Gladers - Tumblr Posts

The Maze Runner (2014)

My sons

The Shadow In Your Eyes

The Shadow In Your Eyes (Newt x Reader)

Word Count: 1367 words (Finally a long one)

Warnings: illness, madness/insanity, hints at murder, violence, death, (once again my having no idea what to put here)

Summary: the flare is spreading through Newt quicker than you could ever have imagined, it won’t be long before the boy you loved is lost forever.

you cannot even bring yourself to look at him, for, if you did, you would not see the smiling, brown eyed boy you love, but a pale, dark vein streaked, stranger.

the other gladers seemed to be keeping their distance too, not out of fear or spite, but merely because watching someone you love, slowly die, and you can do nothing but watch, is too hard.

you take a deep breath and move to sit beside Newt, causing many turned heads. he looks sideways at you, causing you to shift away from him in discomfort.

“Don’t worry, I don’t bite”. his voice comes out harsher than you knew it would if he wasn’t infected. you still can’t meet his eyes, as though scared you will see madness, or perhaps hatred, staring back at you.

the boys are looking up now, eyes fixed on you and Newt, not speaking. Newt looks around, realises everyone is staring and stands up.

he limps out of the room, and after a moment’s hesitation, you follow him.

you peep your head around the frame of the door, to see Newt sitting cross legged, his chin in his hands.

“What do you want”. his voice comes out hoarse yet without that harsh tone. you decide it’s safe to move closer, and rest a hand on his shoulder, “it’s going to be ok”

he shoved your hand away, “it’s not going to be bloody ok, lying to yourself isn’t going fix this, fix me. I’m getting worse y/n, I can feel it.

“Newt, listen to me”

“no! you listen to me,” he was shouting now “do you really think that me knowing you all, will stop me from killing you”

“Newt-“ you reach out your arm to him.

“Get away from me!” his eyes blaze with a maddened anger as he shoves you, hard, sending you sprawling across the floor.

horror crosses Newt’s face as he sees what he’s done, he rushes towards you but you back away, drawing your knees up to your chin, just as Minho and Thomas ran into the room.

“we heard you shouting Newt and-“ Minho breaks off as he sees you sitting huddled in a corner on the floor, with Newt, standing near you, a hand over his mouth.

Minho and Thomas hurry towards you, standing between your curled up body and Newt. “Minho, Thomas, what are you doing?”, Newt says in a shaky voice.

“What we have to” Thomas looks grimly at his friend. Minho nods at him, lifts you into his arms, and Thomas keeps his eyes on Newt as you are carried from the room.

“are you alright”. Minho begins checking you for injuries. you nod, a little shakily, still shocked and speechless.

the boy looks at you, “it’s not a very nice experience, the flare”. you shake your head vigorously. “me and Thomas will talk to Newt, don’t worry, we won’t let it happen again”

Thomas and Newt enter the room at that moment, Thomas grim faced and Newt still shaken, approaching you slowly. you move backwards, afraid and hurt flashes in Newt’s dark eyes before he turns away.

you sit between Thomas and Minho, who are whispering to each other, and stare at your hands.

whenever you glance up, which was next to never, Newt sat alone, shivering slightly, his chin resting on his knees.

evidently, the other graders had either been told, or had heard, you and Newt’s fight, the latter seeming more likely. all the boys had crowded on one side of the room, as though trying to put as much distance between themselves and the sandy haired boy.

he fiddled with his fingerless gloves, the thin cotton going nothing to hide the dark veins snaking up them. it was clear to everyone, that Newt was not the same Newt as they knew from the Glade.

the stranger was harsher, colder, and had broken a whispered promise you had heard too many times to count. “I promise I will never hurt you y/n”

but this was not the Newt that made those promises. this was not the Newt that held you as you wept for Chuck. not the Newt that would hug you when he saw you return from the maze. not the Newt who would hold you when the nightmares plagued your sleep.

not the Newt that decorated your hair with chains of daisies. the Newt that would laugh when you weaved flowers through his hair. not the Newt that would let you lie of his lap, pointing out the pretty shadows the leaves cast. the Newt that would stroke your hair until he heard your breathing go heavy.

that Newt was gone now. to a place you would never reach him again.

it made your heart break to see the boy that would always comfort you, the kind track hoe, the friend that would bring you baskets of strawberries, decorated with flowers, sitting their, blank eyed, staring at his thin fingers.

you wanted to move forward to comfort him, yet even if Minho or Thomas, or heck even Newt himself, let you, it was not a good idea.

looking at his lost, pale face, it seemed hard to realise that this, blank, vacant youth, was the same smiling sandy haired boy from the glade.

the Flare had broken his mind, worse than the fall had broken his leg.

night had fallen and the boys were laying down, using packs to prop up their heads and each others heat to warm them.

your eyes watched the lonely boy curl up by himself, wrapping his hands around his knees. you felt your eyes close, but you cannot sleep. after a moment or maybe it was hours, the breathing around you grows steady and you believe everyone is asleep. that was before movement caught your eye.

you watch through your eyelashes as the dark shape of Newt shifts slowly towards you, looking left and right to make sure that others were indeed asleep.

your stomach sinks with fear and apprehension as he reaches out a hand towards you. but instead of doing the many things that race each other through your mind, he brushes a stray hair from your eyes, gently.

not moving you watching through squinted eyelids as he strokes your hair with his thumb, his eyes, even in the dark, glazed in sadness.

you relax, slightly, beginning to drift off to sleep when a loud creak makes you jump, Newt’s head snaps around, and the boys jerk awake, Thomas and Minho already on their feet.

the blonde boy tries to scurry back to his corner, unnoticed, but Thomas grabs his ankle and holds him fast.

“what were you doing to y/n” he demands

“nothing. get off of me” Newt struggles to free his leg from his friend’s grip but to no avail.

“answer me. you expect us to trust you around her after today?”

Newt’s face lost all the gentleness of a few minutes ago, and is shadowed by anger. “get off of me” he screams, making the other boys jump. he lunges for Thomas only to be dragged down by Minho and a few other gladers who hold him to the ground.

“I’m not going to ask you again” Thomas looks at Newt seriously.

“let go. let go. let go.” his voice sounds almost childlike, nothing like his own. it was as though someone else were speaking for Newt.

Thomas flattens his hand, and brings it down hard on the boy’s injured leg. he screams so loudly you’re surprised you don’t hear the shattering of glass.

Newt stops struggling, his breath ragged, looking almost on the verge of tears. but you knew that Newt wouldn’t cry, no matter how sick or shucked up in the head he was.

Thomas and Minho take advantage of this and drag him into a side room, slamming the door. they both look at each other, pained expressions on their faces.

they tell everyone to get some sleep, but they all know none of them will. not with the cracked screams and thumps coming from the side room.

Just Another Glader—Newt

Pairing: Next x fem!reader

Trigger warning: Alcohol, drunk Newt, jealous Newt 

Fandom: The Maze Runner

Genre: Non specific 

Requested: No

Word count: 1163

Summary: Newt is struggling to admit to Y/n that he has feelings for her, so on bonfire night he decides to get a little bit of help.

Newt sometimes wondered why he was appointed second in command. It's not that he didn't like it. Sure, it was a lot of responsibility having to help run The Glade, but that wasn't something he couldn't handle, and unbeknownst to him he was the glue of the Glade. He wondered because he didn't view himself as anything particularly special. Why not Gally, or Minho? Sure they were both hotheads, but they could get people to rally. Of course Newt didn't view himself as anything lesser, he wasn't insecure, just didn't quite see himself as special. He was equal to everyone in his mind. Just another Glader.

And unfortunately, when you're pinning after the only girl in The Glade, being "just another Glader" doesn't help you much. And that was another thought Newt ranggled with on the daily.

Y/n. The perfect balance kind, quirky and mischievous, and Newt wasn't the only one after her, not by a long shot. At first when people started to proclaim their quote unquote, "undying love" for her, she turned them away gently telling them they were very kind, but she didn't feel the same. But after the first half dozen she started to get impatient. If any boy (besides maybe Newt, Minho, Chuck, Alby or Thomas) got anywhere near her she sent them away with a withering glare, and continued doing what she was doing, and reasonably so.

Newt and Y/n were friends, so at least he knew she cared for him, just not in the way he wanted her to. Apparently, Minho had had enough of watching Newt stare at her while she worked, or ate, or talked, or really anything, Newt could have watched her for hours, but Minho took the snap.

Minho was eating dinner with Newt and telling him about the maze, various patterns they'd already been over dozens of times before, both were starting to loose hope about ever getting out, much to Alby's chagrin, but Minho went over it with Newt every day anyways. Or Minho was trying to. "So we ran section 8 today, and Thomas seems to be adapting pretty quick— Newt, are listening to me?"

Newt was staring at Y/n as she chatted amiably with Chuck and Thomas. She laughed at something Chuck said and Thomas gave ruffled her hair with a fond smile. Despite the brother sister type of relationship they seemed to have, Newt felt jealous cloud his vision quick as quicksilver.

As Y/n busied herself swatting Thomas's hand away, Newt busied himself clenching his fists and sending Thomas a cool look. Minho slammed his fork down, causing Newt to snap out of his daze, and a few boys to raise and eyebrow at the keeper of the runners.

"Alright that's it, shuckface! If you don't tell the shebean soon, I'll tell her myself. If you're gonna be pissed at Thomas, it better be for a reason better than this." he said.

Newt looked at Minho warily, knowing full well what he meant. "Tell her what exactly?" he asked with feeble hope that Minho meant something else.

"You know very well what. I'm tired of you gazing at her like she's the shuck sunset while I'm trying to talk to you." Minho snapped, crumpling Newt's hopes like a ball of paper. Newt sighed, knowing he was probably right. "Besides, if you don't make a move soon, Thomas will. And then where will you be?"

Newt scowled, teeth grinding together audibly. "You think Tommy likes her?"

Minho scoffed, if he would have had more hair he would have flipped it. "Yeah, Thomas and every other guy in this shuck place. Do something soon, or I will."

***

As it turns out, Newt did find a way to muster up the courage. Or alcohol dosed Newt did. It was bonfire night, meaning Gally was in an okay-ish mood, which meant Gally's special drink. No one knew what was in it, just that it made them feel "alive". Newt was never one to want to get wasted, but he figured if he was going to spit out how he felt to Y/n, he might as well not remember her rejection in the morning.

"Bottoms up." he muttered too himself, gulping down some of Gally's drink.

Y/n sat on a log beside a clearly intoxicated Minho. Normally, she could put up with Minho and his antics, but when he got drunk he got a little too flirty for her taste.

"Hey Y/n, I think something's wrong with my bed," Minho shrieked out a giggle like an intoxicated hyena. "You aren't in it."

Y/n thunked Minho on the head. "Go bother Thomas, you twat." she said with an eye roll.

Minho skipped off in his drunk stupor, but was quickly replaced by someone else. Newt slung an arm around the girl and sent her a grin.

"'Ello, love." he slurred. "You had some of Gally's drink yet?"

Y/n groaned, hand immediately flying up to pinch the bridge of her nose in frustration. How had someone gotten Newt drunk? He never drank, not once in the two years she'd known him. "Can't say I have." she said. "Have you?"

Newt held his fingers very close together for the girl to see. "Maybe a teeny bit." He giggled.

She stood up quickly, and offered the lanky blond her hand. "Come on, let's get you to bed."

Newt took her hand and stumbled after her towards the homestead. Most Gladers slept in hammocks, but being second in command has the occasional benefit, such as a room in the homestead, and staying away from the cult of Gladers who enjoyed practicing spirit summoning rituals (God knows where they'd learned them) in the dead of night.

After bumping into several walls, and tripping over multiple stairs, a severely exasperated Y/n managed to haul Newt into his bedroom.

"Go to sleep, Newt. You'll feel better in the morning." That was a lie. The only thing he would have in the morning was a pounding headache and a world that appeared to look like a giant pinwheel of death, but she needed to convince him to close his eyes for at least a few hours. A pout appeared on Newt's face as Y/n moved for the door.

"Don't gooooooo." he whined, a childish look of abandonment crossing his morose face.

"Alright." Y/n murmured. She sat down on the floor next to his bed, and after some convincing, got Newt to try and fall asleep. She sat in silence for a few minutes. After a solid forty five minutes or so, she assumed he was asleep, and quietly crept towards the door, but before she could slip through the door and back to her hammock, the girl heard a quiet whisper waltz across broken silence.

"I love you" murmured from Newt. Y/n smiled softly at his now sleeping form.

"I love you too, Newt."

Gally, running away from a kiss. I might DIE!" Minho howled with laughter, his fist pounding the table.

Newt looked at him distastefully. "What happened after?"

"Nothing! He's just been working on the new space for Frypan. He didn't even eat lunch with the rest of us." Truth be told, lunch had been slightly peaceful with the other builders without Gally around. A healthy amount of teasing took place, courtesy of Peter telling what little he had seen to what felt like every boy in the glade. But none of it was with ill intent, and I shot smartmouth things back at them just as easily.

"Maybe you should talk to him.." Newt suggested wisely, as though I hadn't thought of that.

"What would I even say to him though? Like 'hey Gally, things have been weird since you finger-fucked me in the tool shed-" Minho spit water all over the table when I said that, but I pressed on "and now you've kissed me in the middle of our screaming match. Are you feeling okay?' Cause that will go over well. I don't know what he wants from me."

Newt seemed at a loss for words, his eyes darting slightly back and forth as though trying to process. Minho on the other hand, was recovering from his outburst. He wiped a hand over his mouth, "don't say none of that. Just go in there and suck his dick. That's all you have to do for any guy here to straighten out."

"Shut up Minho. Seriously." I rolled my eyes, unsuccessfully holding back a smile. He would say something like that. That only seemed to encourage him.

"Hey I'm serious. What is he going to say? No F/N, don't put my dick in your mouth, I don't like that. Come ON."

"Somehow, I don't think that's going to solve all our problems."

From Chapter 5 of These Hands Were Made For Building on A03