The maze runner imagines

A rose

Character: Minho (the maze runner)

Rating: K, fluff

Words: 1.663

Warning: none         

Request:  Hi :] Could you maybe write one where Minho is in love with the reader but doesn’t know how to tell her, so maybe the other gladers help him come up with a plan to tell the reader he likes her? Fluffy please (^w^) -Anonymous

A/N: Weeeeeee I’m in such a good mood today, can you tell? Anyway I kind of based the idea for this one on something I did myself last Thursday (yes I am a sappy romantic) so yeah. Hope you like it!

And yes I have a thing for people falling and laying on top of each other bite me

A rose

Weird, you thought. Everyone was crowding around the Box. A new load had arrived a couple of minutes ago, so now the gladers were inspecting the gain.
You examined the strange thing you just found in the Box. A little packet, not bigger than the palm of your hand. It was white, and you were just about to read the small black letters on the backside when someone snatched it out of your hand.

“Hey!”, you shouted, twisting to spot the thief.

“Ah ah, that’s mine y/n,” Newt said. The blonde held the packet behind his back and didn’t succeed in hiding a mischievous grin.

“But Neeewt,” you whined, “I want to know what it is.”

Newt only shrugged in response, and with a wink, he disappeared in the swarm of gladers.
You pushed through the pack, muttering apologies here and there. He wasn’t going to get away with this, running off leaving you here wondering what that odd object was.
Just as you could catch a glimpse of his messy blonde hair, someone hit you full on, causing you to fall down. A couple of gladers cursed under their breaths, telling you to move out of the way.

“… sorry?” Minho’s body hovered over yours, his hands flat on the ground above your shoulders. He had a wry smile on his face, his eyebrows knit together.

“Get off of me you shuckface,” you said, yet you couldn’t help but laugh. Minho may seem like a badass, yet he proved to be a massive dork as well. And that was one of the many, many things you liked about him.
He pushed himself up and reached out a hand to get you on your feet. You wiped the dirt of your pants. When you looked up again, you saw the troubled expression on his face, like a layer of paint that dried and started to itch, clearly frustrating the runner.

“Why were you in such a hurry anyway?”, you asked lightly, trying not to sound accusing.

“I’m, I’m looking for something.” His eyes fell down, as if the answer was right under his nose.

“Well what are you looking for then? Maybe I can help.”

“No! I mean, no, thanks a lot, but I don’t need any help.” That forced smile re-appeared.

“Really Minho, it’s no problem. I mean I didn’t put anything specific on the list this month so I have time to-”

“Minho?”  He had simply run off. That condescending slinthead, you thought. First he acts all sweet and cute and then he just leaves me here, like a dog that has to waits for its owner’s return. Well over my dead body.

Just as you turned around, another glader was standing right in front of you.

“Woah there!” You held your hands up. “What is it with boys blocking my way today.”