#Watch as none of these are in the same art style | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bapple117 · 1 month

Text

Memory Reboot - A One-Sided Radiostatic One-Shot (Vox x Alastor)

Third person - Fluff, Pining, Angst - mild adult references

~ A03 Link ~ text is also included below after the break ~ excuse the crappy art ~

Summary: Every now and then, Vox allows himself a trip down memory lane; back to when he and Alastor were good friends. This night, Vox rediscovers an old bit of memorabilia that has him reminiscing, all about one night when he and the Radio Demon shared a drink or two. The memory is a bittersweet reminder of what could have been, and what almost happened; lips meeting for the sweetest of stolen moments.

---------------------------------

Vox stumbles into his room, clumsy and heavy with drink. He bashes his head into the door as it rebounds; groaning, he rubs at his screen with a grimace.

Drinking alone is always a bad idea. With the other two Vees both out for the night, Vox had allowed himself a little more stalking than he usually does; drinking in his surveillance room, watching and rewatching clips of the Radio Demon going about his day. It’s obsessive; Vox knows it is. He still can’t help himself.

He teeters wildly on his legs now, looking through his belongings for some painkillers for the inevitable screen-ache he’ll have in the morning; where the fuck are they?!

Not a single drawer he searches yields any results. Vox tosses items left and right, searching through masses of cables and piles of clothes. He rifles through his bathroom cabinet, knocking down an assortment of pill bottles in the process; none of them what he needs right now.

“Fuck my life,” the Television Demon mutters to himself.

On his hands and knees, he pulls out a bottom drawer from a huge dresser. Vox moves sloppily with inebriation as he pilfers through all the junk and bric-a-brac. And then - his hand is on something that feels familiar yet forgotten all at once. Vox pulls it out; and there it is.

His electric heart shudders within his chest.

The tiny die-cast CRT TV model that Alastor had gifted to him years ago. So many years ago. So long ago, in-fact, that when Alastor had presented Vox with this small model, it had been exactly what Vox’s own head had looked like. A chunky, heavy, 70s television. Long outdated technology, these days, of course; Vox has upgraded several times over the years since then.

Vox can hardly believe his tired eyes; it’s been years since he thought about this. He remembers the night Alastor gave it to him all too well - too painfully well. Vox sighs; his sadness threatening to leak into the forefront of his drink-weakened mind.

The search for the painkillers now given up on and forgotten, Vox crawls to his bed and lays on it in the dark, the small metal totem still in his hand. Neon lights from the city outside dance and skitter on the walls. Vox stares at the ceiling.

He can’t help himself; the memory begins to play in his mind, like an old VHS recording, discovered and dusty. Vox usually represses these memories, but for some reason, he allows this one to consume his thoughts this night. He drifts off into it; a broken heart indulging itself despite the pain.

---------------------------------

It’s the past. Long, long ago; some time in the 1970s. Vox is drinking with Alastor - the Radio Demon, his friend. They are drinking together in Alastor’s old apartment, sharing each other’s company in the easy way that they used to. The apartment is full of antique furniture and vintage radio paraphernalia; Vox has been here many times, and yet he always eyes Alastor’s decor with the same dry observations.

“You really need to get with the times, Al,” Vox says. “Get some more modern stuff.”

The Television Demon gawks at himself in an ornate mirror on the wall; his on-screen features blink back at him, set in his wide CRT TV head.

“Nonsense,” Alastor calls from the kitchen. “There’s nothing wrong with my decor choices. Some things never go out of style.”

Vox huffs in amusement to himself. Secretly, he adores Alastor’s presentation. Vox looks up to the Radio Demon; he admires him. Vox wants to be just like Alastor, really. Powerful, respected, smart, classy. Alastor is everything Vox wants to be. At this point in time, Vox is a much weaker Overlord than Alastor, having only been in Hell for less than twenty years. It’s never an issue between them, of course, but Vox knows he is inferior. One day, he’ll be better.

The Television Demon joins his friend in the kitchen then; Alastor is pouring new glasses of drink for them. Something expensive.

“Woah,” Vox says, laughing. “What are we celebrating?”

“Well, I was wondering when you’d ask,” Alastor says sassily. “I took down another one of my rivals today.”

Vox blinks. His screen buzzes.

“Another Overlord?” He asks, both impressed and appalled.

Alastor nods, pleased.

“Don’t look so surprised,” Alastor says, grinning. “It was no effort at all, really. Hardly worth you looking so gormless over. What fun it was though!”

Vox laughs nervously.

“Well, uh, that’s great, Al!” He says, accepting the drink. “You gotta promise not to ever try and take me down like that though, huh?”

It’s a weak joke; both demons know that it stinks of a true fear. Alastor scoffs.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Vox,” the Radio Demon says. “How long have we known each other now, hmm?”

Vox scans his memories to try and answer accurately.

“Uhhh… Well years,” he says. “Almost two decades.”

“Exactly. And have I ever once betrayed you?” Alastor asks, gesturing for them to sit at the table.

Vox follows Alastor’s lead and sits.

“I guess not,” Vox says.

The two demons sit in silence for a while; which is odd, given how prone to idle conversation they both usually are. Alastor hums along to a jazz tune playing in the background; Vox fiddles with his glass.

Alastor is deep in contented thought; eyes closed, a red claw tapping at the table to the rhythm of the song. Vox takes a gulp of his drink, still not knowing what it is; his question is answered as soon as it hits his throat. Some kind of very strong spiced rum, neat on ice. The Television Demon coughs a little, white noise filling the silence. Alastor grins.

Vox looks up at his friend then; sees his smile. His own grin creeps up on to his screen. How simple it is between them; how easy it’s always been. Just the two of them. Alastor doesn’t have many friends; Vox is honoured to be one of them. Friends. Vox wishes they were so much more.

“You know,” Vox says then, staring at his drink. “We could be something. Together, I mean.”

Alastor’s neck snaps a little as his head twitches to the side in confusion.

“Something?”

Vox hastens to clarify.

“You know. A team. Take down Overlords together,” he says.

Alastor seems to genuinely consider this for a moment; he drifts away into the thought of it. Vox lets himself hope for a second; his hopes are dashed just as quickly.

“Hmm,” Alastor says. “You know me, though! I prefer to work solo.”

Vox slumps a little. His work shirt sleeves are rolled up messily; one begins to loosen from its turn-up, so he focuses on re-rolling it.

“I know,” he says. “Doesn’t it ever get lonely, though?”

“I don’t think so,” Alastor says, amused.

“Oh.”

The Radio Demon ponders this for a beat longer; he senses he has insulted his friend somehow. This is meant to be a nice evening celebrating his latest victory; Alastor supposes he should show a little courtesy to keep things jovial.

“I suppose it does, sometimes,” Alastor says.

Vox feels his inner wiring twisting in his abdomen.

“Oh?”

Alastor rolls his eyes; must he elaborate?

“Well, I suppose having more allies couldn’t hurt,” he says.

“Oh, well,” Vox says. “I could… I could be that for you?”

Alastor grins.

“In your current state, I feel you may not be of any use to me, Vox old pal,” Alastor teases. “Come back to me when you’re stronger, hmm?”

The Radio Demon knocks playfully on the side of Vox’s clunky CRT head; it echoes within him. Vox knows that Alastor only means this as a cheeky gibe between friends; it wounds him all the same.

Vox lets out a nervous laugh as response and tries to conceal the hurt.

The night is salvaged somewhat; the two demons continue to drink into the early hours. They chat, they listen to music, they share stories about various occurrences in Hell. Despite the fact they are undying souls in burning eternity, they are also both something else; two beings who both died as young men, now frozen in time.

Alastor isn’t who he’ll truly be just yet; neither is Vox. In this memory, they are their younger, slightly sweeter selves. It’s enough to make present-day Vox cry with how much he’d give anything to have those days back.

Towards the end of the night, the two demons sit side by side together, wasted. They use the sofa as a backrest as they sit sloppily on the floor. Vox hiccups and it sounds like a channel being changed; Alastor laughs.

“You know,” the Radio Demon starts. “I do enjoy these little chats of ours, despite our conflicting technology.”

Vox is giddy; he nods, eager.

“One day I’m gonna be great, Al,” Vox says, suddenly. “I’m gonna build an empire. It’s gonna be huge.”

Alastor smiles; it’s the soft, fond smile of a friend humouring someone.

“Is that so?”

“Yeah,” Vox says, slurring slightly. “And I’ll be as strong as you - no! - even stronger.”

Alastor is laughing; genuine and warm. Vox grins wide at the sound of it.

“I’ll take over all of Hell!” Vox says, clenching a fist.

Alastor chuckles.

“Hm. That sounds nice,” he says, drunk and feeling it.

“Well,” Vox starts. “You’ll be there with me, right?”

Alastor quirks his head.

“Will I?”

“Sure! We’ll do it together,” Vox says, wicked intent on his screened features. “We’ll rule Hell together. No fucker will cross us with our combined skills.”

Alastor is giggling; Vox wants to climb into the sound of it and live there.

“Well, that is a lofty concept, to be sure,” Alastor says. “But it is pleasing, I have to admit. You truly do get some devious ideas don’t you?”

“Fuck yeah I do!” Vox says, delighted.

Alastor smiles to himself, looking away.

“Well, if that ever comes to fruition, you can count on me being there,” he says.

“Yeah?!” Vox is beaming. “I can’t wait for what the future brings, Al. This old thing will be the first to get an upgrade, that’s for sure.”

Vox taps his own head; even now in the late 70s, his TV set head is looking a bit vintage. Vox just needs to wait for Earth technology to advance and filter down; he can’t wait to be better. Stronger. Faster. Alastor tenses as a thought seems to come to him.

“That reminds me!” The Radio Demon says. “I have something for you.”

Alastor retrieves something from his pocket and hands it to a captivated Vox; it's a tiny metal die-cast model of a Sony Triniton KV-1820UB television set. It looks just like Vox’s current head.

“Here you are,” Alastor says, pleased with himself.

Vox is enamoured; the Radio Demon doesn’t do gifts. This is special; it means Vox is special.

“Al, I don’t know what to say,” Vox says, his nerves alive and crackling. “I can’t believe you got this for me… I love it.”

Alastor grins wide.

“I got one for me, too,” he says, holding up a tiny model of an old radio. “I found a charming boutique selling all kinds of little novelties. Aren’t they fun?”

Vox is astonished; not only did Alastor get him a gift, he got one for himself to match. This surely is symbolic? Vox’s receivers are scrabbling to interpret the signals Alastor is giving off.

“Wow, yeah, that’s uh… That’s cute, Al,” Vox says, shakily. “It’s not like you to give gifts.”

Alastor laughs.

“Well. My conquest today put me in an especially good mood, I suppose,” he says.

Vox nods.

“Thank you, Al,” he says, screen blinking. “I will treasure this. I mean it.”

Alastor’s quota for sincerity has reached its limit; eager to return the conversation to playful jibes and gossip, the Radio Demon scoffs. Vox grins; he knows Alastor hates to be perceived as kind, despite the fact he can be. Vox shoves himself into Alastor’s shoulder in a playful bump.

“You’re goin’ soft on me, old man,” Vox jokes; Alastor pretends to be aghast.

“Old man?” He scorns. “How dare you, Vox. I only died two decades before you and we were both more or less the same age at death. Watch your tongue.”

Vox chuckles to himself. The two demons sit together for a little while longer in peaceful quiet; Vox’s mind is full of static. He’s processing, thinking. Vox has tried to broach this topic before, but he can’t help himself; he needs to push it again.

“Hey, uh, Al?” He says.

Alastor looks at him and hums an acknowledgement. Vox’s gaze shifts around nervously.

“Do you remember that… conversation, we had a while ago?” Vox says.

Alastor does remember; he pretends for now that he doesn’t. He shakes his head. Vox exhales shakily.

“Look, I, uh… I know you don’t like talking about… feelings, and stuff, but…”

Alastor wants this nipped in the bud as soon as possible.

“Is this about your infatuation, hmm?” The Radio Demon says, trying to sound casual about it. “I’ve told you Vox. It will pass, it’s just a-“

“No,” Vox says, urgent. “It won’t, Al, and you know it.”

Vox grabs Alastor’s hand; the Radio Demon doesn’t recoil. He lets his claws sit limply within Vox’s; a tiny concession for this display of vulnerability. And anyway; they’ve linked hands before, when dancing or fleeing a crime scene, or such. No big deal. Alastor sighs.

“You know I can’t give you want you want,” he says, radio filter slipping away. “This is all I can give you. My time. My friendship, my consort to you as a fellow Overlord.”

Vox is exasperated.

“Can’t you give me just a little bit more?” He asks.

Alastor avoids the Television Demon’s gaze.

“I don’t think so,” he says.

Vox grabs Alastor’s chin in his, then; pulling it in his direction to make Alastor look at him.

“How do you know you won’t like it?” Vox says. “You’ve never even tried it.”

Alastor blushes at the sudden contact, the intrusiveness of it. He’s flustered simply because Vox is being so forward; any sign of aggressive intent is entertaining to Alastor, of course.

“Why don’t you let me just try?” Vox says, his voice a thin whine.

“Vox, old friend, come on now-“

“Why won’t you let me just kiss you?” Vox whispers. “Please, Al.”

Alastor hesitates; if he relents, will it be enough to just shut Vox up about this once and for all? This topic cropping up every couple of years is getting tiresome. And... he does care about Vox. Alastor loves him, in his own way; platonic but true.

“Please, Al,” Vox murmurs, his eyes fixed on Alastor’s lips. “I’m begging you. I know it’ll feel right when it happens.”

Vox’s hand tightens around Alastor’s chin; he’s trying to pull him inwards. Alastor’s heart rate quickens; annoyingly. He’s a deer in headlights; drunk and unsure how to retaliate. Vox is closing the distance between their faces; Alastor can feel their hot breath exchanging in the small gap between their mouths.

Alastor’s ears are flat against his head; Vox is staring at his lips.

“Please,” he whispers again.

“I don’t… I don’t know,” Alastor whispers back.

“Please,” Vox begs, desperate.

Alastor huffs in defeat, and Vox knows he has won. Vox leans in and presses his screen to Alastor’s mouth; for a moment, the Radio Demon is rigid. But then… his mouth is moving; Vox is elated. Alastor is relenting. Vox cannot believe it. Alastor is kissing him back; his hand at the edge of Vox’s screen. Their mouths move together quickly, the taste of rum amongst it all. Vox's mind is awash with joy.

Yes, YES. Fucking YES! This is it, this is IT!

Vox moans into Alastor’s mouth; he risks letting his tongue breech Alastor’s lips, tries sticking it down Alastor’s throat -

Alastor pulls away; Vox is devastated. Too far.

“Hmm!” Alastor says, recovering, trying to sound light-hearted. “No, still not for me, I don’t think.”

Vox is panting, red in the screen. He’s hard; of course he is. Vox’s eyes dart all over Alastor, looking for signs - proof that he did like it.

“No, Al, come on,” Vox says. “Please, you know it works, WE work, c'maaan!”

Alastor is sad; a part of him does wish he could give Vox what he wants. It would make things so much easier; it would ensure keeping his loyalty, for one. And… well. It would make things a bit less lonely. But Alastor just can’t let himself go there.

“I’m sorry, Vox,” he says, genuinely melancholy. “I’m sorry I can’t give you what you want from me. I really am.”

“No,” Vox is angry. “It cannot be like this, please, we were so close-“

“I think it’s high time we went to bed, hmm?” Alastor says. “You’re in no state to get yourself home. You can sleep on the sofa.”

“Al, stop, just, can we talk about this? Can we try again, I’ll go slower, I promise,” Vox says, grasping at straws.

Alastor smiles weakly. He reaches up and turns one of Vox’s dials fondly; Vox’s erection twitches in his jeans.

“You’ve just had too much to drink, hmm?” Alastor says. “We’ll sleep this off and tomorrow it’ll all be forgotten about.”

Alastor stands then; Vox groans, his screen in his hands.

“We’ll be back to normal tomorrow, eh, old pal?” Alastor says with forced jollity.

Vox sighs; it’s guttural. He looks up at the Radio Demon, agonised.

“I’m never going to be back to normal,” Vox says. “I’m always going to want this. I’m always going to want you.”

Alastor hesitates; he looks forlorn. Only in the eyes, of course; but his smile is a tight, thin line on his face.

“I know," he says.

Vox's heart shatters in his chest; not for the first time.

"Do try to get over it, though, won’t you?” Alastor says, and he turns to leave for his bedroom. “Get some sleep.”

Vox is left alone in the living room; ruined.

---------------------------------

The memory of that night, so many decades ago, drifts away from present-day Vox, just as cruelly as Alastor had slipped from his grasp.

The pain of it - and indeed, remembering what came later - is unbearable; Vox can only cope with these memories now by wanting Alastor dead. Just so he’d be gone for good; just to rid himself of the pain of knowing Vox never got to keep him. He came close, of course; some years later, in the 80s. For a while, Vox had had Alastor; it had been so sweet. Vox doesn’t let himself think on this, for now. It’s too brutal. He’d be a mess; for now, he needs to compose himself. Vox places the die-cast vintage TV model on his bedside table and looks at it for a few beats.

I wonder if Alastor still has his radio model.

I wonder if he still thinks of me.

Vox curls into a ball in his bed; the truth hums around him, thick and heavy, like electricity in the air before a thunderstorm.

He’ll never love me like I love him.

He never did.

---------------------------------

This story continues in:

Bluest Monday

Read all my stuff on AO3 🍎

86 notes · View notes

down-in-the-rainbow-square · 1 year

Text

Being Their Friend

Basically, a summary of what it's like to be each Welcome Home character's best friend!

Words: 1311

Type: Headcanons, platonic

Tw: None! Just fluffiness.

Home

Being Home's best friend means you're probably Wally's best friend too! Or at least you get along pretty well. Either way, you spend a lot of time talking to his house, Home. Though Home can't speak, it does listen pretty well!

A lot of your time with Home is spent rambling about yourself and trying to decipher the noises it makes in return. You two have made up a small system where different noises mean different things. In return for listening to your rambles, you paint pretty pictures on Home's walls and patch it up when it needs a repair.

Wally

Being Wally's friend is really relaxing. Wally's not as energetic as some of his other neighbours, so it's a nice change of pace from the constant hijinks. He's always there to lend an ear and give the best advice he can, or to just listen, if that's what you want.

You two do a lot of art together. It doesn't matter how 'good' you are to Wally - art is art! Stick figures count just as much as the Mona Lisa. If you're not into painting you and Wally will try using crayons, or pencils, or pens, or charcoal! Wally likes to paint you sometimes and you paint him. In the end you both swap paintings and hang them in your houses.

Julie

Julie loves to play games. She's always making up some new rules just to reuse the same premise over and over. These rules can be complicated and can change mid-game, but to Julie that's just the fun of it! She's always making up something new for you guys to do together.

You two also style hair a lot. Julie's hair is incredible in all the different ways it can be styled, so you two like to make it into funny shapes! Julie will also style your hair (if you're not bald), or you two will go and style the hairs of the neighbours!

Julie's also very positive. She's always bringing an optimistic outlook to situations, so she's a good person to go to if you're having trouble with something and need some encouragement. She's always there to help a best friend!

Sally

Being Sally's friend is quite the adventure. You're always up to something fun - or dangerous. Visits to Poppy for check-ups and clean-ups are often. Whether you tripped and fell in the forest or rolled your ankle running down a hill, there's always something going on between you two.

Sally loves to drag you into her plays. You always get the best role by her standards, so apologies if you have stage fright. She always makes you the deuteragonist whenever she can. She'll even cast you as the villain if she has to! Anything to get her bestest best friend a chance to shine!

You often have to be the one to slow Sally down when she's going too far. Just taking a moment to grab her shoulder and have a think for a second; weigh up the consequences of her actions a bit. She's thankful for your help, and pays you back by always being the one ready to help in any situation, no matter how difficult.

Frank

Frank's very intelligent. He knows what he means when he calls you a good friend. When he gives anyone such a title, he means it. Frank's a bit of a grump, so getting to be his friend is much more of an accomplishment compared to his neighbours.

You can come to Frank with any question you have and he will answer it. Even if it takes him time, or if he's doing something when you ask, he will find the time to grab out a book and look up the answer for you. He takes a lot of pride in his knowledge and the knowledge of others, so he always relays it to you in a way that you understand (eventually).

In return, you help Frank with his bug watching explorations. The two of you go out into the forest and look at all the critters making their way around. Frank's not the most athletic person, so you help him with things like climbing trees and whatnot.

Eddie

You'll see Eddie pretty much every day, whether you're his friend or not. He's always there every morning to deliver the mail right to your doorstep. If you see him, he always gives you a smile and a wave before heading off to the next house.

Eddie's a forgetful fellow. You act like his personal reminder, always there to tell him when something is due or what he's got to do that day. It's very helpful for him, as without you he might forget entirely! He's also a bit clumsy, so you patch up any scrapes he has when he falls.

In return, he makes you lots of little gifts. Cards, stuffed toys, origami, anything you can think of. He's even tried his hand at cross-stitching just to make something for you! And he sends you cute letters in the mail telling you how glad he is to have you as a friend.

Howdy

Howdy's a busy fellow, being a shopkeeper and all, so it's hard to get any one-on-one time with him outside of his store. But, being friends, you two try to make arrangements in your schedules anyways. Days off together are rare, but they're always fun.

You spend a lot of him in his store, so much so Howdy bought a special chair just for you to sit and chat in. Sometimes Howdy's too busy to talk, so you just sit there and admire the store or look out the window. But when he is ready for you to talk, he'll always listen to you rant about anything.

In return, Howdy's always ready to offer a bit of pay if you want to help him out while talking. Doing simple things like restocking the shelves or sweeping the floors way not seem like much, but Howdy usually just doesn't have the time. He also gives you special discounts that need a super-secret code to unlock (he told you the code).

Barnaby

Barnaby's a humorous fellow; always looking for a laugh or a smile from his friends - and that includes you! He's always telling you jokes to see that silly smile spread across your face. You two have a 'joke a day' system in which you each see who can make the other smile more. There's no reward or anything, it's just nice to make each other laugh.

Barnaby's also a bit lazy. He doesn't like doing basic chores, so you motivate him to get off the couch and get the dishes done. You've managed to convince him to do the laundry by combining entertainment with it. For each task done he gets to tell you his best joke, and you give him one in return (more 'joke a day' segments, basically).

Poppy

Poppy always worries for her friends. She worries about a lot, actually. But that still includes you! She constantly frets over your condition when you show any signs of illness or injury. It's a constant stream of 'are you alright?' and other similar phrases. She just wants to make sure you're okay!

In compensation for her constant questions, she makes you a lot of baked goods. And by that I mean you use the utensils for her. But the intention still counts! Poppy struggles with a lot of anxiety, and sometimes that's just the best she can do.

Poppy's also always there to patch you up when you get hut. She doesn't ask all those questions for nothing, after all! She's always got a band-aid on hand whenever you need it. Or if you're sick, she bring you some cough medicine. She makes sure to keep stock of your favourite flavour!

413 notes · View notes

starlostastronaut · 7 months

Text

━ TEN THINGS | HYUNJIN

PAIRING: hwang hyunjin x reader

GENRE: fluff

CW: none

part 4 of ten things. we made it! barely, but it's hereee! can you tell i listened to love songs while writing this?

general masterlist here

series masterlist

boyfriend hyunjin who takes you to art galleries to look at paintings and sculptures and tells you random details about them or about the artist

boyfriend hyunjin who lets you braid and style his hair

boyfriend hyunjin who takes sneaky pictures of you that he cherishes, because it captures your true self as he says

boyfriend hyunjin who has his eyes only on you whenever you're in the same room

boyfriend hyunjin who falls asleep with you in his arms on the couch after watching a movie together

boyfriend hyunjin who gets jealous because kkami likes you more than him

boyfriend hyunjin who takes you to paris for you anniversary

boyfriend hyunjin who calls you his prince/princess

boyfriend hyunjin who paints a portrait of you for your birthday

boyfriend hyunjin who stops to kiss you under the stars on the walk back home

©starlostastronaut 2023 | do not repost/translate my work without permission

#hwang hyunjin #fluff #hwang hyunjin imagines #hwang hyunjin headcanons #hwang hyunjin x reader #ten things series

184 notes · View notes

genericpuff · 7 months

Note

I’ve seen some people try and defend Lore Olympus by saying that movies like Hercules and such aren’t accurate to Greek myth, yet they’re still loved. And I somewhat get where they’re coming from, i really do.

BUT- I feel like part of the problem with LO is the fact that if you replace the names, you’d almost be right to assume it takes place in a completely different setting. Meanwhile, if you take away the names from the Hercules movie, you can still tell where it’s supposed to take place. (And who’s who, if you know your myths). Plus the writing of Hercules is 100% better than LO.

The difference between LO and Hercules is that Hercules clearly has respect for the source material put into it. It might not be accurate to the source material - because it's being retooled as a Disney movie for children - but you can tell there's still a lot of thought, love, and effort put into it. The team behind that movie did research on the art and culture of Greece, and adapted it into a movie that was entertaining and recognizable as a Greek myth adaption.

They put our home boy Heracles/Hercules in a tunic! Do you know how shocking that must have looked to American viewers who didn't know a shred of Greek myth and wondered why the big buff hero was being drawn in a skirt? Still accurate though!

LO, meanwhile, writes Greek myth as if it hates Greek myth for existing. It comes across more as a white woman using these stories purely for profit and colonizing it with American-esque culture. The outfits have become noticeably less Greek since the beginning, the characters never eat Greek food anymore, and the locations are left as vague as solid color backdrops to indicate "The Underworld" and "Olympus" without actually showing any set pieces or understanding of how these locations would look and feel in a modern setting.

All of these examples I gave are things we saw a decent amount of in S1. But since then it's just become talking heads on top of flat color backgrounds, eating Chinese food and dressing in American-style clothing. When was the last time we saw a mortal? There's just nothing Greek about the comic anymore because either Rachel has gotten so complacent that she just defaults to what she knows without any research (so what she watches on TV and in movies) or she only bothered with her research in the beginning to get people hooked and convinced that she's a "folklorist" so that they'd keep reading the series and giving her money on good will alone.

Using Hercules as an example of "well it's not accurate to Greek myth either!" completely misses the point of what people are getting at when they say that LO is a bad Greek myth retelling. Guess what else isn't completely accurate to Greek myth? Hadestown. Hades (the game). God of War. Stray Gods. They all take creative liberties with the source material in order to adjust it to the medium and audience they're creating it for, but none of those adaptions are quite as disrespectful as LO's. And God of War literally has little angry man going around and brutally murdering the gods. It still respects the setting of Greek myth more than LO, but unlike LO, it doesn't try to constantly sound smart with its inaccuracies, it knows fully well that it's a video game first and foremost.

And that's the beauty of myths. They can be adapted across generations and used to tell new versions of the same stories. So it begs the question, why bother writing a Greek myth retelling if you're going to make it so non-Greek that you could have just as well just written a normal soap drama and have it still be virtually the same?

Compared to all of the other examples, LO is the definition of confidently incorrect. It should have stuck to just being Greek myth inspired, not a retelling.

#lore olympus critical #lo critical #anti lore olympus #antiloreolympus #ask me anything #ama #anon ama #anon ask me anything

169 notes · View notes

starlvenus · 3 months

Text

Old friends

warnings! none :p sam winchester x gn!reader summary: Sam winchester's hunt wasn't going well.. leading him to a diner where he would reunite with an old friend from Stanford. __

Sam wasn't having a good day so far.. Everything he and Dean were doing for this hunt was all thrown out the window, all of their research was wrong, only because someone gave them a fake tip, leading them to think it was a whole different monster.

The most mundane diner was ahead; the red sign on the roof shined brightly.

Sam sighed pushing the door open, the overhead bell chiming loudly as he entered. The smell of coffee fills his nostrils, only momentarily distracting him from his chaotic day.

His eyes scanned the menu, picking out what he would order, Burgers, Fries, and of course, pie for dean. His eyes narrow slightly as he tries to find a healthier option for himself.

He orders pretty quickly, shooting the waitress a small smile after he finishes. He shuffles in the seat trying to find a comfortable position.

His eyes observe the patrons in the diner. An elderly couple chatting over some coffee, a group of young teenagers, that's when he sees a familiar set of headphones, the sides adorned with those "nerdy" stickers, a nostalgic reminder to his time back at Stanford. Sam couldn't help but watch discreetly, taking in their new look, shorter hair, different style, yet his eyes were drawn onto that same bag.. His eyes scanned its pins and keychains seeing the small cat pin he had gifted was still there. Sitting in the spot he chose, nudged between a video game pin, and a movie pin.

Sam sat there contemplating whether to approach, doubt lingered in Sam's mind. Slightly remembering the times he and Dean were thrown onto tv screens..

readers pov I guess it was a pretty nice day.. I have a day off from work and nothing has gone wrong yet. The diner was pretty small and it had decent food, plus everything I've been drawing hasn't turned to shit!

I got my pencil case out, taking out a few colours, a light blue, pink, yellow, green and a teal. I almost instantly start to colour in the little sketch, layering the colours randomly. My head bobs along to the beat of the song playing in my ears, the headphones slightly getting rid of the noises in the diner. The corners of my lips lift gently, creating a content smile.

It wouldn't take long until I sensed someone looking at me.I tore my eyes away from my book and scanned the diner. My eyes would momentarily pass a familiar figure; this made me do a double take. His eyes widened slightly as I caught him, his eyes quickly darted away focusing on the table in front of him. I look away as well.. A little bit embarrassed. After a few minutes passed I looked back at the man.. Is that Sam? Sam winchester? My mind wanders back to my time in Stanford, Sam and I were pretty much best friends.. Well that's how it felt to me. We met in an Art history class and pretty much became class buddies until one day we decided to meet outside of class. Then one day he pretty much disappeared.. Leaving me disappointed, and without my friend. I sat there for a bit debating if I should go over to him, just to say hi or maybe engage in small talk about how his life was going.

I sat here contemplating whenever to approach him. I decided to pack up my pencils and books, hastily shoving them back into my bag. I removed the headphones from my ears, letting them hang around my neck. Before leaving the table, I put the small mug on top of the plate, making it easier for the waitress to get the dishes. I take a small deep breath and get up. Grabbing my bag and walking over to where Sam sat. whatever pov :p Their boots make heavy footsteps, prompting Sam to look up. Their eyes lock, and they offer a small wave accompanied by a slight smile.

Before they speak, they shuffle into the booth, taking the slightly uncomfortable seat in front of him.

"Hey, um, you're Sam Winchester, right?" Despite already knowing the answer, they feel compelled to confirm, just in case. Sam smiles slightly, his eyes narrowing, trying to place you. "Yeah, It's me.” he pauses “It's Y/N right?" They smile at him recognizing them, "yeah! it's me" they pauses for a bit unsure of what to say to one of their past friends "i- this might be insensitive of me but- what happened? why'd you.. Leave?" Sam looks down, remembering the incident. The memory still burned into his mind. "Family business.” He pauses before speaking again. “I had no say in it, really. It's a long.. complicated story.” His eyes shifted around the diner as his thoughts drifted back to that night. He sighs and continues “But you know that's not important, what have you been up to? You look good”

they swallow and nod, a small reassuring smile on their face. "Oh well thank you! decided to change up a few things.." they mumble slightly. "You look good too! your hairs grown pretty long" Sam grins slightly and looks down, a little embarrassed by the compliment"Yeah, the hair has certainly grown longer" He looks back at you, his eyes searching for something. A question crosses his mind. He remembers the last time you two spoke, he asked about your plans for the future. "How about that degree? Still pursuing it?" They shrug a little “nah.. A few months after you left I realised that it was really for me and I left to do other things..” they fidget with their fingers “But… I still have student loans which is unfortunate” they give Sam an awkward smile, their feet swaying back and forth under the table.

Sam chuckles slightly at your feet swinging, it brought back old memories of you tapping your feet together.

"So, what have you been up to these days? I'm sure your talents were put somewhere else."

Sam and Y/N sit there for ages, just talking about how everything is going, what they have been doing since they last saw each other.. Despite Sam already getting all his food, they continue to sit there just chatting away. It wasn't until Dean called Sam, whining and grumbling about where he was and why he was taking so long.. Sam came up with a quick lie about how the diner was filled with a bunch of people. Sam hangs up and looks at you “look.. im sorry but I've got to get back to my brother” Y/n smiles “oh- yeah that's okay!” They pause and watch him pack up the now lukewarm food. Y/N hesitated before speaking, but went for it “I- do you want my number? Maybe we can chat sometime?” Sam paused, contemplating the offer, and then nodded with a smile, "Yeah, sure."

#sam winchester x reader #supernatural #supernatural x reader #sam winchester #dean winchester #sam x reader #dean winchester x reader #sam winchester x you #dean x you #diners :3 #fluff #gn reader #gender nuetral reader #friends #castiel #spn #spn crack #bobby singer

85 notes · View notes

welcomingdisaster · 2 months

Note

need to keep quiet ft. maedhros rescuing maglor?

@grey-gazania here is my best attempt to fulfill both prompts! pardon the length; it got a little out of hand. <3 ao3

This could have been over quickly, if not for Maglor’s pride.

He is among the least conspicuous of his brothers; dark-haired and grey-eyed, as so many of the Noldor, tall but not excessively so, not particularly fair of face. In his wanderings he had not worn finery—there is none left to wear—and had not held himself particularly apart from the tattered few remaining servants yet by his side.

But one thing he had left.

His silver circlet with the carved orchid, which had been on his brow during his journey aboard the stolen ships. He had set it aside only during his brief reign as regent, forced to take on a heavier, grander crown. As crown prince of the Noldor he returned to it; as the lord of the Gap he had worn it.

For it is among the few pieces of jewelry made by his mother’s hand, and not his father’s; a slightly-awkward foray into art not her own, and yet beautiful for it, the petals of the orchid rendered with the sensibilities of a sculptor. Inside she pressed the name she had given him in beautiful, looping Tengwar.

And even with all lost he had not been able to force himself to discard it.

It had been pressed to his scalp under layers of grime, tangled in locks too heavy with mud and blood to curl. There had been no time to stop and to wash, for they had ridden through conquered land, fleeing from the forces of the Enemy, and thought any stop could be deadly.

Such hurry had not saved them.

Maglor could have put on a better fight. If he had seen the Enemy’s soldiers quicker—if his sword-arm had not been shattered in the battle two months ago and only half-healed— if he had not been choking on the black smoke of the burning lands, his throat too rough for war-songs—if—if—if—

His captors are not orcs. Instead some species of goblin, so short the tops of their heads barely reach his waist but no less vicious for it, victorious through the force of their numbers and their cruelty. There are two elven thralls with them, empty eyed, their blank doll-faces covered in gouge-scars, unreachable through word and mind-touch alike. One of them is chained; the other is not, and Maglor wonders why, because he can see no difference between them.

This time, though, they had not been looking to take prisoners. Maglor’s company, ambushed, had had nine elves; of them two were killed in the skirmish and the rest wrestled to the ground, their throats bitten out, life-force spilling onto the burned soil.

Maglor would have suffered the same fate, if not for his pride. If not for his crown. If not for the keen eyed goblin that had held him, gasping for breath and half out of his mind with the pain of his ribs and his arm, and seen the glimmer of silver on his brow.

“Style yourself as a lord, do you?” The goblin has asked him, twisting his broken arm further behind him, and Maglor had been beyond words; could barely understand the question being posed to him. Then the goblin had let him go, just briefly. He made to roll away, gasping, shattered, but one sharp foot kicked at him, and suddenly two of them, not so light as they seemed, were standing on his back, and there was no moving.

From the conversation behind him, snatches of the orcish tongue mixed with rough-hewn Sindarin, he had been able to tell the circlet was being passed around. None of them had been able to read it; none of them read Tengwar, or perhaps none of them read at all. Maglor had strained to turn, to sit up, to see—had been able to push himself up on his elbow just in time to see the gleam of silver pass to one of the unchained elven thralls.

The thrall had looked down at the crown in his hands. Maglor had watched with bated breath as his dark empty eyes followed the lines of the writing. Finally some splash of emotion on that blank face, an automatic flick of the eyes to Maglor.

Lie, Maglor had mouthed, lie. Let them kill me. Spare me your own fate.

The elf’s thin chained hand, so pale if it was not moving Maglor would have thought it wax, or else dead, had shaken. One deep breath, two.

Then he had shut his eyes and read, the perfect pronunciation making it quite clear he had once been Noldor, “Kánafinwë Makalaurë, captain. In the old lands it was the name of the second prince.”

And that had sealed Maglor’s fate.

That assault had been two weeks ago. By now Maglor has grown used to the erratic movements of the camp, the sudden jerks this way and that as the ill-established goblin leadership seems to change at random the course of their journey, the taste of black ash in the water, the infrequent meals of bird-meat, the constant, unyielding pain.

In the battle proper his arm had been broken in three places; it had started to heal, before his capture. When he was taken they had wrenched off the sling, had kicked and pulled at the broken bone, sensing weakness, as they had wrestled him into chains. After looking him over the then-head goblin had smashed the toes of his left foot, a terrible pain that left him able to hobble short distances, off-balance and leaning on his heel, but not walk for long, and certainly not run.

His other injuries ought to be easier to bear; cuts and bruises and claw marks decorate his ribs and his neck, and in places his good arm has gone numb from being bound too tightly, and does not listen to him well when unbound, so that he must rely on the questionable mercy of the thralls when he is allowed to eat or drink or relieve himself. Some of the gritty black ash has wormed its way into the cuts on his skin, and they burn to even brush against; he feels puffy and swollen from all sides and wonders if the goblins would have done better to bring back only his severed head and his silver crown. He might have been more recognizable that way.

He had tried singing, in the early days of his captivity. And though even then his voice had come out twisted and choked, a shadow of its former power, it had almost been enough. He had sung a sleeping-tune, a lulling tune, and birds, the last stragglers from the once-living forests, had gathered all about him to listen, and the camp had slept, caught in the melody.

He had managed even to get down from the back of the donkey he had been thrown over, to crawl, still singing, to the edges of the camp. But when he had tried to rise his vision had gone black with pain, and his song ceased, if only for a moment.

It had been enough. Now he is muzzled, gagged, dirty dusty cloth pressing against his lips and scratching at throat with each breath. He tries nothing else.

The purposes of the thralls have become somewhat more clear to him, though he feels himself missing pieces. The one who is not chained never speaks—Maglor is not sure she is able to—but walks freely about the camp. The goblins do not see well during daylight, and she functions as their eyes, guiding them and keeping vigil while they sleep through the brightest hours of the sun. She looks at Maglor often, though she will not answer the tentative brushes of his mind; sometimes there is life in her big brown eyes, some glimmer of apology.

Often she stands next to him, a sort of guard. He thinks she is not allowed to touch him. Once when his hands had shaken and he had nearly dropped his water skin she had reached on impulse to catch it, had given it back to him in a quick, guilty motion. When once, during one of their day-stops, he had cried out from the pain of his shattered arm she had caught his shoulder, her grip gentle but pointed, and shushed him, looking meaningfully to the sleeping goblin-leader. Maglor did not need to be told twice; the face she had made in response to his silence might even have been a smile.

The chained thrall, on the other hand, speaks frequently, and his purpose is ill. Clearly he had once known well the land, and now he instructs the goblin crew what they might expect at each turn in the landscape, where elven fortresses and strongholds have been abandoned, what had once been farmland and horse-pasture. It is that thrall that helps Maglor eat and drink most often, all without meeting his eye, and will not look at him otherwise.

Today they have stopped on the shores of a river. Once it had overflowed the deep river-band, but now it is almost dry, making a sort of ravine, and Maglor looks down at the bared rocks far below him, and then at the chained thrall, who looks away as ever, wistful, and knows they both think the same thing.

Almost certainly they would die, if they jumped into the ravine. Almost certainly they could not get away quickly enough to make the distance.

No one is coming for him. That Maglor had accepted on the first few nights of his captivity. No one knows where he had been when he was taken; no one knows he yet lives. All that could have told of his survival in the battle are dead, now.

It hurts worse to think of, because he knows that Maedhros—if Maedhros lives, Elbereth let Maedhros live—would come, if he knew. He has no doubt of that. No part of Maedhros would pay back Maglor’s failure in kind; no part of Maedhros would hesitate, at risk of Doom, to chase him through the burned land. For despite it all Maedhros is nobler than he, more faithful, better.

Maglor breathes in deeply, suppressing a cough at the dust that tickles his lungs, and prays to the lady of the stars. Let Maedhros think I died quickly, in the battle. Let Maedhros know not of this, and hold not my guilt.

Above them the sun is scorching hot. The earth despoiled as it is, burned and torn up, carcasses of trees piled in ugly funeral-mounds, there is nowhere to shelter from the heat. Maglor wishes someone had thought to let him down from the back of the ass—which he is now bound to—for both he and the poor beast clearly suffer for their proximity. The chained thrall, allowed to sleep during the day, sighs and curls up in the shade found underneath one of the great fallen trees. He draws dark earth over his feet; it looks damp, cool. Maglor envies him.

The unchained thrall, who must be awake, ambles back and forth around the little camp, less the regimented paces of a watch-guard and more the random movements of a sleepwalker. There are goblins awake too, Maglor knows, on the edges of the camp; he can hear their faint conversation.

When the thrall passes by him Maglor catches her eye; if he were not gagged he would smile.

She inclines her head a little to him. Motioning for him to sleep, Maglor thinks, and winces. Nods down at the donkey. Too hot.

She repeats the head motion, a little more insistent. Maglor blinks. Something behind him?

It pains him to turn and look, his shoulder muscles and rib-wounds aching at the pull of the motion. But nonetheless he does turn, and sees that birds have gathered on the fallen trees, a rather heterogeneous assortment; ravens and magpies, songbirds and sparrows, one great hawk sitting discordantly among the prey-birds.

The goblins are not there to shoo them, and they do not make noise enough to wake them or to draw the attention of the distant guards. Maglor looks at the thrall-woman and shrugs, though even that little motion hurts. He is tired of the power pain has over him; it should certainly grow dull and pointless by now, should wane, and yet its bite controls him just as much as it had two weeks ago. He goes limp, because that hurts the least, and watches what unfolds.

Certainly the thrall-woman might be expected to scare away their unexpected guests; both of them know she shall not. She hesitates for a moment, clearly caught between fear and some desperate, painful hope; when one of the sparrows hops towards her she holds out her hand by impulse to catch it.

Her hands shake as she unwinds the little piece of parchment fastened around its leg. There is one word written on it in clear, bright Tengwar, so large Maglor can effortlessly read it even with the distance between them. Sharp hand.

Quiet.

He watches the elf-thrall’s throat bob as she swallows. Remembers the betrayal, before, from the other thrall. Her hand rises to her throat; he wonders if she is thinking of the irony of the request. Of the hurt she had been dealt.

Finally she turns to him. Holds out the note, to be sure he has seen. Raps against the parchment once with her nail, waits for his nod. Slips it back to the sparrow.

The birds take off all at once, leaving behind only one of the magpies. Maglor feels his heart beat hard against his ears, pressure building in his chest. He is grateful to be able to bite down on the gag.

What can he do, he wonders? His arm is broken, his toes. His hands are chained together and bound to the saddle of the donkey. He is useless.

Worse than useless. He is a liability.

One beat passes, two. Maglor tries not to imagine that he knows the sharp hand of the writer. Tries not to read into the single pragmatic word, the dark ink, the worn parchment.

Tries to tell himself that he is dreaming; that he is mad. Certainly it is easier than dashed hope. Certainly it is easier than the horrible, choking fear.

He will come, and I will doom him.

The elf-maid resumes her paces. There is a different energy to her now, a different tension underneath the set of her shoulders. Maglor listens to the sighing of the donkey and the sleeping rumbles of the goblins. The chained thrall whimpers in his sleep.

Do not wake, Maglor begs in his mind. Do not wake.

He marks the time not by counting but by reciting verses in his mind, prayer hymns. Eight verses; half an hour, give or take, given the speed of recitation.

Then finally he hears it; the drawing of a bowstring, the sound of an arrow in the air. Maglor strains himself to sit up in the saddle, and succeeds only in hurting his ribs; walls back against the back of the donkey, suppressing coughs into the spit-soaked cloth gag. The pain is so overwhelming that for a moment all thoughts of rescue are lost; all he can focus on is the sensation of his diaphragm hitching, the pain that leaves his chest as an over-inflated water skin and yet still somehow robs him of air.

He can feel the skin of the donkey jump, its dark itchy fur pressing into the skin of his forearms. It too is bound. It too cannot run.

Somewhere there is a faint thud. He can hear the quick gasping breath of the unchained thrall, and then she is half-running to his side, her face terrified. She has seen something.

And finally, finally, a familiar mind brushes against his, huge and solid and warm, and he weeps with it. A sob threatens him, and he holds his breath, unwilling to both make noise and to let it rock through him.

Maedhros’ thoughts are regimented; structured very purposefully to let no feeling through. Do you hear me, brother?

Yes, Maglor thinks, Yes, Elbereth—yes.

I will be there soon, Maedhros says, I know you are bound; I will cut you down. We must be silent, and we must be swift. We are badly outnumbered, and we cannot risk pursuit.

You ought not have risked this at all, Maglor thinks, stupidly, desperately grateful. There is nothing he would not do, now, to have Maedhros’ arms around him; to have his brother take him down and hold him tight.

Maedhros does not answer. The elf maid turns to him and begins to undo the ropes that bind him to the ass’s back; in his mind Maglor begs the animal not to bray with relief. She is half-done when the huge shadow of Maedhros looms over her shoulder; the rest he cuts through swiftly with his sword. The chains will have to wait; Maedhros reaches for the gag and Maglor draws back, speaking in their minds.

Leave it. If I have nothing to bite I will cry out.

Maedhros pales, but does as he is bid. He draws Maglor slowly into his arms, looping his chained hands over his neck—that pulls at Maglor’s arm, and his eyes water—and steps back, gesturing for the elf-maid to follow him.

As they turn Maglor sees the other thrall, the chained man, curled still sleeping in the cold dark soil. His dreams are ill, as they ever are. If they woke him, perhaps he would shout. If they woke him, perhaps he would leave with them. He had once been Noldor, Maglor remembers. He had once known this land.

Maglor thinks of all the people who would stop to help him, betrayal or none, risk or none. Finrod, bright-eyed and noble despite the horrible doom upon him; Fingon, stubbornly, fiercely hopeful even though his grief, stubbornly, fiercely kind. Elves better than him; elves more noble, less bloodstained. Dead lords.

I want to live, Maglor thinks, and says nothing. Leaves the chained thrall behind.

Maedhros bears him away, over the burned ground and the bodies of the goblin-guards, and just then Maglor is grateful for the blinding pain of his ribs and his arm, for the ache in his toes, for the ashy smell of the air, for the

Dreams do not feel so.

* * *

There is a little company of elves waiting for them on the edges of the forest. Bow-men. Warriors. The last, likely, of Himring’s men, her guards. That Maedhros has brought into enemy territory—that they had followed him, knowing full well the risk—bears not thinking about.

Even the few swift horses spared for the journey seem like a waste, a desperate measure. Maglor watches, distant and glassy-eyed, as the elf-maid that aided him is helped onto the horse of one of Maedhros’ archers. Then Maedhros murmurs brace yourself low in his ear and pulls him onto his own horse with him, still using his chained hands to hold them together.

Maglor falls against him, shaking and dizzy with pain, each part of his a different disconnected, heavy thing, and loses time. There is some period where he is vaguely aware of the movement of the horse, of bone striking bone in his broken arm, of the heat of Maedhros’ body next to him, the air brushing against his skin.

There are fingers—fingers on his jaw and his face, and he recoils. The low rumble of Maedhros’ voice stops him, soothes him, though it takes him a moment to grasp the meaning of his words. Maedhros, he realizes, is working free the gag shoved into Maglor’s mouth.

It comes out spit-soaked and oddly crunchy around the edges, tasting of dust and of blood. Maedhros rubs at the junction of his jaw, chasing away the little ache left behind. Maglor, so full of aches he feels more ache than elf, could weep at the care of it.

They are riding still when Maedhros presses a water skin between his lips and coaxes him to swallow. The water is warm with the heat of Maedhros’ body but clean, pleasant. It lends Maglor the strength to settle against Maedhros’ chest, to listen to the steady beating of his heart and watch the burned landscape go by.

“How?” he whispers. How did you know I was taken? How did you know where?

“The birds,” Maedhros says, “thirty years I spent upon the cliffside, and for thirty years I heard only their tongue; and their tongue I still speak now. Usually it is not in their nature to listen well to me, but their land has been despoiled as much as ours had, and their desire to spite the enemy is great.”

Maglor hums. The birds. Of course the birds.

“Try to rest,” Maedhros tells him, “we will not be able to stop during the night, for in the darkness the enemy’s forces are at their strongest. If we ride through the night we might be able to come to contested land, and then to elven strongholds, buried deep into the sides of the hills.”

Maglor means to tell him that he cannot rest; that he is far too hurt and it is far too hot, that certainly the shock of the capture and then the escape has been too great. But the words seem far away, barely worth saying. The dark landscape begins to blur together around him, and he does not notice at all when night falls.

* * *

When he wakes they are no longer horseback. Above him a pale-pink dawn rises, and the razed lands have given way to a sparse sprinkling of forest, pine tree branches swaying in the breeze. Someone yanks at the chain on his wrists, and Maglor cries out in pain, curses them automatically—thrice-damned ditch-dogs—and at that someone laughs, not the biting fire of goblin laughter but warm and elvish.

“Easy,” Maedhros says, “easy, little ferret. We are only trying to free you.”

His hand finds Maglor’s good hand. Squeezes.

Maglor looks down, and sees that one of the archers is working open the locking mechanism of the chains, pressing a thin metal wire inside it. It jingles, stubborn.

He would not mind it, he thinks, if they cut off the bad arm, so horribly swollen and twisted, barely a part of him at all. And how horribly it hurts now.

But the lock yields, and the chain is off, his shoulders protesting the change in positions. Maedhros sits behind Maglor, and pulls him to sit up, leaning against him. Maglor watches, feeling slow and stupid, as he shakes out a flask.

“For the pain,” he says, and presses it against Maglor’s lips. The liquor, mixed thickly with herbs and with honey, bites at throat, the sweetness coating his tongue. Still Maglor drinks as much of it as Maedhros lets him. He feels the effects almost immediately; his body is further from him, his mind fuzzier around the edges and warm.

Maedhros wraps an arm around him from behind, bracing him. “He will set your arm, now,” he says, “as much as he might.”

The archer moves forward, offering him a little smile. Promises to be quick with it.

Then even the liquor cannot save his dignity. Maglor shudders at the first touch of cold fingers against the swollen flesh of his arm; howls as the horrible scrape of bone against bone, of something within him being pulled and straightened, and through it Maedhros holds him tightly and kisses his hair from behind him. Talks of crisp clean sheets and tea with milk and walking barefoot through the mountain rivers.

It is only later, his arm and his toes bound, his ribs and neck covered in sticky roadside poultice, that Maglor finds it in himself to speak. Leans his head against Maedhros’ shoulder and murmurs, “You ought not have come. You have heard tales, I am sure, of how the battle started.”

Both of them think of it at once. The younger brother pulled to pieces in front of the elder; the horrible grief-stricken charge. Maedhros shudders. Bends, again, to kiss Maglor’s hair.

“I would have come then too,” he says, “if I were him.”

The words ought not settle to warm and secure in Maglor’s chest. And yet they do, they do.

#my fic #maedhros #maglor #i'll clean it up later and put it on ao3 #but for now!#:)

67 notes · View notes

emotionallyattachednerd · 3 months

Text

Confessions | Knightverse Bumblebee x GN!human reader | SFW

Word count: 1800+

Warnings: None. Just a first kiss. ( for once there is no smut 😅 )

Notes: This is a art trade for @bi-polar-geminii. Loved trying out something different with Bumblebee and my writing style. Hope you enjoy. ❤��

☕ Coffee

Bumblebee enjoyed spending time with you whenever possible. You always made him feel special, and he returned the same by making you feel just the same. He understood you were very different, species wise, but that doesn’t stop his feelings from growing more fondly about you every passing day. The urge to confess keeps creeping, about to burst out at any moment, but he holds it all in fearing you’ll reject him, and so he continues to be your friend.

What he doesn’t know is that you feel the very same about him, but keep it all sealed up, despite just how much it’s bothering you. It feels like an itch you can’t reach and it’s growing more intense the more you spend time with him. You do ask yourself the worst that could happen and the worst scenarios always run through your head, over and over again it happens, and this is what holds you back. Its torture, and you’re unsure just how much longer you can hold it in.

On one of Bumblebee’s days off he drives you to one of your favourite spots to hang out together, someplace quiet, where it’s only just you two and mother nature surrounding. The drive is always nice and he places your favourite music, listening to you sing along with your hand out the rolled down window against the wind. The sound of your voice is a beautiful melody to Bumblebee’s audios, and he would love to sing along with you, but since he lost his voice all he can do is play whatever music you wanted. You’re happy, and that’s all that mattered to him.

Once you arrive, Bumblebee carries you across the thicket towards the river bank, settling you down once in the clear and you both take in your surroundings and nature's music. It’s beautifully relaxing. You breathe in deeply and let out a satisfied exhale while setting the sun observe into your skin. Bumblebee mimics this, just to be a part of your relaxation.

“Feel that sun, breathe in that fresh air, hear nature's music, this is the kind of life to live.” You say wearing a fond smile. “If only this was right in my backyard, it would be parricide.”

"Is that something you would like? Why not change your life to have this?" He asked through his radio over a few channels.

“Oh, as much as I would like to, I have work and friends I don’t want to leave. Sometimes that’s the way of life, but I have no regrets. What I already have is something that is irreplaceable, I wouldn’t trade it for the world.” That’s the truth you speak as you offer him a sweet smile.

Bumblebee listens closely, enticed by your speech. You were such a wonderful human being that saw so much beauty in everything, so caring, beautiful. Finding the right channel through his radio, he goes to speak, to confess something that's been nagging in his helm.

"You're perfect, kind, and you-"

“Oh Bee, look over there.” You didn’t mean to cut him off but you notice something in the water struggling to swim. It’s a tiny Bumblebee, who had made an unfortunate mistake and got themselves submerged in the water. Without hesitation you take your shoes off and enter the shallow bank, gently using your hands you scoop it up, saving its life. There is little care about your clothes getting wet or dirty, all that mattered to you was the poor little guy.

Bumblebee watches this happen and tilts his head curiously at the small creature sitting in your hands, tired from the struggle, but resting calmly as they try to get themselves dry and regain their energy. He’s seen cruelness in the universe, even earth. Such a creature wasn’t always looked out for and so are forced to take care of themselves without help, and in this creature's final moments near death, they are saved by the most kind hearted human this universe didn’t deserve. Bugs die all the time, every day, but this bug won’t be one of them today.

“Poor thing.” You coo calmly at it, bringing your hand closer to your face. “Don’t worry little guy, you’re safe now. You can rest there for as long as you need.” Looking back at Bumblebee you give an innocent smile. “I know it might seem strange talking to a bug, but I believe all living things can understand us somehow, even though we can’t understand them, but there’s a connection and it's up to us to find it, to make that connection work. They need help sometimes and it's up to us to offer that help, it’s a choice. There’s beauty in this world and these little guys have a big part in it, pollinating the world and bringing life everywhere.” You explain to him, all the while you watch the fuzzy bumblebee in your hand with a smile. “Thank you, little one.”

Bumblebee tilts his helm curiously. “Why…appreciation?”

“Well, like I said, they help keep our world thriving, and without them our world wouldn’t be anything beautiful like it is. Like you and the autoboots, you’re here to protect earth and humans from decepticons. Without you, our world would be destroyed.”

Then, Bumblebee feels a heavy emotion, a dread. "We failed our world. Protecting yours is our priority. I don't want to fail you."

Tilting your head up, you listen to what he says to you, curious by the tone you picked up on. "I believe in you, Bee. You could never disappoint me. Sorry, I think I cut you off before. What were you going to say?"

Now it's Bumblebee's turn to hesitate, a shy little child worried about the outcome of what he truly wanted to say to you. Humming buzzing sound from him, before he finally confesses through his radio. "You complete me."

His words make your heart skip a beat. "I...I complete you? What do you mean by that?" You need to make sure, to dig deeper, find the source of what he just said to you.

Bumblebee stares at the crawling bee on her hand, desperately trying to clean and dry itself. He knows there's no backing out of it, and answers without looking at her.

"When you realise you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible." A famous quote he found, and the only one he seemed to find and fit in the situation he brought himself in.

The confession truly takes your breath away, a warmth floods through your entire body, causing goosebumps to rush through your skin and tickling your tiny hairs. Still, as beautiful as his quote was, you needed more clarification, just to be sure.

"Bee, do you love me?" As forward as it sounded, it's all you could think of in the moment, to put it out there. Your eyes are fixed on him as you await his answer.

Through his sudden shyness, he tilts his helm at you and manages to give a simple nod, right before tearing his gaze away back onto the bug you continue to hold. It's something you've only dreamed about, a love confession from your favourite yellow bug, from Bumblebee.

Stepping closer you touch his surprisingly warm plating at his servo, gaining his attention, watching as his baby blue optics shift directly onto you, looking like a frightened child that tugs at your heart. There was no need to question further as to why he didn't say anything before, because you had also done it, keeping your feelings all bottled up. Both of you were worried about the outcome, but now it's all happening, and there is only one thing to do that struck your mind.

"Kiss me."

For a split second Bumblebee is confused before his optics glow brightly, happiness blooming through him hearing these words. Slowly he leans forward, his helm tilts, and you meet with him before sealing your soft lips over the grill of his mouth guard. It might not seem like it but you feel him kissing you back, gently pressing as you let the kiss linger for as long as possible. There's a concoction of emotions, your racing heart beats quickly, a bundle of nerves tightens at your chest, and a flood of happiness bursts through your whole body. The moment leaves you giggling silently on the inside, a love and affection latching onto the moment with what feels like butterflies fluttering around your stomach.

When the kiss is finally broken all you both can do is stare at one another closely, fond eyes and optics holding together before your beaming smile grows more. "Oh Bee, you've got a bee on you."

That he does. In the moment the tiny bee had crawled from her hand and onto his face, still crawling around but looking better than before. He doesn't mind, in fact he enjoys having the tiny bug on him, thinking it as a trust bond just like the bug had for you.

Your hand rests against his cheek plating, fingers gently soothing while he leans into your touch, humming in delight as the weight is lifted so quickly from the both of you, all worries and nerves no longer lingering.

"We're both a little silly." You hear yourself say. "But maybe that's what makes us perfect together. I want so much for us. You're not only my friend, but the one I've grown to love so much. Is this what you want, for something more between us?"

Bumblebee nods eagerly before looking up around, noticing the sun setting and the moon lightly appearing under the pink bubble gum sky and speaks through a channel of his radio. "What do you want? You want the moon? Just say the word and I'll throw a lasso around it and pull it down. Hey, that's a pretty good idea. I'll give you the moon."

Letting out a pleasant giggle you hold your hand over across his servo. "As lovely as that sounds I don't think mother nature would appreciate that. I want you. I want our fairy tale, that's all I need."

Bumblebee lets out another low hum before moving his servo up to his face to allow the tiny bee to crawl onto his digit and bring it back down between you both. Finally, the bee had enough strength, twitching its fuzzy body and taking flight, flying around them both as if it was trying to thank them, before flying away and back to its colony through the vibrant trees.

It was a beautiful moment, one neither of you will ever forget. Turning to Bumblebee again, you kiss his cheek plating and beam brightly. "Can we stay a little longer? Maybe we could cuddle?"

He's more than happy to do that. "Happily ever after."

#transformers #tf knightverse #bumblebee #reader insert #gn reader #bumblebee x reader #art trade #cute yellow bug robots #fanfiction #sfw #writing #fandom #sugarrusheag

65 notes · View notes

amor1st03 · 1 year

Text

You and Me | Lee Know

Lee Minho x fem!reader

enemies to lovers, ballet dancer au, college/university au, fluff, angst

warnings: swearing, reader and Minho can be rude to each other at times, there's a point where they're at a bar and some gross guy is harassing reader, jealousy, angst

word count: 11.8k

in which: you are forced to dance with the person you hate the most in the world but maybe it isn’t as bad as it seems

Skz masterlist

"Anyone but him."

"Y/N, you need to learn to work with people you don't get along with. And, who knows, this might do the two of you some good, you might actually, dare I say, become friends.

"Oh, yeah, sure we will," You replied as you rolled your eyes. "Miss Crawford you know what we're like, we'll never get along."

It was a beginning of a new term and you had visited the notice board outside of your class to find out who your new partner would be. You were mortified to find out it was none other than Lee Minho.

You were happy to say you were friends with the majority of the people in your class. You got along with everyone. Except him.

You had furiously marched up to your professor's office to confront her. She knew all too well about your and Minho's endless bickering.

"I'm not changing it. Just try. You and Minho are two of my best dancers and I think you would dance well together if you just gave it a shot." You looked at her, eyes wide in shock. It was a terrible idea, surely she knew it was. But she showed no signs of backing down.

"Fine, I'll try."

"Good. Now go to class I'll be there soon."

You bid her goodbye with a sigh before leaving her office. As you turned down the corridor you bumped into somebody.

"Watch it," They said. You were about to apologise when you realised it was Minho.

"Piss off." He just continued to walk, ignoring you. He entered the office you had just left.

"Let me guess, you're here to complain too." You heard Miss Crawford say.

Minho wasn't pleased about the pairing either. The two of you had never gotten along. You disliked each other since you were kids. It started as relentless teasing when you were young but as you grew up it had gotten old but neither of you were willing to approach the other first. The two of you just did not like each other. You could've just avoided him and that would've been fine if it weren't for Chan. Your best friend. Unfortunately, he was also extremely close with Minho meaning you couldn't avoid him. You still tried to though. When Chan made plans for your group of friends you always checked whether Minho would be there, trying to get away with not going. But Chan wanted the two of you to get along and kept inviting you to the same things.

The issue of avoiding Minho only got worse when you started university. At first, you were excited. Both you and Chan had gotten into a really good arts university. He would be studying music production while you were studying dance. Your little bubble burst on the first day of classes when you walked in to find that Minho was there too.

Of course, he was there. The two of you had always bickered about who the better dancer was and this continued during your classes, much to the other students and Miss Crawford's displeasure.

And all of this ultimately led you right here. Being paired with the one person in the class you couldn't stand.

As you continued to walk down the hallway, you told yourself you would not let him get in the way of your dreams. You told yourself you would dance better than you have ever danced in front of him. At least it was your ballet class that you were paired up in, it was, after all, the style you were best at.

When you made it to class, you were still mad. You were one of the first people there, always liking to be there early.

"What's wrong with you?" Felix asked as you set your bag down next to his. You slumped against the wall and slid down it, sitting beside the boy.

You had been paired with Felix a few times before and he was probably your favourite person in the entire class. You danced well with him and became close quite quickly.

"I'm paired with Minho this term."

"Oh shit, really?"

"Yes, really."

"So now it's just a matter of time to see who snaps first and kills the other?"

"Yep, pretty much."

"It might do you some good, actually. He's really not that bad, he's actually quite nice when you get to know him."

"That's what Chan says but I'm yet to see this side of him. He's always so condescending and nasty to me."

"Well, here's your chance to see that side of him. You've known him for so long, maybe it's time to leave whatever this weird rivalry is in the past."

"I don't think we'll ever get along."

"Speak of the devil, he just walked in. Come on, Y/N, it's only temporary," Felix said, picking your bag up and handing it to you before placing his hands on your shoulders and turning you to face where Minho had just walked in. "Play nice." Felix gave you a light shove in Minho's direction.

You shuffled over to him, mentally cursing your friend. You trained your eyes to the ground once you were stood in front of him.

"Look..." You glanced up at him to see an unpleasant look on his face. He raised his eyebrows at you, questioning what you wanted to say. Your voice turned sharp as you spoke again. "Look, we've got no choice but to work together, so please just don't fuck this up by being a dick. This is my most important class, I wanna do well in this. Just for this term, try to act with some decency, yeah?" Minho scoffed.

"And you always say I'm the rude one?'" You ignored him, placing your bag next to his as your professor walked into the class. She gave you and Minho a pleased smile, probably hoping that the two of you were getting along.

You and Minho quickly changed into your ballet pumps before the class began. You had always hated warming up, you knew it was important but you were always so desperate to dance. Today, however, you were pleased with how thoroughly Miss Crawford made you warm up. Honestly, you never wanted it to end so you could avoid working with the boy beside you for as long as possible.

A feeling of dread settled in your stomach as the warm up concluded. You looked around as everyone else made their way into their new pairs, greeting each other. Felix caught your eye with a soft smile and a thumbs up before turning away to his partner. Reluctantly, you turned to face Minho.

"We don't have to talk, let's just focus on the dancing and get through this," He stated, not even looking in your direction.

"Alright, class. So at the end of this term we will be having a show. I have picked out a select number of duets. The duets are one's we have learnt before but you will need to relearn them with your new partners and audition. After that I will pick a pair for each duet. I expect you all to learn one of the duets and I have to see at least one full run through of it as the practice will go towards your grade. However, if you do not want to audition for the show you don't have to but you will, of course, all be performing in the group dances. Any questions about that?" You raised your hand. "No, you cannot change partners."

"Oh, no, it's not that. I was just wondering what the duets that you picked were?"

"Oh, I see. Well, for now I'm not going to tell you, add to the excitement a little. In a few weeks time I will let you all know and I will pin up and audition sheet for each duet. For now, I don't want you all to be worrying about having to relearn them. For the first week we will be doing our usual. I want you all to get to know your partners, learn to dance together. For this you can use whatever sort of practice you want for this, whether that's learning a dance together or just practicing moves together. I expect to see all of you becoming comfortable dancing together. I have also sorted out a schedule for this room so each pair will have a few hours each week after lessons to work together. If anyone has any problems with it let me know but I expect you all to use the time wisely."

The class went surprisingly fast as you and Minho worked together. What was even more surprising was how gentle he was when he placed his hands on your waist. The feeling sent a shiver up your spine. Your skin felt like it was burning under his touch. You weren't sure what the feeling was but if anyone had asked you would've pinned it on the angry tension between the two of you.

When class was over you were quick to collect the schedule your professor was handing out and to move away from the suffocating proximity you had been forced to share with Minho. You crouched down next to your bag, putting your water bottle away.

"Can you move? I need to get my bag." You heard Minho say behind you, you rolled your eyes. Quickly your grabbed his bag, standing up and shoving it into his chest. He took a step back to steady himself.

"There, not in the way anymore, am I?"

"Thanks," He replied sarcastically, moving away from you. You sighed as you sat down on the floor, changing your shoes.

"How'd it go?" Felix asked, sitting beside you with a smile.

"I don't wanna talk about."

"Aw, come on. It can't have been that bad, you guys looked good together."

"Don't ever say that again." You warned him.

"Don't say what?" Hyunjin, another one of your friends in the class, asked as he sat down with the two of you.

"That Y/N and Minho look good together."

"Felix."

"He's right, you two do look really good dancing together. Well, I mean if you ignore the obvious snarls and glares." You ignored the two as they continued to joke.

"When are you guys scheduled in?" You asked, interrupting their laughter.

"I've got the room first today, actually after classes end and then again on Wednesday."

"My partner and I have it on Wednesday after Felix and then Thursday at 4pm. You?" You glanced down at your schedule.

"We have it tomorrow and Friday, both the last session."

"We, huh?" Felix teased.

"Felix, I swear to god-"

"Calm down!" He laughed. "Come on, let's go. We've got contemporary next, we can't be late again." The two boys stood up and Hyunjin offered his hand out to you. You took it, thanking him as he helped you up.

***

When you reached your next class, contemporary dance, you were glad to see that you weren't being paired up with anyone. You were also glad there wasn't a showcase for this class at the end of term because it meant you could focus more on ballet. You wanted a duet even if you had to work with Minho. Like you said, you were not going to let him get in the way of it.

Hyunjin and Felix seemed to thrive the most in this class whereas you excelled more in ballet. Unfortunately, so did Minho meaning the two of you were always trying to outdo the other. You both would probably still try and show each other up which would make working together even harder.

As the day continued, throughout your classes you kept catching Minho's eye. The two of you would glare at each other, tensions clearly still high from the morning. You were relieved when your final class was over and you could finally leave.

You left your class and headed for the music department to find Chan. Just down the hall, you saw him leaving his class with Han and Changbin. You greeted the three of them which they returned.

"What's up with you?" Chan asked. He was always able to pick up on your bad moods. You sighed before explaining the unfortunate situation you were currently stuck in. Chan simply laughed.

"This is perfect, you two will finally get along and we can all hang out in one big group without you two making it awkward."

"Shut up, there's no way we will ever get along. He hates me."

"Thin line between love and hate, right?"

"What are implying there, Changbin?" You eyes him suspiciously.

"Nothing, nothing at all," He replied with a smirk.

"You know what, I'm going to find Jeongin and Seungmin."

"Aw, come on, we're only joking, Y/N," Jisung stated.

"Jokes are meant to funny."

"Yeah, well I found it funny and humour is subjective."

"Okay, smartass." Jisung smirked before ruffling your hair. "I'm serious about finding Jeongin and Seungmin though, I said I would walk home with them." You flattened out your hair.

"Bye, Y/N."

"See you later."

"See you, keep me updated about Minho," Chan said as you waved them goodbye.

"Trust me, I'll come find you to complain."

The three boys watched as you walked down the corridor, turning the corner. Chan turned to the other two.

"It's gonna happen."

"Oh, definitely."

"We called this years ago."

***

"Can you move further to the right?"

"No, I'm fine here."

"No, once you've lifted your hands off of my waist you can move over there, the spacing will look better."

"Well, I'm not budging."

"Grow up, Minho, and move!"

"Do you have to be so bitchy all the time?"

"I'm not bitchy."

"Yes, you are. Ask nicely and I might move." He smirked at you.

"Can you please move up slightly before I move you myself?"

"I said nicely."

"I said please."

"Fine, I'll move. Only because I know being nice is difficult for you." You scoffed.

"Difficult for me? We've know each other how long? I've never once seen you do anything nice for anyone. Or are you only nice when I'm not around."

"I'm nice all the time, I think you'll find."

"Yeah, sure."

"Look, can we please just get back to dancing? That's what we're here for after all."

"Yeah. Let's just do it from the top."

It had been a few weeks and things between the two of you had not settled. When the music was playing everything seemed to be utter bliss. Not that you would ever admit it but Minho was a beautiful dancer and the two of you did seem to move well together. While dancing, when he held your hand or your waist you couldn't quite believe it was the same guy who had hated you for years.

But the music never lasted and his touch would leave, soon the arguing started up again. The bickering was constant and didn't seem to be going anyway anytime soon. Maybe because it was all you had ever known. You sighed as you pressed play, quickly getting back into place.

The music began as the two of you moved in sync. There were three duets that were to be performed at the showcase. One from Swan Lake and another from Romeo and Juliet. You were relieved that there was no argument from Minho when you said you wanted to audition for the third duet, 'Bedroom' from Manon.

It was a beautiful piece, since you had first seen the dance it had captivated you. You had dreamt of getting to dance it and now this was your opportunity. You were prepared to fight tooth and nail with Minho to pick that dance, you were relieved when he had agreed to choosing it. There was only one thing that made you feel a bit regretful in your decision: the intimacy of the piece. The other two dances were also very intimate but this one felt the most emotional. At some points, your face was mere inches away from his face. He held a soft smile that he always put on when he was on stage but it never reached his eyes. They remained cold as he look at you. You imagined that you had a similar expression.

But that wasn't even the worst part.

There was a small break in the dance where the two characters were meant to kiss. The two of you hadn't thought about that when you had picked this duet.

You were yet to reach it as you had only just been blocking the dance out, remembering parts and working on movementa. As it approached, Minho leaned in gently but you pulled away. He sighed in annoyance.

"It's just a kiss, it doesn't mean anything."

"I know it means nothing, but it's weird kissing the person that I dislike the most in the entire class and the person who dislikes me the most."

"Well, stop thinking about it and just kiss me and then we can go back to disliking each other later."

"Can we just skip it for now? We'll practice it later."

"If we must, whatever. Let's start again." And that's what you did. You felt more anxious now, overthinking the fact that you knew one day you would have to kiss him. But for now the two of you awkwardly stood still for a moment, skipping the kiss, nothing but your breathing and the music could be heard.

When you had reached the end of the dance, you were in Minho's arms. One place you never thought you'd be. You could feel his heart pounding in his chest from the dancing as the music ended. You were quick to pull away.

You cleared your throat before speaking.

"Our sessions up, that's good for today, I'm leaving now."

"Y/N."

You ignored him, hurrying to collect your things, practically racing to the door. You jumped when you pulled it open to find Chan on the other side.

"Oh my god, you scared me!"

"Oh, sorry. I came to catch a glimpse of the two of you dancing."

"Well, our sessions up now, I'll see you tomorrow." You tried to move past him but he stood in the way.

"Hey, wait. Minho and I are gonna walk home together, do you wanna walk with us?"

"Um, I have stuff to do today, sorry. Bye." You quickly pushed past him, leaving the two boys behind.

"Woah, what happened?" Chan asked as he watched Minho collect his own belongings.

"She's getting all worked up because we have to kiss for the audition."

"Wait, what, seriously?"

"Don't even say it."

"Say what? I wasn't going to say anything."

"Well, you were thinking it."

"What could you possibly mean?"

"Stop playing dumb, you've been saying shit about me and her for years. Not going to happen. We don't like each other at all remember?"

"You'll grow on each other."

"Yeah, don't think so. Anyway enough about Y/N, I don't wanna talk about her, let's go."

***

Of course, he was the first one to arrive. You rolled your eyes as you saw Minho sat at the table alone. Instead of walking over to him you headed to the bar, ordering a drink for yourself.

You were here to support Chan, Jisung and Changbin. They had booked a gig and had invited all their friends to see it. You knew Minho would be there but supporting them was more important than that. But as you picked up your drink and headed to the table you couldn't help but feel a bit of regret creeping in. You kept reminding yourself that it didn't matter, you would ignore him, you were here to support your friends.

You didn't even greet him as you sat down at the table.

"Great, you're here too."

"They're not just your friends, you know? Don't spoil it by trying to argue with me, this is their night, alright? Just be quiet and pretend that I'm not here."

"Gladly." He looked away, instead glancing around at the other people in the bar. The silence was finally broke when Hyunjin arrived. He greeted the two of you before sitting down beside you. You took notice of the way Minho's attitude differed when he greeted to Hyunjin. It was still weird seeing him be so friendly when he had always been so rude to you. Not long after your other friends arrived. Felix took the other seat beside you while Seungmin and Jeongin sat either side of Minho.

"How's things going in ballet?"

"They're awful, I can't stand working with him." You tilted your head in Minho's direction. Minho overheard this and quickly spoke up.

"You're not exactly the best person to work with either."

"Shut up." You scowled before turning back to Hyunjin. "I wish I could work with you or Felix, it would be better than with him," You whined, shaking his arm. He laughed. Minho looked between you two. He looked at the hand you had laid on Hyunjin's arm as you spoke. He felt a twist in his stomach. He knew it was because you talking down about him while he was sat right in front of you. He was certain it was that.

"You two are the best dancers in the class, you were bound to get paired up eventually. Besides, I've seen you working in class and you do actually dance really well together."

"I guess. We don't talk and just focus on the dance instead of bickering. It's the best way to get through this term." Hyunjin sighed at your words.

"Instead of trying to get through this term how about you take the opportunity to get to know him? You never know, you might actually get along."

"Want me to talk some sense into him?" Hyunjin joked.

"I tried to get along with him years ago, he never wanted anything to do with me. He hates me and that's fine but I'm not going to try if he's just going to be rude to me."

"You can certainly try." The two of you fell silent when you saw your three friends walking on stage. You smiled at Chan when his eyes met yours. The performance was probably the best one of theirs you had been to. The were all so talented you were left speechless. The songs were so well produced and the lyrics were incredible and you didn't even want to get started on their voices. You had always known they were talented but it was still mind blowing every time you saw them perform.

When the performance was over another group took to the stage. While you waited for the three boys to come out from backstage, you stood up to get another drink. You felt someone's eyes on you as you looked around. You spotted a rather intoxicated man sat a couple stools down from where you were stood. You turned to the bartender, attempting to ignore his gaze. As an arm came to rest on your shoulder, you felt your skin crawl.

"Hey, baby, how about you let me buy you a drink?"

"How about you fuck off?" You pushed his arm off of you.

"Come on, don't be like that. Let's have some fun, yeah?" He rested an arm around your waist now.

"Get off me!" He pulled you closer as you pushed his chest away.

Minho caught sight of your struggle and quickly got to his feet. He was about to head in your direction when he saw Chan interrupt your interaction with the guy.

"What? What is it?" Jeongin asked as him and the others looked up at Minho.

"Nothing." He sat back down but kept his eyes trained on you and Chan. He saw Chan pull the guy off of you and swing an arm around you. He couldn't hear what any of you were saying but he continued to watch anyway.

"She told you to keep your hands off, alright?" Chan shouted at the man.

"Sorry, man, I didn't know she had a boyfriend."

"It doesn't matter if she's got a boyfriend or not, if she tells you not to touch her, you don't touch her. Or anyone else for that matter, got it?"

Chan guided you back to the table, checking if you were alright.

"I'm okay, thank you though."

"It's not problem, no one should treat anyone like that."

Minho watched as the two of you walked back to the table. You didn't notice the way, even after Chan had shouted at him, the man continued to look at you. His eyes lingered on you and Minho felt rage course through his veins.

"Hey guys." The others at the table were quick to break out into chatter, telling Chan how great he was on stage.

"Where's Changbin and Jisung?"

"They're still backstage, but let's get out of here for some fresh air. I'll message them and tell them to meet us outside." The others agreed, quickly putting on their jackets and collecting their things. They all began to walk out, Chan and you leading the group.

"You coming?" Seungmin asked Minho.

"I'll catch up, let me just finish my drink I won't be long."

"Alright, see you out there." Minho watched as the others left. Once they were gone, he downed the rest of his drink before heading over to the bar. The man who had spoken to you was leaning against it with his back to him. Minho tapped him on the shoulder. As he turned, Minho swung his fist, hitting him square on the jaw. He looked down at the man as he fell to the ground. Without so much as a word, he turned and left.

Minho would swear he wasn't a violent person, not really. Sure, he knew people found him scary, but nine out of ten times he was all bark and no bite. He hadn't even been in a proper fight before. But that felt good. The guy deserved it and Minho was glad to have done it for you. Just because you didn't like each did not mean he wanted some random guy putting his hands on you and making you uncomfortable. He rubbed his knuckles, they were hurting but he was certain his fist hurt way less than that guy's face.

Once he was outside he saw everyone else waiting.

"You ready to go?" Chan asked.

"Yep, let's go." The group walked to a different club.

For the rest of the night, Minho couldn't help but keep glancing at you. Wanting to make sure you were alright but being too afraid to ask. He knew you didn't want to talk to him. He leaned against the bar and watched as you danced with a few of the other guys. He glanced over at Chan who leaned next to him.

"Is Y/N alright?" He asked.

"You saw what happened? She's okay, she was just a little shaken up." Minho nodded, rubbing his fist. "What happened to your fist?" Chan took hold of Minho's arm examining his knuckles.

"Nothing," He stated, bluntly.

"Oh, really? 'Cause it looked like you punched someone." Minho didn't say anything. "You punched that guy, didn't you? I saw the way you were looking at him when we came back to the table, you looked so mad."

"Yeah, fine, I punched him, so what?"

"I knew you cared about her."

"No, it's not like that, it's just nobody deserves to be treated that way. What I did doesn't mean I care about her."

"Yeah, right." Chan rolled his eyes. "Anyway, I'm gonna go join them on the dance floor, wanna come?" Minho's eyes shifted to you again.

"No, I'm good."

"You sure?"

"Yeah, I'm sure." Chan moved away from him and headed towards you.

Minho continued to watch as you danced. For the rest of the night, Chan's words plagued his mind.

***

"You have to at least try and look at me like you're in love with me!" That was one sentence you never thought you'd be saying to Minho.

The two of you danced really well together when you weren't arguing but you knew that if you wanted to be picked for the duet you would have to be able to show the love between the two characters.

"I can't, it's weird."

"I know you hate me but just for the dance pretend I'm someone else."

"God, I wish you'd stop saying that."

"Saying what?"

"That I hate you. I don't hate you."

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me. Sure we've never been friends, or even gotten along before but I don't hate you. I never have."

"Stop lying."

"I'm not."

"You are. Why are you saying that? It's the way things have always been, you hate me and I hate you, that's the way we've always been."

"No. You hate me. That's fine. We've never been friends but I have never said I hated you. I could never hate you."

"Why?"

"Well, because you...You mean too much to Chan. I couldn't hate my best friend's other best friend." You were shocked, unsure of what to say. He didn't hate you? All those years of teasing and mean comments sure felt like hatred to you.

"I don't know what to say. All these years I hated you because I thought that you hated me and now you tell me you never hated me. You confuse me, Minho, I'm not even sure what to say."

"You don't have to say anything. Look, I've been thinking about it a lot and us arguing is just getting in the way of our dancing. We dance really well together, neither of us can deny it so, just for the time being, I want us to forget about all the arguing and just focus on this. Let's try and be civil."

"Yeah, okay." You replied before turning away. The two of you collected your things in silence. You left the room first, Minho was close behind. You could feel his gaze as you walked along the corridor. You turned back to look at him, he was quick to look away. As you rounded the corner somebody ran into you. You felt your ankle roll and you fell to the floor.

"Y/N!" Minho said as he saw you tumble to the ground. He quickly hurried over to you.

"Shit, I'm sorry," The boy who had bumped into you said.

"Why don't you watch where you're going?" Minho asked the boy as he crouched down beside.

"It's fine, really. It was an accident." You got up on your feet but winced in pain. You felt Minho take hold of your arm.

"Are you alright?" Him and the boy asked you at the same time. Minho glared at him.

"I am really. You can go," You said to the boy, ushering him away.

"Again, I'm really sorry." The boy ran off, leaving you and Minho. You tried to walk but winced again.

"Y/N, let's go to the nurse's office."

"No, I'm okay. Go away."

"No, I won't go away. You're clearly hurt. Come on." He picked you up, knowing that you would continue to argue with him if he didn't. It was strange seeing him be so caring. As he carried you to the nurse's office you couldn't help but glance up at him.

He set you back on your feet and helped you to sit down on the bed as the nurse asked what had happened. You explained before she had a look at your ankle.

"It will be okay. It's just twisted. Just rest it for a few days, don't try and get back to dancing too early, alright? Make sure you are definitely ready to dance before you attempt to go back to class."

"I can't miss my practices."

"You have to. If you try to dance on this ankle you'll only make it worse. I know what you dancers are like, you always want to get back to dancing, never properly resting." She turned to Minho. "I want you to make sure she's not trying to get back on her feet too early."

"I will."

"You can rest for a little while here until you're ready to go, I've got some other things I need to do before the end of the day. Oh, and when you leave, let him help you, okay?"

"Okay." The nurse left, pulling the curtain around the bed. You turned to face Minho. "You didn't have to carry me."

"You would've just continued to argue with me which does you no good. You were hurt."

"But why did you help me?"

"I'm not the heartless monster you think I am, you know?" You stayed quiet for a moment before swinging your legs off the bed. You stood up but winced in pain. Minho was quick to jump up, reaching for you. "Careful."

"I'm gonna go home now."

"Alright." He wrapped your arm around his shoulders before wrapping his own around you waist. The two of you thanked the nurse before he guided you home. Once you were back at your apartment, he helped you onto the bed. It was strange seeing him in your apartment. It's not like the two of you had never been to each other's apartments before. Having the same group of friends meant that sometimes one of you would host parties and the other would be there. This was strange because it was just you and him. No Chan. No Felix. None of the others. Just you two.

"I'll go now, you rest. Seriously, don't be trying to get back on your feet too early."

"Don't worry, I won't. I know you don't want me to fuck up our practices any further."

"It's not like that. Just don't make your injury worse. I'll see you when you're better."

"Yeah, see you soon." He turned, walking towards your door. He hoped you didn't notice the way his hand hesitated before reaching for the handle. Just before he shut the door you called out to him.

"Hey, Minho. Thanks." That was the first time you had ever said thanked him for anything. He gave you a soft smile and you heart fluttered slightly. Which terrified you. He was the person you hated the most in the world, his smile shouldn't make your heart flutter.

After he left, you wanted to try and get some sleep but you found yourself thinking of him. Thinking of every interaction with him you could remember. Could you have misjudged him?

Surely not. All these years you hated him and you were certain he felt the same. But he said he didn't. He never hated you.

You were confused.

He might not have hated you but you knew he never liked you either. He was still rude to you, making snide comments, attempting to tease and humiliate you every chance he got.

You had always acted the same towards him. Maybe the two of you had just misjudged each other. Never gotten along. Maybe it was because you had always hated him and he knew that.

You couldn't stop thinking about how, despite it all, he never hated you.

***

You were relieved that after a couple of days your ankle was fully healed. You were desperate to get back to dancing. On your first day back you were even earlier than usual. You had a bright smile on your face as you entered the classroom. You had thought a lot over the few days you were off. You and Minho had definitely gotten off on the wrong foot. And after years of pointless arguing, surely it was time to set it aside. You weren't saying that you were going to be friends, necessarily, but if the two of you could get along it was benefit the both of you as well as your friends.

The classroom began to fill with students and soon your professor walked in, greeting the class. You looked around, trying to spot Minho but you couldn't see him anywhere.

"Hey, where's Minho?" You asked Hyunjin.

"I'm not sure, he wasn't here yesterday either. He just messaged us to say he wouldn't be in, he never gave us a reason though." As the class began and people divided up into pairs you approached Miss Crawford before asking her if she knew anything about Minho's whereabouts.

"Didn't he tell you? He's off sick."

"Oh. No, he never said anything."

"Right. Well, he should be back soon. But with you being off and now him the two of you will have to work extra hard for these auditions."

"We will."

You couldn't do much that lesson with Minho not being there. When class has finished you questioned Felix to see if he had known about Minho being sick. He told you he didn't. You also messaged Chan to see if he knew what was up with Minho but he didn't know either. Minho never missed a day if he could help it. And for the first time ever, you found yourself worrying about him.

You knew you shouldn't worry. Miss Crawford said he was sick, so it can't have been anything major, but still, he hadn't told anyone and you knew he lived alone. So who was looking after him?

But it was none of your business, right? Why should you worry if someone's looking after him or not? He was perfectly capable of looking after himself, you knew that.

But as you tried to convince yourself not to check up on him you thought back to the last couple of days you had off. He had messaged you each day to check if you were coming back to college or not. When you had said you weren't he simply told you to keep resting. The previous day he hadn't messaged you which you had noticed but, given the track record of your relationship with him, you didn't think it was strange.

You mind was stuck on Minho for the rest of the day. When you last lesson had finished, you decided that you would just go and see him for yourself. You went home first, picked up some medicine, made him some soup.

Soup? What the hell is up with me, I don't make soup for Minho? You questioned yourself but, nevertheless, you found yourself on the way to his apartment with a flask in hand.

The walk to his place took longer then it should have, with you stopping countless times, debating on turning back and going home. But eventually you reached his apartment, hesitating before knocking. You heard shuffling inside before the door opened to reveal a very sick looking Minho. He looked pale with dark bags under his eyes, hair messy.

"What are you doing here?"

"It was my first day back and you weren't there and you never said anything. Miss Crawford told me you were sick."

"Oh, right. Sorry I should've messaged to say I wouldn't be in but I just thought you were still resting."

"I, um...I brought you some soup." You held it out for him.

"It's not poisoned is it." His tone was light as he took it from you.

"From the looks of it I don't need to poison you." As you spoke you saw him clutch his head as he squeezed his eyes. His other hand rested on the wall beside him, supporting himself.

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah, just feeling a bit faint."

"Come on, you should go back to bed. I'll help you." You guided him to his room and laid him down. You noticed how soft his expression was as he watched you lean over him, checking his temperature with a hand to his forehead. "I'll get you a cloth. One second." You got a damp cloth as well as a spoon and bowl for his soup.

"Why are you doing this?" He asked as you delicately placed the cloth on his forehead before pouring some soup in the bowl.

"You helped me when I hurt my ankle. Figured I should return the favour."

"Right. Return the favour."

"Why didn't you tell any of our friends?" He looked down at the bowl of soup you handed him.

"I didn't wanna burden or worry anyone."

"They're worried regardless, Minho. And you shouldn't think like that. Nobody's a burden. Everyone needs to be looked after every now and again." You had never seen such a soft gaze before. Did his eyes flicker down to you lips? You were certain you had imagined it. You cleared your throat. "I'll be off now, I guess. Do you need anything before I go?"

"No. I'm alright. Thank you."

"Alright then. Rest now. I'll see you when you're better. Don't worry about the audition practice. We've got ages, we'll be fine."

"Thanks again."

"It's fine. If you need anything call me or Chan or anyone. You're not a burden, Minho."

***

Minho would be lying if he said he felt better just because he wasn't ill anymore. Sure, that was partly the reason but he was also happy because things were finally changing between the two of you.

He had never intended on you disliking him so, it had started when you were just young kids as mindless teasing out of jealousy. As kids you never want your best friend to have another best friend but that was the way it had always been for the two of you. And as young kids sharing Chan had become a bitter rivalry. As the two of you grew up, Minho realised how stupid it all was but you couldn't stand to be around him so he never tried to change your mind. He just continued with the petty remarks and teasing.

But it had changed in the last few days and he was glad.

"Thanks for the soup, here's your flask." He handed it back to you once he had arrived at the classroom.

"Feeling better?" You asked.

"Much. I'm ready to get back to dancing."

"Me too."

And so the two of you did just that. The smile reached his eyes now as he danced, you noticed.

The weeks began to fly past as you and Minho prepared for the audition. You found yourselves arguing less and even started becoming more comfortable with each other. Dare you say it, you believed that the two of you had maybe even become friends. Looks like everyone had been right, he wasn't as bad as you had thought.

"I think we should practice the kiss today," Minho said as the two of you walked into the ballet room on Friday for your after school practice.

"We've got ages until the audition though."

"I know but I think it would be better for us to practice it sooner and become more used to it. Make it seem less awkward when we do the audition."

"Yeah, I suppose you have a point. Alright, let's run the number and we'll do it."

Minho pressed play and quickly got into position. The anticipation of the kiss made focusing on your movements more difficult but eventually you got up to the break in the dance where you had to kiss. As you came face to face Minho wondered if you could hear his heart beating over the music.

"Ready?" He asked softly. You nodded. He leaned in slowly.

His lips were softer than you had expected. You had never imagined you would ever be kissing him, let alone liking it. You had especially not imagined craving more of his kisses as the two of you broke away. It truly hit you then just how wrong you had been, for all these years.

Minho had a moment of clarity too. God, why had he never tried to make amends with you before? Holding you in his arms like this felt so right. He continued to look at you for a moment after the two of you had pulled away. He mentally retracted his previous statement, No, he could never get used to kissing you. Not when it felt that good.

"Not too bad a kisser," You joked with a soft smile.

"Not too bad yourself." Understatement of the century, he told himself.

"Shall we practice it again then? Because we kinda missed our cue to continue dancing." You pulled away from him fully.

"Oh, right, we did. Yeah, let's go from the top."

***

Maybe things really had changed between the two of you. You looked forward to your ballet classes. You looked forward to seeing him, dancing with him, kissing him. How strange it was, enjoying a kiss from somebody just a matter of months ago you thought was your worst enemy.

Your friends around you were very pleased to see the two of you actually getting along, especially Chan. You were happy to tell him that you and Minho were finally becoming friends. You did, however, regret telling him about the kissing, more importantly about the fact that you found yourself actually wanting to kiss him.

"It's just a kiss for the dance, yes it's nice, but who doesn't enjoy kissing?" You rested an arm over Chan's legs as they laid across your lap. He looked at your from where he laid, with his head against the sofa's armrest.

"You like him," He said with a smirk on his face.

"No I don't."

"Who would have thought that you would come to like Lee Minho? The guy you swore to hate forever. Guess what? I did. I knew this would happen."

"Shut up, I don't like him like that." You shoved his legs off your lap.

"Oh, really, you don't like him?"

"Nope. It's just a kiss between two friends who have to kiss for a dance. It doesn't mean anything."

"Just a kiss between two friends, huh?" He sat up, leaning towards you. "If that's so, kiss me then."

"What?" You asked, taken aback.

"Prove to me that it means nothing, that you can kiss anyone just because you're friends. Look, I love you but I don't have any feelings what so ever for you in that way. If you don't like him it means you are totally okay with kissing any other friend."

"You're insane. What would that girl from the cafe say? I know you like her."

"Please, she doesn't even know I exist. I haven't got a chance with her. Difference is Minho notices you, I can see that much." He leaned closer, a smirk still clear on his face.

You stayed still for a moment, an unimpressed look on your face. Someone cleared their throat and you quickly moved away from Chan.

"Sorry, I'm interrupting. The door was open," Minho said as he looked between the two of you. He had said he was sorry for interrupting but Chan thought the scowl on his face said otherwise.

"No you weren't, I was just teasing Y/N and I did invite you."

"Teasing her? Isn't that my job?" It was meant to be a joke but Chan heard the slight anger behind his words as he sat himself in between you and Chan.

"Yeah, you're right. I'll leave the teasing to you. Anyway, Y/N, sorry I forgot to tell you that I invited Minho over. We were gonna watch a movie and order a pizza, wanna stay?"

"Yeah, sure."

Chan picked out a movie while Minho ordered the food. In the meantime, you went and locked Chan's front door, not wanting anymore surprises. Chan was too impatient to wait for the food to start the film. As the three of you settled down to watch the movie, your phone pinged. You looked down to see a message from Chan.

[7:33pm]

Somebody's jealous

[7:34pm]

You did that on purpose didn't you? You invited him here and pulled that stunt for him to see

[7:34pm]

You got me. But it worked, did you see the look on his face. He's so jealous

[7:35pm]

You're delusional. I'm ignoring you now, don't message me

You looked across at him and scowled before turning back to the movie. But your mind was racing. Could Minho have been jealous? Could he possibly like you?

You suddenly became very aware of how close he was to you. His legs pressed next to yours. The small contact made you heart race. You were all too relieved when the doorbell rang as you jumped up before either of the boys could.

You ate your pizza and continued watching the film. You pushed away any awkwardness you felt about your emotions towards Minho. Instead, you just focused on enjoying your time with him and Chan. As the three of you laughed, you felt a strange sense of regret wash over you when you truly realised it could have been like this all along.

You had been a fool.

But better late than never, you supposed. At least it was all behind you now.

You finished the film and stayed for a little while longer before you and Minho left.

"I'll walk you home."

"I'm a big girl, I can look after myself."

"I don't doubt it but still, let me walk you home."

"Okay," You agreed with a soft smile. It was quiet for a while as you watched the cars on the roads and the people hurrying by. The world seemed to be in a rush but you and Minho were here, taking things step by step.

"Why'd you pick that dance?" He broke the silence.

"I don't know, it's just so...I don't know."

"Such a way with words."

"Hey! I'm a dancer not a poet."

"Yeah, I know. And a beautiful dancer at that. But seriously, why that dance over the other ones?"

"I've always loved that dance. It's just so beautiful, intimate, emotional. I've always wanted to perform it and it felt like fate when it was revealed to be one of the duets." Minho nodded, waiting a beat.

"You will be performing that dance. I promise you, we can do it."

"I think we can too. But hey, why didn't you protest? Before, you know, we argued over everything. I thought you would have wanted to do one of the other ones."

"No, it's my favourite out of all of the duets too."

***

You had been preparing for weeks and now there was only a month left until the auditions. As you and Minho perfected the dance and grew closer you began to feel more certain about two things. 1. You actually stood a chance at being picked for the dance, especially with Minho, aka the best dancer in the entire class, by your side. 2. You were definitely starting to fall for him.

Chan had been right. He had predicted this. And he would not stop reminding you.

"I called this years ago. I must be psychic or something," Chan said as the two of you walked to Hyunjin and Felix's apartment on Friday. Tonight, Hyunjin had claimed, would be the party of the decade. All that booze and music and dancing and you were only going to see Minho. The guys had begged you to agree to come but you kept turning them down, parties just weren't your thing. But when Minho had asked you one time in class if you'd be going you found yourself saying yes. You had told Chan and everyone else that you had changed your mind, they didn't need to know the real reason why you were going.

"Chan, shut up. You're not psychic, we aren't dating."

"Yet. You like him. He likes you. I predicted that."

"You only know one of those things for certain."

"How do you know that?"

"Minho would keep that stuff to himself. Hell, he didn't even tell you when he was ill. Why would he tell you if he liked me?"

"Don't bring that up, I'm still mad at him for that." You rolled your eyes. "But, I really do think he likes you back."

"Yeah, well, we'll never know unless he tells us."

"Or you could confess?"

"Absolutely not. And don't even try and argue with me on this. You cannot persuade me to confess right now. Not gonna happen." He opened his mouth to speak. "Ah! What did I say? No arguing. Anyway, look, we're here now so just drop it for the time being."

The two of you walked into Hyunjin and Felix's place. It was already full of noise and people. The two of you were greeted by Felix who already appeared to have had too much to drink. He pulled you into an embrace before leading you both to the kitchen to get drinks.

A few drinks in and you were starting to feel a little tipsy. You danced with Changbin and Felix to the music, feeling it course through you veins.

"I'm gonna get another drink," You called over the music to them before heading back to the kitchen. You were about to enter the kitchen when you heard a voice from inside. Minho's voice.

"Most vicious bitch I've ever met. Y/N L/N, who could stand to be around her, let alone befriend or date her." You felt your heart drop as you quickly pushed your way through the crowd. You couldn't stop the tears from falling. Oh god, why did you have to cry over him?

You thought you had misjudged him but it turns out he was exactly who you thought he was. And that hurt so much more than being wrong.

You made your way to the door as you felt a hand lay on your shoulder. You spun around to see who it was.

"Hyunjin," You sobbed.

"Hey, what's wrong?" He pulled you into his chest.

"I don't wanna talk about it right now. Just, please, take me home."

"Yeah, okay."

Minho had left the kitchen now. As he walked through the crowds, he caught sight of your tear stained face by the door. He watched as Hyunjin took his jacket off and wrapped it around you before swinging his arm around your shoulder. He watched as Hyunjin guided you out of the apartment and you left.

***

"Please," You practically begged Miss Crawford on Monday morning. "I can't work with him, I've tried."

"But it's so close to the auditions."

"I know but please." You couldn't stop the tears. "I've spoken to Hyunjin and his partner, they've agreed. I've worked with Hyunjin before and we dance well together."

"Okay. I can see that whatever is going on is really upsetting you so I'll allow you to swap."

You thanked her before heading to the classroom. There you were greeted by Hyunjin and Felix. You had already explained to them what had happened on Friday, begging Hyunjin to talk to his dance partner to swap.

"Hey, how you holding up?" Felix asked.

"I'm okay. She allowed us to swap."

"Alright, good." You smiled softly but it was quickly replaced with a frown when you saw Minho walk through the door.

He approached you.

"I saw you crying on Friday night, are you alright? What happened?"

"Minho, just stay away from her, yeah? She doesn't wanna talk to you right now. You and Hyunjin have swapped for the auditions, alright? So just go and practice."

"But I-"

"Just leave it, Minho," Felix said, stepping further in front of you to block you from his view. He sighed in defeat, unsure of what he had done wrong.

He did try to talk to you again. He caught you walking home alone and approached you.

"Y/N, please, talk to me. What's wrong?"

"Like you care."

"I do care!"

"No, you don't. Just stop lying, leave me alone!" You shouted.

"No, I won't. Not until you talk to me."

"You want me to talk to you, huh? Want me to say something? Well, I have three words for you. I hate you! Did you hear that? I hate you, Lee Minho!" He was taken aback by your words. He couldn't find the words to say, instead he watched you walk away, desperately searching for a way to reach out to you.

After that, the days went by agonisingly slow for him as he watched you and Hyunjin in lessons, dancing and laughing.

They were painful for you too. All laughter faded when you turned to see Minho dancing with his new partner, Leah. They looked so beautiful dancing together. You were jealous and upset and angry all at the same time. It reminded you that Minho could dance with anyone. You were never special to him.

"They look good together."

"Yeah, but you were better with him. It felt more emotional, you know, real feelings there."

"On my part maybe. But I know how he really feels now."

"Y/N, are you sure you heard right?"

"I know what I heard, Hyunjin. Please, just stop bringing it up. I just wanna focus on this audition, put him in the past."

And you did try your hardest to focus. You knew that your biggest competition for the duet was Minho. Hell, you were certain that him and Leah were going to get picked but still, you wanted to try.

Minho knew that it was between him and Leah, and you and Hyunjin too. He reckoned it could go either way. He thought about what would happen if he and Leah got it. Would you think he did it on purpose now that things were back to the way they were before?

Except they weren't back to the way they were before. Before neither of you liked each other. This time was much worse because you were all he could think about. He had fallen for you and now you hated him.

But despite your renewed hatred he couldn't bring himself to hate you back. Maybe he should've, you hated him without even explaining to him why but things were different now that he knew what you were really like. He racked his brain trying to think of something he did wrong or how to fix things with you but he couldn't come up with anything.

He pushed it aside, let thoughts of the audition consume his mind. Leah was a good dancer too, but there was no love in the dance. How could there be? All of his was reserved for you.

The day of the auditions finally rolled around. He watched as you practiced with Hyunjin. He hated seeing his hands on your waist. Even worse, he hated seeing you kiss him. He felt jealousy rise up in the pit of his stomach.

He worried that maybe you enjoyed kissing Hyunjin more. Maybe you liked Hyunjin. He found himself rethinking as many interactions between you and Hyunjin as he could think of. Looking for any sign that showed you had feelings for him.

"Alright class," Miss Crawford spoke up, interrupting his thoughts. "Welcome to the auditions for the Manon duet. If you could all line up outside in your pairs, I'll set up and get ready and then I'll bring you in, one pair at a time." Everyone shuffled out and did as she said. Minho was a few pairs in front of you, he watched as you nervously paced back and forth in front of Hyunjin. He saw Hyunjin reach for you and place his hands on your shoulders, stilling you.

"You like her, right?"

"What?" He asked, turning to Leah.

"You like Y/N. I can tell from the way you're scowling at Hyunjin."

"Yeah, fine, I like her but as you can clearly see, she's not so fond of me."

"What happened? She never told me but I saw how distraught she was and that's why I agreed to swap."

"I have no idea. I can't even get her to talk to me to tell me."

"Just keep trying. I'm sure she'll tell you eventually. Then you can fix this."

"I hope I can."

"Next!" He heard the professor called.

"That's us, come on," He said before leading the way into the classroom. As he prepared to dance, his mind wandered to you again. It rarely wandered away from thoughts of you, to be honest. He thought of how you smiled, how you laughed. Mostly, he thought of the way you danced. You were perfect for this dance. You deserved it.

He knew that the stakes were pretty even. It could go either way but he didn't want to risk you losing. That's why he did what he did.

***

It was a known fact that Minho never forgot a routine. Never once, in his many year of dancing, had he forgotten a routine.

Truth be told, he didn't forget this one either. This dance was practically imprinted onto his brain with how much he thought of dancing with you.

But still, as the music began he figured a lie would be the only way to guarantee that you would get the part. So that's what he did. He stopped midway through, pretending to forget, lying to the professor. Sabotaging his dance for you.

As he and Leah left the room, the professor sighed. He slumped his shoulders pretending to be upset.

"Sorry I forgot the dance," He said to Leah.

"Forgot the dance, my ass. It was for her right? Don't worry, your secret is safe with me." He couldn't stop the smile from spreading across his face as he walked out of the classroom.

You saw the smile. It made your heart flutter, which you mentally cursed yourself for. But it also made you feel nervous. He must've been smiling because of how well him and Leah did in the audition.

He continued to smile until you caught his eye. His smile dropped but his eyes softened. You were quick to look away but out of the corner of your eye you saw him stop in his tracks, hesitating before moving away. You tried not to think about the look in his eyes as he had gazed at you, instead turning to talk to Hyunjin.

The line was quickly getting shorter as your turn approached. Finally, you were called in. Hyunjin gave your hand a squeeze before the two of you walked in. You breathed heavily as you took your place.

When the music began it flooded your senses. You let the rhythm overtake you and you danced like your life depended on it. Your heart was hammering in your chest as the dance concluded. That was the best you had ever danced, you were sure.

"We did it Mi-Hyunjin!"

Right, I'm not dancing with Minho anymore.

Your smile faultered slightly but you were quick to cover it, pulling Hyunjin into an embrace.

Now you only had to wait until the end of the week when the bulletin would be posted.

For the rest of the week, your lessons focused solely on group dances. Luckily, your position in all of the group dances was on the other side of the stage to Minho so you could avoid him during the dances. But still everytime he caught your eye you found him already looking at you.

The group dances were enjoyable and your classes went by quickly. In no time at all the end of the week came and the bulletin was posted.

Together, you and Hyunjin nervously approached the board.

"I can't look, tell me if we got it," Hyunjin said, squeezing his eyes shut. You rolled your eyes at his dramatics before looking at the board. "Your silence is scaring me." He opened one eye to look at you.

"We got it!"

"We got it?"

"Yes!" You jumped into his arms as the two of you laughed.

A little way down the corridor Minho leaned against the wall watching the two of you. He smiled as he saw the excitement on your face. 'Forgetting' the dance was the best thing he ever did. It was worth it, just to see that smile on your face.

***

"Thanks for the flowers."

"What flowers?" Hyunjin asked, looking at you with a confused expression.

It was finally the day of the show. You and the rest of the class had worked tirelessly to prepare for the show and today was finally the day. When you had entered your dressing room you had found a bouquet of flowers sitting on your dressing table.

"The ones on my dressing table."

"Sorry, Y/N, but they're not from me."

"Oh, was it you then?" You asked, turning to Felix.

"Not me, sorry." You were confused. You looked around at the other students milling around backstage when you caught Minho looking at you. Suddenly it clicked and you stormed over to him.

"It was you, wasn't it? The flowers?"

"Yes," He admitted, quietly.

"Why? Why would you leave me flowers?"

"To wish you luck."

"To wish me luck? What, is this some kind of sick joke? Why would you leave me flowers? I know what you really think about me."

"What are you talking about?"

"You two, stop talking and get into place! The dance is about to start," Miss Crawford interrupted the two of you before you could answer Minho's question. You both quickly took your places, ready to go on stage. Minho's mind was racing as he danced, wondering what you possibly could have meant by what you said.

Your mind was racing too. Why was the look of confusion on his face so genuine? He knew what he had said, why was he acting dumb about it?

When you had come off stage you had no memory of the dance you had just performed at all. Your mind was too busy thinking about Minho that you just danced like you were in a trance.

"Hey, are you alright?" Leah asked you as she walked over to you.

"Yeah." Although you didn't sound too convincing.

"Well, you better get changed for your duet. It's almost time for it."

"Yeah, you're right." You weren't really paying attention to her, mind still buzzing. You turned your back to her and began to walk away.

"Y/N, you better perform it well. You cost me that dance!" You stopped in your tracks, turning back around to face her.

"What?"

"Well, Minho cost me that dance."

"Leah, what are you talking about?"

"Our audition, Minho forgot our dance. There's only one problem."

"Minho never forgets a dance, " You finished her sentence.

"Exactly. Go, talk to him before you go on stage." You nodded, quickly turning and running off in search of Minho. You found him sitting in his dressing room.

"Why did you pretend to forget the dance?" There was no time to beat around the bush, you wanted to find out what was going on, once and for all.

"Oh, you know about that."

"I do. Leah told me. So, why did you pretend to forget the dance?"

"You must know that I did it for you, to guarantee that you got the dance."

"But why?"

"Because I knew how desperately you wanted it."

"I don't understand. Why would you do that for me? I thought you didn't care about me. After what you said I thought you didn't like me."

"After what I said? What did I say? Tell me."

"Stop acting like you don't know."

"I don't. Please tell me because whatever it was, it cost me you. I don't wanna lose you, please, tell me."

"That night, at Hyunjin's party, what you said in the kitchen. You said I was a vicious bitch. You said you couldn't stand to be around me, let alone befriend or date me." Minho looked at you for a moment before laughing. You were hurt by his laughter. "Why the hell are you laughing?"

"I was talking to my friend, Taehyun, that night so you can ask him to verify this but that's not all I said. I can understand why hearing those words must have hurt you and I'm sorry but you didn't stick around to hear the rest of what I said." He took a deep breath before continuing. "What I said that night was if you had asked me a few months prior about you I would've said you were the most vicious bitch and I couldn't stand to be around you, let alone befriend or date you. But now that I've gotten to know you, I see how wrong about you I was. Now, if I got the chance I would spend every waking moment with you."

"I- you..." You were lost for words.

"Yes, I used to think those things, back when we weren't friends, when we had our stupid rivalry or whatever the hell that was going on. But now everything is different. Y/N, I don't think those things about you. I don't hate you, I really like you, hell, I love you." You stood in shock.

"Minho..." You began to cry.

"Hey, I'm sorry, it's okay if you don't feel the same." He placed his hands on your shoulders.

"No, the thing is I do feel the same. But I lied and told you I hated you. I don't hate you. I hated that fact that I love you while I believed you thought those things about me. I'm sorry. This is all my fault, I should've let you explain. I'm sorry."

"It's alright. Look, it took us a while but we finally sorted it all out right?" He took you into his arms as you buried your face in his chest. You stayed like that hugging and swaying slightly for a little while before he pulled away. "Wait a minute, did you say you loved me?"

"You said it first."

"I did." You both smiled at each other, hugging again.

"I have to go. It's almost time for my duet and I haven't even got changed yet." You pulled away

"Okay, I'll see you afterwards." He leaned in to kiss you.

"Wait."

"What? What is it?"

"Not yet. I have to go on stage on kiss Hyunjin." Minho groaned.

"Don't remind me, it's been killing me these last few weeks seeing you kiss him."

"We were in the same boat! I had to see you kiss Leah."

"Yeah, I suppose you're right. Anyway, why can't I kiss you yet?"

"Kiss me afterwards. Let it wipe the slate clean, something new for us to start together and the kiss can be the very beginning of it."

"Yeah, I like that. Okay, when you come off stage I'll kiss you and we'll start our new journey together whatever that may be." He agreed.

"We'll take it nice and slow, figure this out together."

"Sounds good. Just you and me."

"Just you and me."

#lee know #lee minho #kpop #skz #stray kids #skz lee minho #skz lee know #lee know x reader #lee know fluff #fanfiction #fanfic

225 notes · View notes