#alby

Pairing: Newt x f!reader

Summary: y/n makes blankets for the gladers for the cold nights, when she realises she hasn’t made one for herself she just sucks it up and goes without. But Newt doesn’t let her freeze.

A/N: currently taking random oneshots I posted on wattpad and putting them on tumblr, cuz realistically I’m never gonna make a whole oneshot book worth of content for wattpad

fluff

Days in the glade were hot and humid. Which was mostly nice. Getting sweaty while doing jobs outside wasn't my favourite thing, but being the only girl amongst a ton of boys meant I was always the best out of a bad bunch when it came to sweatiness, so I didn't really mind. But, oh, were the nights cold.

Freezing, in fact. The complete opposite of the sunny days. Once the sun starts to set it's time to grab an extra layer, it gets so cold so fast. I can't even count the amount of times I had caught boys who "didn't feel the cold" or "didn't need a blanky to sleep" later shivering in their hammocks, too proud to admit they were freezing after all.

The creators never sent up blankets though.

So, I decided to take it upon myself to fix this problem. It took me a couple months, but I sheered the wool off the sheep and spun it into yarn (that took me ages) and I got two nice pieces of scrap wood shavings from Gally, that I whittled down to be my knitting needles. Of course I have no memories from before the glade, and as surprised as I am that I have this talent, I am so glad I learned to knit before I was sent down here for who knows what.

With my DIY materials and newly rediscovered talent I knitted as many blankets as my hands could manage. They were soft and thick, and large enough for a teenage boy. Of course they weren't perfect and no two blankets looked the same, but that was part of the charm. Each had a slightly different colour due to the sheep's coat colours all being different. Some were gradient from where I had started to spin a white sheep's fur with a black sheep's fur. Some suddenly switched colours from where I ran out of wool and had to switch to another colour abruptly. And some were just one solid colour. But the colours didn't really matter, it was the warmth they provided that mattered.

That night, during dinner, I slipped away excitedly to retrieve my handmade gifts. I had informed Alby of my plans the day I thought of the idea and he thought it was great, one less thing for the boys to complain about. So, once he noticed me jogging off to one of the lookout towers where I had done most of my knitting and where the blankets are kept, he followed me promptly.

"They're going to be so excited for this." He said once he had reached me, where I stood stuffing as many blankets into a spare basket as possible.

I chuckled. "And why is that?"

"It gets pretty shucking cold in the glade, if you haven't noticed." He joins me in folding and stuffing blankets into another basket for himself to carry. "The other gladers sure have noticed. Really, would it kill the creators to send blankets down themselves, instead of making us do it."

I don't respond to this. I try not to think about the reasoning behind the small actions of torture we have to endure from an unknown source. It's better to look on the bright side, we now have blankets. And soon the whole glade will be just a little bit warmer at night.

We finish loading up our baskets and begin carrying them back to where the others are eating. None of them seem to have noticed our absence, nor our return, until Alby yells:

"Oi! Listen up!" All eyes are now on us.

I drop my basket onto the ground and begin explaining, "Um, so I think it's safe to say that it gets pretty cold at night here in the glade." Murmurs of agreement. "And so I have taken it upon myself to help out with that a bit." I pick up a blanket, unfold it and hold it up for the crowd.

They smile, some nod their heads, and others roll their eyes, probably acting as if they're too tough to need a blanky. But as Alby tells them to form a queue, no one is left sat down.

Each person is given a blanket. Chuck was first in line, so I make sure he got the softest one. That earned me a hug from the kid. Minho gave me a fist bump and thanked me. Thomas, the greenie, as of about a week ago, seemed as confused as ever, but he took a blanket and thanked me still. Alby was quicker to hand out ones from his basket, not waiting for a thank you as I was, and so he had said goodnight and left when I was only half way through my line. One by one each glader was gifted until there was only one left in the line and...one blanket.

"You made these?" A familiar voice chimes. It's newt, of course, my old friend. He was second in the glade and I was third, so we have been through a lot together; I would go as far as saying he's my best friend. I spend more time with Minho or Ben or even Chuck, but I know he's always there for me if I need him.

But I don't respond to his question. I'm currently staring at the singular blanket. I really thought everything had turned out perfectly, the last of the wool I had spun was used to make the last blanket, I thought it was a miracle that there was the perfect amount. But clearly I miss counted, and all the sheep had been sheered too, so I can't-

"Y/n?"

"Oh...um- yeah." I look up at him. "Took me, um, took me ages!" Shuck.

He looks at me thoroughly, eyebrows furrowed, and then he looks into the basket. "There's only one left isn't there."

I nod, slowly.

"Well that's alright!" He smiles once again and picked up the blanket, thrusting it towards me. "Here, it's the least you deserve after all that hard work."

"No no no, I made them for you guys. Really, honestly it's fine."

"Y/n, come on, you made them, you deserve one."

"No Newt, it's for you."

"Y/n, take it."

"No, it's yours."

"Y/n."

"I've gotta go. See you tomorrow!" And with that, I turn on my heels and walk away as quickly as possible, leaving him stood there with the last blanket.

* * *

That night, each and every glader is wrapped in their new gifts.

It's rewarding to see them all so contempt during the harsh nights. But a part of me does wish I made them all just a little bit smaller, perhaps then there would be enough wool left for me to have my own. Tonight is particularly bad, like, I can't comprehend how any of the boys are asleep when such harsh cold winds are roaring in my ears. I tried curling up into a foetal position 10 minutes ago, and now I can't move, because if I do then the rest of my hammock, which has been exposed to the elements, will surely freeze my limbs off upon contact.

I am shaking and my teeth are chattering so loud I'm scared I might wake the other gladers. I contemplate putting on every piece of clothing I have to try and insulate myself, but that would require me to move and I don't have many pieces of clothing in the first place.

I can no longer feel anything in my hands or feet and just as I feel the tears welling up in my eyes I hear footsteps. No one should be up at this time and I almost build up the will power to lift my head before the person speaks.

"Are you alright, love?" Newt.

I try speaking but it only comes out as stutters and more chattering teeth, "I-i-m-m f-f-f-ine." How embarrassing.

"You don't seem it. I couldn't stand the thought of you laying here all cold with no blanket, especially on a night like this, so I thought I'd come and help out."

I lift my head to see him stood there holding the blanket I made him. I'm about to go on about how I made it for him and I'll borrow someone's spare hoodie tomorrow, but before I could speak I am lifted into the air and out of my hammock.

Newt doesn't let my feet touch the ground while he lays in my hammock himself, him on the bottom and me laying on top of him. He begins to drape the blanket over the both of us, making sure to tuck in the sides to stop any cold air from getting in. Once he's done that his arms snake around me, and I take a moment to address what's just happened.

"Newt?"

"Mhm?" He sounds sleepy.

"Thank you."

"Well I can't just let you freeze, can I?"

Summary: As Thomas explores the glade after his arrival and tour, he notices you, the only female, standing up to Gally.

Warnings: Possible language, arguments

It had only been a few hours since Thomas arrived, but his restless curiosity was already getting the better of him. The glade was massive - too big, too strange - and every corner seemed to whisper with secrets he wasn’t supposed to know yet.

Newt and Alby had both warned him not to get into trouble. Naturally, that only made him want to explore more.

He wandered aimlessly for a while, taking in the rows of crude shelters, the gardens, and the distant, towering walls that framed the glade like a cage. Then, the sound of raised voices caught his attention.

Thomas followed the noise until he saw Gally in the middle of a group of gladers, barking orders at them like he owned the place. From the way the others flinched or avoided his gaze, maybe he did, or at least thought he did.

Thomas stopped beside Newt, who was standing a few feet away, arms crossed, watching the argument unfold.

“He always like this?” Thomas asked quietly.

“Mostly,” Newt replied, not taking his eyes off Gally.

Thomas frowned, watching as Gally kicked over a bucket and started yelling about someone slacking off on their job. Then something else caught his eye. You.

You were walking straight toward Gally. Confident. Calm. The other gladers noticed too, stepping back as you approached, like they knew what was about to happen.

“What is she doing?” Thomas asked, eyes narrowing.

Newt smirked faintly. “Just watch.”

Thomas did.

Gally turned as you came up beside him, his tone still sharp. “Stay out of this, Y/n. This isn’t your section.”

You crossed your arms. “Maybe not, but you don’t get to scream at people just because you’re having a bad day.”

Gally’s jaw tensed. “I’m keeping order.”

“You’re being a pain,” you shot back. “There’s a difference.”

A few gladers snickered quietly. Gally’s glare silenced them, but the damage was done - you’d challenged him, and you weren’t backing down.

Thomas couldn’t help the grin tugging at his lips. For a moment, Gally looked like he might explode, but instead, he huffed, muttered something under his breath, and stormed off.

You turned to the others, gave a few quick instructions, and they scattered back to work. Then your eyes flicked briefly toward Thomas and Newt - and for a heartbeat, Thomas swore you were looking right at him.

“Who is she?” Thomas asked, still watching as you walked away.

Newt finally looked at him, one corner of his mouth lifting. “That, Greenie, is someone you don’t want to mess with.”

Tags:

@mandmilovehim @onelesslonelygirlbieber6 @mingis-queen97 @lgbtq-girl @lateej @christopherbangsnudes @riowritesitall

drawing the maze runner book scenes — part 1

newt & alby (books)

alby is consistently written as soft, protective, and emotionally attuned only with newt.

with everyone else, alby is rigid, authoritative, and distant because he has to be.

newt isn’t just alby’s second-in-command; he’s his anchor, the one person alby allows himself to be human with.

their bond reads as deeply intimate, whether readers interpret it as romantic or not. it’s mutual trust forged over years, not weeks.

when alby dies, it breaks newt in a way the movies don’t have time to explore.

newt & thomas (books)

what often gets missed:

newt’s relationship with thomas is conflicted, not purely affectionate.

thomas represents change, disruption and the chain of events that leads to alby’s death.

newt wants to trust thomas. he tries to like him. but there’s resentment underneath that never fully goes away.

that tension is intentional. newt’s kindness toward thomas is real, but it’s layered with grief, guilt, and anger he doesn’t know how to place that gets worse with the flare.

so when people frame newt/thomas as some inevitable tragic romance based mostly on:

the movies

newt’s later death

emotional scenes stripped of context

…it ignores what the books actually say about newt’s inner world.

why the movies shifted the narrative

the films:

kill alby early and deliberately alter his death to take fault away from thomas and the tragedy of newt's attempt in the past, removing newt's complete breakdown that happened in the books and thomas' lack of empathy surrounding it

compress relationships so thomas becomes the emotional stand-in for everyone.

lean into visible chemistry + tragedy, which fandom often equates with romance.

that doesn’t make the ship “wrong” as a headcanon—but it does make it inaccurate to present it as replacing alby’s importance.

thomas was honestly not that likeable in the books so they had to take from other character's to improve him as the main character for the movies (which honestly was the right move because i love him in the movies) as well as retcon his past because he originally never betrayed wicked and was not the leak for the right arm. he originally just refused to take his memories back because he was afraid he'd choose to side with wicked again if he did.

james dashner said there would be no more books but after the first movie came out, he wrote another prequel to make the movie version of thomas more canon.

bottom line

alby was newt’s constant.

thomas was a catalyst—and a wound that never fully healed.

if anything, the tragedy of newt’s arc is that the person he loved most was gone long before he died, and thomas was a reminder of that loss as much as a comfort.

he promised a happily ever after with alby, lost him then had to be the glue that held everyone together and he suffered silently with that grief until he could no more and in his last moments, he told thomas he blamed him for alby’s death and while i don't think he fully meant it and he was just losing the composure he was known for because of the part of the disease that makes you angry and irrational, it's still important to note that he had been carrying those feelings all that time.

(Most likely by his father, but I wouldn't doubt inappropriateness from his mother too judging by the Maura-Niall tickling scene. And later he likely experienced things at the Young Offender's Institute.)

All the signs are there if you know what to look for.

The unabashed exhibitionism, the sexualizing of everything he says/ does, the way he thought arranging the loss of his stepbrothers virginity and playing an active role in it was completely normal.

(Also I'm positive Mona is also a survivor and those kids found each other and found mutual understanding in the harmful sexuality they internalized.)

The sexual undertones in his interactions with Niall all the while calling him son. The fact that he doesn't care who he sleeps with, his being attracted to them isn't a factor (ie. Joanna). He's not even particularly homophobic, it's giving sex is just sex, because if sex meant something that means that what happened to me has to mean something.

We see it in the spin the bottle scene as well. There's something so sinister about him provoking Niall and Alby during spin the bottle asking "You're not man enough to kiss a bloke or something?" Because who taught him that? Someone said this to him at one point and now he's perpetuating it. Again sexual acts don't really mean anything because if they did...

And underneath that is everything Ruben never deals with.

Basically what happens right–