description - Part 2 of this imagine
After crying with Newt, you felt oddly relieved, like a weight you didn't even know you carried had been lifted off your shoulders. He brought you such a sense of comfort, even if he didn't say much. Though you knew the nightmares wouldn't go away that quickly, you were beginning to consider taking him up on his offer and actually wake him up if they got so bad you couldn't stand them.
That evening, the whole community of Immunes got together and threw a bonfire. It took you back to your days in the Glade when you and Newt would get drunk on Gally's secret recipe - you never did find out what he put in that drink of his.
The bonfire was nice, to say the least. Although it was much more crowded than the ones you were used to, everyone you talked to was friendly enough. You hadn't really gotten around to socializing with everyone, however. You just couldn't find it in yourself to bounce back as quickly after everything you'd gone through.
You settled with watching everyone amuse themselves from the side. Eventually, Minho found you, a cup of spirits in his hand. He sat down beside you and handed you his drink, which you gladly downed. It was slightly more sour than you thought it'd be.
"Did Gally make this?" you asked.
"Yeah, and it tastes like piss."
"Of course you'd know what that tastes like," you teased. Minho swatted playfully at your head.
"So, Newt told me you keep having nightmares," he said, taking the alcohol from you. "How come?"
You bit the inside of your cheek, sighing. "Newt wasn't exactly supposed to go run his mouth off about it." You rested your elbows on your knees and shook your head. "They're not a big deal."
"They sure sound like it." Minho nudged you. "You got nothing to worry about. We made it. We're okay."
"Yeah, I guess." Still, you always felt uneasy. There was always a lingering dread coursing through your veins. "But after all we went through, you can't really blame me for feeling... off."
"You're right." He stared off into the distance, and broke out into a smile. "Look, I see your boyfriend."
You looked to see where Minho was pointing at, and wished you hadn't. You did indeed see Newt, but with him were a bunch of girls from Group B - girls you were never able to tolerate. From the moment everyone had reached Paradise, they'd set their eyes on Newt. You couldn't really blame them - Newt was indeed a catch - but he was yours. After everything you'd endured for his sake, they were not allowed to waltz in and try to sink their claws in him.
A rush of anger overwhelmed you, followed by more dread.
"Am I allowed to kill them?" you asked in a steady voice.
Minho raised an eyebrow. "You want to kill them because they're talking to Newt?"
"No, I want to kill them because their hands are touching him in places they shouldn't be touching." You hated seeing those stupid girls run their fingers over his arms - the arms that held you every night when you went to sleep.
"You're right," Minho said. "I think you should go over there and give them a piece of your mind."
You looked at him suspiciously. "You're just in it for the laughs, aren't you?"
"Yeah, baby. I can't wait to see you destroy them."
You got up, shaking your head in disdain, and walked over to where Newt and the girls from Group B were standing. His eyes lit up when he saw you, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you close to his chest.
"I'm hungry," you said. "Come eat with me."
"We'll come too," one of the girls said. You gave her a look-over; she was pretty with brown hair and eyes so blue you could've sworn they held an entire ocean. She was beautiful, to say the least, and it made you very anxious.
You gave Newt a pointed look as if urging him to dismiss the girls, but he didn't seem to get it.
All of you went by the fire, filling up your plates with Frypan's food. Newt sat on a log and you were about to join him, when almost instantly, his admirers from Group B flocked beside him like geese. Like really stupid geese. The brown-haired one who'd intimidated you with her looks before gave Newt the most adoring look, like he was the epitome of perfection. Which he was. But only you were allowed to look at him that way.
You couldn't believe it. You and Newt survived in the Maze, survived in the Scorch, and even managed to get through WICKED lying to him about being infected with the Flare. And now, you were going to lose him to some dumb girls.
No, you couldn't think like that. Newt cared more about you than anyone else. He loved you. You were his world; he'd told you that many times before. You were the one who saved him from himself, who gave him back his sanity, who believed in him even when he didn't.
He was yours. No one could take that from you.
"Move over," you told the pretty brunette.
She stared at you with a look of disgust in her eyes. "This spot's taken," she said. "Go find somewhere else to sit."
Newt's eyes darkened. He tensed and put his plate down. In a swift move, he pulled you down onto his lap, pressing his lips to yours fervently, as if to make a point to everyone who was watching. You smiled against his lips and ran your free hand through his blond hair, bringing him closer to you.
When you broke apart and saw the girls' reactions, you were pleased. They knew they stood no chance, not with the way Newt looked at you, not with the way he'd kissed you, not with the way he loved you.
"Beat it," you told the girls. They obeyed, walking away with their tails between their legs like kicked puppies. Even the brunette couldn't find it in her to mouth off to you.
Newt laughed once they were out of sight.
"Thank you," he said. "They were starting to get on my bloody nerves."
"Yeah? Glad I saved you, then."
He smiled and kissed you again, just as lovingly. "You always do."