Cry (MK Spring Bingo #1)
Marc Spector x Reader
cross-posted to ao3
tags: panic/anxiety attacks, possibly inaccurate description of an emergency room visit (i don't remember the exact process i borrowed from my own experience bc i was sick… in the ER…), no use of y/n
wc: 1,356
fic summary: Three times Marc told you it was okay to cry, and one time you returned the favor.
A/N: Finally got around to writing something for someone besides jake lockley, bless. once again this is self-indulgent, but if anything hits home for you i'm glad <3 (based on Adam Melchor's "Cry" , which is the most marc-coded piece of music i've ever heard. in this essay i will)
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The first time came out of nowhere.
Nothing was wrong per se; no major injury or crisis had come up. All you knew was that you were frozen in the corner of your room, hot tears streaming down your face as your mind raced between a million different things.
“Sweetheart, have you seen my–” Marc’s request stopped the moment he saw you frozen in the darkened room, gripping the sleeves of your shirt as you bit your lip so hard you risked giving yourself another reason to cry.
“I just need a minute,” your voice came out trembling and heavy, as if too many syllables would cause the tears to fall with greater force. Not that you knew how to stop them, or how they even started.
Quick strides across the room brought Marc to your side. His warm hands wrapped around yours, cold and losing color from digging into your arms.
Words were never his strong suit; Marc’s a man of few, usually letting his presence and actions suffice. So when faced with consoling you against some invisible threat, he could almost hear the sound of his own heart breaking in tandem with your staggered breath.
So he stood there. Until your fingers relaxed and entwined with his, he stood there until he could guide you to the floor. Arms wrapped around your shoulders, he cradled you as you continued to cry.
“This is so stupid,” you groaned as you wiped your face with your sleeve. “So fucking… ugh.”
“Hey,” he shushed you. “Not stupid. You’re feeling what you’re feeling.”
“But I don’t know why,” you choked out. It was hard enough being so distraught; not having a valid reason for it made everything hurt more.
“You don't have to justify it. Don't have to do anything but just… be here.” A hand to your temple eased your head against his chest. “I'm here, as long as you need me to be.”
This was all the permission you needed to let another rush of tears spill down your cheeks, soaking his shirt. He didn't mind.
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The second time was in the emergency room.
You'd never struggled to catch your breath like this before; a common cold turned south and triggered long-dormant childhood asthma, making your lungs betray the rest of your body. Marc drove you to the ER when your hollow coughing didn't let up for the third day in a row. Head spinning and chest aflame, you were rushed to the back as soon as Marc told them you couldn't breathe.
“You've got to breathe steady, honey.”
“I'm trying,” you muttered around the medicated tube in your mouth. It had to be almost 3 in the morning; your body ached like crazy and you didn't catch a word of what the nurse told you to do with your medication. All you knew was that you were cold, exhausted, and grateful to have Marc there to time your breathing.
But even with his hand holding yours, you still felt tears pricking the corners of your eyes. Every inhalation brought medicine to your airways, but the ragged sensation resonated through your chest and made your body ache more.
“I'm so tired,” you finally said around the device. With that, your tears fell faster than you could swipe at them. Your frown pushed the device from your mouth, but you didn't care.
Marc sprang up, catching the equipment when your grip faltered. He said nothing; instead, he climbed onto the bed with you, leaning your back against his chest and taking your hand in his once more, bringing the medication back to your lips. You let him bear your weight, immediate relief washing over you as he took over keeping the device steady with one hand and gently dabbing a tissue at your cheek with the other.
“Nothing wrong with a few tears, honey. Means you’re alive.”
When you finally went home, the fire in your lungs extinguished, he held you again until you fell asleep.
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“.....The movie just started.”
(The third time was on the living room couch.)
You had finally talked Marc into watching La La Land with you (with the promise of his getting to choose the next movie night film, of course). You were barely 30 seconds into the opening number when you'd started crying, eyes glued to the screen as dozens of up-and-comers danced and sang about their dreams to make it in the industry.
“They haven't said anything.”
“They're saying everything.”
“He's dancing on a car.”
“Because he's excited!”
“Why did they stop traffic to dance?”
You didn't hear the rest of his quips, too engrossed in the scene. The colors, the music, and the highly impractical interstate choreography had a way of getting to you ever since you first saw this movie. Meanwhile, Marc sat with his arms crossed and eyebrows knit together as he tried to follow along.
When you noticed his body language, you reached for the remote and paused the movie. “Do you… want to watch something else?”
Marc's face fell when he realized this new batch of tears wasn’t because of the movie, but because of him. The thought of making your cry hit like a punch to the gut.
He took the remote from you, moving closer to your side. “Nice try, but you're not getting out of it that easily. I need your commentary if I'm gonna keep up.” He hit play and choked down every criticism as he saw your face light up, tears of joy brimming during the remaining 2 hours of the film.
The next morning, while making breakfast, you could have sworn you heard Marc humming Another Day of Sun under his breath.
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As you'd grown closer, you began to know Marc as your rock, your steady landing place when you had thoughts and feelings too big to deal with on your own. He never had to say much to be there for you. He kept you tethered and together, happy to be of service no matter how ugly your hardships felt.
It was only a matter of time before you saw a crack in his foundation.
You got home late one night, a thunderstorm hot on your heels. You had shrugged off your coat and shoes, calling out to Marc to see if he was home. No response.
You checked each room diligently, until you found him sitting on the corner of the bed.
“Marc?” You asked softly, walking toward him. You knelt in front of him, and the sight of his face twisted into an unfamiliar expression, a steady stream of tears spilling from his reddened eyes, was more than you could bear.
The first time came out of nowhere.
“Can you give me your hands, Marc?” He complied, his breath short and his eyes fixed on the storm pelting the window with sheet after sheet of rain. His vision darted between drops of water and streaks of lightning. The room shook with the echoes of thunder as the worst of the storm hit.
“Hey,” you urged him. “Just be here. With me.” Your thumb traced his wrist as you tried to stay calm. “Can you breathe with me, Marc?” You sat up on your knees. He nodded, slowly but surely matching the pace of your breath.
You didn't know what was on his mind, only that it was racing. You couldn't tell what had him so worked up, only that his breath escaped him even as you counted to ten again, and again, unrelenting in your focus on him. You had no idea what made your rock, your anchor, cry like this.
Maybe he'd tell you later; maybe it'd remain a mystery. None of that mattered in the moment. All that mattered was the rhythm of your breath as the rain let up; the way his tears drenched your sleeves when you dabbed at his flushed cheeks; the steady thrum of his heart as his body relaxed beside yours. All that mattered was how, with your chest pressed to his back as you lay on top of the bedspread, he let you hold him for a change.
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event tags: @moonknight-events @spacecowboyhotch @juneknight
addtl tags: @mrs-lockley @lunar-ghoulie @shadystarlightgentlemen @casa-boiardi (lmk if you'd like to be added/taken off this wee tag list)
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⟢ you took my soul.
➜ in which ! your beauty took their breath away.
💌 ﹫main 4 + butters stotch.
✩ 🎸 warnings﹗none.
🍓 ⟡ notes —
me when subliminals start working, tehehe. based on the jimmy & kyle pretty people drabbles i did. idk what im doing tbh.
*ੈ✩‧₊˚ eric cartman.
hates you.
the guy was so confused about why you looked like you were glowing and why his heart was about to beat out of his chest.
death stared you the entire first week you moved to town.
he later confronts you asking if you do witchcraft. you obviously answer you don't. he thinks you're lying and got plastic surgery.
you say you didn't with like the prettiest smile he's ever seen. he takes your word for it and everyone was shocked.
since then he's been like a parasite who always seems to be stuck with you always there to shoo off anyone irrelevant.
thinks he has asthma bc every time he sees you his breath cuts short and fucking hates himself for "having" asthma.
has tried on multiple occasions to "get rid" of people who bothered you even in the slightest way.
*ੈ✩‧₊˚ kyle broflovski.
is actually so fucking flustered around you.
when he saw you in the cafeteria walking in he couldn't take his eyes off you the entire time, even with his friends calling for him.
if you even give him the slightest hint you're into him, he will take matters into his own hands and just brag to everyone.
for funsies of course.
deffo helps you away from any unwanted eyes, help meaning may literally threaten them in the worst ways possible.
when he's around you its like he's in a daze for him, he just feels like he's on cloud nine and is living the best life ever.
suddenly becomes the most romantic person ever, not that he wasn't already. but like hella cheesy hopeless romantic.
*ੈ✩‧₊˚ stan marsh.
the classic and boring response is a throws up. but he actually doesn't do that contrary to popular beliefs.
he faints instead!
he thought he died since he saw an angel and then his vision went black but he thought hey at least that meant hed be in heaven.
he is stunned when he wakes up in the nurse's office and sees you worried about him of all people.
is like a stuttering mess but he starts slowly but surely relaxing around you, still very nervous talking to you though.
has bragged very purposely in front of wendy that y'all are friends.
while he may not be good at romance, he does try. and by trying i mean he makes u a picnic and brings takeout.
*ੈ✩‧₊˚ kenny mccormick.
ay, he has a heart attack because of you.
kidding. but bro does feel his heart like- stop when he sees you walking down the halls like it's some rom-com movie.
instantly starts making moves on you, no hesitation.
doesn't matter whats going on, if he has the chance, hell take it.
at one point thought you were like his actual guardian angel because he had yet to die after meeting you.
still thinks you are and worships the ground you walk on.
very much one of those "ill do anything for you" but he actually will do anything for you, like seriously. just ask.
*ੈ✩‧₊˚ butters stotch.
surprisingly the most normal of the bunch.
treats you like a normal human being thankfully.
though he does like stutter around you a lot but that calms down and he's usually back to his normal self in like a day or two.
is very much attached to you especially since his parents have
brags so much to the guys and tells them to "suck on these nuts bitch" because you don't hang out with them, ever.
has tried, and failed, to set up a date with you two. cried himself to sleep, and repeated this process for like a week.
it did work. at his house, in front of his parents! but it was kinda fun, you surprisingly got along with them very well.
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