what if used that on lights at the tbs show they met at

Catch You

Thrice- Come All You Weary

Newt can’t help but worry when you experience a near death fall…

“I’m tellin’ you Y/N,” Gally scoffed. “You’re not gonna be able to make it up to the top of those vines.”

“How much do you wanna bet shuck face?” I glared. Gally was oil and I was water. No way in bloody hell were we gonna be friends.

“If you make it to the top, I have to build you a new bed.”

Ooh’s and ah’s spread like wildfire through the crowd surrounding us, Minho grinning in particular. He was the only one who actually enjoyed when Gally and I bickered, thanking us for giving him a free show.

“But if you lose,” Gally smirked. “We have to play 7 minutes in heaven together.”

“You’re on,” I huffed confidently. Knowing Gally, he’d probably be able to take advantage of me within 3 minutes.  

As I was about to follow him to the vines, Newt grabbed me by my arm and gave me a warning look.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he asked almost demandingly.

“Making Gally swallow his words?” I chuckled nervously, confused at why he was acting so weird. “I’m not gonna fall Newt. I’m okay.”

“Please don’t. I- I don’t want to see anyone get hurt.” Giving him a warm smile, I patted him on the back and walked to where the boys were.

When we took our starting positions in front of the wall, I noticed out of the corner of my that Thomas and Minho were holding Newt back by his arms, as he had a pained look on his face.

“Ready,” Frypan counted down. “Set. Go!”

Some of the boys were cheering for Gally while others were encouraging me to ignore them. Whatever right?

Just as I was about to reach the top, Gally decided to tear a vine that was coincidentally connected to the one I was climbing. The last thing I remember was a shooting pain in my ankle before I went out like a Christmas light.  

“Y/N!” Someone shouted. “Get her down from there!”

“Get Clint!” another yelled.

“Is she going to be okay?”

“She’ll be fine Newt. Just a broken ankle- all it is really.”

“You promise?”

“Have I ever lied to you?”

“When is she going to-”

“If you don’t calm down, I’m going to have to put you in bedrest for a week.”

Sighing in defeat, he sat down next to me, entwining his fingers through mine.

“Ugh…” I groaned. “What happened?”

“Gally pulled a vine and you dropped. Wouldn’t have made it if you hadn’t caught your ankle on one of ‘em.” Newt grimaced, remembering Y/N’ s distinct scream.

“Newt, are you okay?” I asked wearily, recognizing the angst in his voice.

“You think I’m bloody alright after the stunt Gally pulled? You’re moving into my hut starting next week. You’d think that after the trick he pulled a few weeks ago in the changing rooms he’d-”

“Newt!” I snapped. “What’s going on? Why are you so stressed out? I just fractured my ankle. It could’ve happened to anyone.”

Pausing from his pacing, he breathed out and sat next down next to me.

“The reason I didn’t want you to climb up the wall involved an- accident that happened a while back.”

Staring into his deep brown eyes, I widened at the realization of what he was talking about.

“Oh Newt…” I sighed, tears welling into my eyes.

Taking his hands into mine, I let him cry as well.

“Everyone knows why I have this bloody limp,” he muffled through his tears. “I was in a bad place, I didn’t have anyone, I was lonely- then you came along. My  sun. My lullaby. My light. My Y/N.”

Wiping the tears from his eyes, I held his face in my hands as our lips met in a desperate embrace.

“I thought I lost you…” he sobbed.

“Newt,” I said teary eyed while bringing him into a tight hug. “No matter where you are, what mood you’re in, or how far away we are from each other, I will always be with you. Sorry to spoil it, but you’re not getting rid of me. I’ll always be here to catch you if you fall.”

Grinning with that amazing smile, he climbed into the bed with me and began combing through my hair with his comforting hands.

“I love you…” he said while softly kissing the top of my head.

“I love you too Newt…” I smiled, falling asleep to the sound of his heartbeat.

Part 2

Request: @huntermichelle

‘Can you make a short series with this theme, where Thomas then continues to pretend to be your boyfriend in public but then actually starts to like you and eventually falls for you?’

A/N: This is Part 2, the last part of this request. I would definitely recommend that your read Part 1 here first, but if you don’t that’s fine 😃

Pairing: Thomas Brodie Sangster x Reader

Word Count: 785

Warnings: None

Nervously awaiting Thomas backstage, I chip at my recently painted nails, my face hot beneath my natural makeup. ‘The Scorch Trials’ convention starts in an hour, and he was meant to meet me about ten minutes ago. Eventually, he bursts into the room, looking slightly dishevelled. His light blonde hair is messier than usual, and his dark coloured shirt is wrinkled.

“Sorry I’m late, love!” he says breathlessly. My mouth quirks to the side at the nickname.

“No worries” I reply. We quickly go over our plan. Yesterday, Tom kissed me to protect me from the questions of my friends about why I didn’t have a boyfriend, and I decided that our only option was to continue pretending that we’re dating, at least for a few days.

Half an hour later, we ready ourselves to go over our plan. He takes my hand, the calluses on his palm rubbing slightly against my skin and sending shivers up my spine. Once again, I wish our actions weren’t just for show, and that Thomas really did like me. It’s a stupid thing to hope for, but I can’t help it.
The crowd, mainly excited teenage girls, cheer when we walk on stage together. Unlike usual, the majority of their questions are directed at us instead of Dylan and Kaya.

“Do you like Y/N a lot?” asks one fan. Blushing, I turn to Thomas, awaiting his response.

“Bloody hell, how could I not? She’s absolutely gorgeous, and smart, and funny, and an amazing actress. She’s perfect!” he answers. I knew he was a good actor, but I didn’t realise he was this good! How does he make his eyes look so sincere?

At the end of the convention, Thomas and I wait outside for our taxi in the waiting bay; the rest of the cast piled into Dyl’s car and left us alone together.
“Do you want my jacket?” Thomas asks me, noticing the goosebumps on my bare arms. I shake my head, not wanting him to be cold, but he gently places it around my shoulders anyway. I smile when his warm fingers brush against my skin.

“So, the convention went well,” I say, turning to face him.

“Yeah, it did” he replies, his breath visible in the freezing air.

“You did an awesome job, pretending that you…you know. Like me”
His cheeks turn red as he turns towards me, probably from the strong wind.

“What if…” Thomas starts. He clears his throat nervously. What does he want to ask me? Questions and worries flood my mind. “What if I told you I wasn’t pretending? H-Hypothetically, I mean” he continues. My eyes widen. Is he saying what I think he is? Maybe I’m just getting my hopes up and looking for something that doesn’t exist. After all, he’s way out of my league. The question is, how do I respond to that? I screw up my courage and decide to take a leap of faith.

“Then, hypothetically, I would…I would tell you that I wasn’t pretending either, and that I really like you, and have for a long time. And then we would kiss…hypothetically”. It takes an effort to force the words from my mouth. My chest feels tight, and my knees turn to jelly as I wait for him to react. Luckily, a smile becomes plastered on his face as soon as I say the words, putting me completely at ease.

“Well then, Y/N, I wasn’t pretending when I said any of that. Love, you’re perfect. Way too perfect for me. I’m the luckiest guy in the world to even have met you”

Embarrassingly, tears well in my eyes. No one has ever said anything that kind to me before. Thomas gently wipes away my tears, taking a step towards me. I look up into his warm brown eyes, only just noticing how tall he is.

“I like you a bloody lot, Y/N” he whispers.

“Hypothetically?” I ask, making him laugh. The sound is like music to my ears, calming my pounding heart.

“No. For real” he smiles.

“Good, because I like you a bloody lot too” I whisper.

He fully closes the distance between us, his arms linking around my waist. I rise onto my tip-toes, letting my lips brush against his lightly before kissing him properly. My eyes flutter closed instinctively, only the sound of my blood rushing in my ears breaking the silence. It takes an effort for me not to groan against his lips as he traces the curve of my hip. Almost pinching myself to check if I’m dreaming, I smile widely as we break apart for air. Who would have guessed that something like this would happen?

Goodbye’s In The Morning // Chris Evans x Reader

words: 2000+

characters: Chris and You

warnings: fluff

summary: Goodbyes are sometimes just too bittersweet. (shitty summary ik, I’m sorry, I’m tryin’ to be ‘elusive’)

Chris looked at the hotel room and saw you; the most beautiful thing he’d ever be able to see on this earth.

You were radiant in the rays of sunlight that were often rare for January mornings in Boston. Nevertheless, he thanked the gods for those beams of sunlight as they glistened across your morning dew, your puffy lips from a long, well-deserved sleep with your man finally wrapped in your arms once more.

With a toothbrush sticking out of his mouth and covered only by boxer which left him chilly; he felt an overwhelming sense of joy pour into his heart as he watched you, in all your morning glory.

The thing was that; you were nothing special, in your eyes and many- possibly millions of others. You were not an actress or a singer. You didn’t excel tremendously in school or have the body that plastered the magazines and the internet, deeming them as the ‘sexy bod’s you can get in a week’ or the ‘body that she never thought she could get’. 

Well, guess what? You had rolls of fat on your stomach and you always had a hankering for chocolate. You were far from any magazine’s standard of a ‘goddess’. That didn’t mean Chris deemed you less of a goddess, far from it. 

You were his goddess. He cherished the ground you walked on, he loved the way you mismatched your bra’s and panties because you believed ‘matching bras and panties is for pornstars and people who try too hard.’

He was in love with your integrity, humor, passions, dreams, and so much more he’d lose his mind if he listed them all now.

He was just a sick puppy-man in love, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

When you love something, Chris always used to believe you could love only to a certain degree.

There’s only so much a person can give to another, right? Love was one of the most intimate things a human has, and giving that away was like taking your soul and handing it out as a flyer. Chris never wanted his heart handed out over the streets of Boston or any city he visited. He wanted it safe in his own hands, or at least in the hands of someone who he’d know would never do wrong by him. So many times, he gave his heart away. Only to find it in crumpled up forms at his doorstep a year, at most, later.

That was until he met you. Every moment Chris spent with you, he saw more and more of what true love is. It was so imperfect and upsetting, Chris loved every moment he had it, though.

You weren’t perfect, you were stubborn, moody when tired, lazy, and yet all of that could be washed away in a second. As soon as he saw you smile.

True love…

That’s holding someone’s hair back as they continued to vomit into the toilet after bad seafood.

Cleaning up the dishes while they watched a program you hated to hear blasting on the television.

Listening to you along to songs while being out of tune, and never changing the station even if it was Taylor Swift, again.

It was making sure that the car was warmed before someone got in.

That the had been coffee brewed before you’d wake up your significant other.

Watching them show their faults and quirks and never blinking an eye to any of them.

Love was unconditional and that was the best part… you didn’t have to try hard when it came to true love because it was True. Fucking. Love.

The universe made two people for each other, and they fit perfectly together. With faults, weird habits and all.

“Whatcha smirkin’ at over there, Chrispy Creme?” Shrugging, Chris got up and walked over to you laying in white fluffy sheets with a tea being nursed in your cold hands.

He felt a smile rise again to his lips when a giggle came from you watching the hotel’s television where they played a marathon of The Office. Here you were, sitting up with you legs crossed and your hair messily braided into two parts. Your sparkling, morning eyes couldn’t tear away from the television as you saw Dwight bag Meredith’s head with a bat inside it.

There was a marathon of The Office on TBS. Very much to your delight, he may add. You were a fangirl at heart. For The Office, Marvel, Disney; not to Chris’s own extent, but still considered a fangirl.

It was no secret that movies and tv were the escape you used as a child, teenager, and even now in adult life. Your childhood was not one to look back and smile about and school… well, t paid for therapist’s underground pool, let’s say that. Chris hurt to think that all those years you suffered, feeling alone and unaccepted in your tiny world in a small town that was a junkyard, to begin with. You never spoke of the people of your past anymore, never since you told Chris everything about your upbringing, clearly stating you never wanted to speak of it again. Which was understandable, but still. Chris’s heart still tightened up when he thought of you at eleven years old, sitting alone on the grass as the other kids played around with their friends and you broke grass in half, one by one, counting every tear off each strand of greenery you tore apart until the bell rang to go back inside. He wished he was there, him being his eleven-year-old self, offering you to play basketball or go on the swing sets together.

The thought of you all alone tore his heart in two. It left tears in his eyes as he faced his own reality that was slowly seeping back into his brain, sending an emotional bomb off in his chest.

He had to leave you in two hours, alone. In two hours you were going to be that eleven-year-old, stuck all alone on the playground. You were eleven with two braids split straight down the middle, in overalls and a ripped pink t-shirt, getting teased with no one to defend your honor for why you came to school with dirty on your knees and elbows. Hair greasy and shoes with holes in the soles.

“Chris… are you okay? You look like you’ve just seen something awful?” Setting the mug on the nightstand, you got to your knees and wobbly made your way across the bed and over to the man that towered over you. Ironically you seemed to be the tall one now, as tears brimmed his eyes and his hands became fidgety hanging low in front of him.

“N-no. I-I just… my flight.”

“O-oh.” Now it was your turn to become the small one, again. You felt his fingers try to hold your own but for some reason, you let them slip through as you turned around and got back into bed. Denying the fact that he was going to be gone again for two weeks. Having the time of his life while you filed paperwork for patients for the third floor of the Boston’s Child Hospital.

“Common, please… it already hurts enough that I’m leaving-”

“Well, how do you think I’m feeling then!” I burst out at him like a firecracker, lifting my head off the cold pillow that smelled like his shampoo, making me even more upset.

Chris crossed over to the bed and sunk his knees to the floor leaving on the bed with his elbows as he brushed back your bangs that covered your wide-eyed fear of seeing him take off on an airplane once again, leaving you here with nothing to come home too.

“I can’t have you hating me when I leave, Sweet Pea? I won’t. I won’t leave here, goddammit!” His tone came out more comedic than angry which made you smile a tad, letting a bit of light into Chris’s heart again just at the tug of your lips that he saw.

Your face was barely shown to him as you buried it into his pillow. Only one beautiful doe eye peeked out at Chris. Just a corner of your lips was visible, letting him see the small smile. Coming forward to rested his head on the same pillow, your noses were close enough to touch s he smiles at your pinched cheeks from the emotions running through you.

You mumbled into the pillow, pulling your face out so Chris could stroke your burning cheek gently with his fingers.

“You really wouldn’t leave if I was hating you?”  He shook his head, smiling a toothy grin,

“Not if they paid me in the billions, Peanut.” Smiling, I let my demeanor down and twisted my body to face Chris’s, I gave a weak smile that gave Chris’s eyes almost a sparkle at the sight of my small gesture of acceptance.

“What about trillions?”

“Nope, mm-hm.”


“Not gonna happen sweets. You’re worth all the gold a leprechaun could ever give me.” 

Okay, I giggled at that one. Chris saw the whites of my teeth start poking out and gave me a wide grin. Tackling me on the bed I yelped in surprise.

“There she is! There’s my girl!” I giggled as Chris kissed my peaked my face all over, finding any spot he could to cover his lips in until he settled on my own warm lips. My lips tasted like tea but overpowered by the hint of sugar, but most of all warmth. The warmth from the hot drink and now warmth from his body pressing into mine. I parted my lips and head his face back, smiling up at those blue eyes I knew I was a goner for the second I saw them reach mine.

“Let’s get you ready for two weeks of being Captain America again, baby.” Chris smiled down at me, cupping my right cheek with his large hand. “It’s a press tour, babe. I’m not gonna be in my suit or anythin’.”

“I know, but the world is gonna be seeing their Cap after a long time. They’ve missed seeing their hero for so long. I know I do, even when you leave for just two weeks.”

He looked taken aback but held back the emotion that was ablaze in his eyes, “I’m your hero.”

“Of course you are! You’re not just my hero, you’re my best friend and the love of my life… even if you weren’t Cap, you’d still be my hero, Baby.” Sniffling, he leaned down and kissed my nose softly, yet lingering for a longer time before finally, pulling himself away which looked like a struggle throughout his whole body.

“God. Can I pack you into my suitcase? Please? I mean you could fit if we leave all my clothes here…”

I gave my hero a grin and shrugged, “Why not?”

(I mean, I had to leave this! It’s Jim for goodness sake!)

A/N: Please leave feedback if you can! It means more than you think and it helps me for future stories on what you guys like and want to read more of! Love you all, thank you so much reading <3 - R .x

(masterlist here)

Keep reading

Toughen Up - Part One


  1. 16 and 18 with newt please
  2. (robbieandrewkay71) Can you have an imagine where the reader and Newt are dating, but then they got in a huge pointless argument, then newt snapped at reader for the first time and told the reader “Maybe we should break up then”. And then once they escaped the maze, reader still ignored newt, then at the end (like the battle scene with the right arm and wckd) reader gets captured again by wckd like Minho? Thank u😊


  1. 16. Cry me a river.
  2. 18. Get over it.

Warnings: none

Notes: Decided to combine these two. They mesh well!

Part Two

“Oh come on, Newt! We have to bend the rule sometimes. If we do, we’ll get out of here. Listen to Thomas for once!” You shouted at your boyfriend.

The Glade was slowly going to shit. Chaos was breaking out. Endless anarchy. The Grievers was now coming inside the Glade at night, the Doors were no longer closing, and the boys were losing their minds because of everything.

Now, since Alby was losing his mind as well, Newt was in charge. He took a stand, and took things into his own hands. Though he wasn’t too keen on bending any rules. But you knew that Thomas was right. Everyone had to make a stand by going into the Maze and getting through something called a Griever Hole. Newt wasn’t for it.

“We’re not doing it. We’ll be fine.”

“We will not be fine!” You shouted at him in anger. “Did you not hear Gally? The Grievers will take one by one until no one is left. We can’t have that happen.”

“Gally also went buggin’ crazy and jumped right onto a shuckin’ Griever!” Newt retorted.

You groaned at him, mad and upset. “You’re acting ridiculous!” 

“Oh, cry my a river.” He said sarcastically. “Get over it, Y/N. We’re doing things my way.”

“Your way is going to get us all killed, Newt! Can’t you see that? One Glader is dying each night by being taken away from those shuck monsters. Thomas and Minho agree that the way out is through that hole.”

“I’m not agreeing to it,” he huffed. He crossed his arms over his chest. Another moan rose out of you. This boy was being so stubborn. You couldn’t take it. He’d been like that for a while. Overly stubborn and temperamental. He was being ridiculous.

“You know what, Newt? Maybe we should break up.”

He snapped his head to you. “What? Don’t be bloody daft.”

“I will be ‘daft’, Newt. You’ve been acting different for a while now and I’m sick of it. You’re not the Newt I met three years ago. I’m sick of your attitude.”

You loved Newt with all you had, but with all this stress, you couldn’t handle it. You didn’t want to break up with him, but you felt like it was time to take a break. Take a break from him. It would take very little stress away, but it’d be something.

“Fine,” he strictly said. “Fine, you want to bloody break up, then fine. We’re broken up.” 

Tears brimmed your eyes even though you’re the one who brought it up. You swiftly turned around, storming out of the Homestead. You walked right up to Thomas and Minho, discussing a plan. You were breaking out of this damn place with or without Newt.


Half of the Glade left with you, Thomas, and Minho. Newt included. He finally gave in. You all escaped, but you still weren’t talking to Newt. He was your boyfriend and best friend for three years, and now you weren’t speaking to him.

Now you were all in this type of safe haven. Well, a facility controlled by WICKED. But you were fine with it. They gave you fresh clothes, a soft bed, and hot food. You also had access to a nice toilet and shower. What more could you want?

That is, until you figured out the place was bad news. The boys from your Glade sneaked out of their dorm. When they finally got your dorm, it was empty. The only evidence that proved it was your’s and Teresa’s room was that your bracelet Newt made you a while ago was on the floor.

Newt picked it up, concern washing right over him. He loved you. Of course he did. He would never stop. You made his world feel all right. You made him feel all right. And he can’t believe he let you go.

As the boys were running around the facility, they found you and Teresa with members of WICKED. They broke the both of you out, all of you running out of the place. Eventually, you all got outside into the scorching heat. And that’s when real troubles began.

“Y/N, I’m sorry. Please,” Newt begged as you guys walked about the Scorch.

You ignored him, beyond pissed off with him. You walked away from him, going next to Frypan. You didn’t want to speak to Newt at all. You didn’t want to associate with him or see him right now. Sure, you may have been acting a little over dramatic, but you didn’t care. He made you upset, and you needed to show him just how upset he made you.


A couple days in the Scorch, you ran into two Cranks. Jorge and Brenda. They decided to help you and the group through the Scorch, claiming that they knew the ins and outs of it. 

You traveled with them, fighting through obstacles. Then, you found the Right Arm. It was a group of runaways from WICKED just about. Two of the members were from Group B, which was interesting to you. Though out of everything, you still ignored Newt.

Everything was at peace for the moment. Nothing disturbing anyone. Everyone was chatting, while you just sat down and observed. Things were going right for the time being. Until WICKED showed up. They had huge weapons; Launchers. They had guns and other weapons. It was a war. People died. Both from WICKED and from the Right Arm. 

But worst of all, the people with those Launchers shot at people, electrocuting them. It was enough to weaken the person. They got Minho.

“Minho!” You shouted, running towards his body before WICKED could drag him off.

“Y/N, no!” Newt shouted, chasing after you. But he was too late. Thomas and Jorge yanked him back. You were shot with a Launcher, blue lights taking over your body. You collapsed next to Minho, deadweight. 

“Y/N!” Newt shouted at the top of his lungs. He struggled to get out of his friends’ grasps, but he failed.

“Don’t do it, kid,” Jorge told him sternly. “It’s too late. They’re gone.”

Newt watched in horror as he watched his friends and you being dragged onto a Berg. You were back in WICKED’s clutches. The Berg doors closed, it soon flying off. You were the only thing on Newt’s mind. 

“We have to get her back! We have to get all of them back!” Newt let tears dribble down his dirty cheeks. “How could I let this happen?!” He slammed around. Thomas held him still.

“Will ya stop?” He yelled at his beloved friend. “We’ll get her back; we’ll get all of them back.”

“You both sound crazy,” Jorge said, “but I’m with you both. Let’s go get our friends back, hermano.”

Newt nodded his head, calming down. He wiped his face, spreading the now wet dirt all over his face. He clutched onto the bracelet he still had. He looked at it, it being made of twine. That was it. It was made of twine with two pebbles on it. One was to represent you, the other pebble representing him. You cherished it with all your heart. Newt had to get you back, even if it killed him.