#The maze runner Minho

[heliads]

want you, need you - minho

Ever since you became a Med-Jack, Minho can't seem to stop collecting random injuries that absolutely require your attention. You might be catching on.

masterlist

The Med-Jack hut is either overwhelmingly busy or frustratingly slow, no in between. There are days when every single room in the place is crammed full of patients– somehow, every Slicer manages to cut themselves, and every Builder breaks a bone– and you wish you had picked any other job than this one. The busy days are rough. You start wondering what might happen if you stopped being able to put people back together as quickly as they fall apart. You think about the endless cycle of injury and healing until everyone wears out entirely, a map of bandages and skin pressed thin like dead leaves.

Those are the hopeless days. Then, you’ll have a dry spell, when everyone manages to get their stuff together and no one complains of sprained ankles or excessive sunburns. At that point, you start twiddling your thumbs and mindlessly organizing and reorganizing the medical supplies. By the end, you almost start wishing people would get hurt just so you’d have something to do. It’s an uncharitable thought, certainly, and one you regret once you’re stuck in the middle of another hurricane of aching Gladers, but when there’s nothing else to do, it comes nonetheless.

You’ve found yourself in the middle of another boring week. For the past few days, the Slicers have remembered how to hold their knives so they chop the animals and not themselves, the Builders hit their nails with their hammers instead of their thumbs, and the Runners don’t give themselves cramps and stay in perfect health.

Well. Not every Runner.

Even during the most boring stretches of your admittedly short career as a Med-Jack, you can guarantee that you’ll have one specific patient. Just like clockwork, every few days a certain dark-haired, teasing someone shadows your door, complaining of overworked tendons, pulled hamstrings, heatstroke, and every other medical condition under the sun. If Minho can think it up, he’ll say he’s got it.

It’s honestly becoming ridiculous. For someone who’s such a capable Runner, it is truly remarkable that he survives so many ailments. One would think he would give up running entirely if it gave him this much grief. Yet every day, Minho sets out for the Maze with a cheerful disposition, and at least two times a week, he appears in the Med-Jack hut, sporting some new injury that materialized at some point during the day.

So, when you look up from labeling the medicine cabinet for what must be the dozenth time this month, and realize that you haven’t seen the Keeper of the Runners in a few days, you know that it’s about time for him to come down with the flu, a severe migraine, or maybe both at once.

True to form, you’ve barely finished going through the medications on one shelf of the cabinet when Jeff, one of your fellow Med-Jacks, comes into the room. “You have a patient,” he says impatiently. “Guess who?”

You roll your eyes, although you can’t help a small smile. “Can’t you handle Minho yourself?”

Jeff gives you a look. “I tried. He told me he wanted to wait for a professional. Figures.”

You snort. “You’ve been here longer than I have.”

“I told him that,” Jeff complains. “This might surprise you, but he didn’t care.”

“Tell him again,” you say, turning back to the pill bottle you’re labeling. “I’m busy.”

Jeff heaves a dramatic sigh. “I’m not wasting my time with that. He’s your problem, go fix him.”

You shoot him a confused glance. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know exactly what it means,” Jeff retorts, reaching over to grab the bottle out of your hands. “Ever since you started here, Minho randomly comes over all the time. You know he used to hate visiting the Med-Jacks before you arrived? Now he can’t stop showing up.”

“That doesn’t mean anything,” you protest weakly.

Jeff sighs again, so deeply you swat him on the shoulder. “That’s klunk and we both know it. The data doesn’t lie, Y/N.”

“There’s no data,” you argue, but Jeff’s already waving you out of the room. 

You make a face at him, then go down the hall until you find Minho waiting in one of the smaller rooms meant for patients. He’s poking at some supplies on a small table in a corner of the room, but he straightens up excitedly when he sees you.

“Doc! I’m so glad you’re here.”

You fight the urge to roll your eyes. “What have you done to yourself now, Minho?”

“That’s no way to treat a patient,” Minho frowns exaggeratedly. “Whatever happened to bedside manner?”

“You got bedside manner the first ten times you showed up for no reason,” you tell him pointedly. “After that, you get whatever I feel like. You should be happy I’m still giving you bandages. We only have so many, you know that? Maybe I’ll start charging you a fee.”

“I can pay,” Minho says lazily, leaning forward so you can feel his breath hot on the side of your face. One of his hands starts to curl around your side, pulling you closer to him.

Dangerous, he is. You idly push him away with your palm, pretending to examine the supplies he’d been poking at earlier so you have time for the heat to leave your face. “How about you just tell me what’s wrong with you this time?”

Minho sighs dramatically. “Well, since you care so much, I’ll have to tell you that I’ve broken an ankle. It hurts so bad. This might be it for me, Y/N.”

You arch a brow. “Which ankle?”

He pauses a moment, thinking. “Left.”

“You’re standing on it just fine right now,” you point out.

Immediately, Minho shifts all of his weight onto his right leg, grabbing the back of a nearby chair for support. “No, I’m not. Look, I can’t bear the pain. It hurts.”

You just look at him. Minho looks back at you, unable to stop the corners of his lips from curling up into a proud half-smile. “Do you really expect me to believe that?” You ask.

He gasps. “Y/N. Are you trying to discredit your own patients? Some Med-Jack you are. I bet Clint would trust me.”

“Then go talk to Clint,” you say, making for the door.

Minho hurries over, flinging out an arm to close the door before you can open it. “Wait, wait. I didn’t mean it, sweetheart. You’re the only Med-Jack for me, I swear it. Clint is nothing to me.”

You take an obvious glance towards his feet. “That ankle sure seems to be healing fast, huh? You moved over here like it was nothing.”

Minho leans his back against the door. “Alright, you got me. Nothing’s wrong with the ankle. Still, my lungs have been feeling exhausted lately, that might be something–”

“That’s because you run everywhere,” you say, grinning in spite of yourself at his antics. “Come on, Minho, you’ll have to get a better excuse someday.”

“My bad for wanting to see you,” he returns. “I feel like I haven’t talked to you in forever. I miss you,” he adds a little quietly.

It makes you smile in earnest this time. “So you’re here to be a good friend, then.”

“Yeah,” Minho says, and you might be kidding yourself but you swear he sounds almost disappointed, “A good friend. That’s me.”

You tap him gently on the arm to get him to move from the door. “How about I promise to find you straight after my shift ends, and you agree to leave without using any more of my medical supplies? Jeff’s going to kill you if we run through anymore bandages, I swear it.”

Minho pretends to think this over. “Straight after? You promise?”

“I promise,” you repeat. “So? Do we have a deal?”

“We do,” he intones solemnly, and at last lets you open the door and usher him out, but only after extracting one more promise that you won’t delay to talk to Newt or anyone else once Jeff lets you out.

When you get back to the storage room, you find Jeff waiting for you, grinning knowingly from ear to ear. It bothers you for some reason, not the fact that he’s on this topic again but worse, the thought that he might not be entirely wrong for it.

“Wipe that look off your face,” you mutter.

Jeff’s grin just broadens. “How was your star patient?”

“Fantastic,” you assure him, “And I’d be fantastic too, if you could stop bothering me with whatever weird thing you’re thinking about right now.”

Jeff shrugs exaggeratedly. “Of course. I don’t know why anyone would think about Minho being unable to go three days without talking to you. That would be crazy.”

“It would be,” you add darkly. People in the Glade have said that you have a tendency for killer death stares. However, Jeff seems to be impervious to it, because he just keeps sitting there, proud as anything, as if he were in the right about this.

As if. This isn’t the first time your friends have tried to suggest there’s something going on between you and Minho, and the honest truth is that nothing has happened at all. Yeah, Minho’s your best friend, and yeah, your days are significantly better when you see as much of him as possible. What about it? It doesn’t mean a thing. Life is hard. If you want to talk to the boy who makes you laugh like no one else, you should be able to do it in peace.

You can’t deny that the rumors stay on your mind, and recently, you haven’t been able to deny them with as much conviction as usual. You’re not blind, Minho is good-looking, and maybe you start thinking about something past friendship when he makes another excuse to get in your personal space when you’re sitting together by the fire or walking through the Glade. 

You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t thought about it before, but as good as it might be to have Minho in every way that matters, you’ll still be perfectly happy with just the one. You can’t risk your friendship, even if, two drinks of Gally’s brew into a Bonfire Night, you start thinking about what it would be like to kiss him, or worse still, when Minho drops by the Med-Jack hut again, you convince yourself that maybe he’s not just doing it because he’s a good friend but because he wants you just like you want him.

It can’t be, though. For one thing, Minho is notoriously confident. If he liked you, he would have told you by now. You’ve seen him argue with Gally for the fun of it, not to mention the fact that he chose to be a Runner of all things. Minho lives on a constant adrenaline rush. Compared to what he does on a daily basis, confessing his feelings has to be nothing major. If he wanted to tell you, he would, and he hasn’t, so obviously there isn’t anything to tell at all.

For another, and this might just be in your own head, but Minho is so brave and capable that he seems to eclipse everything around him. Maybe it’s just the force of your own perspective, but you swear the entire Glade orbits around him. When he gets back from a run, he’s immediately swarmed by Gladers asking him about how it was, if he saw anything important. He’s always the first person people talk to, the immediate choice for a dinnertime companion. Minho could have anything he wanted in the Glade. So why would he want you?

You’ve managed to force the whole thing from your mind as best you can. Minho is your friend. At least you can have him like that, even if it kills you sometimes to look at him and imagine all the ways you would love him if he would just give you the chance. Any good medic can keep their feelings internal when they need it, and you’re the best there is.

You meet Minho later that night as promised, and you do your utmost to pretend everything is normal. You stay with him until the sun sinks below the horizon, until the Doors slam shut, until the moon begins its familiar path across the sky. You talk the whole while, idle chatter that occasionally drifts off into comfortable quiet. You’ve never been able to do that with anyone before, feel so at ease that you can stay silent for minutes at a time and have it not be awkward, but with Minho, it’s so simple. Then again, you can hardly remember anyone at all. Maybe there was someone in the past who mattered to you just as much as Minho does now. Even without your memories, though, that feels impossible. Minho could have no substitute, not to you.

You’re expecting the next day to pass in a breeze of idle hours, but around midafternoon, your dreary day of organization and the occasional bad paper cut is harshly interrupted by the sound of chaos outside. There’s shouting for a Med-Jack, and then several people are rushing someone in. It’s a Runner, apparently, you hear the details as you run for supplies. The Maze started moving during the day and he got hurt.

You can tell from the way people start nervously looking at you that it’s bad. At first, they don’t say any names, but then you burst into the chamber that serves as your operating room and you know that it’s worse than you could have possibly imagined, for not only does it seem like there’s enough blood to drench the Glade, but the victim isn’t Ben or one of the other Runners, it’s Minho. Your Minho. Your Minho, bleeding out on your table, who will need you to save him.

You stand there for one fragile moment, drenched in horror, then spring into action. Clint and Jeff have surfaced by now, and you direct them to anesthetize Minho. You want him to feel as little of this as possible. After carefully cutting open his shirt to determine the source of all that awful blood, you determine that it’s not as bad as you thought, more of a broad surface wound than a deep puncture. That much blood loss is dangerous, though, and he’ll need several stitches to close the flesh.

About an hour and a half later, you’re done. You and the other Med-Jacks lean back, panting heavily. Your hands and clothes are smeared with red, but color has crept back into Minho’s cheeks, and he’s starting to breathe evenly again.

“How long until he wakes up?” You ask Clint.

He checks a nearby clock, then Minho’s pulse. “Fifteen minutes, probably, but he won’t be fully conscious for up to an hour.”

You nod. “That’s good. Clear out, you guys. Get some rest.”

Jeff stops by you on the way out. “You can stay with him if you want. He’d be glad to see you when he wakes up.”

You let out a slow breath. “Thanks, Jeff.”

He pats you on the back then leaves to wash up. You spare the time to scrub your hands and get on a fresh change of clothes, but head back to Minho as soon as you can. Ben was with him when the accident happened, he said that everything happened so fast he hardly knew what went down. You don’t want Minho to wake up alone and confused, covered in bandages and unable to shake the scent of blood.

Once the immediate danger is over, you’re left sitting in a chair by Minho’s cot. His chest is swathed in bandages, but no red has flowered through them yet, which is a good sign. As you watch, the fingers on his right hand start to twitch. Clint said he would start to stir around now, and you’re glad to see the signs of movement. Watching him there– so still, so motionless– it made you wonder if he would wake up. It made you wonder if there was any way you could survive if he didn’t.

Minho is starting to make small sounds of distress under his breath, so you lean over and take his hand, squeezing it carefully but comfortingly. “Hey, hey. It’s me. You’re safe.”

You hear the ghost of your name in his whisper, and then Minho starts to quiet down again, restless rustles turning back into quiet breathing. You check his heart rate with your free hand and are glad to see it returning to normal, shaking off the lethargy of the anesthesia.

Minho sleeps for a little longer. Afraid to upset him, you keep your hand in his. You can tell when he wakes again, because his fingers start to press against yours. Consciousness comes upon him like a wave beating upon the shore. All of a sudden, his eyes are blinking open, and then he’s trying to sit up too fast and is forced back down to the cot by a bout of dizziness.

“Easy,” you tell him, pressing him back. “Don’t try to sit yet. The meds aren’t out of your system.”

“Y/N?” Minho asks, voice hoarse.

Hearing the scratchiness of his voice, so totally removed from the usual confident cadence of his words, makes your throat close up. “Yeah, it’s me. I’m here.”

“Hey, Doc,” he says roughly. “Jeff won’t give me klunk about the bandages now, will he?”

“No, he won’t,” you say, torn between laughter and outright sobs. “How do you feel? Any pain?”

“All good,” Minho tells you. “What about Ben? Is he okay?”

“Ben is fine,” you assure him. “You’re the one we’re worried about, Minho. I knew the Maze was dangerous, but like this–”

He cuts you off, squeezing your hand. “Hey, all in a day’s work. I knew the risks when I went in.”

You shake your head, hot tears starting to well up in your eyes. “No, no. This isn’t fair. You’re not supposed to get hurt during the day. Minho, I didn’t even know anything happened, and then they brought you in, and there was so much blood– I thought I was going to lose you, and I didn’t even get to tell you–”

Even in the midst of your tears, you have the presence of mind to stop yourself before you give yourself away. It’s just– the thought had not abandoned you the whole time he slept, even the whole time you operated, that you could lose him without ever having him at all.

Minho shakes his head as best he can. “I’m okay, sweetheart. I’m okay.”

“But you almost weren’t,” you whisper. “What if Ben hadn’t been able to get you back in time?”

You take a ragged breath, trying to keep the tears at bay, but it’s no use. Your shoulders shake, and Minho leans up slightly, as if drawn to it. To you.

“You’re pretty even when you cry,” Minho says, one hand weakly rising up to brush a tear from your cheek. “How is that fair?”

You laugh haltingly, in between the tears. “Barely awake five minutes, and you’re already flirting.”

He grins. “It’s all I want to do.”

If this were any other day, you would be able to brush off that comment, but something about this moment, this space– no one else in the room, Minho’s palm still tenderly cradling your cheek, your heart still erratic from the stress– you can’t help but turn the words over and over in your mind. All I want to do. All I want to do.

“Minho–” You start.

“Shh,” he says. “You already know that. Don’t tell me you haven’t seen through it. My smart girl. All those times I came to see you. Don’t say you haven’t realized.”

“Minho–”

“Newt says I’m being stupid. That I shouldn’t keep trying to have something that isn’t mine. But I’ll tell you something, Y/N, I’m selfish, and I’m greedy. I want you, and I don’t want to think about you with anyone else but me.”

Your breath is harsh in your chest, heart beating so loud you’re certain they must hear it echoing all across the Glade.

Minho’s eyes are fixed directly on yours. He sits up carefully, enough to reach his other hand up past your waist to the small of your back. “Tell me you don’t want me, or I’m not going to stop trying to keep you. Tell me to stop.”

Your lips part as you try to form an answer. Minho’s eyes dart down to the movement, and they only rise to your gaze with great reluctance. “I don’t want you to stop,” you tell him at last. “I want you, Minho. Only you.”

Two years now, you’ve known Minho. You’ve seen him proud and defiant, laughing and joyous and as happy as anyone could hope to be. Still, you don’t think you’ve ever seen him smile as brightly as he does right now, right before he kisses you.

Every touch is electric, and this is the most powerful of all. Your mind is reeling from the moment your lips meet, sending you far beyond the reaches of the Maze to the sky itself. You could be floating forever if you wanted, and you only start to gradually come back to earth when he slowly breaks away.

“Minho,” you say, hesitating over every syllable.

“Y/N,” he mimics, lips turned up in an irrepressible smile.

“They’re going to want to know that you’re awake. I promised I’d get the others,” you tell him.

He considers this for a moment. “They don’t need to know immediately, do they?”

You smile. “No.”

Minho’s eyes glint. “Then kiss me again. You can tell them after.”

It seems like a fair deal to you. You kiss him to make sure of it.

maze runner tag list: @blondsauduun, @ellobruv, @retvenkos, @neewtmas, @mayfieldss,

@hiya-itsamber, @gods-fools-heroes, @hope92100, @23victoria, @w1shes43, @imwaysthelastchoice, @fadedver, @il0vebeingdelulu

all tags list:

@wordsarelife

[m30wk1ttycat]

arguing with minho (in a relationship, ofc) would be chaotic. like, so chaotic. one second you're telling eachother how much you hate them, the next second you're making out after he misheard when you asked if you could make up. like, please?

"i hate you," you continue, "i really, really do."

minho taking a few steps forward, asks, "do you?" faces only a few inches apart, you glare at him, though not for long, because you could never be truly mad at him. not because of such a stupid thing. over a slice of frypan's strawberry pie that your boyfriend decided to eat off of your plate when you weren't looking. "no," you blurt out, "not really."

"why are we arguing, then?" "let's make up, then," you suggest. seeing minho's lips curve up ever so slightly got you feeling a bit confused. but when he crashed his lips against yours, you didn't pull away, only kissed back, letting him push you against the nearby wall made of sticks and wood. pulling away, you mumble, "i said make up, not make out." "must've misheard you, then." but his smirk was not lost on you. he sure as hell didn't mishear your words.

[ihavedeseal]

"Minho whooped a cheer and Newt gave a bored thumbs-up" -Fever Code(78)

[xnewtiebooty]

Wanted to join in and try my hand at some of these :)

[eddies-guitar13]

Thomas: *laughs* Newt and I don't have pet names for each other, we're cool.

Minho: ...yeah sure,whatever you say,... hey Thomas?

Thomas: yeah?

Minho: what do bees make?

Thomas:..honey?

Newt: *yelling from the distance* Yeah, love?

Thomas: ....

Minho:

[restinslices]

Are you normal or do you think about how heartbroken Minho must've been when he was told Newt was dead?

In the books we never see his reaction and I can't help but wonder how Minho reacted when he was told his closest friend was dead and he couldn't even get a proper goodbye.

Did Minho refuse to believe it? Did he yell at Brenda, demanding for her to stop lying and take him to Newt? Did he yell at Teresa and blame her? Did he wanna see Thomas, needing to hear him say it?

Or maybe he was quiet. Maybe he sat in the corner by himself, thinking about how scared Newt must've been as the disease continued taking him. Maybe he sat there, trying his best not to cry. Maybe Frypan, another person who knew Newt for years, sat next to Minho and silently mourned with him.

I'm very curious as to how he reacted.

[scorchedmazes]

[bad268]

It's Always Been Minho Pt. 2 (TMR Minho X Reader)

Fandom: The Maze Runner

Requested: Yeah, i saw yall asking for part 2 so here it is (thanks @dearestwonderland for the idea! I strayed a bit (a lot) but I left it open for a potential part 3)

Warnings: WICKED

POV: First POV (I/me/she/her)

W.C. 2305

Summary: They survived, but at what cost?

As always, my requests are OPEN

MASTERLIST // HITLIST

<- Part 1

~~(^Google/Wiki fandom)

I couldn’t see. The sun was blaring down more than it ever did in the maze, and the rays reflected off of the never-ending sight of sand. This was nothing like the glade.

The glade was safe to me. Sure, I was running into the maze every other day and nearly killing myself, but other than that, there weren’t random things out to get me. There weren’t natural elements or random people with the flare after me. Out here, it was brutal.

It was also very awkward. I could tell that the boys felt it too. Maybe it was the feelings Minho and I had not talked about. Maybe it was how Teresa really was not a trustworthy person. Maybe it was because we were spending our days walking through sand and could die at any point. 

We had not even been out of the WICKED facility for longer than a few days but it felt like had been at least a month. All of the days blurred together. Every day was just sand, walking, wind, walking, sand. One day, we finally saw something promising; a city. That was when we finally got a moment to regain our barrings.

I finally had a moment to myself. I was sitting and hiding in a corner of the room we had barricaded ourselves in, and I just wanted to enjoy the solitude after having no breaks. At one point I leaned against the wall and dosed off.  I must have been out for a few hours because when I woke up, the sun was gone and everyone else was asleep. 

Everyone except Minho.

He was standing by a metal trashcan that was lit on fire, trying to stay warm. I walked over to stand beside him, cold as well. It did not take him long to detect the very noticeable shiver I made every once in a while, so he moved his arm around my shoulder and pulled me into his side.

“I think it’s time we talk,” I whispered, leaning into his side, but not looking at him. “We haven’t had the chance, but there’s no one to interrupt us now.”

“I like where this is heading,” He smirked, tightening his hold. I immediately scoffed, pushing his arm off of me, and turned to glare at him. “What? It’s a joke!”

“Not everything needs to be sexual,” I answered annoyed as I rolled my eyes. 

“I’m just acting like I did before the maze,” He admitted, “I always made those kinds of jokes with you, and you loved them.”

“Well, newsflash Minho! Not everyone remembers life before the maze!” I pointed out as I shook my head in disbelief. “Pre-maze me may have loved that, but pre-maze me also didn’t have to endure all the sexist comments of the guys around her. Forgive me for not finding a sexual joke funny after being ridiculed for my gender for three years straight.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize-” he tried to start, but I cut him off.

“No! You don’t realize!” I nearly shouted. “Minho, you were the worst of them all! You think that suddenly you remember that we were in a relationship makes it all okay, but it doesn’t! I will always remember the things you said to me, and no amount of apologies will fix that. Nothing will bring me back to the girl you remember because, to me, she never existed.”

He was speechless for a moment, absorbing everything I just said. In the midst of my rant, neither of us saw Thomas, Newt, and Teresa wake up, and move closer to see what was going on. After a few beats, he finally said, “I understand that you don’t remember, and I’m sorry I treat you like you should. I just thought that since you saved me in the maze, it meant you felt something toward me, so I took that as a green light.”

“Minho,” I shook my head disappointedly, “not every kind gesture a girl does for you means that they like you. From this point forward, I’m going on my own. Hopefully, I’ll see you in the safe haven, and if not, we’ll die trying.”

I did not give any of them the chance to respond as I turned and walked out of the building. Despite their protests, I kept walking, and I did not turn back. I found an abandoned shack not too far from the original building which was great because I heard the distinct groaning of the cranks nearby. 

The next day, I was up bright and early. I did not want to waste any time in building a distance between me and Minho. That was the last thing I needed. After walking for a few days straight, I found another city. This one looked like people still lived in it. I went up to the gates and knocked.

It took a while, but eventually, a guard came to the door, holding a gun pointed at me. I threw my hands up in surrender. “Please, I’m unarmed!”

“State your business,” he said.

“I’m immune, and I’m trying to find anyone. I’ve been on my own,” I explained quickly. He dropped his gun, not entirely but enough to make me feel less threatened. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet. Who are you?” I told him my name and he nodded and allowed me to enter. “I have to take you to the leaders.”

“Leaders? What is this? A monarch?” I joked, and I received a small smile from the guard.

“No, just the people that keep us from killing each other,” He explained as we walked into one of the bigger buildings. Inside there was not much. A few beds, some stocked up food, and some blankets. He pointed to a couple of crates stacked to look like a chair before saying, “Stay here.”

I sat down and just caught my breath. That’s when it all hit me. Sure, I left the only friends I knew on my own accord, but that did not make it hurt any less. I missed Thomas. I missed Newt. Hell, I missed Minho. I will never admit to missing Teresa though. I still had the nagging feeling that she was a traitor. I did not have to wait too long for the leaders to come into the open space, and when they did, my jaw dropped. 

“Gally?”

“No way, you’re the single trying to join us,” Gally muttered to himself mostly.

“I left the group,” I admitted, knowing he probably thought they died during the journey. “I could not stand to be in Minho’s presence, and I had a bad feeling about Teresa.”

“You and me both, honestly,” He chuckled, and that was the first time I actually laughed with him. “You can stay,” I directed at me before turning to the other leaders and guards around them, “I want her with me at all times. She’s tough. Don’t underestimate her, am I clear?”

That was the day I became one of the guards. I patrolled the premises with Gally every day, talking shit and having fun. Yes, we were constantly running for our lives, but that did not mean we could not have fun too. 

Days turned into weeks. Weeks turned into months. All of it blurred together until one night there was a horrible storm. It was the first time it ever rained that I could remember. Granted, it never rained in the glade, so it did feel like it was the first time.

I decided to sit under a covering but still outside, watching in awe of the weather. Eventually, Gally sat beside me, and we sat in silence for a while just enjoying the rain. 

“Are you ever gonna tell me the real reason you split?” Gally broke the silence as he looked over at me. “I know you wouldn’t have left Thomas or Newt unless the circumstances pushed you to it. And you don’t have to tell me! It’s just-“

“He wants me to forget everything that happened,” I muttered, stopping him short. “Minho wants to pick up where we were before the Glade, but I don’t have a memory before the Glade. Plus, he wants me to completely disregard everything he said in the Glade. All the sexist comments, I can’t look past those.”

“Speaking of that, I’m sorry for how I acted in there too,” he apologized. “It was weird having a girl in there, and I got defensive.”

“You’re fine, Gally,” I dismissed immediately. “You stopped after a few months, but this guys kept at it for all three years. That’s three years of me being torn down over and over. That shit hurt, and I don’t think I can just look past that.”

“Maybe, give it time. This time away from him could help you sort yourself out. Think how you really feel about him, if you could ever see yourself with him, and what he would have to do to regain your trust,” Gally consoled. Silence fell between us once again as I started thinking about what Gally said. Could I see myself with him after everything? Maybe. Is that toxic? Yes, but he’ll work for it. My thoughts got interrupted by Gally chuckling, causing me to look over at him questionably. “Nothing, I can just see the gears turning. You can see yourself with him, but you’re upset that he did all this to you.”

“Are you sure you weren’t a therapist or something?” I laughed, lightly punching his shoulder. “But yes. I could see myself with him eventually.”

“Then sleep on it, and maybe we’ll try to find them tomorrow,” Gally suggested as he stood up. He held out a hand for me, which I took as I stood in front of him.

“Deal, I’ll see you in the morning.”

~

The morning was hell. Early that morning, after it stopped raining but before the sun was out, a group was frantically banging on the gate. Unfortunately, Gally and I were the only ones still awake, so we went to check it out.

The last people I expected to see were Newt and Thomas. I immediately noticed that Minho was missing, Thomas looked scared, and Newt had black veins. I knew he had the flare, so I stepped back, providing backup and Gally questioned them while Newt and Thomas just looked at us in awe.

“We thought you both died,” Thomas said, disregarding the entire shpeel that Gally said. “Never thought we’d see you guys again.”

“Well contrary to popular belief, I can take care of myself,” I piped up, moving to stand beside Gally rather than behind him. “Speak of the devil, where is he?”

“That’s why we need your help,” Newt spoke up. He sounded broken like the flare was destroying him from the inside out (spoiler: it was). “He was taken by WICKED, and you were right about Teresa. She was giving WICKED our location the entire time.”

“Maybe next time believe a girl’s intuition,” I replied sarcastically. “And what do you mean ‘taken by WICKED’?”

“During the storm, we found a shack and hid out in it, but Teresa must have known about it because WICKED soldiers were already there,” Thomas explained before looking down. “They ambushed us and took Minho while we all ran.”

“What happened to no man left behind?” Gally exclaimed, reciting the first rule for the runners. One that he knew well since he was such close friends with Ben. “Did any of you fight for him?”

“We did but we can’t really do much against guns,” Newt deadpanned. “That’s why we need your help. You guys have guns, cars, and a helicopter. We can fly into the city and save him.”

“If we’re saving Minho, I would like to propose a sub mission if you will,” I offered, turning to Gally. “As much as I would love to reconcile with Minho, I don’t give a shit if we actually save him, but I’ll be damned if we don’t get the cure. I think that should be the focus.”

Maybe there was some truth behind my words. Maybe there wasn’t. Gally didn’t buy it, but we still decided to go forward with the plan to get the cure. And sure, save Minho in the process.

Minho, on the other hand, was going insane. The last conversation we had was on replay in his head all day every day. Despite the hours of torturing WICKED did to him, all by Teresa’s hand, nothing hurt him more than knowing he fucked up. While sitting in his cell after one of the more brutal beatings, he decied this was his punishment for royally fucking up. Moreover, he decided that it was justified. 

He hated seeing the look of disgust on my face as soon as he made the first comment in the Glade. He also hated seeing the look of defeat after the keepers meeting where I petitioned on Thomas’s behalf. He hated everything he did, and in isolation, all he was left with was his thoughts. 

That is until he heard commotion outside. He thought it was in his head at first and did not want to get his hopes up. However, when he heard keys in the lock, he cowered away, thinking it was a guard to take him again for testing. He closed his eyes and held his head in his hands until he felt gentle palms pull them away. He slowly peeled his eyes open to meet her familiar orbs.

“Hey, we gotta get you outta here. Thomas and Newt are getting the cure, but I need you to follow me now. We’ll talk it out when we’re in the safe haven.” Y/n. It was Y/n. It’s always been Y/n.

~~~~~

© BAD268 2024. DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION.

[7s3ven]

Tom Riddle, Draco Malfoy, Theodore Nott, Matteo, basically the whole Slytherin squad tbh, Young! President Snow, Cato Hadley, Minho (TMR), and Luke Castellan give off “she my private dancer. You could call her phone but she ain’t gon’ answer. You could call her phone and I’ll probably answer” vibes

[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."

[starboysbrainrot]

thomas and minho, still practicing this artstyle

thomas with heart shaped sunglasses is directly inspired by @go-catch-a-chickn ‘s work “my favorite color is you”, it was such a sweet os ! absolutely adored the way you portrayed Newt and Thomas :)

[m30wk1ttycat]

book!newt ties his hair up into a cute lil ponytail because it keeps getting into his eyes and he can't see otherwise. minho makes fun of him for it - even though he doesn't mean it - and newt, basically being the glade's profesional barber, refuses to cut his hair until he takes his words back. :3

[ihavedeseal]

This scene SHOCKED me so HARD

[Big fan of How I drew and rendered Newt]

Original screenshot:

[hotdilfs11]

☆゜・。。Do You Love Me? 。。・゜☆

✩pairings: Newt x reader, Gally x reader, Minho x reader(friendship)

✩ summary- Y/n is the only girl in the glade and she's gotten close to the boys there to the point of having feelings. She loves Gally and Newt very much but who would she chose? And who would she hurt? Y/n is spiraling and scared about losing two of her closest friends.

warnings: none

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿

The Glade. It’s home, peaceful, and full of life, love, and adventure. I’m the only girl in the glade as of now. I came out of the little crate thingy about a month ago, and I’ve made many friends since then. Even though we're all trapped here, I’ve never felt this at home before. It’s a warm and comforting feeling that I’ll never forget. The people that made it feel like home are the people I trust with my fucking life, my ride-or-die, and my day-to-day. Minho, Newt, and Gally

 Minho. I run with him, and yes, I said it; I’m a runner. It seems crazy, but the first day I got here, I wanted to be a runner, and I begged Minho to make me a runner, and he did. Now we're closer than ever. He's like a big brother to me; he protects me, and we fight sometimes, but we get along well. Anyway, I ran the maze with him. We trust each other, trust each other's opinions, and trust each other's judgment. We’re best friends, and I love him so much.

Gally. He’s very protective of me. You can say he’s overprotective at times. I get pushed around, someone argues with me, or someone messes with me. Gally is always there to back me up. On the first day of my being in the Glade, Gally challenged me in the wrestling sand circle. He told me the rules, and we fought. I didn’t win; I fought like hell too. I tricked him once he busted his ass, but in the end, I won everyone’s respect. I earned Gally's respect. Now we fight and tease each other. I love him too; he’s my other best friend.

Finally Newt. He’s such a sweetheart. I can admit I had some trouble fitting in here. I’ve started fights and finished them. I was angry at the world for sending me here, and the only one who told me it was okay was Newt. That's why I love him so much. When I was in the box, he was the first one to jump down and say “It’s a girl” in a heavy British accent. He was the first one to give me a tour. He cared for me, comforted me, fed me; he just took care of me. I hung out with him every day, having deep, long conversations almost every day and sharing everything we could remember about each other. I feel at home with him. I feel warmth and comfort. He always has my back, even when I’m in the wrong.

“LETS GO, Y/N” Minho shouted as sweat poured down his face. His scream bounced off the rusty concrete walls as we sprinted through the maze. Our shoes slammed hard on the ground as we reached the end of the maze, but I couldn’t run anymore. My legs and arms were on fire, with sweat dripping down my face. I licked my lips, tasting the sweet saltiness of my sweat still running and fighting through the pain I’m enduring. We make a sharp turn, seeing the Glade dead ahead of us, but my legs feel like they’re about to go out. I couldn’t breathe anymore. My clothes were sticking to my clothes as the scorching sun punched my face. It felt like my head was going to explode. But I didn’t give up, though I fought like hell to get out of the maze. As everything came to a blur, I fell to the ground, feeling the soft green grass hug my face. The smell made me relax as I sunk into it, making every ounce of my problems fly out the window. 

"Minho, go on without me... I gotta, I gotta lay down for a second,” I say as I try to catch my breath.

Running around me Minho yells, "Okay, I’ll bring you some water!”

“Uh huh,” I murmured, covering my face with my left arm and blocking the sun from my eyes. I sat there for about ten minutes until I felt a strong presence creep towards me. A large shadow stood over me, and it took me a while to say something because of how sore my muscles were.

The Glade. It’s home, peaceful, and full of life, love, and adventure. I’m the only girl in the glade as of now. I came out of the little crate thingy about a month ago, and I’ve made many friends since then. Even though we're all trapped here, I’ve never felt this at home before. It’s a warm and comforting feeling that I’ll never forget. The people that made it feel like home are the people I trust with my fucking life, my ride-or-die, and my day-to-day. Minho, Newt, and Gally

 Minho. I ran with him, and yes, I said it; I’m a runner. It seems crazy, but the first day I got here, I wanted to be a runner, and I begged Minho to make me a runner, and he did. Now we're closer than ever. He's like a big brother to me; he protects me, and we fight sometimes, but we get along well. Anyway, I ran the maze with him. We trust each other, trust each other's opinions, and trust each other's judgment. We’re best friends, and I love him so much.

Gally. He’s very protective of me. You can say he’s overprotective at times. I get pushed around, someone argues with me, or someone messes with me. Gally is always there to back me up. On the first day of my being in the Glade, Gally challenged me in the wrestling sand circle. He told me the rules, and we fought. I didn’t win; I fought like hell too. I tricked him once he busted his ass, but in the end, I won everyone’s respect. I earned Gally's respect. Now we fight and tease each other. I love him too; he’s my other best friend.

Finally Newt. He’s such a sweetheart. I can admit I had some trouble fitting in here. I’ve started fights and finished them. I was angry at the world for sending me here, and the only one who told me it was okay was Newt. That's why I love him so much. When I was in the box, he was the first one to jump down and say “It’s a girl” in a heavy British accent. He was the first one to give me a tour. He cared for me, comforted me, fed me; he just took care of me. I hung out with him every day, having deep, long conversations almost every day and sharing everything we could remember about each other. I feel at home with him. I feel warmth and comfort. He always has my back, even when I’m in the wrong.

“LETS GO, Y/N” Minho shouted as sweat poured down his face. His scream bounced off the rusty concrete walls as we sprinted through the maze. Our shoes slammed hard on the ground as we reached the end of the maze, but I couldn’t run anymore. My legs and arms were on fire, with sweat dripping down my face. I licked my lips, tasting the sweet saltiness of my sweat still running and fighting through the pain I’m enduring. We make a sharp turn, seeing the Glade dead ahead of us, but my legs feel like they’re about to go out. I couldn’t breathe anymore. My clothes were sticking to my clothes as the scorching sun punched my face. It felt like my head was going to explode. But I didn’t give up, though I fought like hell to get out of the maze. As everything came to a blur, I fell to the ground, feeling the soft green grass hug my face. The smell made me relax as I sunk into it, making every ounce of my problems fly out the window. 

"Minho, go on without me... I gotta, I gotta lay down for a second,” I say as I try to catch my breath.

Running around me Minho yells, "Okay, I’ll bring you some water!”

“Uh huh,” I murmured, covering my face with my left arm and blocking the sun from my eyes. I sat there for about ten minutes until I felt a strong presence creep towards me. A large shadow stood over me, and it took me a while to say something because of how sore my muscles were.

“What the hell are you doing on the floor? ''Gally said with a cute smirk on his face. "Uh, huh,” I mumbled, waving him off.

“Y/N?”

I groaned,"Yes, Gally, what?”

“What are you doing on the floor?” He says it in a concerning tone.

I look up at him with my elbows propping me up. “I’m tired, man,” I sigh. “Give me a piggyback ride, would you?"I need to lay down.” I say it lazily, covering my face with my hand to get a better look at him.

He rolls his eyes with another cute smirk on his face. It kind of gave me butterflies. "Ok, fine, come on." He squats down, waiting for me to jump on his back. I lift myself up off the soft grass,jumping on his muscular and hard back. I felt his warmth radiate off his body and off mine as I wrapped my tender arms around his neck and my legs around his waist. Gally's arms flexed when his strong arms started to find their place around my legs, and the strength of his rough hands supported me on his back. I rested my head on his shoulders, taking in his harsh evergreen scent, which sent a chill through my whole body.

"Aww, you're such a sweetheart, Gally.” I tease him, smiling through my words. Gally scoffed, “Shut up,” with a soft chuckle leaving his mouth. I know he was being sarcastic, but I saw a smile appear on his face as a red hue started to slowly form on his face, giving me butterflies in my stomach. I leaned closer into him, smelling his husky, earthy scent as he continued to walk me closer to my destination. I never wanted to get off of him. I felt so close and in touch with him.

"Where are you going again?” he questioned 

“Umm…you can take me to Minho," I whispered softly in his ear, trying to relax into him. I inched into the crook of his neck, savoring the amazing scent bouncing off his skin. As I’m relaxing on Gally's back, I hear footsteps approaching me from behind.

 "Hey, love," someone said to me in a hefty and attractive British accent. I turn around to see Newt running up beside me, and Gally looks handsome as ever with his dirty blond hair and his lavish smile. With butterflies swarming in my stomach, I turn my neck around to look at him. "Hey, Newt,” I smile. I started to appreciate his soft, chiseled facial features as I gazed into his deep brown eyes.

"Where are you going? and why are you on Gally's back?”

"I was in the maze today and got tired, and I'm just trying to find Minho on my new ride here.” I patted Gally's back as I softly chuckled at him.

 "Shut up.” Gally glared at me.

 Newt chuckled. "Well, when you’re done, love, maybe we can go hang out if you want.” Newt asked anxiously, waiting for an answer.

Resting my head on Gally's back, I look into his eyes once again, and being coy, I say, "Maybe,” with a soft smile forming on my face. He grins lavishly, breaking eye contact. “Well, I’ll see you then, y/n/n.” He runs the other way, and I watch him go. Gally took a deep breath and sighed. "Oh, look, there's Minho," he said in a nonchalant tone".

I waved my arm at him, trying to catch his attention. “Minho!” I yelled. He didn’t see me, so I jumped off Gally's back. My boots hit the ground hard, and my legs were still sore, but I was okay to walk. “Minho!” I yell one more time as I and Gally are walking towards him.

"Yeah, I was supposed to bring you whatever happened. He says he is walking towards me with his arms in the air.

I put my hand on my forehead, shielding my eyes from the radiant sunlight. "Uh, well, Gally here gave me a piggyback ride, so you didn’t have to run back."

"Hey Gally!" Minho yelled, walking towards us. Gally made a slight wave at Minho with a friendly smile.

Minho picked up the water he got and came up to me, handing it to me. “I didn’t mind running back over there." Minho gets cut off by this relentless, loud buzzing sound pierced through the air. It sounded like a loud hum of a thousand bees that nerved all of us but also scared us. It was another greenie. The machines grinded together, creating a loud pitch that fanned through the air, refusing to be ignored. We all turned our heads sharply, guiding our attention to the sound. We looked at each other with concern, making sure we heard it right. However, it wasn't the end of the loud, suffocating sound. As another buzz started to dash through the air, we all started sprinting to the elevator like a machine. I was still sore and hurting, but we all had to see what they brought up. My heart was beating out of my chest, and sweat beads started to farm on my forehead as everyone in the glade sprinted towards the crate.

 Out of breath, Minho and I stopped at the door's opening. Gally was hovering over the two futuristic metal doors. Newt came behind me, trying to push through the crowd of boys. As he was passing me, he put his soft, warm hand on the small of my back, sending a chill throughout my body. Anyway, Newt stood beside Gally as they investigated the door opening. The doors open, showing a boy. He’s about sixteen and scared; he looks like every average boy in the glade. Gally jumps in the crate with force, furiously saying, "Day one, greenie," taking him by the shirt and getting him out of the crate. It’s like this with every kid that comes here. They get scared; they don’t know who they are; they try to run, blah blah blah. It’s a cycle at this point, but it’s pretty amusing. I don’t know if that’s messed up, but if you haven’t noticed, there’s not that much entertainment in the glade.

໒( ” •̀ ᗜ •́ ” )७ sorry if I have some mispelling and stuff I didn't look over it yet ๑ ︵︵ ๑

[eddies-guitar13]

Thomas: whenever Newt's mad at me, I tighten all the jar lids so then he has to talk to me.

Minho: I don't think that's gonna wor-

*glass breaking in the background*

Minho: ...

Thomas: huh. I was sure that was gonna work.

[xnewtiebooty]

Lol

I love their dynamic