#imminent-danger-came | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

spatialwave · 2 months ago

Text

LEAVE ME TO DREAM

➸ pairing: arcane survivor!jayce talis x fem!reader ➸ word count: 1.5k ➸ tags: mdni! porn with plot, angst, hurt/comfort, grief/loss, depression, sad ending, rough sex, choking, sorta-dubcon. ➸ notes: wow this was a lot more depressing than i intended it to be lol. my apologies. i rewatched yesterday and felt so much emotion for arcane survivor jayce and wrote whatever came to mind! i hope you like it 🥹

Months had passed, months without Jayce. You remember the days clearly back then, he had been avoiding you – spending hours and hours in his lab after Viktor left. It was fine, you learned to manage seeing him only when he wanted. You told yourself it was fine

It wasn’t, but you managed.

Then he disappeared, as though he vanished out of thin air. Everyone you spoke to brushed you off, no one in the council would even look in your direction. Ambessa made it impossible.

You were a mess, alone in your apartment for weeks. Months.

There were days when you wanted to give up because what was life like without Jayce? There was no life with lost love, it was so painful that your stomach twisted in pain every waking hour. You’d begun to grieve, losing yourself to the idea that he’d never return. That his body had become one with the earth where he might lay dead.

It was late afternoon, your body curled into the blankets, naked and basking in the sun that pooled through the window. You had been in and out of sleep all day, tossing and turning. Having managed to shower, but nothing else but crawl back into your safety and remain there.

You dreamt of Jayce, like you always had. Memories flooded your mind, tears settling in the outer corners of your eyes.

Sleep was taking you over, eyes fluttering when the door to the apartment slammed open. You jolted up, hands grabbing at the blankets that you wrapped around your body haphazardly.

“Who’s there?” You shouted through a shaky voice, adrenaline coursing through your veins. Your bare feet padded along the wooden floorboards, heavy as you stomped toward imminent danger with nothing to lose, “My fiancé will be back any second,” you lied, baring your teeth as you turn the corner into the main area of your quaint apartment.

That’s when you gasped, the sound mixed with a strangled scream. Shaky hands covered your mouth.

“Jayce?” You croaked, “Oh my gods, Jayce.”

You weren’t permitted time to greet him, nor comment on the way he appeared. Rugged, a beard and hair that hung over his ears.

The door slammed behind him and the hextech hammer dropped to the ground with a thud heavy enough that the wood cracked beneath. He stepped toward you, earning another gasp as you were pushed against the kitchen table.

“Jayce,” your voice full of worry, fingers touching a beard you’d never seen on him before, “where have you–”

Lips crashed to yours, tongue forcing its way past your lips. You moaned, abiding by his movements as the blanket fell from your body, and you sat atop the table, thighs tight around his hips. Arms snaked around his neck, fingers tangling into his shaggy hair and tugging harshly as emotions flooded you. Tears streamed down your cheeks, dripping down your neck as you whined into his mouth.

“Can we talk?” You forced yourself back, chest heaving with heavy breaths as you looked into his eyes. All you could see was pain and loss, fear – anger. Wherever he was, he had been tormented, left him a shell of a man, “Jayce, please–”

He blinked hard, twitching as if to blink a vision away.

“No,” he growled, face burying against your neck as he sucked and bit with his scarred lips, rough hands groping at your naked hips hard enough you tried to squirm away.

“Stop,” you whined, your body reacting to his touch as your wet cunt rolled against the erection hidden under his slacks, but you yearned for more than this. You had questions that burned your mind, a need to heal whatever hurt him. To tell him that you missed him and loved him, that you were scared he’d been dead.

Your mind was blurry, heart pounding with a flurry of emotions as you tilted your head back and cried out.

“Just… be quiet,” he hissed, biting hard against your neck and causing you to yelp, “please,” he begged against your skin, tongue licking at the bruise that had formed over your skin.

You shuddered, lips quivering as you felt his hands grab at your body with fervor. You obliged, your heart knowing that this was a need. A distraction, perhaps, and you decided to welcome it wholly.

Jayce was back, that’s all that mattered. You had him. You could manage.

The man who was once tender with his touches was no longer here. His hands handled you with a sharp edge, leaving lasting redness and bruises in its wake, wrapped around your neck as you whimpered and tried to cry out in pleasure, but you couldn’t make a sound as his fingers pressed against the sides of your windpipe.

You were hastily pushed back on the kitchen table, dishes, papers and clutter pushed to the floor as Jayce fucked you with little remorse for your own needs. Your body had missed his touch, legs spread apart as his cock left a searing pain deep inside you and his teeth pinched your nipples.

With parted lips, all you could offer was a pitiful attempt at a whimper, eyes fluttering as he stared down at you – eyes full of rage. Lust and love were nowhere to be seen as he shoved two fingers between your lips, forcing your sounds to cease. You sucked as best as you could, offering the little energy you had to spare as your body shook beneath him.

The legs of the table creaking so loudly you were certain that it would break, the wood shaking and squeaking as it scraped against the flooring

Jayce’s breaths were ragged and heavy, moans choking in his throat as his cock fucked you in a tireless pace and he stared down at the way your breasts bounced with each hard snap of his hips. Your heels dug into the small of his back, thighs squeezing as the walls of your pussy clenched around him, silently begging for more.

He pulled his fingers from your mouth, and you gasped for air, the hand around your throat moving to massage your tits, instead pinching at your nipples hard enough that you squealed. You caught your breath and your eyes rolled into the back of your head. It was an incessant amount of pleasure and touch, leaving your body weak and near-limp.

Tears stung your eyes again, and you lifted a tired arm so your delicate hand caressed his bearded jaw. A gentle touch you had longed for since he stormed through the doors a different man that you’d seen him last.

“I… missed you,” you croaked between his unabating thrusts, whimpering voice catching in your throat with each deep send of his hips.

Jayce cringed back from your touch, flinching and twitching like he had before. His hands moved to your hips, stiffening his body and yours as he stared down at you with widened eyes and a newfound expression, as though clarity struck.

For a moment, his eyes flickered. There he was — your Jayce.

“Jayce,” you urged, moving to sit up as your hands rested on his cheeks, “please. Talk to me. I need you.”

His golden eyes grew damp, pupils dilating until they were blown out.

“I’m sorry,” the words croaked from trembling lips as the tears spilled down his cheeks. Emotions took over as he wailed out a sob, arms wrapping around your shoulders as he pulled you into a tight hug, face pressed into the side of your head, “I’m so sorry… sorry.”

You looked at the wall beyond him, your chin over his shoulder, as you listened to his cries and sobs. Your hands pressed against his back, soft and comforting.

He continued to mumble out apologies as you felt his tears stain against your skin.

Under your breath, you shushed him, hand gliding up and down his spine as you allowed him the space to feel. To exist without any negative repercussions, to live through whatever traumas he’d experienced while he was away.

The questions burned deep in your mind, but you bit back the curiosity. Your patience was thoroughly tested, but you could do this for him. You held your lover close and prayed to whatever god that would listen to keep him safe and in your arms. To keep him in your shared apartment, that he wouldn’t leave like he had.

“I love you,” he whimpered, nails clawing down your back and leaving reddened welts behind, “I’m sorry–”

You opened your eyes as he jerked back, watching in fear as he hurriedly put his clothes back on and grabbed the hammer. He was all over the place, leaving you unable to pin down the thoughts racing through his head, “I… I have to take care of it.”

“Take care of what? Jayce? Jayce!” You called out, scrambling to your feet as you chased after him, but your fiancé had already slammed the door in your face.

You whimpered, leaning against the door with your palms flat against the wood. Then you cried and cried for hours – begging that it had only been a bad dream. That the touches and bruises that lingered on your body would disappear much like he had.

You weren’t certain that you could manage any longer. Everything was a mess.

#jayce talis #jayce talis x reader #jayce talis fic #jayce talis x you #arcane fic #jayce talis arcane #arcane #arcane x you #arcane x reader #wordsbyspatial

471 notes · View notes

agreeeeeeeeeee · 1 month ago

Text

What's My Name? - R.B.

Bully!Regulus Black x fem!reader

summary: you’ve befriended the emeralds and few other Slytherin’s. Regulus is drawn to you like a magnet, but knows you have no business associating with them or their families, so he tries to scare you off. It backfires spectacularly.

cw: MDNI 18+ Regulus tries to white fang you. degradation, bullying, toxic relationships and friend groups, future death-eaters, trauma, Black Family Angst, choking, dry-humping, p in v sex

an: Ik everyone has a different marauders!era slytherin group, so here’s a quick breakdown of my personal headcanon:

Inner circle: Regulus Black, Evan Rosier, Barty Crouch Jr., Pandora, and Dorcas Meadowes (the emeralds)

Outer circle: Severus Snape, Avery, Mulciber, Emma Vanity, Charity Burbage, Aurora Sinistra, and Wilkes.

Circle-adjacent: Lily Evans, Marlene McKinnon, and the Marauders

There is also the much darker group with Rabastan Lestrange, Thorfinn Rowle, and the Carrow’s, who actively prey on some of the others for Voldemort’s Cause.

────────────────────────

No matter how hard Regulus tried, you refused to leave his orbit. You had no business affiliating with him and his friends, and had no idea what that affiliation truly meant. It meant darkness. It meant bloodshed. It met imminent and very real danger. A war was brewing right under your nose.

Regulus had been born and bred for this, as had most of his friends, but you…you were an innocent. Intelligent, witty, trusting. As much as he tried not to care, he couldn’t stand to watch your light be snuffed out for simply existing around them: metaphorically or literally.

But no matter how many times Regulus tried to run you off, spare you from what came next, you would not heed. In fact, you seemed to take his animosity as a challenge, leaving him in the predicament of being your unwitting adversary.

You were in the Slytherin common room now, curled up by the fireplace with Pandora, Evan, Barty and a few others, doing more gossiping than studying despite the piles of books and parchment on the floor around you. The greenish light of the lake contrasted with the glow of the fire against your face, creating an otherworldly halo around you.

You hair was pulled back, revealing the slender curve of your neck, the dip in your v-neck sweater where a silver pendant rested against your clavicle.

You laughed at whatever terrible joke Barty made and Regulus rolled his eyes, turning back to the spell book in his lap. He was studying alone, having told Evan a number of times to fuck off and let him work on his assignments in peace.

“Regulus!” Emma called suddenly, and he cringed, pretending he didn't hear his Quidditch captain. “Reg!” She called again.

He closed his eyes, willing them all to disappear.

“Regulus fucking Black!” She hollered, loud enough for the whole common room to fall silent.

He clapped his book shut and stalked over to where you all were sitting, one hand in his trouser pocket, the other clamped on his book.

“Yes?” He droned, leaning against the arm chair Emma was sitting in.

“Can you help me with this?” Emma asked, holding up her Defense Against the Dark Arts homework.

Annoyance prickled along his skin. “What good is a genius pet if she doesn't help with your work?” He asked, leveling you with his coldest stare.

You tilted your head, eyes flicking from his black, curly hair to his leather shoes, and didn't respond.

“She said she wouldn't help me,” Emma pouted.

“I said I wouldn't do it for you,” you corrected.

“Barty, then?”

“No can do, Reg,” Barty responded, coughing up a lungful of pungent smoke, waggling a joint in Regulus’ direction.

Emma waved the smoke from her face. “Will you help, Reg? I have to get a good grade in the class or I could lose my spot on the team. And you know these lot are useless at spells.”

He sighed and took the assignment from her hands, flipping through the pages. It was rudimentary work, things she really should know in order to defend herself.

“Can't help you,” Regulus said, handing it back to her. “If you can't do this, maybe you should be demoted.”

The group ooooh’d at his dig.

“Reg!” Emma whined.

“Ignore him, Em. Not everyone takes to dark magic as easily as the ancient and most bitchy house of Black,” you quipped, narrowing your eyes at him.

Regulus resisted the urge to clench his jaw, feigning the nonchalance you wore like a second skin. The group swiveled to look at him.

“All magic, really. But thank you, darling,” he purred, winking at you.

“You should have seen Sirius in advanced Transfiguration last semester, he's a natural. Truly a gifted wizard,” you continued.

“Hot as fuck, too,” Evan added, just to dig the knife in a little deeper.

Regulus’ blood began to simmer, his temperature rising beneath his dark robes. He tsked under his breath, shaking his head. “I thought you'd be smart enough to not fall for his clown act.” He shrugged a shoulder. “Evidently not.”

“I wouldn't touch a Black with a twenty foot pole,” you replied, leaning back on your hands, stretching your long legs out in front of you, your skirt sitting high on your thighs.

“Who said anything about a pole?” Regulus replied, mimicking your condescending head tilt.

The group snickered, watching your verbal sparring like it was a duel.

“You sound a bit jealous, Reggie. Need a little attention?”

Reggie. His mask nearly slipped, he was so caught off guard by the nickname on your sharp tongue. “May as well, since you give it out so freely.” He glanced down at your shapely legs, punctuating his point.

Your head fell back as you laughed, your chest pressing up and tits bouncing, and he felt an irritating kick in his trouser as the heat of his anger took a new, sinful shape.

“It's the 70’s, love. Are you still so prudish?” You lifted your head, pining him with eyes fierce enough to cleave him in half.

He smirked. “Far from it. Just selective.”

“Don't see much of a selection to chose from,” you chuckled, earning another spike of laughter from the group. “What I see is a spoiled youngest son with nothing better to do than needle the people around him to fill the hole in his chest.” You got to your feet, shouldering your bag.

Regulus felt like he'd been punched clean through the sternum, your words never failing to cut to the quik.

“Spoken by a girl with nothing better to do than fish for a rich husband that might save her from her home in the gutter. Trust me, nothing can fill the hole of inadequacy, y/l/n.”

You stepped over Evan and Barty's tangled limbs and left without another word, leaving Regulus’ cruelty to echo off the glass and stone, the group silent.

Regulus turned on his heel and disappeared into the boys dormitory, guilt dogging every step.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

The Quidditch match was in full swing, Gryffindor versus Slytherin, and the score was neck and neck. It was up to Regulus and the Gryffindor Seeker now, since neither team could get a leg up through the rings.

You sat in the stands sipping hot chocolate with Marlene, Pandora, and Dorcas, Barty pouting to your left because he couldn't sit with Evan in the Slytherin stands.

Regulus hovered a few meters away, his eyes trained upwards, catching every falling leaf and ripple of air around him. You hated how handsome he looked in his Quidditch robes, his lean body relaxed on the broom despite the stakes.

That was Regulus, un-fucking-shakeable. And it drove you insane that you could never get a rise out of him, but he managed to needle one out of you time and time again.

He was as relentless as a northern wind, and you couldn't help but be swept away.

His dark curls framed his angular face, those perpetually sleepy eyes the most arresting green. Sure, everyone thought Sirius was hot, but Regulus was beautiful, ethereal almost, and he wrapped around your mind like a constrictor.

You watched as the other Seeker suddenly took off above the Hufflepuff stands, in pursuit of something, and the Gryffindor stands cheered. But Regulus remained motionless, watching his opponent like a cat trailing a mouse. Even as Slytherin urged him to take up the chase, he remained unmoved, bidding his time.

His bottomless patience would be awe-inspiring if it wasn't so damn frustrating.

You wouldn't have an issue with Regulus, maybe even could have been friends with him, if he hadn't taken issue with you first. You had no idea what his fucking problem was, whether it was because your family was poor, you had better grades than him, or what. He loathed you from the moment you showed up in the Slytherin common room, and you've yet to receive an explanation.

You'd been saddled with a one-sided rivalry, but you'd be damned if you let him defeat you now after a full semester of back and forth.

The other Seeker pulled up short, whipping his head around like he'd lost something, and you saw Regulus crack a smirk, his canines white and sharp.

Regulus turned his head suddenly, quick like a bird, and then he was off in a blur of motion. His opponent was all the way across the pitch, entirely too far to get there in time.

A moment later— “Regulus Black has caught the snitch for 150 points! Slytherin wins!”

The Slytherin stands erupted with cheers while every other house booed, including your own. But you knew a Slytherin victory meant a rager in the dungeons, so you kept your lips sealed.

Instead, you watched Regulus land at the center of the pitch, the golden snitch held lazily between his pointer finger and thumb above his head. Any other Seeker would have been parading around the field, or flying in wide circles over the stands, screaming their head off, but Regulus was silent. His victory spoke for him.

Although, you knew he'd still be smug as fuck later.

As soon as the stands began to drain, you, Pandora, and Barty caught up with the rest of your Slytherin friends, all of them buzzing about the victory, even melancholic Severus. By the time you all reached the dungeons, a party was already in full swing.

Music thrummed along the walls, so loud it caused ripples in the Black Lake, making the emerald-tinged moonlight shift and dance along the floor. You happily accepted a shot of gin, then another before letting Evan cajole you out onto the dance floor.

Sweat pooled along your spine as the music wore on, your hair wild and loose down your back as you danced, electric energy flowing through you.

A cheer came up from the entrance and everyone turned towards the commotion. The Slytherin Quidditch team strode into the room, black robes billowing behind them. Regulus stood at the front, of course. Even from several meters away, you could see the confident glimmer in his eyes, the arrogant tilt of his chiseled jaw.

Fucking Black’s.

Like a magnet, his eyes found yours across the room, and you nearly tripped over Evan’s feet at the venom they held. But he looked away as quickly as he found you, getting swept up by the crowd and disappearing from your line of sight.

You tracked down another shot and rejoined Evan and Barty on the dance floor, squished between them in a tangle of limbs. Impossible to tell who’s hands were where, just a mess of sensation and touch. The temperature in the common room was rising expontentially, so you shed your sweater, leaving you in your skirt and a white camisole, sweat making the fabric cling to your skin.

A few songs passed like that, and a blonde guy you barely know, Rowle, you thought, took your friends place when they tapped out to smoke. You rolled your body against his, enjoying the way his thick muscles felt beneath his robes, the hungry way he was staring down at you. But you were about ready to take a break yourself, the musky smell of weed calling your name from across the room, when the hair on the back of your neck suddenly rose.

You looked around, searching for the source of your bodies response, when you locked eyes, once again, with Regulus.

He was sitting in a circle of couches against the glass wall with your shared friends, a halo of smoke around his head, a girl perched on his lap, sucking at his neck while he took a drag off of a cigarette. But his eyes were glued to you, tracking every movement you made with the same intensity he tracked the golden snitch.

Confidence wafted through you, and you wrapped your arms around your dance partners neck, letting him dip you so low your hair pooled on the floor, your tits nearly falling out of your shirt. You rolled back up slowly, articulating every vertebrae in your spine until you were chest to chest with your partner, sharing the same breaths.

From the corner of your eye, you saw Regulus choke on the smoke, dislodging the girl from his skin, and you smirked.

You let your partner turn you, showing every angle of your body, and you dropped low, circling your hips in time with the resinous goth song as you rose back up.

Regulus' cigarette hung limp between his fingers, his perfect jaw a little slack.

Emboldened, you broke away from your partner, letting yourself get lost in the sensuous, thrumming beat. Your arms rose above your head, your shoulders and hips swaying in time. It felt like you were hypnotizing him, his eyes glued to every undulation of your hips, and you couldn't recall a time where you felt more alive.

Too soon, though, the music changed to a more electro-pop vibe, and you slipped reluctantly off the dance floor, the taste of smoke beckoning you across the room.

You sauntered over to the circle, pointedly ignoring Regulus as you approached.

“There she is,” Even cooed, extending an arm to you. “You looked amazing out there.”

You smiled, sliding into his lap and taking a drag from the joint between his fingers. “Thank you, lovely.” You smiled sweetly up at him, and you could have sworn he started drooling.

“Feels even better,” Barty teased, sprawled out on the couch beside Evan, clearly a little too inebriated already.

You winked at him, and he flushed a deep scarlet. Pandora, who was resting on the floor between Dorcas’ legs, chuckled at his expense.

Regulus was quiet, per usual, watching as the group chattered around him, turning the golden snitch he caught over and over in his long fingers.

The smoke made your mind a little hazy, your tired muscles from dancing going loose, and you sagged into Evan’s side, leaning your head on his shoulder.

Regulus’ fingers tightened on the snitch, his jaw feathering, and your stomach swooped with nervous excitement. You’d never been able to rattle him before. Had you finally knocked the monolithic Regulus Black off of his axis?

“Reg, why so quiet?” Evan asked, nudging his leg with his boot.

Regulus raised a brow. “What would you like to talk about, Rosier? Fucking Junior? Or eye-fucking y/l/n?”

“We can talk about eye-fucking y/n.” Evan winked down at you, and you rolled your eyes. Avery barked a laugh from his spot on the other side of Regulus.

“Yes, let's,” Barty added, raking his willowly fingers through your hair draped over Evan’s arm. You hummed under the attention, knowing it was all in good, hedonistic Slytherin fun.

Well, almost all in good fun.

As always, Regulus couldn't let your ego inflate too much. “It's hard not indulge in a little novelty, no matter how ineffectual.”

Ouch. His words landed like barbs on your skin, but you ignored him, leaning into Barty’s attention with light moan.

Regulus shifted a little in his seat, his hands falling over his lap, and you nearly smiled. Regulus may act all high and mighty, but he wasn't impervious.

“Look at you,” Even purred, blowing smoke over your heated skin, your decolletage exposed as you stretched towards Barty. “Prettiest girl at Hogwarts, stretched across my lap.” You flushed, squirming a little in his lap, and Evan groaned. “You're torturing me, baby.”

Barty tugged on your hair, sending a skitter of pleasure down your spine and craning your head back even further. “Oh, keep doing that. He loves being tortured.”

“What a good girl,” Regulus hummed, and your pussy throbbed, soaking through your underwear. It was a rush, being admired by the heirs of some of the most powerful families in the magical world. But hearing those sweet words from Regulus, twisted into degradation, did sick things to your mind. “She's on track to graduate with her perfect, filthy-rich husband, and spend the rest of her days as mindless, fertile eye candy.”

You flinched, not that the boys noticed, and sat up a little, suddenly self-conscious in your barely-there shirt.

“We volunteer,” Avery and Wilkes said at the same time.

Evan’s arm tightened around you. “You'll have to pry her from my cold, dead hands,” he replied.

Claustrophobia clawed at your throat, but you couldn't let Regulus know how thoroughly he'd flipped your night upside down.

Wilkes drew their wand, pointing it at Evan’s head. “That can be arranged.”

“A no-name isn't worth it, children,” Regulus sneered. “Save your Azkaban trips for nobler pursuits than cunt.”

That's it. You swung your legs to the ground and rose, stalking towards Regulus. The group whistled and hooted, excited by the oncoming storm of drama.

You climbed into Regulus’ lap, straddling him and stealing the golden snitch from his hands. He was warm and solid beneath you, his expensive, amber cologne swirling with the smoke to create an addicting combination.

His hands immediately fell to your bare thighs, the cold of his rings biting into your heated flesh. His green eyes darkened, lids growing heavy as he looked up at you, his ebony lashes casting delicate shadows over his cheeks.

“Regulus Black,” you murmured in his ear while loosening his tie. His hands tensing on your thighs for a split second before he relaxed them. “You will never find someone that can withstand your thorns the way I do.”

He loosed a breath, chin lifting a little closer to your face like a wilted rose tilting towards the sun.

“You will never scare me off.” You brushed your nose along his temple, feeling his heart rate increase, his breath turn shallow. “I will ruin you, and you will thank me for it.”

Before he could respond, you slipped away, taking his prize snitch with you all the way to Ravenclaw Tower. Unreachable, even for the boy that had everything.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Regulus turned your words over and over in his mind, an endless, torturous loop. The others seemed obvious to his torment, prattling on and on while he burned through cigarette after cigarette, his tongue raw and throat scratchy.

Nothing would numb the ache on his chest, the pulsing strain of his cock beneath his robes. He'd already been painfully hard watching you move, watching you stretch across Evan and Barty like a contented kitten, preening under their devoted attention.

But when you climbed into his lap…fuck.

He was a heartbeat away from coming in his pants. One roll of your hips and he would have been done for, and you had no idea.

Or, maybe you did.

I will ruin you.

It was a miracle that you'd climbed off of him and stormed away, because the only thought he could formulate was please.

Eventually, he couldn't fucking take it anymore. He didn't even say goodnight to his friends, just disappeared into the dormitory and locked the door behind him.

He shirked his robe and grabbed a spare Slytherin scarf from his drawer. He flopped onto his bed and freed his aching cock, the head and angry red and shiny. He wrapped the scarf around it, squeezing hard for a semblance of relief.

“Fucking hell,” he groaned, pumping his cock slowly as your voice filled his mind again, the feeling of your weight on top of him, your sweet breath on his neck, your perfume rewiring the synopsis in his brain.

His hand started to move quicker, breath coming out in desperate pants. He imagined licking across your dewy chest, tasting the salt on your skin, gin on your tongue. Blowing his cigarette smoke over your naked body, into your open mouth. So eager and flayed open for him to ravage—his innocent lamb to ruin.

“Fuck, y/n!” Your name wrenched itself from his throat as he came hard into his scarf, imaging it was deep inside your greedy cunt. His whole body shuddered with the force of it, his jaw hanging open as he pumped himself through the orgasm until he'd milked every drop from himself, wondering if your pussy, your mouth, would do the same.

He slumped back onto the pillows, completely exhausted, and shoved the scarf under his bed.

You were right, you would fucking ruin him, ruin his plans. And he wasn't sure if he hated or loved you for it.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Regulus avoided you for two weeks after that party, going so far as to skip your shared Potions class entirely. It was for the better really, you still felt a little raw after that night, the dull ache of his words combined with the unresolved arousal has left you out of sorts, to put it mildly.

If you ran into him, you weren’t sure if you’d throttle or fuck him to death.

Your friends were beginning to grow suspicious of his absence, and your squirrely behavior, and, unbeknownst to you, they set a trap to bring this stand-off to a finish once and for all.

Pandora chatted animatedly beside you as you walked together down the stairs to the dungeon, ranting about something Aurora did to piss her off. When you arrived to the dungeon, she suddenly paused to tie her shoelace, waving for you to go on ahead of her into the common room.

You did, and the large green door swung shut behind you.

“No! Fuck, Dora!” Regulus was right there, banging his fist on the door.

You looked around, bewildered, only to find the common room completely deserted. Except for Regulus, of course.

“Move,” you hissed, withdrawing your wand.

“I tried everything,” Regulus huffed, a hand raking through his dark hair.

“I said move,” you repeated, pointing your wand at him.

He rolled his eyes and stepped aside, walking back into the common room. He dropped onto the couch by the fireplace, retrieving his book.

You threw every spell you could think of at the door, but it simply wouldn’t budge. “What the fuck!” You shouted, nearly throwing your wand across the room out of frustration.

“They left us a note,” Regulus said, not looking up from his reading.

You stalked over to him, finding an open piece of parchment on the coffee table. Immediately, you recognized Pandora’s loping hand.

“Just bone already.” You read aloud, and scoffed. “What the fuck does that mean?” You glared at Regulus, as if he was somehow responsible, but he still didn’t look up.

“I suspect they’re tired of our bickering,” he replied, turning the page.

“And what does locking us in the dungeon together accomplish?” You couldn’t believe this was happening. Couldn’t believe they’d lock you in a dungeon with your fucking nemesis. Your school yard bully. The bane of your goddamn existence.

Regulus shrugged. “Maybe they think you’ll kill me.”

You let out an exasperated sound and stormed away from him, trying the door to the girls dormitory.

“Locked,” he called a millisecond after you tried the handle.

“Maybe I am going to fucking kill him,” you muttered to yourself. Resigned, you sat on a chair by the glass wall, as far away from him as you could possibly get, and sulked.

You had no clue how much time passed, the only light filtering in through the murky lake. The cold leeched through the glass, chilling you to the bone, but you refused to move closer to him. You’d freeze to death in here if you had to.

“Y/l/n,” Regulus said after the fifth full body chill wracked through you. “Come sit by the fire.”

“Go fuck yourself,” you bit back, and he snorted.

“Fine, freeze.” He returned to his book, not sparing you another glance.

Your hands started to ache from the cold, your jaw sore from your teeth chattering together. With a sigh, you got up and crossed the room. Regulus still didn’t look up, though you could feel his attention shift to you as you sat directly in front of the fire, holding your hands out to it.

“You really think they’ll leave us in here all night?” You asked, staring at the dancing flames.

“Absolutely,” Regulus answered, lowering his book to his lap.

You sighed, resigned. The only way out is through. “I’ll start.”

He tilted his head, dark brows drawing together in suspicion.

You cursed under your breath, and dove headfirst. “I don’t understand why you’re so shitty to me,” you blurted, refusing to look at him. “I’ve never done anything to you.”

He was quiet for so long, you finally caved and glanced over at him, only to find him staring back at you, expression unreadable.

“Regulus,” you huffed, frustrated.

“Y/n,” he mocked, and your stomach flipped despite his attitude. He’d never used your first name before.

“Just fucking talk to me.” You straightened your spine, folding your legs on the ground underneath you, the fire at your side.

He stared at you for a few more moments, his eyes dancing back and forth, before he leaned back against the couch and picked up his book.

“You’re a lot of things, Black, but I didn’t take you for a coward.”

His eyes flickered with anger, but he didn’t bite.

“Reg,” you murmured, softening your voice, and he rolled his eyes, the most unbelievably bored expression on his face. You shifted your weight, placing your hands on the ground, and lifted to your knees. Slowly, you began to crawl to him, being careful to not sway your hips too much, and he broke after only a few seconds.

“On your knees already, darling?” He teased, but the casual tone didn’t match his eyes. The fire in them, the way his hands tightened around the cover of his book, betrayed his true feelings.

Once you were directly in front on him, you sat back on your heels. “Be honest with me, Reggie, did it turn you on seeing me with Evan and Barty?”

He blinked, clearly taken aback by your question. In his lap, you saw his cock twitch, a small pulse along his right thigh.

Men are so fucking easy.

“What about when I was dancing with them? Sandwiched between their bodies?” You rolled your head on your shoulders, mimicking the way you danced and revealing the fragile plains of your throat, your hair falling around your face. “When Barty pulled my hair? When Evan blew smoke over my tits?”

Regulus swallowed hard, his eyes like melted jade.

“What about when I crawled into your lap?” You took the book from him and set it onto the table. Then, you placed your hands on his lean, muscular thighs and pushed yourself to your feet, straddling him the same way you did that night. His entire body was rigid beneath you, muscles coiled tight with tension. “Did you like when I whispered in your ear, Regulus? When I told you that I’d ruin you?”

“Y/n,” he rasped, breathing hard.

“Tell me the truth.” You were so close, your lips brushed the shell of his ear as you spoke. You committed to the contact, brushing your lips along his racing pulse, down his jugular vein. You fought to keep your thighs from clenching together, your own body responding to the feeling him slowly unraveling beneath you. “Do you hate me because you want me?”

“I don't,” he hissed through his teeth.

“If you say so,” you hummed, moving to slide off his lap.

He grabbed your waist, his grip bruising. “Don't you fucking dare."

“I thought you didn't want me?” You taunted, sitting back on his lap to look at him, a hand braced on his sternum.

When you shifted your weight, your pussy accidentally pressed against the hard outline of his cock. You had to force your hips to stay still, your pussy practically begging you to move when you felt him throb against your warm heat.

“That’s not what I meant,” he said. All the malice had drained from his voice, his eyes locked on yours.

Then what the fuck did he mean?

You rolled your hips, biting back the moan that crept up your throat as pleasure snaked through you. Regulus was less successful, a broken groan falling from his pretty mouth.

“It would be so much easier to just tell me the truth,” you purred, slowly rocking your hips over his twitching length, allowing a hint of breathlessness to bleed into your voice. “It would feel so good, Reg, to let it all go. To lose control.”

“Shit,” he crushed under his breath. “What the fuck are you doing to me?” He grated, sliding his hands down to feel your thighs flex with each movement, his fingertips dimpling your flesh.

“What did you mean by ‘I don’t’?” You asked, tilting his chin up with a finger.

His jaw went a little slack as he stared up at you, his eyes heavy-lidded and shining. “I don’t hate you,” he answered, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Then why do you say such awful things?” You stopped your movements, and he made a small noise in his throat, nearly a whimper, but didn’t answer. “Regulus,” you prodded, lifting yourself from him entirely.

“N-no, please, fuck y/n,” he stammered, lifting his hips to grind against you. Another moan threatened to spill from you, his body felt so fucking good against yours, but you managed to restrain yourself. “I did it to try and push you away, I—”

You lowered back onto him, your hips grinding in tandem, and his head fell back against the couch, releasing a throaty groan. You couldn’t hold back a small squeak of pleasure when the hard head of his cock grazed your clit just right, and a wave of pleasure crashed through you.

“Why did you want to push me away?” You started undoing the buttons of his dress shirt, revealing the pale expanse of his chest, lean muscles flexing as he thrusted up against you.

He shook his head, picking it up to look down at where your bodies met, a pool of your slick dampening his trousers. “Getting me all wet, lamb. You like toying with me?” he rasped, moving one of his hands to press a thumb against your clothed clit, his long fingers splayed across your pelvis. “Is that why I couldn’t scare you off?”

You nodded before you could stop yourself, a full moan finally breaking free with the added pressure. You were embarrassingly close to coming, to banter combined with the friction between your bodies was a lethal cocktail, a drug you weren’t sure you’d be able to quit.

You wrapped your hands around his throat, applying enough pressure that he gasped, the sound vibrating your hand. “Why are you trying to push me away?” You leaned closer to his face, his strained pants fanning across your lips. He was so beautiful like this, ravaged by lust and desperate.

“You know why,” he growled, grabbing your wrists. He rolled suddenly, flipping you beneath him and pinning your hands above your head. “What’s my name, y/n?” His free hand slid under your skirt, palming your soaked panties.

“Regulus,” you gasped, arching into his chest.

“Regulus what?” He started rubbing the heel of his palm over your clit, electric pleasure burning through you.

“Regulus Black.” You were on the brink of coming, teetering on that torturous edge.

“Tell me then, my clever little Ravenclaw. What does that say about me and mine?” He leaned down and dragged his teeth along your pulse point, pausing to suck a mark under your ear.

“Fuck, Reg, I’m going to come,” you whined, fighting against his hold as the feeling started to overwhelm you.

His hand stopped suddenly, ruining the orgasm you had just begun to crest. You cried out in frustration, tears springing to your eyes as the pleasure bled out of you, leaving you desperate and humming with tension.

“Answer me,” he demanded, grabbing your jaw with his slick covered hand.

“I’m not an idiot,” you snapped, eyes blazing into his. “I know what the fuck it means. And I don’t care.”

He fell still, eyes searching your face. “Then maybe you are an idiot,” he murmured, eyes softening now that the truth was finally out. “But so am I.”

He closed the final inch between you, connecting your lips in a searing, devastating kiss that you felt all the way to your toes. He released your hands and you tangled your fingers into his curls, finally feeling their softness for yourself as you pulled him closer. Your mouth parted for him, his tongue delving in to taste you.

“Reg, please,” you whined against his mouth, pressing your hips to his again.

“Tell me what you want, lamb.” He kissed down your neck, one of his hands sliding down to grip your thigh and draw it over his hip.

“Fuck me, I need you inside of me.” You clawed at his belt, flipping the clasp and tugging down his zipper.

“Merlin, yes.” He finished undoing his pants and freed his cock, pulling aside your panties to glide the head through your slick folds, lubricating himself. He notched the head at your entrance, hissing at the warmth already kissing him, and eased himself in.

Regulus wasn’t overly large, but the stretch was still divine, filling you until you went cross-eyed, an unholy cry ripping from your chest. He drew his hips back and slammed back into you, over and over again until your were in shambles, a moaning, shaking mess, on the precipice of coming for the second time.

“Come for me, love. I want to feel you break.” He cupped your face, kissing you as he finally pushed you over the edge, an orgasm ripping you apart at the seams. You screamed into his mouth, your cunt clenching around him as your body convulsed. “God, I love this fucking cunt. So perfect for me,” he growled, his hips losing their rhythm as your walls bared down on him, sucking him back in every time he pulled out.

“Reg,” you whimpered, sagging against the couch as the strength bled out of of you.

He pulled out suddenly, pumping his cock in his fist, your honey coating him. “Stay just like that, pretty girl. All fucked out and used. All mine—” a guttural groan broke the final word as he came in his hand, spraying ropes of cum over your rumpled skirt and Ravenclaw sweater, his head thrown back. He looked gorgeous milking himself for you, his muscles flexing with the effort, sweat beading along his skin.

He slowly relaxed, chest heaving, and looked down at you, ruined and covered in his cum. You stared back, completely starstruck by what just happened.

“I’m sorry,” he said, draping himself over you and pressing ksises to your forehead, your cheeks, your neck. “I’m sorry for everything I said. I didn’t mean any of it, I—”

“Me too,” you interrupted him, wrapping your arms around his neck. “I know how hard things are for you, at home, I mean, and I shouldn’t have—”

“No, no. I deserved it. I shouldn’t have brought up your family—”

“But I kept—”

“I never meant too—”

You both exhaled, laughing softly at your rushed confessions, the sudden, giddy nervousness that bloomed between you where there once was glacial wit and razor-sharp banter. He sat you both up, removing your stained sweater and straightening your skirt, then righted himself.

“What now?” You asked when he finished fussing, studying his flushed cheeks, his tousled hair.

He sighed, suddenly looking grim, and your heart gave a nervous thump. “We find a way to keep you safe, lamb,” he said, meeting your eyes. “But until then, we should act like nothing’s changed. Okay?”

Uncertainty coiled in your stomach, but you nodded. “Okay.”

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Thanks for reading!

445 notes · View notes

raayllum · 1 year ago

Text

@imminent-danger-came @thrandilf

*puts conspiracy hat on snugly*

OKAY, SO:

We know that there's some kind of link between dark magic and star magic (and blood magic?) specifically: posts here and here. The most obvious examples being Viren's staff which was made by a Great One/Aaravos and can do dark magic-y things but also very much has a link towards Star magic (as Rayla says, "Maybe if I can figure out how he put you into the cursed coins, I can figure out how to get you out".... dark magic put them into the coins, and star magic - presumably - can get them out). Then there's also the revenge archdragon spell that requires a Star item (unicorn horn), and two body components (a last breath, blood filled with hatred). We know it's a dark magic spell because it causes Viren's corruptive face to come out and it's the dark purple we associate more with dark magic (versus the lighter pinky-purple that tends to show up with star magic) but it is a spell that marries the two magic types, seemingly, together.

Dark magic has always had a cannibalism motif as well:

When Viren does the dark magic whirlpool-esque spell to pull Zym down (just as Ziard did it with the sun birds), the translated spell chants, "I swallow your heart, I swallow your mind, I swallow your power." And Aaravos is the only other character we have who is very much involved with consuming people ("I swallowed her" / "That wave, it will swallow you up!" / little bug pal came out of his mouth) as well as being consumed (going into Viren's ear/throat, and 'metaphorically' at least spat out by the sky).

There are also some details pre-series, especially in Aaravos' time, that are very fuzzy:

We know from "The Epic of the Void," which predates the Fall of Elarion, that Startouch elves used to be around in a much greater number: "I search the Sky for any trace / Of Starfolk, fabled, fallen, found / Once everywhere, now none around [...] So bound to Earth, are we denied / The touch of Stars? Have our Gods died? / Where do the fabled Great Ones hide?"

We also know Aaravos was expelled from whatever realm/plain the Startouch elves live on, and that if it was accessible to humans/Xadians previously, it seemingly no longer is and that he could not re-enter of his own will (maybe they took his chest piece?). So like - maybe the Key of Aaravos is just Aaravos' key to accessing the Startouch elves, that was taken/hidden so he couldn't go back to them? (The thing does seem to be more linked to the prison thus far, but the game motif the cube has definitely likewise encompasses Aaravos wanting revenge against the other Startouch elves, so it's more than plausible.)

If we take the metaphoric language from Ripples literally (and a lot of things have ended up being a lot more literal than expected), we have two options:

Part of Aaravos' punishment was being eaten/consumed and then he was vomited/spat out. This might've been him surviving something the startouch elves didn't expect, or the plan all along. This would lean towards the 'black maw' belonging to a Star Devourer dragon. (Bonus points because a Star Devourer dragon is on the S4/S5 star chart constellation map.)

The Startouch elves, when they left the world (maybe even because of Aaravos' fall), went into a Void Dragon - who inhabits the space between stars - in order to hide themselves accordingly. This aligns better with the Void as well as why they have seemingly left. Conversely, this could also mean the Startouch elves were leaving, and the Void dragon spat Aaravos out down to Earth.

If Aaravos was indeed eaten - particularly as a punishment - that adds another layer of irony to the Sea of the Cast Out not only being where he landed / was imprisoned about a 1,000+ years later, but likewise that his pearl was entombed in the rib carcass of a giant sea creature (who might've been the Empress, a ginormous sea creature, from Zubeia's short story).

Then there's also the fact that it seems like every mage is doomed to be an Icarus figure at this point. Aaravos falls from the heavens; Viren falls at the height of his power from the Storm Spire to his death; Claudia is falling, emotionally, into the dark magic abyss (Icarus fell to the ocean after all); and Callum grows his wings out of love (3x09) but also falls out of love (5x08) and the S6 teaser trailer shows him literally shedding his wings. Even Kpp'Ar falling through failing to stop Viren from becoming/doing something awful before it was much too late. And Karim, "This rising sun has now become a fallen star," being a fucking idiot (affectionate) with everything he does.

Where am I going with all this?

Well, if the Startouch elves are just dense/ignorant as hell because they're not paying attention, that would explain 1) why Aaravos has been able to do all this shit without their meddling and 2) be a nice Viren parallel ("I am struggling to get some people to listen to me. To hear the importance of what I am saying." "Then we will have to Get Their Attention.")

If Aaravos was eaten as a punishment, it could have some Jonah parallels / that the Startouch elves believed he'd been successfully eaten, and therefore was no longer a problem (when in reality, he survived).

The Key of Aaravos could be his chest piece and/or his Key to going Home (much like how Rayla has her magical key to the Silvergrove) and thus he needs it to go knocking on their door and restored to his full powers

And yeah that's pretty much it but like. There's Something here, y'know?

i spend my life being agonized abt tdp and where all of this is going in s6 and I also look at the supplemental material all the time too Especially the short stories since the word choice is obviously deliberate and exacting for maximum motif/foreshadow/theme mileage and i just

"The sky opened its maw and spat from its black jaws a tiny star." always felt like maw and spat and everything about this was deeply foreboding

like the topic of star devourer dragons came up tonight in vc and while i would struggle to believe aaravos wants one summoned to consume his other startouch elf brethren who cast him out since this would put him in danger too, i COULD see him using the sun forge corruption as a trial run for corrupting the actual sun and therefore the other startouch elves in the galaxy but like

point is

it almost sounds like aaravos was in the mouth of something and spat out

and im like did he literally have a Jonah moment with a star devourer dragon. i

#aaravos #pre series #tdp theory #imminent-danger-came #thrandilf #other people's meta #analysis series #analysis #mini meta #just me and my callum stan posse against the world

97 notes · View notes

emiliehornby · 11 months ago

Text

when you get me alone (it’s so simple)

pairing luke castellan x fem! child of aphrodite! reader

synopsis while luke is known for making people’s heads turn at camp, you finally give them a reason to stare after learning how much everyone seems to want him

warnings implied sexual content, descriptions of a make out session

author’s notes happy valentine’s day everyone!! the voices in my head were louder than usual, so i figured we could all use a sweet treat today!! mwah!! i hope y’all enjoy these headcanons

On a particularly slow day, the Aphrodite, Athena, Apollo, and Hermes kids decide to spend their free time around the lake. In a glimpse, Luke can be seen laughing with Chris. A radiant smile is plastered upon his lips while he takes in the sight of you. In the distance, Annabeth sits with Grover on a towel, letting her toes wiggle into the warm earth. She watches the water intently, making sure none of her siblings are in any imminent danger when the giggles from Apollo kids, Sadie and Caroline, drown out her thoughts.

“Gods, what I’d give to be in his arms right now.” Annabeth’s ears can’t help but pick up on the conversation taking place beside her. “It’s no surprise he’s taken. But you’d think as a Hermes kid, he’d go for someone more like…us.” Sadie sighs.

Grover leans in closer to Annabeth, his interest piquing when she rolls her eyes. He fears that the daughter of Athena is going to give them a piece of her mind when she stands, but Annabeth merely picks up the frisbee that lands near her feet. She throws it back to where it came from and sits back down to hear Caroline encouraging Sadie, “Come on, it’s only a matter of time before you’ll get your chance. The Aphrodite charm has to wear off eventually. I mean, it always does.”

This time, Grover can’t stop her from turning to them. “Look, you don’t know how things seem to work around here, so I’m going to explain something to you.”

“What Annabeth means to say is that-” The satyr attempts to soothe the situation, but she cuts him off amidst her stubbornness.

“Now, I know not all the Aphrodite kids are palatable, but Y/N is easily the sweetest one I’ve ever known. And there’s a real reason as to why Luke is so in love with her. But I guess you’ll never find that reason for yourselves if you continue to act like this at camp.” This effectively humbles Sadie and Caroline, who mumble to each other while they make their exit.

As if on cue, you walk up to Grover and Annabeth. You’re laughing with a Hermes kid that soon leaves to join the game of frisbee, but it dies down when you notice Annabeth’s hardened stare. You place a hand on her shoulder, “What’s wrong?”

Grover stands and hands over your towel while insisting it’s nothing. But Annabeth cuts Grover off again to explain, “Sadie and Caroline were saying things about you…and Luke.” You understand what she’s trying to imply and give her a squeeze.

It was no secret that Luke was well admired among his peers. Most of the time, it isn’t even an issue, but there were campers who thought they could change the course of your relationship every now and then.

Sadie and Caroline easily fall under that category, seeing as they completely ignored your existence when Luke decided to take you with him during their initial tour around camp…then there was the time Caroline pretended to lose her way at camp as an excuse to get Luke away from you and alone with her. And just two weeks ago, Sadie feigned hopelessness during a sword skills session. As the instructor, it was Luke’s job to adjust her form. However, it was glaringly obvious the Apollo girl had an ulterior motive, especially when she threw a snarky smile in your direction when she thought you weren’t looking.

“Oh…You don’t have to worry about that, Annie. I can handle myself just fine.” You reassure Annabeth to the best of your ability. She nods and stands to settle herself into your side.

In your peripheral vision, Luke is jogging over to you with his shirt in hand. You don’t miss the way Sadie and Caroline ogle at the thin layer of sheen coating his flexing muscles and the lines running down Luke’s back that aren’t actually sparring scars, despite what you tell the curious kids that help him out in the infirmary. You smile when he pats Annabeth’s arm and leans over to press a kiss to your forehead. “Hey, is it time to head back already?” He asks, putting his shirt on as Annabeth checks her watch.

She huffs, “Unfortunately. We should get going if we don’t want to be late. I still have to grab my dagger.”

It’s a comfortable walk back, and when you reach the Athena cabin, Annabeth bids you two goodbye and runs inside. Luke’s hand is loosely intertwined with yours as you lead him to the Aphrodite cabin. He raises his eyebrows, asking, “Did you need something from your cabin? I thought you were working on archery right now.”

You push the door open, sheepishly admitting, “I am, but I was actually thinking of skipping out on lessons today.”

Luke’s tone is suddenly laced with concern, “Are you okay? Did something happen at the lake?” He drops your hand to check you over, but his touch doesn’t stray far from your waist to prevent you from moving away. But the gesture is welcomed and you take a step forward, a shy smile peeking through the corners of your lips.

His worry for you falters, mirroring your love struck expression, “Oh,” Luke pinches your side. You shove his chest with a shriek. “You’re awful.” He tells you, but he’s already got a hand tracing lightly over your cheek.

Your gaze switches from his dark eyes down to his lips, “You love me.” and that’s all it takes for Luke to dip down his head and meet you halfway. Your hands reach down under his shirt, feeling the warmth radiating from his toned torso. You bite down on his lower lip, and you know you’ve sent Luke’s head spinning when he lets out a short whimper. He attempts to deepen the kiss, but you pull away before he gets the chance.

Your eyes flutter open, whispering, “Do you want to skip lessons with me?”

Luke’s lips are lingering above yours when he responds, “Did you even have to ask?” and pulls you onto your bed. He settles his back against the wall and hums in content when you begin to pepper pecks on his jawline.

After a moment, you pretend to move off of him, “I don’t know…you were pretty excited for combat training earlier. Maybe I should just let you go.”

In retaliation, Luke’s blunt nails dig into your waist, “Don’t you dare.”

A warmth flutters through your stomach when you hear the desperation in his voice. Your fingers itch to tangle themselves in Luke’s ravenous curls, lightly pulling so he can look up at you. A deceptively innocent smile paints your lips and you don’t skip a beat to get him back on you.

Heavy breaths. Discarded shirts. Whispered promises. This is how you spend the next hour in between your skipped lessons and the nightly bonfire. It’s nice, but you know it’s your cue to take a step back when the crowd of kids crawling outside the cabin becomes heavily audible.

You’re still on Luke’s lap when you say, “You look so pretty like this.” Your eyes flicker from his own to his kiss swollen lips and rowdy hair. There’s an urge to run your fingers through them, but you settle for lightly tracing over the fresh love bites that are scattered across his neck and collarbone.

Luke smiles dopily while you admire your work, “I think we should skip lessons more often.”

You finally get off of him, throwing his shirt to his chest while you smooth yours out, “Don’t be such a bad influence, you’re a camp counselor.” You can’t help but stare again when the marks heavily peek out near his collar, fading in between the orange fabric.

Luke notices your longing gaze and walks over to you, “You know, you’re not the only one with charm in this relationship. I’ll be fine.”

“Yeah, okay. Let’s go, lover boy.” You roll your eyes and take his hand. You stumble on your way out, but Luke is there to catch you. He chuckles and lets his arm rest over your shoulders while you reach up to hook your hand with his. He helps you find your footing until your legs wake up on the way to the amphitheater.

“Wait,” You halt just before you reach the steps. You grab Luke’s necklace, gently pulling him in. You let your hands rest on each side of his marked up neck and he hisses at the feeling of your fingers gently pressing on his sore skin. Luke bites down on your lip in response, savoring the hint of watermelon that seeps through until you pull away, “Just wanted one more.”

You’re satisfied once you see the hint of pink gloss smeared at the corners of his mouth. He takes your hand again, guiding you inside. You spot some of your sisters, greeting them with a wave. They giggle at you two in response, whispering frantically to each other while you find an empty space at the front of the bonfire.

“Hey, is anyone sitting here?” Luke asks Sadie, who happens to be standing to his left alongside Caroline. Chris, who’s sitting a step above them, unashamedly howls with laughter at the sight. He leans forward to clap Luke on the back, catching the attention of Grover, who sighs in embarrassment, and Annabeth, who’s trying her best not to giggle at the sight of a gobsmacked Sadie. She and Caroline shake their heads frantically, broken words bubbling from their throats as they take in Luke’s glossy, blissful smile that he throws at you.

They finally give you the time of day, noticing that the reason for his contentment comes from your own swollen lips. You look back at them with a smile and take your rightful seat next to Luke, who wraps an arm around your waist to pull you closer, watching as they go back to their siblings to start tonight’s singalong.

If the fire glows a little greener as Sadie and Caroline lead the singalong, no one comments on it. They all know better than to mess with the insatiable charm you hold on Luke. After all, you are your mother’s daughter.

#luke castellan x reader #luke castellan imagine #percy jackson x reader #percy jackson imagine #luke castellan #annabeth chase #grover underwood #percy jackson #percy jackson and the olympians #stevie writes!

2K notes · View notes

raayllum · 7 months ago

Text

love it when your friends make fun of you <3 @imminent-danger-came

#friend art #the key of aaravos #it's my brand #almost made this my icon the other week but held out for aspec rayllum #and now cute s6 rayllum #dragons rambles #im just like callum fr #forbidden op lore #imminent-danger-came

20 notes · View notes

goldensunset · 8 months ago

Note

I feel like I turned around and then suddenly there was a khml beta. What. What's happening

fanbase going rabid again that’s how it’s going

#how was your semester?#asks #imminent-danger-came

8 notes · View notes

alvoskia · 1 year ago

Text

Art by @imminent-danger-came

ISURI, Infran of the Moon

"I never wanted any of this."

Born and raised in the Citadel, Isuri (she/her) has split her time between the Infrans' manor and her parents' home from a young age, leaving her to have mixed feelings about her mounting responsibilities. Nervous, well intentioned, and diplomatic, she has a kind if selective heart. As the Infran of the Moon, she's sworn to serve and is deified by the wolf-human shapeshifters in the east and west, but would much rather spend her time reading or enjoying the remnants of peace they still have. Her chosen weapon is a bow and arrows and she belongs to the cultural and religious Mirheim sect. She is particularly close to Bill, the Infran of Water.

#isuri sinha #diverse lit #yalit #fantasy #art #imminent-danger-came

16 notes · View notes

its-leethee · 7 months ago

Text

just refilling my coping-skills-toolbox for season 6

feel free to borrow a few when you need :3

(original here)

#for you <3 @imminent-danger-came #tdp meme #mine #the dragon prince #my coping toolkit is mostly rayllum. yes. and #rayllum #tdp spoilers #tdp s6 spoilers #it's evolved a bit since s5 stargazing clip #tumblr/my awful tagging habits making it impossible to find the other iterations. alas

75 notes · View notes

bitchlessdino · 1 year ago

Note

hello! 🤍 can i request a bad boy type wonwoo having a soft spot for also a cold type reader?

like they always acting so cold towards other people and even both of them acting like they hate each other.

and people are like "oh there is no way they can date", but wonwoo is only kind to reader and viceversa even without them noticing

Oh, and they dont even realized their feelings until reader feels jealous when they saw wonwoo with someone else and thats when they realized about it, but are afraid to said something since reader doesnt know how wonwoo will react

Kinda angst maybe, but fluff at the end

take your time btw! 🤍 it is also totally okay if is not possible, hope you are having an excellent day 🌸

Pairing: wonwoox gn!reader Genre: slight angst, fluff, slice of life Word count: 6.3k tags: mentions alcohol, childhood au, biker!wonu, frienemy!wonwoo, possible love triangle, reader called a bitch, presence of violence and imminent danger, analogy using car wrecks, mc and wonwoo stilling living with their parents as adults because that's normal ok, kinda messy, intimates kisses Summary: Hard to maintain a good acquaintanceship if it started off on the wrong foot, but Wonwoo tries to do just that, no matter how much you resent him from childhood. Now reunited as adults, you're questioning whether your negative impression of him has stuck since being away or have you grown up just enough to realize how much between the two you have changed? author note: this was collecting dust but finally she is here. just in time for wonwoo to be in my bias list 🙂

Tag: @shiningstar-byulxx @misssugarlips @tommolex @hoeforhao @goblinvern @dkakapizzaboy @junhui-recs @svtup @buffhoshi @meowmeowminnie @caratochan @lovebot4han @6969lilithcat @camisun93 @emmmui @toruro @jeonride @novalpha @nvmrljk @feat-sun @tinkerbell460 @aaniag @tacosandbitch

You will never willingly be associated with Jeon Wonwoo.

His mom had just happened to be someone your mom knew. Someone that she hadn’t talked to or seen in a long time. Long enough to have built their own families and have their kids without realizing it. It was as if they fell back into place. A long-time childhood friendship that quickly rekindled in a grocery store one day. From that day on, your families were inseparable. As long as they were still friends, you’d see each other every day.

“Why would I babysit some weirdo kid? I have better things to do.”

The problem was he wanted nothing to do with you.

When you met him the first time, you were a child barely getting around to a bike without training wheels, and Wonwoo was meeting the first stages of fungal acne. He was a bit older than you were then and his mom had given him the duty to look after you, the neighbor’s kid. The neighbor’s weirdo kid.

His mom bragged to yours about how good of an older brother he was to his younger brother, Seonwoo, but that seemed that seems to be his limit. Having freshly turned a teen, it all made sense. Wonwoo didn’t know you, and all of a sudden in his growing years he’s stuck taking care of a kid he knows by association. Understandably, he’d have that teen angst.

You didn't mean to overhear. You just happened to eavesdrop behind a pillar that day in their obnoxiously nice house when you came across him and his mother talking privately. Admittedly, you hadn’t made the best impression, but you were any kid in their single digits: annoying, talkative, maybe skeptical. But you were a kid. A kid that got their feelings easily hurt.

Despite saying such hurtful words, Wonwoo listened. He treated you with care–consideration almost–following his mother's orders, but you didn't make it easy for him. Every group breakfast, every dinner, every ride to school. You became relentless. You knew how he really felt about your situation after all. Your mind was made up at that point.

If he wanted nothing to do with you, you wanted nothing to do with him.

“Keep walking.”

Your eyes barely glaze over at the unfamiliar figure before waving off your hand as if dismissing a nuisance, which in this case was accurate. The unsolicited stranger scoffs, getting up from his unwelcome seat, hacking and spitting on the spot on the floor next to your chair. “I don’t fuck with bitches anyway.”

You roll your eyes as you shoo him away with the flick of your wrist again, then feel another unwanted presence join you in your once peaceful solitude. You tightly shut your eyes in frustration before taking a deep exhale, finding silence impossible under your circumstances. “I don’t want to hear it, Jeon.”

“I wasn’t gonna say anything,” you hear Wonwoo arrogantly chuckle, shrugging off the thick leather off his shoulders and setting them on his lap as he takes a seat.

With your back turned to him, you imagine the pristinely lit smile on his face he gives when he’s amused, a rarity in these parts with the exception of you, someone he’s known long enough to recount every blemish that once appeared on your face. He watches you finish the rest of your drink, the bob of your throat shifting before you pull the glass away from your lips. Your resting bitch face is still intact after all these years.

“Good, keep it that way.”

Wonwoo could have chosen to keep the peace as he said he would, but it was just too easy with you. Even after you’ve left for college and come back, he acts as if nothing has changed. In his eyes, you were still that same angsty kid who always has something snarky to say when he’s around. And man, did he always have just as smart a rebuttal. “It’s just, that was the fifth guy you’ve scared off—course, the guy was a moron—but you like dying alone, Frosty?”

Frosty. The Snowman. Much unlike the jolly creature, however, you were given that name being somewhat of a cold character, particularly to Wonwoo and anything he witnesses face the wrath of your harsh but honest judgment.

You begin getting up from your seat, scowling at the abhorred nickname, the prediction of this dinner a mistake an accurate calculation. “Should’ve known you’d run your mouth. Tell mom I’m heading to the store across the street.”

Your mother was so proud to have you back home for a period before you’d find a new place again, and she insisted on holding a small intimate gathering at bar type restaurant. That meant sharing the space with other patrons, the Jeons, and unfortunately Wonwoo, who only grew more irritating than you last remember.

“I’ll tell her, but I’m coming with.”

The caretaker role he was bestowed upon so long ago seems to resonate with him still, insisting on trailing behind you with nonchalance. To which you answer with a brash:

“Fuck off.”

Your eyes go to the back of your skull the nth time tonight before you’re off on your stroll, noticing the annoying scrap of Wonwoo’s heel following behind you after he waves your mom and the rest of the party farewell. You ignore him, darting towards the antique shop that warms your stomach with nostalgia, hearing the wind chimes clang when you enter with a cool musk breeze to follow.

“That all you have to say to me? Even if you hate me, there has to be some…sentiment.”

You finger through the old hardcovers, eyes scanning over the aged wood of the shelves until they move on to the glossy wood of the cuckoo clocks on the walls. “Not even a little bit, Jeon.”

There’s the breathiness of his scoff that lingers in the musk air. He crosses your arms, the leather rubs loudly against itself. “Well, that’s sad to hear,” he responds, not sounding sad at all.

“Don’t you have an actual sibling to bother? Why are you being a nuisance to me?”

He simply shrugs. “Seonwoo isn’t back from his work-study just yet. Plus he’d be happy to know I kept you company.”

Unlike Wonwoo, Seonwoo was actually tolerable, pleasant even. If you were envious of Wonwoo for anything, it was having a nice little brother like Seonwoo. You weren’t exactly close but he was a nice kid, a lot nicer than Wonwoo anyway, and not at all that annoying kind of nice that chirps every two seconds.

You sigh. “Now that’s actually sad to hear.”

“I knew you’d say that. You always liked him better than me.”

Only because you never liked me in the first place.

“Mmhmm.”

“Oh my god, Wonwoo?”

A shrill voice beckons from the store entrance, an older version of a girl from your adolescence runs towards you both. “I thought I heard your gorgeous voice. Gorgeous face as well as always, how are you?”

Gina also grew up in the same neighborhood you both did and was typically nice, but around Wonwoo, she seemed to lose all train of thought since all her eyes could train on was him. She bats her eyelashes the same flirtatious way several years ago, and instinctively her body is drawn to him like mosquitos to blood, drinking in masculine appearance for all its worth.

If you were anything like her, you’d get it. Wonwoo is an attractive man by society's standards, but the truth of the matter is you can’t stand him. And you know deep down he can’t stand you. His fake politeness isn’t fooling anybody. Okay, that is a lie. His fake politeness doesn’t fool you, but his limitless charm made everyone else weak in the knees.

“Good, good.” He nods cordially, a smile drained from his face only leaving a straight stare, eyes only landing on Gina momentarily before they return to you.

Gina finds his gaze’s target before the light is slightly dimmed from her initially bright eyes. “And you too. Oh gosh, you must’ve got back too. Can you believe we’ve both graduated from college?”

You wonder if she does, considering you did graduate from the same university.

“Yeah, it’s…crazy.” You answer, sounding unintentionally sarcastic.

Gina awkwardly chuckles, eyes back on Wonwoo as if they never left. “All we need is Seonwoo and it’s like the musketeers again, huh?”

Hardly the musketeers when she only ever stalked Wonwoo the entire time. You’re surprised you didn’t find she didn’t follow him all the way to the bathroom too.

Wonwoo’s cold expression is a steel cage that lacks interest. He blindly nods, mumbling “sure,” and not giving any other sign of continuing the conversation.

“Well, you guys should totally make it to my housewarming party. I’m inviting all the other guys from the neighborhood. Invite Seonwoo too! It’ll be a nice way to catch up.”

“We’ll think about it,” Wonwoo answers, giving her another curt nod.

“I’ll be really, really grateful if you did.”

There are stars in her eyes, like a treat is dangling in front of it, that treat being a six-foot body of steel and perfect Wonwoo.

“Right,” he grunts.

She finally waves you both goodbye before making it past the glass doors with a quirk in her step.

You continue to peruse the rest of the store, picking up that one wooden statue that’s never been sold, or if it has, it keeps getting returned. It makes you wonder if it’s cursed. “Just reject her already and let her move on. Even I feel sorry for her.”

“I’m not ready for the aftermath of all that.”

You really have to unlearn that eye roll of yours. You could tell it’s giving you a headache. “Of course you aren’t.”

“You’re not going, are you? The thing she mentioned?”

“This the first time you met me? Of course, I’m not going. You are?”

He shrugs. “A party never hurt anybody.”

“Without an address?”

He pulls out his phone with a notification as clear as day, Gina’s Instagram handle ushering him with details of where the party whereabouts. “Who said I didn’t have an address?”

“She really needs to find a hobby.”

Wonwoo chuckles, tucking the phone back in his front pocket. “Ready to head back now? Unless you want to look through the store a second time.”

You groan. “Stop policing me. I’m going home.”

“I’ll take you.”

You raise your brow. “On your fucking death trap? No thanks.”

He scoffs, crossing his arms, the leather of his jacket speaking out of turn again. “You say that as if people aren’t begging to the back of my Harley.”

“Only people with a death wish.”

That goes on for some time until you make yourself walk the mile before your feet give out. Wonwoo obviously is the first with a smile on his face before he forces you to get the rest of the couple miles on the back of his bike, which was admittedly prettier in person than the photos your mom showed you.

There’s a bitter taste in your mouth as you get on—no doubt regret—questioning the proximity. “Hold on,” he says, to which you answer, “fat fucking chance.”

Your spiteful words are wasted as you find yourself tugging on him as you speed off on the vehicle from hell on the freeway.

“You’re an asshole!” You scream from your lungs.

“And I told you to hold on!” He screams back, a wide smile on his face you have no way of seeing.

You desperately wrap your arms around his torso, your life flashing before your eyes like a movie. All you hear is the wind in your ears while the traffic lights are hardly visible through your tightly shut eyes. You feel your soul leave your body, thinking nothing but the idea of an afterlife. If there was one good thing about the predicament you’re in, it’d be that he can’t see the terror in your eyes. He doesn’t know how much you want to scream bloody murder.

Before you know it, you arrive home safe and sound, the gas stopping at the curb of your house. He abruptly uses the bike break and you crash against broad shoulders, and you exude bumbling idiocy as you cling to him like a baby with separation anxiety. Oxygen finally enters your brain and you recognize your compromised position, forcing your grip off of him. You unbuckle and shove his helmet into his lap as you get off, a permanent scowl on your face.

“Fuck you.”

“Glad to see you haven’t changed, Frosty.”

You don’t forget that encounter back then and you never get a chance to with your mom finding any excuse to see the Jeons day after day since your arrival. If that perfect apartment with affordable rent were to drop at your feet at a perfect time just when you so desperately needed it, it’d be now.

“Bring that in over next door. The Jeons will be thrilled to see their fridge stocked. And remember I’ll be gone until the morning.”

“We just gave them homemade wine yesterday. Mom, just because they live next door doesn’t mean we always have to plan to meet. We see them anyway.” You grab the cumbersome container of whatever it was anyway and hold it to your side like like a football, a strained expression on your face.

“You need to understand the value of lasting relationships. That’s why you’re still single, honey.”

You roll your eyes, groaning as you trod off, not wanting to start up another one of lectures why you're in your mid-twenties room with hardly any men in your books let alone in your court. Better off facing Jeon Wonwoo again than that, you guess.

You knock on their familiar white door, awaiting an answer from the other side. Soon enough you hear a masculine voice, but a voice that isn’t quite Wonwoo’s. The boy's fresh face on the receiving end piques your interest, an expression telling of a life of light and ease. Seonwoo stares back at you with a smile before politely waving. “It’s good seeing you! Been a minute.”

You find yourself returning a gesture, relaxing your arms. “It has. Mom wanted to send things over. Again.”

“Of course. Come in.”

You leave the box of goods in their fridge, feeling the presence of the younger Jeon follow behind you like a benevolent puppy. “Did you get in yesterday?”

“This morning. Early flight.”

You grin. “Singapore doing you good, I see.”

“Nothing like home though.”

You softly chuckle, “Yeah, there isn’t.”

Your conversation is cut short with another family coming down the stairs, one that looks ready to leave. They meet your eyes in amusement and his steps begin to falter in turn. “I saw you yesterday.”

“Don’t you dare make a joke about me missing you. It wasn’t funny any of the first five times.”

He’s smug as expected, entertained by the fact you’ve kept count. “I won’t, but it won’t make it any less true.”

You scoff. “Live in reality for once in your life, Wonwoo.”

“I will when you do.” He comes to the kitchen—briefly passing by you to do so and grazing your forearm—to fill a glass of water and downs it, his signature jacket thrown over his shoulders. He let out a refreshed sigh in your direction and put it away as soon as he finished. “I’m leaving now. When you change your mind about missing me, I’ll be at Gina’s party. Might actually find some fun there while you’re at it.”

The door closes behind him dramatically and your attention is right back on Seonwoo, the successful bystander. “Your brother is annoying.”

The young man smiles, finding the nostalgia in that small event. “Reminds me of the good old times.”

“Well, I should get going.”

“You’re going to the party too?”

You shake your head. “Not the slightest bit interested. Just trying to keep myself busy while I’m still in town.”

“Plan on leaving already? You just got here.”

“I can’t live on my parents forever. Need to make a living of my own you know.”

He softly laughs, a warm light enveloping his presence. He always seems to emit pure joy. Like there was nothing that could ruin this kid's day. “Nice to see you haven’t changed. Still self-reliant.”

You can’t help but smile back, “… Wouldn't be me if I wasn’t. I'll see you later, kid.”

You walk back home and go on with the rest of your afternoon by carrying on the duties of a college graduate with no job: endless job hunting. You let yourself go on that way for an hour, already bored by rereading your applicant details and sending in copies and copies of cover letters and documents. Your eyes have started to see stars shooting from either corner, warning signs of mental fatigue.

Shaking the numbing feeling, you shut off your laptop and notice the time on the clock. In the back of your mind, you’re remembering that party Wonwoo ended up going to. These parties weren’t by any means rare, but it had been some time since you let yourself give into environments as such. You said you wouldn't go but in dire situations of weary silences, perhaps it would hurt to take a second in a new subsubspace. Something to take off the edge of the weight of your undetermined future.

Against your initial better judgment, you force yourself out of that house to enter that very party you said you wouldn't go to. So like Gina to make an event over a normal thing like this. You don’t put much thought into what you wear and leave the house and when you arrive late as you were, you are unsurprised by the huge turnout. Five seconds in, you’re already regretting the 10 bucks you paid via UBER to get there.

The house was so Gina. As expected of one of the daughters of the wealthiest families in town. As you enter, all you hear is music, loud and rambunctious voices and laughter, and shouts of barely adults chugging whatever concoction in those house party solo cups. It all quickly reminds you of college and high school, times in your life you were relieved to know were over.

Why did you decide to come again if you knew this was going to happen?

You try ignoring the voices that seem to recognize you, evading and walking through the place for a potential drink to buzz you out of self-consciousness. If you were going to be in a place like this, a drink was warranted by all means.

“Wonwoo, come on!”

Gina’s voice, easily distinguishable, resonates from the other end of the room and sees how her presence bounces like a kite in the wind. You look in the direction of her gaze to find the person she seeks, ultimately having Wonwoo being dragged by the wrist, his hair sweeping the swift breeze of her force. You were a bit relieved to see him, someone who is more similar to you in ways you’d never willingly admit.

You feel the urge to approach, curious how he’ll handle this one, but intentions all change of a brisk move, changing setting immediately. One second Gina looks up at him with doe eyes that speak longing and ache, another second her arms are looped around his neck and she pulls his lips against hers, massaging against them naturally as if rehearsed. Your feet stop, watching the unsightly scene like it’s a car crash as if in slow motion, taking you only a second to realize he hasn't yet let go.

Slowly then quickly, your chest pulls up like a marionette doll before it drops in a lump, repeating until the sound of your heart is rapidly pounding into your skull. You don’t understand it, but you don’t want to either. Swiftly, you duck back and turn your head in the other direction, having seen enough.

Then panic ensues.

People are harder to brush through than you realize. Colliding each one was like speed bumps in your way of a smooth departure. You were bound to have one person take a drunken offense to your rash movement and there it was: a subtle push that led to a spilled drink that stains the shirt of a man big enough to frighten children if he approached.

“Watch the fuckkk ya goin’!”

You don’t bother with the importance of apologizing or even acknowledging him. You realize it too late when he pulls at your collar back towards him, strangling you at the throat.

“S…stupid bitch can’t even see…fucking ruin my—hic—deink”

Your hands come around his grip, attempting to pry him off. “L-let me go. The fuck?”

“The fuck you say to me piece of shi—ah!”

He finally releases you when Wonwoo appears from behind him, tossing him out like an old ragdoll with no weight. The drunkard comes crashing down to the hardwood floor and before he realizes the cause of it, said cause whisks you away with his gril looping around your wrist.

“You’re going home right the fuck now,” Wonwoo grumbles, dragging you out of other guests' way and right out of the door, once again leading you to his motorcycle. “Bike now.”

“Wonwoo, what the fuck—“

“You aren’t an idiot. You knew what was gonna happen if I hadn’t stepped in. Now get on before fee fi fo fum finds out we left.”

“I’m not getting on that death trap again!”

His glare pierces right through you. “I know you'd rather be at home than here. Especially with the probability of becoming a statistic. Get on.”

He is right for the most part and even you’re seeing through your nonsensical defiance. Reluctantly, you follow his lead, knowing he’s left you with no other choice. You endure another near death experience, this time clutching on to him less resistantly unlike last time all the way back home. It is when you’re at the foot of your door you only realize the keys that were supposed to be in your pocket but left on the kitchen counter instead.

“Shit.”

Wonwoo quickly puts the pieces together. “No key?”

You shake your head, embarrassed slightly over your feeble appearance. “No, and mom won’t be back until the morning so I’m screwed.”

“Alright. You’re sleeping over.”

You scoff looking back at him, wondering whether he’s in the right state of mind to make that call. “You’re kidding.”

“Not unless you’re okay slumbering at the footstep of your door.”

Another choice made of your hands. You discouragingly follow after him as he unlocks the door across the street. Seonwoo was evidently still home with his loafers by the foot of the door but dead asleep upstairs in bed.

“You take my bed. I’ll take the couch,” he offers nodding in the direction of the living room.

“No thanks, I’ll take the couch.”

He groans, giving that irritated look. “Don’t be difficult and just sleep in the damn bed.”

You huff, strutting over towards the couch. “Sleep in your own damn bed, Jeon. Stop treating me like you’re my babysitter.”

He follows after you, crossing his arms like an annoyed mother, “You’re really gonna be like this?”

“I’m not being like anything.”

“You know what?” He grabs the throw pillow off the couch, “Fine. We’ll share the couch.”

“Excuse me?” Your eyes narrow back at him.

The smug smile on his face says it all, knowing there was no rebuttal to follow. “Neither of us will take the bed, we’ll both will take the couch.”

Before you can argue, he ascends the stairs for more bedding and comes back to toss you a blanket and pillow. He keeps one of each for himself, sprawling on the other end of the massive couch, gesturing you to do the exact same. Cautiously, you mirrored his image, crawling under your borrowed blanket. Despite your feet not touching, you couldn’t help but feel suffocated by the close proximity, forcing you to crunch up your legs and bring your knees close to your chest.

Wonwoo’s eyes drop in place, nuzzling into his thick blanket. “Good night.”

“Whatever.”

He softly scoffs with a smile, basking in the silence. Meanwhile, there was you, wondering why you listened to his instructions so willingly. You sigh, your eyes glued to the ceiling counting every bump and curve of its textured surface.

“This is stupid it’s literally 10 pm”

“Sounds like bedtime.”

You peek back at him, his eyes still closed. “You did not go to a party to plan on sleeping at 10 pm.”

“You don’t know what my plans are. Sleep now.”

“I could’ve handled it, you know,” you argue.

“I bet you could’ve,” he responds dryly. “Wasn’t gonna take that risk though.”

“I’m serious…you didn’t have to, especially since…”

“What?”

“You know,” you take a moment to form the words, “whatever that was with Gina.”

You hear him scoff, shifting on his side of the couch. “Nothing was happening with Gina.”

You let out a parched laugh, in disbelief of the words leaving his lips. “Wow, that lie comes so easy, does it?”

“Believe what you want. It’s not what you think anyway.”

“You’re so…obnoxious,” you sputter.

“Thank you.”

“So when did that happen? You and Gina?”

He huffs hot air out of his nose.“There’s no me and Gina. I don’t know what you saw, but…it’s nothing.”

“You were kissing.”

“You could call it that.”

“For a while,” You add.

“Just enough for her to find closure.”

“And did she?”

“Saved your ass before I could find out.”

You have no response to that and you let the silence take over for a few minutes. After those few minutes, Wonwoo was the one to break the peace.

“You asleep yet.”

“No, it’s not even 11,” you answer exasperatedly.

“Well, I'm tired.”

“Go to sleep then.”

“You should sleep before I do.”

“Why?”

He shrugs, “I'm supposed to take care of you. It’s what your mom would want.”

“Why? I'm a grown adult.”

“I don’t think an explanation is needed.”

“Ever heard of personal space?”

“Make some smart decisions and I’ll consider it.”

“You’re such a dick,” you grunt, turning away from view.

“I’m only trying to protect you.”

This shit again. You pushed yourself up from the couch to sit up, fuming in his direction. “Because your mom asked. Okay, I get it, but you’re not obligated to anymore because I’m your mom's friend’s kid. Just stop.”

“That’s not why–”

“Stop lying–”

“I’m not fucking lying,” he says matching your stance. His gaze meets yours in anguish, urging you to drop it.

You scoff, lying back down in a sleeping position with your back turned towards him. “Whatever.”

“...Despite popular belief, I’m actually concerned about you sometimes.”

“I guess…I don't entirely find that hard to believe.”

“Thank you. It’s not like I hate you.”

“Sure,” you answer, voice basted in sarcasm.

“I don’t.” You hear his body shift back down on the couch, finding comfort between the leather cushions.

“Then why are you such a dick.”

He sighs. “Sorry.”

“That’s all you have to say?”

“...Sorry.”

You ponder to yourself, wanting to turn back the clock to the earlier conversation for unknown reasons. You turn your body, seeing how his body mimics your body seconds ago, back turned, eyes closed, and facing the couch. “So if not Gina–”

“There’s no one,” he cuts off, “I mean, I'm not seeing anyone.”

It reassures you. Not that it should’ve. “Okay. I believe you.”

“Okay.”

You’re unsure when you drifted off, you only remember it being mid-conversation that your vision started to blur, followed by darkness and soon the light of the following morning. You wake up in Wonwoo’s house unexpectedly alone, quiet enough to hear the sound of a pin dropping. You enter the kitchen, parched, and you find a plate of food. You approach cautiously, catching a glimpse of the note, immediately catching on to why it was so damn empty.

Went to get stuff done. Keep yourself entertained for a bit. - Wonwoo and Seonwoo

With an impish grin, you quickly run your fork over and over into the balanced meal and nourish your body, but slow down as your subconscious reminds you of last night's events. It wanders to your impulse to attend a party out of sheer boredom, stumbling upon an unexpected scene, before immediately trying to escape it before you are caught. The kiss becomes a scene stuck on replay, playing the image like a broken record. You did not black out, though you wish you had, considering your uncalled-for badgering of Wonwoo’s relationship status you shouldn’t have cared less about. Yet do.

You try bruising it off if you can help it, quick to leave, and relieved to find your mom home to let you in. Your day begins a new, and with a new day, she already has stuff for you to do. You’d be annoyed if you weren’t so grateful to be let back in home, remembering to grab your keys this time as you left the house again following her request for grocery shopping.

You drink in the town for the first time since being back, questioning yourself why you hadn’t done it earlier. The block isn’t that different since you left, perhaps more greenery and flowers, but otherwise everything looked the same. Same old town, same old stores, the only thing difference was the people. Fine lines got deeper, toddlers now taller, and you now a stranger. Even the grocery store has changed managers, one adolescent bag boy at a time.

Even long finished with grocery shopping, you’re still wandering the center of town, circling in steps of the alternating tiles of the ground. For a moment, you free yourself from your thoughts, your worries, your ambitions, and live in the moment. It had been so long since you felt like this. You expected the feeling to emerge in college but that had been just another thing on your plate and suddenly you’re reminded of Wonwoo. Knowing him, he’d like this sight of you, proud to see you experience another emotion for a change.

Then your eyes flit back to the scene several meters from you. He reappears in your vision just as he has in your thoughts, only now Gina embracing him, squeezing the life out of him just as the life is squeezed out of your chest. He meets your eyes, his pupils expanding, before lightly pushing the poor girl off of him, but not in enough time to stop you from trying to escape again.

“Hey!”

You ignore him, letting your feet take you where it guides you. You’re blind to the incoming obstacles, brushing past pedestrians, shoulder everybody you meet, and you barely register the busy road before your feet make an unexpected halt. You hear the blaring honks until you’re pulled out, face crashing into their shoulder, arms coming around your in strong enclosure.

“Are you stupid? Why are you running into oncoming traffic?”

You shove him off, heart beating louder in your chest than any bike ride he’s taken you on has, and you’re seething in an emotion that you never expected to be in. Never in this lifetime at least. “Wonwoo just stop. Please.”

“I’m not doing anything. I don’t get why you’re trying to push me away.”

“I’m just sick of this. Of you. I can’t do this.”

“Why? Why? What do you think this is?”

“Just, leave me alone, Wonwoo.”

He sees you trying to walk out on him again and he doesn’t let you. Taking you by your arm, he pulls you towards him, leaving only the width of your forearm as his gaze pierces right through you, brimming with a mix of concern and utter anger. Frustration. Impatience.

If there was one thing about Wonwoo, he may have looked like he came from an anger management class, but he did manage it well. When he didn’t, your feet would feel glued to the concrete, frozen in the fire of his eyes, for once fearing what the man had to say.

“You know what? No. I’m not letting you do this? I don’t understand what’s going on or why you hate me so much–”

“God,” you groan, “it would be so easy if I just hated you.”

“Then what is it? You don’t hate me. You don’t like me. What? I’m wracking my brain trying to understand you–”

You don’t let him finish. You aren't sure what was in the breakfast you had today but you find yourself pulling him by the collar to meet his lips only to push him away in that instant, barely a whisper of his presence in your mouth. You clamp your hand over your mouth before finally treading away shocked by your actions, scurrying away.

He doesn’t follow you and you don’t blame him. You retrieve your once-abandoned groceries from the intersection to then find your way home. Rain is close to follow, drenching from head to toe. As if things couldn’t get any worse.

When you get home, you’re alone once again. The door shuts with a clang and you’re left in your self wallow, regret burning the back of your throat. Your back slid against the wood, a deep exhale expelling from your lungs. “So that’s what’s wrong with me.”

Like clockwork, you feel a knock erupt from the same door. Conceding to whatever was on the other side, you brush yourself up from the ground and turn the knob, only to be taken aback. Wonwoo, wet like made from glass with his locks swept over his head, stands before you panting. On either hand is a bundle of flowers barely protected in the cellophane it came with when he bought them and his cell phone he’s death gripping in his hand, no doubt damaged by the rain.

You blink back at him, lips parting in confusion. “Wonwoo…You’re wet.”

“Likewise.” He invites himself in and sets the flowers on a table nearby, not even for a second letting his gaze stray from yours. “You left me hanging there. Kiss a guy and walk away like he means nothing?”

You shake your head in disbelief, processing this, him. “Why are you here…with flowers?”

“I really do have to spell out everything for you, don’t I?” he responds smiling.

The squelch of his shoes trod in your direction, the invisible string connecting you two shortening. Preventing your evasion, you feel the palm of his hand against your back and your lips crash in a lingering reunion. The squeak of his slippery leather doesn't make it past your ears, distracted by the heat of his lips in the clash of the coolness of his rain-stained skin.

Your hand crawls up his neck to press him closer, feeling the strength of his arms wrap around you tighter before shutting the front door effortlessly with his foot. He lets you pin him against the door, lips tight bound to yours, and relief settles in his stomach as you show no sign of pulling away. He finds himself whispering a word of gratitude in every language, smiling against your lips. “No more excuses…I’m not letting anyone get in the way. Not even you.”

You finally break out in a smile, brushing it against his lips before reclaiming them, not minding the wet leather.

You spend the rest of the day in each other’s company. You put away the groceries before the room temperature worked against their favor and got yourselves changed out of your rain-dampened clothes, throwing them in the dryer. Even if he lived right next door, you allow him to wear your most oversized shirt after he insisted he should, watching the cotton fabric cling to his broad shoulders with the hem just hitting him at his hip bone.

Man, he’s a large man.

“Kinda snug.”

You scoff, crossing your arms in an attempt to hold yourself back. “You can get clothes next door. You’re just a few steps away.”

He grins, approaching you. “It’s raining…I could get sick.” His long arms land on either of your shoulders, reminding you of that cat that knew too much in a childhood cartoon. “You don’t want me sick…”

“You wouldn’t get sick taking two long strides to your house, Jeon,” you respond, rolling your eyes, unable to meet his.

“But you’d take care of me if I was, right?”

You roll your eyes, accepting his advances of a hug and feeling his chin fit in the crook of your neck. “Kiss a guy two times too many and he follows you around like a stray cat.”

He grins. “You like it. Don’t act like you don’t. You probably even like my bike and you’re not telling me.”

“Okay well, no. Those are two separate matters.”

His arms wrap around you tighter before reuniting your lips, such tenderness and sweetness in his gaze as he thumbs over the curve of your cheek. “You don’t deny that other thing.”

“I thought was already point blank. You know, when I didn’t push you away, kicking and screaming.”

“Yeah, but,” he shrugs, his cheekbones only getting higher. “Hard to come by something nice from you. I want to hear it.”

You sigh, giving in. “Fine.”

Your head fit between the divide of his chest, hearing a quickened pulse underneath it. You close your eyes as your hand strokes against his back. “I have… feelings for you. Maybe for once good feelings. Just don’t get cocky about it.”

Overwashed with calm joy, he takes you tighter, inhaling the soap in your hair. “Too late.”

#svthub #wonwoo #wonwoo angst #seventeen wonwoo #seventeen #jeon wonwoo angst #seventeen fanfic #wonwoo fluff #seventeen x reader #seventeen x you #jwon wonwoo fluff #jeon wonwoo #wonwoo fanfic #wonwoo x reader #wonwoo x you #wonwoo x y/n #jeon wonwoo x reader #jeon wonwoo x you #jeon wonwoo x y/n

2K notes · View notes