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talesofadragon · 3 months

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𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐞 𝐅𝐨𝐫𝐬𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐓𝐫𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐬

Synopsis: Receiving wind that Hydra has successfully managed to awaken another wave of winter soldiers, Captain America appoints his two best avengers, Bucky Barnes and Y/N Y/L/N, for the job. But aside from Bucky’s trepidation at reliving his worst memories, there’s something else rooting him in his place–the fear of inflicting harm on the woman he loves the most. Between her encouraging words and his violent past, what will happen when Y/N is forced to encounter her boyfriend’s alter ego?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Enhanced!Reader

Warnings: Angst

𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐞 𝐅𝐨𝐫𝐬𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐓𝐫𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐬 Masterlist | 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟑

𝐘/𝐍 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐃. She had always known her survival chances were lower than most, given her status as an Avenger, and she wasn’t going to lie and say she never thought about what words would find themselves engraved on her tombstone.

But instead of dying in dignity because of an enemy bullet, Y/N immediately knew, at the moment the bullet froze amidst her translucent body, that she was going to greet death at Bucky’s hands.

She always prided herself on her quick wit. So, when the Hydra bastard fired, she knew there were only two options: live or die. She couldn’t escape the bullet—teleportation was not a power in her arsenal, no matter how much she wished it was, or else Steve would have thought twice before hauling her ass in the Quinjet and whisking her to Antarctica in no less than twenty hours.

So, with no means of escape, Y/N did the only reasonable thing. She summoned her incorporeal form. In her defense, it was a great plan. With no physical vessel, there was no way for the bullet to cause any damage, and she could stall enough for Bucky to incapacitate the Hydra agent.

…But, since Hydra was no ordinary intelligence organization, and with their eyes set on their finest creation, it was naive to think they would make it easy

The second the “bullet” penetrated Y/N’s incorporeal form, a strange sensation tilted the world on its axis. It happened briskly—in what could be described as a heartbeat or a flutter of an eyelash. Suddenly, Y/N let out a loud hiss. Her legs gave out, pushing her to the ground.

She noticed it in the way her body regained its physical state–her powers had seemingly seeped from her fingertips in a manner that made bile rise to her throat and a sharp scream escape her lips.

“Y/N!” Bucky called frantically, witnessing her shallow breaths. There was a small disk on her neck, an imprint left behind by the Hydra weapon. He raised his gun, expertly aiming it at the man standing a few feet behind Y/N. The agent was unfazed, already anticipating a retaliation. He leveled his own gun at Bucky’s chest and fired.

Bucky dodged it, poised to attack. As soon as he pressed the trigger, though, the bullet ricocheted against an invisible barrier. It haphazardly traveled across the small space, threatening to lodge itself in him. He finally deflected it with his metal arm. It was after that he noticed a metal disk a few feet away on the ground—the reason the bullet must;ve been repelled.

“I have long been waiting to meet you,” the Hydra agent noted. He paused his monologue, mouth agape and adorned with a callous smile. It pricked Bucky’s sanity, even more so when he uttered one more word, “Soldat.”

Y/N groaned in displeasure, the sound of her protests louder than her previous whimpers. The man paid her no heed, rolling his eyes and stepping over her as if she were nothing but a meager rat.

“Who the hell are you?” Bucky spat.

The agent smirked, opening his eyes wide in a show of feigned hospitality. “I am Pavel Kuznetsov, Research Director and Coordinator of the Hydra Winter Program. It’s an honor to be in your presence, Soldat.”

“S-stop calling him that!” Y/N ordered, attempting to stand up on shaky legs.

The agent, Pavel, looked more annoyed than bothered by her comment. He rotated his body only slightly around, enough to be able to grab her hair and force a kick under her stomach.

Y/N cried out in agony as her legs buckled beneath her, sending her crashing to the ground with little effort. Enraged at the sight of her suffering, Bucky's fists clenched. "Do not touch her!" he warned, anger taking over.

Bucky unsheathed one of his hidden knives, hurling it at the man. Just like before, the invisible barrier did not recede under the force of his attack. The blade bounded against the shield, landing on the ground.

Pavel smirked, eyes raking Bucky’s forlorn figure. “Cute.” The Sergeant tried not to shutter at the acid in his voice. “The Soldat has found himself a little fucktoy.”

The veins in Bucky’s neck protruded, waves of dark blue made prominently visible. The metal plates of his arms whirled as he fisted his hand, attacking the barrier with a growl. “Watch your tongue!”

“I wonder, do you watch yours when around her?” Pavel taunted. “Such a delectable little creature she is.”

“Watch it!”

“Oh, I am watching it,” Pavel enunciated, looking at Y/N’s writhing form.

Bucky swore his blood was boiling at a dangerous temperature with the way that man was describing Y/N. If it wasn't for the cackling sound of his earpiece, God only knew what he would've done next.

The voices were a jumbled mess, with static filling his ears. Bucky deduced then that the barrier must also be causing some kind of sonic interference.

“Two... strong… any word… Y/N?” Steve's voice rang through, sounding out of breath. Bucky didn't miss the low whine that emanated from Y/N after her name was mentioned.

She can hear them, Bucky figured, realizing that her earpiece was functional. But without manually activating the channel, the team wouldn’t be able to hear either him or Y/N.

“Busy… deadly beautiful… soldier. Literally,” Tony’s voice sounded. And with everyone fighting a soldier each, there was no telling if they would reach Bucky and Y/N in time.

Bucky slowly filled his lungs with air, preparing himself for what lay ahead. This was a trap, just as Y/N had told him. But he didn’t want Y/N to stick around long enough to find out whether that man was also enhanced, possibly the last soldier they were looking for.

"Release Y/N,” Bucky said, after carding his fingers through his hair. He angled his head to the side, ensuring Pavel wouldn't notice his earpiece fizzing to life. It didn’t look like he paid attention to the pause between Bucky’s words either. He took them at face value, unaware they were spoken slowly for any of the Avengers who could hear him to pick up in full.

"Is that what your pretty little pet is called?”

"She is not a pet, Kuznetsov.”

The man dared to grin, sending shivers down Bucky’s spine. “My, you’re right. Lynxes are no pets. They’re beasts."

Bucky snarled loudly, his temper rising at the insinuation. He stepped forward, ready to hurl his bodyweight against that barrier. But the moment his brain was commanding his feet into action, his earpiece buzzed again.

“Bucky?” Sam asked. “What’s… on? ...Y/N… okay?”

“The barrier,” Bucky snarled, hoping his team could pick up his voice. “Put. It. Down.”

“No.”

Bucky inhaled sharply with his electric irises concentrated on Y/N. She had one elbow on the floor as she tried to lift herself. Though out of breath, the grit of her teeth showed she was resisting the effects of the disk clinging to her body.

“James,” Y/N wined, almost to her feet. A shriek escaped her when Pavel snatched her hair, positioning her in front of him.

The sound ignited an unprecedented wrath in Bucky. “Fight me!” he hollered. Y/N’s eyes glistened with tears, and he swore he was going to decapitate that man, limb from limb. “Let her go. And fight me.”

“Oh, there will be fighting. But what’s the rush?”

The words didn’t want to register in Bucky’s head. He dismissed them, fisting his metal arm and swinging it at the invisible barrier. “Fight me now!”

Of course, this did nothing to break it. There wasn’t even a visible dent or a scratch. Bucky pulled back his arm, ready to hurl himself forward. But he stopped when he heard Y/N’s broken whimpers.

“S-soldat,” she cried out, the word dripping from her mouth with disdain. Bucky’s head whipped at the speed of light, a jarring jolt infiltrating his body. His eyes scanned her, checking for injuries Pavel might’ve caused in his momentary distraction.

“It’s okay,” he whispered. I know, was what he was trying to say. I know. And I’ll get you out.

But Y/N repeated the word, shaking her head when he tried to interrupt her. “Soldat. T-trap.”

“Y/N–”

“Ja-James.” She paused, allowing herself to take in a deep breath. Pavel’s fingers tugged at her hair, making her shriek her next words. “Soldat, Barnes!”

It stunned Bucky to hear his last name uttered so sharply. By Y/N, no less. A shadow of confusion crossed his features, his brows knitting together. Soldat. He got that part. He told her this much.

“Angel,” Bucky opened his mouth to affirm his understanding, but Y/N’s frustration increased.

Pavel didn’t like her fidgeting too much. He grabbed her chin, his fingernails digging into her skin. Bucky jolted, nothing but a hair separating his body from the barrier. His eyes roamed Y/N’s face, tunnel-focused on where Pavel’s fingers lay.

Y/N caught Bucky’s attention, eyes imploring him to understand. He tried to, but his senses were battling each other at the crippling sight in front of him. With his enhanced strength, Pavel could kill Y/N with a flick of his wrist.

That’s when Bucky’s brain kicked into function. This much pressure could have cracked her jaw. But it didn’t. It was the same tight grip Natasha had on her enemies. The same tight grip Sam had on him when they were training.

It was normal. Tight, but normal. Not enhanced. Not deadly.

“Soldat,” Bucky breathed. Pavel swiveled his head, flaunting a machiavellian smirk. But he wasn’t looking at Bucky. He was looking at his metal arm.

Once Bucky looked down, he realized then what Y/N had been saying all along. There was a disk on his metal arm. A device that would overpower him. A way to unleash the soldier.

“No!” he roared, kicking and punching the barrier. They can’t do it, a voice inside his head blared. The words don’t work. This device certainly couldn’t.

He hollered above the sound of Pavel’s laughter and Natasha’s segmented questions in his ears. He needed to get out. Needed to get Y/N out. And that was when it all sunk in. “Y/N!” he implored and shouted at once. Praying for the heavens not to test him this way. He couldn’t do it. This was the main reason he didn’t want her to wander this place without him. Afraid of her dying at the hands of a soldier... crippling beneath the acrimony of winter. He wouldn’t let her. He couldn't survive the desolateness and viciousness that would come without her.

But he didn’t have a choice.

Pavel disregarded his gun in favor of pulling a small rectangular device. His actions lingered, an unwelcome intermission that only made the tension rise.

"Y/N," Bucky pleaded, the desperation in his voice a stark juxtaposition to his fierce demeanor. "Run. Hide. Please."

Do anything, he silently asked. Anything to survive.

And then Pavel pushed the button.

It was worse than holding her breath when Steve had to stop a bomb from exploding back in Estonia. It was more catastrophic than Tony tripling the intensity of his electro beams against some alien creature in Northern Australia.

No, what was happening to Bucky was worse than anything Y/N had witnessed before, and it knocked whatever air lingered in her lungs out of her. She watched, mouth agape, as Bucky’s palms landed on the invisible barrier. His screams were thunderous as he floundered around in this invisible detention cell, nails desperately clawing at its edges to try to dig even a minuscule hole through it.

Bucky wailed, attempting to fight whatever maliciousness was invading his mind, but from the way his sobs ebbed and flowed, his resistance was long lost. Electricity crackled, sparks dancing from his fingertips to the tip of his ears. His jaw tightened, molars grinding in an attempt at defiance. They couldn’t do it. They shouldn’t be able to.

“Soldat,” Pavel proclaimed with a mirthful smile. He had known, even without Bucky lifting his gaze from the floor, that the Fist of Hydra was back. And it was confirmed with only three words from Bucky’s mouth.

“Я. Готов oтвечать. ”

Pavel rejoiced, his silent amazement tramping Y/N’s astonishment. She tried to reach out for her earpiece, desperately wanting to tell Steve what just happened and beg him to hurry. But Pavel caught her other arm and shoved her in Bucky’s direction. “Soldat,” he uttered, the word taunting Y/N with its venomous rhythm. “Your mission, your target, is her. Destroy her.”

And then all hell broke loose.

Bucky gave her no warning, no preamble, no nothing. He didn’t incline his head, nor did he bat an eyelash. The barrier disintegrated, and, all at once, he was in Y/N’s personal space, punching her in the ribs faster than she could anticipate.

She muffled her scream, hiding her pain under a veneer of control. Her ears buzzed when she landed on a desk, breaking it in half. Bruce was saying something over the comms, but with Bucky charging like a mad bull toward her, Y/N couldn’t focus on what the team was saying.

“James, it’s me!” It was futile–she knew that much. But with this transition stimulated by different means than the ones previously adopted, Y/N held onto the hope that she could perhaps get to him. “You know me!”

“You are my mission,” he asserted. His hand uncovered a gun he had kept somewhere in his suit. Had Y/N not ducked in time behind a wall, her head would have certainly exploded.

The bullet penetrated one of the translucent panels beside her, and she horrifically watched as the glass erupted like fireworks, sending a million particles in her direction. The wall couldn't obstruct the glass, forcing Y/N to roll on the ground and attempt to escape.

She hissed, shards lodging themselves in the skin of her palms, but she didn’t dwell on it with Bucky pelting her with a barrage of bullets.

Without her powers, it was increasingly hard to navigate the line of fire. Her breath was coming out in pants. Her knees were barely able to support her weight.

The only reason Bucky missed wasn’t because Y/N was running fast or her senses picked up on the danger. It was because she tried to use what little of her available surroundings she had as an advantage. She ducked, rolled, and hid behind whatever surface she could leverage, but she couldn’t keep doing that.

“I’m your best girl!” Y/N screamed before her foot got caught up in a metal rod. She crashed into a pile of green tubes, crying out as they singed her suit. Her skin ached under the jarring contrast between ice and heat. “I'm... I'm the one you always turn to, James. The one who knows you best and loves you most!"

“Pathetic,” the response came from Pavel. And if Bucky had hesitated, it didn't show.

A knife lodged itself in Y/N’s calf, causing her painful wails to bounce off every surface. Her words did nothing to appease Bucky’s brain or counter his mental spell. But she wouldn’t relent.

An idea surfaced in her mind as she looked down at the knife. Maybe, if she were any other person, she’d have used it as a weapon. But Y/N knew she had to break through the barricades of Bucky's mind first. Or else no one would make it out of this facility alive.

She snatched a couple of discarded vials, ones that had remained intact. And though the cold was biting at her skin, she charged ahead. Y/N thrust the chemicals in Bucky’s direction—keeping her aim steady enough to avoid hitting him yet precise enough to maintain some distance between them both.

“You’re not Hydra’s Asset anymore,” she reminded him. It hurt to run, but she needed to find refuge somewhere. “You’re not their experiment. That man is not your handler. I am not your mission!”

“Заткнись.”

“Извини. Нет!” Y/N countered. This time, Bucky was taken aback by her answer. So, she used this window of opportunity to hurl a chair at him before darting toward one of the doors on the left.

To Y/N's luck, the door gave out quickly under her weight, and the hinges remained pristine. Scurrying to lock the door, she used the adrenaline pumping in her veins to try and reinforce it. Truth be told, she didn’t know what she was doing or what she was using to keep Bucky away. But she needed to hold him off, even if it was just for a minute.

Ignoring the frost bites and the pieces of skin that were clearly falling off from that green solution, Y/N took a deep breath, curling her injured hand—frankly, they were both injured, but this one less than so—on the knife’s hilt. She took a deep breath. The sound barely registered above Bucky’s body crashing into the wooden door.

Blood poured out of her wound in torrents, leaving her lightheaded. Quickly, she searched for the disk occluding her powers. Her team was saying something, their voices fusing together in her ears. She shut off her earpiece, eyes still studying her body. The disk meshed into her suit, pushing her to debate cutting the fabric.

A flying drawer made the decision on her behalf. In less than ten seconds, Bucky was sure to get through her pitiful defenses. The cabinets she’d used as shields could only hold him for so long. Y/N raised the knife, ready to cut the fabric, when the disk hummed without prior notice. The next thing Y/N knew, electricity shot through her body, forcing the knife to fly out of her grasp.

“Son of a—” Her curse was cut as the door opened a fraction before closing again. With not much of a choice, Y/N’s eyes frantically studied the room for a hiding spot, thanking Clint for teaching her to use the vents as escape pods.

Within a few bated breaths, she was up in the air vents just as Bucky broke down the door. She could see it even from up there, the moroseness that governed his features. Knowing his enhanced senses would pick up on her footfalls, she settled quietly in the confined space.

Bucky scanned his surroundings, assessing the hidden crooks and gaps, astutely moving around the room in search of her. She sucked in a whimper, her entire body threatening to collapse from the fight’s toll. Luckily, Bucky seemed to have missed her discomfort.

When he strode to the other end of the room, Y/N took this as a chance to start moving. She did it as gently as she could, partially because she couldn’t place much pressure on her calf. Mainly because she had to make no sounds.

It was silent for a while—as opposed to the fray inside her soul. One part of her resented itself for leaving Bucky behind, while the other reasoned that she couldn’t help him without getting out of there and finding the team first.

But the silence soon slipped. Y/N heard a sharp sound, followed by her own shrieks of terror.

A bullet penetrated the vents. She stilled only for a second before her mind moved on autopilot. She reached for her suit, taking out any trinket she could find. She threw one of Tony’s infra scanners, shaped like a small ball, ahead, watching it roll across the vent.

Bucky caught the movement and fired. Y/N took the chance and fled the other way.

She thought it would work. There was no way he could hear her over the sound of the ringing bullets, and the ball was moving around enough to trick him that there was movement within the vents—just far away from her.

She didn’t know how it happened, but somehow, the vents collapsed beneath her weight. She felt sick, the world rotating around her thrice. A jarring yelp evaded her mouth when her body landed on the harsh cold floor.

Y/N's consciousness floated in the air, untethered and uncertain. She didn’t know what she was supposed to do. There was a cacophony of voices, bellows, and screams, loud enough to shake the whole of Antarctica. Were they her own?

Her hair was yanked back, her knees pressed into the unyielding ground and her legs twisted at an awkward angle. Her vision was marred with dirt, exhaustion, and tears. But within the hazy portrait before her, Y/N could see her team. They were all here, fighting more Hydra agents than she could count.

“Y/N!” a voice shouted as a foot pressed down on her injured leg, and a knife settled by her jugular vein.

It was then, in the blurriness of her hope and the clarity of her despair, that she knew there was no escaping the Winter Soldier.

I'm a huge sucker for hurt/comfort! This was supposed to be out a week ago, but I caught a nasty cold and bruised myself pretty badly during dance practice. I hope the angst was well-rounded since I really wanted to share it with you and not postpone it any longer. Hope you liked it, witchlings! 🩷

All-Works Taglist: @xxrougefangxx

Bucky Barnes Taglist: @ye0nvibezzn @justafangir1

Series Taglist: @msoldier @kandis-mom

: ̗̀➛ Read Chapter 4 -AFTERMATH - here!!

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky x y/n #bucky x female reader #bucky x you #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes imagine #winter soldier #winter soldier x reader #winter soldier x you #marvel fanfiction #avengers fanfiction #winter soldier!bucky #winter soldier relapse #winter soldier x y/n #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes angst

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bit-dodgy-innit · 2 years

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Group Effort

A/N: Hello and welcome to next installment of my 500 Follower Celebration...let’s get fucknasty! Also, just to be abundantly clear, this is very much pre-Nyla and Reader is engaged to the moon boys. Also Mr. Lockley’s little bit of Spanish will be translated at the bottom of the fic as per usual.

The prompt: You and Marc share your wildest fantasies with each other…turns out you both share the fantasy of you getting gangbanged by the three of them in separate bodies.

Requested by: @kotonei-molyneux & @strawberry1042-blog …great minds think alike 😈😈

Pairing: Marc x afab!reader, with a bit of Steven x afab!reader and Jake x afab!reader, because we can’t leave them out of the fun, can we?

Word Count: 2.3k Spice-o-meter: 🌶🌶🌶🌶 - Rated E, Minors DNI!

TW/CW: A LOT of dirty talk, handjob, vaginal fingering, talk of group sex/gangbang so mention of nipple play (hello it me), oral (f and m receiving), penetrative sex, anal sex, triple penetration, a little bit of sub!reader, creampie, cum-eating, orgasm denial, exhibition, masturbation, cumshot, talk of internalized slut-shaming, Marc being our dream supportive bf

You weren’t precisely sure how the topic came up, but it surfaced after you and Marc shared a long, steamy lovemaking session. The two of you were lying in bed utterly sated and exhausted, your torso draped over his chest while he played with your intertwined fingers. Much like a magpie, your eye was drawn to the glint of the three-stone diamond engagement ring that had recently made its home on your left hand.

“Hmm, tell me,” Marc hummed into your ear, “what’s your wildest fantasy?”

Despite having spent the better part of the afternoon with your face in Marc’s groin, you blushed. Not because you were shy about talking about sex or your needs, but because your wildest fantasy was dirty. Not to mention impossible and potentially offending to your fiancé.

“What’s yours?” you tried to deflect.

“I asked you first,” he countered. He tipped your chin up so your eyes met. “Whatever it is, you can tell me.”

Ugh, Marc’s molten chocolate eyes and the fact he’d fucked your brains out earlier prevented your normally quick-thinking brain from coming up with a believable backup answer. “I, um…uh.”

“Want me to go first?” Your fiancé had mercy on you, the last thing he wanted to do was pressure you. The only reason he’d brought it up in the first place was because Marc thought it could be a way to bring you two closer.

“Please,” you murmured from where you’d buried your face into Marc’s spectacular pecs.

“Okay,” he began as he stroked your hair, “it’s definitely a fantasy because the last time this happened I was technically dead.”

Out of everything Marc could’ve said, you certainly didn't expect him to say that. You angled your head so you could see him.

“But when I went to the Duat, Steven, Jake, and I were in separate bodies. And if there was ever a way for us to replicate that without the death part, I’d want us to all, uh…I’d want the three of us to fuck you. Drown you in pleasure.”

Your eyes widened, and Marc automatically assumed that he’d gone too far. Before he could backtrack however you said in an awed whisper, “That’s mine too.”

“Really?” Marc asked, his cock beginning to stir at the thought.

“Yeah. I didn’t say it at first because I wasn't sure how you’d feel about it,” you confessed, “I didn’t know if having the other boys involved would like, I don’t know, make you think I wanted you any less.”

“It’s the opposite really,” Marc told you, pulling you in for a kiss, “it means you accept all parts of me.”

You graced him with a beaming grin, your eyes lit from within. “I love you so much, baby.”

“Love you too,” he returned after kissing you again. Then his gaze darkened, “So…what would you want us to do?”

A pink hue stained your cheeks. “Well…um, you know how I love when you play with my tits.”

“Mmmm, I do,” Marc urged you on. “I’m pretty fond of them myself.”

He sneaked a glance down at the aforementioned breasts while you went on, “You are, but you know how Steven is absolutely bananas for them. So in my fantasy, uh, you’re actually eating me out while Jake and Steven are each sucking on one of my tits.”

You couldn’t quite believe you said it out loud. The idea had played a starring role in your solo-time fantasies, not that you had much time for those anymore now that you were effectively seeing three men who each possessed healthy libidos. Whenever one of the men suckled at your nipple it drove you absolutely wild, so you could hardly imagine how mind-blowingly good it would feel to have both peaks pleasured simultaneously, plus Marc’s talented tongue lapping between your legs.

Marc groaned. “Now that is a pretty sight.“ His dick quite liked the image too, hardening against his thigh for the third time that evening.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, I’d love to lick this little pussy while getting to watch them play with your titties,” Marc conferred, his hand tucking in between your thighs to part your folds. He smiled wickedly when he found that you were already wet again for him as his fingertips probed you. “What else?”

You gasped at the touch of Marc’s fingers spreading around your wetness. It made formulating your next thought incredibly difficult, though your fiancé’s hunger to hear more of your filthy fantasies put you at ease. “Uh-ummm, I’d want you all inside me, at the same time.”

“Shit” Marc swore. That was always his go-to spank bank material. You splayed out and utterly stuffed full of him and his alters, their cocks moving in and out you in a frenzy of desire. He was curious about one thing though, so he inquired, “Who would go where?”

Your breath hitched due Marc’s question plus the insertion of his digit inside of you. “Mmmm honey, I know where you’d want to be.”

It was time to level the playing field a bit, you decided. Your hand, previously clenched around the edge of the sheet while you watched Marc’s bulging bicep flex as he fingered you, slithered below the covers.

His hips jerked into your fist when you encircled your palm around his length, stiff and leaking once again. “Your mouth.”

“That’s right, then Jake in my ass, obviously,” you stroked him gently, teasing him with an intentionally light grasp.

“Obviously,” Marc parroted mindlessly, too consumed with pleasure to be jealous that Jake had gotten anal play in with you before he could.

“So I guess that would leave my pussy for Steven,” you concluded with a faux innocence. “You don’t think he’d mind, do you?”

Your fiancé’s eyes rolled back into his head, both from pleasure and from Steven pushing to the front to concur, “Blimey babe, you’re driving us mad…duh-don’t stop.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” you told him. You bit your lower lip as Steven pushed another thick finger into your sopping cunt.

Marc had to wrestle back control of the body, but he was happy to do so in order to hear more firsthand about this little scenario the two of you were concocting together. Also, your hand was on his dick.

“We’d fuck you so good baby,” he rasped. “Won’t be able to remember your name when we’re done with ya.”

You could see it so clearly in your mind, sandwiched between Jake and Steven’s strong chests as they moved their cocks inside of you in tandem while Marc stood over you to feed you his. Your pussy bore down on his fingers, your brain trying to conjure what it would feel like to be that full. Perhaps you could achieve the same effect with toys, yet it’d pale in comparison to having three solid, warm bodies caging you into their hold, making you take it since they knew you craved each and every one of their thick members.

Your grip tightened around Marc’s dick at the thought and your cunt bore down on his fingers.

“Unngh, I’d wanna watch our cum drip out of all your holes,” he grunted.

Oh fuck, you hadn’t even considered that, but your sex-addled imagination was quick to supply the mental picture for you: Marc’s cum dribbling from your mouth, while the other’s boys seed trickled out of your ass and pussy. Was your fiancé trying to kill you?

You keened, “That’d be so hot.” Not your most elegant addition to the conversation, but you were overwhelmed with deliciously dirty thoughts, two digits finger-fucking you, and jacking Marc’s fat erection. “I’d push it out for you so you three could taste it, and us together.”

“Yeah, mmm fuck yeah baby,” Marc’s began driving his hips through the tight channel of your fist, a telltale sign he was close to coming. Your hand moved down the base of his cock and squeezed the base firmly.

When your fiancé let out a strangled shout at his release being denied, you disclosed “There’s something more I’d want to try.”

“Fuck,” Marc cursed again, though you weren’t sure if it from the revelation you had more to say or that you’d started moving your hand again. “Tell me baby.”

You inhaled deeply to battle the part of your head that was told you that you were about to share too much. “Ummm, I…”

Marc’s unoccupied hand cradled your cheek, “It’s okay.”

His assurance allowed you to relax some and gave you the courage to continue. “I, uh…I also think it’d be really hot if you all took turns fucking my pussy.”

Somehow that idea seemed dirtier than the three of them using you at once. Though you definitely weren’t a prude, your sex life before Marc, Steven, and Jake had been pretty vanilla. Satisfying, but not exactly kinky. The thought of a gangbang was one of those kinks that always appealed to you in theory but never in reality, mostly because you couldn’t conceive letting yourself be so vulnerable in front of people who weren’t your partner.

However, if all the participants in the group sex were your partner, the men who you loved equally but individually and trusted, who each cherished and respected you…well then, yeah, you’d be game.

Your fiancé nearly choked on his own breath after you spoke. “Fuck,” he repeated. Marc was aware that he wasn’t exactly contributing anything new to the discourse, but you were short-circuiting his brain.

Jake took the opportunity to push to the front and encourage you on, “Ooooh, you’d like that wouldn't you, nena? Watching us while we watch each other pound that greedy pussy?”

“Uh huh,” you yelped as he moved his thumb to your clit. “I know you all watch sometimes when one of you is with me,” you explained, “wanna experience it for myself.”

The scene ignited a fire within you to think about it. All of them had such deep, expressive gazes and for three pairs of those dark eyes to be trained on you while they each punched little gasps and cries out of you with their dicks drove you completely wild.

“Well that seems only fair,” Jake agreed, infuriatingly casual as you continued fondling each other. “Pero, te diré un secreto, when we watch the other fuck, we’re usually jacking it ourselves.” The filthiness of the image caused you to cry out. “So would you let us stroke our cocks while we play with your cunt? Maybe one of us would need to spurt all over your tetas because we got too impatient and paint all this smooth skin with our cum instead.”

“Oh fuck, Jake, I’m gonna come,” you whimpered as your ecstasy rose.

The mention of your release made Marc reclaim the body once more. “Then come for us, baby. Want you to come thinking about all the ways we’d fuck you silly.”

To get you over the edge, Marc cupped your breast and flicked a nipple. You did exactly as he said, reaching your peak with a wail as the all-consuming bliss of your orgasm wracked your body. You tried to keep pace, rubbing Marc through it as much as you could while your body spasmed from the intensity of your climax.

“Yuh…your turn, honey,” you whispered, your body still floating down from the aftershocks. Your fiancé did as you said, soaking your hand in his spend with a guttural shout.

The two of you were breathless after your respective orgasms subsided. You reached for a tissue from the nightstand on autopilot to clean your hand. After all the dirty talk and shared filth, you had no idea what to say to Marc now that the haze of lust had cleared from your head.

He beat you to the punch. “We definitely need a shower now.”

“You still want to marry me, right?” you couldn’t stop the words from tumbling from your lips.

Obviously, there was still some internalized misogyny or slut-shaming, or both actually, that had clawed its way from the deep recesses of your psyche to your mouth. You couldn’t help but think now that Marc knew how dirty you could be that you weren’t “wife material” anymore.

“Wait, what?” he looked at you completely confused.

“Sorry,” one of your hands attempted to hide your embarrassed flush. “It’s just that was a bit full-on and–”

“Well yeah, but honey, I loved every second of it,” Marc guided your palm from your face. “If anything, what we just did makes me want to marry you more.”

“Sorry,” you echoed. You were being stupid and needy and–

“Baby, you don’t need to apologize,” he told you with earnest, open eyes. “Did any of that make you uncomfortable?”

“No, no!” you quickly dismissed his concern. “I’m being silly and old-fashioned.”

“I can’t believe someone so loving, accepting and sexy chose me to marry her,” he murmured. “I mean, that was hot as all shit, but I also really appreciate you trusting me to open up like that. It means a lot to me actually, since I’ve trusted you with so much about my past and stuff.”

“That makes me really happy,” you beamed at him.

Marc pushed himself up to sitting on the edge of the bed, and you followed. He was right, you both really needed to rinse off.

“Honestly, after that, I wonder if Khonshu would grant me a favor so we could make it a reality.”

Your fiancé’s words made you so hot you nearly started sweating, but you also recalled all of the Egyptian deity’s cruelty.

“You’re free of him, let’s keep it that way,” you suggested to Marc as the two of you entered the bathroom. Marc reached to turn on the shower, “Besides, between all of us, I’m sure we have plenty of other fantasies to bring to life. “

Marc flashed you a raunchy grin of approval, then drew you under the spray with him.

A/N: Takes myself to maximum-security horny jail* hope y’all enjoyed! More prompt fills to come!

Taglist: @twwcs, @rmoonstoner, @hot-mess-express1, @murdickdocked, @toracainz, @saahmi, @unspokenmoon, @winterbiipp, @avatarofseshat @ilikeoldermenhelp, @losers-club6, @harrys-tittie, @ninebluehearts, @lucianadraven32, @dawnsutopia, @strawberry1042-blog

Translations:

nena - babe

Pero, te diré un secreto - But, I’ll tell you a secret

tetas - tits

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goponylover · 3 months

Text

Jon Sims and Arthur Lester: On Sight

Scene: Jonathan Sims and Arthur Lester are sitting across from one another at a plain wooden table, having tea and pleasant conversation. Jon puts his cup down and leans forward a bit in his chair as he prepares to breach a new topic.

Jon: Arthur...if it's alright, may I ask you a...somewhat personal question?

Arthur: I suppose that depends on what it is.

John: He's looking down at his teacup pensively, as if hesitating.

Jon: ...What is it like? Not being able to see?

Silence. Arthur is taken aback.

Jon: ...Actually, forget I said anything. That was too personal. I don't know why I asked that. I-

Arthur: No, no! It's fine! Jonathan it's fine! I understand that My John and I have a very...unique relationship. It's only natural you'd be curious!

John: Nosy, you mean.

Arthur: (hisses) Be nice.

Jon: Sorry?

Arthur: Nothing. A-as for your question...it was scary at first. It's still scary sometimes, given how frequently we have to run or hide or fight for our very lives while one of us is, quite literally, stumbling around in the dark. John guides me, tells me where obstacles are, alerts me of threats and helps me to combat them. He'll describe my surroundings to me so that I can get a sort of...mental map of the place I'm in. Sometimes I'll ask him to describe the scenery we drive past or the clothes hanging in the shop windows, little things like that. And usually he's happy to oblige...when he's in a good mood at least.

John: Hey!

Arthur: Of course it's not exactly the same and it's often frustrating for both of us when we fail to communicate properly. Especially when we end up in tight spots because of it. But honestly...I don’t know how people like me would manage without a John of their own in their heads.

John: Don't sell yourself short. You've been without me before, and you managed just fine.

Jon: What's he saying?

Arthur: Hmm?

Jon: You tend to...pause at odd moments when he's saying something to you.

Arthur: Heh. You're quite observant, aren't you?

Jon: (uncomfortably) It comes with the territory.

Arthur: (bashfully) H-he was just...complimenting me. Saying I've been without him before and I managed which I suppose is true.

John: You suppose?! You dragged yourself through the freezing cold to a cabin, while blind and bleeding from the neck. Fuck off, you suppose.

Arthur: (Ducks his head and whispers) Shut up!

John: (teasingly): Now who can't take a compliment?

Arthur: (shakes his head) All of this is to say...I'm very lucky to have him.

Jon: I see. Well I'm glad you two have each other. I don't know what would become of me if it weren't for Martin.

Arthur: (Hums in agreement) ...If I may ask...what sparked your curiosity?

John: His eyes are widening and he looks...embarrassed? As if you've somehow seen something you weren't supposed to see...

Jon: (sputters a bit) I- w-well it's interesting isn't it? Like you said! Your...symbiosis.

Arthur: I don't disagree. But we've discussed the subject of My John several times and you've never really focused on the topic of my blindness before.

John: I think I like that. You calling me YOUR John~

Arthur: (Chuckles softly) You're incorrigible.

Jon: (latching on) W-whats he saying now?

Arthur: Wha? Nothing, its- nothing. Jonathan, your deflecting.

Jon: I am not.

Arthur: I'm simply wondering what made you want to know more about my blindness. (Suspicious) What are you so desperate to hide all of a sudden?

John: He's hesitating...he's sighing. His shoulders are sagging as if in reluctant defeat. He's scooting the chair a bit closer to the table and leaning in.

Jon: ...I've told you of my time working at the Magnus Institute.

Arthur: Yes. I remember. Where you and your colleagues sadly fell under the influence of the dark gods that seized you.

Jon: I...I discovered a way to separate myself and the others from the Eye.

Arthur: You did?!

Jon: Yes. But at great cost. To separate yourself from the Ceaseless Watcher...you must completely destroy your own eyes.

Arthur: Jesus...

John: Fuck.

Jon: ...I didn't...I didn't want to do it alone so I ran to tell Martin. Him first before any of the others. I...I said we could get out of there. Together. Long story short, he refused. ...I don’t know if it would've worked on me. I was at the point where I couldn't even cut off a finger without it healing the second I removed the knife but...I could've tried. I should have tried. If it had worked, if I hadn't been so selfish-

John: Selfish? The fuck?!

Jon: -so much pain and death could've been avoided! But a million things held me back. Part of me told myself that it was because I didn't want to just run off and leave Martin and the others alone in that place but...but what if I was just lying to myself? What if I was just being a coward?

John: ...He's slumped in his chair. His eyes are focused on the far wall, clouded with shame. He's tense...as if bracing himself for something?

Arthur takes a moment to gather himself, struggling to piece his racing thoughts together into something coherent.

Arthur: Jonathan...you're not a coward for not wanting to lose your sight!

Jon: But-!

Arthur: Listen to me. I love my John and I love what we have and I wouldn't trade it for anything in the world but...but I still miss my sight. I miss it everyday. I miss being able to walk down the street unassisted, I miss the simple joy of being able to look at painting o-or watch a sunset instead of having it described to me and picturing it in my head! I miss... I miss being able to see my own face in a mirror. Heh...you know, sometimes I wonder how distorted my memory of my own face will grow with time. I wonder...will it fade altogether, one day?

John: (determined) I won't let it.

John raises his hand to cup Arthur's face gently. Arthur leans into the touch briefly.

Arthur: (fondly) I know you won't, dear.

Arthur: What I'm trying to say is...our eyes are a gift, Jonathan. A gift that we so often take for granted. Not wanting to lose them does not make you selfish nor cowardly. It makes you...

Arthur & John simultaneously: Human.

John: He looks...surprised. And maybe a little grateful.

Jon: ...I...T-thank you, Arthur I...I don’t know what to say.

Arthur: You don’t have to say anything. I've been in your shoes, Mr. Sims. We are both men that have committed a great number of sins. But those sins are not who we are. Try to remember that.

John: He's smiling.

Jon: I will.

#Here! Take this and don't ask questions!#tma #the magnus archives #malevolent #malevolent podcast #jon sims #jonathan sims #the archivist #arthur lester #malevolent john doe #john malevolent #privateeyes #jonmartin #crossover #my stuff

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cyanogoth · 2 years

Text

A nonexistent human being. Or is he? (character analysis of Johan Liebert)

A few months ago I’ve read a book which was recommended by one of the Monster’s fans, - “The Divided Self” by Ronald David Laing. He suggested Laing’s work to everyone who’s confused about Johan’s mindset and motivations, just as I’m sure a lot of us were… It was a GREAT recommendation, so insightful that I wanted to share my thoughts and the interpretation I developed.

Any blockquote in this post is from “The Divided Self”, there will be too many to sign each of them, so just keep that in mind :)

It’s going to be a painfully long read, but hopefully a rewarding one too.

PART 1: DEFINITION OF ONTOLOGICAL INSECURITY, TRUE AND FALSE SELF

Firstly we need to get familiar with a few concepts from Laing’s work which will be important for understanding the rest of the essay. His book describes schizoids and schizophrenics, exploring the mechanisms behind their illness. But it is important to understand that he, although a psychiatrist, acknowledged mental illness primarily as an existential/philosophical problem rather than a purely medical one. He saw more value in understanding the patient's experience of the world rather than endlessly examining and manipulating their body.

The first term we will need is ontological insecurity. Let's compare how Laing describes someone who is confident in his own reality - and someone who is not.

The individual, then, may experience his own being as real, alive, whole; as differentiated from the rest of the world in ordinary circumstances so clearly that his identity and autonomy are never in question; as a continuum in time; as having an inner consistency, substantiality, genuineness, and worth; as spatially coextensive with the body; and, usually, as having begun in or around birth and liable to extinction with death. He thus has a firm core of ontological security.

<...>

The individual in the ordinary circumstances of living may feel more unreal than real; in a literal sense, more dead than alive; precariously differentiated from the rest of the world, so that his identity and autonomy are always in question. <… > He may feel more insubstantial than substantial, and unable to assume that the stuff he is made of is genuine, good, valuable. And he may feel his self as partially divorced from his body.

If a position of primary ontological security has been reached, the ordinary circumstances of life do not afford a perpetual threat to one's own existence. If such a basis for living has not been reached, the ordinary circumstances of everyday life constitute a continual and deadly threat.

For an individual who’s unsure of his own existence, life becomes a constant struggle to preserve his self. All efforts are made to avoid engulfment, implosion, petrification. Fear of being absorbed is essentially fear of being understood, caught up, seen, loved, "grasped".

To be understood correctly is to be engulfed, to be enclosed, swallowed up, drowned, eaten up, smothered, stifled in or by another person's supposed all-embracing comprehension. It is lonely and painful to be always misunderstood, but there is at least from this point of view a measure of safety in isolation.

The way to deal with this fear is to take one’s true self out of the real world, completely out of reach of other people. A true self withdraws into the depths of the inner world, its connection with an individual’s body is interrupted. That which interacts with the "outside" world and controls actions, movements, words, facial expressions is the false self. A carefully falsified image designed to deflect the gaze of others.

…[he] never allows himself to 'be himself in the presence of anyone else. He avoids social anxiety by never really being with others. He never quite says what he means or means what he says. The part he plays is always not quite himself. He takes care to laugh when he thinks a joke is not funny, and look bored when he is amused. <…> No one, therefore, really knows him, or understands him. He can be himself in safety only in isolation, albeit with a sense of emptiness and unreality. With others, he plays an elaborate game of pretense and equivocation. His social self is felt to be false and futile. - Laing describing his patient

However, another fear, of petrification, or objectification, clashes with the previous one. Fear of being absorbed makes one flee from the gaze of others, but by hiding from it, an individual ceases to be perceived by anyone, which once again puts their substantiality into question. An individual is very much afraid of being perceived by others as an object, as something inanimate, as a machine, as an “it” without subjectivity. It’s as if any potential observer is Medusa, who can instantly turn an individual to stone with a mere gaze. This fear pushes a person to "existential suicide" - he pretends to be "dead", giving up his own autonomy before someone else can deaden him and treat him as an inanimate object. Also, as a way of protecting himself, an individual might turn everyone around him into stone too - because a phantom, hallucination, or an object couldn’t harm him, only real human beings are capable of such.

Fear of implosion is the same as fear of absorbing the real experience of life. An individual is empty, he is a vacuum - but this vacuum he begins to think of as himself. Any substantial relationship with the world and people threatens to "tear" him, so he avoids it, too.

Now let’s clarify what is false self, how it relates to the true one and the world.

If the individual delegates all transactions between himself and the other to a system within his being which is not 'him', then the world is experienced as unreal, and all that belongs to this system is felt to be false, futile, and meaningless.

Here’s an illustration from “The Divided Self” to better visualize what is meant here.

The reality of the world and of the self are mutually potentiated by the direct relationship between self and other. In Figure 2, there is a vicious circle.

the person who does not act in reality and only acts in phantasy becomes himself unreal.

The true self resides in an imaginary, devoid world of phantoms. It becomes unembodied, not represented in the real world. The real world, in return, loses its vitality in the eyes of a schizoid, viewed now as filled with objects.

The false self is a mask, a performance, an imaginary identity with little or nothing to do with the true self of the individual. Laing describes cases in which the false self starts to emerge in childhood and such children are described by their parents as remarkably obedient, compliant, undemanding. They conform perfectly to the expectations of the family and the environment. They begin to mockingly imitate what is desired of them. This is not necessarily an absurdly "good" image; it can also be absurdly evil, if that is what the world wishes the individual to be.

The point of having a false self is to not let any part of the true one slip to the real world, where an individual has no power over what will be done to it. To give something about him away is to rely on others mercy, and it’s a risk a schizoid can't afford.

in reality, in 'the objective element', nothing of 'him' shall exist, and no footprints or fingerprints of the 'self shall have been left.

Now to the interesting part - how all of that correlates to Johan.

PART 2: ROOTS OF JOHAN’S ONTOLOGICAL INSECURITY

Firstly, of course, dressing up as a sister. He probably could sense already that it’s done for a reason, not for the fun of it. The family led “a quiet life”, which is probably difficult to do with two kids. So, my suggestion: the twins grew up with the feeling that they have to hide from some sort of danger and avoid attention. But, Anna didn’t have to hide her real appearance, unlike Johan, for whom pretending to be someone else became an important part of remaining safe.

Did he conceal as someone else, or was he only an imposter for the real human that for sure is present in the world?

Because everyone, besides mother and sister, only knew the sister, the girl, the daughter. She was definitely real. Was he really ever there?

Even the mother couldn’t tell them apart. He became an illusory twin.

The moment their mother hesitated could only solidify Johan’s intrusive thoughts. She had someone in mind, could it be that she hesitated because at that exact moment couldn’t tell where the kid she’d given up?

Did he only stand a chance to live, physically and existentially, only if he concealed as someone else? Because if people could see him for what he truly was, he would not be saved.

My guess is that Johan's perception of himself was so distorted that he no longer thought of himself as the real thing; that the true self worth protecting wasn’t inside of him, it was his sister, and he was fake in his entirety. He was a mere pretender who had to ward off danger from the true self. Johan's saying "I am you, and you are me" and referring to Anna as "my other self" indirectly confirms my assumption - he began to see himself and his sister as an integrated system, where he is nothing more than a facade and his sister is the living, real, substantial, human one.

The mother's hesitance in choosing between the two children added fuel to Johan's already flimsy sense of his own substantiality. What if she was not choosing between the twins, but simply could not at that moment figure out which one was which? Keeping a particular child in mind, she just couldn't tell who was really the kid she was thinking of and who was posing as such? Where is the real child and where is the false one?

The feeling of insecurity, the loneliness, the pain of their mother's abandonment, the sympathy for this sister, and the enormous guilt that the real one of them two had fallen into clutches of monsters. The twins' whole life consisted of constant attempts of intruders to destroy their lives and identities.

The days after Anna’s return prior to being found on Czech-German border mark Johan’s existential death.

Something in him collapsed in that interval of time. When his mother was choosing between them, he was still a normal child (or, at least, nothing described in manga showed us his abnormality) - afraid of being abandoned by his mother, of being handed over to be torn apart by sinister strangers whose intentions were unknown, but from whom he’d been running for as long as he could remember. All these feelings died in him. When and how exactly, we don't know, but a completely different Johan crosses the Czech-German border - detached, horrifyingly tranquil, indifferent to death. In a sense, he no longer has anything to fear, the short chain of events has been so devastating that he unknowingly committed existential suicide. Even if it’s death that’s awaiting them, no one will be able to put their hands on them, no one will be able to twist their souls and minds.

Laing’s patients often described their inner world as a wasteland, devoid of any sign of life. There are quotes from his book in which Laing talks about his patient and cites his words:

The self becomes desiccated and dead. In his dream world James experienced himself as even more alone in a desolate world than in his waking existence, for example:

“.. . I was standing in the middle of a barren landscape. It was absolutely flat. There was no life in sight. The grass was hardly growing. My feet were stuck in mud… ”

“. .. . I was in a lonely place of rocks and sand. I had fled there from something; now I was trying to get back to somewhere but didn't know which way to go… “

Reminds us of something, doesn’t it?

And it’s a precise reflection of Johan's world, the real Johan, where his self ended up imprisoned. However, he was a little luckier than the other schizoids - there was room for one more person in his world.

Mentally, Johan never made it out of that wasteland, only his body was saved. He calls this landscape a scenery of the Doomsday, not only because his body was close to death in that very space, but because it so strongly resembled Johan's inner landscape. It was the last place his soul has seen.

PART 3: KINDERHEIM 511 AND THE LIEBERTS

One’s true self, residing in a world of phantoms, ceases to engage with the real world through the individual's body. What is this body occupied with meanwhile?

Instead of being the core of his true self, the body is felt as the core of a false self, which a detached, disembodied, 'inner', 'true' self looks on at with tenderness, amusement, or hatred as the case may be. <…> The unembodied self, as onlooker at all the body does, engages in nothing directly.

This offers an answer as to why Kinderheim didn’t have the same destructive impact on Johan as it had on other children. His true self was already out of reach, it couldn’t be obtained no matter what they did to him externally.

They could get nothing from him. "They could only beat me up but they could not do me any real harm." That is, any damage to his body could not really hurt him.

In a sad way, the experiments on Johan's psyche were not successful, for he himself, quite unknowingly, subjected himself to all the horrors to which the Kinderheim warders were about to subject him.

You cannot kill what is dead, drain what’s empty, objectify what’s inanimate. That's why they didn't make it.

But Johan, of course, is the result they strived for but couldn’t achieve: a human so terrified and defenseless that is pushed to abandon his sensitivity in order to survive.

Thus, to forgo one's autonomy becomes the means of secretly safeguarding it; to play possum, to feign death, becomes a means of preserving one's aliveness. To turn oneself into a stone becomes a way of not being turned into a stone by someone else.

It seems to me that Johan was ready to settle down and stop running after escaping Kinderheim 511. But he left the orphanage with a critically dangerous revelation - sometimes it’s either you, or everyone else; his actions clearly show that he won’t hesitate to obliterate everything and everyone if it ensures safety. I just don’t think he expected to find himself in a similar position so soon, when he was adopted by Lieberts.

The thing about him is that he played along, he became what the world wanted him to become, yet it wasn’t enough to finally be left alone. The man they ran away from showed up at their doorstep and Johan lost his temper. Nothing helped the twins to escape monsters - living under different names, with different caregivers, in different places, together, separated- NOTHING was ever enough.

Maybe it was around the time his plan to be the last one standing was formed. Wiping out every sparkle of life from the world was the last attempt to gain safety.

Johan doesn’t care much about dying because his existential death has already happened, he already feels a lot more dead and frozen than alive. He already convinced himself that there’s nothing true about him, and out of two of them his sister is the true self. It doesn’t matter if he dies, he was never there from the start. But even after the gunshot he hopes to live through his sister.

Everything that comes after that wretched rainy night is an attempt to secure himself and his sister from the world that was on their tail for as long as they lived. He is ready to be separated from her and let her live under a different name if that’s how the monster finally loses track of her; he’s ready to enter the underworld, to take control of the German economy, to kill people.

It seems to me, because of the confinement of his true self in the realm of insubstantiality, he became unable to perceive people from the real world as alive and autonomous, that’s the sad reason why he could kill so easily. What he saw around were ghosts, objects that were mimicking human beings, not actual humans.

But there were exceptions.

Only Anna and Tenma are shown together with Johan in the wasteland of his inner world, where his true self dwells - them being there with him is a way of telling us, readers, that only these two truly know Johan. And therefore, only they can be spared.

I just want to emphasize: for Johan, “destroying the world” and “be the last one standing” wasn’t something he did for fun, or just because he could. It’s the last endeavor of a tortured child convinced in hostility of all living things to find peace.

PART 4: THE TALE OF THE NAMELESS MONSTER

The self is, however, charged with hatred in its envy of the rich, vivid, abundant life which is always elsewhere; always there, never here. The self, as we said, is empty and dry. One might call it an oral self in so far as it is empty and longs to be and dreads being filled up. But its orality is such that it can never be satiated by any amount of drinking, feeding, eating, chewing, swallowing. It is unable to incorporate anything. It remains a bottomless pit; a gaping maw that can never be filled up.

In the tale of the nameless monster, Johan can be both the monster and the boy who has been possessed by a foreign entity. That depends on how you interpret it.

This tale could be an allegory for what is happening to the twins, which are represented as nameless monsters. Johan could not remain himself, all the time hiding under different "faces'', changing names and identities. However, he couldn’t stay in any of them for long. His nature was bursting out, destroying these masks and whatever and whoever was around in the process. Nina on the other hand, even knowing her past, accepted the truth. Accepted her mother's choice and hardships she had to endure. She no longer tries to appear to be someone else, having chosen to move on with her life.

A second interpretation: Johan-the-Prince and our Johan are both weakened boys on a brink of death. For each of them, letting the Monster in, something scary, unnatural to humans, was a way to survive. So our Johan suppressed his sensitivity and susceptibility by pretending to be a not-quite-human, until traces and even references to his humanity have all but disappeared.

I don't think the fairytale manipulated Johan as a child, messing up his consciousness. What’s truly sinister about this picture book is that it foretold his fate.

As an adult, he picks up this book and sees himself in both the monster, who could not bear the present self and took on another's form, and the boy, who in an attempt to survive has ceased to be human, has destroyed everything around him. All that remains is solitude.

Imageries of the prince and the monster merge into one, and in one thing they are similar - in a fear of losing their lives, they lied primarily to themselves, and that lie destroyed the being of each of them. Neither monster nor prince really saved what they were protecting so desperately.

In addition, the book itself was an object from Johan's distant childhood, now almost forgotten, and served also as a reminder of the times when he was an ordinary, normal child.

Johan was wearing masks all the time, but the greatest of all his deceptions was not to live under the names “Johan Liebert”, “Franz Heinau”, “Erich Springer”, or any other for that matter. The most atrocious lie was to wear a mask of the nameless monster, even convincing himrself that this is who he is, that the emptiness and void is all there is to him. Wearing the guise of the nameless monster for years he had almost lost every memory of being human, and the book in his hands was a painful, violent reminder of his cowardly self-deception, his abandoned humanity, his forgotten self.

PART 5: I AM NOT YOU, AND YOU ARE NOT ME

From the moment the book falls into his hands, Johan probably realizes that his worldview is very much distorted. One of his fundamental beliefs about himself has been undermined, so debunking the rest of his illusions becomes a priority.

He remembers orchestrating the massacre at Kinderheim, but his belief that he was always capable of such things is shaken. He suspects that in his lost memories he will find the answer to the question he didn’t even think of asking. If he wasn’t born a monster, how did he become one?

We are not allowed to listen to the entire contents of the tape from Kinderheim 511. Only his attachment to Anna becomes apparent from it; but maybe he proceeds to talk about the Red Rose Mansion next. During interrogation he could recall his sister's words, which he heard again and again after her return. Her story was told in the first person POV: “I saw <....> I heard <…> I was <...> I ran <...>”. On recording he could repeat verbatim the words of his sister, and then, as an adult listening to it, misunderstand the meaning of those words. After all, he heard himself saying “I was taken <...>, I saw people die <...> , I ran away…” And only on the basis of this would he latch on to the story about the Red Rose Mansion as an explanation for what he had become.

Johan then decides to destroy the place. Although he clearly doesn’t recognize it, it doesn’t ring the bell yet.

Johan at that moment still considers himself a single set of personalities with his sister, and believes that in his mother's eyes they looked the same.

I can only assume that he told Čapek that Nina would kill him because he mistakenly thought that Nina held the same opinion about their connection as he did. If he's willing to kill for her, she'll do the same. Of course, he was wrong: he saw himself as an extension, a shadow of his sister, taking her joy and pain as his own; Nina, as much as she loved her brother, did not see herself and him as one, and clearly drew boundaries between her being and Johan's.

The capacity to experience oneself as autonomous means that one has really come to realize that one is a separate person from everyone else. No matter how deeply I am committed in joy or suffering to someone else, he is not me, and I am not him.

The assumption of being taken away by Bonaparta and being cast aside by his mother was one of the last crutches guarding him from the horrifying truth - he was the one who turned himself into a monster.

He cries when he hears Nina's story. Realizing that they’re not one, and she has never perceived Johan in this way. She is not his true self, and he is not his sister's false self. He sees more and more clearly the outlines of the true self within him, and he does not like the picture emerging before him at all.

All the “saving” he was doing turned out to be a sham that didn’t bring any of the twins the expected result. He experienced the guilt of denying himself existence and grew so enraged that he decided to kill himself. He now saw his true self - destructive, without a good reason. And realized it had to be eradicated, along with the man, the Monster, who made him that way - Franz Bonaparta.

PART 6: RUHENHEIM

The final stage of Johan's collapse, the massacre at Ruhenheim.

When he gets to Bonaparta's old house and finds numerous sketches of him and his sister as children he understands that Bonaparta was not “a monster outside of him”.

He refers to him as such when meeting Čapek, implying that Franz is to blame for him becoming a murderer. Upon seeing these sketches he recognized that Bonaparta's intentions had changed greatly over the years, and both Anna and himself were able to escape their fate because of his suddenly awakened sympathy. Not that this excuses Bonaparta, he was the one who designed the experiment after all. But these sketches were a confirmation of his kind intentions towards the twins, whatever they may have been at the outset.

It turns out that when Bonaparta came to visit the Lieberts, he was no longer a threat to Johan and Anna. Johan now knew that the night he shot the Lieberts had indeed stumbled and made a fatal mistake which tore him apart from Anna and plunged him deeper into the abyss of despair.

The event that finally convinced him of the animosity of the world and the lack of a safe corner anywhere in it was a figment of his mind which was led by fear.

This discovery was the final straw for Johan. Any image he had of himself collapsed for good.

The ending of "Monster" is Johan's realization of the fact that he undoubtedly Is. He exists, he is real, and he is him. And he was among the people who denied him the right to live; he was incapable of standing up for himself and recognizing his right to life, as his sister managed to do. He was so eager to erase any traces of himself from the world that didn’t notice the huge trail of blood dragging behind him, that was solid evidence of his existence, the only thing he had left.

He didn’t need to do horrible things that only left him and Nina traumatised. That left him all alone, miserable, separated from her.

He tried so hard to evade the evil people that he killed his Self before anyone had a chance to lay a hand on it.

When he set out to be nothing, his guilt was not only that he had no right to do all the things that an ordinary person can do, but that he had not the courage to do these things over and against and despite his conscience which sought to tell him that everything he did or could do in this life among other people was wrong. His guilt was in endorsing by his own decision this feeling that he had no right to life, and in denying himself access to the possibilities of this life.

After everything he learned about his past, Johan can’t forgive himself. For throwing himself into oblivion, for locking himself in the darkness. For making himself a monster that he was not born to be, that he had a chance not to become.

He was just as capable and deserving of normal life and real, deep connection with others as any other human being. He just convinced himself that he wasn’t one, and nobody dared to contradict him.

There is a desire in him to preserve not only himself from being consumed, but also those he cares about from himself. He thinks of his love as disastrous - because of it, Anna lost her brother and adoptive parents. Tenma, who saved him, was forced to be on the run for several years after becoming a murder suspect.

If there is anything the schizoid individual is likely to believe in, it is his own destructiveness. He is unable to believe that he can fill his own emptiness without reducing what is there to nothing. He regards his own love and that of others as being as destructive as hatred. To be loved threatens his self; but his love is equally dangerous to anyone else. His isolation is not entirely for his own self's sake. It is also out of concern for others. <…>

…what the schizoid individual feels daily. He says, 'It would not be fair to anyone I might love, to love him.' <…> He descends into a vortex of non-being in order to avoid being, but also to preserve being from himself.

He wishes to die now more than ever - a real death, this time. Not just existential, but total. The true end, as he called it.

Appearing in front of Bonaparta and Tenma, he doesn't aim at Franz, because he no longer blames Bonaparta for what he has become.

Johan said the only thing everyone is equal in is death, and what was behind his words: he says to Tenma that not everyone is worthy of saving, of being loved and forgiven, and Tenma should've finally realized this after meeting him and really knowing him. Because he's a monster, and being cheerful, having hope and light in their life is something that others can have, but he can’t; he's completely out of this human world and the only thing he has in common with everyone else is that they are mortal and so is he.

But even in his death he is mistaken. Once again believing he has no right to exist, he hopes to laugh at the world one last time, and die at the hands of the man who once saved him. After all, he certainly wouldn't have done it, knowing what Johan would grow up to be.

Isn’t that right, Dr. Tenma?…

Nina forgave him and the man who saved his life long time ago doesn’t regret his choice anymore and commits to it. The only people dear to him have recognized his right to live, whatever he may be.

Alas, how this affected him, we don’t know, and all we’re left with is speculation.

As a sentimental person, I want to believe that it meant something to Johan.

But what I really don't doubt is that Johan by the end is a completely different character to the one he used to be. Broken, disarmed, miserable. But it’s finally truly him.

"I think I must have figured out how the show ended. The Magnificent Steiner, he probably, became human again."

PART 7: THE FINAL ESCAPE

A mother plays a huge role in the development of her children's ontological insecurity - sometimes by being outright dismissive, sometimes by simply enjoying the child's undemanding and calm nature.

Here's what you can read about the mother’s impact in “The Divided Self”, those are Laing's reflections and descriptions of several of his patients.

... we suggest that a necessary component in the development of the self is the experience of oneself as a person under the loving eye of the mother.

His own feeling about his birth was that neither his father nor his mother had wanted him and, indeed, that they had never forgiven him for being born. <…> He was treated as though he wasn't there.' For his part, not only did he feel awkward and obvious, he felt guilty simply at 'being in the world in the first place'. His mother had, it seems, eyes only for herself. She was blind to him. He was not seen.

She had a great deal to say about her mother. She was smothering her, she would not let her live, and she had never wanted her.

Johan’s mother's choice was the first one in the long list of his miseries, it also triggered his ontological insecurity. And how could it not arise when the mother herself abandoned one of her children?

However, Johan was unaware that his mother had thought up names for the two of them, even before he and Nina were born. It turns out that the arrival of the second child was not an unpleasant surprise to her, she was looking forward to having them both.

She had always acknowledged the existence of both her children, and in her eyes they certainly weren’t a one big entity divided by chance into two bodies, one of which was never meant to be there.

But Johan looks truly disturbed after listening to Tenma. And this new revelation could also be another beginning to despair.

There is a door that must not be opened. What lays behind it: a paradise, or another monster?

Tenma, by telling him that the mother had given names to both of them, might have brought Johan down to a new hell. Where the mother recognised the reality of both her children and yet seriously chose which of them to keep.

This sort of thing doesn’t happen in real life, but since it’s fiction we’re talking about, I think we should pay attention to the fact that Johan wakes up only after hearing Tenma’s words. There is a symbolic meaning of him being stuck between life and death for so long.

It’s like he was resisting to be alive again, refusing to stay awake, choosing to be in a coma rather than walk this Earth again. But yet he didn’t die - a part of Johan was holding onto life despite all the horrors it brought to him.

In his last waking moments, he was miserable after discovering all the truth about himself. He really wanted to die, he thought it was the only thing he was deserving of; but Tenma didn’t shot him, his sister forgave him - and it wasn’t the outcome he expected at all. It started an inner conflict he didn’t have the time to resolve.

Johan as well could see the memory of mother’s choice in a different light. By opening up to Tenma he admitted it as a serious enough cause for him to abandon his humanity, as he really was living in a world full of threats. Hiding and pretending came natural to a child that didn’t know any better. And his mother, however hurtful her choice was and how wrong was the very fact of it, loved both of her children, Johan knows that for sure now. Maybe, he could finally forgive himself for becoming a monster. There was no one left to blame for the way he had turned out, no one to take revenge on - even himself.

(I know it can be confusing, so I’ll clarify, just in case - by “forgiving himself” i don't mean he simply dismissed the damage he did to others. He could only forgive the one he, with his own hands, inflicted upon himself, finally realizing, he had no other choice in his circumstances.)

He had a chance to accept that he had the right to exist all along, from the very beginning.

Finally, I want to get into the last excerpt from Laing's book. These are his patient's words from their conversation.

I could only be good if you saw it in me. It was only when I looked at myself through your eyes that I could see anything good. Otherwise, I only saw myself as a starving, annoying brat whom everyone hated and I hated myself for being that way. I wanted to tear out my stomach for being so hungry.

<…> Everyone should be able to look back in their memory and be sure he had a mother who loved him, all of him; even his piss and shit. He should be sure his mother loved him just for being himself; not for what he could do. Otherwise he feels he has no right to exist. He feels he should never have been born. No matter what happens to this person in life, no matter how much he gets hurt, he can always look back to this and feel that he is lovable. He can love himself and he cannot be broken. If he can't fall back on this, he can be broken. You can only be broken if you're already in pieces. As long as my baby-self has never been loved then I was in pieces. By loving me as a baby, you made me whole.

<…> It was terribly hard for me to stop being a schizophrenic. I knew I didn't want to be a Smith (patient’s family name), because then I was nothing but old Professor Smith's granddaughter. I couldn't be sure that I could feel as though I were your child, and I wasn't sure of myself. The only thing I was sure of was being a 'catatonic, paranoid and schizophrenic'. I had seen that written on my chart. That at least had substance and gave me an identity and personality. [What led you to change?] When I was sure that you would let me feel like your child and that you would care for me lovingly. If you could like the real me, then I could too. I could allow myself just to be me and didn't need a title.

I walked back to see the hospital recently, and for a moment I could lose myself in the feeling of the past. In there I could be left alone. The world was going by outside, but I had a whole world inside me. Nobody could get at it and disturb it. For a moment I felt a tremendous longing to be back. It has been so safe and quiet. But then I realized that I can have love and fun in the real world and I started to hate the hospital. I hated the four walls and the feeling of being locked in. I hated the memory of never being really satisfied by my fantasies.

The above passage resembles Johan in many ways: the hunger he felt for real life, the doubt of being loved by mother, the bond which he developed with Tenma…. The last has to be special for Johan: the doctor didn’t simply let him off the hook in the end, he actively chose to save his life.

And just as Laing's patient laments how difficult it was for her to give up the label of "crazy, schizophrenic” because it was the only description she felt could be applied to her, Johan couldn’t part with the mask of the nameless monster for the longest time. It was, after all, the only constant in his life. And now he knows that "nameless" part isn’t really true. Or maybe it doesn't matter anymore. He is just him.

It’s up for a debate whether Johan chose life or death in the end. There’s evidence for both and this ambiguity is sure intentional on the author’s part.

I just want to believe it was a newfound hope that got Johan out of the hospital bed.

#johan liebert #monster anime #naoki urasawa's monster #anime analysis #monster anime analysis #nina fortner #kenzo tenma #naoki urusawa #monster meta

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writeroutoftime · 4 months

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Hi! I saw Drabble requests are open if I’m wrong just ignore me. I looked at the prompt list. Could you do either #5 or #19 with Carmen? They seem to fit him well. Love your writing by the way!

a/n: hi there, thank you so much for sending this in! and, also, thank you for your kind words, it really means a lot! for this one, I decided to go with #19, cause it just seems so sweet with him! enjoy! 💗

(takes place when it's still the beef - post first date fluff | also, want to request a drabble? send it in!)

oOoOo

The bell above the old door chimed out to the staff as you walked into shop. No one at The Beef was shocked to see you, as it had become part of your routine to stop by every Thursday afternoon. However, this particular afternoon felt monumental as you pushed yourself pass the threshold.

Richie stood behind the counter and perked up when he saw you walk towards him. "Well, well, well. Lookie who we have here." he greeted with arms crossed over his chest as a shit-eating grin overtook his features.

"Hello, Richard." you greeted, rolling your eyes good naturedly.

"Yo, cousin," Richie shouted over his shoulder. "you-know-who is here. And it's not fucking Voldemort."

"You a Potterhead now?" you teased, leaning against the counter.

"Shut up, Eva's going through a phase. Now how was your date?" Richie started explaining before deflecting.

Luckily, he was saved by Carmy walking up, wiping his hands on the towel that hung by his hip. "What are you going on about, cousin?" he asked before spotting you, and quickly running his hands through his hair. Though, that only served to muss his curls up further. "Oh, uh, hi. Didn't expect to see you."

"Even though I come in every Thursday?" you teased, biting your lip to stop your grin from spreading further.

"Right, sorry, I knew that." he said, looking down sheepishly. "Uh, you want your usual?"

"That'd be great." you nodded, watching as Carmy threw the order over his shoulder. Your eyes also caught onto to the subtle shake of Carmy's hand. Reaching out, you squeezed his rough hand in yours and smiled. "Hey, I just want to say again, I really had a great time last night."

Carmen allowed himself a moment to focus on the way your hand fit in his. He appreciated the weight it provided, grounding him in that moment. "Yeah, no, um, I-I did too." he stumbled, eyes flicking up to meet yours. "I was wondering, you know if, uh," he began but stopped himself as he saw your smile.

It sent a jolt through him that knocked the wind out of him and sent his thoughts spiraling. He wasn't sure what he had done to get you to give him the time of day, let alone enjoy a night out with him, but he didn't want to lose a chance to do it again.

"Q-quit smiling at me." he said through a soft laugh. "I can't stop messing up my sentences when you look at me like that."

Feeling emboldened by his confession you pressed a bit further. "You like my smile?"

That seemed to throw him for a loop. "Y-yeah, of course. I like all of you. And that's why I was wondering if you maybe, I don't know, wanted to go out again?" he asked, one hand finding its way into his hair again.

"I'd love to, Carmy." you beamed. "I'll text you, okay?" you confirmed with a kiss to his cheek, grabbing the to-go bag Richie just placed down on the counter. "Thanks, Richie. See you later, Carm." you offered, waving once more before heading back to work.

You couldn't help the smirk on your lips as you overheard Richie razzing Carmy for the interaction. Yeah, he was a keeper.

#carmy berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto imagine #fx the bear imagine #rita writes

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spirit-amplified · 3 months

Text

Defense Magick: The Power of Reversing Oil to Protect and Cleanse

Reversing Oil is indeed a fascinating tool in the realm of protection magick and defense magick. Its ability to reflect negative energy back to its source is a concept found in various magickal traditions, often linked to the idea of sympathetic magick, where like attracts like. The ingredients used in the oil are typically chosen for their protective and reversing properties, such as certain herbs, roots, and essential oils known for their ability to ward off negativity.

Combining Reversing Oil with Mirror Magick is a clever and powerful approach. Mirrors have long been associated with reflecting and deflecting negative energy, making them a natural complement to the oil's properties. Together, they can create a potent barrier against harmful intentions.

It's important to note that while tools like Reversing Oil can be beneficial, they are not a substitute for addressing the root causes of negative and malevolent energy in one's life. Understanding and addressing the source of negativity, whether it be through inner work, energy clearing, or other means, can also be crucial for long-term protection and well-being.

Note To Reader: This is my simple and basic reversal formula from my practice. Reminder, that when making oils please allow your herbs to infuse in the oil for 1 moon cycle (min 28 to 30 days) before using... unless you are doing the heat-infusion method. Feel free to adjust for your needs.

One of the wonderful aspects of creating your own Reversing Oil— is it can be tailored to your specific spiritual path and magickal practice. While there are traditional ingredients and correspondences associated with Reversing Oil, such as using herbs like Agrimony, Crab Shell, or Nettle, you can adapt the formula based on your own intuition, spiritual beliefs, and what resonates with you personally.

Some practitioners might incorporate additional ingredients or symbols that hold significance to them, such as specific crystals, colors, chants, or infused frequencies. The key is to infuse the oil with your intention and focus, aligning it with your desired outcome of protection and reversal of negative energy.

Experimenting with different ingredients and variations can be a valuable part of your magickal practice, allowing you to fine-tune the formula to better suit your needs and enhance its effectiveness.

Some Ways To Use Reversal Oil:

Reversal Candles

Mirror Magick: This includes mirror boxes, mirrors on altars (great for deflecting or cloaking magick), personally worn mirror charms, and the ingredients could be infused in vinegar instead of oil to make a Cleansing Reversal Spray for mirror magick.

Can be combined with other cleansing spells and workings.

Anointing self

Reversal Chant or Incantation:

Oh defense magick, ancient and wise, With powers that fill us with wonder and surprise. Reversing Oil, a potent blend, To cleanse, and protect, from all negative energy sent.

A shield it creates, around us to guard, From any harm, our beings it will ward. For any negativity that comes our way, Will be reversed, and sent back to where it may.

No hex or curse can ever defeat, The power of this oil, so pure and sweet. It breaks through barriers and breaks through binds, To To restore balance, and peace of mind. With every drop, we feel the shift, As negative energy begins to lift.

For with Reversing Oil, I stand strong, And any harm sent my way, will not last long.

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sensei-venus · 1 year

Note

That alpha Miguel post was great 🤤

It made me think of alpha hawk who just wants a mate so bad but he hasn't found the right omega yet which bums him our bc he wants a pretty omega and some pups already 😓

And then one day he's hanging out with hks friends at thenmall or smtg and he sees chubby omega reader walking in a pretty sundress and he thinks she has the most perfect breeding hips and her scent is so nice and he just fucking bails on his friends to go talk to her bc that's her, that's his omega

(Unedited) (This isn’t really NSFW-ish,sorry)

“So how's the work at the dojo going? Miguel was telling me about it earlier on the phone.”

Sam said picking at her tray of mall fries, Miguel was busy trying to shove a hand-sized pretzel down his throat next to her. Demetri was busy meaning around on his phone, and Robby was chowing down on a thing of noodles next to him. Hawk rolled his eyes as he sat back in the mall's hard metal chair. He huffed as he looked at the shorter girl.

“It's going pretty good actually. Besides doing classes, Johnny and Daniel put me and Miguel on doing the summer camp this year. Whole shebang, Daniel even updated the campground and everything at the cabins.” Hawk preened a little at the success. Its been over two years of working at the dojo and three years out of highschool. He was proud of how far he had come.

Sam smiled at him saying “That’s great! I knew you guys where going to move up. I know you guys did camps last year how was that? You guys started doing elementary school classes too right?” Haw nodded at her. His mind flashed back to the previous year at the summer camp.

Hawk had been a bit nervous at the idea of taking on such young pups. They were so small and balls of energy at that age too. That energy was used well during classes, he thought it was funny to see a room full of tiny pups do two hours of karate before basically passing out on the mats for a long overdue nap.

“You know since we are on the topic-”

“If you bring up pups I'm not going to hear it.”

Sam pouted as Hawk shut her down. He didn't want to hear about how she and her wife were trying to have pups. They started trying about a month ago with IVF stuff, sadly both of them were omegas so they had to find other options to start their family.

Sam also knew Hawks luck with omega’s. After his failed relationship with Moon back in high school he didn't have much luck after that. He also realized Moon was never his mate, at least not his true one. Moon was pretty and nice and a great omega but she was missing something that not even Hawk could pinpoint. They both knew it and went their separate ways on food terms. But after that Hawk didn't have much of a dating life after that, a few one-night stands but nothing official.

Deep down it upset him and even made him a little bit depressed to be alone like that. Not not have someone by his side to love, the alpha instinct to have a mate and protect them. It eat away at him and he used anger as a way to deflect outsides like Sam.

Miguel spoke up saying “Me and my wife where thinking about having some soon, we just moved into the new house so there is room now. We haven’t really decided, we are thinking about just letting it happen? Not really fully planning for it I guess.” He shrugged. Hawk rolled his eyes as he looked at Demetri who was finally off his phone for a moment.

“Don't ask me-”

“I'm not in this discussion either, leave me out of it.” Robby side-eyed the group as he finished his noodles. Both Demetri and him where a dead end on the idea of pups in the first place. Both of them are not really interested in the idea at the moment. No one blamed them, Demetri was in his own little world with his girlfriend and Robby had no clue about small pups in the first place.

Hawk huffed as they sat at the table for a while, more small talk going on but Hawk choose to tone them out.

The group later got up and left the courtyard to explore the great of the mall. Hawk was just happy that they could get passed the conversation on mates and pups.

His mind was focused on following the group as they walked around the slightly busy mall. But something made him start looking around frantically. He stopped mid-step before looking around the area, the rest of the group not noticing and continued walking. Leaving the alpha behind.

He turned up his nose as he sniffed the air. There where hundreds of different scents that filled the air but one was making his head spin and pulling him. It filled his nose and made his heart thump harder in his chest. It was sweet and warm, it almost felt like it could coat his lungs like warm soft butter. It was like a sweet cream almost. His eyes looked around as he sniffed harder, trying to find the source of the scent.

Finally, he locked onto the omega that was steadily pumping out the scent.

She probably didn't even know she was doing it. She definitely didn't smell like she was on any one of suppresents with how thick her scent was.

He really couldn't help the way he was checking her out from afar. She was breathtaking, she had on a frilly sun dress that fit her perfectly and moved and swayed with the slightest movement.

Shit and her hips, wide and filling out the dress perfectly so he could see all of her. Hips thick and filling, he could practically already feel the way they molded under his hands as he felt her up. From the view he had her ass matched her hips, big and fat. His mouth watered not only from her scent but the view he had of her. He couldn't help but cut across the open mall area, passing and bumping into people as he jogged over to her.

Her sweet scent only got stronger the closer he got to her.

She finally turned around a bit more so he could see her fully. She was thick and wide all over. Fluffy stomach and thick arms, round cheeks, and full lips that were turned up in a small smile as she looked around. Her eyes seemed to almost glimmer as she looked at the mall's shops.

Suddenly he felt too close.

Maybe because he was less than a foot away from her now and her scent was making his mouth water.

“I uh think you dropped this.”

Her voice was like sugar as it filled his head.

“Oh yeah thanks, didn't even notice I dropped it. The names Hawk by the way.”

“I'm guessing it's because-”

“Yep it's the hair.”

She giggles as he points the his short mohawk that he was still rocking from highschool.

Their talk was long and they ended up walking around the mall with one another. He found out she was new to the area and was trying to get acclimated to the new place. The mall seemed to be the perfect place to explore first.

Hawk couldn’t take his eyes off of her the whole time. It was like she was pulling him in with every second he spent talking to her, standing next to her. She was so nice it was hard not to just look away for a split second.

It wasn’t until over two hours later when he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. He quickly pulled it out and checked his messages. There where about five or so texts in the group chat he was in with everyone.

“Hey where did you go?”

“Dude you did not ditch us.”

“Was this because of the whole pup conversation? It’s stupid you would just leave because of that.”

He could only smirk as he spared a glance over at the chatty happy omega that was walking next to him. He moved a bit closer to her, their shoulders brushing together.

She didn’t move away from the action.

He smirked back down at his phone as he started texting back.

“That might not be a issue soon enough. I ditched you guys for better stuff. Talk to y’all later.”

He shoved his phone back into his pocket after he sent the text.

He ignored the new frantic vibration’s of his phone as he leaned in closer to the Omega for the time being.

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voidpetrova · 9 months

Text

eternal enmity — edward cullen x reader

☄. *. ⋆

content warnings and genres: potential somnophilia in a non-sexual way — angst, fluff

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

synopsis: in the clandestine world of vampires, two rival families have held a bitter feud for centuries. the cullens, known for their discipline and compassion, stand in stark contrast to your enigmatic and powerful (l/n) clan, whose members embrace their primal instincts. as tensions escalate between the families, you and edwars find yourselves drawn to one another against all odds.

✧.*

in the moonlit heart of a world veiled in shadows, where ancient rivalries thrived like whispered secrets, two beings from disparate bloodlines met under the cover of night. edward cullen, his porcelain skin glistening like ethereal marble in the pale glow, stood at the edge of the forest clearing, his amber eyes reflecting a lifetime of restraint. on the opposing side of destiny's divide, you stood there, your mesmerizing figure with eyes the color of midnight and an aura of undeniable power, emerged from the dark expanse, the air around you charged with a tension that transcended your individual lives. in that fleeting moment, as your eyes locked across the divide that had severed your families for ages, the world itself seemed to hold its breath, as if aware that the threads of your fate were destined to intertwine in a way that could either mend or shatter the fragile fabric of your world.

“i thought you knew better than to come onto my property.” you scoffed at his words, your voice a mixture of defiance and curiosity. the moonlight danced upon your skin, casting ethereal patterns that seemed to mirror the intricate complexities of the choices that had brought you here. “these forests will never have anything of yours cullen,” your eyes glimmered with an unexplicable spark. “except maybe your spillt blood, in due time.” edward's lips curled into a half-smile, a gesture that held a hint of both amusement and frustration.

“i was hoping you'd say that—so hostile,” he replied, his voice a melodious blend of velvet and vulnerability. he took a cautious step closer, the tension between you palpable, as if the magnetic pull between your opposing worlds was too strong to resist. “we've danced around this rivalry for centuries, but isn't it time we questioned the reasons behind it?”

your heart raced, torn between the teachings of generations and the enigmatic pull of the present moment. you had been raised to view the cullens as adversaries, as a symbol of all that your family fought against. yet, the way edward's eyes bore into yours seemed to speak of a shared longing for something more than the enmity that had defined your existence.

“if by reasons, you mean your great-grandfather sacrificing mine, then sure,” you retorted, your voice dripping with scorn. the weight of your family's history bore down on you, fueling a fire of anger and determination. you took a menacing step closer, your gaze never wavering from edward's.

he sighed, his expression a mix of regret and understanding. “i won't deny the past, the mistakes that were made. but dwelling on the actions of our ancestors only perpetuates the cycle of hatred. we have the power to forge our own path, to choose a different fate.”

your patience had worn thin, and his words ignited a storm of rage within you. with a sudden burst of energy, you lunged at him, your fists connecting with his chest. the element of surprise worked to your advantage as you watched him slam into the various trees that surrounded you. the moonlight illuminated the battle, casting erratic shadows across the clearing.

edward managed to deflect some of your blows, his reflexes giving him an edge. however, fueled by a lifetime of resentment, you fought with every ounce of your strength, your determination unwavering. adrenaline coursed through your veins as you exchanged blows, the pent-up fury of generations propelling you forward.

in a swift move, you managed to catch him off guard, delivering a powerful blow that sent him stumbling back. he crashed into another tree, his surprised expression a stark contrast to the controlled demeanor he usually exhibited. as he regained his footing, he assessed you with a newfound respect, his amber eyes shimmering in the moonlight.

the tension between you remained palpable, a testament to the clash of wills that had taken place. breathing heavily, you held your ground, your body aching but your spirit unbroken. the realization that you could stand up to edward, to the embodiment of the rival family that had haunted your history, ignited a spark of defiance within you.

“we're not as weak as you've believed us to be,” you said, your voice steady despite the adrenaline that still coursed through your veins. you leaned towards edward, his back against the trunk of the tree as his eyes bored into yours. you raised your foot, black, sharp heel pressing into his chest, your eyes never leaving his.

“give carlisle my best regards.”

edward's gaze held a mixture of astonishment and respect. slowly, he nodded, acknowledging the strength you had just demonstrated. in that moment, you knew that you had shattered the mold that had confined your family's destiny for generations. whether the future would be one of continued conflict or potential reconciliation remained uncertain, but you had proven that you would not be defined solely by the rivalries of the past.

that night, you slept peacefully, exhaustion from the earlier altercation and the care you had provided your ailing mother finally catching up with you. the room was dimly lit, the soft glow of the moon filtering through the curtains. nestled under the covers, you lay in blissful slumber, completely unaware of the world outside your dreams. you had tended to your sick mother with unwavering devotion, ensuring she was comfortable before you retired to your own room. fluffing her pillows and administering her medication, you had embraced your role as her caregiver, a role you fulfilled with love and tenderness.

sleep claimed you with a gentle touch, your worries and resentments momentarily forgotten. your breathing was steady, your features relaxed as you drifted through dreams, a tranquil smile gracing your lips. the rhythm of your heart matched the quiet cadence of the night, a soothing lullaby to your tired soul.

unbeknownst to you, the shadows outside your window held a secret observer. edward cullen stood in the periphery, his golden eyes fixed on you with a mixture of fascination and curiosity. the very being who had confronted him in a burst of anger and strength now lay before him in vulnerable repose.

he watched the rise and fall of your chest, a silent witness to the peace that had settled over you. in the stillness of the night, the walls that separated your worlds seemed to fade away, leaving only the fragile vulnerability of a shared humanity.

“so beautiful,” he was careful not to wake you as he sat on the bed, next to your head. his hands stroked your cheek, cupped your jaw. he admired the way you found peace in the silence as he tucked your hair behind your ear. “never seen anything like you.”

as the hours ticked by, edward's vigil remained unbroken. his thoughts swirled with a mixture of emotions—wonder at the depth of your resilience, a newfound appreciation for your strength, and a lingering sense of uncertainty about the path ahead. the rivalry between your families remained a chasm to be crossed, a history to be reconciled.

with the first light of dawn, edward turned away from your window, his silent presence retreating into the shadows. the secret he held—of watching over you as you slept—was one he would carry with him, a reminder of the complexity of the emotions he had witnessed in the stillness of the night.

and so, the world outside continued to turn, the rivalries and tensions ever present. but in the quiet moments, beneath the veil of sleep, a connection had been established—an unspoken understanding that transcended the divisions that had separated you for so long.

“you look well rested, dear. you should head to school soon,” your mother's voice sounded weak as she spoke, her words tinged with concern. you gazed at her, a mixture of hesitation and determination in your eyes. the thought of leaving her in her fragile state gave you pause, but you knew you couldn't let your studies falter.

“i'll be back as soon as school ends, mom,” you assured her, offering a reassuring smile. you adjusted the covers around her, making sure she was comfortable before you stood up from the edge of her bed.

she nodded, a small smile playing on her lips. “you're a good daughter, (y/n). always taking care of me.”

you brushed a strand of hair from her forehead, your heart full of love and worry. “it's my duty, mom.”

after a final glance, you reluctantly left the room, closing the door softly behind you. the hallway was quiet, and as you moved through your home, images of your family's history and the rivalry with the cullens flashed through your mind.

as you prepared to leave for school, your mother's voice drew you back. she beckoned you to sit by her side once more, and you obliged, concern etched across your features.

“before you go, there's something i need to tell you,” she began, her voice carrying a weight of history and emotion. “the rivalry between our families, it's not just about past grievances. there's a tale of loss and misunderstanding that runs deep.”

you listened intently as she shared stories of long-held grudges, misunderstood intentions, and the clashes that had become a legacy. how you had lost your father long ago due to a sacrificial suicide in order to keep your legacy going. how your great-grandfather fought until his very last breath. but then, her tone shifted.

“though our families have been at odds for so long, I have to admit, i've always had a fondness for edward and esme cullen,” she confessed, her voice softening. “they've shown kindness that goes beyond the feud. esme, especially, has a heart of gold.”

the revelation surprised you, a hint of intrigue mingling with your curiosity. “why? how can you feel that way about them when they're part of the rival family?”

she sighed, her gaze distant as if lost in memories. “sometimes, dear, we become trapped by the enmity of the past, and we forget that not everyone is defined solely by their family name. edward and esme have their own struggles, their own desires for a better world. don't close your heart to the possibility of understanding, even amidst the rivalry.”

her words left you thoughtful, a new perspective taking root within you. as you left for school, your mind buzzed with a mix of emotions—resentment for the history that had shaped your world, curiosity about the complexities of the cullens, and the burgeoning realization that perhaps there was more to discover beneath the surface of your family's rivalries.

as you walked into the school corridors, the weight of your family's history clung to you like a heavy cloak. the air was filled with the mundane chatter of students, but your focus remained on the rivalry that had been a part of your life for as long as you could remember. and then, you spotted him—edward cullen, the embodiment of your rival family's legacy. he approached you, a small smile on his lips as he attempted to initiate a conversation.

“good morning,” he greeted, his tone polite but casual. you rolled your eyes, adopting the urge to ram his head into the wall. “it was, until now.” he chuckled softly, seemingly unperturbed by your sarcasm. “you know, (y/n), we don't have to be at each other's throats every time we cross paths.”

you raised an eyebrow, your lips curling into a sardonic smile. “where's the fun in that? besides, didn't we establish that you're not exactly up to the task of handling me?”

his amusement was evident, though he maintained his composure. “touché. but must we do this in such a public place?”

you leaned in slightly, your tone dripping with sarcasm. “heaven forbid we tarnish the school's pristine reputation with our little spat. wouldn't want the walls to crumble from the sheer shock of it.”

edward's gaze held a hint of amusement, but there was a sincerity in his eyes as he continued, “how's your mother doing?”

your heart clenched at the mention of your mother. the façade of snarkiness faltered, and your eyes darkened, a flash of anger and grief surfacing in an instant. your fingers twitched, and your lips quivered with a dangerous promise.

“keep her name out of this.” you hissed, your voice low and dangerous. The control you had over your emotions teetered on the edge, and your eyes almost flickered with an intensity that hinted at something far more than human.

edward's expression shifted from playful to concerned, his gaze softening as he recognized the depth of your turmoil. he raised his hands in a placating gesture, his voice soothing. “i'm sorry. i didn't mean to upset you.” taking a deep breath, you managed to regain control over your emotions, your eyes returning to their normal state. “don't,” you warned, your voice tinged with a mix of pain and vulnerability. edward nodded, his understanding evident. “alright. i won't bring it up again. just know that if you ever want to talk, i'm here.”

the sincerity in his words was palpable, and despite the layers of enmity that had defined your relationship, you couldn't help but acknowledge the genuine concern in his gaze. as you watched him walk away, you found yourself torn between the bitterness of the past and the tentative bridge that he was trying to build between you.

as the day progressed, you found yourself wrestling with the complexity of your emotions. the rivalry that had defined your life seemed to blur as you considered the possibility that there might be more to edward cullen than met the eye. the conversation at school had shaken something within you—a seed of doubt about the absolutes you had believed in for so long.

when the final bell rang, you gathered your belongings and made your way home. the familiar warmth of your mother's smile greeted you, and you couldn't help but wonder if there was a way to shield her from the animosity that had consumed your family for generations.

as you sat down by her side, her weak voice whispered, “did something happen at school?” you hesitated, then sighed. “yeah, mom. something happened.”

her eyes searched yours, and you found yourself recounting the day's events—the tense encounter with edward, the snarky remarks, and the unexpected moments of vulnerability.

your mother listened intently, her expression a mixture of understanding and concern. when you finished, she reached out, her hand finding yours in a gesture of comfort.

“you are my biggest pride. you are not defined by your fangs and crimson eyes, but by your strength. i raised a strong girl,” she said softly. “but never forget, there's always a choice. you don't have to follow the path that's been laid out for you.”

her words resonated deeply, and you realized that the struggle between your family and the cullens was only a fraction of the greater struggle within your own heart. as the sun set, casting a warm glow over the room, you clung to the hope that perhaps there was a way to transcend the past and forge a different path—one that held the promise of understanding, reconciliation, and maybe even a hint of unexpected love.

the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow over the cullen residence. inside, edward stood in the study, surrounded by his family members. he took a deep breath, his amber eyes reflecting the turmoil that had consumed his thoughts since the encounter at school.

“i need to talk to you all about something,” he began, his voice steady but laced with vulnerability. his family members turned their attention to him, their expressions a mix of curiosity and concern.

alice, perceptive as always, spoke first, her voice filled with sympathy. “we can tell something's been bothering you, edward. What's on your mind?”

edward's gaze shifted to carlisle, seeking his father's wisdom. “it's about (y/n) (l/n). i can't explain it, but there's something about her. despite everything, i find myself drawn to her in a way i can't ignore.”

carlisle's expression was understanding, his features softening. “feelings can be complex, edward. it's natural to question the boundaries that have been set for us. but remember, any connection between our families carries immense weight.”

jasper's conflicted aura was palpable, his emotions a whirlwind of uncertainty. “it's not that simple, edward. our history with the (l/n) clan— it's not something we can just sweep aside.”

esme, the matriarch of the family, sighed softly, her voice carrying a hint of nostalgia. “i've always had a fondness for her mother, despite everything. she's a strong woman who's endured so much. if there's a way to find common ground, perhaps it's worth exploring.”

edward's gaze shifted to rosalie and emmett, their expressions far less accommodating. rosalie's eyes held a fierce intensity, her voice dripping with venom. “you can't seriously be considering this, edward. (y/n)'s a part of a family that's caused us nothing but pain.” emmett's agreement was evident in his stern expression, his arms crossed over his chest. “rosalie's right. this is a dangerous path to tread.”

edward's patience was tested, and he met rosalie's intensity with an unwavering gaze. “you don't get to make that decision for me. and threats won't change my mind.” a tense silence hung in the air as the family confronted the magnitude of esward's emotions. then, with a flicker of movement, his eyes locked onto rosalie's, his voice firm.

“you need to back off, rosalie. threatening (y/n) won't end well for anyone, especially not you.”

her lips curled into a snarl, her own threat on the tip of her tongue. but as she met edward's unyielding stare, a shadow of doubt seemed to cross her features. the tension was thick, the air charged with unspoken challenge.

in that moment, it was clear that the fragile balance between their families was hanging by a thread—one that could either break and plunge them into further darkness, or be a catalyst for a new understanding that transcended generations of enmity. as edward held his ground, his heart conflicted yet resolute, the future remained uncertain, fraught with both danger and the potential for an unexpected kind of redemption.

past midnight, the air was cool and still as edward stood at a distance from your home. assuming you were asleep, he had come to resume his nightly observation, a habit he had developed. the moonlight cast a silvery glow over the surroundings, and for a while, he remained a quiet observer of the tranquility that enveloped your residence.

but then, a faint sound reached his ears—a rhythmic thud that didn't belong to the night's calm. curiosity piqued, he approached your garage, his footsteps almost soundless on the pavement. there, through a partially open door, he caught sight of you, boxing with a punching bag.

the sight took him by surprise. the raw power in your movements, the intensity of your focus—it was a side of you he hadn't expected. he watched as you unleashed your frustrations on the bag, each punch an expression of strength and determination.

for a while, he remained hidden in the shadows, his gaze fixed on you. but then, you paused, as if sensing his presence. your eyes locked onto his, and edward found himself drawn into your fierce gaze.

you smirked, a hint of your attitude resurfacing. “well, well, well. look who's here. decided to join the party, did you?”

he stepped forward, his tone light but genuine. “just enjoying the show. didn't want to interrupt.”

your lips curled into a sardonic smile, your guard still up. “oh, trust me, edward. i won't be holding back.”

you launched yourself at him, your moves swift and precise. but edward's reflexes were unmatched, and he effortlessly deflected your attempts to land a hit. the dance between you two was a mix of strength and agility, each move calculated yet unpredictable.

after a series of deflections, edward seized an opportunity, and in a swift motion, he disarmed you, leaving you sprawled on the floor with him pinning you down.

your breath was uneven, your eyes blazing with a mixture of annoyance and something deeper. “you really are impossible to catch off guard, aren't you?”

he chuckled softly, his chest rising and falling with every breath. “it's a gift, i suppose.”

you glared at him, but your facade was slowly cracking, revealing a vulnerability that you rarely showed. “what do you want, cullen? came to show off your invincibility?”

his gaze softened, his weight shifting off of you as he settled onto the floor beside you. “no, (y/n). i wanted to see the woman who can hold her own in a fight. you're stronger than i anticipated.” your guard was still up, but there was a hint of surprise in your eyes. “you're not just saying that, are you?”

he shook his head, his sincerity evident. “no, i mean it. you've got a fire in you that's hard to ignore. it's impressive.”

you felt a rush of emotions, a mixture of pride and vulnerability. the walls you had built around yourself seemed to waver in the face of his genuine admiration.

“you know, you could always ask if you want a rematch,” you mused, a glint of challenge in your eyes.

he chuckled, his voice warm. “i'll keep that in mind. but for now, how about we sit and talk?”

you shifted so you were sitting upright, the tension between you slowly dissipating. as the two of you conversed, your attitude seemed to ebb away, replaced by a genuine exchange of thoughts and laughter. edward's presence felt different, less like a shadowy observer and more like a person you were discovering beyond the confines of rivalry.

in the quiet of your garage, beneath the watchful gaze of the moon, you found yourselves engaging in a conversation that felt unexpectedly sweet and comforting. the history of animosity that had separated your families seemed to fade into the background as you shared stories, traded banter, and glimpsed a different side of each other.

as the night wore on, a bond began to form—one that went beyond the enmity that had defined your world. and with every passing moment, the boundaries that had kept you apart seemed to blur, leaving only the flicker of an unexpected connection that held the promise of something more profound.

the nights turned into a routine—a secret rendezvous under the moonlight, away from prying eyes and the weight of their families' history. you and edward found yourselves drawn to each other, seeking solace and understanding amidst the chaos that surrounded them.

with time, the attitude that had once defined your interactions began to soften. sarcasm still danced on your lips, but beneath it, there was a genuine camaraderie that neither of you had expected. the training sessions continued, but they transformed into a form of unspoken communication—a dance of strength, trust, and shared secrets.

as edward watched you spar with the punching bag, he couldn't help but admire the grace and power in your movements. your dedication to perfecting your skills mirrored his own commitment to control and restraint. he saw in you a reflection of his own struggles, and that understanding fostered a connection that grew deeper with every passing night.

one evening, as the moon hung low in the sky, you found yourselves seated on the garage floor, the echoes of your laughter filling the air.

“you know, for someone from a rival family, you're not entirely terrible,” you teased, a playful glint in your eyes.

edward chuckled, his gaze warm as he looked at you. “i could say the same about you.”

the familiarity between you was evident, a testament to the unexpected bond that had formed. you leaned back against the wall, a sense of comfort settling over you.

“you realize that if our families found out about this, they'd probably have a collective heart attack,” you mused, a wry smile on your lips.

edward's expression shifted, his voice tinged with seriousness. “that's the challenge we face, isn't it? trying to find common ground amidst a history of conflict.”

your gaze met his, a mixture of determination and vulnerability in your eyes. “i've been thinking about that. maybe—maybe we don't have to be defined by our families' mistakes. maybe we can choose our own path.”

he nodded, his agreement evident. “it won't be easy, but i believe it's possible.”

as the night deepened, your conversation flowed, touching on subjects both lighthearted and profound. edward shared stories of his past, of the struggles he faced as a vampire, and the internal battles he had waged to remain true to his values. in turn, you opened up about the challenges you had encountered, the sacrifices you had made for your family, and the dreams you harbored beyond the confines of the rivalry as a vampire of your own.

the more you spoke, the more you realized how similar your experiences were, despite the differences that had once seemed insurmountable. the enmity that had divided your families felt like a distant memory as you bared your souls to each other, the walls between you crumbling with every shared truth.

as the first rays of dawn began to paint the sky, you looked at edward, a mixture of gratitude and uncertainty in your eyes. “i don't know where this will lead, edward. but for now, i'm glad we have this.”

he smiled, his expression soft and genuine. “me too. and who knows, maybe one day we can bridge the gap that's kept our families apart.”

with a sense of camaraderie that felt both newfound and ancient, you rose to your feet, the warmth of the bond between you guiding your steps. as you walked back toward the house, the moon's glow still illuminated your path, a gentle reminder of the unexpected connection that had blossomed under its watchful gaze.

deep within the heart of the woods, the moon's pale light filtered through the dense canopy, casting eerie shadows on the forest floor. you stood amidst the stillness, a solitary figure amidst the towering trees. you were alone for a reason—a reason that carried a weight heavy enough to bend your thoughts, your heart, your very existence.

the sound of footsteps disrupted the silence, the rustling of leaves echoing through the night. you tensed, your instincts honed by years of survival, years of defending yourself against the world that seemed determined to tear you apart.

emerging from the shadows was not the person you had anticipated. it wasn't edward, the one you assumed had tracked your down—instead, it was rosalie, her golden hair shimmering in the moonlight, her eyes cold and determined.

a surge of anger mixed with surprise coursed through your veins. it was as if fate had conspired to bring you face-to-face, to escalate the tension that had smoldered between your families for generations.

rosalie's lips curled into a scornful smile, her eyes flashing with challenge. “(y/n), i've heard you've been crossing lines you shouldn't. i'm here to make sure you understand your place.”

a dangerous fire ignited in your eyes, your stance shifting to one of defense. “so, you're playing watchdog now, rosalie? what a shocker.”

with a fierce battle cry, rosalie lunged forward, her movements calculated and precise. you barely had time to react, your instincts kicking in as you blocked the incoming strike. the collision of your bodies sent a shockwave of energy through the air, the sound of their impact resonating like a battle drum.

the fight that followed was a furious dance, a choreography of aggression and skill. you exchanged blows with ferocity, each strike a manifestation of the anger that had festered between your families. you were no stranger to combat—you had honed her skills through years of survival. but rosalie's strength was a force to be reckoned with, a testament to her years of existence.

“you really thought you could outwit us?” rosalie taunted, her fists landing blows that reverberated through your body.

gritting your teeth against the pain, you retaliated with a swift roundhouse kick, landing a blow to her midsection. “my last fight ended with my foot in edward's neck, don't push your luck.”

the battle raged on, each movement accompanied by the echo of taunts and grunts of exertion. they were a blur of motion, your attacks and defenses intertwined in a symphony of violence and frustration. the ground beneath you was churned by their movements, the very earth bearing witness to the clash of titans.

rosalie's eyes blazed with fury as she lunged forward, her strength and speed intensified. your met her head-on, blocking blows and launching counterattacks. the impact of your strikes was like thunder, each hit a testament to the unspoken animosity that fueled their rage.

as the fight escalated, you felt the heat of adrenaline coursing through your veins, the pain of the battle igniting a fire within you. the clash of fists and the thud of impacts became a rhythm, a beat that resonated through the night. you drew upon her own power, channeling every ounce of strength you possessed.

“you can't win this, (y/n),” rosalie growled, her fist connecting with your ribs.

blood pounded in your ears, your vision blurring for a moment as the pain radiated through your body. but the pain only served to fuel her determination, to remind you of the reason she had chosen solitude and strength over submission.

you unleashed a series of attacks, each movement fueled by the raw energy of your anger. your fists landed with precision, striking vulnerable points on rosalie's body. the sound of your collision echoed through the woods, a symphony of violence that seemed to carry the weight of generations.

but rosalie was relentless, her eyes burning with the intensity of her anger. she dodged some of your blows with fluid grace, retaliating with an onslaught of her own. the air was thick with tension, the energy of their battle crackling like electricity.

the minutes stretched into an eternity as the fight continued, both of you combatants pushing yourselves to the brink of their endurance. your body was a symphony of pain, every muscle protesting with each movement. but the fire within her burned brighter, a defiant flame that refused to be extinguished, allowing your knee to collide with rosalie's stomach as she choked on her own snarls.

“you're nothing,” rosalie sneered, her fist connecting with your jaw.

you staggered, your vision swimming for a moment as the blow disoriented you. but you refused to back down, channeling your anger and exhaustion into one final, desperate surge of energy.

summoning every last reserve of strength, you launched herself at rosalie, your movements fueled by sheer determination as you smacked your head into hers, blackening her vision while your fist collided with the bottom of her chin. both of your fists collided in a final, brutal clash, the force of the impact sending shockwaves through the air. the force of your collision reverberated through the forest, a testament to the intensity of their battle.

blood trickled from a gash on your forehead, your vision a blur of pain and exhaustion. but even in your battered state, you refused to yield. your breath came in ragged gasps, body aching with every movement.

rosalie's lips curled into a snarl, her eyes blazing with fury. “is this all you've got?”

you met her gaze with a mixture of defiance and exhaustion. “haven't even started yet.”

with a surge of energy that bordered on reckless abandon, you launched yourself at rosalie once more, your movements fueled by a desperate determination. the forest around you seemed to blur as you exchanged blow after blow, the air filled with the clash of your bodies and the fierce rhythm of the battle. but just as the tension reached a fever pitch, a voice cut through the chaos—a voice that carried an authority that demanded attention.

“enough.”

edward's voice held a command that could not be ignored. you and rosalie both turned, your eyes locking onto the figure that had emerged from the shadows.

rosalie's anger was palpable, her chest heaving as she glared at you. “don't interfere, edward. this is between us.”

but before rosalie could launch another attack, edward moved with a speed that was both breathtaking and inevitable. in a swift motion, he knocked her out, unconscious form crumpling to the forest floor.

you were left stunned, your breath catching in your throat as you stared at edward. you couldn't deny the shock that coursed through your veins at the sight of him defending you, even against his own family.

edward turned to you, his gaze softening as he approached. “(y/n), are you alright?” he asked, his concern evident.

you stared at him, a mixture of disbelief and gratitude in your eyes. “you had absolutely no reason to butt in.”

edward's expression was resolute, his voice steady. “i can't stand by and watch this violence. i don't want you getting hurt.”

you sighed, a mix of emotions swirling within her. “i don't need a prince charming to rescue me, edward.”

he met your gaze, his eyes sincere. “i know. but i can't help wanting to protect you.”

your heart wavered, the walls you had built over the years starting to crack. his admission touched something within you, a vulnerability that you hadn't allowed yourself to acknowledge.

as the moonlight filtered through the trees, you found yourself facing a choice—the choice to let go of the hatred that had consumed your world and embrace the possibility of a different kind of connection. the anger and resentment that had fueled your rivalry seemed to fade into insignificance as you looked at edward, the very person who had once been the embodiment of everything you despised.

in the silence of the woods, under the watchful gaze of the moon, you realized that the rivalries of the past could be rewritten into a story of redemption, understanding, and perhaps even love. as your defenses began to crumble, the bonds that tied your families apart loosened, leaving space for a fragile connection to take root—one that held the promise of a future beyond the confines of hatred and enmity.

the forest seemed to hold its breath as the silence enveloped you both. your heart was still racing from the intensity of the fight, the adrenaline coursing through your veins. but amidst the tension, there was a newfound vulnerability, a connection that neither of you had anticipated.

as you caught your breath, you looked at edward, your voice hesitant. “edward, how did you find me here? were you following me?”

edward's gaze remained steady, his amber eyes fixed on yours. he seemed to hesitate for a moment, as if weighing his words carefully. then, he finally spoke, his voice a mixture of honesty and vulnerability.

“i've been watching you,” he admitted, his tone soft but unwavering. “not just here in the woods, but when you sleep as well.”

your heart skipped a beat, your mind struggling to process his words. “you've been— watching me sleep?”

edward nodded, his expression sincere. “yes. i know it might sound strange, but i've felt a connection to you. it wasn't my intention to invade your privacy, but i couldn't help but be drawn to you.”

your initial reaction was a mixture of shock and unease. the idea of someone watching you sleep was unsettling, to say the least. but as you looked into edward's eyes, you saw something genuine and vulnerable—a glimpse of the person behind the enigmatic facade.

“i know it sounds strange,” he continued, his voice gentle. “but i wanted to make sure you were safe, especially after everything that has happened between our families. i never meant for you to find out like this.”

for a moment, the weight of his words settled upon you. the idea of someone watching over you, even in secret, offered a strange sense of comfort. and in edward's eyes, you saw the sincerity that he struggled to convey.

you let out a shaky breath, your defenses slowly crumbling. “i don't know how to feel about this, edward. it's a lot to take in.”

he nodded, his gaze never leaving yours. “i understand. i just want you to know that my intentions were never to cause you discomfort. i've been drawn to you in ways that i can't explain.”

as you looked at him, the walls you had built around your heart seemed to weaken. his honesty, however unconventional, carried a weight that transcended the rivalry that had defined your lives.

“i can't deny that hearing you say that brings some comfort,” you admitted, your voice softening.

edward's eyes held a mixture of relief and hope. “i'm glad. and i promise, from now on, i'll respect your boundaries.”

the air between you seemed to shift, the tension giving way to a tentative understanding. as you looked at him, you realized that the connection between you was far more complex than you had initially thought.

“thank you,” you whispered, your voice carrying a blend of gratitude and vulnerability.

edward smiled, a genuine warmth in his expression. “you're welcome.”

in that moment, beneath the moonlit canopy of the forest, the rivalry that had once defined your worlds seemed to fade into insignificance. the fragile connection between you and him held the promise of something unexpected—a bond that defied the odds, rewriting the narrative of hatred and animosity into one of redemption and, perhaps, an unexpected kind of love.

the cullen mansion stood in the moonlight, a silent witness to the tangled emotions that had brought you here. edward's presence at your side was a reminder of the connection that had begun to form between you—a connection that defied the boundaries of your families' rivalry.

as you stepped through the mansion's grand entrance, your guard remained firmly in place. you couldn't let yourself forget the animosity that had driven you for so long, the walls you had built to protect yourself from those who would seek to tear you down.

edward's voice was gentle as he spoke, breaking the silence that hung in the air. “my father, carlisle, can treat your wounds. he's a skilled doctor.”

you nodded, your gaze flickering to edward briefly before settling on the path ahead. the idea of being in the cullen home was both unfamiliar and uncomfortable, but you couldn't deny the allure of carlisle's reputation as a healer.

the hallway seemed to stretch on forever as you followed edward to a well-appointed room. inside, a tall, distinguished man with blond hair and a calming presence awaited you. this was carlisle cullen—the skilled physician and patriarch of the cullen family.

“hello, (y/n),” carlisle greeted, his voice warm and inviting. "edward told me about what happened. let's have a look at those injuries, shall we?"

your guard remained intact, but you nodded and allowed him to examine your wounds. as carlisle worked, his touch was gentle and his expertise evident. despite your reservations, you couldn't help but appreciate his care.

“you know,” carlisle began as he treated a particularly deep cut, “the history between our families stretches back many years. it was born from misunderstandings, grievances, and the mistakes of those who came before us.”

your gaze remained fixed on a distant point, the weight of his words sinking in. “mistakes that continue to affect us even now.”

carlisle's expression softened, his voice tinged with regret. “yes, i understand the pain this feud has caused. rosalie's behavior tonight was inexcusable. i apologize on her behalf.”

you met his gaze, a mixture of surprise and skepticism in your eyes. “apologies don't change the past.”

he nodded, acknowledging your sentiment. “you're right. but it's my hope that we can work towards a future where this cycle of animosity ends.”

as carlisle continued to treat your wounds, his words lingered in the air like a promise—a promise of change, of a possible bridge between the chasm that had separated your families for so long.

once the wounds were tended to, you stood, your guard still present but slightly less fortified. As you prepared to leave, his voice drew you back.

“before you go, (y/n), there's something i want you to know,” he said, his gaze steady and sincere. “since you've entered our lives, i've come to realize that there is much more to you than the history of our families. i'm very fond of you, and i believe in the potential for healing and understanding. please give my best wishes to your mother.”

your heart wavered, a mixture of emotions swirling within you. carlisle's words were unexpected, a beacon of hope in the midst of the turmoil that had shaped your world.

with a nod of gratitude, you turned to leave, edward at your side once again. the connection you had formed with him was growing stronger, and now, a new connection with carlisle seemed to be blossoming as well.

as you walked out of the mansion and into the night, you couldn't help but ponder the words of a man who had lived for centuries. the possibility of change, of rewriting the history of your families, lingered in the air—a possibility that both scared and intrigued you.

in the days that followed your visit to the cullen mansion, a new sense of curiosity began to replace the deep-rooted animosity that had driven you for years. you found yourself drawn to the idea of understanding your rival's world—the world of the cullens. with each passing day, your interactions with edward revealed layers of his personality that you hadn't anticipated.

one evening, edward suggested a walk in the nearby meadow. the moon hung low in the sky, casting a soft glow over the landscape as you strolled side by side.

“is this a common practice for your family?” you asked, a hint of genuine curiosity in your tone. edward chuckled, the sound carrying a note of amusement. “not exactly. we have our share of normal family activities, but a meadow stroll is often– a personal preference.”

you nodded, a small smile playing at your lips. “and what is it about this place that you find so appealing?”

he glanced at you, his golden eyes reflecting the moonlight. “it's a place of solitude, of quiet reflection. amidst the chaos of our lives, it's a sanctuary where we can momentarily escape.”

as you walked, the conversation flowed more freely than it had before. the animosity that had once defined your interactions seemed to fade into the background, replaced by a genuine exchange of thoughts and ideas.

in the soft glow of the moonlit meadow, the air was laced with a mixture of vulnerability and hope. as you walked alongside edward, the conversation flowed more openly than it ever had before, the barriers between you gradually breaking down.

“i've been thinking,” you began, your voice carrying a touch of hesitation, “about the things that matter most in life.”

edward's gaze was focused on you, his expression attentive. “and what have you concluded?”

your steps faltered for a moment as you considered how to put your thoughts into words. “my mother— she's been sick for a while now. no matter what we do, no matter the medication or treatment, nothing seems to make her better.”

edward's features softened with empathy as he listened. “i'm sorry to hear that, (y/n). it must be difficult for you.”

you swallowed the lump in your throat, a mixture of sadness and frustration welling up within you. “it's more than difficult. it's agonizing to watch her suffer and not be able to do anything about it.”

edward's eyes held a depth of understanding as he spoke, his words measured. “there's something you should know. my great-grandmother—she fell ill in a similar way when she refused to marry a member of your family due to the rivalry. it's said that the illness persisted until the rivalry was resolved.”

your heart skipped a beat at his revelation, your thoughts racing as you tried to piece together the implications of his words. “are you saying that my mother's illness— is connected to the rivalry between our families?”

edward nodded, his expression somber. “it's a theory, but it's one that has been passed down through generations. the animosity between our families seems to manifest in various ways, affecting even those who have no direct involvement.”

tears welled up in your eyes as the weight of his words settled over you. you had never considered that your mother's suffering might be tied to the very feud that had shaped your life.

“and the solution?” you whispered, your voice trembling.

edward's gaze was unwavering as he met your tear-filled eyes. “the solution is to end the rivalry once and for all. to find a way to heal the past, to rewrite the narrative that has kept our families apart.”

as the full realization of the situation dawned upon you, you felt a surge of emotion rising within you—a mixture of shock, grief, and a newfound determination.

“end the rivalry?” you repeated, your voice barely above a whisper. “but how?”

edward's eyes held a depth of sincerity as he spoke, his words carrying a weight that resonated within you. “there's a way to mend the wounds of the past. (y/n), i believe that by uniting our families, by marrying and sealing the bond between us, we can break the cycle of animosity and heal the rift that has caused so much pain.”

a gasp escaped your lips as his proposal sank in—a proposal that held the promise of not only a future for the two of you but also the chance to save your mother from her suffering.

tears streamed down your cheeks as you looked at edward, your emotions raw and unfiltered. and for the first time, you cried in front of him—a release of years' worth of pent-up emotions, of the pain and uncertainty that had defined your life.

edward stepped closer, his hand gently wiping away your tears. “i'm so sorry, (y/n). i didn't mean to upset you.”

you shook your head, your voice choked with emotion. “it's not your fault. it's just—a lot to take in.”

as you stood in that moonlit meadow, your heart felt both heavy and hopeful. the path that lay ahead was uncharted, a journey that held the potential for redemption, healing, and a love that defied the odds.

in that moment, you knew that the choices you made could reshape not only your destiny but also the destiny of your family and your mother. with edward by your side, the possibility of ending the rivalry and breaking the curse of suffering seemed within reach—a possibility that came with sacrifices, challenges, and the promise of a brighter future.

the afternoon sun bathed the cozy living room in warm light as you stood by your mother's side, your heart racing with a mixture of hope and trepidation. the time had come for edward to meet your mother—a pivotal moment that could determine the course of both your lives.

alice, esme, and carlisle stood beside edward, their presence a reassuring anchor amidst the uncertainty. your mother, though frail and weak from her illness, exuded a strength that had carried her through the years of suffering.

“mom,” you began, your voice soft but steady, “you know edward cullen, but you don't know how important he's become to me.”

your mother's gaze shifted to edward, her eyes wide with a mixture of surprise and curiosity. her frail hand clutched yours, seeking reassurance as she faced the unknown.

edward stepped forward, his presence a calming force in the room. “miss (l/n), it's an honor to officially meet you.”

your mother's lips quivered, her voice barely above a whisper. “i remember you,” edward's golden eyes met hers with sincerity, his expression genuine. “you used to sing to us when we were kids. i care deeply for your daughter, and i wanted to officially meet you to show you my intentions are genuine.”

tears welled up in your mother's eyes, a mixture of emotions passing over her features. fear, uncertainty, but also a glimmer of hope.

you gently squeezed her hand, offering her your support. “you said so yourself, edward's different, mom. he's not like the others.”

edward's voice was gentle as he continued, his words laced with vulnerability. “i know our families have a history, one that's caused pain and suffering. but i want to change that. i care for your daughter in a way that defies the past. i want to build a future together, one that's marked by love and understanding. this future may very well cure the disease you're harboring.”

esme's eyes glistened with tears, her heart touched by edward's words. carlisle's gaze held a mixture of respect and warmth, a silent acknowledgment of the significance of this moment.

your mother's breath hitched, her gaze locked onto edward's as if searching for truth in his eyes. “the legend is true, isn't it?"

edward nodded, his expression unwavering. "we believe it may be.”

as your mother's fear began to fade, replaced by a glimmer of acceptance, edward's presence seemed to exude a sense of reassurance and safety.

esme stepped forward to embrace your mother, her voice soft and emotional. “oh, my dear, you're even more frail than i remember. i'm so sorry.”

tears welled up in your mother's eyes as she looked at esme, a mixture of gratitude and emotion in her gaze. “esme, i've missed you so.”

carlisle's voice carried a weight of understanding as he spoke. “we're here to find a way to heal the wounds of the past, to mend the suffering that's been inflicted on both our families. it's a difficult path, but it's one we're willing to take.”

edward's eyes met yours, a shared determination passing between you. “we believe that by uniting our families, we can rewrite the narrative that's caused so much pain. with your blessing, we want to marry.”

your mother's gaze shifted from edward to you, her hand tightening around yours. she took a deep breath, her voice a whisper. “for the sake of healing, for the sake of both our families, i give you my blessing.”

tears streamed down your cheeks as you embraced your mother, your heart overflowing with gratitude and relief. the weight of generations seemed to lift in that moment—a weight that had shaped your lives and now, against all odds, held the promise of redemption.

the secluded clearing in the forest had been transformed into a place of quiet beauty, a sanctuary where the past was left behind and the promise of a new future beckoned. a delicate canopy of leaves and flowers framed the makeshift altar, creating an intimate space for the moment that would forever change the course of your lives.

you stood at the altar, your heart racing with a mixture of anticipation and nervousness. edward stood across from you, his gaze steady and unwavering—a reflection of the commitment and determination that had brought you to this point.

alice, esme, jasper and carlisle stood as witnesses, their presence a reminder of the bonds that had formed between your families. the air was filled with a sense of solemnity and hope, a testament to the journey that had led you to this day.

as the ceremony proceeded, the weight of your past seemed to dissipate with each word spoken, replaced by a sense of freedom and possibility. the vows you exchanged carried the weight of your shared intentions—a promise to rewrite the history that had kept your families apart and to build a future marked by unity and love.

finally, the moment arrived. the words of blessing were spoken, and you and edward stood face to face, hands clasped in a union that defied the odds. the world around you seemed to fade into the background as you leaned in, your lips meeting in a kiss that held the power to change everything.

the kiss was gentle, a testament to the tenderness and sincerity that had brought you together. as your lips touched, the air seemed to shift—a subtle change that resonated through the forest and the hearts of those who watched.

but it was your mother's reaction that told the most significant tale. as you and edward shared that kiss, a single tear escaped from your mother's eye, tracing a path down her cheek.

in that moment, as the tear fell, a wave of energy rippled through the air—an energy that carried with it the weight of generations. the poison that had afflicted your mother, the curse that had been tied to the rivalry between your families, seemed to lose its grip.

your mother's expression shifted from surprise to wonder, her breath hitching as she placed a hand over her heart. the pain that had once marked her features seemed to dissipate, replaced by a newfound vitality.

alice's eyes widened, her gasp echoing through the clearing. “look!”

and then, it happened. the transformation was swift yet profound. your mother's posture straightened, her features regaining a vibrancy that had long been absent. the lines of pain that had etched her face faded, leaving behind a countenance of health and happiness.

tears of joy welled up in your eyes as you looked at your mother—a mother reborn, freed from the grip of suffering that had plagued her for so long.

“i—i feel—” your mother began, her voice filled with awe and disbelief.

edward's eyes met yours, a shared understanding passing between you. as the kiss had marked the union of your hearts, it had also marked the end of the curse that had held your families captive.

the air seemed to hum with a sense of wonder, of the impossible made possible. the clearing was filled with the gentle rustle of leaves, the whisper of nature acknowledging the momentous shift that had taken place.

in the midst of it all, you and edward shared a smile—a smile that held the promise of a future that was unburdened by the shadows of the past. with your mother's healing came the realization that the power of love, unity, and forgiveness had the capacity to rewrite even the darkest of narratives.

and so, in the heart of the forest, under the canopy of leaves and the embrace of nature, you stood hand in hand with edward, a testament to the resilience of the human spirit and the healing power of a love that had defied all odds.

#twilight #new moon #eclipse #breaking dawn #edward cullen #edward x reader #edward cullen x reader #the cullens #alice cullen #jasper cullen #carlisle cullen

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millenialfanfictionaddiction · 2 years

Text

Being MSBY's Manager:

Manager with a Crush on Adriah Tomas

Adriah Tomas featuring MSBY x GN! Reader (reader is late 20s/early 30s)

Warnings: swearing

A/N: This is an request from @wisdomsunshine!

"What do you like about timeskip?" ITS TIMESKIP!

I mean LOOK AT THESE GUYS!! I CANT IMAGINE A MORE BEAUTIFUL THING 😭

Honestly have I told you all how much I love writing timeskip?

Because I do 🥰

But this isn't about me!

This is about you 😍

Our freaking precious MSBY manager!

Now, you've been manager for a while at this point

Like you were around before Bokuto, Sakusa, Atsumu and Hinata joined

The MSBY senior members thank God everyday for that 😐

Literally imagine if you would have just then thrusted in as manager right as the super volleyball idiots were joining 😬

Anyways, you were kind of like an older sibling to the younger guys

Being in your later 20s gave you alot of life experience that our sweet bbys didn't have

I mean they are literal children YN so please guide them 🤚🏻

For the older players, you were more a friend and someone they respected highly

Everyone adored you and you adored them

BUT 👀 there was a certain someone you who adored a bit more than the rest 🙃

That's right, our residen SIX FOOT SEVEN INCH TITAN MAN

Adriah Tomas 🥰🥰

Have I told you he's 6'7" yet? Because he's 6'7" inches YN...

NE WAYS you had such a crush on that man

Honestly can relate

Seriously what a cutie pie 🥺 with his dark hair and uneven bangs 😫

Please he's also literally the sweetest! He gives those funny, yet incredibly supportive teammate vibes

Plus he's literally always the first to volunteer to help and I stand by that

"Good morning YN! Do you need help?"

"Hey YN let me get that for you!"

"Here YN I opened this jar for you!"

Literally a pro at reaching high shelves ok 🤚🏻

Inunaki teases him about how he is such a simp for you YN

You both blush because AHHH YOU'RE JUST SO CUTE I CAN BAREKY STAND IT 😫

Adriah is a great help with the children younger guys and great at deflecting emo modes

Imagine this 🙌🏻

Bokuto has had the roughest day, missing all the shots

Hesnliterally planked in the middle of the floor

You are standing on the sidelines like 👉🏻🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️

"YN HANDLE THIS!"- Meian tells

You 👉🏻😐 🙄

Please Meian totally throws you under the bus at every chance YN

"Bokuto come on dude, everyone has bad days!"- You say

Bokuto rn 👇🏻

"YN can you move him we need to practice"- Atsumu

You 👉🏻 😐 WHY IS THIS ALL ON ME?!?!

So you try to logistically figure out how to move 6'3" 190 pound Bokuto off the court

You try pushing, that doesn't work

So you grab his arm and try to pull

Hmm still not working 🤨

Never-fear Yn, our precious giant Adriah is here to help!

"Hey YN, need some help?"

"Yeah I think if we roll him off the courtthay might be our best option"- you 🤔

Leave this to Adriah YN 🤚🏻

This man will literally HEAVE Bokuto over his shoulder andbhaul his ass off the court

You 👉🏻😐😳😲🥵

The team 👉🏻🙄

Bokuto 👉🏻 just flopped over Adriah's shoulder like a child having a tantrum

God we stan this man so hard 😭

So what's the problem you ask?

Why don't you just tell Adriah you like him?

Well you see, while you are 98% sure he likes you

There's a 2% chance he doesn't 🥺

And we CLING to that 2% chance YN

Like what if you confess and he's just like "ummm sorry YN, I don't like you"

Heartbroken 💔 for life, you'll never recover!

Literally Inunaki is so annoyed that you two keep doing this dance around each other

Inunaki is a Libero and he's our team bestie 💅🏼

WE STAN LIBEROS IN THIS HOUSE!

Anyways, Inunaki just so happens to know you like Adriah

And he also just HAPPENS 👀 to know that Adriah likes you

"How does he know that Tiffany?" Well I'm glad you asked

Literally this is how he finds out

He walks into the locker room and says "I think I'm going to ask YN on a date"

Adriah WHIPS his head in Inunaki's direction, standing to his full SIX FOOT SEVEN INCH height and walks over to Inunaki

Inunaki 👉🏻something wrong Adriah 🙃

Adriah 👉🏻😑

"Dont worry big guy, I was just making sure I wasn't wrong before I told you YN likes you"- Inunaki 🕺

Adriah goes through a whole slew of emotions

Because wait... YOU LIKE HIM??

He probably full on panics for a few minutes

Mans maybe confident on the court but he is not confident when it comes to dating

"Stop panicking dude, just ask YN out!"- Meian

"Ok ask YN out... wait how do I ask YN out?"- Adriah

Meian, Barnes and Inunaki 👉🏻 😐🤦🤦‍♂️🤦

"YN really likes <favorite flower> and <favorite food>"- Sakusa

"Ohh YN also really likes <favorite hobby>"- Hinata

"And a <favorite animal> stuffie!"- Atsumu

Adriah, Meian, Barnes and Inunaki rn 👉🏻👁👄👁

"What? We hang out with YN a lot!"- Sakusa

"Yeah, they have to watch us after practice remember?"- Hinata

Please Adriah is running to his phone to take notes

Mans is going to plan a super romantic date for you both

He plans to ask you out go dinner on Saturday night after the teamss practice on Friday

Good thing there won't be a major life event that occurs on Friday 😃

Nope just a friendly rivelry match between MSBY and their besties, the Schweiden Adlers 🙃

What fun 🥰

Love that for them honestly

Anyways, the Adlers, well they don't have a manager 😔

It's really unfortunate

Oh well, too bad I guess you'll just have to fill that void YN!

Honestly the Adler's love you YN and who can blame them!

Our freaking perfect angel 😇

In fact, the Adlers love you SO much that they occupy the majority of your time

And MSBY oof- they do not like that

Mainly a certain man in particular 😏

Because you see, the Adlers has their own SIX FOOT SEVEN INCH giant by the name of Tatsuto Sokolov

Seriously YN 🙄 if you don't I will-

You must attract the Titans YN because Tatsuto has been ON you since the Adlera arrived

"Hey YN, it's good to see you again"- Tatsuto

"Hey Tatsuto! I'm so glad you guys could make it"- you 🥰

Adriah rn 👉🏻 >:(

"Hey YN do you think you could help me wrap my fingers?"- Tatsuto

"Oh sure!"- You

"You really gonna let Sokolov take YN from You?"- Inunaki, our resident drama starter

"Dont be silly Inunaki, Sokolov is miles ahead of Adriah, I mean look at him!"- Atsumu adds, stirring the pot

Adriah looks over to see Sokolov caressing your cheek 😱

Oh HELL no

Our mans Adriah is not gonna take that, so he giant stomps over to you and Tatusto

"Hey Adriah- what the heck?!?!"- You say as Adriah pulls you behind him

"Hey Adriah, what's up?"- Sokolov 😏

"YN is mine! Back off!"- Adriah 😠

You 👉🏻🤨 I am???

"YN I like you and I want to take you out on a date! I was going to ask you tonight after practice but I just couldn't stand it any longer. So what do you say?"- Adriah

You 👉🏻😐😳🥺 you-you like me??

"I've liked you for a while YN but I didn't know how to tell you-"

"I like you too Adriah!"- You

Give the man a hug right NOW YN 😤

while you two are hugging, Sokolov walks over to Inunaki who slips him a $20

Meian 👉🏻😐🤨 wtf...

"What? I just took out a little insurance to make sure he actually asked YN out!"- Inunaki

"You're just as bad as Atsumu"- Sakusa

Atsumus 👉🏻😱 offended

You and Adriah 🫂 🤗 🥰

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meshlasolus · 2 years

Text

House Of Memories (29/?)

Obi-Wan Kenobi x Padawan!reader

Warnings: okay so like this one's fun, very dark, but fun. not really a lot of warning except for maybe clone wars typical violence??

Summary: You've lost your path to the light... in an attempt to even the score, you travel with Anakin and Ahsoka to kill the man who took your master from you.

A/n: i cannot explain how much i LOVE this episode.... y'all needs understand i'm so hyped for this plotline it's my favorite in all of clone wars it's so angsty UGH

also y'all if you like the story, maybe consider buying me a coffee :)

Words: 3.8k

You did not sleep; you were never able to. You lied still until sunrise, and never rested. Obi-Wan was at eternal rest, but you were restless. It was impossible to calm your mind.

Your entire body was unable to move, weighted down by the heaviness in your head, swirling around and taunting you with its gruesome storm.

You faintly were able to hear the knocking sounds, two taps and then two more on the front entrance door. It shouldn't have made you anxious to hear it, but you were in no state of being to have any sort of company in your presence. You doubted you'd even be able to look whoever it was in the eye. You sure as hell wouldn't be able to speak.

Your prayers for them to leave went unanswered, as the door was opened, and a pair of footsteps came into the apartment, unwelcome. You curled even deeper into your solemn cocoon of sheets and blankets, closing your eyes and feeling darkness wash over you.

You'd welcomed the darkness during the night. The once scary and uncontrollable dark force inside of you, became the only thing that could bring you a semblance of peace... nay, not peace, but a quieter mind. When the darkness consumed you, your thoughts were not painful, just angry. You longed for revenge, to ease the pain and suffering. You were willing to let it drive you, to keep going, to live on after the loss you swore would be your end.

"She's not in her room," you heard Ahsoka's confused voice, and Anakin's reply, which came unsurprised from her words.

"She's in his."

You braced yourself to face your friends, or rather them facing you. You took in a breath in time with the small hiss of the door retracting, and now those same four feet brought their steps up to you, seeing your huddled up form lying motionless in the bed... Obi-Wan's bed.

"Is she awake?" Ahsoka couldn't be sure, she wasn't so in tune with your presence as Anakin was, and yes, he knew you were awake, and trying to avoid them.

He sat beside you on the bed, his hand lifting to rest on your shoulder, his thumb moving in soothing motions that did nothing to help you.

"We got him, the sniper," Anakin told you, and your eyes shot open. What? They got him. What does he mean by that?

"Is he dead?" you asked shortly, your tone was so flat and uncaring, the complete opposite of what you used to be.

"No, he's in a max security prison."

You forced yourself to sit up, looking at Anakin with your dead, sleep deprived expression. He didn't look all that great himself, but you were a wreck. What happened to you?

You shot him a glare, and he could have sworn he saw a golden glow reflect off the center of your irises in that moment. It was gone the next, but it frightened him all the same.

"You brought him in without me?" you barely moved, your normal expressions of rage, with your wild hand movements were not included with your statement... but no, this was far more terrifying. The state you were in, the way you spoke, it all told Anakin that you were battling the darkness, or maybe it had won. He was in no position to tell you it was wrong, because he himself was having to fight it, still.

"The council thought it best to avoid your inclusion," Ahsoka replied, trying to defend Anakin, but also deflect your attention for a moment. You had never looked more lethal than you did right now, wrapped up in Obi-Wan's blankets and clinging to his bed.

You turned your head in her direction now, and she gasped, having seen the face of the girl she knew become cold and ruthless.

"The council did not know what Obi-Wan meant to me; you did. And you decided not to tell me about finding his killer," you had to use every ounce of restrain in your body not to force call an object to your hand, before you would inevitably throw it across the room, shattering someone breakable. You still loved these people, you couldn't hurt them.

"He was unarmed, you would have killed him."

Anakin's words meant nothing to you, because yes, of course you would kill him. He could be begging for mercy at your feet, and you would use your saber to cut every limb from his body until he was unable to even crawl to safety, then you would end his life in the slowest, most agonizing way you could possibly think of.

"And would you have stopped me?" It was a valid question, if you had been there, you wouldn't have hesitated, but would Anakin let you go through with it?

He ducked his head, unwilling to lie to your compelling question, but not wanting to answer truthfully, knowing it would be a travesty against your master's teachings.

"Obi-Wan would not want us to act on revenge."

Good answer, but not the one you were looking for.

"The answer is no; you would have let me kill him in an instant," you corrected him, and he shot his head up to meet your dark eyeline. Everything about you emanated so much weight, something so deep that he began to feel the effects of it in his signature.

"It's not the Jedi way," Ahsoka reminded you, and for a moment you thought you heard Obi-Wan's voice echoing the sentiment to your mind, but it didn't instill in you a need to respect it.

"The Jedi have become corrupt, the republic has made us an army, and we do their bidding without hesitation. The Jedi way has fallen far from what it used to be, and you both know it."

You were getting more frustrated as the time passed, and you sent into Anakin's mind a hint that you wanted them to just stay away from you, to leave you alone and to let you wallow in your misery.

He looked at Ahsoka and nodded for her to leave the room, before ultimately, he stood to his feet, and followed after her. Before he shut the door, he turned back one more time. He shuddered to even speak the words he wanted to say, but they needed to be said.

"Obi-Wan said to us once, that if you suffer to let go, you will suffer to grow."

And then he was gone.

Obi-Wan was ever as wise as his former Master, and often you wondered why he was never a consular like Qui Gon. It was his spirit that was a Guardian. His passionate heart to defend his will and the will of the force, to defend those he cared about, the ones closest to him, and to defend you. He always defended you, and you relied on it, more than you should, but now you have to fight your own battles, and you need more strength than you have.

Sometimes suffering is just suffering. It doesn’t make you stronger. It doesn’t build character. It only hurts.

You heard the news of the prison break, it echoed in the halls outside of your apartment, and you were practically jumping out of bed to make sure you hadn't misunderstood anything.

The chancellor was sending Anakin and Ahsoka to capture the escaped prisoners, that of which included Moralo Evol, Cad Bane, and of course, Rako Hardeen.

They would likely be leaving soon to follow the trail that the prison had begun to track.

You needed to be on the ship before it left, this was your chance. This was your chance to even the score, it was your chance to avenge the life of your Master, the one you'd adored so dearly.

You were wearing his robes, and his old cloak, which he kept with him since his padawancy, even after taking the trials, it was a sentimental article that meant something to him. It fit you quite well, and it was full of echoes in the force, from his time and training before you entered his life. There were some remnants of yourself you could sense within the ragged fabric, a younger version of yourself who's trouble seemed so foolish, now.

Your saber was on your hip as you walked down the corridors to the elevator. There were few Jedi, but several clone squads that stared on. Some were from the 212th, which was now your battalion by inheritance. You never gave any of them a second glance, your focus was uninterrupted, and would remain that way until you had accomplished your main goal.

Stepping into the elevator, you caught sight of Master Kit Fisto, who had looked at you with disbelief before the elevator doors were shut and your view was blocked from his expression.

Everyone you passed on the way to the hanger seemed to be completely distracted by you, and you knew why. They sensed it in you, the vengeance was radiating off of you like hot steam, filling the air with the mist and heat when you walked by them. It was frightening to them for sure, to see a young girl who was so optimistic become so enraptured with hatred for a single being.

You saw Anakin and Ahsoka in the distance, waiting on their ship to be fueled, and you approached them swiftly, non-hesitant. Your confidence could not be swayed, even if they cut it down with a lightsaber, you would quickly rebuild it, and keep moving.

"What are you doing here?" Anakin stopped you from going any further, placing himself in the way of the ship and not allowing you even an inch of access.

"I'm coming with you. You'll need my help," you insisted, and though he knew you were very capable of doing so, he was still worried that your emotion will cloud your judgement. "He was my master, Anakin."

"He was mine, too. I understand how you feel, and I'm not going to hold you back, but I need to know you're up for this," he crossed his arms, looking down on you and waiting for a sign of your readiness. You furrowed your brow and shook your head, stepping forward so that you were nearly nose to nose.

"I will not rest until I know the man responsible for Obi-Wan's death has been taken out."

He sighed. That wasn't exactly what he wanted to hear, but he knew better than to argue with you when you were angry, especially this new side of you.

"Let's go," he stepped aside, letting you up onto the ramp, following after you and Ahsoka when you walked up.

The first planet they had been tracked to was already set in the coordinates in the pilot's console, and with Ahsoka as copilot, you figured you would sit in the back, and be company to yourself.

The ride was long, and silent.

Sitting in the hull of the ship, you waited. You waited for them to come back and tell you where you would inevitably find the escaped bounty hunters. You held your saber in your right hand, sliding your thumb up and down over the crystal chamber. It was a subconscious movement, simple and fluid, but you had no idea the affects you were causing with it.

You were already filled with so much anger, so much hatred, you let it motivate you, you allowed it to consume your signature in its whole. You hated that it had this much control over you, the darkness, but it made you stronger, you could feel its power in your veins, every muscle felt energized by the dark force. It was pushing you towards the only new success you craved: vengeance.

You closed your eyes, meditating on this darkness for the first time since you let it overtake you. You absentmindedly kept your hand around your saber, clenching it tightly and using it as a tether.

You weren't sure how you felt, indulging in the darkness like this, to meditate on it in a way you'd been raised to avoid. The Jedi never told you how peaceful and quiet the darkness could be. They always mentioned it was made up of all the horrors you could not yet understand. Perhaps they were wrong.

For you, the dark side had worked almost seductively, luring you in with all it could offer, and empowering you to feel like you were untouchable. You did not even think that something like this could be bad.

You poured all your anger into your meditation, and let it fester, turning into raw power that you could later use to conquer your enemy, and make them-

"Kriff," You swore silently, dropping your saber to the ground for the way it began to burn your hand. It wasn't hot like fire, but the energy stung your skin, and you opened your eyes, letting them fall on where your weapon hit the ground of the ship.

You sensed that something was off, and when you picked it up, you felt it. You'd infused your weapon with your feelings, you may have damaged it from the inside. You ignited it, just as Anakin and Ahsoka were now coming back aboard the ship, and all at once you all witnessed what you had done to your lightsaber, your treasured weapon. This weapon is your life...

"What did you do?" Anakin asked in confusion, looking at the blade in disbelief.

The beautiful green glow that emanated from the hilt was only halfway there, as it collided with the dark red that took over its beauty, and made it into something new, something deeper, something more powerful.

"I don't know."

He looked once at his Padawan, nodding for her to go and start the ship. You were still gazing upon the new red and green glow of your saber, mesmerized by the duality it now possessed. It was quite lovely, and you'd never seen anything like it before.

"We have to talk about this," Anakin said gently as he walked over to you. "I know it's hard to resist the darkness, but you're making me concerned."

You deactivated the saber, clipping it back to your hilt and letting it fall by your side. You looked back at Anakin and saw your truest friend as confidant, the person you felt you could be honest with, and the only other person in this galaxy who might be feeling even a shred of your loss, your grief.

"I can't feel the light anymore... I'm trying, I promise," it wasn't a lie. You were struggling beyond measure to find even the slightest bit of connection to the light side of the force, but every time you thought of your master's teachings, the way he led you, guided you, it pushed you back to the start... but the dark side let you in, and it embraced you with open arms, like it had been waiting all this time.

"This isn't the Jedi way; this isn't what Obi-Wan would want for you."

"Obi-Wan didn't want for me to suffer like this, either," you said, a tear that threatened to spill over but was held back for the sake of your sanity. You couldn't stand to cry anymore, it just kept you in the same state of pain.

"Going against the order won't do us any favors... the council already looks down on us, anything we do is under their scrutiny."

He tried getting closer, but soon realized that was a bad idea.

"I'm going to be expelled," you let out, scoffing with furrowed brows. You were so confident that it would happen, because deep down, even before you lost Obi-Wan, you felt you weren't meant for the Jedi. You felt that they only accepted you because they had to.

"You won't be expelled. They might act like they hate you, but for Obi-Wan's sake they would still care enough to help you."

“No, they won't. All they have ever done is lie to me. To the both of us. For almost our whole lives, we have been told to follow a code. No emotion, but peace. No ignorance, but knowledge. No passion, but serenity. No chaos, but harmony. No death, but the Force,” you stepped forward to him, and though you were not trying to, your force caused the ship to rattle and vibrate beneath you, “But, anger is what brings me peace. The passion to want to hurt the person who killed him…is what brings me serenity.”

He couldn't believe what he was hearing, the strained look in your eyes to hold back tears, your clenched fists. It was all too much for Anakin to take. He was still battling the dark, but for you, the darkness had won. The only way you would be coming back to the temple with him would be if by some miracle, killing the bounty hunter gave you your clarity back.

"You will kill him, I promise."

And with that, he was back in the cockpit, leaving you to fume in the hull.

The chase was on, and as you spotted the hunters in the docking port to obtain fuel, you heart pounded deeply in your chest. You were hovered over Ahsoka's seat, watching everything going on and making sure you had the perfect view.

"I have eyes on Cad Bane," Ahsoka said, nodding to the entrance ramp on the ship in the dock.

"Are you sure that's him?"

You scoffed and nodded along with Ahsoka.

"Who else wears a hat like that?"

Anakin circled the station slowly, being careful not to attract any unwanted attention, or to give away to the hunter that you were, in fact, after them.

He waited until they were airborne, letting them gain some speed before he rammed your ship into theirs. You jolted forward, catching yourself between the seats as you stood back up into a straight position. You could see them react rather quickly, but they had nowhere to go. The ship they were in had half the speed and agility capabilities that yours had.

"Ahsoka, take over, we'll bring them down ourselves."

You smirked, discarding your cloak and shaking off your nerves. This was finally it; you were about to set in motion a series of events that would end in the death of Rako Hardeen. You hopped at the chance to jump out of the ship with Anakin, landing on the stabilizer panel by the wing.

Anakin tried to gain access through one of the side entry points, but was immediately met with a challenge, fending off Cad Bane. He was perfectly capable of taking him on, and probably ten other men if he needed to, so you left him in order to find your real target.

You climbed up in front of the cockpit, seeing Moralo Evol looked scared out of his wits. You scanned the area, and as soon as your eyes met with the man who killed Obi-Wan, you froze. Something didn't feel right, but that must have been the anxiety talking. Everything else, the hatred, the anger, the fire that was lit beneath you, it pushed you forward.

He looked at you with not a semblance of fear, but with confusion, and dismay. He made eye contact with you, and for whatever you reason, he looked distraught, like he was sad. It didn't make any sense, but you weren't going to let it bother you. In the end, he would die by your hand, and nothing could stop you, now.

You placed your hand on the glass, focusing the new dark energy within yourself, and using it to slowly crack the glass. The hunter you sought after wasn't scared of you now, but he would be. You'd make sure of it.

You detached your lightsaber from your belt, holding it out to your side and activating it, never breaking eye contact with the man you called your target. You wouldn't be letting him out of your sight. His mouth gaped open and having seen the half-bleeding blade of your saber, he now held deep fear in his eyes.

The glass was almost shattered, with only a few lines left to connect with each other, and Rako knew he had to act fast. He shifted the steering on the ship, lifting it into a climb momentarily, causing the ship that Ahsoka flew above it to collide with the top, and send both transports spiraling into the ground. You were thrown from the vessel, along with Anakin and the other hunter, Bane.

You stood to your feet after coughing up a small amount of dust that you'd inhaled, and then you dusted yourself off, force pulling your saber to your hand as it had landed a bit further from you.

You activated it, stepping through the cloud of fog that surrounded you, and finding the man you were here for. He had gotten off the ship, for what reason you were unsure, but it didn't matter. He was making it easier for you.

You saw Anakin step closer to him on the other side of the fog, surrounding him from leaving in any direction.

"You're going to pay for what you've done," Anakin engaged him in hand-to-hand combat, throwing him into a pit, which you quickly jumped into.

Anakin was kicked back into a corner, so you took your chance, pushing Hardeen into the rocky wall that had formed around the hole in the ground.

"You shouldn't have gotten involved," Rako sounded, for lack of a better word, exasperated, like he took no joy in fighting you both. He had no problem in killing your master, so what was any different now, with the both of you?

You took a hit to the shoulder from Cad Bane, who was fast approaching on your left. You deflected his next shots with your saber, and struck forward, taking out one of his boot thrusters. He was grounded for now, and you needed to focus on the target.

Anakin was now tangled up in a bash with Bane, so you fixed your saber on Hardeen, slowly walking towards him as he struggled to stand to his feet.

"You took everything from me," and then you were right in front of him. He looked at you with eyes of pity, and it bothered you to no end. You were about to bring this man's life to a pathetic halt, and he was the one looking onto you as if you deserved to be pitied. You hated him, hated the very ground he stood on.

You raised your saber, only for it to stop in the air, along with your arm. Why can't I move?

Rako tackled you into the ground, deactivating your saber, and pinning you beneath him, arms on either side of your head. He straddled your hips and put nearly all his weight to keep you immobile, before he leaned down and whispered in your ear.

"I can't hurt you... Stay down, little one."

You froze, a gasp leaving your throat and your eyes widening in shock.

"Obi..." you trailed off, complete disbelief washing over you. You felt a warm, comforting presence embrace you, before his hands at the side of your head faded you into unconsciousness.

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