Newt Imagines

Newt Imagine 2

It's Saturday- Movie Night. You cuddle up with Newt on the couch, his arm around your shoulders. Minho and Thomas mirror you, Thomas in your place, Minho in Newt's. Brenda is braiding Teresa's hair on the floor as the movie begins.

"I'm telling you, I've seen this movie. It sucks." Brenda says.

"Our puny brains can't handle the other movies you picked out, Brenda, so shut it," whispers Minho as he tousles Thomas' hair.

"We can pick another one if you want," you tell Brenda, as she sticks her tongue out at Minho.

"Can everyone just be quiet?" inquires an obviously sleepy Thomas.
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As the movie goes on, you find that Brenda was right: it sucked. You were so bored that you began counting Minho's disgusting farts (a sequence of them EVERY. FIVE. MINUTES.) Teresa started drawing a mustache above Thomas' snoring lip, and Brenda went home. Newt hadn't said anything since the 28th fart, so you start trying to talk to him.

"Hey, Newt? You okay? Babe?" you pry.

"I'm fine, just fine," he says, although you know he isn't. You know he won't admit it so you just leave him alone. Something was bothering, and you'd find out.

The credits start rolling and you reach out your hand for Newt. He takes it and smiles. But doesn't get up.

Instead, he kneels on one knee.

"(Y/N), we made it out of the Glade, through the Maze, across the Scorch, and we have grown closer every day. I could never spend a day without you. Will you marry me?"

You freeze. You've felt the same way. For a while. You've dated since the days after you came up in the Box. You held his hand throughout The Battle of the Grievers. You never left his side in the Scorch. You stayed with him every day in the Crank Palace. You gave him the cure. You loved him with all your heart.

"Of course I will."

A/N

Okay, this just, you know... Happened. I will try following this story if that's okay...? I will also try to be more active... So yeah.

-me