Random Simp Book (one shots, imagines, etc.)

Still: Newt x Reader

A/N: paiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiin

Warnings: gore, death, p.250 with no happy ending, some of this is actually taken from p.250 so is not mine, be warned you will be dehyrdrated after this from crying,

Word count: 1181

'Newt - '

Your voice sounds stupidly tremulous, pleading and weak compared to the dark rage churning in his eyes and the alien way his face contorts, twisted in fury and hatred that is the opposite of anything that should be Newt. He yanks the gun towards himself, wrapping your limp fingers around the trigger and forcing it around until the muzzle is pressed harshly against his forehead. Your heart stutters, stops. No. No, it can't be. He can't. He can't do this to you.

'Kill me,' he snarls. 'Kill me before I become one of those cannibal monsters! I trusted you to do it. No one else. Just you. Now do it!'
'I - I can't, Newt. I can't.'
'Make amends!' He yells, and you feel tears prick your eyes as his voice lowers to an urgent, harsh whisper. 'Kill me, you shuck coward. Prove you can do the right thing. Put me out of my misery.'

Your mind races, trying to find a solution to this. A way to bring back the Newt you knew, the Newt you love, and yet you're scared that there isn't a way to get him back. He may already be gone, and you can't do anything about it but watch, watch as he slips away, replaced by this terrible rage inhabiting a human body.

'No, Newt,' you gasp. 'Maybe we can get - '
'Shut up!' He howls, as if he's fighting voices in his head. 'Just shut up! I trusted you, now do it!'
'I can't.'
'Do it!'
'I can't!' You scream. 'I can't kill you, Newt! I - I love you. You know I love you.'

You look away before he sees the tears in your eyes. How can he ask you to do this? How can he ask you to kill him? Kill him, the man who you spent your days with since the Glade? Kill him, the man who held you in his arms when your nightmares became too much? Kill him, the man who did nothing but stand beside you, sturdy and reliable when everything around you was crumbling down?

Kill him, the man you love? The man who loves you?

'I can't do this, Newt.' You still can't look him in the eyes.
'Kill me or I'll kill you,' he chokes out. 'Kill me! Do it!'
'Newt...'
'Do it before I become one of them!'
'Newt, I - '
'KILL ME!'

His eyes clear, as if he's gained one last trembling breath of sanity, and he reaches out a hand to cup your jaw, turning your face towards him. You see the man you know there, in his eyes, tender and hurting and begging, and you know. You know this is him, you know this is what he wants, and it breaks your heart all the same. You don't want to live on without him, you don't want his blood on your hands, you don't want this, you never wanted this. You knew that you wouldn't live forever, and neither would he, but God, why does it have to be like this?

A sob catches in your throat, and your hands tremble as you push his tousled hair off his sweat sheened forehead, trailing your fingertips down his face, caressing his neck and shoulders, trying to conjour up an image of the Newt before, the Newt who was happy. The lump in your throat threatens to strangle you, and you feel your soul, your heart, begin to fracture down the middle. It shatters, grating like the tomb like walls in the Maze, and you gasp for breath, tears pricking in your eyes. You know then that things will never be the same. You've reached a turning point, and you can't go back, no matter how much you wish to.

'Please, my love,' he whispers. 'Please.'
You sob. 'I love you, Newt. I love you.'

The sound of the gunshot is nothing compared to the feeling of your heart tearing in two.

You wake up, covered in sweat, your breath coming out in desperate gasps. Out of instinct, you reach across the bed for him, for his comforting warmth, and when you find nothing but cold, hostile sheets, you drop your head into your hands. He's not here, he's not safe, he's not with you.

Because you killed him.

You murdered him, you pulled the trigger as you stared him in the eyes. You watched the spark of life falter in his gaze before it winked out, and it was your fault. It was you that sent that bullet into his brain, and you have the pure presumptuousness to still live?

The moonlight is cold as it falls like a relentless waterfall down your blankets. You remember sitting in his arms, both of you wrapped up in the same blanket, your necks craned to stare up at the stars. You remember how beautiful he'd looked, his eyes bright and shining as he beheld them, his lips slightly parted as he ran his thumb over your knuckles, your head leaning on his shoulder as you spoke of what your lives would be after you escaped the Maze.

Neither of you ever even considered that you'd be torn from each other's arms.

Neither of you ever even considered that you'd be the one to kill him.

Back then, you'd taken it for granted. The precious, fickle breath in his lungs like the flutter of a butterfly's wings, the soft, enticing warmth pulsing under his angel's skin, the soothing sound of his voice, the very life blood singing through him, all for granted. You wish you'd savoured it more, you wish you'd pressed your hand over his thrumming heart every night and felt it pushing up under your palm, but you hadn't.

You hadn't, and now he's gone.

You will never have the chance to see him again. You'll never have the chance to witness that smile again, never have the chance to kiss those lips and reach out to interlock your fingers with those rough, calloused ones; never again will you fit your head in the space between his shoulder and his chin and enjoy the safety you felt in his embrace. Never, because he's gone. He's not here any more; his life was ripped away from him with a simple pull of a trigger and the harsh momentum of metal through bone and flesh.

All because of you.

You feel like you can't live with this, can't live with his blood all over you, and yet your heart beats away, stubborn and wilful when his stuttered to a halt with barely a protest.

You stare up at the sky, your eyes shining with tears. You wish he could have seen this, the serenity and peace here. He would have loved it. He would have kissed the tips of your ears and laughed when you wrinkled your nose at his playful nips on your skin, he would have hugged you tight and made sure you felt as if he would never let go.

Your voice is dwarfed by the dark.

'I loved you, Newt. I still love you.'