#I CANNOT POSSIBLY CHOOSE BETWEEN MY CHILDREN!!!! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

wildestdreamsblog · 29 days ago

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Might as well be drunk in love: 3 of 3

Pairing: OT7 x Reader (CEO AU)

Summary: In which your friend thought it would be funny to give you a love potion, and in which seven CEOs accidentally drank it.

Warnings: Love Potion, Yandere behavior, Obsessiveness, Possessiveness, Manipulative behavior, Violence, Mention of death, Disability, If you’re not 18+ please, PLEASE, do not interact. Be mindful of the warnings. Let me know if I miss anything.

A/N: HAPPY HOSEOK'S DAY! We made it! 2/7!!

Part 1, Part 2

Your smile was genuine when you met Kim Taehyung’s eyes.

Unlike the others who were punctual, he was a minute late. He was grinning though like he had a secret he couldn’t wait to share to you.

“You seem happy, Taehyung,” you remarked as you stepped closer, the distance between you shrinking with each heartbeat. With his hands tucked into his pockets, he waited eagerly for you to reach him. The only indication of his bubbling excitement was the way he bounced slightly on his feet. He looked so much lighter in this light, you noticed, the usual darkness in his eyes was nowhere to be found.

He looked truly happy like the sun had decided to shine just for him.

“I am,” he said, his grin widening even more. His eyes sparkled with anticipation. How can he not be happy when you were near? “You’re here with me. With us. How can I not be happy?” he murmured, gently pulling your hand into his and clasping your fingers tightly.

You blinked, surprised by his blatant statement. The potion was indeed so powerful that even the cold Taehyung turned into this kind of person you would want for you own had it been a different circumstance. You thought that whoever he would choose to love after all this fiasco would be the luckiest person.

However, you chose to not dwell on his statement. You were extremely happy with the good news your friend shared with you. There would be a cure soon, and you just knew that you would be nothing to him and all of them after this but a fleeting memory. You decided to hold on for a little while longer, and maybe just lived in the moment where this was a possibility. Sooner rather than later, they would go back to not knowing and caring who you were.

You cleared your throat, “So, where are you taking me?”

Taehyung took a sip from his coffee, the takeout food laid on either side of you on the bench. A smile tugged at your lips at the peculiarity of it all—here was one of the richest men in South Korea, someone with immense influence, choosing to share a simple day in the park with you. It felt surreal, the laughter of children and rustling leaves wrapping around you like a warm embrace.

“This is really good,” he hummed appreciatively, his eyes lighting up as he sampled one of the dishes from the food truck. “And it’s really cheap. I cannot believe those fancy restaurants charge so much when the food is just so-so.”

“Right? Finally, someone from the rich admitted it!” you laughed, your voice mingling with the sounds of the park. “I always wondered if the taste buds of the rich are just inherently different from us. There’s no way you guys are satisfied with those little servings of dishes. Also, is this your first time eating here?”

“Yes…” Taehyung rubbed the back of his neck, glancing at the pond sheepishly. “I always wanted to do this with a girlfriend. You know, those TV dramas show how romantic this is.”

You couldn’t help but grin at his confession and the innocence in his voice. The sincerity of his confession made him endearing, if not more. “So, here we are, living the drama, huh? Too bad you didn’t do this with your real girlfriend.”

He glared at you, his expression mock-serious, before playfully snatching your hand and fully enclosing it with his. “You’re my real girlfriend,” he grumbled childishly, a spark of mischief dancing in his eyes.

Your heart raced at the sudden intimacy, warmth flooding through you. “Oh, really? Guess I should start practicing my dramatic sighs and longing gazes then,” you teased, squeezing his hand gently.

“Absolutely,” he said with a grin, his earlier shyness melting away. “I expect nothing less from my leading lady.”

It was a nice lunch out which should have ended as nicely as it started.

But you should have known your wish was too good to be true.

You were walking with him on your way back to the office when he randomly decided to go back and buy his brothers takeout food. He claimed that since he thoroughly enjoyed it, his brothers should too so that they would know just what they were missing. He asked you to wait for a little while before he turned back. And you did. You were contented with scrolling through your social media when you were interrupted.

“Excuse me, miss?” A man called for you, his smile was warm as he looked at you. “May I know what time it is?”

“Oh uhm, it’s 1:37,” you replied, glancing at the screen of your phone.

He thanked you politely before resuming his walk when he abruptly stopped. He chuckled sheepishly, looking at you over his lashes. “I really don’t need to know the time. I’m sorry, I’m really bad at this. You’re just so beautiful –”

“May I help you?” Taehyung’s voice suddenly cut through the air, firm yet protective as he reappeared, a bag of takeout in hand. He stepped in front of you, effectively blocking you from the other man’s view. His face was void of any emotion, yet he managed to terrify the man.

The man straightened, clearly caught off guard. Taehyung’s presence shifted the atmosphere, his expression a mix of confusion and an underlying feeling of intimidation. “Uh, I was just… asking the time,” the man stammered, taking a step back.

Taehyung’s gaze narrowed slightly, a hint of a challenge in his posture. “Right. And now you’ve got the time. Anything else?”

“Man, I’m not looking for any trouble. I-I just really thought she’s single. I meant no harm!” the man protested, his voice shaky.

“Why are you still here?” Taehyung whispered, the sound of irritation was heavy in his tone. “Why are you still looking at my woman?” He asked, the words coming out as a low growl, each syllable deliberate and heavy.

The air between you crackled with tension as the man’s face blanched, realizing he had crossed a line. He raised his hands defensively, backing away further. “I—I didn’t know! Sorry, I just thought—”

“Thought what?” Taehyung pressed, taking a step forward, his stance unwavering. “That it was okay to interrupt her? To make her uncomfortable?” He was too close to the man, his hands closed to a fist as though he was just one look away from exploding. “That you can steal her away from us?!”

How could you ever think that he was something other than the darkness that was caging his heart? How could you ever be so naïve? “Hey, it’s fine. He didn’t bother me at all,” you interjected gently, trying to diffuse the situation before it escalated further. “Let’s just let him go.”

Gone was the sweet man you perceived him to be not long ago, and in his place was the darkness you always knew him to be when he slowly turned around after the man swiftly escaped the situation. “Remember this, little one,” he started, his voice grave yet commanding, a blend of promise and threat. “We are the only one for you.”

You couldn't shake off the discomfort that Taehyung's interaction had stirred within you.

You were deep in your thoughts, terror and anxiety in your heart. He was the third in the schedule and you still had four to go. All the interactions you had with the boys so far only made you see the warning signs flashing in your mind. This was a wrong decision. You should have heeded your friend’s warning about spending time with them and avoided skinship as much as possible.

You should have focused on finding the cure. However, you couldn’t just turn your back on them, not when they all acted like they were on their deathbeds as though you were the only cure, badly needing you to take their next breath. The weight of their dependency tugged at your conscience, making it harder to escape the turmoil that surrounded you. Hence, your predicament.

Taehyung’s reaction was too much. The potion was turning them into jealous, possessive men, their natural temperaments amplified into something almost unrecognizable. It had only been three days since the potion had taken effect, yet it seemed to amplify their emotions, turning them into jealous, clingy versions of themselves. You felt a chill run down your spine as you recalled the way his eyes had darkened, how intense his gaze had been, as if he saw you as something he needed to protect at all costs.

Consumed by these unsettling thoughts, you almost forgot about Jungkook entirely. His presence had slipped into the background amidst the chaos Taehyung’s behavior had caused. That is, until the hurried sound of footsteps interrupted your spiral. You turned, startled, to find a group of Jungkook’s guards, their expressions tight with fear. Wide-eyed and breathless, they approached you swiftly, the urgency in their movements sending a wave of panic through you.

“What—what’s happening?” you stammered, confusion mixing with dread.

“Mr. Jeon… he’s not well,” another guard murmured, his tone serious. “It’s bad.”

Your heart sank as the weight of their words hit you. Jungkook was not well. If Taehyung’s possessiveness had shaken you, the thought of Jungkook in a similar state terrified you even more. Without hesitation, you followed them, a knot of anxiety tightening in your chest.

As you neared his floor, the muffled sounds of destruction reached you—sharp crashes, the unmistakable sound of something heavy being thrown, followed by a guttural, enraged grunt. The noise alone made your skin crawl, but you pushed forward.

“Go in,” one of the guards pleaded, his voice quiet but urgent as you hesitated. You could hear the familiar voices of Jin and Namjoon on the other side of the door, their tones strained as they attempted to calm him.

“Jungkook, breathe,” Namjoon was saying, his voice low, trying to inject calm into the chaos.

“Come on, it’s okay,” Jin added, though the strain in his voice betrayed the calm facade he was trying to maintain. “She’ll be here. She didn’t leave… relax.”

The guard beside you pushed the door open, leaving you no choice but to face your oversight. Suffice to say, the scene before you sent a fresh wave of fear through your body.

Jungkook’s office was a mess. Papers were scattered across the floor, a desk chair lay on its side, and the corner of the large wooden desk had a jagged crack running through it as if something—or someone—had hit it too hard. A shattered vase lay in pieces, its contents scattered across the floor.

In the center of the chaos stood Jungkook. His back was to you, his broad shoulders heaving with labored breaths, fists clenched tightly at his sides. Even from where you stood, you could feel the tension radiating off him like a living thing. His stark, dark hair was disheveled, his usually sharp, precise appearance completely undone by whatever storm was raging inside him.

You knew you caused it. You were aware of you effect on them, but heavens, you didn’t know it to be this bad.

Namjoon was the first to notice you. His draconic eyes, once calm and calculating, now burned with an intensity that made your breath catch in your throat. The second your startled gaze met his, you saw it—the darkness swirling in him, consuming him. He hadn’t seen you since last night, and the distance had frayed his already strained control. His jaw clenched, muscles tensing as if he were holding himself back from lunging at you. He needed you. Desperately.

But the leader in him fought against the urge, restraining the primal hunger clawing at his insides. He knew he had to hold back—for now. The others needed you just as much as he did. He could wait. He had to wait. His fingers twitched at his sides, betraying the struggle within him.

He could wait until tonight.

He had to.

“Thank God,” Jin breathed when he noticed your presence. He stepped away from Jungkook.

Jungkook’s head snapped up the moment you stepped further into the room. His body froze, as though sensing your presence before even turning to look at you. Slowly, he turned around, and the intensity in his eyes when they locked onto yours was nearly suffocating. His dark eyes, wide with emotion, bore into you, his lips parted slightly as he struggled to catch his breath.

The room went still as Jungkook’s gaze never wavered from you. You could feel the raw intensity behind his eyes, the same kind of possessiveness you had seen in Taehyung but magnified tenfold in Jungkook. It wasn’t just desperation; it was obsession, need, something far more dangerous than mere jealousy.

“You…” he stammered; his voice rough from all the screaming he had done. His words were laced with desperation and disbelief. “Y-you didn’t leave us, Noona?”

The room was too silent as though their stability rested entirely on your next move. You knew you had to thread extremely carefully.

You swallowed hard, your heart pounding in your chest, your knees locked. You brain was screaming for you to run away from him. “Jungkook,” you whispered, his name fragile on your lips.

It was him who decided for you.

He hated the distance. It gnawed at him, fraying what little control he had left. He took a step forward, his fists still clenched, muscles tense as if he were fighting some invisible restraint. “Don’t leave me,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, but there was a command beneath the words. His hands caressed your cheeks and tilted you face to meet his eyes. “You… you can’t leave me. You cannot leave us.”

He didn’t let you leave. And you couldn’t as well, not when he was visibly distraught. Most especially, not when his arms were wrapped around you like a vine. Before you knew it, you were lying on the sofa in his office, Jungkook’s arms wrapped around you like vines, pulling you impossibly close. His body pressed against yours, seeking warmth, seeking comfort. He didn’t say anything, but the weight of his emotions was palpable. His grip on you never loosened, his head buried in the crook of your neck as if he was afraid you’d vanish if he let go.

The only reassurance he seemed to accept was having you there, physically close to him, where he could feel you, touch you, and know that you hadn’t disappeared. But as comforting as your presence was to him, it left you uncomfortable, stressed by the weight of the situation. Jungkook was too close, his grip too tight, and the intensity of it all made your mind scream for space, for distance. But you couldn’t move—not when each time you tried to shift even slightly, he would hold on tighter, and the quiet, broken sobs would return, muffled against your skin.

Your unlikely savior came at exactly 3 in the afternoon.

Min Yoongi opened the door in a relaxed manner as though he was the owner of the office, his bored eyes finding your form on the sofa. His relaxed demeanor was a stark contrast to the tension that hung in the room. Jungkook hadn’t noticed him yet, but you softly calling Yoongi’s name alerted him of his presence —more a sigh of relief than an actual greeting—it was enough to pull Jungkook’s attention. Yoongi raised his brow at Jungkook, his expression impassive as ever, a silent question if the younger man was finally okay. Jungkook’s only response was the slight untightening of his grip on you. The shift was hesitant, reluctant, but it was there. Slowly, his arms loosened, though his body still remained close, not quite ready to let you go entirely. His possessiveness had dulled, but it was far from gone.

Yoongi’s gaze softened when he turned it back to you, his expression warm and unexpectedly gentle. He knew what you had endured, the strain it had caused you, and for once, the sharp edges in his usually indifferent demeanor softened into something close to tenderness.

"Good afternoon, darling," Yoongi said in his low, easy drawl, a hint of amusement dancing behind his words. “I’ve come to save you.”

Yoongi knew how overwhelming and overstimulating things could be sometimes. For the life of him and despite the instincts screaming in his head to have you close, he chose to silently walk beside you. You had been through enough for today.

You didn’t even question where the two of you were going. It was like all the energy you had was drained from you. You were silent even as he closed the car door for you, was speechless even when he expertly drove away from the building. Min Yoongi was just exactly what you needed after the conundrum being with Jungkook brought.

“I know it was tough,” Yoongi said, breaking the comfortable silence that had settled between you two. His voice was low, steady, as though he had been waiting for the right moment to speak. His hands gripped the steering wheel loosely, his gaze fixed on the road ahead, but you could feel the weight of his attention on you. Even without looking at you, Yoongi had this uncanny ability to make you feel seen, like he was always aware of what you needed before you even realized it yourself. “But still, thank you for calming him down.”

The soft hum of the car filled the space, and though you didn’t respond immediately, you knew Yoongi didn’t expect you to. From the short time that you were with them, you noticef that he had always been like that—patient, never pushing you to speak before you were ready. His quiet understanding was something that set him apart. There was no rush with him, no urgency to force words or explanations from you. Just his presence, calm and grounding, allowing you to gather your thoughts.

You nodded slowly, not trusting yourself to speak just yet. The memory of Jungkook’s desperate grip on you, the way he had refused to let you go, still lingered, and it was too raw to put into words. But Yoongi didn’t push. He never did. He was just… there, giving you the space to process, to breathe. “I owe it to all of you. This was all my fault…”

Yoongi’s gaze shifted toward you, and for a moment, he looked at you as though you’d just said something utterly ridiculous. His brow furrowed, and the corners of his lips tilted into a frown of disbelief. Then, with a sigh, he shook his head. “This isn’t your fault. How could you have known? Don’t be so hard on yourself.”

Min Yoongi was just the reprieved you needed. Where the others seemed consumed by their need for you, Yoongi remained steady, unaffected by the storm raging around them.

He took you home and told you that he already took care of your supervisor and said that you were needed for a meeting. A wave of gratitude washed over you, and you couldn’t help the small, tired smile that tugged at your lips. You didn’t know how to thank him properly, but it seemed Yoongi didn’t need grand gestures. His way of caring was quiet and understated, but it spoke volumes.

“Thank you,” you whispered, your voice barely above a breath, but Yoongi’s small nod told you he heard it.

Your schedule with him was calm, much like his demeanor. The kitchen felt like a small sanctuary, the aroma of garlic and herbs wafting through the air as you chopped vegetables together. The music of your choice filled the space, a playful backdrop to the evening.

You smiled to yourself, caught up in the moment. Suddenly, a chuckle broke your reverie. You turned to see him shaking his head, amusement dancing in his eyes. “Bad Romance by Lady Gaga?” he teased, but there was no edge to his words—just a warm acceptance of your quirky taste. You shrugged, a grin spreading across your face. It felt domestic, this shared moment, and you savored it. And yes, Bad Romance was truly a banger song.

But then, the atmospere shifted. Lost in thought, you almost missed his sudden remark. “I heard from Hoseok that your friend found a cure for the love potion.” His voice was steady, almost indifferent, yet you caught the tension in the way he gripped the counter, knuckles whitening against the cool surface. His eyes were focused on his task, a deliberate action on his part.

You nodded, surely this was good news for them, right?

“That’s…good.”

It did not sound like it was good. You considered asking him, pressing for clarity, but you hesitated. This was Yoongi, after all. He wasn’t a man who wore his emotions on his sleeve, and pushing too hard might cause him to withdraw further. But your instinct, the one that had kept you grounded in moments like this, told you to be careful. You trusted him, both him and Seokjin, but trust was a fragile thing—especially when it came to the men who surrounded you.

After you two finished cooking, he found you sitting on the sofa, mindlessly searching for what to watch when he lied down, his head resting on your legs. You looked down, surprised but not displeased. You noted how he refrained from physically touching you the past hour, his control and thoughtfulness of your situation did not go unnoticed by you. “I tried to hold off as long as I could,” he murmured, his eyes drifting closed as he settled in.

You chuckled softly, brushing a hand through his dark hair. “Thank you for being considerate, Yoongi.” The weight of his head on your lap felt grounding, a connection that made the world outside seem distant.

It was five in the afternoon when you decided to freshen up. The entire day, despite it being only being afternoon, left you exhausted. It wasn’t just the physical exhaustion that clawed at you; it was the emotional toll of navigating conversations that felt more like tightrope walks than exchanges. Each word had to be measured, each response carefully calculated. It was like it would only take one wrong word for them to crumble. Each of them just as needy as the others.

It did not come as a surprise when you stepped out of the bathroom and found the one and only Park Jimin in your bedroom. His head was hanging low as he sat on your bed, his form slouched as he stared down. Gone was his suit, and his necktie hung loosely around his collar as though he had spent the entire day tugging at it.

“Jimin?”

Slowly, he looked up. His dark eyes were impassive, the usual glint gone. He looked so far from the sweet persona he usually had, and in his place was a man that was emitting dangerous vibes. “Little one,” he called, his voice low and toneless. “I heard your...” he trailed off, his scoffed a telltale sign of what exactly he was feeling. “-friend found us a cure.”

You blinked owlishly, caught off guard with how displeased he looked. He raised his brow at your prolonged silence, “What’s wrong, honey?” He stood up and sauntered to you, his faux concern so thick that you could almost choke at it. “All seven of us are sick from that love potion, right? So it’s only correct that we get the ‘cure’, right?”

You looked up to meet his eyes as he neared you, his chest almost touching yours from his proximity. “Are we sick to you, little one?”

“I—” you started, your heart beating fast from his line of questioning. The intensity of his line of questioning made your pulse quicken. He tilted his head, his finger catching droplets of water that had escaped from your hair, trailing slowly down your neck.

“Hmm? You what?” His voice was low, teasing yet laced with something darker.

“I just want you all to return to your normal life,” you answered truthfully. “I know everything happening is not normal for any of you. Your life does not involve around…” You hesitated, searching for the right words. “This chaos. You deserve to be free.”

He paused with his ministration, his hand hovering near your chest. A flicker of something crossed his face and you failed to decipher whether it was from amusement or annoyance. He stepped even impossibly closer. He looked down at you and whispered something that terrified you. “Did you ask us if we want to go back to how it was? Little one, did you even ask if we need a cure?”

Involuntarily, your foot took a step back. The weight of his words came crushing down on you. You were shaking your head even before he could finish saying his piece. You thought that it was a ridiculous thought anyway. “You don’t know what you’re saying, Park Jimin. None of what you’re all feeling is real,” you implored him, willing his true self to understand what you were saying, and not the version of himself that was ‘in love’ with you. “This potion-it’s not who you are.”

His gaze held steady, dark and penetrating as though what you said set off something in him…something they all tried so hard to contain. “And what will you do if this is who we want to be? What if we want these versions of ourselves that are so utterly in love with you, little one? What then?”

You felt your breath hitched at every word and expose he was telling you. “But it’s a lie. You can’t love something or someone that’s been forced upon you. This isn’t love. You have to know that.”

It was a little while before he even responded again as silence enveloped the room. The only indication that he heard you was that subtle tilt in his head. “I see you still see all this as lovesickness and not destiny.”

“Because it is!” you insisted, the desperation for him to see the truth made your voice rose. “You can’t really believe that this is meant to be!”

Jimin shook his head, strands of his hair cascading on his forehead, breaking the carefully gelled up appearance of his. “You’ll get sick, too,” he whispered as though it was an omen, as though foretelling a fate that even you couldn’t comprehend.

But you would later on.

You heard him wrong…right? There was no way he said that.

“What?” The word came out as breathless gasp, disbelief flooding your senses.

He smiled innocently, the sudden playfulness in his expression felt like a mask. “Let me dry your hair before you get sick, little one.” His tone may have seemed so casual, yet it sent a shiver down your spine. You knew you couldn’t talk sense into him, not when the seven of them were neck-deep in the effects of that love potion. Furthermore, you knew that insisting that what they were all feeling was far from reality would only leave them feeling abandoned by the supposedly love of their lives: you. You couldn’t make them see reason, at least not now.

Right now, the only way to calm down the simmering annoyance and angst in him was to let him do what he wanted to do. Jimin was gentle and thorough as he dried your hair, his touch so soft as though you were made of porcelain, something he feared might shatter.

“See how good I take care of you, little one? How good we all treat you?” he murmured, his voice particularly low and soothing as he worked the towel through your damp locks.

You felt your heart ache at the sincerity in his words, even if they were colored by the potion’s influence. “Jimin…” you started, but the protest caught in your throat as he leaned in closer, the warmth of his body enveloping you. He met your eyes through the mirror, his chin resting on your shoulder and rush of warmth and happiness passed through him. He fucking loved you, he thought to himself as an even fiercer conviction took root. You would see it soon.

“You are our queen, my love,” he continued with fierce intensity. “Don’t you see?”

But if this was love, then it felt like a prison to you. The sensation of his arms wrapped around you felt less like an embrace and more like shackles, binding you to a reality that terrified you. The walls felt as if they were closing in, the weight of his affection pressing down on your chest. You felt it even more when he placed his plump lips on your neck.

“And we will always sacrifice everything for our queen.”

As soon as the clock hit 7 in the evening, you tore yourself away from his embrace and ran down to the living room, already typing down on your phone to call for a meeting with the boys when you saw them already sitting there. They seemed to be in a deep conversation, their voices low and their faces serious. Sitting in the middle of them all was Kim Namjoon who had his eyes closed and his head resting against the backrest of the sofa. He looked similar to how he was when he trapped you in the elevator. He almost seemed to be sleeping had it not been the slight tremors in his hands that gave it away.

It was as though they were attuned to your presence when they all turned their heads to where you were, sans Namjoon, their conversation coming into a halt. It was eerie, you thought. You felt a shiver run down your spine at the synchronized movement, as if they were all part of some unsettling choreography.

“There she is,” Hoseok said brightly his face lighting up with a happiness that seemed almost out of place in the tense atmosphere. On his lap was your cat who was sporting a new collar. And was that gold?! “How was your day, little one?”

“We need to talk.”

“Uh-oh,” Taehyung plainly commented, his hand absentmindedly playing with Jungkook’s hair. His carefree gesture was a complete contrast to the seriousness in his face. “I already don’t like this.”

“Park Jimin, what did you do now?” Yoongi quipped, raising an eyebrow as he caught sight of the mentioned man entering the living room behind you. There was a teasing lilt in his voice, but the underlying concern was palpable.

Jimin smirked, holding your hand briefly when he passed you and sat down beside the quiet Namjoon. “Nothing. I just…dried her hair.”

Jin shook his head, shooting the maknae line a look of disappointment. He just knew that they did something today. Afterall, he thought that the younger men didn’t know the meaning of control and working in the shadows. He would talk to them later. They should have known how much of a flight risk you were. They were just banking on the kindness of your heart and how they used it to play with your conscience. It was that and Namjoon and Hoseok’s tactics that got you here, after all. They should all play smartly if they wanted this to last forever. And for now, making you happy was the way to that. He stood up and walked to you. He tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear. “I heard from Hoseok that there is a cure. Is this about it, my love?”

“Let’s hear it then, noona,” Jungkook said with a smile on your face. It was a deceitful smile, you noted to yourself. How he could turn his playfulness and innocence on and off was terrifying, and the evidence of it was staring right at your face. You looked down and saw his bandaged hand from the breakdown from earlier.

Yoongi offered you an encouraging smile and you were only too thankful for his quiet support. You didn’t think twice to sit when he tapped down the empty space beside him. “A-as you all know, my friend’s grandmother knows of a cure in the mountains-”

Taehyung’s sharp scoffed interrupted you. “You’re tired of taking care of your mess when it’s only been a day?” His tone may be playful, but there was an edge to it.

You took a dee breath, “I know this is all difficult for all of us. But if she knows something, if there is even a small chance that there is really a cure, then shouldn’t we go for it? If this can help-”

“Help us?” Jimin interjected, his tone softer but laced with frustration. “Help us how? By running off to the mountains while we’re all here struggling with these feelings?”

“And how will we even know that you’ll come back to us?” Hoseok added, his anger bubbling to the surface. “What if you just leave?” he voiced the heavy question everyone in the room had been thinking about, not that they would let you, anyway.

The atmosphere grew tense, and you could feel the weight of their accusations pressing down on you. “It isn’t fair,” you retorted, your voice trembling slightly.

“Well, it was never fair to the seven of us,” Taehyung shot back, his tone sharp. “We were minding our own business when your negligence caused us this situation. You are to blame, and all you want is to escape from it.”

You could no longer take all the blamings, you realized. You were not the only one to blame in this, right? You were just as victim as they were! And the oldest should also share the blame! “But he knew!”

Seokjin blinked owlishly, attention now on him as you pointed your finger at him. “Knew what?”

“You knew that that pink tumbler wasn’t yours! You said so yourself that you knew it wasn’t yours because yours had coffee in it! You knew and you kept on drinking!”

“Ah, right” he chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck as he offered sheepish looks at the other CEOs who were all looking at him with seriousness and disbelief in their eyes. “What? It was delicious, right?!”

“Well, yeah it was,” Yoongi approved, his voice low. He looked like he was already long done with this conversation with the way he was leaning against the backrest and you knew with just one push he would already be lying down and dozing off. However, his attention was still on you as he played with the strands of your hair.

“So, if you are all blaming me, shouldn’t you put blame on him, too? He offered you the drink knowing that it wasn’t his! And he didn’t tell you all!”

Jungkook nodded, completely agreeing at whatever you were saying as long as you kept talking. Your voice was melody to his ears, like a siren, he thought. If he was a cartoon, you were sure that he’d already have heart coming out of his eyes from the way he was looking at you. He was giggling like a child, his chin resting on his palm, his body turned to you. “You’re right, noona. It’s Jin hyung’s fault. We should kick him out of the house or exchange him for ice cream…Speaking of! What’s your favorite flavor, my love?”

“Fine! Then sue me! Arrest me! But lock me with her forever!” Seokjin exclaimed dramatically, throwing his hands in the air.

“Seokjin, for the love of all that’s good-“

“I love it when you call me that,” he said with sincerity in his voice.

“I literally just called you your name!” you shot back in exasperation.

“Yes. That. I love it.”

“Oh my God, we’re getting off track!” You exclaimed in frustration. “The cure. It’s worth pursuing, don’t you all think? Isn’t that why I’m here in the first place? To alleviate the effects of the love potion?”

You knew you had them when they looked at each other in silence. “And what’s more alleviating than actually freeing us all from the effects of that potion?” you continued, your voice steady, determined. “If we have a chance to break this spell—if we can find a way to return to our normal lives—shouldn’t we take it?”

“You’re not going alone. We are coming with you,” Kim Namjoon broke his silence for the first time that night. You couldn’t help but notice the strain in his voice despite the firm way he delivered his demand, a telltale sign that he needed you now. It was already past seven, and he was the last one in the schedule. It was already way past his schedule, and he had been patient and enduring enough. He just knew that anytime now he would break. He opened his eyes, and his gaze locked onto yours, “Tomorrow. We go to the mountains.”

Before anyone could respond, he stood up swiftly, his long legs carrying him away from the eruption of chaos and disagreement that erupted from his statement. The others began to voice their objections, a flurry of protests filling the room.

Yet, he never stopped.

“You know you have to come to him, right, noona?” Jungkook said amidst the chaos. “Namjoon hyung is suffering…”

“He has been patient,” Hoseok added, admiring the strength and resolved that their lead CEO had. “But he needs you, too.”

The walk to his room was long despite the reasonable distance. It must have been because of the rapid beating of your heart as you walked to the unknown. The six of them all showed their dark side, the possessive, obsessive and jealous side that terrified you. You wondered what the last member would show you tonight.

But they were right.

Despite your fear and restlessness, you had to honor your responsibility with them.

Your knuckles had barely grazed his door when it opened from the inside, revealing the disheveled lead CEO.

Kim Namjoon was breathing hard despite the cool air inside his room. The usually composed lead CEO looked disheveled and visible exhausted. Beads of sweat were forming on his forehead, strands of his dark hair tousled as if his fingers had raked through them in frustration. He had already donned out his dark suit, his white and crisp shirt was unbuttoned. His muscular chest was glistening with sweat. Your eyes traced his form and found him barefooted.

This was as unmade as you ever witnessed him to be.

You were right, you realized. Kim Namjoon suffered the most today as he was the last one in the schedule. The way he was looking at you made it seemed like you were nothing to him but a prey, one that he had been desperately hunting the whole day. His silence only made you more tensed. "Namjoon," you began softly, concern evident in your voice as you stepped closer despite wanting to run away. "Are you alright?"

Instead of a reassuring answer, his demeanor shifted. His answer was pulling you inside his lair. His movements were quick. Desperate. Frantic. The sound of lock clicking loudly in the quiet of the room. This wasn't the controlled man you were accustomed to—this was someone else entirely, someone driven by raw instinct and need.

Every step he took towards you was a step you took backwards. He was sauntering to you like a predator would, his movements slow and deliberate like someone who knew had you trapped. His muscles were tensed like he was barely holding onto his control. His eyes, usually so warm, now bore into you with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. You could feel the tension radiating from him, his body coiled like a spring about to snap. You had an inkling that he wasn’t okay, but you never expected him to be this intense, this desperate.

"N-Namjoon, please," you stammered, your concern growing as his presence overwhelmed you, "You’re not okay. Let me get some help, okay?"

He scoffed softly, a sound that dripped with frustration and desire. The truth was plain to see—he wasn't just physically spent; there was something deeper unsettling him, something that demanded your presence, your touch, as if you were the anchor he desperately needed.

He knew if he didn’t have you in his arms in the next second, then he would truly lose it. He was desperate for you. And so, for the first time ever, he damned the consequences.

“Take off your clothes.”

“What?! No-“

“I need to feel your skin or I will fucking lose it, little one,” he gritted, his hands formed into fists in an attempt to ground him. He didn’t want to scare you, that was the last thing he wanted.

But he was scaring himself. The dizzying need for you was terrifying him. Dark thoughts were swirling in his mind: all of them were of losing you. He didn’t know what would happen if they lost you. He didn’t know what they would be capable of if you had someone else.

The only thing that could calm him down was you. But you were stubborn, weren’t you? He saw your eyes darted to the door behind him, assessing the probability that you could escape him. It wouldn’t happen, he was certain. Not in the state he was in.

“Don’t,” he whispered with a shake of his head. “Don’t test me tonight, little one. I am barely holding it in.”

“You’re scaring me,” you whispered in admittance, your eyes begging him to be sane, to at least reach the Namjoon inside him that knew this was a grey area.

He paused in front of you. he was breathing hard and his eyes seemed to be all dark. His voice was low as he explained his need for you and his promise that the two of you would only be sleeping.

Tonight, he claimed that you would be safe.

“I won’t ask again, little one,” he whispered as he looked down at you. “Remove your clothes and get on the bed.”

“And we’ll just sleep?”

“Yes.”

“You promise?”

He nodded. What he didn’t tell you was how he wasn’t sure if you could still be safe from the monsters you woke up inside them tomorrow. But that was tomorrow’s problem.

His eyes followed your every reluctant movement as you walked near to his bed. This was all so sudden, and the darkness of the room didn’t help you observe his personality that was reflected in his room. However, you were thankful for the darkness because it gave you the courage to do as he bade without the full weight of his gaze on you. Shadows danced across the walls and with a shaky breath, you finally sat on the edge of the bed, the sheets soft and inviting beneath you. The room, dimly lit by the soft glow of the moon filtering through the curtains, seemed to wrap around you like a comforting shroud. It was easier to let the shadows obscure your uncertainties.

You began to remove your shirt, your heart racing as you felt his eyes on you, the intensity palpable. The fabric slipped away, leaving you feeling vulnerable yet exhilarated.

“The shorts, little one,” he ordered quietly, his eyes still on you as he shrugged of his white shirt. He raised his brows when a flicker of stubbornness crossed your face, a silent warning that he was at the very edge of a cliff. With shaky hands, you pushed off your shorts before quickly getting under his thick blanket, hiding your exposed skin from his eyes.

Your heard the buckle of his belt coming undone, and the sound of zipper following next was too loud in the silence of his room which made you shut your eyes closed. But the prolonged silence made you take a peek. And there he was. He was stalking to you, his muscular chest bared for your eyes, his thighs so thick and strong. The only thing he still had on was his black boxers that leave nothing to the imagination.

You shrieked when he got on the bed confidently and flipped the blanket to the side, baring your body to him, both his arms encasing you as he hovered above you.

“N-Namj–” your words left you when he settled his weight on you, every ridges and corners of his body was touching you. His nose was on your neck, breathing in your scent. His hands moved from the side of your head down to your wrist, and everything he touched left goosebumps on your skin. “Don’t fight this,” he whispered as he pulled your wrist above your head and kept them prisoned there.

“Y-you told me we’re just going to sleep,” you reminded him, your voice shaking slightly as you felt the heat radiating from Namjoon’s body. The tension in the air felt electric, and your heart raced.

“I told you. You are safe with me tonight.”

His hard member certainly did not make you feel safe. You could feel his hardness poking your stomach, and you were no saint to not know what it meant. You were certainly not that innocent to not be affected by this. You were embarrassed with how you could feel your arousal seeping to your underwear, and you hoped that he wouldn’t notice.

You jumped when you felt his tongue swiped at the expanse of your neck. You were trying to free yourself away from his hold when he nipped at your skin, sucking at it hard enough to know that it was going to leave a mark. All the while, his hips were slowly thrusting to you as though he was barely holding onto his thin control.

“Do you not feel safe, little one?” he taunted, his voice deeper than you ever heard of him. He lifted his head from your neck, his dark eyes glinting with something akin to an animalistic desire to have you. “Is the pleasure too much for you?” he asked in faux concern before thrusting his clothed cock directly to your heat. And by heavens, a moan escaped you. “Or is it not enough?”

“F-fuck, Namjoon- please!” you gasped as his hand pinched your nipple over your bra. His lips hovered over yours, so impossibly close that you knew one wrong movement was enough to make yours touched his. His cock was brutal as he humped you.

“Don’t you feel safe with the desires you are feeling?” he whispered directly to your ear, his hot breath leaving tingles down your spine. “Don’t you feel safe with just one cock? Do you want me to call the six of them? I bet they’d be happy to make you come. I know Yoongi does.”

“S-stop!”

He chuckled, his thrust stopping altogether. “Little one, you’re free. You can push me anytime you want. But you don’t want to, do you?”

It was only when he pointed it out that you realized he was no longer holding you down. In fact, he hadn’t for a while. You were too drunk with the sinful desire and his primal need to be with you that you didn’t notice that you had the choice to push him away.

And the horrifying realization that you deliberately didn’t want him to stop came crashing in.

“Don’t you just want to give in? I promise…no one will know. It’s just the two of us,” he whispered seductively, his breath warm against your skin. The way his words wrapped around you felt almost hypnotic, stirring something deep within. “Turn that mind off, darling. You’re so fucking wet,” he growled sensually. “I can feel your wetness in my thighs. You deserve this, little one. You deserve to be worship. All you need to do is to move.”

Your heart raced at the intensity of his gaze, each word wrapping around you like a vice. There was a part of you that yearned to give in, to surrender to the pull between you.

And you did.

Your hips lifted slightly to meet his, and it was all he needed before he rutted on you, the control he had snapped like a twig when you took the first step. You could feel you were getting close, his movements were all unforgiving and sensual.

“See?” he growled, his voice low and intense, sending shivers down your spine. “I just want to take care of you, little love. We all just want to give you all you desire.” He stepped closer, the heat radiating off him like a tangible force, drawing you in. “I told you. You are safe with me. But you aren’t safe from your own desires.”

You could feel something hot, something with urgency. And it wasn’t long until you shuddered, you trashed with your back arched. And just like clockwork, Namjoon’s warm essence spurted out and onto his boxers.

“That’s it, little one. Good girl.”

And as he held your body in his arms that night, he lied awake with thoughts of how to keep you. You were so beautiful. And perfect for him. You were perfect for them. He was sure that all of his brothers were thinking of the same thing: how to keep you forever.

Day 4, morning

It didn’t come as a surprise when he woke up and found you gone, nor did it come as a surprise when you couldn’t meet his eyes when he came down early in the morning ready to leave for the mountains. Seokjin, ever the observant, noticed the tension between the two of you. Actually, it was more so from you as you tried your very best to stick with who you thought was the safest among the seven, Seokjin and Yoongi.

Seokjin, with his soft smile and easygoing charm, had managed to pull the wool over your eyes. How could you have known that Seokjin was a wolf in a sheep’s clothing while Yoongi was only patient until he wasn’t? How could you have known that they were truly far from who you thought they were?

The maknae line were already waiting by the door, talking animatedly among themselves as though all of you were just going to the mountains for a fun fieldtrip and not for the love potion cure.

It was Hoseok that broke the silence, “How was your sleep, little one?”

“G-good,” you stammered, your eyes lifting to meet the lead CEO’s gaze, only to find him already looking back at you with an intensity that made your heart race. You quickly looked down, feeling the heat rush to your cheeks. “L-let’s go? It’s quite a far drive.”

You swallowed hard, trying to shake off the knot of tension in your stomach. The closer you got to the mountains, the more real the journey felt, and the more daunting the implications of finding a cure. You turned to Namjoon, who stood nearby, arms crossed and expression unreadable. “Are we ready?”

It took him a moment to answer, as though weighing your question with care, his eyes lingering on you in a way that felt too heavy for casual conversation. The air between you felt thick, charged with something unspoken, and the silence stretched on, longer than it should have. “Always ready,” he replied, though the weight of his gaze suggested he had more on his mind than just the drive ahead.

You sat quietly the whole journey. The feeling of freedom was so near, yet the implications of what happened the past three days weighed down on you. You knew things could never go back the way it was. You knew you had to leave your job and move someplace else. Despite the possibility of a cure, you knew that everything that transpired was far more complex that a simple remedy couldn’t fix.

You glanced around the van, taking in the familiar faces of the men who had turned your world upside down. This was probably one of the last times you’d be in their proximity, and that thought sent a shiver down your spine. You felt both relieved and terrified at the prospect.

It was as though Seokjin, the designated driver, could hear your thoughts. He glanced up into the rearview mirror and met your eyes, concern flickering in his expression. “You okay back there?” he asked, his voice steady but laced with something deeper, an awareness of your internal struggle.

You offered a small smile, not quite reaching your eyes. “I’m good,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

You looked down at the address your friend gave you. The mountains loomed in the distance; their imposing silhouettes framed by a clear blue sky. You could hear the faint rustle of leaves in the cool breeze, a stark contrast to the tension that had built up during the drive.

Namjoon was off to the side, deep in conversation with an elderly man. You couldn’t help but catch snippets of their dialogue—words like “cure” and “love potion” floated through the air, drawing your attention. You watched as the man gestured toward a narrow, winding path leading deeper into the woods.

After a few moments, Namjoon turned back to you, a satisfied smile on his face. “We have to walk. The car cannot pass through,” he shared the information with the group.

You nodded, feeling a mix of anxiety and excitement. “How far is it?”

“Not too far, just a little hike,” he assured you, though his eyes held a glimmer of seriousness. “Are you ready?”

Taking a deep breath, you glanced at the rest of the group, who had gathered around. The maknae line looked eager, bouncing on their feet as if they were about to embark on a thrilling quest. Yoongi leaned against a tree, his expression contemplative, while Seokjin was busy checking the supplies they brought along.

“Yeah, I’m ready,” you replied, your voice steadier than you felt. “Let’s do this.”

It was almost an hour into the hike, and your little group was nearing the top when you saw it. “That must be it,” Hoseok said, pointing excitedly at the small house perched on the summit. It looked quaint, surrounded by trees and flowers, with smoke curling from the chimney, hinting at warmth and life within. For a moment, the sight was serene—peaceful even. But there was something about it that made your skin prickle, a sense of wrongness you couldn’t quite shake. The beauty of it felt... too perfect. Like an illusion meant to distract. A narrow pathway led to a flight of stairs, and just as you felt a rush of exhilaration, a pained gasp broke the tranquility.

You turned around to see Jungkook wincing, his hand clutching his ankle. “Jungkook!” you exclaimed, rushing to his side. He was sitting on the ground, his face contorted in pain, his doe eyes looking up at you as though he was asking for help. Beside him, Jimin crouched down, his innocent-looking face betraying none of the tension in the air. He looked concerned, but there was something about the calmness in his expression that made you pause—something about the way he was sitting too still, too perfectly for the situation at hand. How he hurt himself when the path was no longer steep like before, nor was the ground slippery was lost on you. You foolishly thought that you were out of the danger zone.

"Jungkook!" you repeated, kneeling beside him, your voice trembling with concern. "What happened?”

“I think I twisted it,” he admitted, his voice strained. “It hurts so bad, noona. P-please stay with me.”

You blinked at his request, your heart aching at the sight of him so vulnerable, but a wave of doubt swept over you. You had to make a decision, and fast. The cure was still ahead of you, and the house at the summit was growing nearer with every step you’d taken. But now, Jungkook was down, and his injury looked serious.

You glanced around, unsure what to do. You could stay with him, of course, but you weren’t the only one in the group, and there were others who might be able to help him. Maybe someone else should stay with him while you continued on to the house? Just as you were about to ask Taehyung, Namjoon stepped near you and interrupted your thoughts.

“Stay with Jungkook,” Namjoon urged you, glancing back at the house. “We can take care of the cure. Don’t worry.”

You hesitated, torn between the urgency of reaching the house and your concern for Jungkook. His face was twisted in pain, and you felt a pang of guilt for even considering leaving him. But the reassuring nod from Seokjin was enough to convince you that the men could handle the cure without you.

“Okay,” you finally said, your voice steadying. “I’ll stay here with Jungkook.”

As you knelt beside him, your focus solely on his ankle, you completely missed the meaningful look shared between Taehyung and Yoongi, a silent conversation that hinted at something more.

“Just take a deep breath, Jungkook,” you said, gently placing a hand on his knee. “Let’s see if we can wrap this up.”

The six men trudged up the pathway leading to the small house in companiable silence when Seokjin suddenly stopped, halting the progress of the six men following him. They were almost near the house that his sudden pause caused confusion to the maknae line. It was a moment before he turned to face the group.

“Hyung?” Jimin asked, his brows furrowed. “What’s wrong?”

Seokjin and Yoongi shared a meaningful look, their jaws set in stone and expression serious. “Taehyung and Jimin, I think you should stay guard here,” he said, his voice low and firm.

“Hyung, what if you need us there-”

Namjoon, who was quick to notice the peculiar seriousness in their eldest placed a reassuring hand on Taehyung’s shoulder and faced him. He flashed him a dimpled smile as though assuring him that everything was fine. “I think what hyung means is that this way, you can look out for little one and Jungkook.”

He tilted his head slightly, catching sight of you and Jungkook, a little ways down the path, peering curiously at the house.

“Don’t worry, we can handle this,” Hoseok assured the two age-mate with his charm. He gave a playful nudge to Taehyung as he stepped past them, confidence radiating from his every move. “Just keep an eye out, okay?”

With that, Hoseok entered the house, the door creaking softly behind him. The rest of the older members followed, leaving the maknae line standing in the fading light.

You didn’t have to wait long before the six of them descended the path, their expressions were mixed of triumph and satisfaction, and something that you couldn’t quite pinpoint. It wasn’t even that long when the six of them walked down to you. Yoongi led the way, a confident stride in his step, and in his hand was a small bottle filled with a shimmering pink liquid.

Your heart raced as you caught sight of it. “Is that—?”

“It’s the cure, little one,” he confirmed, holding it up to the light. The liquid sparkled, catching the sun in a way that made it almost mesmerizing, almost tantalizing, almost too hypnotic that you couldn’t tear your eyes away from it.

You felt your heart leap in your chest. The weight of the world seemed to lift off your shoulders, and a wave of disbelief rushed through you. You could barely comprehend it, but there it was. “We’re free…” you said with disbelief in your tone. You were too happy that you jumped up and hugged Jungkook. “I cannot believe it!”

“Well, almost, little one,” Namjoon said, his expression shifting to something more serious. “We’ll take it at home where we can safely observe the effects. We can’t risk anything happening here.”

The words hit you like a splash of cold water. For a moment, the excitement faltered, and a small knot of worry tugged at your stomach. You had been so caught up in the euphoria of it all that you hadn’t stopped to consider the reality of it. There were still risks, still unknowns.

“Aren’t you just a little too excited about leaving us, little one?” His words were offhanded, but there was an undercurrent of something else, something you couldn’t quite place.

Your eyes darted to him, surprised by the sudden comment. Jimin’s gaze was still fixed on his nails, as though the conversation were of no consequence to him. But there was a subtle tension around him, something in his posture that didn’t quite sit right.

Instead of dwelling too much in what he was enunciating, you decided to face Namjoon. “Right, of course,” you said, stepping back from Jungkook and if you noticed the reluctant way he let go of you, you didn’t mention. You rationalized that they were still under the influence of the potion. You just had to hold on a little bit more.

Seokjin clapped his hands together, breaking the tension. “Then let’s get moving! The sooner we’re back, the sooner we can celebrate properly.”

The ride back to the civilization was filled with different vibes, it was quiet yet there was a profound peace within the group. This time, it was Jungkook who was driving while Taehyung was in the front seat with him. Seated next to you was Yoongi who was quietly contented in engulfing your hand in his, both your hands resting on his thighs. On your other side was Hoseok who was uncharacteristically quiet until he caught you looking at him.

“J-Jin, this is a lot,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper as you took in the lavish spread laid out on the table. Plates piled high with vibrant dishes, each one more mouthwatering than the last, sparkled under the soft glow of the lights. It was hard to believe he had managed to prepare all this while looking like he just stepped off a magazine cover.

“I want to celebrate us,” Jin replied, his smile warm and genuine.

You blinked owlishly, caught off guard. Us? What did he mean by that?

“You know, how we…survived this.” His eyes sparkled with sincerity, but confusion washed over you. You opened your mouth to ask him to elaborate, to clarify what “us” really meant, when suddenly, Taehyung appeared beside you. He leaned in so close that his lips almost brushed your ear, his voice teasingly conspiratorial.

“Hyung is so dramatic. He wants to do a big toast before drinking the cure.”

You missed the look the two men shared over your head when Jimin walked in and tugged you to sit next to him and Yoongi. “Come on, little one. I’m starving.”

One by one, the four other men took their seats around the beautifully set table. Directly across from you was Taehyung who was watching you intently, and beside him were Hoseok and Jungkook. On the other end of the table was Namjoon, manspreading like a king sitting in his throne. Seokjin moved gracefully around the table, setting down seven glasses that glinted like jewels, each filled with the pink liquid of the cure slushing around with every step. Your breath caught slightly as he approached, and when he stopped behind you, leaning down close, a shiver ran through you.

“And of course, for the lady. Only the best of wines,” he whispered, his breath warm against your ear, leaving goosebumps in its wake. You turned slightly, catching a glimpse of his serious and dark expression before he straightened, and just like that, he transformed it into a sweet smile that lit up the room. You wondered if it was just the light playing tricks on you.

“Hyung, ready for the toast?” Jungkook asked, his eyes on you even as he directed his question to Namjoon.

“I think it should be our little one that we ask,” Yoongi spoke for the first time that night, his tone unexpectedly serious. He turned to you, his eyes piercing through the moment, as if trying to read your thoughts. “Are you ready for what comes next?”

You felt a knot form in your stomach, a mixture of excitement and anxiety churning inside you. “Are you ready… for the rest of your life, love?” Taehyung voiced, his expression uncharacteristically solemn as he toyed with his glass, tracing the rim with his fingertip.

You blinked owlishly, wondering why there were too many questions from them as though they were asking something else. But they weren’t, right? They weren’t implying anything more, were they?

You wanted your old life back.

You wanted your freedom back.

With a steadying breath, you raised your glass of wine, a quiet resolve settling over you. “To our freedom,” you declared, your voice clear despite the whirlwind of emotions.

Namjoon smirked, a fondness in his eyes as he confidently raised his glass in response. “To you, little one.”

“To us,” Seokjin added, his voice warm as he joined the toast, and one by one, the others followed suit.

You all drank to the last sip of your drinks, the sweet, fruity flavor of the wine lingering on your tongue. Seokjin’s gaze remained fixed on you, his watchful eyes never leaving your face as he set down his empty glass. There was an intensity in his stare, an unspoken question hanging in the air, as if he were waiting for something to unfold.

And he waited.

And waited.

Until it happened.

You felt the warmth of the wine spreading through your body, a comforting buzz that made everything feel lighter, more vibrant. But in the back of your mind, there was a nagging sensation, a whisper that something wasn’t quite right. The room began to tilt slightly, chatter of the CEOs was fading into a soft murmur. “S-something’s not right,” you whispered, turning to your ever dependable Yoongi, the one who never put you down.

Your hand was clutching his sleeves, yet he paid you no mind. You swallowed hard, feeling the weight of the liquid in you, and that nagging sensation began to twist in your gut. The wine—was it the wine? The warmth, the lightness, the almost too comfortable feeling that was settling into your bones—had it been too easy? Too perfect?

“W- what was in t-that w-wine?” You asked shakily, barely a whisper, your eyes finding Seokjin’s apathetic ones.

He waited.

“Seokjin…” you breathed out, your voice barely a whisper, as the fear settled in your chest like a stone.

He didn’t answer. Instead, he simply stared at you, his expression unreadable as his fingers lightly drummed against the table, almost too casual, too relaxed.

The realization hit you like a gut punch: This wasn’t a celebration. This was a trap.

Your vision blurred, and you struggled to focus, the faces of Jungkook, Taehyung, Hoseok, and Namjoon becoming indistinct. Slowly, your world faded to black.

The seven men watched you as Yoongi wrapped his arm around you, securing your head to his shoulder as though he didn’t do anything.

“Why… why would you do that, hyung?” Jungkook asked, his voice a mix of confusion and disbelief, eyes wide with shock as he processed the scene.

Yoongi remained focused on you, his other hand gently caressing your face, a gesture of comfort that felt surreal. It was Seokjin, however, who broke the silence, his voice calm and measured as he quietly sliced his food. “She was going to leave us.”

Taehyung’s shock morphed into something deeper, worry etching lines on his forehead as he glanced between the two of them. “We can’t just keep her here!”

“She belongs with us,” Seokjin replied softly, an edge of finality in his tone as he continued to slice his food, unbothered by the tension brewing around him.

“But there is a cure—” Jungkook started, his voice rising in protest.

“There is no cure, Jungkook,” Namjoon interjected smoothly, his form relaxed as he poured himself a glass of whiskey, the amber liquid swirling in the glass like a tempest. “There’s no cure because we aren’t sick.”

“The hyungs are right, Kookie,” Jimin said, his expression softening as he held your hand close to his face, as if trying to draw strength from your presence. “We just love her so much.”

“And now, she’ll love us too just as much,” Hoseok smirked, his gaze darting to the wine you had drunk.

A phone beeping continuously rose Seokjin from his slumber. His eyes fluttered open, and he looked down to find you snuggled peacefully in his arms, your face nestled against his chest. On your other side, Jimin had draped his leg over you, a content smile gracing his lips in his sleep. It was only four in the morning, yet the incessant beeping of your phone pierced the quiet.

You must have been too exhausted to not notice, he noted. Of course, why wouldn’t you be when the seven men showed you just how much they loved you. And this time, you were only too enthusiastic to show them how much you adored them. With a sigh, he reached for your phone and opened your messages, curiosity piquing as he scrolled through the frantic texts.

You have to get out of there, Y/N. The effect of the love potion only lasts for 60 hours!

Y/N, honey, I’m fucking serious. The potion won’t even be effective if they have no feelings for you.

These men are insane. They know you before this, Y/N. You’re in danger there!

Where are you?

Seokjin scoffed, irritation bubbling up within him. He glanced down at your serene expression, blissfully unaware of the turmoil outside this moment. With a few quick taps, he deleted the messages, each one disappearing like smoke. You didn’t need to know.

It didn’t matter how you got here because you were here now.

And they would never, ever let you leave. As you nestled deeper into his side, he pressed a gentle kiss to the crown of your head, determination flaring within him. They would make you see that this was where you belonged, that you were one of them now. There would be no turning back.

More so now that they had access to that love potion. With just a few drops, they could weave the very fabric of your feelings, ensuring you remained anchored to them. They tasted heaven with you. What fool would let that go?

END

632 notes · View notes

apollo1three · 7 months ago

Note

Hello! can I plz request the obey me bros with their children, you can choose if u want them to be their daughter, son or multiple. i just really wanna see them as like dads, like a scenario maybe when they learn to walk or say their first word you dnt have to if you don't want to! and if it's too much can i have just Beel Mammon or Lucifer :3

AHH MY FIRST REQUEST!!! I’m sorry for taking so long! I haven’t checked my dusty musty crusty a$$ inbox in a while ;-; also nonnie u don’t understand how much I love domestic, sappy, fluffy af stuff like this <3<3

Ofc I’ll do all of em, but I’ll do them in parts so you don’t have to wait for me to finish all seven ^^

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An unimaginable type of love (Lucifer x f!reader)

The demon brothers with their babies (1/7)

Demons are not born, he once told you; they manifest – either as a product of great sin or demonic energy. Demons do not feel the need to procreate, they cannot- they do not get pregnant, and they certainly do not give birth.

So how is it that the Morningstar finds himself staring down into sparkling crimson eyes, reminiscent of the deep shade of his, with a softness akin to yours? How is it that he cradles a squirming bundle made from the love between him and his human wife?

With a life only ever dedicated to servitude, Lucifer would’ve never dreamt of creating a family of his own. Never in his time in the celestial realm would he have imagined small, fragile little arms, reaching out for him to hold them in his. Never could he have imagined the possibility of a being regarding him in the sentiment with which he had once regarded Him.

He eyes your sleeping form, snuggled into the comfort of the large bed, and he’s overcome with a fondness that words could not explain the level of. To be loved unconditionally by you, and to be given the most precious gift of all. What had he done to deserve such a thing? - something that was once an unfathomable idea - did he deserve it?

He cradles his daughter in his arms, stroking her little face, and the giggle she lets out is so precious, so much like you, and has him nuzzling his nose into her puffed up little cheeks. You had once light-heartedly complained to him about carrying her in your stomach for nine months, only to have her come out identical to him. Though he'd never admit it, your husband was proud of the notion (at the time, you swore you could see puffed up feathers behind his form), but it was irrefutable how the child carried herself with a poise that was undeniably like yours: a mischievous, yet endearing glint in her eyes that surely meant trouble in the foreseeable future. Lucifer didn’t mind, though.

He mutters, “my darling, what are you doing up so late at night?”, to which his only response is a squeal and few kicks of tiny feet. He tuts back, playfully. “So noisy, my love. Won’t you let your mother sleep?”

There’s a slight breeze from the open balcony, and he gets up from his side of the bed with your daughter rocking gently in his grasp. “Let’s go outside for a bit, come now.”

The way he carries her is careful, protective, and much more assured than the way he had first carried her after her birth. He wasn’t used to dealing with humans, let alone any living thing, in their infancy. Angels and demons did not have an infantile period, and it shook him inwardly the first time he held her, so small and breakable. You, a fully grown human woman, were fragile enough as is – but a human infant? It took some stern reassurance that the child he considered so small and breakable was his just as much as she was yours for his paranoia to waver.

‘She’s ours, Lu.’

(Fatherhood. Such a human experience, and he had only you to thank for it.)

Ushering to the Devildom fireflies, she blows raspberries that makes him want to litter his daughter in even more kisses. So he does, far more unreserved than if it were in front of you (while he loved you and trusted you with his heart and soul, showcasing such unabashed doting was still awkward for new to him). So disgustingly affectionate; the past him would’ve laughed at the notion of such outwards display of emotion directed towards anyone or anything – a hit to his pride, to the very thing he embodied. But to the him right now, such a thought never even crossed his mind.

“Do you see that, my love? Aren’t they pretty?”, he smiles softly, tenderly, eyes creasing at the corners. He pokes at her mouth, now endlessly razzing. “Alright, who taught you to do that? Was it Uncle Mammon? Belphie?"

To the him right now, his pride was in the form of his beautiful wife, and his darling little girl.

“Daddy will always protect you two, I swear on it.”

Absentmindedly stroking her head, a thousand thoughts run through his head. He contemplates heading back inside as the wind picks up, worried you might be getting cold. You’ve been all over the baby since she arrived (and even before then, too), insisting that her crib be placed in the both of your bedroom (much to Asmodeus’s chagrin, adamant that your old room would make the most beautiful human-realm-esque nursery) – while your motherliness was extremely attractive (or rather, all of you), and despite your daughter being an unusually well-behaved little thing, you deserved some quality rest.

He heads back, moving to lower her into her pink-embellished, Avatar of Lust™, crib, but freezes.

“Da..da!”

His movements are miniscule, microscopic, as he looks down at the cooing and giggling tot.

“Say- say that again, darling.”

“Dada!”

Time seems to slow, and he’s overcome with so much fondness, so much love.

“Haha! That’s right, here’s Dada..!” He practically throws her up into the air, accompanied by more squeaky giggles, and if anyone asks: no- his eyes don’t water (it’s merely the brightness of the Devildom moon).

Amidst childish laughter, she says it once more.

He lets out a shaky laugh of disbelief. His eyebrows are furrowed, and there's an uncharacteristically toothy grin on his face. Slowly, trembling hands (a fault of the temperature, obviously, despite him once mentioning the immunity of demons to things as 'trivial' as the weather) press his daughter's small body to his chest.

His daughter. His. His daughter. His wife. His brothers. His family.

It was then that he realised, although perhaps he had always known, that the love he felt for you and the life the two of you had created was different from His love. It was unconditional. The sort of love that allowed him to understand Lilith, the sort of love that he would gladly die for, kill for, be destroyed for. The sort of love that was once unattainable, unimaginable, was now closer than ever.

Lucifer wanted to share this moment with you.

“M-MC!”

#obey me lucifer #obey me lucifer x reader #lucifer x reader #obey me #obey me x reader #om lucifer #obey me scenarios #obey me fluff #obey me angst #obey me shall we date #mammon obey me #obey me asmo #obey me asmodeus #obey me belphegor #obey me hcs #obey me headcanons #obey me imagines

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thebigbadbatswife · 4 months ago

Text

In Another Life

Pairing(s): Daemon Targaryen x Valyrian!F!Reader

Summary - Perhaps in another life you and Daemon are destined to be together.

Warnings - Angst, Break up, Hurt/No comfort

A/N - A fic that I found sitting in my drafts that I figured I'd share since I still like it. Note about the Reader: Reader is of Valyrian descent, but is NOT related to either House Targaryen or House Velaryon. As always there is no description of the Reader's appearance so that she is as inclusive as possible. Enjoy!

Word Count - 980

You must have dozed off because when you next open your eyes, the sunlight in your room has changed, your head is resting upon a pillow rather than Daemon's chest and one of the silk sheets is covering you. As you slowly come to your senses, the smell of food fills your nose. Good. You’re starving. You roll onto your back and sit up, letting the covers pool into your lap.

Daemon is by the table already, wearing his shirt and pants, and he’s pouring you both goblets of summer wine. You get up from the bed, the sheet fully falling away now and leaving your naked body exposed once more. It’s hot here in Essos and you see no point in clothes if he’s just going to rip them off of you again. You cross the room, from the bed to the table, and without him looking over his shoulder, he holds your goblet out for you to take it. You bring it to your lips and take a deep drink, humming at the taste. He always chooses the best wines.

You sit down to eat, but he doesn’t join you. You frown as you look up at him. You can feel it now. A change in the air. A tension that wasn’t there before. You’re sure you already know why before he even opens his mouth.

“I must return to Westeros,” he tells you. He’s avoiding looking at you.

“So soon?” you ask. “You’ve barely been here a day.”

“I know, but I cannot leave my brother alone with those Hightower cunts.” Venom drips from his voice and the mood in the room has definitely changed. His anger coming off of him in waves. From outside you can hear Caraxes shrill roar fill the silence.

You understand. You always understand. His brother means a lot to him and he has told you before about those in Westeros who are desperate to marry into House Targaryen so that their children may have a chance at the Iron Throne. You’re disappointed, like you always are when he leaves, but you won’t make him feel anymore guilty than you know he does. So you hide your true feelings and give him a small smile.

“I’ll just have to look forward to next time then.”

He shakes his head. “There doesn’t need to be a next time. You should come to Westeros with me.”

It’s your turn to shake your head, and laugh softly. “Westeros doesn’t like me and I don’t like Westeros,” you say before taking a bite of your meal. It’s true. The people of Westeros, nobles especially, don’t trust a foreigner and you have a very strong distrust of the people there, the maesters being those you distrust the most. There is also the matter of your dragon and her hatred for the dragonpit. After being free for the entirety of her life, she is not interested in being chained and you cannot blame her for that for you feel exactly the same.

“There’s Dragonstone, it’s sat empty for years,” he tells you. “We could go there.”

You frown. While he hasn’t said it yet, you can see what all of this is. Daemon has brought it up before, making whatever this thing between you is more official to the world. You don’t like it. Too many times people have already tried to cage you and can’t help, but, despite your feelings for him, feel like this is similar. Already you feel your walls going back up. Distantly you can hear your dragon roar. You take a deep breath as you set your fork down.

“No. I’m not coming to Westeros with you, whether we stay at Dragonstone or not.” you meet his gaze, expression serious. “I’ve already made a life here in Essos. I won’t leave it just because you ask me to. There’s nothing for me in Westeros.”

You know you’re words are harsh, but they’re supposed to be. This argument has played out before and you already know how it will end so you might as well skip to the ending, saving both of you time and energy. He huffs, his jaw set and his face emotionless. He knows it’s over before it’s even started. You get up from the table and excuse yourself, grabbing a robe from a nearby chair and leaving the room as you pull it on.

You wander the hallways until you come to a balcony on the other side from where your room is located. You rest your weight on the stone railing and take a shaky breath. Of all the people in this world you just happen to fall for him, didn’t you? They call him The Rogue Prince, but you think it inaccurate. He’s loyal to his family to a fault while all you want is freedom. No ties to hold you down.

A shrill roar and a shadow passing over catches your attention and you look up to see Caraxes flying off, heading for the coast, back to Westeros. You hear your dragon’s melancholy roar at the departure, echoing the feeling sitting heavy in your chest.

You sigh. You have known since you first met him that it will end like this. No matter how good the sex is, how well it seems you fit together, you know that the two of you are driven by different things. His focus is Westeros, his family and protecting them. While your focus is on your freedom and making sure no one tries to clip your wings ever again. You’ve cut many ties to ensure that, your own family included, and Daemon, unfortunately, is now joining them. This one hurts more than any of the other ones however. Making your heart ache and tears run down your face.

All you can think is that maybe in another life the two of you might have actually stood a chance.

#daemon targaryen x fem!reader #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen x you #hotd imagine #hotd x reader #hotd x you #valyrian!reader #team black

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inneedofsupervision · 1 month ago

Text

Sweet Tooth

When Eddie came to the park, he would have never guessed he would be home hours later and possibly have found a way to keep his alien symbiote co-inhabitant from needing to eat human brains. Did he find the solution for their rather unconventional diet, or was it just wishful thinking on his part? An idea of how else Venom could get his claws on his all-beloved phenethylamine (without Eddie having to use three cups of mouthwash the next day).

(Read on Ao3)

"Eddie?"

"Hm?"

"We want to eat the tiny humans."

"We've talked about this, V."

Eddie puts his dame on G6.

A good move.

Pleased with his choice, the journalist grabs for the steaming paper cup. A gust of wind blows colored leaves throughout the small park, covering the patches of green and the wet paths. It's rather chilly. A few meters next to him, a family is at a playground, and the three children are screaming and laughing as they run around.

"There is only so much chocolate can do to quell our hunger, Eddie."

"Guess you must stay hungry then, as I won't change my mind about this."

Eddie holds the coffee between both hands, trying to warm his fingers. A low growl rings in the deeper corners of his consciousness, but the man ignores the sounds inside his head. The sun breaks through the clouds, and strays of light fall onto the lithic chess table.

"They are mingy. Who would notice one or two of them missing?"

Eddie shakes his head while Venom's dusky voice speaks inside his mind. He raises the coffee towards his lips as an onyx-colored tentacle slithers from his sleeve. Like a snake, it creeps over the checkered table, its thinning end straightening up only to wind around the head of a pawn. It pulls until the figure has moved onto a black field.

Eddie frowns into his cup.

Checkmate.

"Please, Eddie. I can already feel their small, undeveloped brains melt on my tongue."

A spray of coffee bursts out over the chessboard, followed by violent coughing. Another tentacle emits from Eddie's body, this time out of his shoulder, knocking him on his back while the man is busy trying to get the hot liquid out of his trachea.

"Okay, that's it," Eddie says, still couching, face slowly regaining color.

"Enough fresh air for today. Time to bring you back under lock and key."

"You are a sore loser, Eddie. I won, and as a prize, I will get a snack of my choice~"

Venom almost purrs, his voice rumbling and sending shivers down his host's spine. Eddie shakes his head with a click of his tongue. Living with Venom was like getting a young dog who grew out of the puppy stage. Every rule gets questioned, sometimes several times a day. They have discussed when, where, and who Venom gets to eat. And even these rules have nuances. Lots of them, for the sake of Eddie not being brought behind bars after being linked a little too quickly with another headless body turning up in some dumpster near their neighborhood.

He tries to be understanding.

Eddie is aware of the alien and his needs, knowing there is no way around the Klyntar to consume brains sooner or later, sensing the growing hunger through their bond. But even he runs out of patience, discussing with a tantrum-throwing symbiote why the latter cannot eat children for the second time in thirty minutes.

"This isn't a Subway, Buddy. No snacks to choose from."

The man throws the tissue and empty cup into a garbage bin, shoveling his hands deep into his pockets. It is getting cold pretty fast now.

"Pussy."

"Yeah, yeah. See how you will like it when I freeze to death, and you're just a slimy little blob without a host," grumbles Eddie with a roll of his eyes.

"What did you just call us!?"

"For such a superior form of living, your hearing is quite bad, isn't it?"

"You will take this back, or I will devour your liver. You hear me, Eddie? Painfully and slow, and then I will crack open your head and feast on your brain while keeping you alive as long as possible."

Eddie hums without really paying attention.

"I believe it when I see it."

He wasn't sure when he stopped shaking in fear at the violent threats the alien liked to dish out whenever something didn't go his way. He twitches at the tentacle that pulls at his ear, swatting the offending appendage away.

"Why are you suddenly interested in eating children, anyway?"

Eddie halts in his steps. That sounds messed up. He begins walking again, quickening his pace, and leaves the playground and park behind, ignoring the dark rumble of protests from the alien, who moves restlessly under his skin. He blinks as his hood gets pulled over his head, furrowing his brows before the first raindrops hit the pavement. Venom flutters at the unspoken feeling of gratitude, drinking up the emotion before settling around his neck like a midnight-colored scarf. A small head pokes out from under his hood. Milky eyes stare up at the man. A tongue darts out, licking over the front row of razor-sharp teeth.

"Their brains smell delicious."

Eddie grimaces, not noticing how his expression causes Venom's grin to widen at his obvious distaste.

"Their brains smell delicious?"

He's whispering as he hurries up the stairs to his apartment, preventing his neighbors from thinking he's crazy, more than they already do.

"The quantity of some hormones they produce is beyond what I've experienced from grown humans."

"Maybe because they have more fun than adults?" throws Eddie his thought into the room, pulling his jacket off and dumping it over a chair.

"Aren't you after dopamine and stuff?"

"They certainly have more fun than you."

"Well, being an adult isn't all pleasure and enjoyment, V. We can't all be playing around and eating chocolate the whole day," counters Eddie lightheartedly as he opens his laptop. He rubs a hand over his face with a sigh, the half-finished article plopping out like a silent warning. How could Eddie possibly have fun running late on a deadline? Glancing at his notebook, he skims over the information he gathered before his eyes flick back to the screen. His fingers hover motionless over the keyboard, and the seconds pass while Eddie stares at the document. With a deep sigh, he pushes the chair back and stands up.

"You have never produced such an amount of tasty hormones, Eddie."

He shudders when the alien roams around inside of him, not even trying to be inconspicuous about it.

"What are you doing there, Buddy?"

Eddie gulps slightly, the hairs on his whole body straightening up. It feels like his organs are flipped over like stones on a beach to glance under them to see if something of interest hides under them. Venom seems to work his way from his legs upwards until Eddie panics. He can feel Venom coming straight toward his head, and although he is well aware that Venom is always in his head, the thought of the Symbiote searching for something in there leaves him a little panicked.

"V?"

His voice cracks, and he coughs to overplay his embarrassment, but his nervousness doesn't lessen as he doesn't receive an answer from the Symbiote.

"Venom?"

The movement doesn't stop, passing his lungs and working its way up his esophagus. When reaching past the Adam's apple, Eddie feels fear creeping up.

"Venom, stop!"

"What?"

Eddie jumps, the back of his knees hitting the couch and sending him falling onto it as Venom's head pops out of his chest to look at him.

"Christ, give a guy some warning next time. What are you even doing?"

"Checking you out, Eddie."

Eddie cannot hold back a laugh at that.

"I'm sure that's not what you mean. What exactly are you checking for?"

The serpent-like head tilts slightly.

"You don't produce as much hormones as the tiny humans. I had to check if your oranges are defective."

Eddie raises an eyebrow. He was pretty sure his organs were okay. Deciding to humor his friend, he folds his hands together and leans forward.

"And, what are your results, Doc?"

White eyes narrow at the title. The head wanders up and down, and Eddie feels the rest of Venom shifting under his skin, reaching out into every cell of his body. The feeling stops soon, and Venom licks his teeth again, reminding the human of a snake tasting the air.

"You are not dying."

Eddie huffs and lets himself fall back onto the couch.

"Thanks, pal. I haven't been worried about that until now. What hormones are we talking about, though?"

Venom's head bends down. His eyes scrutinize the human while searching for sarcasm. Seeing his host being serious about the question, he straightens up, hovering over the man.

"Adrenalin, dopamine, phenethylamine."

A sudden thought overcame him.

"Does that mean you scuff down brains for neurotransmitters inside?"

"And because they taste good."

The reporter scoots to the side to avoid getting hit by the to-the-ground-extending string of saliva running down from a corner of Venom's mouth. Eddie observes with a pinched expression how the string wanders until it hits the floor.

Great.

Now, he can mope the apartment. Eddie shakes his head. Now wasn't the time to think about salvia on the floor. Not after Venom revealed a particular detail of his rather unconventional diet.

"You mentioned feeding off my body before, right?"

The Symbiote's eyes narrow dangerously, and a low growl emits deep within his throat.

"I had no choice, Eddie. We were dying."

Eddie raises his arms in a placating and protective manner, not that it would be much use if Venom decided to jump him for the question. Their first meeting was still a touchy subject. Eddie smiles gently, his voice calm. If he had learned something, it was to not engage in Venom's open provocation if you like not getting your nose broken and healed, only to get it broken again. The handling of Venom called for more finesse as with any other human Eddie had contact with before in his life.

"That wasn't an accusation, V. Just a question."

The hollow snarling ebbs away, and Eddie feels a sigh of relief climbing up his throat. He could do without an angered Venom.

"If my brain produced more hormones, would that mean you need to eat less brains?"

Venom's serpentine head sways back and forth. Eddie watches, slightly fascinated and a little amused, how the tar-colored skin of the Klyntar tightens above the milky-white eyes, a grotesque imitation of a frown.

"It could."

"It could?"

Eddie had hoped for a more profound answer. The less brains he, or rather Venom, had to consume, the better. He really could do without their choice of midnight snacks, and even when the humans they chose were the worst of the worst, there were days Eddie couldn't cope with the thought of having devoured another human.

"You humans all produce different amounts of hormones. It depends on what your tiny brain can offer me, Eddie."

The smile on the reporter's face vanishes to be replaced by a scowl.

"My tiny brain? What does that mean? You know what, it's none of my business. Let's forget about the whole thing."

Eddie crosses his arms in front of his chest. He could not be bothered, continuing to talk about brains and hormones. Venom seems to pick up on his host's change of heart, the black head tilting to the side questioningly.

"Eddie, are you pouting?"

Not in the mood to answer, Eddie averts, hand reaching out of his smartphone to direct his attention to what his oh-so-small and silly brain could rather deal with. Before his fingers could touch the device, a thin tentacle curls around his wrist, successfully pulling his arm back.

The man rolls his eyes. With an exasperated sigh, he focuses on Venom.

"Let go of my arm, V."

The tentacle slithered back, and all hairs on his skin straightened as Venom moved. The Klyntar's head grows, and the part one could call a neck thickens rapidly. In less than a few seconds, Venom has almost entirely built up in front of the human, his massive upper body towering over him.

The pale pink tongue flicked out of his mouth, licking along the row of razor-sharp teeth, accompanied by a hiss.

"What crawled up your ass and died?" commented Eddie dryly. He was too pissed off to be impressed.

The Symbiote bends forward, their foreheads apart by a hair.

"You ever heard of personal space, big guy? Because you're stepping into mine. A little distance would be very much appreciated."

"I am inside you, Eddie. Your personal space belongs to me."

Eddie stares at Venom, and his lips move, but without a sound passing. For the first time today, the man was rendered speechless. Venom continues sizing his host up, tongue flicking through the air.

"Okay. That's a topic for another day," mumbles the man.

"Eddie."

"You like what you see?" jokes the reporter in an attempt to pass off his insecurity. Venom's white eyes lock on him, like a predator targeting its prey. A nervousness flickers somewhere in his stomach area. He had to break the eye contact with the alien manifesting out of his body. His gaze involuntarily moves downwards, Adam's apple setting in motion as they catch sight of the Symbiot's teeth.

One bite and everything would be over.

A hint of anxiety rolls over him as claws settle on either side of his shoulders against the couch, efficiently caging the man and robbing him of any way to escape. Not as if he had a chance, fleeing from an alien that nested inside every cell of his body.

“Good, but not quite what we wanted.”

Eddie's head snaps up, goosebumps spreading across his skin as Venom's voice rings in his head.

“Not the same as the little humans in the park. A certain something is missing.”

Eddie's face hardens as he finally catches on.

“You stupid bastard!” the reporter roars, any fear and panic he had felt replaced by anger and a pinch of shame.

“You scared me on purpose!"

He growls, pointing a finger at the Sybiote, anger burning in his eyes.

"I hope you had fun, 'cause that was the last time. You pull a stunt like this once more, and I swear to God, I'm going to march right up to our neighbor asking for a fucking private concert and turn the volume as high as possible. Then I'm going to collect your gooey alien ass in a jam jar and throw it out into the trash, you heard me?"

It takes a lot for Eddie Brock to lose his temper. His life had been turbulent ever since the thing with the Life Foundation began, and at some point, he began to grow blunt, not getting bothered as quickly as before. Few things get under the reporter's skin, having seen so much.

This time, Venom had pushed it too far.

Eddie tries hard to adjust to living with his Symbiote. He does his best catering to Venom's unusual needs, and how does that damned parasite thank him? Spooking Eddie out of his mind and causing his brain to kick into overdrive to feast on the adrenaline produced as the fear kicked in and, to put a cheery on top, making fun of him. Something in Eddie's voice or even inside his head must have shown how angry and betrayed he felt cause instead of retaliating with a biting remark or a threatening growl, Venom kept silent.

"What? Cat got your tongue? Nothing that the big bad alien wants to say?"

"I am sorry, Eddie."

"I hope you are."

The claws next to his shoulder retreat to offer his host some space. Eddie takes a deep breath, eyes averted from the Sybiote. He had to calm down. Getting angry isn't the solution. The blond already feels shame and guilt, not proud of how he has reacted.

With a sigh, he let a hand run over his face before glancing at Venom.

"I'm sorry too, Buddy."

The Symbiote tilts his head, white eyes narrow as he scrutinizes the human on the couch.

"I overreacted. I won't throw you into the trash."

"I doubt you would have managed. With your measly arms and puny muscles."

While speaking, a tentacle wraps around Eddie's upper body, slithering until it winds around his right arm and squeezing softly to undermine his words.

The corner of Eddie's mouth pulls upwards.

"Asshole."

He gives Venom's chest a playful shove.

Venom's teeth flash as his mouth pulls into an eerie smirk. A tentacle emanates out of his chest where Eddie had touched him and thrusts the human to the side, knocking him with his back onto the couch. Before he could sit up, Venom positioned himself over him, seizing his arms faster than Eddie could mouth "stop" and pushing them next to the side of his head.

"As I said. Puny."

A playful twinkle flickers in the milky white of Venom's eyes, and Eddie rolls his eyes at the smug tone.

"Hardy har. Just wait till I get out of here. I'm going to kick your gooey ass."

"Really? That I would like to witness."

Eddie narrows his eyes, provoked by the words. He tries hard, putting all his strength into his arms, and pushes to get off the couch. To his surprise, Eddie manages to gain space, almost having sat back up when the tentacle from before appears in front of his face. With a frown, the man observes the appendage hover as he pushes forward. Just before he was sitting straight, the tentacle came closer and gently shoved his forehead. Eddie stills, bemused at the action as the tentacle draws closer again, but this time, the push is much stronger. With a shout of surprise, he is back to stare at the ceiling.

"You didn't pay attention," purrs Venom, voice thick with amusement. The tentacle that had pushed him patted his cheek playfully.

"You cheated!" protests Eddie with a laugh, biting at the tentacle. The appendage raises and avoids his attack, only to pinch the tip of Eddie's nose. Venom grins down at the human.

"Even without holding you down, you would be at my mercy, Eddie. Give up."

"You can forget that."

His arms are released. Instead, Venom leans further down, threatening to bury Eddie under his black mass.

"Wait, you don't have to push it, V."

Despite his words of protest, Eddie laughed, knowing Venom wouldn't hurt him.

"Eddie?"

"What?"

Venom straightens and gazes down at the smiling human below. The Symbiote tilts his head, eying his host with growing interest. Eddie raises an eyebrow.

"What's wrong?"

A low purr fills the room from deep within Venom's chest. The Symbiote licks his teeth.

"I want more."

Eddie looks at him questioningly, hands still on Venom's body. The alien runs hotter than he had expected.

"More? More of what exactly?"

Venom bends down until his face hovers only inches apart from his host.

"Hormones, Eddie," Venom's tongue darts out, tasting the air. "You smell almost as tasty as the tiny humans."

Eddie blinks, not having expected that answer.

"Oh," was all he could bring out before a sudden thought occurred, causing warmth to build up inside him. The tips of his ears turn red.

"Eddie, you don't have to be embarrassed. You can admit to having fun."

"Shut your mouth," grumbles the human, red-faced. Gosh, he had fun playing around with Venom like a little kid. He coughs, embarrassed.

"Okay, it's time to stop. Come on, big guy. Let me up."

Venom didn't think about letting his human go. Especially not after Eddie's brain had just begun producing an exquisite cocktail of hormones.

"Explain to me, Eddie, what else is fun to you? Apart from being proven how frail you humans are?"

He looks down at Eddie, who still has being embarrassed written all over his features. Venom does not comprehend why his human felt the need to be ashamed for having fun, but there are many instances in which he doesn't understand Eddie. He might find out someday. But, at the moment, that doesn't interest Venom as he has more pressing matters to care for.

Eddie jumps as something slides under his sleeve. He glances at his arm. One of Venom's tentacles winds around his wrists. It was nothing unusual. Venom tends to appear at random times and slither over his skin. He never got an explanation why the alien did it, and Eddie had dismissed it as one of the Klyntar's quirks and left it at that. The tentacle wanders around but is not purposeful like the other times. It felt as if it was searching for something.

"Ehm, V? Care to explain?" asks the man, nodding towards his arm.

"I don't understand it, Eddie," growls Venom, eyes dangerously narrowed, his voice rumbling deep through Eddie's body. The Symbiote eyes him with his head tilted, face pulled into a scowl. Venom seems genuinely confused, and even if Eddie found it slightly amusing to see the other planless, he felt a little pity for the Klyntar.

"What's going on, Buddy? Come on, talk to me. Maybe we can figure it out together."

"I'm mimicking what the tiny humans did, but you are not reacting. Your body is fully functional, and your brain is not defective."

The reporter blinks, thrown off for a moment.

"Okay, about what exactly are we talking here?"

"The tiny humans in the park, they did something which spiked their hormones, but when I do it to you, you are not reacting."

It is Eddies turn to tilt his head in question. "I can't follow, Buddy. Maybe you can describe what the children did?"

Venom growls, a sign of him growing frustrated, but still describes what he had witnessed.

"They touched each other," the tentacle that had winded its way around Eddie Arm travels over his shirt towards the middle of his body before hovering over his stomach. "Here. And then they began laughing."

It takes a moment before it finally clicks.

"I see. Now I know what you are talking about, V," says Eddie with an amused laugh.

"They probably tickled each other."

"Tickled?"

The way Klyntar emphasized the word shows that he had never heard it before.

"The action itself is tickling, and someone who gets tickled and is affected is called ticklish."

"And if someone gets tickled, they laugh?"

Eddie nods, quite proud of how quickly Venom caught on. The Symbiote got quicker with how things on Earth worked every day.

"It's an involuntary reaction of our body towards a certain kind of touch," he continues explaining.

"There are only guesses why one has to laugh when being tickled. Most believe it to be a defensive reaction. Most people are ticklish at parts of the body that need the most protection, for example, the stomach, under the arms, and the neck, but there are more. Where and how ticklish someone is differs from person to person."

"It can't hurt you?"

"Not really. If one overdoes it, it can turn unpleasant quickly. It is still an involuntary reaction. Therefore, one must pay attention to the reaction of the opposite and slow down or stop, not to overwhelm."

"Are you ticklish, Eddie?"

Oh.

That went very wrong, very fast.

"Like you just saw, I'm not ticklish," explains Eddie slowly, praying Venom's previous failure to tickle his arm suffice to prevent the alien from trying again.

"You are not lying to me, are you, Eddie? I should try again, to be sure."

The man swallows nervously.

"Congratulations, Eddie. You just created a monster. Okay. There's no reason to panic. If you manage to stay quiet, he gets bored sooner or later. Hopefully sooner."

He barely conceals a squeak as something pulls at his wrist. With growing horror, he observes the man how a set of black tentacles wrung around his wrist and painfully slowly pulls them over his head.

"It's easier getting your underarms this way."

A single sentence is enough to make something in his stomach coil. His underarms are ticklish. Very much.

He won't withstand this.

"Why are you nervous, Eddie? You have no reason to unless you were lying."

Venom looks at him, teeth pulled into a giant grin. White eyes scan the human stretched out and open for him to test this newfound knowledge. A cold shiver runs down Eddie's spine. Hopefully, Venom does not pay this reaction to his body and mind. He didn't like the wolfish grin the Symbiote gave him, as if he had trouble choosing which part to begin with.

"Venom, I told you that doesn't work on me. Come on, leave me go, and we can get dinner, alright? We get some pizza, and afterward, you can eat the rest of the chocolate we got you yesterday. What do you say?"

Venom didn't even look like he considered the offer.

"I think I will begin with your stomach."

Eddie licks his chapped lips, franticly thinking about what else he could say to dissuade the Symbiote of his schemes. His eyes observe with growing dread how several tentacles arise out of Venom's chest. The midnight black appendages wind and crank as if possessed. They find their way over his upper body, and Eddie cannot keep his eyes off them.

A pull and prickle spread in his stomach region, and his jaw clenches as he tries to keep a straight face. A hardly noticeable flinch passes his body as the first tentacle reaches its goal. Without waiting, it begins to creep over his shirt from one side to the other.

Eddie shut his eyes tightly, preparing mentally not to let a single noise leave his mouth. One sound, and he wouldn't survive the evening. With bated breath, the man lets the wandering of the tentacles fare. The seconds tick by, and Eddie lies tensed up on the couch until a sudden thought crosses his mind while a tentacle glides over his collarbone.

Venom's touch doesn't tickle.

The reporter dares to open a single eye to peek at Venom. The alien's appendages slide over his body, sometimes adding little pressure. The careful movements remind him of a scan to check for injuries.

He was nearly about to laugh.

How in the world would an alien know how to tickle someone? Eddie wants to shake his head. He had worried for nothing. Of course, Venom could not understand he had to lessen his touch or get firmer with it. His pullover also protected him. He didn't want to know how bad those tentacles would feel on bare skin. Eddies muscles relax. With a relieved sigh, he melts into the couch.

"Bare skin and less pressure, you say?"

"Fuck!"

"Oh, Eddie."

Their eyes meet while a new tentacle grows off the Symbiote's chest. The appendage pats Eddie's cheek teasingly.

"Did you forget? Every single thought, every reaction of our body, everything that happens within you, Eddie, I know it. And now, let's see how good this "tickling" works on you, now that I know what to do, thanks to you."

Goosebumps spread over his skin as his pullover gets pushed upwards. The hold on his wrist loosens, and before he can react, the pullover is pulled over his head and dangles from Venom's claw.

"You don't need this now."

With those words, the Symbiote throws the article of clothing over his shoulder.

"Hey!" protests Eddie and moves his head to see where his clothes end up. He gets pulled out of his endeavors as the black extremities once again begin moving over his upper body. At no other moment did Eddie wish Venom didn't listen to his words and thoughts, as he did at this very moment. The tension that left his body moments before is back tenfold. With tightly shut eyes and lips, Eddie tries desperately, not paying attention to the feather-light touches all over his stomach.

This time, Venom's touch does tickle.

And how much it tickles.

The goosebump grows as the heads of the tentacles slide dangerously close along his belly button, over his waistline and hipbones. Eddie couldn't hold back a small whimper as one of the appendages moved further towards his left side than the others. The light touches between his lower rip and his hips are simply unbearable.

"Got you."

"Fuck!"

The tentacles retreat from the middle of his torso to simultaneously commit to tickling up and down his sides. Two of them on each side slide with silky touches over his skin, and Eddie can't hold back the gigantic grin that is about to split his face in half.

"You're smiling a lot for something that's not funny to you, Eddie."

Instead of answering, Eddie can only give a choked giggle, which he quickly tries overplaying by hiding his reddened face in the crook of his arm. Meanwhile, Venom's limbs are traveling. Two are still paying attention to his sides, which leaves every hair on his body standing straight, while the others are moving upwards.

Eddie could only pray that Venom would keep it at the light touches. If the Symbiote decides to tickle his rips earnestly, he will break like a dried-up stick.

"Breaking? I would like to see that."

Eddie, you dumb idiot!

"It's part of your charm, Eddie."

Venom grins down at him with a sly smirk. The tentacles have reached his ribs, and as one of them calculatedly pokes between the bones, Eddie cannot hold back. With a jump, a little shout of surprise leaves his mouth. Venom's eyes narrow, his monstrous grin fills his face from one side to the other, and Eddie knows there is no way out now.

Before he could protest, plead, or swear at the Klyntar, more than ten tentacles began poking into his rips from all sides at once. Eddie knows he won't be able to handle it anymore. Having lost the charge over his reactions, he cannot stop twisting and turning in the hold as if every poke seems to shoot an electric pulse through his body.

"V-Venom, stop it!"

But the alien doesn't even think about stopping now.

With growing amusement, he observes his host squirming under him. He had never seen the man show this kind of reaction before. Venom could manipulate Eddie if he wanted to, making him do whatever he deemed fit, but the Klyntar detests this kind of symbiosis. This "tickling", causing the man under him to lose control over his body without Venom needing to do anything but touch his skin, was fun. With fascination watches the alien, the crow's feet dancing around the corner of Eddie's eyes. But the Symbiote was not satisfied. As fun as Eddie's weird dance on the couch was, it isn't how the little humans have reacted to the "tickling." His host did make peculiar noises, but the laughing was still missing.

But the answer to archiving that reaction lies right inside Eddie's head. Like a sponge, Venom absorbs every tidbit of information. Every thought, every reaction, whatever gets him closer to achieving his goal is soaked up.

The Klyntar observes Eddie before he lets two of his tentacles change their form. Carefully, to avoid nipping the sensible skin, Venom puts his newly formed claws around Eddie's waist. The thumbs are pressing into the sides of the toned stomach, the rest of his fingers hovering in the small of Eddies back. He seems to do something right as Eddie's brain, after registering the new touch and the position of Venom's claws on his body, releases adrenaline, and his heart rate spikes.

"This is a good spot, right? Is it a place you are ticklish at, Eddie?"

Eddie opens his mouth, but to his horror, nothing but boisterous laughter comes out as Venom uses that exact moment to start squeezing.

The man's hips buck upwards, unable to withstand the urge to escape from the touch, and Eddie throws his body from left to right when Venom won't stop the rapid succession of squeezes. The asshole varies the strength behind each squeeze to keep him guessing, and it drives Eddie mad.

"You bastard! Stohohohop it, dahamn it!"

But Venom doesn't think about stopping. He finally did it.

Eddie squirms madly in the Symbiote's hold, Venom's thumbs massaging the sides of his stomach while his fingers dub into his back. Until now, Eddie didn't even know any part of his back was ticklish. What makes him the most nervous is how Venom gets better at tickling with every ongoing moment. The clumsy movements begin to gain precision, and simple pokes give way to kneading and squeezing at spots like his ribs and hip bones, leaving him squirming pathetically in the hold.

A few tentacles wander back towards where it all began, and instead of stroking over his stomach, they use a bit more pressure, which turns out to be very effective.

"Fuhuhuck, nohot there! Oh good, noho! Pl-please, Venom!"

"Your tummy is ticklish, after all. It's fascinating how such small touches can render you defenseless. You humans are so pathetically fragile that even touches as soft as this can defeat you."

"You reahahally knohow how toho strohoke a mahans ego, Venom."

"Your frail ego doesn't matter to me, Eddie. I'd rather stroke your sides. That's much more amusing."

An honest-to-god squeal escapes Eddie as Venom does, just as he said.

"Are all of you humans this ticklish, or is that just you, Eddie?" purrs Venom, licking his teeth hungrily as a flood of delicious hormones floods the man's brain. His human windes and writhes under Venom's tentacles, stroking up and down his sides.

"Shuhut up. St-stahap teahasing me, you asshole!"

"But your brain reacts so well to them, Eddie."

"I said to keep quiet!"

"Why, Eddie? Does it tickle more when I ask you how ticklish you are while searching for more of your most ticklish spots to tickle you? Does that make it tickle worse?"

He watches with amusement at Eddie's face and neck, reddening at his voice. The man tries hiding his face in his arm, clearly embarrassed but still laughing even when Venom lessens the tickling to teasing strokes.

Eddie finally regains his breath, glaring up at Venom as he fights the heat in his face. God, he cannot believe the damn alien could make him this flustered by tickling him.

"Fuck you, you sadistic parasite."

Venom's eyes narrow dangerously. The reporter's eyes open wide, and panic grows inside him as he watches with fear how a bunch of tentacles approach his defenseless armpits.

"Venom, buddy, let's talk about this, okay? I didn't mean that. It was a slip of the tongue."

Despite his fear of what lay ahead, Eddie couldn't discard the silly grin about to split his face. He looks like a madman trying to keep the corner of his mouth down, only for them to twitch back into a smile, anticipation coiling inside his chest.

With a playful growl, Venom let his appendages strike forward, attacking the open laying underarms.

A shout leaves Eddie's lips before the man shakes his head left and right, messing his short hair up even more while roaring with laughter. Venom had formed another pair of claws, thumbs digging into the muscle under the armpit while the rest teased the middle of both sides, driving the man up the wall. It tickles like mad, and Eddie is thoroughly helpless. He's unable to do anything but pull at his arms. Eddie arches his back and throws his body around, but Venom shows no mercy. While the man twists and turns, laughing his head off, several more tentacles manifest out of Venom's body to teach the human a lesson he wouldn't forget so soon. The tentacles grab him around the middle, turning into a wide belt-like construction that relentlessly massages his bottom rib, sides, stomach, and lower back. Single tentacles use every free patch of skin they can find to prod, poke, and scribble away. Two thicker appendages have wrapped around Eddie's thighs, keeping him from thrusting his hips as another pair of claws take care of his hip bones.

Every time Eddie jumps, shrieks, or squeals, several tentacles are determined to find the cause and make him repeat that reaction.

Eddie is in stitches.

His body moves constantly, winding from side to side. Whatever he tries, he cannot escape the maddening sensations.

The worst of it all, despite his body's desperate attempts to make it stop, a tiny part of Eddie's mind asks when it was the last time he had laughed this much and so heartily. Not a second later, Eddie nearly choked as he realized what he had just thought of, appalled by what would happen if Venom caught wind of him subconsciously having fun while being tickled to pieces by the Symbiote. He would die out of embarrassment.

"I DIHIHIND'T MEAHAN IHIT LIKE THAT! PLEASE STAHAHAP!"

"You are a terrible liar. I will make you pay for calling us a parasite!"

"PLEASEHE VENAHAM! YOU'RE KIHIHILLING MEHEH!"

"I would never let you die, Eddie."

"IHIHI SUHURE DOESOHON'T FEHEHELL LIKE THAHAT!"

Taking in the dark red of the man's face and the tears sparkling in Eddie's eyes, the Klyntar tunes it down. He keeps the human in place. He's still teasing him by letting appendages run up and down his armpits. He also pays special attention to the human's sensitive sides, as well as his neck, causing Eddie to giggle like a maniac.

"Lehet me go. Pl-pleahahse V. I'm tirehehed."

Reculantly, the Symbiote draws his appendages back. Still hovering over the man, Venom watches with a smirk how Eddie curls together, a few giggles escaping him as he tiredly wipes tears out of the corner of his eyes.

"That was tasty."

Eddie let his head fall back, glaring up at Venom but looking so out of it that the alien almost felt sorry for overdoing it. If Eddie hadn't called him a parasite, he might have let up sooner. Eddie had to stop provoking him. Silly human.

"You're telling me it worked?"

Eddie huffs and runs a hand through his messed-up hair.

Venom grins down at him, eyes gleaming with mischief.

"We should repeat that. Almost as good as eating brains."

"Torturing me? You can forget that right now."

"Don't be like that, Eddie. You had fun. I saw and felt it."

"Oh, leave me alone, you ass."

"There's no need to be embarrass-. You threw a pillow at me!?"

"I said leave it."

"I see. You are begging for a second round."

"Venom, stop it. Put your freaking tentacles away! Pleahase, Ve. Nohot agahahain!"

#tickling #venom tickle fic #ticklish! eddie brock #lee! eddie brock #ler! vernom #tickle fic #marvel tickle fic #marvel #venom #eddie brock

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howyouloveyourdragon · 2 years ago

Note

What about alpha!rhaenyra x omega!reader x alpha!daemon, where reader is Rhaenyra’s soft shy younger sister? Maybe Viserys hasn’t given them approval to marry her, so they sneak her out of the red keep and secretly wed in a traditional valyrian ceremony on Dragonstone? They would IMMEDIATELY begin breeding reader so nobody can take her away from them

thank you for your request! i like how you're thinking anon

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ꜱᴏᴍᴇᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴄᴏᴇʀᴄɪᴠᴇ ʙᴇʜᴀᴠɪᴏᴜʀ, ᴘᴏꜱꜱᴇꜱꜱɪᴠᴇɴᴇꜱꜱ, ɴꜱꜰᴡ ᴋɪɴᴋꜱ: ʙʀᴇᴇᴅɪɴɢ, ᴘʀᴀɪꜱᴇ ('*' is where the nsfw comes in)

𝕴 𝖍𝖔𝖕𝖊 𝖎𝖙'𝖘 𝖆𝖑𝖗𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙 𝖙𝖍𝖆𝖙 𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖘 𝖎𝖘 𝖖𝖚𝖎𝖙𝖊 𝖑𝖔𝖓𝖌, 𝕴 𝖜𝖆𝖓𝖙𝖊𝖉 𝖙𝖔 𝖒𝖆𝖐𝖊 𝖘𝖚𝖗𝖊 𝕯𝖆𝖊𝖒𝖔𝖓 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝕽𝖍𝖆𝖊𝖓𝖞𝖗𝖆'𝖘 𝖗𝖔𝖑𝖊𝖘 𝖜𝖊𝖗𝖊 𝖇𝖔𝖙𝖍 𝖊𝖖𝖚𝖆𝖑 <3

"𝐍𝐎, 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐎𝐓 marry her!" Viserys exclaimed. Rhaenyra's jaw clenched but Daemon scoffed beside her. "And why not?" She yelled back. Daemon sneered at the King, his lips twitching. "She is still young." Viserys offered weakly to which Daemon rolled his eyes. "You tried to marry Rhaenyra off before her ten and seventh namesday, Y/n is certainly old enough!" Viserys seethed at him and stood with a finger raised threateningly. "Y/n is also a second child, a second daughter no less and until we are in need of allies she is of no concern. She may whom she chooses when I deem her old enough." "My sister is not one to be used! There is no better safety than to have her between two alpha Targaryens! We are stronger than any other." Rhaenyra shouted. The castle bellowed with anger as though taking a life-force of its own, to whom it agreed with would be commented among scattering servants. "If you plan to wed her to some highborn cunt, test us but he will not leave with our bride." "You cannot possibly believe me to allow a wedding between all three of you, I forbid it!"

"Then try!" Rhaenyra snapped back vehemently. She turned with her long hair whipping as harsh as a sentence while Daemon took a powerful stance of his own as he too left his brother to wallow. Viserys clenched his jaw and rubbed his hand over his face in frustration. "Escort them and under no circumstances are they to leave you sight besides their chambers." He commanded, causing guards to start tripping over themselves to abide their King. For the first time in years he was not the quiet man they had grown accustomed to and it was enough to repel any desire to be around the more unruly Targaryens. Rhaenyra and Daemon were the first alpha born children in the Targaryen line since Maegor the Cruel and his parents Aegon and Visenya, the origins of their Iron claim...and though there had been before them, there was no telling what would be possible if both longed to steal his omega child even rarer than they. Leaving the Keep was easy, the hard part was convincing their sweet bride to abide by them. Loyalty was not something easily lost but Rhaenyra had prepared for this since the both of you were young, it was not often that women could marry with or without their status. However Viserys had always been very cautious with you, keeping you sheltered inside due to the young lure of an omega. It was far too easy for someone to steal you away with your kind nature if he let you out unless he ensured you were encircled with guards at all times but that was not a prime solution. Rhaenyra was sure you had never seen the outside even when mother was alive. She thought of this as she and Daemon murmured to each other as they sped down the hall and with a final glance they nodded and left their respective chambers. They were going to take you by law or by force and Viserys had made his choice. It was time to play their move.

Rhaenyra stepped into her chambers with a plan. She and Daemon would use the passageways and–oh. When she turned her head there you were sitting patiently on her bed with a book in had and your hair cascading behind you like a fairy-tale beauty. When you saw her, a radiant beaming smile forced the light of all stars to crash your eyes willingly just for it to meet your sister. Her heart stopped for a moment but when you stood she knew that nothing was going to keep her from expressing her love for you. She cared for Daemon, hell she even cared for Criston, but neither affections ever nearly reached her care for you. She didn't stop her feet when they moved toward you, a giddying glee enveloping her as you stepped toward her. She wanted you to feel her adoration as she took a leap and pulled your alluring face toward her own and joined your lips in an earth-shattering embracive kiss. Her tongue moved against your mouth like it belonged there. She wanted it to belong there. When the kiss became too suffocating she pulled away to breathe and found her fingers having entwined in your hair. Your eyes were blown out in beautiful circles of confusion and joy and she revelled in it. "Avy jorrāelan, hāedar." She declared as your own hands rested against her. (I love you, sister/younger sister) You melted into her arms. "Majigho tosh nyke." (Come with me) Her hand tugged you further into the room until she had you pressed to a cold stone wall. She worked hard to push back her bed and open the passageway for your curious eyes. She took a hold of your hand again and pulled you in.

"What is this?" You asked with wonder as you scaled the building with your eyes. She chuckled before kissing your cheeks. "The start of everything, my love." She replied, hearing Daemon's oncoming footsteps. When he reached them there, both were in a giggling excitement but that wasn't the cause of his surprise. "Kepus!" You announced at the sight of him and turned into a beautiful flush of pink. (Uncle) A desire to possess you rang in his ears and it showed in his sly grin. He greeted you both with a nod of the head before pulling a bag from behind his back. He tossed it to the floor as you wrapped your arms around his neck, tugging him to your height. His eager arms lingered on your waist only to release one in favour of his fingers playing with a strand of your hair. He chuckled mischievously. "What's this?" He asked, referring to a small cut hidden beneath the curtain of white. You pulled away bashfully though his other hand stayed trapping you in his embrace. Rhaenyra watched with increasing excitement. She glanced at the bag and rifled through it. You batted your eyelashes at him as you recounted the events which caused your short strand. "I, well..." You trailed. Rhaenyra ever the more confident answered for you. "She was riding on Syrax with me and we hit a branch." She answered teasingly. Daemon hummed and held in his amusement at your embarrassed flush. He stroked a thumb over it affectionately before leaning in to kiss it gently. Your eyes closed as an innocent gasp left you. "Then it will heal." He noted. "It would be a shame to scar such a pretty riña." Daemon delighted in the sweet tilt to your mouth. (girl) "Indeed." Rhaenyra purred, rising from the bag so that she could thrust a pile of fabric into your arms.

You looked down and frowned at it. Daemon had to stop himself from asking to help. "Clothing." He answered your non-question. You looked up into his violet eyes. "We're taking you for the adventure of your life, darling." At the words, Rhaenyra sent you an assuring grin and nod of encouragement. To their persuasion, you followed Rhaenyra's lead, both of you pulling a beige shirt over your head after Rhaenyra unlaced your dress and let it fall to the floor. She sucked in a sharp breath while Daemon let his eyes wander your form. You acted too quickly for him to let them stray from task for too long as he pushed the hidden passage back in place but he appreciated the brief glimpse. When dressed, Rhaenyra's comforting hand cupped your cheek and drew you into another kiss. A short panic shot through you when you broke from her and saw Daemon watching but she quickly pulled you back to face her. "He knows." She spoke. "We love you together, my sweet hāedar." Daemon approached with cautious calculated steps and drew your bodies both into him, a hand on each cheek. "It is not something to fear, dōna jorrāelan, it is to be celebrated and we know just how." He pressed his warm lips to your forehead and laid a kiss there.

The dragonpit was silent as Daemon paid off guards to allow entry but it didn't quell your nerves, your hands were occupied with each Rhaenyra and Daemon as they guided you onto your dragon and they mounted their own. They shared a glance. The start of forever awaited them as they rose in the air. They kept you and your dragon between them as if guarding you, Daemon behind to keep watch of the city below in case their presence came known and Rhaenyra guiding you forward. As the warm air blew in your face you remained unaware of their intentions. The wind whispered promises of devotion and the sun shone on them like it was made for this day and when you finally landed, Rhaenyra almost didn't want to glide to the floor. She rushed at the chance to help you down however and grinned wickedly back at Daemon. Dragonstone? You wondered though anticipation rattled your bones. Daemon came to sweep you under his arm as you came closer to the castle where their Septon stood waiting. You hesitated at the unfamiliar sight but Rhaenyra and Daemon's smiling faces urged you forward. They swept past the Septon as though not there at all, instead leading you inside. The stairs were winding as they took you up and into a large lavish chamber where a perfect gold and red garment entranced you, it seemed to pair with the headpiece beside it. Daemon leant into your ear. "Soon." He whispered before leaving. Rhaenyra kissed you before you could question further and left you in the room.

Seeing them again but this time in their own garb felt like a warm pressure clutching you in a tight embrace. Their own prideful expressions furthered your trust in them, reminding you of their love. "Do you know why we're here, my love?" Rhaenyra asked quietly and held your hands together. You shook your head and pulled a lip between your teeth. She smiled. "We want to marry you." Your eyes widened and snapped to see Daemon's smirking face immediately. "We need you to be ours." He continued. "We need to claim you, would you like that?" Breath clogged your lungs with a strong push keeping your surprise down. Rhaenyra's fingers glided up your arm. "You only need to say yes." She told you quietly and nuzzled her nose in your hair, breathing in your scent. She wholeheartedly believed that you were made for her. "Will you?" The fluffy feeling she projected into your heart kept you from disagreeing. And so a gentle, "Yes", fell from your lips like a plea. You felt her wide grin against your neck as she lay a series of kisses along it. Daemon's form surprised you when his fingers rolled around your waist so that his teeth could mould onto your jaw and suck a sweet mark just below. He soothed it with kisses of his own and when they both pulled away from you, you felt cold and needy. However there wasn't time for that. Viserys could realise you were missing any second now as they guided you once more toward the Septon. The Septon officiated your promises of love and protection. The sharp sting along the line of your lip felt dull as they soothed you with amorous eyes and warm hands. Your thumb became stained with the blood of the dragon and you didn't mind because it reminded you of your love. "Mēre ñelly, mēre prūmia, mēre soul, sir se forever." When you all joined to pledge your love with a kiss, their lips brought your own into a security you had never known before but also a freedom. A new world for them to experiment.

*You knew what would happen when you inevitably reached your chambers, the burn in you grasping you in a chokehold. Rhaenyra's soft hands against Daemon's hard touch made you feel euphoric as they slipped you and each other from your traditional garments. A low groan ripped from Daemon's chest, leading his hands to hold your breasts and squeezing while Rhaenyra wrapped her hands onto your waist and sucked marks as dark as his eyes into your skin. After years of pleading, she finally had you. You were the only thing she had ever believed was destined to be hers and now you were her own to mark and praise as she saw fit. "So good for us." She murmured, her wet lips trailing you. Daemon moaned at the sight. "Our good omega, aren't you?" The prince asked and you had a feeling it wasn't rhetorical as his iron grip held you. Rhaenyra raised her eyes to look at your blissful face. He pulled away from you then to watch as you nodded. "So perfect." Rhaenyra breathed, her hands sliding onto your breasts from behind and rolling them like a massage. Daemon kissed your jaw and followed the line of your body until he reached the valley of your breasts, kissing Rhaenyra's hands before further trailing down.

When he reached your lower belly, his hands swept under your rear and hoisted you against Rhaenyra's body so you were between them. He wrapped your legs around his hips. Rhaenyra relinquished her hands although your whimper made her desire to take you back into her again but she stepped back and swallowed. She sat herself waiting on the large bed. "Gaomagon jaelā naejot sagon īlvon, dōna riña?" He whispered to you as he walked you toward it too. (Do you want to be ours, sweet girl?) He dropped you down onto the plush mattress. Your head lay back between Rhaenyra's thighs, her fingers carding through your hair soothingly. "Say it." She whispered into your ear. Daemon started kissing down your stomach.

"Jaelan sytilībagon aōhon." You answered. (I want to be yours) And it was with that statement that they knew they had you right where they needed you. Daemon didn't hesitate to press a sloppy kiss against your bud, his tongue circling around it like nothing you had ever felt before. Rhaenyra's hands moved to interlace with your own as you thrashed your head back into her. His tongue guided along you like his vows. "Sȳz riña." He murmured, vibrating his mouth against you. (Good girl) A shuddering jolt passed through your body, curling your toes and fingers. Rhaenyra almost moaned just watching you fall apart atop her. His tongue lolled into the depths of you and flicked back forth, experienced. "Skorkydoso gaomagon ao pendagon ao sylutegon?" Rhaenyra asked, throat tightening at the thought of having you herself. (How do you think you taste?) She took in your flushed cheeks and droopy eyelids, you were perfect. Absolutely fucking perfect. "Dōna..." She whispered. "iā heksīr averilla?" She pulled her hands from yours so that she could suddenly rake her nails over your pointing nipples and groaned. (Sweet...or like wine?" Daemon chuckled as your hips snapped up to his mouth, her teeth briefly leaping along your sensitive bud. You squealed at the sharpness of his canines but just as you were about to release another moan, Daemon's head pulled back and let you hips fall back onto the bedding.

A heave escaped your lips even when you looked down at his waiting violet eyes. Your disappointed and confused furrow of your brow treated him like a winner and he couldn't hold back his evil grin. You almost whined for him but then he was hoisting your legs over his shoulders and leaning forward to join your faces. Your legs burned as he stretched them up close to your collarbones and your neck felt cold when Rhaenyra's body moved from behind it. Daemon was smirking at you. One of Rhaenyra's hands stayed on your nipple, flicking you nipple back and forth like a toy but the rest of her sat beside your limp body. Daemon stroked your face firmly and delighted in the whimpers he caused. "We're going to breed you, sweetling." Rhaenyra told you in her beautiful lilting voice, it almost made the words sound less vulgar. She pressed wet kisses down your neck. "You're ours now and some people don't want you to be." "Will you teach them with us, dōna riña?" Daemon's face was so close to yours but he refused to give into your desires so soon. He urged Rhaenyra with a knowing look to start pressing a slow ring on your clit. Then she slipped it inside, stealing your gasps with a suction-like kiss. "Yes." You replied when she released you with a soft squelch. Daemon growled as if he was being possessed by Caraxes and sucked a harsh mark into your neck.

"Our good girl." He breathed. "Are you ready for my cock?" His tone was domineering and his words vulgar but all you could think about was how good it would feel when his thick appendage finally broke through you. He chuckled wickedly at your dazed glassy eyes and guided his length to your waiting, swollen entrance. Rhaenyra's finger sped up though she withdrew the one that had been slinking inside of you, leaving a gooey trail up your stomach as she slithered it up to your mouth. She tapped your lips and when she dipped it in and lay it at your tongue, a lewd mewl escaped you. Daemon exchanged a proud nod with your sister and felt his breath stutter as he began sliding himself into you. Your red sopping mound nearly scurried away from him but he held your hips tightly in place and Rhaenyra murmured sweet praise into your ear.

"You don't want to be taken away from us do you?" She asked quietly while Daemon halted halfway-through to allow at least some adjustment. Rhaenyra tilted her head at you and let the upturn of her lips glide into a smirk. You shook your head and gasped as her lips pressed against yours. "Then let us have you...all of you." A light trail of blood seeped into the bedding when your uncle broke through the only barrier keeping him from you but none of you seemed to care as he thrust forward and sunk into your wet heat. "Taking me so well." Daemon commented as easily as complimenting your dress but a moan released from buried within his chest as your tight hole engulfed all of him. "Our good girl, we're going to fill you until you burst." His hips snapped against you in a pleasing join of sweat-slick flesh. You had the heat of the dragon within you and it didn't let itself go unnoticed. Rhaenyra's leg swung around your middle when your soft moans and jolting body continued, forcing Daemon to lower your legs. Tears began to release but she kissed at them until you couldn't tell what was from your eyes or the wetness of her tongue. She slid her mouth to capture you, her tongue probing your own.

"I want you to show me what Daemon taught you." The crinkle of your brow went ignored until her thighs locked on either side of your head and her cunt dropped onto your lips. Your inexperienced tongue licked at her curiously and a warm pride filled your chest when she moaned. Your mind went dizzying as your body took full control, you almost felt like an intruding ghost as the heat of your bodies swept over you. You felt as her nub grew larger and larger, sighing in satisfaction as your eyes closed. Daemon's pace maintained a hard brutal pace, abusing your hole until a tingling heightened in your stomach. You cried out as an unknown feeling ebbed away at you. "That's it." He coaxed, almost yelling. "Cum for me, my pretty wives." Rhaenyra let a hoarse scream erupt as you whimpered and thrashed below her, a wave of pleasure finally crashing and a new taste dripping onto your tongue. You lapped at it like a greedy dog but they loved it, Rhaenyra's fingers wrapping in your Targaryen strands and gripping like a vice. The come down felt a newfound clarity. His skin didn't stop slapping against yours until a surge of his seed flowed into you. As it began to drip out of you, he used a singular finger to curl it back into you, thrusting as it did so. Rhaenyra eventually slipped from you but when her fingers released your hair, they played with it in a relaxed threading. "Perfect." She breathed before sliding off the bed much to your disagreement. They both chuckled at you with affectioned smiles. "I hope you don't think we're done, dōna ābrazȳrys." Daemon pulled out of your heat and quickly began to rub his manhood again as Rhaenyra took his place. She was already rubbing your pelvises against one another. "We won't stop until we know you swell with our babe." "You're insides are going to stain white by the time we're through with you."

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hayerins · 30 days ago

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Love, Sophie

written for sophie week

Three times Sophie is told she does not deserve love. One time Sophie is told she deserves all the love.

“What does bastard mean?” 5-year-old Sophie asked her governess with her bright, innocent eyes.

“I’m afraid I cannot answer that, Sophie.” Mrs Gibbons avoided the little girl’s eyes.

“Oh, is it a tough word that you do not know its meaning?” Sophie tilted her head in confusion. She thought her governess knew everything.

“You are not wrong to say that, Sophie.” Mrs Gibbons nodded slowly.

“Would an example help? I’ve heard the other maids say I am the Earl’s bastard child.” Sophie assumed she was helping Mrs Gibbons by providing the example.

“About that…Sophie…” Mrs Gibbons weighed the possibilities of defining the term for Sophie.

“It’s another way to describe ward, Sophie.” Mrs Gibbons decided against telling Sophie the truth.

“So can I say that instead of ward? That I’m the Earl’s bastard child?” Sophie assumed the term was positive.

“I would refrain from doing so, Sophie. We shall all stick to ward. I will inform the other maids as well. Are we clear on this?” Mrs Gibbons’ voice was firm.

“Is this why the Earl does not love me? Like how the other papas love their children?” Sophie was an intelligent girl. Too intelligent for her own sake.

“The Earl cannot love you like other papas do, Sophie. You are his ward. He loves you like a guardian would. Nothing more, nothing less.” Mrs Gibbons believed it was for Sophie’s good that she abandoned any hope early. The more Sophie desired fatherly love from the Earl, the more she would be in pain.

“Nothing more, nothing less,” Sophie repeated Mrs Gibbon’s words, reminding herself she was nothing more than a ward, and nothing less.

“You’re a bastard child.” Rosamund stared straight into Sophie’s eyes.

At least the Earl’s blood flows in me. Sophie wished self-control wasn’t one of her strengths. She had learned the meaning of the term as she aged.

“You should be glad that we are providing for you. A bastard child.” Rosamund enunciated the last two words slowly as if the deliberate pause in between would soften the blow.

Sophie looked at Rosamund, weighing the various replies she could choose from. Something told her silence would be the best answer.

“Why aren’t you saying anything?” Rosamund expected a rebuttal from Sophie. She expected a defiant response so she could justify her anger.

“If me being at your beck and call all day is not enough, I don’t know what more will appease you.” Sophie was done with Rosamund and gave her an answer. An answer that seemed subservient enough on the surface.

“Nothing you do will appease me. Your very presence itself disgusts me, bastard child.” Rosamund spat.

“I shall make myself scarce then.” Sophie turned to take her leave, too exhausted to entertain yet another of Rosamund’s childish, insecure tantrums.

“Where do you think you’re going!” Rosamund lurched to grab Sophie by her hair.

“Let go, Rosamund. You’re hurting me.” Sophie tried to untangle Rosamund’s fingers from her hair.

“Get your dirty hands off me, you bastard child. How dare you touch me!” Rosamund shrieked as she gave Sophie a forceful slap. A slap so strong, it threw Sophie onto the ground with a resounding thud.

“This will teach you to know your place, bastard child.” Rosamund seemed pleased at the sight of her clear palm imprint on Sophie’s tear-filled cheeks.

“How dare you!” Sophie watched as Araminta charged towards the young servant sitting next to her.

“My lady…” The servant stood up instinctively, unsure of Araminta’s next action. Which seconds later, was revealed to be a tight slap to the face.

“I dare you to repeat your words.” Araminta looked at the kneeling servant from the side of her eyes.

“Forgive me, my lady but I do not know what you are referring to.” The poor maid was shivering from shock and the numbing pain from Araminta’s slap.

“You spoke about the Earl’s bastard child. I heard you!” Araminta raged, scaring the poor girl even further.

“We were far from that topic, Araminta.” Sophie stepped in front of the maid, blocking Araminta’s view.

“As if I would believe the words of a bastard child.” Araminta spat, transferring her anger onto Sophie.

“That would be out of my control, Araminta.” Sophie blinked. She may or may not have regretted her response but it was too late.

“Bastard.” Sophie willed herself to not flinch as she watched Araminta’s arm swing towards her cheeks. Go on, Araminta. Hit me.

Seconds after Sophie felt the sting of Araminta’s slap, her ears started ringing and her eyes began to tear. Sophie wasn't sure if it was from pain or anger. Perhaps both.

“Repeat after me. I am a bastard child.” Araminta leaned in with an evil smirk on her face. Sophie’s silence only served to rile Araminta further. With a glint in her eyes, Araminta yanked on the hair of the young maid, who was watching everything on the side. Looking at Sophie briefly, Araminta laid hands on the maid.

“What do you think you’re doing!” Sophie yelled. There was no need for manners in this situation. Araminta didn’t deserve any either.

“Say it.” Araminta threatened as she tightened the grip on the young maid’s hair. Sophie looked at the quivering girl, guilty for implicating her. Seeing Sophie’s ‘defiance’, Araminta delivered another slap to the maid’s face. One that was stronger than before.

“I am a bastard child.” Sophie shut her eyes as she forced herself to repeat Araminta’s words. Shame on you, Sophie.

“Again. I am a bastard child unworthy of love.” Araminta swelled with a disgusting sense of superiority.

“I…am a bastard child…unworthy…of love.” Sophie's throat felt like it was on fire as she swallowed the insult.

“Good. Remember your place.” Araminta was pleased with herself. A bastard child like her needs to know her place.

“Let us leave.” Sophie held the young maid’s shaking hand and pulled her along. Sophie needed to leave before she broke down in Araminta’s sight. That would merely feed her unfounded ego.

“Sophie, I'm sorry.” The young maid knew Sophie did so to protect her.

“Araminta wasn't wrong. I am a bastard child.” Sophie let out a slow and painful sigh, deciding that giving in was perhaps easier than fighting.

“Sophie!” Sophie's body reacted to Hyacinth's voice before her brain could.

“Yes, Hyacinth?” Sophie peeked into the hall.

“The cookies! I wanted to share the cookies that Daphne brought!” Hyacinth beckoned for Sophie to join the rest. Violet, Kate, Daphne, Eloise, Francesca and Hyacinth were all gathered for tea.

“Sophie, come join us.” Eloise made space next to her. Sophie hesitated as she stared at the empty space on the plush couch. She wasn't worthy of the couch.

“See Eloise, Sophie doesn't want to sit with you. Sophie, sit next to me!” Hyacinth tapped the space next to her as she looked at Sophie with a huge grin.

“I'm sure Sophie wants to sit next to me. Sophie?” Daphne offered. Sophie remained rooted at the entrance, overwhelmed by the kind offers.

“Is something the matter, Sophie?” Kate approached Sophie with worry in her eyes.

“You're crying…” Kate bent down to look at Sophie.

Before Sophie knew it, Kate had led her into the hall and the Bridgerton ladies surrounded her.

“Did someone mistreat you, Sophie?” Daphne questioned.

“Did Ben bother you? I'll go talk to him…” Eloise added while adjusting her dress in preparation to confront Benedict.

“Is work too harsh for you?” Hyacinth wondered.

“Let us know what is bothering you and we can fix it, Sophie.” Violet's warm and concerned tone disarmed whatever self-control Sophie had left.

“Sorry, it's just…” Sophie hadn’t felt such genuine love and kindness for as long as she could remember. Heck, she didn’t even have any memory to speak of.

“You’re part of us, Sophie.” Kate pulled Sophie into a hug. Perhaps Kate understood Sophie the best.

“You, Sophie, deserve love. I don’t know what Lady Penwood told you but if there’s one thing you deserve, it is love. The love of a parent, the love of a family and the love of a man who cherishes you deeply.” Violet’s heart for Sophie had only grown since the day Benedict first brought her home.

“Mama’s right. You have us now. We’ll be your family. We’ll love you.” Daphne and her sisters couldn’t be happier to have a sister like Sophie.

For her entire life, Sophie had done everything to earn the love she deserved. Perhaps what Sophie deserved was a love she didn’t ever need to work for. And that came in the form of the Bridgertons.

#sophie baek #sophie beckett #yerin ha #bridgerton #benophie #luke thompson #benedict bridgerton #bridgerton ladies #violet bridgerton #daphne bridgerton #eloise bridgerton #francesca bridgerton #hyacinth bridgerton #kate sharma #we need sophie and the whole bridgerton girl gang tgt in s4

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demonslayedher · 5 months ago

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Well... after spending most of my day languidly sighing about having to wait for more content but how much that content is gonna hurt, I did my rewatch with a friend and we spent about an hour pouring over every detail of it and how good it was, as well as our apprehension about the pacing of combining other content into movies. As much as we'd love to see a return to a 60 episode anime arc for the sake of momentum, we come to Ufotable expecting quality, and they wouldn't decide to do this unless they had a plan for how to make it quality. Try though I might to guess how and where they'll split this into three movies, it's all guesswork (heck, maybe they'll even switch the order of things around so that Douma's defeat comes before Akaza's for the sake of a more complete-feeling movie.

But the thing that makes me most sad about the announcement, now that it is official and not just a rumor, is that I don't know how long I have to wait.

And what will I get at the end of this wait? The death I fear watching the most, and they're gonna make me go through that in the theater, and not even at the end of the movie. That's gonna be almost right at the start.

Phew. Anyway. We really did gush and gush and gush and gush about everything that was so good in this episode, and it's because of this that I trust Ufotable (mostly). There is SO MUCH to gush about it, and it doesn't just come down to the slow-mo explosion and use of color to show how healthy Muzan is in comparison to Kagaya and the layering and timing of images and sound, but also just what the editorial decisions did to take Gotouge's characterization and make it unmistakable.

It's such a good reminder than what has kept me so deeply in this is the characters themselves, the layers going on between what we're given. Like, Kagaya only being able to trust Himejima with this mission, knowing there is a possibility Himejima will have to hold his own against Muzan, for who knows how long, and how is touched by Kagaya's faith in him, and how the unsurprising realization settles that this will indeed be a fight until sunrise, and the relief as well as the pride he feels when the other Hashira assemble so quickly, and the way his voice cracks when he announces who they are looking at? And nobody else made that connection except for Tanjiro, for their thoughts were so wrapped up in either holding out some desperate hope that their master might respond to them calling out his name like Mitsuri and Iguro, or like Sanemi consumed with the thought this demon, whoever he is, killed their master, for again, only Tanjiro who smelled the explosives seems to realize right away that this was on purpose? And the fact that Kagaya thought through every one of those five Hashira, and decided one by one that he couldn't tell them his plan? Even Shinobu, who herself has the very same plan and has discussed it with Kagaya, cannot be entrusted with the knowledge that he plans to use himself as bait. And that Kagaya, for every word he said, he was very consciously stretching that out, second by second, knowing that any extra innocuous thing he can get Muzan to listen to, whether it be prattling about tigers and dragons or asking Amane what he looks like, is going to save his children precious seconds of having to keep an onslaught going until sunrise. The little touches of characterization, like drawing us in to wonder if Zenitsu is sleeping and then revealing that no, indeed he is not, and the fact that Nichika and Hinaki had to choose to go outside, to a courtyard where a stranger was already standing, to start playing and do their best to play up their innocence for the sake of adding seconds more of distraction, and the way Kagaya turns toward Amane in the very last second, and Giyuu looking for Tanjiro as they fall, and despite everyone else stuck in free fall or smacking into things, Tanjiro, the only one who has seen Muzan before, is the only one to find his footing, is such a good main character moment.

And the "people's feelings are inextinguishable" moment among candlelit graves? Thank you. I had been thinking about those graves ever since we didn't see them in any of Muzan's strut through the previous episode.

Okay, speaking of linking images with sounds and lines, the fact that Kagaya brings up how Muzan hasn't been forgiven for ruthlessly taking away others' lives, and how it focuses especially on Hinaki and Nichika, whom Kagaya has already chosen to do the same to? And the hot linger of slaughters innocents represented by all those toy balls? AND HOW EVERY MOMENT MADE US MANGA READERS FLINCH AND THINK "NOW IT BLOWS UP"? Yeah, that was good.

Also, Japanese Netflix did not include the Taisho Secret. I don't know if this extra-secret Taisho Secret was only available on FujiTV or something, but when it comes to the mood this episode set me into, I'm glad I didn't initially see it. While I'm generally happy it exists (and I've been hoping for this kind of content ever since the previous season), I wish they would have had a little more restraint to make it sweeter. But hey, it was still sweet and I bought a sweet potato today for obvious reasons.

#godspeed to anyone who makes sense of this because this sentences are probably not very coherent

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shkudss · 2 years ago

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Weakened by Eywa Pt. 5

Masterlist

Summary: Ao'nung finally realizes that his actions have consequences

Warnings: curse words, bullying, mental breakdown, English isn't my first language

Author's note: guys I’m so sorry that I didn’t tagged those who voted in the poll😭 I had no idea that it’s anonymous and you can’t see those who vote🥲 I’m really really sorry!!! Please, text me or comment if you want to be tagged. I hope you won’t get upset by this

Yawntutsyip - darling, little loved one

Yaymak - foolish, ignorant

Tsmukan - brother

Sa’nu - mommy

Metiyawn - love (plural)

“Now you can’t call me helpless, water boy.” After finally learning how to ride ilu, you were really playful, swimming with Ao’nung.

“Yeah, that’s because I was your teacher. Otherwise you would be helpless.” Light smile was on his face as he was talking to you. “Hey, who first reaches that stone will be the winner!”

It was really sudden game, but you managed to react fast. Even though your swimming skills improved significantly, you still were far from Ao’nung’s skills. He was way faster and was already standing on that huge stone and looking down at you. His skin was lighter on the sun.

“Come here, I’ll help you” you were about to thank him, but then he added “Loser” and chuckled at your unpleased face.

“Hey! You’re stronger than me and you are water na’vi. I’ll look at you running on the trees and trying to keep your balance with that thick tail!” You pushed his shoulder a little when he helped you to climb up.

“Yeah, I would probably be loser in the forest. I remember you almost killing me that day, I didn’t even recognize you at first. You were in your element and I understood that you’re actually strong. Surprisingly, not really loser.” Ao’nung laughed at last sentence and you pushed him again, but also had fun.

“Yeah, forest is my home. I don’t know how it is possible for people to claim that sea is their home. We’re actually different as you said before.” You sat on the warm stone and looked at the sunset.

“Yes, but we’re still all na’vis, children of Eywa and I didn’t understand it before.” Ao’nung joined you, you were so close that your shoulders were touching each other. “Y/N, you know I’m really sorry what what I did and said. Even though you said you forgave me, I, myself cannot forget it.” His aquatic eyes were looking far at the horizon.

“You don’t need to forget it, you must forgive yourself. I forgive you, but I will never forget about it and that’s not bad. You need to learn from your and others’ mistakes. It is your life and experience. But it is also your choice how to react on all these things happening to you. I could choose not to forgive you and I would be a lifelong burden for both of us. You could choose to be blind and not see anything wrong in your actions and it would break me and my family more and more. But we made our decisions and we’re here now, being friends and having this conversation. It is because we choose peace. Inside us and around us.” You placed your hand on his chest, explaining your thoughts and forgetting about boundaries.

Ao’nung didn’t respond to you, but placed his hand over yours on his chest. You looked up at him and met his gaze. It was so intimate, you could feel the whole atmosphere between you changing vitally. You wanted to remove your hand, but he didn’t let you do this, holding it solidly.

“What are you doing, Ao’nung? Why are you looking at me like this?” All your confidence and playfulness disappeared.

You could feel him examining you. Your eyes, your hair, you lips, your hands. Ao’nung wanted to look at you all day long. Enjoying your beauty and wisdom. You captured his heart, his soul not even knowing about it.

“If you were the Sun, I would burn my eyes but keep looking at you every day. If you were a bird, I would spend all days in the forest listening to you.” He took your other hand, stroking it softly. “I know I hurt you deeply and I know it might be too early to say that as we’ve recently just came to peace. But I don’t know how I can live another day keeping it inside. You told that it is my choice how to react on things happening to me. This thing has been making me crazy for so long and I finally made my choice, Y/N.”

You felt your heart blowing inside of you. You didn’t know what to do or to say. Ao’nung was looking at you for a couple of seconds and then his face got as close to yours that you could feel his warm breath. Your knees felt weak at that type of closeness. One second and he leaves a little kiss in the corner of your lips.

Your eyes widened, breath is our of control. He looks right into your eyes, trying to catch your emotions. Ao’nung is also nervous, but he can’t show it to you since he is a future warrior, Olo'eyktan of the Metkayina. He wants to look strong and mighty in front of you.

“Y/N…”

“I… I need…” all words left your mind “I need to think it over.”

And you left him, running away from that stone. You didn’t even notice how you ended up riding ilu back to your marui. Your heartbeat was going crazy every time you remembered his lips on yours.

“What’s going on..?” You placed your hand on your heart trying to calm down. “Why my heart is beating so fast?”

“Y/N, are you okay?”

Mother’s voice distracted you. She knew something was wrong, you looked shocked. Even your hands were shaking a little.

“What happened? Someone annoyed you?”

“No, I just… I think I have feelings, but I’m not sure.” Neytiri led you to the Marui, looking at you worried.

“You mean feelings to a boy?”

“Yes, he kissed me.” It was hard for you to tell the truth, especially to your mom. You were embarrassed.

“Who was that?” Neytiri was actually excited to know that you’re getting used to the life here. You build your own story here.

“I’m not ready to tell it yet. But I don’t know what to do. He kissed me in the corner of my lips and I ran away. Is he going to hate me?” Helpless look on your face made your mom feel the wave of love. You’re still a kid who is getting through first romantic feeling.

“It’s okay, don’t worry. If he had true feelings to you he won’t be mad.” Her words easined your heart. “But you have to talk to him and explain everything, if you really value him.”

“Okay, thank you sa’nu.” You hugged Neytiri. You really needed it. “I will go for a walk. I need to think about everything.”

“Okay, but don’t be out for too long. You better be home before the eclipse.”

***

You’d been sitting in your place in the forest for the past 2 hours and trying to understand what you feel. That kiss put you out of your stride completely. You wouldn’t even think about having feelings to Ao’nung if he didn’t do this.

These days, every time you got physically close to each other you felt a little awkward and shy which is unusual for you. This never happened with Roxto or other guys.

“Do I like him?” As you asked yourself you felt your heartbeat increasing.

“Y/N, what are you doing here? We’ve been looking for you.” You saw Neteyam coming out from the bushes.

“Sorry, I was just thinking, this place is peaceful.” You moved a little to let your brother sit next to you. “I thought it’s my secret place, but I guess it’s not.”

“Yeah, sorry.” He looked at you apologizing. “What are you thinking about? I see you’re worried.”

“I don’t think you would like to hear it.”

“C’mon, I’m your big brother. I won’t get mad, promise.” He patted you on the head, waiting for your speech.

“I think, I have feelings to Ao’nung.” you were really cautious when revealed the truth. “He kissed me today and I don’t know what to do.”

You were afraid to look at him. Silence made you nervous.

“I see.”

Neteyam looked thoughtful. You had no idea what’s going on in his mind. For you his opinion on this was the most important. You really needed his support as an older brother.

“Talk to him.”

————————————————————————

A/N: Heyyy! I hope you liked it! I’m so happy for their developing relationships and that everyone is so supportive🥹 I’m really excited about next part! I think it’s going to be the last one, but we’ll see! I have ideas for some one-shots and I can’t wait to finish think work and write them🙈 Also, sorry for the delay, I’m really busy at school these days🥲

Taglist: @elegantkidfansoul @ijwsbdinp @universal-s1ut @myh3artt @lynbubble @jjkclub @kenzi-woycehoski @marvellover4 @ssc7514 @stvrligghtt @johfaam @simplecole18 @flavaliz @chrisbelle @bajadotcom @jak3suiiyscvmslvt @a--1--1--3 @roxannedaybreakermidnight @aonungmyaddiction @neteyamsmate4life @boilingpots @fanboyluvr @zilena9 @maxiel4life

I couldn’t tag those, whose nicknames are in red:(

#aonung #aonung x female reader #aonung x reader #aonung x sully!reader #aonung x y/n #aonung x you #neteyam x sister!reader #avatar 2 #avatar fanfiction #avatar twow #lo’ak x sister!reader #neteyam #loak x sister!reader #loak #ao’nung #ao’nung x you

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magnetosupporter · 5 months ago

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Sooo

lately since ive been reading the comics and watching the '92's show I have come up with a thought that i guess only tumblr fandom may welcome it and i'd to share it with you guys

well, since watching xmen 97 i have been completly in love with rogneto, and even went to read the comics to know more about them and their relationship and what had lead them towards the end so she actually end up marrying another guy, and dont get me wrong, i do enjoy watching gambit and think he's a funny character, cool powers and memorable lines, but i do not like to see him with rogue, but ive came to be cool with this fact since he makes her happy.

ever since watched EP. 5 i had the thought that he was somehow ""childish"" on what he said to rogue when she taught him about her previous relationship, and at first, i did get it, he was hurt, hurt to see she choosing somebody else. choosing someone he thought was no good (in all ways possible) and most important, choosing someone who could give her what he could not.

I mean, he's not wrong, indeed, there are some things deeper than skin, everyone knows that, but not this, not for her. I think, love is so much more than sex, but sex is also a part of love. You can say you love someone without ever have touched them, but sometimes, some moments, when you're so in love you wish to... kiss them. To hold their hands, to hug them, to strip them out of their clothes and touch them bare, kind of touch so intimate, so deep, to bring happiness and pleasure to the other and get yours from it. Its not the thought "someone has their needs", we can live without sex, its okay, but sometimes you wish more, and you are not wrong for dreaming big. Rogue has the right to dream big, to love, to touch, to give herself to someone and be loved, touched, desired. She has the right to have dirty fantasies and even, maybe, dream of having children of her own.

It is unfair to her to remind her what she alredy knows. She never forgot her love for gambit, for the thing deeper than her skin, but with that she was also reminded that even with happy moments she couldn't kiss him desperatly without bringing him pain. It is not causing herself pain that scares her, but hurting someone she loves the most. And we gotta agree that he saying that to her was probaply the most unfair thing someone could have ever said to another. Gambit was wrong, and unfair. And i do think he was childish in this moment, even though he was also hurt.

With saying this to her, I think he scared her, wronged her for choosing herself, her dreams and needs over love. Im not saying "she should have choose sex over love", because I know her moment with Erik was long gone, and probably wasnt so deep as the present one with gambit, but i do know she loved Erik, as he was wholeheartly given to her. There was just so more complex things between rogneto than i could say right now, but the point is: she has the right of being loved, and choosing this for her, even if it isnt with somebody we would like to.

She has the right of choosing herself and not being called selfish for that, because she is not wrong. She cannot be wrong in this matter, its her life we are talking about. We know how much of a hell her powers are to her, so, how can you blame her for choosing a path that wrong bring her or the ones she loves pain??

I do know that in the comics she learns how to control her powers and so many more things, but im talking about EP. 5, that little moment when everything seemed so... hard to go thru. Do not wrong my girl, she deserves to be happy and dont even try saying shit about Erik to favor your r*my, because Magneto may has done plenty wrong things in his life, but he also loved her more than he could put into words. He loves her in every universe, even if she does not choose him.

(not to forget the difference between their reaction on being rejected, but this is a matter for another time)

#rogneto #x men 97 #magneto #erik lehnsherr #anna marie #rogueneto #anna marie lehnsherr #fuck off rogneto haters #rogue #rogue x magneto

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agendabymooner · 1 year ago

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about names: an amazing boy with an amazing name || cl16 scenario (1)

dad!charles leclerc x mom!ofc (hearth sister!ofc)

EXTENSION OF OF LONG LINES AND NAMES AND THE LECLERC DAYCARE

Summary: The Leclerc boys and their names go hand in hand. OR times when Charles and his wife Aimee had to explain that their children’s names are meaningful.

Scenario summary: Charles and Aimee wondered what Hervé meant when he said that his name was silly and that he hated it. Thank goodness, Pascale Leclerc was the one that the boy cannot refuse as she comforts her grandson.

Content warning: Kids teasing kids, possible use of explicit language, fluff, dad!Charles content, the Leclerc family (Pascale and Leclerc brothers) content, briefly mentions Charles' dad, crappy French translations by Apple, sad kids being comforted, fluff, what is beta reading we write things at 2am and post it after lol

Note: One more before I dash out of my dorm for the day lmfaoo

masterlist

Aimee Leclerc was no stranger to chatty kids and pick-up schedules, so it was no wonder why she immediately found herself in front of the elementary school that stood gloriously in the middle of Monte-Carlo as she waited for her two children to be dismissed from the class for the day.

It was a routine of hers now that her work in McLaren had become remote. Five children took up all of her time and between them and her work— she would’ve immediately left the company if the team made her choose. She’d rather be in Monaco while Charles continued to pursue his career as a racing driver.

Zak Brown was empathetic enough to understand that a set of children wouldn’t be able to have a stable routine should they continue to travel around the world just to be with their parents who worked overseas, offering Aimee a chance to work at home and adapt to a better routine as she took care of her children.

She could wait patiently if anybody ever asked her. She had no problem, knowing that she was able to finish her work long before she could pick up her eldest children.

But the energy that her children had shown merely told her enough: they might have been either excited to see her or they thought that she was rushing them. She caught a glimpse of her twins as they stepped out of the elementary school, their uniforms somehow tidy and less wrinkled despite their busy day.

“Maman! Devinez quoi?” Guess what? Jules jumped excitedly as he wrapped his arms around Aimee tightly, still jumpy and giddy as he spoke in English, “We did our quiz in maths!”

“Oh? Is that right, J?” Aimee asked with a smile, her fingers running through her son’s wavy hair. It was surprising how her children’s hair continued to lose its volume as years passed— it was becoming more like Charles’ hair.

They were mini Charleses, indeed.

“Yes, Maman! I also— uh…” It seemed like Jules ran out of English immediately as he said, “J'ai fait si bien! Je n'ai perdu qu'un point!” I did so good! I only lost one point!

Aimee was merely thankful that she could understand French and Italian, or rather, she was thankful her private teacher taught her how to speak those languages; otherwise, she wouldn’t be able to understand her multilingual-speaking children.

She primarily spoke English and had grown up practicing a standard accent in her Received Pronunciation. She never adapted to her husband’s speaking style, but learned to understand it nevertheless. Their children were being raised in Monaco, after all, and most people spoke in French or Italian. She was only thankful that she was able to teach them to speak English to preserve that part of them. Most of their cousins are raised in England and this gave them the opportunity to converse in that language.

Anyways.

Aimee beamed at her son and exclaimed, “A good job done, Jules!” Then she turned to look at her other son, who was unusually quiet for such a normal day. Hervé, as Aimee learned while nurturing her ever-growing children, was never quiet — he was one of the boys who would often cause ruckus inside the Leclerc home. If he’s silent like this then Aimee knew he was feeling something along the lines of upset.

Hervé was never upset. He was so much like his grandfather— his namesake. So joyous. Why was he feeling so down? Aimee didn’t know.

“Hervé, my love,” Aimee called softly, but he couldn’t hear. Jules turned to look at his twin and noticed the boy disassociated, giving his brother’s shirt a tug as Hervé finally looked up. The Leclerc matriarch (2.0) smiled gently and asked, “Is it a long day for you?”

“Oui, Maman,” he replied quietly, offering her a nod and nothing more.

Aimee had led them to the Aston Martin family SUV as soon as he answered and drove off to head home. Jules was chatting Aimee’s ears off and it somehow defeaned her. It wasn’t because Jules was loud, no; Hervé wasn’t even talking, and his silence defeaned her.

“Herb,” she called as she looked at the rear view mirror, noticing how his jaw clenched before crossing his arms. “Hervé?”

“Stupid, silly name,” Jules hadn’t seen Hervé mutter those words beneath his breath but Aimee certainly had, leaving the mother confused. What the hell was happening?

“H,” Aimee called once more. Hervé’s angry eyes finally looked up to meet Aimee’s worried ones. Even if she wanted to remind him to calm down, she knew that it would lead to his outburst so she avoided it and asked, “Da’s home? Do you want to tell him about your maths quiz today? Maybe you and Jules can show him the art you made for Mademoiselle Blanc?”

“Hmp,” the eldest Leclerc twin huffed, turning away from his mother and looking out the window.

Jules’s eyes narrowed as he gave a brief glimpse at Aimee, turning towards his twin, “Are you okay, H?”

“Oui,” Hervé muttered, acting as some sort of assurance, but this only made Jules look at his mother with worry. Aimee flashed a smile at her son before continuing to drive on the way home. It was another thing that the Leclerc boys had gotten from their father; they were bad liars.

It only got worse when Aimee pulled up to their driveway, and the boys made their way inside. Jules dashed out of the car with his backpack to navigate his way around the house, trying to find their father before he gasped, “Da!”

Aimee watched her other son carefully, trying to read Hervé’s behaviour as he walked past Aimee. She still wasn’t sure what was going on.

“Oh! Hello, Jules!” Charles Leclerc, a Ferrari driver who had just returned from a doubleheader, grinned gracefully at the sight of his son. In his arm was one of his young twins, Anthoine — or Tony, for most people — while the other half of the pair, Alain, sat on the playmat with his book propped open. “Comment va l'école aujourd'hui?” How is school today?

“Very good, Da!” Jules grinned toothily, “Madame Hurst m'a donné une étoile pour mon quiz de mathématiques!” Mrs. Hurst gave me a star for my maths quiz!

“Ah, really? Cela signifie que vous avez fait un excellent travail en étudiant avec maman alors,” it means you’ve done a good job at studying with Mummy, then. Charles glanced past Aimee’s legs, seeing the other pair of his twins as he greeted the quiet boy, “Bonjour, Hervé. Comment allez-vous?” Good afternoon, Hervé. How are you?

“D'accord, Da,” Fine. Hervé muttered, his irritation noticed easily by his father as Charles scowled lightly. Every adult in their family knew that it meant trouble if Charles gave this look.

At first, the Ferrari driver tried to make a light of the situation, “Why the long face, Hervé? The more you do that, the more you’ll look like your Uncle Toto. Give Da a smile?”

“No,” but Hervé wasn’t having it as he snapped at his father firmly, the tip of his ears turning red as he stomped off.

“No?”

“Don’t call me that!” Hervé snapped, his eyes turning dark as he got angry and upset.

“What? Hervé—“ Charles tried to reason out, but the 7-year-old was anything but reasonable at the moment.

“I’m not Hervé! Don’t call me that! It’s a stupid name!”

Charles could have sworn that he, too, was seeing red as he placed the toddler in his arms before marching off the playroom. He followed after his son and exclaimed, “Hervé Louis Sebastien René Mathieu Leclerc! Come back here!”

“No! No more talking! Leave me alone, Da!”

Thud. The boy had just slammed the door on his father’s face, and Charles— Charles was fuming.

He loves his boys dearly; he does. But it was moments like this that somehow made him different from the loving father that he is. He wasn’t even sure why he was so upset— was it because of the fact that his son just yelled that he didn’t want to talk, or did he just hear his son say that his father’s name was stupid? He wasn’t sure.

He was just… upset and confused.

Charles wasn’t sure where he’d gone wrong with becoming a parent to his sons. He did everything he could despite being a busy driver— he took care of them whenever Aimee was out, he taught them how to be kind to other people and he taught them how to love. Hervé had never been this upset before and it bothered Charles and Aimee to no end. What was he genuinely upset about?

Then they both recalled what the boy said. Hervé wasn’t his name. He thought that the name was silly, from what Aimee had told Charles. Where did that even come from?

“I— truthfully, I don’t even know where that came from, Charles,” Aimee admitted as she sat with him on the couch that night, sighing heavily while the driver rested his head against his hand.

They tried asking the boy, from asking him to come down for dinner (with Aimee giving up and leaving a bowl of rice and chicken in front of his door) to Charles asking to come into his room (with Charles not receiving any form of response). But alas, Hervé had no response. He didn’t even respond when they tried to ask if he’d like to come over to his Uncle Lorenzo or Arthur’s place.

No luck.

“He didn’t mention anything at all,” she continued, keeping her voice down to avoid waking any of their children up. “He was muttering to himself, I’ve no bloody clue he was upset.”

“I didn’t know either,” Charles murmured, grabbing a hold of her hand and kissing the knuckles of it. “He isn’t normally like this— he’d tell us if there’s something wrong.”

It was true. Hervé, much like the other Leclerc children, never got into a fight with a friend before. He was upfront about his feelings and would tell either his parents or playmate about being upset. There were some instances when he almost snapped but otherwise managed to control his emotions— he was so much like his brothers and mother in a sense. Aimee always approached them with the five-finger solution before they could even burst into tears or anger.

So, for Hervé to keep quiet?

Even Aimee couldn’t get an answer from him. What did he mean by his name was a stupid name? Charles asked himself this a couple of times.

His name was Hervé— that was a typical French name, no? What made Hervé think that his name, his late grandfather’s name, was silly? Charles tried approaching his son about the matter every minute since the boys got home from school, but much to his dismay, the boy evaded him.

But there was only one person that Hervé wouldn’t refuse to answer. Much like his late grandfather, Hervé never refused his Mamé.

So the next day, Pascale Leclerc — the grandmother of the Leclerc boys — took the liberty to have a day off with the upset boy. Jules felt incomplete without Hervé in the school but went nonetheless, and the five-year-old boy PJ went to kindergarten while Aimee, Charles and the youngest twins went out. Pascale stayed at home with Hervé and baked cookies with him.

After putting the cookie dough into the preheated oven, Pascale served the boy some tea, to which Hervé gratefully drank as his grandmother sat across from him.

She sighed and placed a hand on his knee, “Est-il vrai que tu t'es fâché contre ton père, Hervé?” Is it true that you got angry with your dad, Hervé? She asked, her question leaving him frozen as he looked at Pascale guiltily.

Hervé carefully sat his mug down on the table and nodded solemnly, not uttering a word. Pascale asked, “Has it been a rough day for you? That’s why you got angry?”

Hervé shook his head as Pascale suggested, “Veux-tu dire à Mamé ce qui t'a mis en colère? Peut-être pouvons-nous trouver une solution ensemble?” Will you tell Mamé what has gotten you angry? Maybe we can find a solution together?

The longer the silence lasted, the more the tears flowed out of Hervé’s eyes as his lips pursed and trembled. The poor boy couldn’t help but stammer, “Mon nom est tellement silly et stupide, Mamé!” My name is so silly and stupid! He continued to cry out, “Kylian a dit que mon nom venait de «Herbe et fromage» et c'est très stupide! Je n'aime pas mon nom, Mamé!” Kylian said that my name came from ‘Herb and cheese’ and that it’s stupid! I don’t like my name, Mamé!

Pascale’s eyes nearly teared up at the confession that Hervé made. He hated his name because someone made him feel like it wasn’t worth appreciating. Her poor grandson was subjected to this kind of behaviour, which felt so… disheartening.

“Oh, Hervé,” Pascale immediately reached out to soothe the boy, shushing him quietly while he sobbed. His eyes shut as tears continued to flow down, soaking Pascale’s cardigan in the process. “Your name is not stupid or silly; did you know that?”

His crying lasted for several minutes, with Pascale patiently soothing him in the process. When his sobbing quietened, Pascale took this as an opportunity to tell him about his name.

She sighed shakily, not wanting to shed a tear or two as she explained, “Da, Uncle Lorenzo and Uncle Arthur had their own Da— you have seen him before in the pictures, oui?” She felt the boy nod through her chest as she hummed and continued, “That was your Papy. Do you know what his name was? His name was Hervé.”

“Her—“ the boy hiccuped. “Hervé? Like me?”

“Oui, mon amour,” Pascale replied with a soft smile, “Hervé like you.”

“You are sooo much like your Papy Hervé, that is why Maman and Da named you after him,” Pascale continued, “you are as funny and happy as him. When he was still alive I used to call him Herb. I loved him so much, mon chou.

“And when he was gone, your Da and your uncles filled the rest of the space in my heart that you and your brothers soon took over,” Pascale smiled, “and I think that your name is beautiful like it is with my Herb’s.”

“It is?”

“Oui, my love,” Pascale replied, “your name is what keeps your Papy’s memories alive for your Da and your uncles. Do not let anyone think that it is a silly name because you are an amazing boy with an amazing name. Your Maman and Da love you so much, and your Da? He loved his Papa so much that he decided to name another person he loved after him. That’s you, mon cœur.”

Ever since then, Hervé learned how to embrace his name and would often explain to everyone where his name came from, even in the grid and paddock.

Nobody needed to ask where his name came from— after all, he is Hervé Leclerc. He was just as joyful and enthusiastic as his grandfather.

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gloriousburden · 10 months ago

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Debunking the “thanos brainwashed loki” theory (kind of)

DISCLAIMER: i don’t really have any problems with people taking this theory more lighthearted/just as an headcanon/au sort of thing, my issue is when it is accepted as fully canon, and words, meanings, and statements in interviews are completely twisted. people too often use it to mischaracterize loki, and disregard any of his motives, acts, and issues.

when i first got into the mcu and started interacting with the fandom, i too believed this theory when i first heard about it. until i thought about it a little more, and learned more about loki.

i’m aware that this is a little controversial to say since a lot of people truly take the theory as canon and have basically forever now… but in all honesty i REALLY don’t think it’s true. but let me just state that yes, loki definitely was persuaded/coerced into doing the things he did in avengers by thanos and his goons in order to retrieve the tesseract, that’s very canon as we can see in the scene of loki interacting with the other. loki fears thanos for a reason. thanos is a piece of shit and is shown to be a piece of shit to others including nebula and gamora, who were supposed to be his “daughters”. if he would torture his own “children”, why wouldn’t he torture and subject a stranger that he wanted to use to get the tesseract? so loki definitely was tortured.

i know there’s these two interviews, one with tom hiddleston (here) and the other with joss whedon that confirm loki went through a lot of horrible things between the ending of thor 1 and the beginning of avengers. they don’t necessarily give any specifics, just that it was really bad for him. please forgive me as i cannot find the joss whedon one right now, but i believe it was a video. the article with tom hiddleston which i’ve linked, is him saying “I think somewhere between the end of Thor and the beginning of The Avengers, Loki has been to the Marvel equivalent of the 7th circle of hell. At the end of Thor you see him let go. He lets go of the spear, he lets go of Asgard, and he lets go of the need of his brother and father’s affection and approval. He has bigger plans now.” and joss whedon pretty much said the same (in regards to loki going through horrible things between thor and avengers) from what i remember.

(but even with that being said, i’m going to focus more on canon rather than interviews.)

i’m not here to disprove that loki was tortured, i fully believe that he was and it makes sense considering thanos’ character, but i’m here to prove that he wasn’t FULLY brainwashed into doing what he did.

also trust me, i know that most of the movies loki has been in disregard a lot of the shit he’s been through, but i do feel that if he was truly forced into it, it would’ve been elaborated on. which i will elaborate on in this post.

…………………………………………………………………………….

if anyone was brainwashed into committing the acts loki committed in avengers, they would be very distraught and traumatized when they eventually gained full consciousness and realized that they did those things. examples of this in the mcu being clint (who is literally in the same movie), as well as bucky who really was brainwashed by hydra into being an assassin, and is shown as being deeply traumatized when the brainwashing is undone. even if he didn’t commit those acts intentionally, and in his own will.

we can see in the dark world that loki was not really shown to be regretful about what he did. and honestly, i don’t think that was just them choosing not to show loki as being vulnerable, or them disregarding loki’s issues (per usual) because we actually get to see some of his true feelings, as well as him having a breakdown in the movie. he is willingly vulnerable. “now you see me, brother.”

he is shown to be deeply troubled, and vengeful about the possibility of him unintentionally leading algrim/kurse to frigga, the fact he was locked up and unable to be of any sort of help, as well as obviously frigga’s death in general. it was something that was truly done unintentionally by loki.

if loki had really unintentionally, and unconsciously committed the acts he did, he would be shown to be very distraught about it in the dark world, and it would’ve been elaborated on.

the approach the writers, as well as tom hiddleston wanted to take for loki’s character in the dark world was one that showed us as the audience, and as fans of loki more about him, as well as to see him at his most vulnerable, so why would they leave out his supposed trauma from brainwashing? because that’s not really how it happened.

they would have shown him be vulnerable about being brainwashed, and doing something unintentionally if it were something that really happened. since loki’s writing in the dark world was meant to “humanize” him. we’ve seen him at his most villainous in the last movie, so now let’s see him at his lowest in the one after that.

a major point of mine that disproves the theory is that although loki is shown to fear thanos, he’s not necessarily doing this whole thing JUST for him. he is also focused on ruling over earth, rather than just retrieving the tesseract.

if he was brainwashed, however, he would’ve got the tesseract to thanos without anything in return. thanos wouldn’t have had to bargain with loki, or offer earth/an army to him. he would have just mind controlled him with the scepter, the same way loki did with clint, and called it a day.

another point that disproves the theory is that if loki truly was mind controlled by the scepter, he would act almost robotic, and would be quite still, only doing things when told/motioned to the same way clint was when the scepter was first used on him in the beginning of the movie. (i’ve linked this scene further down in this post when i talk about the misconceptions of loki’s eyes being the same blue as the character’s who were mind controlled.) loki clearly says, and does whatever he wants in the movie. this would not really be the case if he were being mind controlled.

(also another example of loki realizing he had partially caused something unintentionally was thor’s banishment. he is shown to be quite nervous about the fact that thor got banished, although it did end up working in his favor later on in the movie.)

loki has shown many times, even before avengers when he is undeniably a villain, that he has no issues with hurting people to get what he wants. people who use the theory and accept it as canon often (i kind of hate this word, so forgive me for the lack of better words) infantilize and mischaracterize loki as being this character who is completely innocent, and helpless. and that he only became “bad” in avengers. meanwhile loki has always (always meaning since after/during the events of thor 1) been shown as a manipulative character with dark thoughts and violent tendencies. in thor 1, he committed genocide against the frost giants BEFORE he was under the influence of thanos or the scepter.

(let me state that i’m not saying loki is a bad person or a psychopath who just goes off hurting people left and right merely for the fun of it. i’ve elaborated on this, as well as loki’s motives in this post. but basically i’m saying that loki does everything he does with reason, and purpose. he is conniving, and calculated with his decisions. he doesn’t get satisfaction in hurting people, he gets satisfaction in getting closer to his goals.)

loki is already a “tragic victim” type character. you don’t need to erase that he’s capable of and willing to do wrong, and imply that those things were very out of character for him to prove that. characters can simultaneously do bad things out of their own will, while having a shitty past. not all victimized characters are completely innocent, and without flaws.

loki is never shown to have any love for midgard, or midgardians in general. he genuinely wanted to rule over them. in thor 1, loki says “i never wanted the throne, i only ever wanted to be your equal.” in thor 1. but in avengers, he says “i’ve grown, odinson, in my exile.” showing that he, and his motives have changed since then. he’s not the same person he was in thor 1, begging for his father’s love and recognition. not wanting a throne isn’t the case for him anymore. if he wasn’t able to prove himself to his own father, then midgardians were the next option.

in the dark world, loki no longer cares for odin’s approval. “he’s not my father!” “i didn’t do it for him.” as well as banishing/exiling him, and taking his throne. his focus shifting from odin’s approval as his own son in thor 1, to the approval of midgard as their king in avengers, to the approval of asgard as their king in the dark world, shows how loki’s character and his motives developed and changed with each movie. he realized that odin will never approve of him as his own son, let alone as king of asgard. thor 1 was just the start.

the reason this is relevant to disproving the theory, as well as the points i’m trying to make are:

1. the motives were already there. the will to do bad things, was already there before thanos and even the scepter’s influence/interference.

2. loki has changed between thor 1 and avengers, and he didn’t need to be brainwashed for this change to happen. he didn’t change and become “evil” because of what thanos put him through.

3. some people who take the theory as canon, believe that loki is fully good and would have never willingly hurt others to get what he wants, or to prove a point. which could not be further from the truth.

i know most of this won’t really make sense to people who already know these things, but my words (and this post in general) are more directed to/are about those who use this theory to try and make loki seem like he’s a character who only started doing bad things, due to being brainwashed. that he’s a character who would never do anything wrong against his own will. meanwhile, he’s exhibited “bad” behaviors willingly since the first movie he was in.

he’s a character with manipulative tendencies, and deep rooted resentment and jealousy towards those put above him. he is insecure, and is willing to do anything to prove himself worthy.

also a lot of the things and points that the people who believe this theory as canon use as proof are things that have been debunked. a point that they often use is that marvel has confirmed that loki was influenced by the scepter. but the only thing they confirm is that it heightened his anger and negative feelings. a big issue is that people hear “influenced” and misunderstand, taking it as a confirmation that loki was mind controlled, and not that the scepter was just amplifying his negative emotions that were already there, and have been since thor 1.

(link to the whole page.)

nowhere does it say that he was brainwashed, or mind controlled. influenced? yes, that’s what the scepter does.

another thing is people talking about his eyes supposedly being the same blue as clint’s, and erik selvig’s when they were under the influence of the scepter. when in reality… their proof of this is just lighting, edited photos, or them mistaking loki’s eyes as being green when they’re actually blue. tom hiddleston has blue eyes, and loki in avengers has the same blue eyes that he did in thor 1, before he even met thanos. his eyes aren’t green, and have never been. (also if loki was MIND CONTROLLED by the scepter, his eyes would be EXTREMELY blue, considering his natural eye color is blue.)

examples:

he has the same beautiful big blue eyes eye color. not the insanely bright blue that clint, or erik selvig had when they were mind controlled by the scepter.

more examples:

guys, if loki was being controlled by the scepter… his eyes would be the same color as theirs since the cgi was purposely used to make their eyes very unrealistically blue so that everyone would know they were being controlled. these two characters both have blue eyes. these pictures show them before being mind controlled/brainwashed, versus afterwards. also… his eyes would be that same blue throughout the movie. which they’re not… clint’s eyes remained that bright blue until the mind controlling was undone by natasha.

it won’t let me add any more pictures so forgive me, but trust me… it’s not the same blue. loki’s eyes do look a little brighter here so maybe i understand the misconception a little bit, but that’s due many factors that can be explained. one being the makeup put on tom hiddleston in this scene to make his skin lighter as well to make him appear exhausted. another factor being the lighting!! as someone with blue eyes, i know that basically anything can make them appear a different shade. but that even goes for other eye colors. that’s just how it works. another thing to mention is that tom hiddleston is naturally blonde and has warmer skin than this. the contrast of the darker hair and the makeup (ESPECIALLY the makeup used to make his under-eye area look dark, which is only used like that in this scene btw) will make his eyes look really bright especially when he already has bright blue eyes. here’s the scene.

another example of his eye color being this post of mine right here. he literally has the same eyes

we can see that the avengers, specifically the hulk, were influenced by the scepter as well. but their eyes weren’t bright blue, because they weren’t being brainwashed by it and instead their negative emotions that were already there were being heightened. this caused cap and tony to argue even more, bruce banner to become angry and emotional about being the hulk, everyone else to become more hostile, etc… these were pre existing issues. loki’s resentment towards thor as well as his need for approval were pre existing.

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anyway i will probably update this in the future if there’s anything i left out/to correct mistakes.

moral of the story is, loki was canonically tortured, subjected, and manipulated by thanos. but even with that being said, he was not necessarily brainwashed and he was definitely not brainwashed by the scepter. there is no canon proof of that. the scepter only heightened his negative emotions that were already there.

if loki really was brainwashed, don’t you think he would’ve just retrieved the tesseract for thanos without wanting to rule over earth? it would’ve been that simple. but since that isn’t true and loki was consciously and intentionally doing these things, he wanted something in return. neither clint, nor erik selvig wanted anything in return. they did whatever loki needed them to, unconsciously.

people tend to take the proof of his torture, and mistake it as proof of him being brainwashed for some reason. loki is not an innocent character who only started exhibiting “bad” behaviors in avengers. just because he’s done bad things doesn’t mean that you cannot love him, sympathize with him, or see him as the true victim in the story. he is the god of mischief. he is manipulative, and has deep rooted issues that causes him to do bad things in order to prove himself. you don’t need to dumb down his character, and motives in order to like him.

sorry if none of this makes any sense. i’m really bad at explaining my own thoughts and putting them into words, and i’m sure this could’ve been worded better. i just made this to clear things up as well as give my own take on the theory. don’t take it too seriously but also feel more than welcome to correct me on anything, as well as add your own take or anything else onto this.

thank you for reading!!

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