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Minho (tmr) X Fem!OC!

Scorch Trials - The Death Cure.

Word Count: 2360.

Little drops of water moistened her gray, loose shirt. Not that she noticed. She was too focused on the window, the lightning seemed something unfathomable for Jo, something out of this world. 

As her hands instinctively washed themselves, almost on autopilot, her mind wandered back to the same place it always went when she found a few seconds to zone out. 

What happened to Earth? Why is everything so… broken? 

The soap combined with her fast, practiced hand movements started forming foam. Her black nail-polish barely visible beneath the white mixture. Her dark, doe brown eyes dropped to her hands, cursing under her breath when she realized she still had her rings on. She always ruined her silver jewelry. 

“Shit…Not again, Jo. C’mon.” she scolded herself. 

Her long, slender and soapy fingers opened the tab. Swirls of scarlett danced on the water, her nose instantly wrinkling. She loved her job- no, she loved helping. Saving people. But having her hands deep on someone’s shoulder to take a bullet wasn’t exactly her cup of tea. 

“Yo!” Brenda, her best friend, called out behind her. Jo’s short hair flew as she whipped her head back to look at the girl, who had her index finger pointing out the window. “Look! People!” 

Jo’s eyes widened and she turned back around, looking through the stained glass. Brenda estaba right. There were people, in the middle of a lightning storm, running towards Jorge’s compound. Looking for shelter. “Get Jorge” her doctor-mode switched on, drying her hand with a forgotten - more damp than anything - towel and ran down the stairs. “I’ll get ‘em.” Her southern, slurring accent rolling off her tongue easily, almost lazy. 

Her slightly heeled shoes echoed on each step as she ran. If she didn’t open the door for them, they would get caught by lightning, and even if Jorge killed them right after Jo saved them, she needed to have her conscience clear. She couldn’t let them fry on the Scorch. Or let their Cranks eat their brains out. 

The door slammed open when Jo barged into it. Somehow, the strays had already entered their garage, their heads turning threateningly towards her. Jo scanned them with her gaze. One of them was laying unconscious on the floor, a girl, a blond and a dark-skinned boy circling him. “Minho! Wake up, Minho!” the girl softly slapped his face. Smoke coming out of his chest, his hair static and his mouth open. The boy was caught by lightning, she wasn’t as fast as she wanted to be. 

One brunette boy with brown eyes raised a bat her way. “Stay back.” he barked at Jo. Another blonde stood behind him, like some kind of second barrier between the group and Jo. 

She raised her hands. “I’m not gonna hurt you. I’m a doctor. I can help him.” Her tone was soft, trying to make them cave in. “My name 's Jo. You can trust me, I promise. I just wanna keep your friend alive.” 

Thomas’ eyes flickered between the girl and his friend on the floor, slowly lowering the bat. They couldn’t help Minho. She could. “If you hurt him…” he threatened, though his eyes were soft and afraid for his friend’s wellbeing. 

“I’m only one. You can clearly tackle me down.” she mentioned ironically. “I promise. I won’t hurt him. I’m here to help yall.” 

Surprisingly, that’s all it took for Thomas to cave in, lowering his bat and turning to the side, letting Jo step towards Minho. She was instantly on her knees beside the sleeping boy. “Lightning?” 

“Yeah, he– he got caught by lightning.” Newt answered. “W-who are you? Why you helpin’ us?” 

She shook her head, in disbelief. “I don’t know… I just do.” 

Her hands roamed over Minho with practice, knowing exactly what she needed to check. First her two fingers searched for his pulse, he was alive. Then she rubbed her knuckles on his sternum, he reacted, puffing his chest out. She took a little lighter from her back jeans pocket, shining the light on his pupil, forcing his eyelid open with her other hand. “He 's alright.” 

The Gladers could breathe again as she pronounced those words. But their hearts kept racing until MInho groaned softly, his eyebrows furrowing before he fluttered his eyes open. A ragged, husky and grave voice asked. “Wha-what happened?” he groaned out. His eyes caught Jo and his eyebrows raised. 

“I think you got struck by lightning.” Newt answered, smirking when he noticed Minho’s hooded eyes zeroed on Jo . 

Jo blushed profoundly - thanking the only light there was, where their flashlights pointed straight at Minho - his eyes never pulled away from her face, scanning her every feature. Focusing a second too long on her lips. Until a moment later he finally understood the blond’s words and his eyes widened his way. 

‘Caught by lighting? Shuck…’ A little smile stretched his cracked and dehydrated lips, his head lolled back, resting on the ground. “Oh… Awesome.” His tone sounded proud, and Jo scoffed. 

“Awesome? You could’ve died.” Teresa scolded him. 

“Can you stand?” the young doctor asked Minho. His eyes returned to her and he slowly nodded.

Thomas and Frypan gently pulled the boy to his feet. Jo couldn’t help but think how attractive he was. Who could, honestly, blame her? He was tall, broad, strong shoulders, muscular arms, hooded dark eyes, dark soft hair, tanned skin. For god’s sake, he was caught by lightning and merely minutes later he was standing up and rolling his shoulders back? Totally hot. 

He groaned lowly, looking at his friends. “Thanks guys.” Then, his eyes dropped to her. “Yuo too, pretty.” 

‘What a flirt’, Jo thought. She rolled her eyes, but a smirk tugged at the corners of her mouth regardless. “You’re welcome.” 

Minho flashed the most cocky, most shit eating, most smug grin he could summon. His pearly white, surprisingly also aligned, teeth flashing on the dim light of the night.

And that’s when Jo knew. She knew she would fall for Minho, not matter how hard she tried not to. 

She was right. Or at least that’s the best explanation she could find. 

Her left leg bounced anxiously, Brenda was staring at her with worry written all over her face. But Jo didn’t bother looking up.  The door of the Berg was open, and her eyes were boring into the crumbling, exploding city. 

‘Please. Please. Please.’ she kept repeating in her head. ‘Please, make it out alive.’

Somehow, -over the bombs, the gunshots and the screeching of buildings collapsing- her ears caught the sound of heavy, hurried steps, and she shot up. She couldn’t see him, but she could recognize those stomps everywhere. 

Jo hurriedly walked over to the edge of the ramp, her lips open as she breathed hard. 

‘It has got to be him.’ 

Minho’s lungs burned, but his heart clenched worse. Newt was dying. And yet, when he caught Jo standing on the ramp of the Berg, he forgot everything for a second. His eyes almost tearing as he remembered all the times he had dreamed about this, all the times WCKD had used Jo to make more anti-bodies. All the nights he woke up with her name between his lips and wet eyes. 

“Where’s the serum?!” His eyes were wide with fear, his chest heaving. It had been a long time since he had run like that, and the torture WCKD had induced to him had -most definitely- taken a toll on his physique. 

Jo cursed at herself for her racing heart. Now was not the time, Newt was dying. He needed the serum. And a little, the most sincere and sensible voice in her head, asked: Is the proper time gonna arrive at all?

Her doctor-mode instantly switched on, her face turned stoic, her eyes void and her hands tightly wrapped around the syringe. Thomas’ blood on it. She had figured it out, that’s why Mary had told Jo to take care of Thomas, that’s why when Brenda was bitten she used his blood. Which Jo came to learn just yesterday, when Brenda brought it up. 

If only Brenda had told her sooner, Newt wouldn’t be on the verge of death. 

Minho nodded and turned around, taking off with Jo hot in his heel. Minutes turned into hours, years, decades even. Her mind focused on one thing, running as fast as her lungs could get her. He turned around every once in a while, checking she was still there, his hand slightly wrapping around her wrist to push her legs to move faster. 

It seemed like ages since the first time Minho had the exact same thing. Before the Right Arm, before Newt’s infection, before Minho’s second time in WCKD. When they reached the mountains, Vince's men started shooting at them and his strong, big hand yanked her and wrapped his body around her to protect her. He had engulfed her in the most tight embrace she had ever experienced, his back completely shielding her from the stray bullets, his arms wrapped around her torso, tucking her head on his chest. 

She got  out of her head when Minho turned around a corner, jumping the three steps and finding Thomas fighting with Newt. The blond was completely out of his head, trashing and squirming on the floor, as Thomas straddled him and pinned both of his hands on each side of him. Minho instantly jumped to action, he ran to Thomas and helped him pin Newt down. 

Jo fell to her knees near Newt’s shoulders. She took the syringe in her back pocket, flicked the little glass, eliminating the air bubbles, and started ordering. “Give me his arm.” Thomas groaned as he obeyed her. The blond had the kind of strength that comes from being feral, like a rabid dog. Jo’s cold, slender fingers wrapped around Newt’s forearm, looking for a vein. “Fuck, he’s got no vein! He’s got no fucking vein!” 

It was common knowledge that the Flare Virus destroyed the human body. Her wide, frightened eyes found Thomas’ as he looked at her for answers, not more problems. She started panicking, looking at Newt’s pale, almost paper-like, skin. She found one dark, thick, pulping vein. 

Not a second later she stuck the needle on it. Not as carefully as she would normally do. But Newt didn’t seem to mind, a soft, relieved sigh left his lips. His black, wet eyes closed, his chest -which moved up and down rapidly- slowed down its movements. Jo pressed two fingers on his wrist and another two on his neck, she plopped down when she felt his pulse slowing down. 

Little beams of nervous sweat appeared on her temples before she wiped them with the back of her hand. She laughed nervously, Thomas threw himself at Newt’s still half unconscious figure, crying and thanking god for letting him live. 

Minho’s heart clenched, finally coming to terms with the whole ‘I’m free’ thing. Then, his eyes inevitably found Jo, at the verge of tears. Six, goddamn, months she had spent swallowing her tears, so she finally let them freely wet her cheeks. Her eyes were closed, her eyelashes fanning wetly over her flushed cheeks. Her hair disheveled, her clothes dirty and ragged. Dark bag under her eyes. 

His lips stretched on a smile, he stood up and yanked her up by her arm. Interrupting her peaceful moment. Her eyes opened, showing wide, warm brown orbs, straight on his. The familiar warmth spreading on his chest, he was fully conscient it only happened when Jo looked up at him like that. Minho’s hands shifted to cup her face. 

Her heart halted, her breaths becoming more rapid, heavy and shaky. She opened her mouth to say something, anything really. Any of the words she had been wanting to say for the past six months, all the speeches she had prepared for when he met him once again. However, the only sound that came out of her mouth was a soft surprised gasp when he leaned down and stamped his lips against hers. 

Her eyes widened for a second, before she wrapped her hands around his wrists and kissed him back. Minho’s hand had a steady hold on her jaw, tilting her head back to have better access to her mouth. Their lips moved together like they already knew what to do, when this was the first kiss of the two. 

When he pulled away, her eyes stayed closed for a second, before blinking a few times, her eyebrows raised. They made eye contact, and Jo couldn’t even speak. Just bore her eyes on his, trying to wrap her head around the fact that had just happened. Minho chuckled softly before connecting their foreheads, their noses brushing and their eyes closed.

“God, you have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that…” he whispered so close to her mouth she could almost taste him. 

She giggled, her thumbs caressing the skin of his inner wrists. “Yeah, idiot. It took three near death experiences for you to do it.” She laughed, her face mocking indignance. 

Minho’s chest rumbled with laughter, he tilted her head back and kissed her once more. Thumbing her sharp jawline as he moved his lips with hers. When he pulled away he pecked her, “There. Have I redeemed myself now?” he asked with a smug grin that displayed his little dimples.

She hummed with a little frown, pretending to think. “I don’t think so, try again.” she smirked.

He didn’t need to be told twice when he kissed her again. 

“That’s better.” she smiled in his mouth. 

Newt groaned, slowly propping himself up on his elbows with Thomas’ help. “Bloody hell.” He whipped his snotty, wet mouth. “That was disgusting.” 

Minho instantly left her to hug his friends, Thomas was wrapped around the blond like a goddamn koala.