#tmr newt fic

[thomasbrodiesandwich]

i just want all maze runner fanfic writers to know that i will NEVER get tired of reading safe haven everybody lives or newt lives or death cure fix-it aus. NEVER. if u guys ever doubt urself and think nobody is going to read that in this day and age, I WILL !! if u write safe haven newt lives au and u have 100 readers i am one of them. if u have 10 im still one of them. if u have 1 reader thats me. if u have no readers that means im dead. go ahead, write it and i will gobble that up and give u all the love !!

#thominewt #the maze runner #the maze runner fic #the maze runner fandom #thominho #newtmas #tmr fic #tmr thomas #tmr newt #tmr newt lives #tmr fix-it #im all abt that hurt/comfort #go write that nightmares + trauma angst hurt/comfort #i WILL read it i swear! #i'll just dig around ao3

[book-place]

Story of Tonight

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

Pairings: Gladers x reader platonic

*not my gif*

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

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

Inspired by: The Story of Tonight by We the Kings

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

I may not live to see our glory

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What is this place?”

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

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

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

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

“I think it is.” He whispered.

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

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

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

But I will gladly join the fight

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And when our children tell our story

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thomas.” He mumbled, looking slightly disoriented.

“What?” Your eyebrows furrowed.

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

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

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

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

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

“I-he-“ Gally sputtered out.

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

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

“Tell me about it,” Thomas muttered.

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

They'll tell the story of tonight

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

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

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

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

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

“Y/n.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Thomas.”

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

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

“You saw him?” You hesitated.

He nodded his head, “Clear as day.”

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

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

Let's have another round tonight

She’s the last one. Ever.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Let's have another round tonight

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“This is your last warning.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Let's have another round tonight

It was one bad thing right after the next.

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

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

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

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

“They’ll be alright.”

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

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

You didn’t know what to do.

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

Minho was dragging Alby along.

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

Your mouth went dry and your throat began closing up.

“Come on!”

“Hurry!”

“Leave him!”

“Run, Minho, run!”

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

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

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

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

Raise our glass to freedom

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your feet remained firmly planted on the ground.

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

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

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

There stood Alby, Minho, and Thomas.

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

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

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

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

Something they can never take away

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No matter what they tell you

No, no, no, no-

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

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

The sky was gray and the sun had disappeared.

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

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

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

It was all too much. You could hardly breathe.

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

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

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

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

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

“You don’t say.” You deadpanned.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Raise our glass to the four of us

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tomorrow there'll be more of us

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Telling the story of tonight

It was a code.

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

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

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

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

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

Hope. Genuine hope.

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

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

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

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

Your heart stopped.

“What?”

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

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

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

The story of tonight

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#book places 1 year event #platonic #platonic imagine #x reader #tmr x reader #tmr thomas x reader #tmr thomas x reader platonic #tmr newt x reader platonic #tmr newt x reader #tmr minho x reader #tmr minho x reader platonic #tmr chuck x reader #tmr chuck x reader platonic #tmr alby x reader #tmr alby x reader platonic #tmr frypan x reader platonic #tmr frypan x reader #the maze runner #maze runner x reader #song fic #song imagine #song inspired fic

[ateotd-izzy]

maroon | thomas x fem!reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

☾

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“oh.”

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

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

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

thomas.

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

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

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

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

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

“okay.” you stared.

“see you around, y/n.”

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

“thomas.”

“see you around, thomas.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

thomas held your hand the whole time.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

kissing.

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

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

your heart was broken.

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

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

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

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

he looked at you. he was confused.

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

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

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

you had seen brenda kiss him.

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

“you okay?” she asked.

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

then he ran out of the tent.

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

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

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

“y/n?”

you looked up and thomas realized you had been crying.

“what?”

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

“you okay?”

“i’m fine.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“then why—?”

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

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

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

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

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

“i know. i was kidding.”

you grabbed his hand and interlocked your fingers.

“i’m sorry.” he apologized.

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

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

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

he chuckled. “okay, maybe not. but—”

“tommy, i get it. don’t worry.”

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

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

sonya, aris, minho and you.

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

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

taglist: @brvceyamada

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

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

[kareofbears]

"You know," Thomas starts, putting the flowers down on the sand as he rolls his sleeves up. "How you yelled at me, back in the Glade, because I wasn't helping out?"

A breeze ruffles his hair, longer than it was a year ago, and the tang of salt doesn't register anymore. "I know, I know. You technically didn't yell. To be fair, I was new, and it's not like I had someone showing me the ropes."

He kneels on the ground, in front of where the tombstone stood. This wasn't the boulder that Vince had set up in the beginning of Safe Haven's existence--this was smaller, flatter, bordering on where the sand meets the dirt. "Now, I feel like all I'm doing with these kids is showing the ropes."

Busying himself with rearranging the flowers, he rubs his thumb on a golden petal idly. "They're doing fine. Between me and the others, things are getting done. Maybe not as efficiently if you were here, but we're trying." He pauses. "I'm trying."

Thomas' voice doesn't shake, not anymore. How can it? It's just him and Newt. His voice never shakes with Newt.

Waves crash somewhere behind him. A bird chirps, its tune lively and bright. The world continues to spin, and it's a long moment before he speaks again.

"I'm throwing myself into work, Newt." His gaze tilts skywards. "I'm working, aren't I? I build homes, I teach, I train the others. There's food, so much of it, enough for years and for anyone who wants to start a family. Last night, I woke up because people were laughing so loud near my bed--laughing. I couldn't even get mad."

Careful not to mess up the floral arrangement, Thomas leans forward slowly until his forehead is pressed right up against the slab, stone cool to the touch. "How busy?" he wonders. "How busy do I need to be until this gets better? How much more do I need to do before it starts to get better? How much more do I need to give?"

When he doesn't get an answer, Thomas lets his eyes slip close. "I'm busy, Newt. I'm busy, and I'm trying, and I'm so fucking sad."

Eventually, Thomas raises his head. He presses his lips to the top of the tombstone, smiling wryly to himself. "At least I can actually reach the top of your head like this, right?"

He gets on his feet, brushing the sand off of his pants, feeling the sun beat relentlessly down on his skin. "Tomorrow, then. Maybe it'll get better tomorrow."

#drabble #tricky tricky writers block eh #too short for ao3 just the right size to post on tumblr #the maze runner #fic tag #newt #maze runner #TMR #thomas/newt #newtmas

[hollybell51]

can you post newt x female reader smut? i had a look at your wattpad and noticed that you already had some but it's in the old style (i'm assuming it's your old style) and i really like how you write now (the stuff you post on here). obv only if you're comfortable with it, btw i love your work!

First of all, I'm glad you like my stuff! Secondly, I sure can! I've got some brand new things I cooked up a while back, and I would be delighted to share the love xxx

Just like that

Series masterlist, masterpost

Newt x fem!Reader

Maze Runner (2009 novel - James Dashner, 2014 film - Wes Ball)

Word count: 2318

Summary: shameless Newt smut. Enjoy.  

Content: smut. Porn with like the tiniest hint of a plot. Friends with benefits type beat. Making out, blowjobs, hickeys, light praise kink (kind of), light dirty talk, masturbation (kind of), hair pulling (reader is the puller), cowgirl position (sort of??? Idk??), al fresco lol 

Notes: I’m so sorry I have no idea how to tag this stuff. Literally what’s in “content” is in it, there might be stuff that I forgot so I apologise but it’s basically just what you’d expect from smut (I’m pretty basic)

You were kissing Newt. Or maybe Newt was kissing you, since he’d started the whole thing when he had put down the now empty cup of hot tea the two of you had been sharing, sheltered behind the partially rotted corpse of a massive tree, and taken your chin between his strong fingers, turned you to face him, then very deliberately pressed his lips against your own. You’d just smiled and let him, giving as good as you got. He still tasted like the drink, the sweetness of the honey you’d insisted on adding coating his mouth. And so it was that you came to be locked in a soft embrace now, with your movements lazy and relaxed as you took your sweet time exploring each other. 

It wasn’t an uncommon occurrence; you liked Newt and he liked you, and both knew it. It was nice to have a sort of outlet every now and then, someone who you didn’t have to pretend to be anything other than yourself around, and who didn’t pretend around you. And that’s what Newt was, and what he had been for some time, ever since a few months ago when the two of you had found yourself drunkenly making out behind the homestead while the other Gladers enjoyed a bonfire. 

Now, Newt’s hand had found its way to your breast, tracing circles over the material of your shirt and making your skin prickle. You traced a line along his jaw, your finger trailing down his neck to rest on his shoulder. You shifted yourself slightly, angling your body further towards him to ease the suggestion of a stiffness threatening to grow in your neck if you kept up your current position much longer. Newt’s mouth was still soft on yours, his tongue stroking your own lazily, but something about him was saying that he wanted more – or would soon. 

“Do you want me to suck you off?” you asked, breaking the kiss. The two of you had decided a while back that being open and up front was the way to go – “candid,” Newt had stated solemnly, and you’d agreed. 

He seemed to consider for a moment, then glanced around to check for anyone in the immediate vicinity. The fallen tree trunk you were sitting against wasn’t all that deep into the deadheads, and while it was huge and had served as an excellent shelter numerous times before, it never hurt to be careful. It wasn’t that either of you were ashamed of your standing with the other – your “situationship” you jokingly called it – it was just that it would be awkward to get caught. 

Now, Newt smiled at you and nodded. “Yeah,” he said, placing another gentle kiss on your lips. 

You returned the smile, slipping your hand under the waistband of his pants, massaging his cock gently. You felt him grow hard, and when you were satisfied, you deftly unzipped his pants. You smiled again, spitting into your palm and resuming your light ministrations. 

Newt raised his eyebrows, clearing his throat. “Love, that’s wonderful, but quit teasing.” 

“Magic word?” you grinned. 

Your friend sighed, rolling his eyes. “Please,” he huffed. 

You nodded, licking your lips before gently kissing the tip of his dick and lowering your mouth over the head. Newt gave a tiny moan – well, something between a sigh and a moan – and moved his hand to your hair, his fingers tracing patterns gently over your scalp. You really liked giving blowjobs to Newt; he was always so gentle and considerate, and it never even felt like you were “giving” him anything. Sure, his dick was in your mouth, but it was more like something you were doing with him, something nice and fun and extremely gratifying. Especially when he talked to you, which he was doing now. 

“That’s it love,” he murmured as you swirled your tongue around him, your hands working what wasn’t already in your mouth. “God, you’re good at this.” 

The praise lit a warm glow inside you, and you sank your head lower. Newt’s breath caught in his throat as you hollowed your cheeks, the tip of his dick now almost touching the back of your throat with every bob of your head, your hand still taking care of the base. It was as slow and laid back as your kisses had been just minutes before, and you loved every second. 

You continued like that, basking in Newt’s grunts of “yes” and “fuck” and the occasional “God, (Y/N)” before his fingers slid from your hair to under your chin, prompting you to stop. You released him with a wet sort of “pop” sound, licking your lips delicately while still holding his throbbing cock in one hand. His cheeks were flushed, his eyes bright as he looked at you. Your own face was warm, matching the not entirely unpleasant heat you’d felt building between your legs. 

“Take your pants off and come here.” He patted his lap, kicking his own pants further down his legs. 

You grinned. “Is that an order or an invitation?” 

“An invitation, since you never do anything I order.” 

“It’s cause you never say please,” you deadpanned as you shuffled out of your pants, discarding them and your underwear to one side. You swung a leg over Newt’s hips, straddling him, and placed your hands either side of his face. “How’s this?” 

“Yeah, not bad,” he nodded, his own hands easing your shirt upwards. You let him, lifting your arms obediently as he slipped the piece of fabric over your head and sent it the way of your pants. He kissed along the line of your bra, then, watching your face carefully, reached around and undid the clasp. He caressed your breasts softly, sweetly, and slowly. That really did seem to be the theme of the day. 

“Hey,” you said after a moment when he made no move to take his own shirt off, your hand coming to rest over his. “How come I’m naked and you’re not?” 

He shrugged, twisting his hand to entwine his fingers with yours. 

“Hardly seems fair,” you breathed, sliding your hips over his. 

Newt’s breath caught in his throat once more, and he rolled his eyes at you. “If you insist.” 

“I certainly do.” You pushed his shirt up, pulling it deftly over his head and tossing it to the side before laying your palms against his warm skin. You knew there were things Newt liked more than his own body, but you’d never really understood why. Sure, he was skinnier than some of the other boys, and his leg was a continuous chip on his shoulder, but you thought he was hotter than anyone you could name off the top of your head and you made sure he was aware of the fact. 

In fact, the first time he’d expressed anything resembling insecurity, you’d been watching him get dressed after a night well spent, idly pondering how perfectly formed he was, how smooth and seamless every movement was even with the addition of his limp. You’d been so caught up in watching the dance of his lithe muscles under his skin that you hadn’t even noticed the apprehensive look on his face as he turned away from you. 

“Can you… not watch me?” he’d asked hesitantly as he pulled on his shirt. 

“Huh?” you’d frowned, sitting up. 

“You were staring, can you not do it?” 

“Oh.” You’d felt your face colour and had looked away, embarrassed. “Sorry.” 

“‘Sfine,” he’d said. 

You’d asked why, hesitantly and as politely as you could. You just couldn’t work out why this boy, who was totally comfortable making you plead his name as your thighs squeezed around his shoulders and your fingers pulled his hair enough to make him moan (which was how you’d found out he liked his hair being pulled, but that was a story for another time), couldn’t deal with you watching him get dressed. 

He’d shrugged, then turned around and spoken directly to the wall beside your head. “I don’t really like how I look.” 

You were baffled to say the least, and had very nearly burst out laughing. “But you’re so…” you’d said instead, stumbling for the right words. “You’re so hot,” you’d blurted at last. 

Newt had shrugged again, bending to lace up his boots. “Maybe to you.” 

After that, you’d taken every opportunity – ones that weren’t too obvious, of course – to subtly express just how attractive you thought he was. From outright whispers of “fuck, you’re hot” mid tryst to casually proclaiming him gorgeous in the middle of a conversation, you really did take any chance that presented itself. And now was no different. 

“Damn,” you smiled, bending to place a kiss on his collar bone. “You’re fucking sexy, you know that?” 

“Look who’s talking,” he scoffed, but you caught the tiny upward twitch of his mouth. He brought your hand to his face, gently kissing your knuckles. You let a sigh escape you, rocking your hips over his once more. He was hot against you and the sun, now beginning to sink below the walls, caught in his hair, lighting it up in gold like some kind of halo. You’d hardly have been surprised if he sprouted wings right then and there. 

“Quit teasing, (Y/N),” he half laughed, half growled. Then added “please” almost as an afterthought. 

“Since you asked so nicely,” you smiled, the hand that wasn’t being held by him sliding down over his chest, his stomach, finally coming to rest on his dick once more. You carefully lined him up, and at his nod, sank gently onto his length. 

You didn’t move right away, shifting your hands to the log either side of Newt’s head to steady yourself as you let yourself adjust. You rocked experimentally, earning a soft sigh and whispered “yes” from the boy under you. 

“Just like that,” he murmured as you moved again. Another thing about Newt that you’d learnt was that he liked when you rode him like this, liked guiding your hips over his while showering you with kisses – and the odd hickey. He was doing it now, his hands gentle yet firm where they slid over the skin of your thighs and hips and waist, his mouth warm and silken where it roamed your chest and neck. 

“Fuck, Newt,” you breathed, letting your fingers tangle in his hair. You didn’t pull it as such, just hinted at it. Still, Newt’s breath hissed between his teeth and he looked up at you from a particularly dark hickey at the curve where your neck met your shoulder, his eyes dark. You gave his hair the gentlest tug, tipping his head back and kissing his lips, his jaw, and down his throat. 

Newt’s eyes were closed now, his breath shallow as you ran one hand down over his front, fingers skimming the subtle planes of muscle as a leaf skims the surface of a puddle. You kissed him again, slowly, your mouths melding perfectly together. 

“Touch yourself,” he murmured against your lips. “I want you to cum.” 

“I wanna make you cum,” you replied. It was true, you loved nothing more than watching Newt unravel because of you and only you, even if it was both of you doing the work. 

He shrugged. “And I want you to get yourself off riding my dick, I want to watch you.” 

“Ok.” You kissed him again, then slid the hand that wasn’t still tangled his hair down your own body to the heat between your legs. You bit your lip as your fingertips grazed your clit, stifling a moan. 

“Don’t keep quiet,” Newt urged. “I wanna hear you too.” 

God, this boy, you thought as you let yourself whisper a curse. Did he have any idea what he was doing to you? He probably did, actually, you reflected as your fingers rubbed tiny circles over your clit. You leant forwards to get a better angle, your chest brushing against Newt’s and your face inches from his own. He was watching you, his attention fixed only on you. You felt yourself twitch and your muscles began to tense as you found the perfect spot, the moans you let escape growing in frequency and volume. 

“Move me,” you choked as you felt yourself teetering on the brink of your climax, every fibre of your being pulled taught. 

Newt nodded, rocking your hips over his as your fingers continued their motion and you hung, suspended for a second before everything came crashing in on you. 

“Fuck, Newt, oh my god,” you groaned as the orgasm flooded over you. You were dimly aware of him moaning your name and realised that your hand had tightened in his hair and that he was still moving you. “Keep going,” you sighed, cupping his face with one hand while the other continued to card through his hair, pulling occasionally. 

“Mm, (Y/N) oh–” he broke off and you gave the handful of hair you had a firm pull, now taking over your own movements as he released inside you, bliss flooding his face. 

You continued to slide your hips over his until your legs had ceased to shake and a little of the haziness had gone from Newt’s face, settling comfortably onto his lap. Wordlessly, you placed a soft kiss on his forehead, brushing the hair from his face and tracing patterns over his cheeks and neck, all the way down to his chest. He smiled at you, bending to sooth the dark marks he’d left on your skin with kisses of his own, holding you close against him. 

“I love this,” he said at last. 

You tilted your head to the side, nonplussed. “Having sex with me?” 

He considered, nodded, then, “being with you.” 

“I love being with you too,” you whispered as you kissed him again. 

#Maze Runner #the maze runner #newt maze runner #tmr #tmr fanfiction #tmr fic #newt #newt x reader #fanfiction #fanfic #self insert fanfiction #maze runner fanfiction #reader insert #fem!reader #smut #maze runner smut

[radiantdanvers]

Imagine being the Genius of the Glade

#the maze runner #the maze runner x reader #tmr #tmr thomas #tmr minho #tmr newt #maze runner #the death cure #the scorch trials #moodboard #fic ideas #fic inspo #pov #pics not mine

[moonyswritinq]

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

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

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

-🦇

if the haircut fits — newt x male reader

❝ IF THE HAIRCUT FITS ❞

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

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

PAIRING ➢ newt x male reader

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

WORD COUNT ➢ 7.3 k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Whatever, man.”

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

“Shankhead,” he muttered.

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

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

“What?” you spit at him.

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

“Smooth,” Newt commented when you reached him.

“Shut up.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why? Does it bother you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah,” you answered with a sheepish grin.

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

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

“Your food tastes much better.”

“It’s exactly the same.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fine.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Never said that.”

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

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

“Now?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Since you asked so kindly.”

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

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

“Anything for you, Newt.”

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

“How’s it going, Newt?” you asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Good.”

“Better than before?”

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m not.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You sure about that?” he asked sceptically.

“Er, yeah?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#moonyswritinq #newt x male reader #tmr newt #the maze runner #newt x reader #x reader #x male reader #tmr newt x reader #the maze runner x reader #the maze runner x you #tmr x you #tmr x reader #tmr x male reader #tmr newt x male reader #the maze runner fic #minho #tmr minho #gally #tmr gally #alby #tmr alby

[bellzsad]

beginning to plan my next fanfic today !! and yes, it's going to be newtmas.

#yk i couldn't stop writing about my babies #newtmas #tmr #fics #fics‼️ #fanfic #fanfiction #the maze runner #maze runner #tmr newt #tmr thomas #tmr tommy #dylmas #the death cure #wattpad #death cure #scorch trials #the scorch trials

[justanobsessedfangirl]

A Mission - The Maze Runner Imagine

Request from Anonymous: i loved ur 'how you meet' preferences!! could you write a griever slaying fem reader? i know this sounds wack but hear me out she comes straight out the box running for the hills and instead of stopping when they tell her not to go in there she runs straight in. minho or one of the other runners find her killing a griever and theyre like what the FUCK and he drags her back to the glade like why is there a girl here why was she killing a griever and everyone is like what the FUCK just everyone being confused and bewildered at the first girl in the glade being batshit crazy

Author's Note: Thank you for the request! I hope you like it!

Word Count: 2.2k

I have a mission.

It's the first thing you remember when you wake up in this cramped box, and for a while, it's the only thing you can think.

I have a mission.

The details come to you in fragments. You know you'll have to run. You're ready for that, pacing around the rising room to keep your muscles warm.

I have a mission.

There's going to be danger, that you're sure of. The scars on your body that you have no memory of getting make you wonder if this isn't the first time you've had a mission like this. There's a long one that snakes along your calf, like someone wrapped a curl of barbed wire around your leg. Your hands are littered with tiny, long-healed cuts. When you flex your fingers, you feel strong. Hardened.

I have a mission.

The room shudders to a stop. The far half of the ceiling opens up and daylight pours in. You sink further into the shadows. The light stings your eyes, and the gentle hum of the ascent has been replaced by clamoring voices and the sound of constant movement. The box shakes with the thud of someone landing inside.

I have a mission.

You dart across the room, hearing the voices change to shock and confusion, and leap for the wall. Your fingers just barely grip the top. Your feet scrabble for purchase on the slick surface, but you're determined, you're quick, you're strong, and this is your mission so you must succeed.

You haul yourself out of the box. A mob of teenage boys stands in front of you, all around you, some laughing, some glaring, many simply confused. You run at them and they scramble away. For a strange, detached moment, you feel like a queen walking to her throne, the lords parting before her in deference, cheering.

There is no cheering as you sprint across the grass.

"He's making a run for it!" someone says, cackling.

"I think that was a girl," comes a different voice.

You run faster. Your eyes have adjusted to the brightness and you can see the blue sky, the grassy ground, and the hulking stone walls boxing you in.

Escape one box and run right into another, you think, and then, I have a mission.

There are a few breaks in the walls, massive doorways leading into a mystery. You're heading for the closest one. Behind you, there are loud footfalls and cries for you to "Stop! Don't go in there!" It sounds like someone tells you to "Stop being such a shank," but his words are choppy, confusing, and all you want is to complete your mission.

The entrance is so close, just a few more seconds of all-out sprinting, when you feel the heavy presence of someone behind you. Someone who wants to grab you. Who wants to stop you.

Without planning to, you come to a dead stop and drop into a crouch. The person behind you was too close, they can't stop soon enough, their shin collides with your back as they trip over you and slam to the ground in front of you.

You're back running before you can take a close look at him. Every muscle in your body is moving with instructions you haven't given, implementing lessons you don't remember teaching. Your surroundings are entirely new, entirely foreign—and yet, there's an uncanniness to everything you see. The colors and the season and the people are wrong. But the bones of this place, those are familiar. Especially, you realize as you enter the gap between the walls, the maze.

For the first time, your steps falter. The walls are gray stone and decked in ivy. That's wrong. They should be…they should be…

You want to shiver, the memory flees, all you know is the mission.

You sprint and take a left at the four-way intersection. All of the voices have faded. No one seems to be coming after you as you make your way down corridors, following a path that's branded like fire in your mind.

Straight. Right. Right. Left. Straight. Left. Right. Right. Straight. Straight. Straight. Left.

Here.

Here is a dead end. The walls are so thick with ivy you can barely see the stones. The air is still as a graveyard. You stand, panting, trying to remember what comes next.

From atop the wall, there's a clicking noise. You look up.

The creature is hideous, all mechanical limbs and throbbing, human-like skin. You half-expect giant wings to unfurl from its back (why? The memory slips away like a shadow) but instead it starts climbing down the ivy, whirling and clicking. Razor-sharp barbs glint along its body. Its mouth, a maw of metal, gnashes hungrily.

You remember what you have to do.

The boys find you faster than you thought they would. You hear them round the corner as the monster shrieks its death knell. Its mechanical body curls in like the husk of a bug. Blood drips down your arm, getting on the wires that droop from the metal disk you're holding. It's still warm from the creature's chest cavity, where it had been nestled like a heart. The disk is pockmarked with flashing dots of light. They blink at you a few times, the pause between each growing longer, and then they wink out. The creature at your feet, speared by its own jagged limb, falls silent.

"What the fuck."

The boy isn't asking, you realize as you turn around, the metal disk slipping from between your blood-slicked fingers. He has dark hair and dark eyes and an athlete's build, all lean muscle and confidence. His gaze darts from you to the monster, then back to the monster.

He's flanked by two others, one with shaggy brown hair and freckles who looks to him in deference, and the other, dark-skinned and serious, who steps forward, side-by-side with the speaker.

"Minho," commands the dark-skinned boy, "check that the Griever's really dead."

The boy who spoke first nods and starts toward you, trepidatious at first, then more sure as sees the monster (the Griever?) more clearly. "Definitely looks dead," he says. "I don't know how she's not."

Their stares feel like drills boring into your skin. Your back aches, hot with blood, and the muscles in your legs are tightening up. Your mission is done, you should feel happy, but you're still here in this strange, wrong, too-familiar place, and the adrenaline that had been fueling you is fading. You want to go home. You want your sleeping bag, covered in a blanket of fur and nestled in the—the—Gone. The memory is gone.

I had a mission, you think. And then you say it out loud, testing the words on your tongue, "I had a mission."

The boy closest to you, the one who'd been called Minho, stares at you like you've grown a second head. "You're jacked," he says with a breathy, perplexed chuckle.

The insult is on your lips before you can remember where it comes from: "Crackhead."

Minho lets out a booming laugh, then turns to the other boys. "Can we keep her, Alby?"

The serious boy, Alby, frowns deeper. "We need to hold a Gathering. Thomas, go tell Newt. We'll be right there."

The third boy, the one with brown hair and freckles, nods warily. He takes one last look at you and sprints back the way he came. You watch him go, ignoring the boys he left behind until you hear a clatter of metal.

Your body jerks into action, spinning around and putting your hands up, ready to fight the Griever again if you have to. But it was just Minho kicking the creature's body, poking and prodding at its innards.

"What's your name?" Alby asks from behind you.

You turn and back up a few steps so you can keep both boys in your field of vision. Minho is crouched over the Griever. Alby is staring at you, his gaze heavy, solemn. Distrustful. 

"Y/N," you tell him.

Minho pries the Griever's jaw open. His voice echoes off the metal tunnel of the Griever's throat as he asks, "How'd you avoid getting stung?"

Before you can answer, Alby cuts in, voice sharp and angry. "Where did you come from? What do you mean mission?"

Your body aches. You don't want to be here, standing over a mutated, cybernetic monster, being questioned by strangers. "I don't know. I can't remember anything."

"You remembered more than we did," Alby fires back.

Minho straightens up. "Let's get her back to the Glade, Alby. She can answer at the Gathering."

You hate their lingo, want to spit on all of the slang you don't understand because you know the words that should be there instead (it's not called the Glade, it's called the…) but you can't find the words, so you jog with them through the maze, following Minho, Alby a few paces behind you. They have you locked in. There's an urge to break away from them at one of the intersections. You could push Minho into the wall and sprint past him, only where would you go? 

"What is this place?" you ask as you run.

Minho glances back at you. He looks apprehensive, but there's a curious glint in his eyes. "We're in the Maze. Although, you really shouldn't be in here, Greenie." Looking forward again, he speaks in a louder voice, "Clearly you're a rule-breaker."

You still kind of want to push him.

As you get closer to the "Glade," you hear the murmur of voices. It gets louder and louder, until you can see the door at the end of the corridor and, beyond it, a swarm of boys. Somehow, they get even more raucous as you get closer. Their shouts blur together, meaningless words and sounds filling the air. They clamber into each other, everyone wanting to get closer, no one willing to step into the Maze.

"Out of the way, shanks!" Minho yells.

Boys push and pull, slinging insults and questions, and somehow the mass of chaos becomes two distinct groups, one on each side of you.

Minho leads you across the grass to a rustic building. It's practical and sturdy, all of the effort put towards making a building that won't fall, none left to make it inviting. Inside is quieter. For a second, you're grateful because the blood rushing in your ears and the pain singing across your body is enough noise. But as you follow Minho into another room, the air grows thick and tense. Every breath feels like you could choke on it.

Eleven boys sit in a semicircle, two empty seats amid the line. In the middle of the room is a single empty chair.

Your stomach sinks. Your feet pulse with pain.

Alby enters behind you, jerking his chin at the chair in the center. "That's yours." He watches and waits until you slowly walk to the chair and sink into it.

Your skin feels hot. You're acutely aware of the blood on your clothes, the sweat on your body. You feel like a science experiment, everyone examining you, anticipating your reactions so they can write them down, dissect them, find the answers they want. Mouth dry, you swallow and wait.

Alby and Minho take their seats, Minho beside the third boy from the Maze, the one Alby called Thomas.

"Who—"

"Why—" 

"She's a—" 

"We can't trust—"

"She killed a Griever." Alby's voice rises above the rest, the stern tone of a leader.

The other boys erupt into more questions. They bounce off the walls. You don't know who to look at, gaze darting from boy to boy until you land on the blond next to Alby. He's one of the few that isn't speaking, his brown eyes boring into yours. You don't know if he sees fatigue, fear, or anger on your face, but he gives a slight nod, almost to himself, and holds up a hand.

"Slim it!"

The others get out a few more unanswered questions before falling silent.

"What do you remember?" the blond asks, his words tinged with a familiar accent. You can't place where you've heard it, who you've heard it from, but you remember that she had blonde hair too, and…The thought fades away.

"I know I had a mission," you say. It's as simple as that, but the boys stare at you like you're speaking another language.

"What does that even—"

"Who gave you—" 

"Where the fuck did you come from?"

The blond again holds his hand up against the barrage of questions. 

The large boy to your left who spoke last scoffs and protests, "Let us ask, Newt. I know how we can get some answers."

Biting your tongue to keep more insults, origins unknown, from bursting out, you add the name to your memory, filing it with the others. The boy with the accent is Newt. The leader is Alby. You followed Minho through the Maze. And the third boy from the Maze who sits beside Minho, eyebrows furrowed together, his name is—

Thomas stands up. He looks far away, his eyes distant and unfocused. The room slowly quiets down.

"What is it, mate?" Newt asks.

Thomas doesn't look at him. For a few seconds, he just stares at the wall. Then his eyes snap to you. "She shouldn't be here."

The large boy grins, a harsh, twisted thing. "The Greenie's growing a brain."

Thomas doesn't react. Your eyes are locked with his, your breath stuck in your chest. Should you stop him? Should you beg him to continue? You don't have time to do either. Thomas stares at you and speaks.

"She's from Group B."

#the maze runner #maze runner #tmr #the maze runner imagine #the maze runner imagines #maze runner imagine #maze runner imagines #tmr imagine #tmr imagines #tmr newt #tmr minho #tmr thomas #tmr fic #tmr x reader #tmr fandom #tmr fanfiction #tmr gally #the maze runner newt #the maze runner minho #the maze runner thomas #the maze runner gally #maze runner newt #maze runner minho #maze runner thomas #maze runner gally #maze runner fanfiction #thomas tmr

[oceans-goddess]

I don’t know if you would be open to this idea but a tmr newt imagine where the reader hurts her knee and now has a limp like newt and she is frustrated with it and it gets him to open up and it’s all fluffy??? I have just had knee surgery so I am being very self indulgent… again if you don’t want to no worries at all!!!

Author's note: Omg of course!!! Agh, I'm so excited, this is my first time responding to a request, so I hope you enjoy! Also, I wrote this really fckin fast, so I'm sorry if it's shit.

Guys, send in more requests! This was so fun to write!!!

Pairing: TMR Newt x reader

Warnings: mentions of suicide and death, leg injury

“This bloody knee!” you hissed, tossing your gardening tool to the side and pulling at your hair in frustration.

“Did you just say bloody? I must really be rubbing off on you” Newt said from above you. You gasped in surprise.

“Newt! What are you– aren’t you supposed to be talking with Alby right now?” You asked.

“Finished early. Not much to debrief today. Aren’t you supposed to be heading to lunch?”

Your boyfriend sat down beside you and picked up the tool you’d been using, toying with it as he waited for you to respond.

“I don’t think I’m gonna make it today. I’m running way, way behind. This piece of klunk knee brace won’t let me bend down to work, and Clint and Jeff refuse to let me take it off. I have to either stand straight or sit down, neither of which are fast enough to finish all this in time.”

You finished speaking with a huff, and Newt smiled beside you.

“Hey, that’s just what a brace is meant to do. You shouldn’t bend it until you’re all healed up. It’s only been a week, love.”

A week, you thought, recalling the accident that had occurred just a few days before:

“It should be all set. Just take it easy for a few weeks, y/n,” Jeff explained, helping you to stand and placing a rudimentary wooden crutch under one arm.

“And no more messing around climbing trees,” Clint warned, opening the door that led out of the med-jacks’ building where Newt waited. You nodded, but the comment stung your pride.

Earlier that morning, you had been sitting up in a tall oak tree in the deadheads. The location was morbid, you knew, but it was also quiet. A place to breathe. To think. If you sat up there long enough, it sometimes felt like the trees went on forever– like there were no walls, no maze, standing just yards away, separating you from the world beyond.

You’d been up there a while, and you knew your break would soon be over. The gardens needed tending, after all. That, and Newt would begin to worry and come looking. You knew he could handle himself, but the last thing you wanted was to see him struggle through the underbrush of the deadheads with his bad knee because of you.

You swung yourself off the branch you’d been sitting on and began making your way down the tree. As you placed your foot onto a small notch in the tree bark, the branch you held onto with your right hand snapped. You gasped, clawing at what was left of the branch, but your foot slipped, and suddenly you were falling to the side.

You let out a scream and braced yourself to hit the forest floor. Your right knee was the first part of your body to land, and it connected with a rock or a tree root– you weren’t sure. Your right shoulder slammed to the ground, though thankfully, it seemed that your knee had borne most of the brunt of the fall. Chest heaving, you slowly sat up and you tried lifting yourself off the ground. Pain surged through your leg, and a cry of agony escaped your lips. You sat back against the trunk of the tree for a moment, then tried to stand again. It was in vain– your leg couldn’t support you.

Just when you’d made your mind up to crawl back to the field where someone would see you and bring you to a med-jack, you heard a crunch of leaves nearby.

“Y/n?” Newt called frantically. When he saw you, the expression on his face made you want to disappear. His eyes were wide, and he cringed as he saw the way you held your leg. Others followed behind him. How he’d gotten here on his leg first, you didn’t know. Must’ve been the little piece of runner still left in him. He dropped down onto his knees beside you, calling out, “Bring the med-jacks, now!”

And then you wound up here, with a makeshift brace around your leg and a boyfriend that wouldn’t stop looking at you with that nauseatingly concerned expression on his face. It was all you could do not to scream in anger and humiliation.

You shook yourself out of the memory and turned away from Newt.

“I know the brace is helping. It’s just– it gets in the way. I’m so much slower than I was, so much less graceful, efficient, I feel… I feel like I just don’t operate like I used to. Like I’m supposed to. It’s so embarrassing. Like, everyone else is pulling their weight but me.”

It was quiet for a moment. Newt only watched as you clenched your fists together, but when he noticed that you were beginning to hold back tears, he reached over and rubbed your back.

“Hey, it’s alright. I understand. Sometimes I feel the same way about my own knee.”

At that, your stomach dropped, and you clapped a hand over your mouth. All the complaining you’d just done must’ve sounded so horrible– so inconsiderate– to him. You’d only been struggling for a week; his knee would trouble him for the rest of his life. And even then, he was trying to make you feel better, like always. That was what made you care so much about him. He always did what he could to make things easier for you, to comfort you, to make you happy.

“I’m so sorry,” you breathed.

“It’s okay, honestly. It’s alright.” Newt scooted closer to you and draped his arm over your shoulder. You leaned into him and took in his warmth, his earthy smell. 

“Can I tell you something kind of sad?” he asked, his voice only a whisper. You didn’t know where this was going, but you nodded silently. Newt took a deep breath beside you.

“Aah, okay… you know I used to be a runner and everything, right? Before my knee?”

You nodded again, looking up at him. His brown eyes gazed down into yours with a mixture of affection and anxiety, but he continued on.

“Well, I don’t really ever talk about how I hurt my knee. It’s…” he swallowed. “it’s hard to talk about it now.” He shifted uncomfortably beside you, but you waited patiently.

“I… I really hated it here for a long time. It’s alright now, I’ve sort of made my peace with living here, in a way, but I just couldn’t take being trapped in this box. It drove me mad. One day, while I was on a run, I climbed up some of the vines and ended up on top of one of the maze walls.”

You could hear his heart beating faster now as you leaned against his chest. The next words out of his mouth were barely a whisper.

“I knew this wasn’t what I wanted. I couldn’t stand it. And I… I jumped.”

You gasped and sat up, looking into his face for more information. He only looked back at you with the most heartbreaking expression you’d ever seen on him.

“I wanted to be done. With it all. But, much to my resentment at the time, Alby found me. Dragged me back into the glade just before the doors closed. They fixed me up. I spent about a month under constant supervision from Clint and Jeff, and then I wasn’t allowed to be alone for another few weeks. Everyone thought I’d try again. I… I wanted to.

“It was even worse with my bum leg. Everything was harder, more irritating. I felt more useless every day.”

Hot tears rolled down your face. Newt brought up one hand and wiped them away with his thumb before kissing your forehead.

“I’m so sorry, Newt,” you whispered, and he pulled you in for a tight embrace.

“It’s alright, love,” he whispered back. “Things have gotten better since then. I found I was pretty good at gardening, and now, here I am. Made some new friends as well. And, of course, I met you.”

Newt pulled away and brought his hand back up to your face, resting his palm against your cheek.

“And I promise you I’m here to stay.”

You let out a quiet sob and pulled him in for a kiss. Your lips met passionately, and you ran your fingers through his dirty blond hair. He was as gentle, as loving, as always. When you pulled away, he was smiling.

“Another thing that’s changed though,” he began, “is that I’m seriously afraid of heights now. That fear extends to you. So please, love, please, I’m begging you. No more climbing trees. I almost had a heart attack when I heard you scream”

You let out a surprised laugh before responding.

“Okay, honey. Don’t worry. No more climbing trees. I promise.”

“Good,” he said with a nod. “Now– let’s go get some lunch. We’ll worry about the garden later.”

#requests are open #newt #tmr newt #newt x reader #newt x y/n #newt x you #newt maze runner #tmr #the maze runner fic #the maze runner fluff #newt x reader fluff

[thatgingerswritings]

Stay with me

Newt X Reader

→ He/him pronouns

→ Movie based but I put a few things from the books, mainly for the griever description

Synopsis: reader is a runner and unfortunately meets a Griever during his daily run in the Maze. He comes back to the Glade terrified and seeks comfort in Newt.

Warnings: none

A/N: English is not my first language, I also may not know the whole Glader's slang but I hope I got it right. Please correct me if I made any mistake!

!!REQUESTS ARE OPEN!!

You were about to leave for the Maze with Minho. Your bags were ready and you were just waiting for the keeper's green light, but it seemed that he was taking his time today. Which was weird, considering Minho's devotion. Weird or not, he wasn't there, and you were not a runner for nothing: you couldn't stay still. You had zero patience and needed to let your energy out to not go insane between these walls. So you decided to do a quick warm up by jogging around the Glade until Minho decides to show up. After a quick stretch, you run to the Homestead.

As you pass by the Gardens, a voice you know very well calls you.

"Oh hi Newt!" you say as he walks to you.

"What are you doing?" he asks and looks around, "where's Minho?"

You shrug. "I have no idea. Maybe that shank decided to sleep in." you answer, earning a little laugh from the blonde.

An awkward silence followed, you didn't know what to say as you were too focused on your racing heartbeat. Newt made it beat faster than any running session, but he didn't seem to notice and you wouldn't tell him. After two seconds of silence that felt like two hours, you speak again, trying not to stutter.

"I'm going to look for hi-" you began, but you feel a fist hitting your shoulder, "ouch!"

You turn around and see your friend. His eyebrows frowned and his arms crossed on his chest.

"Where were you?" Minho asked, annoyed.

"Where were YOU? I went running because I was bored, I waited for you for almost 30 minutes!"

You pointed an accusing finger at him and he rolled his eyes.

"Yeah whatever, let's go." he said before walking to the door.

You sigh and turn to Newt again. "See how he treats me? A tyrant." He smiles at your comment. "Guess I gotta go then, see you later!"

"Yeah, be careful."

"As always," you give him a wink, which caused the boy to blush a little, but you didn't notice.

You smile at each other and you have to mentally slap yourself to walk away from Newt and get to the Maze. You join Minho who's waiting for you, the bag on his shoulders and his arms crossed.

"Who's waiting for who now?" he says as you roll your eyes.

"C'mon it's been two minutes!"

"Felt like an eternity."

Minho really got on your nerves sometimes, but you knew he was doing it on purpose so you couldn't be mad at him. He sure was funny, but you would never tell him that as he absolutely didn't need an ego boost. You put your bag on your shoulders and follow your friend in the Maze before separating ways and going to your section. You ran for hours, following the path you were used to and taking notes at every turn. You were here for almost a year and a half and you basically knew the Maze like the back of your hand.

After a few hours, the sun was at its zenith and you decided to take a break to eat and drink. You took around 15 minutes off, as you did everyday, because again, staying still longer was impossible to you. You could handle an hour or two with nothing to do in the Glade, but in the Maze it was a whole different story. So you packed your things and went on your daily routine, but before you could make a step, you heard it. The metallic stomps against the cold stone of the Maze, and the horrible grunt you could hear at night when you were not sleeping. You froze and held your breath. A thousand thoughts were running through your head and you knew you had to run, but your legs were like paralysed and you couldn't bring yourself to move. You didn't know when you started breathing again, but another set of metallic sounds and rattlings got you out of your trance and your legs finally moved again. You carefully approached the origin of the sounds. You had no doubt it was a Griever, but you wanted to make sure it didn't notice you.

After only a few steps you realised that walking towards a Griever was definitely the worst idea you've ever had, but there was no time to think about it as the creature rolled in front of you. It was on the other side of the corridor, about 50 meters away. Your body moved by itself, you had no time to think. You heard it go after you and you tried to run faster if it was possible, cursing under your breath. The Griever was getting closer, and tears started to blur your vision. Your legs felt like they were on fire and you could swear your heart was about to explode in your chest. Even your throat hurt from breathing so fast. You could still hear the Griever rolling behind you, his pliers slamming as if it was just having fun by menacing to catch you. Though the sounds were distant; your heartbeat was so strong you could feel it in your head and you heard your blood's pumping.

You turned around a few corners of the Maze without thinking and luckily you didn't end up trapped in a dead end. You ran for hours, refusing to stop before you arrived in the Glade, you weren't sure if the Griever was still after you but you were too scared to look behind you. You couldn't hear anything else than your heartbeat and your loud steps echoing on the huge walls.

One last turn and you saw the vast green expanse in front of you. You didn't slow down and even tried to run faster to the Glade. In just a few seconds you exited the Maze and were back in the only safe place you knew. A few meters in the Glade and you finally stopped running (more like your legs gave up and you fell on the ground). You tried to catch your breath but you started crying at the same time which could give the impression to anyone seeing you that you were convulsing. To your own surprise, you didn't cry for long, just a few minutes, but it took you some time to breath normally again. You sat down, your back against the wall and your gaze on the grass. Zoning out, you didn't hear the steps approaching you.

"Y/n? Why are you already back?" you recognised Newt's accent and looked up. He immediately kneeled in front of you, visibly worried. "Are you okay?"

"I... I just saw a Griever..." your voice was shaky and tears were coming up to your eyes again, "it- it chased me and... I don't know how I'm still alive..."

"What?!" Newt exclaimed before processing to check out your body for possible wounds, "did you get stung? I'm calling the medjacks!" He got up and you grabbed his hand.

"No, I'm fine..." your voice broke and tears were running down your cheeks again, "can you stay with me..? P-Please..." you said between sobs.

Newt nodded and kneeled in front of you again. Your back no longer against the wall, you threw your arms around his him and sobbed heavily against his chest. He hugged you back, his arms around your shoulders. His left hand gently rubbing your back and his other hand resting on your head. "It's okay," he whispered, "you're safe now." You stayed like that for a few minutes, until your sobs became soft sniffles. Newt's grip on you loosened when he felt that you were calming down, but you didn't let go an even held him a bit tighter.

"Wait," you said with a little panic in your voice before whispering again, "don't pull away... not yet." He put his arms on your back again. "Okay, I'll stay as long as you need."

#tmr fic #tmr newt #newt x y/n #newt x reader #gay #lgbtqia #fanfiction #the maze runner #imagine #the maze runner imagine #tmr imagines #x reader #x male reader #male reader #gay mlm #mlm #the scorch trials #the death cure #tmr fandom

[that-girl-glader]

Nah, cause I physically have to remind myself that Thomas and Newt are FICTIONAL. FICTIONAL. Because I keep getting Hella depressed everytime I see the longing in Newt's (great job by Thomas Brodie gangster btw) eyes. Like omdays that boy LOVED Thomas. And omdays Thomas loved Newt, BUT BY DASHNER. Newt DIES??? AND I AM SO SO SAD THAT THESE TWO PEOPLE SO DESPERATELY IN LOVE DIDN'T HAVE TIME. AND TIKTOK EDITS ARE NOT HELPING. FOR the sake of my own mental health. I have to remember that they aren't actual people just to stop from hurting so much. It just makes me so sad.

#tmr #tmr series #newt tmr #thomas tmr #newtmas #newt and thomas #newt x thomas #I need to inject every fix it fic in my blood stream #guys any fic recs? #love them #idk why I'm so attached to this book series

[wiser-girl]

newtmas?

Yes! Always!

(I’m still way too proud of this incredibly depressing edit so taking this as an excuse to repost it lmao)

#sorry anon idk what you mean by this lmao #if it’s just general thoughts: I’m obsessed with them and about to do my yearly reread of my fav fic #if it’s what is that: Newt and Thomas from The Maze Runner books/movies #they’re very tragic and very in love #hence me being obsessed with them #if it’s an ask game I forgot about: sorry hadjah #please feel free to elaborate I always want to talk about them lmao #anon #ask #my post #newtmas #tmr

[bruh--wtf]

*forgot to say on my last request but can it be a tmr fanfic, I don’t mind what character but I’d love either frypan or Newt? :)

Not a Joke

Newt x Reader

Main Masterlist

Summary: Newt and the reader finally clarify that the flirts were never jokes.

Maze Runner Masterlist

2: “You ramble, I find it adorable”

24: "How about we start off slow. Can I hold your hand?"

Requests are Open for all characters

@ecstacyx

*Sorry it took so long to answer this request!*

“Newt!” You exclaim, running into the gardens. Newt looks up instantly, slightly alarmed by the way you came up to him. You were still in your running gear and grinned at him as you came to a stop.

“I went into that new section to day with Minho! It was so cool! There were these thin metal wall thingys, and-”

“Are you supposed to be telling me any of this?” He asks, raising an eyebrow. You wave him off, smiling still.

“I tell you everything I’m not supposed to. I expect the same in return,” you say, giving him a pointed look. Newt just chuckles and nods, picking up the basket he had in front of him before he started walking. You walk in step with him. “Anyways, I think we’re figuring out the pattern more and more every day. Like this part is new, but it’s similar to a lot of the old ones. I think we’re getting closer!” You exclaim, shaking his arm a little bit. Newt just smiles at you and you go back to talking, which is usually how your dynamic works.

“What would you do first when we get out?” You ask. You swing your arms a little as you walk. Newt just starts transferring the crops into their designated areas. “I think I want to have something to eat. I love Frypan, but I wanna try something that isn’t one of our designated three meals,” you say. Newt chuckles at that and nods. “What about you, Newt?”

He just shrugs and you sigh, thinking of going to shake him a little on the shoulders, but think better of lifting your arms. You need to wash up. As soon as possible. Newt raises an eyebrow at you and you sigh again. “I need a shower.” Then you smirk at him. “Wanna join?” Newt blushes as he always does when you flirt with him. You chuckle a little again. “We could start off slow… Can I hold your hand?” you say, reaching out so he can grab you hand. Newt looks at you for a second, his blush deepening.

“Maybe later, Y/N.” You frown a little as he steps away and you drop your hand. “I’ll see you at dinner.” He walks away. A second later, Frypan walks up to you and dusts off his hands.

“You’re so mean,” he says. You give him a confused look.

“What do you mean?”

“He’s so into you and you keep messing with him!” Frypan exclaims. You blink at him.

“I wasn’t messing with him,” you say. Did Newt think you were just messing with him? Oh no, you hoped he didn’t think that.

“Doesn’t seem like it,” Fry says before walking away. You frown, and look over at where Newt was still walking.

You just decide to go shower before dinner. You sit next to Newt when you get to the tables. He gives you a small smile and you start talking to Minho across the table. You decide to grab Newt’s hand under the table about halfway through the meal. He tenses up next to you, a soft blush on his cheeks. You don’t say anything about it, though, and neither does he.

After dinner, you got up and Newt looked at you. “Uh, Y/N?” You look at him and raise an eyebrow.

“Yeah?”

“Can I talk to you for a minute?” He asks. You nod and sit back down, your legs on the opposite side of the bench as his.

“What’s up?” You ask. He just stares at you for a moment before clearing his throat.

“Why’d you do that during dinner?” He asks. Your eyes crease a little, confused.

“What do you mean?” He clears his throat again and glances around. He lowers his voice like he doesn’t want any of the others to hear.

“You grabbed my hand.”

“I held your hand, Newt. And you didn’t pull away.” You cross your arms and give him a pointed look.

He gives you a sharp look back. “Why on earth would I pull away from you?” He asks sharply. You raise an eyebrow at him.

“I don’t know what’s going on in your head,” you say, making him visibly confused. “First you act like you’re uncomfortable because I held your hand, and that’s fine I won’t do it. But then you say something like that. I flirt with you and you never flirt back, but you don’t tell me to stop either.”

“Y/N,” he says, trying to cut you off but you keep talking.

“Sometimes I can’t tell if you like me or not.” He sighs like he’s going to say something, but you continue. “I don’t know what you want me to do Newt, because if you don’t like me just tell me. I won’t keep making a fool of myself if you don’t want me,” you say. You pause, out of breath and Newt just stares at you for a second. His eyes were wide and wandering over your face. “What?”

“You. You ramble, it’s adorable,” he says. Your eyes widen a little and he raises an eyebrow. “I think this is the first time you haven’t had something to say,” he says. You blush a little, looking down at the table. Newt reaches over and places his hand on yours.

“I could never tell if you were serious or not,” he admits. “I wasn’t about to make a fool of myself by flirting back with someone I like just for a bit.” You frown a little.

“I was never joking,” you say. He smiles a little and nods.

“I see that now.” He makes a point to officially hold your hand in his. “I’ll hold your hand now.”

#newt fic #the maze runner newt #newt x reader #newt #newt tmr #newt imagine #tmr newt #tmr x reader #tmr fanfiction #tmr series #tmr fic #tmr frypan

[mystic-writings]

remember the nights | chapter four — the willow tree

WORD COUNT — 2,390

WARNINGS — talk of parental death and parental abandonment, cheating, and divorce

NOTES — god i love this chapter with everything i have i'm not kidding

previous chapter | masterlist | next chapter

Since your first ‘official’ group hang out last Friday, you’d nearly been jumping at any opportunity to hang out with the group. Sure, when you read into it it sounded borderline creepy, but you couldn’t help it. You’d never had that much fun with your friends before, even in the city, where pretty much anything and everything was at your fingertips. 

You could only compare it to the high you felt the first time you’d ever watched a musical in a theater. You were a freshman at the time, and your dad surprised you with tickets by calling you out of school in the middle of the day. You’d never forget the magical, light feeling that filled your chest throughout the show, watching everything happen all at once and so quickly, admiring the performer’s work in real time. It had been such a rush that, for the following four days, everything felt dull, and all you wanted was to relive that night over and over again for the rest of your life. 

Today was Thursday, and although everyone would be hanging out again tomorrow at Mickey’s, some of the group had decided to hang out at the park again, anyway. All of you did have some form of curfew for weeknights, so it would be bordering on sunset when you would meet at the park, before one by one, you’d all have to head home at one time or another. 

When you’d left school, it was agreed — everyone would meet at 6pm by the gate. But as you got home, and the evening crept onward to the time you were supposed to leave, the texts began trickling in, and before you knew it, almost everyone had canceled. Whether it was family obligations, chores, or — in Harriet and Sonya’s case — couple time to themselves, everyone who was involved in the initial plan had canceled, aside from Newt. 

Not long after the final cancellation text came through — Minho, saying that his parents had family coming into town and needed to help get the house ready — your phone began to ring from its place on your bed, where you sat writing the last few sentences of your history homework. 

You pushed the textbook and workbook from your lap, reaching for the phone only to see that Newt’s contact was the one lighting up your screen. You prepared for another cancellation excuse before pressing the bright green ‘accept’ button and holding the phone to your ear. “What’s up?”

Newt’s voice filtered through the speaker almost immediately. “We’re still hanging out tonight, right?”

“Yeah, we are,” you said, “but it’s just gonna be us, if that’s alright. Literally everyone else canceled.” 

“Really?” Newt asked, and you muttered a confirmation in response. 

You sighed, leaning back on your bed frame. “I know we were supposed to go to the park, but Minho has the key, so… is there anywhere else you’d wanna hang out?”

“Actually, yeah,” Newt replied. “I’ll be there to pick you up soon, yeah? Half an hour.”

“Got it.” You nodded. “Half an hour.”

With Newt’s final goodbye, you picked your book back up and finished off what little you had left of your history homework. As you did though, you thought about spending time with Newt, just Newt, and how you haven’t had the chance to do so since he gave you the tour of the school. The thought seemed to bring an untameable smile to your face. 

By the time Newt’s car appeared in the driveway, and Newt at the front door, you had packed all your schoolwork away, pushed your hair back (after attempting four different styles), and grabbed a hoodie to wear. Whatever makeup you’d put on at the beginning of the day was mostly worn off now, and you didn’t see a point in reapplying anything, because as long as your mascara and eyeliner weren’t majorly smudged, you were okay with how it looked. 

Newt came in after you greeted him at the door, giving you time to gather up what you needed to and to slip your shoes on, and he talked with Maggie and your dad as they watched a movie in the living room. When you finally stepped out of the house, the sky was painted with an array of oranges, fading into various pinkish red tones, and finally, a beautiful purple that got deeper and more rich the higher in the sky it went. 

“So, what are we doing tonight?” You asked as Newt reversed out of the driveway. 

“I was thinking we’d grab some food from Mickey’s and hang out over on the field by the school?” Newt suggested, turning onto the main road. “Nothing extreme, y’know? We have all night tomorrow to do that.”

You nodded and told him that it was a great idea, looking out the window as he drove. It was getting visibly darker with every passing moment, and the lights on Newt’s dash and radio were glowing a bluish green when he parked in front of the diner. When you stepped out, you were met with a subtle breeze, which was quickly overtaken by the warmth of the diner. 

It was quiet inside, with only a few straggling patrons scattered around. Mickey greeted you both at the counter with his usual bright smile as you sat on the stools, ready to order. “Aren’t you two supposed to be here tomorrow?”

“Yeah, but you know me, Mickey.” Newt smiled cheekily. “I just can’t get enough of your amazing food.”

Mickey laughed before taking your orders — you, another loaded burger meal and double chocolate milkshake, and Newt, a crispy chicken burger and vanilla milkshake. Newt ended up paying for the food, but only after you argued about it and settled on you paying for his food tomorrow. 

You admired the retro style of the diner as you sat and waited for your food to arrive, noticing all of the pictures on the walls, the vintage clocks, and achievements the establishment had seemed to receive over the many years it’d been running. Through the order window, though, you noticed a boy your age, frying up your burger. 

Newt seemed to read your mind and follow your line of sight, because not long after you noticed the boy, he told you, “That’s Frypan.” 

“Hmm?”

“The cook, back there.” Newt explained. “His real name’s Siggy, but everyone calls him Fry or Frypan. Even his parents, and Mickey. Frypan’s Mickey’s grandson.”

You only nodded, waving at Frypan along with Newt when he caught sight of you and smiled politely. Once Frypan was done with your orders, he bagged them up and brought it over to you at the counter. 

“What’s up, Newt?”

“Hey, Fry,” Newt said, scratching at the back of his neck. “Things good?”

“Yep,” Frypan nodded, handing over the bag of takeout, before looking over to you. 

You smiled at him again and said, “I’m Y/n. Thomas’... step-sister? I think.”

Frypan laughed and nodded, his smile wider than before. “Nice to meet you, Y/n.”

“I think step-sister’s the right word,” Newt said. “Tommy told us about her, remember?”

“I remember,” Frypan nodded as he leant against the counter. “Said a lot about you when you guys would hang out and stuff. Didn’t you get him lost in Times Square once or something?”

You scoffed out a laugh. “I think he got that story mixed up. He was the one who got us lost. Dumbass thought he could get us around New York without a map because he’d been there a few times before. And he didn’t even go to Times Square any of those times, by the way.”

Both boys laughed at your retelling of the story as you smiled, watching Mickey place two to-go cups next to the bag of food. “There y’all go. I’ll see y’all tomorrow, okay?”

“Yeah, see you tomorrow, guys. See you later, Fry.” Newt nodded, waving goodbye before standing and grabbing the bag of food. 

You waved the pair goodbye happily as you grabbed the drinks and slid out of the stool, following Newt out the door, blinds clanking on the door behind you, and back into the car. The sky had darkened exponentially since you’d been inside, and the brief breeze you felt when you arrived had taken a more permanent residence in the air, cooling your skin. 

As Newt headed over to the school, staying on the main road, you snacked on fries from the bag that rested on your lap. A song filtered through the speakers, muffled by the static of a distant radio tower, and dim street lamps lit the way for you. You would’ve been perfectly content simply sitting in the car and driving around until curfew, but Newt had other plans. 

He parked in the school parking lot, in one of the spaces closest to the field. It was unusual to see the parking lot empty, to see the school devoid of light and students lingering around. You and Newt stepped out of the car, and you followed him as he rounded the back, opening the trunk and pulling a thin blanket from it before heading out to the field, blanket tucked under one arm, a milkshake in hand and the bag of food in the other. 

Soon, one milkshake became two, along with a heavy bag filled with food, and you ended up handling a minor juggling act while Newt laid out the blanket at the base of the willow tree he pointed out to you on the first day. When he was done, he took his milkshake and the bag of food from you, allowing you to sit next to him on the blanket while he sorted out the food. 

For a little while, there was nothing but the sound of the wildlife at night while you enjoyed your food together. This, however, gave your mind time to wind down several paths of thought, and it didn’t take you long to put your burger back in its wrapper and face the blond to your left. 

“Why doesn’t Sonya have an accent?”

“What?” Newt asked, still chewing his food. 

“You have an accent.” You stated. “And Sonya’s only a year younger than you, so she should have an accent, too, right? But she doesn’t, so, why not?”

Newt swallowed his food, took a sip of his milkshake, and cleared his throat before speaking. “We moved here from London when we were pretty young. I was eight, and Sonya was almost seven. Small town people can be quite… harsh, but I didn’t quite mind what the kids in school were saying about how we talked. Sonya did, though. I guess kids in her grade were harsher toward her. Anyway, she started to train her voice to sound American, and now she doesn’t have an accent.” 

All you could think of to respond was nod. It seemed like a simple enough answer, despite how heartbreaking it really was, and so you left it at that and went back to eating your burger. No more conversation occurred between the two of you until you were cramming the empty wrappers and fry containers into the takeout bag. 

“Why’s your dad marrying Maggie?” 

Confused, your face scrunched as you looked at Newt. 

“You got to ask a question, so now I’m asking one.” Newt shrugged. “So, why’s your dad marrying Maggie?” After a moment, it seemed like Newt realized what kind of question he’d asked. “If you don’t want to answer, you don’t have to. I’m just curious.”

“No, no it’s fine.” You assured him, taking a deep breath. “It’s not his first marriage, or anything like that. And my mom wasn’t some horrible, evil woman he was just dying to get away from, either. He loved her. A lot. They met when they were teenagers and everything. She was a ballerina. A really beautiful one, too.” You explained. “When I was about seven, though, she got diagnosed with breast cancer. I can barely remember it anymore, but I know she was a great mom, and a great wife. She died when I was ten. Maggie’s the first woman I’ve met that’s been able to make my dad laugh like my mom used to.” 

Newt stayed silent for a few moments, the heavy atmosphere you brought to the conversation settling in your chests. He picked at a loose thread in the blanket before speaking. “I wish my mum could find someone like that.”

“Why?” You asked, your voice soft. “What happened to your dad?”

“He’s an asshole,” Newt snapped, tilting his head all the way back to look at the pieces of sky that poked through the leaves, leaning on his elbows for support. “He moved us halfway across the world, away from my mum’s family, away from her whole bloody life, for a job offer, only to quit and chase some bleach blonde woman who’s half his age to Florida and mail my mum divorce papers. He didn’t even have the decency to sign them in person.”

The anger and resentment Newt held for his father was clear in his tone, rolling off his words in harsh waves. 

Hesitantly, you placed a hand over Newt’s twisting your body to fully face him. “You’re right, Newt. Your dad is an asshole. And he missed out on watching you grow up, on seeing you turn into one of the kindest, most caring people I’ve ever met. But that just means that you didn’t need him to be the person you are today.”

Though Newt’s eyes remained on the sky, you could see tears gathering along his waterline, the gleam of the stars reflecting within them. For a moment, you both stayed that way, until Newt shifted and pulled your body into his, arms wrapping around your neck as he gripped you in a tight hug. You wrapped your arms around his torso, pulling him a little closer. The heavy atmosphere felt a little lighter, now, and you did, too, knowing that something between you and Newt had shifted, that you knew each other better now. 

After the mood lifted, you both finished your drinks and laid back on the thin, cold blanket, hands on your stomachs as you talked and looked at the sky through the drooping curtains of the willow tree’s leaves.

series masterlist: @heliads @ghostofscarley @badbatch-simp24 @virginia-peters @third-broparcelicito @lamolaine (open!)

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

[luvieshifts]

the maze runner maze diversity ideas directly inspired by this @petrichor-idyllic post!!

ive literally been thinking about it nonstop since omg okay BASICALLY its confirmed in the scorch trials movie that there are a bunch of other mazes aside from the glade and group b. since these other mazes are never touched on there are one million and one ways people could go with them in fanfiction in terms of layout, weather conditions, etc. so i wanted to share some!

petri had tons of great ideas (go follow them right NEOW) and im just here to expand on them. 4 the sake of simplicity im gonna call the “gladers” subjects/mazers since we dont really know what theyd call themselves, and im gonna call the “glade” the centre. i am gonna keep calling new kids greenies bc i think its a funny little name + DISCLAIMER i have not read the books and i also do not have the time or energy to rewatch the movies so if any information is off my bad fr

NOT PROOFREAD

MONSTER IDEAS

a maze with birdbox style monsters so they have to navigate the maze blindfolded

a maze where the monsters are deathly afraid of some sort of metal that wicked wont send them enough of to make clothes or armor (at least not enough to keep every mazer safe) so all the people are heavily pierced. greenies come up piercingless and have to sit in the piercing hut (where they keep the metal) for however long it takes them to let the maze piercers do their job because absolutely no shot are they letting any dumbass teenager go anywhere with their rare life saving metal without it being fused to their bodies. the maze record for time a greenie has spent in the piercing hut is 3 full days and the less time you spend in there when you first arrive the more street cred you get

^ the piercer would probably be the maze leader, im picturing someone who at the beginning was the only person that could talk greenies into getting the piercing over n done with and as more came up the maze just filled with people that would only listen to the one person they trusted enough to pierce them straight out of the box.

a maze with underground monsters. you drop something heavy enough and something shoots out of the ground, jaws wide open. they have treestyle type houses, floating bridges connecting buildings. they dont have runner equivalents bc theyre working on building bridges through the maze and its like a no brainer that they cant go anywhere without a bridge. instead of “someone should try surviving the maze at night” its “we should climb the walls” and everyone thinks hes just as nuts

^theyd have a box but wouldnt it be fucking funny if their greenies just fell out of the sky?? they have a little platform right underneath where the greenies and supplies land (they call it ground zero) picturing wicked somehow forgetting to cushion the platform at first and patient zero falls out of the sky and dies on impact

a maze where the monsters arent giant teen eating beasts but deadly insects. one bite of that one and youll vomit up your internal organs, breathe in gas from that one and your entire body will be paralyzed. accidentally step on that one and your foot will swell to the size of a bowling ball and fucking explode. experiment with how your mazers cope with this - maybe everyone wears layers and layers of bee keeping style clothes outside and all the buildings are netted. do they have disinfecting rooms? do they have some sort of poison that takes the insects out? how to they distribute this poison since they cant just pierce it on like the metal maze?

a maze with the hunger games mutt type monster-mutations made out of fallen mazers

a maze where the monsters arent monsters or a threat at all but contain clues or keys thatll help the mazers get out and are notoriously impossible to catch

MAZE IDEAS

on the wiki page for group b it says their maze went vertical at one point - a maze that is completely vertical, their centre (creatively named The Hole) being like a tube just walled in by heaven high maze structures. you look up and at some point the walls give way to an abyss. most of the mazers have given up hope of getting out because it looks endless - or does it? nobody really entertains the idea that the top of The Wall is closer than they think, that the creators have put in a fake ceiling to fuck with them, but the people theyve sent up dont come back down and when the hole is quiet enough they can hear something alive up there and nobody can say for sure that their little village is any worse than what theyll find if they try to leave

hunger games quarter quell type maze where different sections of it have different monsters or obstacles. the sections with the easiest to bypass obstacles have the most complicated puzzle, the sections that are the easiest to navigate have obstacles 10x as deadly

PEOPLE IDEAS

a maze where 2 people come up in the box at a time (inspired by this thomas fic). theyd have names like box-mate or smth for whoever you come up in the box with (i.e thats jeff, he’s clints box-mate) and everyone is really close with their box-mate, platonically or otherwise. i feel like theres alot of cute potential for this idea, like an alby-equivalent talking to aggressive mazers like why dont you go find your box-mate and chill out. go cuddle or something. greenies often feeling weird about their connection w their box-mate (bc who wouldnt??) and long time mazers teasing them about it “oooooh somebodys making eyes at their booox-maaate muah muah muah”

unisex maze (although all these ideas can be unisex) where the number of boys and girls is slightly or very uneven at any given time. people have bets going around that time of the month every month about whether theyre getting a boy or a girl w things like chores and food being traded like currency. the bonfires on greenie day are just celebrations for the winning party

got this idea from petri but someone alone in a maze!!! just completely isolated for however long, not being expected to survive but making it out somehow. have you guys ever read an article or paper on the long term psychological effects of solitary confinement in prisons? of course itd be different but isolation is literally used as a torture method in some places. humans are not supposed to be so alone!! a lone mazer that sleeps by the thinnest part of the walls at night so they can hear the monsters, have some sort of connection to another living thing. a lone mazer that only survives their maze because they know their monsters like the back of their hand after spending endless nights well hidden in the maze just OBSERVING the creatures because it becomes a comfort to them, seeing something outside of themself move by its own free will. a lone mazer that never stops talking once theyre out of the maze because long silence makes them feel like theyre all alone again, a lone mazer that doesnt talk at all once theyre out of the maze because they cant stand the sound of their own voice anymore.

^ petri had the idea of an animal companion and i think that is a wonderful idea!! they have this fic where the reader had a dog and theyre really cute together. go full on disney princess & give your character a bird or a chameleon or a tiger if youre a jasmine guy. a dog or any predatory animal can conceivably help your character escape the maze - give your character a sloth or a koala or just a really lazy cat. give me a lone mazer whos animal companion is dead weight but they dont have the heart to leave them, who keeps their fat cat strapped to their chest like a baby as they fight for their life. 

person alone in a maze with a baby. ik this sounds so random but wicked wanting to see the effects of growing up in the maze so they send in a carer, someone that looks after the mazers before theyre sent in. the carer raises the kid angry at whoever has trapped their now adopted child in this torture chamber come to find out they used to be one of them

maze where the subjects are supposed to get injured in some way to force them to rely on one another. a subject being deafened by a banshee type monster, a subject getting a limb amputated by medjack equivalents after getting suddenly and suspisciously sick. they dont spend so much time mapping the maze as figuring out how to get all of them through to the very end because they quite literally cannot make it without every single mazer

a maze where the subjects keep their memories but theyve all been altered. some remember wicked as saviours providing shelter for them as orphaned children, others remember being restrained, poked and prodded, a vague feeling of grief and betrayal that they cant explain. others dont remember wicked at all and insist that the maze is a paradise compared to desert wastelands filled with zombie people and viral disease.

your mazers can react to this in any way shape or form. maybe factions/cliques of people with similar memories form. nobody wants a leader from a different group in charge of the entire maze so they dont have one, there not being any rules that apply to every group in the maze because nobody will listen to eachother. everyone thinks the ones that dont remember wicked are crazy and the anti-wicked group have the most reason to become violent, have been the most violent in the past so everyone thinks theyre psychos. it takes them longer than other groups to get out despite having memory because they all take over different parts of the maze and refuse to share information.

mazers that have access to technology. they can make things like recordings and audios but no way of connecting to the outside world and no information aside from what they put in themselves. they learn to program things and make robots/drones to navigate the maze for them, make intro videos for greenies so they dont have to deal with them. instead of track hoes and medjacks they have groups of people that work on different kinds of technology because theyve learnt to automate most of the stuff the gladers do by hand. some work on exploring the maze, some make weapons, some study the monster corpses theyve managed to get, etc etc.

CULTURE/TRADITION IDEAS

the different ways people commemorate dead mazers!! in the glade they cross out their names on the maze walls and in group Bs maze they like sculpt their faces into the ice. give me a maze that tattoos the names of their fallen, whos oldest mazers have the most ink so it kind of goes without saying that the more tattoos you have the more authority you have. greenies being able to tell clearly whos been around longer based on which names they have tattooed. give me a maze that mounts the weapons of the dead on a wall, a maze with a regular graveyard that the mazers visit on slow days

greenie events!!! give me greenie celebrations like the bonfire we see in the glade, parties or games, feasts to welcome newcomers. give me a maze where the arrival of a greenie is grim, one more mouth to feed, one more lost soul trapped. a maze where everything dims down around that time of the month because another person means another month theyve failed to get out. give me mazes that test their greenies to see if theyre of any use to the group because those that arent are dead weight. a maze that holds Greenie Trials, where you have to complete an obstacle course or survive a night in the maze or complete some obscure challenge and if you cant youre tossed to the monsters.

^bonus points for a gally-equivalent getting to say ominous shit like The Last One Didn’t Make It

TATTOO SUBGENRE

because i dont know what else to do with these

maze where wicked programmed the monsters to respond to some basic specific kind of symbol and the people have it tattooed in very visible places, painted on every hut and wall

maze where the monsters are deathly allergic to some sort of liquid so the subjects tattoo themselves with it

maze where you have to be incredibly light on your feet when navigating the maze so people tattoo maps on themselves.

GROUP B

i know im supposed to be talking about maze ideas not mentioned in canon but group b has so much potential their wiki says that group b doesnt have runners, they literally all just go out into the maze in a giant group, AND that their monsters are out day and night PLUS their maze is a frozen wasteland. i imagine any girls that arent strong enough to withstand everything are like pretty quickly weeded out and only the hardasses that adapted quickly enough were left omg the cultural norms that would form?? theyre all absolutely jacked and if a greenie dies nobody bats an eye cause tough shit. no introduction no transition period you come into the maze with us and dodge airborne monsters or you stay here and freeze to death. the creators do send them medical supplies but over time they start to notice the way the group interacts w eachother so they start sending less to see if they can push it even farther, make the girls have to ration their medical supplies. it works tenfold oh you broke your arm and you want a sling, aris?? rachel got her arm CHEWED OFF by a FLYING MUTANT PTERADACTDOL and didnt ask me for so much as a BANDAID

this is like evidenced on the wiki too multiple girls suggesting they just leave aris to freeze to death or get eaten by monsters in the maze because theyre SUSPISCIOUS of him?? like absolutely unprovoked too thomas had a stung glader accusing him of being at fault for the maze an unconscious girl who came at the wrong time who is apparently going to be the last greenie they ever recieve feverishly gasping his name just so much ammo for the gladers to toss him out and it takes the death of like half the glade and an insane gally to get him where aris was upon arrival. they literally punch aris square in the face immediately after they decide not to kill him bc “its the fastest way to remember your name” like how did you guys realise that??? "fastest way” so you admit there are other ways??? why are you giving all your greenies concussions

GEN

because i dont know where to put these

explore the concept of failed mazes. a desert maze where the subjects couldnt survive on the monthly supplies because they couldnt farm any food on their own because, well, desert. a maze where wicked did something like the memory altering maze, purposefully dividing them but they went too far and the mazers killed eachother off hunger games style

test mazes! have you ever wondered why the mazes operate the way they do? why do they send people up once a month? why are the mazers of all different ages? why not make the centre already stocked with food and buildings so the subjects can spend more time cracking the maze instead of learning how to grow crops?

a maze where they sent all the people up at once and without guidance from more experienced subjects they pretty quickly killed themselves off. a maze where the subjects were too young and werent organising themselves or mapping the maze fast enough, a maze where the subjects were too old and lost hope faster and easier. a maze where the mazers had everything they needed upon arrival and nobody wanted to leave.

AND MANY MORE!!!

IN conclusion make ur own mazes people!!!!! get creative w it there are so many different directions you can take it in!! pls feel free to use any ideas thats what theyre here for i dont need credit but PLEASE tag me id love to see anything that comes from this nonsense!!! nd lmk if anybody wants a pt2 because i had a million half baked ideas that didnt make the cut i am filled to the brim with Thoughts

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