Chapter 2 - Dinner and Sangria (No smut this chapter) Steven Grant x Reader, Marc Spector x Reader, Jake Lockley x Reader
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The next morning you woke up with the sun hitting your face. When you opened your eyes and saw what time it was, you bolted upright in bed. You groaned, feeling sore all over.
"Fuck! I didn't get to clean last night. Shit. Fuck!" You complained as you rolled out of bed and tried to locate your clothes. Every muscle was sore. You felt and saw bruises everywhere from Jake.
You were definitely hoping to do that again with him.
Once you were dressed, you crept out to check the damages done from last night's little play session with the groundskeeper. To your surprise, everything was cleaned up and in perfect order. Jake was true to his word, and he had fixed the bookshelf and all the fallen books. He had cleaned the kitchen spotless, and there was no trace of the debauchery that had transpired the previous night.
You were so relieved, smiling as you silently thanked Jake wherever he might be.
You decided that you would use this quiet time to go read in the library, with your wireless earbuds in to listen to some music. You had been sitting there until lunch, when your stomach growled quite loudly. You groaned, not liking the feeling, because that meant you had to get up and use your tired feeling muscles.
This time you went into Steven's kitchen with the intention of making a salad. It was a quiet thing to prepare, so you knew you wouldn't be disturbing anyone. You quietly made your way into the kitchen, humming a tune as you walked. You were so engrossed in a particular song, that you didn't notice there was someone in the kitchen, sitting at the dining table.
The person watched you with acute fascination as you went straight to the fridge and started to bring a bunch of things out to make yourself a salad. When you looked up, you paused, seeing what appeared to be Jake, in a very nice black collared shirt, well tailored slacks, with his hair neatly combed and parted in a way you hadn't ever seen on Jake. Jake always had unruly and messy hair, and that's why he always wore his flat cap. You popped your headphones out and slipped them into your pocket.
"Oh! Good morning! You must be the cleaning lady, yeah? Name's Steven. Steven Grant." He cheerfully said as he thrust his hand out to you. You stared at him, then looked at his hand.
What the fuck was Jake doing?
"Are you alright, love? I'm sorry we haven't met until now. I've been quite busy writing up an article for the museum. You enjoying it here, yeah? Maybe?" He went on, trying to be overly friendly. His smile was warm and inviting, almost innocent. You dumbly held out your hand, with him taking it, then he placed his other hand over yours. He gave it a good shake, then withdrew his hands to rub the back of his neck as he chuckled nervously.
This was an entirely different person.
But he looked exactly like Jake.
Well shit. Jake said that your boss had Dissociative Identity Disorder...
