POKER: 2ND HAND
Steven Grant x Reader x Marc Spector
word count: 3.4K
genre: angst, dark-ish themes, fluff, suggestive themes
warnings: angst, blood and gore, obsessive behavior, steven and marc being steven and marc
summary: You and Steve come to understand some of Marc’s job that he doesn’t tell you about.
author’s note: I went rushing to work after writing this so it could be on time. I don’t know if I want to make a second part but who knows. I like how this kind of comes back to a circle.
Steven had no inclination of where he was, and it had been a while since he last woke up somewhere he didn’t understand. Watching your blood leak into the cracks of the pavement while you tried your best to soothe him wasn’t a sight that he’d ever be able to forget. No matter how much pressure he put, the wound wouldn’t stop gushing. It was criminal. Civilians even looked on in astonishment, as if they were frozen in time while Steven’s bandaged hands were tainted. Yet, it took only a blink for him to see the ceiling of his room. The feeling of losing days was all too familiar, but now it felt different.
It was likely because you were left to die while he made it home just fine. This had Steven shooting out of his bed. He no longer had an ankle restraint, which sent him plummeting face first onto the floor of his bedroom. It was a sobering feeling. He would have stayed on the floor to let the pain subside, but he didn’t have the time that day. The last time he saw you, you were drowning in your own fluid.
Now he was barefoot, shouting your name in his home with cracks in his cadence. He opened the door to rush down the hall. It didn’t take any time for him to reach your front door, fiercely knocking and shouting your name like a broken music box. His rapping only increased in its intensity as seconds passed.
