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daechwitatamic · 1 year

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Sit. Stay. || KSJ

(banner by @kth1)

Title: Sit. Stay. WC: 14k one-shot Genre: fluff, s2l, neighbors!au, baby angst for a quick minute?, smut

Summary: Your new puppy, Zinnia, has turned your world on its head. She’s ruined everything from your sleep schedule to your favorite shoes, and you know it’s your own failure to train her properly. When your cute upstairs neighbor tells you about a local obedience academy, he slowly starts to make himself a place in your schedule, your life, and your heart. After your last relationship went up in flames, will his affections be something else you can count as a failure?

Rating: NSFW - Minors DNI, i mean it

Warnings: language, casual drinking, a parent is having heart problems and seeing doctors for it, miscommunication sort of, immaturity lol, kissing, mentions of surgery/doctors/hospitals - but everyone is okay!, an argument, protected penetrative sex, doggy style (i mean how could i NOT), fingering, a nanosecond of nip stim

A/N: Written for the Paw Prints Academy Collab hosted by @kth1fics! Typo-check by @oddinary4bts - thank you, Ella!!!

You’re asleep, dreaming something plotless - your grandmother, long deceased, is there. It doesn't feel sad - it feels peaceful. It feels like, oh, it’s nice to see you again.

And it’s ruined, too early, by a long, high-pitched, inhuman cry. You startle awake, heart pounding as your brain scrambles to make sense of the sound. The whine - it’s a whine despite the loudness of it - dies down and is followed by a series of yips and sharp barks. Every noise seems to pierce straight through your skull.

You haven’t slept through a night in four days.

“Zinnia,” you beg, pushing the comforter off your body and making your way blindly across the unlit bedroom, “you have got to chill. You are not dying.”

Zinnia, an eleven-week old chocolate labrador, yaps even louder once she hears your voice.

You’re reinforcing bad behavior by getting up, a voice in your head reminds you.

You know it’s true, but what’s the alternative? Let Zinnia wake up every apartment on the whole floor?

You open the bedroom door, and Zinnie bounces with excitement in her crate, her tail flapping against the wall of it with a rhythmic thwap-ap-thwap-ap.

You sigh. She’s so dang cute, you can’t even be pissed that it’s two in the morning. “Hi, silly girl,” you say, resigned. She rolls herself in a full circle, going belly up and then back to her feet in less than a second.

You unlock the crate and watch absently as she catapults around your feet, races into the kitchen, slides across the linoleum and crashes sideways into a wooden cabinet door, and then dashes - unphased - back towards you, barreling into your shins.

You sigh again and head back to your bedroom for a hoodie and some shoes. Miss Zinnie needs to run, apparently.

You hook up her leash and grab your keys, patting your pocket to make sure your phone is in there before heading to the hallway. Zinnia zips left and right, tripping you more than once on the way to the elevators.

You take the elevators up instead of down. There are a lot of perks to your high-end apartment building - covered parking, a pool, a 24-hour gym - but the best is by far the dog run, outside on the twelfth floor. You’ve used it approximately sixty times in the days since you brought Zinnia home.

You realize as you push open the glass doors to the rooftop space that you forgot poop bags.

“Zinnia,” you say seriously, “I need you to promise not to poop. Got it?”

Zinnie gags once as she pulls too hard on the leash. You rub a hand over her face and reach down to pick her up, opting to carry her hyper ass the rest of the way to the dog run. You hold the door on your way back in for a tall guy with a baseball cap tugged low over his brow, leading a fluffy, blue-eyed dog back into the building. He nods in thanks and hurries past you. You have to step inside for a second to let him by, his shoulders take up so much of the doorway despite his slender frame.

“His dog isn’t choking itself on the leash,” you point out to Zinnia sourly. You make your way over to the dog run and make sure to latch the gate before setting Zinnia back on the ground and unclipping her.

“Go, you absolute menace,” you tell her. “Go run until you’re tired. Please, for the love of god, run until you’re tired.”

–

You’ve always gotten a mid-afternoon energy slump; Zinnia’s nighttime shenanigans haven’t helped that at all. You’re bent over your desk, trying to inhale the caffeine from your two pm coffee, when your phone pings on your desk.

Your heart sinks when you see the name of the college kid who’s supposed to watch Zinnia on weekday afternoons.

“Please just be a cute picture,” you mutter as you unlock your screen. No such luck. The text informs you that, in your absence, Zinnia chewed through a pair of shoes you’d been stupid enough to leave out.

There is an attached picture.

It is not cute.

–

You get home earlier than normal somehow, letting yourself into the apartment and kicking off your shoes. You immediately pick them back up, cradling them against your chest like they need to be protected.

They kind of do. Zinnia hears you and blasts straight at you, running circles around your legs, tail flopping side to side so hard her whole butt wiggles.

“Hello, silly beast,” you say affectionately, though truth be told you’re still mourning those chucks she’d ruined.

Ry, Zinnia’s college pal, gathers her belongings and tells you goodbye. Alone with your shoe-destroyer, you sigh and head to your bedroom, closing the door behind you. Abandoned in the living room, Zinnia begins to sing the song of her people.

“Oh my god,” you huff. “Please, can you let me pee and change clothes? It is okay to be alone for five seconds!”

You ignore her complaints as you do just that, emerging in joggers and a hoodie, and sneakers that aren’t your chucks, since those live in the garbage can now.

You’d been planning on taking Zinnia on a walk walk, but there are some pretty ominous clouds out there. You pull your phone from your pocket and check the hourly - 80% chance that it’s already raining.

A quick trip to the dog run will have to be better than nothing.

You two head to the elevator, and you push the button for the twelfth floor, the ring around the button lighting up red.

The elevator slows to a stop on the eighth floor. The doors open and you spot the dog you’d passed last night, the one with the pretty blue eyes. You raise your eyes to look at its owner, the guy with shoulders the width of the moon.

He’s got a cap on again, but you can see his face today. He lights up when he sees you, stepping inside to let the doors close behind him. He glances at the button panel to make sure his choice is selected - he must be heading to twelve as well.

“We met you last night,” he says slyly, smiling at you. You’re unable to answer for a second; he’s so good-looking you think he must model or something. He’s got a strong brow, beautiful dark eyes, and lips that should be a museum, carved from marble.

“I think we did,” you agree, feeling suddenly shy, completely unqualified to speak to this absolute god.

“We did,” he says confidently. “I’d remember a face that cute anywhere.”

You feel yourself flush, suddenly so warm that you want to strip off your hoodie and maybe your shoes too, just to cool down. Then you realize that he’s looking down at Zinnia, whose tail is wagging so ferociously that she’s almost toppling over as she sniffs noses with the stranger’s dog.

“Is she okay?” you ask suddenly. “Do I need to –?”

“It’s fine,” he says easily, flapping a hand at you. “Blue’s very maternal. She knows a baby when she sees one.”

“Okay,” you say, sighing a little in relief. Being a Bad Dog Owner is bad enough, you’d hate to make a mistake with someone else’s dog in the equation.

The elevator doors open on the twelfth floor, and the guy holds out a hand, beckoning you to go first. You try to exit, but Zinnia is so obsessed with the guy’s dog - Blue - that she won’t budge.

“Good god,” you grumble, reaching down to lift her, stalking out of the elevator with only a scrap of your dignity. You’re pretty sure you hear the guy snicker as he follows you towards the doors to outside.

There’s an elderly lady and a corgi in the dog run, and you and the guy from the eighth floor hurry through the gate and latch it quickly.

Zinnia takes off sprinting the second you unclip her. Blue trots over to the corgi first.

“So,” you say. “You have a dog that listens.”

The grin he shoots you is amused. “I’ve had Blue for almost eight years. You have a baby. A lot of her behavior right now - the energy, chewing on everything she finds - she’ll grow out of.”

“That’s a relief,” you say, thinking of the ruined chair legs under your kitchen table. You’d had that kitchen set for a decade and Zinnia left it covered in teeth-marks within the seven minutes it took you to switch laundry loads.

He shrugs. “Some of it has to be trained out, though,” he warns you.

“Damn,” you sigh. A raindrop hits the back of your hand; instinctively, you raise your eyes to the clouds. Beside you, the guy does the same. On the other end of the dog run, the older lady calls her corgi over and clips its leash, ready to head in.

“You better pee fast, you monster,” you tell Zinnia, who doesn’t hear you and wouldn’t care even if she did.

The guy laughs quietly under his breath, then whistles once. Blue stops sniffing the ground and trots over immediately. Either his competence is really sexy, or you’re biased by his face.

“I’m Seokjin, by the way,” he says, looking up at you as he bends over to clip the leash back on. “Most people just call me Jin. This is Blue.”

As the rain starts to patter more strongly, you tell him your name, and then point at your bonkers puppy, who is currently trying to wedge herself under the metal beam below a bench. “That absolute disaster is Zinnia.”

He smiles and repeats it. “We’ll see you around,” he says, heading back in towards the building, leaving you and your puppy in a suddenly steady rain.

–

You stagger like a zombie to the elevators in the morning, hands clasped around a travel mug full of hot tea. Inside, you lean heavily against the wall, willing your eyes to stay open as you descend.

You’ve made it down two floors before you even register that another human is in there with you. One more before you register that you know that human.

“There she is,” he says brightly, when he sees that you’ve clocked him, finally. “Good morning!”

“Sorry,” you say, smiling ruefully. “I’m exhausted.”

He nods understandingly. “New puppies will do that,” he says, still cheerful. “Are you crate-training her at night?”

“Trying to,” you grumble. “It’s not going great.”

He seems like he’s going to answer, but the elevator stops on floor three and four more people shuffle in between you. When you’re released into the lobby, he nods goodbye from the opposite side of the small crowd as you make your way through the front doors.

–

You barely make it through the work-day without taking an illegal nap at your desk, but somehow you do. When you get home, Ry slipping out your front door the second she hears you, you want nothing more than to collapse on the couch and close your eyes.

Instead, you leash up Zinnia - without even changing clothes first - and head up to the dog run. You figure if she handles her business now, it might buy you a few hours of couch time.

You also wonder if the guy - Jin - is usually out there right around now. He was yesterday, after all. Maybe that’s his normal schedule.

He’s out there before you, this time. Your hunch was right. You unclip Zinnia and lean back against the fence, hoping you don’t fall asleep on your feet like this.

Jin sidles up beside you and you can’t deny the warm, pleased feeling that rises up in you.

“Tough day at work?” he asks.

You can’t fight the smile off your face - you don’t even try. “Normal,” you say. “Yours?”

He shrugs. “Normal.”

You wait a beat, two beats. Jin leans comfortably next to you, his eyes watching Blue as she runs happily alongside someone’s doberman.

“What do you do?” you ask, curiosity getting the best of you.

He gives you a sideways look that you can’t decipher. “You’ll be disappointed,” he says, sort of like a warning.

This surprises you. “Disappointed? Why?”

He shrugs. “It’s pretty boring.”

Your smile turns a little knowing. “And you don’t like looking boring?”

His mouth twists to the side. “I don’t like feeling boring. But anyway - I’m a salesman. I work at a sporting goods store. I do consultations for certain equipment, but most of the time I’m just trying to make commission.”

I think with that smile you could probably sell me a used tissue, you think unhelpfully.

“That’s more exciting than mine,” you tell him, hoping it cheers him up. “I spend all eight hours behind a desk.”

He grimaces. “Do you hate it?” he asks.

No one’s ever framed the question like that before. You ponder this as, across the dog run, Zinnia happily harasses a pair of doodle-mixes.

“I don’t hate it,” you say slowly, weighing the truth of the words. “It’s just… monotonous, sometimes.”

“So you got a puppy to break up the monotony,” he guesses.

Now it’s your turn to grimace. “I got a puppy because my boyfriend moved out.”

He turns to look at you sharply, expression stricken. “I’m sorry - I didn’t -.”

“It’s fine,” you assure him. “I kicked him out. Caught him - well - it doesn’t matter. The point is I wasn’t sad to see him go. And I’d been trying for a long time to talk him into getting a dog, so. I gave myself a few months to get back on my feet and then I got myself a damn dog.”

And now she’s eating everything I own, you don’t add.

“Sorry you went through that,” Jin says seriously. You wave him off.

“It’s ancient history,” you tell him. “Besides, I’d trade him for Zinnie any day. Even when she pees inside.”

He laughs at this.

You stand chatting for a while - long enough for the doodle-mixes to get taken inside, and for a whole herd of dachshunds to come, chase circles around Zinnia for thirty minutes, and leave again, shepherded out by a middle-aged man. Long enough to learn that Jin went to college in the city, has an advanced degree in Business Management that he’s never used, adopted Blue when he was twenty-one. Long enough to learn that his parents live on the coast, that he can do most board-centered sports well, that he likes food and video games more than he likes most people. Long enough for him to learn your answers to the same questions.

“I should probably take her in,” he says finally, as dusk settles around you. “We both need dinner.”

“Sure,” you say. “I should, too. Zinnie! Zin! Zinnia, come!”

Jin snorts as Zinnia happily ignores you.

–

Your Friday is off to a bad start. Not only did Zinnie scream through the night, until you caved and let her out of the crate and spent the rest of the night on the couch so she wouldn’t feel lonely, but you break a heel on your way out the door.

The sudden break sends you sprawling onto your carpeted entryway floor. Your thermos of tea rolls away - thankfully sealed tight - but you feel your tights tear on your knee where you land. And your face ends up almost under a kitchen chair, eye to eye with a delightful little gift that Zinnia must have left you sometime while you were trying to get dressed.

You pushed yourself to your feet, eye your ripped tights and then the clock, and burst into tears on the spot. “Zinnia!” you wail. “I do not have time to go change! And I definitely do not have time to scrub the carpet right now!”

You do both, shooting the puppy death-stares as you scoot out of the apartment twenty minutes late with a blotchy face. You’d better not meet Seokjin in the elevators today, like this.

Luckily you don’t - but that’s about the last good thing you can say about the rest of your day. You get a nasty email from your boss for arriving late, you realize once you get to your office that you’d left your thermos of tea back on your kitchen table after you’d tripped, and Ry texts you to say she’s got a flu and she can’t take Zinnia out to pee after lunch the way she usually does.

You can’t leave early to handle it; you’re already in hot water for being late. You have to accept the fact that you’ll be going home to a mess - Zinnia can’t be expected to hold it that long, and it’s your fault, not hers. You just hope that, without someone there to play with her, her tiny, baby bladder is the only mess you’ll find, and not more ruined furniture.

It sucks, and you feel horrible - hoping she doesn’t cry and bark all afternoon, alone - but there’s nothing you can do about it.

When you get home, it’s about what you expected. You spray the carpet, hurry to change clothes, then come out to scrub where the spray had been sitting. You clean this up, and then the shreds of paper towel from the paper towel roll that Zinnia somehow got from the kitchen table, and face the puppy, utterly exhausted and at wit’s end. Somehow, you find yourself wanting to cry again.

“Maybe,” you tell her, as she looks up at you expectantly, “I am just not meant to be a dog parent. Maybe you need someone who knows what they’re doing. Or works from home. Or has a roommate to help. Something. Something that isn’t this.”

Oblivious to your emotional spiral, oblivious that you’re questioning your place in her life, Zinnia lays down and yawns, pink tongue curling and paws stretching as far as they can reach.

You skip the dog run. You think she probably needs an actual walk since Ry didn’t play with her this afternoon, and you don’t think you can face Seokjin in your current mood. He’ll either be friendly or sympathetic, and you can’t handle either of those with grace right now.

You strap Zinnia into an actual harness, not trusting her on just a clip-leash off the apartment property, and head towards the river. You detour through the park on your way, hoping the fresh air, exercise, and sunshine will work their magic.

They don’t. You fight back tears all the way to the riverside, Zinnia trotting along at times, pulling the leash towards passersby and random garbage at others.

Near the river, you spot a restaurant with outdoor seating. A few tables have brought their dogs; they lay on the pavement next to their humans’ tables happily, causing no fuss.

“What do you think?” you ask Zinnia wryly. “Can you be good long enough for one drink?”

You don’t give her the choice, getting yourself a table and tying her leash securely to your chair. One drink turns into two, then somehow you’re working on a third, your chin resting in your hand, a little stormcloud brewing above your head.

You’re startled when a body drops into the chair across from yours. You reach for Zinnia’s leash, alarmed, and then you realize it’s only Jin.

“What are you doing here?” you ask, at the same time that he says, “You look miserable.”

You stare at each other, not sure who should address what first.

“I was on my way home,” he explains. “The subway stop here isn’t that far from our place, so I’ll take it sometimes when the weather’s nice.”

You nod, accepting this. Then you decide to address what he’d said. “I am miserable,” you admit. “I am the worst dog owner on the planet. Come see me in five years, I will have one hellion of a dog, and exactly zero unruined square inches of apartment.”

Jin looks at you with an expression that’s both amused at your hyperbole and a bit sympathetic. You don’t know what you expect him to say, but it isn’t this - he leans forward, brows furrowing seriously, and asks you, “Can I make a suggestion?”

“Please,” you say, somewhat desperately. “I will take any suggestions.”

He sits back, the intensity leaving his face. “I have a few friends who work at this place in town? It’s called Paw Prints Academy.”

You chuckle. “Is it for bad dogs?”

He flashes you a smile. “Their secret, unofficial motto is there are no bad dogs, only bad owners.”

“Sounds like the place for me,” you admit.

“They’ve got it all - obedience classes, experts to run your questions by, groomers, boarding, day care.”

“It sounds great,” you say. “I obviously need some expert help. I’m a disaster.”

“I’ll send you their website,” Jin promises, and then pauses, his hand halfway to his phone. He seems, suddenly, less sure. The tips of his ears are suddenly red. “I… that is… if you’re okay with giving me your number?”

You hide your smile behind a hand. “Sure,” you say, trying to bite back the grin. “You can have my number.”

“For puppy purposes,” he clarifies with a cheeky smile. As if you both know that’s a lie.

“For puppy purposes,” you reassure him, feeling your little stormcloud start to dissipate.

–

Seokjin doesn’t abuse having your number. He sends you the website to Paw Prints Academy, and adds, “my friend’s name is jimin, tell him you know me” and then you don’t hear from him again. You call the academy and get Zinnia registered for obedience courses. You also sign yourself up for a seminar called New Puppy 101.

Slowly, things actually start looking up. It happens in a trickle, so gradually it’s barely noticeable. You don’t notice - until the first morning your alarm goes off and you realize with a jolt of terror that Zinnia hadn’t woken you up in the middle of the night, even once.

But when you trip over your own feet in a panic, throwing open your bedroom door, terrified of what you’ll find… you find Zinnia lying peacefully on her side in her crate. She begins to thump her tail happily when she sees you, and you nearly sag with relief.

Things improve for you at work, too; it’s almost like getting a full night’s sleep makes you more productive or something.

You go a full five days without scrubbing your carpet or throwing away any shoes.

And, of course, it doesn’t hurt that you meet Seokjin and Blue up in the dog run nearly every evening after work.

It’s during one of these unscheduled, yet oddly routine instances that Jin points out Zinnia’s progress.

You’re leaning against the fence together, watching absently as the dogs run around, as you have almost every day lately. Sure, you take Zinnia up as soon as you get home from work for her sake. But the coincidence that Jin is usually there around the same time doesn’t hurt.

“She seems way better,” he observes, turning his head to watch Zinnia zip by. “I can’t believe how big she’s gotten, too.”

“I know, right?” you explode, responding to both observations at once. But you can’t help it - you’re proud. “Watch this! Zinnia! Zinnie!”

And Zinnia, your wild baby, stops running and turns to look at you eagerly, waiting.

“Sit!” you call.

And Zinnia sits.

Seokjin whistles low, appreciative.

“Jimin’s a miracle worker,” he says. “I’m glad you called them.”

“Me too,” you admit. “Did I ever thank you for sending me their info? Because, seriously, I think you saved my life.”

Jin laughs, full and deep.

It scares you how much you like the feeling of making him laugh. It makes you want to sprint out of there, with or without Zinnia, hopping the fence if you have to.

–

The next afternoon, you get home and get ready to head up to the dog run. It’s a beautiful day, but you barely notice as you rotely go through the motions - change shoes, clip Zinnia’s leash, grab your keys from the countertop, head for the elevator. You keep your phone in your hand, hoping for a vibration, terrified of the vibration.

The dog run is empty when you get there; normally you’d be a little bummed that Jin isn’t there with Blue as he is almost every weekday evening, but today you’re relieved that you don’t have to try to carry a conversation. You unclip Zinnia, who darts away, and give a heavy sigh, leaning heavily against the fence, your phone still between your white-knuckled fingers.

Your relief is short-lived, because the building door opens less than two minutes later and Blue leads Jin out into the sunshine.

He smiles when he sees you, loping over and taking his now-familiar spot next to you as Blue sniffs the ground next to the metal bench to your left.

He’s chattering at you, and you think you’re answering, but it all kind of flows around you. After a few minutes of this, he pauses mid-sentence, brows furrowing.

“Hey,” he says kind of softly - there’s a definite change in his tone, which is honestly the thing that grabs your attention. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you answer on instinct. “All good.”

There’s something sharp in his sideways glance. “You sure? You seem distracted.”

You wave the hand holding your phone a little, nodding your head toward it. “My dad’s at a cardiologist appointment right now. I’m waiting to hear if everything is fine… or if everything is not fine, in which case I probably need to go pack a bag and look up train times…” You trail off. Seokjin is listening intently, his face serious. You feel a flush of embarrassment anyway. “Sorry. I shouldn’t unload on you. We’re practically strangers.”

The crease between his eyebrows deepens with his frown.

“Well, now my feelings are hurt,” he complains.

You blink back at him, surprised. This was not the response you were expecting.

“I thought we were friends,” he continues, an exaggerated pout creeping into his tone and onto his features. “I don’t keep a steady schedule at the complex’s dog run for just anybody, you know.”

Your heart trips over its own feet and faceplants in the dirt. You feel your eyes go wide as he puts words to something you’d suspected but had been afraid to assume - that you’d both been coming here at the same time on purpose. Not just you, but him too.

The playfulness melts away with the fake pout, and he’s back to looking at you seriously. “Have you had dinner?” he asks. There’s something gentle about the way he says the words; you feel something warm drop to your toes, intoxicating. “Let me cook for you.”

“You cook?” you blurt.

He smiles warmly, a touch of amusement in it. Like he’s thinking, but is too polite to say, how much you don’t know about him. It’s definitely what you’re thinking.

“Come on,” he says, heading around you towards the gate, giving your elbow a gentle touch on his way by. “I’ll make you something good.”

–

Jin’s apartment is cleaner than you’d expected, to be honest. He sets you up at his breakfast bar with a generously poured glass of red wine and gets to work in the kitchen.

“Is Zinnie okay?” you ask him, looking over your shoulder anxiously as Zinnia sniffs his couch frantically, like the fabric is holding every secret the universe could ever hold. “She tends to… chew. It’s been better since we started classes with Jimin, but nobody’s perfect.”

“Don’t sweat it,” Jin says, waving a hand at you. “Blue did her share of damage to my stuff when she was a baby.”

You watch him in comfortable silence as he dices vegetables, a pot of water heating on the stovetop. Maybe it’s the wine talking, but it’s lowkey pretty sexy how he works a kitchen knife. It’s almost enough to distract you from the churning pit of anxiety in your stomach as you tap your fingers absently on your darkened phone screen.

“So it’s been going well with Jimin, huh?” Jin asks over his shoulder, and you tear your gaze away from your phone and try to catch up to the conversation.

“Oh,” you say, once you’ve processed. “Really well, actually. I think he’s a dog genius.”

Jin laughs at this, lifting the cutting board to slide what he’s chopped into the pot of water. Then he comes over to his side of the breakfast bar and picks up the other glass of red wine, still untouched.

“He’s good at his job,” Jin agrees. “I don’t know about genius. Did you know he’s secretly a cat person?”

This makes you giggle a little, your eyes falling back to your screen. Again, Jin tries to pull you back.

“Is she following any other commands now?” He eyes you over the top of his wine glass as he takes a long drink from it.

You smile a little, well aware that he’s distracting you on purpose, well aware that you aren’t sure you deserve this level of care from him.

But apparently you’re friends.

“She’s pretty good about here, and sit,” you say. “Not so good with stay. It’s a work in progress.”

Jin grins at this, something sparkling in his eyes.

“She’s sleeping in her crate at night, too,” you add.

“Wow,” Jin says, eyebrows raising. “That must be nice.”

“I don’t know how I was surviving before,” you tell him seriously, and he laughs again as he turns back to the stove to handle something.

You chat like this, in starts and stops, until the meal is done. Jin slides a steaming bowl before you and sets up a few sides before coming to take the seat to your right. Zinnia appears underfoot, nose sniffing wildly.

“I agree,” you tell her seriously. “It smells amazing. Who taught you to cook?”

His smile softens, going a little sideways. “My grandfather, actually. Weird, right? He was widowed when my dad and my aunts and uncles were all pretty little, so he had to learn, had to feed all those kids.”

“That’s not weird at all,” you tell him. “It’s actually kind of beautiful.”

Emboldened, Jin continues, the fond smile remaining on his face. “He’s a brilliant cook - we’ve told him forever he should have a cooking channel.”

You laugh a little. “People would probably be into that. Especially if you were the assistant.”

This comes out of your mouth without you realizing; the second you register that it has, you feel yourself blush furiously. And, dammit, Jin clocks the whole thing.

“Oh yeah?” he asks, that soft smile turning razor sharp. “Why’s that?”

You’re saved by your phone buzzing on the table, the screen coming to life, illuminating with the notification from your messaging app: Mom.

Frantically, you swipe to open the message, eyes flying across the screen as you read her update. Then, you close your eyes, pressing your forehead to the breakfast bar, the fake granite cool beneath your skin, letting out a shaky exhale.

You feel Jin; he’s instantly in your space, one large hand resting lightly over your shoulder as he hovers closer to you. Aside from his hand on your back, comforting, he’s not touching you at all. But somehow it feels like he’s surrounding you.

He says your name quietly, inquisitively.

You reach out blindly, your hand finding his knee. “It’s okay,” you say, taking a deep breath and sitting up. Your head spins. You press the heels of your hands to your eyes and take another deep, bracing breath. Seokjin’s hand stays on your back. “It’s good news.”

You hear Jin exhale beside you, his fingers twitching against your shoulder blade, almost like he had the reflex to squeeze you and fought it just a second too late. It strikes you, deeply, that he’s relieved. He doesn’t know your parents, has no real stake here. But his relief is palpable next to you; your worry had become his own.

“I’m sorry,” you tell him. Your problems shouldn’t be his to bear. “I know I wasn’t great company tonight.”

He shakes his head, following your lead and placing his hand back on his own legs, as if wanting to cover the spot on his knee that you’d left vacant. “I enjoyed your company,” he says openly. “I’m glad you came over.”

You sit in silence, both sneaking glances, neither knowing what move to make yet. You feel like you’re playing Chutes and Ladders and a chute just sent you sideways around the Peppermint Forest and dumped you seven spaces ahead when you don’t really belong there yet. Or maybe you’re mixing up your board games.

“I should probably go give them a call,” you say reluctantly. “Can I help you clean up? You cooked.”

“No,” he says firmly, shaking his head. Both dogs look up at this familiar word, gauging if they’re the ones in trouble. This makes you smile, and it breaks you out of the weird headspace you were in. “I’ll clean up.”

You rise, calling to Zinnia as you grab her leash. You clip her up and head for the door. Jin trails behind you, walking you out. You pause near the door, looking at him balefully.

“Thank you,” you say quietly. “Seriously - for everything. For… caring about my problems. For the delicious food. For cooking and cleaning up. You should have let me do the dishes.”

He smiles at you, sunlight spun into the quirk of his lips, the soft wrinkle at the edges of his eyes. “If you’re that worried about it, I know how you can make it up to me,” he says, his voice a little teasing.

“Oh?” You quirk an eyebrow. You’ve got emotional whiplash; in the last three hours you’ve gone from flirting to panicking to soft to awkward to flirting again and you cannot keep up.

He leans against the wall, crosses his arms over his chest, that smile turning sharp again. God, you like his face so much. You like him so much. “Mhm,” he says, mock seriously. “I found a trail I want to check out with Blue, but as a general rule I don’t do mountains alone.”

“Sure,” you deadpan. “You need an Adventure Buddy.”

“Yes,” he says eagerly, snapping his fingers in excitement. “Exactly. So, what do you think? This weekend? The weather’s supposed to be great.”

“Can I let you know?” you ask. “Text me the details.” Truth be told, you want to look up the trail first and decide if it seems too challenging.

Jin slips out of that teasing, flirtatious mode easily. “Sure,” he says, all casual again. He’s so hard to keep up with, you think you’ll never get used to it. “I’ll text you.”

You open the door, tripping over Zinnia a little as she pushes past you into the hallway, but you’re stopped when Jin says your name one more time. You look back over your shoulder, curious.

“I’m glad your dad’s okay,” he says, giving you a rueful smile.

You give a tiny smile back before Zinnia bodily tugs you further away, spurring you into movement. “Thanks,” you say, and turn to go.

–

[9:19 PM] You: idk about this trail…. looking at the elevation… do you think it’ll be too hard for Zinnie? she’s just a baby :’)

[9:21 PM] Seokjin: the elevation’s misleading, it’s honestly not that bad

[9:22 PM] Seokjin: you’ll be totally fine

[9:23 PM] Seokjin: oops i mean “Zinnia” will be totally fine 😏

[9:23 PM] You: … what exactly are you implying here

[9:24 PM] Seokjin: just that any and all babies will be fine :)

[9:25 PM] You: …….i think we’re fighting

–

Seokjin drives you - and the dogs - to the trailhead early Saturday morning, the low rising sun dodging in and out between buildings as they pass you by. The forecast calls for a beautiful day - bright and clear, not too hot to hike, but not so chilly that you’ll shiver the whole first leg.

As Seokjin parks and organizes his backpack, you stand next to the car, shielding your eyes and peering at the top.

He laughs when he notices, the sound alive and as bright as the weather. “It’s not as bad as it looks,” he promises, coming close, looking at the top with you. His presence, so close to you, feels thrilling - like electricity, like a promise.

“You keep saying that,” you deadpan, “but if Zinnia conks out on me, you’re carrying her up the mountain and back.”

“Have some faith,” he teases, and heads for the place where the trees split, the path tamped down from many feet, leading into thick forest.

Zinnia keeps up pretty well, actually, and you and Seokjin set a steady pace up the trail.

About a half a mile in, he asks, “How’s your dad?”

It startles you, and you look over at him kind of wildly. He looks back at you like it’s nothing - like it’s nothing that he remembered and thought to ask - waiting for your response.

“Fine,” you say, a habit. Then, reconsidering, you add, “I mean, the same. He’s got more tests and stuff lined up, but the verdict from the cardiologist was that there’s no immediate concern. So… that was a relief. His primary care doctor looked at his EKG results and said to go immediately, so we were pretty scared.”

“I’d be scared, too,” he admits. “I’m glad you got good news. I would have been a wreck.”

You continue talking as you walk - about your families, your parents, your siblings. This moves into a conversation about things you both remember from growing up, until the conversation has delved into you both laughing too hard to get a sentence out as you manage, “Wait - wait, do you remember -?”

This takes the conversation to old movies you remember fondly.

“Can you believe my ex had never even heard of those?” you ask a little indignantly, before registering that maybe that was a weird thing to say.

But Seokjin takes it in stride. “The one who cheated on you? We’ve established his poor taste already.”

This makes you giggle. “Yes, that winner.”

He looks over at you, as the trail veers left and sharply steepens. “I’m sorry you went through that,” he says evenly. “I can kind of relate. It’s not fun.”

You peer back at him, not sure how heavy this conversation is going to, or should, get.

Hesitantly, you ask, “Do you want to tell me about it? I don’t want to… y’know. Pry.”

He shrugs. “At the end of the day, there’s not much to tell. My last girlfriend… I don’t think she cheated - or, well, I never had proof that she did.”

“You suspected?”

He wiggles his head, indicating a maybe. “I think it was heading that way with her and a co-worker. It’s possible that I ended things before it got to that point. But she started lying to me about him - about little stuff, stuff that shouldn’t matter. And I just… I’m a pretty understanding, easy-going guy, but I’m not going to tolerate someone lying to my face.”

You continue in silence for a few minutes, weighing these words in your mind, adding this new knowledge to the idea of Jin that’s in your head.

Then, he flashes you a cheesy grin and says lightly, “And that’s my sales pitch! Want to date me?”

You laugh out loud, mostly in surprise. But he’s still looking at you, and you feel your eyebrows raise.

“Was that a real question?” you ask, a little disbelieving. God, he’s the most unserious person you’ve ever met.

“A little bit,” he admits.

Stunned, you manage, “You might need to do a harder sell.”

His brows furrow dramatically. “Please, I’m a catch. Didn’t you taste my food the other night?”

“That’s true,” you muse. “The food was bomb. I’ll think about it. Gotta decide if this purchase will break the bank or not.”

While you’re just going along with his little bit, it kind of feels like code. You do need to consider if you can afford dating Jin - emotionally. Mentally. Are you ready for a relationship again? Would that even be what he wants?

“That’s fair,” he says easily. “Crunch some numbers and let me know.”

You think with anyone else it would be awkward the rest of the way, but Jin doesn’t allow it to be. He carries the conversation onto the next topic - gossip about your dog-trainer, Jimin - without a hitch.

You follow the conversation somewhat absently, still in your head, questions rising up to stare at you like Marley’s ghost, covered in chains. What do you want? What are you ready for?

You aren’t sure - about any of it. But Seokjin’s presence feels like warm rays of sunshine, warming you from a chill you didn’t know you had, and his laugh feels like the toll of city bells, telling you it’s time to come home.

–

Zinnia doesn’t conk out on her way up the mountain, but she definitely slows. Jin ties the girls’ leashes to a low branch near the trail and fishes a collapsible water bowl from his backpack, filling it with water and setting it down.

“Wow, that’s fancy,” you marvel, as Zinnia attacks the water bowl with vigor, water splashing the rock beneath, painting everything a darker shade of grey. “If we’re gonna keep doing this, I might need to get one of those.”

But Jin’s attention isn’t on the dogs anymore - it’s on the view. He’s wandered to the edge of the flat expanse of rock, where grey meets the green of far down below. You join him, and he puts an arm around your shoulders, glancing at you to make sure this is okay. You look out at the view, and it is beautiful… but your mind is too busy to appreciate it.

“Jin…” you say slowly, and he looks down at you, hand tightening against your shoulder almost reflexively.

“Hm?”

“If I were interested… what exactly are the terms of sale?” you murmur, feeling kind of shy.

Jin laughs, delighted, throwing his head back with it. His hair falls away from his face and he uses the hand that’s not on your shoulder to push it back. “What do you want them to be?” he asks, and you feel a tingle down to your toes at the dangerous undercurrent that flows along with the question.

“I’m not totally sure,” you admit quietly. “Is there any kind of… trial period? Any way to start is slow and see how it goes?”

Seokjin gives you an understanding squeeze. “Listen, as much as I love the bit and your dedication to it, I really want to communicate clearly about this. So - just to be very clear - I’d really like to date you. If you’re more comfortable starting slowly, I’m okay with that.”

You press your lips together, reaching a hand up to gently touch his fingers where they rest on your shoulder, considering.

Seokjin watches your face, then says, “I know a great burger joint on the way home. Let me buy your dinner, and we can call this a first date. What do you think?”

You turn to face him, looking up and up into his warm eyes, and his hand shifts from your shoulder to the center of your back, holding you loosely enough that you don’t feel held in place, feel free to go if that’s what you choose.

“That’s a pretty good first date,” you say seriously. “But it’s really gonna depend on how the burgers are.”

He grins, cocky. “They’re pretty good,” he says. “But, honestly, mine are better.” Then, he presses the knuckle of his index finger gently to the bottom of your chin and kisses you gently - again, so gently it’s barely there, so gently it would have taken just a breath of space for you to pull away if you wanted to.

You don’t; instead you press forward, pressing your lips more firmly against his, your hands coming to rest on his upper arms, feather-light. Behind you, Zinnia begins yipping - loud, insistent, each sharp sound piercing the silence around you.

You pull away from Jin, flushing, pleased to see a smile on his face. “She’s just jealous,” he deadpans.

You roll your eyes, laughing. “Please. She gets to kiss me all the time. She can share.”

Laughing, Jin heads for the dogs, ready to head back down to the cars. “Come on,” he says over his shoulder. “Let’s go get some pretty good burgers.”

–

They are good - better than pretty good, you think, and you tell Seokjin so after a beer and a half at the burger joint’s outdoor patio. The mountain you’d tackled looms in the distance, blue and shadowy.

“I’m telling you, mine are better,” Jin insists. “I have a secret method.”

“Yeah?” You tease. “Taking it to the grave?”

“You say that like it’s a joke,” he says seriously. “But I am.”

On the wooden deck beneath you, Zinnia lays on her side, eyelids fluttering and paws twitching as she dreams.

“We really knocked her out,” you observe.

Jin laughs, reaching his arms over his head to stretch, the movement causing his shirt to ride up just enough to show a slip of belly before it falls back into place. You try not to look, try not to remember kissing him at the mountain’s top.

“That’ll be us in a few hours,” he jokes. “I always knock out after a hike like this.”

“I’m going to be sore for days,” you agree, rubbing your calves in anticipation of the aching muscles you’ll have tomorrow.

“I have a suggestion,” Jin says, voice low. You flush, expecting him to flirt, to offer to rub your tired legs or something suggestive. Instead he says, “You ever try epsom salts?”

You blink at him, bamboozled. You just can’t predict him - he zigs when you expect a zag every damn time.

“I have, yeah,” you finally stammer. “I don’t think I have any left, though.”

“I have a huge bag,” he tells you, finishing the last of his second beer in one long draught. When he sets down his glass he tells you, “I’ll bring you the bag later. It’ll help a lot, I promise.”

You look him over. “You’re a guy with a lot of solutions, huh?”

He coughs, averting his gaze. You notice the tips of his ears turning pink and you hide a smile behind your hand. So cute.

“I try to be solution-oriented, yes,” he mumbles, embarrassed.

There’s no sign of that - the pink ears, the averted eyes, the mumbling - when he shows up at your door about twenty minutes after you arrive home. Zinnia is passed out on the floor behind you, having first lapped up her body weight in water from her silver bowl in the kitchen. As for you, all you’ve managed to do so far is shed your sneakers, your jacket, and the tshirt that had been sticking to your back, leaving you in athletic leggings and a sports bra.

Jin’s gaze sweeps you from head to toe and then settles determinedly on your eyes, like he’s got to work at it. “I brought the epsom salts,” he tells you unnecessarily, holding up the bag.

“I see that,” you murmur, feeling warm under his gaze. “Thanks.”

You reach to take the bag from him, but he tugs back on it a little, effectively pulling you to him. You trip into his arms willingly, ready for it this time when he kisses you.

He walks you backwards into your apartment, out of the threshold, letting the door close behind him. You hit the wall of your entryway, let him cage you in against it, his lips insistent against yours. When he runs a hand softly up your arm, summoning a wave of goosebumps in its wake, you sigh against his lips.

He takes advantage of the opening, teasing your bottom lip with his tongue before venturing further. You open for him happily, leaning back against the wall, reveling in the feeling of his strong arms on either side of you, the feeling of his tongue sliding against your own, the feeling of his hair between your fingers - when had you grabbed his hair?

You kiss him until you’re dizzy, until your legs feel weak beneath you, until you feel his hand travel from between your shoulder blades, to the small of your back, to the side of your ribs.

You break the kiss gently, nearly panting for breath. You can feel Jin’s pulse jumping as he does the same.

You look at each other for a long moment, communicating silently, weighing options.

You could invite him in. He’s here already, Zinnia’s unconscious, you’re holding a bag of bath salts (wait, no, the bag is on the ground - when did you drop it?). But something in your stomach tugs, tells you not yet. So that’s what you tell him, on a whisper, your teeth coming to toy with your swollen bottom lip as soon as the words are out - not yet. I’m sorry.

“Hey,” he says, cupping your cheek with a hand, so soft. “It’s okay. I wasn’t expecting anything. Don’t apologize.”

You glance around the room, desperate for a distraction, but nothing comes. “I, um,” you say, looking anywhere but him, “I think I’m gonna try the salts now. My legs are like jello.”

He gives you a tiny grin, and you roll your eyes. “From the hike!” you protest.

He gives you a playfully disbelieving look but backs off, giving you some space again. “Sure, of course,” he says, smirking.

You bend to pick up the discarded bag, holding it in your hands, feeling along the rubber zipper. Then, you cross Jin’s path and open the front door again, looking up to find him still watching you.

He gives you a playful smile. “I had a nice first date and a half,” he says, losing the fight against a pleased smile.

You huff out a laugh. “This was the half?” you clarify.

“I don’t kiss like that on the first date,” he sniffs in mock indignation.

You giggle, following behind him as he heads to the hallway. “Goodnight, Seokjin. Thanks for the salts. And the date and a half.”

–

You soak away your sore muscles and sleep deeper than you have in months.

Your days continue this way as April’s grey and rainy afternoons give way to sunshine, bright afternoons, trees starting to bud as the temperature grows milder. You meet Jin at the dog run every afternoon unless you text to make different plans - sometimes a walk with the dogs through the park nearby, sometimes dinner out, sometimes dinner in.

Dinner in usually means more kissing.

Sometimes, dinner out does, too.

In retrospect, you should have known. You should have known that as you fall for Seokjin little by little something else must be coming. Things can’t just be bright sunshine and Seokjin’s laugh, Zinnia’s wagging tail and linked fingers under starry skies.

Your brother shows up at your door, unannounced, almost a full month after your first date with Jin.

You almost don’t recognize him; it’s not that you haven’t seen him in that long - you have. It’s just that he’s still a kid in your head, a gangly, acne-prone teenager with earpods and a scowl. The man who stares at you, a rolling suitcase in hand, is in a suit. He looks put-together, and grown.

You say his name nervously, and he sort of grimaces at you.

“Sorry I didn’t call,” he says. “I’ve been on the phone with Mom and the doctors.”

“Doctors?” you echo, backing up to let him inside.

He gives you a look as he wheels his little suitcase inside. You don’t like the look. It says something bad is coming.

“It’s Dad,” he says.

–

You end up going out to grab dinner - you have no groceries to cook him a meal, and you’re a terrible cook anyway.

Your little brother fills you in - that cardiologist appointment over a month ago had ended with a positive outcome. They’d told your parents not to worry, there was no immediate danger, but there were certainly concerns.

Concerns that had worsened in the following month, apparently.

“They’re going to see a cardio team at the hospital here in the city,” your brother explains. “Mom was going to call and explain all of this to you, but I told her I was coming here anyway. She can focus on them - getting a hotel set up, packing, all that stuff. It looks like he’ll probably need surgery - they’ll decide at his appointment tomorrow. If that’s the case, they’ll stay in the city for a little until he’s recovered enough to go home again.”

You feel like you’re in shock; it’s a lot all at once. Your whole family suddenly in your city, under terrible circumstances. Surgery? Heart surgery?

“I’ll get a hotel, too, if it turns out they’ll be here a long time,” he says.

You come back to earth sharply. “You don’t need to do that. You’re welcome with me and Zinnia as long as you need, okay? Seriously. I’ll talk to Mom in the morning. We’ll get everything figured out.”

Just like that, the toughness drops out of him. Somehow he’d been the one your mom had called, the one responsible for relaying the information, the one responsible for making and supporting medical decisions. You’re the elder, it should have been you. As soon as you take the reins again, he folds, pressing his hands to his face and letting out a shuddering breath.

You feel horrible, instantly. He’s the baby, he’s not supposed to have to shoulder the responsibility.

“Hey,” you say softly. “It’s gonna be fine. Dad will be fine. We’ll find out tomorrow what his treatment plan is, and how long they’ll need to stay. You’re fine staying with me, okay? It’ll be okay.”

“Okay,” he says, uncovering his face and reaching for his water glass. “You’re right.” Then, quieter, “You’re right.”

At the end of the meal, walking back to the apartment, you stop near the door and give him a hug, your brave little brother.

“You did well,” you assure him. “Everything’s going to be fine.”

He hugs you back, holding you like he’s been drowning and you’re a buoy. It breaks your heart to think that may sort of be the case.

Neither of you notices Seokjin and Blue pass by, glancing at you curiously over his shoulder on his way into the building.

When he texts you that night, not long after you’ve set your brother up on your couch and crated Zinnia for the night, it’s not entirely unexpected, considering you’d skipped your normal trip to the dog run earlier, and you’d been too spun in circles to text him an explanation.

His message lights up your screen - “missed you earlier. everything ok?”

You hesitate, nibbling at your lower lip as you consider. What could you really tell him right now?

Not really, my baby brother showed up unannounced and emotionally hanging by a thread, and we’re waiting to find out tomorrow if a team of surgeons will be opening my elderly father up for heart surgery.

Not really a text message conversation, right? Honestly, you’re not sure it’s an in-person conversation, either. The relationship - if you can call it that without having discussed exclusivity yet - is still new, blooming, fragile. Is it too much, too soon? Would you be better off telling him later, when things are settled, when you can tie up the story nice and neat?

We had another health scare with my dad, but it’s okay now. He’s recovering.

Isn’t that less heavy? Your problems should not be Seokjin’s to carry, and you know he’ll try to carry them. He’s wonderful that way, always doing. There’s something scared and snappish inside you that wants to keep him far away from this until you’re sure you can look brave, until you’re sure you won’t fall apart in front of him.

In the end you send back, “all good! just got busy. how was your day?”

It strikes you as a little weird that he hasn’t answered by the time you go to bed. But as soon as you’re up the next day, you’re completely focused on your parents. You call them before you’re even out of bed, checking up on where in the city they’re staying, what time your dad’s appointment is. You call out sick from work, glad you hadn’t wasted sick days back when Zinnia was keeping you from sleeping - even though you’d definitely considered it more than once.

You and your brother both go to the cardiologist appointment, you two and your parents squeezing into the little consultation room as the surgeon examines your dad’s results on his computer screen.

Your heart hammers as you wait. You see your mom’s foot tapping, tapping, tapping, and you reach to hold her hand, hoping to comfort her, calm her down.

The surgeon removes his glasses and looks at your father seriously. “I do think surgery is the best course of action,” he says calmly. Your heart drops. The doctor continues, “It’s a pretty routine procedure, as far as these things go. Nothing to worry too much about. I’m confident that a stent will work.”

You lock onto the words minimally invasive, listening eagerly as the doctor continues to outline the plan he thinks will work best.

“I think it’s best to admit you today and schedule the surgery as soon as possible,” you hear the doctor says, and the rest of the day is a blur - signing papers, answering doctors’ questions, running back to your parents’ hotel to throw together a bag of personal items for your dad, running to the cafeteria for a cup of coffee that has been your only meal all day, more papers, waiting room after waiting room after waiting room.

When you finally get home, long after dark, your brother trailing wordlessly behind you, you’re so mentally and physically exhausted, you could cry. Zinnia waits for you in her crate - Ry had luckily been around when you texted, and came to take her outside a few times while you were gone. You let Zinnia out of the crate and collapse on the couch. Your brother takes the recliner, staring at you like you’ve both emerged from a warzone.

As you unwind, try to unclench your brain and your jaw and your shoulders, you think to check your messages. Part of you hopes Jin’s sent you something.

But your messages are empty. Your heart sinks with disappointment. You plan to go to work tomorrow; your dad’s surgery should end midafternoon and you can go straight to the hospital from work. It’s another day that you’ll miss Jin at the dog run. You think about texting him with an explanation, but that last message you sent him still sits there, unanswered, calling you a fool. So, instead, you slide your phone into your pocket and ask your little brother if he wants you to order delivery.

–

It takes you two more days to really get the message - Jin’s silence is deliberate. Your father’s surgery goes well, and if all goes according to plan your family should be heading back home in just a day or two. Crisis handled, on the day after surgery you swallow your pride and send Jin, “Sorry I’ve been MIA - family thing. All good now. What’s new with you?”

Not only does this go unanswered - like the one before - but another three weekdays go by and your trips up to the dog run at 5:15pm remain devoid of company.

Your father heals. Your mother takes him home. Your brother packs up and leaves just a folded up blanket on the couch he’d occupied for almost a week. April turns rainy, like the children’s rhyme says. And you… you slide back into your old routine, sans Seokjin.

You’re sad - of course you’re sad, you liked Jin. He was funny, charming, and so ready to do for you. You’d gotten used to having him around - his windshield wiper laugh, his great cooking, the way he’d carry the same joke or bit with you for a whole day before letting it go, the way the monotony of your day to day seemed interesting again once he was in it.

And you missed Blue, too.

But it wasn’t that deep - not yet. You’re not sobbing, heartbroken, into your pillow or anything. You feel disappointment above all else - disappointment at the loss of what could have been something.

You really do think it could have been something real.

You also feel… confused. What had happened? Had Jin seriously gotten mad at your silence for a few days and just ghosted you? You replay your last few conversations in your head, scour your last few text exchanges for anything that would make sense, but nothing does.

Some little part of your brain niggles, suggests that you’ve been wronged, somehow. That something had happened to you that you didn’t deserve. It’s enough to start just the tiniest flicker of anger, deep in your belly.

Thursday brings rain - relentless, cold, the kind of rain to make you wrap up in a jacket and tell Zinnia to hustle when you bring her upstairs to pee.

For the first time since the day your brother showed up at your door, you run into Jin and Blue. Jin is coming in from outside, both he and Blue soaked from the rain. His jacket sticks to his chest, his drenched hair pushed away from his face. He pauses as Blue shakes the water from her fur, and that’s enough time for your eyes to catch his.

You freeze, not sure what will happen - will he talk to you? Should you say hi?

His face, already blank, somehow slides blanker, like something falls away from it and leaves it even more empty. Then he pulls his gaze away from you, orders Blue to his side with a single, muttered syllable, and turns on his heel to walk to the stairwell at the end of the hall.

He’ll take the stairs, you figure, so he doesn’t have to walk past you to get to the elevator.

That little flicker of anger builds into a flame, and even the mid-April downpour can’t put it out.

–

It rains for days, your apartment cast in grey. You don’t know if it contributes to your mood or if it’s just mirroring it, but you feel grey, too. You quit using the dog run and start taking Zinnie on loops around the block, instead. After her walks, you lay on the couch, cheek pressed against the soft material, dramas playing on the screen without your attention.

Zinnia lays on the floor against the couch, occasionally whining and licking your hand. Sometimes she digs out toys - rubber kongs, plush ducks she’s practically decapitated, rawhides - and drops them at your feet, looking at you hopefully. You toss them for her or play tug each time, but you think she knows your heart isn’t in it.

Later, when you try to remember April, all you can think of is grey and rain.

–

It seems, though, that you’re not the only one who gave up on the dog run. On the first weekend in May, on a day that is - yes - grey, but thankfully not rainy, you run into Jin on the sidewalk a few buildings down from your own.

Blue wags happily when she sees you, but you feel yourself frown, already sliding your gaze to the ground. You don’t want to watch his face go ugly again, like last time. You can’t bear it, you think you might snap. That indignant little flame tickles in your veins.

You have to pass each other unless one of you turns around, so you grit your teeth and push on. It feels like an imminent collision, tension and anxiety building in you the closer and closer you get - and then Zinnia decides to make it an actual collision, zigging sharply towards Blue at the last second, knocking you off-balance right into Seokjin’s space.

His hands take you by the upper arms, steadying you, placing you back on your feet. There’s something tender in his touch, you think, and then you glimpse his face. That blankness again, the flatness nastier than any scowl he could send your way.

His hands are off you quickly, and he’s pushing past you, not a word spoken.

That flame bursts from a tickle to a storm.

“Hey!” you shout, the word tearing from your chest like it had to detach from something, burning up your throat like the burn of liquor. Seokjin turns, that flat expression starting to border on a defensive sneer. “What the hell is your problem?”

Now it is a sneer. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me!” you shout, stomping closer. Zinnia follows, her tail down, sensitive to your tone. “What exactly is the problem, Seokjin? I’m dying to know.”

He opens his mouth to answer you, but you cut him off with a bitter laugh. “No, seriously,” you say, that same bitterness marinating every word. “I’m dying to know. I’ve been trying to figure it out, and I can’t. So please, enlighten me. What did I do?”

Your body sings with adrenaline, your chest heaves with quick breaths as your body tells you it’s ready to fight.

Seokjin lets out a single huff of a laugh. “What did you do?” he echoes sarcastically. “Literally the only thing I consider a hard no.”

You don’t follow. “What?”

He shakes his head, like he can’t believe that you don’t get it. “I saw you hugging that guy,” he says evenly, “and then I texted you to see what -.”

“That was my brother,” you blurt furiously, eyes narrowing. “Is that what this was all about? You didn’t strike me as a jealous, jump-to-conclusions kind of person -.”

“I don’t care about that,” he says over you, tone stoney. “You lied to me - right to my face.”

You stare at him blankly, trying to put the pieces together. He’d seen you hugging your brother, and then he’d texted you “everything ok?” and you’d said… “just busy”. It was a lie, sort of - barely.

You laugh - actually laugh. “You’re out of your mind,” you say coldly. “You dropped me over that? I had things going on that I didn’t want to get into. I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I don’t care,” he says, not cruelly, just truthful. “It was a lie.”

You heave a frustrated breath, casting your gaze at the full clouds above you. “Seokjin,” you say slowly, “you’re not being fair.” It feels suddenly very important to you to defend yourself, to explain it all away - even if he still walks away after, you want to be sure he knows he was wrong. “I wasn’t lying about, like, where I was, or who I was with. It was just… omission. The situation felt… too heavy for whatever this is. Whatever this was,” you amend.

He just looks at you silently, but you can see the changes in his expression - that flatness melting away almost imperceptibly, making way for something chagrined. You take this as a good sign and continue, explaining what had happened - from your brother showing up, to the surgery, to your family heading home again - leaving your space emptier than they’d found it.

Finished, you look at him silently, watching him process. Then, everything off your chest, you move to continue on. You feel, suddenly, like you have nothing else to say to him. “We were just casually dating,” you point out as you take a step away. His ears are red again, but he hasn’t tried to speak. “At no point did I lose the right to choose what to tell you and what to keep to myself. You acted like a child when you could have just communicated with me.”

You give Zinnia a gentle tug and she follows as you head back to the apartment’s front doors. You don’t look back; you don’t think you can.

–

Upstairs, you unclip Zinnia and sink into a kitchen chair, head in your hands. It felt good to yell at him, felt good to find out the reason for his silence. You’d made your peace already with losing him - so why do you feel worse now?

You’re there only minutes when you hear a soft knock on your door. You sigh, knowing exactly who and what it is, and forcing yourself to rise anyway. All the anger you’d felt outside seems to have leaked out of you; now you just feel resigned.

Jin’s ears are still bright red. “You’re right,” he says in greeting. Then, he waits, leaning against the door jamb as you process, as you decide how to respond. Blue stands just behind him patiently, the leash slack.

Mouth twisting, you look at him flatly. “Care to elaborate?”

“Ah,” he utters. He looks embarrassed, one hand still absently on the back of his neck, eyes on the ground. “I owe you an apology.”

When you still say nothing, he continues.

“You’re right - you don’t have to tell me your business. I’d like you to - or, I’d like to feel like you can - but you’re not obligated to. I… overreacted. And then I was being too rigid to look closely at what was going on. I just…”

He trails off and looks at you balefully. “I’m not trying to make an excuse,” he tries to explain. “I know I was wrong. I just made myself a promise years ago to never let anyone lie to me again… hoping I’d never feel so stupid again… and I let it… take over. I’m sorry.”

You consider this, foot tapping nervously. “Okay,” you say finally.

Something hopefully breaks over his face; he moves minutely closer to you. “I feel horrible,” he admits, voice hushed suddenly. “You were going through all that, and I absolutely made more problems for you. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine,” you say, your voice echoing a little flatly to your own ears. “I forgive you.”

He takes a step back, like the unbending insincerity of your words actually knocks him off balance.

“Okay,” he says, his voice somehow small. He starts to back away from your door, Blue scurrying out of his path, but his eyes remain on you. “I’ll, uh… I’ll probably be at the dog run tomorrow? Normal time?”

The way he says it, a question, asks if you will too.

“I don’t know,” you answer, even though he didn’t technically ask. “I don’t know yet. Maybe. We’ll see.”

You agonize over it all night. You’re mad - mad that he reacted childishly, mad that he added stress during a hard time for you, mad that he doubted you and judged you and didn't give you a chance to explain yourself. Mad that he let you down.

But, something logical inside you counters, he’s apologized. He’s taken accountability for it, admitted he’d behaved immaturely. Didn’t people, generally, deserve second chances? Didn’t you want to give him a second chance, regardless?

By the time you get ready for work the next morning, you still aren’t sure. Your stomach churns with indecision all day. When you get home, you sit on the couch, still in your work clothes, and eye Zinnia thoughtfully. She sits and cocks her head to the side, almost quizzical. Like she’s asking, okay, boss, what’s the plan?

You still don’t know. With a sigh, you change out of your office attire and take Zinnia out. At the elevator, you stare at the buttons: physical embodiment of this choice.

In the end, you hit down, taking Zinnie out through the lobby and heading down the street. The idea of Seokjin up at the dog run, eyes on the glass doors - hoping to see you, makes you hunch your shoulders up against a wave of guilt.

You feel like now you’re being the childish one. You know you want to give him another chance. Pretending otherwise just to punish him for hurting you… it’s not a good look, and you know it.

When the knock on your door comes, several hours later, as the sunset casts your apartment in deep blues and shadows, you feel like you were expecting it the whole time. You feel like it’s your own second chance.

“You didn’t come,” he says, frowning adorably.

You sigh, taking a step backwards to let him inside. He does, the door shutting behind him.

“Why are you here?” you ask; not demanding, not to fight - you want to know. You want to know what he’s hoping for right now, what he wants to happen, so that you can decide if you’re game or not.

He seems to understand, seems to hear the question for what it really is. He says your name, still hushed, like if he says it with too much force the letters will blow away like dead autumn leaves in a November squall.

“Well?” you prod.

“Please,” he says, something so desperate playing on the notes of the word.

“What?” you repeat, hating that your voice is choked. “What do you want, Seokjin?”

He closes the space between you, one hand coming to cup your jaw so light you aren’t sure he’s actually touching you or if you just feel the warmth of proximity. “Forgive me,” he whispers. “I want you to let me try again. Let me do better.”

“I don’t know,” you whisper, but you lean into his touch, closing your eyes. He strokes your cheek gently with his thumb, then pulls his hand away and cups the back of your head, guiding you close enough to press his lips to the top of your head, the kiss lost in your hair.

“I promise,” he whispers, “I won’t fuck up like that again. I want to try again - I like you so much, I want to do everything right for you. I feel like such an idiot for wrecking it.”

“You are an idiot,” you say, and you feel him smile against your forehead before he laughs.

“Never again, Jin,” you say sternly, leaning back to look up at him. His hand slides down to the back of your neck, resting comfortably. “I don’t do bullshit like that. We’re adults. We have to communicate. We have to speak -”

Behind you, Zinnia barks once, sharp and proud.

You and Jin both dissolve into giggles, both of you praising Zinnia for following the command.

When you turn back to Jin, he’s looking at you warmly, eyes shining with fondness. He dips his head to kiss you, and when he feels you kiss him back he tugs you closer by the small of your back, grunting into your mouth when your bodies collide.

He breaks the kiss and whispers against your jaw, “Let me show you how sorry I am.”

You let out a breathy sound somewhere between a whimper and a sigh, tilting your head to give him more room as his lips go from whispering his desire to kissing your pulsepoint, teeth barely there before his lips soothe the spot.

You fist your hands in the fabric of his shirt, holding on tight, relying on him to hold you upright as his mouth makes you dizzy. When his lips make it back to yours, you tug on his shirt and walk him backwards towards your open bedroom door. You giggle against his lips when he kicks it shut behind him.

You’re kissing again as you shed layers in tandem, breaking apart to pull shirts over your heads, kissing messily again as you balance on one foot at a time to remove socks, giggling as you lean back to get a good look at him as he undoes his belt. Would it be crass of you to whistle in appreciation? His shoulders are just... so… wide.

When your leggings pool on your carpet next to his blue jeans, he backs you up to the bed, where you sit heavily. He crawls over top of you, mouths clashing again as he holds himself over top of you. You feel like you’re spinning - you cling to his shoulders, focus on the feeling of his tongue sliding against yours, his fingers tracing the outline of your breast, the insistent press of his clothed erection hot against your thighs.

He kisses you like he’s devouring you, like he’s claiming you, like he’s pouring out every frustration into his lips and teeth and fingers and tongue and they’re all spinning you in bigger and bigger circles, ever widening.

Then the spinning crashes to a halt, because his fingers are meandering lower and lower, skimming your last rib, skating over your lower belly, sliding over your cotton panties and hovering just out of reach from where you want him the most.

He presses kisses down your jaw, down your neck, goosebumps rising up your arms as his breath ghosts along your throat. His fingers skim your slit over the damp cotton, making you moan shamelessly against the top of his head, but his hand travels back up, fingers sliding up your stomach and back to your chest.

“Jin,” you breathe, as he rolls your nipple between thumb and forefinger, sending jolts of electric delight clear down to your toes, and he answers you with a low groan before capturing your mouth in another deep kiss.

You’re spinning again.

Then his hand is back where you want it - fuck, you want it everywhere - fingers sliding through your folds before pushing deep into you. You gasp, but your body shifts to meet his knuckles, hips tilting to let him deeper still.

It takes you only minutes before you’re begging for him, unashamed, whispering his name around a litany of please and I need you and more, please, more.

He rolls away from you wordlessly, shifting to dig through his wallet. You hear the telltale sound of foil ripping and then he’s back over top of you, lips marking a path from your stomach, up between your tits, past your collarbones, before latching onto your neck as he gives you exactly what you asked for.

The stretch stings but you don’t care, moving to meet him, to take him all the way. Seokjin buries himself deep with a throaty groan, the sound mingling with your own whine.

He keeps a slow pace at first, content with exploring every new everything - every new sound he can pull out of you, every new spot he can touch that makes you arch your back and moan a little louder, every angle that makes you pitch go high and your nails find his shoulders.

It’s not long before his resolve breaks, his pace quickening as his hips snap into yours, the room filled with the sound of his thighs slapping yours. The tightening ball in the pit of your stomach swells, and your fingers find your clit as you careen towards the edge. Seokjin talks you through it when you crash past the precipice, calling you beautiful, telling you that you feel so good as you clench around him in waves.

Your limbs feel like jelly as you come down from the high, but Seokjin isn’t done with you. He presses kisses to your jaw, your cheek, the space just beneath your ear. Then, he whispers, “Can I go behind you?”

You nod - words are still too far away, slipping just outside of your fingertips. You can touch them, but can’t pull them close enough to use. Jin uses gentle hands to roll you over and backs up to stand next to the bed; he guides your hips backwards until your knees rest on the edge of the mattress. Still boneless, you fold your arms and press your face into them, moaning loudly when he enters you slowly.

At this new angle, you feel like he’s somehow, impossibly, deeper, and it’s all you can do to dig your fingers into the sheets beneath you and survive. His pace is slow for only a moment, letting you adjust, and then he’s pounding into you again, hands tight on your hips, pulling you backwards to meet each thrust.

You can tell it immediately when he’s close - the sounds spilling out of him turn from deep grunts and quiet gasps to lengthier sounds that verge on whiny. You gasp in time with him as he pumps into you more shallowly, barely pulling out at all, as one last strangled, broken sound leaves his mouth.

You collapse forward onto the bed the second he releases you, your heart hammering. Behind you, he must be handling the condom because when he flops next to you, eyes searching for yours, it’s gone.

“Hi,” he says, smiling.

You laugh. “Hello there.”

He rolls onto his back next to you, radiating happiness. “So?” he asks your ceiling. “Am I forgiven?”

You roll your eyes, but you can’t erase the smile from your face. Oxytocin is a bitch. “I guess,” you allow. “But you’re on thin ice for a while.”

He makes a thinking sound. “I’ll have to fix that,” he muses, one arm thrown over his head. He looks over at you. “How about you go shower, and I’ll cook you something?”

You twist your lips, considering. “Mmm,” you say. “I think I’d rather you join me in the shower first.”

His smile grows impossibly wider, and his hand creeps to find yours, his fingers lacing between yours and squeezing tight.

–

When you think about May, you remember pink.

Pink flowers blooming on the trees outside. Pink sunsets as you and Jin walk Blue and Zinnia through the park in the evenings. The pink of Zinnia’s tongue, lolling out of her mouth as she pants happily at your feet. The pink of Seokjin’s ears when you tease him or call him handsome in front of your friends.

You started things slowly - even slower than the first time; you’re nervous that something will happen again, that this second chance was indeed a mistake. But, true to his word, Seokjin shows up for you every day - he misses no chance to remind you that he’s here, and he’s got a score to settle with his past mistakes.

As the month comes to a close, spring teasing at tepid summer, you make a decision. You head to Seokjin’s place before dinner, as you do most evenings lately, letting yourself in with the door’s code. Blue is resting on a dog bed near the kitchen, placed there so she can see Seokjin even when he’s cooking and doesn’t feel lonely out in the living room. Zinnia slips through your hands the second the door opens, zipping into the apartment wildly.

“Zinnie!” you call.

Seokjin’s voice carries out to you from the bedroom - “Yeah?”

You laugh, shutting the door behind you and heading to where you’d heard him from. “I said Zinnie, not Jinnie!” you clarify.

He comes out of the room, laughing at the miscommunication, pausing to kiss your cheek. “How was your day?” he asks, before heading around you into the kitchen, where he had apparently been halfway through chopping some veggies.

“It was fine,” you hedge. “There’s something I was thinking about today, though.”

“Oh?” he says, looking over his shoulder at you as he picks up where he left off with the chopping.

You lean over the kitchen table, palms a little sweaty with nerves. Below you, Zinnia zips around, chasing a rubber ball of Blue’s, barking loudly as if scolding the toy for fleeing.

“I was thinking about us,” you say slowly, and Seokjin stills, setting down the knife and turning to face you, sensing that this talk is serious. His ears tinge pink almost instantly.

“Okay…” he says slowly.

You take a deep breath and push forward. “I was thinking about how I asked if we could do this slowly. How we were taking it one day at a time, not putting a name to it or anything.”

He nods, eyes on you, listening.

You shrug, look away and lick your lips. “I think I’m ready - I think what I want is…”

Behind you, Zinnia’s repeated yaps overtake the room, echoing through Jin’s kitchen.

You try to speak over her, stumbling over your words. “What I’m trying to ask you is… will you…”

Zinnia’s barks get louder; the ball is stuck under the couch and she is pissed. You turn, calling to her, “Zinnia, sit!”

The command works. She plops onto her butt obediently, and silence descends on the room like a sprinkle of snow.

You turn back to Jin, heart racing, to finish your question. “...stay?”

Thank you so much for reading! <3 Please look forward to the other fics in the collab and support those excellent writers as well!!!

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ichorai · 1 year

Text

blueberries ; two.

pairing ; joey tribbiani x gn!reader chapter synopsis ; the one with hockey pucks, double dates, and blackouts. wc ; 5.8k warnings / includes ; talks of sex/suggestive content, mild cursing, joey being an idiot

series masterlist. main masterlist.

The brightness of the hospital’s buzzing white lights made your head pound, and you quickened your pace until you were jogging down the hall to the waiting room. There, you saw Ross, Joey, and Chandler. The former two were wearing a variety of Hockey merch, and Ross was wearing his regular attire, though accompanied with a slightly crooked nose and a busted lip.

“Oh, my God, Ross!” you exclaimed, rushing to the trio. You gave Ross a quick hug, before pulling away to inspect the damage up close. “What happened? Are you okay? Sorry, I just got your voicemail when I got back from work and I came here as soon as I could.”

“Oh, it’s okay. I’m feeling a bit better now—or that might just be because of nerve damage. I don’t know,” Ross simpered, cradling a hockey puck in his hands. “This hit me in the face at the game.”

“Man, that must’ve hurt. You sure you’re okay? Where’s Monica and the girls?”

Ross lifted his shoulder in a shrug. “They were having a slumber party and I didn’t want to bother them. I knew you wouldn’t be doing anything important tonight, so I left you a message instead.”

A mild scowl danced over your features. “Gee, thanks, Ross. I mean, you’re right, but you didn’t have to say it.” You swung your gaze to Chandler and Joey, who looked just as tired as Ross was, if not more so. “What happened to you guys?”

“Ross wouldn’t stop talking about his… first time consummating with Carol,” Chandler groaned, pulling at the skin of his face in frustration. “Yes, the moon, the glow, the magical feeling of an orgasm, we get it! Could I get some painkillers over here, please?”

Joey nodded his agreement. “He’s right, enough already! What’s the big deal about today, anyway? So you slept with her for the first time today—you slept with her for seven whole years after that!”

Curious, you sank down into a chair beside Ross, regarding him with narrowed eyes.

“It’s just… a little more complicated than that.”

“Well, what is it?” asked Chandler. “That she left you? That she likes women? That she left you for another woman that likes women?”

Ross shot his friend a half-hearted glare. “A little louder, I think there’s a man on the twelfth floor in a coma who didn’t quite hear you!” Swallowing slightly, he sighed out, “My first time with Carol was… It was…”

You placed a comforting hand on his knee. “It was your first time ever?” you asked sympathetically.

Pursing his lips to the side, Ross nodded.

Chandler and Joey appeared shocked. “Oh,” they both murmured at the same time.

“So, in your entire life, there’s only been one—?” Chandler began, almost timidly.

“Man, hockey was a big mistake,” piped Joey. “There’s a whole bunch of other things we could’ve done tonight!”

Before you could reply with a scathing remark, a doctor called out Ross’ name, and he got up and quickly scampered away, most likely embarrassed to no end.

You gave Joey’s shoulder a shove once he was completely out of sight. “Can you at least be a little empathetic for him? No wonder he was being extra mopey today—he must feel awful about it.”

“I just can’t believe he’s only been with Carol,” Joey said, still stunned, and feeling a bit guilty.

“I think it’s great,” said Chandler. “It’s sweet. It’s romantic.”

You cocked your head at him incredulously. “Really?”

“God, no, he’s a total freak!”

“Oh, piss off, Chandler. What does it matter if he’s only been with one person? Body count doesn’t matter at all, you know,” you hissed, still feeling particularly sensitive about the whole ordeal with the waitress and how she had used you as a homewrecker.

Joey rubbed your shoulder in a placating manner, and you placed your hand on top of his with a reassuring smile.

Chandler watched the interaction, narrowing his eyes. “What’s with you two lately?”

“What?” the two of you both said at once. His hand fell away from yours.

“I don’t know, you guys just both seem off. Did something happen? Did you sleep together or something?”

“No!” you said, a bit too quickly, wrinkling your nose. Technically you did sleep with him, just not in the way Chandler was insinuating. “No, Joey just helped me out with some personal things. It’s no big deal.”

Before Chandler could ask more about it, Ross walked back out to the waiting room, and you bolted out of the chair, quickly grabbing Ross’ arm and leading him out of the hospital.

The next morning, you strode into the cafe with droopy eyes, yawning behind a fist, plopping down on the sofa between Phoebe and Chandler. The group was discussing… bras? Honestly, you were too tired to comprehend what they were talking about, so you just nodded along and stole sips from Phoebe’s mug of coffee.

“You know what actually blows my mind?” said Joey. “Women can see breasts anytime they want!”

“Jo, honey, men have breasts, too,” you put forth, a bit more awake now that you’ve had some coffee. “Just because they’re flat doesn’t mean they’re not there.”

He sighed dreamily. “I wish I had ‘em. Just look down, and there they are! How any of you get work done is beyond me.”

“You know what I wanna know? How guys can say such mean things and not even care,” said Phoebe, playing with the silver rings on her fingers.

The group fell into silence, before Ross snapped his fingers. “Multiple orgasms!”

By now, you’d completely lost track of where the conversation had gone, so you fished out a book from your bag and began reading, shifting so that Phoebe could lean against you as you read.

“Chandler, nobody likes breaking up with someone,” reasoned Monica.

“What?” You put your book down. “You’re breaking up with Janice?”

“Yeah,” he said, in a rather off-putting manner. “Didn’t know I had to tell you everything since you don’t bother with telling the rest of us about yourself.”

You blinked, sitting upright so quickly that Phoebe’s head slipped from your shoulder and she nearly face-planted into the couch.

“What’s he talking about, Y/N?” asked Ross, looking worried.

Your eyes shifted to briefly meet Joey’s concerned ones, but you averted your gaze to the ground shamefully.

“Look, I’m sorry if I made you feel left out in any way, Chandler. I’m just not really comfortable telling the entire group right now. Is that okay?”

“Oh, honey, it’s okay,” said Phoebe from beside you, rubbing your knee in reassurance. “Take all the time you need.”

A bit dejected, Chandler nodded his head. “Yeah, I get that. Sorry if I was being too pushy. I just wanna make sure you’re okay, that’s all.”

A hint of a smile tugged the corner of your lips upward. “I’m okay, Chandler. I promise. But what’s this about Janice?”

He sighed, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly. “It’s just so hard to break up with her! I mean, I’m sitting there, and she’s got no idea what’s happening… then there’s that awkward moment after I’ve handed her the note. Blurgh!” He shivered at the thought of it.

“Why do you have to break up with her?” Joey postulated. “Just stop calling. Simple.”

It was then that a beautiful blonde woman in a form-fitting red dress strode into the cafe, heels clacking loudly against the wooden floors. You blinked—she looked so familiar—

“Hi, Joey,” she said flippantly as she passed by the couches, before taking a seat by the island.

Once she was far enough not to be within earshot, Joey’s eyes widened and he whisper-yelled, “Holy shit, Angela.”

Right, Angela.

“Wow,” said Monica, craning her neck to try and get a good look at her. “Being dumped by you obviously agrees with her.”

“Are you gonna go over there?” Phoebe asked.

“No!” said Joey. He looked back to her by the island. “Yes—no! Okay, but not yet. I don’t wanna seem too eager.”

You frowned when he started counting down the seconds under his breath. Not even five seconds later, he was already on his feet, off to speak to Angela.

Rolling your eyes, you opened up your book back up again and began reading.

By the counter, Joey was perched on the seat beside Angela, inches away from her.

“Forget it, Joey, I’m with Bob now!” said the blonde.

“Bob? Who the hell’s Bob?”

“Well, Bob is great. He’s smart, sophisticated, and he’s got a real job! You, on the other hand, you go on three auditions a month and call yourself an actor! But Bob—”

Joey huffed, leaning closer to her. Her perfume was a bit too strong, and he could feel his eyes welling up from the sting, but he blinked the tears away. “Come on, Angela. We were great together. And not just at the fun stuff, but like, talking too!”

“Sorry, Joey. You said you wanted to be friends, and I respected that. And I could tell you had feelings for someone else while we were dating. Your heart just wasn’t in it!” Suddenly, she grabbed her purse, eager to get away from her ex as quickly as she could.

“Alright—so why don’t the four of us go out and have dinner tonight? Like a double date, or something,” Joey said, immediately regretting the words as soon as they came out of his mouth. Who the hell was going to be the fourth person?

It seemed the same exact thing was going through Angela’s head, because she stopped in her tracks, turning back to Joey with quirked brows. “What ‘four of us’?”

“You and Bob, and me and my… uh, partner…” He glanced back to the sofa, where you were curled up to the side, nose buried in your book as you pretended like you were listening to Phoebe recounting how she once met an elf beneath a bridge. “My partner, Y/N. Yeah.”

—

Joey followed you around your kitchen as you made yourself lunch, looking ready to drop down to his knees and beg. Honestly, you weren’t even listening to what he was asking, but you thought it was funny how desperate he was.

“I’m telling you, this guy is perfect for you!”

You cocked a brow, flipping over the egg you were frying, before moving to grab spices. He was in the way of the cabinets, and refused to budge, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Ugh, Joey, I’m done going on double dates with you! Especially not after your dumb cousin who thought it was attractive to burp the alphabet right before we ate.” With a derisive huff, you placed your hands on his shoulders and firmly moved him to the side so you could grab the spices for your lunch. “Why don’t you ask Monica or something? I know she’s still looking for new men to sink her teeth into.”

“Well… I kinda sorta told Angela that you’d be comin’ already.”

You threw your hands up in the air. “Now why on earth would you do that?”

“Come on!” Joey pleaded, clasping his hands together. “This guy’s great, I promise. His name’s Bob, and he’s Angela’s… brother. He’s smart, sophisticated, and he has a real job! Unlike me, goin’ on three auditions a month and calling myself an actor. Please! I’m asking for a favor, here. I’m thinking if I do this for her brother, then Angela might come back to me.”

Biting down on your bottom lip, you turned to fully face him, surprised to see him so close to you. “What’s going on here, Joey? Before you saw Angela today you probably haven’t even thought about her since you dumped the poor girl. You sure you’re not jumping into something you really shouldn’t?”

Joey shook his head firmly. “Seeing her again made me realize that I made a huge mistake. I never should’ve broken up with her. Will you help me? Please?”

A moment of silence stretched thin between the two of you.

You blew out a long sigh. “You owe me one.”

“I’ll owe you a million.”

God, he was giving you that look. The one where his eyebrows would divot and his eyes went all wide and pleading and his lips would pout ever so slightly. You frowned.

“Fine.”

Joey enveloped you into a crushing hug, pressing a sloppy kiss to your cheek while exclaiming his thanks. You groaned in mock-disgust, wiping away the kiss and slapping his chest so he’d let go of you.

When you turned back to the stove, your egg had already burned.

That night, Joey had showed up to your apartment about five minutes before the double date in a casual grey suit, fiddling with a tie hanging loosely around his neck. “Help me with this?” he asked as soon as you had opened the door, walking in to stand in front of the nearest mirror.

Rolling your eyes to the ceiling, you grabbed him by the shoulders and turned him to you, knotting the silky fabric neatly before patting his chest with satisfaction.

“You clean up nice,” he told you sincerely, gaze flicking up and down your form. “I can’t remember the last time I’ve seen you in something that wasn’t jeans.”

You glared at him. “Hey, at least I’m not the one that still doesn’t know how to tie a tie.”

Grinning, Joey pecked your cheek once again. “Thanks again for doin’ this. You’re really gonna like this guy, I promise.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever, hot shot. Let’s just go.”

“Is that new perfume you’re wearing?” he asked as the two of you stepped out. He leaned down to sniff you while you were locking the door, and you swatted him away with a laugh. “I like it. Smells like blueberries.”

“Thanks,” you told him with a cheeky smile. “I got it at the dollar store for three bucks.”

He laughed, before ushering you along, his hand hovering over your lower back.

The two of you left your apartment at a relatively slow pace considering that you were already a little late to the date. Joey hailed a cab, and you were on your way to the fancy restaurant that Angela had picked.

Oh, man, he was hot. At least Joey wasn’t wrong about you liking this guy. Though, you did find it a bit weird how Angela was batting her eyelashes at her brother in a strangely seductive manner and kept pressing her breasts up against his arm. You weren’t one to judge, though, so you kept your mouth shut and smiled politely.

“So, uh, where did you guys grow up?” You wanted to gag. You absolutely abhorred small talk.

“Brooklyn Heights,” said Angela just as Bob replied with, “Cleveland.”

You were suddenly interested, taking a sip from your glass. “Oh, wow. I know what that’s like—a separated family is tough,” you said.

The two across from you looked at you strangely, as if you’d grown horns out of your head. Angela looked like she wanted to say something, but Joey cleared his throat before she could, steering the conversation away to the food they were eating.

Weird.

Now that you thought about it, Bob had barely even looked your way since you came. You weren’t sure if you should’ve been offended or if something else was going on that Joey wasn’t telling you.

A while later, you excused yourself to go to the bathroom, and Angela was quick to stand up as well, linking arms with you with a sweet smile and leading you away.

“So… Bob, huh?” you said once the two of you were in the bathroom. “He seems like a great guy.”

“He is, isn’t he?” Angela said almost breathlessly, pulling out a tube of lipgloss from her purse and began touching up on her makeup.

“It’s nice to meet a guy who’s smart and funny and has an emotional age beyond eight!” you said, mirroring her by fixing up your makeup as well.

The blonde turned to you with a bashful grin. “You wanna know something else? He’s unbelievable in bed!”

You blinked.

God damn it, Joey.

Either this was a sick, twisted case of incest between siblings, or… or Joey lied to you.

You weren’t entirely sure which you preferred it to be.

“Oh, that’s…” Your words trailed off and you forced a wide, unnatural smile. “I’m gonna go talk to Joey for a second, alright?”

You rushed out of the bathroom so quickly that you didn’t catch her confused expression on the way out. Storming back up to the table, you grabbed Joey’s arm and shot Bob a sickly sweet grin.

“Sorry, I’m just going to steal him for a minute. Urgent matters!” you called over your shoulder as you tugged a frazzled Joey along. “You lied to me, Jo. You told me Bob was Angela’s brother!”

Considering he was an actor, Joey was a terrible liar. “They are—he is!”

You crossed your arms, scowling at him.

“Alright, fine,” he relented. “Look, I’m not proud of this, okay?”

“Fuck,” you cursed under your breath. “Listen, Jo, if you had just told me the truth, I still would’ve come with you, you know. Not only did you use me, but you just had to lie to me, too. Did you really think I was stupid enough not to notice? She’s got her goddamn tongue in his ear, for crying out loud!” You gestured emphatically to the couple, who were practically climbing on top of each other at this point. You made a noise of disgust, before rummaging in your bag for your wallet and shoving a twenty dollar bill into his chest.

“Here’s some money for the food. I’m leaving.”

“No, wait, come on, Y/N—” His hand wrapped around your wrist just as you began walking to the restaurant’s exit.

Freezing in your tracks, you didn’t bother shaking him away, nor did you wait to hear him out.

“Please, let me go, Joey,” you whispered in a fragile tone. “I just want to go home.”

Reluctant, Joey let you go.

“Y/N, I’m sorry—”

You didn’t spare him a glance as you just about bolted out of the restaurant, a film of tears welling over your eyes.

The next day, you trotted down to Central Perk, greeting Ross and Phoebe on the couches, and ordered a drink to-go.

“Hey, guys,” you said as you dropped into a seat across from them.

The pair waved at you. Phoebe’s eyes widened. “Oh, how’d the double date go? Joey didn’t say anything about it when we were all here yesterday. In fact, he was kind of looking off… oh, no, did something bad happen? I knew I sensed bad energy yesterday!”

You pursed your lips to the side. “Yeah, it didn’t really go that well. Joey told me the guy I was supposed to be on a blind date with was Angela’s brother, but in reality, he was her boyfriend, and he was just using me to get his ex back.”

“He what?” Ross practically screeched. “I’m gonna kill him. I’m—”

As if on cue, Joey and Chandler sauntered into the cafe, loudly discussing the difference between jelly and jam.

When Joey’s eyes landed on you, he visibly brightened, rushing over to the couches.

“Y/N, I—”

“What the hell’s wrong with you?” Ross bit out, abruptly getting up to stand between you and Joey. “How could you use Y/N like they were just one of your side pieces? They’re one of your best friends, Joey. They’re one of my best friends—not just some person you can throw away after a date.”

Chandler doubled in shock. “Did I just walk into a Spanish soap opera? What’s going on?”

“That was really shitty of you, Joey,” Phoebe added scathingly.

“I know,” Joey said, carding a hand through his hair. “Please, can I just talk to you, Y/N? Alone?”

Before Ross or Phoebe could intervene again, you nodded, more out of pity than anything. After storming out of the restaurant yesterday, you had quite a bit of time to cool down. Sure, you were still angry at him, but definitely not as much as last night.

“I’m sorry,” he said when the two of you had moved to a more secluded part of the cafe. “I’m so sorry—I didn’t know what I was thinkin’. I just got so hellbent on getting Angela back that I completely became a total jerk about it. I don’t even really like her all that much, it just rubbed me the wrong way when I found out that she was doing so much better without me. I’m sorry for dragging you into it—and lying to you. You didn’t deserve any of that. I care about you a lot, and I would never want to hurt you.”

A part of you didn’t want to forgive him. You wanted to smack his stupidly handsome, pleading face and tell him to kiss your ass.

But you couldn’t.

“Oh, Jo,” you sighed, burying your face into your palms. “You can’t just… you can’t do that ever again. I trust you a lot, Joey. Yesterday really made me wonder if I was an idiot for giving you that trust. I don’t know if this makes me an even bigger idiot, but I still trust you.”

“I’m really sorry,” he parroted, spreading his arms out. “I’ll buy you a million movie tickets, or I’ll never steal from your fridge ever again, or I’ll come with you to those boring art museums you like so much, just—please don’t be mad at me anymore.”

You really couldn’t resist, looping your own arms over his waist, cheek resting against his shoulder. “Ugh, just shut up. I’m still really mad at you, but… I forgive you. Promise never to lie to me like that ever again.”

“I promise,” he said, pulling away to make sure you were looking him straight in the eye.

“Okay,” you huffed, a grin tugging at the corner of your lips. “God, stop being so serious, Joey. I swear, you look like you’re about to cry.”

The man across from you sniffled a little. “Well, sorry if the thought of losing one of my best friends makes me just a little sad!”

You roped him into another warm hug, patting his back comfortingly.

When the two of you parted, both wearing reflective beams, you began walking back to the couches with his hand laced in yours. The group was now pretending as if they hadn’t been listening to your entire conversation—Ross scrambled to pick up a magazine and was reading it upside down, Chandler began counting on his fingers, and Phoebe turned to her side and started talking to thin air.

You stifled a laugh, sinking into the couch. “You guys can stop pretending like you weren’t eavesdropping now.”

“Oh, thank God,” exclaimed Chandler. “I was getting really tired of counting how many fingers I had.”

It was around a week after your little spat with Joey, the two of you were right back to your normal, light-hearted relationship. You sat beside him on Monica’s couch, having just lit up a bunch of candles to luminate the dark apartment. The entire city was in a blackout, and you weren’t too keen on getting back to your apartment in the pitch darkness.

The entire group was there, as well, save for Chandler, who was apparently stuck in an ATM vestibule with Jill Goodacre. You would’ve been worried for him, but he sounded perfectly excited to be in such a confined space with a beautiful woman, so you weren’t too concerned.

“Okay, okay,” said Monica, snapping you out of your reverie. “Senior year of college, on a pool table.”

Both you and Joey oohed with teasing smiles as Rachel raised her eyebrows in surprise. “Pool table? That must’ve been uncomfortable!”

“My weirdest place would have to be… the women’s room on the second floor of the New York City Public Library.” Joey crossed his arms and grinned, looking mighty proud of himself.

“Really? What were you doing in a library?” you scoffed. Joey pinched your thigh in response and you slapped his hand away with a laugh. “What about you, Pheebs?”

“Milwaukee,” the blonde responded, smiling.

The rest of you bobbed your heads awkwardly, before Ross piped up, “Mine would be Disneyland, 1989. It’s a small world after all.”

The group whooped raunchily. “My God, Ross!”

“Yeah, the ride broke down, so Carol and I went behind a couple of those mechanical children.”

You grimaced. “Ugh, too much information, Ross. Did you get in trouble?”

There was a mischievous gleam in his eye as he responded, “There’s a reason why I’m not allowed in the Magic Kingdom anymore.”

You dissolved into laughter, before straightening yourself. “I’d say my craziest would be… on a piano after a concert. Let’s just say—he was really good with his fingers.”

With a gasp, Rachel swatted your arm in a giddy fashion. “Who was it, who was it?”

“Sorry, I don’t kiss and tell,” you said, miming locking your lips shut and throwing the key away.

Joey rolled his eyes. “I think you were doing a lot more than just kissing.”

The rest of the group snickered, and you shoved him lightly. “What about you, Rachel?”

The brunette scratched her neck sheepishly. “What? I already went.”

“No, you didn’t,” said Monica. “Come on, Rach, tell us!”

Sighing begrudgingly, Rachel puckered her lips to the side in thought. “Alright, uh, the weirdest place would have to be… the foot of the bed?”

“We have a winner!” exclaimed Joey with a wide smile.

“I don’t know, I’ve just never had that kind of relationship with someone. You know, where you have to have somebody right there in the middle of a theme park? Or—or on a piano, or a pool table. See, Barry wouldn’t even kiss me on a miniature-golf course. He said we were holding up the people behind us,” she said, expression dropping.

Phoebe placed a warm hand on her shoulder. “Barry was an asshole!” You nodded along in agreement, raising a glass of apple juice at her words.

“I don’t know… do you guys think there are people who just go through life without…” She gestured emphatically, looking unsure of herself.

“Probably,” said Ross. “But I’ll tell you what—passion is way overrated. Eventually, it kind of burns out. But hopefully what you’re left with is trust and security, and, well in my case—lesbianism.”

Joey guffawed, and you choked on your juice mid-sip.

Tentative, you began speaking up, “Yeah, Rach, sometimes love or sex doesn’t have to be loud and extravagant or reckless or whatever. It can just be there, you know? It’s not bad to have quiet love, too. The kind where you’re comfortable to be silent around each other.”

“You’re right,” said Rachel, deep in thought. “I’m going to the bathroom—I’ll be right back.”

Monica and Phoebe also got up from their seats, stretching out their tensed muscles. “We’re going to go sit out on the balcony—it’s not often we get to see the city in complete darkness.”

“I’m staying here,” you murmured contentedly, just about melting against the cushions. Joey brought your legs up to rest over his own and you grinned at him.

The two women looked at each other knowingly, before ducking out through the window to the balcony. Ross stayed back too, fiddling with his fingers.

“It’s never going to work, you know,” Joey told him.

“What? What’re you talking about?” he asked, miffed.

“You and Rachel,” he replied in a hushed whisper, rubbing his hand over your knee. You hummed pleasantly, shutting your eyes—Joey had no doubt that you were already completely knocked out. “I know you like her.”

There was a beat of silence. “Wh… why don’t you think it’ll work out?” queried Ross.

“Because you’ve waited too long to ask her out, and now you’ve been friend-zoned!” replied Joey.

Ross narrowed his eyes. “That’s rich, coming from you.”

“Huh? What are you talking about?” Joey said, furrowing his brows.

“Nothing, nevermind.” The tall man waved his friend away. “I’m not in the friend-zone!”

“No, Ross, you’re like the mayor of the zone!”

Frowning, Ross shook his head vehemently. Frustration wove tightly through his words like vines. “I’m taking my time, okay? I’m laying down the groundwork. Every day I get a little bit closer to—”

“Priesthood!” exclaimed Joey, wincing when you shifted, mumbling in your sleep. “Face it, Ross, if you don’t ask her out soon, you’ll end up stuck in the zone forever.”

“I will,” he emphasized, more like he was convincing himself than Joey. “I’m just waiting for the right moment.”

Joey spread his arms out with an incredulous expression. “What’s keeping you? The wine? The candles? The moonlight? You just gotta go up to her and—”

It was then that Rachel came out of the bathroom, cooing when she caught sight of you curled up on the couch, sleeping soundly.

Joey shot Ross a meaningful look, and the taller man rose from the sofa. “Hey, Rach, can I talk to you in the kitchen for a second?”

“Oh, sure,” she replied, a bit confused, but followed him away from the living room.

That left just you and Joey on the couch, and he sighed, glancing down at you, basking in the gentle glow of the moonlight. Shadows arched over your features, softened with slumber. A strange feeling curled up within his gut—one that he couldn’t recall ever feeling before. It clutched over his rib cage and wound itself over his lungs, leaving his breaths tight and uneven. He reached out to brush a stray tendril of hair away from your face, tucking it behind your ear.

One of your eyes cracked open and you groggily propped yourself up on an elbow. “Why’re you staring at me?”

That feeling in Joey’s gut seemed to intensify, and he squirmed in uncomfort.

“You’re just…” he started, narrowing his eyes as he searched for the right words.

“I’m just…?”

“You just… really make me happy,” he finally said, unsure if that was what he wanted to say. Dissatisfaction scratched down his throat but he swallowed it down.

A cheeky grin painted itself across your lips. “Okay, you big sap. You make me happy, too.” You shifted your position so you could rest your head on his shoulder, already drifting off to sleep again.

By the time you woke up, the city was still shrouded in complete darkness, but there was a new stranger in Monica’s apartment. Rachel introduced him to you as Paolo, who lived a couple stories below, and you flinched in surprise when he had taken your hand and placed a soft kiss.

God, he was practically eye-fucking you on the spot!

You nodded uncomfortably, pulling away to stand behind Joey, who crossed his arms in an almost protective manner.

“So, uh, what’s Paolo doing here?”

“Well, we found his cat wandering on the balconies and we brought it to him!” said Rachel, clapping her hands together. You noted with mild interest that Ross had angry red claw marks down one side of his face.

For the rest of the night, Rachel was all over Paolo, and Monica and Phoebe were fawning over him for the side.

“Gosh, just look at his face! I just wanna bite his bottom lip, you know?” Phoebe had told you, eyes glimmering.

You blinked. “I don’t, but, thanks for telling me, Pheebs!”

Rachel rushed to you with fluttering hands and a smile so wide that it was a wonder her face didn’t split into two. Paolo was by the window, watching the moon with a dazed expression—alright, maybe you could kind of see where the appeal came from.

“The first time he smiled at me—those three seconds were more exciting than three weeks in Bermuda with Barry! I mean, I know it’s totally superficial and we have nothing in common and we don’t even speak the same language, but, God!”

“Man, you’re horny,” you commented, which earned you a sharp glare from her. You raised your hands backing away. “Go get him, tiger!”

A couple hours later, the entire group was back on the couches (plus Paolo), and the last candle was on its way to burning out.

Phoebe began counting down, but Joey blew it out in exasperation, which made you glare at him—not that he could see it.

“Kinda spooky without the lights on, huh?” he whispered into your ear, and you nearly screamed at the sudden ticklish sensation of his fingers prodding your side. You tried smacking his shoulder, but because as you couldn’t see a single thing, you ended up slapping his face a little too hard, and he doubled over, a strained noise wrangling out of his throat.

Conveniently, the lights began to slowly flicker on. The group gasped, but you just assumed that they were surprised to see Joey in pain.

You cradled Joey’s face in your hands, checking if you did any lasting damage. You promptly let go of him when he appeared to be just fine, saying, “Oh, don’t be such a baby, Jo.”

When you finally looked up, you realized the true reason why the group had gasped.

Rachel and Paolo were heavily making out against the wall, looking ready to tear each other’s clothes right off.

“Oh,” you said, not really surprised at all. “Paolo lost his cat and suddenly he got an entire new pussy.”

The group burst into laughter at your comment, which made Rachel flip you off, not even bothering to break the kiss. She led him into her room and slammed the door behind her.

“Lights are back on—I should get going home,” you said, getting up from your seat and moving to the door.

The rest of the friends chimed their goodbyes, but Joey was quick to protest. “Wait, uh, what if the lights turn back off? I don’t want you going home all alone in the dark.”

You stopped in your tracks, tilting your head. “I don’t live that far, it’s only a couple blocks—”

“Just stay at my place for the night,” he said, leading you to the door. “You can leave first thing in the morning, when it’s bright out.”

“You sure? I don’t wanna impose on you and Chandler or anything. Speaking of Chandler, I hope he’s doing okay,” you said, suddenly remembering that he was still stuck somewhere with Jill Goodacre. Yeah, he was definitely more than okay.

“Yeah, I’m sure Chandler’s fine,” replied Joey. “But yeah, I’m also sure I want you to stay—besides, my bed’s too big for just one person, you know?”

Rolling your eyes, you patted his chest, before walking across the hall and into his apartment. Teasingly, you said, “If you wanted me to sleep with you, you could’ve just asked, Jo. No funny business, though, right?”

“Yeah,” he choked out, a bit delayed before following you in. “No funny business.”

#joey tribbiani x reader #friends fanfiction #joey tribbiani fanfiction #joey tribbiani fluff #joey tribbiani angst #joey tribbiani smut #rachel green x reader #rachel green angst #rachel green fluff #rachel green smut #joey tribbiani imagines #joey tribbiani drabbles #rachel green imagines #rachel green drabbles #friends x reader #friends joey x reader #friends rachel x reader

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thefiresofpompeii · 5 months

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the impossible leninist church as yet another one of the twelfth doctor's mirrors

these two shots from before the flood come back to back. one after the other

he is unwavering faith and belief in the impossible and repentance and strict moral code and guilt and confession and trust and foresight and transcendence and surrender

he is rationality and control and conscience and materialism and skepticism and historicity and atheism and truth and dignity and survival and victory (the red block lettering on the poster says "pobedim" — "we will be victorious")

the friend inside the enemy and the enemy inside the friend. the scientist and the magician. the priest and the folk hero and the reluctant politician. call him doctor dialectics

cinematography as communication!

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trans-canadiantrain · 14 days

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Doctor Whos based on how they'd handle the situation in "Boom!"

First Doctor - blows up instantly. No way he'd be able to balance on one leg for that long. He's frail, no fault of his. However Kastarion 3 is getting destroyed for sure

Second Doctor - difficult to be sure. He's very good at pretending to be the fool to disarm his opponents, but not as good when put into vulnerable situations. Kastarion 3 might be doomed if he tries to calm himself down via recorder.

Third Doctor - note perfect. Absolute state of mental clarity, never raises his heart rate a beat. Figures out the truth about Kastarion 3 in minutes, Jo doesn't even get shot.

Fourth Doctor - if he's got Harry Sullivan he's in good shape, otherwise things might get a bit hazy. Solid chance he gets too mad at religion and blows up due to the rising blood pressure

Fifth Doctor - Wildly unsuccessful in controlling his emotions. Kastarion 3 is doomed.

Sixth Doctor - assumes he's too clever to blow up; blows up

Seventh Doctor - performs the episode almost exactly as Fifteen did, only for a final flourish he somehow also manages to kill Margaret Thatcher

Eighth Doctor - too romantic, sobs too hard when his companion gets shot, blows sky high

War Doctor - The War Doctor is in a Boom-esque situation every other weekend. He'll be fine.

Ninth Doctor - gets through it eventually but his Time War guilt is about 90% responsible for the countdown continuing every time the situation escalates

Tenth Doctor - really going to depend on the companion for this one. If it's Martha, he's home Scot free. If it's Donna, he's doomed.

Eleventh Doctor - episode ends at the cold open as he is incapable of remaining still and cracks the planet's surface in half

Twelfth Doctor - If he's with Clara, she solves the plot before him and things wrap up quicker. If he's with Bill, it's the exact same episode as with Fifteen

Thirteenth Doctor - The Villengard system isn't the proble-*explodes*

Fourteenth Doctor - like I said, he's with Donna. Everyone's doomed.

Fugitive Doctor - quietly the Doctor who'd actually best handle this situation, even better than Fifteen, however we can never see it except in weird, disjointed flashbacks that mean extremely little.

#doctor who #boom

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ayyy-pee · 2 years

Text

On-Call

Discord 18+ - Twitter - Kofi

Pairing: Shoko Ieiri x Female Reader

Summary: The rush of a hospital stops for no one.

Yet in the early morning hours, when it's just you and her within the four walls of the on-call room, time seems to stand still.

Genre: Hospital AU

Story Warning: Smut, Lesbian Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Scissoring, Slight Jealousy

“Eighteen hours down and we’ll be back again in ten!” Cheers your colleague, Haibara. He raises his pint of beer in the air before throwing it back, chugging it down within seconds.

“And you’ll be fired for showing up drunk if you don’t slow down,” your other colleague, Nanami chimes in.

“Aww, Kentoooooo,” Haibara whines. “Come on! Doctors deserve breaks, too!”

“Yes, breaks. Not alcoholic benders.” Nanami takes a sip of his own beer. The blonde didn’t seem the slightest bit drunk, but that wasn’t unusual. You’d seen Nanami knock back plenty of beers then calmly perform an emergency resuscitative thoracotomy in the ER just an hour later. He was serious, professional and it seemed he did almost nothing wrong. There was much to be admired when it came to Nanami.

Haibara on the other hand was a decent doctor. He was the opposite of Nanami - silly, optimistic and thoroughly enjoyed being a medical professional. They balanced each other well and their friendship made your days worth working.

You loved being able to go home at night and think about the lives you’d saved, the families who you made sigh with relief and happiness at the fact that their loved one would make it. They’d be surviving because of you and your friends. There was no better feeling.

But some days were harder than others. Being a doctor came with its fair share of misery. There were days when all you saw was exhaustion, suffering, families huddled together to say their final goodbyes as they watched the light fade from their loved ones eyes. Yes, some days were harder than others. And when those days were over, you found yourself in the bar surrounded by your friends for quick drinks before you all went your separate ways to power nap before doing it all over again.

You’re all in your second year of residency at Tokyo Jujutsu Medical Center. It’s been absolutely brutal; nothing compared to your intern year, but still intense. Your Chief Resident, Dr. Yaga – despite his assortment of cutesy panda pins – is a hard ass who never lets up. You know he’s hard on you all for a reason, but it still sucks to have someone breathing down your neck over how you placed a catheter or the way you entered your patient dosages. In the end though, you know you’ll be a better doctor because of it. You, Nanami, Haibara, Utahime…everyone you’d spent the last few years suffering with…you would all probably need intense therapy, but you’d be the best doctors.

Then there was her…

Your eyes roam over the shot glass ridden table all the way to the pretty woman across at the end of it, downing probably her twelfth shot of the night before wrapping her glossy lips around a cigarette and taking a drag.

She’s beautiful, with chocolate brown hair that spills around her shoulders and down her back. Her eyes are a similar shade of brown, sparkling despite the dim light of the bar.

Ieiri Shoko – the top dog at the hospital. She’s more than beautiful, if you were being honest. She’s stunning. In another world, you would have loved to be at the other end of the table going toe to toe with her, laughing and taking shots. But, you can’t. You know why. She knows why. It’s for the best that you keep your distance, no matter how difficult it is for you…and maybe for her.

Shoko is gorgeous, talented, insanely smart. And she’s way too cool to be hanging out with you all. You’re sure Satoru and Suguru are way more interesting, way better company. But, maybe she wanted a change of pace. She has been with those two idiots since med school.

Shoko is above you when it comes to rank at the hospital, so you’re not quite sure why the hell she decided to come out with you all when she’s got friends of her own. In fact, you’re not even sure who invited her, but if you had to guess, it’d be Haibara. He likes everyone.

The sharp sound of a pager’s beeping cuts through the joy at the table, the silence setting in immediately. Everyone reaches for their devices, sighing with relief when they see the page was not for them. You groan, throwing your head back as you stare at the tiny screen in your hand.

“Unlucky me.”

You slide the rest of your drink to Nanami who you’re sure will finish it and then drink another. “I have to be back in about five hours, so I’m heading to the hospital to crash in the on-call room,” you tell your friends. “See you all at rounds.”

Mostly everyone says their goodbyes and you head out of the bar, making the trek back to the hospital.

—---

In the way too early morning hours, your alarm blares next to you, pulling you from a dreamless sleep. When was the last time you’d dreamt? Every time you close your eyes to rest, you only see the back of your eyelids nowadays.

You sit up, stretching before you slide out of bed to head to the bathroom to shower and brush your teeth quickly. You’ll have just enough time to head down to the cafeteria and grab a coffee and muffin before you have to get to rounds. You just need to stick to your timeline.

When you emerge from the bathroom wrapped in your towel, you notice a woman’s form splayed out on the bed out of the corner of your eye. You briefly wonder how she got in here, stepping forward slowly before you realize you recognize her. That thick brown hair and those long slender legs are unmistakable as you approach her.

“Shoko, what are you doing here?” You ask quietly. You glance back to the on-call room door. It’s locked. You’re sure it was locked when you went to bed alone last night and yet Shoko is in here.

She hums as her deep brown eyes find yours. “I wanted to see you before rounds,” she says simply and you freeze for a moment.

“Did I do something wrong yesterday?” Your mind thinks back to your shift. You’d had a bit of difficulty intubating a patient, but ultimately got that taken care of when Nanami came to assist. As far as you knew, there was no issue. The patient was stable.

Shoko shakes her head. “No. Well, I mean you left the bar without so much as a wave in my direction, but no. I just wanted to see you.”

She sits up, crawling off of the bed to stand before you. It’s only then you finally notice she’s only in her bra and panties. Shoko brings her hands up to cup your cheeks, gently bringing her thumb down and running it across your bottom lip before she leans forward and presses a soft kiss to them. Her raspberry lip gloss and the slight taste of cigarettes on her lips assaults your senses and you’re drowning in her before you know it.

“I missed you yesterday,” she whispers between kisses. “I missed these lips,” another kiss. “I missed your taste,” another kiss. “I missed touching you,” another kiss.

You pull back. “Shoko, we can’t do this here. I have rounds soon. We don’t have ti-”

“I want you,” She tells you simply. “I watched you all night, laughing with Nanami, Haibara, everyone else but me. I wouldn’t usually care, you know that. But I hate that I can’t sit with you when we’re out with everyone else.”

A soft smile spreads across your lips. “Yeah, because someone can’t keep her hands to herself.” You see a bit of the sadness behind her tired eyes and you bring your own hands up to cup her cheeks. “Shoko, you know what would happen if anyone found out about us.”

“I know.”

She’s quiet for a moment and you see the wheels turning in her head, trying to find a way to reason with you. She’s not usually so emotional. Shoko is quiet, laid back and nonchalant with most things…but most things didn’t include you. For the past eight months, you’ve been doing exactly what you’re doing now. Meeting up in on-call rooms, sneaking to each other’s apartments when time permits, giving each other longing stares across the pediatric wing when you’re passing each other on your way to a patient’s room.

It’s hard keeping this quiet. And you know it’s as difficult on Shoko as it is on you. It’s only when it’s just the two of you, tangled under the sheets together that she lets you in, tells you how much she wants you and wishes she could hold your hand out in the open. Outside of this, she wears her mask. That’s just how Shoko is. She hides her emotions behind her sarcasm and laissez faire attitude. It’s easier for her that way.

So you give in when she gets needy like she is now, leaning forward and pressing your lips to hers softly. She opens her mouth to you, desperately pouring herself into the kiss and giving you all she can in this moment.

“I do have rounds soon, so we can talk about this more later. Right now, let’s just be together,” you tell her between needy, open mouthed kisses.

She nods, hooking her finger into your towel and pulling. The knot holding the wrap up comes loose and it falls to the floor in a pile around your feet. Shoko’s slender fingers find your waist, pulling you flush against her body and you both moan when you feel your skin touch.

You slide a hand up the back of Shoko’s neck, holding her still as you deepen the kiss before you move your hand up to run through her hair. She sighs and you take advantage, slipping your tongue into her mouth. Shoko runs her tongue along yours, moaning softly when your hand grips her hair between your fingers.

Quickly, you loop your other hand around Shoko’s back, fingers deftly finding the hooks of her bra and unclasping it. She shrugs the garment off before removing her hands from your waist to push her panties to the ground, never breaking the kiss. Her hands find your waist, pulling you back against her and you both moan again when you feel your breasts press together, your groins connecting.

Shoko breaks the kiss first, leaning back slightly to gaze at you. And you gaze at her. She’s the most beautiful person you’ve ever known. You’re convinced that there is no one on this earth prettier than Shoko at this moment and you want to show her.

You gently caress Shoko’s chin, guiding her mouth to yours to kiss her deeply. Shoko melts into you. It’s dizzying, the way this one kiss is turning into one, two, three long kisses. You feel the throbbing in your core begin to grow and you’re desperate to be touched and to touch her. You push softly against Shoko’s shoulders, slowly guiding her back towards the bed until you feel her sinking back into the plush mattress, her hand coming up to grab your wrist and pull you down on top of her.

"I can’t wait to feel you," Shoko comments, pulling back to look at you. You drink her expression in, pupils blown with arousal as she leans into another kiss and you return it fervently, gently caressing her waist. Your hand drifts down Shoko’s chest, cupping her breast in your hand and she whimpers, her own hands coming up to grasp your breasts. She takes each of your hardening nipples between her index fingers and thumbs and rolls the sensitive buds, pulling a sharp gasp from you.

Shoko’s lips find their way to your neck as she lets go of one of your nipples and slips a hand between you both, sliding further and further down until her fingers find your aching clit.

She moans when her fingers slip between your folds and she finds you practically dripping into her hand. You feel her lips curl against your neck with a smirk as she slowly begins rubbing circles.

“We’ve hardly done anything and you’re soaking wet, baby,” she murmurs against you before running her tongue up your neck, to your jaw where she leaves featherlight kisses that have you panting above her.

“I guess I missed you too,” you tell her as you lean forward, crashing your lips into hers. A light gasp escapes you as Shoko slips a finger into your dripping cunt, slowly moving it deeper and deeper with gentle, firm strokes. You match her pace with your own sways of your hips, rocking back and forth in time with Shoko’s movements, gasping and groaning above her as Shoko slips another finger inside.

You drag your hand down Shoko’s torso, smiling against her lips when she shivers and moans at your touch. You feel the soft curls of her pubes just above where your paradise awaits you and you can’t take it any longer.

You break the kiss, sliding your hand between Shoko’s legs to find her just as wet as you. Your fingers stroke her clit gently and you watch as Shoko’s head falls back, her lips parting in silent pleasure as she unconsciously bucks against your teasing touch. You gently press against her clit and Shoko gasps, her hips rocking forward against your fingers.

“You’re so cute like this,” Shoko tells you when she brings her head back up to look at you. She drinks in the sight of you– chest heaving, breasts bouncing, eyes glossed over with lust and she moans softly when she feels the way your walls clamp down on her.

You watch as Shoko rolls her hips into your hand, matching the speed in which you rock your own hips against hers. You can’t help the shiver that creeps up your spine when you feel her sink her fingers into you again and again, hitting your sweet spot.

It goes on and on like this for some time, the sounds of yours and Shoko’s mixed pants and breathing filling the air of the on-call room. You feel yourself growing closer and closer to your peak, but you don’t want to get there without Shoko.

“Let me feel you,” Shoko breathes right before kissing your lips, your neck, your breasts. You nod, lifting yourself off of Shoko’s body and biting back the whine that threatens to escape when you feel her digits leave you.

She slips her fingers between her lips, sucking your essence from them and your core tightens at the sight. She’s so fucking sexy without even trying. Shoko scoots back across the bed and spreads her legs. You gaze at her, the way her pussy glistens with her arousal in the dull light of the on-call room and again, you feel your walls flutter before you follow her lead.

Shoko grabs your leg, hoisting it over her own. You scoot towards each other slowly until you feel Shoko’s hot core press right against yours.

“You’re so warm, so wet,” she moans, pushing her hips towards yours. You both hum with contentment, a soft groan rushing past Shoko’s lips.

You grind your hips against Shoko’s and shiver, feeling the way your slick lets you slide smoothly against each other. You work against each other, clits rubbing against each other. Your head spins from the immense pleasure you’re feeling and you both have to bite your lips to hold in the loud moans and gasps threatening to spill from your mouths.

Shoko grabs onto your thigh, gripping tightly as she picks up the pace. You can feel the wetness pooling between you both, the squelching sound of your slick mixing joining your moans and breaths as you press against each other as closely as you physically can.

“Fuck, god, you’re so wet,” Shoko groans, brows furrowing together as her hips move against yours. Your eyes are glued to her chest, locked onto the way her breasts bounce with every movement. She’s so beautiful, with her pink cheeks and kiss swollen lips. You’re in awe of her beauty, of the way she so effortlessly holds your attention.

“I wish,” Shoko gasps, “I wish I could show everyone you’re mine.” She rolls her hips against yours, moaning at the friction as she continues. “I want everyone to know when we leave here for the night, we go home together. That we belong together.”

Shoko, so quiet usually, is quite the talker when she’s approaching her climax. She always rambles on and on about how much she hates the secrecy of your relationship. And you know it’s true. This is when she’s the most open with you.

“Me too, babe,” you tell her, panting as you press yourselves together harder and faster, chasing your release. And you reach it quickly when Shoko throws her head back, moaning as she whispers, “cum with me”.

And you work yourself faster and faster against her, fingers gripping the bed sheets as you both chase your high together. Just when you think you can’t take anymore, an explosion of delicious ecstasy shoots through your body. You and Shoko cry out as quietly as you can, both your hips bucking of their own accord as you ride out your orgasms together.

……..

You and Shoko untangle your sweaty, sticky limbs as you catch your breath. She kisses you sweetly, whispering how much she wants to be with you, how much she cares for you. She’s always like this afterwards.

A few minutes pass and she climbs out of the bed, heading to the bathroom to shower before she quickly rinses off and dresses. “Sorry to bolt, babe. I have to get to rounds as well. You should hurry and get ready before you’re late.”

You chuckle softly, sliding out of the bed and picking your towel up from its spot on the floor where you’d left it. “It’s your fault if I’m late, Shoko. I better not get in trouble.”

Shoko smiles, moving to give you another kiss as she slips on her white coat. “I hope you don’t. I’ll see you later.” She kisses you again, hard. The way she always does when she misses you more than usual and knows she’ll have to mask her feelings for a while.

You watch her leave before you make your way back into the bathroom for another shower.

……..

You’ve skipped breakfast. You don’t have time and you’re already running behind schedule thanks to your earlier escapades. Rounds started about fifteen minutes ago. You’re bolting up the stairs to the third floor where the orthopedics wing is and where your rounds are taking place this morning. The elevator took way too long. You couldn’t afford to wait and you curse yourself thinking about what a waste of time it was to shower twice. You’re already sweating again.

As you round the corner, you can see the rest of your colleagues are already with a patient. They’re all crowded around the patient’s bed in their hospital room when you arrive. The voice of your superior echoes as they review the patient’s history with the group. You slink to the back of the crowd as your superior drones on.

When they’re done, the room is quiet save for the beeping of the patient’s monitors and their breathing machine.

And then you hear your name called.

Your colleagues separate, parting right down the middle so you’re face to face with your superior and your heart feels like it’s going to beat out of your chest. That luscious, long hair and those beautiful brown eyes with the beauty mark sitting atop her right cheek, just underneath her eye. She gives you a serious look, pursing those pretty, pretty lips she’s now reapplied her raspberry lip gloss to.

“You’re late, Doctor.,” she says sternly enough to fool the others, but not you. You know it’s all a facade. You recognize her mask is up, so you play along as you always do.

“I’m sorry, Dr. Ieiri,” you tell her, offering an apologetic smile. “It won’t happen again.”

TAGS: @Sacvh @suguju @pink4lili @watyousayin

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