Thomas-brodie Sangster/Newt And Robbie Kay/Peter Pan Imagines

Newt x Reader: Cry For You

Requested: @Carrot_Headed

"Nuh-uh, stop it. Look at me you dipshit, you're not allowed to die, you hear me?!"

"Fuck you."
"Later. Now listen you little shit..."

The winds pick up, sand flying through the air. I hold my breath, squeezing my eyes shut. "Keep moving! Stay under the sheets!" I hear Minho somewhere in the storm.

I squint, searching around. I don't have a sheet, and I can't see anyone farther then three feet. I sigh, lovely. Picking up pace, I jog forward, hoping that I won't get lost. I try to keep my breathing shallow, not wanting to inhale any sand. Or at least as little as possible.

I find myself falling behind, not sure how I know it, but I can kinda sense it. I hear Minho speak up in the distance, "Role check! Thomas!?"

"I'm here!" I hear the brunnete call. But then everything blurs out, I can hear very muffled yells. But nothing I can make out.

Suddenly, the wind pushes me to my knees. And if I'm honest, I'm ready to give up right here. I cough up spit and sand, my teeth begin to crunch against it. "Ew..." I mumble in a hoarse voice. The wind pushes me again, and this time I'm laying on my side, coughing and hacking up sand.

"(Y/n)!" I hear a faint call. "Where are you, you shank!?" The voice rises just enough for me to make out the British accent.

Newt, why him? The one shank that hates me. Mainly for the reason that I do whatever I want and really don't give a crap about what he thinks. He tries to command me because, 'When Alby's gone I'm in charge!' But I never listen, nor do I care.

"(Y/n)!" I hear him again, he must be close because I can also hear him mumble under his breath. "You better not be dead..."

He says the most caring things in the angriest ways.

In response, I give a cough. Well... more like seven coughs. I hear footsteps kicking up sand. "(Y/n)!" His irritated voice calls once more. Squinting my eyes open, I see him run to be. He slides down on the sand. "Come on, get up! We have to keep moving!"

I try to reply, but I'm sent into another coughing fit. His arms circle my waist and he pulls me to a sitting position. I continue coughing, my throat becoming sore. "I-" I'm cut off by several more coughs and a mouthful of sand.

"Hey!" He squeezes my hips in his hold, "Hold onto me okay? I have a sheet, but we have to get up first!" I grab his biceps with a nod, he pulls me closer. "You're so stupid..." I hear him whisper.

Mixed signals who?

Nonetheless, he pulls us up. I do the best to find my balance in the raging wind, I'm pushed into him and he's pulled away from me. But we hold on the best we can. We kinda end up in this weird position where his arms are securely around me in a breathtaking hold and I'm holding onto his arms.

He starts coughing over my shoulder, I can feel his stomach tense and his chest bounce because of our closeness. Before I realize it I've nuzzled my head into Newt's chest, hiding my eyes and mouth from the sandy winds.

But he pulls away, of course, shoving me to arms length and clearing his throat. Newt scans me over, making sure there's nothing he would consider terribly wrong. Cause ya know, a few stab wounds to the left thigh and cracked rib is nothing to worry about.