#fan fic year in review

[beshrew-my-very-heart]

A year in fic, 2024

So, I saw a few posts going around doing like a retrospective on all the fics that people had written this year, and I thought... it'd be a good thing to do myself, too, to take stock of everything I did. Looking at some of the things I'm proud of, and the big one that I'm not.

According to AO3, in terms of overall stats, there were....

Kudos: 1010 Bookmarks: 331 Subscriptions: 84 Word Count 945,003 Hits: 27868 But I do think that for some reason, the way they count it pulls some of the fics that were going on for more than a year from 2023 into 2024, so those might not be exactly right. A breakdown of the different fics and my thoughts on them are under the cut.

Not Myself Today - Glee - Kurt/Sam/Puck

January - May The fact that writing Soul Soul Revolution fell apart for me is one of the things I'm most ashamed about this year. For context, I've been writing the series since... 2021, and I had so much planned out ahead of me for the story. And then toward the middle of 2023, my mom got very ill. During that time, I forced myself to keep writing, trying to keep a sense of normality in my day to day life. That continued all the way through to the middle of 2024, when my mom passed a positive milestone in her treatment, I had to miss a posting date because of an emergency, and then missed the next one because of a smaller emergency, and... And then missed a few more, deciding I'd earned a chance to decompress.

When I finally opened the fic again to edit the next chapter, I realized that I just... couldn't seem to do it. It was like I was having an anxiety issue, and... then it spread to replying to comments on the story, or trying to write other Glee fics, or even read them. There have been readers leaving the sweetest comments, and I feel like the worst kind of person because I want to reply to them, but my chest gets tight and suddenly writing a sentence seems to take me an hour and I feel like I've run a marathon afterward. If you have left a comment on Soul Soul Revolution that I haven't replied to, just know that it means the world to me, and I cherish them deeply.

I keep telling myself I'm going to come back to this story. it's actually one of my goals for 2025, but... I need to work past this issue, and hope that the incredibly kind people who had been reading will have a little understanding for me with it.

Knockout - 9-1-1 (Explicit) - Eddie/Tommy

July

I posted my first 9-1-1 story with my best friend, and amazing co-writer @nubianamy in July. It was after a spate where I hadn't been able to write anything at all, and I wanted to try writing for a totally different fandom, and with something much simpler and lower stakes. This was the first story in the Five Alarm Fest. Although we both ship Buck/Eddie, I wanted to make it a personal mission to try and write something different for each story.

Knockout was out Eddie/Tommy Story, for the prompt: Coda or Missing Scene. There had been some discussions and interviews at the time about the idea that Tommy was supposed to be Eddie's boyfriend in the original story, and so we ran with the idea of a 'missing scene' where that could have become canon.

(Also, in terms of superlatives, second highest kudos, but definitely the highest amount of comments. It matches the amount of Bookmarks with Wholly Convinced, which we'll come to soon!)

Parched - 9-1-1: Lone Star (Explicit) - TK/Carlos

July

Another story with nubianamy for the Five Alarm Fest! This was for the prompt; After a Dry Spell. We took that literally, writing about TK longing for long showers in the middle of a drought, and using his wiles to 'trick' Carlos into shower sex so he could have it. Of course, Carlos wasn't so easily duped. XD

It was the shortest of the Five Alarm Fest fics, clocking in at less than 5K, but that was because it was a very narrowly focused fic. Established relationship, tight premise, the options were either that we'd be sucinct or we'd end up spawning a whole cinematic universe in our head. XD

Biggest Fan - 9-1-1 / 9-1-1: Lone Star (Explicit) - Buck/Mateo

July

The third of the Five Alarm Fest fics with nubianamy, and one that kind of... changed my brain chemistry. XD Buck/Mateo is a rare pairing. In fact, of the six fics that are tagged as such, we've written five of them, so... Rare, rare pairing. This was for the prompt; Intercrural (No Penetration,)

Biggest Fan is set pre-canon, and explores the idea of Buck and Mateo getting together while Mateo visits family in LA and Buck is still in his Buck 1.0 era. It actually spawned a sequel for our rare pair, with some additional poly fun! And in general, I know I just really like the vibes. Two characters who are sometimes seen as pretty immature, but have so much good and love in their hearts that it practically explodes out of them. It's just very good and sweet in my mind. And, they're both very handsome men, so... that's that. XD

Wholly Convinced - 9-1-1 (Explicit) Buck/Eddie/Tommy

July

The fourth of the seven Five Alarm Fest fics with nubianamy, highest number of kudos, and matches the amount of Bookmarks with Knockout! Wholly Convinced is our Buck/Eddie/Tommy fic, and was one I know I had a lot of fun writing. Tommy engineering Eddie and Buck experimenting with each other without, perhaps, knowing who is on the other side of a gloryhole. And then a little twist ending. It was fun doing the POV shift back and forth, and getting to imply Tommy's POV within the other two.

Bonfire - 9-1-1 / 9-1-1: Lone Star (Explicit) - Buck/TK/Carlos/???

July

Five of Seven Five Alarm Fest fics with nubianamy, and this was another fun one, where we played with time in the different scenes. The prompt was; At the Firehouse. We did established Buck/Carlos/TK, with a special someone joining them midway. I know I really liked playing with this idea of long distance relationships and love in different shapes and forms. Poly was definitely a theme I've started to drift into more and more, because I love writing everyone getting what they want. XD

Force of Nature - 9-1-1 / 9-1-1: Lone Star (Explicit) - Buck/Mateo, Buck/Mateo/TK/Carlos, Big Buck/Eddie Vibes

July

Six of Seven Five Alarm Fest fics, with nubianamy. This was the first and only sequel of the bunch. We allowed ourselves one. This follows on from Biggest Fan several years later, and covers the events of the crossover episode. And it had everything. Buck and Mateo relationship reveal gone wrong. Eddie Diaz being spectacularly jealous and not knowing why. Surprise sex scene that was longer than the entire plotted aspect of the fic! Kink! (Okay, a lot of the previous fics had kink, but this had kink negotiation, of a kind!)

The prompt was; Rare Pair or Solo Play, and I think Buck/Mateo/TK/Carlos (with pre-relationship Buck/Eddie) was pretty rare. XD

Monday is Blue - 9-1-1 / 9-1-1: Lone Star (Explicit) - Buck/Owen Strand, Owen Strand/Mateo Chavez

July

The final Five Alarm Fest fic with nubianamy. (Finally, I can stop typing five alarm fest... but I cannot stop writing about my co-writer, who I love fiercely and has been like my other arm this entire year, for which I cannot say how grateful I am.)

This was a Creator's Choice fic, and we originally tried something a fair bit darker and more intense, that had us pulling our hair out at one point over how to make it work. xD We really had a lot of conversations over what it could be, and then I think we eventually just made a list of the characters we hadn't used yet, and just started pitching ideas for each pairing we could think of. We wanted to do something 'Low Stakes.'

So of course, this is now the first story in a series that has posted 181. 884 words at time of writing, and had a bunch in the barrel ready to go next year. XD

Definitely the kinkiest story of the lot, but honestly, a lot of fun to write. This was the story that definitely got my enthusiasm back for writing multichapter, multistory series. Writing it with nubianamy is a dream, and I'm so glad we went with this rather than the original idea. XD

Bite My Style - 9-1-1 - Buck/Eddie/Tommy

July

On the upswing from not writing, and finding that writing for challenges was really helping me keep up my motivation, I signed up for the 911 Fanworks festival around the same time as the Five Alarm Fest. This was also my first time flying without a co-writer on a fic in a while, which was a little nervewracking.

I was assigned @911varietyposts for my giftee, and after having a look through their Tumblr, I saw a post (that I can't find now Has now been found thanks to Britt!!!) talking about Eddie and Step Up, which inspired this fic! This was a couple of months before Season 8, so I guess it's a nice bit of kismet that this fic and the series both explored the idea of Eddie choosing joy through dancing! Now, if I could only convince the show to put Eddie in teeny tiny little shorts, that'd be the whole game right there.

Tuesday is Grey - 9-1-1 / 9-1-1: Lone Star (Explicit) - Buck/Owen, Owen/Mateo, Buck/Mateo, Buck/Carlos, Buck/Carlos/Mateo, Buck/Mateo/Owen, background Mateo/Nancy

September

Tuesday is Grey is the sequel to Monday is Blue, and it really starts to kick things into high gear with the kink, and the poly, and the world. I had a lot of fun writing this, I'm pretty sure we ran straight into it from Monday, but we took it at a slower pace writing it because things got busy. Nubianamy was amazing, as always, and we really set up a bunch of things for the future of the series that are still paying off now!

Ghosts and Mirrors - 9-1-1 / 9-1-1: Lone Star - Ravi/Marvin Chavez, Ravi/Mateo Chavez

September

Another challenge, another set of fics! I entered the AU weekend challenge, and although I didn't get as much written as I wanted to, I still got a couple of really exciting fics out in my opinion!

The prompt for Ghost and Mirrors was Soulmate AU, and I really wanted to try and play with the format a little, especially the idea of soulmarks. What does it mean when you lose someone that you're sure is your soulmate, before you even know them? What happens when you grieve someone for years, only to run into their doppleganger randomly?

Auditions - 9-1-1 - Buck/Eddie

September

Another fic for the AU weekend, this was for Different Settings. I dipped my toe back into the Glee pool ever so lightly with this one, thinking it was amusing to turn one Ryan Murphy show into another one. I don't have a lot to say with this one, other than mentioning how fun it was to try and bend things into the right shape, and being miraculously surprised when other things fit so perfectly. Eddie Diaz - Sam Evans parallels, anyone? (Season 2 introduction, should definitely end up with my favorite character, etc).

Of course, I discovered one of my least favorite things about trying to write younger 9-1-1, which is 'what to do about Chris.' In this one, he's used for even more drama, but it made me very sad to do what I had to do.

Waiting on Greens and Blues - Glee (Explicit) - Finn/Sam, Kurt/Puck

January - October

Another Glee Fic that has only been continuously updated thanks to the tireless work of nubianamy. We wrote it together, but I was already having a hard time finding time to edit it, and then when the anxiety thing happens I kind of took my hands off entirely. But it is such a great fic, and I love it so much.

Wednesday Too - 9-1-1 / 9-1-1: Lone Star (Explicit) - Buck/Owen, Owen/Mateo, Buck/Mateo, Buck/Carlos, Buck/Carlos/Mateo, Buck/Mateo/Owen, background Mateo/Nancy

November - December

Sequel to Tuesday is Grey, and the story continues to move forward! It was really fun really locking Buck in a scene with one other person, and really exploring his relationship to kink from a different angle. And a surprise appearance from a character who... Well, has been guessed at a lot, and I can't wait to reveal! There was a lot of heavy world building that happened behind the scenes for this fic, which was just so fun to do. There's timelines, and calendars, and house layouts, and a whole document of pics of the actors looking hot that I would just throw at nubianamy so that they always had something fun to open the doc to. XD

Life Jacket - 9-1-1 / 9-1-1: Lone Star (Explicit) - Tommy/Buck/Owen/Mateo, Implied pre-Mateo/Eddie, Tommy/Buck/Eddie, Time-Off Polyshape as a ship.

November

Life Jacket is a future-future sequel to the 'Time Off' series. (Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday stories.) I think by the time we catch up with the timeline, there's gonna be some stuff in there that doesn't work so well, but it was really fun writing it. It was actually written as part of a challenge again, Polyship Week, but we only got this fic done in time. It was fun playing with different combinations, and ending on this sense of family and poly that I love. If you do read this one, there are heavy spoilers for things that are going to happen, so be forewarned. XD

[priincebutt]

Total fics written: 21 (All Red, White and Royal Blue) Total words written: 133,697 This is mind-blowing to me. I cannot even fathom writing this many words since AUGUST. Most kudos'd work: The Story of Us (Traylor AU. My baby.) Work you're most proud of: It's hard to choose just one, honestly. The Story of Us doing as well as it's doing is just absolutely chuffing me, and I feel like I'm writing quality work and sticking with it, which is a first for me. I'm so proud of how much I'm putting into that fic and I'm so excited to finish it in the New Year. I adore the cold came, the dark days because I think it's some of the most beautiful writing I've done. I've also gotten so much positive feedback about my portrayal of illness, and I just think that fic is one of the best I've put out. I'm overall the most proud of consistently putting in the work, though, and I'm so thankful to want to write again. Favorite title: You Got Me, and Baby I Got You because the prompt was "I got you" for Flufftober. Favorite Comment: This is such a cop-out but honestly I love all of the comments I get. I especially love when people quote myself @ me, that means a lot to me, that you remember those lines and want to know they meant something. Big shout out to @firenati0n for being the ultimate cheerleader, your comments ALWAYS brighten my day, to @forever-fixating for also being the ultimate cheerleader in the comments section, I appreciate you so so much, our relationship is invaluable, and to @duchessdepolignaca03 for your comments where you see the nuances that I wonder if people even catch on to! Honestly, anyone who has left me a comment is loved forever. <3 Work you enjoyed writing the most: Io Saturnalia! I had way too much fun with this AU, and I cannot wait to write more firstprince / Gladiator AU! What you hope to write in 2024: More of my Hockey AU, because I adore it so much! I'm hoping to wrap up the Story of Us in early 2023 and then potentially do another fic set in that verse, but we will see. I just hope I keep writing like this in the new year! My AO3

Going to leave this an open tag!! I'd love to see everyone's numbers, but I also just wanted to do this for myself so I can see what I'm capable of. Love you all, and so thankful for this lovely community!

[the-houseryn]

Review of my 2023 Writing

I don’t typically post about my fanfics, just reblogging posts made about them by fest mods and the spare reccer but I’ve decided I’d like to change that a bit. So my first attempt is going to be this summary of what I’ve done this year.

⊹

Stats

Word Count Posted: 144,496

Fic Count Posted: 7

Art Posted: 1 (First time)

Updated Series: 2

Fandoms/Ships: HP: 4 Dron, 2 Drarry, 1 Dron Friendship

Fests: @harrydracompreg, @unleashed-fest, @hp-soulmates, @hprarepairfest, and @pumpkinspiceficfest

⊹

Fics Posted

take me home, you're my, my, my, my... (Drarry, 157.4k, E)

Potter – I have found myself in a position in which I am desperate for assistance. I know I have no right to reach out to you for help, but I know of no other option. Could you be amenable to meet up with me someplace private, can be of your choosing, to discuss this matter? Please. Draco Malfoy A Malfoy mystery. His favorite kind.

I’ve been writing this one since Nov 2021 and I unfortunately was only able to update one chapter on it all year long. I yearn for my muse for this fic to return to me so I can finish this bad boy off.

in a party bathroom (Drarry, 16.4k, M, HD Mpreg fest)

He hadn't even wanted to go to the ridiculous party, let alone planned on shagging Potter in a port-a-john while he was there. But he did, and oh, what fun the consequences it brought were...

This one has found itself on a few rec lists this year and I’m very pleased about that. Thank you to everyone who has enjoyed it and promoted it💖

boy, you might have me believing i don't always have to be alone (Dron Friendship, 102.1k, M)

Eighth year was not nearly as painful as he expected it to be. Honestly, Ron would be on cloud nine if only Harry would let them help him. But Harry kept insisting he was fine; his denial was so strong he didn't even see how bloody weird it was that he didn't care that Malfoy was acting weird. It only made sense then to Ron that with Harry not up for the task, it was on Ron's shoulders to watch and take care of the prat.

Started this in Nov 2022 and this year I did Chapters 9-18. This baby lives in my head allll the bloody time, if only that could then translate onto the keyboard with as much ease, then I could have it done already. This one isn’t all that popular, but I’ve got a small gathering of devotees, and that makes it so freaking special 🥰

unless you're choosing me (Dron, 31.4k, M, Soulmate Fest)

A soulmate was a choice. It was two people deciding to spend the rest of their lives together, weathering any storm. That was a fact that Ron would hold as truth for the rest of his life. Even when the Unspeakables found a spell in some ancient text that tied soulmates together with a red cord and showed them a moment of their "true love". It was a hoax, he was sure of it. But no one else agreed, willing to upend their lives just because a stupid spell said so. Ron wouldn't have minded so much if it hadn't wrecked his.

OMG, this fic. I was just freaking perusing the Soulmate Fest prompt list out of curiosity only, NO intention of participating since the due date was like in under two weeks. But then I saw this one prompt (Thank you Dr.P’s hubby) and I was struck dumb with an idea, then wrote the first 11.4k in 24hrs, breaking my record by an extra 2.5k. Honestly so fucking baffled by myself when 3k on a normal day is a stretch.

misty morning comes again (Dron, 4.4k, M, Unleashed Fest)

Every morning without snow on the ground or rain that turned the land into a slip and slide of mud and wet grass, Ron ran the property with his misfit herd of barnyard animals close behind him. The thrilling tease of watching Ron's solid, sweat-glistening body do its lap around the misty morning pond was just about the only thing that could get Draco willingly out of bed so soon after the summer sun rose. Barn chores and animal butts certainly weren't going to do it.

Hands Down My Favorite thing I’ve written this year. I give it a quick reread all the time. I normally don’t care too much about my stats. But I love this fic so bloody much that it bothers me a weeee bit that it’s my lowest hit fic. Only really cuz I get so much joy from it that I just wanna share that joy with others but it seems to have passed under people’s radar.

all of this silence and patience (Dron, 9.9k, M, Pumpkin Spice Fest)

Thanks to the lack of a natural baby boom after the war, The Post-War Reunification and Family Reformation Act of 2003 passed, damning Draco to a long, miserable life with Ronald Bloody Weasley. With nothing left to lose, they might as well try Luna's suggestion, even if the idea of snuggling Weasley sounded like a unique method of torture. Pumpkin Spice Fest Prompt: Morning Fog, Snuggles, and Marriage Law

This was the first fest I’ve ever done with a max word count and I honestly thought 10k was plenty for my idea with this prompt… I ended up having to cut three sections and hunt down every possible contraction I could create to make it three words shy of the max 😶

your seat, it's the best seat (Dron, 17.4k, E, Rare Pair Fest)

In the moment, it hadn’t occurred to him that taunting Draco into sitting on his lap once would open the door for Draco to keep doing so, even when other chairs existed. Nor had he known that the consequence of becoming Draco's furniture was how hard he'd fall in love with someone who didn't fancy him back.

I almost pitched this fic so many times. It was a fucking brawl to finish it. Thank you, Amia, for reading it over tho and hyping it up. I’m way more proud of it than I was then and I appreciate you convincing me to persevere 💖

⊹

Art Posted

[ART] how the hell... (Drarry, G, Unleashed Fest)

Prompt: Harry has no idea how a white highland cow got inside 12 Grimmauld Place, nor why it seems to have a strange affinity for the fancy French chocolates one of his admirers keeps sending him...

Never have I thought I’d participate in a fest with my art, but here we are. I’m honestly quite proud of it…. As long as I don’t think about my struggles with perspective… but hey, my little dumb details like the scrub brushes in the sink and the post-it notes are my favorite things I’ve done. Also??? I’ve never drawn an animal before so I’m proud of that too tbh

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Overall Notes For The Year ✨

I cannot believe how many fests I participated in this year and how many I was so sad to not be able to do like Kinktober and Deflower December. But I’m so so thankful that I participated in the ones I did because it led me to fest servers where I really got a chance to alpha and beta for other writers. Not only did I get to talk to awesome people and make a friend, but these wonderful writers undid so much damage from some bad shit that happened to me in high school English classes. I have been denying myself becoming a professional editor despite my love of it for a decade but between my therapist’s support and these writers insisting I had talents as an editor, even requesting my little write-up about beefing up your writing in 2nd edits, I’m now ready to face those fears. It’s gonna be tough but I’m also so excited in a way I’ve never felt about life outside of writing fanfiction.

(Also, what the fuck is up with me having my word counts end in .4? I managed that in 5 out of 7 fics as well as my overall for the year??? Odd AF)

⊹

2024 Goals

Right now, I have plans for participating in Knot, Dronarry, HD Mpreg, and Love of a Weasley fest with dreams of participating in SEVERAL others. I also HOPE with every fiber of my being that I finish ‘take me home...’ and part one of ‘boy, you might have me...’ in 2024. Got my fingers to fucking crossed for that 🤞🤞🤞

✨May we all have a year full of the planets called Free Time, Great Ideas, and Energy (and Skill for those like me who have skill loss when overwhelmed with life) being aligned so we can create all those wonderful fics floating in the universe, begging to be shared.✨

[signs-of-the-moon]

[stokesy55]

Didn't quite get through everything I wanted to before the end of the year, but here is my AO3 2024 Wrapped!

Works: 12 Completed works: 7 WIPs: 5 Words: 449,575 Ships: 27 Series: 3 Comments: 241 Kudos: 133 Hits: 4,333

To many more works in 2025!

[fandom]

It’s Tumblr’s 2024 Year in Review!

Hello, Tumblr. Welcome to your Year in Review. Grab a slice of hear-me-out cake and some tea or other beverage of choice, and settle in for another year’s worth of sweet, sweet data—brought to you by the folks behind your weekly Fandometrics lists.

How does it work, you ask? Well, each year, we collect and categorize data from every post you made, each search, all the tags you used, and each and every like and reblog—to see what you yelled about the most. Lists are grouped by topic using 365 days of data between October 21, 2023, and October 20, 2024. Rankings are based on volume of appearance—not sentiment, importantly—so you might see list entries you Do Not Like that Tumblr as a whole has been vocal about Not Liking this year. We don’t tend to include on-platform events, so while you all booped and BOOped each other to distraction, that won’t show up here. Those joys are simply unquantifiable.

But what can you expect to find? It’s been quite a year. Alongside supporting each other through and discussing world turbulences, you rallied around the things that bring you joy. You polled the heck out of pretty much everything and anything you could think of and created more fanart and fan fic than we could wave a moderately shaped wizard hat at. It's also been another huge year for fictional characters—arguably the best characters out there—so this Year in Review, you’ll find new and returned rankings of fictional characters from movies, video games, TV shows, and anime & manga. And finally, we've made the lists longer, which means you'll have more chance of seeing some of your more niche fandoms reflected in them this year.

That's all for now! And so, without further ado and absolutely no gilding of lilies, thank you for another Big Year on Tumblr, Tumblr. Please enjoy your Year in Review.

Top 24 of 2024 Ships TV Shows TV Shows Fictional Characters Movies Movies Fictional Characters Celebs Books Anime & Manga Anime & Manga Fictional Characters Video Games Video Games Fictional Characters Web Series Web Celebs Musical Acts The 'Blrs

[stjohnstarling]

Alright, so: I want to explain a little more about this connection between the Twilight fandom, Fifty Shades of Grey, and seemingly, the self-publishing industry as a whole. It's a lot, so I'm going to have to chip away at it a bit at a time, and I think the best place to start is by describing the scene in late 2000s Twilight fandom.

In 2009, Twilight was one of the biggest fandoms in the world, although it was nearly invisible to outsiders because it

Was about a straight couple, while most other fandoms were predominantly gay, and

Was conducted almost entirely on fanfiction.net among a group of people who had little other background in fandom. (x)

That meant for many Twilight fans, Twilight was fandom. It was all they knew, and many had no path out. That also made it a corked champagne bottle with the pressure building.

Because of these community dynamics and the declining quality of the Twilight books themselves, Twilight fanfiction evolved to be mostly AUs so alternate they were more-or-less original romance novels that used Bella and Edward as broad character templates. (x)

Seriously, Twilight fandom got really crazy big for a few years there. It was not totally uncommon to get multi-million clicks on a semi-popular story. It's weird looking back on it and calling it "Twilight fandom" because it was really more like "Romance Novel fandom". For real, for a period there, calling a Twilight fanfic author a 'Twilight fan' would be the ultimate insult. But they never stopped writing about Edward and Bella! It's so weird. (x)

If you were in 2000s era fandom, you're probably aware of the phenomenon of Big Name Fans and the various social-climbing dynamics that happened around them. The Twilight fandom took this social power game another level:

This wasn't even just an author thing. There were Big Name Authors (BNAs) but there were also Big Name Readers. These were basically like... full-time rabid fans of a BNA. They devoted so much of their time to helping out the BNAs, reviewing their chapters, making them fanart, promoting their fics, kissing their asses with cringe-worthy intensity, you name it. Which is why you saw what looked like BNAs having 'employees', such as Moi, tby789's Director of Marketing. (x)

It became apparent that these power games weren't just for fandom clout. The fandom was proving that that social power could be translated into real-world dollars. You see, the Twilight fandom used to organize charity auctions where big name authors would auction off custom fanfiction, and the money generated was substantial:

Mostly authors would auction off stories. So if you donated in my name, I'd write you 10,000 words of porn in my Tattward universe, or something new, etc. That's how it worked. The 2009 auction raised $80,000. The 2010 auction raised $140,000. The 2011 auction raised $20,00. [NOTE: this is likely a typo] (x)

A lot of these dynamics were not unique to the Twilight fandom, but it was the combination that created a perfect storm of opportunism. This would end up changing not just fandom dynamics but the publishing industry as a whole.

[enjakey]

This New Version of Me

Pairing: [retired idol!Jake x family friend!reader]!neighbours

Hey guys. Apparently I love writing 24k word fics. It wasn't intentional I swear. Please do read it, I think this is a very nice story (wow what a way to advertise my shit, right?)

Anyways, I think I should mention that maybe this is a anger-triggering story for some fans? It's suggested that after 2027, their contract ends and they disband because they didn't want to continue as idols. And it's suggested that it's because of terrible fans and a harsh industry. So if you have an issue with that, don't read this. This is purely fictional so I hope people can read this by putting their emotions aside. Also I've accepted that I can't write smut for shit. There's just a lot of suggestive shit on her. And maybe mentions of Jake being a bit of a pervert.

Please enjoy guys- like, reblog and comment! I'd love to know your guys' thoughts. I love when people give detailed reviews.

Summary: after most idols retire, they usually have something to fall back upon, some sort of job or hobby waiting for them to return to the layman life. Jake, however, was struggling to find his way. At twenty-seven, he knew it would be a terrible idea to go back to studying, despite his love for physics. So, he dabbled back into the world of music, exploring his talents in song writing and exploiting his contacts for help. While back at his unfamiliar home from his childhood, his family of four living under one roof again, he’s reintroduced to Y/N, the girl next door, who he spent some of his childhood with.

i. where the applause fades

With his head hung low, Jake exited the Brisbane Airport. The entire space was empty, except for himself and the crowd of netizens grouped in front of him, waving and screaming for his attention. Men of the army and police officers held the crowd back with plastic shields and battens. Camera lights flashed in hundreds, his eyes glassing at the flares. He just stood there, defeated and alone in his wallow, beads of sweat rolling down the side of his neck. This was his first time being in front of tabloids and journalists without make-up and a fully styled outfit. He felt bare, naked as the world was going to see him as nothing but himself- no fame attached to his name, no contract with a big music company, no sight of what was to come next.

From a distance, he spotted his brother, Sam, craning his neck over the crowd with a look of pure worry and disappointment- in him or in the public? He couldn’t tell. He hated that it was the first thing he saw in his brother after years. As his chest weighed heavy, Jake bowed down to the tabloids and his fans, arms swinging by his side like weightless bags. Just then, he felt a hand grabbing his bicep- his brother, dragging him away from the ruckus and gripping his lone suitcase as they pushed through insistent bodies. The security guards tried to help the pair of brothers, bodies shielding them from harm but ultimately failing as cameras and microphones pushed through the empty spaces between their arms.

“How does it feel to be back?”

“Jake, one word, please!”

“How are the rest of the members?”

“Is this your brother?”

“Is it true?” Somehow, that was the one question that had Jake looking over his shoulder. “Is it true that you disbanded because you hate your fans?”

He turned away again, letting his brother shove him into his car. Sam threw the flimsy, silver suitcase into the back seat of the car and hurried to turn on the engine. People were slamming the glass of the windows, desperate for his reaction. Jake brought his shoulders together and tried hiding his face under his leather jacket, glasses knocking off his nose in the process. As Sam slammed on the accelerator, Jake bent to reach for his glasses. Neither of them looked back as the running crowd disappeared the further they drove from the airport. For a few moments, they sat in silence, gaze focused on the road in front of them as if it would diffuse the hovering awkwardness.

“Just one suitcase?” That was probably the first thing Sam said to him in person in years.

“Dad said he’d have the rest of my stuff shipped,” Jake grumbled, sulking into his seat and staring out the window.

As he crossed his arms and chewed on his lips, he found his eyes starting to water. He told himself that it was his body getting used to Australia’s sun after not being back for so long. But then he found himself biting back a whimper, chest on the verge of bursting as he held back his hiccups. Then he tried biting his cheek, teeth pressing into the soft muscle, but even that didn’t seem to help. The tremor in his breath betrayed him, a burn in his throat.

He exhaled shakily, finding his vision blurry. The golden afternoon turned into hazy streaks. He willed himself to stop, to push it all down, to pretend that the weight in his chest was nothing more than exhaustion from the long flight. But when he blinked, a single tear slipped past his lashes, trailing warmth down his cheek.

The events of the past month rushed back to him. First, it started with the newspaper headlines, cold and merciless, dissecting his and his band member’s every move, every misstep, every strained interaction between him and the people he once called family. The flood of hate, seeping through screens and whispering in crowded spaces, turning admiration into venom. The uncertainty, the sleepless nights spent staring at the ceiling, wondering if walking away was the right choice or just the only choice left. Then started the fights between his band members and the management, screams and disrespect thrown like daggers in dimly lit rooms, voices hoarse from anger and exhaustion.

At the end came the disbandment. The final press release; the public apologies and the rehearsed words that felt more like a eulogy than a farewell, the goodbyes. He couldn’t tell who was sincere and who was distant- over time, the seven had become great actors, a skill they needed to survive in front of tabloids.

No matter how hard he tried to forget, the past seven years wouldn’t leave him. They were stitched into his skin, echoing in every quiet moment, reminding him that once, he had everything. And now he had nothing but the weight of what used to be.

Sam heard him take a sharp inhale and frantically moved his eyes between the road and his brother. Jake, who had started sobbing into his arm, his nose digging into his jacket and breath halting every few seconds. Tears were streaming down his face, his hair matted onto his skin with a mixture of sweat and stress. He didn’t hear his cry in years- apart from the public breakdown he had over the death of their grandmother.

Swiftly, Sam pulled over to the curb and parked the car. He reached his hand to grip Jake’s forearm, trying to pry his face away from his jacket but he only curled into himself further, bringing his legs up to hug his knees into his chest. It was an ugly sight, for the first thing for him to see after years was his brother’s shattering reality and breaking heart.

“Jake,” he coaxed in a soft whisper. “Jake… Jaeyun, c’mon,” he tried and tugged in the hood of his jacket. Jake didn’t budge.

So, Sam got out of the car and strode over to the other side and opened the door. With an undeniable force, a force that said you have to do what I say because I’m your brother, Sam pulled him out of the car and made him stand in front of him. Jake wasn’t even able to stand- his knees gave out and he slumped into the car, body racking with sobs.

Sam pulled his brother in for a hug, his arms and chest engulfing him in a safe embrace. At first, Jake resisted, his fists pressing weakly against Sam’s chest, a futile attempt to keep himself together. His body was tense, rigid with everything he refused to let spill over. But then, something in him cracked. The fight drained from his limbs, his fingers unclenching as his hands clutched at Sam’s shirt instead, as if anchoring himself to something real, something steady. He let his forehead drop against his brother’s shoulder, eyes squeezing shut, breath shuddering as he exhaled everything he had been holding in.

He couldn’t handle it anymore. He wasn’t even sure what it was he was supposed to handle—what he was meant to endure, what unseen force had decided he was meant to be punished. Was it for leaving? For staying too long? For not fighting harder, or for fighting at all? It felt like no matter what he did, he had lost. Lost his band. Lost his purpose. Lost himself somewhere in the mess of it all. And now, standing in his brother’s embrace, he realized just how exhausted he was of pretending to be fine. His throat tightened, his shoulders shaking slightly. Sam only held him tighter, his warmth steady and unyielding, as if to say you don’t have to hold this alone.

“I don’t know what to do anymore,” Jake cried. He fisted his brother’s shirt, a desperate attempt to find some grounding in a world he suddenly found so unfamiliar. “What do you mean, it's all gone? What do you mean, I’ll never see them again? Live with them again? Laugh with them again? What do you mean, I won’t ever perform again? Sing again? What do you mean? What does that mean? No way everything we built, everything we suffered through together, just disappears like it was nothing? That the people who knew me better than anyone, the ones who were my family, are suddenly just… gone? That I wake up tomorrow and there’s no rehearsals, no stupid inside jokes, no late-night recordings that turn into early-morning breakdowns? That I don’t belong anywhere anymore?”

Sam rubbed his hand up and down Jake’s back in slow, steady motions, murmuring quiet reassurances, even if he wasn’t sure what to say. His grip was firm but gentle, grounding Jake as his body trembled with the weight of everything he had been holding in. “I know, I know,” Sam whispered, his voice soft, steady, a quiet anchor against the storm raging inside his brother. “Just breathe. I’ve got you.”

“What do you mean, I have to walk away? Just be okay with it?” Jake continued. “I don’t know what to do without them- I don’t know who I am without them, anymore. I want the last eight years back- take me back, Hyung. Take me back.”

Jake crumbled.

They must have spent close to an hour standing there, in the middle of the road, getting weird looks from pedestrians and other cars driving past. But Sam didn’t care. At that moment, he just wanted his brother to be happy. "You good?" Sam asked, voice low, careful not to break the fragile silence between them. He felt Jake exhale heavily against his shoulder before finally pulling back, his eyes red-rimmed and glassy, his face a mess of tear tracks and exhaustion.

Jake shook his head, voice hoarse, barely above a whisper, "I think I’m done crying for now."

Sam huffed a small, fond chuckle, squeezing Jake’s shoulder before nodding toward the car. "Come on, let’s get out of here before someone recognizes you and we end up on the news."

Jake let out a weak laugh- his first in what felt like forever- as he wiped at his face with his sleeve, taking a slow, shaky breath before finally following Sam to the car. The drive home was quiet, the kind of silence that wasn’t heavy or uncomfortable, just… there. Jake leaned his head against the window, watching the city blur past, his mind still too full, too tangled, but just a little lighter than before. And for now, that was enough.

“I feel like everyone hates me,” he mumbled.

“We don’t hate you,” Sam assured. “If anyone hates you, it’s gonna be Y/N. And that’s only because she hates everyone, so it doesn’t count.”

As soon as Jake stepped through the front door, the familiar scent of home- his mother’s cooking, faint traces of old wood and fabric softener- washed over him. It should have been comforting. But before he could even take it in, a voice from the living room caught his attention.

"In today’s entertainment news, the sudden disbandment of Enhypen-”

The sound cut off in an instant, replaced by the awkward shuffle of movement, the telltale click of a remote being fumbled with, and the kind of silence that felt too forced. Jake’s eyes flickered to the living room, where his parents and Y/N’s family sat stiffly, their faces caught in varying degrees of panic and guilt. And then there was Y/N, sitting closest to the TV, her back still half-turned toward the screen, the remote clutched so tightly in her hands that her knuckles had gone white. He could tell she was trying to play it cool, like nothing had happened, but his thoughts paced back and forth. The disbandment- like it was just another headline, another fleeting story for people to consume and move on from.

Jake stood at the entrance of the living room, the exhaustion in his face making him look older than he was. His body was still slightly tense from hearing the news, but before he could even process the awkward silence that followed, his mother was on him.

"Oh, my baby," Diane, his mother, whispered, her voice thick with emotion as she rushed to wrap her arms around him. "You're finally home." Jake barely had time to react before he was pulled into the warmth of her embrace. His mom smelled the same—lavender and something sweet, like vanilla. The familiarity of it made his chest ache. She squeezed him so tightly it almost hurt, but he didn’t pull away. If anything, he leaned into it, exhaling deeply against her shoulder.

"Mom," he muttered, his voice hoarse, but she only held him tighter, like she was afraid he'd disappear again.

"I missed you so much," she murmured, running a hand through his hair like she used to when he was younger.

"Diane, let the boy breathe," Rob, his father, chuckled, though there was no mistaking the sadness in his voice. He was next, pulling Jake into a firm hug, his palm pressing against the back of his head like he was grounding him. "Good to have you home, son."

Jake swallowed hard, nodding against his father’s shoulder before pulling away. He interacted with his father the least- a few texts and calls here and there. It was his mother he talked to the most. She would send him long texts and voice notes giving him updates about what’s been happening in everyone’s lives. Jake would respond to her religiously, grateful for how well she took care of him even while miles apart.

“Look at you,” his mom murmured, pulling back to cup his face, searching for his features like she was trying to recognize the boy she had sent off years ago. “Have you been eating enough? You look so tired, sweetheart.”

He let out a breath of something close to a laugh, though it barely had the strength to form. “I’m fine, Mom.”

His eyes flickered across the room, finally landing on Y/N’s parents. They looked kind, familiar- just as he had remembered them to be. "Mr. Y/L/N, Mrs. Y/L/N," he greeted, offering a small smile, trying his best to be polite. It suddenly took a lot of energy to not let his smile falter. "It’s been a while."

"Too long," Mark said, clapping him on the shoulder with a kind smile. "We’re proud of you, kid. No matter what."

Evelyn nodded in agreement, her expression gentle. "We were worried about you."

"I’m okay," Jake lied, his fingers twitching slightly at his sides. He wasn’t sure they believed him, but they nodded anyway, not pushing further.

Then, his gaze landed on Y/N. She was standing near the couch, arms crossed, posture unreadable. The room was dimly lit, but even in the low light, her expression was sharp, her eyes piercing. She hadn’t said a word since he walked in, but she didn’t need to. It was just like her to offer presence instead of words. Her silence was unwavering, a quiet force that had always unsettled him a little when they were younger. Now, after nine years of absence, it was somehow even heavier.

Still, something about seeing her here, standing in his living room, made his chest tighten. Nostalgia, maybe. Or something else entirely.

“Welcome back, Jake,” she said, voice low and so easy to miss if he hadn’t been paying attention.

She cracked him a smile and he could tell the action was unfamiliar to her. It wasn’t that she was deliberate about her demeanour- his presence was simply foreign and understandably so. At the time of his departure, she’s been his neighbour for eight years and known him for seven; interacted with him for five years and had actually been friends with him for two years. They hadn’t spoken since he left, and even before that, their friendship had faded into the background of time. She had been part of his life in varying degrees—first as a neighbor, then an acquaintance, then something like a friend before life inevitably got in the way.

In the long text messages his mother would send him, Y/N was mentioned a considerable amount of times. She told him about the story of how her first boyfriend got her in trouble with her parents and it had become a huge thing- so much so that even she and Rob had to get involved. She told him about how she loved high school and graduated top of her class, how she excelled in her university and graduated with a scholarship. She told him that she was a film and literature geek- he wasn’t sure what her preferences were, but he understood that she was learned, based on what his mother said about her quoting philosophers and artists. Finally, she told him about how Sam helped her get a job in the company that he worked in, the company their father founded. Jake even remembered joking about how this was next level nepotism.

Sam stepped into the room, closing the door behind him. He stretched out his arms with a sigh. “Man, that was a long drive.” His voice cut through the tension like a knife, effortlessly lightening the air. He glanced at Y/N, then at Jake, then smirked slightly, though there was no real mischief behind it. “I was telling him on the way here that he’s got a whole welcome party waiting.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “We’re not a party.”

“Close enough,” Sam shot back.

Jake watched the pair interact, an unexpected banter between them. He figured, in his absence, the two would become close in some manner. With Sam a staggering nine years older than her, he had somewhat become a mentor to her. There was a quiet understanding between them, one built on shared experiences and, perhaps, the same unshakable support Sam had always offered Jake.

Jake wasn’t sure why that realization unsettled him. Maybe it was because he had been gone long enough for dynamics to shift, for people to form new bonds that didn’t include him. Maybe it was because, once upon a time, Y/N had been a familiar presence in his life, and now she felt like just another part of the home he no longer recognized.

Sam turned to Jake, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “You should eat. Mom’s been cooking all day like she’s trying to feed a whole village.”

Jake exhaled slowly, exhaustion catching up to him. “That sounds nice.”

His mother beamed, tugging him toward the dining room. “Then let’s get you something, sweetheart.”

Sam lingered behind, watching as everyone disappeared into the kitchen, their parents fussing over Jake like he was a child returning from war. The room slowly returned to normal conversation, but the weight of the evening still pressed down on them all.

That night, Sam found himself having a hard time sleeping. He had helped Jake into his old bedroom- his old bedroom that had been untouched with the same bedsheets he had when he was fifteen and the soccer ball that he hung on the wall against dark blue paint. He thought he’d have a hard time being back but with the exhaustion that his body had succumbed to, he crashed onto his bed and started snoring before he could even cover himself with the duvet.

Sighing, Sam went downstairs to the kitchen to find himself a cold glass of milk. It was a habit that he never grew out of- only being able to fall asleep after a glass of milk. Jake had the habit, too. He wondered if that changed.

To his surprise, and perhaps dismay, he saw his mother sitting on the dining table with her head held in her hands. She looked scared, confused and maybe even a little sad. Sam circled over to her, pulling out a chair and sitting down beside her. She didn’t lift her head, just sighed deeply, fingers threading through her hair. The kitchen light cast soft shadows across her face, making the exhaustion in her features even more pronounced.

“You should get some sleep,” Sam said quietly, his voice rough from the late hour.

She let out a soft, humorless laugh, “I could say the same to you.”

Sam huffed, glancing down at the marble countertop, “I can’t sleep.”

His mother finally looked up, her eyes glassy, “me neither.”

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The house was quiet, save for the faint hum of the refrigerator and the occasional creak of the floorboards upstairs.

Then she spoke again, voice hesitating, "is he going to be okay?” Sam leaned back in his chair, running a hand over his face. “I don’t know,” he paused, then shook his head. “He will be. But not if we leave him to his own thoughts.” She nodded, swallowing hard. “He’s never been good at being alone.” “Exactly,” Sam said. “That’s why we need to keep him busy. Not with work—he’s had enough of that. But just… keep him around people. Keep him moving.” His mother exhaled, rubbing her arms as if warding off a chill, “what do you have in mind?” “Anything,” Sam said. “Dinners, game nights, small outings. Even just sitting with him in silence. He won’t say it, but he needs to feel like he’s not alone. The second he starts feeling like everything’s slipping away, like there’s nothing left for him here, that’s when we lose him.” His mother flinched, her fingers curling into the fabric of her sweater. “Yeah, you’re right.” “I’m sure everyone will help,” Sam assured her. “We’re here, Y/N and everyone is here… I’m sure we’ll figure something out.”

She nodded, knowing that there was no point wallowing over her questions now. She stood up and tucked her chair back in, patting Sam on his shoulder. “Get some sleep, honey. You have work in the morning.”

ii. the art of distraction

Jake's days settled into a fixed timetable.

Every morning, before the sun would rise, Jake and Sam would drive to their neighbourhood gym. Sam was always chatty, breaking the early-morning silence with comments about Jake’s form or rambling about something completely unrelated- work, old high school stories, or how their mom had tried a new recipe and nearly set off the smoke alarm. Jake mostly listened, throwing in a smirk or a sarcastic reply here and there, but for the most part, he let Sam fill the silence. He would just focus on the burn of his muscles- something real, something tangible. It was the one part of his day that didn't require thinking.

Then, Sam would drop him home, always commenting on how he should drive the other car himself before leaving for work with Y/N. He would shower and would come downstairs to find his mother making breakfast. She would be flipping through an old, worn recipe book, even though he knew she wasn’t following it. She never did.

He would grab a knife and roll up his sleeves to help her. Cooking had always been something they did together. When he was younger, he’d stand on a stool beside her, asking endless questions about how flavors worked, why this spice was better than that, why she never measured anything properly. Even when he moved away, he had carried that love for cooking with him. But now, back in this kitchen, surrounded by the warmth of home, it felt different- like a small piece of his old self was still intact.

After breakfast, he would mostly just sit around the living room and keep his mother company. He would catch up on all the films he’d missed or watch one of the many crappy reality tv shows. Sometimes, he’d mess around on the new guitar his father bought him and see if he could get any pleasure out of it- he’d just end up learning how to play one of their old songs and cry to it. His mother had walked into him sobbing on his guitar a handful of times by now, Layla, his dog, whimpering with him at the foot of his leg.

Other times, he’d go on strolls in his neighborhood. The streets felt both familiar and unfamiliar, like a place he should know but didn’t quite belong to anymore. The same jacaranda trees lined the sidewalks, their petals scattering across the pavement just like they had when he was a teenager. The houses stood as they always had, their porches filled with potted plants and old bicycles, but the details had shifted- new fences, different cars in the driveways, fresh coats of paint that made everything feel slightly off.

The corner store where he and Sam used to stop for sodas was gone, replaced by a boutique café with sleek wooden interiors and baristas who didn’t recognize him. He’d sit inside sometimes, nursing a coffee he barely drank, watching people come and go. The world here had moved forward without him, and he wasn’t sure if he was supposed to catch up or let it pass by.

Some days, he took his skateboard instead, coasting down the streets, feeling the rough pavement under his wheels. It was easier than walking. At least when he was skating, he had something to focus on. Something to keep him moving.

He passed by the Y/L/N's house often, its warm, homey feel still intact. The front door was a deep green now- had it always been? There were wind chimes on the porch, a new set of potted flowers lining the steps. It was the same house, but time had settled into its bones. Just like it had with everything else.

The inside of their house looked different than he had remembered- they must have renovated it. Their garden, which connected to the garden in his house (which it didn’t used to when Jake first left), had towering plants and flowers while his only had grass and a fence. Their walls were lined with pictures- mostly family and group pictures but also many stills of Y/N either smiling at the camera or posing with style. Their house also looked more like an office while his looked more homely- the architecture looked like it belonged in a magazine and the colors they picked definitely weren’t conventional with splashes of orange, white and black. He was told that Y/N’s room, which was on the third floor, looked completely different from the rest of the house but he never got the chance to verify. For lunch, he’d find himself at their house anyway. Everyone, including his parents and brother, would gather around their huge dining table- one he didn’t even remember them having- while Evelyn passed around freshly cooked meals. Lunch was a lively affair, filled with stories and laughter, the air thick with all the moments he had missed over the years. They told him about how Sam nearly ruined Y/N’s graduation ceremony by showing up drunk, swearing he was just “a little tipsy” before tripping over a row of chairs and nearly face-planting in front of the dean. They told him about the time Rob and Mark nearly burned down the Y/L/N's kitchen attempting to cook a “simple” breakfast- Y/N had walked in to find flames licking the stove and two fully grown men panicking with a fire extinguisher. “It wasn’t that bad,” Rob argued, shaking his head. “We handled it.” “We evacuated the house that day,” Y/N deadpanned. Then there was Y/N’s first day at the office, where the employees had tried to surprise her with a welcome cake—only for the whole thing to go spectacularly wrong when her desk collapsed under its own weight. They told him about the neighborhood barbeques, how they became a regular thing- big, boisterous gatherings where half the street would show up, filling the backyard with laughter and the smell of grilled meat. And then there was the Taiwan trip last year, when Y/N somehow got separated from the group in a crowded food street and was eventually found ten minutes later, teary-eyed and clutching a bag of dumplings on the sidewalk. Mark, being a journalist, had even more stories to tell_ wild, absurd, sometimes downright unbelievable tales from his travels, filling Jake’s mind with images of distant cities, bizarre interviews, and once, a near-disastrous encounter with a monkey in Thailand. Jake listened, soaking it all in, the warmth of it settling somewhere deep in his chest. It was strange, hearing about these moments second hand- knowing that life here had kept moving, even when he wasn’t around. One evening, Jake found himself in their backyard with Mark who told him that he’d teach him how to grill on the barbeque. That night, they were set to have a barbeque so an arrangement of raw meats and vegetables were laid out beside them with burgers and hotdog buns. The sun was dipping below the horizon, casting an amber glow over the wooden deck and the neatly trimmed lawn. The air smelled of fresh-cut grass, charcoal, and the promise of a good meal. “Alright, Jake,” Mark’s charcoal-covered hands send specs of dust flying in the air as he clasped them together. “First rule of grilling- don’t burn the food.”

Jake grinned at him. “We used to grill a lot, actually,” he admitted. A sense of nostalgia and longing washed over him as he thought back to the time Niki tried his first smore or the first time everyone realised how good a chef Jay was. He remembered how Sunoo would just sit there and wait for his food to be plated and how Sunghoon would tease him for it or how Heeseung was a messy eater.

“Oh, yeah?” Mark looked at him, surprised, and it occurred to Jake that he was probably the last person to watch all the episodes of Enhypen’s variety show. En-O’clock truly had Jake experiencing all the things he would have never experienced before- if it weren’t for the other six, he would have probably been buried six feet under.

“Yeah, I helped out when I could,” Jake nodded with pride. “But honestly, I’d let Jay do the work if he was there,” he realised that throwing out names was probably a bad idea. Expecting Mark to even know the names of these people was too much to even fathom.

But to his surprise, Mark hummed and continued to fan the burning charcoal. “Jay… I think your mom has mentioned him,” she pondered in thought. “She’s mentioned all of them to us- she tells me she keeps in touch with their families, too. I think that’s quite heart warming.”

“Oh, yeah,” Jake cleared his throat and adjusted his posture, tilting his head in surprise. “I think, when we first debuted, she met Jay and Heeseung’s family.”

As Mark started placing skewers of meat on the grill, they heard grass rustling behind them, followed by a string of barks. Layla came bounding into the yard with her tongue flapping in the wind. She ran into Jake and he kneeled to hug her, ruffling her fur and kissing her head. “Hello, Layla. Did you miss me?” He chuckled.

Behind her, Y/N stepped in, looking mildly amused at the scene before her. She had her work bag slung over one shoulder, her hair slightly tousled from the wind, eyes flicking between Mark and Jake at the grill.

"Hey Dad, hey Jake," she sighed in exhaustion, setting her bag down on the patio table. She waddled into her fathers embrace and he kissed her temple. Jake smiled at their interaction. “I forgot we were having a barbeque tonight- makes sense why Diane gave me that top today.”

“A top?” Mark raised a brow in question.

“Yeah, she told me she’d seen a top online that she thought would look really good on me,” she pulled it out of the plastic bag she was holding to reveal a blue and white striped shirt, cropped at the hem and sleeves pre-folded. “She said she’d ordered it a while back and it just came.”

“That’s sweet of her- Diane has good taste,” Mark nodded. “You should go in and show mom. You look exhausted. Maybe take a nap and freshen up before you come back down, sweetheart?”

“In a minute,” she nodded and crouched down to meet Jake’s eye level, her attention going towards Layla. “How are you, Jake?” Her gaze refused to meet him as she scratched Layla’s chin and let her lick her hand.

Over the past few weeks, he realised that he and Y/N never actually conversed alone. It was always during lunch with the entire family around and she would throw a quip or acknowledgement at him. Or it was alone with Mark or Evelyn or Sam or with his parents. It was almost like Y/N had set it up that way, that he would only get to know the crumbs of her life through interactions she had with her family or his family, but never with him. Everything he knew about her was secondhand.

“I’m good,” he pursed his lips.

Before he could ask a follow-up question, she was already leading the conversation. “Rob was telling me that you started thinking about work and stuff.”

“Oh,” his voice trailed. “Yeah.”

“I don’t know if I’m allowed to talk-”

“No, that’s alright,” Jake stood up and she followed, letting Layla circle around their legs and Mark go back to grilling. “Yeah, I’m not sure if I want to work at his company, though-”

“That’s exactly what I told him,” Y/N crossed her arms. “There’s no point in forcing it.”

“Yeah.”

“Do you have anything else in mind?”

“I was thinking, maybe,” he cleared his throat again, feeling his mouth drying up and turning sour. He licked his lips, running a hand through his hair. The conversation was bringing him more stress and anxiety that he liked. But he knew it was high time he started thinking about his future- he couldn’t keep living under two roofs without contributing in some way or the other. “Maybe song writing- I thought I’d reach out to people. I’ve got connection-”

“Song writing?”

Jake was startled by the way her expression contorted. Her brows raised and she tilted her head. He couldn’t tell if it was disappointment or confusion. “Yeah, I wrote a couple songs in the band and people seemed to like it, so-”

“I think that’s a great idea,” she said followed by a nod from Mark. “If you’re confident, then we’ll support you. Right, dad?”

“Yup,” Mark smiled at him.

“Alright,” Y/N clasped her hands together, looking between Layla, Jake and her dad. “So, I’m gonna go take a nap now. Call me when everyone’s here.”

By the end of the barbeque night, Jake was exhausted- mentally exhausted. He hadn’t expected that simply walking around with a beer in hand, making small talk, and reintroducing himself to old neighbors would be so exhausting. His parents led him from group to group like some long-lost son returning home, their pride evident in the way they beamed at him.

It wasn’t long before the recognition started. Some people hesitated before approaching, unsure if they should bring it up, while others were bolder—asking for pictures, throwing casual remarks about his band, even suggesting he play something for them. Each time, he forced a polite smile, shook his head, and laughed it off, but Sam, watching from a distance, could see the telltale signs. The tight grip around his beer can. The stiff nods. The way his jaw clenched just a little harder every time someone mentioned music. He wasn’t just tired. He was simmering, barely keeping it together. He didn’t realise he had to keep up the duty of being a celebrity even after retiring. It was moments like these where he wished Enhypen didn’t do that great- that maybe becoming global idols wasn’t as glamorising as people made it to be- he should know, they resigned because of it.

Most of the night, he was thinking about how much he didn’t know about his family. Or was it families? He didn’t know what to consider Mark, Evelyn and Y/N anymore. His mom was buying Y/N clothes and his father was discussing the future of his career in concern with them. Sam was spending his free time in their house, watching their television- they all had lunch in their house like it was a ritual. Y/N would visit his house first after work before going back to her home- she kissed his mom on the cheek before her own, and looked for Sam in a large crowd before her dad. She spent her mornings in his hall waiting for Sam and Rob to get ready so they could go to work and usually ate his mom’s breakfast. How much was he underestimating how close they were? How much was he distancing himself? He couldn’t tell.

That night, before sleeping, he found himself wandering into the kitchen for a soda. The house was quiet now- he wasn’t used to his house being quiet. It was usually filled with laughter or the buzz of the television, conversations on politics or another stupid topic Y/N was hyperfixating on, the barks of Layla who was now sleeping in her bed in his room.

Funnily enough, he found Sam standing by the fridge with a glass of milk in his hand, the soft glow of his phone screen illuminating his features while he scrolled through an article intently. When he opened the fridge, Sam jolted with surprise at the company. He hadn’t heard him wandering in.

Jake smirked, the light of the fridge casting a glow on his smile. “Still got that weird milk habit, huh?”

“And you still get hungry in the night?” Sam chuckled.

Jake shrugged. “People always tell me it’s unhealthy,” he started, pulling out a can of soda and popping its lid open. “But look at me, I’m shredded,” confidently, he took a sip from the can, a childlike mischief playing on his face.

Sam smiled, watching his brother slowly return to something resembling his old self. It was subtle, almost imperceptible at first- small changes that anyone else might’ve missed. But Sam noticed.

It was in the way Jake had started cracking jokes again, slipping in dry remarks like he used to. The way he joined conversations without needing to be coaxed, adding his own thoughts instead of just nodding along. He still had his quiet moments, still seemed lost in his head sometimes, but there was a shift- like the weight on his shoulders wasn’t as crushing as before.

Tonight, especially, felt different. There was something familiar in the way Jake leaned against the fridge, soda can in hand, relaxed despite the exhaustion clinging to him. Sam knew it would take time- maybe a long time- but at least now, he had hope.

“How was your day?” Sam asked.

“Good, for the most part. Hated that barbeque but I should start getting used to it, I suppose,” he shrugged. “Y/N was asking me about what I wanna do for my career today.”

“What?” Sam laughed. “Y/N?”

“Yeah, she was talking about what dad had said the other day, that I should work with you in the company. But I don’t want that,” he took another sip of his soda. “I told her that maybe I’ll dabble in song writing, composition, shit like that-”

“I think that’s a great idea,” Sam nodded and finished the last of his milk. He moved to wash it, making sure Jake caught the support in his voice.

“That’s exactly what Y/N and Mark said,” Jake mumbled. “I didn’t know you guys talked about me to her- or anyone. I didn’t realise everyone’s that concerned”

Sam didn’t know what to say for a moment. Was he meant to scold him for not realising that obviously his family would be concerned for him? Was he meant to apologize? Was he meant to feel guilty for discussing him? Was he meant to defend himself and everyone that cared about him?

“We worry,” Sam agreed. “And we don’t want to pressure you.”

“Right,” Jake nodded. “But why Y/N? She’s so young, she’s barely getting started-”

“Isn’t she the same age as Jungwon?” Sam pondered. “Wasn’t he your leader?”

It wasn’t until Sam said it that Jake realised the resemblance. Jungwon was strong-willed and while being young, he was still the most responsible and considerate of them all. Jungwon led an entire group while still figuring himself out, just as Y/N navigated a demanding career while proving her worth in a room full of people older than her. They weren’t the loudest or the most assertive, but their quiet confidence commanded respect. They adapted, learned fast, and took responsibility even when they didn’t have to- because that’s just who they were. It was like they were cut from the same cloth.

“Y/N has just always been like this,” Sam continued. “It’s been easy for most of us to talk to her about things in general- work, family, life. She’s the most unbiased. So her judgement usually isn’t cloudy.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” Sam nodded. “In the company, after me, everyone expects her to take over.”

“You’re joking,” Jake quipped.

“She’s got the sharpest instincts in the room. You’d think she’s too young, but she carries herself like she’s been doing this for decades,” Sam said with pride.

“I can’t lie,” Jake finished his soda and threw it in the trash. “I see it.” It was in her mannerisms, the way she deadpanned and quipped at everyone, looked out for him when she didn’t have to, worried about him along with his parents. Jake saw it, he saw how strong-headed she was.

“And also, to be honest. Maybe there’s some bias involved,” Sam admitted. “She’s like the daughter mom and dad never had.”

“Oh,” Jake said.

“And think about it. You and I are like the sons Mark and Evelyn never had. So, yeah, I guess we’re like one big family. We’re all gonna look out for each other.”

You and I. Me. Jake was part of the equation- he always was.

iii. safety nets- distractions

Sam had always been the kind of older brother every kid wished for. Seven years older, he was more than just a sibling- he was Jake’s first best friend, his coach, his protector. It wasn’t like their parents were absent or lacking in any way, but with the age gap between them, Sam had naturally taken on the role of looking out for Jake. He made sure Jake never felt lonely, never felt like the little brother who was too young to tag along.

When Jake was a kid, Sam would spend entire afternoons with him in the backyard, coaching him through soccer drills like he was training a professional player instead of a scrawny seven-year-old who could barely kick straight. Sam never got frustrated, never told him to give up- he’d just laugh, ruffle Jake’s hair, and say, “Try again, little man.” And Jake would, every single time, because if Sam believed he could do it, then he had to at least try.

Even when Sam got older, when he had his own friends, his own responsibilities, he never stopped making time for Jake. It wasn’t forced—it never felt like an obligation. Sam just showed up. If Jake had homework he was struggling with, Sam would sit next to him at the kitchen table, breaking down math problems like it was the easiest thing in the world. If Jake needed a partner for a science project, Sam would make a mess of their living room building whatever ridiculous contraption Jake had dreamed up. And if Jake was having a rough day, Sam just knew. He wouldn’t ask too many questions; he’d just hand him a controller and say, “One round of FIFA, loser. Don’t cry when I win.”

School trips were something else entirely. When Jake was in middle school and parents were required to chaperone, it was Sam who showed up instead. He was already in college by then, but he never acted like it was a hassle. He’d lean against the classroom doorway, arms crossed, a knowing smirk on his face, and suddenly every girl in Jake’s class was whispering and giggling behind their hands. “Oh my god, is that your brother?” they’d ask, eyes wide, and Jake, half-annoyed but mostly proud, would groan and mutter, “Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

Sam never made a big deal out of it, but he always made sure Jake had fun. Whether it was guiding their group through a museum or sitting with Jake at lunch so he wouldn’t have to awkwardly find a spot, Sam had this way of making things easy. And for Jake, who had spent his whole childhood looking up to his older brother, that meant everything.

Even now, after all these years, after everything Jake had gone through, Sam was still showing up. Still watching out for him, just like he always had. So when Jake realised Sam had the entire family looking out for him and keeping his empty space occupied, he wasn’t surprised, just grateful. They had woven a silent but careful web of distractions around him, filling every gap in his day with something, anything, so he never had to sit alone with his thoughts for too long. It was subtle, never suffocating, but now that Jake thought about it, he realized just how much effort had gone into keeping him occupied.

His mom made sure he spent time in the kitchen, roping him into preparing meals like he used to, subtly reminding him of the simple joys of cooking. His dad and Mark invited him to his workshop, handing him tools and asking for help with fixing things that probably didn’t even need fixing. Evelyn would constantly ask him to set the table or carry their groceries in, making sure it was mundane enough to not raise his suspicions, to make him feel useless. Sam dragged him to the gym with him in the mornings, making it seem like an impromptu decision every time but never once letting Jake refuse. When dragging him to malls or the theatre, he’d bring Y/N along with them, pitching new movies they could watch or propose to go to the arcade.

“You’re pushing forty,” Y/N would say every time.

“I’m not even thirty-five, yet,” Sam would respond every time.

Y/N was rather the silent one. Jake knew, from whatever Sam had told him, that she cared about him. She could pretend like she forgot him, didn’t like him, was obligated to him, but he still knew she cared. She wasn’t the type to do things or ask questions to people she didn’t care about. Everyday, without a doubt, she would ask him how his day was and if he did anything worthwhile. She would run past his room every morning to greet him, brought him a cup of coffee- his favourite, mocha latte- after work and by the end of the day, she would tell him, without fail, to sleep well. It was become a routine, predictable. And Jake didn’t know if he was allowed to find comfort in that.

She even started approaching him more often. He could be with Sam or he could be alone but she would approach him and tell him about her day- how Sam annoyed her a little more than usual or how her favourite barista in the coffee shop she visited regularly had been fired. She would tell him about how Diane and Evelyn often conference called her while she was at work, hoping to catch up with her but their timings were so bad that they’d always call her while she was in a meeting and she’d always get in trouble. She told him about how when she first started work, she used to spend longer working hours stretching into the night and how Rob used to scold her for it.

“I keep thinking I need to prove myself when I fail to realise that I already have.”

Somewhere, somehow, she became the easiest distraction. Most of the time, she didn’t even have to speak. Y/N never even liked speaking to fill the silence. She never tiptoed around him or treated him like he was fragile. If she wanted an answer, she would ask him. If she wanted to go on a walk, she invited him. If she had to run an errand, she’d drag him and Sam along. Sometimes, she didn’t even say anything- she’d just hand him a cup of coffee, sit down next to him, and that was that. No questions, no expectations. Just quiet company.

Y/N’s life wasn’t a construct of secondhand interactions anymore to him- she was starting to become clearer and clearer in his head.

That afternoon, Y/N’s words about wanting to prove herself rang in his head, repeating like a broken tape recorder while he sat on his bed, guitar in his hand. A pile of crumpled sheet music was strewn across the room, a notebook with crossed out lyrics sitting in front of him. Frustrated, he started playing his guitar, trying to find a new melody. She continued in soft, uncertain strums that didn’t quite fit together , like puzzle pieces forced into the wrong places. He played them over and over again, fingers ghosting over the strings, brow furrowed in frustration. The words were harder. Every line he wrote felt hollow, every phrase too forced, too distant from what he actually wanted to say.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair before flipping through the notebook again. The scratched-out lyrics stared back at him, taunting. Maybe he was trying too hard. Maybe it wasn’t supposed to be this complicated. How did he do this so effortlessly during Enhypen?

“Sounds great.”

Startled, Jake flung his head around to find Y/N leaning against his doorframe, arms crossed and a grin gracing her lips. She looked like she’d just woken up, hair in messy curls and her frame still dressed in pyjamas. They had a holiday at work, so he figured she must have slept in. Sam didn’t even wake him up for gym that morning- he went alone.

“No,” Jake shook his head. “It’s horrible,” he buried his face in his palms out of defeat. “I’m so done,” he grumbled.

“Can I help?” She sauntered into his room and he was suddenly aware of how messy it was. Jake was usually the clean type. He liked making his bed every morning. Folding his laundry and vacuuming his floors were something he loved doing during Enhypen, especially because he was roommates with Niki for a better half of their run together. But now that he was home, he had a habit of slacking and pushing everything to the last minute. It probably wasn’t a good idea.

“I don’t know,” he admitted, glancing at the pile of discarded sheet music on the floor. “I don’t even know what I’m trying to say anymore.”

Y/N didn’t respond immediately. Instead, she wandered around his room, stepping over balled-up pages and pausing by his desk. She picked up a crumpled sheet, smoothing it out before reading the half-formed lyrics. Jake watched her carefully, waiting for her to laugh or make some sarcastic remark. But she didn’t. She just hummed under her breath, tilting her head slightly like she was piecing something together.

“This isn’t bad,” she finally said, tapping her fingers against the paper.

Jake scoffed. “That’s generous.”

She ignored him, walking over to his bed and plopping down without a care. “What’s it about?”

He hesitated, his fingers tightening around the neck of his guitar. “I don’t know yet. I thought I did when I started writing, but now…” He exhaled sharply. “Now, it’s just a bunch of words that don’t make sense together.”

Y/N tilted her head. “Then maybe that’s the problem.”

He frowned. “What do you mean?”

She shrugged. “You’re trying to write something without knowing what you want to say. It’s like…” She paused, thinking. “It’s like setting out on a journey without a destination. No wonder you’re going in circles.”

Jake stared at her. He stared at the way she sulked into his headboard, her matting down on her neck. He stared at the way she didn’t think the way they were sitting was odd, with his hand only a breath away from hers, their knees on the verge of touching if either of them moved. Y/N stared back at him, unbeknownst to what was going on in his head. Sam had told him that when they were younger, after Jake had gone off to become a trainee, Y/N had fallen asleep in his room a plethora of times. She would say his room had better ventilation, that his mattress was softer and hers was old and musty. Back then, Sam and the parents thought she just didn’t like being away from Sam because she’d grown attached to him by then. Seeing her now, leaning against his bed like it was her most natural reaction, made him wonder how often she slept over.

Y/N might not tiptoe around him anymore, but he still did.

“You’re right,” Jake swallowed, gulping down his thoughts. “I’m tired.”

Y/N got up from his bed, making her way out. He wasn’t sure what else he expected her to say, just grateful that she said anything in the first place. Was he allowed to expect more from her? The girl he abandoned all those years ago to chase his idol dreams? Was he even allowed to expect things from her? He realised he never really asked, never really apologised.

“Have you eaten yet? Your dad’s calling you down for breakfast.”

Later in the day, while the sun stood at its highest point, Jake found himself crossing their garden to enter the Y/L/N’s house. He was wearing one of his better outfits- a pair black layered baggy jeans, a white t-shirt and a leather jacket to match. With a cap on his head, he sauntered into their house with his hands shoved into his pockets. Upon entering, he saw Evelyn sitting on the couch with her laptop, typing away at whatever work she had to complete. Mark and Y/N were nowhere to be found.

“Hey, aunty,” he chirped.

“Oh, Jake!” Evelyn exclaimed, surprised to find him standing in front of her. “I didn’t even notice you,” she smiled, removing her glasses.

“Sorry,” he scratched the back of her neck. “Um, where is everyone?”

“Oh Mark and your dad went out for a drink, if i’m not wrong,” Jake hummed. “Y/N is upstairs, I think. You can go check. You’re going for a movie right now, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, Sam’s waiting for her,” Jake pointed a thumb behind his shoulder as though Sam would suddenly appear. He was still sitting on the couch, surfing through television broadcasts with a lazy hand. “He sent me to get her.”

“She must be in her room, honey. Third floor.”

Shyly, he walked up the stairs, feeling Evelyn’s gaze on him until he disappeared up the corner. Jake wasn’t sure why he felt awkward about wandering their house alone. He’d done this multiple times already over the past few weeks and when he was a child- but, granted, their house hadn’t been renovated by then. It was, however, his first time seeing Y/N’s room. Sam had told him stories about her room- yes, stories; not descriptions- like it was mythical. He said her room looked like it came out of Pinterest, perfectly decorated with just the right amount of furniture and trinkets on her walls. He told him about the huge mirror that stood on one of the walls facing the balcony and how it was impossible to take a bad picture in it. He himself had only been inside a handful of times and one of those times included accidentally falling asleep on her bed. He told him that it felt like sleeping on a bag of clouds and swan feather- Jake told him to stop exaggerating. When Y/N found out he slept on her bed, she didn’t speak to him for a whole day. She hated people being in her room.

When he reached the third floor, Jake hesitated. He looked down the hallway and he just knew the door to the right was her room. He didn’t need to check or ask. It exhumed a calling towards him- Jake almost laughed to himself.

Taking a breath, he knocked on her door once. Then twice, and then a third time. He didn’t hear an answer. He frowned and shifted on his feet, wondering what to do next. It couldn’t hurt to just walk in, right?

Cautiously, he turned the knob and cracked the door open, expecting to find her asleep or listening to music on noise cancelling headphones. But he didn’t. Her room was empty but warm, lived-in, but meticulously put together. The sunlight streaming in through the glass wall illuminated the soft, neutral tones of the space- creamy whites, muted beiges, and the occasional deep green from potted plants scattered near in the balcony.

A large, unmade reading chair sat in the corner by a low bookshelf overflowing with books, some stacked haphazardly, others lined neatly. A small lamp with a warm golden glow rested atop it, its light currently off, but Jake could picture her curled up there at night, reading with a cup of tea in hand.

The walls weren’t cluttered but were far from empty. Polaroids were pinned above her desk, some curling at the edges, capturing frozen moments of laughter, travels, and blurry candids of people he recognized- Sam, Mark, Evelyn, his parents. There were a few framed prints scattered among them- ocean waves, constellations, and delicate ink sketches of marine creatures and pictures of her friends, wide smiles pointing at the camera.

The infamous mirror Sam had mentioned stood tall against the opposite wall, its frame sleek, pink and simple, catching the golden sunlight at just the right angle. The bed beside it was neatly made, adorned with soft linen sheets and an assortment of pillows in varying sizes and textures and stuffed toys, one of a shark and another of a dragon. A folded throw blanket was draped over the edge, looking inviting but untouched.

Her desk, however, was the only thing that looked truly used. Papers were stacked unevenly, a notebook left open to a page filled with scribbled notes, and a coffee mug- half full- rested dangerously close to the edge. A pair of reading glasses sat beside it, as if she had just been there moments ago.

Jake took a step inside, his gaze drifting toward the open balcony door, where sheer white curtains swayed lightly in the breeze. It smelled like her- vanilla, salt air, and something distinctly familiar yet hard to place.

Unashamed, Jake took a picture of himself through her mirror to find that Sam was right- it wasn’t possible to take a bad picture in it. It captured the lighting perfectly. Then, he let his fingers dust through the books on her shelf- some that looked brand new and others that looked mangled and lived in, a lone spiderman comic amongst them. Curiously, he opened a book titled “An Apprenticeship or The Book of Pleasures,” flipping through it to find sticky notes, annotations and doodles. It was a thin book but it seemed to be her favourite.

As Jake’s eyes roamed the room, they landed on a partially open door tucked beside the bookshelf. It was subtle, almost blending into the wall, but its presence felt deliberate. Curious, he took a few steps closer, pushing it open further to reveal a spacious dressing room. The sound of a running shower filled the air and he realised she must have been taking a shower.

The soft scent of her perfume lingered in the air, mixing with the faint traces of fabric softener. Shelves lined the walls, holding neatly folded sweaters, carefully arranged shoes, and a row of coats hanging in perfect order. A sleek dresser stood against the far side, a small jewelry stand resting on top, glinting under the warm overhead light.

It felt personal, almost too personal, and for a brief moment, he considered stepping back. But something about the space- about Y/N herself- made it impossible to ignore the quiet attention to detail, the way everything seemed placed with intention.

When he turned around, he spotted how the bathroom door was left cracked open. He didn’t mean to notice it- he almost felt guilty when he realised what his eyes landed on. But somehow, as sheer curiosity took over to him, he found himself stepping closer to the bathroom door. Through the crack, he could see the green tiles and white paint in her bathroom and a rectangular mirror that hung above the basin. In the mirror, he saw Y/N’s reflection, face calm and unmoving as she lathered soap onto her naked arms. In that moment, Jake should have ran- abort and pretend like he never saw anything.

But he couldn’t move.

His feet planted onto the ground and his eyes continued to roam, his hand clutched the center of his shirt as though he wanted to reach for his heart. He could see the perk of her nipples, the valley of her breasts and her curve of her waist- her waist that he was sure he could wrap his hands around in perfect harmony. Then, his eyes moved to her mouth- her mouth that was singing something, her lips wrapping around the lyrics of a song he couldn’t hear while she rinsed off soap with a handshower.

Jake should have left by now- he could hear his heart telling him to leave, screaming to him that this wasn’t right, that he’d seen too much already. But then his dick twitched and he didn’t know what to do anymore. He simply stood there, watching her shower and sing, her hair wet and reaching the curve of her ass, hands touching herself as the water glided down her body.

But perhaps it was when he saw her reaching the handshower between her legs that his conscience snapped back. He turned away, launching himself back into her room as quietly as he could. He left her room and ran back down the stairs, his heart pounding in his ears as though he had done something criminal- it might as well have.

He saw Y/N naked.

Y/N. Naked.

He knew about five people that would beat him to pulp if they found out he was peeping like some sort of creep. He felt creepy- he felt icky… but somehow, he didn’t feel guilty. Scared, petrified, confused at how his body was reacting, icky, disgusted even. But not guilty. So much so that he knew that night, he would end up fisting himself at the thought of her and her naked on top of him, doing all the filthy things one could imagine.

“Is Y/N not there?” Evelyn asked when he stumbled down the stairs, a dazed look on his face. She was still on the couch, doing work, her glasses sitting on the bridge of her nose.

“Um, she’s showering,” he stumbled on his words, biting his lips, then his cheek. He looked everywhere but at Evelyn, Y/N’s mother, unable to get the thoughts of her slapping him if she found out what he just saw.

“Are you going to be late for the film?”

“Oh, no, we have plenty of time,” he assured, swinging his arms around aimlessly and tapping his foot.

“Then just wait for her honey, I’m sure she won't take long.”

And he did wait for her, sitting beside Evalyn on the couch with his hands clasped on his lap, innocently scrolling through his phone while all the ocean’s waves crashed in his chest. He received a message from Sam, asking what was taking so long, but Jake didn’t reply. He was too stunned to reply, to sit there and tell him that she was showering and that he’d seen her in her shower, naked and sexy with water dripping all over her.

“Is she still not down?” Evelyn’s disappointed sigh brought Jake back to reality. He could hear her tutting, reaching for her phone, presumably to call Y/N. “It says her phone is busy. Do you mind going up and checking again, Jake?”

Hesitantly, tentatively, Jake made his way to her room again. He stood in front of her door and stared, her brown, wooden door that taunted him and ridiculed him and shamed him- he willed himself to try and forget, to move on and pretend like it never happened.

He knocked. And he heard her voice.

“Mom? I’m on the phone, could you give me a minute?” He heard her yell.

Jake gulped. “It’s Jake.”

“Oh, sorry, come in!”

So Jake opened her door for the second time, this time finding her sitting on the edge of her bed in her pajamas, her damp hair falling down her back in subtle waves. She held her phone to her ear, mumbling something to her friend before hanging up. Jake stood at the entrance, his hands awkwardly hanging on his side. He just stood there and stared and Y/N must have caught on to his off behaviour and titled her head.

“Everything ok?”

Jake opened his mouth before his brain formed words to speak. When he realised, he closed his mouth again, raising a finger instinctively to figure out what to say. Suddenly, his tongue felt too big to fit in his mouth.

“Movie?”

“Oh, right, I forgot!” Y/N jumped out of her bed and made her way back to her dressing room. “I’m so sorry, give me a minute to change and I’ll be right down.”

Relief- and disappointment but Jake wouldn’t let himself admit it- was the only thing he felt when the movie ended and he, Sam and Y/N were working their way down the mall and into the parking lot. He could hear Y/N rambling about the philosophies and cinematography that the movie held and normally, Jake would have things to say about it too. But he stayed silent, looking around the mall and focusing on the kids running around with chocolate in their hands and the couples that wandered around the shops and boutiques.

The whole drive back, all he could think about was Y/N- the way he could feel the heat radiating between them when she absentmindedly sat beside him in the theatre, how their hands would brush against each others while reaching for the popcorn or how they’re feet kicked together whenever they laughed at a scene in the film.

It was nothing, really. Just small, meaningless touches. Accidental. Unintentional. But then why did it linger? Why was he still thinking about it, even now, watching the headlights of passing cars blur into streaks?

He glanced at her in the passenger seat, illuminated by the faint glow of the dashboard. She was scrolling through her phone, completely unaware of the hurricane in his head.

He exhaled slowly, turning his gaze back to the window.

This was stupid.

But for the first time, he wondered what it would be like if it wasn’t.

iv. i can be your batman, you be robin

Unexpectedly, one evening, just as he was about to fall asleep, he received a phone call. On his screen flashed the names of people he once felt the most familiar around, ones that once made up his entire world- Jay. Heeseung. Sunoo. Niki. Sunghoon. Jungwon.

His heart clenched. It had been a while. Too long. His thumb rushed to accept the call and suddenly, the once-familiar faces filled his screen. The room was instantly flooded with overlapping voices, laughter, and exclamations.

“Jake Hyung!” He heard Jungwon screaming, his bunny-lime smile filling his screen. “Did we wake you?”

“Watch him fall back asleep, he’s always the first to sleep,” Sunoo laughed with a hand on his mouth.

“No, no. This is… this is good,” Jake chuckled and rubbed his eyes. “Hey… I’ve missed you guys.”

Jungwon grinned. “We figured we should all check in. It’s been a while, huh?”

“Too long,” Heeseung nodded. “It’s weird not seeing you guys every day.”

“We used to be in each other’s faces twenty-four seven,” Niki chimed in. “Now my mom complains that I sleep too much.”

“Same,” Sunghoon said. “My sister actually told me I’m annoying.”

They talked over each other, voices colliding in a chaotic but comforting mess. Someone was complaining about their younger sibling, someone else was recalling an old inside joke, and before long, they were all laughing- loud, raw, unfiltered laughter. The kind that tightened his chest but made it feel lighter at the same time.

They reminisced about late-night practices, the exhaustion that only they could understand, the little traditions they had before going on stage. They talked about their families, about adjusting to life outside the limelight. Everyone had found their way home, but that didn’t mean they didn’t miss what they had.

“Remember that one time we got locked out of the dorm?” Niki suddenly said, his eyes bright with mischief.

“Oh god,” Jay groaned. “Not this story again.”

“No, no, let him tell it,” Jungwon grinned.

Niki leaned forward dramatically. “So, picture this: we just finished practice at like, 2 AM, right? We get to the dorm, and guess what? No keys. No phone. No manager to save us. And it’s freezing.”

“I remember Sunoo was about to cry,” Sunghoon smirked.

“I was not!” Sunoo shot back, scandalized. “I was just- mildly concerned for my well-being.”

“Sure,” Heeseung drawled. “Anyway, we had to sleep in the practice room that night, right? I think I used Sunghoon as a pillow.”

“Worst sleep of my life,” Sunghoon deadpanned.

“Best sleep of mine,” Heeseung grinned.

Jake listened, letting their voices wash over him. He laughed along, but there was an ache in his chest, subtle but persistent. They were all home now, living different lives, adjusting to the quiet after years of chaos. But no matter how good things were, no matter how much they pretended, there was still a part of them that missed it. Missed each other.

“We really went through it, huh?” Jungwon mused after a moment, his tone softer now.

“Yeah,” Jake murmured, shifting against his pillows. His voice held something else, something unsaid.

Silence stretched for a second, not awkward, just… heavy. They all felt it.

Jay was the first to break it. “So, Jake. What have you been up to?”

Jake ruffled his bangs and mulled over the question for a minute. What was he doing? Passing his days with the aim of starting another day the same way? Letting his family members take care of him like he was still a broken child? Writing unworthy music in hopes of making a career? He was too embarrassed to even say, especially when everyone else seemed to have so much going on.

Sunghoon had started training children in ice skating and with his background, companies were flocking for him to be their employee and even raised his salary by threefold. Jay was working in his dad’s travel company like he was always meant to. Jungwon took up karate again and was hoping to partake in championships. Niki started working in a dance company with his sisters. Sunoo was looking to tie up with cosmetics brands and hopefully create a line of vitamins and skin-care. Heeseung found a job as a music teacher in a local high school and he said working with passionate students was more fulfilling than he had expected.

“Just with family, at the moment,” he admitted. “Seeing if I can write any music to send to labels.”

“That’s great, man!” Heeseung chirped. “I knew you’d get into something like this.”

“Yeah, he bet on it,” Niki laughed.

Jake chuckled. “Yeah, I hope it goes well.”

“How’s the family?” Sunghoon chirped.

“They’re all well. They’re great,” Jake nodded. “My family and my neighbours' family are really taking care of me.”

“Neighbour? Oh, Y/N’s family?”

To be honest, Jake barely mentioned Y/N to them. He was surprised when they even remembered. There were times in the night when he’d remember her existence and stalk her instagram to find recent posts of hers. He watched her grow up to be the woman she was through her instagram posts and through the group pictures and selfies his mother would send him. He showed them what she looked like once through a selfie his mom and her had taken. She was probably only seventeen at the time and he remembered everyone calling her cute and moving on.

“Yeah, her,” Jake said. “I’ve been getting close to her and my brother again, so that’s good. We spend a lot of time together.”

“That’s good, Hyung,” Sunoo said. “I’ve been getting in touch with my old friends, too.”

“It’s good to have family around at this time. I’m glad, Jake,” Jay said.

The call stretched on for longer than expected. No one seemed in a hurry to hang up, even as yawns slipped in between conversations and the glow of their screens cast soft shadows on their tired faces. They were scattered across different places now- different homes, different lives- but for a little while, it felt like nothing had changed. Like they were still the same boys who had once fallen asleep side by side in the practice room, the same boys who had spent years navigating the chaos of their dreams together.

The laughter came in waves, filling the quiet spaces between their words. Some stories were old, retold so many times they no longer needed the details- just a name or a phrase was enough to make them all break into knowing smiles. Others were newer, updates on their lives, glimpses into what came after. They made their families and pets greet everyone, parents asking children how they were doing only to be answered with feigned assurances. The rhythm of their voices, the way they spoke over each other without thinking, the ease in which they slipped back into old habits- it was comforting. But beneath it, there was something else, something unspoken.

It wasn’t the same. It would never be the same. But for now, it was enough.

Eventually, the energy began to dip, the laughter turning into softer chuckles, voices growing slower, heavier. Someone yawned, then another. One by one, they began saying their goodbyes, reluctant but inevitable.

“Let’s do this again soon,” Jungwon said, his voice laced with sincerity.

“Yeah,” Jake murmured. “Soon.”

The screen flickered as each face disappeared, until only his own reflection stared back at him in the dim light. Then, finally, the screen went dark.

Jake lay there for a moment, his phone resting loosely in his hand as he stared up at the ceiling. The room felt quieter than before, the weight of the silence settling over him like a blanket. His chest was heavy, filled with something indescribable- a strange ache, a quiet longing. All he wanted to do was hug them one last time- but at the same time, there was a lightness to it. A warmth.

Y/N barged into his room after work. She had tied her hair into a ponytail but it wasn’t so proper with loose strands of hair sticking out and her hair frizzy due to the heat. She had a LEGO set in her hand that she bought before coming to his house upon hearing that he hadn’t left his room since the morning. She hadn't seen him during lunch either, so she knew something must have been going on in his head.

“What’s that?” Jake asked. He was sitting on his bed, guitar in his hands as he went through the old songs he had sang. Layla slept in his bed, curled into a fluffy ball with her tongue poking out of her mouth.

“The Titanic LEGO set,” Y/N said, proudly smiling at him with her teeth peeking from behind her mouth.

“That’s insane- isn’t it nine thousand pieces? How much did you spend on this?”

“What? Oh, shut up,” Y/N grimaced at him. “Just start it with me, it’ll be fun.”

“Did my mom put you up to this?”

She grimaced at him again. “No. Do you think I babysit people on command?”

“Alright, Alright, sorry.”

Jake glanced at her, a small smile forming. He knew she wasn’t forcing him into this- if he had said no, she would’ve left without another word. But she had come here, straight from work, with this giant LEGO set and an easygoing smile, and for some reason, he didn’t want to say no.

They worked in comfortable silence for a while, sitting on the floor, occasionally breaking into small conversations about the day or laughing at silly mistakes they'd made. The pieces clicked together rhythmically, the scattered instruction sheets spreading around them like a map.

Half an hour later, the door creaked open again.

Sam leaned against the doorframe, eyeing them both. “Okay, I was wondering why it was so quiet. What’s going on here?”

Y/N looked up, tucking her knees under her chin. “We’re building the Titanic.”

Sam snorted. “Of course you are.” He walked in, plopping down beside them with no hesitation. “Let me guess, Jake didn’t actually want to, but now he’s taking it way too seriously?”

“I-” Jake started, then realized he had no real argument. He was taking it seriously now.

Y/N smirked. “Pretty much.”

Sam laughed, grabbing a piece from the pile. “Alright, scoot over. If we’re doing this, I’m not sitting on the sidelines.”

And just like that, the night stretched on, filled with soft laughter, scattered LEGO pieces, and the quiet comfort of being around the right people.

“You know, we had a group call last night?” Jake said while cleaning up for the night. Sam had gone downstairs to help set the table and Y/N agreed to have dinner at their place. The three were barely able to make it quarter way with the LEGO set and agreed to work on it in the coming days.

“Oh?” Y/N said, rubbing dust off her hands.

“Yeah, it was nice,” Jake nodded.

“Just nice?”

“I mean, no. Obviously, it was great,” Jake laughed. “It’s just… it feels like a terrible break up.”

“I get what you mean, Jake,” Y/N nodded and moved closer to him to test the waters. She placed a comforting hand on his shoulder as he collapsed into the bed.

He buried his hands in his hair. “We laughed, joked, even argued over stupid things. But the whole time, I knew the call was gonna end, and everyone would go back to their own lives. And I don’t know why, but that kind of sucked.”

Y/N didn’t say anything right away, just watched him as lay still on his bed. Over the past months, she’s been watching how his mood fluctuated. Some days, she and Sam were sure he was getting his spark back but then, something happens to bring his mood down- he’s reminded of something. He’s mentioned in the news, he reads an article about Enhypen. Y/N realised it was all about being patient with him.

“Do you think you made a mistake? Disbanding?”

Jake shook his head. “No. But it still stings.”

She nodded, letting the silence settle for a beat before she nudged a LEGO piece towards him. “Well, at least you guys haven’t disappeared from each other’s lives completely.”

Jake glanced at her, then at the LEGO in her hand. “Yeah. Guess that counts for something.”

“It’s okay to miss, Jake. I’m sure they miss you too.”

That night, before falling asleep, Jake cried into his pillow for the second time. It wasn’t the kind of crying that came with loud sobs or shaking shoulders—just a quiet, tired release. His face pressed into the fabric, muffling the uneven breaths as the weight of everything settled in. The group call had been good- really good- but it had also peeled back something he hadn’t been ready to look at so closely.

He missed it. He missed them.

And that night, through his tears, he wrote a song. He wrote a song that spilled out all his guts- about Enhypen, about his loneliness, about Y/N, about himself.

v. almost, almost- and then

The anniversary dinner was vibrant- Diana and Rob were beaming at their thirty-fifth wedding anniversary, their hands intertwined under the table as they soaked in the love around them. A grand chandelier hung from the center of the ceiling, its crystals reflecting soft specks of light across the room. A grand piano hummed softly in the background, the melody weaving effortlessly between bursts of laughter and the gentle clinking of silverware against fine china.

Each table was set with crisp white linens, polished silverware, and delicate wine glasses that caught the flickering candlelight. Floor-to-ceiling windows reveal a breathtaking city skyline in the distance, the lights of the buildings shimmering against the deep indigo sky. A soft murmur of conversation fills the space, blending with the distant notes of a live jazz band playing in the corner- smooth, unintrusive, the perfect background to the night.

Servers glide seamlessly between tables, refilling glasses of expensive wine and delivering beautifully plated dishes- filet mignon drizzled with a rich reduction, fresh seafood resting on beds of saffron-infused risotto, vibrant salads topped with edible flowers. The air carries a mix of aromas- seared butter, truffle, aged wine- all adding to the indulgence of the evening.

Rob and Diane recounted how they first met as college students. Rob was a business major, Diane a hard-core history major and their paths only crossed due to an elective that neither of them took seriously. He sat behind her, always borrowing a pen and forgetting to return it, and she never let him live it down.

The first time they met outside of college, it was due to a mutual friend who invited them to a bonfire and since then, they’d become friends. Diane was the type to dissect novels over coffee, eyes lighting up as she talked about themes and subtext, while Rob would listen, teasingly pretending to understand before admitting he was just there for the caffeine. She thought he was annoyingly charming; he thought she was terrifyingly smart.

Their love wasn’t immediate- it grew in late-night study sessions, in shared laughter over bad takeout, in the quiet understanding of knowing someone will always show up when you need them.

It wasn’t until a particularly disastrous double date- where Diane was set up with someone else and spent the entire night wishing she wasn’t- that she finally realized it. She left her date at the restaurant, showed up at Rob’s apartment unannounced and professed her love for him.

They got married a few years later, not in a grand wedding but in a small ceremony surrounded by close friends and family. Their love wasn’t about dramatic declarations or fairy-tale intensity- it was about showing up, about choosing each other, over and over again.

And that’s exactly what they had been doing ever since.

When Rob finished telling their story, the table erupted in applause and sappy praises. Y/N, caught in the warmth of the moment, glanced across the table and met Jake’s eyes.

Just for a second. It meant nothing, but a small part of her wished it would.

He smirked slightly, barely perceptible, before taking a sip of his drink. She shook her head, looking away, though there was an undeniable heat crawling up her neck.

Meanwhile, Mark and Evelyn passed them their anniversary gift, a coupon for a cooking class with a famous chef that was coming into town and everyone burst into laughter.

“Mark, your cooking skills are just as bad as mine,” Rob jabbed at Mark but accepted the joke anyway.

Jake gifted them a custom made wine that they promised they’d crack open for a taste back at home. Sam got them a custom made vinyl that included all their favourite songs. Y/N gave them a handmade photo album of the pictures she’s taken of them since she’d known them- from when she was thirteen to twenty-five.

Jake nudged her with his shoulder, wiggling his brows. “That’s an impressive gift,” he praised. “How’d you think of it?”

“To be completely honest,” she started, ignoring the strength of his gaze, the heat of how close his face was. “It was last minute,” Jake laughed and leaned back, finishing the last of his drink as Y/N rolled her eyes. Sam caught sight of their exchange, signaling towards her in curiosity. She simply shook her head and tucked her hair behind her ear.

Y/N didn’t know when she started looking at Jake differently. The crush she had on him when they were children had long faded, dissolving into something distant and unremarkable. When he left, the pedestal she had placed him on disappeared too, replaced by the cold realization that life moves on, with or without the people you thought would always be there. For years, Jake existed to her only in memories- half-formed recollections of laughter in sunlit backyards, inside jokes that lost their meaning over time, and the echo of a boy who once felt larger than life.

And then he came back.

At first, he was just a fragment of the past- familiar but distant, like an old song she used to love but hadn’t listened to in years. She recognized him, but she didn’t know him anymore, not really. He was Jake, but he was also someone entirely different.

Somewhere along the way, though, things shifted. She saw him in the in-between moments- the way he loosened his tie at dinner, the way he leaned back in his chair, quiet but present. She caught the subtle changes in him: the ease in which he navigated conversation, the flashes of his old self woven into someone more composed, more grounded. And somehow, without realizing it, she had stopped seeing him as just a remnant of childhood and started seeing him as a man.

And that realization unsettled her more than she cared to admit.

The dinner wound down in a way that felt natural, warm, and just a little bittersweet.

After the last round of toasts, the servers brought out a beautifully plated anniversary dessert- a chocolate cake with the words Happy Anniversary decorated on it. Diane and Rob, still glowing from the celebration, shared a quiet moment, their hands intertwined as they took the first bite.

Conversations softened as people settled into a comfortable post-meal haze. The older family members reminisced about past anniversaries, the younger ones grew restless, and somewhere in between, Y/N, Jake, and Sam found themselves caught in the cozy lull of it all.

Jake leaned back in his chair, swirling the last sip of wine in his glass. Sam checked his watch, subtly nudging Y/N to start thinking about heading out. Evelyn and Mark joked about who would pick up the tab this year- Mark swore it was his turn, but Sam already had his card out.

Eventually, coats were retrieved, hugs were exchanged, and Diane and Rob thanked everyone for making the night so special.

Outside, the night air was crisp, and the city hummed with life. The family stepped onto the sidewalk together, still wrapped in the lingering warmth of the evening. Mark and Evelyn walked ahead, their laughter carrying through the night, while Diane and Rob strolled behind, their hands intertwined as they whispered to each other.

Jake and Y/N fell into step beside one another, a quiet comfort settling over them as Sam guided them to the car. Sam drove and Y/N sat up front, leaving Jake to his phone in the back. Occasionally, Jake would catch Y/N’s eyes looking at him through the rearview mirror and just as fast as he’d catch her, she’d look away and back at her phone.

“It’s nice to have parents that are so in love,” Sam said.

“Thirty-five years,” Jake said. “That’s crazy.”

“Do you think we’ll ever have that?” Sam mused.

“I can’t lie, Sam,” Y/N started. “I thought you’d be married by now.”

“I’m still young.”

“Mom and dad got married in their twenties.”

“Shut up, Jake.”

Sam had his fair share of love stories when it came to his dating life. He dated a few people during high school, then in college but once he started working, looking for someone that wanted commitment was like looking for a needle in a haystack. He’d been on a plethora of dates before. Some were set up by his friends, others by his parents but nothing seemed to work out. He even had a phase, not many years ago, where he was desperate to settle down and even prayed to God that he’d get married soon and start a family.

Jake didn’t know about that phase.

“I’m sure you’ll find someone, Sam,” Y/N said to him, rubbing his arm before concentrating on her phone again. “I’m sure we all will.”

“Aren’t you too young to know what you want?” Sam asked, unbeknownst. He’d forgotten what it was like to be her age, to be young and filled with hope about what the future could hold. At his age, he’d started losing hope and entered into a stage of acceptance.

“I don’t know,” Y/N shrugged. “I know what I want now. God knows how I’ll feel five years later, right?”

“Five years go by fast,” Sam sighed.

“Yeah tell me about it,” Y/N scoffed. “I can’t imagine pushing thirty- I don’t know how you did it, bro.”

“The hits just never stop coming,” Sam rolled his eyes and the other two chuckled. They caught each other’s gaze again, this time deliberate and unmistakingly.

Jake’s fingers tapped idly against his knee. “Pushing thirty can’t be so bad,” he mused, his voice just a little softer. “Depends on who you’re spending it with.”

Y/N’s breath hitched, barely perceptible.

Sam, completely unaware, let out a dramatic sigh. “If you two are gonna start getting existential, I might actually drive this car into the river.”

Y/N tore her gaze away first, shaking her head with a quiet laugh. But even as she looked away, she felt it- Jake’s stare, lingering like a thought left unfinished.

When Sam parked in their garage, he said he’d see them at the Y/L/N’s house. Their parents had already made their way there, buzzing to open the bottle of Jake’s wine. Y/N and Jake found themselves stuck in the hall, leaving them in the aftermath of the evening.

Y/N sank into the couch, exhaling as the evening settled into her bones. The soft hum of the house filled the quiet, but it felt different now- like something was brewing beneath it. She barely had a moment to gather her thoughts before Jake walked in, a glass of water in hand.

“Here,” he said, handing it to her.

His fingers brushed against hers as she took the glass, and she swore she felt it more than she should have. She lifted it to her lips, taking a slow sip, before setting it on the table. When she glanced back at him, he was still looking at her.

“You look really beautiful tonight.”

“Thank you,” she cracked him a grin, letting her hands fall to her waist to feel the fabric of her black dress, hugging her curves in all the right places. He looked at her like he knew exactly what was underneath- which he did but she didn’t know that. “You look quite dapper in the suit, too,” she said.

Jake chuckled with a nod, ridding himself of his blazer before collapsing beside her too. Jake loosened his tie, letting out a slow breath as he settled beside her. His shoulder brushed against hers, not by accident, and she felt the warmth of him seep through the space between them.

“I forgot how exhausting these things could be,” he sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“Really?”She let out a laugh. “You’ve been to bigger events than this as an idol, right?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “But it’s different.”

“Right,” she nodded. “What was it like? The idol life.”

Since he’d been back, this was the first time anyone in his family had asked him the question. It almost felt like everyone was tiptoeing around it- knowing but not knowing, avoiding but begging. When Y/N let the question spill from her mouth, it felt like a weight had lifted.

“Haven't you watched any of our videos? Interviews?” Jake asked and felt himself frown when she shook her head.

“I’ve listened to your music and everything,” she admitted. “But the rest… your mom watched everything. Like every single thing and sometimes, if I’m in the hall, I’ll watch with her. I’ve seen glimpses. That’s all.”

“That’s fair,” he said, bringing his lips between his teeth. “Life isn’t the way they show it on the internet, anyway.”

“I figured,” she said. “I heard it’s rough.”

“It is- especially I-Land. God I hated it,” he groaned. “But, to be honest, we had it easier than some of the other groups.”

“I don’t know how you’re surviving,” she said. “The past eight years of your life- it’s just been non-stop. Albums, interviews, tours, filming, cameras 24/7. Makes me wonder if you had time for anything else.”

“Like what?”

“Life in general, I guess?” Y/N shrugged. “You never got to experience all the normal things in life- college, dating, friends, family.”

“I meant, the members were my friends- we basically lived a lifetime's worth together,” Jake leaned over to take the abandoned glass of water. “Plus, we all have dated before,” he said, slowly bringing the rim of the glass to his lips and keeping a cheeky gaze on Y/N perked expression.

“Is it?” She raised her brows.

“Yeah, well it wasn’t like a priority,” he dabbled. “I wasn’t a monk but yeah. I’ve been with people,” he placed the glass in its previous position and rolled up his sleeves. The veins in his arms burgled, the muscle wrapped around his bones all the more evident. Y/N pretended not to notice.

“People? Plural?”

Jake shrugged, resting his arm on the back of the couch. “I mean, not a lot. I wasn’t out here having some wild double life. But it happened.”

“Who?” she pressed.

He gave her a look. “You expect me to name names?”

“Obviously.”

Jake laughed under his breath, shaking his head. “A couple were people in the industry- idols, dancers. People who got it, you know? No attachments, no drama. And then a couple outside of it, whenever I had the time.”

Y/N processed that. It makes sense. He had spent years balancing an insane schedule, under constant scrutiny. A full-fledged relationship must’ve felt impossible. Not just because of time- though that was reason enough- but because of the pressure, the expectations. The way love, for him, could never just be his. It belonged to headlines, to speculations, to strangers who thought they knew him better than he knew himself.

She could picture it now- the missed calls, the messages left on read, the late nights where exhaustion pressed heavier than longing. The way something as simple as meeting someone for coffee could turn into a scandal overnight. How could anyone sustain something real under those circumstances?

And yet… Here he was.

Sitting beside her in the quiet, where no cameras could reach, no voices could interfere. Just them. She glanced at him, at the way his fingers rested on his knee, the way he looked at her like he was waiting for something- an answer, maybe. Or maybe just for her to understand.

“What about you, Y/N?”

“What?”

“How was your life?” He continued, moving on from their previous conversation. “You know, after I left.”

“You say that like we were close,” she chuckled.

“So?” He pressed. “Go on, I wanna know.”

“I feel like you don’t really know me,” she said, resting her head on the couch. “Like, you’ve missed a lot.”

Jake blinked. “What do you mean?”

She exhaled, rolling her lips together like she was deciding whether to say it at all. “You were gone for a long time, Jake.”

He didn’t argue.

Y/N studied him for a moment, finding regret in his glassy eyes. “You weren’t there when I had my first friendship break up and Sam had to lull me to sleep- you know what I mean? Like, you weren’t there to know.”

“Yeah, I get it,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “I wasn’t there, I got it.”

“failed my first job interview because I was so nervous I forgot my own name.” She laughed at herself, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “And I spent a whole year thinking I wanted to be a photographer before realizing I wasn’t actually any good at it. And I took a break year after high school because I was so depressed and lost that I just wanted to rot in bed. This was after the remodeling so at least I got to do that in style.”

Jake watched her closely, his chest tightening with something complicated, something that feels a lot like regret. He should have been there for those moments. Not just the milestones, but the quiet, insignificant ones, too. The late-night doubts, the tiny victories, the way she figured herself out piece by piece.

He missed it all.

“Now, even my closest friends are scattered in different countries. The only people I ever really had were my parents and your family,” she said. “Sam was really the only person I trusted for a really long time.”

“Oh.”

“It’s not that serious, though. I know I say it like a sob story,” she laughed. “I’m so content with where I am now.”

“I’m glad, Y/N,” Jake trailed off, letting his fingers find a place on her knee. “I’m sorry.”

“I don’t know why it felt so weird when you left,” she continued. “I think you were my first introduction to life… you know that quote? Nothing stays the same? You made me realise that.”

Jake swallowed, hard.

“Y/N…”

“No, seriously,” Y/N smiled again, trying to assure him that he needn’t feel guilty. But talking about herself for the first time felt freeing. For the longest time, it was always about him- his problems, his issues, his needs and his protection. Now he was listening to her, all the sorrows, grieves, wins and achievements that made her who she was. “I love my life right now.”

“I should have stayed in touch,” he whispered.

Y/N let out a small scoff, but there was no real bite to it. “Yeah, well. You didn’t.”

The silence that followed was thick, stretching between them like a thread pulled too tight. Neither of them moved, neither of them spoke. The hum of the house felt distant now, drowned out by the weight of everything that had been left unsaid.

Then, softly- so softly that Jake almost didn’t hear it- Y/N murmured, “I hate you a little bit.”

His stomach twisted. It wasn’t the words themselves, but the way she said them. Fragile, unguarded. A quiet confession laced with something bitter, something vulnerable. She hadn’t meant it, not really. But it still landed somewhere deep inside him, settling in the space between regret and longing.

Jake exhaled slowly, tilting his head as he studied her. “Yeah?”

She nodded, watching him carefully. “Yeah.”

But her voice wavered just slightly, and that was when he saw it- the way her fingers tightened against her lap, the way her chest rose and fell a little too deliberately. She wasn’t just angry. She was hurt.

Jake shifted closer, just a fraction, barely enough to call it movement. But she noticed. He saw the flicker of something in her eyes, something sharp and aching. The hand that was placed on her knee pressed further into her skin and she let him, her eyes darting between his. Her lips were pulled between her teeth in curiosity, anticipating.

Her gaze flickered- to his lips, to his hands and then back to his eyes. Then, with a quiet breath, Jake leaned in just a little more, not enough to close the distance, but enough to make her heart race in her chest. He swallowed and his lips parted but it did nothing to steady him.

“Good.”

Slowly, softly, he placed his lips on hers- almost as though he was testing the waters, waiting to see what her reaction would be. And then she moved, bringing herself closer to him and her hands wrapping around his neck. His hands flew towards her waist, sliding towards her hips and their lips moved in harmony. Jake could feel the world around him come back together in one piece- perhaps this was all that he needed, her hands in his hair, his fingers buried in the skin of her legs.

Her dress limited her movements and when he realised, Jake took no time in lifting the hem of her dress to her waist and dragging her onto his lap. Yelping into his mouth, she chuckled and continued to kiss him- breathless and desperate as the air around them finally seemed to settle, as though this was what was meant to happen all this while.

“I’ve waited for this,” Jake tilted his head and placed another kiss on her lips. “For so long,” then he kissed her cheek and trailed them down her neck, playing with the strap of her dress before ultimately pulling them down.

Her tits spilled out of the dress, the dress bunching at her waist as cool air hit her skin. She let her fingers unbutton his shirt, hands trailing to feel the skin underneath- warmth and curves that she didn’t know she needed to touch until then.

“I missed you, Jake,” she found herself saying between breaths. “I really missed you.”

vi. 偷偷藏不住

The song Jake had written and perfected all those months ago? He’d finally sent it out to a list of labels and he hadn’t told anyone. And he wasn’t planning on it either. Not because he didn’t want to or because he was selfish- it was because he didn’t want to jinx. Over his time in Korea, he’d started believing in superstitions and found that sometimes, though it didn’t seem natural, they just made sense. He didn’t want to think about it.

He focused on Y/N instead. Jake leaned back in the chair, watching Y/N from across the room. She was reading, her legs tucked beneath her as she sat on the couch. She didn’t seem to notice his gaze, but he couldn’t help it. It had become almost natural to look at her, to appreciate the quiet moments when she was lost in something, anything, and how she looked when she didn’t realize he was watching.

He wanted to tell her about the song, to tell her about the labels he’d sent it to. He wanted to share this part of his life with her- something that meant a lot, something that felt like it could change everything. But he didn’t want to risk it. Not yet.

"Hey," he said softly, breaking the silence.

Y/N looked up, meeting his eyes with a small smile. "Yeah?"

He felt that familiar flutter in his chest. There was something about her presence that had become his anchor, the thing he always wanted to come back to after everything else.

“Wanna go do something?”

The pair found themselves at the beach, bikini and trunks clad as they hopped into the car in the middle of the night. The sound of waves crashing against the shore was louder, the rhythm almost hypnotic. The moon cast a pale glow over the water, and the sand felt soft beneath their feet.

Jake kicked off his shoes, and Y/N followed suit without a word. The sand was cool against her skin as they walked along the shore, the sound of their footsteps swallowed by the waves. It was peaceful, but there was an energy in the air, an unspoken current between them.

“This is exactly what I needed,” Y/N said softly, pulling her jacket tighter around her shoulders. She glanced up at him, her smile warm. “You always know how to pick the perfect places.”

Jake didn’t answer right away. He was too busy watching her, trying to read the subtle shifts in her expression. “You look happy,” he said, his voice low.

“I’m always happy,” she looked at him confused, though her smile refused to leave her mouth.

“You know, you should really let me take you out more. The beach, I mean. Doesn’t seem right to keep coming here alone.”

Y/N smirked, glancing at him sidelong. “Yeah? And you think I’d let you drag me around more?”

“Maybe,” he said, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “If you let me, I think I’d be able to.”

They started off just walking along the shore, the waves occasionally rushing up to their feet. It was quiet at first, the air between them still carrying the weight of unspoken things. But then, without thinking much about it, Y/N bent down and scooped up a handful of wet sand, letting it slip through her fingers.

Jake, watching her, smirked. “Don’t even think about it.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, pretending to be innocent. “Think about what?”

Jake didn’t trust her for a second, stepping back cautiously. “You’re gonna throw that at me.”

She grinned. “Am I?”

Before he could react, she flicked the remaining sand in his direction- not enough to be a real attack, just enough to be annoying. Jake let out a sharp laugh, shaking his head. “Alright. You asked for it.”

Without warning, he lunged toward her. Y/N yelped and tried to take off running, but he was faster, grabbing her wrist and spinning her back toward him. They were both breathless, tangled in laughter, and before she could think of an escape plan, he lifted a handful of sand and let it sprinkle over the top of her head.

“Jake- ” she gasped, swatting at him. “You- ”

But he was already bolting down the beach, laughing like a kid. Y/N groaned but didn’t hesitate before chasing after him, their footprints overlapping in the sand. The chase was brief—he let her catch him. And when she did, she shoved him lightly, but instead of letting her go, he caught her hand, pulling her into a sudden spin.

They stumbled into the surf, waves washing over their ankles, the water shockingly cold. But neither of them cared. They were still laughing, breathless, eyes locked for a beat too long.

Jake’s grin softened, his hands still lightly holding hers. “Truce?” he asked, though his voice carried something else, something softer.

Y/N tilted her head, lips curving mischievously. “I don’t know. I kind of liked seeing you flustered.”

He exhaled a laugh, shaking his head. “You’re impossible.”

And yet, he didn’t let go.

“I’m really glad things turned out this way,” Jake mumbled, sliding his hands onto her forearms.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Me too,” she said. “The last thing I expected to happen but- I’m glad.”

“I don’t want to mess things up,” he admitted. “I don’t want anything to change.”

“What could possibly go wrong?”

They lay there, supine on the beach, the cool grains of sand tangling into their hair and clinging to their damp clothes. The tide hummed a steady rhythm in the distance, the waves kissing the shore before pulling back.

Neither of them spoke for a while, letting the silence stretch between them, filled only by the whisper of the wind and the distant cries of seabirds. The sky, once speckled with stars, had begun its slow transformation- deep blues fading into softer shades, the first streaks of pink and gold bleeding into the horizon.

Jake turned his head slightly, glancing at Y/N. Her eyes were fixed on the sky, a serene expression softening her features. He resisted the urge to reach out, to brush the sand off her cheek, to tuck a stray piece of hair behind her ear. Instead, he exhaled, letting his fingers curl into the sand beside hers, close but not quite touching.

As the first light of morning stretched over the ocean, she finally spoke, her voice quiet, like she didn’t want to disturb the moment. “We should head back.”

Jake hummed in agreement, but neither of them moved right away. It wasn’t until the sky had fully surrendered to the dawn that they finally pushed themselves up, dusting off the remnants of the night.

It was probably one of the tiny, frustrating connector pieces that held larger sections together- the kind that looked identical to five others but somehow wouldn’t fit wherever it was supposed to. Maybe they were struggling with part of the hull, where two large sections needed to snap into place but keep misaligning, or a delicate detail like the tiny lifeboats that wouldn’t sit right.

Jake, exasperated, insisted they were missing a piece. Y/N argued that they just weren’t looking hard enough. Sam found them arguing when he walked in and it was almost comical.

“How are you so stupid?!”

“I’m not stupid, you’re just not reading the instructions right!”

“Is this how you want to spend the weekend?” He laughed, standing between the pair that were laying stomach down on the floor in Jake's carpeted room. “Have nothing better to do?”

“We’re finishing this before Monday or I’ll lose my shit, I swear,” Y/N pointed a threatening finger at both of them. “I keep seeing it half cooked sitting on his shelf and it’s driving me off the walls.”

Sam gave her a puzzled look. “You visit his room that often?” He looked between the pair.

Jake and Y/N, caught off guard, started looking at each other, wide eyes and pursed lips. They didn’t know what to say to him, allow him into their secret or gaslight him until he left. Y/N wasn’t even sure why he asked such a question.

“Sam, help us or leave!”

Sam lingered for a second, looking between them with suspicion but ultimately shrugging it off. He figured that if there was anything weird going on between the pair, he would have caught on by now. But unbeknownst to him, the pair had been dating for a couple of months now, stealing stolen moments with their hands clasped under the table during lunch, taking Layla out on walks, grocery shopping together and sneaking into each other’s rooms in the middle of the night. They felt like teenagers all over again, not having experienced such a rendezvous as children.

Sam helped them, though not without rolling his eyes first. He plopped down beside them, picking up a random piece and squinting at the half-finished model.

“You two are way too invested in this,” he muttered, trying, and failing, to snap a section into place.

Jake scoffed. “Says the guy who just sat down to help.”

Y/N smirked, nudging Sam’s shoulder. “Face it, you can’t resist a challenge.”

The room settled into a concentrated quiet, filled only with the occasional snap of plastic bricks clicking together and the muttered curses when a piece refused to fit.

At one point, Jake’s hand brushed against Y/N’s, lingering for just a second too long. She shot him a look- half warning, half fondness. He smirked but said nothing.

Sam, blissfully unaware, kept building.

“We’ve scheduled another group call tonight,” Jake piped while trying to pluck apart a pair of parts he accidentally stuck together.

“Oh?” Sam smiled.

“Yeah, I’m excited,” he continued. “It’s been a while. I think the last time was a couple months ago- before mom and dad’s anniversary.”

“Yeah, I think the last time you told me, Heeseung’s brother was getting engaged,” Y/N mulled over the details that Jake told her all those months ago but ultimately gave up.

“So everyone’s getting married but me?” Sam groaned and rolled his eyes, huffing as he continued to read the instructions of the LEGO set.

The pair ignored him. “Yeah,” Jake confirmed. “My birthday’s coming up, right? So they all said they wanted to call. I think this is gonna become a norm- I hope so, at least.”

“I hope so, too,” Y/N smiled at him and they silently went back to playing with their impossible set of LEGOs.

The group call was already in complete disarray by the time Jake joined. Sunghoon was mid-rant about something, gesturing aggressively at his camera while Jay, half-listening, scrolled through his phone. Heeseung had his mic muted, but his shoulders shook with silent laughter, probably watching something stupid on another tab. Jungwon, ever the responsible one, was trying to get everyone’s attention, but Sunoo kept cutting him off, making dramatic expressions every time someone spoke.

“Can you guys just-” Jungwon started.

“Wait, wait, do that face again,” Sunoo interrupted, pointing at his screen, barely holding back laughter.

Jungwon sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “This is why we never get anything done.”

Meanwhile, Ni-ki, who had been quiet the entire time, suddenly leaned in, squinting at his screen. “Jake, are you in bed? Bro, it’s not even that late.”

Jake scoffed, adjusting his laptop. “It’s-” He checked the time. “It’s eleven.”

“Exactly.”

“Finally,” Sunghoon scoffed, sipping from a can of soda. “The birthday boy graces us with his presence.”

“It’s not even my birthday yet,” Jake chuckled, adjusting the laptop on his lap.

“Yeah, well, none of us are free on the actual day,” Jay pointed out. “So this is what you get.”

“Be grateful we even remembered,” Heeseung joked.

“You didn’t,” Jungwon said flatly. “I reminded all of you.”

Jake chuckled, the warmth of familiarity settling into his chest. The conversation continued in its usual chaotic rhythm—teasing, overlapping chatter, and Sunoo dramatically reenacting something that had happened earlier that week. Then, amidst the noise, Jungwon shifted in his seat, glancing away from the screen as if distracted by something off-camera.

Jake barely noticed at first, too busy laughing at whatever ridiculous claim Ni-ki had just made. But then Jungwon disappeared from his frame entirely, leaving only the top of his head visible for a moment. The others barely registered it, still caught up in their conversation, until he reappeared, this time holding something in his hands.

An actual birthday cake.

The glow of the candles flickered softly, illuminating his face as he settled back in his seat. The sight of it made the conversation stutter for a second before Heeseung let out a surprised laugh. “No way. You actually got a cake?”

Jungwon grinned, a little sheepish but mostly pleased with himself. “Well, yeah. Someone had to.”

“Jungwon, I would marry you,” Jake gasped.

“I lit the candles,” Jungwon went on, ignoring them. “But then I realized that would be kinda pointless since you’re, y’know… not here.”

Jay nodded solemnly. “Yeah, the whole blowing-out-the-candles part kinda loses its charm when we’d have to just pretend you did it.”

“We could all blow on our screens at the same time,” Heeseung suggested.

“That’s disgusting,” Sunghoon said immediately.

The whole thing was so dumb, so completely stupid, and yet Jake felt a knot in his throat. They really didn’t have to do all this, but they did. Just to make him feel a little bit like they were together again.

They spent the next hour catching up- on music, on random TV shows, on things they’d seen online that reminded them of each other. The conversation never stayed in one place for too long, always shifting like waves, full of interruptions and tangents that made no sense.

At some point, when the laughter died down just enough, Jake cleared his throat. “So, uh… I wanted to tell you guys something.”

“Is he finally admitting he sucks at Mario Kart?” Heeseung cut in.

Jake rolled his eyes. “No.”

Surprisingly, the call had ceased to a silence and everyone stared at their screen, waiting for Jake to say something. Sunoo looked the most bewildered, surprised at how silent it had gone.

“So?” Jay coaxed.

“I sent my song to a few labels,” He finally blurted out.

Silence. A split-second beat before the entire call erupted.

“NO WAY-”

“DUDE!”

“WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL US?”

“This is huge!”

“Any news yet?”

Jake let them go on for a bit, barely holding back a smile. “Nothing yet,” he admitted. “Didn’t wanna jinx it. But… I don't know. It feels good to finally put it out there.”

“Well, we’re proud of you,” Jungwon said firmly, and the others nodded along. “Like, really proud.”

Jake exhaled, some of his nerves settling. He knew they meant it. That’s why he’d wanted to tell them- despite his stupid superstitions, despite his own fears. After they all spent a few seconds clapping, Heeseung had moved on to talking about his brother’s wedding. He told them that he was the best man and that it would most probably take place a year later- the happy couple were busy figuring out their schedules and work that delaying it felt like the best idea.

“You’re all invited, by the way,” he announced. “Mark your calendars.”

“To an unknown date?” Sunghoon sputtered out laughing.

“Be grateful I even invited you,” Heeseung deadpanned.

“I’ll probably have a date for the wedding,” Jake said. “Is that okay?”

The call ceased to a silence once more as the group processed the information. This time, Niki was the most bewildered, raising his brows and side-eyeing his Hyung with confusion. Then, Heeseung let out a scoff.

“I’m dating someone-”

“It’s Y/N,” Jungwon deadpanned.

“How the fuck did you know.”

“Dude, it was so obvious. You talk about her all the time,” Jay rolled his eyes.

“Well,” Sunoo said, dragging out the word. “Looks like Jake’s the first one of us to get a girlfriend.”

“Not surprised,” Jay snorted. “He was always the freakiest one out of all of us.”

Jake choked. “What the hell does that even mean?!”

“I thought that was Heeseung Hyung,” Niki’s voice drowned out.

“C’mon, man,” Sunghoon smirked. “We’ve all seen you in action.”

“Oh my God.”

“I’m not even shocked it’s Y/N,” Sunghoon went on. “This was bound to happen.”

Niki hummed. “Honestly, I thought it was already happening, and you two were just waiting to say something,” and Jungwon followed his profuse nodding.

Jake groaned as the teasing continued, hands covering his face. But underneath the embarrassment, he felt lighter. Like everything was finally where it was supposed to be.

vii. Happy birthday?

One thing about Jake’s family- they never did celebrations halfway. With the kind of wealth they had, extravagant parties and lavish dinners were almost expected, a given for any occasion worth acknowledging. But this time was different. This time was special.

For the first time in nearly a decade, they were celebrating Jake’s birthday together, all of them in the same place, at the same table. If that wasn’t reason enough to book the most exclusive restaurant in town for the night, then what was?

The clinking of glasses, the gentle hum of background music, the soft glow of candlelight- it all felt like a moment frozen in time, one he’d look back on and remember as nothing but happiness. His mother sat beside him, refilling everyone’s glasses, a proud smile never leaving her face. His father, usually reserved, was surprisingly talkative, sharing stories from Jake’s childhood that had everyone laughing. Sam, always the troublemaker, kept trying to sneak extra bites of dessert before it was even served, earning a playful slap on the arm from their mother.

“We went to an astrologer when Jake was born and we told her to read his future,” Rob, a drunken mess, raised his wine in the air. “She told us that he would grow up to do great things- and he did!”

Rob desperately tried making him stop drinking.

“He always used to drool as a child,” his mom reminisced. “And always picked at his lips- that habit never left.”

“God, mom,” Jaked rolled his eyes.

Y/N sat across from Jake, her eyes catching the light just right, and every so often, when their gazes met, she’d smile at him in a way that made his heart trip over itself. She was wearing the dress he bought for him and the jewelry he picked out- he told her that this was his way of showing his love and appreciation and the pair also scheduled birthday sex where he’d eventually rip everything off of her.

The table was full of laughter, teasing, and clumsy attempts at making a toast. Someone- probably Sam- had convinced the waitstaff to bring out an over-the-top birthday cake, three tiers tall, decorated with sleek gold details. They all cheered as Jake cut the first slice, feeding a bite to his mother first, then his dad, then Y/N and Sam and then Mark and Evelyn.

While they all posed for a family photo, Jake’s phone vibrated. He didn’t think much of it at first, chalking it up to a random app notification or another birthday wish from a random contact. Everyone had moved on to use the karaoke and Jake had even forgotten about checking it. He sang two, maybe three songs before handing the mic over to Mark and Sam and he settled onto a chair beside Y/N, enjoying the show.

It wasn’t until Y/N went up to sing that Jake took his phone out. His intention was to record her, maybe use the video to black mail her in the future. But then he saw the notification and he swallowed, hard. His hands quivered and his head spun- he was sure he was either being carried in cloud-nine or being buried six feet under. Both were bad, at that moment, when he realised what was at stake.

Y/N. Their relationship.

Y/N stopped mid-song, letting the karaoke machine drawl its music as her attention landed on Jake. He looked scared and she grew concerned. “Jake?” Everyone’s attention turned to head, heads snapping in unison.

“What is it?” Sam placed a hand on his shoulder, peeking past his head to find his email opened on the screen of his phone. “What is it?”

Jake swallowed, gripping his phone tighter as if grounding himself. His heart pounded so loudly he could barely hear the karaoke music in the background. “I, uh-” His voice wavered, and he exhaled sharply, forcing himself to just say it. “One of the companies I sent my song to… they liked it.”

Silence. A heavy, breathless kind of silence where the weight of his words sank in.

“They don’t just like it,” he continued, lifting his phone slightly as if to prove it was real. “They want me to come to New York. They’re offering me a job.”

Y/N’s eyes widened. Sam’s hand tightened on his shoulder. Around the room, expressions flickered between shock, excitement, and something unreadable.

“Holy shit.”

“No way.”

“Jake, that’s huge!”

His mother’s hand flew to her mouth, eyes already welling up. Sam clapped his back so hard he nearly dropped his phone. Y/N just stared at him, lips parted, and in the dim light of the private room, he swore he saw something shift in her expression.

“You never told us.”

It was the night before Jake was flying to New York. His bags were packed, tickets were booked and the family had already had a farewell dinner together. His mom cried and his father raised a toast for being blessed with two remarkable sons. Mark and Evelyn quipped about how he was already leaving, having barely been back. Y/N, however, had stayed quiet, looking at everyone through her lashes and past the rim of her wine glass. Occasionally, she would crack a smile but it was evident that it was feigned. No one bothered to ask her the matter, though, in fear of ruining the already sad night of Jake’s departure.

The night that Jake found out about his job offer, the night of his birthday a few months ago, he and Y/N came home to a huge fight. She was throwing pillows at him, almost ripping them to shreds for the feathers to come flying out. She then threw her heels at him, all out of pure anger as she cursed at him and asked why he hadn’t told her sooner, to give her a heads-up as to what to expect. Then, she broke down in tears, slumping into a ball in the corner of his room, hiding her face into her hands as sobs escaped her throat.

“Why do you keep doing this to me?” She repeated her words over and over again and Jake comforted her, not knowing what else to do.

That night, he slept on the couch, mulling over all the rights and wrongs that he had committed in his life. However, he could never understand if leaving to pursue his dreams of k-pop was a right or wrong, virtue or sin. If he had never left and simply pursued his dream of engineering, maybe he and Y/N would have been planning their wedding right now. Maybe he would have been more familiar to his family.

After that fight, Y/N never brought it up again. She pretended like it never happened, spending the last of his days stuck beside him. She seemed normal, felt normal- so normal that it almost scared Jake. But he played into it, knowing he would regret it later.

When the dinner was over, Y/N was nowhere to be found- not in his room, not in Sam’s room and surely not with Layla, who was already sound asleep. So, he sauntered into the Y/L/N’s house and made his way towards her room. Her door was slightly ajar, but the room was empty. The faintest rustle of the curtains drew his attention to the open balcony doors, where a figure stood bathed in the silver glow of the moonlight. Y/N, arms resting on the railing, eyes lost in the distance.

Jake hesitated for a moment, taking in the way the night breeze lifted strands of her hair, how her shoulders rose and fell with a quiet exhale. Then, he stepped forward.

“Didn’t feel like staying?” He murmured, voice low as he leaned against the doorway.

She turned slightly, just enough for their eyes to meet. There was no smile, no teasing remark. “Needed some air.”

Jake nodded, stepping closer until he was beside her. “Mind if I join you?” She shook her head, and they stood in silence, the city stretching out before them, the weight of the night settling between them. “You’re quiet,” he pointed out.

She exhaled through her nose, a slow, deliberate breath. “Yeah.”

Something in her tone made his stomach twist.

Jake waited, hoping and praying that she would say something to fill the tension. But she wasn’t the type- she never was and never will be, now especially. So, Jake does.

“I didn’t mean for you to find out like that,” he said, voice careful.

“I know,” she nodded.

“I’m sorry it had to be this way, Y/N-”

“That’s all you have to say?” Y/N shot him a blank stare. “That you’re sorry?”

“No, of course-”

“Jake, you’re leaving me,” she said. “All over again.”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair, knowing where this would lead. “You know it’s not like that, Y/N.”

“Sure. It’s never fucking like that,” she let out a bitter chuckle. “Then tell me, Jake, what is it like? Because from where I’m standing, it looks exactly the same as last time. You left. You moved on. And now, you’re doing it again.”

“That’s not fair.”

“What’s not fair? That I let myself believe this time was different? That I actually thought you were going to stay?”

Jake stepped closer, instinctively reaching for her, but she took a step back. That hurt more than her words.

“I have to go,” he said quietly, almost pleading. “This is everything I’ve been working for-”

“Yeah, I fucking know that,” her voice raised. “Just let me be hurt.”

Her voice cracked, and suddenly, all the fight drained from her body. A shaky breath, a single tear sliding down her cheek, then another. She tried to blink them away, but her body betrayed her. Her fingers curled into trembling fists, and before she could stop herself, she buried her face in her hands, hair falling forward like a curtain to shield her from the world.

Jake felt something deep in his chest tighten, like a fist squeezing his heart until it ached. The sight of her breaking apart- because of him- was unbearable. Without thinking, he closed the space between them, pulling her into his arms. His hand cradled the back of her head, his other arm wrapping around her shoulders, holding her together as best as he could. Like she would slip through his fingers if he didn’t hold on tight enough. She mumbled a string of “I hate you”s into his chest, trying her best to break free until ultimately, she succumbed into his embrace.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice thick, uneven. He shut his eyes as he felt his own tears welling up. “I’m so sorry.”

Y/N clung to him, her fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as if that would make him stay. She pressed her forehead against his chest, and when she spoke again, her voice was muffled against his body, but he heard every single word.

“You know,” she started, sniffling, “when you first left for training, I spent almost a month sleeping in your bedroom because I missed you so damn much. I missed you, just missed seeing you around the house every day, walking to the bus stop with you and your brother, going to the market with our moms-” Her breath hitched. “I missed you so much, I didn’t think it could hurt this bad.”

Jake’s throat closed up. He squeezed his eyes shut, his chin pressing against the top of her head as if he could will away the weight of everything she was saying.

Because he remembered too.

He remembered the way she used to run to his house every morning, dragging him and Sam out by the wrists so they wouldn’t miss the bus. He remembered sneaking extra snacks into her grocery basket when their moms weren’t looking. He remembered lying on the grass beside her on summer nights, Sam yelling at them to come back inside to shelter against mosquitoes.

He remembered the first time he left.

And now, he was doing it again.

"I remember," he admitted, his voice raw. "I remember all of it, Y/N. I didn't forget."

Y/N let out a broken breath, like she had been waiting for those words.

Jake swallowed hard and pulled back just enough to look at her. Her eyes were red-rimmed, lashes damp, lips pressed into a thin line as if she were trying to stop them from trembling. She looked at him like he was already gone.

“I hate it, I hate leaving you like this,” he continued. His thumb brushed against her cheek, wiping away a tear that had just fallen. "But you have to know- none of it was ever easy for me, either."

For a moment, there was only the sound of their breathing, the distant hum of the city beyond the balcony, the weight of everything left unsaid pressing down on them.

Then, he reached for her hands, prying them gently away from his shirt. He held them between his own, squeezing.

"But I don’t want to lose you over this," he said softly.

Y/N's brows furrowed, her fingers twitching in his grasp. "You already are."

"Don't say that," he murmured. "Please."

“This is how it’s like to love someone like you, isn’t it?” Y/N pulled away from him, keeping him at an arm’s length as she wiped her nose with her forearm. He watched her through her puffy eyes and nose, her messy hair that he loved so much, and streaks of salty tears on her cheeks that looked permanent. “Someone who never feels like they have enough- who’s never content.”

“You think I’m not content with you?” Jake’s voice was laced with disbelief, his brows knitting together as he took a hesitant step forward.

Y/N let out a hollow laugh, shaking her head. “Jake, that’s not what I meant.”

“Then what did you mean?” His voice was quiet, but there was an edge to it now- like he was bracing himself for something he didn’t want to hear.

She exhaled shakily, running a hand through her hair. “I mean that you’re always searching for something more. Something bigger. It’s who you are. And I love that about you, but it also means that I- ” she paused, her voice catching in her throat. “I’ll never be enough to make you stay.”

Jake’s stomach twisted. “Y/N- ”

“Don’t,” she whispered, cutting him off. “Just- don’t try to tell me that’s not true.”

Jake wanted to argue. Wanted to hold her and tell her that she was wrong, that she meant the world to him, that she represented everything good that he had going on in his life. That she was the one constant in his life, the person he always came back to, the one who knew him better than anyone else. That no matter where he went or what he chased after, she was always in the back of his mind, woven into every decision, every late-night doubt, every quiet moment when he let himself wonder what truly mattered. But deep down, wasn’t there truth to what she was saying?

“Come with me,” Jake breathed.

“What?”

“To New York. Come with me.”

She let out a breath, shaking her head before he even finished speaking. “Jake…”

He took her hands in his, gripping them like if he held tight enough, she wouldn’t slip away. “Why not? We’ll figure it out, we always do-”

She pulled her hands away. “Because I don’t want to,” she admitted, her voice thick with uncertainty. “I love my life here. My job, my family- everything. I like being the most loved person in the room at home, I like walking the same streets I grew up on. This is my dream, Jake. This,” she gestured vaguely, meaning everything- the life she had built, the people she had around her, the version of herself she had grown into.

Jake felt something crack inside of him. “So that’s it?” His voice was quiet now, the fight leaving him as quickly as it came. “You won’t even try?”

“You expect me to leave my perfect life?”

“You expect me to leave mine?”

“I never said that,” Y/N stood firm on her words. “I just asked you to let me hurt.”

That night, their bodies spoke in ways words never could. Desperation laced every touch, every kiss, as if they could etch each other into memory through skin alone. Jake’s hands traced the curves of her back, pressing her closer, like if he held her tight enough, he could somehow stay. Clothes were shed in silence, urgency melting into slow, lingering movements. He kissed every inch of her, memorizing the way she shivered under his touch, the way her breath hitched when he whispered her name against her lips. It wasn’t just love- it was grief, the kind that settled deep in the bones, knowing this was the last time they would be like this.

The drive to the airport was unbearably silent. The weight of what lay ahead pressed against them, thick in the air. Y/N sat in the passenger seat, her fingers curled into the fabric of her hoodie, staring out at the passing streets she knew by heart. Jake sat beside her, his hands curled into fists against his jeans, knuckles white. Every so often, he stole a glance at her, but she never turned to meet his gaze. She just kept staring out the window, watching the city she loved blur past, like if she memorized it enough now, she wouldn’t forget what it felt like with him here. Jake’s chest tightening with every mile that brought them closer to the departure gate. Neither of them spoke, because what was left to say?

viii. epilogue (the one with the happy ending)

Heeseung’s brother’s wedding was the kind that felt like it had been plucked straight from a dream. The venue was an elegant garden estate, sprawling and timeless, where nature and luxury blended seamlessly. Rows of white chairs lined a stone-paved aisle leading to a breathtaking floral arch, woven with ivory roses and soft greenery. As the sun dipped below the horizon, fairy lights draped across the trees flickered to life, casting everything in a golden glow. The atmosphere was nothing short of enchanting—warm, intimate, and brimming with quiet romance.

Inside the reception hall, deep forest green and champagne hues decorated the space, accented with gold detailing that shimmered under the glow of grand chandeliers. Long banquet tables were set with delicate floral arrangements, gold-rimmed plates, and flickering candle lit lanterns, making everything feel impossibly elegant. Laughter and clinking glasses filled the air as a live band played soft jazz in the background, transitioning into upbeat melodies as the night carried on. The dance floor, bathed in the warm light of hanging lanterns, was alive with movement- couples twirling, old friends reuniting, and guests celebrating love in all its forms. It was the kind of night that people would remember, not just for its beauty but for the way it made everyone feel—- ike they were part of something special.

In the middle of it all sat Jake, his hand clasped with Y/N’s, refusing to let her go. Around the couple sat the rest of Enhypen, chattering about where the newlywed’s honeymoon would be. They were all older now, busier, lives stretched across different places and paths, but sitting around the same table, drinks in hand, it felt the same. Heeseung was glowing with pride, still riding the high of his brother’s big day. Sunghoon had already teased him for getting emotional during the vows, and Jay was deep in conversation with Jungwon about how weddings always had the best food.

“So,” Sunghoon started, leaning forward with a grin. “Are we going to talk about how Jake actually managed to be in a long-distance relationship?”

“Do you guys really have such low expectations from me?” Jake snorted, bringing a rice cake to his mouth.

“I can’t lie, I'm surprised, too,” Y/N chuckled.

Jake stared at her, expressionless and feigned disappointment. “You’re supposed to be my girlfriend.”

“I love you, too.”

The pair would be lying if they said they weren’t surprised by themselves.

After Jake left, Y/N fell into a puddle of sadness that crashed into her like a wave, along with the tides of realization that her emotions would forever stay unrequited and unmatched. She would brood over her schedules and would drag herself around with a frown or heavy eyes. She no longer sat with enthusiasm while watching movies with her parents or playing with Layla. She no longer spoke with confidence during business meetings, mouthing her words like a programmed robot. And worst of all, she no longer liked online shopping with Diane.

It was painful watching the girl tut and sneer at things that would normally bring her joy- books, food, movies and even driving to the beach at night. Every night she would come home, she would mumble her greetings to anyone else in the house and go straight to bed. Sometimes she'd skip dinner, other times she'd skip breakfast and on days where her schedule was empty, she'd lay in bed all day, watching a show while not even bothering to shower.

It took two days for Sam to beat out a confession from Y/N, where he finally cried out a longing for Jake and their relationship- how everything so perfect suddenly was snatched out of her hand like a child with a stolen lollipop. She weeded and sobbed in Sam’s arms until her parents and his parents arrived in her room, confused at her disarray and begging for her to tell them what happened.

Sam finally explained it to them- how she and Jake had fallen in love, how they snuck around everyone for a few months dating and how him leaving for New York left Y/N shattered and empty. Upon hearing this, the parents had booked her a ticket to New York within a heartbeat. Before Y/N could even protest, yell at them for overreacting, tell them that she never wanted to see Jake’s face again- her bags were already packed.

Jake received an unexpected call from his brother while he was at dinner. Jay, who lived in Seattle, flew down to meet Jake for the weekend. They ate at a small restaurant that was famous for its brunch buffets. It was exactly when Jake was pouring syrup onto his pancakes that his phone rang.

“Y/N’s coming to New York,” Sam said. “Go get her.”

When Jay drove Jake to the airport, Jake finally understood why they said airports were both the place of the greatest happiness and greatest tragedy. For the most part in the past few years, Jake’s visits to the airport were filled with tragedy- disbanding from Enhypen, leaving Y/N and landing in New York for a job that costed him his favourite person. Now, he was visiting to experience what he hoped would be a miracle- that Sam’s call wasn’t just a prank and that he would see the woman of his dreams standing there, waiting for him.

Sure enough, when he arrived, he saw Y/N standing at a far corner, a look of daze and confusion as she gripped her suitcase. She looked around with glassy eyes, holding back tears in an unfamiliar environment. Then, she spotted Jake from afar as he waved at her, jumping at the sight of her. He wore his signature smile, the one that filled his face and brought out his teeth. Y/N let out a wet chuckle.

The pair ran towards each other and collided in the middle in an embrace. Jake, up until that moment, had never kissed her with that much desperation and aching.

After that, flying back and forth to visit each other had become a norm.

At Heeseung’s brother’s wedding, Sunoo asked the couple to recount their love story and he listened with heart eyes. Sunoo loved listening to people’s love stories- he had asked Heeseung to tell him about his brother’s a plethora of times by now.

“I’m so glad she’s stuck with me,” Jake grinned at her, squeezing her hand as she looked back at him.

Jungwon sighed dramatically. “Love is real, I guess.”

Heeseung groaned. “Please, not at my brother’s wedding.”

Laughter rang through the table, but even as the conversation moved on, Jake stared at Y/N, silently grateful for every moment that had led them here.

[rpwprpwprpwprw]

kim namjoon fanfics: recent readings recommendations 💌

thank you thank you thank you authors <3 love you guys 💌💗🫶🏻

namjoon masterlist

🌟 The holiday pretense by @mortallydeepestobservation (genre: fake-dating, friends to lovers/roommates to lovers au; crack, smut, fluff | ongoing)

summary: Namjoon has never been a fan of the holidays. In fact, he could list more things that sucked about ‘The most wonderful time of the year’, than things that brought him joy. Yet, beneath his cynicism, a flicker of hope appeared this year, as the faint scent of homesickness hung in the air. Unfortunately, there’s one tiny little thing that keeps him from calling home- his lack of a girlfriend. But fear not; this holiday season, Namjoon’s smart mouth gets him in a situation where he has no choice but to approach you- his longtime friend and roommate- with an unexpected request

my review

🌟 i need to touch you by @musicloverxoxo7 (genre: smut with a bit of plot | husband!joon x reader | completed)

summary: After a fight you and Namjoon haven’t spoken to each other in a day. You also haven’t allowed him to touch you. He’s had enough now.

my review

🌟bts halloween party - king and queen by @musicloverxoxo7 (genre: smut) | completed

summary: At the party, Namjoon makes you feel hot. He walks you home, thinking you are unwell. Will you take the chance and finally jump him?

🌟 we have time by @souryoong (genre: smut) | boyfriend!joon x reader | completed

summary: you and namjoon get in a quick fuck before Taehyung comes over.

🌟 heart got teeth by @100vern (genre: pwp; smut, angst, enemies to fwb to lovers (kinda) | completed

summary: the one where namjoon meets his match and isn’t quite sure how to handle you.

my review

🌟 The Boyfriend Experience by @shina913 | Genre: sex!work_AU; smut; PWP | Pairing: Escort!Namjoon x Fem!Reader | completed

summary: It felt very similar to an actual date, as if we’d come back to my place after a dating app meet-up – except the part about me slipping him cash in an envelope, of course. The intimacy happened naturally. He didn’t ask me for directions on how to turn me on, I just let him do his thing. 

🌟Empty Box by @moni-logues | Genre: angst, friends-to-almost-lovers? | completed

summary: No matter what you do, no matter what he does, you can't not love Namjoon. His girlfriend can't stop it, his baby, a thousand miles between you, your fiancé. Nothing makes it any less painful. Nothing makes it go away and nothing can give you the happily ever after you both want.

my review, my review, my review

🌟Take It Off by @jjungkookislife | pairing: namjoon x f. reader | prompt completed

prompt smut - 28 - "This is why I get off to you every night by myself."

prompt fluff - 30 - "Are those my clothes?"

🌟nice try, nerd by @jungshookz | librarian!namjoon | completed

my review

🌟out of reach by @liveyun | pairing. kim namjoon x gn ghost!reader | genre. paranormal, angst | completed

my review

🌟Falling for My Tutor by @hufflepuffwriter1995 | Tutor!Namjoon x Popular!Reader | completed

my review

🌟trivia love by @luxekook | pairing: kim namjoon x reader | genre: non-idol au with fluff and smut | completed

summary: in which the reader and namjoon become ridiculously attracted to each other over weekly late night trivia sessions

my review

🌟let’s be friends by @bangtanloverboys | pairing - frat boy/stoner!namjoon x party girl!reader | completed

summary: you’re cute, he’s cute; you’re both a bit bored, why don’t you make out with your new friend?

my review

🌟Dirty Thoughts: A Dirty Shorts Fic by @mytaegiheart | Prompt: “How am I supposed to concentrate when I am having the most unholy scenarios about you and me in my head?” | completed

summary: You and Namjoon have been married for 6 years, and to keep your relationship spicy, you like to send him naughty pics via text message that end up distracting him from working and causing him no end of embarrassment to his bandmates.

🌟Drabble by @champagneher | boyfriend!namjoon | completed

summary: YOUR BOYFRIEND KEEPS ASKING STRANGE EXISTENTIAL -OR WAY TOO DEEP FOR 1AM- QUESTIONS AND YOU JUST WANT TO SLEEP.

🌟Naked by @muniimyg | (new) established relationship | non-idol au | fluff, crack, and smut | completed

summary: in which nam joon takes any and every opportunity to see you naked

🌟 Ramen? by @solarwonux | pairing: college!Namjoon x f!reader | genre: 18+, smut, fluff, humor | completed

summary: He read all the signs wrong, but in his defense, according to Jungkook asking someone up for ramen is basically code for sex. Right? 

[gallusrostromegalus]

So, uhh, genuine question.

Do you recommend getting into Bleach, and if so how? Anime, Manga, a little bit of both, secret other thing? Your posts about it (and especially about AEIWAM) have definitely piqued my Interest, but I have pretty much 0 knowledge about the topic and heard very contradictory takes & reviews before, so I wanted to ask for your advice on the topic.

Cheers and have a nice day!

So a couple people have asked me this and I'm going to be as honest and fair about it as possible:

Bleach itself is mid.

...which is why the fan works KICK SO MUCH ASS.

My theory is that the ideal habitat for transformative fan work creators is mediocre series. It has to be good enough to be worth engaging with in the first place, but it's the plot holes and dropped developments and intriguing characters that don't get enough time and shoddy-to-unexplained worldbuilding that make nice little holes for fic authors and fan artists to crawl into and built a home, like sponges growing on a dilapidated subway car sunk into the Hudson river.

So yes. Bleach is mid. More under the cut:

It's also really two series: the manga and the anime. There's more anime than manga because bleach suffers from the late oughts horror known as "the filler arc" where the studio would make shit up while waiting for the author to catch up. Not ideal, but better than the current state of "cancelling a fully written five-season show after two because it wasn't making enough money for the oligarchy" but I digress.

To grade both the manga and anime on the Weeb-Ass-Shit scale:

Weeb: how familiar do you have to be with the tropes of anime/Japanese culture in general to be able to enjoy the series? This is one of the things Bleach does REALLY, REALLY WELL, in that you can go in knowing fuck-all about anime and have a good time, but the more you know, the more fun it is. My favorite thing Kubo does is that if you look up the meaning of the characters used in everyone's names, there is a TON of jokes, foreshadowing, themes etc. baked into every name. A+ work.

Ass: how much gratuitous fan service is there and how annoying is it? So. It's not the worst. But it's really, really obvious that Bleach is written and illustrated by a straight man who is hella into tiddies. As a bisexual, I can appreciate The Tiddy (and tbh, the men in Bleach have pretty great tits too), but there are a lot of humor bits about Kon being a perv/author stand-in, orihime has medically alarming knockers for a teenager and gets groped kind of a lot. There's also a predatory lesbian stereotype character in the early episodes, and some pretty awful transphobic caricature characters. The amount of horny isn't that much for a shonen, but it's pretty gross IMHO.

Shit: how well- made is this series?

Mixed. Both the manga and the anime (esp the recent Thousand Year Blood War arc) have some absolutely gorgeous art, banger character designs, and deeply entertainingly choreographed fights. It is really nice to look at.

Unfortunately, both also suffer really badly from pacing issues that are pretty much entirely the fault of the insane demands the industry puts on the artists. If you've ever read/seen a shonen manga/anime from the late aughts through early teens, you're familiar with this bullshit- fight scenes drawn out to absurd lengths, filler arcs while the animation studio waits for the author to catch up, repeated plot arcs, minimal focus on characterization, The Friendship Speech (TM) etc.

Pacing and repetitiveness are Bleach's main quality issues, but the art is pretty baller and the Japanese voice cast is pretty fucking great IMHO. (I have APD and have to consume shows by subtitles, so the sun is usually more legible for me than the dub).

If you are coming into Bleach from AEIWAM... You're likely to be a bit disappointed. I put a shitload of work into the worldbuilding because Bleach does not, I write almost exclusively slice-of-life character moments rather than big battles, and I have made some pretty fucking radical changes to some of the characters. An Elephant Is Warm And Mushy is an entirely different genre than Bleach, and that's ok, because fic usually is radically different than it's source material. But also be prepared.

TL;DR: Bleach is mid and that's ok! My fic is different than it and that is also ok! I still recommend it with the reservations of : it's prototypical of its time period and contains many of the gross tropes from that era. It is also very much a horror shonen, just to be clear. Fucked up shit happens on screen, mostly cannibalism! Which is great IMHO, but you should probably take a stroll through DoesTheDogDie.com for more specific trigger warnings before beginning.

[redroses07]

Unexpected Consequence // Sam Golbach

W/C: 2.1k

Pairing: Sam Golbach x Fem!Reader, Colby Brock x Fem!Reader (platonic)

Summary: Reader moves in with Sam and Colby, but she notices a change in her and Sam's friendship. What happens when Colby is gone and they're left alone with their feelings?

Warnings: Smut! 18+ minors dni, unprotected PinV sex, soft smut (Sam is a sweetie I love him), fingering, swearing, mentions of food, use of Y/N like once, making out, kissing

A/N: Hey, hey! I don't know what compelled me to write this but I really like it! Let me know if y'all would like more Sam fics in the future. Reqs are always open too! Love you guys and enjoy!

Moving had shifted the trajectory of your life, but not in the way one would expect. Your roommate had decided to move across the country, and you could no longer afford rent on your own so you chose to move in with your best friends.

You had been friends with Sam for around 8 years, and of course, you met Colby through him. The three of you hung out often, and you were a frequent guest in their videos. You were certainly a fan favorite as well. If you disappeared for too long the comments would be overrun with "Where's Y/N?", and "Is Y/N gonna be in the next video?". The boys always joked that they should rename the channel "Sam, Colby, and Y/N".

Even though you were close with both, you remained closest to Sam. You had always thought it was because you had known him longer, but recently, you began to notice a deeper connection.

Living with him, the constant closeness had caused suppressed feelings to surface. Just last night, you walked into the living room to get a snack wearing your PJ shorts and a tank top. Was it a revealing outfit? yes. Had you known these two for nearly half your life? also yes.

You didn't notice a thing until you caught Sam's icy blue eyes fixated on you like you were some sort of anomaly. Even Colby pointing it out, saying "God Sam, stop staring her down like she's your next meal."

Your face turned red and you brushed it off, just as you had brushed off all of the other strange instances. For one, Sam was always in your room. Not that you minded. You liked having him around, but Colby wasn't around you nearly as much.

Sam would walk in unannounced, sit next to you, and ask what you were doing. Looking at you with the same affectionate expression each and every time. He would sometimes even go as far as to rest his head on your shoulder. Yet again, not that you minded.

You couldn't lie and say you had never had feelings for Sam. Never extreme of course. You had both been in relationships since becoming friends, and neither of you had a problem with it. Yet, he was always in the back of your mind. Sam had treated you better than any boy you had ever dated.

It had been about a month since you had moved in, and the three of you had begun to settle into a routine. This weekend, however, was different. Colby was out of the house visiting family, leaving you and Sam the only two in the house.

It was around 6pm and you were starting to get hungry. You found Sam seated on the couch in his hoodie and sweatpants, scrolling through his phone. You slid over the side of the couch, propping yourself up on Sam's side.

"I'm hungry" you let out a sigh.

Sam laughed and turned off his phone.

"I'll cook us something, what do you want?" Sam smiled, looking down at you.

"Hmm, how about salmon and rice?" You suggested something simple that you knew you had the ingredients for.

"Good idea," Sam replied.

"Is there anything you want me to help with?" You asked.

"Nope, I've got this, you just sit right here," To your surprise, Sam gave you a quick peck on the cheek before getting up and heading into the kitchen.

You said nothing of it and turned on the TV while waiting for dinner.

As you waited, you continued to review the past month in your head. Sam had never been averted to physical touch but had been far more touchy with you recently.

Whether it was subtle, like sitting closer to you and letting your arms touch, or more obvious, such as placing his hand on top of yours. it didn't take you long to admit to yourself that you liked the change.

"Dinner's ready!" You heard, only now realizing how long you had been lost in your thoughts.

You made your way into the kitchen, finding Sam holding two plates of food while wearing an apron.

You giggled.

"What?" Sam smiled, fighting the blush on his cheeks.

"Are you wearing an apron?" You snickered.

"You don't like it?" Sam questioned.

"No, I think it's adorable."

Sam smiled, setting the plates of food on the small table before removing his apron.

He sat down and you began to enjoy your dinner, talking while you ate.

Sam threw his head back, laughing, and instantly thought of how much you loved him. You kept your wide-eyed gaze glued to him, smiling so wide that your cheeks began to hurt.

Sam returned the favor, his laughter ending and his gaze softening.

"You have the sweetest smile of anyone I know." He said.

You blushed, looking down at your now empty plate.

"I'll go ahead and clean up." You said, grabbing his plate and yours.

You set the plates in the dishwasher and wiped off the counters. You worked in silence, for once you were unable to think of anything to say. You weren't the best with feelings, neither of you were. Yet, of course, Sam knew you well enough to tell that something was up.

"What's wrong?" He asked you.

You said nothing, only walking back into the living room. Sam followed closely behind you.

"I'm alright." You said simply, hoping he would drop it.

He didn't.

"Well something's going on, you're never this quiet."

He sat next to you on the couch, still looking at you with those stupid eyes. You built up the courage to look at him, fearing how you may act when you did. Sam's pink lips were slightly upturned. His furrowed brows caused a wrinkle to appear between them. His face painted the perfect picture of comfort.

Yet, you still struggled to find the words. What if he didn't feel the same? What if your friendship never recovered? In fact, that was likely what had held you back in the past.

God you wanted to kiss him.

Sam ran his thumb over your cheek, then your lips. Every nerve in your body seemed to light up with his touch.

Fuck.

"Sam..." You mumbled.

"Yeah?" His voice was soft and deep, and the way he slowly grew closer to you didn't go unnoticed.

He placed a singular kiss on both of your cheeks, and you let out a burdened sigh. You felt the urge to pull away but fought against it. Sam's familiar smell filled your nostrils, it was more overwhelming than usual.

Sam's hand crept under your chin, tilting it to face him. After what felt like a lifetime, your lips met. Every part of your body exploded. You had been struck with invisible lightning.

Your lips on his was like nothing you had ever felt before. Something mysterious you had craved for so long. Now that you finally had it, you wanted more.

You pressed yourself against Sam's chest, wanting to be as close to him as possible. You ran your fingers through Sam's soft blonde hair, earning a blissful sigh from his lips. Liking the sweet sound, you tugged on his hair lightly, causing the deep sighs to turn into soft moans.

"You're so beautiful you know that right?" Sam's words slurred as he began to drag his lips across your skin.

"Sam, I want this, believe me, I do..."

He stopped, his expression ridden with concern.

"What? Is something wrong?" He placed his warm palm over your chilly fingers.

"No...it's nothing you did, I just don't want to fuck this up." You expressed your fear which had been holding you back for so long. It felt good to finally get it off your chest.

"Listen," Sam brought your hands to his heart.

"I can't imagine life without you, so even if this doesn't work out I believe we will always be in each other's lives."

"And besides, we'll never know if we don't try."

You smiled and took a moment to hug him, a reminder of the good friend you will always have. He held you a little extra tight, as if to say 'I'm not going anywhere.'

You kissed his neck, trailing sweet kisses across his collarbone, jaw, and eventually his lips. You engaged in your second passionate kiss of the evening. Lips tangling together, he slowly pushed you back. You fell against the couch, admiring Sam's figure above you.

Sam reached his hands under your shirt, the skin-on-skin contact making you gasp.

"Is this okay?" He said softly.

You nodded in response.

He lifted your shirt and pulled it over your head before discarding his own. You couldn't help but stare at his biceps as if you had never seen him shirtless before.

Sam smirked.

"Like what you see?"

You rolled your eyes.

"Maybe a little." Before he could respond you pressed your lips together once more.

His hands began to touch every inch of your skin, a feeling so foreign yet somehow familiar.

You began to notice an ache between your legs when you felt his length brush against your thighs.

"Sam, need you." You moaned shamelessly.

"Yeah?" He breathed as his fingers began to trail down your torso. Inch by inch they headed towards the spot that so desperately needed his touch.

His fingers crept into your waistband and into your panties. You whined when he began to rub circles around your clit. The sudden stimulation made your stomach flutter with anticipation. Sam stuck one, then two fingers in your folds and you couldn't help but buck your hips.

"Someone likes that." He said playfully.

You were shocked by how easily he could hit just the right spots that made you squirm. Yet somehow, you still craved more.

"Want you-" You said between moans.

'Speak up pretty, I can't hear you." Sam brushed your sweaty bangs out of your eyes, giving you a clear view of his soft eyes and puffy lips.

"Want you inside of me." You managed to string the sentence together.

Before you knew it your shorts and panties were gone, as well as the rest of Sam's clothes.

He was bigger than you expected, not that you were upset about that. His dick was unbelievably hard, already leaking pre-cum. Sam positioned his hand under your thighs, allowing for easier access.

"Ready?" he asked, double-checking that you were comfortable.

"Mhm."

He filled you up perfectly and began to pump himself into you. The sounds of both of your pleasurable moans filled the room. He held eye contact with you while pounding into you, only increasing the intimacy of the moment.

You dug your nails into his back, surely leaving marks that would last for a while. Sam leaned down and gave you a sloppy, desperate kiss that consisted mostly of teeth and tongue.

"Fuck I'm close," Sam muttered.

You noticed the sweat that began to bead on his forehead.

Sam whispered your name as if it was a prayer and that was enough to set you over the edge. Your walls clenched around him and you cried out in ecstasy. Moments later you felt a warm liquid coating your insides and you let out a tired sigh, still feeling remnants of pleasure.

"God Sam, you sure know how to make a girl feel good."

He burst into laughter, the noise causing his whole body to vibrate.

"Let's go get cleaned up and then we'll get ready for bed, yeah?" Sam said before pressing a chaste kiss to your lips.

You smiled in agreement.

"I'll go start a bath, I'll come get you when it's ready," Sam said gently.

You kissed him, a longer kiss filled with love. You lingered on his lips momentarily, not wanting him to leave even shortly. His hand trailed down your arm as he exited, eventually letting it drop to your side.

"I love you" He called as he headed down the hall.

"Love you more," You replied.

You fought a giddy smile as if he was nothing but a boy you had a crush on. Thankfully, he was so much more. A partner in more ways than one, and you were beyond happy to have him by your side.

Moving had sprung something unexpected on you, a welcome surprise nonetheless.

[elizabethminkel]

hi i read your article on fanfiction culture changing and it reminded me of a comment i got on a fic in 2023. (i was going to say this year/recently but then i checked and wow time moves fast) it was phrased like i wasn't ever going to see it. which is weird bc there were only 2 other comments both of which i'd responded to. it was written almost to an audience that did not include me. idk what that says about the "culture" but i enjoyed your article!

Aw <3 thank you so much! (If anyone hasn't read it yet, this is in reference to "The Endless Appetite for Fanfiction.")

That's super interesting, and definitely relates to this broader ~thing~ imo. My first thought is about the (significant?) rise in people putting fic reviews on Goodreads. That's definitely part of the overall context collapse—and deeply annoys me!!—but it does make me think about the concrit conversation, and how fandom post-LJ has largely shut down critical discussion of fic, which was not a rarity back in the day. (I'm not opening that can of worms now lol.) Like, I have sympathy for the Discord fic book clubs, because you should be allowed to say whatever you want about a fic in private! But I feel like that needs to be just one component, especially if you have a lot of positive things to say about a work.

Funnily, I got a comment somewhat recently that felt, at least in one bit, like it was addressed more to the world than to me. It was a really nice comment! But I showed it to a friend in my confusion (and then just replied like it hadn't struck me as odd). I've also received comments in the last few years on older stories in which the commenter acts like I've long departed from my fandom—when I've published new works as recently as a few weeks prior, and post on my (linked from my AO3 profile) tumblr daily. Which seems related, too—like, me, the fan, is still right there, very easy to see?

I do think there's something to be said about depersonalization across social media, and the way people collapse "content creators" with their "content" (to be clear, I'm not calling fic writers or fic either of these things, but part of this whole situation is that a lot of readers are thinking of them that way). Like, the creator economy is structured to encourage people do that, even. And of course there's great commentary here on tumblr dot com and elsewhere about how people talk to strangers in ways they'd never dare to in real life. I mean, the digital disconnect led to plenty of...issues...back in the day, even when fandom and fanfic weren't as bifurcated as right now.

Anyway, I think this is all swirling together...and like, it's not great! (Haha this is like how I ended the article. "This sucks! ¯\_(ツ)_/¯") But thanks again for your message—this topic has so many interesting, if depressing, facets!!

[burntheedges]

Pas de Deux Chapter 1

Din Djarin x f!reader | 2.9k | fic masterlist | main masterlist | ao3

fic summary: When Din Djarin – principal dancer at Concordia Ballet Company and generational talent in the classical style – suddenly left CBC and joined the Nevarro Ballet Theater mid-season, it shocked the ballet world. You never would have guessed that he would change your life, too.

a/n: here we go! Chapter 1 starts sometime in late fall, November-ish. See my notes on the masterlist about reader in this fic and ballet in general. Thank you @katareyoudrilling for being the best beta, as always!!

chapter tags/warnings: gen, ballet terms (see end notes and the masterlist for definitions), a bit of angst

Chapter 1

“‘In a surprise move that shook the dance world, the Concordia Ballet Company announced yesterday that they have parted ways with principal dancer Din Djarin.’”

You could hear the sudden gasps through the open door of the large studio as you walked towards it. You recognized Clara’s voice as she read the news aloud, you assumed from her phone. 

“‘Djarin, 27, who trained at the rigorous Concordia Ballet School from a young age, has been with CBC for 10 years and is in the prime of his career. He was promoted from soloist to principal two years ago, as is the norm at CBC, where they do not promote dancers younger than 25 to principal. His performances have been highlights on the CBC schedule over the last two seasons, earning many rave reviews.’” 

You turned the corner to enter the studio and found most of the company class crowded around Clara as she looked down at her phone.

“‘The CBC press release did not indicate the reason for the split, which only makes this mid-season decision more disconcerting for fans and donors alike.’”

The group around Clara murmured and shifted their weight. You had just read the article on the bus and knew what was coming next. You slid down to sit against the wall by the door, watching.

“‘This decision comes amidst the company’s preparation for spring and for the last show on their fall schedule, Don Quixote, with no explanation as to how their roster of principals and other dancers may be adjusted to compensate for this enormous loss. Djarin is well known for his powerful physique, technical mastery, and classically perfect performances.’” Clara paused, and then continued, “then it talks about some of his work, we know all of that already, blah blah blah, ok whoa!” She gasped. “Ok. Listen to this – ‘Djarin has not been available for comment, but was seen boarding a flight to Nevarro two days ago before the announcement was made public!'”

You started to put on your shoes for barre and watched as everyone else in the room started to completely freak out.

“Here?!” Owen exclaimed, hand thrown over his mouth. “Is he coming here here?” He gestured around the studio as he asked.

Clara shrugged. “It doesn’t say, look, that’s the end of the article.”

Sophie had started rising up and down on the balls of her feet by one of the barres and you weren’t sure if she was aware she was doing it. Her tone was excited as she asked, “would he come here? Why? We’re, like, not his style.”

The room broke down into several noisy conversations at that point, and you felt your friend Adrian slip down the wall to sit next to you. “So, what do you think?” he asked, nudging your shoulder. 

You shrugged. “No idea. I can’t see any reason he’d even want to come here. CBC is so…” You trailed off, but he knew what you meant.

“Yeah. Traditional. Rigid. Not like us at all.” Adrian waved his hand towards the mismatched group of dancers in front of you and you both smiled. The Nevarro Ballet Theater was different from the Concordia Ballet Company in many ways, and the diversity of dancers in the company was one of the things that set NBT apart the most.

You nodded. “Right. If his flight destination even means anything.”

“If it does, what would that mean for us?” Adrian looked around the room. “We already have a full roster of soloists and principals.” He bit his lip. He looked nervous, and he wasn’t the only one — you noticed Sasha, Lu, Carlos, and Isaac were huddled around the bar, clearly worried. All principals, you assumed they were nervous about losing out on parts. For Adrian, you knew it was because he had just made soloist at the start of the season. A new superstar coming in might shake things up too much.

You nudged his shoulder with your own. “I was thinking about that when I read it on the bus. I don’t think you have anything to worry about. I heard what Karga said, about how good you are.”

He nodded, but didn’t look reassured. “At least you don’t have anything to worry about, Ms. Soon-To-Be-Principal.” 

You rolled your eyes and shoved down the anxiety lurking in your stomach. You’d made soloist a couple of years ago, and then first soloist this season. There were some people (including Adrian) who seemed to think you’d be promoted soon, as early as the end of the current season. But there were at least a few critics who disagreed, and for months you’d been having trouble putting the words of one in particular out of your mind. You could quote it from memory:

“While her lyricism and skill are undeniable, one wonders if she has the artistry or stage presence to carry a narrative. She more than deserves the promotion to first soloist, but is this her ceiling?” 

You wished you’d never read the article, but it had seemed to be the usual season preview and you hadn’t been expecting the targeted commentary. You’d spent the last few months trying not to think about it too much, or you knew you would get all in your head about it.

“Shut up.” You nudged him again and he laughed.

He opened his mouth to respond, but he was interrupted by the door opening next to you. It wasn’t your teacher who walked in, though, and once you saw who it was you both leapt to your feet.

Greef Karga, director of the Nevarro Ballet Theater, looked happy, but then he usually did. 

“Good morning, dancers!’ His voice was deep and loud and you all scrambled into a semi-circle facing him at the door, where your ballet instructor, Alexa, followed him in. You chorused a “good morning” in response.

“I’m sure you’ve all seen the news,” Karga continued, with a knowing smile on his face. “And you must be wondering why I’m here!” You glanced in the mirror and noted that everyone did indeed look both curious and a little wary. “Well, I am very pleased to confirm that Din Djarin will be joining us for the rest of the season here at NBT.”

There was some general murmuring and shock in response, but he was not deterred.

“I know we’re in the middle of the season, with many roles already planned. Din and I have agreed to try not to disrupt that too much this year. We’ll be adding some things to the anniversary gala and the mixed programs.” That made sense — the latter were showcases of the work of different composers and choreographers and could be more easily rearranged to include a new dancer. “We won’t be making any changes to Midsummer, Swan Lake, or Cinderella, which I know we’re already planning for and rehearsing.” You felt Adrian take a deep, relieved breath beside you. He was supposed to be Puck this year for the first time and it sounded like that wasn’t going to change. 

“Din will start joining your classes and the rehearsals for the gala and other programs over the course of the next two weeks. Please introduce yourself and welcome him — we are very excited to have him join us.”

You all nodded, of course, even though you knew a lot of your fellow dancers would be wary of the newcomer. 

“Well!” Karga clapped his hands together and smiled. “I’ll let you get started. Continue with your rehearsals as normal unless you hear otherwise. Have a wonderful day, everyone!”

Alexa moved towards the stereo system in the corner as Karga swept out of the room, and you turned to look at Adrian. 

“Well,” he said, turning towards his usual place at the barre. “This should be interesting.”

You nodded as Alexa turned on the music and you took your usual spot next to him at the barre. It definitely would be.

…

After all that excitement, you didn’t even see Djarin for a few days. He didn’t join the morning company classes right away, but you couldn’t really blame him — moving suddenly across the country wasn’t easy. It didn’t stop you from glancing around every room as you entered, trying to catch sight of your elusive new company member. 

You heard from the others that he’d dropped by a couple of rehearsals, and they’d overheard him talking about plans for the mixed programs with some of the choreographers and other staff, including Talia and Jee. You wondered if he’d ever met Kuiil, the current guest choreographer in residence, who traveled and usually worked with different companies every few years. You somehow doubted it — Kuiil’s style was much too contemporary for CBC.

You’d been in rehearsals for Nutcracker and Midsummer all week, though, so you weren’t really surprised that you hadn’t run into him yet. 

Finally, on Friday morning, you arrived early for class to find a group of your fellow company members huddled by the mirror and staring awkwardly across the room. You followed their gaze and found Din Djarin, in the flesh, warming up at the barre. For a moment you couldn’t reconcile the sight of him in your familiar space. He was tall and imposing, and dressed all in black — black ballet shoes, black tights, black sweats that cut off below his knees, and a tight black long sleeve shirt that showcased the breadth of his shoulders and just how strong he was. His curly brown hair was tousled. His signature mustache, somewhat uncommon in ballet, was in place, though you knew he often shaved for performances — there had been articles about his daring breach of the Concordia status quo when he didn’t. At least at NBT he’d be allowed to keep it, you thought. His face was blank, completely expressionless as he stretched. 

You knew he had to know the rest of the group was watching him, and when you glanced back and found them still huddled you sighed. You felt someone step into the room behind you and turned to find Adrian taking in the standoff. 

He shook his head. “Great start.” His tone was dry, and you laughed under your breath. 

“Should we say hello?” You sat to put on your ballet shoes and Adrian sank down beside you.

“Who, us?” Adrian raised an eyebrow at you. “Do I look brave to you?” 

You laughed again, and were about to suggest going together for moral support when Alexa walked in. She took in the situation and sighed, shaking her head as she crossed the room to where Djarin was still warming up alone.

“Look! Alexa took care of it.” Adrian nudged you and smiled. “No need for us to take one for the team after all.”

The two of you watched as she spoke with him, though you couldn’t hear what they were saying. He nodded at her, and she smiled before walking towards the stereo.

“Alright, let’s get started!” She called out without looking to see if anyone listened, but you all did. You realized as you took your normal spot that you were diagonal from Djarin across the space between two of the barres in the middle of the floor. You’d be able to see him whenever you were working your left side, and somewhat in the mirror on your right. You resolved not to stare.

You only sort of succeeded.

The problem, you quickly realized, was that his movements were beautiful. Even while doing simple pliés or tendus you could see the power in his body, the strength in his muscles, the rigor of his training. Every movement was precise, clean, and perfectly placed. The elegant line of his arm and the curve of his hip drew your gaze like a magnet, over and over again. His effortless coordination and control were mesmerizing. You watched the slow extension of his leg into grand battement until you had to force yourself to tear your eyes away.

Well, you thought, he certainly lives up to all of the hype about technique. CBC had a reputation and he more than exceeded it.

It made you painfully aware of the limits of your own abilities. You knew you were good – you’d made it this far, of course, and now you were first soloist, despite having what was seen as a late start in ballet (at age 7). And despite what the critics said, you were considered to be one of the better technicians at NBT. But you were no match for his level of skill, for the rigorous training you’d heard about at CBC. That much was obvious just from looking at him. 

You tried to clear your mind as the class continued, knowing your worries would start to show in your movements if you let them. It was hard to do that when so much strength and technical perfection stood only five feet away from you, demonstrating the ideal version of every move and transition that you attempted.

As you finished at the barre and quickly put on your pointe shoes to work in the center of the room, you finally put it out of your mind. There was no use in comparison, you’d learned that a long time ago. In the end, the only dancer you could compete with was yourself. And NBT was not a company that encouraged that kind of competition among dancers anyway.

You found your feet going across the floor, letting yourself sink into it as you moved through some jumps and short combinations. You tried to feel nothing but the pull in your muscles and pattern of your breath. By the end of the class you felt a little steadier, a little more centered.

Alexa dismissed the class, and you started to gather your things. As you slipped off your pointe shoes, you felt someone brush past you, heading for the door — Djarin didn’t look back as he crossed the threshold into the hall. You realized as he did that he hadn’t spoken a single word for the entire class. You wondered if he was unhappy to be here, after all. 

By the time you stepped into the hallway, he was nowhere to be seen.

Adrian fell into step next to you as you walked towards the larger rehearsal studios at the other end of the building. He hooked your arms together and looked around quickly to see if anyone was nearby. He leaned in to whisper, “did you see that? He was amazing!”

You nodded. “I know. I didn’t think anyone could live up to all that hype, but he does.”

Adrian shook his head, looking dismayed. “I know they said some roles wouldn’t change but, ugh. I wouldn’t blame them.”

“Hey,” you elbowed him lightly. “Don’t. You’re going to be amazing as Puck. And you know that role plays to your strengths. I don’t see him taking that one from you. It’s not really his style.”

He sighed. “Yeah, I guess. Ok, let’s hurry, I need to tape my knee before Nutcracker.” You winced in sympathy, knowing how much he’d be jumping in practice for both the Russian dance and the jack-in-the-box roles. But his words jogged your memory.

“Shit.” You froze in the hallway. “I left my tape in the studio. Go ahead, I’ll meet you there.”

He nodded, but you were already turning as you said it, waving him on.

You heard him jog off towards the rehearsal rooms behind you as you walked quickly back the way you’d come, turning past the bathrooms and the administrative offices. It didn’t take long and your tape was right where you’d left it. 

Tape in hand, you turned around again and started walking back down the long hall. 

As you approached the offices, though, the sound of Karga’s raised voice stopped you in your tracks, just around the corner from his office door.

“We talked about this, Din. It's part of this company’s identity. You want to break away from them? You need to make a statement.” You heard the slapping sound of one hand against another and imagined Karga hitting his hand with his fist for emphasis. 

“No, Greef, listen. I don’t—“ You startled. It was the first time you’d heard Djarin’s voice and it was much deeper and more pleasant than you would have imagined. 

Karga interrupted him. “No, you listen. Din, you can do this. I know you can. And it will show them everything they’re missing, everything they let slip through their fingers. They are so stuck in their ways, they have no idea what you can really do. What you’re capable of. Let me help you get there.”

You heard Djarin sigh. “This will go badly and I’m going to blame you.”

Karga chuckled. You tried to picture Djarin looking amused, too, and failed. All you could conjure was the expressionless mask he’d kept in place for all of class that morning. Karga continued, “I’ll take it happily. This is going to be great, don’t you worry! We’ll ease you into it. Now, let’s go share the news.”

You heard them start to move around in the office and startled into motion. As you turned the corner, the door to Karga’s office swung open in front of you and Din Djarin stepped out of it. He was moving quickly, shoulders hunched, brow furrowed. He barely glanced in your direction, but when he did, you took a surprised step back at the fierceness of his glare. It was the most emotion you’d seen from him so far, and it wasn’t exactly pleasant. He didn’t stop, though, and quickly turned away from you to move down the hall towards rehearsal. You blinked, frozen mid-step, unable to shake the look he’d just given you. What was that about?

...

| next

a/n: sooo what do you think? ballet terms in this chapter:

see the masterlist for principal, soloist, class vs. rehearsal, season

plié - a bending of the needs (you've probably seen dancers standing at the barre and bending their knees -- that's a plié)

tendu - tight or stretched out - stretching one leg out long, often in brushes along the floor

grand battement - the leg is raised from the hip into the air and brought down again, both knees straight (with apparent ease)

barre - the rail that ballet dancers use in class (don't lean on it!). usually you'd wear normal ballet shoes at the barre and switch into pointe shoes (toe shoes) to do exercises in the center or go across the floor

and if you'd like a visual aid, one of the dancers I'm mentally modeling Din after is Carlos Acosta, who you can see in this compilation (~6:49) doing a variation from Don Quixote.

tag list coming in a reblog!

[beautifulterriblequeen]

S7 is coming - what next?

After December 19, the TDP that we have expected to receive will be complete: seven seasons, as ordered by Netflix. So what can the TDP fandom do with our time after that?

Obviously, we want arc 3! So, what can we do about that?

TELL NETFLIX

Request TDP Seasons 8-10 via the Netflix online title request form. You don't need an account to use this feature, and you can use it more than once.

KEEP ACTIVE IN FANDOM

Stay in touch with other fans and mutuals, chat in the official discord, reblog fanmade treats of all kinds, record watch videos and reviews, and be a part of our healthy fandom.

HASHTAGS

#give us the saga, #continue the saga, #the dragon prince, #netflix are your friends! Use the tags on your tdp posts!

FANMADE CONTENT

write fics!

draw art!

create or participate in fan events!

make amvs for your fave characters/ships!

write theory posts!

make memes and gifsets!

collate playlists!

do rewatch parties!

And if you know an actual kid, see if they want to watch it with you - we all have a formative show that shaped us. Maybe TDP will be theirs!

Be patient!

TDP's arc 2 wasn't greenlit by Netflix until about 8 months after S3 dropped, and we didn't get S4 for two years after that. We shouldn't count on instant results or feel let down by a lack of news. Let the groundswell build!

[fandom]

Top 23 of 2023

Have you been aching to get your hot little hands on 52 weeks of data around original posts, likes, reblogs, and searches, all weighted and ranked and tied up into categories with a nice little bow on top? Well, today’s your day! It should come as no surprise that Artists on Tumblr reign supreme: from stunning traditional art, jaw-dropping digital art, fanart, sculptures, textile art—you name it, basically—this year’s list shows that Tumblr truly is the home for art and artists. Thank you, Artists on Tumblr, for enriching our dashboards day after day. 

Rounding out the top three, we have two iconic shows: Good Omens is live-action, and The Owl House is animated, but both have a heck of a love story at their core. The second season of Good Omens blessed us with not one but two ineffably exquisite ships, while the final season of The Owl House broke and then healed fans’ hearts in equal measure. Thanks, @danaterrace! Actually, come to think of it, the Good Omens finale kinda did the same in reverse. Thanks to you, too, @neil-gaiman! We can’t wait for season 3. 

Speaking of heartbreak and healing, Our Flag Means Death’s second season offered both in droves. The entire cast gave stellar performances, and fans couldn’t have been happier to see the kinds of representation the show displayed. Last year’s #1 topic, Stranger Things, may have dropped a bit, but trust us, you wouldn’t know it from the amount of meta, fanart, and fics in the tag. And did you hear about the live-action adaptations of both The Last of Us and One Piece? They were a preeeetty big deal this year, too. Check ‘em out if you haven’t yet (lol, of course you have). And we’d be remiss not to mention the hugely dedicated fans, fanartists, and fic writers devoting their time to all things Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. Y’all deserve a little pizza, as a treat.

2023 was also a year for blockbuster movies, which of course hasn’t escaped anybody’s notice here on Tumblr. Barbie smashed box offices worldwide and left us reeling with every re-watch. How can one describe Greta Gerwig’s pink-filled opus? It certainly is one of the movies of all time. Meanwhile, with its incredible animation and soundtrack, Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse introduced us to a whole new multiverse of Spider-People, opening the portal to a veritable flood of incredible OCs. And then, of course, we got a fresh perspective on an old classic when cinephiles introduced Martin Scorscese’s cinematic masterpiece, Goncharov (1973), to a new generation of film aficionados who resoundingly agree that it is, in fact, the greatest mafia movie ever made. We’re so glad this underrated film finally got the acclaim it has long deserved.

In the realms of gaming and tech, the long-anticipated Baldur’s Gate 3 has basically become everyone’s new favorite D&D/dating sim combination. Of course, the Pokémon franchise, games, shows, and Hatsune Miku collabs remain perennial favorites. Elon Musk’s purchase of Twitter, sorry, we mean of course X, made waves across the internet. Similarly, the Reddit blackout drove Redditors to new venues, and Tumblr users welcomed the folks from r/196 with open arms—we’re huge fans of your memes, y’all, and you fit right in. Welcome, we’re glad you enjoy the chaos. Here’s a fun fact: if we included post metadata in Year in Review rankings, #polls, introduced in January of 2023, would have been the #5 topic on Tumblr this year. Phenomenal. 

And, oh right. Taylor Swift had kind of a big year, what with the albums, the epic global tour, and the movie and stuff. Fantastic work, @taylorswift, the Swifties on Tumblr thank you for everything.

This is Tumblr’s Year in Review.

Artists on Tumblr

Good Omens

The Owl House

Barbie

Pokémon

Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse

Critical Role

Goncharov

Taylor Swift

Genshin Impact

Stranger Things

The Last of Us

Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles

Elon Musk

196

Star Wars

Our Flag Means Death

Crowley | Good Omens

LGBTQ

Cottagecore

Baldur's Gate 3

One Piece

Aziraphale | Good Omens

[justagalwhowrites]

The Savage and the Sanctuary - Ch. 1: Wrong Foot

Joel takes on a new contract as a bodyguard. A continuation of The Savage and the Sanctuary, a no outbreak TLOU story, from the prologue found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

CW: Non-consensual groping (not by Joel.) Mention of grief and child loss. No use of Y/N. Whole fic will be explicit so minors DNI, 18+ only.

Length: 7.1k

Fic Masterlist | Masterlist | AO3 | Prologue | Next Chapter

Two years later - September 2024

“You really want me for this one?” he asked as he rode up the elevator at the nicest hotel in Austin. Even after two years protecting wealthy assholes, Joel wasn’t used to shit like this. The fast elevators and the plush carpets and the trappings of wealth that provided everything his charges needed. Everything, it seemed, except safety. 

For that, they needed him. 

Protecting people, as it happened, was something Joel was good at. It almost surprised him how good he was at it. It forced him to be aware of what was happening around him for a change instead of just moving through the world like a ghost. It took that awareness for him to even realize just how dead he’d been in the years since the death of his daughter.

Usually, things went fine. Most often, he was shepherding tech or oil executives with inflated egos from business meeting to business meeting while they were in town and looking the other way when they cheated on their wives or put half his salary up their noses. Nothing ever happened with those assholes. 

Occasionally, though, his job got interesting. Rabid fans tried to mob some pop star Joel had never heard of at a club on 6th Street once and he had to carry her out, forcing his way through the crowd before she got crushed. Then there was the supermodel who was posing for photos with fans when one little college-aged fucker thought it would be smart to grab her ass to cop a feel. Joel took a little too much pleasure in punching him so hard that he fell to the floor, knocked clean out. The football player had been the biggest trouble, though. Some hotshot asshole who’d just won the Super Bowl coming back to his college town to party. He picked a fight with the wrong drug dealer and damn near got shot for it, Joel whisking him away and getting winged in the shoulder by the bullet for his trouble. 

He didn’t want to admit, even to himself, that he liked when the work got dicey. Being shot at was the closest to alive Joel has felt in years. Getting to lay out some asshole without the cops trying to arrest him for it had been the highlight of his month. It made him very good at his job and he liked that, both things that surprised him. 

“You’re my best guy,” Tommy said. “You’ve seen more action on this job than almost any of the other guards and they want someone with a good history. Plus you don’t give a shit about… higher profile clientele. I can’t put fuckin’ James on a job with someone he knows, he’ll fan boy over ‘em. Remember when that one band came through?” 

“Jesus,” Joel groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. It had been an easy job but it was one that he’d had to do most of the work on, James practically giddy the entire time. “Yeah, you’re right. So, what, this some pop star or somethin’?” 

“Not sure,” Tommy said. “They’ve been playin’ it real close to the chest, won’t ID ‘em until we sign an NDA.” 

“So you got no idea what we’re workin’ with,” Joel said, grinding his teeth. 

“Just that it’s someone people know,” Tommy said. “Long term contract, real good money. They mentioned a stalker, they’re bringing all the information along on that to review, wanted you to see it before we signed on.” 

Joel nodded slowly. 

“Well,” he said. “Least it’ll be interesting.” 

They made it to the top floor of the hotel, only four doors and Joel fought the urge to laugh. God, this breed of rich asshole was a whole new level. 

Tommy led the way to a door labeled Presidential Suite and knocked, a young woman with close cropped dark hair and a headphone in her ear answered the door. 

“One second,” she said, tapping her headphone before she smiled at the two men. “Thank you for coming, Mr. Miller. My boss prefers to have people come to where she is when she travels, I’m sure you can understand…” 

“Of course,” Tommy said. “Happy to go wherever you need.” 

“Can I get you anything?” She asked, leading the way into a hotel suite that had to be damn near the size of Joel’s entire house. “Coffee? Water? Tea? Also have a variety of Coke I think you call it here if you’d like that.” 

“Water’s fine,” Tommy said. 

“Still, sparkling?” She asked. “Also have cucumber, lemon, mint…” 

“Uh,” Tommy blinked for a moment and Joel fought the urge to laugh. “Still’s fine. None of that other stuff.” 

She nodded before she looked to Joel, her brows raised. 

“Coffee,” he said. “Black.” 

“Of course,” she smiled, leading them to a sitting room and gesturing to a couch. “Quinn will be with you shortly.” 

She disappeared and returned with their drinks, handing them to each of them with a smile before she tapped the headphone again. 

“Thank you,” she said, her voice almost syrupy sweet as she went to another room. “I appreciate you waiting since you’re apparently so willing to try to fuck us over…” 

Tommy’s eyes went wide and he looked at Joel, the conversation becoming almost silent as she closed the door behind her. 

“Definitely ain’t from around here,” Joel said. 

“Guess not,” Tommy said. 

It wasn’t long - Joel only drank half the coffee which was far better than he was expecting it to be - when another door opened, a woman closer to his own age coming out, dressed in an expertly fitted gray suit, her dark hair in long, tiny braids that hung to her waist. Sarah had always liked hair like that, always begged Joel to let her get them. He wished he had whiskey for his coffee. 

The woman was on the phone, too, but she was on speaker. 

“I don’t care,” she said. “You know the deal and I’m not going to just sit here and pretend that you don’t because you decided today was the day to play fucking games. Call me when you want to handle shit like a fucking grown up.” 

She hung up and sat heavily on the couch opposite them, the girl who answered the door almost scurrying into the room and hovering near the large coffee table. The woman in the suit - Quinn, Joel assumed - giving her a single nod and she rushed off, quickly returning with a bottle of water and several folios. 

“Tommy,” Quinn smiled. “While it’s good to see you again, I’m sure you’ll understand when I say I’m looking forward to getting this settled so we can stop meeting like this.” 

Tommy smiled back. 

“Can’t say I disagree,” he said. “Wanted you to have the chance to meet Joel, he’ll be the lead on this contract assuming we go ahead. He’s one of my best guys, got the history you asked for…” 

“I’m sure being your brother doesn’t hurt,” she smiled a little. Joel raised his eyebrows and looked to Tommy but she answered his unspoken question. “We pulled backgrounds for everyone on your payroll. We can’t be too careful.” 

She tossed one of the leather folios on the table. 

“This is what we’re up against,” she said. “Redacted, of course, so you can’t ascertain who my client is but you’ll have access to the full versions should you accept the contract and sign the necessary NDAs. We’ve naturally brought them to the police and they believe the threat is credible. They have a lot of information - some of these were sent to my client’s private residence, for example - and it’s clear they’ve seen my client in person numerous times. We have reason to believe they will follow my client wherever she goes and there is genuine concern for escalation…” 

Tommy picked up the file and looked it over, nodding slowly, before passing a page off to Joel. It was the photo copy of a printed letter. 

You were beautiful today in that green dress. 

One day, you’ll come home to me. One day, I’ll make you see. 

Joel passed the page back to Tommy. 

“I can see why you’re concerned,” Tommy said, handing the folio back. “Don’t seem like anything we can’t handle. I think we’re alright to move forward with the contract as discussed…” 

There was a knock at the door and the girl ran to go answer it, Quinn ignoring it completely. 

“Excellent,” she said, grabbing another folio and passing it over. “This is the contract and the NDA, already reviewed by your legal team. We just require a wet signature.” 

Tommy nodded, looking over the pages, anyway, and Joel was starting to wonder why he’d had to be trotted out like some kind of prize show pony just to sign some damn paperwork when there was a commotion at the door. 

“This really isn’t necessary,” the girl was saying, her voice oddly pleading, the total opposite of how she’d been on the phone. 

“Oh I’m sure Quinn won’t mind,” another voice - a new one but there was a tug of familiarity to it that set Joel’s teeth on edge - said. “I am her favorite client, after all.” 

Quinn’s head snapped in the direction of the sound and, in a sweep of gauzy clothes and floral perfume, you were there. 

Joel recognized you immediately, everything about you seeming to have been built to be remembered. The whole world remembered you, it had been years since he’d been able to escape you. The biggest movie star on the planet, helming major franchises and winning fucking Oscars, on the cover of gossip rags at the fucking grocery store and on billboards advertising perfume and on Saturday Night Live. In person, from the second you appeared, you were a force. Your face, your voice, the way you held yourself, no wonder he always noticed you when you were all around him. No wonder his daughter had been obsessed with you. 

Your face was a poster on her wall, a picture where you had the slightest, confident smile on your lips but your eyes always seemed sad. You turned those eyes to him, ranging over him like you were taking stock and Joel’s heart stuttered before your gaze turned to Tommy and back to Quinn. 

“So glad you got the meeting started without me,” you said, all saccharine sweetness, stepping over Joel’s legs and sitting down on the edge of the couch between him and Tommy. You crossed one elegant leg over the other - your pants ever so slightly sheer so Joel could just make out your thigh below the loose fabric - and leaned forward, taking Joel’s white china coffee cup off the table and helping yourself to a sip with a jingle of your bangles that were piled high on your wrists. You gave him a wink as you did, setting the cup back on its saucer before leaning onto your leg, your arms folded in front of you. “I’m sure the fact that I didn’t know it was happening has nothing to do with wanting to cut me out of the decision making for something that’s going to be apparently integral to my life over the next year.” 

“I just don’t want to bog you down with petty things like this,” Quinn waved you off. “You have enough on your plate, that’s what you pay me for…” 

“Oh I’m sure that’s all it is…” 

Quinn leaned forward, too, meeting your steely gaze from across the table. The knowing smile that had been on her lips just a second earlier was gone. In its place was a no nonsense expression that Joel imagined carried her far when dealing with Hollywood assholes. She, it seemed, was done coddling you. 

“The studios know,” she cut you off. “Someone at the police station leaked it. And they won’t insure you without higher levels of security, especially if you want to spend this much time outside LA. You want to keep working? You need security. At least until we get to the bottom of whoever is sending you letters.” 

“Have you tried telling them how well the tickets will sell when I die?” You asked, brows raised. “I’m sure they’ll be champing at the bit then, especially now that they can just replace me with CGI for whatever isn’t in the can…” 

“That’s not funny,” Quinn said sharply. 

“Oh, come on. It was a little funny.” 

She glared at you. 

“Do you really want someone like that getting close to her?” She asked, her voice almost unsettlingly earnest and gentle. You almost deflated then, giving in. “It’s not safe, babe. I’m trying to keep you safe. It just so happens that it’s also in the studio’s best interest so you don’t have to foot the entire bill.” 

“You must not have told them about the boost in ticket sales, then,” you said wryly. She rolled her eyes. “But fine. If you really think there’s a risk to her? I’ll do it.” 

Joel wondered who this “her” was. Knowing movie stars, probably some tiny fucking dog you carried in your goddamn purse. 

You looked to Joel for a moment, your gaze oddly cutting, like you were seeing through every part of him before turning your attention to Tommy. 

“When does your contract begin then?” 

Tommy glanced at Joel, almost asking if he was actually OK with this. Clearly, this wasn’t what Tommy had expected either. Joel gave a minute shrug. 

“Tomorrow,” Tommy said, looking back to you. “Joel here will be your point man but you’ll also be working with a few other guys from my company. He’ll get you oriented tomorrow and we can work out a way to ensure your protection that’s minimally disruptive to your daily life.” 

You scoffed. 

“Something tells me having a wall of muscle follow me everywhere is going to disruptive,” you said. “But the studio says jump, we say how high, right?” 

“Hey, I don’t make the rules,” Quinn said.

“We all know who does,” you muttered darkly, getting to your feet. “Well, since all this was going to happen whether I wanted it to or not, I think I’m done wasting my time here.” 

You turned to Joel and he found himself in the unnatural position of looking up to someone, his jaw tight as you levied those exacting eyes on him again. 

“See you in the morning,” you said, reaching down and helping yourself to another sip of his coffee with a wink before stepping over his legs and heading out the door in a whirl of soft perfume and flowing fabric. He looked back to the coffee cup. Your lipstick was on the rim.

Joel tried not to think about how you looked at him as Tommy finished up with the formalities, the conversation between his brother and Quinn a drone he couldn’t really make out over the noise in his head as his leg bounced impatiently.

When Tommy had looked at him just now, the silent request for permission, he should have bowed out. He should have said he didn’t want to put his life on the line for some spoiled fucking brat and gone home. But he hadn’t and he couldn’t back out of this now. It didn’t matter how much you made him think of his daughter. It didn’t matter how your eyes seemed to cut him to the quick. He owed Tommy. When he’d started in this business, he’d told his brother that he could do this work and sometimes that meant doing shit he wasn’t comfortable with. He would just have to live with that. 

Eventually, Joel gave up on sitting still. 

“Be downstairs,” he said gruffly to Tommy when the conversation with Quinn lulled for a moment. He didn’t wait for a response before going for the elevator, relieved that it as empty on the way down to the lobby as it had been on the way up. 

But the ground floor of the hotel was not the quiet place it had been when Joel had arrived. Instead, there was a press of people just outside the doors, phones up and loud enough that he could hear them through the glass. He frowned for a moment before he realized what it was, the metal of your bangles catching the light as your arm rose above the crowd, a phone clutched in your hand as you took a selfie. 

“Jesus,” Joel muttered, stalking over toward the door. 

At least, he thought, he wasn’t on duty until tomorrow. If you really wanted to handle shit that bad on your own? Fine by him. 

The doorman held the door for him and Joel gave him a stiff nod as he tried to force his way from the building, but the press of people was becoming suffocating, every inch of sidewalk crammed tight. 

“Can I get a selfie?” 

“My girlfriend loves you, can you say hi to her on video?” 

“Can I have an autograph?” 

“Look, I’m happy to give you all whatever you want,” you said, voice friendly but still curt. “But I need a little room to breathe, OK? I’m not in a rush, we’ve got time, it’s…” 

Someone from the outside edge of the crowd shoved forward, sending the press of people toward you, Joel tall enough that he could see how they tripped and jostled, sending you stumbling into the person at your back. You had to fight for the space to stand up again, the man you’d fallen into’s hand running up your side to your chest, cupping the underside of your breast as you tried to find a way to separate from him. If it wasn’t for the look on his face, Joel might have given him the benefit of the doubt. But his lecherous smile gave him away, and the thinly veiled look of disgust on your face told him you knew exactly what this man was trying. 

Something that hadn’t existed much since Joel lost everything took over. It was rage, blind and violent and coursing through him sharp and heady. That rage didn’t give him a chance to really think, but then, it never had. Not when he was a kid and his dad was on some bender, not when he was some hotheaded teenager looking to pick a fight with a bully at school, not when he was at a bar and saw someone who could have killed his daughter. It was no different now as he practically dove into the crowd, forcing the group apart and not caring if people got pushed into the street or shoved to the ground.

“Move!” Joel yelled, not that it seemed to do much beyond warn people that he was coming for them. He reached you in a matter of seconds, towering over the man who’d decided to take advantage of your vulnerable position to grope you. The man - more of a kid, likely some student at UT who didn’t know his ass from hole in the ground - gaped up at him, his eyes wide and his hand still on your breast. 

Joel took your arm and pulled you, roughly, away from his grip, tucking you behind him before refocusing on the kid in front of him. 

“You think that shit’s funny?” Joel asked, his hand curling into a fist. “Touchin’ a woman without permission?” 

“I was just…” he looked afraid and something inside Joel flared with pride at that. Look at what he could do, he thought, it looked like he was capable of something after all. 

“Know what you were just,” Joel cut him off, mockingly, before grabbing him by his shirt and slamming him back into a marble pillar. The kids head smacked against it with sickening crack. “Do that shit again and I’ll bust your jaw.” 

Joel released him and the kid slumped to the ground before he turned to find you, looking down at the kid with your mouth slightly open. 

“C’mon,” Joel said, throwing his arm around your shoulder and pulling you into him, ducking your head down low to ruin the picture for anyone who might be trying to take one. “Let’s go.” 

He looked around, the crowd thinner now but all watching him. 

“Move!” He roared again. This time, they listened, parting like the Red Sea as he ushered you quickly away, back into the hotel. He looked to the door man, trying not to glare at him too hard. “Those assholes don’t come inside, we clear?” 

“Yes sir,” the man said quickly.

Joel looked to you next. 

“Where’s your car?” 

“Valet,” you said, your forehead in your hand. “I didn’t get a chance to even grab it yet, someone must have tipped off some fucking gossip blog that I was here…” 

“Got the ticket?” Joel asked. You sighed and fished it out of your pocket and handed it over before Joel took it to the front desk and told them to have your car brought out back. He also got directions to the loading dock before going back to find you, in the same spot on the plush lobby couch, fingers laced together, elbows braced on your knees. 

“C’mon,” Joel said, making you jump before looking up at him. “They’re bringing your car around back, we’ll get you out of here without those fuckers knowin’.” 

You looked back down at the ground before giving a stiff nod. 

“Thanks.” You got up and took a deep breath, raising your chin, an almost serene look on your face before looking to him. “Lead the way.” 

He did as you asked, watching like a hawk for anyone who might be stupid enough to try to talk to you. But no one seemed to pay you any mind, even as the two of you cut through the dining room - closed between lunch and dinner service - and into the kitchen, where dozens of cooks were working to get set for the evening. They just ducked around the pair of you, sometimes giving Joel a dirty look for getting in their way, and then you were at the loading dock. 

“Here,” Joel said, jumping down from the edge of it to the alley still damp from rain from the night before. He held his hands out to you. “I’ll help you down.” 

“Thanks, but I’d rather do it myself,” you said. You were more cautious about it than Joel but you jumped down and landed lightly beside him, brushing your hands free of the dirt from the dock before crossing your arms tightly over your chest. Your jaw was tight, the only sign on your calm, uncommonly beautiful face that something might be wrong. Joel crossed his arms, too. 

“You OK?” He asked after a moment. 

You looked at him for a second, your brows raised ever so slightly. 

“Fine,” you said after a moment before staring straight ahead again. 

“You sure?” He asked. He wasn’t sure why he was pressing. He shouldn’t care. He didn’t care.

“Yes,” you said and then you laughed once, sharply. “I mean, no, I’m not but what the fuck am I going to do about it? It’s part of the job, isn’t it?” 

Joel ground his teeth. 

“Shouldn’t be.” 

“Regardless,” you shrugged, glancing at him again. “Thank you for your help. You didn’t have to do that and… Well, I appreciate it.” 

“Sure,” he said as your car came around the corner. You dropped your arms before turning to face him. 

“Looks like it’s you and me starting tomorrow,” you said. “I’m sure your boss will give you all the details but I don’t think I caught your name.” 

“Joel,” he said after a moment. “Miller.”

You smiled, a small, almost hesitant one, the slightest upturn of your lips. 

“Joel Miller,” you repeated back to him. “It’s nice to meet you, I’m…” 

“Don’t need to tell me your name,” he said. “Pretty sure everyone on Earth knows your name.” 

You laughed again in that same, humorless way as your car stopped beside you. 

“Yeah,” you said. “I suppose they do. See you tomorrow, Joel.” 

“See you tomorrow, ma’am.” 

He watched you pull cash out of your pocket and smile more broadly at valet who was damn near gawking at you. You discreetly handed him the money as you shook his hand and Joel stayed there in the alley until he couldn’t see your car any more. 

“Holy shit,” the valet said and Joel looked down at him. He had to be about 18 years old, still wet behind the ears. Probably had fucking posters of you up in his room that he jerked off to before he went to bed. He held up the cash. “She gave me 100 bucks!” 

Joel looked down at him, making sure to draw himself to his full height. 

“You gonna tell anyone we got her out this way?” He asked. The kid swallowed hard and shook his head. “Good.” 

Joel tried not to grind his teeth as he went back inside to find his brother. He wished it wasn’t too late to back out of this. You, he thought, were going to be far more than he’d bargained for. He just hoped he was ready for it.

***

“I’m not wearing this.” 

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. 

“Seriously dude?” You asked, incredulous. “Can’t you wait like… two days before picking a fight?” 

“Have you seen this fucking thing?” Ellie’s eyebrows disappeared into her bangs as she held up the hem of the blue plaid skirt that, you had to admit, looked sickeningly unnatural on your 14-year-old niece. “You could put a whole circus up this thing! And how am I supposed to kick someone’s ass in a fucking skirt?” 

“First of all, language,” you said. She rolled her eyes. You ignored her. “Second of all, you shouldn’t be kicking anybody’s ass. Why are you starting your day thinking about ass kicking? You haven’t even met these kids yet, I highly doubt you’ll need to kick someone’s ass your first day.” 

“I’d like to be able to kick someone’s ass if I need to,” she said, incredulous. “Come on. You know this is insane.” 

You sighed as the doorbell rang and you checked your watch. 7 a.m. on the nose. Well, at least the man was prompt. 

“Fine,” you sighed. “Run upstairs, put on something else…” 

Ellie took off as Esmo, your household assistant, appeared next to you, Joel by her side. 

“Morning,” he said, voice gruff. You looked him over quickly, a side arm at his belt on a pair of jeans that fit him entirely too well. You doubted they were tailored, either, they just fit him like that, the bastard. Just your luck that you’d get stuck with a bodyguard who was unnaturally good looking but also an asshole. “Thought we could get started with…”

“Sorry, that won’t work, things are a bit off the rails this morning,” you said to him quickly, not giving him a chance to respond before turning to Esmo.

“Do you still have the name of the uniform store?” You asked her. “If you do, can you see if they’re open? I think we’re going to need to stop for pants…” 

“Yes ma’am,” she said, quickly pulling out her phone. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t think to get pants, the requirements were very clear…” 

“It’s not your fault,” you said quickly. Esmo had only been working for you for a few weeks and it felt like the two of you were still getting used to each other. She insisted on calling you ma’am. You insisted on doing too much for yourself. It was a delicate balance. “She’s just…” 

“OK,” Ellie came thundering down the stairs in the same sweater with a button down shirt and tie but jeans instead of the skirt. “Ready!” 

“Store opened at seven,” Esmo said, pocketing her phone. “I can take her and…” 

“I want to do it,” you cut her off, catching a glimpse of Joel’s shocked expression out of the corner of your eye as you looked back to your niece. “Alright trouble maker, ready to go?” 

“Fuck yeah.” 

“Girl,” you said. “Language, please!” 

She made a face but made her way to the front door, anyway, her thumbs looped through the straps of her book bag and you turned to Joel, still surprised at just how large he was, even after being against him the day before. 

“Assuming you’re along for the ride on this,” you said, jerking your head for the door. “But we gotta book it, with an extra stop we’re already not going to be early for her first day.” 

He still had a look of almost shock on his face but he followed behind you as you grabbed your keys and wristlet from the bowl by the door, Ellie bouncing impatiently from foot to foot. 

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were excited,” you teased as you made you way to the Porsche SUV you’d gotten specifically to haul Ellie around. “Almost like you want to go to school instead of hanging out with me all day.” 

“Spending time with old people does get… well, old,” she smirked, heading for the passenger seat but you stopped her. 

“Absolutely not, you’re in back,” you said, jerking a thumb toward Joel - who still hadn’t spoken. “This man has a good foot on you, we’re not making him sit back there.” 

“Ugh, fine,” she huffed but obeyed, throwing her book bag against the opposite door before clambering in as Joel went for the driver’s seat, holding out his hand for the keys. You gave him a look but he just raised his brow, his arm still extended expectantly. 

“Please,” you scoffed. “I’ll let you follow me around like some guard dog but I’m keeping some last vestige of my autonomy. I’m driving.” 

He narrowed his eyes. 

“No.” 

“And why not?” You asked. “Because you have control issues?”

“Do you know evasive driving tactics?” He asked. “How to watch for pursuers and safely out run them?” 

“No, but I did my own stunt driving for the Fast Track franchise,” you said wryly. “Think I’ll be fine. Now move, you’re making us late.” 

He ground his teeth. 

“We’re talkin’ about this,” he muttered before stalking off to the passenger side of the car. 

“Yeah I bet we are,” you said under your breath as you got in the car and programmed the GPS for the uniform store. 

“So,” Ellie said in a teasing tone as she leaned between the front seats as you started off. “Who are you?”

“Put on your seatbelt,” he said. 

She rolled her eyes but sat back and obeyed.

“This is Joel,” you answered for him. “He’s going to be around quite a bit.” 

“Is he like another assistant or some shit?” She asked. 

“Language,” you said and you caught a glimpse of her rolling her eyes in your rearview mirror. “And no, not an assistant.” 

“Ohhhh,” she smirked. “So he’s like a boyfriend then, got it…” 

Joel rolled his eyes. 

“I’m a bodyguard,” he said. “I’ll be protecting your…” 

“Bodyguard?” Ellie interrupted and leaned forward again, frowning. “Why do you need a bodyguard? You didn’t have one of those in LA, what the fuck?” 

“I have a bodyguard because you can’t go five minutes without saying fuck,” you said wryly. “My life is under constant threat because of…” 

“Please,” Ellie rolled her eyes. “You have a worse mouth than I do. But seriously, why do you need a bodyguard? Is something going on?” 

You saw Joel moving to talk but you spoke before he had a chance to. 

“This is just a different place than LA,” you said quickly. “People here aren’t used to people like me just showing up in grocery stores and stuff. It can get out of hand quick so the studio wanted me to have Joel around. It’s just a precaution.” 

She seemed skeptical but was satisfied enough by the bullshit explanation you’d just given her that she sat back, pulling a Savage Starlight comic book from her book bag and you smiled a little. A lot might have changed in the last few months but at least Ellie was still Ellie. 

You made it to the uniform store and told the woman inside - who was seemingly trying not to gape at you but was failing miserably - what you were looking for. She grabbed a few pairs of uniform pants in different sizes before leading Ellie to the fitting rooms and you hung back, waiting for her to change with Joel by your side. He stood facing you, eyes constantly sweeping the store as though this strip mall just outside Austin were a war zone. 

“No one told me you had a kid,” he said eventually. 

You smiled, sadly. 

“Yeah, well,” you said. “I have a kid. That’s a pretty new development, though.” 

That made him pause, his eyebrows drawing together as he looked to you. 

“I adopted her,” you said. “A few months ago. Her mom was a single parent and like a sister to me. When she got cancer, the first thing she asked me was to take Ellie if… I told her that she was nuts, that she’d be around forever and she wouldn’t need me to do anything for Ellie besides take her to Europe for a cool aunt vacation when she turned 18 but… well, now I have a kid.” 

“I…” His voice trailed off. “Shit. I’m sorry.”  

You shrugged. 

“It is what it is, I guess,” you said. “She’s why I’m here. Things in LA… I’ve always been in her life. I was the second person to ever hold her. But I’ve always kept the paparazzi far away from her, I’ve made sure she has privacy and that she was as sheltered from that part of my life as she could be. I want to settle into this with some version of normal, one that isn’t possible when I’m in LA. And you, Joel, are throwing quite a wrench into that.” 

“Oh this is so much better,” Ellie threw the door to the changing room open with a flourish, in a pair of blue pants that perfectly matched the blue of the sweater. “Not as good as jeans but better than that stupid freaking skirt.” 

“Alright,” you said. “We’ll take five of those and then we have to get you to school because there’s no point in loading you up on uniforms just to have you miss your first day, let’s go.” 

You weren’t as early as you wanted to be - you’d been hoping to have a chance to meet Ellie’s teachers before the day started but that plan was shot - but at least kids were still arriving. You grabbed a baseball cap from your glove box, Joel stiffening as you reached between his legs to open it and you resisted the urge to smirk at that. As though you’d be trying to come onto him at all let alone with your niece in the car. 

Hat on so you were somewhat disguised, you walked with Ellie and Joel to the front of the stone building, one that had clearly taken inspiration from the ivy league schools the kids who went here were all but destined to attend. A gray haired woman in a charcoal pantsuit rushed out to greet you, an almost stern look on her face. 

“Welcome to Austin Preparatory Academy,” she extended her hand. “I’m Amanda Stark, headmistress here.” 

“Good to meet you,” you said, taking her hand, feeling Joel standing oddly close to your back. “This is Ellie, she’s looking forward to starting here today and…” 

“We’re looking forward to having her,” she smiled a little at Ellie before redirecting her attention to you. “But I’m afraid there’s been some… ah… miscommunication about the uniform. Girls are required to wear skirts. I’m sure we have…” 

“No miscommunication,” you smiled a little, steeling your spine. From the moment you’d caved to Ellie, you knew this was coming. But you’d been prepared to fight far bigger battles over this kid, this wasn’t going to be any different. “Ellie just prefers to wear pants. It wasn’t a problem at her last school, I’m sure it won’t be a problem here.” 

Ellie stuck her chin out, smirking a little and defiant as ever and you resisted the urge to elbow her. She could at least act like she wasn’t going to get her way. 

“But it is,” the headmistress said. “The uniform code here has been this way for decades and…” 

“And I’m sure you’re not suggesting that just because something has been done one way that it should continue to be done that way at the expense of students’ comfort and learning experience,” you finished for her, smiling tightly.

“We have expectations for our students,” she said, her jaw clenched. “Just like they will have one day to be successful in life, and…” 

“And you’re wearing pants,” you nodded to her suit. “And so am I. Of course, if you’re suggesting that neither of us is successful then…” 

“No, no of course not, that’s not…” 

“Wonderful!” You said brightly. “I’m glad that’s settled. I’m sure Ellie won’t cause any disruption wearing the uniform pants and now I won’t need to spend my day contacting every major news network here in Austin and asking them to come here and chat with me about your archaic gender rules and expectations. Sound good?” 

You watched her grind her teeth for a moment. 

“Of course,” she said after a moment of silence hanging in the air. “But we are close to the start of the school day and…” 

“Yes, I don’t want to be a distraction,” you smiled before turning to Ellie, tucking a hair that had already broken free of her ponytail behind her ear. “Alright kid, behave yourself, OK?” 

“Yes Sissy,” she rolled her eyes. Your heart still tightened a little when she called you that. She sounded so much like her mother, Anna. You loved that Ellie called you the same thing her mother had but still, it stung.

“I’ll be back to pick you up,” you said, putting your hands on her shoulders. “Have a good first day, OK?” 

“Oh I will,” she said and you watched her head into the building with the headmistress at her side until you couldn’t see her anymore. 

“OK, she’s dropped,” Joel said, his voice tight. “Let’s move, this place isn’t secured.” 

“Well that sure seems like a gap in security, doesn’t it?” You said, brows raised. 

“One I would have fixed if anyone had bothered to tell me you had a damn kid,” he practically growled. 

“Probably a bad idea for your boss to not have insisted on bringing me into the conversation then, wasn’t it?” 

He looked at you, his face hard. 

“Keys.” He held out his hand.

You laughed once. 

“Keys?” You said. “Really? Just ‘keys,’” you grunted it like he did, “that’s it?”

“Your kid is inside,” he said, hand still out. “Don’t have her to use an excuse now so, keys.” 

You looked at him for a moment, the firm set of his jaw, the flecks of gray just starting in at his temples. He was a good looking man, tall and broad with a rugged look to him. He’d make a good cowboy in a western, you thought, or maybe a hardened detective. But protecting someone like you seemed out of place for him. Beneath him a little, almost like he was a sell out.

“No,” you said simply, ducking around him and heading for the car. 

He followed closely behind you, even his footfalls gruff and angry. You sped up a little but he stepped in front of you, anyway, his oddly large body blocking your door. He opened his mouth - probably to try to order you around again - but you cut him off before he had the chance. 

“I’m not letting you drive,” you said. “It doesn’t matter what you do or what you say. If you want to drive, you’re going to have to pick me up and move me so, if you want to get out of here quickly and without causing a scene, you’ll get in the passenger seat and we can go.” 

For half a moment, you thought he might actually throw you over his shoulder. Instead, he just grunted and stalked around to the other side of the car, ripping the door open roughly. You pressed your lips together, trying not to laugh. All this pretense over some stupid letters from some over zealous fan. 

You got in the car and dropped the keys in Joel’s lap. He frowned, picking them up. 

“You want to have the keys so bad? Fine.” You pushed the button and the car roared to life. “I’ve got them right where I want them.” 

“You gotta come to terms with how this shit is going to work,” he said sharply. “You can’t just do whatever the hell it is you feel like. I get that you’re some spoiled fuckin’ actress who only ever does exactly what she wants whenever she wants but I got news for you, I don’t give a shit how many movies you’ve been in or awards you’ve won. I care about keeping your ass alive and to do that, you gotta listen to me. I ain’t one of those fuckin’ ass kissers you spend all your time with so we can do this the hard way or the easy way but either way, it’s gonna be my fuckin’ way. Understood?” 

You watched him for a moment, your tongue between your teeth to keep from snapping at him. It was something you were used to, something you’d been doing since you were a girl, always shutting up while the people who were more powerful than you - people you’d made fucking rich - made every decision for you. 

That was one thing on set and in your career and even for posed fucking paparazzi shots but not in your real life. 

“I need coffee,” you said, putting the car in drive. “Coffee?” 

“I’m sure you got people who can do that for you,” he said, his jaw clenched. 

“Yes, but where’s the fun in that?” You smirked before nodding down to his wrist. “Oh, also? Your watch is broken.” 

You pressed the gas harder than you should have, the car jumping sharply forward, wondering just how far you could push your new shadow before he backed out.

Next Chapter

A/N: OK I'm already in love with writing how these two push each other's buttons. Annoying Joel Miller is my passion, I can't wait to drive this man absolutely insane over the arc of this fic.

Thank you so much for being patient as I wrapped up Yearling and went on vacation! I'm hoping to update this once a week going forward so you won't need to wait quite so long between chapters from here on out. I hope you enjoyed getting to know these two a little better!

Taglist: @christinamadsen @eff4freddie @brittmb115 @copperhalfcent @r3dheadedwitch @pedropascalsbbg @lovelyjess69 @yopossum @moel-jiller @picketniffler