#pseudonym-pen writes

Thomas burst out laughing beside her, nearly dropping his plate. Chuck, hearing the comment from the other side of the bonfire, let a grin stretch his face, beaming. Even Minho, leaning against a tree, guffawed along with the others.

Newt blinked, caught mid-sip of water. “Am I supposed to laugh?” he mouthed at Minho, deadpan, glancing between Gally and the others.

But Gally didn’t laugh.

His face twisted, jaw clenched, and before anyone could react, he stormed toward Y/N. She barely had time to stand before he grabbed her by the scruff of her collar and slammed her against a nearby tree with a sickening thud. Her head snapped back against the trunk, and she crumpled to the ground, dazed and wobbling.

Minho was on him in seconds. “You piece of a—!” he shouted, shoving Gally so hard he stumbled backward.

Gally regained his footing, fists clenched, but Minho was already charging again. His fist came up, aiming straight for Gally’s face, and would’ve shattered his nose if not for Newt, and two other boys who lunged in to hold him back.

“Minho!” Newt yelled, arms locked around Minho’s chest as he tried to lunge at Gally.

“She hit her head!” Minho roared. “He slammed her into a tree!”

“He’s going to the Slammer, alright?” Alby screamed, still holding him back.

Y/N groaned from the ground, trying to sit up. Her vision swam, and the world tilted sideways. Thomas was already beside her, crouched low, his hand on her shoulder.

“Hey, hey, don’t move too fast,” he said gently. “You’re bleeding.”

Newt let go of Minho immediately and limped over as fast as he could to kneel down beside her too, his face pale. 

“Y/N, can you hear me? How many fingers am I holding up?”

“Three?” she guessed, blinking hard. “Or 4. I dunno. Everything’s fuzzy.”

Minho broke free from the other boys holding him and dropped to his knees beside her, brushing her hair back to check the wound. “Hey,” he said, voice tight. “You good?”

Clint, Jeff, and some of the med-jacks ran over, kneeling beside the gang.  “Get her to the hut. She could have a concussion.” The former said.

“I’ve got her,” Minho said, already gently helping her up by the arms. Y/N tried to protest, saying she could get up by herself, but her legs buckled and he caught her.

Thomas hovered close, eyes full of worry. “That was badass and stupid.”

“Oh no, that's just me,” she mumbled, leaning on Minho. “And I'm fine guys, just dizzy.”

“You’re not fine,” Newt said, walking beside them. “You’re lucky you didn’t crack your skull.”

Minho held her close as they walked toward the Med-Jack hut and Thomas stayed on her other side, ready to catch her if she slipped. Newt walked ahead, clearing the path.

Inside the hut, Clint shone a penlight in Y/N’s eyes.

“You’re lucky,” Clint said. “No concussion. But you’ll need rest. No running. No stress.”

“So basically, a day off.”

Thomas chuckled softly, but his eyes were still worried. “Just take it easy.”

Newt leaned against the wall, arms crossed, brow furrowed. “Gally’s gonna be thrown in the Slammer. Don't you worry.”

Minho looked Y/N in the eye. “You should know better piss Gally off, especially on a bonfire.”

“Meh. I really couldn’t help it.”

“I know,” Newt said. “And I don’t blame you.”

She looked from Newt, to Thomas, to Minho. And all of them burst out cackling and chortling.

“You absolute shuck-face, Y/N.”

Alby walked into the hut, in the intention of checking in on Y/N, and informing the gang that the rest of the keepers (most) agreed on Gally spending the night in the Slammer, but froze in place, dumbfolded at the sight before him.

“What are you slint-heads laughing at?”

HEYYYY ITS ME FIRST FIC,(idk what to call it, fic/ one shot) sorry gally stans, although tbh i liked gally better in death cure

I do not own Maze Runner nor Y/N, only my writings, please don't copy or plagiarize from mine (you can reblog, tho, but no plagiarism please)

and if I misinterpret the behaviour or talking style of a character, apologies.