Series: ⇢ Pairing: San x fem!Reader ⇢ Genre: flirty af fluff, hints of angst, suggestive, kinda smutty, older reader (noona) ⇢ Synopsis: As your best friend’s maid of honor, you must endure the shameless best man’s flirting until after the wedding.
Part 6: One Less Thing - Moodboard ⇢ Genre: fluff, angst, suggestive, & slightly smutty ⇢ Warnings: language, wet daydreams, self-image issues, and self-hatred ⇢ Word Count: 8,226 i-
a/n: I feel like half of this isn’t as good as I was hoping
Series: ⇢ Pairing: San x fem!Reader ⇢ Genre: flirty af fluff, hints of angst, suggestive, kinda smutty, older reader (noona) ⇢ Synopsis: As your best friend’s maid of honor, you must endure the shameless best man’s flirting until after the wedding.
Part 5: No pic back? ⇢ Genre: fluff, angst, suggestive, & slightly smutty ⇢ Warnings: language, dirty talk, masturbation, and wet daydreams ⇢ Word Count: 4,501
Series: ⇢ Pairing: San x fem!Reader ⇢ Genre: flirty af fluff, hints of angst, suggestive, kinda smutty, older reader (noona) ⇢ Synopsis: As your best friend’s maid of honor, you must endure the shameless best man’s flirting until after the wedding.
Part 4: Across the Room ⇢ Genre: fluff, angst, & suggestive ⇢ Warnings: language ⇢ Word Count: 4,213 igotcarriedaway
Warnings: profanities, masturbating for the first time, handjob, clit play, fingering.
You took a bite of your sandwich, listening to your bestfriend talk to you and your friends about her first time with her boyfriend.
“I swear, nothing feels better than that,” your bestfriend stated, taking a sip of her mango juice. “I can do it over and over again.”
Miri laughed. “I told you you’d enjoy it! Now it’s Y/N’s turn!”
You nearly choked on your sandwich. “W-What?!”
“Y/N, I’m pretty sure you imagine Choi San fucking you until you see—”
“Shh!” you put your palm over her mouth. “We’re in public! His crazy fans might hear you!”
A few months ago, you developed a crush on one of your school’s badboys, Choi San, after he suddenly became interested in you after being partnered for an assignment. Initially, you thought he just wanted to get into your pants, but after five months of knowing him, you knew he genuinely cared about you. You couldn’t deny that you liked the boy and of course you’ve thought about dating him, but you didn’t know how he truly felt about you.
“I’ve seen the way you look at San,” your bestfriend said with a smirk. “Not the lovey-dovey look, although I’ve seen that too, but I’m talking about the I-want-you-to-dick-me-down look.” Your cheeks instantly turned a bright pink; were you really that obvious? Well, it’s not your fault San looks irresistible. The man’s a whole Greek God in your eyes.
“You should make a move on him, Y/N,” Yeonhee said.
“Yeah, get some dick,” Miri agreed.
“Guys, you’re supposed to encourage me to study, not to have sex!” you said, finishing the remaining of your sandwich. “Besides, how will I let someone else do things to me when I’ve never done anything to myself?” Sure, you’ve made out before with your ex, but there was very minimal touching over the clothes and some tongue. You never went further than that.
“Then start with yourself, genius. Explore your body and get familiar with it,” your bestfriend stated nonchalantly. “I have the perfect advice for you. Trust me, you’ll love the experience once you start exploring yourself and it’ll be even better when someone else does it for you.”
-
“Hey, mom? Do we have coconut oil?” you asked, entering her bedroom. “My lips are really chapped,” you lied, knowing your mother would definitely fall for it.
“Yeah, it’s in the kitchen in the third cabinet,” she answered. “It’s good that you’re finally using something natural and not those chemical filled products.” Oh, if only she knew. “Coconut oil is very safe and has a lot of benefits.”
“Mhmm, yeah.”
You wished your mother goodnight before you made your way to the kitchen, filling a tiny container with the oil. You couldn’t buy sexual lube at the moment and you didn’t want to wait, so this was your only option.
You went to your room, placing the tiny container on your bedside table while waiting for your parents to fall asleep. Once you were sure they were asleep, you locked your bedroom door.
You took off your clothes and lied down on your back, remembering all the advice your friends gave you.
You coated your fingers with the coconut oil before pressing it to your clit. You gently rubbed your nub in an up-and-down motion, closing your eyes while you thought of San hovering over you, imagining that your fingers were his. Your free hand moved to cup one of your breasts, giving it a gently squeeze. You could feel the heat at your hole, dripping with your essence while you increased the pace, rubbing your clit faster, imagining San slamming his cock in and out of you.
“San!” you moaned loudly, fingers moving faster on your clit; you were glad your parents’ room was downstairs and on the other side of the house. Your back arched and your jaw dropped when you felt your clit become sensitive; it felt so so good. You kept rubbing at your nub until your legs shook and your clit was overstimulated. Was that it? Did you cum? You didn’t even know. You assumed you didn’t based on what your friends described an orgasm as.
You tried to rub yourself again, but your clit was too sensitive to handle it. You slowly sat up, putting your panties back on, feeling a little disappointed that you didn’t orgasm. Oh well, you can always try again next time.
The sound of someone clearing their throat made you jump and you cover yourself with your blanket.
“San?!”
San was inside your room, leaning against your open balcony door, staring at you with a smirk on his face. He was dressed in ripped jeans and a white t-shirt, and yet, he looked absolutely divine.
San has come into your room a bunch of times, but you certainly weren’t expecting him today. He always calls you before coming over, so you wondered why he didn’t do that this time.
“I’m sorry for interrupting your… session,” he said, although he didn’t seem sorry at all. “I would’ve stayed outside, but it’s really cold, and as you can see, I’m not wearing warm clothes.”
You didn’t really know what to say. “Uh, when did you get here?"
"A minute or two before you moaned my name,” he muttered with a smirk, making you pull the blanket up to cover your flushed face. So he saw pretty much everything?
San chuckled, moving to sit beside you on your bed. “Don’t feel shy or embarrassed, Y/N,” he pulled the blanket down to your neck to reveal your face. “I always think of you whenever I need to get off.” You involuntarily let out a small whimper, feeling your sensitive clit throb at his words.
You sat up straight, letting the blanket fall to your waist, revealing your bare upper body. You noticed San gulp while his eyes took in the sight of your breasts. You wrapped your arms around his neck while you leaned in, gently kissing his jawline. San smiled, his hands moving to your bare waist, making you gasp at the feeling of his cold hands on your heated body.
Unable to control yourself, you crashed your lips onto his, and he responded immediately. You had imagined how it would feel to kiss San several times before, but this was a whole lot better.
Without breaking the kiss, you pushed him onto his back, straddling his lap. San smirked at your actions and you leaned down, reconnecting your lips. You involuntarily grinded onto his growing bulge, causing him to groan in pleasure. You could feel your panties sticking to your wet folds while you moved on him. Without breaking the heated kiss, San sat up, pulling you along with him, so that his back was resting against the headboard of your bed and you were still straddling him. He broke the kiss to trail open mouth kisses along your neck, making you tilt your head to give him more access.
“Can I touch you?” he mumbled against your skin, giving it a little nibble.
“Yes, please…”
San’s hands moved up your body to your breasts. He gently massaged your breasts before taking one of your nipples in his mouth. He flicked it with his tongue, giving it a little swirl before repeating the same action for the other one.
“You don’t know how many times I’ve wanted to do this to you,” he said, lips meeting yours in a quick kiss before he changed positions, hovering above you. “Every time I came to your room, I had to control myself so much from wanting to kiss you… to touch you…” his hand moved down to your thighs, giving it a squeeze before he teased your inner thighs. He slowly moved his hand to cup your clothed heat, making you whimper.
“Fuck, please touch me,” you begged.
San slowly took your panties off, mouth watering at the sight of your glistening core. His fingers moved to your clit, gently stroking your sensitive nub. You grabbed his hand once your clit became too oversensitive again, stopping him from touching you.
“I… it’s very sensitive from what I was… doing before. It was my first time, so I don’t think I can handle more,” you mumbled, cheeks heating up. That’s when San noticed the tiny container of coconut oil on your bedside table.
“Oh, you masturbated for the first time today?” he asked. You nodded, a little embarrassed.
“And you were thinking of me while you did it? Fuck, that’s so hot,” he murmured, leaning down to kiss you. “Since you’re overstimulated, I won’t touch you there. But I can finger you, if and only if that’s okay with you.”
You nodded. “It won’t hurt, right?”
“From what I’ve heard, it most likely won’t. I’ll be as gentle as possible.”
“Okay… then finger me, please.”
San kissed your neck while his fingers explored the area around your entrance, avoiding your sensitive clit; he didn’t want to just shove his fingers up immediately. “Just relax, baby,” he murmured against your skin, and your tense body relaxed a bit. He ran his finger along your wet folds, collecting your juices. He took his time, teasing you around that area, trying to get you wetter.
When you felt wetter, he moved his body to rest in between your legs. He slowly slipped a finger into your hole. “Does it hurt?” he asked. You shook your head and he continued pushing his finger all the way in. You winced at the slight sting you felt when he pulled his finger back a little. “Are you okay? Does it hurt, baby?”
“It stings a little, but it’s tolerable,” you said, your hands moving to his messy black hair.
San slowly started pumping his finger in you, trying to be as gentle as possible; the stingy feeling was starting to fade away and you let him know that. He tapped around your walls, searching for your g-spot. You sucked in a breath when he found your spot, clutching a fistful of his hair. “Found it,” he smirked, continuing to finger you, making sure to hit that very spot.
“S-San…” you moaned, your walls clenching around his finger. He kissed and gently sucked on the skin of your inner thighs while he fingered you. You could feel something building up in your lower stomach, and you assumed you were close to orgasming. “San, I think I'm—”
“Let it go,” he pumped his fingers faster, making your back arch. “Cum for me, baby.” His words and a few more pumps was all it took for your orgasm to wash over you, making you loudly moan his name. He pulled his fingers out, sucking them clean, eyes closing at your taste. “So fucking sweet.”
You pulled San into a kiss, tasting yourself, feeling really happy and relaxed. You felt his hard-on press against your inner thigh, and you instantly pulled away. “Let me help you now.”
San pecked your lips. “It’s fine, Y/N. This is all new to you so I don’t want to make you uncomfortable or something.”
“I’ll be happy knowing that you’re satisfied too,” you said, running a hand through his hair. “But you’ll have to show me how cause I’ve never done this before.”
He chuckled cutely, kissing you softly before he sat against the headboard. “Grab the oil, baby. Pour some onto your palm,” he said, pulling his t-shirt over his head, revealing his toned abs. You did as he said while watching him unzip his jeans, taking it off along with his briefs, causing his hard cock to slap against his lower stomach, the tip leaking with precum. Your eyes roamed all over his naked body; you always thought San looked extremely handsome, but now he looked even better.
“Touch me, Y/N,” he said with a smile, grabbing your attention. “You just have to touch me like this,” he showed you how to do it and gave you a few tips.
“Okay…”
You gently wrapped your oily hand around his length, earning a slight hiss from him. You moved your hand up and down his length just like he showed you, lubricating it with the oil. You twisted your hand slightly, moving closer to his tip. “Fuck,” he muttered when you swiped your finger along his slit; you mentally noted that he liked it. Your hand moved back down and you added a little pressure, slowly jerking him off. “You’re doing so well, baby,” he moaned, staring at you with hooded eyes, lower lip caught in between his teeth. You increased the pace, making him buck his hips up. “Keep going, doll… I’m so close.” You moved your hands faster, earning a loud groan from San while he orgasmed, his cum shooting onto his stomach and some spilling onto your hand. You stroke him for a few more seconds before removing your hand.
San pulled you into a quick kiss. “That was amazing, Y/N. You did so well.”
“T-Thanks…” you blushed. “I’m glad you liked it.”
“I loved it,” he pecked your lips. “Let’s clean up, hmm?” You nodded, and the two of you made your way to your bathroom.
San told you about his day while you both washed up. After you both got dressed, you cuddled on your bed, resting your head on his chest.
“Oh, by the way… I actually came here to tell you something,” San said, intertwining your hand with his.
“Tell me what?” you questioned sleepily; you could hear his heartbeat speed up.
San took a deep breath, feeling quite nervous. “I… I like you, Y/N,” he confessed. “I’ve liked you ever since we worked on that assignment together. My feelings just keep getting stronger, so I just had to let you know today.”
You moved so that you could see his face that was filled with hope and anxiety because he wasn’t sure if you felt the same way even after what you both did minutes ago.
You reached up to cup his cheek, hand moving down to run along his sharp jawline. You brought his face closer to yours, capturing his lips in a soft, slow kiss, instantly making his tense body relax. You pulled away slightly to say, “I like you too, Sannie.”
San smiled wide, his dimples showing. He pulled you into a kiss even though he wasn’t able to stop smiling.
He pulled away to look at you, his hand gently running through your hair. “Would you do me the honor of going on a date with me tomorrow?”
You nodded with a smile, pecking his cheek. “Gladly.”
Series: ⇢ Pairing: San x fem!Reader ⇢ Genre: flirty af fluff, hints of angst, suggestive, kinda smutty, older reader (noona) ⇢ Synopsis: As your best friend’s maid of honor, you must endure the shameless best man’s flirting until after the wedding.
Part 6: One Less Thing - Moodboard ⇢ Genre: fluff, angst, suggestive, & slightly smutty ⇢ Warnings: language, wet daydreams, self-image issues, and self-hatred ⇢ Word Count: 8,226 i-
a/n: I feel like half of this isn’t as good as I was hoping
It is finally the day you’ve been dreading: bridesmaid dress shopping. Fortunately, the remaining two bridesmaids, Yoojung and Kyungmi, are able to fit shopping into their schedules this weekend. You were beginning to worry that Mina would have to pick without them trying on dresses, which would have stressed Mina out more than she already is.
Yoojung is a childhood friend who moved far away for college. You remember the two of them running around Mina’s house playing dolls. Yoojung always had her hair cut in a bob with straight across bangs. She looked so adorable with her chubby little cheeks that were constantly flushed from them playing so much. Seeing her today, you notice how much she has grown up, and it tugs at your heart a bit.
Kyungmi met Mina in a marketing class which had them glued to each other to survive with a passing grade. Mina had never seemed so stressed, and it hurt that there was nothing you could do to make the class better. You’re just glad she had someone going through the same thing with her. Kyungmi is quiet until she’s comfortable around you, which she then turns into the mood maker of the group. She knows how to make Mina relax and not excessively worry about things. Though she is a year younger than Mina, she holds Mina accountable for her responsibilities, which played a huge part in her passing that class.
Having Mina’s friends from different stages of her life come together to celebrate this huge milestone gets you kind of emotional. The mimosa you are currently sipping on in this hole-in-the-wall restaurant does not help these emotions either. Visiting this place brings back the memories of when Mina would come stay the weekend with you while you were in your first couple of years of college.
After hearing someone talk about how good the food was in one of your classes, you knew Mina would insist on trying it, and ever since then, this restaurant has held a special place in your heart. Every morning she was with you, the two of you would have brunch here. Each visit, Mina would try a different meal until she had ordered everything on the menu at least once, and sometimes when she didn’t like it, she would eat off your plate. You never minded because of how much you mother her. Now, the waffles and coffee taste like a simpler time when your biggest worries were an exam over a topic you didn’t really understand and how to deal with Mina’s high school struggles.
The conversations have been pleasant so far, topics mostly concerning the wedding, especially decorating. Mina has decided loosely on a boho chic meets the city theme, which combines the aesthetic of popular Pinterest weddings and Mina’s actual lifestyle. Her inability to commit to one option is slowly withering down your sanity. It’s difficult for her to distinguish what the internet wants and what she actually wants. Maybe once she starts buying more decorations she will stick to the theme.
As you eat, you listen to them talk, occasionally throwing in your opinion. After taking a large bite, you notice Kyungmi opening the camera app on her phone.
“Let’s take a picture for Instagram!” Kyungmi chirps, already holding out the device for a selfie.
You quickly swallow and swipe your tongue across your teeth for any stuck food before leaning in and smiling for the photo. Kyungmi spams the shutter button in case someone blinks and sifts through all the pictures for the best one.
“What’s your username on Instagram?” She asks you so that she can tag you, to which you answer.
The conversations resume as Kyungmi gets distracted with the social media app, but after tagging everyone, she turns to you again.
“Why don’t you ever post?” Apparently, she crept on your profile.
“I don’t really get on there anymore.”
“Why?”
The real reason is something you don’t want to admit right now, especially to someone much younger than you who won’t understand. You don’t want to see all the cool things people you grew up with are doing. You want to be happy for them, but you just can’t because a large part of you is jealous. You want to be doing the same things, like the adult you’re supposed to be. You only ever get on when Mina asks you to go like whatever she just posted.
“I don’t do anything fun to post about, so I just don’t get on,” you keep it simple.
“You can just post selfies and stuff. You don’t have to post only amazing adventure-like things.”
But you don’t want others to see that you’re not doing anything with your life. The people following you are those you know from high school and college. There were such high expectations for you that you have yet to reach. You don’t want them to think you’re a lonely, sad adult who still works in retail. With the stigma around that career, being single, and your age, it’s frankly embarrassing.
“Or post pet pictures and videos. Those are always so cute,” Kyungmi adds with a chipper smile.
“Oh, I don’t have a pet.” You can barely take care of yourself, let alone an entire other being. Maybe taking on that responsibility would help you feel more independent and teach you how to take better care of yourself. It would be like a precursor to having a child… right?
On Kyungmi’s profile, you courtesy follow her back, but your attention diverts to how organized her photos are with a specific aesthetic. Her first few rows of posts make your entire account look pathetic. Not only does she have an aesthetically pleasing curation of pictures but also a large following with high engagement. Scrolling through her posts, you kind of wish to be admired as much as her.
“Why do people keep commenting ‘Heather?’ Who’s Heather?” You question looking through comments of one of her posts.
“It means the person they’re calling Heather is beautiful and, like, they wish they were that person. It has to do with a song,” she answers like you won’t understand it if she explains the whole thing, leaning into the stereotypical belief of older generations not understanding social media. That peeves you because the people in your age group are the pioneers of social media.
“Oh, I thought it had to do with the movie Heathers.”
The younger girls start laughing at you, making comments about you being old and out of touch. You didn’t need confirmation of that when you already give yourself a hard time for it. It feels a bit alienating.
“I did too,” Sejeong quietly says to you.
Although they move on, you are stuck on how unaware you are of newer societal norms. Growing up, you always swore that you would never not know what is going on on the internet to avoid becoming “old.” Yet here you are being confused over slang. You’re not that old… right?
In the midst of your existential crisis, you feel your phone go off in your pocket, surprised upon seeing who has texted you.
From: Mark hey 10:42 AM
You sit for a moment in silence as everyone else chatters away happily. You really shouldn’t respond, but god, do you crave intimacy. Giving in to Mark always leaves you wanting emotional attachment. Maybe this time you can keep your feelings out of it because you know what will happen. All of this wedding stuff just reminds you of how alone you are.
From: You Hey 10:44 AM
-
From: Mark wyd 10:45 AM
-
From: You Having brunch with some friends. You? 10:45 AM
-
From: Mark nothing 10:46 AM
-
From: Mark you want to go out tonight? 10:46 AM
As much as you want to convince yourself that you’re strong enough to hold back this time, you have to acknowledge all the instances he has done this before. You knew what he was going to do those times and still couldn’t manage your feelings. Fulfilling a momentary need doesn’t justify hurting yourself in the long run.
From: You I can’t. I have to be up early tomorrow. 10:47 AM
When you leave the restaurant, you decide to ride with Sejeong while the younger ones ride together to the specialty dress store. Although you have taken on a motherly role among the bridal party, you don’t feel like subjecting yourself to being heckled for being out of the loop. The drive is fairly quiet until your phone buzzes again. You expect it to be Mark trying to guilt you into seeing him, but you are met with San’s name on your lock screen.
From: San Would Mina be mad if we got bolo ties? 11:31 AM
-
From: You Um yes 11:31 AM
“San just asked if they could get bolo ties for the wedding,” you break the silence with a sigh. Sejeong furrows her brows at the road.
“What the hell are bolo ties?”
“They’re those leather cord ties with slider clasps.”
“Aren’t those, like, a cowboy thing?”
“Yeah,” you sigh again.
“Why are the guys so dumb? Every time we do something, they ask something stupid.”
“Right?” You laugh and then feel your phone vibrate again.
From: San What about ascots? 11:34 AM
“Now, he’s asking about ascots.”
“What the fuck? Why isn’t he sending those to the group chat? I want to clap back,” she complains lightly smacking the steering wheel for emphasis.
“He only wants to annoy me, but I feel like San and Yunho would actually buy those just to piss Mina off.”
From: You Wtf?? Just get normal ties. 11:36 AM
-
From: San For our wedding, I’m wearing a fun tie 11:36 AM
-
From: You We will never get married. 11:37 AM
-
From: San Why not? 11:37 AM
-
From: You Do you really think we would ever be together? 11:38 AM
-
From: San Idk. I might just make you mine. 11:38 AM
-
From: You Good luck with that. 11:39 AM
-
From: San I don’t need luck. 11:39 AM
“I think he’s just trying to find an excuse to text you,” Sejeong says belatedly.
You can’t help but guffaw, “What? No! He has always been like this. He knows I can’t stand him.”
From: You You know, you’re kinda romantically impulsive. 11:41 AM
-
From: San You think I’m romantic? 11:41 AM
-
From: You That’s not what that means. 11:42 AM
His replies seem to end as you pull into a parking spot. The specialty store you walk into looks sort of like a warehouse; it contains a wide range of styles and colors. It is somewhat overwhelming with the amount of options. Since Mina has not decided on some vague idea of dresses for you, you dread how long this trip might take.
“What colors are you thinking?” Kyungmi asks, eyes scanning the different sections of styles.
“A dark beige, coral, or maroon. Maybe navy. I don’t know yet,” Mina says giddily.
“Oh, my god, Mina! You need to decide. You don’t have a lot of time,” Kyungmi chides, gawking at her with wide, concerned eyes.
“I know!” Mina whines cutely, “I don’t know what would look good for that time of year.”
“That doesn’t matter! What do youwant?”
“It’s not that simple!”
“Mina, do not start quoting The Notebook to me,” Kyungmi groans and grabs her wrist to tug her to the color swatch samples, “It’s not rocket science. Pick one.”
Mina grumbles unintelligibly to herself as she sifts through the selections. Warm-toned swatches collect in her hand, and you’re relieved she’s not leaning towards cool tones because you know those will make everyone look washed out in the photos. Now, you can only hope she picks a simple dress made of breathable materials.
Sejeong sticks to your side as you browse through the rows of dresses. You have no idea what would fit Mina’s theme or what she wants. The only thing you have to go off of is her personal style, which is heavily based on whatever is trending.
“This makes me want to get married. I’m getting old. Why am I not married yet?” Yoojung whines, combing through a nearby rack of silk dresses.
You and Sejeong glance at each other.
“What does that make us?” Sejeong asks, feigning anger.
One of Yoojung’s hands flies over her own mouth as she realizes what she said in front of the two eldest members of the entire wedding party, who also happen to be not married.
“You’re 22. You have plenty of time,” Sejeong assures.
“At least you have a boyfriend,” you mutter quietly to Sejeong.
“Yeah, of four years. Where is my ring?!”
“Get away from those dresses. They’re too expensive,” Mina calls from a few isles away.
Not even concerned about the price beforehand, you check a tag of one. $2,000.
“I wouldn’t even spend that much on my wedding dress,” Sejeong scoffs, walking away.
“Aren’t you dating a CEO?”
“Yeah, but I don’t think a dress is that important. I’ll only wear it once.”
She has a point, but the one occasion you wear it is supposed to be important. Every detail of that day is supposed to be important… or is that just what you have been conditioned to believe? Raised in a society where expensive means better, you just assume you will have a large, extravagant wedding. But is that really what you want?
Additionally, a budget for your own wedding has never really crossed your mind since marriage is so far off in your future. You’re not drowning in money, but you make enough to get by. You can’t afford a house or a new car manufactured within the last few years, things most people your age have. Some of them even have kids; you don’t know if you can afford to have one any time soon… not that that is an option. Maybe you can go to a sperm bank when you’re 30 or something. Hopefully, it won’t come to that.
Your phone vibrates the text notification pattern in your jeans, and you instinctively pull up the message, following Sejeong and Yoojung to where the others are. The sender’s name makes you roll your eyes before reluctantly reading what he sent.
From: San Babygirl 12:27 PM
-
From: You Don’t ever call me that again. 12:27 PM
-
From: San lol what colors did Mina say they wanted for the wedding? 12:28 PM
“They wanted” is more like “Mina wanted.” Mingi doesn’t really care for the theatrics of a wedding, giving her free rein to plan it; he just wants to marry her. A simple man is he.
From: You She still doesn’t know. 12:28 PM
-
From: San Then how are we supposed to order our suits? 12:29 PM
-
From: You Just let the tailor get your measurements and you can order them later. 12:30 PM
-
From: San 7 inches pushing 8 12:30 PM
He is insufferable. Based on that picture he sent a while back, you know he is joking.
From: You I think you might be holding the ruler the wrong way. 12:31 PM
-
From: San You want a pic for proof? 12:31 PM
-
From: You Absolutely not. 12:32 PM
-
From: San All I saw was absolutely 12:32 PM
-
From: You If you send me a dick pic, your life ends tonight. 12:33 PM
-
From: San Sounds kinky 12:33 PM
-
From: San You can double check it then 12:33 PM
With a scoff, you shove your phone back into your pocket. When you look up, Mina gives you a weird look with two dresses in her hand.
“You don’t like them?” She asks.
“What? No, San just texted me asking about colors,” you answer, but now that you are studying the dresses, neither of them are actually pretty.
“Oh… Well, I can’t find anything. I want you to have, like, fashionable dresses, but none of them catch my eye.”
“We can go to a different store,” Kyungmi reminds her.
“Yeah, but that would have to be another day, and I don’t know if I can get all of you together again.”
“Are the colors throwing you off?” You question, noticing the dresses in hand are all similar colors.
“Maybe. I have so many colors I like, but I’ve been avoiding the ones I don’t.”
“Then, start looking at those. This store doesn’t have every style in every color in stock.”
“Okay,” Mina pouts, “If any of you find a dress you like, grab it. Maybe one of us can find a good one.”
You abandon the criterion of the theme and solely search for a dress that is pretty, seemingly comfortable, affordable, and not too fitted. A pale blue chiffon dress sticks out among the purple shades on a rack. You lift the hanger off the metal rail and hold it out in front of you. It has an A-line silhouette with a deep v-neckline and pleated skirt. The sleeves are long and have slits to the shoulders. It looks elegant compared to what Mina currently has on hold in the dressing room, but you have a feeling she will think the style is for “old people.” Conservative styles are considered ugly for some reason. God forbid you wear something to feel comfortable. If it has a lot of coverage or is not form-fitting, it’s out of style, or at least in Mina’s opinion. Nonetheless, you carry the dress with you.
After scanning a few more racks, Mina announces across the store, inconsiderate of the other customers, that she’s ready for all of you to try on the several dresses picked out. Unfortunately, you only found one dress, but hopefully, there is a suitable dress among the selected. As you approach the dressing rooms, Mina is checking Sejeong’s and Yoojung’s dresses.
“What dress do you have?” She questions when you stop next to Sejeong.
You hold up the blue dress and study their reactions, which don’t give you much hope. Mina’s face becomes unreadable.
“Is that a mother-of-the-bride dress?” Yujin laughs, and the other younger girls agree with grins.
The attention shifts to Kyungmi, leaving you feeling defeated. You see Sejeong move closer out of the corner of your eye before she whispers in your ear.
“Every time Yujin opens her mouth, the more unlikeable she becomes. I’m trying to be neutral and nice but fuck.”
You nod with wide eyes to emphasize your agreement. Yujin’s attitude toward you has started to sour ever since that day you visited that wedding venue. Any chance she can bring you down she takes. If it’s just jealousy over your interactions with San, you will graciously hand him over to her. Due to circumstances with Mina, you cannot do that, and an obscene part of you does not want him to flirt with her. Also, it is not even your fault; he is the one coming to you. In some weird way, you like his attention although it won’t— can’t go anywhere. It’s better that he hits on you who will not give in.
With everyone holding out their picks, Mina chooses which ones she likes for you to try on. It doesn’t come as a surprise when she tells you that she doesn’t like yours. She also doesn’t like Yujin’s extremely short and fitted dress, stating that she likes it but it’s too sexy for a wedding. An assistant ushers you into separate rooms and heads to grab the dresses in your sizes. The first few dresses are ready inside your dressing rooms, which Mina eagerly encourages all of you to hurry to try them on.
You notice something about the dresses Mina has pulled. They all have a bold and kind of distracting feature, such as ruffles, uncommon fabrics, or shiny sequins. Simple and plain would allow her to shine in her wedding dress. After all, it is hers and Mingi’s day, not anyone else’s.
The lilac dress is… something. It isn’t what you would have guessed her to pick. This is an ugly start to finding bridesmaid dresses. There is no way Mina will like this one actually on all of you. In the mirror of your stall, you smooth your hands over the large ruffles on the bodice, hoping to flatten it a bit, but it doesn’t work. You can see this one maybe on a runway but not for a wedding, specifically Mina’s wedding.
Stepping out of the dressing room, you compare yourself to the others to your right. The dress looks a lot better on Sejeong, Yujin, and Yoojung. Gaze shifting to Kyungmi on your left, you notice she looks just as uncomfortable as you feel. The two of you don’t look like the rest of the girls; they can pull off the tight-fitted dresses. Sejeong has an athletic build, Yujin is blessed with an S-line body shape, and despite her chubby cheeks, Yoojung can’t gain weight easily.
Unfortunately, Mina isn’t picking up on you and Kyungmi radiating distress as she makes heart eyes at the dresses on the other three.
“They look so pretty!” She beams while Sejeong shows her the backside.
You awkwardly adjust the large ruffles and stare at your reflection in the mirror on the wall across from your dressing room.
“These are hideous,” Kyungmi whispers to you, making eye contact with you in the mirror.
Nodding, you peer over at Mina who is now walking over to you with a wide smile.
“You guys look so beautiful!”
A part of you wants to ask her if she’s blind because this dress is in no way flattering. Even with alterations, there is no saving this dress. You’re about to put Mina under citizen’s arrest on behalf of the fashion police for this crime against humanity.
“Get together for a picture!” She waves her hands excitedly as she steps back enough to get all of you in the frame.
The satin fabric feels like it’ll rip easily if you don’t move carefully, which isn’t something you can be mindful of on the wedding day. With the lowest price of all the dresses, it isn’t surprising that the material isn’t sturdy.
Sejeong happens to make eye contact with you when all of you disperse to your rooms and detects your ignored exasperation.
“I don’t think this dress is the right one. It’s flashy and shouldn’t stand out more than your dress,” she tries to reason with Mina, who doesn’t look fully convinced.
After trying on two other dresses Mina found, one made with unbreathable velvet fabric and one sequined dress with a skirt slit that goes up a little too high, you squeeze into the short fit and flare satin dress Yoojung picked out. Just as you finally get the zipper up, Yoojung steps out to show Mina the dress.
“Oh, that doesn’t look good at all,” Mina says and then yells to the rest of you, “Never mind, don’t bother with Yoojung’s dress!”
This irks you. How is it that when a dress does not look good on the more fit bridesmaids, it is no longer an option, but when that happens to you and Kyungmi, it is still considered? With a clenched jaw, you begrudgingly try on the dresses Kyungmi and Sejeong picked. Kyungmi’s is turned down for the busy floral pattern, but Sejeong’s square neck chiffon dress with pockets is a maybe. The pockets are the only reason you like that one.
The last dress is a coral empire dress with off-the-shoulder sleeves. The floor-length chiffon skirt looks prettier when on a person rather than the hanger. You dawdle out of your stall and check out the other bridesmaids.
Out of all the dresses you have tried on, this one looks fairly good on all of you. Obviously, the same style isn’t going to be the best on every body shape in the bridal party, but this might be the best you can find. It’s a pretty color and looks pretty good on you and Kyungmi. At this point, you don’t really care how it looks on the other three.
Yet Mina isn’t so sure about it, saying that it looks like it’s missing something. Before you commit murder, you shuffle back in the dressing room. While changing back into your clothes, you notice you have a text message from San. Mina is rushing all of you up on the other side of the curtain, thus you save it for the ride back to Mina’s apartment to get your car. The other bridesmaids in the same boat chat about the dresses as you discretely open the image he has sent for a better look.
From: San
IMG_8462.jpg 1:52 PM
Just as you expected, he is, in fact, hot in a suit. You’re going to have to walk down the aisle with a man who should be put in the Met because he is an actual work of art. None of these dresses will help you look even remotely decent next to him. Your mood plummets once again.
From: You Stop texting me. I’m not in the mood to deal with you. 2:04 PM
-
From: San What’s wrong? 2:06 PM
-
From: You All the dresses Mina has us try on don’t look good on me. 2:06 PM
-
From: San You don’t need one of those dresses to look good 2:07 PM
-
From: San Or any dress for that matter 2:07 PM
-
From: You How would you even know… 2:07 PM
-
From: San I’ve told you I have a good imagination. 2:08 PM
-
From: You Keep dreaming. 2:08 PM
-
From: San Dreams can come true, right? 2:09 PM
Your cheeks burn, and you shove your phone back into your jeans. Although you don’t show it, his stupid teasing has made you feel a little better. The compliments tend to your need to be wanted, even if they are lies. You wonder if he does this shit on purpose because he knows what he’s doing, like he has some sixth sense that allows him to see inside your mind. Could he be that emotionally in tune?
You don’t understand how your friends haven’t picked up on your disconnection from the present. It feels like you are drowning but no one sees or hears the splashing. When the time comes to go your separate ways, your negative thoughts don’t leave. If anything, the loneliness makes them worse. They waste your energy, and by the time you decide to start getting ready for bed, you realize how long you have dwelled on them.
As you strip down for a shower, you avoid looking in the mirror. To quell the negativity in your mind, you turn on your favorite playlist. But your attempts to escape your self-hate do not work for long. Maybe you should have hung out with Mark. It would feel better to be temporarily wanted than this soul-sucking feeling of being alone and no one caring. And maybe that is why you always run back to him, knowing he’ll never be yours, and you’ll never be his. No matter how hot the water is, your thoughts of him can’t be burned from your mind; no matter how long you let the spray pelt down on you, they can’t be weathered away.
Scrubbing down your body, you can’t help but wish you looked different. It would be so much easier to find a dress for the wedding… or a dress in general. There are so many things you would love to wear but can’t because you don’t feel confident in them. You have too many worries about how others will see and think of you. It shouldn’t matter what they think, and you know this. But that’s easier said than done. How does anyone not care about other people’s opinions?
The suds rinse off of you and wash away down the drain along with your self-esteem. Insecurities always get the best of you, and you have no one to confide in because no one understands. They only slap a bandaid of vague compliments on your self-inflicted wounds caused by your flaws and unconsciously-created comparisons to other girls.
You stand under the water a little longer trying to push away the negative thoughts, but they only find another thing to fret about. Your mind focuses on Mina’s relationship with Mingi, who completely adores her no matter how she looks. You want that; someone to fawn over you at your best and worst; someone attracted to you always, even when you just wake up with your hair messy and drool on your face; someone to love you unconditionally. But those are just unrealistic expectations, especially for someone your age. Everyone who would do all of that is already taken, and what’s left are those who will never learn to do those things. You should have found someone by now. Who could love you now? You’re going to die alone and-
A loud vibration of your phone on the sink counter rips you out of your self-hate fest, and you scramble to wrap up your shower. Once dried off, you tug on a shirt and pair of panties before returning to your living room. Your mind is momentarily brought back to the present to get you in bed, where you will inevitably be kept up by intrusive thoughts.
As you blow out the candle on your coffee table, there’s a knock at your door. Being a single woman living alone not expecting a visitor, every fear plays through your mind while you tiptoe to the door. You see an irritatingly familiar face through the peephole and reluctantly open the door to find San already smirking.
“What are you doing here?” You sigh tiredly.
“You seemed sad earlier. I texted you that I was on my way over,” he replies, gently pushing the door further open. Ah, so he’s the reason your phone went off while you were showering.
You don’t stop him from coming inside as you notice the items in his hands.
“You brought flowers?”
“And ice cream.” He chirps, walking backwards to your kitchen with a bouquet and a plastic sack from a convenience store.
“That’s not going to help me look good in any of those dresses.”
“It’s one of those dairy-free, vegan, low-calorie brands.”
Those brands are expensive and hard to find in nearby stores. He really put thought and effort into this. There is no way in hell you’re going to let him see you swoon; he wants you to be putty in his hands. As you follow behind to find a vase for the flowers, you suddenly remember your state of dress and tug at the hem of your long, baggy t-shirt.
“I’m literally not wearing pants. I’ll be right back,” you say, hurrying to your bedroom.
“So?” He responds indifferently, and you’re surprised he doesn’t make a bigger deal out of it. “One less thing I have to take off.”
Never mind, there it is. You rush to pull on a pair of pajama shorts from your dresser and stumble back out into your living room to find him wandering around your apartment with his nose in the air.
“What are you doing?” You ask, bemused by his behavior.
“It smells like coconuts in here?” He sniffs in different directions.
You chuckle watching him search around your kitchen with his nose. “It’s a wall plugin and some candles”
“Coconut is your favorite scent?”
“One of them, yeah.”
He hums in response as his gaze drifts down your body, “Are you wearing a pair of someone’s boxers?”
Looking at the article you threw on in haste, you notice which shorts you chose.
“Uh, no, they’re those pajama shorts that are meant to look like ‘your boyfriend’s’ boxers.”
This seems to brighten the light inside his eyes, and a small grin spreads across his face. “You could just borrow mine.”
His words are loaded, which you try to unpack without giving away just how flustered you have become. Is he just being flirty? Does he just want to make your heart jump at the idea of wearing his clothes after you two have fucked? Or the most ridiculous option: does he want you to wear his clothes as a sign of exclusivity? Your overthinking is meaningless because you are not going to let any of them happen, and he has clearly moved on from the conversation.
As you find a vase, you instruct him to the bowls in your cabinets. With the bowls on the counter and the sink faucet filling up the vase, San reads the instructions on the flower food packet that comes with the bouquet. On the opposite side of the kitchen, you dig around for a large spoon. Once the flowers are placed in the water, he returns his attention to you, who is trying to scoop out the ice cream with all your strength.
Having had enough of watching you struggle, he interrupts, “Let me do it.”
You slide the carton to him with a pout and focus on his hands scooping out the ice cream. The movement of the muscles and veins in his hands is mesmerizing. You wonder what it would be like to have his fingertips running down your body. His biceps also capture your gaze, them flexing with each scoop.
He’s able to serve the treat with ease, and it annoys you that you needed his help. You hate the feeling of depending on someone else; you don’t want to be a burden.
When he finishes, you put the lid back on the container and take it to your refrigerator, mentioning, “I’m putting the tub in the freezer, so don’t forget it when you leave.”
“Keep it. I got it for you,” he shrugs it off.
Your heart does a small flip at his kindness. He has never been one to do this, at least not for you. But you start to realize how little you actually know about him. Aside from the obvious surface level observations, you know nothing about his personal life with exceptions of the random TMI tidbits of his sexual endeavors.
Leading him over to your couch, you bashfully say, “You didn’t have to do all this.”
“I wanted to make sure you were okay.” His voice is sweet and sincere. He shoots you a smile before digging into his bowl.
“I would have cleaned up if I had known you were coming over,” you say with a mouthful of ice cream, a hand gesturing vaguely to your apartment.
“You’ve seen mine and Mingi’s apartment. This is nothing.”
A silence falls over you for a few moments before he speaks again, this time softer and concerned.
“I’m not intruding on your night, right?”
“No, I literally just got out of the shower and was going to lounge around anyway.”
“Damn, I just missed that?”
You scoff with warm cheeks when he peers up at you with a playful grin. From where you’re sitting, you have a perfect view of his dimple. Despite making a sexually charged joke, he is simply adorable, charming in a different way from his usual flirtatious self.
“Your words sometimes just don’t match how you look.”
He hums inquisitively, having just scooped a spoonful into his mouth.
“You say a lot of bold things while looking pure and innocent.”
“So it’s working,” he nods to himself with a sly little smirk.
“Huh?”
He doesn’t respond and just gazes into your eyes.
“What?” You ask, suddenly self-conscious with a hand coming up to feel for ice cream on your chin.
“Nothing, just getting lost in your eyes.”
Your face scrunches up as you cringe and return your focus to your bowl of ice cream as he laughs.
“You know, my great grandmother used to say that you can tell how someone is in bed by how they eat ice cream.”
You peek up at him in surprise. “What? Your great grandmother said that?”
“Apparently, Nana was wild back in the day. It makes sense though. If they bite it, they’re wild in the sheets. If they eat it quickly, they don’t last very long.”
You glance down at your almost empty bowl, and San’s eyes follow yours.
With a chuckle, he teases, “That’s disappointing, but we can work on that.”
His words lead you down a naughty path of self-indulgence. Your mind begins to fantasize about him crashing his lips into yours and kissing you hungrily while his hands tug at your clothes. You imagine him hoisting you up on a kitchen counter, standing between your legs, and dipping a hand into your shorts. You can almost hear him saying against your lips, “You’re not allowed to come until I say. You need to practice.”
“Have you ever even had a one-night stand?” His question comes out of nowhere, effectively pulling you out of your daydream.
“No, that’s one less problem I’m bringing home,” you answer honestly.
“What do you mean?”
“I getattached,” you reply with an unwavering stare.
A glimmer of guilt comes and goes inside his eyes. He clears his throat and changes the path of the conversation, “Weren’t you seeing someone?”
“Mark? Yeah,” you answer, avoiding his eyes, “But it didn’t really turn into anything. I wanted a relationship, and he didn’t which he didn’t make clear from the beginning. He just wanted a fuck buddy.”
San hums understandingly.
“He asked me earlier if I wanted to go out tonight. I told him I have work early in the morning.”
“Do you?” San asks, worried he’s keeping you up.
“No.”
“Why didn’t you just tell him you don’t want to?”
“He knows how to get me to say yes… It feels like I wasted those two months and every other chance I gave him after.”
“Did you have fun though?” That question could be taken as him prying into your sex life, but the innocent way he asks sounds like he isn’t referring to that at all.
“I guess, but it wasn’t what I wanted. It’s hard to be lonely sometimes, you know?”
“Yeah, but that’s what friends are for.”
“Friends can’t help with everything. I’m not going to call up Mina for sex.”
“You have my number,” he quips with a smirk.
“As if you actually would,” you mutter as you place your bowl on the coffee table.
“There’s only one way to find out,” he says challengingly and laughs when you smack his arm.
After a moment, he adds quietly and innocently, “But if you are lonely, you can always call me.”
An awkwardness creeps up your spine; you’re not quite used to San reaching out his hand to pull you out of your loneliness. He seems genuine, but what if he isn’t serious and just saying it to be nice? You don’t allow yourself to follow that stream of questions.
“So, you didn’t get those dumb ties, did you?” You bring up his earlier shopping excursion, watching him finish his ice cream.
“Yeah, we all got matching bolo ties for the bachelor party.”
“Why are you guys like this?”
“I’m just kidding,” he laughs, his smile reaching his eyes, while stretching over to set his bowl next to yours, “Where’s your bathroom?”
You point to the door to which he enters. In his absence, you rinse the bowls out in the kitchen. Recently, he has been really nice to you, almost too nice. You’re still on the fence about his intentions. Is he doing this to trick you into a false security? Is he doing this because he actually cares about you and your happiness? You really hope it’s the latter.
When the bathroom door opens, he nonchalantly informs you, “You left a toy out in your bathroom.”
Your eyes shoot wide open, and you rush to hide it. Before you reach the threshold of the other room, San adds, “I was just kidding, but nice to know you do have one.”
“You are so annoying.”
“My offer still stands. You have my number,” he says, stepping closer to you. Before you can oppose, his index finger presses against your lips.
“It’s okay; you don’t have to say anything. I know your answer.”
As you swat his hand away, you grumble, “What are you talking about?”
“The eyes say what the mouth won’t.”
“What exactly are my eyes saying?” You humor him for a moment with your arms crossing over your chest.
“You’d prefer me over whatever little toy you have.”
“You haven’t seen it. Who said it’s little?” You raise your brows challengingly. His jaw hangs ajar as his brain tries to process your words.
“You’re right. The eyes do say what the mouth won’t,” you mock and plop back down on your couch.
He sighs, accepting his defeat before changing the subject, “What do the dresses look like that Mina wants?”
“Hang on,” you say grabbing your phone and pulling up the pictures, “This is the one she liked the most.”
It’s a pretty lilac, but it has too many large ruffles to be flattering. While the size was right, the fit was too tight. Not all body types look good in it.
“I can’t see when you’re that far away,” he hints that you should move closer from the other side of the couch.
Reluctantly, you scoot across the cushions and hold your phone right in his face sarcastically. Throwing you a glare, he takes it to get a better look.
“I looked like a busted can of biscuits,” you sigh.
“Stop. No, you don’t.”
You repeat his words in a mocking tone as you pluck your phone from his hand. The next dress you find is the sequin dress; it’s pretty, but not for a wedding. Handing your phone over again, you catch San preoccupied with applying strawberry lip balm. You can faintly smell the fruity scent from being so close.
“Gotta keep them kissable.” He winks, and you roll your eyes.
After putting away the balm, he takes your phone to inspect. As he looks, you note his hair isn’t styled like usual. It looks soft and fluffy tossed across his forehead. He actually looks really cute… and you kind of want to feel how soft his hair really is.
“What’s wrong with this one?” His question pulls you out of your daze.
“The skirt slit goes up too high, and I don’t like the spaghetti straps.”
“It’s sexy,” he says, handing back the phone, “You should send that picture to me.”
“I will not be making a donation to your spank bank.”
He chuckles while you swipe to another dress. A photo of the floral dress you didn’t really like catches your attention.
“Oh, my god. I look old,” you say, zooming in on your face. San enters your personal space to see.
“No, you don’t.”
“I look like someone’s grandmother.”
“There’s nothing wrong with aging. We all do it.” He shrugs, and you lean away to make direct eye contact.
“Says the man who has looked the same for the last four years.”
“Are you calling me ‘baby?’”
“Yeah,” you sarcastically respond.
“I like that pet name,” he grins so closely to your face it’s almost infuriating.
“That’s not-” You stop yourself and sigh because it’s not worth giving him the satisfaction of flustering you when he is already so smug.
“Anyway,” You swipe to the coral dress, “I think this style is the only one that looked okay on all of us, so this is my pick.”
“Why do you keep saying none of the dresses look nice on you? That one is really pretty on you,” he playfully scolds you.
“You’re just saying that because it’s the only one I’ll consider wearing.”
“No, I mean it.”
Before you argue further, something catches your eye on the floor. A fairly big black dot creeps across the rug underneath your coffee table. Out of fear, you squeal throwing your legs onto San’s lap, hands clinging to his arm.
“Whoa, if you wanted to cuddle, you could have just said so,” he chuckles and maneuvers you off of him to get up, “It’s just a spider.”
“I could have died if it bit me,” you yell after him as he grabs a cup from your kitchen.
“It’s not even a venomous kind.”
You stare at the eight-legged creature making sure it doesn’t get away, and San shoos it into the cup to release it outside.
When he comes back in, you chide him, “Why didn’t you kill it? What if it gets back in here?”
“The worst thing it’ll do is eat bugs.”
You don’t know why it’s so surprising that he doesn’t kill spiders, but it’s kind of cute that he’s too soft to do it.
“Anyways, since you’re going to have a different color dress from the other bridesmaids, you should ask Mina if you can have a different style that suits you,” he continues the previous conversation as he settles back into the cushions next to you.
“I guess I could. There was a dress I liked that I didn’t get to try on because she didn’t like it on the hanger,” you rant, pulling up your text conversation with Mina on your phone to ask, “There was also one that was similar to that last one, but the sleeves had a bit of extra fabric that made it look kind of like a cape. I knew Mina wouldn’t like it, but I thought it was really cute.”
“Are you trying to be a superhero?”
“Maybe…” you shrug, “Or a villain.”
“Sounds accurate.”
“Hey!” You whine and playfully smack his arm.
“My point exactly.”
“Whatever. You’re mean,” you pout and change the subject, “What are you planning for the bachelor party?”
“I don’t know yet. Yunho had some ideas, but we haven’t really talked about it. Do you already have a plan?”
“Yeah, I think we’re going to a vineyard for a wine tasting and then going back to Mina’s for pizza and movies.”
“That’s so boring.”
“Well, Mina isn’t a huge partier, so…”
As your words trail off, your phone vibrates with a text from the aforementioned bride.
“She said she might let us pick our own styles in whatever colors she decides on.”
“See? I told you.”
“Thank god. I could literally kiss you right now.” The words effortlessly come out of your mouth, and a huge smirk spreads across his face.
“Nothing’s stopping you,” he comments, tilting his head to the side and raising that one eyebrow.
“Uh, my sanity.”
“It’s okay to be a little crazy.”
You hate the arrogant way he’s looking at you right now, but you’re also a bit entranced by it. How can he switch from adorable to sexy with a simple tilt of his head? It’s no wonder that he can catch eyes, steal sighs, and cause highs. He knows what he’s doing. He has mastered his angles and uses them to affect your little weak heart. You just want to grab him by his shirt and kiss him.
He has made you feel an array of positive emotions to the point you have almost forgotten about your despairing mood, and you’re extremely grateful for that. In this moment, you realize you haven’t given him the same in return, retaining any positive thought about him to yourself. You know that if you do, he will hold onto every word of it. He’s worried about your happiness while you’ve pretty much neglected his. Swallowing your pride, you decide to give in.
“I didn’t say anything earlier, but… you looked handsome in that tux.”
His hand flings up, and the backside rests against your forehead. “Are you feeling okay? You just gave me a compliment.”
Laughing, you push his hand away. “I can be nice.”
He gazes at you for a moment with a small smile before seemingly snapping out of it and checking his phone.
“I should probably go. It’s getting late.”
“Oh,” you say, watching him stand from the couch, “Well, thank you for…” Your words trail off as you don’t know what to call his sweet gesture.
“Of course,” he beams, and you swear his eyes twinkle as his smile reaches them. It almost makes you forget to breathe.
Begrudgingly, you follow him to your door to see him out.
“Goodnight,” you say and open the door for him.
“It was,” he grins cheekily while exiting your apartment.
Rolling your eyes, you continue, “Be safe.”
“Nah,” he responds, walking away.
“San!”
His cute laugh echoes down the hall, and your heart swells. Why does he have to be so fucking charming? He haunts your thoughts as you lay in bed waiting to fall asleep. You can’t get his stupid, handsome face out of your head.
After tonight, you know he’s capable of being sweet and, dare you say it, potentially a good boyfriend. You don’t understand what has made him avoid committing to someone because he would be such a caring partner. If he was like this all the time, you would fall so hard for him. A part of you really wants him to surprise you like that again. You want to be the center of his affection. He would never do that for very long though.
Word count: 4.2k (i may’ve gotten a bit carried away)
Summary: You are used to see this cute guy on your to work and back home, but after a migraine makes you miss train on friday and not saw him its almost as if the universe jinxed you, for him.
Warning: migrains, headaches, san like appears but not?, fluff, clumsiness as it best, Reader has a job and is this close to gradutaing?, overall bad day.
Request by anon: choi san; H & 8.
H. Don’t cry, you know I’ll cry if you cry.
8. Falling for a stranger who’s common in your life.
A/N: I tried my best to do it without making it exxageradetly long and failed. I’m really sorry. And I didn’t knew if you liked it like GN or Fem but I realized about that at the end and doen¿t know id¿f I have to change but if anything, please contact me to either make another request or if you want me to change it to GN!Reader.
The way his skin glowed when the afternoon sun rays shone against it was actually mesmerizing, giving him an aura of perfection. The kind and warm type of perfection that you found in his eyes, in his defined jaw, in his kind little smile and the way a rebellious strand that didn’t hold along with the rest of his styled hair rested against his forehead. And you, you were used to all the perfection he had, his radiant presence part of your routine ever since he appeared randomly in your daily life.
You still recalled the first time you saw him, a year and a month back when you had to change your whole schedule to do your internship in the company that contacted you, managing to balance your new work with your college lessons, waking up a bit earlier to catch the 7:35 train to your work and then the 5:45 one back home.
That first day you were late, you ignored the alarm and those 10 minutes you overslept made you hurry a lot that morning, giving you firsthand adrenaline to start your new job all in. Rushing up the stairs of the station with a bag of crackers on one hand, your lunch bag on the other while slumping your bag upper in your arm without dropping the folder that held your final essay pressed under your armpit, all while trying not to collide against anyone in your way.
You had arrived along with the train; just as your foot stepped on the platform the train came in, door opening immediately and letting you in, taking the spot you used to take for when going to college. You managed to finally get your folder in your bag, slide the strip over your shoulder and finish the cracker in your mouth, swallowing it dry; and there, right there was when you saw him, sitting two seats away from you on the opposite row, his backpack resting his lap as he sipped from the cup of coffee on his hand, black hair styled neatly back, not a single strand poking out.
You remember the way his lips frowned when he burned his tongue on the coffee, eyes staring at the cup as if it had done it on purpose before smiling to himself. He was way too handsome to be true, to be real right in front of you. You didn’t even realize you were staring at him until he looked up, eyes wandering around before locking into yours, making you stare away as fast as you could, focusing on anything you could spot except him.
Then, that afternoon you had totally forgot of the incident until once again, taking the train back home you had to go standing, spotting his now not so styled hair a few feet away from you, gaze on his phone and backpack on his shoulder, a cup of iced coffee on his hand.
Now, a year and a month later you got used to seeing him every single weekday on the train, each morning having a cup of coffee in his hand and every afternoon an iced one.
You never asked his name, nor crossed a word with him, far to accustomed with the way your two schedules intertwined to be in the same train most of the days. For you, he’s just coffee guy, you never were in the need of knowing more, kind of insecure of weirding him out and messing up your comfortable routine.
But it wasn’t like you didn’t saw him again, your eyes unconsciously searched for him every morning and every afternoon, being able to count with your fingers the days you hadn’t seen him in the past laboral year. You knew he apparently loved coffee and had a decent job to be able to pay for the ones he consumed on daily basis. You didn’t know what he worked on though, sometimes spotting him with casual business clothing, or sometimes rocking a three-piece suit. He was very versatile with his style, always managing to look fashionable in any color and aesthetic, you could almost be jealous of it.
You also knew on Thursday once every two or three weeks he got off the train and station earlier than on the one you two use to, always having the wonder of why but never the guts of asking.
Anyways, you knew about coffee guy what he let you superficially know, it wasn’t like you stalked him or anything, you just happen to share train with him, every single day.
The train arrived at the station at the usual time, opening up the doors on this particularly overpopulated day, thankful enough of taking one of the last seats before they ran out, absolutely abhorring the idea of having to go standing in the train, over touched against other sweaty bodies of strangers. Setting your bag and work folders over your lap you let your head fall back against the windows of the train, today has been exhausting with all the upcoming deadlines and the change of season.
The surprisingly sunny Thursday midday just made the day a lot hotter and the train to feel like an oven. Opening your eyes, a bit you finally looked to your side, a familiar chiseled jaw being the first thing you spot, now, eyes wide open you realize that for the first time in the past year of taking this train you are sitting next to coffee guy. And dear lord did he looked even more handsome up closely. His skin glowy because of the thin layer of sweat the afternoon heat produced, your eyes now able to notice how long his eyelashes are and the bunch of little beauty marks spread on his skin.
How could someone have such a beautiful skin? You think, seriously debating if you were to ask for his skin care routine.
You look away when his eyes glance up his phone, not wanting to be caught staring like that first time months ago. Aside the fact that he was now right beside the guy you had admired from afar on multiple times your routine for the day doesn’t change much.
The train starts moving, and on each station, it stopped the flow of people didn’t seem to change, neutralized by the amount of people getting on being quite equal to those getting off. And with that, the annoying heat today’s train had not soothed one bit.
The heat, added to the exhaustion you felt through your whole body and the incessant noise of the people in the train as well as the train itself just caused you a horrible headache that you felt pulsing from the back of your head to your temples.
This was NOT the time for a migraine, especially with the amount of work stuff you had to at home parallel to preparing your thesis presentation.
Resting your head back with a small groan you closed your eyes, focusing on anything but the throbbing pain you felt slowly forming. Failing to catch the pair of chocolate eyes that looked at you, concerned and confused.
Coffee guy was now staring at you, remembering a couple of time he had seen you sport such a dreadful look and body language, knowing you were exhausted, but he, as someone who was just another stranger in your life, didn’t dared to do nothing.
The next day, you didn’t went to work, the headache you felt on the train followed you home and stayed all the evening as you worked on your stuff, the light of the computer screen not helping at all with it, instead, transforming into a really painful migraine that didn’t let you work more, forcing you to lay down in your dark apartment, fighting with your own head to try and fall asleep, hoping it would work.
On the morning you woke up to your phone buzzing, your department boss confused and concerned as where you were, the hands of the clock that rested against the wall over your desk resting a bit past 8 o'clock, meaning you were an hour late to work, but the migraine was still there, not even the painkillers you took at midnight helping it tune it down.
“I’m really sorry, I’ve got a terrible migraine I don’t think I can go to work, sorry for not calling earlier.” You had to say, your boss warning you how this one would not be discounted of your midyear vacations but still won’t be paid, letting you rest at home.
You couldn’t help but be thankful of Seo Eunkwang being such a compasive man and your boss at the same time.
The rest of the Friday you spent it between the bathroom throwing up the little food you had on you and trying to sleep everything away on your bed, not pleasant at all, you could say, feeling a bit less bad on the evening and sleeping throughout the whole night on some more painkillers and without throwing them up again.
On Saturday morning the migraine had almost faded completely thanks to heaven, allowing you to sit down and work the last of your graduation thesis while munching on some leftover fruit on your fridge, you were in need of buying more, buy pay didn’t come through your account until Monday so you could just wait a bit more.
Monday finally rolls in but in in the best of ways, the light of the whole street got cut off, so your phone didn’t charge and the alarm didn’t went off, meaning that you got up later that intended and had to shower in freezing cold water, you rushed out of your apartment to the train station after rushingly fitting on the last pair of clean jeans you had, a white T-shirt and your hands trying to tame your hair. You had already missed your 7:35 train, so you just hoped to catch the one that passed at 7:41 and not make it too late for job.
Dodging the multiple slow walkers, you finally made it before the doors closed, grabbing a seat and finally checking up what you brought. Bag, pear, phone, the weekly chart, lunch bag and… fuck, the folders with the work you did on Thursday night that were on the kitchen counter. But it was too late to turn back, eyes fixed on the sign with the station name, slowly getting further and further until you couldn’t spot it out of the window anymore.
Walking in your company’s building, you made your way to your department, letting yourself fall on your chair.
“Tough morning?” Seonghwa, your desk mate said from the other side of the desk, looking at you over his glasses, a quizzing but comforting look on his eyes.
“Don’t even say it, I don’t want you to jinx the rest of it.” You warned, sitting up properly. “I forgot last week report on my apartment, but I was already too late to turn back, and I can’t just arrive that late after not coming on Friday.”
“Yeah, about that, why didn’t you?” He asked, gaze now fixated on the computer in front of him.
“I got the worst migraine of the month, and the train was so noisy, and it was all so heated my brain wanted to jump out of my cranium.” You exaggerated your words with your hand, making gestures of an explosion that just made Seonghwa laugh at you.
Seonghwa was one of the things that you enjoyed of work besides the work, he was your first work friend, entering as an intern a week before you and helping you get on track with everything. He was just the kindest person you knew, and even after you had to part ways with your college friends last semester, he tried his best to keep you with a good mood, for both your and his sake.
“Here, have a granola bar, you need it.” He said, sledding it until it bumped with your bottle of water making it wobble.
“Yes, mom.” You teased while smiling at him, chuckling as his eyes turned jokingly. “Oh, you love me.” You say to him, before reaching out for the bar, hitting your water bottle over and, very fortunately to you, it opened up, falling all over your shirt and pants, and wetting some papers on the folder on your lap.
“Shit.” You said just as Seonghwa got up, going to grab some toilet paper from the bathroom on the hallway, coming back with a bunch of it in his hands, giving you half of it to dry yourself and using the other half for the desk and the floor.
“Well, I may’ve jinxed it.” He says, throwing the wet paper in the paper bin, standing up.
You just chuckled, trying to keep your composure, breathing in, breathing out. Well, maybe this wasn’t just your morning, maybe the rest of the day will go smoothly as usual. But oh, were you wrong?
The clock hands sat not on 5:12, Mr. Seo made an excuse to the CEO about the report you forgot, giving you a warning and letting it pass, and that may be the only good thing that happened today. You had to redo all the papers the water damaged, putting you behind on today’s work, later on, the longest chart of them all got screwed up on the printing and you sat for 25 minutes trying to fix it.
When lunch break arrived and you thought you could have some peace Seonghwa had to leave earlier for a doctor appointment, leaving you alone, you took your laptop with you to the café down the block, to work on your thesis just to find that all your weekend work got lost somewhere or was just erased, making you feel like crying right there and then, you had to use your emergency money to buy lunch after realizing your rice and beans had spilled all over the lunch bag.
And around 3:30 p.m. you were asked by another superior to go to the post office two blocks away to drop by some letter since Jungwon, the guy they hired to do outside tasks, called in sick. And you did happily, dropping by the bag of mail, breathing in the breeze today had around, the breeze that announced spring; but on the way back to work… it rained, the goddamn deluge had to happen and you were forced to run back to the building, arriving soaked from head to toe, making a slight headache appear.
It just wasn’t your day, apparently.
“Y/N, I got your email with the reports, you can leave for today.” Mr. Seo said, dropping by your office to give you that news and a spare sweater from lost and found so you could cover your wet clothes and maybe not catch a cold.
“Thank you, Mr. Seo.” You say, passing the hoodie over your head.
“No problem, and please, take care on the way back home, I don’t want you to get run over by a car or something.” He said smiling teasingly.
“Don’t jinx it~” You sing song, packing your stuff up, smiling back to him and waving him goodbye.
Please don’t rain again, please don’t rain again. You repeated to yourself over and over again while walking to the nearest supermarket, wanting to buy some stuff you were missing back home and then catch on your usual train, and maybe, see coffee guy again, you were starting to think not seeing him in the morning had been the thing that jinx your Friday and today.
“No, no, I can’t blame it on someone I don’t know.” You said in a mutter, putting some apples behind the variety of vegetables and fruits you had picked, and the carton of eggs, it had been like a week since they ran out and you were missing them on your lunch.
Later on, on the way to the train station your phone fell of your bag, screen shattered after an old guy stepped on it and never looked back. Gosh, today was really getting on your nerves.
Breathing in and out multiple times you made it to the station 3 minutes early, balancing all the paper bag with your groceries on one arm and your work bag on the other.
You looked around, not finding coffee guy around anywhere, making you sigh. Maybe you weren’t going to see him today either. Gaze looking up to the big black and white clock of the station you decided to walk nearer the boarding lane, 1 minute away from the train arriving.
“Oh sh-” You heard a mutter before someone bumped into you, making you step forward and making the paper bag in your hands rip, apples rolling on the station floor. “I’m so sorry.” You heard the male say, not even daring to look up, your eyes fixed on the apple that was still rolling just before it was kicked by a lady on accident.
You felt like that apple, you started you day brightly, red and shiny, and now you felt like the whole universe had stepped on you multiples times today and the whole weekend.
Your sight got crystally, eyes watering after all the frustration you had bottled up throughout the day finally broke, you may be emotional, but this was the final straw of it all, you felt like crying since your phone broke and now you couldn’t hold it in anymore.
“Here’s some of- hey, are you okay?” The man that bumped into you asked, crouching down to see better your face, panicking at the sight of the tears that silently fell down your cheeks on the old hoodie. “Oh no, oh no.” Your ears picked him say, making you snap out of your turmoil of all these overwhelming emotions in your chest, plus the headache.
Looking up your met with the sweetest and most panicked eyes you’d seen, coffee guy looking at you in pure panic, searching for something in his backpack before tending his hand out for you, a white handkerchief in it. “Here, please don’t cry, I’m really really sorry, I didn’t saw you and bumped into you and now you are crying, and I don’t know what to do.” He ranted, his voice a bit higher pitched than you imagined, but really nice to ear, fitting his perfection.
Grabbing the handkerchief, you tried to dry your tears, failing miserably and getting more frustrated, making you let out a small really frustrated sob.
“Here, let’s seat on the bench.” He said, picking up all your groceries and stuffing them in his backpack, before grabbing you gently by the wrist and pulling out of the crowd into one of the benches on the side, letting you sit down first. “Hey, are you really okay? Did I bump too harshly on you? Did-”
“I’m okay.” You answered, finally looking him in the eye, his looking at your tears-stained cheeks, gosh, he was standing there, effortlessly pretty, and here you were, crying in front of him, nose and eyes red. He wanted to believe you, but he couldn’t, not when your voice sounded so broke, and your eyes looked so stressed.
“I know we don’t know each other, but please, don’t cry, I’m going to cry if you keep crying.” He said, grabbing the handkerchief out of your hands and dabbing your wet cheeks in his own attempt to make you stop crying, his words bringing a teary chuckle out of you, his voice soothing you slightly as his eyes looked finally into yours, his own chest feeling a weight taken out, looking attentively at the way you gently pulled his hand away, taking the hoodie sleeves to dry your last tears and sniff your snot away.
“I don’t want you to start crying, so I guess I have to stop.” You mutter, making him smile with you. In that very moment he decided for himself he liked you better smiling, rather than crying. “I’m really sorry I started crying, it just hasn’t been my day.” You say, starting to laugh at yourself, God, you felt so stupid. “And now you missed your train.”
“We both missed our train, but there are next ones, don’t worry about it.” He said, this whole crying situation breaking all the barriers you two had. “Want to talk about it?” He asks in a kind voice.
“I don’t think you want to hear it; I’m just going to jinx yours too.”
“Nah, it has already been jinxed, but yours seemed way worse than mine.” He dismissed with his hand, now taking his own time to look at your face from up close, he had always looked at how pretty you are from afar, a few meters from you while waiting for the train, or a few seats away when in the train, but ever since he sat next to you he felt enchanted by the beauty your face held in all its small details.
“You had a bad day too?” You ask, just to see him nod. “You had an already bad day and I just come and burden you more?” You can help say, feeling the frustration build up again and your tears weld up in your eyes, his warm eyes panicking again.
“No, no, no, no, don’t cry, you know I’ll cry if you cry.” He says, grabbing you gently by the chin to wipe his thumb under you eye, trying to make you look at him but you were looking to the ceiling.
“I’m sorry, is just that my day has not been really nice to me.” You sniff, looking up to try and stop crying. “I lost part of my thesis, and some work reports, and got rained down, and I’m overall frustrated bcause I don’t know why I am crying anymore.” You finish your rant, breathing deeply to try and not burst again in frustration.
“You didn’t make my day worse, you actually kinda made it better, I didn’t saw you on Friday, nor this morning, so I was kinda bummed.” He admits, not realizing what he said until your amused eyes meet his. “Oh, I-”
“You noticed me in the train too?” You ask, now smiling between the glassy eyes, a cute kind of heat spreading inside of you at the look of his blushed cheeks.
“No, I-, yeah, yeah I kinda do.” He sighs, hand passing though his black hair. “I got used to see you every day that now not seeing you is like missing my morning coffee…”
“It’s nice to know I wasn’t the only one expecting the other.” You feel like saying, happy that you now have his full attention on you. “But it’s almost as if we jinxed the other.”
“You could say that, or you could say that seeing the other unjinxes it all.” He says all smiley, eyes hidden by his cheeks. “But well, I guess we should now head to catch the train.” He says, standing up and lending his hand out for you to grab and stand up too. “Then, maybe, we can talk about our day, folder girl.”
“Folder girl? Really?” You ask, amused by the nickname, but happy to be noticed by your public transport crush.
“You are always carrying folders around, what can I say.” He excuses himself.
“My name is Y/N, coffee guy.” You say, standing up too and grabbing your stuff, blinking multiple times to take the feeling of dry tears off of your eyes.
“Coffee guy… makes senses, I’ll grant you that.” He says, his shiny smile never wiping off his face. “My name is San, nice to meet you Y/N.”
“Same to you, San.”
When taking the next train the two of you managed to seat next to the other, apparently he works as a software intern in a company a few block away from you, but he also models every once in a while with a friend and you couldn’t help but nod to everything he said, he looked so beautiful when talking about it that you felt like enchanted to him.
“Where’s your iced coffee tho?” You ask, noticing just now how his hands were empty.
“I got out late and couldn’t pass through my friends’ café for it.” He shrugged. “Maybe, if you want, we can go for some when we arrive at our station.” He suggests, a bit of nervousness in his voice.
“I’d like that, yeah.” You nod, smile wide. “When did you noticed me?”
“That day when it was so so full both of us went standing, you had your hair in a bun, so it was really easy to spot.” He says, he always wondered if you always took the same train at him, sometimes burdening himself into not noticing you earlier. “Why didn’t you come on Friday?”
“I had a horrible migraine, so I couldn’t get out of my apartment. But I’m kind of glad it was a bad day, because if it wasn’t today probably wouldn’t either, and we wouldn’t have talked.” You say, making him nod along with you. “By the way, where are my groceries?”
“Oh, they are in my bag, we can later see where to put them.” He says shrugging it off as he patted his backpack in his lap.
Now, talking to him, you wondered how you never approached him before, breaking your routine didn’t seem so bad.
“It’s nice hanging out with you, San.” You mutter, waiting in line for your beverages.
“You know? I was really bummed on Friday when you didn’t came.” He starts, eyes looking at nothing in particular before glancing at you.
“I heard you mentioning that, yeah.” You nod, receicing your hot chocolate from the café barista as he recieved his iced latte.
“On the morning I just though you were late as you use to, but then on the afternoon you didn’t showed up either. After the noon before on the train when we sat together I decided I wanted to talk to you, so on Friday I bought you a milkshake so I could like, force me to talk to you and not coward like other times?” He says, earning your whole attention as you to sit down on the corner table.
“No way, you are that sweet?” You say amused, damn, now you abhorred migraines even more. “What did you did with the milkshake?”
“I drank it later.” He shrugged, taking a slurp of his coffee before smiling sweetly at you. “I’m just glad this happened today, even if we lost an apple on the go.” He joked, making you laugh, and now San had a sound he enjoyed more than you voice, your sincere laugh.
And you just thought, maybe your jinx day wasn’t that bad after all.
This is a work of fiction, people mentioned or involved are actual human beings and none of this work is based on actual facts over the celebrities mentioned nor is intented to portray them in a realistic way.
Some themes are not factually acurate, any problem detected on the information given may be comunicated to me via DM.
