maze runner imagines

yet another blog of maze runner imagines; requests are CLOSED ; match-ups are CLOSED

[imagines-tmr]

anyone still reading this blog? i’d love to start writing for the maze runner again (after the longest hiatus ever), but only if you guys are still interested!

thank you to all those who left me kind messages throughout my break. i appreciate every single one of you ❤️

[imagines-tmr]

don’t worry, guys, i haven’t forgotten about the match-ups. i’ll leave the match-up requests open a little more and then get started on them again!

[imagines-tmr]

Heyy, match up? i'm a blondie and a bit small but absolute gorgeous. But im strong and have an ability to keep people in line, especially boys. I convince people in heartbeat, I kinda have that effect. Im a hell of a smart leader. I love the ones who makes me laugh. I love kids so much. And please dont pick me newt just bc im blondie:)

i’d pair you up with gally.

gally is a sucker for a pretty face, it’s as simple as that. he’d get to know you only after his initial infatuation would wear off, after which he’d never leave your side in fear of the other gladers somehow winning you over instead of him. it’d be annoying at first, but he really wouldn’t mean any harm. he’d just want to make sure you liked him and only him (because he’s insecure).

you’d go well with gally because he’d be one of the few people you wouldn’t be able to charm. not that he wouldn’t be hooked on you, but he’s stubborn and it would take a whole lot of effort to try and get him to do what you want him to. it’d pave the way for some insane chemistry and a lot of sexual tension.

also, gally can be pretty funny. stupid, but funny. he’d make sure to be extra boisterous and snarky to the other gladers when you’re around, just to elicit a reaction out of you. 

[imagines-tmr]

Hello there. May I request a glader match-up for my twin sister? She's smart, queen of sarcasm & sass, she's understanding, open-minded, loyal, quick to protect those she cares about in a mature manner while still being respectful & polite though there may be a thin underlining sarcasm of 'I dare you', she's also 5ft 2in, dark brown hair (just off the shoulder w/ a wave), hazel eyes, & ready to use humor & creativity. She's an artist, loves to read. She's good at analyzing people. Thank you. :)

i think your sister would be great with newt.

i originally thought she might go great with minho because of her sarcasm, but her being understanding and open-minded about situations is exactly up newt’s alley. newt is without a doubt the wisest of the gladers, and he doesn’t rush his judgement or offer it without a strong reason. he and your sister would probably never have full-blown arguments because they’d literally just talk everything out in a healthy and productive way.

in his downtime, newt would probably want nothing more than to curl up with a good book and with your sister by his side. the two of them could read in silence, and maybe she could even draw/doodle beside him. the point is that these quiet moments together would mean the world to him. after a lifetime’s worth of stress from WICKED and the maze, the thing newt would want most is a nice and easy life with someone he loves beside him.

also, he’d sometimes tease her about her height, but very, very lovingly

[imagines-tmr]

Hi, I would like to participate in the match-ups ❤ so I'm like 5'6 with short wavy brown hair, Blue eyes, somewhere between slim and thicc 🙈 I'm a bookworm, I like to study and do art (painting, drawing, crafting). I always try to work out a bit, currently I picked up jogging (still a beginner, tho). I'm ambitious, optimistic, kinda introverted, but with the right people I like to have a lot of laughs, I philosophize a lot and try to see the good in people. Hope that is enough 🙈❤ tysm 💕💕💕💕

i’d pair you up with thomas.

you sound very much like an idealist and that’s pretty much exactly what thomas is. the two of you having the same approach to life would make your relationship sail very smoothly for the most part. there wouldn’t be too much clashing or too many differences -- you guys would have a foundation that’s just right.

thomas would do everything he could with you; he’d run with you and try to help you slowly get better, he’d read with you and talk about his favourite characters, and even when he wouldn’t be able to join in (like when you do your art), he’d still be there, even if just physically.

also, if you ever get a drowsy, sleep-deprived thomas on your hands, you’d better brace yourself for his philosophizing. he wouldn’t make sense half the time but it’d be cute and he’d end up saying dumb stuff you could probably use to tease him later. much, much later.

[imagines-tmr]

Hi I heard that you were doing match ups again!! I’m, 176 cm and I have light blue eyes with dark blonde shoulder length hair. I would say I’m pretty funny, honest, kind and trustworthy!!! Love your blog sooo muuuchhhh!!💕💕💕💕💓💓

ahhh thank you so much ❤️❤️

i’d pair you up with minho.

he’d really appreciate your sense of humour, especially since he’s the kind of person to make snarky remarks about everything. he’d need someone who can take a joke without getting offended by it, because we all know he can take things too far sometimes.

minho tends to put up a front most of the time but after being tortured by WICKED and having to deal with the stress of the maze, he’d really appreciate being able to talk to you about how he feels and what’s bothering him. once he deems you trustworthy, he’d let all his emotions flood out, so you being kind enough to listen to him even when he’d stop making sense would mean the world to him.

he’d also really dig the whole “tall and blonde” thing but it wouldn’t be because you’d remind him of newt, no, not at all

[imagines-tmr]

match-ups?

to celebrate the return of this blog, i thought it would be cool to do match-ups again. you guys seemed to really like it last time and it can maybe get me in the swing of writing again.

like last time, please send in a physical/personality description of yourself, and i’ll do my best to match you up with a glader. i don’t know how long i’ll keep requests open, so send them in as soon as possible!

thank you to everyone who stuck by me during my super long hiatus. it really means a lot to me and i’m super happy to be part of this fandom ❤️

[imagines-tmr]

imagine #25

character - Minho

words - 1710

warnings - n/a

description - AU where you’re the only female member of the Royal Guard and Prince Minho likes you.

a/n - requested anonymously; this is my first time trying to write a maze runner au, so it took some effort to come up with a decent foundation for the request. this is like a modern royal au, with all the technology of the maze runner universe, except there’s a royal hierarchy. also, this is super long omg i’m so sorry

Working for the Royal Guard was not as bad as people made it out to be. It seemed to be a common understanding between anyone working for the Palace that being a member of the Royal Guard was the least favourable job one could be assigned, despite the high pay. There were many things you’ve heard guards complain about: the odd, numerous hours; the constant austerity; the solitude; and above all, the Prince. Every single one of these complaints seemed unwarranted to you — except the latter.

Prince Minho could be insufferable at times. He was handsome, without a doubt, and incredibly intelligent — there was no way he would have been chosen as the Heir had he not been. Out of the few selected candidates, he’d been the only one to show all the qualities of a future King of the Glade. That wasn’t the problem.

The problem was that he had it out for you and you didn’t know why. You were a good soldier, having advanced in your ranks faster than most. Perhaps you shouldn’t have been so competent at your job. Maybe then you wouldn’t have been assigned to protect the Prince and could have saved yourself from Minho’s constant tormenting.

He would always try to get you alone, teasing you endlessly and doing everything possible to get under your skin. He always seemed to get such a kick out of it. It was a personal goal of his to get you flustered whenever he could. It would have been fine if he were anyone else — you might even have indulged him — but he was the Prince and you were anything but royalty.

You were situated at your post, outside the doors to his private parlour, one of the two guards on duty. Another soldier, Gally, was on shift with you. The two of you hadn’t exactly gotten along when you’d first gotten promoted; he’d thought of you as weak simply because you were a girl. But after an attack in the dead of night by several Cranks during which you’d single-handedly taken out every assailant, Gally’s level of respect for you grew instantaneously.

Unfortunately, that had also been the incident that had drawn Minho’s attention to you.

“What time is it?” you asked, trying your best to stifle a yawn.

Gally glanced swiftly at his watch and then repositioned his hands behind his back in a stiff stance. “Two-thirty,” he replied. “Half-an-hour left, and then we’re good.”

You hated being scheduled to work nights but it made sense. Crank attacks didn’t happen during the day.

“What are they even doing?” you continued, jerking your chin towards the parlour. “They’ve been in there for hours.”

“No shucking clue,” he shrugged. “Probably trying to map out the Scorch. The recon team came back this afternoon.”

You nodded, though your understanding of the kingdom’s dynamics were limited. Everything was on a need-to-know basis and apparently, this was not something you’d ever needed to know.

A few minutes later, the parlour’s metal doors slid open with a hiss and two boys walked out, a brunet and a blond, the latter sporting a subtle limp. You recognized them as Minho’s advisors, Thomas and Newt. They were clad in black like most of the Palace staff were, with dark circles adorning their under-eyes.

“Minho wants to see you,” Newt said, his accent thick with fatigue.

As the boys disappeared down the fluorescently lit hallway, Gally unsuccessfully tried to hide his snicker.

“Duty calls, shank,” he teased.

“Slim it,” you muttered. Drawing in a deep breath, you entered the parlour, the metal doors sliding shut behind you.

Minho didn’t adhere to the all-black dress code. Instead, he wore grey jeans and a dark blue button-down, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up to expose toned forearms. It wasn’t the first time you’d seen them but you were still taken aback by how attractive they looked — how attractive he looked. He was pouring over some hand-drawn maps at a round metal table, a pencil in his hand. He, too, had dark circles under his eyes.

You cleared your throat to announce your arrival, though you knew very well he was already aware of your presence. He was always aware of you.

“(Y/N),” he greeted, his face lighting up with a cheeky grin. “Wow, sleep deprivation looks really good on you.”

You smiled through tight lips, furiously thinking about the glorious paycheck that was awaiting the end of your shift.

“Likewise,” you said. “So, how come you aren’t sleeping?”

“Oh, you know,” he shrugged. “Royal duties.”

“You’re going to overwork yourself to death.”

Minho’s grin widened. “Does that mean you care about me, (Y/N)?” He tossed his pencil onto the table and moved closer.

You struggled to keep your voice even. “No, it’s just that if you die on my shift, I’m going to have to do a lot of paperwork.”

He rolled his eyes and motioned to a chair by the table. “Make yourself at home,” he said. The idea seemed so out of reach to you — the Palace would never be your home. Sure, you slept in the bunkers like every other guard, but there was nothing homey about it. It wasn’t a place where you could ever put down roots.

Nevertheless, you took a seat. It wasn’t as comfortable as you’d imagined it would be, which surprised you; you thought the Prince would have a more comfortable environment than he did.

The more you looked around the parlour, the more you realized that it was the wrong word to call it.  A parlour was supposed to be opulent and inviting. Minho’s was grey and dark and unwelcoming, with the same fluorescent light fixtures as in the corridor outside. There was no personality to it — nothing that screamed Minho — and was clinically void of non-essentials. Back in the day, future kings would be living in lush and opulent castles with ornate wallpapers and chandeliers and mounds of colour, not this bunker they had the audacity to call the Palace.

“Relax, sunshine,” he said. “You’re so stiff all the time. Don’t worry, I’m not gonna let any Cranks break in here and hurt you.”

You frowned and scoffed. “Oh, please. Big help you were last time. Yelling that you were going to, quote, kick their shucking ass, is not much of an achievement.”

It was easy to be informal around him; he didn’t enforce his title as a Royal the way you’d seen previous leaders do. He took the requirements of his job seriously but not the reverence. 

“Well, if I did all the work, you would be out of a job,” he joked.

“And what a shame that would be.”

You hadn’t meant to come across as bitter, but there was a flicker of hurt on Minho’s face.

“You don’t have to keep guarding me,” he said, sharply. “If you really don’t like it, I’ll have them assign you somewhere else, with the same pay-grade.”

The offer was tempting. It would probably mean no more odd hours, no more having to deal with randomly orchestrated attacks, and you’d still get the same financial compensation. But the thought of not having to deal with Minho made you uneasy. He couldn’t be right, could he? Did you actually care about him?

“I’m alright,” you said, lowering your gaze.

Minho’s smile came back at full force. “I knew it. I knew you liked me.”

“I don’t—”

“Yeah, right.” He swatted the air dismissively. “That’s okay. It’ll be our little secret. No one has to know you have a crush on me.”

A spasm of panic bubbled in your chest. A crush? Your first instinct was to deny it. You were a soldier. You were unimportant in the hierarchy of the Glade, just a pawn, albeit a well-paid one, that was ready to lay their life down on the line to keep the peace. While you weren’t prohibited from starting a family or settling down, the last person you could ever do that with was the Prince.

Minho would probably end up marrying someone like Teresa, the pretty brunette ambassador you sometimes saw at council meetings — someone with a political relation to the Glade. Definitely not someone like you. The only role you had in his life was to protect him with yours.

“It’s not professional for me to talk about this,” you said, hoping he’d drop the subject. He didn’t.

“So you don’t deny it,” he noted. Minho braced himself on the armrests of your chair, his face awfully close to yours. The faint scent of his cologne was intoxicating.

“Minho, please,” you whispered, though you weren’t sure what you were begging him for.

He feigned innocence. “Please what?”

“Stop playing with me,” you said. “At the end of the day, you’re a Prince and I’m just a guard.”

“It’s just a political title,” he replied. “It only governs what I do for the Glade, not what I do for myself.”

“So what are you saying?”

“You can’t be this shucking oblivious.” Minho shook his head. “Come on, (Y/N), you’re smart. You wouldn’t be here if you weren’t. You can figure it out.”

The thing was, you knew exactly what he was hinting at, but you didn’t want to let yourself believe in the possibility of a future together.

“I—” Your breath faltered as Minho closed the distance between you, his mouth feverish on yours. He tasted like a mistake, all sweet and warm and beautiful, one you were suddenly very ready to pay for. When he moved away to look at you, there was an affection in his eyes that you swore no one else had held for you.

“I’ve been shucked and gone to heaven,” he laughed. “Was that as good for you as it was for me?”

With newfound confidence in your veins, you straightened and looked him dead in the eye. “I think we need to do that again to find out,” you answered. Minho grinned in reply and kissed you again.

When three o’clock rolled around and your shift came to an end, you didn’t leave the parlour like you were supposed to. In fact, you didn’t leave at all.

Not until morning.

[imagines-tmr]

imagine #24

character - Minho

words - 1354

warnings - slightly steamy content

description - Final part of this imagine

a/n - this was requested by literally everyone and it’s 10000 years overdue but thanks for sticking by!

You had no right to complain about Minho giving you the same treatment you’d given him. He was completely justified in retaliating and not putting up endlessly with your teasing, but the worst part of it all was just how much of an effect it had on you. It’d been fun while you’d been in control of the situation, but Minho having you at his mercy made the entirety of your body ache in ways you hadn’t even imagined possible. It bothered you that you craved him as much as you did because unless you admitted to it first, he wouldn’t stop playing this cat-and-mouse game with you, and the last thing you needed was to stroke his ego some more.

The few days that followed your last encounter in the pantry were agonizing. It was an unspoken understanding between the two of you that it was now your move. You had to play your cards right if you wanted to get a reaction out of him but between your job in the kitchen and his job as a Runner, there were very few opportune moments for you to do so.

Minho didn’t seek you out either, which you knew must have been hard on his part as well. Despite everything, you were still his best friend and you could tell he was making an applaudable effort to avoid coming to you before you came to him. He’d even stopped eating dinner in the kitchen and had resorted to joining the other Runners at a table outside instead, something that did not go unnoticed by Frypan.

“Is everything okay?” he asked one day as the two of you were getting ready to serve lunch. “Between you and Minho, I mean.”

“Yeah,” you assured him. “He’s just distracted, that’s all.”

It wasn’t a lie either. Minho was probably on edge, waiting impatiently for you to do something – anything.

That evening, you decided that enough was enough. You’d noticed that Minho had started spending more time in the Map Room after his runs, probably as an excuse to get out of seeing you before dinner. He’d be the only one there, surrounded by drawings and papers, simmering in his own thoughts. It was perfect; there wouldn’t be a soul around to interrupt you.

As you pushed open the door to the Map Room and stepped inside, Minho’s head turned to look at you. His body tensed as you shut the door behind you.

“Hey,” you greeted. “Long day in the Maze?”

Minho nodded, jerking his chin towards the drawing he’d been trying to finish. “Yeah, I just need to get these done tonight,” he said, almost dismissively. It didn’t discourage you, however. You moved closer to him, pressing yourself against his arm as you craned your neck to get a better look.

“Huh, that’s interesting,” you noted, furrowing your brows in mock-concentration. “This part looks very similar to this one.”

Minho looked like he was suppressing a smile. He glanced down at you and bit the inside of his lower lip, almost as if trying to decide whether to play along or not. “Yeah? You want a closer look?” He stepped around you, trapping you right between himself and the table, bracing his arms on either side of you. You could feel his nose brushing against your hair, wisps of his breath tickling your neck, and you suddenly felt the urge to give in right then and there and just kiss the living hell out of him. Stupid Minho. He was making this incredibly hard on you on purpose.

Focus, you told yourself.

You arched further against him, your back moulding perfectly into his chest. Minho let out the smallest of groans, and he moved his hand up to brush your hair off to the side, fully exposing the warmth of your neck to him. You shuddered as he grazed his lips against your skin; it was a dirty move, making you weak under his touch like that.

“By the way, dinner’s ready,” you said. Minho hummed in reply, his left hand sneaking up underneath your shirt and resting gently on your waist.

“I’m not hungry,” he said. Then he chuckled, wrapping both his arms around you. “Well, not for food, anyway.”

You twisted around in his arms until you were facing him head-on. He had an innocent, wide-eyed look on his face that you knew was complete and utter bull. There was nothing innocent about him, not with the way his fingers gripped at your hips, not with the way he was pressing against your lower body.

Two could play at that game.

“Then what are you hungry for?” you asked, tilting your chin up almost defiantly.

“Take one shucking guess,” he muttered, all traces of innocence gone. With half-lidded eyes, he leaned in closer, lips parted slightly. You knew what he was going for and you had a feeling he wouldn’t stop himself this time – but this was not part of the plan. Just as he was about to kiss you, you ducked away and broke free of his grasp.

“Hurry up, Minho,” you urged, heading for the door. “I don’t want Frypan yelling at me for letting the food go cold.”

Behind you, you heard a string of expletives. As you opened the door, a hand reached out from behind you and slammed it shut. Minho gave you a tight-lipped smile that didn’t do much to hide the annoyance in his eyes.

“See, here’s the thing,” he began, clearly irritated. “We were even up until today. Now you’re being unfair.”

“I’m being unfair?” You scoffed. “Minho, you’ve been playing with me since we first became friends. You’re the one that’s been unfair this whole time.”

“I’ve been subtly dropping hints.”

“You call pulling me into your lap subtle?”

“Yes?” Minho gave you that klunk-eating grin that you loved the most. “I could show you what being unfair is like, though. Want me to?”

The way he’d spoken – as if he was challenging you – made your head spin. Your knees went weak.

In an instant, he had you cornered against the door, one hand grasping your hip. “I bet you came here tonight to get back at me for the other day in the pantry, huh?” Minho let a finger trail down from your chin to your neck, to the opening of your button-down shirt. His voice dropped to a cheeky whisper. “I don’t want to play games, you know.”

He was practically asking you to give up. And the more you stared into his warm brown eyes, the more you wanted to do as he said, ego be damned. He clearly knew the effect he had on you – the power he held over you – and you liked it. Why were you being so stubborn?

Minho straightened up, his expression going from playful to stoic. “Or you can walk out that door right now. But if you do, I’ll know you don’t want me like that and I’ll back off.” His tone sounded off, almost uncertain. “It’s up to you.”

You felt a flutter of panic in your chest. No, leaving was not what you wanted. Minho stopping all affection for you was most definitely not what you wanted.

“Just – just shucking kiss me already.”

With a reassured smile, he obliged. His lips found yours in an instant, all warm and soft and better than you’d imagined they would be. All the anticipation that had built up over the past few days made him taste even sweeter. You were breathless as he held you; his hands settled on your waist like a perfect fit. Everything that had transpired between the two of you – all the teasing, all the flirting, all the quiet wanting – would have been worth it, so long as he continued to kiss you like this forever and ever. You could never – would never – grow tired of him.

After a while, Minho stopped for air and gave you a coy grin. “I win,” he said smugly.

Your cheeks heated.

“Shut up.”

[imagines-tmr]

Do you take tmr au requests?

i’ve never thought about it before but yeah, sure! i think it could be super fun!

[imagines-tmr]

requests are open!

please send in any requests if you have them! thank you to everyone who still read my blog and stuck by me through my hiatus. hopefully i can make up for lost time!

[imagines-tmr]

does anyone still read this blog? i’ve been gone for 500000 years but i miss the fandom and would be down to start writing again?

[imagines-tmr]

semi-hiatus

for the next two weeks, i won’t be posting any imagines! lately i’ve been feeling really under the weather and i don’t have the motivation to write anything. i want to take some time off and get better before i continue writing any of the current requests i have, because man oh man like i said, i can’t seem to write anything at all.

all current requests will be put on hold until the hiatus is over.

sorry about this guys! but know that when the two weeks are up, i will be back to writing again :))

[imagines-tmr]

Kind of personal but are you in school? (High school)?

actually, i just finished high school! i’m going to university in september and i’m freaking out man :((

[imagines-tmr]

imagine #23

character - Newt

words - 1623

warnings - blood (but only a little)

description - Newt is worried sick when you don’t make it out of the Maze before the doors close.

a/n - requested anonymously ; i loved writing this request! it’s a little longer than i anticipated it would be, but i hope you guys enjoy it <3

Your lungs burned. It was like someone had taken a match to them and lit them on fire, and now the smoke was consuming you from the inside out. Every breath you took hurt; your chest was threatening to cave in.

Your legs ached just as badly. But you kept telling yourself that no matter how much pain you were in, you had to keep running. 

If you didn’t, you were dead.

Left, right, left, left. Your mind raced as fast as your legs did, trying to remember the order of turns you’d taken that morning. But you didn’t work well under stress, and you had never known a stress like the one you were currently under. You could barely think from how afraid you were.

And then the ground shook under you. The screeching of metal and rock grinding against one another was like electric current through your spine; the hair on your arms stood on end as you sped up. You turned right and saw your destination — the North Door.

A large group of Gladers had gathered in front of it, and when they caught sight of you, every single one of them started shouting words of encouragement. But the door to the Glade was closing faster than your legs could move, and you knew you would never make it in time.

You saw Newt standing at the front of the crowd, his eyes wide with panic. You’d never seen him so distressed before. That expression was foreign on him and didn’t suit him. He, as well as the others, motioned for you to keep going, but you came to a halt moments before the spikes on the door settled into their respective holes on the opposite wall.

A silence surrounded you, one that shook you right down to your core. You struggled to catch your breath, bending at the waist and resting your shaky hands on your knees.

You were dead.

Realization hit you like a tidal wave. It wasn’t one of those creep-on-you-slowly kind of thing. The barrier of stone in front of you had sealed for the night, along with your fate. No one had ever survived a night in the Maze, and you sure as hell didn’t have what it took to be the first.

First came the tears. You crumpled to the ground like a rag doll, overwhelmed with uncontrollable sobs. Any control you had over your body left you; you cried and cried until your body ached more than ever.

When the tears ran out, you dabbed at your face with the hem of your shirt and stood, feeling very lightheaded. Panic stung at your chest and coursed through your veins like an icy river. What were you supposed to do? Sit around by the door and wait for the Grievers to come get you?

No, you couldn’t just wait like bait. You decided to go deeper into the Maze and find a place to spend the night. In the wee hours of the morning, the doors would open again and there would be far less Grievers. All you had to do was survive that long.

Newt was scared. More scared than he’d ever been in his life. He’d never known a fear like it; the thought of you out there in the Maze for a whole night was like a million stabs to his chest.

No one had ever made it out. No one. And while you were a good Runner and capable of handling yourself, this seemed a little beyond your reach. It was beyond anyone’s reach. 

He waited by the door all night. Never slept, never did anything but stare at the stone wall that separated him from you. He wasn’t a Runner, not anymore, but he would have gone straight out into the Maze to find you if he could.

When the Grievers came, you struggled to keep your calm. You couldn’t let your mind blank with panic, not now, not when your life depended on it. You had to stay lucid. When the whirring of metal came nearer and nearer, you started running again, trying to put as much distance between you and them as possible.

And then you lost your footing and fell forward. Your hands reached out to cushion the fall, but searing pain shot up your arms. You landed hard on your knees and curled instinctively inwards. Tears blurred your vision; you had been far too careless for your own good.

You looked down at your palms, bloodied and raw. Your jeans had ripped at the knees and the fabric was starting to stain with red. As you tried to get up, more pain pulsed through your right foot. You couldn’t put any pressure on it whatsoever.

But the whirring kept coming. The Grievers weren’t going to show you any mercy.

Crawling over to the ivy-covered walls, you started to look for a place to hide. Eventually, you found a crook in the stone that was deep enough for you to burrow yourself into it. Covering the hole with an curtain of green foliage, you waited.

You tried not to let your hands touch anything but you knew you needed to treat your wounds for infections. Still, it wouldn’t be possible unless you made it back to the Glade.

You wanted to cry again but you were very well aware that any sounds you made would only draw the Grievers to you, and then you’d really have no chance of survival. Maybe staying hidden like that would keep you safe. In any case, you couldn’t run anymore. There was nothing else you could do. If you were meant to live, you would live. If not—

You didn’t dare think about that.

To pass the time, your mind wandered back to what the Gladers would have been doing at that hour. Dinner would have been served already — they would have been joking around and laughing about the mundane things in their lives. How you missed it already.

You would have been huddled up beside Newt, stealing from his food every once in a while. Then the two of you would have camped out beside the Deadheads the way you usually did, telling stories off the top of your heads and talking about the days to come.

Your chest ached at the thought of Newt. He was your best friend — and quite possibly more — and you were most likely never going to see him again. You could still see the panic on his face as the doors closed and it hurt you right down to your bones.

You’d give anything to be beside him again.

You hadn’t realized you’d dozed off until you heard someone shouting your name. Blinking hard, you made a slit in the curtain of ivy and sunlight seeped into your small shelter.

How the hell—

You’d made it? The Grievers hadn’t gotten to you? How was that even possible?

The voice calling your name grew louder. You recognized the boy’s voice — Minho.

“I’m over here!” you shouted.

When he found you, his eyes went wide. He, too, couldn’t believe the fact that you’d survived a night out in the Maze.

He helped you out of the hole and lifted you up into his arms. He carried you like that back to the Glade, and none of you spoke about what had happened. You were both far too shaken to say anything.

The Med-Jacks were quick to patch you up. They poured rubbing alcohol all over your wounds and cleaned them thoroughly, and then instructed you to rest. You were confined to your bed until your foot got better, which was going to take a while.

Not like you were going to complain. After your stint in the Maze, you could have slept for a century.

But the door to your room opened shortly after the Med-Jacks left, and Newt walked in.

He looked horrible; there were dark circles under his eyes, which were slightly red and puffy. Had he been crying? Or was that just from a lack of sleep?

“How are you holding up?” Newt asked. His voice was thick with something you couldn’t describe.

“I’m good,” you said, nodding. You held up your bandaged hands. “I’ll heal in no time.”

He sat by the foot of your bed. For a while, neither of you said anything. Newt’s gaze was distant, like his head was a million miles away, and you couldn’t catch up.

“You scared me,” he said. “I kept thinking I’d never see you again.”

“I kept thinking I’d never see you again, either,” you told him. 

He shook his head. “No, you don’t know what it was like to sit here and not be able to do a single bloody thing to make sure you’re safe.” Newt’s voice cracked, which scared you. You could count on one hand the amount of times he’d shown any vulnerability in front of you, and none of the previous instances came close to this.

“And the worst part,” he continued, “was that it took those doors to close you out into the Maze for me to realize that I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Your breath hitched in your throat at his words.

“I’m not going anywhere, Newt,” you assured him, taking his hand in yours. “You can’t get rid of me that easily.”

To you, it was a joke. But it didn’t amuse Newt at all. He pressed your knuckles to his lips and scooted closer to you until his back was resting against the headboard. You leaned against his chest and he wrapped his arms around you.

Newt didn’t let go for a very long time.

[imagines-tmr]

requests are closed!

man i’m swamped you guys! i love y’all so much and thank you guys for requesting. i’ll try to finish everything i’ve been asked to write so far by the end of the week. my inbox is still open though so if you guys have questions, send them in! but i can’t take anymore requests at this point :))

[imagines-tmr]

Just to clarify, I've been told your imagines are based off the books, but are the characters too? Like when you write about them, do you refer to them as the movie people or book?

generally, everything in my imagines is based off the books. sure, when i write, i might envision the actors as the characters, but that won’t change the way i describe them. but yeah, i generally try to go by the book descriptions of everything.