you say the dumbest things thomas

  • when the MC first met Hunt: nice to meet you where you been
  • whenever the MC has the option to flirt with Hunt: I could show you incredible things
  • pretty much what people's reactions would be like if the MC dated Hunt: magic, madness, heaven, sin
  • when the MC first met Hunt again: saw you there and I thought
  • fangirls: oh my god
  • jawline: look at that face
  • probably Hunt's reaction to all this: you look like my next mistake
  • sort of the attitude the MC has on the date: love's a game, wanna plaaaay
  • benefactor maybe: new money, suit and tie
  • "deep down you hoped it was me!" : I can read you like a magazine
  • that idea someone posted about the MC being blackmailed with info about her relationship with Hunt: ain't it funny, rumors lie
  • Hunt's attitude basically: and I know you heard about me
  • we should hang out some time tommy boy: so hey, let's be friends
  • fucking ending to the hunt date: I'm dying to see how this one ends
  • hunt wears prada: grab your passport and my hand
  • hunt wears prada pt 2: I can make the bad guys good for a weekend
  • --chorus--
  • when the mask is still on: SO IT'S GONNA BE FOREVER
  • once the mask is off: OR IT'S GONNA GO DOWN IN FLAMES
  • kind of what the MC is conveying once Hunt gets mad about the seduction: you can tell me when it's over
  • "this whole night was a mistake?" "I didn't say that" : if the high was worth the pain
  • addison, ethan, chris, victoria: got a long list of ex-lovers
  • probably why they keep on going all over-the-top with the dates (because maybe we're high maintenance): they'll tell you I'm insane
  • the MC is technically dating as many people as she wants: 'cause you know I love the players
  • lol hunt doesn't love the game: and you love the game
  • whenever MC has 'yolo' attitude: 'cause we're young and we're reckless
  • was kissing hunt too far: we'll take this way too far
  • hunt's attitude during the date: it'll leave you breathless
  • hunt's attitude afterwards: or with a nasty scar
  • addison, ethan, chris, victoria: got a long list of ex-lovers
  • probably why they keep on going all over-the-top with the dates (because maybe we're high maintenance): they'll tell you I'm insane
  • "insanely hot professor" : but I got a blank space baby and I'll write your name
  • --chorus ends--
  • what do I put for this one: cherry lips, crystal skies
  • whenever the MC has the option to flirt with Hunt: I could show you incredible things
  • if Hunt kisses the MC during the date: stolen kisses, pretty lies
  • they're both celebrities: you're the king baby I'm your queen
  • whenever the MC tries getting close to hunt: find out what you want
  • this only works if the MC is a girl: be that girl for a month
  • once hunt takes off the MC's mask: wait the worst is yet to cooooome, oh no
  • fangirls' reactions to the date's ending: screaming, crying, perfect storms
  • if your MC is one of the rude ones: I can make all the tables turn
  • implied to be Hunt's impression of the MC: rose gardens filled with thorns
  • what HUNT does to US: keep you second guessing like
  • apparently priya singh: oh my god, who is she
  • "what we could have been, thomas": I get drunk on jealousy
  • whenever hunt lets his softer side show: but you'll come back each time you leave
  • also Hunt's impression: 'cause darling I'm a nightmare dressed like a daydream
  • --skipping the chorus you already know--
  • dat angst with hunt's date tho: boys only want love if it's torture
  • well the MC DID drop hints: don't say I didn't, say I didn't warn ya
  • hunt's date struck a chord with me and I'm not even part of the hunt crush: boys only want love if it's torture
  • seriously MC dropped hints: don't say I didn't, say I didn't warn yaaAAA
  • (I was only going to do the first verse but I got carried away goddammit)

anonymous asked:

part two for the jamilton????? Please???????

You got it my dude. Read part one here.

James was going to end this. Neither Thomas nor Hamilton had talked to him or each other in over a week. James had approximately three friends, and he didn’t appreciate that two of them were ignoring his existence.

He had worked it all out with Mr. Washington, who had trusted James with a key to his office on the condition that James clean up any mess Hamilton and Thomas might make as they hashed things out. Knowing those two, Washington was expecting things to break. James had seen him leaving the school with a box full of his most valuable things.

Thomas arrived first. He didn’t seem happy to see James standing by the door of the office.

“I never would have agreed to come if Washington had told me you would be here,” Thomas said, looking at James with disdain. Madison didn’t respond. “Where is Washington anyways?”

James shrugged. “He said he’d be back in a few minutes.”

Thomas scoffed. “Well I’m waiting inside the office. Don’t follow.”

“Whatever,” James rolled his eyes, but inside he was celebrating. This was exactly how he had planned it.

Hamilton came a few minutes later.

“Where’s Washington?” He asked, making no attempt at greeting James.

James simply pointed inside the office. Hamilton walked inside, and as soon as he did, James slammed the door shut and locked it.

“Now talk,” he yelled through the door. “Call me when you’ve figured it all out. I’ll be able to tell if you’re lying.” And with that, he left the school.

Inside the office, both boys were swearing at the door, unaware that Madison was long out of earshot.

Eventually, they realized that James wasn’t coming back and moved to opposite corners, desperate to get as far away from each other as possible.

“That bastard,” Thomas muttered, still in disbelief. He never would’ve though James would pull something like this.

“Why do you have to use that word?” Hamilton asked.

Jefferson looked up at the smaller boy. He had his arms crossed defensively across his chest and he was staring intensely at a spot on the floor. He had a hurt look on his face, which surprised Thomas. He had been insulting James, not Hamilton.

“What word?” Thomas asked.

“You know what word I mean,” Hamilton spat. “The one you called me the other day.”

“What, a bastard? What’s so bad about that?”

Hamilton rolled his eyes and shifted his glare towards Thomas. “My parents weren’t married. I’m illegitimate and I don’t like being reminded of that fact.”

Thomas returned Hamilton’s glare, but on the inside he was dumbfounded. He had never made the connection between Hamilton’s past and the insult he threw around so casually. It made his heart hurt, but he couldn’t let Hamilton know that.

“Yeah, and?”

Hamilton’s jaw dropped. “Why are you so mean?” He started pacing the floor, still careful to keep his distance from Jefferson. “What did I ever do to you to justify this level of cruelty? Do you just take some sort of sick pleasure in seeing others in pain? Because that’s what you cause, Jefferson. For four years, you’ve done nothing but insult me and kill my self-esteem, but do you care? No. You just keep doing it. And then the other day, when Madison told me…what he told me, I dared to think that maybe, for a second, you had moved past filling every day of my life with meanness, but then it turned out to be some elaborate prank just to humiliate me. Ha, look at Hamilton, he was gullible enough to actually believe that someone actually liked him. And not just anyone, Thomas Jefferson, the hottest, most popular guy in school. What a loser.”

Finished with his speech and still not believing he had actually said some of the things he said, Hamilton sunk to the floor. He pulled at his hair and let it fall in front of his face, trying to hide the tears that were falling.

Thomas felt tears coming to his eyes. After a few moments of internal struggle—it felt more like an eternity to him—Thomas made the decision to let down his facade. He sat down on the floor across from Hamilton.

“It wasn’t a prank,” he said quietly, fidgeting with a thread in Washington’s carpet.

“What?” Hamilton snapped.

“It wasn’t a prank,” Thomas repeated, “what happened at James’s house. James…he was just trying to help and I royally screwed it up. Look, Hami—Alexander,” Thomas looked around the office, anywhere but Hamilton’s eyes, trying to get up the nerve to say what he needed to say. “I really like you. I’ve had a crush on you since the day we met. I thought—I hoped—that it would pass, but four years later I still get the same butterflies every time I look at you. And I tried everything I could to crush those butterflies, because I knew that there was no way that someone as amazing as you would ever like someone like me. I tried to hate you, I really did. But I’ve never been able to escape those goddamn butterflies.”

“If you really like me as much as you say you do, then why are you so mean all the time?” Both boys were still avoiding eye contact.

Thomas bit his lip and felt tears start to slip out of his eyes. At the back of his mind he vaguely realized that his makeup was going to run again, but he hoped Hamilton would be able to ignore that and take what he was about to say seriously.

“My d…” Thomas’s voice faltered, which caught Hamilton’s attention. He raised his head up a little as Thomas took a shaky breath and started over. “My dad died when I was fourteen. At that point I had barely figured out that I liked guys, or anyone for that matter. I had never thought to ask my dad for dating advice, because I had never thought about dating. And then he died, and you moved here not too long after, and I realized that you were what I wanted, and I had no way of knowing how to talk to you. My sisters were always told that if a boy was mean to them, it meant he liked them. And that was what I tended to see when I looked at other guys flirting. I saw Adams picking on Abigail on the middle school playground, and Burr teasing Theodosia about her grades in earth science. So, I tried it. Needless to say, it didn’t work. By the time I realized that, I couldn’t come clean because I couldn’t justify being so mean if I liked you, so I pretended I didn’t. I pretended I hated you in hopes that maybe someday I would and I wouldn’t care so much about what you think about me. That it wouldn’t hurt so much that you hated me.”

Hamilton was now staring at Jefferson, who was looking at the ground, mascara running down his cheeks. Hamilton had never known about Thomas’s past.

“Jefferson…” he started. “That is the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”

Thomas winced and Hamilton realized his mistake.

“No no no no, I don’t mean your thing with your dad, or that I don’t believe you. I just meant… the whole ‘if a guy is mean to you it means he likes you’ thing. But you didn’t know any better.” Hamilton moved closer and put his hand on Jefferson’s arm. “I don’t hate you, Thomas.”

“You don’t?” Thomas sniffled. “But I’ve been so horrible to you. You have every right in the world to hate me.”

“It’s like you said,” Hamilton said with a small smile, “I wouldn’t care so much about your opinion if I hated you.”

“I’m so sorry,” Thomas said. “I’m sorry that I made your life hell. I should’ve just come clean from the start. At least then you could’ve rejected me and I could’ve moved on and neither of us would’ve had to go through so much pain.”

Hamilton was silent for a moment. “You know,” he said slowly, “I’m not sure I would have rejected you. Not at first. I mean, I’m a long way from forgiving you completely, but I’m sorry that I never tried to get to know you. That I never let my guard down enough to see past the outside.”

Thomas finally met Hamilton’s eyes. “I know what I’m telling you isn’t really okay. I know I don’t deserve forgiveness and I know I certainly don’t deserve you. But can we try to be friends? And maybe, one day, move past this?”

Hamilton nodded. “I’d like that. I want to be your friend. I really do. And maybe… maybe sometime in the future we can talk about something more.”

Thomas looked at Hamilton with gratitude in his eyes. “Thank you so much.”

Hamilton smiled and wiped at the streaks on Thomas’s cheeks. “You know, I didn’t know you wore mascara until last week. I always thought your eyes were just naturally pretty.”

Thomas blushed a deep red and choked out a breathy chuckle. “They’re not…I’m not pretty.”

“A lot of people would beg to differ,” Hamilton said gently. “Myself included.”

“You’re making this friends thing kind of hard,” Thomas chuckled.

Hamilton laughed. “Sorry. I’m just flirtatious by nature, I guess. And for the record, that’s how you talk to a boy you like.”

Thomas knitted his brows together. “Wait…”

Hamilton winked at him and stood up. “Maybe you could give it a try and the future could come a lot sooner. But for now, let’s call James and get out of here.”

“Yeah, okay,” Thomas said, fumbling for his phone.

As the dial tone rang, one thought went through Thomas’s mind: Forgiveness. Can you imagine?

“Prompt 323 and 172 with TJeff, please?” 323. “Who brought pot brownies to the bake sale?!” and 172. “I’m starting an idiot jar. Any time you do or say anything idiotic, you have to put at least a dollar in it—more depending on how stupid the thing that you said or did was.”

Okay, before we start, this fic has drugs in it. So, if edible marijuana bothers you, just don’t read it. Enjoy! x

Today was the day, the day of the bake sale. You could not be less excited for this. You and a couple of your friends were raising money to make a trip to the capital for spring break.

You weren’t really a fan of sitting outside in the heat, surrounded by your arguing friends. You love your friends, but most of them can’t sit in one place together for more than ten minutes without fighting. And you were supposed to go to the capital with them.  

“Thomas! Could you set that table up for me please!” You called from your car.

“Sure babe, do you want me to start putting the desserts on the table too?”

“Yeah that’d be great, I’ll be over there in a sec!” You pulled the cupcakes your roommate made out of the passenger seat. You really tried to make edible cupcakes by yourself, but unfortunately that was not going to happen.

Walking over to where the bake sale and your friends were, you noticed your boyfriend, Thomas Jefferson, and Alexander Hamilton were already arguing about the table’s set up.

“Alright who had four and a half minutes?” John Laurens called over the shouting.

You chose to ignore him, you did a quick scan of your friends.

“Okay, I think everyone’s here. Everyone brought something right?” You called over everyone’s chatter.

“Yes, everyone did! I checked as everyone was arriving,” Eliza Schuyler said from her spot next to her sisters.

“Great, let’s start selling then. Or just, wait for someone to show up and buy stuff,” You sighed and sat yourself down next to Thomas.


It’s been about three hours since you set up the bake sale, and it was slow for a while, but quickly picked itself up around the second hour. The strange thing was, some of the people came back to buy more. At first, you didn’t question it. You figured, ‘Hey, that means they like it. Maybe we’ll reach our goal after all!’ But then, as more people kept coming back, you grew suspicious.

You didn’t ask about it though, until the same man came back a third time. This time with friends.

“Three brownies, that’ll be six dollars sir. Sir, before you go, why did you come back again?” You ask curiously, handing him the brownies.

“Hahah lady! Those brownies made me high off my ass! This is the coolest bake sale I’ve ever been to!” He giggled, his two friends laughing behind him.

Your eyes widened, you heard gasps and murmurs behind you where everyone else was seated. You nodded and thanked him as the three boys left, before grabbing the plate of brownies and whirling around.

“Who brought pot brownies to the bake sale?!” You snapped angrily at the now silent group of people.

It was silent for several long seconds, as everyone exchanged looks. Then, Eliza, dear, sweet, Eliza, spoke up from her spot, “I may be wrong, but didn’t Thomas?” She said nervously.

“Of course,” Alexander scoffed.

You looked at Thomas, who was looking anywhere but at you. “Thomas?” You said, voice flat.

He cleared his throat, “Yes, babe?” He said, still not looking at you.

“Don’t you ‘Yes, babe’ me! Come here!” You cried, grabbing his arm and pulling him about ten feet away from the group.

“What were you thinking! Why did you think this was a good idea? No you didn’t think, you never think!” You whisper-screamed at him. He opened his mouth to speak, but you interrupted him. “This is, by far, the dumbest thing you’ve ever done! What am I going to do with you!? You know what? I’m starting an idiot jar. Any time you do or say anything idiotic, you have to put at least a dollar in it—more depending on how stupid the thing that you said or did was.” You took a deep breath, before starting again. “And guess what Thomas? This has got to be worth about a hundred dollars!”

After your little rant, you crossed your arms and glared up at him. “Anything you want say, Thomas?”

He cleared his throat again, “I… Thought it would be… Funny…” Thomas stammered nervously.

You sighed and rubbed your temple in frustration, then went back to the group. You could see all of your friends staring at you, but you honestly couldn’t care less. You were so mad at Thomas, you just sat down and put your head into your hands.


The rest of the day went pretty much how you expected it would go. You didn’t sell everything, but you sold a lot of the desserts.

Angelica had come to comfort you about your idiot boyfriend around the same time Thomas left. You weren’t sure where he went, but frankly you didn’t care.

Then, just as you were all done packing everything up, Thomas returned with grocery bags.

Angelica nudged your shoulder and nodded towards Thomas, you sighed and reluctantly walked over to him.

Crossing your arms over your chest, you glared up at him for the second time that day.

“I know you’re mad,” Thomas sighed, “But maybe this’ll make up for that?” He handed you the grocery bags.

In one bag, was a bunch of your favorite snacks. Ice cream, candy, chips, drinks. It was a lot of food and frankly, you were pretty excited. Not that you’d tell him that.

In the second bag, was a huge, glass, jar. You turned the jar over and in big, black letters, it read: THOMAS’ IDIOT JAR.

You looked up at him with your eyebrows raised, “I’m still mad, but this is actually really funny. You actually made a jar.” You laughed.

“So? Are we good?” Thomas said nervously.

“We’re good!” You laughed. “I’m still kind of mad though,” you added.

You handed the bag of forgiveness snacks to Thomas and grabbed his other hand, pulling him back towards the group with a small smile, ready to pitch the next spring break fundraiser idea. And it definitely had something to do with the Idiot Jar.  

I hope you enjoyed this one! Also, I don’t know anything about drugs. x

[…] What if something was seriously wrong with this guy? What
if he’d been … stung? What if—Thomas snapped out of it—the Runner obviously needed help.
“Alby!” he shouted. “Newt! Somebody get them!”
Thomas sprinted to the older boy and knelt down beside him. “Hey—you okay?” The Runner’s head rested on outstretched arms as he panted, his chest heaving. He was conscious, but Thomas had never seen someone so exhausted.
“I’m … fine,” he said between breaths, then looked up. “Who the klunk are you?”
“I’m new here.” […] “I’m Thomas—been here just a couple of days.”
The Runner pushed himself up into a sitting position, his black hair matted to his skull with sweat. “Oh, yeah, Thomas,” he huffed. “Newbie. You and the chick.”
Alby jogged up then, clearly upset. “What’re you doin’ back, Minho? What happened?”
“Calm your wad, Alby,” the Runner replied, seeming to gain strength by the second. “Make yourself useful and get me some water—I dropped my pack out there somewhere.”
But Alby didn’t move. He kicked Minho in the leg—too hard to be playful. “What happened?”
“I can barely talk, shuck-face!” Minho yelled, his voice raw. “Get me some water!”
Alby looked over at Thomas, who was shocked to see the slightest hint of a smile flash across his face before vanishing in a scowl. “Minho’s the only shank who can talk to me like that without getting his butt kicked off the Cliff.”
Then, surprising Thomas even more, Alby turned and ran off, presumably to get Minho some water.
Thomas turned toward Minho. “He lets you boss him around?”
Minho shrugged, then wiped fresh beads of sweat off his forehead. “You scared of that pip-squeak? Dude, you got a lot to learn. Freakin’ Newbies.” The rebuke hurt Thomas far more than it should have, considering he’d known this guy all of three
minutes. “Isn’t he the leader?”
“Leader?” Minho barked a grunt that was probably supposed to be a laugh. “Yeah, call him leader all you want. Maybe we should call him El Presidente. Nah, nah—Admiral Alby. There you go.” He rubbed his eyes, snickering as he did so.
Thomas didn’t know what to make of the conversation—it was hard to tell when Minho was joking.
“So who is the leader if he isn’t?”
“Greenie, just shut it before you confuse yourself more.” Minho sighed as if bored, then muttered, almost to himself, “Why do you shanks always come in here asking stupid questions? It’s really
“What do you expect us to do?” Thomas felt a flush of anger. Like you were any different when you first came, he wanted to say.
“Do what you’re told, keep your mouth shut. That’s what I expect.”
Minho had looked him square in the face for the first time with that last sentence, and Thomas scooted
back a few inches before he could stop himself. He realized immediately he’d just made a mistake—he couldn’t let this guy think he could talk to him like that.
He pushed himself back up onto his knees so he was looking down at the older boy. “Yeah, I’m sure that’s exactly what you did as a Newbie.”
Minho looked at Thomas carefully. Then, again staring straight in his eyes, said, “I was one of the first Gladers, slinthead. Shut your hole till you know what you’re talking about.”
Thomas, now slightly scared of the guy but mostly fed up with his attitude, moved to get up. Minho’s hand snapped out and grabbed his arm.
“Dude, sit down. I’m just playin’ with your head. It’s too much fun—you’ll see when the next Newbie…” He trailed off, a perplexed look wrinkling his eyebrows. “Guess there won’t be another Newbie, huh?”
[…] “Guess not.”
Minho squinted slightly, as if he was studying Thomas. “You saw the chick, right? Everybody says you probably know her or something.”
Thomas felt himself grow defensive. “I saw her. Doesn’t really look familiar at all.” […]
“She hot?”
[…] He remembered how beautiful she was. “Yeah, I guess she’s hot.”
Minho leaned back until he lay flat, eyes closed. “Yeah, you guess. If you got a thing for chicks in comas, right?” He snickered again.
“Right.” Thomas was having the hardest time figuring out if he liked Minho or not—his personality seemed to change every minute. After a long pause, Thomas decided to take a chance. “So …,” he asked cautiously, “did you find anything today?”
Minho’s eyes opened wide; he focused on Thomas. “You know what, Greenie? That’s usually the dumbest shuck-faced thing you could ask a Runner.” He closed his eyes again. “But not today.”
“What do you mean?”[…]
“Just wait till the fancy admiral gets back. I don’t like saying stuff twice. Plus, he might not want you to hear it anyway.”
Thomas sighed. He wasn’t in the least bit surprised at the non-answer. “Well, at least tell me why you look so tired. Don’t you run out there every day?”
Minho groaned as he pulled himself up and crossed his legs under him. “Yeah, Greenie, I run out there every day. Let’s just say I got a little excited and ran extra fast to get my bee-hind back here.”
“Why?” Thomas desperately wanted to hear about what happened out in the Maze.
Minho threw his hands up. “Dude. I told you. Patience. Wait for General Alby.”
Something in his voice lessened the blow, and Thomas made his decision. He liked Minho.
“Okay, I’ll shut up. Just make sure Alby lets me hear the news, too.”
Minho studied him for a second. “Okay, Greenie. You da boss.”
Alby walked up a moment later with a big plastic cup full of water and handed it to Minho, who gulped
down the whole thing without stopping once for breath. […]

Chapter 12, The Maze Runner by James Dashner

Favourite Minho (book) appearances [1/?]