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loki-hargreeves · 2 years

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An Eye For An Eye

Pairing: Marc Spector x f!Reader, Steven Grant x f!Reader, Jake Lockley x f!Reader

Warnings/Tags: Kidnapping, graphic descriptions of violence, death threats/thoughts of dying, mentions of body mutilation [doesn’t happen though], using a gun for self-defense, character death [murder], mentions of blood, dark undertones, hurt/comfort, angst, vulgar language, some references to Moon Knight comics, Marc is very sad, loads of crying, somewhat of a fluffy ending

Word Count: 13K [oops..]

Summary: Raul Bushman has a personal grudge against Marc Spector and he takes it out on you. When he kidnaps you, he taunts Marc by sending a video of you as his hostage. With the help of Khonshu, the Moon boys come to your rescue - which is unfortunate for Raul. Once you’re safe again, Marc can’t bring himself to face you because of the guilt so Steven and Jake take care of you.

A/N: Ok I realize it’s a bit bloody and teary but I had to get this out of my head. I hope you enjoy it! <3

DISCLAIMER! Please do not proceed to read this if the mentioned warnings and tags include topics that could possibly trigger or harm you. Take care of yourself.

“Darling, I’m home!” Steven’s cheerful voice replaced the silence of your shared flat as he finally came back home from work. The new museum he worked at was wonderful and his first week of being a tour guide had just come to an end. Steven was over the moon and knowing he was coming home to you only made him feel even better, as if he was literally walking on sunshine.

For once in his life, all seemed to be going so well. Steven felt invincible in a way. Little did he know of the drastic turn that would take place much sooner than anticipated.

When all he was met with was silence, Steven began to worry. Since you had told them you’d be home before them, it was odd that you weren’t there. Refusing to jump to conclusions, Steven pulled out his phone from his pocket and searched for you name in his contacts, calling you as he made his way further inside the apartment to inspect everything. The only sound he heard was the beeping dial tone.

You’d pick up and have an explanation. Everything was fine.

Steven turned the lights on and looked around the place. Your phone or wallet weren’t anywhere to be seen and the note he had left for you on the kitchen counter had been completely untouched. That was definitely odd. Usually you left a note for him too, especially if you were going somewhere. The bright, little notes were some of Steven’s favourite things.

“She’s not answering,” Steven said out loud, staring at the phone screen that let him know you hadn’t picked up the call. Marc and Jake were aware of what was going on, both of their minds racing to different places. Neither of those places were good.

Call her again, Marc demanded, trying hard not to let his fear get the best of him. Then again, Marc knew you. He knew that you would let them know if you wouldn’t show up when agreed. Perhaps for an ordinary couple, this wasn’t a big deal but Marc had enemies. Jake had enemies. Steven had them too, now. It was one of their greatest fears that one day those enemies would find you.

As Steven walked around the flat frantically, his heart began to beat harder all the way in his throat, it felt like. The dial tone was taunting him, making seconds feel like minutes as it kept on ringing.

“Pick up, pick up...please,” Steven made his way to the window, looking down at the London street that was illuminated by the yellow street lights. Darkness had swallowed the blue sky and you were somewhere out there, not picking up the phone. This was so unlike you and it gnawed at Steven’s heart. He didn’t even wish to imagine you in any sort of danger.

Shouldn’t have let her walk home at this hour alone! Jake had jumped to the worst conclusions. Steven looked at the man whose reflection showed up in the nearby mirror. Jake looked like he was about to explode from worry and anger, barely containing such intense feelings.

“Don’t say that!” Steven couldn’t bear it. There was no way he would let them assume the worst so soon. “Maybe she’s staying late. Let’s meet her half way, yeah? Come on, out we go!”

Steven was glad he hadn’t taken off his shoes yet as he rushed back outside, making sure he had his keys after the fact he had closed the front door and he was already in the elevator. The mirrors in the small space made it easy to see all the alters, yet somehow it wasn’t very comforting. Not when all of them were so clearly concerned over your safety. It was almost as if they just knew you weren’t staying late. This was much worse than that. There was a sick feeling in Steven’s gut as he stood there, waiting for the elevator to reach the ground floor.

The feeling was growing worse by the second, spreading like fire and tugging at his guts until he felt nauseous. What if Jake was right? What if you were hurt? Lying in a ditch somewhere, cold and beaten, all alone.

The notification sound of his phone snapped Steven out of his thoughts. He ripped the phone out of his pocket and felt a wave of relief crashing against him when he saw your name on the screen.

“Oh thank heavens,” Steven almost felt like laughing as he thought about how worried he felt. Overreacting never did any good for anyone. There he was now, unlocking his phone and waiting to see your message. In all honesty, Steven expected something short and simple, just letting him know you’d be able to call him soon. When he saw a video file with a pitch black background and no other message, the relief was stolen from him just as quickly as it had arrived.

Steven knew he had to open it but every cell in his body told him not to click it. He froze, brown eyes glued at the screen in terror as he anticipated what would happen next.

It was Marc who fronted next, taking control of the body as Steven took too long to think about his next actions. Marc pressed the play button and then took a deep breath, but nothing could’ve possibly prepared him for what they were all about to see.

The video began and immediately chains were more easily visible, leading up to you. There you were, chained to what looked like a bed in a dark room. The volume was on full but no sounds were heard. Whoever had filmed the video zoomed in on your face, eyelashes resting against your bloodied cheeks. To believe you were just asleep would've been foolish. Someone must've knocked you out one way or another, a realization that made Marc sick to his stomach. Blood was boiling in his body, so much so he could hear it in his ears and feel how his skin was set on fire with rage. Whoever did that to you would pay for it with their life. That was certain.

Suddenly, the person who was filming it flipped the camera and revealed his face. The man was smiling cruelly since he knew exactly who was watching the clip and how he was reacting. Marc recognized that evil gleam from anywhere since he knew this man extremely well. That was Raul Bushman. A mercenary, just like Marc used to be although these days Raul Bushman was better known as a fucking terrorist. Marc had hoped the past would stay in the past but evidently, it had not. Life wasn't ever that simple. Now Raul was there, in the present with you as his hostage. Knowing how wicked Raul was terrified Marc because he couldn't be sure he would find you in time.

Don't go there, you have to focus! Jake was already in action mode, planning on how they would track this man down and bring you back home safely. If they let panic overtake them then it could cost you your life. There was no way any of them could let that happen. Steven was dead silent for once, not finding a single thing to say at that moment. Fear had completely enveloped him, but not fear for his own sake. Steven was scared he'd never see you again and for what? Because a sick man wanted to hurt you? How was that fair?

"Marc Spector," Raul addressed Marc in the video, simultaneously letting Steven know that this was personal. Jake had recognized that tattooed face as well. Steven hadn't as Marc's memories of his mercenary past weren't something he could personally recall.

Marc was thinking about ripping Raul's face off as he anticipated what he was going to say next. Did he want money? That didn't seem likely. Whatever he wanted, Marc was willing to give it if he could get you back. The killing could happen afterwards.

"I've got your girl," Raul chuckled, enjoying this for some sick and twisted reason. "She's not very chatty anymore. You should've heard her earlier! Did you teach her to speak like that or did you find yourself a sailor? Very vulgar, Spector. So naughty."

Marc who is that? Steven's voice barely carried above a whisper as he stared at Marc from the reflection of the elevator mirror. The elevator had reached the first floor but they had no intentions of leaving just yet. Running around in circles with no leads would be a waste of time.

Marc ignored Steven and forced himself to keep watching the video, his grip on the phone so strong it was a miracle it hadn't snapped in half yet. That's when Jake began to explain things to Steven in the background, their words turning into a haze as Marc stood there, in utter shock and disbelief at it all. He could only watch as Raul flipped the camera over to you once again and that's when the tears threatened to spill. How could he have let something like this happen to you? The love of his life, the sweetest and most wonderful person that had ever walked the earth. Marc felt so guilty. If you were to die now he would never forgive himself. Not in a million years and more.

"I'm sure you'd love to hear some conditions or whatever but the truth is," Raul sighed dramatically as he caressed your cheek, wiping away the blood, "I have none. The only reason I'm doing this is because of you. I'm curious to know what made you so soft and pathetic. What a waste of a man you are."

Just like that, the video ended. Raul's words echoed in Marc's head loudly, drumming into his skull and every beat made him feel worse. Marc could hear Steven and Jake yelling but none of their words made sense. The overwhelming worry and anger were over-spilling and Marc couldn't take it. He turned on his heel and punched the mirror as hard as he could, letting out a pained and frustrated shout and most likely alarming everyone else in the building but he couldn't have cared less. The smashed mirror showed Marc thousands of small reflections as glass fell on the floor. Crimson red was running down his knuckles angrily, most likely dripping on the floor. Marc didn't care. He only cared about finding you.

So did Jake who took control, needing to work on his plan immediately and not let Marc or Steven waste any more time. Jake pressed the elevator button back to their floor, leaving blood on the buttons. Whoever walked into the elevator next would have a surprise awaiting them. Raul Bushman, on the other hand, had something much worse awaiting him. If he thought for one second that he was more powerful than them, he was wrong and Jake was going to hunt him down no matter what it took. Touching you was the biggest mistake the poor excuse of a man had ever made.

The first thing you noticed as consciousness was coming back to you was the dreadful headache you had. It made you whine in pain as you tried to roll over, only to realize you were unable to move your arms. Horror spread throughout you as you remembered what had happened, eyes popping open as you took in the dark surroundings. The room was dim and quite small too, with only a bed and a dresser. It didn't have a window so it was impossible to tell whether it was day or night. As creepy as it was, it didn't smell bad. You had expected the thick copper scent of blood to linger in the air or of something foul and rotting. Perhaps the cleanliness meant you weren't in a creepy dungeon but instead in a preoccupied building? Was that a good thing or not? You didn't know.

Stay calm, you repeated that to yourself as you took a few deep breaths. Freaking out wouldn't do you any good but it wasn't easy to steady your breaths either. As the memories came back to you, you could feel yourself slipping onto a world of doubt and worry. The man who had found you was absolutely terrifying. Not only was he tall enough to tower over you with ease, but his teeth also looked sharp and metallic. The man had scars all over his body and a look in his brown eyes that had told you he wasn't merciful at all. Years of hardships decorated every inch of his skin but he didn't seem to let that drag him down. He used it as armour, which made him evermore dangerous.

Just as you had feared, the door opened, allowing artificial light to pour inside for only a moment as he walked in. The door shut loudly and with a click, which meant it was locked. The tall man turned on the ceiling light, the single bulb hanging from the ceiling allowing you to see better, only to realize his cold eyes were glued to you. When he made his way further inside the small room, you could hardly hear his footsteps as your heart was thudding so loudly against your rib cage. How were you supposed to remain calm when a scary man had you chained down like an animal? What was he going to do? What did he want from you?

"You're awake sooner than expected," He finally spoke, his deep voice sending shivers down your spine. “Thought you’d be weaker.”

"What do you want from me?"

The man didn't reply instantly but judging by the stern look on his face, he had clearly heard you. For whatever reason he actually took his sweet time thinking about his reply as he circled the bed, never tearing his eyes off of you. As he reached the wooden dresser, he dragged a gun out of a holster and placed it on the surface with a loud thud, making sure it was pointed directly at you so even when the gun was untouched and simply resting on the dresser, it kept you on edge.

"What do I want from you? That's a silly question," He finally spoke, much more relaxed now that you were chained down and silent. "Nothing really. You're here because of Marc Spector," your lover's name was spoken as if it was poison on his tongue, every syllable tasting rancid.

"Why?" You decided it was better to talk to this man instead of being tortured. The more time you wasted like this, the better were your chances of survival. Surely, they were coming for you. The moment you thought about them, you felt a pang of guilt in your gut. Marc was probably freaking out by now. Steven must've been so scared. Jake? Oh Jake, he wouldn’t show it but you knew the protective man was ridden with anxiety. You didn't even want to imagine how stressed they must've been. Did they know you were there? Or did they think you had abandoned them?

The tall man pulled an old wooden chair next to the bed and sat down, being so close to you now that it made you worry. What was he going to do?

"Long ago, Marc and I used to be pals, if you will. He was a great mercenary. Unstoppable, quick, someone that a man like me could respect. Then something changed and he turned on us. Marc became soft, that rat," He spat angrily, slamming his large fist against the wall so hard you flinched, half expecting him to hit you instead. Your heart leapt to your throat and your eyes squeezed shut which you instantly regretted.

"Are you scared, love?" He mocked you, leaning closer to you so his foul breath landed on your skin, causing your hairs to stand on end. Stay calm.

“Anyway, I wanted to know what changed him and all leads came back to you. Funny how the same thing that made him soft is the same thing that makes him hard,” he laughed at his own wordplay, his belittling words making you feel dirty. What he was talking about was none of his business and you wanted to let him hear your thoughts, but decided to bite your tongue for now.

"W-What's your name?" You ignored him, focusing on your one and only task right now. Keep him talking. Nothing else mattered.

"You can call me Raul," He introduced himself while caressing your cheek. That's when you noticed it, his left hand only had three fingers. Raul caught you staring.

"Wanna know who did this to me?" Raul grabbed your jaw forcefully and made you face him. There was no warmth in his eyes, only deep and dark coldness that sent shivers down your spine. His touch was rough and it stung but you assumed it was better than whatever else it was he was capable of doing. Without knowing what else to do, you simply nodded, encouraging him to go on. By now, you felt your body betraying you as your limbs quivered underneath his touch. That's how easy it was for him to terrify you. At that moment, you wished you had abilities such as Khonshu had granted your lovers. You wished you could've broken free from these chains and returned home safely but alas, you couldn't. There you were, forced to look at this man and hear his stories, not knowing what was true and what wasn't.

"Marc did this," Raul revealed eventually, something about it making your gut twist in horror. Picturing Marc severing a man's fingers off was sickening. If it were true, you had to believe there was a good reason behind it. Khonshu only made him punish people who had already done evil things. This man was no exception.

"Tell me, sweetheart," Raul tilted his head slightly, "have you heard of the phrase 'an eye for an eye'?"

Who hadn't? You thought but kept that to yourself as you didn't wish to set him off. Somehow, it seemed like nothing was truly needed to set this man off as your silence alone was enough to push him into action.

Everything that happened next was surreal. You could only watch as Raul reached for something in his pocket, something that turned out to be a knife. It reflected the yellow ceiling light and you noticed just how sharp it was. There was a carved symbol on the blade which you didn't recognize but it didn't seem to matter when he grabbed your left hand that was still chained to the headboard.

"No! No, please! Please don't do this!" You screamed in shock when he pressed the sharp knife against the base of your index and middle fingers, not enough to cut your fingers off but your skin broke under the edge. "Please don't!" Panicked tears rolled down your face as you tried to wiggle free. It was of no use though and you both knew it.

"If you stop moving it'll be over sooner!" Raul yelled at you and then had the audacity to smile. The curve of his lips was sadistic, something straight out of nightmares. He enjoyed this.

Just as blood began to trickle down your palm, the hot liquid reminding you of how doomed you were, a phone rang in his pocket. That was your phone.

"Fucking hell!" Raul sighed, annoyed by the interruption but you were forever grateful because he stepped away and put the knife on the table next to the gun. So far, your digits were still intact but the ghastliness of what had almost happened shook you to the core, making you feel nauseous. The cut at the base of your fingers stung. Even without seeing it, you knew it'd leave a scar. A scar that would be much better than losing your fingers. As you were still recovering from the shock of what Raul nearly succeeded with, you didn't even realize what was happening.

Raul had answered the video call because Marc's face had shown up on the screen. He had anticipated a call again. As he picked up, he instantly turned the camera to you, letting Marc see what was happening.

"You have perfect timing, Spector. I was just about to cut her pretty little fingers off," Raul revealed casually as if he had no care in the world. He wanted to piss off Marc and it didn't seem like it frightened him at all. Either he was a fool or extremely powerful.

"Don't you fucking dare touch her!" Marc growled with wrath in his voice. You realized you had never heard him so angry ever before. His voice was alien, but at the same time, you found comfort in it. Was he going to find you? If so, would he be there in time? Would you see him again?

"If I do, what are you gonna do about it? There's not much you can do to stop me," Raul laughed again, grabbing the bloody knife and waving it around as he spoke. "I'm here, she's here and you're god-knows-where! Even if you do find us, you'll be too late! I will make you watch as I kill her, that I promise you!"

This couldn't be happening. This had to be a nightmare. If you had been able to, you would've pinched yourself. You felt so helpless as tears streamed down your face and you struggled against the cold chains that were wrapped so tightly around you that the skin beneath the metal was bruising at an alarming rate. Staying calm after hearing his morbid threats seemed like an impossible task.

If he was truly going to kill you, this could've been your last chance to speak to any of them. As much as the realization terrified you, you had to find the courage to speak again.

"I love you, baby, I'm so sorry," You sniffled, trying to see the screen but Raul didn't grant you the satisfaction of seeing Marc. "I'm sorry!" The apology poured from your lips quietly as the guilt was eating you alive. The violent sobs caused your lungs to feel like they were on fire and burning you up from within. Had you been more careful, this would've never happened. You were sure of it. If this twisted man took your life tonight, the happy future you had dreamt of would be ripped away from not only you but from them as well. It wasn't fair in any way.

"Don't interrupt me!" Raul shrieked all of a sudden, angered by your attitude. As he leapt toward you, phone in hand, Marc yelled something that got lost as you let out a startled scream. The next thing you knew, Raul hovered above you with the knife dangerously close to your neck. "Shut up! I don't want to hear this lovey-dovey shit, okay? Just be quiet!"

Beep beep beep

The call ended. Whether Raul accidentally ended it or Marc, it didn't matter. The line was lost and you feared that just like that, you would never hear from him ever again. Not another 'I love you' from Steven that he would tell you first thing in the morning. No more endearments from Jake in Spanish that always made your heart flutter with joy. No more vulnerable love confessions from Marc he would whisper to you when no one else was around.

For once, Khonshu was being useful. It was actually the Egyptian god who helped locate you. There wasn't anything that could happen at night that went by his sight. When even Jake was going bollocks over worry he felt for you, the god couldn't just let them run in circles and desperately try to find you. Raul Bushman was smart, unfortunately, and he made it near impossible to find him. Tracing the calls hadn’t worked and studying the background of the video revealed nothing.

Raul Bushman was well prepared, but Raul didn't have Khonshu. When the bird-headed god told Jake how to find you, he wasted no time getting a move on. After the video call where Raul revealed what he was about to do to you, it was urgent they got these as quickly as possible.

Khonshu wasn't too fond of you - or so he made it appear - but he was even less fond of Raul Bushman. There was no way he would let a worm like that kill you and also make his avatar distraught. The god knew that the loss of you would be detrimental. It would destroy his Moon Knight for good.

The Moon Knight suit came in handy as Marc soared across the starry sky, past the tall buildings in the city with one destination in mind. It wasn't the time to think about anything else than his next few moves. One wrong thought and his demeanour would falter. Your life was on the line here and he wasn't going to mess up now. And to think Raul Bushman had come back to haunt him and he didn't even bother to hide further away than the other side of London. The man was confident he could overpower Marc but that was a grave mistake. Marc would stop at nothing to make sure nothing like this would ever happen again. Had he been wiser, he would've killed Raul all those years ago during their run together in Cairo.

The location turned out to be a townhouse in the fancier parts of London, a mighty building that had stood there for hundreds of years. To people looking from the outside, it was beautiful and nothing about it really screamed that it was used by criminals. Marc's gut twisted painfully when he remembered you were in there, most likely scared for your very life. The way you had apologized to him over the phone as if any of this was your fault had killed a part of him inside. If anything, Marc felt as if this was his fault. You had done nothing wrong. Absolutely nothing at all.

Getting into the place wasn't hard at all. Instead, the trickier part was to be quiet. Marc wasn't going to risk your life by being loud and giving Raul a chance to finish things off before it was too late. The lights were all turned off, which led Marc to believe no one else was there but you and Raul. The people who owned the place rarely used it as it turned out the house was used for criminal gatherings every once in a while. No one lived there. As a hideout, it would've been wonderful if it was only used for hiding from regular people. Hiding from gods and their avatars on the other hand was much trickier.

By now, blood was boiling in Marc's veins. He felt like an enraged animal that was hunting for prey, following its bloody trail with a deep hunger. Nothing could possibly get in his way now. He squeezed the golden crescent moon darts tighter in a desperate attempt to remain calm, steering away the dark thundering clouds in his head that carried with them his deepest fears. With somewhat of a clear mind, silent for once as none of the alters dared to make a peep, Marc navigated down the stairs and toward where he believed you were. His pounding heart was the only sound he could hear, for now, the muscle convulsing dangerously and so hard it wouldn't have been too much of a surprise if Raul could hear it.

"Nooo!" You let out a deep cry, riddled with pain caused by the weapon that had just made contact with your temple. Between all the threats Raul directed at you and your own fears, you felt lost. You didn't know what you were begging of or asking him not to do. There wasn't time for you to gather your thoughts as this scary man was losing his patience with you and with Marc who still hadn't shown up. Despite his claims of not using you as bait to lure him here, you didn't believe him. Raul was looking for revenge and he was willing to kill two birds with one stone.

Knowing you were used as bait to lure your lover into doom only strengthened the guilt. Somehow that hurt more than the physical pain he had brought upon you. No amount of blood or bruises could amount to the realization of how sick and twisted this was and what part you played in it all.

The most recent blow he had delivered to you had been worse than the others, causing your vision to blur and you to feel ill. Your stomach was bubbling in a nauseating way and you weren't sure if you would be able to keep your lunch down for much longer. The throbbing headache was only getting worse and you noticed that you couldn't focus your vision on anything anymore. Was your body giving up this easily or was it trying to defend you from what was to come by numbing everything out quicker? At this point, thinking felt too difficult of a task. Raul was pacing around the room in his rage, probably filming you still but you didn't make any sense of it anymore.

Blood coated your tongue and that was what you focused on as you rested against the thin pillow, wishing you were at home instead. At home, in your bed, next to the man you loved. Instead of tasting the iron in your mouth, you wished you had a cup of hot chocolate that Jake was surprisingly good at making. He usually added a pinch of chili to the sweet drink and it tasted divine. You wished you were in a warm bath with Marc, getting your back rubbed by his loving touch after a long day. You wanted to listen to Steven's voice as he read you to sleep. Who was the god he was reading to you about last night? Taweret? That must've been it. The goddess of fertility and childbirth. Thinking of that in such a dark moment was oddly comforting, bringing you the tiniest amount of peace in the midst of fear you had never felt before, fear that made your bones shake and your heart heavy with sorrow.

Little did you know your last act of consciousness had alerted Marc of your whereabouts. Just as you slipped into unconsciousness, your exhausted body unable to take any more of the pain, you caught a glimpse of a pair of white, glowing eyes. He had found you.

Raul hadn't heard Marc arriving and none of the alarms in the building had alerted him. However, when the man wrapped in mummy bindings and with bright, glowing eyes attacked Raul, he could only feel excitement. This was his chance to defeat Marc once and for all, make him suffer like how Marc had made him suffer. An eye for an eye. Raul took that very seriously.

Marc grabbed Raul by his torso and launched him against the wall so hard it sent the man right into the next room. Dust from within the walls exploded into the air, making it hard to see into the other room for a moment but that didn't stop Marc who followed Raul without any hesitation.

"Took you long enough!" Raul got up from the floor just in time, spitting blood on the floor as he braced himself for Marc's next move.

Marc clenched his jaw together and threw both darts at his former acquaintance, not surprised when all they did was scratch the surface. Marc grabbed more darts from his chest, glad he wasn't going to run out of them anytime soon as they magically reappeared thanks to Khonshu's powers.

As Marc leapt at Raul again, the taller man grabbed him and rolled both of them around. When Marc fell to the ground with Raul, he rolled over and lunged the sharp moon dart right into his chest, ripping a string of curses from his enemy's mouth.

"You're gonna regret ever laying a finger on her," Marc growled eerily, twisting the sharp dart that had sunk into Raul's flesh, feeling how the man's blood soaked his white glove. Having mercy was the last thing on Marc's mind now. He was going to make Raul pay for his mistake.

Meanwhile, you were slipping in and out of consciousness, unable to stay in the dark when you heard crashing and screaming nearby. As you opened your eyes and blinked a few times, you realized what was going on and it sent a rush of adrenaline through you. Marc was there for you but you were still chained to the bed. Trying to free yourself hadn't worked earlier but now that your hands were covered in sweat and blood, you decided to give it another try. Desperately, you tried to wiggle and pull your hands free, biting your tongue when the action hurt. The chains were pressing against your thumbs painfully but you knew you would be able to pull yourself free if you just tugged a little harder.

"Fuck..." You cursed under your breath and then yanked your hands toward your chest. To your surprise, your hands slipped out of the chains. The adrenaline that coursed throughout your body concealed just how much it had hurt. With all the strength you had left and with worry for your loved one who was fighting this monster all alone, you limped to the dresser where the gun was. Bloody fingers wrapped around the weapon and you were surprised by how heavy it felt in your shaking hands. There was a hole in the wall and as you narrowed your eyes looking through it, you saw... Steven? Yes. Steven was definitely the one in the suit, giving Raul a piece of his mind with the help of his truncheons.

"You messed up big time, mate," Steven's choice of words didn't match the hatred in the tone of his voice. He didn't sound much like himself as he was blinded by rage, acting the opposite of the sweet and loving man you knew. As Mr Knight, he used all his strength to deliver a blow against Raul's gut, not finding an ounce of pity as the grown man cried out in pain. The sight was surreal but you couldn't look away. Whether this was a dream or not, you were glad to see it. Perhaps it was wrong, you just didn't care. Your moral compass had been shattered by the hands of the man who had hurt you the same way just moments before.

In the blink of an eye, you found yourself now looking at Jake who didn't let Raul fall on the floor. Instead, he held him by his crimson covered shirt and pressed his fingers into the deep wound Marc had made with his dart earlier, feeling how the blood oozed out of it. "That is for just thinking about her!" He pushed Raul against a bookshelf, the impact knocking the books all over the floor and the shelves snapping in half.

"And this is for hurting her."

When Jake proceeded to attack him again, you had to look away. Part of it was because you felt lightheaded and standing on your own proved to be much more difficult than it should've been. The other part was that Jake's violent ways were not for the faint-hearted to see. As you stumbled on the floor, it alarmed both of the men. For a split second, Jake was distracted as he hadn't noticed you getting up and Raul used that to his advantage.

As Raul tried to bite Jake with his sharp, metal teeth, something within you snapped. You pointed his own gun at him and pulled the trigger, shooting him in the leg before you even knew what you were doing. The loud bang made your ears ring and you dropped the gun, stunned when you watched Raul freeze on the spot. The bullet had pierced him and stopped him from going absolutely feral, yet it didn't seem to put an end to his wrath. Raul turned on his heel and tried to run toward you despite his injuries, seeing red now that you had shot him. Before he could take one too many steps, Marc stopped him.

All you could do was watch from the cold floor as Marc did his job. You had just shot someone. The gun was laying on the floor and you stared at it in disbelief, replaying the moment in your head like a broken record. All your pain was gone and you felt numb. When you looked at your hands, your own blood no longer felt like it belonged to you. Sure, you had shot a horrible man who was about to possibly hurt Jake but it still felt repulsive. A sickening feeling poured all over like thick goo you that you couldn’t shake off. It was useless trying to focus on the fight that was taking place right in front of your nose. The sounds of furniture breaking and bones cracking were completely shut out of your head.

Everything that had happened in just one night was too much for you to handle. There was only so much you could process at once. You had never hurt anyone before. Not like that. This was never supposed to happen. None of this was supposed to happen.

When suddenly Marc was kneeling on the floor in front of you, you finally snapped out of it. The passage of time confused you as you didn't know if ten seconds had passed or ten minutes. Marc looked at you with nothing but concern all over his face, every trace of anger far gone. Had he been talking to you?

"Oh baby thank god you're alive," Marc wanted to hold you but he was terrified of hurting you. He viewed you like an ancient artefact that could turn to dust with one touch. Seeing the evidence of Raul's abuse against you was tearing his heart apart in his chest and he felt each and every tear on a molecular level. You looked so out of it as if your mind was far away although your eyes gazed right into his. The innocent gleam had been chased away from your soul. Marc noticed it immediately and that was crushing. His sweet angel was hurt and he could only blame himself for it.

"Is he...?" Dead was the word you were looking for but couldn't say out loud. Would you be responsible for a man's death? Had the bullet torn apart important veins and caused him to bleed out?

"No," Marc shook his head. Not yet. Raul wasn't far away from it though but Marc was more worried about you than the man who was surely taking his last breaths anyway. The moment he had a chance to see how you were doing, he had taken it. What Marc hadn't expected was how bad everything was. Had it been wishful thinking to imagine he would've made it in time before Raul had hurt you? How foolish had it been of him to imagine Raul fucking Bushman would wait to hurt someone? Marc knew better than anyone what that man was capable of.

"Can you walk?" Marc inquired, not sure if he really wanted to hear your answer though. He wanted to make sure you weren't there to see what he was about to do in a hopeless attempt to grasp onto the remaining purity of your heart and soul. Besides he knew seeing death changed a person in more ways than you'd think. The last thing he wanted was for you to have to witness that.

As you remained quiet, now staring at your trembling hands, Marc knew he wasn't going to get through to you. As gently as he could, he wrapped his strong arms around you and helped you to your feet. Marc saw the gun on the floor next to a phone that was still recording everything, only now facing the floor so it only recorded sound. It was your phone and it was gnarly to think Raul had recorded everything with the ambition in mind to send it all to Marc. Ever so carefully, Marc guided you out of the room that would surely be in many nightmares to come and into the dark hallway. No one else had joined the party as far as he and Khonshu were aware so Marc felt it was safe enough to leave you alone for just a few more seconds.

There was a leather armchair in the hallway and Marc made you sit down on it, which you didn't mind. Everything happened in a blur and it was difficult to focus on anything in that state. He began ripping his Moon Knight costume, the magic bindings reappearing seemingly out of nowhere as he used it to wrap the deepest wounds he could see on you. At that point, Marc had to fight hard against his own body to hold back his tears, trying to stay strong for just a little longer. It was really difficult though when he was wrapping your fingers together to stop the bleeding of a wound that resembled something he had inflicted upon someone else years ago. Marc thought he had seen enough shit for one lifetime but this? This was crushing him in every possible way.

Unbeknownst to you, Khonshu was looming over Marc's shoulder and keeping guard - not that the god would say that out loud. It wasn't that big of a deal for him to make sure his avatar didn't get ambushed, right?

"He is still breathing," Khonshu broke the heavy silence in the townhouse that allowed Marc's thoughts to spiral into a dark place. Khonshu wanted Raul to pay the ultimate price for his actions and waiting patiently for Marc to get a move on was boring. The sooner they got it over with, the better.

Marc nodded to himself and then tightened the material in hopes it would stop the bleeding. "I'll be right back, I promise," He assured you softly. Marc didn't need to say what he was about to do for you weren't stupid. All you could do was nod, feeling nothing at all as Marc stood up and retraced his steps back to the room in which Raul was bleeding out. Not even fear as you sat alone in the dark hallway as your own thoughts drowned out the world around you.

Raul had severely underestimated Marc Spector, not knowing to expect the full wrath of a man enhanced by the powers of an ancient god. Not only that, he had enraged Marc and the two alters who all fronted to show him their rage. In his final moment on the cold, dirty floor, he was staring down into the barrel of the gun and then the man holding it, unsure exactly who he was looking at. Perhaps in some way, all three of them were holding that gun, all three men wanting the same thing - to end this man's life. Raul would never know who truly pulled that trigger.

The very last thing he ever heard was the scolding words of a man who took vengeance very seriously, especially when it came to injustices against the woman he loved;

"You fucked up the moment you decided to go after her and I'm not letting you make that mistake ever again."

Getting home and the entire process of getting washed and your wounds patched up had passed you near completely as you zoned out. It wasn't until Steven was putting one of his t-shirts on you that you really seemed to grasp where you were. Sure, you remembered glimpses of Marc getting you out of that building. He had insisted on taking you to a hospital as he seemed to have lost all care for himself, not giving a damn if the staff would've called the police on him and found out why he was covered in blood. But you didn't want that to happen. You didn't want to see any more people. All you wanted was to go home and be sheltered away from the rest of the world.

Jake was the one who cleaned your wounds. Luckily, they weren't too bad, nothing that would hold you back forever. What had hurt you the most was the mental toll of what had happened. Healing within would take so much longer and Jake was going to stay by your side the entire time. After he had cleaned your wounds, stitched you up and given you a bath, he wasn't sure what to do. It was late, the clock nearing the morning by now but neither of you felt like going to bed.

Steven was fronting at that point and he was worried sick about you because you barely spoke. Not that he was surprised or that he wanted to push the words out of your mouth, he was simply concerned. No one could blame him. The love of his life, the human version of an actual ray of sunshine who was never supposed to get hurt, was scarred so deeply. If he could turn back time, he would've done it in a heartbeat.

"Darling," Steven slipped the shirt over your head gently, making sure to stretch the fabric in order to avoid touching the deep, purple bruises and stitched up wounds. You barely lifted your arms to make an effort to ease the job. You didn't mean to be difficult or distant, it just happened. Every time you tried to focus on the present, a wave of utter pain threatened to crash against you and you didn't want that to happen, so you pushed it away. Prolonging it was most likely only making it worse but you were so scared of embracing what had happened. When you blinked, you could see the man's dead body on the floor, a picture your brain cruelly created to taunt you. Marc hadn’t let you see Raul’s corpse, but your mind was creative enough to give you a front row seat one way or another.

Although Raul had hurt you and stated he wanted to kill Marc, knowing he was dead made you feel strange. That man had been a monster yet you felt shaken by his death somehow. How much part did you have in it? Would they find his body and throw you in a cell? Would his friends come after you? After Marc?

"Hey," Steven could feel his heart continuing to break as he watched that empty look on your face, "talk to me, love. Please. Just please don't bottle this up, I'm here for you." Steven knew that if you kept all of these thoughts to yourself, that eventually it would break you furthermore. It wasn't healthy and yet at the same time, he was aware of the fact talking about it was possibly just as difficult but in the end, it would mean so much.

"He wanted to kill you," You finally managed to say something more than just a word or two. Raul had kidnapped you because he wanted to kill the man you loved that badly. Trying to accept that was hard as you couldn't picture hating Marc so much. Marc was wonderful. One had to be a true monster to find him so despicable.

"But he didn't," Steven reminded you, taking a hold of your right hand and he gave you a gentle squeeze as he intertwined your fingers. You could only watch as Steven brought your knuckles to his lips and he placed a soft kiss on your skin. The tender touch went straight to your heart, pulling at the strings that made you tear up. God you loved him so much and it pained you deeply to shut off like this. If only you knew how, you'd let him back in instantly.

Steven noticed the glistening tears in your weary eyes. "Oh love," it was difficult to keep his own tears at bay once he saw you like that. When you leaned against his chest and wrapped your arms around him, it took the man by surprise. Steven hadn't anticipated that but he was happy to hold you too, knowing you were finally letting your emotions out. Determined as hell, Steven was going to be your rock. In his mind, it was the least he could do.

When you felt his hand between your shoulderblades, caressing you gently and lovingly, you felt yourself relaxing against him. Tears kept spilling from your eyes and you were coughing in-between sobs, but letting it out felt kind of good as well. The tangled web within your soul was unraveling with every tear and every caring touch patched a crack in your heart. You were safe and nothing could happen to you now. They made sure of it.

As you thought of what they had done for you, an enormous amount of gratitude surged from within. You held Steven even tighter, wanting to thank him but you couldn't get the words out of your mouth, lips quivering as you wept. They hadn't only come to rescue you but they made sure Raul would never hurt you or anyone for that matter again. Having only shot him, you felt horrible. No matter how well Jake washed your hands, you couldn't shake off the sticky feeling that coated your skin. It seemed impossible to imagine how taking a life must've been like yet they had done it. For you.

Steven's cologne filled your lungs as you pressed your tear-stained face against his chest, probably leaving marks on the fabric but neither of you really cared. The familiar, clean scent was oddly calming and eventually, the rough and painful sobs calmed down. Your fingers clung onto his back tightly because you longed to stay close to him. His tender embrace and familiar scent was grounding you and every once in a while, Steven would whisper reassuring things to you. Being loved by him made you feel so lucky.

"Thank you," You managed after a while, barely finding your voice after screaming and crying so much in just one day. Your throat felt as dry as the desert but it seemed to be the least of your worries.

"You don't need to thank me, love. Not at all," Steven was genuinely surprised to hear that. He was shocked that you weren't running away from them actually. Why you decided to stay when their presence attracted such horrible people was beyond him but there you were. But you were together, even if you were to leave Steven was terrified more mysterious boogeymen from the past would come after you. Just thinking about it gave him an even worse headache than he already had. All he knew was that he couldn't make you thank them because truth be told, Marc wasn't the only one who felt guilty.

"You saved me," You looked up to him with red and puffy eyes, feeling sick of crying at that point. If only making it stop was that easy.

"You shouldn't have needed saving in the first place," Steven acknowledged, the words feeling like a punch in the gut. He hated that it was true.

They were all blaming themselves and you hated it. Sure, you had blamed yourself for this too but at the end of the day, Raul Bushman had been the one to initiate everything for his own selfish desires. There was one person to blame for this and that person was dead.

Steven felt a tear rolling down his cheek which he didn't even bother to wipe away as he looked at you with such deep love and compassion on his face it was almost overwhelming. What he seemed to tell you with his eyes did more justice than what a thousand words ever could've.

"Steven, my love,," You took a deep shaky breath and then lifted your arm to wipe his stray tear away, noticing how Steven leaned ever so softly against your touch. Hours earlier he had feared he would never be able to do that again. "Don't blame yourself. None of you should."

Steven didn't say it, but he instantly thought of Marc who had completely shut himself off. Not even Jake could reach him. Marc was loathing in guilt and no one knew when he would front again as he had made it very clear he felt as if he was a curse upon you. A wretched old affliction that was destined to continue causing you harm no matter what he attempted to do to stop it.

Steven blinked as the tears just kept coming. He felt awful because he thought he was supposed to be the strong one to be there for you but as time passed, he too began to process everything that happened. Had they been late, you would've been long gone by now. Tonight had been too dangerous, the worst possible scenario had been too close to coming true.

As you felt Steven shaking underneath your touch, you swore you wanted to bring Raul back from the dead just to kill him again. Seeing the kind man that you loved so much being in so much pain over worry he felt for you was like walking on burning shards of glass. You were just both two people who had been terrified of losing one another and you both carried guilt that you absolutely shouldn't have.

You cupped Steven's face, pulling him toward you as he willingly let you do so just to press a kiss on the bridge of his nose. Then you guided him to the crook of your neck, wrapping your arms over his shoulder and allowing Steven to pull you closer by the waist. The two of you held onto each other as if you were scared of letting of. The only comfort in the world you could find was in each other's arms. Steven inhaled your scent, convinced he could find paradise in the soapy fragrance. It was safe because it was you. You were alright.

Eventually, the exhaustion caught up to you. Your eyelids felt heavy as you leaned against Steven, not sure if you were about to yawn or sob as your lips parted. A yawn ripped from you and you somehow relaxed even more, unaware of how tense you had actually been. If Steven had let you, you would've fallen asleep just like that, in his arms where you felt separated you from everything else, the rotten outside world. The bubble he created for you was soothing, a place where one could stay forever and feel okay.

The last thing you remembered before passing out from pure exhaustion was Steven ever so carefully guiding you toward the pillows and tucking you in. Whether he kissed your forehead or you just dreamt it, you didn't know but it didn't really matter. After that, everything was filmy. Pitch black unconsciousness swallowed you whole and for a moment, the misery that had soaked into your every cell was far away.

Jake couldn't sleep. Steven had dosed off into broken sleep but it was Jake who woke up and stayed awake afterwards. It wasn't a difficult task for him to keep his eyes open as the sun began to rise outside. He had made sure the front door was locked and that no shady people were around the apartment complex. Jake had even gone out of his way to make sure their tracks were covered. All seemed well, at least on paper. No one could prove what they had done and no one was coming for you. All seemed well yet you were far from well as far as Jake was concerned.

He sat down on the bed eventually and tried to relax, making sure he didn't disturb your much needed rest. Jake knew the danger had been dealt with but part of him couldn't relax. Something cruel within told him people were out there, waiting for the first chance they'd get to harm you. So there he was, guarding you and at the very least giving you a chance to rest. As Jake's dark brown eyes focused on the steady rise and fall of your chest, he felt how deep, sharp claws sunk into his heart. Anger bubbled within him but to his surprise, that wasn't strong enough to push away the sorrow he harboured. Someone had hurt you and Jake couldn't comprehend it.

As you looked at your sleeping figure, studying the way your lashes touched your cheeks and how your lips parted a little bit when your cheek squished against the soft pillow, he struggled to comprehend how anyone was capable of harming you. Dark eyes roamed down your body, scarring every little bruise and cut on your exposed skin. Eventually, Jake looked at your fingers that clutched onto the blanket. He remembered when Marc had taken Raul's fingers as a wicked warning to keep his hands off of people. It had been a mistake to simply warn a man like that. They should've gotten rid of him then and there.

Raul hadn't just hurt you. All those years ago, while on a mission in Cairo they had come across surprise witnesses. People who weren't supposed to be there. People that the higher ups who paid them wanted to get rid of. Marc hadn't had it in him to kill a child but Raul almost did that. Almost, as Marc had stopped him just in time. That's why Marc had done what he did, hoping it would keep Raul from ever even thinking about hurting kids. Surely there had to be a line drawn somewhere, right? Not for Raul. Raul didn't care about who he had to get rid of in order to succeed with his ambitions. At least, he would never get another chance to do anything ever again.

When you yelped, breaking the silence that had lingered in the flat, Jake nearly jumped to his feet. He had been deep in thought that he hadn't heard you waking up so afraid. For a moment, you felt panicked and you had to pull your hands to your chest to make sure you weren't chained to a bedframe. Being able to move freely was so relieving but it didn't last long when you noticed the dull ache in your every bone and muscle.

Jake took a hold of your hand, wanting to comfort you in any way he could as you woke up to a new day. "You're safe, mi vida. I've got you."

Hearing Jake's voice made you feel so much lighter instantly. Although you had been able to sleep for a few hours, you somehow felt more tired now than you did before falling asleep. But it didn't matter. You enjoyed the fact that you were safe, just as Jake promised. Being home and completely shielded from any danger was a wonderful feeling and you focused on that instead of the sense of impending doom that was trying to shake you off balance. Nothing bad would happen now.

"Have you slept at all?" You mumbled tiredly as you sat up, trying to rub the weariness from your eyes. It felt like your body was on fire, not in a good way. Last night, the adrenaline had managed to dull most of the pain but now that you knew you were safe and had been able to relax, the discomfort seemed to have intensified.

"A little," Jake shrugged as he stood up. He could tell by the way you were moving that you were hurting so he decided to grab painkillers and a glass of water. As he returned from the kitchen with them, he gave you the pill and made sure you drank enough water. Jake knew how to be caring and attentive too, he just wasn't too verbal about it. Words didn't come easily to him, or when they did the timing wasn't the best either. Actions spoke louder than words anyway, he thought.

That day you didn't manage to get much done, not the next few days either for that matter. As the shock from the horrendous night still rattled you all, you could only stay inside. As the third day came around the corner, you were still mostly in bed or on the couch, unable to pull your head out of the dreadful place it found itself in. Jake and Steven had both fronted many times but it was mostly Steven who kept you company and tried to cheer you up. Marc hadn't shown up not even once after he had brought you back home. He hadn't come back as he promised. Not even when you were asleep.

Steven had gotten out of bed for the day, leaving you to slumber in hopes you were able to relax at least in your rest. You fell asleep again several times, only sleeping for a few minutes at a time when sudden fear woke you up again. It always seemed to come out of the blue and it passed just as quickly. The more it kept happening, the worse it felt. Around the time the sun was setting again and you still hadn't gotten out of bed, your anxiety was threatening to get the best of you.

Steven was in the kitchen, making something for you to eat since you hadn't eaten much at all yet. He wanted to take care of you and covering the basics such as making sure you ate was the least he felt he could do. As he stirred the pasta sauce, Steven had to really keep fight to keep his negative thoughts away. He hadn't slept well, obviously, and it seemed to take a toll on him now. He had almost lost you. No matter how many times he reminded himself that you were alright, he felt rotten to the core. What had he done if Raul had actually succeeded in his plan? Steven couldn't even imagine the scenario. That was too sinister.

The next time your anxiety awoke you, it felt like an invisible hand was squeezing at your throat. You sat up in bed and could physically feel your stomach turning upside down in distress. You bent over and dug your nails into your thighs, trying to drown your whimpers by biting your lips together. Only one thing repeated itself in your mind like a chant, you shot someone. You almost died and you shot someone. You did that.

As a sick feeling within you only grew worse, you forced yourself out of bed and to the bathroom. Unsure whether you'd get sick or not, you decided to sit down on the cold tile floor near the toilet just in case. That's when the tears got to you again and it was frustrating, making you entangle your fingers in your hair and scratch at your scalp. Why couldn't you stay calm? Why couldn't you accept that it was over? What happened had happened and now everything was fine. Why was it so damn hard to stay calm?

Marc. You missed Marc. He had shut off completely and it was devastating. Was he angry at you? Could it be? Raul had done this to anger Marc specifically. Did Marc blame you in some way? As wrong as it seemed, you weren't sure if anything could surprise you anymore. The longer he stayed hidden, the longer you were left to make your own conclusions.

"Love? Are you in here? I've made dinner," Steven's voice snapped you out of your thoughts. Hearing him was like music to your ears. He was like a warm blanket that chased away the coldness that threatened to turn you to ice. Your heart swelled in your chest with love for him because you were sure you'd be a wreck without the sweet man.

"Yeah," After taking a few deep breaths, you felt somewhat better and got up from the floor. As long as you tried getting out of your head, you were sure you'd feel better. So you walked out of the bathroom and let Steven serve you a plate of pasta although you were certain you could've helped yourself too. Steven was going out of his way to be thoughtful and as nice as it was, it made you fear he was doing so out of guilt. How long would this last? How long would you all be broken because of one man?

The two of you sat on the couch as you ate, mindlessly watching the TV that filled in the silent gaps. Usually, you and Steven would be talking nonstop and probably pissing off the neighbours too. Now conversation was hard. Just existing felt like a chore but at least every day that passed made it a little bit less awful.

"Steven?" You were nervous about what you wanted to say so you avoided facing him, instead focusing on the pasta that swirled around your fork.

"Yes?"

By now, you could feel the familiar heavy thud of your heart. "Have you heard from Marc?"

Steven wasn't a fool. He knew you noticed Marc's absence as well as he and Jake did too, if not even better. Until now, neither of you had mentioned it though. Steven didn't want to upset you any more than people already had. For a split second, he thought of brushing it off with a somewhat cheerful statement, but discarded that quickly. You didn't deserve that. You were hurt, not stupid. Treating you like a child and walking on eggshells around you couldn't possibly do any more good than it would do harm.

With a sigh, Steven put his plate down on the coffeetable right next to a book he hadn't touched in days now.

"No, not really," Steven admitted and dared to glance your way. "I'm sorry."

“‘s not your fault.”

“Well I’m still sorry, love.”

"Is he mad?" You mimicked Steven by placing your plate on the coffeetable, too agitated to focus on eating the rest of your food. The queasy feeling from earlier was creeping right back to you at an alarming rate. To say you were discouraged was an understatement, going through a cycle of sickness and dread ten times an hour.

Steven couldn't believe you honestly thought so. "Mad?" He had to be sure he heard right. When he saw the fearful look on your face, he knew he had. "No, not at all. He's just... well, if he's mad at anyone it's at himself."

"He can't blame himself for what happened!" You hoped that somehow, someway, Marc could hear you. "Gosh he's so stubborn sometimes," You didn't mean it in a malicious way, not at all. You loved Marc and you wished you could just speak to him and convince him he wasn't blameworthy of anything.

"Yeah," Steven pulled his lips into a thin line, side-glancing at the reflection in Gus' tank. Marc was there but he certainly wasn't saying anything. The man seemed out of it, his usual demeanour completely shattered. Jake was trying to convince Marc to just talk to you. Steven wished you could hear and see what he was seeing sometimes.

In an attempt to ease your mind, Steven moved closer to you on the couch and invited you into a hug. The people on the television were overly cheerful and giddy considering the gloomy atmosphere in the flat as bright colours flashed from the screen, painting the otherwise dark room in pinks and yellows. You leaned against Steven's welcoming frame and tried to stay calm, knowing Marc was in there somewhere. He'd have to show up sooner or later, right? He couldn't hide from you forever.

For once, it was you who was awake and Steven was asleep. Or at least you had been cuddling with Steven just moments earlier. It was a dead giveaway he was finally sleeping when you heard a light snore every once in a while between the deep and calm breaths. For a moment, you focused on that alone, letting the simple sounds of his breaths and heartbeat chase away the rest of the world. To you, sleep didn't come easy that night and neither were you sleepy. Just tired in every other possible way.

"I wish you weren't so hard on yourself, Marc," The words left your mouth as hardly louder than a whisper, as you did not wish to wake him up. The longer Marc stayed hidden, either too ashamed to face you or too heartbroken to front, you felt so sorry for him. It was killing you to know Marc couldn't bring himself to talk to you.

Fingers carefully traced the blanket that weighed over his waist. You rested your palm against his chest, needing to feel the subtle movement that kept you grounded to this moment. Slowly you got closer so that you could pepper kisses along his shoulder, inhaling his scent and enjoying the warmth of his body against yours. Even if you couldn't sleep, being close like this brought you some sort of relaxation and peace.

"I love you." Perhaps it was foolish, perhaps it was exactly what you needed, you closed your eyes and held onto him tighter, picturing a night from many weeks ago that reminded you of Marc. In your mind, it was that night and nothing horrible had happened yet. You were just close to each other, just two lovers enjoying the calm night after a lovely day together. There was no pain or guilt to be seen or felt.

The next morning, it was Marc that awoke to a new day. It was still early, way too early to actually get out of bed but he quickly knew he wouldn't be able to fall asleep again. Your body was pressed against his and Marc felt his heart sinking to the very bottom of his stomach. He hadn't been able to speak to you or even really look at you since that night. Now there he was, with an arm wrapped around you and panic stirring within him. Although part of him longed to hold you and make sure you were alright, it almost physically pained him to be there. He saw the healing bruises on your skin, now tinted in a yellowish hue. They were scattered all over you, each small and bigger bruise making Marc enraged. How had he let this happen?

Gently, Marc pulled the blanket aside more, revealing your thighs and seeing the damage all the way down your legs. He saw the cut Jake had stitched in the bathroom that night. Marc traced his fingers over your skin so softly he wasn't even sure he was really touching you. Memories of that night came back to him, visions he had been stuck thinking of for a week straight with seemingly no break. He remembered how scared he felt when he first saw you chained to that bed. Marc had been terrified when he learned it was Raul who held you captive. That night was easily the worst of his life that was full of horrible days and nights. That night he almost lost you, the light of his dark and gloomy life.

"Marc?" You hadn't been in deep sleep so when you sensed shifting next to you, it was easy to tell you weren't the only one awake. It had been wishful thinking to picture it was Marc but sometimes wishful thinking turned out to be correct.

You saw it in his eyes. There was a familiar look in those brown irises, a light that only shone for him. Then you saw it in the way he carried himself. There were small things that gave the truth away. It really was Marc. Instantly, you felt wide awake as you faced your lover, nearly afraid to blink in case he would disappear again. "Marc..."

"I didn't mean to wake you," Marc failed to meet your gaze, holding himself together by a thread that was just about to snap. He thought about how he had carried you, how your blood had stained his clothes and how he was convinced you would see him as the monster he thought he was after everything that happened. You were all he had and despite being right next to you, Marc felt as if he had lost you already. After everything that happened, he knew nothing would ever be the same and he blamed himself for it all.

As he moved away from you, throwing his legs off the edge of the bed so he was sitting with his back facing you, it was clear he wanted to be anywhere but there. The bed felt colder and despite being so close to Marc, it felt like there were worlds between you.

Quietly, you got out of bed, the white t-shirt being the only fabric that covered you from the night. Carefully, you sat down on the edge of the bed next to Marc, relief washing over you when he didn’t get up and leave. Instead, Marc sighed deeply and turned to face you, now with tears in his eyes. Tears. As if you all hadn’t gotten sick and tired of those by now. The fact you hadn’t drowned in them yet was a miracle.

“Marc,” You searched for his hand, intertwining your fingers with his for the first time in what felt like a small eternity. “I missed you.”

The words affected him more than you’d ever know. Marc could still not believe you weren’t angry at him. Knowing you wanted to be by his side after everything was simply mind boggling.

“I missed you too, baby,” Marc admitted, finally beginning to speak about what had happened. Perhaps it was the closeness that made him feel like it was time or the fact that keeping everything bottled up was slowly killing him, either way Marc was encouraged to go on. “Fuck, I...I don’t know what to say. I can’t believe you’re still here. I thought I’d lose you.”

“Marc-”

“What happened was never supposed to happen. I should’ve made sure of that long ago!”

“Marc!” You couldn’t let him sit there and keep blaming himself. Eventually the load he was carrying would break him and that would break you too.

He looked at you wide eyed, resembling a lost puppy. Seeing Marc like this was so unusual, he looked at you for guidance and forgiveness although forgiveness was something he never needed to ask for. It wasn’t needed in the first place but even if it were, you knew in your heart you’d forgive him a million times.

“What happened was not your fault,” Each word you said was clear and loud so that he couldn’t possibly mishear you. “The only person to blame for it is now dead and gone. Raul chose to do this. Not you, not me. He is the only one who should feel guilty.”

“You could’ve died,” Marc still didn’t budge, holding your hand a little tighter as he stated that. There was a deep desire within him that made him long to feel you even closer just as a reminder that you were alive.

“But I didn’t. I’m here thanks to you,” There were two sides two every situation. Marc could only see what almost happened and you were there to remind him of what actually happened, something he didn’t seem to consider at all.

“I could walk into traffic and get run over by a car tomorrow. I could get targeted by a random robber in a sketchy alleyway. Bad things happen and we can’t predict that. No one knows how much time we have but I know that no matter what, Raul’s actions weren’t your fault,” You didn’t mean to sound cruel but your words carried truth in them. No one could blame themselves for the unseen actions of the future. No one.

Like magic, something finally seemed to click in Marc’s mind. His shoulders relaxed and you could feel the tension melting from his muscles. When he let go of your hand just so he could envelope you in a hug, you wanted to thank whatever deity or god that must’ve given you this miracle.

Soon you found yourself on Marc’s lap, breathing in the subtle hints of his cologne as you rested your face against his shoulder. Marc held you tightly, but he was aware of your injuries so the man was mindful, not aiming to hurt you. His rough hand - now ever so gentle - was caressing the back of your head as his arm wrapped around you, keeping you close. Then at last, Marc let his tears rain down his face. The lid of the bottle was opened and you had knocked it over, letting it all spill out.

“I love you so much,” You whispered to him, repeating the confession a few times between soft kisses against his warm skin. You comforted Marc to the best of your abilities, playing with the dark curls at the nape of his neck and ever so often wiping away the tears that were running down his throat.

“I love you too,” Marc had to return those words, his heart set aflame from love and passion that he felt for you. It was a fire no one could ever put out.

Marc held onto you for dear life, wanting to feel your heartbeat against his, to feel your chest expanding with air. Your scent calmed him as he let his sorrow out. Although only a few days had passed since you two last spoke, to him it felt like months. Looking back at how scared he had felt made him feel sick. It worsened when he couldn’t shake away the image of you in that fucking room. That was something no amount of words could ever clean from his memory.

But there you were. Not in a creepy room at the mercy of one of the most dangerous people Marc knew of. No. You were in his arms, in your bed and no one else could possibly bother you right now.

To Marc, this was all that mattered.

You were safe.

A/N: Okay so I definitely didn’t intend for this to be this long but here we are. I hope you liked it! :)

#Moon Knight fanfiction #marc spector x you #marc spector x y/n #marc spector x reader #steven grant x reader #steven grant x you #jake lockley x you #Jake Lockley x Reader #moon knight #jake lockley #marc spector #steven grant #angst #hurt/comfort #raul bushman

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bluebirdsboi · 9 months

Text

He Won’t Have You | Marc Spector x Male Reader | 18+

Fandom: MCU

Genre: Hurt Comfort, Smut

Paring: Sub-Top!Marc Spector x Power Bottom!Male Reader

Warnings: Anal sex (Reader receiving), Blowjob (Reader receiving), Light teasing, Rimming (Reader receiving), Strong language, Unprotected sex

Word Count: 1,002

~ Requests are open ~ Taglist is open

!! MINORS DO NOT INTERACT !!

The crest of the night began to show with the moon above casting its pale light into the bedroom where you lay reading. Marc left as the evening had just begun to settle and you knew he wouldn’t be home until late into the night, so you kept yourself occupied with the time you had.

You were fairly engrossed with your book, the bedside lamp emitting its warm glow when the window opened letting in a cool draft. It was Marc, still clad in his Moon Knight suit, eyes glowing their signature shade of silver. “Someone’s home late.” Your tone was flat but still held an air of playfulness and sarcasm as you closed your book. “I know. Sorry honey.” Marc sighed as the bandaging around his body receded, planting a kiss on your forehead before walking into the bathroom to discard his clothes.

After exiting the bathroom in only his briefs, Marc sat on his side of the bed with a deep exhale. You could tell something was eating away at him, so you decided to walk to him. “Hey, what’s going on?” You carded your fingers through his curls as you stood in front of him. Marc could only lean into your chest as his arms made their way around your waist, prompting you to wrap your arms around him and place a kiss on the crown of his head.

After a few minutes of comforting silence, Marc lifted his head and you sat beside him, still keeping an arm around his shoulders. “It’s just,” Marc sighed and shook his head as his mind started racing. “When Konshu’s done with me, I... I don’t want him goin’ after you.” Marc looked into your eyes after he spoke with a look crossed between protective and desperation. “Oh, baby,” You placed a hand on his cheek, causing him to lean into it. “Hey, no matter what happens, I’ll always be right here beside you, and we’ll get through it together.” You reassured him before tenderly kissing his lips.

The passion began to slowly rise as Marc snaked his arms around your hips, slowly guiding you to the mattress while kissing you. While you were under him, his tongue made its way into your mouth to dance with yours. You were both left panting for air as Marc broke the kiss. “He won’t have you. I won’t let him.” Marc’s words were breathy as he spoke, making a vow to both you and himself. “Oh yeah?” A light smirk pulled at your lips as you hooked a finger around the dog tags that hung from his neck. Marc hummed a response that indirectly came through as a whimper before you pulled him into another heated kiss.

Marc’s lips eventually left yours and kissed their way down to your jawline, then your neck, to your chest and stomach before stopping above the waistband of your underwear. He looked into your eyes, silently asking for permission. “Go ahead.” With that, Marc’s fingers found themselves underneath your underwear, pulling them down to reveal your semi-hard cock. He placed more kisses on your inner thighs before licking the shaft of your dick to take it in his mouth. “Fuuuuck” You moaned out in ecstasy as Marc took all of you into the warmth of his mouth. Your hands placed themselves in Marc’s hair yet again as his head went up and down forcing you to lean your head back in pleasure.

Feeling yourself getting close to your limit, you lightly pulled Marc off of your cock by his hair, leaving him breathing heavily. “Good boy.” You breathily praised Marc as he made his way further down to your hole, lifting your legs over his broad shoulders in the process. He kissed the tight muscle before fully licking it, releasing moans as hums against your skin. “Oh fuck, just like that. Get me ready for you.” More moans fell from your mouth as Marc continued eating out your hole, slipping his tongue inside and licking your inner walls.

As soon as you both felt your hole was ready, Marc lifted himself to his knees, pulled your legs around his waist, aligned his hard dick with your hole, and pulled a deep moan from both of you as he slowly pushed inside you. “Oh my god baby.” Marc groaned into your ear as he bottomed out against your ass, leaning above you to rest from the overwhelming pleasure. “Does that feel good?” Your question elicited another whimper from Marc, so deep in euphoria that he couldn’t respond in another way.

After a few moments of regaining himself, Marc began to thrust inside you filling the room with the sounds of moans and his skin against yours. Your moans grew louder as his cock began hitting your sweet spot. “Fuck Marc, right there. Don’t stop.” You had to separate each phrase because of the intense waves of pleasure surging through your body.

Marc was close to his breaking point shown by his moans sounding increasingly closer to pleas for release. “Fuck, please honey I’m so close.” “Yeah? Me too, keep going, baby.” The need for relief became too much to bear as Marc continued and with a final thrust, you both shot your loads of warm, sticky cum, his inside your hole and yours on your torso. Marc almost collapsed, stopping himself with his arms just above you.

Both of you were a panting mess as you came down from your high, letting out a light chuckle as you gently placed a hand on his cheek. Marc placed a loving kiss on the base of your palm before resting his forehead against yours with a calm smile on his face. “I’m gonna go take another shower. And you’re coming with me.” A playful smirk adorned your face as Marc placed another loving kiss on your lips.

After getting up, Marc followed you to the bathroom knowing that you’ll never leave him and he won’t let Konshu come anywhere near you.

- End -

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Taglist: @houndsoforion, @jinniemyl0ve, @odetodilfs, @zoloft3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: I’ve added three new writers to my fanfic recs, so feel free to check them out.

#fanfic #fanfiction #smut #hurt/comfort #x reader #x male reader #marvel #mcu #marvel x reader #marvel x male reader #mcu x reader #mcu x male reader #marc spector #moon knight #marc spector x reader #marc spector x male reader #moon knight x reader #moon knight x male reader #oscar isaac

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oddballwriter · 4 months

Text

Read Me to Sleep

Summary: Marc has issues falling asleep, so he listens to you read whatever book you're reading because it lulls him to sleep. But some nights, it's for something more than just sleeping problems.

Warnings: Hurt-comfort. Marc being vulnerable. We let our man be soft and fragile in this house. He deserves to be held like a little sad kicked puppy.

I’ll shut up now. Enjoy! And don’t be afraid to request.

Word Count: 361 (it's small, but its something)

It was a habit that formed. It wasn't nightly it was an occasional thing for when Marc couldn't sleep because his sleep pattern was irregular.

You had a habit of reading, similar to Steven, and would often read in bed. So one night Marc put some things together in his head. Your voice helped him relax, you had something that would keep your voice a constant sound for him to hear, and he couldn't get himself to fall asleep. And that's how reading him to sleep became a thing.

It was actually very nice, for both of you. You got this sense of peace yourself from doing this. With Marc cuddling up next to you and being in range for you to use one of your hands to run your fingers through his hair and hear his breathing start to become slow and even. For all you knew Marc possibly never truly listened to the story and just listened to the sound of you speaking, but that was fine.

There are some nights though, when you know that it's not for sleep, but rather something deeper.

You usually sense something in the atmosphere of the room before you even get your first real sign. Like a sudden change in a nonexistent drift. That's when Marc turns to his side to face you and asks the question he always does, "Can you read me something?", but it feels different. There's now a weight in his voice that lets you know that it's one of those nights. His face says it too when you glance at him. It's one of the only times you see doe eyes on him, and they're oh so sad.

"Yeah, sure." you respond as you clear your throat so that you can have the right voice for it. You open up your arm that's towards him so that he can come closer and place his head on your chest, like you know he always does when it's like this.

Do you ever ask? No. No, you don't. Because he doesn't need you to talk to him about it. He needs your reading to soothe him. And that's okay.

#moon knight #moonknight #moon knight x reader #moonknight x reader #marc spector #marc spector x reader #hurt comfort

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pinchofhoney · 1 year

Text

just one word

gif is not mine, credit to the owner

steven grant x reader, marc spector x reader (hints of jake lockley)

word count: 3.8k

warning: disociative identity disorder (did), stalker theme in the lead role, hurt/comfort with a little bit of fluff

summary: You may not be aware of their existence having only met Steven, but no Marc Spector alter will let anything happen to you.

a/n: it’s not my favourite piece of writing, but it needs to be said - steven grant is my best boy, i love him so much!! he's my comfort character and even though it sounds ridiculous he really means a lot to me. i need real steven grant in my life:(( text in italics is a flashback!

my mailbox is open to your requests all the time. also, every like and reblog is very much appreciated!!<3

pages that may interest you: masterlist ♡ taglist ♡ who i write for

tag list: @wolfmoonmusic

You were sitting in a greenish armchair, standing against the wall of a room cluttered with books, starring at your bruised hands, while uncontrollable tears ran down your cheeks. The adrenaline that had driven your body to action just a moment ago was slowly making place for pure fear, and every creak of the wooden floorboards made you flinch as you glanced panickedly towards the source of the sound.

“Darlin’?” you heard your boyfriend's voice. You slowly raised your gaze to the man with the curly hair, who was now crouching in front of you, placing his hand on those of yours, “Can you tell me what happened?”

His voice was calm and his movements gentle. His face, on the other hand, portrayed both confusion and worry as his chocolate eyes wandered over your face. Seeing you take your hands from him in response to his question and lower your stare again, he looked around the room as if looking for someone to help him.

“Love, you need to tell me what happened so that I can help you” he stood up from his crouching position, helplessly placing his hands on his hips.

Meeting another lack of response from you, he sighed deeply, running his hand over his tired face. It was late and Steven had had two sleepless nights that you didn't know about. The only thing he was dreaming of at the moment was getting back into the bed you had dragged him out of with your unannounced visit and getting at least a few hours of sleep. The situation in which he sleepily stood in front of a crying you in his grey pyjamas wasn't the most comfortable situation of his life, but after all, he couldn't leave you in such a condition.

He glanced up at the ceiling and tried again.

He squatted in front of you this time without touching your hands, instead placing his own on your knees, “Would you like a warm drink? I have your favourite tea” he asked, gently stroking the fabric of your jeans with his thumbs. You nodded nervously, to which Steven asked another question, “And later, will you tell me why are you crying?”

“You- You've already met him” you said quietly, without looking at the man in front of you. The tears had stopped dripping from your eyes a while ago, but you slurped your nose every now and then, and slight hiccups made themselves known at even intervals.

“What do you mean, love?” you couldn't see his face, but you were sure he was wrinkling his thick eyebrows in confusion.

You were a student in your final year of literary studies and every day on the college campus you met hundreds, if not thousands, of different faces. The only people you recognised were professors and students who stood out in some way in your class groups over the years. For some time, however, you had the feeling that every day on your way between classes you met the same man with a rather distinctive beauty.

Between classes, because he was not a member of any of the groups you attended lectures with, and yet it seemed as if he knew your schedule perfectly.

The boy you've been seeing lately on a daily basis seemed like he could be your age. His head was crowned with a tumble of ginger curls and his face was adorned with wire-rimmed glasses. With his style of clothing, he was reminiscent of a classicist writer, and his hands were often full of books, so you assumed that he was either also studying your major or something similar.

He usually kept some distance from you, not accosting you or drawing much attention to himself, but the moment you exchanged a few words in the university library, you noticed that the redhead felt much more confident in your company. It was enough to let him sit at your table while you studied, and he started not only greeting you every day, but also initiating short conversations and even inviting you for coffee, walks in antique shops, or to his place.

Despite his friendly appearance and calm manner, something about him didn't sit well with you and you didn't feel comfortable in his company, so you declined the redhead's invitations as nicely as you could, but he didn't give up.

More and more often you saw him in other places besides on campus.

You'd see him at the café where you bought a vanilla latte every day before your morning classes. You would see him during the afternoon walks in the park across your flat, that you loved to take when the sun was shining outside your window. You even seemed to see his red curls flashing between the shelves during your weekly grocery shopping.

All this made you feel like you were slowly going crazy, but after all, he wasn't a threat, so you didn't want to tell anyone about him.

You didn't want to, but the moment you met him at Steven's workplace made you change your mind.

That day Steven was working until 5pm, so you agreed to drop by the museum on your way back from the afternoon lectures and then go out to eat together. Because of your timetable, combined with the writing of your final thesis, and his schedule at work, it was difficult for you to meet every day. Unfortunately, the 24-hour day was too short and your daily chores often took up a good part of it, so even quick meals eaten together were satisfying.

After entering the museum, you greeted the security guard, who you already got to know better, and with a bright smile headed to the gift store where Steven was an employee. You knew that his boss didn't like it when you visited him because she claimed that even if there were no customers in the store you were the one big distraction, so you made sure by peeking at your watch that there wasn't much time left until Steven finished his shift.

Taking the first step beyond the threshold of the store, you wanted to wave hello right away, pretending to be a hesitant potential customer looking to buy some silly souvenir offered by the museum, but when you saw who your boyfriend was talking to, you immediately stopped, and the whole smile disappeared from your face.

Hearing some small noise that you had caused with your arrival, Steven peeked out from behind the red head belonging to a boy whose existence you would like to forget and, seeing you, smiled. Before the man, who was unfamiliar to Steven, had time to turn his head in your direction, you shook off the shock and moved slowly toward them.

“Y/N, meet Frank. He will be our new employee” your boyfriend announced with a happy smile. You, on the other hand, looked at the presented boy with subtle confusion. Frank? You'd give your hand to cut off that he introduced himself to you by another name at the university.

“I think we already know each other” you moved your gaze to the cuddly toys portraying Taweret, standing near the cash register, when the redhead didn't take his eyes off you.

“Did we?” he asked, which caused you to look at him again, gently wrinkling your eyebrows. “I'm sure I'd remember a girl like that if I'd met her before” he gave you a charming smile and you blinked blankly several times without saying anything.

He behaved very differently on campus. He wasn't so bold, and you certainly wouldn't think he could flirt with you in the presence of your boyfriend. Or maybe ‘Frank’ didn't know that the man he was talking to just a moment ago was in a relationship with you? Maybe it was just some not-so-funny coincidence? Could this man's actions be called coincidental when he has been showing up everywhere you go for over a month now?

“Darlin’?” Steven's voice reaching you snapped you out of your thoughts. You shook your head in embarrassment, shifting your gaze to the man on the other side of the counter, realising that you had been staring blankly at the redhead for a longer moment.

“Yes? Sorry I- sorry” you said quickly, not knowing how to act.

“I asked if you would stay a minute with Frank while I tell Donna I'm leaving. Are you all right though? You turned pale…”

“Yes, of course, go” you answered immediately, ignoring the man's last question, then sent him a forced smile. “Make it quick, I'm hungry already” to emphasise your words, you glanced checkly at your watch and then followed as Steven ran to find his boss.

“What are you doing here?” you asked when your boyfriend disappeared from your sight, shifting your gaze to the redheaded boy. At the same time, you took a few steps away from him, standing in a way that people who were outside the shop could see you. You didn't know what might pop into this madman's head, so you preferred to take every precaution. The boy seeing this burst into silent laughter, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Aren't you happy to see me?” he asked, tilting his head gently to the right, with an ironic smirk on his face.

The boy who stood in front of you was definitely not the boy you had the occasion to share a table with in the university library, and now you have confirmed this even more.If he took this version of behaviour at the time of meeting Steven, how would he behave if you agreed to accept one of his invitations to meet him? A shiver went down your spine at the very thought of what could happen then.

You looked quickly over your shoulder, checking to see if your boyfriend was already on his way back to you, but when you didn't see him anywhere on the horizon, you returned your gaze to Frank.

“I just wanted to see what it was about the guy who often hung around by your side” he answered the previously asked question while taking a step towards you. “One should not judge a book by its cover, but really? A shop worker in a museum gift shop, who spreads the energy of a man in his 70s and a seven-year-old at the same time? You can do better, Y/N”

You furrow your eyebrows in frustration, hearing what he says about Steven, “And who would be better in your opinion? You, Frank? If my memory serves me right, back in the library your name was Nathaniel, so perhaps you'd like to explain your point about pretending we've never met?”

“I know the entire schedule of your week, and you're asking why, in Steven's presence, I pretended we'd never seen each other?” as the boy standing in front of you finished his question, you noticed his sight move to something behind your back. “Take care, we'll be seeing each other even more often now” he smiled in a fake way, then passed you and left the shop.

You turned around after him and, seeing his ginger head talking to Steven a few steps away, you walked up to the counter, where you leaned your hands against it and sighed shakily, closing your eyes, hanging your head down.

When, after a short while, you felt someone's hand on your back, you jumped slightly, immediately turning to face the stranger. This stranger turned out to be Steven, who was completely not expecting such a reaction from you, because he was now standing with his hands gently raised in the air.

“Did I do something wrong?” he asked confusedly, and you could hear a hint of sadness in his voice.

“No, of course not” you assured immediately, then bit your lower lip thinking what you should do next. “I think I need to tell you something… about- about your new co-worker” you said lowering your gaze to the floor.

“What is it, love?” Steven asked, bringing an even softer tone of his voice than usual and taking your hands in his. You looked at him again as he gently squeezed your hands, wanting to give you encouragement.

“Let's go to your place. Anywhere where we won't be listened to…” you looked around tentatively, making sure you were alone in the shop. Seeing your reaction, Steven also got a look around and then moved his hands to the sides of your shoulders to softly rub them.

“Of course, yes” saying that, he walked behind the counter, from where he took his jacket and put it on himself. “Donna will come to start the next shift soon” at the man's words, you nodded, looking nervously around the room again, then put your arms around yourself and sighed quietly.

When Steven's boss came to change him behind the till, you didn't even pay attention to her snideness directed towards you. At that moment, all you wanted was to sit down in a place where you felt safe and let out everything you had been hiding from everyone for the past months.

You didn't know the intentions of the red-haired boy who had recently become your second shadow, but knowing how he already wanted you, you were afraid he might hurt Steven.

After entering his flat and locking the door with all the locks, you quickly took a seat on the old couch and chaotically started to tell him about Frank, who is actually Nathaniel, but actually you are not even sure about that. You told him how you had noticed him at university, you described him your meeting in the library, as well as his nudging invitations and seeing him afterwards everywhere you went. You also didn't forget to repeat to him the words the redhead said when Steven left the gift shop.

Even if the sentences you spoke didn't always make grammatical sense, the man listened carefully while sitting next to you. When your runny eyes paused for a longer time on his face, he would nod, showing you that you had his one hundred per cent attention all the time.

That was one of the traits of Steven that you loved so much about him. No matter what was going on, he was always there for you. He listened to what you had to say. He helped as much as he could. You felt a huge amount of support in him and you knew you could always count on him. And in the same way, he could count on you, even if he didn't often take advantage of this opportunity.

“Darlin’?” you heard Steven's voice pulling you out of your head, where a moment ago the memory of his first meeting with Nathaniel was looming.

You blinked several times, shifting your gaze to the man's chocolate eyes, recalling what he was asking before you let your thoughts wander, “Could you- could you please repeat?”

“What do you mean by saying I’ve met him before?”

You were ashamed that you hadn't noticed Steven's exhaustion before, instead just barging into his flat practically in the middle of the night, but a moment ago your only focus was on being somewhere safe, next to your person.

“Nathaniel. It was Nathaniel, Steven. I-” you stopped suddenly, feeling tears starting to come to your eyes again.

“It’s okay, everything's fine, love. You're safe here” saying this, he grabbed your hands, which this time you also willingly squeezed. “What did he do?”

You could have sworn that asking the question there was some kind of change in his eyes and his British accent suddenly disappeared, but you quickly blamed it on an overstimulated and tired mind. The man crouching in front of you was watching your face carefully, with his eyebrows furrowed slightly, and his face, just a moment ago longing for sleep, was now more tensed.

“I spent half a day with Evelyn working on that project I told you about recently. We were in a cafe near Bloomsbury and then- then each of us went its own way. I was going to go straight home, but-”

“All right, let's skip it. What did Nathaniel do, Y/N?” you were not given the chance to finish because Steven interrupted you in the middle of the story, in a harsher voice than always. He had never interrupted you in this way, so you were a little taken aback, but seeing the hurried movement of the man's hand, you took a deeper breath and started talking again.

“I met him passing through the park, across from my flat. He- I don’t know, he was behaving strangely. He looked like he was drugged by some sort of substance, and when I tried to-” you paused to calm your nerves a little as your voice began to shake. Steven let go of your hands and stood up, now looking down at you with his jaw clenched with anger. “When I wanted to ignore him and rush home, he grabbed my wrist and started pulling me, saying some- I don't know, I was so scared, Steven.”

The truth was that you knew perfectly well what the man you met was saying to you, but you were unable to repeat it out loud.

“You should go to bed, Y/N. Stay here tonight.”

You watched Steven walk over to the wardrobe, from which he took out the clothes you always slept in when you were in his place, and then handed them to you.

“I have to get something done, I'll be back soon.”

You furrowed your eyebrows as the man returned to the wardrobe as if nothing had happened and quickly began to throw off his pyjamas, changing into a plain black t-shirt and jeans.

“Steven?” you asked, getting up from the greenish armchair and putting the clothes you had been given aside. The mentioned Steven, however, didn't answer you, which wasn't his style, so you confusedly looked around the room, not knowing what was going on. After changing his clothes, the man walked to the door, where he began to put on his shoes. Every now and then he kept glancing in the mirror at the same time, looking as if he was thinking deeply about something.

“Where are you going, Steven?” you asked, taking a few steps toward him. The man only made eye contact with you through your reflection in the mirror, without even giving you a quick look over his shoulder.

“He is not here” you heard, and after a while the brown-eyed man left the apartment.

You stood confused in the middle of the dusty living room, staring at the door that was closed a moment ago.

What?

You felt like you had gone completely insane already. First you had to run away from a crazy man who should be isolated from other people, and now your Steven is telling you that Steven is not here? Maybe it's just a dream? An extremely crazy dream, but still a dream? You began to carry on an internal monologue, while walking nervously back and forth.

Finally, you stopped in front of one of the bookcases and quickly pulled your phone out of your pocket. Its screen was broken, which was the result of the fact that it had fallen out of your pocket during your escape from the red-haired aggressor, but it was usable, and that was the most important thing. You went into the call history and quickly found Steven's number, then put the phone to your ear, listening for some signal. Unfortunately, almost straight away you heard a mechanical voice saying that the person you were trying to call either had their phone turned off or was out of reach.

You were awake when Steven turned up at the door to his apartment again. You hadn't even changed into the clothes you had been given before he left. This whole time in his absence you sat like on pins, unable to calm your thoughts. You tried a few more times to contact him, knowing that it wouldn't help anyway since his phone was off, but you didn't know what to do with yourself.

When he came inside, you were sitting on the edge of his bed, nervously stomping your foot and scratching the cuticle near one of your left hand nails.

You didn't know how much time had passed, but as soon as you noticed a disheveled Steven with a cut lip, you immediately jumped to your feet.

“Oh God, Steven… What happened to you?” you asked, rushing over to him as he backed up against the wall, kicking off shoes from his feet.

The man didn't answer your question, making it seem as if he didn't even hear it. You stood worriedly in front of him as he was about to walk deeper into the apartment, looking closely at his face, while taking it in your hands. You softly touched the cut on his lower lip, at which he frowned slightly.

“Sorry” you whispered quickly, as if the normal tone of your voice could hurt Steven even more.

The man standing in front of you looked as if he had aged ten years, during which life had shown him no mercy. He looked like a puppy, left for dead, so now it was you who felt obliged to take care of him, just as he did when you knocked weepingly on his door.

“We'll talk tomorrow, okay? Now let's quickly clean this wound and go to sleep, yeah?” you wanted to look into Steven's chocolate eyes, trying to find the answer in them. He instead took you into his arms, hugging you tightly and petting your hair.

“I'm sorry I didn't do anything about it earlier…” you heard his hushed voice, immediately noticing his British accent. “You will already be safe, I promise you that.”

After a while, during which you allowed Steven to hold you in his embrace, you both went to the bathroom, in order to wipe his cut lip. You didn't talk, but you didn't need to do so at all. You knew that you would have a frank conversation in the morning once you both got some sleep. Now you let things happen.

You wanted to ask Steven about everything right away. Not only about what happened to Nathaniel, but especially about his sudden change in behavior. You felt as if you were in the presence of a completely different person at that moment, but you refrained from bombarding him with a thousand questions, and after a few minutes you were both lying in his bed, giving yourself over to the embrace of sleep.

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bensolosbluesaber · 2 years

Text

Someone Like You: Part 1 (Marc Spector, Steven Grant, and Jake Lockley x Avengers f!reader)

Summary: When Moon Knight is captured, there is only one Avenger with the right powers to save them. You. Marc might hate you, but when his life is on the line that no longer matters. ~3,100 words

Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Adventure I guess idk

Pairings: Primarily Marc Spector x f!reader, Jake Lockley x f!reader, Steven Grant x f!reader

Warnings: DID mentions and lots of them, canon typical violence, blood and injuries, Marc calls reader a bitch and they fight but in a we’re both superheroes way, generally Marc is an ass for this part so proceed with caution, mentions of childhood trauma/abuse, disassociation and nightmares

A/N: I represented DID in this fic in a way similar to the show, or at least that was my intention. Please understand this is fictionalized and dramatized, but also please tell me if there are errors. Look, this was supposed to be more plotty, but I just wanted to get to the hurt/comfort part and didn’t feel like writing a big action sequence, so the plot isn’t that complicated. Also Nat is alive for this, and Bruce, Buck, and Sam all make an appearance:)

Part 2: Coming Soon

“We need you. Now!”

Natasha’s face is flushed and her eyes wide. She’s flustered.

Natasha Romanoff is never flustered, and that is the first sign that something is well and truly wrong. Sign two? That she is asking for you now when you had just used your powers yesterday. You are already exhausted, overexerted, utterly drained. Today is supposed to be a time to recharge.

But Natasha is so uncharacteristically panicked that you roll off the couch to your feet and stumble after her without a second thought.

“It’s Moon Knight,” she explains as you hurry down the hallway.

“You found him? Them?” You correct yourself quickly.

Marc, Steven, and Jake had been missing for days. They did that frequently, just disappeared off on some mission for Khonshu. But Steven always checked in with the Avengers sooner rather than later. He hadn’t this time, and that worried the team, apparently with good reason.

“Sort of.” Nat stops outside of a closed door and turns to you. Her lips are pressed together with displeasure. “It’s not fair to ask you this, but-“

“Oh,” you exhale slowly.

The pieces finally come together.

“You’re the only one with the skills to do it.”

You curse under your breath. Not only are you exhausted, but you and the Moon Knight system have a long-running… well it wasn’t exactly hatred, but you certainly weren’t friends.

For no apparent reason, all three alters avoided you like the plague. Your best guess is that they learned about your particular power set and wanted to stay far away it. Most people did, which was ridiculous because you had complete control of your powers and no desire to use them on your coworkers anyway. And frankly it stung. You had privately harbored a small crush on the handsome trio from the first time you met Marc, a crush that was clearly not returned.

All that was inconsequential now. Would they be pissed about this invasion? They certainly would, but at least they would be alive.

You can tell it’s Marc fronting by the tension carried in his forehead. His eyes dart around wildly as he slumps against a wall and slides to the ground. Obviously, he is in the midst of making his own escape even as you are attempting an extraction.

“Marc!” You hurry to his side and kneel down.

His deep brown eyes finally focus on you. He blinks once, then twice. The softness you saw for just a moment is replaced with an icy darkness.

“The fuck are you doing here?” He growls, slurs really.

The man has to be drugged out of his mind. His eyes can’t focus on you for more than a second.

“Where’s Steven?” His voice lowers as he looks behind you and began whipping his head back and forth violently. “Where’s Steven? Steven!”

His deep voice, heavy with that Chicago accent, cracks over the name of his alter. “I’ll help you find him, Marc,” you reassure gently and hold out a hand. The rules here are different, so even though you have no idea how you are going to find Steven Grant, you are trying to be reassuring.

Marc stares at the offered hand blankly.

“Jake?” He whispers. “I can’t hear Jake. I can’t hear Jake! I can’t… I… Steven? Jake?”

You reach for him and grasp his forearms, guiding him to a standing position. He stumbles into you.

“I’m getting you out of here, Marc. Come on.”

“No!” His voice is suddenly clear, and he shoves you backwards. The push sends you stumbling into a wall with a heavy thud. “Not without them!”

The impact actually hurts. You are so overtaxed that you are experiencing pain in an environment where you should have total control. This is bad. This is really bad.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Marc’s is becoming more lucid, his eyes filling with rage as he realizes what is happening. He rounds on you with an accusing finger extended. “I know where I am, and I don’t want you here!”

His finger jabs your shoulder painfully, and any pity you might have felt disappears. You grab his wrist, and start to lock out his arm. He’s wise to the technique and tries kicking your leg out from beneath you. You side step easily, but his fist finds your nose and throws you off balance.

Pain shoots through the back of your head as it smacks against ceramic tile floor.

Something warm is on your face. You raise a hand to touch it, and when you pull your hand back your fingers are stained crimson. Blood. This has never happened before. You’re starting to have serious doubts about this mission.

“Get out of my fucking head!” Marc stands over you and shouts, but you hardly hear him. You are solely focused on the sticky red stain on your hands. You are bleeding. You shift your gaze to Marc. Blood. Marc.

“Shit,” you curse.

You look around, taking in the elaborate hallway structure with doors on either side. You’d walked through a dozen hallways just like this one to find Marc. The organization of the space is masterful, unlike any you had ever seen. People could live here. People do live here. Kind of. Then it hits you, a realization that should have been clear from the beginning.

The blood and pain has nothing to do with your strength. Even weakened you would have control enough to keep yourself from injury. No, this isn’t about the strength of your mind at all. It’s about the strength of theirs.

Natasha, Sam, Bucky, and Bruce hold vigil around the bed where the Moon Knight system lays unconscious. Nat smooths a hand over your upper back. Your eyes are shut and shifting rapidly under your eyelids. You sit straight backed beside the unconscious man with your palm pressed to his forehead and fingers tangling in his dark curls.

“How did this even happen?” Sam demands. “Isn’t the bird thing supposed to keep him safe?”

A chilly wind whips through the room.

“I think he’s listening,” Bruce mutters. “And I think he did his best. Some other god did this. Khonshu defeated him, but not in time to keep this from happening.”

“How do you know this? Can you talk to the bird thing?” Sam asks, purposefully goading Khonshu.

“Thor can.”

A heavy silence settles over the room.

“She just mind-walked yesterday,” Bucky growls and stands so he can pace out his nervous energy. “And this mind is hardly a simple one. She’s going to come out a disaster…” he trails off.

If she comes out at all. That’s what he was going to say, but he doesn’t want to so much as speak the terrible words into existence.

But you hadn’t even hesitated to take the dive, to walk into the mind of Marc, Steven, and Jake even knowing it could kill you.

Marc is still staring down at you while you lay back on the ground, and there is no denying that he is intimidating. He’s dressed in jeans and a dark shirt, the same outfit he always wears in the real world. That fascinates you, but there’s no time to unpack what it means right now.

“Marc,” you say his name softly. “Nat sent me here to wake you up. You’ve been unconscious for days. Kate and Clint only just found you a few hours-“

“I don’t want you here.”

“Do you think I enjoy this, Spector?” There is no anger in your voice as you stand, putting a few feet between the angry man and yourself. You are resigned to his hatred. “You think it’s fun popping into people’s heads? I’m more than aware of how violating it is, but you have to come out of this and soon, and we didn’t see a better option. So please just let me wake you up and you can go back to hating me.”

Marc surveys you for a long moment. He rolls his wrist and pops his neck.

“Just get out,” he snarls. “I‘ll find Steven and Jake and we’ll get out ourselves.”

He’ll find them? The questions sticks in your mind for a moment before annoyance takes priority over the curiosity. You aren’t going to just ‘get out.’

You are opening your mouth to say as much when a heavy body slams into you from the side, tackling you to the floor so hard it knocks the breath from your lungs. You’re so banged up. These injuries better not be on your physical body too.

A deep voice above you is spewing curses in Spanish and shouting something at Marc. Your ears ring too loud to hear whoever this newcomer is.

“Let’s go, hermosa.” The man on top of you stands and drags you to your feet. “Run!”

And you do. You don’t even question who this other person is or why you’re running. You simply take off in a sprint after him. The newcomer wears a jacket and a flat cap, but that’s all you can make out. That and you have finally realized where you are. Well, you knew where you were the whole time, but now you are realizing just what exactly it is.

A psychiatric ward. But not the clean, modern type. It is the horrific, decrepit, horror-movie type. Brick walls that are crumbling, smeared with a dark liquid you assume is blood. Dimly lit hallways. Water dripping from pipes and pooling dangerously on the tile floor. This is their mind?

Marc grabs your arm and yanks you into a room. He slams the door shut behind you and immediately rounds on the stranger.

“What the fuck Jake!”

Jake? You know that name. Jake Lockley. He is the alter none of the Avengers have met, just heard of. It’s the same body and the same face as he turns to you. But his expression is less emotional than Marc’s. Where Marc is all rage, Jake seems to possess a more muted curiosity about your presence. He blinks at you, then turns to Marc.

“Whoever trapped us here Khonshu took care of. But the dangers they planted in the headspace are still very real,” Jake explains as he peeks out of the small, dirty window to check the halls for danger.

“Quite the academic you are,” Marc remarks dryly and crosses his arms.

“Steven is just a few hallways away. He can explain this all much better.” Jake pulls off his hat to run a hand through his curls.

“Steven’s okay?” Marc’s voice is the softest you have ever heard. “He’s safe?”

“Safe enough and waiting for us. Then we can figure out how to wake ourself up.” Jake glances at you. “You’re the mind reader girl.”

You scoff. “I call it mind walking, but sure, I’m the mind reader girl.”

“Oh you pedantic bitch,” Marc snaps, and the word stings. Even Jake seems shocked at the venom in Marc’s tone. “Sorry we used the wrong term while you invade our mind. Is there really a fucking difference?”

He doesn’t want an answer, but you want to give one.

“Yes, you dense ass!” You wish you could think of a better insult. “Mind walking literally knocks me out. My consciousness doesn’t just touch yours and pick up some things, it’s inside of yours. Your mind is all around me. I can access just about any part of someone’s mind when I mind walk, even parts they don’t know about.”

“And you wonder why no one wants to be around you.”

Somehow that’s worse than being called a bitch. Embarrassingly, you find yourself blinking back tears. You still remember the days you thought you could befriend him, when you had liked him. You think that in the past-tense as if that crush is long past. It isn’t.

“Be nice,” Jake mutters as he finally shakes off his stunned look.

“You know,” Marc starts, clearly ignoring Jake. “You can go. We’ll be back to the real world in no time. We don’t need you meddling around with our head.”

You don’t have to explain that though, because before you can gather your thoughts Jake interrupts, “Stay. I think we’ll need your powers.”

As much as you want to go you can’t. That’s the problem with entering the unconscious mind - it’s nearly impossible to get out without bringing the other person with you. If you were at full strength it might be doable. But not now. Now your fate is tied to Moon Knight.

“We don’t-“ Marc starts.

Jake shoots him a look and puts his hat back on.

“Better to be safe. I think the hallway’s clear. Let’s get Steven and fix this.”

You follow Jake, Marc not far behind. Your trio moves silently but quickly as Jake leads you into another dingy room.

“Steven!” Marc pushes past you and falls to his knees beside Steven. This alter you had met briefly on one occasion. He had been nicer than Marc, but he still kept you at arm’s length.

Right now blood drips from a gash across Steven’s forehead, matting his messy curls to his head. He wears a loose patterned button down shirt and a jacket with light colored pants. You look over at Jake in his dark jacket with an intricately embroidered collar, white dress shirt, and flat cap. Marc, as you had noticed earlier, is wearing his usual attire. Which means this must be how Jake and Steven would dress when they front.

From a strictly academic perspective, it was fascinating. You’d never mind walked into someone with such a complex psychological condition. Each alter had a physical form in their headspace, and it seemed to be like an elaborately structured home for the three alters. Most minds were just a space, some more organized and complicated than others, but certainly none as incredible as this.

“What happened?” Marc’s question interrupts your thoughts.

“Hecca priests,” Steven murmurs in that rich British accent. “Some version of them at least. It’s Set, the sun god. He trapped us in our own mind, messed with it.”

“But this isn’t our headspace,” Marc protests.

It is unnerving to stand in a room with three men who both look the same and entirely different. Steven looks exhausted; he’s definitely hurt. Marc is hunched over, his back to you, but you hear worry in his voice. Jake’s hands are tucked in his pockets while he leans against a wall and tries to act like he isn’t staring at you.

You try to follow the conversation. Jake strolls over to whisper an explanation.

“Normally we’re in a mental ward, but clean and white with rooms of memories and no monsters. It’s rather relaxing.”

“It is our headspace though,” Steven answers Marc. “Just twisted by a vengeful god. Wonder who got us involved with those again?”

He fixes Marc with a pointed and amused glare.

“Using our own headspace as a prison,” Marc ponders the explanation and ignores Steven’s snide comment. “It is smart.”

Steven’s unfocused gaze catches on you then.

“You’re here?”

Marc whips his gaze around to you too like he’d forgotten your presence.

There’s something accusing in his eyes. No, maybe it’s not accusing. Distrustful. Does he think you are going to hurt Steven? Or does he not want them to be seen so vulnerable?

“Yes,” you answer simply. There really is nothing else to say.

“Good. Because I think we need you to wake us up.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” Marc jumps in, shooting you a look that clearly says to keep quiet. “When we died, we got out fine on our own.”

Steven laughs. “Mate, Osiris loved our little heart to heart and brought us back to life. This is totally different.”

“How?”

“Well for one, we aren’t dead.” It’s Jake’s turn to argue with Marc.

“I can wake you up now, I think,” you offer.

“Alright-“ Steven starts to accept.

“Fuck off!” Marc interrupts.

That’s it. You have had it with his attitude.

“What did I do to you?” You demand, advancing on Marc who stands to face you and squares his shoulders. “I’m trying to help you! I’m your teammate! I’ve never been anything but kind while you quite literally pretend I don’t exist. Last week, I tried to talk to you at dinner, and you acted like you couldn’t hear me. When I walk into a room you leave. So what is it, Spector? My powers? They are completely under control. I just want you to not die today, so let me fucking help!”

“I don’t need you!” Marc closes the space between your bodies. “You are- you-“ He sputters.

“Marc doesn’t want someone like you seeing inside our head,” Steven jumps in much to Marc’s chagrin.

“Shut up, Steven.”

“Someone like me?”

“Someone kind, sweet. A potential love interest.”

“Shut up, Steven!” Marc bites out again

“Well it’s true ‘innit?”

A potential what??

“Not that this isn’t fun and well overdue, but the longer we’re trapped here, the harder it will be to get back.” Jake is the voice of reason for once.

He’s right. There’s a time to unpack Marc’s psyche, and it, ironically, is not right now.

“Let’s vote,” Steven wipes a drip of blood from his brow. “All in favor of letting her help.”

Jake and Steven raise their hands. Then slowly, miraculously, Marc raises his too.

“Unanimous. Brilliant! What do we do?”

In a lesser mind, you would have merely snapped your fingers, maybe literally, and woken both of you up easily. That isn’t going to work here. Their mind is complicated already, made even more so by a third party holding it hostage. Plus you are, as your trembling legs remind you, exhausted.

You crouch down beside Steven and take his hand then reach for Jake’s. He takes it and grasps Marc’s hand who completes the circle.

“Think about waking up in the morning,” you say quietly as you shut your eyes and channel the last dredges of your strength even as you draw on theirs. “What do you do? What’s your alarm sound like? Think about pulling the covers back. Think about opening your eyes to the morning sun. Think about the best parts of being alive, the things you feel - really feel - when you have the body, the parts of the world that are most real. The crunch of waffles. The smell of rain.” You are talking to yourself now. Or maybe thinking. It’s hard to tell the difference between mind and reality. Maybe there is no difference.

A warm mug of tea. The soft fur of a cat. Soft white wrappings. The smell of new books. Old books. Light falling across a museum exhibit. Fluffy pillows soft beneath your head. The quiet crunch of leather gloves folding around a steering wheel. Desert sands.

Wake up. Wake up. Wake-

You jerk forward off the chair, catching yourself weakly against the mattress before any of the Avengers can get to you. Bucky slides down to the floor beside you.

“Are you okay?” He demands urgently, and the worry is prominent in his voice.

“Yeah,” you rasp and use Bucky to pull yourself up.

“He’s waking up too.” Nat breathes an audible sigh of relief.

You don’t want to see Marc. Or Steven or Jake. And the after effects of mind walking are coming. Marc didn’t develop DID from a happy childhood, which means things are about to get bad for you.

You assure Bucky and Sam that you are alright, that you want to be alone this time, and hurry out of the room, barely making it to your room as pain flares in your skull. You crumple onto your bed and don’t even have time to cover yourself in blankets before it begins.

A/N: Part 2 will be so angsty and fluffy and wonderful. It is written and just needs edited, so it will be out soon!

EDIT: Part 2

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luke-o-lophus · 2 years

Text

All of Me, All of You

Summary: Steven's life is finally going his way, but he's feeling empty. It's up to you, his long time friend, to remind him he's beautiful and worthy of love. And maybe find love along the way.

Warnings: Some self depreciating thoughts. Mostly fluff, some hurt/comfort. Sooo much FLUFF!

There is silence on the other end of the phone. For a moment you think the network was iffy, but you can hear faint notes of traffic noise through the call.

"Steven..?", you try carefully, your heart already pounding in worry. Is this even him calling?...Did the suit fail?.... did Khonshu make them do something horrific, did --

"Y-yeah", his small voice answers, a cool wave of relief washing over you. He's alive. "Oh thank god, Steven, are you okay?" you scramble to a sitting position, phone clutched tightly. "N-no", he almost whimpers before adding "I'm not hurt, I'm home, we're safe." You're quiet for a few beats as you process that news before you say softly,"Can I come over?"

Steven looks like a wet cat. The tip of his nose is red, his eyes not meeting your gaze when he opens the door for you. You hurriedly prop your umbrella by the door and usher him to his couch, fussing over his wet hoodie and how he should have called you to be picked up from the university if he didn't have an umbrella. Steven's usually mouthy when you fuss over him, sassing you back, but he's awfully quiet when you sit him down. Before you can turn to get a towel, he has wrapped his arms around your torso, caging you to his seated form. You jump slightly in surprise, but his face is stuffed to your tummy, hidden from sight. "Oh sweetie", you mouth in the faintest of whispers, shuffling yourself closer to him and splaying fingers in the wet mess of his hair. You hold him to yourself, stroking his head gently, feeling the shudders pass through his form. He is weeping.

Steven never cries, Marc is the one who cries easily. As if once he got the license to cry before you without judgement or fear of being treated differently, Marc could not stop. You've even seen Jake cry once or twice. But Steven, no. He's so good at de-escalating tension and finding emotional outlets that it never gets there. You give his shaking body another once-over. But no, no traces of blood on his clothes, just soaked and stuck to his skin.

When his grip loosens, you kneel down to his level and sweep some of his curls from his forehead. "Come, Steven, lemme get you out of these. You need warm clothes", you try gently. This is unfamiliar territory, you don't know how to approach him when he's this vulnerable. Does he want to talk about it, like Marc...or pretend the moment never happened, like Jake?

Steven being Steven, doesn't leave you fumbling in the dark. He gently pulls you up onto his lap. "Shirt is drier", he says between sniffles, pulling the hoodie off and dropping it onto the ground. You nod, hoisting yourself comfortably on his lap, sitting sideways and leaning back against the armrest. He rests his hand on your knee, absently tracing with his thumb. "Do you..wanna talk about it?", you tread carefully. Steven sighs heavily at the query, his thumb not stilling.

"I topped the semester exams", he mutters.

Whatever you had expected or imagined, that was not one of them. You let out a small noise of confusion before you can stop yourself, and your friend lets out a bark of humorless laughter. "I know I should be happy", he continues. "But I'm not." He finally looks up at you, eyes heavy from tears and exhaustion. "I thought finally getting to study Egyptology, being chummy with the others, and...you know, the rest. I thought I'll be bloody happy", he shivers. "Today my professors say they're proud of me, but I...I...." He shakes his head and drops it back against the couch.

"You feel lonely?", you ask. A tremor passes through his body at the word, and you know you've hit the nail on the head. "I am sorry", he is almost pleading, looking down at your knees. "You're always here for me, and I'm being a...I'm so sorry"

"Hey, hey", you gently pull him out of his spiral. "We do not apologise for how we feel, hmm? And..I get it. Having friends and...a partner? Not the same." Steven hums and wraps an arm around you, your head tucked under his chin with practised ease. You grab a hold of his hand, dragging it away from your knee and playing with his deft fingers. "I just feel like I'm holding the others back. I'm with my books and papers..and they're so handsome...have you seen Jake?"

That makes you sit up straight. You were no stranger to his distorted sense of self, the way he hid himself and his body. But hear him say he's holding the others back? "Steven, love", you start, cupping his cheek. "You are handsome, gorgeous even. You know I wouldn't lie."

"You're just saying that", he dismisses you. "No!", your voice rises an octave. "No, hear me out." You scoot off his lap to kneel on the couch. "You, Steven Grant, have the most beautiful eyes of any human on the planet...uh-uh..don't interrupt me. You have the cutest blush when you're happy, and your nose..ooh" You drag a finger down the bridge of his nose as you make the cheeky comment, and he can't help cracking a smile. You smile back in truimph, continuing,"You have a voice I could listen to all day, hair I'd never get tired of playing with... and you have..pretty! lips!" You punctuate the last two words with taps to his lips with your pointer finger, and he ducks a little with a blush. Your cheeky smile softens then, as your heart clenches at the sight. He was so beautiful, so close, but never close enough to call yours. You draw your hand back, and Steven's brows furrow at the sudden intensity of your gaze. "Anyone would be lucky to have you", you breathe out.

There's dead silence for a few moments, almost as if you both have stopped breathing too, then Steven mutters quietly,"Including you?" You hold his gaze for a moment before chuckling mirthlessly and tearing your gaze away. It almost hurts as you whisper out,"...Especially me." But Steven's hands are cupping your face and making you look back up. His face looks wrecked, eyes so wide with hope they're bordering on terror. "Do you...mean what I think you mean?", he treads carefully. His gaze hypnotizing, you can't look away as you speak,"Would you like it if I said yes?" Steven shudders at that, his body melting into yours. "I'd be thrilled", he answers simply.

And that answer is all you need -- so simple, so Steven. "I'd be thrilled too, if you liked that", you bite your lips in sudden shyness. Arms engulf you in a hug again, pulling you back onto his lap.

"So..you like me, huh?", his voice is dripping with cheekiness. You sputter in indignation. "How dare you tease me about that?", you whine. He laughs then, a musical sound, and leans close to touch your foreheads together. The moments linger on, calm and sweet, right out of a sappy romance novel. Then his eyes glaze over for a few, but he's back soon, sitting back with a whine. "What happened?", you ask. "The others are being mean", he pouts. "Jake's paying up to Marc. They bet on who'd confess first"

#moon knight #luke shares #marc spector #steven grant #marvel #moon knight x reader #steven grant x reader #steven grant x you #jake lockley #steven with a v #fluff #hurt/comfort #moon knight fluff

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gooddaysmeanwritingdays · 2 years

Text

Bad Days

Pairing: Steven Grant x gn!Reader, Marc Spector x gn!Reader, Jake Lockley x gn!Reader Fandom: Moon Knight Warnings: Reader has a bad day and snaps at their darlings, hurt/comfort, so much fluff, swearing Word Count: 3.6k Summary: You had a bad day and your darlings take care of you

A/N: This fic is set after the show (like 4 years? after) where Reader and their darlings are in an established relationship. This is my first fic (and first x Reader fic ever) on here so I really have no idea what I'm doing. It also started out in first person POV before I changed it to 2nd person POV (so let me know if you see any errors

I also made a playlist for this fic you can feel free to listen to as you read this 💖

Divider by @maysdigitalarts

“How was work, love?” Steven asked, smiling as you walked through the door. There was a soft smile on his face—one he always greeted you with—as he stood up from the couch, but it faltered when he noticed your thunderous expression. “That bad, hmm?”

“I swear to fucking God—” you slammed the door “—if I have to listen to Gloria talk about her cat for another fucking minute, I’ll go mad.” Anger bubbled away beneath your skin, and you wanted to scream. “She wouldn’t stop talking, and when I finally got away, I’d missed my bus and got shit on by a bird!”

You threw your bag on the couch, not caring when it dropped to the floor, and everything spilled out. “I’ve told her time and time again that I couldn’t care less about her damn cat, but it’s like she doesn’t care! She just keeps talking!” You paced about the floor, getting angrier by the minute. “And then when I finally got to my car, I got stuck in all the traffic! It’s like every man and his fucking dog was on that road! And you want to know why there was traffic?”

You turned to Steven and he leaned against the kitchen bench, watching you patiently, warmly. “Why?”

“Because there was a fucking parade! But did they think to tell anyone? Nooo!” You threw your hands in the air. “How the fuck are we supposed to plan around it if we don’t even know about it?” You pressed a hand to your hair, knowing you needed to calm down—Steven didn’t need to hear this. “Ugh! A simple sign would have been nice! They have all the fucking voting signs up, why can’t they put one up about a parade blocking half the fucking road?”

You wound your fingers through your hair and pulled until the sting of the roots grounded you. You could hear Steven’s footsteps behind you as he came closer, but when he rested his hands gently on your shoulders you shied away. Hurt flashed in his eyes, but you couldn’t stop to apologise. It felt like the entire world was vibrating and your skin crawled when he touched you. You knew you needed to explain that it wasn’t him—that it was you entirely, but all you could think about then was escape. You needed to get out of there. The fastest way possible. Before you said something you didn’t mean.

“I– I need a minute,” you said in way of the only apology you could make then. “I just– I need a minute.”

Steven covered up the hurt with a nod and a small smile as you started to back away. “I’ll be here, love.”

There was a shift in him as you darted for the balcony; a tightening in his posture and a lowering of his brows as he watched you go. Your heart broke a little as you recognised the switch. After everything that had happened, it was still Marc’s instinct to take control whenever Steven was hurting. And it broke your heart to see them both hurting because of you.

You slipped outside, your skin crackling and soul snapping as everything caught up with you. It was still raining lightly, but you were too hot to care.

You scrabbled for your earphones, snarling at them when they got tangled. Eventually you got them out and into your phone jack, and it felt like you could finally breathe as your music started coming through the tiny speakers. It was a playlist Steven had made specially for your—every song designed to soothe the ache of your soul on the bad days.

You stepped up against the railing and closed your eyes as the rain tapped against your skin and the music wafted through your ears. You dropped your head against the cold metal railing and let out a long breath.

It was like today had been designed just to piss you off. You were good at your job, but today you had made every mistake possible. Half-awake you’d switched the good coffee for the decaf your boss left for the rude guests, then you’d sent the rejection letter to the wrong client, and to top it all off you’d then eaten Kathy’s terrible tuna sandwich instead of the curry you’d been craving since you’d rolled out of bed.

But after all of that, you’d still managed to finish early and laugh with your co-workers about how you needed more sleep. Because you’d been so excited to go home to see the one person you knew could make your whole day brighter that that stuff hadn’t mattered. Not really. Not when you could go home to his arms and just relax.

But then you’d run into Gloria from the accounting firm next door, and it had only gotten worse from there. It was like every possible obstacle and frustration had been placed in your path to keep you away from your darling.

You closed your eyes, your anger switching slowly to regret and self-loathing as you thought of the man back inside. Your darling Steven. The one you’d just snapped at when he’d tried to help you. The one who was never anything but good and kind and wonderfully beautiful. The one who always greeted you with a loving smile and a warm hug. He made your soul sing and your heart soar. The world brightened with every second he was in it, and you’d snapped at him like some hateful idiot.

Suddenly tears were pressing against your eyes, and you were regretting all of it. You swallowed thickly. You turned around and slid to the ground so that your back was against the railing. You pulled your knees to your chest and dropped your head into your arms atop them.

You were always like this. Whenever you got mad, you’d push people away. And if they tried to touch you it only got worse. When you got mad like that, it was like your skin was crawling whenever someone touched you—and you hated it. It was like you could have peeled off your skin just to get away from the touch of someone else’s skin on yours.

Because when you were mad, you just wanted to be left alone.

And it never mattered with anyone else because they never mattered, but with your darling Steven—it broke your heart.

You took a deep breath, clearing out the lump in your throat and tipped your head back to the sky. You and your darlings lived on the fourth floor, and the two floors above you didn’t stick out as far, so whenever it rained, the last two rows of tiles on our balcony would always get wet. Like right now. Right now, the tiles beneath you were wet and soaking into your pants, and the rain above you was dripping down your cheeks. And you loved it.

Anger made you hot, and there was nothing better than cool rain and soft music to calm you down.

Logically, you knew today hadn’t been that bad. Only Brad had been unfortunate enough to drink the decaf before he’d switched it, and the client had laughed with you about the mix-up, glad it wasn’t for them. And Kathy had actually thanked you for the excuse to buy lunch than have that sandwich she’d been dreading.

And on better days you didn’t mind talking to Gloria about her cat. It reminded you of the one you’d had growing up. You’d laugh about the copious amounts of cat fur left behind and the crazy runs they’d do after toilet trips.

And traffic wasn’t fun for anyone, but normally you could deal with it with good music and the windows down.

But today was a bad day. And bad days meant crappy moods and jittery limbs.

Your life had been full of bad days before you’d met your darling. Between your parent’s furious divorce and their absentee parenting skills, bad days had been constant growing up. But then you’d met Steven and Marc and the good days had started to balance out the bad days. Even Jake with his teasing had helped brighten the world.

But being in love didn’t mean good days forever. Sometimes the bad days would creep in, and the only way to get through them was soft music and cold things. And patience.

The cold rain seeped through your pants and the shoulders of your shirt, and you took another deep breath. You filled your lungs and let the cold and the wet and the soft music seep in, and you let out the bad moods and the jittery limbs and the crawling skin.

You took a deep breath.

And another.

And with every deep breath you breathed in the good and breathed out the bad.

***

By the time you opened your eyes again, the sun had gone down, and the drizzle had stopped. Inside, the lights were on, and you could see your darling moving about the kitchen. Even amidst everything bad, you couldn’t help but smile as you watched him. Your heart ached with how much you loved him—all of them.

Steven had been the first—the easiest—to fall in love with. With his shy smiles and passionate ramblings. There were many nights you’d fallen asleep to the sound of his voice, already head over heels for him—even if you hadn’t known it then. It had been like falling in love with your best friend. Easy, soft, and oh-so right.

Marc had been harder. After everything, he hadn’t believed he was worth loving, or that anyone ever could. And he’d been so angry. The number of arguments the two of you had had in the beginning could have started wars. But somewhere between those arguments, you’d fallen for him. With unwavering determination to do right, and that smile he’d give when he thought you weren’t looking—oh that smile could launch a thousand ships.

And Jake… Jake had been a surprise. Marc and Steven had only been half aware of him when you’d started dating them, but when you’d finally met him, loving him was like falling asleep—ridiculously impossible. Every second with him had infuriated you to no end. With his awful smirks and constant teasing, you’d hated every minute. Except not really. Because with every smirk there was a never-ending supply of morning cuddles and late-night talks. Falling in love with Jake had never been a choice—and certainly not one you’d ever change.

Because falling in love with your darlings was easy and impossible and inevitable.

And hurting them was like nails in your heart.

You could feel tears brewing behind your eyes again as you watched them inside, but you swallowed them down. You didn’t have the energy for tears now. All you wanted was to go back inside, into the arms of the men you loved and ask for their forgiveness.

You stood up, joints crackling with disuse, and walked back inside. Marc turned at the sound of the door and watched you—wariness in his eyes—as you set your phone and earphones down.

“Sorry,” you whispered into the quiet, knowing he wasn’t going to say anything until you did. “I’m sorry for snapping at you. Today was a bad day.”

He leaned against the countertop, setting the towel down slowly. “How do you feel now?”

There was a wariness in his posture that made your heart ache. You’d been together for four years now, and you’d had plenty of bad days—enough for your darling to know that sometimes the rain and the music didn’t always help.

And you couldn’t help but wonder if there wasn’t mistrust behind that wariness. You knew Marc loved you—it was something he’d never let you forget—but protecting Steven had always been his first priority. And so you couldn’t help but wonder if there wasn’t—deep down—some part of Marc that thought you would hurt Steven too.

You took a deep breath around the pain that thought brought up. You took your time, wanting to give him an honest answer. “Tired,” you said finally, shoulders slumped. “I just want this day to be over.

Tenderness flooded Marc’s features, and he held his arms out to you. “Come here, baby.”

You were in his arms in an instant, melting when he pulled you in tighter. You breathed him in and shuddered in relief to finally be home.

You pressed your face into the crook of his neck. “I’m sorry,” you whispered. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I shouldn’t have snapped.”

“You don’t need to apologise, baby.” He pressed his lips to the crown of your head. “We don’t get to control our bad days.” He wound his fingers through your hair as his other arm tightened around your waist. And just like he knew what you were going to say, he said, “And even if all you had were bad days, I’d still love you just as much as I do now.”

Marc shifted against you and Steven’s voice whispered through, “We all would, love.”

You whimpered softly at the love in their voices. Because that was always a worry of yours, on the bad days—and even the good ones. That eventually you’d push your darlings away. That there would be something that would finally push them over the edge and be the final straw.

But every time, they’d just pull you closer and tell you how much they loved you.

You pulled him closer and whispered, “Thank you.”

“Always, mi vida.”

***

It was when you started shivering that he finally pulled away. Jake cupped your cheek and tilted his head back to the bathroom behind him. “Shower time. Can’t have you shivering all night—you’ll make me look bad, mi vida.”

You snorted lightly at his teasing, making him grin that full gorgeous grin you so loved.

“There you are,” he murmured, dropping his forehead to yours. “Hi.”

“Hi,” you whispered back, leaning into his touch. “I missed you.”

He kissed your forehead softly. “I missed you too.” Jake interlocked your fingers and pulled you towards the bathroom after him. “Come on. Shower time.”

As he got the water to the perfect temperature—burning hot—you stripped wordlessly before stepping into the shower. You sighed in delight under the water, enjoying the burn to your skin. Jake’s grip on your hand loosened as he stepped back to let you enjoy your shower, but you pulled him closer, not ready to let go of him yet.

He stepped in behind you without hesitation—clothes still on—already knowing what you were asking. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer as he stepped under the spray. You dropped your head to his shoulder and let the rest of the tension melt away. Between the hot water and the arms of your darling around you, you could think of no better place to be.

“Better, mi vida?” he murmured, drawing circles against your skin.

“I’m always better when you’re around,” you sighed, leaning into his touch.

Jake let out a soft, choked noise as he pressed his face into your hair and pulled you closer. “Flirt,” he said in a strangled voice.

You smiled into his shoulder. You’d meant every word of it. Since coming into your life Jake, Marc and Steven had made every second of it better. Even the bad days like today were infinitely better than if you’d been alone.

“We’re better when you’re around too, love,” Steven whispered, holding you so tenderly you could have cried. Instead, you just pressed a kiss to his jaw.

Grabbing the soap behind you, he started gently massaging the suds into your skin. He took his time, and you were content to lean into them entirely. You closed your eyes and let them take care of you. It was rare you all had a chance to take your time like this, and you wanted to bask in it. To bask in the attention of your darlings as they planted soft kisses along your shoulders.

You wanted to stay like this forever.

You didn’t know who was in charge of the body now, but you didn’t mind one bit. You knew each of your darlings loved you entirely—just as you loved them—and in times like these you didn’t need to know when they loved you so wonderfully.

They let you stand under the water for another minute before reaching behind you to turn it off. There was a fond smile in his voice as he said, “Come on, baby.” He wrapped a towel around you as you groaned half-heartedly, your head still resting on his shoulder. He laughed as you tried to reach behind you to turn the water back on. “If I let you stay in until you were finished, baby, the world would run out of water.”

“And?” you murmured, not seeing his point at all.

He chuckled lightly and your lips tipped up at the corners at the beautiful sound. “And you wouldn’t be able to have another hot shower ever again.”

“You make a decent point, my darling.” You lifted your head slightly to level him a serious look, even if he could see the tired amusement in your eyes. “But I have an even better counterpoint.”

“Hmm?” He raised an eyebrow as he dried you off. “And what’s that, love?”

“Hot water,” you replied with finality, and he laughed.

He cupped your cheeks in his warm palms. “You are ridiculous, mi vida.” He pressed a kiss to the tip of your nose with a smile.

“But I’m your ridiculous,” you said with a half-smile, pulling the towel tighter around you.

He shook his head with a smile. “Yes. You are my ridiculous. Our ridiculous.” He pressed a soft, gentle kiss to your lips that you leaned into entirely. “Now—our ridiculous—how about we go to bed?”

That sounded like heaven. “But you’re all wet.” You pointed to his soaking clothes.

“And whose fault is that, love?”

You thought about it for a second. “Yours, darling.”

His smile was soft and endearing as he handed you your pyjamas before grabbing his own towel. You leaned against the sink as you watched him unabashedly. You didn’t even bother getting dressed—you just wanted to watch the loves of your life. To drink up every detail of him like it was the last time.

It was moments like these that made your world spin. That made your heart sing. Just watching the light of your world doing something as normal as dressing—and getting to do that, after everything you’d both been through—was beautiful.

I love you all so much, you thought as you watched him towel-dry his hair. It was so domestic that you couldn’t decide whether to kiss him senseless or melt right there. I never thought I could love someone as much as I love you. And I’m the luckiest person in the world to be loved by you.

“Enjoying the show, mi vida?” Your darling raised an eyebrow at you as he caught you staring.

You shrugged like you weren’t still falling in love with him every second. “It could have been slower.”

He wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you in to plant a series of kisses across your face. “Here I am trying to do something nice, love, and you’re ogling me,” he laughed between kisses.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and smiled—the first real one all afternoon. “You’re my husband. I’m allowed to ogle.”

“Ogle all you want, baby,” he murmured against your lips before pulling away and resting his forehead against yours. “We’re not going anywhere.”

Your heart soared at the words and your cheeks ached with the smile you were trying to hold back.

Steven brushed his nose against yours. “I love your smile,” he whispered like a confession. “It’s my favourite part of the day when I get to see them, love.”

Even after all these years, he could still make you blush. So you smiled. It was the least you could do for your darling.

“There it is,” Jake whispered, running his thumb over your lips. “Mi sol.”

You closed your eyes, taking the moment to breathe. All you could smell was their cologne; all you could feel was their arms around you; all you could hear was their heartbeat as you rested your head on their chest. You were entirely surrounded by them, and for the first time that afternoon, you were happy.

“How did I get so lucky—” you whispered, “—to be loved by you?”

Their smile was simple. “You loved us first.”

You pulled their head down for a kiss that held every ounce of your love for them, and they responded with all of theirs.

Not one, but three, you thought to yourself, utterly amazed at your luck. Steven, Marc, Jake—you three mean more to me than you could ever know. I love you all. To the moon and back.

You basked in their attention, content to stand there all night in the arms of your darlings. But after a moment, they pulled you to your bedroom. Insisting you put your pyjamas on—even if Jake did send you a wink—before pulling you into bed.

“Gay pirates?” he said the moment you were curled into his side, and you nodded instantly.

“Gay pirates.” Nothing would make you happier than watching Blackbonnet fall in love while you lay in the arms of the man you loved.

You pressed yourself closer to him as his arm curled around your waist. “Thank you,” you whispered as the TV turned on. “Thank you for being here with me. You are exactly what I needed.”

You didn’t have to explain that you didn’t just mean today.

You could see each of them shining through as they smiled your favourite gorgeous smile. “There’s nowhere else we’d rather be.”

A/N: After I wrote this, I came up with like three more ideas for these babies so this is definitely going to turn into a series haha

Let me know what you think 💖

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trickster-jpeg · 2 months

Text

Cracked At The Line In The Air, I feel safe.

Summary: Steven accidentally breaks his childhood teddy and it triggers a meltdown.

Warnings: Steven hits himself as a stim during his meltdown. Not sure of that warrants a warning but just in case.

Word Count: 1607 It's On AO3 -> Here

A/N: 'Ricitos' is just a term of endearment (usually for a partner, up to you how you interpret it) that means curly hair/small curls.

It’s broken. It’s broken. Oh my god, it’s broken.

Steven was laying in bed. It was the middle of the night and he was just settling down to sleep. It had been a good day. Nothing bad had happened, he’d been rather at ease, enjoying going about his day with minimal interference. He’d rolled over to lay down on his side and seen his childhood teddy tipped over, having fallen onto the floor. It was a fuzzy small elephant called Nellie. The stuffing distributed unevenly and one of the ears slightly worse for wear than the other due to constant chewing as a child, but it was still whole. It had small black beads for eyes, a stubby little trunk, and two tiny white mounds either side of its face for tusks. Not wanting her to be lonely, because he still had a tendency to anthropomorphize things, he went to pick her up and place her back on her spot on the bed.

Despite having had it for decades, it was still in relatively solid condition. He’d put effort into maintaining its state and was rather chuffed with himself at having had her for so long with minimal incidents. Which is why it was all the more heartbreaking when one of the seams on its neck had stuck out and gotten caught in the floorboards. He had no idea how, but it did, and when he grabbed her to pull her upwards it started to tug. Something he had realised far too late to stop it from happening.

The seam had stayed wedged firmly in the crack and as soon as the force of pulling the toy was applied, it started to unravel. In an instant, the body started to separate from the head, the old stuffing starting to tip and pile out onto the floor beneath itself. The stitches snapped as the neck stayed stuck to the ground, disconnecting from the main body and tugging a front arm off along with it.

His brain stopped dead in its tracks, physically incapable of processing what had just happened. It was almost as if time had slowed as Steven watched the events unfold in absolute horror. He froze instantly, eyes bulging as his mouth hung open with shock. A tremble immediately started to zap through his hand as his fingers loosened from a firm clasp around the worn but soft body of the toy, to a lax and limp claw that was just barely holding it. It was only as it tumbled out of his grip to lay with the rest of itself, surrounded by the stuffing that was once inside, that Steven lunged at the broken object, his heart pounding out of his chest as he frantically tried to gather all of the pieces together in his arms.

“No. No, no, no, no- NO- NO!”

His lungs constricted as his breathing instantly got caught, fractured breaths intermingling with the rising nausea and swirled around like the ocean in a storm. Broken sounding words flooded from his mouth as he stuttered to get them out in a desperate attempt to relieve some of the crushing pressure growing like a lump in his throat. They got muddled and stuck, his tongue getting in the way as he tried to stammer anything new, but was unable to get them out in a way that felt right. His mouth quickly flooded with the crimson metallic taste of blood as he bit down on his cheek, his jaw crunching down in a moment of shock as he tried to process what just happened.

Fat globules of tears poured down his face as he desperately willed the pieces to form back together, to undo it all and fix itself. His breaths heaved as he continued to work himself up, bawling harder and harder as he grasped the pieces impossibly closer to him. The sudden heartbreak was painful, physically painful and even more so psychologically. He felt the disparaging familiarity of dissociation grip him, his brain disconnecting from his body as he started to heave strangled sobs, whimpering pleas for the elephant to be okay. For his Nellie to be all better again.

He couldn’t lose her, she’d been there for him since he was a kid. She was the only thing that could calm him down when things got too bad, something not even his headmates could fully manage to do. Meltdowns, flashbacks, nightmares, panic attacks. Even just giving him something to cry into when a character he liked in a film died, or just something to fall asleep with when he needed to. He didn’t care that people might see it as childish, after everything the system had been through when they were supposed to have been a child, he thought they should almost be owed it to make up for lost time. But Nellie was something from his childhood. Their childhood. Which is why it was all the more painful that she was now broken apart and torn in his arms.

Gradually, he felt his body begin to rock back and forwards, his breathing trying to match the motions frantically at the sudden awareness he really wasn’t breathing right. How could he have been so careless? How stupid could he have been to just destroy one of his most treasured items? One of the only truly, wholly good things they had from their parents, from their little brother, and he’d gone and broken it. Bringing the main body of the teddy to his face, he pressed it against his skin and started to muffle his cries, the pain steadily shifting into a burning anger. Anger that he could blame no one for but himself.

His brows furrowed in irritation as a swelling burning flashed in his chest, his grip tightened around the material painfully as the rage towards himself grew. The feeling began to burst through his limbs as he clenched his jaw almost painfully, grinding his teeth in annoyance as tears kept trickling down his face. Through huffed breaths, a guttural rumble rose in his oesophagus and tore up his throat in a furious roar.

“FUCK! HOW COULD I BE SO FUCKING STUPID? WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH ME? FUCKING STUPID- USELESS- WORTHLESS FUCKING- FUCK-”

In an instant, he raised his arms up with fists balled and started to bash them against the side of his head. The motion was repetitive and a bit painful, but soothing in a way. He carried on letting random, frustrated words and whines fumble out of his lips as his body took over. Tears and snot dripped down his face as he continued to hit his temples, sobbing in bitterness as a crash of self-hatred pooled in his chest. Briefly, he thought he heard someone speaking to him but he couldn’t figure out what they were saying.

There was a new resistance in his arms, something that pulled them back and made them feel not quite right. That made him almost struggle to do the thing that was soothing him. That was helping. Made it feel like it wasn’t helping. Like it was almost worse. He didn’t like it, it felt restraining. So instead moved them away and sat on his hands, trying to mitigate the uncomfortable feeling that stopped them with pressure. Continued to rock back and forth, to make the noises that climbed up his throat.

“Steven. It’s going to be okay. We can fix it. It’s alright.”

He shook his head disparagingly at the words, too overwhelmed to be able to form anything comprehensible. His legs bounced rhythmically as he tried to convey what he wanted to say, tried desperately to grasp at words and throw them out in a way that made sense. That helped him explain that it wasn’t alright and that it couldn’t be fixed. That he couldn’t fix it and it was too late for anything to be saved. But in some way he felt as though the speaker understood his thoughts regardless of whether or not they were spoken, and the gravelled voice spoke again. Accompanied by someone else.

“It might not feel like it, but this’ll pass and we can stitch her up. She’ll be fine, it was an accident, Steven. You’re not stupid or useless, it was a mistake.”

“He’s right, ricitos. We can fix our fluffy friend. Maybe even get her some new stuffing and fill it out properly again.”

As the voices spoke, they projected feelings of warmth. There was a contrast between their comfort and the gradual dimming of the burning that had been exploding in his chest. Whatever it was, it was nice. It was kind. Caring. And they said they could fix it. They could fix Nellie. He just needed to try and calm down so that they could. Gently, he felt himself move off of sitting on his hands. Felt them start to lift and snake up to wrap around him and hold him in a way that felt good. That felt safe. Protected. It felt like he could just let go.

He didn’t want to feel this way anymore. Didn’t want to feel any of it. And somehow he knew they would be able to help him stop feeling that way. They’d be able to fix it for him, they could fix Nellie. Stop him from causing more damage to their belongings and their body. He didn’t mean for it to happen, he never meant to hurt them, never meant to hurt himself. But he just couldn’t help it. So, that’s what he did. He let the pair take his place, and went into the back.

#moon knight #moon knight system #moon knight fanfic #steven grant #jake lockley #marc spector #autistic steven grant #(Marc & Jake are as well but this is just focused on Steven)#my fic #ao3 #hurt/comfort #meltdowns #we stan Nellie the elephant here #writing

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romanarose · 1 year

Note

Hi ma’am, I’m not even sure if I can request things, and feel free to ignore this if I can’t (so sorry). But if you do take request, may I asked for a story where the reader sees mark attack/kill someone or something and gets scared of him? Where the reader avoids them like the plague until Steven breaks down one day on the door step or something? I dunno, sorry again if you don’t take request. Thanks for reading this, and feel free to change it up. Buh-bye, ma’am.

First off can I say im SO SORRY this has been in my ask for like. a month. more. I would like to blame it on school and work, but I can't. I just kept getting distracted with other fics and forgetting. BUT I love this idea!

My asks absolutly are open, it just might take me a min XD

Anyway, I took a little creative liberty with this. A lot of my fics deal with the man being protective of the reader/oc but I loved this idea bc it deals with what if it goes too far?

I'm terrible at names for one shots so

Nothing Alike

Marc Spector/Steven Grant/Jake Lockley x reader

Warnings: violence, blood, Marc Spector typical shenanigans, cat calling, street harassment

****************

“Babe come on! You can’t possibly look me in the fucking eye and tell me episode fucking III is your favorite Star Wars movie!” Marc Spector held your hand as you walked down the streets of the city, just coming home from the local theater’s special reshowing of Revenge of the Sith.

“Oh I most definitely can, because it is!” You defended, giggling.

“Because of Obi-Wan?” Marc mimics Anakin in the movie. For someone who claimed to hate the prequels, he certainly knew a lot of lines.

You scoff “Oh please babe, you know damn well I like my men a little more dark and brooding” You leverage his hand to pull him closer, giving him a kiss on the cheek.

“Ah! So, you just like me because of your childhood crush on another murderer”

“Marc!” You stop him on the street. He looks apologetic, he knows what he did. “You know I don’t like it when you call yourself that.”

Marc opened his mouth to argue, but when he saw you looking so hurt, he couldn’t. You loved him and you thought the world of him, you, Steven and Jake somehow managed to see past the worst of him. “I know. I’m sorry.”

“You do, remind me of him.” You both of his hands, squeezing them tight. “Because you are both passionate, loving, and protective of those you love. I see all your good traits in him. Okay?”

He nodded. “Okay.”

You pulled him in for kiss on the lips as his hands went to your arms. “Jesus baby, you’re cold.” He took off his jacket and gave it to you. You wanted to argue that no, it’s his jacket, he must be cold too, and you should’ve thought to bring one sing you knew you’d be walking back late at night. But… it smelled like him.

“Now.” You continue with a smile. “One thing I think we can both agree on is that duel.”

You begin chattering about the movie again, Marc sporting a wide grin the whole time. When you saw a man walking towards the two of you, on instinct you latched onto Marc, him pulling you close in a protective grasp. The man passed you, and your peripheral vision caught him blatantly checking you out.

“Daaaaayum mama, whatcha doing with all that ass?”

Marc whipped around. “What did you just say?”

You gripped him tighter. “Marc, don’t.” You were grateful that Marc always watched out for you, but you knew his temper could be as hot as hell.

Marc wasn’t even looking at you. “What. Did. You. Say?” He asserted.

The man raised his hands defensively. “Hey man, just passing a compliment. She shouldn’t dress like a whore if she doesn’t want to get-” He never got to finish the sentence.

Marc charged on him as soon as he called you a whore. His fury was a white hot blinding rage, incapable of hearing anything, whether it be the man or you, both begging him to stop.

The man went down like a paper doll, barely any resistance. One punch. Another. Another.

“Marc stop! That’s enough!” You shriek. He didn’t need to do this. A good, strong punch to teach a lesson, sure. A few more might be justified if he had actually touched you, but this? For a catcall? He was younger, early 20’s maybe, perhaps even late teens. Old enough to know better, but not old enough to suffer whatever permanent damage Marc was inflicting.

Blood was covering the man's face from his nose and mouth sputtering blood, but this only seemed to spur Marc on more. That’s when you realized it. He was going to kill him. He was trying to kill him.

You want to touch him, put a hand on his shoulder, knowing how your touch always calmed him… but as you watched the ferocity in which Marc was attacking the man… you couldn’t trust that you wouldn’t get caught in the crossfire with the man. He would never hurt you on purpose, but the look on his face… it was like it wasn’t even him.

“STEVEN! JAKE!” You scream for your other boyfriends. “STOP HIM!! He’s going to kill him!”

Marc began to falter as he, you assumed, fought for control. It was Jake that took the body in the end, having more experience stealing control out from under Marc.

He collapsed back onto the concrete, wide-eyed and panting. You rush to the man on the ground, checking his pulse. “Thank god.” You breathe out, taking his phone out of his pocket.

“What are you doing?” Jake asks, sitting up. “We need to go.” “He’s unconscious, I need to call for an ambulance” You hold the phone to the man’s face. Not recognition. “Hold a light to his face so I can get this phone to work.”

Jake stood up, trying to pull on you. “I will call from my apartment, I need to get you home.” He insisted.

You groan, frustrated that they never fucking listen. “If you call from your phone they’ll ask questions, they’ll have your number and they’ll question you! Your fucking fists are split open, they'll fucking know!”

“Then just leave him” Jake pulled on you again.

You smack his leg, “Let go!” You didn’t want his hands on you right now. “And get me a fucking light!”

He was knelt down at you, phone lighting the man’s face. You knew right away it was Steven. It worked, and you called 911 from the man’s phone, told them a man was beat up on the street and the address, then you hung up.

“Let’s go” You shakily breath out.

“Of course, love.” He goes to touch you, but stops when you flinch.

“Just… can you just walk behind me, Steven?” You were trembling. He wanted to hold you, he wanted to assure you everything was okay, that you were safe… but the way you flinched…

She’s shaking…

Tell her it’s okay, tell her he can’t hurt her

Jesus christ Marc, she’s not scared of the man.

What are you talking about?

She’s scared of you, pendejo.

“Yeah, yeah darling, whatever you need”

Marc and Jake were abnormally silent the whole walk, as were you. When you got back to your apartment, Steven started to step in, but you held out a hand. “I- I-m tired, Steven”

He hesitated, not wanting to leave you alone after all that. “That’s okay, we can just go right to bed.”

You shook your head. “No, no I think I’m just gonna spend the night alone tonight.”

“Darling, I don’t want to leave you alone after-”

“Then skulk around outside or something, fuck!” You shout, then regain your composure. This wasn’t Steven’s fault. “Sorry, sorry, sorry… I just, need to decompress, okay? I’ll call you tomorrow?”

But you didn’t. They waited the entire day for you to call. Nothing.

On the second day Steven called you. He gave you the first day to “decompress” as you said. The third day Jake tried, leaving a very apologetic voice message.

‘Amor, please just call us back, we just want to know you’re okay’ it went on another 2 minuets.

The calls continued for days.

Marc, you should call

She doesn’t want to hear from me.

Enough self pity. I’m tired of it. You need to call her and make things right.

Maybe he’s right, maybe it’s not a good idea. She probably finally realized what we are and decided to back out.

Christ, not you too. I’m not giving up that easy.

He didn’t.

It went on for a week, and Steven had enough. If you never wanted to see them again, he’d respect that of course, but he wasn’t going to just stop. He was going to try. Steven Grant, if nothing else, rolled with the punches. How did that song go? I get knocked down, but I get up again, you aint ever gonna keep me down.

When you heard knocking at the door, you knew who it was. Who the hell just shows up to a place unannounced anymore? Only Steven Grant. You look in the peephole to check. Yep, you were right. You waited for him to knock again. He did, gently but loud enough you could hear him in the room. It wasn’t insistent, it wasn’t angry. He didn’t want to scare you. You knew he wouldn’t knock unendingly until you answered. He’s not like that.

“Listen, I figure you’re home.” Steven called in. He knew you’d be home, you always were this time of day. And he knew you were on the other side of the door, listening. “I know Marc scared you. Marc scared himself too… He hasn’t hardly been around all week. Jake’s always pretty quiet. Been rather lonely…” Steven trailed off, then regained himself. “You don’t have to answer the door or anything, but if you could call? Or text? Or something? Just so we know it’s over. I understand if you…”

Watching him through the peephole, you see Steven whipped back a tear as he cleared his throat.

“We love you, so, so much, and whatever it is we need to do to make this right… We’ll do it. I understand if you don’t want to be with us anymore. I understand that Marc- That we scared you” Steven tried to take the blame off Marc, knowing he was likely listening. “I promise we understand. You don’t even have to give us a proper goodbye. Just… Let us know, please?”

Steven takes a shaky breath, and turns to leave, to allow you space, but you unlock the bolt and swing the door open, nearly tackling him in the process.

It takes a moment for him to realize what’s happening, but as soon as he registers your face buried in his chest, he carefully hugs you back. When you tighten your hold on him, he takes that as permission to hug you tighter.

“I missed you, Steven” You mutter, then add. “I missed all of you.”

“I’m so sorry for last week, love, so, so sorry, so is Jake, so is Marc- we can’t say enough and if this is it we understand-”

You pull back, still holding him. “No, sweetheart, no… I’m not breaking up with you…”

Hesitantly, Steven looked at you. “I sense a ‘but’ coming”

You nod, a small, sad smile on your face. “But, Marc needs to change. He needs to work on his anger. Because I will not live around that, and I will not allow our children to grow up with that.”

The was a pause as Steven watched you. “Our children?”

You smile a bit, falling a little more in love with him with that look on his face. “In the future… if you all want…” You glance at the floor, shuffling nervously.

He nodded, a tiny smile on his face. “I do… I don’t know about the others but-”

I do

I’ll change, I promise. No more violence, not around her… I’ll get my anger under control… I just don’t know how. I don’t want… I dont want to be like my-

You’re not.

“They do too… Marc promises to work on himself, work on his anger.”

“I’ll help him.” You return to hugging Steven, having missed their touch all week. “We’ll find other outlets.”

Okay

“Marc says he’ll do it.”

Steven smelled the shampoo in your hair as his hands felt your back, he never wanted to let go again, refamiliarizing himself with you.

“Does Marc want to talk?”

Not yet. I need… I need a little time. Until I can trust myself.

“He’s not ready yet, is that alright?”

You nod against his chest. “Can you tell him something for me? Just because… I know he’s thinking it.”

“Of course, love.”

“Make sure he knows, he’s nothing like his mom.”

*************

I hope this was what you were looking for and again IM SO SORRY IT TOOK SO LONGThis is probably gonna flop like all my marc fics do but here you go

taggong the usual hoes

if you'd like to be added or removed from my general tag list but y'all seem to generally like my nonsense

@my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @ahookedheroespureheart @lucianadraven32 @itspdameronthings @welcometostayingawake @in-between-the-cafes

#marc spector #marc spector angst #marc spector hurt comfort #marc spector reader #marc spector x reader smut #marc spector fanfic #marc is protective #protective marc spector #marc spector needs a hug #steven grant #steven grant is a sweetheart #steven grant x reader #steven grant hurt comfort #steven grant angst

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myfandomlikesandstories · 8 months

Text

Need You Now

Marc Spector x GN reader

Genre: fluff, hurt comfort

Summary: Need You Now by Lady Antebellum songfic. You and Marc have been thinking about each other late at night, and you decide to phone him.

Warnings: Marc drinking

Word count: 1437

It was late at night, and you were half sitting half lying on your couch with your phone. You were scrolling through pictures of a guy you were seeing, Marc Spector.

It was an on and off thing, no hard feelings, but you two just... Saw each other. On occasion. You would go on a date, have a wonderful time, and not find any time to meet again for a few weeks.

After a particularly long time, about 5 weeks in which you didn't meet and barely spoke, a date was finally scheduled. Marc showed up looking tired, sad and guilty. He apologized for not being able to meet up, and for not calling.

He said he didn't understand why you wouldn't just ghost him, and why you even agreed to see him now. If he were any other person, things would have been different. You wouldn't just "talk" to someone with no commitment for so long, you had standards.

But there was just something about him. There was something relentless about this Marc guy, you felt as if your life would be totally different if you just left. That was silly, just a weird gut feeling but you didn't dismiss it. No harm no foul, right?

You thought of calling him. Obviously you shouldn't, it was 1 AM, but honestly? You missed him. It was stupid. He wouldn't pick up. He'd think you're weird. Clingy. He'd brush you off and ghost you for good.

Did he think of you as much as you thought of him? Nah, can't be. He would have made a move by now, or at least try to talk to you more. You never even cross his mind, that's why he doesn't call. Shame that for you, it happened all the time.

--------------------

Marc Spector poured yet another shot of whiskey into a glass and swallowed it immediately. He wondered why wouldn't he drink straight from the bottle, no reason bothering with a glass. He wondered many things that night, like why couldn't he take his eyes off the door? He felt the urge to just rip it open and run into the night.

"Shouldn't be drinking anyway," he grumbled as he poured another shot. Steven would nag him for it all day. Marc had agreed to work something out with Steven over his drinking problem. He said he'd only drink if he was feeling absolutely miserable... Which was most of the time. But tonight was truly spectacular in that field.

He couldn't get you off his mind. Did he really wish to disappear in the cold night air, or did he just want to hear a knock? He wished with all his might to see a text from you pop up on his phone. You texted him, once, when he was having a particularly bad day. He never felt relief like that in his life. It was like a ray of warm sunshine burst through the cloud over his head. It made him feel special, honestly. That YOU chose to talk to HIM. He reaaaally wanted you to just sweep in and save him from himself. In a back corner of his mind, he realized he wanted you to love him.

"It's weird to think that about someone," he dismissed himself. No way you thought about him, certainly not like that, certainly not at 1:15 in the morning! "I need to get a grip." He sighed. "And to stop talking to yourself." Marc thought, and rested his head on the table.

--------------------

You sighed anxiously, finger hovering over the call button. You were thinking too much and too little at the same time. Your head was flooded with the impossible possibility of Marc returning your affection, and so you managed to completely forsake the idea to text him first. Never mind. "It's now or never," you told yourself and called.

The ring roused Marc from his drunken half sleep on his kitchen table, and he sprang to his feet, stumbling and falling as he tried to reach his phone on the counter. He would have felt insanely ridiculous if it were anyone else calling, and would berate himself endlessly. Luckily, it was you.

"Hello?"

"Hi! Marc! Sorry, did I wake you?"

"No, no, don't worry, you didn't. Um, how are you?"

"I'm alright, thank you. How are you?"

"I'm fine," he lied. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yeah, I'm okay, sorry, I didn't expect you to actually pick up."

"Well, I'm here. Why'd you call?"

"Uh, well, I was wondering if you're free sometime this week? Maybe tomorrow?"

Marc was a little surprised, both by the whole situation of his damn wish coming true, and by you asking to see him again.

"Yes, yeah, I am. Is 7 PM okay?"

"Yeah! Perfect, thank you. I'm sorry I called this late," you apologized, but the triumph was present in your voice. "See you then!"

"Yeah, goodnight." He said.

"Goodnight."

None of you hung up, and a few moments passed. Just before you ended the call, you heard Marc's voice again.

"Wait!" He pleaded, louder than he meant. He would have never done this sober.

"Yeah?"

"Could you please stay on the line?" He asked timidly. It was really unlike him, but he couldn't let you go.

"Of course." You reassured. He sounded a bit panicked. "Are you okay, though?"

"Uhh," he hesitated. He obviously couldn't tell you he was sad and drunk and thinking about you and praying that you'd call, right? That'd be creepy. Why was he even talking to you? He tried to stop himself before, saying that you don't need him in your life. He's bad for you, he's a burden, you shouldn't be near him. He felt guilty for being with you and felt guilty for leaving. Without you, he felt his heart was so empty it could stop. He'd rather hurt than feel nothing at all, he guessed.

"Marc? You there?"

"I'm sorry."

"Hey, it's alright, everything is okay." You registered something was really wrong. "I'm here. You can tell me. I'm worried about you."

Marc was shocked. Did he hear you right? You were worried about him? He gulped. He didn't want you to worry. You told him once you liked it when people are open about their emotions. Here goes nothing.

"Um, yeah, no, uh, I'm... Not doing so great. I'm sorry. I'm pretty drunk. Hehe, I actually kinda faceplanted while running to pick up the phone," he said and ran a hand over his face. His voice sounded very sad suddenly. "I don't want to be alone."

You heard him take a sharp, shaky breath.

"I need you."

You breathed deeply. "I'm sorry, Marc."

Here it comes, he braces himself for impact.

You decided taking risks was working for you tonight. "I'll be at your place in 15 minutes?"

Marc was stunned. "Really?"

"I just need to throw together a bag, I'll stay the night with you, yeah?"

"Thank you," he said, shocked and grateful.

"Just hang in there." You said and ended the call, going to pack yourself an overnight bag and drive over to his place.

Marc's head was spinning now, and he sat down.

--------------------

15 minutes later, you knocked on his door. Marc went to open it and was greeted by the sight of you in your pajamas, holding a small backpack. You dropped it on the floor inside the apartment and when the door was closed behind you, you engulfed Marc in your arms.

He rested his head on your shoulder, breathing you in and holding you close. You tightened your grip around him and rubbed his back.

"Thank you for coming." He said quietly. "I'm sorry."

You let go of him, and a wave of pain washed through his bones. Instead of walking away, you took his face in your hands.

"You have nothing to apologize for, dear. Thank you for letting me help you."

He looked at you with his now wet, puppy dog brown eyes, grateful and utterly confused by your kindness, and pulled you into a hug again.

You stayed that way for a minute or two, and broke apart only to get into his bed together and cuddle. You pulled his head to your chest, and he snuggled happily into the crook of your neck as he wrapped his heavy arms (and a leg) around your body. You held him close, kissed his forehead and his hairline, and he planted a few soft kisses on your neck and chest. You didn't know what you would do without one another. Tomorrow would be good, you knew so.

--------------------

Just tagging some mutuals:

MASTERLIST

@luke-o-lophus @eyelessfaces @ivystoryweaver @romanarose @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @writingforcurrentobsessions2

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loki-hargreeves · 2 years

Text

Doubt

Pairing: Marc Spector x fem!Reader Warnings/Tags: angst, describing anxiety, mentions of death, mentions of abuse, pregnancy, hurt/comfort Word Count: 2,9k Summary: Marc is scared he’ll be a bad father to the baby you’re expecting. While decorating the nursery, his anxiety gets the best of him. A/N: Soooo I’ve been reading Moon Knight comics and the dad moments have gotten to me. That’s why I had to write this.

YOUR POV

“Marc, could you help me with these?” Your soft voice was muffled by the tower of boxes you were carrying, all wavering in front of your face so that Marc could only see your legs as you walked into the freshly painted soon-to-be nursery. Although the cream coloured paint had dried long ago, the smell was still lingering in the air as a constant reminder of the work you had ahead of you.

Alarmed by the sight, he rushed over to you and took the boxes into his own arms, “You shouldn’t be carrying that much stuff, you know.”

“It’s just curtains and stuff, it doesn’t weigh that much. I’ll be fine, we’ll be fine,” You explained to your worried husband and gestured at your growing belly once your arms were free. Of course, you felt happy that he cared about you, but you wished he wasn’t so worried all the time for his own sake. At any given chance, you would try to comfort him and ease his troubled mind.

Ever since Marc learned you were pregnant, he had been extra careful around you at all times. In a way, it pained you to see how he behaved, every action just proving what you had feared; he was scared. To some extent being scared while expecting your firstborn was natural, but you knew Marc well, better than anyone really. He had his reasons.

Marc heard what you said, but he didn’t reply as his brown eyes scanned the room for a place to put the boxes. As he finally put them down, he turned around to face you. You had sat down on the rocking chair that was temporarily in the middle of the room, surrounded by boxes and tools. The instructions were scattered on the floor as he had insisted on not needing them. Marc had spent all morning putting the rocking chair together along with the crib, making sure not a single screw was loose because he didn’t want it to fall apart with you and your child sitting on it.

Seeing you so clearly pregnant, only weeks away from your due date was baffling to say the least. As much as Marc adored you and everything about you, something in his mind twisted and tugged at him, telling him that this wasn’t right. If he wouldn’t fuck up, he was sure Khonshu would find a way. Looking at you, Marc could see a happy smile on your face and he realized he was terrified that he would chase it away if he stayed in your lives.

“I’ll uh, I’m gonna go find some more screws,” Marc nodded to himself as he spoke, almost believing that it was his only intention as he actually just needed a moment for himself. In the past few weeks especially, his anxiety had gotten worse, growing rapidly at the worst possible moments. Marc wanted to get as far away from you as it happened so you wouldn’t have to see how distressed he truly was.

I can’t do this, the thought repeated in Marc’s head over and over again as he made his way to the garage. Domestic life? A happy life? Marc questioned every decision he had made since he had met you, wondering how fucking stupid he had been when he had believed this could last, that this was a life he could actually live. Sure, there were wonderful moments, but his past overshadowed everything, spilling on the good times like toxic waste and distorting them remarkably.

Marc imagined you rocking your baby. A beautiful picture painted in his head, but like ink on paper, Khonshu appeared in the background, tainting something so ordinary. Marc wasn’t ordinary. The man was terrified of how his deal with Khonshu about being the god’s avatar would come back to haunt you and soon your child. How his own mother, to this day, affected his life. Did Marc want that to reach your child? No way.

God he longed for a normal, happy life with you more than anything, but Marc was convinced it wasn’t possible. Just thinking about it all was overwhelming, making him sick to his gut as a familiar sting intensified in his eyes, a warning of tears he tried so hard to stop from spilling.

“Fuck!” Marc cursed under his breath, resisting the urge to tear down the metal shelves in the garage as he didn’t wish to alarm you. The last thing you needed, in Marc’s humble opinion, was to have to deal with him freaking out...again.

With his scarred and rough fingers entangled in his dark locks, Marc held his breath and looked around him as if the world was spinning. Everything felt like too much, as if the entire world was trying to rip his brain apart, piece by piece on a molecular level. Marc anticipated either Khonshu appearing or that he’d lose control again and hand it over to Steven - someone he had worked extremely hard on sheltering from the rest of the world. Not even you knew and Marc had planned on keeping it that away. It was already beyond him how you had stayed when Marc had told you about Khonshu.

How was Marc supposed to protect you and your baby when he hadn’t even been able to protect his own little brother?

Marc hated it whenever he remembered that day, the day the promise of a normal life was ruined for him. The seed of chaos and pain had been planted and it had relentless roots that dug deep into Marc’s mind, spreading into each little corner and crevice. His brother had died because Marc hadn’t listened to his mother. His own child wouldn’t see their uncle and Marc blamed himself for that. This baby wouldn’t have a relationship with their grandmother because Marc would rather cut his own limbs off than let her into their life.

When someone knocked on the garage door, Marc’s heart skipped a beat. He had sat down on the cold floor at some point, opposite of the closed door. Something about the situation sent his mind far back into the past. He felt caught and that was bad. It was really bad.

“Marc? Are you in there?” Your voice was like a miracle, bringing his mind back to the here and now, as if an anchor on stormy seas. You weren’t going to hurt him, no. You were the most loving and sweet person he knew of, you were safe.

“Yeah,” Marc took a deep breath, not bothering to get up from the floor. What was the point when you could see past everything anyway? Marc wondered how you had enough patience to deal with him. Why had you chosen him? Why did he let you? Was it because he loved you too much or too little? Loved you too little to push you away or too much so that he was unable to let you go?

When Marc had told you he went looking for screws, you knew something wasn’t quite right. There was a box of them on the nursery floor and besides, you had seen the anxious look on his face. Sitting in the nursery, knowing that Marc wasn’t doing well just felt wrong. Your love for him was strong and the hormones lately seemed to have enhanced that. Knowing Marc was in pain made your heart hurt. There was no way you could brush it off like nothing.

As you opened the door to the garage, your eyes immediately went to Marc who was sitting on the floor, too ashamed to lift his gaze to meet yours. His beautiful, coffee coloured eyes were glossy with sadness and his bottom lip pushed forward just slightly like it always did when he was upset and he tried to hide it. There were small signs you had learned to recognize after spending so many years by his side.

Silently, you made your way to him, bending down a bit slowly since you had a bump throwing you off balance and making your back hurt. As you sat down, you stretched out your legs and took a deep breath, wondering if it was better to sit in silence with Marc or try to find the right words that would soothe his mind and drive away whatever mean voice was occupying it at that moment.

Carefully, you captured his hands in yours, relieved to see Marc made no effort to push you away. This knuckles were covered in faded scars that you had kissed so many times before. Something about it seemed to calm him down, which was why you placed soft kisses on them once again, heart aching as you sensed the faint tremble within him.

“What’s wrong, my love?”

Marc had never been much of a speaker. He had a tendency to keep everything to himself, which wasn’t feasible in the long run. There was only so much a person could bottle up. It would’ve been a lie if you had said it surprised you when he simply shook his head, trying to keep the pain all to himself. This wasn’t a case of him not trusting you, he simply wasn’t sure how to let people in when they wanted to help.

“What if I won’t be a good father?” Marc forced the words out of his mouth after a while, his jaw tense and tongue feeling heavy as he spoke. The words tasted like poison and he wanted it to go away, just like his worries and fears.

You were shocked to hear that, to say the least. When you looked into his eyes, you found no traces of deception. He was honest as one could be.

“Marc,” You cooed, furrowing your brows as you tried to find the right words, “Why would you think that?”

The way he looked at you, his expression revealing how his heart was breaking by the second felt like someone twisted a knife in yours. Tears were threatening to spill from his eyes, making Marc look lost and vulnerable which was quite the opposite of his usual demeanour. All you wanted was to hold him and put the pieces back together again.

“You know me,” Marc took a deep breath, avoiding eye contact as he leaned against the wall, “my past. I’ve done things, Y/N, things I can’t undo.”

Despite all the secrets he kept from you, he had opened up about his mercenary life. The two of you were far from an ordinary couple, that was for sure. Although recently, things had calmed down slightly as you had a baby to prepare for. Both of you had complicated pasts, but Marc felt like he was chained to his. Each time he tried to get away from them, more chains would appear, pulling him deeper into the abyss of his mind.

“I know,” Your fingers caressed his arm in a comforting manner, “it’s okay. Your past doesn’t determine your future. You do. The fact that you’re worried about whether or not you’ll be a good father already speaks volumes. A bad father wouldn’t care.”

Marc wanted to believe that, he really did. It disgusted him to realize that once his mother had been good too. What if he changed?

“I just don’t want to turn into her,” Marc admitted, feeling ashamed as he let you know what was troubling him so much. “You don’t deserve that.”

You knew exactly who Marc was talking about. His relationship with his mother was pretty much non-existent at this point and you believed it was for the best. From what he had told you about her, she was absolutely horrible.

“You’re not her, you’ll never be her. I know that in my heart,” That was true. It pained you to even imagine Marc comparing himself to someone so cruel. Yeah, he had his flaws but so did everyone else. He could be tough, but when it came to the people he loved the most, Marc was devoted to show them his best. You loved him, because he was the opposite of that woman.

There had been moments when you were quite upset too. Marc always tried to calm you instead of letting you dive further into sadness. You were convinced he’d throw himself into open flames instead of letting you even consider it. He wasn’t the type of person to hurt anyone for fun. You felt perfectly safe around him.

“You don’t know that,” Marc was stubborn, clinging onto the negatives like glue.

“And you don’t know that either. Who knows what the future holds. I sincerely don’t see you turning into her. Everything else is uncertain, but when I think about the future, I just see you,” There was a sense of certainty in your words that reached Marc. It didn’t feel like something you said just to cheer him up, no. It sounded like you truly believed every word you spoke.

“How are you so perfect?” Marc couldn’t believe how lucky he was to have met you. Truth be told, he felt undeserving of your love and devotion. Despite it all, you seemed so optimistic. Would you still be that way if he told you everything? Marc was afraid to let his mind wander that far. The thought of disappointing you to a point of no return was pure nightmare fuel to him.

“I’m not perfect,” You were quick to correct him, “but I’m doing my best, just like you. I know we’ll be fine as long as we try out best.”

Marc let your words sink in for a moment, relaxing a little bit as your fingers drew patterns on his arm. Somehow, you could make him feel lighter even when it felt like someone had tied cement blocks to his feet and pushed him off a bridge, sinking deeper and deeper into despair. Marc felt like his own worst enemy.

As he wasn’t saying anything, you decided to add onto that: “To be honest, I’m a little scared too. I’ve read all the parenting books and listened to my friends and family, but I know nothing will really prepare me for the reality of being a parent. What brings me comfort is knowing that we can figure everything out together.”

All of a sudden, you felt a tiny leg kicking you vigorously, as if the little one was trying to join in on the conversation.

“I think someone has something to say,” A smile spread on your face. You grabbed Marc’s hand and guided it to your bump, right above the spot your baby was kicking. It didn’t take long for it to happen again and seeing the joy light up in Marc’s brown eyes made you feel relieved.

He leaned against you and pressed his hand gently against your bump, overwhelmed by sudden joy and love. The little one had good timing, that was for sure. Feeling the little kicks against the palm of his hand was something Marc was convinced he would never get used to. Every time, it felt just as bizarre and lovely. It reminded him of what was real, a future that he still hadn’t had a chance to fuck up.

“Why are you kicking your mother like that, huh?” Marc played into it, trying to blink his tears away as he finally began to calm down. He wished he could say it would be the last time his anxiety would get the best of him, but as a realist, he knew it wasn’t true. For now, Marc tried to focus on this moment and that only.

Your baby kicked you again, harder this time which had you laughing. Even Marc cracked a smile, finding the sound of your laughter absolutely delightful. Marc wanted to make you smile and laugh for the rest of your lives, he needed to. It wasn’t that much of an unrealistic goal, yeah?

“Well I don’t think they get that from you,” Marc contemplated, taking into consideration your gentle nature. You had the patience of a saint, which he assumed was why you were still by his side.

“Hmm, it’s definitely your baby, Marc,” You kissed his cheek after you said that, your lips soft against his stubble.

Marc tilted his head and captured your lips into a kiss, much softer than usual. His hand held onto the back of your head as he deepened it, hoping from the bottom of his heart that the action could speak louder than the words he didn’t know how to express. The passion and intensity of the kiss made your heart flutter with desire and you knew exactly what he wanted to say, you could taste it in the way he almost desperately gave himself to you, heart and soul. Marc wasn’t a tender lover most of the time, which you didn’t mind, but right now he was showing a part of himself that was for your eyes only.

As you parted from the sweet kiss, Marc leaned his forehead against yours, his eyelashes tickling against your skin. For a moment, you stayed like that, close to each other in comfortable silence.

“I love you,” Marc whispered, needing to tell you that.

“I love you too,” You returned the meaningful words, heart racing in your chest as you soaked in the bliss. Seeing that the anxiety and worry had abandoned Marc’s face was a wonderful sight. For now, all seemed well.

You took a deep breath, and leaned against Marc’s shoulder, wanting to embrace this moment, knowing that it was one you’d cherish forever.

No matter how often his worries tried to convince him it would be for the best to leave you alone, they could never tower over the love he had for you or the way your love wiped his mind clean from negative thoughts. The power you held over Marc Spector was unreal and only yours. Marc wouldn’t have it any other way. He would spend the rest of his life protecting you and your child from the world. Marc was sure of that now.

A/N: I hope you liked it! :)

In my head this is happening right before Marc’s biological mom dies/before the series begin so he’ll leave anyway and Steven Grant goes on about his day, working at the gift shop. Just for some extra flavour and spice, he thinks Khonshu wants his kid to be his next avatar so he tries to make sure that’ll never happen. This is just temporary comfort. That’s just me though, because I love angst.

#Marc Spector #Marc Spector x you #Marc Spector x Reader #Marc Spector x Y/N #Marc Spector/Reader #marc spector x fem!reader #moon knight x fem!reader #moon knight fanfiction #marc spector fanfiction #mcu fanfiction #marc spector angst #marc spector hurt/comfort

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