Maze Runner Preferences (Requests Open)

They Write You a Love Letter-Pary 1 (The Girls)

Sonya(The Spring:Either:Your P.O.V)
I should feel something when I wake up in the mornings. I should care about how I’m trapped in an endless prison or be miserable about this neverending cycle.

With that neverending cycle comes neverending snow though. The cold is all I care about, and that is everything but my fault. The Creators are pricks who hate us, and that's all there is to it.

With pure determination to sleep in for another five minutes, I threw my blanket further over my body only to hear something flutter to the ground. It was heavier than the flap of butterfly wings, but lighter than the foil in the kitchen.

That was a paper if I’ve ever heard one. I may have limited memories about me, but I for sure remember that.

With my eyes still not fully open, I blindly reached for the paper, my fingertips scraping the freezing floor, making me pull my hand back up to me. I just don't know if I have it in me to do that much moving.

Then again, why would someone put a random paper on my bed? And when was I disturbed in the middle of the night? When was I fast asleep while someone was in here?

I really need some better survival instincts.

Sitting up straight, I properly looked down at the white note waiting patiently by my hammock. It was folded over once, my name written on the outside in neat cursive.

Ooh. I have a secret admirer.

Picking it up, I settled back against the thin pillow, an arm under my head, and opened it.

My sweet Y/N,
This place makes me feel dumb. I know my knowledge is limited in ways I’m not allowed to understand. It actually really chips away at your self worth if you start to think about. Hence why I’m always trying not to think about it.

I do like thinking about you though. I used to go to sleep to the thought of freedom, and I still do. But now, the thought of freedom is just another prison if it doesn't have you.

You're what I look forward to seeing across the room at breakfast. You're the reason I’m drunk of love instead of whatever is in everyone else's cups in Blondie nights. You have become the equivalent of my person, and you don't even know it. And that's my fault, I know. I haven't said anything.

The truth is I don't know if I even should. For the first time, I know what it feels like to breathe. I know rejection could dim the light that’s got me up.

Not trying is unnaccaptable. So I’ll tell you. I just might make you wait a little.

Yours eventually,
?

I . . . wow. When I said a secret admirer I definitely wasn't serious.

Although, I can't say I mind. And with writing like that, I sure got a good one.

Harriet(The Safe Haven:Book:Your P.O.V)
My hands are absolutely filthy, just like they always are now. The Safe Haven doesn't exactly need any Skaters so my skills were sort of even more limited than I ever could have expected. Which sucks because I definitely did have skill there. I may not have made the Maze, but I for sure dominated it.

And now I grow things. I grow tomatoes, carrots, potatoes, cabbage, maple trees, and roses. I help bring life to this place, even if I’m not particularly the best.

It does feel like a demotion sometimes. From being on top to being average.

It's not though. Life is only like that because it's better now. It's safer, happier, more stable. I just need to take a shower and accept that.