T H O R  W A N N A B E

You had just reported to the Keeper of the Sloppers about your job change when you spotted Newt's tall form quickly limping towards you. You said goodbye to the Slopper and hurried away from Newt.

"Y/N!" He called after you.

"Pretty sure I can outrun you, Newt." You replied, irritated.

"Please." The desperation in his voice causing you to slow down and look at him. He was breathing heavily, clutching his leg. "My-my leg hurts. Could we please just sit and talk?"

Pity unfortunately pooled in your stomach, and you obliged, sitting down by a nearby tree. Newt slowly lowered himself to the ground and went to work massaging his leg.

"How bad is it?" You quietly asked.

"Not bad enough that the Creators will send painkillers. Probably don't want a bunch of stoned teenagers running around here."

"Probably not." You let out a small burst of air, a little laugh.

He caught onto it and gave a half-smile back. You cleared your throat, remembering that you were supposed to hate him. "So what did you want to talk about?"

"I wanted to apologize for um, 'having my head so far up my ass' that I wasn't a decent person to you."

You laughed, throwing your head back. "Did I actually say that?"

"You did." Newt chuckled. "And I deserved it. I was honestly such a shuckface to you."

"Why is that anyway?"

"I uh, haven't had much experience that I can remember, with having a crush. And I guess I was afraid you wouldn't like me and that it could get in the way of my being second-in-command so I kinda wanted to make sure that you didn't like me. Which was honestly such screwed up logic, and now I'm regretting it because you're really awesome and I do want you to like me back and-"

"Newt," You stopped his tangent with a sly smile. "Is that your convoluted way of asking me out?"

"Yes."

"How about eight o'clock in the Deadheads?"

"Sounds good to me." He grinned, and you stood, offering him a hand up.

T O N Y  S T A R K  W A N N A B E

Nighttime found you curled up in your bed watching the sunset. A soft knock came from your door, and you told them to come in, thinking it was Teresa. What didn't expect was Thomas' sobbing voice giving you a cracked hello.

"Thomas?" You whipped around, taking in his disheveled appearance. His eyes were red and puffy, dried snot had crusted around his nose, and a few stray tears made their way down his cheeks. "What happened?"

"You were right. I thought the world owed me something. Not like I'm all that great, I mean look at how I treated you and Teresa. I'm such a fuck-up. I bet that when I came here my family barely noticed I was gone, I was probably just a fuck-up to them too." Thomas sniffled, a sad bitterness in his words. "I'm sorry Y/N. You probably don't even care about my problems, I've given you plain hell."

You sighed, patting the foot of your bed for him to sit down. Once he had done so, you took one of his hands in your own and used the other to wipe at his tears. "Thomas, you're not a fuck-up. Sure, you've fucked up here in the Glade, but I bet you did great things before this. You were put in a place with no memories and fifty unfamiliar people. People deal with it different ways, and you just lashed out. I'm not making excuses for you, but I'm giving you a cause for the effect. You can't change the cause, but it's your choice to change the effect."

More tears cascaded down the boy's face as he blubbered about how he was going to make it up to Teresa and you. You pulled him into your chest, and he threw his arms around your waist. "I'm going to forgive you now, and I bet Teresa will forgive you once you fix up your act."

D R.  S T R A N G E  W A N N A B E

You swung your legs off the bench the Medjacks had you sitting on as they stitched up your cheek. Minho's head popped in from the open doorway.

"Can I come in?" He asked sheepishly.

You coldly gestured to the seat several feet away from you. The rest of his body followed his head, and he sat down. "What do you want? To formally tell me I'm not a Runner?" You asked.

"Actually I came to apologize. I saw potential in you, and a lot of it. So I pushed you, trying to get you to see it as well, and I got carried away and pushed too far. I'm really sorry, Y/N."

Clint came over with a damp towel, pausing your conversation. He placed it on your cheek, dabbing at the blood seeping through the stitches. "I've got it." Minho stood up, taking the towel from Clint. The Medjack shrugged and left you guys alone. You were surprised at the tenderness Minho displayed as he gently continued the task.

"Thanks." You told him. "For the towel. And for seeing my potential. I forgive you."

"You can still be a Runner, y'know." He says, looking around before his eyes landed on yours. "If you wouldn't mind seeing my face everyday."

You smirked. "I don't think I'll mind too much."

((I'm thinking a part three for this, who's with me??))