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: ✨ ooo "could you pretend, just for a second, that i mean something to you?" with marc - @annab-nana
pairing: marc spector x fem!reader
word count: 739
warnings?: angst, not proofread
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"What the fuck is wrong with you?!" you hissed when you and Marc walked back into Steven's flat. "What was that stunt back there!?"
Marc only rolled his eyes, shrugging off his jacket and tossing it on the couch. You scoffed, snatching the jacket back, taking it over to the closet to it could be hung up. When you turned back around, Marc had grabbed a beer, kicked off his shoes, and was watching baseball on the TV as he laid back on the hotel's bed.
You marched over to him, standing in front of the TV, your hands on your hips. "Nuh uh, buddy. You don't get to pull this shit. We're talking about what the fuck happened back there."
"Nothing happened," Marc muttered. "Now can you just move?"
"No, I can't. Because something did happen back there, and you need to talk me through what went through your fucking head because I'm really struggling to see your logic."
You had gone out to the bar. It was supposed to be some stress relief from the mission you and Marc were on. Because, god, it had been fucking difficult. Not only was it damn near impossible to tail these people, but Marc had had an attitude the entire fucking time. Anything you did was wrong—even if it was something that Marc had previously told you he appreciated. So, when Marc said that the two of you should just lie low and the let the people slowly slink their way out, you decided to take the opportunity to get a drink. And it was going so well! That is, until Marc showed up.
"You wanted to lie low," you said. "This was your fucking idea. So, I go to the bar. By myself—because you didn't want to be fucking seen with me! And, just when I'm having a bit of fun after dealing with your bullshit all week, you decide to swing by and ruin fucking everything!" You threw your hands in the air, completely exasperated. "You say we're fucking partners, but all you do is treat me like shit nowadays. Seriously, could you pretend, just for a second, that I mean something to you?!"
Marc only looked away, his jaw clenched.
"Oh, are you gonna be quiet now? Because you sure had a lot to say back at the bar! Only just barely stopped short of calling me a whore, huh?"
"I don't think you're a whore."
"What a gentleman. You'll only just barely call me one, but at least you don't think I'm one. I don't even see why it fucking matters to you. You've never, not once, acted like you cared about me personally. But the second I go flirt with the pretty bartender, you kick up a big fuss? That's fucking bullshit, Marc, and you know it."
Marc glanced at you, before looking away quickly. "It matters to me because I do care about you. A lot more than I should."
You rolled your eyes. "Oh, are you to go down the path that I think you're about to go down? Because, dammit, Marc, you can't do that. I had made it clear that I liked you months ago, and you all but laughed in my face. You don't get to say this now. You don't get to ruin things for me and act like a fucking bitch just because you realized you made a mistake. That's not fair to me, Marc."
Clearing your throat, you finally stepped away from the TV, going over to the closet to start gathering your belongings. Marc watched you, eventually asking, "Where are you going?"
"I'm getting another room. I can't stand to be around you right now," you said, shoving your clothes into a bag. "Then, when this is over, we're going our separate ways. Okay? Because after this, I know you don't respect me or my feelings or, or anything about me. And I can't work with someone like that any longer. Not anymore."
"But I don't want you to go."
"Too fucking bad. I'm leaving."
And, as you walked out the door, Marc was left conflicted as to whether he should run after you or just let you cool off. As he stared at the door, he slowly turned his attention back to his beer, taking a long drink, before deciding that he should just leave you be.
