IT STARTED WITH A MAZE - Newt x Reader (F)

- A NIGHT IN THE MAZE -

We keep running, faster and faster. Vines whip out from the Maze's walls, thick and unyielding. One snakes around Thomas's ankle, pulling him toward the ground. He stumbles, nearly falling.

I yank at the vine with all my strength, freeing him, but the Maze itself is fighting us. The walls groan and shift beneath our feet, reshaping, closing in like the jaws of a trap. I risk a glance behind me, searching for the beast - and suddenly, I crash into something solid.

"(Y/n)?" A voice says urgently.

Strong arms grab me, pulling me close before I hit the ground. "Holy shit, Minho," I gasp, my breath shaking. I hold him closer to me as if to hug him yet he is already moving again.

"No time," Minho says, voice tight. "We gotta keep moving." He grabs my wrist to pull me with him. "Come on, Greenie!" The three of us burst into a desperate sprint through the twisting, shifting corridors. My legs feel like they're on fire, lungs burning, but adrenaline drives me forward. Ahead, Minho shouts, "This section's about to shift!"

I see the walls grinding and folding, ready to snap its teeth shut. Minho and I run forward, sprinting towards the next corridor that promises safety. Yet it is only the two of us there. "Thomas!" I call, spotting him waiting behind, his eyes blazing with fierce determination.

He is taunting the Griever, daring it to follow.

The creature roars - a horrific, predatory sound that shakes the stone around us - and lunges after Thomas. He yells, pushing every ounce of strength into the sprint, the Griever is almost on top of him. Minho's voice cuts through the chaos, loud and urgent, "HURRY!" I'm shouting too, the stress and fear overwhelming. The stone presses nearer together. For a moment I don't think Thomas will make it. I imagine him being crushed between the moving rock.

And then his form is crashing against mine. Whilst the Griever didn't quite make the sprint.

The beast's body convulses, then shudders violently before the shifting stones crush it beneath their weight.

I lean back against the cold wall, panting uncontrollably, heart pounding so hard I think it might burst. "You killed it," I whisper, disbelief and relief flooding through me like a tidal wave. Minho urges us by grabbing our shirts, already moving forward. Although I know that he is also freaking out about Thomas' actions. My mind races, stuck on my words as we vanish deeper into the Maze's endless darkness.

It's alive all around us, its walls grinding and groaning, threatening to swallow us whole. The adrenaline surges through me, but suddenly, in a blink of moving walls, I get separated from Thomas and Minho.

I stumble into a narrower corridor, the shifting walls behind me muffling the sounds of their footsteps. The heavy pounding of the Griever fades into the distance, but the silence that follows feels just as dangerous.

Dawn is breaking - soft, pale light filtering through cracks above, casting long, eerie shadows that stretch across the stone floor. Something shiny catches my eye. I crouch down and lean closer.

It's a scalpel.

My scalpel - the one I'd dropped earlier, slick and sharp, gleaming cold in the faint light. I pick it up carefully, heart hammering. Holding it feels like a small victory, a reminder of control in this chaos. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I see something else - something shiny and fast. A beetle.

No- another Beetle Blade.

It scuttles swiftly from the wall behind a low curtain of vines, metallic and alive. My breath catches. Obviously I remember what Alby said about these things - the potential eyes and ears of the Maze, always watching. I crouch low and reach out, trying to grab it. It has become stationary - almost like it wants me to catch it. But it changes its mind. My fingers swipe at the air, and instead of catching the beetle, I hit something cold and metallic.

A grate.

I pull the vines aside cautiously. Beneath them, a metal vent embedded into the stone wall, its surface dotted with tiny holes. The Maze is more than just stone and vines - there's something underneath, hidden, watching.

A distant roar shakes the corridor.

My heart spikes. There is no time to linger. I tuck the scalpel away, slide the vines back in place, and move quickly, eyes darting.

Moments later, I spot Thomas and Minho up ahead, waiting anxiously near a dark corner. Relief floods me. "Thank God," Thomas breathes as I approach.

"Though we lost you," Minho breathes. He glances around us, sensing that the Griever's may be gone now but could return at any moment. "We have to get Alby down," he says urgently.

We move together to where Alby hangs, weakened and barely conscious, tied up high in the vines. With careful effort, we lower him, his body limp in our arms.

The weight is heavier than I expected, but none of us complain.

We haul Alby once more between the three of us as the Maze groans behind us. The walls grind and shift, but our eyes are fixed on the one goal: the doors that have opened by now, the promise of safety just beyond the crushing stone.

Then, through the dim light, I spot familiar figures - Chuck, Winston, and Fry, their backs turned from the Maze and walking away. "Hey!!" I yell, my voice raw and cracked from desperation. It cuts through the growing chaos.

Heads snap around. More boys run forward, yet my stare locks with the one at the front.

Newt.

His eyes widen in disbelief, then soften with relief.

"They made it!" someone shouts.

"They're back!"

A surge of screams, cheers, and frantic calls erupt around us like a sudden storm breaking. We cross the threshold - out of the Maze and into the glorious space of the Glade. Thomas and Minho collapse beside Alby, panting and drained, their faces pale but alive.

I can barely stand. My knees buckle, but I don't collapse onto the ground. I fall against Newt, who had arms that were open and ready for me. The two of us haven't hugged before. it's not something you do with people you just meet, or even randomly for that matter. Nevertheless he manages to steady my shaking body. "You're here," he whispers close, his voice low and steady.

I feel as if the chaos, the fear, the unbearable weight of the Maze all fall away. My world centers around this single truth: he, too, is here. That is something very real. My body trembles against his, a mixture of exhaustion and something deeper - hope, comfort, something I didn't realize I needed until now.

The flood of questions re-enters my ears. They're quick, sharp, anxious. But only one breaks above the noise: "Did you see a Griever?" Gally demands, eyes burning with suspicion and dread.

"Yeah," Thomas answers, his voice steady but exhausted. "We saw one."

Minho's chest rises and falls with heavy breaths as he adds, "He didn't just see it. He killed the damn thing." The boys go silent for a heartbeat, then chaos swells again - fear, disbelief, relief all mingling in the air.

They're all looking at us like we're crazy.

I mean, we did just survive a night in the maze.

~