buckysendoftheline

[buckysendoftheline]

mumbattan's one and only pavitr prabhakar!!

prints

[buckysendoftheline]

Yeah, I’ve seen it.

[buckysendoftheline]

Hi could I please request with any of the moon boys afternoon in the public library selecting a lot of books because they keep finding different ones by author's you love and they're carry them all and the elderly lady behind the counter thats been watching says that they are a lovely young man and a keeper. Thank you 💜 😊

Escape (Jake Lockley x reader)

Masterlist | Spotify Playlist | Wanna be tagged?

A/N: EEEE THIS WAS A CUTE IDEA. I had done something similar with the other two babies, so I hope you don’t mind me choosing Jake <3 yes the most unlikely place you’ll find this man is the library but let's go with it hehe.

Word Count: 1.6 k

Love can be blinding, and Jake feels like it is blaring in his ears through sonnets and poems. He learned from you that to love is to not hurt, but to let things be. To love is to be free. Your tender beauty and kindness had been his pride’s undoing. He didn’t realise that his heart got snatched away until it started beating by the song of your own heart.

The first time he met you, nothing in this universe could have prepared him for the blinding reality that he was going to face. He was so caught off guard by your appearance that he seemed to forget his own name. You had flagged down his cab, hair bellowing in the wind as the first droplets of rain hit the windscreen of his cab.

You immediately had struck up a conversation with him, jabbering away about how a crow stole your bagel in the morning. Jake couldn’t help but laugh at your story, letting your soothing voice rub at his hardened edges.

“Here, call this if you ever have another bad day. You don’t have to flag another cab, just give me a call.” Jake found himself saying, slipping you a note along with your change.

“Oh, you’re too sweet, you don’t have to do this!” You sighed but in reality, you wouldn’t know whether you had the willpower to not call him immediately after he dropped you off at the place you needed to be at.

And that’s exactly what you did. Jake Lockley, the handsome cabbie, became one of your closest friends. He had a sense of humour that made you feel at home, you’d always end up laughing a little too hard when Jake would cook up a joke. Soon, you were sitting in the front seat of his cab and he switched out his newspaper boy cap with sunglasses that complemented the vibe of his curly hair. You often found yourself looking longingly at him wherever he would blast the radio and start singing along to your favourite songs.

Today, you asked him whether he wanted to hang out at the library and he immediately texted you a yes, picking you up in less than 20 minutes. Jake watched as you rolled the window down, letting the wind blow in your hair as you smiled blissfully. The weather was tolerable and Jake was extremely happy. Your leg bounced as it usually did and Jake fought the urge to place his hand on your thigh and steady it, instead choosing to grip the steering tighter.

You skipped up the stairs of the library once you got there, and Jake followed you, absolutely mesmerised by the spring in your step. Once you realised that you were getting too far away from Jake, you hung back and took a hold of his hand, surprising him. He lurched forward, his chest colliding with your back. He immediately murmured his apology, still in awe with you.

You breathed in deeply, the scent of the library filling your lungs with a deep memory. Your grandma used to bring you here and read you books and she encouraged your love for them.

“If you wanted to escape, this is the safest way to do it, child.” she used to say and that's what you did every weekend.

Why did you bring Jake with you then?

The question plagued your mind as you pulled him through rows of books, the sound of Jake’s boots thudding against the carpet the only thing keeping you held down to Earth. Slowly, you let go of Jake’s hand and trailed off, absolutely enamoured by the books before you. Jake slowly drifted off too, his headmate begging for him to pull one of the books that he really needed from the shelf.

Jake rolls his eyes and pulls the book before turning to look for you. All his eyes saw were the rows of books, you nowhere in sight. Jake shakes his head and smiles to himself, gently tapping the spine of the book with the palm of his hand. It wasn’t long before he found you. A stack of books were balanced on your hip and supported by one of your arms, the other hand holding a book too close to your face as you scanned the page. You readjusted yourself as one of the books began to slip from the stack and Jake hurried forward.

He eased out the books from your grip and held onto them. You turned and smiled at him, blinking up at him with big eyes that made him feel mushy inside. You stood on your toes and placed the book you were holding on top of the pile Jake was holding, before placing a soft kiss on his cheekbone. Jake’s face flamed red hot. He’d never been kissed on the cheek before and he didn’t know how to react.

“Thanks.” he mumbled and his headmates roared with laughter like an old Hollywood laugh track.

“You’re welcome.” you smiled and turned, walking towards the next shelf, feeling proud of yourself for that move.

“She’s walking you like a dog, mate!” Steven chuckled as Jake began to float behind you again.

“As if you won’t literally pass out if you were fronting.” Jake huffed under his breath.

You frowned at the shelf, realising the book you wanted wasn’t there. You decided to ask Beatrice, the little old lady at the counter to check the records for you. Beatrice was already smiling at you, her favourite regular but there was something odd about her smile.

“Heya, Ms. Bea! I just need a title searched in the system.” you politely asked with a smile.

“Hi, darling, sure.” with a few taps of her keyboard, she announced where the book was and you grinned excitedly, almost uttering your thanks when Beatrice smiled at you again.

“You aren’t going to introduce me to the beautiful boy hiding behind the books?” she asked, and gave you a pointed look and your eyes widened instantly.

“Uh, yea! This is Jake, Jake this is Ms. Beatrice!” you quickly introduced them.

Jake carefully set the books onto the counter and took the lady’s hand, kissing the back of it. Beatrice giggled like a school girl and you gave Jake an exasperated look.

“Oh, dear, I most definitely approve. This one here is a keeper, alright.” Beatrice says and now it was your turn to cosplay a red tomato.

Jake let out a beautiful laugh that ringed deep in your heart.

“Really, trust me, my husband was like you, still is, comes here everyday bringing me lunch. I thought romance was dead but I’m so glad to see it blooming amongst the paths of unsaid words.” Beatrice says, clutching her and to her heart as she looks between the two of you.

Jake and you were frozen to the spot, your eyes as big as owls. You snapped out of it first, thanking Beatrice and pulling Jake with you, who quickly scooped the pile of books in his arms and followed you.

You quickly found your reading corner and sat down, Jake following suit.

“Sorry about Beatrice.” you say after the loud thudding of your heart settled.

“Why are you sorry about Beatrice?” Jake was taken back, out of all the things you could have said, you choose to say that.

“You’re probably weirded out by what she said, about romance and all.” you mumbled, hanging your head.

Jake was still confused at your words, trying to absorb them as silence enveloped the two of you.

“You know what, I really do not know what to say, so I’m just gonna show you.” Jake says, lifting your chin up and leaning towards you before you could make out what was going on.

His lips met yours so gently that you thought he had touched your lips with flower petals. Your eyes were wide open and you struggled to comprehend what was happening. Jake snaked an arm around your waist and pulled you against him, making your mouth drop open with a gentle lick of his tongue. Your eyes fluttered closed and you found yourself losing yourself to the momentum that had been caused by Jake hurling your relationship past the cliff of a very unknown cavern.

You were kissing Jake, you were kissing Jake fucking Lockley.

He pulled away first, keeping his face incredibly close to you.

“Okay, now I know what to say. I’m not the kind that particularly chooses to love romance but I think I’ll be okay if it is with you.” he shrugged. “Besides, I also think I don’t mind you seeing me old and wrinkly like Ms. Bea’s husband.”

You were stunned, this was not the way you intended your day to go. Your eyes welled up in tears and you busied yourself by taking Jake’s hand in yours and kissing his knuckles before holding it close to your chest.

“I was in love with you the second you threw the door of my cab open. Didn’t expect you to call at all, but when you did I felt like I took my heart and threw it at you, to hear your voice through my phone, that was everything to me.” Jake continued, gazing lovingly into your watery eyes.

“I might be in love with you too, Lockley.” you sigh, a teardrop escaping as your eyes closed. “Everynight, you’re in my dreams and you’re my escape.”

Jake let out a breath he didn’t realise he was holding and gathered you close. It was going to take a lot to get him away from you. You soon found yourself with your head in his lap, your longing drifting into pure bliss as his soft poetic voice filled the air with beautiful words.

Reblogs are appreciated ~~~

taglist: @fandxmslxt69 @randomnessfangirl @in-between-the-cafes (where’d she go 🥺) @bodhisattva11 @marc-spectors-wife @nyotamalfoy @steven-grants-world @jbearre85 @whatsliferightnow @minigirl87 @wonderfulboiledcoldpotato @alexxavicry @autismsupermusicalassassin @flordelalunas @marygraceee @bloodredwolfsbane @euphoricosmo @sky-robin @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @sugarpunch-princess @violet-19999 @celiaswife @swiggy-needs-mental-help @ghostheartbeat @kierramofficial @ryebreadsworld @your-voice-is-mellifluous @lil-stark @absolutelybloodyhopeless @mintpurplemnm @spookyysilverr @cookielovesbook-akie @mandoloriancookie @pimosworld

[buckysendoftheline]

Rest

Pairing: Steven Grant x gn!reader

Word Count: 750+

Summary: a sleepy cuddle with Steven

Warnings/Tags: just some cuddling fluff that I think about all the time, not really any description of reader, reader also doesn't talk, trying to keep it as neutral as possible, I don't think there's anything else but let me know if I've missed something

a/n: two posts in one week omg, Happy Holidays bbys😘

･☆: *.☽ .* :☆

There is no sound throughout the flat, only occasionally is the silence broken by pages turning or scribbling of notes. Another evening of research had turned into being up until the early hours of the morning. Steven was hunched over his desk, hyper-focused on researching for a new exhibition that had been announced at his work. Since he’d finally settled back at home—after everything that happened with Marc, Egypt, Khonshu, all of those things that had been addressed—he’d been dying to get back to the museum. Unfortunately, Donna still worked there and everyone still remembered he’d trashed a perfectly good bathroom for no particular reason but luckily London had many, many museums. Steven felt like his luck had finally begun to change when he came across a part-time tour guide position at another fancy museum. Then the manager had loved his enthusiasm and knowledge so much that they’d offered him the job there and then. Now he's been working there for a few months but he was still set on making a good impression, that and he just found learning all of the knowledge therapeutic. There was a deep-seated comfort for Steven in reading over history books, especially on days like today when the streets of London are covered in snow and the flat is so cosy. He is so lost in his reading that he jumps when the floorboards creak, his head whipping around to your shadowy figure. Steven’s entire body softens, his fight or flight instincts calming down when he sees that you’re wrapped up in a blanket, standing a few feet away sleepily looking at him.

“Hi, little star. What’re you doing up?” Steven reaches a hand out to you, while his other removes his glasses and places them down on the desk. You quietly walked toward him, rubbing at your eyes with your blanketed hand and he can’t stop a smile from forming. As soon as you’re close enough Steven wraps his arm around you, looking up at you fondly, “you okay?” You only nod to the question, the memory of sleep still evident in your brain and Steven knows it’s late, so late, and that he should just allow you to drag him back to bed with him but he’s almost done with this chapter. Then you let out the quietest little whine and he almost gives up there and then, “I just have a few more pages love and then I promise I’ll come to bed. I swear.” Of course, you just pout and whine a little more and again he considers just leaving the rest for tomorrow but he’s so close to being done. He just looks between you and the desk a couple times before the idea pops into his head, “come sit with me till I’m done.” You don’t even take a moment to think about it, immediately climbing into Steven’s lap. With his help, you’re straddled in his lap facing him and he’s cupping your face in his hands, thumbs rubbing the tops of your cheeks while he takes a moment just to admire you. He gives your cheek the gentlest kiss as he allows you to make yourself more comfortable, your arms along with the blanket wrapping around his shoulders and your head resting to the side, tucked against your own shoulder and his face. Steven allows himself a minute to just hold you like this, he hadn’t even realised he was a little cold until your warmth was wrapped around him. He appreciates the comfort before he starts to realise how tired he actually is and now he has to fight his drooping eyes as he picks his book up again.

In no time you've dropped back into a slumber cosied up against Steven and he's struggling now. The urge to finish the chapter slipping from him, maybe he's learned enough for one night or maybe he can just rest his eyes for a moment and he'll find the energy to finish. He decides he'll just rest for a minute and he'll be fine. So, he ever so gently nuzzles his head into your neck, the book he'd been so absorbed with abandoned on the desk in favour of wrapping his arms around your body. Then within minutes he completely succumbs to sleep, research forgotten, now all he thinks of is you. Of how warm you are and that you smell so good and that all he wants at this moment is to stay like this forever. To always be this close and comfortable.

[buckysendoftheline]

Steal My Warmth

summary: matt lets you use him as a pillow.

pairing: matt murdock x gn!reader

warnings: none! fluffy fluff here

wordcount: 379

-----

The way Matt loved you was devastating. He ached when you weren’t near, and when you were he found his fingers were always reaching for you to come a little closer. His hands always found themselves wrapped around your midsection, the extra skin letting him steal an abundance of warmth and softness from you.

When you’d asked him if you could slip under the blanket with him on the couch, he told you you didn’t have to ask as he peeled away the thick fluffy cover.

“C’mere.” You try to slot yourself between him and the couch but he pulls you to lay on him directly, your head sinking into his chest as he tucks you in.

“Cozy?” You nodded, feeling his fingers caress your skin, his touch sliding lower and lower after starting at your waist.

“Watch the hands.” He laughs, pressing a kiss to your forehead. He clicks resume on his podcast as you get comfy on his chest and scroll through your phone. Quiet domesticity takes over the apartment, your even breath mirrors his as the two of you soak in each other's presence.

“It should be a crime to be this soft and warm with that much muscle.” You say, poking his abs. He chuckles, pulling your body closer to his.

“Feel free to come steal some warmth more often.” You nuzzle further and he gasps at the feeling of your cold nose pressing against his bare chest. Your eyelids grow heavy and you glance up to Matt, who was listening to his podcast. He looked at peace, his fingers still moving, albeit slowly, across your skin while your head moved up and down gently from his breaths. You smile, your eyes shutting more and more as you finally succumb to sleep with comfort personified who is Matt Murdock.

His attention is drawn to you only when your phone lands face down on his skin, the glass screen chilling his body. He brings his hand up to thread through your hair, dull nails gently scratching at your scalp. With his other hand he pauses his podcast and drops his headphones to the ground quietly. He moves your phone away and pulls the blanket up a bit higher to cover your body.

“Sweet dreams, my love.”

[buckysendoftheline]

Just A Gut Feeling (Marc Spector x Reader x Steven Grant)

Part 2 of the Nosey Neighbor series

Summary: Okay maybe there is a little bit of a problem with how far your curiosity can go, because what used to be just a curious eye kept on your neighbor has you tripping into a rabbit hole that you don’t think you’ll be able to climb out of.

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: Moon Knight Ep.1 Spoilers, Mentions of blood, major bodily injury, cursing

Part 1: Nosey Neighbor

Part 3: Crashing Red Waves

A/N: This is written with little to no prior knowledge about Moon Knight/Marc Spector/Steven Grant other than what was shown in the first episode. After all the fun I had writing the first one, and the positive feedback I received I decided to make it a series!

———————————-

You knew something was going to go wrong, you could feel it in your gut.

You had learned quickly that whenever your gut told you something was right or wrong, it was usually best to just go with it. 

It usually ended up being correct, which was then followed up to people asking you how you were able to guess someone’s name spelling right or if a bar fight was about to happen. It was your party trick, nothing more.

Marc, spelt M-A-R-C. It wouldn’t have been your first guess but you would’ve gotten there eventually.

‘Think you could use those keen eyes of yours to watch over me when I’m not in control?’

Your infatuation with the mystery that was your neighbor was really starting to piss you off.

Keep reading

[buckysendoftheline]

Nosey Neighbor (Marc Spector x Reader)

Summary: There’s nothing wrong with a little curiosity right? So what if you just wanted to know what EXACTLY your neighbor was up to every night during the witching hour, that totally isn’t weird.

Word Count: 3.7k

Warnings: Mention of blood, MoonKnight Ep.1 Spoilers (if you squint)

Part 2: Just a Gut Feeling

A/N: This is written with little to no prior knowledge about Moon Knight/Marc Spector/Steven Grant other than what was shown in the first episode. I wanted to dabble in writing for him, so this is could definitely expand into something more but as of right now it is just a fun analysis basically.

———————–

You were always that person, ever since you were a little kid, to remind everyone of the full rhyme.

Curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back.

You had a knack for noticing and looking for any and all details when it came to anything you found interesting. Your mind couldn’t put down the puzzle until you knew everything you could about it, preferably to the point of solving said puzzle of course.

Which led you to your fascination with your neighbor.

The consensus on your floor was that he was an odd guy. Not only because he seemingly kept to himself, keeping his head down and only giving passing glances but more so because of the so called sketchy vibes he “gave off”. Everyone else described him as odd, weird, and someone to steer clear off. Many of them had either no interaction with him or ones they would rather forget late in the night.

You would describe him as interesting, but maybe that was because of the oh so watchful eye you had.

The first time you were drawn to him genuinely through your own experience and not through word of mouth from judgey neighbors, you were lucky enough to have the night shift at the diner you worked at. Well not so much a night shift but a graveyard shift, leading you to get home at around four or five am.

It was an odd time to get home, many people on the midnight bus were nurses or tired diner workers like yourself. There were a few people that seemingly were just getting finished with their pub crawls, as when the bus doors opened the stench of their alcohol content leaked off them and tainted the sweet dewy smell of the night you had gotten used to. Leaning your head against the condensated window with a huff, you watch the streetlights wiz by and listen to the steady breathing of those around it. It was a calm night from what you remember, nothing out of the ordinary.

That is until you got home.

Keep reading

[buckysendoftheline]

Strawberry Rhubarb

Summary: You get kidnapped by Fisk.

Pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!reader

Warnings (please read this entire list before proceeding!): Violence, blood, forced nudity, physical assault, torture, feelings of inadequacy, torture with knife, strong profanity, burning, stabbing, concussion.

A/N: This is set sometime in S2 when Fisk doesn't know for certain that Matt is Daredevil, but he is suspicious of him and definitely doesn't like him.

Also, it's a bit long, so I skimmed it for mistakes, but that's it. I'm at the airport because I have to fly home for a family emergency and I'm too tired to bother reading through critically lol

Everything was pitch black, except for a thin band of light, directly in front of your eyes.

You squinted, thinking at first that it was light coming underneath the bedroom door; had you left the kitchen lights on? But it was too high up to be the floor. Your phone, then. Your phone must have lit up with a notification and you could just see the light underneath it.

And then you realized there was a cloth around your head. For one wild moment, you thought Matt had put his black mask on you, and that this was something intimate that he was initiating, but something about it didn't feel right. The cloth was wrapped too tightly, for one, and the slit of light that you could see suggested that it was ripped in the center, and Matt's mask had no tears in it. Vaguely you remembered walking into the post office to mail out a letter, and something hitting you hard in the back of the head, but everything else was blank.

A gruff voice spoke. "Is she awake, Hanson?"

"Vitals suggest she's conscious," a cool voice responded. "Should I proceed?"

"Yes. You got into her phone?"

"I had Underwood hack it within five minutes. Passcode has been disabled."

"Good. We'll send a warning to to him. From what I anticipate, he'll be willing to come here of his own accord."

Fisk. Dazedly, you placed the voice as Fisk, and the cooler voice as some unnamed assistant. Your heart lurched, thrumming so hard that you thought it might burst out from your ribcage. All rational thoughts had abandoned you; never had you and Matt discussed what to do if someone ever kidnapped you. Sure, you'd had conversations about self-defense and fighting techniques; there had been the random nights that Matt tried in vain to teach you had to send a proper roundhouse kick at an assailant. And of course you'd nagged him about what the plan was if he was to ever get kidnapped by someone he was trying to take down.

But this scenario? It had never even crossed your mind, and the panic of having no idea what to do was gnawing at you.

The person on your left, with the cooler voice — Hanson — stepped forward and ripped off the black mask that was wrapped around your head. You blinked at the blinding light, unable to see for a moment until your eyes adjusted.

Hanson, a wiry man with a receding hairline, was appraising you. He held your phone, and a thrill of fear flashed through you at what texts or photos might be incriminating on there. "Should I send a video, sir? Or would a phone call be more effective?" he asked.

"Underwood's search of Mr. Murdock's files suggest that he has no light perception, though we're still uncertain as to whether forged notes and doctor intervention could have fabricated those documents," Fisk said, his face twitching. "Send an audio message instead. A picture may be a worth a thousand words, but hearing, on the other hand... that's exponentially more powerful, is it not? To be on the safe side; we want to ensure that Mr. Murdock receives our message."

"Understood, sir."

You closed your eyes as your brain tried to catch up with what was happening. If Fisk kidnapped you, did that mean he knew Matt was Daredevil? You tried futilely to think of a way that he could have found out, but came up with nothing. Matt had pissed Fisk off recently; he'd told you that things had gone sideways when they spoke together, and it ended with fists flying.

But he couldn't know Matt was Daredevil. You told yourself this over and over again in an attempt to calm yourself down. Besides, you didn't have hardly any texts with Matt that they could read, you realized — you had mercifully cleaned out your phone to get more storage just the other day. That also meant you'd saved your photos to a different drive and deleted them off your phone. Hope burgeoned in your chest.

Matt's identity isn't entirely doomed because I was stupid enough to get kidnapped.

"You may begin, Hanson," Fisk said, folding his hands together, and the same lightning strike of panic went to your core.

"Wait." Your mouth was dry from disuse. Playing dumb had to be the best course of action; at least, it was the only plan you could think of in your muddled state. "I can give you money, I swear, I have cash in my wallet — you can take my credit cards, I don't care, please just let me go." The end of your sentence finished with a sob, and you didn't need to act at all for that to come out naturally.

"If Murdock comes on your behalf, then we'll let you go," Hanson said flatly. "You'd better hope that your boyfriend truly cares about you."

"Boyfriend?" You drew in your eyebrows. "I swear, I know of Murdock — friend of a friend, invited a few of us over to his place once or twice — but I have nothing to do with him! If he's involved in something illegal — or, I don't know, something with you folks — I don't know about it, please believe me — just let me go—"

Fisk sat down on the chair in front of you, settling himself in slowly. His eyes bored a hole into your skull and you couldn't help but look down at his shoes. "You think I do things lightly, Miss L/N?"

"I don't know. I don't know who you are or what you do."

"I've always found that those who are methodical will always win. Funny, really, that Aesop could articulate such a fundamental principle with a puerile story. When I was a boy, I wanted the hare to win. I didn't think it was fair that the tortoise should enjoy victory when it was the hare who seemingly had the predisposition, the potential, the skillset to win. But I learned. I discovered, through my own folly and mistakes, that it is not the person with the most resources who gets to the top. It's the one who strategizes, the one who is thorough."

"I don't understand." You were shaking where you sat; you could feel the muscles in your hands jumping as tension stretched taut through you.

"Let me spell it out for you, Miss L/N. When I want to win, I take my time. And I took my time in getting to know you. I've seen your family, your yearbook photos, the first job you had. I've read your college recommendations and seen your SAT scores. I've spoken to your therapist and friends. I know the exact day that you began seeing Matthew Murdock and I have footage of all the dates you've ever been on with him. So, when I suggest that you do not try lying to me, I am recommending it for your own sake, lest you want to lose your tongue."

Never had you felt so cornered in your life. Fisk sat in front of you like the opposite of light at the end of the tunnel — he was a black hole, sucking every bit of hope from the room, and in that moment you were certain you would not leave this room alive, and a silent voice within you begged that at least it wouldn't be messy, for Matt's sake.

"Start recording," Fisk ordered, and Hanson picked up your phone. Dread coiled in your stomach as it rang. Based on where the sun was in the sky, you'd been gone for awhile and it was unlikely that Matt was already wondering where you were. He'd receive and listen to any audio file sent to his phone almost immediately.

The way Fisk's eyes settled, calm and snakelike, on you made your heart freeze. "Y/N, say hello to Mr. Murdock."

You said nothing. Obeying him, putting your voice onto that audio message, felt like a betrayal of sorts. Maybe it was just the headache speaking, from where you'd been knocked out, but it felt all kinds of wrong to open your mouth and follow through with Fisk's intentions.

"Hanson, encourage her to speak," he said.

Hanson did not hesitate. He took out a knife and pressed it to the tip of your thumb. "Speak, or your thumb will be a centimeter shorter."

"Hello, Mr. Murdock," you parroted back, despising yourself with every word and shivering at what Matt would say when he heard the audio file. At what he would think of you. You knew he wouldn't blame you for getting kidnapped, but still, you hated that now you were just another burden for him — another person to save.

"Give me the phone, Hanson," Fisk said. He took your phone (if you made it out of this mess, you would definitely be sanitizing it) and spoke slowly. "I hope that this is enough of an incentive for you to stand down. You see, this is what you brought upon yourself when you decided to bring Vanessa into this. It was a mistake to say her name." He ended the recording and handed the phone back to Hanson. "Send that to Murdock, please."

"Yes, sir."

Once Fisk waved Hanson off, you felt even more apprehensive. You wanted to meet his eyes — to show that you were unafraid, to prove that he was making a mistake in holding you captive — but that was so far from the truth that you didn't dare make eye contact.

"We'll release you in soon," Fisk said, standing up. "I understand that this isn't pleasant for you, and I regret that you must be the way for me to make a point to Murdock."

"You're going to let me go?" you said, stunned.

"This is a long-term game plan, Miss L/N. This isn't like a movie, where we take people and behead them. No, I consider our tactics more mature than that. I intend to keep you long enough to show Murdock what I'm capable of, and to demonstrate to him that he should never again utter Vanessa's name."

"He's a lawyer," you said, your voice shaking. "And a damn good one. You'll be deep in legal trouble, so—"

Fisk laughed. "Do you know where you are right now, Miss L/N?"

You glanced around the room for the first time. Barren, cement walls, no windows. "A... lair of some kind?"

"As I said before, we are not children, playing out some movie," Fisk said. "No, this is a prison. A prison that I am in control of, as Murdock discovered when he visited to inquire about one Mr. Castle. You can rest assured that the extent of my control goes far beyond the walls of this prison, and the courtrooms are not exempt." He took a step forward and placed his hand on your head. You closed your eyes, trembling, as his palm brushed your hair, as though curious to know what the texture was.

"I apologize, Miss L/N, that you have been caught in this war between your boyfriend and myself." And then, without any warning, he swung a fist so hard into your abdomen that you choked aloud, all of the breath gone from your chest. There was no reprieve before he swung again, and you tried to curl up but the restraints around you made it impossible; you could only heave for breath.

That was only the beginning.

Once Fisk left, you didn't see him for a long time. He had said that you would be released "soon", but you quickly learned that was a subjective term; at least a few days passed with no word of him. You tried to tell time from when you were given food — which was sparing and meagre. Though you were no longer tied to the chair you had woken up in, the room was small enough that you still felt suffocated, and you could do nothing but sit on the corner, back aching, and wait.

At first, it wasn't that bad, as far as kidnappings went (at least, in your imagination). You were hungry, and not nearly enough water was provided, but that was the worst of it, aside from the discomfort of sleeping on a wooden bench. Your bones felt as though they were bruised all over and you were sore from shivering; your shoulders especially were taut from pain of being clenched for so long in the cold. The hunger, while throbbing at first, subsided to a dull feeling that you could attempt to ignore, and the headache gave you something to think about, at least, during the empty hours in the room.

Every thump that you heard, every shout... you couldn't help but hope that it was Matt, there to rescue you. There was a small part of you that began to doubt that he'd be able to make his way to you, let alone find you, as another few hours passed without anything happening.

Or maybe he'd cut his losses and was going to leave you there.

No, don't be dumb. That was ridiculous. Matt loved you. You loved him.

Oh, but what if you're just temporary for him? He could always go back to Elektra. Besides, Elektra at least wouldn't be weak enough to get kidnapped, you thought derisively. It would frankly be justified if Matt went back to her. He deserved someone who could keep up with him.

Maybe it was the dehydration that made your thoughts spiral even more, or maybe it was the exhaustion, because you only convinced yourself further that he wasn't coming, and that he had elected to leave you there.

I'm annoying. I'm always waiting for him, I'm always clinging to him, I'm like a leech that won't go away. He's probably realized how nice it is to have a break from me.

Or maybe he's met another lawyer. Someone really smart, someone who got a 180 on her LSAT and gives him a run for his money.

Karen, maybe. He always liked Karen. She's courageous, and passionate, and literally a model, and so much better for him than I am.

You were so lost in your own self-loathing that you didn't hear Hanson enter and started so violently that you gasped aloud when he spoke.

"Y/N, we're beginning a new recording."

"What?"

"Mr. Fisk would like a new recording to be sent to Mr. Murdock. Say hello."

This time, you kept your jaw firmly shut. It wasn't even out of a refusal to obey Hanson, but more out of your own reluctance to say anything to Matt, because you detested the idea of being even more of a burden on him.

This time, Hanson didn't wait for you to cooperate. He took out his knife and expertly swiped it near your upper arm, so quickly that at first you thought he missed, until a fiery sting flared, followed by the trickle of something warm.

Yet you remained silent.

"I might suggest you speak, Y/N. The quicker you talk, the less pain there will be, and Mr. Murdock won't have to receive quite as lengthy of a recording."

Feeling inspired, you spat at his feet. Hanson was quick to react — he flipped the knife up so that the tip was pressing into the back of your ear. "Did you hear me? Say hello to him."

When you said nothing, he applied pressure to the knife, and it began to cut through your skin; you couldn't help but gasp out loud, panic beginning to set in as red drips started to flow down your neck.

He's going to take off my ear he's going to take off my ear he's going to take off my ear—

"Hello!" you cried out finally, wincing at the stinging residue left where the knife had been.

"Good." Hanson tucked the knife away. "It makes things easier, doesn't it?" His gaze lingered on you for a moment before switching back to the phone. "Mr. Murdock, I'm undressing your girlfriend now. Don't worry, we don't intend to violate her."

"What?" you demanded. "You're not undressing me!"

Hanson ignored you. He took his knife and ripped your shirt open, removing every bit of fabric from you — including undergarments — until you were shivering, goosebumps crawling up your flesh where you made contact with the cold wood of the chair. You tried to cover yourself to no avail; the cuffs made it nearly impossible to give yourself ample cover. With no other choice but to sit in the chair and wait for Hanson to leave, you closed your eyes as tears rose.

Do not cry in front of him. Distract yourself. Ask him a question, get him talking.

"Why undress me?" you asked finally. "What's your endgame here?"

"Mr. Fisk wants you to understand the power he holds," he said smoothly. "And he wants Mr. Murdock to stop interfering. A show of power, especially with humiliation, is apropos for that sort of message, isn't it?"

"Fuck you."

"That's not the kind of diplomacy we're looking for."

"I don't care. Fuck you and your stupid messages. You're torturing someone who's got nothing to do with any of your shit, and as far as I'm aware, Matt was only fulfilling a legal obligation to talk to Fisk. You're making a mistake."

"Was it his 'legal obligation' to mention Vanessa to Mr. Fisk? No? Then, I am sorry to say, we are justified in our actions." Hanson twirled the knife and drove it downwards, faster than the blink of an eye, into the top of your hand.

This time, you screamed. And it wasn't the only scream, either — when you glanced down, and saw the blade of the knife gouged straight through the top of your hand, staking your entire arm to the wooden chair, you screamed again, throat so raw that it felt as though it were tearing, because God, the pain, make it stop, there was no way that one little blade could make you feel as though you were being torn apart, atom-by-atom—

"Mr. Murdock, I hope you've made it to the end of this message, because Mr. Fisk has something he'd like to say to you," Hanson said, unconcernedly straightening his tie. "Never bring Vanessa into this again, ever. Good day."

He clicked the end button on your phone and typed a few buttons as he delivered the audio file.

And that was the last thing you saw. Your tunneling vision collapsed altogether and the wooziness of looking at the blood streaming down your fingers took your consciousness.

When you awoke next, everything was pitch black. The light that used to stream in from the hallway was gone. You couldn't see your hand, not that you particularly wanted to, but it felt hot and irritated, though the blood around it had clotted. That was the one good thing, you supposed, though you had a suspicious that the heat around it was not as good. But maybe heat was good. Like a fever — fevers meant that the cells were killing the bad cells, right? Perhaps the same principle applied to knives-in-hands.

Then again, you weren't sure how straight you were thinking at the moment.

Every so often Hanson would enter, leaving you squinting in the jarring yellow light that he brought with him. Best case scenario, he'd add a cut to your collection, taking the tip of a new knife he had to make you bleed. Worst case scenario he tried something new — choking you, grazing your foot with a lighter. Either way, you learned to be obedient, and whenever the recording started, you said hello to Matt, just as he wanted you to.

And then, as time blurred and warped into a funhouse kaleidoscope of nonsense, you were no longer in that room. You didn't even remember being taken out of it. One moment you were lying on the floor, trembling uncontrollably from the cold, and the next... you were being handled roughly, thrown down, and left alone. The roar of a vehicle beside you was loud enough that you opened your eyes.

Water. There was water near you. The Hudson? The wood beneath you was damp, like a dock.

And next to you, sitting silently, was your phone. Hands shaking, you reached out, wincing at the throb of pain and at the gaping dark wound where the knife had apparently been extracted from your hand.

It was your phone. You stared at it, unsure of what to do. Was this a test? Did Fisk leave you here as torture?

Or was this your chance to escape?

Which, at the moment, felt unlikely. Your legs weren't moving. You could hardly lift your head, for whatever reason, and you were so damn cold that it made you want to fall asleep where you were, no matter how damn uncomfortable the dock was.

Or... you could call Matt.

Matt. You wanted to cry at the thought of him. Why hadn't he come for you? He probably was tired of how needy you were, how incapable, how useless compared to Elektra. But you stared at the contacts in your phone, then at the various cuts on your body. There was no one else to call.

You clicked his name, unsure of whether he'd pick up, but on the very first ring his voice was there. It sounded like an ethereal tether, anchoring you back to a reality that you hadn't been to in days, not since before you had been kidnapped.

"Y/N?" Matt said, almost breathless.

God, you missed his voice. And being in his arms. Suddenly you wanted to sob, just at hearing him, because hearing him meant everything would be alright. Matt's voice was comfort, it was home.

"Y/N, are you there?" he said, this time more insistent.

Right. Answering him would be a good idea.

"Matt?" you said weakly, taken aback by the sound of your own voice. It sounded like someone had taken your voice box, air-fried it, left it in the desert, then thrown some shards of glass in for good measure.

"I'm here, I'm here, sweetie. Where are you? Are you okay? What can you see?"

"I..." Something was pulsing behind your eyes, and it was distracting. You closed them to alleviate the pressure. "I... what?"

"Sorry. One question at a time." Matt was speaking slower, now, and you were glad for it. "Are you hurt?"

"Mm. Probably. But I'll be okay." Worrying him seemed like the wrong thing to do. You'd be fine, of course you would be, because it would be embarrassing if you weren't fine. The thought of having to be rescued as well as being incapable of getting up and brushing off your knees was alarming.

"Y/N, I need you to look around and tell me what you see. I'm going to try to find you. Is that water I can hear in the back?"

"I'm... by the Hudson, I think." You tried lifting your head, but it sent electric bolts of pain down your neck. "Ow. I'm having a hard time looking."

"That's okay, sweetheart, you're doing great. What else can you see?"

"Streetlamps. Dock."

"Okay. Anything else?" There was rustling in the background of the call, then the telltale squeaking of Matt's apartment door. Was he headed to work? No, it was dark out, you reminded yourself. It was too late to go to work. He was headed for Josie's, maybe. Or to go see Elektra.

"Y/N, are you there? Don't fall asleep. Stay awake, listen to my voice."

You jolted upright, unaware that you'd been drifting. "Sorry. I'm here."

"The phone isn't picking up much of the audio, but I'm headed in your general direction. Keep talking to me, Y/N. I need you to stay awake."

"I'm not falling asleep," you protested.

Though sleep did sound really nice. You didn't even notice the cold anymore, and you were glad you were in the shadows of night, because if anyone found you, naked and laying there on the dock, you'd surely get arrested. Was it a felony to be naked in public? You couldn't remember.

And your hand, it hurt so much, it felt as though it were numb and on fire at the same time. You scratched at it, but it only made it throb more, and then you could feel the warm stickiness that suggested it was bleeding again, so you let it fall back down onto the wood and stared up at the few stars bright enough to penetrate the haze of New York City.

And then your eyes were shut, and you were reluctantly opening them as a sharp voice commanded something of you in the background.

"What?" you asked, trying to remember where you were. Right. The dock. Waiting for Matt, presumably. Was he coming? That didn't seem certain.

"Y/N, talk to me. You've got to stay awake. I think you've lost a lot of blood."

"Talk... 'bout what?"

"Tell me about the nearest building to you."

"Mm. Okay." You swung your gaze to the right. "Um, there's a bottle." And it was a big bottle. At first you weren't sure if you were hallucinating, but it was definitely there, and bottle-shaped. Art, you realized. A sculpture of some sort. "Big bottle. Big, big bottle."

"You're amazing, sweetheart. I know exactly where you are. I'll be there in five minutes, alright?" He didn't wait for your thoughts to drift. "Talk to me about your plans for Thanksgiving. You had plans for us, right?"

"Right." You struggled to think of Thanksgiving. It felt like eons ago that you'd been mapping out the holiday, like you were a different person entirely last you'd thought of it. "I want... homemade cranberry sauce. Not the jar stuff."

"Right. What's wrong with the jar stuff?"

You were exhausted; it was too tough of a question to answer coherently. You opted to ignore the question and moved on. "Mashed potatoes. With toppings."

"What kinds of toppings?"

"Um." Thinking was making your head hurt even more. "Butter? I don't know. Matt, it hurts." The admission slipped from your mouth before you could check it.

Stupid, you've got to keep him from worrying, he needs to think that you're alright, he can't know that it hurts.

"I know, I know it does, I'm going as fast as I can go," Matt said, and you assumed he must have been telling the truth — he sounded out of breath and his speech was punctuated with running footsteps.

It began to rain. It was a cold rain, the kind that felt as though it should be snow but the temperature wasn't quite low enough. It splattered across your skin and reminded you of the fact that you were naked. "Matt, I'm naked," you informed him, blinking as you looked down at your body. Blood was all over you; it was difficult to see where Hanson had targeted you. The burn on your foot was making itself known as it got wet in the rain, and you bit your tongue to keep from crying out.

But he didn't sound surprised. "I heard. In the audio file. I've got clothing for you."

Oh, yes. The audio files. How much of your kidnapping had Matt been privy to hear? You weren't sure if you wanted to know.

"What vegetable were you thinking?" he prompted.

Your eyes drifted open. "Well... that depends. What d'you want?"

"Whatever you want to have."

"Not fair," you objected, voice slurring slightly. It was annoying, trying to keep up with the conversation; you wanted nothing more than to sleep, even with the rain now pattering hard on your face. "I guess... peas are nice. Peas are Thanksgiving-y."

"I like peas. My dad used to make them all the time — he'd buy them frozen, heat the whole bag up at once, and melt butter in it. Then we'd keep it in the fridge for a week and it would be our sole source of a vegetable."

"Mm. Butter peas," you repeated. "I'll do that. What... what's your..." The word wouldn't come to your lips, and you paused for a few seconds. "Favorite pie?"

"Strawberry rhubarb," he said, but this time, the voice wasn't coming from the phone, but above you. Everything felt foggy, though, and for a moment all you could think was that there was a man above you, and that it had to be Hanson — Fisk must have wanted to take you back, and they were here to take you again, and please, you couldn't do this again—

"Hey, hey, it's me. It's me." The voice above you was Matt's, and his face came into focus as he kneeled next to you with a wavering smile. You drew in a breath, ignoring the stab of pain in your chest.

"Matt?"

"I've got you," he said, pulling you up into his arms. "I have you."

You couldn't help it; tears began to flow, because Matt's arms were so strong and safe, the exact thing you had longed for all that time in the cell. You could still feel your heart racing wildly and you tried to draw another breath to calm down.

Matt's head was tilted as he surveyed you. He must have left the apartment in a hurry, because he hadn't bothered to put on the red suit, or even the black outfit. He was still in his work pants, with an untucked collared button-down and a tie that was loose enough that it looked ready to fall off him. The only part of his ensemble that he'd put on was the black mask.

And, dammit, even lying in the rain naked and injured, you were still able to appreciate how good he looked.

"Okay." Matt's head was still tilted, and you realized he was appraising you. "Okay. We're going to be okay, sweetheart."

We. You felt a rush of affection for him, and reached outwards weakly with your uninjured hand. He took it, squeezing hard. "I'm here, Y/N." He took off a backpack that you hadn't noticed yet and helped you to sit up, slipping one of his larger tee shirts over your head as though you were a lifeless doll. You didn't mind the help; you wouldn't have had the energy to do it on your own.

He was exceedingly careful. His hands skated over the parts of your body that hurt the most, precisely aware of where he should and shouldn't touch in order to not aggravate the wounds. When it came time to putting on the pants, he practically lifted you up before putting your arm around his neck so that you wouldn't topple over as he pulled your pajama pants on you.

"Thanks," you murmured. "Sorry... sorry I'm useless."

He kissed your cheek gently, and then picked you up, carrying you away from the dock. "You're never useless. Never. I was..." He drew in a breath. "This past week has been hell. I tried to get into that prison dozens of times, but Fisk had it guarded so well that I couldn't — I'm sorry, sweetheart, I did everything I could — but it was a fortress. And the law couldn't help, the police couldn't help, because they've all been corrupted, and — well, I'll tell you when you're better."

You wiped roughly at your face with your good hand. "Can we go home? I'm... I'm scared he'll come back, that they'll try to take me again — I don't want to go back there. He knows I'm here, Matt, they dropped me off here, they know."

"We're going home," he promised, and then his face darkened. "If they ever even try to talk to you again, let alone touch you..." He broke off. "The point is, they won't. I will never let this happen again, do you hear me?" He cupped your face in his hands and kissed you, a bit more roughly, as the anger broiling beneath the surface for Fisk crested slightly. "How are you feeling right now? Are you able to walk?"

"I'm fine." You shifted slightly. "I can walk." It was an ambitious offer, though. You were struggling to keep your head up and you weren't sure how long you could stay upright.

Matt exhaled. "I've already texted Claire. She's going to come to the apartment. You... you've been through a lot, sweetie. You've lost a lot of blood." He helped you to your feet, and you clutched at him, swaying uncertainly. It only took one step forward for you to yelp, as your burned foot seared in protest, and without another word Matt took you up in his arms.

"I'm fine," you insisted. "You don't have to carry me, really. I can walk."

Matt's face twisted. "No. You're... you're not in good shape, sweetheart. I can take it from here."

You didn't answer. His tone was more serious than you were anticipating, which suggested you'd underestimated your own injuries. The exhaustion that followed seemed to corroborate that. It was hard enough staying awake on the dock, but now, in the warmth of Matt's arms, and with the rhythmic jostling as he walked you away from the Hudson, it was enough to make the black start to descend on your vision again.

"Y/N, hey, stay awake. Don't fall asleep," Matt was saying, but as much as you wanted to listen to him, the heaviness won out, and you passed out, into a heavy blackness lined with the velvet curtains of dreamlessness.

Moments flickered in and out.

Claire's face. Determined, stoic, and at times, anxious. You wanted to say hello, or to say that you were fine, but your lips were lead and no sound emerged.

Then Foggy. Attempted smiles, cracked jokes that you couldn't hear or retain. Doughnuts, you noticed once, hazily drifting in and out.

Karen was there. Beautiful Karen, who you couldn't help but envy. Sitting beside you, reading beside you silently, glancing up at you.

And, of course, Matt's face. Constantly worried, constantly seeking out the sounds of your heart or wounds, fingers dancing over you to check for invisible damage. Sometimes he was sleeping in the chair next to you. Or he'd be pacing in the living room. Sometimes he had his work out with him, his fingers running over the braille keys as they popped up, but still his head was always slightly tilted towards you, keeping watch.

And then...

Hanson's voice.

You jolted upright, heart leaping into your chest as you glanced around wildly, certain that you'd see Hanson's polished shoes crossing the floor towards you.

"Shit, shit, sorry!" someone was saying, and you jarred your neck as you turned to face Foggy, who was guiltily setting down your phone. "I'm so sorry, Y/N!"

"Y/N?" Matt was next to you; how long had he been there? His face was anxious and he was holding your hand. "I'm sorry. Foggy and I were listening back through the audio files, trying to find clues as to where Hanson might be — if there's a chance we can go after him legally, Foggy thinks we should take it."

"He's... he's not here?" you said, uncertain, still feeling shaky from the adrenaline.

"No. No, he's not." Matt was looking at you sadly, and a rush of embarrassment flowed through you.

"My bad," you said, struggling to sit up. "It just... took me by surprise, I guess, hearing his voice again."

"No one blames you," Foggy said automatically. "Jesus, slow down, Y/N — you nearly died of hypovolemia."

"Foggy's right." Matt settled onto the bed next to you. "Rest, stay laying down. You've been out for awhile."

"How long is awhile?"

"Awhile," was all he said.

"Did I... did I miss Thanksgiving?"

Matt's expression told you all that you needed to know. You groaned and flopped back onto your pillow, which was a mistake; your skull resounded with the impact and stars floated above you.

"You need to take it easy," Matt was saying, concern in his eyes. "You're not unbreakable, Y/N."

"Think I figured that out on my own," you muttered, shielding your eyes as the sun glinted off of the window. "Shit. I missed Thanksgiving."

"Not really," Foggy said. "We're postponing it. Homemade cranberry sauce and buttery peas will still be on."

His words tickled a faint memory in the back of your head, of lying in a dock and talking almost incoherently with Matt on the phone. "Aw. You two talked about... the plans? While I was out?"

"It was that or talk about the latest legal precedent issues that are making life hell for us at the office," Matt said, smiling. "But we would never do Thanksgiving without you." He rubbed his thumb gently against the top of your hand, avoiding the bandage where the skin was sensitive. You didn't even want to think about what that wound looked like.

"I'll have to run to the grocery store soon, then," you said. "And we have to buy a crock pot, Matt. And we need—"

"We need you to get better, first," he cut in. "Claire left some medication for you. You should take it now."

"I'm fine."

"Y/N."

"Matt, whenever I tell you to take your meds, you brush me off and say that you're fine." You tried to push yourself up onto your elbows. "I want to get ready, I want to get out of this bed — I feel like I've been out of commission for so long."

But Matt gently stopped you from getting up. "Sweetie, Foggy wasn't lying. You almost died. I need you to get better, okay? Rest, and heal. I'll be here."

"But—"

"Get some sleep," he whispered, and it wasn't really that unappealing an idea. You slowly lowered yourself back onto the pillow, this time avoiding the mistake of flopping backwards.

"Okay," you said finally, sleep already taking you. "But... I want to do two desserts, okay? One strawberry rhubarb."

"And the other?"

"Devil's food cake," you murmured, closing your eyes. "'Cause it'd be funny."

As you finally fell asleep, the last thing you heard was Matt's laugh.

[buckysendoftheline]

steven grant- hug me

summary: steven comforts you after a rough day

steven grant x gn!reader, minor marc spector x gn!reader, minor jake lockley x gn!reader

warnings: cursing

word count: 1667

...

Steven Grant gave the best hugs.

Whether it was quick ones before he was off to work at the museum or long ones while you rested on the couch with a book in your lap while he rested his head on your shoulder.

Steven Grant was the best boyfriend you could’ve asked for, especially when you were having the worst possible day.

You had woken up late that morning because Steven had to go extra early to work and was usually the one to wake you.

You had checked the digital clock at your bedside and immediately sprung up when you saw that you were late for work.

You quickly put on your clothes and brushed your teeth before grabbing your work bag from the kitchen counter, ignoring the pancakes with little chocolate hearts on them forming in the shape of a smiley face, and rushed to work.

The moment you got there you were greeted by a stern look from your boss and jeering co-workers.

“L/N, this is unacceptable behavior you are more than three hours late without any notice. You mind as well just go home since you’re practically no use here anyway,” your boss had her arms crossed over her blazer-covered chest, her eyes narrowed into slits as she glared at you.

Your heart hammered in your chest when she said these cruel words.

Your co-workers stood behind her, covering their snickers with their mouths as they stared at you, their grins full of malice.

“Okay,” you whispered as you felt tears fill your eyes.

“Nice job, Y/N!” your coworker Erica cackled maniacally as she braced her arm on her friend beside her.

“Classic Y/N, I mean what can I say boss, they’ve always been a menace here,”

Your heart tugged.

Why did you deserve this much hate from them?

 You desperately wanted to argue that you were rarely ever late and you always made an effort to bake your co-workers and boss baked goods while also giving them gifts.

“You know what,” your boss started towards you and ripped your nametag from your jacket, the pin making a hole in your jacket- your favorite one.

The workers gasped and then doubled into laughter at your embarrassing state.

“I don’t even think you need to work here anymore if you can’t use your time management skills.

You turned before they could see you break, starting towards the elevator.

The moment the doors closed and you were left in solitude, the tears slipped down your cheeks.

You hated showing signs of weakness. The idea of crying and not being strong in every moment made you sick.

Showing yourself to Steven, Marc, or Jake in this way made you feel embarrassed.

You didn’t want to be a task to them. 

So you swiped away at your tears and went to your car with a determined look on your face acting like everything was fine and that you didn’t just get fired.

The confident face you put on wasn't working.

You put on your playlist of happy songs trying to concentrate on the lyrics and instead on the pain you were feeling.

You gulped painfully as you entered the garage to your flat.

Your neighbors cheerfully said their hellos while you gave them a quick wave, trying hard to force your tears back.

The moment you entered your apartment you burst into tears, trying to find comfort on your bed as you plopped your face promptly onto Steven’s pillow, inhaling his scent.

How could you be so fucking irresponsible and let this all happen? It was all your fault and maybe you did deserve the torment of your former co-workers. Maybe you did deserve to lose your job.

A broken sob left your lips as you tried to stifle your noises on your boyfriend’s pillow.

When Steven walked into the flat he was in a giddy mood. Donna hadn’t harassed him today, Marc and Jake were behaving while he had his turn of the body, and now he was able to get off of work early and see you.

The moment he took in the surroundings of his flat he felt as if something was off.

He turned to the kitchen where your uneaten pancakes sat cold.

Y/N didn’t eat your pancakes. That’s never happened before, the voice of Marc rung in Steven’s ears, clearly confused.

Steven’s eyebrows furrowed together as he scanned the atmosphere of the apartment once more.

On the living room couch sat your workbag and a large box.

“That wasn’t there before,” Steven raised an eyebrow as he approached the box with caution and stared at its contents-it was all of the stuff that you had placed on your desk at work.

Did they get fired? Jake growled.

Y/N was the best at their job how would they get fired? Marc’s tone was confused but was mixed with a twinge of annoyance.

“Guys there’s probably a perfectly good explanation for this that Y/N can explain. Now, where are they?” Steven’s soft eyes raked around before he walked into your shared bedroom where he found you sobbing into his pillow.

The three alters let out a shared gasp at your state.

You never acted like this.

Steven, I think this is more your territory…but once they say who hurt them then it’ll be my turn Jake stated, a determined look on his face in the mirror.

Marc rolled his eyes at Jake and shook his head lightly.

Just be there for our Y/N, Marc gave a sad smile before Steven turned away from them and turned his attention onto you.

“Y/N?” the British alter made his voice as soft as possible as you swung over and faced him, your heart pounding in your chest and stray tears streaking your face.

Caught.

“Steven, what are you doing back here so early?” you questioned before wiping away your tears rapidly.

Your boyfriend joined you on the bed and gently grasped your hands to pause your actions.

“There’s no need to try and hide your emotions from me, love. What happened?” he held one of your hands and let the other slide up your cheek.

“I don’t want to be a burden on you, Steven. I don’t want to be a burden on any of you,” you were quiet as you stared down at your lap, ashamed of your emotions.

Y/N a burden on us? That’s bullshit Marc grunted while Jake next to him stood in silence, anger radiating off of him.

Why would they ever think that? We love them so much Jake clenched his fists.

“Alright knock it off you two,” Steven rolled his eyes before returning his attention to you.

“Y/N, you aren’t a burden on us. We love you so much and we are always here to care for you and love you,” Steven caressed your face, the pads of his thumbs so gentle.

You squeezed your eyes shut as tears slipped down your cheeks.

“Oh darling,” Steven pulled you into his arms as your wails were swallowed by his shoulder.

It physically hurt the three alters to see you breaking down like this. In some way, they felt like it was their fault.

You cried and cried while Steven simply held you, peppering kisses onto your head and whispering sweet nothings in an attempt to soothe you.

Once your sobs muffled down to sniffles, Steven planted a chaste kiss to your cheek before lifting your head off of his now tear-stained t-shirt.

“I’m sorry,” you sniffed.

“What why?” your boyfriend’s brown eyes widened.

“Your shirt,” you pointed.

Instantly his eyes softened as he took in your form.

Your eyes were bloodshot and glassy and your face looked dry from your tears.

“It’s okay…now do you want to tell me what’s wrong… we want to help you,” Steven leaned in, his curls falling over his forehead as he took your hand and pressed a delicate kiss to the back of it.

Your heart melted at his words and the sweet gesture.

“I-I got fired,” you stuttered as Steven’s jaw dropped like his goldfish.

“Fired? But you were the best worker there! You actually knew what you were doing,” he ran a hand through his hair frustratedly as his head practically exploded with the angry responses from Marc and Jake.

“Guess not since I was late this morning,” your voice was small.

“You’re saying they fired you for being late one time? That’s absolutely absurd,” he shook his head as you shrugged your shoulders.

“What’s done is done I guess,” you sighed before planting your face into Steven’s chest.

“Your boss has always been jealous of you. And so have your co-workers. Remember when the big boss said that you could be up and running for your boss’ job. Oh, she didn’t like that,” Steven’s British accent was thick with contempt.

“Tomorrow we’ll go up to them and I’ll tell them why they need a hard worker like you,” a determined look came across his face as you said nothing.

“Are you okay love?” 

“My mental breakdown was just so exhausting I think I need a few more days before I can go back and face them,” you sighed as you curled up in his chest and he wrapped his arms around you.

“God I love your hugs. You know the only reason why I think this whole debacle happened is that you didn’t give me a hug this morning,” you whispered as you nuzzled your nose into his chest making his cheeks flame.

A deep chuckle rumbled from his chest as he let you enjoy the feeling of his arms while he enjoyed holding you close to him.

After a few moments, he spoke up again.

“Poppet I know you’re having a rough day but you know what I think will help you feel better just a bit?”

“What?”

“A pint of ice cream,” a grin stretched across his features.

"Now we're talking,"

[buckysendoftheline]

Sweet Tooth ☾ Steven Grant × Female!Reader

Request: yes! from @bubblegumfanfics - Totally require a Steven Grant fix where the reader is a hella good baker and Steven loves her little treats. She tries confessing to him by making him chocolates and all of the things he loves but he isn’t getting a picture. One day the reader turns up at his place with chocolates and freshly baked snacks for a movie night and as they’re doing that Steven just goes like “You know I’m in love with you, right?”

Warnings: if you have a sugar craving or crave something as soon as you read it, i apologize. trust me, im craving sweets now & i don’t have much of a sweet tooth. also, if you don’t like Peacock, im sorry :,) I’ve been watching a lot of stuff on there recently & it’s free unless you don’t want ads so naturally, my broke self loves it & im tired of Netflix rn 💀

Another day, another batch of left overs from the treats you made for your bakery. Usually, you would save them for the next day, but since it was Friday, you decided you’d take them home to try new recipes you found in cookbooks and on YouTube. Fridays were also one of the days in the week where you get to see Steven Grant; your favorite customer and the man you had a crush on. He’s always been so nice to you and, although sometimes shy and awkward, made decent conversation with you. You probably wouldn’t admit it to his face, but you absolutely loved it when he rambled about Egypt and different historic items as well as their Gods and Goddesses.

Not only did you know of his love for all things Egyptian, you also knew of his love for sweets, especially when it comes to chocolate, so each time he came in, you’d always add some form of romance to his goodies, but he never noticed. Today was different though as you both had a tradition to go to his house to watch a movie every other Friday.

You finished cleaning your bakery before packing some brownies, some homemade chocolate bars, chocolate chip cookies, some macarons and a few slices of cakes of different flavors. You locked up the bakery before making your way to Steven’s apartment, debating whether or not you would tell him before or after the movie since you wanted to get it over with.

When you got to his, he invited you in and helped you put the goods in the fridge as well as stealing a brownie from the container you brought them in. “So, what are we watching? A comedy? A documentary? Sci-fi?” He let out a nervous chuckle. “A romance actually.” You raised an eyebrow at his words. “Steven Grant watching a romance? That’s something I never thought I would witness.”

“Well, I do hope you don’t mind.” You shook your head before grabbing a chocolate bar from the fridge and sat on his couch. “No, it’s fine. I’m just surprised is all.” He sat next to you before scrolling through the romance section on Peacock. The silence was a bit awkward as the only sounds sound you heard was the occasional crunch of the chocolate bar as well as the the sips of water Steven took.

Suddenly the scrolling stopped and you looked over at Steven who was looking at you. “Do I have chocolate on my face?” You grabbed a napkin before wiping your mouth and he chuckled. “No, it’s nothing of the sort. I just feel like I have to tell you something, but I have no idea how you’ll take it.” You nibble on your chocolate bar, waiting patiently for him to continue. “How long have we known each other (Y/N)?” You took a sip of your water before saying, “I think it’s been almost two years now…?”

“Well, I think I’ll take this risk,” you looked into his dark brown eyes, searching for any hint of what he was going to do or say, but he hid it well, it was scary. “You know I’m in love with you, right?” At his confession, you choked on your own saliva, causing him to panic and quickly give you your water. After you downed it, he began apologizing. “I didn’t know you would react this way. I’m so sorry!” You shook your head and rested your hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay, Steven. I didn’t know though because every time I’ve tried to tell you, you never noticed.” He became shocked at your words.

“Since when?!” You laughed before pointing out all the little things you did for him that had hints of you liking him. “Since you never noticed, I didn’t think you felt the same way.” He leaned over and kissed your cheek, causing them to warm up. “Now you know that I do and I’m sorry for being oblivious to your attempts, love.” You rested your head on his shoulder and smiled. “That’s okay, Steven. I love you too.”

~~~~~

requests are open! feel free to look through my masterlists in case you want to request someone that isn’t the moon boys! :)

[buckysendoftheline]

Exile - Marc Spector

Pairing: Marc Spector x F!vigilante-reader, Steven Grant x F!vigilante-Reader

Warnings: gunshot wound, fighting. 

Premise: You and Marc share a mutual dislike for each other - or so you think. That is until a particularly nasty fight leaves you at his mercy. 

an: Hey guys! This is my first Moon Knight fic - and fair warning, it isn’t perfectly canon. Just a fun little blurb I had on my mind. Please enjoy all the enemies to lovers clichés here as much as I do. 

From the moment you unintentionally stepped - or perhaps more accurately, punched, into Marc Spector’s life, you both walked a thin line. Your paths had crossed rather unceremoniously during a minor street brawl, though Marc loved to remind you that fighting three men single-handily was hardly minor. You loathed to admit when you were over your head. And, much to the Moon Knight’s dismay, you would rather get pummeled than accept assistance.

Still, in all fairness, you had it handled. 

Keep reading

[buckysendoftheline]

I have a Moonknight request. Reader is a newly turned vampire that doesn't have control of her abilities.

He's been sent to kill & right when he's about to he's struck by her beauty & innocence & can't bring himself to do it

He realizes she's terrified,angry & cursed. And he's going to save her before it's too late.

Lioness —> Moon Knight

steven grant x fem!reader x marc spector (3k+ words)

warnings: mentions of blood, drinking blood, basically vampirism (but nothing TOO graphic), death, manipulation, insecurities, no connections to the plot of the show

a/n: tysm for this request!! i did my best to add some egyptian ties to the request. i might make this a two part thing. i hope you like it!

The cold damp earth laid beneath the girl, offering more comfort than anything else had ever provided for her. The forest floor she laid on would make a beautiful burial place. 

With moonlight shining down on her broken body through the large trees, she had never been more at peace. 

Warm crimson blood escaped her, coating the earth in a shade it had worn too many times. 

She was dying, and she had accepted it.  

A strong gust of wind chilled the girl. Her clothes had been ripped and torn, and she was cold. So cold. 

“My, my, young one.” 

The feminine ancient voice felt heavy against the girl’s cheek. With strained strength, she opened her eyes to a tall figure looking down at her. 

The girl’s eyes widened at the sight of a woman’s body with the head of a lion. The Goddess wore a sun disk and held an ankh sign in her left hand. She glowed in the darkness, while blending in. 

With dry, chapped lips, the girl parted her lips. 

“Sekhmet.” 

Sekhmet nodded, crouching down. Her feline eyes swept over the body of the girl, appreciating who would soon be her avatar. 

Dipping a finger in the pool of blood surrounding the girl, Sekhmet brought the finger to her mouth. The girl watched as Sekhmet’s eyes grew sharper, pleased. 

“I can save you, little one. Let me save you. And in return, become my patron. My lioness.” 

The girl grunted, unable to shake her head. This had not been the first time Sekhmet had approached her. Though, she always looked different. Sometimes she came with a gentle voice, and other times, she had a raspy voice, like now. 

Sekhmet waved her hand and a jolt of agony overcame the girl. Her old wounds had reopened and her body felt like it had been a toy during warfare. 

Sekhmet waited a moment too long before dropping her hand. The pain and agony had been washed away with relief. The girl could feel her wounds healing and her heart felt lighter. It always did. 

“See, young one? Let me save you and in return, you can save others like you. Become the protector you always needed. Protect those who believe, and heal those who are broken.” 

Overcome with euphoria at her closed wounds, the girl nodded. Accepting her fate. She was to be an avatar for the Goddess Sekhmet, a collection of balance. 

“I must warn you, child. I am good and I am evil. I am filled with bloodlust and a sun deity. I protect and I harm. I heal and I destroy. Can you handle it?” 

The girl locked her eyes on the moon. Could she handle it? Could she be chaos and peace all in one, especially when she had only ever known destruction? 

The girl met Sekhmet’s feline eyes. She watched as her deep eyes shined. For a split moment, the girl saw Sekhmet’s eyes soften and fill with warmth. Just as quick, the warmth disappeared. The girl watched Sekhmet struggle internally before deciding her fate. 

With a firm nod, the girl accepted the Goddess’s offer. She would become a protector. She would offer the world what no one offered her. 

Love.

          ☽

Blood dripped down your chin. The taste of your latest victim coated your tongue and you felt tears gather in your eyes. 

The blood of your enemies was sweet, but they weren’t your enemies. 

Dropping the body of your latest victim, you leaned against the large tree Sekhmet had chosen as her killing spot. A year as Sekhmet’s puppet, a monster, had destroyed you completely. 

Sekhmet was out of control, and yet in full control of you. 

As you wiped your chin and looked up at the moon, you thought back to the first few months of being in Sekhmet’s service. True to her words, you became a lioness. A force to be reckoned with.

Going around the world, you healed those in desperate need, the ones in search of an inch of warmth. You offered it and in return, grew the number of worshipers for Sekhmet. You used your different abilities to offer healing in any way you could. 

In your travels, you have developed different sides to you. During the day, when the sun shines on your skin, you are a protector, a healer, a hero to those around you. Some days, you are so filled with love you have no choice but to find ways to spread it. 

When night falls, you are filled with bloodlust. As the avatar for Sekhmet, it was your job to destroy the enemies of the Sun God, Re. Every night, you sought out those who served Apophis, the God of Chaos. Apophis’s followers caused havoc and chaos wherever they went, ruining peace everywhere. 

It was your job to restore it. 

In the beginning, you could handle it. You had learned to fight, and with Sekhmet’s strength, it became easy to do so. You would take down his minions and wash away the chaos plagued in their heart. 

However, for Sekhmet, it was not enough. As the nights went on, her bloodlust grew. She wanted to taste blood, watch her enemies fall to the ground with burst veins. She wanted power. Sekhmet wanted the glory Re had taken from her long ago. 

You had refused to indulge in Sekhmet’s bloodlust for months, but on the night of the full moon, months ago, you were not strong enough. Weak from her manipulation, you had tasted your first drop of human blood. 

The first taste changed you. Turned you into a monster you could not control. During the night, your body was not yours. You were trapped behind a veil as Sekhmet used you to play out her destructive desires. 

You needed help. You needed the Goddess gone. It had become too hard to fight her off when night fell. Tonight, you had only managed to gain control of your body near the end of the night. You had no control over your abilities, and it was killing you.

You closed your eyes and memories of killing and inflicting pain on others made your heart heavy with guilt. Sekhmet had killed thirteen men today. Five of them had been so young. Young men who did not know better. 

You knew of Apep’s manipulation. His ability to inflict chaos within the hearts of the purely innocent. You cringed at the thought of their blood. Corrupted and disloyal. It made your stomach churn, but it was the most satisfying taste for Sekhmet. She yearned for it, and it was never enough.

Clearing your throat, you pushed yourself off the tree. All you wanted right now was to lay in your bed and pray to a non-Egyptian deity to save you from this life. 

If you knew you were going to be a bloodsucking killer with different personalities, you would have just chosen death that night. Every night you ask Sekhmet to let you go, to kill you. And every night, she caresses your cheek and tells you she can’t kill her lioness. 

Lioness. 

“Sekhmet,” you call out to the air. “Bring me home.” 

You feel a pinch in your abdomen, and when you blink, you’re standing in your rundown apartment. You stare at the place you call home with dark, sullen eyes. 

It had been a long time since you had gotten a good amount of sleep. You refused to sleep at night, and you had too much to do during the day, so you barely ever slept. You were hoping exhaustion would kill you. It was slowly working.

Still, you kicked off your shoes and fell back on your bed. As your eyes shut, Sekhmet stood in the corner of your room, watching you silently. She vanished and reappeared in different clothing every second, but you paid no attention to her. She had been doing it since the night she had made you her avatar. 

Ignoring the Goddess, you shut your eyes. Trying to keep the memories of tonight at bay.

☽

Blinking, you stared up at The National Gallery of London. You don’t know how you got here. You let instinct guide you. Letting the gentle, melodic voice in your head steer you. The one that kept you company whenever the sun was up. 

You started walking up the large steps with a small smile on your face. You had never been to London, and you loved museums. In the last year, you had spent the majority of your time in Cairo. Many of Apophis’s followers stayed close to their roots. 

You made your way inside the museum with wide, curious eyes.  You weren’t sure who or what you were looking for, but you would make a trip out of it. 

Once inside, your eyes swept over the entrance hall of the museum. Your eyes fell on the security desk and a man whose eyes were stuck on his phone. Walking past, you caught the sight of otters on his screen. 

Cautiously, you made your way inside. You would just look at the free public exhibit, promising yourself to come again under better circumstances. 

Walking around, you soaked in everything. It was so interesting, you thought, to walk among history. 

“You walk with history herself,” Sekhmet mused behind you.

You glanced at the Goddess from the corner of your eyes. Sekhmet was different with the sun. Calmer, wiser, nicer. You liked her during the day. 

“Yeah, well, it’s not the same, is it?” 

You locked eyes with a child that heard you mumble to yourself and smiled. Instantly, the child smiled back, forgetting what he heard. 

As you neared the Ancient Egypt exhibit, your heart started beating faster. Something about it made your skin want to crawl. You wondered if it was Sekhmet warning you to keep moving. 

Your eyes locked on a statue, one that looked vaguely familiar. Your lips twitched up. “Is that you, Sekhmet?” 

Sekhmet followed your eyes and let out a sound of disapproval. It was her, while also not her. It was a different version of herself— a better version of herself. She said nothing.

You walked closer to the statue, mesmerised by it. “No,” you mumbled. “This isn’t you.” You turned your head to face Sekhmet, a wild look in your eye. “Who is this, Sekhmet?” 

Sekhmet turned her head, facing the gift shop. “Hathor.”

Your throat felt like it was closing up. “Why does she look familiar?” 

Sekhmet didn’t answer you, she just disappeared. You let out a scoff. If she wouldn’t answer your questions, you would get answers yourself. 

Your eyes swept the exhibit. There were a few tour guides but they all had groups with them. Your eyes fell on a man’s back, and you froze. Standing near him was a tall bird-like skeleton figure. Instantly, you knew he was a God. You had met other Avatar’s, but it never ended well. You could see their God’s, but they could never see yours. 

Sekhmet hid from them all. 

Forcing yourself to move, you walked to him. He was standing near the entrance to the Egyptian exhibit. 

You stood a few feet behind him, hesitating. He looked like he was waiting on someone. You saw the red lanyard around his neck and realized he was a tour guide. 

You cleared your throat. “Excuse me?” 

The man instantly turned around and your eyes met dark, startled ones. You smiled. The man standing in front of you had curly hair and slightly hunched shoulders, his clothes had a few wrinkles in them but he looked like he tried his best. Your eyes took in his face; a big nose, high cheekbones, and an anxious smile. 

He was handsome. 

“Sorry–” He straightened out his cardigan. “Are you here for the two o’clock tour?” 

You shook your head, pursing your lips. His accent seeped into your bones. Your eyes caught the name tag on his cardigan. Steven. With a V. 

“No, uh, I actually was hoping to ask you a question. About an Egyptian statue. It’s okay if you’re busy. I can find someone else.” 

As you talked, you tried not to look at the God standing behind Steven. You could feel the hollow eyes on you. 

Steven’s eyes lit up. He loved questions. Smiling at you, he tilted his head. “I’ve got time. How can I help ya?” 

“Great,” you grinned at him. You pointed at the statue behind you. “Is there a reason that the statue over there looks like Sekhmet but isn’t?” 

Steven’s eyes followed to where you pointed. His eyes fell on the statue of Hathor and he grinned, pleased to talk about what he knew. What was safe. 

“It looks like Sekhmet because it’s a version of her. The kinder, more humane version of her. That is Hathor, The Goddess of Love, Music, Joy, The Sun, The Moon, Agriculture, and a bunch of other things.” 

Steven watched your expression as he spoke. He saw the way your lips turned down and parted. The scrunch of your eyebrows. He watched as some type of realization passed through you. 

“Can… Can they exist at the same time? Hathor and Sekhmet?” You were breathless. There was a war going on in your mind, in your heart. Things wanted to connect, but something was blocking it. 

You caught Steven’s eyes and let out a small sheepish smile. “Hypothetically, I mean.” 

Steven narrowed his eyes slightly before shrugging. “Yes and no. Legends say that Hathor turned into Sekhmet when Ra wanted to punish humankind. When Sekhmet grew too violent, Ra got her drunk and she woke up as Hathor.” Steven paused, feeling a hum of energy from you. Cautiously, he continued. “Some legends say that Hathor and Sekhmet split, and that Sekhmet was never put away.” 

Your breathing quickened and you were staring at Hathor’s statue with wide, unmoving eyes. Steven’s eyebrows furrowed and he laid a gentle hand on your shoulder. “Are you alright?”

When Steven’s hand made contact with your shoulder, you let out a strangled breath and jumped. Steven instantly pulled his hand away, startled. Your touch sent a rush of electricity through him. 

You stared at Steven with glazed eyes. “You’re in pain.” It wasn’t a question. 

Hesitantly, Steven nodded. He was always in pain. How could you know that? 

You let out a deep breath and blinked a few times, seemingly realizing where you were. You smiled at Steven, hoping to leave before anything happened. 

“Thank you for your help, Steven, but I have to get going!” 

You turned around and rushed out of the museum, not sparing Steven a glance. Your mind was racing and your heart was beating out of your chest. You had a lot to think about. 

Steven watched you run out with confused eyes. He was still rubbing his hand when he felt Khonshu appear beside him. 

“Who was that?” Steven whispered. 

Khonshu watched you disappear into the London crowd. “The Avatar of someone I hoped to never see again.” 

  ☽

Marc was running. Running faster than he had in a long time. Marc forgot how exhilarating running through the forest was. The uneven land, hidden traps, and critters kept him alert as he searched for the killer he had been after for months. 

When Steven had stumbled upon the body of an elderly man, drained of blood, he quickly surrendered the body to Marc. 

“He’s close,” Marc had told Steven. “The man we’ve been searching for is here.” 

Wrapped in his ceremonial armour, Marc was running after the monster that had been terrorizing him for the past few months. This man–vampire–had killed one of Marc’s informants. Khonshu had then informed Marc about a monster that had been killing innocent people around the globe. Khonshu had given Marc the order to find the man responsible and kill him. 

Killing the innocent under Khonshu’s moon was forbidden. 

Now, Marc ran towards the strong scent of blood. Whoever was killing all these men was not clean about it. The trail of blood was easy to follow. 

When the scent grew too strong, Marc stopped. He shifted his footing to defensive and scanned the area of thick forest. His only light source was his friend, the moon. 

Marc’s eyes landed on a large oak tree. His eyes turned into celestial slits when he heard heavy breathing. He had found you. Finally. 

Your back pressed against the oak tree as you tried to control your breathing. Sekhmet had given you control of the body when she felt the presence of another person. The one chasing you. 

You squeezed your eyes shut, unable to look at the blood on your hands. You could still taste the blood on your tongue, bitter and cold. 

“You kill like disease, and yet you hide like a coward.” 

At the sound of a deep American accent, you shuddered. You would kill this man. He would die and you would not be able to stop it. You had to warn him. 

“You have to get away from me,” your voice cracked. “I might kill you.” 

You could feel him getting closer and you pressed yourself further into the tree until it burned. You shut your eyes, fighting the itching bloodlust in your throat. 

Marc jumped and landed on one of the oak’s branches. He was crouched down, his eyes on your small figure. Pulling two crescent darts, Marc scanned the area before him. 

A body lay near you, unmoving. He clenched his jaw. He had let someone else die. “You might kill me, but I will kill you.”

Marc jumped from the branch and landed right in front of you. Your eyes fluttered open and stared at the being in front of you in awe. A tall muscular figure, clad in white wrappings and hieroglyphics stood before you. His face was covered and his cape wavered in the wind. 

You watched the bright, glowing eyes take you in. Marc moved towards you, his arms ready to strike. Before the blade touched you, you dropped your hands and moved into the light. Marc paused. 

Marc’s breathing fluttered at the sight of you. On your knees, your hair was pulled back into an undone braid, blood stained your lips and chin and was smeared on your forehead. Your figure was shaking. What caught Marc off guard was your eyes. 

Shining with tears and an uncontrollable amount of pain, you let out a small whimper. “Please,” you whisper. “Please kill me. Please do it fast. I can’t do it again. I can’t. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. I never mean too.” 

A rush of emotions passes through Marc. He was expecting a monster, something out of Steven’s science fiction novels. He wasn’t expecting you, a beautifully broken girl with enough grief to kill a village. The last person Marc was expecting was the strange girl Steven talked to at the museum.

Putting his darts away, Marc falls to the ground in front of you. His hood comes down and the wrappings covering his face come undone, revealing his face to you. 

Through falling tears, you let out a small gasp. You knew that face. “Steven?” Marc shook his head. “Not quite,” he said. “I’m Marc.” 

Marc watched with keen interest as you formed his name on your lips. “Marc?” 

Nodding, Marc moved closer to you. His eyes stayed on your trembling red-stained hands. 

“You’ve killed so many people.” 

Marc’s eyes move to your face, where a fresh set of tears fall. You nod, unable to stop yourself. “I know,” you say. “It’s not me, though.” You look into Marc’s eyes with desperation he’s only ever seen in himself. “You have to believe me, Marc. It’s Sekhmet. She takes over. She’s killing all these people.” 

Marc said nothing as he watched you. He realized you were terrified. Not of him, but yourself. He didn’t know what to think. He had never heard of a God taking over their Avatar’s body to commit crime. Before Marc could answer, Khonshu appeared behind him. 

Marc watched as your eyes travelled from his eyes to the God behind him. He watched as your eyes watered once again and you tried to form words. 

“She’s telling the truth.” 

Marc let out a breath at Khonshu’s words. “Gods aren’t supposed to take over.”

Khonshu moved closer and you subconsciously moved closer to Marc. Khonshu’s hand hovered over your cheek and he let out a quiet hum. “No,” Khonshu agreed. “But Gods can.” Stepping back, Khonshu stared at you for a long time. “There’s more than one in her.”

Marc’s eyes stayed on you as you nodded hesitantly. His heart felt like it was being pulled at when you used your bloodstained hand to wipe your tears, smearing blood on your cheek. 

“Sekhmet and another one. I think it’s Hathor. But…” you trail off. You stare at Khonshu until you focus on Marc again. “I think Sekhmet is keeping Hathor away. It hurts. The killing, the war inside me.” Marc’s eyes widen when you grab his hand. With wide, desperate eyes, you plead to him. “Please, Marc. You have to kill me.” 

Khonshu looks down at you. “My Hathor…”

Marc’s eyes were on your hand. You wrapped your hand around his fingers, burning them. He felt an ancient yearning awaken in him and he tried his best not to pull away. 

“I’m not going to kill you.” Marc had said those words before, but this was the first time he meant them. You frowned, your expression broken. “Please.” Marc shook his head. “Sekhmet is using your body. She needs to be stopped. I’m going to help you.” 

“If Sekhmet is not gone before the lunar eclipse, she will rain havoc on mankind again. You do not have a lot of time, Marc Spector.” 

Marc took your hands in his. His eyes softened at the innocently desperate expression in your eyes. 

You were in danger, and in pain. Marc, Steven, and Khonshu quietly swore to themselves that they would save you before it’s too late. 

You, their lioness. 

[buckysendoftheline]

No One Can Hurt You 

summary: they would never bring you into the face of danger, but what if danger comes preying on you? 

pairing (s): marc spector x reader, steven grant x reader, jake lockley x reader

word count: 2.7k

warning (s): break in, intruders, hurt/comfort

moon knight masterlist

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．

You had never been in the face of danger before. Your boyfriends would throw themselves off a cliff before they let anything bad happen to you. You were so precious to them that they would shield you from the horror of the world with all of their might. Of course, you knew what they do once the moon decorated the night sky, but they never let you get exposed to any danger. 

You were the only person who could make them feel normal, sane, and they never wanted to taint your innocence with what they were doing. And to their relief, you were okay with it. As long as they came back to you, safe and sound, then you would never ask a question.  So used to feeling safe all the time, you never expected that night to happen. 

It was around 2 a.m. when you were jolted awake by a loud crash just outside of your home. Rubbing your eyes in a sleepy daze, you sat up in bed, thinking that your mind was tricking you. You grabbed your phone and saw a text from Marc who was fronting that night, saying good night and he loved you. You smiled, realising the text was sent just a few minutes before you fell asleep. 

Another crash was heard and it alerted you to get out of the bed, gripping your phone tightly. You wanted to think that it was Marc who was outside of your home right now, but then again he had a key and if he left it, he would knock. He always did. He said he did not want to scare you, and you knew it was not him who was creeping outside of your home at the moment.

Walking out of your bedroom,  you tried your hardest to be optimistic, that maybe your neighbour was getting in their home, dropping things on their way. It was foolish, but you just wanted to think of anything that could avoid you from being in a frightening situation which you were in. 

But your heart ran a mile, fear was pumping through your veins as your eyes locked at the front door, seeing that someone was trying to break it. You shook your head, realising it must be more than a person who was breaking into your home, as you could hear distant whispers from them. 

Your feet was glued to the floor, tears started to flood in your eyes. You wanted to tear your gaze from the door, but you could not. It felt like they could break the door anytime now, and you did not know what to do. 

“Marc..”

You whispered under your breath, the thought of him was comforting you a bit. 

You ran into your bedroom, locking the door before getting in the closet. You did not know if you were doing the right thing, but fear was clouding your mind as you called your boyfriend, hoping that he would answer.

After what felt like eternity, you heard his voice. You called out his name, not realising that your words were lost in your sobs, and tears were rolling down upon your cheeks. You had never felt so scared before that you felt like you might pass out in the closet.

“Why are you crying? Did something happen?”

His questions only made you cry harder, pulling your knees up against your chest as you tried to hide yourself even more if that was possible. Marc was on the other line, his heart was sinking to his stomach at the sound of your gut-wrenching sobs. 

“Y/N, talk to me, sweetheart.”

“There’s someone outside. They’re trying to break the door and— And I don’t know what to do.”

Silence. Your heartbeat quickened as you could not hear him anymore, and it made you think of the worst.

“Marc, I’m scared.”

“I’m coming to you, sweetheart. It’s going to be okay.”

He promised, but you did not miss the tremble in his voice, worrying about you as he could hear how scared you were. 

“Where are you?”

“I’m in my room. In the closet.”

“Alright, stay there. I’m coming.”

At his words, you were worried that he would stop talking to you and you would be alone again, with the intruders. But Marc stayed on the line, comforting you as much as he could. 

“Y/N? Are you there? Tell me what’s going on.”

He frantically asked, as he heard you screamed. His heart shattered, hoping that nothing bad was happening to you. Then he heard your voice again, calming him down a bit. But your next words made his blood run cold.  

“They broke the front door… They’re coming in.”

You cried, hugging your phone close to your chest as Marc was no longer responding to you. You did not know what was going on with him, but he had stopped talking and you were scared to death. You needed him there with you. 

You could hear footsteps coming closer towards your bedroom, and you prayed that they would take what was in the living room and leave. But that did not happen. A loud bang could be heard and you flinched, trying not to scream. 

They were trying to get into your bedroom. 

Putting a hand over your mouth, you silenced your cry as you felt fear growing in your chest. You tried to think of your boyfriends, wanting to believe that they would get here in time and everything would be fine. The thoughts dissolved from your mind when you heard another set of footsteps coming, letting you know that there was another intruder who just arrived, and when he did, your bedroom door was flung open. 

You could not think of anything that would make them come to you. Perhaps they just wanted money and they would leave. You knew you were wrong when your life suddenly became a walking nightmare, as they opened the closet, amused smirks were on their faces once they spotted you.

They were not looking for anything else, but you. 

“Let me go!”

You screamed, as they dragged you out of the closet by your arm. You hated to see how proud they were to see the fear in your eyes, and you were not letting them get the satisfaction. It was imprudent but you were not going down without a fight. 

Somehow you managed to kick one of the men in the groin, making him fall on the floor. It only seemed to anger the other two when one of them easily held you back, since he was much bigger than you. You glared daggers at the man who was standing in front of you, swallowing the fear which was starting to suffocate you. 

“I know you’re scared. But if keep your mouth shut, we’ll make this easier for you.”

If you were not so frightened, you would have rolled your eyes at his words. You did not know where you got the courage, but he pissed you off so much with his arrogance when he was breaking into your home. 

“You’re that pathetic that you need to bring your friends just to get me alone?”

The man was not happy, but you did not regret a word you say. He slapped you hard across the face, that you could taste blood on your tongue. A groan escaped your lips, staring back at him who had a nasty smile on his face. 

“You’re going to regret laying your hand on me.”

“Why would I?”

He laughed, and you tried to get out of his friend’s grip when he threw you on the bed harshly. Tears streamed down your face as you felt another slap on your cheek, your ears were ringing and you were getting dizzy. You were sure there was blood on your face, and the thought of dying was chasing you. 

You thought you were imagining things when you saw a familiar figure standing in the room, but then when you heard his voice, you almost cried again, but not out of fear this time. 

“Close your eyes, princesa.” 

Jake’s voice was enough to comfort you, as you closed your eyes. Knowing how violent he could be, you did not dare to open your eyes before he asked you to. Jake would hate himself if you ever had to witness him murdering those people, even if he was protecting you. He never wanted your head to be tainted with the murders. You were his heart, his innocence and his trust— And he loved you to death. 

Hearing screams from the men, you almost felt bad, but then you reminded yourself that you should not. Minutes felt like hours when you finally felt arms around you, making you flinched in fear. 

“It’s me, princesa. It’s alright now. Look at me.”

You opened your eyes to find your lover’s gaze on you, and you did not wait any second to throw yourself into his arms. Jake could hear the breaking of his heart as you sobbed into his chest, body trembling with worry and fear from what just happened. 

“When you said that they broke the front door, I took over from Marc. Do you need Marc? I can—“

“Please don’t leave me.”

You buried your face closer in his chest if that was possible, and Jake would put a bullet in his head before he could leave you crying like that. The only reason he offered to let Marc front was because he thought he was the worst at comforting you, but it was clear you did not want him to leave, and he was more than happy to provide you comfort. 

“I need to get you out of here first. Is that alright?”

You nodded weakly, realising that there must be bodies in your bedroom right now. The thought sent shivers running down your spine, not daring to look around as Jake carried you in his arms, a hand was covering your face to make sure that you did not see anything that was going on the room. 

You only opened your eyes when you felt the comfort of Steven’s bed, their bed, and Jake placed a kiss on your forehead. He looked at you for a moment, contemplating whether to tell you or not about what he was feeling. But when you nuzzled your face in the crook of his neck, he knew he had to. You were so important to him.

“I was scared something bad would happen to you, and I never get scared before.”

He confessed, caressing your face in his hands softly. His gaze hardened when he saw a bruise started to form on your face. Your bottom lip was split, and his heart clenched at the sight of your blood. He could tolerate blood but not yours. They hurt you. 

“As long as I’m here, no one can hurt you ever again.”

Rage was dripping from his voice, but you knew it was not directed to you. Seeing a frown on his face, you put your hands on his wrists. Your touch calmed him down, and only you had the effect on him. 

“I’m safe now. Thank you for saving me. I love you.”

Jake shook his head, not believing that you were thanking him. He felt like he was going to die when he saw those men in your home, and he never wanted you to feel threatened ever again. 

“I love you.”

He whispered, kissing your forehead again, just to remind himself that you were there in his arms and you were safe. You let him hold you, knowing that he needed to feel your presence. After a moment, you felt him shifted a bit, a faint smile found its way on your face. 

“Love? Are you alright?”

Steven was worried as he sat up in bed, putting his hand on your chin as he studied your face. He winced when he noticed that you were hurt, and the look in his eyes almost made you cry. 

“It’s okay, Steven. Don’t worry about me.”

“It’s not okay, love. You’re hurt.”

Steven felt a pang of guilt in his chest. He promised you so many times that he would never let anyone hurt you, and yet there you were, with bruised cheeks and bloodied lips. He wanted to tell himself that it could have been worse and he should be grateful that you were alive, but he could not help but be worried of you. 

“Steven, my love, I’m fine.”

You tried to convince him, as he treated your bruises with an ice pack, careful not to hurt you even more. Steven hushed you, and it brought a smile on your face. When he was done, he kissed your nose softly, making a chuckle escaped your lips. 

“I love you, Steven.”

His smile disappeared from his face, and you tilted your head a bit, wondering what was going on in his head. He took your hands in his, kissing your knuckles as he tried his best not to break into tears in front of you. 

“I love you too. I don’t know what I would do if something bad happened to you tonight.”

His voice cracked, and tears pooled in his eyes. You rested your forehead against his, the fear and worry that you felt tonight were nothing compared to the warmth of his arms. His scent comforted you in a way that only he could, making tears spilled from your eyes.

“I’m here now and I’m safe.”

Steven nodded at your words, letting himself cry as well. Seeing the bruises on your face was a reminder that someone had gotten to you, no matter how hard they tried to shield you away from danger, it seemed like the world has another plan for you. 

“Did you see what happen to them?”

You shook your head at his question, and he let out a sigh. Steven wanted the intruders to get what they deserved, but he despised the thought of you seeing what happened to them once Jake was there. The sight of killings would change you forever, and he would not want that. 

“Jake made sure that I saw nothing.” 

“We love you, you know that, right?”

You smiled, nodding your head. Steven laid in bed with you in his arms, drawing stars on your back as it always managed to lull you to sleep. However, you could not bring yourself to sleep, as the fear still lingered in the back of your mind, and Steven could feel how tense you were. 

You knew you were safe, and that was what you had been saying to your boyfriends. But your head was a cruel space, and it was as if you could still hear the loud crash outside of your home, and the breaking of your bedroom door. 

You did not realise that you were crying, not until your boyfriend wiped your tears away. You looked up at him, recognising his warm eyes right away as you let out a choked sob from your throat.

“Marc..”

Your whimper struck him across his heart, and his arms around you tightened. He would always be there to chase your fear away. He would die protecting you if he had to. He would choose you over the whole world if it ever came to it. 

“I’m here, sweetheart. I’m here.”

You curled your hand in fist around his shirt, as he pulled you closer to him. You only needed to know that he was there, and it was enough to let you know that you did not have to be scared of anything now. Marc was there with you. 

“I love you. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

He promised, rocking you in his arms gently. You felt safe around Steven and Jake, but there was something about Marc that felt like home, and you could feel your eyes fluttering shut at the sound of his voice.

“I love you too, Marc.”

You finally let sleep claimed you, as Marc stayed awake for the rest of the night, never once did he take his gaze away from your sleeping figure. And when you woke up the next morning, Marc kept his promise as he was still there with you. Your lovers would never leave you.

[buckysendoftheline]

Weird Nicknames

Steven Grant x reader

Words: 375

FLUFF BINGO

It started early.

“Good morning moon boy.”

“Here you go love bug.”

“This is for you, my baby faced beauty.”

“See you later fuzzy wuzzy.”

At first it all seemed like a great joke, calling him silly nicknames throughout the day, each one slightly goofier than the last. But it wasn’t the funnest prank when all day, after each name he would just respond with his usual wide toothy grin to each name.

“Hey can you please hand me that?” You asked, pointing his attention to the book that lay on the shelf close to him. Without missing a beat Steven reached up and grabbed the book you had been reading since yesterday and passed it to you.

“Thanks, boo boo bear,” you thanked, taking the book from him.

You thought that would earn a strange look from him but all it got you was another one of his famous smiles.

That’s it.

Dropping the book beside you, you shook your head unable to take it anymore. “Okay, why won’t you call me out?”

Steven looked at you, standing with confusion forming on his face. “Sorry. What?”

“I’ve been calling you these dumb, weird names all day and you haven’t called me out once. No strange expressions, no comeback of your own.”

Steven’s eyebrows pressed together crease deepening in the middle as he seemed to be in thought.

Your shoulders dropped a new sort of realization hitting you, “you didn’t notice?”

Steven quickly refuted the idea, waving his hands in the air, “no, no. Trust me, I noticed.”

You giggled a little at his fast movements and he breathed out a smile at the sound. Collecting himself he sat down across from you on the mattress in his room.

“I guess I didn’t say anything because,” he shrugged unsure of why he reacted the way he did. “I guess I don’t care what you call me. The fact is you call me and I love that.”

Although you felt some shyness to his words, you could feel the warmth of your heart melting at his confession.

“Oh Steven,” you sighed, shaking your head and lifting your hand to meet his arm. “Come here you goofball,” you said, before leaning to press your lips to his.

[buckysendoftheline]

Recreating this iconic pic of Oscar Isaac eating hot cheetos with chopsticks, but with a moonknight twist 😭🤚

[buckysendoftheline]

Quickly and Quietly part 1

Okay! so this is the first installment of the fic I’ve been writing, and its my first fic so I hope at least one person likes it.

 Summary: reader is training to become an Avenger bad things happen on a mission, there’s some comfort from multiple parties

word count: 2298

warnings: language, mild violence

I woke from a horrible nightmare, a blood curdling scream ripping its way out of my throat. I sat bolt upright in bed, breathing heavily drenched in a cold sweat. A twinge of pain shoots through my right shoulder and I immediately clapped my hand over it. My hands contact with my shoulder is met by the dull clang of flesh against metal.

At first I’m  surprised at the sight of my arm, but I slowly remember the events that brought about the necessity of its replacement. It was what I was having a nightmare about, though my current recollection is much more calm. Soon the memories cloud my vision.

Nearly a week ago I had gone on my second assignment with the Avengers. We were sent to infiltrate a H.Y.D.R.A base in the dead of night. The buildings had been thought to be abandoned after the Winter Soldier disappeared. Those thoughts, of course, were wrong. We had reached the middle of the complex when a rather large group of H.Y.D.R.A agents ambushed the team from the shadows. I was the only powered person with the team that night (Wanda and Pietro had been asked to stay behind in New York to look after the tower.) and because I can pull fire out of thin air I lit the place up, setting wooden desks and now obsolete files ablaze. With the extra light the team was able to go about picking H.Y.D.R.A agents off one by one. (Well the Black Widow worked much faster than everyone else taking out four agents at a time.)

          I remember taking out two men and soon after a searing pain in my right bicep. A bullet had torn it’s way through. I whipped around to find the H.Y.D.R.A agent still standing there and with a loud animalistic screech I charged him and manage to snap his neck with one hand, but not before they had managed to fire another round into my right shoulder. They used a larger caliber bullet this time, which mostly just pissed me off at the time because it put my right arm out of commission for the rest of the fight. It wasn’t until after the group of H.Y.D.R.A agents had been taken care of that anyone, including myself, noticed that your arm was practically being held to my body by threads.

The team rushed me back to the quinjet and laid me in the middle of the floor of the aircraft. I had lost a lot of blood and was having trouble breathing. Dr. Banner made the decision to remove my arm right then and there. The process was painful and involved a lot of screaming and sad whimpering on my end. There was whispering from Tony and Bruce once my arm was removed but I could barely hear it. My head was in Steve's’ lap, Nat was running her hand across my hair and face and Thor was clutching my left hand. Their attempts and comfort were greatly appreciated, though I was trying really hard to not cry.

Keep reading

[buckysendoftheline]

Baby’s First Heartbreak

pairing: marvel cast x teen!fem!reader, Scarlett Johansson x reader, Elizabeth Olsen x reader

prompt: the youngest member of the marvel cast experiences her first breakup.

warnings: not much—crying, a break up.

A/n: Tom is 19 here because this is set during Civil War. He was such a baby omg🥺

You were always a firm believer in having hope. No matter what the situation was, you knew that you had to at least try before fully giving up. You were only 18, but it was the mindset you grew up with. You were taught to face things with bravery and confidence, you faced things head to head with all your might. Though some things never went the way you planned, you were still the ray of sunshine you were, all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, eager to learn and explore the world.

You had the same mindset going into your first relationship. Love was something you’ve always wanted to experience. Sure, you received it from your friends and family. But you wanted the different kind of love. The special one that was shared between two people. The one that made your heart skip a beat and made you breathless. Where staring into that special someone’s eyes felt like you were being transported into another world where it was just the two of you.

You’ve found that kind of love in a boy from your hometown. The two of you had been friends since pre-k, growing up along side each other, and being there for each other’s success and failures. You’ve known him all your life but the feelings didn’t come till sophomore year of high school. It all just clicked all of sudden; that one day where he said you looked cute in his jumper and the next moment you knew you were seeing him in a new light. Junior year, you were both beating around the bush; constantly pining over each other with longing stares and fingers always brushing against each other. Though you didn’t see him all the time due to your job as an actress. You spent half of the school year in your hometown and the rest at Atlanta. Of course he knew of your job and as much as he hated to see you go, he knew you were doing something that made you happy. So he spent as much time as he could with you before your time together came to an end. A few days prior to your flight to Atlanta, under the night sky of your backyard, he admitted his feelings for you. By senior year, the two of you had been dating for half a year. It had been the best moments of your life, you were in love and high on happiness, it was like nothing in life could ever go wrong.

Now here you were, in your trailer on the set of Captain America: Civil War, sobbing you eyes out. You knew loving could hurt, but not this much. You still felt your heart skip a beat, but it was clenching in heartache. You were still breathless, but because you’ve been trying to catch your breath after every sob that wracked your body. You felt broken. The boy you loved had ripped your heart out of your chest and threw it onto the floor, stomping on it till it stopped beating.

You hiccuped as you stared at yourself in the mirror. You were nothing but a fool. A fool who had hope in something that was never going to work. You sniffled as you snatched tissues out of the box on your bathroom sink, dabbing the material onto your eyes and blowing your nose. Your eyes were red and your cheeks were puffy. A sigh of frustration releases from your body. There was no way you could walk onto set without people asking you what was wrong.

You debated asking your assistant to ask your designated makeup artist to do your makeup in your trailer, you didn’t want to be a bother. But your thumbs were already shamefully typing away the request on your phone. A few minutes later Eleanor, your makeup artist on set, arrives at your trailer with her supplies in hand.

She doesn’t directly question you, but she has the look of a concerned mother once she sees your face. You lie to her and tell her you weren’t having a good day and chalked it up to being homesick.

You dreaded going on set. You weren’t sure if you could face anyone without bursting into tears. The moment you felt like you were okay, your heart would clench, reminding you of the ache it was feeling.

You were in your costume, sitting on the sidelines of the set while you rehearsed your lines. The dialogue from the script acted as a distraction from the current pain you were feeling. The tears had stopped but your eyes felt dry, making you blink multiple times to keep them wet.

“Hey, sweetheart.” You look up and meet the stunning blue eyes of Chris Evans. That typical goofy smile of his was etched onto his features. Usually you would reciprocate that smile, but today you just couldn’t find it in your heart to do so. His smile falters when he sees your face.

“Morning.” You greet him, forcing a smile. Concern shadows on his face as he shifts a bit closer to you. “You alright?” He asks, eyes softening at you. Being the youngest of all the Avengers cast members, everyone had a soft side for you. Especially Chris, who saw you as a daughter.

“Y-yeah, I’ve just got—allergies.” You lied, another fake smile forcing itself onto your lips.

“Well have you taken something to help your allergies? Do you need Allegra? Claritin or something?” He looked around ready to call one of the runners on set to get you some meds.

“No! I took some already, a few minutes ago! It probably hasn’t kicked in yet.” You tell him. He eyes you reluctantly, not knowing if he should believe you. He decides to let it pass and nods, “Ok, tell me if you need anything though.”

You hum in response and tilt your head down back to your script.

The day goes on and everyone had caught on to your lack of—being you. The infamous smile everyone knew you by was barely on your face. You didn’t crack jokes with Anthony or share a giggle with Elizabeth. Instead you were quiet, a frown was on your face as you stared blankly at the floor. You didn’t interact with anybody, keeping to yourself and walking off set whenever one of the Russos called cut.

Anthony and Sebastian watched as you walked off the set. You have all finished a sequence of the airport scene and the Russos had given everyone a break while they rewatched the scenes they shot. Anthony’s brows furrowed while he watched your figure go further and further away. He had tried to cheer you up, telling you a joke about how Seb’s arm lube kept leaking out his fake arm. Your response was nothing but a fake laugh—it wasn’t even a fake laugh, more like a huff of laughter.

“She didn’t laugh at my joke.” Anthony thought aloud. Sebastian quirked an eye at his friend, “Does she have to laugh at all your jokes?”

“No, but even if I tell her a corny ass joke, she’ll still laugh at it.” He expressed, throwing his arms up. Sebastian’s lip pouted as he thought back to your behavior on set. You were acting unusual. He turns to Tom (Holland) and asks, “Hey, has (y/n) said anything to you? Like anything bothering her?”

The Brit shakes his head, “Um, nope. Besides filming, I haven’t spoken to her today.”

Anthony crosses his arms, approaching Tom, “Have you tried speaking to her? We’ve been trying to figure out what’s been going on with her today and you’re the closest to her age here.”

“I—I tried to talk to her, but she didn’t seem in a talking mood. I thought I was bothering her so I just stopped.” Tom answered. He gestures to the direction of the trailers, “I could check up on her right now? Maybe I’ll get her one of her favorite snacks from crafties, it might cheer her up.”

Half of a smile makes it way onto Sebastian’s face at the boy’s efforts. Though you were clearly upset and he felt like they were all prodding at your privacy. “Maybe we should give her some time alone.”

Tom frowns at the older man, “But (y/n)’s upset. Shouldn’t we do something?” Anthony agrees with Tom and looks at Sebastian.

Seb raises his hands up in defense, “I’m just saying—maybe she wants to be alone. She went back to her trailer away from everybody. She probably doesn’t want us shoving our noses into her business, we should respect that.”

Chris joins the group along with Scarlett and Elizabeth. He had overhead the group talking and urged the two ladies to join him in on the conversation.

“You guys talking about (y/n)?” Chris asks, hands on his waist.

“Yeah, Seb says we should leave her be.” Anthony fills him in.

“She told me she had allergies.” Chris starts. “She’s an amazing actress, but kid’s gotta work on the lying.” He finishes. Elizabeth and Scarlett glance at each other.

“Well has anyone talked to her at all today? Besides Chris?” Elizabeth asked the group. Everyone shakes their head. Elizabeth sighs while looking around at anyone else who could’ve talked to you. She spots Eleanor hanging along the sides with her makeup belt on, ready for touch ups. Elizabeth calls her over. Eleanor has her brush ready to powder her down, but Elizabeth politely declines.

“You do (y/n)‘s makeup right?”

Eleanor nods, “Yeah, I do.”

“How was she this morning? We’re just a bit concerned since she’s been acting different today.” Eleanor sighs, knowing if she told them it would be an invasion of your privacy. Although, they were all concerned for you and so was she.

“I got a text from her assistant telling me to do her makeup in her trailer today.” She began. “I walked in and her eyes were red, cheeks puffy—“

Chris apologizes and interrupts her, “Because of allergies?”

Eleanor shakes her head, “No, she never mentioned anything about allergies. But she looked like she’s been crying. She was wiping her face when I arrived.”

“Did she give you a reason for why she was crying?” Scarlett questions her.

“She told me she was feeling homesick.” Eleanor answered. Scarlett turned to Chris and shared a look. Elizabeth thanks Eleanor then turns back to the group.

“We need to check up on her.” Anthony says. All the men nodded and began to make their way to your trailer. Suddenly, they were stopped by Scarlett and Elizabeth.

“But (y/n)—“ Tom said pointing to the trailers. Scarlett shakes her head, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Lizzie and I will go. You guys are gonna overwhelm her with all your questions.” Scarlett insists, much to the men’s dismay. They wanted to be there for you, but maybe a mother figure might help you open up with what’s bothering you. They agree and let the two women go to your trailer. Before they can get to you, they get some snacks from crafties for you.

As soon as you shut the trailer’s door behind you, the tears welled up in your eyes again. It only took a matter of seconds until they fell from your eyes and down your cheeks. You heard some people walk by outside and cover your mouth to muffle the whimpers that came out your mouth. You slid down the door and shoved your head into your hands. You leaned forward against your knees as you cried into your arms. You felt pathetic, embarrassed, anger; you were feeling so many things and the only way to let them all out seemed to be crying.

They heard your cries from behind the door. Scarlett sends Elizabeth an alarmed look as she rushes up to your door. She knocked on it repeatedly, causing you to jump from behind the door. Your cries come to a stop while you try to wipe away the tears as best as you can.

“(Y/n), honey, please open the door.” You hear Scarlett say. You remain silent, getting up and dusting your legs off. You stare at the door, debating whether you should open it or not.

“(Y/n), everyone’s worried about you. We just want to help.” Another voice coaxes you behind the door. Elizabeth. “Please let us in.”

Outside, the two women had their ears pressed up against your trailer’s door. Scarlett tries to get you to open the door again, “It’s only me and Lizzie. I promise.”

There was some shuffling heard behind the door. The door pushes open slowly, making Scarlett and Elizabeth back away. A worried expression appears on Scarlett’s face once she sees you. She cups your cheeks, her thumbs gently swiping away some tears that fell from your eyes. The two of them shuffle inside your trailer. You burst out into tears once again when Scarlett wraps her arms around you. She moves you both to sit on the couch that was in your trailer. She lets you shove your head into the crook of her neck while her hands smoothed your hair. Elizabeth sits behind you rubbing circles onto your back. Your cries broke both their hearts. You were a fairly happy girl, to see you in such pain and heartache was hard to watch.

Scarlett rocks you back and forth, trying to calm you down by whispering comforting words into your ear. She presses a motherly kiss onto your forehead once she sees you start to calm down. Elizabeth waits patiently beside you waiting for when you’re ready to talk. When your whimpers turned into hiccups, Scarlett pulls your face away from her neck to look at you. She frowns when she sees your tear stained cheeks.

“Are you going to tell us what’s going on or are you going to keep bottling it up to yourself?” She asks you softly, tucking strands of your hair behind your ears. Elizabeth chimes in from behind you, “You know, sometimes it helps to tell others what’s bothering you. You don’t have to keep it to yourself, (y/n), you could talk to us.” She gathers your hair together, splitting it into two parts as she began to fish tail braid your hair. 

You take a moment to compose yourself before eyeying the two women. You knew you could trust them. Scarlett was like your on-set mom and Lizzie was like one of your aunts. If you could tell anyone on set what was going on, it would be them.

“He broke up with me.” You confess, eyes trained on your lap. Lizzie’s fingers stop braiding your hair, “What?”

“Peyton, he broke up with me.” You whined, not wanting to say it again. You fiddle with your fingers while a tear falls to your lap.

“Oh honey.” Scarlett cooes pulling you back into her chest. You sniffle and wrap your arms around her torso. Silently crying into her shoulder.

“Did he give you a reason why?” Lizzie asks softly. You move away from Scarlett’s hold and lean against the couch with your knees to your chest. Lizzie wraps an arm around your shoulder for comfort.

You glanced at your phone that was on the coffee table, “H-he texted me earlier this morning. He said he couldn’t do the long distance thing anymore and that he has feelings for somebody else.”

Anger flashes in Scarlett’s eyes, “He broke up with you over a text message?” You nod in response.

“What a dick.” She mutters glaring at your phone. It’s quiet for a few minutes. Until you ask them, “Am I not worth trying for a long distance relationship?”

Lizzie shakes her head, “No, don’t you ever think that because you are.”

You sigh and throw your head back, “Then why did he break up with me? Is there something wrong with me? Am I not pretty enough?” Scarlett interrupts your questions by shushing you.

“There is not a damn thing wrong about you. Don’t you ever let a man, let alone a boy, make you question your worth.” Scarlett advises you a stern look on her face. “You are the most sweetest and loveliest girl I have ever met in my life. You’re kind, you care about the people around you—you even laugh at Anthony’s stupid jokes.”

Lizzie snorts beside you and squeezes your shoulder, “And his jokes are the worst.”

Scarlett continues, “You are a talented young woman already making it big in the movie industry and you did it all on your own. You are beautiful inside and out. You’re perfect, there’s nothing wrong with you.”

“Then why did he leave me?”

“Because he’s an idiot that doesn’t know your worth.” Lizzie answers resting her head on your shoulder. “I know it hurts now but these things happen for a reason. He wasn’t meant for you and you weren’t meant for him. Maybe somewhere in the future you guys will meet and try again. Or maybe you’ll move on with someone new. That’s just how it is. It may sound harsh, but it’s the truth.”

Scarlett nods at Lizzie, “Take it from me, I’ve been married twice. When it seems like you found that special person, sometimes it’ll all come crashing down. And it’s not an easy thing to go through. It’s full of pain, heartache, self doubt and a bunch of other heart wrenching things. But in the end you come out a stronger version of yourself.”

You stare at Scarlett, “How did you do it?”

Scarlett softly smiles at you, “Well, I had lots of friends who supported me every step of the way. But most importantly, I valued myself. I did things that made me happy and took care of myself mentally and physically.”

You bite your lip in thought as you stare at the ground.

“Listen to me.” Scarlett urges you, “You’re young, (y/n). You’re going to meet so many more people in the future that’ll bring you so much happiness and love in your life. Don’t beat yourself up over one boy who decided to leave you because he wasn’t committed for a long distance relationship. You’re going to be okay.” She assures you, cradling your face. Your lips form into a tight smile while you nod in response.

“You have us and the rest of the people outside of this trailer to support you. We’ll always have your back, whatever it is, I promise you that. You’re not going to go through this by yourself.” Lizzie promises you, taking your hand into hers. You hum and rest your head on her shoulder. You pull on Scarlett’s arm to join you and Lizzie. She chuckles and hugs you from behind.

“Thank you guys.” You whisper, genuinely grateful that you had them in your life. Lizzie pecks your temple, “Anytime darling.”