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thisisarcanereverie · 2 months

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When the World Went to Shit (Joel x Reader) Chapter 8!

Joel Miller x FEM! Reader

A/N: this is a SPOILER WARNING, this contains spoilers from the series in general.

A/N: I am so sorry for the almost 1 year delay on this chapter life has been insane. If you want more details go to my Archive to see.

(All my other links to my masterlist and archive)

WARNINGS: Canon level of violence, swears, Joel is sad, talks of grief, PTSD, brief mentions of gore, Eventual Smut, pining (on both ends), grumpy idiots in love, reader is in her late 30's to early to mid 40's. Major character deaths. DISCLAIMER NO CHARACTERS/GIFS/PICS USED ARE MINE.

Summary: 20 years later after the world went to shit you, Joel, and Tess have to take 14 year old Ellie to the Firefly base outside of Boston QZ. What was supposed to be a simple plan turned into something much more complicated.

Prev. Chapter

It wasn’t long until Joel woke you up, you couldn’t have been asleep for longer than 30 minutes before you felt Joel’s hand gently nudge you awake.

“Gotta go Doc,” you hear him say as you blink the blurriness away, “Trucks have stopped moving and we’re losing daylight.” With a grunt you accept his hand as he pulls you to your feet, ignoring the initial dizziness to suddenly being upright. Joel is generous enough to help you regain balance until he was sure you wouldn’t fall over, you tried to ignore how warm and worn his hands were, and how they seemed to fit perfectly within yours.

“Just hold on to my hand,” Joel says, his eyes not leaving yours, “and try not to fall behind.” you simply nod as your hand remained in his, not finding it in you to fight him on this. His bare palm was warm and rough against yours, now your hands weren’t soft by any means, but his were different. His had been rough for years, even before the outbreak from the army and hard work, however they felt safe to you, and that scared you more than you thought it would.

“Alright,” you hear Joel say, “let’s go.” and with that you hurried out the door, his one hand gripping yours firmly while the other held onto the gun, ready to shoot if necessary. You three made it across the street and into a dimly lit alley, one that you probably would’ve avoided twenty years ago. It was there that Joel slowed down from a run to a brisk walk, and began looking around for what you assumed to be a door or window to climb through. It wasn’t long until you found one, the wall covered with graffiti and one door next to a vent. “Here,” Joel quietly pointed, as he rushed you and Ellie to the door. You let his hand go and leaned against the wall instead as he tried to open the door. You watched as Joel struggled with opening the door, fuck, it’s locked. You looked at the vent, it wasn’t too bad, it wasn’t too terribly small but neither you or Joel would be able to fit through there. A small sneeze alerted you to Ellie, who just stood there watching Joel get more and more violent with the door. You looked at Ellie for a bit, she was on the short and smaller side of fourteen; then you looked at the vent. Ellie was too short to reach it by herself but if you and Joel lifted her up then she could probably easily go through it. The only problem you could think of was that you didn’t know what was inside. There could be a clicker in there for all you knew or worse, other people. But as you look over to Joel who had made no progress with the door, you resigned yourself to the fact that there was no other choice.

“Ellie,” you called over to her, you saw the young girl look at you and walk to your side. You pointed to the vent above you, “do you think you can fit in there and unlock the door?”

“Yeah,” Ellie said with no hesitance, “but I’ll need a boost.”

“Joel,” you call out for him, you see the peppered haired man stop before turning his attention to you, “I’m gonna need help boosting her up.” you see his face scrunch up in confusion at first before finally getting the picture.

“Are you sure?” he asked.

“There’s no other option,” you said, “she’ll be alright.” You hoped you sounded convincing, for the most part you were sure that she would be alright, Ellie was tougher than she looks. You knew that. Still though, you couldn’t help but worry a small amount, despite her loud mouth and the corny pun jokes that made even your eyes roll you’ve come to care about her (at least a little).

Joel gave you one more look around to see if there was another way before sighing and walking towards where you and Ellie stood. “You’re sure you can help lift her?” He asked.

“I’m a kid,” Ellie sasses, “not an elephant.”

You swear you hear him say something under his breath before he gets on one side of Ellie and you on the other. He grabs her one foot and you the other as you both lift her up to the small opening, she was lighter than you anticipated. Once through the opening you see Ellie crawl before a silent thunk.

“Ok,” you hear her say on the other side of the wall, “I’m in, I’m going to take a look around first.”

“Ellie,” Joel says, you don’t take your eyes off the opening but you can imagine the look he has on his face right now. The big brown sad look he gets in his eyes every time he’s worried, his knuckles turning white slightly from gripping the handle of his gun a little too tight in case he needs to use it immediately. It’s a thing you’re catching him doing more and more often. Suddenly you both hear a clanking sound from the door, as you take a few steps in that direction you hear him mutter a few curses before it opens to reveal Ellie, no worse for wear.

“Where would you be without me?” Ellie smiles cheekily, you pretend not to see how Joel’s broad shoulders sag a little before moving past her.

“By now Wyoming.”

You chuckled a little before ruffling up her hair before moving past her, “you walked right into that one kiddo.” You hear her mutter something under her breath, not too unlike the man ahead of you before letting the door shut. The noise echoing slightly in what appears to be an abandoned garage beneath the building or perhaps this is where the maintenance workers worked you weren’t quite sure about it other than it had surely been ransacked and abandoned. You were not likely to find anything of use like food or ammo, something you were sure you were running low on by now considering all of your supplies were destroyed during the crash.

You three make your way to what seemed the only door leading to the way out, B3-42 No Roof Access.

“All right,” You hear Joel say beside you, “We’ll make our way up come morning, I’ll take a look at the city and find our way out.” the door creaked as it opened and a sense of dread filled you as you realized what you had to do.

Fuck this.

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Joel POV.

His chest burns as it seems as Joel struggles to get enough air, everything hurts, even the places he had no idea could hurt. It didn’t seem like you were doing much better, you were struggling for air like him but at least it didn’t seem like your head hurt…just everything else. Fuck, how many floor had they made it up, 33? When did he get so old that climbing 33 floors feels akin to 200? He looks over to the smaller girl who, while being out of breath, didn’t look like it had winded her like you and him. It was slightly irritating, on a multitude of fronts none of which he would ever admit to. His back slid against the wall as he prays that he doesn’t have a heart attack before getting Ellie out of the city at least. He looks over at you, sitting against the wall half bent. You were breathing out before leaning back and breathing in and repeating. At first he had no idea what you were doing, and he knew that if he wasn’t so exhausted he would have had to force himself to look away from the sliver of cleavage that you bending down exposed or the sweat that made you glow somehow even in the darkness.

“Doing this helps,” you say to him, looking over at him. “Exhaling while down helps get all the air out and inhaling while sitting up opens them back up.” he must have given you a look because you then added, “it was something I picked up while studying to be a nurse,” your eyes got a strange look while a sad smile graced your features, “it came in handy a lot when…when I went jogging before the outbreak.” He doesn’t know what you're thinking most of the time, something equal parts frustrating and intriguing…what he wouldn’t give right now to know.

“Thirty three floors,” Ellie remarks, still standing, barely a drop of sweat on her, “that’s good.”

Joel and you shared a look, one that clearly said.

Damn youth.

“It’s gonna have to be,” you said, voice still breathy, “otherwise you’re gonna have to drag Joel and I up the rest of the way.” He sees Ellie make a face, if it wasn’t for the burning in his lungs he probably would’ve smiled. After a few more minutes of breathing he sees Ellie reach out a hand to him.

“C’mon” she says and at this point he is pretty sure he would rather a clicker bite him than get up.

“Gimme a minute” he breathed, his legs still aching he was almost certain that if he stood up right now his knees would give out.

“Get up, you lazy ass.”

He looked at her for a minute, silently he wondered if she had a death wish, before accepting the helping hand. He could feel the creaking and cracking of his joints as he stood upright again.

“Lazy ass” he groaned, turning to his right to see if you needed any help. Upon seeing that you’ve more or less recovered he walked past Ellie and continued. “I’m fifty-six years old, you little shit.” He hears Ellie laugh a little, he was willing to bet that if he turned his head around he would see you mocking him, and if he wasn’t so tired and ready to lay down and sleep for a couple of hours he would’ve.

It wasn’t long until they came across a glass door, one easily broken by force. One swift hit from the but of his shotgun and it shattered, at least, it shattered enough for him to reach the handle without cutting himself on the jagged edges of what remained. He entered first, in case there was danger it would hit him first instead of you or Ellie; but after it was clear that there was nothing dangerous between the four walls of what appeared to be the living room of an abandoned apartment he felt a certain stiffness in his shoulders ease a little. While looking around he took a moment, just one…just to look at you. It was clear now that whatever affects the head injury caused had subsided, however, even after reassuring himself that you were fine he couldn’t find the will to look away from you. His eyes studied the way your hair swayed as you moved around, he didn’t care about the gray streaks–in fact he found each wrinkle, each sign of aging to be beautiful on you. You wore it well, age complimented you. He wondered, though, if things were different–if there were no such things as clickers or if the cordyceps never evolved, if he would still think the same way; or if he would think of you at all.

“What now?”

He blinked and turned his gaze away from you, he must be more tired than he thought. Lack of sleep can really mess with someone's head, Joel thought.

“We will stay here for a couple of hours,” he said, adjusting the strap on his shoulder. “I’m going to scout out the rest of the apartment ... .it's a long shot but maybe there’s some supplies, see what you can find here."He was about to leave the room when he felt a hand on his shoulder, he turned to look at you, you who always seemed to study him as if you haven’t known each other most of your lives.

“You should rest,” you said, “I’ll go ahead and look around, and before you argue I’m feeling better so don’t worry about me.” and with that you walked away, no room for arguments. He grumbled something intelligible even to himself when he heard you from the other room. “Go ahead and set up camp if you’re so antsy! “ it was amazing how you could tell exactly what he was doing without having to even look at him. He grumbled something else before gathering the cushions off of chairs and sofas, making makeshift beds on the floor, dust circling around them before settling back down onto the ground. There wasn’t much in terms of blankets other than what they had on their backs, but all in all they’ve slept in worse conditions before. Or at least, you and Joel had, to be completely honest, despite all of her talking Joel still knew next to nothing about the young girl that he was protecting. He knew she liked video games, and music, but most of all she seemed to like puns. Joel knew Ellie talked a lot and despite the million words per second that seemed to escape her, but how much of that was her saying something. He had some idea of what life was like for her back in the QZ, she obviously had a friend, but figuring by the way of her not saying much the friendship didn’t end well. With the current youth growing up in the midst of this futile war, they’re more violent (feral, really), they’ve got bigger mouths and moral compasses all askew, though he really couldn’t think of one person whose moral compass had never strayed from the straight and narrow even once since the outbreak.

There’s really only enough cushions to make two beds on the ground, realistically one of them would have to sleep upright in the chair. Joel groaned as he could already feel the crick in his neck forming at the thought. But it would be better if it was him with the crick in his neck than you.

You were taking your time scouting out the rest of the apartment, or maybe it just felt that way to him, maybe you’ve only been gone for a few minutes but it felt longer to him. Everytime you’re out of his sight it feels like you’re a million miles away even though he knows otherwise. It was odd, this hold that you had on him, it hadn’t been there before, or at least he thinks it hadn’t. A lot has changed since leaving the QZ, you both weren’t exactly the same people you were when this job started, or maybe it just took this job to see what was always there? Joel wasn’t sure, and honestly, by the way his limbs ached as he gathered the bucket and grabbed pieces of shattered glass fragments he was too tired to think further on it.

He had just finished setting the alarm trap when you appeared from the other room.

“There were two cans of food and a blanket, other than that it seems like this place had already been scouted for supplies ages ago.” you placed the two cans of peas by Joel to open and handed Ellie the blanket while you assessed the camping site. He had just finished slicing the lid off of one of the cans when you turned to him.

“So where is everyone sleeping?” You asked, not wanting to overstep or assume.

“I’m sleeping right here on the chair while you and Ellie get the cushions.” Joel replied, handing the open can to you only to watch as you passed it to Ellie. That was the other thing about you that had never changed, even when the outbreak happened. You always thought of other people before yourself, sometimes Joel wished he could be more like that, other times he wished you were less like that. It would save him a lot of stress.

“That’s ridiculous,” you objected, “I don’t see why you have to get a crick in your neck while we can both just lay on one set of cushions together.” the knife slips from his hand a little before readjusting his grip.

“Someone’s gotta keep watch.” he excused, but already he could see your eyes practically roll themselves out of your skull.

“It’s cold out,” you said, “I gave Ellie a blanket cause I figured she probably wouldn’t want to be huddled together with either of us for warmth–”

“Good call.” Ellie agreed.

“And it’s not like you and I haven’t slept side by side before, or huddled together for warmth. You set up an alarm trap, it’ll wake all of us up in case someone tries to kill us before sunrise. So quit with the excuses, eat some dinner and get some sleep.”

There was nothing left to say, no more room for argument as you get the familiar stubborn look on your face that he’s learned to associate finality with. With a sigh he responded with the only thing he could, “Yes Ma’am.”

Dinner had been quiet save for the scraping of forks against the metal tin of the inside of the can. Joel had shared his with you while Ellie had a can of her own. Both of you were used to eating half portions, though if he was honest, he had only a few bites while he let you have the majority of the cans contents.

Soon enough all of you had laid down, the cushions were a little worse for wear, covered in years worth of dust and a little flat but it was better than nothing. No, it wasn’t the dust burning his eyes a little or the hardness of the floor that prevented him from sleeping. It was you, your back was to him but he could still feel you next to him, hear the gentle noise of your breathing and while you didn’t exactly smell like a bouquet of roses, you smelled faintly of sweat but the scent of the lavender and peppermint bar soap that you took from Bill and Frank’s still lingered. Joel fought back the urge to get closer to you, it was frustrating, he can’t recall the number of times he’s slept next to you and yet this was never an issue–well–he can’t really say that. There would be times when he would wake and find himself closer to you with your arm hanging loosely around his waist, he would pretend later on that those interactions never happened, or that he didn’t spend a good few minutes looking at you, watching your nose twitch occasionally and hearing your slow and steady breathing. Joel turned over until he was facing the door, careful with his movements so as to not disturb you. Joel felt silly–stupid–really, he needed to kill whatever the hell this feeling was, he was protective of you because you grew up together and were friends that was it. He couldn’t afford to have you be anything else despite what that letter to Bill had said.

Joel tried closing his eyes and putting you from his mind, but once he finally managed to put you on the backburner Ellie came into mind. She was 14, Joel couldn’t even remember what he was like at fourteen except that he was punk. Always doing something he wasn’t supposed to do like smoke or sneak a swig of beer when no one had looked. Meanwhile here was Ellie, there was no doubt that she would be a punk too, skating after dark and probably stealing gum or something small from a convenience store. Instead she’s been forced to have a gun in her hand and had to learn to survive since she came into this world. She’s only fourteen and she went from being an ordinary person to the last hope humanity has to create a vaccine so that clickers become a thing of the past. A world without clickers…would Joel even want to live in a world like that? Was there a place for him in that world anymore? Without Sarah?...Joel didn’t like to think about how similar they were. Both funny and discerning and most of all brave. Too damn brave, too damn young. In a secret, awful way he was relieved that Sarah never had to be the one behind the gun but so damn angry to be the one in front of it. His mind brought him back to that look in Ellie’s eyes, that cold and angry look she said it wasn’t her first time shooting someone.

“Hey,” he said quietly, trying not to wake you, “you up?”

“Yeah?”

“When we were talking’ bout hurting people…what did you mean it wasn’t your first time?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” There was an edge to her tone, one that clearly said to leave it alone. It was something he had to respect.

“All right,” he gave in. moments of silence pass between them, the only silence was your soft snoring…still it ate at him so gently he rolled back over to see Ellie, who was looking at the ceiling. “You don’t have to, I’m just saying it’s not fair, your age…having to deal with all this…” he trailed off, fuck you were better at this than he was. He sees Ellie turn her gaze from the ceiling to him, brown eyes filled with a sadness that didn’t suit her age.

“So it gets easier when you’re older?”

“No,” he says honestly, “not really…but still.” there was a pause, some silence between them. Honestly, killing never does get easier, it just becomes the choice you have to make in dire situations, but it doesn’t make it easier to live with.

“The reason I asked whether you’d hear the glass or not earlier is cause I’ve noticed you don’t hear too well from your right side.” Ellie said, breaking the pause, “is it because you got shot there?”

“Probably more from shooting.” he answers before turning himself in for the final time, “so if you want to keep hearing I’d stick to the knife.” he closes his eyes, once again trying to clear his mind from thoughts of you or Ellie or anything really.

“Joel?”

He hummed in response.

“Did you know diarrhea is hereditary?”

“What?” opening his eyes and wondering what the hell she was going on about?

“Yeah,” she said somberly before following up with, “it runs in your jeans.”

It was an awful joke really, it shouldn’t have been as funny as it was but still he felt the laughter bubble up from his chest and shake him a little. It hurt a little, the sensation of laughter was something foreign to him now but still, it was pleasant. After that neither of them said a word, drifting off to sleep before they had to wake up and find their way out of this city.

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“Joel.”

He groaned

“Joel”

He groaned again.

“Joel I’m gonna need you to wake the hell up right now but be calm ok?”

Slowly his eyes opened, and the first thing he saw wasn’t you but of a man, couldn’t be younger than 18 with a gun pointed at you and Ellie while another kid, couldn’t be any older than eleven stood over him, orange facepaint over his eyes as he held Joel at gunpoint. Shit.

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thisisarcanereverie · 3 months

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Cutting Ties (DARK! Moon Knight x Reader) Part 3

A/N: I know, I'm back from the dead (shocker) I'm so sorry about the lengthy delay but here it is! This is Part 3 of a 3 Part fic. (Here is Part 2!) This is also a dark fic so please DNI Minors and others.

Now if you can interact or want to, please do! Like, reblog, reply!

DISCLAIMERS/WARNINGS: kidnapping, angst (like a ridiculous amount of it), light cursing, slight suggestive content, I've never been to London or England in general so I'm going based off of what I've seen, I am also not responsible for your content consumption please be advised that this is a dark story with triggering elements, viewer discretion advised. English is my first language I just suck at it. No beta, we die like men! I do not own the picture above but i DO own the header below, it's something that I made. I might make a few others idk. Enjoy!

Summary: You're a former Widow on the run, only in London for a year you meet Steven Grant, a goofy gift shoppist. But is there more that meets the eye?

Weeks passed.

You had begun to notice a pattern, similar to the one they had before, one day it would be Marc who woke you up with turkey bacon and eggs and slept by you with your hands in his hair and then Steven would take his place the next day with oatmeal with fruit in it in the morning and smothering you at night. The only difference was that Jake had yet to show himself since the night he brought you here.

A small part of you was grateful for that but the larger (angrier) part of you wanted to see him again, if only to scream at him. However, you had to play this right, you had been working on both Marc and Steven on going to the doctor. You were careful, you knew if they said the wrong thing they wouldn’t go, so you played the part of loyal and dutiful girlfriend each day with a smile on your face and a calm, nurturing voice. Even your words were carefully thought out and rehearsed in advance, every time you mentioned the doctor you didn’t use isolating words like “you” and “me” or “I” instead using words that resembled unity and empathy (something they both had lacked in their childhood) such as “we” and “us”. With every sugared word you swallowed bile and chewed every insult into the insides of your cheeks. The Red Room was a vile place and you resent it with all that you are, but as you find yourself in this situation you couldn’t help but be thankful for their lessons in mental and emotional manipulation. Without them you don’t know what you would’ve done.

However, as you lay there with Steven’s arm around your abdomen and your gaze fixed on the calendar that hung on the wall in front of you, you hope you can hang on another forty-eight hours, the day of the appointment. You purposely made it for a day. It would be Steven in charge of the body. He was easier swayed and manipulated than Marc. He would let you go with him to the appointment, he needs you at the appointment. You’re his angel, his love, you would hold his hand as he tells the doctor how badly he sleeps and as the doctor writes the prescription you’ll excuse yourself. It can’t be before the doctor writes the prescription, Steven will get nervous and start looking for you sooner rather than later, as the doctor writes the prescription however the appointment will essentially be over but not quite. He will have to sit there and get the prescription and go to check out where they will have him make another appointment for a check in with the doctor before finally having time to look for you in the stalls. It gives you thirty minutes give or take to escape the building without being detected and stealing a car to get to the next town over where you’ll call your ID guy. If the ID guy proves to be a bust you know Yelena was always on the lookout for ex-black widows and she might help you like Natasha did the last time you needed to disappear. The plan was complicated, sure, it required perfect timing and a shit ton of hope and luck, but it was all you had. You were no stranger to seducing, manipulating, and betraying. They were second nature to you, like a coat you’ve left in your closet for so long but it still fits like you've never abandoned it at all. Still though, you’ve never betrayed someone you had loved before, and the guilt at the thought of Steven’s confused and distraught face like the one he had at the apartment was almost enough to kill you. Steven was relatively innocent in all of this, this wasn’t his plan it was Jake’s. It wasn’t his fault that they shared a body. Still, freedom comes at a price and Steven, Marc, and Jake would never allow such a luxury.

You find yourself slipping sometimes, finding yourself thinking it wouldn’t be so bad. That this life is exactly what you wanted to begin with, having your cake and eating it too. But you reminded yourself that this life was given to you without choice. That these men might love you in their own way, but all they want in the end is to possess you, to keep you whether it would be willingly or not, with chains or with vows.

It was later than usual, you knew you needed to sleep. You need all the energy you can get, after escaping in a few days you will probably miss the bed seeing as you don’t know where you’ll be but in either case you doubt you’ll be sleeping with a quilt or a fluffy pillow for a while. You try to sleep, counting sheep proved fruitless and the warmth of Steven’s chest on your back caused your body temp to rise to an uncomfortable degree. But you tried to remain still, you’ve been under worse torture than restlessness and uncomfortable heat, you should be fine.

…

You were wrong.

Gently you tried to scoot away from him, hoping to catch some sort of reprieve to no avail. Tried extending your limbs to the cooler parts of your shared blanket in order to cool at least some part of you down but that only helped little, only one foot managed to break free from the too warm confines and that helped significantly but sleeping like that felt too weird (too many horror movies with Jake). You let out a little frustrated huff, your attempts to cool off were met with failure. You were so caught up in trying to cool off you failed to notice the slight stir in the man beside you until you felt his breath next to your ear.

“Trying to escape again mi carissima?”

Suddenly, you no longer felt the need to cool off. Instead chills ran down your spine as the urge to hurl crawled its way to your throat. Your body went stiff as you felt him move from your side to leave the bed. You avoided looking at him, the all too familiar feeling of fear and rage made you hesitant to gaze in his direction. You contemplated reaching towards the nearest object and throwing it in his direction. But you looked at the calendar instead, freedom was two days away, you can’t ruin it now by revealing your true feelings. So with a deep, shaking breath in you sat and mustered up all the love and tenderness you could as you gazed at him.

“I haven’t seen you in a while lover,” you said affectionately as you imagined all sorts of violent, Taylor Swift worthy, things you would rather say to him, “I was beginning to think you were avoiding me.” you see him looking at you with apprehension, and what you could almost mistake for guilt.

“I was giving you space,” he said as he changed out of his sweaty night shirt for a fresh one, your eyes lingered where his sleep pants hung on his hips. Damn, you had forgotten that while the man in front of you was certifiable, he was also hot as fuck, and that if he turned around you knew your eyes would follow south. You couldn’t help it, with hips and an ass like that how could you not look at it and go a little feral.

“Well,” you cleared your throat a little, forcing your eyes to remain firmly on his face despite the almost magnetic force trying to pull your gaze downwards, “that was probably a wise idea.”

“I thought I had to do this,” he says, Jake was never one to halfheartedly apologize when he doesn’t believe he should “for us.”

“Still,” you said, hugging your knees to your chest, “don’t you think you should’ve brought it up with me? To give me a choice?”

“I’m giving you one now,” he said, eyes turning to you for the first time in weeks, “I wasn’t acting right before. I was angry and scared, you were going to abandon us like we didn’t matter. You weren’t even going to tell me the truth, you were going to leave that very night. I became rash, and crazy, and…” his eyes cast down towards the bunched up shirt in his hand, “I hurt you.” He tossed the soiled shirt into the laundry basket before turning his gaze back to you, “So I’ve been staying away, remaining a fly on the wall as I watched you with Steven and Marc. Punishing myself by seeing you but never touching you.”

“If I didn’t know any better,” you said with anger rumbling in your chest, “I would almost call the tone in your voice remorse.”

“I apologize for hurting you,” he states moving to the side of the bed where he laid moments before, before sitting the mattress sinking with him slightly. “I regret that deeply but I don’t apologize or regret bringing you here.”

“Then what the fuck are you doing?”

“I am giving you a choice,” he said, eyes bearing into you, “now that you’ve lived here for a while, seen what our life can be like. Will you stay?”

What?

Your eyes dart between his as your mind struggles to come up with any alternative motives he has behind this. He could be luring you into a false security, be sadistically playing with your feelings as a way to punish you further for trying to leave them behind.

“What would you do if I went?”

“I’d follow you,” he says with no hesitance, “I’d follow you anywhere mi carissima, from desert to tundra I’d follow you faithfully and without complaint.” his hands hesitantly grab yours, “I can handle myself, and so can Marc and surprisingly so can Steven. You don’t need to worry about us in a fight, but I will not force us to stay here. The choice is yours.”

There was a lot to think about, there were many contradictory feelings swirling inside of you. A mix of shock, anger, and the tiniest glimmer of hope were the most prominent. You see his eyes and know he’s being honest. He won't force you to remain in this house they’ve built just for you, but he won’t let you leave him. Though, looking back you guessed you never did want to leave them anyways. You were going to leave to protect them and now that you know they were more than capable of protecting themselves…you weren’t sure. You could always lie and manipulate them further, then leave like you had planned to do since you got here. But you could also stay…you don’t know.

“Do I have to decide now?”

“No,” he assured, “I won’t force you to,” he grabbed the spare pillow and throw blanket at the end of the bed, “I don't want you to get overheated again so I’ll sleep on the couch. So, don’t worry about making any decisions right now and try to get some rest…goodnight.” and with that he left. Leaving the door open behind him and leaving you in a state of shock and disbelief. You knew eventually you would have to see him again, he was a part of them but you’d never imagine it would go like this. You kind of imagined he would have the same look in his eyes like he did when he stabbed a needle in your neck, to act insane and possessive and obsessive and hold you hostage with no choice in sight. Except he just gave you one, something to ponder the next two days about.

Dread fills you as the decision lies in front of you. Waiting for you to make a choice.

Needless to say, you didn’t get any sleep that night.

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

The past two days passed in a blur before you were finally seated next to Steven as he answered the doctors medical questions regarding his overall health. Marc and Steven seemed to have calmed down slightly in terms of spending every minute with you and never letting you out of their sight. It was odd, and now you were conflicted. After Jake’s sudden (and brief) visit your mind had been running a million miles trying to figure out what angle he could be playing. Was this psychological warfare? Was he testing you?

You excused yourself to the bathroom as planned once the intake was over, mentally your mind began counting down from thirty minutes as you stepped into the bathroom. As expected there were no cameras here in the women’s restroom, which was to your benefit, along with a window. It was smaller than you had expected but it was large enough for you to crawl out of. You were quick to silently click the lock on the door leading to the bathroom before you went to one of the sinks to turn the faucet on. Opening the window and crawling through was bound to make some noise and the rushing water was going to mute some of the noise you would be making. As your hand reaches for the hot and cold knobs you pause. Time was ticking away by the second, every minute you stood there undecided was a minute you could’ve had to get away. Yet here you were. Were you actually considering staying with them?

It’s horrible, what a few acts of kindness can do. Giving you space, giving you a choice…and you’re a mess. Wasn’t that what you wanted to begin with? A choice? There are only two ways that this plays out, you know this. On one hand you go, you turn the knobs and you run, like you’ve always done, alone. There was no guarantee that Yelena would pick up, there was no guarantee that you wouldn’t be thrusted right back into the life of a mercenary, there was no guarantee that doing this would grant you the freedom you’ve fought so hard and yearned for so long for. Was it freedom if all you did was hide and run? What would happen if you stayed? Jake, Marc, and Steven were an unpredictable risk. Jake could be lying, you wouldn’t put it past any of them to lie and act in order to keep you, even Steven…on the other hand, maybe this was a pattern of yours. Maybe all you ever do in any situation is run, run away from every complex thought and feeling and you never turn back. Maybe the reason you never felt free was because you weren’t meant to be. You can’t recall the number of times you’ve spent countless night staring at the ceiling instead of sleeping, with gut wrenching guilt as you replay all the terrible things you’ve done as a widow; the people you’ve killed, countries you’ve lead into war that orphaned children, secrets you’ve both hidden and exploited. There were nights you’ve asked for some sort of punishment that would ease the guilt that was slowly killing you. Maybe this was it, maybe this was the punishment.

Staying, knowing full well that this time there is no evil man behind you pulling your strings, that there was no one to blame but yourself for the outcome. Knowing that your last meaningful act of free will was to throw away the autonomy you had treasured as if it was something solid and tangible in exchange for a gilded cage with no means of escape and constantly wondering if you made the right choice.

And never knowing if you did.

Your shoulders slumped as the weight of it weighed heavily. What was it going to be?

Freedom in exchange for redemption, or redemption in exchange for your freedom.

You’re not as sly as you think you are–or–as you used to be. Jake had your plan figured out the moment you suggested Marc see the doctor for ‘sleeping medication’. He had to hand it to you, your manipulation tactics were impressive, the collective ‘we’ and ‘us’ and adoring looks and gentle touches were truly inspired.

You silly, silly little spider…did you really think anything that Jake had told you was true?

////////////////////////////////////////////

Yes, he admits he may have fucked it up a little by going a little bat-shit crazy and sticking a needle into your pretty neck and forcing you into a home that wasn’t finished quite yet. But he made up for it, he let you get this far with your little trick. It was the least he could do, along with offering a fake choice. You weren’t even going to make it to the nearest payphone (which is surprisingly still functional given its obsolete status) before he dragged you back home kicking and screaming if that’s what it took.

Still, though, he doesn’t like you kicking but as for the screaming (well, given the right circumstances he loves to hear you scream, especially when it’s his name)

So instead of outwardly calling your little game out, he decides to play along, acting none the wiser and giving the biggest performance of his life.

He knows you like to think yourself a master manipulator, but the truth was that without the constant threat of death and Dreykov’s mind control, your manipulation skills have gotten rusty. A once sharp and carefully polished tool now dull and worse for wear. Against easily manipulated fools like Steven and (sometimes) Marc, it’s effective. But he was the only one who was truly your equal. Jake was the only one who truly understood you. Steven had false memories to comfort him and while Marc and Jake lived with the unhappy ones, and while he wasn’t perfect, at least their dad never forgot Marc’s birthday. Jake had no one, had nothing–not even his own body! Much like you did as a widow. You were the only person who could possibly understand him and by extension he was the only one to understand you.

There is a strange power in being understood, it’s terrifyingly intoxicating, especially to one who is never understood. Jake had never been particularly interested in salvation or redemption in general, but you became his religion, the altar where he worshiped and the light that baptized him. Worshiping you was as easy as breathing, like it was what he was made to do. So he listened devotedly to every syllable from your mouth and he made a list of all you said.

Jake had wanted to marry you before showing you the home he had built, (well him, Marc, and Steven), he had it all planned out, the only thing he didn’t plan for was that night. Suddenly his light was taken from him, his comfort, his home, his life was stripped away from him before he could utter a word.

That would drive any man insane.

He made a few questionable choices, sure, but he paid for them and now here was his reward. Driving back from the doctors with a prescription he doesn’t intend on picking up with you in the passenger seat. Willingly and holding his hand.

He smiles, ignoring the way your eyes shine with unshed tears and how your fingers tremble ever so slightly as he pulls your hand for a kiss. None of that matters, you’re with him now.

With no chance of escape.

Ever again.

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thisisarcanereverie · 9 months

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It's about World Went to Shit. You started a story, but you don't have the talent to finish it? We are waiting for the continuation. Did you tell us to fuck off?

Psst, hey nonnie......the Anonymous tag is for horny and embarrassed not hate.

I'm sorry that my burnout has caused you inconvenience, however, that does not create an emergency on my part to continue it. My life (unlike yours apparently) does not revolve around this app and my content. I doubt that this is the first time a fic you liked got put on hiatus because of forces outside of anyone's control, I also doubt that this is your first time bullying someone like a 5th grader into getting what you want. Just in case it is, let me make a few things clear.

I love writing fics, and I will continue to do so, but in my own time.

You think you're doing something by doing this but you're not.

I have a life and responsibilities that go beyond writing fanfiction, my so-called lack of "talent" has nothing to do with it.

If you don't like waiting patiently or like accepting the fact that it may or may not get updated in a timely fashion and I am going to finish it, if only for myself. However, I will complete it when I want to. This does not mean I'm not sorry for making others who like the series wait so long, I promise those who are waiting patiently I did not intend for this long of a hiatus, however I am working on it and have half a chapter completed already. Again, a mixture of stresses from my life and writers block has caused this. I do, however, recognize that in order to avoid this particular negative attention, I should've informed the community of this accidental hiatus; since it seems as though it's so important that it garnered your special attention.

Glad we touched base, thank you.

#anon hate #ask rev

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thisisarcanereverie · 11 months

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Cutting Ties (Dark! Moon Knight x Reader) Part 2

A/N: This is Part 2 of a 3 Part fic. (Here is Part 1!) This is also a dark fic so please DNI Minors and others. (I got a little carried away with this idea Anon so thank you for the suggestion)

Now if you can interact or want to, please do! Like, reblog, reply!

DISCLAIMERS/WARNINGS: kidnapping, angst (like a ridiculous amount of it), light cursing, I've never been to London or England in general so I'm going based off of what I've seen, English is my first language I just suck at it. I do not own the picture above but i DO own the header below, it's something that I made. I might make a few others idk. Enjoy!

Summary: You're a former Widow on the run, only in London for a year you meet Steven Grant, a goofy gift shoppist. But is there more that meets the eye?

For as long as you could remember you were not your own. Your name, your face, your mind, your body, even your own autonomy was not your own. It had always belonged to Dreykov and to his Red Room. Then, suddenly, the very color that controlled you, freed you. The red powder burned your eyes for a moment before suddenly it felt like you could breathe again.

It was strange how one’s life can completely turn on its head in a matter of moments.

One moment you were another Widow, easily expendable and replaced and the next you were…new. At least that’s what it felt like, you no longer existed at the whim of another. You weren’t a chess piece on the board, you were now a player.

You remembered the day the Red Room fell as the best day of your life.

There were so many things you could do, there were so many possibilities.

You just weren’t prepared for the reality of it.

That despite the mind control and the lack of autonomy, you still hurt people, at the end of the day it was your finger that pulled the trigger. You would wake in the middle of the night still haunted by those faces with a red mark between their eyes. It felt like you couldn’t escape from the Red Room you concocted in your mind, that no matter how hard you tried you will always be a Widow. So instead of fighting it, you gave in.

You had offers, from SHIELD to Tony Stark himself. Which surprised you, but in the end you decided you didn’t want the spotlight on you and were a merc for a while. It was gritty, but it was work you knew well. You thought you could do it but the first time you were ordered to kill you couldn’t. They were innocent, they were just there at the wrong time. So you killed your boss instead, grabbed what you could, and left. You made enemies that day, one that would love to see your head gifted to them on a silver plate.

You called Natasha after that, you weren’t sure what else to do. You didn’t know anyone else, you were completely alone. She gave you this guy's number, said that he would help you disappear and with whatever else you may need. You could feel her wink on the other end of the phone as you wrote down his information.

Since then you’ve been running, changing addresses and identities every couple of years to stay ahead of people who may want you dead. Her friend would give you new identities and you would exchange with money that you earned at jobs you would work. For a while you were content with being alone, working everyday and coming back to your place to eat food you previously were never able to eat and watching tv. Then you met Steven Grant, Marc Spector, and Jake Lockley. Then suddenly you realized how gray your life had become, how long you had merely survived and what living actually meant—even if you were merely living a lie. All at once you were no longer alone, someone held you at night and kissed your blood-soaked hands.

For the first time in your life…you felt clean.

But that had all been a delusion.

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

You woke up in pain, your head throbbed and your limbs felt weighted down, as though someone had thrown two weighted blankets on top of you. You willed your eyes to open and was greeted with an unfamiliar ceiling. You squinted your eyes as you looked toward the open window, watched as the powder blue curtains danced gently as the breeze blew in. You weren’t sure how long you’ve been asleep, last time you remember it was nighttime and….

Rain

Pinching

Jake.

You took a sharp breath in and shot up from the bed as your hand went to the side of your neck, Jake had drugged you–and from the look of things–abducted you as well. Why would he do this? Did he act alone or did Steven and Marc help him? All these questions swarmed your mind but one question stood out.

Have you been blind?

You shakily made your way to the open window, sure enough it was morning, and sure enough you weren’t in London. As far as you could tell you could be miles away from the nearest village let alone London. How long had they been planning this? To already have a second place squared away, ready, were you the first to be here or the latest addition.

“You’re up.”

You swerved your head as you looked beside you, your skin crawled and blood turned into ice as you looked at him. Upright posture, hair a little less unkempt, and a twinge of a chicago accent dripped in his voice.

Marc.

You opened your mouth to speak only for a small, pathetic squeak to sound instead of words. Your hand reached for your throat and realized for the first time how absolutely parched you were. Like you hadn’t had any water in days.

“Here,” he handed you a glass of water which you greedily accepted, you didn’t bother breathing as you chugged the glass he gave. After the soreness in your throat subsided a little and hummed to warm up vocal cords that had not been used in a while. You put the glass on the window sill and looked at him and at the tray he was previously holding. Turkey Bacon and Eggs, it was Marc's favorite breakfast, one he had made you dozens of times whenever he was sorry for something.

You were silent as you looked at him further, he wore sweatpants and a t- shirt, both clearly slept in. The tan of his skin glowed in the morning light and it looked like he ran his fingers through his dark curls once or twice. There was something unsettling about him though, one that made the hair on the back of your neck stand, something that wasn’t there before.

Those eyes.

You flinch a little as he raises a hand, only for him to retract it.

“Sorry,” he apologized, his voice uncharacteristically small. You debated on what to say, what was there to say? You had so many questions and yet you could not speak. You weren’t even sure if you were just dreaming, it almost seems like a dream. A house far away from everything and everyone, and your boys were right there with you bringing you breakfast in bed. You were partially worried that you would wake up and find yourself sleeping in a plane seat millions of miles away from them, but the other part of you worried that you would never wake up.

“How long?” you finally spoke, voice still hoarse. A moment of silence fell before he answered.

“I can’t tell you.” Marc says lowering his eyes, something he does when he has something to hide.

“Did Steven or Jake tell you that,” You fidgeted with the sleeve of your shirt.

“Neither.”

“You have to let me go,” You finally said, voice getting a little less hoarse the more you speak. “Please.”

“Stop,” He said looking at you finally with a hard look in his eyes, “Stop saying you have to leave. You don’t need to leave.”

“Yes I do,” you emphasized, you held his face in order to hold his gaze, “there are a lot of things you don’t know about me, things that I’ve lied about. That person you fell in love with isn’t me, I’ve done horrible things-”

“I know-”

“No you don’t.”

“Yes,” he said, grabbing your wrist with an intense look in his eyes, “I do.”

It was like someone had dumped a bucket of ice water on you and stuck a fork in an outlet all at the same time. There was no way he could know, at least, not everything.

“I know that you used to be a Black Widow,” he said, taking a step towards you, the grip on your wrist tightening, “you’ve killed, lied, and stole from many people including me.” his nose brushed with yours as you tried to steady your breathing.

“How could you know all that?” You asked, whispered, your mind was pounding in time with your heart as he leaned closer to your ear.

“I also know you used to be a mercenary,” you heard him whisper in your ear, his breath ghosting over the goosebumps that formed on your skin, “that’s how we met.” you stopped breathing as he leaned slightly away from you, far enough for you to look him in the eyes. Dark eyes that held the sun in them.

Oh.

The last job you went on you worked with a team, you never saw his face and he was never much of a talker. You just remember his eyes as he held a gun to you ready to shoot…only to lower the gun and let you get away.

That had been Marc.

Without a second thought you ripped your wrist from his grip and grabbed the glass laying on the nightstand throwing it at him. Your heart pounded as you made your way through the open door, sure to close and block it before he had time to reach it. You were sure by now you were on the verge of a heart attack with how loudly your heart was pounding. You could hear Marc on the other side banging the door with his fists. You had no plan, your heart was breaking all over again and your entire body has gone into a fight and flight zone. You made your way down the wooden stairs skipping every other step, unafraid of the small fall you have on the last step before you regained balance and ran straight through the front door. Even from outside you can still hear him banging and screaming, you tried to decide where the best place to run to when the banging stopped. It wasn’t in Marc's nature to give up so you look behind you, he wasn’t coming down the stairs either. What the hell?

Then you heard a familiar grunt and footsteps above you.

The open window.

All at once it didn’t matter where you ran to as long as you ran. Your feet carried you swiftly into the tree lining of the woods surrounding the house. The adrenaline coursing through your veins hid the pain of the cuts and barbs that scratched you as you pushed them aside. Your goal was to run, or to find a pointy enough stick or a sharp enough stone to throw at him, but mainly run and hide.

You weren’t sure how long you ran, all you knew was that your lungs were on fire and you couldn’t feel your limbs. You knew you couldn’t run much further, at least, not at full speed. So you went to the nearest, sturdy tree you could find and climbed, you grabbed one branch after another. The bark dug into sensitive parts of your hand but you didn’t care, you could see your arms shaking as they pulled you up to that final branch. It seemed strong enough to hold your weight and shielded enough to provide cover.

One of the things the Red Room taught you was to assess weakness and who had the advantage. Marc had the advantage when it came to muscle mass, but you had experience–granted those were mainly espionage missions that required more brains than combat prowess. You always carried a gun on you, but if he was smart (which you know he is) he took that away and was carrying it with him now.

All this time, you thought he loved you and that you were protecting him. You never even suspected the truth, he seemed so familiar and you had that gut instinct that something was up but you ignored it. All this time everything had been a lie, he didn’t love you, he was finishing the job. How long did he have his eye on you before he made a move?

Stop! You didn’t have time to mourn, you had to focus on surviving.

You halted your greedy intakes of air as you heard rustling in the leaves. Careful not to make the slightest sound as you saw him run past, calling your name. You waited until you slowly couldn’t hear the crackling of the leaves before beginning your descent. Time was of the essence, at some point Marc will come back to retrace steps, so you had to make another break in a different direction he had gone. Maybe back to the house and hotwire the beat up jeep you saw in the driveway. Once there you would make it to the second nearest village because the nearest would be the first place he’ll look, use one of those grimy old payphones to call in your ID guy.

Your feet had barely touched the ground before you felt the wind being knocked out of you as you tackled the ground. You were pinned before you could push Marc off of you, unable to do much but struggle in his grip.

“Do it,” you growled while still fighting, “I’m not going to stop fighting but if you’re going to do it, do it now.”

“Do what now?!” His eyes wide and intense, his grip becoming tighter on your wrists again.

“Kill me!” You yell, “that’s what all this has been for, hasn’t it? I killed your boss and stole a lot of money and relics from the people who hired us. A lot of different people want me dead, a lot of powerful people who can make things happen want me dead for more than this. Once you kill me you’ll have your pick of the litter. Whatever you want.” You see his brows furrow as you feel his breath ghost over your lips.

“Have you ever thought that maybe what I wanted was you?” He pecked your lips once before continuing, “that I intended to keep you for myself rather than sell you to the highest bidder.”

“Why would you do that?”

“Cause I love you,” Marc said, pinning your hands above your head with one hand while the other caressed your cheek, “I have since we met on those desolate dunes, that has never been a lie.” you can feel his heartbeat as he lays his weight down on top of you, like so many times before, as his words swirl around your head. Your first thought was that he was lying, how could he not be? Deep down, however, as you looked him in the eyes you were reminded that Marc was many things–but a good liar was not one of them.

“You can love me,” you say, “and still betray me.” you hear him let out a frustrated groan as he drops his head to your shoulder. You can feel his grip tighten before he lets your wrist go, and his weight on you is gone leaving you strangely cold. For a moment you think he’s letting you go, a foolish thought, one full of hope.

You were wrong.

No sooner had you gotten off the ground yourself, your feet were dangling above the ground as you were swung over his shoulder like you weighed nothing more than a sack of potatoes. Had this been ANY different situation your knees would be weak for a different reason.

Once again you fought, kicking and screaming. He wasn’t going to kill you, not yet, but you were honest when you said you weren’t going down without a fight. You didn’t even register entering the house until he sat you on the couch with an unceremonious plop, his hands gripping your shoulders and a frustrated look in his eye.

“What is it going to take to get you to believe me?” He said, voice low edging on a growl.

“Give me one good reason to believe that you wouldn’t give me up.” You said, eyes narrowing, “a reason that I would believe.'' There was a beat of silence, you see his brows furrowed together as his brain itches for an answer that you know he wouldn’t have. He has betrayed you and has all the reasons in the world to sacrifice you to the altar.

Then the lights starting flickering,

The hairs on your neck stood on end as you felt a shift in the air, the lights flickering and a hum of something else. Something you’ve never encountered before. Then you see the bandages wrapping themselves around Marc like snakes and his eyes were no longer the dark color you used to adore. They glowed now like moonlight reflecting off of water.

Of course.

You’ve seen the small articles in the paper passing by or clickbait news in the media about London’s vigilante who called themselves Moon Knight. You usually never paid much attention to it, you rarely were out past dark anyway why would you? Maybe you should’ve.

“If I wanted anything that they have,” You hear him say as the mask unbound itself to reveal his face, “I would’ve just taken it, and they couldn’t have stopped me.”

“You’re moon knight.” Of course the first person you fall in love with is not only a mercenary, but also a superpowered vigilante. Your life hasn’t been ordinary, why would your love life be?! You groaned in frustration as you leaned your head back against the couch, “well that explains why you always look exhausted and always came back home at weird hours.”

“You knew about that?” He asked, you gave him a deadpan look, “...of course you did.” You look at him for a moment and replayed every moment in your head leading up to this, he had a point. With these powers he really could have walked into any place, taken what he wanted, and left. He wouldn’t have needed you, but why keep you?

“Ok,” you start, “so you don’t intend to sell me or kill me or whatever.”

“I’ve been telling yo-”

“But why keep me?” You ask, “Why bring me here? Based on this house and location it is-”

“Everything you ever wanted.” Marc finished, his grip softening on your shoulders, “a small house with a sunroom, far away from everyone, a place to plant flowers and a lot more sun than what you got in the city…A home.”

“This would’ve taken at least half a year to build,” you say, “and another few weeks to a month to draft up the plans. So that means that you have been planning on bringing me here since-”

“Since fate decided to give us a second chance,” he said, “I couldn’t follow you before and lost you, trust me I tried to follow you but you were so damn good at running and hiding that I couldn’t find you. Then, one day, I see you on the bus. I was a fly on the wall, Steven was in charge, but I saw you. You have no idea how badly I wanted to talk to you, but seeing how you fled before, I knew I had to be patient. I told Steven everyday to talk to you, building him up until he eventually sat next to you.” You see him laugh a little, “I really shouldn’t have kept him up the night before, but it all turned out alright.”

He was sick, you knew this from the beginning, you just never looked below the surface of it. He needed help, something you couldn’t give him here.

“Baby,” You said softly, holding his hands as he knelt down in front of you, kissing the tops of his still bandaged covered hands, before leaning your forehead against his, you had to be calm. You had to convince him with honey and not vinegar. “Thank you so much for doing this, it must have been so much work.” You start, lowering your voice to barely a whisper, already sensing the tension leaving his body, “you must be so tired.”

“I am.”

“I’m just worried for you,” you said brushing your nose against his, “maybe we should see someone hmm? Like a specialist or a doctor, get you some melatonin or some medicine to help you sleep.” You feel him shake his head before you gently shush him, bringing a hand to cup his stubbly cheek, “just to help you sleep.”

“I don’t need them.” He says definitely, “I have you.”

“And you’ll always have me.” You promise, “let’s just call and make the appointment, I’m sure they’ll be more than happy to help.”

“No,” he mumbles quietly at first, “no” a little louder, “I don’t-”

“Do it for me?” You ask, fluttering your eyelashes and giving him a small smile, “please baby.” gently moving your hand to scratch the nape of his neck you knew he was putty.

“Ok,” he agrees.

“Ok,” you quietly repeat, trying to keep your tone even, “how about we call them right now and make an appointment?”

“No.”

“Ok,” you say, rubbing soothing circles on the back of his neck, “we don’t need to call them right now but in a short bit here, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

You breathe in, “yeah.”

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thisisarcanereverie · 11 months

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Part 2 of the "Cutting Ties" is almost done!

In case you haven't read it yet!

#askrev #x reader #x reader angst #marc spector #dark fic!

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thisisarcanereverie · 11 months

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Same here wtf??

Hi,

It’s your friendly neighbor fanfic author here. In the light of this apparent new trend of people feeding unfinished fics to AI to get an “ending,” and some people even talking about “blanket permissions,” let me just say this:

I EXPLICITLY FORBID ANYONE TO FEED MY FICS TO AI. DUDE, THAT IS ABOUT THE LEAST RESPECTFUL THING YOU CAN DO. IF YOU DO IT, SHALL YOU BE EXCOMMUNICATED FROM YOUR FANDOM AND WALK ON LEGOS BAREFOOT TILL THE END OF DAYS.

That is my anti-permission.

Thank you for your attention.

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thisisarcanereverie · 11 months

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When the World Went to Shit (Chapter 7)

Joel Miller x FEM! Reader

A/N: this is a SPOILER WARNING, this contains spoilers from the series in general.

Prev. Chapter

You woke up with a start, breathing heavily as your head begins to pound as you remember what happened.

The route you were going to take was blocked, there was no way to blow through it with the truck or move the cars and to get around it would’ve added another day to your journey. So Joel decided to go another route, one that led you into the city. At first everything seemed alright, but then there was a man on the road. He claimed to be injured but there was no blood on his clothes, no obvious signs of infection or any other bodily harm. Joel recognized the trap before you did, and suddenly he floored it; nearly running over the man who had tried to trick you. Next thing you know something smashed the windshield and Joel was losing control of the car. You remember swerving into an abandoned laundromat and Joel’s arm in front of you. After making sure Ellie was alright Joel had checked you for injuries, not even thinking of himself. You remember the worried look in his dark eyes before the gunshots started hitting the truck. You cussed as all three of you got out of the truck, you held onto your pistol as Joel grabbed the shotgun from the back. He ordered Ellie to go through the hold and not to come out until he or you called for her. Ellie seemed reluctant to leave you two to fight, you could see the argument brewing along with fear. You nodded at her, while Joel promised her none of the bullets would hit her. You’re sure that if you had said the same she still would’ve argued, but you had seen it the past few days; her and Joel were cut from the same cloth. So anything Joel said, went.

After Ellie made it past the hole he had wanted you to hide, but you refused. Instead you rose from your crouched position and began to fire, counting the bullets fired as you tried to aim. You vaguely heard Joel curse at you as he began to do the same, taking cover when needed. It all had happened in a blur, one minute you’re fighting them the next you were knocked on the ground and everything went black.

You sat up but quickly had to hold onto the floor for dear life as you tried not to fall back down as lightheadedness almost overtook you.

‘Don’t get up,” you heard Ellie say, her figure slightly blurry but whether that was due to age or concussion you still weren’t sure.

“What happened?” You asked, clutching your head, hissing a little as your fingers landed on a tender spot.

“One of them knocked you down,” Ellie explained, “you hit your head on the ground pretty hard.”

One of them.

Joel

“Joel,” You said as you tried to stand up, looking for your gun. Joel was out there alone, he needed backup.

“He’s fine,” Ellie explained, “see” she pointed over to him. He didn’t look worse for wear, a few cuts and forming bruises littering his features, but over all fine. You sighed in relief as you sat back down, your head still pounded. Something nagged at you though.

“I was all the way over there,” you said, pointing over where the hole was. Or at least, should’ve been, seeing as it was blocked by a heavy object now.

“I carried you,” Joel said, looking away from the window for a moment. “You’ve only been out for ten minutes.”

“What about the men?” you asked, your eyes narrowing on him. You saw as his eyes lingered on Ellie a moment before returning to the window and you noticed her breathing hitch. You gathered what must’ve happened in a few moments, which you guessed was a good sign. Meaning you were thinking clearly so the chances of a concussion were low. You looked at Ellie, expecting to see something in her eyes, or for her to have changed. You still remembered the first person you killed, they still haunted you in your sleep some nights. You’ve learned to recognize that look in others, the look of someone who had just killed someone for the first time. But you didn’t see that in her eyes, there was a grief in those eyes too old for someone so young. You didn’t press it, you figured Joel would tell you later or Ellie would, if they didn’t that was alright as well.

“We need to leave,” Joel said, grabbing his flashlight beside him, “We’ll go through the back, use a few back alley’s till we can get somewhere safe for the time being.” You went to stand up, only for the familiar sound of Joel’s boots to stop in front of you, you see his tanned hand and accept it. The roughness of his hands, the callouses and scars littered it. But you didn’t mind, because despite their appearance and Joel’s icy look, they were pleasantly warm.

…alright maybe you did have a concussion.

“Can you walk on your own?” Joel asked, you could feel his eyes scanning over you, watching as you lightly pushed yourself off the wall, ignoring the slight pain on your head.

“Why, you offering?” You asked with your best cheeky smile.

“You wish.” Joel said as he rolled his eyes, there was a moment where your hands lingered together for a moment, before he let go and you proceeded to follow him.

You made it a few streets over, hiding behind cars and staying in the shadows of the back alley’s you eventually make it to cover.

Another abandoned storefront, but at least the windows were covered, old newspapers covered the glass. At least you wouldn’t be seen so easily by people passing by and from what you saw on the way here, it was a good vantage point. Easily scoping out routes and ways to get to a better location. As soon as the door was locked you plopped yourself down on one of the seats available, you're still slightly dizzy but you were almost certain it wasn’t anything serious. You took in a sharp breath as your hand grazed over what you assumed to be a slight cut on the left side of your hairline. You were tempted to grab something for the pain in your bag but thought better of it. You didn’t know what was coming your way and you might need that tylenol in your bag for someone else.

However that didn’t happen as Joel must have noticed your hesitant hand leaving you bag, because the next thing you know your first aid kit was out and the older man was in front of you. He pulled one of the dusty chairs towards you and sat on it, creaking lightly as he put his weight on it. His fingers gently opened the kit in front of you and began looking through.

“Joel I don’t nee-”

“Shut up.” Joel interrupted, you were about to speak again when the look in his eyes turned all the words you were about to say into dust. “Let me help you,” he said in a low voice, “please.” You wordlessly nodded as he finally found what he was looking for apparently, something to clean the cut and the painkillers you got from Bill and Franks before you left. Not thinking you would need them so soon. It was heavy duty stuff, you had to do quite a few things you weren’t proud of in order to get that for Frank. You only took it in case something serious happened, and seeing as your only problem was some dizziness and a slight cut you went to correct Joel.

“Joel that medicine is for emer-”

“Listen if you would rather-”

“If you’d shut up for a second and let me get a word in edgewise,” You interrupted, “I was about to say it’s the wrong medicine. That right there is for major emergencies, the tylenol is right next to it.” You pointed to the other bottle, admittedly it was a well worn plastic bottle, the wrapper long since tatters somewhere so he couldn’t have known. You watch as he mutters something you couldn’t make out as he puts the pills carefully back in their plastic baggie before grabbing the plain bottle you were pointing to. He screwed the top open and handed you two round pills which you took with a swig of water from your bag. You didn’t realize how dry your throat was at that moment until you felt the semi cool liquid running down your throat. You coughed a little as you put the cap back on, you needed to conserve it. It wasn’t like there were any water bottles lying around and the nearest stream you guessed was out of the city. You quietly secured the bottle to your bag, all the while not paying attention to the man in front of you. It wasn’t until you felt his fingers gently touch the wound on your head, causing you to wince a little and bring your attention back to him. His brows were furrowed and a thin frown decorated his face, he looked angry but his hand was gentle.

“I probably don’t have a concussion,” You said as you cleared your throat, fighting off the slight flush to your cheeks, “the worst of it is the cut I probably won’t even need stitches. Just hand me some tape or something and I’ll do the rest.” You reached for the tape beside him but Joel was faster, grabbing the tape before you got to it.

“I’ve got it,” he said with gravel in his voice. You made one more attempt at grabbing the tape before you accepted his help. You tried to avoid looking at him, but when he was close enough for you to smell the earthy scent on his skin and the slight cedar scent of his shirt it was hard not to. His lips slightly parted, his tongue occasionally darting out to wet them. The crows feet beside his eyes crinkle ever so slightly as he narrows them, and the fact that his hands, despite being war worn and capable of such violent acts, were gentle with you. You’ve seen Joel in various stages in 20 years, you’ve seen him miserable and depressed and angry and violent. But you’ve never seen him gentle, or hopeful, and ever since taking this job with him and meeting Ellie. You’ve seen sides of him you thought were long dead. He had this certain look about him when he talked to her, it was softer almost.

“There you go,” Joel said, you cleared your throat and hoped he hadn’t noticed you staring. You saw him look apprehensive at his handiwork. “It’ll hold until we can leave, once we’re in the clear you can fix it up.”

You nodded as Joel went from sitting in front of you to tentatively look out the window. Lifting a small piece of newspaper to glance through.

“Looks like they’re checking out the apartment buildings first.” He observed, “but they’ll be coming through here soon enough.” He walked away as Ellie approached where he was and looked out as well.

“There’s a really tall building, like, four blocks away.”

“Yeah I saw it.”

“So we’re heading towards that one then,” Ellie said as she looked away from the window.

“As soon as we don’t hear a truck, we move.” Joel sat down in front of you again, “as fast as we can.” You watched him look over at you, “go rest, I’ll take the first watch and I’ll wake you when it’s time.”

“Joel,” You began until Ellie stepped in.

“You got your fucking bell run dude,” Ellie said as she slide down the floor, “Sleep.” Despite her hard tone you could see the concern in her eyes, you let out a sigh as you complied. The trucks probably will stop for a brief moment in between shifts which seems like it won’t be for a while. You get off the chair and make a makeshift sleeping area with your sleeping bag and your coat. The ground is hard and cold, but you’ve slept in worse conditions. You do your best to ignore the chill of the floor as you slowly feel yourself sinking deeper and deeper into the arms of sleep.

//////////////////////////////////////////////////

Joel P.O.V

He looked at you while you slept, it didn’t take as long as it usually did, probably because of the head wound.

A heavy, sickening weight settled deep in his guts the longer he looked at you and the girl who sat next to you. Ellie had saved you, he had been too slow, too old, and too damn deaf. He didn’t hear the other one, it wasn’t until your body had fallen that he heard him. But Joel had been too slow, so the boy got the drop on him, all at once he couldn’t breathe as he was pinned to the ground by his neck. His kicking and struggling did no good to get the boy off of him. Had it not been for the dark haired girl, he probably would’ve died.

Still though, despite the world being as fucked up as it is, someone at her age should never have had to do that, or hear it. She didn’t kill him, but she might as well have. The man was injured, there was no way he would’ve survived longer than an hour tops, so Joel did what he’s always done, what he had to do. He sent Ellie back through the hole and told her and took her gun. He figured she nabbed it back at Bill and Franks before they left, it was the only time she could’ve gotten her hands on one. Once the small girl was behind the wall he turned to the man, he couldn’t have been older than 20. It wouldn’t be the youngest he’s killed, he watched as the boy tried to barter for his life. Giving him the knife he had on his person, promises that Joel knew deep down he wouldn’t keep, and as Joel raised the barrel of the gun and aimed the boy called out for his mother. Joel shot him before he could plead more. Joel has heard begging before, usually they begged for their lives or to god, but occasionally you would get one that would plead for their mother. Those ones got to him the most, but he couldn’t think about it for too long.

He remembered putting the gun in his pocket before turning to you. Joel didn’t hesitate before picking you up, you were warm despite laying down on the cold floor. He carried you over to the front door where Ellie was waiting for him. After setting you down inside it wasn’t long until you had woken up. But the minutes in between were silent as Joel stared at you, there was a nagging feeling in his gut. One that was heavy and burdensome, a million thoughts ran through his head. He worried that you would have a concussion when you woke up, he wanted to curse out loud about the supplies those fuck heads costed him, but one things kept coming into mind. The young girl beside you, she looked slightly shaken but nothing beyond that.

When you woke up, he was expecting you to yell at him for being too slow or too deaf. But he was surprised when you called his name instead, he looked away before you could catch him staring.

Joel didn’t want to admit what was happening to him, he didn’t want to admit that what Bill wrote in that letter was true. You were family, had been since the outbreak happened, same with Tess. But, he guessed, even Tess knew that wasn’t all.

Joel tried to busy himself with getting you and Ellie to a safer location, then with mending you up like you’ve done for him many times before. After the initial protesting and some guidance from you, he had patched you up decently enough. Joel would be lying if he said he was completely focused on the wound on your head. He tried to be gentle, not wanting to hurt you further, but he lingered. He had forced himself to look at the wound, but the temptation to look further was gnawing at him. To linger longer than he was, to wipe his thumb over where a droplet of water rested on your lip, to press his forehead against yours and breathe you in. the smell of ivory bar soap and the faint hint of pine and something floral, the same scent that haunted some of his dreams only it was tinged with an unmistakable metallic scent.

After surveying the area and getting you to sleep, he looked over at the dark haired girl for the first time since the laundry mat. Her eyes were steady and dark as she took a seat next to you. Joel didn’t say it outloud, but Ellie seemed to like you. More than you seemed to know.

Silence loomed over the both of them until Joel finally broke it.

“Are you alright?” He knew it was a stupid question, but it was the only thing he could think of. He watches as she turns to him, her eyes unwavering.

“Yeah,” She responds simply, “you?”

“Yeah,” he responds the same. He pinches the bridge of his nose as he tries to find the right words to say. He shakes his head as he begins to talk. “The thing is I didn’t hear him comin’, and I- just…You shouldn’t have had to…Y’know?” He watches as Ellie crosses her arms over her knees.

“Well,” She starts, “you’re glad I did, right?”

She has no idea, Joel thought, he wasn’t glad she did it. She doesn’t understand that she was just a kid. That no kid should have had to do what she did, to shoot a man and hear him beg for his mother. If the world hadn’t gone to shit she would probably be skating in one of those parks, or walking through a mall with friends her own age. Maybe one of those friends would’ve been his grandchild. But it’s no use to think of the way things would’ve been, or should’ve. Because the truth of the matter is that, that world doesn’t exist anymore. It died over the course of a single weekend, and what’s been left was hell.

“You’re just a kid.” Joel says eyes looking to the ground before landing on her again, “you shouldn’t know what it means to-” he struggles to find the right words, “it’s-it’s not like you killed him…but shootin’...” he huffs in annoyance at his own words, growing a little more frustrated as he continues now wishing he never said anything to begin with, “I know what it’s like-the first time that you hurt…someone like that.” He takes a deep breath, eyes dropping to your sleeping figure. What would you have said? You were better at this stuff, the comforting and all that. He shakes his head as he looks at the girl next to you again. “If you-uh- need to…” he silently curses under his breath, “Doc’s better at this than I am.”

“I can tell.”

“What I mean to say is,” Joel said, taking a deep breath, “it was my fault. You shouldn’t have had to do that, and I’m sorry.” Those words hung in the air for a moment, with the expression written on her face Joel would think that Ellie had never heard someone say that before. But soon enough her eyes darted around, looking at anything that wasn’t him as a look he’s all too familiar with graced her features.

Grief.

The tears in her eyes didn’t have time to fall before Ellie wiped the sleeves of her jacket over them. She had this far away look, one that Joel hadn’t seen before.

“It wasn’t my first time.” Ellie spoke, her eyes refusing to look back at Joel. Silence fell between the two as Joel studied her for a moment or two. He wanted to ask, but he watched as she fiddled with the sleeve of her right arm.

He decided then not to ask, not that he doesn’t want to know. But it wasn’t his place, so instead he took the gun he had taken from Ellie out of his back pocket and unloaded it before handing it back to her.

“Show me your grip.”

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thisisarcanereverie · 11 months

Text

Rating: Explicit (Minors DNI)

Warnings: Upsetting topics such as Marc being toxic slightly. Face sitting, fingering, probably crappy it’s been a while since I wrote a pure smut fic, there is little to no plot just smut. Light angst. Also I do not own any of the pictures, I tried my best it's my first time putting a collage like this on here so there ya go.

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You breathe him in, the smell of cedar and spice filling your senses. His lips mold onto yours in a gentle kiss, holding promises that you both knew he wouldn’t keep. He tasted like false hope and sin, both intoxicating and the recipe for your ruination; but you don’t care. How could you? You’re surrounded by him, his smell, his lips, his touch. All of it, both too little and too much, a pleasant buzz forms under your skin as you can feel your need for him grow into something with teeth and claws. He doesn’t say much in these interactions, but he looks at you with those dark eyes, glistening in the city light that bleeds through the crack of the curtains. you could spend hours in them, counting every star his midnight eyes caught in the light.

His lips travel their familiar path from your lips to your throat, you feel his breath against your skin as his teeth nip and his lips kiss as an empty silent apology. You cling to him as your breathing hitches, his hands find purchase at your hips, kneading the flesh that’s there. You run your hands through his curls, the soft ringlets flow effortlessly through your fingers. you don’t even try to control the breathy moans that tumble out of your mouth as he finds the one spot on your neck that sends shivers running through you. His hands move from your hips, his fingers dancing along your skin leaving a trail of goosebumps and fire in their wake. You feel him moan as you fingers grip his hair tighter, your back arches into him as if he wasn’t close enough.

It was strange, this thing with Marc Spector. If he were anyone else you would’ve told him to drop dead the moment you saw him on the other side of your door, but instead you let him in again and again; like he’s a lesson you refuse to learn. He’d hand you the flowers he brought with him, the kind someone would get last minute before checking out at the grocery store; and a card that said all things that he wouldn’t. You would fall for it, like you always did, and welcome him in with open arms; but you know the day is coming, where he wouldn’t darken your doorway again or you will lock the door instead of turning the knob. Until then, though, you let him kiss you and hold you and let him take you over the edge again and again until he was satisfied.

You struggle for air as his fingers find that spot inside you that makes your toes curl and you throb. You hold onto him like he’s the only thing holding you to the ground, he repeats the motion as his lips find themselves at the tops of your breasts. He looked up at you, eyes dark and wet and full of hunger; something so ravenous and thirsty that it reminded you of yours. His gaze never left yours as his mouth latched onto the peak of your right breast, you choke at the feel of his canines merely grazing you as his thumb draws lazy circles on your clit. Your hands travel from his hair to venture further south, merely ghosting over his feverish skin. You watch with subtle fascination at the trail of goosebumps that follows your touch; and for a brief moment you believe that you have the same effect on him as he does you.

Your hands make it no further than his chest before he lets your breast go, a thin, clear strand still connecting you and him before it breaks. His ministrations below have slowed, letting the knot that has formed to ebb away. You groan lightly and furrow your brows, you had been on the verge of heaven only to have had it slip through your grasp. There was a moment of heated silence, a tease really, one full of fire and an unbreaking stare; and as he takes your hands off of his chest and holds them you had started to wonder if maybe you had crossed a line of some kind.

Until he started to lean back onto the cotton comforter below, his eyes not leaving yours. His hands move from your hands to your bare hips, caressing the soft flesh first before gripping it solidly.

“Up here.” is all he rasped. At first you were unsure, slightly afraid you would suffocate him, that was until in a brief flash you went from sitting above his bulge to his shoulders. You didn’t even register him lifting you. You hover for a moment until you see the look in his eyes, his gaze was feral and you feared that if you hesitated for a second longer he may go mad. So slowly you began to put weight onto him, until suddenly you were pulled in all at once. Your full weight comes crashing down onto him, his hands harshly kneading the flesh of your ass as he roughly pulls you further into him. You don't even have time to worry that you might be suffocating him as he works you into another lust filled frenzy.

This, this and your stubborn heart is what always makes you reopen that door and to forgive and forget every transgression he's ever made. He eats you out as though he hasn't had a decent meal in years, like Erysichthon when the gods cursed him with a hunger that could never be sated.

His war worn hands grip you as though you run the moment he lets go. You grip the headboard until your knuckles whiten and your fingers ache. You don't mind though, your mind is too clouded by the bliss he's giving you. His nose brushes against your clit as he inhales you. You feel the knot your abdomen start to form as your toes curl. Marc must sense it as his eyes impossibly grew darker. You could already feel the bruises start to form as his grip tightens and his efforts double fold. You let out a choked moan as tears prick the corners of your eyes, you swear to every god that you will kill him if he stops what he's doing. An empty oath that you know you'll never follow through on. You let out a string of curses as your eyes roll into the back of your head, you don't even register your hands leaving the headboard to curl themselves around his dark ringlets. The knot is impossibly tight now, it's almost painful how close you were. The feeling similar to looking over a steep cliff and knowing that one gust, one push and you'd fall, weightless as you crash.

You barely register one of his hands leaving their vice grip on your waist to one of your hands in his hair, gently coaxing your digits to let go. His fingers replace the soft hair previously in your grasp, his hand holds yours gently; contrasting the rough way his other grips your waist and the way he is devouring you, body and soul. it isn't until you see the look in his eyes, as though the world could be burning and he wouldn't look away from you for a moment that you feel the knot inside you burst like fireworks. Lightning courses through your body and electrifies your nerves. A scream you did not register leaving you escapes, it's choked and primal and filled with every feral thought and want in you. It leaves you throbbing and with wet cheeks. He doesn't stop as he rips another one from you again, faster than the last one but leaves you feeling boneless all the same. You practically have to rip yourself away from him, otherwise he would drain you until you were nothing left but a husk. You were prepared to take care of him only to find a large wet patch decorating his briefs instead. You could feel a ridiculous amount of pride swell in you as you brought this man to his release with just the taste of you alone.

Marc takes a moment to breathe and lay with his arms around you for a brief moment before getting up to rid himself of the soiled underwear and go to the bathroom to grab a soft, warm wet cloth to clean you up with. While he's gone you can't help but relive what brought you to this moment, you both fought. It wasn't an uncommon occurrence, and it happened more often than you cared to admit. You simply had asked a question, one that you didn't think was so hard to answer. You asked where he ran off to most days of the week, and why you had never in 3 years of dating been over at his. He could've said anything, that he lived with annoying flatmates or his parents and you would've believed him. Instead, though, he had fought you on it and told you it wasn't any of your business. You tried not to think of what came after that, of what he said to you and how he slammed the door behind him as he left.

You were a fool, you knew that, you knew you would continue being the fool for him. You will ignore every red flag about him, you will kiss every new scar and never ask where they came from. Because if that was the price you had to pay to have his midnight eyes on you longer, his kisses linger, or for that addicting touch of his to stay with you longer then you were willing to pay it.

You were ok with being an afterthought, so long as you were a thought at all.

So as you laid that night next to him, curled into his arms breathing in that spiced scent of his. You relished in his mar and once again donned your rose tinted lenses, making all his red flags look like any other; and made peace with the fact that some people never learned their lesson.

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thisisarcanereverie · 11 months

Note

May i request a Yandere Moonknight System with a reader who’s like visiting London on work or something and they meet one of the boys. over their stay they get close as the boys show them around London and they sort of ignore the fact reader eventually has to leave untill they tell the boys they’re leaving the next day and they snap and take reader. Idk if that makes sense. 🤍

Cutting Ties (Dark! Moon Knight x Reader)

A/N: This is Part 1 of a 3 Part fic. This is also a dark fic so please DNI Minors and others. (I got a little carried away with this idea Anon so thank you for the suggestion)

Now if you can interact or want to, please do! Like, reblog, reply!

Summary: You're a former Widow on the run, only in London for a year you meet Steven Grant, a goofy gift shoppist. But is there more that meets the eye?

You weren’t sure what it was about London, maybe it was the almost constant cloud looming over the city-or perhaps it was the way you barely understood what the people around you were saying- but you didn’t get what all the hype was about. Yes, it was beautiful if you put a filter over it looking at it through a tourist’s perspective. However, looking past all the buzz and touristy wonder, it was just like every other city- gray, busy, and foul smelling–filled to the brim with more people than it could possibly provide for. The only difference was the currency and the fact that everyone sounded like they came out of either Downtown Abbey or Derby Girls.

You sighed as you reminded yourself that you were only going to be stuck here for another year, until this identity expired, then you got to go somewhere else, maybe somewhere warm and remote. Though you doubt it, that’s the thing about being on the run–you don’t get to choose where you go. You’ve been running close to 8 years now, almost a decade. Ever since Natasha Romanoff sent the Red Room hurdling from the sky and freed every Widow in the process, including you. How you got here exactly was a very long story, with parts you would rather not relive.

You looked out the window of the bus, filled with thoughts of nothing but warm places with lots of sun and color with next to no people around. You could probably stay there longer than usual, hell maybe forever if you were careful. You could feel a small smile gracing your features as you thought of a nice, quaint home; decorated with plants, a nice kitchen to practice cooking in–oh and a sunroom that doubled as a greenhouse of sorts. You started making a list of flowers you would like to grow when you felt a sudden, foreign weight on your shoulder. You turned your head away from the silver light of the window towards the dark mess of curls next to you. You recognize him almost immediately, you don’t know his name but he always got off at that museum you’ve been meaning to visit, he always looked so tired with dark almost bruise like circles under his eyes; his dark hair almost in a permanent state of unkempt. You looked at his face a bit longer before your eyes trailed to his hands, his knuckles were white with how harshly he was gripping his bag and sweat was starting to form on his brow. A nightmare. You got those as well.

As gently as you could you shook him, it didn’t take much until he bolted upright and took a few very sharp breaths. You could see his eyes dart erratically in fear before finally settling on you, you couldn’t help but remark on the lovely shade of brown his eyes were. A moment or two passed by before his eyes met the ground and his cheeks flushed.

“I’m so sorry” he hurriedly apologized, eyes still trained on the ground, “didn’t realize I nodded off there.”

“It’s quite alright,” you assured smiling gently at him, “if you don’t mind me asking but do you suffer from nightmares often?” his eyes went from the ground back at you, “I don’t mean to pry it’s just that I’ve seen you a few times on here and you always look exhausted.”

“Yeah um,” he cleared his throat, “I, uh, I would guess so– not that I can’t tell the difference– it’s just complicated to explain–not that I wouldn’t tell you if I could, it’s just the best way I can explain it and I probably sound like such a knob.” You hold in a slight chuckle as his cheeks flush even more.

“I don’t think so,” you say, “I get those kinds of dreams often as well. The ones you feel like they belong to someone else…but not at the same time, I guess it really is difficult to explain out loud.” you hold out your hand and introduce yourself as the man beside you hesitantly accepts it.

“Steven Grant.”

///////////////////////////////////////////////////

That was almost a year ago, after introducing yourselves you gave him your number (which he called not even an hour after he got off the bus). At first you would just meet up for tea but tea quickly became more intimate. You would call each other during the nights that were the hardest to sleep or to dream. You would tell him about your hope to live somewhere remote one day, in a place full of sunshine and color and he would be silent and listen. It wasn’t long until he confided in you about his condition, and you met Marc Spector and Jake Lockely respectively.

You weren’t sure why but when Marc appeared he seemed familiar, for a moment you wondered if you had met him at some point but you were sure that you would’ve remembered. The Red Room forced you to have a good memory after all.

Jake on the other hand was completely different from Steven and Marc, where Steven was shy and Marc stiff, Jake was suave. He had kissed your hand and said dirty things to you in spanish, to which you surprised him by replying fluently and dirtier.

After some time you grew comfortable with Marc and Jake and went on dates with them as well. For a while you were happy, first time ever since coming to London. You were practically living in Steven’s small flat and you spent your days living as a normal person would. You pretended not to notice the weird things, like them leaving in the middle of the night or the strange looks they would sometimes get looking at absolutely nothing. You never pried or judged, it wasn’t like you aired out all the skeletons in your closet either. You never told them your real name (or at least the name the Red Room gave you) or where you came from or basically anything of substance at all about your past. You didn’t want to, it wasn’t like you didn’t trust them, but you feared what would happen if you did tell them. Tell them your real name, that you used to be a Black Widow and killed people. That the reason why you hated the color red was because it reminded you of the Red Room and the blood that stained your hands, how your nightmares were memories and that ghosts that haunted you refused to die.

Somewhere along the way you started to forget that this life you were living with your job and your boys wouldn’t last forever. That sooner or later reality creeps in and brutally murders the fantasy you have created and as you hold the almost expired passport in your hand you remember the cold truth. That you never should’ve gotten involved, that you slipped and got attached and worst of all..you’d gotten someone else attached as well. Without you knowing the year you had left in London was almost up, in less than two months you will be off again to a new corner of the world with a new name and a new life.

Deep down though you knew, knew that you couldn’t not go. Choosing to remain this person you’ve created with her perfectly normal job with her perfectly normal life with her not so normal–but still perfect–boyfriend was never an option. Too many people want you, for various reasons from recruitment to revenge for what you did as a Widow; and those people would stop at nothing to get to you, even if that meant hurting someone you’ve loved.

You’re doing this, for them, you had to leave. There was no other option, and it was better to break it off now rather than leaving in the middle of the night. You fought the urge to be selfish, to keep living this life with them until you board your one way flight. So with a deep breath you stuffed your passport back into its folder in the drawer you owned and grabbed your trench coat and umbrella. You did not let a single tear fall as you hauled a cab to take you to the familiar route to their flat. You tried not to think at all, you knew if thought for a little too long you would talk yourself out of this. You knew this would probably be easier over text, you wouldn’t need to tell those big brown eyes goodbye and see them fill with tears or hate. It would be so easy…but you couldn’t. You knew that if you didn’t end it in person Steven, Marc, or Jake would show up at your door and wouldn’t leave until you did what you were doing right now. Telling them in person that it was over.

You didn’t waste time when the cab stopped in front of his building, you told the driver to wait and that you would be back down in just a few moments. Your heels clacked against the wet pavement towards the door which a kind, elderly neighbor of Steven’s you’ve gotten to know opened the door for you to which you smiled and thanked him. Every move you made was robotic, you weren’t even thinking you were just on auto pilot. Hoping that they wouldn’t be able to tell the slight shake in your hand or how stiff you were. You reminded yourself that you were doing this for them, and for you as well.

You entered the lift and pressed the button for their floor, the fluorescent light flickers a few times and the hum and rattle of the wires lifting the metal box do nothing to quiet the thrumming of your heart. Seconds pass by like hours before finally the sliding doors reveal the dimly lit hallway. One you’ve walked through dozens of times by now looks more like death row. You let not one tear drop as you walked, you couldn’t–you couldn’t let those doubting thoughts and happy memories pass through your head as you knocked on his door. Hearing a shuffling and the clattering of dishes before you hear them walk to the door. You could tell by the slight difference in gait that Steven was fronting and it hurt. You had hoped silently that it wouldn’t be him, your sweet Steven, with his unkempt curls and goofy grin. One who read you facts about Egyptian mythology and ancient history during stormy nights, who woke you from nightmares and held you gently like you were the most precious thing to ever exist. The sleepy man on the bus who laid his head on your shoulder and slept, who called you not even an hour after giving him your number. Please not him.

He opened the door and sure enough it was Steven.

“There you are love,” He said, a wide smile adorning his face as he ushered you in, “Me and the boys were wondering where you were,” he kissed your cheek and took your coat, “dinners almost ready if you need to wash up.” You stood there motionless, unsure of what to do. This wasn’t the first time you’ve cut ties with someone that you’ve cared for. However this was different, he was different. Steven, Marc, and Jake were probably the first people you’ve ever loved. You would do anything for them, anything, as long as they lived and were content and happy.

Even if it meant hurting them.

Even if it meant you could only watch from afar.

You took in a deep breath, willed your heart to stop beating before speaking.

“Steven.” He stopped immediately, you never called him by his name, only ever called him your sweetheart, or baby, or whatever other nickname came into mind but never his name. He turned away from the little stovetop and looked at you. You willed your voice to not falter as you continued, “we all need to talk.”

“Oh god,” Steven whispered, “how bad?”

“We need to talk,” You said not answering, “please.”

Wordlessly Steven turned the stove off as he made his way to you, you held up your hand when he was only a few steps away.

“Are they present?” You asked.

“They weren’t before but now they are,” He said, eyes furrowing in worry, “we’re starting to get a little worried love what’s going on?”

“I,” you start before swallowing the lump that has suddenly formed in your throat, “I’ve gotten a call from the main office, they’re relocating me in a few months to help on a different classified project.”

“Oh,” Steven said with confusion written all over his face, “where?”

“That’s classified.” You said, nails biting into your palm to stop yourself from getting emotional.

“When will you be back?”

Silence fills the room, you bite back the urge to say anything that would give him hope. After a few seconds you see his eyes widen as he looks at the mirror beside you.

“No,” he said to the mirror, “no, no she’s not,” he turns to you with tears pricking his dark eyes making them shine, “love, tell them that you’re not-”

“I am,” you say, careful to keep a cold tone despite the urge to cry, “I’m not coming back. It’s a permanent relocation.”

“But you can still come to visit,” he says hurriedly, tears still pricking his eyes as he runs a hand through his hair, “we-we, we can um, we can face-call or um, or we can text and call and we can make this work, I know we can make this work love.” you opened your mouth to say something when he cut you off, a few tears leaking through and leaving wet streaks down his cheek, “or you could tell them no, tell them that you refuse the offer!”

“I can’t say no,” you said gently.

“Yes you can,” Steven said, his large hands gripping your shoulders, “you can tell them no.”

“I can’t Steven,” you tell him, “I’ll lose my job if I do and I can’t.”

“Then we can face call,” he says, his hands now cradling your face, leaving small kisses on your face that feel like knives in your heart, “we can make this work.”

“We can’t,” you said as you gently pry his hands from your face, you reach into your pocket and grab the spare key he gave you after a month into your relationship and put it in his hand. “I’m sorry.”

“Wait,” Steven says silently, his head hung, his crying seemingly subsided “can you please stay, stay with me, be with me until you go.”

A moment of silence happens, for a moment you reconsider, but then you kiss his lips. Salt and vegan chocolate stain your tongue until you pull back, resting your forehead against his momentarily. You imagine what life you could’ve had with them, one full of good days and bad days. You’d adopt a cat with him, you would laugh as he declared the cat his mortal enemy for looking at Gus for a moment too long. You’d save up together and buy a nice cottage in the countryside, maybe you’d get married, maybe you wouldn’t. But you could imagine what it would be like to grow old with him, when your hair would turn white and gray, when your skin would start to sag and he would still be there to tell you you’re as beautiful as the day he met you on that small bus all those years ago. It’s a nice life, one you know you would be more than content with.

But you know it’s not a life you can have.

“Goodbye.”

With that you left, closing the door behind you and walking to the lift. Walking away from the life you knew you could never live, not without constantly looking over your shoulders. You knew secrets always have ways of coming to the light, so even if you did stay how long would it be until he discovered yours. How long until he has a gun to his head and a target on his back? No, this was the choice, this was the only option. You made the right call, while you may not get to live that life; he still could. He’ll find someone else, someone to love and who will hopefully love him as much.

The doors slid closed and the wires hummed and groaned as they lifted you back down where the cab was waiting. You decided to walk and paid the cab for their time. You knew with the heels you were wearing you would regret it later but you didn’t care, you needed some time to think. You walked through the lit streets, you watched as people laughed and a few occasionally public criers. You stopped and waved at the living statue man that Steven introduced to you before walking on. This was a path that you and the boys would walk sometimes, they didn’t like going out much and neither did you, but the exercise did you good. You checked your phone to see how much time you had left before you had to board your flight. It seemed like you had enough time to go home, grab your duffle and carry on before the cab you called before you left arrived.

“Excuse me miss,” You turned to see a little girl no older than ten addressing you. She was a small thing, with dark curls and even darker eyes, she dressed as a white gown with a flower crown. “Do you care for some flowers?” You remember briefly seeing similarly dressed kids in the plaza not too far away, you gathered that maybe she had wandered away from the group unnoticed.

“You know what,” You kneeled down to her height, “I would love some flowers, but first let’s get you back to your group alright?” the girl looked around as if she’s realizing she’s not where she’s supposed to be, for a moment you’re worried about her crying as you see tears start forming in her eyes. You take the hand not holding onto the small basket of flower seeds gently, “don’t cry little one, we’ll get you back to your group all safe and sound.” You see her nod as she holds your hand in her tiny one as you lead her back to the brightly lit plaza just a few buildings away. She points to two women frantically looking and calling out a name. You let her hand go and watch as she runs towards who you assume are her mothers.

“Oh my stars,” you hear the taller woman breathe out in relief, “where did you run off too?”

“I-I went to go give flowers.” You heard the little girl sniffle before she pointed at you, “she helped me.” You gave a small awkward smile and wave before the smaller woman gave you a hug.

“Thank you so much,” She said before letting you go. “We were talking with the play director for one mo and the next-”

“No need,” you said, “she’s a sweet kid, adventurous too apparently.”

“You have no idea.” the mother sighed as she looked at the now giggling child in her wife's arms, “Angie loves to get into trouble.” you see her smile before returning her gaze back to you, “anyways thank you again.”

“No problem,” you say before turning your eyes towards Angie and her taller mother, “it was nice to meet you, and you too Angie–listen to your mum’s.” you went to walk away before you felt a soft tug on your sleeve. You looked down to see Angie holding up a packet of flower seeds to you.

“Here’s your flower miss,” Angie said sweetly, tears long gone, “thank you for helping me find my mum’s.” you gently take the packet of seeds from her and smile,

“you’re welcome, good luck with your play.” You said as you waved her goodbye as she went to take her place next to the various other children in similar attire. You stood there a moment longer, watching this small family you’ve encountered. All you’ve ever known of family was what the Red Room told you of. Your birth certificate was destroyed along with every other Widow’s, even then you doubt that your parents still walked the earth. Dreykov wasn’t one to leave loose ends.

You walked away from the plaza then, away from the brightly lit place and back onto dimly lit streets making your way past the few passersby and back to your building where a single duffle bag and carry on waited for you.

You had been brave the entire day, you had not let a single tear drop but once the door to your flat closed behind you all the resolve you had crumbled. You slid down the door as tears profusely fell down your cheeks leaving hot traces behind. You couldn’t hold back the sobs that had threatened to come out earlier. Your fingers shakily trace your lips as you hold onto the last kiss you shared with him. Your hand then went to your chest and clutched the material of your shirt as a sharp, throbbing pain in your chest grew. Every part of you was screaming, all for different things. There was physical pain like the ache in your feet and the pain in your chest, but the emotional pain–that was the worst of it. This was the kind of pain that teetered between hell and heaven.

So this was it.

This was heartbreak.

You don’t know how long you stayed there–teetering–but you knew you couldn’t be long. Soon you would have to pick yourself up, bite through every step as though it didn’t feel like you were walking on glass, grab that duffle and carry on, and leave. You let out a bitter smile as you remember that fateful day you met your boys, how you were planning on what flowers to plant in that dream home of yours. You reached into your pocket and grabbed that small bag of flower seeds.

Purple Hyacinth.

Sorrow

You laughed at the irony.

How fitting.

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

“What do you mean my flight is canceled?”

“Just what I mean ma’am, the weather report-”

“It’s bloody London, has there ever been a clear sunny sky in London?”

“No..bu-”

“Alright,” you sigh, pinching the bridge between your brows, “I’m not trying to be difficult, I know you’re just doing your job, are there any flights cleared to take off?” You see the person type a few buttons on their keyboard and a few clicks of the mouse before looking back at you with false sympathy.

“I’m sorry ma’am all the ones cleared already took off.”

Shit, that leaves you with two options: going back to the flat or staying at the airport until morning…with a sigh you grab your bags and get ready to grab a late taxi back to your place. At least there you could shower and cry in private. First thing tomorrow morning you’ll get on the next plane to, you look at your ticket again Cincinnati, Ohio. At least you won’t stay there, your inside guy did you a solid and got you away from people. You’ll be in a small property big enough for one in a small town. It wasn’t ideal but at least you were away from the city stench. You’ll have to drive to places this time instead of hailing a cab, but you didn’t mind. All in all, it was an ok set up, much more preferable than your previous arrangement.

You tried to hail a cab for ten minutes, everyone that passed was either already paid or just didn’t see you. Eventually you thought you were going to have to bite the bullet and sleep on the uncomfortable airport lounges when a cab finally pulled up. You thanked god as you put your luggage in the trunk and got into the backseat.

“Where to miss?” the man asked, you didn’t even look at him as you replied. Instead watching the water drip steadily down the window pane.

“Too bad for the weather eh?” This driver asked in a thick cockney accent.

“Yeah I guess,” you replied, “though I guess it fits.” silence passes before he replies.

“Tough day issit?”

“Like you wouldn’t believe.” you said, closing your eyes, “it just doesn’t end.”

“Know what that’s like,” he replies, “I had a share of bad days myself.”

“Oh yeah?” You responded.

“Like today,” You hear him respond, “I burned my hand while making dinner for me and my girlfriend, we’ve been going on for a year or so by now. She is the most beautiful creature you’ve ever seen, inside and out. Anyways the day only gets worse from there, she comes about half an hour early to dinner without warning. I knock my poor toe on the way to the door to let her in; hurt like anything. So I open the door, she’s as radiant as ever, only she’s got this sad look in her eyes, something I’ve never seen before. Turns out, she’s been lying to me… she said her job was taking her away and that she wouldn’t be able to be with us anymore.” a sinking feeling settled into your stomach, “we begged, we pleaded but no. She was adamant, and then she left, without another word. Isn’t that cruel?” You open your eyes to look into the rearview mirror, a chill went through your body as your eyes met a familiar dark pair. “Isn’t it mi carissima?” the accent drops into the deep spanish accent. You’re about to open the door when you feel a pinch on the side of your neck, and slowly the world blurred and then faded into nothing.

(Here's Part 2)

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thisisarcanereverie · 1 year

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Are you going to finish the joel series? Love your work ❤️❤️

Thank you so much!!

Yes I am, writing has been extremely hard lately due to stress but slowly and surely the next chapter is getting written

#ask rev

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thisisarcanereverie · 1 year

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the fact that the Barbie movie is coming out on my birthday is a mood I wasn't prepared for.

#askrev

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thisisarcanereverie · 1 year

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Rating: Explicit (Minors DNI)

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Until he started to lean back onto the cotton comforter below, his eyes not leaving yours. His hands move from your hands to your bare hips, caressing the soft flesh first before gripping it solidly.

You were ok with being an afterthought, so long as you were a thought at all.

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