LOST (A Newt/MinhoXReader) ON HOLD

Chapter 6: Oh goodie, a basic brute

Oh, goodie." He sighed sarcastically.

Apparently 'oh goodie' meant: welcome aboard explorer!

Because the next day you woke with the crawling feeling of someone staring at you.
Your eyes darted open and you let out a yelp when you saw a monstrous figure loomimg overhead.
You cursed colorfully, standing and Fry cackled. Punching his shoulder with a glare before glancing around the Glade.
It was still dark out. Your anger drained almost immidiatly, replaced by curiosity and, of course, the weariness that came with waking up at three in the morning in a place you thought was a dream.
Then reality struck and you cast the booming man a questioning look.

"Why..." the question didn't finish itself and Fry stopped laughing, placing his hands on his hips.

"You're going to 'grace me with your prescene' this time from now until forever."
He said in an almost singsong voice. You opened your mouth to speak, but he claped you on the back as he continued, leading you to the Kitchens.

"Yeah, I know, I know."
He said with a hand gesture.

"It's so much to take in: wakin' up at three a.m. just to feed the brutes of the Glade. Being surrounded by all this manliness"
He said with a smoldering look flexing an arm out in front of you.
He nodded, leaning into you.
"Its very intimidating, I know."
He sighed melodramatically.

"But don't you fret, lil missy, I got'chu fam."
You hid your laughter with a dissaproving frown. Shaking your head and rolling your eyes as you walked in silence into the dark Kitchen.

"And I thought you were weird yesterday."
Fry suddenly broke away from you, looking moraly offended. He blinked rapidly, placing his hand on his chest, telling you that he was about to do something dramatic and uncalled for.

"I offer you safety in my Kitchens and you offend me by relating me with the average Joe?"
He exclaimed and you raised a brow, picking up a fig and popping it in your mouth. The seeds crunched in your mouth and caught in your teeth but you ignored them as you watched Fry continue, snaging another fig slyly. This new job would be quite the adventure.
"I am wounded by such thoughts!" You rolled your eyes.

What a drama queen.

"You'll be brutally murdered by the rest if this thats a wound."

He glared at you, clearly trying to find something to say.

"Well 'ya know what..." a pause and he dropped his sentence, looking to your hand that held the sticky fig. He brought his eyes to yours, hands on his hips smile on his face.

"I think..."
Oh no.
You knew that whatever he had in mind was not going to be good. Thanks to the fact that thinking in this place was forbidden..

"I have decided on your new name." He beamed. Oh god. You winced. This was bound to end in ruin.

"Fig." He said simply and you stared.

"What kind of name is that?" You spluttered, completely taken aback by the simple name.
You had expected something worse than that. Something like: Mistress Plumbottom or Chef Cherrypants.
Fry rolled his eyes.

"You don't know your name." He stated and your heart clenched.

"I figured it's about time you got one."
He shrugged.
You nodded, masking your pain at his first sentence. You still didn't remember your name.
Two days in the Glade and you couldn't remember what it was. So, Fig was as good as any. At least for the moment.
And at least to keep your mind off the painful truth: You would ne9ver have whatever life you were forced to leave behind. And you would never be the same person you were then than you were now. You would never have that life. And you would never be that person. And you would never look back.
So you decided this new name Fry had given you was the begining to your new life.
"You're gonna show off your 'cooking skills' and make food for the whole Glade." Fry grinned.
"You've got two hours."
He announced, you nodded in answer.
With that, you snagged the supplies you needed for your dish, and set to work, throwing your past in the trash where it belonged.

• • •

Breakfast time circled around quickly and the green bean casserole you made seemed to wake the Glade. With an unsettling feeling in the pit of your stomach, and a stray band of hair falling from your lose ponytail, you pulled the casserole out of the oven and set it on the island to cool. Fry leaned against the marble island, looking down on the green beans. He had a strange expression on his face that you couldn't quite place.

"What?" You finally asked, taking the other pan out of the oven and he shrugged when you set it down, taking a step back.

"Nothing. That's just a really good way to get these slintheads to eat their veggies."
Just as you opened your mouth to speak, a head popped in from the outside and you looked up to find a mess of sandy blond hair reflecting on the light. It was in that moment you finally realized that the sun had decided to greet the rest of the Glade. It cast the sky in a brillant blue-grey shadow that grew ever lighter.

"Ok, who died and decided to make good food?"
He asked and you flashed a grin in his direction, Fry casting a glare. Newt stepped into the kitchen and Fry turned as you began to dice up the caserole. The bearded man pointed a calloused hand in Newt's direction.

"It'll be you if you say another word, Mr. I'm a Runner and think I'm a god.'" He made a hand gesture and Newt's mouth dropped in feigned pain.

"Oh, I'm sorry," he began sarcastically.
"I didn't mean to hurt your feelings Mr. Im a Cook and think I own the Glade."
He said with the same hand gesture. You looked up, finally cutting the last peice.

"We do own the Glade, Newt."
You interrupted and he quirked a brown brow.

"Oh?" He questioned, amusement thick in the word.

"How so?" You shrughed.

"We control the food: we control the Glade."

You looked up to see an expression you couldn't quite place. It was a mixture of confusion and confidence, (a strange mixture), and one other thing you couldn't name. A sudden thought hit you in the crossfires of your racing minds eye. A thought that made you frown.

"Wait, Newt, aren't you a Runner?"
You knew the answer, but he knew what you meant. The real question you were asking was: Why he wasn't running an hour ago.

Newt shrugged, pushing off the wall and stepping into the kitchen.

"Yeah, but I've got today off."
You stared.
"Since when did we get days off?"

Fry snorted at your words, taking the pan of casserole and serving up the hungry Gladers, leaving the two of you alone.

"No, no, no." Newt waved a hand.
"I get days off cause we have an odd number of people, so we've got shifts worked out and such."
He explained quickly and you pursed your lips, taking the other pan over tp Fry for him to set up.

You turned on Newt, a stray peice of hair falling from your ponytail. Taking him in you nodded.

"So, what do you do when your," you made a hand gesture, "off duty?"
He shrugged and you couldn't help but notice how strong his shoulders were. Dang, he had muscle for his scrawny appearance.

"Ah," Newt began, face tinted. It was kind of cute, the way his face flushed, and made a small part of you smile.

"'Ya know, buggin' people, stealin', lootin', being a basic brute, as Fry so kindly put it."
He gestured to Frypan, who was serving his first customer and you laughed.

"Well, you do seem the type to be a basic brute."
You grinned, deciding that basic brute would become the new, and improved basic bitch.

A/n

A couple things to wrap this all up:
1. If you don't like the name Fig, thats your problem, and your gonna have to get used to it, cause guess what! It ain't going anywhere.
(Also, if your name is Fig, thats fucking amazing)

2. I kinda neglected to mention that this is before Thomas comes into play, so. . . Just thought I'd point that out officially :)

3.
Last thing: I may take a lot longer to update in the next week or so due to circumstances and lifestyle. So please bear that in mind.

Thats it! Thank you for being awesome! :)