It only takes six stops on the bus for Jake to become completely smitten with you (and then a seventh for him to notice).
pairing: jake lockley x gn!reader
warnings/tags: mild language, brief/vague description of mild harassment on public transportation (not main pairing), meet-cute, forced proximity, fluff, mutual pining, strangers to lovers (sort of), jake has resting bitch face, soft!jake lockley supremacy, no beta we die like harrow, mdni/18+ blanket rule!!!
wc: 3.5k
a/n: so i never thought i'd write a jake fic before finishing the follow up to indulgences, but one comment from @redahlia-writes about jake on public transport and this just sort of... spat itself out lol. i am a firm advocate for soft!jake, so please enjoy this silly little bus meet-cute-ish.
p.s. i've tried my hand at gn!reader, i apologize if it slips into any gendered language or depictions at any point!
The first time Jake sees you, it's because you have nowhere else to sit.
It's morning. He's been up all night. He's seen a lot of things, done a lot of things. He's exhausted. He's surly because he doesn't have his car, and he has to sit on this stupid, crammed, too-hot bus. He's ready to go home.
He can feel you eyeing the seat next to him warily, eyeing him warily— after all, the entire bus is packed like a can of sardines, so everyone else has left that seat open for a reason, and Jake thinks it may have something to do with his face. From what he understands, his usual expression isn't the most approachable or welcoming; which, honestly, has been pretty helpful. People usually don't bother him that way. And that's the way he likes it.
You, however, don't really get much of a choice in the matter. There isn't even a bit of room anywhere else— he's watched you check, vigorously— so you resign yourself to it, coming towards him somehow hesitant yet hurried at the same time, trying to get a seat before the bus starts moving again and you get hurled into the sea of seats and people.
He watches you sit down at the very edge, putting as much space as you possibly can between the two of you without completely falling off your seat. You glance up at him nervously, meeting his eyes, and when he watches you practically freeze under his gaze, he finds himself feeling three things at once.
First, part of him wants to laugh. He can't help but find it funny that the same body that has people jostling it around, practically pushing it over when Steven inhabits it, receives this kind of reaction when he fronts, simply by the way he holds himself, moves his muscles.
Second, he feels a mix of relief and satisfaction. He's tired, and he hadn't counted on having to sit next to anyone. At the very least, he knows he won't have to worry about you planning on bothering him. He's not sure he'd have the energy, or the patience to deal with that.
Lastly, he feels... guilt. You've done nothing to him. You're just there for a ride from one place to another, same as him. And you look just as thrilled at the prospect of sitting next to him as he is. He thinks of what it'd be like if you caught the bus any other day, with Steven or Marc on it, instead. Steven would probably be thrilled to sit next to you, as opposed to someone else who might stick their bony elbows in his sides or pile their belongings on his side of the seat— or, he'd just be sleeping. Marc would keep to himself, but he'd still be polite and lean towards the other side, give you some extra room. The very least Jake can do is try not to make you fear for your life for your entire morning commute.
So, he smiles at you. At least, he tries to.
He has a feeling it comes out awkward and uncomfortable— He knows how to do a sinister grin, or something smug and charming (that one usually works well on the ladies), but he doesn't feel like either of those would help him much, here. He's not used to politely smiling at strangers on public transport. But, he tries, for you.
Whatever his face does, it works, somewhat. You return the smile, very quick, still nervous, and equally awkward, before you're hurriedly looking away, but you've scooted up the seat so you're not about fly off if the bus makes a sharp corner. And he watches some of the tension leave your body as you relax against the backrest a little.
He turns away, leans his head back, and closes his eyes. There. He's done his dues, and is free to ignore you for the rest of the trip, guiltlessly.
And he does, for a good several minutes, until the bus turns a sharp corner and lurches you right into him, despite the generous amount of space in between the both of you.
There's a chorus of groans and grumbling from the other passengers, who, by all accounts, fared a lot worse. But you had the singular luck of smashing into him, who nobody else dared sit next to; whose eyes you could barely meet, just a few minutes ago. And now, you're scrambling off of him, looking up at him, absolutely mortified.
"I'm so sorry!" You blurt, in spite of your total lack of control over the bus's movements, and pause for a moment before repeating yourself about a thousand times over. The tension is back with a vengeance; Your mouth is a fountain of apologies and your body is a stiff, rigid line bracing itself for his response, though it's almost like you're determined not to let him, as he can barely get a word in.
Any irritation he'd felt wasn't directed at you to begin with— though, he had several choice words for the driver— but even if it had been, he's sure it would have all melted away the moment he saw the look on your face, heard your profuse apologies. Something strange tugs at his chest, and he's suddenly struck with the notion that, he doesn't actually want you to be afraid of him.
"—Hey, it's alright." It takes a bit before you finally let him butt in to speak; and when he does, you're still looking at him nervously. "Not your fault, cariño."
The pet name slips out on accident; just some subconscious effort to get that look off your face and you to stop apologizing before you turn blue. But he's not anticipating the way your eyes go a little wide, and your shoulders fall slightly, and your whole body seems to draw downwards, like you've melted a little bit.
You avert your eyes again— shy, this time. Not scared.
Oh.
He's usually a bit smoother with this kind of thing; and it's usually intentional. Still, he feels an odd warmth thinking about the fact that, in spite of the very rocky beginning, he managed to fluster you without even trying; and the way that, though you won't look at him, you still sit a little closer than before.
You meet his eyes once more during your trip— well, he catches you staring. You look back at your lap again just as quickly, and nervously start to pick at a thread on your pants. But your back is relaxed, not rigid.
Your stop comes not long after. You get back up to leave, and share another quick, awkward smile, before you're back down the aisle and out the door. Jake sits alone, again, for the rest of the way home— and finds he didn't really mind sharing the bench. Not with you.
***
The second time Jake sees you, you're sitting elsewhere.
The bus is less full, this time. It'd be odd to come up and sit next to a stranger when there's a bunch of other seats available. But he can't deny there's a tiny twinge of disappointment in his chest.
You're a few rows ahead, you probably didn't even see him. Or so he reasons with himself; Because he'd like to think that if you had, you'd have given him another awkward smile before taking your seat. Maybe a seat a little closer to him, than where you're currently sitting.
The man that approaches you must not have gotten the memo, though, about sitting next to strangers when there's other available seats, because Jake watches him plop down on the one right next to you, and begin to chat you up. He can't hear the conversation, from here, but he doesn't need to— he can see the way your body goes rigid, the tense line of your neck, the way you're shuffling closer and closer to the window, further and further away from him.
As soon as the bus stops moving, he doesn't need to think twice before he's getting up, and making his way over to your bench, with his best "I will kill you" face.
You see him first— and draw the man's attention to Jake and his murderous expression. Something that could only be called sheer terror fills his face, and he seems frozen in place. For a moment, Jake worries you might react the same way, thinking you're out of the frying pan and into the fire; that you'll look at him with that terrified look like you did when you first approached his seat that other day.
But you're looking up at Jake like he's your very own guardian angel, with those same eyes you gave him when he called you cariño last time. Nobody's ever looked at him like that before, and he thinks he could get used to it.
Jake could yank the man out of his seat, curse him out in Spanish. Lord knows, he wants to. But he doesn't want to make an unnecessary scene or invoke the ire of the bus driver, not in front of you. He settles for giving the man a very pointed look and a gesture at his seat, which seems to shake him out of his paralysis. The man glances between him, and you, and back to him, and promptly takes off, practically running.
Jake takes his place beside you, then, trying to keep a respectful distance, and to look a little less homicidal. He still sits close; but you don't seem to mind.
You're still looking at him like that, and he thinks he might get shy and start blushing, if you keep it up.
"Thank you," you say, sincerely. You offer your name, and your hand.
He takes both. Your skin is soft against his, and gives him that peculiar warm feeling in his chest again, as he holds your hand carefully in his own, shaking it once. "Jake," he murmurs. "Es de nada."
The smile you give him when you let go is warm this time, not awkward. He's pretty sure the one he returns is still a little more of the latter, but it's okay. You don't mind that, either.
You continue on in silence for a few more minutes, and he steals glances at you; afraid you might catch him staring this time. You do, once— but you just give him another smile and look away again.
He thinks of nothing more for the rest of the trip, rolling the syllables of your name over his mind, the way you looked up at him burned onto the back of his eyelids.
***
The third time Jake sees you, it's late, and the bus is empty, save for the both of you. You come and sit right next to him, this time without hesitation.
This time, you look exhausted— practically asleep on your feet. But you perk up little— a lot— when you see him, and you smile, and even greet him properly. It makes the warm feeling flare up in his chest once more.
"Hi," you say softly, plopping down beside him. You don't bother to keep a 'respectful' distance.
"Hi," he says back.
A pause. "It's sure packed in here."
This is... new. You're making conversation. He supposes, on an empty bus, you wouldn't have picked the seat right next to him just to sit in silence the whole way. Once his brain catches up to your joke, he gives an amused little exhale. "Yeah, it sure is."
Another pause. He supposes maybe he should try to make some conversation, too. "What are you out so late for?"
Your eyes roll a little. "Work party, thing." You don't seem to be too torn up about leaving. "Just glad it's over." The warmth comes back to your face, your eyes, when you look at him again. "You?"
Ah, shit.
He clears his throat a little. "Work stuff, too. Not a party, though." He sees your face shift to intrigue, alarm bells go off in his head, and he does his best to steer the conversation elsewhere. "What do you do?"
"I'm a librarian," you tell him. It suits you, he thinks. He can picture you putting books away on shelves, giving people recommendations, scanning them out for them. It's a sweet image. He wonders where you work; could Steven have seen you, or even met you at some point, and it just slipped Jake's notice? Something twinges inside him at the thought. "How about you?"
He should have known that question was coming; he set himself right up for it. What to tell you? "...Personal assistant," he settles on. "Sort of. A lot of odd jobs for this old rich guy." He doesn't look around, but he's willing to bet that if he did, he'd see the god somewhere giving him a death glare right now. He just prays you don't press much further.
"Oh." You nod, either satisfied with the answer, too tired to ask any further, or wholly uninterested. Whatever the case, he heaves a mental sigh of relief. "A businessman," you add after a moment, with a yawn that you cover with your fist.
He chuckles a little bit, to himself. "You could say that."
"Well, you've got the face for it," you say. He blinks blankly at you for several moments.
"...'Cause you... look like you mean business..." You elaborate hesitantly, and begin to snicker.
He doesn't quite understand your sleep-addled humor so much as he likes the sound of your laugh. And, he supposes it's a relief that you think of his lethal expression as something funny as opposed to something to be feared. And, maybe it's just so ridiculous it's a little bit funny. Whatever way, he can't help but laugh with you.
It takes him a little to notice that your laugh's died out, and you've fallen silent. He glances back at you to see you watching him with those wide eyes again, soft smile on your face. Your eyes fall to your lap quickly when you realize you've been caught, but the smile remains. You give another small laugh, like you're trying to brush off the moment. "Thought you wanted to bite my head off, that first day. You looked like you did," you say.
That makes his face fall a bit, and the warm feeling in his chest seems to crumple a little, in spite of the lighthearted way you said it. "I'm sorry," he says, soberly. "It was a..."
"Rough day?" You fill in for him.
He nods. "Yeah."
You smile generously. "It's okay. We all have those. All's well that ends well." You say the last bit with another glint of humor, an inside joke you're both in on. Your mouth falls open in a yawn once more.
"You're tired," he says. The observation isn't groundbreaking so much as his concern is; especially to him.
You wave it off. "Just a long day."
Well, you definitely handle those better than he does. "I shouldn't keep you up," he protests, still, like he's the only thing standing between you and getting some rest; like you weren't the one who came and sat down next to him and started the conversation, to begin with.
"You aren't," you insist, rubbing at your tired eyes, pulling slightly at your face. "Besides, I need to stay up. Can't fall asleep on the bus. I'll miss my stop."
The offer is out of his mouth before he's even really thought about it. "You can. I'll wake you."
You stop and look at him, eyes a little wider, tentative. "Really?"
Maybe it was a little forward of him. He wouldn't trust just any stranger enough to sleep beside them and rely on them to wake him up. He's not just a stranger to you anymore, though. (Or so, he hopes.) So, he nods in response.
You pause for a moment. "...Then I'll miss talking to you."
The weird, warm feeling in his chest is back again. You'd miss talking to him. This is the most— actually, the only time you've really spoken thus far. Truth be told, he does like talking to you, too. But Jake isn't good at small talk. It's difficult for him; Most of his life isn't meant for your ears. And you keep yawning, and your eyelids look so heavy. He can practically feel the exhaustion radiating off of you. It's a feeling he knows all too well himself.
"It's okay," he placates. "Just get some rest, cariño."
You gaze at him a moment longer, the warm, soft look he's come to expect when he calls you by that name. And then you're gently laying your head on his shoulder, and closing your eyes.
His mind blanks for a moment. You're warm, and soft. You smell like fresh laundry. And you're resting your head on his shoulder to sleep.
When his thoughts return to him, he feels a sudden surge of duty. He doesn't think he's ever had a greater honor bestowed upon him than your trust. Forget being the avatar of an ancient Egyptian deity, being your personal travel pillow and alarm clock is the most important thing he's ever done in his entire godforsaken life.
He can hear his inner cynic, or maybe it's just the moon god himself— calling this a distraction, reminding him that he has no room in his mind, or his life, for something like this. Someone like you. That, if you could see the blood on his hands, you'd run.
They're things he already knows well. But just for this moment, they don't matter. They're not true. How could they be, when your frame fits so perfectly lying against his? When it feels like this to have you close?
He keeps watch over you as your breathing evens, glares at the bus driver for all the harsh breaks and sharp turns, glares out the window at the potholes, though you never stir. (He'd drive his limo so carefully, if he had you sleeping in the passenger seat, he thinks.) He keeps an eye on the door, but nobody else ever boards. It's just the two of you, the whole way down.
It's over far too soon. He's already missing the weight of you leaning against him when he gently lays a hand on your knee, nudging you awake. "Your stop, cariño."
You open bleary eyes and pull away from him regretfully; and maybe it soothes him just a little that you look as loathe to leave him as he is to watch you go.
You stand and hold his gaze for a few more moments. "Thank you," you say drowsily, a sleepy smile on your face. The bus won't wait forever, though. You turn at last and make towards the front door.
You've only made it about halfway up the aisle, when you freeze, spin on your heel, and hurry back to stand in front of him.
He fixes you with a puzzled gaze, which you don't see; you're rifling through your bag frantically for... something. You pull out a folded, slightly scrunched piece of paper, and hold it out to him.
"I... wanted you to have it," you say, a little flustered.
It's your phone number, scrawled out under your name. You wrote it out in advance, to give to him. The warm feeling in his chest flares hot, and he knows in that instant, that even if he never calls it, he'll keep it forever, guard that piece of paper with his life, treasure it as long as he lives.
You're still looking at him like you have something more to say; like you're working up the courage for it. He waits with bated breath.
It's awkward and a little messy and rushed, and you have to rest your hands on the seat as you lean over to keep your balance, but you lean in, and press a kiss against his cheek.
Your lips are a lightning strike directly to his heart. The warm feeling cracks, bursts, spreads through his whole body.
You get shy again, after you pull back. You give him a little wave and then you're scurrying off, apologizing effusively to the disgruntled bus driver who's grumbling about how he doesn't have all night. If he grumbles from the moment you step off, all the way until Jake finally gets off at his own stop, he doesn't even notice. He's too preoccupied with the piece of paper he's tucked carefully in his pocket, sticking his hand in and checking to make sure it's still there every so often.
***
The bus is cramped, and full the next morning, again. Someone— a stranger— takes the seat beside him with little fuss, and doesn't look terrified. He's puzzled.
It's only when he catches his reflection in the window as he idly thumbs the piece of paper still tucked in his pocket, he realizes— he's smiling.
I’m not necessarily saying they SHOULD do this, I’m just saying I think it would be funny if in the middle of the second most stressful, emotional, heart-wrenching week of Obi Wan’s life, he also had to deal with suddenly running into Hondo again.
Bea my beloved, I saw that you're hoping for Layla requests and since I haven't read any fics for her yet I thought I could send something in! (With absolutely no pressure to write it 😘)
But what do think about Layla and asking each other out/first date? ❤
I saw this and immediately need to write this because Layla is just so amazing, I am so in love with her! Gosh I have so many thoughts (and thots) about this woman! Thank you my dear Cece for this💖💖💖💖💖💖 and yes there is definitely not enough Layla content!
First Date (Layla El Faouly x Reader)
You never thought a woman like Layla would ask you out! When you first saw her your first thought was "I have never seen a woman this beautiful!" She caught you staring at her and you immediately looked away embarressed, cheeks getting hot.
You definitely thought you had creeped her out. But she came over to you and started talking to you. And you found out, not only was she gorgeous but also really intelligent! She knew a lot about artefacts and history as you found out. And she made you laugh. Gosh her laugh was your new favourite sound in the world. When you had to part ways you were almost sad. But you two exchanged numbers.
You didn't hear from her for a few days. You were way too shy to text her first. What if she had just been polite? But then she wrote you. A simple hey but it made your heart skip a beat.
After a few more days of texting she asked you out. You were shocked to say the least. Asking her if she meant a real date.
/Yes a date silly!😝 What do you say are you up for it?/
You didn't even had to think texting back /YES!/ Which might have given away how excited you've been for it.
She didn't tell you were you were going but told you to dress fancy but not too fancy. Which confused you to be fair. Dressing up for a date can be something so stressful. And after changing 4 times you decided on an outfit that you thought was accentuating all your best features.
You met up with her. She looked nothing but stunning. She probably could wear a potato sack and still be fucking gorgeous. Of course you told her so, not saying the potato sack part out loud. Surely that would have been weird.
"So were are we going?" You were really curious. She smiled softly at you. "That's a surprise." She confidently took your hand in her. Oh. Her hands were just as stickt as yours. Was she nervous? Because of you? You couldn't help but grin a little at the fact.
On your way to your destination you talked about yourself a little more. She really was an interesting person. You could listen to her stories for hours.
Finally you reached your destination. It was an art exhibit about Van Gogh! You looked at her surprised. "You mentioned he was your favourite artist. And I saw that the exhibit is only open for one more week." You had mentioned it but it had been just a small comment about it and yet she noticed and even remembered! Can this woman get even more perfect?
You excitedly pulled her inside, she followed with a soft laugh.
The exhibit was truly something else! Sure there were his paintings, but there were also rooms where you could basically step into the paintings as well! You have never seen anything like it! Your favourite was Starry Nights. The room was a little darker. You were speechless.
Layla kept watching you the whole time in that room. She was just as enamoured with you. How excited you were to be here. It was adorable. Your kindness was something she rarely saw. And how easily you could get so enthusiastic about things. You started rambling about the painting but Layla didn't really hear a single thing, way to enamoured by you.
She didn't really think as she pulled you closer to her and softly pressed her lips to yours. You were stunned to say the least. But you melted right against her. Her lips definitely as soft as you'd dreamt about. Remembering you were in public the two of you seperated. A wide grin on both of your faces. A soft giggle leaving your lips. You gave her another peck. Then moving on with your date.
After you were finished with the exhibit(she bought you a shirt with the Starry Nights painting, aka your new favourite shirt, that she will, as the relationship progresses, wear as well), you two went to eat something. Not much was open at this hour but you found a small pizza place. It wasn't anything fancy but it was still perfect. You two laughing and talking while you ate your food. You wished this date would never end and you had a feeling neither did she.
But she saw that you were getting tired. So she brought you home. Giving you a sweet kiss in front of your door. You pulled her back into you at least two times to kiss her some more and not have her leave just yet. It made her giggle happily. But eventually she told you to get some rest. No beauty sleep because she claimed you are already beautiful enough.
Inside of your apartment you let out a squeal at how wonderful this night has been. You heard your phone bling indicating a message.
/I heard that😆😘 Have a wonderful sleep my star./ Your cheeks grew hot but you couldn't stop grinning. You couldn't wait to see her again.
Pairing: Layla El-Faouly x Fem!Reader
Summary: Layla finds love again after divorcing Marc.
Word Count: 1087
Warnings: Angst in the beginning, but there’s fluff in the end with reader and Layla.
Authors note: idk if they actually lived in Chicago, Illinois (which is where Marc grew up) together, but I’m pretending that’s where they lived before Steven ended up in London. Anyways, enjoy!
When he signed the papers, Layla felt her heart break. She had thought that once her and Marc (and Steven) had defeated Harrow, that there was still a chance they could be together again. However, despite saying he still loved her, Marc signed the papers and told her it was for the best. With tears in her eyes, she smacked him in the face with the divorce papers and ran out of Steven’s flat.
Did all those years mean nothing to him?
Did fighting alongside him to defeat Ammit not show him that she was capable of protecting herself, and therefore, didn’t need him to push her away? She wanted to go back there and ask him these questions, but she knew he wouldn’t answer them. So, she found herself a hotel room, stayed the night in London, and caught a flight back home the next day. Chicago, Illinois.
Upon returning to the home that had pictures of her and her husband everywhere, Layla fell to her knees and broke down. It took a while to deliver the divorce papers, it took even longer for her to get over Marc - and Steven, to.
A year later, after countless nights of crying and eating ice cream, she had gathered all the pieces of her heart and placed them back together. She was ready to start living again - actually, live. The first thing she did was sell the house. The second thing she did was move back to her real home - Cairo, Egypt. There her passion for archeology relit.
Layla meets you when you’re assigned to the same excavation site as her and it doesn’t take long for both of you to become good friends. Talking throughout the work day, going to the local bars together, and sending each other random snapchats. You were kind and funny, and would ramble about whatever came to mind. She didn’t mind, though. She would listen to everything you had to say with a smile.
Much like this afternoon. She had invited you over for lunch to celebrate the latest artifact that was found by you; a short sword and remains of what seemed to be a warrior.
“All I’m saying is I’m seventy-five percent sure that sword is cursed.” You joke. “This is how it all starts. You find a random weapon in the ground and next thing you know, you have to remember exactly where you got it, and bury it in that exact spot to stop whatever curses that have been placed upon you.”
“Good thing neither of us have the sword in our possession. If we’re lucky, it’ll go after Abasi.” Layla says, entertaining your idea. She’s sitting on her couch with you on her side, lunch already ate and dishes in the sink. Abasi is one of your fellow archeologist who also happens to be a real asshole.
You let out a laugh and Layla’s heart soars. In the last two months of getting to know each other and becoming friends, she found herself falling in love with you. You’re like the sun; bright yet fiery. She liked the fact that you’re heart is full of so much positivity, but at the same time, could shut up Abasi with one stare that could make even death tremble.
Layla doesn’t realize she’s staring at you until you say something. "Why do you do that?” You ask, curiously. She looks at you funny. “The way you stare at me… It’s like you’re looking at me as if I’m your…” You trail off, unsure of how to say it. From the instant you saw her, you had already been smitten. It’s cliche, but you dare say that you fell in love with her at first sight. Then again, who wouldn’t? She’s smart, beautiful, sassy, and overall, amazing.
“I’m your? I’m not going to understand what you mean unless you tell me.” Layla tells you, continuing to look at you with both love and lust; holding the urge to smash her lips against yours. She’s never been a shy girl. She isn’t the type to be timid. No, she has always been one to be confident and proud.
Blood starts to rush to your cheeks. “Like I’m your girlfriend.” You breathe out, hoping you didn’t just make things awkward between your friend and you.
Layla leans close to you until her lips are ghosting over your own. God, she looked so hot. “What if I want you to be?” Her voice is seductive and sends a shiver up your spin. She notices the way you try to hold back a groan and smirks again.
“I would say kiss me already, damn it.” And she does just that. She pulls you into a deep kiss, tongue pressing deep into your mouth and hands buried deep in your hair. You taste like maple syrup and pancakes - she had cooked breakfast for lunch. You’re the first one to break away and once you realize that at some point she had pulled you into her lap, your blush intensifies even more.
“We should date.” You say.
“I agree. Why don’t we go out tonight? We can stop by the restaurant you like so much.”
“And then, go star gazing? I hear there’s suppose to be a lunar eclipse tonight and I’m excited. I wonder if the moon god ever has anything to do with them. What’s his name again? Cashew?” You start to ramble, trying to remember what Khonshu’s name is and she chuckles when you call him big bird.
“I like you.” Layla whispers, cupping your cheeks and pulling you out of your thoughts.
She never thought she would love again. She was ready to date and possibly find someone that at least made her feel some type of way, but not love. With your bright smile and jokes that make her snort, she found herself remembering how it felt to love someone again and she couldn’t be more grateful to whoever lead you into her life.
“I like you, to.” You repeat, wrapping your hands around her and holding her close.
Neither of you talk more after that. Instead, she lays on the couch with you on top of her and both of you allow this moment to sink in. The sensation of being held by the other, knowing your feelings are the same, and feeling undyingly happy about it.
Layla closes her eyes and thinks to herself. I hope he has found the right person. I know I have.
Thieving Touch (Steven Grant x Reader, Marc Spector x Reader) [Part 4]
Gif Source: ewan-mcgregor
Marc made it to your apartment building before your taxi reached it, having heard the address you gave the driver. He waited in the shadows across the street, glancing up and down the avenue for your taxi to cruise around the corner.
This is a waste of our time.
“It isn’t a waste,” Marc growled. “I need to do this.”
Why not prevent the little worm from speaking to this woman?
pairing (s): marc spector x reader, steven grant x reader, jake lockley x reader
word count: 2.4k
warning (s): fluff, fluff, and more fluff
moon knight masterlist
.・゜゜・ ・゜゜・．
You found a new hobby almost every week, and at this point, it did not baffle your boyfriends anymore.
You could be so absorbed in embroidery, spending nights and days doing it, but then moving on to colouring books on the next week. Learning a new language was something that you do frequently, even if you would forget the languages since you already thinking to do other things like learning a music instrument.
Steven found it amusing, and he would always be interested in whatever you are doing, trying his best to support you. Marc would be skeptical every time you tried something new, knowing that you would drop it in a few days, but he never said anything since your enthusiasm was too adorable in his eyes. Jake simply did not care, you could do anything you wanted as long as you were happy.
Then origami sparked your interest and you wanted to try it. It reminded you of your childhood, when you would spend hours folding the papers, a proud smile would be on your face every time you got them right. No one was really interested in your origami when you showed them before, but now you got three of them, who would swoon over everything you do.
Steven was engulfed in his reading, and it was your favourite sight of him. He looked so cute with his reading glasses, the words on the pages he was reading seemed to drown out the world for a moment.
You smiled as you watched him, falling in love with him all over again. You got out of the bed, trying not to make any noise that could alert him. You grabbed your origami papers, grinning as you started to fold them, the thought of your boyfriend was swimming in your head.
You made one, then two. But then you decided to make another one, just because.
Steven jumped a bit when he felt an arm around his shoulder, but then he smiled when he saw you. Your heart bursted in flames as you saw him smiling at you. You swore his sweet smile could make you forget about everything else in the world. He chuckled softly when he noticed you were staring at him.
“Are you alright, love?”
He asked, and you nodded, kissing his forehead lovingly. A happy sigh escaped his lips at your gesture.
“I love you, Steven.”
His face flushed, flustered no matter how many times you said it to him.
“I love you too.”
Hearing his words of love, you almost forgot what you were hiding behind your back. With a nervous smile, you put your little gifts for him on the table, next to the book he was reading.
“I made these for you.”
Steven could not hold back a huge smile which was growing on his face when he saw the heart-shaped bookmarks you had made for him. The first bookmark was pink, and it was your colour so he did not really question it. He loved the pink heart-shaped bookmark. It was so cute, and it was so you.
But the other two were blue and yellow. When the colours seemed to mean nothing to others, but not to Steven. He paid attention to everything, especially when it came to you and there was no way he was going to forget his first date with you. He knew you chose the colours with a reason.
“Is it because on our first date, I was wearing a blue shirt and you were wearing—“
“A yellow dress, yes.”
A giggle erupted in your chest when you realised Steven knew why you picked the colours. His heart warmed when he noticed how happy you were to know that he remembered the little details. It was not as if Steven could get you out of his mind. He thought about you every day even when you were by his side.
“You can use these for your books. I was thinking of what origami should I make for you and I guessed these would be useful.”
Your voice was almost timid, and Steven wanted nothing more but to kiss you when you looked so pretty like that.
“I love these so much. And they’re heart-shaped. So adorable.”
He said, watching as your eyes sparkled in excitement at his words. Steven did not wait any second to pull you in for a kiss, showing you just how much he loved the little heart-shaped bookmarks you made for him.
Marc knew about the heart-shaped bookmarks you made for Steven, and he never expected anything from you since he was not as much of a reader like Steven. He would not want a bookmark when he could not even remember the last time he touched a book as himself and not Steven.
But you were a thoughtful person, and you knew just what he needed.
As soon as he walked into your shared home, he was greeted by you who practically ran into his arms. Marc shook his head, but unable to hide his smile as he hugged you back, kissing your head softly.
“I missed you.”
Your voice was muffled against his chest, not wanting to leave his arms anytime soon. Marc’s smile turned into a grin, and he cupped your face, looking you in the eyes.
“I missed you too.”
His favourite thing to do with you was just sitting in the couch together, as you talked to him about your day and he would tell you about his. There was something so calm and normal about it that just made his heart swell in happiness. His life was full of unexpected twists and turns, but with you, he could just let go of control and let himself be happy.
You were telling him about your awful colleague who made you feel bad today, and he listened carefully to your every word. He wanted to make sure that nothing bad happen to you. You seemed to notice his tense shoulders, making you quickly added that you were fine and your colleague was not that bad.
“Oh, I have something for you!”
In the middle of the conversation, you just remembered that you a gift for him. Marc watched with an amused smile as you went to get your gift. He frowned when you came back, hiding something from him as you asked him to close his eyes. Groaning, he did what you told him to do. He was not going to lie, your gifts always manage to send him into a love spiral.
“Open your eyes now.”
Marc raised his eyebrow, noticing that you were holding a small glass jar. He took it from you, and realised it was filled with colourful stars origami. He never thought some stupid folded papers would make him feel so appreciated and loved. What did he do to deserve you?
“I know this might seem foolish to you but the little stars are actually my love notes for you.”
Oh, his heart. He could not say anything as he stared at you, lovestruck, feeling a wave of happy tears was going spill from his eyes.
“The yellow stars are for your happy days, the blue stars are for your sad days even if I never want you to be sad at all. And oh, the pink stars are for whenever you need a reminder that I love you.”
You wrote the love notes for him, folded them into little stars, put them in a jar just so he could keep it or take it anywhere he wanted. Marc felt like crying, but then he realised he was really crying. You have never seen him cry before.
“Did I— Did I say something wrong, Marc? I’m so sorry if you don’t like it—“
Before you could panic even more, he kissed you. The kiss was tender and sweet, so effortlessly sweet that you felt dizzy afterwards. Breathless, you looked at Marc who had a love dazed smile on his face.
“I’m so in love with you.”
He breathed out, and suddenly it felt like the first time for you hearing the confession of love from him. Heat rushed from your chest to your face, and you kissed him again, letting him melt under your touch. Felt like teasing you, Marc pulled away from you for a moment, chuckling when you pouted.
“I think I need to read the pink stars now.”
“There’s no need for that tonight. I’m here to show you just how much I love you.”
Now you have not got the chance to see Jake for almost a week. He did not front as often as Marc and Steven, and honestly you missed him. But when you woke up that morning, your boyfriend was showering you with kisses, you knew it was him. You smiled when his lips found yours, leaving you breathless every time.
“Do you miss me?”
You nodded, a shy smile was emblazoned on your face. There was something about Jake that made you feel like smiling and giggling whenever he looked at you with so much adoration in his eyes. His gaze was always sharp and tense, but not with you.
“Do you miss me?”
You asked him back, running your fingers down his jaw, admiring how gorgeous he was. Jake grabbed your wrist, kissing your knuckles softly before moving his lips to place a kiss on your nose.
“Of course, I do.”
He wanted to stay in bed all day, holding you close to his chest. It was during a moment like this that made him realise how smitten he was with you. He thought it was not possible for someone to fall in love this hard, but with you, he would do anything that you asked him to. You owned his heart and soul.
“I have a surprise for you.”
“Really?”
You quickly sat up, unable to hide your excitement at his words. He nodded, a smirk was painted on his face as he went to get his surprise for you. You chewed on your bottom lip as you waited patiently. When he got back, your jaw dropped.
“I made this for you, mi sol.”
Jake gave you a bouquet of origami flowers, nerves were wrecking his soul. He was never the one with the thoughtful gifts, like you were. He was all about giving you the most expensive and outlandish gifts, thinking that you deserved the best things in the world.
However, he found out about your new hobby and he thought it was cute. He also saw how you appreciated Steven and Marc with your new hobby, and he knew you would have an origami made for him too. Hence, before you could, he wanted to surprise you first, to show that he really cared.
He saw you staring at the flowers in your hands. For the first time, Jake could not tell what you were feeling at the moment. There was a hint of a smile on your lips, but your eyes were watery and he was getting worried.
“I’ve never done this before. The flowers might be a little weird because I learned from the internet and it was so hard. But you love flowers and you love origami so I thought you would like it.”
He never rambled before, and he winced when he realised he was rambling like Steven. Jake shook his head in disbelief. He always said he hated Steven’s rambling but now he was so nervous that he did the same thing.
“You can just throw them away. I’ll buy you real flowers instead.”
He offered, not expecting you to gasp at his suggestion, like you were truly offended.
“Why would I throw them away?”
“Because… You hate them?”
You could not believe he thought you hated the origami flowers he made just for you. He was the toughest and the most intimidating boyfriend you had, and to think that he was doing something which was so precious to you just because you loved it— It was reminding you once again why you fell in love with him at the first place.
“I would never throw these flowers away. I love them. I love you.”
You grabbed his arm, pulling him to sit next to you in bed. He rested his forehead against yours, taking your hands to intertwine your fingers with his. Your heart was beating so fast you were sure he could hear your heartbeat.
“I can’t believe you learned to make these flowers just for me.”
“Honestly, the tutorial video is ten minutes long and it was really hard for me to focus.”
You laughed, and he sighed in content, wanting to listen to the sweet voice of yours forever. He still remembered how you used to put a hand over your mouth when you laughed, but Jake made sure to chase your insecurities away, letting you be yourself comfortably around him.
You pulled away from him, only to look at the origami flowers with a smile on your face. Pride was spiralling in his chest, since he had never seen you smile so big that he was sure your cheeks started to hurt.
“Marc and Steven can’t compete, can they?”
A smug smile was dancing on his lips, aware that they could hear what he just said. You rolled your eyes, not wanting to boost his ego even more. You knew they could get jealous over each other, but at the end of the day, you loved all of them and never once did you think to put them in comparison.
“Don’t be mean, Jake.”
“I’m not being mean. I’m just telling the truth, like good people do.”
He retorted, and you shook your head at him, trying to seem like you were disagreeing with him but the grin on your face was telling him otherwise. Jake wrapped his arms around your waists, easily pulling you to lie on top of him.
“I’m still buying you real flowers after this.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I want to, mi sol. Now shut up and let me kiss you.”
You knew now that whatever you do, no matter how silly or insignificant they were to you or to others— Those things were precious to your boyfriends. They would never let you feel unlovable or unappreciated, not as long as they were with you, and that meant forever.
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