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zzoguri · 16 days

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finger trapped (ripped to its seams) ➵ sung hanbin

sung hanbin x reader

with an unexpected reunion, you and hanbin relive the memories of cheonan—and confront what could’ve been between you two.

general genre/warnings ➵ friends to almost lovers, angst, fluff, gender neutral reader, some depressive and insecure thoughts, hurt/comfort, the last five years story-telling method (aka present will be told going backwards while past will be told moving forward... i hope that makes sense), brief mention of blood from picking on your skin, tiger parents so... parental issues, unexpected reunion, keeping secrets & lying, jealousy remains but love triumphs, journalist reader (u kno i had to do it), reader is a nerd and hanbin is a student-athlete, kms jokes from jongseob (all /lh), finger traps aren’t efficient after all

word count ➵ 15.6k words

playlist ➵ end of beginning by djo // high school in jakarta by niki // i know it won't work by gracie abrams // no big deal (i love you) by dodie // keeping tabs by niki // no one knows by stephen sanchez & laufey // so what now by reneé rapp // i wish i hated you by ariana grande // the 1 by taylor swift // seasons by wave to earth

a/n ➵ it's finally out! this work is so so personal to me on so many levels so i hope you all love and treat this fic with care :')) for the bitches who struggle with parents and dreams.... this one's for you (i am in the same boat) i appreciate everyone who's been so patient and looking forward to this fic's release. please do reblog and leave feedback!!

want to be part of my taglist? send me an ask! masterlist

present -> three weeks after the interview, 2024

the newsroom never sleeps. the rings of landlines and clacks of keyboards bounce off the four walls. through light bulbs or sunshine, light continues to remain. and at every corner, a journalist stands—ready to enter the depths of slumber but remain on their toes as they await for an update on their unraveling story.

but the newsroom is rarely busy unless there’s a major nationwide event, election season or the super bowl to name a few, for most journalists are out to discover what the world has to offer.

knowledge doesn’t only come from the chitchat of your coworkers. it’s only on the field that you’ll hear of hearsay and testimonies. after all, the choice to probe rests on your shoulders.

“there’s a typo over there.”

“huh? where?”

“over here,” you mumble as your finger darts to point at a section on the screen. “it’s supposed to say “with the climactic finale of boys planet,” not climatic.”

“ah, i see it now. sorry about that,” lee jihoon of digital development says as he corrects the error. his hair is disheveled from the hood that once perched on his head during the night he spent in the newsroom. you would’ve scolded the guy—go home and take a shower before you stink up the place—but you are no better, grouped with the other journalists who stayed up in the office.

“there we go. should be all good. now, are you ready to go through the profiles?”

an exhausted chuckle departs from your lips. “yeah, let’s go—”

“what’s the update?” life and arts editor kim namjoon—your editor—comes to you with a smile.

the grey hoodie he wears paired with comfortable jeans shows that he’s a little relaxed. for once, you don’t see him on his phone, battling the deadlines or getting pitched stories by the other editors. it’s a nice sight but one that won’t last for long.

“we just finished going through the article about the group, so we still have yet to go through the profiles.” jihoon then looks at you. “i can’t believe you basically wrote 10 articles. like, nine profiles and one main article is a lot. you didn’t want to work on it with anyone else?”

once namjoon stands beside you, you bump your shoulder against his figure. “i didn’t have a choice, did i?” it’s a rhetorical question but one your editor still chooses to answer.

“unfortunately, we’re understaffed, but it seemed like you got the hang of it. i wouldn’t have trusted anyone else to do it.” namjoon shoots you a smile before redirecting his attention back to jihoon. “and as much as i’d love to tell y/n more, we have to pick up the pace.” without any further questions, the three of you resume with work.

there’s no time to waste in the journalism industry. still, his praise doesn’t go unnoticed.

one article turned into eight done in a matter of 30 minutes, all with the help of three pairs of eyes to go through them. (namjoon seemed to carry the heavy lifting. after all, the guy was trained to be quick in reading and spotting errors.)

it should’ve been easy to keep up with your editor for all the other articles; you know each profile like the back of your hand.

then, the face of a boy who you once knew sits on the screen.

his gaze seems to pierce through your soul, almost in the same way you last talked to him. the loose ends of composure slip through your fingers; your breath’s stuck in your throat as the hammering of your heart fills your ears. yet, he stands still on the monitor.

as your eyes drift through the passages you’ve written, every sound is drowned out. the voice of your editor fades like the everchanging seasons and the clicks of the keyboard resemble the sobs you let out in the comfort of your childhood room.

and suddenly, the hands of the clock have turned all the way back to 2017. the cubicles transformed into aisles of chips and instant ramen, and you hear mr. kim’s voice in the distance—i have some hotteok! fresh from the pan! but amidst it all, you hear the giggles of the boy, your best friend, as he rushes towards you—i’ll go audition and make you proud. as your arm is wrapped with the heat of his fingers, you almost believe that your life as a journalist is nothing but a dream—

“i knew him.” the illusion disappears within a blink of an eye. namjoon’s eyes snap towards you and jihoon stops scrolling through the website. “we went to the same high school.”

you aren’t sure why you revealed that to your coworkers, let alone your boss. it’s an old memory—your weight to carry. before you can apologize for disrupting their work, namjoon’s hand rests on your shoulder, his thumb drawing shapes into it. when you look over at him, you’re greeted by his smile. it resembles your bed after a long day of work or a slow day at the newsroom.

but it never lives up to him, whose giggles resemble nature’s symphonies. the two shots of espresso you need at the start of the day once came in the form of his warm embrace. most of all, his smile is enough to illuminate the world even through the strongest storms and times when power went out.

for the remaining articles, not a single word leaves you. before you know it, all 10 articles were ready to go up on the web.

“that’s all of it. should i still schedule them to go up around 12 p.m.?” jihoon notes as he saves the drafts.

“yeah, 12 p.m. still sounds good. thanks a lot.” namjoon nudges his shoulder before looking over to you. “let’s talk in my office.”

you don’t question his orders. once namjoon takes off, you follow him all the way to his office. as he swings the door open, you are met with the familiar sight of his workspace. hues of green and brown mix, where nature and art meet within the space of corporate.

once namjoon takes a seat on his chair, you find your spot across from him. his eyes stare off to the window. for a moment, you’re not sure what to expect from this impromptu meeting.

seconds pass and not a single word has been said—

“this place’s always alive,” your editor breaks the silence. “don’t you think so?”

you follow his line of sight. busy seoul never changes; the skyscrapers pollute the sky and the people never sleep, off to work or off to party.

“where’d you grow up again?”

you look back at namjoon whose eyes still remain locked on the city. “cheonan.”

he hums. “i haven’t been there. nice place?”

“yeah, but i haven’t gone back in a while.”

“when was the last time?” his eyes finally meet yours.

your teeth grasp the inside of your cheek. “2017, since i first left,” you admit.

“do you miss it?”

you’re not sure how to answer. the pavements you’ve scraped your knees against and the walls your laughs bounced off of—do you miss them all? or is the reason behind your laughter and scabs the one you long for?

“is that why you were hesitant about interviewing them?” namjoon’s thumbs fiddle with each other. “because of your history with him?”

now, you stare at your linked hands. maybe the silence from you is enough to answer his question but you know namjoon would never settle for a soundless answer.

“i—i’m not a good person. and even if i didn’t make the choice to leave, i—” you hold yourself back. your fingers start to pick on the skin around your thumbs, peeling it so blood can spill.

“it’s okay, i understand. you don’t have to share it with me.” your eyes drift back to namjoon, spotting a small smile that rests on his face. “it must’ve been hard to relive it all.”

the bond you have with namjoon is one that you hold close to your heart. through his mentorship, you got to learn about what it means to be a writer. the fears of being a journalist would loom over you, where questions of salary and demanding work hours would occupy your mind, but namjoon became someone who would absolve them all. he became a pillar in your life, one that provides you hope and comfort within the industry.

“so, don’t feel pressured to talk about it. but if you ever want to open up about it, then i’ll be here.”

namjoon’s giving you an exit. are you willing to take it?

you cross your arms as you lean back into the chair. “you know how i was a science major then?”

“yeah, i remember looking over your resume. and then i saw that you were part of your university’s publication.”

your tongue pushes against the inside of your cheek. “i would’ve gotten some job in that field, like, i had it lined up for me.”

“really? like lab coat and all?”

as namjoon attempts to hold back his laugh over the image, you chuckle along. “yeah, lab coat and all! it’s crazy how my life was all set for that field, but i’m here now.” you look down at your arms. “i think just facing him in a completely different field that i once used to imagine with him was just strange. but i think hearing his answers really did it for me.”

namjoon nods at your words. “care to have lunch with me?” your eyes snap back to your editor. “i’m guessing you want to talk about it, after all.”

all you do is smile before getting off your seat.

spring of 2017

the season of spring has graced cheonan; the sun gleams in the expanse of blue and birds perched on tree branches sing their songs. it’s the perfect season to embrace the wonders of the town.

while it would be a delight to bask under the returning warmth, you’re stuck within the walls of the classroom, head resting on crossed arms.

still, the lilacs have yet to bloom.

“y/n.” you quickly sit up before your eyes settle on your adviser, ms. jeon, who stands in front of the classroom. “let’s take attendance.”

with that, you’re beside her as you call out each name on the class list. it’s a quick process of saying your classmates’ names for them to respond in variations of “present,” until you reach the section of last names that start with a ‘s’.

“sung hanbin.” no response.

you rip your eyes off the piece of paper, only met with your classmates who either look at each other in confusion or spaced out in their own worlds.

“sung hanbin?” when you’re met with the same reaction, you’re ready to mark the student absent—

“sorry!” the doors slam open. a boy clad in a white polo and jogging pants is panting by the entrance, covered in sweat as he rests on the edge of it. “sorry, i’m late.”

“oh, it’s okay! you arrived just in time.” ms. jeon smiles at the tardy student. as you watch him take a seat, his eyes lock with yours, but your adviser nudges you before saying, “y/n, proceed.”

sung hanbin made his name a few years back at a competition. the applause and roars from the crowd marked his spot in the school. others describe his movement as of cranes, standing in the middle of a pond as they do their best to minimize forming any ripples, or of elephants, swaying their trunks with control like no other.

but he’s a versatile dancer; nothing can truly capture him.

once you’ve finished marking the attendance, you go back to your seat. you’re ready to start the day with no bother but you can’t shake the feeling of being watched.

“now, you can see in these,” your art teacher, ms. park, points to the screen showcasing works from her favorite contemporary artists like kwon yongju and félix gonzález-torres, “that there are no borders to what constitutes art. and that’s not wrong because we have to recognize that art comes in different forms as we progress, from traditional painting and sculptures to digital ones.”

this field isn't your strong suit. with a greater understanding of the sciences, you struggle to create anything that could be on par with the works of any artist. yet, you enjoyed learning about every piece that your teacher shared, like unfolding and admiring something you know you can never replicate or create. still, the universe decides that they have other plans for you.

“as i mentioned before, i’ll be giving you time to work on your final assessment, which is to create an artwork for the class exhibit. for this deliverable, i’m asking that your work will be a collaborative one, meaning you aren’t working alone.” in a sea of chatter, some groans exit your classmates. “remember, inspiration doesn’t come from your own bubble! take this as your opportunity to create something that you’ve never imagined.”

within a split second, students are off their seats as they attempt to find a partner to work with. you, however, were struggling to think of who you could team up with. admittedly, you have a very different work style compared to others—even lee soojin, aspiring valedictorian, didn’t enjoy working with you. she turned every activity into a competition against you. (you didn’t enjoy her, either.) while you’re considering shamefully going up to your classmates like a stray dog looking for anyone willing to care for them—

“hi!” in front of you stands the tardy student of today, all smiles as his hands find comfort in the pockets of his jogging pants. “do you have a partner already?”

with furrowed eyebrows, you can’t help but look him up and down. “no, why?”

“well,” hanbin looks around the classroom, “everyone seems to have paired up except for us.” as his eyes drift back to you, he flashes you a smile, one that shows the whiskers engraved into his cheeks. “which leaves me to ask if you would like to work with me for this.”

you don’t have a choice. ms. park would never bend the rules for you. if anything, she would find a way to pair you with another student who would dread the idea of working with you. (“i’m sure they won’t mind being partners with you, right?” is what she would ask the poor student, only to be met with their retreat.)

“unless we accept a failing mark, which i’m sure we both don’t want.” it’s not like hanbin had a choice as well.

“okay.” with one word, light fills his eyes, enough to resemble the starlight that grazes your skin every night. “we can meet and discuss our schedules, especially because i’ve got ap stat, and you have, uhm,” a cough leaves you, “training, i’m assuming, or rehearsals. i don’t really know what you call them.”

his eyebrows shoot up as his mouth parts open. “o—oh, yeah. i usually have training after class until 8 p.m. on tuesdays, thursdays, and saturdays.”

“same. my classes are until 7 p.m. on tuesdays and thursdays, so maybe we can use the other days to work together?”

with one nod from him, his dimples reappear. “great! i’ll see you tomorrow.”

before you know it, everyone finds their way back to their seats for ms. park’s final reminders. you do your best to pay attention to every announcement, jotting down every word on your planner and planning out your agenda for the upcoming weeks. yet, your eyes seem to have a mind of their own as they drift back to the boy who discreetly passes notes to choi jiung, another dancer on the team, all while listening to the teacher.

you don’t notice how long you spend staring at hanbin until he turns to meet your gaze. in that split second, you look at each other—then, embarrassment washes over you. you shift your attention back to ms. park. as you drum your fingers against the desk, mentally kicking yourself over the interaction, you still can’t shake the feeling of being watched.

you look back at hanbin; he’s still looking at you.

his dimples make their reappearance before he looks back at ms. park. you do the same as you attempt to listen to her ramble about banksy’s works.

(you’re still thinking about his whiskers.)

the first time you get to meet with hanbin for the project happens the following week. you two had different commitments to attend to, whether it be other projects or training. and while you would usually settle to meet in the school library or a cafe nearby, you find yourself inside the empty gymnasium, sitting on bleachers while your partner stands in front of mirrors.

“don’t you think it would be nice to combine our hobbies together?”

your pencil taps against the notebook. “like, your dancing? with what?”

“whatever you like to do!” once he makes his way to you, he leans on the row in front of you with crossed arms. “i mean, do you have anything you like to do during your free time?”

a scoff leaves you. “funny of you to assume that i have free time.”

“what’s your schedule like?”

“well, i have our classes and ap ones, then kumon at night.”

hanbin reels at the thought of your schedule. “that’s brutal. the last time i had kumon was back in grade 4.”

“yeah, but i’m sure yours is busy as well. the amount of time that you put into training is…” his eyes are wide, hanging on your words. it’s the hope they hold that has you say, “admirable.”

a shy smile takes over his features. “yeah, but it’s only because my family is supportive of what i do.”

then, limbs whose color resembles the void slither their way to your heart, wrapping around it while the organ struggles to beat; it’s a slow process but an unending hole that will birth from it. yet, you do your best to fight off these limbs, unraveling them one by one in hopes it will give up—until you settle for shaking them off.

you only muster out a hum.

“do you have anything you like to do during those short breaks?”

your lips trill. “i don’t know. watch something on youtube?”

his cheeks puff up, stuck in his thoughts as he tries to navigate this project—and you—until his eyes glint. “what do you do when you want to vent?”

“you sure have a lot of questions,” you comment, trying to hold back a chuckle at his curiosity. “i can just adjust to you. maybe attempt to draw, picture, or even film you.”

his eyebrows furrow. “but that wouldn’t make it collaborative. i want us to work on something that aligns with what we do.”

a beat passes.

he holds your gaze. “i want us to create something that shows us.”

inside you, a gong is struck; its sound reverberates throughout your body, from the crown of your forehead to the tips of your toes. then, silence seeps in—a moment only for you and him.

“i, uh, write,” you whisper as your eyes shift to the notebook resting on your lap.

“really? like, stories and poetry?”

you nod. “i like writing people’s stories more, but i do like making ones.” when you look back at hanbin, his eyes are still filled with curiosity. “i would, like, find interviews online and try to make my own, sort of, uhm—god this is embarrassing. forget about it.”

“huh? no, it isn’t!” he attempts to reassure your shrunken figure. “i mean, you don’t have to share more if you really don’t want to, but i’d like to hear more about it.” and when his dimples appear, you almost can’t help but feel your face warm up.

“i’d make articles, i guess?” he nods along with your words. “i don’t know, it’s just interesting to hear about people’s lives and kind of create something out of it, and i like thinking about all the possibilities of who would love to hear them. like, don’t you think that some of the stories that we read hold fragments of someone?”

“that’s an interesting way to look at it.”

as you doodle on your notebook, you say, “yeah, it’s just fun to hear these stories and maybe create something out of it. or even think of stories that i could never live out, you know?” you expect yourself to be met with the bored face of hanbin but his eyes remain on you.

“what if you interview me?”

your eyebrows shoot up. “you?”

“yeah,” he stands up before walking up to your row, finding a spot beside you. “think of me as your first interviewee if you want.”

the sudden suggestion has you stumbling over your words. “huh? b—but, i don’t have questions prepared. and how does this help our project?”

when his arms brush against yours, you start to become aware of the distance between your shoulders—and his face from yours. warmth spreads throughout your body, almost like you’re about to have a fever. once his open hand rests near yours, you don’t know what he’s asking.

“let me draw it out for you.” you hand him your pencil and notebook, allowing him to see your doodles. (you don’t miss his grin.) “you know, with that article you make, we can cut it up and create something out of it.” a roughly drawn sketch of a boy posed in the middle of a dance move now rests on the page. “i don’t know if a collage would be okay.”

as you think about what can be done, you perch your chin on your palm. “we can do papercut art? basically, it’s cutting up the article in a way to form an image.”

“oh, that sounds cool!”

“yeah, but the only challenge is that we can only use one piece of paper.” a sigh leaves you. “it would be impossible for me to even do that.”

“that’s why you have me.” his small smile causes wind chimes to ring. (you’re positive you heard them, even if there were no such things in the gymnasium.)

he continues to sketch out the layout of your joint artwork. “how do we feel about this?” on the paper, there are two boxes beside the figure, where one is labeled as “photo of me” while the other is labeled “an article by y/n.” your head tilts. “it’ll be a three-set piece. so, it’ll be a photo of me and your article, and in between is the papercut art that we’ll make.”

you hum. “you know, you’re very creative.” you look at him only to see that he’s been staring at you. “like, you’re inclined to the arts. i wouldn’t have been able to think of something like this.”

“you’re just as creative,” he argues back as he writes down something.

you shake your head before retorting, “hanbin, you’re very talented. i’ve seen the way you dance,” his movements halt, “and you’re like no other dancer i’ve seen. if you ever try out to be an idol, i’m sure you’d do great, maybe end up on the list of the best dancers in the industry.”

but he shakes his head, going back to writing on your notebook and shutting down your compliments. you decide to not push.

“i can get the photo sometime during my training,” he says as he hands you your notebook.

“then i can have the questions sometime this week. for the article, i can have it done maybe four days after the interview. how does wednesday, after school, sound for the interview?”

he shoots you a smile before standing up from his seat. “that’s perfect! i’m looking forward to meeting journalist y/n.” you can’t help but scoff at what he calls you. “what’s wrong?”

“nothing,” you shake your head. “it’s just a silly name.” because the reality is that you had your future planned out—and it definitely didn’t involve that field.

he shrugs. “i don’t know, i think it would fit you.”

“but you haven’t read any of my works.”

“but i want to root for you in the same way you do for me. i don’t want you to feel ashamed of your works.” a fire ignites in your heart; it’s a fireplace.

you’re baffled that hanbin, out of all people, now holds your secret, but you’re even astounded over the idea of him supporting you. you almost can’t remember the last time you heard such words of support. is it genuine or nothing but a facade?

“anyway, i’ve got to go. i need to catch up on some homework.” while you shoot him a nod, his dimples make their appearance once more. “i’ll see you tomorrow!” as he takes off, you’re left in the gymnasium with your opened notebook and unlocked heart. you look back down at his sketch surrounded by your doodles, but you don’t miss his little note—cute doodles btw <3

the season of spring has unfolded in cheonan; a single lilac has bloomed.

present -> a day before the interview, 2024

it’s a late night on a tuesday, about to be a midnight wednesday, and you’re in a convenience store as you scout for your dinner. all hauled up in the newsroom, the idea of ordering food during a time where restaurants would still be open slipped your mind. now, you’re left to scan through the same options you’ve eaten for the past years since you started living in seoul.

the convenience clerks are familiar with you, both kim jongseob and kim jiwoo. with your constant late-night meals at the store, you’d talk to whichever one had a shift. jongseob is saving up to upgrade his setup at home to record more music. with all the stories he shares about his time in underground rap battles along with the short verses he’s performed for you, you’re positive that he’ll get signed to a label soon. as for jiwoo, this is one of the many jobs she has in order to save enough money for fashion school. you’ve seen her sketches and outfits she’s put together and you’re hoping that she’ll get accepted.

a sigh leaves you. you didn’t have a problem with eating the food here but you were craving for something new in your life in seoul. the perpetual cycle of eating takeout food and unconsciously skipping meals for work needed to be disrupted just for a moment. but you weren’t seeking michelin-star food—all you wanted was something home cooked. something from home.

the spice of tteokbokki, the burn of freshly fried hotteok, and the sweetness of homemade peach iced tea—mr. kim’s convenience store had it all.

your tastebuds long for cheonan.

“planning to beat your record of spending 23 minutes on deciding what to get?”

you roll your eyes before looking to your right, seeing jongseob stock up the drinks in the fridge. “i hate you.”

“what? i’m just saying, you’re taking a lot longer to decide today.” he chuckles before placing the last bottle of sweetened probiotic milk in the fridge. “none of the options look good to you?”

“sort of,” you hum before you scan through the aisle of packaged meals. “i think i’m craving for something different.”

“i get it. the food here can get boring, which is why i’m planning to order pizza if you want to split the costs.”

your eyebrows shoot up at jongseob’s suggestion. “really? you’d share pizza with me?”

“yeah, as long as you pay for your share.” he shoots you a smile before grabbing on a trolley carrying empty boxes. “unless… you want to pay for the whole thing.”

you bite back a smile as you shake your head. you should’ve known the guy would ask you to buy him food, but you knew that he needed the money and you at least had a stable income to keep you comfortable. “fine,” jongseob’s smile grows as you fish out your wallet from your pocket and pull out a couple of bills. “just order enough for us two.”

“of course,” he says as soon as you hand him some money. “i’ll make sure to order the most expensive thing on the menu.”

you scoff at his joke. “just make sure to treat me to something.”

the bell by the door chimes. “sorry, can’t hear you over that! need to attend to a customer!” jongseob dashes away from you while dragging the trolley. that little shit just knew how to press your buttons, but you love the kid, anyway.

still, you stand in the middle of the mart and your heart longs for home.

then, you shut your eyes, and you’re transported back in front of the familiar aisle filled with bags of potato chips and sweet corn. the noisy fan along with the soft sounds of mr. kim’s korean drama fills your ears. a mix of yellow and orange hues paint every corner of the mart, including you—and you’re not alone.

your best friend stands on your right, wearing the unbuttoned school uniform polo over a tank top along with jogging pants. he’s lost in thought as he scans through the options of snacks you two can have for today’s afternoon. he starts to giggle to himself, probably from a silly thought he’ll share with you in the next second or a memory involving you, and his whiskers appear—your heart thumps in your ears.

and just like how quickly you were transported back to cheonan, your surroundings transformed into the cool-lit convenience store found in seoul. all you have left is the image of him bathed in the sunlight.

but he fades away like the ink on old receipts, never gone, because the glowing image of him warps into a different version who stands next to you in the cold mart. he’s grown a few inches taller and his hair doesn’t get in the way of his line of sight. while he wears a green sweater, you notice that he’s gained some muscles. his eyes scan through the aisle behind you filled with different brands of instant ramen.

but he bites the inside of his cheek and his dimples appear.

it’s a tornado that brews within you, enough to uproot trees and displace buildings, all because of an unexpected reunion with hanbin. why did the universe decide to bring two ex-best friends on a random tuesday night? what brings him to the convenience store at the same time you’re there? and why did it have to happen a day before the interview?

you weren’t going to commit the same mistake; keep your eyes off of him and make your way out of the store. it didn’t matter if you had an empty, growling stomach, or gave free money to jongseob. you need to leave without the distant, familiar face noticing.

your feet act fast, and you're almost certain that might’ve caught his attention, but it didn’t matter as you see jongseob standing behind the cashier with his phone out. “i just ordered the pizza. it should arrive in about… 20 to 30 minutes.”

“yeah, about that…”

“don’t tell me you’re taking your money back.”

at the sight of jongseob’s pout, you roll your eyes. “no, keep it. i just—i need to go.”

“what? why?”

you peek behind you. it seems like he didn’t recognize you, after all. “i’ve got… work!”

“but don’t you only have your interview with zerobase—”

“hey!” your fingers snap at him. “you cannot—i mean, you just… just take the goddamn money.”

“but we’re supposed to share the pizza. you haven’t eaten.”

an exasperated sigh leaves you. “jongseob, just treat me next time. i can eat at home.”

and you’re ready to leave the convenience store, bid farewell to jongseob and a delicious pizza made for two, and never greet or say goodbye to the living fragment of what you last know of cheonan—

“y/n?”

and the plan failed.

when you meet his gaze, you’re able to take in the different version of him. he’s grown so much—it’s such a pain that you weren’t there to witness it. his eyes are a pool of emotions; you can’t identify them.

all it takes is one breath from you. “hanbin.”

a beat passes.

“i’m just gonna… go through the storage,” jongseob points his thumb at the back of the mart, “and maybe kill myself afterwards. i don’t know.” before you can protest, he’s already gone. (and he still has your money. that fucker.)

you and hanbin were once painted with the hues of the sun. this reunion is tainted with blue.

hanbin’s fingers tense up, almost as if he was hesitating—debating—on how to approach you. his body would waver, but he never took a step towards you. “i… i wasn’t expecting to meet you here.”

“same here.” you lean your back against the checkout counter. “d—do you stay around this part of the city?”

he shakes his head. “i live around 15, maybe 20, minutes away from here. i’m only here because…” your breath gets caught in your throat. “i don’t know.”

fate. that’s what brought us here.

“do you live here?”

you nod. “yeah, ever since—” the sentence never gets completed; you and him already know.

for a moment, sorrow flashes in his eyes, but a smile shows up. the dimples don’t appear. “i, uh, i was going to get something from here but it seems like your friend is busy.”

“sorry about jongseob.” you whip out your phone and scold him through text. “he should be with us in a bit.”

hanbin hums before walking to the freezer filled with different ice cream. as he looks through the selection, he asks, “do you still like twin bar?”

“y—yeah.”

“still the grape flavor?” you don’t know what to say, but when his gaze meets yours, you settle for a nod. with your favorite ice cream in one hand and a sandwich in the other, he finally walks towards you. you don’t miss the slight stagger in his steps.

hanbin finds his spot beside you. there’s still distance between you two—two tiles worth, enough space for one person—but it’s enough for your muscles to freeze. thankfully, jongseob comes just in time to manage the cashier (with an awkward smile plastered on).

he scans hanbin’s item first before grabbing onto your ice cream.

“oh, i’m paying—”

“no, let me,” hanbin insists. “you can always treat me another time.”

you bite the inside of your cheek, thinking over the second half of his sentence. jongseob holds back from scanning the item, until you shoot him a nod. hanbin pays for the food before jongseob hands them to you.

“i’ll just let you know when the pizza gets here.” his small smile is enough for your shoulders to ease and a quiet exhale to leave. a small nod is all you give him.

you follow hanbin outside to the tables in front of the mart. once he’s settled on a spot, you sit across from him. he tears away the plastic wrapping of his food while you play with the ends of yours.

while he swallows what you assume to be his dinner of the day, you’re left to swallow your own pride.

“i’ve seen your performances.” his chews halt. “you’re—” captivating. “you’ve improved a lot.”

with one gulp, a shy smile takes over his face. “i still have a long way to go.”

“you always say that, even back then.” a half bitten sandwich now rests on the wrapper. “but i admire your drive.” always have.

while a different version of hanbin sits across you, the one you knew back in cheonan still lives. in the busy, unfamiliar expanse of seoul, meeting 7 years later, he’ll never be stranger. you could never treat him as such, even if you wanted to.

“there’s always room for improvement,” he says.

you hum along with his sentiment. “did you stick with early childhood education?” you’re met with his orbs that hold a thousand of emotions, some you can name as shock, confusion. a question hangs in the air—what did you deserve to know?

“sorry, i’m assuming you still went to college, which is totally fine if you did or didn’t, by the way. and it’s also okay if you didn’t stick to your major. i mean, you always talked about pursuing a performing arts degree before—”

“y/n,” he giggles, “you’re okay. i still went to college but i took media & communication.” your eyebrows shoot up at the revelation. “i thought it made sense to study something related to what i do, just the more technical and theoretical side of it, i guess. and the online classes were easy to squeeze into my schedule.” he lifts up the sandwich. “what about you?”

“uh, i ended up in the same course as well.” a hum of shock leaves hanbin. “yeah,” you chuckle, “i managed to shift courses.”

“that’s amazing! i’m happy for you.”

you smile at him. “thanks. now, i’m just—” you should tell him what you do. what would be a better time to reveal that you ended up in the path he dreamed for you to be than now? “—figuring things out.”

with your vagueness, hanbin only nods before munching away. if there’s anything about you that still remains, it’s that you shouldn’t be pushed to share something you didn’t want to talk about. he still knew that.

as he finishes his sandwich, you tear off the plastic wrapping of your ice cream. with the twin bar in your hands, you snap it into two before you hand him a piece. confusion paints his features, wide eyes glossing over the popsicle in your hand, but he takes it before you can say anything.

“thanks.”

you shake your head. “don’t even worry about it. it’s only tradition.”

silence settles between you two. as you eat away on your share of the twin bar, you look up to the sky. from where you sit, you can’t see a single star; the lights of seoul seemed to outshine them. and during those moments, you almost can’t help but miss the view of the starry night from your childhood room.

you glance at hanbin who looks up to the sky as well. yet, one hand remains in his pocket, almost as if he’s fiddling with something.

as if he feels your eyes on him, he asks, “did you ever think about coming back?”

you halt your movements. if there’s one thing you were expecting your old friend to ask, it would be related to your sudden departure. but you’re hit with an entirely different question, one you didn’t get to rehearse the answer to in case you ever cross paths with him.

because after all this talk about your yearning for cheonan, why didn’t you choose to visit? despite how much you long mr. kim’s home cooked meals, skies filled with stars, or the presence of your best friend, why didn’t you ever come back?

if you miss home, why is your first instinct to run away from it?

and the reality is that you do think about it all the time. since you left cheonan, you drafted out how many plans to go back. you were homesick, missing the familiar landscape you spent your entire childhood growing up in. but most of all, you missed hanbin. as long as you had him, you would survive anywhere, whether in seoul or cheonan.

despite how much you yearned for him during your years away, you learned that your relationship wasn’t always filled with the warmth that would grace you two every afternoon. for so long, you’ve sat with jealousy. while his family was his pillar of strength, you were met with a home that offered nothing but criticism.

the black limbs slowly ate away at your heart; the void was born.

it became easier to remain resentful. with the distance, you weren’t faced with hanbin’s genuineness. yet, with time, you discovered that you still cared for him—regardless of your jealousy—because you still wanted more for him than you did for yourself.

for a long time, you resented. now, it’s only guilt that held you back from going back to him.

so when you remain silent, hanbin takes it as your answer.

and for the first time, the distance feels greater since you first left cheonan.

summer of 2017

it’s the peak of summer. amidst the expanse of verdant fields, bees seek solace in the fully-bloomed sunflowers and kaleidoscope wings illuminate as they soar.

but summer is where mouths go dry and clothes cling to skin. as days blend with each other, the comfort of your bed is all you have until the season passes.

the fan rumbles against the wooden floor, doing its best to cool you, but the heat prickles against the back of your neck. the wind has turned into nothing but hot waves. with your elbows perched on the desk, a sigh leaves you as you attempt to make sense of the worksheet filled with math equations.

your room is your favorite place in cheonan. within these four walls are scattered fragments of you, from your favorite books and mangas that rest on the bookshelf to the stuffed toys that rest on your bed. book tabs stick out of your workbooks lined up on your desk and your cork board is filled with crossed out to-do lists.

and every once in a while, you would look out through your window, admiring the neighboring houses and all their greenery. as people walk on pavements, you cannot help but think about where they’re off to—are they on their way to work? did they leave an important document back home? or are they coming back to a meal and home filled with warmth?

despite the halo soundtrack filling your ears, the cogs in your brain seem to drown them out. the numbers on your paper have jumbled up. it should’ve been easy. after all, you’ve become friends with the letters who’ve squeezed their way into math. once you’ve wrapped up on this assignment, you know you’ll wake up to another set of work to do. it didn’t help that you’re stuck watching kids your age enjoy their break.

with a tired mind, you consider making yourself another cup of iced coffee. maybe another dose of caffeine will make sense of the numbers—

your phone buzzes against your table. as your eyes rip from the unfinished worksheet, you spot the familiar name flashing on the screen. with one glance at your door, you bring your headphones to rest around your neck. it takes three rings for you to answer.

“what do you want?”

“the fuck? what’s wrong with you?”

you roll your eyes as you fiddle with your pen. “i’m studying, you fucker.”

“on a sunday?” hanbin’s question has you only groan. “what happened to resting?”

“i wish,” you murmur as you scratch the back of your head. “i’ve been stuck on this stupid worksheet for the past hours. it’s annoying too. i mean, i already know this topic, so i don’t know why it’s so hard.”

“awe, is my best friend suffering over kumon?”

your forehead rests on crossed arms. “yes. i think i’m going to die.”

“okay, then. i’ll take that as my sign.”

“sign to what?”

he chuckles as if it were obvious. “to save you! let’s go to mr. kim’s.”

a groan leaves you as your back meets the chair. “no, i can’t. do you know what would happen if i don’t finish my kumon?”

“uh… no?”

“me, neither. i’m not taking my chances.”

“but, you’re not even doing anything!” hanbin pointing out the obvious has you rolling your eyes. “wouldn’t it be better to take a break with your best friend? i can even help out.”

as you bite the inside of your cheek, you glance once more at your closed door. you weigh it out; would you rather take a break with your best friend or would you save yourself from the consequences brought by home?

but the answer was already clear. “give me 10 minutes.”

hanbin laughs before you drop the call.

it’s the smell of fresh hotteok that greets you. the quiet buzzing of the fan accompanied by mr. kim’s favorite trot music fills your ears. while the owner seems to be away from the cashier, a white, stray cat takes over, body flopped on the counter as it snores away the heat. as the sun pours through windows, coating every corner of the mart with a glow of fireflies, you know this will be a place of its own.

“y/n, over here!” a familiar voice calls out. as you whip your head to the source, you see your best friend by the chest freezer, eyes crinkled and all dimples.

now, you’re certain that nothing could ever replicate this.

you walk towards hanbin, finding your spot beside him as you two look through the collection of frozen treats. “so, what do you want from here?” you ask.

“uh… i’ll be honest, i just realized i’m short on money.”

you glance through the price tags, only for a groan to leave you. “i’m short too. when did mr. kim raise the prices?”

“no clue. i thought i’d have enough to get a summer crush,” hanbin complains as his eyes are glued to the coffee sorbet. “i hate inflation.”

“come on.” you fish out for the coins in your pocket. “let’s see how much we have together.” hanbin does the same. with palms out, you two count through your shared funds.

“we can get a summer crush!”

“you can get one. i’ll be left with barely anything.” you look through the selection once more. “man, i really want samanco. the red bean sounds so good right now.”

defeat casts over hanbin’s features. for a moment, you almost consider giving up on having a frozen treat and settling for a glass bottle of orange soda, until you spot a familiar popsicle brand.

“holy shit, it’s right there.”

“what?”

“there!” your finger points at the stack of twin bars. “we can probably get that and split it.”

hanbin’s expression morphs into realization. “okay, let’s get—”

“dibs on grape.”

“dibs?” he furrows his eyebrows at you. “you can’t just call dibs. you’re doing it wrong. clearly, we should discuss—”

“nope,” you retort. a chuckle laced with disbelief leaves your best friend. to him, it seemed like you were joking around. “i made the suggestion and contributed a lot more to our shared funds.”

“okay, but—”

“don’t tell me you want the peach flavor more than the grape.” as you continue to shut him down, he knows there’s no way around you.

(plus, he wasn’t a fan of peach-flavored things, anyway. how unfortunate that mr. kim only has those two flavors right now.)

“next time, we’re choosing a flavor that i want,” he gives in. you let out a cheer before grabbing the frozen treat.

you two make your way back to the cashier and spot mr. kim slouched in front of the television, hand stroking the sleepy feline. he’s still wearing an old, red plaid apron on top of a pair of basketball shorts and a loose graphic tee which had the name of a band you’re unfamiliar with. with how he sits, you’re afraid that his back problems will get even worse. (still, you don’t say anything. he’ll only play it off and say he’s still one of the “youngins”... whatever that means.)

once his eyes land on you two, a grin takes over. “ah, my favorite kids! it’s nice to see you both.”

“yeah, it’s been a while,” hanbin starts off. “y/n’s always busy with kumon.”

you narrow your eyes at the boy. “hey! you’re busy, too! you’ve been practicing at the studio almost every day!” the wrapped popsicle now rests on the counter. “every time i’m free, you’re not.”

“hey! whenever you’re free, i’m tired from training!”

“okay, let’s settle down,” mr. kim breaks up the banter. he then takes note of the ice cream on the cashier, the price showing up on the cashier. “isn’t the heat hard enough for you two to be studying or practicing?”

“yes, very much.” you count the coins once more before dropping the exact amount on the counter. “but,” you glance at hanbin and his disheartened expression is enough for mountains to move, “i don’t think we have a choice.”

in reality, these were the circumstances you two had to work and live with. during the days hanbin ended practice early, you were drowning in summer school assessments. whenever you managed to finish your homework, it would be during the hours your best friend was off at the studio or passed out at home from exhaustion.

“choice, no choice, people always say that.” mr. kim counts your payment before putting it into the cashier. as he takes note of what you’ve bought, he says, “everyone has a choice. i’m sure you two can figure it out.”

the only difference is that one chose this path; the other had to suffer from the decision forced onto them.

“don’t worry, mr. kim,” hanbin nudges your shoulder. “i’m sure we’ll figure it out.” and when his whiskers appear, you find yourself smiling back.

maybe you were okay with the life you had to live, just maybe.

“anyway, we’ll go ahead,” hanbin bids farewell to mr. kim.

you giggle. “he means we’re just going to eat our ice cream at the front.”

as you two slowly make your way out of the mart, mr. kim shakes his head. “you lovebirds go ahead. i’ll see you next time!”

“mr. kim!” you and hanbin shout in unison before glancing at each other.

“what?!”

your best friend groans. “you know we aren’t together.”

“yeah! like, i can’t imagine it,” you join in.

still, the owner laughs at your reactions. “you two are so funny. just go and enjoy your ice cream.”

you roll your eyes at his words. “bye, mr. kim!”

with that, you and hanbin were out of the mart and took a seat on the benches. you hand your best friend the wrapped frozen treat before letting out a sigh. “i still can’t believe this is one of the few times we got to meet up during the break.”

“i know.” he tears the plastic wrapping off. “you would think that summer break would mean we get to hang out nonstop, but i’m starting to think we saw each other more whenever we had school.”

you hum. “i know. and i had ap stat while you had training.” your eyes dart at hanbin who grips onto the popsicle sticks, struggling to split it into two. “oh my god, don’t tell me you can’t split it.”

“hey! it’s hard.”

as you giggle, you reach your hand out. “let me do it.” once hanbin hands you the twin bar, you attempt to split the two. for a moment, you almost think about agreeing with him. yet, the frozen treat splits into two perfectly, and a satisfied smile rests on your lips.

you hand him one popsicle, only to be met with his glare. “i know, i’m just better.”

“just shut up.” to that, another laugh leaves you.

under the sun, you enjoy the coolness of the twin bar. while you would’ve stared off to nowhere, you and hanbin were here at the right time to catch civilians bustling away. some were on dates, where one would go on about their interest while the other would smile at their rambling. there were kids whose chatter could be heard all the way from the end of the block, and blue-collar men who were off to enjoy their break.

you can’t help but imagine what people saw—thought—of you and hanbin. did they think of you as unexpected friends? has it ever crossed their minds that you two were only classmates who seemed to always be paired together? or did they ever think the same as mr. kim?

“you know,” hanbin starts off, causing you to look at him, “i was going through college courses the other day.”

your eyebrows shoot up. “oh?”

with your reaction, hanbin giggles. “i was just curious, you know? not that i’m giving up on dance or anything, but,” he licks the popsicle, “early childhood education sounds cool.”

you hum. “i wasn’t expecting that.”

“what’s that supposed to mean?”

“no, it’s not a bad thing!” you reassure the boy. “it’s just,” you rip your gaze off of hanbin and look at the playground, “i always thought of you as a dancer, you know? kind of like you were meant for the stage.” the laughter of the kids who passed by you two bounces all over the block and you can’t help but smile. “but i don’t doubt it.”

the breeze graces your sweat-covered skin. “what about you?” you look back at him. “would you ever consider journalism? maybe communication as your major?”

you’re quick to laugh at his suggestion, but when confusion paints his features, you realize it’s a serious question from him.

“no.” it’s a straightforward answer from you, but hanbin could never settle with that

“why not?”

a sigh leaves you. “i just don’t consider it. i mean, i think about it,” all the time, “but not enough to consider it. plus, astrophysics is cool.”

“but is it your dream?”

hanbin’s question is an easy one to answer—not at all. you’ve had enough learning about theories and making sense of the numbers. if your future is going to only complicate that further, then maybe astrophysics isn’t made for you.

but who’s to say that you’ll even enjoy journalism?

“we’ll see.” you leave it at that and hanbin didn’t push for more.

because the reality is that if you ever did consider it, transform those dreams into action plans, you were terrified to be met with your parents’ disappointment—it wouldn’t only be from your lousy desires but from hanbin’s role in your life.

the first time you mentioned hanbin to your parents happened over dinner, letting them know you would be staying later at school to work on the final project for art class with him. they didn’t bat an eye at his name as they continued to talk about what happened during work and pester you about your progress in other classes. (art class didn’t matter to them, only the sciences and math were ones they seemed to track. still, they would criticize you if you didn’t place first honors.)

with your parents’ oversight, something blossomed between you and hanbin . from there, there were more days you would get home later than usual. while you were still on top of your work, they took your late arrivals as a form of negligence.

all it took was one night for them to demand an explanation. the reappearance of him in the conversation had only caused them to reprimand you—hanbin’s not like you. he’ll only hold you back.

from that day on, you’ve learned to keep his name out of conversations. you’ll enjoy what you have with hanbin, even if it has to be kept under the wraps.

“how’s training?” you change the subject, trying to keep the attention off of your failed dreams to hanbin’s flourishing ones.

“well, it’s a lot,” he chuckles as he munches a piece. “you already know that it takes how many hours to get to the company, and the hours i spend in the practice room are unlike the trainings i have at school.”

as his eyes meet yours, you only shoot him an apologetic smile. it was never going to be easy; you two knew that before hanbin entered the doors of the company. yet, he still held on.

“you know, i never considered it before, but i like where i’m going,” he admits. “even if i’ve always had dreams to pursue dance, i want to make my family proud if i ever get to debut.”

hanbin knows how to persevere. regardless of all the bruises he gets from performing complex dance routines or the hours of sleep he longs for, he knows how to hold on. you wish you could say the same for yourself.

“and you will,” you reassure the boy, wrapping your arm around his shoulders. “who wouldn’t be proud of you?”

he holds your stare and your smile falters. for a moment, you don’t know if you touched on a sensitive topic. would he shrug your arm off? do you think he’ll shut you off, maybe cut your time together short? will hanbin get mad at you for something you didn’t know was wrong? would he be just like them?

“i want to make you proud.”

that’s enough to answer it all.

you shake your head. “don’t even doubt that for a second.” your arm finds it spot back to your side, and hanbin’s loops his with yours.

although he knows how to persevere, he never knows when to shut his ears from the shadows.

“i am proud of you,” you tell him. “always have, always will.” he can’t help but smile. all you can hope is that he’ll listen closely to your voice.

“i almost forgot,” he says out of nowhere.

“forgot what?”

as he tugs his arm away, his hand fishes for something in his pocket. “close your eyes.” you furrow your eyebrows. “just do it!” you follow his orders. “and keep them closed, okay?” you let out a hum.

before you know it, something wraps around your index finger. you would’ve opened your eyes, confused over the foreign yet familiar material, but they remain shut.

“okay, open.”

your gaze rests on your finger wrapped in yellow and blue. it’s a finger trap—and the other end is connected to hanbin. despite your tug, it still holds you two together.

it’s the warmth that fills your cheeks, the heartbeat in your ears, and your starstruck eyes that has him smile. “no matter what happens, we’ll stick together, okay? regardless of what paths we end up pursuing. all that matters is that we have each other.”

he’s filled with hope. hope for his dreams. hope for your relationship. hope for what the future holds for you two. you can’t help but hope as well.

all it takes is a nod from you to solidify the promise to the universe.

you two sit in silence, finishing up the popsicles as people continue to pass by. at one point, you heard mr. kim let out a curse over the drama he’s watching. the sun is about to set, wrapping you two in a golden blanket, and all that matters is the finger trap.

present -> two weeks before the interview, 2024

it’s no surprise to you that the newsroom is quiet. while your peers are off to gather more information, you’re with lee chaeyeon of news as she tries to meet the deadline for her article’s first close.

“do you think dokyeom will be late?” you ask as you watch her rephrase sentences.

she laughs. “when is he never? minho’s always assigning him coverages.”

“that’s true.” your eyes drift to the hallway. “i’m just hungry. he still owes me food, you know?”

“over another bet? or you saving his ass?”

“over helping him with an article,” you reveal, earning a shocked look from her. “for some odd reason, he needed another writer to help out with a live coverage, and all the sports writers and sports editor were busy handling the other events.”

“holy shit.” chaeyeon continues with her work. “i didn’t expect you to work on anything sports-related.”

“yeah, but it helped that it was a dance competition. at least i know something about dance.” you only know who to thank. “i’m going to make sure i get compensated for that. i’m planning to raise it to minho and namjoon, anyway. that’s if dokyeom would fucking come and help in explaining the situation.”

with the mention of the tardy writer’s name, he’s scrambling through the halls with his backpack in one hand and a paper bag in the other. the moment he sees you, he shoots you an apologetic smile.

“speak of the devil,” you say as you stand up straight. “why do you always show up late? i helped you with the article.”

dokyeom finds his spot beside you as he sets down the bag on your desk. “i’ll have you know that wasn’t the only article i had yesterday. i was catching up on other ones that minho assigned me.” before he can plop down on his seat, he spots chaeyeon working. “damn, tough life at news.”

“no need to point out the obvious, doofus.”

“wow, harsh,” he replies to her insult. “just so you know, i bought food for us.”

“thank god,” you exclaim as you open the paper bag filled with takeout containers and sealed cups. as you pull them out one by one, you spot your usual order from the vietnamese restaurant around the corner. “oh my god, thank you for getting me this.” you take a seat before you pass dokyeom his food and utensils.

“yeah, i know. i’m just the best.” his shower of compliments for himself only has you rolling your eyes. “but thank you, by the way, for helping me out with the article. i needed an extra pair of hands and my own editor couldn’t stand in to help out.”

“it’s fine. just make sure you help me get compensated for that article,” you say before you open the container. as the smell of bun bo nam bo fills your nose, you can’t help but let out a quiet moan. “holy fuck, i’ve been craving this.”

“i made sure to get you some vietnamese coffee also.”

“yeah, i saw. thank you.” you split the chopsticks with one hand. you’re about to mix the bowl of your favorite food—

“is y/n here?” your editor calls out, causing you to let out a sigh before you stand up from your seat.

“yes?”

namjoon’s gaze lands on you. “can i talk to you for a bit?”

despite your grumbling stomach, you give him a nod and set your food down. as he retreats to his office, you glare at dokyeom who munches away on goi cuon. “i hate you.”

“hey, what did i do?!” you ignore his attempts to defend himself as you make your way to your editor’s office.

once you swing the door open, you spot namjoon whose eyes are stuck to the screen. “you can take a seat,” he says with no attempt to look at you. you sit across from him, hands folded on your lap, while he types away on his keyboard.

the moment he hits the ‘enter’ key is when he finally looks at you. “sorry about that. i was just replying to minho regarding your compensation for the article you worked with dokyeom. we both appreciate what you did. next time though, make sure to loop in minho or me before you two start working on beats not within your staffs.”

“sorry about that,” you start off. “dokyeom only asked for my help and i thought it would be fine since i’m familiar with dance, anyway.”

namjoon shakes his head with a small smile plastered on his face. “it is fine, just make sure to inform us.” you only nod.

“anyway, i’m sorry to have this meeting with you right now but i have to leave work early today, and i thought that you’d appreciate that i tell this to you now instead of tomorrow,” he says. you hum, curious about what he has to say. “i have a coverage for you, a very, very, long one.”

over the sight of your wide eyes, he can’t help but chuckle. “it’s 10 articles,” he says and your mouth gapes over the number. “well, one main article and nine profiles with very brief introductory paragraphs.” his attempt to ease your shocked state does nothing.

“namjoon, that’s… a lot.”

“yes, i know. i would love to split the workload but everyone else is handling other articles, and i trust you. i know i’m asking for a lot but i’ll make sure to help you out with them. it’s just that we’re working on a time crunch and i don’t know anyone else i can ask but you.”

the faith that your editor seems to have in you is like no other.

“profiles, like, those q&a transcripts?” you ask.

he nods before saying, “yes, and just a brief introductory paragraph for each profile. i’m just expecting you to put more work into the article about the group. i’ll make sure to help out with the profiles.”

namjoon’s trust should be anxiety inducing, enough to send you complaining, but you find yourself relieved. your mentor became your second-in-command; the mountain of workload transformed into a hill.

“okay.”

a relaxed smile appears on his face at your acceptance. “thank god! i was going to stress about this the whole day if you refused. i’ll make sure to send you the details about this once i’m done with my appointments, and then we can see how we’ll divide the work later on.” he types something. “we’re covering a k-pop group which is why there’s one main article about the whole group and then nine profiles.”

“yeah, i figured that out.” this isn’t anything out of your usual articles. “can i ask who we’re interviewing? maybe i can do some research on them while you attend your meetings.” you pull out your phone, ready to search up whoever your editor says.

“ah, i’m sure you’ll be familiar with them. it’s zerobaseone.” you still in your seat. “you know, the group formed from boys planet.”

“zerobaseone?”

namjoon looks at you, now met with your features that have transformed from wide eyes to scrunched eyebrows. “yeah. do you know them?”

you shake your head without a second thought. “no, i don’t think i do,” you whisper the last sentence to yourself. his narrow eyes look over you, almost dissecting you.

the walls surrounding you are painted in solid colors of pearl, almost untouched. yet, under the paint are cracks that spread like cobwebs. every burst is a testament to the earthquakes they’ve faced; no one should be able to see a single line of black amid the white sea. now, they’re filled with paste, and it should be enough to cover them all.

but for the first time, the paint has chipped and the paste has deteriorated; the different colors of cheonan seep through the cracks.

you clear your throat as you straighten your back. “i’ll be sure to research them.” you wave your phone at him, hoping to divert his attention, but his gaze remains on you.

a sigh leaves him. “okay. expect to receive the documents later in the afternoon.”

he doesn’t push any further. for now, the walls remain intact. (or appear as so.)

it was never going to be easy.

“honestly, i was losing hope as we practiced,” the youngest says through tears. as they huddle, they let out silent wishes for the upcoming years. before they blow the candle, they don’t forget to express their gratitude to the fandom who stuck with them through thick and thin.

a time of celebration turned into a moment to remember their struggles. these were pockets of their time that marked their spot in history.

“oh, everyone behind us is crying!” another member points out as the camera captures the team’s bittersweet cries.

and when you catch sight of the brunette who hides his tears behind his friend, the ache in your chest starts to spread through your veins. the video cuts to his low-hanging head as his members comfort him. they knew all of his hardships—you only know a fraction.

such a tender moment happened a year ago; it’s longer than the amount of time between this achievement and your departure. within those years, what did hanbin undergo? did his trainings waver his passion or did the fire burn just as bright as it did since he first auditioned? was he confident in his skills or was he still critical about every performance he had?

but most of all, what did he face? what did he learn? to hate? to love?

what did he go through without you?

you don’t forget to take note of their first win on your document filled with bullet points of information. while you were going to continue watching, a recommended video caught your attention. it’s a hanbin focus. you don’t hesitate to click it.

the video starts off with him checking up on the fans before the performance starts. as he mimes out eating, they answer his question with reassurance.

and there they come—his dimples appear.

it transitions to their group in their opening formation. as they await for the song to play out, hanbin’s familiar smile shifts into a dominant gaze.

in the same way the first notes draw people to listen, your eyes never leave the boy. his movements are fluid, like water droplets sliding off leaves. he commands the stage regardless of where he’s positioned.

hanbin is meant to be on the stage—no, every stage is made for him. every crowd is meant to cheer his name and remain captive to his talents, and every spotlight is meant to shine on him.

you rest your chin on crossed arms. long gone was the bowl cut and loose school uniform. he’s grown. matured, even. yet, the moments where his smile appears makes you realize one thing: the 16-year-old boy you knew still lives within him.

as their performance comes to an end, you don’t bother to move your cursor, letting the next recommended video play. and when his vlog plays out, you realize that a fragment of his identity is a whole of what you know.

what an honor it is to have known him for even a fraction of your lifetime.

his voice is a lullaby, the same one you used to fall asleep to, so you allow yourself to close your eyes. you let go of the responsibilities for just this moment, and allow yourself to be transported back into the warmth of his arms.

fall of 2017

out of all the seasons, autumn took its spot in being your favorite. clusters of green slowly morph into shades of oranges and browns. it’s a symphony of chirps that fills the silence. while the breeze brings you comfort after the heat of summer, it also reminds you of the looming winter.

it’s a shame that autumn does live up to its other name: a season of fall.

“you’re always like this,” your mother comments. you stand in front of your parents, slumped shoulders and downcast eyes, as they hold a sheet of paper they believe dictates your future. “always so sensitive. we’re just asking you what went different. why did your grades drop?” to them, a shift from a to b+ is a threat to your future.

while your feet stand on wooden floors, a flood starts to form. murky waves crash against your legs, but you do your best to keep your balance.

“answer us when you’re being talked to.” your father snaps you out of your thoughts. “what have you been doing for your grades to drop?” you want to answer but a single sound that leaves you may only lead to blubbers that your parents will scold you for.

with your silence, your mother sneers. “i knew we shouldn’t have let you do your own things. i told you so.” she shifts her gaze to him. “what did i tell you about y/n? you know they’ll only slack off!”

“i thought we could trust them. clearly, i was wrong.” your father’s glare raises the water levels, reaching your chest. you don’t know how to swim in the foggy ocean.

“i know why.” she crosses her arms. “it’s because of that hanbin boy, isn’t it?” she says his name laced with disgust.

you don’t think twice to defend him. “no, it isn’t!”

“don’t you dare talk back at me!”

“but i’m not! he’s done nothing.”

your father begins to raise his voice. “and that’s what’s wrong! that lazy boy does nothing for his studies. he clearly doesn’t care about his future.”

you always knew it would be a losing battle, but you’ll put up the fight to protect your best friend’s name. “that’s not true! he does care. he’s planning to do early childhood education for college, maybe become a teacher.”

“that job has no money. see, i can already see that you’re being influenced by him,” he argues back.

and as the murky waters rise, filling your lungs, your first instinct is to close your eyes and scream. “stop saying that about him!”

a beat passes.

“i don’t want you hanging out with him.”

“but—”

“shut up.” your mother’s words cause you to look up, meeting your parents’ faces filled with anger. “go to your room. now.” you’re nothing but a puppet for them.

was it even a battle if you always knew you were going to lose?

despite the safety of your room, you don’t let the tears flow down. you do anything to distract yourself; maybe a book will convince you that your life is only a figment of your imagination.

waves continue to crash against your body. if you let them take your body, would they send you far away from cheonan? from your parents? from the weight you were entrusted to carry since birth?

but would you allow the waves to send you away from hanbin?

your phone buzzes against the mattress. with tear-filled eyes, you see your best friend trying to reach you. you don’t think twice about declining his call and shutting off your phone.

as you curl in your bed, you hope the sea will swallow you whole—the slow, burning pain that comes with drowning won’t compare to the burns that haven’t healed. but you know that the blame rests on your shoulders. if only you had studied harder, cut off hours of rest for your work, then maybe you would be the perfect child your parents wanted.

were you wrong for allowing yourself to enjoy the small breaks between classes? was the time spent in the mart supposed to be for schoolwork? should you have found yourself a tutor? were you in the wrong for not working yourself to the bone? did you not work enough?

are you not enough?

then, a knock. your eyes snap open. like a stroke of light in the middle of the dark, hanbin is by your window.

you get off your bed to open the window. as the glass barrier disappears, he enters your room. “are you okay?” he spots your glassy eyes and his hands find their spot on your shoulders. “what happened?”

you break eye contact. “what do you want, hanbin?”

“you didn’t pick up your phone. and when i tried calling again, i couldn’t reach you,” he starts to explain.

you shrug off his grip on you before you take a seat on your bed. “i’m fine. my phone died.” as you feel the spot beside you dip, you look at your best friend. at the sight of his furrowed eyebrows, you know he doesn’t believe you. “i said i’m fine.”

“i didn’t say anything.” for you are an open book to him.

he opens his arms towards you—it’s your move to make. then, a tight-lipped smile shows on his face, his whiskers appear, and you allow yourself to fall. with his arms wrapped around you, you shut your eyes as you nestle your face into his neck.

breathe in. breathe out.

his hand finds its spot on your back, rubbing it in circles.

breathe in. breathe out.

“it’s okay, i’m here,” he says, and you allow yourself to crumble in front of him for the first time.

the tears hit hanbin’s neck like a light drizzle. your wails bring earthquakes into his world.

yet, his warmth is enough to dry up droplets, and his embrace protects you as you fall into the cracks of the earth and into the depths of the world. the flood starts to subside.

in your time knowing hanbin, how much did he know about you after all? had he always known of your strained relationship with your parents? did he hear about it from others or was he able to connect the dots?

because you didn’t know yourself outside of your parents anymore. did you like science because of your kumon classes? was your interest in writing birthed from a desire for validation from your parents?

are you nothing but an array of achievements and failures?

but your parents will never be satisfied; a standard too high is practically nonexistent.

hanbin moves so that you two can lie down. his arms remain wrapped around you as you hide in his neck. “i’m sorry if i wasn’t there for you when you needed it then.” his whispered apology causes you to shake your head.

“you didn’t do anything wrong,” you blubber out to his neck.

“and you didn’t, as well.” his hand finds its spot behind your head. with every stroke, a tear streams down. “and i want you to know that i’ll be here for you.”

in your house, your room was the only space you called home. solace built by you.

now, your home is hanbin.

present -> two weeks before the interview, 2024

something about the newsroom feels odd to you. there’s nothing out of the ordinary aside from it bustling with journalists. the familiar sounds of printers and chatter from your workmates fill your ears. it’s a typical occurrence for your peers to meet their deadlines on the day itself. the tug in your gut doesn’t resemble ones formed out of your anxiety. why does it feel like one of destiny?

“where is dokyeom? i swear, this guy never shows up to the office.”

you snap out of your thoughts, looking over at chaeyeon who browses through her phone. as you shove a bill into the vending machine, a chuckle leaves you. “when is he never?”

“maybe if he finishes his coverages on time then he’d be getting enough sleep. then, he won’t be late.”

you side-eye your friend before you click on a button. “you know that’s not true.”

she sighs at the same time your bottle of iced tea drops. “yeah. apparently, if you have free time, you’re not a good journalist or some shit which i find stupid.” you grab your drink before facing her. “am i not allowed to do something else that’s not related to my job? i swear, this is why i’m single.”

“then date another journalist.” your joke earns a scowl from her.

“i’m never dating anyone in my field. a journalist dating another journalist is like,” she looks up to the ceiling as she thinks, “a long distance relationship with how much they’ll never see or have time for each other.”

a laugh erupts from you, one that may be too loud for your liking. “true.”

as you walk out of the breakroom with chaeyeon, you notice something in the corner of your eye: a brunette by the restroom. while you can’t see his face, you spot what’s in his hand and you halt in your tracks—a finger trap.

“hey, is there someone there?” your eyes snap back to your friend who looks at you in confusion. when your eyes drift back to where the brunette once was, he’s already gone. you shake your head before walking back to your desk.

the same gut feeling lingers. with a frown, you open up your article only to be met with a few comments that namjoon left last night. maybe your gut knew that you weren’t done with your work. thankfully, it’s nothing too major, and you can have them done within the next few minutes.

“there you are!” chaeyeon exclaims, causing you to look up from your screen to a panting dokyeom. “were you working on your articles again?”

“actually, i went out last night.” while you shake your head at dokyeom’s reveal, chaeyeon gasps. “yeah, i did! i actually had fun for once!”

as he nods proudly at last night’s events, she complains, “are you serious?! how come you have time to go out? i was just talking to y/n that we never have time to ourselves.”

“i’m in sports,” he points out as he shrugs his shoulders. “you’re in news.” at this point, you’re expecting the two to spiral into an argument, so you redirect your focus back to your article.

“hey, did you hear though? there’s a k-pop group in the building.” you glance at chaeyeon.

your other friend leans on the cubicle. “really? who?”

“no clue.”

dokyeom lets out a groan. “what type of journalist are you if you can’t find out?”

“yah!” chaeyeon smacks his arm, causing him to wince in pain. “says you who can never submit on time.”

“hey, i’ll have you know that minho has been understanding!”

“whatever.” she rolls her eyes before looking at you. “that means you’ll probably be handling them. i hope they’re cute so that you can finally have something going on with your life outside of work.”

a chuckle leaves you as you get back to work. “i’m never dating an idol. i’d get hunted down by their fans.”

“yeah, but can’t you dream a little? do you ever imagine what it would be like?”

the past plays in your mind. after school performances and interviews. broken-up popsicles. finger traps. a life you shared with hanbin then—one you still cling onto.

yet, you shake your head as you edit your article. “not even.”

it’s a life you’ll keep to yourself.

“what’s the update?”

the three of you look away from each other, spotting namjoon who comes to you with a smile. long gone were the sweaters that failed to drown out his figure and the boxy glasses that would rest on the bridge of his nose. now, he wears a dress shirt and trousers with hair slicked to the side. there were no frames for him to hide behind.

“ah, namjoon! you’re dressed so nice today.”

with dokyeom’s compliment, he can’t hold back on his smile. “thank you. are you guys done with your articles?”

as your friends nod, you add the finishing touches to the document. “and done! i just finished addressing your comments.”

“great. thanks, y/n.”

“do you have something?” chaeyeon asks your editor, causing you to roll your eyes. one thing about journalists is that they love to know everything.

namjoon nods before saying, “i just had a meeting with some possible interviewees.”

“is this the one with the k-pop group?” as dokyeom asks the question, you can’t help but laugh as chaeyeon looks at him in disbelief for spilling confidential information.

your editor chuckles. “yes.”

“can we know—”

“no, you can’t know.”

chaeyeon pouts at namjoon. “not even a hint?”

namjoon ignores her question and begins to walk off. “good work, y/n!” he calls out before leaving you three alone.

“man, namjoon never tells us shit,” chaeyeon complains as she leans on the table.

“to you guys, at least,” you argue with a small shrug.

still, the gut feeling remains.

something about the newsroom feels odd to hanbin. while he’s had his fair share of paranormal experiences, his gut tells him that there’s something in the office. yet, the tug isn’t one that speaks of danger. why does it feel like one of destiny?

“should we have a short break before we discuss the schedules for the photoshoots and interviews?” hanbin is snapped out of his thoughts by namjoon’s suggestion.

his manager looks at the group. “do you guys need a break?”

although everyone seemed fine with proceeding, he couldn’t shake off the feeling. maybe the leftover curry he had this morning went bad. “i’ll go,” he says as he gets off his seat.

namjoon slowly stands up. “okay, i can bring you there—”

“it’s okay! i saw the washroom on the way here,” hanbin says before walking to the door. “you can discuss the details without me first.”

with his manager’s nods, namjoon settles back into his seat. “okay then, here are some of the dates i have in mind...”

hanbin exits the room. he bites on the inside of the cheek as he thinks of what his gut could be telling him. is it the nerves for the upcoming tour? is he worried about the next comeback they’ve been preparing? or is he scared about what the future has in store for his group?

with his mind on these questions, he doesn’t realize that he arrives in front of the bathroom door. a sigh of frustration leaves him. the worst thing about gut feelings is never knowing what they’re trying to say.

he grips the handle, ready to swing the door open, until a familiar laugh hits his ears. one of the past. one he hasn’t heard in years. his muscles freeze.

when was the last time he heard that chortle? when was the last time he became the cause of it?

his eyes dart around the area for the source but no one else is here. he can’t help but shake his head in disbelief.

it should be stupid for him to think you two would ever reunite. in what world would you be in the same place as he is? it’s been 7 years. you could be anywhere around the world. yet, he fishes for something out of his pocket; the same finger trap he linked you to him rests on the palm of his hand.

he sighs before entering the washroom and shoving it back into his pocket.

maybe he’ll hold out a little longer.

winter of 2017

out of all the seasons, hanbin’s favorite is winter. snowflakes fall, filling the sky with stars that people can touch, and snow piles on sidewalks, letting him throw snowballs at his friends. despite the freezing temperatures, hanbin prefers this over nearly-boiling ones.

he can’t wait to share this season with you.

yet, the familiar, chilly breeze of the season transforms into whispers, and word gets around like thrown snowballs.

“is y/n really not going to school anymore?” hanbin looks up from his desk to see soojin standing in front of him. he tilts his head in confusion, causing her to roll her eyes. “are they not going here anymore?”

he frowns. “huh? what kind of rumor is that?”

“i don’t know. it’s what people have been saying,” she says as she crosses her arms. “i asked because i wanted to know if my competition’s gone, you know? and you’re the only one here who has an idea about their whereabouts.”

hanbin laughs in disbelief. “no, i was with them last week.”

when hanbin last saw you, you asked for space. with what’s been happening with your family, you needed time to process and cope with your issues, and he respected that. after all, he only knew a fraction of your relationship with your parents, and he didn’t want to intrude in anything you didn’t want him to be a part of. still, hanbin reminded you that he’ll be there if you need him.

“damn, that sucks,” soojin groans as her shoulders slump. “these stupid rumors.” as soon as she leaves hanbin alone, he shakes his head.

the bell rings. students start rushing into classrooms and teachers scold those who aren’t on their seats. ms. jeon enters the room, walking to the desk in front and setting her things down. “lee soojin, you’ll be in charge of attendance today.”

as hanbin’s classmate gets off her seat, he can’t help but look at your desk that still remains empty.

“you have to message us when you land,” your mother says as she fixes the collar of your coat. despite your nod, she clicks her tongue. “answer me properly.”

“yes, i will.”

once your father finishes placing the last luggage in the trunk of the taxi, he stands beside your mother. “don’t forget why we’re sending you there. we expect you to do better with no distractions.”

your phone buzzes in your hand. as you look down, you see a message from hanbin. as he asks about your whereabouts, the weight gets heavier—will you stand or crumble under it?

“who’s that?”

you stash your phone away as you look back at your parents. “nothing. it’s just an email from the school. they sent over the date for the orientation.” at the sight of their satisfied smile, you let out a small sigh of relief.

“well, go on.” your nod at your mother before getting in the car. with the windows still down, she adds, “don’t forget to get endorsement letters from the professors i sent over to you or else you won’t get to study abroad like we planned.” her choice of pronouns is funny; a plan that they crafted which never considered your input.

“okay.”

as your father commands the driver to go, your gaze remains on the two. it should be okay with you to leave cheonan; you’d be far away from your parents and experience an entirely different landscape to explore. it’s time you break away from the chains of this town. learn a life outside of what your parents forced you into.

yet, as the car takes its leave, the figure of your parents slowly shrinks. the distance from them should’ve given you the space to breathe, a relief you’ve longed for, but it only reminds you of your strained relationship. to them, it would be better that you’re out of their sight—and with your farewell, you never heard the three-word phrase.

the window rolls up. you try to hold back the tears, but the scenery of cheonan that you pass by births a storm within you. you didn’t want to say goodbye to home, regardless of how much you say you didn’t have a home in this town. every corner holds a piece of you in the same way you hold a piece of them.

the car approaches a safe haven you share. despite the snow that piles at the front, mr. kim’s convenience store is still open. you’ll never get to have his hotteok again or hear his favorite dramas play in the background. worst of all, you never got to say goodbye.

then, the familiar figure of your best friend exits the mart, and the storm transforms into a typhoon. the plastic bag he holds is filled with your favorite snacks, from the grape-flavored twin bar to a bottle of mr. kim’s homemade peach iced tea.

and in that moment that your car passes him, he pulls out his phone from his pocket, and you spot the familiar trap wrapped around his finger—the other end holds no one.

as quickly as you came into hanbin’s life, he disappears from your view.

finger traps were fascinating. if you tug hard, the contraption won’t let your fingers go. yet, if you allow the two fingers to meet, allowing the toy to loosen, it’ll let you go with no harm.

but your finger trap with hanbin was different. maybe it was already ripped to its seams.

interview

q: what made you decide on becoming an idol?

a: i’ve always loved dancing. growing up in cheonan, i always made time [for dance] whether it be [for] school competitions, talent shows, or even [choreographies] i wanted to try out. but i never considered becoming [an idol] until high school. a lot of my friends and family thought i was capable, and i’m glad they trusted me. it feels good to give back to them with every performance.

q: compared to your other members, you’ve spent a lot of years dancing and training to become an idol. what kept you going throughout your years of training?

a: my family’s support was one big thing that helped me [during my training.] every trip from my house to the company would last hours, and it drained me physically. so as the years went by, i started to question if all the time, money, [and] effort i was putting into an unpromised debut would be worth it, but my parents and sisters were always there to support and [take] care of me. but i’d also like to think my best friend was a major support in training years. i think they were the first one to [tell me that they saw me as an idol,] and at the time i brushed off the idea. but, look where i am now? so i think i owe a lot to them.

q: is there anything you’d like to say to those who’ve supported you as zerobaseone’s hanbin?

a: mom and dad, thank you for believing in me. i know it wasn’t easy to wait until midnight for me to come home or take care of me whenever i got sick from training. thank you for always supporting me in every performance. to my sister, thank you for helping mom and dad out at home. every day, i remind myself that you gave up so much just so i can pursue my dreams, and i want you know that i’m forever grateful for your sacrifices. to the rest of [zerobaseone], thank you for always allowing me to rely on you. i’m glad i can say i have brothers who i get to achieve my dreams with. zerose, thank you for your love and support over the years. i wouldn’t be zerobaseone’s leader or sung hanbin if it weren’t for you. and lastly, thank you to my best friend. i hope you’ll always be proud of me the same way i’ll forever be proud of you.

tag list: @kflixnet @blankjournal @somber-reads

#works of moni #kflixnet #bjnet #k-labels #zerobaseone #zb1 #zb1 x reader #zb1 imagines #zb1 angst #zb1 fluff #sung hanbin #sung hanbin fluff #sung hanbin angst #sung hanbin x reader #sung hanbin imagines

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randxmthxughts · 1 year

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Unrequited - Chapter 1 - Tsu'tey x Omatikaya!Reader

prologue (technically you can skip it, but i recommend checking it out for the backstory)

summary: y/n had been in love with tsu'tey since they were kids, watching him get his heart broken over and over, until he became hardened. on one particular night, she offers him intimacy with no expectations in return, which sparks up a complex relationship between them. they grapple with guilt, unrequited love, and newfound intimacy, as y/n and tsu'tey navigate the depths of their feelings for each other

wc: 5.1k

contains: one-sided love, angst, smut, friends with benefits (ig), smut in this chapter!

note: the events take place in correspondence to the first movie, right after the final battle with the sky people

a/n: you guys asked for continuation, so i decided to turn it into series. i don't know how many chapters i'm planning to write but i do have a structure that i'll be following, so we'll figure it out together, as we go. i really hope you enjoy it. nothing else to say, just thank you if you reblog or comment ♡

unrequited masterlist | general masterlist

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

The aftermath of the war between the Na'vi and the RDA was a somber and devastating sight to look at. The once peaceful and serene landscape of your home was now just as scarred and disturbed as your own mind. When you looked at the scorched earth underneath, and the sorrowful faces around you, your thoughts involuntarily raced back to Tsu’tey. Guilt consumed you for allowing yourself to care about him at a time like this, for recalling the night you had shared with him in the clearing, when you had offered him a piece of you, expecting nothing in return. And yet, despite Tsu’tey’s cautious words, deeper in your heart there was still a longing for more.

Tsu’tey made it clear that his heart would always belong solely to Silwanin, his true and only love. And as you watched him suffer through the endless loss and heartache, you came to a painful realization that there would be no place for you in his life. He had become so hardened to reality, that he no longer cared for his own happiness, the duty of protecting his people becoming the only will to live. That night, when he became aware of your feelings for him, he pitied you for choosing to love someone as damaged as he was.

Watching the clan rebuild and heal from the wounds inflicted by the war, you were convinced to follow the same route. Instead of dwelling on the aftermath, you had approached Mo’at to join the other healers, as soon as the clan returned back into the forest. For the first few days, as warriors brought back injured Na’vi, you followed Mo’at, assisting her in treating the wounded. You silently prayed to Eywa that Tsu’tey wouldn’t be among the wounded, or even worse.

It was on the fourth day that you finally saw him. When Tsu’tey stepped into the healing tent, close to midnight, his eyes widened at the sight of you. He clearly did not expect to find you there instead of Mo’at. Your gaze traveled from his face to his left arm, predicting that he had suffered a broken bone. It was wrapped tightly in big dried leaves that mimicked the shape of his muscles and fixed his elbow in a flexed position. Flat pieces of wood were pressed alongside his bones, tied with smaller strings around his skin. Another thicker string supported his arm in the air, going around his neck.

For a moment, the broken arm offered you a momentary distraction from Tsu’tey's piercing gaze, but the knots in your stomach tightened nonetheless. The tension left from that night still lingered uncomfortably between you.

“Y/N,” he cleared his throat, “Is Tsahik out?”

“She is keeping watch over Atwäm tonight, he’s gotten worse,” you answered with a heavy sigh, recalling the said warrior’s severe state. Mo'at had predicted that the end of his suffering was drawing near. “What happened to your arm?”

“Nothing, I got thrown off my ikran and landed on my arm,” Tsu’tey shrugged his shoulders dismissively, “Mo’at told me she’d change my dressing, but I’ll come back when she’s here.”

“No need, I can help,” you said softly, earning his surprised look.

“Do you know how?”

“Yes. Sit.”

Without waiting for his response, you turned your back to Tsu’tey and began carefully selecting the supplies needed for his treatment. Refreshing his cast didn't make you nervous since you had already assisted Mo'at with a similar task just the day before. Moreover, it was surprising that you were able to maintain your composure around him, even though the last time you saw him, you were almost choking on his member. That vulgar image left emptiness inside you.

Tsu’tey hesitated for a moment before slowly lowering himself to the ground, watching you move around with ease, like a fish in the water. He felt a ping of guilt for not knowing this about you, truthfully, he had no idea that you were even interested in healing, let alone that you have been helping out the other healers for the past few days.

When you returned to him with the supplies, you took a seat beside him, quietly beginning to untie the string holding up his arm. You instructed him to keep it in the same position for you, and Tsu’tey obeyed, trying his best not to move. Your hands worked with precision and care, peeling away the dry leaves, and the flat pieces of wood that you put aside to reuse. You could feel Tsu'tey’s eyes on you the entire time, sensing that he had something to say but was holding back.

“I am sorry that I haven’t spoken to you since the duel,” his voice was hoarse. You shifted uncomfortably, trying your best to concentrate on your work.

“You don’t have to apologize. There was a battle far more important.”

“Still, I can accept it if you think of me as an unreputable man because of what I did. But I do not wish for you to believe that I avoided you on purpose.”

“I don’t think either of those things about you, Tsu’tey,” you finally looked up at him, “Would you consider me an unreputable woman?”

He shook his head, validating some of the doubts in your head. If anyone found out about the intimacy you shared with another man without mating before Eywa, it could have stumped your chances of mating with anybody else. Of course, bonds were sometimes made and broken by the guidance of the Great Mother, but you did not think about it. Frankly, you weren’t sure if you could give yourself to anyone else but Tsu’tey, even if Eywa had surrounded you with signs. It was something you figured out a long time ago, ever since Tsu’tey had mated with Silwanin and you knew that you didn’t stand a chance, yet your heart still yearned for him. No amount of attention and courting you received made your heart flutter the way it did when his eyes would land on you even for a second. You had gotten used to the idea of either ending up with someone you did not love, or remaining alone and dedicating yourself to your studies.

“I feel like I betrayed you,” he shook his head, unable to express the depth of his guilt.

“Why?” you frowned in confusion.

“I promised to always protect you when we were kids. And then I took something from you, and you can’t get it back.”

A lump of shame gathered in your throat, making it harder to breathe. Did he really think you were broken now because of what happened between you two?

“I do not regret it,” you lifted your chin up, “I would rather give a part of myself to a man I love, rather than give nothing to anyone.”

Love. Tsu’tey’s heart clenched at the obvious nature of your feelings for him. He hated himself for not being able to reciprocate your love, for torturing you.

“I gathered the leaves this morning, so your bandage should last longer,” you commented, diverting the conversation.

As you applied the sticky paste, followed by a clump of leaves, you pressed them firmly onto his skin, shaping it like a protective armor. He hummed, trusting your words, as you worked in silence. When you leaned in closer to reach the tie over his neck, his breath ghosted over your skin, and your heart raced in your chest. Tsu’tey’s hand instinctively reached out to support you by your waist, and you cursed inwardly at the rush of sensation that flooded your body.

Despite the awkwardness and discomfort both of you felt, your thoughts still drifted back to the night when you heard him whimper under the touch of your lips. The way his skin shuddered, when you pressed wet kisses against it, feeling just as nervous and excited to hear his satisfied moans. With trembling hands, you quickly tied the string into a tight knot around his arm, before pulling away, desperate to put some distance between you.

“Thank you.”

“You need to come back for a new bandage, once the leaves dry out.”

“Again?” Tsu’tey frowned, clearly dissatisfied with your instructions.

“As many times as it takes until the bone heals fully.”

“I hate this,” he huffed, “It is itchy and uncomfortable. I cannot fight like this.”

“Fight? The battle is over, Tsu’tey,” you rolled your eyes at him, “Eywa must forgive you for your ungratefulness. The worst of your worries is the itch on your skin that you cannot tend to, instead of losing an arm like Tsay'ä.”

Tsu’tey’s eyes narrowed at your remark, recognizing that sassy tone you used to reserve for Neytiri during your playful arguments. You had rarely used it with him, always contained and reserved, whenever he was around. Tsu’tey realized how different you seemed now, no longer a kid who needed his protection. There used to be a time before Silwanin’s death, when he would see you almost every day, given that you were inseparable from Neytiri. He wondered how much he had missed out on in the past few years, since you weren’t hanging around them anymore. He felt a pang of guilt for not noticing you slowly drifting away from your group.

As you gathered to stand up, Tsu’tey reached for your wrist, pulling you to a stop. You peered down at him confused.

“What?”

“What are you doing tomorrow morning?” he asked with a slight excitement evident in his voice.

“Resting before Mo'at's ceremony,” you answered, frowning at his sudden interest in your plans.

The past few days had been a whirlwind for the clan. But now, as the work began to taper off, you were preparing for the grieving ceremony. The final battle with the Sky People had been devastating, and many families in the clan had lost their sons and daughters. And while their bodies had already been given to Eywa, Mo’at decided to hold a final ceremony to pray for the lost souls before the Mother Tree.

“Could you help me with something before that?” Tsu’tey asked.

“Sure,” you nodded.

Tsu'tey felt a twinge of surprise at how readily you agreed without asking for a reason. You barely needed one, your heart would follow Tsu’tey wherever he wanted it to. He released your wrist, and quietly slipped out of the tent.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

You walked past the Well of Souls, eyes catching a sight of the softly glowing Mother Tree, where the ceremony would take place later. The aftermath of the battle still lingered in the air, and you struggled to focus on Tsu’tey’s back instead. He walked in front of you, occasionally glancing back to ensure you were keeping up. As he pushed through thick bushes, you heard strange noises from the depths of the rainforest.

“What is that?” you asked, but Tsu’tey only threw a soft smile over his shoulder, like there was nothing to be scared of.

When he came to a stop, you saw it: a big, armored head peeked out from behind the tall bushes. Your heart skipped a beat, as you recognized the creature as a palulukan, piercing through you with its green eyes. You stepped back in fear, as the palulukan revealed itself, coming into your full view. Judging by the size, it was still a youngling, no older than a few days. Still, it was quite large and could easily harm both you and Tsu’tey.

“Don’t be scared, it is still a baby,” Tsu’tey said, holding up his palm. The palulukan cautiously and slowly moved towards him.

“Tsu’tey, do you have a death wish?” you gritted through your teeth, taking a few careful steps back.

“It’s alright, it won’t harm you,” he said calmly.

He remained unhinged when the palulukan nuzzled its head into his palm. You froze, watching in awe, as Tsu’tey continued petting the animal. The fearsome palulukan became gentler under his touch, tail swishing from side to side. Tsu’tey turned his face to you and chuckled at your expression.

“Come closer, Y/N.”

“Have you lost your mind?” your voice trembled with fear.

It was a rare sight to see a Na’vi man get along with a palulukan. Although you knew of a clan that was skilled at taming the creatures, amongst your own, the Omatikaya, surviving an interaction with a palulukan was considered a blessing from Eywa.

“You said you would help,” Tsu’tey reminded you, his voice firm.

He lowered his palm and turned to face you, his eyes fixed on yours. The trust he had in the cub was palpable, but your panic continued to rise, eyes jumping between him and the palulukan.

“Why do you need my help?” you swallowed hard.

“She limps,” Tsu’tey answered, nodding towards the cub.

“We shouldn’t intervene with the laws of Eywa. Where is the mother?” you asked, your voice tinged with concern.

“The mother was probably killed. The cub was all alone when I found it,” Tsu’tey explained, “I felt too ashamed to burden the other healers when they were busy helping our people. So, I tried moving her back to the valley, where she belongs, but like I said, she can’t walk far because of her paw.”

You threw another glance at the palulukan, who seemed to pay you no mind, lazily swishing its tail from side to side. Your mind calmed slightly, feeling a little sorry for the cub. You took a hesitant step forward.

“Something with the back paw. I’m not very helpful with all this,” Tsu’tey gestured to his broken arm.

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself, before approaching the animal. With a steady hand, Tsu’tey petted the cub, coaxing it into a sitting position, so that you felt less intimidated. You prayed to Eywa to keep you safe as you reached for the injured paw, finding a small piece of demon-metal lodged between its toes. You pulled it slightly, causing the palulukan let out a screech. But Tsu’tey somehow managed to calm her down.

“It can’t stay here any longer,” you threw a quick glance at Tsu’tey, pulling the metal piece as quickly and carefully as you could, “It's too close to the Mother Tree, and there is a ceremony soon.”

“Do not worry, I will lure it to the valley,” Tsu’tey replied, still patting the cub on its head.

“Not in that state, you can’t go alone,” you protested, nodding to his injured arm. “I will come with you.”

Tsu’tey let out a low growl of annoyance, partly at your stubbornness and partly at his own injury. He decided to remain silent and watched as you finally removed the metal chip. The palulukan let out another screech, wiggling its paw out of your hands and bringing it to his snout to lick the wound. Tsu’tey stepped back, observing the animal with a small smile, and you found yourself smiling at Tsu’tey.

You could never stop loving him. Even if you tried, Tsu’tey would always find a way back into your heart. Of course, only he would manage to handle a palulukan without getting eaten alive. You shook your head in disbelief of the man in front of you.

The palulukan stood up with a low growl, sniffing your feet before raising its snout toward your face. You froze, afraid that it might attack you for causing it pain, but the creature only studied you briefly with its big green eyes. You slowly extended your hand to the cub, before taking a step towards the valley. To your surprise, the cub climbed up, limping on its paw, and following you as you started to walk. Some time later, along with Tsu’tey, you led it towards the valley, letting it wander off at the outskirts.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

As the two of you began your walk back home, you felt a rush of joy spreading through you.

“I thank Eywa for letting me pet a palulukan without getting eaten alive,” you grinned at Tsu’tey.

His ears perked up at your satisfied expression but he pretended to be annoyed with you.

“I wouldn’t have let you near it if there was a chance of getting eaten.”

“But still, Tsu’tey,” you stopped in your tracks, taking his hand in yours, “Eywa has blessed you. You made a friend out of a palulukan. Not many get to say that.”

Tsu’tey looked down at your hands, feeling a ping of excitement at the contact. Since that night in the clearing, he often found himself yearning for your touch and the solace it brought him. And he despised himself for it.

Tsu’tey mumbled a thanks and squeezed your hand in his, his eyes lingering on yours for longer than necessary. Your heart raced, and something uglier began to spread in the pit of your stomach. You had been consumed by lustful thoughts of him, yet you couldn't admit it to yourself. All you craved was confirmation that he had felt it too.

Like in some sort of trance, you lifted yourself up on your toes, drawn towards Tsu’tey's face. Your hand rested gently on his chest, careful to avoid the bandaged arm. You expected him to pull away, to reject your advances, but instead he watched you with a heated gaze. Tsu’tey knew that it was wrong to give into the temptation, that the aftermath wouldn’t be worth it, but he just needed to taste your lips.

Scared to your core, you tested the waters first by tentatively nuzzling your nose against his cheek. Tsu’tey released your hand out of his, but instead of pushing you away, he cupped your face roughly, pulling you into a kiss. His hunger to taste you consumed you, and you almost grew dizzy from the intensity of his lips.

As your lips parted, Tsu’tey pulled away, his eyes closed, breathing ragged. You tried to speak, to say something, anything, but your voice caught in your throat. You both stood there, silent, for what felt like an eternity until he spoke.

“I shouldn’t have done that,” he said, his voice low, “I’m sorry.”

“You did nothing wrong, Tsu’tey,” you whispered, staring into his eyes.

He was distraught but his hand was still gently caressing your cheek. In his eyes, you could see an internal struggle: his mind was telling him to stop, but his body was craving more.

His eyes widened before closing in a relaxing manner when you crashed your lips against his again. You were eager to satisfy your hunger for him, like an annoying itch that needed to be scratched.

Tsu’tey’s hand pulled you close by the nape of your neck, signaling you to keep going. Your stomach turned in a pleasant pain, when he groaned into your mouth. A few sloppy kisses were exchanged before you were pushing him back into a tree.

Tsu'tey couldn't resist you any longer, the passion that had been building up inside him finally erupting as he kissed you with all the desire he had been trying to suppress. His free hand roamed over your body, pulling you into him, not caring about the pain he felt in his injured arm.

But as the intensity of the moment grew, so did the guilt that Tsu'tey felt. He knew that what he was doing was wrong, that he could never give you more than this, no matter how much he wanted to.

“Y/N,” he pulled away, breathless, “I can’t do this to you.”

“It’s okay,” your voice hitched, his pitiful gaze on you, “I’m okay.”

Tsu’tey pursed his lips, his eyes slowly tracing your features. He had never before noticed the intricate pattern of stripes on your forehead, which formed a unique shape right in the center. He had never paid attention to the way your freckles glowed like stars in the night sky, something he had always loved to admire before drifting off to sleep. And the way your eyes glistened with a threat of tears, as you feared rejection.

“Please,” you pleaded with him, “Don’t pity me.”

He took a deep breath and let it out before slowly leaning into you. Your heart raced, as he nuzzled into your neck, his eyes shutting in surrender. Tsu’tey then pressed a soft kiss to the crook of your neck, hand grazing your back. Your heat felt uncomfortably abandoned under his touch, and you pressed your thighs together, attempting to get some sense of relief. The movement caught Tsu’tey’s attention, and he frowned, pulling away to observe you. But it wasn’t long till you distracted him with another kiss, scared of him changing his mind.

The sharp pain reminded him of his injury the second he tried to reach for you with his left arm. Tsu’tey suddenly realized that despite the lust he felt, he was too weak, too restricted to give in fully. So, when your hands reached for his loincloth, he swatted them away, gently pushing you off.

“What’s wrong?” you asked softly.

“I want to take care of you,” he admitted, his hand finding its way to your waist. It was his turn to make you feel good.

It was embarrassing how effortlessly Tsu’tey made you forget to breathe. He played a game of cat and mouse with you, giving in one moment and then changing his mind the next. But you desired him so intensely that you simply nodded, letting him turn you around and lower you on the ground. You didn't resist as Tsu’tey settled in behind you, his back pressed against the tree.

“Sit here,” he ordered, pointing to the spot between his legs.

You scooched back quietly, leaning your back against him. Tsu’tey shifted slightly to adjust to his broken arm, before pressing a kiss to your temple. You relaxed, eyes closing, as his fingers gently caressed the skin under your skimpy top, grazing the already hardened nipples. Tsu’tey continued planting kisses to the side of your face, when his hand moved in between your thighs and parted them. He untied your loincloth, exposing your cunt to the cold air.

“Tsu’tey,” your voice hitched at the anticipation of his next move.

His hand quickly left your thighs, now turning your face to him, so he could press a kiss to your lips. When your mouth opened immediately, welcoming him in, you felt his finger pushed down on your button. Tsu’tey caught your muffled groan into his mouth, and pressed down on you, as you tried to wiggle away from the sensation. A low growl vibrated through him as a warning before he gently glided his fingers over your slit, slowly massaging your folds. His palm brushed over your sensitive bundle of nerves, forcing a low moan out of you. Tsu’tey felt his member harden at the sound, almost in disbelief at how sensitive you were to his touch.

The flat of his palm circled slowly against your clit, rubbing lazily against it. You gasped his name, hips unintentionally bucking up into his touch, seeking a rhythm. But Tsu’tey enjoyed the sounds that you made a little too much to give in right away. His touch left you for a second, as he wetted his fingers and brought them back to your clit, starting to flick it. You groaned and moaned, as he kept going, occasionally switching to his palm to rub against your sensitive spot.

“More,” you pleaded, choking on your own breathing.

Tsu’tey hummed, not rushing to comply with your request, as his lips found their way to your neck again, trailing wet kisses. His hand continued to tease your clit in tight circles, and you felt him smear around some of your wetness. Your moans grew louder, when Tsu’tey pressed two fingers against your bud and started stroking it from side to side, picking up a rhythm. Shivers ran down your spine, and you whined at the overwhelming feeling in your stomach but before you could give into it, his digits pulled away, teasing you down your slit.

You were growing impatient, desperately wanting to chase the sensation by squeezing your thighs, but Tsu’tey did not like that. He parted your thighs again, throwing his legs over yours and restricting your movements. He meddled with the idea of punishing you for moving before brushing past your swollen folds and lightly slapping them. You whined at the sudden ache, and Tsu’tey had to stifle a chuckle at your reaction. He felt an urge to slap your heat harder this time, to force a louder yelp. By the sound of your painful cry, he knew he had succeeded, when he raised his hand higher and slapped against your folds with more force. A mixture of pain and pleasure started to blur your vision, as Tsu’tey slapped your heat over and over again, making your body convulse. You were panting heavily, when he stopped, and his finger teased your entrance before slipping in, not giving you time to adjust. Your eyes widened at the sensation, and he pushed it further into your tight walls, all the way to the last knuckle.

“Tsu’tey,” you exhaled in a slight discomfort. You had never felt anything inside you like that.

“”S okay, relax, syulang” he said with a husky voice.

Tsu’tey moved his finger, making you clench around him. But it was too tight, so much that he couldn’t help but groan at the sensation, wondering what it would feel like to have you around his penis instead. He pulled his finger out, palm rubbing against your nub, before slipping it back into your hole and pushing as far as he could. You started to whimper, your walls clamping down on him, as Tsu’tey slowly thrusted his digit in and out of you, accompanied by squelching sounds.

You tried to tell him that it was getting too much but your words came out in a sloppy jumble instead, making no sense. Tsu’tey picked up on a faster rhythm with quick sloppy motions, filling the air around you with a mixture of wet squelching sounds and your panting. He was running short of our breath too, violently thrusting his finger into you a few more times, before pulling it out.

“Please…don’t stop,” you whined at the absence of his touch, buckling back. You pressed your bottom into his crotch, as if pleading him to continue.

“Don’t-don’t do that, sweetheart,” Tsu’tey breathed out heavily.

You struggled to fight the fuzziness in your mind, as you suddenly felt the need to check on him. You turned to look at him through your hooded lids.

“Did I hurt you?”

Tsu’tey shook his head with a low chuckle. He couldn’t contain his amusement at the fact that you were checking on him. It was an unexpected situation anyway, but even stranger, considering that it happened in the middle of such intimate act. He suddenly felt the need to reward you for your worrying.

As you held his gaze, searching for a sign of pain, Tsu’tey caught your lips with his, hungrily sucking and pulling at your bottom lip. Your mind got clouded with the hotness of his skin, which was exactly how Tsu’tey distracted you again. His hand caressed your thighs and sneaked back to your clit, beginning to draw tight circles around it. He enjoyed the way you bucked your hips up into his touch, chasing that sweet taste of pleasure.

As you buckled up again, Tsu’tey rubbed your swollen bud with a force, then picked up on a steady rhythm. It wasn’t long till you felt the tension building up in your pit again, and you pressed the side of your face into his chest, feeling hot in your cheeks. His fingers were expertly fiddling with your nub, his motions speeding up. Small whimpers were escaping from your mouth, and Tsu’tey couldn’t help but groan at the sight of you nearing your release. His penis was pulsating, as he started rubbing your button more roughly.

“Need you,” you trembled, gripping his thighs with your hand.

Your hips were jerking out of control, chasing that feeling building inside you, your body tensing up, with in a sharp intake of air. The painful tension broke down into a wave of pleasure, spreading from your heat to the knots in your fingers and toes.

You held your breath, squeezing your eyes shut at the immense sensation. Tsu’tey exhaled behind you, feeling the way you shivered underneath his touch. He rubbed your oversensitive clit again, pushing you over the edge, and you whined, squirming under him. It was too overwhelming, almost painful. You tried to squeeze your thighs, your hole clenching and pulsing around nothing, juice flowing out of it like a nectar.

“Stop, Tsu’tey…stop,” you gasped, as he slowed his motions on your sensitive spot.

Your hand swatted at his, and Tsu’tey chuckled before finally pulling it away. Your chest sank in big heavy pants, and his lips were on you again, hand caressing the soft skin of your tummy, and moving up to your chest. You breathed heavily, when he squeezed your breast in his palm, a satisfied smirk finding a way to your lips. When he kissed the side of your face again, you turned your face to capture his lips. Tsu’tey hummed in satisfaction.

“I need you to-” you pulled away from him, still a little breathless, “I need you to relax too.”

You wiggled your legs from underneath his, and shifted to sit sideways. Before your hands could even reach for the ties of his loincloth, Tsu’tey stopped you.

“Not now,” he shook his head.

“Then when?” you raised your eyebrows, “When you’re healed?”

He chuckled at your desperation. Tsu’tey couldn’t deny or hide his arousal from you but it was amusing to watch you figure out the reason for his rejection.

“Maybe.”

You let out a small sigh, your lips settling into a contented smile. But as you remembered the upcoming ceremony, you quickly rose to your feet, hastily tying your loincloth. Tsu’tey watched you shamelessly, feeling at ease with the knowledge that you now had a piece of him too. Even if it wasn’t going to be permanent.

“We should head back now to make it in time for the ceremony,” you mumbled, “I promised to help.”

Tsu’tey nodded, standing up too. But there was something different about it when he met your gaze. No words were exchanged as he followed your lead, back into the cove. You couldn’t shake off the feeling that this wasn’t the end yet.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

chapter 2

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

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bookdragonideas · 3 months

Text

Toph should have been homeless.

A lone wanderer traveling across the Earth Kingdom. She would have taught metalbending to anyone who wished to learn. Beating up bullies and helping small towns recover and rebuild. Occasionally blackmailing one of the MANY world leaders who owe her into letting her crash at their place and eat all their food.

As she gets older she gets wiser. Becoming the Uncle Iroh to the younger generations. She's never as gentle as he was, but she remembers him fondly and never hesitates to dispense some cryptic wisdom on some hot-headed kid.

As years pass she stops wandering quite so far. Instead she stays for long months in the Fire nation or on Kyoshi Island. Occasionally she drops in on that new town/nation that Zuko and Aang are building. But she never stays for long.

She never marries. Never has kids. The rest of the Gaangs kids refer to her as Auntie Toph, and she loves them. But she decided long ago that she didn't want to be a mother.

She's there when Aang dies, holds Katara like Katara has always held her. Whispers to her that twinkle toes isn't gone. Not forever. He'll be back. He's the avatar after all.

She's there when Suki dies. Unable to save her in the heat of battle, unable to heal her afterwards. Sokka takes a few months to join her on her travels. She protects him, even as he fights with a recklessness that scares her. Suki would want him to survive.

Sokka calms down, goes home to his sister and his people and the white lotus. Toph keeps traveling.

She hears of her parents death. She spends the next week helping a lost child find his parents. And she visits the Boulder on her next trip through town. He much to old to be fighting her, but they rematch on the ring anyways. He mocks her the same way he always does and never says a word about her parents.

She gives him her parents wealth, he runs an animal shelter now and could use the funds.

She isn't there when Mai dies. Far on the eastern edge of the Earth Kingdom when the news of the Fireladies death reaches her. She takes Zuko on fieldtrip when she gets back to the Fire Nation. He owed her anyways.

They find Dragons.

The new Avatar emerges. A hot-headed young girl from the Southern Water Tribe.

She nothing like Twinkle Toes.

She's so much like Aang it hurts.

Katara is getting old. She hides it well but she's slower now. Not quite as fierce. Calming down as the years slip by.

Sokka dies and it rips Toph apart. He was her big brother. He died to save the world. She spends a few months with the sand benders. Spends a few more months deep in a swamp where occasionally she can still hear his voice. Once she hears Aang, sounding as young as the day they met.

Katare is so quiet now. She teaches the young avatar to heal. But not to fight. Saying that honor belongs to a younger teacher.

Honor make Toph think of Zuko.

She's there when he steps down and gives the throne to his daughter. It's a lovely ceremony. Afterwards they go on another fieldtrip. They find sky bison. Living wild and free in small island chains far from the mainland. Toph tells Katara who tells her children. And Airbenders fly with Sky Bison once more.

Katara passes peacefully in her sleep. Toph cries.

She goes on fieldtrips with Zuko every year now. Sometimes they find things. Sometimes they fight people. Sometimes they visit places that echo with memories.

The war was a horrible thing. Toph knows this. But a small dark shard of her heart is eternally grateful for Sozins greed. Without it she would never have known her friends.

The house on Ember Island lays in ruins now. The house Zukos family uses nowadays is smaller, more inconspicuous, a friendly little cottage.

They stay at the old house. Laughing when they find the rooms burned from when Zuko chased Aang. There's a small spot outside where the earthbent remains of Melon Lord stands. Toph can still remember Sokka's voice planning, Suki's light footsteps. Katara's fierce fighting and Aang hesitating before the final blow.

Zuko can't.

Zuko forgets more and more. Until the only thing they do on fieldtrips is go places. To remember. He asks where Uncle Iroh is. Thinks Mai is with them. Doesn't remember that his daughter is the Firelord now, not him.

A new threat arises. Zuko dies defending his nation and family. The world's mourns Firelord Zuko the great peace bringer. Toph mourns Zuko the awkward friend.

The new avatar dies. And Toph realizes that she doesn't know her own age.

The world is different now. There's so many new inventions. Toph thinks that Sokka would have loved to see this modern age.

A celebration for a hundred years of peace helps her remember her age for a few years.

Theres a new New avatar. A young boy from the sandbenders. His voice reminds her of Aang when she teaches him metalbending.

The next she hears of him is his marriage to some fire bending girl.

She spends time in the swamp, helps the swamp benders fight against those who would destroy the land. She gives council to the Sandbenders, as they seek independence from the rest of the Earth Kingdom.

She visits the house on Ember Island. It's part of a protected forest now.

She nearly kills a man on Kyoshi Island. He was telling a story of the end of the hundred year war. But he got it all wrong.

The four nations are no more. There are more than ten nations now. The Water Tribes split long ago. Three distinct Air Temples operate separately and with different principles and beliefs. The Republic continues to grow. The Sandbenders and Swampbenders are still sorting thing out, but they'll both be independent soon.

The two hundredth year of peace bring war. As tensions break and new weapons are being used. Bending is no longer the most powerful weapon out there.

The two hundredth year of peace bring war. But Toph is not there to see it.

Three years earlier she sits in a cave. She had spent the summer teaching some kids metalbending, and even just basic Earthbending.

It had been... nice.

But she's so tired now. She sits in the cave. There are no other people for miles around. But she's not alone. The memories of her friends, her family, weigh on her shoulders and echo in her her ears.

As she sits in the darkness she hears a sound. A quiet shuffling and then a loud crash! As walls are reshaped and her oldest friends find her.

Badgermoles live for centuries. And these Badgermoles remember her. They remember a small, scared little girl who was just like them.

In the darkness the Badgermoles snuggle close. Keeping her warm. Keeping her company.

Toph sits in a cave surrounded by Badgermoles cuddling her. Slowly she falls asleep.

She does not wake up.

Above the world goes on. War leads to peace leads to war leads to peace once again. The avatar lives and dies and is reborn, over and over again. History stretches larger and larger. Until the truth becomes legends.

Firelord Zuko, Avatar Aang, Chief Sokka and Warrior Suki, Master Katara the Mother of the Southern Benders. These names are preserved, remembered. Their stories become legends. Passed down from generation to generation. Written of in both fables and historical records alike.

The first ship to leave orbit is called Aang. To be a sokka is to be inventive. Hundreds of girls fighting groups are named after Katara and Suki.

Zuko the Tenth oversees the signing of a new peace treaty as the neutral party.

Only a few footnotes remember the Forgotten member of the ancient Team Avatar. The earthbender. A girl named Toph who disappeared from records shortly after the Hundred Year War, though rumors of her were recorded for nearly two centuries afterwards. Her story is a rather farfetched one. More likely she either died in the war or soon after. Perhaps, some optimists say, she settled down and lived a normal life afterwards.

Many centuries later a mining company makes a wonderful discovery. The ancient burial caves of the now extinct Badgermoles. But a mystery awaits within this archeological marvel. For nestled within the hundreds of Badgermole skeletons there lies a single Human skeleton.

She lies there alone, surrounded by Badgermoles. Almost as if she was one of them. Almost as if they respected her, honored her.

Loved her.

And in a small town, a blind boy hears a legend. A legend that inspires him. A legend of a girl named Toph.

#atla #toph beifong #atla toph #Toph #avatar the last airbender #writing #bookdragonideas #It is midnight and I'm crying over my own writing #I went to write a short bit on how Toph should have never been a cop and ended up with this.

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lovefairymina · 3 months

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The life of an immortal is a lonely one.

Ever since you were cursed with this eternal life, you have been forced to live and watch as time passed and the world continued changing. You witnessed how magic vanished from the world and how the last of the elves sailed west after Sauron’s defeat. You saw how the race of men took over, and how the age of kings came to an end, replaced by an age of advanced technology and pollution that crippled the world.

The stories about elves and Valars vanished from the minds that still remembered them, and soon people began to come up with new stories and theories, such as science and evolution. They proposed theories about how the universe was created by one huge blast, and how the earth beneath your feet was nothing but one big rock born through other rocks and gravitational pull.

There was no end to these new theories and stories, but they gave you a certain sense of importance and wisdom since you still remembered the truth about everything—how the world was truly created, and how somewhere beyond the world was the land of gods and immortals.

You wonder how your friends were doing since they had long sailed there. You can imagine the peace and the joy they experienced because it seemed even without evil gods and orcs, the world could still fall ill and chaotic under the rule of men. It had even become so bad that the air tasted different.

It had been lonely living all those years, but you believed you would live till the prophesized final battle would take place and the world would be renewed. You are not sure how or when it will begin. You did imagine perhaps when that day arrived, you would finally die and join your family on the other side, but everything changed when you saw him.

You were at the docks when there was a carnival. People were selling their goods, enjoying rides on the machines, and the children would nag their parents to buy toys and candy that were well overprized and low on quality. It was a rather gloomy day, with grey clouds in the sky and the sea wind bringing mild rain to the docks. Then you saw him standing at the wooden railings, quietly watching toward the sea.

His hair was long and dark like the night, and when you saw his face, you knew he possessed features only possible for an elf, which nearly left you stunned.

You would have nearly mistaken him for any other person as he was dressed in modern clothing, and in his hands, he held a very old walkman. You hadn't seen one of those since the development of flip phones, especially a working one. When you took a closer look at the elf’s face, you noticed a faint yet familiar light in his eyes, similar to what you had seen in the very few ancient elves. It was a dead giveaway that he was truly an elf.

"Quite a gloomy day to listen to music," you started after you approached him.

The elf quickly took off his earbuds after noticing you.

"You are not worried even the slightest that your little toy gets wet in this weather?" you questioned and pointed at the walkman.

He looked awkward for a moment. "It's fine... It has survived worse weathers," he answered quietly, his voice faint that it nearly sounded like a whisper.

You looked at him closely. His voice sounded oddly strained. When you glanced down at his hands, you noticed a very severe-looking scar, like he had held a very hot object that had burned through his skin.

"You seem a bit lonely. Do you come here often to listen to music and look toward the sea?" you questioned.

"I..." he hesitated. "Well, I don't often wander in company, and coming here eases some achings in my heart," he answered.

You looked at him curiously.

"Is there something behind the sea you hope to reach?" you questioned.

"Yes... A place of sorts, but it's been so long that I do not know if I'll ever be able to reach it," he replied, and then silence filled the gap between you.

You looked at him as he continued looking toward the sea. Swiftly, you brushed his hair out of his ears and saw the sharp tips, further confirming your suspicions of him being an elf.

He snapped toward you, pushing your hand away and hiding his ears behind his hair before anyone could notice. You two then stared at each other.

"(I thought all the Eldar had sailed west thousands of years ago,)" you spoke in his tongue, and his eyes widened with shock.

"(Tell me. Why hadn't you gone home?)" you asked.

He then looked away, and you could see shadowed sorrow and regret. "(Many years ago. I committed terrible acts, so to punish myself. I went on exile,)" he answered.

He then looked toward the sea, or specifically, toward the west.

"But now I do not know after all these years. This loneliness had crippled my mind, and I can barely keep it away with music," he spoke as he held the walkman in his hands.

“I yearn for my family, but I do not know if the gods see me even worthy to step on their land again,” he added.

You looked at him with pity. "Living in loneliness is a terrible thing especially if you're alone in this world," you said, looking at the sea with him.

"I know as I have existed since the second Age of Arda, and I do not even know what I did to deserve such a punishment," you explained.

“My friends once told me that one way to entertain yourself as time passed was the hear and tell stories, but the years have become so twisted, and now I only have stories but no one to share them with,” you explained then looked at him.

“You know, maybe hearing each other’s stories could ease the painful aching within our souls, and I would love to talk again in the language of my old friends,” you smiled.

He released a dry laugh.

“I do not think you will enjoy hearing my story,” he answered.

You grinned. “How about we care less about who we used to be in the past and take the chance to enjoy a moment of companionship?” you questioned.

“So, what say you, Mellon? Care for a little chat?” you asked and waited for his answer.

Momentary calculating his options didn't take too long. You were the first person to remind him of his past while also dwelling from his time. Two souls, two hearts connecting at once. There wasn't another who could understand him like you would, and that was all he sought after. Inhaling, he looked to the overcast skies and back at you. “Sure, why not.”

#♡{sweet.hugs} ~ {maglor}#maglor #maglor x y/n #maglor x you #maglor imagine #kanafinwe #kanafinwë #makalaurë #makalaure #macalaurë #house of feanor #feanorians #silm imagines #middle earth imagine

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paladin-of-nerd-fandom65 · 2 months

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Cool questions!

1: when playing, does the duo re-act stuff from movies? Like anakin vs obi wan or when Shrek is escaping from the dragon?

2: what’s one thing that one does shocks the other? Like Chris disliking bananas on pancakes? (Read that from an earlier post of yours)

3: for the superfamily, what’s one story you would write for them?

4: what’s one story you would write for Chris for his own book?

5: same as Jake?

Phew! Took me a good while but I finally was able to get to answering this one @pin-crusher2000 . Thanks for the ask

1) Oh most definitely Chris and Jake would reenact so many Star Wars duels, especially Obi Wan vs Anakin as they can float around which make doing those fancy acrobatics all the easier. Bonus points if they utilize those cardboard tubes and paint them to their lightsaber colors and Jake using his speaker’s speakers to play the music in the background

Otherwise, they certainly would also do the Dragon Escape but most tellingly if Meredith was watching them, reenact kaiju battles

2) Oh, Jake putting Milk Before Cereal which horrifies not just Chris but also Mar’i and Dick

Also, Chris not minding the dumb fun of the Bayformers films as much as Jake does

3) I think I can have Clark, Lois, Kara, Conner, Chris and Jon get blasted across space and time, across multiple time periods, alternate histories or possible futures of Metropolis during a big battle against the Time Trapper. For example, Lois winds up in Metropolis in 1889 during the height of the Gilded Age, her mini adventure being to expose a corrupt all powerful banker while Conner is sent into a Metropolis that’s controlled by Germany in a scenario should they had won the Second World War. The finale for the arc would see the Superman Family reunite at the End of Time itself coming face to face with the Trapper, but it won’t be just the family as many of their new friends they met all across their little adventures assemble to help as well.

4) Less of an entire story and more a one to two issue arc involving Nightwing Phantom taking on a cosmic being in a game of wits and intelligence rather than fisticuffs, all for the sake of saving reality itself. Think this being akin to say A 4th Dimension Imp like Mr Mxyzptlk or more overtly the Celestial Toymaker from Doctor Who. The real meat though is whatever thoughts and emotions are transpiring inside of Chris’ mind space as I place this after he has his reaffirmation from Dad Clark of him belonging to Earth in light of Zod’s invasion. He thinks about this planet he’s trying to truly accept as his home in spite of his origins and how much he must defend it from this entity while also trying to reaffirm himself that he belongs with his real family the Kents despite Zod’s words permeating his thinking space.

5) Here, I take some inspiration from the Batman TAS episode “The Underdwellers” in which like in that episode, Jake would be investigating some recent pickpocketing going on across the Bludhaven streets, all of them being committed by street urchins and runaways, a lot of them around his age range doing such under the tyrannical rule of a supposed caretaker who treats them rather horribly. After running into one of the urchins and rescuing them from an incoming subway train, Jake and the kid become friendly with each other to where the kid can lead our hero to the whereabouts of his comrades. Coming along for the ride is one of Jake’s rouges, long time best frenemy Cody Cunningham aka Lion Master, who also had caught wind of the pickpocketing so he comes along with Skybird in this investigation, forming something of an alliance between them. This proves handy as like the Sewer King in “The Underdwellers”, the villain has vicious sewer gators that serve him which Cody’s lions are able to fend off while Skybird persues and eventually captures the villain. With that, the orphans are finally freed from his reign, taken in by the Services and able to see the light outside once again. Throughout this story, we not only can get glimpses into Jake’s head as this in a way is deja vu with his history of failing to save street orphans from a supervillain once before but also once Lion Master enters the picture, the two can have talks about each other’s deal and how Lion Master in many ways just wants a place to call a home after surviving in the streets for so long and his sympathies for Jake’s situation in light of this case.

As the two were successful working together and Cody realizes he feels much better doing some actual good rather than remaining a small time thief with a gimmick, he finally takes up Jake’s offer to renounce his old life as a rouge, first turning himself in to the authorities and spending some time in Juvie to make up for his robberies (his lions we’re thankfully tamed enough for the authorities to keep in that meantime) then once he gets out of his sentence for good behavior, moves into the Grayson Apartment complex with a place of his own. A new fresh start for him, especially when his new landlord, Dick Grayson, drops by and hearing of his skills as a lion tamer offers him and his feline companions a job at Haly Circus.

#chris kent #jake grayson #starburst duo #clark kent #lois lane #kara zor el #jonathan samuel kent #Cody Cunningham #OC #batman tas #mention #sfw

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brandwhorestarscream · 17 days

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Hey! I'm from KOBDSS' ask

It was "KOBDSS, but breakdown is the carrier of jettwins and wildbreak"

Ok I've been sitting on this for awhile and ngl kinda struggling, cuz. I'm not too great at puzzling out three way relationships 😅 but I think I'm finally getting there

First and foremost! Unlike previous iterations, I think the three of them will be triplets here. They come as a huge shock to everyone, and Knockout is the first to know whilst diagnosing his mate's sudden restlessness and inability to keep fuel down. Knockout is stunned to see a grand total of 5 infant sparks orbiting around Breakdown's. Seekers are always born in threes, but one of them split in two so there were 4. Add Wildbreak for a clean 5

They know the chances of Starscream being the sire of at least one is inarguable. They have... a weird relationship with their commander. Knockout and Breakdown have been conjunxed since long before the war, back when Veloctiron was still online and still the hottest, fastest place in the universe. They've always known of Starscream, he's infamous among the decepticons. But they'd never actually met the guy or been under his jurisdiction until earth, snd though their relationship is certainly a bit looser and involved now, there's still... a sort of wall there. Starscream is a massively distrustful and paranoid individual, and it took months of coaxing and careful flirtation to get him to even consider their propositions. Even when their sexual rendezvous' became semi-regular, and friendly(ish) visits even moreso, it's clear he doesn't trust them and is guarding his spark closely. He doesn't love them, doesn't think they love him, and has been beaten down and torn apart too many times to even entertain the idea. KOBD are fully content and emotionally fulfilled between each other, and while they do care for Starscream to a degree, it's more friendly than the deep and romantic love they hold for each other.

Which... somehow, makes it more awkward. If they were all a big happy united threeway sparkbond, it would be easy to tell him. They'd better be able to gage how he might react. But with him holding them at arms length and vice versa, and the seeker being so volatile, they can't even begin to guess what he'll do. What he'll think.

Knockout knows they ought to disclose it as soon as possible. After all, it's an important medical condition. But... he's worried. They both are. Breakdown has made it clear, right from the moment he found out about them, he can't stand the idea of a termination. He knows they should. They both do. An active battlefield is no place for a bitty let alone several, and they're not in a position to guarantee their safety and shelter from the war's ever evolving fallout. But the idea of snuffing them is too cruel, even for the two of them. But if they tell the wrong person or things escalate negatively, there's the risk Lord Megatron or Starscream might order their termination anyway. And while the two of them have already resolved to fight for their litter if they have to... they both know it's a fight they'll lose.

Soundwave is the next one privy to their situation. He's the calmest and most reasonable commanding force on the ship, and realistically, if anyone could get them greenlit for parenthood while also not being ejected from the warship, it's probably Soundwave. They're hoping he'll smooth things over with their big boss, because everyone knows Soundwave can do no wrong in Megatron's eyes. Of the news comes from him it'll seem less bad, right?

Right!

...except Soundwave does little more than acknowledge their situation and quietly file it away into the logs. Informs them to act at their discretion: if they want maternity leave or to be excused from battle, that is Lord Megatron's will alone.

These two idiots take the "act at your discretion" and run with it. They're just....... waiting for the right time to tell Starscream. Maybe once hes recovered from his last beatdown from Megatron a bit, or comes to loitering around the medbay when he's in a particular good mood and looking to gossip. Yeah, they'll spring it on him then, and gently ease it in with a cup of some hot energon and some embarrassing story plucked from one of the hapless vehicons. They're bracing for impact and trying to dodge the inevitable. The idiots

Their stupidity unfortunately does eventually lend itself to tragedy. Thankfully they've avoided any altercations with the autobots recently, and Breakdown has been listening to Knockout about not exerting himself. The carrying cycle is progressing nicely and Soundwave has been approving thejr extra energon intake without question. Everything is great.

And then everything goes to shit because of MECH

Everything plays out just as it does in canon. A clash with Bulkhead, taking hits and plunging it head first like he really shouldn't, dragged away by the humans and put under the knife. Having his optic ripped out of his head, having pieces of him removed and cut away. It's a traumatic, horrifying experience, and by the time Bulkhead arrives to free him he's bleeding from a very inconvenient place. Breakdown doesn't know if his greatest rival truly didn't notice or if he was refusing to acknowledge it, but he's glad for it either way. Starscream shows up to get him back, and Breakdown manages to hold himself together until he gets to the medbay

Knockout is waiting for him, and already knows the grim reality: Breakdown had never experienced such a spark-deep, lacerating pain than when one of their sparklings reabsorbed into him, premature bond shattering and leaving him a howling, roaring mess strapped to that concrete slab. Even now it persist, as his internals constrict and twist trying purge what would have been one of their bodies.

He looks like a mess stumbling into Knockout's arms, face still torn open, a gaping hole of wires and energon where his eye once was, chassis soaked in blood from their experiments and thighs just as wet, leaking a trail of blood behind him. The second the door whooshes shut behind them Breakdown collapses, crumbling to his knees and starting to scream even as his bondmate rushes throw his arms around him. It's so much, it's too much, everything is visceral pain, everywhere, from the farest reaches of his limbs to the cold void growing in his spark. It's agony, pure agony, as he desperately clings onto Knockout hard enough to dent and scratch and scrape, bawling and screaming in ire so loudly it surely echoes out into the halls. It's all just too much.

And then, to make matters worse, Starscream arrives. Bulkhead may not have noticed but he did. He can think of several reasons a mech might be voiding internal energon from his interface array, and none of them are positive. One look at the two of them immediately confirms his suspicions, and the only thing he can ask is, "Why didn't you tell me?"

Why, indeed. Breakdown immediately starts hysterically rambling, that he's sorry he knows they should've said something sooner but he's sorry this is all his fault and he's so sorry-

Explanations can wait, evidently. They need to get him taken care of, first.

Thankfully, a quick look with the mirror and a medical scan reveal that three of them are still there. Obviously stressed, vibrating at a higher rhan usual frequency, but still anchored safely to him. Not immediately in danger of reabsorption, and it's a huge, bittersweet relief. Three of them survived, might still survive all the way to emergence. The happiness is of course overshadowed by the loss, but this discovery feels like a glimmer of hope nonetheless. Knockout gets to work patching him up as seamlessly as he can, precise, loving hands eradicating wound by microscopic wound. Breakdown gets a tiny but of carrier-safe sedative, to relax his body enough to safely operate while keeping him semi-coherent. They talk the whole time, all three of them. About... what to do next, about what the future may look like with three sparklings soon to be born. Starscream agrees that, if any of them have wings, he'll willingly care for them and be their parent. If they're all grounders, then... he'll of course be civil and be more forgiving about time off for the two of them, but he won't be involved. It's a fair arrangement they can all agree on.

Of course, that all goes out the window when the three of them are born. Starscream himself didn't even realize how excited he was for their birth until Knockout announces the first one is a grounder, and his spark leaps because he doesn't care. He doesn't care if they're a grounder or a flyer, his spark lurches in a joyful way it hasn't done since before Vos fell, and all at once he realizes that he wants to be involved in these bitties' lives whether they're actually his or not. They'll need all the help, all the love they can get, and he wants to be there with them regardless of what frame they are.

Then the next two come out as jets and he's somehow even happier, because this means he'll have someone to teach about the sky and all it's wonders, and it's somehow an even greater happiness. The three of them are beautiful sparklings, each somehow with Knockout's unnaturally pretty, elegant face. The little grounder looks just like his carrier as far as his colors go, mimicking him near perfectly, but his alt mode is achingly different but so familiar. "He's just like Wildrider..." Breakdown murmurs, optics faraway as he remembers his family from so long ago. They name the eldest Wildbreak, at Knockout's insisting that Breakdown being included too. The split spark twins inherit names from the sky, from long dead relatives they'll never meet: Jetfire and Jetstorm. Neither Knockout nor Breakdown has any complaints, so their names are settled on swiftly. With that out of the way their exhausted parents can all settle in on and around the bed, bonding with their newborns and whispering back and forth to each other about just how wonderful their precious sparklings are 💖

#ask game #hi anon sorry its been months 😭#i really wanted to do a good job with this cuz i love the idea but. i think i finally did ok!#please enjoy 💖#also feel free to throw rocks and boo i really do deserve it lmfao #KOBDSS #knockout #Breakdown #Starscream #cw miscarriage

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echantedtoon · 4 months

Text

Everyone Wants A Brother Like You Part 1 A Brother In A Different Way

Everyone wants a big brother, especially if it's one as caring and kind as Tanjiro. They all think so but it's too bad they can't have a brother like him-...Or can they actually in a different way?

(DISCLAIMERS!!: This is gonna be a little story based on the art by feshnie on deviantart and an au based on the same picture by @yuki2sksksk on Tumblr. It'll just be cute little Oneshots because honestly I think all these ships involving Nezuko are cute. Although Inosuke's route will be written up for interpretation as platonic or romantic. This is just an au I'm doing for fun so things aren't going to be cannon and might be ooc. All art shown with the Chapters (minus the coverart which is by Feshnie on DeviantArt) was either taken from the anime, from the Kimetsu No Yaiba/Kimetsu Gakuen mangas, or are sketches by Koyoharu Gotouge. I don't own demon slayer, the characters, art, etc. Demon Slayer/Art/etc. belongs to Koyoharu Gotouge.

Links to both content creators are below please support both artists and their own content.

Feshnie

https://www.deviantart.com/feshnie/art/BNHA-Brother-in-law-Tanjirou-818234170

@yuki2sksksk

https://www.tumblr.com/yuki2sksksk/718220290228961280/inspired-by-a-fan-art-i-saw-on-pinterest-sometime?source=share

Also everyone is alive because I said so. This takes place after battling Muzan for the final time and everyone is currently recovering.)

The beautiful morning sun gazed over the earth with a golden glow and cascaded through the window making the glass glow with a shine. The cherry blossoms outside swayed gently in the breeze as soft pink petals and perfect green leaves fell from their branches and floated down onto the ground outside of the Butterfly Mansion. Birds sang and fluttered about the breeze. The peaceful quiet settling in with the silent morning.

Until a flurry of giggles and squeals interrupted the air as three little girls ran past the window in play kicking up petals and leaves.

"Dammit! Can't they wait until later in the day to start playing!?"

The once silent room was alive with grumbles and groans of others waking in their beds. One in particular cursing the sun and turning around to plop back onto his stomach shoving a rather fluffy pillow over his head. However one of them was energetic enough to sit up and stretch out smiling at the window with a yawn and smile.

"Oh, come on. It's not that bad. It's a beautiful morning today!"

"HA!! I WAS AWAKE WAY BEFORE THE SUN WAS!! TAKE THAT YOU WIMPY FIREBALL!!"

"Would you be quiet?! Your yelling is worse than your snoring- OOP?!"

"HAHAHAHA!! TOO SLOW, MITENFU!!"

Red eyes turned over and sighed. Tanjiro had been hopeful it would be a nice morning before any training but it seemed like that wouldn't be the case. Inosuke had woken up in typical Inosuke fashion by yelling and declaring his righteous toughness over anything he randomly decided to challenge that day making Zenitsu yell back complaining. Unfortunately the blonde hadn't been fast enough to duck the incoming pillow their friend had thrown right at his face knocking Zenitsu back onto the bed.

"THAT'S UNCALLED FOR!!," the blonde furiously tore the pillow from his face sitting back up and pointing right back to him. "And it's Zenitsu! Got that?! You've known me for how long and you still can't get my name right?!"

"Oh, give it a rest both of you!! You're annoying as hell!!" Tanjiro looked next to him. Genya was still laying on his stomach and had the pillow over his head still. On his other side Muichiro blinked silently as his brain slowly became ungroggy to the world. "Next time I'm sleeping outside! At least the birds are quiet at night!"

"Says you!" Zenitsu dared to point at Genya next as the black haired boy glared at him from under the pillow. "You both snore so loud you can attract an army of demons from a hundred miles away!!"

"Guys." Tanjiro rose a hand to no avail.

"HUH?! WHAT DO YOU MEAN PENTA IS LOUDER THAN ME?!" In an instant Inosuke was standing on his bed pointing one hand at Zenitsu and one at Genya accusingly as both turned to now glare at him. "MY LUNGS ARE SO POWERFUL I CAN BEAT BOTH OF IN YELLING!!"

"Fucking hell. Can't you get my name right at least?"

"See?! I told you you're always getting everyone's names wrong!"

"I wasn't talking to you, Sunflower!!"

"Guys?" Tanjiro asked slightly louder as Zenitsu whipped back to Genya.

"SUNFLOWER!? DO I LOOK LIKE A PLANT TO YOU?!"

"No. At least plants are quiet." Genya finally allowed the pillow to fall from his annoyed face having given up on sleeping in that morning.

"At least sunflowers are nice to look at! You look like a piece of coal that got hacked up by a mangy cat!!"

"What the hell did you say to me, Blondie?!"

"HEY!! IM STILL LOUDER!!"

"WE WEREN'T TALKING TO YOU!!" "SHUT UP, PIGHEAD!!"

"GUYS!!" All at once the three of them stopped whipping around to stare at Tanjiro who gave a stern look back holding both hands up... before sighing allowing both his arms to plop back down to his sides. "Let's not fight. It's too early in the morning to fight like this."

Both Zenitsu and Genya looked at one another and scowled but otherwise didn't argue again much to Tanjiro's relief. Inosuke laughed loudly in triumph.

"HA!! That means I beat both of you in loudness!"

"You certainly do, Inosuke." Tanjiro smiled happily. "Let's all save the next contest for later."

"None of us were in a contest," Zenitsu mumbled under his breath but didn't start an argument again.

"Ok. Hey, Misthead. Where are you going?"

They all turned to Muichiro whom had just gotten up silently, tossed off the blankets, and walked off towards the bathhouse area. Rubbing his eyes and yawning as the others followed him with their heads.

"To get dressed. All of you are too noisy."

"Hey! That's not a bad idea!" Tanjiro smiled at him and quickly followed Muichiro's lead in tossing off the blankets and following after their friend. Making a motion at everyone else to follow. "Come on. Let's all go get breakfast! We'll feel better if we eat something."

More grumbling was had. Eventually one after one they followed after the cheerfully smiling boy. At least it would stop the grumbling and put everyone in a better mood and hopefully stop them all from fighting. Twenty minutes later and the whole group of them found themselves just outside the door leading to the garden. Shinobu had suggested they should get some fresh air while waiting for their food to be made but to in her own words-

"Mind your injuries. You're still healing from very serious injuries from a very serious battle. I'd hate to confine you all to bed."

Shinobu's threats were to be taken very seriously as experience has taught them. So they gathered just outside of the garden and watched the peaceful day go by. Not a single thing to be worried about now. Just then all and the peaceful morning air-

"TANJIRO!!" That was until three little girls came running right up to the red eyed boy looking almost worried.

"Huh? What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong!," one of the three girls spoke up smiling at him. "Nezuko just needs your help with getting firewood!"

"Oh! Of course! Where is she?"

Nezuko. Finally after so long she was human again. After so long and after so much stress and effort, his beloved sister was finally able to walk in the sunlight again and live out her life. Human. It's still as if he'd wake up one day and it'll all be a dream but it was his reality. One they had to keep.

Tanjiro scanned behind them but didn't see any signs of his sister. "Where is she?"

"Outside of the garden with Aoi." Another pointed to just outside the garden and near the treeline. "She's waiting for you."

"Alright then! I guess I better go help them." He turned a smile right back to his friends just as another new face appeared in the doorway behind them. "I'll be right back. Save me a bowl of udon when the food arrives. Alright?"

Then he left quickly leaving everyone else to wait standing there.

"WWWWHHHHAAAAA- Why didn't Nezuko-chan ask for my help?! As her future husband, don't I get some consideration from her?!"

"Oh put a sock in it, Sunflower!"

"What's going on?" A new voice asked as a boy the same age as Muichiro stepped out holding a broom in his hands looking confused.

"Senjuro," one of the girls greeted him. "Tanjiro's gone to help Nezuko and Ali with the firewood!"

"Oh." The flame haired boy smiled. "That's nice of him. Nezuko's lucky to have such a kind brother."

Muichiro glanced curiously at the other boy, a look of slight concern in his eyes. "Senjuro, how's Kyojuro?" Senjuro jumped and blinked taken aback in surprise at Muichiro of all people addressing him. But Muichiro only tilted his head further. "I heard as of lately he was still recovering from his battle wounds, but I have yet to see him around. How is he?"

Senjuro blinked again before sighing. "You mean despite the missing eye and hole in his stomach?" He nodded glumly. "He's ok. Not great but ok. Ms. Shinobu says he'll live but..I'm still worried about him." He looked uncomfortable to say the least and decided to change the subject. "How's your brother doing? Last I heard, Yuichiro's waiting for you at home right? I bet he'll be happy to see you again after so long!"

It was Muichiro's turn to frown with a hum. "I.. suppose so. It's been so long-"

"You two shrimps have brothers?," Genya questioned raising a brow and crossing his arms although not in a rude way, he looked more lightly surprised than anything."

"Why is that so surprising?" Genya paused as Muichiro pointed at him and uttered his next sentence. "Don't you also have a brother in the corps? I'm pretty sure it's Sanemi."

"Sanemi? Wasn't he the jerk who tried to kill Nezuko-chan?!" Zenitsu tossed another dirty look directed at the sweating Genya as Senjuro gave all three of them a look of alarm.

"He tried to do what?!"

"OH DROP THAT SUBJECT!! IT'S IN THE PAST!! Besides didn't you have a brother too or something that went into the final selection before you even did?" Genya half challenged half changed the subject to Zenitsu who flinched. HARD. "Yeah. He trained under the same master you did right? What was his name?....Kai or something like that."

Zenitsu stared wide eyed at them all.. before turning away with a quick sad look. "We weren't really brothers....I don't want to talk about it."

"I DON'T HAVE ANY BROTHERS!!" Of course Inosuke had to proudly and randomly yell it like it was something to be proud of.

A tense and awkward silence fell over the group as no one felt the urge to talk about their brothers or lack there of. A small cough was given to the group as they shuffled about...until the trio of girls looked at one another and the one with braids decided to change the subject.

"Nezuko-chan has a really cool brother," she said trying to lift the mood.

"Yes! Tanjiro's a really good brother! Nezuko is so lucky to have Tanjiro! I bet every wants a brother like him!," one of the other girls agreed making a small murmur of agreement pass through.

Yes...Nezuko was lucky to have such an amazing brother like Tanjiro. Anyone would be lucky to have a brother just like him. They all knew it... It's just a shame they couldn't have a brother like him, and Tanjiro wasn't related to them anyways. He was a really good friend however.

"Zenitsu, you're going to marry Nezuko-chan aren't you?" One of the girls asked curiously tugging gently on the blonde's sleeve careful to not jostle his still healing injuries.

Zenitsu was certainly surprised at the sudden question but still gave the girl a soft smile. "Yes, that's right!"

The middle girl who had asked the previous question hummed in thought and rubbed her chin. She was the only one who wore her hair down instead of in braids or pigtails. "But-...If you get married to Nezuko-chan, Tanjiro-san would be your brother-in-law wouldn't he?"

Zenitsu paused, blinked, before shrugging. "Well yeah. But that's not a problem with me. Do you want to know how our wedding will be?"

A silence had fell upon the others. Whatever else Zenitsu and the butterfly girls said was lost to the other four as at least of them went blank. Eyes wide open as a realization of what was said before them rang true in their heads.

"Tanjiro-san would be your BROTHER-in-law right?"

Right....

.... right-....

"WHAT'S A BROTHER-IN-LAW?!," Inosuke demanded looking confused by the term and three of his friends spacing off. "Can I fight it? I'll fight it and win!!"

"Calm down will you? Jeez! A brother-in-law is what you call a girl's brother when you start taking her out!"

Inosuke tilted his head at the blonde. "Are you saying I can get a brother just by taking out a girl?"

"Well...Yeah? I guess that's one way to put it. You weirdo."

"HA! The Great Inosuke then shall use this tactic from his underlings to extract this brother! If everyone else can get one then I will too!"

Zenitsu only deadpanned at him but couldn't get another word out as three familiar figures came around the corner. Aoi looking annoyed carrying a basket and the Kamado siblings. Tanjiro looked absolutely happy just carrying firewood joyfully and next to him just as joyful as her brother and more pretty was Nezuko. Laughing at something her brother said. Zenitsu instantly gushed out seeing her, Inosuke still proclaimed his soon to be victory, and meanwhile the three others remained silent. Staring. Idea swirling about in their heads taking glancing at one another

.... Maybe there actually was a way to gain a brother like him.

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heroes-of-olympus-next-gen · 11 months

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Hi!!

I really love your work

Could you write a more intimate percabeth reunion in the argo 2 .

Just them cuddling together , afraid of what's to come and just reassurance .

🙃

I hope you enjoy this <3

Don’t leave me

Annabeth was still trying to fully grasp what had happened in the past few hours. They had reached New Rome and Percy was finally back to her. She didn’t want them to ever be apart again. She had just finished showering when someone knocked on her door. “Yes?”

The door opened slowly, only to reveal her handsome boyfriend who was all she could think about in the past 6 months. “Hey, Wise Girl. Can I come inside?”

“You don’t have to ask that.” Annabeth patted the mattress next to where she was sitting. Percy still smiled the same way which made her feel more at ease. She was afraid that things would be different between the two of them, but Percy was still the same person she had fallen in love with.

He sat next to her, and pulled her closer to him, closing the gap between them. Their fingers intertwined and he placed his free at the nape of her neck, caressing her skin until their foreheads were touching. “I really missed you.” He said with a raspy voice.

Annabeth was feeling her eyes water. That’s all she had wished for the past few months. Just to have him close to her, holding him like he was her lifeline. She couldn’t even talk from how overwhelmed she was. There was a moment she had thought that she wouldn’t see him again. That it would be like when he disappeared before the battle of the Labyrinth, but she wouldn’t see him again. His fingers wiped the tears from her cheeks. “It’s fine. We’re fine.”

“I don’t want you to ever leave me again.” She whispered as she sat on his lap. “Never. I won’t be able to handle it.”

“I’m never leaving you again. Even if it means going through hell with you.” Percy reassured her. “You and I are a team. You’ve played on your own for too long. You are never going to be alone again. I can’t control the future, but I can promise you that I’ll be by your side.”

She kissed him until she felt like she couldn’t breathe anymore. “Good thing, because you aren’t allowed to leave me again.”

“You’ve been strong too long. Let it all out. You’re safe now.”

Percy’s words hit Annabeth right in her core. He was the only person who could make her feel safe like she could let him in the walls she had built for herself. She rested her chin on his shoulder as he rested his head on her pillow. She didn’t want to let him go, and she wasn’t going to. Screw Coach Hedge and his stupid rules. Percy wasn’t going to leave her room. Even being in the end of the corridor felt suffocating for her.

“Do you think, we’ll survive this? Gaea and all that stuff?”

“I am sure, love. Because I have big plans for the two of us.”

“Really? Like what?”

“We can come stay in the West Coast. In New Rome there is a university that I’ll probably manage to get in while you study in Berkeley because you are so smart. I don’t know what I’ll study but I’ll figure this out later.” She had put her head on his chest, feeling the vibrations of his voice all over her body.

“And then?”

“Then, I’m going to marry you. We’ll move back to New York so that we can be close to Camp and my mum. You’ll have your own Architectural firm while I take care of the kids.”

“We have kids?”

“If you want to.” Percy was playing with her hair. “And we’ll have a house in Montauk where we’ll move after retirement. I’ll be sitting on the porch all day and you’ll be doing a new project every day because you love being busy.”

Annabeth had closed her eyes, feeling her fears getting blocked by Percy’s voice. “More.”

“You’ll probably redesign half of Manhattan and when we’ll walk through the city and you’re admiring the buildings, I’ll be saying to random people that you designed them and because you are down to earth you’ll blush and pretend like it’s nothing. And I’ll be immensely proud of you. No matter what.”

“I wish I could have found you sooner.”

“I wish I could have come crawling back to you.”

#hoo #pjo #percy jackson #annabeth chase #percabeth

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ocmakerofcanada · 3 months

Text

【Alejandra the Chimera Axolotl Official Profile】

Name: Alejandra

Age: 14 - 16

Pronouns: She/Her

Height: 4’3

Birthday: June 21

Zodiac: Cancer

Birthstone & Flower: Alexandrite & Honeysuckle

Favorite Pizza: Seafood Pizza

Weapon: Macuahuitl

Nationality: Latina 🇲🇽

Personally Inspiration: Luz Noceda, Isabela Madrigal, Nimona, Ryuko Matoi, and Gwen Stacy

Headcannon Voice: Sarah-Nicole Robles ( Luz Noceda - The Owl House ) mixed with Diane Guerrero ( Isabela Madrigal - Encanto. )

《Abilities》

Gillactor

Using her feathery gills, she could easily mimic sounds. Just like a mayan death whistle

Flexibility

Since she has a small, skinny, slippery body with long limbs, she could easily be as flexible as a pro-gymnast

Rejuvenation

If she gets hurt or loses a limb or tail, she could easily heal herself

Truejuvenation

This is a power she gains from her weapon, but works as a once in a life time sort of thing. Similar to being Rejuvenated, but more powerful as her form changes to be slightly more monsterous, but doesn't change her height

「Charcter Arc」

Throughout the series, Aleja is seen as a bit of a troublesome gremlin. Always screwing around with the turtles and messes up with their mission so that she could take over or simply just do it out of spite to annoy them. However, the poor thing is just lonely. She was scared that people would not accept her at all, so she would take the job as a vigilante and take part on night patrols so that maybe she could be seen in a good and better light.

However, in the movie, when she got in the way in stopping our heros and their new friend from getting the key back from The Foot Clan, she was unaware of the danger that would be unleashed upon them. The Krang were released upon eath, and the turtles along with an injured Splinter, April, and Casey jr were forced to flee after they lost their powers. But this is where things change compared to the movie. Instead of getting the key, Leo would actually listen to Raph, giving Aleja ( who was somehow lucky to still have her powers ) an opportunity to retrieve it herself just to prove herself that she was the true hero here. That's when the Alligator Snapping Turtle would save her before she could be killed by the Krang, and sent her back to the others in his pod. ( Hence why she had his badge/button in a previous design, which she would still keep on her )

And so, Aleja would make a truce to get Raph back, and everything is pretty much the same thing as the movie. And then, there's that one scene in the movie that's going to be a real gut punch in this retold version...

When Leo sacrifices himself, Aleja would have a flashback to when Raph almost died saving her. She couldn't let the Red-Eared Slider die in the Prison Dimension. So she would quickly find a way inside before Casey jr would close up the portal. She would try to fight off The Krang for as long as she could, as well as getting her butt kicked in the process, but she would reveal something big. Something that was heard by the team back on Earth. The thing is, not only did Aleja wanted to be a hero too, but she was actually inspired by the turtles to be one after she had seen one of their battles. But she had a grudge because they had the only two things she never had; Friends & Family. She then told Leo that she wouldn't be where she was without his family, and thanked him.

Eventually, Mikey was finally able to use his mystic hands with the help of his brothers to make a portal to save Aleja & Leo. And as everyone healed overtime while the city of New York was being rebuilt in the aftermath of the invasion, Aleja had finally reached her redemption and befriended the turtles. Seeing them as the family she never had before.

～。• Spinoff。•～

Aleja would have her own spinoff that takes place after the events of Season 2 and The Movie, and it would mostly be about her and her own little adventures. Meeting old and new characters, and following her path to becoming a hero. She would even have flashbacks to before she was ever Mutated too…

#rottmnt #rottmnt retold #rottmnt retold au #rottmnt au #rottmnt oc #oc #au #retold au #retold #alejandra the chimera axolotl #oc profile #oc background #background #profile

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zzoguri · 17 days

Text

finger trapped (ripped to its seams) ➵ ji changmin

ji changmin x reader

with an unexpected reunion, you and changmin relive the memories of cheongju—and confront what could’ve been between you two.

general genre/warnings ➵ friends to almost lovers, angst, fluff, gender neutral reader, some depressive and insecure thoughts, hurt/comfort, the last five years story-telling method (aka present will be told going backwards while past will be told moving forward... i hope that makes sense), brief mention of blood from picking on your skin, tiger parents so... parental issues, unexpected reunion, keeping secrets & lying, jealousy remains but love triumphs, journalist reader (u kno i had to do it), reader is a nerd and changmin is a student-athlete, kms jokes from jongseob (all /lh), finger traps aren’t efficient after all

word count ➵ 15.7k words

a/n ➵ it's finally out! this is my submission for @deoboyznet's the love letter collective event! this work is so so personal to me on so many levels so i hope you all love and treat this fic with care :')) for the bitches who struggle with parents and dreams.... this one's for you (i am in the same boat) i appreciate everyone who's been so patient and looking forward to this fic's release. i'd like to thank @hcuyk for being a betareader for this fic! i also want to dedicate this one to @sungbeam and @wavesmp3 <3 your works inspire me so much and i think this fic is a product of how much they've influence me. hanbin's version is now available! please don't forget to reblog and leave feedback!!

want to be part of my taglist? send me an ask! masterlist

present -> three weeks after the interview, 2024

but the newsroom is rarely busy unless there’s a major nationwide event, election season or the super bowl to name a few, for most journalists are out to discover what the world has to offer.

knowledge doesn’t only come from the chitchat of your coworkers. it’s only on the field that you’ll hear of hearsay and testimonies. after all, the choice to probe rests on your shoulders.

“there’s a typo over there.”

“huh? where?”

“over here,” you mumble as your finger darts to point at a section on the screen. “it’s supposed to say “in their climactic performance on road to kingdom,” not climatic.”

“there we go. should be all good. now, are you ready to go through the profiles?”

an exhausted chuckle departs from your lips. “yeah, let’s go—”

“what’s the update?” life and arts editor kim namjoon—your editor—comes to you with a smile.

“we just finished going through the article about the group, so we still have yet to go through the profiles.” jihoon then looks at you. “i can’t believe you basically wrote 12 articles. like, 11 profiles and one main article is a lot. you didn’t want to work on it with anyone else?”

once namjoon stands beside you, you bump your shoulder against his figure. “i didn’t have a choice, did i?” it’s a rhetorical question but one your editor still chooses to answer.

there’s no time to waste in the journalism industry. still, his praise doesn’t go unnoticed.

it should’ve been easy to keep up with your editor for all the other articles; you know each profile like the back of your hand.

then, the face of a boy who you once knew sits on the screen.

and suddenly, the hands of the clock have turned all the way back to 2014. the cubicles transformed into aisles of chips and instant ramen, and you hear mr. kim’s voice in the distance—i have some hotteok! fresh from the pan! but amidst it all, you hear the giggles of the boy, your best friend, as he rushes towards you—i’ll go audition and make you proud. as your arm is wrapped with the heat of his fingers, you almost believe that your life as a journalist is nothing but a dream—

“i knew him.” the illusion disappears within a blink of an eye. namjoon’s eyes snap towards you and jihoon stops scrolling through the website. “we went to the same high school.”

for the remaining articles, not a single word leaves you. before you know it, all 12 articles were ready to go up on the web.

“that’s all of it. should i still schedule them to go up around 12 p.m.?” jihoon notes as he saves the drafts.

“yeah, 12 p.m. still sounds good. thanks a lot.” namjoon nudges his shoulder before looking over to you. “let’s talk in my office.”

once namjoon takes a seat on his chair, you find your spot across from him. his eyes stare off to the window. for a moment, you’re not sure what to expect from this impromptu meeting.

seconds pass and not a single word has been said—

“this place’s always alive,” your editor breaks the silence. “don’t you think so?”

you follow his line of sight. busy seoul never changes; the skyscrapers pollute the sky and the people never sleep, off to work or off to party.

“where’d you grow up again?”

you look back at namjoon whose eyes still remain locked on the city. “cheongju.”

he hums. “i haven’t been there. nice place?”

“yeah, but i haven’t gone back in a while.”

“when was the last time?” his eyes finally meet yours.

your teeth grasp the inside of your cheek. “2014, since i first left,” you admit.

“do you miss it?”

“is that why you were hesitant about interviewing them?” namjoon’s thumbs fiddle with each other. “because of your history with him?”

now, you stare at your linked hands. maybe the silence from you is enough to answer his question but you know namjoon would never settle for a soundless answer.

“it’s okay, i understand. you don’t have to share it with me.” your eyes drift back to namjoon, spotting a small smile that rests on his face. “it must’ve been hard to relive it all.”

“so, don’t feel pressured to talk about it. but if you ever want to open up about it, then i’ll be here.”

namjoon’s giving you an exit. are you willing to take it?

you cross your arms as you lean back into the chair. “you know how i was a science major then?”

“yeah, i remember looking over your resume. and then i saw that you were part of your university’s publication.”

your tongue pushes against the inside of your cheek. “i would’ve gotten some job in that field, like, i had it lined up for me.”

“really? like lab coat and all?”

namjoon nods at your words. “care to have lunch with me?” your eyes snap back to your editor. “i’m guessing you want to talk about it, after all.”

all you do is smile before getting off your seat.

spring of 2014

the season of spring has graced cheongju; the sun gleams in the expanse of blue and birds perched on tree branches sing their songs. it’s the perfect season to embrace the wonders of the town.

while it would be a delight to bask under the returning warmth, you’re stuck within the walls of the classroom, head resting on crossed arms.

still, the lilacs have yet to bloom.

“y/n.” you quickly sit up before your eyes settle on your adviser, ms. jeon, who stands in front of the classroom. “let’s take attendance.”

“ji changmin.” no response.

you rip your eyes off the piece of paper, only met with your classmates who either look at each other in confusion or spaced out in their own worlds.

“ji changmin?” when you’re met with the same reaction, you’re ready to mark the student absent—

“sorry!” the doors slam open. a boy clad in a white polo and jogging pants is panting by the entrance, covered in sweat as he rests on the edge of it. “sorry, i’m late.”

ji changmin made his name a few years back at a competition. the applause and roars from the crowd marked his spot in the school. others describe his movement as of cranes, standing in the middle of a pond as they do their best to minimize forming any ripples, or of elephants, swaying their trunks with control like no other.

but he’s a versatile dancer; nothing can truly capture him.

once you’ve finished marking the attendance, you go back to your seat. you’re ready to start the day with no bother but you can’t shake the feeling of being watched.

within a split second, students are off their seats as they attempt to find a partner to work with. you, however, were struggling to think of who you could team up with. admittedly, you have a very different work style compared to others—even cheng xiao, aspiring valedictorian, didn’t enjoy working with you. she turned every activity into a competition against you. (you didn’t enjoy her, either.) while you’re considering shamefully going up to your classmates like a stray dog looking for anyone willing to care for them—

“hi!” in front of you stands the tardy student of today, all smiles as his hands find comfort in the pockets of his jogging pants. “do you have a partner already?”

with furrowed eyebrows, you can’t help but look him up and down. “no, why?”

“well,” changmin looks around the classroom, “everyone seems to have paired up except for us.” as his eyes drift back to you, he flashes you a smile, one that shows the dips engraved into his cheeks. “which leaves me to ask if you would like to work with me for this.”

“unless we accept a failing mark, which i’m sure we both don’t want.” it’s not like changmin had a choice as well.

his eyebrows shoot up as his mouth parts open. “o—oh, yeah. i usually have training after class until 8 p.m. on tuesdays, thursdays, and saturdays.”

“same. my classes are until 7 p.m. on tuesdays and thursdays, so maybe we can use the other days to work together?”

with one nod from him, his dimples reappear. “great! i’ll see you tomorrow.”

before you know it, everyone finds their way back to their seats for ms. park’s final reminders. you do your best to pay attention to every announcement, jotting down every word on your planner and planning out your agenda for the upcoming weeks. yet, your eyes seem to have a mind of their own as they drift back to the boy who discreetly passes notes to kim donghan, another dancer on the team, all while listening to the teacher.

you don’t notice how long you spend staring at changmin until he turns to meet your gaze. in that split second, you look at each other—then, embarrassment washes over you. you shift your attention back to ms. park. as you drum your fingers against the desk, mentally kicking yourself over the interaction, you still can’t shake the feeling of being watched.

you look back at changmin; he’s still looking at you.

his dimples make their reappearance before he looks back at ms. park. you do the same as you attempt to listen to her ramble about banksy’s works.

(you’re still thinking about the dips in his cheeks.)

the first time you get to meet with changmin for the project happens the following week. you two had different commitments to attend to, whether it be other projects or training. and while you would usually settle to meet in the school library or a cafe nearby, you find yourself inside the empty gymnasium, sitting on bleachers while your partner stands in front of mirrors.

“don’t you think it would be nice to combine our hobbies together?”

your pencil taps against the notebook. “like, your dancing? with what?”

“whatever you like to do!” once he makes his way to you, he leans on the row in front of you with crossed arms. “i mean, do you have anything you like to do during your free time?”

a scoff leaves you. “funny of you to assume that i have free time.”

“what’s your schedule like?”

“well, i have our classes and ap ones, then kumon at night.”

changmin reels at the thought of your schedule. “that’s brutal. the last time i had kumon was back in grade 4.”

a shy smile takes over his features. “yeah, but it’s only because my family is supportive of what i do.”

you only muster out a hum.

“do you have anything you like to do during those short breaks?”

your lips trill. “i don’t know. watch something on youtube?”

his cheeks puff up, stuck in his thoughts as he tries to navigate this project—and you—until his eyes glint. “what do you do when you want to vent?”

“you sure have a lot of questions,” you comment, trying to hold back a chuckle at his curiosity. “i can just adjust to you. maybe attempt to draw, picture, or even film you.”

his eyebrows furrow. “but that wouldn’t make it collaborative. i want us to work on something that aligns with what we do.”

a beat passes.

he holds your gaze. “i want us to create something that shows us.”

inside you, a gong is struck; its sound reverberates throughout your body, from the crown of your forehead to the tips of your toes. then, silence seeps in—a moment only for you and him.

“i, uh, write,” you whisper as your eyes shift to the notebook resting on your lap.

“really? like, stories and poetry?”

you nod. “i like writing people’s stories more, but i do like making ones.” when you look back at changmin, his eyes are still filled with curiosity. “i would, like, find interviews online and try to make my own, sort of, uhm—god this is embarrassing. forget about it.”

“that’s an interesting way to look at it.”

“what if you interview me?”

your eyebrows shoot up. “you?”

“yeah,” he stands up before walking up to your row, finding a spot beside you. “think of me as your first interviewee if you want.”

the sudden suggestion has you stumbling over your words. “huh? b—but, i don’t have questions prepared. and how does this help our project?”

as you think about what can be done, you perch your chin on your palm. “we can do papercut art? basically, it’s cutting up the article in a way to form an image.”

“oh, that sounds cool!”

“yeah, but the only challenge is that we can only use one piece of paper.” a sigh leaves you. “it would be impossible for me to even do that.”

“that’s why you have me.” his small smile causes wind chimes to ring. (you’re positive you heard them, even if there were no such things in the gymnasium.)

“you’re just as creative,” he argues back as he writes down something.

you shake your head before retorting, “changmin, you’re very talented. i’ve seen the way you dance,” his movements halt, “and you’re like no other dancer i’ve seen. if you ever try out to be an idol, i’m sure you’d do great, maybe end up on the list of the best dancers in the industry.”

but he shakes his head, going back to writing on your notebook and shutting down your compliments. you decide to not push.

“i can get the photo sometime during my training,” he says as he hands you your notebook.

“then i can have the questions sometime this week. for the article, i can have it done maybe four days after the interview. how does wednesday, after school, sound for the interview?”

he shoots you a smile before standing up from his seat. “that’s perfect! i’m looking forward to meeting journalist y/n.” you can’t help but scoff at what he calls you. “what’s wrong?”

“nothing,” you shake your head. “it’s just a silly name.” because the reality is that you had your future planned out—and it definitely didn’t involve that field.

he shrugs. “i don’t know, i think it would fit you.”

“but you haven’t read any of my works.”

“but i want to root for you in the same way you do for me. i don’t want you to feel ashamed of your works.” a fire ignites in your heart; it’s a fireplace.

you’re baffled that changmin, out of all people, now holds your secret, but you’re even astounded over the idea of him supporting you. you almost can’t remember the last time you heard such words of support. is it genuine or nothing but a facade?

the season of spring has unfolded in cheongju; a single lilac has bloomed.

present -> a day before the interview, 2024

the spice of tteokbokki, the burn of freshly fried hotteok, and the sweetness of homemade peach iced tea—mr. kim’s convenience store had it all.

your tastebuds long for cheongju.