#moon knight hurt/comfort

[bensolosbluesaber]

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

My Masterlist

Taglist (Want to be added? Click here.)

**This is a mess. Some people won’t tag. I’ve definitely missed people. I’m so so sorry!

@love-on-the-murder-scene @bookfrog242 @irethepotato @graciexmarvel @simonsbluee @nagemasstuff @whovian378 @cringingmemeries @eerievixen @velyssaraptor @lethalbeautiful @mixerya92 @marrigold-2002 @wolf-phoenix-lover @sugarpunch-princess @slytherheign @simping-master-69 @bristark616 @kotonei-molyneux @slasherssexslave @luna-maximoff-22 @fantasy-is-best @dd242 @harrys-tittie @fandomgal64 @7minutes-tomidnight @laters-gators12 @deliciousblackfatcat @rqmanoff @xzombiealicex @awkward-d3rs3-dr3amer @femalemarvelself  @stark-kirk-rogers-grant-blog @hopefulfangirl24 @ale0m  @infinityparadoxloop   @a1tbunny   @in-between-the-cafes @leh2393 @coffee-prince-kyungsoo @hopefulfangirl24 @hb8301 @jvstjewels @mrsxreeves @alicetweven @kezibear @woofgocows @blulemonades @alicetweven  @welcometostayingawake @queenie-rebel  @snowinseptember

#moon knight #moon knight x reader #moon knight x f!reader #moon knight x avengers!reader #oscar isaac #oscar isaac x reader #oscar isaac x f!reader #steven grant #jake lockley #marc spector #steven grant x f!reader #steven grant x reader #jake lockley x reader #jake lockley x f!reader #marc spector x reader #marc spector x f!reader #bonus cameos included at no extra charge #moon knight angst #moon knight hurt/comfort #moon knight whump #moon knight fic #mcu #bensolosbluesabermasterlist #bensolosbluesaber

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

I have a request if you're taking any. A Jake Lockley x fem!reader. The reader is dating them but is kind of scared of Jake (is very quiet and weary around him, doesn't like his physical touch) because he was cold and mean to her when they first met (he wanted to "protect" Steven) but now all he wants is to hold and love her. The opportunity finally arrives when she's sick and needs his help. (He forcefully fronts bc he's not letting this opportunity go to waste)

Of course! Thank you so much for the ask!

Ahhh, this one got away from me a bit. (And did a bit of it's own thing) I went in to write some angst with Jake and just ended up writing soft!Jake (again, because I can't help myself.) I hope this is okay!

Embrace

Jake Lockley X F!Reader Rating: T Masterlist | ao3 | want to be tagged?

Warnings: Overuse of railroad sentences, typos, hurt/comfort, previous Jake & reader not getting along, sick!reader, fluff, implied Steven x reader and Marc x reader, please let me know if I’ve missed a warning!

Word Count: 1789

_______________________________________

He can’t stop playing it over and over again in his mind. The image looping in a relentless merry-go-round. 

A light touch. His gloved fingertips barely skimming your skin as he tapped you on the arm. A gentle warning that he-they were back. 

You’d had your headphones on as you did the washing up, miming along a song whose beat bled out into the air around you. 

It was like you had known it was him on some subconscious level even before he reached you. 

Your reaction was etched into his skin, carved behind his eyelids. The flinch. The instinctive movement away from him. It was like a knife hacking the flesh away from his chest. 

You had looked at him as you paused your music. Your eyes a little wide and weary before you gave him a small smile. “Am I in the way?” 

The air had stuck in his throat, crushing him under the weight of his breath.

Jake didn’t trust his voice, not in that moment. He swallowed and shook his head. 

You nodded, looking at his hands instead of his face and went back to the washing up. You didn’t turn your music back on. 

.

It had been his fault. Jake knew that. He had been more than distant, cold, purposely keeping you further than an arm’s length and trying to drag Marc and Steven away from you as well. 

You had been a stranger. A danger. A variable that he couldn’t keep a constant eye on. 

There was a small mix up, some bad intel when Jake went out of his way to check on your background - just in case - by the time he realised that he had been working on the wrong information the damage was done. 

.

Jake watched in the background as Steven travelled home, keeping quiet as Marc and Steven talked. They had taken to wearing large over the ear headphones so that they could speak freely in public and look like they were just on the phone. Not that anyone in London would even notice if they were talking to themselves or not. 

He had stayed quiet as Steven showered and got changed, as Marc hoovered and then washed the leftover morning dishes. 

He didn’t even interject in the discussion of what to make for dinner, which was quickly becoming a squabble. 

It was only interrupted by the sound of the front door opening, and you shuffling into the flat. 

But your doorsteps, they sounded… wrong. Too heavy and laboured, missing the normal bounce to your step. 

Marc was about to call out a greeting when Jake pushed to the front, cutting off his words before he had even opened his mouth. 

‘Jake!’ Marc’s voice was loud, but fading as he fell back. 

As Steven spoke at the exact same time. ‘Mate, you can’t just do that-” 

“Something’s wrong.” Jake muttered, his muscles tense. He moved towards the front door, keeping his footsteps light and making the minimal amount of possible sound. He stopped when you came into view.

You were slouched on the settee, crumpled up and drawn in on yourself. Your work bag was still on your lap, your coat and shoes on. Eyes shut. 

There was a horrible twist in his stomach, a wave of panic that buzzed across every nerve. You were hurt. 

He rushed forward, all previous grace forgotten.

You didn’t open your eyes until he put a hand firmly on your shoulder, an action that was worrying enough, “where are you injured?” He frowned deeply, trying to scan you over for any bruising or open wounds. 

“What, I’m not,” your voice came out all stuffy. Bunked up and a little garbled as if you’d just been woken from sleep. 

Realisation dawned.  You were sick, not hurt. He should pull back. He should get Steven or Marc, let them help you. That’s what you would want. 

“I’m just a bit,” your eyes were glassy, your reactions a little delayed. You motioned to your head with your hands. “Cotton wool-y.”

Jake put his hand on your forehead, you were burning hot.

He tutted and knelt down on the ground and began to take off your shoes. Quick and precise in his movements. 

You frowned. Your mind slowly catching up. “Jake?” 

He didn’t pause, didn’t answer. But swallowed when you stiffened slightly. 

“You don’t need to do that.” You whispered.

Jake continued, focused on his task, his warm hand on your calf as he eased your foot out of your boot and placed it carefully on the side before he started on the other. 

You cleared your throat. “You don’t have to.”

He set your other boot next to the first and slowly stood. His movements were slow, precise, careful to not surprise you. As if you were some wild skittish animal that could be spooked by the smallest thing. 

Jake took your work bag from your lap and hung it up on the side, where you liked to keep it. You followed his movements, nerves eating into your stomach. He didn’t have to do this. You were sure he didn’t want to do this. You were nothing more than a burden to him, an annoyance that he had to put up with for Marc and Steven’s sake. You-

“Come on,” he spoke softly, his eyes still downcast as he lent down towards you, gently taking your hands in his to help you to stand. “Let’s get you to bed.” 

“Jake,” the urge to pull your hands back, away from his touch was so strong, but you let him help you up. 

He ignored your words, wrapping one arm around your shoulders, his other hand on your arm as he began to guide you to the bedroom. 

“Jake,”

He stared at his feet,his lips pressed together into a tight line. His long, dark eyelashes were almost kissing his skin in his determination not to catch your gaze. 

“Jake.” You stopped, forcing Jake to as well. Your voice cracked as you spoke, your throat sore and aching. You swallowed. “I don’t need you to do this.”

He looked at you then.

You were expecting to see relief on his face. A nod. For his hands to leave you so that he could go about his evening without having to carry the burden of caring about you for his alter’s sake. 

Instead, his expression made a sharp cut of emotion sink into your chest. 

He stared at you with glassy eyes, his mouth slightly parted. He looked crestfallen. He looked heartbroken.

You didn’t know what to do.

There was a long moment before he spoke. “Please.”

You frowned in confusion. 

“Please,” he repeated. “Please let me look after you.” “Please don’t,” he glanced down again and screwed up his eyes, clenching his jaw and dropping his arms to his sides. Your skin was cold without his heat.

Slowly, you reached out and took his hand. A light touch as you tentatively wrapped your fingers around his. He squeezed back tightly. 

“Please let me look after you.” Jake whispered. “Please.”

You cupped his cheek with your free hand and he lent into it without hesitation, closing his eyes and breathing out heavily. As if the weight of the world was lifted from his shoulders. 

“Jake?” 

He opened his eyes, a painful vulnerability dancing in them. 

“Please look after me.” You whispered. 

He smiled, the expression lighting up his whole face in one glorious moment. You’d never seen him smile like that before. 

He led you to bed, only leaving so that you could get changed into your pyjamas. He came back, calling out to you at first to check that you had finished changing your clothes, with his arms full. He carefully placed a new box of tissues and a packet of strepsils on your bedside table, along with some paracetamol and a cooling gel pack that was intended for headaches - explaining that it was Steven’s and he didn’t know if it would be helpful. 

You beamed at him as you sat up in bed, but didn’t get a chance to thank him as Jake rushed out of the room again, coming back quickly with your favourite mug. Steam wafted out of it. 

“It’s ginger,” he said, adding it to the collection on your bedside table, and making sure it sat perfectly in the middle of the coaster. “With some honey, it should help your throat. I can hear that you're a bit croaky.”

The honey touched your heart. There was only one pot of it in the flat, Jake’s vitamin honey that you had never touched. The honey that he refused to share with Marc or Steven, even going to the extent of hiding it. It was one of the few luxuries he allowed himself. 

“Jake,” you spoke so softly you were surprised he heard you. “Thank you.”

He fiddled with his hands, another little smile pulling at his lips. “It’s nothing.”

You shook your head, leaning a little to reach out to take his hand. He reacted straight away, moving towards your touch so that you didn’t have to disrupt your comfort. He sat lightly on the very edge of the mattress when you urged him to, taking your hand in his and running your thumb over his skin in a soothing pattern. 

Jake watched you, mesmerised. Your touch was for him, he wasn’t watching through Marc or Steven. It was his. 

“I’m honoured you know.” You said with a smile. “Letting me have some of your honey.” 

A small flush crept along his skin. For a moment he thought about lying, about saying that there was another jar. He swallowed and spoke quietly. “You’re more important than the honey.”

You didn’t know what to say, words wouldn’t form. 

Slowly, so carefully as if he was now the easily startled wild animal, you leant forward and wrapped your arms around him. You gave Jake plenty of time to move away, to back off. Instead he rushed towards it, quickly embracing you back and just melting into the hug. 

He tucked his head into your neck and breathed out a shaky breath. 

You could feel the tension in his arms, the strain running just under his skin as he fought the urge to hold you tighter, to press you closer to every inch of his body. 

You shifted backwards, laying down, and pulled him with you, urging him to follow. He clutched you tightly, and moved, shifting only slightly so that he was laying next to you and not on top of you. 

He let out the sweetest sigh of content as you coax him to lay his head on your chest and ran your fingers through his hair, still holding you tight. 

____________________________________

Thank you for reading!

Taglist: @pleasurebuttonwrites @jake-g-lockley @raven-rk @campingwiththecharmings @alexxavicry @mystinky-butt @cocodiem @oscarisaacsspit @welcometostayingawake @mbakubabe @solobagginses @welcometostayingawake @melodygatesauthor @romanarose @mbakubabe

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[romanarose]

Used

Marc Spector x GN!reader

Join my tag list!

Moon Knight masterlist

Summary: Marc and you enjoy rough sex, but when Marc asks you to try something new, it quickly goes downhill.

Warnings and Content: reverences to BDSM, Dom/sub, whipping with a belt, Marc's abusive childhood, references to self-harm in the past, mention of self-harm scars, just.... a lot of talk about self-harm. Misuse of BDSM. Breach of trust in a D/s dynamic, miscommunication. This isn't meant to be a perfect or even good D/s relationship or relationship in general. this is a relationship that is struggling right now. Don't look to fanfiction for sex and relationship advice. Marc is self-destructing, reader isn't the best at handling it but the are trying. Lots of crying lmfao. If I miss anything LMK but really this is a proceed at your own caution situation as I've at least laid out the basic themes.

Immersability: Marc can pick up reader. I think that's it? I usually write Fem!reader but there really wasn't a reason to make this fem so I put GN!reader this time. If I accidentally fem coded something lmk.

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

“Are you ready to talk about it?”

Marc looked up from his food he had barely eaten. You’d made him his favorite: chicken strips and fries. Marc was a picky eater due to his sensory issues so you were happy to have simple little meals when Marc was fronting for dinner. He’d been absent for a few days, only fronting when Steven and Jake insisted. You’d been worried, after all. The last night you and Marc had together hadn’t ended well, and you wanted to talk to him.

*

“That’s it, I’m calling it.” You said, climbing off the back of Marc’s legs that you had been stradling and quickly pulled on your robe.

“I- what?” The panic in Marc’s voice was evident. You and Marc… liked things rough, but unlike you and Jake, it was you who was the dominant in this dynamic. You and Marc had been doing things like this for a while, clearly defined boundaries and safewords and communication had made a smooth going of things. Marc had been having a bit of a tough time lately so you had stuck to regular love-making, but tonight he had come to you with a request to try something new. He wanted you to use a belt on him.

“Something’s wrong, Marc.”

His face was still in the mattress, face down, but lift enough to speak without looking at you. “I didn’t use the safeword?” It was more a question than a statement.

“Well, I am. Red, on your behalf.” You weren’t super into the idea of using a belt on him, but you weren’t uncomfortable, and since it was something he wanted, you decided to give it a try. Pretty quickly, you didn’t think it was going to happen again but you intended on seeing it through. Marc usually whimpered and yelped during sex, but you could tell his pleasure even still… something told you this was different. This was wrong. He didn’t use his safe word, but he didn’t need to. You knew him.

“I’m fine-”

“Turn over” You instruct, and when he doesn’t you nudge him over gently. Your heart hurts at the tears in his eyes, but his boxer briefs tell you what you suspected. His erection was gone. “Marc…”

Immediately, his lip quivers, breath shaky and he sputters out apologies and you remember your job. It’s not to chastise him, not to question him. Not right now. Right now you need to take care of him.

First was reassurance. “Hey, hey baby,” You cup his face. “It’s okay, you didn’t do anything wrong.” 

Second was always his weighted blanket. He didn’t usually sleep with it, so you kept it under the bed for any time he needed the pressure.

Third depended. If he needed anything medical or was hurt, that was next, but you didn’t think what you had done was too bad (your hesitant actions didn’t lead to anything harsh and you had been researching and reaching out to others on how to do this correctly.). Right now, Marc needed to calm down. With tears wetting his cheeks and his anxiety over thinking he ruined the scene, he needed reassurance next. 

“Can I lay with you?” You ask as you tuck the blanket over him the way he likes. When he nodded, you lie down beside him. “The usual?” He nodded again, and you place yourself how you usually did. You lay on his chest, arms holding him, right leg bent over his, adding to the weight of the blanket.

“You didn’t do a thing wrong, Marc. You were perfect, this is me, okay? My choice to end it.”

You stay like that for a while before asking to check his back when his breathing was normal. He nodded again and you knew he wasn’t going to be talking the rest of the night. That was okay, you knew how to communicate without words. Marc rolls over, and you see you were correct; not much as far as wounds. You ice him and gently rub aloe vera ointment over the small welts. Once that was done, you help him in dressing in his most comfortable pj’s and resume your previous position until he fell asleep.

You woke up to Steven that morning.

*

“Talk about what?” Marc tried to deflect, but you cocked your head to the side and raised your eyebrows.

“The other night, Marc. We need to talk about it.”

He avoided your eyes again and mumbled. “I wasn’t the one who safworded.”

You couldn’t help but sigh. “Marc, honey, please? I wanna talk about it so I know what I did wrong-”

His eyes flicked up, his tone harsher than you were used to. “Only thing you did wrong was safeword.”

Taken aback, you feel your chest tightening with anxiety at the argument bubbling. You want to dial it back, but the implication of his words hurt. “Marc… I’m allow to use the safe word too”

Immediately he looked regretful. “No- that’s not what I meant, fuck, sorry…” You gave him a second to regain his thoughts. “I just meant you shouldn’t have done it for me.”

You soften, understanding what he meant. “Baby, you were clearly uncomfortable, and that makes me uncomfortable.” 

“I was fine!” He snapped, yelling at you and you see it right away when Jake takes over. “Lo siento, amor.”

“It’s okay, Jake.” But it was clear that his shouting hurt your feelings.

“He shouldn’t yell at you like that.” Jake began eating the chicken. One thing about Jake is he’s going to take care of Marc, and that includes eating when Marc won’t.

“We’ve been… going through a little bit of a rough patch…” You conceded, admitting it to yourself for the first time. The last month with Marc had been hard. He was drifting, and you couldn’t figure out how to stop it. 

“It’s not you. He loves you very much.”

“I know he does, I love him.”

“I know.” Jake stuffed his mouth full of chicken. “I told him it wasn’t a good idea to reenact his moms abuse, but he never listens to me.”

That caught your attention. “Wait, what?” You weren’t stupid. You knew his enjoyment of rough sex probably had something to do with his childhood, but Marc didn’t divulge much other than his mom physically abused him.

“Oh great, Marc’s yelling at me now, I guess he never told you his mom whipped-” Marc took the body back. “SHUT UP!” He screamed with eyes pinched shut. You sat in silence until they opened again. When he saw you looking at him with wide eyes, he spoke quietly. “Sorry, I didn’t think… I didn’t realize I was in control again…”

“It’s okay…” You whisper. “Marc… what was Jake gonna say.”

Marc sighed, closing his eyes I think you know.

You did, but you wanted him to say it.

“Marc?” Your voice was shaking and seemed so distant from you as you slowly realized what happened, what he had done. What he had made you do.

“She whipped me with a belt.” Marc’s face was deadset, the look he gave when he was trying so hard not to show emotion, but the heavy rise and fall of his chest always gave it away.

You stand up suddenly. “Marc…” stepping backwards as Marc stands with you, you try to get distance  from him, disgust with yourself permeating your bones.

“Marc…”

“Baby, it’s not what you think-” He held out his hand to calm you but your body began to curl in on itself, horrified as you wrap your arms around your waist.

“Were you using me to self harm?”

Horror washed over his face. “No! No that’s not it!”

“But you were! You were using me to hurt yourself, to punish yourself! That’s sick, Marc! Sick!” You couldn’t believe he’d made you an accomplice in his battle against himself.

“It’s not like that, I swear!”

“Making me into your mother, Marc? How could you use me like that?” The tears were welling in your eyes, hurt and self-loathing swelling your thoughts. 

“Baby…” Marc looked like he was about to cry himself. “It’s not- it’s not that big a deal…” Marc always tried to down play, to refuse help, to refuse to admit when something he’d done hurt you. Not because he didn’t think he was wrong. Marc always thought he was in the wrong. No, it was because he didn’t think he was worth crying over.

“YES IT IS!” In a fit of frustration, you reach for the kitchen knife. Marc didn’t jump, didn’t startle. He knew whatever you were doing, you wouldn’t hurt him. You give him the handle and hold out your wrist. “Cut me.”

He looked as confused as he was horrified. “Wha-”

“Cut me!” A litany of scars riddles your wrist, he knew what asking him to add to it meant.

“No!” Marc set the knife down far away from you, grabbing your wrist and pulling you into him in concern. “Baby, why would I do that?” He kissed the scars., speaking softly now as you cried freely. “C’mon, your scaring me… are you having urges to hurt yourself again?”

Classic Marc, always more worried about you. “N-o,” You stammer, crying hard as Marc pulls you into a hug. “That’s the point! You’-d-d-d never help me hurt myself, why would you ask me to hurt you like that?” You are crying, legs shaking and you don’t feel you can keep standing.

Marc sinks to the floor with you, holding you close and crying with you. “I’m sorry, baby, I’m so sorry.” He held you in his arms for a while until you started to calm down. When you were no longer shaking, Marc lifted you up, carrying you to your bedroom.

First, he reassured you. “You didn’t do anything wrong, baby girl. It’s okay, it wasn’t your fault.”

Next was the weighted blanket. It was a gift from you to the boys, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t sleep under it sometimes.

“Can I lay with you?” He asked, and when you nodded, too tired to speak, he crawled under the blanket with you. “The usual?” You consented, and Marc wrapped you up tight in his arms, leg draped over yours in extra comfort.

Lastly, he whispered more assurances in your ear.

“I’m sorry, baby.”

“I shouldn’t have done that to you.”

“Rest, we’ll talk about it later.”

“Everything is going to be alright.”

And you knew it would be. It always would be between you four. Marc just needed help, and he needed to let you help.

Rough sex was out for now. If you couldn’t trust him to use the safe word, you wouldn’t be putting him or yourself in that position. Slowly, Marc opened up and let you, Steven and Jake in, and slowly things got better. It took time, to be sure, and a lot of work on both your parts to repair the trust that was broken, but you loved Marc and Marc loved you.

In the end, Marc was right. Everything was okay.

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

angsty marc overwhelmingly won my poll. yall like to see a pretty boy cry, huh?

@moonknightly this is the fic i was brainstorming months ago that hurt you so bad lol

@whatthefishh @missdictatorme @ahookedheroespureheart @eyelessfaces @campingwiththecharmings @runa-falls @fandxmslxt69 @k-ra @ivystoryweaver @steven-grants-world @littlenosoul @mikaelak @stevenandmarcslove @pikapuff-316 @del-ightfulling @faretheeoscar @boysddontcry

#marc spector #marc spector x reader #gn!reader #gender neutral reader #moon knight #moon knight fanfiction #moon knight angst #marc spector angst #marc spector hurt comfort #hurt comfort #angst #smut #marc spector x you #marc spector moon knight #jake lockley #moon knight x reader #tw self harm #tw sh #self destructive

[myfandomlikesandstories]

Spaces

Marc spector x gn!reader

Genre: angst, hurt comfort

Summary: Marc has a panic attack and some intrusive thoughts following a simple, innocent request from you.

Warnings: heavy angst and crying, suicidal ideation, mention of Nazis, panic attack, intrusive thoughts, extremely negative self talk.

Word count: 1186

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

Marc and you were lying in bed, cuddling after a long day. You've been together a few years, and been through quite a lot, yet always on each other's side. You were surprised when you heard about his alters, Steven and Jake, but welcomed them into your heart. The three of them, in turn, filled every crack of your heart and mind with their unending love. All four of you became a whole.

Marc's arm was draped across your body, his hair tickling your skin pleasantly. You were pressed very close together. Usually, that would have been wonderful, not too warm or suffocating, but tonight:

"I need some space." You declared, thinking nothing of it. You draped the blanket away from yourself, and Marc scooted back, somewhat confused.

"Okay," he said, nodding lightly but concerned. "Whatever you need, babe." He rolled on his side turning his back to you, and lied down on the far edge of the bed. You were so tired, you didn't notice the shake in his voice, or how he inched farther and farther away from you, until his bent knees were hanging in the air.

"It's cold, here, now." He thought, and didn't understand why his throat was closing up. His body became stiff as the familiar record started to play in his mind. "Just until a moment ago, you were in the warm embrace of heaven. How did you fuck that up? You'll always be alone. Cold and alone. Even the stray dogs won't like you. You always ruin it for everyone. Steven deserves a life, goddamnit! You don't even deserve this bed."

You heard a sharp inhale as a chill went through his body and he shot out of bed. "Sorry." He managed to croak out, eyes filling with tears and he left the room.

Marc's legs carried him to the tiny guest bathroom, where he slid down the wall onto the floor, and closed the door behind him. He couldn't breathe, only in tiny little gasps and whimpers. He buried his head in his knees, trying to muffle his cries into his hand.

"No one will hold that hand again," a thought floated into his head. "You're pathetic. You're nothing. You don't deserve any of this. Look at yourself, disgusting! DISGUSTING!" The word echoed in his mother's voice, making him flinch from the belt that was no longer there.

Tears were now flowing from his tightly shut eyes. "Some space! You're so dramatic, you're such a burden, you're strangling, you're horrible, kill yourself! Give all the world some space from Marc Spector, smallest, shittiest and worst man on earth! You're thinking that, it makes you evil! You want to kill yourself, and you want to kill Steven and Jake too because you're trash! That's why there's Nazis! For you! SOME SPACE!!! THAT'S WHY YOU'RE NOT WANTED! YOU CAN'T EVEN GIVE YOUR ABSENCE!!!"

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

You thought for a second that he just went for a wee, and closed your eyes. You just wanted a few minutes to breathe and cool down, and then you'll turn around and cuddle up to him. You love to press your face into his warm chest.

Wait.

He didn't go to the en-suite.

You opened your eyes, came back to your senses, and heard a muffled cry. Not 5 seconds after, you were banging on the bathroom door, your heart breaking at the uncontrollable sobs coming from inside.

Marc didn't open the door, and you decided it was enough. You warned him, and opened it yourself. Your boyfriend leaped away from you, hitting his head on the tile and squeezing himself to the best of his ability between the toilet and the wall.

"Marc, honey, hey-" you started, crouching down to him.

"That's where I belong." He hiccuped. "The piece of shit that I am." His voice wavered, he gasped sharply and sobbed. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" He pleaded through the tears.

His face was red and wet with tear tracks. His eyes were completely bloodshot and mostly closed, and he was shaking all over. You kneeled in front of him, and took one of his hands in yours. Your other hand went to scratch his soft curls and rake them over. He did it a lot to sooth himself, and you figured it might help.

"I'm here, baby," you told him. "Everything's okay. I love you. I love you, Marc." You moved your hand to cup his cheek and caress it, and saw that he was continuously mouthing the words "I'm sorry" through his anguished expression.

"It's okay. It's okay, honey. I promise. It's alright." You reassured him, and pressed his hand to your lips for a quick kiss. That drew loud, ugly cry from him. "Try to breathe with me, hun." You said and moved his hand to your chest, to feel your deep breaths.

He tried, bless his soul he tried, and ended up coughing and choking on his own tears, causing him to sob even harder. "I- Ah- I'm sorrrryyyyy" he whimpered miserably, so deep in his self flagellation he couldn't stop apologizing. For crying. For making a fuss. For not giving you space. For not being able to give you space. For making excuses. For existing.

"Okay," you took a deep breath for yourself and sighed with determination. "Let's get you up." You said and grabbed your boyfriend from under his arms. He grasped onto your arms to steady and pull himself up, as much as he could on his shaky legs.

You kissed his forehead, and the spot of his head he accidentally hit. You kissed his knuckles, and where he bit down on his hands. You kissed his cheeks, and his nose. That made him smile. You kissed his lips, which induced a fresh wave of tears, and then you kissed those as well.

Eventually, you got the both of you safely to bed. Marc looked horrible. Well not that he could really, being Marc, but he certainly looked like he was feeling horrible. At least it seemed as if the journey across your home shook him up enough to get his bearings. He was starting to realize what was going on, that none of his terrifying, intrusive thoughts were real, and that he had his very loving and loved partner right next to him.

Marc was starting to calm down. Loud, painful sobs reduced into sniffles. He probably disassociated a bit, as managing these attacks was still hard for him. But he had you. You laid him in bed, covered his shaking body and helped him take his slightly sweaty shirt off. You gave him a box of tissues from your nightstand to wipe his runny nose and tear stained face with. You hugged him when he clung to you like his life depended on it. Maybe it really was. Damn. You really fucking love him. Through EVERYTHING. And he loves you so, so much too.

He was safe, loved, cared for, important, appreciated, and for the first time in his life, thought he might deserve to feel that way.

You were each others' safe spaces.

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

MASTERLIST

Just tagging some mutuals, no pressure!

@ivystoryweaver @writingforcurrentobsessions2 @romanarose @my-secret-shame @luke-o-lophus @spider-starry @eyelessfaces

#moon knight #my post #angst #fanfic #moon knight fanfic #hurt/comfort #marc spector #marc spector x reader #marc spector x male reader #marc spector x gn reader #moon knight fanfiction #moon knight angst

[bluebirdsboi]

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

Fandom: MCU

Genre: Hurt Comfort, Smut

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

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

Word Count: 1,002

~ Requests are open ~ Taglist is open

!! MINORS DO NOT INTERACT !!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

- End - 

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

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

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

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

[oddballwriter]

Read Me to Sleep

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[pinchofhoney]

just one word

gif is not mine, credit to the owner

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

word count: 3.8k

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

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

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

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

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

tag list: @wolfmoonmusic​

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

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

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

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

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

He glanced up at the ceiling and tried again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#moon knight #steven grant #steven grant x reader #steven grant x you #steven grant x y/n #marc spector #marc spector x reader #marc spector x y/n #marc spector x you #oscar isaac #oscar isaac x reader #oscar isaac x you #oscar isaac x y/n #you #x reader #x you #fluff #angst #hurt/comfort #marvel

[luke-o-lophus]

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

[trickster-jpeg]

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

[stevenssacrab]

Pathetic

⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ✧ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ*

Summary: Steven forgets a vital anniversary dinner, and a fight ensues, both of you saying things you'll regret, and when you truly learn what life is like without Steven, he returns

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: Depressed reader, arguing, reader and Steven being very mean to each other

Word Count: 1.6k

a/n: First fic ever! Hope y'all like it, I worked very hard on it and overthought a lot of course lol. I'm open to suggestions on how I can improve, please be nice though I'm a sensitive girl, I will cry about it lmao

⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ✧ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ*

It started with something minor: Steven forgetting to put his clothes in the laundry basket, not putting his dishes back, or something as simple as not using a coaster on the coffee table. Usually, you would brush it off, but today was the breaking point; Steven had forgotten your anniversary dinner.

You waited for hours, but after a few hours, you knew he wasn't coming home anytime soon. After a certain point, you didn't see a reason to still be dressed, changing into one of Steven's hoodies, missing his calm scent. You decided to heat up some disappointing leftovers compared to the lovely dinner you thought you'd be enjoying by now; you were cleaning up the kitchen when you heard the front door open. Sighing deeply, preparing yourself for the argument you knew was coming.

Steven's heavy footsteps are heard sauntering towards the kitchen, each step making you more anxious than the last. He rounds the corner, not even meeting your eyes, just tossing his lunch back into the fridge.

"Well?" you said, clearly annoyed that he hadn't spoken a word since walking in.

"Well what Y/N?" he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, already at his wit's ends

You scoff, smiling in disbelief. "Honestly, Steven, do you even know what day it is today?" a not-so-subtle dig at his current mental state. Steven looks up at you pitifully, clearly not wanting to fight, but you're way past that. "Steven, we had dinner planned tonight," voice a little louder than intended. "Can't you just get your head on straight for one day and remember our plans?" you say, throwing your hand towel on the counter; you walk around the kitchen island, not breaking eye contact.

"Y/N, please, I don't wanna do this today; Donna was on my ass all day; I really can't do this right now."

"Steven you do this every time, anytime I want to talk to you, you never have time for me." throwing your hands up in frustration.

"Y/N" he says, warning you; he looks into your eyes with an intensity you've never seen before

"No Steven! Why do you alwa-"

"STOP!" he booms loudly, slamming his fist on the counter. "Do you ever stop!? It's never enough for you," he says, stepping closer to you, looking down at you, making you feel 2 inches tall. "Do you think you're the only one trying?" he says with venom laced in every word. "How about the little effort you put in, and I'm always the one in the wrong?" stepping even closer, slowly backing you into a corner.

You've never seen Steven this angry; he's usually so sweet, caring, and understanding; seeing him like this was terrifying.

"Stev-" you squealed out.

"NO Y/N! YOU LISTEN TO ME, ALRIGHT" he hissed out, eyes wide and body tense. "I've had enough; I'm never gonna be enough for you, am I?" he barked, lowering his head.

"I can't do this anymore; I'm done," he said quietly. He was looking down at the floor, avoiding your eyes once again.

"What?" you asked, afraid of the answer, reaching out your hands to hold him, but he only swats your hands away.

"I'm done; I can't do this anymore. You're pathetic," he declared, looking at you as if you were the scum of the earth.

"Wait, Steven, please just listen to me," you pleaded, following behind him as he headed out the door. "STEVEN!" you cried, tears rolling down your face.

Steven starts his car, ignoring your cries, pulling out of your driveway, tears threatening to boil over.

You just stood in the doorway, watching him drive away, in denial that this is happening. Could this really be the end? You think back to all the times you complained to Steven that he was never doing enough for you, that he never had time for you, accusing him of never loving you. You slowly close the door, knees finally giving out from under you, wondering how they've kept you up this long; you pull your knees to your chest, holding onto them for dear life. You let out a sob that you're positive your neighbors could hear, but that was the least of your worries.

You don't know when, but at some point, you went to bed; when you woke up, you had almost forgotten what had happened, and more tears filled your eyes at the thought of never seeing Steven again.

You reached for your phone, attempting to call Steven. It rang once and went straight to voicemail, "he's avoiding me," you admitted sadly. "Hey, this is Steven. You know what to do, later gators." You smiled at Steven's cute little phrase, recalling every time you ended a call with him. Mentally scolding yourself for letting something so beautiful go, someone who loved and cherished you wholeheartedly.

The past few days have been debilitating; everything reminds you of Steven; every thought leads back to Steven, and all roads lead back to Steven. Food has tasted bland, flavorless, and unpalatable; you stopped craving food after the first day, eating strictly for your survival and well-being. All the color has left the world, leaving everything dull and achromic; every conversation has been quick and compressed, not having the energy to carry out an entire conversation or participate in society. Everyone around you has noticed you're less cheerful than you used to be, and everyone has physically pointed it out to you.

"Hey, are you okay? You seem kinda down?" Or "Did something happen?"

It's been driving you crazy; yes, you know you're depressed. Why must everyone point it out as if you don't feel it yourself? It's made you very snappy at everyone, chewing out anyone who dares to ask; word got out that you and Steven broke up, then started the looks of pity. Any time you met anyone's eyesight, they would give you a glimpse of sympathy and a sad smile; you almost preferred them asking if you were okay over the pity smiles and whispered conversation when they think you're out of earshot.

Today was your day off. Luckily, on these days, you choose to lay in bed all day, looking at old photos of you and Steven and weeping when it all becomes too much.

You were lying in bed when you heard your doorbell ring; you groaned loudly and crawled out of bed; you sighed deeply, not mentally prepared to have a conversation with someone right now. You throw open the door, already annoyed at whoever is at your door; you look up and see Steven standing in front of you, not looking any better than you, to your surprise.

"Hey," he uttered, looking at the ground. "Can we talk?" he said, looking at you with pleading eyes. "Please," he says when you don't answer.

"Y-Yeah, come in," you utter, stepping back, feeling your heart beat out of your chest.

"Thank you," he said, walking up timidly, nodding his head shyly, stepping quickly, afraid you might change your mind; you're blinking your eyes to make sure he's actually in front of you and not hallucinating.

He sat on your gray couch, shifting every few seconds and running his sweaty palms on his pants, notably very uncomfortable. You walk around the sofa and sit in a loveseat across from him, afraid he'll leave if you get too close.

He clears his throat before speaking. "I-" he stutters out, not knowing where to begin; he reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a piece of paper.

"Y/N, I know I've said some truly awful things to you, and I deeply regret what I've said; I feel awful how everything played out, and there were much better ways to redirect my emotions and not take them out on you. My actions are unforgivable, and I take full responsibility. In the future, instead of lashing out unfairly at you, I will do my best to communicate properly and not keep how I feel buried inside. I understand I can't fix everything, but if you let me, I'll spend the rest of my life trying to make up for my mistakes and make things right." He said, voice cracking, and cleared his throat awkwardly, folding the paper and putting it into his back pocket.

You are stunned, not knowing what to say; you play with your fingers nervously.

"Oh, Steven," you say, gently grabbing his hands and moving next to him on the couch. Steven tightly grips your hands, scared you'll slip through his fingers.

"I feel like I should be apologizing to you, sweetie," you say softly, raising your hand to cup his cheek. Steven, smiling softly at the affectionate name, leans into your touch, gently grabbing your hand and kissing the palm. Your cheeks heated up slightly at the display of affection.

"I can't even begin to tell you how sorry I am." You blinked away the tears. "I took you for granted, my love; I promise you as long as I live, I will treat you like the king you are," you say, looking deep into his dark brown eyes. Steven's eyes fill with tears; he pulls you into a tight hug, letting the emotion take over as he lets out a sob, hugging you tighter than before.

You caress Steven's back and let him cry. "I'm so sorry Y/N" he whimpered, body shaking violently.

"It's alright, my love." You pull back, meeting Steven's eyes.

Steven pulls you into a passionate kiss, holding onto you as if his life depended on it; you grip his shirt and pull him in to deepen the kiss, your heart beating out of your chest; you roam your hands on his chest and stomach, sliding your cold hands underneath Steven shirt. He gasps softly, pulling away from you.

"I love you Y/N" he says confidently, never being more sure in his life.

"I love you too Steven."

#moon knight #moon kingdom #steven grant #oscar issac imagine #oscar issac hernandez estrada #oscar issac fic #marvel #marvel smut #marvel x reader #steven grant hurt/comfort #steven grant angst #steven grant fluff #jennys.work

[bensolosbluesaber]

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

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. I hope you all enjoy this!

--

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

Taglists (Want to be added? Click here.)

**This is a mess. Some people won’t tag. I’ve definitely missed people. I’m so so sorry!

MK Taglist: @love-on-the-murder-scene @bookfrog242 @irethepotato @graciexmarvel @simonsbluee @nagemasstuff @whovian378 @cringingmemeries @eerievixen @velyssaraptor @lethalbeautiful @mixerya92 @marrigold-2002 @sugarpunch-princess @slytherheign @simping-master-69 @bristark616 @kotonei-molyneux @slasherssexslave @luna-maximoff-22 @fantasy-is-best @dd242 @harrys-tittie @fandomgal64 @7minutes-tomidnight @deliciousblackfatcat @rqmanoff @xzombiealicex @awkward-d3rs3-dr3amer @femalemarvelself @hopefulfangirl24 @ale0m @a1tbunny   @in-between-the-cafes @leh2393 @coffee-prince-kyungsoo @hopefulfangirl24 @hb8301 @mrsxreeves @alicetweven  @woofgocows @blulemonades @alicetweven   @queenie-rebel @snowinseptember @copingchaos @n1ght5h4d3-24 @chickenfoot6969 @splashofbi @maplemind @death-by-teacup @littlenosoul @local-mr-frog @knopewyattworld @paintmekala @chaoticevilbakugo @sparkythefallen1 @bex-tk1 @rellasnowheenim @huitzilinthebudgie3 @brookiebarnes  @aduckinpain @ashes-136667

MK Taglist who I’m having trouble tagging: @parkeeepingparker @hoe4fiction @1337animeami @stxrielle @kezibear @stark-kirk-rogers-grant-blog @welcometostayingawake @jvstjewels  @laters-gators12 @infinityparadoxloop @wolf-phoenix-lover

Other people who interacted with part 1: @spider-biter @brekkers-desigirl @elliaze @thescarletredwitch @calicokitkat @stargazingcarol @jupitersmoon167 @virtie333 @juneknight

Feel free to message me if you want taken off a list or untagged from this post!

#moon knight #moon knight x reader #moon knight x f!reader #oscar isaac #oscar isaac x reader #oscar isaac x f!reader #jake lockley #jake lockley x reader #jake lockley x f!reader #marc spector #steven grant #steven grant x reader #steven grant x f!reader #marc spector x f!reader #marc spector x reader #moon knight hurt/comfort #moon knight angst #marc spector hurt/comfort #marc spector angst #bensolosbluesabermasterlist #bensolosbluesaber #someone like you #mcu #marvel

[loki-hargreeves]

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

[romanarose]

Protected

Jake Lockley x fem!reader

Masterlist : Join my taglist!

Summary: Jake is trying to relax at a bar when a woman won't leave him alone. Confused as to what's happening, Jake isn't sure how to react. Men don't hit women, right?

Warnings: Depiction of sexual assault (over the clothes gentile touching), reader gets aggressive with other women. Jake has old fashioned, patriarchal notions of paying for women's drink, that he shouldn't assert his boundaries, that he can't be assaulted because he's a man and she's a woman, blaming himself. Men have a right to protect themselves from violence of any sort with proportional means. Protect men. Reader mentions trauma, illuding to rape. Reader isn't exactly "safe" with going out, but neither am I know I'm "supposed to" go with friends, no walk off with strangers etc. but I won't live my life afraid. My assaults have been from people I was supposed to trust, every single time. Strangers don't scare me.

Immersabily: Fem reader. Reader mentions past sexual trauma. reader mentions working with children. At one point, Jake mentions reader being shorter than a woman taller than Jake so??? IDK if that's anything lol. Could mean anything IG.

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

Jake Lockley respected women. Jake Lockley didn’t hurt women. Jake Lockley wasn’t rude to women.

That made his current position complicated.

He’d just come to this bar to drink for a bit, to get away from his alters for a bit. He loved them and he loved the new relationship with Steven and Marc, but he needed peace and alone time. Well, not totally alone. When he was totally alone, Khonshu liked to talk to him like they were friends or something, that’s not what he wanted, so Jake went to a karaoke bar.

 He liked it, honestly. It was fun seeing people’s personalities come out in the songs they sang, he liked watching people get more and more drunk, strangers becoming friends, people singing way out of their key as the night went on. Some people hated watching others do karaoke but Jake thought it was fun. It was people’s truest selves. He liked to watch the show, drink a little but also keep an eye on things. No one was getting roofied or assaulted on his watch.

As people got drunker, a very unsteady woman got on stage (barely) and tried to rap to Without Me by Eminem. It did not go well. It wasn’t terrible, she knew th lyrics down pat but 1. She could not rap for the life of her 2. She was very giggly and kept laughing. The smiling DJ kept taking the second mic and filling in for her while she laughed. It was adorable. 

That was his first impression of you.

The night went on and he noticed you weren’t with friends. A bold move, going out alone. You were brave. He liked that. He tried to keep a special eye on you but it was proving difficult and you were beginning to stress him out. You’d leave drinks with random people asking the girls to watch it. How did you know they could be trusted? He followed you outside when you stumbled off with people you were talking too, only to find you smoking in an alley. What the hell is wrong with you? You were going to get yourself killed. Right now, you were his main focus.

Until you left to use the bathroom, leaving your drink on a table and Jake attempted to walk toward it to make sure no one spiked it when another women intercepted him. “Hi handsome, what’s your name?” She smiled at him, looking down a bit. She was tall. Jake didn’t mind his women taller than him; he liked his women however they came, but she seemed to be positioning herself to intentionally intimidate him.

“Jake.” He needed to get over to watch your drink, but when he tried to step to the side, she stepped along with him and blocked his path. It was when she put a hand on his chest he grew uncomfortable.

“My name’s Cas, why don’t we head to the bar and you buy me a drink?”

Jake was about to object. He needed to get to you, but he didn’t have much of a choice when she grabbed his tie and pulled him. She ordered two vodka cranberries. Jake didn’t like vodka. Why was he paying? That’s what he did, right? He was supposed to pay. He was supposed to entertain beautiful women -and she was beautiful for sure. 

He wasn’t entirely sure how she got him in this position, but he wasn’t doing much to fight it. He was backed into corner and the woman was kissing him. He didn’t like it. Jake’s stress was compounded by the anxiety that he couldn’t see your drink, he couldn’t see you. Did something happen? Did someone spike the drink because Jake wasn’t watching? He wasn’t watching because he was horny? 

He didn’t want to kiss her, but when she ground her body against his, the natural reaction was to get hard. He fought it, fought it, fought it but his will power was no match for biology. Jake felt like fucking shit. His body was stiff, he wasn’t kissing back, he kept trying to move away but his efforts were weak. She was strong, and it wasn’t like he could push her or hit her. Only weak men hit women, right?

When he turned, he locked eyes with you. Little did he know, you had been watching much of the scene play out. It wasn’t entirely clear what was happening, as the crowd of karaoke fridays kept blocking your view, but you’d grown concerned when you saw him in a corner and went to investigate. One of the girl’s you’d met and had been chatting with told you not to worry about it, that the man could handle himself… but after all you’d been through, you never wanted someone to go through that.

Then you see it. The woman’s hand went to cup his crotch, and the panic on the man’s face that had locked eyes with yours was clear. He tried to gently nudge her away, to squirm out of her grasp but she didn’t move. So you did.

The violation on his body got him moving a bit, disgust at himself for letting them happen. Not because it was his boundaries, his body, his autonomy, but because the body was Marc and Steven’s, and he was letting someone touch Marc and Steven. He wasn’t protecting them, he was failing them, but he still couldn’t manage to get her off him without hurting her. 

“I don’t-” He tried to protest, but she shushed him.

“Yes, you do.”

Did he?

Before he had time to think more, Cas was ripped off of him, and another body was placed in between. 

You stared the woman down, glaring daggers into her eyes; although shorter than her, you show no fear. All night, you’ve shown no fear.

“What the hell is wrong with you!” You shout at her.

“Me?” The woman gahawfs. “You’re interrupting a perfectly good-”

“He’s clearly uncomfortable!”

“He’s a big boy, he can handle himself.”

“Well he doesn’t have to, because I’m handling it, now get the fuck out of here!”

Cas looks at Jake, glaring at him and flipping him off before walking away. Jake wasn’t entirely sure what he did, but whatever it was, it was wrong.

Once she left, you turn to the man again. He looks in shock. “Can we step outside?” 

Silent, Jake nods and you take him hand, carefully guiding him to the alley where you pull up two crates for you both to sit on. Both his hands are in yours now.

“I need you to breathe with me, okay, in your nose, out your mouth.” Your voice calms him. It’s only then that he realized he wasn’t calm. Jake was having a panic attack. You continued instruction. “I’m going to squeeze our hands as I breath in, but if you need to squeeze at any time, you can. Hard as you need to, you won’t hurt me.”

You did just as you said. As you breathed in, You gently squeezed his hands, letting go as you breathed out. It helped him keep in time when the panic made blood rush to his ears. He couldn't hear you, but he could feel you. Jake certainly wasn’t going to squeeze as hard as he could -his strength could actually hurt you, despite what you said- but he did give a few good squeezes and although his were random and erratic, yours remained steady. Jake latched onto that steadiness, beginning to squeeze in time with you until he was calm.

After a few moments of silence, Jake spoke. “Where’d you learn that?” He didn’t fully look at you, but you could hear the smile in your voice.

“I work with preschoolers. It’s a great way to teach them to manage their emotions…” You pause a little before adding. “Well, I guess I learned it from myself. Breathing exercises were the only way to calm myself down for a while.”

With that, Jake locked eyes with you. “You’ve had… you’ve felt like that before?”

You nod. “Yeah. Especially when random people touch me. What happened to you, has happened to me, so touch can be very triggering.”

That caught his attention. Jake was no stranger to rape victims; he’d killed plenty rapists in his day… but this still mad him feel pity. You were kind, and it made him sad to think that you’d felt like he did now.

“Someone did that to you?”

“Multiple people.” You confirm. “Sometimes it ended at a bar or a party, sometimes it ended… much worse.”

Jake felt anger in his confusing mix of emotions. He wanted to track down every single person who did that to you and end them, violently. “Is that why you…”

“Stepped in? Kinda. I’d hate for anyone to feel like I did.” Your smile was kind and warm. “But I’ve always been like that. A little crazy.” Crazy is how you’d put it.

Jake nodded, only then realizing he was still holding your hand. “Sorry.”

“That’s okay.” You reassure him before finally telling him your name.

“Jake”

“Well Jake, I assume after all that you don’t want to go inside. Can I walk you home?”

Absolutely insane, you were just trusting him like this… but he really didn’t want to be alone right now. “I drove. I only had one drink… if you’d like I can drive you home?”

You smiled. “I’d like that. What’s your last name?”

“Lockley.”

“Okay, Lockley. Stay here.”

You went inside, coming out and handing him his ID.

Now Jake was confused. “I- what?”

“Your tab.” You explained. “I paid it.”

Jake had never had a woman pay for his drink before. The only person he ever let get away with it was Matty, and that was on a good day.

“But-... I can pay my own tab?” He tried to protest, as if it wasn’t already paid.

“I’m sure you can.” Gathering up his hands in yours again, you pull him to his feet. “It’s just one drink, no big deal. I didn’t want you to have to see her again.”

Having a woman pay for his drink should make him embarrassed. A woman assaulting him should make him feel embarrassed. But you? You calmed all that. A drink wasn’t a big deal to you, but most importantly, you validated his feelings. You didn’t make him feel weak for feeling how he did. 

It was okay to be human with you.

You protected him, and he wanted to spend the rest of his life returning the favor.

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

I just wanna protect Jakey and make him feel saaaaaaaafe.

he deserves it.

@missdictatorme @ahookedheroespureheart @whatthefishh @runa-falls @del-ightfulling @eyelessfaces @fandxmslxt69 @pikapuff-316 @mikaelak @k-ra @ivystoryweaver @campingwiththecharmings @littlenosoul @stevenandmarcslove @steven-grants-world @boysddontcry @harriedandharassed @lokisv7lkrie @scarletthefierce

#jake lockley #jake lockley x reader #moon knight #moon knight fanfiction #jake lockley x you #comfort #hurt comfort #jake lockley hurt comfort #protective Jake Lockley #soft jake lockley

[myfandomlikesandstories]

Need You Now

Marc Spector x GN reader

Genre: fluff, hurt comfort

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

Warnings: Marc drinking

Word count: 1437

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Hello?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yeah, goodnight." He said.

"Goodnight."

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

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

"Yeah?"

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

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

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

"Marc? You there?"

"I'm sorry."

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

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

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

You heard him take a sharp, shaky breath.

"I need you."

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

Here it comes, he braces himself for impact.

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

Marc was stunned. "Really?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Just tagging some mutuals:

MASTERLIST

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

#my post #moon knight fanfiction #moon knight #fanfic #fluff #angst #hurt comfort #drinking #moon knight x male reader #moon knight x reader #moon knight fanfic #moon knight x you #moon knight x y/n #moon knight x gender neutral reader #moon knight x gn reader #moon knight x gn!reader #moon knight fluff #moon knight angst #marc spector x reader #marc spector x you #marc spector x male reader #marc spector x gender neutral reader #marc spector x gn!reader

[bluebirdsboi]

Solace | Marc Spector x Male Reader

Fandom: MCU

Genre: Hurt Comfort

Paring: Marc Spector x Male Reader

Warnings: Mentions of drinking, Mentions of violence

Word Count: 677

Requests are open

** This work does not use (Y/n) and has a vague allusion to the reader’s gender, but this is intended for people who identify as male *

Marc’s contract with Konshu took a palpable toll on your relationship. He was always leaving in the middle of the night, has gradually become distant as time passed, and was coming back with a grim or dejected expression accompanied by what you hoped wasn’t blood on his skin and clothes whenever he got home. You’ve been dating for around five months now, and you began noting these patterns roughly a month or two into your living together. Eventually, you finally told him you had had enough and he sullenly explained his dealings with Konshu. When he finished, all you could do was hold him close and reassure him that everything will be alright.

Presently, you stayed late after work and weren’t able to get home until well into the evening. You admired the beautiful hues of orange and pink that painted the sky while making your way home; the scenery juxtaposing what was waiting for you at home.

You opened the door to your home, met by the sight of the interior left almost exactly how it was earlier, the only difference being the door to your shared room had been left ajar. “Marc, you home?” you called out as you closed the front door and set your things in their place; however, you received no response. The stillness of the air alongside a deafening silence stirred an apprehensive sensation in your chest, especially since Marc should have been home about now. “Marc?” you tried again, this time skulking closer to the bedroom. Gently opening the door, you were struck with a scene that completely shattered your heart. There in front of you was Marc, sitting on the floor against the bed in only shorts with a bottle of whiskey that had around a fourth of its contents remaining sitting within arm's reach.

He turned his head to look at you, letting out a sigh, realizing how he must have looked. “Hey, honey.” Marc’s tone held its signature raspiness with an added layer of despondency. After his somber greeting, he turned his head back, unable to face you. In response, you walked deeper into the room to have a better look at your boyfriend, still attempting to comprehend the situation and contemplating how best to console him. Seeing that his head was hung in what seemed as a mixture of shame and guilt, you decided to sit next to him while keeping some distance between you two.

Breaking the silence you began, “Marc-” “Just... save it, okay?” He cut you off, looking up but still averting his gaze. “I know this isn’t how to handle this, but I... I don’t know what to do anymore.” Marc spoke in reference to his arrangement with Konshu, his voice brimming with despair. “I can’t just forget everything I did. Do you know what it’s like having to leave your boyfriend every night and come home to him covered in blood that’s not yours?” He continued, his voice laced with a color (colour) akin to a passionate sadness. You gently placed a hand on Marc’s shoulder in response. He flinched and sharply turned his head to you but gradually relaxed, leaning his head onto your shoulder so you could fully wrap your arm around him. 

After giving Marc time to quell his charged nerves and settle into your touch, you spoke up, “I couldn’t begin to imagine what you have to go through every night, but all of this is Konshu taking advantage of you. Nothing more.” Your words began to soothe him evidenced by the loosening tension in his shoulders. “I doubt being forced to kill every day is easy, but please come and talk to me next time, okay?” Marc let out a hum of agreement, too emotionally drained to let out any words. The room fell into a comfortable silence before Marc asked, “Hey, hon?” “Yes?” Marc could only speak two words that expressed his sentiment, “Thank you.” Your response was to hold him ever so slightly tighter, draw and release a deep breath, and simply say, “Always.”

- End -    

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ A/N: Hey, so it’s been a very long time since I’ve posted on here. I’m sorry for my long hiatus, but I do intend on writing more now that I have more time. I’m posting this oneshot just to get myself back into the swing of things, so I apologies if this isn’t as good as it could be but I’m working on some requests right now so there are those to look forward to. 

I will be making a sort of overhaul to my blog which is mostly just adding a guide post and breaking up my masterlist into individual ones, so that will be either the bulk or entirety of my post tomorrow. I’ve also been finalizing some character details for my second blog, AO3 and Wattpad so I can start working on two of the stories I have planned. 

That’s all for the current updates at the moment, so as always, thank you for reading <3

#explore #marvel #mcu #marc spector #marc spector x male reader #moon knight #moon knight x male reader #marvel x male reader #male reader #x reader #marc spector x reader #moon knight x reader #marvel x reader #hurt/comfort

[winniethewife]

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

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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

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