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
overview: after meeting san a year ago in your drag of a calculus class, you became close friends and have found yourselves voluntarily paired up for a history presentation. when you arrive at his apartment to work on the project, things get heated once you both realize you’ve been down bad for each other since you met
***MINORS DNI***
genre: smut, fluffy smut. friends to lovers, mutual pining, college au. honestly this is all just smut with a bit of scene setting at the beginning. but it’s sweet so
word count: 14.3k
author’s note: this is my first time ever writing smut kaksjsjshs i had a lot of fun with it, i hope y’all enjoy! :) again, minors please do NOT interact with this post
“A lot of women here are beautiful, but she stands out. She is truly stunning,” San stated, taking a sip of the expensive wine offered at the party, eyes watching you—his wife of four months—while you conversed with other mafia wives.
You were dressed in a v-neck black gown that had a slit running up to a few inches above your mid-thigh. You were wearing a simple diamond necklace that San had given you a few weeks back, and he couldn’t stop himself from feeling happy that you chose to wear it today.
“And yet you never let her know that,” Wooyoung said to his bestfriend, reaching into his pocket to take his pocket knife out. “Sometimes, I feel like stabbing you,” he stated, holding the small knife up.
“Of course you do. She is your sister, after all,” San chuckled. “I do give her a lot of gifts every week. She’s content… or at least she seems to be.”
Wooyoung sighed, downing his sixth shot for the night. “Sannie, my sister isn’t like most women here in this hall who are content with a materialistic life. Y/N would’ve never married you if our father didn’t force her to. She always wanted to marry for love.”
San felt a slight ache in his chest. “I can never give her that. Love… it’s nothing but a weakness.”
Wooyoung snorted, downing another shot, having heard that sentence from San’s mouth ever since they became bestfriends three years ago. San’s father always told him that love was a weakness, especially in the mafia world; if a rival group knew you were madly in love with someone, the best way to get what they want is to kill the person you love.
“I know your father always told you that ever since you were young, but you need to give yourself a chance to experience it. Trust me, there’s no better feeling than love. And you really need to hurry up before Y/N reaches her limit and dumps your ass for another man.” San’s jaw clenched at the last sentence; he couldn’t even stand the thought of you in another man’s arms.
San was about to say something, but he saw you making your way towards him and your brother.
“Woo!” you hugged your twin brother tightly. “I missed you so much!”
“You’re squishing me!”
“Oops!” you laughed, pulling away from him with a bright smile that made San’s heart flutter.
San listened to you talk to Wooyoung about how you wanted to buy a yacht, mesmerized by how happy you were in your brother’s presence; it was something he rarely got to see as he’s cold and ignorant to you most of the time. He never wanted to be like that with someone as sweet as you, but he knew if he didn’t treat you like that, his true feelings for you would be exposed and you would become his weakness.
“Oh, excuse me for a moment,” you said when you spotted an old friend. You made your way towards the man. “Bae Jinyoung!” he turned to look at you, surprised to see you here.
“Oh? Jung Y/N?! Oh wait no, now you’re Choi Y/N,” he stated with a smirk. You chuckled, pulling him into a friendly hug, making San’s blood boil with jealously; he hated how you smiled and laughed with another man.
“Oh you look pissed off, I wonder why,” Wooyoung teased an evidently annoyed San.
“How does she know him?” San questioned, eyes never leaving you.
“Jinyoung is our childhood friend,” he took another shot. “And Y/N’s first love,” he added.
“What?!” San half-yelled, causing a few people nearby to briefly look at him. You glanced at your husband for a second before turning your attention back to Jinyoung, pissing San off further. “That was him?!” he asked in a lower volume. San knew you were in a friends-with-benefits relationship for almost two years; however, he wasn’t expecting it to be with Bae Jinyoung. San had nothing personal against the guy, but he just didn’t like the way Jinyoung boasted about his wealth and success when there were many other young mafia bosses who were as successful as him. He didn’t understand how an extremely humble woman like you would be into a man like that.
“Chill, they’re just friends now,” Wooyoung said with a smirk. San watched how you laughed with Jinyoung, feeling his heart ache; he knew it was his fault for being so cold to you, but he still wished you would be like that with him, too.
“If it affects you so much, pull your shit together and go get your woman,” Wooyoung stated.
San took a few deep breaths before he made his way towards you, surprising Wooyoung because San usually never listens to him.
“Babe, it’s getting late,” San said, wrapping his arms around your waist. “Let’s go home, yeah?” he placed a soft kiss on your head. You froze in shock for a second, wondering why he was suddenly being so nice and affectionate to you, especially in public. Once he let you go, you cleared your throat.
“Until next time, huh?” Jinyoung said to you with a wide smile. You chuckled and nodded, giving him a quick hug while you told him to take care before leaving with San.
-
As soon as you got home, San went straight to his room. You wanted to ask him about the kiss he had placed on your head, but you decided against it, coming to the conclusion that he just didn’t want other people to gossip about you conversing alone with another man who happened to be your ex-lover.
You moved to your closet, removing your clothes and jewelry. You wore clean panties and a large t-shirt before going to the bathroom to take your makeup off.
Once you were done, you went to the kitchen to fill up the water bottle you kept beside your bed. San was in the living room, going through some documents about a drug deal his gang was going to make with an international mafia gang. He was shirtless, only wearing his gray sweatpants.
After you filled your water bottle, you tried to reach for the jar of stroopwafels that San had brought from his trip to Amsterdam.
San made his way towards the kitchen to get a drink, stopping in his tracks when he saw you standing on your tippy toes, trying to reach the jar. He couldn’t help himself from checking you out. Your t-shirt had risen up your thighs to your hips, revealing the red panties you were wearing. San took a deep breath, trying not to seem bothered while he moved right behind you to get the jar down for you, placing it on the counter.
You turned around, a little flustered by how close he was. “Thank you,” you mumbled shyly, trying your best to not look at his bare upper half.
San chuckled, noticing everything. “You can look at me, it’s okay,” he said, amused by your stunned expression and the pink shade coloring your cheeks. He leaned forward a little, placing his arms on the counter, trapping you in between his muscular arms. “I am your husband, after all.” San slowly leaned in, his eyes flickering between your eyes and your lips. He stopped just a centimeter away. “Fuck, you make me feel so many unexplainable things,” he murmured, pulling away. He gave you a small smile before walking back to the couch, continuing his previous task of reading the documents, leaving you standing all alone in the kitchen, utterly stunned by his actions.
You snorted, realizing what just happened. You made your way towards your husband, letting your eyes roam over his toned upper half this time. You gently took the documents away from his hands, tossing it onto the adjacent couch.
“You can’t just leave me like that,” you climbed onto his lap, “after saying such things.” you straddled him, and this time it was his turn to be surprised and flustered by your bold actions.
San quickly composed himself. “What are you gonna do about it?” he questioned with a smirk, hands moving to grip your bare thighs. You wrapped your arms around his neck and leaned in, brushing your lips against his. “This,” you whispered, pressing yourself down on his bulge, causing him to suck in a breath. San’s hands gripped your thighs tighter while you gently moved on his growing bulge. You crashed your lips onto his, letting out a gasp when his hands moved to grip your ass. San kissed you back passionately, enjoying the way your hands moved to tug on his black hair. You felt yourself getting wetter and wetter while San moved you faster on his bulge.
You pulled away, gently pulling at the ends of his hair. “I want you.”
San looked quite hesitant, wondering if you really wanted to take it to the next level despite everything. His hand reached up to cup your cheek. “Are you sure?” he asked, gently stroking your skin with his thumb.
“Yes… please,” you begged, leaning your forehead against his.
San couldn’t refuse. He picked you up, placing an arm below your ass to support your weight while your legs wrapped around him. He carried you to his room, heartbeat racing faster and faster with every step.
He placed you on his bed, eyes never leaving you while you pulled your large t-shirt over your head, exposing your upper half. San gently pushed you onto your back, hovering above you. His lips latched onto your neck, kissing around the area until you let out a whimper, signaling that he found your sweet spot. San began sucking and nibbling on the spot, making sure to leave a mark. He trailed kisses down from your neck to your breasts, taking one of your nipples into his mouth while he rolled the other one with his fingers. He gave the same treatment to the other one before moving down your body, stopping at the waistband of your panties. He looked up, asking for your permission. When you nodded, he pulled your soaked panties down your legs, tossing it somewhere in the room.
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” San said, eyes taking in the sight of you naked, your glistening pussy on full display for him.
He situated himself in between your legs, spreading them further apart. He gave your clit a few kitten licks before taking your nub into his mouth, gently sucking on it.
“San!” you moaned, hands reaching down to grab his hair while he sucked on your nub. “Fuck! It feels so good.” Your legs tried to close, but he forced them open. Your chest heaved while your husband ate you out like a starved man. “S-San, I want you in me right now!” he hummed in response, the vibration causing your walls to clench. He left your clit to collect your wetness with his tongue, satisfied by how wet you were.
San pulled away, licking his lips. “You taste so fucking good, baby.” He took his sweatpants off along with his hip briefs, exposing his hard cock that was already leaking with precum. He reached for his bedside table, taking a condom out from the drawer. He quickly tore the packet and slid the condom onto his length while you admired his well built body.
San leaned down to kiss you. “Are you ready?” he asked. You nodded and he positioned himself at your entrance. He slowly entered you, causing you to clench at the sudden stretch that you haven’t experienced in a long time. He continued to push in until you were completely filled up. You took a couple of seconds to adjust to his size. “You can move now.”
San began thrusting into you slowly at first, just wanting to feel you and the way you clenched around him. “Fuck, babe, you’re soo tight,” he commented, eyes scrunching shut in pleasure when your walls tightened around him. He leaned forward to capture your lips with his own in a slow, sensual kiss. You moaned into his mouth when you felt him hit your spot. He pulled away to kiss your neck while your nails ran down the expanse of his back. “S-San,” you mewled. “I wanna ride you, please.” He looked up at you with a smirk.
“What my baby wants, my baby gets.” He pulled out of you to sit against the pillows. You straddled his lap, sinking down onto his cock. You immediately started bouncing on his length, wasting no time. “Fuck, babe!” San moaned, hands moving to grip your hips. “Slow down, baby, you’re gonna make me cum.”
You smirked, moving even faster, making him groan in pleasure. San watched your boobs bounce while you threw your head back, feeling him repeatedly hit your spot. You felt the knot forming in your lower area. “San, I'm—” you couldn’t even finish your sentence due to the intense pleasure.
“I know, me too,” he managed to say through grunts. His hands moved to grip your ass, making you move even faster. The sound of your moans and skin clapping filled the air, and a thin layer of sweat formed on San’s body, making it slightly glisten under the light.
“Baby, come for me,” he said, rubbing your clit in circular motions. Your legs shook and your walls wildly clenched around him. You yelled out San’s name when you reached your high, a great euphoric feeling taking over your entire body. San came right after you, spilling into the condom. You moved on him a few more times, milking him dry, before you got off of him, collapsing beside him while you tried to control your breathing. San kissed your head before moving to dispose the used condom in the trash-can in his bathroom. He turned on the water in the whirlpool tub, knowing how much you loved it.
“How do feel?” he asked, placing a soft kiss on your lips.
You smiled up at him. “I feel amazing, so ecstatic… I can’t even describe it.”
San chuckled, his dimples showing. He gently picked you up bridal-style, carrying you to his bathroom. He settled down in the large tub, pulling you against his body, feeling like he was on cloud nine.
Although San was taught that love is nothing but a weakness, he knew he had fallen hard for you. If this is what it felt like to have a weakness, he was ready to risk it all.
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.”
✁ genre: soulmate au, reincarnation au, forbidden love au from their first life, semi-angst, fluff and happy ending! warnings:mentions of death from their first life from San k wording them, language rated pg-16
✁ wc: 1897
✁ plot: maybe you’ve met one another from a past life; at least that’s what you wanted to tell yourself. there was something about his alarming presence that wasn’t all red flags in your head, but you wondered why you felt so safe around him. the only thing, however, you were absolutely sure of was that you must’ve gone absolutely insane over this one handsome stranger who claims to be your soulmate.
✁ a/n: finally back this weekend to get some stuff out for the time being!! i hope you guys like this next installment of the rewritten series as it’s my favorite soulmate trope of all time!! let me know what you all think of it!
✁ gina is listening to: [ dusk till dawn by zayn & sia ]
It was almost like clockwork where you’ve woken up in a sweat because of a vivid dream that you had.
Your heart was palpitating so hard you felt as though it could’ve fallen out of your chest, sweat slightly forming at the edge of your forehead. You glanced at your alarm clock to see the illuminated clock mocking you, the time showing that it was 5:53 in the morning. It was supposed to be your day off from work, yet your body had woken you up at this specific time almost everyday in fear that you had been forgetting about something.
Getting up to at least shake off your nerves, you thought back to your dreams as you tried to make sense of what it meant. You were confused considering it was a recurring dream, or at least the setting was, and you recall being a royal in each one of them. It made you wonder if it was actually a sign of your past life just flashing behind your eyes, or if it was showing you what you must’ve done in an alternative universe.
Short to say that it never ended well as you recalled tonight’s events with a churned stomach.
“Your royal highness!”
Your head towards a familiar voice in the midst of your frantic movements, the sight of them making you even more stressed given the last couple moments. Today was supposed to be your coronation, in which you were meant to be crowned queen of your kingdom after years of training for etiquette decorum; it was finally paying off.
“Seonghwa-“
“Something is happening outside, we have to get you to safety, now.” He says, gently taking your hands into his and your eyebrows furrowed in confusion at his words.
“What are you talking about? What’s going on?” You asked him, briskly walking down the corridors of the castle with a million thoughts on your mind, but your first priority came to a specific person.
“Where is he?”
The mention of the individual makes him freeze up for a moment, making you realize that it involved him. There’s a look in his eyes that you couldn’t identify but the screaming sounds of fear makes you think that this must’ve been what the latter was trying to talk to you about the other day, when he claimed that they were all hypothetical. He had been scheming this the entire time for every moonlit walk that he took you on that cost you your life because you would’ve snuck out just for him; everything was for him.
“Y/N, we have to get you somewhere safe…” He says tugging on your hand a bit, but tears pool into your eyes the moment that you hear the footsteps trail behind you and watch as Seonghwa freezes in his spot.
You turn around in your spot to see him, making your stomach drop at his stained sword that he so proudly holds in his hand, his tattered clothing proving that he had gone through all the other security guards to get to you. Chills run down your spine as your blood runs cold at the sight of him; he was no longer the lover that you were forbidden to be with, but instead the enemy that held your fate in his hands because he stood in front of you, the ruler of the land that he was damned on.
Your dream would always end with him driving his sword into your abdomen and his final words whispered into your ear, making you consistently wake up in a gasp with your hands on your stomach. You didn’t know who this man was, but you knew that if you were to see him in real life that it would’ve been a curse come true.
Getting up to go wash your face and grab a glass of water to cool your nerves, you feel your phone go off in your pocket from when you had pocketed it earlier to see that you were getting a text from your friend, San. Looking at his text at this moment sent chills down your spine, the same ones that you felt in your dreams, but you were confused as to why you had felt them in the first place.
There’s a comb at the corner of the counter that you recognized to be San’s, having to have left it from when he came over the other day for you to help him dye his hair. A smile creeps its way onto your lips as the fond memory of you both enjoying your night, and it was as if you both were almost lovers; almost was a way to put it as there was something on the inside telling you to not date him for some reason.
“Y/N!”
The very voice on the other end of the line was from him, an incoming call that you chose to pick up while you were grabbing your keys to allow yourself to take a walk to clear your mind for a bit. Your mind seems to be troubled for a moment as you spoke to him, the calm and comforting voice that you were always adorned to suddenly became uncomfortable, or unsettling at least as you spoke to him ever since you woke up from the dream.
“Why are you up so early, San? It’s only six thirty, and you’re not opening.” You point out while you could see the sun slowly peek out from behind the buildings that you were passing by, mixtures of warm colors painting the sky and you suddenly feel calmer.
“Would it be weird if I said that I woke up, because of you?”
Your heart freezes up for a moment as his words made you feel as though they struck a nerve, and it was almost as if there was a strange pull that was telling you to turn around. There right behind you stood him in all his glory, a warm smile on his face as he gives you a small wave just seconds before the line cuts and he walks over to you in long strides with his sun glowed proportions almost knocking the wind out of you.
Since when was he already out at this hour?
It was almost as if time had slowed down unknowingly in your favor, watching as different parallel universes cross over and suddenly you see him in all of the recurring dreams that you’ve been haunted with. It was him that answered every missing piece of the puzzles that you’ve been presented with, and you could feel yourself wanting to leave if it weren’t for the fact that your legs felt paralyzed at the sight of him heading over towards you.
Color leaves your face the moment that he touches your hands and no longer was the smile on his face, instead rather replaced with a frown as he wonders why you weren’t happy at the sight of him. You looked scared, terrified almost, as if you were no longer sending him the signals that you had been giving him since last night, and if he could, he would confess to you on the very spot if he wasn’t worried about what had been going on.
“S-San… What if I told you that I’ve seen you before? Like not in this universe, but instead another.” You finally spoke up and looked him in the eyes, seeing concern written in them but nothing indicating what you had just found out on your own.
You remembered him from a past life.
He doesn’t say anything as his eyebrows furrow at your words, unsure as to what he should respond with while he thinks about what you had meant by that. Eyes avoiding yours for a moment, he wonders if he had done anything wrong until he feels your fingers gently pull his chin back so that he was looking at you in the eyes and suddenly you’re placing your lips against his, hoping that all the fairytale books were right while the same surge that you went through when you had found out.
The two of you kiss under the rising sun, the familiar blue sky pouring in past the warm colors that were painting it earlier as time suddenly stops being frozen, and the moment you pull away is when you feel tears stream down your face. He looks at you worriedly, unsure of what to say because he realizes that you two were meant to meet once again since then, as if you were soulmates, however you were sure of what was supposed to be next in your story.
“I can’t be with you, again.”
The six words easily break his heart as he watches you cry because of him, something that he dealt the consequences for, and he would forever have to learn and deal with them because he was the one that enacted those same decisions. You were going to be hurt because of him constantly, but he doesn’t want that to happen again, especially not now when he had just found you again after vowing that he would.
There wasn’t any way for you to hear what he had said after he promised that he would find you again, because the moment that he said that he would promise to love you better in your next life and give you both a different ending was left out. You weren’t aware of the weeks of tears he shed unknowingly behind the closed doors of the kingdom he took over from you, and he would never let you know that he had done so.
“But I love you.” He whispers softly, moving his hands from where they were previously holding onto yours and onto the apples of your cheeks.
You shake your head in response because as much as you would’ve loved to be in his arms again, you were scared; the thought of being with him when he could hold your vulnerability, your everything in the palm of his hands to crush was evident. However, you weren’t ready to come home to him yet and maybe in another life you could be with him
“Maybe you did then, but right now… I need time to process the fact that we’re soulmates,” You reply, making him nod in response as you pull away from his touch, making chills run down your spine once more again today.
“I still can’t forgive you for what you did, San. You need to show me that you changed, if you want to take me home with you.”
He knows why you had asked him to do that, and he is going to do it. He wants to be with you in this lifetime, because he doesn’t want to lose you again due to his own selfish actions. You were the one that had always loved him for more than who he was back then and even in this life that you somehow made up for yourselves, and with the lingering thoughts of your past life slowly blending in up to the events of last night when you had dyed his hair with him, he knows that you were it for him.
It was always you that was his home.
“I promise that I will show you… And when I do, I’ll take you home.”
Part Three: a blacksmith, a nightmare, and oh-so-sweet empathy
series rating:16+
series genre: action and adventure. romance. angst. fluff. suggestive. fantasy au.
series warnings: character death, blood and violence, weaponry, injury, suggestive content, mxm content, elements of misogyny, language, monsters. (will only be using chapter specific warnings for things not included on this list.)
summary:as a princess fleeing a royal assassination attempt, you have no choice but to put your trust in a band of three thieves in order to reach the kingdom of kuroku alive. however, amongst magic, deceit, and the bounty hunters that are hot on your trail, you realize that you might have stumbled upon a relationship far more complicated than what meets the eye.
chapter details beneath the cut ->
chapter wc: 12.9k
extra chapter warnings: panic attack, mentions of v*mit, alcohol.
summary:
You feel the presence of a figure settle behind you, as San awkwardly clears his throat.
“I meant to tell you earlier,” he says, voice quiet. You can faintly see his reflection through the window as well, and his expression is somber. “I just wasn’t sure how.”
a/n:woo says eat the rich.
You’ve always loved the sound of birds chirping. Always one to appreciate a delicate song, each morning in a slightly different tune rousing you awake. As monotonous as palace life could be at times, the bird’s song was always a part of your routine you could never tire of.
You aren’t tired of them now, as you make your way along the forest path. Having successfully made it out of the inner circle of the woods alive, the scenery is far more comforting than ominous. The twisted spindling tree’s replaced once again by tall pine and oaks, the deep darkness now broken by the sun peaking through the forest canopy. Beams of sunlight dancing between your fingers, you hum along to the bird’s steady tune, bare feet pressing gently against the lush soil.
Having taken a stroll by yourself, the sound of the three men bustling around your make-shift campsite fades away into the background, even the gentle breeze overpowering their voices as they chatter amongst themselves.
It’s nice, you think, to have a moment to yourself. A peaceful one, where you don’t feel at risk of being murdered, injured, or having the reality of your identity discovered.
You hear the sound of a stream up ahead - or perhaps simply a slow-moving river - and your feet are set in motion before you can even really contemplate following the noise.
It is, in fact, a river. Although the water rushes at a far greater pace than originally expected. Walking up to the shoreline, it’s incredibly satisfying when your toes dip into the stream, the coolness pleasant as the dirt and grime from the following days gently washes away.
You think of how nice it would be to take a bath at the moment, like the ones you could have any time back at the castle. Lavish soaps and fragrances, steaming hot water and bubbles only a beck and call away.
One of the many privileges you took for granted. If you ever do get to Kuroku and manage to marry the Prince, you’ll be sure to not take such things so lightly.
Closing your eyes to further enjoy the feeling of the water against your bare skin. Taking in a deep breath, you’re flooded with the smell of pine and the logfire from back at the camp. You suppose that this is one thing you never had back in the kingdom, only imported fruit trees growing in the castle gardens, and the thought of a campfire anywhere near the King’s study is almost comedical.
So if the possibility of a warm bath be an unattainable longing, you may as well revel in what would have also been impossible for you to have back at home.
After a moment, you open your eyes, prepared to return back to the campsite and the vast journey you have ahead of you. However, your limbs can’t seem to force themselves into motion, as you catch sight of a man further up ahead the river.
Blinking, you narrow your gaze, surely seeing things.
Surely, because what - or better, who - you are seeing is simply not possible.
Silver hair disheveled, he bustles around in a small wooden boat, only big enough for roughly two people. Turning around to observe the stern - and subsequently the side facing you - he rubs a steak of dirt from his forehead, letting out a deep and frustrated sigh. After a moment, he tiredly looks up, and you are greeted by a pair of familiar eyes.
A familiar nose. Familiar cheeks and a familiar steady jawline. Familiar lips as they settle into a frustrated pout.
Familiar everything. All details embedded into your memory after a lifetime of seeing them, these details something that have rarely left your mind within the last couple days. A familiarness that you never thought you would see again.
Tears immediately flood your eyes, and you’re half-blinded by the glossiness as you rush towards the man. Sore limbs practically flailing outwards from the sheer speed of your pursuit, your voice breaks out in emotion as you call out to him.
“Mingi!” His eyes widen as you call out to him, and his expression settles into a grin. A familiar and cheeky - would slap it off of him if you weren’t so utterly relieved - sort of grin.
Crashing into him, he lets out a small “oof”as you wrap your arms around tall frame. Squeezing him painfully tight, you just need to make sure that he’s actually there. That he’s real and solid, not some twisted fragment of your imagination.
It’s only once you decide that he checks all of these boxes that you finally let him go.
“Y-You’realive,” you practically blubber out, still not quite believing it.
Because this isn’t possible, itcan’tbe.
Yet somehow, it is.
Watching the way your lip quivers, the overwhelming emotions just too much for a singular moment, he lets out a quiet chuckle before using one of his fingers to wipe away a rogue tear that trails down your cheek.
“Of course I’m alive,” he replies, voice gentle. “You didn’t really think I’d go that easy, did you?”
Yes, you did. You heard his screams, those desperate wails of agony, so horrific that they fill your mind every time the silence becomes too thick. It didn’t seem that there was much possibility for another fate, death the singular option for something so terrible.
Yet, here he is. Standing before you, tall and steady, solid and breathing. Alive.
“How?” You start before clearing your throat, which is choked and raspy with shock. “How did you make it out of there? I heard you die, Mingi. I-I feltit, in my chest I felt it. So how-”
“How about I tell you on the way to Kuroku?” He smiles, gesturing to the boat beside him against the shoreline, having been forgotten in the moment’s relief.
The three men back at your campsite only cross your mind for a split second. You wonder what Seonghwa might think, how much sadness those big brown eyes might gleam with, if he might even think you were murdered or abducted. You think of San, if within those analytical and lingering glances he might have always suspected something was off, although you doubt it.
You even think of Woo, and just how much he will boast about being right about you all along.
However, with that thought the moment of hesitation disappears, and you step into the boat.
Mingi follows suit after you, taking a seat at the stern before using an ore to push the two of you away from the shoreline. Wind blows against your face as the tiny boat slowly begins to gain momentum, water splashing up from the current before you and stinging your eyes, a journey full of unknowns awaiting you. However, this time you don’t mind.
No, because with Mingi, you feel safe. You feel protected and comfortable. At home, with someone to trust, as well as pick up all of the slack that you simply cannot carry.
Twisting yourself around in the boat to face him, you find that he is already smiling at you. That warm, familiar grin enough to fill your chest with warmth. A genuine glimpse of happiness, the first you’ve felt amidst the endless sorry that has coated the last few days.
“I missed you,” you say simply, because what other statement could possibly hold more truth?
“I know,” he replies, and you snort at this. He was never one for sentimentality.
“So how did you get out of the stable?” You ask, settling your chin in your palm, elbow resting against your knees. Scanning his figure, you’re surprised at how well dressed he is, in spotless kingdom armour with not even a splotch of grime to be found. “I don’t even see any wounds on you,” you say, only realizing how odd this fact is as the words leave your mouth, narrowing your eyes to inspect him closer.
Mingi laughs, eyes focusing out on the water in front of him. After a moment, his grin slowly morphs into a thin line. Still smiling, although it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. It’s a strange sort of expression, one you aren’t sure you’ve ever seen him wear before.
His gaze shifts back to yours, and when he speaks, his voice is plain.
“I didn’t.”
You blink.
“What?” You ask, assuming you must have heard him wrong.
“I didn’t make it out of the stable,” he answers easily, although perhaps it is this steadiness to his voice that causes an unsettling chill to pass through you. The boy’s eyes remain fixated on your own as he speaks, still entirely unblinking. “I died there, just as gruesomely as you expected me to.”
“Mingi,” You begin, doing your best to keep your voice steady and mind calm. Surely, he must be kidding. This is some sort of strange, bizarre sort of joke. “What are you talking about?”
“Did you even think about coming back for me?” He asks, and at this his eyebrows furrow slightly, a new edge to his voice. “Did you even think I was worthy of saving,Princess?”
A pang of both hurt and guilt rattles in your chest, caught off guard by the malevolence behind the words. “Of course I wanted to,” you start, looking at him incredulously. “But you told me to run.”
“And you didn’t even think twice about it, did you?” He continues, tone snide. It’s with this comment that he drops both of the ores into the water, and they quickly begin to take off down the river, moving much faster than your boat due to their light weight.
“Mingi, the ores-” you begin, almost following them over the edge in an attempt at reaching out for one of them. Mingi, however, seems as if he couldn’t care less.
“You won’t be needing them,” he states bluntly. “There’s no chance you’ll make it to Kuroku by yourself.”
Anger, mixed with both confusion and terror, twists within your gut. “What the hell are you even talking-”
“But I suppose you’re not really by yourself, are you?” He ponders aloud, the thin line of his lips shifting into something sinister. A twisted smirk, and when he smiles there’s blood between each of his teeth, so much so that it drips down onto his lips. “Running with thieves now, are we Princess?”
Shame twists within you, and you suddenly feel small. This tiny boat is like a box, like a trap. “I was just doing what I had to do.”
“How noble,” he laughs. A darkness suddenly falls over the two of you, and you look upwards to see that the sky has become shrouded in black clouds. An oncoming storm - and a nasty one at that - beginning to brew.
Mingi suddenly leans in, a little too close for your liking. “You’re going to rot in hell,” he whispers, voice almost gentle. “For choosing them over me.”
“I didn’t-” you begin, but you’re cut off by your own cough. More surprising, however, is that with this cough comes water. Spluttering from your lips, it drenches the front of your tunic. Attempting to suck in a breath, you find that for some reason, you can’t.
You can’t breathe, as with every time you inhale, it feels as if you aren’t taking in air at all. But water.
Looking back up from your drenched tunic, your panicked eyes do not meet Mingi’s at all, but rather Woo’s. Sitting before you in that same kingdom guard attire, teeth just as bloody.
“Enjoy the swim, Princess,” he laughs, and with no more than a gentle push against your chest, he pushes you overboard.
No matter how desperately you fight upwards, your body sinks as if it were stone.
You wake with a start. Sweat beading across your forehead, each individual breath is ragged as you attempt to steady yourself. Your breathing, however, refuses to cooperate. Throat feeling tight and choked, it’s as if the drowning had actually been real.
Shaky hands coming up to cover your eyes, you shuffle yourself upwards, so that you’re seated with your knees drawn into your chest.
It all felt so real. The drowning, the terror, the guilt.
Mingi.
“In. Out. In. Out. In. Out,” you repeat in your mind, just trying to get your breathing regulated. Yet, it appears to be of no use, as it’s as if your lungs are no longer connected to your brain. Acting completely on their own accord, and that is to say not at all.
Panic rising hot in your throat, you feel the sudden urge to vomit. Nausea swims and twists within your gut, each breath more shallow than the next. With your palms clammy and mind fuzzy with hysteria, you struggle to rise to your feet before you even register where exactly you’re going.
You need to get out of this tent. The stuffiness decidedly underbearable, you’re in desperate need of some fresh air.
Pulling back the flap, you’re immediately greeted by the eyes of all three men turning to stare at you. Seonghwa opens his mouth, most likely to utter a “good morning” or something along those lines, but stops as he catches sight of your wide and startled eyes, as well as frantic and heaving chest.
“Are you alright?” He asks, eyebrows furrowed together in genuine worry, mouth parted in a downturned fashion. San and Woo both seem equally as curious, sharing a momentary side-glance between one another as they watch you carefully.
You need to get a hold of yourself. Fast, before curiosity twists into suspicion.
Feeling only slightly as if you are suffocating, you are careful to avoid all of their eyes as you make your way over to Seonghwa, clearing your throat. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just not a morning person.”
The man is obviously not satisfied by the answer, your present state surely appearing more nervous and terrified compared to tired. Seonghwa narrows his eyes, although after a moment, he appears to decide against saying anything.
“Are you hungry?” San asks from his place over by the fire. Turning your attention over to the swordsman, you watch as he fries eggs on a pan over the flame. An awfully domestic look, adorning a stained apron rather than the series of knives and fur coat he usually wears, your lips quirk upwards unintentionally at the bizarreness of the display.
The ringing in your ears finally settles to a dull buzz, you let out a shaky breath, the moment’s panic finally subsiding.
“I could eat,” you answer - impressed by the steadiness of your own voice - and he smiles. Handing you a small plank of wood as a substitute for a plate, he drops a singular egg down before you. Having not eaten for roughly a day and a half now, your stomach protests at the measly excuse for breakfast, especially considering it’s grown used to the grand feasts from back at the palace.
“We’re only a few hours out from a town,” San says, sensing your disappointment. “So don’t worry, we’ll stop there for the night. I think a bed and a hot meal might do you some good.”
You wonder just how disheveled you must look to earn such a statement, but frankly, you can’t disagree.
“We also have a couple errands to run,” he continues, dropping an egg onto his own place before sitting down on the log next to you. “If you don’t mind tagging along.”
“No problem,” you reply, even though you’re not so sure if it really is “no problem”. You know the town that’s coming up ahead - Stockholm - and considering you’ve visited quite a few times throughout the years, it’s a very real possibility that someone may recognize you.
But you also have to play into your role, and saying no to such a simple request would be undeniably suspicious. You’ll just have to be careful, wear Mingi’s cloak up high and keep your head down, and everything should be fine.
Hopefully.
“What sort of errands?” You ask, ensuring that your tone remains nonchalant.
“Well, Seonghwa and Woo will go look for a cheap tavern for us to stay the night, somewhere with a stable,” San answers, before practically devouring his own egg in one bite, covering his mouth as he chews before speaking again. “Then you and I will go to the market to get some supplies, mostly medical stuff, because it’s been made apparent we’re severely lacking. We’ll also pick up some clothes that aren’t so damn bloody. Oh, and get you an actual pair of shoes.”
You can’t help but let out a sigh of relief at the statement, one you didn’t even realize you’d been holding onto. Looking down at your feet, coated in dirt and dry blood, heels certainly calloused and blistered, you never thought that the possibility of simply having shoes could be something so incredible to look forward to.
San seems to take note of this relief, lip curving upward slightly into a sort of half-smile. “So eat quick,” he says, nodding towards your already half-eaten egg. “We’ll take off in five.”
Stockholm is an endearing town.
One of the very few places outside of your own castle and kingdom that you’ve ever been permitted to visit, the little village has always held a very special place in your heart.
Typically, you’d visit at the very beginning of autumn, when the entire town would transform into a collage of red, orange and yellow hues. The scents of hazelnut and cinnamon filling the air, the streets would be decorated to the nines in hopes of impressing their guests: the royal family - your family - who always stopped by annually for the occasion.
But now, with autumn still a fair distance from approaching and summer well within its prime, this cinnamon smell is now replaced by that of greenery. The air is hot and filled with a lush and flowery scent, and the area surrounding the streets and market are unlike you have ever seen them.
There is a certain simplicity to Stockholm that you never witnessed on your royal visits, a level of mundaneness that surprises you. Family’s make their way up and down the narrow streets, running their daily errands rather than attending the many autumn festivals. Fetching eggs rather than apple cider and pumpkin doughnuts, wearing trousers and tunics compared to their finest attire.
It’s a glimpse of a world foreign to you, that under regular circumstances you would never have been able to see.
It is not Stockholm primped and fashioned for your gaze, it is simply the way that it always is. You think you like it better this way.
However, this is not the only reason that your trip to the market of Stockholm is not what you’d expected it to be. What you’d anticipated was to be constantly in fear of the lingering glances you would receive, the looming possibility of someone recognizing you. Of being ratted out to the black-clad men that might be looming somewhere within the town’s cracks and shadows.
Instead, it appears that the people of the market are almost avoiding your gaze.
Although you’ve kept the hood of Mingi’s cloak drawn up high, gaze downcast as you and San make your way through the market’s many stands, there are still the occasional accidental glimpses of eye contact. Terror rushing through you each time your gaze locks with a stranger, your chest siezes as you imagine what would happen if their face suddenly lit up with recognition.
However, this doesn’t seem to be an issue, as whenever a stranger’s eyes meet yours, they immediately look away. Not casually, gaze naturally drifting after obviously recognizing you as a stranger and nothing more, but rather a sharp glance away from your direction, as if they didn’t want to be caught staring.
It’s not until you catch a glimpse of your reflection in a shop’s window that you understand this strange phenomenon.
Stopping in your tracks, you approach the window almost cautiously, not sure if what you’re seeing is even real. Your reflection appears utterly foreign to your own eyes, and you withhold a gasp.
The burn marks cover multiple areas on your face, small but noticeable scars that span from the top of your forehead down to your chin. Rather inflamed, your skin raises at the sight of each of the wounds, burning a twisted dark red and purplish hue.
“What…” You trail off, attempting to recall what could have caused such ghastly marks, but the answer comes to your mind almost immediately.
The scorpion’s saliva. The odorous and putrid liquid that had dripped from the beast’s mouth when it hung over top of you. You faintly remember a burning sensation, although frankly, that seemed to be the least of your worries at the time.
But now, it seems that this is the damage that has made itself the most permanent, even the wounds on your arm surely have more of a chance at fully healing compared to this.
Hand drifting up to graze over the wounds, you find that they don’t hurt so badly, which you can only hope is a positive sign, although you’re not so sure.
You feel the presence of a figure settle behind you, and you hear as San awkwardly clears his throat.
“I meant to tell you earlier,” he says, voice quiet. You can faintly see his reflection through the window as well, and his expression is somber. “I just wasn’t sure how.”
You don’t say anything, because frankly, you also don’t know how to respond. Blinking at your reflection, you struggle to wrap your head around just how differentyou look. How unfamiliar the person staring back at you is.
The last few days you’ve already felt like enough of a stranger in your own skin. Through all the fear and bloodshed, the loss of everything you hold dear, you no longer felt like yourself, like the Princess of Libaiya. Reduced to a weak and terrified mess, in a far more helpless position than you have ever wished to be.
But now to see yourself, and not even physically appear to be the girl you once knew. A stranger, both in your mind and body… It’s too much, and your mind can’t seem to divulge a response. A sort of blank numbness to the sight takes over, compared to the anger or horror that seems the more appropriate response.
The lack of emotion and unfamiliarity only warranted in the presence of someone you don’t recognize, that you’ve never met. And really, isn’t that what the person staring back at you is?
“I’m sure they’ll heal,” San says, doing his best to reassure you, although you can hear the falseness in his attempt at sincerity. You don’t want to hear it. You don’t want to be here anymore, staring at this complete and utter stranger.
“Let’s just go,” you say, tearing yourself away from the window and back down the market’s path without another spare glance. You can feel as San lingers in place for a moment, but he eventually sighs, following after you.
This is a part of San you are growing fond of, can appreciate. You’re certain that Woo would simply never drop a topic that interests him, and Seonghwa - for all his kindness - would make a series of attempts to try and make you feel better.
But San does neither of these things. He drops the subject, exactly like you want him to. He doesn’t push, he doesn’t pry, he simply lets it be.
It makes you wonder what of his own feelings he is hiding, as it is often only those who have their own topics of interest they don’t want to talk about that drop such matters so easily.
“Are we going to meet back up with them?” You ask, referring to Seonghwa and Woo, who you’d left at the gate of town a few hours ago. They’d gone to search for a cheap tavern to spend the night, and surely by now they’ve found one.
“Soon,” San answers, before glancing around the market, as if looking for something. “We just have one more stop to make first.”
“Oh?” You ask, perking up in interest. You’d already stopped at endless market stands, seeming to buy a few of everything under the sun. Medical supplies, preservable food and clothing - as well as a hearty lunch for the day - the satchels you wear on your back are practically stuffed to the brim with your items of purchase.
He even bought you a pair of shoes, the boots fitting comfortable and snug against the arches of your heels, which you note have grown rather substantially in size due to your newly formed calluses. Honestly, you couldn’t care less, the simple relief of having footwear joyous enough to quell the surprise.
“And where might that be?” You ask, as San seems to settle on whatever he was searching for, beginning to head west of the market square and onto a new town road.
“A blacksmith,” he answers, as the two of you take a turn down onto a narrow alleyway. A shortcut it seems, and you’re surprised at how well the swordsman seems to know his way around this town. Libaiya would appear the far more convenient stop, being a little closer to their cabin and the ride less dangerous, but it appears that Stockholm is a place he visits often enough to know by memory.
After not responding to his statement, simply assuming that the visit will be to sharpen his sword or purchase some more arrows, he adds on: “To craft you a sword.”
Eyebrows launching upwards, you turn to face him fully at this, mouth drifting open in surprise. “Really?”
San simply shrugs, holding a level of nonchalance as he takes a left down the alleyway.
And although a burst of excitement erupts from your chest, it is quickly quelled by another, stronger feeling of uncertainty.
“Are you…” You start hesitantly, not wanting to ruin an opportunity for yourself, but also not exactly wanting to start another argument within the group. “Are you sure that Woo would be alright with that?”
San doesn’t say anything for a moment, but when he does, his tone is more firm than you would expect. “Woo says and does whatever he wants whenever he wants, he can deal with it.”
Taken aback by the aggression to the swordsman’s tone, you wonder if it may have something to do with the kiss by the fire last night. Or better, the awkward tension as a result afterwards.
Ultimately, you decide to drop it, the thick silence following the statement clearly being San’s way of having put a cork on the matter entirely.
Fortunately, the silence does not last long, as San approaches the door of the building located at the very end of the alley. A rundown little shop, with no windows and faded brick walls, a glimpse of anticipation courses through you at the thought of going inside.
Not only from the mysterious nature to the building, but also the mere thought of having a weapon of your own. A sword that you can call yours, that cannot be taken away from you so easily. A piece of your own protection, against the seemingly endless dangers that have and have yet to fall onto your path.
A glimpse of control, against what has been constant chaos.
Following San into the blacksmith’s shop, your first impression is that it is dark, the only light sources being a series of dimly lit lanterns strone about. Different types of swords and bows coat the entirety of the walls, and even a hefty mace hangs down from the ceiling.
It’s unlike any place you’ve ever been, mostly because your father thought it was rather inappropriate for a Princess to shop in her people’s stores, especially a place where weapons - and thus adjacently bad ideas - were formed.
And to his credit, perhaps there was a bit of truth to that, as when you approach the wall of longswords, these inappropriate ideas of combat certainly do enter your mind.
Bringing your hand up to take one of them off the shelf, a particularly hefty blade with a white hilt, San puts a hand out to stop you.
“Not one of these ones,” he explains when you cast him a confused glance, a slight curve to his lip in amusement. Whether at the extent of your excitement or the childish intrigue that accompanies it, you aren’t sure. “We’ll get Bin to craft you a new one.”
Before you can object, as within the entire wall of swords you’re certain at least one of them would be a good fit, San walks away from you and further into the shop.
“Bin!” He shouts, before actually walking behind the front counter, attempting again as he peeks his head into the backroom. “Bin, you there?”
“Yes, yes. I’ll be right out!” A voice calls back faintly, before a series of clanging that you assume is “Bin”dropping something in the back. However, before you have the chance to go help him, the door swings open wildly before you.
When Bin steps out, he’s covered in charcoal, the black dust all over his arms and clothing, as well as in a thick smudge across his forehead. Sweat beading down his temple, his arms - which you note are rather muscular - are glistening with this same sweat, the sleeves of his shirt drawn up as high as possible, reaching just over his biceps.
The reason for his sweltering attire is made quite clear, as you can feel the heat from the smithy’s forge wafting in even from behind the door, the faint glow of the fire visible from behind him.
The man laughs when he sees San, before pulling the swordsman into an embrace. San seems equally as thrilled to see him, hand patting against Bin’s back, smile across his lips. It’s an uncharacteristically wide smile, far different than the familiar tilt to his lips you’ve grown used to.
After a moment, they pull away, and San turns to you before motioning towards the man. “Yeji, this is Changbin, he’s an old friend of ours.”
At this, Changbin extends a hand out towards you, and it takes you a moment before you even register it as an attempt at a handshake.
An entirely foreign gesture, it’s one you’ve only seen and never actually received. Only ever having shared a bow and curtsy in greeting previously, the informality takes you aback.
For the second time today, you feel absolutely nothing like who you are, the Princess of Libaiya.
“Nice to meet you,” Changbin says kindly when you finally take his hand, offering him a smile of your own. His eyes are sweet, genuine, and for the first time in a while you feel safe in this place, the shop much less daunting than the many eyes filling the town square.
“So what brings you guys in today?” Changbin asks, gaze fluttering over to San. “It’s not quite autumn yet, I didn’t expect you for another month or so.”
“We’ve taken a little detour from our regular schedule,” San chuckles, before putting a hand on your shoulder. It’s a bit strange, as well as something he’s certainly never done before, painting an illusion of familiarity the two of you don’t truly contain. Although, funny enough, you don’t really mind the idea of a friendship with the swordsman, companionship something you’ve always held dear but limited to a select few.
And with those few gone, even if it’s not quite grounded, the thought of gaining a friend through all of this doesn’t seem so terrible.
Even if such a friendship will come crashing down once you reach your destination.
“We’re taking this one to Kuroku,” San continues, giving your shoulder a soft shake in emphasis.
“Long journey,” Changbin comments, and the swordsman nods in agreement.
“Sure is. That’s why we need you to craft her a sword, something solid that a beginner can learn to wield easily.”
You half expect the blacksmith to deny the request, to say something along the lines of how a woman should not wield a blade. That it’s inappropriate, unfeminine, and just plain dishonourable. Something you’ve heard your father, as well as plenty of other men in his court and royal guard say countless times before.
But Changbin simply smiles. “Well then you’ve come to the right place, what sort of style of blade are you thinking?”
It takes a moment spent in silence for you to realize that he’s not addressing San, but you.
Perhaps reading the situation as awkwardness and not uncertainty on your part, San clears his throat. “Well, I’ll leave you two to it. If you need me, I’ll be over by the arrows.”
“Wait-” you start, but San simply spares you a glance over his shoulder, good eye glistening with an emotion you don’t quite recognize. Not mischief exactly, but a little more timid. Pride perhaps, but that seems equally as strange.
“It’s not my sword he’s crafting,” he says plainly, before turning around fully and making his way towards the opposite end of the room.
Turning around to face Changbin once more, you find that he’s still watching you intently, awaiting your answer. Feeling utterly out of your element, you lamely point to the wall of swords you were looking at upon walking inside.
“Maybe one of those?” You offer, and instead of teasing you on your lack of specificality, the blacksmith hums in understanding.
“Your classic longsword, good choice,” he says thoughtfully, before looking you up and down, mostly likely to get an idea of what length it should be. “Any other requests design wise? Like the colour and style of the hilt?”
Your initial response is to say no, assume his own expertise would be able to come up with something far better than your lack thereof, but you hesitate for a moment.
The weight in your pocket suddenly makes itself prominent, and an idea pops into your mind. Risky, certainly, the thievery of the necklace being something you had planned to keep a secret from the three men.
But the fact of the matter remains that this journey will be both a long and dangerous one, and attempting to keep such an expensive, as well as large piece of jewelry in your pocket for the entirety of the time seems just plain foolish.
Pulling the necklace from your pocket, you hold it out to him in the flesh of your palm. “Could you embed this sapphire in the bottom of the hilt?”
Eyebrows raising slightly, Changbin reaches forward to hold the jewel in his hand, examining it closely. “That shouldn’t be too difficult,” the blacksmith mutters under his breath, before glancing back up towards you. “And what of the diamonds?”
You answer before you even really consider the words. “Keep them.”
Eyebrows now launching entirely upwards, he sputters in practical disbelief. “My dear,” he starts, granting you a look of complete and utter incredulity. “That is far too much for simply crafting a sword.”
He’s right, but carrying around a string of diamonds seems like a plea for them to either be stolen or lost. Besides, it is not your only request. “Don’t worry about it,” you start, before nodding a head towards San, who intently spins an arrow in his hands as he examines it. “You just have to promise me that you won’t mention this to him.”
Changbin’s expression furrows at this, glancing between San and the expensive necklace that sits in his palm, as if weighing his options.
After a moment, however, a small smile crosses the corner of his lips.
The blacksmith extends a hand out towards you, and this time you accept it with far less hesitancy. “You, my dear, have got yourself a deal.”
Wooyoung is tired.
He’s tired of San. He’s tired of Seonghwa. He’s tired of them being so damn clueless, helping some girl they met in the woods when it’s so painfully obvious there’s something terribly offabout you.
He doesn’t trust you, and he feels that distrust as a strange tickling that itches beneath his skin, telling him that you are nothing but a bad omen for their party. What this feeling is or where it comes from he can’t quite place, but that doesn’t change the fact that there’s a constant turn in his gut that tells him that this entire trip to Kuroku is bad news.
But his companions won’t listen to him, as at some point within the last two days, they both decided that the word of complete stranger is more valuable than his own.
Idiots, both of them.
Yet, begrudgingly, they’re also both sort of his idiots, so by default he’s the one who has to deal with the consequences of their own stupid actions.
Seonghwa in particular is making this the most difficult, as for some unknown reason, he’s decided to pine extra hard for your delivery to Kuroku.
Well, it’s not exactly a mystery, as Wooyoung thinks it’s quite obvious that Seonghwa is thinking with his heart - as well as likely his dick - rather than any form of logic.
And yet, Wooyoung is the one who’s out of line here, who isn’t being reasonable.
Frankly, it’s laughable.
“This place seems good,” Seonghwa says, motioning to the tavern standing in front of them. It’s a quaint, run-down little place, and thus a bit cheaper than the other taverns they’d visited around town. The owner was also extra kind, an older lady who’d agreed to give them a bit of a discount when they mentioned they were harbouring a Libaiyan refugee.
So, at the very least, it turns out you weren’t lying about that. Talk about the besiegement of Libaiya has been all over town, news seeming to have traveled faster than majority of the mysterious army of black-clad men that took hold of the castle, as well as murdered The King. Many Libaiyans, at least those lucky enough to have escaped the kingdom before it’s been placed under lockdown, have found themselves in Stockholm. A first stop on a journey north to safer lands, similar to the journey in which Woo has now found himself.
And yet, while your story now seems to be something far less out of the ordinary, he still can’t bring himself to let his guard down. That strange, tingling feeling that something is off about this whole ordeal still itching beneath his skin, turning within his gut.
He doesn’t trust you, and he doubts he ever will.
Wooyoung nods in agreement to Seonghwa’s statement about the tavern, and thus the blonde continues. “Should we meet back up with Yeji and San then? They’re probably still in the market square.”
He hates how Seonghwa says your name, so kind and gentle. The blonde may as well have his face turn a light pink hugh, hearts replacing where his pupils once were. Maybe start kicking his feet in the air and tracing your names together on parchment.
Wooyoung wonders if the man is aware of how disgustingly obvious he is.
Rolling his eyes, instead of answering he simply turns on his heel, back onto the street and heading towards the market square. Seonghwa trails behind him, and although he doesn’t say anything in response, he doesn’t refrain from letting out a deep, frustrated sigh at Woo’s suspense.
“Yeah,”Wooyoung thinks to himself, tired. “That’s how I feel too.”
After a few minutes walking in silence, Seonghwa suddenly puts a hand on Woo’s shoulder, close to the nape of his neck. The elemental is careful to ignore the way his heart stutters slightly at the sentiment, the way his breath catches in his throat for a moment.
Nowthat is something he won’t let his conscience touch with a ten foot pole, and he’s doing well to keep it that way.
“Hey, let’s take a look,” Seonghwa says, nodding towards the billboard of postings just outside the town’s main watering hole. It’s a place they check every time they come to Stockholm, where the villagers can make different requests for tasks they’re willing to pay for.
In the trio’s own interest, it’s sometimes used for hunting monsters, the villager’s thought of completing such dangerous bloodshed themselves far too terrifying. It’s been a few times now that they’ve killed a nasty beast, a basilisk having nestled itself in the town’s sewer system once, or the time a mimic decided to wreak havoc in the tavern’s at night.
It’s become a good way to make some extra cash, and Wooyoung’s glad that Seonghwa is able to at least keep his head clear enough to not ignore that as well.
Taking a moment to scan the billboard, it’s almost immediate how one posting in particular grabs his attention. Partially due to the fact it’s almost double the size as the rest, but mostly because beneath the large letters reading “WANTED” there is not the drawing of a monster, but of a person.
WANTED: PRINCESS OF LIBAIYA
LAST SEEN RIDING ON HORSEBACK TOWARDS STOCKHOLM
DEAD OR ALIVE
REWARD: 250,000 GOLD PIECES
Seonghwa whistles lowly, the posting clearly having caught his own attention as well. “250,000 gold pieces, that’s a fortune.”
“We could retire on that alone,” Wooyoung adds, leaning in a little closer to examine the portrait. After a moment, he rips it off the billboard, to which Seonghwa gasps in protest at the act of vandalism.
The corner of Wooyoung’s lip twitches upward, he’s so easy to rile up.
“Hey, what are you doing? Put that back!” Seonghwa rushes quietly as Wooyoung pays no mind to him, continuing his way back towards the town square.
“Relax,” Wooyoung says easily, casting a lazy glance over his shoulder at the blonde. “I just think San may want to see it, that’s all.”
And although he won’t admit it outloud, another part of him wishes that San may agree to abandon the trip to Kuroku entirely. It’s not too unfair of a statement, as if they get the money they need in a different way, then why even bother with this extraneous, risky journey anyways?
After all, she was last seen heading in the same direction they’re headed. Who knows who they might stumble into along the way, so long as he keeps an eye out.
Then things can go back to the way they were. Comfortable and predictable, just the way he likes them to be.
Maybe all Wooyoung needs to do is find the Princess of Libaiya himself.
The sketch doesn’t look like you.
That’s the first thing that enters your mind when Woo hands the piece of parchment over to San, who takes it in his hands before scanning it intently.
Casting a discreet glance over his shoulder, your heart seizes in fear at the first glance of the headline: “WANTED: PRINCESS OF LIBAIYA.”
The bodily urge to take off down the nearest street and away from the band of thieves as quickly as possible is your immediate instinct. However, after a glance down at the sketch of you below the statement, the fear dissipates as quickly as it originally arrived.
Because the sketch doesn’t look like you. It simply doesn’t, none of your features identical to your own. Eyes and nose the completely wrong size and hair not to the proper length nor texture, you aren’t even sporting the peasant’s clothes you escaped in.
None of the men seem to observe any sort of resemblance either, as San’s eyes flicker over the pamphlet lazily, no flash of any sort of connection.
“Hm, would you look at that,” San mutters, the corner of his lip pulling upward in a smirk. “Looks like someone is willing to pay a pretty penny for little Miss Princess.”
“A pretty penny doesn’t even begin to cover it,” Woo grins, taking the parchment from San’s hands and holding it up before him. “It’s a fucking fortune.”
You know they don’t recognize that the picture is of you - and you’re certain they won’t, as you wouldn’t either - but the conversation makes you nervous nonetheless. After all, listening to your guides talk about just how much money they’d make turning you into whatever bounty hunters may be after you isn’t exactly your favourite topic.
“You see this?” Woo says, and it takes you a moment to realize that he’s talking to you. Granting him a brief nod in response, he continues, tone only slightly condescending. “She’s your friend right - or sorry - yourboss?”
This seems to peak Seonghwa’s interest. “Right, you know her, don’t you Yeji?”
You hate this. You hate this. You hate this.
“Yeah, I do,” you respond, doing your best to keep your voice steady, feigning a level of disinterest.
“And?” San asks, casting you a curious glance. “What’s Miss Silverspoon like?”
Now, you aren’t a fool. You can tell that the answer to the question must be a calculated one, and it unfortunately doesn’t come easily, as you’re unsure exactly how to play this one out.
Naturally, your first instinct is to defend yourself. The men’s tones all clearly hold a level of distaste and passive aggression, and you don’t exactly wish to sully your reputation, especially considering your reputation is all you really have to hold onto.
But your instincts have always been far more emotional than logical, and logic is all you can afford.
“She’s a brat,” you answer with a shrug, and Woo actually lets out a laugh at this, a bark of surprise.
“Really?” He asks, as if almost impressed by your bluntness.
Swallowing down the bile that arises in your throat at the thought of anything you do impressing Woo, you push forward. It’s decidedly better for you not to defend her - or, well, you- so that they don’t associate these two identities together. If they think you hate the Libaiyan Princess, they are far less likely to think that she could possibly be you.
“Yeah, she is,” you continue, even adding a roll of the eyes. “She’s spoiled. Bossy, a tad arrogant.”
It almost hurts to say, considering you loved your staff, and only ever treated them with grace and kindness. But alas, desperate times.
“Not that surprising,” Woo adds, raising his hands above his head in a stretch, before letting out a yawn that he speaks his next words through. “She’s filthy rich, after all. Why care about the rest of us little folk?”
You swallow down the annoyed response that arises hot in the back of your throat. Of course you care about your people, and you certainly don’t refer to them as “little folk”.
And frankly, the blatant assumption that you ever would cause a sharp pulse of anger to course through you, fist clenching tightly at your side.
Yet, even with the moment’s fury, you won’t act on it. What your people need is for you to get to Kuroku, and you will do everything in your power to make that happen.
Whether Woo is aware of it or not, let this be your act of service to prove just how much you care for them, even if it means dragging your own name and reputation through the dirt.
“No kidding,” you say, going as far as to add a laugh of your own, even though the words taste like bile along your tongue. “It’s been a long summer, I just want to get home.”
And although you’re attempting to make a connection with him, the comment does not earn the response you were expecting.
“What, back to your mansion?” Woo interjects, tone sharp. You blink, surprised by the sudden aggression, as well as unsure of where exactly he got that idea.
But the realization comes quickly. Your family - or better, fakefamily - is also wealthy enough to pay them big. Big enough to make the journey, which means such wealth would also accompany other riches like a mansion, servant staff, fine furniture and decor, and most likely all the other luxuries he seems to resent you and the royal family for.
And while it wasn’t something you were exactly holding on to, your one chance of getting Woo to lay off of you, even if only for a moment, evaporates before your eyes.
So be it. It’s not as if you have any desire to bond with the elemental anyways.
“And why would you be pissy about that?” You ask, happy enough to let out some of your harbouring frustration towards him from the “little folk” comment. “It’s inyour best interest, or have you forgotten why you’re here?”
Woo doesn’t say much in response to this, but you don’t miss the way he not-so-subtly rolls his eyes.
“I’m sure we’re almost at the tavern,” San says, his tone exhausted, mouth drawing into a thin line. “Let’s try to keep the bickering to a minimum.”
“Please,” Seonghwa adds, casting a pointed glance in Woo’s direction. If Woo notices, he doesn’t say anything, but rather picks up his pace to walk ahead of your group.
He’s clearly pissed, and something tells you it has to do with a little more than your minor argument, although what exactly you can’t quite place.
Turning suddenly, the elemental opens the door to a quaint little building to your right, surely the tavern he and Seonghwa had discovered earlier. However, as you move to follow in after him, you are not greeted by the cozy atmosphere of a tavern, but rather the wooden door swinging back into your nose.
Did he just…?
Tears welling in your eyes from the suddenness of the blow, you take a step back, rubbing your nose bridge. Blinking rapidly as San pushes past you and into the tavern with a newfound sense of urgency, mostly likely to rip into Woo for the upteenth time.
“Are you okay?” Seonghwa asks, eyes filling with genuine concern as you pull away your hand from your nose, fingers now coated in the blood dripping from your nostril.
You simply nod in response, because really, you are okay. You’re not even angry, no longer containing the energy to chase after the elemental, give him a slap even harder than yesterday’s.
No, you aren’t angry, you’re tired.
Tired of bleeding and the constant bickering, of not being able to see yourself when you look in the mirror. Tired of constantly being on guard and afraid that someone may find out your true identity, whether it be the people of the town or your own travel party.
You’re just tired of it all.
And when you reopen the tavern door and find San angrily whispering in Woo’s direction, who appears as indifferent and disinterested as always, only one thought springs to mind:
Kuroku cannot come fast enough.
The sword is beautiful.
Twisting the weapon around in your hand, it’s cool against your skin as you gently run your fingers down the steel of the blade. The hilt covered in a white shagreen, the metal work surrounding the leather is impressive, gilded flowers and thorns spanning across the sword’s guard.
Then, at the very bottom of the hilt, your sapphire glistens, the rich blue almost glowing against the rest of the blade’s white and silver design. It’s almost art rather than a sword, as well as a piece of your old home and family nestled within the new path of life you’ve found yourself embarking on.
Changbin truly outdid himself.
If San noticed the sapphire when the two of you picked the sword back up from the blacksmith in the evening, he didn’t say anything. However, you’re certain it’s only a matter of time before one of them does, the jewel much more noticeable than you had originally expected it to be.
You aren’t sure if they’ll even recognize it, the piece of jewelry holding far more significance to yourself than any of them.
Perhaps it’s not even them noticing it that you’re worried about, but rather what the jewel represents. You’d called them thieves and criminals, yet you’re the one lying to them. You’re the one who stole the necklace back, who paid off one of their friends to keep it a secret.
Who are you to judge them?
Who are you? Because frankly, it’s becoming more and more difficult to recognize yourself, both in your reflection as well as your actions.
Tears begin to glisten in your eyes, and you suppose now is a good time to finally let them fall. After all, you’re alone. The three men are downstairs in the tavern, most likely drinking and having a good time with the rest of the people in Stockholm. Drinking and exchanging stories with people they recognize, as well as others they don’t.
You know, like normal people do. Like people who were permitted to have friends that weren’t restricted to their castle staff or people their father considered to have good political influence. Who have stories because they can actually follow what they dream of, and love people without having to keep it a secret, so less it becomes a scandal to be told all across Burovia.
You sigh, laying back on your rented bed, eyes staring at the roof above you. The self-pity makes you feel gross, even if not spoken aloud. You’re lucky to have lived in luxury, and it feels wrong to suggest anything otherwise.
And yet, a part of you can’t help but yearn. Yearn for a life where all those things could be true. Where you wouldn’t be where you are now.
Where you wouldn’t have lost so damn much.
The first tear slips from your eye when there’s a knock at the door. “It’s open,” you shout, sniffling slightly as you quickly swipe it away.
The door opens just a crack, a head of blonde hair peeking inside. “Are you busy?” Seonghwa asks, a small smile tracing his lips. Despite yourself, you can’t help but smile too.
Blinking away any remnant of remaining tears, you nod. “No, no. Come in,” you say, waving him inside.
“I figured you might want some company,” he says, softly shutting the door behind him. Raising up a bottle of whisky in his hand, he also shrugs, sounding almost shy. “I also have this. Thought it would be a little sad to drink it alone.”
You chuckle at this, and frankly, you would really appreciate a drink at the moment. Pouring a hearty serving into each of the complimentary glasses stationed on the room’s dresser, Seonghwa hands one over to you.
“Not one for the tavern scene?” You ask, before motioning for him to sit down beside you on the bed, feeling a tad awkward to keep him standing. He hesitates only for a moment, before sitting beside you, although careful to keep a respectful distance apart.
It’s a little endearing, you must admit.
“Sometimes, if I’m really in the mood for it,” he replies, gaze fluttering over to you. “But it’s always been more San and Woo’s thing than mine.”
You hum at this, taking a sip of the whisky, which burns hot on your tongue. You’ve only ever really been permitted wine before, or champagne on celebratory occasions. Your father often considered whisky to be a commoner’s drink, unless it had been aged for upmost of three decades, then he’d consider it to be a man’s drink.
“What about you?” Seonghwa asks. “Not your scene either?”
You aren’t really sure how to respond, never having been in a tavern yourself. But after a moment, you decide the truth doesn’t seem too forbidden. At least part of it, anyway.
“I’ve never been in one,” you answer, to which Seonghwa’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “My father doesn’t really approve. I guess it’s not a very proper or feminine place to him.”
His raised eyebrows quickly furrow at this, mouth drawing into a frown in offence. “Well that’s ridiculous. There’s plenty of women down there, why should that matter?”
You simply shrug in response, and he sighs, gaze falling back in front of him. “But I guess I don’t know much about the properness of it. My family was never wealthy, and those sort of societal cues weren’t really an issue back in Maralya.”
You’re surprised at him bringing up his hometown, considering that last night the mere mention of it was enough to bring tears to his eyes.
But perhaps it’s liquid courage running through his veins, and although your budding curiosity is rather tempting, you don’t want to take advantage of a loose tongue.
“We don’t have to talk about that if it makes you uncomfort-” you start, but he cuts you off, tone reassuring.
“No, no. I want to,” he says, once again turning to face you. His eyes are not full of tears this time, but compassion. “I wanted to yesterday, but it was just… a lot. I’ve had the day to sit with it now, and I feel like I should explain why it makes me so…you know.”
Troubled, your mind fills in for him. Vulnerable.
The statement is understandable, so instead of stopping him, you simply let the blonde speak.
“There was a sickness that passed through about six years ago,” he says, tone reminiscent. “Some sort of fever, and people were dying all around us. Our neighbours, our baker and letter carrier.”
You can see the tears welling in his eyes again, although that small, pained smile remains present against his lips. “Eventually my half-brother caught it, and things weren’t looking very good, so my mother sent me away. Didn’t want me to catch it too, so she just begged me to leave before I could.”
“I’m so sorry,” you say, and he just laughs softly, looking down at his feet at the end of the bed.
“It’s alright. Or well, I think it is,” he says, hand fiddling with the tail end of his jacket mindlessly. “I’m not sure if I’ve really made peace with it, I’ve just kind of had to. I don’t know if any of them are alive, but I don’t think I’m ready to go back and check. Not ready to know the answer, I guess.”
Not really sure of what to say, his words all kinds of vulnerable you aren’t prepared to grant yourself. Fortunately, you find you don’t have to give an answer at all, as he continues. Shifting himself slightly to now fully face you, the sentiment feels far more close this way, more intimate and connected.
“I’m only telling you this because I know a lot of what we do can seem wrong, especially if you didn’t grow up on the streets,” he says softly, and there’s no judgement to his words, only sincerity. “Thievery and monster hunting? It was hard for me to wrap my head around at first too.”
“How did you end up with them, anyway?” You ask, leaving out the fact that he seems so utterly different from the other two. Woo full of more outright anger and power, San a more calculated and reserved sort of dangerous. Yet Seonghwa just seems so… good.
Better than them, but also far better than you.
The question brings a smile to his lips. “They jumped me.”
“What?” You ask, alarmed. Yet, despite the absurdness of his words, Seonghwa only laughs at your shocked expression.
“It had been a month or two since I was forced to leave home,” he explains, getting a little more relaxed and comfortable as he gestures with his hands, the topic clearly less painful for him. “I’d found myself in the town of Gloria, which we’ll actually pass within the next week or so.”
“I was lost, scared, and carrying all my items in a bag on my back, just trying to find a stable I could spend the night in for free. Then suddenly, the next thing I knew I was being held up against an alleyway, where one man in a hood punched me across the face, and the other sifted through my bag.”
You involuntarily bring a hand up to cover your mouth, jaw dropped in shock. The story sounds horrific, practically traumatizing on your end, but Seonghwa delivers it in such a lighthearted manner you aren’t sure if you’re hearing him correctly.
“Once they discovered how utterly nothing of value I had, they took off their hoods. And the one who’d been punching me asked how a boy who looked so princely could be worth jack-shit.”
“Woo, I’m assuming?” You ask, and Seonghwa laughs even louder than before as he nods in confirmation.
“Anyway, I was too distraught to respond. So I was just endlessly sobbing, and I guess they both felt kind of bad, so they took me to their own place. Which was really just a tent in the woods outside of the town.”
“They gave me some of what little food they had, and eventually I calmed down enough to tell them who I was and what happened to me,” he says, pausing only for a moment to look up and meet your eyes. “And even though the
“-and I told San that wearing that would really make him look short in pictures but did he listen? no, he didn’t”
“I thought it would look cute!” defended San. Mingi just kept looking at him with a smug that he so wanted to wipe off. San’s eyes almost saying ’say one more thing, i dare you’ but in tiny.
“Atinys! Mingi’s bullying me! Tell him Tinys, I looked good right?” whined San. Immediately the chat flew like rapid wind. It was literally half - half, one sided with Mingi to tease San further and the others cooed San so he won’t pout anymore.
“I think I agree with Mingi on this one Atinys” you laughed, making San wail rather dramatically on his bed.
“you two are so mean…this is why you’re best-friends with YunGi! meanies”
“I’m just better at fashion than you” said Mingi, full of confidence. Well deserved confidence honestly. Recently, Mingi made headlines for days on end when he uploaded the series of street casual photos, wearing his grey fit. Song Mingi was born a model.
The room went silent and the 3 of you continued to read the chat, addressing the casual ’i love you’s’ and ’please say hi to_’s comments.
“Everyone, Wooyoung just texted me he’s wearing my birthday merch nightwear” spoke San, looking up from his phone into the camera, “Jung Wooyoung, are you watching me? I don’t believe you”
5 minutes later and the hotel room busted open with a screaming Wooyoung charging towards his best-friend San, a heavy pillow in hand and ready to take down what seemed to be his mortal enemy. Wooyoung striked fast and hard that he sent San flying to the side, earning a yell in return.
San of course, did not back down. He quickly grabbed whatever pillow nearby and fought back a small yet satan’s spawn Wooyoung. San’s arm workout was paying off. His ability to keep hitting with consistency was impressive.
The fight started off with declared wars between the offense and the defense, until you stepped in. You tried to come in between WooSan since they were still in the middle of doing a live stream. Alas, it was the wrong move. The two of them ganged up on you and challenged you.
“if you can bring us down…” started San
“we’ll be your slaves for a whole month” of course satan’s spawn would say that. Even San whacked his head to his left, with a look questioning ’why the hell would you bet that you idiot!’. But Wooyoung being Wooyoung, he was a cocky one. He was sure WooSan was going to win against you.
That was until you flipped your head to face him, with a psycho smile and tackled little Wooyoung to the floor, wrestling him for what seemed like forever victory. You kept punching his sides as hard as you could and sure he was fighting back, but he couldn’t help himself to a giggle fest as if he was being tickled.
“keep laughing like this you lil shit and i will make sure it’ll be your alarm tone every 5am!!” you proclaimed, fully slamming your body to him, only for him to yell,
“NEVER!!” it was a wonder how none of the next room people didn’t come to complain, “Choi San! Avenge me!!”
“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA”
“BRING IT ON SHORT MOUNTAIN!!”
—- —- —- —- —- —-
At the sound of heavy footsteps, the manager turned around and finally sighed relief seeing Yunho, “thank goodness you came Yunho-yah”
Yunho just laughed when he walked further in, taking the state of his members and you sprawled out on top of each other in rather questionable positions.
“What happened here? It looks like an exploded mine-field” he laughed, shaking his head.
“Wooyoung started a pillow fight mid live streaming out of nowhere” replied the manager. He sounded bewildered but has come to accept it.
“Of course it Wooyoung. It’s always Wooyoung” said Yunho, thinking ’not surprised’. Wooyoung has a special bond with Yunho and acted more like a little yet mischievous brother around Yunho. Sometimes he would bite people out of nowhere. Yunho thinks it’s something he learned from San - monkey see monkey do.
The tall teddy bear squated down near you and poked your cheeks trying to wake you up.
*poke* *poke* *poke*
You only returned an unconscious groan, upset that your sleep was being disturbed.
“Hey sleepyhead. Wake up, let’s go sleep in our room”
When you continued to sleep, he placed his arm around your back and under your waist to hoist you up and carry you bridal style back to your shared room. He laid you down, kissed your forehead and let sleep take over him too.
Morning came and Yunho needed you awake since he couldn’t eat breakfast by himself. He missed the morning call with the members since he was so deep in sleep as if he was the one involved in the pillow fight last night. He thought of different ways he could wake you up but settled on being sweet instead. “Hey! Wake up” whisper-yelled Yunho sounding a little mumbled since he was peppering kisses all over you. He knew he’d get in trouble for it but he didn’t care yet.
“If you don’t go and brush your teeth first, its war Jung Yunho”
All hairs on him stood up and he felt fear run through his veins at the sound of you being awake and that was the first thing you said to him.
“Ma'am yes ma'am” He was not taking risks. He knew you wouldn’t hurt him but he had enough respect to your preferences. Plus he also liked it when you were a bit bossy around him. You silently laughed. Your trick works every time.
– Bonus Epilogue –
“Guys … did Mingi just disappear into thin air?” - Atinys
Back to when the pillow fight first started. Mingi sneakily escaped the perimeters and immediately dialed for help.
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
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From: Mark wyd 10:45 AM
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From: You Having brunch with some friends. You? 10:45 AM
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From: Mark nothing 10:46 AM
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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
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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
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From: San For our wedding, I’m wearing a fun tie 11:36 AM
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From: You We will never get married. 11:37 AM
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From: San Why not? 11:37 AM
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From: You Do you really think we would ever be together? 11:38 AM
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From: San Idk. I might just make you mine. 11:38 AM
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From: You Good luck with that. 11:39 AM
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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
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From: San You think I’m romantic? 11:41 AM
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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
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From: You Don’t ever call me that again. 12:27 PM
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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
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From: San Then how are we supposed to order our suits? 12:29 PM
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From: You Just let the tailor get your measurements and you can order them later. 12:30 PM
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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
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From: San You want a pic for proof? 12:31 PM
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From: You Absolutely not. 12:32 PM
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From: San All I saw was absolutely 12:32 PM
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From: You If you send me a dick pic, your life ends tonight. 12:33 PM
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From: San Sounds kinky 12:33 PM
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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
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From: San What’s wrong? 2:06 PM
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From: You All the dresses Mina has us try on don’t look good on me. 2:06 PM
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From: San You don’t need one of those dresses to look good 2:07 PM
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From: San Or any dress for that matter 2:07 PM
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From: You How would you even know… 2:07 PM
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From: San I’ve told you I have a good imagination. 2:08 PM
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From: You Keep dreaming. 2:08 PM
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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.
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.
