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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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poorgirlinpoorworld · 5 months ago

Text

I drew my OC for The Maze Runner universe ✨ (her story below)

~ Martha „Mari” ~ named after Martha Nussbaum, American philosopher.

- 160 cm tall

- Brown, chocolate colored hair.

- Hazel eyes.

In the box:

- When she arrived in the box (one year before Thomas), Gally was the one who jumped down to her. The shock of the situation scared her so much that as she backed away from the boy, she bumped into some boxes, snagging her shirt and tearing it.

- To everyone’s surprise, Gally didn’t start shouting, didn’t grab her, and didn’t throw her out of the box. Perhaps it was because the first girl in the Glade stood right before him. When he noticed her probable fear of him, he raised his hands in surrender and tried to calm her down. As the girl began to relax, he reached out to her, and after a few seconds, she took his hand, giving him the most beautiful smile he had ever seen. „Oh, I'm so done now” he thought.

In the Glade:

- Her job was being a cook.

- She was know for being The Sunshine of the Glade. Her smile brightened everyone's day. In every situation, she tried to find the positive aspect. On better days, she would always come up with group activities or play the pranks on her friends. On worse days, when it was hard to find anything positive, she always made time to support anyone in need. She often encouraged discussions about emotions so that the boys wouldn’t bottle up their feelings. When Frypan, her keeper, wasn’t looking, she would sneak snacks to share with those who were having a tough day.

- After two months of constant flirting with Gally and giving him signals that she was interested in him… he still didn’t realize it, even though he had been in love with her since she arrived in the box. But eventually, her feelings reached him, and they were happily together.

- On her left wrist, she wears a bracelet that she received as a gift from Gally.

- Her bestfriend was Frypan, but she was also close to Ben and, for that reason, to Minho, because she was the one who always brought them breakfast at ungodly hours before their work as runners.

- When Chuck arrived he became her friend in mischiev.

- After Thomas arrived, her relationship with Gally drastically deteriorated. She couldn’t understand his hatred for the new boy and tried to explain that changes don’t always mean the worst. He couldn’t comprehend how she could trust him, especially after what happened with Ben. His hatred clouded his judgment. When she chose to escape with Thomas after the Griever attack, he felt betrayed. „We will survive here” he said to her, hoping she would change her mind. „I don’t want to survive, I want to live!” she shouted with tears in her eyes.

- When she saw him lying lifeless on the ground with a spear piercing his chest, her world came to a stop. She stood frozen as strangers began to pull them out of the room they were in.

In the Scorch:

- When they were brought into the room, it hit her what had happened, and she completely broke down. She fell to her knees, screaming from the depths of her lungs and crying so hard that it scared the others. Frypan immediately rushed to her, taking her into his arms, holding her close to his chest, and gently rocking her in an attempt to calm her down. After a moment, Minho sat down beside them, taking her hand and apologizing so quietly that it was hard to tell if he was speaking to her or to himself.

- After they escaped from the facility, she found a pair of long pants in the old shopping mall where they were hiding, she changed into them, putting on a jacket and a scarf. She also tied her hair back to keep it out of her eyes during the journey through The Scotch.

- Throughout the journey to the Right Arm camp, she traveled quietly behind the group, always at the back and never sticking her neck out. Everyone noticed that there was almost nothing left of the girl they once called The Sunshine of the Glade.

- After Teresa betrayed them and the WICKED showed up and captured Minho, she tried to save him, but she was unsuccessful, and ultimately, both of them were gone.

Captured by WICKED:

- She was on the train with Minho when Thomas and the group tried to save them.

- In the facility, they wouldn't let her see Minho. She quickly realized that he was in another part of the building when they began to transport her to the medical ward.

Being experimented by WICKED:

- Quickly, the doctors and scientists began experimenting on her, observing her reactions and monitoring her brain. Hooked up to strange machines, they put her into a state of hallucination and forced her to relive the deaths of her love - Gallys, also Chucks, Bens and others. Over time, she found a loophole in the simulation; before they could bring the next death before her eyes, she forced herself to commit suicide in the hallucination, still being safe in reality while connected to the machines. Her actions caused an error, disrupting the simulation before it fully started. However, WICKED did not give up, so for the next few months, she was subjected to experiments every day, and every day she committed suicide in her mind. She was already broken, but it was slowly destroying her from the inside.

- When they weren’t experimenting on her, she was locked in a room with a bed, a small closet, and a bathroom. Once, Teresa visited her, horrified by the state she found the girl in—neglected, emaciated, and lifeless—she approached the bed. She took a hairbrush from the closet and began to gently comb through her hair. However, all of Mari's memories rushed back of Gally, who loved to play with her long hair, running his fingers through it, or even braiding little plaits while listening to how her day went. With tears in her eyes, she pushed Teresa away and ran to the bathroom, slamming the door shut. When Teresa was about to leave, she heard the sound of shattering glass. Fearing the worst, she rushed to the bathroom. Upon opening the door, she noticed the broken mirror and Mari on the floor, surrounded by shards of glass and… hair. After breaking the mirror, Mari took a piece of glass and, with one bold motion, cut her hair to her shoulders. After doing so, her mind stopped functioning; she no longer knew what was a simulation and what wasn’t. Seeing herself in the reflection of the shard she held in her hand, she began to tremble. Looking at Teresa in the doorway, she raised her hand with the piece of glass and, staring into her eyes, plunged it into her own wrist. Teresa immediately rushed towards her, trying to stop the bleeding. The cut was shallow enough that she was quickly saved.

- When they eventually deemed her stable enough, they took her for further tests. As she was being transported by a guard, wearing a hospital gown, her head hung low, preparing for what awaited her, she didn’t even notice that a group of rebels who had been captured was being transported opposite her. As they passed each other, she lifted her head slightly and looked at one of the boys in the group. When her eyes met his, her heart stopped for a second. 'Gally?' she asked so quietly that she was afraid he wouldn’t hear her. Standing before her was the boy she had lost, whose death she had witnessed so many times that she wasn’t sure her heart could take it. He stood in front of her, taller, with more defined muscles, his hair cut short… but it was him. 'Martha?' he replied, shock evident in his eyes. Before she could react, the guards began to pull them apart in opposite directions. Both of them screamed each other’s names, trying to reach one another, but the guards’ grips were too strong. Moments later, she was around the corner, her love out of her sight. She couldn’t understand what was happening and what would happen next.

- After Gally and his group escaped with the help of a mole, the first thing he did was find the girl he had dreamed of since he lost her. He promised himself that he wouldn’t make the same mistake again and that he wouldn’t leave her alone once more. Once he found her, his group discovered an exit pointed out to them by an acquaintance, and they quickly transported themselves to the camp where Gally had been living all this time.

- It was a few weeks before Thomas and the others arrived. Gally took her to his room and laid her down on his bed. She was so exhausted from everything that she fell asleep immediately. When she woke up, she didn’t know where she was; she felt movement beside her, and when she looked to the side, she saw him. Gally was lying next to her, slightly dozing, having watched over her all night. In ideal circumstances, she would have thrown herself at him, kissing and hugging him, but Mari was shattered… she thought it was just another WICKED simulation. She spiraled into a frenzy, screaming, which jolted Gally awake and onto his feet. As she began to back away from him, shouting for him to stay away, he raised his hands in surrender, trying to calm her down, just like on the first day they met. However, this time she didn’t take his hand with a big smile; instead, she reached for the knife he had left on the nightstand beside the bed the day before. With a quick motion, she tried to stab herself in the stomach, but fortunately, the quick-thinking boy was faster and caught her hands, disarming her. Horrified by her state, he lifted her into a big bear hug and sat down on the bed, placing her on his lap while continuing to hold her close. After a few minutes, she finally calmed down, but still worried, she asked him if she was part of a simulation. Not fully understanding what she meant, he nonetheless assured her that this was not a simulation. Seeing the uncertainty in her eyes, he leaned over, brought his face close to hers, and gently kissed her on the lips. It was brief, but it made her believe him because no WICKED simulation could create such a sweet moment.

- Her episodes occurred almost every day, and every day Gally was by her side to calm her down.

- One day, Gally let her know that he was heading into the city with the group, promising he would be back soon. However, she didn’t expect him to return with guests. She burst into tears of joy when she saw the Gladers in front of her. Frypan immediately rushed toward her, hugging her tightly. Next came Brenda and Jorge, and finally Newt and Thomas. But for her, it was all too perfect; her mind began to play tricks on her again. Gally noticed her change in behavior out of the corner of his eye, but surrounded by friends, he didn’t have time to react. Mari had already grabbed a knife from Newt’s pocket, holding it out toward her neck while trembling. The boys, terrified by the situation, stepped back from her, calling out questions about what was happening. Experienced in these situations, Gally grabbed her hand, squeezing it enough to make her drop the knife but not to hurt her. With his other hand, he held her face and kissed her aggressively. As the girl came to her senses, tears streamed down her face as she repeatedly muttered, 'I’m sorry' under her breath. Gally took her to their shared room and laid her down to sleep. He then returned to the confused group and explained what she had been enduring for the past few months.

- During the plan to rescue Minho, Mari was constantly with Brenda and Frypan. Gally was worried about her; he didn’t want to be away from her, but she promised that everything would be fine and that nothing would happen to her while she was with the former cook.

- The plan succeeded; Minho and the other kids were rescued (AND NEWT SURVIVED).

Safe heaven:

- In the safe haven, she slept in a hammock next to Gally's bed, until the former builder constructed their own little hut on the edge of the beach.

- Occasional episodes still occurred, but Gally was always there to calm her until they finally stopped.

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mystic-writings · 1 year ago

Text

remember the nights | newt [remastered]

PAIRING — newt x thomas’ step-sister!reader

SUMMARY — after her father’s engagement, y/n moves from new york city to the small town of woodstock, where she befriends her step-brother thomas’ group of friends, and easily finds a second home within them. among the crowd of rowdy teenagers is newt, an intriguing boy who seemed to catch y/n’s eye, and who quickly becomes the boy that would end up making her final year of high school unforgettable.

WARNINGS — friends to lovers, slow burn, fluff, angst, etc. — each chapter will have separate warnings

WORD COUNT — 31,989

NOTES — AHH ITS FINALLY HERE!! i've been waiting for so long to do something like this and honestly despite how cliche and trope-y this fic is i love it to death

EXTRAS — town map | reader's house | brenda's house | newt's house

PLAYLISTS — youtube | spotify | apple

read on Wattpad | read on Ao3

chapter one — new beginnings

chapter two — parking lot introductions

chapter three — mickey's diner

chapter four — the willow tree

chapter five — late night shenanigans

chapter six — stargazing

chapter seven — bright lights, big city

chapter eight — saturday

chapter nine — suspicion

chapter ten — the bonfire

chapter eleven — o, atlas, pt. i

chapter twelve — o, atlas, pt. ii

chapter thirteen — welcome distractions

chapter fourteen — a rom-com happy ending

taglist: @heliads @ghostofscarley @badbatch-simp24 @virginia-peters @third-broparcelicito @lamolaine @yes-fangirl-things (open!)

#remember the nights #newt x reader #newt tmr x reader #newt x you #newt x y/n #newt series #newt tmr series #newt angst #newt fluff #the maze runner fanfiction #the maze runner x reader #au fic #high school au

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moonyswritinq · 1 year 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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xoxobellamy · 4 months ago

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THOMAS ~ TMR <3 🎀

D A T I N G - T H O M A S - I N C L U D E S

Nothings gonna hurt you baby [C.A.S]

🌷 High-school au 🌷

———————————— 🎀 ———————————

PDA like constantly holding your hand all the time, def one of those annoying couples making out in the hallway

You end up Third wheeling whenever you guys hangout with Newt

Being jealous of Teressa then ending up as besties

Angry Sex when you guys fight but after he’d treat you like a princess

Constant sleepovers

Skinny dipping in your/his pool

He gives you the best princess treatment

After care 10/10

cuddling>>>>>

going to the beach a lot

he’d def be in track or some type of running sport so you always go to his meets/whatever and support him

Rough sex when he’s angry

Getting matching pants like hello kitty or bat man

him adoring you CONSTANLYYYY

Secret make-out sessions in an empty classroom

Calling him tommy <3

Matching hickeys

Him being close with your little siblings

Him instantly falling in love every time he sees you

long hugs <3

———————————— 🎀 ———————————

I love Sti sm but Thomas has my hearttttt! I wanna do more one shots about him, also maybe some about newt lmk!!!

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lilacsnid · 10 months ago

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𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐎𝐈𝐀, theseus scamander

EUNOIA (n.)

beautiful thinking; a well mind.

Cursed to a life of darkness, Charlotte Gray's sight was stolen from her by the very hands of a man who was meant to protect her. Being in the wrong place at the wrong time, an innocent glimpse into the arcane mysteries of her father's world had sealed her fate, condemning her to a life without light.

Being drawn together by the threads of fate, Charlotte and Theseus forge an unexpected bond, their paths intertwining in ways neither of them could have foreseen.

𝐅𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐎𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐮𝐬 𝐒𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫

©𝐋𝐈𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐒𝐍𝐈𝐃 2024

#theseus scamander x reader #callum turner #fantastic beasts #newt scamander #theseus scamander #theseus scamander smut #hp fanfic #callum turner x reader #harry potter #theseus scamander imagine #crimes of grindelwald #albus dumbledore #gellert grindelwald #fantastic beats and where to find them #fantastic beats the crimes of grindelwald #theseus scamander fic

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ay0nha · 2 years ago

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Some Unholy War | Theseus Scamander (IV)

SUMMARY: Theseus was always talented in thinking clearly. Logically. He wanted you to be wrong, but your instincts pushed you to keep moving. It was the only way to stay one step ahead of Sinclair. It contrasted Theseus’ plan to stay put within the walls of the Ministry. You contrasted his very being.

PAIRING: Theseus Scamander x f!reader

WORD COUNT: 1.1K

WARNINGS: canon-typical things, flashback of sorts, mutual pining, semi enemies-to- lovers, always a protective Theseus, SLOW burn, etc.

A/N: HELLO. Again, this took me longer than I would have liked. So, rather than rushing it, I’m going to break it up into two parts...I’m going to take a lil break to get my head together, but I’m v excited in how this second part is going to go!!! So, stay tuned...As always, thank you, @kalllistos. Comments are always welcomed. Enjoy.

PART I, PART II, PART III

Effort was a comical notion.

Magic required it at times, just as breathing did. The effort now felt good, worth it. The icy air that reached the ends of your lungs stung. Yet, each breath was quieter, the effort only coming in the form of physical mechanics of pushing a warm breath back out that the air around you marked.

“Are you mad?” Theseus’ exclamation hadn’t taken any exertion. The pent-up anger almost made you flinch. Theseus yelled after you as you continued forward. He never begged you to stop; he told you. Sometimes you’d listen just to display your wit.

You were quiet, entering the idyllic fog, hoping it would swallow you whole.

“Keep up….” Your voice was airy, the instruction more for yourself. The memory was faded, your mind trying to hold onto it as it threatened to slip between your fingers.

It started in Theseus’ office—a muddled memory overlapping with the friction of everything around you. It was more a feeling, something foggy and unrestrained that called you forward. It felt a bit like apparating, where your body didn’t quite belong for the moments it took to find your footing again.

You scolded yourself for not seeing it clearly; that was the thing about divination.

Although studied meticulously, its real trait was its vitality. It shifted and molded. Evolved. It made even more concrete things seem like rubber, rejecting electricity with an uncanny ability to mold into shapes unknown. It was the type of thing that could be so exciting to happen just to become something so vague that it no longer held value to it.

Theseus’ words were drowned out as your ears produced a ringing. All you could hear was your shaky breaths, and all you could see was a faint familiarity with your surroundings. Even your stumbling steps backward felt practiced.

Your breath became labored as the hazy recollection returned. Even through the blur, you saw how the tips of his ears and nose burned red with frustration. It was a trait of his that remained as he rose so many inches he towered over you, and his hair curled the longer her let it grow.

The years did nothing to change it.

“This is it….” Your fingers fumbled with a curl at the nape of his neck. His hair was long, longer than he usually kept it. Time had gotten the better of him. How could you be so blind?

Theseus’ tirade wavered. He was supposed to be angry. He was supposed to do so many things, but your touch felt like an enchantment. It reminded him of how dangerous you could be.

The walnut of Theseus’ wand was always stiff, but it cast its spells briskly and powerfully. Ollivander told him it wasn’t rare to be drawn to the material, but it scarcely paired with dragon heartstring. Because of the extreme dominance of this wood, the core was stoic and gentle and had done Theseus well from the moment he received it. Yet, pressed against your chest to stall your next step, it felt that even the wand knew it was a misguided action.

“Don’t be foolish, Theseus.” You spat at the gesture. His wand only pressed into your chest as if trying to will away his emotions. “Don’t you recognize where we are?”

He shook his head. If he looked beside him, he knew he would crumble.

You tried to reason, “We couldn’t stay there. The Ministry—

“We’re going back.” Although his voice was steady, emotion wavered in his eyes. “I won’t fall into your trap. You can’t just—

“It’s too late.” You pushed forward, the wood digging into your clavicle with drive. “I’m ruined anyways.” The invariability of the words reflected your decision. “By your hand or his.”

Theseus was always talented in thinking clearly. Logically. He wanted you to be wrong, but your instincts pushed you to keep moving. It was the only way to stay one step ahead of Sinclair. It contrasted Theseus’ plan to stay within the Ministry's walls.

You contrasted his very being.

“Why did you bring me here?” Anger drifted from Theseus’ voice, and the space it abandoned was soon tenanted by something else—a kind of endearment, muslin light.

Theseus first brought you there for a quiet you didn’t know you needed. It was ambient full of croaking creatures and twigs snapping from the pressure of unknown forces. It was a blissful oasis that lured you into its dark depths.

The environment was damp, still reflecting the country’s dreariness. It was hidden, though. A broken-off path Theseus—well, Newt—had stumbled upon in childhood. It was a good hiding place to play, to sneak, and for you to abuse.

“I didn’t see it coming.” It felt strange to admit your best-hidden secret. “Any of it.” Your eyes remained on Theseus, willing trust to transfer. “But I just couldn’t—I knew deep down, I couldn’t lose everything.”

One time, you came to read Theseus’ palm under the full moon—a silly excuse to feel the weight of his hand in yours. The times following grew, the touches still shy with adolescence but bolder in a discovery of emotion.

The memory was a shared favorite, an inside joke of sorts to make the other feel warmth in your fingers that spread to the center of your chest. You hadn’t meant to bastardize it, but its safety was all you could rely on.

“But this, I saw this.” You would continue until Theseus understood. You had told him of your vision all those years ago. It was your only justifiable proof. “This needs to happen.”

Recognition flashed across his features.

Theseus dropped his wand with a tight breath. Looking to the sky, he became lost in turmoil. Once his gaze hit the dirt beneath his feet, it did nothing to aid him. You watched his fingers pull through the hair at the back of his head as if unraveling an answer.

You spoke when his hand fit over his mouth in frustration. “You promised me.”

“We were teenagers.” He snapped, denying the truth. “What did I know about prophecies?”

“Enough to believe me.” You felt young again, begging Theseus to revert with you. You wanted to hear his reassurances, his bold-faced vows to remain by your side despite the trouble you found.

That holiday, you told him everything—your plans to run away, the images that flashed in your dreams of the future, and how he centered them all as an essential turning point. It spilled out of you, and you couldn’t stop. At the time, the swampy place was at the core unbeknownst.

If Theseus had known, he may not have regretted the promise to always be there for you. No questions asked. It sounded embarrassingly naive. You could still hear how desperately he wanted you to believe him. Even then, you knew it would lead to something like this.

Even then, just as now, you diminished how well Theseus knew you. “What aren’t you telling me?”

#q #theseus scamander x reader #theseus scamander fluff #theseus scamander angst #theseus scamander x f!reader #theseus scamander #theseus #scamander #fantastic beasts fic #theseus scamander fantastic beasts #newt scamander x reader

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thatdammchickennugget · 18 days ago

Text

A Bit Mad

pairing -newt x fem!reader

summary - you were just looking for aris. you really weren't planning on falling on some cute british guy. or on breaking out of WCKD at his side.

warnings - kinda sarcastic!reader, cursing, lots of running and chasing, guns

a/n - somehow the little blurb idea I had about reader falling onto newt from the vents turned into this thing, so I guess I'm doing the whole scorch trials now?

wordcount - 6k

The first thing you noticed when you woke up was that Aris was gone.

The vent above his bunk was wide open, the metal grate barely hanging on, swinging slightly as if mocking you.

You groaned, running a hand down your face. “Seriously?”

You weren’t surprised. Annoyed? Yes. Surprised? Not even a little. This wasn’t the first time Aris had taken it upon himself to go sneaking around, and if you had to guess, it wouldn’t be the last.

Still, he could’ve at least woken you up first. You would have gone with him. You always did.

Swinging your legs over the side of your bed, you sighed and stretched. The facility was dead silent, the only sound being the faint hum of the dim overhead lights and the occasional creak echoing through the vent shaft.

You glanced at the opening again, debating.

Go back to sleep and let the dumbass get himself into whatever ridiculous mess he was about to stumble into?

Or…

You exhaled.

“Dammit, Aris.”

Climbing onto his bed, you grabbed the edge of the vent and hoisted yourself up. It was a tight fit, but not unbearable. By now you had spent enough time in small spaces that it didn’t bother you anymore.

You started forward, moving on your hands and knees, the metal creaking softly beneath you.

And that was when everything went wrong.

One second, you were crawling over a vent opening—another room’s, from the looks of it. The next, the panel gave out, and suddenly you were falling.

There was a muffled oof beneath you as you landed, and before you could process what just happened, you realized—

You had landed on someone.

A very solid, very warm someone.

Your brain barely had time to catch up before the person beneath you let out a sharp breath.

“What the bloody—”

You jerked upright—well, as upright as you could manage while straddling a very confused blond boy and trying not to hit your head on the still swinging vent cover above you.

The low light in the room was just enough for you to make out his wide, startled eyes. His face was barely a few inches from yours, and even in the dark, you could see the way his ears were turning red.

Oh.

Well, this was…awkward.

You opened your mouth to say something—anything—when he suddenly made a strangled noise, hands hovering awkwardly in the air, as if unsure whether to push you off or just accept his fate.

“I—” he stammered, blinking rapidly. “Did you—did you just fall from the vent?”

You huffed, still recovering from your own shock. “No, I meant to drop in unannounced.”

The boy blinked again. Then, to your complete and utter disbelief, he laughed.

It was quiet, barely more than a breath, but it was there.

“I—” he exhaled, shaking his head as if trying to wake himself up from a particularly strange dream. “Well, that’s one way to meet someone.��

It was then that you realized neither of you had moved.

You were still on top of him.

You inhaled sharply and scrambled off him to the foot of the bed, your entire body now alight with embarrassment.

“Sorry,” you muttered quickly, not quite sure what to do with yourself.

“No, no, you’re good,” the boy said, sitting up and rubbing the back of his head. His hair was a mess from sleep, but somehow, that only made him look even more unfairly attractive.

He looked up at you again, curiosity flickering in his eyes. “So…who are you, exactly? And why are you falling from the ceiling?”

You hesitated. “I, uh—I was looking for someone.”

His brows rose. “In the vents?”

“Yes,” you deadpanned. “Because that’s the logical place to look for someone.”

Another chuckle. “Right. And who, exactly, were you looking for?”

“My friend. Aris.”

He tilted his head slightly, considering the name. “And you thought you’d find them in here?”

You shrugged. “Well not specifically here in this room. Falling on you wasn’t exactly my plan. I don’t know where he went. But sneaking off is kind of his thing, and usually, I go with him, so…” You gestured vaguely to the open vent above you. “I went looking.”

Newt hummed, eyes flicking toward the ceiling. “In the middle of the night?”

“Yes,” you said, dead serious. “Because that’s the best time for a casual vent stroll.”

He snorted, shaking his head. “You’re a bit mad, aren’t you?”

“I fell through a vent and landed on you. I think we established that already.”

Newt exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, guess we did.”

Another silence settled between you, and for the first time since you dropped in—literally—you let yourself take in your surroundings. The room looked exactly like yours, filled with several bunks. The only difference being that almost each of the bunks was occupied by sleeping figures. It smelled faintly of sweat and metal—nothing surprising, considering the circumstances.

These had to be the new arrivals. You’d heard about them earlier in the day but hadn’t paid them much mind. You and Aris kept to yourselves for the most part, sticking to what little familiarity you had left.

But now you were here, in a room full of strangers, talking to one of them like this was a completely normal way to meet someone.

Newt shifted slightly, drawing your attention back to him. His expression had softened a little, his curiosity still apparent. “So… you’re from another group, then?”

“Yeah.”

“And how long have you been here?”

You hesitated. “Long enough.”

Newt’s gaze lingered on yours for a beat longer than expected, like he wanted to press for more but decided against it.

Instead, he pushed himself up into a sitting position and leaned back against the wall, arms crossed. “And this is your thing, then?”

You blinked. “What?”

“Dropping in on poor blokes unannounced.”

You rolled your eyes. “No. Just thought I’d give it a try tonight.”

“Well, lucky me, then,” he said, another quiet laugh pushing past his lips.

You huffed, shaking your head, but before you could say anything else, a muffled groan came from one of the other bunks, and you both froze.

Newt’s head snapped toward the noise, his entire body going still. A boy shifted slightly in his sleep, then fell silent again.

Still, it was a reminder—you weren’t supposed to be here.

You exhaled. “Alright, well, this has been great. Truly. But I should probably get going before someone else wakes up and thinks I’m trying to murder you or something.”

Newt turned back to you, one brow raised. “And how exactly do you plan on leaving?”

You pointed up. He followed your gaze to the still-open vent.

Then, with something close to amusement, he looked back at you. “You’re joking.”

You sighed. “No, I’m not joking. That’s how I got in, so that’s how I’m getting out.”

Newt blinked at you. “You do realize you just fell through the bloody thing, right?”

“Yes,” you said flatly. “And now I’m going back up. Hopefully without the falling part this time.”

He let out an incredulous laugh, rubbing a hand down his face. “You really are mad, I swear.”

“Maybe.” You adjusted your position on the bed, glancing at the headboard. “Now, if you could just—”

Before you could even finish, Newt sighed and got on his knees. “Yeah, yeah. Here.”

He shuffled closer and, hesitantly, placed a steadying hand on your waist as you climbed up. You ignored the way your breath hitched slightly at the contact, focusing instead on gripping the vent’s edge and hoisting yourself up.

With a little effort, you managed to wriggle back into the cramped space, your elbows scraping against the cool metal.

Once you were secure, you glanced down at him.

Newt was still looking up at you, arms crossed, head tilted.

“Well,” he said, smirking slightly. “Try not to drop in again, yeah?”

You narrowed your eyes. “No promises.”

He huffed, shaking his head but you caught the smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

You started crawling forward but hesitated just before disappearing from view. Something about him stuck with you—maybe the sarcasm, maybe the fact that at first, he seemed almost more embarrassed about the whole situation than you were.

Or maybe it was just the way he looked at you, like he was already trying to figure you out.

Either way, you had a feeling this wouldn’t be the last time you saw him.

.・。.・゜✭・.

The cafeteria was buzzing with quiet conversation, the dull clatter of trays and silverware filling the space as the Gladers sat at their table.

Newt wasn’t eating much—none of them were, really. Something about this place still felt…off.

Jansen stood at the front of the room, calling out names, escorting kids through those large metal doors, promising them safety.

No matter how much he wanted to and tried to push that nagging feeling away, Newt didn’t fully trust him.

And neither did Thomas, apparently.

“I know exactly what we saw.,” Thomas muttered, leaning in closer.

Newt shot him a look. “I thought we agreed to keep this low, Thomas.”

Thomas ignored him. “I’m telling you, something’s wrong. There were bodies—”

“Alright, alright,” Minho hissed, cutting him off. He glanced around, making sure no one was listening. “You really think talking about this here is a good idea?”

Thomas exhaled sharply, lowering his voice further. “I’m just saying, something is wrong. We need to get out of here.”

Newt sighed, rubbing his temples.

Frypan frowned, shifting in his seat. “Wait, back up. You said we. Who the hell did you go sneaking around with?”

Thomas glanced over at another table. “Aris.”

Newt, who had been taking a sip of water, nearly choked. He coughed, setting his cup down with a clatter as his brain caught up.

My friend. Aris.

He snapped his head up, following Thomas’ gaze as he pointed the boy out across the cafeteria.

And there you were. Sitting beside Aris, picking at your food, looking completely unbothered. And then, as if you could feel him staring, you turned.

Your eyes met his, and for a second, Newt just…froze.

Then, to his complete disbelief—

You smiled. And waved.

Minho, who had definitely not missed any of that, smirked. “Uh…what the shuck was that?”

Newt blinked, still caught somewhere between confusion and disbelief. “What?”

“That,” Frypan said, pointing between you and Newt. “Why is some random girl over there smiling at you like she knows you?”

Newt felt warmth creeping up his neck, the tips of his ears surely burning by now. He scrambled for a response, but all that came out was a useless, “I—she—”

Minho leaned in, eyes glinting with amusement. “You already got a girlfriend we don’t know about, Newt?”

Newt scowled, willing his heartbeat to slow. “Don’t be stupid.”

Frypan raised an eyebrow. “She seemed pretty happy to see you. You sure you don’t know her?”

Newt opened his mouth, then closed it. Technically, know was a strong word. He’d met you—though in the strangest, most unfortunate way possible.

His silence only made things worse. Minho grinned, leaning back in his chair with an all-too-pleased expression. “Huh. Interesting.”

Newt groaned. “Look, she—” He cut himself off, shook his head. There was no way he was going to explain that story. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It kinda does,” Minho teased. “Because now I wanna know why some girl we’ve never seen before is all smiley at your sorry face.”

Newt gritted his teeth, forcing himself to not look in your direction again. “Okay. But back to what Thomas was talking about.” He exhaled, trying to get the conversation back on track. “Until we know anything for certain, we should just keep our heads down and try not to draw any attention to ourselves, alright?”

And of course, just as he finished that sentence—

Thomas pushed back from the table and stood abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor.

Newt frowned. “What is he doing?”

Minho didn’t even hesitate. “I think he’s drawing attention to himself.”

Newt exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down his face as Thomas stormed off.

Brilliant. Just bloody brilliant.

.・。.・゜✭・.

They were thrown back into the room, the heavy metal door slamming shut behind them.

Newt barely had time to turn before he rounded on Thomas. “What the hell was that about?” His voice was low, sharp. Thomas exhaled, still visibly tense. “You don’t really think they were just going to let you through?”

“No, of course I didn’t.” Thomas shook his head, jaw tight. “I’m going to find out what’s on the other side of that door.”

Newt let out a humorless laugh. “Alright.”

“Newt, they’re hiding something. Okay, these people are not who they say they are.”

“No, Thomas, you don’t know that.” Newt took a step closer, frustration bleeding into his tone. “The only thing we do know is that they helped rescue us from WCKD. They gave us new clothes, they gave us food, they gave us a proper bed.” His voice dipped slightly, quieter now. “Some of us haven’t had that in a long time.”

Thomas opened his mouth, trying to get a word in. “Yeah, but you—”

Newt cut him off, voice thick with something unreadable. “Some of us a lot longer than others.”

Before the tension could thicken further, there was a sharp metallic creak above them. The vent cover flew open.

Newt barely had time to step back before a figure dropped down into the room.

Aris.

“Hey, Thomas,” he said, straightening up as if he hadn’t just appeared out of nowhere.

Newt blinked, then scoffed. “What the…”

Aris ignored him, turning to Thomas. “You get it, right?”

Thomas didn’t hesitate. “Yeah, let’s go.” He turned to Newt and the others. “Alright, look—maybe you guys are right. Maybe I’m just being paranoid. But I gotta find out for sure. Just cover for me. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

Before anyone could argue, Thomas climbed up into the vent after Aris. And before Newt could even begin to process what had just happened—

Another figure appeared at the vent opening.

You.

Newt stiffened. “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.”

You offered the group of boys a bright smile, trying not to laugh at their confused faces as they stared up at you, then glanced back at Newt, a small smirk pulling at your lips.

“Sorry, not dropping in this time. I’d tell you not to miss me too much, but we both know that’s going to be difficult,” you teased before vanishing into the shaft after Thomas and Aris.

Newt just stood there. Still. Silent. His brain was short-circuiting.

Frypan, clapped him on his shoulder and snorted. “Yeah. No way you’re living this down.”

Newt groaned, dragging a hand down his face. He was so done with this night.

.・。.・゜✭・.

The vent cover slammed open, and three figures dropped down into the room in quick succession. Thomas hit the ground first, his breathing ragged, panic evident in his every move. Aris followed, looking shaken. You were last, landing lightly but with a tense expression.

Newt immediately stood from where he had been sitting, brows furrowing. “Thomas!”

“We got to go.” Thomas barely looked at him as he rushed toward one of the beds, yanking a blanket off in one swift motion.

Minho frowned. “What’s up?”

“We got to go. Right now!” Thomas’ voice was urgent, frantic. He yanked the blanket tight and dragged it toward the door.

Newt stepped forward. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“What do you mean we got to go?” Frypan added, looking from Thomas to Aris to you.

Thomas didn’t answer. Instead, he grabbed Newt’s arm, tugging him toward the door. “They’re coming. Come on, we got to go.”

Newt pulled his arm free, frustrated. “Thomas, just slow down and—”

“They’re coming for us!” Thomas cut him off, looping the sheet around the door handles and pulling it tight.

Newt exchanged a tense glance with the others before turning to Aris. “What happened out there?”

Aris just shook his head, not even sure where to start.

Minho looked at Thomas. “Can you just calm down and talk to us?”

Thomas exhaled sharply, hands shaking as he turned back to them. Finally, his eyes met Newt’s.

“She’s still alive.”

“Teresa?” Newt asked, though something told him that wasn’t it.

Thomas shook his head. His next words were barely above a whisper.

“Ava.”

The room went silent.

Newt stared at him, unblinking. “Ava?”

Minho took a step closer. “Would you just turn around and talk to us?”

Thomas swallowed hard, his voice tight with barely contained frustration. “It’s WCKD. It’s still WCKD. It’s always been WCKD.”

Newt felt the weight of those words settle over all of them.

“Thomas.” His voice was low now, steady despite the anxiety clawing at his chest. “What did you see?”

Thomas shook his head again, not answering.

Then—

A distant click. A shadow shifting under the door.

Thomas’s head snapped up, and just like that—

“Come on, come on, come on,” he whispered, already moving toward the vent.

No one argued.

Minho climbed up first, pulling himself inside before reaching back for the next person. Frypan followed, muttering curses under his breath. Then you went, moving quickly through the tight space. Aris was right behind you, already scrambling forward.

Newt was the last to go. He hesitated, looking back once—at the room, at the door, at the supposed safety they had been given.

Then, he turned, grabbed the edge of the vent, and pulled himself inside.

.・。.・゜✭・.

The group dropped down one by one from the vent into a dimly lit hallway, landing as quietly as they could manage. Thomas was the first to go, crouching as he scanned the area before motioning the others down.

“Alright, come on, come on!” he urged in a hushed voice, hurrying them along.

Just as they started moving, Aris hesitated, then took a step in the opposite direction. “You guys go ahead,” he said, glancing down the hall. “There’s something I need to do.”

Thomas frowned, stepping toward him. “What are you talking about?”

You looked at Aris, alarmed. He couldn’t just run off alone—not now.

“Trust me,” Aris insisted. “It’s important. You guys wanna get out of here, right? Just go!”

Winston glanced at Thomas, then back at Aris. “I’ll go with him.”

You opened your mouth to protest, ready to go with Aris too, but he turned to you before you could.

“Stick with them,” he said, voice firm but not unkind. “I’ll be fine.”

You didn’t like it. Not one bit. But after a brief pause, you gave a reluctant nod, stepping back as Aris and Winston turned and disappeared down the hallway.

No time to dwell on it. Thomas ushered the rest of you forward, and you ran. Rounding a corner at full speed, you almost crashed into a woman in a lab coat. She stopped short, eyes wide.

“What are you kids doing out?” she demanded.

None of you answered. No one had time to come up with an excuse, because before you could so much as open your mouth—

The alarms blared.

The piercing sound shot through the halls like a siren of impending doom.

Without thinking, you lunged forward, grabbing the doctor by the arm. She let out a startled noise, but Thomas was right there with you, helping you pull her along as the rest of the group took off running.

You weaved through corridors, feet pounding against the floor. Every turn looked the same, but there was no time to think, just run.

Then you rounded another corner—

And froze.

A soldier stood at the far end of the hallway, gun already raised.

“Freeze!” he barked. “Stay where you are!”

The click of the trigger sent adrenaline surging through your veins. Then—gunfire.

You barely had time to react before someone grabbed you, yanking you behind the wall just as bullets struck the floor where you had been standing. You stumbled but felt Newt’s hands steadying you before he pushed you back, shielding you as the group ducked for cover.

“Go, go, go!” Thomas hissed.

Everyone turned to run back the way they came—except Minho.

He stopped short, glancing between the corner and the rest of you.

“Minho!” Newt snapped.

But the boy had already made up his mind.

Without a second thought, he pivoted, sprinted straight for the corner—and launched himself at the soldier. His foot connected solidly with the man’s chest, sending him flying back onto the floor with a stunned grunt.

You gawked.

“That was awesome!” you blurted out, breathless.

“Shit, Minho,” Newt muttered, half impressed, half exasperated.

Thomas didn’t waste time. He rushed forward, grabbing the soldier’s gun before looking back at all of you. “Come on, let’s go!”

.・。.・゜✭・.

Reaching a room with several scientists inside, you barely had time to catch your breath before Thomas grabbed the doctor and shoved her forward.

“Open it,” he ordered, voice low but urgent.

The woman hesitated but had no choice, pressing her ID to the scanner. The door slid open.

“Dr. Crawford, are you here to—”

The scientist’s words died in his throat as Thomas shoved the doctor the rest of the way in, barging in after her with the gun raised.

“Where is she?” Thomas demanded, his voice sharp, desperate. “Where is she?!”

The scientists all flinched, hands half-raised in surrender, but none of them answered fast enough.

Your eyes darted around the room before landing on something in the corner—movement behind a curtain.

“Thomas!” you called, motioning toward it.

Thomas’s gaze snapped to you before following where you were pointing. Without hesitation, he thrust the gun into Minho’s hands and ran toward the curtain. You watched as he yanked it open, revealing a girl lying on a hospital bed, looking pale but slowly waking up.

“Teresa,” Thomas breathed, stepping closer and touching her shoulder gently. “Come on, we need to go.”

While he focused on her, Minho turned his glare back on the scientists, keeping the gun trained on them.

“Get down. All of you,” he ordered.

As they hesitantly obeyed, you and Newt wasted no time. You lunged for a nearby supply cart, grabbing some bandages while Newt stepped in front of one of the scientists.

“Hands out,” he said, voice firm.

The scientist hesitated, but when you shot him a glare and held up the makeshift restraints, he complied. You quickly tied his wrists, moving to the next one as Newt did the same.

“Guys!” Frypan’s voice rang out from the doorway, panicked. “They’re coming! Where do we go?”

Your heart lurched.

Newt sprang into action. “Fry, move!”

He shoved a heavy lab table forward, slamming it against the door just as the first impact hit from the other side. Soldiers were ramming into it, trying to break through.

Minho cursed, yanking you and Newt back behind him as he aimed the gun at the door.

“Alright, we gotta get out of here!” he barked.

Your eyes darted around, heart pounding. There had to be another way—

Then you spotted it. The glass separating this room from the next.

Without thinking, you grabbed a chair. “Stand back!” you shouted before hurling it at the glass. It hit with a loud thud but didn’t break.

Newt caught on immediately. He rushed to your side, grabbed another chair, and together, you slammed them into the glass again.

Crack.

A spiderweb of fractures spread across the surface.

Once more and it shattered. The glass rained down in sharp shards, and you coughed as dust and particles filled the air.

“Go!” Thomas shouted. He was already helping Teresa toward the low divider.

Newt was the first to climb over. He turned, reaching back for you. You grabbed his hands, letting him pull you up and over before dropping down onto the other side.

One by one, the others followed.

Minho was last, tossing the gun back to Thomas before leaping over.

“Let’s go!” Thomas yelled. “Stay behind me!”

You sprinted after him, your breath ragged as you bolted into the next hallway. A soldier appeared right in front of you, raising his gun.

For a split second, your body froze in terror. But Thomas didn’t. Before the soldier could react, the boy pulled the trigger.

A bolt of electricity shot forward, striking the man. He convulsed violently, eyes wide with shock, before collapsing onto the floor, twitching.

Your breath caught, but there was no time to process it. Because at the end of the hall—

The exit.

“There it is!” Thomas shouted, his voice sharp.

You pushed yourself harder, legs burning as you sprinted toward it. Thomas reached the door first, yanking a stolen keycard from his pocket and swiping it against the panel.

Nothing.

He swiped it again.

Still nothing.

“Shit, come on! No, no, no, no!” he hissed, slamming his hand against the reader in frustration.

“Thomas,” a slow, deliberate voice cut through the panic.

You turned sharply at the sound of the familiar voice. Jansen.

He approached with a small army of soldiers at his back, their weapons already raised.

Thomas instinctively stepped in front of all of you, raising his gun and aiming it directly at Jansen’s head. You weren’t sure if the shake in his hands was from adrenaline or fear.

“Open the door, Jansen!” he barked.

Jansen’s expression didn’t shift. He just sighed, almost like he was disappointed. “You really don’t want me to.”

“Open the door!”

Jansen took another step forward, hands raised, like he was trying to calm a wild animal.

“Listen to me,” he continued, voice smooth, calculated. “I’m trying to save your life. The Maze was one thing, but you kids wouldn’t last a day out in the Scorch.”

Thomas’s grip on the gun tightened, but Jansen kept talking.

“If the elements don’t kill you, the Cranks will.” His voice dipped lower, gaze steady. “You have to believe me. I only want what’s best for you.”

A cold, sinking feeling settled in your stomach.

Thomas didn’t move. He just stared at Jansen, breathing hard. “Yeah, let me guess.” His voice dripped with bitterness. “WCKD is good?”

Jansen’s hands slowly dropped to his sides. There it was.

“You’re not getting through that door, Thomas,” he said, finality in his tone.

But then—

Beep. Beep. Beep.

The door’s keypad lit up. The locks disengaged. The heavy metal doors slid up, revealing two familiar faces waiting on the other side.

“Hey, guys,” Aris greeted, completely unfazed.

Frypan didn’t hesitate. “Come on!” He started ushering everyone through.

Newt didn’t hesitate to push you through, turning back to look at his friend. “Thomas, let’s go!”

But Thomas wasn’t done.

Without warning, he pulled the trigger, firing at the soldiers. You flinched at the deafening shots.

Click. The gun was empty.

“Shuck,” Thomas muttered before throwing the weapon to the ground and spinning on his heel, sprinting for the door.

It was already sliding shut again.

He wasn’t going to make it.

“Thomas!” you shouted along with the others.

At the last second, he dived forward, throwing himself into a slide. His body barely cleared the gap before the doors slammed shut with a heavy clang.

Minho and Newt reached down and grabbed his arm, helping haul him up alongside the others.

Heart still racing, you spotted a loose piece of metal on the ground. Without thinking, you snatched it up and swung, slamming it into the door’s keypad as hard as you could. Sparks flew. The screen flickered, then went dark.

Minho didn’t waste a second, grabbing a new weapon from a fallen soldier before turning to the rest of you.

“Let’s go!”

No one argued. With no time to catch your breath, you ran—out into the Scorch.

.・。.・゜✭・.

The air inside the abandoned building was stale, filled with dust and the lingering scent of decay. The storm outside still howled, wind rattling the shattered windows above, but at least in here, you were safe. For now.

You slung the backpack over one shoulder, stuffing more clothing inside as you wandered through the almost empty aisles. Most of the shelves had been picked clean, but you still managed to find a few useful things—jackets, gloves, even a somewhat clean looking water canteen.

As you rounded a corner, you nearly collided with someone.

Newt.

He had also changed into something more practical—a long-sleeved shirt with a thick, brown jacket over it. The sleeves were slightly too long, the collar a bit worn, but—

“Well, don’t you look dashing,” you teased, smirking as you leaned against the nearby counter.

Newt scoffed, but you didn’t miss the way his ears tinged pink. “Oh, shut up.”

You grinned. “No, really. Very rugged. Very—‘wandering lost soul in a post-apocalyptic wasteland’.”

That got a laugh out of him. He shook his head, rummaging through a pile of abandoned clothes. “Glad to know I’ve got a look going.”

“You should own it,” you replied, picking up a couple more items and shoving them into your bag. “Who knows, maybe we’ll run into some civilization, and you’ll charm them with your very fashionable dirt-and-despair aesthetic.”

Newt gave you a flat look. “You done?”

You hummed, pretending to think about it. “Yeah, I think so.”

As you continued your search, something caught your eye—a bundle of fabric buried under a pile of clothes. You pulled it free and unrolled it.

Bandanas.

A small smirk tugged at your lips as you turned to Newt and tossed one at him. He caught it with a frown, holding it up like it was some foreign object.

“What exactly do you expect me to do with this?” he asked.

You raised an eyebrow. “You do know how sand works, right?”

Newt blinked. “I—”

You gestured vaguely. “Wind blows, sand flies, it gets in your eyes, your nose, your mouth. That?” You pointed at the bandana in his hand. “Could help with that.”

Realization dawned, and he nodded slowly. “Ah. Right. Good thinking.”

He unfolded the fabric and awkwardly tied it around his face, covering his nose and mouth. When he turned back to you, standing there with only his eyes visible, you couldn't help it. You laughed.

“What?” he asked, voice slightly muffled.

“You look like you’re about to rob the place.”

Newt rolled his eyes and pulled the bandana down around his neck. “Well, if we’re going for the whole bandit thing, might as well go all in.”

You grinned. “Exactly. Now all you need is a cowboy hat and a dramatic backstory.”

Newt smirked, shaking his head. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And yet, you’re still standing here talking to me,” you shot back.

He opened his mouth, then closed it again, clearly having no good comeback. With a small chuckle, he grabbed a few more supplies and stuffed them into his own bag.

“Well,” he said, slinging the strap over his shoulder, “come on then, partner. Let’s see what else we can find before the others start wondering where we are.”

You grinned, adjusting your backpack. “After you, Sheriff.”

The two of you made your way back toward the others, weaving through darkened aisles and abandoned debris. When you reached the main floor of the building, you saw Frypan and Teresa rummaging through shelves, while Aris and Winston inspected a pile of canned goods they must have scrounged up.

"Find anything good?" Frypan asked, glancing up.

"Some clothes, a few supplies," you answered, patting your backpack.

Newt shrugged. "Could be worse."

You glanced around, realizing two people were still missing. "Where's Minho and Thomas?"

Teresa shook her head. "Not back yet."

As if on cue, the overhead lights suddenly flickered to life, buzzing loudly as they illuminated the vast, abandoned space. Everyone froze, glancing up in confusion.

"Did… did the power just turn on?" Aris murmured.

Before anyone could answer, the distant sound of pounding footsteps reached your ears—fast, frantic.

"RUN!"

Minho's voice.

You all turned just in time to see Minho and Thomas sprinting toward you at full speed, panic etched on their faces.

"What the hell—" Newt started, but then you saw it. A horde of them.

Pale, twitching figures, moving unnaturally fast, their limbs jerking as they scrambled over debris in pursuit of your friends. Bloodied, mindless, and fast.

Cranks.

"GO, GO!" Thomas shouted, pushing Minho forward as they barreled toward the group.

No one needed to be told twice. You all bolted, adrenaline flooding your veins as your feet pounded against the dusty floor.

The creatures shrieked, the sound sending ice through your spine.

Your breath came fast as you ran, weaving around overturned shelves, your backpack bouncing against your back. Newt was right beside you, limping but hot on your heels, his expression tense.

"They’re too bloody fast!" he shouted.

"Just keep moving!" you yelled back.

The group was ahead, dodging through broken glass and shattered displays, but the Cranks were gaining. You could feel them behind you, hear their gasping, ragged breaths.

Suddenly, Newt let out a strangled yell as something tackled him from the side.

Your heart lurched. "Newt!"

You skidded to a stop, spinning around as the Crank snarled and clawed at him, its grotesque, decayed face just inches from his own.

Without thinking, you kicked it hard in the side, sending it tumbling off of him. Newt scrambled back, gasping, as you grabbed his arm and hauled him to his feet.

"Come on!" you urged.

But the delay had cost you both.

The others had already disappeared through a side exit, their shouts fading into the distance. You and Newt turned just in time to see another wave of Cranks pouring into the building, blocking your path to the rest of the group.

Shit.

"This way!" Newt grabbed your wrist, yanking you toward a different direction.

The two of you ran blindly, dodging fallen beams and overturned shelves, Cranks hot on your heels. Your lungs burned, your muscles screamed, but you couldn’t stop.

Up ahead, the building's shattered front wall revealed the desert beyond—endless sand dunes stretching beneath the darkening sky.

"Through there!" you panted.

Newt nodded, and together, you pushed forward, bursting through a broken doorway and stumbling into the open. The wind hit you immediately, thick with dust, the remains of the storm still raging in the distance.

"Over there!" Newt pointed to a massive, half-buried metal structure jutting out of the sand. It looked like a collapsed billboard or maybe a piece of an old building.

The two of you sprinted for it, the Cranks still close behind.

You threw yourself under the metal at the same time as Newt, hitting the ground hard and rolling onto your side. He landed next to you, both of you gasping for air.

The creatures shrieked, but they didn’t follow you into the sand. Instead, they stopped just outside the ruins, their twitching forms silhouetted against the dim light. They paced and snarled but didn’t step further.

Newt exhaled shakily, his forehead resting against his knees. "Bloody hell."

You let out a weak, breathless laugh. "Yeah. No kidding."

For a moment, you both just sat there, catching your breath, staring out at the wasteland stretching before you.

Separated from the others. Stranded in the middle of the Scorch. With no idea where to go next.

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ateotd-izzy · 2 years ago

Text

maroon | thomas x fem!reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

☾

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“oh.”

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

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

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

thomas.

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

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

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

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

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

“okay.” you stared.

“see you around, y/n.”

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

“thomas.”

“see you around, thomas.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

thomas held your hand the whole time.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

kissing.

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

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

your heart was broken.

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

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

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

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

he looked at you. he was confused.

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

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

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

you had seen brenda kiss him.

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

“you okay?” she asked.

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

then he ran out of the tent.

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

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

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

“y/n?”

you looked up and thomas realized you had been crying.

“what?”

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

“you okay?”

“i’m fine.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“then why—?”

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

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

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

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

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

“i know. i was kidding.”

you grabbed his hand and interlocked your fingers.

“i’m sorry.” he apologized.

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

“yeah, but i could’ve said something sooner.”

“when?” you asked. “when you were passed out? or when we were almost shot by mountain people?”

he chuckled. “okay, maybe not. but—”

“tommy, i get it. don’t worry.”

the feeling of freedom and happiness that evening was short lived, and soon became a nightmare.

teresa betrayed them, wicked burned the camp to the ground, and multiple people were taken.

sonya, aris, minho and you.

thomas had lost you. he had lost the battle. but he was determined to get you and minho and everyone else back.

he would do anything he could. he would do whatever it took to get you back.

taglist: @brvceyamada

a/n: why don’t these ever turn out like they sounded in my head LMAO

#thomas x reader #the maze runner #the scorch trials #the death cure #tmr x reader #tmr thomas #tmr thomas x reader #thomas #tmr minho #tmr newt #gally #tmr gally #tmr teresa #dylan o’brien x reader #dylan o'brien #tmr fic #tmr chuck

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