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super-legalizelove · 2 years

Text

POKER

Steven Grant x Reader x Marc Spector

word count: 3.7k

genre: angst, dark-ish themes, fluff, suggestive themes

warnings: implied smut, angst, mentions of stalking, everyone just being a mess, especially marc, obsessive behavior

summary: Your relationship with Steven is constantly strained by the presence of Marc's disdain for you.

author’s note: I tried to be careful to be conscious of the presence of DID on this property, but if I wrote anything that is offensive or ignorant, please please please let me know.

MINISERIES MASTERLIST

The restaurant’s staff did a poor job at masking that they were sending you looks of pity every so often. Much like you, they were wondering when you were going to give up and shamefully admit that you had been stood up. You twiddled with your freshly polished fingers and checked your phone often as you nibbled on cold appetizers. It kept you busy since you had already tried calling thirteen times. Yet, it took the tenth couple eyeing you with concern on their way out for the embarrassment to finally make a bed under your skin. You ordered the first thing you could pronounce, and afterward, left the restaurant gripping your to-go plate as you looked at your phone one last time.

This experience wasn’t new, but you were already tired of having to find a restaurant that hadn’t seen what you looked like when you were in denial. It’s not like Steven didn’t want to come. It was the fact that he and Marc’s schedule clashed, and you were always at the receiving end of Marc’s negligence—you considered it forgetfulness to give him the benefit of the doubt.

Your journey home was entirely suffocated by unrelenting silence until you went walking into the elevator of your building just to see Marc there, looking just as tired as you were. He saw you coming from where he stood, but no matter how many times his fingers pressed the button, the elevator kept them open as a punishment. He was forced to witness the way your body clung to the dress you wore and how the ends of the skirt grazed over your smooth skin to mock him.

“Hi, Marc,” you said. You could tell by the way he clenched his jaw that it wasn’t Steven.

“Hi.”

The ride up had never been so long and you weren’t sure how to bring it up until you just spoke. “Hey, um, could you let Steven know he missed our date? I’m not sure if he tells you about them—”

“Yeah, something came up for me.” He hadn’t noticed, but his shoulders were tight as he kept his attention forward until the doors opened.

You followed after him with your shoes following the path he made and finally noticed how he held his side on his way to his flat. “Are you okay? Do you want me to—”

“I’m fine.”

“You don’t seem fine,” you murmured.

Your first mistake was thinking you could put your warm hand on his chilling, broad shoulders and not cause him to nearly leap out of his own body. You had touched Steven countless times. However, it was the first time Marc had ever gotten a sense of what it felt like for himself.

Still, he didn’t wish to savor it in the slightest. “Pretending to worry is what you do with Steven. Not me.” He recoiled from the heat so harshly that he was already at his door and into his humble home before you could take your keys out.

Marc never got to see the way your face fell or how you clutched your keychain and shoved the metal key into your door. You disappeared into your home, begging your tears to give you time to close the door before they got it all over your dress. All this was while Marc was eyeing a photo of you by the fish tank that you had given to Steven while he took off his shoes.

As he pretended to look over persimmons, Marc watched you from a distance as your soft lips mouthed the lyrics of a song while your fingers glided over the peaches. You made it too easy sometimes and for that, he was thankful. He could spend his weekend researching—that was the word he liked to use— while you were unaware.

You glided through the other aisles, and he was careful to keep his head low and stay a few steps behind you while watching the way you smiled at a store employee while asking a question. Your shining teeth made him frown even deeper as he gripped his shopping cart.

His frustration kept on building throughout the day as he watched you carry through your laundry list of errands. Everywhere you went, he was a step behind with enough distance to go unannounced but close enough to slip your wallet back into your tote bag while you left it in your cart to have a look at some home décor. You really should have been more cautious of pick pocketers.

Landing a punch to a stranger wasn’t how he liked to spend his Sundays. Neither was lying on his bed while you were showering at home. The cardigan you had left with Steven on accident was under his nose as he brought the fragrance into his lungs. He had your Sunday schedule memorized to a point where he was used to the feeling of wanting to resist snaking his hands into his tight pants as he thought about how your hands were rubbing your thighs while he was playing with a Rubik’s Cube. For Marc, hell was Sunday afternoons at 3 PM.

For you, hell was the bus ride home looking at your phone and all the piling missed calls and texts from Steven? You deliberately avoided opening the voicemails and the messages in hopes that you’d have more time to think about what you wanted to do. Your plan was to speak to him on Monday when you felt better, or at least when you could fake it better.

Your walk to the elevator was less eventful than the day prior, but that didn’t keep you from reliving the day before, especially when you saw Steven sitting crisscrossed next to your door while he read a book with a sand-colored cover. You would have ignored him while playing Marc’s words on repeat if he hadn’t met you at your door.

“Hey, Steven.” You were hoping to keep it short and sweet so you could send him on his way gently with a promise that you’d talk to him when you weren’t so fatigued.

“Hey.” He was already rubbing his sweaty palms on his pants with the book abandoned on the floor as he got up. “I tried to call you but—is your phone okay?” You were always so good at answering your phone. “Sorry,” he shook his head. “Sorry. I mean, ‘are you okay?’”

“I couldn’t answer, because I was at work. I’m sorry.”

You didn’t usually work on Saturdays, but that was the least of Steven’s concerns. “B-But what about dinner? We said we’d meet each other there. And I went—And I went and you weren’t there.” He was doing that thing where he was speaking much too fast to figure it out himself and in any other circumstance you would have thought it was endearing, but the crack of his voice nearly pressed your heart so hard it would have stopped beating.

“Yeah,” you let out a sigh while you dug through your purse to find your keys. “I went yesterday and didn’t see you. I figured Marc lost track of time or something.”

“Today’s not Saturday, is it?” he asked while he licked his lips anxiously.

You were pleased that fishing for your key gave you a distraction, since you couldn’t bear to see his face fall again while he experienced a crushing realization that he had already gone through two times before.

“I’m afraid it’s not,” you looked up at him with an evident crease between your brows.. “I’m sorry you were there alone. Marc didn’t leave you a sticky note by the tank telling you?”

“No-no, no, he didn’t.” He looked back at his apartment at the end of the hall like he could see through walls. “At least, I don’t think so.”

You bitterly laughed to yourself to shrug off the hurt that was making room for itself in your pensive thoughts. “I don’t think he likes me very much.” What you said out loud was really meant for yourself.

“No, no, that can’t be—He likes you.”

“Steven, don’t lie to me,” you tried to keep your tone light hearted, but your façade was slipping.

“I’m not.” His wide eyes were becoming glassy, and his lips tightened into a line as he tried to fix the damage. “I swear.”

You nodded while unlocking the door. “I’m gonna head in, okay? I’m a little tired.”

“Wait,” he took your hand and made you notice how his clammy arms were desperately shaking. “I’m sorry.”

Steven saw the way your face relaxed, and the corner of your lift lifted lightly for a moment. He watched you come close to then give him an electric kiss on his cheek that made his ears too hot for comfort.

“Please, get some sleep tonight.” You watched him close his eyes as he felt your hands hold his visage tenderly. Your thumbs carefully moved back and forth over his cheek. “You look pale.” You examined his face as you saw his frown deepen and chose to ignore it. “And tell Marc to take it easy.”

“Why do I get the weird feeling you don’t want to do this anymore? Like be with me. It’s on your face. Are you upset with me? I get it if you want to go into your flat and avoid me for the rest of your life—”

“Hey, hey, don’t say that. Just give me some time to sort this all out mentally first.” You were referring to your thoughts as your finger slipped into his dark hair to calm him down, but it only sent a shudder pouring down his spine like cold water while his knees almost gave in.

“Is this a break? Or a breakup? Bloody hell, are we breaking up?—”

You gave him another kiss, but on his lips. Your warm skin was on his mouth while your hand fondly stroked his neck. It nearly caused him to become entirely lightheaded. His eyes were blown open the entire time from the moment he felt your kiss. You pulled away to get one last look at him.

“No, we’re not.” You placed your forehead onto his as you tried to have him matched your breathing. “I just want some time, maybe one or two days, to think. I’m telling you this because I enjoy being honest with you. Just give me some time to think over some things, okay?”

Steven nodded fervently at your words.

“Alright,” you smiled. His face got warmer. “See you later, gator.”

“Laters, gators,” he whispered as he felt your hand slip out of his.

If Steven could properly chew out Marc, he would, but instead he was stuck yelling at a mirror while a disinterested Marc was asking him to surrender his body so he could start off his soon-to-be long night.

“No, you don’t get to ask me that without answering me first!” Steven pointed.

“Good, God, Steven. Calm down.” Marc looked as uninterested as ever.

“You did this!” Now Steven was pacing. “I don’t get it. You have so many photos of her like a bloody creep,” he grabbed one of the many in the bathroom drawer to wave around. “But you’re the one giving her a hard time?” Steven never figured out what was said when he was gone, but with the way you spoke about Marc and the way Marc spoke about you, it didn’t take much afterward.

“What does this have to do with me not telling you that I made you miss your date?”

“Everything!” His fingers combed through his hair as he tried to imitate what you did to him to calm him down. “For once in my life, I got the courage to ask someone to date me and you’re pissing all over it. You’re just as obsessed with her, but you don’t want to admit it.”

Why would Marc want to admit? That would mean that he’d have to also confess to how sour he was about Steven getting to you first. It didn’t make sense. He was under the impression that he’d get you and Steven would just have to follow along, as always. So while he looked at you sleeping with the white noise machine on, he gripped the spare key of your flat that was meant for Steven. He had found a way to forcibly turn his jealousy into a lack of trust that you had good intentions with Steven.

What was supposed to be no more than two days thinking about your relationship and Marc’s choice words turned into a seven. You had been so consumed by Marc’s accusation that you stewed in your thoughts for so long that you feared seeing Steven in passing on your way to work. You rose early and returned home extremely late. All the while, Steven spent his days at the gift shop anxiously checking his phone while typing and deleting messages that he hoped to have enough courage to send.

This brought him back full circle on Sunday, knocking on your door. Your brief look through the peephole wasn’t enough to prepare you to see him again. When you opened the door, you were met with a nervously still Steven wearing a suit that he seemed to be drowning in.

He must have not expected you to actually answer the door because once he saw you were still in your work clothes, he panicked.

“Bollocks.” He quickly pulled out the card that you didn’t know he was holding. “I falafel about what happened.” His eyes followed the Hallmark card’s words. “I’m sorry.”

He practically shoved a bouquet of flowers into your hands when he nearly tripped over his shoes trying to hand it to you. Your bewildered expression must have frightened him even further, since he was already reaching into his bag to pull out a box of chocolate. Another small box fell out in the process as he fumbled to give you the heart-shaped chocolate box. In utter panic, he brought himself to his knees to pick it up, but he stayed on his knees to give it to you while you were trying to balance the things he had already given you.

“Wait-Wait, Steven, honey, are you trying to propose?” you asked calmly as you tried to mask your panic.

“W-What?” he looked up at you from where he was on his knees with his once combed hair now disheveled. “No-no!”

You nodded.

“Do you want me to?” he asked.

“Jesus, no,” you giggled.

“It’s just a pin of a scarab,” he said as he opened the box. “for your tote bag,” he whispered the last part as he placed the box in your hand.

“I can’t accept all this.”

“But I haven’t even given you the peaches, yet.”

“Steven,” you tried to hold back your laughter while you placed the gifts on your kitchen counter as he waited at the door with bated breath. You returned to him and decided to cut him some slack instead of refusing his gifts. “Thank you. I—”

He looked at the palm of his hand, at the poorly scribbled checklist he had made just in case he forgot something.

“Have dinner with me, please,” he asked. “It’s at my place. New Gus will be there too. Nothing too serious—unless you want it to be.”

You took his hand and stroked them as you tried to calm him down from what he no doubt had rehearsed many times over. “Give me a few minutes to get dressed, since you’re looking so dapper.”

“I hope this all didn’t cost too much,” you spoke as you looked at the giant stuffed crocodile in the corner. Steven was more focused on how your lips moved with red lipstick painted over them that he hadn’t heard a word that came out of your mouth. “Steven?”

“Yeah?” he was still frazzled.

“Please, don’t tell me that Donna took the stuffed animal out of your paycheck.”

“I won’t,” he nodded.

“Steven!”

“This is our apology to you.”

“Our?”

“I’m hoping Marc is going to apologize, too. Eventually…” he looked off into space briefly. “Honestly, whenever. I’m still kind of lost with how this works.”

“Have you fed New Gus?” He didn’t even notice how swiftly you changed the conversation.

“Oh, no.”

“Poor thing is watching us eat while you haven’t fed him,” you began walking to the tank to retrieve the fish food but when it wasn’t in sight, you were already heading toward Steven’s bed to get it off of his nightstand. By the time you returned, there was a silence that filled the room that made you uncomfortable as you fed Gus. You could feel a firm set of eyes that let you know that Marc was staring.

“Hey, Marc.” You tried to keep your voice level.

“Hey.”

You turned to see him eyeing the takeout food that you had spent twenty minutes assuring Steven was delicious.

“He told me you wanted to say something.” Even as you returned to your seat to face him, he still hadn’t said a word, and you knew he wouldn’t if you didn’t speak up.

“Yeah,” he was struck by your scent since your perfume was scrambling his thoughts until he went completely silent for much too long.

“Look, if it’s gonna kill you, it’s fine. You don’t have to be here. I’m sure Steven can keep me entertained for the rest of the night.” You couldn’t even stand to look at him, so you were already heading back to New Gus—you really needed to pick a better name for him. Steven and Marc’s hands were the same, yet when he took you by your wrist, he felt colder.

“Entertain?” he whispered with a sickly smirk.

“That’s not what I meant—Look if you’re setting out to make me the bad guy—”

“You’re making it really easy to.”

“You’re the one being difficult. All I’ve ever been is kind to you.” He was pushing you over the precipice.

"I don’t need your pity.”

Your weeks of frustration and denying he was likely keeping Steven away from the dinners you planned were pouring over the fire and causing billowing smoke. “Why don’t you fucking trust me like Steven does?”

“I just can’t seem to get why you accepted his advances so eagerly.” He hadn’t gotten as loud as you were, but he was so, so close.

“For starters,” you tore his grip from your wrist. “He’s much nicer.”

“I can be nice,” he said as he got closer. He didn’t sound sincere, but rather like he was being challenged. “I-I can be nicer… funnier, better.”

“Marc, what are you going on about?” your eyes feverishly danced over his face in confusion. “Can we just go back to how it was before?”

“Like when we were just neighbors and Steven was following you like some lap dog,” he hissed so strongly you felt the wind on your nose.

“No, when I’d drop off first aid supplies and pretended not to see the photos you have of me on your mirror,” you spat.

You should have seen it coming when he had gotten so close with his towering stance. But when Marc kissed you, it sent you walking back to catch your balance, and you were stunned. It was enough to have you pull back to have a look at him to see if it was actually Steven. Yet he wasn’t. You could tell by the look in his eyes and by the way he went in for another kiss. His lips took over yours as you still were trying to catch your bearings and remedy your confusion. His teeth eventually moved from your mouth to your neck as he held your head about by his jaw.

Marc could hear the shake in your breaths as you gripped the sleeves of his suit and bunched the cotton fabric into your fist. His sloppy kisses littered your neck and chest like acid rain and made you wonder how you had already made it to the kitchen counter. He went from holding your face by its jaw to running his hands along your arms, as he was already trying to venture to where your skirt and thighs met.

He went back to kissing your red lips and swallowing the whimpers that came from your mouth. He was only going deeper as you gripped the edge of the kitchen counter to keep you grounded and stop the spinning.

Calloused hands started climbing up your dress and toying with your underwear before you had to catch him by his wrist and practically plead with your eyes. You didn’t want to go further and just wanted to talk to him, but he must have taken the hesitation for something else because he was already jumping to his own conclusions.

Just as quickly as it all started, his body slowly became stiff until his kisses decrescendoed into nothing but a whisper when his lips called out your name.

“Steven?” you pulled away. You felt the change in his posture and how quickly his hands tore from your body.

“S-Sorry.” He was taken aback by the position he had you in and cleared his throat as he peeled his hands from your body and tucked it into his pockets.

You climbed down from where you were and fixed your dress while he desperately tried to ask what had happened.

“Nothing you have to worry about,” you lightly dismissed as you grabbed your things. “It went fine. Thank you for the wonderful evening, but I’ve got to head in early since I’m taking Benny’s shift tomorrow.”

“Hey, don’t forget this.” He was practically sprinting to meet you at the door with the stuffed crocodile while you made sure the smile on your face was still there.

“Thank you. Goodnight.”

“Night.” he awkwardly drew closer to kiss your forehead before you left and slipped into your room down the hall.

Marc had you reeling the entire night until the sun swallowed the moon as you thought about the way your body quaked while he was devouring your neck and left wet hickeys in his wake. In another bed, Steven was toying with the Rubik’s cube as he thought about how he was going to fix things once more. Marc had made it seem like the only option was to love one when you had always wanted to try to love both.

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