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heavenlylie · 9 months

Text

lover

pairing: tara carpenter x fem!reader (could be gn!reader too)

summary: you and tara shared enchanted nights under christmas lights, intertwining your hearts in a destined love story. your love became a symphony, echoing through years, forever harmonizing your souls.

warnings: none

word count: 1.4k

a/n: this was based on the song Lover by Taylor Swift. i'm a huge swiftie and this just felt right, it was literally so heartwarming to write this with lover on repeat. also let's pretend i did not just disappear for 6 months! anyway enjoyyy!

The winter winds whispered through the streets of New York City, carrying with them a promise of enchantment. Amid the soft glow of Christmas lights that adorned the city, Tara and you found yourselves entwined in a story that seemed to be written in the stars.

The snowflakes danced around the two of you like tiny white fairies, punctuating the silence of the night with a magical sparkle. Tara's cheeks were rosy, her eyes bright with joy. You smiled at her, and she laughed, the sound echoing through the air as if it were the only thing in the world that mattered.

You reached for her hand, your fingers intertwining as you looked up into the sky, searching for the stars in the night. You both paused, taking in the beauty of the city and the warmth of the moment. Then, you turned to each other and, without a word, stepped forward, deeper into the embrace of the night.

Your hearts connected in those moments, and you both knew that this was something special that would last forever. You were finally in the place you'd been dreaming of - together, in love, and at home. The city was your canvas, and together you created a living masterpiece that you would never forget.

The night was alive with promise, and every step you took together revealed a new layer of excitement. You stopped to admire the holiday decorations that adorned shop windows, and you couldn't help but share secret glances as you laughed at your own stories and memories. A feeling of contentment filled your heart as you held hands and looked into one another's eyes, feeling as if the world was just right this very moment.

You eventually reached an open-air cafe, its tables lit only by the stars in the sky. After ordering drinks, you moved to one of the tables furthest from the city's hustle and bustle.

Comfort feeling your heart knowing that Tara would always save a seat for you, her lover. The sound of laughter around you lingered in the air like soft music, fuelling a shared sense of peace and joy between yourselves.

You began talking about everything - life, love, dreams - until finally there were no more words to be said; just silence that spoke volumes through comfortable silences. The night gradually faded away into morning light without either of you noticing as you stroll through Central Park, time felt irrelevant when it came to your connection.

As dawn arrived, so did an awareness that this night would remain forever etched in both your hearts and minds as something special beyond compare. With one last lingering glance at each other over steaming cups of coffee, Tara smiled softly at you before taking your hand once again and leading both back home.

You stepped through the door of your apartment, a cozy retreat that you had created with Tara. As soon as you crossed the threshold, the outside world melted away and it felt as if nothing else existed but the two of you. This was your kingdom, a safe space filled with laughter and love where no one else could enter.

Here, there were no rules or expectations; just comfort and contentment in each other's presence. In the evenings, you cuddled up on the couch in front of a crackling fire, sipping hot chocolate and talking about your days.

You shared stories and secrets, little moments of joy that had occurred throughout the day — experiences that only you two could understand. As time passed, your conversations slowly transformed into stargazing sessions; mugs in hand, you marvelled at the night sky in amazement.

During wintertime especially, these moments became sacred rituals. The warmth of your connection melted away any chill outside as cuddles replaced blankets and cups of tea replaced mugs of hot chocolate.

As time moved forward so did both your hearts - protecting all the memories made within those walls - so much so that it seemed impossible for anything to break them apart ever again. These were special days that neither one of you would ever forget because here in this little apartment was where two hearts entwined forever made a home.

The apartment began to feel like a canvas for your love, painted with the hues of shared meals, tangled limbs, and whispered secrets. You created your own little world inside those walls, a place where nothing else mattered but the two of you. It was here that your souls connected and intertwined in an indescribable dance.

Time no longer seemed to exist as minutes turned into hours and days fading away into weeks without either one of you noticing. Your connection was more than just physical; it was an intangible bond that neither of you could explain but both knew existed nonetheless.

Even in the midst of friends filling the space with laughter and chatter, your connection remained the heart of it all — unbreakable and unwavering in spite of any outside forces.

As months flew by, so did the moments shared within those four walls, each new experience bringing even deeper understanding and appreciation for one another.

It seemed impossible for anything to ever break apart this bond between you two - not distance or time or anything else this world throws at you - for within these walls, a love had been forged that would remain forever etched in both your hearts and minds as something special beyond compare.

The seasons marched on, leaving footprints in the sands of your relationship. As three summers came and went, your love deepened with every passing day. The passage of time only seemed to enhance the resonance of your emotions, each moment engraving itself into your hearts. In the midst of these fleeting yet timeless moments, you knew that a lifetime would not be enough for either one of you to express the depth of your love for one another.

As autumn arrived bringing it's crisp air and colourful foliage, you decided to make a promise of forever; a promise to stand by each other no matter what life had in store. So on an early Saturday morning in October, with friends and family gathered around you two, right where it all began; you exchanged vows of eternal love and commitment.

In the presence of those who have known and loved you both since the beginning, you stood as a testament to the enduring power of love. The vows you exchanged held the weight of promises to cherish and support one another, no matter what the future held.

As you looked into each other's eyes, you knew that your hearts were forever intertwined; here was a beautiful moment that neither one could put into words - but instead celebrated with tears of joy and elation for this was exactly where they wanted to be for eternity.

Years unfolded like the enchanting notes of a beautiful symphony, delicately weaving together into a melody of love that grew stronger with every passing moment. With each year that passed, your love story blossomed into something even more extraordinary, like a flower opening its petals to the sun's gentle caress.

The warmth and tenderness between you radiated like the soft glow of Christmas lights, illuminating not only the city's streets but also the depths of your souls. And just like those lights that danced through the winter nights until the dawn of January, your love continued to shine brilliantly in every season of your journey.

The memories of your first winter together hold a special place in your hearts, like a treasured memento hidden amongst the pages of a favorite book. The laughter that echoed through your private universe created a symphony of joy that resounded with warmth and comfort. It was a time of shared whispers, stolen glances, and stolen kisses, as the promises exchanged on that momentous day bound your souls together in an unbreakable bond.

These precious memories, like delicate threads, were etched in the tapestry of your love, weaving a story that would be cherished for eternity.

As you reflect upon the chapters of your love story, you realize that your journey together can be likened to a symphony — a beautiful composition that evokes emotions and stirs the deepest parts of your being.

The enchanting melody of your love resonates within your hearts, forever playing in perfect harmony. It is a symphony that is timeless and everlasting, destined to echo throughout the annals of your love story, for it is a melody that will endure. Tara would be your lover, forever and ever.

#tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter #tara x reader #scream 5 #scream 6 #jenna ortega #jenna ortega x reader #jenna x reader

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estellan0vella · 3 months

Text

Cherry - Ryomen Sukuna AU Word Count: 6.9K Content Warnings: Death, Guns, Violence, blood Masterlist for Eras AU

The thrum of bass pulses through the walls of Sukuna's club, a steady heartbeat that syncs with the electric energy of the night. Neon lights flicker and dance over the crowded floor, casting vibrant hues across faces lost in the music.

The rhythm of the music reverberates through your body, each beat syncing with your steady pulse as you lean against the polished mahogany bar. You exude a confidence that commands respect, your every gesture deliberate and controlled. The dress you wear, crafted from the finest red silk, clings to your form.

The ruby necklace around your neck catches the light, casting tiny red reflections that dance across your collarbone. Each piece of jewellery is a statement, a testament to your status and power in this underworld kingdom. The cigarette between your lips burns steadily, a trail of smoke curling upwards, adding to the smoky allure that surrounds you.

Your signature red lipstick glistens under the dim lights, staining the cigarette between your lips, the colour earning you the moniker "Cherry" among those who know you—and fear you.

Sukuna may be the kingpin, the ruler of this underworld, but you're no mere consort. Your presence demands respect, not just because you're his lover, but because you've earned your place. You can handle yourself, and everyone knows it. Tonight, though, Sukuna is away handling business, leaving you to watch over the club.

Your eyes scan the room, always alert, always aware, even as you sip on the cherry wine Sukuna specially imported for you. The crowd is thick tonight, the air electric with anticipation as they wait for the next performance. You take one last drag of your cigarette, exhale a plume of smoke, and extinguish it in a nearby ashtray.

You finish your drink and set the glass down, the clink lost in the surrounding noise. Your stilettos click against the marble floor as you stride toward the stage. The club's manager gives you a nod as you pass, a signal that everything is set. You make your way to the back, slipping through the velvet curtains and into the dimly lit backstage area.

The stage manager hands you a microphone, and you take a deep breath, feeling the familiar weight and cool metal in your hand. The crowd hushes as the lights dim, the anticipation palpable as they wait for their Queen. With a sultry smile, you step out onto the stage, the spotlight capturing your every move.

As the first notes of the piano fill the air, you begin to sing. Your voice is smooth and intoxicating, weaving through the melody with practised ease. The audience is mesmerized, their eyes glued to you, every word and note wrapping around them like a spell. This is your domain, and you revel in the power it gives you. The song is a slow, haunting ballad, a perfect showcase for your vocal prowess and emotional depth.

The music crescendos, your voice rising with it, commanding the attention of everyone in the room. The neon lights cast an ethereal glow over the audience, reflecting off their entranced faces. The song comes to an end, and for a moment, there's silence, the kind that holds a world of unspoken appreciation. Then, the applause erupts, filling the club with thunderous approval. You smile, taking a gracious bow before stepping off the stage.

As you return to the bar, you notice a group of men at a table near the back. They're not clapping, not even smiling. Their eyes are hard, their postures tense. Rival gang members, trying to blend in but sticking out like wolves in a flock of sheep. You can see the tension in their shoulders, the barely concealed weapons under their jackets. They don't belong here.

With a slow, calculated move, you finish your drink and set the glass down, the clink lost in the surrounding noise. Your stilettos click against the marble floor as you stride towards the back office. Inside, you open a hidden drawer, revealing an array of firearms. You choose a sleek, compact pistol, feeling its familiar weight in your hand. A quick check of the ammo, and you're ready.

The music fades as you step back into the main room, your senses sharpening. The rival members have spread out, moving towards key points. Your heart races, but your mind is clear. You're not just Cherry, the glamorous moll of Ryomen Sukuna. You're deadly, and you're about to remind everyone why.

One of them makes the first move, pulling out a gun and shouting a command. The crowd panics, screams rising as people scramble for cover. You don't hesitate. In a fluid motion, you raise your pistol and fire. The first shot hits its mark, dropping the man before he can fire a single round. The club erupts into chaos, but you're a storm of precision and fury.

You weave through the terrified patrons, your heels clicking with each step, a sharp contrast to the chaos around you. Another rival member appears, his eyes widening as he recognizes you. He hesitates, and that's his mistake. You take him down with a single shot, your aim impeccable as the bullet makes its mark between his eyes.

The others are more cautious now, trying to regroup. You use the confusion to your advantage, taking cover behind a pillar and assessing the situation. There are five left, moving towards the VIP section. You dart out, firing two shots in quick succession. One hits a man in the shoulder, the other in the leg, incapacitating them.

The remaining three try to flank you, thinking they can corner you. They underestimate you. You duck behind the bar, grabbing a bottle and smashing it for a makeshift weapon. As one comes around the corner, you slam the jagged glass into his neck, dropping him instantly. Another comes from the opposite side, but you're ready, shooting him in the knee and then the chest.

The last one is the biggest, clearly the leader. He's smarter, staying back and using the crowd as cover. You spot him across the room, near the DJ booth. He's aiming at you, but you don't flinch. With a calculated move, you dive, rolling across the floor and coming up firing. Your bullet hits his gun, knocking it out of his hand. Before he can react, you're on your feet, closing the distance.

He tries to swing at you, but you dodge, your movements swift and precise. You land a hard kick to his gut, making him stagger. He grabs a chair, swinging it wildly. You duck, feeling the air rush above your head. You counter with a high kick, your stiletto connecting with his jaw. He goes down, dazed and bleeding.

You stand over him, gun trained on his forehead. "This is Sukuna's territory," you say, your voice cold and steady. "Tell your boss if he tries this again, he won't have anyone left to send back." The man nods frantically, his fear palpable. You lower your gun, satisfied.

As the police sirens wail in the distance, you holster your weapon and straighten your dress. The club is a mess, but you're unscathed, your lipstick is still perfect. You walk back to the bar, grabbing yourself your bottle of wine, the respect in the eyes of the staff and patrons unmistakable.

You're Cherry, and you've just reminded everyone that you're not just Sukuna's lover. You're a force to be reckoned with, heels and all.

Later, as you sit in Sukuna's opulent office, sipping from your wine bottle, the door creaks open. Sukuna strides in with his characteristic confidence, his sharp eyes taking in the scene. A smirk plays on his lips. "I heard you had some fun tonight," he says, his voice laced with pride and amusement.

You smile, leaning back in the plush leather chair. "Just another night in the life, love."

He crosses the room with purposeful strides, pulling you into a fierce kiss, his hand tangling in your hair. When he pulls back, his eyes are dark with admiration. "You're amazing, dollface."

You grin, wiping a smudge of your maple cherry lipstick from his mouth with your thumb. "I know."

"You know, my sweet Cherry, it's times like these that remind me why I chose you," he murmurs, his voice a low, seductive rumble. "You're more than just a pretty face."

You chuckle softly, leaning into his touch. "I'd hope so, considering the trouble we've seen together."

He smirks, his gaze intense and unwavering. "You didn't just handle it. You owned it. This place, these people—they're all under our control because of you."

You tilt your head, playful and confident. "And because of you, my king. We make a hell of a team."

He pulls you closer, his lips brushing against your ear. "A deadly team," he whispers, his breath hot against your skin. "And tonight, you were magnificent."

Your heart races, not from fear but from the thrill of his words. You slide your hand up his chest, feeling the strong muscles beneath his shirt. "I had to keep our empire safe, didn't I?"

He chuckles, the sound dark and alluring. "And you did it in style, as always."

You feel his hand on your waist, guiding you to sit on the edge of the desk. He stands between your legs, his presence dominating yet comforting. "Tell me, dollface," he says, his eyes locked onto yours, "what did it feel like, taking them down?"

You smile, a slow, dangerous curve of your lips. "It felt powerful. Like I was in complete control. They thought they could walk in here and challenge us, but I showed them who really runs this place."

Sukuna's eyes darken with desire and pride. "You're incredible, dollface. And you're mine."

The possessiveness in his voice sends a shiver down your spine. You lean in, your lips inches from his. "Always yours, Ryo. Just as you're mine."

He closes the distance, kissing you fiercely. The world outside might be chaotic, but here, in this moment, there's only the two of you. Your hands tangle in his hair, pulling him closer as his grip on your waist tightens. The kiss is a battle of dominance, each of you pushing and pulling, testing boundaries and revelling in the power struggle.

When you finally break apart, both of you are breathless. Sukuna's eyes are filled with a mix of lust and admiration. "You're my queen, dollface. Never forget that."

You smirk, your fingers tracing his jawline. "And you're my king. Together, we're unstoppable."

He nods, his gaze never wavering. "Tonight proved that. But it also reminded me how dangerous this life is. I need you to be careful."

You raise an eyebrow, amused. "Careful? Where's the fun in that?"

He growls softly, a hint of frustration and amusement in his eyes. "Just promise me you'll watch your back. I can't lose you."

Your expression softens, and you press a gentle kiss to his lips. "I promise, Ryo. But remember, I'm not some damsel in distress. I can handle myself."

He smirks, his hand cupping your cheek. "I know, dollface. That's why I love you."

You smile as you lean into his touch. "And I love you, too. Now, what do you say we get out of here? I think we both could use a little... downtime."

His eyes glint with mischief. "I like the way you think. Let's go home."

You slide off the desk, hand in hand with Sukuna, ready to face whatever comes next. The two of you make your way through the club, your presence commanding the room as you pass. The staff and patrons watch with a mixture of respect and awe, fully aware of the power you wield together.

Outside, the cool night air is a refreshing contrast to the heated energy of the club. Sukuna's car, a sleek black machine that screams luxury and danger, awaits you. He opens the door for you with a flourish, a playful smirk on his lips. "Your chariot, my queen."

You chuckle, slipping into the passenger seat. "Why, thank you, my king."

As Sukuna slides into the driver's seat, you can't help but steal glances at him. The streetlights cast a soft glow on his sharp features, highlighting the intensity in his eyes. You feel a thrill of excitement, a mix of love and admiration for the man beside you.

The drive home is a silent yet intimate journey, the two of you content in each other's presence. The city lights blur as Sukuna navigates the streets with ease, his hand reaching over to rest on your thigh, a reassuring and possessive touch.

When you arrive at your lavish penthouse, Sukuna parks the car and leads you inside. The moment the door closes behind you, he pulls you into a fierce embrace, his lips finding yours with a hunger that sets your heart racing. You respond with equal fervour, your hands tangling in his hair as you lose yourselves in the passion of the moment.

He breaks the kiss, his breath hot against your lips. "You're everything to me, dollface. Never forget that."

Your eyes lock onto his, the intensity of his gaze sending shivers down your spine. "I know, Ryo. And you're everything to me."

He scoops you up in his arms, carrying you towards the bedroom. You laugh, a joyful sound that echoes through the penthouse. "You're impossible, you know that?"

He grins, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "And you love every minute of it."

You do. With Sukuna, every moment is an adventure, a blend of danger and love that keeps you on the edge of your seat. As he lays you down on the bed, you pull him close, your lips meeting in another searing kiss.

The night is yours, a sanctuary from the chaos of the world outside. Here, in Sukuna's arms, you find solace and strength. Together, you're an unstoppable force, ready to face whatever challenges come your way. But in your home, in this moment, you and Sukuna are simply together, entwined in a love that's as fierce and unbreakable as the empire you've built together.

The night in your penthouse feels endless, a blur of passion and whispered promises. But all good things must come to an end, and with dawn, reality intrudes. The underworld doesn't rest, and neither do its enemies.

In the 1950s, Chicago was a city that never sleeps, a sprawling metropolis where the shadows are long and the danger is ever-present. You and Sukuna have built your empire on the edges of this world, carving out a kingdom in the neon glow of nightclubs and the whispered secrets of back alleys.

The morning light filters through the blinds as you lie entwined in Sukuna's arms, the warmth of his body a comforting shield against the harsh world outside. You trace the lines of his face, memorizing every detail, knowing that each day could be your last. He stirs, eyes opening to meet yours with a soft smile.

"Morning, dollface," he murmurs, his voice rough with sleep.

"Morning, Ryo," you reply, your heart swelling with love for this man who is both your protector and your partner in crime.

He pulls you closer, his lips brushing against your forehead. "We need to be careful today. Word on the street is that some of our rivals are planning something big."

You nod, your mind already racing with possibilities. "We'll handle it, like we always do."

Sukuna smiles, but there's a hint of worry in his eyes. "Just stay close to me, alright?"

You reach up to kiss him, a slow, lingering touch that speaks of your unbreakable bond. "Always, my king."

The weeks pass in a blur of meetings and preparations. Your network of informants keeps you updated on the movements of your enemies, and you and Sukuna make plans to counter any threats.

The two of you spent most of your time in your penthouse, the safest place for you to be while there were threats against your life but the King and Queen of the Underworld had to show their faces ever so often. Show their power and status.

As night falls, you dress in your finest once again, a vision in red silk with your signature ruby necklace. Sukuna, in his tailored suit with a red silk tie, looks every bit the kingpin, his presence commanding and dangerous. Together, you make your way to the club, the heart of your empire.

The club is bustling, the thrum of bass and the chatter of patrons filling the air. You scan the crowd, always alert, always aware. Sukuna stays close, his hand resting possessively on your waist. There's a sense of foreboding, a whisper of something dark and deadly lurking just out of sight.

The first shots ring out as you're crossing the dance floor. Chaos erupts as people scream and dive for cover. You and Sukuna react instantly, your guns drawn as you move in perfect sync, cutting through the crowd with lethal precision.

The attackers are relentless, their numbers overwhelming. You take down as many as you can, your bullets finding their marks with deadly accuracy. But there are too many, and for everyone you drop, another takes his place.

In the midst of the chaos, you catch a glimpse of Sukuna fighting off two men at once. His strength and skill are unmatched, but even he can't hold out forever. Your heart pounds in your chest as you fight your way towards him, desperate to reach his side.

A bullet tears through your shoulder, the pain searing and sharp. You stagger but keep moving, your determination driving you forward. Sukuna sees you falter and his eyes blaze with fury. He fights with renewed ferocity, cutting down anyone who stands in his way.

You finally reach him, your breath coming in ragged gasps. "Ryo," you manage to say, your voice trembling with pain and fear.

His eyes lock onto yours, and in that moment, everything else fades away. "Stay with me, Cherry. We can make it out of this."

The pair of you sprint from the club, heading for Sukuna's car. Not hesitating to shoot any man who pursues you from inside the club.

The street is chaos, sirens wailing in the distance as police cars converge on the scene. You and Sukuna slide into the car, bullets whizzing past you as you peel away from the curb, tyres screeching on the pavement.

Sukuna's driving is precise, his focus unwavering as he navigates the maze of streets, the city lights blurring into streaks of colour. But the police are relentless, their pursuit dogged and determined.

You glance at Sukuna, his jaw clenched in determination as he pushes the car to its limits. "We need to lose them," you call over the roar of the engine.

Sukuna nods, his eyes scanning the road ahead. He takes a sharp turn, narrowly avoiding a collision with an oncoming vehicle. The police cars follow, their sirens blaring, but you and Sukuna are one step ahead.

You duck down in your seat as Sukuna swerves into a narrow alley, the walls closing in around you. The police cars hesitate, unsure if they can follow. It's all the time you need. Sukuna guns the engine, the car lurching forward as you burst out of the alley and onto a deserted street. The police are nowhere in sight, left behind in the maze of the city.

You and Sukuna share a triumphant grin, the rush of adrenaline coursing through your veins. "We did it," you breathe, relief flooding through you.

Sukuna squeezes your hand, his grip firm and reassuring but his eyes flit to the bullet wound in your shoulder. "We always do. But right now, we need to get you patched up,"

You nod, gritting your teeth against the pain. "We can't risk going to a hospital. They'll be swarming with cops."

Sukuna's jaw clenches with determination. "I know a guy. He owes me a favour."

You trust Sukuna implicitly, his connections running deep in the criminal underworld. You lean back in your seat, trying to ignore the throbbing ache in your shoulder as Sukuna speeds through the deserted streets.

Minutes later, you pull up outside a nondescript building, the windows dark and the entrance hidden in shadow. Sukuna leads you inside, his hand steady on your back as he guides you through the dimly lit corridors.

The man Sukuna knows is waiting for you in a makeshift medical room, his face hidden beneath a surgical mask. He nods in recognition as Sukuna approaches, his movements swift and efficient as he begins to tend to your wound.

You hiss in pain as the man cleans and stitches the bullet wound, but you refuse to cry out. You're Cherry, after all, and pain is just another obstacle to overcome in this dangerous world you inhabit.

Once the man is finished, Sukuna hands him a wad of cash, his expression grim. "Keep this between us," he says, his voice low and menacing.

The man nods, slipping the money into his pocket. "Of course, boss. You know I'm good for it."

You and Sukuna leave the building, the night air cool against your skin as you step back into the car. Sukuna's grip on the wheel is tight, his knuckles white with tension.

"Are you okay?" he asks, his voice laced with concern.

You nod, forcing a reassuring smile despite the pain throbbing in your shoulder. "I'll be fine. We've faced worse together, haven't we?"

Sukuna's expression softens, his eyes meeting yours with a mixture of admiration and love. "We have. And we always come out on top."

"So I'm assuming now we plan revenge?" You ask with a sly smirk.

Sukuna returns your smirk, the fire of determination burning bright in his eyes. "Oh, you can count on it, dollface. Those bastards will pay for what they've done."

You lean back in your seat, the adrenaline still coursing through your veins despite the pain in your shoulder. "Good," you say, your voice low and dangerous. "Because I'm not done with them yet."

Sukuna nods, his jaw set with determination. "We'll hit them where it hurts. They'll regret ever crossing us."

The days following the attack are a whirlwind of planning and preparation. You and Sukuna call upon your most trusted allies, gathering your gang for a meeting in the depths of your penthouse. The atmosphere is tense, the air thick with the promise of vengeance.

Sukuna stands at the head of the table, his presence commanding. "They thought they could walk into our territory and challenge us," he begins, his voice steady and cold. "They thought wrong. We're going to remind them who really runs this city."

You stand beside him, your shoulder bandaged but your resolve unwavering. "We won't just defend our empire. We're going to take the fight to them. Every last one of those bastards will pay for what they did."

The room fills with murmurs of agreement, the loyalty of your gang unshakable. Plans are made, weapons distributed, and alliances solidified. The night is long, but by the end, a clear strategy is in place. You and Sukuna will lead the charge, a united front against those who dared to cross you.

That night, you and Sukuna drive through the darkened streets of Chicago, the city lights casting eerie shadows on the buildings. Your destination is a rival gang's hideout, a nondescript warehouse on the outskirts of the city. Your gang follows in a convoy of black cars, each vehicle filled with armed men and women ready for battle.

You arrive under the cover of darkness, the warehouse looming ahead like a fortress. Sukuna gives the signal, and your gang moves into position, surrounding the building. You and Sukuna lead the charge, your guns drawn and ready.

The attack is swift and brutal. You burst through the doors, gunfire echoing through the warehouse as you and your gang take down anyone who stands in your way. The rival gang is caught off guard, their defences crumbling under the onslaught.

You move with precision, your every shot finding its mark. Sukuna is a force of nature beside you, his strength and skill unmatched. Together, you cut through the enemy ranks, leaving a trail of bodies in your wake. As the last of the rival gang falls, you and Sukuna stand victorious, your gang cheering in triumph. But there's no time to celebrate. This is just the beginning.

The days turn into weeks as you and Sukuna dismantle the rival gang piece by piece. Each attack brings you closer to your ultimate goal: the complete annihilation of those who dared to challenge you.

The air in the city is thick with tension, and every night brings a new skirmish, a new victory that pushes you closer to the final showdown. Your enemies fall one by one, their operations dismantled, their power crumbling under your relentless assault.

But the police are closing in. The chaos you've wrought has not gone unnoticed, and the city's finest are determined to finally bring you both to justice. They launch raids on your safehouses, arrest your allies, and close in on your operations. But you and Sukuna are always one step ahead, your cunning and resourcefulness keeping you out of their grasp.

The final confrontation comes on a stormy night, the city streets glistening under a relentless downpour, the air thick with tension and the promise of violence. You and Sukuna are on the run, your loyal gang members doing their best to hold off the police but the net is closing in, and you both know you can't run forever.

As you speed through the streets in Sukuna's car, the sirens wail behind you, their lights a chaotic dance of red and blue in the rearview mirror. "We have to lose them," you shout, your voice tight with urgency and fear.

Sukuna's jaw is set with determination as he navigates the narrow alleys and winding streets, the rain hammering the car roof like the drumbeats of war. He swerves and skids, his skill behind the wheel keeping you just ahead of the law. But the police are relentless, their numbers overwhelming. Each turn is a gamble, but Sukuna's fierce resolve never wavers.

The chase leads you to the edge of the city, the dark waters of the river stretching out before you like a maw waiting to swallow you whole. Sukuna's car skids to a halt, the police forming a tightening semicircle around you. There's no escape.

You and Sukuna share a look, the unspoken bond between you stronger than ever. His eyes, stormy with resolve, meet yours, and in that moment, you see everything you need to know. "We go out together," he says, his voice firm and resolute.

"Always," you reply, your heart swelling with fierce love and determination.

You step out of the car, your guns raised, ready to face the inevitable. The rain soaks through your clothes, chilling you to the bone, but you don't flinch. You and Sukuna stand side by side, your fingers intertwining for a brief, final moment. The neon lights of the city reflect off the wet pavement, casting an eerie glow on the scene.

The first shots ring out, the sound deafening in the night. You and Sukuna return fire, your bullets finding their marks even as the police close in. The air fills with the acrid smell of gunpowder, the flashes of gunfire illuminating the rain-soaked streets. The world narrows to the sound of gunfire, the sting of rain on your face, and the warmth of Sukuna's presence beside you.

You feel a bullet tear through your side, the pain searing, but you don't stop. You keep fighting, your love for Sukuna giving you the strength to push through the agony. Beside you, Sukuna is a whirlwind of fury, his every shot a testament to his determination to protect you. His face is set in a grim mask of concentration, every move precise and deadly.

But the odds are against you. The police are too many, their firepower overwhelming. You feel your strength waning, your vision blurring as the blood loss takes its toll. The pain is almost unbearable, but you grit your teeth and keep firing, refusing to give in.

In your final moments, you turn to Sukuna, your eyes locking onto his. "I love you, Ryo," you whisper, your voice barely audible over the chaos.

His eyes soften, his love for you shining through even in the face of death. "I love you too, dollface," he replies, his voice strong and steady. "Forever."

As the world fades to black, you take comfort in the knowledge that you faced your end together, as you always promised you would. Your fingers lace with Sukuna's one last time, a final connection in the midst of the storm as he pulls you close to him. The pain fades, replaced by a sense of peace, and you let go, knowing that you lived and died by his side.

The unrelenting rain continues to pour from the darkened skies, cold and unforgiving, as it washes away the crimson stains on the cobblestone. The solemn figures of police officers stand vigil over the lifeless forms of Cherry and Sukuna, the esteemed and infamous Queen and King of the underworld. Both figures are bathed in a chilling coat of red, their lifeless hands still intertwined, and Cherry's body lying atop Sukuna's, the fallen king's arms enfolded protectively around her.

Even in death, he cradles her close, as if defiantly shielding her from the world's conclusive acts of cruelty. Their once vibrant eyes, wide open yet now unseeing, reflect the tumultuous sky above, the rain intermingling with blood, each element bearing witness to the tragic tale of their final and valiant stand.

"They were some crazy fuckers, huh?" one officer mutters to his colleagues, his voice tinged with a mix of awe and disbelief.

Another officer, younger and less jaded, stares at the entwined bodies. "Yeah," he agrees softly. "But look at them. Even in death, they didn't let go."

The senior officer shakes his head, rain dripping from the brim of his hat. "Love like that," he says quietly, almost to himself. "It's rare. Even if it was twisted and dark, it was real."

The squad car lights cast eerie, flashing shadows on the walls of the surrounding buildings, illuminating the tragic scene in bursts of red and blue. The officers move to secure the area, but for a moment, they all pause, drawn by the haunting tableau before them.

As the rain washes away the last traces of their life, the officers stand in silent contemplation, each lost in their thoughts. The weight of what they witnessed lingers in the air, a testament to a love that defied the world and left an indelible mark on the annals of crime and passion.

Decades later, the legend of Cherry and Sukuna, the formidable King and Queen of the underworld, continues to capture the imagination of many. In a hallowed lecture hall at an esteemed university, a young, pink-haired criminology professor stands before a rapt audience.

Behind him, illuminated by the soft glow of the projector screen, hangs a grainy photograph immortalizing the enigmatic duo, their visages frozen in an eternal dance of defiance and allure.

Cherry, a vision of elegance and allure, is adorned in a luxurious satin red dress that clings to her every curve, its neckline plunging daringly low, a scandalous testament to her boldness. A luxurious black fur coat drapes languidly over her shoulders, a symbol of her opulent lifestyle. Around her neck and wrists, dangling from her ears and adorning her fingers, jewels glimmer in the dim light, all encrusted with the finest rubies and diamonds and a cigarette dangles between her red-painted lips.

Beside her, Sukuna cuts a striking figure, a cigarette in his left hand, his presence commanding and formidable. Clad in a meticulously tailored black suit, he exudes an air of effortless sophistication, his fedora perched at a rakish angle atop his head adding a touch of mystery to his already magnetic allure. A crimson silk tie, perfectly knotted, matches Cherry's dress. His fingers, adorned with silver rings encrusted with rubies, trace a possessive arc around Cherry's waist, a silent declaration of their unbreakable bond.

As they gaze into each other's eyes, the intensity of their connection is palpable, a potent blend of desire, admiration, and mutual respect. In that fleeting moment captured by the lens of history, they are more than mere criminals; they are legends in the making, their love and ambition etched into the very fabric of the underworld.

"Cherry and Sukuna," the professor begins, his voice carrying the weight of history. "Two names that struck fear into the hearts of many in the 1950s. They built an empire in the shadows of Chicago, a kingdom of crime and power. But they were more than just criminals. They were lovers, partners, and in many ways, they were inseparable."

The students listen intently, their faces a mix of fascination and awe. The professor continues, "Their love was their greatest strength and their ultimate downfall. In the end, they chose to face their fate together, side by side, just as they had lived. Their story is a tragic one"

He pauses, looking at the photograph. "They say that Cherry and Sukuna's love was so powerful that it transcended the criminal world they inhabited. It was a love that defied the odds, a love that was both their greatest strength and their greatest vulnerability. And in the end, it was a love that would be remembered forever."

The professor pulls up the crime scene photographs, Sukuna's car riddled with bullet holes, blood staining the right side doors. Then he shows the picture that had led to the criminal lovers gaining their infamous post-death moniker: 'The Eternal Lovers.' The picture is of Sukuna and Cherry's corpses.

The image is haunting: Sukuna's lifeless body cradling Cherry's, his arms wrapped around her as if to shield her from the world even in death. Cherry's dress is soaked with rain and blood, her hand still clasped in Sukuna's. Their faces, serene and defiant, seemed to challenge anyone who dared to separate them.

"They say a picture is worth a thousand words," the professor murmurs, his voice filled with a mix of reverence and sorrow. "But this one speaks volumes about the depths of their connection. It tells a story of love, defiance, and tragedy. Cherry and Sukuna's legacy isn't just about their reign of terror; it's also about the unyielding bond they shared, a bond that death couldn't sever."

"How did Cherry and Sukuna meet?" a student asks, their voice cutting through the silence.

The professor smiles a hint of mystery in his eyes. "Now that is something no one knows," he says, leaning against his desk. "One day, the criminal underworld was ruled by a King, and then suddenly he has a queen."

He pauses, letting the weight of his words sink in. "There are countless theories, of course. Some say they met in the most unlikely of places, others believe it was a fated encounter. But the truth is, Cherry and Sukuna's meeting is shrouded in as much mystery as their reign. The local museum has a lot of memorabilia collected from the time of their reign. They have the car from the final stand on display along with the outfits from that night"

As the lecture comes to an end, the students file out of the room, their minds filled with the tale of Cherry and Sukuna. The professor remains behind, staring at the photograph. He can't help but feel a sense of admiration for the couple who lived and died by their own rules, their love immortalized in the annals of history.

His thoughts drift back to the rainy night that marked the end of Cherry and Sukuna's reign. The police reports, the newspaper headlines, the testimonies of those who had witnessed the final showdown – they all painted a picture of a love that was fierce and unyielding, even in the face of certain death.

The professor had pored over these documents countless times, trying to understand what drove them, what bound them together so tightly that they chose to face their end together rather than surrender.

He recalls a particular line from a witness statement, an elderly woman who had watched the final moments unfold from her apartment window.

"They stood there in the rain, hand in hand, as if nothing else in the world mattered. It was as if they were saying goodbye to everything and everyone, but not to each other. He pulled her close and the bullets rained down on them and tore through them. Even when they dropped, he held her like she was his everything. I suppose she was."

The professor sighs, turning off the projector and gathering his notes. He knows that in another few weeks, he'll be teaching this same lesson to another group of students, passing on the legend of Cherry and Sukuna. As he locks up the lecture hall, he takes one last look at the photograph.

Walking through the quiet corridors of the university, he wonders about the choices we make in the name of love and the legacies we leave behind. Cherry and Sukuna may have lived a life of crime, but their story is a reminder that even in the darkest of places, love can shine through, defying the odds and leaving an indelible mark on history.

The professor's footsteps echo down the empty hallway as he walks past glass display cases filled with artefacts from the same era: vintage newspapers, old pistols, and police badges, each item a silent witness to the turbulent times of Cherry and Sukuna.

He stops in front of a case displaying two pistols, one sleek black and one with cherry red accents. The guns, reputedly Sukuna and Cherry's, were found at the site of their last stand. He stares at them, imagining the man and woman who once used them, a couple who lived fiercely and loved even more fiercely.

A soft sound startles him out of his reverie. He turns to see a young woman standing nearby, clutching a notebook. She looks at the photograph on the projector screen, then back at him.

"Professor, can I ask you something?" she says hesitantly.

"Of course," he replies, curious.

"Do you think... do you think they knew how their story would end? That they would be remembered this way?"

The professor considers her question. "I think they knew they were living a life that would lead to an inevitable end. But I also believe that they were more focused on living each moment fully, especially with each other. They were aware of the risks, but their love gave them the courage to face those risks head-on."

The young woman nods, deep in thought. "It's just... it's kind of beautiful, isn't it? To be remembered for something so... passionate."

The professor smiles. "Yes, it is. It's a reminder that love, in its purest form, can transcend everything – even the darkest of legacies."

As the young woman walks away, the professor turns off the last light in the hallway. He leaves the university, stepping out into the cool night air, the story of Cherry and Sukuna lingering in his mind.

As Professor Yuji Itadori walks through the rain-soaked streets, he feels the weight of his family's legacy bearing down on him, a legacy shaped by the love and turmoil of his grandparents, Cherry and Sukuna.

Growing up, Yuji had been shielded from the darker aspects of his family's past, but snippets of their history had always found their way to him, whispered secrets passed down through generations. He had listened with a mix of fascination and trepidation, knowing that his own identity was intricately woven into the tapestry of Cherry and Sukuna's legend.

Yet, despite the allure of his family's infamous past, Yuji had chosen a different path. He had forged his own identity, separate from the shadows that had haunted his grandparents. He had embraced his surname, Itadori, a surname his grandparents had given their only son before sending him away from the criminal underworld of Chicago.

But even as Yuji sought to carve out his own destiny, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was still tethered to the legacy of Cherry and Sukuna. Their blood flowed through his veins, their stories whispered in the winds of his dreams. And as he walked through the rain-soaked streets, he couldn't help but wonder about his place in their tale.

Was he destined to follow in their footsteps, to be consumed by the same darkness that had defined their lives? Or could he forge a new path, one guided by his own principles and convictions? The answers eluded him, lost in the labyrinth of his thoughts.

As he navigated the streets of the city, Yuji felt a sense of unease gnawing at the edges of his consciousness. The weight of his family's history pressed down on him, a burden he couldn't shake. But amidst the storm clouds that gathered overhead, there flickered a glimmer of hope.

For Yuji knew that the legacy of Cherry and Sukuna was not just one of darkness and despair. It was also a legacy of love, of sacrifice, of the enduring power of the human spirit. And as he walked through the rain-soaked streets, he vowed to honour that legacy in his own way, to carve out a future that was uniquely his own, yet forever intertwined with the echoes of his family's past.

Taglist: @sad-darksoul

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lennadanvers · 8 months

Text

Pure Imagination: wearing his band's t-shirt

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader

Jeff holds the very first Corroded Cofin’s merch with his arms extended. Eddie is just as proud as him, if not more. The band has been working on the design for at least a couple of years. It started as doodles on the back of Garreth’s notebook, at lunch, when all of them were still in high school.

Admittedly, Eddie wasn’t paying full attention to what was going on. But who could blame him? That day- a grey Wednesday- you were wearing short rain boots that made your legs look so… out of reach. And your hair! Over the months, Eddie had arrived to the conclusion that you liked rain more than normal people did. He’d caught you walking way too slowly on your way through the parking lot more times than you’d probably like to know. Sometimes you did it even if you didn’t need to. He was sure this was the case. Your hair was wet, tiny drops shining under the yellow lights of the cafeteria. Diamonds would have looked amazing on you. But he’d never touched a real diamond, much less did he have the money to buy you some. What a shame. A terrible loss for the mineral kingdom, truly.

That day, Dustin’s hand gripping his shoulder forced his attention back to his own table, where Jeff and Gareth were having a heated debate about whether the use of green was appropriate for a corroded coffin or not.

Now, a graduation and a rainbow of deterioration colors later, they are in presence of the first Corroded Coffin t-shirt ever. Ever.

And all Eddie can think about is how it would look on you.

Maybe they can make one in your size. Black suits you. Everything suits you, if he's honest. But the hypothetical way you’d look after one of their presentations concerts, wearing their name- flushed cheeks, hair up to fight the heat moistening your neck with perspiration- has a special place in his belly. He remembers he’s made a pendant out of one of his guitar picks. It would fit perfectly with the other charms on your bracelet. It doesn’t have diamonds, but it’s worth just the same to him.

As he smiles and admires the t-shirt- a milestone in their musical career- Eddie lets the vision take over his reality. In his head, you want to wear it- you like love his music, so much that you’re always in the front row, yelling the lyrics he wrote about you. You smile at him- not just in his direction. When he gets down of the stage, it is to find you. You run up to him, and he catches you. Your legs go around Eddie’s waist, your arms behind his neck: your whole body hugging his. He gets to have your eyes on him. You hold Eddie's guitar for him- he trusts you. Maybe you even pretend to play it and he becomes a puddle of a man.

But then Jeff folds the t-shirt and he realizes not only that he’s not at the Hideout, but also that you’re not wearing his name on your clothes.

Someday, he promises himself. Someday… the voice in his head sounds like the pastor that preaches on the radio: Heaven is waiting for us devotees.

Taglist: @whataboutbibi @hellfirenacht

Hope you liked it <3

Masterlist

#eddie munson x you #eddie x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #stranger things #fanfiction #corroded coffin

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hamsterclaw · 9 months

Text

Grounded

Bangtan Christmas 2023 drabble 3 - read the rest here.

You find yourself on Earth, navigating life as a fallen angel with the help of Jungkook, who has his own problems.

Pairing: Jungkook x f! reader

Rating: 18+

Word count: 7.2k

Warnings: Sex, swearing, depiction of depression and loneliness, mentions of blood

It feels like you’ve been asleep a long time by the time you open your eyes.

The sky above you is an overcast sort of grey, and there’s a face looking down at you.

Wide brown eyes, soft and worried-looking, and an aura so light and beautiful you feel warm.

‘Are you an angel?’ you ask.

The words feel strange in your mouth. This body feels strange, like it’s too tight to contain you.

Instead of answering your question, the man with the beautiful aura looks even more worried.

‘Did you hit your head?’ he asks.

His voice is soft, with a silvery musicality to it that you like listening to.

You realise you’re on your back, and the ground beneath you is hard and uncomfortable.

You sit up, and realise he’s holding something out to you, soft and fluffy and clean-smelling.

‘Put this on,’ he says.

You’re confused until he slips it over your head.

‘Where are your clothes?’ he asks.

You take in the way he’s dressed and looking around, realise there are other people walking around you, all dressed like he is.

Apart from the soft garment he’s put on you, you’re bare.

What’s happened to you?

Everything around you is too bright, too loud, and too unfamiliar.

You can’t remember where you were before this.

‘Here,’ he says. ‘I live round the corner. Do you want me to call someone for you?’

You stare at him, uncomprehending.

He sighs. ‘Do you want money?’

Then, as you’re deciding what you want to say, he says, ‘fuck. Come with me.’

You follow him across the road, so close you bump into him when he stops to check where you are.

He stops in front of a building with doors that slide open, leads you up a narrow stairwell and unlocks a door.

He pushes it open in front of you with a murmured, ‘go in.’

You step into a small room which looks crowded with things.

The man closes the door behind you. Then he disappears into another room.

You look at the pictures on the wall curiously. There are a few images of him, some where he’s smiling, some where he’s with other people.

There’s a chair in a corner of the room, large, soft-looking.

You curl up in it and lay your head down.

***

This time, when you wake, it’s slow, less jarring.

There’s music playing, not like anything you’ve heard before but you like it. It’s atmospheric, low, like the waiting room to ascend.

The waiting room to ascend? To where? A memory tickles at your brain, you reach for it but it’s gone.

All that’s left is the man from earlier. He looks different, he was dressed all in black but now he’s in white and grey. You can see black ink running up his arm, chasing lean muscle and veins.

‘Do you have somewhere to go?’

His voice makes you sit up.

‘Somewhere to go?’ you repeat.

‘Yeah. You can’t stay here.’

You’re so slow, this body is so slow, weighing you down.

‘I can go,’ you say, finally. You stand and look around, wondering where he wants you to go.

Then you realise the problem is more that you have nowhere to go.

But it’s not this man’s problem, despite his beautiful, light aura.

The realisation hits you like a lightning bolt.

There’s only one place on all the realms where people are possessive about what’s theirs, where they live in tiny kingdoms of their own making.

You’re on Earth, and that must mean —-

You look down at your hands, wondering how you didn’t notice sooner.

You’re on Earth, and you’re ——

Human.

The smile on your face makes him blink.

‘Thank you,’ you say, gratefully.

You look around, identify the exit, and leave.

***

Being human is exhilarating.

It’s also terrifying.

The ground’s cold under your bare feet, the night air cool and sweet.

There are so many noises you keep turning to see.

Voices, the rush of cars flying by, the wind.

You’re so busy looking around you don’t even realise you’ve collided with someone until you’re pushed off your feet and you find yourself on the ground.

The person who’s collided with you snaps, ‘look where you’re going!’

Before you can answer, they’re off.

You get up carefully. There’s blood running down your leg from your knee. It stings but you don’t mind.

You’ve never seen blood coming out of you before.

You guess angels aren’t used to that sort of thing.

You stop dead again, the realisation hitting you.

You’re human now, painfully so, but you were an angel.

You’ve fallen.

The grief makes you double over and keen. You’re acutely aware that you’re individual now, away from the fold, the consciousness.

You’re barely aware of the arm around you, leading you off the kerb, onto a set of steps.

‘Are you ok?’

It’s the only voice you know now, the man from earlier.

‘Shit, you’re bleeding.’

The graze on your knee, bright and hot and painful, pulls you out of your stupor.

You blink until your vision clears.

The man says, ‘I was going to give you some money to take with you. There’s a hostel down the street, they’ll have room.’

You look at the paper bills he’s holding out to you. He sighs, and pockets them again.

‘Look, I’ll take you there. You shouldn’t be walking around, it’s late.’

You follow him because you don’t know what else to do.

He takes you to a sort of front entrance, talks to a bored looking person behind a counter.

Despite your grief, you’re curious. You’ve always envied humans and their arbitrary experiences that they place so much importance on.

‘What’s your name?’ he asks.

You stare at the poster next to the desk.

‘Sky,’ you say, unconvincingly.

He raises an eyebrow, but writes it down in a book.

‘Date of birth?’ he asks. Then he sighs. ‘Never mind.’

You watch as he writes 01/09/1997.

Some money exchanges hands, he turns to you with a key dangling from his fingers. ‘It’s on the right,’ he says.

He seems to be waiting for something, so you say, ‘thank you.’

He starts to hand you the keys, then he says, ‘I’ll see you to your room.’

On the way he glances at you. ‘I only had enough money for two nights so you’ll need to find somewhere else to stay after that.’

‘Yes,’ you say, because he looks like he’s waiting for an answer.

He unlocks the door, pushes open a room, bare and empty, a naked bulb hanging from the ceiling.

He looks around the room, lips in a straight line.

You say, tentatively, ‘what’s your name?’

‘It’s Jungkook,’ he tells you.

You smile at him. ‘Thank you, for everything, Jungkook.’

He nods. He hands you the keys. His hand is warm.

He seems reluctant to leave, but he takes one last look at you and then turns to go.

It’s only after the door closes firmly behind him that you can tear your eyes away.

You sit on the chair by the tiny window. The sky is lit up with lights from city buildings, you can’t see any stars.

You’ve never felt so small, or insignificant, or alone.

***

You wake to the door of your room opening, a high slice of light in the dark.

‘Who’s that?’ you ask, sitting up.

There’s the figure of a person, the sense of being approached.

You’re half out of bed when you’re pushed back down, rough so that you hit your head on the wall.

The person’s hot breath on your face makes your insides churn with fear. You don’t know him, but even an ex-angel like you knows danger when it’s close.

And he’s so very close, grunting, touching your skin, pushing your top up to expose more of you.

You push with your heavy but strangely ineffectual arms.

He pins your weight on the bed with his body.

You lash out wildly, and the heel of your hand makes contact with flesh. There’s a crack, a spray of wet right on your face, an agonised scream.

You kick out and stumble into the light.

***

You wake in a different place to where you fell asleep.

You remember running until you found yourself on the steps of Jungkook’s building, with no way to get in.

You must have fallen asleep waiting. He must have found you, because now you’re back in his apartment.

‘How badly are you hurt?’

You sit up abruptly, wincing at the unusual sensation of a throbbing in your head.

‘I don’t know,’ you say, small.

Jungkook sighs, and his exasperation with you, now, is too much to bear.

‘I’m sorry,’ you say. You get up too quickly and the world spins.

Jungkook steadies you gently, helps you sit back down.

You realise he has a washcloth in his hand, damp.

He starts wiping your face. His hands are big, gentle.

‘You’re covered in blood, but you don’t seem hurt,’ he says, quietly.

‘I hit someone,’ you explain, remembering. ‘Someone came into my room, tried to get on top of me.’

Jungkook’s lips press into a thin line. His eyes flash with some sort of emotion you can’t read.

All he says is, ‘do you want to get cleaned up?’

By the time you get out of his bathroom, freshly scrubbed, dressed in a set of Jungkook’s clothes, there’s a delicious smell wafting in from the direction of the kitchen.

Jungkook comes out and takes in the sight of you in his too-big t-shirt and sweats. His lips curve in what looks like the beginning of a smile.

‘When did you last eat?’ he asks.

The words come out carelessly.

‘Angels don’t need to eat like humans.’

He stops in his tracks.

‘What did you say?’

‘Angels don’t need to eat,’ you repeat.

He’s looking at you carefully now.

‘I’m not an angel now though, not anymore,’ you clarify. ‘I’m fallen.’

Jungkook gapes at you.

You step past him, heading for one of two bowls he’s got on his tiny kitchen breakfast counter.

‘Is this for me?’ you ask.

‘Yeah,’ Jungkook says. He’s still staring at you, but after a moment he takes the seat across from you and starts eating too.

***

Jungkook says, ‘My friend Namjoon owns a bookstore. He needs someone to help him, and he’ll pay you. It’s not much, but it’s a start.’

‘It’ll give you something to do when I’m at work,’ he adds.

Namjoon’s bookstore is nice. It’s small and there’s not a lot of room, but you like the way it’s laid out. You like the books and you also like Namjoon. He’s quiet but he has kind eyes.

Like Jungkook.

You can’t see Namjoon’s aura as clearly as you can see Jungkook’s, but you catch glimpses of it from time to time.

At the end of a week, Namjoon presses some money into your hands.

‘Jungkook said you need to save up some money,’ he says. ‘You can come back next week.’

You look at the crisp bills in your hands and shove them into the pocket of the jeans Jungkook insisted on buying for you.

On your way home you pass the hot dog cart you’ve been walking by all week. You’re buying one for yourself when it occurs to you that Jungkook might like one too.

You hurry home with your hot snacks in your hands and let yourself into his apartment. There’s noises coming from his bedroom, so you knock and push open the door.

Only to be confronted by Jungkook’s startled face as he lifts his head from between a female stranger’s legs.

You step back quickly, murmuring apologies.

You put both hot dogs on the table. You know you probably weren’t supposed to barge in his room like that.

You can hear Jungkook’s footsteps.

You don’t have time to do anything but freeze.

‘Are you ok?’ he asks. He’s put more clothes on. He stops at the door to the kitchen, looking at you carefully.

‘I’m ok. I’m sorry!’ you say. Your face burns with embarrassment.

He’s looking at the hot dogs, you’re not surprised, you’ve only just met him but you know he likes food.

‘I got paid,’ you say, holding out the roll of cash Namjoon’s given you.

He smiles. You start to calm, he doesn’t seem angry with you for interrupting.

There’s more footsteps, and the woman from Jungkook’s room appears beside him.

You apologise quickly.

You don’t even realise you’re still talking until Jungkook touches your arm.

Your eyes snap to his.

‘Thank you for the hot dog,’ Jungkook says. ‘Hyeri and I are going out tonight, ok? I won’t be back until tomorrow.’

‘Sure,’ you say, nodding vigorously.

You’re too embarrassed to watch them leave.

***

You’re in Namjoon’s bookstore, going through a stock list, when the door opens.

You can’t stop the smile that stretches your cheeks when you realise it’s Jungkook.

‘Hey,’ he says, casual, even though he’s smiling too. ‘When’s your lunch hour?’

‘In twenty minutes,’ you tell him.

‘You can go now if you like,’ Namjoon says, appearing from the back office. He greets Jungkook with a casual wave.

‘Come on,’ Jungkook says. ‘You like hot dogs don’t you?’

He takes you to the cart you visited the other day, buys you one with the works, the same for himself.

He looks like he’s about to sit down on the park bench by the cart when you say, ‘There’s a place I usually go.’

He looks at you holding your hot dog, and his lips curve in the beginnings of a smile. ‘Show me.’

You take him across the park, towards the lake. There’s a tiny patch of flowers blooming, yellow daffodil heads a splash of bright in the otherwise barren ground.

You hold out your hand, inviting him to sit. The bench is smaller than you’d realised, he has to shuffle up close so you both fit.

You don’t mind. He feels nice pressed against you.

Jungkook and you eat in silence.

His company is so calming, he makes what is usually a lonely lunch a totally different experience.

‘Thank you for lunch,’ you say, touching his hand.

He looks down at your hand on his. He doesn’t make any move to touch you back, just smiles.

You move your hand away.

‘I like eating with you,’ he tells you. ‘What do you want for dinner?’

You consider this thoughtfully. ‘I like pizza,’ you suggest.

He laughs. ‘Maybe we can go to a restaurant one of these nights.’

There’s a gust of wind, and you shiver a little.

Jungkook frowns at your thin jacket. ‘You can borrow some of my clothes if you want.’

‘I borrow a lot of your clothes,’ you remind him.

‘I mean, coats,’ he says. He gets up, and you do too.

‘Don’t angels need to dress warm?’ he asks. There’s a sparkle in his eyes that tells you he’s teasing you.

‘I never worried about clothes,’ you say, honestly.

‘Where are your wings?’

He’s still teasing you, but you feel a pang.

You’d loved your wings.

You force a smile. ‘I’d get a lot of attention walking around Earth with wings,’ you say lightly.

He’s looking at you carefully, but he doesn’t say anything else, just walks with you back to Namjoon’s bookstore.

‘In a few weeks you’ll have enough for a deposit on your own place,’ he remarks.

You will. You’d looked up listings a few nights ago.

‘I saw another job I might apply for,’ you tell him. ‘I could do it on weekends.’

‘Sure,’ Jungkook says. ‘If you want.’

He doesn’t say anything more, just waves at Namjoon through the glass door, then walks off, down the street.

He moves with an easy grace you love to watch.

***

You’re sitting on Jungkook’s pull out sofa bed, sketching, when he comes out with a paper bag.

He stands a little awkwardly next to you. ‘I got this for you, if it’s not your size I can exchange it,’ he tells you.

You look in the bag and pull out a puffy coat. It’s black, and it looks like it’ll fit you a lot better than Jungkook’s oversized clothes.

You run your hand over the furry inner lining. It’s so soft. You look up at him, excited.

‘Try it on,’ he urges.

You jump up and pull it on over your pyjamas. It fits perfectly.

‘I love it,’ you tell Jungkook. ‘It’s so nice.’

He doesn’t say anything, but you can tell he’s pleased at your reaction.

He reaches out, helps you zip up. His hand brushes across your breast, and he pulls away quickly.

‘Sorry,’ he says, even though you’re not bothered at all.

To cover the momentary awkwardness, you blurt out, ‘Wait. I have something for you too.’

You reach for the rucksack Jungkook’s loaned you and pull out the small wrapped package you got for him.

‘Open it,’ you urge.

You can’t wait for him to see it.

He gives you a look you can’t quite decipher as he undoes the pretty wrapping.

He lifts the lid on the box and for a moment just looks at the contents.

‘They’re wings,’ you say.

They’re a tiny crystal ornament in the shape of wings that you noticed in the shop window of the little antique furniture shop you pass on the way to Namjoon’s every day.

‘They’re pretty,’ Jungkook says quietly.

‘I got another job,’ you tell him. ‘It’s in a coffee shop near Namjoon’s store. I start this weekend.’

Jungkook lifts the crystal wings carefully out of the box, letting the light bounce off each facet.

‘It pays well,’ you say, like you would know the difference.

He’s still quiet.

‘Tell me what being an angel is like,’ he says, suddenly.

You gaze at him, unsure where to start.

‘It’s different from being human.’

He’s got the wings propped in the palm of his hand.

‘I felt less weighted before,’ you try to explain. ‘I was in more places at once but I wasn’t tethered anywhere, not like now.’

He’s laid back on the sofa bed next to you, looking up at the ceiling.

You’re starting to realise Jungkook has his own demons.

You reach out and touch his hand.

He doesn’t move.

You squeeze gently, and as you’re moving your hand away he lifts his hand and places it on yours.

You wonder if your touch is as calming for him as his is for you.

‘Tell me more,’ he says. He looks over at you.

So you tell him everything you know. You keep talking until his breathing’s slow and easy, until his lashes flutter whilst he dreams.

***

You’re tired today, the walk home is like wading through mud.

Cham, the manager at your cafe job, tired you out today. He finds a reason to touch you every time he passes, and his touch doesn’t calm you like Jungkook’s does.

In fact, it does the exact opposite.

Every time he brushes his hand past your ass it makes you jump.

You’ve spent most of the day trying to keep your back against the wall.

You’re looking forward to a shower and maybe talking to Jungkook.

You can hear music throbbing through the walls as you turn into your hallway.

The door opens before you’ve even taken your key out.

‘Hey! You must be Sky,’ says a tall guy with dark hair.

He’s handsome, with glowy golden skin and dark brows, a straight nose and a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

You smile at him.

‘I’m Taehyung,’ he says, holding out a hand for you to shake.

You walk into Jungkook’s place behind him.

There are more people inside, music playing loud, the lights dimmed.

Jungkook grins at you lazily when he sees you. He looks different, but you can’t put your finger on why.

He’s sprawled on the couch, a beer dangling from his hand.

‘You hungry, angel?’ he asks.

You’re shrugging off your coat, and his eyes linger on your chest. You look down, wondering if there’s a stain on your top.

Jungkook flicks his tongue over his lip, and there’s a heat in his gaze that makes you feel tingly.

‘I’m not hungry,’ you tell him.

‘I am,’ he says, softly.

His eyes travel down your body again, and there’s a pulse of arousal between your legs that makes your thighs squeeze together.

Jungkook’s eyes darken even more.

‘I should take a shower,’ you mumble.

Jungkook’s gaze follows you all the way to the bathroom.

You’re stepping out of the shower, drying off, when there’s a knock.

‘Hey, angel, you ok?’ Jungkook asks.

You open the door a crack.

Jungkook’s eyes drop to your bare shoulder.

‘Teasing me?’ he asks.

You don’t understand.

Jungkook asks, ‘Can I come in?’

You step back, acutely aware of how bare you are under the damp towel.

Jungkook reaches out, runs a finger along the line of your collarbones.

‘Can I kiss you?’ he asks. His voice is low, there’s an undercurrent of something dangerous fizzing beneath the words.

You just know you’d like him to kiss you.

He can’t possibly expect you to say anything but yes, can he?

You smile up at him, and he reaches out.

‘Chin up,’ he says.

As you tilt your face up, he leans in and your lips meet.

Warmth.

His lips, firm but somehow also soft, part against yours.

You’re spinning, heart hammering in your chest as your lips meet again.

He’s leaning his head to one side so he can kiss you deeper.

When his tongue slips into your mouth you’re taken by surprise and you suck.

He groans against you, and as you feel the cool porcelain of the sink against your hip you realise he’s been walking you backwards.

His hand slips up between where the edge of the towel flaps open over your bare hip.

He kneads your skin, and you whine against his mouth.

He chuckles. ‘Needy?’

His voice is different, thick, words drawled in a lazy curl that reminds you of smoke.

His kisses are different now too, he’s plunging his tongue into your mouth in a rhythm that makes you moan helplessly in his arms.

The towel’s come undone, slipped down to drape over the sink.

Jungkook’s hand is cold as he cups one of your breasts.

‘You’re so soft,’ he says, rubbing his thumb over your exposed nipple.

You gasp, and your hips move against his.

Jungkook pulls away, leans his forehead against yours.

His breathing’s fast, shallow.

The hardness in his jeans presses against you, and you roll your hips against his again.

‘Easy, baby, easy,’ he says, reaching into his pocket. ‘I’ll give you what you want.’

You watch, thrilled but apprehensive, as he unzips his jeans and draws his hardened cock out.

‘Wanna put it on me?’ he asks, quirking his lips at you.

You wouldn’t know where to start but he seems to enjoy it when you touch him.

He bucks into your hand, swears against your ear.

‘I’m not gonna last if you tease me like that, baby,’ he groans.

He unrolls the rubber sheath over his cock, lifts your leg against his hip, and touches between your legs.

You cry out as his fingers explore. His thumb brushes the bud at the top of your sex, and you moan softly.

Then he’s bracing his hips against yours, entering you in a firm thrust that steals your breath.

You bite down on his shoulder to keep from crying.

He’s thick, and hard, and it hurts.

He’s moving fast, hips rocking against yours, and the pressure’s just starting to ease when he groans, deep in his chest, and grinds into you, his whole body shuddering.

His hands are still tight on your flesh, one hand pressing on your hip, the other cupping your ass.

‘Shit, did you get to —-‘

He stops dead when he sees your face, and for the first time tonight, his eyes flash with clarity.

‘Shit,’ he says, pulling himself out of you with a suddenness that makes you hiss between your teeth.

‘Shit, angel, are you ok?’

Your head’s spinning at the change.

‘Angel,’ he says, urgently now, tipping your face to his. ‘Did I hurt you?’

He’s deftly slipping off the condom, knotting it, tossing it. He braces a hand on the sink, does a double take when he sees the streak of blood.

‘Fuck, fuck,’ he swears. ‘That wasn’t your — have you done that before?’

His eyes are clearing now, his voice softening, turning into the quiet, easy, mild mannered Jungkook you know.

He picks up the towel, wraps it around your shoulders.

‘Get cleaned up, ok? I’m gonna get you a drink and we can talk ok?’

He’s talking fast, like he can’t wait to get away from you and whatever he saw in your expression.

You say, ‘Ok.’

He leaves, and you turn to look at your reflection in the sink.

You don’t look like anyone you recognise, least of all yourself.

***

You’re collecting an order from the kitchen to serve when your attention’s drawn to the door.

It opens and Jungkook walks in.

He looks tired, but he smiles when he sees you.

‘Is it near the end of your shift?’ he asks.

You glance at the clock, and nod.

‘I’ll stay, ok, and walk you back home?’ he asks.

Your shift ends in ten minutes but it seems like hours. There’s a nervous fluttering in your belly as you change into street clothes and bid goodbye to the kitchen.

Jungkook’s waiting by the streetlamp, bundled up in a coat and a beanie, breathing puffs of white.

Last night, after the bathroom, you’d fallen asleep in Jungkook’s bed before he’d returned, despite the thumping music. You’d woken to see him in bed next to you, facing you but not touching you.

Jungkook looks beautiful to you always, but more so when he’s asleep.

You’d woken up, slipped out of bed, and gone to work without waking him.

And now he’s beside you, walking you home in the cold.

You’re almost home before either of you speak.

‘Are you ok?’ he asks, as you round the corner onto your street.

‘I’m fine, Jungkook,’ you answer.

‘I was worried that I hurt you yesterday,’ he says.

There’s a mixture of emotions in his face, you think you can see guilt, concern. You focus on his aura instead, it’s bright and beautiful as it ever was.

He hurt you but he would never want to hurt you. You know this. You don’t doubt it.

‘I’m ok, Jungkook,’ you say, and he scoffs a little.

‘You’re too nice to me, angel.’

‘You’re the one who’s too nice,’ you reply. You nudge him in the ribs, and he flinches like you really hurt him, but there’s a smile curving his lips now.

‘I am too nice,’ he agrees. ‘That’s what everyone says about me.’

‘Is that what Hyeri said?’ you ask, innocently. ‘What about Iseul? Or Minju?’

‘Shut up,’ he says, rolling his eyes.

You’ve reached the front entrance of Jungkook’s building.

He reaches for the door, pauses with his hand on the handle.

‘I’m sorry I hurt you, angel.’

He glances at you.

You want to tell him he didn’t need to apologise to be forgiven, but you don’t know if he would understand how you see him.

‘It’s ok, Jungkook,’ you tell him. ‘I know you didn’t mean to.’

He pulls open the door, ushers you in out of the cold.

***

You’re playing a video game with Jungkook where you’re trying to select which character to be.

You’re frowning over the options when Jungkook, who’s already chosen an aggressive looking horned creature, turns to you.

‘You remind me of this one,’ he says, reaching for your controller, picking a character with a mushroom hat.

You’re indignant.

‘They’re very oddly shaped,’ you point out.

‘But cute,’ he returns.

You can’t help but laugh.

Jungkook leans over and kisses the tip of your nose so quickly you don’t realise until he’s settled back where he was.

You stare at him and he says, pulling his beanie down low over his brow, ‘Stop looking at me like that or I’ll kiss you again.’

You turn away quickly.

You sneak another glance at him and catch him looking at you, what looks like regret in his eyes.

‘I’m sorry,’ he tells you.

He’s apologised so many times since that night you’ve lost count.

You say, like you always do, ‘It’s ok, Jungkook.’

You turn back to the screen, and Jungkook hits play.

***

Jungkook’s quiet today, some days he doesn’t talk, just sits still like there’s a weight on him, stopping him from moving.

You’ve noticed that on days like this sometimes he doesn’t eat, either. Even rolling a joint seems like too much hard work.

You’ve worked out he doesn’t mind your company on days like this, doesn’t mind you going about your day around him.

You make him a mug of tea and place it next to him, put on the TV and start sketching.

You startle when he speaks.

His voice is raspy, like it hurts.

‘Tell me about what you miss,’ he says.

You’ll talk about anything if it helps him.

You put your sketchbook aside, and start talking.

When your own voice cracks, he passes you the cold tea.

He lays down, head in your lap, and you stroke his hair back from his face as you talk.

He cries himself to sleep.

You’re with him, but you know he’s facing his troubles alone.

***

Jungkook asks, ‘What did you get?’

You’d gone shopping after work today, picked up a couple things from a department store.

You say, ‘nothing.’

Jungkook raises an eyebrow. ‘Yeah? Nothing that you put in a bag?’

You shrug. ‘Why do you want to know?’

‘I didn’t, but now I do. Why won’t you tell me?’

He pretends to reach for the bag, and you tuck it behind your back.

‘It’s just underwear,’ you tell him.

You pour yourself a drink, drink it, put your glass in the sink, and turn around to see him staring at you.

‘What?’ you ask, embarrassed.

His voice comes out a higher pitch when he asks, ‘What kind of underwear?’

‘That’s private,’ you say, nodding sagely.

‘You’ve seen all my clothes,’ Jungkook points out.

‘Yeah even that weird harness,’ you say, and now Jungkook’s the one blushing.

‘It’s not a ——‘ he cuts himself off.

‘Can I see?’

‘Why do you want to?’

‘I don’t know why,’ he says. ‘I’m only torturing myself.’

You wonder what he means.

‘Hey, do you want to go out tonight?’ he asks, changing the subject.

‘Sure. Where?’

‘Taehyung’s got tickets to this gig downtown,’ Jungkook replies.

You don’t really know what a gig is but you like going places with Jungkook.

By the time he’s ready, you’ve almost fallen asleep on the sofa bed.

The way he looks makes you wake all the way.

His hair’s carelessly rumpled, silver glinting in his ears and lip. He’s dressed all in black, as is usual for him, in a shirt that’s loose enough to show his collarbones, sleeves short so you can see his tattoos.

He takes a long look at you in your short black dress, and you tug at the hem of your skirt self-consciously.

‘Do I look ok, for a gig?’ you ask.

‘You look pretty,’ he says. ‘Wait.’

He disappears back into his room, comes back with a delicate looking chain.

‘Here.’

You lift your hair out of the way so he can fasten the necklace around your neck. The flat silver disc pendant lands between your collarbones.

Jungkook presses his thumb over it, and your breath quickens.

‘Sometimes these gigs can be a little crowded,’ Jungkook says. ‘If we get separated, just wait near the bar for me, ok?’

‘Sure,’ you say. Your voice comes out a little high, driven by his proximity, the way his fingers are still draped loosely on your shoulder.

Jungkook puts on his jacket, helps you with yours. His silver rings tap against the light switch as he turns out the lights.

***

You’re not sure what you think about the band playing at this gig, but Jungkook and his friends are fun.

Taehyung, dressed in red sequins and black leather, buys you a drink that tastes so good you’ve drunk most of it before you realise that it’s also making your head spin.

You’re ok, though, you feel great with the way Jungkook’s got you tucked into his side, so close that his belt’s pressed against your back.

He doesn’t touch you often, hasn’t touched you much since that time in his bathroom, so you’re not sure why he’s touching you so much tonight.

You like it. It occurs to you that you can touch him too.

You slide an arm around his hips, under his jacket, and he leans down, breath tickling your ear.

‘I like that,’ he tells you, gaze hot as he looks down the neck of your dress.

‘I like it too,’ you tell him.

There’s a steady heat building in you, warming your cheeks and ears, and you feel an urge to press your lips to his skin.

‘Do you know what you’re doing, angel?’ Jungkook asks softly.

His words, gently spoken, cut through your lust fuelled haze.

What are you doing?

Jungkook’s helped you with everything since you fell, taken you in, fed you, clothed you, treated you with a kindness you didn’t earn.

You don’t even know what you have to offer him in return, apart from holding him on his down days, telling him stories about a realm you remember less and less each day.

He could sleep with any girl in this place, if he wanted.

Feeling cold all over, you let go of him.

‘I need the bathroom,’ you mumble.

You force a smile, turn away, search for the distinctive signs.

You splash water on your face, stare at yourself in the grimy sink, and think about your existence now.

Tears fill your eyes, threaten to fall, but you blink them back.

You want to think but the walls swirl a little even when you’re completely still.

You sigh and leave the bathroom, look around for Jungkook and his friends.

There’s a familiar voice, you turn and smile automatically before you realise it’s not Jungkook.

It’s Cham, your boss from your diner job.

He smiles at you, friendly. ‘Hey, you ok?’

‘I’m good,’ you say, letting him pull you into a hug.

He kisses your cheek in greeting, pulls away but stays close.

‘You here with friends?’ he asks.

‘Yeah,’ you say. The room’s still swirling, but your legs seem steady enough.

‘Come meet my friends,’ he says.

Cham takes your arm, lets you lean on him as he leads you.

The band’s started up again, the steady drumbeat throbbing through your head as you follow Cham.

‘Hey, where are you going?’

Jungkook’s voice.

You can’t stop the way your whole body relaxes when you turn and see Jungkook.

Something in your expression makes him frown.

‘Angel?’

You pull away from Cham, step closer to Jungkook.

‘This is Cham, from the diner,’ you say, so relieved to see Jungkook you could cry again.

‘This is Jungkook,’ you say, turning to Cham.

‘You guys together?’ Cham asks.

Jungkook’s face hardens a bit. ‘Yeah. We’re together.’

‘I’ll see you at work, then, Sky.’

Cham disappears through the throng of people before you can say goodbye.

‘Where were you going with him?’ Jungkook asks.

‘He wanted me to meet his friends,’ you tell him.

Jungkook looks exasperated. ‘Did you even want to meet his friends? It didn’t seem like you did.’

You can’t deny it.

Jungkook sighs. ‘You should’ve just told him you were here with your boyfriend.’

You aren’t keeping up.

‘My boyfriend?’

‘Yeah, me, Taehyung, Namjoon. You could have told him any one of us was your boyfriend.’

Jungkook watches realisation dawn on your face.

‘You can say ‘no’, angel. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.’

Now you feel naive, silly, inexperienced.

Tears threaten to spill again.

Jungkook sighs. ‘Come on, let’s go home.’

***

You’ve never made pancakes before but you figure this is a special occasion.

By the time Jungkook enters the kitchen, lured by the smell of pancakes and coffee, you’ve set out two plates and arranged the food on the tiny kitchen island.

He yawns, hair half sticking up, half matted to his face, crease marks on his temple.

‘I made pancakes!’ you chirp, too excited to remember he’s never been a morning person.

Jungkook blinks at you, lips tugging into a smile. ‘What’s the occasion?’

‘I signed the lease on that studio,’ you announce.

At the surprised look on his face, you hasten to add, ‘Namjoon read through it with me.’

Jungkook takes the plate you offer him.

‘I didn’t want to bother you, you’ve been busy, right?’

Jungkook seems to realise you’re waiting for a response.

‘Yeah. It’s great that you signed. When do you move out?’

‘In two weeks,’ you tell him. You hesitate. ‘It’ll be good for me to be out of your hair.’

‘Yeah,’ Jungkook agrees. ‘You need your own place.’

He smiles at you fully for the first time. ‘Congratulations, angel.’

‘I’m going to miss you,’ you say.

The words come out, hang in the air between you.

Jungkook says, ‘I’ve kind of got used to you hanging around. Especially if you can make pancakes like this.’

‘You can come over for pancakes when I move in,’ you say brightly.

Jungkook smiles but doesn’t say anything.

***

Jungkook finishes the last of his dinner, sets his cutlery down.

The popping reverberating through your window suddenly makes you jump in alarm.

There’s a shower of pinks and purples streaking through the dark.

You’re amazed, rushing over to the window. ‘What’s that?’

You turn to Jungkook to find he’s joined you at the window.

‘It’s fireworks, angel, haven’t you seen them before?’

You startle again at the series of cracks and pops, step back into Jungkook’s chest.

He leans down, close, says, ‘They’re not going to hurt you. Want to go outside and take a look?’

You grab your coats, shove your feet into your sneakers, and head out with Jungkook.

Jungkook takes you up through the street of nightclubs and bars, to a spot high up where he says you’ll be able to see better.

‘Here,’ he says, stopping by a walkway that crosses two dual carriageways.

You’re distracted by the cars speeding by under your feet, so he touches your cheek.

‘Look up, angel.’

He rests his forearms on the railing, the press of his upper arm reassuring against yours as the pops and cracks start again, amplified now that you’re out in the open.

You laugh as the night sky lights up in colour. ‘They’re beautiful!’ you exclaim, turning to Jungkook.

Jungkook’s looking up at the sky, smiling himself, the fireworks casting him in purple and red.

He’s beautiful too, and you feel a surge of longing for him so acute you realise you’re holding your breath.

Jungkook glances over at you. His lips part as though he’s going to say something, probably to tease you and remind you to look up.

You’re not expecting him to lean over and kiss you, but that’s exactly what he does.

His lips are sweet, and warm. He closes his eyes, tilts his head to kiss you deeper. His hand slides into the small of your back, under your jacket, steadying you when you grasp at his upper arms.

Your eyes are still closed when he pulls away and rests his forehead against yours.

‘I’m glad I met you, angel,’ he says.

You open your eyes, but he’s kissing you again, soft and sweet, sending heat and electricity through your veins, and you find that whatever you had to say falls away.

***

Jungkook’s palm is cool against yours as you hold his hand on the walk back home.

‘Ouch,’ he complains, ‘you’re hurting my hand.’

You loosen your grip before you realise he’s just teasing you again.

Jungkook laughs. ‘You can’t believe everything you hear, angel, especially when I’m not around all the time.’

His words make you feel a pang of sadness.

‘I’ll still see you even after I’ve moved out, won’t I?’ you ask, tentative.

‘Maybe,’ Jungkook says.

You’re thinking about this when he laughs again and taps under your chin.

‘Of course we’ll see each other, you don’t have any other friends after all.’

Somehow that doesn’t make you feel any better.

Jungkook stiffens suddenly, drops your hand as you approach his apartment.

You follow his gaze curiously.

A smartly dressed older man and woman are standing outside his door.

Jungkook greets them both with hugs and a smile, but there’s a tension in his shoulders that you’ve never seen before.

The couple look at you curiously, and Jungkook says, voice neutral, ‘These are my parents, angel. Abeoji, eomeoni, this is my friend, Angel.’

Jungkook’s parents greet you politely but you can feel Jungkook’s discomfort rising.

You’ve seen plenty of human interactions in your short time in this realm, and there’s a dynamic here that you can’t unpick, apart from to know that Jungkook’s upset.

You reach out, touch his arm. ‘Namjoon wanted to meet up and talk about my lease, I should go and meet him,’ you say.

You don’t know if it’s your touch or your words, but he calms visibly.

‘I’ll call you when I’m free?’ he suggests.

‘Sure,’ you say, smiling.

You nod politely at Jungkook’s parents and leave them to it.

***

Your phone never rings that night at Namjoon’s because Jungkook comes to pick you up.

He looks tense, tired, as you open the door, but he smiles when he sees you.

‘Are you ok, Jungkook?’ you ask.

You step into his embrace so naturally it feels like puzzle pieces locking into place.

Jungkook leans into you, buries his face in your hair.

‘Better now,’ he mumbles, muffled. ‘Let’s go home.’

Back at his apartment he tugs off his jacket, hangs it up, kicking his shoes off.

You’re already setting up your bed on the couch when he comes out, in the soft t-shirt he sleeps in, hair rumpled.

He’s washed his face, and he looks oddly young like this.

‘Want to watch TV?’ you ask, moving over, making room for him.

He sits next to you, hand landing on yours. Before he can pull away, you reach out and knit your fingers with his.

He’s hurting, you don’t know why but you’ve always been able to see it.

Jungkook leans into you, head on your shoulder, face in your neck. Up close like this, his shoulders are too broad for you to get your arms around, so you cup his cheek instead.

‘What am I going to do without you?’ he mumbles into your skin.

You’re not sure you’ve heard correctly but you don’t think it matters.

When he lifts his face to yours, you kiss him.

He’s gentle, lips against yours with a tenderness that makes your skin light up.

He keeps his eyes closed, so you close yours too, draw him closer to you as you kiss.

He’s heating you from the outside in, making your skin heat, your blood thrum in your veins as his lips and hands mould to the shape of you.

The weight of him presses you into the couch but it’s not more than you can bear.

His hips fit in between your thighs, and you can feel his hardness over your centre.

You murmur his name, and he groans.

‘I don’t want to hurt you, angel,’ he says.

‘I know,’ you say, and you do know it, with his chest pressed against yours like this, the feel of his heart pounding under your hands as you touch him.

When he undoes his jeans, you’re ready.

His eyes are open now, intent on your face as he nudges into you, slow.

‘More,’ you say, and he groans again, pushes in until you’re hip to hip, chest to chest, his mouth on yours, swallowing your cries as he moves.

You’re curled around him like he’s curled around you, rocking into you, setting the pace.

Inside you the pleasure ramps up so quickly you’re breathless, gasping his name.

‘I’ll get us there, angel,’ he promises, mouth near your ear now, lifting your thigh to his hip, changing the angle of his thrusts, driving you higher and higher with every movement.

You wrap your arms around him, hands over the muscles of his back flexing as he moves strongly inside you.

‘Jungkook?’ you cry.

‘Yeah,’ he says. ‘I’ve got you.’

You cry his name again as your pleasure crystallises, and he keeps going, pulling more pleasure out of you even as you’re pulsing around him.

He’s panting now, hips circling, slowing down, spilling warmth inside you, pulling you closer, tight against him as he comes.

He pulls your duvet up over the both of you, cocooning you both under its warmth.

‘Let’s stay here,’ he says. ‘Stay with me.’

So you do.

***

It’s been two weeks since you moved into your own place, started building your own life, without Jungkook.

You’re thinking of him this morning when you wake up. It’s cold outside, you can see grey and snow, bare trees in the park outside your window.

You wonder whether he’s awake yet. He never used to wake up this early but lately he’d been joining you for breakfast.

There’s a knock at your door and somehow you know it’s him.

You’re already smiling when you open it.

He’s smiling too, wrapped in a huge puffy jacket, flushed from the cold.

He takes in your pyjamas, raises a brow.

‘I wondered where those were,’ he says, but he’s smiling so hard you know he doesn’t mind.

His aura shines, bright and beautiful as ever.

Blinding.

‘I brought pancakes,’ he says, holding up the brown paper bag he came with.

‘What’s the occasion?’ you ask.

‘It’s Christmas,’ he says. ‘And I missed you.’

You reach out and take his hand.

His lips brush your cheek sweetly.

You let him in.

#bangtan christmas #bangtan christmas 2023 #jungkook fic #bts smut #jungkook smut

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cookiqueen13 · 9 months

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Headcanons and details I noticed in Trolls!

Rest of the post under read more cause it’s kinda long⬇️

TROLL ANATOMY

Troll tongues are the same/a similar color to their noses. Their gums and mouths are similar colors to their skin. On a morbid note, this means there’s a possibility that whatever internal organs they have are also colorful.

Trolls have sparkly/rainbow blood. This is probably just a gag/censorship joke but it isn’t a far-fetched idea.

POWERS/SPECIAL ABILITIES

Trolls can use music as a force. In Trolls 3, they use the Family Harmony to break the diamond. In Trolls 2, the Rock trolls can destroy things and hurt people with their music. Queen Essence seems to create a wave/boom using a tuba. Chaz uses his Jazz to hypnotize people and make them hallucinate. Trolls may also have the ability to use music to fight. In a deleted scene from Trolls 2, the Classical trolls and Rock trolls fight using their instruments and voices. In another deleted scene, the Yodelers cause a building to fall apart by yodeling.

Trolls have special adaptations to their specific kingdoms. Rock trolls are heat resistant to combat the fact they live in a VOLCANO. Techno trolls have fins and glow to become more visible in dark water. Country trolls are tough, built for long distance running and work. Pop trolls have advanced hair manipulation to navigate and hide in trees. Classical trolls have wings to safely travel in the mountains/clouds. And idk about Funk trolls💀 But Sub-genres are probably adaptable to most situations.

TROLL REPRODUCTION

Trolls can reproduce sexually and asexually. When 2 different trolls reproduce, the resulting offspring will share traits from both parents. Asexual reproduction results in offspring that have extremely similar traits to the parent or a total clone. Both female and male trolls can produce and incubate eggs. Reproduction can happen from physical contact😏 AND/OR extreme feelings of love/connection. The extreme feeling can be for a partner or just a feeling in general. This would explain how Bruce and Brandy were able to hybridize so well despite being different sizes and species. Guy Diamond mentions how he, “Didn’t know his heart could be so full.” I interpret this as Tiny Diamond coming from the love inside his father’s heart.

EFFECT ON OTHERS

Different trolls have different tastes and effects. As we know, Pop trolls, (when eaten), make the user very happy. But what do they taste like? I imagine they would be overwhelmingly sweet, like candy or cake fondant. Rock trolls would have a spice or bitterness to them and give the user a feeling of aggressiveness or hype. (Kinda like steroids💀). Classical trolls would be buttery and sweet and make the user feel satisfaction or bliss. Techno trolls would taste sweet and sour/citrusy and give the user a major energy boost/sugar rush. Country trolls would taste savory or smoky like BBQ or a home-cooked meal, giving the user a feeling of coziness or nostalgia. Funk trolls would have a mainly tangy/sweet flavor with an underlying spice. The user would feel a general feeling of liveliness or fun.

Trolls 3 introduces more exploitation of trolls in the form of talent stealing. Velvet and Veneer use Floyd to sing Pop music. I imagine that using a troll of a different genre gives the user talent and musical ability in that trolls genre.

#trolls #dreamworks trolls #trolls band together #trolls world tour #trolls headcanons #world building #headcanon #speculation #theory

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whalesforhands · 10 months

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the gojo-geto household’s playtime!

“Would you like another cup of tea, Mr. King?”Nanako’s voice is pitched far too high, an attempt to act a flair of elegance to her words as crumbs of the cookies Tsumiki had baked linger by her lips.

“Oh, with pleasure, Princess Of Green Bunnies.” You watch with amusement as Suguru tips his cup down towards the girl, trying his best to move his admittedly larger frame around without knocking anything over. Your hands gently wiping Nanako’s face when she leans in closer towards you momentarily.

“Mama—“ She coughs, sputtering in her next words. “Mrs. Queen! I am perfectly fine!” She’s whining up at you as you only silently pat her head.

“Can we eat now?” Megumi— No, Prince of The Animal Kingdom, impatiently drums his fingers against the plastic table, staring down at the potato chips and corn snacks before him. Tsumiki tuts, lightly smacking her little brother’s hand. “That’s rude, Prince! We have to wait for the Princess of Stitches to give us the signal.”

Mimiko nods. “Thank you, Princess of Strawberries…” A shy tilt of her head towards her plushie before she clanks her plastic spoon against the plastic teacup.

“Ah! Mimi has an announcement!”

“I wanna eat…”

“Gumi, be patient.” A ruffle of his hair from the long-haired man to sate him.

“I want to thank you all for coming…”

There’s a trudge, before from within the large pile of pillows and blankets, emerged the domineering figure of he who cannot be exorcised, he who rises from the dead, he who kidnaps children and swallows them whole!

The Banished Demon King Who Rules Over the Banished Bad Guys!

(Also known as simply, in Megumi’s complaints of the too long title, The Demon King.)

Gojo Satoru’s boisterous laugh is heard as he uses his tall frame to tower over the tea party, the gasps of shock and horror music to his ears. “My, my! A wonderful tea party!” With a rude step forward, he plants his foot upon the play table, albeit with a bit of care as to not rattle it too much, ego and confidence radiating off of him.

“But it seems my invite got lost via the carrier pigeon!” He places a melodramatic hand to his forehead. “You tiny lot wouldn’t be so cruel to not invite me, would ya?” The glitter upon his paper crown glints underneath the lights as his eyes search the puffed up faces of his daughters and uninterested one of his son.

“You were never invited, cruel monster!” Several plastic utensils are thrown at him as he deflects them with his ‘evil magic’. (He turned Infinity on momentarily before turning it off again.)

You only watch with a pleasant smile next to Suguru, just happy to be a part of this whilst lightly clapping along. Geto’s stare moves to watch you, lips quirking up at the sight of you. He chuckles when he spots a bored Megumi at your other side, sneaking bites of the snacks now that the girls were distracted.

(Megumi wanted to play his console, but everyone voted for this first, so he did too, to the twins and Tsumiki’s delight.)

Satoru’s blanket that acted as his all-menacing cape is unwrapped from around him as three gazes of unwavering determination face him. “I see…” A glint from those sunglasses hiding the ever mischievous pair of blue. “Then I suppose a kidnapping is in order to placate my evil desires! WAHAHAH!”

You don’t even have time to react before you’re scooped up into a pair of arms, the half-eaten biscuit still in your hand as you’re thrown over your husband’s shoulder, his long legs carrying you away and out the door into the living room, cackling all the way as you begin to put on airs.

(This was not in the script.)

“Oh no~!” You let out a gasp for dramatic effect as you’re carried further and further away. “I’m being kidnapped by the evil king! Save me!” The smile on your face completely going against your words, finding it hard to get into character.

“Our Queen has been kidnapped by the evil curse! Oh no!” Nanako raises a foam sword as Tsumiki fixes the ribbons in Geto’s hair. “Quick, we must have an emergency meeting plan to save her!”

——

Gojo settles you down gently on the nearby couch, humming lightly as he sneaks a kiss from your lonely-looking lips. “Gotta play it up a bit, honey. You don’t mind, right?” His once discarded blanket is now upon your shoulders, lightly and messily knotting it to act as ‘binds’. “And so you won’t get cold.”

“How sweet of a Demon King.” You lean forwards to peck his forehead, swooning at him as starry blue eyes meet yours, nuzzling his face against you with a grin on his face.

“Special treatment for my loveliest Queen, of course—“

“Halt right there, evil doer!” Tsumiki has taken charge of the party. “You haven’t won yet, since you forgot our secret weapon!”

“Papa!” Nanako and Mimiko push forward a very compliant Suguru, his hands raised as the sparkly ribbons and bows in his hair attract the demon king’s attention.

“Hello~” Geto only simply waves with a smile on his face.

“Evilllllll BLAST!” His fingers glow red before immediately flickering out, Geto taking the ‘hit’, clutching his heart as he makes a show of stumbling around, before dropping to the ground conveniently right next to you.

“He defeated the King! He’s too strong!” Nanako is gasping in defeat for her siblings, falling to her knees as she acts troubled.

“This curse has more plans!! I eat children who don’t give their daddies enough love today!!!” Gojo gives a sneaky pat to the prone Geto on the ground next to you before he turns to face his defeat.

“Order of Sorcerers! Plan B!”

“RAHHhh- Ow! Hey!” He’s getting pelted by an onslaught of toy bullets as an arm is held up in front of him to defend himself, stray bullets bounce against his face and off of his sunglasses, falling to his knees as he’s sniped from a distance.

Megumi.

Mimiko rings the bell in signal as Tsumiki hands out the next orders. “Megumi has temporarily stunned the monster!” A thrust of her sword upwards towards the ceiling. “All troops! CHARGGEEE!”

“Since when did princes use guns?!” Satoru is adamantly taken aback, holding both hands in the air in surrender as the twins held his legs down in place, Megumi pointing the toy gun menacingly at him as Tsumiki held a pillow up over her head in victory.

“Admit defeat and set our Queen free, monster!”

And they descended upon the poor man like ants to a fallen ice cream scoop, running at him as they poked him with their foam swords, bludgeoned his face with pillows, as he squealed, simply letting himself get overwhelmed and laying in defeat as he continues to get pummeled.

They’re distracted. This is your chance.

“Are you tired?” Your voice is gentle as your head hovers above his, looking down into his lovely copper-amethyst gaze as black ribbons of his hair splay out against the carpeted floor.

He really does look like something out of a fairytale. You’re surprised he wasn’t asked to play a princess.

“My back is a little sore...” Well, hunching over a tiny plastic chair all day isn’t very healthy. “But I’m mostly fine, dear.” He makes it a point to keep his already soothing voice low, tinged with gentle reassurance and eyes blinking slowly up at you.

(He still has the very important role of keeping the roleplay alive, after all.)

“And how is my gorgeous Queen doing?” The act is temporarily dropped when a hand reaches up to cup your cheek, grazing over the skin as his stare holds your own, the background noises fading into nothing as he takes this moment entirely for himself.

“Kiss me?” A plead that you can’t deny.

You relent, a lean downwards that allows you to press a kiss to the man’s forehead, easing his stress and begetting the softness of his eyes, before pulling away.

“Mm. Good… But I prefer somewhere else…”

A loud crash.

“The monster has fallen!” Nanako arises victorious, socked feet standing upon Satoru’s prone body, heels digging into his chest whilst her twin sat upon his stomach as he feigns death on the ground, Tsumiki patting the defeated man’s arm and Megumi poking his face with a stray bullet as the grown man fights to keep the ‘dead’ act as a smile is a laugh away from twitching onto his face.

masterlist

Notes:

“Daddy! You can’t put the word ‘evil’ in front of everything and call it a day!” Mimiko has a small pout on her face as she looks up at the light-haired man, star-shapes carrots on her fork as she regards the figure with a narrowed stare.

You and Suguru both had to console the defeated demon king quite a bit, despite the fact that he had voluntarily taken up this role.

Gojo regrets buying those toy guns. They actually hurt quite a bit.

nvy’s aftertalk:

sorry guys i was playing minecraft and studying lol

#dyf au #jjk x reader #gojo satoru x reader #geto suguru x reader #satosugu x reader #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff

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