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Hard Luck - JJK & KTH (18+) - Prologue

◆ Pairing: CEO Jungkook X Fem employee Reader X Legal advisor Taehyung. 

◆ Summary: You have a good face, a nice body, a fat amount saved in your secondary bank account, a stable job that you love, loving friends and family, you are good in bed. You have almost everything other than a good luck in love. Sleeping around with random dudes don’t feel enough when your friends are getting married and having kids. If you are being honest, you have started getting bored of this prolonged singlehood already. 

Your last light of hope fades away when your work crush, aka the hot guy from the legal department, Kim Taehyung (with whom you might or might not have slept once, okay! twice!), asks you to set him up with your work best friend (who, apparently, is the most asked out woman of the company). But what you don’t know is that the CEO of the company has taken a liking to you and has set out on a mission of winning your heart. 

But wait… Taehyung might have started developing feelings for you in the process of receiving your help!!!

◆ Chapter Summary: First time is a turn-of-events. Second time is... what?

◆ Theme: Romance, drama, light angst, my poor attempt of humor, fluff and eventual smut. office romance au. co-workers to lovers au.

◆ Warnings: implied smut, drinking. NSFW!!!

◆ Word count: 700

◆ Minors and karens are not allowed in this blog

◆ Taglist is open (till 3rd July, 12 am edt). So, you can comment down if you want to be tagged (only if you have your age mentioned in your bio). you can also dm me if you don't want to make your age public.

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When the first time it happened - both of you were drunk. 

Much to your dismay, it was one of those cliched turn-of-events that you hate with your full chest. 

Not that you didn’t know who Kim Taehyung is but still company gatherings are basically incomplete without “I am x from x department. Looking forward to working with you.” 

So you smiled at him politely, when he approached you, all while trying not to appear too flushed as the rich timbre of his voice grazed the back of your neck.

If he saw heat creeping up to the tip of your ears, he didn’t say anything. 

And then everything happened in a flash. At one moment he was offering to drop you home saying that he had called in a designated driver and the next moment, he was pushing your body against your bedroom door, kissing you as if he had waited the entire evening just for this. 

“I wanted to do this! All evening!” Taehyung confirmed, grunting when your tongue trespassed into his mouth. His words were tangled, you understood those nonetheless. 

“You wanted to kiss me all evening? You didn’t even know who I was.” you teased him as you hand did an exceptional job in undoing his necktie and removing his button-up within a few seconds. 

His hand roamed all over your body as if he didn’t know where to start from. 

“Umm.. So what? I knew your face. We have seen each other a couple of times in the elevator, cafeteria, once in a meeting too!” Taehyung replied upon scratching his memory, his hands finally started unzipping your dress, “it is a part of why I approached you today.” 

You knew you should never feel giddy during these kinds of situations. He could, very well, be saying those things only to get inside your pants. But the little flutter in your stomach was beyond your control. 

Taehyung is, after all, known as the most handsome man in the company and he is completely deserving of that title. 

He is all about dark hair, siren eyes, tall and towering weight, lopsided smiles that can turn into full boxy ones if you match his vibe. 

You won’t be exaggerating if you say that he is the most good looking human you have ever witnessed in your life. And a man as handsome as him saying that he intentionally approached you, strokes your ego for sure. 

When he left your apartment the next morning after he made sure that you had his number saved in your phone as “taetae”, your heart was gone alongside him.

As a result, the second time comes more naturally. And this time none of you have a drop of alcohol in your system, which means you have to take the full responsibility for your actions. 

Taehyung hands mold against your smaller frame so naturally that it surprises you. It’s impossible to hold someone so intimately after having sex just once. 

But he does it. 

He holds you, kisses you, presses your body on his as if he means it all. You give him access without thinking much. 

“Never thought a harmless coffee invitation would turn out this way.” Taehyung mumbles as he nips on the skin of your throat. You moan his name as sweetly as possible. 

“You sure, you didn’t plan for this?” oh! You love to tease him. 

“You caught me.” he bemoans as his fingers unbutton your shirt hastily. 

Then you don’t say anything and let him do his thing. 

He takes you to his bedroom, lays you down on his immaculately made bed and makes love to you. 

Yes. it was not just fucking but he actually makes love to you. 

It was more vanilla than anything you have ever experienced before and you like it this way. Soft moans and groans fill his lavender scented bedroom. 

Taehyung spills into the condom much before you are even close. So, goes down on his knees and eats you out and in turn makes you cum. 

Very few men that bedded you were this considerate. 

Hence, that flutter in your heart is back. 

Things can’t go wrong if you take it slow right? 

(Unbeknownst to you… things are going to go very wrong.) 

Permanent Taglist:

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Series Taglist:

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[bratzkoo]

timeless rhythm | jung hoseok

Author:bratzkoo | navi Mood board by: @aaagustd Beta read by: @casuallyimagining - first draft and @jintherapper - second draft, thank you guys so much ! Pairing: time lord! hoseok x archaeologist! reader Genre: fluff, adventure, action (i think?) Rating: PG-15 Word count: 13k~ Warnings/note: my fellow armys that are also whovians, this is for you. the doctor x river song is my fave story line in the whole doctor who series and i just NEED hobi to be a time lord. ++ hobi will be known as "the dancer" and not the doctor because he’s a time lord not the time lord known as the doctor. hehe.

WELCOME BACK, HOBI!!!

summary: you met an alien with a spaceship who claimed to be your husband from the future and asked you to save the world with him. aka the dancer's adventure with his future wife.

The scorching sun beat down on the archaeological dig site, casting long shadows across the sandy terrain. You wiped the sweat from your brow, squinting against the glare as you carefully brushed away another layer of dirt. The excitement of discovery thrummed through your veins, a familiar rush that had drawn you to archaeology in the first place.

"Dr. [Y/N]!" called out one of your assistants, waving frantically from the other side of the excavation. "I think we've found something!"

You scrambled to your feet, ignoring the protest of your tired muscles. As you approached, you could see the glint of metal peeking out from the earth. Your heart raced as you knelt beside the find, gently clearing away the surrounding soil.

"Careful now," you murmured, more to yourself than to your eager team. "Let's see what we've got here."

As more of the object was revealed, your excitement grew. It was unlike anything you'd ever seen before – a small, intricately designed device made of a material you couldn't immediately identify. Strange markings covered its surface, reminiscent of circuitry but far more complex.

"It's beautiful," breathed your assistant, leaning in for a closer look.

You nodded, unable to tear your eyes away from the artifact. "It is. But what is it?"

As if in response to your question, the device began to hum softly. The markings on its surface flickered with a faint, pulsing light.

"Everyone, step back!" you ordered, your instincts screaming that this was no ordinary archaeological find.

Just as your team retreated to a safe distance, a blinding flash of light erupted from the artifact. You threw your arm up to shield your eyes, heart pounding in your chest. When the light faded and you lowered your arm, you gasped.

Standing before you was a man who definitely hadn't been there a moment ago. He was tall and lean, with a shock of vibrant red hair and a disarming smile. His clothes were peculiar – a mix of styles that didn't quite fit any particular era. But it was his eyes that caught your attention – dark and intense, they seemed to hold the wisdom of ages.

"Well, hello there!" the stranger said cheerfully, as if materializing out of thin air was a perfectly normal occurrence. "I see you've found my little toy. I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask for that back. It's rather dangerous in the wrong hands, you know."

You blinked, trying to process what was happening. "Who are you? How did you get here?"

The man's smile widened, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Oh, that's a long story. Very complicated. As for how I got here..." He gestured vaguely at the air around him. "Time machine. Very technical. You wouldn't understand."

You crossed your arms, narrowing your eyes at the mysterious stranger. "Try me. I'm an archaeologist. Understanding the past is my job."

He laughed, a warm, rich sound that sent an unexpected shiver down your spine. "Oh, I know exactly who you are, Dr. [Y/N]. And what you are to me. Or rather, what you will be."

"What's that supposed to mean?" you demanded, frustration mounting.

The stranger's expression softened, a mix of fondness and something else – was that sadness? – flitting across his features. "It means, my dear [Y/N], that I'm your husband. From your future, to be precise."

You stared at him, mouth agape. "That's... that's impossible. And if that were true, why won't you tell me your name?"

"Improbable, perhaps," he conceded with a shrug. "But certainly not impossible. Especially not in my line of work. As for my name... well, let's just say names have power, especially in my case. You can call me... the Dancer, for now."

Before you could formulate a response, the device at your feet began to pulse more urgently. The Dancer's playful demeanor vanished, replaced by intense focus.

"We don't have much time," he said, all business now. "That artifact you've found? It's not just some ancient relic. It's a key to a weapon that could tear apart the fabric of time itself. And there are people – very bad people – who would love to get their hands on it."

You glanced down at the innocuous-looking object, then back at the self-proclaimed Dancer. "Why should I believe you?"

He met your gaze, his eyes pleading. "Because deep down, you know there's something different about this find. Something that doesn't fit with anything you've studied before. And because, whether you believe it or not, I care about you more than anything in this universe or any other."

A tense silence stretched between you, broken only by the increasingly urgent hum of the artifact. Your mind raced, weighing the impossibility of the Dancer's claims against the undeniable strangeness of the situation.

Finally, you made a decision. "Alright," you said, scooping up the artifact and tucking it safely into your bag. "Let's say I believe you. What do we do now?"

Relief washed over the Dancer's face. He held out his hand to you, a roguish grin replacing his earlier intensity. "Now, my dear [Y/N], we run. And then, if you're up for it, I thought we might save the universe."

Despite everything – the impossibility, the danger, the sheer absurdity of it all – you found yourself reaching for his hand. As your fingers intertwined with his, a jolt of electricity seemed to pass between you. 

The Dancer's grin widened. "Hold on tight," he warned, pulling a strange device from his pocket with his free hand. "The first trip is always a bit bumpy."

With a whir and a flash of light, the world around you dissolved. The last thing you saw before reality shifted was the startled faces of your archaeology team. Then you were hurtling through a vortex of swirling colors and impossible geometries, the Dancer's hand the only solid thing in a sea of chaos.

As the universe rearranged itself around you, one thought echoed through your mind: your life was never going to be the same again.

-

The vortex of time and space spun around you, a kaleidoscope of impossible colors and fractured realities. Just when you thought you couldn't take anymore, everything stopped. You stumbled, grateful for the Dancer's steadying hand on your elbow.

"Easy there," he said, his voice tinged with amusement. "Time travel can be a bit disorienting at first."

You straightened, taking in your new surroundings. Gone was the sun-baked archaeological site. Instead, you found yourself in what appeared to be an impossibly vast control room, filled with blinking lights, strange contraptions, and a central console that looked like it belonged in a steampunk fever dream.

"Welcome to my TARDIS," the Dancer announced, spreading his arms wide. "Time And Relative Dimension In Space. She can take us anywhere and anywhen in the universe."

You circled the console, your archaeologist's eye immediately drawn to the eclectic mix of technologies. "Fascinating," you murmured, noting the juxtaposition of what appeared to be ancient symbols alongside futuristic holographic displays. "It's like a historical palimpsest, layers upon layers of different eras all functioning together."

The Dancer's eyebrows shot up, clearly impressed. "That's... actually a very astute observation. Most people just say it's bigger on the inside."

You smirked, enjoying his surprise. "Well, I'm not most people. Now, care to tell me more about this artifact we've just absconded with?" You pulled the mysterious device from your bag, holding it up to the light.

The Dancer's expression sobered as he gently took the object from your hands. "It's called the Chronos Key. And it's far more dangerous than you can imagine."

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "I don't know, Dancer. I can imagine quite a bit. Try me."

He studied you for a moment, as if weighing how much to reveal. Finally, he sighed. "The Chronos Key is said to be able to unlock the Epoch Engine – a weapon capable of erasing entire civilizations from history."

You whistled low, the implications hitting you like a ton of bricks. "That's... well, that's certainly more than I was expecting when I started my dig this morning."

The Dancer's lips quirked in a half-smile. "Still think you can handle it?"

You straightened your shoulders, meeting his gaze head-on. "Dancer, I've pieced together entire cultures from nothing more than pottery shards and faded inscriptions. I think I can manage a little temporal mystery."

He grinned, a manic energy seeming to pulse around him. "Brilliant! Then let's get started, shall we? We need to find out more about this Epoch Engine, and for that, we need information."

"And where exactly does one go for information about time-erasing superweapons?" you asked, already anticipating an exciting answer.

The Dancer's grin widened as he began inputting coordinates into the TARDIS console. "The Library of Alexandrix, of course! The greatest repository of knowledge in twelve galaxies."

As the TARDIS lurched into motion, you gripped the console, a thrill of excitement coursing through you. "A trans-galactic library? Now that's my kind of adventure."

The journey was shorter than you expected, or perhaps time simply moved differently in the vortex. Either way, the TARDIS soon ground to a halt with a wheezing, groaning sound that you were quickly coming to associate with adventure.

The Dancer bounded to the doors, pausing with his hand on the handle. "Ready to see something amazing?"

You joined him, practically vibrating with anticipation. "Born ready."

He flung open the doors, and you gasped. Before you stretched an endless sea of bookshelves, reaching impossibly high into a star-studded sky. The air was thick with the scent of old paper and the hum of ancient knowledge.

"It's beautiful," you breathed, stepping out onto a floor that seemed to be made of shifting constellations.

The Dancer beamed, clearly pleased by your reaction. "Isn't it just? Now, let's see what we can find about our Epoch Engine."

You spent hours combing through ancient texts, your archaeological training proving invaluable as you deciphered long-dead languages and pieced together fragments of myths and legends. The Dancer flitted about, his energy seemingly inexhaustible as he pulled book after book from the shelves.

"Dancer," you called out eventually, excitement coloring your voice. "I think I've found something."

He was at your side in an instant, peering over your shoulder at the crumbling tome in your hands. "What is it?"

You pointed to an intricate diagram. "Look here. This symbol – it's nearly identical to the one on the Chronos Key. And the text... it's in a dialect I've never seen before, but it seems to be describing a device that can 'unravel the threads of time itself.'"

The Dancer's eyes widened as he studied the page. "Brilliant work, [Y/N]! This could be exactly what we need."

You preened a little at the praise, but your mind was already racing ahead. "There's more," you said, flipping to another page. "These coordinates... they're unlike any I've ever seen. They seem to be referencing not just space, but time as well."

The Dancer nodded, his expression grave. "That makes sense. The Epoch Engine wouldn't just be hidden in a place, but in a specific moment in time."

You frowned, considering the implications. "But how would we even begin to locate something like that?"

"Ah," the Dancer said, a mischievous glint in his eye, "that's where the TARDIS comes in handy. But first, we need to translate these coordinates."

You spent the next few hours poring over the text, your expertise in ancient languages complementing the Dancer's seemingly endless knowledge of alien civilizations. It was exhilarating work, like putting together the most complex puzzle you'd ever encountered.

Finally, you sat back, rubbing your tired eyes. "I think we've got it," you said, gesturing to the notes you'd compiled. "If I'm reading this correctly, the Epoch Engine is hidden on a planet called Chronos Prime, in a pocket dimension that only aligns with our universe once every thousand years."

The Dancer studied your notes, his expression a mix of admiration and concern. "Chronos Prime... it's in the Medusa Cascade. One of the most dangerous regions of space-time."

You nodded, a determined glint in your eye. "Well then, Dancer. Sounds like we've got our work cut out for us."

He looked at you, his gaze intense. "You know, you're taking all of this remarkably well. Time travel, alien planets, universe-ending weapons... It doesn't seem to faze you at all."

You shrugged, a small smile playing at your lips. "Dancer, I became an archaeologist because I believe that understanding the past is key to shaping the future. This? This is just taking that belief to its logical extreme."

The Dancer's answering smile was warm enough to melt stars. "You really are something else, [Y/N]."

"Flattery will get you everywhere, Dancer," you teased. Then, more seriously, "So, Chronos Prime. I don't suppose it's the kind of place we can just pop in for a quick visit?"

The Dancer's expression turned grim. "Not exactly. The Medusa Cascade is a rift in space and time. Navigation is tricky at best, suicidal at worst. And that's assuming we can even find Chronos Prime when it aligns with our universe."

You nodded, already formulating a plan. "We'll need more information then. Maybe something about the planet's unique temporal signature? If we can track that, we might be able to predict when and where it'll appear next."

The Dancer stared at you, clearly impressed. "That's... actually a brilliant idea. You're not just a pretty face, are you?"

You winked at him. "Careful, Dancer. Keep talking like that, and a girl might get ideas."

He spluttered adorably, and you decided to take pity on him. "Come on, let's head back to the TARDIS. I've got a feeling we're going to need all the help we can get for this next part."

As you made your way back through the labyrinthine library, a thought occurred to you. "Dancer? You said earlier that I'm your wife in the future. Does that mean you know how all this turns out?"

The Dancer's step faltered for a moment. When he spoke, his voice was soft, almost wistful. "Time isn't as linear as most people think, [Y/N]. The future isn't set in stone. Every choice we make, every action we take, it all has the potential to change what's to come."

You pondered his words as you walked. "So you don't know for certain what's going to happen?"

He shook his head. "No more than you do. All I know is what has been, not what will be."

"Well," you said, your tone light but your words heavy with meaning, "I guess we'll just have to write our own history then."

The Dancer looked down at you, a mix of emotions swirling in his eyes. "Together," he agreed softly.

As you approached the TARDIS, a sudden commotion behind you made you both spin around. A group of figures in sleek, black armor was racing towards you, weapons raised.

"Temporal Marauders," the Dancer hissed, fumbling for his key.

Your heart raced, but years of working in unstable dig sites had honed your ability to think clearly under pressure. You quickly scanned your surroundings, your archaeologist's eye picking out details others might miss.

"Dancer," you said urgently, pointing to a nearby shelf. "Those books – they're first editions of the Gallifreyan Chronicles. Priceless and irreplaceable."

The Dancer's eyes widened in understanding. He aimed his sonic screwdriver at the shelf, and suddenly the air was filled with flying books. The Temporal Marauders stumbled, momentarily blinded by the barrage of ancient tomes.

You both used the distraction to dash into the TARDIS, slamming the door shut just as energy blasts scorched the ground where you'd been standing. The Dancer raced to the console, his hands flying over the controls.

"Hold on tight!" he yelled as the TARDIS lurched into the time vortex.

As you clung to the railing, watching the Dancer pilot his impossible ship, you couldn't help but laugh. This was madness, pure and simple. Danger, adventure, mysteries spanning all of time and space...

You wouldn't have it any other way.

The TARDIS spun through the vortex, carrying you towards your next adventure. Whatever challenges lay ahead, whatever secrets the universe held, you were ready to face them. 

After all, you were [Y/N], archaeologist extraordinaire and future wife of the Dancer.

And you had a universe to save.

As the TARDIS stabilized, you turned to the Dancer, your mind already racing with possibilities. "So, what's our next move? We know where the Epoch Engine is hidden, but getting there is going to be a challenge."

The Dancer ran a hand through his hair, making it stand up even more wildly than before. "We need to find a way to predict when Chronos Prime will align with our universe. It's not just about finding the right place, but the right time as well."

You nodded, your archaeological training kicking in. "It's like trying to predict an eclipse, but on a cosmic scale. We need to understand the patterns, the cycles..." 

Suddenly, an idea struck you. "Dancer, what if we approach this like an archaeological dig? Instead of trying to predict the future, we look for traces of the past. Every time Chronos Prime aligns with our universe, it must leave some kind of temporal residue, right?"

The Dancer's eyes lit up. "Oh, [Y/N], you are brilliant! We could use the TARDIS to scan for temporal anomalies across different eras. If we can establish a pattern..."

"...we can predict when and where Chronos Prime will appear next," you finished, grinning.

As the Dancer began recalibrating the TARDIS systems, you felt a surge of excitement. This was why you'd become an archaeologist – to unravel the mysteries of the past and use that knowledge to illuminate the present and future.

Only now, instead of digging through ancient ruins, you were sifting through the very fabric of time itself. And you couldn't wait to see what you'd uncover next.

-

The TARDIS wheezed and groaned as it materialized on a rocky outcrop overlooking a vast, purple ocean. You stumbled out, your legs wobbling like jelly, and dramatically kissed the ground.

"Oh sweet, solid earth! I never thought I'd miss you so much," you exclaimed.

The Dancer stepped out behind you, a fond smile playing on his lips. "Don't be so dramatic," he chided, but his eyes sparkled with amusement. "It was just a bit of temporal turbulence."

You stood up, brushing dust off your knees. "A bit? Dancer, we were spinning so fast I think I left my stomach somewhere in the 18th century!"

The Dancer chuckled, clearly delighted by your sarcasm. "You know, [Y/N], your wit is almost as impressive as your archaeological skills. Almost."

You rolled your eyes, but couldn't suppress a smile. "Flattery will get you nowhere, Dancer. Now, care to tell me why we're on this lovely purple beach? Planning a holiday?"

"Not quite," he replied, pulling out his sonic screwdriver and waving it around like a divining rod. "This is Zeta Minor, about three thousand years before it becomes a popular destination for time-traveling tourists. It's known for its unique temporal properties."

You raised an eyebrow. "Let me guess, we're here to calibrate the TARDIS or some other techno-babble reason?"

The Dancer beamed at you. "Exactly! Oh, [Y/N], I do love how quickly you catch on. It's refreshing, really."

You were about to reply when a thought struck you. "Wait a minute. If this place becomes a hotspot for time travelers, won't we run into tourists from the future?"

The Dancer's eyes widened comically. "Ah. Yes. Well, let's hope not. That could get... awkward."

As if on cue, a group of figures appeared over a nearby hill, decked out in garish Hawaiian shirts and wielding selfie sticks.

"Oh, brilliant," the Dancer muttered. "Quick, act natural!"

You stared at him incredulously. "Act natural? We're standing next to a blue police box on an alien planet!"

"Well... act alien then!"

The Dancer's face lit up at your retort, and he looked like he was about to burst into laughter. Before he could respond, the group of tourists spotted you. Their leader, a portly green fellow with three eyes, waved enthusiastically.

"Oi! You there! Is this the line for the Temporal Tides Surfing Experience?"

You and the Dancer exchanged panicked glances. Then, inspiration struck. You stepped forward, adopting your best tour guide voice.

"Welcome, time-travelers! You're just in time for our special 'Pre-Historic Zeta Minor' experience. I'm your guide, Dr. [Y/N], and this is my assistant..." you gestured to the Dancer, who spluttered indignantly, "...the Dancer."

The tourists murmured excitedly, snapping pictures with reckless abandon.

"Now," you continued smoothly, "who wants to see some authentic, untouched Zetan rock formations?"

As you led the group away from the TARDIS, the Dancer fell into step beside you. "Assistant?" he hissed, but you could see he was fighting back a grin. "I'll have you know I have at least twelve Ph.D.s!"

You smirked. "Yes, but do you have one in Zetan geology?"

"Well, no, but-"

"Then hush and look pretty, assistant."

The Dancer's eyes crinkled with mirth. "You know, [Y/N], I think I'm starting to understand why my future self is so fond of you."

For the next hour, you improvised a tour of the barren landscape, drawing on every scrap of archaeological knowledge you possessed to spin wild tales about the planet's 'history'. The Dancer, for his part, alternated between adding 'helpful' comments and watching you with undisguised admiration.

"And here," you said grandly, gesturing to a perfectly ordinary rock, "we see the fossilized remains of the great Zetan Slime Beast. Legend has it, its roar could be heard across three solar systems!"

"Actually," the Dancer piped up, unable to help himself, "the Zetan Slime Beast was more of a gurgler. Didn't have vocal cords, you see. Communicated entirely through bubbles."

You shot him a look that could have curdled milk. "Thank you, *assistant*, for that fascinating tidbit. Moving on!"

The Dancer's shoulders shook with silent laughter, and you could see he was thoroughly enjoying your impromptu performance.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of avoiding paradoxes and making up increasingly outlandish 'facts', you managed to shepherd the tourists back to their own time machine (a gaudy, neon-colored contraption that made the TARDIS look positively subtle in comparison).

As the last of them disappeared in a flash of light, you collapsed onto a nearby rock, groaning. "I think I just rewrote the entire geological history of this planet."

The Dancer sat down beside you, his eyes twinkling. "If it's any consolation, you did a bang-up job. I particularly enjoyed your description of the 'Great Temporal Shift of Eon 5', which apparently turned all the planet's oceans into grape jelly."

You buried your face in your hands. "Oh God, I did say that, didn't I? So much for preserving the timeline."

The Dancer chuckled, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. "Oh, don't worry. Time has a way of sorting itself out. Besides, I'm sure the real history of Zeta Minor is far stranger than anything you could have made up."

You peeked at him through your fingers. "Really?"

He nodded solemnly. "Oh yes. For instance, did you know that for a brief period, the entire planet was ruled by a sentient fungus with delusions of grandeur?"

You stared at him, trying to gauge if he was joking. His expression remained perfectly serious. "You're having me on."

A mischievous grin spread across his face. "Am I?"

You groaned, shoving him playfully. "You're impossible, you know that?"

"So I've been told," he replied cheerfully. "But admit it, you're enjoying this."

"I admit nothing," you said, but your smile betrayed you.

The Dancer's expression softened. "You know, [Y/N], I've had many companions over the years, but I must say, your particular brand of sarcasm is quite refreshing. It keeps me on my toes."

You felt a warmth spreading through your chest at his words. "Well, someone has to keep that ego of yours in check, Dancer."

He laughed, a full, hearty sound that made you smile even wider. "And I wouldn't have it any other way. Now, shall we get back to why we actually came here?"

You nodded, standing up and brushing off your clothes. "Right. Temporal anomalies. Though after that little adventure, I'm not sure my sense of time will ever be the same."

The Dancer waved his sonic screwdriver around, frowning at the readings. "Hmm, that's odd. The temporal flux seems to be concentrated... that way." He pointed towards the purple ocean.

You sighed, already resigned to the inevitable. "Let me guess. We're going to have to go for a swim?"

The Dancer's grin was positively maniacal. "Oh, it's much better than that. We're going diving!"

An hour later, clad in what the Dancer assured you was 'top-of-the-line aquatic gear' (which looked suspiciously like it had been cobbled together from bits of the TARDIS), you stood at the edge of a cliff, staring down at the roiling purple waves below.

"I just want to state, for the record," you said, your voice slightly muffled by the fishbowl-like helmet, "that this is a terrible idea."

The Dancer, similarly attired, bounced on his toes excitedly. "Nonsense! This is brilliant! We're about to dive into an alien ocean in search of temporal anomalies. Doesn't get much better than this!"

You turned to look at him, your expression deadpan. "You know, when I was in university, 'searching for temporal anomalies in alien oceans' wasn't exactly part of the archaeology curriculum."

The Dancer's eyes softened, filled with warmth and admiration. "And that, [Y/N], is precisely why you're here with me now. Your ability to adapt, to face the unknown with wit and grace... it's remarkable."

For a moment, you were speechless, touched by his sincerity. Then, covering your emotion with humor, you quipped, "Careful, Dancer. Keep talking like that, and I might start to think you actually like having me around."

He grinned, taking your hand. "Oh, [Y/N], I think it's far too late for that. Ready?"

Before you could protest further, he jumped, pulling you with him into the purple abyss below.

As you plummeted towards the alien ocean, a scream caught in your throat. Just before impact, you managed to yell, "I hate you!"

The Dancer's laughter echoed in your ears as you hit the water with a spectacular splash. "No, you don't!"

And as you sank into the strange, glowing depths of an alien sea, chasing time itself alongside a madman with a box, you had to admit... he was probably right. You wouldn't trade this for anything in the universe.

-

The purple waters of Zeta Minor engulfed you, a swirl of alien hues that would have been beautiful if you weren't busy trying not to panic. The Dancer's hand was still firmly clasped in yours as you both sank deeper into the ocean.

"Dancer," you said, your voice sounding tinny through the communication system in your helmet, "I hope you realize that if we die here, I'm going to haunt you for all of eternity."

The Dancer's laughter crackled through your earpiece. "Oh, [Y/N], always with the threats of supernatural vengeance. I'd expect nothing less."

As your eyes adjusted to the underwater environment, you gasped. The seascape before you was unlike anything you'd ever seen. Bioluminescent creatures drifted by, their bodies pulsing with otherworldly light. Strange, spiral-shaped structures that looked like a cross between coral and clockwork stretched as far as the eye could see.

"It's... beautiful," you breathed, momentarily forgetting your annoyance.

"Isn't it just?" the Dancer agreed, his voice soft with wonder. "Those spiral structures? They're actually living creatures. Chrono-coral, I call them. They feed on temporal energy."

You raised an eyebrow, even though you knew he couldn't see it through your helmet. "Chrono-coral? Really? Did you just make that up?"

"I'll have you know, [Y/N], that I am an expert in xenobiology," the Dancer huffed, but you could hear the smile in his voice.

"Right, and I'm the Queen of Sheba," you retorted.

"Well, Your Majesty, shall we explore your underwater kingdom?"

You rolled your eyes but couldn't suppress a grin. "Lead on, my faithful subject."

As you swam deeper, the Dancer's sonic screwdriver began to pulse with an increasingly urgent light.

"We're getting close to something," he said, his tone growing serious. "The temporal readings are off the charts."

Suddenly, a shadow passed overhead. You looked up to see a massive creature gliding by, its body translucent and shimmering with what looked like stars.

"Um, Dancer?" you said, your voice slightly higher than usual. "Please tell me that's just a very large, very friendly fish."

The Dancer's reply was frustratingly calm. "Not exactly. That, [Y/N], is a Chronovore. It's a creature that exists outside of time, feeding on temporal energy."

"Lovely," you muttered. "And I don't suppose it's vegetarian?"

"Well, not in the traditional sense, no."

"Fantastic. So we're basically swimming around in a cosmic buffet."

The Dancer chuckled. "Look on the bright side, [Y/N]. At least if it eats us, we'll have a fascinating new perspective on digestion through time."

You groaned. "Your optimism is really not helping right now, Dancer."

As if sensing your conversation, the Chronovore turned, its starry eyes fixing on you both.

"Don't move," the Dancer whispered urgently. "It's attracted to temporal disturbances."

"You mean like the ones your sonic screwdriver has been making?" you hissed back.

There was a pause. "Ah. Yes. Well, in hindsight, perhaps I should have considered that."

"You think?"

The Chronovore started to drift towards you, its movement deceptively slow but inexorable.

"Dancer," you said, trying to keep your voice steady, "please tell me you have a plan."

"Of course I have a plan," he replied, sounding mildly offended. "It's an excellent plan. A brilliant plan, even."

"And this plan is...?"

"Swimming very, very fast in the opposite direction."

Before you could respond with a suitably sarcastic comment, the Dancer grabbed your hand and took off, pulling you along as he swam with surprising speed. The Chronovore, apparently not keen on letting its meal escape, gave chase.

As you zigzagged through the chrono-coral forest, narrowly avoiding becoming cosmic creature food, you couldn't help but laugh at the absurdity of the situation.

"You know," you panted, "when I was a little girl dreaming of becoming an archaeologist, somehow this scenario never came up in my career planning."

The Dancer's laughter joined yours. "Oh, [Y/N], where's your sense of adventure? This is living history!"

"Pretty sure 'living' is the operative word there, Dancer. I'd like to keep doing it, if possible!"

Just as it seemed the Chronovore was about to catch up, you spotted a narrow crevice in the ocean floor. "Dancer, there!" you shouted, pointing.

Understanding immediately, the Dancer changed course, pulling you towards the opening. You both squeezed through just as the Chronovore lunged, its massive body colliding with the rock face above you.

For a moment, all was quiet except for the sound of your heavy breathing. Then, the Dancer spoke.

"Well," he said cheerfully, "that was invigorating, wasn't it?"

You turned to stare at him, incredulous. "Invigorating? We nearly became a temporal snack, and you call it invigorating?"

The Dancer's grin was visible even through his helmet. "Oh, come on, [Y/N]. Admit it. You're enjoying this."

You tried to maintain your glare, but found yourself smiling despite your best efforts. "You're absolutely mad, you know that?"

"Mad? Me? Never. Well, maybe a little. But you like it."

You sighed dramatically. "I suppose someone has to keep an eye on you. For the sake of the universe, of course."

"Of course," the Dancer agreed solemnly, before breaking into another grin. "Now, shall we see where this little hidey-hole leads us? I have a feeling we're about to stumble onto something big."

As you both began to swim deeper into the underwater cave, you couldn't help but shake your head in fond exasperation. "Dancer, with you, I have a feeling everything is about to be 'something big'."

"Would you have it any other way?" he asked, his voice warm with affection.

You smiled, even though he couldn't see it. "Not for all the tea in China."

And so, with the threat of being devoured temporarily averted, you continued your underwater adventure, bickering and bantering your way towards whatever temporal mystery awaited you in the depths of Zeta Minor.

-

As you and the Dancer swam deeper into the underwater cave, the bioluminescent creatures around you seemed to pulse in sync, creating an otherworldly light show. You couldn't help but be mesmerized by the beauty of it all, almost forgetting the danger you'd just escaped.

"It's breathtaking," you murmured, your voice soft with awe.

The Dancer turned to look at you, and even through the helmet, you could see the warmth in his eyes. "Yes, it is," he agreed, and you had a feeling he wasn't just talking about the scenery.

You felt a flutter in your stomach that had nothing to do with the alien environment. Quickly, you deflected with humor. "Well, don't get too comfortable. Knowing our luck, these pretty lights are probably the lure of some giant, time-eating angler fish."

The Dancer chuckled. "Always the optimist, aren't you, [Y/N]? But I suppose that's why I-- why we make such a good team."

You raised an eyebrow at his slip, but before you could comment, the Dancer's sonic screwdriver began to pulse urgently.

"Oh, now this is interesting," he said, his voice taking on that excited tone that usually meant you were about to be running for your life. Again.

"Define 'interesting'," you said warily.

The Dancer's grin was visible even through his helmet. "Well, it seems we've stumbled upon a pocket of concentrated temporal energy. It's like... well, imagine a whirlpool, but instead of water, it's swirling time itself."

You groaned. "Let me guess. We're going to swim right into it, aren't we?"

"Of course we are! Where's your sense of adventure?"

"I think I left it back on dry land, along with my common sense," you muttered, but you couldn't help the fond smile that crept onto your face.

As you approached the temporal whirlpool, you could feel a strange tugging sensation, as if your very atoms were being pulled in different directions.

"Dancer," you said, a hint of worry creeping into your voice, "is this safe?"

For a moment, the Dancer's confident facade slipped, and you saw a flash of vulnerability in his eyes. "To be honest, [Y/N], I'm not entirely sure. But I promise you, I won't let anything happen to you. You're too important to me... to the timeline, I mean."

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, and you found yourself wondering, not for the first time, about the future version of yourself that the Dancer knew. The one he had married. What had she done to capture the heart of this incredible, impossible man?

Before you could dwell on it further, the Dancer took your hand. "Ready?" he asked, his voice soft.

You squeezed his hand, pushing down your nervousness. "With you? Always."

Together, you swam into the swirling vortex of time. The world around you exploded into a kaleidoscope of colors and sensations. You felt like you were being pulled apart and put back together, experiencing a thousand lifetimes in the span of a heartbeat.

Suddenly, you were no longer in the underwater cave. You found yourself standing in a lush garden, the air filled with the scent of flowers you'd never seen before. The Dancer stood beside you, looking as disoriented as you felt.

"Well," he said, running a hand through his hair, "that was... unexpected."

You looked down at yourself, relieved to see that you were no longer in the diving suit. Instead, you were wearing a flowing dress that seemed to shimmer with starlight. The Dancer, you noticed with amusement, was wearing his usual eccentric outfit.

"Dancer," you said slowly, "where are we? When are we?"

He pulled out his sonic screwdriver, frowning at the readings. "If I'm not mistaken, and I rarely am, we're on the planet Karass Don, sometime in its golden age. It was known as the Garden World, home to some of the most beautiful and dangerous plants in the universe."

You took a cautious step back from a nearby flower that seemed to be eyeing you hungrily. "Lovely. And how exactly did we end up here?"

The Dancer's frown deepened. "The temporal whirlpool must have acted as a sort of... cosmic transporter. Fascinating, really. I've never seen anything quite like it."

You couldn't help but laugh. "Only you would find being flung across time and space 'fascinating'."

He grinned at you, that boyish, excited grin that never failed to make your heart race. "Oh, come on, [Y/N]. Where's your sense of wonder?"

"Probably back in that underwater cave with my common sense," you retorted, but you were smiling too.

As you both began to explore the garden, you found yourself hyper-aware of the Dancer's presence beside you. The way he gesticulated wildly as he explained the properties of various alien plants, the sparkle in his eyes when he discovered something new, the gentle way he guided you away from the more dangerous flora.

You tried to push down the growing feelings in your chest. After all, this was the Dancer -- a time-traveling alien who had already lived through a future where you were married. How could you possibly measure up to a future version of yourself?

The Dancer, for his part, seemed to be struggling with his own internal battle. Every now and then, you'd catch him looking at you with an expression of such tenderness that it took your breath away. But then he'd quickly look away, launching into another explanation about the local plant life.

As you walked, you came across a clearing filled with flowers that looked like they were made of crystal. They chimed softly in the breeze, creating an ethereal melody.

"Oh, [Y/N]," the Dancer breathed, his eyes wide with wonder. "These are Chrono Lilies. They're incredibly rare. They only bloom once every thousand years, and their song is said to reveal echoes of the past and future."

You stepped closer, mesmerized by their beauty. "They're incredible," you murmured.

Suddenly, one of the lilies chimed loudly, and you found yourself enveloped in a swirl of images. You saw flashes of adventures yet to come -- running hand in hand with the Dancer through alien marketplaces, dancing under twin moons, facing down terrifying monsters with nothing but wit and a sonic screwdriver.

And then you saw something that made your heart stop. It was you and the Dancer, older but unmistakable, standing in front of the TARDIS. You were wearing a white dress, he was in a dapper suit, and you were both beaming as you leaned in for a kiss.

The vision faded as quickly as it had come, leaving you gasping and disoriented.

"[Y/N]?" the Dancer's concerned voice broke through your daze. "Are you alright? What did you see?"

You looked up at him, your mind reeling. How could you tell him that you'd just seen your own wedding day?

"I... I'm not sure," you lied, forcing a smile. "It was all a bit of a blur. Timey-wimey stuff, you know?"

The Dancer studied you for a moment, and you had the uncomfortable feeling that he could see right through your deception. But then he smiled, squeezing your hand gently.

"Yes, well, time can be a tricky thing. Best not to dwell too much on what we might have seen. The future's not set in stone, after all."

You nodded, grateful for his understanding. But as you continued your exploration of the garden, you couldn't shake the image of that future wedding from your mind. Was that really your destiny? To marry this wonderful, infuriating, impossible man?

The Dancer, too, seemed lost in thought. You caught him watching you with a wistful expression, only to quickly look away when you noticed.

Finally, unable to bear the tension any longer, you decided to break it with humor. "You know, Dancer, if you keep staring at me like that, I might start to think you're falling for me. Imagine how awkward that would be for your future wife."

The Dancer spluttered, his face turning an adorable shade of red. "I... that's not... I mean, I wasn't..."

You laughed, enjoying his flustered state. "Relax, Dancer. I'm just teasing. Although, I have to say, for someone who's supposedly already married to me in the future, you're awfully shy about it."

The Dancer's expression softened, and he looked at you with such tenderness that it made your heart ache. "Oh, [Y/N]," he said softly. "You have no idea how difficult this is for me. Knowing what I know, feeling what I feel, but not wanting to influence the timeline."

You stepped closer to him, your teasing mood fading. "Then tell me," you said quietly. "Help me understand."

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "It's... complicated. The you I know in the future, she's... well, she's you, but she's also shaped by all the adventures we've had, all the challenges we've faced together. I look at you now, and I see echoes of her, but I also see someone who's still discovering who they are."

You nodded, understanding dawning. "And you're afraid that if you tell me too much, you'll change the course of our relationship."

"Exactly," he said, looking relieved that you understood. "Time is a delicate thing, [Y/N]. The slightest change can have enormous consequences."

You couldn't help but smile. "Well, for what it's worth, I think you're doing a pretty good job of being mysterious and infuriating."

The Dancer laughed, the tension between you easing. "Why, thank you. I do try my best."

As you both chuckled, a sudden rumbling shook the ground beneath your feet. The Dancer's expression turned serious as he pulled out his sonic screwdriver.

"Oh, that's not good," he muttered, frowning at the readings.

"Let me guess," you said dryly. "We're about to be in mortal peril again?"

The Dancer grinned, despite the danger. "Oh, [Y/N], you know me so well."

As if on cue, the ground split open, revealing a massive, plant-like creature with teeth the size of your arm.

"Run?" you suggested, already backing away.

"Run," the Dancer agreed, grabbing your hand.

As you both took off through the garden, dodging snapping plants and leaping over chasms, you couldn't help but laugh. This was madness, pure and simple. You were running for your life on an alien planet, hand in hand with a man you were apparently destined to marry, being chased by a carnivorous plant the size of a house.

And yet, you wouldn't have it any other way.

"You know," you panted as you ran, "most couples go on dinner dates. Maybe catch a movie. But no, we have to do our courtship while running from certain death."

The Dancer laughed, his hand warm in yours. "Oh, [Y/N], where would be the fun in that?"

As you raced towards what you hoped was safety, the future stretching out before you like an unwritten book, you realized something. Whatever happened, whatever challenges you faced, you and the Dancer would face them together. And really, that was all that mattered.

The rest, as they say, was history. Or perhaps, in your case, it was the future.

-

As you and the Dancer raced through the alien garden, dodging snapping plants and leaping over suddenly appearing chasms, you couldn't help but laugh at the absurdity of it all. Here you were, an archaeologist by training, running for your life on a planet light-years from Earth, hand in hand with a time-traveling alien who claimed to be your future husband.

"You know," you panted as you ran, "I'm starting to think that 'run for your life' is your idea of a romantic date!"

The Dancer grinned back at you, his hair wild and his eyes sparkling with exhilaration. "Oh, come now, [Y/N]! Where's your sense of adventure? Besides, I'll have you know that in some cultures, narrowly escaping death together is considered a formal marriage proposal!"

You nearly tripped over your own feet at that comment. "I– what? Are you saying we're engaged now?"

The Dancer's face flushed, and he suddenly became very interested in the path ahead. "Well, no, not exactly. I mean, unless you want to be. But then again, we're already married in the future, so maybe we're past engagement? Or is it pre-engagement? Time travel makes tenses so complicated!"

Before you could formulate a response to that bewildering statement, the ground beneath your feet began to shimmer and shift. The lush garden scenery started to fade away like mist in the morning sun.

"Oh, not again," you groaned, tightening your grip on the Dancer's hand.

"Hold on tight!" the Dancer shouted, pulling out his sonic screwdriver with his free hand. "We're shifting through the temporal vortex!"

The world around you dissolved into a swirl of colors and sensations. For a moment, you felt like you were everywhere and nowhere at once, your very atoms scattered across time and space. Then, with a sudden jolt, reality reasserted itself.

You found yourself back in the purple ocean of Zeta Minor, still holding the Dancer's hand. The chrono-coral surrounded you, pulsing with an otherworldly light.

"Well," you said, your voice sounding tinny through the communication system in your helmet, "I guess the universe decided we needed a cool-down swim after all that running."

The Dancer chuckled, the sound crackling through your earpiece. "Indeed! Though I must say, I'm rather fond of the running. Especially with you."

You felt your cheeks warm at his words, and you were glad the helmet hid your blush. To cover your momentary fluster, you decided to address the aquatic elephant in the room.

"Speaking of swimming," you said, "I've been meaning to ask. How exactly are we able to breathe and talk so easily underwater? I'm pretty sure the gear you cobbled together from TARDIS parts shouldn't be this effective."

The Dancer's eyes widened in that way they did when he realized he'd forgotten to explain something important. "Ah, yes! I suppose I did forget to mention that little detail. You see, when we first arrived on Zeta Minor, I took the liberty of injecting us both with a specially engineered nano-respiratory system."

You stared at him, momentarily speechless. "You... injected me? Without telling me?"

The Dancer had the grace to look sheepish. "Well, yes. It was a bit of a rush, what with the impending dive and all. I assure you, it's perfectly safe! The nanobots create a micro-bubble of breathable atmosphere around us, filtering oxygen from the water and removing carbon dioxide. They also assist in pressure equalization, preventing the bends and other nasty deep-sea diving side effects."

You pinched the bridge of your nose, a gesture made awkward by the helmet. "Dancer, we really need to have a talk about informed consent and not injecting people with things without their knowledge."

"Noted," the Dancer said, looking properly chastised. "I promise to ask permission next time before injecting you with potentially life-saving nanobots."

"There's a sentence I never thought I'd hear," you muttered. "Alright, moving on. Where are we, and why did we suddenly pop back here from the Garden World?"

The Dancer's expression turned serious as he consulted his sonic screwdriver. "If I'm reading this correctly, and I always am... well, nearly always... we've been caught in a temporal riptide. The time vortex is particularly turbulent in this area, creating unpredictable jumps through time and space."

"Fantastic," you said dryly. "So we're basically caught in a time storm? Any chance of getting back to the TARDIS?"

The Dancer's brow furrowed in concentration. "It's not that simple, I'm afraid. The TARDIS is designed to navigate the time vortex, but these temporal riptides are like... well, imagine trying to sail a ship through a maelstrom where the water is made of timelines instead of H2O."

You couldn't help but smile at his analogy. "Always with the water metaphors. You know, for someone who claims to be 'not a water person', you certainly seem to get us into a lot of aquatic adventures."

The Dancer grinned back at you. "What can I say? You bring out the explorer in me. Now, let's see if we can find a way to stabilize our temporal position."

As you both swam through the chrono-coral forest, you couldn't help but reflect on the bizarre turn your life had taken. A few days ago, your biggest concern had been securing funding for your next dig. Now, you were swimming through an alien ocean, trying to navigate temporal riptides with a man who was simultaneously a stranger and your future husband.

"Penny for your thoughts?" the Dancer's voice broke through your reverie.

You chuckled. "Oh, just contemplating the strange turns life takes. You know, when I was studying archaeology, I always dreamed of uncovering lost civilizations, piecing together the stories of ancient peoples. I never imagined I'd be creating those stories myself, traveling through time and space."

The Dancer's voice softened. "Do you regret it? Coming with me, I mean."

You turned to look at him, seeing the vulnerability in his eyes. "Not for a second," you said firmly. "It's terrifying and exhilarating and utterly mad, but I wouldn't trade it for anything."

The Dancer's smile was bright enough to illuminate the ocean. "I'm glad. Because I– look out!"

His sudden shout was accompanied by a sharp tug on your arm as he pulled you behind a large piece of chrono-coral. A moment later, a massive shape swam by – the Chronovore you'd encountered earlier.

"That was close," you whispered, your heart pounding. "I thought we'd lost that thing."

"Temporal riptides affect all creatures in the area," the Dancer explained quietly. "It must have been pulled back here just like us."

As you watched the Chronovore glide away, its body shimmering with what looked like stars, a thought occurred to you. "Dancer, you said these Chronovores feed on temporal energy, right?"

"Yes, that's correct. Why do you ask?"

You bit your lip, an idea forming. "Well, we're caught in a temporal riptide, which I assume is full of temporal energy. What if we could... I don't know, use the Chronovore somehow? Like a temporal bloodhound?"

The Dancer's eyes widened, a grin spreading across his face. "Oh, [Y/N], you brilliant, brilliant human! That's exactly the kind of out-of-the-box thinking we need!"

You felt a warmth spread through your chest at his praise. "So you think it could work?"

"It's risky," the Dancer admitted, "but it just might be crazy enough to succeed. If we can attract the Chronovore's attention and then lead it towards the epicenter of the temporal disturbance, we might be able to ride in its wake, so to speak."

"Great," you said, your voice dripping with sarcasm. "And how exactly do we attract the attention of a time-eating monster without becoming its lunch?"

The Dancer's grin turned mischievous. "Oh, I have just the thing. Remember those nanobots I mentioned earlier? Well, they have another fascinating feature. They can emit a low-level temporal field, mimicking the energy of the time vortex."

You raised an eyebrow. "Let me get this straight. You want us to basically ring the dinner bell for a creature that eats time itself, and then try to hitch a ride on it through a temporal storm?"

"Exactly!" the Dancer beamed. "Brilliant plan, isn't it?"

You couldn't help but laugh. "You know, most people would call that a suicidal plan. But I suppose with you, it's just Tuesday."

"That's the spirit!" the Dancer said, already fiddling with his sonic screwdriver. "Now, when I activate this, be ready to swim faster than you've ever swum before."

As the Dancer pointed his screwdriver at you, activating whatever temporal beacon was hidden in the nanobots coursing through your body, you felt a strange tingling sensation. A moment later, the water around you began to glow with an eerie, golden light.

"Uh, Dancer?" you said nervously. "Is this supposed to happen?"

Before he could answer, a roar that seemed to shake the very fabric of reality echoed through the water. The Chronovore had noticed you.

"Swim!" the Dancer yelled, grabbing your hand.

As you both took off through the chrono-coral forest, the massive form of the Chronovore hot on your heels, you couldn't help but reflect on the absurdity of your situation. Here you were, an archaeologist turned time traveler, swimming for your life in an alien ocean, being chased by a creature that ate time itself, all while holding hands with a man who claimed to be your future husband.

And the strangest part? You were loving every second of it.

"You know," you panted as you swam, "when this is all over, I'm going to need a very long vacation. Preferably somewhere with no water, no time-eating monsters, and definitely no temporal riptides."

The Dancer laughed, the sound bright and joyous despite the danger. "Oh, [Y/N], where would be the fun in that? But if it's a vacation you want, I know this lovely little planet where the beaches are made of singing crystals and the sun never sets."

"Sounds perfect," you replied, your voice warm with affection. "It's a date."

As you raced through the water, the Chronovore gaining on you with every passing moment, you felt a shift in the currents around you. The water began to swirl, forming a vortex that pulsed with temporal energy.

"This is it!" the Dancer shouted. "The eye of the temporal storm! Hold on tight!"

You gripped the Dancer's hand tighter as the vortex pulled you in. The last thing you saw before the world dissolved into a kaleidoscope of time and space was the massive form of the Chronovore, its starry eyes fixed on you with what almost looked like respect.

Then you were spinning, tumbling through the time vortex, holding onto the Dancer like he was your only anchor in the storm of reality. In that moment, suspended between heartbeats and stretched across eons, you realized something profound.

No matter where or when you ended up, as long as your hand was in the Dancer's, you were home.

The vortex spun faster, reality bending and twisting around you. And as you hurtled towards your next adventure, you couldn't help but smile. After all, this was just another day in the life of an archaeologist turned time traveler.

-

The temporal vortex spat you out unceremoniously, depositing you and the Dancer onto a cold, metallic floor. For a moment, you lay there, trying to convince your stomach that it was, in fact, still inside your body.

"Well," you groaned, slowly pushing yourself up, "that was about as much fun as a roller coaster designed by a sadistic quantum physicist."

The Dancer sprang to his feet with infuriating energy, offering you a hand up. "Oh, come now, [Y/N]! Where's your sense of adventure? That was exhilarating!"

You took his hand, allowing him to pull you up, and definitely not noticing how perfectly your hand fit in his. "I think I left my sense of adventure somewhere between the carnivorous plants and the time-eating space whale, thank you very much."

As you looked around, you realized you were in some sort of control room. Sleek, futuristic consoles lined the walls, displaying readouts in a language you didn't recognize. Through a large viewing window, you could see the swirling purple oceans of Zeta Minor.

"Dancer," you said slowly, "where exactly are we?"

The Dancer was already examining the nearest console, his sonic screwdriver whirring as he scanned the alien tech. "If I'm not mistaken, and I rarely am... well, there was that one time on Clom, but in my defense, it's very easy to mistake a Absorbaloff for a particularly ugly statue... Anyway! If I'm not mistaken, we're on board the flagship of the Temporal Marauders."

Your eyes widened. "The time pirates? The ones after the Chronos Key?"

"The very same," the Dancer confirmed, his expression grim. "It seems our little jaunt through the temporal riptides has landed us right in the proverbial lion's den."

You couldn't help but chuckle. "You know, most people try to avoid the lion's den. But with you, it's like we have a standing reservation."

The Dancer grinned, but before he could respond, a door at the far end of the room slid open. In strode a figure that could only be described as the personification of 'space pirate'. Tall and imposing, with skin that shimmered like oil on water, and eyes that glowed with an inner light. A cape that seemed to be made of solidified shadows billowed behind them.

"Well, well, well," the figure said, their voice a discordant melody that sent shivers down your spine. "What have we here? The famous Dancer and his little human pet."

You bristled at being called a 'pet', but the Dancer stepped forward, placing himself slightly in front of you. "Captain Chronos, I presume? I'd say it's a pleasure, but I try not to lie to megalomaniacal time pirates. Bad for the digestion, you know."

Captain Chronos laughed, a sound like breaking glass. "Oh, Dancer. Your reputation for wit precedes you. But I'm afraid it won't save you this time. You have something I want."

The Dancer's hand went to his pocket, where you knew he kept the Chronos Key. "Now, now, Captain. Didn't your mother ever teach you to say please?"

"Hand over the Chronos Key," Captain Chronos demanded, ignoring the Dancer's quip, "or I'll be forced to take more... drastic measures."

As if on cue, a dozen heavily armed guards filed into the room, their weapons trained on you and the Dancer.

"You know," you muttered to the Dancer, "just once, I'd like to meet an alien who wants to sit down for a nice cup of tea instead of threatening us with 'drastic measures'."

The Dancer chuckled. "Where would be the fun in that?"

Captain Chronos strode forward, hand outstretched. "The Key, Dancer. Now."

You watched as the Dancer's mind raced, clearly trying to find a way out of this situation. Suddenly, an idea struck you. It was crazy, possibly suicidal, but then again, that seemed to be par for the course with the Dancer.

"Wait!" you called out, stepping forward. "Before you do anything rash, don't you want to know what the Chronos Key actually does?"

Captain Chronos paused, their glowing eyes fixed on you. "Explain."

You took a deep breath, channeling every ounce of your archaeological training. "The Chronos Key isn't just a key in the traditional sense. It's a complex temporal artifact, created by an ancient race known as the Chronarchs."

The Dancer shot you a surprised look, but quickly caught on. "Oh yes," he chimed in. "The Chronarchs. Fascinating people. Bit obsessed with punctuality, but they did make a mean temporal soufflé."

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes at the Dancer's addition. "The point is," you continued, "the Key isn't just about opening the Epoch Engine. It's a test."

Captain Chronos's eyes narrowed. "A test? What kind of test?"

"A test of worthiness," you improvised, drawing on your knowledge of ancient cultures and their love for elaborate trials. "The Chronarchs believed that only someone who truly understood the nature of time should wield the power of the Epoch Engine."

The Dancer nodded enthusiastically. "Oh yes, quite right. Very perceptive of you, [Y/N]. The Chronarchs were big on tests. Couldn't even pop out for milk without solving at least three temporal riddles."

Captain Chronos seemed intrigued despite themselves. "And what does this... test entail?"

You smiled, warming to your tale. "The Key must be activated in a specific sequence, aligning with the great Time Cycles of the universe. Get it wrong, and... well, let's just say the results would be temporally catastrophic."

"Quite right," the Dancer added. "Last fellow who got it wrong ended up as his own grandfather. Made family reunions terribly awkward."

Captain Chronos frowned, clearly weighing your words. "And I suppose you know this activation sequence?"

You exchanged a glance with the Dancer. "We've... deciphered parts of it. From ancient texts. But it's incredibly complex. One wrong move and you could unravel the very fabric of time itself."

For a long moment, Captain Chronos stared at you, their glowing eyes seeming to pierce right through you. Then, to your immense relief, they laughed.

"Well played, little archaeologist," they said, a note of grudging respect in their voice. "I can see why the Dancer keeps you around. Very well, you've piqued my curiosity. Show me this activation sequence."

The Dancer pulled the Chronos Key from his pocket, shooting you a look that clearly said 'I hope you know what you're doing'. You gave him a small nod, your mind racing to come up with a convincing 'activation sequence'.

"Right then," you said, taking the Key from the Dancer. "First, we need to align the temporal nodules with the celestial constants."

You began to manipulate the Key, which thankfully had enough moving parts to make your actions look purposeful. As you 'worked', you spouted a stream of pseudo-scientific babble that would have made your archaeology professors weep.

"Now, we need to calibrate the chrono-flux to match the resonant frequency of the local time stream," you continued, marveling at how easily the technobabble flowed. You were starting to sound like the Dancer.

Captain Chronos watched intently, their crew leaning in with fascination. Even the Dancer looked impressed, though you caught a twinkle in his eye that told you he was thoroughly enjoying your performance.

As you neared the end of your improvised sequence, you felt a change in the air. A low hum began to emanate from the Key, growing in intensity.

"Uh, Dancer?" you whispered, suddenly nervous. "Is it supposed to do that?"

The Dancer's eyes widened. "Oh, you clever, clever thing," he breathed. "You've actually activated it!"

Before you could process what that meant, the Key began to glow with an intense golden light. Captain Chronos stepped forward, their face alight with triumph.

"Yes!" they cried. "The power of the Epoch Engine will be mine!"

"I wouldn't be so sure about that," the Dancer said, grinning madly. "You see, Captain, my brilliant friend here didn't just activate the Key. She keyed it to her own temporal signature!"

You stared at the Dancer in shock. "I did what now?"

But there was no time for explanations. The golden light from the Key expanded, enveloping you and the Dancer. You felt a tugging sensation, as if reality itself was bending around you.

"No!" Captain Chronos screamed, lunging forward. But it was too late.

In a flash of golden light, you and the Dancer vanished from the Temporal Marauders' ship. The last thing you heard was Captain Chronos's howl of rage, cut off as abruptly as changing a radio station.

You rematerialized in the familiar confines of the TARDIS, stumbling slightly as your feet hit solid ground. The Chronos Key fell from your hand, its glow fading as it clattered to the floor.

For a moment, there was silence. Then the Dancer let out a whoop of joy, sweeping you up in an exuberant hug.

"Oh, [Y/N], you were brilliant!" he exclaimed, spinning you around. "Absolutely brilliant! The way you outsmarted Captain Chronos, the improvised activation sequence... Oh, I could kiss you!"

You laughed, dizzy from the spin and the adrenaline of your narrow escape. "Well, what's stopping you?"

The words were out of your mouth before you could think better of them. The Dancer froze, his arms still around you, his eyes wide with surprise.

For a heartbeat, neither of you moved. Then, slowly, the Dancer's expression softened. He brought one hand up to cup your cheek, his touch impossibly gentle.

"[Y/N]," he murmured, his voice low and filled with an emotion you couldn't quite name. "My clever, brave, beautiful [Y/N]."

And then he was kissing you, and all thoughts of time pirates and ancient artifacts and the complexities of temporal mechanics flew out of your head. The kiss was soft and sweet and tasted faintly of stardust. It felt like coming home and embarking on a grand adventure all at once.

When you finally parted, both slightly breathless, you couldn't help but grin. "Well," you said, your voice a bit shaky, "if I'd known that was my reward for outsmarting time pirates, I'd have done it ages ago."

The Dancer laughed, resting his forehead against yours. "Oh, [Y/N]. You never cease to amaze me."

As you stood there in the Dancer's arms, the gentle hum of the TARDIS surrounding you, you felt a sense of rightness settle over you. This mad, wonderful, impossible man was your future, and you couldn't wait to see where your journey together would take you next.

"So," you said, a mischievous glint in your eye, "about that planet with the singing crystal beaches..."

The Dancer grinned, already moving to the TARDIS console. "Your wish is my command, my dear. One beach holiday coming right up! Unless, of course, we get sidetracked by a distress signal from a sentient nebula, or stumble upon a colony of space Vikings, or-"

You laughed, cutting him off. "With you, Dancer, I've learned to expect the unexpected. And you know what? I wouldn't have it any other way."

As the TARDIS dematerialized, setting off for your next adventure, you couldn't help but reflect on how much your life had changed. From a simple archaeologist to a time-traveling hero, outsmarting space pirates and saving the universe.

And to think, it all started with a mysterious artifact and a mad man with a box.

You wouldn't change a single moment of it.

-

The TARDIS materialized with its characteristic wheezing groan, the blue box solidifying on a cliff overlooking a vast, shimmering ocean. As you stepped out, your breath caught in your throat. Twin suns hung low on the horizon, painting the sky in breathtaking shades of lavender and gold.

"Welcome to Harmony," the Dancer said softly, coming to stand beside you. "Home of the singing crystal beaches I promised you."

You turned to him, a smile playing on your lips. "No distress signals from sentient nebulae? No space Vikings?"

He chuckled, taking your hand. "Not today. I thought we deserved a bit of peace after our run-in with the Temporal Marauders."

As you made your way down to the beach, the crystals beneath your feet began to sing, a haunting melody that seemed to resonate with the very core of your being. You walked in comfortable silence, both lost in thought about the adventures you'd shared and the kiss you'd exchanged.

Finally, you broke the silence. "Dancer, what are we going to do about the Chronos Key and the Epoch Engine? We can't just leave them for someone else to find."

The Dancer's expression turned serious. "You're right, of course. The Epoch Engine is far too dangerous to leave intact. But destroying it could have catastrophic consequences for the timeline."

You nodded, your mind already racing with possibilities. "What if we didn't destroy it, but neutralized it somehow? Made it inert?"

The Dancer's eyes lit up. "Oh, [Y/N], you brilliant thing! That's it exactly! We could use the Chronos Key to lock the Epoch Engine in a temporal stasis field. It would still exist, preserving the timeline, but it would be completely inaccessible."

You grinned, feeling a rush of excitement. "So, one last adventure before our beach holiday?"

"I thought you'd never ask," the Dancer replied, already turning back towards the TARDIS.

The next few hours were a whirlwind of activity. Using the TARDIS, you and the Dancer traced the temporal signature of the Epoch Engine to a hidden space station orbiting a collapsed star. Getting past the station's defenses required all of your combined wit and ingenuity, not to mention a fair bit of running.

Finally, you stood before the Epoch Engine itself. It was a massive, pulsing orb of energy, swirling with colors you had no names for.

"Beautiful," you breathed, awed despite the danger.

"And terrible," the Dancer added grimly. "With this, someone could rewrite all of history. Erase entire civilizations as if they never existed."

You squared your shoulders, determination setting in. "Then let's make sure that never happens."

Working together, you and the Dancer used the Chronos Key to create an intricate web of temporal energy around the Epoch Engine. It was delicate work, requiring precise calculations and split-second timing. One wrong move could unravel the fabric of time itself.

As you worked, you couldn't help but marvel at how in sync you and the Dancer had become. You anticipated each other's moves, communicated with just a glance or a gesture. It felt right, like you'd been doing this forever.

Finally, with a surge of golden light, the stasis field snapped into place. The Epoch Engine's pulsing slowed, then stopped entirely, frozen in a single moment of time.

"We did it," you said, barely able to believe it.

The Dancer turned to you, his face split in a wide grin. "We did indeed. You were magnificent, [Y/N]. Absolutely magnificent."

Before you could respond, alarms began blaring throughout the station.

"Ah," the Dancer said, grabbing your hand. "I think that's our cue to leave."

You laughed as you both sprinted back to the TARDIS, dodging security drones and leaping over closing bulkheads. It was madness, pure and simple, but you wouldn't have it any other way.

As the TARDIS dematerialized, leaving the space station and the now-harmless Epoch Engine behind, you felt a mix of triumph and melancholy wash over you. You'd saved the universe (again), but you knew your time with the Dancer was coming to an end. At least for now.

The Dancer seemed to sense your mood. He came to stand beside you at the TARDIS console, his expression soft. "You know," he said gently, "I could take you on more adventures. Show you the rings of Akhaten, or the glass pyramids of San Kloon. Time machine, remember? I could have you back five minutes after we left."

You smiled, touched by the offer. "I know you could. And part of me wants nothing more than to keep traveling with you forever. But..."

"But you have a life to get back to," the Dancer finished, understanding in his eyes. "A promising career in archaeology, a whole future ahead of you."

You nodded, feeling tears prick at the corners of your eyes. "Besides," you added, trying to lighten the mood, "I have a feeling this isn't really goodbye. Not for us."

The Dancer's smile was bittersweet. "No, I suppose it isn't. But I will miss this version of you, [Y/N]. The you who's still discovering the wonders of the universe."

You reached up, cupping his cheek gently. "And I'll miss this you. But I'm looking forward to all the versions of you I have yet to meet."

He leaned into your touch, his eyes closing briefly. When he opened them again, there was a mischievous glint there. "Well then, Dr. [Y/N], I believe I owe you a proper beach holiday before I take you home."

You laughed, the melancholy moment broken. "I believe you do, Dancer. Lead the way!"

The next few days (or was it weeks? Time was a funny thing in the TARDIS) were a blur of crystal beaches, alien markets, and quiet moments watching distant stars be born. You treasured every second, committing each adventure to memory.

But all too soon, it was time to go home. The TARDIS materialized in your flat, mere hours after you'd first left with the Dancer.

As you stood in the doorway of the TARDIS, neither of you quite ready to say goodbye, the Dancer suddenly snapped his fingers. "Oh! I almost forgot!" He rummaged in his pockets, finally producing a small, ornate key. "This is for you."

You took it, examining the intricate designs etched into its surface. "A TARDIS key?"

He nodded. "For the next time our paths cross. And they will cross, [Y/N]. I promise you that."

You clutched the key tightly, fighting back tears. "Thank you, Dancer. For everything."

He pulled you into a tight hug, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. "No, thank you, [Y/N]. You've reminded me why I keep doing this. The wonder, the joy of discovery... you've rekindled that in me."

As you reluctantly parted, the Dancer gave you one last, bright smile. "Until next time, Dr. [Y/N]. Try not to dig up any more universe-ending artifacts without me, eh?"

You laughed, wiping away a stray tear. "No promises, Dancer. You know me and trouble."

With one last wave, the Dancer closed the TARDIS doors. You watched as the blue box faded away, taking with it the man who had turned your world upside down in the best possible way.

For a moment, you stood there, half expecting to wake up and find it had all been a dream. But the weight of the TARDIS key in your hand grounded you, a tangible reminder of your adventures.

As you turned to reacquaint yourself with your flat, something on your desk caught your eye. It was an envelope that definitely hadn't been there before, your name written on it in an elegant, swirling script.

With trembling hands, you opened it, pulling out a single sheet of paper. The message was short, but it made your heart soar:

"My dearest [Y/N],

The universe is vast and time is long, but I will always find my way back to you. Our story is far from over.

Until our next hello,

The Dancer"

You clutched the letter to your chest, a smile spreading across your face. It wasn't goodbye, not really. It was just the beginning.

---

Years passed. You threw yourself into your work, making groundbreaking discoveries in archaeology that would have been impossible without your unique perspective on history. But you never forgot the Dancer, or the adventures you'd shared. The TARDIS key hung around your neck, a constant reminder of the life that waited for you among the stars.

And then, one ordinary Tuesday afternoon, you heard it. The unmistakable wheezing groan of the TARDIS materializing.

Your heart raced as you ran towards the sound, skidding to a stop as the familiar blue box solidified before you. But when the doors opened, the man who stepped out wasn't quite the Dancer you remembered.

He was younger, his face unlined, his eyes not yet carrying the weight of the universe. But it was undeniably him. The Dancer. Your Dancer, even if he didn't know it yet.

He looked around, confusion evident on his face, before his eyes landed on you. "Oh, hello there! I'm the Dancer. Terribly sorry, but I seem to have materialized in the wrong place. Again. You wouldn't happen to know where I am, would you?"

You couldn't help but smile, drinking in the sight of him. This younger version, not yet tempered by the adventures you'd share, but still unmistakably the man you'd fallen in love with across time and space.

"Hello, Dancer," you said warmly. "Don't worry, you're exactly where you need to be."

He tilted his head, studying you intently. There was a flicker of something in his eyes – confusion, certainly, but also a spark of attraction, of recognition that he couldn't quite place.

"Do I know you?" he asked, his brow furrowed. "You seem... familiar somehow."

Your smile widened, and you couldn't resist. "Spoilers," you said, your tone playful.

The Dancer's eyes widened at that, a mix of intrigue and excitement crossing his face. "Oh, now that is interesting. Very interesting indeed. Who are you?"

You stepped closer, enjoying the way his breath caught slightly. "I'm Dr. [Y/N], archaeologist extraordinaire and future... well, that would be telling, wouldn't it?"

The Dancer's grin was bright enough to outshine the sun. "Dr. [Y/N] the archaeologist, eh? Well then, I have a feeling you and I are going to have some fascinating adventures together."

"Oh, you have no idea," you replied, your voice full of promise.

As you both stepped into the TARDIS, ready to embark on a new adventure (or was it an old one?), you felt a sense of completeness wash over you. This was where you belonged, by the Dancer's side, exploring the wonders of time and space.

Your story with the Dancer wasn't over. In fact, it was just beginning. Again.

And as the TARDIS dematerialized, carrying you off to who-knows-when, you couldn't help but laugh. After all, in a life spent traveling with the Dancer, the one thing you could always count on was this:

The adventure never truly ends. It just takes on a new form.

And you wouldn't have it any other way.

[icegirl2772]

My Intro and Fics

Note: This will be edited as I continue working on my stories.

I've been lurking on Tumblr on and off for years now. But I've been getting more active on here that I've really gotten back into writing fanfiction. So, it may seem silly, but I felt an intro was in order.

I'm IceGirl2772. You can call me Ice or Icey. I've been writing fanfiction since I was 10 or 11. If you look at my FFN stuff... be prepared for the cringe. But nowadays, I am much more active on AO3.

Here is my profile link (AO3). Since the post is gonna be lengthy, as I provide a bit of background for the fandoms I write for and the stories I have, I'm adding a Read More. But in short, I write for the following fandoms (in alphabetical order): Big Time Rush (TV Series), CSI: Crime Scene Investigation, Criminal Case (video game), Harry Potter, Loonatics Unleashed, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (2012 series), Thunderbirds (1965 series) and Transformers: Prime. Everything is fandom blind friendly.

Just a fair warning: I list a lot of the tags my fics have, and a few of them are NSFW. I'm also gonna be updating this as I go, so it's subject to constant change.

I'm gonna do my fandoms in alphabetical order for simplicity's sake.

Big Time Rush

I have three fics in this fandom to date:

Take a Shot in the Dark | Teen and Up | No Archive Warnings Apply | James Diamond/Original Female Character, Background Kendall Knight/Jo Taylor, Background Logan Mitchell/Camille Roberts, Brief Original Male Character/Original Female Character | Kendall Knight, Kaelyn Knight (OC), James Diamond, Logan Mitchell, Carlos Garcia, Katie Knight, Gustavo Rocque, Kelly Wainwright, Palm Woods Kids, Jennifer Knight | Kendall Has a Twin Sister, Songwriting, Childhood Friends, Male-Female Friendship, Childhood Friends to Lovers, Chaos, Other Additional Tags to Be Added | 16 Chapters | 129k Words | WIP

She was always along for the ride. The twin sister. The best friend. But now, Kaelyn Knight was about to become the heart and soul of Big Time Rush as Gustavo takes her under his wing.

Going to Hollywood is certain to change the boys. But how will it change Kaelyn?

This fic holds a special place in my heart because I went back and forth on this idea for years, and it was actually through some of the friends I met here on Tumblr that I got the courage to post it. So... thanks.

Better Than Neil | Teen and Up | No Archive Warnings Apply | James Diamond/Original Female Character | James Diamond, Kaelyn Knight (OC), Original Male Character(s), Background & Cameo Characters | Teen Romance, Teenagers, Can Be Read Standalone, Snippets, Not Beta Read, One Shot, Fade to Black (kinda), James Diamond is Actually a Great Boyfriend | 1.4k Words | Complete

Kaelyn thinks of all the ways James is a better boyfriend than her ex.

aka an idea that would not leave me alone. :P I also wanted to gift this to @myloveforhergoeson because she's been a massive support to me as I write Take a Shot in the Dark. Thanks for everything, mate. :)

We Do (But Friends Don't) | Explicit | Underage | James Diamond/Original Female Character | James Knight, Kaelyn Knight (OC), Kendall Knight, Carlos Garcia, Logan Mitchell, Jennifer Knight, Gustavo Rocque, Kelly Wainwright, Palm Woods Kids | Horny Teenagers, Adolescent Sexuality, Teenagers Having Sex, First Time, Safe Sex, Multiple Sex Positions, Multiple Orgasms, Blow Jobs, Oral Sex, Jealous James Diamond, Friends with Benefits, Idiots in Love, Characters Are 16 Years Old, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Might Be Out of Character | 3/24 Chapters | 11k Words | WIP

Neither of them meant for this to happen. For James Diamond and Kaelyn Knight, the rules were clear. It was meant to be just sex. They were best friends first and foremost. It would stay between them. No feelings.

But neither of them considered the feelings that were already there.

Yet another idea that wouldn't leave me alone. I was about to let this idea wither away and die, but I met some... very corrupting influences. (You know who you are. ;)) And here we are. Special shoutout to @partiallypearl for helping me with the title. :)

Planned Fics in This Fandom:

First Sequel to Take a Shot in the Dark - takes place during Season 2 of Big Time Rush

Second Sequel to Take a Shot in the Dark - takes place during Big Time Movie

Third Sequel to Take a Shot in the Dark - takes place during Seasons 3 and 4 of Big Time Rush

Odd one-shots

CSI: Crime Scene Investigation

I only have one fic in this fandom to date:

Butterfly | Teen and Up | Creator Chose Not to Use Archive Warnings | Past Nick Stokes/Original Female Character | Nick Stokes, Kadelyn 'Kady' Stokes (OC), Original Characters, Warrick Brown, Gil Grissom, Catherine Willows, Sara Side, Greg Sanders, Jim Brass | Nick Stokes Whump, Nick Stokes as a Single Father, Father-Daughter Relationship, Family Feels, Family Bonding, Season/Series 01, Past Character Death, Other Additional Tags to Be Added | 7/24 Chapters | 11k Words | WIP

There was no denying the life of a CSI is a hard one. Different horrors every night shift. Different monsters emerging from the shadows. Always a new crime - some more horrific than others. Nick Stokes has always been one of the most empathetic CSIs, so he was often one of the most affected on the night shift.

But then, he thinks of a little girl waiting for him at home, and remembers his determination to make the world a better place for her. For his daughter. For Kadelyn. And the weight of the world is instantly lifted off his shoulders when he says two words: 'Hey, butterfly.'

This fic is a rewrite of a very old, very cringey fic I had up on my FFN. All of the chapters are very short and focus on a moment between Nick and his young daughter before, during or after an episode.

Planned Fics for This Fandom:

Stories of a similar vain to this one - all focusing on each season of the show. All named after butterfly in different languages.

Criminal Case (video game)

(There's literally no GIF for the fandom)

I have three fics in this fandom to date:

The Adventures of Avery Samuels: Welcome to Grimsborough | Mature | Graphic Depictions of Violence, Major Character Death | David Jones/Player Character | Avery Samuels (Player Character substitute), David Jones, Samuel King, Nathan Pandit, Grace Delaney, Alex Turner, Eduardo Ramirez | Season 1: Grimsborough, Police Procedural, POV First Person, Co-Workers to Lovers, Male-Female Friendship, Friends to Lovers, Minor Character Death, Canon-Typical Violence, Miscarriage, Implied Sexual Content, Innuendo, Suicide, Bombs, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Heteroromantic Bisexual Character, Implied/Referenced Cannibalism, Implied/Referenced Torture, Racism, Past Character Death, Death of a Child (referenced), Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Sad Ending, Other Additional Tags to Be Added | 74/122 Chapters | 612k Words | WIP

After completing her education at the police academy, Avery Samuels is ready for her career as a police officer in the Grimsborough Police Department to begin. She is assigned to work with David Jones, her older brother's childhood best friend. How will things unfold between the two of them as Avery navigates her new job and her new life?

This is something I originally wrote on Wattpad, and I wanted to save it when I deactivated my Wattpad account. So, I transferred it to AO3 and kept it going. It is certainly going to be a wild ride.

Nothing For You Here | Teen and Up | Past David Jones/Charlotte Jones, Brief David Jones/Player Character at the End | David Jones, Charlotte Jones, Background Original Character, Cameo from Player Character at the End | Set After the Conspiracy, Regrets, Rejection, Whumptober 2024, r/FanfictionExchange, Rated T Because This Author is Paranoid About Ratings | 2.6 Words | Complete

Charlotte had always feared rejection. It was why she waited this long to go to Jones and tell him she wanted him back. But even if a small part of her was prepared for the rejection, it didn't make it hurt any less.

r/FanfictionExchange Whumptober 2024 Fic. Prompt: Rejection

I'm taking part in the r/FanfictionExchange -tober fest because I wanted to challenge myself. I'm doing four one-shots responding to Whump, Fluff, Kink and OC. This is my Whump Entry.

Something Right | Explicit | David Jones/Player Character | David Jones, Avery Samuels (OC/Player Character) | POV First Person, Porn with Feelings, Porn with Plot, Oral Sex, Couch Sex, Penis in Vagina Sex, Missionary Sex, Friends to Lovers, My First Attempt at First Person POV Smut, Female Perspective, r/FanfictionExchange, OCTober 2024 | 4.5k Words | Complete

When Avery comes home from a trip, she wonders if she did something wrong leaving Jones with easy access to her journals to tell him what she couldn't. But she finds that she did something right.

AKA when Jones and Avery would finally get together if The Adventures of Avery Samuels unfolded differently.

r/FanfictionExchange OCtober 2024 fic. Prompt: Friends to Lovers

I'm taking part in the r/FanfictionExchange -tober fest because I wanted to challenge myself. I'm doing four one-shots responding to Whump, Fluff, Kink and OC. This is my OC Entry.

Planned Fics for This Fandom:

The Adventures of Avery Samuels: Welcome to Pacific Bay - Title subject to change. Sequel to Welcome to Grimsborough. Follows Avery in Pacific Bay.

The Adventures of Avery Samuels: Save the World - Title subject to change. Sequel to Grimsborough and Pacific Bay. Follows Avery during her tenure in the Bureau.

Mysteries of the Past: The Adventures of Emily Campbell - Spin-off focusing on Avery's ancestor Emily Campbell as she moves from England to Concordia. Based on Season 4 of Criminal Case.

The Adventures of Avery Samuels: A Final Conspiracy - Follows Avery as she returns to Grimsborough. Will be the final story in the series. (I'm not doing Seasons 6-8.)

Some one-shots of varying ratings.

A retelling of the main story from Jones' POV.

A smutty one-shot involving Chief Arthur Wright and my new OC, who is also Avery’s ancestor.

Harry Potter

I have two works in this fandom:

Just a Man | Teen and Up | Creator Chose Not to Use Archive Warnings | No Romantic Relationships | Unnamed Hufflepuff Student, Background & Cameo Characters, Various Characters Mentioned But Not Seen | Voldemort Dies, Past Character Death, Second Wizarding War with Voldemort, Battle of Hogwarts Aftermath, More Book Than Film Based, POV First Person | 575 Words | Complete

The thoughts of an unidentified Hufflepuff student in the immediate aftermath of the Battle of Hogwarts.

This is my very first work in the Harry Potter fandom. I'm a Hufflepuff, so this was born out of me wanting to shine a bit more of a spotlight on the house.

Even If | Teen and Up | Creator Chose Not to Use Archive Warnings | No Romantic Relationships | Neville Longbottom, Background & Cameo Characters, Original Character | Gryffindor, Gryffindors Being Gryffindors, Introspection, Based on Film Adaptations | 1.8k Words | Complete

It was a question that many Hogwarts students asked, regardless of whether they were planed in Gryffindor or another house. It was certainly asked as the dark days loomed. When certain events brought that question to the forefront more than ever.

What did it mean to be brave?

I wrote this thinking of a message by a local antibullying organisation: Speak - even if your voice shakes.

Planned Fics for This Fandom:

My plans are very fluid. I am hoping to write more one-shots. I don't see myself writing a mutli-chaptered story in this fandom.

Loonatics Unleashed

I have two fics in this fandom so far:

A Million Things | Teen and Up | Creator Chose Not to Use Archive Warnings | No Romantic Relationships | Ace Bunny, Brylee Bunny (OC), Lexi Bunny, Danger Duck, Slam Tasmanian, Tech E. Coyote, Rev Runner, Zadavia, Various Character(s) | Childbirth, Character Adopted at Birth, Interspecies Family, Found Family, Ace Bunny as a Big Brother, Diabetes, Menstruation, Coming-of-Age, Canon-Typical Violence, Bullying, Other Additional Tags to Be Added | 20/27 Chapters | 108k Words | WIP

Brylee Bunny is a million things. An orphan. A teenage girl. An aspiring photographer. A diabetic. An outcast. A... superhero? Brylee is thrust into her new life: a life where she has superpowers and she, along with her adoptive brother Ace and five other individuals, save the world from evil on a daily basis. How will she adapt to her new life as a superhero? Especially when it brings up even more questions about the family who abandoned her at birth?

I started writing this on FFN several years ago and decided to bring it over to AO3 when I decided to make AO3 my main fanfic site.

Pull Ya Heads Out | General Audiences | No Archive Warnings Apply | Ace Bunny/Lexi Bunny | Ace Bunny, Lexi Bunny, Brylee Bunny (OC) | Post-Acmegeddon: Part 2, Acexi, My OG OTP, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Flufftober 2024, Love Confessions, Mentions of Angsty Events, My OC is a Cheeky Little Shit, r/FanfictionExchange | 2.5k Words | Complete

After certain events unfolded (re: defeating your boss's evil brother), Brylee decided that two certain bunnies need to pull their heads out and tell each other how they feel.

r/FanfictionExchange Flufftober 2024 Fic. Prompt: Love Confessions

I'm taking part in the r/FanfictionExchange -tober fest because I wanted to challenge myself. I'm doing four one-shots responding to Whump, Fluff, Kink and OC. This is my Fluff Entry, and I decided to use this opportunity to pay tribute to my original OTP.

Planned Fics for This Fandom:

A Million and One Things - Sequel to A Million Things. Follows Brylee during the events of season two.

A Million More Things - Sequel to A Million Things and A Million and One Things. The final story in the Brylee Bunny trilogy.

Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (2012 series)

I have three fics in this fandom so far:

In the Darkness | Teen and Up | Creator Chose Not to Use Archive Warnings | Leonardo/Original Female Character | Leonardo, Alina Herber (OC), Raphael, Donatello, Michelangelo, Hamato Yoshi / Splinter, April O'Neil | Canon-Typical Violence, Interspecies Relationship, Interspecies Romance, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Child Abuse, Child Neglect, Other Additional Tags to Be Added | 18 Chapters | 82k Words | WIP

They introduced her to their world, now she can introduce them to hers.

What can possibly go wrong?

Something I started writing eight years ago and originally got abandoned, but renewed interest thanks to review exchanges on Reddit (along with rewatching the show) got me back into this.

Mine | Explicit | No Archive Warnings Apply | Leonardo/Original Female Character | Leonardo, Alina Herber (OC) | Mating Cycles/In Heat, Porn, Knifeplay, Aged-Up Characters, Leo in Heat, Yeah I'm Doing My Own Take on This, Interspecies Relationship(s), Interspecies Sex, Oral Sex, Multiple Sex Positions, Multiple Orgasms, Does This Count As Rough Sex?, Characters Are 18 Years Old, Pussy Slapping, My First Attempt at Interspecies Sex, First Time, Light BDSM, dom!leo, I'm Bad at Tagging, No Concrit Please | 4.6k Words | Complete

Usually, Alina stayed away when the Turtles were in heat. Well, at least from Leo, who was most affected by her presence. That changed in their eighteenth year.

Same ol' story. An idea wouldn't leave me alone. Met some bad influences who encouraged this. I wanted to see if this was something I could explore down the line in my current Leo/Alina series, so this also served as a... test balloon of sorts.

Such a Good Girl | Explicit | No Archive Warnings Apply | Leonardo/Original Female Character | Leonardo, Alina Herber (OC) | Porn, Interspecies Sex, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Oral Sex, Multiple Orgasms, Multiple Sex Positions, Praise Kink, Kinktober 2024, r/FanfictionExchange, dom!Leo, Sex Toys, Penis in Vagina Sex | 3.3k Words | Complete

Leo and Alina sequester themselves away from the world as they work through Leo's heat together, making some surprising discoveries about each other.

Somewhat sequel to 'Mine', but can be read standalone.

r/FanfictionExchange Kinktober 2024 Fix. Prompt: Praise Kink.

I'm taking part in the r/FanfictionExchange -tober fest because I wanted to challenge myself. I'm doing four one-shots responding to Whump, Fluff, Kink and OC. This is my Kink Entry, and I decided to use this opportunity to do a somewhat sequel to Mine.

Planned Fics in This Fandom:

First In the Darkness Sequel - follows season 2 of TMNT 2012

Second In the Darkness Sequel - follows season 3 of TMNT 2012

Third In the Darkness Sequel - follows first half of season 4 of TMNT 2012

Fourth In the Darkness Sequel - follows second half of season 4 of TMNT 2012

Fifth In the Darkness Sequel - follows some of season 5 of TMNT

Potential for various one-shots focusing on Leo and Alina

Thunderbirds (1965 series)

I have six stories in this fandom. It's by far my most active:

The Thunderbird and the Doctor | Mature | Graphic Descriptions of Violence | Scott Tracy/Original Female Character, Background Alan Tracy/Tin-Tin Kyrano, Background Virgil Tracy/Original Female Character | Scott Tracy, Tracy Family, Indiana Evans (OC) | Based on Original Series, Scott Needs Some Loving, They Need a Doctor, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Narcissism, Angst and Romance, Angst with a Happy Ending, Attempted Murder, Kidnapping, Birth Control (one chapter), Pregnancy, Brief Descriptions of Labour | 50/50 Chapters | 292k Words | Complete

There was a missing component to International Rescue, Jeff Tracy felt. They needed a doctor. So, he found one. Dr. Indiana Evans was one of the best-known trauma surgeons. She wants to make a difference. Little did she know how much her life would change along the way.

This baby was what got me back into fanfiction writing full time. So, seeing this complete felt very bittersweet. In many ways, it's my first baby.

The Thunderbird and the Doctor After Dark | Explicit | No Archive Warnings Apply | Scott Tracy/Original Female Character | Scott Tracy, Indiana Evans (OC) | Porn, Porn with Feelings, Some Plot, Blow Jobs, Oral Sex, One Shot Collection, Additional Warnings in Author's Note, Unprotected Sex, Masturbation, Multiple Sex Positions, Hand Jobs, No Dialogue (some chapters), Cunnilingus, Mutual Masturbation, Medical Kink, Sexual Roleplay, 5+1 Things, Cockblocking, This Author Sucks at Dirty Talk, Temperature Play, Restraints, Blindfolds, Aftercare, Bathtub Sex, Light BDSM, Couch Sex, Birthday Sex | 22/25 Chapters | 52k Words | WIP

The missing scenes from The Thunderbird and the Doctor. What exactly do Scott and Indiana get up to behind closed doors?

This is my smut collection. It's the missing sex scenes from the main story, but you can read it without reading the main story. Especially if you're just looking for some smut.

The Thunderbird and the Geologist | Teen and Up | Creator Chose Not to Use Archive Warnings | Virgil Tracy/Original Female Character, Background Scott Tracy/Original Female Character, Background Alan Tracy/Tin-Tin Kyrano | Virgil Tracy, Arizona Adams (OC), Tracy Family | Sequel, References to Previous Story, Past Character Death, Falling in Love, Happy Ending, Might Contain Inaccuracies, Child of Death Adults (CODA), American Sign Language, Other Additional Tags to Be Added | 8 Chapters | 25k Words | WIP

Sequel to 'The Thunderbird and the Doctor'.

We saw Scott find his missing piece. How about Virgil? It was pure fate that saw Virgil meeting Dr. Arizona Adams, a world-renowned geologist who also happens to be Indiana's childhood best friend. Will their road to happily ever after be smooth sailing?

This is the second story in a series I'm planning focusing on each Tracy brother and their love story. It's early days, but I'm happy with it so far.

The Solution Was Simple | General Audiences | No Archive Warnings Apply | Jeff Tracy | Pre-Canon, Pre-IR, Reflection, Written on my iPad | 2k Words | Complete

Jeff reflects on the sacrifices he's asking his sons to make for his dreams, and is resolved to do what he can to rectify that.

I wrote this one-shot on a plane trip actually (personal note: never write on an iPad again). I actually posted it on the anniversary I started posting The Thunderbird and the Doctor, which made it even more special.

A Tropical White Christmas | General Audiences | No Archive Warnings Apply | Tracy Family, Original Characters, Penelope Creighton-Ward, Tin-Tin Kyrano, Background & Cameo Characters | Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Snowball Fight, Snow on a Tropical Island, References to Canon, Pregnant Character | 1.5k Words | Complete

Brains had given the Tracy family a great gift this Christmas. One they were determined to make use of.

This is written in reference to the Thunderbirds episode Give or Take a Million, where Brains made it snow on Tracy Island. So, the boys enjoy it the old-fashioned way. This was written as part of the Winter Fest on the FanfictionExchange subreddit and gifted to @kristylime, a good friend of mine and co-mod who gave me the idea. Thanks, mate.

Down and Up | General Audiences | No Archive Warnings Apply | Jeff Tracy/Lucille Tracy | Jeff Tracy, Lucille Tracy | First Meetings, Love at First Sight, No Dialogue | 1.9k Words | Complete

Two people experiencing an unlucky day meet at a train station, and their day looks up.

I wrote this in response to the Fate and Luck Fest on the FanfictionExchange subreddit.

Planned Fics in This Fandom:

The Thunderbird and the Photographer - Gordon's love story with photographer Mirabel Marks.

The Thunderbird and the Author - John's love story with author Adalyn Rowe.

The Thunderbird and His Sweetheart - Alan's love story with Tin-Tin

Odd one-shots

Not in this fandom, but I am thinking of doing a fic based on the reboot with a new OC, but similar to The Thunderbird and the Doctor

Transformers: Prime

I have two fics in this fandom:

Save You | Explicit | Graphic Descriptions of Violence | Jack Darby/Original Female Character, Optimus Prime/Arcee | Talida Prime, Jack Darby, Optimus Prime, Arcee, Ratchet, Cliffjumper, Bumblebee, Bulkhead, William Fowler, Starscream, Decepticons | Kidnapping, Torture, Teen Romance, Rewrite, Amputation, Aftermath of Torture, Psychological Torture, Implied Sexual Content, Pre-Canon, Might Contain Medical Inaccuracies, Angst with a Happy Ending, Is This a Dead Dove Fic? | 23/23 Chapters | 64k Words | Complete

What if Jack somehow discovered the existence of the Autobots earlier than planned? His best friend has disappeared and he soon discovers that there is more to her disappearance than meets the eye.

This is a rewrite of a story I brought over from FFN, which is in turn a rewrite of my original Talida Prime series. I wasn't happy with what I was doing and had done, so it led to this.

Zombie | Explicit | Graphic Descriptions of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage | Jack Darby/Original Female Character, Optimus Prime/Arcee | Jack Darby, Talida Prime, Original Characters, Optimus Prime, Arcee, Bulkhead, Bumblebee, Ratchet, Cliffjumper, Miko Nakadai, Rafael "Raf" Esquivel, William Fowler, June Darby, Megatron, Starscream, Soundwave, Other Character Tags to Be Added | Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Past Torture, Past Abuse, Flashbacks, Season/Series 01, Amputee Character, Teen Romance, Eventual Smut, Characters Are 16 Years Old, Is This a Dead Dove?, Slight Alteration to Canon, Other Additional Tags to Be Added | 8 Chapters | 32k Words | WIP

Sequel to 'Save You'.

It's been two years. The Decepticons have retreated into the shadows. Talida is haunted by her experiences, but is slowly moving forward with the help of her loved ones. But the tranquility is disrupted when the Decepticons make a dramatic return to the scene, causing a significant blow to the Autobot forces and marking the resumption of a war that has haunted Talida since birth. The Autobots gear up for another fight alongside old and new allies, but will they all emerge unscathed?

As mentioned, this is a sequel to Save You. This follows season one of the show, but some changes will have to be made because, in this series, Jack knew about the Autobots before the show's canon.

Planned Fics in This Fandom:

Sequels to Save You and Zombie. Unknown titles. Unknown if any other fics will crop up.

[cosmica-galaxy]

Mimic oc submission

Hai it’s heaven😁

Name: Televise & Channel Image:

Mimic species: TV mimic (Mutant).

Friendly or Hostile: Hostile? Yes.

Where can it be found: Dark alleyways, at night time, dimly lit open areas.

What does it eat and how does it hunt: Anything it can get its hands on, scraps of metal, flesh from humans/Skibidi’s, Mimics, etc.

Televise hunts by luring prey with Channel, using Channel as a puppet and fooling anyone who happens to fall into its path. Using Channel to bring the prey close enough to Televise where it can rip it to shreds with its’ claws and or bite the prey in half.

Does it have any special abilities: Being able to mutate its skin to show four wires that come from its back and being able to kill prey before putting it under its control (like the parasite Skibidi’s, TV woman, Titan tv man, etc).

Personal backstory:

Televise: Once a regular TV mimic-- one day it went off on its way to find food and water, suddenly it had encountered a Skibidi who could shoot acid. Getting caught in the crossfire and getting shot at with the cannon, instead of their skin burning and pealing off, it instead soaked into their body. Soon making its way to his nervous system and bones. It ended up infecting him and slowly taking effect mutating him after he ate his first alliance member, then its body demanded more metal to slowly turn himself into a half organic half machine monster, becoming half the size of a large unit and a real danger to everything around him. Although he doesn’t kill everything in his path, and sometimes likes to toy with his prey.

Channel: Prey is what this TV unit was to Televise before it wasn’t…thinking that it was his Large unit, Channel followed Televise into an alleyway corner. Confused, the TV unit looked back at the large unit questioning why he was led to an corner and cocked his head to the side before starting up his voice box. Speaking in his reversed language ` “ ⸮ɘɿɘʜ γʜW “ ` asked the smaller unit now almost dying of curiosity before he realized something…it was a simple touch but he realized that The other units coat was buttoned. He swore it wasn’t like that, but before Channel could leave as the smoke started up, is when everything crashed down for Channel. A long slim wire had a quietly made its way out of sight for Channel to realize before it was too late. He was hit in the back of the head with something that had disrupted his teleportation process, a jolt of electricity was ripped from him and slowly felt something he didn’t know he was capable of…pain. it flooded his wires and nerves as it tried to send something back to his home base, anything! But whatever had just hit him was working quicker than him. Before he knew it, parts of himself was being wiped and erased. Like the pain of organs being removed from inside of you when you are awake, feeling everything in the moment before…it all faded to black for him.

His screen had shut off before turning back on again, it took Televise to a few tries before he was able to operate Channel the way he could now. A lifeless puppet controlled by a vile beast that has done nothing but use his body to lure in unsuspecting people or things right into the jaws of danger and death.

(I know you don’t understand walls of text so I would be willing to break it up to you via discord, you know my username just text me if you need anything.) -- And here’s an entry from @angelwolf89 (Aka Heaven)! I adore this concept and idea! It makes me think of an angler fish hunting in the deep dark zones of the ocean and I am HERE for it! Amazing job with your idea and lore, Heaven! : D

[romana-after-dark]

The Wrong Way: Alternate Ending

Dark!Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Tommy Miller x reader

Masterlist

Spotify playlist

Summery: You are sold to Joel to clear up some of your fathers' debts, and he takes you back to his house where him, Tommy, and high ranking members of his raiding trope stay. Joel is mean, cruel, and hash, but had small moments of softness that confuse you in your venerable state. Over time, you get to know him and Tommy, and see different sides of each, and both are hiding secrets. Was it possible to fall in love under these circumstances? Or was that just another way Joel was fucking with you?

Aka: my mom sold me to One Direction

WARNINGS FOR FULL FIC, NOT CHAPTER BY CHAPTER UNLESS SOMETHING NEW IS ADDED AFTER MASTER WARNING LIST: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT!!!! Fic contains graphic depictions of sexual assault, rape, molestation, dubcon/non con. Blow Jobs, PIV sex, lose of virginity, sex trafficking, past incest, death/people dying everywhere, Stockholm syndrome, falling for your rapist, victim blaming, torcher, branding, physical abuse, rape (not Joel), somno, dub con on tommy? idk he's not really into it but feels like he has to, self-harm/depression/suicidal thoughts (not a lot) but fair warning, major age gaps, love triangle, pregnancy/birth, threats of abortion, major character death, mentions of potential csa/child abuse but does not even come close to happening, forced pregnancy, forced housewife shit, breeding, breeding kink?!?!

Feels almost silly to warn at this point but bc we havn't seen it in a while, reminder of the SA warnings.

******************

“RUN!”

And you did. You didn’t know where to, but you ran for your life, for your babies. Hearing a gun go off again, you stop briefly wondering if you just heard either the man you loved or the father of your child die… but there was no time to mourn or think, you needed to go. 8 months pregnant, you do everything you can to keep running, but you are stopped by a blinding pain in your stomach, causing you to scream before you can even stop yourself.

When it fades, you open your eyes to see an infected.

There was no time for pain.

Contractions going again, you prayed for another round of braxton-hicks and not actual labor, you prayed Tommy was alive, you prayed the infected behind you couldn’t move fast due to one thing or another… but you couldn’t stop to look. The adrenalyn did most of the work, and did sheer willpower. You didn’t think you could power through running so fast and so long if it was just you, but the motherly instinct to protect this baby went above everything. Like a blessing, you see the cabin you had stayed at and took off towards it, infected at your heels, horrific noises that you shall surely hear the rest of your life should you survive this letting you know there was no time to even wince at a particularly sharp contraction. They were not spaced… and if Lorenzo was right, and if this wasn’t braxton-hicks…. You were going to give birth in this cabin.

The slam of the door behind you did not save you, as soon you found yourself sitting in an empty room with a chair propped against the door as the infected tried to get in, your switchblade gripped in your hands, as the baby tried to come out.

You can’t help but scream in pain; the infected already knew where you were, it was only a matter of time until it came in and you had to be face to face with it for the first time. You’d seen them from afar of course, but you had never been close; someone always protected you, Zach, Lorenzo, Tommy, Joel… you’re whole life you had depended on men to save you from other men and a litany of evils in this world and none of them had been able to stop this. No one stepped in between you and your dead, no one stepped in between you and Joel, and no one would step between you and this abomination… 

But you’d try your damndest to step between your baby and whatever might harm them, and if that meant facing this infected, you’d do it.

When it burst in, you don’t bother hiding our scream; they looked horrific and the sounds were just as bad, but god, the smell was nauseating to your pregnant senses. None of that compared to the genuine fear as you fought for your life and for this baby. The creature was right in your face as you stabbed him, the jackknife now successfully ending two threats to you; the infected and Nick.

As you look to the ground, you are equal parts horrified and relieved to find  the reason why the contractions stop.

On the floor was a baby boy.

Thinking quickly, you remember Maura’s instructions in case you gave birth and she couldn’t make it, using the knife to cut the umbilical cord and finally, fucking finally you hold your little baby, who from everything you saw was healthy, screaming his little lungs out.

“You fucking tell ‘em, Caleb.”

There, you sat and waited to see who was victorious of the brothers. If it was Tommy, you had to be prepared for the fact Joel was dead and be ready to mourn that. It was insanity, but you loved Joel, you really did and he was the father of your son. However, when Joel appeared, you knew things were much worse.

He rushed to your side, kicking the infected out of his way and quickly looked you over.

“I’m not bit” Your voice was flat, tired, pained… Joel won, which means Tommy was dead and you might be too. So might your baby when he sees it’s a boy, not his precious Sarah.

Glancing down, Joel realizes why your dress is all bundled up. “Is that…” He whispers, voice soft, floating in the air in the tone he always carried after violence. 

You pull down the dress. “Your son. Caleb, meet your daddy.”

Joel took the baby into his arms, wonder in his eyes but also obvious disappointment. “A boy…”

Carefully, carefully, you watch his expression as you hold your breath. Backed against the peeling plaster and hard wood flooring, you wondered if this is where you died, if this is where Joel realizes how much of a disappointment you are, realizes he’s been delusional this whole time and you can’t bring Sarah back and he can get pussy anywhere, and you and your baby you fought so hard to keep alive was useless…

“Please don’t hurt him.” You begin to cry as you beg. “Please, we can try again, or you can kill me just please, please don’t hurt him!” Desperate, you grab onto his shirt, pleading for Caleb’s life. “Take him to Jackson, you can do what you want with me I’ll be good I’ll be so, so good just please” Barely coherent, you choke out your last word in a sob, taking a moment to heave before collecting yourself. “Let him live.”

You looked pitiful, you knew. Maybe it was stupid to feel this way for a child you didn’t plan for, a child you didn’t initially want to keep, a child whose pregnancy you had begged Joel to help you end…  but you kept it, and a life grew inside you and you fell in love. For months, you tried everything to be good, to do things right, to be what Joel wanted to keep yourself alive and soon you found you were fighting not just for you, but for your baby, a baby whose life was in Joel’s hands right now.

“Oh little one… I’m not going to hurt him.” Joel assured you, and relief washed in your body. “We’re a family, mami, he’s my son, and you…” Joel kissed your lips, his hand possessively gripping your face, although you knew from experience that the pain he was causing you was not purposeful. “You are my wife, I love you, and you are mine, and no matter what you do, no matter where you try to run to, no matter how you hurt me, you are mine.”

“Yours” You repeat. It was stupid to think you could escape him, to think Tommy could help you, to think you were anything other than Joel’s possession, the thing he used to fulfill a fantasy. You exist for him, you were nothing of your own, and now that Lorenzo is gone too, your entire being was going to be Joel ‘Breeding bitch’ as he had put it. You were nothing.

He put Caleb back into your arms. “C’mon, let’s get you somewhere safe.” Before attempting to move you, he kissed you again, deeper this time, and as he slipped his tongue inside your mouth his body language relaxed and apparently gave up on the moving you idea for the time being. “God I’ve missed you” Joel groaned out, settling on his knees to your side and you realize he’s hard.

He’s insane. You finally realize. Absolutely insane.

“Can’t wait to get you home, little one, might have to take you right here.” Grunting, he grew painful hard against you as he began to feel you up, groping your breasts. “Fuuuck your milk came in, didn’t it? You look so goddamn good, even like this.”

You hold Caleb close to your chest; the side away from Joel’s hands. “J-Joel” You choke, trying to remind him you just gave birth. “Caleb”

“He’ll be fine for a few minutes.”

Admittedly careful, Joel takes him out of your arms as you cry and beg. “Joel no! Don’t take him! Joel please!”

But he wasn’t listening. Laying the newborn down on his jacket, Joel took your shoulders and pushed you down even as you cried and reached for your baby. You give up, shutting your eyes as you hear the jingle of Joel’s belt he was undoing with one hand; the other was holding you down.

Just get through it. 

Even as you lay in your own afterbirth, a dead infected and half an hour old baby in the room with you, Joel wanted you, and there was no use fighting it any more than there was the day he thought he was taking your virginity. Thought he was… You want Tommy, but you don’t dare call for him. There wasn’t even anyone to call for anymore.

“Gonna fill you right up again, little mama” Joel murmurs. “Gonna get started on making me a daughter.”

When the gunshot sounded, making you and Joel both scream and your baby cry, you thought Joel had left a gun in his pants. That is, until you feel Joel’s weight lifted off you and open your eyes to see Tommy, bloody and limping, pulling Joel up by his shirt and flinging him across the room. 

“WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU!” Tommy screams, a volume and anger you’d never heard from him before. There's a sound of a scuffle you can’t see through your tears, but it’s clear Tommy wins, disarming Joel.

An aching, horrible pain between your legs was distracting, but even that wasn’t as loud as the draw to your son. You try to crawl to him, hands on the wood attempting to drag your body, but Tommy pulled you away. 

“LET ME SEE HIM!” You cry out.

“Honey, just sit, I’m gonna bring him to you.”

Shaking, you don’t resist him as your precious Tommy coaxes you to sit against the wall before bringing Caleb to you, all the while a gun in his dominant hand so he could point it at Joel whose torso was bleeding.

A rough but gentle hand on your tear stained and red face. “Take him, I’m getting you both out of here.”

“Tommy” You cry tears of relief, there's hope, just a glimmer of it but hope.

Despite the two wounds he was sporting on his leg and his shoulder, Tommy pulled your body up and allowed you to rest most of your body weight on him.

“Hold onto Caleb.” He said. “Just worry about him, and I’ll worry about you.”

You trusted your Tommy.

As you turn to leave him, you hear Joel call your name and… even after it all, you can’t help turn around.

Tommy doesn’t want to at first. “Honey, no.” He’s till furious at Joel. He’s been angry at Joel for a year, but what he witnessed Joel trying to do right after giving birth had his angry manifesting in the physical; a shaking rage that you felt rattling against yourself. This was not his brother.

But Tommy was no Joel, Tommy did not make your choices for you. Tommy helped you turn around to face Joel holding his stomach, looking at you with those pleading eyes before surprising you and turning to Tommy.

“Don’t take her from me again.” His voice was soft, desperate, sad…

Tommy’s grip on you tightened, he refused to fall for bc this again, to be manipulated by Joel.“I’m not doing anything she doesn’t want, Joel.”

“That is my son, and she is my wife.”

“She is a child! Joel for god sake she just a kid.”

Joel scoffed. “You aren’t that much younger than me, Tommy. You were inside her just like I was, don’t act superior just because-”

You found your anger. “You RAPED ME!” You knew you startled your crying baby, but after a year you had finally found it in you to be angry. “You raped me, you tortured me, fuck Joel you tried to rape me 10 minutes ago when when JUST GAVE BIRTH! Your are insane! You are not fit to raise a child, you are not fit to have a daughter, you are not fit to have a wife! I tried, Joel I tried” You sob out the words. “I tried to be a good wife, I cooked and I cleaned and I sucked your dick and I didn’t put up a fight anymore, you killed Nick for me and I thought maybe, just maybe if I did everything right I’d be safe!” Suddenly the ache in your heart snaps, and you begin to cry, whispering. “I loved you Joel. I really did. I thought we could be happy together… but nothing I ever did was enough for you…”

Joel closed his eyes. “No, little one, no, that’s not true-”

“I d-don’t kno-n-n-ow w-hy I wasn’t en-ough.” You can barely speak, the hurt you felt mixed with the rage and the physical pain making it hard to get the words out clearly. “But I guess it makes sense.” Looking down, you see the crying child in your arms. “I didn’t give you what you wanted, I didn’t give you a daughter, I fucked it up and maybe… maybe you knew that all along… maybe that’s why you tried to kill us…”

“Honey, no, you didn’t fuck up.” Tommy tried to reassure you, but, as much as you loved him… this was between you and Joel.

He opened his eyes, large and wet and managing to look so young. “It’s gonna be okay, we can fix this we can get through this, you and I… we’re meant to be, little one. We’re tied together… we can fix this, I’ll do better, Ill be better, we can have another baby and try again-”

For Joel, you knew having a boy was ‘wrong’ but the idea of trying again, the idea that your son was a mistake to ‘do over’ was horrific to you. “My son is perfect” You insist. “And I am going to raise him to be a good man, away from you.”

The laugh Joel belts out is dark and sardonic. “Yeah, you and Tommy? You gonna tell him you abandoned his dad to be a whore for his uncle? Tommy don’t know shit about being a father, I’ve had to look after him his whole life, Tommy’s never stayed in one place very long, pretty son he’ll get bored and-”

“No.” You insist. “We’ll raise him together, Tommy won't leave me.” He promised you his fidelity, and you believed him.

“He can’t protect you! He couldn’t protect you against Nick, he folded like a lawn chair an hour ago and he can’t even kill me to keep you safe!”

Tommy also was shot when Joel and him fought while you ran, and dragged his way here, pulled him off you, fought Joel again, disarmed him, and now he stands there holding most of you and your son's weight with two holes in his body. Tommy, who had abandoned his life in Jackson for you, Tommy who had tried his best to stand up against Joel, Tommy who made your life bearable… The fact he couldn’t kill his own brother just endeared you more.

And suddenly, you realize you don’t have to defend your choices to the man who abused you. 

“Tommy, let’s go.” 

The younger Miller looks at his big brother. He was bleeding, but nowhere vital and with the man’s insane amount of willpower, Tommy was sure he’d live, but not before Tommy had gotten you far, far away. Joel would have no idea where in this country you were even going, and you’d all be safe.

“I’m sorry, Joel.” and Tommy was. He really was. “But if you come near near my family again, I will kill you”

You didn’t believe him for a second,

Joel was sightlent as you took one last look before turning around to leave him… both you and Tommy hear a quiet ‘goodbye’

Tommy helps you get on the horse and despite the agonizing pain you are both in, you keep riding and you don’t stop except quick breaks. Tommy is suffering as much as you are, although his wounds mostly stopped bleeding, you had to accept the on off bleeding on the ride, just hoping when it starts that it will stop again. Within the day you are in the outskirts of Rapid City, on a farm where, as you ride up, you see Zach, Maura, Jack, June and, to your relief, Lorenzo all gathering on the front porch. Not a moment too soon, not when Tommy was so clearly struggling to keep awake and his bleeding starting once again after getting on the horse after the last stop saw him slip and his torso fall against the horse.

Tommy calls out to them. “WE NEED HELP!” And quickly, you are both surrounded by your loved ones. Initially, everyone goes to help you. Maura takes the infant out of your arms, rushing him inside before anything else to check him and properly clothes him, the kind family you were all staying with giving some clothes to replace the blanket you had wrapped him in. Next, Zach reached for you, Tommy holding the reins to keep himself up and even still he helped you get down.

“Tommy’s hurt.” You mumble through your exhaustion, so relieved to be safe and sound in your big brother's arms. It was then you realize that June was there, Zach had saved her too, and she quickly was fussing over you the way she always did. As Tommy attempted to get down with Jack’s help, he fell to the ground and after screaming for him, going into hysterics after the trauma of this week, you begin to bleed again, soon joining him in slipping into unconsciousness. 

You woke up in bed with June asleep next to you, Lorenzo and Zach sleeping on a mattress on the floor, Lorenzo cuddled up on Zach’s chest. 

“Caleb” You mumble, waking your family. “Tommy?”

“Both safe” June assures. “Caleb’s over there” she points to a make shift crib in the room your group was allotted. 

“Tommy?”

“Right here, honey” Tommy lay on the bed with Jack and Maura sleeping on the floor next to you.

You roll over, delighted to see Tommy on another bed in the room. “You’re okay?” 

“Yeah” He smiled, tired. “So are you,although you never seem to worry about yourself the way you worry about others.”

You look down, tearing up at the loved ones surrounding you. “Renzo? How id you get here? You’re supposed to be in Jackson.”

Lorenzo smiled his signature grin. “Yeah, Jackson was cramping my style. Wouldn’t let me smoke” He tsked, and you giggle, Zach sitting up to be at your side, June wrapping her arms around you. 

“I missed you guys so much” You begin to cry.

“Shhh, it’s okay” Zach wipes your tears. “Everythings gonna be okay now, I won’t let nothing happen to you again.” 

“None of us will” Lorenzo adds.

You hold June close, having not seen her for a whole year. “I have so much to tell you”

She hugs you back. “We have all the time in the world now.” June gave you a forehead kiss. “What’s his name?” Your friend nodded the the cradle.

“Caleb Thomas” You watch Zach’s face split into a smile at the realization you gave your son his middle name. “Named after his uncle.” You turn to Tommy, only to find him smiling softly at you, nothing but adoration in his eyes. “And his daddy.”

Everything was going to be okay.

************************

I hope this satiated you tommy lovers out there, and made up for that HORRIFIC ending i gave forrealsies XD

Happy to announce that in the canon time line, I am continuing the story 16 years later with Ghost of You, Ellie's story of discovering the truth of her origens. Check it out and if you are interested, comment to join the tag list! only 5 chapters and the first chapter is already out, so its not super long, i just felt like this story should be told, and it wraps up many questions and storylines people have had.

please consider chekcing it out if you love this stoy!

tagging the usually tags and a few people who read chapters 1-10 that i thought might enjoy (esp k-ra lol i think youll be happy with this)

@my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @howaboutcastiel @tidlewav3 @bunnnyy-dummy @slutfortimotheechalamet @foggymoonbanana@dinsbaby @miraclesabound @jenna-ortega @primosworld @marclovers @threeheadedlamb @secretwriterpp @the-fox-den

@bitchyglitterfox @0bsessedwithfictionalcharacters @alloftheboysivelovedbefore @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @lunar-ghoulie @pedritosdarling @dreamonseems @alwaysdjarin @amoramorquetepintas @milla-frenchy @koshkaj-blog @k-ra @fan-fiction-floozy

[bxngthedoldrums]

a petekey reading of so much (for) stardust

aka you knew i'd do this aka i didnt take four literature classes in college for nothing aka make sure your tinfoil hat is SECURED to your noggin aka dear lord forgive me for committing sins of petekey in the year of 2023

look. i have to do this or i don't deserve this blog. amen

~ love from the other side

okay. yea, immediately the "you were the sunshine of my lifetime" thing is sort of sus, because we all know pete wentz and anytime sun or summer is involved it's Something. this is solidified in "summer falling through our fingers again" in verse 2, but it's interesting that he uses "ours" in this lyric bc i feel like recently most of pete's summer lyrics have been pretty self-inflicted. it's impossible to not note the whole "inscribed like stone and faded by the rain" in the bridge v. "the tombstones were waiting" line in bang the doldrums. i shant even elaborate u can pick up what i'm laying down!

~ heartbreak feels so good

i think this song is pretty light on petekey imagery but "light from a screen of messages unsent" kinda reminds me of "some nights it gets so bad i almost pick up the phone" in ginasfs but i could be reaching for Sure. let's be real that's all i do

~ hold me like a grudge

honestly i think this is one of the worst petekey offenders on the album. this one had me gawking at my screen as i read the lyrics. "thaw out my freezer burn feelings for twenty summers" ??? be SERIOUS pete... "part-time soulmate, full-time problem" yeah I GET IT I GET IT !!! the whole thing reeks of 2005 summertime fling

~ fake out

"do you laugh about me whenever i leave?" bonkers ass line,,this reminds me of pete's lj writing in those years after 2005,,,"my mood board is just pictures of you, but i'm not sad anymore" YEAH. this is SO pete holy fuck. that classic wentz obsession,,"we did for futures that never came and for pasts that we're never gonna change" this line's got me on the fuckin FLOOR. also classic pete!!! his perchance for nostalgia is just insane and he really feels it huh

~ heaven, iowa

i dont even know how to get into this one. "kiss my cheek, baby, please/would you read my eulogy?" SICK and TWISTED evil!!! evil!!! "i will never ask you for anything except to dream sweet of me" jesus h christ the melancholy is off the charts but holy fuck this song is so,,,tender? i dont know wht to say but i know this was written w summer of love intention. i know this in my heart. "scar-crossed lovers, forever" OKAY I KNOW !!! this song is DEVASTATING verse 2 is fucked UP and the bridge is too!!! "closed my eyes inside your darkness and found your glow"???? i cantr og on

~ so good right now

i can't really discern any particularly petekey lyrics in this one right away but the whole "i cut myself down to be whatever you need me to be" is pretty fucking wild

~ i am my own muse

there's some really sad lyrics in this one ab the whole future-not-going-as-planned thing that comes up so frequently in pete's writing but honestly the whole "let's twist the knife again, twist the knife again like we did last summer" thing made my head explode. every lover's got a lil dagger in their hands!!!

~ flu game

im not gonna sit here and type out ths whole fucking song but oh my GOD bro. this song to me is a really nice callback to pete's older style of lyricism but that comes with the self-deprecation and all the other really sad shit. it's beautiful! it's horrible! i love it!!! its about mikey i cant even pul out a few lyrics just LISTEN

~ baby annihilation

another fucked up one that literally anyone else in fob should have vetoed but OKAY?? "time is luck and i wish ours overlapped more or for longer" MAN SHUT UP. "self sabotage at best, under your spell/but you know what they say, if you want a job done right, you gotta do it yourself" ..........dude. if you're like me and you've poured over pete's oooold lj posts from the mid 2000s you already get it, but if you havent,,,go do it and get back to me bc this is TOO MUHC im unwell. "what is there between us if not a little annihilation?" i think i hauve covid

~ the kintsugi kid (ten years)

this song is really fucking sad actually. there's so much fear of being forgotten on this album and it's showcased really beautifully in this song,,,mayhaps not the most obviously petekey song but god damn

~ what a time to be alive

this song's about covid and quarantine n it's pretty easy on the whole suffering from a fling in 2005 thing! good job pete and fob

~ so much (for) stardust

this song is kinda suspicious but there's very few lines that really solidify it as a petekey song,,, altho "i think i've been going through it, and ive been putting your name through it" is a really interesting lyric. and OF COURSE, "in another life, you were my babe/in another life, you were the sunshine of my lifetime" happy xmas war is over

[jb-nonsense]

rough draft for my OC, Erik Balise, AKA Cipher 13.

The job had been simple enough. Locate an old, decrepit scientist on Nar Shaddaa. Apparently, he had been part of some Imperial science operations and the Empire was done with him. Erik hadn’t asked for further details; Extra information wasn’t required for this job. It was a typical cut and dry Imperial assassination. He had a duty to fulfill and work to be done. Tangling himself up in excess information would only distract from it.

He had studied the doctor’s apartments, and realized a sniper job wouldn’t be feasible. The windows were made from a specific durasteel which would only deflect his shots. The only other option for a sniper shot would be if the doctor would leave his apartment. And Erik had realized he was a bit of a homebody and only sent droids out to tend to his work. So infiltration was necessary. Not his style, per se, but he could manage it.

Access to the apartments was something he had to make do with; slicing into the security codes. It took a bit longer than he would have liked, but it was decent enough. He wasn’t detected so that was good enough. It wasn’t as if the doctor had anywhere to go, since he stayed home. Moving down the halls, noting the sensor droids ahead, he dropped behind a corner, taking out the small blaster at his hip and aiming, neutralizing it. He was getting close to his goal. He pulled out the vibroknife as he stood before the door of the doctor’s office. He let out a breath before the door slid open, entering the room.

Dark. His enhancements made it as clear as day, though. The pale, old, rotund male human sitting on the other side of the room, left eye replaced with a cybernetic, cybernetics along his jaw, on his right temple. Wrinkled and looking more like a Hutt than a human, a wheeze came out of his cybernetics at his nose.

“Dr. Manjeel,” Erik greeted, knife at the ready, “you’ve crossed the Empire for the last time.”

“Ah, I remember you,” he said with a wheezing chuckle. “So, the Empire has sent one of my projects to eliminate me?” Erik straightened a bit in his stance, brows furrowing a bit in confusion. “Don’t look so surprised. The Empire wants the best and I am the best. Who else would they have to implant your cybernetics, Cipher Agent 13?”

This changed nothing. He was still a target. He still needed to be eliminated. Another step closer.

“Or should I say...Dirrek Barane?”

Freeze. Pain. Every cell in his brain on fire. An inhuman cry came from his lips; but it felt foreign, as if it were not his own. A hand flew up, trying to dig out the silver cybernetic at his temple. He fell to his knees, a death grip on the knife in hand. He felt his stomach churning and every single nerve spiking through his body, convulsing and twisting. Blue eyes watched as Dr. Manjeel rose to a stand, and it appeared there were at least three of him. He couldn’t hear any steps; he couldn’t hear much but his own blood rushing in his ears.

“Did you really think the only purpose of your implants was enhancements? Don’t be ridiculous. You and I, we were only tools for the Empire. And the Empire only approves of restrained tools.” Cipher 13 clenched his teeth as he tried to focus on the other and his words. Trying to make sense, trying to work through the pain. “It’s like a slave collar but only more painful, isn’t it?”

“I’ll...Kill…you,” Erik snarled, struggling to stand. He felt his blood boil at the man’s mocking laugh.

“Good luck on being able to stand to do so. My guard droids will be here shortly to dispose of you and send you back to Imperial Intelligence.”

No. He wouldn’t allow that to happen. In a quick move with a pump of heated adrenaline, he managed to push himself up, slicing the knife in a precise motion at the center one’s neck. He felt the knife strike flesh and tore through the rest of the way, sending the doctor’s head rolling to the floor. Cipher 13 shook his head, the throbbing pain slowly fading away. He tapped the cybernetic implant, feeling how sore his temple was. He wiped the blood off his face, taking note of the blood splatter on his attire and the walls. Messy but quick. With a tired sigh, he turned to leave the room. He paused at the door, trying to piece together what had happened and what this meant. What was the name he had referred to him as? He had…No memory prior to starting his life as a Cipher. But even thinking about it caused a twinge of pain near where his cybernetics were located. Perhaps another time and another place…

“For The Empire.”

[that-one-dude-no-one-knows-about]

hand repaint job :D

idk if anyone noticed (probably not lmfao) but my hands' paint (aka; the fake blood and stuff) is pretty faded and almost nonexistent, that wasn't the case when I first bought the suit earlier this month lmfao, but it's fine it's fair, the maker (KodoKreations) apologized and even proposed to make me a new pair of hands 'cuz I've been getting a lot of issues with them since day one sadly enough

here's a better pic of the hands and how faded the paint is

+ a pic of the hands on the listing, quite different indeed, but I really don't mind, it gave me something to do on my day off of work :D

here's the repainted hands (back and front)

they're far from being perfect, I know, but hey they're better than before! They're still not entirely done yet but the biggest part is finished and I'm really happy with the result! :D i--ignore the Elmo plushie in the background geez lmfao

I tried to make them as similar to what they used to look like, but decided to give them my own little twist too (added glow in the dark paint to the claws~)

[almightyhamslice]

Insektober day 21: Reimagine (sorry its late lol)

It's the middle of winter. Staurolite stirs from his hibernation and looks around in the dark, sheet-covered room. No one else is awake. He pushes aside one of the sheets draped over the wall, silently exiting the room to take a walk. It's night time outside, and the ground is blanketed in snow. So this is what it looks like, Staurolite thinks. He glances through the arches separating the inside of the school from the cold outside world, shadows passing over him as he walks down the hallway in hopes to tire himself out. He sees another gem standing in the hall, just as surprised to see him as he is to see her! It's Lepidolite.

"What are you doing out here? Could you not sleep either?" He asks.

Lepidolite seems puzzled for a moment, but answers, "Ah? No."

"Um. Are you okay?" Staurolite asks, glancing down at Lepidolite's worn hands, the powder gradually fading off them.

"Fine! I just... wanted to see the snow. It's beautiful in this moonlight, isn't it?"

"Yeah... how's your outfit doing that?"

"Doing what?"

"It's so shiny it looks like light! Mine's just plain fabric."

"Don't be so harsh. Your gown's prettier than mine, and mine only shines sometimes!"

"Oh. Um. Thank you," Staurolite stammers, flattered.

"You should head back to sleep, I think."

"... When will I see you again?"

Lepidolite seems taken aback by the question. "Hey, don't worry about that okay? I have my job and you have yours. For now our meeting is a secret; the other gems can't know we were awake during hibernation! That's why I think you should go back now."

"What about you?"

"I'll be fine, I just want to watch the stars a moment longer."

---

Lepidolite is Aelia and Staurolite is Max! Lepidolite resides on the Moon with Fire Opal and his Lunarian friends, while Staurolite is an Earth gem that doesn't quite know where he belongs.

Today's drawing is surprisingly not a screenshot redraw, just a fake screenshot! I experimented with some texture brushes and glowy effects for this one, and also primarily drew it on streams. It's fun! I think I draw faster when ppl are watching me ngl. Though, it did take me a stupidly long amount of time to figure out the star brush I was supposed to use was literally "Spray" on CSP. Aka one of the default brushes that r RIGHT THERE in the airbrush category lmao.

[sayitan]

𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 .

a meme for first meetings and introduction threads, aka a ‘what you will notice about my muse first’ cheat sheet. repost, don’t reblog. bold what applies. fill in details. ( blank meme link )

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 .

sex: masculine. feminine. non-binary. notes: despite his rounded features and high cheekbones, neteyam's strong jawline and chin are distinctly masculine. similarly, his body build is distinctly masculine with pronounced muscle structure of his chest. race: na'vi / avatar hybrid complexion: skin pigmentation is an iridescent blue, typically cobalt and azure with distinctive navy / royal blue markings reminiscent of the earth's tiger stripes. his facial complexion is somewhat weathered from flight travel and when under cover of night, the bioluminescent spots that follow his nervous system appear like speckled starlight. height: 8'2" body type: endomorph. mesomorph. ectomorph. other / more details: like all na'vi, neteyam has a lean build with broad shoulders, a long nect, and a slim waist. standing at over eight foot, neteyam is still growing and is likely to reach over nine foot easily. he lives an extremely active lifestyle, as such his body is honed for extreme athletic feats and he has toned and defined muscle structure. body build: small. medium. athletic. muscular. soft. curvy. voluptuous. other / more details: when he blushes, the skin pigment around his ears, cheeks, and nose darken to an indigo blue. this flush can extend down his neck dependent on the extent of his embarrassment. body hair: none. shaves/waxes. trims/grooms. untamed. color: pitch black. his eyelashes, body hair, the patch of hair at the end of his tail and his head hair is a dark, obsidian black. notes: neteyam has no facial hair, like all other na'vi he doesn't grow facial hair. only his father, brother, and eldest sister kiri have eyebrow hair. head hair: none. buzzed. short. medium. long. very long. asymmetrical cut. color: neteyam's hair is a deep ebony black like every na'vi of the omaticaya clan. when shrouded in the dark, it can also reflect the bioluminescent light around him and can appear a deep midnight blue. style: neteyam styles his hair in traditional medium thickness box braids, the majority of his hair kept at shoulder length, while the hair at the base of his skull is woven into a large braid that wraps around his queue, or neural link, for protection. eye color: a warm pale gold, also described as pale sunlight gold, or amber gold. details: he styles two braids to frame the left side of his face, falling in front of his ear. he also styles coastal feathers and beads into the braids behind his right ear for decoration and accessory. scars: neteyam has several childhood and adolescent scars from routine accidents or mistakes made in training, most are focused around his arms and legs, though he has some faint marks only apparent under bright light. the most notable scars he has is a patch of discoloured skin on the right side of his back, and on his right shoulder. a remnant of the explosion from the transport job. with continued use of mo'at and kiri's healing salves, the scar tissue is expected to fade completely before the next winter.

𝐟𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐨𝐧 .

style: vintage. traditional. casual. practical. artsy. vibrant. geeky/nerdy. tomboy. sporty. trendy. preppy. girly. bohemian. elegant. formal. grunge. punk. rocker. gothic. other: neteyam dresses in traditional na'vi clothing, tanned hide and leather wraps and arm and leg guards, woven loincloths, as well as waxed thread bands and beaded cuffs and collars. neteyam also takes great pride in his omaticaya cummerbund, a waist belt that demonstrates his standing as an adult among the people. color palette: (for example: neutral colors, bold colors, only black, etc) neteyam dresses in natural colours, colours reminiscent of his surrounding environment. this typically includes shades of brown, orange, greens and blues. he will decorate his handmade collar's and armbands with riverstones, turquoise pebbles, and polished amber or crystals. typical clothing: neteyam rarely goes anywhere without his cummerbund. handwoven and decorated with a fern pattern that connects him back to the jungle and the omaticaya. piercings: none. tattoos: none other information: he also carries his ikran riding visor, handwoven with adjustable wraps, it fits securely around his forehead and protects his eyes from the high winds when he is flying, and serves to shield his eyes from rain as well.

𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 .

general facial expressions: calm and neutral, neteyam's expression is initially fairly intense in the way that he rarely lets his emotions show when he is not around his family or when he is in unfamiliar environments. when he does smile, his entire expressions often and he appears more his age. he smiles most often with his family and those he is most comfortable with, it is safe to assume that there are expressions that only his siblings and parents have seen. default body language: reserved, guarded, and alert. neteyam stands fairly stiff and appears very aware of his own body. while guarded, neteyam uses very forceful and direct body language, he points, he stands with his feet planted firmly on the ground, demonstrating his confidence with assertive body language traits. general movements: (example: do they have a limp? a unique walk?) neteyam has a wide gait, used to balancing the perilous tree branches and solid terrain of the jungles, he often shifts his weight fairly visibly from one foot to the other, giving his gait almost a full body sway. while his gait aids in his balance, it is quite noticeable to the eye.

𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 .

presence: (example: are they a calming presence? an antagonizing one?) neteyam has a somewhat unsuspecting presence, he carries himself confidently and with certainty, yet he does not go out of his way to take up room. this can often lead to neteyam being overlooked at first glance, holding himself away from the center and spotlight. appearance: (example: tidy, unkept, etc) clean and tidy, neteyam takes the time to keep his braids clean and tight, ensures his cummerbund and clothing is clean from the days excursions, using natural resources to wash the filth away and oils to maintain his gear and prolong their use. neteyam is almost obsessive about keep his gear in the best condition he can, that extends to his own appearance. scent: sunlight and ground sand, driftwood and sea salt, flax oils, and leaf. he has a very earthy scent and like most of the omaticaya, he smells of the dense jungles of pandora.

𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐞𝐜𝐡 .

voice description: his voice and tone meets a lower register but has a somewhat breathy and smooth incline. when upset his voice takes on a rougher edge, becoming somewhat tighter, almost like a sharp growl. accent: yes / no more information: his accent is distinctly omaticayan, with sharper inclines and shorter, choppier pronunciations. his accent becomes more audible when he speaks english and is very noticeable to other na'vi clans. speech mannerisms: (formal, informal, curses a lot, etc) he speaks casually when in every day environments and situations, when speaking to those of a higher authority to himself, he will speak respectfully, referring to them by their honorifics. he doesn't curse, when frustrated he will generally growl and groan/grunt. neteyam will often pause if he doesn't quite know what to say or if he needs time to think of what to say, he may "hm" to stall for time or to demonstrate to those he is talking with that he hasn't finished speaking.

𝐞𝐱𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐬 .

anything else to add? neteyam's facial expressions and body language is most similar to his mothers, he lacks jake's heavy footedness and expressiveness, while jake very clearly speaks and leads with his entire body, neteyam is more subdued. calmer, and more precise.

tagged by: nada tagging: @txelankong, @su11ys, @loahk, @ts1reya, @tukitrey, @neyite, @anarkissm ( nihlus ), @nursc, @aonugn, @javirana, @eywaborn

[back2bluesidex]

Hard Luck - JJK & KTH (18+) - Chapter 1 [Teaser]

◆ Pairing: CEO Jungkook X Fem employee Reader X Legal advisor Taehyung. 

◆ Summary: You have a good face, a nice body, a fat amount saved in your secondary bank account, a stable job that you love, loving friends and family, you are good in bed. You have almost everything other than a good luck in love. Sleeping around with random dudes don’t feel enough when your friends are getting married and having kids. If you are being honest, you have started getting bored of this prolonged singlehood already. 

Your last light of hope fades away when your work crush, aka the hot guy from the legal department, Kim Taehyung (with whom you might or might not have slept once, okay! twice!), asks you to set him up with your work best friend (who, apparently, is the most asked out woman of the company). But what you don’t know is that the CEO of the company has taken a liking to you and has set out on a mission of winning your heart. 

But wait… Taehyung might have started developing feelings for you in the process of receiving your help!!!

◆ Chapter Summary: Two meetings - One went good - another went downhill.

◆ Theme: Romance, drama, light angst, my poor attempt of humor, fluff and eventual smut. office romance au. co-workers to lovers au.

◆ Posting Date: 12th June

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

Full Chapter is posted on Patreon (Early access available for Patreon members)

The elevator door slides open, revealing a certain someone you look for a lot these days. 

Taehyung smiles brightly at you. Two strands of his dark hair fall on his forehead, his siren eyes are full of mirth as they quickly dip down to check you out. But then his eyes fall on Hani. And if you are not wrong then they have a brief eye-contact before someone behind asks you and your friend to get inside and make space already. 

An odd feeling blooms inside your chest. 

Taehyung checked you out, that’s for sure. But what were those love eyes that he regarded Hani with? Did he just fall in love at first sight or something of that sort? 

You settle inside the dingy space of the elevator rather uncomfortably - both physically and metaphorically. 

Hani is standing in front of you and Taehyung is just behind your back. You are sandwiched between the two of them and weirdly enough - you don’t feel too good about the situation. Because you can see Taehyung staring at Hani through the glazed metal door or the elevator. Something churns inside of you at the thought of Taehyung being smitten by your work best friend. 

But maybe you are thinking too much? Maybe time will soon prove you wrong.

Note: not tagging anyone since this is the teaser. taglist will be activated when I post the full chapter. [Taglist is closed]

[tatsuki-fujimotos-toe-beans]

Ok I just finished my 3rd run of bg3 and I think I'm done for a while atleast. I've been playing it like it's my full time job for like 2-3 weeks now forsaking all human contact pretty much and I think at this point I've squeezed as much content as I can be bothered for.

First run as what I'd say was normal for me, I played as a barbarian first and then swapped to wizard when I recruited karlach (which didnt happen until almost act 2 because I just kinda ignored wylls quest and honestly didnt realise I was missing a companion lol. Finished the game with my lesbian harem of karlach laezel and shadowheart

2nd run I went for a paladin build. This time I decided I was gonna be 100% good (as opposed to like 70% good) and so I took oath of the ancients. Managed to keep it for most of the run too but had to google some stuff and pay off the oathbreaker knight once. This time I also had laezel but I tried to include astarion more since people on tumblr keep frothing over him but he was still kinda meh for me until I looked up how to use rogues in combat. Unfortunately he still didn't like anything I did but atleast I found lockpicking a lot easier with his insane proficiencies.

3rd run I finally played durge and did the "resist" playthrough. This was def where my interest really started to fade because while durge adds a lot it's not like it's a whole new game or anything. The extra content was fun but a lot of times throughout this playthrough outside of the durge specific parts I felt like I was kinda doing chores. Like I'd sit down and be like ugh ok let's do this and this and this and I was kinda just numb to most of it. I think that helped in a way to make the more durge like decisions and being evil overall even tho I played a resist playthrough where I was basically as "good" as possible.

I have an idea for a 4th run where I go basically solo or with some hirelings ig and just go full dark urge. And ofc theres the companions stories themselves like playing as the characters. But I think I've kinda gotten so much out of this game that outside of the solo full durge run theres not gonna be a lot more content left. Main issue with replayability imo is the quality of life which makes the game absolutely miserable sometimes.

But yea now I'm hitting like the serious post game depression and I really want to find some other game to completely dedicate my life to but that's probably unhealthy lol

I think the best thing that came out of my bg3 experience was the complete lack of league of legends in the time I was playing it. Before bg3, even if I was playing other games I kinda came and went and played some league here and there in the middle of those games and in between games. This is honestly probably the longest I've ever gone without playing league since I started in 2018. And the thing that is stopping me from going back now is the fact that I had to get used to wasd controls for the camera in bg3 and I was absolutely dogshit at them and I still am now. But I tried playing an aram recently and tried to accidentally move my camera using wasd and kept automatically alt left clicking the bodies of the enemy champs as if they were gonna drop loot lmao. So yea I've lost a lot of my mechanics at league and honestly that's probably for the best for now.

Still kinda want an obsession to sink into but I'll resist the urge for now. I want to play titanfall 2 and armored core both so that's gonna be a bit of time. And uni stuff is probably gonna start soon and take up a bunch of my time so that's gonna be interesting for a bit. I'm somewhat trapped between doing the easy thing which is to become obsessed with something new and doing the hard thing which I want to do: aka live an normal and balanced life. Tough stuff.

[choilaura]

My OC 'Vossler Valentine' (formerly 'Hewley')

Hey all! How is everyone doing? I've actually decided, after almost a year, to post up my OC 'Vossler Lucius Valentine' AKA 'Voss' AKA 'V'

I have been playing him in RP (roleplaying) scenario's, since 2009, and I've decided to share him all with you! He once started out as my own character from FinalFantasy VII (7) and has a lot of backstory behind him. Those who know characters from FF7, may know the character 'Angeal Hewley' and so i wrote him as Angeal's older SOLDIER brother. Over the past couple of years, he has really evolved as a character, and one i've introduced into the MCU, thanks to some amazing creativity between me and my longest friend, Larissa, and other people here on Tumblr. So, with that said, I'd like to introduce him to you here, and just get some general opinion and feedback on him! I will try to keep it brief, but i just love adding detail about all sorts of things on here. My BIG THANKS to my roleplaying friends over this past year! You're all so amazing, and you'd all given so much love to V already! Vossler Valentine, off you go into the MCU! (AU) This is loosly tied to the events of the MCU, with a bit of AU thrown in too.

Vossler Valentine, stands at about 5' 8", with long dark brown hair, which is waist length, often braided into a 'fishtail' braid. He has striking green eyes, infused with the powers of his own universe, which stand out against his tanned skin. Today, he has a soft '5 o clock shadow', but most days, he is clean shaven. He has a scar on his face, which starts from the left side of the bridge of his nose, narrowly ending at his jawline. This was from an accident long ago. His age - thirty seven, though when clean shaven, looks more like thirty five. His green eyes tell a story - many stories infact, ones of adventure, pain, love, hurt, but you know what they say 'fortune favours the bold' though this hasn't always been in his favour. His hobbies? A black belt in Taekwondo, reading, sparring drills, doing 'slow side kick exercises', spirituality, mentoring, stoic, yet kind, and firm, easy going.

SO, how did he wind up in the MCU? This part follows next.. THE STORY - SO FAR -

Vossler was called upon from his universe, to the SHIELD agency, with connections to Howard and Maria Stark, and so had met a certain college guy named 'Tony Stark', who at the time was in college, and through college Tony met a young trainee Doctor called 'Steven Strange' who gave Vossler a frosty, jealous attitude as their friendship grew closer, the more Steven was away training to become a doctor. At this moment, Vossler is just over 30. Vossler quickly became friends with the young Tony Stark, and of course, as things go, friends become something more..friends who develop feels, one curious about the others universe, the other, falling for the charm and tenacity of Howard Stark's son. Friendship soon turns to 'friendship with benefits', and after a few heated hook up's and flings, Vossler is called back to assist SHEILD, and becomes involved further in what would be the death of Peter Parkers parents, as a witness. It is at this time, that Vossler is entrusted to become the young Parker's guardian and protector, on the basis that the child stays under the further protection of Tony stark, also bereaved of his own parents death. The idea behind this is to give Tony 'something to do' other than party/drink/mayhem lifestyle, according to Voss. Steven Strange returns from training, and the three of them live together, with Voss fading into the background...a silent protector. Vossler's job, is to do simply that - protect. Protect, Protect, Protect, and signs a contract under Tony Stark, body guarding both Stark, and young Parker. Feelings re-ignite once more, between Stark and Valentine, under this 'special relationship' that is formed, and Stark continues to be Vossler's boss, giving him access to tech, of which V refuses. The power play between Stark and Valentine intensifies, particulary after a night of heavy drinking on Stark's part, and Vossler shows up on scene, finding Tony drunk in the office. Things become heated, and Stark and Valentine kiss, which leads to a heated night between them. This goes on for months, the 'special relationship' continues, and Vossler falls in love with Tony. The two eventually call it off just before Vossler's 35th birthday, with Tony gifting Voss a silver 'V' initial necklace, telling him it was a 'gift of friendship'. Voss later, is called back to his universe, leaving behind Peter, and Tony, and Steven, who has been involved in a terrible car accident.

Part two of his story will follow. For now, here is a list of music that inspires me to write Voss. Prompto's solitude - FinalFantasy XV (volume two soundtrack) Is this love? - Whitesnake Don't stand so close to me - The Police Face my fears - Utada Hikaru (english version)

[justthehiddleswrites]

Accidently Married | Tom Hiddleston x OFC | Chapter 2 | Be Careful with Clive, I Have Grown Attached to Him

A/N:  Tom makes certain comments about an ex (who is unnamed).  It is a fictional girlfriend, take from it what you will.  Keep your hate to yourself.  

SERIES MASTERLIST HERE

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x OFC (Molly Bishop)

Summary: Tom is stuck in a news cycle from hell; Molly is stuck in the dead end job of bartending with a pile of student and credit debt.  Tom has an idea to solve all their problems.  Get married, get the paparazzi off his back, divorce after a year and Tom pays off Molly’s debts.  Tom has everything figured out, that is until he sees Molly as more than a just a friend and so does someone else.  In this vying for affections who will win, the handsome Brit or the boy from Boston?

This Chapter: Tom and Molly are now married.  Surprise! These two talk about the logistics of Tom’s half-baked plan.  And Molly moves to London to face the firing squad, aka the paparazzi.  

Warnings: fake marriage, smut (vaginal sex), mentions of:  child abuse/neglect, foster care, substance abuse, cheating.

TAGLIST IS OPEN! PLEASE LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT TO BE TAGGED!  THANK YOU FOR READING!

–

After they signed the license along with the apostille, there had been dancing. That much Molly remembered. And drinking. Specifically drinking champagne. Tom danced with abandon, pulling Molly into the whirlwind of activity he created around him.

But now it was morning, and Molly woke up in a bed that wasn’t her own. She groaned as her head pounded, having forgotten that champagne and her have a love-hate relationship. Molly saw the faint outline of Tom asleep on the couch, his long body stretched out, still wearing his suit from last night. After glancing at the alarm clock, Molly fell back asleep.

Several hours, Molly woke up again and headed to the bathroom, not noticing the now opened curtains.

“Hey good lookin, Whatcha got cookin,” Tom’s voice twanged as he stepped out of the shower. His head pounded a bit, but not the worst hangover he had.

“AHHH!!!” Molly screamed as she stepped into the bathroom.

They both froze, which was more embarrassing for Tom, as at least Molly was still wearing her dress from last night.

“You’re naked.” Molly blinked, her head darting around the room until she focused on an interesting corner of the room.

Tom chuckled, grabbing a towel and wrapping it loosely around his waist. “I don’t normally shower in my clothes. You can look back now.”

She slowly turned back around. “Sorry.” She shuffled her feet. “I should have knocked.”

“It’s quite alright.” He moved towards the door. “Shower is yours and we should talk things over.”

Molly nodded. “We should.”

While Molly showered, Tom dressed in the other room. After finding a clean t-shirt for Molly to wear over her dress until she could change, he called the airlines and changed his single ticket for that morning to a later flight for two, fishing Molly’s ID out of her wallet.

“Thanks for the shirt.” she stepped out.

“It looks good on you.” Tom gestured to the sofa. “Sit. Would you like some breakfast?” Her stomach growled. They both laughed. “That would be a yes.” Tom shoved the room service menu. “Order what you like.”

She selected an egg white frittata while Tom got the pancakes. Tom put in the order and returned his attention to Molly.

“So let’s talk about how this will work.” Tom shifted in his seat.

“An excellent idea. You mentioned living together in London. When do we leave?”

“This afternoon.”

Molly coughed. “That quick?”

“I’m afraid so.” Tom’s hands fidgeted in his lap. She noticed he was still wearing the spider ring. “I have work obligations back home and in order for it to be believable you would need to live with me.”

“Naturally.” Molly slapped her thighs. “So after breakfast, I can head back to my apartment, pack up what little I have, say goodbye to my roommate, and change into appropriate clothing. And you need to get us some proper rings.” She waved her hot pink ring in the air. “Unless of course you intend for your bride to wear a ring from the top of a cupcake.”

“Only if I get to keep my ring. I’ve grown quite attached to Clive.”

She raised an eyebrow. “You named the spider?”

“Yes.” There was a knock on the door. “That will be the food. Allow me.” He disappeared and returned shortly with a rolling table, ladened with food. Tom poured a cup of coffee and offered one to Molly.

“I don’t drink coffee.”

“I can have them bring up a teapot.”

“I’m pretty sure there are some complimentary ones in the room. Now,” She cut into her food and took a bite. “how will everything else work? Living with you, your life, the paparazzi? That is the whole point of this charade.”

“You do get down to business. So yes, I would expect you to live in my home. In a separate bedroom, I can set up another room as an office for you. We would need to attend events together and generally appear as a loving couple on the outside.”

“And my debts? That is part of the deal, right?”

“Right,” Tom gazed over at her while eating his pancakes. “I would assume the payments while we are together, and after the divorce is final, I would pay off any balance. I would also take care of your daily expenses while we are married. You are welcome to work if you want, but I will give you spending money.”

“So I would be a trophy wife?” Her brown eyes glinted.

Tom waved his hands in front of him. “Not that is not what I meant… I…”

“I am kidding, Tom. If you prefer, I can not work. I don’t mind. Give me some time to figure things out.” A thought came to her. “What about…” Molly searched for the words. “… other needs? Or if you wish to engage in a romantic relationship?” Her cheeks blushed as the words fell out of her mouth.

Tom blushed as well. “I have great self-control and I think if either of us get to that point, we can discuss it. I don’t want you to feel trapped.”

“And I don’t want you to be trapped either. I guess that is as good of an answer I could expect. Anything you want to ask me?”

Tom stared at Molly. The air hung heavy. “Do you regret saying yes?”

“No. Do you regret asking?”

“No.”

Molly downed the rest of her juice. “Well then, it is all settled. I am going to take off to pack. And you have some shopping to do. My ring size is a 7.”

Tom finished up the last bite of pancakes. “Right. We need to leave here by 3 to make it to the airport.”

“I shouldn’t be more than a few hours. Do you have a key to the room I could borrow?”

Tom fished one out of his discarded jacket’s pocket. “Here I will have the front desk make me another one.”

She tapped the key against her nails. “Thanks, Tom. For the help and for being a decent guy.”

“I should be thanking you.”

“You already have.” She grabbed her purse and headed out the door.

-

Tom headed downstairs, asked the front desk for a new key to the room, and also inquired where the nearest jewelry store might be. The front clerk handed him a key and directed him to a small collection of luxury stores in the hotel. He found Tiffanys and purchased a classic platinum solitaire engagement ring and plain platinum band for Molly and a yellow gold band for himself.

Molly wasn’t back when he returned, so he set about packing up for the flight. His phone buzzed. Luke.

It appears you had a good time in Vegas. The papers say you are drowning your sorrows. Looks like the story is here to stay. Call me when you wake up from your nap at home.

Tom typed back.

I did have a good time. I have a feeling the papers will soon find another story soon. Still in Vegas, taking a later flight. Talk to you soon.

His phone rang. He clicked it off, seeing it was Luke. Rather to get all the yelling done in person. The door opened and Molly came in, dragging a suitcase behind.

“Sorry! My roommate had questions.”

“So does my publicist.”

Tom took in Molly for the first time, really. Outside of the light of a casino floor. And not in a wedding dress purchased for fifty dollars on the way to the chapel. She wore faded jeans, a pair of beat up black Converse and a boxy white tee tucked in. A large black cardigan tucked under her arm. Dark hair in a bun. Quite lovely, if Tom told the truth.

“Are you in some sort of trouble?” Her brows knitted together.

“Not yet.” Tom tucked his phone into his jean pocket. “Here.” He pulled out the little blue bag.

Molly gasped. “I thought you would go buy some costume jewelry. This is too much.”

“Nonsense. This marriage may be fake, but the jewelry will be real.” Tom opened up the boxes. “May I do the honors?”

Molly held out her hand, and Tom slipped off the plastic ring before replacing it with the wedding set. “Much better. And yours?”

Tom slapped the box into her hand. “Be careful with Clive.” Molly pursed her lips as she pulled off the spider ring and replaced it with the gold band, putting the plastic ring in the Tiffanys box. “Here you go. Clive’s new home.”

Tom tucked the box into his luggage. “Ready to go?”

Molly rocked back on her heels. “Yep.”

Tom held out his arm. “Let’s go home, Mrs. Hiddleston.”

-

The flight back was uneventful, Molly and Tom dozed off, leaning against each other for support. Molly woke up first. She stared down at her rings. This was not how she expected this weekend going. Molly thought she would scrap together enough tips to make an extra payment on her credit card. Not flying to London with a Tiffany diamond ring on her finger and a famous actor as her husband.

“Life does throw you curveballs from time to time.”

“What was that, darling?” Tom muttered, stretching in his seat.

“Just commenting on the craziness of all of this to myself.” She held out her hand again. Tom laced his fingers with hers.

“I have done the same thing myself. Now when we land, there will probably be paparazzi around. Are you up for getting this whole thing off and running?”

Molly perked up. “What do I need to do?”

-

Tom tightly gripped Molly’s hand throughout the concourse and baggage claim. They eyed the doors.

“Ready?” she asked, squeezing his hand.

“I promise to be gentle.” Tom squeezed back, smiling.

As they stepped through the doors, Tom flashed a killer smile and Molly did as well, giggling as his arm wrapped around her waist. He leaned over and pressed his lips to hers. Molly melted against him, making sure her rings were visible as she cupped his cheek. She was right, Tom was an excellent kisser. After making sure any photographers had plenty of time to snap a pic, they parted.

“Think they got my good side?” Molly giggled.

“Do you have a bad side?” Tom asked.

“Just wait and see. Now take me home, darling!” She threw her arm over her eyes dramatically.

“Drama queen.” Tom pinched her side.

-

Tom’s home was cozy and clean. Definitely a bachelor’s home, as evidenced by the empty fridge except for a few bottles of beer and some questionable brown sauce.

“I can go shopping later.” Tom dragged a toe along the kitchen floor.

“I can go shopping later.” She reached up and smacked his face playfully. “What kind of wife would I be if I didn’t feed my husband?”

“Fair point. I will call the bank tomorrow and get a card in your name. Just run any big purchases past me first. And we will need to get your name changed, passport, etc. I can have someone help you.” Tom prattled on.

“Why don’t you show me the rest of the place first?”

Tom held out his arm. “This way.”

Tom’s book collection was impressive along with his collection of movies.

“I clear some space if you need it.”

“I only packed clothes. My roommate is selling the rest, including my car and wiring me the money.”

“Oh.” Tom’s face fell. “Let me show you the bedrooms.”

He showed you a small guest room. “This could be an office for you and next door is a bigger bedroom for you.” Tom hustled along the hallway to open the next door. “Here.”

It was a bigger room with a queen bed and a wardrobe. Spare and clearly used for company.

“It will do just fine. And the bathroom is across the hall which is nice. Where’s your room?”

Tom made his way to the end of the hall and opened the door to his room, decorated in tones of grey and navy. A large king sized bed taking up most of the room along with a dresser. A bathroom en suite and a small closet completed the space.

“Very nice. Do you mind if I steal the color palette to decorate my room?”

“Please do. I never got around to decorate it. My sisters and mother are the only ones who stay in there.”

Molly paled a bit. She hadn’t thought about Tom’s family. “I supposed I will meet them soon.”

“I supposed so. It would be odd for my wife not to meet them. I hadn’t thought about it.”

Molly rocked back and forth. “Now why don’t I go shopping and you unpack and relax?”

“I would feel better if I came with you. You are in a different country, a strange city. And what if you have problems with the card?”

“Then let’s go and you can point out some of your favorite foods.”

“It’s a deal.”

-

“When I said pick out your favorite foods, I didn’t expect it to be only sweets. Did I marry a seven-year-old?”

“I’m 35, thank you. and I enjoy those sweets.”

“You eat like a college frat boy.”

“Guilty.”

“That is definitely changing now that I am around. You can’t continue to eat like that. There are things called vegetables.”

Tom snapped his fingers. “I’ve heard of those.”

“Get out of here!” Molly swatted at him. “I am certain you have things to attend to, and I need to familiarize myself with the kitchen.”

“Are you kicking me out of my kitchen?”

“Our kitchen. And yes.” Molly smirked.

“I yield! I yield. I’ll be in my study if you need me.” Tom walked out of the kitchen and towards his study.

He spied his phone sitting on the desk, still off from the flight. By now, any pictures should have been posted somewhere. Tom collapsed into his desk chair and clicked the phone on. While he waited for it to start up, he could overhear Molly puttering about in the kitchen, muttering to herself as she put away the groceries.

Buzz. Ten messages and eleven missed calls. He didn’t bother to listen to them and instead dialed Luke.

“Luke, I’m back in town. Thought I wou—” Tom started in as soon as Luke picked up.

“I WASN’T FUCKING SERIOUS WHEN I SAID TO GET MARRIED??! HAVE YOU LOST YOUR FUCKING MIND?!”

Tom pulled the phone away from his ear. “No, I haven’t. But I am married. To a wonderful girl. Her name is Molly. Molly Bishop. You should meet her, Luke.”

“YOU ARE FUCKING RIGHT I’LL MEET HER. AS SOON AS POSSIBLE! SHE CAN HELP IDENTIFY YOUR BODY, THOMAS!” Luke continued to scream on the phone.

“Can you dial back the volume, Luke? I would like to preserve my hearing. Is there something wrong with marrying the woman I love?”

Luke cleared his throat. Tom understood Luke was doing his best to collect himself. “Apologies. There is nothing wrong with marrying the woman you love, Tom. Nothing at all. Except I don’t think you love this woman, since until a few weeks ago you were in love with—”

“Don’t say her name, it will ruin my marital bliss. I’m a hopeless romantic, Luke.”

“Hopeless, yes. Romantic, the jury is still out. And your fans don’t count, they are blinded by you. But I see the truth.”

“Which is?”

“You are not as smart as you think you are.”

“Did any of the articles mention her?” Tom inquired, spinning his wedding band on his finger.

“No.”

“Then I am exactly as smart as I think I am.”

There was a clatter from the kitchen.

“Tom!” Molly called out. “I need your help.”

“Got to go, Luke. My wife needs my help.” Tom emphasized the word “wife.”

“This isn’t over, Tom.”

“It never is. Bye.”

More clattering and another cry. “Tom!”

Tom rushed into the kitchen to find Molly perched on top of the kitchen counter, reaching high into a cabinet.

“Why is everything so high in here?”

Tom chuckled and reached around her, pressing his torso against her back. Molly jumped for a moment at the touch.

“I’m not used to sharing my space. I’m six two, I put things where I can reach them. What are you grabbing?”

“The roasting pan.”

Tom pulled it down and placed it on the counter. His phone buzzed in his pocket. He ignored it.

“Thank you. Well, I am five six, so unless you want me climbing counters for the next year, we need to rearrange some things.”

“But you’re so cute climbing around like a little monkey.”

Molly frowned. “Is that supposed to be a compliment? If so, then try again.”

Tom opened his mouth and closed it. “I’ll pull things down after dinner.”

“Thank you.” She rubbed his arm. “Now to try my hand at a roast dinner. Did you get stuff done?”

His phone buzzed again.

“I called my publicist. The pictures posted.” Tom pulled out his phone to shut it off.

“Oh good. So I take it, I had the desired effect.” Molly crunched on a carrot and offered one to Tom, who wrinkled his nose.

The two of you. My office 8 a.m. tomorrow. No excuses. I want to meet the blushing bride.

Tom frowned at the screen.

“It would appear so. I suggest you go to bed early because you are meeting Luke, my publicist tomorrow.”

Molly’s mouth fell open. “Should I be worried?”

Tom smiled at her. “No, I should be.”

[ve1vetyoongi]

wherever you will go | jjk

Pairing: Jungkook x female reader

Genre: actor!oc, director!jungkook, smut, angst, humour.

Word count: 21k

Summary:  Not much happens when you grow up by the coast. Tourists come and go, the theatre where you work shows the same shows over and over and there’s always sand and salt in the air. Your dreams of making it big in the city are exactly that: dreams. When your hopes of becoming an actress are shattered into a million pieces, you find yourself getting drawn to a captivating up-and-coming movie director by the name of Jeon Jungkook. With his bright eyes and charming smile, he seems determined to glue your pieces back together -- even if it means leaving Ocean City behind for good.

Warnings: themes of loss/grief, mentions of death of a parent, dom!jungkook, dom/sub themes, spanking, squirting, unprotected sex, oral sex (f recieving).

Rating: Mature.

A/N: Hello loves! HAPPY JK DAY!! This fic is a lil celebration of our golden boy Jungkook so I hope you enjoy!! This whole fic is sickeningly fluffy and reads like a pretentious YA novel but ya girl wrote this while she was stuck in quarantine a few weeks ago and I debated not posting this bc I lowkey love it lowkey hate it so pleasedonthateme if it’s bad LOL. Also -- just incase you haven’t read the warnings already there is a running theme that deals with the loss of a parent (a topic very close to my heart, hence why this piece was especially healing to write.) so reader discretion is advised if that is triggering to you in any way shape or form!!!! P.P.S Largely unedited so pls bare with any mistakes!

Prelude.

You're late for your work shift, you note, as you catch sight of your watch face glaring up at you menacingly from the arm clutching the handle bars of your bike. As if your mood couldn't get any more miserable -- the dreary morning drizzle that falls from the sky and drips icily down the back of your nape was bad enough.

Goddamn, you groan to yourself as you will your feet to pedal ever faster. Now my hair is gonna be frizzy.

It's a Saturday and the theatre where you work always opens earlier at the weekends. You promised you'd be on time today, but yet here you are, speeding down the worn in sandy sidewalks of your seaside town a whole block away when you should've been opening up half an hour ago.

It's a habit of yours, being late. And as hard as you try, you just can't change a habit. But it can't be helped you suppose. Continuity is all you've ever known. That's the thing about living in a tiny seaside town. Things never change.

The view from your bedroom window has been the same for as long as you can remember — Ocean City — Aka, block after block of rainbow coloured houses with flaky paint leading up to the harbour where boats bob nonchalantly and fishermen reel in their catches beneath the gull filled sky. Beyond it the beach; greyish rolling waves and upturned pebbles nestled atop of hard sand in the winter and clear water and brightly coloured beach towels and brave surfers in the summer.

Nobody ever leaves, and the tourists that arrive in summer never stay. Life becomes a predictable practice, just each day lived out to the next in an endless cycle of never ending continuity. It's suffocating and endless and sometimes you feel like you're just a pawn on a giant chess board, destined to move one agonising square forward at a time, never diagonally. It's hard to change directions when you've been taught to stick to what you know.

You didn't always live here, in this town of continuity. You lived in the big city for a while, where no day was the same as another. But after your mother died you and your older brother were shipped off to live with your dad, who wouldn't know the definition of adapting if it hit him square in the face. He's always been the same square shouldered, balding dude in his forties who never wanted kids and never quite got over losing your mother to the big buck actor she ran off with when you were two.

So that's how you ended up here. Late for work at your job in the country's most prized vacation spot. And your boring reality.

You roll past the beach huts on the shoreline that alternate between vibrant pink and muted blue, barely paying attention to the boardwalk with its little boat house that stretches out into the horizon like a crooked finger. When it gets dark, you can spot the pier carnival lights flashing in the distance from here as they dance across the reflection of the pale white moon and play among the waves.

Even now, the yellow lights of the ornate street lamps that line the water's front shine like tiger's eyes against the sky just like they always have when you turn down the familiar route that takes you past the winding lanes of trinket shops and the happy hour bars and the carnival that feels strangely empty at such an early hour, not a single rollercoaster ride in operation.

Before long you're skidding to a stop outside of the The Crestmont, the old theatre where you work. It's everything you'd expect from a vintage cinema; pink and blue neon lights and a gold trimmed ticket booth out front with a three-sided marquee that extends from the front of the building like a brightly lit airport runway. You hurry beneath it, grateful for the protection it provides from the rain that has started to come down in lashes now, before heading over to the rack around the back of the building where you can chain your bike.

The Crestmont used to be somewhat of a hotspot back in the day or so your told, but these days it only shows cartoons at a discounted price for the neighbourhood kids and the occasional local production of some worn out musical everyone has seen a hundred times before. It's lost all it's magic, everyone says. But you disagree; you probably spend more time here than anyone, and there's magic in every inch of this place.

From the red velvet curtains to the grand chandelier, The Crestmont is one of a kind. Sometimes you disappear into the theatre by yourself for a while unbeknownst to your manager. You can almost taste the laughter and the tears and the love that has been spilled and shared unapologetically amongst these seats. Pure magic.

Your mom left a piece of herself here, too. If you close your eyes you can hear her laughter spilling out into the theatre, or her lilting singing voice filling every nook and cranny like a haunting siren. She was the Crestmont's star. Ocean City's sweetheart.

There's a wall of fame in the lobby. It's covered in portraits crested with gold frames, all filled with pictures of the Crestmont's greatest performers. You've spent hours there — (turns out it's the perfect hiding spot from your manager) — fingers tracing the plaques beneath each one, all inscribed with names that townsfolk whisper with dreamy looks in their eyes. Some are black and white, some colour, but all of them depict pretty faces with beaming smiles that never seem to fade.

Not even your mom's. Her smile is pearly and bright, right above the plaque with her birthdate. And her death date.

And right there at the end, an empty frame. Your frame. You can feel it. You already know how you'll pose for your picture. Hair over one shoulder, hand on hip, smile so convincing that it'll be like every happiness in your heart is written right across your forehead proudly, and you won't have to dull it any longer.

You finish hooking a chain around the handlebars of your bike, catching sight of your reflection in the darkened windows. Staring back at you is a girl dressed in a maroon v-neck with a preppy dicky bow tied around her collar. You frown. The white shirt itches and the high waisted pants make your crotch look weird but the uniform is compulsory. The only thing uglier is the sour expression on your face, which you try to smooth out with your thumb, experimenting with plastering a sickly smile to your face instead. It might be convincing if your lips didn't strain and your eyes weren't so prone to rolling without your permission.

You need to learn to hide your emotions, your father said. You have your feelings written across your face. Customers don't like that.

It's true; customer's didn't usually like you, your unforgiving face or when you spilled cola down their blouse or spat in their popcorn. One more complaint and you were on the path to being fired once and for all, and although in some ways you would be glad to say goodbye to the stupid slushie machine that always gets stuck and the ungrateful customers and the goddamn uniform, you can't loose this job.

Not when it's your ticket to making it big. Then customers will point to your picture as they pass and clutch their chest with a snide superiority, Oh! Can you believe she served me a cola once? I always knew she was gonna make it! instead of Would it kill you to smile a little, honey?

So you swallow a sigh and make your smile as convincing as possible and march inside of the ornate theatre doors of The Crestmont, hoping that today may be the day where things finally change for once.

Where it begins

"I'm going to work!" You call as you you pull a baseball cap down over your hair to cover it's unbrushed wildness. "I won't be back for a while so don't wait up, okay Taehyung?"

You pause with your hand on the door, listening carefully for a response; the small house you live in pulsates with the bass of some indie rock album your brother and his friends are obsessed with at the moment, and your eyes roll when you peer up the staircase and find Taehyung's bedroom door firmly closed like always.

With a shake of your head you scribble out a message on a sticky note — GONE 2 WORK. — and leave it for him to read when he eventually emerges from his man cave in search of sustenance and finds you gone.

You brush away the funny ache that nestles in your stomach. This is nothing new. You're used to not being heard. Your dad is always gone for trips you suspect involve more play than work, and your older brother pretends he's not broken by hanging around with the neighbourhood cool kids and barraging himself in his room for days on end. Despite living under one roof it feels as though you're miles apart, an invisible barrier separating you indefinitely.

You weren't always like this; distant, always stepping on eggshells around each other. You were a family once. A happy one. But since the accident there's been an absence in this house, and nothing has been the same since.

Still, you know that beneath Taehyung's standoffish persona, he's still your big brother. He worries about you. So you tack the note to the fridge and make your way outside.

The lawn is already brown despite it only being late May, and summer is shaping up to be hot and sticky, though you live two blocks away from the beach so the coolness of the ocean still thankfully pervades against your perspiring skin, the gulls already calling you with their high pitched squaks from down at the shoreline.

You've barely made it to the end of the drive before there's the sound of knuckles rapping against glass. You look up and your heart jumps into your mouth. Staring back at you is a pair of dark eyes from behind the upstairs windowpane. Even from this distance you can see how they shine, deep and dark like a cup of black coffee, and you'd recognise the annoyingly cute smirk that matches them anywhere.

Jungkook. Jeon Jungkook. Taehyung's best friend, and, unfortunately, your crush for as long as you knew what the word love meant.

"Hey, Y/N!" Your heart sinks when the window slides open and a messy head of brown hair sticks out through the gap and points at you with a pout. "You're leaving already? Without me?"

Oh; another thing about Jeon Jungkook. He's also your co-worker, which means you spend 16 hours a week in his company, much to the glee of your heart and the dismay of your conscience.

You weren't exactly surprised when you turned up to the Crestmont theatre for your first shift and were left in the capable hands of none other than Jungkook to teach you the ins and the outs of the popcorn machine and the ticket booth.

For as long as you've known him he's been somewhat of a film buff. He practically grew up holding a camera. You always used watch him and your brother making home movies in the backyard, fit with ketchup sachets for blood and endless costumes from your mom's closet. And the one time you stayed at his house when your dad went away for a while after the accident, you saw all the classic movie posters on his bedroom wall; Casablanca, Singing in the Rain, Jaws. So it made total sense for Jungkook to be at the Crestmont. In fact, you couldn't imagine him anywhere else.

That day you were mostly just surprised that he knew who you were at all. While you had spent years watching him from your bedroom window while he kicked a ball around with Taehyung or avoiding his eyes at the table when he stayed for dinner, he had never so much as glanced in your direction.

Deep down you think the reason he was so quick to take you under his wing is because he knew first hand how hard the accident hit your family. You suppose he feels he owes it to Taehyung to keep you in high spirits.

Although if you weren't you and he wasn't him, you'd swear Jungkook's attentions had become almost flirtatious as of late. He always goes the extra mile to spend time with you, and you even though you know it'll end up with you getting hurt you can't bring yourself to stop him.

You see, Jungkook has a gift for subtle charm. Like how he always sneaks you sodas out back on your lunch break, never forgetting the extra syrup — tooth rottingly sweet just how you like it — slipping one of his own dollars into the cash register to avoid a telling off from your manager. Or how he insists on helping you clean up after the theatre is empty, showing you the best secret places like down the back off seats to find misplaced trinkets and the creaky floorboard where your manager hides his cigarettes. How he insists on walking you home after the evening shift, even if he says he's going this way to see Taehyung anyway.

You've spent countless hours pondering over whether his sweet talking words mean as much to him as they do to you. And as much as you know it's unlikely for someone like Jeon Jungkook to ever have feelings for you, you can't help the way your heart speeds up every time he shoots you one of his signature bunny smiles that light up his whole face like he's happiness personified. And you can't bring yourself to hate him for it.

"I did call," you respond matter of factly, finally sucking in a breath of courage to turn around and squint up at him through the afternoon sun with a shrug. "But that trash you're listening too was too loud for you guys to hear me."

Jungkook's eyes widen as he fumbles around beneath the windowsill and pops up again holding up a shiny vinyl record sleeve. You recognise it instantly; it's from his favourite film — Submarine. He hardly ever shuts up about it.

"This is not trash. This is, like, the best movie soundtrack ever made!" He shakes his head as he takes the needle off of Taehyung's vintage record player, music ceasing with a scratch, and slips it into the sleeve with a grin. "Good thing I have it downloaded so we can listen to it on the way to work, hm?"

You roll your eyes and tap your foot impatiently, and at that, Taehyung appears behind him.

"You're leaving already?" He frowns, words directed at Jungkook even as he glances through narrowed eyes at you stood awkwardly on the front lawn.

"Yup. My shift starts in twenty." Jungkook shrugs, disappearing into the room for a second before he emerges again with a backpack slung over his shoulder. "Sorry dude. I can come back afterwards though, if you want?"

Taehyung purses his lips. Even from here you can see the stress lines embedded in his forehead that make him look older than his humble age of nineteen, somehow weak unlike how you always saw him as a kid. Big and strong; untouchable; your brother.

His blunt eyes never quite meet Jungkook's as he shakes his head softly. "'S good. I was gonna try and sleep, anyway, before the sun goes down. Didn't get much shut eye last night. Not with the..."

Nightmares. Taehyung trails off, but you know that's what he's alluding to. The nightmares that turn your big strong brother into a sniffling mess in the dead of night, kicking around mercilessly until you sneak into his bed and whisper to him until he slips into slumber again. Not that you ever acknowledge it in the morning over your bowls of cereal and vacant good morning's.

"Okay." Jungkook's face momentarily falls; a rare occurrence from the boy who seems to be perpetually cheerful. He pats Taehyung on the shoulder gently. "Take care of yourself, okay man?"

Taehyung just nods, letting out a yawn as he rolls into a stretch. "See ya tomorrow."

You're jolted from your thoughts when Jungkook throws his left leg out of the window, then the other, arms bulging in just the right way where they poke out of the sleeves of his plain white tee as he climbs down the drainpipe and lands with a thump on the soles of his high top sneakers.

"Hey kiddo." He grins as he wipes the palms of his hands on the thighs of his ripped jeans, before messing up your hair despite your groan of protest.

"Don't call me that. You're only a year older than me."

You're startled when you meet the pair of warm eyes that glint golden brown in the summer evening light, chest contracting as you look away and break into a fast walk towards the street.

"And you know you can just use the front door right?"

You hear him snort behind you, neglecting to use the front gate and instead launching over the fence so he lands directly in front of you on the sidewalk.

"How am I supposed to impress my best friends little sister if I can't show off my guns?" He flexes his arm, but you just brush past him with a roll of your eyes.

"You're an idiot."

You hear the clunk of his bike chain unhooking from the gate, before a set of wheels pedal up on the sidewalk beside you. "Hey! Where are you going?"

"Uh, to work?" You offer bluntly, squinting at him through the sun. "You should be too, we start in fifteen minutes."

"I mean why are you walking? What happened to your bike?"

You roll your eyes. "Some tourist kids slashed the wheels at the beach."

"Shit. Really?" Jungkook tuts, but you don't miss the glint in his eye as he nods towards the pegs on the back of his bike that were made for carrying a passenger."Then I guess it's my lucky day. Hop on, we can ride together."

You come to a standstill, arms crossed tightly. "I'd rather walk."

"Oh come on!" He wiggles his eyebrows. "It'll take double the time if we go on foot, and I recall it being you who got a final late warning last week."

"If we go on foot?" You laugh breathily, determined to stand your ground. "Just go on ahead, I'm good here."

"Well, I'm not exactly going to leave you here alone on the side of the road now am I? So I'll be forced to walk with you. And I'm older than you remember? Look, I'm already out of breath! My legs aren't what they used to be, y'know."

"Fine!" With a pout you take the helmet resting in his front basket and hook it underneath your chin, biting your lip to stop a smile from gracing your lips at the excitement that lights up Jungkook's features. "But only because I want you to shut up."

"Your wish is my command." He says with a pat to your head. "Hold on tight, okay?"

And as you wrap your arms around his waist, you're sure his ears heat up a deep shade of red, even it could just be the evening light playing tricks on you.

The theatre at the Crestmont feels eerily quiet when its empty.

You know that because even though your shift was supposed to end at 5, you offered to stick around to help clean up after today's performance. Phantom of the Opera.

"Jesus," You groan as you pick up another sticky soda cup that someone had kindly spilled all over the ground for you to clean up, dropping the offender into a black trash bag. "Doesn't anyone around here know how to use a trash can?"

You fall into one of the theatre seats with a sigh and run your fingers over the scarlet velvet, worn yet plush, the texture soothing you instantly. You tilt your head back and let the silence engulf you. No orchestra, no musical numbers, no stage crew shouting directions. No whirring cotton candy machine. Just you and the stage.

From here you can see every detail on the high ceiling littered with renaissance-style paintings of mermaids and babies armed with heart shaped bow and arrows. Your mom was an actress. When you were a kid you used to spent hours staring at them while she rehearsed. You were convinced they came alive once the theatre closed up for the night, their cheeky smiles evidence of a secret only you knew.

A trail of rainbows is cast by the grand chandelier hung in the center, and it draws your attention all the way down the aisles and up to the stage.

The Crestmont is only small, fitting perhaps 200 people at most. It's hardly Broadway. But the fire in your chest ignites as you glance side to side before sidling up the creaking wooden steps that wind up to the Crestmont's center stage. Your favourite part of the whole theatre.

It's not the first time you've done this. You often like to come up here after everyone has gone home, even though you technically aren't supposed to. There's a certain magic about being alone up here as you collect the lone roses that were thrown on stage by tonight's audience. Breathing in the musty smell of butter popcorn that lingers on the velvet curtains, feel the warmth of the bright stage lights glazing your skin. Something about it feels like home.

The first time you ever saw the Crestmont stage was on tv, watching a grainy camera shakily capture your mom in the very same spot you find yourself right now.

Your mom used to have a cardboard box filled with her old audition tapes. Everything from Hamlet to A Streetcar Named Desire, she'd starred in it, and you spent hours together in front of the television set trying to memorise the way she spoke your favourite lines and listening to her lilting voice recite backstage anecdotes about her rendezvous with foreign directors who dined on her in Paris or underground parties with celebrities you had never even heard of as she stroked your hair.

It wasn't until you got a little older that you realised that, just like you, your mom was a dreamer. Sure, she'd visited a couple different states and starred in some makeup commercials once, and that was enough to make her a celebrity in a town as small as this.

But really? She was just a small town actress with dreams larger than herself and way larger than the Crestmont where she made her name. And suddenly the gaps in time where she would disappear for weeks — sometimes months — on end no longer made sense to you. If she wasn't drinking cocktails with the prince of Monaco or clubbing in London, then where was she?

"Down town with those no good roadies," Taehyung told you once. "They made all these empty promises. Told her she'd make it big if she just did what they said. But look how that turned out."

That was the day you realised your mom was a better actress than you ever knew.

She always thought that her dreams would come true. She believed it so hard that you believed it too, naively. But who knows? Maybe they would have if she didn't get into an accident on her way to New York for her big break.

It's easy to imagine how your mom felt up here. She always looked so alive and free in those VHS tapes as she danced effortlessly across the stage with an ethereal weightlessness, the theatre silent except for the melodic sweetness of her monologues that drew tears to the eyes of those who listened eagerly.

If you close your eyes you can hear the roar of the crowd, hands clapping furiously. The orchestra tuning their brass in the pit, bows melodic against strings. Flowers landing at your feet. The deep breath of satisfaction as you take your final bow and the curtain closes.

Just like that you're moving across the stage, reciting the lines you know so well...

"You're gonna be a star like me some day," A voice whispers against your ear, soft and gentle. A memory. Your mom. "Just like me."

And just like that, she's there. In the audience, clapping. For you. And you feel invincible.

The sound of applause breaks you out of your trance. Real applause. You find yourself stood center stage, broom in hand, staring out at row after row of empty seats that gape with the same emptiness that was here when you arrived.

Except one of the velvet lined seats is filled now. Right at the front.

"Encore!" Jungkook whistles, the harsh thwacks of his palms clapping together clanging inside your ears. "Do it again! That was amazing!"

Your chest seizes painfully, a sudden bout of panic turning your blood cold. You feel the colour leave your face. How long has he been here? How long has he been watching?

Jungkook is watching you attentively, eyes soft at the edges with wonder. It makes bile rise in your throat. You can't be up here. Not when there's a pair of eyes looking at you, judging.

"I..." You begin, but the words get caught in your throat.

"I can't do this."

The way Jungkook's eyes widen and he lurches forward to catch you is the last thing you see before your vision goes black.

The boardwalk is strangely quiet for a summer evening. It's happy hour so you suppose most vacationers are already in the bars in their I LOVE OCEAN CITY T-shirts drinking cocktails or whatever. Not that you're complaining.

The smell of hotdogs and vinegar from the vans that line the strip still fill the air, snatches of conversations from children begging their parents to let them go on the waltzer one last time barely audible above the tinkling bells of the carousel. The ride operators drink soda's as they fan themselves with rolled up newspapers, grateful for the gentle hubbub on such a sticky evening, and then there's you, caught up in the middle of it all.

The wooden boards of the pier are warm against he backs of your thighs. You're sat with your legs dangling through the peeling guard rail that lines the strip. It was painted pastel blue at some point but years of sea spray and grubby hands made it fade to a sickly green tinge that matches the ocean.

Speaking of, the ocean would usually be directly below your feet, murky and wild, but today the tide has receded right back to reveal a large strip of sand. The stands suspending the pier rest on top of it so that you could walk right under and around them if you wanted to. You and Taehyung used to do that all the time when you were kids. Searching for barnacles. Exploring the dark places.

"Here. Eat up. You totally passed out on me back there. You could probably do with some sugar."

The soft voice beside you is the only thing loud enough to permeate your daydreams. You don't have look up to know who it belongs to. Jungkook.

He peers down at you, sun beating down against his back. He's holding two vanilla ice cream cones, double scooped, and he thrusts one into your hands before mirroring your position at the edge of the boardwalk.

The walk down here from the Crestmont was more or less silent, and your stomach twists now you realise Jungkook wants to talk.

"What are you thinking about?"

"Nothing." You lie. The ice cream is cold and sweet and covers the bitterness. "I just think it's funny."

Jungkook's tongue sneaks out to lick up the melted cream dribbling down his cone. "What is?"

"How this place stays the same but I feel so different." You were born here, raised here. This place was your whole life once, with it's salty air and bustling casino's. But since the accident, something's been bubbling inside you, swelling and crashing like the ocean below that taunts you and you've never felt farther from home in your life as you do now, looking out over the town that just won't budge, just like the funny ache in your chest. "Forget I said it. I don't know why I'm even telling you this."

Jungkook fidgets beside you and runs a hand through his hair with a sigh."It's okay, y'know. To miss her."

Your mom. You know that's who he means. Just the mention of her stings.

"Mhm." You snort. "Tell that to my family. If we all carried on missing mom then we'd be in pretty hot shit by now."

"If it's Taehyung you're worried about, then don't be. He's stronger than he looks."

"Until he's not anymore. And we lose him again just like—" You pause. You hate how you can hear the pain in your voice so you smooth it out. "Just like before. And I can't let that happen. I won't."

Jungkook shifts. As Taehyung's oldest friend he was there for everything in the aftermath of the accident. He was there when you put on a brave face for the sake of your family. He was there when Taehyung couldn't be any more.

"That doesn't mean you have to be strong all the time. Think about it this way. The ocean isn't always this calm right?" He gazes wistfully out over the ocean that swells and crashes against the shore, fingers twirling the gold chain around his neck. "Last winter when we had that huge storm, the waves were so big they smashed right through the pier support beams."

You furrow your brows. "What about it?"

"The ocean was just too much for the pier to bare and it would've come crashing down forever if half the neighborhood didn't come down to the beach in the dead of night, despite the rain, and hold it together until the storm calmed and the emergency repair boats could get to shore."

It's true. You remember how unforgiving the rain was as it pelted down against your back and froze you through to the bone that night as each and every familiar face from your neighborhood came down to the seafront to lend a hand, your family included.

Jungkook was there too. He was the one who knocked on your door in the early hours to spread the word. He got given free churros for life by one of the pier stall owners as a reward.

"What I'm trying to say Y/N, is that Taehyung has you to lean on, right? So who do you have?" Jungkook says, staring at you head on now. His sincerity almost makes you blush.

You bite your lip. Deep down you know that your beams are just as broken as Taehyung's and it's only a matter of time before they come crashing down into the water, and this time there'll be nobody to hold the pieces together.

"I don't need anyone. I'm just fine on my own. I can handle my ocean."

Jungkook brushes your hand. You flinch, so he pulls it back into his lap. "Well if you ever need a life boat, then you know where I am okay?"

You don't believe him, but he's staring at you so expectantly that you just tell him what he wants to hear. You're good at that.

"Okay." You whisper. "Okay."

Children's laughter bubbles up from the beach. You watch their distant silhouettes dancing among the waves. It's Jungkook who breaks the silence before it settles between you and becomes uncomfortable.

"Anyway, what were you doing up there on the stage today?" He smiles, like he's trying to lighten the mood. "You looked like you were having the time of your life before—"

You feel your cheeks start to burn. How long had Jungkook been watching you at the Crestmont? Had he seen the whole thing?

"It was nothing. I was just being dumb."

"Nothing?" Jungkook cocks his head to the side and punches you playfully. "It didn't seem like nothing."

"It just...it makes me feel close to my mom when I'm on the stage." You admit. "I loved watching her when I was a kid. She was always larger than life in my eyes. She had this way of making you really believe she was someone else. It was like she wasn't just acting -- she was becoming. Sometimes...sometimes I think I liked her better when she was in character."

You shake your head with a small smile. "I like me better when I'm in character. I used to dream about going to New York one day and becoming an actress just like she wanted to. Small town girl making it big in the city and all that." You scoff. "But I'm nothing like her. It's just fun to pretend sometimes."

"You're good. At performing. Like, really good." Jungkook's eyes are wide. When he places a hand on your forearm you don't shake it off this time. "You take after her. Everyone says it."

It's true. There's one photo of your mom in the house. It's in Taehyung's room. When you were younger you thought it was your face staring back at you from behind the glass. Sometimes you'll be walking down the boardwalk or serving soda's at work and you'll hear the whispers. See their heads turn. Is it her?

"Pfft. Looks mean nothing." You scoff. "She was fearless. I can't even speak in front of one person without passing out, let alone a crowd."

Realisation crosses Jungkook's face. "Oh. So that's what happened back there? Stage fright?"

"Uh huh." You roll your eyes. "So don't give me the follow your dreams spiel or whatever."

"Hmm." Jungkook uses his arms as a makeshift pillow so he can lay back against the ground. You mirror him, peering through your fingers to watch how the golden rays of the sun swallow his frame. "Remember that play they made us do in middle school?"

"The Nativity?" You raise your eyebrow. It was the first theatre production you were in, before the accident and way before you had stage fright.

"Yeah." He grins. "I was the sheep. Taehyung made fun of me for months afterwards because of that stupid costume my grandma made."

"Yeah." You snort. "You did look sorta dumb."

Jungkook bumps your arm with a playful pout that makes you giggle. "And do you remember how I forgot my lines on stage and nearly pissed myself with stage fright? God, I still remember how mad my dad looked in the front row. We'd practiced that part for weeks. I don't know why it happened. I just froze—" A small smile forms on his lips. "But you didn't. Next thing I know there's a kid in a gold star of Bethlehem costume running on stage to recite my lines for me. You stole the show, remember that? Everyone loved you."

"That was then." You murmur, but you can't suppress the smile tugging at the corners or your mouth. "I'm not the same person."

"You were a year younger than the rest of my class but you auditioned anyway, because you knew that you were the only person who could play the star. Because you were a star."

Jungkook turns so that his head rests on his elbow and you're suddenly so close you can feel his breath ghost across your cheek. Your heart pumps in your ears as you gaze dips down to his rosy lips and back up to his sparkling eyes which bore into yours.

"You still are a star."

The words echo in your ears, soft and sincere. His tongue snakes out to wet his lips. You lose your breath. And then you jump away, placing a safe distance between your bodies before you can do something you regret.

"And what about you. Are you still a sheep?" You tease, turning your face so he can't see how it burns rosy red.

"Nah. Figured out pretty quickly after that that I was better off behind the camera." He chuckles.

"Oh right. You still have that thing?" You nod to the camera in his lap. It's one of those old ones that looks like the type that needs a film reel and a projector, but it's been modified so there's a little viewfinder at the side to check the footage instead. "Can I see?"

"What?" Jungkook blinks.

"Some of the stuff you've filmed?"

"Oh! Right!" It's his turn to flush now, scratching the back of his neck as he anxiously thrusts the camera into your hands and pays close attention to the hangnail at the edge of his thumb as you watch the footage.

Your eyes widen when a familiar scene rolls out on the tiny screen. You, on stage at the Crestmont. Jungkook filmed you.

"This is..."

"You." He rushes."Yeah, I know. Sorry if this is awkward—"

"No. Not at all. I just—" You watch in awe as the you inside the camera moves across the stage with an effortless grace. How the lights make your eyes shine and your skin brighter than you remember it being in the mirror this morning. "How did you do that?"

Jungkook's forehead creases. "Do what?"

"Make me look like...that."

"I didn't do anything." Jungkook shrugs. "That's just how I see you."

You could listen to him say that all day, but you stop yourself mid swoon.

"Don't say things you don't mean."

"I do mean it. And I'll show you." He wiggles his eyebrows.

"How?"

He grabs your hand and squeezes it. Tight. "I don't know how yet but I will."

You roll your eyes. "Good luck, Jeon."

"You know I like a challenge." Jungkook laughs, and the melodic sound goes right to your chest. "I'll make you see yourself how I see you. Just wait."

"Since when did you have four wheels?" You call to Jungkook with a quirk of your brow, resting your elbows on the window ledge of the beat up truck he pulls up in outside the Crestmont.

It's a sticky August afternoon and the rusty red vehicle purrs— or more like splutters — in the parking lot as Jungkook untangles your bike from the rack and lifts it into the cargo bed like it's weightless. Just yesterday he came by with his pump and a patch to fix that goddamn slashed tyre, and now he's stealing it?

"Hey! What are you doing with my bike?"

He is clad in nothing but a white vest and board shorts, and you can see perspiration glimmering at his temples as the salty breeze blowing from the beach ruffles the dark curls that flop over his forehead.

"This is my dad's truck," His eyes flash with pride as he hops into the open drivers side door and makes the engine growl. He nods to the empty seat beside him and pushes his dark round sunglasses down the bridge of his nose, fanning his face with his hands. "And you won't be needing your bike today. Now hurry up and get in, loser. I've been waiting ages for your shift to finish and the AC is broken."

You raise a brow. "We're going somewhere?"

"Yeah. Why else would I be waiting for you to get in my truck?"

"I mean, we're going somewhere in this?" You nod towards the truck's worn tires, the fumes that wisp from the exhaust pipe like a lit cigar. "Are you sure it's safe?"

Jungkook notices the way you bite your lip. You don't even have to tell him the worries that are running through your mind. It's as if he can read them like an open book.

"Are you still scared of riding in cars?" He questions, softly.

You nod. That's what an accident does to someone. Makes them scared of something they ordinarily wouldn't even question.

"A little." The breeze ruffles your hair and you hide behind it. "I'm getting better." You add, so he doesn't feel bad because you know he does. His face tells you as much.

"It's a short drive, if that helps." He rushes. "And I asked Taehyung and he said you'd be okay, but if you aren't then I can just walk you home—"

"No." You shake your head firmly. There's a funny fizzing in your stomach that's been there ever since that day on the boardwalk, and it's only growing stronger and stronger now you're inches away from Jungkook and his warm eyes and gentle smile. You don't want it to end just yet. It's enough to outweigh the wriggling fear that's always inside you just a little. "Where are we going?"

Jungkook's face lights up and your heart flips when you realise it's because of you.

"I told you I was gonna make you see what I see, didn't I?"

"Oh that was today?" You tease. "Must have missed it it in the calendar."

"Stop asking questions! Just get in. Please?"

"Fine." You walk around to the passenger door, sliding in beside him and throwing your bag into the back seat. "But I need to be home by midnight or Taehyung will worry."

"No problemo." Jungkook salutes as he switches on the engine and the truck roars to life. You clasp your hands tightly in your lap and breathe through your nose. You're okay. You're safe."Home by midnight. It's a promise."

You gaze out of the window to stop your thoughts from running wild. Jungkook turns left, away from town and the beach and everything familiar. You watch it get smaller and smaller in the mirrors, strangely relieved. Strangely excited.

"Now will you tell me where we're going?" You ask.

"Nope." Jungkook chuckles when you pout. "Just sit back. Relax. Take in the view. Listen to the music."

He leans across the dash, making a point to keep his eyes on the road as he fiddles with the stereo. A familiar string of guitar chords fill the truck. You recognise them, even if vaguely. Probably from Taehyung's vast collection of records.

"The Beatles right?" You ask, resting your chin on your knee as you dare to take a peek at him, blushing when you find him already staring at you.

"Pfft, yeah. Of course it's The Beatles! Only their greatest soundtrack, like, ever."

You shrug. "I've never listened to them before, so I wouldn't know."

"Oh come on? You haven't seen A Hard Day's Night?" His eyes widen when you shake your head. "Super Fly? Pulp Fiction? Purple Rain?"

You stifle a giggle at the look of pure shock he's sending you. "Nope. Should I have?"

"Absolutely!" He splutters. Passion shines in his eyes. "You're missing out on some of the greatest cinematography known to man!"

"I guess you have a lot to fill me in on, then."

"I sure do." His eyes soften. "Open the glove box."

You open it. Inside you find an assortment of cassette tapes, old and new. You send him a curious look.

"Close your eyes and choose one." He nods. "Go on."

You do as he says and shut your lids tightly, feeling around until your fingers curl around a tape you're strangely drawn to. When you open your eyes you find a worn box in your palm, yellow at the edges, and you're momentarily disappointed until Jungkook hums in approval beside you.

"Good choice! Dirty Dancing. A classic." He takes it from you and slides the tape into the stereo. It crackles a little before the music starts. "Trust me, you'll love it."

The stereo tracklist flashes amber. 01: Do You Love Me?

"You broke my heart 'cause I couldn't dance," Jungkook sings along in a deep voice, eyebrows bouncing as you loll your head to the side to send him an eye roll. "And now I'm back to let you know I can really shake 'em down!"

The song starts, all vibrant guitar and drums. It has a funky 60's groove, like it belongs in a swing dancing club instead of on the highway at sunset. It's a happy song and you think it suits Jungkook just right.

Speaking of Jungkook, he starts to bob his head in time with the beat, fingertips tapping in rhythm against the steering wheel. He looks adorably dorky, losing himself to the song, like he's forgotten you're even sat beside him.

"You look like an idiot." You deadpan, though you can't cover the laugh that escapes you as he sings along louder.

"No, I look like I'm having fun!" Jungkook rolls down the window and turns up the music so loud he has to shout for you to hear him. "Don't you ever do this? Just give in to the music for a while? Let your body do what it wants?"

"Uh, no. I prefer to just listen." You shout back. "Besides, your body should be focused on driving this car right now--"

"Oh come on! Just try it."

"Try it?" You blink, stomach suddenly knotting."Like now? In front of you?"

"Well duh. Look. Copy me."

He starts to shake his shoulders from side to side, fingers clicking as he nods for you to do the same.

"I...okay." You start to copy, but you catch yourself in the rear view mirror and you just look stiff compared to how effortlessly Jungkook moves to the rhythm.

"See you're doing it!" Jungkook grins, throwing his head back. "Feels good huh?"

"Kinda..." You have to admit there is something liberating about just letting go. "Like this?"

Your knees volunteer themselves to the beat, and then your arms, and before you know it you've got your eyes closed, hair whipping around your face as you speed down the interstate

"That's it. Feel the music!"

Before you know it, the song ends and you realise all at once that you're laughing. Loud and free, enough to make your belly hurt. Jungkook is too, the sound better than any song you've ever heard, and neither of you can seem to stop.

"Oh my god." You pant, covering your face with your fingers, embarrassed. "Now we both look like idiots."

"Don't hide from me." Jungkook bites his lip. You're suddenly aware of how close he is. His arms grab your wrists, pulling them away from your face, but he doesn't drop the one closest to him. Instead he links your fingers and uses your shared grip to change the gear as he turns down a winding road.

"I'm shy." You say, and you can feel the heat in your cheeks.

"Why? You're beautiful." Jungkook puts the car into park. You realise all at once that you've been driving for ages and you didn't even panic once. "Besides, we've arrived. And you're not gonna wanna miss seeing this."

The destination Jungkook seems so excited about turns out to be a concrete parking lot.

"Where are we, Jungkook?" You ask, looking around but finding nothing but tyre tracks and dirt.

Jungkook has already hopped out of the drivers side, sliding over the hood of the car to tug open your door with a quirk of his brow.

He holds out his palm, upturned and calloused. "Do you trust me?"

You bite your lip, heart pounding. Do you trust him?

Your body speaks for you and you slide your hand into his. His thumb traces your knuckles reassuringly.

"Yes." You breathe. "I trust you."

"Good."

You yelp when an arm wraps around your waist and hoists you out of the car, tightly interlocked fingers blocking your vision like a makeshift blindfold. "Don't open your eyes until I tell you to."

"Okay." You giggle, feet stumbling as you try to find your balance with the help of a sturdy hand beneath your elbow.

Jungkook hums gently beneath his breath as he guides you up a path that turns from concrete to loose rock to dampened grass beneath the soles of your beat up sneakers. There's a voice in the back of your mind that tells you to be nervous; who knows where he could be taking you right now.

But as you breathe in the musty notes of his cologne and feel your heart flutter in your chest when he comes to a stop and rests his chin on your shoulder, just close enough to feel his laugh ghost across your neck, you don't care where in the world you are right now as long as it's beside him.

"Now, open."

The sun is startlingly bright when you open your eyes for the first time and see the vibrant meadow that stretches as far as you can see.

Wait — that's not the sun. It's sunflowers. Clusters of them, cheerfully waving with the breeze from where you stand on the path that continues for a few steps before it disappears among their stems.

The sunflowers are a burst of golden colour against the fading green of the meadow, and the horizon beyond that which boasts the silhouette of beach rock against the soft blue of the ocean at sunset. There's tracks here and there where the uncut grass is trampled, like some children had played hide and seek.

You reach out a hand and brush your fingertips over the velvety petals; breathe in the botanical scent of the fresh sunny blooms that dances through the meadow. It's breathtaking, you think. There's no coordination, just freedom choreographed by the wind as the tall stems sway back and forth in their gentle dance.

Before you know it you've taken off into a run, grinning with childlike glee when the tall grass tickles your nose and the sun whispers against your neck.

"Jungkook, this place is—"

"Beautiful right?" You nod breathlessly, blushing deeply when you come to a stop and find him staring right at you. He squeezes your hand and that's when you notice your fingers are still interlinked. "I come here a lot. When I need to think."

"How did you find this place?"

"Taehyung and I stumbled upon it a few summers ago by accident." He says. "Nobody knows about it. It's our secret."

"It's so beautiful." You whisper. "The whole world needs to see this."

Jungkook kicks at a stone with the toe of his boot. "I kinda like it being a secret. This place...is special to me."

"Then why...." The words get caught in your throat. You swallow and try again. "Why did you bring me here?"

"I wanted to show you the things I find most beautiful. Remember?"

"The sunflowers?"

"Well yeah..." He scratches the back of his neck. Swallows thickly, like he's preparing himself. "But I was thinking of something a little different..."

You close your eyes, a smile appearing on your lips as you let the crisp breeze caress your face. "Then what?"

There's a sharp click of a shutter, and when your lashes flutter open in surprise, Jungkook is shaking a Polaroid picture back and forth, his eyes glinting with something mischievous.

"Hey! Give me that—" You reach for the Polaroid, stomach churning with a sudden shyness that makes you hug your arms.

"Just — don't do that okay?" He holds it out of reach, pleading with his eyes. "Please."

"Do what?"

"Give up on what makes you happy just because you're scared." His palm cups your cheek. "You said it yourself. Being in front of the camera is where you belong. Don't you see that?"

"I'm not scared." You feel the heat rise in your cheeks when Jungkook sends you a knowing look. "Okay maybe I am scared. And so what if I am? You've already given me the face your fears spiel and I told you. I'm perfectly happy avoiding every camera known to man for the rest of my life if it means I never have to face them."

"But you've already faced one of your fears today. You got in my car, remember?" He raises an eyebrow, smug. "Well, two technically, 'cause you're here with me now and I know how nervous you used to get around me--"

"Did not!"

"Do too! Every time we talk outside of work you get all shy and--"

"Shut up."

"See! You're doing it right now!"

You don't know what compels you to do it. Maybe it's the heat rising in the apples of your cheeks or the way your heart quickens when Jungkook closes the gap between you, but before you can stop yourself you're reaching up and grasping his face with both hands.

"Oh just shut up and kiss me, doofus."

The smug smirk on Jungkook's face is replaced with wide eyed surprise, his lips falling still for a moment when yours crash against his. But then his steady hands find your waist and he supports you on your tip toes so he can pull you ever closer, melting into the plush press of your lips.

When you pull back, you're smiling. You can't help it. You've been dreaming of this moment since, like, middle school. And goddamn, he even tastes how you imagined. Like black coffee and toothpaste.

"See." He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. "Happiness suits you."

"Whatever, Jeon." You smirk. "Don't let it go to your head, but it's thanks to you."

Jungkook flashes you the biggest bunny grin you've ever seen, eyes sparkling at your words.

"Wait...stay like that." He reaches for his camcorder in his backpack and points the lens at you. The smile falls from your lips. You place a hand on his arm, grip tighter than you intended.

"Jungkook stop."

"What's wrong? Just keep smiling like that, the shot was perfect—"

"I don't know what to do." You shrug, the lens boring into you like a judgy aunt at Thanksgiving dinner. "The camera makes me nervous."

"Just pretend I'm not here."

You sniff. "I don't want you to not be here..."

"Listen," Jungkook cups your face, thumbs tracing your cheeks fondly. "The reason I brought you here? It's because this place reminds me of you. Beautiful."

"Jungkook--"

"Just like you said, the world needs to see this place. Just like they need to see you."

"I..." Your heart is on the verge of exploding, you would swear it. "Okay." The word rolls off your tongue before you can stop it because somehow you trust him. And deep down, there's still that fizz of excitement mixing in with all the nervousness. The Jungkook Effect. You don't want to lose it to the darkness like everything else.

"I'll try. Just-- don't laugh at me okay?"

"You have my word, sarge." He salutes with a thoughtful grin. "Hold on a sec. I know exactly what you need to get you going."

Jungkook jumps to his feet and you watch with your chin tucked between your knees as he jogs down the rocky path and opens all four of the truck doors, even the trunk, before his head disappears into the vehicle and the same pumping bass from earlier starts blasting into the quiet serene of the sunflower field.

"There," He grins as he returns, out of breath, and sits back down beside you cross legged, holding his camcorder to his eye. "Now do what you were doing before again, but over there. Just pretend you're on stage at the Crestmont, okay?"

You feel the music wash over you and the urge to move hits you like a wave. Jungkook nods encouragingly and there's something in his eyes that flips a switch inside you. And for the first time in a long time, all the passion and spirit and feeling inside you fizzes up to the top and you can't contain it any longer.

"That's it!" Jungkook calls, shutter clicking uncontrollably. "I knew you could do it!"

An oak tree provides sun-flecked shade, a cool sanctuary from the sun that sets on the horizon and splashes the sky's canvas magenta.

Jungkook laid out a checkered blanket from the trunk of his truck which you both lay upon, shoulders pressed together as close as humanly possible, surrounded by your devoured picnic consisting of his mom's fruit punch and bags of snacks he took from the concession stand at the Crestmont when nobody was looking.

"Holy shit, Y/N." He says through a mouthful of popcorn, jabbing his finger at his favourite shot of you in front of the sunflowers. "This is what I've been saying! You're a natural in front of the camera."

"No, you're amazing, Jungkook." You feel for his hand. It's funny how natural it feels already when his pinky links with yours. "Behind the camera."

"You think?" He chews his lip, eyes searching yours for approval.

"I know. You should do something with these. People need to see them."

"I'm thinking of becoming a filmographer, actually"

"Like at the pier?" You think of the tacky photo booth that overlooks the sea in town, fit with all the silly cardboard cut outs that tourists come and take a photo with for a dollar.

"No, I mean a real filmographer." He shrugs, and you're sure there's a trace of a blush on his cheeks. "Y'know. Movies and stuff."

You nod. It makes sense for Jungkook to spend his life with a camera glued to his right hand. You can't imagine Jungkook anywhere else, and you have to ignore the sinking feeling that comes with the realisation that he would eventually leave Ocean City -- and you -- behind for the big screen.

"Well you bet your ass I'll be front row to watch each and every one, Jeon Jungkook."

"My lucky star." Jungkook smiles.

"Always."

He must see the sadness brimming inside you, his body shuffling closer so your knees brush. It's reassuring somewhat.

"Actually...there's something I should tell you."

He shifts under your gaze. The nerves rush back. "What is it?"

"I guess I finished writing my first screenplay..."

"That's like a movie script, right?" You ask eagerly, and he nods. "That's great, Kook!"

"Yeah, it's great it's just --" He pauses, and clutches your hand tighter like he's scared what he says next will make you let go forever. "It's about you."

You pale. "M-me?"

"I mean, it's about you and...and Taehyung! And your mom." Jungkook rushes. "I was inspired by your story at the boardwalk and it just happened! I'm sorry, I know you probably hate me now and think I'm crazy but--"

"Burn it." You deadpan.

Jungkook blinks. "W..what?"

"I said burn it." You pull his hand into your lap and he lets out a sigh of relief. "I don't hate you, Kook. I just think you were right earlier when you said I need to face my fears. And the only way I can do that is by forgetting my past. The last thing I need is a whole freaking movie about it."

He joins in with your strained chuckles. "Sure you aren't mad?"

"Not mad." You assure with a smile.

"Then I'll burn it."

You avoid his gaze shyly. "I'm kinda honoured you wrote about me, though." You admit.

"I guess...I guess I could call you my muse." Jungkook blurts hurriedly. His nose is a deep shade of pink and it makes you want to tease him forever.

"Yeah." You nod to yourself with a smile. "I like that. Your muse."

And then his lips are on yours again, like he can't quite help himself, and you start to forget where yours begin and his end.

This time it's not delicate and sweet. It's slow and languid, hot and heavy. The sunflowers break your fall, Jungkook's lips never leaving yours as he climbs on top of you, one hand tangled in your hair, the other planted beside your head so that his chest hovers above yours. You're almost certain he can feel how hard your heart is pounding in your chest, but you don't care, too lost in the bliss of finally feeling Jungkook's plush lips against your own.

"Come to New York with me." He says breathlessly between kisses, and your heart stops.

"What?" You can hardly drag your lips away from his but you have to be sure you heard him right. New York?

"I mean, in the future. I'm gonna go to New York. Get a job at a film production company or something, I don't know--" He tucks a piece of hair behind your ear. "Come with me."

"I...I can't."

"Why?" He frowns. "Is it me?"

"No! God no."

"Then why? You said it was your dream right?" You nod. "So what's stopping you?"

"I..I have to take care of Taehyung, and my job at the Crestmont and--"

"Okay. Lets pretend none of that exists. It's just you and me." His breath ghosts against your forehead. "Y/N, will you come to New York with me?"

"Yes." It comes out breathless, but you mean it. With every atom and nerve and fiber in your body. "Lets go to New York."

Where things change.

3 years later.

A postcard sits on the Welcome Home! Doormat you and Jungkook bought before you left for New York. You recognise the picture perfect image of Ocean City on the front, and Taehyung's messy scrawl on the back that tells you he's doing fine at his new management job at the Crestmont and he will be sending a housewarming gift imminently.

— Stay smiling, Y/N. Miss you already! Taehyung. :)

With a small smile you tack it onto the bare fridge. It brightens up the empty kitchen somewhat, a little piece of home and a reminder that you don't need to worry about leaving your brother behind to fend for himself so much any more. Since he pulled his life together and got a job at the theatre, it's like he came alive again. Found his purpose.

Speaking of purposes, you suppose that's how you found yourself here. In your very own apartment in a nice complex on the east side. The east side of New York City.

There's a pair of satin curtains hung over the balcony doors, probably left behind by the old tenant as it's the only form of furniture in the whole apartment. They rustle in the morning breeze and you tiptoe across the room barefoot to rip them open, letting your eyes flutter shut when the early morning sun filters through the glass and cascades over your face like a warm embrace.

You press a hand to the glass, studying your reflection; the messy lump of hair atop your head, the soft shadow of your lashes atop your cheeks. And beyond it, New York. Your new normal in all it's familiar glory from your dreams, yet still so deliciously foreign it makes your heart leap whenever a cab horn rings out in the distance or you breathe in the smell of fresh bagels from the shop down the street.

Home. You could finally call it that now. But New York is just a city and this apartment is just a house. The real reason you get to call this place home is because of who you came here with.

Jungkook.

You've been dating for two and a half years by now. He let you borrow one of his old much-too-big t-shirts to sleep in last night. There's a hole in the shoulder and the hem brushes your knees but it's warm and smells like his cologne and your heart expands when you close your eyes and remember this is just the beginning. You have so much to do, so many things to see here in New York. So many things to learn. And there's nobody you would want to explore life with more than Jungkook.

His camera equipment lays in a cardboard box by your feet, and something compels you to take out the old-school camcorder he loves. The leather strap tightens perfectly around your hand and the red RECORD button flashes as you open the doors wide and lift the lens to take in the view. Something tells you you're gonna want to remember this moment forever.

It's not long before a pair of arms wrap around your waist, chin tucked cheekily into your shoulder. "There you are." Jungkook husks, stilly groggy with sleep as his lips ghost across your cheek.

Turning around in his grasp, you find him still shirtless, sweatpants slung low around his hips. He's been working out recently, and you can't deny you don't love how firm his shoulders feel when you brace yourself on them to stand on your tip toes and leave a peck to his lips.

"Morning sleepyhead," you say, running your fingers through the strands of his silky bed hair. It's longer these days, whispering across the nape of his neck and falling across his round eyes sweetly. They flutter closed when you massage his scalp just how he likes it. "I was wondering when you'd finally get out of bed."

"Missed you." His lips turn up when he sees the camera pointed at his face. "Whaddya doing with that?"

"Making memories." You say simply, zooming in on him as he rubs his sleepy eyes. "So we never forget this."

A cheeky smirk appears on his lips as he wraps you in his arms, a surprised giggle leaving you when he spins you around and grabs the camera so he can point it at the both of you, his chin resting on your shoulder now as his bare arm snugly wraps around your waist.

"Hey stop! I just woke up, I look bad!"

"Hello us of the future," Jungkook chuckles, pulling your fingers away from your face when you bury your face in his chest to hide from the lens. "It's our first day in New York and Y/N is being all camera shy--okay, okay fine, lets show them the view instead!"

Jungkook finally flips the lens around so it focuses on the distant silhouettes of tall skyscrapers skimming the blue skyline, before he turns it back onto you guys once more with a mischievous look this time.

"But we have to go now because we have far more interesting business to attend to..." He lowers the camera as his lips start to trail up your collar bone and he smiles when your eyes flutter shut and you gasp at the feeling, but it's quickly replaced by a pout when you wriggle out of his embrace with a stern look.

"Not now. Later."

"Mmf? Why?" He whines, making grabby hands towards you. "You're so warm, jus' wanna cuddle for a bit."

"No time!" You call over your shoulder as you grab him by the hand and drag his heavy feet behind you. "We've got an apartment to decorate."

Before you know it you've enlisted Jungkook's help in laying tarps across the living room floor, two pots of bright white paint plonked in the center. It's not like you could afford a decorator after all. You are two broke twenty-something's trying to make it big in New York, and all that cliche stuff. So you would just have to do it yourselves.

Jungkook's over in the corner, miming along to the guitar solo from some rock song playing from the radio balanced on the windowsill, the paint roller his instrument as he dances around the room with giddy impulse. There's paint all over his butt where he accidentally leaned against one of the wet walls and he's got his hair tied back into a bun at the crown of his head and you watch him out of the corner of your eye while an affectionate smile creeps onto your face no matter how hard you try to curb it.

That's when you notice the camera in his other hand. He zooms in on the stepladder in the corner, the paint spillage in the hall, the heart with Y/N + JUNGKOOK FOREVER written inside it on the back wall. Documenting everything as usual.

He was always filming you, too. Whether you were making coffee in the morning or drying your hair. He'd even slow down beside you on the sidewalk to get the perfect shot.

You find it cute, even though you pretend to hate it. It makes your heart flutter every time you catch him rewinding the footage with a contented smile on his face, like he just captured the whole world with his lens.

It's no surprise when you finish putting the final coat on the wall and step back to admire your handy work that you find him wandering around the apartment with his hand curved around the lens of one of his bigger cameras like it's natural to him. You always joke that thing is like an extra limb, but he looks so calm as he looks through his lens at the room that is now drunk on the afternoon sun pouring through the window, the golden rays like honey on his skin, that it's easy to see that the camera really is a part of him. Passion lies in the soft lines of concentration on his face, in the plump lip tugged between teeth as he fiddles with the settings.

Jungkook sees beauty where others don't, where others can't. It might as well pump through his veins. And it's one of the reasons you love him so much.

You shake your head when you see how a small smile finds his lips when he leans a shoulder against the door frame and lets the camera land on the thing he swears is most beautiful.

"Hey." You warn, shooting a side wards glare at the camera lens you spot Jungkook not so discreetly pointing in your direction. "Stop it."

"Stop what?" He runs a hand through his hair, lips pulling back into a sly bunny smile when you bend down to reach a spot you missed at the bottom of the wall. "I'm not doing anything."

Your upper lip twitches. "Are you zooming in on my ass?"

"What? No!" Jungkook scrunches his nose with wide eyes, a habit you knew meant he was guilty, a pout forming on your lips as he snaps the viewfinder closed and shoves the offending piece of his equipment behind his back.

You narrow your eyes affectionately. "Perv."

"I don't know what you're talking about." He blows a strand of hair out of his face innocently but there's a playful glint in his eyes and you can hardly keep a serious face as you plant your hands on your hips in what you hope is a menacing manner.

"Then lemme see it." You challenge with a nod to the camera behind him.

He feigns indifference, cocking his head to the side like an overgrown puppy. "See what?"

"That's it!" You shake your head, charging towards and him making grabby motions towards the camera. Jungkook looks down at you fondly as he holds it above your head, out of reach, and it only makes you you pout harder. "Hey! Give it!

"Never!" You jump pitifully, fingers grasping around nothing. A melodic chuckle spills from Jungkook's lips when you cross your arms over your chest in defeat and blink up at him crossly. "You have to say the magic word first."

You scoff at the teasing look on his face as he wiggles his eyebrows and waves the camera just above your head, before an idea strikes you and within seconds you're wielding a paintbrush, Jungkook's eyes widening when you point the paint coated bristles at his face.

"Give it up." You hold out your palm with a smug look. "Or the walls are not the only thing getting a fresh coat."

"You wouldn't." He smirks, despite being backed into a corner now.

"Oh yeah?" Without further ado you swipe the brush down the bridge of his nose, swallowing a giggle at the white smudge it leaves behind and his shocked expression beneath it. "You underestimate me, Jeon."

Jungkook pushes his tongue into his cheek, eyes dancing up and down your body before they lock with yours daringly. "You shouldn't have done that."

"Or what?" You taunt playfully, a laugh escaping you, but you quickly bite down on your lip when you see the glint in Jungkook's eyes as he submerges both his hands into the nearby bucket of paint.

You don't run when he steps closer. Instead your breathing quickens, heart doing a funny somersault when he brushes your hair to the side and clamps both of his wet hands on the sides of your jaw to bring your face up to his.

He tastes like coffee and desire when your lips crash together in a delicious tangle of teeth and tongue, all the thoughts racing through your mind dripping away like honey until all that's left is the thump of your heart against your chest and Jungkook's warmth as he backs you up against the wall.

When he pulls away he rubs his paint covered nose against yours, cocking his head and smiling sweetly when he leans back and admires his handy work.

"You have paint on your face." He looks down at his white hands innocently with a shrug. "Whoops?"

His hands trail down to your hips. You reach to your side and grab a fistful of paint, wiping it down the centre of his face and giggling when he groans and scrunches his eyes closed . "So do you."

"Okay, that's it. This means war!" Jungkook growls, strong arms wrapping around your waist, and before you know it you're stumbling over to the mattress in the corner, Jungkook's body hovering over yours.

"You wanna play dirty, huh?" Desire-filled eyes trace your face, travelling down the expanse of your neck before zeroing in on your collar bones. You gasp when Jungkook's lips attach themselves to the sensitive skin, every inch of you set alight when his burning fingers slide beneath the hem of your tshirt and find your thighs. "Always being such a bad girl, huh?"

"So? What're you gonna do about it? Punish me?" You say teasingly, and he stiffens, lips leaving a mark behind on your neck with a pop. Jungkook's narrowed eyes meet yours and you feel your heart speed up with anticipation.

His lips twitch, like they're dying to turn up. "Brat."

With that, you're being flipped over onto your knees with a yelp. Jungkook's hands work quickly and before you know it your tshirt is over your head and the sudden breeze from the open balcony doors against your hardened nipples makes you gasp.

"You love it." You laugh breathily.

"Too much," Jungkook confirms, before his large palm presses you down into the bed firmly between the shoulder blades so that your ass is thrust up in the air. You wiggle is teasingly, though the breath catches in your throat when the first spank lands on your bare skin. Then a second, the sound ringing out through the empty room like an echo and making a damp spot appear on your panties.

"Hey!" You chastise when you remember the paint on his hands that just left two glaring handprints right across your ass.

Jungkook just smirks. "What? Now everyone knows it's mine."

A third slap and you have to bite the blanket to stop from groaning, then a fourth, and a fifth and by then your eyes are watering but in the best way. Calloused hands smooth over the burning area, soothing it.

"Good girl," A raspy voice whispers next to your ear. "Such a good girl for me, taking your punishment. I think you deserve your reward now, hm?"

"Please." You moan as he reaches around to grasp your breast, tweaking your nipples in a way that has you writhing beneath him.

"Don't say I didn't warn you though," Jungkook chuckles as he rips your panties down your legs, gasping at the sight of your dripping slit like it's the first time. He runs a finger down your folds, biting back a groan when it makes your legs fall open a little further, desperate for his touch. "I'm not gonna go easy on you."

"Jungkook, what do you-- oh!." Before you can finish, Jungkook is pushing your face back into the comforter, spreading your cheeks with his palms and licking an agonizingly slow stripe up your throbbing core. His tongue finds your clit easily, toying it with the tip playfully until you're gasping for air.

"Mmf, tastes so good." He murmurs against your folds, the vibrations of his chuckle making you moan so hard your legs start to shake. His tongue finds your hole, swirling around teasingly before it slips inside and you can't handle it anymore.

"Jungkook!" You gasp, reaching behind to grab his hair. "I..I can't-"

"You can." He says, almost a command, mouth leaving your pussy only so he can slide over onto his back and pull you back down onto his face by the hips.

"Oh g-god!" Your hand reaches for the headboard, landing on the wall to steady yourself when you remember you still haven't bought a bed frame yet. Your legs are starting to ache from holding yourself up but you don't care, too lost in the feeling of Jungkook's tongue lapping at your swollen folds as you grind in lazy circles on his face.

"C-close, Kook." You manage to splutter, head thrown back with pleasure when he slides two of his fingers inside you and starts to pump in time with his tongue, the sensation of being filled enough to send you over the edge into a shuddering climax that is unlike anything you've felt before, the only thought on your mind the way your hole clenches around your boyfriend's fingers.

It takes a few moments for your legs to stop shaking, your hearing slowly coming back into focus as you hear both of your heavy breaths intermingled. You look between your legs to find Jungkook staring up at you with a grin, eyes filled with wonder. His chin gleams with your juices, the front of his t-shirt damp as you realise with a gasp what just happened.

"Did I--?"

"Yup."

"Holy fuck." You swing your leg over his shoulder so you're beside him, Jungkook sitting up to look at you, still mesmerised. "I...I'm sorry, that was--"

"The hottest thing you've ever done." Jungkook finishes, grinning at you like he just won the lottery.

You raise a brow, surprised. "Really?"

"Yeah. Can I fuck you now?"

You can't help but laugh at his eager puppy dog eyes, hands practically twitching at his sides to touch you. A quick glance at his crotch confirms the biggest tent in his pants you've ever seen, and you crook a finger towards him with a sultry smile and a nod.

"Let's see if you can make me do that again."

"O-Okay!" Jungkook pulls his shirt over his head eagerly, and then he's on top of you, burning skin meeting burning skin. Your palm runs down his chest, Jungkook's eyes falling shut when it reaches the hem of his sweatpants. You cant help but gasp when your fingers wrap around his length through his boxers, core already throbbing again to be filled. He shivers when your finger circles his tip, admiring the wet patch on his boxers.

"Eager?" You smirk.

"You squirted on my face, Y/N, of course I'm goddamn eager."

"Get these off then." You tug at his pants and he kicks them off without a second telling.

"Your wish is my command."

When he returns to hovering over you, both completely bare now, he pauses. His eyes meet yours, a gentle smile appearing on his lips as he tucks a stray piece of hair behind your ear and grips your jaw protectively.

"I love you, y'know."

You close the distance between you, pressing your lips against his but barely able to keep yourself from grinning with the elation swirling in your chest. "I love you too, doofus. Now hurry up or I'm gonna have to fuck myself."

"That sounds kinda awesome--"

"Kook!"

"Okay, okay, on it!"

Palms spread your legs, and you both gasp when Jungkook runs the blunt head of his leaking cock up and down your slit, coating himself in your juices before he lines it up with your entrance.

"Ready?" He checks, thumb tracing circles into your inner thigh.

"As I'll ever be."

And with that, he pushes inside, his head falling into the crook of your neck with a sigh of relief at finally feeling your walls clenching around his throbbing length. The stretch of his girth stings, but it makes you feel so deliciously full, so perfectly whole to be connected to Jungkook like this that all you can get out is another soft I love you that earns a blissful smile from your boyfriend as he starts to move.

Each stroke makes you lose your breath, the tip of his cock hitting your sweet spot just right. It's when Jungkook takes your nipple into his mouth that you feel a second orgasm start to build, one hand gripping the sheets as the other drags scratch marks down his muscular back in blissful agony.

It's not long before Jungkook spills inside you with a deep growl, your own high hitting you as you feel him coat your walls. He collapses onto your chest, breaths deep and exhausted, and wraps you in his arms before you can even catch your breath.

Jungkook pulls the sheets up over your shoulders and places a kiss to the top of your head. He's so warm you feel yourself start to drift off into a blissful sleep, the smile on your lips never faltering.

"I love you too." Is the last thing you hear him say before sleep takes you under, and you're safe wrapped up in each other's arms.

When you open your eyes, the room is warm with sunset's rose tinted blush, and Jungkook's body is no longer beside you. Rubbing your bleary eyes, you sit up on your elbow and find him on the ground in front of the freshly painted wall, intricate petals and stems flowing from the end of the paintbrush he delicately waves across the surface to paint the prettiest sunflower you've ever seen.

"I'm home!" You hear your boyfriend yell out as he shuffles into the apartment, quickly followed by a yelp. "Hey, Gureum, stop trying to lick my face!"

You can't stop the smile that spreads across your features when a ball of white fluff comes bounding into the living room, the puppy that excitedly jumps into your arms tracking a trail of muddy paw prints over the script in your hands.

"Hey Gureum," You coo, scratching him behind the ears where you know his sweet spot is. "You're such a good boy, huh?"

"Don't praise him! He totally ran away from me in Central Park and I had to chase him all the way home!" You can practically hear Jungkook's eye roll, shaking your head fondly at the mock annoyance in his voice. It was Jungkook who begged you to adopt a puppy for months in the first place, and they've been more or less inseparable ever since — the little guy hardly ever leaves his side. It's safe to say Jungkook is definitely Gureum's favourite.

The smell of coffee and fresh bagels wafts through the apartment, a warm sensation settling in your stomach as your boyfriend rounds the corner and waves a brown paper bag.

"Still got us enough coffee to stay up all night learning lines though." Jungkook grins, dumping the contents onto the coffee table and raising his eyebrows when your hands dart straight for the chocolate cookies. "Speaking of learning lines, how is it going, pretty?"

He nods towards the script in your hand. It's worn at the edges and ferociously dog eared from all the nights you have stayed up until sunrise reciting the words littered across the pages over and over, until it's like your lips are moving by muscle memory and the words are a part of you.

After what felt like hundreds of failed auditions, you had started to lose hope. With every letter that landed on the porch with another SORRY or MAYBE NEXT TIME, you felt all the confidence in the dream you worked so hard to uncover start to dwindle.

But Jungkook was always there, by your side no matter what. Encouraging you when you forgot your lines or holding you when you didn't get the callback. Reminding you to eat whenever you were too absorbed in your work to cook or cheering you on from the crowd at your weekly improv performances.

It was Jungkook who cried with you when the director of the small theatre downtown called and gave you the lead part in his upcoming stage production. Your big break. And you were determined to make sure everything ran smoothly at opening night tomorrow, which is how you find yourself snuggled up on the couch rewinding your VHS copy of Dirty Dancing over and over again until you have every word memorised by heart.

"Pretty good." You say as you pop a salted peanut into your mouth while Jungkook slips out of his tweed jacket. He's been trying to dress more New-York-ish these days, or so he says. More dress pants and less sweats. "Final rehearsals start at five."

"Aren't you nervous?" Jungkook squishes into the space beside you, Gureum cuddling up between your bodies.

Tomorrow night's show is sold out, along with every night after that for the next week. You heard there were going to be at least 700 people there each night.

"Terribly." You admit, stomach churning at the thought of 700 pairs of eyes staring right at you. You try to focus on the fizzing excitement that lingers there too, growing stronger and stronger. "But I think I'm more excited".

"I'm excited to see you up there doing what you love." Jungkook smiles, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. "My star."

"Well don't get too excited because I still keep messing up this one goddamn scene," You flip the script to a page covered in bright highlighter scribbles and run your fingers through your hair exasperatedly. "I'm totally gonna mess it up and then I'll never get another job and—"

"Shhh," Jungkook takes the script from your hands and runs his eyes over it quickly. "Don't talk like that. You're gonna be amazing — hold up..." He raises an eyebrow. "Is this...the kiss scene?"

You feel your cheeks redden, voice small. "Yes."

"Then you're in luck because who better to help you practice than the best kisser in all of New York?"

You snort. "Wow, I sure could use some of your expertise Good-Sir-Makes-Out-A-Lot."

"Then you're in the right place..." He runs his finger over the script, jabbing at one line in particular.

[Johnny and Baby kiss.]

"Let's start here, hm? For practice, obviously."

"For practice." Your eyes roll but your heart still beats a little faster as he closes the space between you, hand pressing into the wall so his sturdy body hovers over yours, hands instinctively pulling him closer by the collar.

"Come give me a kiss, m'lady..." Jungkook murmurs, but before he can tilt your chin up towards his lips there's a sudden series of frantic knocks at the front door.

"What the heck?"

You both jump out of your skin, Jungkook's eyes narrowing as he glances over his shoulder at the shadowy figure outside, fist pounding the glass fervently, like they're trying to break it down.

"Okay, damn, I'm coming!" He yells with a roll of his eyes. He wraps the blanket around your shoulders as he hops up from the couch with a sigh. "Probably just some dumb marketer again or something — dude, chill! I said I'm coming! — be right back."

The lock slides open and you hear Jungkook gasp. Your stomach drops. "Who is it?"

"Uh, Y/N..." You hear the door click shut and the sound of squeaky shoes shuffling inside. The anxiety in Jungkook's voice makes your heart skip. "You might wanna come see this."

"Huh?" Your legs feel shaky as you follow him out into the hall, chest seizing when you lay eyes on the dripping wet hair and chattering teeth of the shivering man stood before you, eyes dark and grave like they used to be.

"Taehyung?" You splutter, ripping the blanket from around your shoulders and swaddling him in it as quickly as you can, Jungkook already bounding into the other room to get dry clothes and towels after shooting you a terrified glance.

Taehyung grabs your shoulders and pulls you into a tight embrace. His cheeks are wet against your shoulder, but you can't tell if it's because he's been crying or because he's been out in the freezing cold rain — hold on, did he walk here?

"Y/N," He murmurs frantically, eyes darting back and forth but never quite focusing on anything. You knew this look. This is how he looked that day you found out about the accident. Murky, far far away. Devastatingly sad. Something wasn't right.

"What is it?" You ask, pulling him into the living room and sitting him on the couch before his shaking knees buckle beneath him. "What are you doing here, Tae?"

"It's...it's the Crestmont." He whispers.

"What about the Crestmont?" Jungkook appears behind Taehyung, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder, but it's like your brother doesn't even feel it.

"They're tearing it down." He mumbles. "They're tearing down the Crestmont. Forever."

"Okay, now let's start from the beginning."

Jungkook's calm voice lilts from beside Taehyung who, after a warm shower and two cups of cocoa, has stopped shivering and seems to be ready to talk.

A hand reaches across the coffee table to tug on your wrist mid-lift to your mouth, a reminder from Jungkook to stop biting your nails. An old nervous habit you thought you'd left behind in Ocean City but apparently more than just Taehyung showed up here unannounced tonight.

"I...I got a call this morning." Taehyung begins, pausing to take a sip from the mug he cradles in his lap. His hands are shaking so he places it on the coffee table for safe keeping, right beside your discarded script. "It was from a construction company."

"And?" You prod, somewhat impatiently, making Taehyung jump.

"And apparently the owner of the theatre is behind on rent and...and..." He swallows hard. "And they're buying the rights to tear it down and build an apartment complex in its place."

"What?" Both you and Jungkook exclaim at the same time.

Jungkook's fists clench. "I always knew that old man was shady."

Taehyung fumbles in the pocket of the coat he arrived with, retrieving a brochure which he thrusts towards you.

The image on the front is of a metal skyscraper, far too shiny and new to belong in a seaside town like Ocean City. Fusion Apartments — modern living.

Jungkook rakes a hand through his hair, eyes sorrowful as you pass it over to him. "This sucks. Big time." He murmurs. "The Crestmont is the heart of Ocean City. How can they just bulldoze it like it means nothing?"

"That's why..." Taehyung swallows. "That's why I came here. I thought maybe you guys could help me, and we could do something before they—"

"We?" You furrow your brows. "You want us to help stop them from tearing down the Crestmont?"

"I mean yeah, I guess? I figured you guys would understand how important it is—"

You bite your lip. Taehyung flinches when you place a hand on his knee. "Tae. It seems like they've already got it figured out I mean...what can we do about it? The Crestmont has had a long run and maybe it's time for something new in Ocean City..."

"Y/N?" Jungkook warns, but there's a betrayal in his voice. How could you say that? It pains you, but you continue anyway. "What are you saying?"

"I just...I think it's time to let the Crestmont go."

Taehyung stands up so abruptly his mug smashes onto the marble tile.

"How could you?" He roars, but his bottom lip trembles. "The Crestmont is mom's place! It's all we have left of her in that fucking town and you want to just let them burn it to the ground?"

You tut, kneeling to pick up the broken pieces of china with a sharp glance at your brother. "For goodness sake, Taehyung. Mom isn't there anymore. She never was. She was always running off with some roadies and leaving us behind because she thought she was something special."

Taehyung scoffs. "What? Just like you?" He grabs the cocoa sodden script, crumpling it up in his shaking fist. "You are exactly the same as her. Running off to New York and leaving me behind to get your big break."

Jungkook steps forward warily. "Taehyung, you don't mean that—"

"Yes I do! If Y/N had just gotten in the car that day she wouldn't have died. It was all her fault. And now she's just gonna let them take what we have left of her."

"What?" Jungkook blinks.

Your stomach sinks. Is that really what Taehyung thinks? You wouldn't blame him. Deep down, his words strike a nerve. Because you know they're true.

Taehyung's eyes are hazy, unfocused. You reach for him dizzily, but he backs away into the hall.

"I shouldn't have come here." Taehyung whispers. He looks between you and Jungkook one last time before he's grabbing his coat and running down the steps to the first floor.

"Taehyung, wait!" You hear Jungkook's footsteps follow him out into the stairwell, but you're trapped on the ground, heaving for air.

Your hands shake as you pull yourself up to the window pane and watch Taehyung disappear into the gloom of the city, the sorrowful raindrops that lash against the glass mirroring the ones on your cheeks.

YOU: Taehyung??? YOU: [CALL IGNORED] YOU: please Tae YOU: can we at least talk about this? YOU: we're worried about you

It's been nearly 12 hours since you watched Taehyung disappear among the hustle and bustle of New York from your apartment window.

You and Jungkook were out all night searching for him. By the time you gave up the sun was rising and the birds were chirping and Jungkook somehow convinced your shivering form to return home to rest with a Taehyung shaped hole in your heart.

"It'll be okay. He'll be okay. He always is."

A phone call to your dad revealed he hadn't returned home that night; so where did he go exactly?

The weight of that question sits heavy in your chest as you sit backstage at the theatre, staring into your own vacant eyes in the dressing room mirror.

It's opening night. The show is due to start in fifteen minutes. Your lips are painted a deep shade of red, hair backcombed to perfection by one of the makeup artists. Beneath the harsh lights of the exposed bulbs that line the mirror, you look almost unrecognisable.

Confident, strong, successful.

Anyone would say your dreams had come true, or something sappy to that effect. But even as you sit among the hustle and bustle of the costume team and breathe in the fragrance of perfume and powder blush, you couldn't feel further away from the New York version of yourself if you tried.

Staring back at you is a reflection of the shy, terrified girl from Ocean City you worked so hard to forget. Yet here she is, mind whirring with worries for her brother instead of the lines she should be rehearsing to death before curtain call.

This should be your big moment. One which you will remember forever. But all you want to do right now is hold Taehyung close like you used to and tell him you're sorry and that you won't leave him again.

"Y/N!" You're snapped out of your thoughts by a familiar hand on your shoulder. You cover it with your own, instantly eased somewhat when you glance up and lock eyes with Jungkook in the mirror.

"Y/N, I found him."

"What?!" You jump to your feet, chair scraping obscenely. It draws the eyes of the people around you who quickly register Jungkook's polite smile as their cue to shuffle out of the dressing room and leave you two to talk. "Where is he? I need to talk to him—"

"He's not coming."

"What?"

Jungkook sinks into the chair beside you, forehead creased. He runs a hand through his hair and momentarily you catch a glimpse of the old Jungkook. The Jungkook that always took care of his best friend Taehyung.

"I...I gave him a ticket for the show tonight and told him to come. To see how much this really means to you...but—"

Your finger nails press half moons into your palms. "But what, Kook?"

"He was already leaving for Ocean City."

A sob wracks your frame. "Do you think he hates me?"

Jungkook's arms engulf you before the first tear can roll down your cheek, his chin tucking perfectly into the cleft of your shoulder. "Of course not, he's just...he's hurting right now."

"I can't lose him — not like this, Kook..."

"Shh. It'll all be okay."

You jump back and start to pace. "But it's not okay! What he said last night is true!"

Jungkook sucks in a breath. "What?"

Your knees buckle and you crumple. You can hardly breathe, shame washing over you as you admit the truth for the first time.

"I caused the accident! I'm the reason my mom's...she's..."

Jungkook wraps his arm around your shoulder, voice soothing. "What are you talking about?"

"The night of the accident she got a call from some big buck director. She was cast in this huge movie. Her big break." You're speaking to fast, but Jungkook nods to tell you he's listening.

"So she told Taehyung and I we were leaving for New York that night. And we were packing our bags before my dad got home and...and I said I wasn't coming. I didn't wanna leave Ocean City behind."

"I kicked and cried and said I didn't want to go, so her and Taehyung took off by themselves and that's when they got into the crash. She was upset and going too fast. It was all because of me." You start to sob. You've never admitted this to anyone before. Not even yourself. It tears your heart in two to say it out loud. "I'm the reason Taehyung's broken."

"You can't think like that." Jungkook clasps your face in his hands, thumb wiping away a stray tear. He looks scared, but his voice stays calm and convincing. "What happened was an accident. You were a kid. None of this is your fault."

"That's why Taehyung must hate me so much." You choke. "I'm doing what mom always wanted to, but she never had the chance because of me."

"Y/N?" A crew member steps into the room awkwardly with a cough. "I'm sorry to interrupt but the show is about to start. The audience is getting restless."

"Go. I'll take care of Taehyung, okay?" Jungkook pulls you to your feet, engulfing you in a final hug before he pushes you towards the stage entrance at the small of your back. "You're needed out there. Show them what you're made of."

Your eyes widen. This can't be happening. Not now.

"I...I can't."

"You can." Jungkook grabs your face and captures your lips, hard. It tastes salty with tears. "You're my star remember?"

"I love you." You whisper when you pull back, fingers reaching for him weakly as a costume designer hurries you towards the door.

"I love you too." Jungkook calls. His smile is the last thing you see before the door slams shut and there's no going back. "Now go break a leg, pretty!"

Particles of dust float in and out of your vision beneath the blinding stage lights.

Everything feels different from side stage. Your heart races as you press your ear to the velvet curtain separating you from the world, listening to the hubbub of laughing children and chattering adults filtering into the theatre. You imagine them taking their seats, buying icecream from the vendors, alive with anticipation.

The lights dim. You hear the director behind you, shouting something about places please! but it's like you're underwater, limbs weighted as you move like a ghost to your position for the opening number.

Your palms are clammy and you wipe them on your dress.

Show starting in 5...

Your legs turn to jelly. You close your eyes and try to calm your racing thoughts.

4...

Taehyung. Is he okay? Why didn't he come tonight?

3...

Shit! What was your opening line again? Goddamnit, Y/N, think!

2...

Mom. Would she be proud?

1...

You open your eyes.

The curtain is gone, and a pair of hands pushes you out into the harsh white spotlight. You shield your eyes with your fingers, heart dropping when you look up and find hundreds of eyes staring. Staring right at you.

It's like you're on the edge of a cliff, about to dive into the cool water below. Or fall.

Everything starts to blur. You're a teenager again, stood on the stage at the Crestmont. Panic rises like bile in your throat, and you don't know whether to scream or to run.

Run. Run. Run.

Your mouth opens, then closes. There's an awkward cough from the audience. Words run your mind in circles, but none of them are right, and before they can reach your lips they evaporate on your tongue.

Your panicked eyes roam the sea of seats that zoom in and out of focus. Your knees buckle, and you're sure you are going to pass out right here in front of everyone, but then your eyes meet a familiar pair of brown ones that makes the room stop spinning for a moment.

Jungkook. He's smiling at you, fingers crossed in his lap. There's not a trace of nerves in his gaze as he nods for you to go ahead.

I believe in you.

Just then the door to the theatre flies open and every head in the audience turns towards the darkly clothed figure shuffling through the aisles, mumbling sorry's and excuse me's until he reaches the empty seat beside your boyfriend.

He lets down his hood, shakes free a head of blonde hair that's still damp from the rain. He's out of breath, like he ran here.

Taehyung.

Your brother looks up at you, frozen in place, and his eyes soften. He flashes you a thumbs up and his lips curl around the four words you needed to hear.

You can do this.

And just like that, the panic disappears. The words come flooding back, and your body flies into action, moving across the stage

You forget all about the fear, and the anxiety, and Taehyung and the Crestmont. For now it's just you and the stage, together in harmony.

And you've never felt more alive than when you take your final bow and the crowd roars to life, just like you always imagined it would.

Your jaw hurts from smiling, and before you know it you're crying. Because when you squint against the theatre lights, you see Taehyung and Jungkook in the front row, holding each other and shouting your name.

Y/N! Y/N! Y/N!

"Hey! Be careful!"

The bouquet of congratulatory geraniums cradled in your arms gets crushed between your body and your brother's. He practically tackled you as soon as you entered the dressing room, carried on the cheering shoulders of the other cast and crew members.

"Holy shit." Taehyung holds you at arms length. His eyes are ringed red around the edges. "You were amazing, Y/N."

"You really think so?" Tears start to well and you're so happy to see him that you throw your arms around his waist. "I'm so glad you came, Tae."

"Yeah. You were just like her." He smiles. "Just like mom."

You share a small, sad smile. You've heard those words all your life but it feels different when it comes from Taehyung.

Jungkook pops his head into the room. He catches your eye over Taehyung's shoulder, and flashes you a small smile when he sees you cradling him in your arms.

Talk to him. He mouths, and you're suddenly reminded of why Taehyung came here in the first place.

"Hey listen—"

"Taehyung—"

You both start to talk, bursting into easy laughter when the other stops, seemingly hit with the same idea at the same time.

"You go first." You smile, encouragingly.

"Okay." He pulls you over to the couch. "I'm just...I'm sorry for storming out last night. I shouldn't have come here and expected you to help me—"

"No, stop. I'm sorry." You place a hand over his. "I want to help." You hold an arm out to Jungkook, who crosses the room and slides his hand into yours. "We want to help. We want to save the Crestmont."

Taehyung's eyes bulge. His voice drops to a whisper. "Really?"

"You were right. The Crestmont was mom's place."

You think about how it felt to be out there on the stage, in front of a crowd cheering your name. The excitement, the exhilaration. Your first stage.

The Crestmont is your mom's first stage. It's where she felt those same emotions for the first time. You can't let it be demolished. Not for anything.

"She deserves a legacy. We can't let them tear it down. I don't know how yet, but we'll save it."

"Thank you." A tear streaks his cheek, and his arms pull you and Jungkook into a tight bear hug.

"Thank you. For showing me what really matters, Tae." You whisper. "Let's do this together, okay?"

"For mom."

Taehyung holds out his pinky finger, and you link yours with his.

"For mom."

Where things go wrong.

Six months later.

Every second that passes is marked by a deafening tick from the kitchen clock.

Jungkook was supposed to be home 10 minutes ago. You're sat alone at the dinner table, a carefully presented meal for two spread across your mom's old polka dot table cloth. You even lit candles.

With a sigh you drop your chin into your hand, absentmindedly pushing your spaghetti around the dish while your eyes remain trained to the front door that will open any moment.

To be honest, it's been months since you and Jungkook shared a meal together. He spends most of his nights in his office, hunched over his laptop staring at the blinking cursor on some script he'll never finish. And ever since Jungkook's big script got rejected and he fell into a slump of no work, he had to get a job at a local convenience store all day for some spare cash to get you through the month.

You know he hates it. He hates the rude customers and how he can never shower the smell of grease out of his hair.

You know the bickering that turned into arguing that turned into fighting was just a result of his restless aggravation at being shot down too many times. Of watching his dream slip right through his fingers.

But you haven't exactly been as understanding as you should have been. You're overworked too, with the play, and The Crestmont, and you hate how easy it was to accept sleeping apart and missing dinner dates.

So you texted him to tell him you were making dinner tonight. A cease fire of sorts, or maybe just a feeble attempt at glueing back together the cracks that have appeared between you recently with pasta sauce and meatballs.

But he's late. Again.

And it makes you wonder whether there was any point in trying.

"Y/N?"

A gravelly voice jolts you out of your thoughts. Keys jangle onto the counter, shoes are slipped from feet and thrown into the storage cupboard with the creaky door.

"I'm in here." Your voice sounds meek, but you straighten and muster up a smile. To show at least one of you is making an effort.

Jungkook appears in the doorway, clad in his ugly traffic cone orange uniform. His shoulders are slumped, bangs limply stuck to his forehead. He looks tired, exhausted.

"What's all this?" He nods disinterestedly towards your untouched homemade buffet before heading to the sink to fix himself a glass of water.

"Dinner." You cough. He stiffens. "Remember?"

"Oh." He scratches the back of his neck. His eyes flash with something close to guilt momentarily, but then he smoothes it out. "Yeah. Dinner."

"It's okay, you're not too late. We can just heat this up in the microwave—"

"I already ate, Y/N." The glass in his hand slams onto the counter a little too loudly. "At the store."

You can't hide the way your face drops.

"Please." You whisper. "For me?"

Jungkook stares at you for a few seconds, unblinking, before he exhales shakily and pulls out the seat opposite you.

"What's on the menu?" He asks, hands already grabbing for the bottle of red wine in the middle of the table without so much as a glance at the food you worked so hard to prepare.

"Pasta."

"Right."

An uncomfortable silence settles. Jungkook nibbles at a meatball, and you suddenly feel too sick to the stomach to keep anything down.

You jump when Jungkook's fork clatters to the table. He wipes pasta sauce from the corners of his mouth with a napkin and you're sure you can see a slight tremor in his grasp.

"There's something I need to tell you."

His words ring out into the deafening silence that shrouds the apartment. You train your eyes to the candle in the middle of the table that flickers back and forth and carefully place down your own cutlery.

"Should I be worried?"

"No...I mean, I don't know. Maybe." Jungkook waves his hands around and when his eyes meet yours they're distant. Like the table that separates you spans oceans. "Just promise not to freak out."

"I'm not promising anything. Why are you looking at me like that?"

He shifts and the cheap flat pack dining chairs you bought when you moved in creak like they always do. "I...I got a movie deal. They loved the script I told them I've been working on and they want me to direct it."

Your heart fills with something sweet; pride. Even despite your downs recently this is still incredible news. You knew your boyfriend should be ecstatic...so why is he staring intently at the table cloth like it killed his whole family? "That's awesome, Kook. So what's the problem?"

"I gave them a different script."

Something shifts in the air. You hold your breath.

"Huh?"

"The script. The one you told me to burn before we came to New York. The one about you...your life."

Your blood runs cold and it's like your frozen. Just searching through the never ending blackness behind Jungkook's eyes that fails to falter, no matter how hard you pinch your inner thigh and hope you're about to wake up from a bad dream.

"You wouldn't." Your voice sounds strained and Jungkook doesn't even flinch. "You...I don't believe you."

"I'm sorry." He runs an exasperated hand through his hair. "It's just that they hated the first one and I wanted this deal so bad. It's a once in a lifetime chance Y/N, don't you see?"

The boy staring back at you isn't the sweet and sensitive Jungkook from Ocean City or the strong and passionate man from New York. His words get all mixed up in your head as you repeat them over and over and it's as if you don't even know him at all. All you can feel now is betrayal. And just like that all the anger that has been building inside you for months explodes.

"So my life is just a fucking plot for one of your indie movies, Jungkook?"

"It's always your life isn't it? Never mine." He slams his hands on the table hard enough to make your insides shake. "Ever since we came to New York I've supported you, sat back and watched as you achieved all your dreams. And it hurts, Y/N. To come home from my dead end job, and write another goddamn script that nobody wants to even read."

"I came to New York because of you!" You don't even realise you're crying until you taste the hot salty tears that won't seem to stop. "I came here so you could make it big! You're the one who encouraged me to audition for the play in the first place!"

"God, are you really that naive? Don't you see? I came to New York because I saw how much it meant to you." Jungkook lowers his voice, and there's something in his words that makes your heart twist. Pain. His eyes look watery and you long to reach out for him. Like the skin on skin contact will somehow make all of this okay. "And not once have you ever considered how it might feel for me to sit back in your shadow."

"So that's what this is? Jealousy?" You shake your head and get up from the table and turn to leave, but Jungkook grasps your wrist.

"Why can't you be happy for me?"

"I am happy for you Jungkook. And I always will be." Your heart softens and you're reminded of the boyfriend you know. The boyfriend you love. You want to believe he's in there somewhere so you place your hand over his, and for a second he looks hopeful. "But this was never your story to tell. That's what hurts."

He drops your arm, gaze cold and distant. "Then I guess that's it then."

"What?"

The room starts to spin.

"If you can't accept my decision to go ahead with the project then I guess we can't do this anymore."

"This?" You whisper.

"Us."

"Jungkook...Are you saying we're over?"

He drops his head into his hands and lets out a sigh. "Maybe. I don't know."

"You don't know?" You chuckle but it's hollow, empty. "You don't know if you love me any more?"

Jungkook's face drops and he lurches towards you, but you step back.

"No, shit Y/N I didn't mean it like that!" He looks scared. "I was just angry and it slipped out."

"Don't." His arms reach for you again but the brush of his fingertips feels scalding hot, wrong. "Don't fucking touch me."

"I'm sorry..."

"Don't lie to me Jungkook." Your vision is blurred with tears as you rip open the closet and yank out a suitcase. "You're not sorry. I was never your muse. I was just a stepping stool to the top."

"Where are you going?" Jungkook's crying now too. It comes out as a sob.

"Home." You say as you rip open your shared closet door and start throwing your things into the case. "I'm going home. Where I belong."

"I can't lose you like this. Please." He reaches for your wrist again but you're already half way to the door.

"Too late." You say. "I'm going home. And I'm never coming back."

The familiar scent of burned popcorn and candyfloss soothes you as you creep through the backdoor of the Crestmont. It always had a broken hinge which opened just enough for a body to squeeze through. Seems not a lot has changed since you left Ocean City.

It's dark inside. Silent too, without the popcorn machine running and the movie trailers playing on LED screens. You don't know what you expected. It's gone midnight by the time you get back to Ocean City, but you don't want to go home just yet.

Comfort washes over you as you run your fingers over the gilded edges of the counter, and slip beneath the hatch on auto pilot. It feels strange to be back here without the starched shirt and bow tie you used to hate. You've swapped out worn sneakers for heels that click against the tiles and you've performed on stages for crowd's bigger than the Crestmont's but here and now, you feel like yourself. Even though everything in your life has changed, you're still the same small town girl underneath it all.

Without thinking your legs carry you to the wall of fame. The faces smile up at you, like they're saying welcome back.

"Hey mom," You whisper, stopping momentarily in front of her portrait. You stared at it for so long as a kid that you have every detail committed to memory but seeing it up this close makes your breath hitch. "It's me."

With a sigh you force yourself past into the hall. Your hands tremble as you push open the door to the theatre. It's just how you remember it, sparkling gold and red velvet and mystery. But there's yellow tape strung up across all the seats and a sign has been propped up on the stage, red glaring letters burning a hole in your heart as you read them.

DANGER. DUE FOR DEMOLISHMENT. STAY AWAY.

All you can do is let your legs buckle, back sliding down the wall as you hug your knees to your chest and let out a throaty sob that echoes from the high ceiling.

When did everything go so wrong? You must be cursed. Everything you touch gets destroyed.

"Y/N?"

The lights flicker on, bathing the room in a soft golden glow. You wipe your tears, but that doesn't stop them from coming.

"Over here."

Your voice is small but a few seconds later Taehyung's face appears from behind one of the velvet seats. His eyes soften when he sees you curled up in the corner.

"What are you doing down here?" He clambers over the seat to join you, his long legs folded awkwardly in the small space.

"Having a one man party." You snort and point to your tear stained cheeks.

"Are you okay?" His hand covers yours and the contact makes you jump.

"Yes..." You sniff. He raises a brow. "No. Jungkook broke up with me."

Taehyung chokes. "What?!"

"I mean, we fought and then he...he said we were over." Your heart stabs painfully but you shrug. "So I came here. Didn't know where else to go."

He places an encouraging hand on your shoulder. "Listen...I know I haven't always been there for you when I should've. Hell, you always took care of me and I never even asked how you were doing." He offers a small smile. "But I'm here now. And you can tell me anything. If...if you want to."

A few seconds tick by in silence. You try to form a sentence but everything just comes back to the same three words.

"I miss mom." You blurt.

It echoes through the theatre, and you can practically hear the mermaids and the cupids painted on the ceiling gasp. It surprises you too, the combination of grief and relief that washes over you at finally admitting it.

"I know." Taehyung pulls you into his chest, lips whispering against your hair as you let out a sob and it's like all the sadness and denial is rushing out of you like a faucet, filling the whole room up like a water tank. You're terrified of the moment it gets too full, and you stop being able to breathe. "But you're a lot like her, y'know."

"That's exactly the problem!" Your words come out as a yell and it makes you both jump. "Everyone always says I look like her, I talk like her, I act like her. And I hated it for the longest time because I hated her for leaving us!"

"But without even realising it I became her, Tae. I did what I always said I wouldn't and became selfish. I hurt you, and Jungkook and even the Crestmont."

"That's not true."

"It is! And the worst part is I don't even hate her any more. I need her. To hold me, and tell me it's going to be alright. But she isn't here!"

"What does this have to do with Jungkook?"

"Jungkook wrote a script. A long time ago. About mom. And you and I. And everything that happened." You swallow, Taehyung's eyebrow raises though he doesn't look at all surprised by this information, nor as horrified as you that a record of your bleak shortcomings exists for anyone to read. "He got a movie deal. That's why we fought."

Taehyung hums. "You don't want him to make the movie?"

"It's not that I...I want to be happy for him. But I can't." You choke. "It's too painful. Remembering."

Accepting.

"When I said you were a lot like mom, I meant that you are headstrong." Taehyung pauses. "I felt that way once too. Like I hated mom and the goddamn world for taking her too soon. But in the end, the only person I hated was myself. Like however hard I tried I could never get over her, and all the pain I was pushing down into a dark place kept taunting me through the nightmares." He shivers, and you grip his hand tighter. "But one day I realised I don't have to be afraid of that pain any more. That pain is a part of me. But that doesn't mean I have to let it win."

"So what did you do?"

"I let myself feel it . I faced it. The only way I could let mom go was to stop running away." He pats your shoulder. "You need to set the girl in that script free, so you can move on."

And just like that, you're swimming...up, up, up, until you reach the surface of the water tank and you can take a heaving breath for the first time.

You throw your arms around his neck. It feels weird to hug him like this, but it's nice. "I missed you, Tae. Thank you.”

"I didn't do anything." He says. "The strength is inside you, you just need to find it. Just like you need to stop holding on to the past and let the new you shine for once."

You shake your head. "I need to talk to Jungkook. I don't know why I stormed off like that and..." You trail off. "Wait, how did you know I was here?"

Taehyung grins. "I didn't. I got called in to sort some paperwork and I noticed the back door ajar. Good thing it was you and not some crazy with a baseball bat, right?"

"At this time?" You nod to his still pyjama clad state. "Is it important?"

"Y/N," He laughs lightly. There's excitement shining in his eyes. "Someone just bought the Crestmont."

You scramble to your knees. "What?"

"We're staying open, and I get to keep my job."

And then you're hugging again, and laughing and crying because the Crestmont is going to be okay. You're going to be okay.

"That's incredible, Tae! Who is it? Who bought the Crestmont?"

"I don't know, it was an anonymous transaction. But the guy said he would be here...." He glances at his wrist watch, and as he does, the door creaks open. "Around now."

"Hello? Anyone here?" A familiar voice calls out.

"Jungkook?" Both of your jaws drop as you poke up from behind the seats. Sure enough your heart flutters when you see him, all wind swept and out of breath like he ran here.

"I thought you might be here." He scratches the back of his neck awkwardly. "Can we talk?"

The car ride to the pier was mostly silent. Jungkook borrowed his dad's old beat up truck -- it was that or his old bike with the pegs on the back -- and it still smelled like leather and petrol like it used to.

Everything about Ocean City is the same as you remember it. The pier stands strong atop the rocky sand, sea air deliciously fresh as it fills your lungs. The rolling waves shimmer like gold dust below the wisps of pink clouds that greet the rising sun. The beach is a peaceful view at this time. No tourists, all of yesterdays sandcastles swallowed by the sea spray. It took a couple hours to work through the paperwork so by now it's early morning — 5:30am according to your phone lockscreen.

It's chilly, and your skin is covered with goose bumps even despite Jungkook's suede jacket wrapped loosely around your shoulders. But you don't mind.

You've missed this. You've missed Ocean City.

"No ice cream, I'm afraid." The breeze ruffles Jungkook's hair as he emerges from the fairground and settles beside you with his legs poking through the rails. He flashes you an apologetic smile. "I guess the parlour doesn't open until 9..."

You feel a pang in your chest. Being here is like a serious case of deja vu. Countless hours spent in this very spot, eating vanilla scoops with rainbow sprinkles beside Jungkook used to be so normal. When did you grow so far apart that you're surprised he even remembers?

"Jungkook..." You swallow hard when you meet his eyes, hands longing to reach out and stroke the stream of sunrise on his cheek that makes his dark eyes sparkle. "We...we need to talk. About everything."

There's a moment of silence filled only by the calls of seagulls greeting the morning before he speaks. "I sold the script."

He sounds nervous. Like he's not quite sure what your reaction will be.

You swallow. "And you used the money to buy the Crestmont?"

"Yeah." He says matter of factly, scratching a phantom itch at his nape. "I guess I did."

"Why?" Your voice is small.

"I can't loose you, Y/N." He murmurs. "Just like you can't loose your mom. The Crestmont was her everything. But you are mine. And loosing the Crestmont would be loosing a piece of you, and I couldn't stand that."

The breeze ruffles his hair as he reaches for your hand and links your fingers and squeezes hard. You don't make any move to stop him. You know what it means, so you squeeze back and return the sentiment. I'm sorry.

Before you can stop yourself you lurch forward, arms curling around his neck and it's like coming home. His hands pull you flush to his chest, hearts beating in sync and you know everything is going to be okay now.

"Thank you." You whisper against his nape. A tear rolls down your cheek and soaks into his collar and before you know it you're blubbering. "Thank you so much, Kook."

"You aren't mad?" His voice is muffled but you can hear the quirk of his brow.

"Mad? No..no..." You lean back and wipe your eyes with your sleeve. "But what about the movie? And your dream to be a director and--"

Jungkook grabs your shoulders. His own eyes are glassy as he tucks a piece of hair behind your ear.

"That was never what mattered to me, Y/N. Not even a little bit. There's one reason I went to New York and it's the same reason I came back to Ocean City tonight. You."

"But--"

"No but's. As long as we're together, I'm already living my dream." His lips turn up into a smile, his eyes tracing your face like it's the first time and he can't get enough. "And I never ever want to wake up."

You shift in your spot to face him properly for the first time, and emotion hits you like a tidal wave. It's like all of a sudden you realize how stupid you've been; to fight with the man before you, a man who only knows kindness, about the trivial when the things that mattered the most were always right here, in front of you. The things that mattered most were always in Ocean City.

You brace your hands on his shoulders and lean up so your lips are inches apart. His eyes fall shut naturally, and you can't help but laugh with what you can only describe as one thing: happiness.

"I love you." You whisper against his lips. A warm palm cups your jaw and closes the distance between them and you're almost too lost in the way Jungkook's kiss takes your breath away to hear his response.

"I love you too."

"Sooo..." You bite your lip with a coy smile when Jungkook pulls away, the blush upon his cheeks scarlet beneath the sun which is rapidly rising. "I take it we're no longer broken up?"

"Well duh," He swats you playfully. "You think I'd do all this just to dump your ass?"

"Hey!" You pout. "I dumped your ass."

Jungkook shakes his head with a laugh.

"Besides," He glances out over the horizon nonchalantly and shrugs. "I'm gonna need help if I'm gonna start my own film company and run the Crestmont."

Your jaw drops. "A what now?"

"A film company." He explains. "A different type of film company, right here in Ocean City. For the outcasts like me who have a vision that even the biggest names in New York can't see yet." He smiles, so big and bright it makes your heart leap. "I'm gonna show them, Y/N. And everything I need to do it is right here in Ocean City."

"I know you will. I never doubted you for a second." You take his hand and link your fingers, squeezing hard. "And you bet your ass I'll be front row to watch each and every one, Jeon Jungkook."

Epilogue.

"Just keep your eyes shut!"

"I already know where we're going, so why can't I look?" You laugh, attempting and failing to tug Jungkook's interlocked fingers away from your eyes.

"Shush, it's a surprise! Just roll with it."

A surprise. That's what Jungkook said earlier too when he woke you up at the crack of dawn by throwing a dress at your head and telling you to meet him outside in the truck in 10 minutes or else.

By the time you pulled up into the familiar parking lot of your not-so-mysterious destination, the sky was already aflame with the glow of morning skimming the horizon, and Jungkook practically leapt out of the truck, palms unusually sweaty as he grasped your hand and pulled you towards the path quicker than your feet could carry you.

"What's the hurry, Kook?" You get out between heavy breaths, quads burning as the path gets steeper beneath your feet.

Come to think of it, your boyfriend has been acting strangely all week. Like hiding things behind his back when you walk into a room or talking in hushed whispers on the phone to Taehyung when he thought you were sleeping.

"You'll see." The path levels out and you stop. Jungkook wraps his arms around your waist, chin tucked into the cleft of your shoulder like a perfect puzzle piece. "Okay. Now you can look."

You round the corner, heart racing when your eyes flutter open and your vision is filled with a sea of yellow flowers. Your place.

The meadow is just how you left it, tall grass and sunny blooms dancing beneath the rays of morning sun peeking out from between the clouds. A warmth spreads through your chest and you both laugh when Gureum lets out an excited yelp, before bounding off between the stems playfully.

"I think the little guy wants us to follow him." Jungkook raises a brow and throws you a knowing shrug.

Excitement flutters in your stomach like a butterfly trapped between cupped palms. "How could I refuse?"

Fingers interlinked, you part the sunflowers and jog after the ball off fluff bouncing across the meadow, the breeze cool and forgiving as it ruffles the strands of hair that billow behind you.

Eventually you reach the clearing, and Gureum wags his tail at you proudly when you stoop down to scratch him behind his ears.

The sun reflects in Jungkook's eyes, turning them a warm golden brown. "Turn around."

You spin on your heels with a questioning glance. "Why?" That's when you see it. The spot where everything began. The tree where Jungkook kissed you all those years ago has bloomed with fragrant blossoms, and twinkle lights glow like tiny stars around it's branches. A blanket is laid out in the sun flecked shade beneath it, littered with feather cushions and lanterns and a trail of sunflower petals that begin at your feet.

"You did this?" You take his chin in your palms, face beaming despite the tears that have started to blur your vision. "Oh, Kook."

"Surprise." He smiles knowingly, grabbing you from behind and spinning you round and round until you both land with a soft thump in the middle of the outdoor cushion fort. "You haven't even seen the best part yet." He says with a nod to his right.

It's then that you notice the white sheet that's strung up a couple meters away between the trunks of two trees, Jungkook's vintage projector set up in front of it.

"What is this?" You ask, bewilderment evident in your voice.

"Gureum, would you do the honours?" Jungkook chuckles, extending a finger to point at a remote that your puppy obediently picks up with his teeth and drops into your lap with a wag of his tail.

Jungkook tucks a piece of hair behind your ear and takes a deep breath, like he's been waiting for this moment for a long time. "Go ahead. Press play and find out."

Your head shakes fondly, but your fingers tremble with anticipation as they find the PLAY button. You press it and the projector starts turning, a light flicking on at the top that makes a grainy image appear on the sheet.

The first scene is you. A teenager, dancing through the sunflower field, laughter spilling from your lips. The first time you hung out. And then it switches. You, again. Cleaning up a spill at the Crestmont, unaware of the camera. You. Paint in your hair as Jungkook chases you around the apartment in New York. You. Tears in your eyes as you hold baby Gureum for the first time. You. Asleep on Jungkook's shoulder on the subway, the camera panning to his face which lights up in a big grin, lips mouthing three words.

I love you.

Tears are hot on your cheeks, laughing as you remember the good moments and the bad, the funny and the sad, all immortalized forever through Jungkook's eyes.

The film fades out, and you throw your arms around your boyfriends neck. He chuckles when you tackle him to the ground, throwing a leg over his lap so that you can lean down and capture his lips between yours in a kiss that says all the words you want to say but you don't know how to. I love you too.

"I take it you liked it, then?" Jungkook says coyly, thumb stroking your cheek.

"It was beautiful Jungkook." You place your hand over his. "Now I know why you're always goddamn filming me."

"What can I say? You're my muse."

"Shut up." You punch him playfully. "You're gonna make me blush."

It's Jungkook's cheeks that flush pink. "Actually..." He starts to sit up, fumbling around in his back pocket. "There's something else."

"Oh?"

He clears his throat. "The first time we came to this place I knew I loved you. Back then, I said I wanted to show you what I found most beautiful. And it was you. It's always been you." He takes your hand, grip tight. "When we met we were just kids with big dreams. We might be older now but heck -- I still don't know what I'm doing. All I know is dreams come and go but you never left. You always stayed by my side. Which is why I want to promise you something."

"What, Kook?" You manage to whisper. Your heart is beating a million miles a minute in your ears. Is this what you think it is?

Jungkook swallows hard, eyes boring into yours.

"That I'll go wherever you go. New York, across oceans, up mountains -- you name it. As long as we're together, everything will be okay. So that's why I wanted to ask..." His fingers tremble as he produces a tiny black box, flicking it open to reveal a ring that sparkles see through in the sun. "Y/N, will you marry me?"

"Oh Jungkook," You throw your arms around his neck, overcome with emotion now as you capture his lips with your own. "Of course I'll marry you. You didn't even have to ask."

He lets out a sigh of relief, and then he's spinning you around in circles until you're both dizzy with love and belly laughter.

"I love you." He whispers, eyes shiny. His hand gently grasps your wrist as he slides the ring onto your finger.

You've heard him say it a hundred times before, but this time it's different. This time it's forever. Your heart flutters.

"I love you too, Kook."

Where there are new beginnings

Ocean City is the same as it always was.

You wake up each morning to the distant crash or waves, and you fall asleep each night to the tinkling fairground music that makes your heart sing. Tourists come and go, flooding the casinos and eating churros on the beach.

The Crestmont is doing better than ever. Once Taehyung took over as owner, the theatre became the heart of the city, attracting visitors from near and far to see the renowned plays directed by none other than Jeon Jungkook, the most sought after playwright and filmographer in all of the East Coast.

And then there's you. Ever since you starred in one of Jungkook's plays, about a girl from a seaside city moving to New York with big dreams, there's been no shortage of movie deals and acting opportunities thrown your way.

But in the end, you always find yourself coming back to Ocean City.

Tonight the Crestmont reopens for business after some much needed renovations. Taehyung is throwing a party, and there will be plenty of big Hollywood faces attending to see the brand new theatre and the updated __.

But one thing will always remain the same. The picture of your mom hung in the gallery. Her big smile is the heart of the Crestmont, greeting each and every visitor with pride.

And in the empty frame at the end of the wall of fame, there's a new picture.

You. Smiling, with your hair over one shoulder, just how you imagined. And beside you is Jungkook, with his arm wrapped around your waist and Taehyung holding Gureum and making a silly peace sign behind your head.

And you wouldn't have it any other way.

Okay so hi if you’re still here!! I decided to put this at the end because I didn’t wanna spoil the ending so please send love to @brekkiejeon​ !! They sent me the request for the ending of this fic all the way back in January and i’m trash and took like 7 months to finish writing it so i hope you enjoyed it even so lovely !!! <3 thank you for the request and sorry for the wait, this one really got me creative lol! 

Also I’d like to dedicate the smut in this fic to @atastefulwonderland​ because I know you love some good ole JK loving!! Hehe, ily~~

Also lemme know if this was bad because I never usually give OC so much backstory because I want it to be as relatable to the reader as poss obvi but these characters wrote themselves lmao like i’m just the writer i had no control okay???? I just do what these mfkers say. LOL.

[prvtocol]

FIRST MEETINGS MEME. a meme for first meetings and introduction threads, aka a ‘what you will notice about my muse first’ cheat sheet. repost, don’t reblog. bold what applies. fill in details.

(please do not remove the credit + blank meme link)

tagged by: @valheri. tysm 💛  tagging:  sorry if i double tag people! @dunadaneth; @neokitsched (a cbp muse you want to flesh out more atm); @mindsmade (vince) ; @yorinobu ; @bellytochin ; @cyberpawn ; @punkunlimited & you too :)

blank meme: x

GENERAL APPEARANCE.

gender: both: cis female.

race: both: caucasian (half-british, half-french)

complexion: b: fair and flawless. | v: pale and freckled.

height: b: 5′5″. | v: 5’9”.

body type: b: very thin, petite frame. | v: thin, athletic.

body hair: both: laser hair removal.

head hair: b: dark brown and wavy. length varies but kept at shoulders or above post-2070. worn down and curl or in a low bun. | v: black and straight. hits below shoulders but usually tied up in a ponytail or messy bun.

eye color: b: sky blue, kiroshi optics mk. 3. | v: gray, kiroshi optics mk. 3.

scars: b: one from a c-section a decade ago. faded. | v: lots of injuries considering the job but all are cosmetically vanquished.

FASHION.

fashion style: both: neomilitarism. no neo-kitsch flash or too much ostentation. vez verges slightly into entropism but most her wear is relatively clean cut.

color palette: b: neutrals. blacks. whites. rarely color for the office |. v: all black.

typical clothing: b: form fitting, knee-length power dresses. long pencil skirts and high heels. | v: combat boots and cargo pants. tanks and leather biker jackets.

piercings: b: none. | v: several lining her earlobes.

tattoos: b: none. | v: pair of crows on her back shoulders blades.

other information: both are modest. never showing too much skin; b: classic. feminine and ladylike. | v: tomboy. always packing iron.

EXPRESSION.

general facial expression: b: polite smile. bright eyes. attentive gaze. | v: vapid gaze. cool disinterest. judging eyes.

default body language: b: hands folded at front. pin straight posture. | v: arms crossed. relaxed posture.

general movements: b: measured and balanced. probably could walk with a book on her head anywhere. | v: not graceful like sis. doesn’t tread lightly except for lynx paws cyberware making it so.

NOTABLE FOR RP.

presence: b: inviting. warm. | v: intimidating. cool.

appearance: b: put together. unassuming/weak. | v: corpo cyberninja.

scent: b: perfume would be very light but effervescent. sunlit citrus, soft rose and/or apple. | v: cigarettes probably. no perfume. don’t worry. she is still a rich girl who likes her long baths.

voice description: v: clear as cut glass | v: husky, coarse (i wrote a description of their voices here)

accent: b: british (contemporary rp). posh. | v: understated french accent and some british intonations.

speech mannerisms: b: formal. use of esoteric terminology. avoidance of slang and curse words. will use british english regardless of location. | v: casual. adopts slang and cusses in language of choice (i.e. french)

anything else to add?  b: office mom. | v: trash corpo.