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mssorceressupreme · 5 months ago

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Saviour | Minho x Reader

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

Warnings: mild bullying/teasing

��—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey! Get back here, you shanks!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

——

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#minho tmr x reader #imagine #maze runner #dylan o'brien #ki hong lee #minho maze runner x reader #the maze runner #thomas brodie sangster #tmr newt #thomas tmr #x reader #fanfic #maze runner fanfiction #minho tmr #minho maze runner #tmr alby

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xnewtiebooty · 3 months ago

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Xjfmdklskxkz Thomas NOT THE TIME

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moonyswritinq · 8 months ago

Note

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

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

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

-🦇

if the haircut fits — newt x male reader

�� IF THE HAIRCUT FITS ❞

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

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

PAIRING ➢ newt x male reader

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

WORD COUNT ➢ 7.3 k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Whatever, man.”

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

“Shankhead,” he muttered.

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

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

“What?” you spit at him.

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

“Smooth,” Newt commented when you reached him.

“Shut up.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why? Does it bother you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah,” you answered with a sheepish grin.

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

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

“Your food tastes much better.”

“It’s exactly the same.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fine.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Never said that.”

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

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

“Now?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Since you asked so kindly.”

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

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

“Anything for you, Newt.”

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

“How’s it going, Newt?” you asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Good.”

“Better than before?”

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m not.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You sure about that?” he asked sceptically.

“Er, yeah?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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dont-let-me-eat-pears · 1 year ago

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Newt + the bonfire scene

#the maze runner #tmr #newt #tmr newt #newtmas #newt tmr #thomas x newt #tmredit #tmrgif #thomas #alby #my gifs #don't mind me just getting things out of my system

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da-birb-writes-sometimes · 1 year ago

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WARMMORNINGSJAMSWARMMORNINGSJAMS

(Warm mornings with jams please)

👀👀👀👀👀👀

Warm Mornings; Jamil Viper

Content; Fluff, gender-neutral reader, established relationship

Word Count; 650+

Author's Note; I was possessed by this vision and I hope that you go into cardiac arrest because of it. Translation for a term of endearment will be at the bottom!

As a reminder, do not put my work — or others for that matter — into AI as it steals. Link to Masterlist

Jamil slowly blinked his eyes, waking up from a dream; a dream that he was visiting one of the Al-Asim’s many vacation homes, the one by the coast. A dream that you were by his side, smiling at him as you excitedly went through all of the rooms. But it wasn’t a dream, he knew that when he saw the driftwood ceiling, and saw your sleeping form next to him.

The Sun was just peeking out from the horizon, golden rays turning the ocean a warm amber, coming through the open shutters and illuminating dust clouds that drifted in the light breeze.

If Jamil were back in his dorm, or at the Al-Asim estate, he would have already started his day. He would have been making breakfast for Kalim and their lunches as well. He would have been rushing and worrying. But he didn’t have to do that here, he didn’t need to do anything. He could relax.

Sighing, he turns over to face you, and breathes out a silent laugh. Apparently, yesterday had been pretty tiring, since you had dried up drool on your face, and some light snores escaped your mouth every so often. It was a side that he hadn’t really had the opportunity to witness or enjoy. And to Jamil, there was nothing more precious or stunning in his eyes, drool and all.

You shuffled in your sleep and Jamil froze, fearing that you had caught him in the act of admiring you. He didn’t want you to wake up and find him staring at you. He didn’t want you to think that he was being weird, or breaking some unsaid boundary. But you stayed asleep, and a particularly loud snore escaped from you, which nearly made Jamil snort, almost.

Jamil took one last look at you before deciding it was best to get up and slowly start his day. He sat on the edge of the bed for a bit, taking a mental screenshot of your sleeping face. And before he knew what he was doing, he placed a gentle kiss on your forehead. He didn’t overthink it, and a flare of panic did spring up, but he smothered it just as quickly as it had arisen. What did he have to worry about? There was nothing to worry about. He could be himself here, without worrying about others prying in or interrupting him. But enough dilly-dallying around. He may not be on the clock, but since he was awake, Jamil wanted to start his day.

So, as Jamil got ready for whatever this day may bring, he occasionally checked in on you. He also knew around what time you naturally woke up at, so while he waited for you to awaken from your slumber, he started preparing breakfast for the both of you. Well, your favourite breakfast.

While he was cooking, he felt your arms latch around his waist, and the weight of your head resting on his back. “Sleep well, habib albi?” Jamil asked, turning down the heat of the stove so your meal wouldn’t burn.

You hummed, “Slept like a rock. Could have slept longer, but it’s warm and I was getting sticky and gross… I probably look like a mess.” You burst out into laughter, imagining the state you must have been in when Jamil woke up who knows how long ago.

“No,” Jamil turned around, still with your arms around his waist, “you never looked better.”

He looked at you with so much softness, love, and vulnerability, that you could have sworn that your heart stopped. Jamil looked ethereal in the gentle, warm, amber rays of sunlight that filtered through the linen curtains. Yet, he was looking at you the same, despite the dried-up drool, frumpled pyjamas, and sleep-crusted eyes.

“Jamil?”

He hummed, prompting you to continue.

“Have I ever told you how much I love you?”

And he smiled at you, a soft, love-filled smile. “Habib albi, you don’t have to,” and he placed a small kiss on your lips. “I know.”

You sighed happily, resting comfortably against his chest. This morning had been warm in more ways than one.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

*habib albi; love of my heart (edit; it's a masc term but at the time I thought it was g/n; femme term is habibit)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tags; @krenenbaker @leonistic @xxoomiii @eynnwwyjth @twistwonderlanddevotee @savanaclaw1996

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il0veaphr0dite · 8 months ago

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WORRIED

｡･:*:･｡･★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡⋇⋆✦⋆⋇ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:

A/N: first story!! feel free to give me feedback and enjoy!!

Warnings: nothing really just a little fluff ig

Word count: 843

｡･:*:･｡･★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡⋇⋆✦⋆⋇ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:

He's late.

Minho’s never late

You were starting to get worried.

You begin to pace back and forth, running all the possible scenarios through your mind

Did a griever sting him during the time?

Is he hurt?

Is Alby dead?

Yesterday, Ben was stung by a griever in the daytime. That night, Minho told you that tomorrow, he and Alby would go back to the maze and retrace Ben's steps.

That same night he told you, you lay awake on your hammock with a sinking feeling in your stomach causing you to get minimum sleep that night.

You planned to wake up early that next morning to say goodbye to him. Unfortunately, you were too late.

That whole day you couldn't shake the feeling that something bad was going to happen.

You were in the Medhut cleaning up when you heard voices outside. You left the hut and jogged to the commotion.

Many gladers were surrounding the maze with torches in their hands. You slow down walking toward Newt to ask what happened.

“They should be back by now,” Newt said, gesturing toward the maze. Your heart dropped, and that sinking feeling in your gut got worse.

“What happens if they don't make it?” Thomas questions standing between you and Newt.

“They're gonna make it,” Newt argues.

Thomas continued arguing about how they should send someone in there but you were too worried to care besides, you knew that was against the rules.

You were deep in thought when you were interrupted by the maze doors closing. The gladers, including you, started to panic.

“There!” Thomas shouted pointing toward something at the end of the corridor.

It was Minho and Alby but something was wrong.

Alby seemed to be unconscious.

“Hurry!” She heard gladers cheering him on and soon she found herself joining in.

“Come on Minho”

“Just a little more!”

“You can make it!”

“Minho, you gotta leave him!” But you knew Minho too well, he would never.

The doors were about to close when suddenly, Thomas ran through them.

“Thomas, No!” you hear Chuck shout trying to grab his hand but failing.

And just like that Minho, Alby, and Thomas were stuck in the maze

｡･:*:･｡･★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡⋇⋆✦⋆⋇ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:

Everyone was getting ready to set up camp outside for the night.

You sat on the grass near the wall when Newt walked toward you with a sleeping bag in one hand and a plate with a sandwich in the other.

You accepted both, thanking him.

“Eat up and get some rest,” he advised you as he walked away to his sleeping bag.

You tossed and turned all night wishing you could have run into the maze instead of Thomas.

｡･:*:･｡･★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡⋇⋆✦⋆⋇ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:

“Y/N, the doors are about to open,” Newt spoke out, shaking you awake.

You got up and hurried with Newt to the maze doors and pushed through the crowd as the doors began to open.

The corridor was empty. You couldn't believe it.

“Minho!” You yell out waiting for a response.

Silence echoed through the maze.

Newt placed a hand on your shoulder “They're not coming back Y/N,”

You turn around to look at him, shaking your head. “There has to be something we can do!” You argue.

“No way!” Chuck lets out.

You turn around to see Thomas and Minho helping Alby to the Glade.

“Yeah!”

Gladers begin to cheer them on. You were filled with so much happiness you also began cheering them on.

“I got him,” Jeff says, laying Alby on the ground.

“Did you see a griever?” Chuck questions.

“Yeah, I saw one”

“He didn't just see it, he killed it,” Minho explains.

They immediately decide to call a meeting.

｡･:*:･｡･★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡⋇⋆✦⋆⋇ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:

After the meeting and the new Greenie, You went up to the tree house tired and overwhelmed with all the events that happened.

You were too deep in thought when suddenly another pair of feet were next to you.

“Hi”

“Hi,” You let out barely above a whisper.

“How are you doing?” he asks, you let out a small laugh “ I should be the one asking you that.”

He chuckles, Then it goes silent again.

You turn to face him but you find him already looking at you. You wrap your arms around him. He stiffens at first then wraps his arms around your waist.

“I was worried about you” You whisper, not sure if he heard you.

“Who wouldn't miss my handsome face?” he says, causing you to laugh and hug him tighter.

You finally let go, looking him in the eyes.

“Promise me you'll always come back,”

He node “I promise”

You stare into his eyes, as he stares into yours.

He then began moving closer towards you.

You closed your eyes and then felt a pair of soft lips on yours.

You kissed him back passionately.

After a while, you both pull away to catch your breath.

“I'm guessing that means you like me too?” he says, staring at you with a slight blush on his cheek.

You nod, pulling him in for another kiss.

｡･:*:･｡･★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡⋇⋆✦⋆⋇ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:

#minho maze runner #the maze runner #mazeposting #maze runner #minho x you #minho x reader #tmr minho #minho imagines #minho #minho headcanons #thomas tmr #newt tmr #alby tmr #gladers #the glades #teresa tmr #gally tmr

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kitkat-moon · 1 month ago

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IM MAKING A TMR COMMUNITY!!! If you’re interested lmk and I’ll make sure to invite u when it’s set up 👍🏻

#the maze runner #tmr #x reader #newtmas #Thomas tmr #newt tmr #tmr frypan #Teresa tmr #Alby tmr #Gally tmr #writers on tumblr #artists on tumblr #tmr community

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ravenyenn19 · 1 year ago

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Six of Crows future head cannon:

Alby Rollins joins the Dregs.

Picture it: 1920’s-esque Ketterdam, 10 years post Sweet Reef/ Ice Court. Slick Rolls Royce cars line the cobbled streets, a city spiraling toward a new age. Rain drenches the obscure signs & hidden arrows pointing to the Speak-Easy halls. In a time of prohibition… down, down, down must one go in the Barrel to find the most notorious of them all. A slice of sin, six feet under. A crowd drunk off vice served in black tea cups.

The young man walks into Kaz Brekker’s office (after fighting his way there), sits himself in a chair opposite a great obsidian desk. Winded & lip still bleeding from his tousle with the men at the doors, Alby wheezes: “Teach me.”

In turn, A near 30 year old Kaz smirks. “I thought lions preferred their pride.”

Alby, barely pushing 17, gives a smile of a golden boy, nervous but strong enough to hold the gaze of a devil. (He’s practiced.) “I thought Crows scavengers. Here I am, a shine for the taking.”

“Still have that crow, little lion?” A feminine shadow whispers from the corner. Unnoticed by the young man previously, he clicks his teeth but still refuses to show fear. A serpent-like bead of sweat slides down his spine, a shiver chasing after. He holds firm, biting his cheek to hide the startle.

He knows this shadow, this phantom. She haunted him, once.

“I buried it with my father,” the Kaelish prince whispers, “or rather, in place of him. Never did find a body. Pity.” He shrugs.

Kaz’s eyes glint like a cat’s, his smile a loaded gun. A gloved hand stretches halfway across the table in offering. “All right, cub. What do you want?”

Alby reaches forward, feeling the cold black leather of Dirtyhands’ grip between his fingers. The moment is a stormy crossroads, a whip between his shoulders reminiscent of his father’s favorite belt. He smiles, for this is a pain Alby has been walking toward since the day he woke up clutching stuffed black feathers.

(His blood never did bleed emerald.)

More than one answer to Kaz’s stinging question come to mind, nettles along the path of his thoughts. Yet, only one pricks Alby into speaking, the rage in his voice real rather than bravado. “Revenge.”

The Wraith giggles roughly, slipping herself to the arm of Kaz’s chair on silent feet. Alby swallows.

“On me?” The leader of the Dregs rasps, a brow peaked with amusement. His wife smiles with closed lips, knives glinting along her body like hungry specters. For here, her teeth are shown. Alby knows she Captain’s a fleet of the deadliest ships in the True Sea. He drags his gaze from her quickly.

“No.” Alby stutters, but he does not lie. Kaz Brekker bested his abusive father, and he does not care about Pekka’s death. In fact, sitting with the suspected murderers, Alby finds he rather prefers their company.

Kaz reclines in his chair, a hand lazily splayed on Captain Ghafa’s knee. He regards Alby with black eyes, a sharpness that pierces through his strength but doesn’t shatter it. A blade meant to probe. A test of mettle. Alby has waited too long for this audience, he cannot lose it. A moment passes.

Dirtyhands looks to his wife, his Wraith. She quirks her head in the silent exchange. Six heart beats have passed, and Alby Rollins is certain he won’t leave this room. He waits for the snap of a cane to bank his vision, a warm blanket of red to cover him from the jugular down.

He waits for death, but does not invite it. It does not come.

Instead, a voice like choking smoke, “Then let us begin.”

Alby Rollins releases a breath. His knuckles loosen in parts. A tattooist is called in.

The Crow & Cup bleeds as it settles, accepting the fresh skin as it’s master’s tithe.

Alby sits taller, a prince of a different kind, a darker throne.

I don’t make the rules but this is now my personal agenda & important that u agree

Crap now I have to put it in a fic

Should I do it?

499 notes · View notes

book-place · 2 years ago

Text

Story of Tonight

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

Pairings: Gladers x reader platonic

*not my gif*

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

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

Inspired by: The Story of Tonight by We the Kings

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

I may not live to see our glory

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What is this place?”

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

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

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

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

“I think it is.” He whispered.

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

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

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

But I will gladly join the fight

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And when our children tell our story

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thomas.” He mumbled, looking slightly disoriented.

“What?” Your eyebrows furrowed.

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

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

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

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

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

“I-he-“ Gally sputtered out.

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

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

“Tell me about it,” Thomas muttered.

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

They'll tell the story of tonight

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

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

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

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

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

“Y/n.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Thomas.”

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

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

“You saw him?” You hesitated.

He nodded his head, “Clear as day.”

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

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

Let's have another round tonight

She’s the last one. Ever.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Let's have another round tonight

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“This is your last warning.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Let's have another round tonight

It was one bad thing right after the next.

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

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

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

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

“They’ll be alright.”

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

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

You didn’t know what to do.

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

Minho was dragging Alby along.

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

Your mouth went dry and your throat began closing up.

“Come on!”

“Hurry!”

“Leave him!”

“Run, Minho, run!”

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

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

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

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

Raise our glass to freedom

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your feet remained firmly planted on the ground.

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

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

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

There stood Alby, Minho, and Thomas.

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

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

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

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

Something they can never take away

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No matter what they tell you

No, no, no, no-

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

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

The sky was gray and the sun had disappeared.

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

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

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

It was all too much. You could hardly breathe.

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

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

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

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

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

“You don’t say.” You deadpanned.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Raise our glass to the four of us

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tomorrow there'll be more of us

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Telling the story of tonight

It was a code.

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

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

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

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

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

Hope. Genuine hope.

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

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

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

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

Your heart stopped.

“What?”

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

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

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

The story of tonight

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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gaytistic · 3 months ago

Text

Okay but the fact that Alby found Newt after his suicide attempts means that he broke the rules to go find Newt when he didn't come back in time

They were married, your honour

Also Newt and Alby both sat on the bed in the homestead when they started chatting about a plan and then the bed went to Newt when Alby went to the map room

They were going to share the bad, your honour

#tmr #the maze runner alby #the maze runner newt #the maze runner #newt x alby #alby x newt #tmr alby #tmr newt #nalby

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justwearthegoddamncardigan · 10 months ago

Note

could you possibly do a platonic gladers thing where reader was the first to come out of the box? like they came up with the note like teresa but “the first” if that makes sense 😭 anyway the reader is just sort of a parental figure to everyone? whatever gender you’d like to put and scenarios, the thought just popped in my head. ofc do this only if you’d like to!! pls don’t feel obligated!! love ur work <333 /p

HI LOVE THIS!! Thank you for the request ❤

Everyone loves Y/n

Platonic gladers x gender neutral!reader, set during tmr (movieverse)

3k - longish fic but worth it if you love platonic love 🫶

Warnings: discussions of Newt's suicide attempt; but more like the recovery after it, still please take care everyone, also language warning

1. Alby

You're the first one. Welcome.

You stuff the crinkled note back in your pocket just as you've done so many times before, re-examining it and hoping for some clue as to why you're stuck in here alone.

Except- you're not alone anymore.

The boy stands beside the Box, staring around the same way you did when you first climbed out, exactly 30 days ago.

Come on, Y/n. Time to go. You take a deep breath, resolving yourself, and you step out from where you'd been standing hidden in the trees.

The guy notices you immediately and takes a defensive stance, understandably hostile and scared. "Who are you? Don't come any closer!"

"Woah, hey," you raise your arms nonthreateningly, continuing to move slowly towards him. "It's alright."

"Where am I?" demands the boy.

"To be honest, I haven't got a clue," you tell him. "But you've got no idea how happy I am to see you."

His eyes narrow. "What?"

You shrug. "I thought I'd be alone here, forever."

At his silence, you continue. "So I've been here for a month. I was sent up in this Box, like you, with a bunch of resources and... hey, they've sent more stuff," you say happily, peering into the Box.

"Alright listen man," you say. "I don't really have answers for you, but I did start developing a routine for how to live here, and I'd love for us to work together."

The boy holds your gaze for a second, before giving a single nod.

You let out a sigh of relief. "Great, wonderful. I'm Y/n, by the way." You stick out your hand to shake. "Oh- memories. Your name is all you get, everything else is gone. But hey, let's make new memories here, together." You flash a cheesy grin and clap the guy on the shoulder.

You don't know how someone conveys sarcasm in a single look, but the new guy manages it just fine.

2. Minho

"Here, this way- shit."

You turn the corner and see the wall sliding into place, sealing off your exit.

"Which way now?" asks Minho, fear evident in his voice.

"Uh- that was already my backup route," you say honestly, backing away from the closed wall. "Just follow me, we'll find another way back."

You start down a lane, moving faster now, admittedly guessing your way through the paths and taking turns on instinct, aiming for the vague direction of the Glade.

Somewhere across the Maze a Griever lets out a screech.

"Yeah, okay," you mutter. Shuck. "In here, quickly," you direct, pushing Minho ahead into a smaller lane.

"Alright, here's the deal." You squat down, forcing Minho down with you, and keeping your voice low. "If I'm right, we're close to the Glade now. There should be a right turn at the end of the path next to us now, then a left and a straight shot back to the Glade."

"What if you're not right?" hisses Minho, wincing at the Griever's screech.

"Then we're dead," you say flatly. "Cause that Griever's in the same direction we're going. By the sound of it, we'll be running the path right beside it's lane."

"What."

"Look, Minho. Do you trust me?"

He hesitates, before; "Yes, fine. Let's go."

You shoot him a grin, patting his shoulder. "Perfect. Follow me, stay close."

You run through the route you'd explained to Minho, feeling your blood chill as you get closer to the Griever, its screeches becoming deafening.

You turn to check on Minho, who gives you a firm nod despite the terror you can see in his eyes.

The two of you turn into the final stretch, separated from the Griever by a single wall, and you sprint back to the Glade, heart pounding in your chest.

You collapse into the grass, breathing heavily as Minho falls in beside you.

"What the hell happened to you two?" demands Alby, running up to you and Minho.

You sit up. "Maze changed, and there was a Griever near the Glade," you explain. "Too near."

"Bloody hell," says Newt, hands balanced on his hips. "Are you sure this was a good idea?"

So far you and Alby have been the only people to enter the Maze. Today was meant to be a beginner's run for Minho, your newest Glader and technically the Greenie even though he's never acted like it. You wanted to build a team of Runners, to see if more people could help with searching for an exit.

You look to Minho, still bent over in the grass. "Let's talk in the hut," you say, patting his arm.

"What did you think?" you ask, after you've both gotten water and a few minutes to let the adrenaline fade.

Minho flicks his gaze up at you, before dropping it. "I freaked out. I don't think I'm cut out for this Runner klunk."

You hum softly, tapping on the table Gally had lovingly built and sanded until it shone. "Do you think everyone was immediately good at their jobs?"

"Running is different," responds Minho, dodging the question.

"You were fast," you say. "I think you'd beat any of us in a race if we bothered to test it out. And you've got a level head, which is the most important thing when you're in the Maze."

You lean forward. "But you also need the guts to set foot in the Maze in the first place. And Minho, you were the first volunteer to run with me today. That's exactly the bravery we need in Runners."

You're met with silence. "If I asked you to be a Runner," you say quietly. "Would you say yes?"

"You could be asking the wrong person," hedges Minho.

"I don't think so," you say.

"I- why? Why me?"

"Because I believe in you," you say simply. "I think you could do it."

The silence stretches as you wait for Minho's response. Then; "Okay, I'll do it." He gives you a nod, expression resolving.

You sit back, a mock-thoughtful expression on your face. "I mean, I said if I asked you, this was really more hypothetical-"

"Y/n, I swear-"

You let out a laugh, and Minho rolls his eyes at you, grinning.

3. Newt

Overtime, the Gladers have grown into a wider community, with new jobs and groups slowly added.

Alby steps into the leader position and you move into your gardening job, as well as mentoring the Medjacks on the side. You tend to pick up a little of every job, passing what you know to newly formed groups until they can develop on their own.

Minho's grown far beyond what you could have expected from him, moving on to memorising routes, constructing a scarily detailed Map, and hand-picking the new Runners.

Newt becomes a Runner too, and you almost lose him.

They're some of the worst memories you'll ever have, that day Minho ran in in the freezing morning, screaming for help. The Medjack hut was finished literally a day before, and the Medjacks themselves were barely trained to patch up the Slicers. So everyone turned to you... And you were so, so, out of your depth.

You'd built a temporary brace for your own twisted ankle from your first month alone in the Glade, but for this you were completely unqualified and unprepared.

It’s been months now, with Newt slowly healing overtime. You worked with the Medjacks to set up a few movement drills, but it’s been painstakingly slow progress.

“I want to try walking again.”

You lift your gaze to Newt in the dark. “Now?”

“I wanna go outside.”

You hesitate.

“Come on, Y/n, I barely got five steps in today before Jeff made me sit down again. I’m fine, I promise.”

“You’re fine when the Medjacks say you’re fine,” you reply.

“The Medjacks don’t know shit,” retorts Newt. “They’re just making stuff up as they go. That’s what we’ve all been doing.”

“I trust them,” you say steadily. “Alby and I chose them for a reason.”

“Y/n, can you please just let me outside.”

You let out a breath. “Fine. Take your crutches.”

You don’t go far; the ground is too uneven and the crutches slip in the grass. You end up dropping them near the top of a hill.

“Here, let’s sit.”

You reach a hand out to Newt, which he thankfully takes, letting you help him down so you’re both lying back on the grass, facing up at the night sky.

“It was a good idea,” you say, breaking the silence. “I get why you wanted to come out.”

"Yeah," says Newt. He jerks his chin upwards. “The stars, they’re what I’m here for.”

You tip your head back, following Newt’s eye line. “You know, my first night here, I hadn’t built a place to sleep. I just lay on the ground like this, looking up at the stars.”

Newt shifts, moving one hand to point upwards. "I recognise most of the constellations," he tells you.

"Really?"

"Yep. That's Orion, right there. And over there is Gemini. And that star is Sirius, in Canis Major."

You search your mind for a hint of a memory, trying to call up knowledge you might have had before being put here.

"It's all bullshit," says Newt.

You turn to him in surprise.

"The stars," he says, still staring upwards. "None of them should be arranged like that, the constellations wouldn't be that close, or even in the same area, if this was real."

"Oh," you say, voice soft.

Newt lets out a flat laugh. “I don’t know why they let me keep this knowledge, when they’ve taken everything else away.”

He sits up, eyes flicking down to you. “…sorry.”

You shake your head, sitting up and turning to face him. “It’s okay. I’d rather you say this stuff than keep it bottled up.”

“Right,” says Newt. “I guess we should… get back to the hut.”

Neither of you move to get up.

“Newt,” you say. You face forward, resting your arms loosely around your knees.

”Yeah?”

“Please stay with us,” you say, voice quiet. You turn to him, letting go of your legs to gently take his hands. “We need you, I- we- okay, let me just-” You take a deep breath. “Listen, we’re gonna get out of here some day. And I want to sit with you under real skies, with real stars, so you can tell me each and every constellation you see. Cause I know your nerdy ass studied all of them in another life, and I don’t know, when we run out, we can just... make up new ones? I think that’s something I want to do with you.”

“Yeah, okay- yes. Okay.” Newt’s eyes are wet, and he squeezes your hands right back.

“And talk to us,” you continue. “When you’re struggling, or hurting, or… anything. Just talk to us, Newt. Please. We need you, and we care about you, so much.”

“I’ll try, I’m trying.”

“That’s all I’m asking,” you say.

“God, okay,” you start, after staying there under the stars for a while. “Look at us. Let’s get back in the hut, c’mon.”

You help him up, handing him his crutches.

“So, we’re trying,” you say, looking Newt in the eye.

“Yes, we’re trying.”

You get the smallest of smiles from him, and count it as the biggest win.

4. Gally

"First he breaks all our rules, then he tries to convince us to abandon them entirely? These rules have held us together for years, why are we questioning them now?"

You frown slightly, taking in Gally's words from your seat at the back of Council Hall.

"If Alby was here, he'd agree with me, and you know it."

You watch pain flicker across Newt's face for a second, before he speaks. "Let's take a break. I want Minho, Gally, and Y/n in here, the rest of you just give us ten minutes."

As the others clear out, you join the three in the centre of the room.

"Newt, this really isn't complicated. That shank broke our rules, and he needs to be punished," says Gally.

Newt sighs, and you notice how tired he looks. He needs Alby. "You're not wrong, Gally, but..."

"Y/n, what are you thinking?" asks Minho, jerking his chin at you as Newt trails off.

You raise your eyebrows. "You know I have no say in this, Min. I'm not a Keeper, or any kind of leader. I'm pretty much just here to watch the meetings."

"Seriously, Y/n?"

"Fine," says Newt. "Then suppose we're asking you as friends asking a friend, not as a council leaders or Keepers."

"I don't-"

"Just speak, Y/n," says Gally exasperatedly.

"I- alright, the idea that Newt's having right now, mine's the same."

"Well, we'd love to hear it from your mouth," says Minho drily.

"Yeah Y/n, what am I thinking?" Newt crosses his arms, lifting a brow.

You sigh. "Punish Thomas for breaking the rules, but make him a Runner."

"You can't be serious," says Gally immediately.

Newt shrugs. "They're right, that's what I was thinking."

"I'm down to train him," says Minho. "I think he'd make a good Runner."

"Good. Call the Council back in then, we'll make the announcement."

"You're making a mistake," says Gally angrily. "Tell the others without me." He storms out as the rest of the Keepers file in.

"Gally-"

"Nah, Fry."

"I got him," you say, nodding at Frypan.

"You're alright," you whisper as you brush past a stressed-looking Thomas. You squeeze his shoulder reassuringly, and he gives you a small smile of gratitude.

You shut the door behind you, chasing Gally down as he storms into his hut.

"Gally wait-"

"I don't want to hear it, Y/n."

He slams his door shut, closing you out. You sigh, and let yourself in.

"Get out of my hut, Y/n."

"Stop, Gally," you say sharply. "Just listen."

Miraculously, he stays quiet, leaning back on the wall and crossing his arms.

"I... I know you're scared, Gally."

"What-"

"Oh my god, just hear me out," you huff, rolling your eyes. "Okay, so yes, we just got attacked by Grievers, right here in the Glade. And yeah, it's probably linked to Thomas. And- yes, making him a Runner and letting him pretty much just fuck around and find out could put us in danger. ...But he's also the closest we've ever been to understanding the Maze and this whole place. I think he's the key to getting us out of here."

You sit down on Gally's bed, gesturing for him to sit down beside you. He lets out a huff, but reluctantly takes a seat.

You look him in the eye. "Gally I've been here for three years, and it's great. We've built a structure, a life, a goddamn society. But I really, really want to see the outside world."

Gally scrubs a hand over his face, dropping his gaze. "Yeah, I know, Y/n. I'm just- I'm trying to keep everyone safe. Newt and Minho are blinded by this hope, they're believing too much in one guy who's been here for literal days."

"I know, I know. But we need to take that risk, if we want to get out of here, alright?"

Gally sighs, then nods. "Yeah, fine."

"I'm gonna help Thomas, and Newt and Minho in whatever plans they make."

You hold out your fist. "Promise me you'll follow the plans we make, and stick with us. Don't... you know, make your own group and stay here and get killed, or whatever you were planning to do."

Gally rolls his eyes at you, and reluctantly brings his fist up to knock against yours, following through with the handshake the two of you used to do after building something, back when you used to help out with the other jobs. "Yeah, yeah, we get it Y/n. You've been here the whole time, you know us sooo well, you can read our minds."

You grin widely. "Damn right I can."

5. Thomas (everyone loves Y/n)

"Do you think this'll work?" asks Thomas, chewing on his lip worriedly.

"Of course it will," you say. "Have a little faith in your plan, Thomas. You don't need approval from me."

Thomas huffs out a laugh. "Thanks. It's nice to hear you're confident, though."

You raise your eyebrows, smiling a little confusedly. "I mean, I'm glad my support motivates you."

Thomas squints his eyes at you. "Y/n, you know you're like... super respected, right?"

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, everyone looks up to you. You don't notice the way people turn to you in tense situations and stuff? You're kinda like an understated leader, I guess."

"Ah, right." You smile at him. "It's cause I was the first person here, which I do get credit for, I don't know why. Totally underserved, Alby's the one who built this place."

"Bullshit." You turn in surprise as Minho walks in, Newt following behind him.

"What?"

"Undeserved credit, my ass," says Minho, crossing his arms. "If it wasn't for you, I wouldn't be a Runner."

"Yeah," says Newt, coming over to your side. He props an elbow on your shoulder, grinning at the frown you send him. "And you know what," he says quietly. "If it wasn't for you, I might not even be here."

You smack his arm. "Don't even say-"

"Gally, tell Y/n we love them," interrupts Minho.

"Huh?" Gally lifts a brow, before nodding. "Yeah, everyone loves you, man. Don't take it personally. If it wasn't for you, I probably wouldn't even be on board with this plan right now."

"Ugh-" you pinch the bridge of your nose.

Thomas leans in. "Told you so."

"God, let's just do the plan. Let's go, everybody out," you say hurriedly, shoving Newt out, ignoring Minho's snickers.

You stand between Minho and Gally as Thomas and Newt explain the plan to the Gladers, feeling yourself surrounded by friends; family.

Time to get out of here.

The end chapter is cheesy but I love it thank you for reading <3333

#the maze runner #platonic gladers x reader #alby x reader #minho x reader #newt x reader #gally x reader #thomas x reader #my writing

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