Threads of Hope | A Newt x Reader Story

05

We rushed through the entrance just in time, the massive stone doors slamming shut behind us.

A familiar thrill ran through me as I bent over, hands on my knees, catching my breath. Another day, another run. But that crack in the wall lingered in my mind. Something was changing. 

𓇢𓇢𓇢𓇢𓇢𓇢𓇢𓇢𓇢𓇢𓇢𓇢

The air was thick with the smell of sweat, earth, and the lingering scent of dinner. My body ached, my arms lined with fresh scrapes from an unexpected stumble in the Maze. Nothing serious—just part of the job. But the dull throbbing in my ribs told me I had probably hit the ground harder than I thought.

I made my way to the Med-jack hut, brushing past a few Gladers still finishing up their evening chores. The sun had just dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in deep shades of violet and orange.

Inside the hut, Jeff was already waiting, rummaging through supplies. The place smelled like herbs, sweat, and whatever alcohol they used to clean wounds. "Let me guess," Jeff said without looking up, "Maze got a little too friendly with you today?"

I scoffed, hopping onto the wooden table. "You could say that."

He finally turned, eyeing the scratches on my arms before reaching for a damp cloth. "Any dizziness? Blurred vision?"

"Nope."

"Pain?"

"Nothing I can't handle."

Jeff hummed in approval before dabbing at the cuts. I winced as the antiseptic burned into my skin. Just another day in the Glade.

I heard the door creak open, and a familiar voice filled the room. "You alright, love?"

I turned to see Newt leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, his expression unreadable but his tone carrying something close to concern.

"Yeah, just some scratches. Nothing major."

Newt let out a small breath, stepping inside. Over the past year, we had grown closer, learning to depend on each other when things got rough. He was someone I could trust, someone who understood what it meant to survive here.

Jeff glanced between us with mild amusement before setting his supplies down. "Ribs too?"

I hesitated, pressing my fingers lightly against my side. A sharp sting shot through me. "Probably just a bruise."

Jeff raised a brow. "Shirt off. Gotta check."

I blinked, suddenly very aware of Newt's presence just a few feet away. He stiffened, shifting his weight, but his face was carefully neutral.

"Right now?" I asked, my voice betraying a hint of embarrassment.

Jeff gave me an unimpressed look. "Not like I haven't patched up half the Glade. Hurry up."

I sighed, rolling my eyes, and reached for the hem of my shirt. Before I could lift it, Newt abruptly turned on his heel, facing the opposite wall. "Bloody hell, warn a guy first," he muttered, running a hand through his hair.

Jeff snorted, amused. "What's the matter, Newt? Shy?"

Newt scoffed. "Just trying to be a gentleman, unlike you, Jeff."

I smirked as I pulled my shirt off, wincing as the movement stretched my sore muscles. Jeff wasted no time, pressing against my ribs with practiced fingers. I sucked in a sharp breath when he hit a particularly tender spot.

"Bruised, but nothing cracked," Jeff confirmed. "You'll be fine in a few days. Just don't go throwing yourself at the ground again."

"Noted," I muttered.