[A/N: Hello! This one is a bit different than the chapters previous. This is a "yandere" inspired chapter, and I've never written anything like it before, so I hope it's accurate and to your liking. Also, this chapter switches quickly between (Y/N)'s POV and Steven/Marc's. Let me know if there are any areas that I can improve in! -K 🖤]
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[Being Steven's best friend has its perks, and falling in love with him was bound to happen. However, Steven behind closed doors, has become obsessed with his best friend, and Marc has become dangerously possessive.]
[Word Count: 2853]
[🌙This chapter contains swearing, violence, and sexual insinuations/references.🌙]
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"So hypothetically, you're saying that Alexander the Great could out-rap Leonidas if they ever battled it out?" I giggled, watched Steven from across the couch use his hands to explain his side of the discussion.
He chuckled and exclaimed, "Yes! Alexander the Great was a Macedonian and trained both physically and mentally. Leonidas was a Spartan, who was powerful only because of his military training. Alexander is definitely more intelligent and could certainly outwit Leonidas if needed!" He stated, chuckling as I held my stomach in laughter.
We had been conversing on his sofa for the past three hours, our remnants of the Chinese takeout still displayed on the coffee table. Our conversation had ranged from movies to books, even conspiracy theories, and now hypothetical rap battles between notable historical features.
"Steven! Have you watched 300? Leonidas could just kick Alexander out of the way!" I covered my mouth to conceal my overflowing laughter as I leaned back onto the cushions.
He was my best friend. I had known him for two years as I was a consistent patron at the museum that he faithfully worked at.
But I found myself returning to the museum more often, and it wasn't for the tours or the cheap memorabilia. Just thinking about Steven had my heart racing and butterflies furiously wreaking havoc in my stomach.
Sometimes my mind would race at night, filling my thoughts with provocative suggestions and embarrassing desires for him.
But I would never tell him.
"I haven't watched it. We'll have to make an evening of it soon." He suggested, his brown eyes observing me as my chuckles as the imaginative situation died down.
We silently beheld each other in his dimly lit apartment, the only sound being the constant humming of Gus' fish tank. Steven was facing me as he rested his back against the armrest, and I was mimicking his relaxed position.
A blush crept up my face as he swiftly licked his bottom lip. "Y-yeah! Um..." I cleared my throat, attempting to focus on the conversation at hand and not my rampaging thoughts. "When do you want to hang out again?"
He squinted his eyes and pondered for a moment. "I have to run some errands in the afternoon tomorrow, but I'm free in the evening, yeah." He suggested, internally eager and anticipating that he would be able to share another night of long conversations and close proximity with me in his apartment.
I nodded with a excited smile and considered my plans for tomorrow evening, which would be Saturday night. "Oh, yes, that sounds-" My cheery acceptance faltered and my grin faded, remembering what I had previously accepted to do a few days beforehand. "I'm sorry, Steven. I can't tomorrow."
The hell? We always spend Saturday nights together. We need her to be here every night.
Steven ignored Marc's pissed interruption of his thoughts. "Not tomorrow? What's happening tomorrow?" He inquired, not wanted to display any hint of extreme concern or disappointment that he felt.
"I, uh, have plans. Yeah. Plans for tomorrow night." I swallowed hard, regretting the panicked decision that I had made. My eyes submissively trailed down to my hands that I was currently picking at my fingers with, anxiously considering the events of the following night.
Steven's jaw clenched in frustration at hearing that he wasn't a first priority.
What the fuck is more important than our time together? Ask her, Steven!
Marc was agitated, obviously ignited by her decline of getting together again. He had been wrathful for weeks already. Of course, (Y/N) and Steven had grown close in the two years they had known each other, which meant that Steven had inevitably revealed the existence of Marc to her.
And she accepted him.
However, to Marc, it appeared that she preferred to want to spend more time with Steven. He hated how she laughed over his corny jokes, how she fawned over his awkward demeanor, how she purposely would "accidentally" brush her soft hand against Steven's when they would routinely stroll together in their favorite park.
While Steven fronted and enjoyed reveling in her presence, Marc had become obsessed with the idea of one day claiming her for himself.
In the past two years, she was approached by several different suitors who desired to be with her, and even those who annoyed her and simply bothered her with unwanted attention. But Marc always proved to himself and Steven that those suitors and interested men weren't good enough for her.
And none of their bodies would ever be found.
"What are you doing tomorrow?" Steven questioned, feeling a slight pang of jealousy and bile rise in his chest as he considered the thought that she found something, or someone else, to be more entertaining than him, or just better in general.
I sighed, running a hand through my hair and leaning against the cushions. "I...have a date." I timidly and hesitantly revealed, noticing the shadowed expression on Steven's face and the sudden rigidity of his body.
The fuck did she just say?
Steven was overcome by a sudden rush of permeating jealousy and hatred. He felt possessive over (Y/N) and never expected her to choose someone else over him. "A-a date?" He repeated in disbelief and frustration.
With who?!
I had an uncontrollable and uncontainable crush on Steven. Hell, I was positive I loved him. His awkward social cues, his quirky personality, his gentle and kind soul all drew me closer to him and is what kept pulling me towards the museum.
But he didn't like me back in the least.
I was simply his best friend.
And that was good enough for me. I would secretly love him unconditionally and would always be there for him, never to reveal my devoted commitment to him.
I don't remember why I accepted J.B.'s offer in the first place. He had been pestering me for weeks every time I had come to see Steven at work. He was pushy and annoying, and in a frustrating moment of realization that Steven would never love me back, I regretfully accepted.
"(Y/N)." Steven's serious tone caught my attention and I immediately glanced up from my hands. I nodded, referring back to his question and confirming what I had declared. "With who?" His once light tone had darkened and he leaned closer to me.
I shook my head in defeat. "I-I don't even want to go, y'know? I just want to spend time with you, Steven. And I guess I just wasn't even thinking and J.B had been annoying me for weeks and pestering me about a single date, I just said yes without even thinking and-"
Steven suddenly stood up, removing himself from the sofa and running his hands through his hair, causing his curls to be erratically frizzed. "J.B.?! As in otter videos J.B.?!" He was behaving strangely and I sat up as I noticed him walk towards his desk.
"I don't like him in the least, Steven..." I admitted, now standing. "I have never considered him to be anything more than a familiar face."
Steven gripped the edges of his desk, and upon noticing the drawings that he had secretly created of his one obsession, he hurriedly stacked them and shoved them under a book.
Never did he want her to see the obscene pictures that he had drawn of her, mostly in a capture of her sweet and smiling face, or the occasional erotic and filthy drawing of her in compromising positions that he desired to see her in around the apartment.
"Steven, I..." My breath was trembling as I approached him from behind, watching his hunched form appear to shake with a silent sob. My hands reached for him, running over his shoulder blades, down his back, until I melded myself against him from behind, my hand now resting on his tense abdomen. "I've only ever wanted you."
Steven was paralyzed and couldn't comprehend what he had just heard her admit.
...What?
Marc was unmoving in Steven's reflection in the hanging mirror that resides above his desk. He could see her arms wrapped around his middle, but she wasn't hugging him.
She was hugging Steven.
She has always wanted Steven.
"You wanted me?" Steven finally asked after preparing the courage to do so. He turned in my embrace to face me, our eyes meeting and searching the other for further clarification.
"From the first day I met you, Steven." It was finally happening. The moment that I feared he would finally reveal to me the boundaries of our friendship and make me leave his apartment. "I don't come to the museum every day for the same, boring tour. I'm there to see you. It's always been you."
Before I could apologize for my outburst, Steven closed the distance and lowered his head to mine. He connected our lips, and I eagerly accepted, running my hand to his hair and tangling my fingers in his curls.
This wasn't the first time I had imagined pulling his hair, but in my daydreams, it was usually for a more promiscuous reason.
He groaned in my mouth and gently ran his tongue over my lips, requesting entrance. I hungrily conceded, allowing his tongue to enter. I moaned against him as he explored my mouth and moved his hands to softly dig his fingertips into my hips.
"Steven..." I breathed out, breaking out kiss to finally breathe. His nose trailed down my cheek, his lips leaving wet stamps across my jaw and to my neck. He began to gently suck on my skin and I closed my eyes.
Just as quickly as it began, our interaction halted.
Steven's lips stopped moving against mine, and his hands tightened their hold, roughly gripping me. His once frantic breathing had decreased, but he was inhaling deeply and slowly.
"You've always wanted Steven." He darkly stated tantalizingly slow against my neck. His breath was dangerously huffing against my skin and I swallowed roughly and clenched my thighs together in unexpected desire for them both.
Marc.
I had met with him on several occasions, but I found him to be rude, arrogant, and sometimes, a flat out asshole. He was always hiding and brooding, waiting in the recesses of Steven's mind, and according to Steven, torturing him with dark thoughts.
"H-Hello, Marc." I greeted, feeling quite intimidating by his dominant demeanor. He stood up, fully adhering to his height that towered over me. My eyebrows lifted slightly as I noticed the feral expression on his face.
"It's always been Steven." He sarcastically chuckled, and dropped his hands from me in anger. I took a step back and brought my hands to my chest as I watched him turn to face the desk that Steven had walked them to. "Steven...is utterly fascinated by you, (Y/N). Much like I am." He sighed deeply and lifted a large book, removing concealed papers from underneath.
He violently threw the book into the kitchen area, slamming against the cabinet, and causing it to knock cups onto the hardwood flooring. "Marc?" I whispered, watching him turn around with a predatory smirk.
"He's obsessed with you." Marc admired the page before him and tossed it onto the floor. My eyes followed it and was astonished to find a perfectly rendered portrait of myself smiling outside of the museum.
My heart warmed at the thought of Steven taking the time to effectively capture myself into a drawing.
More drawings slipped out of Marc's hands as he let them glide to the floor. More drawings of myself floated to the ground. Steven had drawn me reading a book, standing behind the gift shop counter, walking in the park, smiling at him from his sofa, and even posing with Gus.
I hadn't realized that I was brightly smiling from observing the fallen pictures.
Marc, please, please! Please don't show her!
"But I don't think you realize how obsessed he is. How obsessed we are." He growled before his eyes flickered to mine and allowed the next picture to slip to the ground right before my feet.
My smile faltered slightly as I studied this particular picture that wasn't like the others.
Instead of smiling next to a familiar place that Steven and I visited, my eyes frantically searched the picture that depicted me bound by intricately tied and displayed ropes that were holding me captive in a compromising position on Steven's bed.
Another picture fell next to me, and my mouth dropped.
In the picture, I was completely naked, my hands covering my breasts as my head was thrown back in an expression of ecstasy. Ghostly hands were drawn gripping my hips and pulling me down harshly onto who I could only imagine to be Steven beneath me.
"He has an eye for perfection." Marc grumbled, taking steps closer towards me as I was caught off guard by these new drawings. He had placed the stack of countless pictures onto the sofa we once sat on, holding a final one in his hands.
My eyes hurriedly flickered from the ground to his approaching figure. He was walking like a victorious predator that had finally cornered its long awaited prey.
His hands offered the last picture to me, flipped over, and preventing me from seeing it. "You are all we want. All we desire." His breathing was now heavier. "All we think about and dream of." His eyes studied my body and how intensely my chest was raising in rapid breaths. "You are my obsession." His voice was low and threatening.
With trembling hands, I accepted the paper, to which he finally released from his hands. I turned it over and silently gasped.
This wasn't Steven's drawing.
Marc had drawn this one, and he was equally as skilled as Steven. My hand immediately covered my mouth as I observed two familiar figures on the paper.
I was drawn on my back in submission, with eyes closed tightly and my mouth opened in a partial scream of pleasure. Marc was pinning my hands above my head as he laid between my thighs, ruthlessly ravaging my body as he brutally slammed into me. His free hand had gripped my thigh, allowing him more room as he wrapped it around his rippling and sweating back.
His muscular back was bleeding from what appeared to be gouging marks from my nails, and as I looked closer, his back was smeared in a deep red substance. My eyes went to my struggling hands that were pinned above my head.
On my fingertips was more smeared blood.
Marc suddenly gripped the paper and he began to walk me against the bed that I had been drawn repeatedly to be sprawled on for Steven and Marc.
"You will never understand what I've done to have you. And you might never will." His hand reached to my exposed throat and I felt my knees wobble, making me unstable against him. My breath was labored as he leaned in close to me. "Does that scare you, (Y/N)?"
After seeing their violent reactions, the obsessional pictures, the pornographic poses and sexual positions that I had been drawn in, I would have probably left the apartment in a frantic hurry if it was anyone else.
"No." I admitted with a shudder. "I'm not scared." I rubbed my thighs together, finding myself more aroused than frightened. Knowing that both Steven and Marc desired me only confirmed my prolonged feelings and stirred up new, more dangerous, and even more provocative ones.
Marc hummed and tightened his grip, while using his other hand to brush my hair behind my ear. "And what should I do with you now?" He inquired, hearing Steven's pleas to strip me bare before him.
Without thinking, I responded, "Bring those drawings to life." I watched as a sincere and erotic smirk appeared on his face. "Please..." I begged, wanting to be as pleasured and ruined as in the pictures.
"Atta girl. But first, I need to teach you a fucking lesson about agreeing to go on dates with other men." Marc possessively growled, forcing me backwards onto the bed and crawling towards my panting form.
After we thoroughly punish her, we need to pay J.B. a visit, Marc. No one gets away with forcing our girl on a date. And no one ever will ever get close enough again.