marvel oneshots| male reader

Used- Marc Spector & Steven Grant & Jake Lockley

pairing: marc, steven, n jake and gn!reader
summary: your mother figure uses u and upsets u so much that you wander to steven's apartment and marc n steven n jake take care of u, trying to make u feel better
genre: hurt/comfort, angst, fluff
requested? no
warnings: this is a vent fic so, vague emotional abuse ig, bad relationship w/mother figure, mention of marc's abusive mom, crying, kinda touchy feely, lot of pet names, jake threatens to kill someone for u, and mentions food at the end
a/n: istg all i post is vent fics so sorry about that ig, i tried to give the boys equal time but idk if that came across. anyway hope u guys are doing well, school is done for me soon so i'll have more time for this and hopefully finish up those requests soon :)

It's a strange thing for the person who's supposed to be like a mother to you to use you as she does. And now that you stop letting her use you like the piece of meat you feel like, she's sad and angry and disappointed. And your heart feels choked up and you're crying now. You lose your appetite and are sick to your stomach. You very much want to throw yourself into a street. But unfortunately for you, your body takes over as you retreat inside your mind, leading you to Steven's apartment. Your body slumps you against his door and quickly it's opened.

"What are you doing here?" Jake asks. Then he sees the tears and Steven takes over.

"Dear?" He bends down, caressing your cheek. "Come on," He wraps an arm around you and leans you against him, wrapping an arm around you, and guiding you inside. 

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," You mutter over and over again into his shoulder as your head falls against him. 

"What?" Steven looks at you with curious, concerned eyes as he sits next to you on the edge of his bed. "What have you got to be sorry for?" He takes a hold of your hand, rubbing his thumb over the top of it.

You shake your head, "No, no, no." You squeeze your eyes shut and more and more tears fall.

Steven's face falls before Marc fronts. 

Marc pulls you into his chest, combing his fingers through your hair at the back of your head. "Hey," He whispers, "Can you please tell me what's wrong?"

You start to hiccup as your cries grow worse. "I'm sorry," You howl out. 

"Sorry for what, sweetheart?" Marc leans in close his forehead lightly pressing against yours almost a feather-like touch and the warmth of his breath fans against your face.

Your eyes flicker up, looking into his. Your lips immediately curl down further; a significant grimace. "I don't wanna talk about it," You manage to answer with quivering lips and bleary eyes. "Please, I don't wanna-" You're cut off by Marc pulling you against him again. 

He rubs one hand up and down your back. His other hand cradles your head. Marc closes his eyes and Steven takes his place.

Steven pulls back, holding the base of your neck, looking at you so sympathetically. He shakes a little bit before he leans in pressing kisses against your forehead. It's something he only does when he knows you're having an especially hard time. "What can I do, love?" His forehead presses against yours almost like Marc's had but he's a little more confident in touching you (which any other time would not be the case). 

Your lips quiver as you look into his eyes and he holds your hands. Then you watch Steven's eyes roll back and hear Jake's voice.

"Who's the pendejo I have to kill?"

That actually makes you laugh. Jake was always quick to anger but it was just because he was very protective of you, of Marc and Steven too; that's just his nature. He's a natural-born protector if you will. You look at him with eyes that are far brighter than they've been and you give his hands a little squeeze. "I don't want you to kill my mom... or anyone for that matter."

"Your mom?" He asks softly. His eyes are soft as he looks at you and it makes you want to cry even more.

"Yeah..." You nod. You know this is a sore topic given Marc's mom's treatment of them. You look away, not able to meet his gaze. You sniffle and bring up a hand to your nose holding it there for a second before bringing it up further to wipe the tears from your eyes. Your other hand still holds his and your breath hitches when he gives it a squeeze. 

"Your mom, what did she do?" He squeezes your hand again gently.

"She just- She used me for something." You swallow, feeling a lump form in your throat. "That's all I wanna say right now," You drop your head and lean your body forward, softly crashing your head against his shoulder.

"Okay," You hear Jake say and you assume he's talking to Marc and Steven. He then leans his head down, whispering in your ear, "We're gonna take care of you, cariño mío (my dear)." And you know he means it, his words are always true (not that Steven or Marc's aren't). He pulls you against him as he moves across the bed to sit up against the headboard while you lay on top of him. He runs his hand over your upper body, rubbing gently at your back and sides.

---

A few hours later. Your head rests in your hand as you sit watching Marc in the kitchen. After laying with Jake for a while, then Steven as he rambled on about Egypt, and then Marc just in silence, he saw the time and decided to cook for the both of you. And you happily watch him now, feeling a lot better than earlier but still somber. It's only natural after all. A smile tugs at your lips as Marc does a little trick for you, looking at you with a goofy smile -something you only see once in a blue moon, he's always so serious. 

Another ten minutes go by and he plates the food before setting it out on the table, in front of you and himself. You two sit and eat quietly. You hum, savoring the taste. Marc's always been good at cooking, he just never really gets to exercise the skill. You compliment his cooking and the rest of the time is spent in comfortable silence. Marc finishes eating way before you do and reaches out for your hand, holding it gently while rubbing his thumb over your knuckles. You look at him and smile and he does the same.