#minho/thomas

[brandon0809]

Minho x Thomas :D

민톰 더듬더듬해...! 더듬더듬...! 떡이나 쳐라 이자식들아 ㅇㅅㅠ)9

[mlmshipbracket]

PRELIMINARY POLL #7

ALL PRELIMINARY POLLS [HERE] FULL BRACKET [HERE]

NO PROPAGANDA SUBMITTED

[keeper-of-the-builders]

http://archiveofourown.org/works/2381177

HERE YOU GO. THE FANFICTION. THE ONION-SON FANFICTION.

[minhomas-tmr]

The Stars Don’t Know Shit, My Friend - Pt. 1

Hogwarts AU

Minho was heading towards the Room of requirements for a late night party—they’d won against Hufflepuff, but no one was all that surprised by the outcome—when he came across a cute boy lying on the floor at the bottom of a spiral staircase—that Minho knew was the entrance to the Ravenclaw common room—and who smelt faintly of alcohol.

Normally Minho would just keep walking, but today had been an excellent day: He’d received top marks in Arithmancy, and the Quidditch win, so he was feeling charitable.

Walking closer to the boy, he nudged him with his shoe, “Hey you okay?”

The Ravenclaw seeing what was poking him, shoved Minho’s foot aside, and sat against the banister with a huge amount of effort.

“No. I’m not okay. Slightly buzzed..probably, but not drunk—“ he swayed a little to the side, and then reaching out a hand to the floor, steadying himself— “Okay maybe a little drunk..”

The portrait on the side on the landing nearby, gave a disapproving snort.

“You’re locked out.” Minho surmised. He didn’t add a jib at the other boy’s lack of smarts, considering his house, because well…he was in the mood for some chatting. And he didn’t particularly like partying on the weekdays, so he didn’t really care about being late.

“I’m locked out,” the Ravenclaw bobbed his head in agreement then stopped abruptly, making a face when the motion made him dizzy.

“I can help if you like?”

“That’s awe—“ Thomas hiccuped “—fully generous of you, Slytherin.”

“I’m a generous person.”

“OR you want to know the common room password, so you and your friends can come back and create havoc for the house elves to clean up.”

“I hadn’t thought about it, but that’s a great idea, thanks.” His companion rolled his eyes, dismissing his reply of all honesty. “So?”

Thomas looked up at the plain grey ceiling, wondering if this was wise, but thought of being curled up in his warm bed won out. “Fine. But first, do you know a spell that can wake me up a little?”

Minho frowned wondering what he could use, when a wicked thought came to mind, “Aguamenti! ”

Thomas yelled as cold water emitted from Minho’s wand, soaking through his clothes. “You’re so—!”

“You can make an elaborate revenge plan if you like?” Minho said, still smirking at the Ravenclaw’s frozen expression of shock.

“You’re such a piece of shit!”

Minho pretended to be surprised, “How did you know?”  

“Ugh. I changed my mind.” Thomas cradled his face in his palm, “Please leave.”

Minho smirked, and just to annoy him, sat down beside the Ravenclaw, “I’m Minho.”

“I don’t care.”

“Okay, well very nice to meet you anyways,”

“Charmed.” Thomas deadpanned. “Now are you going to help me or what?”

“What’s the riddle?”

“ ‘My first is a creature whose breeding is unclear,” Thomas began, “My second, a price you have to pay. My whole can be found in the river of time, and refers to the events of today.” Thomas looked at the taller of the two, “What am I?’ ”

“Slow, drunk, sleepy,” Minho supplied unhelpfully, eyes glinting with something Thomas couldn’t give two shits to find out.

He rolled his eyes, but still replied back, “You forgot nauseous.”

“My bad.”

They lapsed into silence after that, Thomas’ mind dipping into psychological discussions with himself, and Minho, actually thinking about the riddle.

“…can be found in the river of time..But is it ‘Time’ or…?” He turned towards the other boy and realized the Ravenclaw wasn’t interested in the ‘two heads instead of one,’ thing—eyes closed, and rubbing his forehead tiredly. “Oh Kay..just me now..”

Running the riddle through his mind again and again, one part seemed to stick in his head. “My whole can be found in the river…refers to the—“ Minho’s eyes widened.

He knew the answer.

But should he share? One more look over at the Ravewclaw, and Minho decided against it. He didn’t want to attend the party anyways. This would pass the time nicely…

— “So what’s your name?”

“I thought you were here to help me, not hit on me.” Thomas said, his mouth running ahead of his brain.

“Right,” Minho squinted his eyes, as he seemed to be thinking about the riddle.

Thomas frowned. Now why did that name sound so familiar? In the midst of trying to figure out who his ‘good samaritan’ was, Thomas’ eyes fell onto Minho, mouthing the words to the riddle over and over again.

Thomas watched as he did so, only half waiting for the answer to the password. The first reason…Well, let’s just say, he was finding it harder and harder to keep his mind out of the gutter.

Snapping fingers in front of his face, jerked him from his thoughts. Thank God, because they were heading into dangerous R rated territory and Thomas started to feel too warm, realizing he’d probably been staring. At Minho’s lips.

“What?”

“I said, what’s your name?”

“Thomas,” he replied immediately, looking around him so he could get more distance between them.

The Slytherin was hot as fuck, and whatever doubts Thomas had about his sexuality, flew right out the window. He didn’t trust himself all that much, right now, so he opted for sitting on the third step, while Minho stayed seated on the floor, and prayed he wouldn’t blurt out something embarrassing.

“Like that isn’t the most common ass name in the world. Thomas what?”

“Thomas Editton. You want my star sign too?” he asked sarcastically. — Minho grinned. Yes!! He would love to know what Thomas’ star sign was. He was really big on astrology and all that, but the chances of coming off as creepy were high. He had to be cool, smooth. Which was no problem; he’d had loads of practice.

“Editton…” Minho trailed off, recognizing the last name, “Are you by any chance related to that Quidditch—“

“He’s my uncle.” Thomas interrupted, voice bordering on boredom, like he got asked that a lot, and was fed up with it. Minho figured he could still continue in the Quidditch route knowing the brunette was a Beater for the Ravenclaw team, but Thomas’ displeasure was hard to miss. Plus, Thomas here might think he was digging for information—it was no secret the Slytherin captaincy was passed down to Minho.

“Hmm. So how did you get yourself into this predicament?”

“Wouldn’t you just love to know.”

“Yes. Which is why I’m asking, you buffoon.”

Thomas glared at Minho, but conceded, “Made a bet with a Gryffindor,”

“Ah!” Minho shook his head. “I’m guessing you don’t drink much.”

Thomas scowled. “So?”

“You should at least decide on a ‘loser has to’ with something that is risky enough, but won’t get you expelled. Then again, you Ravenclaws are always so overconfident.”

“Excuse you—“

“Seriously, why would you make a drinking bet with a Gryffindor? Don’t you know they always sneak in Firewhiskey every year?

“That’s against school rules!” Thomas said louder than he meant to, and slapped both hands over his mouth, in shock. They both stilled, wary to be found. He guessed Minho deemed them safe enough, because he started back the conversation where they’d left of.

“Like that’s ever stopped a Gryffindor. But on the flip side, maybe if we picked up our game, they would lose a lot more—and hence..less parties…less reasons for celebrating.”

“Hence.” Thomas echoed, wary that they had strayed to the topic of Quidditch. He was only too aware that he wasn’t his best right now. Minho’s lips were still enticing him, especially now, with Minho chewing on his bottom lip.

“So, do you believe talent is genetic?”

“What.” Thomas wasn’t expecting this. Of all things… Was this guy seriously chatting him up?

Minho raised an inquiring eyebrow, “You want me to repeat the question, or elaborate?”

“Uh..” Thomas floundered for a second, “um..elaborate.” He was so confused right now. This felt so surreal, chatting with a Slytherin.

“Well to be good at a sport, it takes a lot of practice, determination, muscle building and what-not, right? Having an aptitude for sports is one thing, being built for it, is another. I mean, every person is built differently, so how can it be genetic?”

Thomas slowly blinked at Minho in surprise, “Are you sure you’re Slytherin?”

Minho shot him an annoyed look, but before Thomas could explain, they heard voices coming down the corridor.

“Shiiiit!!”  Thomas swore. There went his perfect record; Teresa was going to gloat so much now, because this setback put her ahead of him. He wondered how severe a punishment being wasted would get him..or would they really expel him as Minho said?

“Get up you shank!!” Minho hissing in his ear, brought him back. Thomas felt himself being yanked to his feet, then pushed behind a tapestry, Minho slapping a hand over Thomas’ mouth to muffle the yelp he let out when his back hit the concrete wall.

Thomas held his breath as the two Prefects making rounds passed them, before turning the corner. Minho dropped his hand only when the footsteps stopped echoing down the corridor. Thomas couldn’t see anything in the dark, only hear shallow breathing in front of him, as Minho leaned a hand against the wall beside Thomas’ head.

“That…was very close,” Thomas swallowed. Minho was also very close, too close. Why was he standing so close? Minho didn’t have enough height to loom—Thomas was plenty tall, thank you very much—but standing in the dark, Thomas sure felt like he did. Why was he leaning even closer to him?

Thomas flattened himself against the wall, but all Minho did was whisper four words, before leaving a bewildered Thomas behind the tapestry, his steps fading away.

The answer is, Current.

— The next day was hell for Thomas. Everything was so fucking bright, not to mention the pounding headache he was suffering. He pulled the covers over his head, not wanting to face the day like this, but his stomach wouldn’t have any of it, and the hunger won out. Hunger always won out.

Breakfast was spend at the end of the long table in the Great Hall, because it was the only seat that wasn’t bathing in sunlight, and he wanted nothing more than brood and eat his meal in silence. His friends didn’t let him though.

“You knew it was a bad idea, but you did it anyways,” Teresa was saying, “Hopefully this will serve as a lesson to stop picking fights with Gally. Honestly, it’s a miracle you came to your room in one piece, so count yourself lucky, Thomas.”

Thomas said nothing, eyes flickering over to the table on the other end of the hall, eyes resting on the Slytherin Captain. Not for the first time he wondered how long Minho had known the answer to the riddle. And why had he chosen to help Thomas to begin with?

Minho was eating his food quietly, grinning as someone sitting beside him, nudged his ribs, like they were teasing him about something. As Thomas watched on, a girl with short black hair put her arm around Minho’s shoulder, whispering something in his ear. Minho frowned, and then suddenly he looked right at Thomas, who quickly dropped his gaze to his porridge.

Thomas listened to his friends talking—luckily not talking about him anymore—and then slowly turned his attention back to Minho.

Thomas had never cared about the rumours surrounding the Slytherin Captain, because it hadn’t mattered. Only beating Slytherin at Quidditch had mattered. Now he wondered if it was true what they said about him. Was it really a thing that you could like both genders? Not that this changed anything, because why would Minho’s sexual orientation be any intere—

Bright light blinded Thomas a second later, and Thomas yelped slamming his eyes shut.

“Ugh, fucker!!” he groaned.

“Excuse me?” Teresa scowled, and Thomas realized belatedly that he’d said that a lot louder than he’d thought.

“No, not you, him.” Thomas gestured at the Great Hall vaguely, not in a hurry to tell his friends about Minho. They’d think he was pulling one on them, saying a senior from Slytherin no less, helped him when he was drunk. A really hot Slytherin, that he was so very clearly developing a crush on.

Fuck.

— Thomas was restless and quite irritated by the time the weekend approached. He wanted so badly to confront Minho—know his motive, but he was a year younger than him so they had no classes together. The only time a talk was possible, was at meals which was too public, or the grounds in the afternoons, which was also very public.

By Saturday, Thomas decided maybe he should talk to someone about it. His friend weren’t interested however, Thomas’ foul, snappish mood having driven them away. With a sigh, Thomas walked onto the sunny grounds on his own, and leaned against a secluded tree close to the water. The warm summer breeze made the curtain of leaves around him flutter, hiding him from view.

It was surprising then, how Minho managed to find him. — “Are you following me?”

Minho laughed at Thomas’ question. “Funny that coming from you,” he said, knowing Thomas would catch his meaning. The boy hadn’t stopped tracking him with his eyes during meal times. All his friends had noticed by now, and were getting suspicious of Thomas.

They stood side by side quietly, until Thomas asked, “How was your week?”

“I don’t do small talk, Thomas. Why don’t you just say what you’ve been dying to say?”

Minho watched his face, as Thomas looked down at his shoes, uncertain. Just as he got tired of waiting, Thomas spoke.

“You knew the answer.”

“So? Slytherin’s cant be smart, now?”

“No, they can’t, their supposed to be evil!” Thomas snapped at him. Minho pursed his lips, getting the message. Thomas didn’t actually believe that, he just needed to say his peace—or at least have a calm conversation.

When he was sure Minho wasn’t going to make fun of him, Thomas asked, what he’d been wondering this whole time, “Why…why did..you stay?”

“I—“ Minho thought back to that night, was it a Tuesday? “I was in a good mood.”

“Oh.” Thomas said softly.

Minho thought Thomas looked disappointed. It made him smile. “It’s also didn’t hurt, that you’re cute.”

“Oh,” Thomas said again, but this time with interest, surprise and sounded slightly pleased too.

“Do you like boys, Thomas?” Minho asked, moving so that both his hands bracketed Thomas, resting along his sides. Thomas swallowed loudly, and Minho’s eyes tracked the movement, enjoying Thomas’ flushed cheeks maybe a bit too much.  “Or am I your exception?”

Thomas sighed, looking away briefly before taking a deep breath and meeting Minho’s gaze squarely, “Either fuck me, or fuck me over, but please pick one.”

Minho grinned wickedly more glad than ever, he’d decided to help out the Ravenclaw. Thomas’ dark eyes staring unabashedly at him, and the slow smirk growing on his lips, promised a good time. — A/N- Hullo Lovelies!! Thank you for the encouragement to finish the story of a Hogwarts AU of Thomas/Minho. Also Thanks to anyone who took the time to read this :) I hope it was a fun read. I myself enjoyed writing it :) I have one more chapter created a series of this that I’m writing, I’m just going away on a weekend trip which is why it’s coming in parts lol All mistakes are my own. Love much <3 ~Nenz

[angels-choking-on-their-halos]

'I'm Hansel, you're Gretel.'

[notthetrickster]

The Silly Ones

summary: in which theres no such thing as The Flare, Minho and Thomas are just regular people, coffee shop AU pairing: Minho/Thomas fandom: The Maze Runner words: 1k-ish I guess or read it on ffn 

He stretched his body to the left until it made a sound, and then to the right. It has been a tough day at work for Minho. He looked at his watch, which said it was already really late, and there was only one other person in the room. Minho started to collect his things, he wanted to go home right that second and take a hot bath. When he was done, the other worker in the room said, “Heading back now?” Minho didn’t look at the guy, he took a dozen of papers that he forgot to put into his bag. “Yeah, it has been a tiring week, hasn’t it?” The guy just let out a little laugh.

Minho walked past him and pressed the button of the elevator. “Good night, Minho, see you tomorrow,” He raised one hand and said “Yeah, night, Newt.”

The sound of the city at night was really different in the morning. It was worse. The busy traffics, the lights, the people, the smell of burning smoke. It was never the same. He walked into a building, pressed ‘4’ in the elevator. He reached his apartment and changed clothes quickly. He looked at the clock, it was past midnight, and now he was too tired for a bath. He was exhausted, so he threw himself to bed as soon as he saw his. And he was asleep right that second.

His eyes felt really heavy when he tried to open them. He let a growl out of his mouth, his strong back aching. He was a mess, and yet he still had to go to work. He silently cursed the company. He slowly got up from bed, took a shower so he could feel fresh again, and off to work without realizing that he didn’t had any breakfast.

*******

The coffee shop was the same as usual. The smell of coffee. The busy conversations. The sound of honking cars outside the shop. Thomas started his morning shift with a happy face. He didn’t even know why, he just got a feeling that it was gonna be a good day, unlike any other day. Even though he was cleaning a table. Costumers came and left, grabbing whatever that could filled their stomachs because they haven’t had breakfast yet.

He heard a bell from the door, and saw a new costumer walked in, so he rushed to the cashier so he could take his order. The man was already stared at the menu. “Good morning, sir, what can I do for you?” Thomas asked. The guy didn’t say anything, he kept gazing at the menu. Thomas observed his costumer. He was an Asian, that he could tell. He smelled really fresh and masculine, like pine wood, his scent could be smelled from miles away, plus he was kind of tall. The Asian guy looks adorably cute in his confused face. He was wearing a white shirt with a black tie, and he wasn’t the only one with that kind of clothes at the place, but he looked damn hot in those fabrics. How is he cute and hot at the same time? Thomas thought to himself. The Asian guy said something, his voice deep and tired, which made Thomas bit his lower lip.

Wait, what?

Thomas blinked and felt stupid. “I’m sorry, what was that?” The Asian guy looked a bit irritated, yet still attractive, and he repeated himself, “I said, can I get a tall caramel frappuccino, please?” Thomas was embarrassed, cursing himself. He could say anything in the world to reply that sentence, and yet he said, “Got a sweet tooth, don’t you?”

Why did he say that?

The Asian guy glanced at Thomas, wondering why such odd question was asked, but he still answered it. “Well, yeah, sort of,”

Thomas smiled. “Will there be anything else?”

The Asian guy thought for a moment. “Uh, yeah, can I get a banana nut bread?”

"Of course. One tall Caramel Frappuccino and one banana nut bread. The total would be.." Thomas took another glimpse at the man, realizing how serious and tired the man looked, like he was so beaten up at work and never had any fun for a few days, and thus he continued, "…free!"

Thomas hoped the man understood that it was just a joke to make the guy’s day better.

Instead, his costumer didn’t say anything. His mouth opened a bit, and eyes widened. It was like the greatest thing he has ever heard. Thomas wanted to bang his head on the table and bleed to death.

"Sir, I–" "For real?!" He looked somewhat happy. He was smiling, for God’s sake. He assumed not many people could saw that. Thomas couldn’t dare to ruin such thing. He let out a half smile and said, "Of course! This one will be on me, okay?"

The man left a grin. Like it was his trademark grin. His eyes were tired, but it also reflected a sparkle. Thomas had just saw the most beautiful thing in his life. There was no grin like his. Only this guy could have this kind of attraction. He was astonished.

He felt like he has been staring at the guy forever, but actually it was never more than three seconds.

"What’s your name?"

The question seemed off and wrong, only because that was the question Thomas should ask.

"Me?"

"Do you think I was talking to anybody else?" There was that grin again.

Thomas smiled playfully. “It’s Thomas”

"Well, Thomas, how about you give me your number and we could see each other sometime?"

*******

He couldn’t believe that those words slid out of his mouth. He was embarrassed, but still hoped for a yes.

*******

Thomas was confused and embarrassed. He could see the regret on the taller man’s face, which was also blushing, and that made Thomas even more confused. But, hey, he was so attractive. How could someone even turn down this man?

*******

Minho left the coffee shop with his breakfast and Thomas’s number. He has never feel so satisfied with himself.

—-

A/N: yooo i made this at like 5 am and i think its a good idea and i was like ‘why not’ #yolo. my only regret was the title tho. wtf was i thinking and btw did i do some grammar mistakes? should i continue? review review review!

p.s. Minho/Thomas should get more love amen

[brandon0809]

Minho/Thomas

[a-still-small-vox]

COME AS YOU ARE - [READ HERE ON AO3]

A fic written for FTH 2025, for the lovely MizzRicki. Thanks for donating to Global Project Against Hate and Extremism!

The Maze Runner • Thomas/Minho • General Audiences • 6,020 words

Summary: Thomas knows he's different from the other Gladers, but can't put his finger on exactly how. All he knows is that something inside of him is trying to get out. Something that has claws and teeth.

[iasconsumesmedia]

Thominho Week Submission Day 1

Rating: Explicit

Archive Warning: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Characters

Minho (Maze Runner)

Thomas (Maze Runner)

gladers galore and more (can we make this tag canonical, please?)

Additional Tags:   

Alternate Universe - High School Running teammates Enemies to Lovers blowjob

Beat you to it.

by everyonelovesLaurence (@dunne-ias (main tumblr)  / @iasconsumesmedia(fan blog))

Summary:

First curve on the second lap. As from out of nowhere, there is a sound behind him. And then he can see a person from the corner of his eye. He chuckles. Newbies. Burning themselves out too early. He speeds up, just to show that he can, but as the curve flattens out again, the person is still there. Keeping up. Coming closer. Getting up next to him. Minho can’t see much of him except a mop of unruly brown hair and pale skin.

He puts more force into his step and for a short moment, he thinks he’s managed to shake off Pale Brunet, but then the final curve comes, and the other boy is there again – passing him. On an outside lane in a curve. Passing him, Minho, on the last curve of an 800-meter race, and on the last stretch, the place where most runners run out of energy and slow down a bit Pale Brunet is speeding up. Minho hasn’t saved enough strength and watches as Pale Brunet does a hard sprint for the goal.

 - Thominho Week Day 1 - Enemies to Lovers

[keeper-of-the-builders]

Thomas: u are my cray bae

Minho: ....what?

Thomas; My crazy lover

Minho: say that again and I’ll break your face

[minhomas-tmr]

The Lies I Tell Myself - Chapter 3

Thomas couldn’t stop pacing, and with the amount of times he ran his hand through his hair, by the time Minho actually stepped into the room, he looked like a wreck.

Minho didn’t say anything at first, eyes going straight to the state of Thomas’ hair, which by this point, resembled a bird’s nest. It also made Thomas look utterly fuckable. Minho grinned, unashamed at the thought and well..he was a dick, so he made sure to bring it to Thomas’ attention.

“You look like you just had sex…”

Thomas stopped mid-stride, an action that almost tripped him over his own feet, catching onto the dresser in the nick of time. “What?” his voice sounded an octave higher than usual. Clearing his throat embarrassed, he tried again, “What are you talking about?”

“This,” Minho gestured to all of him. Thomas gave him a look of confusion so Minho walked up, and turned Thomas around to face the mirror.

Realization grew on Thomas’ face, but whatever was on his mind, overruled the embarrassment. Minho noticed right away and dropped the direction he wanted the conversation to go.

Instead, he turned Thomas toward him gently, hand staying on the guy’s lower back. “What happened. Why are you so worked up?”

“OooohmyGod! I can’t do this. She going to-she’s going to know okay? She’s my mother, Minho!! Mother!! She’s—she’s gonna take one look at me and think what a loser s-son she ended up! So pathetic that he had to go and get himself a fake boyfrie—“

“Shut up.” Minho said softly but firmly. “We’ve gone over everything, thanks to your annoyingly anal attention to detail. Seriously you didn’t need to know my cologne or what gel I use for my hair…”

Thomas started to open his mouth for an excuse? Explanation? Guilty confession?

Minho didn’t care.

“Listen. We got this. I’ve kept your clothes on the bed for tomorrow. It’s only an hour and half flight, so I suggest you sleep it off. There’s zero hassle to get the venue; the email said a taxi will be waiting for us at the airport with a sign of our names on it. We get in, we go to the hotel, and then we can do whatever the fuck we want until the welcome brunch, okay? Thomas?”

Thomas, Minho noted was distracted. Shocker. He was like a dog with a cat’s personality. Thomas was looking at the outfit on the bed like he’d never seen clothes before.

“Now what?”

“I would never wear a polo shirt…” Thomas supplied. Minho rolled his eyes,

“You do now,” he said with finality. “I want my boyfriend to look as hot as I do—“

“Conceited much?” Thomas snorted.

“I’m stating a fact.” Minho deadpanned.

“Okay fine, I’ll wear that but I’m NOT wearing your jacket! This isn’t a highschool movie...”

“Fair point,” Minho threw his Varsity jacket away from the ensemble. Digging into Thomas’ closet, he found a black blazer hidden in a corner. “There!” he threw it on the bed. “Now show me what you’re planning on packing.”

“Just my usual tees and jeans,”

Minho squinted at Thomas, trying to work out if he was being serious or not, “And the wedding? What are you wearing then?”

“This will do,” Thomas gestured to the outfit on the bed, “I don’t have anything else, to be honest.”

Minho rubbed his face tiredly. Was Thomas serious? Even if he hadn’t been to a wedding in a while, he had seen movies right? This was ridiculous.

“Okay that’s it! We’re going shopping,” Minho declared, “and wear something decent. I don’t want the attendants thinking you’re some homeless person that walked in accidentally.”

“Hey, it’s not that bad!” Thomas protested his style.

“No,” Minho shook his head and stepped out so Thomas could change, “it’s worse.”

— “I look like an idiot!” Thomas whined from inside the stall. Minho didn’t respond, scrolling down his phone.

They were at an outlet mall on the outskirts of Glade Ville because Thomas was on a scholarship and didn’t have no job, so Minho would be footing the bill, and there was no way he was blowing a three shift’s worth of earnings on one jacket.

Still, he had a part-time job at a cafe and a decent taste in fashion. Maybe not up with the times, but who needed those when you had classics?

“Minho?”

The uncertainty in his roommate’s voice, made Minho sigh heavily. “Thomas seriously it’s a button up, not a three piece tux,”

“You have one of those for me to try on, don’t you?” Thomas’ muffled voice, said sullenly.

“Fuckable, remember?” Minho said just as a store attendant walked by. She did a double take and awkwardly shuffled away, blushing furiously.

“Minho—“ Thomas cut himself off, clearly giving up on his protest and stepped out of a stall, dropping his hands on either sides of his body awkwardly. He was wearing a powder blue button up paired with navy blue slacks. “Please tell me this is the last one?”

He sounded so hopeful, it was adorable. Minho’s way of response was to gesture beside of him, where he’d collected a couple more outfits. The brunette’s shoulders dropped visibly.

“Why?”

“You have zero decent clothes for a wedding, Thom—it’s like your not even trying. And that blazer and dress pants were laughable, seriously I can’t believe you were planning on wearing that to the wedding!”

“I hardly think people will be paying any attention to what I’m wearing!” Thomas ignored the nickname and began pacing in front of Minho—his new thing apparently—fingers running repeatedly through his hair.

At first Minho said nothing but from experience, the more Thomas got lost in his head, the harder he had to work to get him out of it, so Minho used it to his advantage.

“Yes, perfect!” he stopped Thomas’ hands from spiking the hair even more, and ran his own fingers through to comb down the sides, successfully achieving that perfect tousled look. “Some gel to hold it in place…” Minho mused aloud as he reached for his phone in his pocket.

He aimed the camera app at Thomas, noting his posture, “Okay, stand back against the stall there, hands by your side. Jesus, what are you, an old lady? Back straight, chin up and...Thomas for the love of god look at me!!”

Minho took a couple pictures including one showing the full outfit, a close-up and a side profile picture, all with constant demands for Thomas to look into the camera.

Though there was one of Thomas shyly looking at the floor, eyelashes fanned out on blushing cheeks. Minho would have loved to play capturing that one as an accident, but then…how to explain the five other shy and quiet Thomas in various dressy outfits? On top of that, try as he might, Minho couldn’t stop the urge to get his hands on Thomas. There was little to no excuse why he wouldn’t let the attendant knot Thomas’ tie or straighten the jackets he tried on.  

Thomas though through everything, obediently modeled Minho’s hand picked shirts, ties, dress pants, jackets and blazers. Even the shoes. Complained quite a bit sure, but only in jest. After all they both knew no matter his opinion, Thomas was going to put it on.

While he was trying on a different colour of a same design pants, Minho browsed the store for options for the wedding day itself. That’s when he came across the bold number. A bright red three-piece suit, Minho found it in Thomas’ size and turned to the carousel for a nice greyish blue collared button-down.

Seating himself back on the bench by the stall, he waited for Thomas to come out. One cursory glance and Minho decided the outfit Thomas had on, was perfect for their occasion. The light grey checkered pants and jacket with a deep maroon dress shirt, would have any girl or guy drooling.

Utterly fuckable.

He didn’t share this however, simply held out the three-piece for Thomas, not missing that startled but resigned look.

By the time Thomas was done up, Minho had paid for the outfits he’d chosen, including a couple items for himself as well, carefully tucking the receipt away. They were going to be away for a maximum of five days and wearing each outfit once, so it fit well within the 30 day return policy.

Minho’s smirk at his genius plan slid, when the other boy stepped out, fully dressed in that hot number. Minho unconsciously licked his lips at the vision Thomas made.

“I know you know your shit, but isn’t this too much?” Thomas was the one who broke the silence, seeing as Minho was just staring at him.

“Oh it wasn’t a contender,” Minho shrugged with an easy smile, as he walked towards him, “just wanted to see you in it.”

Thomas should have been upset. He should have been irritated that Minho was wasting his time by making him try on things he wasn’t even wanting Thomas to wear.

But he wasn’t.

“And?”

“You look handsome,” Minho said honestly, smoothing out the non existent wrinkles against his shoulders, just so he would have something to do with his hands. Again with the touching!! He didn’t move away though, “very handsome.”

Their gaze held for a long moment, not a trace of amusement in Minho’s, as he stared into Thomas’ wide doe eyes.

“Do you need help with anything?” came a sweet voice close to the entrance into the change rooms.

Thomas and Minho visibly jumped apart, belatedly realizing how indecently close they had been standing. Minho cleared his throat awkwardly and Thomas turned away from them to hide his red face.

“W-we uh—we’re good, right?”

Thomas glanced back at Minho’s stuttering with a raised eyebrow. Uncertainty wasn’t a quality one would usually associate with Minho.

He also realized the words were the same, but the meaning felt completely different. As though he was telling the blonde girl they didn’t need her assistance, and at the same time, asking him if they were cool.

Like the knowledge of Minho genuinely finding him attractive hadn’t broken his brain.

“Yes. Y-yeah, yeah sure.”

Minho constantly said suggestive to him but it always had a teasing lilt to it, accompanied by a smirk, solely for the purpose of embarrassing him.

This though…this was unfamiliar.

It felt intimate, kind of like when they danced at the house party last week; too close a distance for roommates who were supposed to be friends. Friends didn’t dance like that. Friends didn’t unnecessarily smooth non-existent wrinkles either—yes he’d noticed.

It took a moment to realize Minho was talking. “Wait, what?” Thomas interrupted.

“I was saying, I’ve already paid so we’re done for the day, shank.”  Minho bent down to grab their bags, and Thomas very pointedly didn’t look at his ass.

Unfortunately, that meant he made eye contact with the attendant instead, who had stayed past her offer. She looked between him and Minho knowingly, a smile playing on her lips.

Great. More people witnessing this disaster waiting to happen. When he turned back to Minho having nothing else to distract himself from, he found Minho not looking at Thomas, but again at the outfit he still wore, like he was trying to memorize every stitch and slope of the suit.

He could feel the heat on his cheeks, watching Minho’s slow appraisal of him. It was a rush, knowing he could have that kind of affect on Minho of all people.

Honestly, he’d wear this ridiculously expensive suit everyday, if it would get Minho to look at him like that.

Feeling uncharacteristically daring, Thomas unbuttoned the jacket, shrugging it off his shoulders with more grace than he was aware he possessed. The waist coat followed in the same manner, neither boy saying anything, Minho’s eyes tracking Thomas’ nimble fingers and Thomas’ eyes tracking Minho.

He wanted to test whether Minho meant what he said, a Wanna take the rest of it off? on the tip of his tongue, but he chickened out.

Minho seemed genuine but he could have been joking too. Sure there was the implication he was attractive in this get-up—he wasn’t blind after all—but it could have been a bro thing too, right?

There was no way a star like Minho would go for Thomas…

“I’m hungry,” Minho said abruptly, taking a step back. “You should change,”

So Thomas kept his mouth shut, changed the rest of the way in the stall and took the bus back to the apartment with his flatmate.

A flatmate very out of bounds!! Why was it getting so hard to remember that?

—

A/N: Lovelies!! Back again with a new chapter where my boys are still idiots ;)  Had it sitting in my drafts just waaaaiting for the final edit lol Wedding Shenanigans next!! love much, nenz

[yabamena]

Minho/Thomas

A+++++, please and thank you!

For the ship grading meme. Come at me bro!

[minhomas-tmr]

The Lies I Tell Myself - Chapter 2

AKA that Fake Relationship AU I abandoned a long time back (sorry)

—

He had a plan. An actual plan. Well…sort of. Okay fine, he had an idea. Roughly…


“Oh my god!!” Thomas banged his head repeatedly on his desk. 

He was supposed to be writing an essay on serial killers’ brain patterns, but the note book was blank of words and so was his Word document.

Not that he could concentrate on his assignment anyways, his mind filled with infinite possibilities of how he was going to humiliate himself despite Minho’s willingness to help, because lets face it—he was a walking train wreck.

“Be careful. Don’t want to burst all those precious brain cells that’ll get you through your full ride.”

Thomas ignored Minho, continuing the movement of his head. Suddenly, his head fell on something softer, and Thomas raised his head to see what it was. Minho had placed his hand right where Thomas was punishing himself. 

Well, now there was no way he was continuing. Thomas’ eyes then travelled to Minho’s arm, elbow which still rested on the table, making him hunch slightly over Thomas—which was probably not ideal for the sake of his health. 

Oh those, those muscular arms...Thomas blamed them for why him and his roommate hadn’t hit it off right away. How were you supposed to build a friendship, when Minho railing him was all he could think about?

Speaking of which, Thomas only realized Minho was talking to him, when his roommate shook his head exasperatedly and turned to leave.

Thomas grabbed his retreating tan arm without thinking and Minho turned to face him again, waiting. 

“This is a mistake.” All he got were raised eyebrows, so he hastily added, “I’m going to screw it up. I always do.”

“You’ve sent the RSVP back already,” Minho pointed out.

“It’s not just that,” Thomas got up from his swivel chair. “You’re my roommate, you shouldn’t—I shouldn’t be asking you for this at all!”

“You didn’t, I offered remember? It’s just some acting for a couple of days, Thomas. You don’t even have to be in love with me, right? The story is us dating for three months. It’s simple: we avoid alone time with your mom, we kiss for Gally and you stop jumping every time I touch you.”


Thomas ducked his head at the last one. “I’m not—“ he swallowed loudly, “—I’m not comfortable with it.”


“Well you’re going to have to be. Otherwise we won’t be able to pull this off.” 

Thomas felt like crying, but he couldn’t bring himself to admit why he was like that. The urge to apologize was on the tip of his tongue but he shook it away. He had nothing to apologize for. He wasn’t in the wrong.

He cleared his throat, stating “Uhh, I have some work to…” He looked towards his desk “..start.” Thomas turned back to Minho, “I have work. So.”

Minho looked confused at this sudden change in mood though he didn’t voice it as he exited the room

—

Minho left Thomas to his books all afternoon, their conversation put out of his mind while he was training and attending class. During one of them though, Introduction to Theatre—a mystery why he thought it was a good class to take—they were discussing Hedda Gabler today and despite the intriguing play and the ever long debate if Hedda was a tragic hero, Minho’s mind was stuck on Thomas.

He didn’t understand the brunette. One minute they were joking around, the next having the stiffest conversation. Was Thomas uncomfortable around him? He didn’t remember doing anything that would cause such a strong reaction…

Still Minho carefully combed through every interaction so far with Thomas, to see where he’d erred.

It was only when he was walking back from campus, sunlight fading quickly into a cool October evening, that he thought…maybe it had nothing to do with him.

Minho opened the front door, to a noisy amartment. Newt had that friend that loved to cook over again. Minho had to work not to show his irritation at times like these, because however talented ‘Frypan’ was, he was the one who cleaned up after.

Always.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Thomas in the kitchen with them grinning, and as much as he wanted to clear the air, the boy looked happy in that moment and the last thing Minho wanted to do was to wipe it away.  

Without greeting anyone, he went straight into his room only coming out at nine when the flat was quiet and hopefully empty. If he were to take a guess, the others were probably at a party.

Entering the kitchen, it was exactly how he’d expected it to be. Spaghetti and cranberry juice on the floor, a couple gummy worms sitting in the packet, the rest spilled out and it looked like they’d tried to bake something in the oven but it had burnt so they’d simply left it in there.

Minho wrinkled his nose in distaste, not looking forward to cleaning the baked mess and turned to survey the counter top, working out where to start. Movement in the left most corner of the room had Minho’s eye fly there.


Thomas stood lips pursed by the doorway. Despite wanting to discuss Thomas’ flinching habit before, Minho was in no mood to do so now. Thomas was there when Newt had made this mess and if he stayed home instead of being out for what was likely a Halloween party, he still had ignored the mess preferring someone else to clean up.


“I was going to tidy up later,” Thomas supplied after they stared at one another for a few seconds. Minho’s eyes darkened in annoyance. Thomas was a terrible liar. Datin—fake dating him was a bad idea. God, why did his thoughts always return back to Thomas? “I’m surprised you aren’t partying it up too…” 


“I have a presentation.” Minho said shortly. Fine, he was mad. Mad and tired and still he was here cleaning up someone else’s mess.

“On what?”

Minho paused in his cleaning of the counter and turned around to face Thomas. Why was he trying to start a conversation, when Minho was sure his irritation was obvious.


“Don’t you have something better to do?”

Hurt flashed across Thomas’ face and now Minho wanted to bang his head against something. It barely took any time to relent—which was usual. He blamed it on the attraction.

Sighing he answered the question, “Pop art culture. It’s pretty cool actually.”

“I didn’t take you for the artsy type?”


“Yeah…no one does,” the last three sentences were said softer.

More silence. Thomas opened and closed his mouth a couple times. It was clear he wanted to say something but either didn’t know how to proceed or was afraid to.

“It’s not you,” he ventured finally. The comment was random enough, Minho nodded. Thomas had confirmed the conclusion he had come to. He was also relieved it wasn’t because Thomas was afraid of him.

“You’re still nervous around me. More so than Newt or Winston even.”


“Yeah,” Thomas admitted, hands twirling around a spoon handle, purposely not looking at Minho. “but that’s different. Beautiful people make me nervous.”

“Well…that I am.” Minho smirked.

—

Thomas shook his head at Minho’s cockiness. He admired that confidence, was even jealous of it  at times, but his statement was honest. Minho was gorgeous, and he was 85 percent sure,  he’d been salivating the first time they’d met. 

“They’re going to know,”

“What?” 

That’s when Thomas realized he’d said this out loud.

“That’s this is pretend. I mean, look at me!” he said frustrated, finally raising his head back up.

The other boy’s shoulders leaned against the wooden cupboards above the counter top, arms folded which only enhanced his fit form, and he was… Shit was he actually checking him out? Thomas felt a sudden need to cover himself.

“I didn’t mean like…” Thomas bit his bottom lip, waiting for Minho’s eyes to come back up to his face.  The asshole was taking his sweet ass time, and by then Thomas was blushing furiously. “You’re such a tool!”

Minho laughed. “Would you recognize me otherwise?”

“Oh please,” Thomas scoffed. “You’re nice.”

“I thought I was beautiful?”

“Yeah, that too.” Thomas scratched the back of his head. It seemed they were returning to their norm, which was a relief.


“Don’t sell yourself short, Thomas. You’re plenty cute.”

“Uh, thanks,” the fading blush returned in full force.


“Look, we have two weeks until the wedding. Now I know we haven’t spent that much time together, but maybe we can work on that so at least some of that nervousness will go away.”

Thomas thought this over. It was a stretch—there was no way he could get rid of his hang up by that time, but he was trying out this strange thing called being optimistic, which it seemed, Minho had in spades.  

“Okay, fine,”

 he said reluctantly. Wasn’t like there was a choice?

“That’s the spirit!”

—

“This was your plan? To humiliate me at another frat party?”


“First of, it’s not a frat party. Second, you need to learn to relax, and Harriett always has the best mixes, and its a small gathering compared to the usual.” Minho rubbed his hands excitedly, “We’re going to dance. Together.”


“First of—“ Thomas imitated the older boy, “—I don’t need to learn how to relax when I’m not stressed. Second of, how’s that not humiliating me?”

“What th—“

“I can’t dance!”

“Can you walk, Thomas?”

“Oh go to hell! The actors in Take the Lead had to pretend not to know how to dance! It would be a really awkward movie otherwise,” Thomas ranted. Noticing Minho’s wide grin he asked, “What?”

“Well that takes care of ‘what made us bond in the beginning’, question.”

Thomas huffed, “I won’t dance,”

“Okay,” Minho shrugged, and Thomas narrowed his eyes; Minho never gave up that easily. What was he up to? And then he turned around to leave.

Thomas’ arm shot out to grab a hold of Minho’s shirt, “Hey, where are you going?”

“To get a drink. See ya!” And he was gone.

Thomas threw his hands up in frustration, hitting someone in the face accidentally in the process, “Shit, shit, I’m so sorry. Excuse me would you—I could-I’ll get you some ice..if you need?”

“Don’t bother, I’m fine,” the girl gave him a disgruntled look and walked away.

“Okayyy…what now?” Thomas looked over the sea of people, and tried a random direction. What felt like an hour later, he found Minho outside. “You can’t keep doing that!”

“Hey Thomas,” Minho smiled warmly. Thomas tried not to let it affect him, but he might have had a drink or two.

“You keep leaving me all the time,” It was hard not to make it sound like a whine.

“You didn’t want to dance,”

“Well you brought me to this party, you can’t just leave whenever you feel like it…”

Minho turned to face him completely, smile morphing into a smirk. Thomas was puzzled by the change, until he realized Minho’s hands were on his waist. Then things began to click into place. 

Minho purposely left Thomas all those times before, so Thomas would search him out.

Because of the familiarity, finding Minho in the crowd gave him a sense of safety. So when the older boy grabbed his wrist in past parties, or pushed his back from behind so he’d walk in front of him—Thomas hadn’t flinched because at that point, it was welcomed.

“Do you want to dance Thomas?” Minho pulled him closer, whispering in his ear.

“Okay?” he said, voice faint. 

This wasn’t necessary; Minho had achieved his goal and they were on campus, not at his cousin’s wedding. Despite that, he leaned in and didn’t bother resisting, heart beating erratically at their closeness, but for a change not because he felt claustrophobic.

As Minho pulled him back inside by the wrist, Thomas couldn’t help thinking Minho was enjoying this a little too much. 

Let’s see if he was still enjoying himself, after meeting the Edittons.

—

A/N: Happy 2019 Lovelies!! Sorry this is a short chapter opposed to my usual, but these scenes were written and refused to be ignored, so here we are!! Been rolling in some serious amount of inspiration for my Thominho stories and more to come!! I’m so excited!!

~Love much <3