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rivthejellyfish · 2 years

Text

Wasn't Planning On It

Word count: 1301

Hurt/Comfort

Newt x reader

Navigation

Warnings: Swear words, knife, sexual assault

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"Hurry, there's a bonfire tonight, don't want you to miss too much of it." Y/N nodded, a smile on their face as they followed his instructions, picking up the tools. Newt smiled back and walked away. Newt suppressed his own smile, knowing that Minho would only make fun of him for it. However, as always, he was unsuccessful.

"Hey there lover boy!" Minho said, throwing his arms around Newt's shoulder. Every two weeks, runners take a day off. They switch days, just to make sure there's always someone in the maze gathering intel. Sadly for Newt, this meant that Minho had seen the entire interaction. "Is it true you two spend most of your time together? Been hearing some rumors around the bend." Newt rolled his eyes, shoving Minho off.

"Shut it shank," Newt muttered. Minho laughed.

"Only ‘cause you asked so nicely," He said. Newt and Minho talked for a bit. The fire was lit, however, there was no sign of Y/N. No one saw this as strange, considering Y/N did tend to be more of a quiet person, so no one was truly worried. Y/N had also talked about being tired during the day, so it could easily be led to the conclusion that they simply decided to go to sleep early. On the other hand, Newt knew them better than that. Even if they had gone to sleep, they would've said goodnight first. However, whenever Newt voiced his concerns to his friends he got the same response.

"Damn, Newt, so clingy."

"Leave the girl alone, she needs a break."

"Stop being a worry wart."

"You're way too obsessed, it's concerning."

Then there was the very special one, from Minho, who spent an entire five minutes picking fun at Newt's attraction to Y/N. Newt groaned in annoyance, seeing that no one believed there was an alternate option to what Y/N was doing. The only person who showed any slight bit of concern was Alby, who told Newt that Newt could go check their room in twenty minutes. Twenty agonizing minutes went by, taking their precious time. Due to Newt's composure, Alby allowed him to go five minutes early. Since Y/N was definitely a target of some of the boys here, Alby decided it'd be best to have them on the other side of his room from where the rest of the boys were. They were between Newt and Alby, both of whom had the trust of Y/N. Newt wasted no time walking towards Y/N's hut, bit wearing to waste time. He was halfway there when a scream came from the deadheads. Now, while none of the gladers truly knew what Y/N's voice or scream sounded like, considering they couldn't know if their timidness affected their voice or not, Newt knew that was them. There was no hesitation as he ran in the dead heads, not even bothering to look to see if anyone heard it as well. Newt heard several people calling for him, advising that he didn't risk it. Others were running the second they heard the scream. Newt ran the fastest, dodging branches and rocks as he found his way to the tool shed. There was the newbie, standing over Y/N with his shirt off along with a knife in his hands. Y/N's shirt was unbuttoned as they desperately tried to cover themself while attempting to get away.

"You had one fucking job, you bitch. But no, why the hell would you ever listen to me?" The newbie said, voice heavy with anger and frustration. "I wasn't going to hurt you too much, I told you this. You should’ve just listened to me."

"Get the hell away from them." Newt's voice wasn't his own. It sounded darker. Y/N didn't even realize it was him at first until they saw him. The newbie scoffed and shook his head.

"So you can have them all for yourself, Newt? I don't think so." That's when Newt acted. He jumped forward, grabbing tightly and rolling him off of Y/N. While Newt and the newbie fought, the other gladers arrived. Several tried to approach Y/N, but they backed away, trying to cover themself. What Newt hadn't realized was that the newbies had cut the buttons of their shirt, making it impossible for them to actually cover themself back up. As Minho pulled Newt back, all Newt could see was red when looking at the newbie. Minho was saying something, but he couldn't take his focus off of the newbie as he fought against Minho, trying to get him to let go.

"Newt listen to me." Another kick. "Newt, come on, come on!" Still struggling. "This isn't helping Y/N whatsoever, get it together!" Upon the use of their name, Newt remembered the reason this had all started in the first place. He quickly scanned the area, trying to find them. His eyes landed on the shaking body against the tool shed, arms grabbing at their shirt as they covered their chest. Eyes wide, full of anxiety and fear, staring at the newbie who had just been over top of them. Any time anyone would get close, they'd kick back at them and start shaking more, obviously not wanting anyone near them. When they finally looked at Newt, at first they seemed to relax. However, seeing Minho holding him back as he had a murderous look in his eyes caused the fear to come back in their eyes, but now with a tongue of betrayal along with slight hesitation about whether or not they are truly backing away from him. Finally, Newt got out of Minho's hold, but he didn't go for the newbie. He went straight to Y/N, who may have been scared, but the energy to fight back had been drained. They flinched back slightly, but Newt hugged them instead of what they were expecting. Y/N relaxed against him, though they were still shaking. Newt kept their ears covered as the others dragged the newbie away, who was kicking and screaming to try and get back to Newt.

“Come on, Y/N, let’s go back to my shack, alright?” Y/N nodded, standing up with Newt.

“Newt,” Minho said behind him. He turned back to see Minho holding Alby’s jacket, Alby walking away to confront the newbie. Newt nodded to thank him before taking it and placing it over Y/N's shoulders. The walk back was quiet, aside from the distant yelling coming from the other gladers. Newt led Y/N back to their hut, where he found them a new shirt and stood outside while they changed. The door opened behind him and he turned, glad to see Y/N there welcoming him in. Y/N sat down on her bed and Newt sat next to her. Multiple times he felt like saying something, but due to a lack of knowledge about what to say, he stayed quiet. After a few minutes, Y/N sighed.

“I tried to kick him back… I swear I did,” They muttered. “I just- I just froze. He had a knife, I didn’t know what to do.” Newt nodded.

“I know you did, Y/N,” He replied. Y/N didn’t say anything, keeping their eyes on their hands. Newt nodded to himself as he stood up. “Go ahead and lay down, Y/N. I’ll be back in a minute.” Newt left, not waiting for Y/N’s response. Y/N sighed, pulling their feet up on the bed, but not turning to lie down. A few minutes later, Newt walked back in, a blanket from the med hut in his hands. “Come on, Y/N, you need to get some sleep.” Y/N nodded, leaning back and resting her head on her pillow as Newt pulled the blanket to cover them. Before he could say anything, Y/N grabbed his hand.

“Please don’t go,” They muttered.

“I wasn’t planning on it.”

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

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sleepydross · 10 months

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If you would write a pulp fiction mystery, or something similar, what would the opener be? Who gets merced? How does the victim die? What would be the perfect opener in your specific eyes?

this if itll finally let me post it Normally, the streets would've been dark, too dark to see without the streetlights - but those were out, too. All kinds of things were going to Hell, and fast. There was one thing Walter knew, however…

It was the same thing everyone else knew, too.

So he took a sip of his scotch and stopped looking out the window, and listened to the dame on the stage - she was something else entirely, tall, gorgeous, muscles tight beneath skin shiny with sweat. The humidity was bad, but the streets were flooded, the tides too wild and unpredictable.

"Have there always been three moons? Have there always been three moons?" she sang, and these questions hung in the air like streams of leaden smoke, curling and twisting and resonating too hard.

It wasn't dark out there, on account of Luna's new sisters. Their official names were 'Scarlet' and 'Roanoke' for government-code-name reasons he'd never get to understand. He liked to think of them as 'Pam' and 'Mabel,' sounded more friendly.

She sang on, about those moons and those questions. People had lots of questions, those days, and were short on answers. Life had gone and gotten hard, and everyone was flagging.

And then he sat down, right across from Walter. A server followed, setting the table with a bounty - a bottle of dark whiskey and enough sushi to put him to sleep for a week.

"What do you want?" he asked the newcomer - but he poured some whiskey on his sad, boozeless rocks and took a sip. It was high end, good shit, probably pre-lunar fracture. The newcomer was handsome, skin dark and rich, cool in tone - near blue, in the dim light of the joint.

"What don't I want, Walter?" he asked, and Walter had to stop himself from swooning - no vapors on cases, he kept his head clear. Clear enough. Acceptably clear. Alcohol was a slight issue. "Got your attention, then? Marvelous. I'll keep this brief. Luna's hurting, we can all see the red smeared across her surface - but the question we all want the answer to? Who killed her, and let her sisters and their friends in?"

"Yeah, we all want that answer, buddy, but we ain't gonna get it - some spook from whatever's left of the CIA will peep that shit long before civvies like me hear about it. So, that in mind, tell me what you want, or let me drink in peace," Walter replied, coming on strong and keeping the heat up - most people balked when they started to sweat.

"Aren't you precious? There is no CIA, Walt, not anymore - there is, however, Grimbo Shanks… a man with not inconsiderable resources and a desire to find out who killed the moon," this tall, devilishly handsome stranger said, drawing a card from the breast pocket of his immaculately tailored suit. "There is a payphone, on East Third and Birmingham, on street level - it's not flooded, not yet. Get there… and call this number if you want answers too."

With that, the stranger rose and walked briskly away. Walt tried to follow him, and lost the man almost instantly in the moving ocean of servers and sad drunks that he numbered so humbly among. Grumpy, Walter sat down, and picked up the card.

'Grimbo Shanks - The Order of Eyes.'

"…fuckin' nutter," he muttered - but before he could toss the card away, he sniffed it, finding a familiar odor touching his nose. "Impossible."

But it wasn't. A sniff again brought that gut wrenching smell right back into his nostrils, and left him aching for more. It hadn't been made, hadn't been available, since before the Fracture… and he'd, once upon a time, known the man who wore that cologne and complained like Hell when they discontinued it, even if it was awful and a bit too woody.

"Can't be," he said. He hadn't gone by Grimbo Shanks, back then… but it wasn't a far cry to imagine that theatrical prick taking up a new name in a new world.

Grunting, he got up, slumping towards the door, intent on seeing if there were any Gossha around the lower levels who wanted to drink some blood - if he was going to get to a phone before high tide hit, he was going to need to sober up.

#mystery #fiction #writing #fantasy #creative writing

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