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bensolosbluesaber · 2 years

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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

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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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trickster-jpeg · 4 months

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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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loki-hargreeves · 1 year

Text

Okay so I was building the mk apartment in the sims and I had to build that bathroom. Then I decided to renovate it to how I picture it in fics. Because my mind refuses to accept Steven doesn't actually have a bathtub

I didn't want to change absolutely everything... but I kinda did

I think they deserve a bathtub and Steven deserves to be able to read in the bathtub.

And a sink in the bathroom would be nice

this bathroom does not exist in my fanfic imagination but it's a vibe

#can we pls talk about Steven's bathroom tho?#the slippers 😭#I wonder if the floor is cold #sure it's a set #but like a girl can THINK #I need a bathtub in that apartment for the hurt/comfort and the smut #moon knight #Steven Grant #Marc Spector #Jake Lockley #sims 4 #sims

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winniethewife · 6 months

Text

It's undeniably real (Layla El-Faouly x The Moonknight system x Reader)

Chapter 9: With no secrets, no obsession

Warning: Smut under the cut! Fembodied, threesome, PinV, fingering, against a wall, unprotected sex, on a car sex, public sex, glove kink, Reader called a good girl , tiny bit of angst.

Minors DNI

Last Chapter ~ Next Chapter

Words:1462

Their bodies, against mine, the warmth of their love. It’s like a Band-Aid on my bleeding heart. I can’t keep up, I can’t keep doing this. It’s eating at the corners of my mind. Sounds are so much louder, the lights so much brighter, everything is intense. Constantly looking over my shoulder, waiting for something that will never come.

I open my eyes wide as I feel Marc’s rough hands grabbing me and pulling me down onto him as I lay between him and Layla. Her hands pulling my chin while kissing me with her body pushing into mine. She swallows my moans as Marc drives himself into me from behind. Layla’s lips on mine as she holds me close. All this because the doctors cleared me for strenuous activity again. I was pretty sure he had carrying in the groceries, or going to the gym in mind when he mentioned it to me. But as soon as I mentioned it to Marc and Layla over dinner, I swear neither of them could keep their hands off of me. Now caught between them, our clothes tossed to the sides, I think my underwear is hanging off the bedside lamp, it’s a moment of enduring love and passion as they take care of me. I feel Marc’s hot breath on my neck as he thrusts into me.

“Baby, Fuck…You feel so good around me…” Marc growls softly in my ear, he groans as he trusts up into me again and again. I whimpered softly as I felt Layla’s hand slip between my legs and her fingers start circling my clit. She pulls away from the kiss and looks into my eyes.

“That’s it, Let us take care of you…” She softly tells me as she runs her thumb over my swollen lip, before sliding the tip of it in my mouth. I obediently suck on it gently. She smiles at me “Good girl…that’s right.” She coo’s at me as she rubs circles around my clit. For a split second I realize that my mind is clear, I’m not living this moment in a haze when Marc’s lips hit my neck, I feel his teeth against my skin. I gasp at the feeling as my climax rushes my body.

“Oh Love…please…” Steven moans as I palm his bulge, pressing Him against the wall in the living room.

“Please what Steven?” I ask as I move my hand along his clothed length. He whimpers softly.

“Please…Fuck me, Oh gods I need you to fuck me.” Steven pleads with me, his dark puppy dog eyes looking into mine, a soft pout of his face as he bucks his hips into my hand.

“Awe you poor little puppy, so needy for me” I growl in his ear as I press him into the wall sliding my hand into his sweat pants. All I can think about is how badly I want to stay in my mind, I want to keep myself in the present with clarity, enjoy every moment they give me. If I can just…forget about the system, my training, everything that plagues my mind. I take him in my hand, his hard cock feels good as I move my hand along his shaft. Pressing my lips to his as He whines, licking into his mouth as he fucks himself with my hand. His actions so desperate. He needs it as bad as I do. I pull down my Pajama pants and underwear kicking them to the side. Steven takes the opportunity to spin me against the wall, lifting me, pressing me against the wall, holding my ass as he kisses my neck. I let of a soft groan as I wrap my legs around his waist.

“This A’right then Darling? I just need you…S’bad. Can’t wait.” He hurriedly says as he pulls his sweat pants down, and slides the tip of his dick in between my wet folds. His need outweighing his patience as he slides into me, babbling softly into my neck. “Ah, Love you feel s’good, S’tight. Mph, Goddess, you’re so wet f’me, so nice. Ngh…Oh lovie, that’s right innit? Just like that.” His soft voice in my ear, his lips on my neck, my eyes flutter closed as his cock hits at just the right spot inside me, thrusting with surprising accuracy as he continues to mumble incoherently. My own voice seems to have disappeared as all I can manage is a small moan, finding myself breathless as the normally timid Steven takes everything I have to give him.

“Mmm…Steven…you’re…Oh…” I couldn’t even form a sentence as Steven presses on.

“Shhh…Lemme take care of you love…let me…Oh gods, you’re perfect…” Steven mumbles as he grips my ass and thighs, his rhythm is off as he gets closer to his high, every thrust hitting deeper and harder. His whimpers and whines turn to grunts as I feel myself filled with his spend. Both of us softly panting as he comes down from his high.

“Oh…Darlin’ that was…you’re so good t’me…” Steven leaves a trail of kisses on my face as he carries me to the couch for a cuddle.

The dance Hall is mostly empty, it was a Tuesday night, but Jake was desperate to take me out since I was feeling better. Or at least I said I was. He had gone to get us drinks as I held down the fort at the table. I look around the room, searching, what for? I’m not sure, but I’m always searching. My eyes look quickly as someone approaches me, I feel my body tense, and then I realize it’s just Jake. He looks at me brows furrowed as he looked at my face.

“Qué pasa cariño?” Jake hands me my virgin cocktail, wrapping and arm around me, pulling me in to rest on his side. “Too soon for all this?”

“No…well maybe. It’s…a bit much. I don’t know.” I take a sip of my drink before resting my head on him.

“We can go, I don’t mind, whatever you want to do Hermosa…I just want to spend time with you.” Jake says softly as he gently squeezes me. He stands next to me as I think it over. I finish the drink and Grab my Jacket. He leads me out of the club and back to his car. He helps me into the passenger seat, pulling the seatbelt over me and clicking it into place before looking at me, his eyes still full of concern as he rubs his thumb across my face. Pulling out of the car and walking around to the driver’s side, I almost know what he’s thinking, he hasn’t acted the same since the day of the incident. He still sees me lying unconscious and bleeding out in his arms as he rushed me to the hospital, as he felt so overwhelmed that he couldn’t continue to front.

After driving for a while we end up pulling into an empty parking lot in the middle of nowhere. Jake turns off the car, I at him confused. He unbuckles and steps out of the car. I follow suit join him as he sits on the hood of the car. He sighs deeply before talking.

“I…I’m not very good with words. But. I can’t help but feel…like I failed you, Mi Vida…You are everything to me. I promised…I promised myself I’d never let you get hurt and… Te fallé.” Jake looks over at me and I watch as a single tear falls down his face “Puedes perdonarme querida?” I scoot closer and hold his face in my hands

“No hay nada que perdonar, mi amor” I say softly, I pull him in, leaving a soft kiss on his lips, I was about to pull away when he pulls me closer, one hand around my waist the other on the back of my neck as he kisses me, his lips capture mine as he moves to hold me in his arms, my chest pressed against his. Jake was in no rush to end this contact as he holds me close, but it wasn’t enough, it was like he wanted us to form into one person, he couldn’t hold me close enough. I lose track of our movements, I just feel the warm metal of the car on my back and his hand pulling at my tights. His finger pull my panties aside as he slides his fingers along my aching heat, his thick gloved fingers push in, his thumb rubbing my clit as his fingers scissor inside me, His mouth still on mine, silencing me as he is determined to right his wrongs. However possible, and preferably by making me cum on the hood of his car…Multiple times that night.

Translations:

Qué pasa cariño?: what's wrong darling

Te fallé.: I failed you

Puedes perdonarme querida: Can you forgive me dear?

No hay nada que perdonar mi amor: There is nothing to forgive my love

Masterlist

Taglist: @redeyerhaenyra @summonthesoups

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friendlyneighbourhood-parker · 2 years

Text

nagging and napping

pairing: Steven grant x reader, Marc spector x reader, Jake lockley x reader

Summary: after a good-bye party for Layla you get hurt and the moonboys have to manage taking care of you on their own ways while making sure you remember that this wasn't your fault

Word count: 12 k

Warnings: child abuse, wendy's mentioned, panic attacks, wound patching as a way of showing affection, implied smut, the wounds really don't make sense i'm sorry, intrussive thoughts, negative self talk, mentions of blood and wounds angst with a happy ending, hurt/comfort

A/N: This wasn't supposed to be so long nor take as much time to write as it did! this started as a bucky fic back when Falcon and the winter soildier was airing but never really liked it. now I love it and loved writting it so I hope you guys like it too! also I think it looks way nicer on ao3 but if you want to read it here I won't be mad about it

special thanks to my amaizing betta reader @devilish-mirage her notes and sweet words are what motivated me to continue!

also to @bassist-vortex whom I now own a lollypop bcs it's longer than 6k and didn't mind when I texted him at 2 am about being so fucking done drafting this.

Come on, breathe

In, out. In, out. One, two, three

“Fucking hell!!!” You winced avoiding to look his way, your hands quickly trailing up to cover your mouth, muffling the string of curses.

Your mind frantically ran through every and any single possible scenario trying to detach itself from the notorious pain from the side of your body, the sting running across your back when the soaking cotton made contact with the wounded skin.

Breathe, just breathe

Teeth sunk into your hand trying your best to drown the scream creeping from your throat, your other hand trembling while holding up the t-shirt you wore to make his job easier.

God

You couldn’t even look at him not when the probability of seeing him frowning at you was huge. One of his hands held you keeping you as still as he could while the other cleaned away the scrapes on your torso.

“Told you to be careful”

It was the first thing he said after getting home, Marc placed you on top of the kitchen table and ran to get the aid kid from the wardrobe in the back, cursing at Steven for moving it from the top of the fridge.

In and out, breathe

He tried his best not to prolong the pain, dabbing carefully and looking up to check your reaction, or at least he tried to but your eyes never shifted from the window and even if they did they never fell into him.

His tone was harsh fuelled by his immense worry, he shook his head pouring alcohol into a new cotton. He knew his way around this but the way your chest moved and breath picked up made him nervous, the hand that was once holding you trailed along the outside of your thigh trying to ease you, and yet you thought he was furious.

“¿Te lo dije, o no?”

“Fuck off” You hated getting scolded like a child, the guilt bubbling in your chest. You side-eyed him before shutting your eyes and slamming your hand on the table.

¡Respira maldita sea!

You tried your best to regulate yourself before looking back at him. His eyes never left the place where the wound was, sitting on a chair to be head level to it and with the trash bin on his side to discard everything he used.

You were scared and yet his fear was greater, he was about to fucking scream.

He’s done this thousands of times before, not as many as Marc but his sudden ‘shutdown’ left him with no choice but to attend your wounds.

For fucks sake Marc, couldn’t you choose a better time to freak out?

To be honest he didn’t blame him, it was only his nervousness taking the best of him. In the past he had attended his own wounds before making that stupid deal with the moon god that got him the suit, but it was you they were talking about, none of them wanted to see you in pain and the mere thought of not being able to help you was enough for Jake being pushed forward.

He tried his best to be quick, to not linger in his mind and finish up so you could rest, but the voice of the worried British man that lived in him didn’t make concentrating any easier.

“Steven, si no te callas juro que-“ He whispered to himself and sighed looking back at you “Mi amor, I need you to stay still, ‘kay?”

You nodded lifting the t-shirt even higher, finally deciding to grip it with your teeth, it wouldn’t get in his way and would work wonders muffling you. The pain was worst, He expected you to flinch when he started stitching the cut on your shoulder but for some reason your knuckles turning white when you gripped the edge of the table seemed to have a greater effect on him as his hand began to shudder. He took a deep breath and glanced at your pained expression before continuing.

Where was Layla in a moment like this?

Took them home, remember?

The reason why he had to clean you up in the first place, the guy who you saw across the pub bothering a girl and her friend. The thing is you knew the guy, he ruined the night out you had with a couple of friends some weeks ago. The boys weren’t at home when it happened and Layla had to travel thanks to her line of work to recover some stolen goods, so you decided that going for drinks with your best friend was a good idea.

And it was, it really was until that twat started to roam around you just like he was doing with the girls. You were out as a makeshift ‘goodbye party’ for Layla before she had to leave to secure a buyer for the recently collected stolen goods. Marc went for more drinks while she excused herself to the restroom, you? You walked across the venue to strike him as soon as his hand tried to reach for the girl’s bum.

There is a downside about being constantly surrounded by people who commune with the gods, you sometimes forget you aren’t more than a mere human, you don’t have powers nor a fancy suit and every blow you get can be mortal.

And so when his fist collided against your side taking almost all your breath out of you, it was your doom and yet the second blow seemed even worse, some people ran to help you, others held him but your mind was only on the young lass who shivered on her friend’s arms.

On the bright side Marc and Layla got there before he tried anything else and yet it seemed to be a tad late, you were dizzy and needed to go home. It wasn’t really that big of a deal and yet the pain was present, mostly from your ego being hurt, some from the actual punch.

Marc made sure he was kicked out and you companied Layla to bus stop after she offered to take the girls home, you craved the air on your face and the feeling of it filling your lungs once more not expecting to be followed on your way back to the car. You could see Marc waiting for you, leaning against the passenger’s side, you held your hand up ready to call for him when you felt it. It didn’t come to your mind that he would take it further than a punch, but the sharp pain on your shoulder and your blouse being tinted in crimson made you let out a loud scream, one of pure pain and fucking regret. Just in time for Marc to watch it.

“Just a few stitches left baby” He tried to reassure you but it only made your need to go at him grow “Come on, breathe”

It’s not like you weren’t reminding yourself of that, to just focus on your breathing and forget about what was going on, to detach yourself from the pain but it wasn’t that easy.

“¡Mierda Lockley!” You tilted your head to the side heavily breathing.

“that’s right” once you snapped back to reality he was throwing away the last bit on cotton and placing a bandage to secure the stitches and rubbing your back carefully “We’re done”

He placed a kiss near where the bandages were, the pearls of sweat glistened on both of your bodies and a tired laugh came from within your lips, still high on the adrenaline you locked eyes.

“Thanks baby”

“Just please… don’t try that shit again” You felt his touch, his hands brushing your hair away, the sweet gesture making you close your eyes nodding to his request.

But he knew better.

He knew just like every other occasion you wouldn’t listen, not to Marc, not to Steven and most certainly not to him. He would have to use both his hands to count how many times he had to drag your ass out of situations like this, times when he got in time before something bad happened and the line of curses directed at the other person slowly died down on the way back home.

“You should’ve let me”

Your arms were crossed in front of your chest as you stared at the road, Marc was the one fronting that particular night, driving both of you to the flat.

“I don’t want anything happening to you” he sighed, his eyes never leaving the road “I wouldn’t be able to take it”

Not all of the occasions where the same but had few things in common, you wanted to help and they had to talk some sense into you before the reckless part of your brain decided to take action. This time was different tho, they didn’t have the opportunity to stay on the talking stage of the little routine, resulting on the little pep talk you were immersed in.

He reached for you carefully trying to lift you but the touch was met with your hand pulling his away before resting your back on the table. He was confused but didn’t complain.

“Leave me here” your voice was barely audible as you dozed off “Wait for Layla in bed”

Layla, one of your best friends and the one who used to have your place in Marc’s heart. At first they tried but their relationship was complicated, too many lies and too many betrayals can doom any marriage, they knew that, they knew how much damage the lack of communication had caused and yet they couldn’t part from one another. Too much history and feelings to even try and explain, but she had to move on to find peace and so she left for a while with the promise of being for him whenever he needed her, the silence and loneliness being something he grew accustomed to and yet it left him aching for the love she gave him.

Then you appeared in the picture, Jake was fond of you since the moment his eyes laid on you, going out of his way to rearrange for you and Steven to meet, let’s just say both of them fancied the tiny moments they had with you, Steven taking you out in the mornings for a cup of tea to his favourite spot and Jake preferring to drive you around the city at night even if you didn’t know it was him. Then you found out about Marc in the worst way possible, at a pub drunk as he could get.

He knew it could trigger him to switch with more ease but there was also the possibility of his mind going quiet for a second, to forget that the woman he loved wasn’t on his side for just a moment, to think that he would find her when coming back home. That’s when he felt your touch on his back and a kiss on his cheek followed by the little pet name.

“Hi amor”

Fuck he was confused as to why in the middle of him grieving and yearning for Layla there was another person who touched him the same way he expected her to do so. Then he opened his mouth letting his confused tone swoon you.

Wasn’t this Steven? Wasn’t this the man you’ve been seeing for the past month and a half? You were pretty sure he was and yet the strong American accent said otherwise. Until there wasn’t one, his gaze softening and his lips twitching in a broken smile as he tried to explain what was going on with the same accent you’ve grew to love.

You worked things out but not before scolding Jake for letting you believe they didn’t understand those little confessions of love you offered in your mother tongue. That’s how you started to date the three of them, completely mesmerized by every part of your moon boys. Then Layla came back, but not as the lover she used to be but as a friend, as the shoulder Marc could lay on whenever he needed, a place he could feel safe and someone who slowly became just as much as a necessity for you as it did for him.

“Mi amor, she’ll kill me if she finds you here alone” he laughed when you pushed his face softly “y no quiero dejarte”

“Jake, ya… porfa” He saw the way your chest movements slowed down finally falling asleep. He went towards the bed grabbing a pillow and blanket, placing it carefully under your head and covering your body to keep you warm.

You’ll probably be sore in the morning but right now the best he could do was leave you to rest.

He sat back where he once was, right next to you and his hand instinctively reaching for yours. The flat would’ve been in complete silence if it weren’t for your soft snores and the humming form Jake, singing under his breath a song he heard not so long ago, the one you played that rare morning while making breakfast. The aroma of coffee and tea dragging him out of bed only to find you wearing his t-shirt and underwear, moving your hips to the melody and mouthing the words.

“How are they?” Layla creeped through the front door slowly trying to not wake you up.

“Tired…” he rubbed his eyes trying to remain awake.

“It seems they’re not the only one” She kissed the top of his head and tapped his shoulder “You should go to sleep, I’ll keep an eye on them”

“Nah, nah. I stay, you can take the bed”

She shook her head as amused as irritated, she always knew how stubborn her boys could be, always wanting to have the last word and yet they hadn’t learn. There’s no use on fighting with her, she would be the one in the right but it amazed her how they always tried. She pushed his curls backwards leaning to be on eye level.

“Jake Lockley, either you go to sleep or I’ll drag you to bed”

He chuckled rolling his eyes grabbing her by the shoulders.

“Yes ma’am”

The cold of the night slowly became a chill morning as the hours passed, the drapes didn’t do much to cover the light that came through the window hitting your face, those moments after waking up were precious, where everything seemed fine thanks to having no recollection of what happened the night prior or even who you were, until you tried to move putting all your weight into the wounded arm and the sharp pain finished the job of waking you up completely. You kicked the blanket out of the way and saw the bruising and scrapes creeping from under your clothes.

“Mierda” you slipped right back where you once laid with a thud, hearing the creek of the chair on your side.

Layla rubbed her eyes yawning and her hand moved some curls out of her face, she was still wearing the same clothes she had on last night, her leather jacket hung from the chair she was sitting on and the traces of makeup in her face told you everything you needed to know. She didn’t get much sleep last night either.

“Good morning trouble maker” her tone was soft as her hand reached to mess with your hair before walking to the cupboard where you store the glasses “The boys are sleeping… it was hard to convince Jake to stay in bed all night”

Your forearm laid on your face covering your eyes, now that the rush of adrenaline and anger from last night wore off it became easier to think, to realize how fucking reckless you’ve been and how punching a guy twice your size wasn’t the brightest idea you could think of, but it was hard to make up good ideas with an intoxicated mind and the fear on a young girl’s face.

And then stopping your mind was almost impossible as it recalled every single detail of the night, how Layla rushed to talk with the girls while Marc took the guy form the collar of his shirt dragging him outside followed by a blurry ride home with him talking to you and telling you that everything was okay. You knew those words weren’t meant for you but for him, telling himself over and over again that you were okay, because you had to be okay, he reminded himself that it was just a cut in your arm, that it wasn’t even that deep and even if it was the first time you’ve ever been hurt like this you would still live.

“I wouldn’t be able to take it”

He probably blamed himself for not reacting sooner and Steven was probably trying to ease him. Trying his damn best to stop the tears that built up in his eyes, gripping the steering wheel with such force that you knew his hands would probably hurt the next morning; Steven would’ve taken control then and there if he wasn’t just as scared as Marc was.

Puta madre

“I’m sorry” you sighed, voice breaking “I’ll never do it again”

The coldness of the glass against your arm made you peek from behind it to find her handing you some painkillers along with water. “I know” she simply said

“No use on getting emotional, ‘kay?” the closest thing to a reassuring smile formed on her face, it was the best one she could give you right now at least, to convince you it wasn’t that big of a deal and yet you could sense the undertone worry.

“You want me to help you before heading out?” she pointed at you and gestured towards the bed where your partner’s slept.

She saw you shaking your head before slowly getting up, she tried to help you but you brushed her hand away – you needed this, to know that you were still able to take care of yourself even after that mayor screw up – before embracing her in a much needed hug, she held you close while making sure not to squeeze to hard. She remembers the first time she got hurt like this and knew how painful it really was.

“Do you have to leave so soon? Marc’s more bitchy than usual after you’re gone” you closed your eyes to the feeling of her hair brushing your face, the scent of honey flooding your senses. She rested her chin on your unwrapped shoulder.

“I know” she breathed out, there was a slight undertone of worry on her voice, one so miniscule that you didn’t really catch it “But I know you can manage him”

You smiled.

She left you all alone, the light creeping in and the cold wood under your feet sending shivers down your spine, the painkillers were starting to take affect as you felt drowsier, you crawled into bed, careful not to wake up the man sleeping besides you or to accidentally hurt the damaged shoulder. The feeling of his arm instinctively reaching out for you was soothing you to finally go back to sleep.

~☽☾~

You expected after opening your eyes to be greeted by an empty bed, it wasn’t uncommon for you to be left behind like that and you really didn’t mind it. Both Marc and Steven thrived in the mornings, the rush of waking up early and get things done just before heading out, to be totally honest it amassed you how even after staying passed midnight Steven still managed to get up before the sun even rose while Jake was the total opposite, who’s only reason to leave your side and the warmth of the oh so comfortable bed – Steven had such a nice bed for someone who tried for so long not to fall asleep – was to be able to surprise you with a breakfast with some ‘flavour in it’.

His words, not yours. Poor Steven couldn’t seem to see the end of it when he cooked for the two of you, Jake pestering him about adding something that once lived and now tasted better with some hot sauce on top.

The morning birds and your night owl.

But the sight the morning granted you was worthy of heaven. Steven holding you close to him completely fixated by the shapes he traced on your thigh still covered by the blanket, he looked up after you inevitably left out the breath you didn’t know were holding in, you saw the small wrinkles on the corner of his eyes once he smiled at you.

“Morning love” it wasn’t long until you realized that his every move where slow and careful, almost calculated as if he was scare to shift a wrong way and cause you immense pain. He kissed your temple “Didn’t want to wake you up”

His accent was thicker in the mornings, a mixed of his tiredness and the dehydration from the night prior, you had the habit of taking a glass of water with you to bed, having it by your side in case either of you was thirsty but from all your boys, the only who refused to drink from the water you provided was Steven.

“Happy you didn’t” you turned to face him ignoring the immediate discomfort, you replicated his smile only yours was tinted whit malice “I would’ve kicked you out of bed”

He couldn’t help but laugh

“You’re… unbelievable” you felt him turning away, trying to get up but your arms moved quicker than your mind could proses it, wrapping them around his waist to prevent him to moved.

The pain from your torso came back, a quick reminder to keep you in place.

Slowly

“Stay” you tried to pull him closer but the pain was making it harder than it normally was “Please?”

He turned to look at you, the pained expression on your face made his gut stir, to say he was worried was an understatement, Steven was mortified by your state. It was written all over his face and in the way his fingers were almost shaking in the moment he placed a revel strand of hair behind your ear.

“I’ll make us some tea” he leaned in to kiss your forehead and his hand cupped the side of your face “It’ll make you feel better”

“I don’t want to feel better… I only want to feel you” your voice was low and raspy, you moved closer burring yourself in the crook of his neck, your good arm held the weight and while the other gently wrapped over his shoulders keeping him in place, sitting on the edge of the bed.

“How about this…” he said after a beat of silence, his hand rubbed softly the arm around him and the smell of citrus with a hint of cinnamon flooded your senses, his hair was messier than usual and you couldn’t see his face but from the way his breaths became more irregular you knew his eyes were glued to your shoulder and his mind to your torso “I’ll bring us some tea and we stay in bed, yeah? I was thinking maybe some movies”

Be careful

You nodded against his neck, your nose rubbing against his skin sending shivers down his spine, he gave a light pat to your arm before kissing it and walking away from your side, you almost could feel yourself slipping back, your arm giving up under the pressure only making you whine when your back hit against the mattress, you left your hands where they landed taking almost all the space in bed.

The mornings beside Steven were nice, starting your day with tea – while Marc preferred the taste of morning coffee and Jake settled with a cold glass of water – and vegan breakfast, sometimes there was toast with jam spread on top, other times it was scrambled eggs with beans to the side; today he completely outdid himself, coming back with a stack of pancakes drizzled with honey and frozen berries on top, a little cup filled with bananas and your tea in hand. He placed your cup by your side and kissed the top of your head while his hand cupped the crane of your neck and the little gesture sent sparks to your heart.

You tried to reach for the cup but Steven beat you to it, passing the hot beverage to you. It was milky and smelled like cinnamon and honey.

“Wait…” your head turned to look at him once both of you were tucked back in bed, your laptop proned on his chest so that both of you could see it while cuddling, he turned to look at you raising his eyebrows “Does this mean the bookstore trip is cancelled?”

“We can do that later” you used his arm as a makeshift pillow while he held you close, his hand covered your eyes playfully “right now you need to rest”

“No I don’t” you shifted to your side, putting your weight on your elbow almost peering over him.

From there you saw how he rolled his eyes and still kept a tiny smile on his face, how the laptop was placed on the floor for a moment so he could shift on his side. Now that you both were staring into each other’s faces you could see it, it was faint but it was there.

He was scared, the doe eyes he tried to suppress where still there as his worry ate him alive. You really fucked up, didn’t you? He reached for you, brushing the side of your body and accidentally making pressure near your waist. He saw first-hand how your face screwed up and you hissed at the sudden contact.

Too harsh

“I think you do” the tired tone didn’t match the perked up eyebrow adorning his face, he turned to reach once more for the electronic device and all you could do was scoff.

It really wasn’t the fact that you had to cancel your plans that bothered you, neither was spending away your Saturday evening watching movies with Steven, but you felt like a burden. You were the reason they had to come home earlier last night, why Marc couldn’t spend more time with Layla even if you knew how much he had been looking out for it and why now Steven couldn’t go out scavenging for new books to fill the blank spaces in his bookshelves, because even if you insisted for him to just go without you he wouldn’t even budge.

Calm down.

Steven was glad you couldn’t hear his thoughts or you would get a glance of how he really didn’t know how to approach you right now, he tried his best to just breath it out but his first instinct was to leave you in bed and just sit on the chair by the end of it, just coming closer when you needed something, because he didn’t want to cause you pain. But he knew better, he knew that the moment he went away from your reach he would be causing you an ever greater pain, so he settled for distracting both of you from it until it was time for him to bring you the next dosage of painkillers.

You picked the movie, an animated one that you haven’t seen since you left college. You laid with his arm around you, his warmth mixed with the blanket and heather helped you not to shiver, as the hours passed the temperature started to descend and the movie ended just in time for Steven to make a quick trip to the kitchen, bringing you back a glass of water and a tablet of medicine, you opened your mouth slightly sticking your tongue out so he could place it there before handing the glass to you.

You saw how he strolled back and forth before coming back to bed, taking away the dirty dishes and bringing both of you a new cup filled with tea, his was sweet while yours was sour. You liked the taste of sweetness in the morning when it was still blissful and quiet while opting for a more strong taste in the later hours, maybe it had something to do with the fact that you could never seem to find sugar at work and always forget to bring your own, and right now that’s what you needed the most, a sense of familiarity and a taste of your routine.

Like everything was fine, like you didn’t mess up.

“Steven?” the next movie had already been going for a couple of minutes before you decided to speak up, at this point you weren’t even paying attention to it, only using the sound from the laptop as a way to drown out the otherwise silent flat and loud mind.

“Do you need something love?” he paused the movie already getting up.

Keep calm

You shook your head and looked the other way, trying hard to avoid his stare.

“I just…” trying to gulp down the knot forming in your throat was hard. The guilt from yesterday’s events was revived and you couldn’t stop but think of how everything would’ve been different if you just listened “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to ruin the night or today for that matter, I really wanted us to go and– “

He called for your name as he moved closer towards you “It’s alright, you don’t have to apologize”

“But I do!” there was an urge bubbling in the pit of your stomach, to find a culprit and the only person available to be condemned was you “I was dumb and reckless, and you always tell me but I never listen, and if only I listened this wouldn’t have happened”

“You saw being picked on and you went out of your way to help” his hand cupped your face softly rubbing your cheek with his thumb “There’s nothing to apologize for that”

“Still–“ you felt pressure on your face as he pushed his forehead against yours, it was nice. It helped you to notice how you were tangling your hands with the blanket, gripping it hard.

“Tell that little nob of yours to stop nattering” you closed your eyes trying to focus solely on his voice and drown out the thoughts that crossed your mind, you felt the way the mattress moved under his weight when he approached you, his face finding its way towards your neck “And come take a bath… you stink” his words came through with laughter and your eyes suddenly opened as you gasped.

“You little shit!”

Taking your shirt off was a challenge he imposed himself, unable to stand watching you while you struggled to even move the arm, you tried to push him away but after a while of just fighting with it you left him do it instead. The fabric being pulled and thrown away, his calloused hands were soft against your skin careful not to tuck at the bandages that kept the wound shielded from his eyes, it was better that way, the immense relieve of not having to face it just yet, avoiding thinking about it, avoiding acknowledging it besides the lingering knowledge that he had to give you a new dosage of painkillers just after shower and not to be too rough near it.

He could just pretend it didn’t exist for a few more minutes before he had to clean it and change it. Out of sight, out of mind.

The same can’t be said by the bruising and scratches on your torso, splotches of purple and green mixed with crimson dashes reminded you of watercolour and your hand instinctively mode to it. It was captivating, brushing near it without making any pressure, oh but was it tempting. Alluring you almost, like a chant that made you compliant to the urge to dig into it, to just lean into the splashes on your side and make sure that it wasn’t just a trick of the light.

But it wasn’t the light, it was an admonition. Don’t indulge into affairs of the gods and don’t drift into the business of others.

He reacted quicker than you did, managing to pull you away from those thoughts, his hand guided yours away from your skin and his lips left soft kisses on your neck as it was the closest he dare to get to the wound.

Steven made sure the water was warm and not too hot or too cold before he helped you get into the tub. He sat right next to it, scrubbing away the sweat and worried from you with the help of a sponge, you wanted to move his hands away, to take it from him but you aching body wouldn’t let you. So you just indulged against your wishes to the care your partner provided, he made sure to not get to close to your shoulder and to clean away quickly near your ribs.

The water echoed in the tiled room and the light steam from the tub painted the mirror, his hands were all over you but it didn’t feel dirty at all, the care that grazed his gestures as he moved from your legs to your torso and finally your arm, moving it around slowly to scrub it clean, while making sure you were alright.

“Does this hurt?” “Just let me know” “Do you need a break?”

You tilted your head, peering from the edge of the tub to look at him, his figure was soaked, his arms covered in water and soap reaching to the rolled up sleeves of his jumper, the stains where the water had splashed were darker and somehow his hair had managed to also get wet, your heart ached with the need to pull him inside with you and repay the favour by scrubbing his worries away, clean him of the nasty thoughts that tormented him.

“Steven” If it hadn’t been by the calmness in your voice he would’ve thought that something he did hurt you, maybe his hands were harsher on your scratches, maybe he moved your arm too hard and your shoulder was resenting it or maybe he was just too worried to be around you at the moment. He looked back at you rising his eyebrow and with what resembled a smile “Thank you for this”

You closed your eyes in time for him to kiss your lips, it was soft and quick but filled with the unconditional love you had for one another.

“Any time, love”

~☽☾~

You had to call in sick for work and explained what happened, you tried to push it back for as long as you could but Saturday came to an end and with that the deadline was something you had to face, at the middle of your peaceful Sunday Steven went away as Jake pushed himself to front ‘quiero ver tu carita hermosa’ was the excuse he gave that granted him with you smiling immensely and rolling your eyes, for him it was amusing seeing you faking being annoyed.

Right now you couldn’t be gladder to be sleeping and waking up beside him, after Steven thought it would be a great idea to put pillows in the middle of the bed to keep you ‘safe’, to keep you away from his touch. But Jake just laughed at the thought as he embraced you in his arms, softly but steady, feeling your chest moving as you breathing relaxed him into sleeping better, the pressure in his arms helping him to sleep through the night and the strong scent of his cologne having the same effect on you. You got up thanks to the smell of breakfast and the feeling of emptiness besides you, it was weird that you missed it but right now being left behind was the last thing you needed.

“Buenos días dormilona” he took the pillow on his side of the bed, letting it fall right in front of your face and this muffling your groans “roncas horrible, did ya know?

That little bitch

A shit-eating grin was plastered on his face, the one you’ve got to know real well, his hair was pristinely combed back and was wearing only a pair of boxers – which wasn’t unusual –, while Marc preferred to wear them combined with a t-shirt to bed and Steven couldn’t even fathom the idea of not wearing pants while sleeping. He preferred to lay with you like that, to be able to feel with every inch of his skin that you were there besides him, to know you were his and – right now – to know that you were okay.

“Mira quién habla” you scoffed at him, pulling the pillow into your arms, pressing it down a bit against your chest, the markings on your torso being something that don’t bother you as much anymore, and you were grateful because that meant that you could enjoy being able to feel his rougher grip on your waist as he hugged you against him. “You talk in your sleep and I never say shit about it”

He licked his lips trying to supress a smirk.

“I’m confessin’, mi amor. That’s between Konshu and I”

His tone was condescending and yet you knew he meant no ill intent by it. He saw you get out of bed and how you were struggling to get out of the shirt you wore to sleep, but he didn’t budge, knowing that if you needed his help you would ask for it. Eventually you did, he didn’t mind at all helping you take them off, enjoying the sight of you and to leave a trail of kisses along your back, on your shoulder blades and slowly coming up to the nape of your neck. You kept those little instances close to your heart, savouring the moment with closed eyes and total silence, to hear the loud ‘smack’ that his lips did against your skin. His hands trailed from your stomach, past the bruises and scratches on your waist and ribs to stop barely under your chest.

The movement was made with ease as if he knew not to tiptoe around you. To not make you feel weird about it.

Maybe it had something to do with your upbringing, after all, growing up in a house were movement meant working and that correlated to the amount of recognition you got, the praise and love being tide with how useful you made yourself to be. You couldn’t stand to be put, feeling ill and remaining still making you anxious. For some reason you thought that feeling couldn’t be topped by anything else and then you discovered it, being a burden was something much worse.

But Jake somehow knew about that, at times you felt like he could hear your thoughts just glancing at you, reading you like an open book. And so his steady grasp was there when he help you get a new shirt – one with the smell of his cologne – with all the unsaid feelings and longing for each other.

You could feel how much he craved to pull you closer, to forget about what had happened and just loose himself in your lips. For his mind to go quiet as it couldn’t focus on anything else but you, in your hands pulling him closer, to be engulfed by you. Or maybe you were the one with those cravings.

You walked up to the kitchen, taking a look at the now empty glass still placed on the table, the droplets of water rolling down from the water Jake took a few minutes ago. You ate the breakfast he cooked, the boiled eggs with enchiladas bringing you some remembrance of peace, you tried your best to stay grounded, to be present in the moment but he noticed how your mind trailed in the midst of it, a look he knew too well because he has been the one wearing it in the past. He was worried about you, not so much for the wounds that adorned your body, he knew how tough his partner was and that they could take that shit with ease, no, what really worried him was your mind.

Because he knew you like the palm of his hands and know how it wouldn’t give you a rest, filled with thoughts that even if Steven tried his best to scare away they still remained. He would do anything to help you stop them, he just needed you to open up about it. There was something else, something you weren’t telling him, something that bugged you with no end but he couldn’t quite place his finger on it.

He called your name like someone does after being ignored for a while, maybe it was because of the way your fork had been circling against the empty plate or your lost gaze that’s being seeing right past him or even just because he has handed you the tablets of medicine as he refilled your glass with water.

You felt exhausted and scared that he might share the sentiment.

“Lo siento” you took the pills from him plopping it in your mouth and drowning it along with your words.

“Esta bien mi amor” his hand was now on your hair messing it up, he knew how much it annoyed you but he didn’t care because he also knew how much you tried to supress the fact that you actually enjoyed whenever he and Layla did it. “You don’t have to apologize”

“No, es que…” you inhaled sharp, looking up at him. His body was leaning on the table, his weight on both of his arms and the dangling star adorning his neck. “I messed up that night and-“

“I know what you meant, but you don’t have to worry about it” he crunched down, now he being the one looking up at you and you slouched feeling the back of his hand rubbing against your cheek “The bastard is gone, we made sure of that. And you’re okay”

“Wait you did?” You saw him nod content, there was that relief washing your features, not more furrowed eyebrows and worried eyes. “When?”

“no importa amor, lo que importa…” he got up helping you do the same, the feeling of your hands on his was something he couldn’t get enough of, the softness of them against his tainted skin sending a shock of tranquillity through his body “is that you lived to be annoyed by me for another day”

He saw the hesitance creeping back in your eyes and how this fixated in the way your thumb rubbed the back of his hand, tracing the scars that remained on them.

“Hey” his voice was soft, your foreheads pressed against each other and his nose softly brushing yours “Everything is okay”

“You promise?”

“I do” his grip on your hands became sturdier “And I’m no liar”

You left out a tired chuckle “Only when it benefits you”

“Hate the game not the player” the corner of his lips tugged up once more in that stupid grin you fell in love with. He came closer, his hands coming up to grab your head, you leaned into the touch, your hands wrapping around his wrists with a smile on your face.

“I’m pretty sure that’s not how the saying goes” you rolled your eyes but you weren’t actually annoyed, he knew that and you knew that he did.

“I’m pretty sure it is” he closed the distance, pressing his lips against yours and your arms trailed slowly around his neck, the discomfort was there and yet it was eclipsed by the pure ecstasy of tasting him, of having his hands not caring of your damaged skin, grabbing it to keep you right there for him.

Your leg moved up and he helped you to place them around his waist, to have you pressed against him. You could feel your stomach beginning to swirl in anticipation, your shirt riling up when he carried you carefully through the messy apartment back to bed. That bed, that precious bed that held you still like a home you don’t seem to be able to leave, your place of rest for the past two days. Coming to the point of feeling chained to it but right now, in this moment felt more like a throne than a prison.

Where you normally found desire and desperation with torn fabric and sloppy kisses was only love and peace, the care that he felt being transmitted to you. He needed you to realize and understand how much they loved you, for you to understand that forgiveness wasn’t something they could grant you, because it was something only you could give yourself. They didn’t blame you for anything that happened and you needed to understand that, god he really hoped you understood it. It wasn’t your fault.

It was written in all his actions, in how his lips grazed over the purple, green and scabs in his way down, because he knew how it felt to be ashamed of having a wounded body – even if the damaged was caused by protecting someone – and he refused on giving you that option. His hands holding your legs in place while he ripped sweet sounds of pleasure right from your throat.

Those words he gave you just minutes ago replaying in your mind like a chant that would be cemented in your brain for the rest of your days. “I promise, everything is okay”

His lips pressed against yours, shaky breaths clashing against them as you felt his grip on your hips and the way his eyes roamed your face for a sign to stop. There wasn’t.

Everything is okay

His curls hanging on your face while he kept a steady pace, not to rough but not to slow. Just like you needed, he mumbling sweet nothings in Spanish right against your ear, the words falling almost in desperation for you to catch them and keep them near your heart.

Everything is okay.

Your hands intertwined together faces adorned by blissful smiles.

Everything is okay

~☽☾~

Your arm was extended In front of you, the back of his hand against your palm as you tried to analyse every aspect of it, laying on the couch was nice, after talking for a bit while scavenging through the flat and realizing you were all out of snack both of you decided to go buy the missing ingredients for cinnamon rolls, the grocery bags laid on the kitchen counter still packed as the two of you laid together on the couch with a blanket laying across your lap, your back leaned against his chest and his fingers playing with your hair with the occasional kiss being left on the crown of your head.

“How about I become a vigilante?” you jokingly said, the humorous tone made him tilt back his head before nudging it against yours.

“How about ya don’t?” he said only half joking, if you didn’t know him as well as you did you would’ve thought he was angry at you, but he wasn’t.

It was hard reading Lockley sometimes, to the untrained eye it would seem like his waking days where just a cruel joke he had to live through, that he was angry just for existing but in actuality he just had that kind of face, the one that keeps people at arm’s length even if he is nothing but polite, forcing him to just cherish the company of the few people who seemed to look past it. Enjoying his time with the ones he cares about, going out of his way to see Crawley every now and then, going to Gena’s dinner whenever he had the chance, texting with Layla every other month and spending all the time he could by your side.

“Come on! It would be fun, I could star sparing with-“ you took a deep breath before continuing “At least you have to admit I would look great, covered in battle scars” you let go of his hand and leaned to the side to look at him comfortably.

He shook his head.

“Me gustas asi” he left a kiss on your wounded shoulder, it was loud but didn’t leave traces of pain “no te cambiaría nada”

The feeling of him pressed against you was comforting, the warmth of his body making the pain tolerable and traces of guilt only an afterthought that you didn’t even focus on instead the migraine inducing reminder that it was. And yet your mind didn’t seem to feel like giving up, making that aching question that you’ve managed to push back for a while something more present and distracting.

“So…” you said elongating the ‘o’ “I know you’re not mad at me”

He hummed for you to continue, there was a small frown on his face as he paid close attention to your words.

“And I know neither is Steven” you tried your best to find the exact words to describe what you were feeling, thinking, aching to ask but it was hard, why was it so hard? You sighed “But I… ¿Qué hay de Marc?”

“¿Qué con él?” His fingers grazed through the side of your arm as a way to tell you ‘hey, it’s fine! You can do it’

“Is he mad at me?” you blurred out, finally spitting out the thought that made your stomach swirl, you glanced at him before looking down to your hands, resting on your lap “I mean, even Layla has called to check on me and-“ you sucked in a breath, his hand reaching out to tangle in between yours “I haven’t heard from him since it happened”

“No mi amor” he pulled you in closer to him, as close as he could without harming you in any way. “He’s ashamed”

He couldn’t stand the tint of guilt creeping back into your words or the way you seemed to become smaller, hunching away from his embrace, how the seemingly nice afternoon turned slowly in something more. You turned to look at him, scooping to the other side of the sofa away from his reach.

“He feels like… this is his fault” he confessed, his eyes looking briefly to your shoulder before coming back to meet your gaze and his hand reached to his temple “and he’s fuckin’ yellin’ all of the sudden”

You wanted to ask for him, to be able to hold Marc and reassure him that none of this was his fault, but you were hesitant, never demanding any of your boyfriends to front before. But the need was there and it was big, so scared of what his mind could be telling him, because for a moment it reminded you of the echoes of your own thoughts. You knew Marc, how he could get caught up into himself, so blinded by the bad thoughts that kept him in place. Sure you had bad days but you also saw how hard his ‘good days’ seemed to be, coming close to those where you weren’t able to leave the bed without some encouragement.

Yet Jake seemed to understand just what you needed without having to spell it out for him and in a split second he was gone, pulling marc to the front. You saw how his eyes grew larger with hesitance and the fear that coated them, how his eyebrows were furrowed and the way his lip trembled as he backed, pressing his back harder into the sofa, and a sudden rush of coldness passing through made you shiver. You reached for his arm but he flinched at the movement, the striking paint going from the tip of your fingers to the wound in the shoulder and tearing a whine out from the depths of your throat.

“Fuck” he said, his eyes frantically looking at you – trailing from your eyes to your chest, down your hands, hips and back to your eyes but not the shoulder, never the shoulder- as he couldn’t stop his body from shaking, It felt weird seeing him like this, frail and scared. Like those nights he would wake up drenched in sweat from a nightmare and would plea you to go back to sleep before going for a new glass of water. But right now it was a bit different, looking like a stray animal that tried to find shelter out of reach from reckless kid that tried to pet him.

Because of you

You saw him becoming stiffer in front of you, how his breath seemed to come to a pause as his hands tried to reach out for you even if his mind screamed to do the opposite, to keep you away where he couldn’t hurt you anymore. The thing about Spector is that he knew deep down, under all the love and longing that he had for you how much danger you were in just by knowing his name, by wrapping your arms around him as you slept together with his back against your chest, and by having a knight for company.

Because that’s what he was and with that came the responsibility of protecting you, even if you insisted and proved how capable you were on taking care of yourself, it was something he felt obligated to do, to keep you safe since that tumultuous night you stumbled into him. Since he fell in love with your soft words and careful touches as if you knew how much damage he has gone through and just how badly he longed for someone to soothe him back to sleep.

When his mind decided it would be great to bring back those faces of the people he had managed to cause pain along his path.

In a loud house a silent room is a blessing, tucking his heart under the bed where the noise doesn’t reach. It’s only a matter of time until he learned that a loud house is something out of the ordinary, something to fear and want to escape from.

Fuck the loud noises, the yelling and screaming. Fuck the shattered plates and thrown pots, the cracking belts and the stinging hands.

He just wanted the peace, security and quietness of a tranquil house, a noiseless home. Things that you handed to him with ease, as if it was something so common, something that didn’t come from obligation, because it was so normal and yet he couldn’t comprehend that something like that could ever be given to him, even if someone had already done it before.

And yet you did. You gave it away without whining or expecting anything in return from Marc because the spark in those brown eyes and the creases that formed around his mouth whenever he smiled was enough pay for you. Feeling the need to scream into the wind how much you loved Marc Spector, to let the world know that no matter what happened you would be by his side. No, to be by their side, because your love didn’t stop at one of them, it seemed like your heart was made in the perfect way to fit into theirs, like a puzzle piece that would be incomplete otherwise.

He tried his best to remember that, to know that everything was okay but he saw how much he had been a toll in other people’s lived and he dreaded the idea of becoming one in yours. He noticed how less frequently your mom called since you started to date him, how you made up excuses not to go back home since you started to live together and how your spark seemed to die down whenever someone pointed out your hometown, it was miniscule but it was there and it pained him.

“Marc” you called for him, he had no idea when both of you left their place on the sofa or when you took his hands in yours, your eyes trying to catch a glimpse of his, making his chest ache in the process, seeing the worry building up in your features.

He should be the one taking care of you, not the other way around.

His hands left yours as soon as he realized, blinking to fight back the tears that started to pile up in the corner of his eyes. This was too much, the air starting to feel heavy and the walls seemingly closer than normal and yet to far apart, no matter how much air filled his lungs it wasn’t enough and he just wanted to go.

“Hey” you took his hand slowly placing it on your chest, his eyes following along. He saw the way your chest moves steady and slow, he tried his best to mimic the rhythm closely but it was hard “breathe” you mouthed, noticing how hard it was for him to actually listen to your voice.

Run

You saw the way he shook his head creating more distance between the two of you, not bearing to touch you knowing what he had caused.

“I- I shouldn’t have…” he tried to speak up but the dryness of his throat made it almost impossible, his hands reached to his chest pushing down on it in hopes for ease the pain growing on it and maybe even being able to push out the words in the process “It’s my fault, I should’ve gone with you, I shouldn’t have left you alone”

He stumbled through his words, trying hard not to listen to what his mind was telling him and instead stay with you and talk things through, he wanted to scape, to go back inside so whoever wanted to take his place could but he pushed through it, feeling both Jake and Steven close to him as if reassuring him with those same words he kept repeating to himself this past days ‘everything is okay’.

You wanted to run and pull him into a hug, to keep him safe and snugged against yourself with your hearts beating near each other but didn’t know if that was the right thing to do.

“Marc” you breathed “It wasn’t your fault, I wanted to go alone”

You were crunched over still trying to even out your breath, it was hard almost impossible with the circle of people around you, leaving barely enough space for you to think.

Layla was too focused on calming down the brunette girl that seemingly could cry a river all by herself, the one that trembled under her friend’s touch as she dragged her hand along her back to ease her. You wished the world would go silent for a moment so you could hear what they were saying without having to move.

That’s when you saw him walking back, almost sprinting to your side after getting rid of the guy that punched you. He wanted to make him pay for what he had done but the thought of you heaving here all alone while Layla made sure the girls were okay was enough to drag him back with that need being unfulfilled.

He reached out to you, helping you to get back on your two feet and getting a whine out of you.

“Are you-“

“Okay?” you cut him out nodding, the pain was there but nothing you couldn’t breathe through “Yes, don’t- yes bebé”

“Hey so…” Layla leaned on Marc’s shoulder once she was back “the girl’s came alone, apparently her birthday? Also exchange students” she sighed “They have no one who can pick them up or take them home”

“I- We can take them” you heaved through, still trying to recollect your breath.

“No” she shook her head and placed a hand on your shoulder “You need to rest, I’ll go with them, make sure they are safe”

You looked at them understanding that there was no way of changing that.

“I guess” you sucked in a breath and closed one of your eyes in a pained expression “But let me walk you to the bus stop, I need some fresh air”

Her eyes drifted away from you as she thought about it for a while, desperately wanting to say no but once she looked back at you, she understood exactly what you were thinking of.

“I guess” she finally said.

“I’ll go with you” he voiced out, his eyes left Layla’s to look back at you, he knew just how stubborn both of you were but hoped he could convince you somehow.

You shook your head chuckling and patted his chest “It’s not far, I’ll see you at the car”

You needed this, to be alone for a second. To know that you could be one minute without being scared, to know that this wouldn’t become something you’ll be afraid of next time you wanted to go out.

“I should’ve insisted” he wanted to step back but for some reason his legs weren’t responding to his commands, hot tears beginning to stream down his face.

You moved slowly towards him, afraid of making a wrong move that would scare him away. One hand resting on his chest while the other reached to wipe away his tears and slowly guiding him to look at you.

“Oh bebé…” it was soft and short but full of memories.

“No” he shook his head placing his jacket on ready to go down street with you “I’m going”

“Marc, please…” you weren’t asking anymore, you were begging to him and he noticed it “I need this”

He was afraid of the funny feeling in his gut telling him to not let you win, to push back and go with you even if you would be all moody in your way back home but the pleading eyes were too much, the sound of your desperate voice asking for his trust.

He sighed

“It’s my fault” he said once more and you couldn’t tell if those words were directed to you or to himself. His voice felt tinted by the bitter ring of Wendy’s and Jake grew angry at them while Steven felt pure sorrow.

“It’s not your fault” pushing through the pain your hands guided his head to press his forehead against yours “everything is okay”

It wasn’t much of a reminder this time, it was a promise.

It took a while to get him out of that heavy mind-set, his breathing becoming less frantic when he finally started to listen, to actually understand what the words that you gave him meant. He tried hard not to flinch away when your fingers reached for his, keeping the little hiccups at bay when your hand ran through his back, his eyes were red and puffy from all the crying, and he told you how his nose felt stuffy when you passed him a napkin. You tried to cheer him up, cleaning away the mess from his face while he apologized for ‘everything’, you didn’t exactly know what everything meant for him though and you wished to believe he only meant to apologize for forgetting how none of this was caused by him, for forgetting that his arms where the place that made you feel like you were truly home. Of course you reminded him with a simple ‘it’s fine’.

“How about we make the cinnamon rolls?” his eyes remained closed and his head leaned against your touch when you brushed his dark curls away from his face, enjoying the view of his now relaxed expression.

You always found it funny how your lovers shared the same face and yet they had their unique way of making it ‘theirs’, how they managed to look so different.

“Yeah, I’d like that” he replied nodding slightly, he felt you pulling your hand away and held it in place to leave a small kiss before any contact between the two of you was lost.

“Just… remember to double check” you laughed seeing him rolling his eyes, he pushed softly your hip with his fist before leaning to take out the bowl you always used while baking.

It was nice, knowing he wasn’t scared of being around you as he was a couple of hours ago.

“I swear the salt and sugar look the same!” he wrapped his arms around you.

Careful

He reminded himself once more, this time it wasn’t directed to Jake while patching you up or to Steven while dressing you down but to silence all the other nasty thoughts that threatened to ruin once more his time with you. He wouldn’t let them win, not this time at least.

He couldn’t let them because he wanted this, to spend his time away next to you, craving desperately to hear that laugh that melted his heart away and forget once and for all that anything bad could happened or that occurred in the first place. Nothing would keep that pleasure away from Marc, not even himself.

By the time you were done there were splotches of flours on your clothes and face, not even the kitchen counter and floors were speared of the mess. Marc’s proud smile when he passed you the sugar instead of the salt container was picture worthy and you tried multiple times to sneak a taste from the uncooked batter just for him to smack your hand away making you giggle.

He took a little bit of glazing with his fingers for you to taste, it was delicious.

You were laying on the floor, the cool hardwood floor contrasting with the heat coming from the oven, it was nice, the mix of the cool temperature on your back with the slight warm on the air, there weren’t a lot of things left to say emerging yourself in the comfortable silence, it only being disrupted by the ticking clock on top of the counter that counted down the seconds until the rolls were finally done. After a little while of lying next to Marc he finally spoke up, a little ”hey” rushing from him.

You turned to look at him, his eyes set on the ceiling and a smile slowly making itself present on his face, shining like stars in the night sky.

“Have I ever told you, what I thought when I first saw you?” it came with traces of laughter, the embarrassment of reminding that night mixed with pure disbelief.

You shook your head “No”

“I just- I just wanted to kiss you” the lights were dim making it hard to see, but you knew his face would be glowing in a lovely shade of crimson as he moved his hand covering his eyes “I couldn’t believe someone like you would walk up to that mess and call me amor”

It was late at night in the pub near his old apartment, the one he used to share with Layla, he couldn’t be further from home but he didn’t mind it – Steven’s flat never really felt like home to him anyways – as he could use some time walking alone with his thoughts, it wasn’t that late into the night but he was already as drunk as he could be and it was time to get going, he just needed to remember where his keys were.

It would also be really helpful to be able to stand up without gobbling and plastering his face on the floor. His head rested in between his hands leaning on the bar with a glass of whiskey he didn’t remember ordering next to him.

The pressure from a hand on his back made the man turn faster than you expected, not even his fuzzy senses could manage to slow down his reaction when he felt your lips pressed against his cheek. And then he heard it, your voice ringing in his ears and bringing him an unexpected sense of peace, one that he hadn’t realize would be possible since it left packed inside his ex-wife’s suitcase, fuck! Why was he thinking of her? That was the solely reason he had even gone out tonight.

To forget

“Sorry… do I know you?” his Chicago accent was stronger when he drank and in the mornings, but it’s not like the person in front of him would know that.

The hand left its place on his back as if the mere contact burned harder than fire and he couldn’t explain why he wanted to ask for it back, was he that desperate? That touch starved that he would feel the need to ask a stranger not to back away? To just keep you close to him and your touch on his aching body.

“Steven?” when the name fell from your lips it all made sense and he couldn’t help but feel worse for longing the touch from someone that wasn’t his to long for. He couldn’t be selfish and keep love away from his alters just because it was kept from him.

Fuck, his eyes focused on your lips feeling himself slipping away, his gut stirring at the urge to beg Steven to give him just five more minutes with you and maybe get to know each other.

This definitely would be a night impossible to forget.

The little bell from the oven rang and you turned with excitement, Marc got up and helped you so your eagerness for a sweet treat wouldn’t hurt you in the process, it was still a while for you to actually eat them and you knew that but fuck were you excited for it.

“I wanted to ask you” he was slicing the still hit rolls for you to finally have that sweet you were craving, after all your impatiens was notable when it came to stuff like this “about your má”

“Yeah?” your eyes jumped from the plate in front of you to him, going to the fridge and taking something to drink for both

“Did something happen?” he sat on the opposite side of the table, hand playing with his wristwatch.

“No, why are you asking?” you moved your plate to sit next to him, your hand reaching for his and your head resting on his shoulder.

“I’ve noticed she hasn’t called” he reached for the box of meds that made its home on the table, handing you some water along with them.

“Oh yeah, she’s just busy” you smiled and plopped them in your mouth “Starting a business is hard”

“What?” he tried hard not to sound as confused as he was but failed miserable “I thought- when did that happen?”

“Well… she’s always talked about it and, after a while of pushing I finally managed to convince her to open her own restaurant” you sighed and shrugged “told her I could go down there to help out for a while but she told me not to worry. I know she is busy and all but sometimes I just… it wouldn’t even make sense for me to visit her right now if I’m not going to help, you know? Don’t want to be a-“

You fell in silence, not knowing how to put what you were feeling into word.

“Burden?” he heard you hum and shook his head “You’re not. I really thought you fought or something” he was relieved to be in the wrong.

“Why would we?” he shrugged “well we didn’t so stop worrying about it”

“Is that why you haven’t gone?” he saw the way you rolled your shoulders, the pain no longer there.

“A part of it, yeah. But maybe we could go together next time? I would love for you to meet her”

You’ve talked with her about your boyfriends, it took her a while to understand what it all meant but once she couldn’t help but be glad her ‘little baby’ was loved by someone so strong and capable, sometimes she would say hi to them when you were on facetime.

“I would like that too”

You kissed his shoulder and then his neck, trailing up to kiss his lips, his hand cupping your face

And in that moment there weren’t big descriptions to be made.

Only silence and kisses with taste of cinnamon rolls.

me adding the translations? wow that's something new

¿Te lo dije, o no? - I told you so, didn't I?

¡Respira maldita sea! - breathe god dammit!

Steven, si no te callas juro que-“ - Steven if you don't shut up I swear-

Mi amor - My love

¡Mierda Lockley! - shit Lockley!

y no quiero dejarte - and I don't want to leave you

Jake, ya… porfa - Jake, come one… please

Mierda - shit

Puta madre - fucking hell

quiero ver tu carita hermosa - I want to see your pretty face

Buenos días dormilona - Good morning sleepyhead

roncas horrible - you snore horribly

Mira quién habla - look who's talking

Lo siento - I'm sorry

Esta bien mi amor - it's alright my love

No, es que… - no, it's just…

no importa amor, lo que importa… - doesn't matter love, what matters…

Me gustas asi - I like you like this

no te cambiaría nada - wouldn't change a thing

¿Qué hay de Marc? - what about Marc?

¿Qué con él? - What about him?

No mi amor - no my love

bebé - baby

má - (short for mom)

#jake lockley #marvel #moon knight #steven grant #moon knight system #marc spector #steven grant x reader #jake lockley x y/n #jake lockely x you #i'll die for soft jake #steven grant x you #marc spector x you #marc spector x reader #marc spector fanfic #jake lockley fanfiction #steven grant fanfiction #hurt/comfort #angst with a happy ending

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ashes-writing-corner · 7 months

Text

I know, I know, I said I wasn't gonna write fanfiction in the month of November. I kinda lied.

Look season 2 of Moon Knight has been announced and I am a sucker for any and all things Oscar Isaac and the moon boys. That all being said, please enjoy this Jake Lockley and Steven Grant angst fest! If it gets enough likes/reblogs/comments, I'll do a part 2 with Marc. He was supposed to be in it but I ran out if time to write more.

TW: mention of the thought of self harm, somewhat accidental self harm, possible oocness, and probably very badly translated Spanish (yes, I used Google translate sue me....seriously don't I have nothing XD)

Perfect Little Punching Bag

Love.

Hate.

There was always such a fine line between them. Was love always so fickle? Was hate always so non linear? Not helping matters was that all too often, the two emotions blended in a painful mix for him.

It used to hurt. It used to hurt a lot…

At least Steven had been sold some kind of illusion that someone gave a rat's ass about him. Happiness based on a lie was no way to live, sure, but he had it. He believed someone cared about him, the person who was supposed to care for them the most.

The same person he was created to protect their body from: their own mother.

The two had their roles, and while they were close, they never actually met. Steven protected Marc Spector's heart, as in the center of the innermost feeling. Jake was created with no such blissful delusion. No. There was no comfort, no care for Jake Lockley. He was created to protect the physical body from all means of harm.

When Wendy screamed, he would hear without truly listening. When she whipped or beat him, he'd feel it without reacting. No. He could not, and would not, let her win. Although his young throat would burn with the urge to roar and fight back, at the time he knew he stood no chance. He would lay there in the aftermath, wide eyed, his back and everywhere else burning and welted. But she did not win.

She never won when it came to Jake. She did not see his tears. She wouldn't ever see them. And if she didn't, no one else surely would.

Where had he found his first blade again? Oh yes, he had taken it out of one of Marc's old pencil sharpeners. Jake had snagged the smallest screwdriver he could find so he could take it out. After every beating, every screaming session, when Jake felt strong enough again, he'd lift the rug in his alter's bedroom and carve another tally into the floor. Jake didn't know why he had kept track, there wasn't a point, but even now, he kept track of the many times he won, the times he cracked but never shattered. He had thought of using the blade several times on himself, but knew that would go against his purpose. Why cause more damage to a body he was supposed to defend? No, no…the floor was covered under that rug with evidence of his wrath.

Hate was an easy emotion. He was born in and from it, molded by it. If he felt it most of the time could he really call it hate? Hate at his abusive mother and enabling father. Hate at his alters for their closeness from which he was excluded. Hate at the world for molding him into this…this monster. He understood this was his lot in life, to be this hated and hateful monster, and for the longest time Jake never objected. It was his job in life and in the system. He knew his place.

But overtime, it began to slowly take its toll.

Jake was all too aware of the hole in his heart, if he could even call it that anymore. It was more than that now. A gaping, bloody maw that roared to be fed or else it would consume him. It was why he did what he did as brutally as he did it. Feed the maw, kill the pain inside. That was the deal. But no matter how much he did, or what he tried, it would come back with a vengeance eventually, angry at its suppression and hungry all over again. Longing consumed him, and icy loneliness gripped at his heart. It was bearable, but only to a certain extent. Again, it was his lot in life.

But then Marc met Layla, falling in love. Oh Jake hated him for that. Marc had the nerve, the gall, the AUDACITY to attempt to be happy while Jake rotted in the excess of HIS despair?! He could stand it when one of his alters was happy. He was okay with either Steven or Marc being happy but not both of them at the same time! How was that fair?! Even if Steven's happiness was built on illusion, he still HAD it. He felt a semblance of it, a taste of it.

But there was no such thing as that for Jake Lockley. Never. He wasn't created to be loved. He was never meant to BE happy. He was the monster Marc created for his own darker tendencies, a way for him to subdue his conscience to do his mercenary work.

Sometimes, Jake would think about trying to approach one of or maybe both of them. Jake would imagine it, talking himself up a bit, trying to think of what he would tell them, and hope that the two alters would find something in him worth accepting. But oh no Khonshu couldn't let that happen. The moon god poured poison in Jake's ear, which dripped slowly to the maw in his heart…

“Do you really think those two idiots care about you? If they did, wouldn't they have freed you in the Duat? Wouldn't they have added your heart to the scales to be weighed? Wouldn't they have gone back for you? You know exactly how they would react” Khonshu pointed out and would fill Jake's head with horrid illusions of their reactions.

Steven was always afraid of him, no matter what he tried. Marc was disgusted most of the time, and unsympathetic, like a cold and uncaring master kicking his dog. Well, a kicked dog could only take so much before lashing out, seeing enemies everywhere. The moon god had succeeded in turning Jake against the other two…

Or so he thought.

It was in a deep state of meditation that he was found. In the darkest corner of Marc Spector's mind was Jake Lockley's own personal hell, his domain. No longer in that damn sarcophagus, it was replaced with a dark room, a small closet more like, with tally marks all over the walls. Countless numbers of them. Jake couldn't keep track of them anymore.

Some ‘victories’ they were indeed.

Of the alters, it was Steven who found him first. Sweet Steven Grant with his damn heart of gold…why did it have to be him?! Sitting in that corner, wallowing in his despair, with the maw begging to be fed again. It was always so damn hungry now…

Steven looked at the wretched place, concern etched into his features. But he knew they both needed answers. Who the hell was this and what did they want? There was blood all over the floor and tally marks carved in all four walls from floor to ceiling. A shadow sat facing a corner, uncaring about the horror around him. A single light bulb on a string was the only light in that room and it was dull, fading. It looked like something out of a horror movie. Steven trembled as he approached the shadow in the corner.

“Hey…hey there, you okay?” He managed to speak out despite what he was looking at.

Jake let out something that sounded like a growl. “Salir…”. (Go away)

“I'm sorry wha-”.

“Get out…¡ahora!”. (Now!)

“Whoa! Whoa…whoa….okay! Someone is very protective of their space-”.

“Salir! No volveré a preguntar!” Jake found the small pencil sharpeners blade close by. (Get out, I won't ask again!)

Steven squinted trying to figure out what it was he was holding. “Okay first of all, English please, and second, I have no idea what that is but I'd appreciate it if you put it back. I didn't come here looking for a fight” he said, trying to keep his voice stable and somewhat gentle.

“Go away, Steven. This isn't where you belong…”.

“If I dare say it, you don't belong here either”.

Jake scoffed. “I'm a part of this too”.

“What do you-no! I meant you don't belong in here you big doofus!”.

He hardly gave any mind as he walked along the bloody floor to approach Jake, still facing the corner with the small blade in his hand. Steven felt this oddly familiar feeling with this shadow, this thing. He looked at all the tally marks, and gently brushed his hand against them.

“What are these?” Steven asked.

“Victories…” Jake answered, though he didn't dare look at him, not directly.

From his peripheral vision, however, he could see the man with a softer version of his own hardened face frown, his eyes soft with sadness, not fear. Why wasn't he afraid? Khonshu said he'd be afraid!

“Victories over what?” He asked, “cause from where I'm standing this doesn't look like victory”.

“Would you prefer if I said they were kills?” He asked in kind, keeping his tone dark, even if inside he was trembling.

The maw was quiet. Deathly so.

“No…no i think we can stick with victories for now” Steven answered and looked around nervously, unsure of what to say. He decided that skipping the limbo would probably be the best way to go.

“Are you a third one? Are you like me?” He asked.

“Podrías decirlo…” Jake replied bitterly, his hand clenching around the blade, not caring about its sharp sting. (You could say that)

Steven frowned. “I don't like the sound of that but I'm assuming that's a yes…and a very angry one. Hey…you don't have to stay here, you know that right?”.

Jake scoffed, attempting to ignore the pain in his palm. He wanted to turn the blade on Steven, to at least give him a taste of his pain. Maybe it would even piss Marc off enough to get his attention! Oh…wouldn't that be fun? Because as much as he despised and envied Steven, he absolutely hated Marc for his wretched existence. And hurting them both would feel amazing in the moment...

“This is where I belong” he answered simply.

“Who says?” Steven asked, “you don't deserve this. What's your name?”.

“It doesn't matter”.

“It matters to me, and it definitely matters to Marc-”.

Jake scoffed louder at that. “He doesn't care about me. He doesn't give a damn about me. Nadie hace…”. (No one does)

“That's not true! He just doesn't know about you! Look, if I can get us all here at the same time-”.

“Not on our life! It's bad enough you're here!”.

Steven frowned deeply at that, looking quite hurt. “You didn't want us to find you, didn't you? Why?”.

The look on the alter's face was bitter and angry. His eyes, one brown and the other a deep red, were sharp and could cut deeper than any knife. He looked so much like them and yet was so distinctively different. Something in him looked…tired. Tired and sad. Like all he wanted to do was rest.

Despite everything, deep down Jake didn't want to hurt either of them. Looking at Steven now, it made that long suppressed longing come back in small waves at first. Years of telling himself he didn't care about their approval, their “love”, came back to bite Jake in the face in the most vicious way.

He didn't hate his alters.

No, in fact, something in him loved them, which was why he still did what he was meant to do.

So no, hate wasn't what he felt.

To his surprise, Jake realized that he didn't hate them. What he felt was envy, a deep seated, rooted jealousy aimed at them. Sure there was some resentment there as well, but envy was definitely the stronger of the two. Since their excursion to the Duat, this envy had only grown, the roots taking a stronger deeper hold of Jake's heart. He was jealous of the bond they shared, even if it seemed out of whack in the beginning. When they all took down Harrow together, despite having done most of the work, he wasn't included in that victory. Since then, Jake had been a shadow on the outskirts of their peaceful life…

“A stress ball…”.

Steven looked confused. “What?”.

“You asked Marc if you were some kind of stress ball or something not too long ago…”.

Steven looked at him and squinted. “Wait…the Duat? You were there? Hold on a minute! Was that you in the other sarcophagus?! The one trying to get out?!”.

His nod hit Steven like a freight train. They had left him there. They abandoned him.

“I'm so sorry. If I'd known-”.

“Be lucky you were that. An emotional fucking stress ball. At least you were fed an illusion she cared about you”.

Steven's hurt turned right away to offense. “Excuse me?! You think I liked learning about that?! I feel like the truth-”.

“If you knew the truth you would've never survived-”.

“I survived just fine thanks! If there's something you wanna say then say-”.

With the utmost viciousness he could muster, Jake hissed back: “Te odio!”. (I hate you!)

Steven almost flinched back. He barely understood a lick of Spanish, but judging from the harshness of his tone and the anger on his face, it didn't take a genius to know what he meant. Not helping matters was the sadness in Jake's eyes. More than anger, more than bitterness or envy, he was just sad.

“I don't hate you” Steven told him, “even if you hate me” he put a gentle hand on Jake's shoulder.

Jake brushed it off, trying to keep his angry and hateful glare. Steven wasn't falling for it, as he again put a hand on his shoulder.

“I don't hate you” Steven repeated, “a little wigged out but…no, I don't hate you. I want to help you, and I know Marc does too-”.

“He. Doesn't. Care. He used me as his shield! I'm nothing to him! I'm just a…a punching bag. That's all I've ever been!” his voice broke, as his sadness took a hold, “just a perfect little stoic punching bag!”

It wasn't fair. It wasn't! He deserved to be loved, at least just a little. He deserved to have a life outside this hell his alter condemned him to. He'd do anything for it, to be more than just…well…this! He dropped the blade from his hand, hissing in pain as the cut was deeper than he thought it would be. It fell to the bloody floor with a soft clink and Steven was quick to kick it away before Jake could grab for it again. The softer alter hugged him tightly, the same one the moon god told Jake would be afraid of him, catching him entirely off guard.

“No more…none of that. It's gonna be okay. I'm here for you…I'm here” Steven hugged him tightly, a hand going through the others hair.

Jake clung to him like a man drowning, like Steven was his only support. Then it got worse: the tears came. Tears of anger, sadness, envy, and frustration, it was a horrid mess of emotions. Ones he didn't like feeling, ones the maw threatened to swallow him in. His body wracked with sobs as Steven hugged and comforted him.

“I'm so sorry…we never should've left you. We didn't-”.

“You didn't know, I know. I was…I was s-scared”.

Steven looked confused. “Scared? You?”.

“Something-something like that” he managed to say, “I just wanted…something. I-I don't know-”.

“It's alright. You don't need to tell us yet if you don't want to. I'm glad I found you” Steven parted from him briefly, “never did tell me your name”.

“Jake…my name's Jake”.

“Jake” Steven smiled warmly, “well…we gotta see about getting you and Marc in the same close headspace”.

Jake shook his head. “I can't. He won't…he'd never accept-”.

“None of that now. Look at me. I'm not a stress ball. You're not a punching bag. It's gonna be okay. We're a part of each other”.

The softness of his tone and his reassuring words tore down what was left of the wall around Jake Lockley's heart. A wall he'd been building since he formed in Marc Spector's mind, many were the times he wished he could take it down without fear of rejection.

“Don't be afraid. We'll talk to him” Steven assured him, “he's gotten a lot better at listening”.

His nerves were a bit fried but Jake nodded. “Alright…I trust you”.

He could only dare hope his trust wasn't misplaced…

#moon knight #jake lockley #steven grant #marc spector #moon knight fanfic #marvel mcu #mcu fanfiction #angst #hurt/comfort

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ninebluehearts · 2 years

Note

Hello friend! Things have been less than fergalicous these days it seems 🫡

Could I maybe get some hurt comfort with any of the moon boys? Maybe with reader dealing with nightmares or recovery from SA, or mentions of parental abuse, whatever you feel comfortable writing. I just want to feel safe with my babies 🥺

Hello, my darling! I hope I can create something comforting without triggering something bad. I'm so sorry to hear that you've been going through stuff lately. Just know that you'll always come out stronger in the end 💕

(I'm also very sorry it took me so long to write this 😭)

Tw: Nightmares and hints of parental abuse (if you squint, really)

Secrets between you and the boys could only be hidden for so long. They knew you and you knew them all too well. So, as the dark purple bags under your eyes became more prominent as time went on, the boys suspicion only grew.

Steven began asking how you were doing more often (even though he must've already been asking at least once an hour before). And every time you tell him, "I'm fine! Why do you ask?"

So, he would shrug and drop it, giving you a kiss on your forehead before going back to whatever he was doing.

Now, Jake was a bit more up front, but in the nicest way he could be. He had prepared a bath for the both of you; once inside, he began massaging your shoulders and neck. And once he thought you were relaxed enough, that's when the questioning began.

"What's going on with you lately, Mariposa?"

"Hmm?" You'd hum in response, your eyes trying their best to stay open, but never succeeding.

"I don't think you've been sleeping.. Why not?"

"I have, darling. I'm fine-"

"The bags under your eyes say otherwise, so do not say you're fine. Why won't you just talk to me? To us?" Jake had rested his hand on your shoulder, trying his damndest to get you to talk to him, but you wouldn't budge.

"I said I'm fine." You had ground out as tears pricked your eyes, causing you to tug your lip between your teeth; the pain always gave you something else to focus on.

"Y/n, you're not fine, mi amor-"

"And what would you know? You're never even here half of the time!" As you pulled yourself out of the bathtub, you reached over and grabbed your robe from the rack, draping it over your shoulders as you stormed out of the room.

"Y/n!" Jake had called out. He never knew how to handle situations like this, as he was usually watching from the back of the head space. All he could do was sit there and stare at the wall, feeling helpless as you locked yourself in the bedroom, another wave of tears wracking through your body.

Marc had enough of this. All four of you were miserable and upset. He was determined to get to the bottom of this, even if it took all night.

As you laid there sleeping, Marc sat against the headboard watching you. Every breath you took, every twitch of your eyes, every twist and turn, he saw and kept track of. Though his eyes burned and his body ached, he continued to study your sleep patterns, thankfully having Steven and Jake to keep him company.

'That was the fifteenth time she's scrunched her nose in the last two hours.. is that normal?'

'Might just be allergies, mate.'

'Might not be. You can never be so sure.'

'And what do you want him to do? Force a benadryl down her throat and call it a day? Bloody hell, I'm sure it's fine. I'm more worried about the inconsistencies with R E M. She's been in and out quite a bit, don't ya think?'

"Will you guys chill out? I'm sure she's fine. Everything's fine so far." Marc whispered to his alters.

Not too long after, you began mumbling in your sleep. Your breathing picked up as your face twisted into an expression of pure panic.

'I think it's time to wake her up now Marc!' Steven tried to force his way to the front, but Marc resisted.

"Not yet.." He whispered.

'I think Steven's right, hermano..' Jake tried, a sense of urgency in his tone.

"I said not yet-"

Your eyes shot open, a loud sob escaped your lips before you could even attempt to hold it in. Without looking back, you shot out of bed, hurrying towards the bathroom before pushing the door shut.

Marc ran after you, gently knocking on the door. "Y/n? It's Marc.. Can I come in? Please?"

"No! Go away!"

Marc's eyebrows knit together in confusion; you've never yelled at any of them like that before. He reached down and jiggled the knob, only to realize it was unlocked. "I'm coming in, honey." But when Marc opened the door, he was met with you standing on the other side, tears streaming down your face.

"Marc?" You whispered, reality set in that you were home and with Marc, not at your old home with.. them.

"It's me, baby. Come here." Marc held both of his arms open for you, wrapping them as thigh as he could around your waist when you quickly rushed into them. "I've got you. Shh, you're alright." Marc grabbed the back of your thighs and pulled them up onto his hips, carrying you over to the couch.

He sat down against the arm, keeping you as close as possible as he pulled the blanket from the back of the couch and draped it over the both of you. Marc gently rubbed your back, his head laying on top of yours, which was laid on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry." You whispered, wiping the tears from your eyes and Marc's shoulder.

Marc's eyebrows knit together with confusion. "For what?"

"Just- I don't know. For being a mess, I guess? Soaking you with my tears?" You let out a little laugh, wiping your nose with the sleeve of your sweater.

"Hey, hey, no. You're not allowed to apologize for any of that, you hear me? You are so beautiful and perfect, y/n. I'm your husband for Christs sake, I'm blessed to be covered in your tears." Both you and Marc laughed at that, a fresh pair of tears dripping down your cheeks from Marc's sweet words.

"Where did you come from, Marc Spector?" You whispered, breathing out a heavy sigh.

"A similar place as you, I'm afraid. But that's why we work, darling. We understand and support each other." Marc reached out and wiped your tears away once again, this time pulling you close to kiss your nose.

"I love you." You whispered, pressing your forehead against his.

"I love you too." Marc whispered back, both of you closing your eyes to enjoy the moment together. If anybody could understand where you were coming from, it was Marc Spector. And he fully planned on supporting you with all of the love he had to give.

Taglist: @hot-mess-express1

#moon knight #steven grant #marc spector #jake lockley #moon knight imagine #steven grant x reader #thanks for the ask!#jake lockley x reader #marc spector x reader #moonboys x female reader #moon knight fanfic #oscar issac #oscar isaac characters #oscar issac hernandez estrada #💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙thoughts #steven with a v #moonknight hurt/comfort

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romanarose · 1 year

Text

You Are Not Alone

fem!Reader x The Moon Boys

Summary: After a halfhearted attempt, you check yourself into the hospital for a stay in the psychiatric unit, and as always, your boys are there to help you.

WARNINGS: Suicide attempt (not shown), self-harm (not shown just talked about), blood mentions, depression, bulimia, eating disorders, food mentions and eating is shown, some self-ableist language from Marc and reader (marc calling himself crazy, reader saying she didn't 'do' and eating disorder right). neither of these are correct, but sometimes mentally ill (including myself) have these thoughts. Marc is kinda anti-treatment. not like, completely but he's hesitant, got trauma from the duat. shitty medical professionals, so much fucking crying, sex jokes, dark humor, mentions of rough sex/ass eating in joking context. If I missed anything lmk.

a/n: In my head Marc is a secret Star Wars nerd and I only have one single piece of evidence for this, but it's my Marc Spector and he and I are the same so I'll make him however I want to

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

“Hey baby” Marc gently nudged you as you slept on his lap. “They got a room for you.”

You stir, forgetting for a moment where you were. The white room, bright lights and exam bed confused you until you remember. God, what time was it? How long had you been out? You remember falling asleep on Marc’s shoulder as the ER room you were in tried to find you a bed to stay in on your mandatory hold. You look up at Marc’s tired, sad face, and knew he must’ve moved you, staying up while you slept on him, and you felt the pang of guilt you had been feeling in different forms all month. Of course he was tired, dumbass, you woke him up at 1 am halfway through an half-hearted attempt at suicide.

The panic on his face was seared into the back of your head, as were his frantic rambling of ‘fuck, fuck, fuck’ ‘Show me everywhereyou hurt yourself’ and ‘Baby, why?’ That he didn’t really give you a chance to answer. You simply stood there crying as he took care of you, wrapping you up in a few bandages, a few more than probably necessarily, telling him you were sorry, over and over and over until Jake took Marc’s panicking body to hold you, steady you. Steven insisted on the hospital stay. They had all noticed you spiraling lately, and had tried to help; picking up your slack on the cleaning and cooking, dragging you outside to get air, showering you in affection, but it didn’t help, as much as you were grateful. Steven packed a bag as you silently continued crying as you laid on the bed. Your favorite squishmellow, lots of fuzzy socks since your feet get cold, baby Yoda pj bottoms (with the drawstring taken out), and Carrie by Stephan King, which he did not look at but was the first book he grabbed.

They had taken you into the ER, helping you filling out the paper worker and telling you how proud they were of you for coming to them for help, Steven a bit more frantic and rambling, and Marc quieter than usual but you couldn’t stop feeling bad. Were you just being dramatic? Over reacting? You had barely done anything, you could’ve just wrapped yourself up and stuck to long sleeves for a while. You thought about the first time you tried. Highschool, in the bathtub, listening to a P!nk album on the CD player. It didn’t work. You had just sat there, waiting… waiting… waiting… and it didn’t work. You hadn’t done enough. But by that point, you were just exhausted, too exhausted to make a second go of things. So you cleaned up, and walked out into the living room like nothing happened, and watched Community with your mom and brother. You had felt rather stupid then, as you did now.

“Baby?” Marc started, as you didn’t reply to him. “Are you…” he almost said ‘are you okay?’ but considering where you were, the answer was pretty obvious.

You get up, looking at the EMT’s, then back at Marc confused.

He clarified for you. “They have to take you in the ambulance, it’s just procedure”

“Oh… can you come with me?”

He looked at the EMT’s and got his answer brushing your messy hair down. “‘fraid not, honey. But we’ll be in first thing visiting hours okay?”

You are suddenly very nervous, very tired, and very overwhelmed. You want to be asleep in your own bed, with Marc holding you. “Marc” You mumble, turning into him. “I wanna go home”

You hear Jake’s calm, assured voice. “I know, bebita. But I think this is what you need right now. We’ll get you the help you need, you just need to rest for a bit, okay? We’ll call your work, take care of everything.” He sounded to sure, you trusted your Jake.

You nod, too tired to fight it “Okay”

Marc held your hand as you sat on the stretcher, feeling ridiculous, but you had convinced them you didn’t need to be restrained, thank god. When you got to the ambulance, one got in the drivers seat and the other took a few steps back to allow you a moment. Marc held your head, his beautiful brown eyes shining at you as he tried to smile and hold back tears. “It’s gonna be alright. Do whatever they need you to do here, and you’ll be out in a few days, a brand new start, okay”

“You’re gonna visit me, right?”

Marc looked a little broken when he heard that. “Baby, of course we’re gonna visit, we’d never leave you alone like this, ever”

“It’s just… when I went in college… no one visited me, the whole time…”

He cradled you close to his chest, the EMT motioning they needed to get going. “That was before. You have us now, and you’ll never be alone.”

But riding in the ambulance, checking into the bright hospital, having the sympathetic nurse checking you for weapons or other injuries… you hadn’t felt so alone in a long time.

Marc was not thrilled about Steven insisting on the hospital. He had never liked hospitals much, and after his time in the duat, the thoughts he had of psychiatric hospitals weren’t great. Steven had to tell him again and again, the duat was not in a real psych ward, real psych wards aren’t like that. ‘Frankly mate, I’m not entirely sure psych ward is politically correct anymore’. Marc insisted they were all you needed, he didn’t want to leave you alone, and he certainly didn’t think these people knew better about taking care of you than he did, and he told you as such when he visited.

“Places like this are meant for people a lot worse off than you.” He grumbled, holding you on the bed you in a room you thankfully got alone.

Idiota, that’s not what you’re suppuosed to say!

Marc, please, places like this can help a lot of people, at least allow her to try.

“I’m sorry” You mumble, still tired from the previous night, where they had woken you up to take a blood sample and you had fallen back asleep with the needle in your arm. You start crying again, something you had done on and off all day.

Marc quickly realized his mistake, holding you tighter and turning you to him. “No, no baby I don’t mean it like that, it’s not a bother, it’s just… these places are for crazy people, like me”

Your eyes widen at that, face drastically changing to serious. “Marc, stop that, you know I don’t like you talking about yourself like that” You may be a mess, but you will not stand for your precious boyfriend to call himself names. “You are not crazy”

Marc wouldn’t let up. “If they heard me talking to Jake and Steven, they’d throw me in a straight jacket and toss me on that empty bed” He smiled, trying to joke.

“No” You shake your head. “Don’t talk like that, I mean it. Other people might think that, but that’s because they don’t get it. I know you, and I know Jake and Steven, and none of you are crazy, so please stop saying that.” You pleaded with him.

His face softened, kissing you on the forehead. “I’m sorry, I’ll stop.”

You nuzzle into his chest. “And straitjacket, Marc? What is this, American Horror Story: Asylum? I don’t think they use those anymore” But you’re smiling now.

“Of course, how silly of me.” He laid with you for a while, just to take you in. He missed you.

“It’s probably a good thing I’m here” You say quietly, and he looks at you again. “I’ve been thinking about doing it all day.”

When it was Steven’s turn, your favorite nurse printed out some free Star Wars coloring pages for you and Steven to color on.

“I feel like a child” You say, but you're secretly enjoying yourself.

“Healing your inner child, that’s what they say, innit?” Steven was very very carefully drawing Luke Skywalker on Dagobah.

“I don’t think it’s my inner child that needs healing, I think it’s my inner teen. I had a fun childhood, even if it was a bit crazy. I never really got to be a teen”

“Well love, if you want to be a crazy teenager, we can go drink vodka in a corn field if that will make you happy”

You laugh, remembering the stories your classmates would beguile you with on Monday mornings, wishing that was you. “Sounds good darling. I’ll call my friend next time we visit, she’ll be happy to let us live out my teenage dream on her farm.”

“Think she’ll let us have a quickie in her tractor?” Steven smiles cheekily at you.

“Steven!” You giggle, wondering if anyone heard you. “And the answer is gonna be no.” you lean to him over the table “but we don’t have to tell her”

Steven holds up his drawing "I'm making it for Marc, think he'll like it?"

You giggle, holding up yours "Oh my god baby, im making mine for Marc too!"

Jake laid on the bed with you, reading Carrie, she was just going batshit on the prom night. “Dios mio princessa” He checked the cover “This is what Steven packed you to read? You’re supposed to be relaxing.”

“Keep going!”

“I’ll bring you a new book tomorrow, something more appropriate” he grumbled, before finding the page again.

“Honey, most of my books are depressing YA John Green books, Steven King, or depressing adult books, none of them are fitting”

“The Handmaid’s Tale?”

“Literally about government sanctioned sex slaves”

“Count of Monte Christo?”

“Baby that books depressing as hell”

“The Fault in Our Stars?”

“Jake!” You laugh. “How can you even say that, I made you watch that movie with me!”

Jake rolled his eyes. “You know I feel asleep half way through”

“He dies in the end!”

“Can’t you just… read up until that part?”

You rest your head on Jake’s chest. “No, now read to me about the mass murder of a bunch of high schoolers to relax me”

You felt Jake chuckle, but he continued.

Due to covid regulations, visiting hours were shorter than usual, and they had to leave before diner time. “We’ll be back tomorrow, I promise. Same time.” Marc swore.

“And you’ll call tonight?”

“Of course. Make sure to call the numbers we gave you, if you’re feeling up to it.” Marc had been put in charge of letting your mom, brother, Layla, and a few close friends know. Everyone, unfortunately, lived in different parts of the county, but they wanted to talk during your stay so he wrote down the phone numbers if you wanted to call.

“Thank you, baby“ But you stayed wrapped around his chest. You couldn’t help but feel you were disappointing him still by being in here.

“Love, we have to go, you call us any time you want to talk, okay?” Steven assured you.

Slowly, you pull off of them. “Okay.”

You get a phone from the nurse and call him as soon as the door closes. An The Office marathon was on ABC, so Jake turned the channel on the home TV to ABC. You didn’t talk, simply laying the phone beside you as you watched, knowing they were there “watching” with you.

“I think my psychiatrist thinks I’m lazy” You say the next day as Marc rubs your back.

He pauses, looking at you, concerned. “What do you mean?”

“Baaaabbbeeeee don’t stop that”

Marc couldn’t help chuckle, continuing his back rub. “Okay, now continue”

“Well, the first morning here, it was like 9 when he woke me up and he said ‘you’re still asleep’ all judgy”

Frown deepening, Marc fought the urge to march up to the desk and cause a scene like a helicopter parent. “You got in there at, what, 4 am?”

You nod. “And he did it again this morning. I just said ‘Oh, I’m sorry, do I have somewhere to be?’”

Despite his annoyance with your psych, he laughed. “Good one, sweetheart”

You smile “not my best work. I’ll come up with something better in a few days and call back”

“I’ll help you brainstorm” Marc promised.

“We’ll get him good. Jake and Steven can help”

“Oooohhhh no. Jake’s version of help is murder, and Steven would emotionally devastate him so bad he’d never recover”

You laugh, and it feels good… You wait for a moment before speaking. “I’m diebetic”

He stops at that, and you whine, but it doesn’t work this time. He looks at you with worry. “What? Baby, sit up, please?”

You comply, sitting up to look at him, and you can help but feel like you messed up again. “I’m sorry”

“No” Marc moved in on the bed, taking you in for a comforting hug. “You didn’t do anything wrong”

“But I did” You start to cry, and jesus christ how much are you going to cry in these three days. “I got it because I eat too much-”

“No” Jake cuts in before you can finish. “You do not eat too much. Please, don’t go down this road, we just got you to a healthy place with food, please don’t undo all your progress”

You had put in a lot of work into recovering from your eating disorder, and you could tell they were worried this would make you spiral.

Still, you argue. “If I was better at having an eating disorder, I wouldn’t have this problem.”

Jake looked horrified. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“It mean I ate too fucking much Jake, if I had more control, I wouldn’t have!” You scoot away from him, annoyed at yourself. “Did I have an eating disroder or did I just eat too much?”

“Amor, bulimia is an eating disorder” He spoke carefully, but you were too angry at yourself to let him in.

“Don’t talk to me like I’m a child!”

“Then stop acting like one!”

A pregnant silence hangs in the air before you speak. “Get out.”

“No” Jake was firm.

“Go! I know you’re all mad at me anyway so just leave me here!”

His face softened, and you felt sick at his pity. “Mi vida… you think we’re mad at you?”

“Yes!” You all-but sob out.

Steven broke through. “Heavens, love, why would you ever think such a thing?”

“Because I woke you up and you guys need your sleep and I scared the shit out of Marc and now you have to deal with me and now you have to deal with a diabetic girlfriend and-”

Steven interrupted you with a hug that nearly knocked you over. He let you cry in his arms until you calmed down. “My darling, you scared all of us, but we’d rather be woken up every night than for you to have to deal with this alone, we swear. You aren’t a burdon, you aren’t a problem. I’m no doctor, I don’t know if your bulimia had an effect on your diabeties, but if it did, then that is a symptom of an illness you suffered for years.”

“My psych… he told me to lose 20 pounds and then sent me on my way…”

I’m going to fucking kill him

“Tell Jake he can’t kill him”

God dammit

“Darling” Steven pulled back to look at you. “It was not okay that he said that. He is a psychiatrist, not a dietitian or a nutritionist, and he is not your doctor. He shouldn’t say those things, especially given your history with eating disorders.”

“You don’t… you don’t think I need to lose weight?”

“No.” Marc said firmly. “We don’t. Let’s get you set up with a specialist and see what you need to do to manage this, but we’re not letting you fall back into bulimia if we can help it”

“Okay.” You flop back on the bed, becoming him to massage you again. ”I’m gonna have so many fucking appointments. A permanant psych” you glance up at Marc “One who isn’t that guy, and a therapist”

“That’s good, you’re getting the help you need.” Marc affirms.

You wait for a moment. “I thought… I thought you were against all this…”

Marc flops down on the bed beside you “Listen, I’m sorry if I was… unenthusatic. It’s hard for me to accept help, and sometimes I think I can just… if I love you enough and am there enough, I can fix everything”

Yo touch his pretty, stubbled face, you can tell he didn’t sleep much last night either. “You’re enough for me, enough for my love. My mind just needs a little extra help.”

“I just gotta… look at it different. The meds, the therapy, it’s not the enemy”

“It’s a sidekick” You smile at him.

He laughed. “Yeah, they can be or sidekick”

“I love you guys”

“And we love you”

You squeal, jumping into Jake’s arms as he came to pick you up the next day. “Jakey!!!”

He grinned at you, scooping you up. “Hola, muneca, como estas?”

“Bien!” You kiss him as he sets you down. “Y tu?”

“Bien, ahora que estoy contigo. Now, do you have everything?”

You open your backpack to double check. “Discharge papers, safety plan, prescription, appointments, doctors notes for work, grippy socks I get to keep, yup all here!”

Jake smiled, you seemed to be doing better. “And you finished the book?”

After the Carrie fiasco, Jake stopped by Barnes and Noble and picked up a copy of Jurassic Park for you too read.

“Yes! Can we watch Jurassic Park when we get home?”

Jake knew this would happen. You’d want to watch Jurassic Park. Again. You always made him put it on when you were drunk. On the plus side, Dr. Alan Grant would inevitably make you insanely horny.

“Of course we can. AFTER, we safety proof the apartment”

You groan, loudly. “We don’t actually have to do all that”

“We most definitely do.” Marc had been there with your social worker, promised to de-suicide the apartment, as you called it. No one thought you were funny. “No ropes-”

“How will you tie me up?”

“No razors-”

“How will I shave my asshole for you?”

“No belts-”

“But what will you whip me with”

“No- Cielos! I never whipped you!”

“Not for my lack of trying” You wink.

“Hostia, what am I going to do with you?”

You take his hand as you walk, Jake carrying your backpack. “Fuck me right and make me food”

“And drive you to therapy” He teases you, giving your hand a squeeze.

You nudge him “I was born to sit pretty in the passenger seat”

Jake gave you a tender kiss on the forehead. “And sit pretty you do”

You wave to your favorite nurse. “Bye, see you next time!”

The nurse was not thrilled.

Marc kissed rought your hand to his mouth, kissing the knuckles. “There’s my girl” Your hands were dry. You must not have gotten any lotion. You giggle, swinging his hand while you walked. “Are you feeling better, sweetheart?”

You turn to look at him, smiling softly. “I am, actually. Not perfect, but I think the break is what I needed.”

“How are the new meds?”

You shrug “Probably won't be able to tell for a while, on the anti-depressants. The anti-anxiety is great, haven't felt this relaxed in ages.”

“What was the other one?”

“Mood stabilizer. We’ll have to see on that one too.”

“Hm.” Marc opened the door for you, before letting Jake take over, since Marc hated driving.

You sit one the couch, eating your Taco Bell and drinking your McDonalds iced coffee. God you missed iced coffee. Jake grumbled the whole time at Taco Bell. He must really love you if he said the words “One mexican pizza, one crunch wrap supreme, and a baja blast, please” without dry heaving, and paid for it too.

“Missed one” You point at a belt thrown in the corner of the studio apartment, taking a massive bite of your mexican pizza.

“This would be a lot easier if you put your clothes away” Marc said, with no real malice.

You take a big ole sip of your iced coffee. “This would be a lot easier if you didn’t undress me and bend me over every surface of the apartment”

“How can you wash down fake mexican food with iced coffee? That’s disgusting”

“How can you eat my ass, that’s disgusting”

Marc paused, holding the belt he was gathering. He turned to you with a rare, wide grin on his mouth, lips curled up a bit. “God I’ve missed you”

You talk with your mouth full. “I’ve been gone three days”

“No… I mean…” He looked a little sad. “You’ve been here but not… here. God that doesn’t make sense.” Steven took over, better with words. “You were different. Like you had mentally checked out, were just going through the motions. We were really worried about you, darling.”

You put down your Mexican pizza, fighting the urge to take another giant bite but knowing this isn’t the time.

“I’m sorry”

Steven set down the items, and joined you on the couch. He was going to take your hand, but you were double fisting a baja blast and iced coffee. “Don’t be sorry. We’re not going to make you promise to come to us if you are feeling down, I know it can be hard just… just know we’d rather be woken up before you hurt yourself, okay? We’re always here for you. You aren't alone anymore.”

You leaned your head on his shoulder. “I know baby, I’ll try.”

Steven rested his head on yours and closed his eyes, taking in a peaceful, quiet moment for you.

Well, quiet until he heard the loud slurp of you finishing your pop.

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

A/N: I was hositalized summer of 2020. It was voluntary, and I didn't attempt yet. It had been a hard time as it was for everyone, im not special. I moved out of my grandparents basement and a week later lost both jobs to covid. My friend had already suggested I make a go bag (she had been hospitalized before). I got into a fight with my sister over BLM and her shit ass boyfriend, and that was the last straw. For various reasons, no one visited me in the hospital. My parents lived in another state (not that my dad would come anyway) my aunt who lived in town thought that visits were closed due to covid, and my grandparents in town absolutely could not leave the house since this was prevaccine. I texted my aunt to please let my mom know where i was going as I drove over there. she emmidetly called me and said she was on her way, and helped me check in. She picked me up when I got out and had me stay with her family for a few days to keep an extra eye out.

My uncle and little cousins all were so nice and sweet sharing their space, mom came and visited, as did my other aunt (my dad, interestingly, did not). At the psych ward i called a childhood bestie whose number i have memorized, and when i got out, another friend called me as soon as she heard. Had a lot of love an d support many don't have. but none of that is going to take away how lonely I felt in the psych ward. So i just wanted to write something to redue that expiernce.

Also, all the stuff the psych said to the reader in this, my psych said to me. yeah, just told me to lose 20 pounds and acted like i was wierd for sleepin in past 9. i deadass did ask him if i had somewhere to be. like wtf.

anyway, self indulgent as always. Hope you enjoy anyway.

taggging the usuals.

@howaboutcastiel @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @welcometostayingawake @in-between-the-cafes @lucianadraven32 @ninebluehearts @ahookedheroespureheart @jake-g-lockley

#marc spector #steven grant #jake lockley #marc spector reader #jake lockley reader #steven grant reader #angst #hurt comfort #Jake lockley hurt comfort #marc spector hurt comfort #steven grant hurt comfort

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starlight-writer · 2 years

Text

Moon Knight

Fluff: 🌸

Angst: 🥀

Violence: 💥

Steven

Comfort 🌸🥀 fem reader

You have a bad day, but never fear! Steven is here!

Museum 🌸 gn!reader

Steven has a little surprise for you

Marc

Read 🥀 gn!reader

Read 12:45

All

“My life” 🌸🥀 gn! reader

Calling the Moon Boys your life

“You’re So Pretty” 🌸🥀 gn! reader

You call the Moon Boys pretty

First Kiss 🌸🥀 gn! reader

Your first kiss with the boys

You Get Hurt 🌸🥀💥 gn!reader

You get hurt

Period Comfort 🌸 afab gn! reader

The boys comfort you while you're on your period

Tummy 🌸🥀 gn!reader

Their reaction to growing a tummy

Magic 🌸 gn!reader

Steven knows magic, but what do Marc and Jake know?

Honk 🌸 gn!reader

You honk the Moon Boys

Divorce 🥀 gn!reader

You divorce the Moon Boys

Divorce pt. 2

You explain why you left (part 1)

Divorce pt. 3

You explain why you left (part 2)

Proposal 🌸

You both propose to each other

Random Cuddles 🌸

Randomly cuddling them

Fighting gn!reader 🥀🌸(?)

How they act during a fight

WIP

Medication

They Hurt You

Soulmates

#starlight writing #Moon Knight #marvel #marc spector #marc spector x gn!reader #marc spector x reader #Steven Grant #steven grant x GN!reader #steven grant x reader #jake lockley #jake lockley x gn!reader #jake lockley x reader #angst #fluff #hurt/comfort #wip

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bensolosbluesaber · 2 years

Text

Someone Like You: Part 2 (Marc Spector, Steven Grant, and Jake Lockley x Avengers f!reader)

Summary: Sure, you might have escaped with everyone alive, but the aftermath of using your powers is less than pleasant. And why is Marc Spector the one taking care of you? ~3,500 words (Part 1)

Angst, Hurt/Comfort

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, mentions of childhood trauma/abuse, disassociation and nightmares, not edited very well

Bruce passes Marc a glass of water, and he takes it in a shaky hand. The two men could be considered friends. Bruce could sympathize with Marc’s trauma - the little that Marc had shared, and Bruce understood DID in a way that none of the other Avengers could. Marc gives Bruce a tight smile then turns to Nat who has been explaining the situation.

“You sent her into my head,” Marc interrupts accusingly.

“It’s what had to be done,” Nat answers simply. Her tone leaves no room for argument.

Marc glares for a long moment then nods slowly. She is right. He doesn’t like it, but it’s true. Getting out had been nearly impossible even with your help.

“Ask if she’s alright,” Steven insists from the head space.

Marc’s hand tenses around the glass.

“Where is she?” He says instead.

Nat glances back at the other Avengers. Sam tilts his head, pondering something, and then nods. Bucky huffs with displeasure but doesn’t argue. All of the others already know about what you unaffectionately call the aftershocks.

“She’s dealing with the aftermath of a mind walk,” Nat explains.

“Which is?” Marc asks before Steven can butt in and do it himself.

Nat looks to Bruce for a more scientific explanation.

“It’ll be worse because she just mind walked yesterday,” Sam adds. “Sometimes we sit with her. Most times she wants left alone.”

“Her consciousness was inside yours, right? But at the same time, your consciousness was seeping into hers. Think of it like a sponge in a bucket of water. She’s the sponge. You’re the water,” Bruce explains. He was the one who had initially studied your brain to figure out what caused such dramatic aftershocks. His words are scientific and detached, not for lack of empathy but for excess of it. “Your consciousness needs to work out of hers. The sponge being squeezed. Unfortunately, she can’t really control it. She’ll see the worst memories of the person she mind walked into. They play through her head for a few hours like nightmares. Sometimes more of a dissociation. It’s... difficult.”

But Marc wasn’t listening anymore.

“She’s seeing my worst memories?” He whispers.

“Marc, this isn’t fun for her. She wasn’t trying to invade your privacy,” Natasha says, misinterpreting Marc’s concern as being for himself.

“She is seeing my worst memories?”

“Yes, but she-“

“Is someone with her? Right now, who is with her?” Marc jumps out of bed, ignoring Bruce’s protest.

“She wanted to be alone,” Bucky replies.

“You let her be alone!? While she is seeing my worst memories? Fuck!” Marc glares at him, and pushes past everyone and out of the room without another word.

He hurries down the hallway, the others close behind and calling after him until he busts through the door to the room he knows is yours.

“Oh fuck,” Bucky breathes when he sees you.

But it is Marc who is at your side first. Your eyes are wide and clouded and staring blankly at the door in complete disassociation. The chill of the room makes your skin prickle with goosebumps, and the occasional shiver runs across your otherwise still body. Disturbingly still. Your cheeks are wet with tears that are still flowing freely, and that’s unnerving in it’s own way. Your face is emotionless and empty, and yet you are openly crying.

Normally you would wrap yourself in a heavy blanket and hug some sort of stuffed animal. You would make sure your eyes were shut. You would find a comfortable position. You’ve done none of those things, so the Avengers know the aftershocks must have come over you suddenly.

Marc kneels beside your bed and smooths a rough hand over your cheek. No response. He thumbs a tear away, and looks back at the others. His brown eyes are wide and worried.

“I’ll stay,” Sam offers. “Buck did it last time.”

“I will.”

The four other Avengers all turn to Marc at the some time. They are not even bothering to hide their shock.

“You hate her?” Bucky states, although it’s more of a question.

“No he doesn’t.” Nat lets a small smile tug at her lips as Marc’s actions confirm what she has suspected for a long time.

“No, I don’t,” Marc confirms. “I’ve got her. My fucked up mind, my responsibility.”

“If you sit in bed with her, she can sort of sense a presence. If she feels safe, she might hold your hand. It’s not because she’s awake, just some subconscious thing,” Nat explains.

“Make sure she’s warm,” Sam adds and fixes Marc with a firm stare.

Nat guides the others out of room, giving Marc a last little sad grin on the way out. The door clicks shut.

Marc can’t tear his eyes away from you. You’d gone into his head, knowing this would happen, knowing that you’d see the worst parts of his life. None of the Avengers knew much about him, but they knew about his DID. You were smart enough to know what type of traumas caused that condition, the things you might see.

And you had been worried about him feeling violated.

A shiver makes you curl in on yourself, eyes sliding shut as you whimper so softly Marc barely hears.

“Get in the bed,” Jake mutters, and even his words are tinged with concern. “We’re warm.”

Marc looks down, realizing for the first time that someone had changed him into sweats and a t shirt. He hesitates for only a second before grabbing a blanket and sitting beside you. He leaves a few inches of space between your bodies and carefully drapes the blanket over you.

Your shivers diminish but don’t subside entirely as you grasp the blanket and draw it closer. Marc whispers your name, thinking you might be awake. No response. He stretches his legs out and watches while he takes calming breathes, not wanting to force Steven or Jake to the front unexpectedly.

What are you seeing now? What terror of his past are you being subjected to?

The cave is damp and cold, and even as the memory guides you into the cramped space after two little boys, you know what is going to happen. The water is icy cold as it rises around your feet, getting higher and higher as the screams get louder and echo back on themselves in an overwhelming cacophony of sound.

You want to scream, to escape, but you are as trapped and helpless as the boys, as Marc.

A warmth fills the space next to you. It’s unexpected and a sharp contrast to the cold water. It feels calmer, and part of your mind realizes it’s something in the real world even if you aren’t consciously aware of that fact. After a long pause you reach for the warmth, gravitating to the comforting feeling of the presence even as your mind pulls you violently into another memory.

Marc startles as your head falls on his thigh. A moment later your arm wraps around his waist. Without thinking, he smooths a hand over your hair and secures the blanket around your shoulders. He looks down at your face that is turned toward him, eyes shut, but there is no recognition of where you are or who you are with.

“Now you have to tell her we like her,” Steven tries to cut Marc’s nervous tension with some humor.

“Oh, it’s ‘we’ now?” Jake joins in on the gentle ribbing. “I didn’t realize I was pining uselessly too.”

Marc can find no humor as he feels your tears soaking through his pants.

“Doesn’t matter now,” he replies into the head space, using a harsh tone that silences the other alters. “She’s seen in our head. No one in their right mind wants within five feet of that mess.”

Marc tilts his head back and slams his eyes shut as he draws in a trembling breath. His throat hurts with the effort of holding back tears. He never wanted you to see these terrible parts of himself, so he had avoided you despite his attraction. All that time pretending to hate you had amounted to nothing.

Every so often you whimper and cuddle closer, nuzzling your cheek against his thigh and pressing your forehead against his stomach. You should have left him there in that prison of his own mind. If you had, you wouldn’t be suffering like this now.

Your skin is soft under his touch as he runs his fingers over your bare arm. He holds you like that for hours, sometime fixing the blanket. It’s not moving, but he does it anyway as a sort of nervous tick.

“Marc,” Steven interrupts that series of self-destructive thoughts with a gentle voice. “Easy, mate. You’re pulling me forward.”

“Sorry,” Marc apologizes quickly and swipes at his cheeks. Now he was crying too.

“S’okay,” Steven replies. “You shouldn’t think stuff like that though.”

Right as Marc is forming a reply, you jerk awake and pull back from whoever it is you’re laying on. Bucky, probably. He’s always warm and comforting.

After a long moment of composing yourself, you drop your hands to look up at Bucky.

Instantly you bury your face in your hands, swiping tears from your cheeks as your mind reels from the memories you had just witnessed. Over the years, you had become quite adept at not giving people ‘that look’ - the pitying and condescending look people give others after hearing about their past. But how the hell were you going to look at Marc now?

It’s not Bucky. No, it’s not Bucky at all. It’s Marc. You are stunned into silence for a few seconds, and the only emotion on your face has to be shock because Marc Spector - who hated you more than anyone ever had - just sat with you through your aftershocks. Marc Spector had let you cuddle up against him.

You draw the blanket closer. It is freezing in the room.

“I won’t tell anyone,” you assure him quickly in a voice tinged with sadness. That must be why he is here. Nat or maybe Bruce explained everything, and he’s afraid that you will tell the other Avengers about his past.

“I didn’t mean to see all that,” you continue when he says nothing. “I can’t help them, I swear. But I don’t tell people what I see in the aftershocks… ever. So, uh,” you stumble over your words as he continues to stare at you. “You don’t ever have to hear from me again. You can go.”

When he doesn’t, you turn and roll out of bed. Your bed. Your bed that Marc is in. The second you go to stand your knees buckle, and you crash to the ground

Now you’ve seen the worst parts of Marc’s life - of the system’s life - laid bare in front of you, and your emotions that should be numb to such things are as sensitive as exposed nerves. You are barely holding yourself together, and you certainly aren’t stable enough to maintain an authoritative tone to get control of this situation. Instead you are stumbling over your words and practically begging Marc to go.

Before you can register the pain of the fall, Marc jumps out of bed and is holding you around the waist and pulling you up. You grasp his shirt and in a wildly self-destructive moment press your head into the curve of his neck, breathing in his scent, letting his warmth calm you until you are steady enough to step back on your own.

“You’re cold,” you mutter, noting the goosebumps on his skin again. You pass your blanket over to him. “Here.”

He could never deserve someone like you. You can barely stand, are clearly on the verge of tears, and definitely cold yourself, and yet you are giving him your blanket without a second thought. You are worrying about what he needs instead of taking care of yourself. You’re too good for him.

“Stop that,” Jake growls from far back in the head space. “Help her if you’re so worried.”

“Easy on him, Jake.” Steven agrees with Jake, but he would have said it in a nicer way.

“What do you do now?” Marc still has his hands out in case you fall again, one holding the blanket.

“Eat. Drink water. Go back to bed,” you murmur and walk slowly past the attractive man without looking up. “I’m not going to tell anyone, Marc. You don’t have to be nice. This isn’t blackmail.”

He follows you all the way to the kitchen, abandoning the blanket on the bed. Marc stands with his arms crossed while he watches you dig through the fridge. Eventually you produce a Tupperware of soup (Thor has been experimenting with cooking since becoming a father) and pop it into the microwave.

Five seconds. That’s all the time you give yourself to school your expression into something that doesn’t reek of pity and turn to look at Marc. Three. Two. You watch the green lights tick down the seconds. One.

Marc speaks first, which is good because you had no idea what you were going to say.

“I’m sorry you had to see that.”

A beat. People didn’t usually acknowledge what you might have seen. On the rare occasions you mind walked into someone you knew, both of you pretended the aftershocks never happened. This acknowledgment is… refreshing.

“I’m sorry you had to live it.”

Marc takes a glass from the cabinet and fills it with water. He hands it to you then gets his own. Steven and Jake have gone, leaving him alone with you as you watch the microwave work and drink your water.

“Thanks for coming in after me,” he finally says. That’s the best way he knows how to concede that you were right about them needing help. “You knew the after-whatever would happen, and you did it anyway. So… thanks.”

The microwave beeps and you take out the soup.

“Aftershocks,” you correct.

“Pedantic-” He hesitates, meaning to make a joke but remembering his earlier use of the same word.

“Bitch?” You offer, a bit sadly. The insult still stings because you still like him. He’s an ass, but you still like him.

He looks down, suitably chastised, and even though you think he deserves it, you can’t help but feel a little bit bad. And confused. You aren’t sure what is going on, just that this is the longest real life conversation you have ever had with any part of the Moon Knight system. That and you’d woken up cuddling with Marc, who apparently your subconscious considered safe enough to cuddle with.

You can feels his eyes on you as you scarf down the whole container. Thor really had gotten good at cooking. The empty container gets abandoned in the sink. You’ll take care of it tomorrow.

Right now you have a round of nightmares to work through. That was the last part of the aftershocks- besides the days of exhaustion. Technically the nightmares weren’t caused by your powers. It was just the brain’s natural response to seeing traumatic events, part of your mind processing the aftershocks into your memory. Sometimes you didn’t even have nightmares. Sometimes they lasted for days.

You had a sickening feeling you had quite a few restless nights coming.

“’Night Marc.” You raise your glass to him in a mock salute, trying to ignore how good he looks in the moon’s glow, the only source of light in the kitchen.

“Wait!”

You’re already to your room, and you freeze, hand on the door, and turn to see him running down the hall.

“What did you see?” He stops right in front of you.

“Marc, I-” What can you possibly say that will convince him you won’t tell anyone? You don’t want his fake niceties or insincere gratitude. You don’t want him living in fear that you’ll out his traumatic childhood.

You look down and away from those big sad brown eyes. Then his hand settles hesitantly on your cheek and turns your head up.

“I don’t care if you tell people,” he starts, and his gaze captures your own. “I care if you’re alright, and if you saw even half of my worst memories then you’re not. You were in my head, and it’s a fucking mess in there. My mind is broken.”

He says the final word just as you whisper, “Beautiful.”

“What?” It’s raw confusion in his voice as he drops his hand and genuinely believes he misheard you.

“Your mind is beautiful.” You swallow hard, still holding that eye contact that makes you feel naked. “Whoever told you otherwise is wrong.”

There’s a brief moment where Marc’s cynicism wants to control his reaction, but as he studies your face, he can find no lie. His mouth moves, but no words come out.

“I’ve been in a lot of minds,” you continue, suddenly feeling nervous, almost like you’re about to confess your feelings to a crush. “I’ve never seen any as elaborate as yours. Most people are just empty voids with some strange and inefficient filing system, but yours was like a whole world.” The words are coming faster now, and you can’t stop them. “And you’re strong. I always have control on my mind walks. I don’t get hurt, but I was bleeding. I had no control” Maybe you are doing the superhero equivalent of confessing feelings. “Your mind is incredible, Marc, and I’m so sorry for the things you went through that made it that way. But it’s not broken for creating what and who you needed to survive-”

Marc’s lips are warm. His lips are warm, and you know that because he is kissing you, cutting off your awestruck confession with a kiss so passionate you forget how to breathe. He covers your whole mouth with his, slipping his tongue into the kiss in a way that you would consider disgusting if it were anyone else. One of his rough hands is on your cheek, the other cages the back of your head, keeping you close and creating a barrier between your skull and the wall Marc pushes you into.

His whole body presses against you, and only then do you realize you’ve been kissing him back with just as much passion as he’s giving you.

When he finally pulls away, it’s only because even superheroes need to breathe. Marc’s forehead falls against yours as he takes an unsteady breath. Then another. His fingers are drawing small circles against your skin, a motion he doesn’t notice.

You look at his face- the red flush of his cheeks in the dim light, the small part of his lips, the broad swath of his nose that bumps against your own, those beautiful wide brown eyes that you want to melt into.

A potential love interest. That’s what Steven had said, and now you have time to really consider the implications of a comment you had been too busy to deal with earlier.

“Marc Spector,” you whisper his name like you’re saying a prayer. “You pretended to hate me to protect me from seeing inside your head, but all this time… all this time you had feelings?”

Marc feels the self-doubt creeping in.

“I’m gonna tell you right now, hermano,” Jake can hear Marc’s thoughts, knows what he’s about to say. “You say a thing about not being good enough for her, and I’m going to take the body and put our head through that wall.”

“Bloody hell, Jake! Don’t do- never mind. Alright look, Marc, it’s not up to us to decide if we’re good enough for her, it’s up to her. She clearly likes you, so… you know... keep doing what you’re doing.”

“Marc?” You bring your hands to his face. He has a shadow of stubble that is rough to the touch.

“Bruce said you might have nightmares. I’ll stay with you. If you want.”

It’s not a straight answer to your question, but it is definitely an answer. And it’s the answer you wanted. Marc likes you.

“You can stay, but they can get kinda bad.” You try to offer him an out, not wanting to scare him off when you wake up sobbing about a memory from his childhood. “I know you’re tired too.”

He’s having none of it as he shakes his head and pushes open your door, letting you lead the way inside. You change in your bathroom, brush your teeth quickly, and leave a spare toothbrush out for Marc. While he’s in the bathroom, you tuck yourself into bed feeling strangely nervous at the prospect of sleeping beside someone who was more than a platonic friend. It had been a long time since you’d done that.

You’re staring up at the ceiling when Marc crawls under the covers and turns out the light. He lays on his back too and feels for your hand to lace your fingers together.

“Can I- can I lay on you?”

A low chuckle rumbles in his chest as he drops your hand and opens his arms to you instead. You scoot closer and rest your head on chest, tossing an arm over his midsection, and pressing yourself close. He smooths circles across your back with his one hand and with the other toys with your fingers splayed across his ribs.

“Marc?”

“Hm?”

“I might have understated earlier.” Your voice shakes. Already your body is anticipating the nightmares, pumping anxiety inducing adrenaline through your system and making you tremble. “The nightmares are gonna be really bad, so you can leave if I keep you up.”

Marc leans forward to kiss the top of your head, a contact that is remarkably intimate. “I promise, I’m not going anywhere. I’m kind of an expert at sleepless nights.”

My Masterlist

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galadoesart · 2 years

Text

Period Comfort | Preferences - Moon Knight

Summary: Moon Boys gave you comfort and help you around when you’re in period.

Pairing/s: Marc Spector x F! Reader / Steven Grant F! Reader / Jake Lockley x F! Reader Word count: 6k+ Warning/s: None, except fluff and a bit of sexual innuendo for Jake’s part (only if you squint) / hurt / comfort

A/N: I have nothing else to say except I love them so much. I don’t have enough knowledge of DID, my only source is from the tv series itself and if I portrayed DID incorrect, please let know. Feedbacks / coffee are very much appreciated! I hope you guys are doing well, have fun reading! xoxo.

~~~

Marc Spector He knew what month would be next about your period, in fact, he have this period tracker installed on his phone. When you found this out by yourself, you keep teasing him about it that maybe he’s the one who’s having a period. Of course, after that, he didn’t uninstall it, even though there are times that he might be late to know that it’s your “time of the month” he never failed to buy your needs.

Groaning from the sudden pain in your lower abdomen, you decided to get up from the bed and headed straight to the bathroom. Of course, Marc noticed your sudden movements, checking his period tracker on his phone he realized that it was indeed your time of the month.

He then quickly grab your towel, pads, and your comfy clothes and a chair so he can wait patiently to you outside of the bathroom. Little did you know, Khonshu is reminding Marc your boyfriend that he got a mission for him. “Seriously, right now?” “Well? I’ll call Taweret if she needs help.” “No, she needed me so I’ll pass.” The god huff in annoyance and take his leave. “Babe?” “Hm? Oh – sorry, it’s just that-” “Khonshu?” “Yeah, but no worries I’ll stay.”

After Marc gave you the things that you need, he then decided to prepare something for your breakfast. Steven is actually insisting to help him out but Marc is a stubborn one who wants to prepare things for you, in the end, he , let Steven do the work out of sheer panic (just a bit, don’t worry).

However you heard the ruckus in the kitchen, but the boys are quick who’s to front. “Steven?” “No - I mean, he just went back to our headspace.” You sit in the dining area while he gives you oatmeal, there a mixed nuts on top with few a strawberries and you smiled at his actions. Mumbling ‘thank you, babe’ you started eating breakfast.

We can all agree that deep inside Marc Spector is a big softie deep inside, making sure you got what you needed, eat at least two or three meals if you’re not feeling well because of the cramps he will most likely to offer some painkillers, and a heating pad.

Since he’s not good with affirmations, instead of letting Steven front he asks what words he has to avoid while on your period, to help you out mentally and emotionally of course.

Steven Grant You suddenly stirred awake, not because of Steven whose currently cuddling you but the sudden sharp pain from your lower abdomen. ‘Time of the month huh’ You thought to yourself, moving Steven’s arms from your waist trying not to wake him up you get out of bed slowly.

Immediately check the bedsheet if there’s bloodstain and thankfully there’s none. There were also visible stains in your undergarments but nothing too much to worry about, so you take a shower and put on some comfortable clothes.

However as you came out of the bathroom, you found Steven sitting on the edge of the bed. “You’re early, love?” He yawns while he stands up and walks over in your direction. “You look pale… What happened?” cupping your cheeks gently with his large hands, he put one hand to your forehead to check if by chance you have a fever you chuckle at his actions but seconds later your expression went into a painful one “I’m on my period…” You hissed in pain, you don’t remember being this awful on your first day, and of course, Steven is worried.

Since Steven never had a woman before he’s asking Marc for hygienic products that you needed, in a way that you won’t be annoyed.

He makes sure that there are enough snacks for you in the pantry, or if you ran out he will storm out and buy whatever you need.

He’s so attentive by the way, trying to remember all the foods that you want during your period, he makes sure that there are enough snacks for you in the cupboard or anywhere near you when you’re resting.

Whenever Steven is at work, he always tries his best to call you whenever he’s on break asking how are you holding up with your period, or what dinner and desserts you want so he can buy you when he comes home.

Jake Lockley The pain in your lower stomach wakens from your slumber, sadly Jake wasn’t around for you to snuggle over or help to ease your pain apparently he’s on a mission with Khonshu. You’re not sure when will Jake go home and as much as you want to stay in bed, curl and probably cry from the pain that you’re having, you decided to finally get up and clean yourself up.

You noticed that there were a small stain on the bedsheet so you decided to run in to the washing machine as you get yourself cleaned up. Usually, when Jake wasn’t around, you use his shampoo and soap, at least even from his scent you feel safe that he’s with you.

While having a relaxing shower, you didn’t notice that Jake finally comes home. His first instinct was to find and greet you with a good morning kiss but – “Princesa? I’m home!” When he found you coming out from the bathroom he dropped his duffle bag and immediately runs towards at you. He chuckle when he smelled you – exactly as him. “What’s the occasion princesa?” You hissed in sudden pain from your lower abdomen. “I’m not in the mood, okay?” You rolled your eyes, clearly irritated – looking back at his face it’s clearly that he got hurt from your remarks, a pang of guilt rush through you “I – look, I’m sorry papi - .” “Shh… It’s fine, you’re in your period. Do you want anything princesa?” Instead of answering Jake’s question, you embrace him.

Like Steven, he’s also cluless what’s going on with you and of course Marc with his past relationship with Layla he explained it carefully. He took note of what hygienic products that you often used when you’re in period.

Since he just came home from his mission, he’ll try his best to give everything you need. Especially in terms of food, whenever Jake got a chance he would cook anything that you want to eat and he will.

If he caught you on your phone trying to order something he would go full mode chef – “Princesa what did I told you? You could’ve just ask!” “I don’t want to bother you papi, plus you should be resting too -” “Princesa you are never a bother” He looks at you lovingly while he kissed your forehead “Just ask away what you need okay?”

There are some instances that he had to leave again because of his mission so he make sure that you have enough of snacks that you need in a pantry, just like Marc and Steven he tries his best to make phone calls whenever he’s away making sure that you’re doing okay.

#moon knight #moon knight fluff #moon knight fic #marc spector x reader #steven grant x reader #jake lockley x reader #oscar isaac #Hurt comfort fic #mcu moon knight #headcanon #my fiction #please don't steal #feel free to reblog #okay? love you guys #writers of tumblr #mk system #x reader

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trickster-jpeg · 4 months

Text

I Haven't Slept In Days, But Who's Counting.

This is a sequel to another oneshot, so it'll make more sense context-wise if you read that first -> Here

Summary: Steven's tries to carry on hiding his nightmares from Marc and Jake, but after a particularly rough night Marc finds out and tells Jake. The pair confront him and have to comfort him after he breaks down.

Warnings: Nothing major. Brief descriptions of child abuse when Steven talks about one of the nightmares.

Word Count: 8524 It's On AO3 -> Here

A/N: 'Ricitos' is a petname that means 'curly hair', and 'Manitos' means something akin to 'little brother'.

“Steven- I just really think you should tell them. They would want to know, they would want to help you. If anyone can understand what you’re going through, it’s them.”

A few days had passed since ‘the incident’ as Steven was choosing to call it and, despite the continuing insomnia, things were going as well as they could be. Layla had offered to stay a few more days to keep him company, but he knew that there were things she needed to do and being on nightmare watch wasn’t one of them, so he declined. She’d been amazing the past few days, more amazing than she usually was, and as per usual she was like a rock for him to lean on for support which he was extremely grateful for. Regardless of how stupid he thought it might’ve been, she’d listened to whatever he had to say, and when he’d wanted to stay quiet she’d sit with him through that as well. The pair had gone out to spend their last few full days together just wandering around, visiting little cafes and book shops, taking walks for the fresh air. Just spending a moment to simply exist without the threat of the world collapsing around them, real or imagined.

Marc had been out at times as well, just to do his own thing and spend his own time with Layla. It was tricky for the pair at times, given their history, especially at the start once everything had been put on the table. When they'd had a moment to talk about the disorder honestly. But the pair were working or rebuilding things better than they had been, and made new room for Jake and Steven to be included as well if they wanted. Jake still wasn’t fully used to fronting the same way the others were, or for the same lengths of time, so he didn’t appear much. Especially when there wasn’t really anything to do. But after some encouragement from the three, he’d found a new motivation to spend time out and trying to relax after he’d started to realise he wasn’t being subjected to his typical nightmares. Steven had made Layla promise not to tell his headmates.

Which led him back to his predicament.

Telling the other two about his nightmares. It’s not that he didn’t want to, it was just… Maybe that’s exactly what it was in all honesty. How was he supposed to bring it up anyway? “Marc! Jake! Just the people I've been trying to subtly avoid, but you’ve probably noticed that by now. It’s aces that your nightmares have suddenly started to dip in frequency, genuinely so glad that you’re able to have a peaceful nights rest, but that’s actually because they’ve just passed over to me! Surprise!” He’d rather be shot in a pyramid and stuffed into a bloody sarcophagus. Again. But he knew it was only a matter of time before they found out somehow. Which is why he wanted to be the one to tell them.

They’d been trying to work on their communication. Trying to lower the daily amnesia barriers, get more fluid with switching and have more control over it, being able to sit down and talk as a trio. Steven had been doing more research on DID whenever he had the chance. Found it really quite interesting if he was honest, despite not being the biggest psychology buff, but he also had a tendency to fixate and overload himself with the information and that tended to trigger some doubt in him about the whole thing. Something he read was completely normal for people like him- them- but it was still frustrating to have to stagger his questions just so he could safely process basic information.

One thing in particular caught his eye during the deep dives though. Innerworlds. He read about how they were this visualisation thing, like the mind palace in Sherlock. That they could help to provide a space for communication, like properly interacting with each other in a way that wasn’t just staring into a mirror and hoping someone responded with the reflection. It had taken a while to work on actually putting the concept into practice, to actually try and visualise it in a way that didn’t make them feel like they were just daydreaming, but they’d done it. Slowly but surely, they’d started to make it work. Their innerworld was nothing fancy, at least not for now. In a way, they found it somewhat easier to simply have a replica of their flat as a hub of safety, or a meeting place to be used when needed. And Steven had reluctantly deduced that this was one of the times it was necessary to use it as a meeting place.

It would take him a while to gather up the nerve to start the conversation. Overthinking was a special talent of Steven’s and he could spend years trying to plan every single possibility. To sit down and focus, the build up to opening up to the people he always told shouldn’t feel ashamed to talk about their troubles. It really was easier said than done when none of them had really been properly taught how they were supposed to do that, but Steven tried to think of it as a learning experience. He could lead by example. Maybe. Hopefully.

However, like many things in their life, the choice was ultimately made for Steven and left him a complete lack of control over the circumstances that led up to the others finding out.

It had been a week since Layla had left their flat. A week of being alone in the empty darkness of his room. A week of looping audiobooks and fidgeting with rubik's cubes and leaning over books under a lamp only to pass out on the desk after succumbing to sleep’s cruel lullaby. He’d been coping as well as he could. Sometimes staying on the phone with Layla until he felt safe enough to sleep again. Or at least until he pretended to because he didn’t want to keep her up anymore than he’d already been doing. Eventually it had to come to a close. It always did. And this time it really was Steven’s fault.

As a rule, Steven tended to avoid drinking. Never really saw much of an appeal apart from some of the ones that tasted nice. He didn’t like the loss of control. Something about it just made him extremely uncomfortable, not that he understood why until he’d found out about their mum’s drinking habits. But he knew Marc drank, albeit sometimes unhealthily, and so eventually he concluded that they’d have the same type of tolerance given the fact that it was the same body. He was still getting used to it, finding it easier to just continue avoiding the substance without any qualms, but occasionally he’d partake.

This was one of those nights. He knew it wasn’t exactly the healthiest of ideas to start drinking with the intent of using it to get him to sleep, but it would just be a one time thing. Honestly. He just wanted to see if it would do anything. If it would help ease him into the action without hours of anxiety spirals to keep him awake. So, he picked up the bottle of hard liquor that he knew Marc had stashed in the back of one of the cupboards in the kitchen and took a large mouthful of it.

His immediate reaction was repulsion, the instant impulse to try and spit out the liquid that felt like it was numbing his tongue, but he powered through it and swallowed hard. The burning sensation that scraped down his throat was strong enough to cause his eyes to water almost immediately afterwards and he jolted forward to grab a half empty glass of water that had been left out on the kitchen top. He felt the alcohol settle heavily in his stomach, an empty feeling that made him realise he had forgotten to eat anything that wasn’t a small snack or two throughout the day.

Overall, it was an unpleasant experience that he would rather not repeat or continue doing. But the distraction of the alcohol scratching at his throat would probably be enough to draw his focus away from the anxiety his nightmares caused, which is why he made the great decision to take another few large mouthfuls from the bottle before setting it down and flopping into bed. Enough to make a small, yet notable difference in the contents of the bottle. He grimaced and coughed as the liquid burned down his throat again, pulling a slightly disgusted face as he realised he could smell it quite intensely on his breath.

After about ten to fifteen minutes of lying in bed, waiting for the pain to dull down slightly, he started to feel somewhat dizzy. Like a mild vertigo, almost like dissociating in a way. In an attempt to settle the feeling slightly, he closed his eyes and tried to slow his breathing, counting the beats between each inhale and exhale like sheep. His mind started to drift as he focused on the waviness of it all, the floating sensation creeping into his brain as he felt himself lean deeper into the mattress. Gradually, he stopped being aware of his behaviour, his thoughts, the waking world. Apparently a mixture of sleep deprivation, alcohol, and lack of food made a great recipe for sleep.

From Marc’s detailed experiences of drinking and sleeping, alcohol made dreams more vivid. It also made them way more memorable when he woke up from them. And usually, it was more likely to be nightmares than dreams when alcohol had a part to play in the events leading up to sleep. Sometimes it would be more trauma-centric nightmares, but usually 3.5 out of 5 times it was some random bullshit nightmare that most of the general population gets. Something mundane like accidentally yanking his teeth out and swallowing them or something. The point was, it was fairly easy to tell when a dream was influenced by alcohol or if it was just a typical, regular dream. Which is why he was so disoriented when he woke up with sweat soaking their bedsheets and his chest heaving painfully as he tried to draw in the breaths he didn’t even know he was lacking.

He tasted the liquor he’d bought himself, coating his mouth and mixing with the flood of saliva as he jolted to grab the bin they kept beside their bed to heave into, watching as the majority of his stomach contents turned out to be the alcohol. A sight not quite shocking to him, borderline familiar with the amount of times it happened to him in the past, but still confusing. Confusing because he could’ve sworn he hadn’t had anything to drink. That he hadn’t fronted for pretty much the entire day so unless he’d had a full blackout of his own memories, he hadn’t touched the bottle. And he knew that Jake hadn’t been the one to drink it either, simply because he knew that the man hated his choice of liquor and wouldn’t voluntarily drink it unless he was forced to, and even then he’d have tried to buy some before falling back on Marc’s stash. Which just left one other person to blame. Steven.

Why the hell would Steven be drinking? He hates drinking. Or at least hates drinking this stuff.

As Marc continued to retch into the bin, a worry started to overshadow the initial confusion he was feeling. It didn’t make any sense. The man never went out of his way to buy or drink, and when he did he always went for the softest stuff. The stuff that barely tasted like alcohol, just fruit or sugar. He’d made it clear time and time again that he’d hated the feeling of it, hated the taste, hated the aftermath. Hated everything about it. Which is why Marc just couldn’t understand why Steven would feel the need to drink so much of this stuff. Surely the Brit would’ve tried to speak to Marc or Jake if there was something going on, right?

Suddenly feeling unsure about his headmate’s transparency, he started to try and remember any signs in the past few weeks that something was wrong with Steven. Briefly, he got glimpses of the man falling back into his old habits of trying to avoid sleep. Of not eating as much as he usually would, or leaving the house as often as he did. Of watching their phone and waiting silently for it to stop ringing and for the familiar contact of Layla to disappear from the screen. Then he thought about last week. Something recent came to mind. Something hazy. They were sitting on the floor. Reading something- No. Being read to. Marc didn’t understand the words but he knew the voice speaking them. Felt the panic dying down as Steven realised who it was as well.

He needed to call Layla.

Without looking, he reached over to the side table to grab at the phone he knew would be there with one hand as he placed the bin in the other hand now that he was confident there was nothing left for him to throw up. The bright light from the screen blinded him for a moment as he scrambled to turn down the brightness, cursing the Brit quietly for his adamance at having the setting so high all the time. After a moment of letting his eyes readjust to the sight of it, he opened his contacts and hit the dial button over his wife’s name. A moment of regret and remorse flickered in his chest as he looked up at the time on the top of his screen reading ‘02:38’. Maybe he should’ve waited until the morning to figure this out rather than disturbing her sleep and waking her up at this time for such a petty reason-

“Hello? Steven? Marc?... Jake?”

A wave of familiarity washed over him as he heard her tiredly croak out a response over the line, clearly having just been woken up by the phone. He hesitated for a moment before realising he should probably start speaking.

“Hey, it’s me- Marc-”

“I may have just woken up but I can still tell that it’s your voice, Marc. You don’t have to tell me. We’ve been married for about ten years.”

He pauses awkwardly, mentally kicking himself for his stupid attempt at trying to help her as though she hadn’t spent a decade waking up to hearing his voice. Clearing his throat, still raw from the alcohol going in and then out of his system, he swallows before continuing.

“I know it's late, didn’t realise until i’d already hit the call button. I wouldn’t have phoned if it wasn’t important, or at least I’m pretty sure it’s important-”

“Marc, I love you and I'm listening but I'm still incredibly tired. Could you maybe skip to the reason you’re calling me at… two in the morning?”

He stays silent for a moment or two, apologetic that he woke Layla up at this hour, but also more apprehensive to speak the words out loud. As if the reality of the situation, of the things he’s thinking, will settle in and manifest. That it’ll be real once he says it. Taking another deep breath, his throat feeling slightly strangled as he forces the words out of his mouth.

“Steven was drinking. I don’t know why, I just know that I woke up in a pile of sweat, having one of the worst panic attacks I've had in a while, promptly followed up by me puking my insides out and seeing he’s barely eaten anything all day. And a nightmare that I know was about our childhood that I can’t even remember to top it all off. I just- I thought if he’s spoken to anyone about any of this… it would be you.”

The line was silent for a while, the only clue that Layla was still there and that it hadn’t hung up or frozen was her muttered swears that the microphone just barely managed to pick up. He heard a brief shuffling, almost as though she was moving around to sit up in bed or something. Another few moments of silence passed before she spoke hesitantly, her tone reluctant but much more awake than it had been. Much more alert.

“I promised I wouldn’t say anything… He said he’d- Never mind. I don’t really know how to say this, it’s not my thing to say but if he’s getting to this point instead of talking I-”

The confusion and worry in Marc’s mind only stood to grow even more at the vague words. What was Steven not telling them? What could be so bad that he’s made Layla promise not to say anything? All members of the system had the understanding that there was a level of confidentiality between some of their personal conversations with Layla. If they wanted or needed to tell her something, or just didn’t want the other two to know about it, then they wouldn’t ask her. A mutual respect that they wouldn’t pry into things or try to force their partner to talk about things that didn’t concern them unless it was important enough for them all to know. And to Marc, this seemed like it was something pretty fucking important for them to know about.

“What? What do you mean ‘not your thing to say’? ‘Getting to this point’? Layla, what's wrong with Steven? I mean he knows he can talk to us about things, he’s always going on about being open and honest and how things are better when we all work together to try and solve them so what could be so bad that he’s hiding things from us-”

“He’s been having nightmares, Marc. About your childhood. About your trauma. He’s been having nightmares and flashbacks.”

As Layla cuts his ramblings off and tells him the truth, he’s stunned into silent shock. It's almost like the words just don’t process in his mind. At least not for the first minute or so after he’d heard them. Like his brain just refused to acknowledge them as the truth, or even just as a possibility at all. He almost asked her to repeat what she’d said, to give her the opportunity to say something else. Almost hoping that what she’d said was a mistake, or that he’d just misheard her. Until they actually started to settle in his head.

Steven had been having nightmares. Their Steven. He’d been having nightmares. He’d been having their nightmares. Marc and Jake had finally been freed from them, celebrating and joking between themselves that they’d been given a ‘mini restbite’. And Steven had been forced to deal with them instead. The Steven that would take their place and stay up for hours after they’d jolted awake to reassure them they were alright. The Steven that would talk outloud and describe every single item and object in their flat, as well as the layout of the floors, if it meant that they could believe they were safe and in their own home, not stuck in that house with their mother. The Steven that once decided to make a crappy little blanket fort at three in the morning for Jake because the man had been borderline inconsolable after he had screamed himself awake as a result of a particularly brutal nightmare. And now the same man was trying to brave his way through it all on his own, and had been doing so for months, all while Marc and Jake had been none the wiser..

“You need to talk to him about it, Marc. All three of you. He thinks that- He doesn’t want you to see him as a burden. Thinks that if he proves he can handle this on his own then he can prove he’s ‘contributing’ to the system, taking responsibility. That you’ll stop trying to keep things from him or I guess treating him like a child.”

Marc sits in a stunned silence as he listens to Layla speak, thoughts spinning like a tornado in his head. That couldn’t- That couldn’t be right. Steven doesn’t really think that. Doesn’t really believe that. Right? He couldn’t. But it was true in some way, they did keep things from him. They did treat him like a kid. Even if that was never their intention, they did it all the same. Falling into old habits of trying to keep his innocent naivety protected, keep him protected. And it’d backfired and made the man feel like he had to prove something to them. That he had to suffer in silence to be treated the same.

The stark realisation made Marc’s stomach lurch with nausea as he swallowed back the urge to gag, trying to suppress the growing pit in his stomach that had opened up like a sinkhole. His immediate reaction was that of self hatred, of anger, of a need to punish himself for not realising sooner or for making his headmate feel like that. But he knew that was no good, and it was probably the exact reaction that Steven had being trying to avoid by not telling him.

He sat in silence for a moment longer, not being able to think of the words he could use to formulate a response. Layla knew him well enough to understand that, even over the phone. He nodded slightly to himself as he continued to process her words, a small hum escaping his lips. Mumbling a tired but appreciative thanks to his wife, he makes the promise to fill her in on the aftermath before hanging up the phone with a mumbled ‘love you, thank you’. As per usual, she was right. They did need to talk. Sooner rather than later. Now.

Usually he wasn’t the one to initiate the contact in the innerworld, meditation like things having never really worked for him, but drastic times called for drastic measures and what better time to put this into practice than now. He took a few deep breaths, trying to distract himself from his own thoughts and feelings on the situation. Steven needed stability, reassurance that he could talk. Having a major freak out and blaming himself would only make the Brit want to comfort Marc and focus on him rather than the real issue centred around him. He just had to fill Jake in on the situation before. He knew the man would appreciate the forewarning, plus it would give them a better chance at being able to help Steven in a way that didn’t make him feel cornered.

Leaning back in bed, he slowly took some deep breaths and closed his eyes, just like Steven had told him to do when explaining it all, and tried to reach out to Jake. The man hated the use of mirrors most of the time, hating how jarring it was to be perceived, but Marc also just couldn’t be asked to get up out of bed and walk to a reflective surface. It only took a moment or two for Jake to surface, the man always on the wings somewhere in case he needed to jump in at a moment’s notice. He blinked his eyes open as he adjusted to the shift in his surroundings, stood next to the sofa in their innerworld flat instead of laying with closed eyes in bed. Beside him, Jake sat on the chair polishing his boots with a calmed expression, glancing up at Marc once he noted the man’s presence. Awkwardly, Marc just stood there for a moment, looking around the room as he tried to figure out what small talk he should try and make before leading into the main issue.

How the fuck was he supposed to start this conversation?

“So… How’s the weather been lookin-”

“Just spit it out, Manito, I don’t bite.”

Instantly, Marc clenched his jaw and drummed his fingers on his legs ever so slightly in an attempt to combat the self-consciousness as he became aware of how he was just standing in the middle of the room. His eyes flickered back and forth between the other man, his boots, and the fish tank bubbling away in the background as Gus and Gus swam calmly as he tried to figure out how to formulate his sentences. They really needed to get better names for the fish. He bit his lip as he stood there in silence, chewing at the slightly cracked skin and trying to bite it off. As he tasted iron, he opened his mouth to respond.

“Steven’s been having the nightmares. Our nightmares. Having our flashbacks too. For months. He was drinking my stash before he went to sleep tonight. Layla’s seen him wake up screaming bloody murder after thinking he was still stuck in a dream.”

Jake’s hands stilled as he wiped the remnants of the boot polish over the material, his reaction perfectly frozen in a way that Marc assumed meant his thoughts had started to spiral immediately like his had when he’d found out. It also meant he was also trying to figure out what to do next. Just like Marc had. After a few moments, the cab driver gently placed the cloth down and started to nod quietly, processing the information he’d just been given. It was clear he was still trying to wrap his head around it, and so Marc spared him from having to try and speak, electing to continue his words.

“Apparently he said he’d talk to us, but I think we need to start the conversation first. She- Layla said that he’s trying to show his contribution to the system or something. That we’ve been treating him like a kid by trying to keep him safe from things. That we’ve been leaving him out. Making him feel like a- like a burden.”

Jake continued to nod, somewhat more forceful as Marc continued to talk. His eyes widened ever so slightly as his body language grew into a more spread out and tense defensive stance, his eyes scanning over the table back and forth as he did. Reaching up to remove his cap, he ran gloved hands through his hair and out of his face roughly, sitting back and looking up at Marc as he held the accessory in his hand like a lifeline. His jaw clenched a few times, his back cracking as he straightened his spine slightly. After a few more moments of silence, Jake took a deep breath and swallowed, staring off at the empty desk that sat tucked next to the stacks of books. A beat or two passed before he stood up, looking to the other side of the room as though staring at someone. As Marc followed his gaze, he had to mask his shock as suddenly sat in the uncomfortable desk chair was the main focus of their conversation: Steven.

The Brit was hunched over a book, reading as though nothing was happening until the confusion hit him and he looked up with a disorientated expression. Spinning around on his chair, his eyes immediately landed on the two men who were looking… worse for wear. That being said, Steven probably wasn’t looking so great either. He looked down at his clothes and realised he was wearing the black sweatshirt and joggers he had been wearing when they were stuck in the asylum. His hands were mostly covered by the sleeves being pulled up over them and as he reached up to brush his curled fringe out of his face. The dark strands felt greasy and knotted in his fingers, and he was suddenly very aware of how awful his face felt. He felt the weight beneath his eyes, dark circles sitting beneath them. His cheeks feeling somewhat sunken, and the rest of his face feeling oily. He felt like shit. He was literally projecting how he felt and he couldn’t get it to stop.

Suddenly, he started to feel extremely vulnerable as he looked at the other two men, his legs bouncing nervously. He felt like a bug under a microscope, like he was about to be pinned to a canvas frame. The more he looked at them, the more he realised he’d been brought here on purpose, the way the Americans were glancing at one another and back at him as if they knew something. Like they were trying to silently argue about something. Something to do with him. Why was he here? It’s not like they had anything important to Steven, they never included him with that kind of thing so why-

In an instant, his heart stopped dead, his spine straightening and body tensing as he frantically looked at the pair as if he’d just been struck by lightning. He felt himself rocking back and forward in the chair ever so slightly, counting slowly as he tried to focus on his breathing. Was it even possible to have a panic attack on the innerworld? It felt like he was about to find out. He blinked desperately, hoping that with enough force he could try to escape this situation and take over the body to get out.

They knew. Somehow his headmates had found out about him. About his situation. How? Or- Maybe they didn’t. Maybe he was just overreacting. Maybe if he tried to play it off and fake ignorance then he could get out of it. Maybe they only realised he was withdrawn and they were none the wiser about his-

“We know about the nightmares, Steven. Layla told us.”

For a brief moment, he felt a pang of betrayal in his chest towards her. He’d made her promise she wouldn’t tell them so why on earth would she-

“I woke up throwing up all the liquor you’d drank on an empty stomach, bedsheet drenched in sweat, on the tail end of the worst panic attack I've felt in months. Of course I was going to call the only person who would have any inkling as to what the fuck was going on with you. What were you thinking? Why would you-”

Marc was cut off by Jake lightly stamping on his foot in a clear signal for him to stop talking and calm down, clearly having realised how the man’s worry was definitely coming off as confrontational instead of reassuring. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, as if trying to reset his attitude, before looking back at Steven with a stern but slightly apologetic gaze. Clearing his throat stiffly, he walked over to Steven and sat a few feet away from him on the floor to give him space. Jake followed suit behind him and sat on a small table to the side of him, just barely above Steven’s natural sitting eye level. The three men sat in quiet for a few more moments, before Marc spoke up once more and broke the silence.

“We’re… sorry. I’m sorry. We thought we were doing right by you and clearly it did the opposite. You never should’ve been made to feel like you couldn’t talk to us and- Yeah. I’m sorry, Steven. Genuinely.”

Silently, Jake nodded along with the man as he watched Steven’s eyes shift around looking at the floor. A minute of silence passed as the Brit let the words sink in. They were apologising… To him. A part of him wanted to backpedal, immediately try to reassure the two men that it was no harm done and that he knew it wasn’t deliberate. But another part of him was just tired. Tired for the months of struggling silently, albeit because of his own choice to try and hide it, but he still felt like he wasn’t worth the fuss that would be caused if he spoke up. And they were apologising for it. Eventually, after another minute or two, he looked up at the pair with red rimmed eyes slowly filling with tears. His voice shook slightly as he spoke, there was no point trying to hide it anymore because they saw him in the same way he felt. They knew the way he felt because they’d felt it as well at some point.

“How do you do it? How do you both cope with it so well?”

There was a brief moment of shock that crossed their faces at Steven’s question. Marc’s expression leaning towards reluctant realisation at how the man saw the pair at the words, and Jake’s steering more towards a neutral acceptance of his perception. Neither of them looked as though they agreed with the wording of Steven’s inquiry. Marc spoke up once more to answer the man nonetheless, Jake taking over once he stops.

“We can’t cope with it, Steven. We just grit our teeth and push through it. You want to know how we can do it? You. You’re the reason we can survive it.”

“He’s right, ricitos. We don’t know how to look after ourselves in the way that lets us live. Without you we’re just barely existing. You look after us. Love us. Support us. You’re everything to us, and we’re sorry that we’ve made you feel like you’re not.”

As they both watched Steven react to their words, they could’ve sworn they felt their hearts break in that single moment. At the realisation on how the men viewed him, Steven’s disbelief started to melt into something almost sobering. His brows lowered, rising slightly on the inner parts showing the clear frown lines on his forehead. He gently caught the bottom of his lip between his teeth for a moment as the corners of his mouth tilted downwards into a stunted frown. His eyelids drooped slightly as the redness lining the rims were contrasted against the purple bags beneath his eyes, shimmering slightly under the dim light as tears started to delicately stream down his face. They watched as his lip quivered ever so slightly as his eyes downcast to his hands that were clasping one another, wringing together as he let the words wash over him. As he sniffled quietly, he bit his lips together into an even clearer frown, the lines that usually showed from him smiling too much framed them painfully. In a shaky voice, he eventually spoke up.

“I just thought that the alcohol might make it easier to fall asleep. That it would… I don’t know. Distract me from my anxiety or something. Didn’t realise I had forgotten to eat until I’d already started drinking. It was absolutely minging, just for your information. Don’t know how you can drink that stuff. I won’t- I’m not going to do it again though. And thank you. For apologising. I appreciate it a lot.”

They sit in silence for a few more moments before Marc speaks up, somewhat nervously. Afraid of something. Insecure about himself, about the possibility of messing up this fragile interaction by saying the wrong thing.

“You could’ve asked us to stick around. Just to keep you company getting to sleep- You still can. It might be kind of a shitty downfall of this disorder, but in some cases never really being alone might be a bit of a blessing in disguise. I wouldn’t mind in the slightest. Neither would Jake.”

He looks up and over his shoulder from his seat on the floor to see Jake giving the gentlest smile he’s ever seen from the man in a reassuring manner to both Steven and Marc, nodding slowly in agreement to the man’s words. Steven focuses on the gloved man while thankfully flashing a weak smile towards him, replicating it as he looks down to Marc. He wipes his dripping nose on his oversized sleeve before grimacing slightly in brief disgust at his own action before responding.

“I just didn’t want you to worry about me. I… I thought it might make you treat me like a child even more. I didn't want to be babied- Even if you never meant it like that it just- It just really started to piss me off, if i’m being honest. I just want to be treated the same as you treat each other.” He pauses to take a steady inhale before flashing a friendly smile to the pair, almost endearing in his own way. “I’m an adult, lads. A grown man, same as you. I don’t care if you keep me out of… ‘darker’ conversations. If it’s something I shouldn’t know yet, that it would be bad for me to know about just now, I wouldn’t mind. But it feels like it’s all of the- all of the trauma. All of the time. Sure, I didn’t know about it until recently, but that doesn’t mean I’m still clueless. I mean, hell, how can we even be sure that there are pieces of it that I know about but you both don’t. Did you ever think about it like that? What if I’d been the one to trigger something in the both of you because I just assumed it was common knowledge that you both knew? It’s not a one way street, you know.”

There was a slight shift in the air as Steven concluded his words, the Americans glancing at each other in apprehension as they realised that their headmate could be right. They really didn’t know what Steven knew and what he didn’t because they’d tried to keep him out of the conversation. Which meant that there was a genuine possibility that he might know something they weren’t aware of. Something he might’ve experienced on his own in their childhood and just repressed it so none of them knew about it. It was a quiet fear that they’d never known they shared, or even had, until that very moment. Trying not to dwell on it too much, at least not for now, they turned back to the Brit with matching sombre yet genuinely understanding expressions, having begun to listen and acknowledge the crying man’s points.

“What was- You don’t have to answer this- You might not even remember it but- That night with Layla. When you had the nightmare… What was it about? Layla didn’t tell me anything about it, just that it was the worst she’d seen in a while. That she actually thought it was me or Jake for a second before you started speaking.”

The Brit looked towards Marc in surprise at the revelation, the past betrayal he’d briefly felt against Layla being completely washed away at the realisation she’d really only told her husband the bare framework. Just enough to fill him in on the situation and get the ball rolling. It was a feeling quickly squashed by the dread that appeared at the thought of talking about the nightmare. A new found fear that he might be telling them something they didn’t know about. He could suddenly understand why they had been reluctant to include him in these types of conversations. Why both men were still so guarded, even to each other, when it came to the trauma they shared and spoke about if they spoke about it at all.

But he’d always been the one to say they should talk about it. He’d literally just made an entire little speech about how they should include him when talking about this stuff. If anything, this would be an olive branch. To consolidate that Steven shouldn’t be excluded, not that he needed to give a reason to prove his point. He didn’t have to share if he really didn’t want to. The three of them understood that things like this shouldn’t be pushed. Shouldn’t be forced. Enough of their shared lives had been forced and taken out of their control so, as a baseline of respect, they always gave that choice to say no and back out at any time. Which is why Steven felt safe enough to make the choice to tell them.

“It was about mum. I’m assuming they usually are.” He pauses to read the pair’s expression, feeling slightly discouraged as they huffed sad laughs in agreement but also like there was a new found solidarity with even just a small half joke like that. “We were in the car. I don’t remember a lot of it to be fair, It was quite a bit ago. She started shouting things at me, starting screaming. Started to speed up. Started to swerve the car in the road. Started to scream about crashing and getting rid of us both, let go of the wheel and I just remember the fear and the panic and just the realisation that I was about to die. I thought I was going to die right there. Thought that was it. That if the crash didn’t kill me it was going to be my heart exploding right out of my chest because I couldn’t breathe and I was crying too much.” His expression turned to a devastating revulsion as more tears streamed down his face, a brief sob getting trapped in his throat before he continued to talk. “I don’t remember most of it but the one thing I can remember thinking the clearest was how worried I was that she would get in trouble for her driving. I was convinced I was about to die, and I was still worrying about her and what would happen to her if someone saw her driving like that- She tried to kill me- Kill us- And I was thinking about her fucking reputation- What the fuck is wrong with me- Why did I- I couldn’t- I don’t know- How could I-”

By the time Steven started to reach the end of his recount of the nightmare, he was clearly working himself up into a frantic state. The pair watched worriedly as their headmate started to breathe heavier and heavier, spiralling into the start of a panic attack. In an attempt to prevent it before it got any worse, they moved closer to him. Marc started quietly mumbling hushed reassurances, knowing exactly how painful it was to still love the person that had put them through more than any child should have to bear. On the other hand, Jake decided to pass Steven’s plushie to him and drape a blanket over the man’s shoulders to add a comforting bit of pressure in the hopes of grounding him. He didn’t share the connection to Wendy that the other two men did. Saw her as nothing more than the woman that made their lives a living hell. In his eyes she was even less connected to him than a stranger. Maybe when they were younger he might’ve felt something different, but he grew out of that as soon as he could. While Marc tried to reassure the Brit with a unique understanding that they were both extremely familiar with, he moved over to the space that had been designated as their living room and started to move around doing his own thing. As he did so, he picked up on their close but distant conversation.

“There’s nothing wrong with you, Steven. There will never be anything bad about the fact that you are so capable of loving people.”

“The things she- It’s not- It’s sick that I still-”

“She’s our mom. All of the bad outweighs the good by tenfold, but that doesn’t mean that we can just forget about all of the good. It would be easier if it was all bad. Then we wouldn’t have to deal with this. But you are not at fault for being human and still loving the good things about her. The good things that we experienced.”

“It hurts so much- Why did she have to-”

“I don’t know, Steven. I don’t know.”

Jake quickly glanced over as he heard their interaction tamper down in volume to see them holding each other, clinging to one another like a lifeline. He was never one for physical contact, not really. That's what happens when you’re brought into a life that so sorely lacks it. Its hard to miss what you’ve never really had, and that’s why even when given the option in the past he’d never really accepted it. The few times he had had been damn near crushing when it was over. Any other physical contact was never good news, and it was never a choice. But as he looked at the two men, he almost felt a longing to be included. To walk over there and hug the pair. He couldn’t tell if it was fully for their benefit, or if there was an almost selfish ulterior motive for himself as well though. He looked down to the pillows in his hands and started to speed up the process of finishing his idea, placing them in the spot he deemed to be the best and shift one of the blankets to the side.

A few more minutes passed before Steven had started to calm down, a wave of exhaustion washing over him as his tears slowed to a stop. Marc’s arms stayed wrapped firmly around him, sniffling slightly as the Brit realised his counterpart had at some point also started crying alongside him. He squeezed the man tighter for a moment, a brief reassurance to him that Steven was there for him as well. That they weren’t going to suffer with this alone. It was then that he also realised the distinct lack of their third headmate, the man having seemingly disappeared from their close proximity. With a fleeting moment of panic, his head jerked up to cast a look around the visible areas of the flat to find him. Marc pulled back with a confused face before arriving on the same train of thought and joining his short search, their shared worries quickly subsiding as they saw the man looking over at them with an amused but warm smile and motioning for them to go over to him.

Groaning slightly at the strain in his joints, Marc used Steven as a bit of leverage to pull himself upwards from his uncomfortable kneeling position on the floor. He wrapped an arm around the man’s torso lightly without a word, pulling him close as they moved to walk over towards Jake. He softly tried to secure the blanket around the Brit’s shoulders as they made their way towards him to stop it from falling onto the floor. The man had put his plain, dark flat cap back on and was trying to hide the half proud, half nervous look on his face as he stared over to the sofa and back at the two men to watch their reaction closely.

Somehow, in the time that Marc had managed to calm down Steven and simultaneously have his own emotional breakdown after seeing so much of his own inner struggles in Steven, Jake had managed to rearrange the furniture and construct a makeshift fort from blankets and pillows. It was clearly rushed, but still surprisingly well built with a sturdy structure. He’d even used the duvet and pillows from their bed. Small battery powered tea lights were dotted around the outsides, as well as a few on the inside, that somehow gave it a warmer feeling. It was a perfect haven that faced the television that hummed with life, the images on the screen gently shifting with a low volume to accompany them. Connected to the television via an old DVD player they'd recently found was one of Steven’s comfort films: Matilda. The pair faltered in their step at the sight of it all. At the safety that just radiated from the space that Jake had created for them all.

The man in question’s face contorted slightly into a rarely displayed uncertainty, a worry that the other men didn’t like it. It wasn’t often that Jake really doubted himself. There was never really time for that, never a room for error when the majority of his past life experiences had been born out of a final surge of pure instinct to survive. So when he couldn’t read the pair’s expressions, only seeing the tears and exhaustion from moments earlier, as well as the shock on their faces at the sight, he started to shift nervously from one foot to the other. He wasn’t good at physical affection, wasn’t the best at words of reassurance, especially when the subject matter was an incredibly personal and unique feeling that he wasn’t quite aligned with. He’d always heard the expression ‘actions speak louder than words’ and in that moment he was desperately hoping that his actions said the things he wanted to tell the other men. So when he saw the smiles that broke out onto their faces, he couldn’t help but earnestly mirroring it back at them.

Without any words being exchanged, they all moved to situate themselves in the centre of the fort, Steven in the middle being flanked comfortably by his headmates. Jake reached to turn the volume up just ever so slightly, so they wouldn’t be stuck just reading the captions alone. They all shuffled comfortably under the blankets, the Brit almost fully covered while the Americans stuck at least one or two limbs out from beneath the material to avoid feeling too overheated or trapped. The film continued to play as the three situated themselves in a close pile, Marc holding and leaning into Steven while Steven threw an arm over his and leaned into Jake’s side. Expectantly, he looked up at the cab driver before smiling, clearly pleased with himself as Jake threw an arm around him that reached over to Marc as well. It took a few moments for Jake to relax but eventually the tension bled from him as he leaned into Steven’s side as well. He traded a quick glance over the Brit’s head towards Marc and saw the man looking equally content with the situation and how it had played out.

As the film progressed, the three of them gradually started to feel themselves drift off into varying levels of sleep. Steven had been the first to nod off, barely making it more than fifteen minutes before the comfort of the two men either side of him combined with the exhaustion of bearing his soul caught up with him and lulled him into unconsciousness. Marc, having also not escaped the weariness that came as a side effect of heavy crying and emotional fatigue, drifted asleep about five minutes after Steven had. Jake on the other hand had kept awake until the credits to the film started playing, splitting his attention between the plot of the movie and watching over the two men sleeping beside him. Slowly, he reached to grab the remote, desperately trying to avoid waking up the other men as he clicked onto the menu screen and clicked the play button to restart it. He could understand why Steven liked the film.

#moon knight #moon knight system #moon knight fanfic #steven grant #marc spector #jake lockley #layla el faouly #my fic #writing #ao3 #hurt/comfort

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