#tmrfic

[monttagues]

Hey I know you did this for someone else not to long ago,but I was wondering if you could write another Nalby smut. It would make me the happiest person in the world if you did!!!! Thanks

i just quickly want to add this is the first tmr fic i’ve writen in like. 4 or 5 years maybe. so there: have it. is there a fandom left to appreciate this? 

For their first date, Newt and Alby go out to get some drinks. Alby is so nervous he drops his jacket, his wallet (twice), and the glass of beer he was holding, spilling it all over Newt’s lap. Newt takes it all in stride, tells Alby it's fine and he shouldn’t worry so much. Then, with a wink, he adds their second date should take place somewhere safe. Maybe Alby’s place? Or Newt’s? He’s flexible.

Alby doesn’t take the bait. 

And that’s fine, really. Newt’s more than happy to take this thing at whatever speed Alby’s comfortable with. He’d been dropping hints for weeks when Alby suddenly realised Newt was serious about going out together. So what if they take things slow, take a couple of dates to get to know each other better. 

Their second date is the movie theater. Alby doesn’t drop things this time, but when Newt reaches over in the dark to hold his hand, he notices Alby’s hand are sweaty. 

“I’m sorry,” Alby mumbles. 

Newt just gives his hand another squeeze and holds it for the rest of the movie. Afterwards, he grabs it again on their walk home, and Alby smiles at him. 

The third date is dinner. Alby’s the one to reach out and lace his fingers with Newt’s this time. They split dessert. Alby occasionally feeds Newt a little bite of their chocolate brownie, making Newt smile, and when it’s all finished, Alby brings Newt’s hand to his mouth and presses a kiss to his knuckles. It absolutely makes Newt blush, which surprises him. 

Date four is a picnic in the park. Alby feeds him strawberries this time. When Alby lies down, Newt decides to use his chest as a pillow. Alby plays with his hair and tells him about all the places he’d like to visit. The cities he wants to see, the countries he wants to discover. 

When the sun begins to set, they gather their things and walk home again, holding hands. Alby drops Newt off at his place, says goodbye, takes a second to lean in and lean back again. Then leans in again and presses a kiss to Newt’s lips. Just a quick one, lasting maybe a few seconds. They’re both smiling when Alby leaves. 

Hiking marks date five, and another movie is date six. More kisses happen. Alby cups Newt’s cheek now when they make out. Newt sits close to him, rests his hand on Alby’s shoulder when he gets the chance. They hold hands, a lot. 

For date seven, Alby invites Newt over. 

Weeks ago, Newt would have thought that’s a clear invitation. You go on a date, you kiss, you go back to the apartment, you have sex. Isn’t that how it goes?

Now, the thought doesn’t even cross his mind. He doens’t even consider it when he knocks on Alby’s door, happy to keep the slow pace they’ve set. Kissing Alby is amazing, being close to him is wonderful, getting to know him honestly is a gift, no matter how sappy that sounds. 

Alby has cooked dinner for them, and Newt eats is all with a healthy appetite. It’s delicious, Alby’s gorgeous, it’s a great date. 

So it’s a surprise when, long after they’ve finished eating, after they’ve moved to the couch, after they’ve been making out for a while, Alby suddenly asks him: “do you want to stay over?” 

It could be taken a couple of ways, but Alby’s bashful look, nervous fingers, and tentative smile say it all. 

Newt’s so surprised it takes him a second to react. “Oh. Um. Yes!” he says, but his hesitation makes Alby frown.

“We don’t... have to...” he starts. 

Newt interrupts him with a shake of his head. “No, no! That’s not it! I didn’t think you’d ask,” he says.

“Well... you did say you wanted to go back to my place.”

Newt smiles, gives Alby another kiss. “You’re right, I did. And I do.” 

They kiss again, they smile some more. Newt lets his hands wander, now he knows Alby wants. He moves to sit on Alby’s lap, feels Alby’s hands on his hips, then his ass, smiles into their kiss. 

“This is nice,” Alby whispers, words almost lost between their lips. 

Newt makes a sound of agreement and tilts his head to kiss Alby again. 

When Alby’s hand start to wander under Newt’s shirt, when Newt starts to grind down on Alby’s lap, when they’re both breathing hard into each other’s mouth; that’s when they decide they should move this from the couch to the bedroom. 

Alby leads the way, holding on to Newt’s hand. When the bedroom door closes behind them, Alby is first to take his own shirt off. Newt follows his lead. 

Alby takes of his pants, gets them tangled around his shoes, has to sit down on the edge of the bed to take them off properly. “Well. That’s awkward.” 

Newt laughs, a soft and fond sound. He kicks his shoes off first, and then drops his pants. His underwear is next. He climbs back onto Alby’s lap. “If you kiss me again, I might forget.”

Alby kisses him again, with newfound determination. 

It doens’t take long for them to get back in the mood. Newt lets his hands explore, touches Alby wherever he can reach, and Alby does the same to him. They kiss until they can’t breathe, until they’re pressing closer to each other, Newt clutching Alby’s shoulder. Alby’s hands have gotten lost in Newt’s hair, tangling his head just right to kiss him deeply. 

Newt can feel Alby’s hard, has been for a fair while now, and he rocks down as best as he can. 

There’s hardly any finesse, but it’s good, and it’s hot, and they’re close. Newt can feel it, can hear it in the way Alby’s gasping, in the soft moans that escape both of them every once in a while. 

He manages to reach down between them, wrap his fingers around Alby’s dick, and within a minute, it’s over for Alby. He moans Newt’s name, trying to thrust up into Newt’s hand, and it’s so hot that Newt uses his other hand to touch himself, too impatient to wait for Alby to come down. 

It doesn’t take much longer for him. He looks into Alby’s eyes and swears, spilling over his own hand, adding to the mess between them. 

Alby smiles, a slow and satisfied grin, and kisses him again. 

Newt can feel himself relaxing against Alby, equally is satisfied, and very pleased with himself. 

“Stay the night?” Alby asks him. 

Newt laughs. “I am never leaving again now.” 

[singt0me]

Upcoming Fic Series | Hard Rock & Callisto

“What will it be like, to watch the world end around him behind titanium glass? Will it be beautiful?”

insp: x

[makethiscanon]

Thank you for giving us more maze runner content the fandom is starved and your gally headcanons are so shucking cute. Ignore this if you it's not your thing but can you do headcanons for gally and a female glader on her time of the month? I love your stuff so much

How Gally Reacts to Fem!Reader Glader Suffering From Period Cramps:

Awww!!! Okay I know I said my requests are closed but apparently I can't say no to my comfort characters and soft prompts. I AM ABSOLUTELY DOING IT. AH.

Word Count: 880

------

Gally is king at dealing with your period cramps.

Well, maybe not on the first go.

That first time is horrifying and disastrous for everyone involved, and is never spoken of again.

But Gally is a quick learner.

He soon figures out there's only one thing that can stop you turning up for work.

And he knows where to find you when it happens.

So when he finishes the brunt of his tasks for the day, he takes a break to seek you out.

He finds you, as always, curled up in your hammock with a cold sweat and creased brow, whimpering over your stomach pains.

He doesn't speak to you.

All that comforting, sappy klunk isn't his thing.

He climbs into your hammock then drags you against him with your head nestled against his shoulder and your back flat to the hammock.

He makes you stretch your body out, no matter how much you protest, because he's trying to help.

Carefully, he lifts up your shirt until it bunches at your naval.

You whimper from the cramps so he waits, telling you to breathe through it.

He undoes your belt and the top button of your trousers, then shimmies them slightly down past your hips.

Should anyone walk by, this position looks compromising as shuck.

But you trust Gally enough to let him do it.

He rests his hand in the gap made by your loosened clothes, gently pressing down on your lower stomach to help ease the pain.

He's a notoriously warm-bodied Glader. His big hand is practically a hot water bottle so the relief is instant.

Gally doesn't understand why he starts smiling when you groan and snuggle your face into his neck to say thank you.

He also doesn't understand why his stomach flips when you grab his wrist, silently begging for him to stroke your stomach.

Despite his confusion at his own reactions, he does as you ask.

He's very gentle with you, massaging your stomach in small circles to ease the pain.

His hand is precise, using just enough pressure in his palm to keep you comfortable while his fingers tickle the skin of your inner hip.

Having the adept hands of a builder sure has its advantages.

He stays quiet to help you rest, only breaking the silence when you whimper from an especially painful cramp.

"You're okay," he says, willing his gruff voice to sound even the slightest bit soothing as he smoothes the clammy hair from your face with his free hand. "Breathe."

Hm. Maybe he's better at this comforting klunk than he thought. You're smiling, anyway.

He manages a whole ten minutes stroking your stomach and only has to fend off agonising hand-cramp once.

But he's the Keeper of the Builders and can't abandon the rest of the team all afternoon while they're still working.

He decides to leave you be. You haven't whimpered in a while so that's a good sign, right?

Only, when he tells you that he's going, he realises you've fallen asleep.

You're still smiling.

Your hand is still holding his wrist.

Shuck. There's literally no way to remove himself from the hammock without waking you.

Just... shuck. He's got to go back to work, one way or the other.

This isn't going to be pretty.

An hour later, Dan arrives at the Homestead in search of Gally, only to find him in exactly the same position, his hand still stroking your stomach while you sleep peacefully against his side.

And the glare on Gally's face promises Dan a world of pain should he accidentally wake you up.

Gally tells himself as Dan scarpers out of sight, tomorrow he's going to work twice as hard.

Tomorrow, he will make it up to the other builders.

Tomorrow, he will absolutely give them some of his special drink.

But for now, he is committed to keeping you comfortable.

Gally isn't the type to quit something part way through.

okay apart from today's building jobs. That's a one off, he swears.

He figures being the only female Glader comes with enough problems.

And since you trust him enough to A) let him touch you, and B) fall asleep on him, he's going to do what he can to help you out.

He likes the feeling of someone depending on him, anyway.

Especially when it's intimate, like this.

Gally is the last person anyone else will come to for support, so having you snuggling against him is a welcomed change.

Plus, everyone else's jealousy strokes his ego like nothing else.

Every month he gets to have a pretty girl snuggling into his side and the other guys can't hide their envy.

He loves it.

But more than anything, he loves the peace on your face as you sleep soundly next to him.

There's no fear of being trapped in the Glade. No pain. No exhaustion. Just a gentle face, so relaxed and comfortable.

Just don't expect Gally to ever admit that he likes having you cuddled up to him once you're feeling better.

Oh, you want that last bit of food? Tough klunk. You owe him for looking after you.

There's only one blanket left and it's getting cold at night? True shame. He's having it.

...fine. He'll share it with you.

Because he's the bigger man.

It's not because he gets to has to snuggle you close to him so you'll both fit inside it.

------

That's absolutely ridiculous.

[WRITING MASTERLIST]

[newtttheglue]

Title: Far Too Young To Die Chapters: 10/? Relationship(s): Newt/Thomas, Minho/Teresa Words: 64288 Summary: Newt always wished that one day his life would change, but he never imagined it would change quite like this. With the dead rising and the living turning on each other, he just hopes that they’ll all be able to make it out alive. Tags: established relationship, alternative universe - zombies, violence

Chapter Summary: “If we can convince them to trust us, maybe they’ll listen to us about WICKED. Maybe we’ll be able to get them to help us.” Chuck seemed to cheer up a little at that, a small smile on his face. “Then we can go save Thomas?” He asked and Newt wondered if he looked as sad as Teresa did at his question, her face falling a bit at the mention of her brother. But she smiled back at him nonetheless, a sad smile that Newt wished he never had to see her use. “Yeah, then we can go save Tom.”

Read more on AO3:

[clauxx]

Ch.7 of The Only Heaven I’ll Be Sent To, Is When I’m Alone With You

You can find the new chapter here.

You can find the first chapter here.

And you can find the entire work here.

Let me know what your thoughts are for the new chapter.

[gladerlove]

"Wait a minute. Are you jealous?" + thomaris? maybe

note: I’m so sorry anon, you prompted me this forever ago, and I honestly have no excuse for why its taken me so long to write this, I’m sorry ._. pls forgive me and enjoy? 

(on AO3)

“…you may kiss your bride,” the priest proclaimed.

Thomas grinned and then proceeded to wolf whistlealongside Newt as Minho (grinning like a mad man) grabbed Teresa and dipped herbefore proceeding to do just as the priest said.

Thomas turned to look at Aris, ready to make a cheekycomment, when he stopped at the expression on the others face. Aris lookedwhistful.

Whistful.

That could not be right.

Thomas nudged him slightly and it was like Aris came outof a trance. He jerked, blinking wildly, before looking at Thomas.

“What?”

Thomas grinned. Around then the people were slowly filingout of the room after the bride and groom, all of them hungry and ready to eatthe delicious smelling food waiting for them in the other room for thereception.

“Imagining yourself up there?” Thomas teased.

Aris huffed an turned to leave. “I’m happy for themThomas, that’s all.”

“Ouch,” Thomas winced playfully, hand settlingcomfortably on the small of Aris’ back as they joined the queue. “Full name,what’ve I done now?”

Aris ignored him, and Thomas tried not to be too put outby it. They filed their way into the dining hall and made their way to thetables reserved for Minho and Teresa’s family in the front.

The incident has mostly left Thomas’ mind as he indulgedin Fry’s declicious cooking, and Aris was smiling and laughing with them overthe next few hours. It wasn’t until people were cleaning up and getting ready toleave that Thomas figured it out.

He stopped in the middle of the pathway outside, Teresaand Minho taking pictures with friends off to the side. Aris stopped as welland shot him a confused look.

“Thomas?” he prodded.

Thomas looked at him, over to Teresa and Minho, and thenback to Aris. “Wait a minute. Are you jealous?”

Aris froze, eyes wide. “I, wh-what, how-?”

Thomas grinned. “You are, aren’t you? You’re jealous thatTeresa and Minho are getting married first.”

Aris’ eyes narrowed at that, and Thomas knew he wasright.

“Can you blame me?” Aris hissed, stepping closer. “They’veonly been together a year and a half, two at most! We’ve been together for four years Thomas, and despite the hintsI’ve been dropping you’ve never brought up the topic of marriage once!”

Thomas started laughing, and Aris flushed an angry red. “Whyare you laughing?” he bit out.

Thomas just shook his head, stepped forward, then droppeddown to one knee. Aris froze again, and Thomas relished in his surprise. Thoughperhaps he’d been a bit too subtle, when here he had been worried he hadn’t beensubtle enough.

“T-Thomas?” Aris stuttered.

Thomas just grinned and grabbed Aris’ limp hand to pressa kiss to the back of it. “I’m sorry I’ve made you wait so long Ri, it’s noexcuse, but I’d wanted it to be perfect. You deserve nothing less after all.”

Aris swallowed, and some distant part of Thomas’ brainrealized that their friends had noticed what was happening and were watchingraptly.

“Aris Jones, these last four years have been some of thehappiest of my life because of you, and I can’t imagine my life without you.Marry me?”

Aris, swallowed back a nervous laugh, his eyessuspiciously bright. “Aren’t you supposed to have a ring dimwit?”

“Left it in my other pair of pants,” Thomas deadpanned,and the laughter that Aris had been holding back erupted.

“Give me the godamned ring Thomas,” Aris laughed.

“Is that a yes?” Thomas beamed.

“Yes, it’s a yes, you fucker!”

Thomas stood up and pulled Aris into a bruising kiss, euphoriarushing through him. He could hear their friends cheering in the background andknew they’d never live this down but he didn’t care. Not when he pulled backlong enough to fish the ring out of the inner pocket of his suit jacket andslide the ring onto Aris’ finger.

Not when he pulled out a matching engagement ring forhimself and let Aris slide it onto hishand.

Aris said yes.

send me a pairing and a number and I’ll write you a drabble

(fun fact: this story is inspired by real events I was there to witness… sorta)

[killianspants-blog]

submitted by whyhellogreenie

Minho has been working in the Map room for weeks it felt like. He would usually spend awhile in there . But, this time was different. Now it was taking him longer and people were starting to get worried about him especially his boyfriend Newt. 

It was a Saturday night, around midnight. Minho was sitting in the Maproom. He had been up all day and night trying to figure out something, a way to get out of this Maze. He had fallen asleep at his desk though. He hadn’t slept in two straight days and he still hadn’t come up with anything.

There was a knock on the door, a face pecked through and smiled. It was Newt. Newt and Minho had been dating for almost two years now. They were inceperable and they truely did love each other. There was only one bad thing about dating Minho. Minho was a perfectionist and wanted everything to be absolutely perfect whilst Newt was more laid back and less stressed, or at least he wouldn’t show it. Newt looked up when he walked into the room, then he raised his eyebrows when he saw that Minho was asleep. He had his head buried into his arms, Newt finally walked over to him. He reached down and shook him a few times, Minho immediately lifted his head up. He rubbed his eyes a few times before he finally looked up at Newt, slightly confused about what was going on. Newt simply chuckled. “The bed’s more comfy, just letting you know,” he said, smiling. Minho blinked again as he looked around still stuck in complete confusion, and realized that he was still sitting at his desk. He groaned and hid his face in his hands. “What time is it?” he asked looking over at Newt again. “It’s past midnight. How long have you been sitting in here?” Newt asked sitting down on a wooden chair behind him. “Too long,” Minho mumbled. He sighed and shook his head. “Well, I think it’s time that you get to bed,” “No. I have to start working on finding a way out of this shucking place !,” Minho protested “I’m sure we can survive a little longer in the Glade. You need sleep. That’s what you need,” “I’m fine, Newt. I don’t need any sleep. Are lives are depending on me finishing this map and solveing the shucking puzzle,” Minho snapped, without meaning to. He stood up and then he started to walk out of the room. Newt blinked a few times. He shook his head and followed his boyfriend. He found him sat outside laying on the grass .Newt stood there for a few seconds as he watched . He finally walked over to him and wrapped his arms around Minho who immediately looked up at him. Normally, he would like Newt doing this. But, not this time. He was too stressed and frustrated. As newt started to gently kiss Minho’s neck he was pushed off. “Not now, I’m thinking” “Minho” Newt pouted he had never been rejected like this but Minho still ignored him. “Can’t we go back to the bedroom and cuddle for a bit? I haven’t had a cuddle in days.” He whined. Minho sighed and shook his head. “That sounds nice, Newt, but now is really not the time,” he said. Newt frowned. “What’s going on with you?” He asked as Minho refused to look at him. “You never reject me like this…” “I have more important things to do, alright?” Minho snapped. “So, you’re saying that I’m not important to you?” Newt asked. He scoffed. “Fine. If that’s what you feel then I’ll just leave you alone…” Newt started to walk away. Minho immediately turned and looked over at him. “Newt, wait!” Minho yelled. Newt immediately stopped. He looked over at the man he loved. “I swear I didn’t mean it like that. You are important to me and this is why i’m doing it ! Because I’m scared that you'll” Minho took a deep breath. “Jump.. Again”Minho started to say. “I can’t loose you again, I won't ! » He yelled. His eyes began to water up. “I’m tired and I haven’t slept for two days and I just want to get this stupid map solved and done and finished. ” He cried. “Babe…” Newt said with shock. He walked over to him. He bent down so that he could see Minho’s face. “You’ve been working too hard. You’re stressing yourself out, i’m not going anywhere, because I have you and that’s all I need” he whispered. Minho hid his face in his hands. “This has never happened before. I can’t think of anything as an escape route” He said. “I love you, Minho, but maybe you should take a break from trying to do all these big plans to escape” Newt suggested. “But I..” Minho started “You’ve worked your butt of we can ask Thomas to help you” Newt said. Minho sighed. “I hate it when you’re right.” he mumbled. They both laughed laughed. “So, what do you say? Me and you? Bed ? Now ?” Newt asked. “We’ll figure out everything else tomorrow with Thomas. But, for right now, its past midnight and you need sleep. No more coffee. You’ve had far too much coffee the past two days,” He reached over and then he gently whipped away the tear from Minho’s cheek. “I just really don’t like seeing you so stressed out like this all the time,” Newt said. Minho chuckled. “Well, I don’t like being stressed either,” he said « I suppose we can go to bed now,” he said as Newt sighed in relief. He stood up and then he pulled his boyfriend up. “But, just so you know, if I go to sleep… I’ll probably be asleep for like a week. I’m so tired.” Minho whined. They walkback to their bedroom and dropped onto the bed Minho looked up at Newt and smiled. “Goodnight,” he replied. He let out a yawn and then he rested his head on Newt’s chest and let his eyes flutter shut. Minho had no idea where he would be without Newt in his life.

[singt0me]

i'm longing to linger til dawn, dear ...

2. Callisto. 74.7k

There are billions of atoms that have collided; an immeasurable supply of matter that has joined together to create the cosmos that they, themselves, live in. The universe is vast, cold wasteland of unforgiving beauty and, somehow and some way, they have managed to exist in it at the same time.

(Or: Hundreds of years ago, a boy who will one day be called Newt waits at the gate for WCKD to open it’s doors.)

read on ao3

[makethiscanon]

How Gally Reacts to an Accident-Prone, Fem!Reader Glader:

Word Count: 1k

So apparently I can't leave headcanons as headcanons and they kinda morph into bulletpointed scenarios?

Either way, here's some Gally x Reader fluff! Enjoy!

------

He takes an interest in you since you’re the first girl in the Glade.

It’s not the ‘good’ kind of interest.

To him, you’re a problem.

You’re going to destroy the harmony of the Glade simply by being here.

But since he always has his eye on you, he’s always the first to spot you getting into danger.

“Get out of the way or that boar’s going to trample you, slinthead.”

“That’s not how you sharpen a knife. Stop pointing the blade at yourself.”

“No, I won’t help you. You climbed up there when there’s plenty of good firewood on the ground so untangle yourself--...Ah, shuck it. Fine. Stay still. I’m coming up.”

He wants Alby to create a role where even you can’t get injured, since he’s sick of hauling you to the Med Jacks.

Denies it when the other Gladers say he’s got a soft-spot for you.

No, he just wants to make sure you don’t cause trouble for everyone.

That’s the only reason he keeps stepping in whenever he sees another Glader getting too friendly with you, too.

‘Accidental’ touches and lingering gazes from afar are absolutely not happening on his watch. He’s there to nip it in the bud before the other Gladers wind up more distracted from their work than they already are.

It has nothing to do with the unexplained anger that swells up inside him when he sees another Glader with his hands on you.

Aaaaand shuck, you’re injured again. How? How? He took his eye off you for thirty seconds. HOW?

No, stop laughing. This isn’t funny. You’re like a baby duckling in constant need of being watched in case you find a new way to get in trouble.

He doesn’t understand why he gets antsy to the thought of you sleeping in your hammock between the other gladers.

It gives him restless nights, tossing and turning until the early hours.

For the sake of his sleep, and that's the only reason he swears by it, he builds a small, private hut for you off of the Homestead. There’s even a crudely designed lock on the door.

It's all for his sake. Totally his sake. Pffft, why would it be for your sake?

No, he doesn’t need to think about why you being safe and secure in your own room helps him sleep better.

That’s a completely pointless thing to think about.

But those unsolved feelings are especially difficult for him to deal with at the bonfires. For some reason beyond his comprehension, you want to join in on the wrestling. Against him.

He refuses.

The others complain and boo him, but that’s not enough to change his mind.

Until another Glader offers to wrestle you instead.

Well. Get in the ring, baby duck. Guess it’s time to tussle.

He’s relatively gentle with you. Goes easy.

He’s not about to let you win, but he won’t shove you from the ring with full force either. Your track record tells him you’d end up back with the Med Jacks if he did.

Once the match begins, it takes him two seconds to push you out.

You demand to go again.

He says you’ve had your turn but the others back you, telling him to give you another shot.

So he does, with the same result.

���Satisfied?”

But you’re not. You ask for one more try.

There’s something about your perseverance that makes him smirk.

“Fine. Last round.”

“Last round.” You agree.

He likes the determination in your eyes, but it won’t amount to anything.

Once the match begins, he does exactly the same as before. He lunges with arms outstretched to grip your shoulders to shove you.

But as his hands connect, you catch his wrists then hit the deck. The momentum pulls him forwards before you kick him in the gut, sending him hurtling over the top of you.

He’s stunned by what you’ve just accomplished.

But then again, he isn’t the Keeper of the Builders for nothing and he certainly won’t let a greenie beat him in the ring.

Using your own move against you, he hits the ground with a loud thump but keeps the momentum going.

Using shoulder-muscles built from three year’s hard labour, he hurls his arms forwards.

You can’t release his wrists fast enough so the wound-up momentum sends you flying.

He hears you scream as you launch into the crowd of onlookers, then a hard THWACK as you hit the floor.

He’s quietly impressed by you, and winded, but those feelings fall by the wayside when he hears someone saying, ‘man, she hit her head pretty hard. Is she okay?’

With a grunt, he drags himself up, clutching at his ribs from where he landed, but his attention is on you.

You’re on your back. You’re not moving.

Shuck, why did he fight you off like that? He's been keeping you out of danger for weeks and then he goes and—

The sound of your laughter cuts him short.

The other gladers start clapping, then they’re laughing with you, then they’re helping you onto your feet. You’re unsteady, but you’re smiling. You’re grinning.

“That was fantastic,” you say with delight, sounding shocked that it happened and dazed from the fall.

Gally can only laugh with a strange sense of relief.

Thank shuck you’re okay. You’re okay. You’re—…hang on.

“Is that blood?”

He barely gives you time to put your fingers to your forehead and see the red before he charges towards you, shouting for Clint.

You can tell him you’re fine all you want but he’s still taking you to medical.

No, it's not just an excuse to pick you up and carry you.

It’s not.

He just wants to make sure you aren’t a problem for anyone else in the Glade.

You’re his problem, and his alone.

------

[WRITING MASTERLIST]

[crankparadise]

✿The Scorch Trials: Untold Chapters - Chapter Three

✿ ||Chapter one (and plot summary) here ✿ ||Chapter two here Feedback always welcome! beta'd by commodorenewt

Bleak, whispering streets. Unintelligible noises and lurking shadows. If they had ever known safety, they had firmly forgotten it now. This place that was supposed to be deserted was now something very frighteningly alive.

What was even more unsettling, was despite the irking feeling of something being around, nothing could be seen. Yet there was something in the slammed doors, there were voices in the wind. The eyes of each Glader followed dark shadow-like shapes in the corners of their eyes that moved too fast to be caught by a glance, and once followed turned into nothing at all.

Whistling through the legs of the group, was an uncomfortably warm wind, drawing them into this living-dead place in the most unwelcoming way.

There was life in this City, but a brooding and sickly life; one that was closer to death.

They huddled together on the fringes of the City, planning their advance. The creepy outskirts of the place had already felt the groups' trespassing. But the group couldn't fully enter the territory of the beady eyes and lazy shadows, without first preparing their entrance.

Jorge, had suggested to enter the place in two groups rather than a whole large one.

It was an instantly unpopular suggestion. Which had caused an uproar among the group that was not worth the trouble. It made more sense, according to Jorge, the more scattered and unlikely the groups looked, the less suspicious they would be to whatever breed of Cranks that populated this City. Walking in as a large and bizarre-looking group of boy scouts who had adopted a filthy little girl on the way was an absolute no-go. A group too large would be intimidating, and they would no doubt be assumed to have traveled all together. Which would be suspicious too, because such a thing rarely happened. A group too small would just be vulnerable. So their best option was to break in two; one group of seven, one group of six.

Due to Jorge's intimidating lectures, they were getting more and more educated on the ferocity of Cranks. Although their leader wasn't sure of the particular type that inhabited this exact area, it was no secret that Cranks can smell bonds between friends and use it against them to the best of their ability. They would catch any nervous glance shared, or read into any elbow to the gut to shut the other up. Those were likely to defend each other during any form of interrogation, were separated.

The majority of the boys dispersed among their group haphazardly and reluctantly in order to suggest nothing that even remotely suggested they had known each other long. It made sense that they had to make their groups look as desolate and thrown together as possible. They had to look detached, as unfamiliar with each other as they were with the City. They had to look totally blown together in order to be as absolutely unsuspicious as possible. The best way to give the impression that they were scattered and unfamiliar with each other, was to scatter them around and make it feel real. Even given everything that had happened to them up to this point, this was probably one of the most difficult things the Gladers had been asked to do; to part from each other willingly for an unknown period of time, and if worst came to worst, maybe forever. Separation from the closest thing they had to family, even for a short period of time, was a touchy thing to suggest.

Minho and Newt hadn't moved an inch.

"No way." Minho had said.

"The last thing we need is more splittin' up." Newt said, but it came out more forlorn than firm, which was not how he had intended it. He coughed, not liking the lack of control in his voice that hadn’t been there before.

"Well if you think you need protected, papi” Jorge said “Maybe you can find more toddlers along the way, eh? Gather an army of 'em." Minho snorted, Newt elbowed him accordingly.

"Let me tell ya' what to expect of this place." This came from Rosie, who was still between them in her little yellow coat. Grinning with her tiny knife bared. “I'm from around here."

"Kid, as far as we know, where you're from, is a trashcan." Said Minho, whacking her lazily out from between himself and Newt with the back of his hand. "You don't make the rules."

"Monkey's right, kid." Jorge said. "Plus, it doesn't matter. Cranks don't spare locals."

"But I wanna heeelp." Rosie whined. She slumped against Newt’s leg, glowering at Minho. "And I'm not from the trashcan, duck-hair, I was just put there."

"And I won't be long puttin' you back in there if you don't shut your two-foot-tall trap!"

"Minho, shut it.” Newt said as he was used to doing, his eyes were closed.

“Yeah ‘Ninno.” Rosie mocked, Minho sneered at her.

“You too Rosie!” Newt snapped, and glared at Minho. “Hell, I bloody wonder who’s the child here."

"But hey, Jorge." This voice came from Frypan, he and the boys were darted around and visibly distressed.

"Why you gotta split us up the Shanks who know each other best?" He was cautiously looking at his friends. At this point, separation anxiety was understandable, and it was the top priority of the Gladers to stick together. He seemed to gather his nerves. "Like damn, as you can plainly see Newt's gonna have to be with Minho so he doesn't say something stupid and get killed. Minho's gotta stay with Newt so that he doesn't lose another leg and get killed."

As Minho and Newt bickered back in response it became like a dull roar of voices again.The Gladers talked over each other, exclaiming their worries about the splitting.

Jorge was raising his hands into the air in frustration. He brought them together loudly as he did before, silencing the group.

"Time to grow up, ‘chachos. First priority is survival, friendship comes second. We split up, no questions.” Jorge insisted, squaring right back against them as he felt the air of defensiveness forming. "Trust me, splitting up is key to getting into that place.” He continued. “It's only because this place has people checking to see who comes and who goes. But only on these outskirts, then we reassemble, and you babies can all suck your thumbs and whatever else together again. ¿Vale?"

"Still, why do we have to be so cautious?" Aris blurted in. "You said Cranks were too scared to go this deep into the City." It felt like the first time Aris had raised his voice among the Gladers to anyone since Thomas, some of them had forgotten he had a voice.

"That's because I'm pretty sure these aren't Cranks, amigo, at least not fully. They're near-gones, at best bet.” Jorge slid a metal lighter out from his pocket as he spoke and began to flick the flame on and off, on and off.

“These guys are gone enough to be scary as hell and sane enough to be smart with their madness. They know they're doomed and they're ready to have fun with anything that looks remotely fragile before they go full-crazy. And trust me you kids look remotely fragile."

No one was reassured, and with the suggestion still unwelcome, the boys had only huddled together in protest. They faced Jorge in a pack, with their matching bruises and identical scowls.

They looked startlingly like a bunch of unwanted pets; or more appropriately, angry lab-rats that had all been hit with the same hand and felt the same hurt. The irony of this, was very amusing to Jorge.

So they had returned to the drawing board, and continued bickering over their entrance plan as the sky above them started to drift to sleep.

They could agree on avoiding, for as long as they could, heavy-hearted goodbyes that felt like goodbyes forever. Their new approach was to sneak into the City in secret. Jorge had insisted his original idea, but sneaking in was approved by the majority.

Lined up against a sheltering wall, the group moved slowly and surely through the sinking sand, Jorge was in front. In a line behind him, the boys were nervous, clumsy shadows against the wall. Jorge’s subtlety came with an ease they longed to achieve, but the Gladers sunk behind him. With their backs hunched with tiredness and fear, the shadows wearily followed. As they made progress, silence had fallen like the evening soon would. There was only the sound of the thick wind and what was either knocking weaponry or shaking knees from the Gladers. They made their way from the broken outskirts to the shadowed streets and sturdier buildings, going deeper into the City. Despite the fear of the unknown, they longed for shelter and heat-relief. The mountain ahead, stood high and majestic. It framed the lost city like a halo, the hazy sleepy heat of the air made it seem otherworldly; like a dream, or a mirage. They still had almost a week to make it to the Safe Haven.

They were almost there, sweat was beading on their brows. If they could just make it into the main City, they could look like any other group of Cranks passing through - but a low, throaty cough made the Gladers suddenly aware of possible extra footprints in the back of their line. Jorge cursed in Spanish, sinking into the shadow of the boiling building. The boys did the same, their feet sinking into the sand. Minho let out a breath he hadn’t noticed he was holding, they had been so close, but the feeling of someone around pushed their hearts up into their throats. Tight against the wall, they willed invisibility. Newt was counting them all again before nodding curtly toward Minho, his expression firm but his eyes wavering and afraid. Minho caught the little nod and winked reassuringly.

It was apparently a false alarm. They fell into step again, slowly moving deeper into the City.

The phlegm-filled cough that didn’t belong to the group, came again, followed by a tiny yelp from the back. They stilled against the wall once more, turning their heads, Rosie was gone. Then their head all turned to Jorge in sync, he glared at each face. No one dared move a muscle. “Let go! Put me-” From around the corner, a stranger walked out into the sun. He held Rosie in one arm, covering her mouth with the other. She was struggling furiously in his grip. The figure stopped in front of the group. His large legs had strode easily through the moving sandy surface, sinking only slightly with his weight. As the group turned to face him, they saw he had white hair reaching way past shoulders. He was enormously fat, ears and face pierced, with tattoos all over. He wore a white shirt that was closer to grey, with a tight bolo tie that made him look even rounder.

"Well.. ain't you a funny lookin' bunch a' stragglers." The man said in a low, husky voice. "What bring's y'all here? The circus in town?" He laughed sickeningly at his own joke.

Jorge brushed his hands together from the front of the line. He stepped out of the shadow, the boys followed. Despite the despair that came with their "subtle tactics" having completely failed, Jorge showed none of this on his face. Not even a single ounce of 'I told you so'. Instead he looked as relaxed as having just bumped into an old friend.

"Something like that." He responded, he opened his mouth to speak again.

"Folks don't often take trips ‘round here..." The man interrupted quickly. He walked around in front of the group with a cocky stride, the little girl still dangling in his grip and trying to bite his hands. His eyes were moving between the boys slowly as if drinking every detail about them; the bruises on their collarbones, the sunburnt tips of their ears, the freckles on their noses, the fear on their breath.

"You must either be lost, or your mind's are halfway to lost, like the rest of us!" Again he laughed a grizzly laugh, full of menace, nightmares and phlegm. The laugh grew into a heavy cough.

Despite the element of Crank that was so present in his voice, his eyes darted around, sharp and alert. Despite the swerve in his step as he moved around them, he stood up straight and still. Something about the man didn't add up.

“Give her back!” Newt barked suddenly, darting forward so fast that he almost stumbled. The sudden boldness that was so unlike Newt’s soft, observant nature had startled them all. He seemed to have startled himself too, as he dropped the fat man's gaze and retreated back into the shadows. The man only raised an eyebrow, continuing to look along the row of boys with his lazy, merciless eyes.

"Quit sizing us up like we're prize cattle!" Minho yelled then. "Look man, we know what we're doing, leave us alone! We're from WICKED." Minho said, emphasising the last slice of his words as if it was something intimidating. If there was one thing Minho hated more than authority, it was intimidating authority. It made words tumble out of his mouth like useless, careless objects. The group had to hide every part of them that wanted to groan and punch him. Jorge could only close his eyes slowly, Newt could only grip his own wrists behind his back.

The fat man had turned to Minho then, his expression was oddly bright and unreadable. Rosie had stopped struggling, she just looked at the boys with scared eyes. The man looked Minho up and down, taking mental note. Then, as if he read him inside out, he did Minho's least favourite thing, he completely and utterly ignored him; directing his words and questions only to Jorge.

"S'pose you know where you're going, huh sonny?"

"We have the Flare too." Jorge said, ignoring the small talk. He kicked some dust towards Minho, frustration in the force. His eyes widened at him with warning. "Kid's got it bad. Talking crazy."

"Seems to think he's from WICKED, got anything smart to say about that?" Suddenly the white-haired guys' words were moving between assured and clipped, and riddled with long country vowels. If Jorge was hard to read, this Crank was a language of his own. He strode up to Jorge, before stopping fast. He swung his jaw to face the boys.

"I got a buddy called Thomas from WICKED. Heard of him?" His eyes narrowed, and glided along them all, soaking up every pained reaction. "We lost him." Minho said quickly. Making sure to distract him from Newt's quickened breaths and the uneasy looks that he could see exchanged in his peripheral vision. Though like most of what he said, it hadn't made it to his head first.

The man nodded before he snickered like a school boy graced with a dirty joke. His huge intimidating body seemed to loosen as it shook with laughter. The boys looked between each other and this unreadable, baffling man.

He threw Rosie into the sand in front of him; Newt bounded towards her and stood her up from the dust. She struggled out of his grip and re-adjusted her tough expression.

"Aw, I'm just messin'!” The man said. “I don't know shit about them signs about a "Thomas". Y'all are free to pass on through, just fine' yerself' a nice cosy nook to go crazy in."

The group of boys carried on quickly into the City. Some stopped to dote on Rosie and dust her off. She was embarrassed by both her vulnerability and the sudden attention, so she snapped at them and bared her knife. Minho was concerned about Newt’s outburst. The group abandoned their sneaking line altogether. Relieved, naive and heavy with tiredness, their senses weren't as sharp as Jorge's. Who waited as the large man walked back to the alley he came from. The stride was back in his fat legs. Jorge stood deep in the sand, watching all the boys as he stood still.

"But if I did know somethin' about them signs." Jorge craned his neck to listen to the hateful voice that came from the alley. He clicked his teeth like a lighter forming flame. "I guess I’d know that he's not with the rest of his bunch. Reckon I'd know how he'd be dressed too, wouldn't I?"

The man sunk away, back into the shadows; his sickly laugh still hung in the air behind him. For a moment, Jorge looked ahead at the identically dressed boys. Slumping their arms over each other like the children and idiots they were. They walked ahead into the evening glow of the City, unaware that in their clumsy words, they may have just told the Crank exactly what he needed to know about Thomas. Jorge spared that moment to think about Brenda and the boy. Their whereabouts, their safety, and how their own friends may have just doomed them both.

But he couldn't dwell on the thought for long. For now, this group was safe, at least. They had made it successfully into the City of the half-gone Cranks.

Some of which, with the sun now down, were emerging from their hiding places.

[newtttheglue]

Thomally #1 if your still doing it

“Come over here and make me.” 

In the early weeks of getting through the flat trans totheir so called 'Paradise', Thomas had been very reluctant to trust it, but itwasn’t just him, everyone had been worried that something was going to go wrong.No one as much as Gally, though.

Thomas could understand his concerns, he often found himselfwondering how it was possible that somewhere in the world hadn't been hit bythe disease, when it felt like everywhere they'd seen had been devastated byit. It was hard for Thomas to wrap his head around, but he was getting there,starting to trust their new home to keep them safe.

Gally was having none of it.

He was a lot calmer than his past self, back in the Glade,nicer to be around, but his thoughts on protecting the people around them wereever present. His main priority was to keep them all safe, and to him thatmeant they needed to start building some sort of defences to help protect them fromwhatever could be waiting for them.

Thomas was really starting to get tired of it, they'd heldmultiple meetings with the core people of the group once a day for two weeksonce they’d gotten to Paradise. Together they'd decided that the reinforcementswere really not necessary and that if Gally wanted to help build their newworld, then he should accept his position of head of the new building team anddo just that, build.

They'd had to come to some sort of agreement to make him seesense though, something that Thomas wasn’t surprised about. It had been decidedthat all previous runners and whoever felt they had the skills to do so, wouldrun a lap of their perimeter to make sure everything was fine at least twice aday. Thomas felt that maybe it was a little much, that after two months inParadise with nothing happening the runs were unnecessary. But then again,maybe he was just getting complacent.

Thomas had taken the morning run that day with Minho, thetwo of them deciding to race each other round their second lap. Thomas knewthat it wasn't exactly the most responsible thing they could have been doing,but being in Paradise was the first time in everything they could remember thatthey'd finally been allowed to be what they were, kids.

As they came to the end of their first lap, Thomas lookedbehind him to see Minho starting to pick up the pace to come and run alongsidehim. As he came up next to him, Thomas had expected him to slow to his speed,but instead he shot forward, sending Thomas a wink as he went.

Thomas cursed him under his breath and ran off after him,revelling in the feel of the wind as it rushed past him. The maze may have beena dangerous and terrifying place at times, but Thomas would be the first toadmit that sometimes he wished he could go back. Running the maze was somethinghe was good at, something that had made him feel useful. Now, running the edgeof their new home, he couldn't help but think his existence was a littlepointless.

Paradise was much more beautiful than the maze though, thatwas for sure. As he sprinted past the lake he took a look out over the water,watching as the light reflected against the slight ripples being made in thebreeze, Thomas couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen something sobeautiful.

He looked away from the lake in time to notice that Minhowas a few feet ahead of him, turning to head in the direction of their village.Thomas took one last look across the water before he sprinted ahead, trying tocatch up with Minho as best he could.

The village was now fast approaching, Minho still had quitea big lead on him. Thomas was determined that he was going to win, he didn’tthink he could deal with Minho gloating about it for weeks on end.

Thomas lost sight of Minho as he turned round on of thebuildings, the shouts of someone came not a second later.

“Hey, watch where you’re going, shank!” Thomas didn’t havemuch time to think about it when he too rounded the corner and ran slap banginto the person, falling to the ground with a thud.

Thomas groaned when his back hit the floor, closing his eyesagainst the pain that shot down his spine. He didn’t have much time to take itin though before someone was grabbing the front of his shirt and hauling him upof the floor. He snapped his eyes open and only had a few seconds to registerthe angry glare on Gally’s face before he was slammed up against the wall,hard.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Thomas winced ashis back hit the wall, the anger in Gally’s voice making him sink down a littleto try and get away from him. “You’re meant to be checking the perimeter, notfucking around!”

“Oh, come on!” Thomas rolled his eyes, straightening up alittle so he could be a bit closer to Gally’s height. “We’d already checked theperimeter, is having fun a crime now?” Gally frowned, his fist pressing hardagainst Thomas’ chest.

“Maybe it should be, you could have hurt someone.” Thomasswallowed, glancing down at Gally’s fist before he looked up to make eyecontact with him, attempting to stare him down.

“How is me and Minho racing round the perimeter going to getanyone hurt?” Thomas questioned, hoping to get Gally to back off a little butit only seemed to make him angrier.

“You slammed into me pretty hard, what if it was one of thekids?”

“Well the kids aren’t stupid enough to be lurking aroundcorners!”

“I was notlurking.” Gally growled out, letting go of Thomas’ shirt to take a step backfrom him, his hands balled into fists at his sides.

“What would you call it then?” Thomas glanced over Gally’sshoulder as he asked, Minho was stood a few feet away from the two of them,looking ready to intervene if something went south.

“I would call it working, which is what you were supposed to be doing!” Thomas snapped his gaze back toGally when he answered, anger flaring up in his chest at his comment.

“Will you just get off my case for five minutes?” He took astep towards Gally and straightened up to his full height, trying to makehimself seem more intimidating. It didn’t really work, since Gally still had tolook down at him, but he didn’t back down. Gally didn’t seem phased either andthat was what got to him more than anything.

“Maybe if you’d quit acting like a complete idiot, I wouldn’thave to keep asking you.” Thomas furrowed his brows, resisting the urge toreach up and punch Gally square in the jaw.

“You’re such an ass, you know that? What gives you the rightto decide what everyone can and can’t do, that’s not your call. So would youplease just fu-”

“Are you incapable of shutting up?” Gally snapped, cuttinghim off.

“I don’t know, why don’t you come over here and make me.”Thomas had no idea why he’d said it, but he seemed to realise the connotationsbehind it at the same time Gally did. The anger that was overtly present on hisfeatures fell to confusion, before quickly being replaced by a new determinationthat had Thomas worrying that he was going to kill him.

He couldn’t have been more wrong.

In the space of a few seconds, Gally had crowded him back upagainst the wall and had reached up for him, but instead of punching him likeThomas had feared, he placed a hand against his neck, leant forward and kissedhim hard on the lips. Thomas had a second to freak out about what was happeningbefore he responded, fisting his hands in the sides of Gally’s shirt to pullhim closer towards him.

Thomas ignored the laughter that he assumed was coming fromMinho and tuned him out, tilting his head up to kiss Gally back. Thomas had noidea where the need for this had come from, but as Gally bit down gently on hisbottom lip he couldn’t think of anyone else he’d rather be with right now.

Soon Gally was pulling away from him, his breath heavy as helooked Thomas over, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips.

“I’m still mad at you.” Thomas huffed out a laugh, his handsrunning up the front of Gally’s chest and coming to grip at the front of hisshirt. Thomas pulled him back in for another kiss, this one slower and muchgentler than the first.  Thomas may nothave forgiven him for what he’d said, and he knew the same could be said for Gally,but that could wait for some other time.

[clauxx]

Ch. 6 of The Only Heave I’ll Be Sent To Is When I’m Alone With You

You can find the new chapter here.

Leave me your thoughts on it 

[gladerlove]

come on make me feel alive [1/?] - EDITED

come one make me feel alive Minho/Thomas

note: so this is out quite a bit later than I intended, but um, at least I got it out before the new year? and on that note, Happy New Year! what better way to ring it in than with thominho fic hm? this won't have many chapters, probably 2-3, but I'm not sure how many exactly yet. It is definitely gonna be a short story though. Enjoy! (30/4/17 - in the process of editing this whole story before i write more - i know, it’s been forever, but i’ve finally gotten inspiration again so i hope if anyone liked this story before you guys can bare with me as i go back through and edit the story itself and i promise to have more up soon :D)

on AO3

“I’m sorry, I must have misheard you,” Thomas stared at his parents, horrified. “Did you just say married?

His mother, either unconcerned or unrecognizing of her sons utter horror, laughed in his face. “Of course we did! You’re to be married to Prince Minho of Isax. I’m sure we told you, you know about the alliance we’ve been negotiating with them for ages,” his mother waved a hand dismissively. “With your coming of age in two months we’ve all agreed that a marriage between our two lines would be the best way to cement the alliance.

Thomas gaped in disbelief. No, no they had not ever told him about this. Marriage was something he would remember. Slowly he turned his attention to his father. The King looked apologetic, but clearly had no intention of stopping this madness. The bastard.

“You can’t be serious,” he finally stammered.

“Oh, very,” his mother nodded. “You’ll be traveling to Isax in two days’ time so that you and Prince Minho can get acquainted before your engagement is announced. Then you’ll come back home for a brief period before Minho joins you for the actual wedding.”

His mother looked utterly delighted as she outlined her sons impending doom. Thomas once more glanced to his father for help, but the older man just shrugged, once more denying him. Utterly unprepared for this and suddenly overwhelmed, the young Prince turned around and sprinted from the room. He heard his parents calling after him but he ignored their calls. Instead he ran and ran until he couldn’t run anymore, and then he continued a bit more. When he finally collapsed, he couldn’t quite process where he was, only the movement of his insides as he dry heaved. Bile turned in his stomach and he clamped a hand over his mouth as he desperately prayed not to throw up from the strain he’d put on his body.

He breathed in slowly through his nose and then out through his mouth, then repeated the process until he felt calm. His eyes burned and he could feel a scream building in his throat at the unfairness of it all. If he’d had even an inkling that this was in the works he could have had time to accept it, but it had come out of nowhere, even after growing up as a prince and knowing this was likely how he’d end up married, he still hadn’t been prepared.

Why him?

“Thomas?”

He didn’t have to turn to look at the speaker to know who it was. “Go away Newt.”

“No chance there, mate,” Newt plopped down next to him as Thomas shifted from his knees to sit down properly. He groaned and Newt nudged their shoulders together companionably.

“So, I take this little stunt to mean that you’ve heard?”

“You mean you knew?” Thomas shot Newt a betrayed look as the other rolled his eyes and shot him a pointed look in return. Thomas huffed back and silently conceded the point as he slumped against the other boy. “I think the only good thing that’ll come out of this is that at least you’ll be stuck there with me,” he muttered.

“Ah, the eternal joys of being a manservant,” Newt deadpanned. Thomas laughed and Newt grinned before he continued. “Is this really such a bad thing though? This marriage? Your parents were arranged after all, look how happy they are,” Newt pointed out.

“They’re one of the few exceptions,” Thomas pointed out as he made a face at the comparison. “You know as well as I do that arranged marriages don’t always result in a good match, especially ones for political gain. Just look at the mess an arranged marriage made of the Saya and Equis kingdoms.”

Newt winced as he remembered that clusterfuck of rather epic proportions. “Yes, well, that was a particularly bad match, but that’s also exceptionally rare as well,” Newt pointed out right back. Thomas just sighed and Newt rolled his eyes and sat up suddenly, jostling Thomas who groaned in protest. Newt hushed him with another of his patented looks. “Thomas, look,” he started.

“I’ve heard nothing but good things about Prince Minho for all of my sources, and even from random people in his country I questioned. Isax is also one of the few kingdoms that’s a near perfect match to ours in perms of political and economic means. This alliance can only benefit both of our kingdoms, and since your sister is already in the process of courting someone, that means it falls to you,” Newt poked him in the chest to emphasize his point, “as Crown Prince Thomas, to fulfull the marriage contract. And who knows,” Newt smirked, “maybe you two will turn out like your parents after all.”

Thomas deflated at the logic in Newt’s argument. “You think?” he muttered.

Newt grabbed Thomas by the chin and made sure the other boy couldn’t look away as he spoke next. “Thomas, you’re an amazing guy. Prince Minho is lucky to be betrothed to you, and if anyone can turn a political marriage into a love match, it would be you. Plus,” Newt added on, a thoughtful look on his face, “if it turns out to be a hopeless disaster I’ll spirit you away myself.”

Thomas couldn’t stop the helpless smile that statement brought to his lips as he laughed and Newt laughed with him. “Thank you, Newt,” Thomas said as he grabbed the older boy into a tight hug. Newt returned the gesture and the two of them cling to each other for a long moment before Newt pulled back.

“Now that the sappy stuff is out of the way, you’re going to help me pack up your things.”

Thomas groaned at that but didn’t have time to protest as Newt was already standing and hauling him up.

“I’m pretty sure you’re the one that’s supposed to be taking orders from me,” Thomas muttered petulantly as Newt dragged him away. Now that Thomas was actually paying attention he could see that he’d ran all the way to the outer courtyard wall on the opposite side of the castle.

“Since when do I take order from you?” Newt laughed.

“Since always!”

“Nah, I’m pretty sure you’re mistaken there Tommy,” Newt turned and winked at him, and Thomas was once again reminded how fiercely glad he was that Newt would be going with him. As long as Newt was there, he could handle this.

-

Three days later and Thomas was stuck on the back of a horse, well on his way to the kingdom of Isax. He and Newt had set out the morning before, the weather comfortably mild. Thankfully this engagement had been sprung on him in a between season, the weather turning from a crisp fall to a light spring, which meant it tended to be a toss-up between warm, chilled, or somewhere in between.

Newt, who was riding a little ahead of him, gestured up the road where an inn was visible, and a little past that the beginnings of a small, roadside town that made its profit primarily on travelers like Thomas and Newt. “We’ll stop there for the night and then press on to Isax in the morning,” Newt said, and Thomas was glad for the reprieve. The sun was starting to dip along the horizon and they’d been riding most the day with hardly any breaks in an attempt to get to Isax as quickly as possible.

Against his parents’ wishes it was just the two of them making the journey. Thomas had insisted that if he was to be forced into this marriage he’d do it his way, which meant no armed guards – Newt would be more than enough. Not to mention it would be less noticeable for them to travel that way, and they were both more than qualified to protect themselves. Thomas had been training with the guard since he was 8, until he took over training the guard himself at 16. As for Newt, to be a manservant for any royal family required years of training and mastery in multiple forms of combat so they could protect their charges. They royal families liked their manservants to be well rounded individuals.

“Why don’t I go ahead and get us both a brew at the pub while you get us a room,” Thomas suggested with a grin as they got closer. The other boy rolled his eyes as he pulled to a stop, causing Thomas to stop as well.

“Any excuse huh Tommy? Get out of my sight already,” Newt capitulated easily. Thomas cackled gleefully as he slid from his horse. Newt reached over to grab the reigns as the other boy made sure he had his money pouch and knives on him.

“Do try not to get drunk before I get there,” he called back dryly as he started to guide the horses over to the inn where a stable hand was already waiting to receive the horses. Thomas just waved him off as he set off down the road to the pub. It wasn’t hard to find, only three doors down from the inn (likely by design), and Thomas walked in with a bounce in his step.

It was sparsely lit inside and barely crowded, only a few people sitting at the bar and a handful more scattered around at the small number of tables. Thomas stepped around the few tables scattered in the middle and made his way to the bar where he slid onto an open stool. Completely unintentionally, though luckily for him, his choice of seat put him right next to a rather handsome man. Thomas ogled him subtly from the corner of his eye before he gestured for a drink from the barman and finally let himself relax.

“So, passing through?” the man next to him spoke up suddenly. Thomas glanced over, surprised. The man looked at him with an intensity that sent shivers down his spine, and Thomas suddenly felt much better about stopping here. He nodded and grinned.

“You?”

The man grinned good-naturedly and shrugged. “Got some surprising news from a friend, figured I’d head back home to help them out. You?”

“Visiting family,” Thomas lied smoothly. “I’m Bryan,” he introduced himself. The man nodded and offered a ‘Max’ as introduction.

The barman finally gave Thomas his drink and he grabbed it. Max was already holding his own so the two of them toasted before they both drank. Thomas didn’t bother to hide the way he checked Max out this time – the man really was rather handsome.

Max stared back as he lowered his drink. Thomas held the gaze, hardly embarrassed by his attraction, and Max slowly smiled, something suggestive now added to his gaze. Thomas smiled back, very much liking where this was going, and positioned himself a bit closer to his companion.

He was sure Newt would forgive him for this if he’d been here to see Max himself.

After all, no one said he couldn’t have a bit of fun before he met his fiancé.

-

When Thomas woke the next morning, the sun was still hiding and the moon on its descent towards the horizon. He sighed and rolled over to see Max already up and dressed, in the process of pulling on his boots.

“I’s too early t’ be travelin’,” he managed to slur out comprehensibly as he yawned.

Max turned back to him and grinned. He sat back down on the bed and leaned down to press their lips together more chastely than he had the night previous.

“Gotta get back unfortunately. Got a meeting later this afternoon that I can’t be late for.”

Max didn’t protest as Thomas, unsatisfied, pulled him down for another, longer kiss. Thomas hummed in pleasure as Max licked into his mouth. He sat up slowly and wrapped his arms around Max’s next to get better leverage.

“Ah, ah,” Max laughed as he pulled away. Thomas whined but Max didn’t relent. “Nope, sorry. I really do need to go. It was a… pleasure, meeting you though,” Max grinned as he slid his eyes over Thomas’ barely covered figure.

Thomas collapsed back down on the bed and grinned as he enjoyed the attention, even if he was disappointed that he hadn’t been able to tempt Max into anything more. Max stood up and reached for his cloak. “Have fun with your family,” he threw over his shoulder as he put it on and opened the door.

“Good luck with your friend,” Thomas returned, already rolling over and burrowing himself back into the pillow and sheets.

He was asleep before the door closed again.

-

“Enjoy your night then?” Newt smirked as Thomas shifted once more in his saddle. Thomas didn’t bother feeling embarrassed, as it was hardly the first-time Newt had to see him the morning after a hookup. And he definitely had nothing to be embarrassed about with Max.

“It was great,” he shot back instead.

“I certainly hope so, that’s the last time you’re gonna be able to do that after all.”

“Totally worth it.”

With the exception of the occasional bit of small talk, the rest of the trip was made in silence, and utterly uneventful, something Thomas was grateful for. Boring trips meant safe trips, and those were always preferable to the other option. The pace Newt had set for them was hard and fast too, which meant that a little after noon that day found them just outside the capital city of Isax, having passed the border into the kingdom four hours ago.

“Do you think this will really work out?” Thomas spoke up as they slowed their pace just down the road from the entry gates.

The uncertainty that colored his tone was a surprise to Newt. He reached over to grab Thomas’ hand in response and he looked over to see Newt smiling at him, eyes soft.

“Remember Tommy, if anyone can make this work it’ll be you. And I meant what I said – if this turns out to be a horrible mistake I’ll get you out of it, okay?” the seriousness in his eyes let Thomas know just what Newt meant by take care of it if Minho turned out to be the type of person the prince of Equis had turned out to be.

Thomas took a deep breath and nodded. “Thanks,” he replied, and Newt released his hand.

“I’d do anything for you Tommy, you know that. Now shut up and stop trying to stall, I know what you’re doing,” Newt smirked.

“You’re the one that stared it!” Thomas protested as he reached out to smack Newt, but he was already pulling his horse away at a gallop. Thomas grinned and gave chase as they blew past the open entry gate to the capital, no guards posted to stop them. They raced through the semi-packed streets of the city, most people bemused by their race, while a few people cursed at them.

It wasn’t until the palace gates that they encountered any real resistance. They drew their horses to a stop as the guards moved to block them from entering.

“Who are you and what is your business here?” one of them stated as he glared at them.

Thomas drew himself up and pulled the mask he’d developed to navigate around royal life around him. Newt had switched into manservant mode and sniffed as he looked haughtily down at the guard as he moved slightly in front of Thomas. “You are addressing his Royal Highness, Crown Prince Thomas, of the Kingdom Bassau. He is here on royal business, and you will allow is entrance at once and make sure our arrival is announced,” Newt held up Thomas’ royal seal as he spoke, proof of his words.

The guards started to trip over themselves to apologize as they opened the gate. Someone on the inside went racing into the castle, probably to inform them that they’d arrived. By the time everything had been checked and verified and opened and they’d made their way to the entrance there were servants there ready to greet them and take their bags.

“Your Highness, please, let me show you to your rooms. We’ve already informed Her Majesty of your arrival and she bids you to make yourself comfortable before joining her and His Majesty in his study before dinner. If it pleases your Highness,” the head butler bowed as he spoke, the words tripping a bit over his tongue as he raced to get them out.

New and Thomas shot each other a bemused look behind the man’s back as he turned to show them to their rooms. Thomas had to bite his lip as he slid form his horse and fell into step behind the man, Newt falling in a moment later.

Their rooms were up on the third floor and down a long hall that had Newt twitchy, much to Thomas’ amusement. They were a good, ten-minute walk from the entrance however, which seemed to appease Newt a little.

“Ah, here you are Your Highness. There is, of course, an attached sleeping quarters for you manservant as well,” the man said as he gestured to the room. The door had been propped open for them and Thomas could see his bags already set up at the end of the bed.

“Thank you,” Thomas turned to the man as Newt slipped inside. “If we need anything I’ll be sure to let you know.” The man beamed then stumbled again as he turned and walked away. Thomas watched him for a moment longer before he shook his head and looked back into the room where Newt had finished up his inspection. Newt gave the all clear and Thomas stepped inside with a sigh as he closed the door behind him.

“Well he was… enthusiastic.”

“That’s one word for it,” Newt snorted as he started to unpack Thomas’ bags, carefully checking them over as well. Thomas walked over and collapsed on the bed as Newt started to put his things away once he’d cleared the bags as well. “You should probably get cleaned and re-dressed,” Newt pointed out as he left an outfit out for his meeting with the royal family and the subsequent dinner they should expect. Thomas only groaned and rolled over as his body started to relax after a long day of riding, the aches and pains associated with it after 3 days of nothing else starting to make themselves known.

“But I’m sore,” he complained.

Newt rolled his eyes, entirely unsympathetic. “If you get cleaned now I’ll give you a massage before you get dressed,” he bargained, and Thomas was up like a shot.

“Well, when you put it like that,” he drawled. Newt just shook his head and went back to what he was doing as Thomas dragged himself into a standing position and made his way into the bathroom. It took him a little longer to get ready than it normally would on account of the extra dirt and grime caked onto him from the road. It was amazing how dirty you could get, even in less than a day.

The massage from Newt helped dramatically and managed to chase away any remaining tenseness he held. Newt helped him into his clothes after, a habit from their younger days together that they had never quite managed to kick when they got older. A knock sounded on the door as Thomas finished lacing his boots up. Newt was at the door in a flash, hand resting subtly on one of the hidden daggers he held on his person. He blocked the entryway as he opened the door and turned a fierce glare on whoever was on the opposite side.

“A-ah, um, I, I’m here to ah, e-escort his Highness to h-his Majesties, u-um study?” the guy stuttered, sounding more like he was asking Newt his permission than stating a fact. Newt glanced him over then shut the door in his face. Thomas stifled a laugh as Newt turned to him.

“Ready?”

“If you are,” Thomas stood. “Though do try not to terrify the locals too much, okay?”

“No promises,” Newt muttered as he followed Thomas out of the room. The servant was still waiting, obviously terrified, and Thomas snorted as the guy squeaked when he caught sight of Newt. They followed the skittish man down the hall, up a staircase, and down two more winding hallways. If Thomas hadn’t been used to living in castles and memorizing the ridiculous layouts he’d be hopelessly lost.

The servant knocked on the door and a moment later there was a faint ‘come in!’ called from inside. The servant opened the door and gestured for them to enter, shrinking away when Newt stepped forward first.

They entered the room a moment later, the servant scurrying away as quickly as possible as the two of them moved to stand in front of the large desk that stood proudly in the center of the room. Her Majesty stood next to the desk, a kind smile on her face as she stepped forward to greet them, while His Majesty sat silently in his chair.

“Prince Thomas, I must say, it is a pleasure to finally meet you,” the Queen took his hands in hers and pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek in greeting.

“Your Majesty, I assure you, the pleasure is all mine,” he returned. He gripped one of her hands tightly in his and brought it up to press a kiss to the back of it. She laughed, delighted.

“Please, I insist you call me Sunye, your Majesty is far too formal. We’re going to be family after all!”

Thomas was a bit surprised at that but he hid it expertly. “Sunye then, if you’ll call me Thomas.”

“Thomas,” the Queen beamed. “Come, meet my husband. Minho will be along momentarily,” she directed as she guided him forward. The King rose and stepped out from behind the desk as the Queen brought Thomas closer.

“Prince Thomas,” he held out a hand and Thomas grasped it firmly. “I hope your travel from Bassau was comfortable, no issues on the road?” he questioned as Thomas dropped his hand.

“It was a very peaceful and boring ride,” Thomas assured, and the King smiled, which made him appear years younger.

“Good, good. As Sunye said, Minho should be here momentarily, he was a bit delayed, unfortunately. He only arrived back late this morning from a three-day hunting trip he’d taken with some friends up in the mountain ranges that serve as the border between our two kingdoms.”

“I completely understand,” Thomas assured, not wanting to make the King feel like he’d felt slighted in some way by the fact that his fiancé wasn’t here to greet him. Honestly, the few extra minutes to mentally prepare were more than welcome.

Naturally, another knock sounded on the door just then, likely announcing Minho’s arrival. Thomas didn’t have to look to know Newt had moved over subtly behind Thomas, focus on the door in case the person on the other side wasn’t Minho.

“That must be him now!” The King gestured. “Come in!”

Thomas was still facing the King, mentally preparing himself, so he didn’t see the Prince right away, unlike Newt, who snorted, which should have been Thomas’s first clue.

“Minho, there you are darling, please, come here. I’d like you to meet Crown Prince Thomas of Bassau, your betrothed,” Sunye called as she moved forward to greet him. Thomas took a deep breath and turned to greet his future husband, princely smile firmly in place.

And then he promptly froze when he saw a very familiar figure standing in front of him.

“Max?!”

“Bryan?!”

They gaped at each other unattractively as they both got a good look at each other. Sunye, who had moved around to join her husband, watched them in amusement.

“I see you two have met already,” she said dryly, eyes laughing at them.

Thomas didn’t notice this however as he was still gazing dumbly at Minho (who was actually Max, what?) and vividly remembering the way Minho tasted on his tongue, the way his muscles rippled under his skin, the sounds Minho made when Thomas had –

Thomas flushed and knew that Newt was laughing at him.

Fucking perfect.

part 2

[singt0me]

i assure you

that when this life ends

and the dust settles

i will find you

in the next  – R.H. Sin.

For Hard Rock|Callisto - Coming Soon.

[makethiscanon]

How Gally reacts to finding scared fem!reader in the box.

O-ho-ho, it’s finally time for my writing to breach the TMR fandom:

------

Oh shuck, it’s a girl.

Gally is automatically wary, realising you might throw off the harmony of the Glade as the only female so far.

He’s still the first to jump down into the box to help you out of there.

“You alright, greenie? Able to stand?”

Never mind the standing. He finds out you can scream real fast.

He keeps his distance for your sake as you thrash around.

He gets why you’re telling everyone to back off.

But when you desperately lunge for a spear amongst this month’s box supplies, he grapples you to the floor without a second thought.

"Slim it. You're gonna hurt yourself."

He’s impressed by your instincts but keeps you pinned until the weapons are hauled out of the box, out of reach.

For the amount you’re screaming in his ear, he expects to be deaf by the end of this fiasco.

He uses his whole body to pin you, his large hands gripping your smaller wrists above your head as you try and fail to headbutt him.

He has to smirk at the tenacity.

The other gladers are laughing, clapping and egging you on as if you have any chance against him.

But no matter how much you struggle, your strength is no match for the Keeper of the Builders. Come back once you’ve had a few years of hard grafting in the Glade and he’ll see.

But for now, the fact you can’t get loose only seems to amp up your panic.

Lucky then that Newt, the ever-calming second-in-command, bounces down into the box to intervene.

“You’ve got such a way with the ladies, Gally. Now hop off. Mounting her isn’t a good way to say hello.”

Gally brushes off Newt’s ribbing despite the laughter from the other gladers, then let’s go once the second-in-command has you calmed down.

He waits a few moments more until he knows you’re not going to start another ruckus then hauls himself out of the box.

The other gladers tease him so he shoves them, telling them to wind their necks in, then watches the rest of your exchange with Newt with interest.

A livewire like you is going to cause unknown chaos in the Glade, he shucking knows it.

------

[WRITING MASTERLIST]

[crankparadise]

✿ The Scorch Trials: Untold Chapters - Chapter Two

Read chapter 1 here! Beta'd again by commodorenewt, thanks bud.

Chapter Two

It was just past noon, the sun was at its most piercing. There was no point in hurrying to trek straight to the mountain under the scorching midday sun. Fed and watered for now, the boys had energy in their veins. But the current fullness of their stomachs was a comfort that wouldn't last. So, their first step was to take care of the fact that they were almost completely unarmed, and without food. 

While they had been walking, anxiety had grown in the minds of the Gladers. This arose due to the signs plastered on every available surface about Thomas being the "real leader". The one that Newt pointed out to Minho, wasn’t a one off. They were everywhere. Like a poison, the unsettling presence of the signs had unsettled the majority of the group. The signs were on the sides of buildings and branded into battered curbs. They had been roughly hammered onto homes that had been empty for years. They were hanging off dead trees. Some even replaced the licence plates of some burnt out cars. The signs felt like a revolution was growing in the City, with Thomas as the forefront. But was it for their side, or against them? 

As they walked further into the City, most of the boys made reference to the signs, first in glances, then mentioned in paranoid muttering. Their original mistrust of Thomas from the Glade was seeping back in his absence. Even Aris looked unnerved. The feelings of mistrust and distress had re-grown among the group like a disease. Yet Minho and Newt remained silent and in denial about the signs. They were definitely unnerved by them. But at least the coincidental signs confirmed Thomas' importance, increasing his chance of surviving without them. The undertones of distress and mistrust soon blossomed into visible anger and fear. These feelings stood between them like an unwelcome ghost; invisible and dividing them. It came to the point that it was all that they could think about, especially when the words stood out on a billboard next to one of the Chancellor. Jorge had no choice but to address the issue, to relieve the anxiety that the signs were causing among the group. He soon put the matter to bed; explaining that the signs only confirmed Thomas' importance, increasing the necessity that they follow anything to do with him. Follow him, to get a cure, and assure their own survival. Then he had looked at Newt and Minho like he knew. He told them that, since the signs were everywhere, even the Cranks will keep Thomas alive. Even as if it was as a hostage. It was a small hope, but they clung onto it for dear life, as it was all they had. They pushed the issue to the back of their minds. Thomas was gone, for now. But the weight of his significance felt like a presence itself, making it like he had never left at all. They crossed the cluster of crusty buildings that they hadn't noticed were so close. The group had decided to take to some of the less obvious routes. Heading towards what must have been the centre of the City. Jorge had made a show of listening to the ground for Cranks. Then, he swooped his head around at all angles for any sign of them.   They found they were without any unwanted company, for now.   So they made their weary way into a set of darkening alleys, which relieved them from the sun. But it did anything but relieve them of their anticipation for danger. The alleys were intimidating and intersecting. They were piled high with boxes upon boxes of trash and unwanted furniture. They were also crowded with full, car-sized trash crates. These smelt like death itself. They were protected from the sun by the alley walls but despite this, they were cooking in the inescapable baking heat of the sun. "Alright, my ugly ducklings." Jorge finally said, after they escaped the sun, having walked into the middle of the alien alleys. He drew in a long snort, and spat it over to his right. "First stop, I have a glamorous job for us. Spread out here, and look for anything sharp enough to kill with among these trash cans. Oh, and also, anything strong enough to tie them to, and strong enough to tie them with." There was no argument. They were happy to finally have something constructive to do, as well to have something to distract them from the signs about Thomas. The group dispersed into twos and threes, digging through the huge crates of trash, among the unwanted furniture that decorated the alleys. The mood lightened as the boys began to chatter among themselves as they worked, finally having a chance to goof around. Jorge was still barking advice at them as they scattered further on. He said something about glass and something about avoiding longer sticks. There was no doubt among them that the guy knew what he was doing. Within minutes, they were making great progress. They had almost a dozen makeshift weapons piled up where they alleys intersected; which though looked shabby, still looked somewhat threatening. There were already enough weapons for two each. But they planned to make more than they needed for obvious reasons. In case some got broken or damaged as they used them. The boys were familiar with constructing makeshift objects and weapons out of whatever they had, or whatever they could find. The chore felt like they were back in the glade. The intersecting alley paths felt like the maze. These similarities were shudder-worthy so no one addressed them out loud. In their minds, the boys couldn't decide whether spending their afternoon in this place, making weapons this way, was reminding them of home, or of hell. "Still more glamorous than trudgin' through that buggin' desert under bedsheets." Newt said. Minho found himself smiling then; which was odd, given everything. "Don't act like you didn't love sharing that sheet with me, shank." He responded. "That was some cosy stuff." Within 20 minutes, Minho and Newt found themselves hunting on their own, away from the rest of the group. In that time, Newt had already found the end of a hammer and a load of barbed wire; as well as a sharp slate and a large old sock that he threw at Minho. Minho had managed to find a small ball of cord and a pounding headache from the heat. He finally planted himself on the ground, dust lifting into the air around him as he did. They must have been doing this for hours now. He brushed away the brown air and looked up. Just in time to see Newt scraping grime off a large trash crate. It roughly revealed the words "SCRAP METAL". He watched as Newt unhinged it with his trusty hammer-end and climbed in. His long legs dangled for a moment. Then he vanished into the crate. "Scrap metal my ass, there's bloody nothing metal in here. Unless you count empty tins." Newt's voice was like metal. It was tinny and echoed.   "Oh, whats- ha, hey Min', I found another bedsheet we-" Newt was cut off by a metallic clang.   At the sudden noise, Minho lifted his head from his ball of cord, surprised to see the bin that Newt was in, fall back to its original position. It must have lifted on one side for a second. As if something had weighed down the side Newt had climbed into. A scrawny looking cat with barely any fur on its body at all scrambled out, then, clumsy claws bared with fright. It ran for cover behind Minho, who was already laughing. "Newt, you okay buddy? Make a friend in there?" He called coyly. Some of the other Gladers had poked round to see what was so funny, Frypan, Aris and a few others. The seconds of no response that followed made Minho's heart sink. Grim expressions formed around him. The Gladers closed in further and Minho jumped to his feet.   "Newt?" Minho tried again. The group relaxed when Newt poked his head out of the bin a second later. But Minho didn't relax, something wasn't right. Newt's eyes were wide, his breathing hitched in shock. He babbled something unintelligible, staring at something at the opposite side of the crate. A thin scratch was starting to blossom into a cut on his cheekbone. "Minho, you won't, believe what's-" "IVAN!" A shrill voice shrieked from behind Newt, it came from within the trash crate. The sound bounced off the inside of the crate and all around them, echoing off the walls of the alleys. Then Newt was yanked abruptly back with another clang, a small flash of yellow scrambled out of the crate. climbing over him. Minho was there in an instant, running to where Newt was. But the small form speedily jumped down and ran through his legs after the cat. Minho gathered Newt out of the bin and helped him climb out. Newt rebuked the help as he always did, touching the scratch on his face. No one else moved. So Minho ran back over aiming to tackle the mysterious yellow creature. To show it who was in-charge. "Don't, Minho. It's a kid." Newt said quickly, sounding as confused as they all looked, his words stopped Minho in his tracks. "It's a little girl." Newt said again. "You ruiner! You stupid ruiner!" The little girl shouted at Newt, shaking her grubby fists at either side of her. Her small size said she couldn't have been more than four or five years old. Her mousy-blonde hair was long, tangled into bunches at the ends and reached the end of her coat.  "You made Ivan scared and now he's gone!" She hugged herself, huffing and blinking away tears. Then she threw her arms behind herself. Baring her tiny teeth with fists pointed behind her in defence. She edged forward towards the group of boys, snarling, by no means intimidated by them. "What are you looking at?" She shrieked at them and snapped her clean teeth like an angry puppy. She must have thought she looked like a Crank. When what she actually looked like was a little girl pretending to be a Crank. Frypan and a few others actually stepped back at her advance. Minho finally rolled his eyes at the ridiculousness of the entire situation. "You gotta be shuckin' me." He muttered. "Look, I dunno what you want, kid-" "Don't call me 'kid', kid!" The little girl snapped back. Then to the shock of the other Gladers, she produced a tiny kitchen knife, pointing it at Minho. It was oddly very reminiscent of how Brenda had threatened him before. The boys stepped back and this time Minho raised his arms too. A little girl versus a group of 6 teenage boys, yet the little ball of anger had full control. "Tell me what you want! Kid!"She yelled. All the boys came in to explain at once. "She's like a shuckin' gremlin..." "Slim it kid, we ain't here to cause any hurt. Ya' dumb little-" "We were just looking... in the trash for sharp things." "You just go into your little trash hut all nice and good." "Shh, the lot of you can slim it altogether, it's my fault. I'm sorry I scared your cat, darlin'." Newt's voice was soft, and due to this, the little girl turned to him, lowering her tiny knife. She looked particularly frightened by the boys' sudden bombardment of explanations. Kneeling down, Newt dipped his head at the little girl. "I'm sure he'll come back, what's your name?" "Yeah, Newt. Perfect time for baby talk." Minho said. "Sure, he'll come back. He'll come cruisin' right back in a stretch limo with a magic wand. Then he'll cure us all of the shuckin' Flare." Minho strode over to the kid. Her childlike attention was still grasped by the gentleness in Newt's voice; it seemed to have knocked off all her defensiveness. Before she could answer the question, Minho swiped the tiny knife out of her hand, tossing it to Frypan. Then he gathered up the yelping, struggling bundle of yellow which was trying her best to bite his hand. He placed her back into the metal crate. As he caught a glimpse of the inside of the crate, Minho felt a jab at his heart. This little girl hadn't been hiding, she must have lived here. The crate was roughly the width of a small car. It was lined with blankets in a careful way too neat to be the work of a child. It was littered with empty tins as well as a lot of full tins. There were sad-looking pillows; one must have been for the cat. There was also a pile of small tattered books and an old cuddly toy.   Minho stepped back; someone had put her here, recently, maybe for good. She shrieked and waved her arms to get out of the crate. But with her tiny limbs and without Newt as her ladder she was trapped. Panicking and upset by the whole ordeal, she began to cry. "Oy oy, what's going on over here? A social gathering?" Jorge's rough voice parted the semicircle of boys. The little girl was wailing and trashing about in the crate. Her arms were in frantic motion, her small hands grabbing at nothing. She was reaching for the source of the kind voice before. Sighting the distraught little girl, Jorge folded his arms. He turned to glower at Minho. The boys started chattering in explanation together once again. Jorge silenced them with a single loud clap. "One at a time! I don't have much mental health left to spare on you kids. Care to explain the hold up, monkey-boy?" "N-, We were looking in this scrap metal crate thing, and there was a kid in it. That's all, no hold up. We put it back where it came from, we can head on." Minho stomped out of the circle to retrieve more make-shift weapons; he was trying to appear gruff and tired of the commotion on the outside, trying to stifle the sunken feeling he had on the inside. The feeling that came with seeing the little girl's few belongings which was only emphasised by hearing her cry, reaching for freedom. Jorge turned his glare on the little girl. She hid most of her face behind the edge of the cart, sniffing hard every few seconds. The little girl's eyes darted back to Newt. He nodded in encouragement at her. "My cat ran away." She said to Jorge in a small voice. Something must have softened in the man then. He tutted like he understood.   "These idiots scare your kitty away?" She nodded fast, looking frightened and half confused. Then Jorge covered his mouth and chin in thought. The other boys erupted again, bickering over what they should do about the child. Newt moved in towards the girl, and her tears stopped. Delighted at finally getting his attention, she grabbed fistfuls of Newt's hair gratefully. "What are we gonna do, you ask?!" Frypan's voice rose above the clashing voices of the others. He addressed them all, but his eyes were on Newt. "We're gonna do what were always gonna shuckin' do! Make weapons and get the hell out of here! Why is this kid even under discussion?" Frypan's brash comment sparked off further debates. From the sound of things, most of the boys agreed with him. Minho walked back towards them and found some of them were already looking his way. He felt like a shucking ringleader with no shucking ring. Aris had stepped beside Newt, as silent as ever. "We can't- she... she was just put here." Newt said, but he must have known his argument was weak. "She'll die. We can't just leave her." "Fry's right." Minho said as softly as he could, he had to pretend his heart was as hard as stone, or maybe it was by now. "We don't have time for extra baggage, Newt. The kid-" "My name is Rosie!" The little girl shouted. "I'm not a kid, I'm just small.. I'm nine!" she was making her way onto Newt's shoulders and he made no effort to stop her. "I have to find my mom!"   Jorge raised his eyebrows, contemplating. He displayed his open palms to the boys as if a solution was developing. Then he turned to Rosie again. He was as unpredictable as ever. "Do you know where your mommy went, niña?" Rosie looked up from where she was burying her face into Newt's neck.   "The mall! She went to find daddy, he's got the sickness really bad." Minho came in further into complete the semi-circle for a better look. Every pair of eyes looked towards Rosie to continue. She was suddenly very shy, and sunk into Newt, tucking her arms into her chest. "My mom is a 'munie, they all say so. She said I have the sickness now too. I'm a Crank."As she said it, she left a pause for reflection. Like her story was like no other child in the world, like she didn't expect them to understand right away. "Mom said I have to wait here until I am an angel." With this, she flapped her little arms like wings before looking ashamed of herself as if she had done something wrong. She deflated against Newt once more. "I'm not an angel yet, I'm still waiting." Rosie didn't look as though she knew the meaning behind anything she was saying. She was just a lost little girl, repeating the words from the last time she would ever hear her mother's voice. Reality rippled through the crowd of boys, causing an almost palpable stir of sorrow among them. The true hopelessness of this place was one they were now seeing first hand. The little girl struck a chord in the hearts of each Glader, even those willing to leave Rosie behind. Something hung in the air. Like the closing lament of a sad song. Rosie's mother, in the most loving way she could, had left her daughter here to die. "Listen, guys. We can't risk our necks for one kid." Minho started, feeling like the devil himself, though most of the boys looked prepared to understand. In their current situation, they simply could not afford to waste time. Especially not detouring for a little girl who said she was already a Crank. Newt was shaking his head at the ground. Minho tried to ignore it for the sake of leadership, but it was no use, it was all he could see. "We just can't, guys. We need to finish this shuck thing in the hope of saving maybe a bunch of kids like her." Minho said, what he said was brutal, but it made sense. Newt looked directly at Minho then, disappointment was filling his angry eyes. Minho knew exactly what the look meant. It was like he saw a friend but heard a stranger. It was like he hoped to hear the best of Minho, but heard the worst of Alby.   "Who are you?" he spat. "Right, well, you're in luck, little hermana," Jorge started, failing like anyone would, in attempting to cut the tension between Minho and Newt. He wiggled a finger at Rosie. She snapped her teeth at it. "I'll tell you what. If you'd be kind enough to share any food you have with us, we were gonna head to the mall anyway. It's right at the end of the City. We'll help you find your mommy." He bowed humbly yet theatrically towards her, like a jester to a Queen. Minho sneered at the fact that Jorge would so quickly suggest the good-guy solution,. the easy answer which would no doubt get them into a load of klunk. Not to mention without any consultation towards the whole group, was that leadership? He tried to share a look with Newt to express the feeling. But catching the anger in each other’s eyes and reading it wrong, they dropped their gaze instantly. Newt flicked his eyes up to Jorge now. Rosie, sported the expression like that of a sceptical business owner. She extended a grubby pinky finger towards Jorge. "Promise?" She asked carefully. Jorge sucked his front teeth with his tongue, evidently hiding a smile by pretending to contemplate the contract. Then, as seriously as it was offered, he accepted the pinky oath. "Promise." He said sternly. "You just keep these boys in line. They'll make sure no crazy Cranks go biting of your little face off." She only frowned and snorted at him. He snapped at her in the same fear-mongering way he played with the Gladers. Something about Jorge's Crank-like habits were ostentacious, and felt rehearsed. Rosie's were forced as well, but in a different way. Like this animalistic behaviour was the only way she had ever seen other people behave. And she too, behaved this way so often, that it was now part of her. Something about her didn't seem like she was the Crank she thought she was. "We're all cranks, here, Rosie." Newt said to her gently when the group dispersed. He didn't look at Minho. "Won't let anyone hurt ya'. We're all on the same side."   Rosie rocked her head against him; her trust in Newt came easily. Just as easily as it had come to every greenie that grew into a  Glader. Minho walked on ahead. He and Jorge made their way to the weapons as joint leaders and separate entities, walking the same way, but with different thoughts; the same goals, but with different reasons to achieve them, the same morals, with different ways of expression. They faced away from each other like enemies, when they were more like two different sides of the same coin; distant, alien to one another, but part of the same thing. Minho knew he felt more unlike Jorge than he had ever felt unlike a person, ever. Jorge, didn't care enough to even think about these things. They were not good cop, bad cop. They both had the good cop in them, yet they both had the bad cop there too. There was so much misunderstanding dividing them that they didn't even try to reach a mid-way point. Two leaders cannot lead a group when they are on opposing sides. But how can two leaders lead a group when they are very much on the same side, but believe the other to be against them? At a time so desperate, when there only is one side to choose? They tossed the weapons into the hands of the Gladers, who strapped them to their backs. They were ready to make further progress into the City. Minho was armed with two sharp knives. Which were actually sharpened slates tied to stubs of wood. Jorge left himself with a large sword-type dagger. The weapon was oddly reminiscent of Jorge himself as it was ridiculous and terrifying at the same time. They had enough of Rosie's food to last them until the end of the day. But not much further if they wanted to keep their energy.   Newt walked weapon-less beside Minho as they made their way out of the alleys. Rosie had wanted her own weapon back and was now between the two of them. Tiny kitchen knife bared. She chattered on excitedly to no one in particular. Tension was still ripe between Minho and Newt. Despite the tension, which would lead into a fight soon. They still walked close. Minho had grown to know Newt well enough to be sure he wouldn't be angry at him for long. Newt had known Minho long enough, to know that he wasn't in need of his own weapons for protection. Like soulmates, or brothers, they were far too used to the comfort of their bond, too used to each other to appreciate each other as often as they should, or as often as they could; If things had been different.   They had been together long enough to take each other's presence completely for granted. There was irony, in how Rosie looked like a child but felt like a Crank. When the boys looked like Cranks but felt like children. The now slightly extended group of Gladers made their way into the main streets of abandoned buildings. Jorge told them that far-gone Cranks were too scared to go this deep into the City. So they had avoided them at least. The heat was laying off and it was getting dusky. It must have been the late afternoon. Cranks or no Cranks, the City that they had earlier believed to be a deserted wasteland, was now something different.   There were eyes in shattered windows now. There were shadows on the streets. They weren't alone anymore. This was an inhabited City.