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You’re the kind of person who can talk themself out of any situation—

Or should I say— almost. any situation.

ONE of your coworkers figured you out, and now they’re intent on torturing you with it.

Fantasy critters AU pt.7

🍎 The Heart of the Harvest

“A good homemade meal can fix more than just a hungry stomach; it can mend a weary soul.”

Name: Priscilla “Picky” Piggy

Title: The chef of Abundance | The Crew’s healer

Blessing: Abundance

Gifted to her by Vesta, Goddess of Home, Healing, and Harvest. With this blessing any meal Picky prepares with genuine care carries miraculous properties. Her food can knit together physical wounds, soothe illness, and help ease emotional trauma like panic or grief.

Origin: The southern Coasts

Character Summary:

Picky grew up surrounded by family. endless aunts and uncles, cousins, and grandparents who always seemed to know exactly what to say. Her home was never quiet and never empty, filled instead with laughter, arguments, stories, and the constant smell of something cooking. She loved her family deeply and cherished the time spent learning from them, especially from her elders, who believed wisdom was best passed down over a shared meal.

Her favorite holiday was the Harvest Gathering, when the entire family came together to cook, tell stories, and prepare a feast in celebration of the year’s bounty. As much as she loved the food, Picky slowly came to understand that the true heart of the celebration wasn’t what sat on the table but rather who sat around it.

A meal, she learned, was only as special as the people who shared it.

She carried those lessons with her into adulthood.

One day, while out foraging, Picky came across someone badly injured. A chicken who looked as though he’d been attacked and left for dead. Alarmed, she brought him somewhere safe, carefully cleaned and bandaged his wounds, and set to work on the only thing she knew she could do: cook. using the things she’d gathered from the forest she made a simple pot of soup, pouring every ounce of concern and care she had into the meal as she waited for him to wake.

When he finally did, he was frightened and disoriented, panic flashing in his eyes. Picky gently coaxed him into eating. To both of their shock and amazement, as the soup warmed him, his wounds closed, his exhaustion faded, and even his fear seemed to melt away.

That was the day Picky discovered what her blessing was, a thing she never thought she’d discover.

Later, she learned his name was Kickin and that he had been injured while gathering intelligence on a group of the Prototype’s cultists. Not long after, DogDay arrived to retrieve his teammate. After hearing what had happened and seeing the warmth that radiated from her, DogDay offered Picky a place among the critter crew.

A chance to help in a way only she could.

Without hesitation, she said yes.

[Keep Reading for full lore, stats, and connections…]

Next up: 💡Bubba Bubbaphant

Book Review: Half City by Kate Golden

Half City

By Kate Golden

“..it’s like a wave crashing over me. Knocking me down and dragging me out to sea. A force I can’t fight. One I don’t even want to. That undertow is too strong, too knowing, too powerful. It rolls out of me like the first breath after drowning.”

Half City is Buffy the Vampire Slayer meets Crescent City and Shadowhunters. It features a modern, fiery, and capable female…

Book Review: Half City by Kate Golden

Yo pienso que la admiración puede venir de los dos. Puedes admirar a alguna persona des de la distancia con también de la cercanía. Lo que importa es la conexión que tienes con esa persona o personas.

Book Review: I Got Abducted by Aliens and Now I’m Trapped in a RomCom

I Got Abducted by Aliens and Now I’m Trapped in a RomCom

By Kimberly Lemming

I picked this up on NetGalley on a whim because the description sounded fun, but I was not prepared for the absolutely hilarious story that followed. This is a spicy, why-choose alien-abduction rom-com where I dare you to guess what will happen next. It’s packed with chaotic energy, ridiculous humor, and a whole lot of…

Book Review: I Got Abducted by Aliens and Now I’m Trapped in a RomCom

Chapter XII - The New Wisdom (part ii)

Mostly family time here; Din and his lightsaber; Force things

            Grogu wanted to meditate for a bit while they waited for the suns to get warmer, and excused himself to his room, leaving Din alone.  As he had done lately when he found himself between tasks, he stepped to the turret to try again.  He was trying not to get frustrated by his continued inability to open the hatch, but it was difficult to overcome.  He was beyond irritated that the trick of it still eluded him.  He could sometimes hear a metallic scrape or two when he was sure he sensed the mechanism, but still he struggled to master this most basic skill he employed without thinking when he was a child. 

            Unlocking this hatch had become a mission.  He didn’t tell Aldor, but she knew.  In her typical fashion, she chose to let him find out for himself.  It was more necessary in this case than most, because she was right that this block was tied to his childhood.  It didn’t help that old, buried memories continued to flood his mind as he advanced through his awakening.  They were simultaneously painful and precious, because they always reminded him of those few instances when he couldn’t contain his ability, and his parents chided him while sorrow filled their eyes.  He would have done anything not to see that look on their faces, but sometimes he couldn’t help it.  Something would upset or surprise him, then his parents had to explain away some strange occurrence in the Bizarre and he’d see those agonizing expressions again. 

            He hoped new wisdom would assuage the guilt that accompanied these memories, but all he could see was his parents’ faces panicked and pained.  He just couldn’t shake that feeling of dread.  It had to be some sort of test the Force engineered for him.  A final exam before he could graduate to something greater.  Because every time he made another attempt at opening the hatch, he heard the call from underneath.  He was sure it was linked somehow to the call he continued to hear from the Iris, and as soon as he could open this hatch, it would be the right time to follow the voices.

            Din’s thoughts were routed from the task at hand when two warm arms wrapped around him from behind. 

            You’re trying too hard, my Love.

            She was still damp and hot from her shower as she gave him an affectionate squeeze.  Din murmured in pleasure when the steam from her flesh filled his nostrils with her herbal scent.  She felt so good around him.  Warm and soft and so sweet.  Delicious as he took her hand from his chest and tenderly kissed her palm.  A precious distraction from things that could drive him mad.  He turned around and kissed her indulgently, teasing himself for the night to come.  “Mmm..” he murmured, burying his face in her hair to overwhelm himself with more of her cool fragrance.  “Tonight, my Lady,” he whispered in her ear.  “Tonight, I’m yours.  And you are mine.”

            She dragged her tongue under his jaw as he huffed and whimpered at once, trembling under the seductive caress.  “Promise you won’t leave me empty.”

            “Nothing will take me from you.”

            “This is the Way,” she concluded with a beautiful smile. 

            Everything in him wanted to throw her on the bed, but Grogu’s mind had awakened from meditation.  So Din resigned himself to one more quick kiss before they headed back to the kitchen, and rounded the turret together to see Grogu perched on the table, ready to go in his coat and gloves. 

            The cold still hung heavy in the air when they set out for the Maze, but once they got there and started going through their forms, all were sufficiently warm to practice some combinations.  After at least two hours of this, Din began to feel this morning’s wisdom creeping into his muscle as he took a swift Mandalorian sweep at the leg of a pseudo-sentient sparring droid and finished it off with an elegant swoop of his blade through its neck.  Having vented some of his frustration with droids, he turned and disengaged his blade to watch Grogu’s progress with a wooden dummy, but his boy’s wide brown eyes were locked on him and staring in awe.  “What?” Din asked. 

            “That was beautiful, my Love,” Aldor said with a tone of heat in her voice.  When he looked from brown eyes to blue ones, a quiver of silken ribbons rushed over his skin, but they quickly withdrew as she cleared her throat.  “That move… a perfect combination for you.  Remember that.  How it came together.  In your mind and in your heart.  Your muscle and nerves.”

            “This morning,” Din explained.  “I was going on what I felt this morning… thinking about this saber.  How things tie together.”  He paused as Aldor stepped closer, keeping his eyes on hers as he went on.  “How I’m tied to you, my Lady… our son to both of us.  Me to this saber.  Mando… what people called me before… how he… how I… can tie all of it to the Force.  All I knew before and all I’ve learned.  Made sense all of a sudden while I was looking at this saber… feeling it in my hand.  How to… bring Din and Mando together… different elements… like this lightsaber.  Didn’t think… wasn’t sure… I wanted to be Mando anymore.  I don’t really.  Not the way I was.  Just a hunter with no purpose.  An empty heart.  Now that I have a son and a woman who loves me, I don’t want to give them up.  But if not for Mando, I wouldn’t have either of them.  I guess I forget that.”  He sighed and shook his head.  “Not sure why it was so difficult to understand until this morning.  Looking back on things, it seems like I’ve always kind of been… both.”

            “A Mandalorian heart and a Jedi mind, my Love.  The Force may have awakened in you, but you are still Mandalorian.  The entity wronged you, but the ideal remains central to who you are.  Even if your village was never attacked and you were never a Mandalorian Foundling.  Even if you went to train at the Jedi Temple as a child.  No matter what your life may have been, you have a beskar heart, my Love.  The things that made you so comfortable in your armor are characteristics you come by naturally.  But the things that make you powerful in the Force also come naturally.  After what happened to you on Mandalore, I think you forced those two aspects of your nature apart to make it easier to process.  Now you’ve processed it, and your mind is free to put yourself back together.”  She smiled, taking a moment to lovingly caress his cheek with feather-soft fingertips.  “A good thing.  Because your beskar heart is what I love most about you, my Mandalorian.”

            “Like your zillo hide and silk, my Lady.”  He brushed his fingers into her hair and traced her lip with his thumb as a joyous swell of pure, resounding affection stole his voice.  For a moment, all he could do was look at her in awe and gratitude.  Just because she was brilliant and beautiful and thought so much of him.  “Your hydro engine,” he whispered.  “The thing I love most about you.  How you’re… dark and light… brutal but… so sweet…”  He kissed her deeply, but withdrew abruptly when he remembered Grogu was there.  Din acknowledged him apologetically.  “Sorry, Kid.  You’re gonna see that sometimes.”

            Grogu merely shrugged and said, “Okay.”

            “You see how concerned he was, my Love,” Aldor teased.

            Din’s lips pitched into a wide smile as he looked down to hide his face, bashful for some reason and completely in love with this woman who always reminded him to laugh at himself.  He said nothing, but she felt it, and he pressed another kiss to her mouth before he looked up at the Maze and heaved a deep sigh.  “What do you think, my Lady?”

            “Yes, my Love.  I’d like to see what new wisdom has done for your speed through the Maze.”

            “You’ve reprogrammed it since the last time?” he asked.

            “I have,” she said with a beautiful, fierce curl at her lip.  “I think it will be challenge enough for one as powerful as you.”

            Din stretched and gave his saber an encouraging twirl while Aldor brought her wrist up to her eyes to set a timer on her communicator.  He crouched into position, determined to lick this bastard in under a minute, no matter what sinister traps she conjured for him.  He gave a quick nod, and quietly uttered, “Start.”

            Din jumped between the giant cubes of weathered rock to quickly discover Aldor had vastly reprogrammed the remotes and reset the obstacles.  There were projectiles and a constant barrage of weak blaster fire.  The remotes expelled sub-remotes that chased him through the narrow pathways and into dead ends, but he was able to escape them all.  He found himself switching back and forth between Mandalorian brawn and Jedi subtlety, and about halfway through, he hit a stride where he managed to unite them without thinking.  The Force created a leverage between him and all things that he felt instinctively, and he used it to execute Mandalorian tactics and moves, striking out at remotes and dodging traps, running up and across walls to leap huge distances and heights he never managed before.  He was moving with more agility and precision, far surpassing even his younger self.  He took comfort in knowing he could certainly move himself with the Force if nothing else, and he was through the Maze before he even realized it, landing beside Aldor on the other side with barely a thud from his feet as she stopped the timer on her wrist.

            “Fifty-six seconds,” she announced.  “Impressive, my Love.  Under a minute that time.”  Her face pitched up into a facetious smile.  “I didn’t once have to tell you to go less Mando and more Jedi… or vice versa.”

            Din chuckled at the family joke that began his first week of training, when her most rudimentary traps had him smarting under his bruises.  He got most of them when Mando instinct told him to barrel through when he should have skirted past.  As the weeks passed, her repeated suggestion to “go less Mando and more Jedi” served its purpose as a reminder to listen to the Force rather than make demands of it.  Now it was an affectionate jab, and a hint to remember his new wisdom.   So he bent down to thank her with an equally affectionate kiss.

            He looked down at the Old Republic saber in his hand when their kiss produced the typical spark.  He noticed lately that the saber always ran a shot of static through him if he kissed her while it was in his hand.  As if it approved of his affection.  He still felt half crazy for thinking of a weapon as sentient, but he couldn’t deny his feelings.  Something kept this saber attached to him.  It felt like an old friend who witnessed Din’s love for his family with something like satisfaction.  Maybe even a little relief.  It was a familial feeling that kept Din equally attached to the saber.  He felt naked if he didn’t carry it, and lately started to leave his blaster by their bunk more often than not, and favored the light saber as his primary weapon.  It was all so natural, he didn’t really notice or think about it until now. 

Din disengaged the blade and regarded the hilt a moment longer before he looked back at Aldor and asked, “Is it common for a light saber to… bond… with someone other than its maker?”

            “Not to the extent this one is bound to you, my Love,” she answered.  “At least not that I’ve seen.  But you are rather an anomalous Force wielder.  And this blade… it’s strange… it seems to know you.  Like it’s been in your hand before.”

            “Maybe it has,” Din mused.  “When it shows me its maker, he looks familiar.  I know he must have died eons ago, but… some part of him still lives in the Force.  And in this saber I think.  I always see bloody beskar and… a child… when I think of him.”  He closed his eyes and saw the swarthy human Jedi in his mind, one hand clasped to this saber, and the other tenderly guiding a young human boy.  “Every time,” he murmured.  “I see this man and I feel like I know him.  I think he was a good man… but he made some sort of mistake… something catastrophic… something that changed more than him.”  Din opened his eyes again and sighed deeply, looking from the black stone hilt up to Aldor’s face, deep in reflection.  “Tell me, my Lady, do you know anything else about this light saber… or its maker?  Do you know who he was?”

            “I’m afraid I don’t, my Love.  I only know he served in the first war between the Mandalorians and the Jedi.  It always caught my attention when I passed by the display, so I asked Madame Jocasta about it once, but I don’t remember the name she told me and she didn’t tell me anything more.  Except that Master Yoda had it placed in the display only recently.  I doubt she knew why, but Madame Jocasta was an expert at making you believe she knew everything.“  Aldor paused to smile pleasantly at a memory Din couldn’t see, but she quickly came to again and shrugged.  "Maybe Master Yoda knew something of its maker.  I may even have some information on him somewhere, but without a name, I wouldn’t know where to begin.”  Aldor sighed regretfully.  “I wish I could remember his name.  The only other thing I know is this light saber desperately wanted me to save it.  Specifically me.  It pulled so hard on my heart, I had to get it down or die trying.  When I first had a moment to study it a little, I half expected it to favor me.  Because this specific weapon has always pulled on my heart and respected me.  I’m sure it would have served me well if I ever decided to wield it, but I could tell it was waiting for something.”  She turned her eyes back to him, catching his gaze with a sober expression.  “Waiting for you, my Mandalorian.  I know now that’s why it called to me.  It knew the man I was destined to love would be its new wielder.  I believe it felt your presence in the Force from the moment you were born, and it will remain loyal to you until you draw your last breath.”

            “I don’t know why,” Din murmured.  “I don’t know why it favors me so.  Why I favor it.  All I know is… it reacts to my feelings.  Almost seems to encourage me.”

            “You did swear you would use it to protect your family, my Love,” Aldor reminded him.  “Perhaps it’s happy to be of service to such a noble goal.”

            Din nodded.  “Maybe.  But I sense… shame… for its past.  The mistakes its master made.  Maybe it feels my purpose is the same as this Jedi’s, and maybe it thinks I’m capable of something he wasn’t.”  Din trailed off, thinking about the first morning he hung it on his belt.  “And… that morning,” he continued quietly.  “That morning after we made love and… we knew… saw our destiny… when I picked it up thinking nothing would take it from us… seeing so many pasts and futures… all with you and Grogu beside me… this saber felt redeemed… and… I felt like something started… something significant.”

            “I felt it too, my Love.”  In her voice was a softness of remembrance.  A small smile settled on her lips as she lifted herself with her toes to press a gentle kiss to his lips.  “After a morning like that, I’m inclined to believe it’s a good thing you started.”

            Din nodded, taking her face in his hand as his mind turned from heavier thoughts to bask in all the things he loved about her.  “Me too,” he agreed through a small smile.  “Let’s just hope I’m as strong as you and this saber think I am, my Lady.”

            Grogu turned from the dummy he’d been at war with and looked up at his father.  “Strong,” he said reassuringly as he patted Din’s knee.

            Din smiled down at his boy.  “I’m glad you think so, Son.”

            “Well, my Love,” Aldor said brightly.  “You’ve mastered Soresu remarkably quickly, so I have no doubt of your strength either.  But it won’t be as easy going forward.  Before I start showing you the Ataru forms, I think you should run the Gauntlet by the sea.  Both with and without your armor.  It will be a good way for you to tie everything together before we add more.”

            Din nodded.  “You’re probably right, my Lady.  New wisdom takes time to sink in.”

Simply in Love

Summary: Matthew’s only been here for a few months, but he knows Dream pretty well. Knows his temperament, his triggers. Knows that he’s not a being of Sunshine and Light.

So the fact that this is the tenth day in a row where there hasn’t been a cloud in the sky, the temperature is bordering on perfect, plants are bursting into bloom with shades of color that have never been seen before, and Cain hasn’t killed Abel even once -

Yeah. Matthew is concerned

Matthew doesn’t know what the hell is going on. He isn’t really - worried? Hard to be worried when the Dreaming has been having the most pleasant weather in centuries, according to its more seasoned inhabitants. Everyone seems to be, not just in a good mood, but a jubilant one. The atmosphere is positively celebratory. 

Again, not a bad thing. And yet.

After months of nonstop crises, dreary weather, and threats from other realms - not to mention ancient rivalry and hostility still simmering between certain Endless siblings - the contrast is a bit disorienting. And sort of - out of character? Matthew’s boss is by nature a morose son of a bitch. Known for his frequent lapses into melancholy and dramatic shifts in mood. Matthew’s only been here for a few months, but he knows Dream pretty well. Knows his temperament, his triggers. Knows that he’s not a being of Sunshine and Light.

So the fact that this is the tenth day in a row where there hasn’t been a cloud in the sky, the temperature is bordering on perfect, plants are bursting into bloom with shades of color that have never been seen before, and Cain hasn’t killed Abel even once - 

Yeah. Matthew is concerned. 

Looks like he’s going to have to consult the Boss’s second in command.

“Wassup, Loosh?” Matthew sails into the library, landing on Lucienne’s desk effortlessly. Hell yeah, all that practice really has paid off.

Lucienne peers at him over her glasses, smiling indulgently.

“Good morning, Matthew. What can I do for you on this fine day?”

Matthew ruffles his feathers, lets out a “Caw!”

“Ah. This is about Him.”

“When isn’t it,” Matthew mutters under his breath. 

He cocks his head and says,”Well. I mean. You have noticed, right?”

Lucienne blinks. “Noticed what?”

Matthew flaps his wings impatiently. “Oh, come on. This can’t be normal.”

“To what are you referring?”

He rolls his eyes. “What I’m referring to is this!” He waves his left wing in the direction of the nearest open window. “Sunshine and sunbeams. Birds chirping merrily from dawn till dusk. Bees buzzing. Everyone smiling and being pleasant, even Mervyn. I haven’t heard any thunder in days. What is going on?”

Lucienne covers her mouth with her hand, hiding a smile.

“What? What am I missing?”

“It’s nothing to be alarmed about, Matthew. Lord Morpheus is simply in love.”

“Nothing to be alarmed about? Simply in love?” Matthew squawks. “Look. I may be the newbie around here, but even I know the story of Nada and Dream. Well, not the whole story, obviously, but - “

Lucienne laughs. Matthew looks offended.

“Relax, Matthew. This is not that. For one thing, he’s not fallen for a mortal this time. There is no law forbidding him to be with his beloved.”

Matthew makes a face. “Gross. Does this mean we’re all going to be subject to PDAs everywhere we go?”

“I don’t think Hob is into that sort of thing.”

Matthew almost falls off the desk in shock, forgetting for a moment that he can fly.

“Hob? Hob Gadling? As in, the human immortal that he meets up with every century?”

“Well. Not just once a century. Not anymore.”

“How long has this been going on?” If he had hands, he’d be standing with them on his hips right now. As it stands, he’s pretty sure he looks ridiculous.

“I believe they’ve been meeting up about once a week for…oh, a while now. It’s just recently that they - oh, how do the humans say - got their heads out of their butts.”

Matthew snickers. “Got their heads out of their asses. That’s the saying.”

Lucienne waves her hand. “Whatever. I’m just glad that Lord Morpheus has finally found his happiness. It’s been - too long.”

Matthew can’t help but continue to feel uneasy. “But what happens when it ends? Because with the Boss, it always does. Right?”

Lucienne smiles - a small, hopeful thing. 

“I can’t say, for sure. I just have a feeling that things are going to work out.”

Matthew doesn’t have that kind of faith. So he sets out to make sure that disaster doesn’t inevitably follow.

Tap, tap. Tap, tap.

Hob jerks awake. Apparently he fell asleep in his chair again. A fleece blanket has been arranged around his sleeping body, corners tucked just so. He makes a deduction, and smiles.

He rubs his eyes. It’s still early. He doesn’t have anywhere to be today, but he might as well start his day. First on the agenda: coffee.

Tap, tap. Tap, tap.

Hob sighs. He pushes himself out of his chair. Stretches, and yawns. Taking his time.

TAP TAP

Hob grins. He walks over to the kitchen window and throws the sash up.

“Morning,” he greets the raven, who’s giving him the evil eye. “Well, make yourself at home.”

The bird hops into the flat, all indignation. His beady eyes sweep over Hob from head to toe, like he’s judging Hob for his inside-out t-shirt, bedhead, and bleary eyed demeanor.

Hob snorts. He makes his way over to the coffeemaker, which is already set up and ready to go. He pushes the on button, and grabs a mug from the cabinet.

“So. Did you think I wouldn’t notice you following me around for the past couple of weeks? I take it you’re one of Dream’s cohorts?”

“I’m his raven.”

Oh, cool. A talking bird.

“What does that mean, exactly?”

Matthew huffs. “I’m anything he needs me to be.”

“I see. Does that include spying?”

“I am not a spy. I’m his eyes and ears in the Waking. I deliver messages for him, and run very important errands. I - “

“All right. What does any of that have to do with me?”

“I’m also his friend. And I care about his wellbeing.” He gives Hob a significant look.

“Well, what…oh. Oh my god. Are you giving me the shovel talk right now?”

“What is a shovel talk?” drones a voice from the direction of Hob’s bedroom. Out steps Morpheus, King of Dreams and Nightmares, Lord of the Dreaming. He holds himself regally, like the Ruler that he is. 

He’s completely naked.

Hob is delighted. Matthew is mortified.

Dream walks into the kitchen. He takes the mug from Hob’s hand and pours himself a cuppa. He leans over and pecks Hob on the lips. 

“Morning, love,” Hob says, eyes shining. He’s clearly smitten. 

“Oh my god.” Matthew claps both wings over his eyes. “Jesus Christ, boss! Warn a guy next time, willya?”

Dream frowns. “Matthew? What are you doing here?”

Hob grins. “I think he’s come to make sure I don’t break your heart. Isn’t that right, Matthew?”

Matthew groans, eyes still covered. “Boss, will you please put some clothes on?”

Dream looks down at himself. “Oh. Right. Sorry.” Immediately he manifests a coal-black satin robe, white stars winking in and out of the fabric as he moves. 

“I wasn’t complaining,” Hob smirks.

Matthew glares at him.

For some reason, Dream finds this extremely funny. He starts chuckling, which makes Hob break into a grin. Hob snorts, causing Dream to break into giggles. Uncontrollable giggles.

Matthew stares.

Soon all control is abandoned. Both Hob and Dream are laughing so hard that they’re crying. Dream’s awful, awful laugh sounds like the honking of several geese. Hob descends into high pitched giggles that go on and on.

Finally, they both collapse onto the sofa, laughter softly fading. They turn toward each other, eyes twinkling. Dream reaches for Hob’s hand and places a kiss on his knuckles. Hob responds by stroking Dream’s cheek and gracing him with a look of pure adoration.

They completely ignore Matthew.

Well, then.

Matthew discreetly takes his leave. Thank goodness the window is still open.

As he flies back to the Dreaming, Matthew contemplates what he’s just witnessed. Clearly Dream and Hob adore each other. It’s definitely mutual. There’s no doubt they’re both in it for the long haul.

Will it last forever? Who’s to know, except maybe Destiny. 

Matthew thinks it just might.

make out dirty with me and tell me who i really am (yours, only yours)

Restricted

Now, this was book two in the Sterling Family series This time it’s about Viv and Asher. I was not expecting that ending! I’m so frustrated but at least I can start the next book asap!  I’m anxious to see what is next. Be prepared for a bit of a cliffhanger ending on this one. So far I’m enjoying this series very much.

Okay so its not really talked about (I actually haven’t seen it talked about anywhere), but I like and very much appreciate this era of cartoons where boys don’t find romance gross, but very much support it.

I feel like in the 90s the default for boys in animated shows was “GIRLS? EW! COOTIES! KISSING? ROMANCE? GROSS!”

But now you have boys like 2017 Huey, Dewey and Louie; Cricket Green and Remy; Gene Belcher, Rudy, etc. who not only DON’T think romance is gross, but will go out of their way to setup romantic scenarios and proactively encourage chemistry of the people they care about.

And I’ve just found that so refreshing. 🥰🥰

Different Relationship Tropes In Greys Anatomy Couples Part 2

Warning: Flashing lights, potential spoilers, violence

Title: Night Dancer

Editor: SamuVFX

Song: Night Dancer

Artist: Imase

Anime: Call of the Night

Category: Romance

SILENT RECKONING

Retro Music Video AI Generated Dark Fantasy

Masterlist - The Seven Acts Series

Book Four/Seven

Part ¾

WC: 40k

PAIRINGS: Sim Jaeyun x Female Oc

CONTAINS: Body Damage, Trauma, mentioned depression, Arguing, Emotional Complexion, Self pity, Jealousy, Angst/Hurt/Comfort, Strangers to friends to Lovers, Silent Care, Chaotic Kid, Yearning, Tension, Drama, Lil bit of Comedy, Enha ensemble cameos, Confessions. Light smut. Lmk if I missed anything.

an: Story Four of Seven. The Tension is killing me here. He loves a girl that can drag him.

Part 1 ,Part 2 Part 3, Part 4

Jake (One Week Later)

Seorin was back to her bitchy self.

But not in the usual way, not the funny, sarcastic, I’ll snap your neck if you touch that way. No, this was different. This was distant. Ice cold. Her words were clipped, her eyes flat, and for some reason she was now dressing like she was scrubbing in for a 12 hour ER shift rather than living in his house. Baggy scrubs. Zip up hoodie zipped to her chin. Hair tied back like a soldier reporting for duty.

And Jake?

Jake was fucking losing it.

He hated it.

He loved it.

She was ignoring him on purpose, he was sure of it. When he made a joke, she didn’t even scoff. When he thanked her for helping him up earlier, she didn’t roll her eyes. She just nodded and walked away like he was a sack of potatoes and not Sim Jaeyun, soccer legend, patient from hell, and apparently someone with a raging problem for bossy nurses with sharp eyes and mean mouths.

And right now?

Right now, she was hovering over him, squatting beside the mat as she gently pressed his knee back toward him, hands careful, fingers cool and sure, the very tip of her tongue resting against her bottom lip. Biting it. Again.

He was sweating.

Not from the stretch.

Not from the brace digging into his skin or the pressure on his newly forming scar tissue.

From her. From the way her glasses slid down her nose. From the way her think lashes fluttered when she concentrated. From the goddamn silence.

His breath hitched. His hands clenched. And then, without thinking, he said, “Stop.”

Her hands froze on his leg. Her head snapped up so fast he almost forgot how much pain he was in.

She looked startled. Not scared. Not even annoyed. Just…confused.

“Sorry,” she said quickly, drawing her hands back. “I wasn’t trying to push too far-”

“No,” he said, sitting up fast enough to make the brace groan. “Not that.”

She blinked.

He stared straight at her. Right into those dark eyes. “If you bite your fucking lip one more time…” Her brows lifted. “…I’m gonna bite it for you.”

Silence.

Thick. Heavy. Smoking at the edges.

Seorin stared at him like he’d just grown a second head, her lips parted slightly, and for once she didn’t have a comeback. Not a single curse. Not a shove to the shoulder. Not even a sigh.

Just…silence.

And those eyes. Those fuck you I’m unbothered eyes. Except they weren’t unbothered now. They were wide. Slightly surprised. And maybe maybe just a little bit interested.

Jake’s chest rose and fell. He hadn’t meant to say it.

Well he had. But not out loud. Not in her face.

Not while sitting on the damn floor like a wounded man trying to flirt with a woman who could crush him emotionally and physically with one look.

Still, he didn’t take it back. Didn’t apologize. Didn’t break eye contact.

And for a split second, he swore he saw her lips twitch like she was going to laugh.

Or curse him out. Maybe both.

Then she stood. Brushed off her hands. Looked down at him with a blank face that didn’t fool him for a second.

“Do your wall slides alone today,” she said flatly. “And don’t break your other leg fantasizing.”

Then she walked out.

Jake laid back on the mat with a groan equal parts pain and frustration.

Yeah.

He was so screwed.

Seorin

She was hot.

And bothered.

And pissed the fuck off.

Four weeks. Four weeks of hell and sarcastic comments and veiny forearms and cocky smirks and a man who was technically her patient, and now, now he had the audacity to say something like that to her?

“If you bite your fucking lip again, I’ll bite it for you.”

Who the hell says that to their nurse? Who the hell means it?

And more importantly why the hell was her brain stuck on it like a scratched record?

The water in the shower hit her too hot, steam curling around her face as she braced both hands against the wall, head bowed, wet strands of hair clinging to her cheeks and neck. She needed to breathe. Needed to forget the way Jake had looked at her, voice low and dangerous, like he meant every word. Because he probably did.

The man was touch starved, clearly. Stuck at home for weeks. No teammates. No friends over. Just her. The nurse. With a pulse and a pair of legs. Of course he was horny. He was a man.

It didn’t mean anything.

Didn’t matter that his stupid arms were bigger than her waist.

Didn’t matter that his abs could crack concrete.

Didn’t matter that when he ran a hand through that fluffy shampoo commercial hair she had to literally turn her head before she melted.

Didn’t matter that his lips, his fucking lips were always slightly parted, plush and pink, like they were waiting to be kissed or cursed at.

She was not going to fall for this.

She was not going to be the dumb woman who caught feelings for her patient.

She lathered shampoo through her hair with a frustrated grunt, trying not to picture those same hands running through his own hair, or gripping the arms of his wheelchair when she got too close, or…

God.

She nearly dropped the bottle when her brain tried to play out a fantasy scenario. Bad brain. Evil brain.

What was wrong with her?

This wasn’t like her. She was a professional. A damn good one. She didn’t swoon. She didn’t get distracted. And she sure as hell didn’t stare at Jake when he rolled past shirtless like she was in a goddamn drama.

But when he looked at her today really looked at her it wasn’t just hunger. It was something else. Something raw. Something that made her throat go dry and her knees go soft.

She hated it.

She hated him.

Except she didn’t.

Not even a little bit.

That was the real problem.

He had no right..NO right to roll into her life with his infuriating grins and stupidly kissable mouth and throw her off like this.

She rinsed off fast, stepped out of the shower like the bathroom had wronged her, and toweled off with unnecessary force.

She needed to pull herself together. Right now. Before she walked out there and did something irreversible.

Like bite him first.

Jake

The shift was subtle.

Too subtle, if she thought Jake wouldn’t notice.

But he did.

Oh, he definitely did.

It started a few days ago right after he’d told her he’d bite her lip if she didn’t stop biting it herself. Since then, Seorin had been walking a razor thin line between flustered professionalism and quiet implosion, and Jake? Jake was eating it up like his morning smoothie.

He played it cool. Too cool. On purpose.

The way her breath hitched when he leaned in to grab something near her shoulder even though he could’ve asked. The way her fingers twitched when she adjusted the brace on his leg, hesitating like it burned her to touch him now. The way her thighs clenched…he noticed, of course he fucking noticed when he dropped his voice low one night and called her a rude name just to test the waters.

“Bossy little tyrant.”

She’d blinked at him like he’d slapped her. And then rolled her eyes so hard he thought they might fall out. But her ears had flushed pink. Her voice stuttered on her next sentence.

Yeah, he was meaner. Not with his words but with his patience. With his actions. With his ability to drag this out until she cracked wide open.

Jake had never been the kind of guy to beg for attention. He didn’t have to. People usually offered it on a silver platter. But with Seorin it wasn’t like that. She didn’t care that he used to be on posters or that a fan account once called his jawline “weapon grade.” She didn’t care that he was rich, that he was famous, that he had a smile that made girls scream.

She gave none of that energy.

And God, he liked it. A whole fucking lot.

Maybe too much.

Maybe in a dangerous, he’d-kill-a-man-for-her kind of way.

Jake had been through hell the past few weeks. Lost his game. Lost his control. Lost pieces of himself he didn’t know he’d miss. But then this bossy, beautiful, bulletproof woman walked into his house and treated him like he was just a stubborn patient not a fallen idol.

And now?

Now he was on a mission.

Not to just make her laugh or smile or touch him a little longer than necessary.

No.

He wanted her to break.

To need him the way he was starting to need her.

So he had a plan. A slow burn of teasing glances, whispered threats, shirtless mornings, and calling her nurse in a tone that didn’t sound anything like respect.

She thought she could out stubborn him.

That was cute.

But Jake had all the time in the world. No games to train for. No schedules. Just her.

Her and that little twitch in her jaw when he leaned in and said her name like it was a sin.

He wasn’t going to lose her. No way in hell.

Not when she was the one thing keeping him sane.

Not when she looked at him like he was real, even when he felt like nothing.

He’d already lost soccer.

He wasn’t going to lose this too.

Even if it meant being the one to snap first.

He had no idea what he was thinking when he invited her.

Scratch that he knew exactly what he was thinking.

“You’re coming with me,” he’d said that morning, smug and smugger, like a man with zero shame and a full tank of ego.

Seorin had looked at him like he’d suggested marriage, but an hour and one outfit change later, here she was sitting across from him at a long, too loud table surrounded by the chaos that was his stupid friends.

God help him.

They were all here all of them.

Sunghoon, of course, immediately clocked her energy. The dry humor, the sarcasm, the unimpressed stare; how had these two not been best friends before? Watching them banter was like watching a mirror argue with itself. Sunghoon didn’t even curse like she did, but they both had that I’ll kill you with one glance vibe that made Jake wonder if he’d made a mistake bringing them together.

Heeseung? That bastard was already laughing like he was watching stand up. “You actually said that to a patient?” he wheezed at one point, nearly choking on his soda.

Sunoo had shifted to her side of the table halfway through appetizers and was currently whispering like they were plotting world domination. Jake only caught a glimpse of the notes Sunoo was scribbling in her phone before cackling, “Manipulation 101: Blink Twice and Cry for Sympathy.”

Ni-ki, God help him, kept sending Jake very loud, very obvious looks.

The ‘So that’s your girl, huh?’ kind.

Jake tried to glare. Ni-ki just grinned harder.

And Jungwon. Calm, smug Jungwon. The leader of chaos. Sitting there like he had seen the prophecy and was waiting for it to play out. He sipped his drink with the kind of patience that made Jake want to throw a fork across the room.

Jay was the worst. Subtle glances between Jake and Seorin. More subtle thumbs ups. Smirks like he knew the ending before the first chapter had even started. Jay was clocking all the tea and apparently had no intention of keeping it to himself if the gleam in his eye meant anything. Jake didn’t understand how this asshole was so happy when Rinnie has been ignoring him for days.

Jake wanted to die.

And yet…he loved it.

He loved seeing Seorin in this chaos, under pressure, in her element and also not. Her cheeks were flushed from the heat and attention. Her voice was sharp, her laugh rare but real. She rolled her eyes so many times at the guys, he thought they’d get stuck. But she didn’t retreat. She held her ground.

And Jake?

Jake was watching her like he didn’t already spend 24 hours a day with her.

Something was wrong with him.

Or maybe so right it was dangerous.

Because this version of Seorin, stuck in the middle of his pack, biting into spicy tofu while cursing out Sunghoon with a smirk on her face was doing things to him.

Unholy things.

And maybe, maybe, he had a thing for watching her squirm a little. For watching her snap back. For watching her try to keep it together in front of seven very nosy men who had no concept of privacy.

He’d never thought about it before but maybe pressure was his kink.

Or maybe Seorin under pressure was his kink.

Either way, Jake didn’t want to look away. Not now. Not ever.

And when Seorin turned and caught him staring, giving him a flat look like she knew what he was thinking?

Yeah. He was fucked.

Seorin

The second the bathroom door clicked shut, Seorin exhaled like she’d just escaped a hostage situation.

What the actual fuck was that.

She turned the lock, leaned against the door, and pressed her palms to her face, trying to will her heart to stop acting like a drumline at Coachella. No. Absolutely not. She was not going to have a cardiac episode over Sim Jaeyun and his annoying charm factory of a friend group.

She marched over to the mirror and stared at herself. Her light pink lipstick was holding on for dear life, and her hair had that messy cute look she hated. Too effortless. Too approachable. Her blue blouse was slightly wrinkled from leaning back in the booth, and she hated how warm her cheeks looked. Flushed. Like she was…happy.

Ugh.

She pulled out her phone and opened her messages, thumbing over to her friend’s contact, Airi. yes she was close friends with Airi, nope, no one knew. She helped birth her child when they were short staffed, you bond over that sort of thing. 

[Seorin 🧪]:

your bf’s friends are clinically insane. every single one.

also sunghoon might be my twin brother idk.

She stared at the text. Debated.

Added:

jake keeps looking at me like i’m the dessert. if he does it again i’m jumping into traffic.

also i can’t stop staring at his hands. tell nobody.

Airi replied instantly.

[Airi 👑]:

LMFAOOO I KNEW IT.

HES INTO YOU.

also not you crushing on his hands 💀 u need help

Seorin sighed. Hard.

“Help won’t fix this,” she muttered, typing out a new message.

[Seorin 🧪]:

he said i was his future girlfriend before we even got here. like casually. in front of people. do you know how insane that is?

[Airi 👑]:

girl. be fr. that’s his way of staking claim. man’s barking without barking.

you’re SCREWED.

also… how’d u look tonight 👀

She caught her own reflection again. Off the shoulder blue button blouse, flowing over tight black slacks. Clean makeup. Minimal jewelry. Professional…with just enough skin to hint at the fact that she had it.

Great. Now she was psychoanalyzing her own outfit choices.

She typed:

[Seorin 🧪]:

normal. i looked normal.

maybe hot normal.

Airi sent a string of emojis that made her want to hurl the phone into the sink.

She needed to leave this bathroom.

Or crawl out the window.

Or sedate herself.

Because Jake kept staring at her like she was something sweet and dangerous all at once, like he knew exactly what she was trying not to feel.

And the worst part?

She was starting to feel it anyway.

She clicked her phone off. Took one last breath. One last look.

You’re his nurse. He’s your patient. You’re here for six more weeks. Don’t be stupid.

She unlocked the door.

And the moment she stepped out and saw Jake at the table laughing, secret dimples deep and hoodie sleeves pushed up to his elbows, showing those veins.

She knew.

She was so, so screwed.

The night had gone better than she expected if better meant Seorin now knew the full names, zodiac signs, and soul alignment of every man Jake had ever loved.

She stood outside the car now, arms crossed, hips leaning against the door, watching Jake deliver a Broadway worthy goodbye to his other five friends like they were shipping off to war instead of heading to their luxury apartments twenty minutes away.

Sunghoon stood beside her, hands in his pockets, hood over his head, expression unreadable…until she glanced up and broke the silence like a damn wrecking ball.

“So,” she said casually. “Are you going to fire me when I fuck your best friend?”

Sunghoon choked. On air. Existence. Reality.

His body jolted violently, like someone had tased him in the ribs. “I’m sorry what the fuck?”

He was wheezing, actually wheezing, bending slightly forward with wide eyes like she’d just slapped him with a Bible. Seorin tilted her head, utterly unfazed.

“I said,” she repeated calmly, “are you going to fire me when I fuck your best friend?”

She watched with clinical fascination as a 27, almost 28 year old man suffered a near death experience in HD. The internal software reboot was practically visible. His brows furrowed, then lifted. Mouth opened, then closed. He blinked at her like she’d grown horns.

Then, in true Sunghoon fashion, he just shrugged.

“As long as you don’t break his leg again,” he muttered. “I don’t care.”

Seorin stared at him like he was the disappointment of her ancestors.

“I needed you to tell me no,” she hissed, half in horror, half in disbelief.

Sunghoon now fully recovered, looking smug as hell just grinned.

“What Jake wants, Jake gets,” he said, voice maddeningly nonchalant.

She blinked. “What does that mean?”

But Sunghoon was already walking away, hands back in his pockets, hood still up, like he hadn’t just dropped a bomb on her emotional state.

Seorin stood there in the cold night air, jaw tight, pulse betraying her.

That was not the answer she needed.

That was the answer that confirmed everything.

And she hated it.

God help her.

Jake

He didn’t ask for a drink.

But she gave him one anyway.

And now Jake sat silently at the kitchen table, fingers loosely wrapped around the cool glass, eyes locked on the woman across from him as if she held the secret to his sanity and maybe she did.

He didn’t know what the hell Sunghoon meant earlier, clapping his back like a proud father and saying, “Good luck.” What did that mean? What kind of luck? Was he dying? Was Sunghoon? Did Seorin say something?

Jake didn’t like being left out of inside jokes, especially when he suspected the punchline involved her.

But right now, he didn’t need answers. He needed restraint. And it was withering fast.

Because here she was, in his kitchen, like she belonged there. Shorts hugging her thighs. A baggy shirt hanging off one shoulder. Bare legs. Bare face. Hair piled lazily on her head. No effort, and yet he was unraveling at the seams like she’d cast some silent spell on him.

She wasn’t looking at him. Too busy being helpful. Or avoiding him. He wasn’t sure which one would drive him more insane.

His hoodie suddenly felt too warm, the collar stifling, and he adjusted it like it was the shirt’s fault and not the hunger in his blood. Because God…the way she moved. She wasn’t graceful she was efficient. Quick. Intentional. Like she was always trying not to take up too much space, but she didn’t realize she already took up every inch of his head.

Five weeks. That’s all he had left. Five more weeks of seeing her walk down the hall in those damn shorts. Five more weeks of her touching his leg with those smart, steady hands and not realizing what she was doing to him. Five more weeks of pretending he wasn’t absolutely, irrevocably obsessed.

But he wasn’t going to let it end there. Jake wasn’t the kind of man who took what he wanted. He earned it. And right now? He was earning her trust. Her attention. Her time.

And eventually, her.

He didn’t care if she was getting paid to take care of him. Didn’t care that she was supposed to be temporary.

If he had it his way, she wasn’t leaving. Not after this.

He watched her place the juice carton back in the fridge. Watched the way her fingers brushed the door closed, how she didn’t even glance at him as she leaned against the counter like this wasn’t the most charged silence in the history of mankind.

Jake cleared his throat. She looked at him.

Their eyes met.

Nothing was said. But something hung in the air.

And if he wasn’t careful, he was going to snap.

Not yet. But soon.

Seorin

It was getting harder to breathe around him.

Not because he said much, he didn’t. If anything, he was quieter now, watching her like she was a riddle he almost had the answer to, like if he stared long enough, something would click into place. And God, that look…it made her nervous in a way that pissed her off.

Because this was dangerous. This was not what she signed up for.

Seorin was used to pressure. Hospitals. Emergencies. Screaming families. Hell, even amputations didn’t faze her anymore.

But Jake?

Jake Sim in low hanging basketball shorts and hoodies that draped off his broad frame like a damn model? Jake Sim with his stupid messy hair, and the way his voice dropped half an octave whenever he called her out on biting her lip? Jake Sim recovering patient, certified menace, absolute problem was pressure of another kind entirely.

And she was cracking.

It wasn’t even obvious. Not yet.

But she felt it in the way her hands hesitated before adjusting his brace. In the way she rushed her notes at night, pretending she didn’t hear him humming some soft song in the next room. In the way she suddenly needed a second shower every other day.

She caught herself watching him sometimes. Not out of concern. Just…observing. His recovery was faster than anyone expected.

He had gone from barely walking to moving steadily with his crutches in record time. She knew he was still in pain he always would be for a while but he was tougher than she gave him credit for. Focused. Determined.

And…he looked at her differently now.

Less annoyed. Less guarded. More…intentional.

She wasn’t blind.

But she told herself it was just circumstance. They were in close quarters. She helped him bathe for God’s sake. Of course there’d be tension.

But it wasn’t just tension anymore. It was a shift.

A few nights ago, they’d brushed fingers over the Lego table accidentally. She had pulled away like she’d touched a stove. The way he smirked told her he felt it too.

Two days ago, she caught him watching her reflection in the oven door while she cooked. She burned the meat.

Yesterday, during his therapy, he held eye contact a little too long while she bent his knee gently toward his chest. She told herself his thigh muscle just tensed on its own. That his soft grunt wasn’t on purpose.

And today?

Today he hadn’t even said much. Just followed her with those cloudy, unreadable eyes.

The air had thickened between them.

Not with words. But with awareness.

By the time dinner ended silently, tensely, with him smirking and her pretending to be unaffected she almost sprinted to the sink just to keep her hands busy.

Her mistake was thinking the evening was over. That she could retreat to her room, maybe read, maybe ice her own wrist from overuse, and forget how tense her neck had become.

But of course..of course he waited until she turned toward the hall before calling out behind her, voice low and casual, “Hey, Seorin…can you bring me an ice pack?”

Her footsteps slowed.

She didn’t even think about it. Didn’t pause to ask what for. Didn’t hear the warning in his voice. Didn’t catch the slight shift in the atmosphere.

“Yeah,” she muttered over her shoulder, still walking toward the freezer. “Sure.”

That was her first mistake.

And maybe her last.

Jake

He counted her steps like a lunatic. One. Two. Three.

She was humming something under her breath. Not even real words, just a distracted tune she didn’t know she was doing.

Four. Five. Six.

He was seated, slouched in the chair with his good leg bent, injured one stretched slightly to the side like a trap disguised in comfort. His hoodie sleeves were pushed halfway up, forearms tense, the veins stark against his skin. His eyes didn’t leave her for a second.

Seven. Eight. Nine.

She bent down and pulled open the freezer, her hair sliding over one shoulder in a lazy wave. The bag of ice crackled in her hand, and she shut the door with her hip like she always did. She looked so normal. Like the tension between them hadn’t been pulling tighter and tighter, snapping molecules apart, threatening to explode for days.

Ten.

She turned.

Walked to him.

Unaware.

Or maybe pretending to be.

Jake’s heart was hammering. Not from nerves. No, this wasn’t fear.

It was need. Pure. Irrational. All consuming.

She reached him and extended the ice pack, raising a brow. “Here.”

He didn’t take it. Instead, he grabbed her. Not the ice. Not her hand. Her elbow. And in one clean yank his grip stronger than she expected she lost balance and landed right on his lap.

“What the hell Jake!”

He felt it, the exact second her thighs touched his. The inhale she tried to hide. The stuttering pulse in her wrist still held by his hand. She was warm. Livid. Embarrassed.

And so fucking beautiful.

“Are you fucking stupid?” she snapped, smacking his shoulder as her eyes widened with red hot rage. “Do you want to die? Do you want your leg to fall off? Is that it?!”

She tried to move, but his arm slid around her waist like iron muscle memory. She didn’t get far.

Her palm braced on his chest as she pushed herself up. “Let me go. This is the dumbest thing you’ve ever…Jake, I’m not joking!”

Still, she didn’t get up.

Still, his grip didn’t budge.

“You’re literally risking your whole rehab plan. God, I knew you were an idiot, but I didn’t think you were suicidal.”

He almost smiled. Almost.

She was flailing a little now, not violently, just enough to make her point. Her thighs shifted over his lap, and it took everything in him not to groan. Her hair smelled like whatever shampoo she’d used this morning, floral, warm, deadly.

Her hands gripped his hoodie now, trying to push off. “This isn’t….this is so inappropriate. You can’t just…Jake, I’m your nurse. You’re injured. You’re supposed to…”

“Do you ever,” he finally said, his voice low, slicing through her rant like a hot knife, “stop bitching?”

She froze. Her mouth dropped open, and he swore he saw her pupils dilate like a shockwave had hit her spine.

That was his cue.

Jake leaned forward slow, deliberate, the corner of his mouth tilting into a smirk and he moved his head in.

His lips ghosted close to hers, breath mingling. He watched her chest rise. Watched her freeze. Watched her want.

And then he kissed her.

He kissed her like it was the last thing he’d ever do. Like he’d die if he didn’t. Like kissing her was breathing. And he had been drowning for weeks.

It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t sweet. It was fire. And she was gasoline.

Her mouth opened beneath his without hesitation, like maybe she’d been waiting, like maybe she’d wanted this as badly as he had, and Jake didn’t hesitate to take advantage of it. His hand slid up her spine, anchoring her closer as he angled his head and deepened the kiss, tongue sliding against hers in a hot, desperate battle for control one he had no intention of winning or losing.

He just wanted more.

The moment she whimpered. Fuck something broke loose in his chest, something primal. It echoed down his spine, made his grip tighten, made his other hand drag over her thigh and around to palm the curve of her soft ass, dragging her flush against him.

She didn’t protest. Didn’t shove him. She melted. She gasped into his mouth like the sound surprised her, her hands fisting the front of his hoodie, holding on like she’d fall otherwise.

And maybe she would. Maybe he would too.

The kiss was messy, too much tongue, too much teeth, too much of everything. But that’s what made it good. That’s what made it real. Several weeks of dancing around each other, tension wound tighter and tighter like piano wire and now it was snapping.

Jake kissed her like she belonged to him. And the way she kissed him back? Told him she already did.

Her fingers slid up his neck, threading into his hair, tugging just hard enough to make him groan into her mouth. She bit his lip. He gripped her harder. He pressed his palm flat against the small of her back, pinning her in place, chest to chest, hip to hip, mouth to mouth. Her body was warm and soft in all the right places, and she tasted like tension and cherry lip balm and fuck, he was obsessed.

When she shifted on his lap, grinding the barest inch without meaning to, he broke the kiss just to breathe but only for a second.

“Jesus, Seorin,” he muttered against her lips, voice dark, hoarse, like gravel and need. “You kiss like a damn sinner.”

She didn’t respond. Didn’t need to.

Because then she kissed him again harder.

And he didn’t stand a chance.

He let her take this time, let her tongue sweep in and claim him, groaning low and deep when her hands curled tighter in his hair and her thighs clenched where they straddled him.

She kissed him like she was angry at herself, like maybe she hated that she wanted him this bad and Jake felt that in his soul.

She could pretend all she wanted, wear her scrubs and cold stares and sharp words like armor, but right now?

Right now she was in his lap. Kissing him like he was the last man on earth. And he was never going to forget this.

Jake pulled back again, just barely, their lips still brushing, breaths mingling, and his forehead dropped to hers as he whispered, “Don’t stop.”

Her eyes fluttered open, and for a second he saw everything. The fire. The guilt. The hunger.

And no matter how hard she was trying to hide it, it was written in the flush of her cheeks, the way her lips were swollen and slick, the way her chest rose and fell like she’d just run ten miles, and maybe she had. Maybe they both had, sprinting away from this since day one.

But now? Now they were here. And Jake was never letting her go.

Seorin

“Don’t stop.” That’s what he whispered.

And that’s what did it. Not the way he kissed her. Not the way he pulled her down onto his lap like he owned her. Not even the way he growled into her mouth like she belonged to him.

It was those two damn words.

She pulled back just enough to breathe, her voice low, lips swollen, eyes burning. “That sounds like a challenge.”

His smirk was lethal. “Then lose.”

That was it. That was the moment she snapped.

She grabbed the sides of his face and kissed him like war, teeth and tongue and everything in between. If he wanted fire, she would give him the whole damn inferno. Her hips rolled, slow and deliberate, grinding herself down against his lap, dragging a guttural noise from deep in his chest that made her thighs clench. He was hard. He was so hard.

And she was addicted.

His hands. God, his large veiny hands were on her ass again, large and warm and greedy. He was gripping her like she might disappear, like he had to memorize every curve, and she let him. She wanted him to. She curled one hand into his hoodie, the other into his hair, tugging, biting his bottom lip just enough to make him flinch.

He liked it.

His head dropped back for a second, lips parted, breath shaky and holy hell, she wanted to ruin him.

“You bite like it’s a love language,” he muttered, voice wrecked, and when she leaned in to do it again, he hissed through his teeth, then grabbed her hips and pulled her in harder. “Keep going, nurse. You might heal my whole damn soul.”

“Shut up,” she whispered against his jaw, dragging her lips along the stubble there, pressing kisses to the spot just under his ear before sinking her teeth into it lightly, but just enough to make him jolt. “You talk too much.”

“And you kiss like you’ve been waiting for this.”

He was right. And she hated that he knew.

But she didn’t deny it. She just kissed him harder.

His hands slipped under her oversized shirt, palms gliding up her back, dragging her closer, until there was nothing between them but heat and want and that dizzying, unrelenting tension that had been building for weeks. It was maddening how good his mouth felt, how perfectly her body molded to his, how his broad shoulders caged her in, giving her nowhere to run.

She didn’t want to run.

She wanted to stay right here, in his lap, in his hoodie, tasting his tongue and feeling his hands like they belonged on her.

And maybe they did.

He let out a soft groan when her hips rolled again, and the sound went straight through her, thick and rough like it was pulled from the pit of his chest. Her lips were tingling. Her thighs were shaking. And she didn’t care.

There was no guilt. No hesitation. Just this.

His mouth.

His hands.

His need.

And hers.

His eyes were blown wide now, pupils swallowing color, lips wet and parted, head tilted back against the chair like she was the storm he hadn’t seen coming. His hoodie was bunched in her fists, her thighs cradling his hips, her chest pressing to his as their breaths mingled. She felt his pulse where her palm rested on his neck fast and hot and racing to catch up to hers.

She was screwed.

She knew it. And she had never been happier about it.

Jake

That fucking tease.

She gave him the best night of his life and they didn’t even have sex.

Just one makeout session. One insane, brain scrambling, soul snatching makeout session.

And then?

She patted his damn shoulder. Like he was some sweet little soldier. Got off his lap with a little shift of her hips that nearly made him combust. Tossed her hair like it didn’t just suffocate him. Looked him dead in the eyes, smiled. Smiled!

“You better handle that.”

Handle that.

And walked the hell away. To her room.

Door shut. Locked.

Silence.

Jake was still sitting in the chair like an idiot, hoodie pushed up, hair a wreck, lips sore, and body tense in every direction. His palms were still tingling from where they held her, and the ghost of her weight still burned into his thighs like a curse.

He groaned. Loudly.

“Oh, she’s gasoline,” he muttered to himself, running a hand through his already messy hair. “Gasoline, matches, and a fucking nuisance.”

But God, if he didn’t love it.

She played him like a game she already knew she’d win. She took what she wanted. His breath, his thoughts, the control he had left and then walked away like he was the one getting attached.

And maybe he was.

Maybe he liked her just a little too much. Maybe the fact she never fell at his feet made her ten times hotter. Maybe the way she bit his lip would haunt his dreams for the next decade. Maybe the way she knew she drove him crazy made him want her more.

Yeah. He was so screwed.

And what the hell was he supposed to do now?

Go shower?

Punch a wall?

Write her a love letter?

He groaned again, grabbing a pillow and tossing it across the living room just for the hell of it.

“That woman,” he muttered, glaring at the closed hallway door like it personally offended him. “She’s gonna kill me. I’m not gonna survive this.”

But he was smiling.

God help him, he was smiling.

Because if this was war?

He couldn’t wait to fight dirty.

Seori

She wasn’t stupid.

No matter how big his hands were. No matter how good his mouth was. No matter how his hoodie hung off his broad shoulders like sin dipped in soft cotton.

Seorin had a plan.

She wasn’t some wide eyed girl fumbling into love just because a cocky soccer player with puppy eyes looked at her like she painted the sky.

No.

She wanted Sim Jaeyun to fall.

And fall hard.

Because she wasn’t the type to chase. She wasn’t the type to trip over charm or abs or attention. She was the type who made men beg.

So, yeah she kissed him back. Open mouthed, tongue first, fingers gripping his hoodie like it was the only thing anchoring her to earth. And yeah, maybe she bit him. Maybe she melted a little when he growled against her lips like she was the only thing he craved.

But afterward?

She smiled. Pat his shoulder. Told him to handle that. And left.

Because she was challenging him.

Letting him know who he was dealing with. That if he wanted her and she means truly wanted her it wouldn’t be because she was just there. It wouldn’t be because he was bored or broken or horny. It would be because he chose her. Because he couldn’t breathe right without her. Because he was on his knees admitting he wanted everything, her attitude, her sharp tongue, her soft touches, her hard-to-read heart.

He would have to say it. All of it.

So she shut the door behind her, stood with her back against it, and smiled to herself like a woman who just flipped the match over her shoulder and walked away.

Let him burn.

She knew what she was doing. She always did.

Because pretty girls don’t lose.

Not when they bite back.

It was just after noon when the quiet set in.

Jake had been unusually still that morning. No obnoxious singing. No sarcastic flirting. No smug comments about her thighs in shorts.
Just… silence.

At first, Seorin welcomed it. They were both walking a razor thin line lately, and any chance to breathe felt like a mercy. But something was off.

He hadn’t finished his breakfast. Barely touched his smoothie. And he hadn’t even complained when she added extra turmeric to his anti-inflammatory tea which he usually said tasted like “wet chalk and regret.”

Now he was in the living room, leg propped up, hoodie sleeves pushed to his elbows, just… sitting.No TV.

No Lego set spread across the table

Just Jake and the steady hum of nothing.

Seorin was in the kitchen checking his medication chart when she heard it.

A yell guttural and raw, loud enough to punch through the silence like a lightning strike.

She dropped the clipboard.

By the time she reached him, Jake was on the floor.

Not fully fallen just halfway, one arm braced against the couch, the other hand clutched over his knee. His face was pinched tight, eyes glossy with pain, and Seorin could see it in the tremble of his jaw.

“Hey hey, don’t move,” she said, sinking to her knees in front of him, her hands already reaching out, careful but firm. “What did you do?”

“Nothing,” he muttered through gritted teeth, and it was the worst kind of lie.

“Jake.”

“I just…I missed the couch,” he rasped, his voice rough and barely hanging on. “Was trying to stretch it. I didn’t twist it, I swear. Just…it fucking hurts today.”

He sounded defeated.

She exhaled slowly, her hands resting on the edge of his thigh, not applying pressure, just grounding him.

“Okay,” she said softly. “Okay. We’re not going to panic. I’ve got you.”

He was breathing harder now, and her chest squeezed tight when he dropped his head back against the cushion, eyelids squeezed shut like it was the only way to block the world out.

“I’m tired,” he muttered after a moment. “I miss running. I miss moving. Ni-ki sent me another picture of Layla and her dumb stuffed alpaca, and she looked so fucking happy without me. My teammates called earlier too. Said the new guy’s wearing my jersey number. They didn’t mean it like that, but shit.”

Seorin didn’t say anything.

She just leaned forward and gently placed her hands on either side of his head, thumbs brushing the sweat at his temples. She pulled him forward, guiding his head until it rested against her shoulder. Her heart was racing, but her voice was calm.

“You don’t have to pretend right now.”

His arms didn’t wrap around her, but his breathing slowed. Her shirt was damp under his cheek, and she could feel his fingers twitch against the floor.

“I’m not okay,” he said, voice cracking on the end.

“I know,” she whispered. “That’s why I’m here.”

They stayed like that for a while. No tension, no sharp words, no games. Just warmth and quiet and her holding him still as the storm passed.

Later, she would ice his leg and help him back to the couch. He would act like it didn’t happen. But she would remember.

She always did.

Because sometimes the best way to care for someone…Is to simply stay when they break.

Jake

The ceiling was starting to look familiar.

Not in a comforting way more like a stranger you kept bumping into in the hallway, one you couldn’t avoid no matter how much you wanted to. That’s what this silence felt like.

Jake laid there, arms tucked behind his head, the soft fabric of his hoodie bunching up beneath his neck. One foot stuck out from beneath the covers, the injured one propped slightly on a pillow, elevated like the rule following part of him demanded but the rest of him? Restless. Twisting and turning and replaying every second of the day on a loop.

Seorin.

She had held him.

Not fussed, not nagged, not called him an idiot for pushing himself. She had dropped to her knees in front of him, touched him with the kind of care that made something ache in his chest that wasn’t physical, and she had let him cry. On her shoulder. Her warm, calm, steady shoulder.

And it hadn’t been weird. She didn’t flinch. She didn’t pull away.

She didn’t make him feel like a burden.

Jake sighed, one arm coming up to rub across his face. He was warm all over, but it wasn’t fever. It was just her. The image of her kneeling in front of him, hands on his face, coaxing him back to earth with that voice that usually cut him like glass, but today? Today it had felt like cotton and honey and safety.

He was so screwed.

They had kissed. Sure. Hell, made out. He’d touched her, tasted her, claimed her mouth like it was the first sip of water after dying in the desert. That was lust. That was tension.

But this?

This was trust.

And Jake Sim didn’t know what to do with it.

He turned his head slightly, eyes flickering toward the small white monitor on the table beside his bed the one Seorin had set up weeks ago “in case of an emergency.”

He stared at the little gray call button for a moment.

And then he pressed it.

The beep was quiet. A soft little chime that echoed in the stillness.

He wasn’t even sure what he was hoping for.

Maybe she’d sleep through it.

Maybe she’d barge in with that face on the annoyed, You better be dying look that secretly made him want to smile.

Maybe she wouldn’t come at all.

He just…

He wanted to talk.

About anything.

About her. Because she knew everything about him, his injury, his meds, his food schedule, his sleep cycles, his guilty music tastes. And yet all he knew was that she bit her lip when she was thinking, called him an idiot twelve times a day, and looked unfairly gorgeous without even trying.

And he wanted more.

He wanted to know what made her cry.

What made her laugh when no one was watching.

What she dreamed about when she let herself feel safe enough to sleep deeply.

Jake’s eyes stayed locked on the door, chest rising and falling slowly, waiting.

Just waiting.

Because the truth was simple. The day had cracked something open in him.

And now…He couldn’t bear the thought of closing it again.

He swore he didn’t mean to press the damn call button. Okay, that was a lie.

It was just past 2 a.m., and he should’ve been asleep. His leg wasn’t bothering him. His chest was. Something about the day, the quiet, the memory of Layla’s paws against the hardwood, the voice note from his old teammate saying the field “feels weird without you”… it had all knotted into something heavy in his lungs.

So, yeah, maybe he pressed it.

He wasn’t even sure she’d come. But then there were the soft sounds of feet padding across the hallway floor and the gentle creak of his door pushing open.

She stood there, a little dazed, long blond hair falling over one shoulder, her face bare, flushed with sleep. She rubbed one eye like a kid, stifled a yawn, and blinked at him.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, voice low, tired but present.

Jake suddenly forgot what sadness was.

He shook his head slowly and patted the empty space next to him on the bed. “Nothing hurts,” he said. “Just…stay for a second?”

She hesitated only for a moment then padded over and sat on the edge of his bed in her own oversized hoodie and cotton shorts. Casual, effortless, and still the prettiest damn thing he’d ever seen in the dark.

“You know this button is for emergencies, right?” she said, voice teasing now, brushing her hair back with a flick.

He smirked. “It was an emergency.”

“Oh yeah?” She raised a brow.

“Yeah,” Jake replied, leaning back on his elbows, “I was having a crisis about not knowing what your favorite color is.”

Seorin rolled her eyes, but he saw the soft twitch of her lips. She nudged him in the leg gently, careful as always. “So you woke me up…because you wanted to chat?”

He looked at her, serious now. “I think I just like knowing you’re always going to come when I call.”

That did something. Her face faltered for a second, just a second but it was enough. She glanced away, clearly caught off guard, and brought her hand up to shield her expression, like that would save her from him.

Jake pushed up onto one elbow, catching her wrist in his hand with ease. “Don’t hide,” he murmured, letting the accent bleed through. “Look at me only, love.”

Her gaze shot back to his. A full glare, maybe but not really. There was a crack in her armor tonight, something warm beneath it. She didn’t pull away.

Jake’s fingers didn’t leave her wrist.

The room was too quiet now, the kind of quiet that filled every corner with something unsaid. Something unspoken, but felt.

“What do you want to know?” she asked.

He smiled, slow and soft. And didn’t answer.

Not yet.

Seorin

She didn’t know what she expected when she shuffled into his room that night, but it wasn’t this sitting cross legged on the edge of his bed in her hoodie and cotton shorts, hair loose down her back, while Jake Sim stared at her like he didn’t just call her here for something simple.

The room was dimly lit, just the soft bedside lamp casting a glow, and his bed was more comfortable than hers. What the hell kind of mattress did he have? It practically cradled her hips and spine like a cloud. It was warm in here too, not just in temperature but…in presence. Him.

She sat there quietly, letting the silence settle between them until he broke it with a low voice and a curious tilt of his head.

“What were you like as a kid?”

The question caught her off guard.

She glanced at him, a skeptical brow arching. “What, like my blood type and first pet’s name too?”

Jake smirked, but there was no teasing in his eyes this time. Just quiet interest.

Seorin exhaled, letting herself fall back until her shoulder brushed his bicep as she rested on her hands. “Fine,” she muttered. “But you’re not allowed to laugh.”

He gave a scout’s honor salute, already grinning.

“I was shy,” she started, watching his brows shoot up.

“Bullshit,” he said immediately.

“No, really,” she said, laughing softly despite herself. “I was ridiculously shy. I barely talked to anyone in school at least in the beginning. I didn’t like being around big groups, always felt like I was floating on the outside of everything. My mom said I was born with an ‘old soul’ or whatever. I just…didn’t like what other kids liked.”

Jake listened, his head tilted against the wall, one hand still absently playing with the monitor cord like he wasn’t trying to memorize every word.

“I started reading at three,” she said. “Full books by five. Writing short essays for fun by seven. I hit milestones early. My parents always said I was scary smart.”

He chuckled. “Terrifying, I bet.”

“Yup. Skipped a few grades. Graduated high school at fifteen. College at nineteen. And by twenty I was in a white coat, signing on full time.”

Jake hummed, nodding. “That part I already knew.”

“Well,” she added, glancing sideways at him, “you didn’t know I used to cry when my mom tried to curl my hair for piano recitals.”

He barked out a laugh at that.

“She still whines when I show up for visits in scrubs or jeans. She’s like…a fairy on glitter steroids. All high heels, chiffon, and scented hand cream. Thinks I’m committing a crime against fashion.”

Jake’s grin grew.

“My dad’s the opposite. Football obsessed. Sunday games are holy in our house. He still calls me every week to complain about the refs like I actually care.”

“You don’t?”

“God, no,” she said, laughing under her breath. “But I pretend for him.”

Jake went quiet again, just watching her. She could feel his eyes tracing her features even in the low light. She didn’t flinch away this time. She let him look.

And maybe…maybe it wasn’t so bad, letting someone see her. Not when he listened like that. Not when he didn’t interrupt, didn’t twist her words or ask why she had grown up so fast. He just let her be.

Seorin shifted, sitting up a little straighter, her knees pulled to her chest. The air was still warm. So was he.

“What else do you want to know?” she asked, softly now.

Jake didn’t answer right away.

But she knew this was only the beginning.

It had been quiet for a while. The kind of silence that didn’t feel heavy, just full. Full of unsaid things, of stories they hadn’t told yet. Of questions still waiting to be asked.

Jake was stretched out next to her now, head propped on his hand, watching her like he had all the time in the world.

“Favorite color?” he asked suddenly.

She blinked, thrown off by how easy the question was. She narrowed her eyes. “What kind of psychological trap is this?”

He grinned. “Answer the question, Han Seorin.”

She rolled her eyes. “Green.”

He nodded slowly, like he was filing that away like it was state secret. “Makes sense.”

“Oh yeah? How?”

“You’re prickly. But it’s peaceful once someone gets past your thorns.”

She stared at him. “That was weirdly poetic.”

“I contain multitudes.”

She snorted and rested her cheek on her bent knees.

He stretched again, arm behind his head. “Okay, next one. Favorite song right now?”

She winced, groaning into her hoodie sleeve. “You’re gonna laugh.”

“I already want to.”

She gave him a death glare, but there was a smile playing on her lips. “It’s Bouncy by Ateez.”

Jake went still.

Then he made the most dramatic face possible. “Ohh, you’re an Ateez girl?”

“Don’t start,” she warned, a finger pointed at him.

“Oh, I’m starting,” he laughed, full and open. “I just didn’t expect you to be a loud anti like ‘Wooyoung I kiss you photo cards’ in your spare time.”

“It’s a banger, okay? And I don’t do that.”

“I’m not judging,” he said, holding his hands up. “Just mentally preparing for when you play it in my car one day.”

“You wish I’d get in your car.”

“Pretty sure I’ve already kissed you stupid on my kitchen chair, sweetheart.”

She threw a pillow at him. He caught it with ease, laughing, then settled again, eyes softening.

A beat passed.

Then he said it— ow, quiet, direct, “Have you ever dated?”

Her fingers curled into the comforter.

“This was supposed to be a holy moment,” she deadpanned.

“I’ll pray,” he said with the fakest solemn face, pressing his palms together. “Dear God, please help Seorin stop being so hot and mysterious-”

“Shut up.”

Jake grinned, but he waited.

She took a breath. “Yeah…I’ve dated. A few times. But only one real relationship.”

“Ah,” he murmured.

“From eighteen to twenty. We met in a book study group. He was sweet. Kind. Real gray cat vibes.”

Jake made a face like he tasted something bitter. “Let me guess. Glasses, physics major, wore loafers with no socks?”

“Psychology,” she corrected. “And Vans.”

“Close enough.”

She smirked. “Anyway, it didn’t work out.”

“Why?”

She paused. “We were just really different. And I think I scared him.”

Jake raised a brow.

She shrugged. “I was working full time by twenty. I was tired and focused and well..me. He wanted to go out more, meet people, do karaoke nights with the others. I was blunt, rude, and didn’t care for petty things. I was just…older in the way I moved through the world.”

Jake was watching her again with that unreadable gaze.

“We’re still friends though. He’s married now. Great guy. His wife is lovely.”

“No bad blood?”

She shook her head. “None. I was actually happy when we ended. I think I needed to know it wasn’t me being broken…just that we didn’t fit. He was a little boring, if I’m honest.”

That finally made Jake crack.

A full, delighted laugh left him as he dropped his head back against the pillow. “You would say that with a straight face.”

“It’s not my fault he talked about emotional growth like it was a business plan.”

Jake was still laughing, that kind of laugh that made his stomach tighten and his eyes crinkle at the corners.

She smiled quietly, watching him through her lashes.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. But something was shifting something they both felt. The teasing was soft, but the honesty was real.

And it was only just beginning.

Jake

She was close now closer than she’d ever been without yelling at him or calling him an idiot. Her legs stretched out next to his, their shoulders almost brushing. The distance between them felt smaller tonight, like whatever barrier had always hung between them had slowly melted away under the weight of whispered truths and late-night stillness.

Jake tilted his head on the pillow, watching her from the corner of his eye as she absentmindedly picked at the seam of his blanket. Her face was softer in the dim light, no sharp edges, no walls, no sarcasm biting at her lips. Just Seorin. Just her.

And God, she looked beautiful. Almost too beautiful. The kind of pretty that didn’t need permission to ruin a man.

He thought about what to ask next, sifting through the usual questions, dreams, fears, first love, regrets but they all felt too rehearsed. Too…expected. And Seorin didn’t do expected. She deserved better than something pulled from a Buzzfeed quiz.

So he thought deeper.

And when it came to him, it hit like a wave.

He turned his head toward her, slowly, carefully, eyes locked on her profile. And for a moment, his heart did something traitorous—stuttered.

She looked so at home in his room. Like she belonged there.

“Seorin,” he said quietly.

She looked over, brows raised, calm, open. “Yeah?”

His voice was low, unshaken, but real. “When you’re not being strong for everyone else…when it’s just you…what do you need?”

That was it.

No teasing. No biting flirtation. Just truth.

And he meant it.

Because he wanted to know not what made her tick, not what made her laugh, not even what made her soft but what kept her going.

And what might finally let her rest.

She didn’t speak at first.

Instead, she blinked at him like the question was foreign. Like no one had ever taken the time to ask her something like that.

And then she said it, soft and a little stunned, “No one’s ever asked me that before.”

Jake’s chest swelled with something stupid something warm and stupid and proud. Like a damn Labrador who just fetched his first stick and was waiting to be told he was a good boy. But he didn’t joke, not this time. He just stayed still, letting her know she could take her time.

Seorin turned her head, eyes not quite on him but somewhere beyond, resting on a spot on the wall like her memories had anchored there.

“I think…” she began, slowly, “I think I just want to be wanted.”

Jake’s heart clenched. She didn’t say it dramatically. Didn’t toss it out like a sob story. She said it like a fact, like the sky was blue, like it was just the way her bones were shaped.

“I like helping people. Always have. I think it started when I was a kid my dad used to get these bad migraines after football practice, and I’d be the one getting him water, or rubbing his shoulders. I was like seven,” she chuckled softly, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“And then it became a thing,” she continued. “Helping. Fixing. Being the person people call when they’re falling apart. It makes me feel useful, like I have a purpose. Like I matter. But…”

She paused.

Jake didn’t dare move.

“…I think what I really want is to be seen. Wanted. Chosen. Not because I’m helpful. Not because I can patch up a wound or make someone feel better. But just because I’m me.”

Her voice had dipped so low, it was barely above a whisper now.

“I want someone to stay. Even when I’m not useful. Even when I’m tired or quiet or not dressed up. I don’t want to have to work to be enough all the time.”

She finally turned her gaze to him.

“I know it sounds selfish.”

Jake didn’t say anything right away.

Because if he opened his mouth, he might say You’re already more than enough.

Or I see you, Seorin. Or worse, I think I’m starting to fall for you.

So instead, he swallowed all that down and gave her what she deserved.

“No,” he said quietly. “That doesn’t sound selfish. That just sounds human.”

And she smiled. Not a full smile, not the kind she gave his friends when they teased her or when she beat Ni-ki at Mario Kart. No, this one was softer. Real. A little sad. A little relieved.

Like maybe she finally felt seen.

Jake didn’t say it, but in his head, he swore it.

I’ll be the one who stays.

Seorin

The silence in Jake’s room wasn’t awkward.

It was full.

Full of things unspoken. Of words hanging in the air like dust caught in light. Seorin could still feel the weight of what she had just said lingering in her chest how she’d admitted she craved being wanted more than being useful, how no one had ever asked her what she needed, what she hoped for. And then he had. Sim Jaeyun, with his stupidly big heart and stormy eyes.

He hadn’t said much in response. He didn’t need to.

He just listened. Like he actually wanted to know her.

And somehow, that was worse.

She sat beside him, legs stretched out next to his, her back lightly touching the headboard. His arm brushed hers when he adjusted himself, and she felt the heat pulse in her chest like a slow, curling ember.

Her fingers were folded together in her lap. Tightly.

She could feel him watching her out the corner of his eye, not with lust or amusement but with something softer. Something almost tender. It made her nervous. Made her want to run.

But she didn’t.

Instead, after a long pause, she let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding. Then, slowly, so slowly, like her body wasn’t sure it had permission she leaned sideways, just enough that her shoulder bumped his bicep. He didn’t move. Didn’t flinch. Just stayed still, letting her close that distance.

And then she let her head rest on him. Gently. Just a light press against the upper curve of his arm.

For a moment, she braced herself. For him to shift away, or joke, or say something cocky. But he didn’t.

Instead, she felt him exhale and it was relief.

She wasn’t sure how long they sat like that. Maybe a minute. Maybe five. The warmth from his body sank into her skin, calming something she didn’t even know had been screaming all day.

He shifted just a little, adjusting his arm so she could settle better. His fingers grazed hers only briefly but the contact felt electric.

She didn’t pull away.

Neither did he.

“Seorin,” he said softly, barely above a whisper. His voice sounded different, lower, warmer, almost unsure. “You know…I like knowing you trust me.”

She swallowed. “I don’t trust easily.”

“I know,” he murmured. “That’s why it means something.”

She didn’t answer, but her fingers moved just a bit closer to his.

Her pinky touched his.

Jake didn’t push. He didn’t lace their hands or press her for more. He just stayed there warm and solid and quiet beside her.

And for the first time in a long, long time. Seorin didn’t feel like she had to run.

She liked him.

She really liked him.

And that scared her more than anything.

Seorin woke up feeling lighter.

Not in the weightless, floating on air kind of way, but in the way her chest didn’t feel like it was being held hostage by invisible hands. Her breath came easier. Her thoughts quieter. For once, she wasn’t instantly preparing for a battle with her own mind.

There was warmth around her. Not the uncomfortable heat of tangled blankets or summer mornings, but something solid and grounding. A slow rise and fall of breath behind her, a chest pressed to her back, and an arm strong and steady wrapped around her middle like it belonged there.

Jake.

And for some reason, she didn’t flinch.

Instead, she laid there, still, wrapped up in the smell of clean cotton, citrus shampoo, and the man who had unknowingly tangled himself into her life. His arm was cradling her to him, hand resting just beneath her ribs, fingers curled like she was something precious. Like she wasn’t temporary.

And wasn’t that just the most ironic damn thing?

She had told herself not to get attached. Had spent weeks building little walls, dry comments, annoyed sighs, sarcastic eye rolls. She came here to do a job, to help him heal and move on. That was it.

But somewhere between late-night call buttons and stolen glances, between bickering over smoothie flavors and biting his lip on his kitchen chair she stopped seeing him as a patient.

Maybe it was when he let her scold him in a LEGO aisle like a toddler and didn’t even argue back.

Maybe it was when he asked what she wanted from life and actually listened.

Maybe it was right now with his arm tucked around her, holding her like someone important.

Her chest clenched gently, and she turned her head just a little, enough to see his face. God, he was beautiful like this. No smirk, no cocky one liners. Just soft features and sleep creased skin and those unfairly long lashes brushing his cheeks. His lips were slightly parted, and a strand of hair had fallen over his forehead.

Peaceful.

And hers. Just for this moment.

She studied him longer than she should have, memorizing each line of his face, the quiet of him. Wondering if just maybe she didn’t have to be scared to fall.

Not if he was the one waiting to catch her.

The thought scared her more than anything else ever had.

Gently, so gently, she lifted his arm from around her waist, careful not to wake him. She sat up, feet finding the floor, her breath catching in her throat for a moment as she looked back.

He didn’t stir. Just curled into the spot she left behind like he hadn’t even noticed the shift.

She stood, padded quietly out the door, pulling it shut behind her with a soft click.

She had a lot of thinking to do.

And for once she wanted to.

The kitchen was filled with the sound of a low blender hum and the faint crackle of oil in a pan. Morning light poured in through the windows, soft and pale, painting the marble counters gold.

Seorin stood barefoot in a faded pair of navy pajama shorts and a loose white tee that dipped just slightly off one shoulder, her hair pulled into a lazy bun.

Her hands worked without thinking chopping fruit, scooping rice, cracking an egg over the pan with a flick of her wrist.

Jake’s smoothie went into the taller glass, his meds already lined up next to it on a small plate. Hers was more citrusy because she liked tart and hated bananas, and his, of course, was a creamy, berry loaded sugar bomb that probably wouldn’t pass any real dietitian’s standards. But she made it anyway. Just like she did every morning now.

Because apparently, this was her life now waking up in his arms and pretending not to feel anything about it.

She sighed, hands pausing over the cutting board.

What the hell was she doing?

Her fingers curled around the edge of the counter, eyes dropping to the bright chunks of apple and strawberries still waiting to be plated. She could hear the echo of Sunghoon’s laugh from days ago when she bluntly asked if she’d get fired for sleeping with Jake.

He didn’t even hesitate. Just shrugged and said as long as she didn’t break Jake’s leg again, he didn’t care.

But that was a joke. All of it had been a joke.

This wasn’t.

This was her standing in the kitchen of a man who smiled at her like she was the sunrise and pulled her into his lap like he couldn’t breathe without her close. This was sleeping curled in his bed because he called for her. This was him asking questions that made her soul feel seen. Not flirted with. Seen.

And what if it goes too far?

What if she falls deep, really deep and it turns out to be nothing?

What if they break each other’s hearts?

What if he decides, in a few weeks when his knee is healed and he’s back to being Sim Jaeyun, beloved soccer star, that this was just a recovery phase thing a weird blip in his life that had a nurse shaped bookmark?

What if he only ever sees her as the nurse?

Her heart clenched as she moved the eggs from the pan to the plate, plating everything neatly beside the bowls of rice and kimchi. It was too quiet. Too still. Like the kitchen was watching her come undone in slow motion.

She didn’t want to just be friends. That much she knew.

She didn’t even think she could go back to just being his nurse after this. And that terrified her more than anything.

Because Jake he made her feel like herself in ways no one else had. Not even her ex. Not even the few people she had ever let in.

She needed to talk to someone.

Not text. Not vent into the void.

She needed someone to look her in the eye and tell her she wasn’t crazy for waking up wrapped around a man and liking the way it felt.

And she sure as hell needed that talk without said man looming nearby, all soft voice and plump lips and veiny forearms and that damn hoodie he wouldn’t stop wearing.

Golden retriever men should not be allowed to have arms like that.

She groaned, forehead briefly thunking against the fridge door before she pulled it open to grab cold water.

One conversation. That’s all she needed.

Maybe she’d call her cousin. Or maybe Airi. God knows Airi would give her an unfiltered, probably aggressive opinion.

She poured two glasses of water, added ice, and took one long breath before turning to finish setting the table.

The kitchen looked perfect now. Organized. Controlled.

Too bad her heart wasn’t.

When you kick out your lying, cheating ex who dares lay his hands on you, the first thing you do is take back your home! Do all the little things he would hate the most.

🫦 Fake Dating
💞 Friends to Lovers
✨ Tragic Past
🖕 Abusive Cheating Ex
👩‍❤️‍💋‍👨 Small Town Romance

Hindsight by Justine Bennett - Coming 6.25.26 - Preorder today!
Universal Link: https://justinebennettauthor.com/hindsight

I’ve returned to reading regency romance novels and omg 🥵🥵🥵