blush a little, looking down at the table. Newt reaches over and places his hand on yours.

“I could never tell if you were serious or not,” he admits. “I wasn’t about to make a fool of myself by flirting back with someone I like just for a bit.” You frown a little.

“I was never joking,” you say. He smiles a little and nods.

“I see that now.” He makes a point to officially hold your hand in his. “I’ll hold your hand now.”