The Maze Runner Imagines/Preferences

Meeting

yO this is the updated version and I still suck at writing bye

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Thomas:

It had become a morning routine, really. She always walked in at 8 a.m precisely, for the same cup of coffee that she always asked for. She never seemed to be in a rush, as if she knew exactly how long it would take for her to finish her usual cup of coffee, with an occasional chat or two with Newt.

Newt was never late. Every day, at 7:58 a.m, he would be standing at the counter, waiting for her to walk up to him, mumbling her order quietly.

Newt would look back at Thomas, who had already begun preparing her coffee. He had her order committed to memory, but he loved hearing her voice. Her quiet, tired voice that contrasted with her ripped black jeans and flannels.

Newt would hand her, her cup of coffee, before she proceeded to take a seat at one of the many empty seats scattered around the shop. She never seemed to notice the constant stares and flickering gazes that Thomas sent her way as she scrolled through her phone.

"Stalking isn't cool, Tommy." A hand clamped down on his shoulder. "Just talk to her."

Rolling his eyes, he would shrug, causing Newt's hand to fall from his shoulder. "Can't exactly do that when you're the one taking her fucking order every morning," he mumbled bitterly.

"Talk to her."

A small sigh fell from Thomas' lips, before he stepped out from behind the counter, quietly making his way towards the girl who seemed almost obsessed with flannels.

"Hi," he squeaked out softly, wiping his sweaty palms (HIS PALMS ARE SWEATY KNEES WEAK ARMS ARE HEAVY bYE) on the back of his denim blue jeans, his baby blue boxers peeking out from the top.

Her eyes caught his as soon as she had looked up. A small smile spread across her lips.

"Hi."

Minho:

Who was this girl that was trying to snatch the last limited copy of the sixth volume of the Adventure Time comics out of his hands?

She seemed just as determined to walk away with the book, head held high with pride as if saying 'hey! I just won a tug-of-war battle against a nerd! check out this sick comic I got!' He almost snorted at the thought, chuckling to himself.

"Girls don't read comics," snarled Minho, tugging harder on the book. "You should let go of the book before you rip it."

But she only pulled harder, convinced that this douchebag guy with great hair was just as weak as the term nerd made him look, despite the fact that he was quite buff and she was quite intimidated.

"If anything, you would be the one to rip the book, considering you saw me grab the comic off the shelf. Thanks for tackling me, by the way; puts some excitement in my life," she countered, annoyance laced in her voice.

And did the book rip?

No, because this wasn't some cliché face-off. This was life-or-death; the store clerk was sure one of them would die if they didn't get the comic.