sanccharine

[sanccharine]

happy bts day !

[sanccharine]

OH MY GOD YOU GENIUS !! WHY DIDN'T I THINK OF DIPPER AND MABEL

dude i appreciate the comments and i will properly process them when i'm not sleep-deprived, but i love your galaxy brain so fucking much. dipper and mabel tattoos, oh i'm going to cry, thank you !

04 | bad luck

single parent au, neighbours au 

pairing: single parent!san x reader   genre:  word count: 1.5k

warnings: the cheating ex jumpscare

summary: 

status: ongoing  a/n: thank you katie (@panda-writes-kpop) for motivating me to write, everyone say thank you! that being said this is a rough chapter... you can thank them for that too <3 i kid though, it is rough, no san or danbi i'm afraid

masterlist | chapter 3 | chapter 5

It was too much. 

Too much. 

The weekend is almost over and what have you accomplished? 

After the encounter with San, it was hard for you to do anything. Not to mention just turning back into your house brought you to the sight of the horrid living room and just everything it meant. In addition, your mother called again. You didn’t pick up. Perhaps she’d called to ask how the bedframe was coming along, which in reality was a mess of planks and screws in your bedroom. 

Thus, it was another night on the couch. 

Even as you closed your eyes, you could feel your forehead overheating like a decade-old laptop with an overworked cooling fan—dysfuntional at best, beyond repair at worst. 

There was so much to get through. Everything with your house, the unpacking, setting up your home, what was supposed to be shared with your then soon-to-be spouse had just fallen right through your hands. Now there was sorting the mess that was left behind. 

You were grateful that you weren’t actually married, divorce lawyers and a court hearing and the like would have just about ended your life. But then, you were stuck in this weird limbo where nothing has stopped but yet nothing is moving either and it makes it all so very frustrating.

That’s not taking into consideration how people around you will take to the news. How much longer could you continue postponing your calls with your parents? How much longer could you convince yourself that you lied to your mother successfully? How much longer until your father has the chance to say he told you so? How long could you stall until you prove that your hardwork, whatever that meant or whatever it was, was all for nothing?

Your life merely an empty point, taking space as you work through the slog for the sake of it. 

And then to tie it altogether, there was your neighbour. A mounting one-sided dislike based on interactions that barely lasted a few minutes. You could feel it. That itching and clawing in your throat, the irrational torrent of thoughts which were borderline corrosive, all of it so immature. Unfortunately for him, San was at the wrong place at the wrong time, prodding a dormant mine in a forgotten field. 

Every sentence, every thought, every notion that arises around him has to be deliberated. Filtered, even. He was one more knock away from instigating a breakdown, of what nature was anyone’s guess. 

Deep down, you knew he was merely a scapegoat. Taking out your anger, your shame, your regrets on an innocent man who just so happens to be in the vicinity. You needed to avoid him. If not to hurt his feelings, then to at least preserve your dignity. 

So that is what you did. 

Sleep escaped you. Ruminating on every single mistake was preferred to your mind, and there you were, locked on your couch. Your eyes drooping without ever closing, your body overheating, almost feverish, as the sun rose. 

For the better part of the day, you stayed on the couch, almost comatose. Then there came a moment when hunger was unbearable which forced you to get to the kitchen to grab something from the fridge. Though it was nothing close to a meal. Just something to satiate the pain you felt in your stomach. 

By the time the sun had set, your mother called again. You declined the call. 

You tried building the frame again. The frame fell apart. 

You sorted out your clothes. His joined the rest of them on the floor. 

The sight was horrendous. Overwhelming. 

Too much. 

It was far too much. 

When you inhaled, your breath hitched, the beginnings of a breakdown you couldn’t afford. 

It was there. 

Almost. 

Then your doorbell rang. 

Your attention turned to your door, an exit point that seemed to grow further away with every second you stared at it. When your feet didn’t move from their spot, the door bell rang again forcing you to wade through the mess that was your living room to get to that door. 

Please don’t be San. 

Please.

Your pleas were answered but at a deadly cost. 

The moment your door opened, your heart dropped to your stomach. 

“Let me explain,” he said but you were already shutting the door. 

But much like last time, he caught the door to prevent it from shutting. 

“I’m sorry,” he tried again. His voice, the nerve of it to warble like he had any right to be in tears. “I made a mistake. I was wrong—just let me speak, will you?”

Along with his hand, he now had a foot in the threshold. But you blocked most of the entrance to your home with your body, your weight on the door. You were not letting him inside. He had no right to be here. 

“I need to explain—”

“No, you need to leave,” you said, leaning on the frame, not giving up on the fight with the door. 

Simply put, your ex-fiancee looked haggard. An image you have not been privy to since the rough final nights of your university years. His hair was a mess, far removed from the gelled back pristine look he usually wore to his office. His eyes were red-rimmed, like he’d lost sleep. Looking at him made you bring your hand to your own, fearful of how you might look. Then there was the matter of his clothes, which were oddly tight in all the wrong places. He’d probably stayed over at his friend’s place for the last two nights before making his way over here again. 

There was just a small sense of comfort of him being stranded and naked. But it was short-lived. 

“I know you like space after we fight, I didn’t want to call—didn’t want to give you some time, to process, to think over,” he paused his rambling for a moment to catch his breath. “To reconsider what you said.”

Fight? Process? Reconsider?

“Us,” he added, reading your mind flawlessly. 

That’s what happens when you spend years with someone. They tend to learn every small detail of how you tick. They learn your little quirks, the microexpressions, the words, the silence. They become a walking instruction manual on how to put you together. Which just so happens to be the manual that allows them access to completely tear you apart.  

He was right. Annoying as it is, he was right. 

You liked your space. Especially after fights. You needed the time alone. To process what was happening, what you were feeling, only so you don’t explode violently. And he’d done just that. Give you space. Now that you think about it, you don’t remember any calls or texts from over the past twenty-four hours. Not that your memory serves anything, considering you ignored most of your calls and texts… but he really hadn’t reached out. 

Because he knew. 

He knew you. 

“I’m sorry.” 

You wished you could say he looked or sounded insincere. But it was that small voice of his, shaky and barely there as he said those words that made you feel a mixture of things. But he must know what you were thinking. 

“Please don’t end this.” 

He uttered the words and you let them float in the air for a moment. 

Here he was, begging you to reconsider the relationship—not that it existed anymore—when you don’t even know why you were even listening to him. 

“You ended it.” 

“Don’t say that—”

“You ended this!” your voice was a hoarse scream, fracturing in real time much like a magma cracking solid rock. “You did this!”

Your ex raised his hands, taking a step back, a feeble attempt to placate you, not that he ever could. He’d miscalculated, both on how hot your anger boiled and his leverage on the door. Taking the chance, you slammed the door so hard the frame rattled. 

Just in time too, because burning tears fell down your cheeks, endless since no amount of wiping them away dissuaded them. Unable to do much than pace around your house, you hoped the action will, plus the tears, will tire you out. Your ex still remained, forgoing the doorbell for his fists. You don’t know what was worse. 

Wait him out, that was all you could do, but even after twenty minutes you could hear your ex’s rambling. In your frantic pacing, you missed the glint on the messy ground of your living room. 

Swearing, you pulled up your left foot to check the sole. Hard metal had been crushed underneath, cutting into your skin and considering your house was a mess of nails, you were not in the mood to contract tetanus. 

You still had some luck left in you. A screw hadn’t lodged itself into your skin. You turned your attention away from the impression on your skin to the silver on the ground. 

No.

Wrong.

Your luck was still depleted. 

Your wedding band, the one you’d hurled previously, made itself known. Mocking you. 

A hiccup left you, all mangled between a sob and a cough. 

When a faint buzzing was heard, you clamped a hand over your mouth. It was incessant. 

And worst of all, there was a knock on the door. 

It was too much.

any feedback is much appreciated.

a/n: say you and your best friend get a tattoo together, what tattoo would it be ? personally i was thinking my little pony cutie marks but then it has to be character appropriate you know ? and yes this question definitely has to do with the fic, i need ideas :]

masterlist | chapter 3 | chapter 5

taglist: @eternallyghosting  @marvolos  @dawn-iscozy  @vannerriin

send an ask to be added !

[sanccharine]

04 | bad luck

single parent au, neighbours au 

pairing: single parent!san x reader   genre:  word count: 1.5k

warnings: the cheating ex jumpscare

summary: 

status: ongoing  a/n: thank you katie (@panda-writes-kpop) for motivating me to write, everyone say thank you! that being said this is a rough chapter... you can thank them for that too <3 i kid though, it is rough, no san or danbi i'm afraid

masterlist | chapter 3 | chapter 5

It was too much. 

Too much. 

The weekend is almost over and what have you accomplished? 

After the encounter with San, it was hard for you to do anything. Not to mention just turning back into your house brought you to the sight of the horrid living room and just everything it meant. In addition, your mother called again. You didn’t pick up. Perhaps she’d called to ask how the bedframe was coming along, which in reality was a mess of planks and screws in your bedroom. 

Thus, it was another night on the couch. 

Even as you closed your eyes, you could feel your forehead overheating like a decade-old laptop with an overworked cooling fan—dysfuntional at best, beyond repair at worst. 

There was so much to get through. Everything with your house, the unpacking, setting up your home, what was supposed to be shared with your then soon-to-be spouse had just fallen right through your hands. Now there was sorting the mess that was left behind. 

You were grateful that you weren’t actually married, divorce lawyers and a court hearing and the like would have just about ended your life. But then, you were stuck in this weird limbo where nothing has stopped but yet nothing is moving either and it makes it all so very frustrating.

That’s not taking into consideration how people around you will take to the news. How much longer could you continue postponing your calls with your parents? How much longer could you convince yourself that you lied to your mother successfully? How much longer until your father has the chance to say he told you so? How long could you stall until you prove that your hardwork, whatever that meant or whatever it was, was all for nothing?

Your life merely an empty point, taking space as you work through the slog for the sake of it. 

And then to tie it altogether, there was your neighbour. A mounting one-sided dislike based on interactions that barely lasted a few minutes. You could feel it. That itching and clawing in your throat, the irrational torrent of thoughts which were borderline corrosive, all of it so immature. Unfortunately for him, San was at the wrong place at the wrong time, prodding a dormant mine in a forgotten field. 

Every sentence, every thought, every notion that arises around him has to be deliberated. Filtered, even. He was one more knock away from instigating a breakdown, of what nature was anyone’s guess. 

Deep down, you knew he was merely a scapegoat. Taking out your anger, your shame, your regrets on an innocent man who just so happens to be in the vicinity. You needed to avoid him. If not to hurt his feelings, then to at least preserve your dignity. 

So that is what you did. 

Sleep escaped you. Ruminating on every single mistake was preferred to your mind, and there you were, locked on your couch. Your eyes drooping without ever closing, your body overheating, almost feverish, as the sun rose. 

For the better part of the day, you stayed on the couch, almost comatose. Then there came a moment when hunger was unbearable which forced you to get to the kitchen to grab something from the fridge. Though it was nothing close to a meal. Just something to satiate the pain you felt in your stomach. 

By the time the sun had set, your mother called again. You declined the call. 

You tried building the frame again. The frame fell apart. 

You sorted out your clothes. His joined the rest of them on the floor. 

The sight was horrendous. Overwhelming. 

Too much. 

It was far too much. 

When you inhaled, your breath hitched, the beginnings of a breakdown you couldn’t afford. 

It was there. 

Almost. 

Then your doorbell rang. 

Your attention turned to your door, an exit point that seemed to grow further away with every second you stared at it. When your feet didn’t move from their spot, the door bell rang again forcing you to wade through the mess that was your living room to get to that door. 

Please don’t be San. 

Please.

Your pleas were answered but at a deadly cost. 

The moment your door opened, your heart dropped to your stomach. 

“Let me explain,” he said but you were already shutting the door. 

But much like last time, he caught the door to prevent it from shutting. 

“I’m sorry,” he tried again. His voice, the nerve of it to warble like he had any right to be in tears. “I made a mistake. I was wrong—just let me speak, will you?”

Along with his hand, he now had a foot in the threshold. But you blocked most of the entrance to your home with your body, your weight on the door. You were not letting him inside. He had no right to be here. 

“I need to explain—”

“No, you need to leave,” you said, leaning on the frame, not giving up on the fight with the door. 

Simply put, your ex-fiancee looked haggard. An image you have not been privy to since the rough final nights of your university years. His hair was a mess, far removed from the gelled back pristine look he usually wore to his office. His eyes were red-rimmed, like he’d lost sleep. Looking at him made you bring your hand to your own, fearful of how you might look. Then there was the matter of his clothes, which were oddly tight in all the wrong places. He’d probably stayed over at his friend’s place for the last two nights before making his way over here again. 

There was just a small sense of comfort of him being stranded and naked. But it was short-lived. 

“I know you like space after we fight, I didn’t want to call—didn’t want to give you some time, to process, to think over,” he paused his rambling for a moment to catch his breath. “To reconsider what you said.”

Fight? Process? Reconsider?

“Us,” he added, reading your mind flawlessly. 

That’s what happens when you spend years with someone. They tend to learn every small detail of how you tick. They learn your little quirks, the microexpressions, the words, the silence. They become a walking instruction manual on how to put you together. Which just so happens to be the manual that allows them access to completely tear you apart.  

He was right. Annoying as it is, he was right. 

You liked your space. Especially after fights. You needed the time alone. To process what was happening, what you were feeling, only so you don’t explode violently. And he’d done just that. Give you space. Now that you think about it, you don’t remember any calls or texts from over the past twenty-four hours. Not that your memory serves anything, considering you ignored most of your calls and texts… but he really hadn’t reached out. 

Because he knew. 

He knew you. 

“I’m sorry.” 

You wished you could say he looked or sounded insincere. But it was that small voice of his, shaky and barely there as he said those words that made you feel a mixture of things. But he must know what you were thinking. 

“Please don’t end this.” 

He uttered the words and you let them float in the air for a moment. 

Here he was, begging you to reconsider the relationship—not that it existed anymore—when you don’t even know why you were even listening to him. 

“You ended it.” 

“Don’t say that—”

“You ended this!” your voice was a hoarse scream, fracturing in real time much like a magma cracking solid rock. “You did this!”

Your ex raised his hands, taking a step back, a feeble attempt to placate you, not that he ever could. He’d miscalculated, both on how hot your anger boiled and his leverage on the door. Taking the chance, you slammed the door so hard the frame rattled. 

Just in time too, because burning tears fell down your cheeks, endless since no amount of wiping them away dissuaded them. Unable to do much than pace around your house, you hoped the action will, plus the tears, will tire you out. Your ex still remained, forgoing the doorbell for his fists. You don’t know what was worse. 

Wait him out, that was all you could do, but even after twenty minutes you could hear your ex’s rambling. In your frantic pacing, you missed the glint on the messy ground of your living room. 

Swearing, you pulled up your left foot to check the sole. Hard metal had been crushed underneath, cutting into your skin and considering your house was a mess of nails, you were not in the mood to contract tetanus. 

You still had some luck left in you. A screw hadn’t lodged itself into your skin. You turned your attention away from the impression on your skin to the silver on the ground. 

No.

Wrong.

Your luck was still depleted. 

Your wedding band, the one you’d hurled previously, made itself known. Mocking you. 

A hiccup left you, all mangled between a sob and a cough. 

When a faint buzzing was heard, you clamped a hand over your mouth. It was incessant. 

And worst of all, there was a knock on the door. 

It was too much.

any feedback is much appreciated.

a/n: say you and your best friend get a tattoo together, what tattoo would it be ? personally i was thinking my little pony cutie marks but then it has to be character appropriate you know ? and yes this question definitely has to do with the fic, i need ideas :]

masterlist | chapter 3 | chapter 5

taglist: @eternallyghosting  @marvolos  @dawn-iscozy  @vannerriin

send an ask to be added !

[sanccharine]

14:44 | gh

hogwarts au

pairing: gryffindor!gahyun x hufflepuff!reader genre: fluff, slice of life word count: 2.6k

warnings: none that i can think of :]

a/n: technically this is a part of mishaps gone right (specifically chapter four during training) but you don't need to have read the series. which begs the question if i add this to that masterlist or not HFKJSDFH

“Yeah, I get that, but why do I have to be there?”

Grinning ear to ear, you threw an arm around Yeosang’s shoulder, tugging him to your side. Your other hand raises to pinch his cheek. “Because you’re my best friend! And also because you love me.” 

Yeosang hissed at your roughhousing, shoving your hand away from his cheek. Not that it did any good since you kept coming back, giggling like a toddler. Your steps merged into one, even with your shuffling, as you poked his face, trying to pull his frown upside down. 

“Both those statements are questionable.”

“Nah, you love me,” you tittered, the words in a sing-songy voice as you dragged him to the Quidditch field. In response, Yeosang only shook his head as he did often with your antics and gave up trying to pry you off him. 

It was a sunny afternoon, surprising considering it was already getting colder. Most people were already in their winter robes and uniforms, but you still had your scarves and gloves and beanies locked away. 

Normally, after your classes you didn’t make it a habit of venturing to the Quidditch field. Not that you weren’t a fan, you’ve enjoyed a few friendly games yourself. But you’d rather take up space in the great hall fishing for snacks to appear or lounge about the courtyard before the snow froze the ground solid. 

It was just that you'd heard a little birdie say that certain someone would be spending their time here today. 

Which was strange considering you didn’t think this would even be in their selection of places to be, especially when they have time off after the school day ends. No, you’d imagine the pair of them would lock themselves in the library, poring over books instead of roaming the castle with you. Six years in and you were still trying to convince them there’s things they can learn outside of books. 

Though that conversation never got you anywhere, your friends, Yeosang included, would rather have their noses pressed into musty old books. Chuckling at the image, you patted Yeosang on the back, who let out a disgruntled huff at the action, as you pointed out the Hufflepuff stands. 

“Classic,” you smirked before taking Yeosang’s hand and rushed up the stands. 

By the time you reached the level you wanted to get to and ambled down the row, you and Yeosang were out of breath. Plus it seems the Slytherin team were already starting their training, though it appeared they were having a simple race around the field. You recognized their Beater pair as they weaved underneath the mass of Slytherins, spinning on their own. Having fun as it were, you let out a whoop at the sight, but your call was cut short when Yeosang kicked you in the shin. 

“Have some decorum,” Yeosang tsked. His eyes narrowed at you, but as well as the Beaters, as he slumped into a seat. 

Normally, you’d keep up with his attacks. The sort of banter you two have mastered which colour your loving friendship. Not that Yeosang would confirm it as such, but you knew better. He loved you and you were his bestest bud!

What stopped you was the soft laughter, bubbly and warm, a sound you yearn to hear often. One you wish were the cause of. Something like a goal of yours. 

“Are you okay?” Gahyun asked in between her laughter and you practically melted. For a moment, you just looked at her, your injury forgotten and your smile returning to mirror hers. 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she raised a brow, a silent question and you nodded. Your usual demeanour returning, you patted off your clothes and straightened. Sending her a wink, you turned to face her instead of the field, leaning on the back of the seat behind you. “Nothing I can’t handle, you know I’m stronger than that.”

At that Gahyun snickered, her hand coming up to cover her mouth as she did and you… you just watched her while a warmth bloomed in your chest. 

Though, the feeling was quickly snuffed when Yeosang gagged, the exaggerated noises of retching even too much for yourself. Awful coming from such a pristine face, one that was usually statuesque in its expressions. This time, you returned the kick to the shin to stop him. 

Yeosang tried to kick you back. By some miracle, you happened to be the only person who manages to break through the brick wall he called a personality. Easily devolving him into an insolent child. Though both of you were interrupted by a new voice. 

“Why are you two here?” Tzuyu’s nose peered up from her textbook and the sight brought back your grin. She was so predictable. 

At that, you and Yeosang shared a look. Knowing. 

“We could ask you the same question,” you said, folding your arms. Gahyun’s gaze caught yours too, her lips twitching from keeping her smile suppressed as the three of you waited for Tzuyu’s answer. 

Instead, Tzuyu huffed and straightened her posture, in that ramrod way of hers. The polished spotless prefect badge on her robe label caught the sun, turning the glare to you but you just leaned back, still waiting. 

So Tzuyu pivoted in the way she knew best. Her eyes scanned, much like a teacher would, marking you down for all your imperfections and spat back her grade. 

“Roll down your sleeves and straighten your tie,” she gave you another once-over. “Tuck in that tail of yours, too.” 

And this was the other person you managed to crack—a crack through that mask of steel she’s perfected to an art. Whether it was a light twitch of her mouth, the drawing of impression on her forehead, that glassy faraway look in her eyes. Blink and you’d miss it but you brought it out, amplified it. She let you but it was still a win when you could make Chou Tzuyu avoid answering. So your grin only widened as you followed her instructions. 

“That good, Professor Chou?” you stood up and gave her a little twirl so she can appraise you. “Or are you gonna dock points from your own house?”  

“Answer the question, Tzuyu,” Yeosang said, his voice soft though not even that undercut his demand. Tzuyu shot him with her usual glare, not that it had any effect on him. The pair of them were awfully close for how similar they were. But if Tzuyu listened to anyone, it was him. 

“I came to study—”

“At the Quidditch field?”

“During practice!”

“With Slytherins, eh?” you finished after Yeosang and Gahyun. 

Glancing over your shoulder, you pinpointed that Slytherin Beater on the field who’s been recently orbiting Tzuyu as much as she’s been orbiting them. Rumour has it they were getting all cozy in the secluded corner of the library. Not that you’d ever vocally say you heard such a thing. One, Tzuyu would strike you down where you stood and you did not have a death wish. Two, she’d hunt down everyone that spread such a thing in some strange personal battle. Plus, rumours twist and are so far-removed from the truth, so it didn’t matter, because again, you valued your life. 

“It’s light reading,” Tzuyu backtracked and you scoffed. 

With a conspiratory look, you glanced at Gahyun as if to ask if she was hearing this. Gahyun just smiled and shook her head, asking you to drop it. 

“She helped them cheat.” 

While Gahyun was asking you to stand down silently, Yeosang dropped the factoid as if he were simply stating the weather. No fanfare at all. No contempt at all. Toneless as he just observed Tzuyu. Waiting for her next move. 

“I didn’t do anything like that, stop lying,” Tzuyu mumbled out after, “this is why I don’t tell you anything.” 

It couldn’t be helped. You and Gahyun just giggled as the other pair had another one of their silent glare-offs. When it seemed neither would back down, you decided to drop it altogether. Clapping your hands together, you brought the attention back to yourself and took a seat beside Gahyun. 

“What’s the light reading on?” you asked Tzuyu, though you were looking at Gahyun. After a nod from her, you threw your hand behind her seat and settled in. 

Tzuyu shut the textbook and showed the cover to you. Taking a moment to appraise the cover. It was generic looking with a confusing and long-winded title. You wracked your brain for what this was for in terms of required reading, usually you had better memory than this. 

“Transfiguration?” you asked for confirmation from Yeosang. He had everything memorised to a perfection. When he nodded, you frowned. “Were we supposed to read it? I don’t remember seeing it on our list.” 

“No, it’s extended reading.”

“So, optional,” you corrected Yeosang before looking back at the cover. Something about it was familiar. You know you’ve perused it, that’s when Gahyun added more clarification. 

“It’s from last year,” she settled back in her seat, her usual bubbliness dropping for a moment as she reached out and tilted the book to show you it’s back. Now, you remembered. “It’s the summer reading Professor Lee gave us, you’ve read it.” 

Nodding, you looked at Tzuyu. “Why are you reading it again? Isn’t it filled with basic non-verbal theory, you know it already.” 

“Just a refresher,” Tzuyu said, oddly calm, “can’t hurt.”

No, you supposed it never hurts. But it was these things that confused you about Tzuyu. In fact, all of your friends. Tzuyu with her piles of references. Yeosang with his obsessive memorization. Gahyun with her corridor-long parchments filled with diagrams. They’ve all found ways to turn the curriculum on its head. But how did reading the books over and over again help them practically? Especially when you know they’ve mastered these spells. You were piecing the case in real time, just about a critical question when a thunderous crack sidetracked your train of thought. 

All four of you turned to look at the bludger headed straight for you. 

On instinct, the arm behind Gahyun wrapped around her head to push her to your side. Your other hand was fumbling for your wand, a difficult task when seated. It seemed Yeosang had the same issue. But it was too late. Instead, your other hand gave up and grabbed Yeosang’s robe instead and pulled as you braced for the bludger to hit. 

For the second time, a deafening crack resounded through the field. Loud enough you jolted in your seat as if struck by lightning. Loud enough that your ears rang for a moment. This was going to bloom into a horrible headache later in the day, you just knew it. 

Scrunching your eyes to wean off the ringing, you gently pulled back from where you’d huddled to Gahyun, your hand still pressed over the side of her face. 

The first thing you did was give Tzuyu a onceover past Gahyun, she seemed frozen, her gaze steely while her hands clutching her textbook until knuckles protruded from her skin. But she was okay, unhurt. 

Sighing, you look at figures pressed to your chest and loosened your hold on her. Gahyun looked at you when you whispered. “You okay?” 

Or you think you did, your hearing was still returning to you. She mouthed her thanks, maybe spoke it, and nodded. 

Sighing, you looked to Yeosang next and his hand was on yours. His uniform slightly askew from when you’d tugged him to your side as well, but he was unhurt as well. That’s all you needed. 

You were still reeling from the ringing when a new voice entered. 

“Listen, I’m so sorry, Tzuyu.” 

Your attention tilted to the student floating above you. The Slytherin Beater. 

Everything clicked. 

And Yeosang's glance at you confirmed it. He’d update you later. 

Yeosang began fixing up his uniform, the silent manner of collecting himself. While you pulled your arm from Gahyun, focusing all of your concern on her. The whole scenario, barring the near-fatal threat and the dizzying attack to your eardrums, was quite ridiculous. You decided it was time to drop all of this seriousness and gain a little levity. 

“That was super heroic, right?” you ask, the startings of grins happening as Gahyun let out a chuckle. “How I protected you like that?” 

For effect, you threw your arm around the air, mimicking the action. Eager to see how she’d react, you did it again and Gahyun’s grin only widened. You knew you looked silly but what did it matter. 

“Like super brave right? Did you swoon?” Gahyun let out another chuckle, before shoving your shoulder playfully but you caught her hand, keeping her close. “Come on, you can admit it! you swooned a little, maybe a lot?” 

Gahyun pressed her free hand to her face, her face blotchy with blush as she giggled that laugh of hers that made your heart somersault in your chest. 

“Don’t you think I deserve something?” you asked, a whisper, much more muted than the previous questions, too taken by her laughter. She mumbled for you to stop making her laugh. “I almost died being your knight in shining armour and all, come on, give me something.” 

The pair of you were in your own world. All too reminiscent of when you’d sneak away from history classes when you were younger. Only when you’d managed to convince her that you had something to show her. And even then, she knowingly relented to see the most mundane findings of yours, only to spend a minute longer with you. The stolen seconds at the edge of the grounds, far too close to the forest, or at the entrance to a forgotten hallway that neither of you had any courage to enter. All just to make her smile. 

“Stop, seriously,” she giggled, eyes full crescents and ears all pink as she shoved you lightly again.  So ridiculous, but she was grinning. That was a win. 

On the verge of saying something even more ridiculous, you stopped when the Slytherin’s voice filtered in again. Only because they were calling to Yeosang. Almost like a premonition forced you to speak out, to intervene but Yeosang was quicker. 

“No.” 

You let out a dejected sigh at his answer, blunt and short as always. You would have berated him for being so, maybe even settle this strange dynamic and assure the Slytherin that there was nothing to worry about. But when Yeosang grabbed your sleeve and lugged you up, your resolve faltered, instead wishing to spend more time with Gahyun. 

The latter won out. 

Clutching to your seat, you try to get out a farewell, something to get her to laugh out again. You knew it wouldn’t be hard, but Yeosang’s aggressive tugging was a significant obstacle. Instead, you send her one last wink before Yeosang manages to snag you away from Gahyun. 

You manage to wave goodbye to Tzuyu before stumbling over your feet and clipping your thigh on a chair. Giving Yeosang a light shove for his wrangling, you stomp on after him. 

By the time the pair of you had made it down to the ground and exited the Quidditch field, Yeosang seemed to have relaxed. Pocketing your hands, you look at his profile as the pair of you walk on the grass. 

His steeliness gave way to a pinched expression, something else was bothering him and you had a faint idea of what it could be. Since it worried you as well. 

Both of you were slow today. 

Sighing, you asked in a serious tone. “Duelling practice after dinner?” 

Yeosang only nodded.

any feedback is much appreciated.

a/n: just realising nothing happens in this one lol, hope you have a good day/night :]

tagging: @someone-who-likes-broccoli  @eternallyghosting

[sanccharine]

everything’s GNARLY 💚 #KATSEYE

[sanccharine]

02:14 | ys

pjo au

pairing: son of hecate!yeosang x child of galatea!reader 

genre: angst

word count: 2.5k

warnings: mentions of death

a/n: once again, thank you percy jackson. also galatea is a nereid, a sea nymph. it’s too fun to explore minor gods and other beings from the myths hehehe. mind you this is a year old, rotted away.

The moment their pathetic row boat docked itself onto the fine golden sand, Yeosang knew something was wrong. 

After days on the rocking sea, solid land was a haven, but this was an illusion. One foot in the sand and it was as if his vision cleared. The fineness of the sand grains beneath his feet, the crispness of the leaves, the dew shimmering on flowers too vibrant to be true. No, it couldn’t be real. This island bled magic from every living form. To Yeosang, the magic was thick, suffocating… familiar. 

The first thing Yeoang did was turn to his questmate. To his chagrin, San was already gorging himself on a fruit that had fallen. Yeosang bit back a scowl. Of course, the pair of them had lost their backpacks, their food, their map, their money. And having escaped by the skin of their teeth from Charybdis, they’d been stuck paddling uselessly. Dehydration and exhaustion and hunger could do that to a person. 

But if you learn anything from old myths it's that you don’t eat strange fruit found on strange islands. Not unless you plan on staying here forever. 

Did San not feel the immense magic rippling in tidal waves from the island? Surely, he was smarter than this—

“Eat,” San threw him another fruit he'd grabbed. 

Yeosang dodged the fruit, watching the bright magenta thing fall at his feet into the sand, practically reflecting the sunlight back at him. It would’ve been tempting, if it didn't look so unnatural. 

“You need to stop eating them, we don’t know what could happen—what rules this land—”

“You haven't had food in days, one more spell and you’re useless,” Yeosang bristled at San’s harshness. His mouth being full with juice and pulp lessened the weight of the blow but he was right. 

Ever since the death of his satyr, Yeosang has barely been functioning. 

He knew. Of course, Yeosang knew that he had returned back to the land. The circlet of lilies that formed when he’d passed meant he’d reincarnated, rooted to the woods. No name, no gravestone, but still home. 

And yet, Yeosang’s hands were itching to practice necromancy again. Why did he have to keep losing people? It was an awful pull, necromancy, not that it worked when you’d been lost to sea. A year back, he’d pored over his spells and books then, much like a mad man. Now, it called to him again. Repeatedly, he recalled his spells to bring about the satyr that had found him when he was young, even if it were just conjuring up their form out of illusion. But he knew it wouldn’t work. Forms were easier when there were souls… not when reincarnated. One lost to sea. One lost to land. 

But then, he thinks of the line in the prophecy; What was one lost, now returned.

Whatever that was lost, Yeosang could make sure they returned. He has to. 

“Yeosang,” San called out his name again, wiping the juice dripping from his mouth with his sleeve. He was rough around the edges, but he cared, Yeosang knew he did. San’s tone changed, now a little softer. “Maybe you’re right, but do you have a choice right now?” 

San threw him another fruit, this time Yeosang did catch it. 

“Eat… please.”

Yeosang stood straighter, studying the fruit in his hand. Finding the shimmering sheen on the outer skin inviting… but he couldn’t. Not until he knew it was safe. 

His mother would loathe him if he showed weakness here.

When you’d been asked to serve the two young men who’d washed up on shore, you’d groaned. In the year you'd been on Circe’s island, you found that you were rather happy tending to many sea creatures that washed up on shore instead. Rejuvenating them with genuine care and then throwing in the occasional spa-like treatment brought you some odd sort of happiness. 

It was peaceful here. 

Welcome.

Accepting. 

Home.

Initially, it didn’t feel so. 

The first few weeks had been the worst. When the oceans had brought you here instead of turning you into foam, you’d been confused. Land, again? Was this another trap in the form of a blessing? That had been your thinking. You were sure you’d return to the sea, where you belonged. Not on land. Not at camp.

But your visit to Aeaea had been much better than you’d expected. 

Circe welcomed you with open arms, fed you, clothed you, sheltered you… and you were sure it came with a price. You couldn’t trust her. And she… merely seemed to be entertained by your constant worry, though she did nothing to give you any reason for suspicion. What settled you was when she’d offered your shoulder bag from camp, still filled with your drachma and ambrosia and that damned necklace of beads that seemed to haunt you. 

She didn’t need to say a word. Circe made it clear. Her option. 

Aeaea or camp. 

Stay or leave. 

You’d shoved that bag under your bed to collect dust. 

Then guilt replaced suspicion. That necklace under your bed, somehow burning through the plush mattress and bronze frame. Visions of land you could never call home. Flashes of that beach by the hills every time you welcomed foolish pigs by Aeaea’s sands. 

The worst of it was the memories of the people. The children of the gods, young and old, bright-eyed and weary. The satyrs and the dryads, and mostly the nymphs you found yourself drawn to. That centaur that made it is his job to keep you welcome despite how out-of-water you felt there. 

That warm pair of eyes, a veneer of naivete which hid a sight that saw all. 

Those which convinced you belonged. 

There, with him. 

Yeosang caught sight of you the moment you appeared. 

There was that burning sensation again, something you haven’t felt in a year, clawing up your throat. 

He’d changed so much in a year, from what you remembered. In your memories, he always seemed to glow in a moonlight reflected by the warm waters of the beach, a light neither of you could share. Warm even when everything seemed cold, unreal. 

But now you saw him as he was. Eyes tired and sunken, cheeks hollowed from hunger and dehydration. He was ragged and mistrusting, blinking as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Colour left his skin further, you didn’t think it was possible. Then, you noticed the way his hands twitched, lips opening and closing while his eyes darted around you—those were his tells, obvious to anyone paying attention. A silent study. To conclude if you were real or a cruel trick played on him by his mind. 

The breaking point was that necklace, that damned one everyone wore, to show your years, your struggles and triumphs. Yet his was barren… except for a singular pearl. 

You looked away. Not wanting to see that thing. Not wanting to see him. Not wanting to even acknowledge the other demigod who choked on air. 

No, your attention was on Circe. 

And it was as if you were transported to a year ago. 

This time, two demigods in place of your shoulder bag. 

You hadn’t said a word. After placing the tray and serving them, you’d practically run. Trembling, you’d been trembling like some fool as you plated their meals, not daring to look at them. But everyone knew their fates. Yeosang and San did not take a single bite. 

Whether they eat or not, Circe would turn them into pigs any moment and all you could do was run. 

What you didn’t expect was Yeosang to follow you out. Circe had let him. 

Within minutes, he’d caught up to you. His hand shot out to wrap around your wrist, pulling you closer with a sudden burst of strength. Something about seeing you seemed to ground him again after being lost for so long. 

Yeosang balked when his hand clutched yours, as if he couldn’t believe it. Then a light set ablaze in his eyes—a glimmer that had you stepping back but he didn’t let go. 

He mouthed your name once. Then again, as a whisper. 

“You’re real… it is you!” 

And then he did something even more strange. 

He hugged you. 

It was an embrace so tight you wondered how he even had the ability considering he looked so brittle now. He pulled back to see you, his eyes doing that darting thing again, mouth whispering as if to dispel an illusion even though there was none. 

It was nauseating. How distraught he seemed. How disbelieving he was of his own eyes. His gift. 

An apology was on your tongue. That guilt from a year ago returning but he beat you.

“You have to come back home.” Your lips shut close into a tight line, yet, he continued, “you have to join us on our quest, it’s supposed to be you who returns—the prophecy is about you!”

With each line, you tried to tug away from his grip, but his hold was unrelenting but the mention of a prophecy. Of home. The word soft like honey on his tongue, as if it didn’t haunt your every waking moment. Nothing had changed. 

He was still that boy who tried to convince you belonged. 

Shoving him back, you ripped your hand from his clutch. Something like hurt flitted across his features, softening him, before he started frowning again. 

“You need to leave, now,” you said, holding your wrist to your chest, that burning feeling growing. “Circe already must know of my—of this!” You gesture wildly between yourself and Yeosang. “Leave now, or stay here as a pig.”

Yeosang hadn’t let you go. He was convinced the prophecy meant you and he was adamant on bringing you back, how the quest would be completed, how they’d lost everything but you could fix it. Raving like some mad man, but you weren’t hearing him. 

So stormed to your room, knowing the one thing that could let you be. From under your bed, you dragged out that bag, somehow pristine even when it had been untouched. You searched through it, unsure what you wanted to keep from it, if any. But when your hand wrapped around the necklace of beads. You pulled your hand away as if burned when it felt around the silky smoothness of a pearl. Yeosang can keep it as well.

Like Circe, you gave him his choice. 

An hour or so later after that, you were back in the main hall. Once again, a tray rattling in your shaking hands. No amount of will can stable them. 

But hopefully, he’d listened. To you, when you shoved him away. To Circe, when she was merciful. Hopefully, Yeosang and San were far away from this island, sailing to anywhere as long as it is far away from here. From you. 

Circe knew. 

She knew it all. 

It was useless to be so frightened. And for how you’ve betrayed her, you’ll take the punishment she gives with open arms. Even convincing yourself of that, you couldn’t stop the fear seeping out of every pore. The porcelain clinked horribly as you placed them on the table. If Circe minded, she didn’t show it. 

“Here—”

“How do you like it here?” 

You stilled. 

“I don’t—I don’t know what you mean—”

“It’s been over a year since you arrived. Since you decided to stay,” Circe smiled in thanks and brought the cup of tea to her lips, taking a moment before sipping. “I am asking how it has been? How do you feel having spent a year under my care?”

“I’m grateful—”

“That is not what I am asking, my dear.”

You pursed your lips. Circe finally looked at you, her eyes a changing wheel of colors. Too fast to be recognized. 

“I’m happy,” you paused, that was not right. You tried again. “I am at peace.” 

Circe studied you like she often studied her animals, with a faraway look. 

“You need not lie, I won’t be hurt—”

She chuckled. Laughed. At you. 

“I’m not lying!” You snapped, probably not the wisest to do so at an immortal who had been far too generous to you. 

But then she laughed again. 

“I am happy here, at peace,” you start again, tone lowered in apology, “I mean it. You have given me food and shelter, a home. And I am grateful.” 

“But you wish to leave,” you start to shake your head but she only sighs. 

“I don’t know what I want.” 

What has changed in the year? Nothing. Once again, you stood still at the same question. Stay or leave. Aeaea or camp. Land or land. 

You hang your head in shame. “Lady Circe, I am sorry—”

“I understand, dear,” she said, softer than you’ve ever heard her. “And if you ever return, I will accept you again with open arms. If the waters ever lead you back to me, you are always welcome here.” 

“I’m sorry,” was all you could mutter. 

Every other word on your tongue seemed to choke, your throat refused to cooperate unless it was that whispered apology. That itching and burning returned and you know you were close to tears. 

Circe’s demeanour softened completely, her whole facade crumbling as her hand reached to take your own and she muttered her blessing. Her goodbye. 

The walk to the shore was one of silence. As if the island itself was mourning a loss. 

No birds chirped, no leaves sang in the wind, nor flowers bloomed, like the magic itself wilted. 

Yeosang and San were readying a ship provided by Circe at a request to wait. Their hands are full with things to keep them afloat. A new shining vigour. It only increased when Yeosang spotted you. 

“You came,” Yeosang said, his hand itching to take yours, to help you up onto the deck. He wished to provide some comfort, anything to make this easier for you. 

Though, you only silently boarded the boat. Hands empty unlike them, with nothing to your name and you sure as hell didn’t want to touch that bag of yours until you reached land again. With a sigh, you took a seat closest to the water and dipped your hand into the blue. 

Yeosang watched you quietly, his own hand coming up to toy with the pearl around his neck. The matching pearl burning in his pocket, hesitant to return it to you, hoping you’d wear it again. But he didn’t wish to push you. 

San stood by the steering wheel. He didn’t need to look at the pair to know what was going on in their minds. Mouthy as he was, even he was still reeling from the fact that you are not dead. So for once, he stayed silent and kept his comments to himself. Instead, he thanked the gods for their mercy, he thanked Circe for her gifts, and then made a note to himself to offer a sacrifice when he reached camp again. With that, he pulled away from the golden sand, their shimmer a little paler. 

As the boat picked up speed, sea foam formed by your hand. 

A tidal wave of power revitalizing you, yet none of it familiar. 

You turned back just as Aeaea disappeared from the horizon.

any feedback is much appreciated.

a/n: this was supposed to be different and more but i wanted it OUT. i'll read it over later and find like a bajillion errors but oh well. anygays hope you have a good day/night :]

tagging: @someone-who-likes-broccoli  @eternallyghosting

[sanccharine]

01:37 | ty

pjo au

pairing: daughter of demeter!tzuyu x child of hephaestus!reader

genre: action 

word count: 1k

warnings: descriptions of injuries and violence

a/n: finally wrote something and visited tumblr lol, everyone say thank you percy jackson. actually it's thank you to @panda-writes-kpop @neon-city-dreams @foolish-clown @kingmaker-a for motivating me to write, yippee :]

The moment Tzuyu realized there was no fight, she shoved her satyr behind her. “The entrance, find it!” 

The satyr lost colour, horror mounting as he shook his head. In his defence, asking to find an entrance to the labyrinth by pure scent when a horde of reptilian monsters were marching towards you was a big ask. 

Tzuyu turned and shoved him again, her features pulled tight as she ordered. “Go!” 

Unable to make an argument for himself, he cursed and turned tail, his goat legs carrying him much faster down the rocky terrain than either yourself or Tzuyu. Which seemed to be the next plan, as she grabbed your hand and ran. 

Every few seconds, she looked over her shoulder—that stare of hers you’ve seen so many times when playing capture the flag, when friendly competition became war for honour within a matter of seconds. When she took things a bit more seriously than she needed to, but this was an understandable situation, you only feared what order she’d bark at you. 

“At my mark, you will torch down the first line, okay?” Tzuyu screamed over the winds rushing past us.

“What?” You screamed back, nearly tripping over a rock, your shin getting clipped but you managed to keep running. The question wasn’t because you hadn’t heard her, it was more the fact that your supposed fire powers have dwindled down to pathetic sputters. “You know I can’t—”

“I’ll help you,” and with that harshly, she turned, somehow skidding to a stop and faced the avalanche of dracaena. 

Nearly a hundred, maybe even more monsters of serpent legs, a mixture of green, brown, and yellow scaly skin. Both slithering and running down the terrain at an alarming speed. A tangle of reptilian limbs with no end who seem eager to spill your blood, hissing with joy at the thought of it. 

Tumbling to a stop yourself, you turned to face the wave of dracaena, unable to fathom a way to defeat them all. But Tzuyu had said the first line… but even then how were you blasting them with fire at such a distance? You’d be blessed if you could manage a lick of flame. 

Tzuyu looked over her shoulder, searching for our satyr who circles a tall rock formation. His hand grazing the jagged surfaces for something. Tzuyu nodded and kneeled to the floor, one glance to you told you she needed you ready at her will. 

So you did your best to conjure a flame. Every snap of your finger pulling a spark, warming up your palms and bubbling up your blood just enough. Each click seemed to bring the monsters closer and closer. 

Tzuyu, uncaring of the clusters of rocks on the ground, wiggled her finger into the dirt. Almost searching for something. With the snaps of your fingers counting the seconds, she waited, waited, waited until the first dracaena hit the slight dip in the terrain. Tzuyu clawed at the dirt and mass of land, directly in front of the monsters cleared of rock as if tugged and slanted. The dracaena went down thrashing, an ugly green coiled mass of serpent limbs. 

You watched with your mouth agape, one hand still snapping as now flames tickled the tips of your fingers. 

“Why did you do that?” you shrieked, but still not horrified enough to distrust whatever Tzuyu was thinking off. 

While the monsters were now not on their feet, they didn’t really lose momentum, instead they were speeding up, headed straight for you, ready to roll you flat to the ground at any moment. 

That was when the satyr called out. “Found it! Found the entrance!” 

A tree root shot out of the ground next to you, nearly poking your eye out, you stepped back both hands fully aflame. 

“Are you out of your mind?” is the question you would’ve asked, but were stopped short when another root erupted from the ground much larger than one by you. 

More vines and thorns and woods spilled out from the ground at an alarming rate, slithering up to the monsters much like they had to you. Tzuyu’s eyes were glowing, a faint green tint to them as she muttered something under her breath. Something like an apology before she turned at you, casting that godly glow at you. 

“Now,” her voice was weak, distorted and hoarse. You could only imagine the power seeping out from her as she managed to wring up more vines now, the first line breached by the monster collection. 

You understood her. You understood her apology. You knew who it was for. 

Raising your hands, and with much strength as you could muster, blasted a torch of flame. Warmth arching and coiling much like her vines, as they caught the wood, and bursting alive, spreading much faster than you could predict. 

The hissing was the first indicator of a job done. The nauseating scent of burning flesh was the mission accomplished. 

The sight was horrendous. Spindly trees and vines and thorns, skeletal looking and strange in this rocky terrain, all dancing in the wind as flames engulfed them along with the dracaena. Their mass of reptilian limbs, erupting in golden dust as the flame burns brighter. 

With one last sputter, you put out the flames around your hands. The wall of fire and woods and serpent was still rolling towards you, and you didn’t want to be there for it when it reached you. Tzuyu was hunched over the ground, her eyes still emitting a faint glow yet she looked anything but godly. 

Her forehead dripping with sweat, the heat getting to her more easily than yourself. Her flat and sticking to her face as she gripped the dirt, coughing like she’d smoked a whole pack at the last minute. Words were useless to her, so you grabbed her by the waist, dragging her away from the ground. 

Usually, she’d put up a fight, but she just crumpled in your arms as you pulled her back with you. Much like her, the roots she’d erupted seemed to dwindle, but it didn’t matter because the satyr was waving to you, a dark cavern opening into the ground just by the foot of the rock formation. The entrance to the labyrinth. 

You took one last look at the burning mess of woods and flesh as the satyr flanked to Tzuyu’s other side to hold her up. 

If Tzuyu’s mother hated you before… then you might as well be dead in Demeter's eyes now.

any feedback is much appreciated.

a/n: this was literally written in the last hour and i'm severely out of practice with writing so rip. also will probably add title and banner to fit with the rest of the pjo collection but who knows when that will come anygays hope you have a good day/night :]

tagging: @someone-who-likes-broccoli @eternallyghosting

[sanccharine]

03 | the neighbourly thing

single parent au, neighbours au 

pairing: single parent!san x reader   genre:  word count: 2.7k

warnings: swearing

summary: 

status: ongoing  a/n: she has a name !

masterlist | chapter 2 | chapter 4

After your run in with your neighbour, you brushed away the sight of his timid smile. There were more pressing concerns that needed to be addressed. 

The start of the weekend, you started with more motivation than you expected. Starting from the moving boxes labelled ‘Living Room Items’, you unpacked. Though considering how barren your house had been, you’d barely had time to consider where each item would actually go. So instead of being stuffed away in your boxes, trinkets and small furniture littered your living room floor. 

Deciding that decorating the living room was too big of a task and something you could tackle later, you moved to the kitchen. Besides, it wasn’t like you’d be inviting anyone over any time soon. Unpacking and setting the kitchen was a much more successful endeavor. Placing most of the cooking utensils and instruments in their desired places, you dumped a few plates and bowls in the dishwasher. Starting the machine, you exited the kitchen to navigate your way through the living room mess. 

Now, you want to cook. Or well, you were hungry. However, your kitchen cupboards are empty apart from a few spices and essentials. At least while you’re completing this huge task, you’d like a better meal than a microwaved cheese sandwich, all soggy bread and unmelted cheese. Grabbing your coat and keys, you exit your apartment. 

While there was no certain meal in mind, you bought what you would usually buy. Some vegetables, a few fruits as snacks, and some meat. There was a general idea of food and it will have to do. 

You were staring blankly at the wall of instant noodle packages, in a deep debate with yourself if you should bother stocking on emergency noodles when a familiar voice brought you out of your trance. 

“Good afternoon!” she chirped up, and despite yourself, you found a small smile growing on your face. 

“Afternoon, kid,” you said, turning to her. 

This time she was in a purple shirt and denim overalls, her hair in pigtails with… well, who would’ve guessed? A dinosaur charm. The mere sight of it seemed to lift the heaviness in your chest. The sight was comical, but you appreciated that she was so consistent with her interests. 

When she didn’t start the conversation, you decided to take initiative for once. “Your parents send you to collect stuff again?” 

She shook her head. “Nope, I’m just here to get a juice box before heading to the playground with my friends.”

“Alright, you do that, kid,” you nodded and turned your attention back to the noodle packets with a sigh. 

“And you have a good day,” she said. “Adult.” 

Once again, you brought your attention to her. The little girl was barely holding in her giggles as you blinked at her. Then with a small smile, you sighed. 

“Very funny, kid—” she broke into a fit of giggles, all doubled over and clutching her tummy. 

Pursing your lips into a thin line you watched her with mild amusement. Adorable. 

There was something about her demeanour that just seemed to disarm you so easily. From the first interaction to every other one since, even if it only happened in the span of a few days, you looked forward to catching her and having your strange conversations. Strange because you never felt like the type to entertain children, or bother with them really. Perhaps, you were more soft-hearted than you’d imagined. 

Sighing at her still giggling figure, you tell your name. Your voice was small, almost hesitant. Though, once she recognized what you were doing she was grinning back at you. 

“I’m Danbi!” she extended her hand out and you took it, giving it a little shake. “But can I still call you an adult?” 

You don’t see why not, she clearly gleaned some sort of amusement from it. When you shrugged in response, her smile widened. 

“You can call me kid.” 

“Deal,” you nodded. “I gotta finish my groceries, but I’ll see you around, kid.” 

She chuckled, hands covering mouth and all, as if the pair of you were sharing a secret. 

“See you around, adult,” she waved and skipped away, not before releasing another bout of giggles. 

Honestly, you didn’t find it so entertaining but it seemed to make her happy. Children were so peculiar, you thought to yourself with a smile. 

Grocery shopping had been a quick task once you decided on the noodles dilemma. You got them, of course. For the sake of trying to settle your mind just slightly, you decide to explore the large gated community. There were more buildings than you could count on your hands with the hub for your needs situated in the middle. There was a large station for restaurants, groceries, and health support. The playground however was situated centrally to the buildings, along with a pool. 

It was hard not to search for that little kid that you’ve come to see over the last two days. Your momentary breath of fresh air from what seems to be the worst weekend of your life. 

Danbi was sprinting across the playground at breakneck speed. The little critter was quick. She was laughing at the top of her lungs while reaching a bright pink pole and tapped it thrice before jumping up and down. Some form of a tag game, you assumed. Her friends shoulders sagged at the sight, but she only giggled before dragging them over to the nearby benches and pulling out juice boxes for all of them. 

So the juice boxes weren’t only for herself but also her friends. Her parents must be really proud of the star they’ve raised. 

Smiling at the sight, you turned the path to your building, steeling yourself to the state of your house. The elevator ride was a quick, asocial one. You were grateful for that. Though, your luck didn’t last long. 

Just as you shuffled your grocery bags to one hand to reach for your key card, the door behind you opened. Automatically, your body froze, as if staying still would make you invisible. Of course, that is not true. 

“Good afternoon,” that faceless voice said and you internally sighed. 

Clearing your throat, you threw an awkward smile over your shoulder. “Afternoon,” you said. 

The first thing you really noticed was the warmth on your neighbour’s face. And you really didn’t know how to describe it, the feeling it stoked in your chest was almost some sort of burning… irritation, perhaps? Of course, all of your interactions with this man have been disjointed. You’ve never fully seen his face, until now, and his greetings and acts of kindness have been brief. And lastly, you definitely didn’t forget his little smile when he held the door open for you to garbage chute last night. 

Besides, you were in the strangest headspace. You were trying to strong-arm your way through your relationship breakdown. You weren’t looking to chat up neighbours. 

But unfortunately, this was undeniable. This man—your neighbour—was good. 

At whatever surface level, you could sense it. That is if your internal compass of goodness meant anything, you knew it he was good even with no solid evidence. And while that ticked you off slightly, it stumped you even more. 

Giving him a slight nod in greeting, you turned back to your door, swiping the key card quickly. The automatic lock flashes green before the clear click of unlocking could be heard. 

And at the same time, your neighbour opens his mouth. 

“Heading back from grocery shopping?” he asked, the tone gentle and well… friendly. 

Closing your eyes for a beat, you collected yourself. You could get through this. 

Then, with that same awkward smile you turned to face him fully. Your neighbour's warm smile widened just by a fraction, as if he was grateful you spoke to him. It was important to note, and again, unfortunate for you, that he didn’t seem overbearing or pushy. He didn’t seem eager to do anything, almost as if this was just a normal conversation he was having with any neighbour. He was just being neighhbourly. That is all. 

That gave you no valid excuse to not indulge him. Or at least, it felt that way. 

“Yeah, meal prepping for the week,” you shook the bags in your hand a bit, forcing a chuckle the same way you did the next question. “Are you heading out?” 

He nodded. “Visiting a friend in the western block to grab a drink.” 

“That’s nice,” you said almost flatly. This was so awkward, what were you to say to him? “Have fun.” 

“Thanks,” he said with that warm smile of his almost taunting you. There was something so familiar about him. Shaking his head, he sighed. “Actually, I wanted to apologize.” 

The words sent down a sense of dread through your body. 

He must’ve sensed it because the moment he noticed the tension, he pivoted, shaking his head more vigorously. “I just—I know you moved a few weeks or so back, but I just didn't have time to introduce myself.” 

Oh. 

Is that something people really worry about? You hoped your face didn’t express the confusion you felt. 

It was your turn to shake your head. “That’s okay, I’m pretty busy myself. Don’t worry about it.”

“Yes, but it’s the neighborly thing to do to check in on, well, your neighbours,” he chuckled, his eyes almost shining with that warm smile of his. “You know, help you get used to the setting and everything?”

You were trying your best not to narrow your eyes. Why was this random man blasting the charm on you? Or was he genuinely this kind? Surely not. It wasn’t his job to do anything, in fact, you preferred it when he barely interacted with you. Though, you didn’t say exactly that.

“You’re kind, but really, it’s no trouble at all,” you shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. “Fairly simple compound. Quiet, too.” 

“Still, I should’ve introduced myself earlier,” he said, softly tilting his head, his smile evening out into a more somber expression. “I’m San. Choi San.” 

And then he extended his hand, expectant. 

If you indulge him, this would be quick. 

Pocketing your keycard, you shake his hand and said your name. He repeated the words to himself, sounding out your name as he nodded. You took back your hand and just stared. Well, that’s introductions done. 

“You enjoy your drink,” you tried, hoping he’d get the hint this time. 

“Yes, and you, your groceries,” he said, looking down at his hand fidgeting with his own keycard. Then, he looked up at the last minute, almost hesitant. “If you ever need anything, just knock on my door, yeah?” 

Yeah, that’s a solid no. You will not be doing that. 

“Yeah, of course, thanks for the offer,” you smile. “Same here.” 

“Alright, you have a good rest of your weekend,” he gave you a two-fingered salute as he headed towards the elevator. 

“You, too,” you mumbled and hurried into your apartment. 

For some reason, you couldn’t bear to start in the living room. It was just too overwhelming. Your items, when packed, had been aligned by the nature of items, but now you wanted to separate your ex’s shit from yours but that would mean starting different piles. And that would technically mean at some point in the future, you’d have to see him again. 

You figured you’d come back to it. Again, it was not like anyone was coming in any time soon. 

Indulging in two packets of instant noodles for dinner, you started cracking on the bed frame. Honestly, a terrible idea on your part to start it so late in the night and then to do so without bothering to fully read the manual. Now you sat on the floor of your master bedroom huffing and puffing, screws and tools littered around you with a barely put together headboard. You figured you were in much better health, but attaching just two planks of wood had drained you out. 

Sighing, you pressed your palms to your eyes, hoping rubbing away the drowsiness would help. However, it was the knocking that snapped you out of your despair. 

Who could be knocking on your door at this hour? It was almost midnight.

Grunting, you stood up from the floor and dragged yourself to your main door. Evading the huge mess that is your living room, you cracked open the door just enough to see who it was.

Your neighbour. San. 

He was nervously checking back on his door, though it was closed, before turning to you. His stark black hair was tousled, invitingly soft as if he’d run his hand through it a million times. San was wearing a grey knitted cardigan, though it was askew as if hastily pulled over. Considering his checkered pajama pants, you assumed he was headed to bed before he decided to show up at your door, but made sure to look semi-decent before knocking. 

Though the expression from his face was far from tired. San’s eyebrows were pulled together, his fingers picking at his lips as he tried to formulate his words. Then with that low voice of his, he asked. “Is everything okay?” 

“Yeah–Yes?” you said, tone almost affronted, but you threw in a shaky smile to weaken your dormant irritation. “Why do you ask?” 

Biting his lip, San sighed. He didn’t believe you. 

“There were some noises, like something fell or…” San moved his hand to his arm, stroking his sleeve, almost self-soothing, “and I just wanted to check in if everything was okay.” 

You just stared at him. 

There might have been a few swear words thrown around when you dropped a heavy plank, completely miscalculating just how difficult it would be to lift it. And maybe, you had shoved your half complete headboard into the wall in frustration. This is not mentioning all the clattering throughout the day. 

Perhaps, you weren’t the most careful when you were unpacking. But you’d paid good money for this home, and you knew it was well-built. Figuring it was somewhat soundproof, you’d been pretty tactless. This was your own mistake. 

Plus, it was midnight. 

So this was a noise issue. 

“Oh, yeah,” you nodded, plastering on a genuine look of apology, “sorry about the noise.”

Well, that’s your first confrontation. Lots of firsts with your neighbour today. Wonderful. 

Though that didn’t seem to be the conclusion for San. His forehead wrinkled as he glanced around to stall. 

To convince him, you added. 

“I’m just unpacking and it’s hectic,” you throw another weak smile at him hoping it dissipates some of the awkward tension. “I’ll be more mindful of the noise. Again, sorry for the disturbance.” 

That should be enough. He can leave now. 

He didn’t. 

Instead, he sighed, pursing lips into a thin line as he deliberated. It was clear as day that the cogs in his mind were working full-time, you knew he had something to say or ask. Complain, perhaps. But it was beginning to get frustrating that he wouldn’t just spit it out—

“Alright, appreciate the apology.”

His tone said it all. San cut his losses and figured to not push. 

“Good luck with the rest of it,” he said and you shook your head. 

“I think I’m done for the night,” you tried your smile again but his expression of concern or worry or whatever pitiful look he wore didn’t seem to falter. Sighing, you tried again, “listen, I really am sorry—”

San shook his head, running a hand through his hair again. “It’s not a big deal, I just wanted to make sure you weren’t hurt,” he nodded, almost as if trying to convince himself. He could barely look at you. “Have a good night.”

Nodding, you parroted. “Good night.” 

Waiting until he was back in his house, you watched his door for a bit. Had you not interacted with people outside of work for so long, you’d lost touch. Or was this guy just strange? It was so clear that something else was bothering him. You’d have appreciated it if he just told you straight to your face that this whole interaction was a noise complaint. 

Shutting the door, you headed to the couch. 

Tomorrow. You will deal with all of this tomorrow.

any feedback is much appreciated.

a/n: next chapter is going to be rough y'all <3

masterlist | chapter 2 | chapter 4

taglist: @eternallyghosting @marvolos

send an ask to be added !

[sanccharine]

some people just have no true appreciation for terrible women. oh she killed and ate people? well maybe she was hungry. "I cant defend her anymore-" well then fucking stand aside so i can talk to my client

[sanccharine]

no fr, people asking 'are you okay? are you crying' and you say no and then just burst into tears anyway, its tough out here. and their mom is great (not me saying this as if i didn't create them)

im so glad you find the little girl cute, love her ! and she will get a name soon, i swear lol. we will also get more san soon, yippee !

thanks for the input, its such a dicey and awful situation, like breakup is one thing, but after being cheated on. sigh. but yeah, mom (and few others) will support them.

02 | first sight

single parent au, neighbours au 

pairing: single parent!san x reader   genre:  word count: 2.3k

warnings: swearing, parents could be pushy, also mentions of the cheating

summary: 

status: ongoing  a/n: really wanted to get this out so here it is. that being said, to any new people to this account, i suck at schedules so please do not expect timely posts on this series, love and peace on planet earth <3

masterlist | chapter 1 | chapter 3

“Hey.”

“Hey, hey—oh, sweetheart, we can’t see your face?” 

Well, yeah. You had your phone facing the ground. 

Biting down the groan, you looked around to locate the switch to turn on the living room lights. “Just give me a second, I’m doing something, I’ll just—” 

Fingers barely scraping the edge of the light switch, you turned on your knees, almost standing up at full height when you turned on the switch. The perks of earning money and designing the home you wanted was the fact that you installed dimmer lights. A warm welcoming amber slowly washed over the room, lighting up everything you hoped you wouldn’t see until tomorrow’s sunlight reminded you.

Moving boxes. Lone boxcutter. Discarded clothes. 

With a sigh, you took your place back on the floor and reached for your phone. 

“There you are!” your dad basically screamed, forcing you to push your phone far away from you and spam the volume button to lower the noise. 

“Here I am,” you groaned as you brought the phone back to show your face. 

You look like shit. 

“You look like shit,” your dad said, only to receive a smack from your mother. “What, it's true! Are you not eating? You look like you’ve lost weight. Is that husband of yours not feeding you—!”

His face blurred as the phone was yanked away from him and instead replaced by your mother’s face. 

“Not husband,” you joked as usual, though now more sardonic than ever before. 

“Yet,” your father added as he shoved himself back into the screen. 

For a man who could barely tell the difference between granulated sugar and powdered salt, you’re not surprised his poor observational skills extended to being unable to read the room. Or just identify emotions, for that matter. 

“That’s enough,” your mother said, standing up and moving away to another room but not before throwing your father a pointed glare. Your father protested, but he was far too lazy to actually follow your mother, so his voice died out when the door closed. With a similar sigh to you, your mother seated herself on your childhood bed. “Why are you on the floor, sweetheart?” 

If your father was as perceptive as a distracted toddler, then your mother was the exact opposite. 

Attempting to steer away from her question would be futile. 

With another sigh, you admitted. “I’m just tired I guess.” 

She pursed her lips. You could guess what she would say, but was stopping herself as you had asked her to do. At least one of your parents attempted to understand your boundaries and requests. 

Why don’t you buy a car?

“Why don’t you lie down on your bed?” 

That’s not a better question but you couldn’t fault her, she didn’t know your situation. Mentally shaking away your desire to whine, you answered truthfully. Or at least as truthfully as you could without revealing what just happened. 

“I don’t know, I just find the floor comforting I guess,” you attempted a small chuckle. It felt forced even to your ears. 

“You still haven’t set up the bed, have you,” she angled her question as a statement, if only to attempt to join in on your poor excuse. 

“No, I haven’t,” your words trailed off at the end, you couldn’t carry the light tone. Should you have said ‘we’?

“Did your fiancé not help?” 

You couldn’t look your mother in the eye. Instead, you stared past your phone and at the gray slacks on the floor. 

Your mother hummed a note of question before moving on. “Please set it up over the weekend, sweetheart.”

“I will.” You will. 

“I’ll let you go now. Eat dinner please before you go to sleep, order something if you have to,” she said, reading you as easily as a children’s tale. “Goodnight, sweetheart. I love you.”

Mumbling your ‘I love you’ back, you cut the call and dropped your phone to the floor. 

Dinner. Sleep. Work. Then the weekend. 

One more day before you could let yourself shatter into a million unidentifiable pieces that could never be put back together. One more day. 

You barely slept. The couch wasn’t exactly made for sleeping. And breakfast was a cereal bar you found at the back of your cupboard. It will have to do. 

Making sure you were somewhat presentable for a nine-hour shift, you exited your apartment. 

Just as you stepped out, you caught a glimpse of the person living opposite you. The briefest of images since he was turned away from you. The most striking feature being his broad back nearly covering the width of the door. His hair was a black tousled mess and matchingly he was dressed head to toe in black. Though, what startled you was his greeting. 

“Good morning,” his voice was low, soft, still groggy from sleep. And with that, he was in his apartment and locking his door. 

You stood at your door for a second, a hand on your door handle, the door waiting to be closed so it can automatically lock your apartment. Darting your gaze up and down the corridor, you come to the conclusion he was talking to you. So you did what anyone would do.

“Uh, morning,” although your greeting was to an empty door. 

Well, at least now you couldn’t say you never interacted with your neighbour. 

Shaking away your confusion, you made your way to the elevator and walked to the bus stop near your block. It was a short walk so the interaction was fresh in your mind. Though not for long. 

“Good morning!” a cheery tone greeted you, as you came to a stop by the bus station. You knew that voice.

In an instant, you were looking to your left. It was the young girl from last night!

“Nice to see you again,” she smiled at you, all wide and chipper. 

This time around her hair was in two braids on the other side of her face, tied up with carefully crafted purple ribbons. You doubted the bows would last the school day, though they did look adorable. Her school bag was almost more than half her size and you noticed the patterns of dinosaurs. They were hand-drawn, cartoon-like, so the dinosaurs looked a bit goofy, you supposed, but identifiable nonetheless. And the colours… were colourful, for sure, but the only thing that matters was that she likes it. So purple and dinosaurs are a favourite. Cute. 

The young girl was also holding a carry bag with containers of… cupcakes.  

“Uh, yeah, morning, kid,” you stammered much like you did with your neighbour. “Nice to see you too.”

“Did you sleep well?” she asked without missing a beat and you couldn't help but look around to check if she was still talking to you. 

No, not at all.

“Yeah, decent. You?” you asked out of politeness, still facing the road. 

“Could’ve been better, to be honest,” she chuckled to herself. “I think my father is more exhausted though.” 

“Oh, is that so?” What were you doing?

“Yeah, we were up all night making cupcakes! He stayed up much later though,” She shook the bag in her hands. Alright, they were cupcakes. 

“Oh,” you repeated as you stalled for a way to converse with a child. “Nice.” 

“Would you like to try one?” She was already reaching into her bag and opening the container. 

“Oh, no! No, it’s okay, you don’t have to—”

“Here you go, I designed this one!” 

Extending her hand, you saw the beautiful cupcake she picked out. The icing was a harmony of delicate purples, pinks, and blues. They were piped to a precision that only a steady hand could bring, the design formed a flower… the name of which slipped your mind. 

“They’re hydrangea cupcakes, because, you know,” the girl said, wiggling the cupcake in front of you like some bait. “Do they look like them?” 

You stared at the cupcake, then at her and nodded. Hydrangeas, yeah, those. 

“That’s good, I worked really hard to learn how to pipe them,” she giggled before pushing the cupcake closer to you. 

Now, would you be an asshole to reject her? 

Thinking of how to navigate this social situation, you were reminded of last night. That same smile of hers and her near-perfect manners. 

“Listen, kid, about last night,” you started, still only looking at the treat. “I hope I didn’t freak you out or—”

“No worries, I know you were only concerned for me,” she nodded, urging you to take the cupcake. “Please take it, as a thank you. My father also appreciated it.”

“Alright,” you shifted your laptop bag in your hand before taking the cupcake with an awkward smile. 

The girl just stared at you, waiting… right.

With another brief smile, you peeled the cupcake sheet to take a bite. 

Maybe it was the fact that you craved sugar from all your stress. Or perhaps the fact that you had a questionable breakfast. But the cupcake was absolutely divine. It took all of your strength not to shove the cupcake into your mouth and gulp it down. The icing was a bit too sweet for your taste, but the sponge cake balanced it out.

Gulping down a bite, you nodded. “So good.” 

Her smile widened, that sparkle in her eyes returning again and you couldn’t help but share that smile with her. Something about her carefreeness alleviated the burning in your chest. A brief reprieve from the shitshow that is your life, but a reprieve nonetheless. 

“What are you making cupcakes for?” you asked, a genuine curiosity laced in your small voice before taking another bite.

“We have a bake sale today, so,” she shuffled her bag in her hand, though only slightly so as to not mess up the treats. 

You frowned, reaching into your pocket as you asked, “hold on, should I be paying you?”

“Oh, no! No, like I said, this is a gift,” she shook her head when she saw you pull out your wallet. 

“You sure? I don’t mind,” you said, rooting to pull out some notes. “How much?”

“Seriously, it’s alright,” she grinned, pink tinting her round cheeks. She was so adorable that you felt bad for getting a free cupcake, but you doubted she’d take your money. 

Nodding, you put away your wallet before turning back to the road, both of you patiently waiting by the bus stop for your respective buses. It was so early in the morning, that the sky had barely lightened. You travelled early to beat the rush of the trains. The last thing you needed was being smushed next to other people and tolerating their presence first thing in the morning. 

Pausing your internal grumbling, you turned to the little girl and frowned. “Kid.”

She craned her neck to look up at you, a hum as her response. 

“Why are you up this early?” you asked, it was a fair question considering there were only two other students at the bus stop. A young boy and a girl, though they wore different uniforms. Surely, these buses can’t be arriving so early for these kids. 

“My school is quite far,” she said, her demeanour dimming just slightly. “So I’m the first to be picked up and last to be dropped.” 

Well, that was some terrible luck. 

“When does school start?”

“We have to be in the homeroom by seven forty-five.”

It was just about six-thirty.

“That is…” Fucked is the word you’d like to use, but you doubt that's appropriate language to use with a child. “That—That sounds awful.”

“It really is,” she agreed but then shrugged, easily shaking off her fleeting somberness. “But it gives me time to catch up on my sleep!” 

Well, that’s a positive spin. And it works considering she didn’t need to be concerned about missing her stop. 

“Fair enough,” you nodded and turned back to the road. Your bus should be here soon. 

Another silence banketed the pair of you, before your bus pulled into a stop. 

“Good luck with your sale, kid,” you mumble, before adding, “and thanks for the cupcake.” 

Her grin widened, pushing up her rosy cheeks further. It was almost cherub-like. Were kids always this adorable? That can’t be. 

“Thanks, have a good day!” she waved as you climbed in and took a seat. 

She was still waving when the bus pulled away from the stop. 

Of course, you were aware that this would happen but unfortunately, you did not see the young girl later that day. Probably because she returned home way earlier than you did. You hoped her sale went well, and considering her delicious goodies, you were sure she had no problems raking in the cash. 

Somewhat motivated about the weekend, you took a ten-minute break on your couch to ease the pain in your back before starting to clean. The first chore to tackle was the many many bags of take-out that should’ve been discarded a long time ago. Grabbing two bags in each hand to make this a one-time trip, you waddled your way out of your apartment. The garbage chute was only to the right around the corner. 

Just as you were struggling to bring your tired fingers to grab the door handle, the door opened towards you. Stepping back, you shifted your bags to a more comfortable position, waiting for the person to step out. But instead of simply leaving, the person stayed, holding the door for you. 

“Good evening,” they said. Low and delicate. You knew that voice. No longer slow from grogginess anymore. 

And much like in the morning, you fumbled your words. What is with the residents of this building?

“Uh, thanks—and yeah, good evening to you too,” you couldn’t have sounded more reluctant. You stepped into the garbage room as you spoke, pointedly avoiding looking at your neighbour. 

“No problem,” is all he said, before letting the door close after him. You turned in time just to catch his profile, his eyes scrunched shut with a small upward curve at the corner of his lips. 

Was he laughing at you?

any feedback is much appreciated.

a/n: hey chat realistically how long does it take to get over a breakup HFKJSDF

masterlist | chapter 1 | chapter 3

taglist: @eternallyghosting

[sanccharine]

cant dm my mutuals like a normal person so i have to think of ridiculous things to post so i can maybe get an Interaction from them passivestyle

[sanccharine]

02 | first sight

single parent au, neighbours au 

pairing: single parent!san x reader   genre:  word count: 2.3k

warnings: swearing, parents could be pushy, also mentions of the cheating

summary: 

status: ongoing  a/n: really wanted to get this out so here it is. that being said, to any new people to this account, i suck at schedules so please do not expect timely posts on this series, love and peace on planet earth <3

masterlist | chapter 1 | chapter 3

“Hey.���

“Hey, hey—oh, sweetheart, we can’t see your face?” 

Well, yeah. You had your phone facing the ground. 

Biting down the groan, you looked around to locate the switch to turn on the living room lights. “Just give me a second, I’m doing something, I’ll just—” 

Fingers barely scraping the edge of the light switch, you turned on your knees, almost standing up at full height when you turned on the switch. The perks of earning money and designing the home you wanted was the fact that you installed dimmer lights. A warm welcoming amber slowly washed over the room, lighting up everything you hoped you wouldn’t see until tomorrow’s sunlight reminded you.

Moving boxes. Lone boxcutter. Discarded clothes. 

With a sigh, you took your place back on the floor and reached for your phone. 

“There you are!” your dad basically screamed, forcing you to push your phone far away from you and spam the volume button to lower the noise. 

“Here I am,” you groaned as you brought the phone back to show your face. 

You look like shit. 

“You look like shit,” your dad said, only to receive a smack from your mother. “What, it's true! Are you not eating? You look like you’ve lost weight. Is that husband of yours not feeding you—!”

His face blurred as the phone was yanked away from him and instead replaced by your mother’s face. 

“Not husband,” you joked as usual, though now more sardonic than ever before. 

“Yet,” your father added as he shoved himself back into the screen. 

For a man who could barely tell the difference between granulated sugar and powdered salt, you’re not surprised his poor observational skills extended to being unable to read the room. Or just identify emotions, for that matter. 

“That’s enough,” your mother said, standing up and moving away to another room but not before throwing your father a pointed glare. Your father protested, but he was far too lazy to actually follow your mother, so his voice died out when the door closed. With a similar sigh to you, your mother seated herself on your childhood bed. “Why are you on the floor, sweetheart?” 

If your father was as perceptive as a distracted toddler, then your mother was the exact opposite. 

Attempting to steer away from her question would be futile. 

With another sigh, you admitted. “I’m just tired I guess.” 

She pursed her lips. You could guess what she would say, but was stopping herself as you had asked her to do. At least one of your parents attempted to understand your boundaries and requests. 

Why don’t you buy a car?

“Why don’t you lie down on your bed?” 

That’s not a better question but you couldn’t fault her, she didn’t know your situation. Mentally shaking away your desire to whine, you answered truthfully. Or at least as truthfully as you could without revealing what just happened. 

“I don’t know, I just find the floor comforting I guess,” you attempted a small chuckle. It felt forced even to your ears. 

“You still haven’t set up the bed, have you,” she angled her question as a statement, if only to attempt to join in on your poor excuse. 

“No, I haven’t,” your words trailed off at the end, you couldn’t carry the light tone. Should you have said ‘we’?

“Did your fiancé not help?” 

You couldn’t look your mother in the eye. Instead, you stared past your phone and at the gray slacks on the floor. 

Your mother hummed a note of question before moving on. “Please set it up over the weekend, sweetheart.”

“I will.” You will. 

“I’ll let you go now. Eat dinner please before you go to sleep, order something if you have to,” she said, reading you as easily as a children’s tale. “Goodnight, sweetheart. I love you.”

Mumbling your ‘I love you’ back, you cut the call and dropped your phone to the floor. 

Dinner. Sleep. Work. Then the weekend. 

One more day before you could let yourself shatter into a million unidentifiable pieces that could never be put back together. One more day. 

You barely slept. The couch wasn’t exactly made for sleeping. And breakfast was a cereal bar you found at the back of your cupboard. It will have to do. 

Making sure you were somewhat presentable for a nine-hour shift, you exited your apartment. 

Just as you stepped out, you caught a glimpse of the person living opposite you. The briefest of images since he was turned away from you. The most striking feature being his broad back nearly covering the width of the door. His hair was a black tousled mess and matchingly he was dressed head to toe in black. Though, what startled you was his greeting. 

“Good morning,” his voice was low, soft, still groggy from sleep. And with that, he was in his apartment and locking his door. 

You stood at your door for a second, a hand on your door handle, the door waiting to be closed so it can automatically lock your apartment. Darting your gaze up and down the corridor, you come to the conclusion he was talking to you. So you did what anyone would do.

“Uh, morning,” although your greeting was to an empty door. 

Well, at least now you couldn’t say you never interacted with your neighbour. 

Shaking away your confusion, you made your way to the elevator and walked to the bus stop near your block. It was a short walk so the interaction was fresh in your mind. Though not for long. 

“Good morning!” a cheery tone greeted you, as you came to a stop by the bus station. You knew that voice.

In an instant, you were looking to your left. It was the young girl from last night!

“Nice to see you again,” she smiled at you, all wide and chipper. 

This time around her hair was in two braids on the other side of her face, tied up with carefully crafted purple ribbons. You doubted the bows would last the school day, though they did look adorable. Her school bag was almost more than half her size and you noticed the patterns of dinosaurs. They were hand-drawn, cartoon-like, so the dinosaurs looked a bit goofy, you supposed, but identifiable nonetheless. And the colours… were colourful, for sure, but the only thing that matters was that she likes it. So purple and dinosaurs are a favourite. Cute. 

The young girl was also holding a carry bag with containers of… cupcakes.  

“Uh, yeah, morning, kid,” you stammered much like you did with your neighbour. “Nice to see you too.”

“Did you sleep well?” she asked without missing a beat and you couldn't help but look around to check if she was still talking to you. 

No, not at all.

“Yeah, decent. You?” you asked out of politeness, still facing the road. 

“Could’ve been better, to be honest,” she chuckled to herself. “I think my father is more exhausted though.” 

“Oh, is that so?” What were you doing?

“Yeah, we were up all night making cupcakes! He stayed up much later though,” She shook the bag in her hands. Alright, they were cupcakes. 

“Oh,” you repeated as you stalled for a way to converse with a child. “Nice.” 

“Would you like to try one?” She was already reaching into her bag and opening the container. 

“Oh, no! No, it’s okay, you don’t have to—”

“Here you go, I designed this one!” 

Extending her hand, you saw the beautiful cupcake she picked out. The icing was a harmony of delicate purples, pinks, and blues. They were piped to a precision that only a steady hand could bring, the design formed a flower… the name of which slipped your mind. 

“They’re hydrangea cupcakes, because, you know,” the girl said, wiggling the cupcake in front of you like some bait. “Do they look like them?” 

You stared at the cupcake, then at her and nodded. Hydrangeas, yeah, those. 

“That’s good, I worked really hard to learn how to pipe them,” she giggled before pushing the cupcake closer to you. 

Now, would you be an asshole to reject her? 

Thinking of how to navigate this social situation, you were reminded of last night. That same smile of hers and her near-perfect manners. 

“Listen, kid, about last night,” you started, still only looking at the treat. “I hope I didn’t freak you out or—”

“No worries, I know you were only concerned for me,” she nodded, urging you to take the cupcake. “Please take it, as a thank you. My father also appreciated it.”

“Alright,” you shifted your laptop bag in your hand before taking the cupcake with an awkward smile. 

The girl just stared at you, waiting… right.

With another brief smile, you peeled the cupcake sheet to take a bite. 

Maybe it was the fact that you craved sugar from all your stress. Or perhaps the fact that you had a questionable breakfast. But the cupcake was absolutely divine. It took all of your strength not to shove the cupcake into your mouth and gulp it down. The icing was a bit too sweet for your taste, but the sponge cake balanced it out.

Gulping down a bite, you nodded. “So good.” 

Her smile widened, that sparkle in her eyes returning again and you couldn’t help but share that smile with her. Something about her carefreeness alleviated the burning in your chest. A brief reprieve from the shitshow that is your life, but a reprieve nonetheless. 

“What are you making cupcakes for?” you asked, a genuine curiosity laced in your small voice before taking another bite.

“We have a bake sale today, so,” she shuffled her bag in her hand, though only slightly so as to not mess up the treats. 

You frowned, reaching into your pocket as you asked, “hold on, should I be paying you?”

“Oh, no! No, like I said, this is a gift,” she shook her head when she saw you pull out your wallet. 

“You sure? I don’t mind,” you said, rooting to pull out some notes. “How much?”

“Seriously, it’s alright,” she grinned, pink tinting her round cheeks. She was so adorable that you felt bad for getting a free cupcake, but you doubted she’d take your money. 

Nodding, you put away your wallet before turning back to the road, both of you patiently waiting by the bus stop for your respective buses. It was so early in the morning, that the sky had barely lightened. You travelled early to beat the rush of the trains. The last thing you needed was being smushed next to other people and tolerating their presence first thing in the morning. 

Pausing your internal grumbling, you turned to the little girl and frowned. “Kid.”

She craned her neck to look up at you, a hum as her response. 

“Why are you up this early?” you asked, it was a fair question considering there were only two other students at the bus stop. A young boy and a girl, though they wore different uniforms. Surely, these buses can’t be arriving so early for these kids. 

“My school is quite far,” she said, her demeanour dimming just slightly. “So I’m the first to be picked up and last to be dropped.” 

Well, that was some terrible luck. 

“When does school start?”

“We have to be in the homeroom by seven forty-five.”

It was just about six-thirty.

“That is…” Fucked is the word you’d like to use, but you doubt that's appropriate language to use with a child. “That—That sounds awful.”

“It really is,” she agreed but then shrugged, easily shaking off her fleeting somberness. “But it gives me time to catch up on my sleep!” 

Well, that’s a positive spin. And it works considering she didn’t need to be concerned about missing her stop. 

“Fair enough,” you nodded and turned back to the road. Your bus should be here soon. 

Another silence banketed the pair of you, before your bus pulled into a stop. 

“Good luck with your sale, kid,” you mumble, before adding, “and thanks for the cupcake.” 

Her grin widened, pushing up her rosy cheeks further. It was almost cherub-like. Were kids always this adorable? That can’t be. 

“Thanks, have a good day!” she waved as you climbed in and took a seat. 

She was still waving when the bus pulled away from the stop. 

Of course, you were aware that this would happen but unfortunately, you did not see the young girl later that day. Probably because she returned home way earlier than you did. You hoped her sale went well, and considering her delicious goodies, you were sure she had no problems raking in the cash. 

Somewhat motivated about the weekend, you took a ten-minute break on your couch to ease the pain in your back before starting to clean. The first chore to tackle was the many many bags of take-out that should’ve been discarded a long time ago. Grabbing two bags in each hand to make this a one-time trip, you waddled your way out of your apartment. The garbage chute was only to the right around the corner. 

Just as you were struggling to bring your tired fingers to grab the door handle, the door opened towards you. Stepping back, you shifted your bags to a more comfortable position, waiting for the person to step out. But instead of simply leaving, the person stayed, holding the door for you. 

“Good evening,” they said. Low and delicate. You knew that voice. No longer slow from grogginess anymore. 

And much like in the morning, you fumbled your words. What is with the residents of this building?

“Uh, thanks—and yeah, good evening to you too,” you couldn’t have sounded more reluctant. You stepped into the garbage room as you spoke, pointedly avoiding looking at your neighbour. 

“No problem,” is all he said, before letting the door close after him. You turned in time just to catch his profile, his eyes scrunched shut with a small upward curve at the corner of his lips. 

Was he laughing at you?

any feedback is much appreciated.

a/n: hey chat realistically how long does it take to get over a breakup HFKJSDF

masterlist | chapter 1 | chapter 3

taglist: @eternallyghosting

[sanccharine]

not yellowjackets putting me through psychological torment instead of its characters

[sanccharine]

[title]

zombie apocalypse au, doctor au

pairing: paramedic!siyeon x doctor!reader genre: angst but there is comfort word count: 1.8k

warning: description of blood and death, mentions of violence, gore and anything else found in a typical zombie apocalypse setting – please don’t read if you are uncomfortable !

summary: you were supposed to save lives. that’s who you were. 

a/n: from the archives lads, this was written in 2021 because of the ost shadow by siyeon and dami, so you know its ancient. also this is open to title suggestions bc im blanking hence the empty banner HFKJDSFHKJSD

In the cramped back of the ambulance, Danoh was fast asleep, curled in your coat and snuggled close to her mother, who gave you a weary smile before shutting her own eyes. Returning the small smile, you turned to look at the stretcher beside them. On it, Ms Park’s oxygen mask lay beside her head as she tried to sleep with her eyebrows pulled to a frown. Her granddaughter, Sieun, on the other hand, had her knees to her chest managing to take up a small portion of the stretcher with dark circles under her eyes as she looked at her unwell grandmother. Sighing at the scene, you squeezed Sieun’s shoulder, bidding her goodnight wordlessly before closing the doors of the ambulance carefully. 

After making sure that the lock was secure, you turned to the familiar skyline of your city. The sun had completely vanished behind towering buildings, as the last shades of coral and blue made way for a deep indigo, allowing twinkling stars to emerge—you would’ve never been able to witness this from your apartment. At this distance, your home looked peaceful… and normal. From afar, no one would be able to tell that the streets had been infested with flesh-eating monsters. Shaking your head to thwart away the growing lump in your throat, you looked at the dry sand beneath your boots while you walked to the passenger seat of the ambulance. 

The sound of static filtered through the quiet night as soon as you opened the door. Unfazed by your entrance, Siyeon kept fiddling with the radio she’d managed to find. Climbing in, you shut the door soundlessly. For a few moments, neither of you acknowledged each other. Hissing and stray words from the radio elicited sighs of frustration from Siyeon, while you stared at the object separating the two of you—an emergency axe. 

There were splotches and specks of burnt umber which couldn’t be scrubbed clean even when you knew they weren't rust. Under filtered moonlight, the end of the blade gleamed silver, terrifyingly sharp and unblemished as if it could sever a thousand more limbs and crush a thousand more skulls while still remaining untainted. You couldn’t say the same about your hands. 

That cursed axe had ruined you. Your hands. 

The moment flashed across your vision again. 

Both your hands gripping Siyeon’s axe. Bringing it down with a swing. And then another. And another. The blade cleaving through skin. Muscle. Bone. Until the head rolled toa stop by your feet. An expression of eternal horror. Cloudy eyes and rotting skin. 

You couldn’t pull your stare away from it. You simply couldn’t. 

Siyeon had to pull you away. 

There was still that phantom sensation of bringing down that axe, saved in your muscle memory now. Your hands shaking. The very same that had been trained to save lives had just taken one. 

Unable to take the repulsive image nor the shuffling static anymore, you said under your breath. “There won’t be a broadcast this late.” 

The static abruptly stopped. 

You startled slightly when Siyeon raised her hand in surrender and away from the radio, before folding her arms and looking out the window. Now instead of rampant hissing, there was endless silence—an enormous suffocating chasm between the two of you, more distressing than that axe. 

The relationship between you and Siyeon was a strange one. You were work colleagues, not that your paths crossed often at the hospital, what with her running back and forth from the hospital on this very ambulance while you were running laps around the intensive care unit and operating room. After long shifts and late nights, the two of you have shared thoughts and drinks. Though Yubin had always been there to be a buffer, a mutual connection. You and Siyeon were acquaintances at best. 

So when all hell broke loose one night, now almost three weeks back, you were glad she was there. Wielding a bloodied axe, her bleached blonde hair a mess in her face as she guarded and escorted you, Sieun and her grandmother to the parking lot. The four of you took off, and the rest was history. Until, the convenience store two nights back. 

With a voice just as quiet as yours, albeit lower, Siyeon asked. “How are they doing?” 

Staring at your hands splayed out flat on your knees, you answered. “Fine.” You hesitated, then swallowing your distress, you asked, “when do you think we’ll reach that camp? Ms Park… her condition is worsening. We need to treat her. Quickly.” 

Finally, Siyeon turned away from the window to stare at your side—to observe you. She did that often. 

Of course, you were thankful for Siyeon. Well, without her, you wouldn’t be here. Alive, that is. However, you’ve seen how paramedics work, how she worked with Danoh and her mother, and how… proactive… she can be when necessary. You spared a quick glance at the axe. This is why when she paused or withdrew, it stunned you. There is a slightly awkward aloofness to her that she masked well with a sombre gaze and brief answers.  

Sighing deeply, Siyeon leaned forward to fiddle with the radio once again and mellow static filtered through the speakers. She recalled the broadcasts you’d stumbled upon two nights back and said, “they mentioned a base camp. Up north, not far. So—“

“We’re in the middle of nowhere, Siyeon.” 

“—it must be a factory or warehouse,” nonchalant to your comment, she continued, “there’s that industrial sector, you know?” 

You bit back the urge to hiss that, no, you don’t know any industrial sectors because you were rooted to the hospital. Instead, you asked, in what you hoped was a level-headed tone. 

“And they have the ability to broadcast messages from there?”

“I don’t know, but it's good shelter,” Siyeon said emotionlessly. Factually. Like she did when she wanted a conversation to end. 

Once again, there was that smothering stillness between you, only disturbed by the sound of the howling wind rustling the sand accompanied by the faint groans of monsters. On habit, you checked your dying phone to see if Yubin had read your messages, or received them for that matter. Still nothing. 

When the screen turned black, you saw Siyeon’s reflection. Her head was turned to look at you, jaw clenched with that fierceness you couldn’t seem to mimic. Her skin was ashen under the moonlight and her once silken blonde hair was wind-blown with brown roots. There were dark circles under her eyes, but even then they were trained with such intensity you doubted if she was actually tired. She studied you like you would a case file, noticing the flaws, reading between the lines, running millions of scenarios before narrowing down to a possible diagnosis. 

She was calculating what to say to get you to forgive yourself. 

You knew this because ever since you picked up Danoh and her mother at that convenience store, Siyeon had suddenly become more vocal. More concerned. Like… you were some sort of patient. 

On the other hand, you’ve been doing your best to ignore her, just like how you pretended her burning gaze didn’t bother you. Before returning to study your hands, you threw your useless phone into the glove box, pushing aside any hope that Yubin might respond. 

“You did what you had to.” 

Those five words made you clench your fists and had your nails dig into your palm, but you felt how your hands trembled. You were well aware of what she was talking about but you weren’t ready to admit it. Maybe, it was easy for someone like Siyeon to say something like that, to tell herself that to justify her actions but you’re not like her. That lump of regret and self-deirison you’d swallowed began clawing its way up your throat again. There was a tightness around your chest which paralysed you, making you feel the weightlessness of being weak. When you unclenched your hands and turned to study your palms, you witnessed the odd twitches of your fingers, the sudden jerks and incessant shaking, and the growing redness from forming blisters.

“You did what anyone would’ve done,” Siyeon tried again, each word stressed to drill her point in, though it was of no use. 

At the sight of you shaking your head, Siyeon groaned. You didn’t want to hear this again, not when your hands were quivering like a leaf. The same hands that you’d spent a decade moulding into perfect stillness, precision, and poise—only to be lost to fear, doubt, and crushing regret. 

Whatever lecture Siyeon had prepared, you interrupted before she could begin. 

“That's ten years of study and practice and tears—and a lot of money—gone to waste,” you said, voice shaking as much as your fingers, which never stilled even when you clenched your fists again. 

“You still have two years of your residency—”

An exasperated scoff escaped your lips as you kept flexing your fingers, hastier with each attempt, anxious to stop the tremors but to no avail. Biting your lip, you tried to steady your breath and blinked furiously at the sight of your hands. 

“You did what you had to,” Siyeon repeated, voice gravelly and exhausted.

“We swore to save lives!” you yelled, hitting the dashboard as tears you’ve been holding up for days were finally free. With another dejected slap to the dashboard, you leaned forward and laid your forehead on it and held your aching head. Voice brittle, you said, almost like a whine, “we swore to save lives.”

Only your sobs were apparent in your surroundings for a moment, no doubt shocking Siyeon into even more distance, but something new happened. 

Silently, the paramedic moved the axe away from your sight and shuffled closer to you. She wrapped an arm around you, forcing you to turn into her. There you were, crying into her shoulder as Siyeon rubbed circles on your back, consoling you with a gentle voice you’ve only seen her use with Danoh. 

“We are saving lives,” she said, after a while when your sobbing had subsided. Siyeon pulled you away from her and wiped away any stray tears. “You are still saving lives—no, look at me.” 

Siyeon held your cheek to make you face that intense gaze of hers head on. You recognized that look of determination, that calculating stare as she took note of your features. 

“Ms Park is here, in this ambulance, because of you. She’s alive, because of you. Her granddaughter is here, with her, because of you. Danoh is sleeping peacefully in her alive and healthy mother’s arms because you heard her cries and jumped head first into that convenience store, which was super stupid by the way,” that elicited a chuckle out of you and Siyeon’s own lips twitched upward for a second, savouring this moment before she said, “and we’re all here—I’m here… because you—” 

Killed.

You knew that. 

You did. 

any feedback is much appreciated.

a/n: i actually wanted to make this a larger fic with multiple parts (some of which are half-written) but then i put too much pressure on myself lol. i might post the parts, it might be disjointed tho idk anyway hope you have a good day/night :]

tagging: @someone-who-likes-broccoli

[sanccharine]

yeah no reader is going through hell, but it will get better (after a while but hey), that being said little girl is all good guys, she got this !

01 | half of me

single parent au, neighbours au

pairing: single parent!san x reader   genre:  word count: 3.1k

warnings: cheating (not san !), swearing, angst

summary: 

status: ongoing  a/n: should i be starting something new when i have so much unfinished already ? no, but also who's gonna stop me HDKJFSFHDK sorry idk. anyway will fill in summary when my brain works. as always thanks @eternallyghosting for tolerating me

The sigh you let out was deep. With it your whole body sagged, the ache in your lower back making its way up your spine even after you’ve twisted and turned to relieve it. There had been open seats on the train back home, but you decided to stand by the doors, leaning on the railing as you watched your city rush past you in a blur of yellow, blue, and black. You would’ve missed your stop if your body didn’t move on its own. Even though you were wearing your earphones, no music played. Instead, you wore them for appearances, so people would know to avoid you. Besides, the blooming pain growing in your temple wouldn’t allow you to enjoy music anyway. 

Today was less than ideal. Though you could argue that sentiment applied to a lot of your days in the last few months. Every single day felt like a slog, from the moment you woke up to the moment you entered back into the bed. Work was mind-numbing, and overtime was the only thing keeping you together, a routine you couldn’t shake, anything to avoid the end of the day so another wouldn’t start. 

Texting your parents every day as a full-time working adult felt like a joke, but it was worse when they called you asking to hear your voice, to know how your day was. What were you supposed to say? That you couldn’t stand it? That their love and care was a bother? Especially when every single coin they toiled away to obtain was poured into your well-being. Just like how every single drop of your blood, sweat, and tears was spilled into fulfilling every single wish they had. Student debt amounted next to nothing of the life debt you owe your parents. You could never escape them. 

There was a familiar burn in the back of your throat, the beginnings of a breakdown you couldn’t afford. With another sigh, you swiped your access key to enter your gated community. It was quite late in the evening, and people were beginning to wind down, most of the home lights were turned down or switched off. Though it was still early for your return home. 

Though it wasn’t even a home. It was only on paper. Your bed wasn’t even set up, it was merely a mattress on the floor for now. The mere idea of walking into your new house and coming home to the image of multiple unopened moving boxes made you want to turn around right now. But then, where would you go? 

Rolling your neck, your left palm came to massage your right shoulder as you waited for the elevator. The action was soothing enough that you could ignore the pain of your ring chafing into your skin through your jacket.

There was a mirror on the back of the elevator, you made sure to keep your head down. You didn’t have it in you to look at yourself right now. 

Though, your somberness was quickly thwarted. 

“Good evening!” a cheery tone said and stepped out of the elevator. 

Your head didn’t have to move much to find the owner of the voice. She was a young girl, no older than eight or nine years. Her stark black hair was in a braid that fell to the right of her face, tied with a purple scrunchie, matching the frock she wore. The young girl was holding a dinosaur-patterned purse in her left hand while the other was holding the elevator doors for you. The light in her eyes shining like stars do in the darkness, bright and unwavering. And her smile was just as radiant, it held a naive gentleness only a child could bear. It almost brought a smile to your face. Almost.

Dumbfounded by her manners, you mumbled your gratitude as you entered the elevator. 

“No problem,” she said, before bowing and turning to leave. 

You couldn’t help it. 

Slamming your left hand on the elevator doors before it could close, you asked. “Where are you headed this late?” 

“Just to the supermarket,” the girl turned around, showing the purse in her hands. 

The reason you decided to buy an apartment in this gated community was because of its security. Hence, gated. Every building all the way from the basement parking lot was accessed through keycards only available to residents. Cameras were abundant and covered every crevice of the compound while security staff roamed the compound around the clock. Besides, since the compound was so isolated, it held its own supermarket, restaurants, clinic, and support services. It was almost like a small town. 

You had no doubt this girl would be safe leaving and returning… right? She looked old enough to be responsible about this. And if her manners were any indication, she was clever enough to handle herself. 

But you couldn’t dispel your hesitancy to return home—no, to keep her safe. Tiredness from a long day seemed to vanish, almost as if you were doused with coffee. Should you accompany her to the supermarket? Or would that be weird? You were concerned for her safety, but also you were a complete stranger. In fact, if you did follow her to the store, you would look more like the danger you were trying to protect her from. 

Doubt caused you to halt, clueless about your next move. Fortunately for you, the young girl seemed to understand. 

“My father already ordered, I’m just going to pay and collect them,” she smiled, it was her attempt to assure you. But you remained frozen, hand still preventing the doors from closing, any moment now it would start beeping from being open too long. “You don’t have to worry, I’ll be quick. But you don’t have to wait for me though!” 

“Alright,” you mumbled, and her smile widened. “But be careful, okay? Look both sides before crossing the streets. And make sure all the things are there from your father’s grocery list. And make sure to get the receipt so you can check your change!” 

What the fuck are you doing?

The girl just nodded, her lips wobbling as she tried to suppress a smile. Great, this was ridiculous to the middle schooler as well and she was just indulging your pathetic antics. 

“I will, I promise! Thank you for worrying,” oh, she was so definitely trying to get rid of you. Perhaps, you should have just ignored her like you ignore most children. “Have a good night!” 

“You too, kid,” you mumbled, “get home safe.” 

The young girl skipped away after nodding, no doubt itching to flee from the weird, tired stranger who randomly stopped her from her chore and lectured her. Only after she disappeared from your sight do you let the doors close, and only after they close do you throw your head back with a groan. 

“Fuck! What is wrong with you?” you mutter to yourself, pressing the button for the eighth floor after swiping your keycard. “What is wrong with you? Why would you freak a kid out like that? What the fuck? What the fuck?”

Another groan escaped as you moved to wedge yourself into a corner, allowing the coldness of the metal sheet to soothe your burning forehead. You shut your eyes as you asked yourself the question again and again. Whoever was manning the security cameras must have one entertaining show. 

When the elevator announced your floor, you quickly straightened yourself. This complex was huge. The buildings housed almost twenty apartments per floor, and there were fifteen floors. The chance of coming across her again is quite small. You were hoping she forgets your existence altogether, but you plan on avoiding the public areas as much as possible to prevent seeing her just in case. You exited as normally as you could muster, not before chancing a glance at the security camera. 

The walk from the lift to your apartment was a small one, a turn and a few steps, and you were there. But it was enough time for your adrenaline from the interaction to settle and be replaced with exhaustion again. Every single emotion you felt in the last few minutes dissipated as quickly as sand in the wind, while a heavy weight pressed you further into the ground. Once again, your whole body sagged with a sigh, your height decreased as you held your keycard away from the door, just far enough that it didn’t scan. 

You could hear shuffling from somewhere, but the direction of the sound didn’t register. You knew the apartment opposite you was occupied—there was a black sedan in their designated parking spot—but it had been weeks since you moved, and you still hadn’t met your neighbour. Honestly, you were kind of grateful for that. 

You were in no mood to exchange niceties with some random person, at least not until an unfortunate incident forced you to meet. The neighbour seemed to share the sentiment, because if they knew you moved in, they didn’t seem to care, otherwise, you would’ve met them. You wouldn’t want to meet any of your neighbours either, in fact, you haven’t met any of them. Well, except just now with that little girl, who probably was a resident in one of the apartments in your block. 

The moment the door unlocked, your ears focused on the sound of shuffling. It was from your home. Every sense that had been switched off suddenly kickstarted again. Even when you reminded yourself again of the countless security measures in place and that there was no way someone could break in and enter this compound, you couldn’t shake the sense of danger. Your mind drifted back to the safety of the little girl, maybe you should have gone with her. 

You left the main door slightly open, a hint of light from the hallway coloured your dark apartment, showing the boxes stacked everywhere. Setting down your bag by the door, you grabbed the boxcutter on top of one of the boxes as you made it to the master bedroom at the far end of the hall. 

Then you heard his voice. 

And then, you heard someone else’s. 

A snort escaped you before your mind could even process what it was you were hearing. 

Perhaps, you would have preferred being stabbed to death by a robber instead. 

Too tired to care, you dropped the boxcutter to the floor and walked to your bedroom door to push it open. The sight should have shocked you, traumatized you, maybe, but you genuinely didn’t have it in you to be concerned. Instead, you folded your arms and cleared your throat. 

The woman underneath your fiancé was the first to shriek. 

In a panic, she shoved him right off the bed and he toppled over, a generous thud to cement his fall. You couldn’t even laugh at it since your mattress was literally on the floor because your bed frame was still in an IKEA box, sitting untouched in the corner. 

The woman was the first to cover herself up, pulling the bed sheet close to herself while your fiancé of three years—well, ex-fiancé, now—regained his bearings.  

The woman was also the first to apologise. 

“I’m so sorry—” her blubbering shocked you more than the fact that you caught the person, whom you thought would be your husband, cheating on your anniversary. When you turned to her, she opened her mouth again, trying to apologize, cover herself, and collect her clothes from the floor all at the same time. Though she never got the chance to speak.

“Babe, I can explain,” your eyes trained back on your ex, a pillow the only thing saving his modesty. “Let’s not make any hasty decisions, alright?” 

He cannot be serious. 

“Get out.” 

Silence engulfed the master bedroom. 

For an outsider, this tableau must look something like a Baroque painting. 

The stark difference in lighting, blackness only smudged by the dimmed bedroom amber, while the figures were dramatic and expressive—exaggerated to display the sheer absurdity of the scene. Mussed drapes, detailed wrinkles, dripping sweat and… unadulterated fear in widened eyes. 

Then the scene broke. 

“Let me explain,” he said, as you snorted again. “This is not what it looks like—”

“Get the fuck out. Now.” 

He opened his mouth but you shook your head, moving to the side to show him the door. 

“Out.” 

He followed the order, but much to your dislike, he was still attempting to speak. Though, his words fell on deaf ears. 

“You too. Get your clothes and leave, please,” you turned to the woman and she just nodded, rushing to get her clothes, broken out of her stupor. 

“What about my clothes? Let me just—”

Perhaps, if you gave a shit, you would have given him a verbal lashing. Maybe a smart comment asking exactly why he finally needed his clothes. But no, instead you kicked at the back of his knee and watched him stumble to the ground. 

He sent you a scathing glare as he picked himself up, still clinging onto his pillow, and made for the door. The moment he was out of the threshold, you slammed the door behind him, hard enough for the frame to rattle. He was banging on your door, asking to be heard, but you just made your way to the bedroom to see where the woman was. 

“I’m sorry!” She was tucking her dress shirt into her pencil skirt. Work. She’s from his firm. When she turned to look at you, it was surprising to find tears in her eyes. She was the last person who should be affected by the whole debacle, but she seemed to be the only one thinking normally. Or well, reacting. “I’m not—I’m not like that—wait, I mean, I wouldn’t have if he was—”

You shook your head, confused as to why she was rambling so much. She didn’t owe you anything. 

“No, no, you have to believe me, please,” she said, shoving her phone and earrings into her purse before grabbing her shoes. She continued when she passed you out of your bedroom. “I genuinely didn’t know he was married or engaged or whatever. He wasn’t wearing his ring, if I had known—” her whole body jerked as a sob escaped her. “I would never—I didn’t, I could never do that to someone. Please believe me.” 

“Hey, hey, calm down,” you said, much like how you’d coax a kitten out of its hiding spot. You walked her to the door and stopped when she did. “It doesn’t matter, okay? You don’t have to apologise for him—”

Hold on, what the fuck are you doing? She wasn’t your problem. 

“It really doesn’t matter,” you sighed, a hand on the door handle. “Please just leave.” 

She stared at you, a gulp passing down her throat. Her eyes were bloodshot and her make-up in ruins. She was taking you in as much as you were taking her in. And then she glimpsed at the ring on your left hand. 

“I’m so sorry, I really am,” you only nodded, unable to look at her as you opened the door. 

A hand gripped the door to push it open, startling both you and the woman. 

Unable to help yourself, your eyes shot to hand, and just as she said, it was bare, much like its owner. A derisive snort escaped you, before you banged the door close. Unfortunately, he reacted quickly and removed his hand. Opening the door just enough for the woman to leave, you shut it close again as soon as she left. In your hurry, you missed the feeling of someone watching you. 

After waiting for the beep to signal that the door was locked, you turned your back to it and slid to the ground. From your pocket, your phone cluttered to the floor, though you just ignored it and stretched out your legs in front of you. 

There was padding on the floor, you assumed it was the woman walking away. Your cheater of an ex was still muttering and mumbling, not that you cared for it. A few minutes passed, and then there was that padding of feet again. He left as well. Good. 

You only hoped that young girl made it home before she could see this mess of a man stumble out of the compound, completely naked.

The sigh you let out was deep. With it you let your body stretch upward until you were facing the ceiling, finding all the cricks on your neck on the way. For the first time, in a long time, your head was silent. Empty, just like your home. Here, you were on the floor, in the darkness, and surrounded by moving boxes—there should have been a strong sense of uncertainty, but you felt none of it. You didn’t know what you were feeling. 

You looked around, searching in the darkness for any answer. But there was none. No magnets on the fridge, no photos in frames, no ornaments on the table—and even if you unpacked, would there be anything? Anything at all, to make this feel like the home you actually wanted to return to. 

Today was less than ideal.

That instance had been the last nail in the coffin to really cement the thought. 

And yet, the sentiment felt different now. 

A small chuckle bubbled out of you, and then it was followed by another, and then another, and before you knew it you were laughing uncontrollably while your eyes were drier than sand. You were beginning to close in on yourself, your left hand coming up to soothe your right shoulder, to relieve you of any and all feeling when that ring pressed into your skin. Even through the clothes, it seemed to burn. 

In an instant, you were tugging the ugly ring from your finger. Stupid fucking thing wasn’t even the right size! With much effort, you were able to remove it and without another thought, you threw it into the darkness. The sound of metal hitting the ground was the only hint it landed. 

You waited for anger to spill out, instead, it was as if a huge weight was lifted from your shoulders. 

Finally, there were tears forming in your eyes. But then, your phone began vibrating. 

Light blinded your face but once it subsided, you read the caller that flashed across your phone. 

And suddenly, it was as if someone had dropped an anvil on your chest. A weight, tenfold of any negative emotion you’ve ever faced in your life, buried you whole and alive into the ground. 

How the fuck do you mention this to your parents?

any feedback is much appreciated.

a/n: does everyone collectively sigh when i write another fic with angst and a reader who is going through hell HFKSDJHFKDJS i'm sorry ;-;

[sanccharine]

Full throttle to the spot, RIIIDE

[sanccharine]

in front of you masterlist

single parent au, neighbours au 

pairing: single parent!san x reader   genre:  word count: currently 9.6k

warnings: cheating (not san !), swearing, pushy parents, angst 

summary: 

status: ongoing | last updated: may 28 2025 a/n: this has been rotting in my docs for two years, i wanted it OUT !! also you know my updates suck, so we'll be lucky if i post <3

chapter 1: half of me chapter 2: first sight chapter 3: the neighbourly thing chapter 4: bad luck more to come...

taglist: @eternallyghosting @marvolos @dawn-iscozy @vannerriin

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