#THE CLIFFHANGER OF THIS CHAPTER WAS SO EVIL | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

millersfinest · 1 month ago

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untethered⁶ | e.w

00s!ellie williams & 00s!miller!reader

wc: 8.9k

series: chapter one, chapter two, chapter three (you’re here!), chapter four , chapter five , chapter six (you’re here)

blurb: it’s been awhile since you’ve been back home; in upstate new york where you’ve spent most of your life waking up early and tending to the animals that moo’d and meh’d. after graduation high school, and then college, the city life has stolen most of your attention. enabling you to visit only a handful of times through the years. when your lovely adoptive parents (tommy and maria miller) invite you back for a thanksgiving dinner—a troubled old flame from your childhood manages to get your attention, despite its explosive ending.

cw: lmao flip phones, r and ellie might have beat the cheating allegations, more use of y/n then i would prefer, she/her pronouns, some vulgar language, jealous!ellie (kind of), the millers, r is a writer (she doesn’t write much in this ch wink wink), ellie being insecure a bit, tommy and joel being brothers, r being a little self-deprecating, elements of longing, ellie is #1 lesbian yearner in the world, jealous ellie, some early 2000s references, thanksgiving, abby is a plot device lmao, hella angst, rich!abby (one of r’s evil exes), repressed emotions, a flirty/horny cliffhanger-ish.

note: thank you guys for flooding my inbox w untethered ch 6 demands…. i hear you, i see you, i understand you… AND HERE’S THAT CHAPTER!!! im sorry for making you guys wait so long. it wasn’t easy writing this chapter, and i still feel like it sucks, but i hate keeping you guys waiting. like i genuinely feel bad 😞. theres like one paragraph that i love in here and thats's it... but as always, i hope you guys enjoy this chapter… next chapter (and final chapter) should be even more angsty, and hopefully, sexy. bisouu my loves <3 (if something doesn't make sense... yes it does)

The smell of broiling honey ham filled your nostrils. Humored voices of your father and Joel echoed from the outside as they grilled their sirloins over burning charcoal. You set the counters with the food that was already cooked and ready to eat, leaving them out like it were a buffet. The warm desserts were placed after the savory vegetables plated on some of your mother’s finest china. You and Maria waited for the ham, as it was the last thing to be ready—she wanted it to be fresh.

During this time, you changed into your evening clothes, which was none other than a pair of overall shorts, a white frilly crop top, and your cowboy boots. Clean ones, of course.

You haven’t seen or heard from Ellie since your little squabble. Joel had come in with a nicely cooked pie in his hands, without her, claiming that she had to make a quick run. Then, you noticed Cat was gone, too. Perhaps, there was some correlation there. You didn’t want to pester because of how tender everything was after your confession. That didn’t mean you weren’t curious, though. While you felt an immense pressure lifted from your shoulders, there was an underlying level of an unnerving feeling.

Old habits die hard, they say. And you find that to be true.

“So’s… your friend still comin’, honey?” Maria checks for the crispy brown on the shell of the ham in the oven. “Or is that called off since your realization…”

In the midst of sorting out your mother’s finest plates, you paused. “Shit,” You cursed, clenching a fist and shutting your eyes, tightly. Abby was still coming over for dinner—you completely forgot all about that! Fuck. You looked at the time on the oven, squinting your eyes. 5:57. “Is it too late to cancel on her?” You muttered, peering at your mother.

“What time did you tell her to be here by?”

“6-ish…”

Maria took in a deep breath, glancing up at her ceiling. “To be frank, Bug,” She inhaled through her teeth. “At some point you gotta throw in the asshole towel—“

There was a knock on the door. You cringed, gritting your teeth. “Please, can you answer it?” You beg, furrowing your eyebrows.

“No.” She deadpans.

“Well, I can’t… Because— because I have to go help dad and Joel with the steak.” You pressed your lips into a line, preparing to walk out to the back porch. You didn’t know if the culprit of the door knocking was Abby, but all the odds were pointing to her. If it were Ellie, she wouldn’t have knocked. And, if it were Cat, she’d be behind Ellie.

Before you could get far, she tugged on the back of your overalls, pulling you to a stop. “Answer the damn door.” Maria commanded, flashing her stern, bright eyes at you.

You pouted, stomping your foot. Nervousness arose in your chest, tightening and constricting. With a sigh, you approached the front door. When you pulled it open, the sight of a tall, muscular blonde grinning at you—caused a knowing smile creep onto your face. “Abby,” You sighed her name, taking in a deep inhale, leaning on the door.

A bottle of wine was held in her hands. “I hope I’m not too early.” She chuckled with a hint of nervousness. It was sweet.

“No… Not at all.” You ran your tongue over your lips, awkwardly reaching to hug her. You slid your arm around her waist, instead of her neck like usual—pressing your sides together, platonically. As if she were an acquaintance. Don’t think she didn’t take notice to that. “Come on in.” Gently, you take the bottle from her hands, peering at the label. It was a red wine, Pinot Noir, not your favorite.

You shut the door behind her, sighing once it clicked with your hands braced against the cool wood. Like that could cure the queasiness building in your stomach. With dragging legs, you walked her to the kitchen. Where your mother feigned unawareness. “Maria, this is my friend, Abby.” You introduced her without focus, setting the bottle on the kitchen counter behind the desserts. The use of your mother’s name was you trying to quip at her for making you answer the door.

She tucked her long, golden hair behind her ears, reaching a hand out to shake mother’s hand. “It’s a pleasure to put a name to a face.” Maria spoke, firmly taking hers. “How did you meet my daughter?” She followed up, quickly.

You rolled your eyes, scoffing under your breath. That was question was irrelevant to ask. She was asking her with the tone of a protective parent, but Abby was only ever going to be a friend—especially, after the last few days.

“We met at a fundraising event last year. My dad, he was a top bidder, and her agent, Isa, was a very persistent businesswoman.” Abby chortled, charmingly. She always managed to slip her financial status within her conversation—she was good at it. In that statement alone, she announced to your mother just how much she knew you. Enough to know the name of your agent, enunciating Isa’s name in a way to exploit your closeness—because how would she know how grueling that woman was at times? As well as letting her know that she could support you in ways others probably couldn’t.

My dad, he was a top bidder.

What the fuck did that matter? Her presence alone was getting under your skin; more than it ever had. And you weren’t sure if it was her fault, or your own.

You yearned for the girl who claimed to love you earlier in the day. That’s you’re fuckin’ problem. Always wanting to be perfect— but you’re not! Not even close. And I fucking love you for it. You could hear her raspy voice crowding over Abby’s friendly words. How Ellie achieved simultaneously calling you out, while passionately confessing her love for you—again—seamlessly… You’ll never know.

“Abby,” You spoke up. “Why don’t you help set the table? I’m gonna go check on the steaks… Maybe, after, I can give you a quick tour before dinner.” The only way to survive that was to push through—make her feel at home, try not to be weird.

“Sounds great!” She rubbed her hands together, excitedly. You hand her the delicate plates, giving a smile that barely met your eyes.

On the way toward the porch, you make eye contact with your mother. Curt. Stern. Irritated. Maria didn’t care to give a reaction—you must lie in the bed you made. Even though, you didn’t intend to forget to call things off with Abby. It’s been a very busy, dramatic two days.

Slipping through the back door, you look for the comfort of your father’s eyes. “Bug! Come taste this!” Tommy clamped his tongs, motioning to his tray of steak.

“I think you should taste mine first—“

“No! She’s my daughter— she’s tastin’ mine first.”

You waved a dismissive hand, chuckling under pouty lips. “I’ll taste both, but… I have to ask you somethin’ first, Joel.” Your face fell into a serious expression.

His brown eyes twitched, amused features melting from his aged face. “Yeah…”

“Ellie’s coming back, right?” Your fingers intertwined with themselves, while you chewed on the soft skin inside of your mouth. “The secrets out now, so… She can come back.” You shrugged, childishly. “And dinner’s gonna be ready any minute now— mom’s only gonna hold off for so long. She likes her ham hot.” Words flooded from your glossy lip, followed by a timid gulp.

“What made you think she wouldn’t come back, sweetheart?”

“It’s not like you explained where she went, Joel.” You deadpanned. “I was left to my own devices— as in, my own dysfunctional brain. You know what happens when I do that.”

He pursed his lips, fighting the grin he wanted to share. Joel glanced at his brother, huffing. “You didn’t ask, either, Bug.”

You paused, crossing your arms. “Did you ever consider that I didn’t want to? If you haven’t noticed— which I know that you have— she’s pissed at me.”

Joel inhaled, cutting off a piece of his steak for you. “I’m not pissed at you, though.” He hands it over to you on a fork, and you take it mindlessly. You weren’t known for having anger issues, but it seemed as if Joel was testing you.

“Joel, can you stop being a dick and tell me where she is?” You whined, childishly, before putting the square piece of meat into your mouth, chewing with identifying eyebrows. You looked up at the darkening sky, humming. His piece blossomed with flavor. It was a little tough, but you didn’t mind it because of how flavorful it was. “This is… Great. A little tough—” The voice of your father cut you off, mid-thought. Joel shrugged, nudging Tommy’s shoulder, teasingly.

Tommy scoffed, cutting a piece for you. “He manipulated you into trying his steak first— here’s mine.” He gasped, leaning the fork your way.

With a shrug, you took the fork, pulling the meat from the prongs with your front teeth. You hummed, again, peering at your father with wide eyes. Tommy’s was more tender, with a softer, pinker inside between the char. “Okay…” You roll your tongue in your mouth. “Whichever one of you tells me where Ellie is first, wins.”

“Honey, that’s not fair—“

“She’s dropping off Cat at the train station. I suggested they break up, and I’m sure they did— Ellie should be on her way back by now.”

A mischievous grin coursed over your features that were being bitten by the crisp, autumn air. “Silly, silly, Joel.” You shook your head. “You win on flavor… Dad, you win on texture— meaning overall, my favorite is yours. Congratulations.” You pat your fathers’ shoulder, pressing your lips into a tight smile.

You pivoted on your feet, chewing on the inside of your lips in thought. Ellie was dropping Cat off at the train station—you wondered what brought her from the ledge of revenge to return home on Thanksgiving. Unfortunately, you didn’t get the chance to apologize to her for your thoughtless behavior. But… Partially, you were relieved that you didn’t have to face her. However, there was a pull in your gut that you had to apologize regardless of her absence.

It was a tug of war with your morals and ego.

Basically, you snatched the screen door open, huffing and getting the attention of the chatty blonde and your mother. She was chewing on a piece of ham, moaning in delight. “Mrs. Miller, I hope you don’t mind if I have more than one serving later…”

“There’s plenty of ham to go around, hon.” She waved a hand, the ends of her lips curling.

Your eyebrows jut together, but you covered that small change of expression with a tight smile. “You ready for that tour, Abs?” You snapped your fingers. It was an awkward and very rare movement from you, but it was barely noticed. Not by Abby, at least.

She wiped her lips with a napkin, dusting her hands on her tight jeans. “If you don’t mind?” Abby politely spoke to your mother, and for a moment, it didn’t bother you. A few months ago, these little moments were what you wished for. You envisioned her eating your mom’s cooking with a smile, conversing with her in your childhood home—but she didn’t want that. It was bitterly humorous how much of a natural she was in the scope of things.

Maria nodded, giving you an off glance, and jutting her blonde eyebrows upwards. You took her hand, dragging her out the front door, shoving through the screen door. Once you were out in the brisk, autumn air, you slid your hand from hers—crossing your arms over your chest like a shield of some sort.

“I thought your bedroom would be the first stop…” Abby chortled to herself, glancing down at you. However, you barely reacted. Perhaps, she was joking or jesting—trying to make you laugh.

Internally, you cringed. “My bedroom is the least fascinating thing here.” You narrowed your eyes at her, leading the woman down the porch. “So, what interests you the most? Horses? Goats? Cows?” You perk an eyebrow, peering up at her. Eyes switching between her semi-awkward stature and the background of the front of the house. You yearned for the dull high beams of Ellie’s truck.

“Horses are cool…” She nodded, surveying your features, trying to determine your thoughts. Abby has never been so focused on you, and frankly, it made you feel weird. A part of you wanted to relish in the fact that she was giving you the energy you had been wanting from her all along. But the wound that was severed by the touch and attention of your past lover—nothing could compare! It would be greedy for you to welcome this modified version of Abby Anderson. Deep down, if it came down to it, you’d choose Ellie over Abby; no questions asked.

“My dad, he has a soft spot for animals… The last time I saw a horse I was, like, fifteen.” Abby continued, while you led her toward the horse barn. “He took me to some ranch for my birthday.”

You hummed, raising an eyebrow. “It wasn’t this one, right?” A chuckle fell from your lips, stuffing your hands into the pockets of your overalls.

Abby guffawed, pushing a straying piece of her hair behind her ears. “No, it wasn’t this one. The ranch I went to, their horses were very easily frightened—which was odd because their whole shtick was horse-riding.” She deepened her eyebrows at the memory, shrugging her shoulders. “I almost fell off one of ‘em.”

“Geez, Abs.” You puffed air from your lips. “Well, my parents have always spent lots of time training these horses— so, you have nothing to be worried about.” Your fingers grazed the material of her shirt on her arm, pressing your lips into a smile. “The only one that isn’t formally trained is Sarah, but she’s only a few weeks old. And to be honest, she takes to new people very well.” As you approached the barn, a few of them still grazed around. It was Shimmer and Sarah out along the fence, and Hamlet sort of just watching them.

“Alright, I’ll have to trust you.” She pursed her lips.

“I’d never lead you into the fire, Abby…”

You opened the gate, walking into the enclosure of the barn. Abby appeared apprehensive about walking into their space. Her previous experience with a horse must’ve truly affected her. Warmly, you held out a hand for her—giving her the option to take it. You wiggled your fingers, sporting a slightly teasing smile. Abby took your hand, firmly, holding onto your hand as if she never wanted to let go. Spark.

Her fear was endearing; it was like seeing her in a different light. How confusing.

“Over there, that’s Shimmer and her baby Sarah. They’re both the most affectionate. Sarah takes after her mother in that way. And lingering off to the side… That’s Hamlet—he’s a bit of a loner. He likes to walk around and keep an eye on everyone.”

“Like a protector?”

“Yeah, somethin’ like that.” You nod, still holding onto her coarse hand. “I could introduce you to Shimmer? Like I said, she’s super sweet— I’m sure she’ll adore you.” You wanted to give her the option because that was just the type of person that you were. Despite your flip-floppy relationship, in a sense, you allowed her admittance of a small fear to soften your heart to her. The tethering of your hands, the feeling of leading her—controlling her, guiding her—it gave you a sense of comfort. It was a connection that you were waiting for. However, still, it didn’t feel the same compared to the auburn-haired artist. Now, that there was a chance to compare.

Her palms were too coarse, more focused on her inner knuckles, remnants of her history with heavy lifting. While Ellie’s exposed her love of physical art, music, drawing, painting. The callouses relied on her fingertips rather than her palms—and for some reason, that mattered more to you.

With her hand in yours, you lead her toward Shimmer, cooing as you approached her. You muttered sweet words to the much shorter horse, Sarah, before guiding her hand to touch Shimmer. You palm over the back of her hand to reassure that Abby was safe—that she wasn’t going to hurt her.

You weren’t leading her into the fire.

Her soft, blue eyes gleamed at you, but it was hard to notice at first as you were focused on Shimmer. Your other hand scratched at the side of her neck, burrowing your nails under her coarse fur. A nervous tick; an attempt at ignoring the harsh gaze of the blonde next to you. Abby’s dilated irises penetrated the side of your face with the weight of a glare. You swallowed a lump in your throat, averting your eyes from Shimmer’s copper fur toward her enamored features.

There wasn’t much time for you to take in her look of yearning before she enveloped you into her arms, attaching her lips to yours. She shared her warmth with her firm arms cradling your bare ones, and it did, in fact, warm you up. But it wasn’t warm. Although, your arms automatically wrapped around her shoulders—fingers imbedding into her fine, blonde hair—you allowed her touch to consume you. Her desperate touch. Her lips plead against yours, pleading for you to dive into her as she wanted you to. As you used to with fervor. Abby noticed your lack of enthusiasm, or more so attempt to replicate your past enthusiasm. She prided herself on her intelligence, meaning that she knew something had changed between the two of you. Either you gained more self-respect for yourself, or there was someone else.

Someone who touched you better than she did. Someone who had the time to love you how you wanted to be loved.

Off in the dark, a truck pulled onto the graveled driveway of the younger Millers’ home. When she put the car in park, leaned her head against the stirring wheel, releasing a groan of relief. The trip to the train station was long, and initially silent. Until Cat became livid enough to make Ellie pull over for an hour. She was sobbing, screaming, unleashing her pent-up anger on the artist—and deservingly so; Ellie knew that much. Debatably, it was one of her best fuckups because it brought you back to her.

It all began with the tempting of a fruit. The garden of Eden—your quivering lips in a filthy, bar bathroom. Historians call that the fall of man, however, ever since she succumbed to you, she’s felt higher than she ever has. A burning joint was nothing compared to you.

Ellie’s poor decision making was worth Cat’s wrath if it brought her back to you.

But there was a lingering pressure that haunted her mind like a juvenile insecurity. A two-syllable word that was a poltergeist in her mind—fickle. Was the reigniting of a fire, the fire that Ellie sparked, received for the sake of receiving. Maybe, you didn’t love her like you claimed—but that didn’t make sense. Not for you!

The disorganized artist worried and worried and worried. When her dull high beams reflected off the white, farmhouse ahead of her; her nerves only increased. There was this need to prove herself to you that she couldn’t shake.

After gathering courage, she hopped out of her truck, slamming the door to release the energy that harbored at the pit of her belly. Ellie shoved the key into the driver’s door, locking all of the doors with a huff. Her toes pivoted, hands sliding into her front pockets as she approached the house—mentally readying herself to see your face again. The last time the two of you spoke, she proclaimed her love for you despite your blundering imperfections. Ellie was sure that you didn’t take well to that; she needed to explain!

Her beat-up converse crunched over the gravel; she could feel every pebble under her deteriorating sole. In the dark, her earthy eyes squinted in the direction of the barn—to get a look at the grazing horses she spent time with earlier. Ellie wanted to check up on them from the distance in which she walked. However, she was met with a sight that burned her from the inside out.

It was you wrapped in the arms of the same woman from the bar. Tall in her stature, in a black shirt that hugged her protruding muscles perfectly. Long, glimmering, golden hair that your fingers punctured. To feel a combination of emotions was an understatement.

Her fingers tingled up her slender arms, lips arching in disgust. “What the fuck is happening…?” Ellie muttered with grit, starting to stalk toward the house, scoffing under her breath. But, before she reached the stairs to the porch, she turned on her feet again. Consumed with frustration, she began to lead herself toward the horse barn with stiff shoulders and balled-up fists.

Ellie appeared on the opposite side of the fence than you and Abby with a look in her eye that could be confused for estrangement. While you were already breaking apart, placing your hand on Abby’s firm chest, unable to meet her eyes—afraid to expose your apprehension. The artist’s appearance caused you to nearly jump out of your boots. You jumped a few inches from the taller blonde woman, placing your fingers over your glistening lips, ruminating with regret.

“I’m afraid we haven’t gotten the chance to meet— I’m Ellie.” Her raspy voice was taut, and too formal. It was barely the voice that you were used to. She failed to offer a physical greeting, like offering her hand; she just kept her hands had her sides.

You hid your face in your hands, cursing to yourself. Fuck. Fuck. Abby lips parted, awkwardly. “Uhm, Abby Anderson… I’ve heard a lot about you.” Her slender eyebrows jutted upwards, and she held out her hand, but wasn’t met with warmth. It was true that she knew about Ellie—the past version of her, at least. She’d heard the story of her poking and prodding at you in your youth, but even with that, you never spoke ill of her. By the time you met Abby, there was a level of accountability taken over the situation that didn’t exist years before.

She was nothing more than a story about your first love.

Ellie glanced at you, bitterly. “Yeah, I’m sure you have…” She ran her earthy eyes up Abby’s tall, muscular figure with a frown.

“Ellie—” Her voice cut you off before you could speak, causing you to look off to the side in contempt.

“Dinner’s ready, right? We should probably head inside… Wouldn’t wanna leave Maria waiting.” The auburn-haired woman stalked off before either you or Abby had the chance to react. You sighed, barely sparing the blonde a glance before following behind her. A frown pressed deeply onto your lips, mind racing behind your shifting, watering eyes. Abby muttered a ‘what the hell’ under her breath, smacking her hands against her thighs. But you didn’t say anything, just gnawed on the inside of your lip, anxiously. The tables turned too fast for your liking.

The auburn-haired artist didn’t care to hold the screen door open for you and your guest, quickly entering the house. Tommy and Joel were inside sorting the steaks out in a singular disposable tin pan. They looked up simultaneously, like brothers, at the sight before them. Joel squinted at the sight of a fuming Ellie, or the sight of her trying to hide her frustration and anger. And Tommy looked to you with a similar look, and a simple jut of his eyebrows at the blonde woman behind you.

“Steak! I’m fucking starving.” You heard Ellie mutter, walking to the counter after taking a plate from the dining table.

A sigh left your lips while your father handed you an empty plate, but you passed it over to Abby—still, not sparing her a glance. Then, he handed you another one. The blonde man leans down, speaking in your ear while your mother tried to break the awkwardness of Abby’s presence. “Something happened?” He muttered, putting food on his plate.

“Mhm…” You glanced at him with wide, weary eyes.

Somehow, everyone found themselves sat at the dining table: you between Abby and your mother, and Ellie between Tommy and Joel—you were looking straight at each other. You pleaded with your eyes for her not to react; that you could explain if you were given the chance. But that was too much to say with only a pointed gaze.

“So, Abby, what do you do?” She asked the blonde beside you, cutting her steak, forcefully.

“I’m a surgeon— an intern at Bellevue Hospital.” She nodded, forking the vegetables on her plate.

“Oh, that’s wonderful.” Tommy nodded, he glanced at her. His comment made Ellie’s eye twitch, subtly. “I have a friend who works in the medical field— have you figured out your specialty yet, or…”

Abby hummed, sipping water from a shiny glass cup, looking over the rim to meet your father’s eyes. “Not quite. My dad’s a general surgeon, so that interested me the most— but the more I work with surgeons under different specialties, the more I find myself interested in other things.” She swallowed, blinking. “Like, now, I’m considering orthopedic surgery.”

“That’s the one with the bones, right?” Joel questioned, partly chewing on his food.

“Yes, sir. That’s the one.” She chuckled, leaning her forearms on the table.

You watched Ellie take a gulp of her beer before speaking once more. “So, if you’re a surgeon… And y/n’s a writer— how’d the two of you meet?”

Maria smiled, glancing at her husband. “Well, Ellie, they met through her agent, Isa. At an event— what was it? A gala?”

“A fundraiser.” Finally, you spoke up to correct, holding up a finger that proclaimed your usual know-it-all behavior. Then, you reached for your wine glass, taking large gulps to down the substance—hoping it’d ease your uneven temper. You noticed that your lover, the auburn-haired one, had played the word fundraiser on her tongue. Under her breath, she talked to herself as if she was mocking the way you said the word.

The muscular blonde beside you cleared her throat, leveling her bright eyes onto the woman in front of you. “What do you do, Ellie?” Abby wondered with a barely noticeable sneer, but you caught it.

From the corner of your eye, you peered at her, stiffening your frame.

Her round, olive eyes glared at her—a glare that nobody at that table could miss. Everyone but Abby knew Ellie through and through; her anger couldn’t be hidden. In fact, she was the last person at that table who could ever hide her anger. “I’m an artist.” She curtly responded.

“So, you draw?”

“And she paints.” You fill in, turning your head in the direction of your guest. Her inquiry seemed backhanded—passive aggressive—and that struck a nerve. As if drawing was insignificant. “She’s really good at it.” Your eyes meet hers and for a moment her harsh, green eyes softened.

“Have I seen any of your work anywhere?”

“You don’t seem like a coffee shop person, so I doubt it.” Ellie grimaced, rolling her eyes. “I’m getting another drink.” Abruptly, she stood out of her chair, to walk into the kitchen that was hidden behind a wall and corner. The wooden legs screeching against the floor, causing you to cringe.

Abby shrugged, peering at you with a slight curl to her lips. “I love coffee.”

You scoffed, shutting your eyes. Without saying a word, you stood to your feet to follow her into the kitchen. Before you slipped away, you managed to slide your fingers along your guests’ shoulders as a way of reassurance—mainly so she wouldn’t get the urge to follow you.

When you entered the kitchen, Ellie was found with her hands braced on the counter and her head hanging low. The heels of your cowboy boots clicking against kitchen floor, slowly. Apprehensively. Nervously. You played with your fingertips, puffing air from your lips. “Ellie…”

“What the fuck was that?” Her eyes met yours, stressed and irritated with striking red veins.

You shrugged, pressing your lips into a line. “I was sticking up for you—“

“That’s not what I’m talkin’ about and you know that…” She scorned, barely even blinking her eyes. They bored into you in a way that almost petrified your frame.

You swallowed, casting your eyes up to the ceiling, guiltily. “It just happened.”

“It just happened?” She perked a scarred eyebrow, chortling, dryly. “It just fucking happened— I bet you could say the same for what happened between us, too, huh?” Ellie turned her body toward you, keeping her other hand leaning on the counter. Her voice was level, trying to keep the conversation down so other wouldn’t hear it—because even when she was angry, she still felt the need to shield you. Or more so, keep your relationship problems undercover. “Tell me, y/n… Am I fucking idiot? You made this big fuss about me breaking up with Cat, and the second I do, I see you eating Abby’s fucking face!”

“I wasn’t eating her face…”

“Semantics!”

“It was out of nowhere— I didn’t ask her to kiss me, Ellie!” You tried with a deep furrow in your brow, lips quivering. “It’s just… It’s just we have history—“

She laughed, bitterly.

“We have history and she’s stuck in a cycle I haven’t had the chance to break.”

Ellie squinted her eyes at you. “What the hell does that even mean?” Voice pulled taut, stepping closer to you. “You said that if I got rid of Cat, you’d get rid of Abby.”

“I forgot she was coming! Did you forget the day we had?!” The space between you was closing in the heat of frustration. “We didn’t exactly end on good terms earlier— excuse me for letting something as minuscule as Abby attending dinner to slip my mind.” You rambled with a secretive voice. “I had a very eventful day—“

“And you think I didn’t?”

You groaned under your breath, bunching your hands into fists at your sides. “I never said you didn’t… I just said that I did. There’s a lot on my mind.” A sigh fled your lips, fingers pinching the bridge of your nose. “You know, I told my parents about us— right after our argument, because I couldn’t let them hear it from you or Cat.” Your voice softened, peering into her dilated eyes. Your trembling fingers tethered to the cotton that covered her arm, sliding down, attempting to reach for her hand. “I made peace with what we did… Because I wanna be with you, Els.” The choice to quote her own words wasn’t intentional, it was your truth.

When she had scolded you in your own bedroom, it wasn’t a great feeling, but she wasn’t wrong. You needed to stop wanting to be perfect all the time—nobody makes the best decisions every chance they get. Sometimes people fuckup and that’s okay.

The image of you searching her eyes made her heart melt. She wanted to fall into you—to kiss you, and say everything was fine… Even if it wasn’t. Ellie felt your hand creeping into hers. Your soft fingertips tapping her stiff palm. She found herself proud of you for admitting your faults to your parents—it was your greatest fear, but you did it anyway. Perhaps, you have changed or you were learning to. However, the looming presence of that buff surgeon irritated her.

Jealousy was a raging bitch.

And, speaking of… There she came, strutting into the kitchen with a look of concern. “Hey, is everything alright?” Her deep blue eyes only looked at you, gaging your stability—she couldn’t care less for Ellie’s.

Ellie swiped her hand from yours, running that same hand through her hair. “Yeah, everything’s fine.” She reached into the fridge, snatching a glass bottle of beer from the door. Just as quick as she did that, she fled the scene. Not sparing you a glance.

Eerily, your hand felt cold. You pouted, watching her leave, scratching your eyebrow. Abby uttered your name, sliding her hand around your waist. Your body tensed under her touch—it wasn’t what you yearned for. “Everything’s fine, Abby.” You breathed, gently touching the hand on your waist, removing it. However, you hid your form of rejection by turning to her, plastering a fake smile on your face.

“Joel started playing his guitar… Didn’t want you to miss it.”

“Nothing I haven’t seen before— but I don’t want you to miss it, so…” You take in a deep inhale, averting your eyes. “I’ll meet you in there. I need a minute.”

Abby appeared taken aback and confused. You weren’t acting like the person she thought that she knew. And to be fair, it all started at the Tipsy Bison. “What’s going on— is something wrong—?”

“I just need a minute, alright?” You stressed, pinching your features. Almost snapping at her, but not quite. Still, your tone unnerved the blonde. She twitched, backing up from you with dejected shoulders. Abby scoffed under her breath, leaving you to pace in the kitchen alone—just like you wanted.

Because of your sudden stance at the dinner table, standing up to trot after Ellie, you forgot your empty wine glass. Instead of ducking toward the table to grab it, you just grabbed a clean glass from the cabinet. You poured a full glass of the Pinot Grigio that Ellie and Tommy had brought—nearly filling it to the brim. God, you needed a cigarette. The nicotine could hold you and console you better than a full bottle of wine. Better than the large, calloused hands of Abigail Anderson. But, better than the nimble, lightly calloused hands of Ellie Williams? Her arms? The whisps of her bluntly cut hair tickling your skin—no. Nothing was better than that… Than her.

The melodic sounds of Joel’s guitar filled your ears, and the impressed chuckles of his brother—your father. You missed hearing him play. His pleasant strum eased the spirits slipping down your throat. Then, you heard another tune, and it pulled you from the confines of the kitchen.

Your fingers held the bulbous part of the glass, resting your elbow over your arm. You moved as if you were being drawn spiritually to the living room, appearing behind Abby.

Ellie had propped herself on a stool in front of the television, with her own guitar, the one that had an inscription of your initials on the neck. It couldn’t be seen from the position you stood, but the feeling of knowing it was still there made your heart lurch.

Your parents sat on the couch, and Joel had been on a loveseat toward the side, fiddling with his own guitar. Nervously, Ellie plucked the copper strings of her guitar, attempting to quickly tune it. Her freckled cheeks were warm and a light shade of pink.

Her earthy eyes looked up at your sudden appearance and you smiled behind your full glass of wine, shyly. The corners of her plush lips curled in a subtle way that your guest would miss it—or at least you hoped that she did. Or… Maybe you didn’t. You’ve proven to be a shameless person over the past few days.

When she began to strum the guitar, she played the tune of a song that was familiar to you—Keane—Somewhere Only We Know. It was one of the songs featured on her MySpace account, in her bio. One of the first things a lurker would notice after seeing her fandom username.

Her soft, timid voice rose from her throat, singing the beginning of the song. You sipped at your white wine, lowering the glass so she could see the smile unable to fall from your lips. There was a rasp to her voice that exposed her skills to be an effect of her hobby-ing. Ellie sung not because she was good at it, but because she wanted to—it gave her comfort. And, perhaps, that’s what she needed.

“So, tell me when you’re gonna let me in… I’m getting tired, and I need somewhere to begin.”

Your epidermis burned, cheeks heating up as if it were w furnace being heated by charring charcoal. Let me in. It was selfish for you to apply yourself to the words she spoke that was written by another person. But you needed to let her in! Irrevocably.

However, for you to do that… You needed to let Abby out.

You reached up for her shoulder, tugging her closer to your level, so you could whisper in her ear. “Meet me in my bedroom in five minutes— upstairs.” Your lips moved close to the shell of her ear, fingers tapping along her strong shoulder. She didn’t know where your bedroom was, but you were certain she’d find it.

Maria side-eyed you as you slipped away with slumping shoulders. Ellie noticed your departure, stammering on the lyrics she was singing, but she kept going, dejectedly.

The navigation from the living room to your bedroom helped you realize the sum of what you drank. You stumbled on your way up the stairs, holding onto the railing, shutting your eyes and shaking your head to gather yourself.

When you entered your bedroom, you set the glass on your bedside table, meandering to your reading nook. You had swiped the pack of cigarettes from your dresser, opening up the window and lighting up to calm your wired nerves.

The cool breeze wafted into your bedroom, sending a chill down your spine. Between your index and middle finger was your burning stick of nicotine and tobacco. Remnants stuck to your clothes before slipping out the flushing window.

You practiced how you were going to break it off with her. Direct or indirect—which one was best?

Abby, we need to talk…

Abby, I have something to tell you—

“There you are…” The blonde woman peeked into your bedroom before walking inside. She shut the door behind her, and you frowned out your window. “Your room’s pinker than I thought I’d be.” Abby chortled, preparing to join you on the nook, but you spoke before she could.

“We can’t see each other anymore…” You puffed smoke from your lips, eyeing her from the corner of your eye.

She bunched her eyebrows together, lips parting. “What—?”

“And don’t act like we weren’t seeing each other, because we very much were.”

Her hands hit her thighs. “I wasn’t going to.” A deep sigh came from her mouth, fingers reaching up to pinch the bridge of her nose. “Fuck, I should’ve seen this coming.” Abby muttered, shaking her head.

You tapped your thumb around the mouthpiece of your cigarette to get rid of the ashes. “I should’ve never invited you here. I knew better, but—“ The corner of your mouth lifted and you laughed. “I wanted to be an asshole. You don’t deserve that, though. Even if you led me on for a few months.”

“Is that what all this is about? What happened with us?” She ran her hand through her hair, cheeks reddening. “y/n, I wasn’t thinking and…”

“It doesn’t matter, Abby.” You looked at her, intently. “I need someone who makes time for me— even in the oddest of situations, and that’s not you.” You tried to keep your business to yourself. The relationship that was blooming between you and an old flame; it was sacred. And, she didn’t need to know that you were taking on homewrecking as a hobby.

She scoffed, averting her eyes from you. “What did you think me driving down here was, then? Skipping out on my friends to come to a place you didn’t even want me to be—“

“I didn’t ask you to skip out on your friends—“

“Well, I did anyway!”

A beat passed between the both of you.

The blonde woman frowned. “For you, because I wanted to make up for…” Her voice trailed off, eyes welling up with tears. “It was all for nothing, clearly.”

Earlier, you had made promise that you wouldn’t lead her into fire. Yet, that’s exactly what you did. “Abby, I still appreciate you coming and being so helpful and kind to my family but… To be honest, it’s too late for me.”

Her hand wiped against her face, roughly. She trained her eyes on a spot in your room that was interesting enough to keep her emotional gaze—instead of looking you in the eye. “Do you think I’m stupid?”

You deepened your eyebrows. “Do I think you’re stupid—? “

“It’s Ellie, isn’t it?”

Your lips fell open, gaping like fish gasping for air. “You textbook lesbian…” Abby muttered to herself, chuckling, dryly.

“Abby!” You scolded, glaring up at her.

“What? It’s the truth. I never had a fucking chance to begin with.”

In a fit of frustration, you dabbed the end of your burning cigarette onto one of your pillows, burning through the material. “That’s not true!” You stood up, abruptly. “I gave you a chance months ago, and you fucking blew it!” You pointed an accusatory finger. “You’re career meant more to you—“

“Since when is that a bad thing—?”

“Fuckin’ other girls meant more to you!”

She gasped. “Oh, come on, you know that’s a reach…” Her eyes rolled, dismissively.

Stubbornly, you crossed your arms. “Do I?”

Abby scoffed, laughing, dryly. “Ever since I met you… I liked you— I was into you. I wanted you.” She confessed, tiredly. “My unavailability wasn’t some made up lie to pull a fast one. I was an overachieving, fourth-year med student who didn’t wanna risk too many distractions.” The woman explained, pausing for anxious breath. “Yeah, I know, I said some things that probably hurt your feelings—“

“Probably?” You perked an eyebrow.

She sighed. “Hurting your feelings was the only way I knew you wouldn’t expect anything of me more than what I was capable of— and, at the time, relationship-wise… I wasn’t capable of anything.” Her shoulders shrugged, weakly. As if she’s been keeping this to herself for some time.

Weirdly, you’re shoulders relaxed at her explanation. While you didn’t agree with her techniques to keep you at arms-length, you weren’t in the position to keep holding onto that frustration with her. You had other priorities. “I guess you’re right… I fucking blew it.”

Now, you sighed, averting your eyes around your room in thought. “You know, maybe, we were always meant to be friends?” You offered, rocking on your feet.

“You think I wanna be friends with you, right now?” Abby raised an eyebrow, looking at you from the side of her irritated eyes. But, there was a light smile on her lips, exposing that she wasn’t completely upset. Just disappointed that things didn’t work out as she’d hoped. “Seems like there’s something going on with you and that artist downstairs… That’s not something I wanna see— at least, not anytime soon, so…”

You rolled your eyes. “Well, whenever you have some free time on your hands, whenever you, you know, find someone else, or whatever… Maybe we could get some coffee— as friends.”

She genuinely chortled, cheeks blushing. “Yeah, whatever, Miller.” Abby jutted her thumb toward your door. “I’m gonna head out.”

You nodded, walking her to your bedroom door, following her out. “You want me to make you a plate, or anything?” That southern hospitality that was bred into you through your family could never be mistaken for being gone. Those years in the city hadn’t deteriorated you in that way. Even when you were breaking up with someone.

The woman pressed her lips into a line. “You know, what? Yeah, sure.”

“Good, because I was gon’ make you one anyway.” You nudged her side with your elbow, grinning ear to ear.

There was freedom that came to your unabashed honesty. As you walked down the stairs, your limps felt lighter, and that drunken feeling had almost spared you completely. Almost. On the last step, you nearly tripped but the sturdy railing kept your body level.

As you rounded the corner, Ellie brushed passed you and out the front door with her hand clutching her guitar. Her emotional eyes had caught the smile on your lips and perceived something that wasn’t true—just a shady assumption.

And she had every reason to assume.

The television had been turned up, and the sounds of the football game was blaring through the lower level of the house. You held up a finger to Abby, walking to your mother. “Hey,” You greeted, massaging your father’s shoulder as a physical greeting. “Would you mind makin’ Abby a plate to take home?”

She raised an eyebrow, an impressed eyebrow. “Oh, she’s leaving so soon?”

“I’m throwin’ in the asshole towel.” You shrugged, referencing her comment from earlier.

Maria chuckled, but her husband looked up at you with deepened eyebrows. “What the hell did you just say? Asshole towel—?”

“Just focus on the game, honey.” She patted her husbands shoulder, jumping to her feet. Maria met you around the couch, leaning close to you. “You go’n ahead and check on Ellie.”

You smiled, kissing her cheek, lovingly. Before you left out the door you, pointed at the tall doctor lingering in your kitchen. “Text me when you get back into the city, okay?”

Abby gave you a thumbs up. “Yeah,” Her eyes turned to your mothers frame. “Thank you, Mrs. Miller.”

Then, you slipped out the screen door, busting into a hasty speed walk. The uneven gravel wrecking havoc on your ankles, due to your slight impairment.

The porch light at the guesthouse flickered—it must need its bulb to be changed. When you appeared on the porch, your fist trembled as you raised it to knock on the door. Knock, knock, knock. You wrapped your arms around your body to keep warm.

A few moments passed and she didn’t respond.

You knocked the same pattern, and waited. Only for her to not respond, again. Behind you, you heard the engine of Abby’s Jaguar sounding off, beginning to roll along the gravel. But, you didn’t care much for it.

Heat in your cheeks blistered. “Ellie, I know you’re in there… Please, can you just open the door?” You tried with frowned lips. “It isn’t gettin’ any warmer out here…”

There was a brief silence before you heard her raspy voice on the other side of the door. “What? Abby can’t keep you warm anymore?” She scoffed.

You sighed, leaning an arm on the door frame. “No, she can’t because she just left.”

The door swung open, revealing a disheveled artist, fingers covered in charcoal. “Really?”

“Really.” You met her eyes with sincerity.

Ellie groaned, releasing the tension that she’s been harboring, leaving the door and walking into the living room.

That was her letting you inside, so you adhered, walking into the guesthouse. You shut the door behind you, eyeing her slender retreating frame. She meandered into the living room, placing hers on the stool in front of her easel. It was a new canvas, still being sketched on before she added the paints.

The pan of the pie sat on the coffee table in front of the couch, with a fork inside of it. She had taken the pie for herself, and instead of making a plate, she ate it from the tin.

Ellie continued the project she was working on, barely even giving you a glance. To break the silence, you spoke. “I meant what I said earlier…”

You couldn’t exactly see what she was sketching because you wanted to keep your distance for her sake—to respect her uncertainty. “I don’t know…” She muttered, shaking her head.

“What do you mean you don’t know?”

The woman sighed, turning her body toward you on the stool. She pushed the pieces of her auburn hair behind her pierced ears. “I’m an artist who’s only sells my paintings to local coffee shops for under a hundred bucks, because I’m too scared to try anywhere else— she’s a fucking doctor… And she’s ripped!” Her hands slapped against her thighs. “Why do you wanna be with me?”

Taken aback by her outburst, you blinked. A soft scoff left your lips. “Well, I don’t like you only because you’re an artist… And I didn’t like Abby only because she was a doctor— what kind of person do you think I am?” You questioned, softly. “I wanna be with you because I love you, Ellie— Abby could never make me feel what you make me feel.” You giggle behind your finger, briefly averting your eyes. “It’s like… I can fuckin’ smell colors and taste sounds—“

“Okay, now you’re just saying whatever.”

“Hey, you’re the one who asked why I want to be with you. I’m just being honest.” You shrugged, approaching her. Gently, you caressed your fingers up her bare arms, sliding up her neck to the crevice of her jaw. “I know it wasn’t easy to see what you saw earlier, and I’m sorry— I mean, just seeing you hug Cat made me wanna blow up.” She leaned into your touch, keening to you.

Smiling down at her, your eyes casted to the canvas on the easel. It was an outline of you—matter of fact, your naked body. “Ellie,” A gasp fled from your lips. “This better be an example of your photographic memory.”

Her hands had snuck along your hips, pulling you close enough for her head to rest on your chest. “It is… What do you think— I’m some sort of creep?”

“I find it funny that when you’re mad at me… Your first instinct is to draw me naked.” You snicker.

She hummed against the center pocket of your overalls. “I wasn’t necessarily mad— I was just… Sad.” Ellie looked up at you with a pout on her lips, batting her big, green eyes at you in a way that compelled you. “Abby is so much more than me— fuck, she’s financially worth more than me.” She inhaled, deeply. “What made me upset was that I understood why you’d choose her… She has a great career—“

Interrupting her, you plotted your lips against hers until her reciprocating was less confused and more enthused. Your finger dragged along her scalp, gripping slightly. When you pulled away, she leaned forward for more. “I don’t wanna talk about her anymore.” Your thumb grazed over her eyebrow, ingesting her soft features. The freckles that littered over the bridge of her nose, the subtle cracks in her lips. “I’ve been waiting to get you all to myself for days now— I refuse to waste it away because of some girl.”

“Some girl, huh?”

“Mhm.” You hummed. “I missed that cover of Keane that you had sung earlier… You think you could play it for me?” You pursed your lips, and she pulled your hips closer to her, pulling you between her legs.

Ellie peered up at you with yearning irises. “I can play whatever you want.”

A giggle escaped from your lips before you plotted them against hers once more, pulling her up to her feet. You pulled her to the bedroom, where her guitar was thrown over the messy, unmade bed.

She propped herself on the edge of the bed, and you plopped onto the ground so you could properly be her audience. You hugged your legs to your chest, looking up at her with a level of awe that you haven’t had in a while. Reflections of your past looked back at you—Ellie gripping the neck of her instrument, strumming the metal chords that’s been with her for years. Those chords had witnessed the glimmering eyes you were giving her; at a much younger age, before shit went haywire.

The smooth tone of Somewhere Only We Know glided through your ears, ignoring the chords she lagged on, or messed up because it didn’t matter. When she finished, Ellie barely got the chance to look at you before you leaped up to kiss her again. Gently, you pulled the guitar from her hands, leaning it up against the bed, tethering to her as if she were a wave crashing along an eroding boulder.

To love her freely was a weight lifted off your shoulders. It was a rush of water sprinting up the sand within a storm. A breaching of magma exploding from the mouth of a volcano—a expression of a release of passion. The inevitable.

No more Cat. No more Abby. But, besides the good sex, and the warmth of each other’s genuine embrace, and the comfort of knowing each other through and through… What else was there?

taglist: @autisticintr0vert , @liasxeatt , @hopingforgoodblogs , @lia-winther , @macaroni676 , @tobiotruther , @anewkindofloove , @fatbootymuncher , @maiaska , @culuvr , @0phantom0 , @onlinelesbo , @bbnbhm , @lovelaymedown , @lamorenita , @scatapple , @elliewilliamsblunt , @goddessofchaosss , @mikellie , @emmanetalias , @sevyscoven , @lluvbk , @saturnhas82moons , @na0koz , @violetszn , @prwttiestbunny , @superbscissorsdeanexpert , @iheartclairo66 , @avalovesmus1c , @flowerl1lly , @meow4510 , @222celestial , @sawaagyapong

#🪅#millersfinest #ellie tlou #ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams imagine #lesbian #ellie williams series #untethered

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human-rocket · 10 months ago

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Guiding Light | 1.0 | 1.5 | 2.0 | 2.5 | 3.0 | 3.5 | 4.0 | 4.5 | 5.0 | 5.5 | 6.0 | 6.5 | 7.0 | 7.5 | 8.0 | 8.5 | [end]

((Some dialogue is from 'Star Wars; The Secrets of the Sith' by Marc Sumerak))

Also available to read on Ko-fi and AO3

**Please do not repost**

DUN DUN DUNNN… I know this ended with a massive cliffhanger but I’m already working on chapters for Vol. 2! (Sorry we just get these evil guys scheming and no Obikin kiss or anything at the end… but they don’t call it ‘slow burn’ for nothin! 😬)

I’ll be taking a short break before posting new chapters. I just need to work out some Plot Things™ and finish cleaning up Vol. 1 so I can make it available to purchase as a PDF. If I do ever offer a print version, that will include all 3 volumes I have planned out. (Yes, 3… I’m insane and after numerous attempts cannot get the story to be any shorter 🙃)

My DMs/Asks are always open, so if you have any questions or just wanna chat Obikin then don’t hesitate to reach out. Thank you so much for liking and reblogging! Your comments are what keep me motivated to work on this.

Ok luv u byeeeee

#my art #obikin #guiding light #obi wan kenobi #anakin skywalker #sw fanart #star wars fanart #sw tcw #star wars the clone wars #star wars fan comic #star wars comics #force dyad #force bond #count dooku #palpatine #darth tyranus #darth sidious

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ncillary · 2 months ago

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Self Aware AU (Sylus)

Summary: You have the lowest Affinity with Sylus. The reason is because he is a red flag. As red as his eyes. Spawn of the devil. Unless, he is actually not as evil as you label him to be. Does this change something in you? Yes? No? Maybe so?

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Masterlist Self Aware AU

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| 1 [current] | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 |

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"I'm letting myself beta test this game just to receive a spawn of the devil? What a bull!"

You huffed out after you saw the official news about the new character.

"He already has a fandom even before his release. Maybe he wasn't so bad." Your friend sipped her drinks.

"They're just joining in the bandwagon of a hot looking face. But with a thrash personality, he remains a thrash."

"Wow. Slow down. You might get yourself in trouble for that."

"Let them. It's not like I'm bothering them in any way possible. I'm just complaining to my sole therapist." You grinned playfully.

Your friend looked deadpanned at you, "Pay up."

+------------------+-----------------+---------------+

After the update, you enjoy all the free resources the game gave to its players. The Main Story? You ignored it. You went with your merry routine each day. Going into Main Story update meant that you had to meet him. You're content with not meeting him. AT ALL.

Until an event came up.

Your friend's story peaked your interest.

"He almost died in the desert. You gotta question what exactly happened there, you know. Plus he said he had been called worse than the monster MC had him play the role that time."

"Hoooo... Setting some vulnerabilities to a strong character like him, huh. That's interesting."

That night, your interest had you searching for a fan post on the full video of his limited card for the current event. You looked bored until you reached the end. The scene where MC lounging around at night while having a quiet conversation with him.

Your heart wretched when it played out. The animation. The voice. Him thanking MC with the genuity of how much he felt at that time.

A tear trickled down to your cheeks that went unnoticed. Sobbing.

"...huh?"

You were confused. You stopped your curiosity there.

+---------------------+-------------------------------+

"So..." you cleared your throat, "what's his Main Story like?"

Your friend was looking at you, amused.

"He saves us from the kidnapper. Argument ensued. We kinda shot him on the chest," your eyes widen, "force to resonate with him-"

"What!"

"We knew people using his name to take the blame for explosion of MC's house-"

"What."

"He left us alone. He came to our rescue. Again. Make a deal with him to go into a dangerous place that he warned us about. He left us. Again. Safe us. Again. Ended with MC and him had this kinda connection like a red thread of fate."

You stared at your friend.

"All of this in just two chapters?"

"Yup."

You massaged your temple, "Maybe I shouldn't have been so stubborn by ignoring the Main Story. It IS the most important aspect of the game."

Your friend patted your back, "Enjoy your consequent to your action."

+---------------------+-------------------------------+

A few days later, you decided to finally brace through the Main Story. It's enjoyable. You admitted to that. Until the last chapter.

The blurriness. The blood. The embedded sword.

"You must press on."

That statement was resounding in you. Tears pooling in your eyes. The scene ended with a lot of open end mysteries. Good cliffhanger.

But you didn't register for that at all. Your mind was stuck on the image of Sylus walking away in the night.

"Where..." You breathed heavily.

What did you want to say?

Why this affect you so much?

+-------------------------+------------------------+

"Relax. I'm just a normal customer who wants some coffee."

You sighed, "Indeed you are."

You let him linger around after finishing the Main Story a few days ago. He just stood there. Watching you, MC, with an occasional smile. You had quietly selected him as one of the cafe encounters along with the others.

Staring. Silent.

You spoke first.

"...I'm sorry... judging by the bit of memories in the Main Story, MC probably stabbed you. Me stabbing you. I hurt you first. You did nothing wrong. I apologized for hating you for no reason. You're pretty chill." You gave him a simple smile.

"Take a deep breath. The air at night is more refreshing than daytime."

He suddenly spoke. You laughed slowly.

"What a coincidence. Well then, let me enjoy the night air and eat my late dinner peacefully."

You logged out.

+-------------------------+--------------------------+

He stared at the spot where your face was present seconds ago. Deep. Longing.

He gave a low laughed as he walked back to the sofa.

"We finally met, kitten. Take your time. I'll be here. Ready anytime."

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| 1 [current] | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 |

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Masterlist Self Aware AU

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#love and deepspace #sylus #self aware au #fanfic

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avifaunaa · 2 months ago

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how the world spins without you [ n.r. ] [ pt.3 ]

Authors Note: Welcome to the third installment to this series! To be honest with you guys I’m not entirely sure how long this series will be — I know it will have at least two more parts but after that it’s a guessing game. I hope you like it! Also like — remember when I said it’ll get softer? Yeah. Uh. That’s pushed back a chapter or two. Uh.

Masterlist

PART ONE | PART TWO | PART FOUR | PART FIVE

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Summary: It’s been a year and a half altogether since your hiring at Stark industries and just a little over two years in which your relationship with Natasha began. However one of Natasha's old enemies resurfaces and plans on striking where it hurts the worst -- and it draws back memories for both Reader and Natasha and forces them to confront their fears.

Content Warnings: the fluff and angst that comes with this series but added in — stalking and discussions of a stalker, general feelings of discomfort and anguish, some splashes of BRIEF humor, arguments, brief violence and a cliffhanger

Word Count: ~5.2K

Breakfast was the most entertaining meal at the Avengers Compound in New York.

You say this with assured confidence and know-how because, at precisely 8:30 A.M. after FRIDAY has managed to set off the universal alarm that can’t be turned off thanks to Tony’s masterkey password being required, you see Earth’s Mightiest Heroes all clamber into the kitchen in differing states of wake and dress.

Steve Rogers for example — he always was dressed in his training uniform and bright-eyed as he greeted you and Nat by the coffee pot.

“He’s always awake by five at the latest,” your girlfriend mumbled around greasy bacon later when she caught you eyeing him suspiciously, “Why do you think Grandpa goes to bed at eight?”

Steve sipped his coffee and peered at Natasha with this sort of bemused expression, as if this was all to common of a comment made. “Early bird gets the worm, Nat.”

You could have sworn Natasha’s eyelid twitched but made the incredibly wise choice to leave it alone and instead refilled her coffee for her — a third cup, black, in less than twenty minutes. She only took her coffee one way at the Compound.

Tony was in a state of frazzled disarray likely brought on by too much caffeine and not enough sleep — a state in which you’ve experienced a few times since coming to work for him when Nat wasn’t around to stop it. Pepper was nearby and dressed in her finest pantsuit, hair done and makeup perfect as she dangled a tie from her wrist.

“Tony,” she called as her husband stole bacon from Clint’s plate and added it to his despite having some already. The man was in a rush, probably to get to his lab. “Tony stop. Your schedule is clear today until eleven. You have that board meeting with . . .”

The words faded out from listening point as Pepper followed Tony, eyes to the ceiling as she guided him to his office instead of the lab like initially planned.

“He stole my bacon.”

Your gaze then turned to the forlorn source of the words. Clint usually never stayed overnight at the Compound these days — he settled well with his family into the farm even after he was pardoned. He hung out with Natasha until the early hours in the morning — doing whatever it is the two do to bond.

Natasha had smelt of bonfire and whiskey when she returned, so you suspected they’d not gone very far at all.

He was in a large t-shirt and his boxers, eyes staring at the grease stains left behind where his bacon once was.

“My bacon,” he repeated, frowning.

Natasha deliberately crunched hard into one of her slices from where she sat between you and him without so much as turning her head to look at him.

You elbowed the ombré-haired spy in the flank, causing her to cough mid-swallow. “Serves you right,” you said as you leaned backwards and swiped some bacon from your plate and threw it on Clint’s behind Natasha.

“You’re evil,” she rasped rubbing at her upper chest and eyeing you. “I was just eating my breakfast.”

“Okay, sure,” you agreed in the tone that clearly reflected your opposite view, but you flashed her a teasing smirk to soften the blow as she scoffed at Clint digging into his gifted bacon.

“How do we turn off the eight o’clock alarm?” Sam asked as he shuffled tiredly in, Bucky right behind him. “I had to beat the shit out of some sorely underarmed terrorists yesterday and I didn’t appreciate having my well-earned sleep disrupted.”

Bucky grunted and shimmied around the man to cross around the counter and look at what was served this morning. He ignored the bacon, had browns, and fruit and chucked three spoonfuls of eggs onto his plate before exiting.

“Eggs only? What the fuck?” You said without really meaning to, mostly because that was a lot of eggs when there was other options offered.

“We listen, we don’t judge,” Clint said as he brandished his now empty plate and removed himself from his spot next to Nat.

You knew the words in which he mimicked from a trend and pointed an accusing finger at him.

“Why are you on TikTok? You’re too old for that, it’ll rot your brain,” you replied as you shoved your empty plate toward him too. He scowled at you but took it as if offended.

“My children,” he said in a way that implied it explained everything. “They want to get TikTok famous by showing me on their little videos. Do you realize how many messages my twelve year old has gotten about whether or not I’m still married?”

“Snipe them,” Natasha told him simply, obviously, “and then delete their accounts.”

“The — the weirdos or my kids?”

Natasha smirked at him.

Clint sighed heavily even as you tried to elbow Natasha again. But she seemed ready for such an act and grabbed you in a gentle but firm headlock and leaned her head down, grasping your chin, “You’re being bratty.”

You smiled at her to disguise the fact that you could feel your cheeks heating up at her intense gaze. She didn’t prod at you though, simply offered a peck and released you before getting to her feet. “Clint — I think I want to beat the hell out of you before you go home today.”

Clint sighed again. “Yes, Natasha.”

You were left with Sam and Steve — the two on complete opposite ends of the “awake” spectrum as you cleaned up the countertops you, Nat, and Clint used.

“We should go running,” Steve finally said, gesturing to Sam.

The Falcon in all his honor and glory slammed his coffee cup down and flipped Steve off — who in turn managed the most offended look you’ve ever seen.

“You’re buzzing.”

It was a short form sentence that you believed was intended not at you — maybe at Bruce who had joined you and Tony in the lab today after Tony had finished his meetings.

You let the comment slip away into the music that filtered through the overhead surround-sound system that Tony showed you once on the giant hologram control panel.

It’s taken you six months to completely figure out the settings for the music, you still have trouble pulling up detailed blueprints you upload into it via Friday sometimes.

Your degree was absolutely worthless in those moments, but even Tony waved you off and admitted to designing the panel and system himself and thus it doesn’t work in the way most technology of this caliber would.

It did make you feel better, admittingly.

The music suddenly cut off in the middle of the best part and you twitched, your hand-held laser machine cutting a heated indent into the machinery you were working on.

“Kid,” Tony said behind you when you stared longingly at the ruined metal as steam poured from the red-hot wound. “You’re literally buzzing.” He poked you where your phone was in your white jacket’s pocket.

“Oh. Oh shit.” You sit the laser down and fumble as Tony backs away with some sort of gun looking object swinging dangerously loose in his hand. “Sorry, Tony.”

He made a pew pew noise at you as he sauntered back to Bruce [ who was too ingrained in his work to care ], and responded, “Next time it happens, I take fifty bucks from your paycheck.”

“I’ll sic Natasha on you,” you threatened as you swiped up on your screen to see why your phone was blowing up in the first place.

If Tony had cracked back at you, it went upon deaf ears. The insistent nudging was a barrage of text messages sent from a contact labeled UNKNOWN with no phone number available when you checked.

You were mostly confused initially — you rarely got messages unless it was from Kate and Yelena, Natasha when she wasn’t with you and not on a mission. Even your number was scarcely used by the members of the Compound after you’ve given it to them. They preferred to speak through FRIDAY most days.

The contents of the first ten texts were photos and that is what had your heart dropping into the pit of your stomach as you scrolled down each one.

They were of you — and Natasha together sometimes — but mostly of you. Leaving the Compound, going on dates with Nat, they even have one of you two exiting the shelter with the new scruffy white kitten in your arms. You were beaming in the photo, completely oblivious to the eyes on you from a distance.

So was Natasha.

It made you think . . . Natasha was the most observant person you knew. She would switch sides with you on the sidewalk if she felt like there was something about to go wrong. Sometimes she was right [ Peter came crashing into the windshield of a car while the Green Goblin attacked him. Not even the suit Tony made him was holding up against this menace! ] and would get you to safety before joining in the fray.

But this time . . . This time each photo was taken she was completely unaware which made you wonder how well this person was at hiding among the crowd.

It scared you. You were scared and you only realized this when the photos started becoming hard to stare at as your hands shook under your phone.

You glanced behind you quickly but was relieved to see Tony and Bruce back in their own worlds amongst the technology.

You swiped down more and found no more photos, but actual texts.

The Widow cannot run from her past forever.

It will consume her like ashes over the world and once he has you, she will never again know the meaning of peace and her mind will never rest.

Happy hunting.

Three text messages all to the point -- and very matter-of-fact. Like whoever sent them knew they weren't going to be concerned about threatening a former assassin's girlfriend.

You swallowed the thick lump that shot up to your throat and decided to be logical about this. You emailed the texts to Natasha and hoped she checked it before you came home to your shared rooms that night.

Telling her could end in just as an easy disaster as keeping them from her. In the two years total you have known Nat, something she had made explicitly clear to you more than once is that any threats you get may not be as simple as an internet troll looking to ruffle some feathers.

This had been made entirely too clear when a close call had occurred right after you got hired by Stark and still lived in your own place. It had shaken both you and Natasha out of the feeling of unbreakable bliss.

She had found you a few days after the incident itself, slipping you a glass of wine while she sat an ice cold beer down on the coffee table untouched but open.

For a while the television was the only company you both kept -- then:

"I am . . . I have been meaning to talk more in depth with you about what it means to be with someone like me," Nat finally said leaning forward to grab the beer. It left rivulets of condensation on the glass table. "But I figured when . . . there's been a lot."

You paused the show you were not really watching to really show her you were listening. "You've told me what it means," you replied, not unkind but confused. The wine dangled half-drank in one hand. "We discussed it and I have had meetings with Pepper about--"

"No, Malysh," Natasha interrupts firmly. You took a second to take her in, the way she spoke and how . . . unsettled she was.

She clenched the bottle's neck so tightly she could break it if she wanted to. Her hair was still pulled up and windswept from returning from what she claimed was statements on your behalf to the court about the incident.

She hadn't wanted you near the damn thing -- and at the time you had let her take over with a fierce protectiveness and be your wall, your rock to lean on. You weren't harmed, but you had felt so violated and paranoid for days after that it was enough to leave a scar.

"What that was," she finally said, voice softening but filled with a pain that you could not describe, "that wasn't . . . that wasn't the worst of what could happen to people that get close top-leveled people like me, or Steve, or Tony. For me in particular, I have made twice as many enemies as most of the others have. My first life in Russia as their Widow and assassin and then my second chance here -- as an Agent of the U.S. government and a hero in the public eye."

You took a big gulp of your wine to hide your features shifting with your emotions. You still remember his face showing up at your door, forcing his way in, his breath hot and wet in your face --

"That man -- he wasn't one of those you said," you managed around the rim of the glass, sending a worried glance her way from a few feet away as you regained control of yourself. "You said that he -- he was someone who fit closer to the criteria of crazed fans."

"I did," she agreed. Her shoulders remained tight as she leaned back against the couch. "And that remains true. But we looked closely into what he had you read in front of him before sending it to me. The writing was in blood and there were some things contained in those letters that only could have been known if he was watching you and me together long enough."

The way he licked his lips, those beady eyes gleaming with anticipation as you opened the envelopes one-by-one and read each fucking letter.

Another swallow of wine and you locked away the memory and trauma that came with it.

"Yeah, well, he's probably enjoying life at Rikers instead."

"He didn't go to Rikers."

This made you pause again. Unable to hide your confusion or any other emotion -- your wine glass was empty. Instead you placed it tenderly on the side table and found another focus: Liho and Swayze swatting at one another in their cat tree,

"What do you mean," you said shakily after finding your voice, eyes locking with your girlfriend's, "he didn't go to Rikers? Where the fuck is he? Floating in space? Lost in the system? Do we even know if he's still imprisoned?"

You hadn't meant to be so sharp, nor did you intend to throw the accusatory tone at her in the same sentence. But your heart was racing faster than you could think which meant you couldn't think.

Natasha suddenly scooted closer to you and raised her hand in offer. You regard her for a moment but know you'd give in and need her touch. You link fingers with her and the warmth of her is like a coat of salve on a endlessly painful wound.

"He," she began as she settled into your side, finding her words, ". . . Do you remember when I brought you by before you got hired here? It was a short stay and you met Happy and Pepper. They had paperwork."

"I was on spring break," you acknowledge, nodding. You were in and out before you got a good look at anything, really, so you didn't consider it your first time at the Compound.

"Right. I told you everything we were having you sign," the Widow continued as her free hand started to trace designs lightly into the skin of your arm, "It was an NDA and paperwork that went with it in regards to the government bullshit."

You were still an anxious mess but you tried to draw some humor from what you could remember feeling about the situation. You sent Nat a weak smile, "Sure. Every time I signed my name on a line I felt like I was slowly giving pieces of my soul away to the government just so I could get into your pants and hold your hand." You let a pause fill the air for dramatics. "So worth it."

Her eyebrows shot into your hairline, perhaps impressed by your bold statement but snorting. "I see what I am to you." She stops to press the softest of kisses to your head, as if to soften a blow about to land, "So that NDA. It was in all that heavy packeted wording, but when you agreed to it the government, in turn, agreed to essentially view you as a protected asset under listed circumstances."

She let you mull over words for a moment and you tapped your fingers against the armrest. Maybe you should have read deeper than you actually did.

"What I'm getting from this is that I'm sort of . . . I'm sort of under some special security or whatever?"

"Kind of," Natasha agrees, fingers finally coming to a rest on your pulse. "After we did the required background check and got the paperwork squared away it pretty much meant that you became important to keep from any particular . . . attention. We did what we do with anyone who either works with our agency or is associated with us in some way -- we put a security AI detail on your name and information so that it can alert us if any of that is sought out and leaked. It became confidential the minute you signed and hiding it draws curious eyes on top of seeing me out with you more often."

"So my private information was pretty much zapped out of all existence and anything under my name is watched?"

Natasha nods. "Right."

"Okay," you drew out, scratching behind your ear. "This doesn't . . . what happened that made the dude find out who I was?"

"He didn't use the methods that most of these people do, he went off grid and used paranoia and "wait 'em out" techniques. He was someone I had knowledge about for a while but when I met you I stopped seeing him -- or perhaps I stopped looking over my shoulder." The vulnerability she was showing you right now was so . . . you didn't want her to be ashamed of it. Not for a second.

So you cupped her cheek and tilted her face to her. "You're not blaming yourself, are you? Because it's not your fault, Natasha. You deserve to live a life where you don't have to look over your shoulder every single second." She turned her face into your palm and kissed it so softly.

"I do blame myself," she admitted in a small voice, hiding in your comfort while finding shame in it. "It is very hard not to when he has been a shadow to me that I was used to but should have known would have grown."

"He wasn't using usual means you said," you repeated her words, frowning and stroking her cheek. "He was going to find out about me whether or not you forgot about him. If you hid me, he would've followed you to where you meet me."

"Logic and emotions don't compute together," she said quietly, closing her eyes. You allowed her this moment of silence and rest your head on top of hers, still cradling her head in one hand.

"He found you because I got sloppy," she finally told you.

"He found me because he was relentless and avoided ways of being caught -- he was smart in those regards. You weren't sloppy, he was just . . . he was just good."

Natasha released a breath you did not realize she had been holding. "I'm supposed to protect you -- being with me it comes with those . . . those dangers. If I even slip up once --"

"Then what?" you prod softly, searching her eyes.

Natasha didn't seem able to get the words out. You ran your fingers through her long hair. "Nat, we do this as a team. We're a pair. I know your instinct is to protect me and I love you so much for that. But I need you to know that protecting me doesn't mean it's your duty."

She curled deeper into you and you kissed her head again. "I want to protect you, too. I may not be able to fight the monsters you can -- but I know how to chase them away when you sleep and keep you safe when you come home. So just . . . don't worry when I'm with you. I know I have nothing to worry about. But also," you added, giving her a nudge, "you needn't worry when we're not together either. I have Iron Man."

She scoffed and pushed off of you, retrieving her beer but coming back to sit next to you and cuddle.

"You never said where he went," you told her an hour later, deep into Shark Tank. "The guy."

She lifted the beer to her lips, eyes still locked onto the screen and said, "He went to a place we take enemies of the State. A place that makes Rikers looks like daycare."

You would have tried feeling sorry for him if he hadn't broken your favorite mug on top of the whole 'writing letters to Natasha in blood and making her girlfriend read them' thing.

Natasha was pissed off when you returned at 9PM to your apartments, FRIDAY setting the smart alarm system automatically behind you after locking the door.

She was sitting cross-legged on the sofa with her glasses on in the dark and staring at her laptop. Hair braided but loosely undone, sweater and shorts plastered to her fit form.

"Should I be worried you have no lights on?" you mused as you dropped your back in the entry way and threw your lab coat on top of it before slowly starting toward her.

She sent you a frosty look.

You thought up all of the possible things that you could have done to incite this part of Nat. Usually it had to do with leaving work too late — but this morning you both agreed between 8:30-10:00PM.

Did you leave your shoes on?

You did a quick look down at your feet and — nope — you managed to off the tennis shoes into the hall outside the door before stepping inside like habit.

She had returned to her furious typing by the time you went over a particularly short list of things that you ensure you don’t do to piss off Natasha. She was slow to anger — especially with you. And if she was angry she would hide it until she was ready to discuss it at a calmer time.

So whatever you did really upset her and you can’t remember a damn thing about it. You breathed out through your nostrils and pulled up your big-kid pants as you slowly made a few steps over. Then stopped to ensure she still had space.

“Okay,” you start simply, sticking your hands into your jean pockets. “I think you’re going to have to tell me why you’re mad. I’m no dice on this one.”

She jammed her thump into the enter key and pointedly ignored you. Swayze wailed at you as she twined between your legs, a ball of thick white fur. Liho was not far behind — a dart of black in the dimly lit room.

“Natasha — Nat,” you tried as you bent down to scoop up your still wailing feline and sit down next to her on the couch. “Talk to me, please. I don’t like it when you glare at me like I’m the one in your interrogation room.”

She was slow to give you a reaction but she closed her laptop and covered the room in total darkness. Only then did she say, “FRIDAY, living room overheads, soft yellow.”

“Yes, Ms. Romanoff.” The order was executed immediately, and the gentle glow lighting up Natasha’s features less harshly than the screen. She looked less hostile and more tired.

“When did you get those messages?”

You blinked, surprised by the question. Surprised only because you’d stupidly forgotten about the entire thing by burying yourself into your work to not have to confront those memories. “I — probably only like ten minutes before I sent them to you in the email.”

“Did you reply to them?” she asked evenly, eyes locking with yours. Green pierced you in a way that made you entirely too nervous.

“No, and I think you know that,” you said slowly. “What’s going on, Nat?”

“We got into your phone records,” the spy told you, resting her chin on her cupped hands and nudging her glasses back up her nose. “The number that messaged you is difficult to track and even one of my agents, Daisy, is struggling to get into this particular set of code that was encrypted into the photos. She’s one of our best, and she’s having problems with it.”

“I didn’t know that the photos were encrypted — they just sent normally like — I don’t know, photos.”

Her lips thinned. “Yes, we didn’t expect you to know which is unfortunately why the problem had gotten worse.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you asked quietly. Your hands no longer stroked along Swayze’s coat, and the cat had wiggled from your grasp after sensing the tension.

Natasha broke her gaze. “Nothing — it meant nothing. All I’m saying is that your phone isn’t safe anymore. They likely were able to sneak through your phone’s security and into all the private information you have stored. Empty the phone. We need to destroy it.”

You rubbed your face and sagged into the cushions, overwhelmed with the coldness Natasha exuded and how she seemed to treat you like you were a civvie and not her partner.

“. . . now, Y/N.” She turned her head away from you as she stood up, glasses removed and went into your shared bedroom.

“So I’m on first-name basis now?” you muttered as you dug into your bag and scrounged around until you came through your phone. You tossed it on the coffee table and stalked into the room.

“Why are you acting like this?”

Natasha was fidgeting with something on her Widow suit. She only did that if she had a mission coming up — and she would usually take the suit down to the armory to restock her belt and pouches.

She let you wallow in the silence besides the rustling of fabric and zippers before she said, “I don’t know how you think I’m acting.”

You crossed your arms. “Okay assassin-spy-superhero-watchdog,” you told her sarcastically, tensing up when she shot you a glare. “You’re being an ass. This is not normal behavior.”

“I’m perfectly fine and it’s just been busy at S.H.I.E.L.D. lately. I’m stressed,” she excused, throwing the suit down on the bed and turning away from you. “Are you tired? You worked late tonight.”

“Natasha I’m not tired enough to not talk to you,” you tried, moving forward. “This is weird. You don’t —“

“I need you to just—“ Natasha looked up and finally, finally, met your gaze again. “—just stop assuming something’s wrong. You’re okay.”

“I’m not the one worried I’m not okay!” You burst, arms flying into the air over your head. “You’re behaving weirdly.”

She clenched her jaw and skimmed past you into the other room, and you stood there in shock at the sudden change your partner was having in attitude.

She was closing down, locking the doors and windows. Your throat was starting to close when you realized how distant and cold she was becoming — and you feared it had to do with everything on the phone she found.

Did the findings spook her? Did the anger at being caught unaware by another person anger her to the point of shutting you out?

You didn’t think you would be getting an answer.

“I’m going to — I need to leave,” you breathed when you found her in the weapons closet in the hall. Despite the armory, she still kept her own stash and you laughed when you first saw it.

“What?” This seemed to get a rise out of her as she stood. Her eyes flickered with a hint of something — but it was so brief that you believed you imagined it. “No, with that text I would be more comfortable if you stayed here.”

“Natasha whatever’s going on is making me uncomfortable,” you snapped, pushing down the lifting sense of doom at the look on her face. “You’re not talking to me. You’re literally — I don’t know what’s going on but I feel like I came home to a weird scene of the Twilight Zone.”

Natasha hesitated as she set her gun carefully back into the case. “Listen, I need you to trust me. I know I’m not giving you answers but I have a reason. I wouldn’t — this is —“ her hands were trembling.

You closed your hand around hers as you got on your knees in front of her. “You’re panicking and shutting down on me. This is not usual for you, Nat. I trust you with my life but I need to understand what’s triggered this behavior.”

She glanced behind you, around the both of you, nervously. Her throat bobbed as she moved her hand until it encased yours in a firm grip. “I know who this might be and I believe it’s connected to the previous incident.”

“But you said the guy was pretty much in a pit,” you replied softly, keeping your anxiety at bay to keep Nat calm. Though you know Nat wouldn’t freak out if you did — she took your panic in stride.

“He is but I don’t think he was the one I should have worried about,” she admitted with a strained tone. For the first time you saw tears start to mist over her eyes. “I think he was — I think he was used to keep me busy.”

“From what?” you encouraged, stretching forward and grabbing her face. “Natasha if you know who’s doing this then you need to get yourself protected, not me. They’re only using me.”

“You don’t understand, my love,” Natasha murmured, forehead resting solidly against yours. “They’re using you but will absolutely kill you. This is an old enemy — but recent enough that they still seek me out.”

“Who could possibly want you dead this badly that isn’t already rotting in the grave?”

Before she could give you the response you wanted, something sharp and pricked suddenly and silently hit your side. Natasha pulled back and grabbed your shoulders.

Her eyes flicked behind you to the large, floor to ceiling windows that faced the forest that surrounded the Compound and realized there was a hole in the glass.

And then something shattered the windows into dust as she threw herself over your body.

Reader and Natasha will return in part four

PART FOUR

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff #htwswy #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #series

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a-book-of-creatures · 1 year ago

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And since I just reposted something about Animorphs, here's more required reading - K. A. Applegate's letter to the fans after the series ended. Removing spoilers just in case because you need to go out there and read every one of the 60 or so books.

Dear Animorphs Readers: Quite a number of people seem to be annoyed by the final chapter in the Animorphs story. There are a lot of complaints that [spoilers]. That there was no grand, final fight-to-end-all-fights. That there was no happy celebration. And everyone is mad about the cliffhanger ending. So I thought I'd respond. Animorphs was always a war story. Wars don't end happily. Not ever. Often relationships that were central during war, dissolve during peace. Some people who were brave and fearless in war are unable to handle peace, feel disconnected and confused. Other times people in war make the move to peace very easily. Always people die in wars. And always people are left shattered by the loss of loved ones. That's what happens, so that's what I wrote. [spoilers] That doesn't by any means cover everything that happens in a war, but it's a start. Here's what doesn't happen in war: there are no wondrous, climactic battles that leave the good guys standing tall and the bad guys lying in the dirt. Life isn't a World Wrestling Federation Smackdown. Even the people who win a war, who survive and come out the other side with the conviction that they have done something brave and necessary, don't do a lot of celebrating. There's very little chanting of 'we're number one' among people who've personally experienced war. I'm just a writer, and my main goal was always to entertain. But I've never let Animorphs turn into just another painless video game version of war, and I wasn't going to do it at the end. I've spent 60 books telling a strange, fanciful war story, sometimes very seriously, sometimes more tongue-in-cheek. I've written a lot of action and a lot of humor and a lot of sheer nonsense. But I have also, again and again, challenged readers to think about what they were reading. To think about the right and wrong, not just the who-beat-who. And to tell you the truth I'm a little shocked that so many readers seemed to believe I'd wrap it all up with a lot of high-fiving and backslapping. Wars very often end, sad to say, just as ours did: with a nearly seamless transition to another war. So, you don't like the way our little fictional war came out? You don't like [spoilers]? You don't like that one war simply led to another? Fine. Pretty soon you'll all be of voting age, and of draft age. So when someone proposes a war, remember that even the most necessary wars, even the rare wars where the lines of good and evil are clear and clean, end with a lot of people dead, a lot of people crippled, and a lot of orphans, widows and grieving parents. If you're mad at me because that's what you have to take away from Animorphs, too bad. I couldn't have written it any other way and remained true to the respect I have always felt for Animorphs readers. K.A. Applegate

#animorphs #k a applegate #she was so real for this

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villainsandvictimsalliance · 11 months ago

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Time to be delulu yet completely serious on my bnha 423 opinions.

Good points: The resolution between AFO and Yoichi was satisfactory, love as a reason for evil and evil deeds, the rooftop trio having one final moment full of emotion, the moment of Kurogiri thinking about Tomura and the LOV, Deku having a quirk of his own born out of determination and hard work, Deku as the protagonist of bnha in general, Tomura's last actions and words.

Bad points: Rushed arc conclusions, moments that felt kinda repetitive or lacked the punch given that we've seen/lived them before, not the best compositions we've seen from Horikoshi on the panels, Tomura's arc being rushed to a martyr ending— for impact???? ( or it ending on another cliffhanger that is gonna turn to be different from what we expected ).

I'll go in depth, so please check under the cut.

GOOD POINTS:

Yoichi and AFO:

The last conversation among these brothers was everything I was expecting. The love was there and it transformed them. It made AFO a monster and Yoichi a ghost.

For me, this time the AFO ending needed to be quick because we've already said goodbye to him too many times. This was supposed to be about AFO's refusal to give up on his brother and the unresolved relationship of those two.

I really liked how Yoichi reminded AFO that he needs to face the consequences of his actions and that he's love won't be able to save them.

Villain love:

Love as a reason for pain and destruction is perhaps one of my favorite tropes. So many stories approach love as this purely morally good feeling, when in the end it is just like any other feeling, you know?

People go to war for love all the time. They kill for love. Die for love. Do unforgivable things for love. Human existence is sooooo complex, why would love be the exception?

Horikoshi has been REALLY careful with the AFO backstory and his motivations. He didn't want an antagonist that felt empty. He made AFO human without redeeming him, okay? Because our ability to sympathize with some of AFO's traits doesn't make him less evil. To put it simply, it means that evil things are also human at heart.

Even those acts that you can't forgive or forget are motivated by something.

Kurogiri and the rooftop trio:

We knew from the beginning they were not the main characters of this manga.

We've gotten their story through glimpses and moments. Their time together had always been somehow rushed. Too many things to say, not enough time and they are on opposite sides of the war after all.

We knew that Kurogiri would go back because we knew he would protect Tomura during the final fight. We knew that he'd help the heroes defeat AFO. We knew he'd have to make his choice and say his goodbyes to his old friends.

Kurogiri, Tomura and the LOV

"He's friends are waiting" along with the image of Spinner asking Kurogiri to bring Tomura back to them was the highlight of this chapter for me. (You all expected it, right?)

Something about the way it reads like a father who wants his son to live because he is being waited for. He has friends who love him and would do anything to protect him, see him safe and sound. Something about the symbolism of Spinner putting Father (aka Kotaro's hand) on Kurogiri's face as he asked for it.

This chapter acknowledged that Kurogiri and Shirakumo share the same character core. They are always the protectors, the ones who would sacrifice themselves to see their charge survive. Similar to how Mic was waiting for Shouta so Shirakumo made sure that Shouta would survive, Kurogiri wants to do the same for Spinner and Tomura.

This alone would require an entire post to elaborate.

Deku's quirk:

The debate between endgame quirkless Deku or endgame OFA user Deku is settle.

I really liked that Deku got a quirk on his own that was born out of his own determination to be a hero. It's a nice representation of all he is as a character and what he stands for. Similarly, I enjoyed a lot the fact that it was short-lived. I'm the type who likes it better when things require a sacrifice or when miracles have their own conditions.

Deku doesn't feel overpowered to me. You get that sense that he really deserves everything he has and that it hasn't been a nonsense gift from the narrative. There's also the human condition, the limitations that keep him grounded.

Bnha and Deku:

Deku defeating AFO 'cause villains and heroes help him, his friends being there for him and being there to cheer for him as he fights, his sensei being there despite the fact that Aizawa at first thought Deku wouldn't make it— all the details that make bnha what it is.

They were good.

The UA kids really keep the story consistent when it is about them. They don't give up on anyone, they fight for each other, they stay to witness things for themselves. I love them <3

Tomura's last actions and words:

Careful here. Listen to what I'm saying.

If the narrative had pointed out to this ending, this would have been a good way to execute it.

Tomura coming back along with the vestiges to pack one final punch to defeat AFO— I know many fans that would be moved to tears and would be super excited to see it. Tomura was on point in this chapter, dialoguing with Deku without the hatred in his heart, his face being clearer and almost tender.

He felt defeated, like he had accepted his death already. There's also the connection to Kurogiri and Nana (who defended him) and his words to Spinner, that are meant as a general message to depict how much Tomura values the LOV.

Even the fact that AFO kept him around 'cause a part of him loved / cared about Tomura feels fitting, but I'm not sure if I correctly read the leaks in that part...

Anyway, we got the old trope of the antagonist who used his last moments to help defeat the real villain. It serves as his redemption and the expectation is for the public to feel sorry bad for him.

BAD POINTS

Rushed conclusions:

In my opinion, this chapter was too fast paced and therefore was not as emotional as it should have been.

It doesn't give the feeling that it's fast because the battle is intense. It gives the feeling of too much information packed on one chapter, so nothing really shines on its own. It's way too informative, not enough action narration.

Like I said before, the fatal mistake of a story is to be boring. Art has to provoke you, it has to engage with you, question you, awake things in you. This chapter tho, many things happened at the same time and it grew a bit murky.

Repetitive moments

Again, personal opinion here.

I think certain bnha movies were a mistake. Not because they were bad or boring or whatever, but because Horikoshi wrote parts of bnha real ending into them to the point you'd say "we've already seen that" while reading bnha 423.

Deku and Bakugo teaming up to defeat AFO was so expected. Not as in "the narrative is making sense", but as in "we saw it on heroes rising".

I feel the same with the students all appearing to help Deku fight AFO. That's a typical shonen structure where the friends making space for the protagonist to reach the main villain. It was already happening, so why bring AFO back?? I think the story is over-explaining here, making everything way too obvious. We could have had AFO's resolution with Yoichi before and the students moment after. In truth, it feels like Horikoshi closed some character arcs before he should and left plot holes without explanation, so he needed to reopen to accommodate.

Panel composition:

I admire Horikoshi when it comes to panel composition. He has some amazing panels that make the story really flow, but bnha 423 isn't there.

There are too many elements clustered and empty spaces that don't feel with purpose (in manga, even the blanks must have a purpose). This chapter should have been at least two, so you wouldn't have to rush Bakugo appearing, Yoichi and AFO resolution, Kurogiri saying his goodbye to the rooftop trio and facing AFO for Tomura's sake, Deku remembering where he started and where he is, Tomura last words and the Tomura and Deku resolution...

Those are too many important plot points to illustrate in a hurry.

Also?? The panel of Tomura and Deku punching AFO is so unserious. Totally wrong place to be funny sjbdjdnd why does it even feel like the vestiges are punching air???

" Tomura's ending " :

I'm not the first to say it feels anticlimactic and as if it isn't the ending at all.

The major problem is that through the manga, Horikoshi has focused a lot on Tomura as a character, carefully developing him, giving him tropes that are often reserved for the hero or the main character, making sure we empathize with him, we understand him, hyping up Deku's journey to rescue him.

We got an entire arc from the LOV perspective. This is not the type of one sentence ending you give to an antagonist you spent so much ink and sweat on. The nonchalant way of Tomura accepting his death? The little reaction from Deku? What was the purpose of the manga building up the LOV friendship to the moment where Kurogiri told AFO that Tomura's friends were waiting for him, if you'd make him just disappear on thin air?

This reads absolutely like a bunny within a hat.

That's being optimistic.

If we want to be cynical, maybe this is all there is. I don't find it readable to end the story with Tomura dying. All that effort to save him and it ends in "oh well, he decayed along with AFO"?!

If you think about it, Toga status is unknown because we don't even know where she went or if she's still alive, Touya status is also unknown although we know he wanted to live and that the ice prevented him from further damage, we haven't seen Spinner, we don't know if Kurogiri vanished with that last attack on AFO and now we saw Tomura decaying into the wind.

Yo kill half the surviving LOV would be a bold move that wouldn't follow the narrative. The reward for the hero students should be being able to save their counterpart, so the world can regard them as the greatest heroes 'cause they save the unsalable and blah blah blah.

There's also the fact Tomura hasn't been saved yet. Tenko? Nana and Deku saved him from Kotaro. The crying kid? Saved from AFO by Deku and the vestiges and the others. Tomura? Nop, he's dying/dead. The one person Spinner really wanted to save was Tomura. He didn't know about the crying kid or Tenko. He wanted to save his friend, the "irredeemable" villain, the young man he played videogames with and fought alongside and vowed to follow.

If this is the end, it's incomplete.

So we might hope it is not the end.

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pikuna · 2 months ago

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Was looking at the DanDaDan poster for season 2 and noticed that they actually show the Kaiju suit? We get that far?! If the 2nd season/part (because I agree, the first season was cut into two parts just with the way 1st season ended so abrupt and S2 just needing 7 months to release) is also 12 eps long it might cover 35 manga chapters, which would be right at the beginning of the Kaiju arc. I pray they don't cut it again with a cliffhanger. 😂

My actual hope would be they release more than 12 episodes and we get the whole Kaiju arc after Cursed House and Evil Eye, but that would be a lot at once. xD

Side note, can I say how cool transformed Okarun/Yokarun looks here? 🤩 Just the way that the black of his maw extents over his neck to spike at his back, absolutely awesome. Can't wait to see him in a proper fight!

#DanDaDan #DanDaDan Anime #Okarun #Momo Ayase #Turbo Granny #first part/season 1 was just a warm up #this part will go so hard #way more action and Momokarun moments #and less awkward/uncomfortable stuff #still some but less #at least after the first episode #Momo still has to get out of her weird situation

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avoxrising · 1 year ago

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The Feral One • Ch 28

Finnick x Y/N

Series Masterlist Link

This may be the last chapter for a few days as we’re approaching the end of the story rapidly and I haven’t finished editing it yet lol. I apologize for leaving it off with a cliffhanger but I want to make sure the end is perfect before posting it. Life’s been busy this week so I haven’t had the time to finish it the way I want to.

Content Warnings - Injury, death, medical issues, I promise Finnick isn’t being stupid this time lol

The next week was full of recovery. You slowly regained your strength and were able to try solid foods again. The doctors polished all your scars off, including the one on your face from your games, at your request. You wanted nothing left to remind you of them.

You started physical therapy, as well as regular sessions with Dr. Aurelius. He allowed Finnick to join you, realizing you felt more comfortable with him nearby. You still had to use a walker to get around, but you were making progress.

A few weeks after the war ended, Coin called all the victors into a meeting. There were barely any left, mostly due to the war.

“I’ve called you all here for a very symbolic vote,” she states. You don’t like where this is going.

She proceeds to pitch her idea for a hunger games featuring capital children. There are mixed reactions from the remaining victors, with some believing the idea to be fair and others believing it to be cruel. Votes are cast around the room and it finally comes down to Katniss.

“I get to kill Snow,” she tells Coin, who agrees to this proposition.

“Then I vote yes,” she states. “For Prim.”

You can’t even process what this means. Another games? Was Coin out of her mind? You finally realized what you had been denying all along, as long as Coin was in charge, you would never be free.

Finnick brings you back to your shared room after the meeting. You allow his touch but still flinch away at everyone else. Dr. Aurelius had been working with you on that but it’s hard to undo the trauma of many years.

“I just want to go home,” you tell him.

“You have to stay here for a bit,” he explains. “District 4 doesn’t have the resources for your treatment. Once you are better I promise you can go back to 4.”

“What about you?” you ask him. “Are you staying?”

He hesitantly shakes his head.

“I have to go to 4 for a few weeks but I’ll come back as soon as I can,” he states. “Johanna will be here with you in the meantime and I’ll call every day.”

“You’re leaving?” you ask, dumbfounded by his response.

“I promise it’s for a good reason,” he says, squeezing your hand. “I wouldn’t be doing this if it wasn’t important.”

“When do you leave?” you ask.

“In two weeks,” he responds. “I’ll be here for the first bit of your treatment and return before it’s over. Then we will both go back to 4 together. Do you trust me?”

“Always”

That afternoon Finnick helps you walk out onto the avenue to stand next to the other victors. Snow was finally falling, and you were both alive to witness it.

Standing in front of all the capital people made you uneasy. What did they think of you? Were they going to hurt you?

You’re lost in your thoughts when suddenly the crowd erupts into chaos. You look up to see Coin lying dead on the podium, an arrow in her heart. A mob of people begins rushing towards Snow, eager to kill him.

Finnick quickly scoops you up and carries you away from the commotion. When he finally sets you down, you ask what happened.

“Katniss killed Coin,” he states. “Snow is dead.”

He has to take you back to your room before you have a breakdown. What evil creature was going to seize power of Panem next? All of this was too much.

You end up collapsing on the floor of your room, shaking uncontrollably.

Taglist:

@randomgurl2326 @mystargirl-interlude @uther-pendragon-is-an-ass @yourdailymemedelivery @americanprometheuss @l3xi3luv @noisyalmonddreamer @nordicvxid @teaganthemorningstar @samatokisunfinishedcigarette @justtrying2getby @lvsticm @notplutos @innercreationflower @nexxus13 @kachelleee @helluvafire @haymitchabernathyslover @memeorydotcom @frostsword @meri-soni-meri-tamanna @giverosespls @honethatty12 @just-levyy @dd122004dd @nekee-lilac02 @impeterporker @nox-the-gay-nerd @redsakura101 @hopefulatrocity @eddiemunson4ever @fangirlvibez @kittimbo @zucchinimalfoy @sleepy-roman @secretsicanthideanymore @writerofadream @finnysmusic @mayonesavegana @lilifl0wer @finnickodaddy @abbersreads @fox-bee926 @ginger-swag-rapunzel @isasalom @yizhoutv @livingdead-reilly @imaegonstargaryenswife0 @faephoria @omwtkydttfym @iris1587 @sarcasm-and-stiles @10ava01 @impossessedbyjeongyeon @littleanubis21 @scorpiolystoned

*if the tag didn’t work please check your settings to make sure other blogs can tag you

#hunger games #finnick odair #hunger games fic #the hunger games #finnick odair x reader #finnick x reader #finnick odair angst #finnick angst #finnick #thg finnick #mockingjay part 2 #the feral one #avoxrising

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arcadia-of-pluto · 7 months ago

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Twist of Fate; Chapter Seven

Pairings; LADS OT4 X reader

Word Count; 2,876

Themes; isekai, eventual smut

Rating; 18+ for swearing and some mature context

Notes; you have a slight existential crisis, a kiss (but it doesn't get too intense unfortunately), another Xavier-centric chapter with a small cliffhanger, also a reminder that 💛 is Xavier! Also, I accidentally posted this so I guess y'all are getting this chapter early 🤷🏻‍♀️

Prev || Next

Masterlist

I would also like to mention, once more, that the reader isn't aware of anything relating to Sylus. Just his looks, the appearance of his evol, and all of that. Think of her as all of us during Sylus's trailer release! Even though she doesn't know anything, the story will go as it does in the original story. I'm definitely not creative enough to change any of that, but there will be major differences after we finish the final chapter (in-game, chapter eight)!

You have one more day of freedom before you enter the Nest as bait. How will you spend it?

You woke up a bit later than usual, wanting to spend as much time with Estelle in bed as possible before you had to leave her for an unspecified amount of time. You hope she remembers you. After you make yourself something to eat and give Estelle her food, you check up on your flowers. The bluish pink flowers sat in a vase you had made at a pottery class with Zayne. Your thumbprints in the shape of a heart and the vase was glazed in the colour arctic blue, which was a beautiful light blue. The vase was sitting next to the fox Xavier got you and the painting Rafayel made for you.

You decide to lounge around the apartment today, unwilling to go outside and do anything since you knew today would be your last day of freedom. You were honestly worried, after tomorrow you were in the dark on what comes next. Your gaze flitting across the notes you made of the past and near future, hoping to come up with a nice game plan for your next decisions. You could tell the other guys you know about your past lives, but if you don't know everything then what's the point? You knew Rafayel would throw a fit if you didn't remember everything. Zayne doesn't really remember or, at least, you're not sure. Most of Zayne's past life you're in the dark about since you never got his cards. For Rafayel, you know two specific instances of past lives but the bigger one where he was the god of the sea? You only know part of it. You never got those cards either. With Xavier, you know of both lives- one more so than the other. You know he's Lumiere, the man who saved the main character as a child and protected Linkon during the Chronorift Catastrophe..you also know he's quite jealous of himself. Any time Lumiere is mentioned, he gets jealous.

But Sylus? Nope, you know nothing. Besides his looks, that he's the leader of Onychinus, and what his evol looks like. That's all you know. And you think you remember a crow, but you could be mistaken because of meeting Mephi at the animal shelter.

You know you need the aether core at the auction, but you don't recall why. Maybe to help your heart? You don't dare ask because it would look weird if you were intent on finding something, but forgot why you needed it. And after that? You assume winning Sylus’ heart like you have with the others. So he can't be a real bad guy if he's a love interest. You've read theories that the Ever corporation, which is the biggest company in the world- branching from biotech to aerospace to evol energy and even international trade- might be evil or working with Onychinus, but that's the only lead you have. You'll just have to figure it out as you go along.

You put on the TV and laze around with Estelle for most of the day until you step outside to sit on your balcony to watch the sun set.

Your phone buzzes and you look down to check it, seeing a text from Xavier.

💛 :”whatre u doing outside this late?”

A smile tugs at your lips and you tell him that you're watching the sunset to which he doesn't respond. Instead his response comes in the form of a figure hopping down from the floor above you and grabbing onto the concrete wall of the balcony. “Watching it together would be better than watching alone.” He says, reaching out toward you and you grab his hand, tugging him fully onto your balcony.

“You scared the hell out of me, Xavier.” I say, looking up at the sky. “Give me a warning next time, please?” “I'll try my best.” He smiles, propping his arm up on your shoulder. “Aren't you nervous about tomorrow?”

“Ah…a little bit.” You look down at your feet with a small sigh and decide to sit down in a chair. “I'm nervous, but also anxious, but also I don't know what to expect. I have a plan and I know it'll work, but I'm unsure of where to go from there.”

“Well instead of worrying about it, how about you just go with the flow?” He crouches down next to you since you only had one chair, he rests his chin on your knee as he looks up at you. “Don't stress about what hasn't happened, just focus on right now and you can worry about the future when it comes.” You rest your hand in his hair and smile, tilting your head back to look up at the sky. “You know, you talk like an old man.” Your thumb brushes against his forehead, “but…I don't mind it.”

“Besides watching the sunset, I know of another way to calm down. Do you want to hear about it?” Xavier asks, his hand reaching up to cup your cheek. His thumb gently brushes against your fully healed scar and your eyes flutter closed for a moment. “Have you tried it with other people and that's how you know it works?” You tease with a raise of your brow. “How do you know it'll work, huh?”

“Well… you won't know unless we try.” He stands back up, resting one hand on the armrest of your chair. His other still on your right cheek as he leans forward to rest his forehead against yours. “May I?” He asks and you go to nod, but remember before that he told you to speak. “Yes,” you say before adding softly under your breath, “please.”

Xavier's eyes close as he closes the distance between you, his lips gently brushing against yours before fully connecting. He doesn't try to deepen the kiss, leaving it as a soft, yet intimate moment between you both. After a few moments, he breaks from the kiss and leaves a few scattered kisses across your face. His final stop was at your scar, his lips brushing along the scar from the top of your eyebrow all the way to your cheekbone. Your body immediately jerks in surprise at the touch since you realized your scar was rather sensitive. “Better?” He whispers, going back to resting his forehead against yours. His ears as red as yours probably were.

“Thank you.” You say softly, cupping his cheek and you rub your thumb back and forth across his cheekbone. A loud meow coming from behind you both finally breaks the moment and allows Xavier to pull away from you. “It seems like Estelle was jealous.” He chuckles, picking up the large cat with ease. “It looks like she's worried about her mommy.”

“She'll be fine because she'll have her daddy looking after her while I'm gone.” You say nonchalantly, not noticing the blush that spread across Xavier's cheeks or the way he buried his red face into Estelle's fur. “You really have a way with words.” He chuckles, shaking his head.

“We missed the sunset!” You realize, quickly standing up as you whine. “Damn it.”

“We might've missed the sunset but didn't we make a better memory in place of it?” Xavier muses, glancing over at you with a soft smile. “I guess we did.” You reach over to pet Estelle behind the ears and Xavier takes the chance to say, “Be safe tomorrow. Promise me.”

“I can't make any promises, Xav. You know that.” You sigh, hugging both him and Estelle. “But just know I'll do my best to come back in one piece. I can promise that. I'm not going anywhere any time soon.” You murmur into his chest and rest your forehead against it.

“That's…” Xavier lets out a heavy sigh and gives you a forced smile before he nods, “That’s enough for now.”

D-Day

Finally, it's Hunting day. Your last day of knowing what comes next. You spent most of the night tossing and turning, mulling over what would happen and worrying over getting hurt, but you felt a bit better now. Especially as you changed into your clothes for the day. In the game, the main character showed up at the Nest in her uniform and while that would be the best kind of bait, it seemed impractical. If you're trying to be bait, wouldn't being obvious bait deter people? If you're too on the nose, people might think it's a trap. So instead, you opted to put on a strappy, red ruffled shirt that was tucked into a white skirt. You added a belt and you set your red low heels by the door. You spray some perfume and spend a few minutes getting ready to look your best.

A stylish outfit is a good weapon for a woman. That and your actual weapon in its holster under your skirt. You shrug on an expensive black jacket, one of the only things you own that wasn't in game, to hide your obvious weapon. You weren't sure when the right time would be to leave so you decided to have your last meal. Well, it wouldn't be your last meal but it definitely felt like it. After you ate, you'd leave for the Nest to meet up with Rafayel. Your last message to him being ‘Meet me at the Nest and show me how to fish.’ to which he replied that ‘the biggest fish come out at night.’ So you assume 10-11pm would be an appropriate time to leave?

You still have time today so what were you going to do?

You took a few more notes on what to expect after and made sure the tiny tranquilizer was in your pocket. The antidote vial sitting on your kitchen island ready to take before you leave. You double, no triple, no quadruple checked that you have everything and spent a few hours anxiously pacing back and forth and petting Estelle. You were never good at waiting, especially when you were anticipating something.

You decide to leave at 10pm, giving you an hour to get to the Nest, which makes sense since you'd be walking. You down the vial, tossing it in the garbage as you head toward the door. You slip your shoes on and lock the door behind you after feeding Estelle for the night.

Honestly with all this walking, you should probably just bite the bullet and learn how to drive since you already have a license in this world. But driving is scary and you have bigger issues to deal with right now so that'll have to come later.

As you walk through Azure Square, you pin your ‘family’ crest to your jacket, trying to make sure that not all of Jeremiah's hard work went to waste and even though you have your hunter's watch on, it is covered by your jacket sleeves so you assume it'll be fine. A pretty bait is what you're planning to be tonight, no need to go too overboard with it. You enter the Nest and it just looks like your average nightclub. People were standing and drinking, some slightly dancing to some music or talking amongst themselves, not many people were at the bar though, besides the bartender.

As you look around, your vision is blocked by someone stepping in front of you. “Hey there,” the man’s eyes glance at your crest as he continues, “Actually-”

“Isn't it a bit weird to do business with newcomers?” Rafayel steps into frame, practically shoving the other man out of the way as he fixes his sleeves, not even sparing the man another glance. “Come.” He loops a finger with yours as he pulls you up to the bar. “So…do you have your bait ready?” He asks, leaning his chin onto his hand.

“Mmh, I'll play their game and allow myself to be caught. Act like a clueless little worm on a tackle.” You say, nonchalantly. Not mentioning the N109 Zone since you didn't want to catch others' attention just yet. “You'll still need to cast your line though…that should be easy enough.” Rafayel drums his fingers against the bar counter before he hands the bartender a coin. He picks up an embossed card, sliding the blank side over to you. “Go ahead. Write down what you're looking for.”

You take a deep breath, nodding your head as you grab the black feathered pen that was sitting in a nearby cup. You write down ‘aether core’ and the ink disappears a few moments later. Rafayel scoops up the card to hand it to the bartender who nods and disappears into the back. “Who's he going to tell?” You ask, turning your body to face the well dressed artist. “Doesn't matter. If they're interested, you'll know.” He muses, moving his hand over to trace random shapes on the back of your hand.

“Rafayel?” He's still silent before he takes your hand, kissing the back of it. “Now, we wait for the fish to bite.” “How long?” You ask after he lets go of your hand. “Hmm..not long. The Nest lives up to its name, you know? An underground intelligence network that's well known to match supply and demand.” As Rafayel finishes his sentence, the bartender comes back with a shot glass. He places it in front of you before stepping away once more.

“And this?” You ask before assuming this means a fish has taken a bite so you reach out for it and Rafayel suddenly grabs your wrist. “Think about it first. The glass is black, that means you'll have to pay a high price and if it doesn't go smoothly, you'll be the payment instead.”

“Well, being the payment is better than sitting here and doing nothing.” You shrug, downing the shot in one go. “Since you've made up your mind, I won't stop you.” Rafayel chuckles, placing his hand on top of your head to ruffle your hair. “I hope you find the answers you seek.” He stands up from the barstool and doesn't look back as he walks away, just puts his hand up as he waves.

“Alright, I guess let's look around until the hunting starts.” You murmur to yourself, rising to your feet as you walk around the bar. You notice a board off to the side, a wanted board. You see a head shot of Lumiere who looks obviously like Xavier except with a white mask and an outfit you've never seen before. A small chuckle leaving your lips before you notice how much he's wanted for. “100 million? Geez, what did he do?” You step a bit closer to look at the other wanted posters and you only catch a glimpse of purple hair on another poster before someone runs into you.

“It's starting, it's starting.” The drunken man excitedly mumbles to himself as he walks further into the crowd.

The lights suddenly shut off and a modified OTTO patrol bot rose up from a podium in the center of the room. The circular robot flies high until a voice booms from it, “There's a price to pay when a wish is granted! Will you be the hunter or the hunted tonight?” The robotic screen was a deep shade of red, the camera on it shaped like an eye. “Hunting day will now…commence.”

As your gaze lands on the eye, you feel your blood run cold. This…this reminded you of the red eye from your nightmares but you couldn't put your finger on how. You decide to play it safe and try to find a place to hide but honestly, where can you hide? You're in an unfamiliar, crowded place so you're not even sure where the bathrooms are and why would you hide if the plan is to be caught in the first place?

Your thoughts are cut short as the voice says one last thing. “Now.” It's red gaze lands on you, effectively spotlighting you to everyone in the crowd. “Shit.” You mutter to yourself as a few people in the crowd walk toward you.

“There she is…we've been looking for you.” One person says and another one chimes in, “This is the prey.”

You're a tad bit overwhelmed as people close in on you and as you try to dip out of the crowd, you feel your breath leave you as you're hit in the back and your knees hit the ground hard. “Hey-” you say, trying to turn toward the person and elbow them in the gut but they grab you by your hair and hold a vial in front of your face. “C-003, a neurotoxin. If you're smart, you won't put up a fight.”

You sigh, head hanging down and your hair covers your face to hide your smile. At least everything still went according to plan. Now what comes next is a complete mystery. Your smile leaves your lips as you feel the butt of a gun hit your head and you fall to the ground.

I'm keeping the extra spaces in this chapter to show a comparison, so just let me know which you prefer and I'll keep doing it for the up-coming chapters! Also, this won't be a cliffhanger for long since I'll also be posting chapter eight today. I decided to spoil y'all 🩷

I do want to add that I change up mc's dialogue compared to what she says in-game sometimes because I don't like how it's worded or I don't like specific actions she does (like shaking Mephisto, you'll see). I also make comments on her stupid actions- like her trying to hide in the original chapter or wear her hunter's uniform as if she wants to scream to the Nest, "I'm a hunter!! Please, take me!" Instead of being more low-key and under the radar.

Taglist; @orphicmeliora

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