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Tmr Newt - Blog Posts
Happy birthday to Thomas Brodie Sangster ❤️❤️❤️
"I kept quiet so I could keep you" newt I know that's you
Vince: Ok, kids, We’ll be working around the Safe Haven today, so split into groups of two
Thomas: Rock, paper, siccor, winner gets Newt!
Newt:
Thomas and Minho: *doing rock, papaer, siccor*
Based on a true story
if this was not jealousy then im queen elizabeth
#jealous boyfie
tbh the maze runner cast is just a bunch of hotties I mean, the ivy trio? hot. teresa? goddamn pretty. brenda, harriet? girlboss ofmg. sonya, aris? BI PANIC
anyways I'm a whore
Alby: My mum is calling, everyone shut up! *picks up phone* Hello?
Chuck: hiiii
Winston: *banging on various things*
Frypan: EVERYTHING IS ON FIRE!
Minho: *starts making sex noises*
Newt: *screeching*
Thomas: AYE! PASS THE WEED!
Gally: PUT YOUR PANTS BACK ON!
Always
Newt (Maze Runner) x Reader
Fluff
Summary: Newt and reader having a moment to themselves where they feel safe together
The sun had started to sink beyond the maze walls, casting the Glade in a warm, golden glow. Shadows stretched long across the ground, softening the harsh edges of their surroundings and bathing everything in a warm light. You and Newt had found a quiet moment, away from the chaos and the routine of the Glade, to just be.
He had his arm around you as you both sat in the soft grass, leaning against the sturdy trunk of a tree near the edge of the forest. A gentle breeze tugged at the wild curls of his hair, and he absentmindedly ran a hand through it, his eyes drifting dreamily along the distant horizon.
“Feels like we’re on top of the world, doesn’t it?” you murmured, breaking the silence with a soft, contented sigh. You nestled closer to him, resting your head on his shoulder.
Newt looked down at you, his eyes alight with a warmth that made your heart flutter. “With you here, love,” he said, voice tender, “we might as well be.”
You laughed softly, nudging his shoulder. “That’s corny, even for you.”
But he just grinned, unbothered, letting his hand fall to trace gentle patterns along your arm. His touch was light, calming, grounding you in a way only Newt could. It was as if the whole world faded away, leaving only this small, perfect moment with him.
As you both watched the sky darken and the first stars appear, he shifted to look at you more closely. “I know this place isn’t much,” he started, a bit hesitant. “But… I want you to know that with you, even the Glade feels like somewhere special.”
You felt your cheeks flush, warmth blossoming in your chest. He was like that—always making you feel like you were someone irreplaceable, like you were everything to him. You lifted a hand, brushing a lock of hair from his face, letting your fingers linger along his jaw. “It’s you that makes it special for me, too,” you said softly. “No place could ever be too dark, not with you in it.”
For a moment, he looked at you in that way he sometimes did, the way that made you feel like there was nothing else he saw. His fingers intertwined with yours, holding your hand firmly as if he’d never let go.
“Promise me,” he whispered, voice carrying an unspoken worry, as if something beyond your view haunted him. “No matter what happens… you’ll be here, with me.”
You gave him a smile, squeezing his hand. “Newt... we can't guarantee—"
He lifted your chin ever so gently, cutting you off. "Promise me."
"Always."
He took your hand and brought it to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles, his eyes lingering on yours with something deeper—a quiet understanding. A silent promise.
And for that moment, everything felt whole. You knew there would be dark days and shadows still to come, but as long as you had this, as long as you could hold onto each other, it was enough.
Yet, somewhere in his gaze, you thought you caught a fleeting hint of something—fear, perhaps, or the kind of acceptance only seen in someone who understood that some things, no matter how much love could try to hold them, couldn’t last forever.
Ink.
Newt x reader
Angst
summary: In his last moments of clarity, Newt writes a letter to you, fearing the end as the Flare tightens its grip on his mind, but clinging to the memory of your voice.
note: this is my first time posting my writing (this was my first work that I saved in my notes app so please go easy, but do drop a comment so I know how and where to work on it)
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The paper trembles in his grip, its edges curling under the weight of the words he can't yet bring himself to write. The air feels heavy, thick with the staleness of a room too quiet, too still, like a space that has forgotten the sounds of life. He stares at the blank page, the ink from his pen bleeding softly into the grain as if it too is hesitant, afraid to stain the white with what it knows must come.
Outside, the wind howls low, a distant cry through the cracked window, but it’s your voice that haunts the silence. Not in words. No, it’s the rhythm of your laughter echoing in the back of his mind, the way it used to fill the room so effortlessly. He can still feel the ghost of your breath against his skin, cool and soft, like the first morning dew settling on a world that didn’t deserve it.
But now the warmth is gone, swept away by the creeping coldness that wraps tighter around his thoughts. The Flare, slow and cruel, coils itself deeper inside him, dragging every memory of you through a haze until your face becomes just a shadow behind his eyes. His hand jerks, trembling against his will, ink splattering onto the page like a wound freshly opened.
He should stop. Let you go before the disease takes even that—takes you from him, in the only way he has left to hold onto you.
But he can’t. Not yet.
His fingers trace the outline of your name, barely pressing down on the pen, as if he can somehow carve your presence into the moment without breaking it. He swallows against the knot in his throat, but it’s not sorrow—it’s the fear of forgetting what it felt like to have you close, to feel your hand slipping into his when words failed you both.
His chest tightens, not with pain, but with the unbearable lightness of the memories that float just beyond his reach now. The smell of the earth beneath your feet when you would walk together after the sun had sunk below the horizon, your whispered thoughts lost to the darkness around you both, shared in the space between breaths.
That’s what he’s fighting to keep, what the Flare threatens to strip away—those moments when the world fell away, and it was just you.
The pen presses harder now, the ink running in uneven lines, as though time itself is pushing him forward, rushing him to finish before he loses the strength to. The words don’t come in sentences; they are fragments, bursts of thoughts too fragile to be held together. But you will understand. You always did.
He writes of the way the sound of your voice held him together when everything else fell apart, of how your presence was the one light he chased even as the darkness grew inside him. He writes of the end, not in fear, but in the simple acceptance of what is to come, because you would want him to be honest, not heroic.
And as the ink dries, his vision blurs—not from tears, no, those dried long ago—but from the soft haze of a mind slowly unraveling. He folds the letter, pressing it to his lips, the faint taste of paper and ink bitter against his skin, a poor imitation of the warmth he remembers from you.
He leaves it on the table, a final goodbye.
Before the Flare takes him too.
𝘔𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵
started: 18/10/24
Marvel
Maze Runner
Hunger Games
Harry Potter
Note: I write for PostAzkaban!Sirius Black and Professor!Remus Lupin (not in the marauders era, because there just aren’t enough people who write about the older men)
Fantastic Beasts
Star Wars
Top Gun
Divergent
Disney/Pixar (animations)
Other movies
(will be consistently monitored and updated, hang tight)