#a;magicshopaholic | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

daechwitatamicrecs · 2 months ago

Text

BABY TAEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE HIS HELPLESS ASS I LOVE HIMMMMMMM :( :( :( :(

"just a summer fling" hahahahahahahaha okay sure jan

lmaooo kaya drunk in bed at 6pm unable to get up and turn on a light is SUCH A MOOD.

wahhh they were so cute and precious and unencumbered :(

Voice Of An Angel (Namjoon x OC)

Summary: Namjoon can't stop thinking about the girl that let him have the last copy of his favourite Murakami novel.

Pairing: Namjoon x OC

Genre: Fluff, smut

Word count: 3.3 K

Rating: 18+

Warnings: language, references to alcohol, dirty talk, references to kissing, fingering, nipple play, sex, phone sex, masturbation, intoxication

A/N: It's been inexcusably long since a Namjoon x Kaya fic came out and I take full blame for it. But since a few readers have requested a flashback fic, here it is! This takes place a few days after Namjoon and Kaya meet for the first time in Seoul and can be read standalone.

Tagging: @bbl32, @meirkive, @quarter-life-crisis2, @dreaming-with-happiness, @whoisbts, @kflixnet (if you want to be added to the taglist, lmk)

Listen to: “clouds” by BØRNS

namjoon masterlist | main masterlist

“Play the track again.”

Yoongi wordlessly hits the spacebar and the music plays, the deep bass thrumming through the floor. Namjoon taps his foot to the rhythm from where he’s sitting on the edge of the sofa. The home studio doesn’t have the expanse of equipment that the Big Hit studio does, but after a tiring month, all seven of them seem to be content not stepping out of the dorm for anything work-related.

He pushes his tongue into his chin, frowning as he tries to listen for it, but it never comes. “Okay, stop.”

“It’s sounding flat,” states Yoongi, leaning back in the chair. “The bass isn’t strong enough.”

Namjoon nods, knowing he’s right, but also at a loss for what to do to make it stronger. He goes through three different options in his mind, picturing how each of them would sound, wanting to get a mental read of it before suggesting anything. Just then the door opens and Taehyung saunters in, slippers scraping against the carpeted floor.

“What’s going on?”

“Oi, listen to this and tell me what you think,” says Yoongi suddenly, playing the track from the beginning. Namjoon watches Taehyung carefully for his reaction, albeit getting none as the younger member listens with a straight face. His hair is messy, the blue dye already fading away at the roots where his natural dark is beginning to show. Once the track ends, Taehyung looks between him and Yoongi.

“Is this track for me?” he asks, tone betraying nothing.

Yoongi rolls his eyes and turns back to the laptop while Namjoon raises an eyebrow. “Does that mean it’s good?” he asks, slightly wary.

Taehyung considers this. “It sounds…” He frowns, eyes glazing over as he looks for an appropriate word. “... contemplative,” he decides finally.

“Contemplative,” repeats Namjoon.

“I told you Hobi’s the right person to ask,” says Yoongi dryly, continuing to modify the settings of the track.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Taehyung asks, sounding affronted.

“Contemplative doesn’t help.”

“Then what kind of opinion were you looking for?”

“Something we can actually work with.”

“How can you not work with -”

“What do you need?” Namjoon interrupts, seeing that this discussion is going nowhere.

Taehyung’s head whips to look at him, as though just remembering his original purpose. “Oh. Uh… Jungkook told me he had ramen and pork belly for lunch.”

When he offers nothing more, Namjoon raises an eyebrow. “So did we.”

“There’s none left, though.”

“No, there isn’t. You slept through lunch.”

Taehyung nods, deep in thought. Then -

“Is there any pork belly left? In the fridge?”

Yoongi nods, not looking up from the screen. “Yeah, one packet.” When no one speaks, he turns around, apparently finally working out why Taehyung is here. “Do you want me to make you some?”

“Yes,” he answers, unashamed. “Will you?”

Shaking his head slightly, Yoongi stands up and stretches. “It might be good to take a break, Namjoon,” he suggests, before turning to walk out the door, Taehyung hanging onto his back, a satisfied smile on his handsome face.

Namjoon waves his hand as they leave, knowing Yoongi will probably cook, eat, take a walk and possibly have a smoke before he returns. Taking his vacated seat at the desktop, he clicks on the track again. He can’t hear a single new thing, inspiration evading him, and he groans in frustration before pausing it. He leans back in the chair, rubbing his eyes before picking up his phone to check his notifications. One name catches his eye and he perks up slightly, swiping to open it.

Kaya [16:34]

Apparently there are some vacation spots without pictures of famous people but Jeju Island is not one of them.

Along with the message is a picture of a Polaroid, showing him and an older gentleman smiling into the camera. He recognises his own signature scrawled at the bottom, with a thumb tack at the top of the photo.

Smiling after what feels like hours, Namjoon types out a reply.

Namjoon [17:25]

Haha, I remember this place. They had the best lamb skewers.

He waits for the blue tick, but nothing happens. He sees then that she’d messaged him nearly an hour ago and he deflates, disappointed. He places his phone to the side and continues staring at his laptop, willing for something, anything to strike him.

His eyes roam around aimlessly, falling on the bonsai on his table. Kaya had taken it in her hand when she’d come over a couple of days ago; she’d brought it over to the table but in the midst of what had transpired next, both of them had forgotten to put it back on the shelf.

Namjoon bites his lip at the memory, his mind landing on the one thing he’d thought about more than he’d like to admit. He hadn’t quite believed she would come over when he’d asked - although inviting her had been quite unusual on his part as well. His only rationale was that she wasn’t going to be a permanent fixture in his life so it didn’t matter. Plus, even though she knew by then who he was, it was clear she hadn’t quite grasped just what it meant, which he was glad for.

He wonders for the first time if that’s the reason she chose to come, that it was just a temporary thing. A summer fling, she’d said, and he had to agree.

His stomach flips unexpectedly at the thought, for she’s objectively a great summer fling to have. A foreigner, intelligent, pretty, with good conversational skills. Dating for him is hard enough as it is, even keeping aside the fame angle. But every time he’s met her so far - at the bookstore, the park, the dorm - time has flown by faster than he would like. She’s managed to give him the distinct feeling of being surprised yet relieved at the fact that she exists at all - even if it is halfway across the world from him.

“Just a summer fling, Namjoon,” he mutters to himself, stretching again, just as his phone pings. His heart leaps when he sees a reply from the aforementioned summer fling.

Kaya [17:33]

I don’t know about lamb skewers but Jieun and I did try every cocktail they had to offer.

Namjoon [17:34]

You went out for drinks with your aunt?

Kaya [17:35]

I did. And it’s a lot easier now that I’m legal, instead of when she used to come home from college and sneak me sips of her beer.

Namjoon [17:36]

Interesting. How much did the legality help today?

Kaya [17:37]

Well, it’s almost six pm and I’m in bed trying to sober up. Oh and I can’t be bothered to turn on the light so it’s also dark.

Namjoon raises his eyebrows, not expecting this. He begins typing out a response before pausing. Hesitating momentarily, he calls her.

Kaya answers on the second ring. “I know I didn’t ask, but thank you for calling,” is the first thing she says.

He grins, her voice sounding familiar and exciting at once. “I figured it might hurt to look at the screen,” he explains.

She groans softly. “It does. God, I knew I shouldn’t have had that last mojito,” she complains, and he pictures her massaging her temple as she lies in bed.

“How drunk are you on a scale of one to ten?” he asks, surprised at the genuine concern in his own voice, but glad to hear the amusement in it, too.

“Um, a solid five,” she answers carefully. “So it’s not that bad but I can’t sleep it off either because I have to go to dinner soon…” She sighs. “Jack didn’t think it would be appropriate for Jae-lin to see her mother and sister drunk off their asses so we’ve been sent to sober up before we meet up again. Separately.”

Namjoon chuckles. “Good dad,” he remarks.

“Yeah. Irresponsible aunt, though. But I’m almost twenty-five so I don’t think I can blame her for decisions like this anymore.” She giggles unexpectedly before groaning again, softly, and his stomach flips. “What are you doing?” she asks after a moment.

He sighs inwardly and looks at the laptop screen again, now with his photo gallery screensaver appearing and bouncing around the screen. “Trying to work on this one song…” He shakes his head, running a hand through his hair. “Not making a lot of headway, though.”

“No?” She’s quiet for a moment. “Music producers have off days, too?”

“Yeah, we have our off days,” he confirms, rolling his eyes but smiling anyway. “It’s the same song I was working on when you came over.”

“You mean when I distracted you?”

Namjoon bites back a grin. “Yeah. Guess I have you to blame for this. Every time I try to remember what I was doing, I get distracted.”

“Have you tried to remember it a lot?” she teases, voice slightly quieter now. “Because I have.”

His throat feels dry. “Yeah?”

“M-hm. Don’t tell Jungkook, but I kind of really hate him a bit. Hey, tell me something,” she says abruptly. “Why’s it called a bias?”

Namjoon frowns, thrown. “Uh - why is what called a bias?”

“Like, your favourite k-pop member in a band. Apparently it’s called a bias,” she explains. “Jae-lin told me.”

“Oh.” He understands now. “I’m not sure. I think it’s because you’re biased towards one person?”

“No, I think it stands for something,” she disagrees, sounding rather invested. “Although your thing sounds more correct, though.”

He nods. “Why were you and Jae-lin talking about biases anyway?”

“Oh, it was nothing. I mentioned your friend Jungkook and she - well, she kind of lost it at first,” she amends, and he can almost hear her rolling her eyes. “But then she said he was really cute but her bias is someone else.”

“Oh? Who?” Namjoon asks, mildly curious.

“It was… okay, I don’t remember his name,” she says sheepishly. “But she did say he has a great voice. Very deep, apparently.”

“Ah, okay. Taehyung, I’m guessing.”

“Probably. She said he looked ethereal. And I remember this specifically because I swear she used this word, like, eight times in two minutes.”

Namjoon laughs, not finding it worth mentioning that the ethereal member is currently loitering around the kitchen, unshowered and hungry, as he enlists an older member to provide him sustenance. “She’s a kid,” is all he says. “Who’s your bias, by the way?”

Kaya laughs and his stomach does a backflip again. “I know exactly three names from your band right now.”

“But you’ve hooked up with only one.”

“M-hm. Doesn’t that give you an unfair advantage?”

“Is it my fault we met first?” he questions, leaning back in his chair, suddenly missing her greatly. “I think I’ve earned the advantage.”

“Well…” She pretends to think it over and he pictures it again: her, lying alone on a hotel bed, possibly in a dress she wore to lunch, shoes still on, wavy hair spread out over a creamy pillow in the twilight. He wonders if her hair still smells of that same scent, like an unsweetened dessert. “Jungkook doesn’t seem like he’s older than twenty, and I can’t compete with my cousin for the ethereal one,” she lists, “which leaves me with… you.”

Namjoon bites his lip, realising for the first time just how much he was waiting for her to say that. “Just me,” he agrees quietly.

“You…” She’s quiet for a few seconds and he wonders if she’s feeling the same anticipation he is. “Did it annoy you?” she asks eventually. “Thursday?”

He frowns slightly. “You coming over? Of course not.”

“No. Us getting interrupted.”

Namjoon exhales. “Come on, you know it did,” he murmurs. “I kind of hate Jungkook a little bit, too.”

She giggles again, softly, and he swallows. “Did you, um…” She trails off. “No, I can’t ask you this,” she mutters after a moment.

“What?”

He imagines her shaking her head. “No, it’s too… I mean, you don’t really know me that well and… forget it.”

“Kaya.” Namjoon says nothing more, just her name as gently as possible, as deeply as possible. He isn’t oblivious to the sound of his own voice, just like he knows he isn’t imagining her sharp intake of breath. “Tell me.”

“Okay. Let it be on the record that I’m only saying this because I’m intoxicated…” She hesitates, and his heart races in anticipation. “... but I definitely needed a cold shower when I got home that day.”

Silence. Namjoon slowly closes his eyes before letting his free hand crawl to his crotch to check - yep, he’s already sporting a semi. “You and me both,” he confesses after a moment, sighing.

“Yeah?” She sounds surprised at his admittance.

“Yeah. Right after you left, actually.”

“Oh.” There’s another pause. Namjoon thinks he can guess where this is heading, and his cock twitches at the prospect, but he doesn’t want to jump the gun. He waits for her to continue. “What did you think about?”

He’s prepared for this. “Everything I wanted to do before we got interrupted.”

She takes a deep breath that makes his toes curl. “Which was what?”

“You want me to tell you?” he asks, just to be sure.

“Every detail,” she confirms quietly.

If this goes to shit, you can just never see her again. “How drunk are you?” he asks after a moment.

“Not so drunk that I won’t be able to picture it.” Her boldness is enough of an indicator of some inebriation, but he guesses if she’s sober enough to give her consent, he’s good to go.

“You want me to tell you what I would’ve done if Jungkook hadn’t shown up?” He waits for her to murmur a yes before continuing. “I wanted to feel how wet you were. I could, already. I could feel it when my hand was pressed up against you,” he tells her, voice low and deep. He doesn’t want to think about it right now, but he knows he’s good at this. “I wanted to push one finger to your clit through your underwear… wanted you to ask me to take it off.”

“Fuck,” she whispers. “And if I asked?”

“I’d do it… after I got you soaking through it.” He has to pause for a moment here to steady his voice. “I’d wait until you begged me to take it off.” There’s a soft whimper on the other side of the phone and he freezes. “Fuck, Kaya, are you touching yourself?” he asks softly.

Kaya doesn’t answer for a moment. “Is that okay?” she asks finally, sounding wary. “I… your voice is making me feel…” She trails off, and Namjoon instantly hardens.

“You’re touching yourself… to what I’m saying?” he clarifies, his hand reaching his own hardened member as though of its own accord.

“You can do it, too,” she offers, a bit coyly, almost as though she can see him. “And, um…” She takes a shaky breath “... please don’t stop.”

“Fuck…” Suddenly remembering something, Namjoon springs up from his seat and darts to the door, locking it lest one of his six band members barges in on him. He resumes his seat and switches his phone to his left hand, tugging down his joggers with the other and grasping himself through his plain white underwear. “Put me on speaker.”

He hears a shuffle to indicate she’s obeyed him. “Done. Now… you were telling me how you wanted to make me beg for your fingers?”

“M-hm…” Namjoon palms himself, sighing quietly before continuing. “I wanted to make you beg before I took off your jeans, and your pretty black underwear. I wanted to enter you, first with one finger and then a second… while my palm rubbed against your clit… and you whispered my name.”

“Yeah, I’d say your name,” she agrees breathily, its absence conspicuous.

“Your bra was off… and your nipples looked so hard and sexy…” The image floats into his mind, her back arched as she lay on the sofa underneath him. “Fuck, I wanted to suck them so bad, Kaya…”

Her breathing is faster now, soft moans audible. Namjoon takes the phone away from his ear and puts it on speaker, placing it on the table before lowering his boxer briefs and freeing himself, properly grasping his erection now. His thumb brushes the glistening pre-cum on the tip, smearing it down his shaft before he begins stroking himself.

“Namjoon…” Her voice out loud in the room makes him jump slightly but he moves his hand faster, feeling himself closer than he’d thought. “I wanted you to… God, I wanted you to kiss me…”

“I wanted to kiss you… I wanted to swallow every sound you made while I fucked you with my fingers… I wanted to kiss your neck, suck on your skin -” He stops himself in time, hoping she doesn’t pick up on it. “I wanted to rub your little clit, slowly, until you asked me to go faster… until you were coming all over my fingers…”

Kaya’s moans are louder now, more frantic. “Fuck, I’m close, I’m…” She breaks off and the sound she makes, loud and breathy, brings him on the verge.

Namjoon continues working himself, stroking his cock faster and unable to keep quiet any longer. A few more quick, frustrated strokes and he feels himself explode all over his hand. He gives himself a few seconds to recover from his orgasm, groaning quietly, before leaning over and pulling out a few tissues from the box behind the laptop, cleaning himself up and pulling his clothes back up. He takes the phone off speaker and brings it back to his ear.

“Are you still there?” he asks after a moment. He can hear rustling so he knows she hasn’t hung up, but he has a moment of panic when he wonders if she regrets it.

“Yeah,” she says after a moment, still sounding slightly breathless. “Thanks for, um…” She laughs quietly, sounding a bit self-conscious. “It felt really good,” she finishes.

“Me, too,” he agrees, smiling to himself. “Did that help at all… with your headache?”

She scoffs in humour. “God, I hope so,” she says, and he hears her shift. “Sitting up is definitely easier. Did it help with your… I don’t know, musician’s block?”

“I really hope so,” he says dryly, leaning back in his chair. “Might have helped more in person, but, hey.” Glad to hear her chuckle at that, he continues. “Listen, uh… I know you’re leaving next week but can I take you out to dinner before you do? When you’re back from Jeju?”

“Yeah, that would be nice. Tuesday? I’m having dinner with the family on Wednesday. Last night and all,” she adds, sounding a bit wistful.

“Tuesday sounds good.” Namjoon nods, not wanting the call to end but knowing it’s coming to a natural close. “I’ll see you then.”

“Yeah. I should go, I guess…”

“M-hm.” He scrambles for something to prolong the conversation. “Call me if you - if you need - I mean, not this, but if you want to -” He breaks off, cringing with his head in his hands.

Kaya laughs, to his great relief. “I’m not sober enough to be too embarrassed about that but I’m sure I’ll get there,” she half-groans. “I’ll, uh… I’ll text you?”

“Yes, please,” he says, voice muffled where his hand is still covering his face. “And… don’t be embarrassed,” he adds earnestly. “You were… forgive me, but you were really hot.”

When she doesn’t respond for a few seconds, he’s afraid he’s said something wrong. But then he hears her stifle a chuckle. “I’ll see you in a few days, music producer.”

—

Thank you for reading. Don't forget to leave a review :)

#author: magicshopaholic #group: bts #member: kth #type: series

237 notes · View notes

daechwitatamic · 2 years ago

Text

Hiiii cath!

i know, i feel like to be seokjin’s person you have to be willing to commit to a bit for a while 🥲

I’m glad all the puppy stuff felt right, it’s been a long time for me so i was dredging up ancient memories lol

lmao not “shoulder man” imagine that being his In Trouble name??? Excuse me, shoulder man, why didn’t you take out the trash as promised?

thank you so much for reading, I’m glad you liked it!!!

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!!!

#magicshopaholic #review replies

773 notes · View notes