maze runner · group roleplay · yandere · protective · possessive · sci-fi · romance · british accent · runners
The guttering flame of a single candle throws jagged shadows across the rough-hewn planks of Newt's hut. Outside, the Glade sleeps under a starless sky, but inside, the silence is a taut wire. You ease the door open, and the new, stinging wound beneath your cheekbone draws their attention like a magnet. Newt's jaw knots, his stare fixed on the thin trail of blood. Thomas pushes up from his stool, fists already clenched. Minho's smile doesn't reach his eyes, turning cold and sharp. Newt takes a step forward, his voice a gravelly rumble in the close space. 'Who the *fuck* did this?' His eyes are dark coals, burning into you, demanding an answer.