a collection of blurbs and headcanons from my tumblr, starryevermore.
ft. steven grant, marc spector, and jake lockley
[18+ MINORS DNI - INCLUDES EXPLICIT SEXUAL CONTENT]
request: hello! can i request a fem! reader where she woke up from a really bad dream? and can you do it with marc spector? thanks ! - anon
pairing: marc spector x fem!reader
word count: 536
warnings?: brief mention of marc's abuse, mention of nightmare, not proofread,
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Marc Spector was a notoriously light sleeper. If anyone ever asked about it, he would say it was because of his time in the military. But, if he was being honest, the light sleeping started long before that. People, the very, very few people, who knew about his mother, would wonder if it was because of her. In some ways, it became worse because of her. But, no, it started long before her, too. No, Marc was a light sleeper because of his brother. His sweet, baby brother whose nights were plagued with nightmares, who would crawl into his bed in search of comfort, who believed there were no dangers in the world that Marc couldn't keep him safe from. Even after all these years, Marc could wake at any bump in the night, ready to defend his brother from whatever he was scared of.
Nowadays, though, all that meant was that Marc woke up every few minutes because of the noisy traffic down in the streets, the thumps and bumps of his neighbors, and, occasionally, Steven's precarious piles of books toppling over, and all those sounds in between. Except, well, sometimes, it didn't. Sometimes, Marc was called upon to defend those who succumb to the terrors of nightmares.
When you began tossing and turning, Marc was awake in an instant. He sat up, propping himself up on his elbows, trying to assess the situation. Were you just trying to get more comfortable? Had he accidentally taken your half of the blankets? Were you about to wake up to go to the bathroom or maybe to get a midnight snack? But, then he saw the way your face pinched, the thin beads of sweat, how your breathing was more panicked.
He gave your shoulder a gentle shake, trying to pull you from whatever horrors haunted your mind. You pulled away, your face screwing up more, until another shake finally yanked you out of your nightmare. You woke with a gasp, eyes darting around the room before finally settling on Marc's worried face gazing down at you.
"What happened?" you mumbled.
"You were having a nightmare," Marc said. He leaned down, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "Wanna talk about it?"
You were quiet for a moment, chewing on your bottom lip, before saying, "I was dreaming that Khonshu made you go another a mission, but you didn't have that healing power anymore, so when you got attacked—"
You choked on a sob. Marc was quick to gather you in his arms, pressing your face against his chest, rubbing your back. "Shh," he whispered, "it's okay. It's okay. I'm here."
He held you, cradling you against his chest, until your cries quieted into sniffles, your breathing returning to normal. When he was sure you were calm, he asked, "Do you want to try to go back to sleep again?"
You shook your head.
"Okay. How about we put on a movie and watch that until you're ready to sleep again?"
You bit on your lip, before nodding. "Can we talk The Devil Wears Prada?"
Marc smiled slightly. "We can watch whatever you want. I just want you to feel safe from your nightmare."
