♥︎ The Way I Am ♥︎
♥︎ Pairing ♥︎ fiance!seonghwa x gn!makeup artist!reader
♥︎ Genre ♥︎ fluff/angst
♥︎ Summary ♥︎ Your fiance's been successfully keeping his love of makeup hidden from you. That is until you come home early from a trip and find him using your things. Your reaction is (of course ♥︎) the exact opposite of what he feared.
♥︎ Word Count ♥︎ 1.6kish
♥︎ Warnings ♥︎ Hwa does express his worries about being vulnerable with his identity so if that's sensitive to you that's super important to note. Other than that, nothing. Just fluff and reassurance ♥︎
♥︎ A/N ♥︎ I hope that if you're reading this and you feel nervous about expressing your gender identity out of fear that people won't accept you, you know that you're totally worthy of love and acceptance no matter what. Love you ♥︎
"'Cause I love you more than I could ever promise and you take me the way I am" - Ingrid Michaelson (The Way I Am)
Seonghwa hopes that you don’t notice. A few drops of foundation here. A swipe or two of eyeliner there. Maybe some lipstick or blush if he’s feeling adventurous. He wishes he had the courage to ask you to do this for him. You’re the most talented makeup artist he’s ever met. Watching you work is like art. How wonderful it’d be to bare the most vulnerable part of himself to you. To be your lover and your canvas. But every time he tries to open up the fear creeps in and the words won’t come out.
So this is the way it is—the way it’ll always have to be. Your wedding’s less than a month away and the thought that he might lose you makes his soul ache. He can’t risk losing you. He won’t risk losing you.
Tonight he’s raided your makeup supplies for everything necessary to create the soft, romantic look of his dreams. With the warm air of a summer night blowing through the bedroom window and Spotify’s best Taylor Swift mix blasting in his over-ear headphones, the vibe couldn't be more perfect.
He’s been like this for at least an hour, seated at your vanity trying to get his foundation to match. You have every shade imaginable but none are what he wants. And mixing them? Well—
“Fuck” Seonghwa huffs, staring at his reflection, frustration and two pale layers of foundation painted all over his face. He scans the meticulously organized desk for the makeup wipes and gets to work cleaning it off. It takes everything in him not to throw something but he manages to suppress his violent urges long enough to pick up a brush again.
Thank god he has all night to do this. You won’t be home from your trip until tomorrow afternoon. By then he’ll have put everything back in its place and you’ll never know a thing. At least that’s the way things were meant to go but the unexpected glimmer of your reflection lingering by the bedroom door destroys that in an instant.
You thought it’d be sweet to surprise Seonghwa by coming home early. The event you were hired for had been canceled and you always missed each other so much. You figured it only made sense to come back home. You even stopped at his favorite takeout spot on the way from the airport to pick up dinner.
No one’s ever come close to treating you with as much love and care as Seonghwa has. Everything he does makes you feel warm and fuzzy inside. Just glancing down at the sparkly ring on your finger is enough to make your face light up. Any chance you have to make him feel the same way isn’t one you’re willing to pass up.
But, for the first time since you met, his face doesn’t light up at the sight of you. It darkens as if the world has ended and you can’t help but feel like you’re the one who ended it.
“Hwa—” you sigh softly, approaching the vanity where he sits nearly catatonic. Tears collect in the corner of his deep brown eyes, his fingers beginning to shake around the makeup brush. “It’s okay” you promise, gently resting a hand on his shoulder. Seonghwa pulls away from you, tearing the headphones off of his head. His dark hair hangs in his face giving him a safe place to hide from the disappointment he knows is waiting for him if he dares meet your gaze.
Only there isn’t any...
This isn’t what you expected to come home to but it’s far from a surprise for you. One of the things you always loved about Seonghwa was how comfortable he seemed to be in his own skin. While other guys saw every little thing as a threat to their masculinity, he treated femininity as something beautiful. You can’t even count the amount of times you’ve wanted to do his makeup. Those eyes. Those lips. That killer bone structure. He’s perfect for that kind of thing. You wish now more than ever that you’d said something.
“I’m really sorry. I didn’t—I’m just—I’m so sorry” he mumbles, choking back tears. You outstretch your arms to wrap him in a hug but he slips away again, rushing to the closet to grab his gym bag. “Hwa, what are you doing? Can you stop for a second? Please?” you beg, following him around the room as he blindly tosses things into the bag.
You’ve never felt more invisible. Your words fall on deaf ears and each time you reach out to touch him he recoils. Seonghwa grabs his phone from the dresser, snatching free of the grip you have on the sleeve of his shirt. This is his worst nightmare. In the blink of an eye he lost everything, he’s convinced of that. He doesn’t know what to say or what to do. All he can think to do is run.
“You can’t do this!” you shout, trailing him down the hallway, “You have to talk to me!”
Seonghwa breathes in, beyond pissed off at the few tears that manage to escape. “I have to leave. I have to—to protect you.”
Hearing the pain in his voice, you nearly trip on your luggage to throw yourself in front of the door. “Is it to protect me? Or to protect yourself?”
That stops him in his tracks, his foot already halfway into a pair of sneakers. Who’s he running away for really? It’s a question that only makes the pounding in his head worse. He knows that you love him. You tell him every morning, even when you’re apart, how special he is to you. You’re begging him to stay but he can’t. He can’t. Why can’t he?
“Move please” he asks, his hand tight around the doorknob.
You fold your arms across your chest, back pressed to the door, “No.”
“Move…please” his voice is deeper this time, the request sounding more like a demand.
Slipping your hands beneath the curtain of jade hair, you rest them on cheeks that burn hot enough to heat your palms. Your fingers are stained with tears and what makeup remains on his cheeks. “I love you so much” you whisper, refusing to let him get away this time, “I need you to look at me.”
You hold your breath in the silence that follows, exhaling only when his mascara smeared eyes meet yours. “I. Love. You. So. Much” you say but slower this time, putting emphasis on every word. Your heart breaks for him, for how terrified you can tell he’s been of this happening.
You raise one of your hands to show him the makeup covering it. “I don’t care about this, Hwa. I care about you.” The faint smile on your face speaks of comfort, a truly safe place for him to be if he wants it. His hand falls away from the doorknob as he lets the gym bag hit the floor with a thud.
“I would’ve told you before but I…” he pauses to summon the courage to go on, “I was afraid you wouldn’t want me anymore.” You let out a sigh of relief at the sensation of his arms easing around your waist. He holds you so tightly that you’d swear you were the one trying to run away.
“Oh, my love. I wish you could meet yourself so you’d know how amazing you are” you sniffle, only now noticing the trickling of your own tears. “I want to be with you—all of you—whatever that looks like.”
Seonghwa uses his hands to wipe away your tears, leaving them tinted in the light makeup you threw on before your flight. “And see, we’re twins now” you giggle, desperate to lighten the mood. Seonghwa stares at you longingly, the light gradually reigniting behind his eyes. “I love you too” he smiles, his lips brushing yours, “So much.”
He kisses you in the most innocent way and it’s like your first kiss all over again. Packed with nerves and excitement that melt away the longer you linger here. It’ll take some time to fade—the fear of being vulnerable—but it will fade and you’ll be there for it all.
“Will you help me fix it?” he asks, nervously fidgeting with the waist of your paints, “You don’t have to but I have a picture on my phone and—” You cover his mouth with your hand before he can say anything more, “Of course I’ll help you. Shower first though?” Seonghwa suddenly becomes hyper aware of the slight mess on his hands—in his hair—on both of your clothes. “I’d really like that.”
Kissing him on the forehead, you push his hair back to get a good look at him, “We’re doing dreamy summer vibes? Something soft?”
“How’d you know that?”
“I don’t know” you shrug, “Maybe I’m just that good. You were also going super hard on the Taylor Swift so I kinda assumed. Just blasting. I didn’t know it was that real for you.”
“Shut up” he laughs, squeezing you so tight you can’t breathe.
“Okay, okay. I’m sorry!” you giggle, trying to get away. But he won’t let you. Instead he lays his head on your shoulder, willing to tolerate being a total mess for a bit longer if it means holding you. The way that things have been...it doesn’t have to be like that now.
And it never will be again.
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"I didn’t know whether to laugh or scream."
Siege and Storm- Chapter 15
Oh nein! Mal has issues! With consequences of his actions he should be grateful for, and his girl not sharing every waking thought with him, when her worst worries spring from his most hated topics- the Darkling and her role in politics.
And Alina once again feels responsible for his feelings.
Yeah, this would have a bit more weight, if Alina didn't do it only for appearances' sake. Or if she granted the position due to merit, not random pick of what she views as the lowest low. Or if she didn't continue speaking as if she were a narrator of wildlife documentary, describing a new species of animal that just appeared.
Not necessarily, but it's one of Alina's less far-fetched deductions.
Aleksander could've been aware of David's fascination with Morozova's work. He could've picked the most skilled in bonework or the one most experienced in forging amplifiers- they're supposed to be rare, so not many Fabricators will have that.
*mumbles* And somehow we're to believe this pragmatic man chose to follow Alina, because... ? She's the good one, or whatever?!
*chants* Double agent Kaminsky, double agent Kaminsky!
Alina: Why would you want to kill this man! How horrible! At least question him first!
She would make a delightful morally flexible character, if she were acknowledged as such, and embracing that quality.
Says who? Zoya?
He KeEpS mE So BuSy!
Saints, Alina, you can't believe everything people say about themselves!
Alina: I'm not sure my three months of training are enough, but I can do like two things with my powers, so let's focus on increasing them further AND on the mythical forbidden art that created my goal no. 1 in the first place. I bet nothing can go wrong...
Only signing? Not reading to get into picture? And who prepares them?!
Bureaucracy, baby!
Welcome to responsibility!
I would sympathize with Alina much more, if she showed genuine interest in those she doesn't know. If her motivation weren't merely "Do the opposite of (what I think) the Darkling did". I she truly believed in her own philosophy.
Shocking!
People forced to sit next to half-strangers they're not used to interact with, create unpleasant atmosphere!
My work experience considered- you're lucky there's no visible enmity- you could've made the wrong people sit next to each other and tableware could've ended up in wrong bodyparts.
Also: How is Nadia sitting next to Marie? I thought breaking up already existing friend groups was a point of this whole exercise.
They're not gifts, Nikolai. They're just your father's property, but let's remember the Darkling didn't wait for the Queen to request a specific one's service, and turned it into a gesture of his own thoughtfulness. Fuck his strategems!
Alina's misplaced sensibilities are incredibly frustrating.
She wants to lead Second Army, but not order them, not assign them tasks directly, because that would somehow make her a bad person, instead of efficient leader.
What if no one will volunteer? What if weak, incompetent Squallers will? You don't look at special assignment and think- Yeah, whoever wants to do it... You PICK the most capable person with both sufficient skills AND suitable personality.
Awwww!
Poor granny deserves an Oscar!
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[BAD DECISION #2] Park Jimin
warnings: alcohol, clubbing, smut, spanking, protected sex, taken from behind, desk sex, reader is bratty, jimin enjoys it, reader doesn’t finish :(
soundtrack: streets - doja cat, babydoll - ari abdul, sex money feelings die (slowed ver) - lykke li
wc: 3.2k
bd total wc: 540k (on-going)
minors dni | AO3 | series masterlist
You're three Purple Starfuckers deep when Park Jimin first catches your eye. You don't mean to stare, it's just that the way he moves is unlike anything you've ever seen before. There's a sensuality to his hips, a charm to his lips and - fuck it - maybe you do mean to stare. Maybe you want him looking at you too. Assessing. Undressing.
He's in all black. Black slacks, black shirt, black liquid in his cup. No idea what he's drinking, but you're wasted and think you'd quite like to taste it, too.
The thing about Park Jimin is that he's an absolute tool.
He knows he's hot. Knows when people are staring. Knows what to do, when to smile, how to glance over, look in your direction. Look you up. Look you down. Look away. Bite his lip. Returns his gaze. Focus 1...2...3. Look away.
It's a fine art. He mastered it young, and has been using it ever since. Can bed whoever he wants, whenever he wants.
And right now? He wants you.
You're ignorant to the rest of the club as he makes his way towards you. You're hot and clammy, skin a little sticky from sweat and spilt drinks. He doesn't mind. Finds it kind of hot. Likes to imagine that's what you'll look like in his bed too.
There's no real formal introduction - why would there be? He's not after your number; just wants to add to it.
Somewhere between the shitty base and the pressure of his lips on yours, he asks if you want to get out of Dionysus. Says he could do with some fresh air.
Jeongguk doesn't see you leave. A few hours later, he'll watch as Hoseok and Danbi dance around like lunatics to the final song of the evening, but they'll be missing their very own disco ball. It will be a shame, but Jeongguk will chalk it up to nothing of any significance. Will hope you got home safely.
The ride back to Jimin's is quiet.
His hand is on your thigh, and you're thankful to not be kissing him anymore. It's not that you didn't enjoy it - you just find kissing so... personal. So intimate. Fucking? Whatever. No big deal. But kissing? Something about it just puts you on edge.
It also does edge you slightly, but he'll reap that reward later.
"My room's at the far end," he says as he guides you into his apartment. It's dark, and he doesn't bother turning the lights on. No point. "I'm just gonna freshen up quickly. Meet you in there?"
You smile. Say yes. Are pleasantly surprised by a guy who -for once- seems to know he should really wash his hands before getting intimate with a woman. Perhaps you should do the same, but you don't really plan on getting that well acquainted with him.
It's no secret that this is just a hookup. A one-night thing. A craving settler. Frustration reliever.
His bedroom, disappointingly, is as you expect. A little bland, a little minimal. It doesn't excude the same sensuality that he does, but you're sure that when he returns, he'll have enough of that to fill the entire room.
There's a double bed in the centre of the back wall, and by the window, there's a desk. Not much on it. A laptop stand - the laptop of which is on his bed - and some pots full of pens. Books, too. Interior Design Anthologies by the looks of things - which is ironic, given how boring his room is.
You don't waver when you hear the click of Jimin's bedroom door. You smile, back turned to him, toying with the pens on his desk. His blinds are open, moonlight silhouetting you. The glow of silver satin makes you look ehteral; other wordly. If he wasn't tipsy, he'd admire it. Admire you.
Jimin's silent as he walks to meet you, the tips of his fingers sinking onto the satin above the flesh of your hips. The rigid metal of his rings against the smooth material of your dress is lethal. Has you thinking of all the little deaths you'd like to have.
He doesn't pull you back towards him. Instead, he draws himself closer to you, until his crotch rests against your ass. It's his belt buckle you feel first. His hardening cock, second.
Lips tender and plump, they trail down your neck, leaving a trail of his saliva. The cool air hits against it, the sensation giving you goosebumps - or maybe it's just him. You find yourself gasping, leaning into his touch.
You ignore him - or at least you try to - still tinkering with things on his desk. Disinterest turns him on a little. You're playing him well. Getting him right where you want him.
When he reaches your ear, his teeth graze against your lobe. "Stop playing with my pens, gorgeous. Need them for work."
You smile, wrapping your fingers around one of them. It's a fineliner, 0.3 nib. Nothing remarkable. You have the same brand in the art cafe you work at. His hand immediately reaches for it. Wraps around yours.
"Uh-uh," he hums. Removes the pen from you grasp and puts it back in it's holder. "That's my favourite. Can't lose it."
There's a pout on your lips. A soft moan escapes. Pretty, he thinks. "I like having my hands full."
Jimin's teeth graze your neck. Bite down. He sucks gently as a kiss is pressed to your skin. He's leaving a mark, and both of you damn well know it.
His hips push against your ass. You're trapped between him and the desk, his bulge undeniable. Has you wanting to bend over. You half think you might.
And then he whispers in your ear, "I think I have something you can fill them with instead."
He feels your ass move against him, the satin of your dress riding up ever so slightly. The hand of his that had put the pen back finds a new home: the top of your thigh beneath your dress. He pulls you back against him. Presses his stiff crotch to your ass slowly. Withdraws. Repeats. Slow. Deep.
You smirk. "I'd rather you fill something else."
There's a tenderness to the way Jimin pushes the skirt of your dress over your ass. Your underwear is black; lace, barely there. His finger hooks beneath the top of the waistband and slowly pulls it tight, the material taut against your soaked core making you gasp.
His other hand drops to your ass cheek. Grapples. Strokes. "Ask nicely."
You're whining a little from the friction he's still controlling. Your hips roll a little as your body sinks to lay flat against his desk, arms outstretched above your head. The tips of your fingers can reach his window. It's steamy. Covered in condensation.
Your silence is noticed.
You ask for nothing, for you're after a very specific something and - fuck - Park Jimin knows how to deliver. His hand pulls away from your ass, meeting it again with a sharp crack. It stings. Makes you gasp, but he can hear the satisfaction in your throat. Knows it's what you wanted.
"I told you to ask nicely," he reminds you, voice soft as he strokes against your ass again.
You don't. Instead, you repeat your movements. Slow, and languid, Jimin's trying his hardest not to just pull his cock out and start fucking you like he so desperately wants to.
But you're being a fucking tease, and he's not one to give into power dynamics all that easily.
And so his hand meets your ass again, the tips of his fingers digging in where they meet your skin.
"Fuck."
"Not the right answer," he tells you, spanking again, a little harder this time. Your hips are rolling so desperately that Jimin thinks it would be kind to put you out of your misery - but he also knows you can do it yourself.
You know exactly the right thing to say to get his cock pushing into you.
And yet you don't.
You enjoy this too much. Enjoy that he'll be the one begging soon.
It comes quicker than you expect - three more spanks, to be precise. Jimin's so hard he think he might cum in his fucking pants if this goes on for much longer.
His fingers sink into your hot core as he says, "Gotta fuck you, gorgeous. Gotta- uh, fuck. So fuckin' wet, aren't you? I made you this needy?"
Why the fuck he thinks you'll give him the answer he wants is beyond him.
You like a challenge far too much.
"Me? Wet? Baby, this is nothing," you tell him.
And just like that, it's all on your terms. He wants to prove himself. If this is nothing (it's not, you're soaked), then he wants everything.
You're in control of it all; the way Jimin can't control himself, the way he asks to fuck you raw but you insist on a condom, the way he pushes his thick cock into you so slowly that you can't help but whine. It's all orchestrated by you.
You think it's cute that he thought he had authority for a little bit. He still does as he thrusts his hips against you, the sound of skin slapping together echoing around the room. His cock burns and cools in the same stroke; filling you, and then leaving you empty. He's got a good pace. A good rhythm. Enough to have you moaning.
"Take me so well," he husks, before letting his palm crack against your ass again. You whine, and so he does it once more.
Again, very cute that he thinks he's in control.
You're whining cause you know it means he'll just do it again. And he does, and -fuck- you're close. He really had edged you with his teasing. His hand wraps around your ponytail, pulling your torso up. It's arched, and fuck if it isn't the sexiest thing Jimin's ever seen.
"You're gonna make me cum, gorgeous," he groans. "Gonna make- Oh fuck. You feel so fucking good."
It's been a while since you last felt like playing the role of a cum slut, but the idea of him spilling himself onto you has you mewling. You want it. Have missed feeling used like this.
Hoseok isn't the only one who's recently been through a change in relationship status; you're just dealing with it a hell of a lot better.
Or at least you're telling yourself you are.
"On my back," you tell him - and he needs no further instructions. He fucks himself into you - fast, frantic, fraught - until he's grunting. He pulls out, tears the condom from his leaky cock and wanks himself all over your spine. His cum is warm against your skin, his body shaking from his release. Thick. Well placed.
Credit where it's due, you think. He's got a great pull-out game. Makes sense, considering how much he'd pleaded to fuck you raw. Must have had a lot of practice.
"You fucking loved that," he tells you, spanking your ass one final time, and it makes you laugh. He's cocky, and it suits him well, but it still amazes you that he thinks he was in control.
"Just what I needed," you flirt regardless. You'll give him the ego boost. It's not like you actually came, but it was enough to satisfy a craving. "Appreciate it."
"Pleasures all mine," he smirks as he reaches for the tissues by his bed. If he were truly a gent, he'd clean it up himself. The angle is awkward for you, twisting uncomfortably to reach it. Fuck knows if you get it all. He pulls off his shirt and begins to actually undress himself, now. "You're welcome to stay."
It's a nice offer. Not one that you'll accept. The idea of snuggling up with a stranger makes your skin crawl. "Can I just charge for my phone for a bit? I'll order a taxi back to mine."
Jimin shrugs. He doesn't give a shit if you stay or go, but he does enjoy post fuck intimacy. Whenever Jimin discusses his hookups with his housemate, they're always confused.
They hate post fuck intimacy with strangers. Just like you. They like to shower; get the feeling of filth off of themselves.
Jimin isn't like that. He revels in it. Thinks it's the most humane feeling in the world. What we were built to do.
He yawns, clearly wiped out from the alcohol and mumbles something about 'wake me if you need me' - and then he's dozing off. You haven't even found his charger yet.
The clock on his desk reads 5:07 in the morning. You really do just want to go home. Get a couple hours sleep in. You're working the afternoon shift in the cafe today, so you'll be fine, but you'd still rather not crash here. Rather go home, sober up, have a shower.
Now that the haze of sex is gone, you're less enthusiastic about the way the skin on your back feels tighter; the remains of his fun drying out.
"Psst," you hiss, trying to get Jimin's attention - but he just snores a little harder. Is dead to the world. Always is after a few too many.
You don't want to turn the light on just incase you wake him, so you head towards the sitting room instead, hoping maybe there'd be a charger in there. You'll plug your phone in for a few minutes, enough charge to ensure you can make it home, and then that'll be it.
Park Jimin will be all but a memory. Not a bad one. Not a significantly great one either. Just a reminder of your reckless youth.
You're still in your heels, thanks to Jimin's decision to take you bent over his desk, so you try your hardest not let them click against the tiles. You're a little tipsy, but you think you're doing alright - that is, at least, until you realise you have no idea where the light switch is.
"Shit."
And then you're on the floor.
You hadn't meant to trip over the side table, but it was so low down that it had been hard to see. Already unsteady on your feet, it hadn't taken much for you to fall - taking the games console controllers resting on it straight down with you - but on the plus side, you've just found the floor switch for a lamp.
So busy trying to figure which wall socket to switch out, you don't notice the click of a door. It's from down the hall, the opposite end to Jimin's room.
Jimin's flatmate pads along the tile flooring, scuffing against them slightly. He's in nothing but a pair of boxers and socks. He's silent, bringing the heel of his palm to his eyes, rubbing slightly. Having only just fallen asleep, he didn't take too kindly to the rude awakening - but knew Jimin was a liability after a few too many. Nothing to be too annoyed about.
"Watcha lost?" he croaks, before you manage to flick the light on and his gaze falls on you. "Oh."
His brow pinch together, eyes scanning you. He blinks once, twice. Sneers a little in confusion. "What are you doing here?"
You stare up at him, eyes wide as you take him in; hair ruffled, exposed torso shining in the warm lamp light, tattoos trailing up his arm and spilling over onto his shoulder.
You're still in your party dress. What little makeup you did still have on when you left the club is now smeared around your eyes. Your ponytail isn't as sleek as it once was thanks to Jimin's earlier grip on it.
And then he notices the hickey, too. Ah. That explains it.
You furrow your brows right back. "Could ask you the same."
You wonder what brings him here at such an hour. Perhaps he's dating Jimin's roommate. Perhaps she was at the bar too, and he just went home with her? Perhaps you misread his flirting and it's not a 'she' at all?
His tongue runs along the inside of his cheek as you stand, straightening yourself out a little. You're awkward as you get to your feet, legs bowing a little. Your eyes are all big and wide, like they were when you thought he could smell smoke on you earlier. He feels a little bad.
You half expect to hear a 'baby, come back to bed,' from whoever he's sharing one with.
But instead, Jeongguk simply says, "didn't realise I needed permission to be in my own apartment."
Your eyes close as your whole entire body winces from the cringe. Of course. It makes perfect sense.
"Running out on him already?" Jeongguk smirks. It's arrogant. Feels like he's judging you. Taking it personally. "Cold."
"Places to be," you shrug. "He's out cold."
"Yeah," Jeongguk nods. "He does that. Sounds like Jimin."
There's silence for a moment. Neither of you know exactly what to say. Early morning is breaking, and it's casting the most glorious orange hues onto his toned abs. You've no idea what he does in the gym, but you know he must be there every waking moment to have a physique like that.
"Sorry-"
"I was just-"
Again, you both pause, a little bashful. Red in the cheeks. Heartbeat in your throat. You look down, and give Jeongguk the room to talk.
"I thought Jimin was looking for something. Sorry. I'll let you get on."
"Oh, no," you smile. "It's fine, I'm sorry for waking you. Was just about to leave."
"Only been home for about twenty minutes. Didn't wake me."
Your face turns a ghostly white. He laughs.
"Didn't hear anything, don't worry."
And now it's as rosy as his lips, which are breaking into a smile.
"Clear off," he says tenderly. "There's a taxi rank next to the CU across the road. I'll tell Jimin you had to get home. No biggie."
You nod. Bow because that somehow feels appropriate. He's laughing at you again, and you're laughing too and - fuck - you want to die. This is not how you thought your night would end. Didn't even get an orgasm from Jimin to make up for the awkwardness of such an encounter.
"Thank you."
"It's cool," he says as he shrugs, walking to the door with you in a casual silence. It's awkward but not uncomfortable - although it is a little funny, 'cause even though his roommates been inside of you, you somehow feel like you know Jeongguk a little better.
He says goodbye. Reminds you to text Jimin to let him know you're home safe (not that you have his number) and smiles as he says, "See you around, trouble."
And you know you shouldn't, but you really hope you do.
AO3 | MASTERLIST | NEXT
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