— 𝑆 ⋆. . ᐟ The task your mother has bestowed upon you is simple, go on 3 dates and bring back home a well mannered gentleman, after all she complains you’ve been single for far too long and it’s about time you settle down. But in this day and age, it’s embarrassing to be attached, especially when you already have everything you possible could want in life. So you come up with a devious plan to drive these men crazy, using just the mischievous tricks you have up your sleeves
WELCOME TO THE BACHELORS : series
─── ⊹ ࣪ ˖ enha!02 x 𝖋!𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖗.
— ຟ ⋆. . ᐟ: Comedic base, Inappropriate jokes and languages used, cringey characters, over exaggeration, nepotism, rich heir, snobby characters, ragebaiting, bimbo depictions, male stereotyping, embarrasing moments, I wrote this at 2am, arranged dates, match making, usage of slut/bitch/prositute, misandry, business proposal, featuring aespa
You stare at your mother wide eyed with your knuckles balled into fist, your sharp acrylic nails digging crescents into the flesh of your palm. She sits cross legged across from you, seemingly feigning ignorance towards your distress, as she continuously sips on her steaming cappuccino.
“Mom are you crazy?” You sneer through gritted teeth, shooting sharp daggers at her relaxed figure as you sink deeper into the velvet couch.
“Do you genuinely think we’re in the 19 hundreds, where you just play Cupid or match maker like it’s going to work?”
She sets down her ceramic mug, body leaning forward as she pushed the manila files on the table towards you. “I want grandkids, and I want them now!”
Your mouth gaps open in disbelief as you scan the empty restaurant, there were only waitresses standing on the side with poised postures pretending that they weren’t eavesdropping on the conversation. Yet the minute they felt your gaze on them, their heads dropped sharply towards the ground, avoiding your silent cry of help.
“I’m not some seven year old who you can order around anymore ok, I’m independent and capable and— and I don’t need some man to come around and dictate my life!” You whined in annoyance flailing your hands around as you tried to exaggerate why you didn’t need a measly boy that would bring no benefits into your life, other than being an accessory and a liability.
You even bought up your cousin’s relationship as an example, talking about how her long term boyfriend aka soon to be fiancé cheated on her with her best friend weeks before the wedding, stating that men were despicable creatures who pounced on anything if it meant they could gain the opportunity of getting their dicks wet.
Furthermore, you also talked about how your roommate in university contracted STDS from her frat boyfriend, who claimed that she was his first everything, supporting your claim of men being cunning.
Or that time when your bestfriend, Giselle told you her 3 years long boyfriend came out to her as gay, after she caught him making out with her uncle at her family’s yearly Christmas dinner.
Your mother merely pursed her lips, offering nothing more than a helpless shrug, as though this was simply the way life worked, just unfair, merciless and entirely beyond anyone’s control.
She folded her arms across her chest and leaned back against the chair with an almost unsettling calmness, her expression unreadable.
For a brief, fragile moment, silence was the only thing that settled between the two of you.
Then she spoke.
The words left her mouth with terrifying ease, devoid of hesitation, like a threat tied with a pink ribbon.
Each syllable landing like a hammer against your chest.
In an instant, it felt as though the ground had been ripped out from beneath your feet. The air suddenly too thin to breathe and your thoughts splintered into a thousand jagged pieces.
Your world, so carefully held together moments ago, came crashing down all at once.
Even the waitresses came to an abrupt halt mid step.
One stood frozen with a tray balanced perfectly in one hand. Another had her pen hovering over a notepad, halfway through taking an order. A third slowly turned her head toward your table, eyes widening with the unmistakable expression of someone witnessing a once in a lifetime disaster unfold in real time.
One of them even subtly traced the sign of the cross over her chest before quickly pretending to wipe down an already spotless table.
May God be with you.
“If you don’t go on the dates—
I’m freezing your credit card.”
RESEARCH #1: Men hate gold diggers.
This research is backed by none other than, Ningning, herself. The biggest man eater alive, her evidence being that she went on a date with a guy to Nobu, and he sneered at her stating that she was only with him because he was driving a Mercedes after she simply asked where he worked.
He then proceeded to insult her for being poor, with his observations being based on her dirty shoes that had holes on the side and her ripped grey oversized shirt, saying that she was purposely trying to wring him dry of his money.
Best believe she jumped out of her seat and gave that man a harsh slap to the cheek, so hard that her palm print was basically imprinted onto his face.
Though it serves her right, for choosing to wear Balenciaga on the first date!
You’ve already studied the subject beforehand, and to your surprise he’s actually quite a big name in the real estate industry.
Heir to one of the wealthiest businessman in the world, even featuring on Forbe’s list. This guy falls perfectly into the mould of a snobbish chaebol, who has probably had his fair share of encountering women who pretentiously fall into his lap in exchange for a few Chanel bags.
His Instagram is filled with curated post of yachts, company dinners, and numerous private jet flights to islands that could be used in spelling bee contests because of their extravagant names.
Everything about him seemed organised, and he was the epitome of opulence.
And so you emulate.
Because the goal here, is to look like you’re feigning wealth, when in reality everything looks like they were picked up from a second hand corner store.
You style your hair into dramatic curls, the main inspiration being sideshow bob from the Simpson, as you over line your lips dramatically depicting a failed Kylie Jenner cosplay.
Your dress is a borrowed tube from Karina’s closet, and it’s one that looks like it could be found in the clearance section at the downtown thrift store, especially with its ugly design of the Versace logo plastered all over it, making it look faker than any chin tuck.
When you slip into the chair across from your date, you make sure to aggressively plant the fake pink Louis Vuitton bag on the table, one that you and Giselle went to get from a flea market a few days before, laughing at the poor stitching and colour difference.
You watch in silent satisfaction as he raises an eyebrow at your appearance, before letting out a cough to mask his discomfort.
He stands from his seat, extending a hand to you for a handshake, to which you blatantly ignore as you pretend to look at your nails.
He’s dumbfounded, and definitely taken aback by your rudeness, so he slowly sinks back into his chair. “My name’s Jay, nice to meet y—“
“Yeah yeah, names Yn, so what’s your annual salary?” You cut him off, staring straight into his eyes, poor guy has his head tilted in confusion, mouth open as he figures out how to reply you.
“I mean, as you can tell from my bag and clothes, I’m high maintenance so obviously I need a real man to provide,” you spurt out shamelessly as you continued to pick at your fresh manicure.
Jay’s eyes scruntise you from head to toe, to the bag on the table, one that he can obviously tell is fake. The stitching is uneven, the leather has an unnatural sheen and the flap is a noticeably different shade from the rest of the bag. Moreover the logo isn’t quite centered either, a detail that practically screams counterfeit.
He squints at you almost as if trying to see if you’re playing some kind of sick joke on him. Thinking if this is an elaborate social experiment or prank, or if you’ve geniunely somehow managed to walk out of the house this morning completely convinced the bag had fooled anyone.
His hands adjust the tie fastened around his collar, as he leans back, “While I run my own company,” you start to play along feigning interest as your eyes perk up.
“The annual profits range from a million to billions depending on trade and network shares.”
Bingo!
Your entire demeanor does a complete one eighty, like that one Dua lipa song.
The disinterested expression you previously had vanishes as though someone had flipped a switch. Suddenly, you’re staring at him with exaggerated fascination, eyes widening theatrically as you bat your outrageously fake eyelashes depicting a malfunctioning windshield wiper.
“Oh… really?” you drawl, as if the mention of profits has single handedly altered the trajectory of your life.
Leaning forward, you rest your elbows on the table, deliberately pushing yourself closer while propping your chin in your hands. Your lips purse into what you think is a seductive pout.
In reality?
You look like you’re aggressively trying to win first place in a duck face competition.
The performance is so painfully over the top that even the waiter passing by slows down for half a second, silently wondering whether he should intervene or simply pretend none of this is happening.
Across from you, Jay doesn’t react. He just stares, then blinks once.
The look on his face suggests he’s mentally drafting an email to his father demanding financial compensation for emotional distress.
You try your hardest to stifle a laugh at your victory, feeling a smirk inching its way to the corner of your lips.
He only let’s out a deep sigh before he snaps his head away from you, fingers raised in the air to signal the waiter over.
As the waiter steps over, menu in hand and notepad in the other, you rush to stand, hands stretched out cutting them off in second.
“How can I hel-“
“I’ll do it!” You excitedly said, practically snatching the menu away from their embrace, as you sat down fingers rubbing against as your chin as if you were contemplating.
Jay watches this ordeal with a snarl plastered on his face, silently shooting curses at you while you sit hunched over the paper shamelessly ordering practically everything on it.
You purposely butcher all the pronunciation of the most exquisite dishes, pointing your fingers over the menu from caviar, steaks, haute chocolate cakes, foie gras. Jay only stays quiet as his fingers pinch his glabella trying to lessen the migraine that you have caused.
“You’re paying right?” You ask brazenly as the waiter walks away, puckering your lips at Jay with such sweetness that it made you want to puke inside.
He’s is clearly morbidly fascinated by your audacity, but chooses to mask it behind his poker face, as he just sends you a silent nod.
“Well I hope you just understand that I like nice things,” You explain pointing towards your bag, “eleven million won, limited edition collection from LV, so obviously I need a man to provide for me because I know what I bring to the table!”
He snaps his head up, muttering out, “So what exactly… do you bring to the table?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” You gesture to yourself.
For the third time tonight, Jay finds himself speechless, as he just purses his lip tightly, looking at you as if you were an alien that had somehow crawled its way onto earth.
YOU 1 : 0 MEN
RESEARCH #2: Smart men hate bimbos.
“No way your next date is Sunghoon,” Winter mutters out with a horrified expression on her face as she plays with her corgi on the carpeted floor, rubbing the dog’s belly as drool spilled over from its mouth.
“Didn’t he score full marks on the CSAT and went to go do his undergraduate at Harvard?” Giselle asked as she walked into the room, hands full of snacks that she had just stolen from Winter’s kitchen pantry.
Winter nodded, before Ningning said something.
“I mean… smart guys hate dumb girls, right?”
“If he thinks you’re an airhead, he’ll totally lose interest immediately.”
Across the room, Ningning had looked up from the Nintendo Switch balanced on her lap, where she’d been recreating both Winter and Karina in Tomodachi Life.
You suddenly sat straight up from the bean sack you were laying on, pointing your fingers eagerly in her direction, a bright lightbulb appeared in your head bestowing you with a genius idea.
And with the courtesy of Karina’s connection, the five of you guys were able to infiltrate into his private Instagram account that just consisted of professionally taken pictures of graduate ceremony and court cases.
As well as the embedded link in his bio, that led to the official website of the prestigious law firm his grandfather founded, where he was working as a senior counsel at just 23. Talk about tryhard.
This time when you walked into the private dining room of the restaurant, you made sure to wear a pink off shoulder cardigan paired with the shortest denim skirt you could find in your closet. And with the kind help of Winter’s enthusiastic styling skills, your hair had been neatly braided into two pigtails.
Sunghoon sat uninterested at the table in the Center of the room, staring as you walked in, scrunching up his face at your choice of style.
He’s a stoic guy with no interest for romance, hearsay that he might even struggles with erectile dysfunction or swing the other way, purely because it’s rare to see Sunghoon tangled up with a woman.
Truthfully the only reason he’s sitting across from you is because his father made it abundantly clear that this wasn’t a request and it was an ultimatum. Show up to the date, or pack up his desk and kiss his position at the family firm goodbye.
“Oh my gosh, you must be Sunghoon!” You greet him in the highest pitch you can let out, before absolutely tripping over nothing, purposely knocking over the glass of water on the table onto his crisp white button up shirt.
Ice cubes clatter across the tabletop as freezing water surges over the edge, spilling into Sunghoon’s lap before cascading onto the polished floor. He instinctively sucks in a sharp breath, immediately pushing his chair back as the icy water drenches the front of his white buttoned up.
Within seconds, the fabric clung to him, soaked through completely. The outline of his broad shoulders and toned physique becomes unmistakably visible beneath the damp material.
You let out a gasp feigning surprise as you drop onto your knees, fingers fumbling for the napkin on the table, as you hurriedly dab it onto his chest.
"I’m so so so so sorry,” you start to profusely apologise as you continued dragging the napkin over his chest. His fingers curl around your wrist, halting you mid action.
He sucks in a breath, before dragging you up from the floor, “Just— just take a sit.”
"I'm truly sorry. I just get so anxious whenever I meet new people, and it makes me all jittery.” You ramble on, hands flailing around as you exaggerated your words.
“I just get so nervous that I get butterfingers and then I do stupid stuff and then— and—" You stop mid sentence taking in a breath.
“Sorry, I just do this when I’m nervous, I just— talk and talk—“
"Got it." He stops you off mid sentence, reaching out for another glass of water on the table. "You're nervous."
You let out a small giggle, fidgeting with your fingers in your lap as you pretend to look helpless. “You’re just so scary and intimating you know, everybody paints you out as this ice prince incapable of emotions!”
You scratch your head, forming your lips into a cute pout as you continue on, “But I mean I’m sure those horror stories of you being a brutal lawyer are all just exaggeration right? I’m sure you’re really soft and caring underneath.“
“Some even have the audacity to say you might struggle with down ther—“ you continue on finger pointing towards your own abdomen, trying to insinuate something.
"Are you done?" He finally snaps, his eyes shooting daggers into your figure as he places down his glass.
“No— I mean yes?” You bury your face into your hands, letting out a long sigh as you slump forward onto the table, trying to make yourself seem pitiful. “I’m just so bad at this, I can’t even go anywhere without my butler guiding me, I don’t know why my parents made me do this.”
Sunghoon’s expression slowly crumples into utter disbelief. Another longgg exhausted sigh escapes him as he pinches the bridge of his nose, his eyes fluttering shut for a brief moment. Fingers drifting to his temples, rubbing slow circles as though pressure itself might soothe the migraine rapidly forming behind his eyes.
He silently repeats the same mantra over and over in his head like some Shaolin monk, clinging to the last thread of self restraint keeping him glued to his seat. Because every instinct was already screaming at him to stand up and walk straight out the restaurant doors, pretending this date had never happened
YOU 2 : 0 MEN
RESEARCH #3: Men hate bitches.
According to Karina, this third subject is the epitome of an angel that has been dropped by the heavens onto earth, quoting that he’s the dream man every mother would want their own daughters to marry, and every men sought to be.
Karina says he spends his weekends travelling to take care of stray dogs and build shelters for them, and spending his weekdays dutifully running his parents hospital.
Though in your eyes he’s just another obstacle that you have to spend another Saturday wasting on.
“Well if he’s so nice and a model citizen, why not you just be the rebellious douche?” Giselle said yawning as she plays with the purple needoh that Ningning stole from some poor kid.
You leaned back onto the backrest of Karina’s bed, stretching your hands above your head, “Like what?”
“Like a walking hazard threatening to set the next person who ask you to cover up on fire!” Ningning says in a ‘duh’ tone, trudging into the room with a blonde Afro wig that looks like it was stolen by a circus this time.
Jake’s Instagram is pristine, fillled with pictures of him and his dog, families, friends, famous landmarks from different travel lodge, he’s basically the aesthetic of the perfect boy next door.
And so with unwavering determination and adrenaline fuelled by too many red bulls, you meticulously piece together what you would proudly consider a foolproof plan.
One guaranteed to shatter every expectation Jake has for this date.
You were going to show up dressed in an outfit that looked less like something you’d wear to dinner and more like something ripped straight out of a clearance bin “prostitute” Halloween costume.
Black lace tank top so tight your tits are about to spill out showing your cleavage on full display, it left so little to the imagination that even you had to do a double take in the mirror. The slit black mini skirt was questionably short and your the heels were criminally high.
Your lips are coated in a dark maroon shade of red that screams man eater, and a Smokey eye that Ningning herself drew for you, quoting that not even Kim Kardashain could compete.
Your motto this time is simple, be a total bitch.
If Jake thought tonight was going to be some picture perfect, romantic evening, he was about to have those expectations obliterated before the appetizers even arrived.
The soft clicking of your heels echoed across the polished marble floor, each step announcing your arrival long before you reached the table. You sauntered through the restaurant with utmost confidence, hips swaying in rhythm left right.
Jake looked up at the sound, already seated with one arm resting against the chair, dressed in a fitted navy zip up layered over a crisp white tee and tailored black slacks. Total finance bro.
You place the vape, that Ningning stole from another elementary kid, onto the table. Making his eyes instantly drop onto the object before masking his surprised expression with a courteous smile, with one hand rubbing his nape.
“Hello, I’m Jake, nice to meet you.” He greets you, eyes darting around trying to avoid blatantly staring at your cleavage that is in full on display.
You completely ignore him, obnoxiously chewing on the gum in your mouth, making sure to smack your lips so loudly it could drive a sane men haywire.
Jake lets out a cough at your actions trying to hide his distaste behind his crescent shaped eyes and curved lips, turning awkwardly away to scan the empty restaurant that had been booked specifically for this date, not knowing what to do.
You just blow a small bubble right in his face, before fishing out your phone from your YSL purse, scrolling through Instagram reels and blasting the volume on full as you exaggerate your fake giggles.
Though Jake could see your screen through the reflections in your eyes, and he was dumbfounded at how you found cooking recipes humorous, but he’s not one to judge.
“So uhm, what do you usually like to do on your weekends?” He clears his throat meekly asking as he adjusted his posture to straighten his back, eyes darting anywhere but at your very scandalous outfit.
You close your phone, slamming it onto the table, before clicking your tongue in annoyance.
“Do you ever just shut up?” You mutter, snapping your head up to look at him never once breaking eye contact. Your glare is so utterly merciless, it feels like it’s drilling straight through him.
Jake’s entire body locks up as his confidence evaporates on the spot, legs turning to jelly beneath him. Had he not already been sitting down, he was certain he would’ve crumpled to the floor without a shred of dignity by your sheer audacity.
His face is instantly washed over with a terrified expression, eyebrows knitting together so tightly they nearly touch while his lips pull into a disbelieving frown. For what feels like the first time in his life, he’s rendered completely speechless.
Jake’s brain short circuits, somehow instead of forming coherent thoughts, it instinctively begins reciting every bible verse and prayer he’s ever memorised, silently begging for divine intervention to descend from the heavens and teleport him out of this situation.
Though his eyes are still stuck on the top of your scalp.
YOU 3 : 0 MEN
RESULTS #4: Sometimes faith is cruel?
“Can’t believe you did all of that, hope they don’t file a restraining order against you babe!” Giselle laughs out, clutching her stomach.
You only laid sideways on the velvet sofa, physically and mentally exhausted by everything that has happened in the past week whining weakly, “I desperately need an ice cold tea, and 50 thousand to splurge at the mall, life is just too cruel.”
The five of you had somehow, against all odds, managed to invade Winter’s house yet again. At this point, nobody even bothered asking for permission anymore as it had unofficially become the group’s second home. Shoes were kicked off by the entrance, half empty drink cans littered the coffee table and the living room was filled with overlapping conversations.
Ningning had completely occupied one corner of the room, absentmindedly poking through Winter’s evergrowing slime collection with the fascination of a child. Every few seconds she’d stretch one out dramatically before letting it snap back into her hands, proudly showing off the oddly satisfying textures to absolutely nobody.
Meanwhile, Karina had somehow made herself comfortable on the floor beside Winter’s fluffy corgi, who was sprawled out on its back in complete bliss.
“Who’s the cutest baby?” she cooed, scratching its stomach until its tiny back leg began kicking uncontrollably. The dog looked seconds away from falling asleep from all the attention.
Giselle lounged across the other sofa with the television running in the background, lazily catching a grape that Winter tossed in her direction. “Seriously?” she laughed after nearly missing it.
Winter only grinned, carrying over the bowl of grapes before dropping onto the carpet. “At least you don’t have to constantly play dress up anymore,” she teased, nudging your leg with her shoulder. “I swear, every time we hung out before, someone wanted to experiment on you with a new outfit.”
“You mean Ms Ningning right?” Upon hearing her own name, Ningning snapped her head up so fast it looked like she might’ve gotten whiplash, lips pouting as if she had just gotten framed for another crime.
You let out a quiet laugh, rolling onto your back, your legs lazily swinging over the edge as you unlocked your phone. Your thumb mindlessly flicked through post after post of vacation photos, memes, concert clips, friends complaining about work. The chatter around you slowly melted into background noise.
Then— a notification slid across the top of your screen.
Your thumb froze.
The smile faded from your face almost instantly as your stomach tightened into a knot. It felt as though all the warmth in the room had been sucked away in a single heartbeat.
You felt the familiar sickening feeling of your heart dropping straight into your stomach.
Three messages all came at once, coincidentally at the same time as well, all by the three people you were praying never to hear from again.
Jay Park: Hey, it was really nice meeting you, up for second round?
Park Sunghoon: I want to take you out for a second date.
Jake Sim: Are you free sometime next week for coffee?
“What…the…?” You stuttered out before letting out a horrified scream at the top of your lungs dropping your phone onto the duvet and ruffling your hairs in panic, making the four other girls snap their heads towards you in concern.
