pairing: steven grant x fem!reader x marc spector x jake lockley; bucky barnes x fem!reader
summary: you think you've been too good of a girl. did all the extra credit, then got graded on a curve. you think it's time to teach some lessons. because, you made him your world. but did he hear? you can reclaim the land. and you miss him, but you miss sparkling.
word count: 4,861
warnings?: angst city™ bitch, referenced cheating, breaking up, implied smut, a lil fluff, pet name (love/mi amor/doll), not proofread
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Between the two of them, you never expected Steven to be the one to break your heart. No, not sweet Steven who stuttered his way through pick up lines. Not kind Steven who tripped over his feet as he rushed forward to open a door for you. Not soft Steven who was so unsure of how to act in a relationship but never failed to make you smile so hard your cheeks hurt, laugh so hard your belly ached. Marc, after all, was the one who would run when he was scared. Marc was the one who ran from his (now ex) wife when he thought Khonshu was going to make her his avatar. Marc was the one who was so cold to you at the start, so unsure of if you would treat sweet Steven right. And yet, Marc was not the one making you cry right now.
Steven had asked you out nearly a year ago. Your relationship had moved at a near snail's pace. You understood. He had never been in a real relationship before. You didn't want to rush him into anything he wasn't comfortable with. Between that and the sleep disorder where he would lose days at a time (that turned out to be DID), nothing in this relationship could ever be considered fast. Except, perhaps, how fast Steven was to rip your heart out and stomp on it.
"You...what?"
"I'm sorry, love. I really am."
It had been a month to the day since Steven had disappeared to Egypt. You had heard that Steven had been fired. Steven had loved what he did, even if he had aspirations for the tour guide position. But even as a gift shop worker, Steven was happy at the museum. He was content. When the news made its way to you as you took a break between tour groups, you found yourself taking the day off, rushing to Steven's flat to see if he was okay.
Another woman had been there. Layla, her name was. She could have been a model she was so stunning. Between her stunning curls and her piercing eyes, the way she seemed so sure of herself, you felt small. Insufficient. You hadn't felt that way in a long time. (You didn't want to feel that way ever again.) It turned out, Layla was Steven's—well, no, Marc's—wife. She and Marc had been looking for a scarab. A lot of the words went in one ear and out the other. You couldn't stop focusing on wife, the word swirling in your head, banging against the walls of your skull, telling you that Steven wasn't yours. Perhaps he never had been. That night, Layla and Steven disappeared.
When he came back, telling you about Marc and Khonshu and Ammit and a man named Harrow and how he had gone to the Duat and how Layla became Taweret's avatar and how the two of them defeated Ammit and Harrow, you did your best to be supportive. To take it one step of the time. You listened to his every story. You introduced yourself to Marc. You tried to ignore the sting every time Layla's name was brought. Layla was the past, Marc assured you. He had signed the divorce papers as soon as the two of them returned to London. But there was always something in the way he spoke, the way he chose his words oh so carefully, that told you he was hiding something. You wondered what happened between Layla and Steven in Egypt, but you feared the answer, so you never asked the question.
