#newt and gally are best buds

[arcadian-litterateur]

there's many different ways to kill the one you love | newt x oc

Masterlist

summary: when thomas finds a picture of a blonde girl above newt's bed, alby tells him the story of frankie, the first glader—and the first glader to die.

wc: 9.4k bc I tried to fit so much backstory and trauma in I'm so sorry

warnings: self-harm, suicidal thoughts, suicide, panic attacks, nightmares, blood, newt and frankie make out at one point but there's nothing explicit bc they're literal children

a/n: this is a heavy one, be warned. also ik that technically there is a male frankie in tmr but ignore that bc i love the name frankie for a girl and rosalind franklin was a queen. btw, this fic follows movie lore-where thirty boys didn't come up all at once. also, thomas is there for longer before teresa comes up and everything goes down. newt and frankie are fourteen. alby is seventeen.

frankie is played by emily skinner

𝗡𝗘𝗪𝗧 𝗛𝗔𝗗 been given the job of befriending Greenies a long time ago, and that meant he was friends with just about everyone. But being friends with people didn't necessarily mean opening up to them. Newt didn't like talking about his feelings. Even Alby, who'd spent more time with Newt than was probably good for him, couldn't always figure the boy out. He tried, and often he succeeded to some extent, but even he couldn't force Newt to process his trauma—which is what he needed to do. Alby simply held out hope that Newt would open up to a Greenie one day. And hopefully not terrify them while still doing the emotional processing he needed to. And soon, because Newt was starting to get lost in his head again; Alby could tell, and the last time it had gotten bad, Newt had ended up with a limp. Alby couldn't afford something worse.

When Thomas came up in the box, Newt took an immediate shine to him. He was funny and stupid and needed a voice of reason. Newt figured he was pretty good at that so he gladly stepped into that role. What he wasn't prepared for was the amount of questions that poured from Thomas's mouth. And they weren't "normal" Greenie questions either—they were invasive and private and prying. Newt didn't like it. He also didn't answer. But he knew Thomas was wearing him down—and he knew he was going to snap at the boy soon.

A week after Thomas arrived, he met Newt by his cot, ready to do his trial in the Garden. He saw a small, grainy photo of a petite blonde girl sitting in front of what looked like a makeshift Med-jack hut. She looked incredibly frail and had dark bags under her eyes, but these observations paled when Thomas saw the bright, beautiful smile on the girl's face. The photo was taped to the wall above Newt's cot, but the corners were worn, as if it had also been kept in a pocket for a period of time.

"Who is that girl?" Thomas asked Newt, who was grabbing his water jug out from under his cot. Newt looked to where Thomas was pointing and almost instantly recoiled slightly.

"That's Frankie," he mumbled, not meeting Thomas's eyes.

Thomas's brow furrowed. "But I thought you guys said there aren't any girls in the Glade."

Newt fixed his gaze pointedly on the brunet, "There aren't." Then, obviously unwilling to say anymore, he briskly walked out.

Thomas inched closer to the photo. Yes, the girl was definitely in the Glade, and he could see the Maze walls towering above the hut that the girl—Frankie, Newt had called her—was leaning on.

Thomas reached a hand up to examine the picture more closely when he heard, "Shank, don't touch things that aren't yours!" Thomas whirled around and saw Gally glaring at him. "Newt has been through enough, don't take his klunk."

"I-I wasn't!" Thomas protested.

"Yeah?" Gally scoffed, "It sure looked like it."

"I just want to know who Frankie is!" Thomas explained.

He saw something change in the other boy's eyes, who gruffly replied, "Go ask Alby if you want to know about Frankie." Then the sandy-haired boy turned on his heel and left, calling over his shoulder, "And keep your hands to yourself, shank!"

Thomas knew he should join Newt in the Garden by now. He was risking time in the Slammer now, but his curiosity got the better of him. He was just too intrigued by the picture of the girl and Newt and Gally's cryptic reactions. So instead of reporting to the Garden, he went and found Alby, who was on his way back to the Homestead after meeting with the Keeper of the Bricknicks about supply needs. "Hey, Alby!" the brunet called out.

The chocolate-skinned man paused and turned to Thomas. "You realize you're supposed to be with the Track-hoes this morning, right?" he asked.

"Yes," Thomas replied,"but I really need to ask you about something, because no one else will talk to me."

Alby sighed, looking at his watch. "Okay, ask away, but you gotta walk with me."

Thomas fell in step with the leader of the Glade and asked, "Who is Frankie, and why is there a picture of her over Newt's bed?"

Alby stopped dead in his tracks and swore, "Well, shuck, kid. Is that why Newt looked so sad?"

Thomas shrugged, "Maybe? I'm confused, though."

Alby ignored Thomas's explanation and turned to Chuck, instructing the curly-haired boy, "Go make sure Newt took his meds this morning, and tell Luke to keep an eye on him. I want to catch any possible situations while they're still manageable. Make sure Luke always sends someone with Newt if he leaves his sight." Chuck nodded and raced towards the Garden, leaving a stressed-out Alby and an even more confused Thomas outside the Homestead.

"Did I do something?" the brunet inquired, visibly lost.

"Maybe," Alby replied, which was not the answer Thomas wanted. "But you didn't mean to. The Greenies never do." At this, the dark-skinned male turned to the younger boy and chuckled, "Do you want some explanation now?"

"Yes," Thomas begged, "please."

"Then come on," Alby motioned towards his room, which was set apart from the rest. "We can talk here. It's a long story and I don't want to be interrupted." Thomas and Alby settled onto the floor, the former looking expectantly at the latter. With a deep breath, Alby started talking.

_______________________________

𝗘𝗩𝗘𝗥𝗬 𝗚𝗟𝗔𝗗𝗘𝗥 is told upon arrival that Alby was the first boy to come up in the Box. This is true. Every Glader assumes that this means Alby was the first Glader. This is not true. And it's not a secret—not really, but every Glader knows that you don't talk about the first Glader. No one but Alby tells the story, and no one bothers Newt about it. It's an unspoken rule in the Glade, one that gets slowly absorbed by all Gladers.

The first Glader was named Frankie.

It was dark, but Frankie could see a few specks of light floating through holes in whatever contraption she was trapped in. Whatever it was, the teenage girl could tell it was hurtling upwards by the G-forces pressing her back into the sharp wooden corner of some sort of crate. Her eyes had adjusted slightly, and she could tell now that she was in some sort of cage—a metal box filled with crates, barrels, and…her. She scanned the crates, unable to tell what they could contain, her mind only registering several letters on the side of one of the crates: ‘W.C.K.D.’ But Frankie didn't have much time to take this in before—SLAM!

As the Box (as she'd named it in her head) reached its final destination (she assumed), it jolted, sending her flying backwards into one of the crates. Frankie could feel a jagged edge get caught on the tender skin of her scalp, and when she touched her hand to the wound, it was sticky with blood. With a hiss, she pressed the heel of her palm to the tender spot, gritting her teeth against the sting. On wobbly legs, the blonde stood, steadying herself on a crate. There was sunlight streaming through the lid of the Box, and Frankie tentatively pushed on it. It moved slightly, so Frankie quickly climbed onto a crate, the added height giving her enough momentum to push the lid up and over, effectively freeing her.

But the teenage girl didn't climb out of her cage. Instead, she slumped to its floor as the adrenaline from waking up like this wore off. And as Frankie tried to force breaths into her lungs, a new kind of panic overwhelmed her, because a new fact was becoming apparent—she couldn't remember anything. She had no recollection of why she was here, how'd she'd gotten here, where here even was—and she had no memory of where she'd been before this metal box. The only thing she could remember was her name (Frankie), which she'd recalled when her head had collided with the crate.

Taking a tentative step into the sunlight, Frankie shielded her eyes from its intense rays, surveying what could only be described as a Glade. The air smelled of campfire smoke and fresh, new earth. The Glade was mostly just wide open grass, but there was a cluster of small trees on one side, and a small hut on the other. Surrounding the Glade were four large, stone walls. One had a large gap in it. Frankie squinted, noticing the odd passages branching out from the gap, and it suddenly dawned on her—she was in the middle of a fucking maze.

Frankie had been placed here on purpose.

The only sign that anyone else might live in the Glade was the tiny hut, and so, hoping for any clues as to why she was here, Frankie raced towards it. But she was met with bitter disappointment, because it was completely bare. She realized, anxiety rising, that it was a shell. It was waiting for her. Frankie thought back to the crates she'd ridden up with. They were filled with everything needed to homestead—she'd checked before she'd come to the hut.

Whoever had sent Frankie here was watching, and they wanted her to build a homestead. Build a life here. Frankie ran outside, looked up at the sky, and screeched, “Fuck you!” Then she collapsed to the ground in a heap of sobs.

Once Frankie had regained a bit of functionality, she decided to keep track of the days, so as to keep a sense of the passage of time. By the end of the first day, Frankie had taken everything out of the Box, which was good, because the next morning, it had gone back to wherever it came from. On the third day, Frankie had moved most of the essentials into the Hut. She stacked all food-related items in one area, all clothing and toiletries in another, and had set up a nice makeshift bed in the corner. It wasn't much, but it was a start.

Frankie wasn't a gardener or a scavenger, and she couldn't cook well either, so she hoped the foodstuffs in the crates would last long enough for her to learn those skills through trial and error. She still couldn't figure out why she was in the Glade, or what its Creators could want from her, but the girl could at least try her hand at surviving. She reasoned that someone or something was bound to happen eventually.

At the start of her second week, Frankie, who'd been living off of tally marks, canned fruit, and jerky, started feeling the effects of her gradual loss of hope. Upon arriving in the Glade, the blonde had noticed thin, red scars on her arms in neat, precise rows, and had easily deduced that something in her ‘before’ had caused her to carve those lines into her arms herself. She also reasoned that if she'd fallen into that depression then, she could easily fall into it again. And the longer she went in this Glade alone, with the horrid Maze that shifted in the night and creepy sounds of some kind of creature, the more she felt her mind slipping into a very serious depressed state.

The word ‘hope’ wasn't in her vocabulary anymore.

Frankie’s sixteenth and seventeenth day in the Maze consisted of eating the last of the foodstuffs, wandering aimlessly in the small patch of trees and letting tears trickle down her pale, sunken-in cheeks. She was underfed, overwhelmed, and utterly alone. It had been over two weeks since she'd come up in the Box, and she was still in solitude (not counting the creepy-sounding Maze monsters). She still had no clues as to her real location, her purpose, or her captors. Her situation seemed bleak, and under even darker lenses of examination, (like her handy-dandy depression lens), there seemed to be no way forward.

Frankie decided that if some kind of help hadn't appeared at the one month mark, she would take matters into her own hands. Kill herself.

As the days went by, Frankie became increasingly convinced that the Creators of this place wanted her to venture inside the dark, deadly walls of the Maze.

“Well, I won't do it!” the teenage girl screamed at the sky. “I won't explore your fucking Maze!” Of course, there was no answer, but that didn't weaken her resolve. Frankie was determined to never step foot in the Maze. She was also ignoring just how necessary planting seeds and trying to start a life would be if she wanted to survive. After all, she wasn't really trying to survive. She was already giving up. There was no motivation in her to keep going.

The blonde pondered this, wondering if it made her weak. She was sure, after all, that most people would have the instinct to build a life; a livelihood. Most people would try to get out, or start a garden, or send for help. If anyone else was in her situation, they'd put on an exciting show for whoever was watching. But not Frankie. See, whoever had put her here had made a seemingly grave mistake—they'd placed a girl with an untrustworthy mind in an unfamiliar place and then expected her to try.

Even if logically, she knew what she should do, her fucked-up brain was still going to win every time. She would still sit there, unmotivated and depressed. She would tally the days…and then pass them by staring blankly at the Walls. And if nothing changed by the time one month passed, she would end it. She refused to wait here forever.

At sunrise on the first day of the new month, Frankie put one more tally mark on her makeshift calendar, laid down on her bed, and slit her pale wrists. Fire licked at the cuts, burning her arms before consuming her. After several moments of extreme pain and spots overwhelming her vision, Frankie's eyes shut and it all went black.

She didn't expect—or want—to wake up, but after some unknown passage of time, she did, her eyes unwillingly flickering open as a shuffling sound moved from her left side to her right. When a warm hand gently turned her right wrist so her palm was facing up, her breath caught in her throat and she jumped, her eyes flying open.

“Woah, there, tiger!” Frankie stared at the dark-skinned boy who was holding her wrist. His expression was one of relief and amusement, but she could also see a tinge of worry in his eyes. She glanced down to where he gently held her wrist and observed the heavy bandaging that mirrored her other wrist. This boy must have nursed her back to health.

“You weren't supposed to save me,” she informed him, her voice barely above a whisper and raspy from lack of use. She used his (quite muscular) arm as support to sit up slowly. Scanning what she could now see was the Hut, she noticed that the boy had taken the liberty of moving her belongings to one space and filling the rest of the Hut with medical supplies. “You redecorated,” she commented.

“This building was in the perfect spot to make it a Med-hut,” her companion answered. Then he grinned, “I'm Alby, by the way.” Frankie nodded once, noticing he'd added to her makeshift calendar. He'd been there almost a week and a half, then.

“I'm—”

“Frankie. I know. You told me.”

The blonde girl looked at Alby in surprise, “I don't remember that.”

“You wouldn't,” Alby chuckled, “you were drifting in and out of consciousness for the first few hours after I found you. When I walked into the Hut and saw you, I thought you were dead, but you opened your eyes and giggled, ‘Hi, I'm Frankie. Welcome to the fucking Glade.’ Then you promptly blacked out again. That's when I started grabbing medical supplies from the Box to stop you from bleeding out.”

“I'm surprised you succeeded,” Frankie chuckled dryly.

“You'd only made the cuts thirty minutes or so before I found you, from what I could tell,” Alby reasoned, “so you were lucky, I guess.” Frankie looked down at her wrists, moving them in circles to test their mobility. They both stung like hell, but the right one could move fine, while the left one hurt too much to even twist slightly. She hissed in pain, rubbing the tender joint.

“You narrowly missed an artery on that one,” Alby told her.

“Wish I hadn’t,” she retorted, “then I wouldn’t still be in this Glade.”

“Hey, I’ve made this place a bit more liveable,” Alby teased. “I’ve built a makeshift Homestead and started a Garden.”

Frankie raised an eyebrow, “You did that in a week and a half while caring for me?”

The boy shrugged. “What can I say? I must have been good at architecture before this.”

Frankie laughed, “Maybe. I think I was just good at overthinking.” Alby nodded, reaching to undo Frankie’s bandages. She let him change them, trying not to grimace as she took in the gross, jagged cuts on both wrists. They were mottled with bruises and half-formed scabs on the shallow parts. The left wrist still had a large section of skin that was hanging open, blood trickling slowly from it. As Alby dabbed at the cuts, he frowned.

“The right side is healing nice,” he commented, rebandaging that wrist before turning to her left, “but this cut keeps reopening. I’m worried it will become infected.” Grabbing a bottle of alcohol, he warned Frankie, “This is going to hurt.” With that, he poured an ample amount of the liquid onto her wound. She let out a shriek.

“You could’ve counted to three, you heartless fucker!”

Frankie’s insults fell on unfazed ears as the receiver wrapped the throbbing cut, “You should be okay for the next couple days.”

Walking around the Glade was a bit of a challenge for Frankie, but with a heap of Alby’s cooking on her plate and his arm to lean on, she made it around the whole walled enclosure. Her legs were very wobbly, but she was glad to be out of bed and away from the reminders of her failed suicide attempt. Alby had warned her that she wasn’t going to let her out of his sight, because he wasn’t going to let her die. She just rolled her eyes.

“There’s no hope for us. We’re just some kind of exhibit in a godforsaken horror zoo. We’ll be better off dead.” But secretly, she was thinking that Alby, with his two room Homestead, half-built Kitchen, and small garden bed, might actually be able to give her hope. Neither teen had set foot in the Maze; it was too soon and Alby had been busy building the foundation for this little ‘civilization,’ as he was trying to convince Frankie to call it. But maybe they could survive here. At least until someone from their befores realized they were gone.

Over the next few weeks, Alby made good progress on the buildings, completing the Kitchen and outfitting the Homestead with furnishings. Alby and Frankie each had a room in its two room structure, and Frankie had moved her belongings from the Medhut to the Homestead. It was a meager pile of belongings, just some extra clothes, a journal and pen, feminine projects, and of all things, a disposable camera.

Alby had given it to her in exchange for promising to try and stay alive.

Frankie was still a less-than-decent gardener, but her wrists still weren’t healing right, so she couldn’t truly build. She could almost garden…as long as she was careful. So she did her best to take care of their food source, letting him handle the struggle of actually cooking. He wouldn’t let her near fire, just in case it might tempt her to harm herself. She appreciated the concern, but knew deep down that if she truly wanted to die, she’d find a much more efficient method than burning herself to death.

And the longer her cuts went without fully healing, the more worried she became that she was going to leave Alby alone here whether she liked it or not. She obviously couldn’t remember anyone besides the teenage boy, but she still got the feeling that he was a kinder person than most she’d known in her before, whatever that was. And the fact that he spent time nursing her back to health even though he had no obligation to? It was sweet. Very sweet. She didn’t want to abandon him to live in the Glade alone.

With Alby here to help her, the voice of depression in her head quieted.

The two teens decided that if the Box brought another teen up at the month-mark, it would be safe to assume that a new teenager would come every month. After all, the Glade seemed too vast for two inhabitants; like it was supposed to be filled with more people, and Alby and Frankie had agreed to ignore the implications of no teenagers in the Box. The implications of what that meant the Creators of this hellhole wanted them to do. They couldn’t decipher their exact ages, but it was clear that Alby was around seventeen, while Frankie was closer to fourteen.

At the very least, it was clear that Frankie was quite a bit younger than Alby.

To their relief, on the day that marked the month, the Box came up loaded with crates, barrels, and a scared, shaking teenage boy. He had dirty blond hair and bright, doe eyes, his arms and legs stick-thin as he huddled in a corner of the Box. He looked to be about Frankie’s age, and he looked terrified.

“I’m Frankie,” the teenage girl smiled, trying to look reassuring as she offered a hand to the boy. This was a mistake, though, because as she pulled him up, the fragilely repaired skin of her left wrist tore right back open, blood immediately gushing out of her arm and onto the boy’s startled face.

Her vision immediately blurring, Frankie leaned against the Box, the sudden blood loss going to her legs. She felt herself losing consciousness, arms flailing to find any support as she fell. In true Frankie manner, she swore as she tumbled down, but in her semi-conscious state, her speech slurred, and so the last word out of her mouth was, “Shuck!”

Then she passed out.

_______________________________

𝗡𝗘𝗪𝗧 𝗖𝗢𝗨𝗟𝗗 tell he was green.

He’d already thrown up once, yellow stomach acid mixed with blood, (though he couldn’t tell if it was Frankie’s or his own, because he was pretty sure he’d bitten his tongue). But looking at the cuts on Frankie’s wrists, half-healed and probably infected, he felt incredibly squeamish. Alby had explained the story to him—Frankie’s lonely first month in the Glade, her suicide attempt, Alby’s care as he tried to save her, and the life they’d built from there.

Newt thought that his new reality might be partially responsible for his nausea, too.

He’d washed the blood from his face and changed into the clothes sent up with him, Alby directing him to set up a cot in his room.

“We didn’t know if anyone else would be coming up, so I just built two rooms. I figure we can just squeeze in until they’re full and then build on once we run out of room,” the older boy had explained. Newt felt too numb to do anything but nod. Now he simply sat near Frankie, who was lying on a cot in the Medhut, barely conscious. She didn’t seem to have the energy to do anything but groan in pain as Alby set to work sewing her wound back up.

As he tied off the thread, a concerned look in his eyes, Alby patted the top of Frankie’s head, “I’m sure this is the last time I’ll have to sew one of these bad boys back up.”

“You mean, ‘I hope this is the last time,’” the girl grumbled.

Alby rolled his eyes, but Newt could see the note of worry in his eyes that confirmed Frankie’s statement. “Rest up, Frankie,” he ordered, motioning for Newt to leave the Medhut with him. “Take a day off tomorrow,” Alby added, to which Frankie replied,

“Fuck you! I’m working tomorrow!” The strain in her voice, however, said otherwise.

“Frankie,” Newt hummed, shaking the blonde’s shoulder lightly, “time for breakfast.” It had been four days since he came up in the Box, and the teen felt much more comfortable around Alby and Frankie. He’d realized quickly that despite their tough exteriors, both were as cuddly as teddy bears. Alby babied Frankie like she was his little sister, which was adorable to an extent, but after one too many days of bed rest, the teenage girl had asked Newt to take a turn caring for her.

Frankie had an obsession with creating nicknames for everything in the Glade, which she wrote in detailed lists in her journal (what else was she supposed to do?)

“We can call ourselves Gladers,” she had suggested, “and if we ever have someone who wants to solely work in the Med-hut, we should call them a Med-jack, because you go in jacked-up and hope you’ll come out less jacked up!” Newt and Alby had laughed but agreed. “And the last person to come out of the Box will for the first month be a Greenie, because they’re a newbie, which means they’re green.” Then with a smirk, she’d added, “And if they’re anything like Newt, they’ll be physically green, too.”

“You bled on me!” Newt had protested.

“You ripped my arm open!” the teenage girl shot back. “And it’s too late, Greenie, I’ve already decided.”

“I like it,” Alby had nodded, laughing when he saw Newt’s scowl.

“You’re both jerks,” the sandy-haired teen mumbled.

“And you’re a little shit, but I’m still being nice,” Frankie sing-songed.

“Hey, I didn’t cuss at you!” Newt had gasped, Frankie sticking her tongue out to say,

“So?”

“So you were rude!” the boy had insisted. “You should apologize!” Frankie had glanced at Alby, who was watching with a bemused expression. She mouthed ‘Help?’ but the dark-skinned boy had just shook his head.

With a groan and dramatic eye roll, Frankie had forced out, “I’m so sorry that I hurt your feelings. Do you want me to ask the Creators to send you some little boy pants? They might fit better.”

Alby had coughed, “That was a shit apology, Frankie. In fact, it was just another insult.” Then he’d sighed and admitted, “Newt has a point, as much as I hate to say it. Who knows how young W.C.K.D will deign to go? They might send up ten-year-olds. As hard as it is in a place like this, we should at least try to set a good example. We’ll come up with alternatives.”

Frankie had finally agreed after Newt reminded her of the hilarious ‘Shuck!’ she’d let out after covering him in blood, and they’d all agreed that it was a suitable alternative.

Newt smiled at the thought, returning to the present as Frankie stirred, awakened by his mention of food.

“Breakfast?” she mumbled, rubbing her eyes. The girl had been quite fatigued from losing so much blood during Newt’s arrival, and it was taking her quite some time to gain the energy back.

“Yup,” Newt encouraged, “and once I check your bandages, I’ll bring you some.” At this, Frankie’s eyes flew open.

“No!” Newt raised an eyebrow.

“No? What do you mean, no?”

Frankie scowled, “I want to eat with you and Alby.”

Newt chuckled. He loved her tenacity, and at first, it had made him slightly timid, but he’d adjusted quickly and picked up on the fact that it was her defense mechanism.

“I’m not sure that’s smart,” he began, not the least bit surprised when she interrupted.

“I don’t shucking care!”

With an eye roll that could envy one of Frankie’s, Newt told her, “Well, I do, because Alby and I care about your health.” He could see her trying to figure out her next argument, the gears turning in her head.

“I’d be doing the exact same thing there as I’m doing here; sitting!”

“And how would you get there?” Newt inquired. “It’s a hard walk for someone recovering from blood loss.”

Frankie huffed. “It’s only five minutes!”

“And that’s about four minutes too many for you,” Newt told her decisively. With a resigned sigh, the girl let Newt finish with her bandages. But as Newt disposed of the dirty rags, an idea lit up Frankie’s brain.

When he turned to face the blonde, Newt was surprised to hear, “You can carry me!”

“What?” Newt sputtered.

“You said I can’t walk all the way to the dining hall, so you should carry me there!” Frankie crowed with a big grin on her pale face.

“Fine,” the teenage boy said. He leaned down and easily swept her off the bed in a bridal carry. “Comfortable?” he inquired, walking towards the Kitchen.

“Yes,” Frankie smiled, her head resting organically on his shoulder. The teen boy hummed in response, sending vibrations through his chest into Frankie’s body. It was a comforting sensation, and coupled with the warmth of his body, Frankie realized that she felt oddly safe in his and Alby’s care.

For two teenage boys she’d known for a month at most, it was impressive. It was probably the whole saving-her-life thing. It earned them brownie points.

The next few days, Newt took the time to carry Frankie around. She wasn’t that heavy and she was great company. He definitely enjoyed gardening more when Frankie was there, even if she was constantly forgetting to drink enough water and take it easy. Newt got into the habit of forcing her to hydrate and take breaks, despite her constant grumbling that ‘she was perfectly healthy’ and ‘didn’t need much water.’

Newt, of course, had the upper hand in these debates, as he could always point to her still scabbed wrists and pale complexion. Eventually, as Frankie gained back enough strength to start walking to and fro as she pleased, these debates simply became an inside joke that the two had, often ending with insult battles.

Alby found it equal parts amusing and frustrating, just like the younger teens’ insistence that the small copse of trees be called the ‘Deadheads’ after Alby came out of them one day, swearing and grumbling, “One of the trees tried to kill me! It tried to take my head off!” The other teens just laughed at him, earning sharp glares from the older boy.

As the three teenagers settled into a rhythm, Alby grew accustomed to completing the day’s work with Newt and Frankie, and then retiring to the Homestead to relax while the other two went off to frolic and explore. He didn’t mind the alone time, and he was incredibly grateful that Newt and Frankie had bonded so well. Frankie still refused to view rescue as a viable possibility, but he could tell that to her, living here in the Glade forever was enough. Fostering these friendships with the boys who’d brought her back from the dead was enough for her.

Frankie may have gained her leg functionality back, but she’d gotten used to Newt ferrying her around, and so she’d jump on his back and ‘force’ him to give piggyback rides on their explorations. She knew he could easily insist she walk, and deduced that his willingness to carry her across the Glade indicated that he secretly enjoyed it as well. She always took her camera with her, snapping pictures of nature, Newt, and even the Walls, if the sunlight hit them in an interesting way. The collection of images grew, occupying the otherwise empty walls of the Homestead. Alby had to admit, it gave the Homestead a homey feel. It was comfortable here.

Frankie realized her rising feelings for Newt on one of their adventures. They were sitting by the pond, Frankie weaving grass together while Newt braided her hair.

“How’d you learn to do that?” she inquired.

Newt let out a hum. “I’ve no idea. Maybe I have a sister somewhere.” The girl smiled, checking the final product in the clear water. She let out a tiny gasp. It had been a long time since she’d felt pretty, but all of a sudden, she felt positively beautiful.

“I love it, Newt!” she squealed, throwing her arms around the boy. Her excitement caused the pair to topple over, Frankie landing on top of Newt. His hands immediately found her waist, as if to ensure she was okay. Her hands tangled in his air, and she was struck with the sudden urge to kiss the boy.

Their lips almost touched.

Frankie rolled off of Newt, clearing her throat as she mumbled, “It’s probably close to dinnertime.”

Then she quickly stood up, and before Newt could offer her a piggyback ride to the Kitchen, Frankie was half-running, half-stumbling away, all the while thinking, Shuck. I’m falling for Newt.

Newt walked behind her, forehead creased as he watched Frankie go flying back towards the center of the Glade, trying to ignore how his hands shook slightly, vibrating in time with the butterflies fluttering in his stomach. What was this weird feeling he got every time he twined his fingers through Frankie’s hair, or heard her laugh, or received a smile? Why did her presence make his skin all prickly while at the same time forming a warm glow around his heart? It seemed so silly to have such an odd reaction to the girl. He couldn’t even fathom why she could be affecting him so.

He wasn’t as confident in his emotions as Frankie was in hers.

“Alby, why does my heart speed up when I’m with Frankie?” the teen inquired one night, nervously dragging his thin fingers through the dirty blond fluff piled atop his head. It was grimy and matted, and his fingers got stuck, Newt wincing as he untangled his hair from his jagged fingernails.

Alby, who was sitting across from Newt by the firepit, looked surprised, but then chuckled. “Well, do you usually feel scared around her, or happy around her?”

Newt smiled. “Happy. But maybe a little nervous, too. She can be intimidating.” Alby nodded in agreement, a toothy, knowing grin adorning his handsome face. “So why do I feel that way?” Newt pressed, annoyed at Alby’s silent smirk.

“Oh, I think you know, Greenie,” Alby replied, letting out a small chuckle when Newt groaned.

“Alby! Give me a real answer!” The older boy just shook his head.

“You know the answer. Now figure out what your response is going to be.”

Before Newt could shoot a snappy comeback at Alby, Frankie waltzed over and plopped down next to him, chirping, “Hi, Greenie!” Newt rolled his eyes.

“You know my name, why’re you still calling me that?” Frankie grinned patronizingly,

“Oh, Newt, you’ll always be green in my heart.”

“You mean nauseous?” he grunted.

“Yup!”

Alby watched the exchange silently, watching the pair’s body language and banter as it suddenly dawned on him—Newt’s feelings were returned. These two were mutually attracted to each other—these two fourteen-year-olds in an awful, unexplainable prison, finding comfort in each other; feeling safe despite everything.

It was kind of beautiful.

Of course, the two were completely oblivious, both believing that their feelings were unrequited. Newt and Frankie simply continued to act like best friends, unable to see the flirting that was plain as day to Alby. That’s what he got for being older and wiser, he thought to himself.

But as much of the romantic tension that he did see, there was even more that he didn’t. Like all the nights that the two younger teens ended up in the same bed, for example.

It was just a normal night in the Glade, but Frankie’s mind didn’t care for peace. It liked to wreak havoc on its owner, especially while she slept (or more accurately, while she tried to). Frankie had been hopeful for a dreamless rest, but in the middle of the night, she started reliving that first lonely month. Except that in her dream, every time she woke up after slitting her wrists, she was back in the Box, starting the month over again.

Trapped here forever.

The teenage girl bolted awake, sitting up in bed as she regained her bearings. She was breathing heavily, forehead slick with sweat.

“It was just a nightmare,” she murmured, trying to convince her racing heart of this truth. She slowly eased herself back to a horizontal position again, but was out of bed wincing within seconds. She knew she wouldn’t be able to fall asleep again by herself.

She hated waking Newt, but ever since he’d forced Alby to move rooms (the older boy snored), Newt had told Frankie to bug him any time. So, taking a deep breath, she padded over to his door and knocked. After a few seconds of silence, she became too anxious to linger in the dark hallway and simply entered the boy’s room.

His room was surprisingly messy—she’d expected him to be an overall organized person—but she ignored this small detail, tiptoeing around the piles of clothes and other materials on the floor. As she neared his bed, Frankie gulped, noticing that Newt was shirtless. He lay sprawled across the mattress, just boxers on his frame. This made her even more anxious to wake him, but she just took a deep breath and lightly shook the blond’s shoulder.

“Hmm?” the boy mumbled, eyes fluttering open as he looked around the dark room, disoriented.

“Hi, Newt,” Frankie peeped, suddenly feeling overwhelmed by his deep, groggy voice and mussed hair.

“Frankie?” She could hear a hint of a smile in Newt’s voice as he rubbed his eyes. “What do you need, love?” he inquired, the pet name slipping out like it always did when he was tired. Frankie would never confess to it, but she secretly loved it.

“I had a nightmare,” she admitted, heart skipping a beat when Newt immediately frowned,

“I’m sorry, Frankie.”

“Oh no, it’s okay,” she assured him hurriedly. Newt opened his mouth to argue, but before he could, Frankie blurted, “Can I stay here?”

She felt blood rush to her cheeks immediately, but Newt just said, “Of course, love.” Frankie immediately climbed beneath the blanket he’d pulled back, right into his outstretched arms. She carefully rested her head on his chest, arms wrapping around his lean torso as she listened to the steady beat of his heart. His chest rose and fell with every soft breath he took, Frankie’s cheeks red as she took in the closeness of their bodies and the rhythm of Newt’s hand rubbing her arm.

“Are you comfortable?” the girl whispered, craning her neck to get a glimpse of Newt’s comforting face.

He chuckled, “Don’t worry about me, love. Just sleep.”

The raspy tiredness in his voice made it even more attractive than it already was, and all Frankie could do was mumble, “Okay.” Then she drifted off to sleep, undisturbed by nightmares now that her knight in shining armor was holding her.

When she woke up, Frankie panicked for a second, chest restricted by something on top of it. But upon opening her eyes, the girl chuckled, finding Newt laying on his stomach between her legs, head resting on her chest, arms around her waist. Obviously, he’d shifted during the night. Frankie certainly didn’t mind; this way, she could run her hands through his soft hair. She’d noticed that he’d started washing it more often recently. It was certainly nice that the head of hair resting on her chest smelled like shea butter, not dirt and B.O.

After a few minutes of lying peacefully while Frankie played with his hair, Newt began to stir. With a large yawn, he stretched, rolling onto his back, but staying between Frankie’s legs.

“Frankie?” he mumbled, obviously not awake enough to remember why she was in his bed.

“Hey, Greenie,” the girl smirked, running a hand through Newt’s hair again. He closed his eyes in enjoyment.

“That feels good.” Frankie laughed, helping the boy sit up.

“Oh, really, Newt?” Neither teen commented on Frankie’s nightmare from the night before. Frankie felt better—Newt’s presence was enough—and Newt knew Frankie well enough that he could tell she wanted to move on. And that’s how it was the next time it happened, and the next. Newt never pressed her to talk about her dreams, and Frankie never pressed him to talk about the nightmares she knew he had, too.

The body heat of another was enough comfort for them both.

It should have been obvious to Frankie and Newt that their feelings were shared, but the two lovesick fourteen-year-olds remained blissfully unaware even after these late night cuddle sessions. It made Alby wish he had longer hair just so he could pull it out. Eventually, fed up with Newt’s insistence at denying his feelings, Alby hatched a plan.

Yes, he was desperate enough to play matchmaker.

Alby wasn’t great at whittling, but he was determined enough to create a decent, simple flute-like instrument. Coupled with a small bonfire, the stilted little flute’s music was all Alby needed to convince Frankie and Newt to dance together, the pair laughing as they twirled around, hand in hand.

“You stepped on my foot!” Frankie yelped as the two pretended to waltz, circling the fire.

“Sorry,” Newt winced, drawing the blonde girl slightly closer to his tall frame. Alby watched from a few feet away, a smile on his face as Newt and Frankie settled into a slow-dancing position, swaying gently from side to side with Newt’s arms around Frankie’s waist and her arms around his neck. Alby changed his flute’s melody to match the mood, watching the scene intently as a reality tv show host. Being as unassuming as possible, he waited for something—anything—to happen.

“Frankie, love?” Newt whispered, the girl looking up at him expectantly. “You look gorgeous in the firelight.” Frankie blushed so red that Newt could see it even at this time of night.

“Don’t be silly, Newt,” she argued. “I’m covered in sweat and grime, and I don’t own a shucking hairbrush. That cannot possibly translate to gorgeous.”

“Yes, it can,” Newt insisted, tucking a few strands of her hair behind her ear. “Trust me, love; you are gorgeous.” Frankie’s eyes fluttered closed as the boy’s hand cupped her cheek, thumb stroking her soft skin.

“Thank you,” she whispered in response, Newt just humming as Alby watched the pair, practically spontaneously combusting. “Newt—” Frankie was interrupted by the loud shriek of a Griever, causing her to jump from surprise.

Newt chuckled, “We should all go to bed, shouldn’t we?” Alby wanted to protest at first, but then saw a golden opportunity.

“Yeah, I’ll take care of the fire. Newt, walk with Frankie back to the Homestead, yeah?” The younger boy quickly agreed, Frankie knowing better than to protest, as it wasn’t a judgment of her own abilities, but just Alby’s overprotective nature manifesting in an overbearing approach.

“What were you going to say before?” Newt inquired, the girl looking at him in confusion. “Before the Griever so rudely interrupted you,” he clarified, eyebrows raising slightly at the blush that flooded Frankie's face.

“Oh, that—I was just going to ask if…” she trailed off for a second, but quickly regained her resolve, “I was going to ask if you'd stay again tonight. My nightmares have been bad.” Newt’s eyes lit up immediately as he threw an arm around Frankie's shoulders.

“Of course, love.” As the two reached Frankie's room, they both went for the knob, hands colliding in a burst of sparks that caused the two teenagers to exchange sheepish looks. “Sorry,” the British boy mumbled before following Frankie into her room.

A mostly comfortable silence filled the room as the teens quickly changed into their night clothes, sleepovers a routine enough occurrence that half of Newt's clothes were in Frankie's small dresser.

Neither Newt nor Frankie could deny the slight tension in the air, however, when Newt turned around a tad too soon and caught a glimpse of Frankie's bare breast as she pulled her night shirt on, the tension became almost unbearable. He attempted to act as if it hadn't happened, but judging from the blush on her cheeks, Frankie was just as aware as he was of what he'd seen.

They came to an unspoken agreement to ignore it, clambering under Frankie's blanket together as Newt fit his body easily into the outline of the girl's, spooning her. They laid there quietly, breaths filling the room as Frankie felt Newt's exhales tickling the back of her neck. His arms were wrapped almost lazily around her waist, as if they were just supposed to be there. Frankie's eyes fluttered closed at the sensations, hyper aware of Newt's firm chest against her shoulder blades.

Shifting slightly, Frankie unintentionally rolled her hips as she adjusted her legs’ positioning, the girl's breath hitching when the small of her back brushed against Newt's pelvis.

She remembered very suddenly that he was a teenage boy.

“Newt,” she whispered, rolling over in one fluid motion so they were face to face, “gosh, Newt.” Her gaze was soft, very un-Frankie-like, her bottom lip getting caught between her teeth as she gently cupped his cheek in her hand. Stroking his cheekbone with her thumb, she wondered when she'd become so bold.

The teenage girl felt soft hands trail from her ribs to the small of her back, Newt guiding her even closer to himself so their hips were flush against each other. Frankie felt as though her entire body was blushing in one red, burning shade, her eyes squeezing shut of their own accord when Newt's hands drifted lower, resting on the girl's ass before squeezing tightly, Frankie whimpering as her hands found a new spot—tangled in the boy's hair.

“Will you kiss me, Newt?” she asked in a whisper, the boy nodding before using a hand to lift her chin. His lips closed in on hers, Frankie waiting in anticipation, but Newt didn't kiss her full on the mouth. Instead, he planted a kiss on the corner of the girl's mouth, a dissatisfied groan leaving her vocal cords.

“Newt,” she whined, a low chuckle leaving his throat before he pressed a kiss to the other corner of her mouth, followed by a soft pattern of pecks that trailed along her jaw. Finally, sensing her patience waning, his hands found their way back up to her face, pressing his lips to hers with a passion Frankie hadn't expected him to have. She eagerly answered the requests of his soft lips, letting him have access to her mouth as she closed her eyes in contentment, completely happy to let him have dominance. His tongue flicking against her own, Newt's eyes held a deep desire that Frankie was sure was mirrored in her own.

“Gosh, you're so beautiful,” the British boy murmured, leaving Frankie breathless with no words as he continued to brush his lips against hers. Then he moved to her eyelids, placing soft kisses on them as he slowly ground his hips against her own, like he didn't fully believe this was real and had to make sure Frankie was truly there. Being loved on by him. With one last peck to her nose, he pulled back and just stared at her face softly, admiring the teenage girl's ethereal beauty.

“Newt—” she mumbled through swollen lips. “What are we?”

The spell broke.

All of a sudden, Newt was rolling off of Frankie and clambering out of her bed, grasping at the dark, messy floor to find his day clothes as Frankie sat up, stunned.

“Newt—Newt?” she asked anxiously. “Newt, what are you doing?” The British boy froze momentarily, eyes locking with the blonde's, but just as quickly, he unfroze and started towards the door.

“I'm sorry, Frankie. I'm really sorry,” he muttered. “I'm so bloody sorry. I just can't.” He looked at her with a pained expression, “I can't do this.” He stumbled over his words for a second before spitting out, “I don't want this.” Then he scrambled to leave, Frankie frozen in bed, stunned.

How had it all gone downhill so fast? How had it all fallen apart so quickly that she couldn't catch it; couldn't stop the snowball?

After a few seconds of denial, Frankie, though still unable to process what had just happened, found a tear rolling down her cheek. Then another, and another, until a rainstorm was charting paths down her face to fill a sea in the bed sheets below. Frankie found herself growing angry and heartbroken all at once, unable to reason out whether Newt had meant he didn't want her or didn't want a relationship. She wanted to scream, yell, curse his stupid name and wake Alby, too, but all she had the strength to do was let out one gasping, quiet whisper.

“Fuck you, Newton.”

The next day, neither teen would tell Alby what had happened, but he had enough sense to figure out that something had gone down, and from the cold, formal way Newt and Frankie were greeting each other, it didn't take the older teenager long to deduce a basic summary of the previous night's events. Alby tried in vain to bridge the chasm that lay between Newt and Frankie now, reasoning that they were stronger together, but nothing he tried could fix the damage Newt had done to Frankie's trust.

Alby became resigned to a fate of mediating between two icy parties, but what he wasn't willing to accept was Frankie drawing back into herself again. He watched her close herself off from both boys, noticing how she dug her nails into the scars on her wrists when Newt passed, and he remembered what he'd promised her when she woke up from her attempt—he wasn't going to let her die. Not by outside causes, and not because of her own mind.

Alby knew deep down that to help Frankie, he needed to first get her out of this hellhole, and that's why he first turned to the Maze.

There was no way he'd let Frankie out of the Glade into such an unknown, likely hostile environment, so the leader of the trio recruited Newt, who'd wanted to explore the Maze all along. Frankie, of course, opposed the idea with everything in her, wanting the well-being of both boys despite Newt's earlier defenses. She still treasured them both, and so the thought of them risking their lives in the Maze scared the girl.

But they were persistent, and Frankie held no real power over them. She just wished that they'd be content in the Glade. That they'd squash this desire to explore the Maze.

The morning Alby and Newt departed the Glade to run the Maze, Frankie ignored the sun's cues and instead simply glared frostily at the boys, as if to give them one last chance to back out. But of course, they didn't. Instead, they disappeared into the Maze, ignorant of the fact that they would never see Frankie again.

At least, never alive again.

_______________________________

𝗔𝗟𝗕𝗬 𝗛𝗔𝗗 remained relatively calm during the whole story; emotionless, even, but at this last statement, his head fell into his hands, a strangled sob coming from his mouth.

“Alby—” Thomas said uncertainly, but he was interrupted as Alby's head snapped back up, an anguished, feral look in his eyes.

“She fucking killed herself, Thomas! She slit her fucking wrists, right on the scars, so fucking perfectly that it must've been so meticulously intentional.” The leader of the Glade let out another angry cry before continuing, “She collected every single photo, poem, drawing, memento…everything that had any connection to her at all…and burned it. All of it. So we'd have nothing left of her. And then she wrote a fucking note that said, ‘You shouldn't have left.’ Set it next to her. Went to the Med-hut, right where she did it the first time, and ended it. When we got back and found her, she'd already been gone for at least a few hours.”

“I'm so sorry,” Thomas whispered, voice cracking, surprised to find a few tears in his eyes for this girl he'd never met; this girl whose brain had worked against her from the very start. Alby looked at Thomas with the expression of someone so in pain they could barely breathe.

“She died alone, Greenie. She fucking died alone.” Alby shook his head, “She shouldn't have had to die alone. Everything about it was awful.” The dark-skinned boy caught Thomas's eye again, answering his unspoken question. “Newt's photo only survived her purge because it wasn't in the Glade. It was in his pocket. He was in love with her, but he was too scared to admit it. At least, until it was too late. Fucking screamed it when we found her, as if a love confession could raise her from the dead.”

Alby laughed, but it was devoid of humor. “Creators started sending up antidepressants for Newt after that. Didn't make him take ’em at first, but…well, something happened that made them necessary.”

Thomas didn't know how to process all of the emotions rolling off Alby's body, especially paired with the deja vu the whole story brought with it. So he just sat there, not moving for a few minutes before Alby stood abruptly.

“Time to get to work, Greenie. Why don't you do your job trial with the Builders today instead of the Track-hoes?” The brunet agreed numbly, staggering out of Alby's office as the tales of Frankie ran through his mind. The image of that blonde in the photograph cycled through his head over and over, her smile getting stuck in his thoughts. She looked so happy in the photograph, and it made Thomas wonder if that joy was real. If that photo was taken in a happy time.

“So did you learn your lesson about being nosy, Greenie?” A gruff voice interrupted Thomas's thoughts.

He looked up to find Gally towering over him and mumbled, “Probably not. But I did learn to be more careful about being nosy.” Gally just stared at the boy for a second before sighing.

“Good enough. Come with me and we'll start your job trial. Not that it matters, I wouldn't take you. But that's inconsequential.”

Thomas trudged behind the Builder, barely even processing his words before asking, “Is there a grave for Frankie?” Gally looked at the other boy sharply, causing him to turn red, but the taller boy finally replied,

“Yeah. First one in the Deadheads.”

“Thanks,” Thomas said quickly, glancing over at the clump of trees that housed the graveyard.

“No, you can't go see it right now,” Gally added, Thomas scowling,

“I wasn't going to ask!”

“Sure,” Gally snorted. As the two boys reached the Builders' latest project, a repair site for a Slicer hut, Gally turned to Thomas and said, “Look, I get it. You're curious. But getting fixated on Frankie will help no one. I came up after Newt, just a few days after Frankie died, and spent the month trying to mediate between Alby and Newt, who were both trying to handle the guilt by blaming each other. It was the most miserable month of my life, and once they became civil again, it was still a nightmare to be reminded of her. Once I got them to talk again, I chose to just move past it and not think of it. And that's what you need to do. We didn't know her, so it's not our business. Got it?”

Thomas was taken aback by the harshness of Gally's words, unable to tell if the tall boy felt angry or sad about his forced role as peacemaker. The 6’3” Keeper of the Builders definitely didn't seem like the peacemaking type. But then again, Thomas was learning not to judge a book by its cover.

After all he'd thought Newt was a ray of sunshine.

That evening, as Thomas knelt silently at Frankie's grave and placed a makeshift bouquet at the wooden plaque, he wondered why the Creators had sent a girl with depression up to the Glade.

Unfortunately, no one would ever know. The only answer anyone had ever received was, “WCKD is good.”

the end

#fanfiction #one shot #angst #angst with a sad ending #the maze runner #tmr #Thomas #thomas tmr #newt tmr #tmr newt #tmr thomas #tmr alby #alby tmr #newt x oc #tmr angst #newt angst #newt and gally are best buds #gally defends newt any chance he gets #both newt and oc are clueless #both newt and oc are accidentally jerks #alby is an unreliable narrator #thomas needs to stop thomasing

[gladerscake]

Something More

(Gally x Reader)

Hi, I’m in my feels again, and I’m taking you with me. A bit of angst, but mostly fluff, because I’m a sucker for it. Enjoy the ride!

You still couldn’t believe that Gally was back. After everything you had seen and gone through in the last few months, you didn’t think there were many things left that could shock you, but his return did just that. Seeing his face again and hearing his deep voice had shaken you to your very core, and while Thomas’ first instinct was to punch him, you didn’t have the faintest clue what to do.

You knew what you wished you’d have done the second you saw him. You wished you’d have hugged him, as tightly as you could, told him how much you had missed him and how happy you were to see him alive and relatively unharmed. But all that your body had found the capacity to do was freeze, and you wanted to smack yourself for it.

Before you knew it, after a short negotiation with Lawrence, Gally had ushered you, Thomas, and Newt to follow him down a pothole, commencing your venture into the city. Unlike Thomas, who had taken the idea of having to follow Gally’s lead with a notable reluctance, you had no problem with it. In your heart you knew that you could trust him. Gally had done this before, he knew his way around and he wouldn’t let anything happen to you, so long as he had anything to say about it.

“Urgh… This is great!” You heard Thomas complain behind you after jumping down into the sewer, Newt following.

You merely rolled your eyes at that, too focused on what lay ahead. You watched, intently, as Gally flipped a power switch, the dark tunnel promptly illuminating and inviting the four of you to proceed.

While Thomas and Newt walked a few feet behind, you did your best to keep up with Gally. You hadn’t expected your urge to stay close to him to be so prominent, but it was, and you couldn’t bring yourself to ignore it.

There were so many things you wanted to know, probably more questions than Gally could answer, and you hoped you would soon have the chance and the time to ask all of them. You could only imagine how hard it must’ve been for him to survive and get this far without any of his friends left by his side, separated from everyone he’s ever cared about and everyone who’s ever cared about him.

You’ve always cared about him. Back in the Glade, you would say he was one of the people you cared about the most. You and Gally were close, profoundly close, to the point where anyone with working eyes would have assumed that either you both had feelings for one another, or at least one of you did.

You couldn’t speak for Gally, but you always sensed the budding possibility of your friendship growing into something more. The tough builder made you feel things no one else could. Your heart never skipped with the same trepidation for anyone else as it did for him. However, you were never quite brave enough to take the risk and do something about it, see where it may lead you. You always thought you had plenty of time for that, and eventually you would find the right moment, the right words, the right everything. Of course, back then you had no idea how drastically your lives would change after Thomas’ arrival, and how quickly your time would run out.

For months, after you thought you’d lost Gally, you cursed yourself for leaving him, for not being able to save him, for letting him die without ever knowing how much he really meant to you. But now, miraculously, he was back, and maybe… maybe that was a sign to try again. Perhaps you still had a shot at happiness after all.

“Gally…” You started, softly, as you walked beside him. Your voice did a quick job of grabbing his attention.

“How did you survive…? I know you said they ‘patched you up’, but how? You had a…” you paused, momentarily trailing off and averting your eyes to the water sloshing at your feet.

A spear. He had a spear put through his chest. For some reason you found yourself unable to say it out loud, but thankfully, you didn’t have to. Gally knew what you meant.

A short huff fell from the former Keeper of the Builders, his gaze fluctuating between you and the end of the tunnel up ahead.

“Honestly, I’m still not sure. I wasn’t exactly awake to see it. All I know is, they removed the spear, somehow stopped me from bleeding out, then monitored me for a while, and then…” He shrugged “Eventually I healed up. Quicker than they’d expected, too.”

You bit the inside of your lip, once again imagining how rattling it must’ve been to wake up in an unfamiliar place, surrounded by strangers, with no idea where any of his friends were or how he’s even alive.

“Why did Lawrence decide to take you in?” You inquired, carefully watching his expression.

Gally glanced at you again “I guess he thought I looked strong enough to be of help. They need all the fighters they can get, especially the ones that can’t get infected.”

“Are you the only immune here?”

“Well, I don’t know about every single person at the base, but… I might be.”

That worried you for a moment. Was there a possibility that Lawrence might have wanted Gally for something other than his physical strength and combat power? You were almost afraid to ask, but you did anyway.

“The serum in Lawrence’s IV… That wasn’t… That wasn’t harvested from you, was it?”

Gally let out something between a scoff and a chuckle. Admittedly, he was touched by the note of concern in your voice.

“No. If they knew how to harvest, I definitely wouldn’t be talking to you right now.”

You subtly exhaled in relief “Okay… So where did he get it, then?”

At that, Gally shook his head, his lips curving with half a smile. Though small, it was the first one you’ve seen from him in what felt like forever.

“You think we’re close enough for him to tell me that stuff?”

You breathed a quiet laugh. Right. That was a silly question. Why would he tell Gally where he had gotten it from? If Lawrence did have a source or a stash somewhere, naturally he’d want as few people to know about it as possible.

“Fair enough.”

For a moment you two walked in silence as your gaze kept darting to his face. You were still taking in the fact that he was actually beside you again. Your heart clenched at the thought of what must be going through his mind. He probably thought you hated him after what had happened, blamed him for it, just like Thomas did.

You wanted him to know that wasn’t true. You knew full-well whose fault the whole thing really was, and it definitely wasn’t Gally’s.

“I really am happy to see you again…” You spoke, softly, but loud enough for him to hear the sincerity in your tone.

Gally immediately looked at you, as if surprised to hear it, and though he tried to maintain a neutral expression, you could easily spot the flash of disbelief in his eyes.

Inadvertently, he felt his pulse quickening, a warm feeling spreading somewhere deep within his taut chest. A part of him insisted that he didn’t deserve your forgiveness or your good graces after what he’d done, but hearing you say that brought a rush of relief and hope through his entirety.

Gally’s gaze softened, a small, unsure, and timid smile touching the corners of his mouth.

“Thanks… That makes one of you.”

Your brows furrowed as you quickly shook your head. The idea of Gally thinking that his friends, the only family he’s ever known, would’ve preferred him staying ‘dead’, did not sit right with you at all.

“No, I don’t think that’s true. They’re not great at showing it, but… Fry is glad to have you back too, I can tell. And Newt as well.”

Gally stifled a somber huff. He really didn’t know if he could believe that, but he appreciated you trying.

Finally, you reached the end of the tunnel as Gally stopped and shined a flashlight into a dark hole that you were evidently going to have to crawl through. Thomas and Newt had stopped as well, waiting with palpable uneasiness for whatever the next part was going to be.

“Wait here.” Gally instructed before walking forward and disappearing into the darkness. You figured he needed to check something before you could go ahead. With no idea what the plan actually was, you couldn’t help but feel a tad nervous. Nonetheless, you urged yourself to stay optimistic.

You believed in Gally. He knew how to get you where you needed to be, and he would make sure you all got there safely. You could count on him. And so you would.

~~~~~

Your trip, though deeply frightening at certain moments, had been an overall success. Gally had shown you the fortress that was Wicked’s headquarters, as well as the ‘way in’ he had mentioned prior. He wasn’t kidding when he said you weren’t going to like it. Thomas certainly didn’t…

“No. There has to be another way!” Your dark-haired friend paced, anxiously, around the small room you all were in. The thought of having to encounter Teresa again after what she had done sent his mind spiralling, and you could hardly blame him.

You didn’t know how you were going to face her without instantly punching her lights out. You were sure someone would have to hold you back. Her betrayal left you more furious than you had ever been in your life, her motives remaining out of your realm of comprehension. But seeing as she was the only way in, the only chance you had at getting Minho back, you knew you didn’t have much of a choice.

Gally sighed, his frustration bordering on annoyance “Like what? You’ve seen the building, she is our only way in!”

“You really think she’s gonna help us?” Thomas practically scowled.

“I don’t plan on asking for her permission!” Gally countered, his retort bringing a barely-noticeable smirk to the edge of your mouth.

“Am I missing something here?” Brenda chimed in “This is the same girl that betrayed us, correct? Same dick?”

“I like her.” Gally muttered, curtly nodding over to her.

And just like that, your little smirk was wiped off. Your heart dropped, your fingertips beginning to turn cold. Oh, please, no… You hadn’t been prepared for how much something so seemingly insignificant could sting. An unforeseen jealousy encompassed your heart in a menacing grip as your jaw clenched in your attempts to shake it off.

You didn’t get to stew in it for long though, as Newt’s sudden angry outburst left everyone in the room speechless.

You couldn’t believe what you had just witnessed. Newt was the calm and level-headed one, it wasn’t like him at all to snap that way. Even he looked startled at himself as he mumbled an apology and briskly walked out, Thomas following closely behind.

For the next few minutes the five of you that were left in the room discussed the details of the plan further.

During those few minutes, you didn’t look at Gally once.

~~~~~

“Hey… You feeling better?” You gently asked Newt, slowly approaching him on the rooftop.

After Thomas had returned to the room without him, you decided to go on and check on your friend yourself.

Newt looked over to you, offering you one of his usual tranquil smiles as you sat down next to him “I am, actually. Sorry about that, something just… came over me.”

You nodded in understanding. You were all on edge, with everything that had been going on. Hell, after Gally’s casual remark regarding Brenda, you, quite frankly, felt like yelling at somebody too.

Were you overreacting? Probably, but you couldn’t help yourself. Your common sense kept telling you it was a stupid thing to be upset about, but your heart couldn’t agree.

Newt had apparently noticed the tension pervading your form, and he didn’t take long to decipher the source of it.

He knew all about your true feelings for Gally, had for a long time, since the glade. He had seen how distraught you were when you thought he was gone forever, he had been your shoulder to cry on for the months that followed. And with Gally now back in your lives, he could only imagine the array emotions that had to be swarming you.

“Have you gotten a chance to talk to him yet?”

Newt inquired, cautiously, scanning your expression.

You didn’t bother playing dumb as you cast your gaze downward, a solemn smile etching your lips “Not really.”

“Well, why not? Are you afraid?”

If you hadn’t been afraid enough before, now you definitely were. It felt like whatever small, simmering spark of confidence you felt about Gally reciprocating your feelings had grown even smaller in the past half hour.

“Yeah.” You scoffed, bitterly, not seeing the point in hiding or denying it. “Yeah, I am.”

Newt frowned, placing a comforting hand on your rigid shoulder “Of what? Y/N, you’re the only girl for him, always have been. Maybe you don’t see the way he looks at you, but I do. And I’m pretty sure so does everybody else.”

You looked far ahead, grimacing as the pinch at your heart intensified.

“Maybe I’m not the only girl anymore...”

Newt’s face painted with utter confusion, forehead scrunching “What are you on about?”

Your lips formed a pout as your eyes finally landed on your friend “You heard what he said.”

Newt stared at you, dumbfounded, every gear in his head turning with effort to work out what you were talking about. After another moment, it finally clicked, causing his features to twist in further bewilderment.

“Wha-You mean back there?”

You nodded, feebly, as Newt almost snorted.

“You can’t be serious. Y/N, I guarantee you, that didn’t mean anything. He’s most likely already forgotten he even said it.”

You mumbled something incorrigible under your breath in response, causing Newt to roll his eyes. He gave your shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

“Come on, you’ve already lost so much time. Are you really going to waste more of it being ridiculous?”

In your heart, you knew Newt was right. Wasting time was a luxury you couldn’t afford. Not just because you had already lost so much, but because you didn’t know how much of it you even had left. As much as you hated to allow that thought into your mind, there was no guarantee that your time wouldn’t be cut short again. Both of you might make it out of this mess. Or only one of you. Or neither.

You drew in a deep breath “Okay… Okay, I’ll-“

“Hey…”

The deep voice from behind you interrupted, making Newt and you turn to the sound.

Of course it was none other than Gally, who had apparently decided to see for himself if Newt was doing any better.

“Everything alright here?” He inquired, taking a step towards you, his intense gaze traveling between you and Newt.

Newt nodded, delivering you a conspicuously knowing look as he pulled himself up to his feet.

“Yeah, much better. I was just about to head back inside, actually.” Seeing this as the perfect chance to give you and Gally a moment alone, he glanced at you one last time, his dark eyes sending encouragement, before he departed.

Your heart began to pump faster as Gally approached you, slowly, steadily, almost as if he thought one sudden movement from him would make you get up and leave.

You wondered why he was still so cautious, even after you had so transparently let him know that there wasn’t the smallest bit of resentment on your part.

Finally, Gally lowered himself down to sit beside you, looking out into the same distance your eyes were fixed upon.

Your muscles once again started to feel tense, an invisible weight pressing down on your chest and shoulders. Your lips tightly pressed together, you averted your eyes to your hands, all the words you thought you had prepared dissolving from your mind.

Gally must’ve taken it as you being nervous about the mission as he looked over to you with vehement reassurance.

“Don’t worry… We’ll get Minho back. We’ll do whatever it takes.”

You didn’t miss the way his large hand jerked upwards a bit and immediately lowered back down as if changing its mind.

He wanted to touch you, but he didn’t know if he was allowed to. Though your statement from a few hours ago had gifted him with a blink of hope, he didn’t want to risk pushing his luck.

You met his gaze, mustering a soft smile and helping him out a bit by subtly shifting closer, your shoulder nearly brushing against his own.

“Of course we will. We have to. And… Thank you for being such a big help.” Your smile grew as Gally let out a short huff, attempting a smile in return.

“Sure. I mean, it’s the least I can do. After...” He suddenly went quiet, unable to finish his thought, his eyes promptly leaving yours.

Your smile dispersed as you watched a somber shadow of guilt fall over his face.

A ringing silence loomed over the two of you.

That was the subject neither of you wanted to bring up, but there was no escaping or ignoring it. It wouldn’t just go away on its own. You needed to talk it out.

Finally, with a heavy sigh, Gally took it upon himself to be the first one to speak.

“I know I did everything wrong. A lot could’ve been avoided if I had just…” He frowned, gravely, as he recalled everything that had transpired.

Your comforting hand placed itself on his strong shoulder on its own accord, before you could even think about it.

Gally shook his head “But I can’t fix that now. All I can do is try to do better this time around, and maybe one day I’ll make it up to you... To all of you.”

Your eyes brimming with sympathy, you gently squeezed his shoulder, making him look at you.

“You’re already doing that. We wouldn’t have even made it through those walls without you, Gally. And if by some miracle we had, we probably would’ve got caught, immediately.”

Gally released a wistful breath, glancing down at your hand on his shoulder. He couldn’t wrap his head around the compassion you were showing him. Then again, it had always been one of your prevalent qualities, one of the many things about you that continuously pulled him in.

A small but genuine smile curled your lips as you gazed at him, his closeness speeding up your heart rate. There it was again, that growing warmth you had always felt around him. That rush of tingles throughout your body that no one else ever brought you.

The words you thought you’d have trouble getting out suddenly trailed from your mouth with surprising ease.

“I’ve missed you, you know… I thought about you a lot.”

Gally’s brows propped up in surprised anticipation, his face beginning to heat up as you continued.

“I remember we were all sitting on this cliff… It was after we had found what was left of the Right Arm in the mountains. The sun was just setting, and it all felt so peaceful…” You paused, scoffing at the memory of how that ended “It didn’t last, of course, since Wicked stormed the place right after, but for a few minutes we actually thought we were safe. And for those few minutes, all I could think about was… how much I wanted you to be there.”

Your breath hitched as you felt Gally’s rough fingers brushing against your own. You looked down as they tentatively skimmed your palm before slowly interlocking with yours.

A timid but affectionate smile bloomed upon your lips as you softly tightened your grip on his hand.

Gally looked at you with an emotion you had never seen before, something deep and powerful that would’ve undoubtedly made your knees buckle if you had been standing.

Following an instinct, you leaned your head on his burly shoulder, hearing Gally release a shallow breath by your temple.

You stayed just like that for the next few moments, neither one of you wanting it to end. You knew you would inevitably have to get up soon and get back to the others, but if you could just be like this for a little bit longer…

Gally sighed, pulling back just enough to make you look up at him as he tenderly squeezed your smaller hand in protection and security.

“Hey, it will be over soon. Okay? We’ll save Minho, Wicked will get what’s coming to them, and then we’ll all be out of here.” Gally spoke with such clarity, such grounded confidence, it was impossible not to take his words to heart. Especially paired with the way his captivating bluish-green gaze pierced into yours.

“We’re gonna make it.”

You smiled in response, tipping your head up until the two of you were close enough to exchange the same breath.

“And then we can do whatever we want..?”

Gally swallowed, your soft, slightly parted lips begging for him to do what he had dreamed of doing since the glade.

But no… He couldn’t. Not just yet.

He nodded, gently leaning his forehead against yours, the promise of a kiss ghosting over your lips.

“Yeah… Whatever we want.”

Tags: @spider-lonesome @obsessivelycapricious @ultraintrovertedgryffindor @maraudersimp @abundantxadorations @izzymultifan @magnoliabloomfield @willseyebrows @annoyinglythoughtfuldestiny @anniemylennox @gallysonegoodlung @joemomma2121 @lattsgocaps @sherbertscarrothead-2 @lullabaesstuff @crazysheeplyca

#the maze runner #tmr gally #gally x reader #gally imagine #tmr #gally x fem!reader #gally tmr #gally x y/n #gally x you #tmr imagine #gally fanfic #will poulter #tmr gally imagine #gally

[blueeyedheizer]

running out of time - newt

A/N: Sorry this took so long. I actually started this fic back in 2018 when the movie came out but I never got around to finish it lol. But here it is, finally :)

•••

''Come on, Newt.'' you cried out as you struggled to carry your best friend's body on top of the burning building. Your limbs were shaking, and you kept stumbling on your own feet as you tried to keep him up.

Newt was loosing himself to the virus and it was getting harder for him to stay conscious. You could feel him try to push you away but you tightened your grip on him as much as you could, knowing that every second was precious. You had to save him, like he had saved you multiple times before. You had to keep going and make him live the life he deserved to live.

''Just leave me here Y/N. Leave me.'' he said in a harsh whisper before collapsing onto the ground, making you almost fall on top of him. You carefully sat him against the closest wall.

''Newt.'' you said, but he didn't seem to hear you as his eyes darted around, looking everywhere except at your face.

His breathing was heavy and his veins were almost completely black. Tears were blurring your vision and your heart was beating fast as you tried to swallow the lump that was stuck inside your throat. ''Newt !'' you repeated, your voice cracking, finally capturing his attention and making him look at you. ''I'm not leaving you Newt. You hear me?'' you said as you shook his shoulders, trying to keep him attached to reality. ''We're going to make it. Both of us. We'll get the bloody hell out of here, together.'' you never broke eye contact with him while you spoke.''I'm not leaving you.''

''Y/N...'' Newt gasped, ''Please take this.'' he said as he reached to his pocket, taking off something that looked like a necklace.

''What- ? No Newt, later, we gotta move !''

''Take it...''

''Newt come on !''

''JUST TAKE IT !'' he suddenly screamed, making you back away from him. His eyes widened and the expression on his face softened when he realised what he had done.

''T-take it and go. Far away from m-me. Please...save yourself, Y/N.'' With his shaky hand, he handed you the necklace which you slowly took. You brought your hand up and placed it fondly on his damaged cheek, stroking it gently. You shook your head slowly as a single tear began to fall. ''I can't...''

“Save yourself, Y/N.” he begged, his words filled with desperation. You burst into full-on tears and began sobbing heavily ''I can't! I won't!''

''Then kill me! Kill me before I kill you!''

''Newt—"

''KILL ME! Kill me before I become one of them! Kill me! Do it! Just throw me off this bloody building!''

And then Newt’s eyes cleared, as if he’d gained one last trembling gasp of sanity, and his voice softened.

''Please, Y/N....Please.'' You could feel your heart cracking in your chest. You were unable to move. Seeing Newt like this killed you inside, but you couldn't kill him. How could you possibly kill your best friend ?

Suddenly, Newt moved and quickly reached for your gun, slipping his hand around the weapon before yanking it towards himself, pressing it against his temple with tears streaming down his cheeks.

''NO!'' you screamed, throwing the gun away. ''Newt please give me a chance! There's still time!"

''I TRUSTED YOU! I TRUSTED YOU Y/N! NOW KILL ME!'' Helpless, you tackled him to the ground and tried to hold him still. Newt grabbed your arm tightly as he tried to wiggle out of your hold. At this point, you didn't care about your safety anymore. Newt could kill you at any moment, but you just didn't care. You had failed him.

You were about to give up and let your body collapse to the ground when you heard footsteps coming your way. A wave of relief washed over your tensed body when you saw Thomas and Teresa running towards you.

"Thomas, help me !" you pleaded, allowing more tears to fall.

''Newt. Hey buddy, It's me. Come on, stay with me." Thomas quickly injected the serum into his best friend's veins. He didn't know exactly where it had to be injected, but he had to get it in fast. Both you and Teresa were holding Newt's body to stop him from moving, since he was now almost completely changing and screaming in pain.

After several seconds, Newt stilled completely and you could've sworn your heart had stopped beating for a short instant.

"T-Thomas...what's happening?'' you asked, your whole body trembling in fear. "Why isn't he moving?"

Thomas checked his pulse and before he had the chance to answer, an explosion occurred directly in front of you, at a distance of not more than fifty feet. You jerked backward and put your arm in front of your face for protection while Thomas leaned on Newt's body to protect him.

''Is everyone okay?'' Teresa eventually asked, looking around to see the damages it had caused.

Your ears were ringing but you nodded nonetheless.

---

''That's them!'' Thomas screamed, pointing to the Berg. ''Y/N, help me !'' he said before throwing Newt's arm around his shoulder, ready to carry him. You quickly ran by his side and you both carried Newt's inconscious body towards the Berg.

''Come on bud, we can do it. It's almost over.'' Thomas whispered as he readjusted Newt's arm around his shoulder. His legs had become very unsteady, and every inch of his body was trembling with exhaustion, just like yours.

''Y/N, you go first! Teresa, help me !'' You nodded quickly and moved, letting Teresa take over your position.

You quickly made your way over to the Berg, but your eyes widened when you realized how high it was. There was no way you could reach it.

"Get closer !"

"We can't, It's too dangerous !" Vince answered.

"Come on Y/N, reach! You can do it!" Minho yelled. "Give me your hand !"

"Come on Jorge, you gotta get closer!" You heard Gally yell from the Berg.

''Jump !''

''Come on, reach ! Come on !''

You took one last look at Newt, then Thomas and Teresa, who both nodded at you. Then, you took a deep breath and leaped off the ledge of the building, jumping onto the Berg. Gally and everyone else quickly helped you on board, and before you had the chance to glance down at your friends that were still on the burning building, you were slowly engulfed by darkness.

---

You woke up to the sound of crashing waves. You eyes slowly opened to the blinding sun, a small groan leaving your lips as you rubbed your eyes, slowly sitting up. You tried to get up but you head was spinning, so you quickly decided against your initial plan and stayed sat. Not even a minute later, Thomas entered the small room, causing you to smile.

"Thomas." You reached your arms out for him and you pulled him in for a tight hug.

"It's nice to see you, sleepyhead." he took a sit next to you. "How are you feeling?"

"I don't know. My head's spinning." you answered. "Where are we? Is everyone okay?" you asked, remembering that you hadn't had any news of Teresa and Newt since you had passed out.

Thomas avoided eye contact, which only worried you more. You took his hand in yours and squeezed it slightly, trying to hold back tears as his own eyes started watering.

"Teresa didn't make it."

Hearing those words felt like a punch in the chest. You tried to speak, but nothing came out. Instead you allowed a few tears to slip out and pulled Thomas for a hug, which he gladly accepted and returned.

"I'm sorry, Tom." he nodded.

"Newt is resting." he continued as he pulled away, probably not wanting to go into more details about Teresa. "We took care of him, he's getting better." You nodded and he tucked a lock of hair behind your ear before kissing your forehead.

"Now get some rest Y/N, you deserve it. And welcome to the Safe Haven."

---

You sat by the sea as everyone was gathered not far away, celebrating the life of those that they lost by engraving their names on a rock and sharing memories.

You considered yourself lucky. You had made it out alive, and most of your friends did too. Thomas, Gally, Minho, Brenda, Newt. You just wished you could've said goodbye to Teresa.

"It's beautiful isn't it?" a voice suddenly startled you out of your thoughts. That voice, you could've recognized it from anywhere. You stayed frozen for a few seconds before your gaze shifted to the source.

"Newt!" you jumped to your feet and threw your arms around his neck, holding him close as you cried silently. "I thought I was going to lose you." you croaked out before pulling away, your thumb brushing his cheek softly. His skin had regained it color and the black veins were almost completely gone. He looked exhausted though.

"I'm fine, love. All thanks to you." you let out a small, brief laugh of relief before pulling him back to you.

You stayed like this for a while, just enjoying each other's company. Your head rested on his chest and your arms were wrapped around each other as you both stared at the sea, admiring the beauty of the sunset reflecting onto the water until you eventually broke the silence.

"The necklace you gave me...It fell when I jumped onto the Berg. I'm sorry.''

"It was nothing important, love." Newt smiled and squeezed your body before pressing a kiss to your forehead. "We're alive. That's all that matters now."

#tmr imagine newt #newt tmr imagine #tmr newt imagine #newt x reader #the maze runner newt x reader #tmr newt #the maze runner newt #newt imagine #tmr newt x reader

[writingsbychlo]

Tommy ;) fucking ;) you ;) into ;) oblivion ;)

It had started out innocently enough, Thomas pressing light kisses to your lips as the two of you giggled on your way home, the little hut you called your own coming into view as you reached the end of the long pathway. 

Thomas was humming under his breath, the song Newt had been playing on his guitar now stuck in his head and he opened the door, stumbling over his feet slightly as the effect of Gally’s moonshine continued to coarse through both of your veins. Taking fistfuls of the material of his shirt, you pulled yourself closer to Thomas, his body falling back against the door as your chest pressed to his, your lips meeting in a sweet kiss as he grinned, his fingers digging into your hips.

“What was that for?”

You grinned at him, shrugging your shoulders before making your way into the cosy cabin, Thomas shutting the door behind you both and sliding the small bolt across to keep it closed. “Tonight was fun.”

“Yeah, it really was.” He sat on the bed, watching you with a dopey smile on his face as he kicked off his shoes, watching you do the same, picking up the humming again and you joined in, singing along the words as best you could remember. Your hips swayed as you awkwardly tried to undress, your body moving in little twirls as you stripped yourself down, preparing to get in your pyjamas. “Stop swaying your hips, princess.”

“What? Why? I’m dancing!” You pouted at him, and he shook his head adamantly, getting to his feet as he crossed the room carefully, his large palms sliding up your back and undoing the clasp on your bra, peeling it away from your body slowly and dropping it to the floor.

“No, what you were doing was giving me a hard-on.” He mumbled, dipping his head to whisper the words against your lips as he pulled your hips flush up against his, grinding up into you as you let out a little moan for him, his lips slanting across yours and tongue dipping into your mouth as the opportunity presented itself.

Your fingers slipped around to his front, toying with his belt and slipping it loose from his jeans as his kisses grew more intense and passionate, moans and whimpers flowing freely between the two of you. When the burn for air became too much, he left your mouth, licking and sucking along your jaw instead as you tried to tug his shirt up and over his head. 

Raising his arms, he allowed you to do so, and you added the henley to the growing pile of clothes littering the floor. Navigating you backwards slowly, your legs reached the edge of the bed, and he leaned down to scoop your legs out from under you. You landed with a squeal, your eyes wide as you looked up at him, bouncing on the mattress as he peered down at you with a smirk. 

“You always look so good all sprawled out for me, princess.”

“And you always look good with your pants off. So, pants. off. please?” You grinned at him, a loud laugh leaving his lips as he leaned down, chuckling against your lips as he popped the button, shoving them and his boxers down his thighs, kicking them off once they had pooled around his ankles.

“I think I look best when my cock is buried deep in your pussy as I fill you up with my cum.” You let out an unashamed moan at his words, your legs rubbing together as you watched him tug at his cock roughly. “You always look best when you’re screaming out my name, your eyes rolling and your back arched as you twitch and shake, begging me to make you cum over and over again.”

“If you keep talking like that, I’ll cum before you even touch me, Tommy.” 

He growled, shaking his head and dropping to his knees as he dragged your underwear from you, hands on each knee to spread your legs apart for him. “Look at you, dripping for me already, honey.”

He cooed at you, pressing kisses up and along your thigh, before dragging his tongue up through your folds, a whine falling from you as your hands came down to tug in his hair. He groaned at the feeling, your nails scraping against his scalp and the vibrations echoed along you, centring back at your core as he lapped at everything you had to give.

You were rolling your hips up against his face, and he nibbled at your clit, two fingers pushing into you and crooning upward to stroke at your walls. “Oh, God, Tommy!” You whimpered under his touch, his fingers scissoring to stretch you open with a delicious burn. His licks, sucks and bites were sending you spinning, he knew exactly how to get you to cum for him, he had plenty of practice and soon you were falling apart under his fingers, crying out his name as you came for him. 

He gave you no time to come down, instead, he was slipping himself into you and rocking his hips again you're slowly, dragging moans and pleads from your lips as he hiked your leg higher up on his hip. The tip of his cock pressed to your g-spot each time, his shaft throbbing with each drag in and out of you as his hands roamed over your skin, setting you on fire with every touch. 

Pulling out, he had flipped you onto your stomach, leaving red , marks across your ass in the shapes of his hands before digging fingerprint shaped bruises into your hips as he fucked into you, one hand in your hair to pull your head back to ensure all of paradise could hear you screaming out for him. You were sweaty, and your throat was raw, your eyes rolling back as he pinched and rolled your swollen bud between his fingers as you came for the third time that night, shaking and trembling in his arms as you felt him explode with you.

He groaned loudly, biting at your shoulder and moaning your name as he filled you up with his sticky essence, his sloppy thrusts beginning to ease until he slipped himself out of you, forcing you onto your hands and knees so he could watch as the mixture of you both dripped out of you, trailing along your thighs and he groaned, collapsing down on the bed beside you as you did the same. 

You lifted your hands over your eyes, giggling breathlessly as your body still twitched and jerked in the aftermath of your pleasure. Turning to look at your boyfriend, he was already grinning at you, his lips pouting as he leaned over, pressing a slow and loving kiss to your lips. 

“God, I love you.”

“I love you too, Tommy.” You mumbled, sighing happily and raising a hand to run your fingers through your hair. Trailing his eyes along your body, Thomas let out a little moan as he spied your ruined form lying amongst the messy sheets. Rolling onto you, he dipped his head, taking one of your nipples between his lips and sucking harshly as you squeaked, one of his thigh nestling between yours. “Really, again?”

“Absolutely.”

#fan-child

[tmrangst]

OKAY

Everyone's like "oh no poor Thomas" "oh Thomas and that necklace" "oh Thomas must be so sad in the safe haven"

BUT WHAT ABOUT MINHO

Newt left Minho, too

Minho thought he could save Newt, too

And let's think about this for a moment.

Minho never actually got to say goodbye

Newt didn't give Minho anything

Minho literally gets saved by Newt only to discover that he's infected and will probably die. He then runs around trying to get the cure for him only to arrive to see his best friend laying on the ground with a knife through his chest after being left in the arms of Thomas

And Newt and Minho go way back

If we're following the movie then we have in the comic that Newt and Thomas were best buds. But that was before the maze.

In the maze we have Minho running around and then finding Newt laying on the ground half dead and dragging his body back to the glade.

We have Minho having to recover himself from that and trying to make sure Newt never gets to that depressed point ever again.

We have Minho trying to protect Newt at all costs

We have Minho getting so happy when he sees Newt smile again

Yeah, sure, Thomas comes and him and Newt have a connection, but Newt literally risks his life for Minho

Refusing to stay and wait with Gally for the serum, and instead running around with Thomas to find Minho because "Minho comes first"

Minho is the one to write Newt's name on the rock.

And Thomas probably never even showed Minho that note. Minho was the one who found it and gave it back to him and Thomas knows that it is their last piece of Newt. Thomas knows how far Minho and Newt go back and he knows how much Minho is dying inside. ( And in the book he promises to never tell Minho what happened to Newt and in the movie he never shows him the letter that newt wrote to him)

Basically, Minho is suffering. And it's overlooked

#tmr #tmr minho #tmr newt #tmr thomas #tdc #newt tdc #thomas tdc #minewt

[dontbethatshank]

The Builder’s Bookworm

Imagine: Gally Imagine Pairing - lots of fluff. Enjoy (:

                           ***requests are always open, my loves***

She was hypnotically strange but oh so endearing. Y/N was one of the only girls in the Glade, but unlike Teresa who had only been around for a few months, Y/N had existed in the Glade since the memory of the Glade existed. She came with the original group.

Y/N. A13. The Guide.

She was a mystery of the sorts but was also a girl who laid out everything. Did she like what Frypan made that morning? Was her favorite color purple? Did she enjoy working in the gardens only because she got to pick and hide the best fruits for herself? Everyone knew these answers - she was honest, upfront. Nothing was between the lines. But she was also very kind - very observant and helpful.

If Frypan’s chicken tasted like rubber and had nothing but pepper on it, Y/N wouldn’t say “this tastes like klunk, Fry”, instead, she would simply wander her way into the kitchen. “You know, I didn’t really care for the chicken last night,” Y/N would murmur, then get off the counter she had planted herself on, wandering around and looking at the varied spices the cooks had collected. “But, then again, I remember how my mother used to make it. She would put oregano and garlic inside of the chicken, you know? Then she would dust it with bread crumbs, chili powder, pepper, and she always would put some lemon slices on it. I remember her dashing on some nutmeg, saying that it was her ‘secret’ ingredient, just enough to confuse the taste buds,” she would continue. Throwing in her suggestions, trying to help guide Frypan and the other cooks to improve their skills. SHe was honest, but she never criticized - she simply tried to help everyone improve.

But the oddest thing about Y/N was her infatuation with books. Coming into the Glade, the boys and herself had few materials. Originally, they were given some clothes, a small supply of food, and then lots of building and gardening supplies. Along with these, came a few books. The books were mostly to help them learn. One was an old book laced with leather binding. It talked about the ancient ways of farming and how one could use the earth to their advantage in any situation. Another talked about the anatomy of a human body, talking about the organs, the vessels, and the artistic standpoint that the human anatomy once presented to the classic artists of time’s past. There were a few others, mostly about building, food, and survival traits. No one else really read them - but Y/N did.

Y/N was allowed to set up a small space on her own away from the boys, mostly so the boys wouldn’t feel awkward being half dressed around her and she could wear her baggy t-shirts and nothing else during hot nights and not be embarrassed when several boys had to scoot away because of the difference of bodies and odd feelings. So she set up a small space between two, tall, thick trees, right on the edge of the Deadheads, facing near where the boys slept but not in direct line with them. Later on, Teresa would join her, setting up her own little area next to her, away from the curious glances of the teenage boys. She had taken some old sheets that were torn and made a small canopy between the two trees, making a tent above her own sleeping bag/hammock that she had strung up. Above her hammock, she strung up three other medium sized ropes, tying them around the thick branches that sprouted from the even thicker body of the two trees. She made it so the ropes all lined up, only one or two inches separated from one another. On those lines she carefully balanced her books, every night, before it became too dark, she would choose one at random and read.

Y/N had read all those books probably 100 times each at least, but she still loved them. And that’s how Gally got the perfect idea of how to surprise the girl he had been crushing on for the past year. Over the past 12 to 13 months, Gally would request between five to seven new books from the creators every couple weeks when supplies arrived. He asked for classics, poems, plays, instructional guides, photography books - anything they would allow. No one ever really noticed, he simply asked for the books to be thrown into the builders’ supplies, and he being the keeper, was the first to ever touch said boxes and supplies.SO here Gally was, out in the middle of the Deadheads, surrounded by the small miniature forest that the Glade claimed as their own. Along with collecting the books, Gally had build Y/N his own version of a ‘library’. Up in the top of one of the thicker, sturdier trees, leaning against a rock formation that stood between the small pond/lake and between the thick wall to the maze, Gally had started his work almost a year ago. He would take the scraps from projects, things that were almost useless, and also some of the unused, bigger pieces of wood and planks, and had begun to build a small treehouse. The tree house in question was roughly 8-foot by 8-foot space, not too big but plenty of space for someone to move around a bit in. He made the ceilings up high, setting the tree house a bit low in the tree itself. The ceilings rose to almost 9 feet in some areas, but that was all good and well.

Gally had built a simple outline. The tree house had four simple walls, a roof, a straight ceiling, and an open space for a door, an old, tattered sheet used as a curtain/door. Inside, along three of the walls, he lined book shelves. He had two small spaces on two of the walls where he put windows covered by curtains and built a small ledge to sit on, even learning to sew - a bit poorly if anyone were to be honest, but useable still - and made small covers/cushions for the small benches near the windows. Gally lined the book cases with all the books he had collected.

Over 150 books lined the small space. On the only empty wall, Gally had lastly requested extra sleeping bags, pillows, and blankets. On the floor, lining a good chunk of the wall, was a reading area filled with the objects. On the last well, he had made a large window, cutting out a long part of the wall, leaving about a foot and a half from the floor, leaving about five feet of empty space as the window above it. Gally made two swinging doors with a latch as the window shutters. They were lined with planks as the frame and had twins, thin branches, and other similar pieces of wood used to make a grate of a type, leaving big open squares in between pieces of wood to allow plenty of sunlight and air to enter even if the shutters were closed. Gally had finished the room finally. He even organized the books by genres for you.

You now had classics, including Harry Potter, the entire series, To Kill A Mockingbird, Lord of the Flies, Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, and many others. Science fiction, historical fiction, history books, scientific research books, books filled with poems, and plays from Shakespeare, Aeschylus, and many other famous Greek philosophers and playwrights. You had an entire shelf filled with Greek mythology, both plays, and more current day stories/explanations. It was a wonderland of literature, to say the least. Gally had set it all up, he even got you a handful of notebooks with some pens and pencils, thinking you may like to write your own poems or stories, or maybe even to take notes or write down your favorite books. He looked around, fluffing the pillows near the big window, tying back the old cloth sheets he made into curtains on the other small windows, and tightened some ropes, making sure everything was double tied, double checked, and ready for you.

“Hey, Gal Pal,” you smiled, looking up at Gally. You were sitting next to Teresa, Thomas, and Newt. The three were eating and talking, making jokes and making light of their lives, really. You... well, today you were reading the artistic viewpoint of the human anatomy and its role in the Renaissance era, from one of the anatomy books you had held so dearly the past couple years. You set it down and look up at him. You had only taken a few small bites of your turkey sandwich and had some fruit next to it that you had most happily eaten most of it.

“You wanna come and uh, eat lunch with me today?” Gally asked, sounding very hopeful as he crossed his arms across his chest, a smile daring it's way out from under his lips, flashing brilliantly at the beautiful girl sitting just underneath him. Smiling, you agreed and grabbed your plate as Gally went and grabbed his. “Hey, can we go grab a couple of yours books real quick, I always wanted to a uh, take a look at them,” Galy said, a small lie slipping from his lips. He had wanted to look at them, more so to see what caught your attention so much, but he really didn’t want to see them now... he just wanted to put the final books into your collection. “Sure!” you grinned widely, happy to share the gift of books and literature with him. Swinging by your little hammock area, you had finished off your lunch, Gally taking a quarter of your sandwich in exchange for you taking some of his fruit. One of the reasons you both liked being around one another - taking the other's food.

“Here we go,” you hummed, picking up about five books, all tattered and a bit banged up, into your arms. Gally smiled and grabbed your hand, leading you into the Deadheads. You followed, a bit confused but smiling nonetheless. You had always had a small crush on Gally, since you had really came up here, really. But you didn’t say anything, you knew it could mess some things up - throw some people off balance. And you were the one who basically established the balance, so you never dared to disturb such a thing.

“Here, I have a small gift for you,” Gally whispered, leaning down as he squeezed your hand, kissing your cheek. You bit your lip and grinned, butterflies flapping wildly in your stomach as his coarse lips brushed your cheek. “Close your eyes,” Gally smiled, placing his hands over your eyes as you closed them and held your books closely to your chest. He led you deeper into the wooded area, and you soon heard the sound of the pond near you, the small bit of running water, where it fell down some rocks and made a small current movement, always keeping the water in motion, near you as you walked. Soon, you walked closer to said noise and a bit off to the side. Gally stopped, moving you back a bit as if getting you in just the right spot.

He carefully pulled the books from your arms and set them down on a rock, his body coming back to yours and wrapping arms loosely around your waist, his chin resting on your shoulder. “Alright Y/N, time to see your present,” Gally breathed into your ear, and you could feel the small smile on his lips as they brushed against your ear.

Slowly, you opened your eyes, and you almost fainted at the sight. You saw about five to seven feet above you a small treehouse. The roof of the treehouse reached up high, almost poking out the top of the tall trees surrounding it, barely concealed. Underneath the small opening where a curtain hanged, waving loosely in the wind, there was a hole in the floor, a rope with slanted, thick pieces of wood nailed to the tree, allowing a way to climb up to the structure. Looking to your right, you saw that the tree house was balanced against a structure of several rocks. You noticed a makeshift small set of stairs coming off the rocks and up to the treehouse, on the opposite side of the small balcony area. The rocks were smooth and a bit lopsided, but made naturally forming stairs that led to the small set of hand made wooden steps. Gally kissed your shoulder gently before grabbing your hand, picking up your pile of books with his other arm, as he led you up to the makeshift stairs, guiding you up to the treehouse. After a few minutes of careful climbing, one almost fall, and a loud, boisterous laugh falling from your lips, an embarrassed tint of the cheeks accompanying it, you and Gally both made it up to the treehouse.

He guided you inside and as you stepped inside, you almost cried, your hands coming up to cover your mouth, your eyes watering as you looked around. Gally gently set the small books onto a shelf where an empty space was, the books fitting almost perfectly into space, leaving about three or so inches of emptiness once placed into the spot. Gally came to you and grabbed both your hands, lowering them to both your sides, and smiled at you, a bit shyly now, his leg seeming to bounce now.

“I, uh, I know you really like books... and so, for a few months I was uh, I asked the creators to send me some books for you. I really, really wanted to ask you something important, but I thought you deserved to be shown how serious I was about asking you that I decided I needed to do something special for you first. So... I made you your own mini library! It... well, it isn’t much, I know. But, it’s yours. All of it. You have a big open window for the breeze and sunlight and a little place to sleep and read, and you have journals to write in and draw in or whatever you want! And, and I uh... and it’s yours,” Gally explained, a bit dumbly and his cheeks tinting pink as he continued to babble.

Taking a deep breath, he looked at you, his hands squeezing yours. “Y/N, will you make me as happy as you are right this second in this room, and be my girlfriend?” Gally asked, chuckling a small bit and smiling at you, his eyes glimmering down at you as he spoke. “I can do you one even better,” you replied, your grin wide and taking up your entire face as you stepped forward, “I can make you as happy as I am in this room while kissing my boyfriend by saying yes.” And with a giddiness that made your body shake and your heart vibrate throughout your entire self, you leaned forward, pressing a kiss to Gally’s lips. It was a messy kiss, a bit clumsy, but it was perfect for the two of you.

Pulling back you glanced at the books. Your fingers danced across a few of the books before pulling one out, “The Complete Poetry of Edgar Allen Poe,” and you grabbed Ally's hand, taking a seat in the nest of pillows, blankets, and sleeping bags near the window. You threw open the shutters to the window and leaned back into Gally’s chest, both of you getting comfortable, as you opened the book.

“Can I read to you?” you asked Gally, glancing up at him with a small, curious smile. With a wide grin, his arms settled around your hips, his chin nuzzling comfortably into the crook of your neck as he hummed. “I’d like nothing more, my beautiful little bookworm,” Gally grinned.And so there you both sat. You reading out loud the famous, classical poems by Edgar Allen Poe, Gally scrunching up his face, asking why of all books you chose one of the most depressing, but loving the sound of your voice speaking over the literature nonetheless. Your eyes danced with a colorful glint and your fingers itched to flick to the next pages, and Gally barely heard the words you spoke. All the builder heard was the excitement, and buzzing sound of dedication in your voice as you read, your words never tumbling or tripping as you did, and all he felt was the vibrations from your chest as your heart fluttered with each new word, each new poem, and the excitement that seeped from every part of your body, as you curled against him.

And, yea, Gally was definitely sure he made the right choice in getting you your books. Not that he ever really doubted it, you truly were a bookworm, after all.

#gally #tmr #mazerunner #maze runner #imagine #imagines #preference #preferences #gally imagine #request #gally tmr

[dontbethatshank]

Little Lies

Request:  “And the request is for Newt, of course, based on the song I'd Lie by Taylor Swift. Have you heard that one? It's about her loving him while being his best friend and never saying how she feels but at the end can you make the reader and Newt confess their feelings and get together? Because that'd be wonderful. I want you to write it along the lyrics of it actually :) so if you can do it it'd be really great♡”

A/N: Again, whatever you have read or watched, ignore for this imagine. I had to use some creativeness to get the lyrics involved. So I created some of my own plot holes which are similar to parts of the movies and such but not exactly. SO just imagine creatively and enjoy!

“Y/N!” the young, 12-year-old boy yelled, grinning wildly. I looked over curiously, my own 11-year-old self-confused as to what was going on. “What?” I asked, defensive almost. “Why did the chicken cross the road?” Newt asked, leaning on his hands, looking at me as I finished my self-test/survey. “I don’t know,” I shrugged. “To get to the other side!” Newt exclaimed, grinning at his own joke. I faltered but laughed, smiling widely at him. Whenever he tells me a joke, I fake a smile and laugh; even if it isn’t funny.

“Y/N,” Sonya looked at me and I hummed in response. We were in our shared room. We had come to what many call Paradise not too long ago, and everyone soon fell into their own spots. It was like a better functioning maze, everyone having a spot and what not. It was a comforting system to me. “What’s up, Sonny?” I hummed, sitting up and looking at her from across the small, shared room. “Newt is working here in the gardens since it’s what he knows best... and, well, I don’t know. It’s just been so long since I’ve seen him, you know? And it’s almost like seeing a stranger, I barely remember anything he likes. But, any ways, I wanted to make him another panga blade, for gardening. But I was going to wrap it in rope since the handle is really rough and to make it personal. But I don’t even know his favorite color anymore,” Sonya sighed. 

And indeed, a long blade laid before her, sharpened herself, with a thick, rough looking handle that could probably give a few good splinters. “His favorite color is green,” I hummed, without thinking,” It’s a dark forest green. Like... this.” I told her, pulling a long piece of thin, tightly woven rope from the small bundle she had on her bed. Sonya gave me an odd look but mumbled a thank you, grabbing the rope and beginning to wrap the handle. She sharpened the blade against one of her rocks, the sound almost melodic at this point, and I quietly sighed, thinking of her brother. God, out of everyone and everything I could have remembered, why did I have to remember only him? And why, in such great detail?

Walking through the night, a pack on my back and a blade in hand, everything was qiet. The buzzing of the crickets and the small noises of insects and animals roaming about were heard, but no one talked.The others and I had set up camp, a small fire and decent shelter were set up between a small group of thick trees. Two of us were always up, on guard, every couple hours. Tonight, at this time, it was Newt and I. We sat against a tree, Newt facing the rest of the woods and I facing towards the camp. We both watched our part of the area, randomly moving around to get better views. 

Neither of us had talked in awhile, but then Newt let out a gentle sigh.  “I wish I could remember what life was like...” Newt mumbled. Several people from my own group had run and escaped with Newt and the other boys, trying to escape WCKD and their stupid trials. All of us were in the same boat; lost, confused, and scared. “Me too, bud, me too...” I mumbled. The truth was, I remembered Newt. I truly did. I could list off random facts about him that I couldn’t even remember about myself. It was terrifying, but also... reassuring. “Like... my birthday. I know I have one, we all have a bloody birthday, but... I couldn’t tell you mine even if my life depended on it right this second,” Newt sighed, rubbing a hand over his face as he turned to look at me a bit more clearly.

And without missing a beat, I replied. “You were born on the seventeenth. The seventeenth of October,” I mumbled in response, my eyes falling to my hands. Newt got quiet and looked at me curiously. “How do you know that?” he finally asked, and all I could do was manage a shrug in response. “I remember us being close, being good friends... I guess, some things just... stuck. Like that, I remember small details, but nothing much else,” I replied. Lies. But only a little lie. I did remember small details... but I remembered many small details about the boy in front of me. Including the fact that I loved that boy.

“Thank God, I finally found you, I need your advice,” Newt said, grabbing my shoulder as he ran up behind me. Turning around I saw the boy, a sheet of sweat on his face, his brand new blade from his sister tucked under a strap on his back. “What’s up, kidd?” I asked, smiling at him. He always came to me for questions. I’m not really sure why, but I happily gave him my advice freely and my honest opinions. I tended to be that way for most of our friends. Everyone used me as their faucet of advice, and it always comes to them freely when they ask.

“Well, you’re the most honest person I know. Hell, I don’t even think you are physically able to lie. Anyways... I have some, girl.. questions,” Newt began, scratching his neck awkwardly. I forced a smile. It was only time. Being in Paradise meant more people; more girls; more possibilities. Of course, he would finally find one to set his eye on. And I truly was happy for him. “Go ahead, shoot away with your questions,” I laughed, walking with him as we headed to get some water in between our work. “Alright well, you see, this girl is really... not into normal girl stuff I guess? Like, she really likes to make blades and I’m pretty sure the idea of romance is probably sickening to her-” Newt began, and Istopped him, laughing. “Newt! No. Any girl, no matter who she is or who she likes, likes romance,” I laughed. He would never tell anyone, but he could play guitar; and if this mystery girl of his meant that much to him, I’m sure he could find the romance and talent up his sleeve to play her a little song to tell her just how he feels...

“No, not this one,” he argued, a frown on his lips. “No, trust me, she does. Everyone likes a bit of romance. It’s... sweet,” I replied and smiled. “No, no. Like she really isn’t into relationships or romance stuff or-” Newt began, the frown on his face deepening and becoming more confused. With a roll of my eyes I walked ahead of him, chuckling. “God, you love to argue,” you muttered, grabbing a canteen and filling it with water as I did so. Newt pouted gently at me, huffing as he did so. “Come on! I really need some honest advice! You would never lie, not to me anyway, I just... I really need help,” he groaned out.

“Fine, fine, I’ll help you. There are so many things you could do, ya’know? A secret picnic, maybe play her a song, or...” And it was true. I would never tell a lie. I praised myself on my high morals. I hated lying. I especially hated lying to Newt - I could never knowingly tell him an untruth. But if you asked me if I love him, I’d lie.

It was hot. I was tired. And no matter what I did, everything seemed to go wrong. I had messed up a building I was working on with Gally, Kiana, and the others. I had honestly ruined a weeks worth of effort, which pissed Gally off, but Kiana reassured me and so did Brenda when I saw her earlier. But the one thing I did that I didn’t even know how I did, was I pissed off Newt.

I was walking back to my shared room with Sonya, mumbling to myself and toying with my dirty hair as per usual, when Newt came up. I was tired and wasn’t in the mood to help with his mystery girl for the day, so I did my best to kindly brush him off. “Hey! Y/N! Wait up,” I heard from next to me, and then suddenly the tall, lanky boy named Newt was magically by my side. I smiled weakly up at him as I continued to walk sluggishly, and he smiled, rubbing the back of his neck as he let out a breath.

“So, uhm... this girl. I really want to just, ya know, tell her that I like her. I was going to do a big reveal or take her on a small, surprise date but... I think just saying it will be the best way. So... how should I do that?” Newt asked, looking down at me hopefully. With a small, inward groan, I stopped and looked at him. I didn’t have the self-esteem nor the patience to do this today. Not to watch and listen as he talked about this girl he loved so dearly. “Just, tell her. No wording it oddly or anything, just yanno... say it, blunt and clear. It’s the best way, otherwise, things may get messed up,” I nodded, affirming my opinion on it.

“I like you,” Newt said, letting out a breath as he looked down at me. I hummed and nodded, turning back to continue walking. “Yes, exactly like that. Now go on, go tell her,” I sighed. Newt grabbed my wrist, stopping me. “No, Y/N, wait-” he began, but I was too tired to listen to it. “Seriously, just go tell her, alright? I’m not in the mood to really listen to you drone on about her. It’s hot, I’m tired, and it’s just not a good day,” I replied, sighing. Newt dropped my wrist, a blank look on his face before he nodded and walekd away, silence following him and filling the space between us.

“I’m holding every breath for you... making sure I never tell you how I feel,” I whispered quietly to him as he walked away. And I was. Every time I heard him speak about his mystery girl, I smiled. As his best friend, I was proud of him and wanted him so, so happy... but I bit my lip and held my breath, afriad I might say just how I feel if I didn’t watch my tongue. And oh my God, it hurt so bad.

It was the next day, the day after I exploded on Newt, and I felt like utter crap. I wanted to apologize. To beg for his forgiveness. I couldn’t lose my best friend over some stupid jealousy that Ive kept hidden for what feels like a lifetime. No, that wouldn’t be fair to him. I had to talk to him. To apologize. To make it up to him. And I was going to... as soon as I could find my damn pants.

As soon as I was dressed, I checked myself in the dirty mirror and fixed my hair. I used to put on my make up and hope for a miracle that maybe Newt would notice, and he would see a beautiful girl. But now, after he’s talked about this girl he likes for the past three weeks, I just gave up. So as long as my clothes didn’t smell too bad and my hair looked like I at least tried to fix it this morning, then I looked good enough for whoever saw me today.

“Newt!” I called, seeing the boy sitting on a small wooden stool. “My God, he’s beautiful,” I thought to myself. He was wearing fresh, clean, new clothes. They were simple grey jeans and a light blue button down. They definetely weren’t work clothes, so I had no idea why he was dressed so... nicely. “Y/N,” Newt responded, smiling at me. “Hey, look, I really need to-” I began, raking fingers through my hair as I sighed, looking up at him. “No, no. Here, I need to show you something first. Come with me,” Newt butted in, grabbing my wrist and pulling me with me.

Obediently, I followed, confused. We walked for awhile, quietly. He held my hand, guiding me. We walked into the thin, small gathering of trees outside the small city that we had built up here in paradise. The day was cooler than before, and the shade of the trees made it nice and cool. I could hear the faint sound of running water, and Newt finally pulled me into a clearing. It was a small waterfall, water cascading down a piling of rocks into a small pond, and beside it on the grassy area, was a small, thin blanket. On the blanket was a basket and some food was laid out. I looked at Newt, confused; bewildered was more like it.

“You said to directly say it, so there were no mix ups... but, there was a mix up. So I decided to say it and show it,” he explained, guiding me to the blanket and sitting us down. As we sat down he grabbed my hands, looking me in the eye. “Y/N, I like you. No, a better phrase I suppose would be, I love you,” Newt began, gulping down a big breathe. “I remember us before the Maze. I remember us being friends. I remember all these little quirks of yours that you still have... like how you only like crunchy peanut butter, or how you will only ever eat grapes if they’re cut up and mixed with another fruit. I remember your birthday, and your favorite colors, I remember that you love to argue with me just as much as I love to argue with you... and I remember that you are still the most beautiful girl I have ever seen,” Newt mumbled, looking down into my eyes.

“Newt, I... I love you. God, I love you so much. I’m sorry for snapping at you and just... I thought you were talking about another girl and it hurt and just... I love you,” I stuttered, trying to find the ight words and ultimately still failing. Newt laughed, his hand coming up and two fingers laid under my chin, pulling my face closer to his. “I love you, Y/N. So much,” he whispered, before pressing a kiss to my lips and gently pulling me closer to him. And my world was on fire and I felt like a thousand fireworks were going off inside of me.

“I’d never lie about loving you. Never again,” I mumbled, then leaned in closer to kiss him again. No more little lies. Because if you asked me if I love him, I’d never lie.

#tmr #newt #imagine #request #song au #song imagine #taylor swift #lyrics #tmr imgine #tmr preference #newt rm #newt imagine #tmr newt imagine