WICKED games (Newt x female reader) [COMPLETED]

17

Hey! So remember how I said I was doing this all by memory? Well, good news is that I found a summary sheet of the Maze Runner book, so now I have a guide! It doesn't have any of the actual dialogue though, so that part is still just from my brain. Apologies for the inevitable mistakes!

"I think," I say, trying to remain calm, "I think we should put her in the slammer."

"What?!" Thomas shoots to his feet, but Alby puts a hand on his shoulder, holding him back. "Why?! She hasn't done anything! You can't blame her for the doors not closing!"

"Thomas," Alby says, "she admitted it herself! She triggered the Ending, whatever that is. How can we not blame her?"

"Alby," I say curtly, tossing him my keys, "can you take care of her?"

He nods, leading Teresa away by the arm.

"Y/N) what-?" Thomas begins but I hold up a hand.

"Not now, Thomas," I walk off towards the homestead, we'll all be sleeping inside tonight.

I round the corner of the Deadheads to see the Glade a hive of activity, boys hurrying everywhere carrying supplies, making barricades over the doors and boarding up windows and gaps in the homestead.

I look around, then spot Newt by the box hole barking orders to a group of Gladers who hurry to do what they're told. He sees me and limps over, placing a hand on my shoulder.

"Hey, are you alright?"

"Yeah," I lie, "why?" He shrugs, and I continue to survey the Glade. "I'm guessing you got all this going?"

"Yeah, thought it better to keep everyone busy."

"Shuck, I should make you leader! You're sure doing a better job than me," I say ruefully, rubbing my forehead with one hand.

"Nah," Newt shakes his head, "now get over there and help out."

"Sir, yes, sir." I mock salute, heading towards a group at the South Door and picking up a hammer as I go.

Over the next hour, we manage to erect weak, clumsy fences across all four doors, as well as gathering all flashlights in the homestead. I catch a glimpse of Minho lugging weapons and tools that could be used as weapons over as well, the plan seems to be to make the homestead our fortress.

Everyone is tense and on edge as we cram into the building, taking up whatever weapon we can and a torch if we manage to get one. Frypan has made a stock pile of all the non-perishable foods, but none of us feel like eating.

We wait, people talking softly. Although there hasn't been any actual change in the dim grey lighting, it somehow feels darker, crammed together with the gaps in the windows our only way of seeing out. We organised for any blankets and pillows to be distributed through the different rooms, with people being split into groups too.

I find myself leaning on the bed between Minho and Alby, Newt and Thomas facing us with their backs to the wall.

"Well," Newt murmurs, "this is the closest I've come to hanging it all up. Shuck it and kiss a Griever goodnight. Grey skies, supplies cut, doors not closing. But we can't give up, and we all know it. The buggers who put us here either want us dead or are giving us a spur, but either way we gotta work our arses off till we're either dead or not dead."

"So inspirational," I remark dryly.

"Glad you think so," Newt replies, undeterred. I glace at Alby, the guy looks bloody depressed.

"Alby?" Minho asks, and Alby lifts his head. "You gonna pitch in?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah. But guys, you've seen what happens at night. Just because Greenie the shuck super-boy made it out doesn't mean we all can." What has gotten into him? He's a bit grouchy at the best of times, but this is something else.

"I agree with Thomas and Newt," Minho leans forward, rubbing his hands together, "we gotta quit boohooing and feeling sorry for ourselves."

"Hm," I nod, "first thing tomorrow, we're assigning a team to study the maps full time while the runners are out."

"We can pack our bags with more stuff this time," Thomas adds, "maybe stay out a few days."

"What? What do you mean days?" Alby asks incredulously and Minho, Thomas and I nod. 

"I mean days." Thomas continues. "With no sunset and the doors not closing, there isn't any point in coming back here. This is our chance to stay out and see if anything opens up when the walls move, if they still move."

"No way," Alby shakes his head, "no way, Minho. We can't ask people to freaking go out there and die! Who'd volunteer for that?"

"I would," Minho counters.

"I would," Thomas backs up Minho. 

"I would," I add.

"So would I." Newt says.

"With your leg?" I ask, "No way."

Newt frowns at the floor. "I just don't feel good asking Gladers to do things if I'm not bloody willing to do it myself."

"Whatever," Alby shrugs, leaning his head back against the bed behind us, "do what you want."

"What I want?" Newt fires, standing up. "What's wrong with you, man? Are you telling me we have a choice? Should we just sit around on our butts and wait to be snuffed by the Grievers? And," he adds, "in case you've forgotten, you're not the shuck leader. (Y/N) is."

"Newt," I say wearily, "just sit down." He does so, still glaring at Alby.

"It sure sounds better than running to them." The second in command sighs, not the least bit affected by Newt's reprimanding.

"Bloody hell," I say, "Alby what's gotten into you? You gotta start talking reason."

"I'm... sorry guys," He rubs his face, looking around at us. "All this weirdness, the stuff about the ending, it's got me screwed up. Newt, you should be second in command, not me."

"Oh bloody-" Newt starts but Alby cuts him off.

"I'm not saying we should switch or anything, I just think that you and (Y/N), all of you, are better at making decisions together, without my shuck input. I don't trust myself. So... yeah, I'll do whatever."

"Uh..." I say, looking from Newt to Alby, "ok, we'll make that work."

Newt chews the inside of his mouth, as he's unsure. "Yeah," he says eventually, "you know what, Alby you should be in charge of the maps. Get everyone studying those things as soon as tomorrow comes."

"Works for me," I say, shrugging.

"It was dumb of us to sleep in here tonight," Alby states and we look at him, confused. "We should have been in the maps room, working."

"That's the smartest thing that's come out your mouth in a while," Thomas remarks, grinning. "You're probably right."

"Actually," Alby continues, an odd excitement lighting up his features, "I'll go. Now."

I shake my head. "No, Alby forget it. you can already hear those shuck Grievers out there, wait until morning."

"No, you shanks are the ones giving me pep talks, don't start whining when I actually listen. If I'm gonna do this, be the old me, I need something to dive into." He stands up. "Seriously, I need this." He moves towards the door as if he actually means to leave.

"Alby, you can't be serious, come back here!" I say.

"I'm going," he puts his hand on the door, "and that's that."

Then he leaves.