#in front of you

[sanccharine]

01 | half of me

single parent au, neighbours au

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

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

summary: 

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

masterlist | chapter 2

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Though, your somberness was quickly thwarted. 

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

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

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

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

You couldn’t help it. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What the fuck are you doing?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then you heard his voice. 

And then, you heard someone else’s. 

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

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

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

The woman underneath your fiancé was the first to shriek. 

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

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

The woman was also the first to apologise. 

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

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

He cannot be serious. 

“Get out.” 

Silence engulfed the master bedroom. 

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

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

Then the scene broke. 

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

“Get the fuck out. Now.” 

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

“Out.” 

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

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

“What about my clothes? Let me just—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Today was less than ideal.

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

And yet, the sentiment felt different now. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

How the fuck do you mention this to your parents?

any feedback is much appreciated.

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

masterlist | chapter 2

[cuckolding-books-library]

Your wife looked you squarely in the eye but just for a second, to see that you were in your chair, subdued, submissive, about to go through your most humbling experience. You were about to see her breathing heavily, her sexual arousal building-up, moaning, maybe even begging. You were about to witness his cock taking her, sliding in and out in her wetness, and ultimately sperming her … and your wife coming on his cock. But you would choose a thousand times to undergo that harsh humbling because it’s in your nature and a woman like her deserves a man like him.

[diorysuss]

nuzi haters: please stop complaing about how much you hate it it’s getting a bit annoying

nuzi lovers: please stop bragging that the ship is canon it’s getting a bit annoying

[lazylittledragon]

can't believe we're all adults being forced into the club penguin level of censorship in 2024

[shinesurge]

Honestly I can tell you finding out art was made by AI really does immediately, legitimately sour it for me, like people will trot this out as a Gotcha for anti-AI people but it's just making it clear they don't consider art to be the conversation that it is lol. It's similar to the way Harry Potter immediately soured for me because engaging with it while knowing the kind of heart Rowling is writing from changes the way the work feels; there isn't any moralizing or whatever that I have to do, it's easy to drop it because it's rotted in my hands.

"Oh but you LIKED this song before, nothing changed!" The conversational partner did. A very large portion of what is interesting to me about art is thinking of why the creator chose that instrumentation, or what made them want to make the thing in the first place. Finding out I've been talking to a wall completely removes an entire third of the force that art is to me, and I can't argue that anything about art or its consumption is Objectively Correct but I can argue it's fucking boring lmao

[10001gecs]

i think there’s something to be said about how the gig economy makes things ostensibly more convenient but also worse. and not just like, doordash guys take too long to get to you so your food is cold. but because the business model is centered around a million people doing work without any familiarity with what theyre doing and decentralized from the businesses they’re working with, you get service that’s being reinvented from scratch every time it’s purchased.

it happens all the time that I’ll order an uber and when they pick me up, they’ll just stop in the middle of the street with their hazards on, making me dodge traffic to get to them and pissing off the cars around them. and then I’ll get in the car and chat with the driver and find out they’re actually from two counties over and they’ve never driven here before, so they don’t know where parking is or whether they’re heading to a wide open parking lot or a busy downtown. and then you start to realize that they’re not being a dick, they’re just given as little information as possible every time they pick up a ride so they have to just guess how and where to pick up a passenger. and since they’re paid by ride, they’re incentivized to pick you up as fast as possible. and all the people who cared about finding a safe place to pick you up quit the app or stopped doing that so all you’re left with is the pissed off cockroach motherfuckers.

and then you see that this happens with every fucking app. doordash sucks because you pay 8 million dollars for delivery and you still have to hike half a mile to find the guy because he got lost in your apartment complex. Instacart sucks because the guy picking your groceries couldn’t care less about getting ripe fruit and replaces your heavy cream with shaving cream. customer support for all this sucks because the guy helping you can’t do anything more than offer you $5 credit, beg for your forgiveness, and hope you get out of the queue fast enough for him to go to the bathroom. because all of them aren’t given enough time to do a good job or enough money to care.

and every time a gig worker makes the experience suck for you, it’s a rational decision. they’re evaluating the money they’re being paid and if it’s worth getting paid less to do a good job, and correctly deciding that it isn’t. so you can’t even get mad, because you’d do it too. and so the company manages to pass on its race to the bottom to its lowest-paid employees.

[mosstrades]

THE FRAMING. CAUGHT BETWEEN TWO OF HER. OH GOD.

[saymio]

In Ho headcanons | (NSFW)

Pairing: Hwang In-ho (player 001/the front man) x Fem!reader

Genre: headcanons, smut

Warning: dead dove do not eat, manipulation, dub/noncon, age gap, might be more but im too lazy to write it down

A/N: not proof read. thanos story in the works rn!! I have writers block so to help a little I'm making some hcs 4 this baddie (prob ooc)

hwang inho, the man that protected you from Thanos and his stupid friend during the first day of the games. he shoo'ed them away. stopping their harassment and took you with him with the rest of the group

hwang inho, the man that gives you his milk. reassuring you every time that its okay for you to have it, and it'll help you get stronger.

hwang inho, the man that checks up on you throughout the night. standing over you to make sure you're getting your nights rests. making sure no creeps try touching your delicate skin.

hwang inho, the man that lets touches linger a little longer than they should, whether its on your hands, thighs, waist..his touches feel more than platonic

hwang inho, the man that tells the guards to make sure you stay safe, to kill a player that hasn't broken the rules if they had to. anything to make sure you stay safe.

hwang inho, the man that would excuse himself to the bathroom just to touch himself to the thought of you. whether its your calm voice or plush hands that feel so soft and delicate...he just couldn't help it.

hwang inho, the man that squeezes your thighs when no ones looking...and when you express discomfort he used his past generosity as an excuse for it.

hwang inho, the man that will kiss you in the middle of the night with no warning. telling you to be quiet and take the kiss because if it were any other man it would've been worse.

hwang inho, the man that will find the perfect timing to sneak away from everyone else with you. he'll make you strip for him in the bathroom. savoring every inch of your body before he sends you away, leaving him in there alone to masturbate.

hwang inho, the man that wont let you sleep. he'll grope and squeeze your thighs, tits and ass. feeling you up while you hold in tears.

hwang inho, the man that reminds you this is your fault when you cry to him during a bathroom strip session. expressing how uncomfortable this makes you and how you don't want it anymore.

hwang inho, the man that will tell you nothing in the world is free. and your body will be the payment he receives for being so generous with you.

hwang inho, the man that gets hard thinking about your age gap. how youre only 19 and he's in his 40's..he loves it.

hwang inho, the man that slips his fingers inside of you when the lights are off, fingering you aggressively. reminding you once again that it'd be so much worse if he wasn't such a nice man.

hwang inho, the man that captures you during the raid against the guards. forcing you to stare into the eyes of your past friends as he kills them.

hwang inho, the man that keeps you as his pet after the games end. reminding you you're lucky because he spoils you with money.

hwang inho, the man that doesn't let you socialize with anyone after he's gotten his grip on you.

Another not: this one is pretty short compared to my last fic, this was to just try n get me out of writers block. expect a Thanos fic to pop up tmr. sorry if this sucked/was ooc, I tried my best T T~~

[pseudowho]

Nanami Kento who, when asked what his sexual orientation is, simply responds "my wife".

[sanccharine]

03 | the neighbourly thing

single parent au, neighbours au 

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

warnings: swearing

summary: 

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

masterlist | chapter 2 | chapter 4

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You can call me kid.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then he extended his hand, expectant. 

If you indulge him, this would be quick. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your neighbour. San. 

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

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

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

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

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

You just stared at him. 

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

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

Plus, it was midnight. 

So this was a noise issue. 

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

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

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

To convince him, you added. 

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

That should be enough. He can leave now. 

He didn’t. 

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

“Alright, appreciate the apology.”

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

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

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

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

Nodding, you parroted. “Good night.” 

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

Shutting the door, you headed to the couch. 

Tomorrow. You will deal with all of this tomorrow.

any feedback is much appreciated.

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

masterlist | chapter 2 | chapter 4

taglist: @eternallyghosting @marvolos

send an ask to be added !

[cuckolding-books-library]

Your best friend had been flirting with your wife for a long while; she, as always, was acting a little bit shyly. He said then, “I can’t imagine anything comparable to make love to you outdoors, here, in these beautiful meadows.” He fucked her on that bed of fresh grass and you guess she came at least twice before his cock spurted deep inside her. After they finished, it took you a little while to remember that you were holding her panties in your hands and you knelt to help her to put them on.

[trashgyrl]

inho's stupid face everytime gihun gets mad at him is so funny to me

[prlssprfctn]

Bruce: I am rather concerned. Do you all, perhaps, need an additional health check? How come most of you don't hear my commands through comms from the first time?

Barbara: That's because half of them have a music blasting in their ear at the same time.

Bruce: What—

Damian: Nonsense. Neither I nor Cain do this.

Jason, shrugging: Your loss.

Barbara: And here goes a guy, who listened Hozier's Nobody Soldier and Rammstein's Rein Raus during today's shoot-out.

Dick, giggling: Of course, he would listen that—

Barbara: What are you laughing about? You had your female K-POP bands blasting on the background.

Dick: I was streaming—

Tim: During shoot-out?

Barbara: At least, they were listening music. You put Kon's forty minute lasting voice message on.

Tim, shrugging: I am not ashamed. I am multitasking, if anything.

Bruce, concerned: ...Do you all realise that all of this could serious—

(The bickering sounds intensify)

[iminrage]

the batkids are strong in their own rights. they're used to protecting their friends and loved ones. they are the protective one in their teams.

however, whenever Bruce is around, all of a sudden they became kittens held by the mother. all those protective instincts? gone. they are now with their father and their job is to duck or satay away or run to safety when instructed. jumping in front of harm's way? that's dad's job. them's the rules.

[shadowofdarkness22]

Okay, you can't watch Gihun walk with that strut and not tell me he wouldn't be a terrifying frontman.