[sanccharine]

nmixx's album is so good

[sanccharine]

heart bleeds | ty

pairing: tzuyu x gn!reader genre: fluff word count: 0.8k

warnings: none that i can think of :]

a/n: guys i think i like tzuyu. also was listening to bleed by malcolm todd, so song rec !

This was a scene you would never find yourself in. Loud music, dimmed lights, unfamiliar bodies moving along. A college party like every other that is described in every movie and book alike. You didn’t know anyone here. Well, that wasn’t solely true. 

This wasn’t Tzuyu’s regular scene either. For the most part she’d been hesitant to go when she received the invite. Her one saving grace was that she could bring a plus one; that was how you ended up sticking to a corner from where you could see the whole party unfold. 

 A collection of people thrown across the couch and floor, playing cards. Another group on the patio by the illuminated pool. There were a few by the open kitchen, pouring drinks and munching on finger foods in between. Then the most obvious crowd; a mangle of bodies on the dance floor. 

To some extent, it was admirable. The current song playing is not one you would consider exactly danceable, but people found a way. Couples intertwined, close and embracing, far and grinning, pulled close and thrown apart. But having fun, nonetheless. The slight envy aside, about them being so free, it was entertaining to watch. 

When Tzuyu came over to your corner, she’d returned with a slight sheen of sweat on her forehead. She also wore a grin that bordered on imaginary. You know she had friends here, a lot of them. You know you were mostly body support, and more probable, a safety accommodation for transport after the party. So it makes sense she’d be having fun, even if she doesn’t necessarily think she belongs. 

“You okay?” she asks, head tilted to the left. The question was softer than her usual tone. 

“Checking up on me again?” you scoff, though there was no derision. Every so often, she’d make her round back to you. Sometimes with food, maybe another drink that she’d leave behind for you to finish, mostly to ask that same question. “I’m fine,” you reassure her, “you don’t need to keep asking.”

“Yeah, well, I want to,” she huffed out, running her hands through her hair, mussing it up. 

The silky waves she’d spent an hour styling were losing shape. And you wouldn’t admit it to her, not unless she’d send you a death glare, but they looked more alluring now. Inviting, even. 

Without a second thought, you raised your hand to fix a strand which defied its position, sticking out far too much. Tzuyu stilled, a delicate smile pulling up her perfectly tinted lips. 

“Better?” she asks, with a twinkle in her gaze that bordered on mischievous. You just nodded, going to pull your phone so she could check for herself. She pushed the hand away. “I trust you.” 

Her hand lingered, making a path down your wrist and entwining your fingers with hers. Holding her hand is nothing new. It was the look she was giving you that made your head spin. Though it could be all the alcohol, too. 

She tugged and you stumbled a step closer. Tzuyu’s grin grew and you just about pieced what she was up to. Not that it mattered to her. She used her free hand to grab your empty solo cup, the one you’d been nursing despite it being empty and chucked it aside. 

“Uh! Littering!” you turned, gasping with mock offence, hoping she’d let you go. Instead, Tzuyu grabbed your other hand and pulled you to the edges of the swaying crowd. “Tzu—”

She only shook her head, another yank had you teetering into her. Tzuyu only laughed, head tipped back and eyes closed. There wasn’t much you could do but grin at the sight of her. 

Most of the initial dancing, if you could call it that, was just swaying. Finding the beat that kept changing, it was an interesting playlist. Though it wasn’t reason enough to escape Tzuyu’s grasp. 

“Relax,” she ordered, as if it were an easy task. 

Tzuyu’s presence near you did help.  

Then it was conjoined hands, some mockery of waltz, with the occasional twirl where you ended up laughing when it ended up clunky. You were finally loosening up. When the tempo kicked up, a song you recognised, the pair of you jumped. Singing along to the words. Moving came about easier. 

That was all it took and before you knew it. Your own forehead was perspired, hair in your face, and clothes out of order. Worth it. 

It was your turn to pull her closer, hands wrapping around her hips as if they knew their place. When your fingers tugged at her tank, a mere brush against her ribcage, her smile widened. Knowing. 

Tzuyu didn’t waste time. 

First, it was a gentle press of her forehead to yours. The last, was the feel of her lips on yours. A mere brush, tender in all its heart. A simple act. 

Chuckling, you hooked your arms completely around her into a hug. Tzuyu pressed one last kiss to the junction where your jaw meets your neck, before melting into you.

any feedback is much appreciated.

a/n: kiss your friends guys !

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

[sanccharine]

potentially... if i did start writing again, would people be interested ?

[sanccharine]

happy deepavali and happy twice day :]

[soyeon]

LARA, KATSEYE Better in Denim.

[sanccharine]

Hi! I just wanted to let you know that a Wattpad user (yejikitty02) translated one of your works into Spanish and published it in a story about YooHyeon, where they gave credit to your account in the chapter. I just wanted to let you know—have a great day! 🤍

damn, was it at least good in spanish or was my work still ass lol

but you're real sweet to let me know anon, thanks i appreciate it.

and them for crediting me ?? written by them like we're co-authors ?? i think they mean translated by them, without consent ?? the fuck ?? if they had the idea to credit me, they could have done the translation by asking me first at the very least — but even then what can i actually do to stop them lol

i don't even have time to crash about something so useless lol there are more important things going on my life. this is what i get for lurking on this account instead of just ignoring its existence

frustration aside, thanks for sending this anon. you didn't have to but i appreciate you looking out :]

[kit-kat-katie]

a date with disaster

a/n: I love penelope so much she's just like me fr fr

pairing: penelope x gender-neutral! reader (romantic)

tw: fluff that takes a nosedive into near smut by the end, mentions of a house fire that sets off arma, takes place post-romance route so there will be spoilers!

summary: after penelope goes on a string of unsuccessful dates, you decide that it's time to right that wrong. maybe you jinxed yourself, or maybe it's your nerves, but your date with penelope nearly goes up in flames. - 2.2k words! [ao3 link!]

“I just can't believe that dating has gone so bad for me! First there was Kristof, who was handsome but way too intimidating and scary. Then there was Shelley, who couldn't even get through the date without sobbing! I thought Chance might be the one, but he dumped me after he got a bad dice roll. Who DOES that? I'm not even going to go into Sinclair, and then there was that whole thing with Skylar! How am I supposed to find a date when even SHE won't date me?”

Penelope looks ready to cry after telling you her dating woes, but you think you have just the pick-me-up.

“Why don't you go on a date with me?”

“With you?” Penelope nervously laughs. “As if someone as hot as you would go on a date with me!”

She laughs again, but quickly stops once she realizes that you're serious.

“You'd take me on a date… even after all of my other dates went horribly?”

“I think anyone would be lucky to have you, Penelope. I'd just love to be the one who can offer you the best date ever.”

“The best date ever?” She tilts her head at you before quietly adding, “You promise?”

“Of course. Are you free tonight at eight?”

“ABSOLUTELY!”

You weren't sure if Penelope would agree to a date with you, considering how poorly the others went, but she surprised you when she enthusiastically agreed to a date.

Given that it was a little last minute, you didn't have much time to plan anything grand or spectacular. Not that you needed to - the bar was literally in hell when it came to bad dates - but you wanted to impress your date nonetheless.

So you put on some of your finest clothing, an outfit from a few years ago that had barely been worn, and you headed into the bathroom to freshen up.

Normally, you'd do this on your own or with Sam as she video-calls you, but who needs to prepare themselves when there's a beauty guru who's far too happy to use you as his canvas?

You slide the dateviators over your eyes, and your upstairs bathroom is transformed into a beauty parlor that's ripped straight from a movie scene.

“Need a hand, darling?” Barry appears at your side before ushering you over to a nearby chair.

“How'd you know?”

“Just a lucky guess.” He offers you a wink as you sit down at one of the beauty stations. “By the way, have you heard of this amazing new skin treatment? We'll have to try it when you have some extra time.”

You're thankful for Barry's endless chatter as he does his magic. Your nerves have really settled in now since it's been such a long time since you've actually planned a date for someone else.

Usually, it's the dateables trying to sweep you off your feet, not the other way around. You've been dragged off to date after date that you haven't had to plan. 

Can you really offer Penelope a date that won't go up in flames?

Just don't cry or roll dice or insult her glasses or scare her off, and you should be fine.

…Theoretically.

“So, who is the lucky person that you're dying to impress tonight?” Barry pauses for a moment, lifting up your chin to examine something before continuing his work on you. “Wait, let me guess! Is it someone from the dining room? There's a lot of romantics in that room, and I have this perfect smokey-eye look that will draw them in-”

“-Penelope. It's Penelope.” Your voice softens as you say her name.

“Penelope…” He thinks to himself for a moment. “Ah, the office supplies! Sweet girl. Wouldn't let me do her make-up, but still a sweetheart! She'd look great in red lipstick with just a touch of blush on her face.”

“She really is a sweetheart. She's been on so many bad dates that I wanted to show her what a good date looked like.” You say as Barry spins you around to look in the mirror.

“Ta-da! What do we think?”

You check yourself out in the mirror as you admire Barry’s work. He truly had a way of highlighting someone’s natural beauty without using too much make-up.

“It's perfect, Barry, thank you.” You stand up before offering Barry two air-kisses to both sides of his face.

He quickly returns the gesture before waving you off.

“Anytime, my dear! Have fun on your date! Oh, and come by later if you want to try that new skincare routine that I was telling you about!”

You smile before taking the dateviators off of your face - Barry truly is charming just the way he is - and you're transported back into your bathroom.

It's time to get everything ready for our date!

~

You arrive at your office door mere seconds before eight o'clock, and you put the dateviators on your face after knocking in the door.

“Just a minute! I'll be ready soon.” Penelope calls out to you, and your heart pounds in your chest.

You're really doing this. You can do this.

“Whenever you're ready, Penelope. There's no rush.” You reassure her before falling silent.

You swear you can hear her pacing on the other side of the door while muttering to herself - perhaps she's trying to hype herself up for the date? 

The thought brings a smile to your face as Penelope opens the door to you.

“Hey! …Oh wow,” Penelope gawks at you for a moment as she drinks you in, “you look hot, like really hot.”

Heat rushes to your face as you accept her compliment.

“Thanks. You look good too.”

“Me? Oh no, no, this is just what I wear every day!” She quickly adjusts her glasses before looking away from you. “I'm really nervous, if you couldn't tell.”

You offer her your hand, a simple gesture meant to calm her nerves and your racing heart.

“I'm nervous too.”

“You? Nervous? With me? That's a good joke.” Penelope loudly laughs to herself until she sees your serious expression. “Oh my God, you're not kidding.”

“I want to make tonight perfect for you because you deserve it.”

Your hand is still outstretched, awaiting hers.

“For me?” She's at a loss for words as she stares down at your hand.

“Let me try to show you a good time. Please.” 

After an unbearable moment of silence, her hand slides into yours. Her skin is as smooth as you imagined it, but her hand is also warm and welcoming.

You interlace your fingers with hers as you lead her into your kitchen. It was peaceful in your kitchen with a few candles lit for a bit of ambience. You even decided to light your candelabra as a compromise between you and Scandalabra - you got his silence, and he got a good cleaning so he was able to be lit.

You move past the dining room so you can pull out a chair for Penelope by your kitchen table.

“Wow…” She stares in disbelief at the meal that lies before her. “I think this is the best date I've ever been on!” 

“Don't count me out of the running for last place yet.” You tease her before taking a seat on the other side of the table.

After double-checking with Skylar that dateables could indeed eat human food, you decided that a nice homemade dinner would be the best way to impress your date in a short amount of time.

With the help of Mitchell, Stefan, and a quick Google recipe, you were able to whip up something with the ingredients that you had lying around the kitchen. It wasn't going to win any awards for presentation, but it tasted pretty damn good.

“Do you cook very often?” Penelope asks after taking a bite of food.

“Not really, but I wanted to impress this super cute girl.”

You wink at her, which nearly causes her to choke on the bite of food in her mouth.

“Oh! Thank you!” She coughs into her hand for a moment. “Why didn't I just go out with you first? It would've saved me a lot of trouble.”

Her face is bright red, and you can't help but admire the color on her.

Barry was right. A touch of blush looks great on her.

Conversation flows easily between the two of you, and you find yourself relaxing more and more as the two of you grow closer. Your hand finds hers again, and neither of you shy away from each other's touch as you finish your meal.

Occasionally, you hear a small scraping noise in the background, but you pay it no mind until Penelope points at something behind you with her free hand.

“Is that Scandalabra-”

Your head immediately turns back towards your dining room table, and you quickly scramble out of your seat to stop the candelabra from falling onto the floor.

You arrive just before your nosy candelabra can take a nose dive off of Abel, and you let out a deep sigh of relief as you reposition him on the table.

“You just can't help yourself, can you?” You scold Scandalabra without looking at him with the dateviators on - the last thing you need is him yelling about how much of a scandal this is. “You could've caused a house fire, y’know?”

Your eyes immediately find the fire alarm in the kitchen after the words leave your mouth.

Don't tell me she heard that-

“Arma, it's okay, there's really no-”

BEEEEEEEEEP!

“-fire.”

Your head hangs low as you walk into the kitchen. You'll have to reset the alarm while making sure that the stupid candelabra doesn't try any funny business.

It can't possibly get worse, can it?

Then you spot the sprinkler head that's directly above you, and you can only wait in a few seconds of agonizing silence before you're sprayed with water.

If you could simply stop existing with a snap of your fingers, you would've already done it. You can't even look Penelope in the eyes - she must be absolutely mortified by what has happened. 

So much for the best date ever… I might as well get my house back in order.

You dry off your hands on a nearby towel before grabbing the alarm off the wall. A quick reset turns the alarm off, and the sprinkler eventually dies down as well.

With that mess out of the way, you figure that you should probably acknowledge your poor date, who is probably covered in water and is ready to go back to the office.

“I'm really sorry about all of this. I thought I told everyone,” You throw a pointed glare at Scandalabra in particular, “not to worry about me tonight. I wanted to take you out because you deserve to go on a good date for once! Penelope, I understand if you don't want to see me anymore-”

You stop when soft lips meet yours in a sweet kiss that nearly makes you forget about what has happened. 

I do not deserve her kindness, especially after this mess.

Your hands find Penelope's waist as you pull her in closer. She squeals at the gesture, and you smile into the kiss until you both need to part ways for air.

“Are you kidding? This has been the best date ever! I got to go out with you, and the food was amazing. Besides,” Her hand lands on your chest for a moment as she looks you in the eyes, “I think people look better when they're sopping wet.”

Warmth flows through all of your body at her comment, and your mouth just hangs open as she considers what she just said.

“Oh, I didn't mean it like that- …well, I kind of did mean it like that… if you're into that?” She nervously plays with part of your outfit as you laugh to yourself for a moment.

“I'm into you, Penelope. Your awkwardness, your cheesy quotes, and your cute demeanor. I want all of you.”

“You do?” She softly asks before you kiss her cheek.

“I do.” 

“So we can do it?”

“It?” You tilt your head at her.

“Sex.” She bluntly says.

You burst out laughing - she's going to be the death of you, you swear - before pulling her into a heated kiss.

“Yes, Penelope, we can do ‘it’ as long as you're okay with it.” You murmur before she places another kiss on your lips.

Your fingers dig into her waist as you kiss her with more fervor and intensity, and you'd be tempted to just have her right then and there if you weren't too concerned about being watched.

“Bedroom?” You ask, and Penelope moans out a ‘yes’ as the two of you clumsily make your way upstairs, pulling and pushing at whatever fabric was in the way.

When you reach your bedroom door, she stops kissing you for a moment.

“This is the best date- no, the best day of my life!” She quickly says before grabbing at your shirt.

“I'm glad to hear it.” You pull her into your bedroom before shutting the door behind you, leaving your housemates with nothing but their imaginations as lewd sounds echo out of your bedroom all night long.

[sanccharine]

pen, the love of my life is here ! everyone step back 🫷😌🫸

she is so cutie patootie and you had me smiling like a fool the entire time. she deserves the world, and so do you katie.

one question tho, katie why do you write like you're running out of time ?

[kit-kat-katie]

Old Flame, New Sparks

a/n: After a year of silence, I have emerged with a new obsession that I just simply had to write about. Sue me for wanting to be in the middle of the Eddie-Volt sandwich. I giggle every time I see them, they're just so my type AHHHHH- (also ty @sanccharine for being just as insufferable about the breaker box boys as I am <333)

pairing(s): Eddie x Reader x Volt (romantic)

tw: implied sexual situations, reader has a toxic ex that demeans and belittles them, injuries sustained by electric shock

summary: After months of not contacting your ex, a moment of weakness causes you to consider going back to them. With the electrifying support of Volt and Eddie, you're able to close that chapter in your life for good. - 6.3k words!

“Cocktail or mocktail?”

“Mocktail, please.” You happily respond as Beverly grabs a strainer, shakers and mixing glass from the bar in front of her.

“So you're going to the Breaker Box tonight?”

Warmth floods to your cheeks - were your evening habits really that predictable? - but you try not to show it.

“Why do you say that?”

“Well, you only order cocktails if you plan on going to bed straight afterwards. Mocktails, on the other hand, are something you order if you have plans later…” She trails off with a light blush on her face. “I'm not trying to pry! I just heard that you like to visit the Breaker Box at night, so I put two and two together.”

You're in awe at the way Beverly masterfully pours your mocktail into a glass - bartending truly is an art, and she has refined her craft (minus the occasional broken glass).

She slides the glass over to you with an expectant look as you take a sip.

“Wow, Bev, this is really good!” You shower her with praise, which causes her to blush harder. “Don't worry - even though I'm a regular at the Breaker Box, you're still my favorite bartender.”

With a wink, you take another sip of your glass as Beverly does her best not to drop her bartender equipment. 

“Re-Really?” She shyly asks as you nod. “That means so much to me!”

As you finish the rest of your drink, Beverly cleans the bar and prepares to close for the night.

“I'll see you soon, Bev!” You wave to her before exiting the bar.

She happily waves back as you open the door, which pulls you from the interior of Bev's bar to the middle of your kitchen.

You quickly take your dateviators off as the sun sinks further into the horizon.

Although Beverly was right - you were going to the Breaker Box tonight - you just didn't feel like drinking tonight.

A familiar ding! from your phone causes a pit in your stomach to form as you check your messages.

???: Why do you keep blocking the numbers I text you with?

Just talk to me. That's all I want. One simple conversation with you so we can fully end our relationship.

You scoff at the thought of ‘fully ending your relationship’, since that has yet to be the result of one of these conversations. You talk, they somehow get all sappy and romantic on you, you take them back until you remember how toxic they were, and you block them until they manage to break down your walls, chip by chip. 

You ended things with them, permanently, six months ago, and it was the longest you had ever been without them since you met. You had felt yourself start to slip back into that toxic cycle when the dateviators arrived at your door.

Since then, you haven't had the need to check your phone for their messages, and if you happen to see them, you'd just block each number that came through.

Something about tonight, however, causes you to falter. Maybe it's the fatigue from the day, or the lack of sleep due to Nightmare's sudden appearance last night, but you're considering sending something back to your ex.

Damn, maybe I should've had Beverly make me a cocktail.

For now, you're able to gracefully slide your phone into your pocket. The urge to text them passes as quickly as you came, and you find yourself drained as the end of the day approaches.

I really need a spark to help me get through the rest of today.

With as much motivation as you can muster, you walk from the kitchen to the upstairs portion of your house, where the literal breaker box awaits you.

You gently place the dateviators over your eyes, and you swing open the breaker box door in order to get to the interior of the Breaker Box.

A gentle buzz surrounds the room, from the crowd and the lighting alike, as you step away from the door.

“Hello, love,” Dorian says from behind you, “Volt's wandering around and Eddie's somewhere behind the bar. They've been looking for you since they opened - Eddie especially. Just don't tell them that I said anything, yeah?”

“Of course, Dorian, and thank you.” You look back and offer him a friendly wave before walking further into the Breaker Box.

The crowd is a bit thicker than usual, due to the open mic night that's drawn in talent from all over your house, but you're thankful for the extra time to sit with your thoughts.

You encouraged Eddie and Volt to be open with you, but would they be just as kind as you were to them? Especially with such a vulnerable topic that made you feel so weak and queasy inside?

Part of you hopes that you'll run into Volt first - his flurry of affection and sweet nothings will melt your worries away and jolt your senses back to normal. He'll sweeten you up before he notices that anything is wrong with your demeanor… hopefully.

The other part of you wants to find Eddie at the bar, so he can make you a nice drink that can nurse your worries away. You'll throw playful jabs and small teases at each other until a smile lights up your face again. There's something comforting about the apparent coldness in his eyes - a calm wave amongst the wild sea - that pulls you in every time.

You're pulled out of your thoughts by another annoying ding! on your phone, and you feel the people next to you glare as you check your phone.

???: Please, baby, I'll do anything for another chance.

Can I see you tomorrow?

You can't help but roll your eyes before stuffing your phone back into your pocket, but not before you turn your ringer to vibrate instead.

With a sour expression, you turn away from the crowd and march towards the bar. As much as you'd like to drown in Volt's presence, you really needed that fucking drink right now.

A few bartenders catch your eye, but they quickly gesture towards the end of the bar, where Eddie sits.

A distinct coldness appears to radiate from him, where no one will approach or bother him, but it softens once Eddie notices you.

His posture shifts from lackadaisical to attentive and focused as you take a seat next to him.

“Drink?” He offers while not looking your way.

You hum in response, which causes him to get up from his seat and walk around to the bar area.

“Long day?”

You turn away from the crowd and stage to look at Eddie.

“Yeah. You?”

“Always.” 

You place a hand on the counter before resting your head on it.

“What are you making me?”

“Whatever you'd like, live wire.”

Volt's nickname for you still feels foreign from Eddie's mouth, but you certainly don't mind him using it.

“Surprise me.” 

To anyone else, your conversation would sound just like any other patron-bartender conversation, but there was enough subtlety between the two of you to suggest more.

It's in the way Eddie rolls up his sleeves excruciatingly slow, so you have all the time to ogle over his forearms and hands. When he notices where your eyes are focused, a small smirk forms on his face as he softly laughs, but he chooses to say nothing.

Or maybe it's in the way that you respond, by taking off your jacket to reveal a t-shirt that lands somewhere between tight enough to reveal what's underneath and loose enough to leave something to the imagination.

Eddie definitely notices the change in your attire, given the small blush on his cheeks, but he focuses on making your drink as you feel your phone vibrate against your pocket.

Can't you just take my silence as a no, for once?

Annoyingly, you're pulled out of the intimate moment, but you do your best to refocus on what's in front of you. You set your phone on the bar table, in an attempt to forget about your ex, as a drink is slid over to you.

The vibrant colors of the cocktail lure you in for a taste, and you're pleasantly surprised by how much you like this drink. Although you weren't one for cocktails, this one just so happens to incorporate your favorite flavors into a drink that you won't forget.

Despite not opening up about your alcohol preferences, Eddie still managed to figure out what you liked.

Or maybe he asked around the house?

“So?”

Despite not trying to look for approval, Eddie leans in and looks at you expectantly - he really wants you to like what he's made.

He definitely asked someone about my preferences.

“It's wonderful, Eddie. Thank you.” You offer him a warm yet tired smile, which causes a soft blush to appear on his face.

“You're welcome.”

He begins to clean up the bartending station as the guests settle in at various booths and tables in preparation for the show tonight. You still don't see Volt among the crowd, but somehow you can still feel his energy radiating off of every surface in the room.

As Eddie settles in on the bar seat next to you, you notice that he doesn't have a drink in his hand.

“Nothing for you?”

“I'd rather drink after the show, in case anything needs to be fixed up.” Ever-the-workaholic, Eddie refuses to indulge himself until everything is taken care of. “Are you going to stay after and help?”

“Of course.”

You'd like to say more, but you're interrupted by the intentional blinking of the lights, which signals that it's almost showtime.

This is the first time that you lay eyes on Volt, who is working on charming a customer into having just one more drink for the night, but you're too distracted by Eddie to say anything.

You notice that his arm is resting on the bar table, right behind you, but he hesitates on making contact with your skin.

You smile at the gesture - he's cute without trying to be - and you lean closer to Eddie until you're resting your head on his shoulder. Then, and only then, does his arm wrap around you to pull you even closer to him.

You decide to take it one step further, by nuzzling your head in your shoulder, which causes him to grumble.

“Comfortable?” Eddie grumbles in pretend annoyance.

He's enjoying this way more than he says he is.

You simply sigh contentedly as he gives your shoulder a light squeeze.

“Good.” He murmurs softly, only for you to hear.

You do your best to hide your laughter as Volt takes the stage. His magnetic presence draws every eye from every corner of the room as he introduces the first singer for the night.

Before he leaves the stage, his eyes find yours, and he offers you a flirtatious wink. Your face heats up from the gestures, and Volt smiles at the result.

The night flies by in a blur of music and people, and you're only aware of the passage of time when Eddie occasionally squeezes your shoulder, to see if you're still awake.

This would be far from the first time that you've fallen asleep in the bar - sometimes you and Eddie worked for a long time after the bar closed, and the combination of physical and mental exhaustion caused you to fall asleep before he could offer you a drink at the bar. Or you're listening to Eddie and Volt chat about the bar, while curled up against Volt's chest, and the mix of their voices and the soft thrum of electricity is enough to lull you to sleep.

Tonight, however, sleepiness seemed to avoid you. You were tired, sure, but your eyes seemed to be screwed open. Your phone was far enough away from you, for now, but it felt like a ticking time bomb was laying next to you as you awaited your doom.

Eddie notices - of fucking course he notices, he always does - and one-too-many glances to your phone causes him to say something between the second-to-last and last act of the night.

“Is there someone you'd rather be seeing?” 

You know he's teasing, but you can't help but internally gag at the thought of your ex-lover being as close to you as Eddie is right now. You don't even want them in the same house as you, or even the same neighborhood or city.

Normally, you'd shoot back with something like, “Nobody but you, loverboy,” and you'd delight as his face discovered a new shade of pink to display on his handsome features.

But tonight didn't feel like a normal night.

Instead, you let out a deflated sigh before looking up at Eddie.

“It's quite the opposite, actually. I'd do anything to not see this person again.”

And there it slips out.

There it goes, flowing out of your mouth like a river of shit headed downstream. Luckily, you manage to save any remaining grace you have by shutting the fuck up, but the bomb's already went off.

The concern etched on Eddie's features makes your heart pound, but you still feel horrifically bad inside.

Despite being in more… compromising positions with Eddie and Volt, this is the most vulnerable you've ever felt with one of them.

And it fucking blows.

You can tell he's trying to speak, trying to say something that'll make you feel better, but the words don't come out. This isn't as simple as cutting your hand on a broken bar glass or accidentally shocking yourself with a fuse - Eddie can't gently scold you while wrapping your wound with spare bandages he keeps on hand. You wish he would pull your hand to his face, just as he would in one of those moments, to place a small kiss on the injury so “you'll feel better soon so you can get back to work”. 

You steal the words from his mouth as you try to regain control of the situation and your emotions.

“Eddie, can you please make me another drink?”

You hate how needy, desperate, and distant you sound, but you need a quick pick-me-up, and if he's not going to offer it in words or affection, then you'll drown your sorrows in booze instead.

He says nothing, opting to press a very gentle kiss on your scalp before letting go of you.

“One more, then you're cut off. Can't have you trying to hurt yourself before we do any real work.”

You softly chuckle to yourself as you refocus on the stage. The final act is just wrapping up, and soon Volt will retake the stage to thank the crowd for coming tonight. 

You find yourself awaiting his arrival as Eddie slides you another cocktail. In return, you hand him your empty glass. He dutifully begins to clean the glass as you watch him work. 

You can't believe that you're letting some person from your past ruin what's in front of you.

You find yourself wanting to apologize, but the words won't reach your lips. Besides, what would you apologize for? Being a total fucking buzzkill?

Eventually, as Volt returns to the stage, Eddie retakes his seat next to you. His arm wraps around you again - this time, he holds you just a little bit tighter as you curl up next to him.

After Volt's ending remarks, people begin to file out of the Breaker Box. They mutter praises for the bar amid their scathing reviews of each performer. You always enjoyed the extra chatter that came with the bar, and part of you always missed that when you were closing up the bar. That, however, was made up in the fact that you had Eddie and Volt's undivided attention after the bar closed.

Just as you're about to see Volt, a wave of sleepiness finally washes over you, which causes you to rest your head on Eddie's chest.

“Live wire-” He gently warns you against further action, but you choose to ignore him as you press yourself against him.

“Stop squirming. You're making me uncomfortable.” You mutter as you hear someone walk towards you.

“You're uncomfortable? What about me?”

“You'll get over it.” You mumble into his chest, and you can hear him softly laugh as he adjusts his posture to make you more comfortable.

“Fine.” He begrudgingly says before moving his arm from your shoulder to your waist in order to better support you.

You feel yourself slip into the comforting embrace of sleep, but you force your eyes open when you hear Volt's voice.

“Live wire!”

You want to get up and greet him, but you are oh-so-comfortable where you are; however, you do weakly offer him one of your hands, which Volt gladly takes.

“Tired already, my spark?” Volt says before pressing a warm kiss to the back of your hand. “I should've caught you sooner, then.”

“I was looking for you, but I couldn't find you in the crowd, so I went and sat with Eddie.” You try to hide the disappointment in your voice, but it doesn't work on Volt.

“I'm sorry to disappoint, live wire. I'll happily make it up to you later, if you'll allow me to.”

“Please do.” You sleepily say as Eddie's other hand rubs up and down your back.

“They've been out of it all night, Volt. I got them to open up, but-”

“-But?”

“-it seemed like a sore spot, so I didn't want to pry.”

“Eddie, I'm sure you could've asked them something.”

“I didn't want to push them away after all they've done for us. What if I said the wrong thing and messed it all up? What then-”

You lift your head up when your phone starts to erratically buzz on the bar table.

“Oh, for fuck's sake.” You swear under your breath before laying your head back down. “Just leave me alone. I don't want to see you anymore.”

Eddie and Volt don't speak for a moment, and you're sure that they're sharing a questioning glance about what just happened.

“Are you talking about another object? If so, you'll find that Eddie and I can be very convincing-”

“Volt.” Eddie warns his other half, who chooses to ignore him.

“No, it's another human.” You softly say with a twinge of pain in your voice. “A human I should've let go of a long, long time ago.”

There's a beat of silence, between your confession and whatever reaction awaits you from Eddie and Volt.

“A human lover, I assume?” Volt asks with bated breath.

“Ex-lover, but yeah.” You feel a bit guilty after admitting all of this, but a weight feels lifted off of your chest.

It's enough to tempt you back into sleepiness, where you feel your eyes slowly shut as the world around you dims slowly into nothingness.

You can still hear Eddie and Volt, but they sound out-of-reach and far away, despite your closeness.

“My sweet, poor little wire… I suppose it wouldn't hurt to shock some sense into this human, right?”

“Volt.”

“Worry not, my sweet Eddie. It's nothing like you're thinking.” You can hear the smile in his words, but they still have some bite and agitation to them.

“Good night.” You murmur to no one in particular as sleep finally overcomes your body.

~

Your bed happily cradles your body as you awake from your slumber. You aren't hungover from the night before, but you still can't remember exactly what happened. 

You were with Eddie for most of the night, and you remember seeing Volt after the bar closed, but that was about it.

I'm sure I'd remember if it was anything important.

As tempting as it is to roll over and go back to sleep, you have a few promises to fulfill with a few special objects in your house.

Your dateviators await you on your nightstand, along with your phone and a napkin that displays the Breaker Box logo on it.

You reach for the napkin first, and you're happy to see a small message on the napkin, written in Volt’s handwriting.

Sleep well, live wire.

~ E & V

You open the drawer on your nightstand and place the napkin with the small pile of other napkins that you've managed to collect from your nights out.

You go to grab your phone, to see if Sam or that strange Tinfoil Hat character has texted you, but you're stopped by the ring of a doorbell.

Your doorbell is ringing.

You fly out of bed before assembling a quick outfit of something that is moderately presentable. You're mindful enough to store the dateviators in a safe place, in case your company is someone who's looking for their whereabouts. 

You grab your phone as the doorbell continues to ring.

“I'm coming. Hold on!” You yell before leaving your bedroom and descending down the stairs. 

Your hand grabs the doorknob, but it refuses to open despite you unlocking it a few seconds ago.

“Dorian…” You mumble under your breath, and the door opens before you start lecturing your door.

Your mouth hangs wide open as soon as you see who's on the other side with a bundle of roses in their hand. 

“Hey.” Your ex gives you a warm smile before handing you the flowers. “I got these this morning. They made me think of you.”

“Oh… um, thank you.” You awkwardly take the flowers from them as you try to figure out what they're doing here. “Would you like to come in?”

“I would, since you're the one who invited me over.”

You move out of the way as your eyebrows furrowed in confusion - you certainly would remember texting them, right?

Your ex heads further into the house as you shut your front door and pull out your phone to check your messages.

Surely enough, there's a plentiful stream of messages between the two of you, which only serves to confuse you further. The messages you sent don't even sound like you - they alternate between being too sappy or too passive-aggressive for your texting style.

It's almost like two different people wrote them…

You shake your head as you follow your ex into the kitchen, where they have already grabbed a vase and filled it with water.

“I still remember where everything is, as strange as it sounds. I don't remember the water in your sink being that hot - is there something wrong with your water heater?” 

They place the vase on your kitchen table, and you carefully position the flowers in the vase.

“Last I checked, it was working fine.” You shrug before gesturing for them to take a seat. “Tea or coffee?”

“Coffee, please.” Your ex answers, and you happily oblige them as your mind tries to wrap itself around the predicament you're in.

It's blatantly awkward between the two of you, and you're not quite sure what to tell them about the situation you find yourself in. 

“Listen, I wanted to talk about us-” They start as you place a coffee cup next to them before you take a seat on the opposite side of the kitchen table. 

“-I do too.” You interrupt them before taking a deep breath. “I know I reached out to you last night and told you to come here, but I needed to tell you this in person.”

Awaiting your answer, your ex leans forward.

“We're done,” Your voice is shaky, but you manage to say the thing you've been wanting to say for years, “for good.”

Bewildered, they look at you before letting out a dry laugh.

“You're not serious, are you? You're just playing hard to get, right?”

“No,” You shake your head, “I'm serious.”

You want to shrink into nothingness when you sense their anger starting to emerge, but you have to stand your ground soon if you want to truly be done with this person. The part of you that would grovel and beg for their attention and grace has died, and a newfound sense of bravery emanates from you.

“You play with my feelings all night, getting all hot and cold with me, just to pull this shit?” They stand up suddenly, but you refuse to let them see any fear from you. “What is fucking wrong with you?”

You'd like to shoot that question back to them, but you don't feel like launching yourself into an argument that would make Dirk and Harper's fights look like child's play.

You, instead, turn your head away and begin to fiddle with your fingers from under the table.

“Is there someone else?”

Heat rises to your face, and your ex bitterly scoffs before slamming their hands on the table.

“I fucking knew it. You've been sleeping around, like a whore-”

“-I'm not a whore.” You respond with an equal amount of malice as you slowly rise from your seat. “And who would care if I was? We aren't together anymore.”

As the argument continues to heat up, you and your ex fail to notice the way the lights above you flicker and respond to your words.

“You're still mine-”

“-since fucking when? The last time you told me I was yours, you cheated on me three days later with my best friend!”

“That was a one-time mistake!” They scream before throwing their hands up in the air. “Are you incapable of forgiving and forgetting?”

“You broke my heart!” Your voice cracks as hot tears threaten to fall from your face. 

You're so close to cracking and allowing them to comfort you, and they know it. They just have to push your buttons a little more, and then you're theirs again.

“Fine. Go off and enjoy your other lovers. I can't wait for them to see how boring you are. When they dump you, you'll come crawling back to me, just like the pathetic little thing that you are.” 

A small tear runs down your face, and your throat is strangled by all of the words you want to unleash onto them. You feel - no, you are - a blubbering mess, and you will do anything for this argument to be over with.

A victorious smile appears on their face, but they're interrupted by the power cutting out across your house.

You thank your lucky stars as a convenient interruption will allow you to escape for a few moments. 

“Sorry, there must be something wrong with the breaker box. I'll quickly go reset the power-”

“-let me. You were always terrible with handiwork around the house.” 

Your ex brushes past you, and you take a moment to compose yourself before following them up the stairs.

“Where's the breaker box?” They ask as you reach the upstairs portion of your house.

“Second door on your right.” You say before grabbing your phone and turning on a flashlight for them to see with.

Although it was light outside, this part of your house didn't have many windows, so it was poorly illuminated without any ceiling lights.

Your ex quickly opens the door and proceeds to open up the breaker box as you provide them with enough light to work with.

“You're directing power to the wrong things. This switch should go the other way-”

As they reach out to touch a switch on the box, a forgotten conversation echoes in the back of your mind.

“My sweet, poor little wire… I suppose it wouldn't hurt to shock some sense into this human, right?”

“Volt.”

“Worry not, my sweet Eddie. It's nothing like you're thinking.” 

“Wait, be careful, you might get-” 

You try to reach out to them, but it's far too late. A loud crackle emerges from the breaker box once they touch it, and they recoil in pain.

“-shocked.”

“FUCK!” They screech as you cover your mouth with your hand. “What is wrong with your breaker box?”

“I don't know.” Choosing to play dumb, you shrug your shoulders. “Maybe you should try another switch?”

“Yeah, genius, I was planning on doing that.”

Resting their injured hand on their side, they take their other hand and attempt to touch another switch.

Your ex gets a similar result to their first attempt- a loud crackling sound followed by their howls of pain as they clutch both of their hands to their chest.

You can't help the laughter that escapes from you - this feels like sweet, sweet karmic justice after all of the times they've ripped your heart out of your chest and stomped on it.

“Oh, you think this is so funny, huh?” They grumble before hesitating to grab another switch. “Why don't you try touching a switch, jackass?”

“Sure!” You gleefully move past your ex as you shine your phone flashlight directly on the breaker box.

Instead of reaching for a switch, you place your hand on the side of the box.

A bit of electricity courses through your veins - not enough to mess with the beating of your heart, but enough to let you know that Eddie and Volt are there with you.

“Alright, show’s over, boys.” You mumble under your breath. “Help me out?”

Another jolt of power goes through your arm, which you take as a yes. Your hand goes to touch the first switch on the left, but the power turns on before you even have a chance to shock yourself.

“Thank you.” You quietly say before your ex pushes you aside.

“There's no fucking way that worked!”

You collide with one of the walls in the closet, and you grumble in pain. The hallway light flickers dangerously as your ex continues to investigate the breaker box.

“I mean, you didn't even touch anything!” 

They attempt to close the breaker box door, but you see sparks fly as their skin makes contact with the breaker box again.

They let out a loud, frustrated scream as you allow yourself to smile and laugh.

“You set this up to make me look like a fucking idiot, huh?” Your ex learns from their first three attempts as they look at the circuitry without touching it.

“I think you did that yourself, to be honest.” You mutter under your breath, and a small buzzing sound comes from the breaker box.

Almost like a nod of agreement.

“Whatever. I'm done with this shit. Where's your band aids?” They grumble to you.

“Downstairs bathroom, under the sink.” You say as they step out of the closet. “Just be careful, that door likes to get… stuck sometimes.” You give them a gentle warning about Dorian as they angrily march down the stairs.

Once they are fully out of earshot, you turn off your phone flashlight before looking at the breaker box.

“I hope you know that you would have actually killed them if you went any further,” You begin to scold Eddie and Volt, but you're powerless to fight the shit-eating grin on your face. “but that was funny and, honestly, well-deserved.”

A happy buzzing noise comes from your breaker box. They're pleased that you're pleased with their efforts. 

“I'll see you later, alright?” You quietly say before closing the breaker box for the day.

You swear you can hear a bit of buzzing, as if Eddie and Volt are chatting amongst each other, as you head down the stairs to say goodbye to a guest that has long overstayed their welcome in your house, thoughts, and heart.

Your ex seems more than happy to leave as they await your presence at the front door.

“Can't believe that the stupid band aid container closed on my hand.” They grumble as they look at their bandaged hands.

“I think it's time you go. For good.” You cross your arms and lean against the end of the stairway railing as they scoff.

“Yeah, I don't want to be in this shithole any longer than I have to.”

“Stop calling me and texting me from different numbers.” This harshness is cold and unfamiliar from you, but it seems to work as they pause before nodding and agreeing. “Get out of my house.”

“Don't have to tell me twice.” 

Your ex opens the door with ease as you stand and watch them leave.

“Don't let the door kick your ass on the way out.” You cheerfully say as they head through the doorway.

“What is that supposed to mean-” They're barely out of your house before the door slams shut in their face.

You can't help but let out a hearty laugh, one that rings all the way through your house. A weight that has been on your shoulders for years has finally been lifted, and you've never felt freer in your life.

I think it's time to properly start my day.

~

By the time night falls on your house, you're dressed in something a little more formal as you aim your dateviators at the breaker box.

You open the door to the panel of switches, and once again, you're pulled into the bar.

Dorian offers you a quick nod as you enter the bar.

“I didn't think you were coming tonight, considering today's events.”

“Oh?” You turn to face him. “You mean when you slammed the front door in the face of my ex?”

“Just doing my job - keeping the bad ones out and the good ones in.” He cracks a rare smile that you happily reciprocate.

You don't have any more time to question Dorian as Volt approaches you with an alluring smile.

“Live wire, you look fantastic tonight!” He outstretches his hand, and you gladly place your hand in his.

He bends down and kisses your hand - an unusual approach, since he usually brings your hand to his lips.

“Volt-” You try to talk to him, but he's simply not having it.

“-my spark, I simply must assure you that today's antics were entirely my fault, and Eddie had not contributed at all-”

“Volt-” You attempt to use a tone similar to Eddie's, but he continues on.

“-though, if you do have some sort of punishment in mind, I'm sure Eddie wouldn't mind taking part of the blame from my shoulders so we can experience the punishment together-”

You place your free hand on his chest, and he finally pauses long enough for you to get a word in.

“Volt, I'm not mad. I know you're trying to protect Eddie, but I'm not upset at either of you.” A gentle sigh leaves your lips. “I'm just relieved that it's finally over.”

Volt seems a bit relieved with your admission, and he pulls you closer to his chest.

“I'm glad to hear that, my light.” He softly says. “It's a slow night, so I'll be able to give you my undivided attention.”

“I like the sound of that.” You tease him back before pulling him in for a kiss.

Electricity flows through every part of your body when you kiss Volt, and this time is no exception. You wonder how your heart can continue beating at the same rhythm when he's putting this much of himself into you.

You only part for air, and when you get enough air in your lungs, Volt recaptures your lips for another hungry kiss.

He pulls you to the side, away from prying eyes as your lips continue to meet with his again and again and again. 

You're only interrupted by a quiet scoff, which causes you to pull away from Volt and look right into Eddie's eyes.

He would look pissed, to any onlooker, but there's a bit of intrigue and want in his gaze.

“Volt, don't you think you should start the show before you attract any more attention to yourself?”

Volt simply laughs before pressing one final kiss to your lips.

“Of course, Eddie,” He pauses to look at you, “but we're not finished here, live wire.”

Volt pulls himself away from you before planting a kiss on Eddie's cheek.

“I'll see you two after the show.”

With a seductive wink, he heads towards the stage as you bite your lip and turn towards Eddie.

You're full of renewed energy from being attached to Volt, so you'd love to do nothing more than pounce on Eddie and smother him in kisses and affection.

“Don't look at me like that, live wire.” His face heats up and he looks away for a moment. 

You don't want to fluster him too badly, so you choose to wrap your arms around him and press a kiss to his temple.

“...You're irresistible.” Eddie says after a brief period of heated silence.

“But you love it.” You whisper as your face gets closer to his.

You can taste the whiskey sour on his breath as he breathes out for a moment, in an attempt to slow his beating heart.

You let him make the next move, and it doesn't take long for him to close the distance and gently kiss you.

The taste of whiskey coats your mouth as his hands tightly grip your waist. He parts from you much sooner than you'd like, but he still manages to make you breathless.

“You're feeling alright?” He asks as you try to form a coherent sentence.

“Never been better.” A genuine smile appears on your lips, and his smile matches yours, just for a moment.

“Good. I'll need you to help me with a few extra repairs, since we weren't able to work last night.” 

You whine softly at the thought of working after the day you've had, but you're quickly shut up by Eddie when he gently squeezes your hips.

“I promise that Volt and I will make it worth your while.”

With that, Eddie leaves you in a flustered state as you watch Volt briefly entertain the crowd.

Who needs to think about ex-flames when you have those two to light up your life?

[sanccharine]

i am here to enable and be insufferable <3

[sanccharine]

happy bts day !

[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 !

[attagirl-joy]

AHHH YOU'RE SO WELCOME 🥹 but thank you for writing such an amazing series!! Oh how I enjoy reading your work that rips my heart out on a random Thursday ❤️

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

I said "ah oop-" JUMPSCARE 😧🫣 GET HIM OFF MY SCREEN OR LET ME AT 'EM‼️‼️

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.  

Is it really a fic written by Mala if there's not a paragraph that makes you rethink your entire being?

but seriously, I had to shut off my phone after reading this. this is so gut-wrenching and relatable in friendship/familial bonds, and I HATE it. The most hurtful words that have come my way are from people that I truly loved and trusted 😭 oh Mala you truly have a way of capturing these complex emotions and relationships and putting them into words. like I love you for it but also fuck you for the emotional devastation I feel after reading your work

oh, and on a completely unrelated note, the tattoo's should totally be dipper and mabel's symbols from gravity falls if the reader and their best friend have a family-like relationship :)

[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 !

[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

[hanavbara]

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

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[alicentsgf]

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