#Marcus Pike angst
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I'll Crawl Home To Her | Marcus Pike
Fic Summary | Marcus Pike had been the man of your dreams until a promotion tore your away from him. Four years later, a wedding brings you back together, but it the bubble you've built over this one weekend going to crash and burn just like it did before?
Pairing | Marcus Pike x Bridesmaid F!Reader
Fic Warnings | Explicit. Exes to Lovers, themes of second chance love, references to food and alcohol, descriptions of a wedding, Marcus Pike being a dirty talking menace, talk of contraception, unprotected PiV sex, creampie, semi-public sex, oral sex (F), overstimulation if you squint, allusions to oral sex (M) and mentions of a facial cumshot, mutual pining, flirting, two idiots in love, a touch of angst, basically two idiots who never got over each other have a lot of sex over a weekend.
Word Count | 7.9K (I can only apologise lmfao)
Authors Note | So, two weekends ago I was a bridesmaid and spent the entire time messaging @undercoverpena about how I wished Marcus Pike would whisk me away to the bathroom, tell me how pretty I was and give me a good time.... and this is what's come of this. Entirely self-indulgent but we love that for me sometimes. If you enjoy this, please consider commenting or reblogging - I'd love to know what you think of it! And if you'd like to support me further, you can donate to my Ko-Fi.
Moodboard is for aesthetic purposes only - reader is a blank slate. Although if you're interested in the dress I chose for her - it's this.
Divider by the amazing @saradika
Please follow @thetriumphantpandanotifs for writing updates.
Main Masterlist | Ko-Fi.
âIâm sorry, Mike,â Marcus is still out of breath as he clutches the champagne flute in his hand, chest heaving as his sucks in air to his lungs, âI didnât mean to be so late.â
âMarcus, buddy, itâs fine,â His friend puts a reassuring hand on his shoulder, he knows Marcus gets anxious when things outside of his control happen, like the delay to his flight from D.C. to London, and then the delay in getting from London to the wedding venue, âYouâre here now, thatâs all that matters.â
Marcus nods, chugging down half the champagne in one go, hoping itâll calm his anxiety a little. He had cursed Mike and Cassie for choosing to have their wedding in England, but Mikeâs family, most of them ageing now and unable to make the long trip to D.C. had insisted on it. As he looks around the large reception room, he muses internally to himself that it was beautiful. A huge room, semi-decorated for tomorrowâs reception and dinner. Itâs a smaller affair tonight, immediate family and friends for the rehearsal dinner, but he can imagine that tomorrow, once all is said and done, itâll be the perfect backdrop for their wedding.
âWhereâs Cassie?â Marcus asks, looking around the room, finding a distinct lack of the bride and the bridal party Mike hadnât shut up about over the last few months.
âSheâs just sorting the last of the decorations for the ceremony room,â Mike explains, waving a hand to the waitress currently doing the round with a refilled tray of champagne, âSheâll be here soon.â He finished with a wink, which, although is odd, Marcus doesnât question, just picks up another glass of champagne and stands talking to his friend and whoever is milling around offering their congratulations.
Thereâs a flurry of conversation that has Marcus turning around a few minutes later, he can see Cassie and her mother, who are pulled to the side by someone from the venue holding up two different types of ribbon, asking which one they want to drape around the columns and which one to tie around the chair backs. Itâs not Cassie that Marcus is interested in though, itâs the bridesmaid that follows behind her.
He can feel his throat constrict, a small pit opening in his stomach thatâs somewhere between the feeling of dread and excitement. He can feel the palms of his hands starting to get clammy, so he drains his glass and sets it down on the nearest table to avoid an accident. Then, he thinks he might actually pass out when you finally look at him, eyes searching his face and then the glimmer of recognition that you know exactly who he is, remember exactly the last time youâd seen him, and exactly what had happened when you had.
Your leg is bouncing underneath the dining table, food somewhat eaten regardless of the fact that itâs your favourite. Youâve dug half-moon shapes into the palms of your hands and bitten the inside of your mouth enough to taste blood.
âAre you going to tell me whatâs wrong?â Itâs Marcus, sitting across from you, plate cleared, completely oblivious as to whatâs about to come.
âI got offered a promotion.â You tell him simply, running one hand up and down your opposite arm in an attempt to soothe yourself.
âDarling!â He exclaims, âThatâs amazing!â He doesnât move to get up, but reaches his hand out, palm up for you to take, which you do, letting his hand softly clasp yours in his own, âWhy are you so upset then?â
Taking a deep breath in, biting your bottom lip, you decide itâs best to rip the band-aid off sooner rather than later, âItâs not here, Marcus,â You sigh, âThe job is in D.C.â
The smile, the light of his eyes, everything on his face that had just seconds ago been showing joy, had faltered. Much like you imagine your face would have when youâd been offered the job. A significant pay rise, governmental opportunities, bigger clients, a shot at being a proper lawyer for once, but with the caveat that you had to uproot your comfortable Austin life for D.C. and with it, Marcus Pike.
âI donât have to go,â You follow up with, âI havenât accepted yet, Iâve got some time to think.â
You feel him squeeze your hand, his other palm coming out to rest on your wrist, slowly tracing the blue veins he can see there, âLook at me,â He asks softly, which you do, the tears that had been forming in your own eyes starting to spill down your cheeks when you find Marcusâ eyes glassed over too, âBaby, this is such an amazing opportunity, you canât say no because of me.â
Because thatâs what you would be doing. Marcus, brilliant, funny, intelligent Marcus, wouldnât be able to follow you to D.C. There had been some talk about his work in the Art Crimes team with the higher ups, people who were impressed at his success rate, people who wanted to keep him here, send him off to California even. He was at too much of a crossroads to be able to follow you to D.C.
âI donât want to lose you though,â You sniff, free hand coming to wipe away some of the tears that are falling from your eyes, âI love you.â
Marcus hums, finally pushes himself off his chair, letting the legs scrape across his kitchen floor, until heâs sat right in front of you, knees touching, his palms on the tops of your thighs, warm and soothing, âI love you too,â He says, bringing one hand up to cup your cheek, making sure youâre looking at him, âBut this is what youâve wanted, youâve been working so hard baby and Iâm not going to let you stay here just because of me.â
Itâs killing you inside, because you want so badly to ask him to follow you. To drop everything and come to D.C. Youâve been together two years, youâre comfortable together, he makes you so happy, youâve talked about moving in together, starting a life together, but you know deep down youâre asking him to do something unfair.
âSo, I guess your stance on long-distance relationships hasnât changed?â You ask, tone soft and sad, tears falling down your cheeks.
You watch him as his own tears fall, his hands clutching your own so tightly as he gives you a soft smile, âBaby, I wish I could say yes, I wish I could drop it all and follow you, or promise you weâd talk on the phone every day and see each other every weekend, but you know we canât do it.â
Biting at your lip, you nod, because you know heâs right. Youâre a lawyer, you barely have free time as it is - weekends more often than not spent sat on the couch with him, tapping away at your laptop whilst he looks over case files. It would never work.
Marcus leans forward, presses a kiss to your forehead, then pulls you into a hug. You clutch your hands to his back, inhaling the smell of him on his shirt , watching the light blue turn darker as it catches your tears.
âWhen do you go?â He asks quietly into the crook of your neck, soft kiss placed to the skin right after.
âA few weeks, probably.â
âWell, letâs enjoy them while we still can, hey?â You nod silently, âAnd maybe one day, weâll find each other again.â
âAnd maybe one day, weâll find each other again.â
Those words still echo in your ears four year later, like they have at various different points since you last saw Marcus Pike. Leaving had been hard. Heâd helped you pack everything up, driven you to the airport, kissed you before security and promised he wouldnât forget you. Youâd text a for a few weeks before life dragged you in one direction and him in another. No-one had quite been able to live up to him either. Sure, youâd tried dating, seen people for a few months before deciding they werenât quite the man who had almost been able to give you everything you ever wanted.
And now here he is, standing in front of you, pale as a ghost as if heâs about to keel over and have a heart attack. You want to run to him, to fling yourself into his arms and make sure heâs real. You want to press your lips to his, let him kiss you like he always used to, to clutch you to his body and whisper sweet things into your ear, but you have no idea what heâs been doing these past four years - for all you know, you could get closer and find a wedding band across his left finger.
Itâs a blessing when Cassieâs hand wraps around your wrist and pulls you over to the side.
âDo you prefer the dusky rose or the blush pink?â She asks, holding up two ribbons that look identical to your eye.
You want to tell her does it really matter, they both look exactly the same. You want to tear your wrist away from her and go to Marcus, but instead you settle for a warm smile and âItâs your wedding Cass, you choose what you want.â
And when you turn around, looking back over to Mike, Marcus Pike is nowhere to be found. Like he was a mirage. A figment of your hopeful imagination. Something conjured up after your mother had set you down at the airport and said, âBridesmaidâs always get lucky at weddings, you might find your own husband.â
When everyone is called to sit down for the rehearsal dinner, you jump at the opportunity to let Cassie sit down and eat, whilst you get pulled away by the staff to advise on which candles to use for the ceremony room and where exactly to place the flower arch for the best photos tomorrow. When you make it back, everyone is standing, milling around, getting drinks from the bar, which you decide you desperately need.
âA negroni, please.â You ask for after taking a few seconds to peruse the cocktail menu set out. The stronger the better.
âI see your tastes havenât changed in the last few years.â
Youâre pretty sure that if there was a mirror in front of you, the look of shock on your face would be comical, as Marcus Pike sidles up to the bar next to you. Up close, heâs just as handsome as he always had been, except now, heâs got a beard and more fine lines in the corners of his eyes, which means heâs been happy, smiling, whilst youâve been gone. It makes your heart swell that heâs been happy.
âI wonder if yours have.â You counter, tilting your head towards the bartender who is waiting for him to order.
âJust a beer for now.â He smiles, but at you, not the bartender.
âThatâll be a no then.â
Thereâs a moment of silence between the both of you as you sip the cocktail given to you, and Marcus takes a swig of his beer. His left hand is wrapped around the bottle, no sign of the wedding ring you were convinced youâd find. You want to say something, anything, but when you go to open your mouth, he beats you to it.
âYou look well.â
You canât help but chuckle. Of all the things he could have chosen to say to you, you hadn't thought it would be that.
âSo do you.â You compliment back.
Thereâs another silence, the two of you just looking at each other. Youâre soaking him up, committing him to memory to replace the old Marcus you knew so well.
âAre you here alone?â You ask, playing with the glass in your hand.
You watch as he runs his tongue over his bottom lip, âAre you?â
âI asked you first, Agent Pike.â
He tilts his head towards his shoulder in a movement that says heâll give you that one, âIâm here alone.â
You canât help but smile a little, biting at your bottom lip to try and hide how pleased you are, âSo am I.â
Looking up at him through your lashes, you notice the exact moment those brown eyes that youâre so used to getting lost in darken, watching you as you sip your drink, tip of your tongue jutting out to catch a drop from your bottom lip.
âIs your room completely over the top?â You ask, watching as he swallows deeply, âBecause mine is, Iâd love to know what the honeymoon suite must be like.â
âDepends what you mean by completely over the top?â He quirks an eyebrow.
âDo you want me to show you?â
He doesnât even respond. He sets his half-finished beer down on the bar, takes your almost-empty negroni from your hand and does the same. Then heâs taking hold of your hand, lacing your fingers together like he always did, dragging you out of the room. You turn to find Cassie and Mike, looking at you both as you have to jog to keep up with Marcusâ pace. Both of them are winking, smiling, and Mike even throws a thumbs up your way. You can feel heat rising on your cheeks as you turn your head away from them.
âWhich floor?â Marcus asks then you reach the grand staircase in the lobby.
âSecond.â
He doesnât let go of your hand, but takes the stairs two at a time, meaning by the time you reach the second floor, youâre out of breath from running behind him, trying to keep up.
âWhich room?â
Itâs your turn to lead him now, stepping in front of him to walk down the hallway to room 212. You fish the keycard from the back pocket of your jeans, wasting no time in pushing the door open when the tiny light turns green.
Itâs dark inside, but you donât care. Marcus Pike pins you against the wall, his thigh between your legs, both hands on your waist, and then his lips are on yours. The way he kisses hasnât changed a bit. His mouth slants over yours, softly at first, but when you open your lips against his, hands clutching at the collar of his shirt, itâs just like you remember from all those years ago. He tastes the same, mint from the gum he always chews, the tang of the beer on his tongue, and that distinct taste thatâs just him.
He swallows a groan from you as your pitch your hips down, denim rubbing on denim as he devours your mouth. His hands on your waist trail down just a little, finding the top of your jeans, floating under your shirt just a little to touch the bare skin underneath. His hands are warm and strong as they start guiding you to move against his thigh as his tongue works against yours.
Marcus pulls away from your mouth just as a particularly breathy moan leaves your mouth. It makes you both stop. Stand still. Eyes adjusting to the darkness of the room as you both realise exactly whatâs happening. You know you should stop, talk about whatâs clearly about to happen, but when did talking ever help anything.
âDonât think about it,â Marcus sighs, leaning down to trail kisses along your jaw, âWe talk after.â
âWe talk after.â You say, mainly to the room more than anything else.
Your hands are still clutching at his shirt when his fingers find the button on your jeans. Still as adept at it as heâd always been, he pops the button open and pulls down the zipper, letting his hand trail down, settling across the lace of your underwear, cupping your pussy, letting his fingers trace along skin through lace.
A hiss leaves your mouth as you work your body in time with the slow, teasing movements of Marcusâ hand, âYouâve changed,â You manage to breathe out, your hand coming to the back of his neck to pull his mouth nearer to yours, âWhen you were desperate for me youâd never tease.â
You can feel his lips smile against the skin of your neck where heâs tracing wet kisses along the skin, hand still feather-light between your legs, âIâve learnt to be more patient, honey.â
âAnd if I asked you not to?â
âIn all the years I knew you, never once did you beg for it.â He pulls back, your eyes now accustomed to the dark, able to see him better, his voice is low, âUnless youâve changed, youâll have to put up with it.â
You grasp his cheeks in your palms, his hand still teasing you, pull his attention to you fully, âMarcus Pike, I swear to all that is holy that if you do not spread me out on my bed and fuck me in the next five minutes, I will die.â
He makes a âtskâ sound, his head shaking in your hands, âThatâs not begging for it honey,â He coos, âYou gotta ask nicely for it.â
You let out a grumble of frustration, but you have to admit, this new version of the man you knew so well before is enticing. You can feel the way wetness is settling between your thighs, youâre sure if he dipped his fingers down heâd have some smart comment about how soaked you were for him already.
So you swallow your pride, you know itâll be worth it in the end, âPlease.â
âGood girl.â
It all happens in a flurry. One moment youâre against the wall, the next your back is against the mattress, Marcusâ hips pressed to yours as his hands work to push your shirt up and off your body. Your back hits the mattress again and his mouth is on you almost instantly, his lips trailing down your sternum, between the valley of your breasts. Pushing himself back on his knees, he brings his hands to the cups of your bra, pulling them down. Your nipples pebbling against the cold of the air.
His lips are back on you almost immediately, nipple enveloped into the warmth of his mouth, tip of his tongue flicking at it, making your back arch off the bed, pressing further into his mouth. Your hand comes to tangle in the curls at the back of his head, anchoring him to your body. As his mouth works across your chest, you canât quite believe whatâs happening to you. The man of your dreams, the person you always thought you were destined for, back, right here between your thighs, the bulge in the front of his jeans all too familiar to you.
Head tipped back in pleasure, you breathe out into the air, âI canât believe youâre here.â
He tears off your breast with a wet pop, looking up at you through his lashes, mouth kissing down your body, across the soft of your tummy, he taps at your sides, lifting your hips up to drag your jeans and underwear down your legs, flung behind him and forgotten when you plant the flat of your feet onto the bed and let your knees fall open.
Marcus isnât a religious man, he never has been, but knelt between your thighs, hands flying to rid himself of his clothes, watching as you gingerly trail your hand between your thighs, eyes on him as you play with your clit, he thinks he might have to start believing. As he stands to take the last of his clothes off, standing at the foot of the bed, naked with his cock in his hand, watching your face, he thanks the Lord for whatever mischief they had to concoct to get you back here with him.
He crawls back up your body, kissing from ankle to thigh, settling himself between your thighs, cock sliding through your slick folds as he lays his body down against yours, one of his hands slipping under your neck, cradling the back of your head, the other cupping your cheek, moving your face to look right into his eyes. Heâs so fucking close to you, lips barely a hairs breadth from your own.
âI have to be inside you,â He pants against your mouth, âI promise I'll spend hours between your thighs later baby, but I have to be inside you.â
He doesnât give you any time to respond, just shifts his hips a little, sinking himself into your aching cunt. You arch up into him, moaning against his mouth as he stills. The hand clutching at your cheek trails down your neck, thumb flicking against your nipple as it travels to rest on your hip.
âStop squirming,â He pleads, âPlease.. Just stay still a minute.â
He feels so right, nestled inside your pussy. The weight of his body pressed against yours takes you right back to all the nights before, locked away in his Austin apartment in the dead of night, making each other feel good, making promises at the height of your combined pleasure to each other that never materialised. You can feel tears settle in your eyes as he starts moving, pulling himself out of you slowly, pushing back in even slower.
Marcus leans down, kissing the salty tears from your cheeks, shushing you, âDonât cry baby,â He whispers into your ear, âIâve got you now.â
Your hands are clutching at his shoulders, nails digging small, half-moon shapes into his skin there. He feels just as incredible moving inside you as he always did, but thereâs something settling in your tummy, the feeling that you knew so well with him, that youâve only really known with yourself since.
âI can feel you baby,â Marcus groans into your ear as the thrusts of his cock get a little faster, a little harder, âClenching all perfectly around me,â He takes hold of one of your wrists, dragging it between the both of you, resting it right where you need it, âI wonât last baby,â He admits, âTouch yourself and weâll do it together?â
So you do, you rub tight, precise circles over your clit as Marcus pushes himself up, takes your thighs in his palms, pushing your legs back as far as he can. The change in angle makes you cry out as he really starts fucking you now. The only sounds in the room are the slapping of his skin against yours, your whimpers and his groans. You can feel the tightening coil across your abdomen, breath hitching in your throat, youâre so fucking close to coming undone on him.
âMarcus,â You whine, âIâm gonna-â You trail off as he shifts a little more, pressing your legs further back, cock hitting that unholy sweet spot inside you, âGonna come.â
âGo on baby,â He encourages, âIâll be right behind you.â
And thatâs how it ends. Eyes shut so tightly you can feel tears pooling at the corners, cunt clenching around his cock as you cry out his name. Itâs so familiar, the way it feels, the way he sounds, like no time has passed at all and youâre exactly the same as youâd both been four years ago. Heâs pounding into you as your body convulses underneath, thighs shaking and toes curling as his hips start to stutter.
âWhere?â He manages to choke out, his tone reminiscent of all those times before when he was holding on, teetering on the edge, wanting to know what you wanted.
âIâm s-safe,â You manage to choke out, head reeling from your own orgasm, âThe pill.â
He doesnât need to hear anymore, finally giving in, knowing youâve fallen apart for him, heâs groaning your name into the dark, you can feel him spilling into you, claiming you, marking you as his own in a way only the two of you could ever understand. He lets go of your thighs, letting your legs drop back into comfort as he slowly drags himself from you, collapsing onto the bed next to you.
Thereâs a few moments of silence. Your arm is draped across your face, chest rising and falling as you try to suck in enough air to calm your breathing, Marcus doing the same across the bed. You roll over, putting yourself on your side so you can look at him. Heâs led on his back, head turned to look at you in the dull light of the room - the moonlight through the window the only thing illuminating the two of you. He reaches out, traces your face with his hand.
âI can't believe youâre real.â He speaks softly, rolling over to face you, pulling your warm body to his.
âI know we said weâd talk after,â You whisper, hand trailing over his waist to rest across his back, âBut can we just stay like this for a while?â Itâs a soft plead, you donât want to be reminded that this was probably a bad idea, you want to hold this man in front of you and forget that in a few short days itâll all be over, heâll go back to wherever he is now, and youâll go back to D.C. lonelier than ever.
âIâll stay here as long as youâll let me, honey.â
Marcus, against his better judgement, stays with you all night. You donât talk. You curl up into his side, settle against his body as he wraps his arms around you. Itâs inevitable that he casts his mind back to how things used to be. To the history you share with each other. He still, to this day, hasnât stopped thinking about you, about what would have been if youâd stayed. Would you be married? Probably, he thinks. Heâd thought of it often towards the end, before your promotion. Stopped outside jewellery shops, tried to imagine which kind of ring youâd want â heâd even slipped one of your rings onto his own finger, figuring out where it stopped so he could pick the right size when the time came. Would you have children? He isnât sure, neither of you had ever spoken about it, youâd never expressed a want to have them, but heâs certain if youâd have asked, heâd have given them to you.
He falls asleep, waking up hours later, darkness still pervading. He turns on his side, spooning his front to your back. Youâre half-awake when you press yourself back into him, bring your hand up to clutch at his head as he slips inside you once more, his hand holding your thigh up. He breathes into your ear, whispers filth to you as he rocks his hips against you. When you feel his teeth trail over your shoulder, he chuckles when you tell him off.
âI canât walk down the aisle with bruises on my shoulders, Marcus.â
Itâs soft, and he tips you over the edge, feeling you clench around him as his fingers trace circles over your clit, following just behind you, filling you up once more. He doesnât pull away from you, just settles your thigh back down, resting himself inside of you as you both fall back to sleep.
Then, heâs awake before your alarm. He wakes you with a kiss to your forehead, tells you to go back to sleep when you protest and try and coax him back to the warmth of your sheets. He has to shower he says, has to help Mike get ready, but heâll be waiting for you, watching you all day. Marcus smiles, really smiles, when you curl over back onto your side, soft breaths and mumbles as you fall back to sleep, and as he walks to his own room and stands waiting for the shower to warm, thereâs a feeling of content that spreads through him â should he have fucked you last night? Probably not. Should he have encouraged you to talk more? Probably yes. He knows heâs got his cards hidden, heâs not letting on that this might not have to just exist here, but heâll keep that to himself for just a little longer.
âSo,â Cassie smirks from her place in the make-up chair, artist flitting around her, pressing all number of products into her face, âYou and the groomsman?â
âShut up,â You mutter to her, trying not to scratch at your face, make-up already settling uncomfortably across your skin, âA momentary lapse of judgement.â
She hums, and then moves her focus back to the make-up artist who is tilting her face to put on some blush, âYou donât have to lie to me, you know,â She says to you as you pass her a mimosa, âI know that was Marcus. The Marcus.â
Thereâs a moment where you feel like a deer in headlights, like youâve been caught being up to no good, even though you know thatâs not the case. Then you turn slowly to her, eyebrow raised, and see her smirking, much to the chagrin of the make-up artist who urgently wants to get her lipstick on her so she can move onto the final bridesmaid.
âHeâs Mikeâs friend, they went to school together, see each other quite often these days â apparently he always talks about a girl from Austin, no-one could ever compare, heâs tried moving on, done this, done that, but always came back to thinking about the one who got away,â She stops talking to take a drink, âWhich sounded oddly familiar to someone else I know.â
Sheâs not wrong really â Cassie had been a lifeline when youâd moved to D.C. a work colleague turned best friend, who has been the shoulder to cry on whenever dates had gone badly, or even when theyâd been good, but you just couldnât get Marcus Pike off your brain. She told you, like most good friends would, that it would take time, youâd find someone right for you, someone who would take your mind right off Marcus, but it never happened.
âYou did this on purpose!â You accuse, but its friendly, because really, her and her soon-to-be husband have only done what you had always wanted to do yourself, pick up the phone, no matter how long it has been and tell the man you still loved him.
âOf course we did,â She chuckles, âDonât think about it too much,â She adds, âJust enjoy this today and most of all, behave yourself.â
When Cassie walks down the aisle, itâs not her that Marcus is looking at â itâs you. He hadnât thought it possible for him to find you more beautiful than he had before, but in your dark green dress, slit cut into the fabric to show off one of your legs as you walk, dress cut perfectly to sit on all the curves of your body that he always did love, he canât deny youâre the most beautiful thing heâs ever seen. He spends the entire ceremony making eyes at you, smirking when you meet his gaze. He wants to tell you how lovely you look, lean down and plant a kiss to your lips in front of everyone, but he doesnât get a chance until cocktail hour, once youâve had your pictures taken and Cassie has insisted on you finally having a drink and enjoying your day instead of flapping about whether she needs anything from you.
âHas anyone told you how beautiful you look today?â He asks, hand settling on your waist as you lean against the bar waiting for your drink.
âFunnily enough, itâs not me most people have been looking at.â You quip back, taking the margarita from the bartender when itâs handed to you.
âIâve been looking at you.â
âI know,â You smirk, âPretty sure I ruined my panties stood at the top of the aisle.â
âBecause the ceremony moved you so much?â
âBecause I couldnât stop thinking about your face between my thighs, actually.â
He looks exactly like he always used to when you flirt with him like this. Eyes low and dark, mouth slightly ajar like he canât quite believe youâve just been so forward. Heâs not thinking straight anymore, and much like he had done last night, he grips around your wrist and starts dragging you from the reception room, this time there are considerably more people so you manage to slip out unnoticed.
Instead of heading up the stairs, taking you to your room or his, he turns left down a hallway, tearing open the door to one of the bathrooms. Itâs a single stall, lock clicking behind him. You press your back against the wall, setting your drink down on the sink.
Marcus takes three steps towards you, hand slipping around your waist, pulling you flush against his body, lips so close that you can feel his breath on your skin.
âDo you know how sinful youâve looked all day?â He asks, âWalking around looking all innocent, but I know youâve been begging to get fucked all day, havenât you?â You whine at him in response, trying to chase his mouth as he pulls back, âDonât think I didnât see you rubbing your thighs together during the ceremony.â
âItâs only because you wouldnât stop looking at me.â
His hand finds the skin of your thigh, the slit of your dress making it easy for him to trail up to the hem of your panties.
âIf I put my fingers on you,â He breathes, âWill you be wet?â
âWhy donât you find out?â You cock your head to the side, biting your lip as you look at him, his hand pulling your panties to the side, thick fingers slipping between your folds.
âBaby,â He moans, finally taking your bottom lip between his, nipping your skin with his teeth a little before he pulls away, fingers slipping inside you, pulling a groan from your throat, âSoaked for me?â
âAlways, Marcus.â
He drags his fingers from you, spins you around, and reaches down to bring your palms up to rest against the wall in front you. He puts his hands on your hips, dragging your ass backwards until you can feel him through his trousers. His hands shuck your dress up to your waist and instead of tearing your panties off, he pushes them to the side. You look over your shoulder at him, as much as you can, and watch as he undoes his belt, pulls the zipper of his trousers down and reaches in, pulling his cock out. His trousers are pushed down just enough to let him free himself, and you donât think youâve seen such a beautiful sight in your life, than Marcus Pike with his fist around his cock, running his hand up and down himself as he moves to nudge the head of his cock at your soaked core.
Unlike last night, he isnât gentle when he pushes into you. Heâs buried inside your cunt in seconds, setting a pace that punches the air from your lungs. You know that even though youâre locked in here, away from the party, thereâs still every chance someone is going to walk past, try the door handle, and hear exactly whatâs going on in here, so youâre trying your best to keep the noise to a minimum.
âNeeded you so badly, baby,â Marcus chokes out behind you, hands gripping your hips hard enough that youâre sure youâll have his fingerprints embedded onto your skin, âAlways so pretty for me, arenât you?â
Heâs hitting that sweet spot inside you, over and over again, and you have to bite your lip to keep yourself from crying out. You feel one of his hands trail up your spine through the material of your dress, coming to rest with a grip around the nape of your neck, his fingers itching to slide up into your hair and grip it.
âYou canât,â You plead, âDonât mess my hair up.â
âI wonât baby.â He pants out from behind you, trailing his hand down just a little so heâs not tempted to take a fistful of it to pull you back, arch you into him even more.
Itâs fast and itâs hard, everything Marcus never really used to be. He liked to take his time, spread you out and have you crying for him before he slipped inside you, slowly, watching every contort of pleasure on your face. You think you like this new version of him, the one so desperate to have you he couldnât make it up the stairs, couldnât even pull your panties down your legs.
âMarcus,â You moan out, âPlease.â
âWhatâs that, baby?â He asked, mouth right by your ear, âYou begging for something?â
âMmmhmm.â
âWhat do you want?â
âMake me come?â
You think maybe he might try and tease you some more, but mercifully he takes the hand heâs got resting on your hip and snakes it down your body, letting his fingers find your clit - he had always been good at that. He drags the gathered slick where he can, cock still moving into you, pulling whimpers and moans whenever you feel his skin slap against yours, circles your clit quickly with the pad of his finger. You can feel your walls tightening around him, your thighs starting to shake as he continues doing exactly what heâs doing.
Itâs no secret to either of you that making you come always took time. Heâd never shamed you for it, always been more than happy to do whatever it took, for as long as it took, to get you there. But the mix of desperation for him, elation that heâs waltzed right back into your life, and the fact heâs fucking you in a public bathroom, have that coil tightening inside you quicker than ever.
âCan feel you getting tight around me baby,â He groans into your ear, âYou gonna let go for me?â
You donât have time to tell him yes. The tight coil snaps inside you, your eyes closed so tightly youâre sure the make-up around your eyes is dragging down your cheeks on tears. You can keep your voice down now as you flutter around his cock, you cry out his name, feeling his hands holding onto your hips to keep you steady as your legs threaten to fall out from underneath you.
Youâre only half aware of him speaking into your ear, telling you heâs close. You can feel him start to pull himself out of you, so you reach behind you quickly, fingernails digging into the part of his thigh you can reach to keep him inside you.
âI swear to god if you get cum on my dress Pike, Iâll kill you.â
He lets out a deep, throaty chuckle behind you, slams himself back into you, âYou just want an excuse for me to come inside you, donât you?â He hisses into your ear, teeth nipping at the skin behind your ear, âYou just have to ask nicely for it.â
âPlease, Marcus, please.â
Never one to deny you, he does, having held out as long as he could, he thrusts once, twice and then heâs moaning your name into your ear. You can feel him spilling inside of you, filling you up, then you can feel him dripping down your thigh when Marcus starts pulling away from you, not quite quick enough to put your panties back on. He tells you to keep still, fumbling behind him for some paper he can use to clean your thighs up.
He speaks to you as he lets the material of your dress fall back down over your legs, âWalking around full of me for the rest of the night.â He coos as you turn around, reaching out to pull his mouth to yours in a chaste kiss.
You stay like that for a moment, both attempting to fix the others clothes. Marcus brings his thumb to his mouth, letting his tongue jut out to wet it, before he drags it under your eye, getting rid of the worst of the black marks heâs caused.
You reach behind him, unlock the door, but take hold of his hand as you push the door open. Thankfully thereâs no-one waiting outside to use the bathroom as you drag him back down towards the party.
Itâs late. Or early depending on how you look at it. Marcus had dragged you from the dance floor at midnight, walked you slowly up to his room instead of yours. Heâd helped you out of your dress, let you shower and wash yourself clean, then, before you could put your robe on and insist on going to sleep, heâd taken your hand, led you to the chair near the balcony doors and heâd made good on his promise of last night to spend hours with his face between your legs.
âI canât,â You whine, Marcus handâs pinning your legs open, his tongue flicking against your clit, âItâs too much.â
He pulls off you just enough to speak, âBelieve in yourself baby,â He says, sinking two fingers into you, curling them upwards, âI know you can, just one more for me.â
Your whole body feels like its on fire. Youâve lost count of the amount of times heâs made you come tonight. There had been a small reprieve when youâd begged to suck his cock, Marcus obliging, painting your face and your tongue, before he settled right back to his knees. Itâs almost as if he thinks if he stops youâll disappear.
Your fingers are tangled in his hair, battling between tugging his face closer and pulling it away as he sucks your clit into his mouth, the added pressure along with the flicking of his tongue setting your skin on fire even more than before. Your hair is sticking to your forehead and the back of your neck, rivulets of sweat gathering at various points across your body as Marcus tips you over the edge once more.
Your mouth drops open in a silent scream, body feeling boneless as your whole body convulses at his touch. Almost like he knows, he pulls himself away from you gently, knowing that any more would be too much, saving you the need to beg him to stop. He presses soft kisses to the skin of your tummy, kissing up your body until heâs sitting up on his knees, kissing into your mouth, letting you taste yourself on him.
Marcus clambers to his feet, takes hold of your hand and pulls you to your feet, guiding you over to the bed to settle you under the sheets, the air peppering your sweaty skin with goosebumps. Itâs a sad realisation that you have to go home tomorrow, that the bubble youâve caught yourself up in over the past few days is about to burst. You think this might break your heart even more than the first time around.
âWhat are we going to do?â You ask against the skin of his chest as he pulls you into him.
âWhat do you mean?â He asks back, kiss pressed lightly to your forehead.
âWith us, after this?â Your fingers are tracing over his skin, trying to map the feeling of him before he leaves.
âWell, I thought maybe we could go for dinner sometime?â
You look up at him, face contorted in confusion, âYouâre going to come all the way from Austin to take me for dinner?â
âNo baby,â He chuckles a little, âI donât live in Austin anymore, I live in D.C.â
You push yourself up in bed, one hand on the mattress to keep yourself upright, looking down at Marcus, who reaches up to cup your cheek in his hand, thumb rubbing soft lines across your skin, âSince when?â
âTwo years?â He offers, âI would have-â He trails off a little, âI would have told you but I wasnât in a great place when I first moved, had no idea what your life would have even looked like either, I didnât just want to turn up out of the blue if youâd moved on, found someone else.â
Your hand comes up to clutch at the wrist of the arm cradling your face, âIâve waited so long for you,â You sigh, âI tried, tried to find someone else, but none of them were ever you Marcus.â
âI tried too,â He admits, because Lord knows he did, and for what? âI promise Iâll tell you everything one day, but right now, I want to fall asleep with you right here.â
You settle back down in bed, curling up against his side, arm draped over his waist, âWhere in the city do you live?â You ask, sleep starting to make your eyes heavy.
âIâm on 4th street, in Petworth.â
You canât help but laugh, because of course he fucking does. Marcus Pike has been living four streets over from you for the past two fucking years.
âYouâve been living four streets over from me for two years, Marcus.â
He runs his hands up and down your spine, gently, soothing you, âWell, thatâs convenient, isnât it?â He asks softly, âI can be at your front door in five minutes.â
âYou want to be my booty call, Marcus Pike?â
âIf thatâs what you want,â He speaks, âIâll be whatever you want me to be.â
âWhat are you doing Wednesday night?â
âNothing, as far as Iâm aware.â
âHow about you take me on a first date?â You offer, âLetâs learn each other all over again and take things from there?â
Marcus colts your chin up to his face with a finger, leaning down and giving you the softest kiss you think youâve ever received, âI would love nothing more.â
#Marcus Pike#Marcus Pike Smut#Marcus Pike x reader#Marcus Pike x you#marcus pike fanfiction#Marcus Pike x female reader#Marcus Pike x F!reader#Marcus Pike fic#Marcus Pike fanfic#the mentalist#the mental illness is winning#the mentalist fanfic#the mentalist fanfiction#Pedro pascal#marcus pike fluff#Marcus Pike angst#Marcus Pike Pedro Pascal#Marcus Pike The mentalist
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Little Pinch
nurse!marcus pike x f!reader
she needs to get bloodwork done. one small problem, getting bloodwork done never goes well for her, especially not when she's distracted by the very kind, very handsome nurse doing it.
wordcount | 3.3K
content info | 18+ discussions of getting bloodwork that includes needles, fainting, nausea, mostly fluff, nurse marcus to the rescue, this is just a fun time, also an un-beta'd time so like, be nice pls
a/n | shoutout to the girls (gn) that pass out every time they get blood work done (me). I have to get new labs tomorrow morning, and writing this is how I coped with that prospect :') this one is for the fainters, the thin veiners, the "just do it in my hand"-ers - i see you, i am you, gawd bless
..........................................................................
Hereâs the thing, this never goes well. It wasnât always like this though. She has a vague memory of being a kid and taking it like a perfect champ, testing for mono after a rash of cases at school. But then, well, something changed.Â
It runs in her family. Thin veins that are hard for even the best nurses to find, lots of oh, I just lost it, and well, letâs try your other arm, and always, ultimately, hands? Should we try the hands? No, the nurses never listen when she tells them to just start with the hands, and without fail, somewhere around the third or fourth time they try to get the needle in, a cold sweat breaks, and the room starts to filter through a fuzzy pinhole of vision. Itâs embarrassing, she thinks, because, really, she has no problem with needles. Can watch it go in, no issues with piercings, et cetera, et cetera, but getting blood drawn? Yeah, forget about it. She usually comes to with paperwork around her feet that she had been holding, and a well-meaning nurse pressing a damp paper towel to her forehead and breathing the remnants of her lunch over her face and alright, hon? Usually a box of apple juice and an escort out to her car to make sure she doesnât go offline again.Â
The other thing is, unfortunately, sheâs pretty sure her little fainting, fading thing has gotten worse over the years. A conditioned response, she thinks, that cold sweat starts the second she walks into the waiting room, already anticipating what comes next. And today, well, even worse than some of the others. Twelve hours fasted, and no, that certainly wonât help her case, no matter how much water she downed before she came here, no matter how tight she squeezes her fist in the hopes of pumping even one vein up enough to be tenable. She looks at the woman sitting across from her in the waiting room, reading a back-ordered issue of Cosmo, flipping and flippant and really, why canât she be like that? Why canât she be normal like that? Instead, her heel is doing a frantic tap, whole leg jerking with it, and everytime she checks her watch she feels her heart creep a little further up into her throat.Â
If sheâs being honest, she thought about canceling her labs. No, doc, all good, doc, donât need to know, doc. And then a friend pointed out, frustratingly, that avoidance is only going to make it worse. Right, so, right, so right, so, here she is. And hereâs the nurse opening the door and right, calling her name, and itâs a man nurse, male nurse, though sheâs pretty sure sheâs not being PC by making that specification in her mind because really, twenty-first century, and really, anyone can be a nurse. But not anyone, right? Lots of schooling, right? Right. She realizes a bit too late that she hadnât responded to the nurse calling her name, jerking up out of her chair and trying for a smile that she thinks probably looks more like constipation. And thatâs just great because now man nurse, sorry, just nurse, probably thinks sheâs constipated and sheâd rather not have the, actually, very handsome, just nurse, thinking that on top of whatever sheâs got going on that necessitates lab work she also canât take a shit. Right.Â
âWeâre going to be in this room right here.â Handsome just nurse has a nice voice too, deep but kind, and a strong jawline, and a patchy beard but she likes that itâs patchy, and heâs tan and heâs got one of those big watches that tells you how hard your heart was beating on your run and he probably runs in the afternoon after clocking out of the needle-in-arms gig and thatâs probably why heâs so tan, probably has a golden retriever who runs with him too, because he looks like a golden retriever guy, dark flop of wavy hair and that smile and oh, oh, he just asked her a question and now sheâs supposed to answer it.Â
âIâm sorry, could you say that again?â He smiles, nods, being nice, at least, about her whole scared prey animal situation. She presses her palm down hard on her knee to keep it from bouncing any more.Â
âIt says on this order that these labs need to be taken fasted. Can you confirm to me that you havenât had anything to eat or drink besides water in the last twelve hours?â Oh yes, yep, she can confirm that for you, Marcus, his name is Marcus, says so on his little lanyard badge. Thanks for the easy one, Marcus, pitch right down the middle, Marcus, with your nice smile and your clipboard and your, well, needles and tubes. But before he can get started with his, well, needles and tubes, she makes a strangled, sort of despondent sound because in situations like these, she comes with a warning label.Â
âI should let you know I have, um, bad veins? Honestly, you can just start with my hands, I donât mind it. And also, Iâm a fainter, yeah, so, it happens every time, just so you know.â And usually, usually, her spiel is given very little notice, mmmokay, hon. Sure, theyâll lay her back, how merciful, so she doesnât crack her skull open on the way out of conscious orbit. Thatâs about it, though. But this time, she thinks, might just be different.
âOkay, thank you for giving me the heads up. If youâre sure youâre alright with starting with the hands then itâs fine by me to get it done that way.â So, so fine, Marcus, and maybe, just maybe, she thinks she might not pass out this time. He sets the exam table at a reclined angle and she wills her rigid spine to settle against it, trying to find the balance between breathing so deeply she starts to get light headed, and not breathing at all. In case you were wondering, yes, she is on medication for anxiety, it just doesnât seem to presently be working.Â
âJust gonna feel around a bit here for a good one.â She only feels a little insane for the kick and clench in her heart when he takes her one hand in both of his, because heâs just palpating the back of her hand to find, as he said, a good one. Yes, the word for it is palpating, and there is certainly nothing romantic nor, hello, sexual about anything thatâs called palpating. But, hey, taking wins where she can get them, and even through the latex gloves, his hands are warm and big and very know what theyâre doing about the whole thing. And sheâs no expert, obviously, but heâs got a very nice, very visible vein in his forearm, and she bets phlebotomists love him, bets that when he gets blood drawn, heâs in and out no problem, bets that even she could draw blood from him. Nope, nothing sexual about that, nothing weird about that, right? Right. Nothing sexual either, when he ties off the tight band around her arm and she watches his one bicep flex a little with the effort.Â
âI can count you down, or you can look away and Iâll just get it done, whichever you prefer.â
âUh, no preference, Iâll just look away and you can do whatever you want to me.â Jesus. Jesus fucking Christ. She realizes exactly what she just said a bit too late, him, Marcus, nice nurse Marcus, letting out a laugh that fizzles out into a cough. Great, now sheâs made her fucking phlebotomist uncomfortable, possibly one of the last people you want to make uncomfortable. But if that, whatever that was, lingers, he doesnât show it, already swiping an antiseptic wipe over the back of her hand and pulling his little cart of tubes closer to himself. And she knows this part, sheâs good at this part, letting her eyes sweep up and to the right, because heâs on her left, and willing whatever vein he decided is a good one to stay a good one. Little pinch, little prayer, she lets out a held breath when he says a quiet alright and keeps the needle exactly where it is. Hallelujah.
âThis might take a little longer, just because weâre drawing from your hand.â
âIâll bleed as fast as I can then.â At the very least, he laughs, even though she wishes she had kept that one to herself.Â
âDo you live around here?â
âWhat kind of question is that?â
âSorry, Iâm trying to distract you.âÂ
âDidnât they teach you how to do that in like, phlebotomy school?â She still has her eyes turned up and away, only a little wince when he switches out one tube for another. He hums at her question.
âNot really, I could ask you about the weather, is that better?âÂ
âItâs cloudy. Not much of a conversation starter.âÂ
âWell, why donât you ask me something, since youâre such an expert on starting conversations.â
âDo you have a golden retriever?â
âWhat?â
âSorry, you just, you look like the kind of guy whoâd have a golden retriever.â Another tube clicks into place, but sheâs not paying any attention to that now.Â
âUh, no, no golden retriever. I do however have a very old, very deaf pit mix named Lucille.â Goddamnit, somehow thatâs hotter than the golden retriever.Â
âGreat name.â
âYeah, I thought so too. She came with it when I adopted her.â God. Fucking. Damn it. What next, is he a volunteer firefighter on the weekends?
âAlright, thatâs the last one.â
âWait, really?â She chances a skittish glance but, sure enough, the needle is out.
âYep, just let me get a band-aid for you and youâre all set.â Is he? Is she? Really? Going to make it out of here with no blackout? She considers, very briefly, as Marcus is smoothing a band-aid over the back of her hand, whether itâs possible to put a phlebotomist on retainer.Â
âIf you want to sit for a minute and make sure youâre feeling alright before getting up thatâs totally fine. I can also get you water or juice if youâre getting lightheaded.âÂ
âOh, no, Iâm fine actually. Which, hey, thanks for not making me faint and stuffâ thatâs a first for me in a very longââ Oh, oh, stops herself mid-compliment because oh, oh, maybe stood up too fast, because the room is going a little dark, a little sideways, cold prickle and nauseous andâ
âEasy, easy, Iâm gonna help you sit up, okay?â His voice is a little fuzzy around the edges. To be honest, heâs a little fuzzy around the edges, though she knows right away what happened. No, not her first rodeo, like she blinked and then came to in a strange sprawl on the end of the exam table. Marcus presents a dixie cup to her, holds it right in her line of sight because clearly, sheâs still a little slumped, still a little vacant, and a little warm, actually, which is new, and a little pleasant, and, oh, itâs because his arm is curled around her shoulders, firm palm held there to help her sit up. Oh. He smells like clorox and something woodsy, and it shouldnât, but it kind of works.Â
âYou feeling okay?â
âMmmhmm.â Sheâs afraid of what might come out of her mouth if she doesnât keep her lips pressed in a thin line, mmhmms again when he asks if she can sit up on her own, only a little despondent when he takes his arm away.Â
âSo, you really werenât kidding about that happening every time, huh?âÂ
âNope, wish I was. Itâsâ Iâm sorry.â
âSorry for what?â
âThat you had to deal with that.â
âYou donât have to be sorry about that, itâs part of the job. And actually, you fainted about as perfectly as I couldâve asked you to.â
âI didnât know you could faint like, well.âÂ
âRight before you went down you said Iâm gonna faint. Thatâs a lot better than getting no heads up and turning around to find my patient unresponsive on the ground.âÂ
âOh gee, I bet you say that to all your patients.â Lord, if there was ever a time to put her out of her misery itâd be now. She probably still looks green from her little trip to outer space but sure, flirt with Marcus, handsome nurse Marcus who just watched you absolutely eat it. Kick your feet and bat your eyelashes while youâre at it.Â
âI take it youâre feeling better then? Are you okay to walk out to the front desk?â And the rest is, mercifully, easy. He walks her to the front desk, squeezes her shoulder and gives her a good job today that she likes a little too much. She makes a mental note to herself to never come back to this clinic for any future bloodwork, lest she make a fool of herself all over again in front of a man who, with any luck, she will never see again.Â
âŠ
âYes, this is she speaking.â This is she speaking in the middle of the cereal aisle with a half-filled grocery basket at her feet. She sets her gaze on a hyper-realized image of a granola cluster (now with real strawberries!) while the woman on the other end of the phone tells her that her lab results came in and were sent over to her doctor.Â
âOh, great, thank you for letting me know. Do you knowâ did things look okay?âÂ
âWe donât interpret the results, maâam. Your doctor will go over that with you.â She doesnât quite catch that, doesnât catch the womanâs maâam? either, a little preoccupied with staring down the aisle, because is that? Is he? He looks good out of the scrubs.Â
âMaâam?â
âSorry, no, um, of course. Thanks again.â If the woman had anything else to tell her, itâs a little too late for it, already hung up, and sheâs trying to decide if she wants him to see her, or if fleeing immediately is the best course of action. He probably wouldnât even recognize her, she thinks. Itâs been a couple of weeks since the whole ordeal. And actually, sheâd prefer if he didnât recognize her. Oh yeah, the one who, well, ate it. But it seems the choice has already been made for her, because he saw her, walking down the aisle toward her, with his chin tilted down and part of a smile like he isnât sure, but heâs pretty sure. He says her name like a question. Guilty as charged.
âMarcus, right?â Like she forgot his name, ha. His smile stretches, a little brighter, palm to the nape of his neck, and while she got the golden retriever part wrong, she totally clocked the rest, watch on his wrist and nice-looking athletic shorts and just-right-tight t-shirt with the little swoosh on the chest. She thinks his hair might even be a little sweat-damp, curled ends nearly getting in his eyes. In other words, sheâs a goner.Â
âHow have you been since weâ you, wellââ
âSince I passed out on you?â Yeah, that, he laughs out and yeah, she likes him, sue her.Â
âJust for the record, I believe it was you who said I passed out perfectly, so.â Shrug, so, he takes a step closer, leans in a little like heâs going to tell her a secret. In the cereal aisle, of all places.Â
âJust for the record, I really donât say that to all my patients.â
âNo?â
âNope, just the nervous, pretty ones.â
âI was not nervous.â
âYou werenât?â
âNope.â
âAre you just gonna blow past the other thing?â
âWhat thing?â
âThe pretty thing.â
âYep.â Something a little giddy, like being back in high school, shared, shit-eating and smug grins. He shakes his head and she rolls her lips back in her mouth to stop her smile from getting any cheesier.Â
âSo, you do live around here then?âÂ
âMm, yeah, I do. And so do you?â
âI do.â
âNice, nice.â
âLovely weather weâre having.â
âWow.âÂ
âWhat? Iâm making conversation.â
âYouâre still not very good at it.â
âIâll keep working on it for you.â
âSure, okay. What kind of cereal do you get?â
âWhat kind do you think I get?â
âYou look like a Kashi guy, if Iâm honest.â
âSomehow I feel insulted.â
âWell.â
âYouâre not even right either.âÂ
âNo? What do you get then?â He just smiles, steps away and reaches up to the top of the shelf and she is very grateful to General Mills for being located on the top shelf because his shirt rides up just enough to see a bare hip. In cheerios we trust.Â
âApple cinnamon, seriously?â
âWhat? Itâs a classic.â
âActually, you know what, that tracks.âÂ
âWhat do you get?â She waggles her basket in front of him in response, goods already procured.Â
âPeanut butter chex, respectable choice.â
âThank you, thank you.âÂ
âYou know, Iâd say weâre pretty good at this conversation thing.â
âYeah, weâre not bad.â
âDo you want to do this again sometime? Not in the cereal aisle?â
âWhat, you mean like in the produce section?â He smiles at that, rolls his eyes, his basket lightly bonking against hers.Â
âI was thinking more like dinner, or drinks if thatâs your thing?âÂ
âI might be free on Saturday.â
âI might also be free on Saturday.âÂ
âWell, sounds like weâre both free on Saturday.â
âCan I get your number?â His lockscreen is a picture of a dog. Lucille, he tells her, before she was very old and very deaf. She canât help how big her smile gets at that.Â
âText me, and weâll do this whole conversation thing again.â I will, he says, phone tucked back into his pocket, though he seems to think twice before asking her can I see something really quick. Not entirely sure what he means when she nods, but then his hand sort of hovers over her forearm, may I? He really does have nice hands, she doesnât think twice about nodding again.Â
âOh yeah, we didnât have to use your hand. I could have totally gotten it from here.â His hand curled around her elbow and his thumb lightly pressing into what she can only assume is a vein, and he says it so earnestly that she canât help the incredulous laugh that rises up in her chest.Â
âReally? Youâre still stuck on that, huh?â He smiles something sheepish, pad of his thumb rubbing an apology into her skin before pulling away. She didnât really want him to pull away.
âSorry, occupational hazard, I guess.âÂ
âKinda weird, you know.â
âDid I just ruin this whole thing?â
âMmm, no, I kinda like it.â
âSo, Saturday?â
âLooking forward to it, Marcus.âÂ
#marcus pike#marcus pike fanfiction#pedro pascal fanfiction#pedro pascal#marcus pike fluff#marcus pike fic#marcus pike au#marcus pike angst#marcus pike x reader#marcus pike x you
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MARCUS PIKE
â°ââ€18+ none of these stories belong to me! this is a masterlist of all marcus pike stories iâve read and reblogged! just thought it would be nice to have them all in one spot! (if your fic is on here and you wish not to be, please let me know!) some will have summaries if provided <3
MASTERLIST âą PEDRO PASCAL CHARACTERS âą 07/07/24
@lionlena â° if teresa tried to get marcus back after year
@absurdthirst and @storiesofthefandomlovers â° franciscoâs wife You are Francisco Moralesâ ex wife, now dating Marcus Pike after your divorce. Everything is perfect until Frankie unexpectedly comes back into the picture and Marcus has strong feelings on how to keep you. â° sugar, sugar Tired of being alone, Marcus gets talked into signing up for a Sugar Daddy website in order to find some companionship. You are the one he chooses and it sparks a fun, flirty time for both of you. Ⱐlove in an elevator Meeting his new neighbor in the elevator every morning before work has become common and flirty. What will happen when you get stuck in there together
@qveerthe0ry â° your ride, best trip you sleep with your boyfriend marcus for the first time
@psychedelic-ink â° in your hands when you start to go out with Marcus, you're aware he's heartbroken due to his relationship before you. Knowing this you want to go slow and since he's your boss, the two of you keep the relationship a secret. But your hopes for a slow romance is thrown out the window when you accidentally say something that shocks the both of you.
@undercoverpena â° can you ever really know? marcus hadnât intended to meet someone, never mind begin seeing them.
@frenchiereading â° secret message Marcus has a plan. For it to work, he'd very much like you to get to the bottom of your morning coffee. But life keeps getting in the way.
@beefrobeefcal â° tommy millerâs stall
#marcus pike#marcus pike x reader#marcus pike angst#marcus pike fluff#marcus pike smut#marcus pike imagine#marcus pike x you#the mentalist#the mentalist x reader
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In the mood for Marcus pike or Javi Peña 𫣠perhaps friends/partners to lovers or fwb (up to you) But, please I need a happy ending today.
Thank you comadre đ«¶đ„°
glitch
pairing: marcus pike x f!reader
rating: F (fluff, mentions of hookups, two idiots in love)
word count: 1.2k
How many times did you have to put yourself through this kind of shit before you finally grew wise enough to see yourself out before your heart got torn to shreds?
Marcus was only supposed to be a source of relief, no strings attached, no complications. What was only meant to be a one time thing all too quickly snowballed into a I-need-you-every-night thing, his apartment becoming more of a home to you in the last three months than your own. Still, no matter how many nights spent beside him, the fear of growing too attachedâof caring about him beyond the point of rescueâprevented you from staying the entire night.
Every morning around 4 a.m., right before the sun had started to rise over the horizon, you carried yourself out of his bed, tiptoeing your way through his apartment until you had snuck out to the safety of your own conveniently down the hall. Marcus pretended not to notice or care, greeting you each morning in the office with a subtle nod that was casual enough to not arouse any suspicion from your coworkers, though it lit flames of desperation inside of you.
You yearned for more from him, your hands itching every time he was near, your eyes searching for him in every room you found yourself in. Youâd never longed to touch someone so much, especially considering how well acquainted you were with nearly every inch of his golden, smooth skin. It was completely backwards and yet you knew it was the safest thing for you.
To let him in would just give him the opportunity to let you down, and you couldnât risk that again. Not with Marcus, at least.
âHey,â his voice was low and tone to the point as he greeted you at your desk, tapping the manilla folders in his hand against the wood while avoiding your eyes. You stared up at him from your seat, drunk off his proximity and filled to the throat with nerves.
âHey,â you responded in a soft voice, too anxious to speak any firmer.
âYou left earlier than usual this morning,â he noted, finally bringing his wandering eyes back to yours. You gave him a shocked look, eyes wide as though you were a child whoâd just been caught misbehaving. âThought you didnât leave until four.â
âYeah, uh,â your eyes turned to the papers spread out on your desk, your fingers bending the corners into unnecessary rabbit ears just to keep them busy. âI donât know.â
âYou know you could stay the whole night one of these days,â he offered, one corner of his mouth curling up just a bit as you lifted your eyes back to his. âPromise my morning breath isnât that bad.â
You chuckled, shaking your head and exhaling as you nodded in acknowledgement.
âSeriously,â he tried again after being met with your pitiful response. âWhy are you always leaving? Did I say something to make you think I didnât want you aroundââ
âNo,â you assured, your eyes flickering over to where a coworker stood by the copier, not-so-subtly eavesdropping on your conversation. âWe can talk about it later on.â
âAlrightâŠâ he tapped the folder again as he lifted himself off the corner of your desk where heâd been perched. âJustâŠcome by whenever.â
âOkay.â You watched him walk away a bit defeated, a hope you resented brewing in your chest at the thought of him potentially wanting more from you. There wasnât a question of you being willing to give yourself over to himâit was what youâd spent every day of the last three months longing for. The question was whether or not you thought you could survive the loss if he woke up one day and decided he was done with you like so many of these friends-with-benefits relationships had gone before.
âKnock, knock,â you let yourself into his apartment like so many evenings before, Marcus having given you direct permission to come over whenever about a month in after youâd earned his trust.
The smell of steak searing on a pan and boiling potatoes caught you by surprise. Marcus had told you he knew how to cook once, though you always doubted the truth in his confidence, but youâd never once seen him make even a sandwich before.
âHey,â he greeted with a rare dimpled half-grin as you made your way up the three steps from his living room to his kitchen. âMaking some dinner, should be done soon.â
âWhatâs the special occasion?â You let out an impressed chuckle as he turned around to grab a pre-poured wine glass from the countertop beside him, handing it over to you. âIf I was a romantic, I would think this was a date.â
Hiding behind the mask of a cold-hearted woman again.
âJust sorta realized Iâve been sleeping with you for three months and yet you and I have never had dinner,â he shrugged. âThought I should fix that.â
âWell,â you blushed, flustered by the sentiment. You sat yourself on top of the counter, unsure of what to say or do to prevent yourself from slipping too far into this delusional hope you felt pooling.
âI gotta know,â he turned to you with an almost amused smirk as he flipped the steaks in the cast iron pan over, the sear on them perfect. âHow do you keep shit so separated?â
âWhat do you mean?â you chuckled, sipping your wine in hopes of easing the flipping in your stomach.
âI donât know, I justâŠâ he laughed at himself, shaking his head. âI thought I was going to be good at this whole casual hookup thing, but itâs tooâŠblurry for me.â
âOh,â you swallowed, the hope inside you being drowned by worry that he was about to end things for good. âSoâŠyouâre making me a farewell dinner.â
âOr,â he tilted his head and gave you a bashful smile as he carried the pot of potatoes over to the sink.
âOrâŠâ you urged him on, not wanting to be the one to take the next step. Marcus looked hesitant as he set the pot down on the counter, wiping his hands on a cloth before standing between your legs, his hands on your hips.
âOr we could maybe try to do this for real?â Marcusâs eyes searched yours frantically, the same fear of rejection youâd been feeling for the last few months clear in his eyes for the first time. You cracked a smile, unsure of what else do do, and placed your hand on his cheek.
âIâmâŠscared of it ending badly and me losing you,â you admitted, running your thumb over his cheekbone. Marcus shook his head and turned his face so that he was kissing your palm.
âIâve wanted more from you since day one,â he husked. âThis isnât something I just decided on without careful consideration, baby.â
You melted at the pet name and his smile grew wider, aware of the effect it had on you.
âIâve wanted more for a long time too,â you confessed with a shy smile. âJust too used to being burned to make the first move.â
âWell,â he leaned in, pressing his lips to your jaw. âI donât mind being the one to take the leap as long as I know youâre right behind me.â
You giggled as his beard tickled your skin, your head nodding. âYeah. Iâm right behind you, Marcus.â
âGood,â he pulled back and chuckled, gesturing at the meal he was cooking. âI donât think Iâd be able to eat steak again if this went the other way.â
#pedro pascal#pedro pascal fic#pedro pascal fanfiction#pedro pascal fluff#marcus pike x y/n#marcus pike x you#marcus pike fanfiction#marcus pike angst#marcus pike fluff#marcus pike x reader#marcus pike
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Do It Yourself
Better Masterlist
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5
Part 6
Prequel can be read as a stand alone.
Fine Part 1
Part 2
Product Testing
#bolivjenta masterlist#marcus pike#marcus pike smut#marcus pike angst#marcus pike fluff#marcus pike x f!reader#pedro pascal character fanfiction
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New beginnings | joel miller x f!reader, 7.8k
Summary: What happens when you run into that handsome stranger from the bar at Trishâs house? Where do the two of you stand two years after this unexpected encounter?
Warnings: 18+ MDNI, some back and forth on the timeline, mutual pinning, light angst, slow-burn, a smidgen of fluff, cursing, Joel being kind of a prick, Joel being an idiot, insecurities, let me know if I missed anything!
A/N: Part two of the I donât even know your name series and yes, I know itâs been a long time coming, sorry about that! Iâm confident (well, arenât you a bold one?) that the third part will be coming much, much sooner! Thank you for taking the time to read anything I write! Love you all!
Dividers by @strangergraphics
Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist
previous | next
BEFORE
You know that warmth. You remember it. His warmth. His large, calloused hand completely encircles yours as you formally introduce yourselves. If his reflexes werenât fast enough, youâd still be staring at him, unable to believe heâs standing right before you.
The storm of all those memories overwhelmed you and Joel realized that, unlike the rest of your company who continued to stand behind your back in blissful ignorance. Your mind had become detached from your body, which seemed to make decisions of its own; you were ready to do anything at this moment.
If he chose to show his hand and acknowledge you, you would follow his lead. If -by some miracle- he chose to lean in and kiss you, you would reciprocate. If he chose to pretend he didnât know you, you would put up with it. You would do anything to be good for him, no common sense left in your dazed mind. But his face is serious and his warm, dry hand is firmly on yours, squeezing it lightly, in a silent form of communication, I know; itâs ok; get a grip; what the fuck. He doesnât let go of your hand, acting as an anchor, until you decide you feel grounded enough to handle the situation. Itâs at that moment that you can tell heâs waitinâ for you to be in control of the narrative. Whatever you say, goes.
You take a deep breath and tell him your name, as you finally release your hand from his and move aside to let him enter the house. The muscles between his eyebrows and around his mouth twitch imperceptibly, almost in disappointment, you think. His scent as he passes by you, hits your nostrils and your memories flood back into your mind, even stronger than before. Your body tenses and you feel your nipples tighten against the fabric of your bra. You begin to wonder how youâre gonna make it through the night.
You all move into the living room while dinner is being prepared, except for Trish who excuses herself to the kitchen. Tommy sits on the couch next to you while Joel is standing in front of the window with his arms crossed over his chest and Sarah is relaxing in her favorite spot, on some big fluffy cushions randomly scattered on the floor next to the fireplace, scrolling through her phone.
âTrish, do you need a hand?â you try to keep your voice steady, although you desperately need an excuse to leave the room. No such luck. âNo babeâ, comes the wrong answer, âI got it, you chill and have fun!â Why she has to be such a good friend is beyond you. You smile awkwardly and look everywhere but in Joelâs direction. Tommy puts you all out of your misery by asking you about your relationship with Trish.
âOh, weâve been best friends for a long time, done pretty much everything together,â you explain, deliberately raising your voice for the last part, âitâs starting to get unhealthy if you ask me,â you look towards the kitchen entrance, waiting for her reaction. âYouâre not moving outta here any time soon, missy, so stop whining!â comes the reply from the kitchen. You grin as Tommy and Sarah laugh. Joel just stares at you with a scowl on his face.
âAre you staying long?â Tommy continues.
âTommy.â Joel warns him.
âIâm just making conversation sunshine, âmnot being nosy!â
âItâs ok, really, no problem at all.â you intervene, feeling sorry for Tommy, still avoiding looking directly at Joel. âIâll be out of her hair, as soon as I find a place to move to..â
âNo, you wonât!â Trish protests. âYes, I will!â you deadpan, âI told you it was getting unhealthy.â, you wink at Tommy before you could stop yourself. Why the hell did you wink at him? You need to calm down before you do something stupid. Joelâs fingers tighten, clutching his arms tighter to his chest. Shit, you donât think straight when youâre stressed. Tommy seems to like it, though.
âMaybe we could help youâ, Tommy offers, âwe see lots of places âcause of our job, we could keep you in mind if something good comes up.â
âTommy.â Joel drags his brotherâs name across his tongue as a warning. You look at him quizzically for the first time since your handshake, wondering what they do for a living. Fortunately, you work up the courage to ask Joel directly, before Tommy has time to protest to his brother again.
âIâm a contractorâ Joel informs you with the slightest hint of annoyance, as if he was reluctant to share this mundane information, âand Tommy works with me.â
âOh, thatâs cool!â, you raise your eyebrows in admiration, your eyes brightening. He takes his eyes off you and you wither inside.
âWell, never heard that one before. Joel is cool.â Tommy says in mocking surprise, giggling. You look flustered and Joel looks annoyed. âShe didnât say I was cool.â he frowns at his brother, âI know my job is far from fancy, you donât have to just say that.â he turns his reply to you, displeased with your comment.
God, you feel like a little child in his presence, he canât just chastise you like that, you have two kids of your own, youâre an adult, for Christâs sake. âI know Iâm not,â you say defensively and you start to get irritated. This is how the night is going to unravel? âI mean it. I have always admired people who can build and repair things with their own hands. Three pairs of eyes are now looking at you, all of them quite surprised.
Joel has absolutely no confidence in himself to start a conversation with you right now, but his curiosity gets the better of him. So, âHow so?â is the next thing that comes out of his mouth.
Your eyes widen slightly in startlement at his sudden elaboration, you hadnât expected him to continue the conversation. âUh,â you sigh, raising your brows in deep thought and shaking your head slightly, âmaybe it has something to do with my dad, he was always good at fixing things. I donât know, it made me feel safe, taken care of. Still does, even the thought of it. I always thought that if the world ever came to an end, your kind would be the ones to survive.â you shrug, unable to look Joel in the eye and fidgeting with your fingers on your lap, the answer more intimate than you intend it to be. But you give it anyway, for him.
You want him to know that you would never lie or make fun of him. That night, however indifferent it was to him, made him indelibly etched in your memory. And even though your interaction was so brief, one night out of the thousands in your life, it made you feel something for him. Childish as it may sound, you felt he deserved your respect in some way.
Thereâs a momentâs silence in the room, Joel staring down at his feet, not wanting to look emotional. Taken care of. He canât get the words out of his head; itâs what he felt for you that night, what he wanted to offer you before his chance was torn apart by the fucking knoc-
âOur kind?â Tommy intervenes once more.
âYeah,â you try not to blush, but you can feel the heat in your cheeks, âyou know, resourceful, competent, reliable.â Sarah tries to hide her grin behind her mobile phone, sneaking glances in Joelâs direction, little devil, while Tommy looks so pleased with your perception of their profession.
âThen you should definitely keep us close, take full advantage of us,â Tommy fills the silence, now his turn to wink at you, oh god, what a mess, âIâm in the same business, too, like Joel said.â Subtle. âWeâd be more than happy to help darlinâ, right Joel?â he turns to look at his older, brooding brother. Joel seems lost in thought or uninterested in answering. âRight?â he presses eagerly. Joel slowly raises his head, looks deep into your eyes and says nothing more than âRightâ in a deep drawl of a voice. You feel the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. He makes you feel so small but you feel a glob of arousal pooling on your underwear, making you wonder what the hell is wrong with you.
Tommy turns to you expectantly, his eyes shining under the lights in the room.
âMaybe I intend to.â, you smile softly, glancing briefly at Joel before turning your eyes back to Tommy. Joelâs body stiffens, giving you the impression heâs trying to hold something back.
âIs it something particular youâre interested in, so we know what weâre looking for?â To your and Joelâs dismay, Tommy doesnât let up. Your eyes turn briefly to Joel for help, but he looks down again, his arms still stiff across his chest, as if they had a mind of their own and were capable of murder if he let them go at his sides.
âUuuuh,â you laugh nervously, âanything will do considering my situation, I canât really be picky.â
âWhatâs bothering you, sweetheart?â Tommy frowns worriedly. Joel stiffens at the sound of the endearment.
Where do you start with whatâs going on in your life right now? Only one person -apart from Trish- seems to know and he doesnât look very happy at the moment. âWell, Tommy, Iâve two kids, two little girls and I canât find a place that is decent enough, at a good price and owned by someone who doesnât mind renting their property to a single mom.â Tommyâs brows are raised so high in shock, they would touch his hairline if they could. âGoddamn, how the hell did that happen?â
âHow did what happen?â you ask confused. âYou,â he says, his eyes roaming all over you in a definitively not subtle way, âbeing a single mom with two kids. What the hell did he d-â
âTommy.â Joelâs tone is more raised this time, shooting daggers at his brother, warning him again to drop it. âJesus fuckinâ Christâ Joel mutters through his teet, a look of disbelief on his face at his brotherâs lack of discretion and if you werenât already looking at him, you wouldnât have heard it.
Trish comes out of the kitchen before you or Tommy can react.
âOk guys, letâs move it to the dining table.â she clasps her hands together, âDinner will be ready in ten!â
While everyoneâs attention is focused on Trish, including yours, Joelâs eyes penetrate you in a silent command to look at him. You feel him staring at you and you turn your attention to him. He continues to stare at you as he asks Trish if she has any tools to fix her bathroom cabinet, since Tommy forgot the one thing he was supposed to remember. He takes his eyes off you as the others laugh at his accusation and turn to look at him.
âYeah, I think I have a small toolbox in the supply closet upstairs, next to the bathroom. I donât remember exac-â
âThatâs ok Trish, Iâm going to check on the girls anyway, Iâll help Joel look for it.â you take the opportunity to excuse yourself.
You stand up carefully, feeling your legs go numb and praying you donât trip and make a fool of yourself in front of everyone. Joel follows behind you as you go up the stairs. You can feel the tension between you, his body heat almost warming your back. He canât be that close though, can h-
As soon as you reach the door to the bathroom, he opens it in a hurry and pushes you in, grabbing hold of your arm as he follows suit. You gasp at his gesture and turn to face him. His eyes bore into yours, searching for something. His arms are clenched in fists at his side, giving you the impression heâs trying to control himself.
Youâre both silent, despite a vocabulary so vast, none of the words seem to fit your thoughts and emotions. âYouâre OK.â He speaks first. Itâs not a question, not a reassurance. Itâs a statement of fact. You look confused, trying to work out where he is going with this. He thought you would break down at the sight of him? Well, he wasnât wrong, but he didnât need to know. âOf course I am, why wouldnât I be?â It comes out harsher than you intended.
You see in real time a series of thoughts crossing his eyes, something fragile and vulnerable in the air. But it passes as quickly as it came.
âNothinâ, nothinâ.â, he shakes his head and closes his eyes, trying to clear his mind. He opens his eyes with a sigh and looks at you. You stare at each other for a good minute and then you both realize that you are together again, the two of you, in a small bathroom, behind a closed door. Your brain is blank, the only thought crossing it is to say something, say something, say something, but he beats you to it. âItâs best if we donât tell them we know each other.â Is he serious right now? From all the things he could have said, this is what he came up with? You bite the inside of your cheek in frustration, âWell, I think weâre already past that, that firm handshake at the front door made that quite clear.â
âYou played along, though. So, donât go around accusing m-â
âHey, hey, Iâm not accusing you of anything, where is this even coming from?â you frown in confusion. He wanted you to admit you knew him in front of everyone? In front of his daughter? âHey, guys, how do you know each other?â âOh, we almost fucked in a bar bathroom!â. That would have gone well.
âYeah, Iâm just sayinâ-â
âLook, Joel, thereâs nothing to say. Itâs not like I was going to shout it over the rooftops anyway.â
âWhat the hellâs that supposed to mean?â, he looks offended for some reason.
âMeans that thereâs nothing to say.â you insist sternly. âLiterally.â
He laughs nervously, obviously irritated. You donât understand why, you thought you were making his life easier. What does he want from you? âRight, right,â is all he gives you, nodding his head a few times. You raise your hands in resignation, your eyebrows raised to your forehead, your mouth open, not knowing how to navigate the situation.
âWhat is your problem, what do you want me to say? You pretended not to know me when you saw me and you just told me, like 30 seconds ago, not to mention anything to anyone! I think Iâm doing all right so far, donât you? How am I pissing you of exactly?â your anger makes you raise your voice slightly.
Heâs all over you in a second, pinning you between his body and the bathroom door. âKeep your goddamn voice down.â he grits through his teeth, his one hand a clenched fist at his side, the other next to your head, palm flat on the door. The sudden invasion of his scent in your nostrils and the fan of his breath on your lips is all you can register, but his words come back to you and your anger boils in your gut.
âWatch your tone with me, Iâm not some child you can intimidate.â you shoot back. That seems to snap him out of his headspace and he backs away slightly. He exhales loudly from his nose and rests his forehead on his outstretched arm, the other now resting on his hip. His unruly locks are so close to your face that you can practically smell his shampoo. You clench your fist to resist running your fingers through his soft hair. âShit,â he mumbles through closed eyes, he really doesnât seem to be able to keep his eyes on you long enough, ââmsorryâ.
He smells so good, so delicious, that it takes every ounce of strength you have not to wrap your hands around his broad torso. You want this moment to yourself, to wrap your arms around him and comfort him, to plant kisses all over his face, to nuzzle your forehead where his thick neck meets his shoulder, to breathe him in. The corded muscles bulging under his tanned skin make you salivate. This guy is pissing you off and all you can think of is how youâd die to touch him. Great. You rest your head on the door behind you, close your eyes and grit your teeth, trying to regulate your breathing.
ââMsorryâ he mutters again, shaking his head. He looks so worried and uncomfortable, you decide to give him another chance. Maybe heâs confused, too. You both had to make a call at such a short notice, with his whole family looking at both of you expectantly to introduce yourselves. It was the logical thing to do. Wasnât it?
Maybe heâs afraid youâd expose your naughty deeds in front of his daughter. After all, no parent wants their child to know that theyâve almost had sex with a stranger in a bar. You totally understand. And to be honest, you did leave him all hot and bothered back in that bathroom and run the opposite way, so why would he want to be in the same room with you? He probably feels insulted by your reaction that night.
Or maybe- how did you not think of this before? Maybe he has a wife. But heâs not wearing a ring. Not that it matters, lots of people take their rings off at some point. Maybe he has a girlfriend. Wouldnât she be here with them for dinner if that was the case? With him? He doesnât look the type, either. The cheating one. But you hardly know him, you donât really know much about him beyond what he told you about his past that night.
âJoel.â you call his name looking at him through your lashes, your head still resting on the door.
âHmâ he hums, still in the same position.
âJoel, hey.â you try to get his attention again, this time lifting your head to look straight at him, a gentle smile on your face.
His eyes finally meet yours in a subtle, tired hey, the corners of his mouth turning up slightly.
You hold each otherâs gaze taking each other in, and you both laugh softly in a quiet understanding. But this feels so warm, so soft and tender, is he really that angry with you? He must be, otherwise why the tension? You should try and put him at ease.
âLook, I understand this is awkward and unexpected; I do. But weâre fine; weâre gonna be fine, Joel.â Damn, the sound of his name in your mouth. âI wonât say anything, really, donât worry. Weâll have a nice meal, weâll make the typical minimum small talk and when this night is over weâll be out of each otherâs hair, you wonât have to see me again if I can help it, I donât mean any trouble, seriously.â
And there it is again, the disappointment. âYeah, no, I know. Sorry I snapped at you.â
Joel looks as if heâs going to say something more, but at the last moment he changes his mind.
You nod in acceptance of his apology. âLet me hand you that toolbox, before they start wondering whatâs taking us so long, hm?â
âSure.â
âDo you need any help?â
âNo, itâs fine.â
âOk, Iâm gonna check on the girls and then head downstairs.â
Joel nods as he takes the toolbox from you, careful not to touch you and crouches down on his knees to inspect the damage to the cabinet. You glance in his direction one last time, admiring his wide, strong form kneeling on the floor and then close the door behind you quietly.
âFuck.â you both exhale on either side of the door.
Two rotations of the earth around the sun had passed and Joel had become a constant in your life. He came and went like the seasons, with an orbit of his own.
Winter.
His orbit was longer and colder. The distance between you grew, more so emotionally, as if something was holding him back. The domesticity of it all was too much for him, scratching at old wounds he tried too hard to keep buried. He always cared, always kept an eye on you, but from a safe distance.
Like the time you came home late from work and cursed yourself for not cooking dinner in advance. You were starving, but the thought of making something to eat seemed like too much trouble; you were exhausted. Thank goodness the girls had their dinner ready, all you had to do was heat it up. Two minutes after you let yourself in, the doorbell rang. You rushed out of the bathroom and opened the door to a takeaway, its temperature indicating that it had just been delivered to your doorstep. You looked around but saw no one. You were pretty sure it was a mistake, but then your phone vibrated,
Eat, while itâs hot.
Did you leave these outside?
Yes.
Why?
Trish told me you were caught up at work, thought Iâd save you some time.
You just kept staring at the screen, your heart warm but your mind confused. A second text came while you debated what to answer him.
Need to take better care of yourself.
No, why âd you leave?
Summer.
His orbit was shorter and warmer, like a pleasant summer breeze. He was around more, more involved in your life.
Like the time he was in on your house hunting trip.
Like when he talked you into buying a house and not renting because he found one for you that was beautiful and ideal and close to Trishâs so you wouldnât be alone and your daughters would love it and it was a family house. Yes, the house was a ruin. OK, maybe not a ruin, but really old. It was beautiful, but it had definitely seen better days. It needed a lot of renovation.
âJoel, I canât afford this.â you said as you looked around, almost pained to have to say no. It was a really lovely house.
âListen to me-â Joel tried to make his point but you interrupted him anyway.
âI am listening to you, thatâs how you convinced me to consider buying a house instead of renting an apartment. But if I do, Iâll use up all my savings, I canât afford a renovation of this magnitude,â you continued, looking around the house, moving from room to room, imagining how you would have decorated it if it was yours.
âIâm gonna help you with that.â he said bashfully.
âHow are you going to do that, Joel?â you rolled your eyes at him.
âDo you remember what I do for a living?â Joel teased you and you glared at him.
âIâm not sure, I think you mentioned something about a contracting bussiness?â you mimicked him. âJoel, Iâm serious. Of course I would choose you and Tommy if i could afford it.â you said in despair, eyes wide, hands in the air as if youâre pleading with him. Which you were.
âIâll do it in my spare time.â he suggested, looking down at his feet, avoiding eye contact and hugging his chest with his arms, as if trying to protect himself from the vulnerable position he had put himself in.
It took you a minute to register what he was implying. Your jaw dropped, unsure of what to say when you did. Your heart ached with warmth and your breath caught in your chest. It was too much.
âThereâs no way Iâm accepting this, you know that.â
âI really donât min-â
âAbsolutely not, not in a million years.â
âGoddamn, youâre stubborn!â he snapped, not used to not getting his way. Take the fuckinâ help, goddamn it. Your eyes looked glazed, you never had the ability to deal well with people snapping at you quite well. Especially people you cared about. Joel felt your discomfort and immediately regretted his temper. Soft things needed gentle handling. And you were soft. So soft for this world. For him.
He stepped closer to you and engulfed your hands in his with a deep sigh. âLook, Iâve done the calculation. This is the best deal you can get. The price of the house is fair. In fact, between you and me, itâs low. And Iâve already worked out what needs to be fixed.â He paused, breathing in and exhaling a little harder. âI want to do this. For y- for the girlsâ, he stuttered and you looked down to where your hands met. These hands. His hands. Big and warm and capable. Capable of renovating your house, capable of holding your hands in his, capable of taking you apart piece by piece. Were they capable of putting you back together again?
Your whole body tingled with another wave of warmth at his touch. But it was too much. It was always too much with him. The unbearable distance or the suffocating closeness. All because he wouldnât make up his damn mind. He couldnât do that to you. Give you a glimpse of affection and then pull away. Because you were sure he would eventually. As he had done so many times before. This time you had to protect yourself. So you pushed him away the only way you knew how.
You tore your hands from his tender grip as you attacked him in a raised tone pointing at him. âWe are not your responsibility!â You regretted it the moment you spat it out. You didnât have to be so harsh. So quick to anger. Please, please be angry with me. Scream at me. Turn your back and walk away. Make me feel like shit.
He looked at you in shock, his eyebrows raised, a hint of sadness on his face. And something else, more subtle. As if in understanding. As if he could hear your thoughts. You were not his to care for. You were not his to protect. âI know that.â he sighed, squeezing the back of his neck in embarrassment.
âJoel,-â you tried to take it back, there were not many things you hated more than what was happening right now. The fact that you couldnât take back what you had just said. You felt terrible.
âLook,â he interrupted you, raising his arms in resignation. âIâm just trying to help. You moved states alone with two kids, starting from scratch. I just thought maybe I could ease some of the burden. Itâs the decent thing to do.â
âJoel, you are cutting yourself short. This is beyond decent. Trish and you- and- and- Tommy and Sarah of course,â you mumbled embarrassingly, âyouâre all I have and you have supported me in more ways than I can count. Thatâs why I canât be a burden to you.â
âI didnât mean you were a burden.â
âNo, no, I know, this is not on you, this is me, I-â
His face was full of concern as he waited patiently for you to speak your mind.
âI donât want to be a burden. Or to feel like one. Even if I know-, I know Iâm not that to you. I know that. But just the thought of the possibility makes me freak out. Thatâs why I need to keep everything under control, because if I give it away, even a little, I donât know how I could ever repay this kindness. I donât even know if Iâm worthy. Iâm not-â your voice broke at this confession and you took a breath to recover, âmy life is not easy to navigate, I donât want anyone to stress over me.â
Joel seemed shocked for a moment, not believing what he was hearing. âYou think youâre not worthy of kindness? Thatâs very cruel coming from someone like you.â
âSomeone like me?â
âYeah, someone good and kind and caring.â
âYou must have me confused with someone else.â you joked, feeling uncomfortable at his praise.
âDarling, if I had known anyone else like you, I would have held on to them for dear life," he spat, before realizing what he had said. He laughed awkwardly, frowning at the slip of his tongue and looked around the room to avoid your gaze. Why donât you hold on to me, then? was all you could think of, but you didnât dare ask him. So you moved on, protecting the friendship.
âI just- Jesus, I donât know why Iâm telling you this,â you murmured through your teeth, âI was brought up to be strong, never to ask for help, otherwise it was considered a weakness. I learned to do everything myself. By the time my parents grew out of their own insecurities and urged me to be more open, more vocal, it was too late for me to change.â Why on earth are you telling him all this? Why did you mention your parents?
âSo, you do kindness, but you donât accept kindness.â Joel observed and you realized that you had never made that connection.
âI- I donât know how to receive it; what to do with it.â
In the end, he practically forced his help on you, bit by bit, one sweet word at a time, day by day, until the house was a home. Everywhere you looked you saw Joelâs efforts.
You saw the care with which he worked on this house as if it were his own. You heard his laughter as you forced him to take a break and shoved food into his mouth, knowing he hadnât eaten all day. Every step you took on the hardwood floors reminded you of his broad back as he knelt down to replace the old floor. Every shower you took was a painful reminder of his massive, veiny hands sweating as he reinstalled the hardware. Everything felt like Joel, even in his absence.
NOW
âWhat is this party for, again?â you call out from her bedroom as you apply your lipstick in front of her vanity mirror. You almost didnât come, but you knew sheâd drag your ass back to her place if you didnât.
âThis is fooor..â Trish replies from her en-suite bathroom as she searches for a good excuse, unable to find one. âYou know what, I donât need a reason to have a party! Think of it as a chance to see each other more!â
âTrish, we can do this without a million people around us and me leaving my kids with a babysitter.â you roll your eyes in fake exasperation.
âYour kids are gonna be just fine. They want you to have a good time.â
âTheyâre four and two years old, dude.â
âWell, in that case, they want you to find them a daddy.â
âOh my god, Trish! Seriously?â you snort at her comment.
âThatâs whatâs the partyâs all about! You finding yourself a daddy; if Iâm being honest-â
âPlease donât!â you beg her to stop.
â-you need it more than they do. That is so perfect! I actually have a couple of guys in mind and theyâre a bit older, just like you like âem-â
âWhat?â you swallow tightly and youâre glad she canât see your face right now. âWhat are you talking about?â
Trish pops her head through the door and wiggles her eyebrows, âTheyâre about Joelâs age, is what Iâm talking about.â You shake your head in denial, your eyes are closed in frustration. âTrish..â
âYeah, yeah, I know, thereâs nothing going on between you; thatâs why youâre both hot and flustered every time youâre in the same room.â Your shoulders slump down but you donât answer because this is getting old.
âWhat, nothing to say for yourself?â Trish weighs up your reaction and lack of response.
âFrankly, I donât know what else to say to you.â you shrug in defeat.
âFine, then find someone to fuck, tonight. That would clear up the air.. for all parties.â Thankfully, youâre saved by the bell, âJesus..â you mutter to yourself as she leaves you once again to open the door for the first guests.
The party is a success by Trishâs standards, as the house is overflowing with guests. Some of them you knew, most of them you didnât.
Joel is somewhere in the crowd, chatting to a couple of ladies who have trapped him between them, ogling him like vultures. You make it your mission to rescue him, judging by the desperate look on his face and the furtive glances he throws your way.
As you move to head to his direction, an arm gently encircles your elbow. You turn to see who it is, and are greeted by a stranger. Tall, broad, sweet brown all over his features. He exudes an earthy and secure aura.
âHi.â the stranger smiles warmly at you, looking deep into your eyes.
âUm,â you blush, why on earth are you blushing, âhi!â you say back. Original.
âIâm Marcus, a colleague of Trishâs.â
âOh, hi, nice to meet you!â you tell him your name and shake his hand.
âI knew I was right.â he says amusedly, as if talking to himself.
âAbout what?â
âTrish gave me your name and told me to come find you.â
âExcellent tracking skills, are you a detective or something?â, you tease him playfully.
âYeah, something like that..â
âOh- I-â the words catch on your tongue.
âBut I had a great lead, wasnât that hard, to be honest.â he adds.
âCan you share it with me, or youâll have to kill me if you tell me?â you joke. He was so easy to talk to.
Marcus tips his head back, laughing, âI wouldnât resort to such methods; let me buy you a drink and weâll call it even.â
You look down at your hands, your cheeks red from his attention, rolling the bottle of beer you are holding between your palms, too tightly.
âI mean, not right now; Iâm sure we could work something out if youâd indulge me.â he adds sheepishly, somehow sensing your train of thought.
God, heâs adorable and not too bad to look at. Actually, heâs quite handsome. âWell, Iâll have to see if your lead is worth my time first.â
Panic rushes through you as you realize the sound of what you said while trying to be funny, and you try to correct it quickly. âNot that- oh gosh-â you feel so embarrassed, but Marcus laughs heartily and shakes his head from side to side.
âShit, sorry, it was a joke, thatâs not the only reason I would go out with you-â Isnât it? What are you doing? What is he doing to you? Where is Joel? Shit, Joel.
You steal a glance in his direction and heâs already watching your interaction with Marcus, his face hard and unreadable.
âIsnât it?â Marcusâs voice draws your attention back to him, your eyelids flattering in confusion. He grins, pleased, but so sweet itâs impossible to roll your eyes at him. Your shyness pours through your body language, making Marcus want to comfort you.
âHey, hey, itâs cool, donât worry about it. I know it was a joke; I liked it.â he says honestly, âAnd even if that was the only reason Iâm sure by the end of the night you would have changed your mind.â he gives you a lopsided smile, but thereâs no smugness on his face.
When he starts to speak again, Trish interrupts, effectively shutting him down. âWhat took you so long, I thought you couldnât find her!â
Marcus smiles again, warmth and familiarity washing over you instantly, âOh, I found her, quite quickly.â his eyes twinkling.
Trish smirks as if sheâs realized something, âCome on, I need you outside.â, she grabs your arm and pulls you along, âIâm gonna steal her for a bit, sorry to interrupt.â
âItâs OK, Iâm confident I can find her again.â, Marcus winks at you and your heart skips a beat.
You start to walk away, but abruptly turn back, your curiosity overpowering you.
âNever told me about that lead.â you ask him, your eyes wide and wondering.
Marcus bites the inside of his cheek, looking briefly down and then meets your gaze with a hunger in his eyes. âOh, I had to find the most dazzling woman in the crowd.â, he shrugs as if it was the most self-evident fact in the world. âMission accomplished.â
You replayed your interaction with Marcus in your mind as you helped Trish light the lanterns on the porch. He had been so kind, direct and sweet, making you feel seen. What bothered you was your reaction. Your insecurity, your inability to believe that he was talking about you. The urge you had to fight when you thought of looking around the room to make sure he wasn't referring to someone else.
What bothered you most was that although it had been two years since you had separated from your husband, you had never felt insecure about yourself. He couldnât make you feel that way. Of course you doubted yourself at first, looking for your share of the blame, but his actions spoke louder than words, and you couldnât blame yourself for everything, even if you tried.
But Joel did. He made you feel insecure, vulnerable. With his mixed signals and his constant back and forth, he managed to drive you crazy. What did he want from you? Why couldnât he make up his mind? Why werenât you enough? Were you too much?
Maybe it wasnât just Joel. Maybe anyone in his position would have the same concerns. Perhaps Marcus would do the same if he found out about your family status. Where did that come from? You donât even know the guy, stop it.
âOK,â you hear Trish behind you, âall set, letâs get back inside.â
You nod, but as you turn to go into the house, Trish comes close, a mischievous look on her eyes and lips. âMaybe, uh..â and she pauses dramatically making you furrow your brow in puzzlement. âMaybe I was wrong about the age gap, huh?â
Oh, god.
âHeâs one of the good ones; I approve.â she winks at you and slaps you on the ass cheek, ushering you into the house while you roll your eyes the hardest you could manage.
âOk, now I need to know.â He laughs heartily, his eyes wrinkling, his whole face lighting up. It didnât happen very often. It made your heart swell that you were the one making it crinkle with laughter. You loved that face.
âWhat?â you reply, unsuccessfully fighting back a laugh, dragging out the vowel. You had had a few beers and were relaxed and comfortable around him. You were both standing near the stairs, giving yourselves a bit of privacy from the crowded party. You were still visible to everyone, but it was a little quieter than the constant buzz throughout the house.
âWell, youâre obviously mad at him-â Joel states matter-of-factly, as he leans his back against the wall behind him, but you interrupt before he can finish, âNo, Iâm not!â and slap your hand on the railing next to you for good measure.
âUh, uh, uh, none of that,â he looks at you mischievously, âbut you never say anything bad about him. So, which one was he?â
âWhat on earth do you mean, Joel?â and you half whimper his name, thanks to the alcohol in your system, making his cock twitch. God, the things he wants to do to you.
Joel inhales sharply, trying to keep his composure, because he really needs to know what kind of an idiot husband you had chosen to place by your side only to be betrayed; a side he would die to be by. If only he had been the right man for you.
âWhich half was he?â
You burst out laughing, finally figuring out what he means. Youâre impressed that he still remembers, although it makes sense since you sort of insulted him that night. You know you canât lie for shit, so you brace yourself, anticipating his reaction. You can almost see the face heâs going to make.
âActually..â you start, prolonging the suspense, not on purpose, but because you are choking on your own giggles. Itâs going to sound so pathetic, but for some reason you canât wait to tell him how youâve been deliberately putting yourself down for years. âYeah...?â His eyes are fixed on you, amused, but you can see the agony underneath.
âHe was both.â And you can barely contain your laughter, almost snorting.
He is still at first, as if some invisible remote control has paused the whole scene, waiting for the oh, Iâm kidding. When that moment passes, his eyebrows go up so high, his forehead fills with wrinkles. His jaw drops open and he actually looks shocked to the core, almost frightened.
âBoth? BOTH?â he practically hovers over you in frustration. âSo, emotionally unavailable and bad sex.â he says again, incredulous that someone like you would ever choose someone like your ex.
âJoel!â you chastise him, slapping him on the shoulder, looking around you to see if anyone has overheard your conversation.
Joel fake hisses at your fake hit and taunts you with his laugh.
You shake your head dismissively, âWhat can I say? You know me, I donât go halfway, I go all the way.â you reply between laughs, pumping your fist in victory.
He shakes his head in mock despair, then looks down for a few seconds, as if heâs making his mind up for something and then up at you through his lashes. âOh, baby,â he sighs, âyou really need someone to take good care of youâ his voice drops, his eyes still holding the amusement but there is a hunger behind his words.
You inhale sharply and then hold your breath as your brain fantasizes about him taking good care of you, right now. You stare at each other for a long time, as if thereâs no one else around, and finally you break the silence. A slight anger begins to glimmer in your chest, but you try to push it down. âWell, no such luck on that front.â you drop the bait and see where it takes you.
He canât say things like that and expect you to do nothing. A small glimmer of hope tries to climb over the uneasy feeling inside you. It sinks its claws into your heart, scratching at the surface of your well-hidden desire. Maybe this time heâll take a chance on you. Maybe this time he will ask you. Maybe. You try to push that away as well.
âMaybe you should put yourself out there more.â There he is. Heâs pulling back, again. Itâs fucking exhausting. You know you should be more patient and see where this goes, but your anger is boiling fast, ready to pour out of every pore. He started it, so you might as well finish it.
âUnless, what I need is in here.â Please, please, donât make me regret this. Over and over, like a mantra.
He swallows so hard you can see his Adamâs apple bobbing, his knuckles turning white around his beer bottle. His eyes keep darting between yours, searching for something.
âPretty sure itâs not, if you know whatâs good for you.â Did he just say that? Your pulse rises and you hold back the tears that tend to gather so easily at your waterline. How could he say that to you? But you recover quickly, he wonât see another drop of tears from you. Not ever again.
âWhat, you donât like Marcus?â
âWho?â you see Joelâs body stiffen at the manâs name, his eyes frantically scanning yours for an answer and revenge never tasted better. You would say you were drunk on power if it werenât for the damn beers.
âMarcus, Trishâs colleague from work, she introduced us tonight- well- not exactly, but- anyway.â, you dismiss your own comment by waving your hand in the air. âMaybe youâre right. I should start giving people a chance. Maybe Iâve waited long enough.â Thereâs someone interested in you. Heâs interested in you and heâs shown it. You deserve to be happy. You deserve to feel the look of desire in someoneâs eyes. But youâd rather it was Joelâs.
Check mate. His move now.
âAre you sure you want to lead with Marcus?â His voice full of mockery. âYou donât even know the guy.â
âOh. So, let me get this straight.â you counter. âI should get myself out there and I should do it with someone I know. Let me think.â you take a deep breath and in that short time of in and out through your nose, you debate whether you should say it. Joel seems to catch up with what youâre thinking, raises his hand and purses his lips, but before he can speak-
Fuck it.
âAre you offering?â You ask playfully, with a saccharine smile. Sometimes you really wish you were not so direct. But you couldnât deny the sweet satisfaction of nailing him to the wall, when you saw the look of mortification on his face. The time for regret would come, but it was not right fuckinâ now.
Joel is speechless, his eyes widen and his mouth opens and closes without a sound. He clearly thought youâd back down. Maybe he thought you liked this dancing around. Maybe he thought he had more time on his hands. Or maybe he didnât expect you to finally confront him head-on. Still playful, but head-on.
He takes a deep breath and tries to compose himself. He starts to say something, but you donât catch it because out of the corner of your eye you see Marcus approaching you quickly. If a higher power was listening tonight, it was focusing on the wrong part of the story.
Just before he enters your personal space and you excuse yourself, you linger slowly over Joel, touching his waist with one hand. You feel the warmth of his skin through his shirt and under your palm. You take your eyes off his and look at his plush lips as your face comes dangerously close to his. Your lips brush the space between his earlobe and his neck and you painfully accept this is probably the most you will ever have of Joel Miller. His breath hitches at the feel of your soft lips and the puff of air as you whisper in his ear, âRelax Joel, I wasnât counting on you.â
That hurt.
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#pedro pascal#pedro pascal imagine#pedro pascal fandom#joel miller imagine#fanfic#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller fic#joel miller x reader#joel miller#joel miller the last of us#joel the last of us#joel miller tlou#joel miller x you#joel miller x female reader#joel miller x original character#marcus pike is that you?#joel miller x oc#joel x reader#joel tlou#joel miller fanfic#pedro pascal fanfic#pedro pascal fanfiction#pedro pascal characters#tlou joel#marcus pike being a charmer#joel miller angst#friends to lovers#friends to lovers joel miller#idekyn part two#idekyn
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LET'S WRITE SOME ANGST!
I'm new to the fic community here and had a lot of fun participating in my first writing challenge recently (shoutout to @studioghibelli for hosting), so I thought it'd be fun to whip up some moodboards myself and offer 'em to you fine folks as a way of saying hi :-)
I've made 14 moodboards with different Pedro characters, all of which will include an angsty quote & a song. You're welcome to put these fics in any AU or canon universe you like, but lots of the moodboards may encourage AUs if that's your jam ;-)
note: photos in these moodboards are just for vibes, and aren't intended to be prescriptive / representative of any characters in your piece đ
MASTERLIST
â Joel Miller: @ozarkthedog !
đ» Joel Miller: @studioghibelli - until then
đ§ Joel Miller: @evolnoomym - Bigger than the whole sky
đ° Javier Peña: @ovaryacted - COMPLICATED
đïž Javier Peña: @guiltyasdave !
đ° Javier Peña: @the-orange-tabby-cat - Dusk
đ Francisco Morales: @joelalorian - Beacon of Hope
đ©č Francisco Morales: @sizzlingcloudmentality !
â°ïž Din Djarin: @burntheedges - a home, with you
đȘŠ Jack Daniels: @fhatbhabiee - Cross from Live Oak
đ Marcus Pike: @thundermartini !
đ Oberyn Martell: @crowandmousewritingco - Death Row
đ° Oberyn Martell: @hidden-behind-the-fourth-wall - The guard till the end
đŻïž Javier Peña: @almostfoxglove - I'LL CARRY IT
âïž Din Djarin: @papurgaatika - My Pain Fits in the Palm of Your Freezing Hand
đ Marcus Pike: @bluestar22x - The Shot Not Taken
đĄïž Marcus Acacius: @sweetpascal - fates of two, entwined
rules below the cut!
TWO RULES:
1. đ You must incorporate the quote from your moodboard into your fic in some way, but however you want to is cool (dialogue, exposition, literal, thematically, figurative, etc etc) - songs don't need to be incorporated, they're just for fun! 2. đ You must tag me @almostfoxglove and use the hashtag #almostfoxgloveangstchallenge on your post :-) I wanna read what you write!!
#joel miller#javier pena#frankie morales#pedro pascal#fanfiction challenge#fanfiction moodboard#din djarin#oberyn martell#angst fanfiction#almostfoxglove#almostfoxgloveangstchallenge#pedro pascal fanfiction#javi gutiérrez#ezra prospect#marcus pike#tim rockford#jack daniels
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hi, this is a new writing blog for pedro pascal & his characters. I have many ideas of my own to post but I'm also accepting requests for scenarios, specific characters of his you'd like to see written or just anything really, even if it's just to talk so shoot me an ask :)<3
(yes the picture is a way to bring your attention to this post)
#pedro pascal#pedro pascal fic#pedro pascal imagine#pedro pascal smut#pedro pascal drabble#pedro pascal x reader#javier peña#joel miller#pedro pascal one shot#pedro pascal fanfiction#pedro pascal writing#pedro pascal angst#dave york#marcus pike#javi gutierrez#dieter bravo#lucien flores#oberyn martell#the mandalorian#din djarin#shane dio morrissey#narcos smut#tlou smut#the last of us smut#maxwell lord#pedro pascal x y/n#pedro pascal x you#pedro pascal headcanon#requests
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@secretelephanttattoo told me about this fic yesterday and I've now read it all in less than 24 hours. It's amazing! Absolutely so sweet and fluffy and a little bit sad but I loved the whole thing! (and the smut.... đ„”đ„”đ„” )
Read it!!!
Duality Masterlist
Marcus Pike x F! Reader.
You: a London-based owner of a bakery.
Him: an American FBI agent with a terrible relationship history and the most beautiful smile you have ever seen.
What could possibly go wrong?
Chapter One - Enough Said
Chapter Two - It Never Really Began
Chapter Three - In My Heart It Was So Real
Chapter Four - The Sea Wants To Take Me
Chapter Five - Your Triumphs And Your Charms
Chapter Six - Treat Her Kindly
Chapter Seven - Not For You, My Love
Chapter Eight - Why Are You On Your Own Tonight?
Chapter Nine - In Each Other's Arms
Chapter Ten - Love Is Natural And Real
Epilogue - In progress
Additional Duality ficlet for WriterWednesday on 28/7/21 here
Additional Duality ficlet for WriterWednesday on 25/8/21 here
Additional Duality ficlet for WriterWednesday on 15/9/21 here
Additional Duality ficlet for Day One of the 2021 Christmas Writing Challenge here
Additional Duality ficlet for Day Seven of the 2021 Christmas Writing Challenge here
Additional Duality ficlet for Day Nine of the 2021 Christmas Writing Challenge here
Additional Duality ficlet for Day Seventeen of the 2021 Christmas Writing Challenge here
Additional Duality ficlet for Day Twenty Eight of the 2021 Christmas Writing Challenge here
#duality#marcus pike angst#marcus pike fluff#marcus pike smut#marcus pike x you#marcus pike x reader#marcus pike x f! reader#marcus pike x female reader
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thunderstruck | marcus pike
Summary | You're scared of storms but it's okay, because Marcus always knows how to soothe you.
Pairing | Marcus Pike x F!Reader
Word Count | 1.4K
Warnings | Explicit - descriptions of thunderstorms, softness/fluff, rain, established relationship, oral sex (f receiving), dirty talk, our boy Marcus just being Marcus. No use of y/n.
Authors Note | This is my contribution to @undercoverpena's April Showers Challenge. It's a blessing that I got anything out because this brief gave me so many ideas, but I've missed my man and knew he would be the one I'd want to comfort me through a rain storm. Enjoy.
Main Masterlist | Ko-Fi
Divider by @saradika
Are you busy?
No baby, whatâs up?
I donât like the storm.
Theyâve never been your favourite. Something about growing up on the coast, when the rain and wind would bring the waves crashing near your home, and your parents would walk about like nothing was wrong and there wasnât the immediate danger of your house being washed out to sea. The nights, when the wind would clatter the shutters against the windows and drag tiles from the roof to break onto the ground. It might be Washington D.C. now and you might live in a new apartment building, but it doesnât make the torrential rain and gale force winds any easier to handle.
Youâre sitting on the couch, curtains drawn with all the lights on to try and make it feel less scary, but when the first clap of thunder hits you jump and scream all the same, burying yourself further under the blanket, some childhood wish for that to keep you safe.
Thereâs a knock at the door a little while later, the only thing that could drag you from the warm cocoon of blankets. Padding gently to the door, you open it, Marcus stood in front of you, dripping wet from the storm outside. He steps across the threshold, arm wrapping around your waist as he dips to press a kiss to the crown of your head.
âThis feels stupid.â You grumble as you shut the door behind him, following close to his heels as he walks through your apartment, so familiar with it now that it feels like home to have to him here.
âItâs not stupid if youâre scared, baby.â He soothes, sitting down on your couch, opening his arm to encourage you to snuggle into his side, which you do without question.
You can feel his thumb tracing soothing circles on your arm as you settle a little, but itâs short-lived, when a crash of thunder bellows through the room from outside, making you jump and bury your head into the side of his neck with a groan.
âI blame the coast,â You speak softly, âI was always so scared of it blowing our house away when I was small.â
âYou know what helps?â Marcus murmurs against your head, another soft kiss placed to it.
âHmmm?â
âSometimes youâve just got to be louder than the storm.â
You look up at him, confused for a second, until you can feel him moving the two of you, laying you gently down on the couch. His mouth sponges kisses across your neck, trailing down across your collarbone before he drags it away to peel your tank top from your body. You hear Marcus hum in approval at your lack of bra, his hands gently pressing your tits together before his mouth is suckling a nipple into his mouth, tongue flicking over it until itâs stiffened to a peak, giving the same attention to the other side until youâre gasping, bucking your hips into his, the bulge in his trousers evident as his mouth trails further south, tongue leaving a trail from your tits and down your stomach until he gets to the waistband of your pyjama pants.
âLift up.â He murmurs softly, voice almost drowned out by the constant smattering of rain against the windows.
Doing as youâre told, you lift your hips up, letting him hook his fingers into the waistband to drag them down your legs. You miss the weight and warmth of his body when itâs gone, but then you feel his warm palms on the inside of your thighs, pressing your legs open, and then you donât mind so much at all, especially when you look up at him, watching him admire the already sticky mess accumulating between your thighs.
Marcus moves to run his thumb across your folds, dragging your slick across your skin, but not daring to dip below to where you truly want him.
âSuch a pretty pussy.â He muses, moving to situate himself between your legs, hot mouth pressing wet kisses to the delicate skin of your thighs, teasing you by putting his mouth everywhere but where you need it most.
âM-Marcus, please.â You whimper when his face moves, heâs so close to your cunt you can feel the hot of his breath.
âWhat do you want, baby?â He asks, running that damn thumb over your folds once more, this time though, his other thumb rests to the side, gently pulling your folds apart to bare you to him, âWant me to kiss it a little?â
âOh god, oh please Marcus, please.â
âSound so pretty when you beg for it.â He speaks, and youâre about to say something smart when he leans forward and presses a single, open-mouth kiss to your clit.
Itâs tiny in comparison to what you really want, but it makes you throw your head back anyway, back arching, trying to press your cunt closer to his face. Thankfully, he takes pity on you, kisses your clit once, twice more, and then you can feel the tip of his tongue, flicking up against your clit, then dragging back down, sometimes circling, working you gently until youâre whining and bucking your hips into his face.
Youâd almost forgotten about the storm outside, the movements of his tongue distracting you just enough, until the loudest clap of thunder echoes through the apartment. It makes you scream, jumping slightly, but you feel Marcusâ hands grip tightly to the skin of your thighs, tearing his mouth away from you. You look down at him, mouth glistening with a mix of your slick and his spit, glint across his brown eyes.
âWhat did I say?â He asks, squeezing at your thighs again, âWhat did I tell you earlier?â
âUmâŠâ You wrack your brain, trying to remember, âI needed to be louder than the storm?â
âThatâs right, my clever girl,â He praises, heat rising across your skin, âIf you scream for me, you wonât notice.â
Once again, before you can retort with your smart mouth, heâs back on you, lips closing around your clit, tongue resuming itâs flicking across your bundle of nerves, but then you can feel two of his fingers sinking inside you, easing into your walls, curling up against that perfect spot inside of you.
It makes you cry out, his name dropping from your lips as you arch off the couch, his tongue working in time to the press of his two fingers in your cunt. Youâre chanting his name into the room, moving your hips in time to the movements of his hands until youâre teetering on the edge of bliss. He knows, of course he does, the way your walls start to flutter around his fingers, so he slows his fingers, keeping you dangling over the edge but not quite pushing you just yet.
âMarcus p-please,â You whimper, hands tangling in his hair, âPlease make me come.â
âYou asked so nicely, baby,â He muses against your pussy, letting his fingers curl just perfectly against the spongy spot inside you, âWhenever youâre ready honey.â
It takes very little more, his mouth suckling at your clit, his fingers pressing inside you, and then youâre crashing, skin aflame with pleasure as you do exactly as he told you and scream his name into the living room, body convulsing, gushing around his fingers as they still inside you. Youâre clenching around him as his tongue moves gently across your clit to work you through your orgasm until youâre boneless and pliant beneath him.
Marcus drags his fingers from you, letting them run up the skin of your thighs, as he finally relents and pulls away from you, just in time for more thunder to sound out, this time a little further away.
âWell, listen there,â He whispers, fingers moving to undo the button of his trousers, âStorm still hasnât passed,â He speaks as he drags the zipper down, âThink you can make a little more noise, baby?â
You reach up, hand clutching the back of his neck to pull him back down on top of you, mouth meeting his, tasting yourself on his tongue as he kisses you before you pull away, âI can make all the noise you want.â
#Marcus Pike#Marcus Pike Smut#Marcus Pike x reader#Marcus Pike x you#marcus pike fanfiction#Marcus Pike x female reader#Marcus Pike x F!reader#Marcus Pike fic#Marcus Pike fanfic#the mentalist#the mental illness is winning#the mentalist fanfic#the mentalist fanfiction#Pedro pascal#marcus pike fluff#Marcus Pike angst#Marcus Pike Pedro Pascal#Marcus Pike The mentalist
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Marcus Pike x f!reader
(there is no masterlist for this man, good luck to this man)
He's looking for something other than vanilla, and she is more than happy to provide such a service to him.
warnings | 18+ this is smut, pegging, rimming, sucking and fucking, sex work, lowkey sugardaddy!marcus, sweet shy marcus getting his world rocked, and then pancakes and a blackberry and a black american express card so ya know, the works.
a/n | this was written LAST MAY woof - i think originally it was supposed to be for the first round of the PMAMC (also woof) but she's here now :') special thanks to @wannab-urs for resurrecting this fucker. there is a part two... just sayin
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The first thing she notices about him is that heâs nervous. He keeps loosening and tightening his tie, eyes glancing around in quick, anxious sweeps. Heâs definitely never been here before, she wouldâve remembered a face that handsome, strong jaw under a little scruff and big brown eyes that set a smile tugging at her lips when he finally meets her gaze.Â
âHey there, handsome, welcome in. First time?â His eyes drop down to the floor, a clipped laugh coming out as she steps closer to him.
âAm I that obvious?â He rolls his bottom lip between his teeth, eyes crinkled in a shy smile that sets warmth spreading in her chest, bringing a delicate palm to his shoulder.
âJust never seen you around before, thatâs all. What brings you to Pandoraâs tonight?â
âWell, I, uhâ I wanted toâ umââ He cuts his own rambling off, jaw slack as he watches a man in head to toe latex walk by, being led on a leash by one of her coworkers.Â
âHey, donât worry about them. I wanna know what you want. Would you feel more comfortable talking some more in one of our private rooms?â Eyelashes fluttering, spine arched, she knows exactly how to reel them in, noting the dip and bob of his throat as he nods.
âIâ yeah, um, yes please.â Manners, she likes that. She slips her hand down his arm, taking his hand before turning heel and tugging him down the dark hallway, taking them into one of the vacant playrooms. Itâs one of the tamer rooms, a four poster bed in the middle, red silk sheets, and a dark chest of drawers off to the side full of all sorts of fun. She guides him to sit down on the end of the bed beside her, his hands immediately going to his thighs in a nervous squeeze. His eyes are still darting everywhere, but mostly to the tops of her breasts, pressed up in the strappy leather corset she has on, though he doesnât let his gaze linger there long before jerking his eyes back up to her face.Â
âYou donât have to be nervous, baby. I just want to hear a little about why you came in, and how youâd like to be taken care of tonight, alright?â He nods, clearing his throat a few times before replying.
âI justâ you gotta know that Iâve never done anything like this before, really. But, I donât know, I guess I wanted to try something different? My, well my ex-wife, I think she thought I was too, um, vanilla. So I guess I want toâ not beâ um, vanilla anymore. And, Jesus Christ, you probably think Iâm crazy, huh?â Somehow, he manages to still be handsome and look like a kicked puppy at the same time, and she has to resist the urge to push his flop of hair back and press a kiss to the crease between his brows.
âNot crazy at all. So when you say not vanilla, what does that mean to you?â When he gives her no answer, eyes only widening as he seems to wrack his brain for what to say, she laughs lightly, bringing a palm to his thigh and giving him a reassuring squeeze.
âWhy donât we start with the basics? Do you see yourself being more of a dom or a sub?âÂ
âIâ what does that mean, dom and sub?â Oh boy, more basic than the basics then.
âDom is shorthand for dominant, thatâs the person in control in the relationship, and theyâre usually the one inflicting any pain, if youâre into that. And sub means submissive, thatâs the person who follows the domâs commands, who gets taken care of.âÂ
âOh, right, that makes sense. I mean, I donât think Iâd be very good at being in control like that, so I guess, more submissive?â Iâll say. She offers him a nod and smile, still trying to coax some of his anxiety out of him.
âSounds good, handsome. If itâs alright with you, I can be your partner for the night. Letâs get some paperwork for you and then we can get started, ok?â He only nods, something sheâs going to have to work on with him.
âFor this to work, Iâm gonna need you to always use your words with me, alright? That way I know exactly what you do and donât like.â She says it to him over her shoulder as she rifles through the chest of drawers, getting out a waiver and a pen for him.Â
âUh, yes, ok, I canâ I can do that.â She sits back down beside him with a hum, passing him the paperwork, watching his brow furrow as he reads over it.
âThatâs a list of kinks we do and donât participate in. Are there any that youâre particularly interested in exploring tonight?â Another clear of his throat, keeping his eyes glued to the paper when he responds.
âDo menâ do men really like that? I mean, Iâve heard of it, but, does it feel good?â She looks over his shoulder to where his finger is pointing, her lips crooking into a smile when she sees whatâs caught his attention.
âMmhmm, it can be very pleasurable, with an experienced partner, of course.â
âAnd youâ are you, um, experienced?â Her smile broadens into a grin at his question, resting her hand on his shoulder.
âOh baby, Iâm very experienced. Is that something youâd like to try out tonight?â He seems to consider it, his eyes darting from her lips back up to her gaze a few times before he finally nods.
âFuck it, yeah, I wanna do that. But is it ok if thatâs the only thing we do on this list? I donât think Iâm really into the wholeâ chains and whips thing.â She laughs at that, giving his shoulder a squeeze as she nods.
âWhatever you want. Just need you to sign that waiver which basically affirms that weâre all clean here at Pandoraâs, and you are too. Youâre familiar with our pricing, right? Itâs three hundred for an hour, and five for two.âÂ
âIs it ok if I do two?â
âYouâre the customer, honey. What you say goes.â With a decisive nod, he ticks the box next to two hours on the form, signing his name on the dotted line before handing her back the pen and paper.
âNice to officially meet you, Marcus. You can call me Daisy, and Iâll be taking care of you tonight.â As she sets the paperwork down on the chest of drawers, he lets out a light laugh, drawing her attention over her shoulder.
âThatâs not your real name, is it?â Stepping out of her heels, she pads back over to him, standing right between his legs, setting down the items she grabbed before guiding his hands onto her hips.
âItâs not, is there something else youâd like to call me for the night?â He takes a sharp inhale as she drags his hands from her hips, up and up until his palms are cupping her breasts through her corset.
âI, umâ Daisyâs good, yeah.â Letting her hands fall away from his, his eyes search hers, obvious in looking for permission that sheâs happy to give.
âYou can touch me, Marcus, whatever makes you feel more comfortable.âÂ
âCan I take this off of you?â His fingers are toying with the laced-up front of her corset, which she lightly bats away.
âItâs a little tricky, let me.â She makes deft work of unlacing the garment, a known path for her fingers that usually bores her, though thereâs a little kick of something else, him watching her and the fine flicker of her hands. Marcus lets out a laugh at the grin she offers him, fizzling in his throat when she lets the corset fall away to reveal herself to him, standing before him in only her barely-there shorts. The heat of his hands just hovers over the swell of her breasts, and she canât help the sigh that thrums in her throat when he finally lets his palms press against her skin. Itâs not often that a client affects her like this, and she has to clear her throat to refocus on the real task at hand.
âWhy donât we get you out of your clothes? Sit back for me.â Sheâs undone dozens of ties, worked her fingers through miles of shirt buttons, and doesnât even have to look to get trousers unfastened now, but she canât shake the prickle running up her spine at the way his eyes follow every movement, and she canât hide the shudder that runs through her when he tentatively tucks her hair behind her ear as she works his pants down his hips.Â
âHave you been doing this for long?â She shoots him a look from her spot between his legs, his pants discarded to leave him in just his briefs.
âAre you really trying to make small talk?â Oh, heâs blushing now. She likes that, crawling closer and dipping her head down to press a kiss to the center of his chest before dragging her lips up and up, catching at the bob in his throat before letting her mouth just hover over his, feeling the shaky pants of his breath.
âThereâs no need for that, Marcus. Iâm gonna take care of you now, and I need you to tell me what you like, and what you donât, do you understand?â His voice comes out a little hoarse, and she can feel the thrum of it where her chest is brushing against his.
âYes, I understand.â A grin is all she gives him, ducking down before his lips can meet hers as she lets her mouth drag a trail down his torso until sheâs nipping at the waistband of his briefs.Â
âCan I take these off?â When all he does is nod, she gives his hip a light pinch, something between a laugh and a grunt jumping from his chest at the sensation.
âYeah, you can take them off, Iâ sorry.â She smoothes her palm over the spot she pinched, smiling up at him.
âThatâs ok, baby. Just remember your words for me.â He canât be real, thatâs all she can figure when she gets him totally bare before her, his cock a perfect pink that matches the flush on his chest, thick enough to set her jaw aching in anticipation, and long, pre-come smearing in the tuft of hair over his pelvis. She canât help but wonder why the fuck anyone would ever want to leave him when heâs this pretty to look at.Â
âCan I touch you? Get you warmed up for me?â Heâs propped up on his elbows to watch her kneeling between his legs, lips swollen from how much heâs been biting them, slightly parted in something like wonder.
âYeah, yes, please.âÂ
âHmm, I like a boy with some manners. Just relax, Marcus, and remember, Iâm here to take care of you.â With that, she presses a kiss just below his belly button, smiling against the twitch of his muscles before dipping down and letting her lips ghost over the underside of his cock. Itâs involuntary, the hum she lets out when she takes him fully into the heat of her mouth, relaxing her throat like sheâs learned to do, a necessary move in order to take all of him. And heâs perfect beneath her, thighs flexing under her splayed palms, low moans rumbling in his chest as she alternates between swallowing him down and lapping at his leaking tip. She knows sheâs done her job, that sheâs loosened him up, when those moans start to get a little louder, a little more drawn out, and he slumps down off his elbows to run a hand through his hair, eyes scrunched shut. A kiss over one hip, then the other, keeping her palm steady on his heaving belly while she reaches for the lube, his eyes squinting open to see why she stopped.Â
âYou ever used lube before?âÂ
âNo, never needed to, I guess.âÂ
âWell itâs gonna be your best friend tonight. Iâm gonna warm a little up in my palms and then Iâll let you get used to the feel of it, ok?â He hums out an mmhmm, watching her hands rub in quick circles, his eyes following the subtle shake of her breasts with the movement. And when she gets her hands on him again, slicking her palm up his cock, a hiss slips through his lips.
âSorry, is it still cold?âÂ
âNo, fuckâ just feels really good.â She grins at that, letting her wrist flick, hand in an easy glide as she slips her palm down to cup the weight of his balls, his groan cracking and shooting up an octave, hips jolting at the sensation.Â
âHas no one touched you like this before, baby?âÂ
âIâ Jesus, noâ no oneâs done that before.âÂ
âWell thatâs just not right. Feels good, huh?â A little squeeze to punctuate her question sets another moan loose in his chest as he presses his head back into the sheets.
âY-yes, feels really good.â She nudges his thighs open a bit more, letting her hand slip down lower, not pressing, but circling, gauging how he reacts as she keeps her other hand easily stroking his cock.Â
âRemember, need you to tell me what feels good and what doesnât. We can stop at any time. Do you like what Iâm doing right now?â His eyes are still shut tight, one hand fisted in his hair, the other tangled in the sheets, pleasure pulling his whole body taut.
âYeah, I like it. Itâs, hahâ itâs different, good, different good.â His words go a bit slurred when she presses her finger forward, opening him up as he lets out another breathy moan.Â
He takes it well, whimpers and moans crackling in his throat as she starts a steady thrust, only pausing to work a little more lube over her hand.Â
âDoing so good for me, Marcus. You wanna try taking a little more?â He sits up on his elbows, surprising her a bit with his firm reply.
âI want more, want you to use that on me, please.â He tilts his head over to the strap laying on the end of the bed, once again catching her off guard.
âYou sure youâre ready for that?â He tilts his head at her, a crooked smile on his face.
âDidnât you say something about the customer always being right?â She lets out a real laugh at that, shaking her head at him as he just grins, clearly pleased with himself.Â
âI guess so. Alright, handsome, why donât you get on your hands and knees for me? Weâll take it nice and slow.â He seems a bit taken aback by that request, his smile going a little slack as she gets off the bed to step into her harness, though he catches himself, clearing his throat and shifting around on the bed into the position she asked for.
She canât help herself, getting back on the bed and kneeling behind him, laying a quick pat to his very cute ass that has him craning his neck over his shoulder to look at her.
âSorry, just looks so good I had to give it a little tap. You ready for me?â He hums his assent as she slicks her fake cock in lube, bringing one palm over his low back in a reassuring circle as she scoots in closer.Â
âJust relax, Marcus, this is about you feeling good. Thatâs it, open up for me.â She works her strap in slow, curling over him to press her lips in a murmuring of praise into his shoulder blades as he whimpers beneath her, his hands fisted tight in the sheets.Â
âHowâre you feeling, baby? Is it too much? We can go back to what weââ
âNo, no. I justâ just need a minute, fuckâ didnât think itâd feel this good.â Sheâs not being professional about this, she knows it too, but she doesnât care. A professional would be checking the clock, making sure that he gets his before his time is up. A professional wouldnât be laying kisses over his shoulders, whispering to him that heâs doing so good, that he can take it, that heâs so pretty like this. But nothing about the way she wants him right now feels professional, the way she wants to take care of him, to make him feel good, to keep him feeling good for as long as she can.
âJust say the word. I move when you want me to.âÂ
Slow and smooth, nothing but patience and permission in how she fucks him, her hips slotting with his again and again and again, simmering down into a close press, her chest draped over his back and her hand working his cock in time with her thrusts when he finally unravels beneath her. He slumps down onto his forearms, a slur of curses punching out of his lungs as she runs her palms up and down his shuddering back. But what he does next is so unexpected she finds herself at the mercy of his movements. The moment she pulls her hips away from his, he turns over underneath her, still catching his breath as his hands find her hips, insistent and harsh in the way he pulls her down onto the bed. Heâs certainly a sight, cheeks flushed and hair perfectly mussed up in every direction, his eyes blown dark and wide as he hovers over her.
âCan I take care of you now? Is that allowed?â A professional would say no, that his time is up, get him a towel and a glass of water and process his credit card.
She doesnât say no.
He fumbles a bit with the straps of the harness, letting out an impatient groan that makes her giggle, quick to bat his hands away and make easy work of shimmying the whole thing down her legs. And the smile he gives her as she does is downright sheepish.
âThatâs, uh, a bit tricky.â She brushes his hair back out of his face, thumb settling against the dimple in his cheek, a move thatâs entirely too sweet and she knows it.
âJust a little. Iâm all yours now though.â He doesnât waste any time, ducking his head down to press a sweet kiss over the top of her breast that turns salacious when he slides his tongue down over the tight peak of her nipple, her back arching up into the heat of his mouth as he lets his teeth graze over the sensitive skin. His hands are splayed around her hips, greedy and insistent in the way his fingers curl and press into her ass, lifting her hips up to slide her tiny shorts off her legs before he settles back between her thighs, his nose brushing against her twitching stomach, dark eyes flickered up to meet hers.
âIs this ok? Can I taste you? Make you feel good like that?â He steals a move from her book when all she does is nod, his hand thatâs still curled around her hip laying a gentle pinch to the swell, his grin going boyish as she huffs out a laugh.
âCan I have your words, Daisy, please?â She tilts her head at his shy question, enjoying the flushed flare creeping up his cheeks.
âHmm, youâre a fast learner, huh? Yeah, baby, I want your mouth, Want you to make me feel good.âÂ
Itâs not that she had been expecting him to be bad at it. But she also hadnât been expecting him to be so fucking good either. Head thrown back, thighs trembling around his scruff, moaning his name good. Heâs not precious about it, licking a flat stripe through her cunt before letting his tongue catch on her clit in a harsh press, dipping back down to lap up the slick pooling at her entrance, a continuous circuit of pleasure that has every muscle in her body tensing up. He groans low in his chest when she rakes her fingers through his hair, tugging just a bit unkindly when his teeth graze her clit. One large palm snakes up to grasp at the swell of one of her breasts, his other hand pressed across her pelvis to keep her spasming hips still as he fucks her with his tongue, the strong hook of his nose dragging across her clit with each pass. And it hits her all at once, that snare of pleasure snapping hot and hard as she comes with a stilted moan of his name, her heel pressing between his shoulder blades, keeping him exactly where he is, and he continues to work her over as she comes undone on his mouth.Â
She tugs at his hair again when it becomes too much, her hips jolting at the thrumming chuckle he lets out when he finally pulls away, resting his cheek against her hip while she tries to catch her breath. They lay like that for a hiccup of time, just staring at each other, a dazed smile on his glistening lips that she knows is mirrored in her own hazy grin. Eventually she lets out a long sigh, reaching out for him and thumbing away some of her arousal thatâs smeared across his jaw.Â
âDo you wanna, like, get a burger or something?â
âIs thatâ is that a part of my two hours?â âOh baby, your two hours were up a while ago.â
âŠ
Heâs waiting for her right outside the club, and she mentally kicks herself for having worn sweats and a hoodie in for her shift earlier, though he doesnât seem to mind, smiling big and broad when she steps outside to join him.Â
âI know you said burgers, but thereâs a diner around the corner that does the best pancakes in DC. Sound good to you?â She likes this version of him too, confident, certain, a bit old-fashioned with the way he holds his arm out for her to take like they didnât just wreck each other a few moments ago, letting her hold onto him the whole walk over to the diner, opening the door for her, the whole chivalric production.
Itâs so late at night, theyâre virtually the only people in the place, tucking into a cracked vinyl booth and putting in their order, pancakes and scrambled eggs and bacon, the works. And they share every last bite, having both clearly worked up an appetite after their evening together.
Though heâs vague about it, she can suss out for herself that heâs some sort of higher-up government type, she knows them well, and in turn, she answers his questions about her, that her work at Pandoraâs is good enough to be supporting her through college, Marcus seeming to perk up when she tells him sheâd like to be an art teacher one day. Heâs older than her, at least enough to have already been married and divorced, but she canât find it in herself to care about that, too busy enjoying their easy conversation, the subtle game of footsie they have going on under the table, and the way he smiles at her, all of his attention on her. Itâs so strange, so different, so starkly contrasted to the way her nights usually go, not that she minds the simple rotation of disinterested clients, but she hasnât had someone look at her, really look at her the way Marcus is, in quite a while.Â
âI have to admit, I wasnât really expecting my night to end like this.â Plates long cleared, each of them nursing a mug of coffee as the first sweeps of dawn start to light up the streets outside, she smiles at his admission.
âGood surprise or bad surprise?â He grins at her question, leaning in on his elbows like he has the wildest secret to tell her.
âReally good surprise. I mean, I just think youâreâ amazing. Fuck, is that weird of me to say?â She mirrors him, leaning in on her elbows, a smile threatening to quirk her lips.
âHmm, no, itâs cute. For the record, I think youâre kinda amazing too.â Their faces are so close, and she realizes all at once that she hasnât even kissed him yet.
âOnly kinda, huh? Guess I didnât do my job then.â She can almost feel the curve of his smile as she laughs at his simpering response, the sound getting swallowed when he closes the space between them, pressing his lips to hers. And heâs good at this too, his palm coming to cup her jaw, thumb stroking along her cheek as he deepens the kiss, licking into her mouth and nearly melting her on the spot. Though itâs over too soon for her liking when they get interrupted by someone clearing their throat in front of their table, pulling away to see the rather annoyed looking waitress setting their check down and shuffling away with a sour side-eye. She opens her mouth to protest when Marcus reaches for his wallet, but he waves his hand, black American Express glinting in the dinerâs fluorescent lights.
âDonât worry about it, baby, Iâve got it. Itâs the least I can do after going over my two hours.â She can tell he means it as a joke, a flippant remark, but her stomach still sinks at even the suggestion of this still being a business transaction. Itâs a sore spot for her, and though sheâs more than comfortable with the work she does, her exes hadnât been, nor had they been kind about it for that matter.
Busy signing the check, Marcus doesnât notice the way her face falls, and sheâs already out of the booth and halfway out the door of the diner when he finally calls out for her, further rubbing salt in the wound when the name he uses is Daisy.Â
âWoah, woah, hey, what happened in there?â The hand he hooks around her bicep is gentle but insistent, and she canât help the tears threatening to spill over when he turns her around to look at him in the faint morning light.
âLook, if thatâs all this is to you, just business, thatâs fine, but I have enough respect for myself to notââ He cuts her off, bringing his broad palm to cup her cheek again, his eyes wide and unwavering.
âHey, thatâs not what this isâ I mean, at least not anymore. We did meet under some, ah, particular circumstances. But this isnât business to me now, if thatâs ok with you?â He thumbs away her stray tears, and she nearly goes dizzy with the relief she feels hearing those words from him.Â
âIâm sorry, baby, it was a stupid thing to say, wasnât even thinking.â Baby, itâs the second time heâs called her that. Sheâs never anyoneâs baby, theyâre always hers, but she likes it now, coming from him, finding herself smiling into his touch.
âI donât want you to call me Daisy.â His eyes soften, smile tempering as he nods.
âOk, what should I call you?â She tells him her real name, and with it, the last shred of her professionalism dissolves, and she doesnât care one bit. He says her name like heâs rolling a hard candy around in his mouth, slow sugar in each syllable before he presses a kiss between her brows, lips trailing down to catch hers in a sweet smack.Â
âCan I see you again? And, definitively not as, um, as business?â It makes her laugh, how quickly he shifts between confidence and constraint. She likes both.Â
âI would really really like that, Marcus. Am I giving you my number or are you giving me yours?â His eyebrows shoot up his forehead, like heâs surprised she actually wants that, though heâs quick to catch himself, clearing his throat and smiling.
âUh, both? Both is good, right?â They swap phones, and she canât help thinking to herself that of course this man has a Blackberry, stifling a giggle as she types in her number.Â
âCan I walk you to your car? Itâs back at the club, right?âÂ
âOh, I donât have a car, actually. Just take the bus to get around.â He doesnât seem to like that, lips pressing into a thin line as he looks at her.
âHow about I get you home this morning? Would that be ok?â Under any other circumstances, she wouldnât dream of getting into the car of a man she just met, but seeing as sheâs already broken a dozen of her cardinal rules with him, she doesnât think twice about getting into his sleek BMW thatâs still parked outside the club. He keeps a palm splayed just above her knee, thumb idly swiping back and forth, a soothing lull as she gives him directions toward her apartment complex. She hates to admit it to herself, but sheâs a bit reluctant to get out when he does pull up to her building, leaning over the console for a kiss that he willingly gives her.Â
âSo Iâll call you?â She lays a kiss to the small patch in his scruff, smiling against his skin when he lets out a huff.
âIâll answer. Thank you, Marcus, for a really nice night, and morning.â
When she gets inside her apartment, she slumps back against the door, blowing out a long exhale and shaking her head.
âFuck.â Her boss is going to kill her, but she doesnât really care.Â
#marcus pike#marcus pike fanfiction#marcus pike imagine#marcus pike fluff#marcus pike fic#marcus pike angst#marcus pike smut#marcus pike x reader#marcus pike x female reader
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âTis The Damn Season: Chapter Three
pairing: marcus pike x f!ofc (nathalie moss)
chapter rating: E (18+ Only, no explicit smut but lots of steamy makeouts and wandering hands so putting an explicit warning just to be safe, talks of anxiety, talks of breakups/cheating, smooch city basically)
word count: 4k
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Nathalie hadnât been on a first date in seven years.
The last time sheâd done thisâgetting pampered and getting ready, squeezing on her best dress and making sure her red lipstick wasnât bleeding onto her pearly whitesâsheâd was only twenty-one years old. She knew so little about herself, about what she wanted and didnât want in a parter and in life. She used to be content with simply being desired, but now, after years and years of hard lessons and harsh truths, she craved so much more from this silly little thing called love.
As she stood in front of her full-length mirror examining herself, her hands smoothing over the fabric of the little black dress sheâd worn for Valentineâs Dayâback when she was still a bride-to-be, she couldnât help but wonder how many of these newfound cravings were sated by Marcusâs presence in her life.
Most, her brain was quick to answer.
Marcus was kind, intelligent, funny, gentle, romantic, handsome, but above all that, he seemed to know her in a way her ex never did, even after years of living with her.
Marcus made her feel faint with his sort of natural ease in understanding her. She always had to fight so hard to be understood by her friends, partners, and even her own family at times. She was so used to feeling like she had to convince people to like herâto get herâand here comes Marcus, doing it as though it was as easy as breathing, flipping her world upside down.
âWho are you and what did you do with my gremlin daughter?â Mr. Moss leaned against the opened door of her bedroom as she fussed over her hair, combing through the curls so that they fell more like waves. Nathalie turned around with an eye roll and a chuckle, shaking her head at him as he grinned proudly at his teasing, a half-melted bowl of ice cream in his hands as it was âSundae Nightâ at the Moss house. âYou look nice, sweetheart.â
âThanks, dad.â Nathalie walked over to her bed and grabbed her purse, making sure she had everything she might need in it.
âOh, would you look at that!â Mrs. Moss gushed at her daughterâs done up appearance as she joined her husband in the doorway. âI hardly recognize you.â
âIs that supposed to be a compliment, mom?â She asked with a nervous chuckle, their reactions to her appearance making her question whether or not sheâd gone a bit over the top.
âWellâŠweâre just used to seeing you a bit more casual is all,â Mrs. Moss assured, though it did little to quell her daughters building anxiety. âNot that you donât look stunning in your pajamas and sweats and pimple patchesââ
âThanks, mom.â Nathalie felt her stomach start to flip with anxiety, but thankfully, Marcus didnât give her any time to simmer with it, his knocks on the front door making all three pairs of eyes widen with differing emotionsâelation, amusement, and puke-your-brains-out panic.
âLet me go grab my shotgun,â Mr. Moss joked, earning a swat on his stomach from his wife.
âHush,â she scolded before turning back to Nathalie. âYou donât even own a water-gun, you big idiot.â Mrs. Moss quickly turned her attention back to Nathalie, flashing her a bright, hopeful smile. âYou ready?â
âAs Iâll ever be,â she spoke through an exhale as she grabbed her clutch and followed her nosy parents down to the front door, quickly throwing her coat and scarf on. Taking one last breath of confidence, she opened the door and instead of beaming at Marcus, she was greeted by someone she never expected to see again. âJames?â
âNat,â her ex-fiancĂ© breathed out in relief upon seeing her, until his blue eyes focused and he took in her outfit, clearly not remembering heâd already seen her in that dress earlier that year. âHolyâŠyou look incredible.â
âJames, what are you doing here?â She asked in a sharp tone, her parents eavesdropping and hiding behind the open door.
âI canât stop thinking about you,â he confessed, boldly taking a step forward while Nathalie took two steps back. Sensing her hesitation, James froze and held his hands up apologetically. âListen, I know we left things sort ofâŠmessilyââ
âMessily? â She asked in disbelief, turning to look at her parents for help. Her father was quick to make his presence known, staring down the man he used to view as his son. Nathalie begged him again, disgusted by his presence, âJames, I donât want to see you. I want you to leave.â
âNat,â he pleaded softly, as if a little pout could remedy all the hurt he bestowed upon her over the years.
âJames,â Marcusâ voice was both soothing and worrying as he approached her ex, taking slow strides up the porch steps until he was standing beside him, his eyes taking over Nathalieâs state for only a moment before turning back to her ex. Nathalie cringed. She didnât want this to be the way their first date began, and she especially didnât want Marcus to get the wrong idea about her and Jamesâsheâd much rather die than to be with him again. âWhat an unpleasant surprise.â
âMarcus,â James nodded at him, his tone full of irritation at the lack of privacy he was likely hoping for. The privacy that would increase his odds at appealing to her desperation and stupidity. âNat, is there anywhere we can go to talk? Just the two of us?â
âNo,â she chuckled, appalled by his casual persistence. âI told you. I donât want to talk to you.â
He stared at her with pure shock. This wasnât the woman he rememberedâthe living, breathing doormat he loved to walk all over was long gone.
âBesides,â she stepped passed him to where Marcus patiently waited on the porch, her arm looping with his. âIâm busy tonight.â
âWith him?â James chuckled, shaking his head.
âYeah,â Marcus nodded, suddenly looking so much different than the man she knew. He looked more masculine, more threatening, the change in posture even making him appear bigger. âWith me.â
âDonât worry, Nattie,â Mr. Moss assured. âIf this asshead is still around by the time you get home, Iâll be sure to handle it.â
Nathalie couldnât help but smile at her fatherâs protectiveness, the man usually so gentle he refused to hurt even a fly, but when it came to his baby girl he would stop at nothing to make sure she was not only safe, but happy.
âNat!â James called out from the porch as Marcus walked her down her porch and freshly shoveled walkway to his car waiting by the curb. âCâmon!â
âWellâŠheâs persistent, Iâll give him that,â she chided as Marcus reached to open her door.
âHeâs an asshole.â Marcus looked tense, his eyes hardly meeting hers as he held her door open, Nathalie carefully seating herself without flashing him.
As she waited in the car for him to walk around and climb in beside her, she felt panic start to bubble up in her again. Was he angry with her? Did he no longer want to go out? Was her drama too much drama for him to handle?
âMarcus, Iâm sorrââ
âYou look so fucking good,â he confessed as he sat down and shut his door, shooing all worry out of her mind yet again. His eyes turned to meet hers, a longing in them that made her thighs squeeze together out of instinct. Marcus tried not to notice, but the knowing smile that grew on his face told her he was far too vigilant to miss it. âI had a whole thing rehearsed in my head for when I first saw you. But that was before your idiot of an ex showed up to try and win you back.â
âEmphasis on try.â She reached over the center console and placed her hand on his knee, one of Marcusâ hands quickly dropping from the steering wheel to intertwine with hers. âI was worried I went a little overboard with the makeup, and the heels, and the hair, and the dressââ
âNo, I love the dress.â He glanced over at her with a smirk, his eyes flickering down to her cleavage before lifting back to her own. âYou look beautiful.â
âAll this sweetness is gonna take some getting used to,â she confessed softly, unable to believe his compliments after years of being picked apart by James. Marcus lifted the hand holding hers up to her chin, lovingly pinching it.
âIâm a patient man,â he assured with a knee-weakening smile.
âYouâreâŠa saint, apparently,â she chuckled, turning to look out of the window at their snow-covered town.
âTrust me, Iâm not a saint.â Her eyes wandered back to his profile, studying him to try and find any sort of flaw or sin lying beneath the surface but she couldnât see any from where she satâjust a handsome man that made her feel at home whenever she looked into his eyes.
âIâm struggling to see where your faults are,â she challenged, earning a bashful chuckle. âIâve always thought you were so much better than everyone. Not even just your looksââ
âTell me more about my good looks.â He glanced at her with a smirk.
âI think Iâll save that ego-boost for another time,â she winked, forcing a blush to his cheeks. âBut no, beyond all that physical stuff, youâve always just been such a good guy. You sorta set a standard, intentionally or not.â
âWell,â he laughed. âIâm good at seeming a lot better than I am, I guess.â
âWell, go on, then. Whatâs going on beneath the surface that I havenât seen yet?â She challenged with an eyebrow raise and a smirk, Marcus shrugging through his shyness.
âI donât know,â he spoke with a boyish bashfulness and a smile. When he turned to look at her, his train of thought was interrupted by the passing yellow light of the street lamps illuminating her face. Suddenly every word he knew seemed more meaningless than they did a few seconds prior, none of them quite able to describe her beauty well enough to earn being voiced to her listening ears. So, he settled on saying nothing at all, his eyes choosing to keep this moment of admiration a private one for now. âThereâs lots of things.â
âJust give me one thing that makes you anything less than perfect,â she asked sweetly, oblivious to the fact that Marcus would already do whatever for her, including laying his heart out for her to judge and pick apart at her will.
âOkay, I rush into things a lot. Thatâs a big one,â he finally managed a response as they pulled into the parking lot of an upscale Italian restaurant. âYeah, I justâŠin the past, Iâve gotten swept up in the romance of it all and I suppose I had a tendency to move a little quick.â
âI donât mind moving a little quick every now and then,â she replied, tone thick with suggestion. Marcus chuckled and let out a sigh, struggling to find the willpower to do as his mother told and take things slow with Nathalie.
âYouâreâŠâ he chuckled as he struggled to find an adequate adjective to describe her. âIâd say perfect but that makes it sound like having flaws is a bad thing.â
âTheyâre not?â She questioned, shifting in her seat to better face him, content to spend the entire night right there in this parking lot listening to him speak.
âI donât think so,â he shrugged, turning a bit in his own seat. Nathalie quirked an eyebrow at him in a silent demand for him to elaborate and he chuckled. âThey go into making you, you just as much as the good stuff does.â
Nathalie smiled and nodded, her eyes locked on his. With her smile growing wider and more playful, she looked down at her lap and spoke, âSoâŠif you donât want to call me perfect, what am I then?â
âThought-consuming, how about that?â He sounded bashful, his voice quieted to a rasp just above a whisper.
Nathalie didnât care that they were in a parking lot, she didnât care that anyone could walk past and judge them, she only cared about feeling his lips on hers again, his taste and feel intoxicating and soothing at the same time.
âThink thatâs two words,â she breathed out as she leaned over the console between them, Marcus grinning as he met her halfway into a nearly painful kiss. Her hands held the curve of where his jaw met his neck while his rested on her face, keeping her close. When Nathalie tested out something needier, a swipe of her tongue over his lips, Marcus let out a groan that sent a jolt of pleasure straight to her core.
âMm,â he hummed as he found the strength to pull away, chuckling against her lips. âTaking it slow, remember.â
âThatâs gonna beâŠâ
âImpossible, yeah.â He laughed through a sigh and ran his hands over his face as he sat back in his seat.
âYou okay?â She asked with genuine concern. Marcus was quick to nod and give her a soft smile to reassure her.
âYeah, Iâm just trying toâŠcalm down,â he chuckled in embarrassment as Nathalieâs eyes lowered to his pants, his unexpected (and impressive) bulge causing her eyes to widen.
âYeah, this isâŠgonna be difficult,â she laughed and lifted her eyes back to his, reaching over to pinch his bearded chin. âAnd really fun.â
âYeah,â he beamed. âI think so too.â
âDo you still wanna go in?â She asked after a beat, earning a curious look from Marcus. âHonestly, we could just grab McDonaldâs and sit in the car all night talking and Iâd be happy.â
âYeah?â He asked with a curl of his lips. âWe can do whatever you want. Iâm just glad to be here.â
âMe too.â She reached over and tugged him in for one more kiss, this time something soft and sweet rather than needy and heated. She wanted him to feel how happy he was already making her, how downright into him she was. His soft hum buzzing against her lips told her that he was hoping to do the same. âOkay, McDonaldâs now.â
âYes, Miss Moss.â
âSoâŠâ Marcus started with a smirk, pausing to chew on the fries heâd just lifted to his lips. The couple was sat in the McDonaldâs parking lot, the bright yellow and red light of the Golden Arch glowing into the car as they ate.
âSo?â Nathalie asked with a look of amused interest, taking a sip of her Coke.
âWhat, uh, what actually went down with you and James?â He asked, turning his head to meet hers. Nathalie kept her slight smile on, though a sigh left her lips. âYou donât have to tell meââ
âNo, no. Itâs notâŠI justâŠthe thought of him always puts me in a bad mood, and I donât want you to have to be around me like that,â she clarified, but Marcus only creased his brows in response.
âNat,â he spoke her name sternly, bringing her eyes back to his. âYou donât have to hide yourself away from me. I work for the government, Iâm good at handling a bad mood.â
She chuckled and nodded before reaching over and stealing one of his fries. âWell, I thought everything was perfect between him and I. That entire seven years, I was delusional and happy and peacefully ignorant to how just plain fucking awful he was to me.â
Marcus didnât say anything, simply shifting in his seat to better face her, his fingers quietly lifting his fries to his mouth as she continued.
âAnyways, one night Iâd been working pretty late at the museum, and so Iâd texted him and let him know that I probably wouldnât be home until around midnight.â Nathalie paused to take a bite out of her burger, missing the way Marcus watched her in endearment as she tried to hurry her chews, her hand waving as though it would help. âSorry, this burger is so good.â
âI know, I finished mine in three bites.â Nathalie chuckled as she looked over at Marcusâ empty burger box. âAlright, so youâre at the museumââ
âRight,â she nodded, regaining her focus. âI texted him that Iâd be home late or whatever, but then I managed to finish early, so instead of showing up at midnight like he thought, I ended up showing up around tenâand the first thing I see when I unlock my door? My fiancĂ© and my fucking boss fully going at it on the couch I bought. Straight up naked, spread eagle.â
âOh, god,â Marcus sympathized, shaking his head at her as she nodded.
âYeah. So, I left immediately and spent the night at a friendâs place. I just remember feeling like Iâd finally turned the fucking light on and could see that this past seven years of my life, Iâd been so unhappy. Sleeping on my friends couch I finally realized that I actually hated James. I was only still with him because I was comfortable. Because he was gonna give me the life I dreamed of or whatever. But after seeing him with someone else, there was no way I could go back. So I packed all my shit up and left town, left my job, left everything. Now Iâm just hereâŠrecovering.â
âJesus,â Marcus sighed, his eyes full of sincere sympathy. âIâm so sorry you had to go through that.â
âItâs alright,â Nathalie chuckled bashfully, shrugging her shoulders. âAfter all, it brought me here.â
Marcus smiled as he leaned over, his hand cradling her jaw as he gave her enough space to reject him but there was no need. Nathalie quickly leaned in and pressed her lips to his.
What started out as a tender kiss soon became ravenous, Marcusâ strength seemingly to dwindle with each little burst of a makeout. His hand slid up her sheer stockings, warming the outside of her thigh as his fingertips reached the hem of her dress. Nathalie let out a soft, hardly audible moan as he allowed his fingers to continue traveling up underneath her skirt until he was gripping her hip.
âMarcus,â she breathed against his lips, suddenly aware of the public nature of their makeout.
âSorry,â he panted as he pulled back, readjusting her skirt as he slid his hand back down to her knee.
âDonât be too sorry,â she reached over for his chin, her fingertips smoothing along his bearded jaw. âJust maybe not in a McDonaldâs parking lot.â
âOr your parentâs houseâŠor my parentâs house,â he added, a frown forming on both their faces until Marcus seemingly got an idea. âHey, I have to go into the city to finish up my shopping this weekend. Do you maybe wanna come with me?â
Nathalie looked stunned, but in a good way. The prospect of spending a weekend away in New York City with Marcus fucking Pike during Christmastime was the stuff of her teenage dreams.
âOh no, is that too much, too fast?â He asked with panic all over his face, the first sign of that emotion that she knew intimately coming from him.
âNo,â she reached her hand back to rest on his neck, scratching at the hairs on the base of his skull. âIt sounds like a fucking dream.â
Marcus brightened again, leaning in to place a singular peck onto her lips.
âI canât wait,â he smiled as he pulled away and packed his trash into the brown bag while Nathalie ate her last bite of burger before doing the same. âI, uh, think my parents are still out at churchâŠif you wanted to watch a movie at my place or something? Iâve gotâŠpuzzles?â
Nathalie couldnât help but chuckle at the boyish nature of his smile, his eyes clearly filled with hope for more time in her company. How could she ever say no when he was looking at her with his big brown eyes?
âIâm pretty good at puzzles.â
Marcusâs parents had indeed still been out of the house when they pulled into his driveway, but that was just about all that went according to plan.
As soon as the couple crossed the threshold of his front door, they couldnât keep their hands off one another. Marcus walked her back against the wall of the entryway, making a family portrait rattle against the wall as she hit it with a soft thud. Nathalie giggled as his lips trailed down to her neck, the scruff of his beard tickling her the entire time.
âYou smell so good,â he praised, too swept up in her to join her in her giggles. His voice sent a chill down her spine and she tightened her grip on his coat, tugging him closer until he was pressing his hips into hers. She gasped as she felt his bulge against her hip, quickly stiffening with each passing second. It wasnât long before Marcus was breathing out against her neck, âfuck, I want youâ.
âTake me upstairs,â she panted, her hand lowering from the lapel of his coat down to his cock, rubbing it through the fabric of his pants.
âCanât,â he sucked a mark on her collarbone, a considerate one that could easily be hidden under a sweater. âMy parents are gonna be home soon.â
âWe can be quick,â she persisted, pulling his face from her neck and holding it as she looked into his eyes with a mischievous pout. Marcus beamed at her full of affection, his thumb lifting to stroke over her bottom lip.
âI donât want our first time to be quick, baby.â
Nathalie felt like she was floating and melting and burning all at the same time as she listened to him call her âbabyâ, the look in his eyes just the cherry on top of an already dream-worthy moment that she never in her wildest dreams wouldâve imagined happening.
âIf you call me baby again, Iâm gonna pass out, I think,â she whispered through her grin, her eyes falling to his lips as she pulled him closer for a kiss, Marcus chuckling into it when their lips met.
âWell, Iâll be here to catch youâŠbaby,â he felt her smile grow against his lips, her giggle being kissed away.
As Marcus moved to deepen the kiss again, the couple was surprised by the front door opening abruptly, not giving them enough time to sort themselves out before his parents were taking in their flushed states.
âMarcusâŠNathalie,â Mr. Pike greeted awkwardly as Mrs. Pike gave the couple a beaming smile, clearly approving of their romance. She tugged her husband out of the entryway to give the pair some privacy again, noticing the blushes on Marcus and Nathalieâs faces.
âWalk me home?â Nathalie asked once they were alone again. Marcus nodded, slipping his hand into hers and opening the front door.
Once they were out in the cold, Marcus wrapped his arm around Nathalieâs waist, holding her close to his side.
âSo you got to ask me about my ex,â she started with a smirk, her eyes facing forward. âWhat happened with yours?â
âI donât know if we have the time,â he chuckled.
âYou can come in for some tea,â she offered, turning her head to look at him with round, hopeful eyes.
âOkay,â he agreed softly.
He was sure that she could get him to do anything with those eyes.
After unlocking her door, she welcomed him into her home, the lights on the downstairs all off signaling that her parents had gone to bed. Flicking through light switch on in the entryway, she kicked her boots off before shedding her coat, hanging it on the hook by her parentâs. Marcus did the same, except he chose to drape his coat over his arm, holding onto it until they reached the kitchen, then setting it down on the barstool of the island.
âSo, what was her name?â Nathalie asked in a hushed voice as she started to prepare the kettle on the stove.
âTeresa,â he sighed, pulling out the barstool as silently as he could before sitting down in it. âWe worked together on a case, art theft. I, uh, liked her a lot. But there was another guy who was always sort of thereâin between us. I guess I thought I needed to hurry up and settle down with her before he could, I donât know. I definitely wasnât doing it because I was sure that I wanted to marry her. I knew she didnât love me like she loved him, but I wasnât ready to give up on the fantasy Iâd created in my head of a wife and kids.â
Nathalie turned around once the kettle had been set on the flame, resting her elbows on the island and studying the hurt in his eyes.
âHave you given up on that?â She asked, watching as he shook his head.
âNo,â he chuckled. âI still believe in real love and want to have a family someday, I justâŠIâd like to think Iâve gotten better about being realistic about it.â
âDid you think Emily was gonna be the one?â She teased, earning a guffaw from him.
âEmily was my complete and total opposite in every sense of the word,â he assured, standing up to go join her on the other side of the island, his hand tilting her jaw up.
âDid you twoâŠâ
âNo.â He shook his head. âSheâs saving herself for marriage. Apparently sheâs very devout. I didnât know that.â
âI think thatâs the first time religionâs paid off for me,â Nathalie chuckled to herself, lowering her eyes to his belt, her fingertip reaching to trace the metal of it, Marcusâs breath catching in response.
âThought I heard a noise down here,â Mrs. Moss walked into the kitchen and broke the pair apart, Marcus clearing his throat while Nathalie moved to take the whistling kettle off the heat. âHow was dinner?â
âIt was good,â Nathalie replied through a still fuzzy mind, Marcusâs cologne still permeating her senses.
âGood!â Her motherâs attention turned to Marcus as he fetched a couple mugs out of one of the cabinets, having become familiar with the Moss kitchen over the years. âMarcus, any ideas for date number two?â
âMom.â Nathalie scolded as she stood beside a chuckling Marcus, dropping a tea bag in each mug before filling them with water.
âActually, yeah. Iâm going into the city for some last minute Christmas shopping this weekend and I invited Nat to come,â he smiled as he glanced over at Nathalie, carefully measuring honey on a spoon before dropping it into the hot tea.
âOh, how fun! Itâs been half a year since sheâs left our little town.â Her mom teased, earning another embarrassed groan from her daughter. Marcus couldnât help but feel even more endeared to her as she blushed her way through fixing him a cup of tea, avoiding both pairs of eyes locked onto her.
âMom, Marcus and I were talking,â Nathalie gave her mom a look that she hoped conveyed her desperation for more alone time with her date, but of course, Mrs. Moss couldnât be subtle about itânot so long as it embarrassed her daughter.
âOh! Talking. Right. Wink, wink.â Mrs. Moss retired back upstairs while Nathalie groaned and covered her face.
âIâm so sorryââ
âDonât be, I love your mom,â he assured, rubbing her back. âI think itâs sweet how invested in your life she is. My momâs the same way.â
âI think we have them to thank for us finally getting together,â she raised her mug up as though to toast, Marcus beaming as he lifted his own and clinked it against hers.
âTo our meddling mothers,â he proposed.
âGotta love âem.â
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#pedro pascal#pedro pascal fic#pedro pascal fanfiction#pedro pascal smut#pedro pascal fluff#marcus pike fanfiction#marcus pike angst#marcus pike smut#marcus pike x oc#marcus pike fluff#marcus pike#the mentalist fanfic#tis the damn season
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Closer
Summary: Your due date is close and you finally give in and reach out to Frankie to talk over things. But before the talk can happen you run into him. And his son.
Pairing: Frankie Morales x fem. Reader; Marcus Pike x fem. Reader
Wordcount: 1.6k
Warnings: unplanned pregnancy, fluff, angst, implied complications at childbirth, implied character death
A/N: so. yeah. this escalated quickly.
Part of the (Ir)replaceable series
You were getting closer and closer to your due date. And by closer you meant next week.
You, for some reason, hadnât run into Frankie anymore. And you didnât know how to feel about it. On one hand you were happy, because he seemed to respect your wishes, on the other handâŠÂ
It was his child you were carrying. Yes, he hurt you, more than you would ever wish to anyone, but he was the father of your child. Your little girl.
God, you wished you could just handle this like every other break up and move on. But you would have to see him at some point. If he chose to have a relationship with this child, your child, that was. You didnât even know if he told the truth about having told his wife.Â
âSweetheart?â you turned your head, a smile sneaking to your face as you heard footsteps.Â
âIâm here,â you called out, your smile widening when you saw Marcus walk on the patio.Â
He kissed your forehead before he sat down next to you, his arm coming to rest around your shoulder.
Marcus had turned out to be your biggest surprise. Again.
Yes, he had come home with you, and yes he continued to be a big support for you but there was a voice deep inside in your head that told you every single day that he would leave.Â
But itâs been months and Marcus had been to every single doctor's appointment with you. He had gone to birthing classes with you. He had been your rock.Â
But you both decided that you would take it slow.Â
Not only because you both had been burned in the past, but because you were a hormonal mess and Marcus was scared you would hate him once you had given birth and your hormones were back to normal.Â
And while you wanted to laugh as he told you about this fear, you ended up kissing him softly and agreeing to wait.Â
Which was why even though you were sleeping in the same bed, you havenât had sex yet. Much to your (and his) frustration.Â
âYou really wanna go to the store? I could get what we need,â he asked.Â
You smiled, taking his hand.Â
âMight be the last time we can go alone to the store together for a while,â you hummed and he smiled. You both rested your hands on your belly that looked like it was ready to burst.Â
You felt so fucking huge, you were ready for this pregnancy to be over.Â
Lately you had caught yourself wishing it wasnât Frankieâs baby, but Marcusâ. A thought you felt guilty about. But then you had talked to your therapist about it (oh yes, you had started therapy to work though all of those feelings and issues) and they had told you that it was normal for you to imagine this with how you had been hurt by the biological father.Â
Marcus had practically moved in with you. He still had his apartment and he still had his job back in Washington. But three weeks ago he had officially asked to transfer to the office here which was only a formality. The FBI was glad to have him here.Â
âI canât believe youâre due next week,â he said.
âMe neither,â you sighed.Â
âHave you⊠Have you thought about reaching out to him?â Marcus asked hesitantly.Â
âHonestly?â you asked. He nodded.Â
âI think about reaching out every single day. I⊠Even though he hurt me, he has the right to see his daughter. And I have toâŠ. I have to come to terms with seeing him. If he wants to see his child that is.â
Marcus kissed your temple.Â
âMaybe ask him to come over to talk? I could go so you could talk about everything andâŠâ you shook your head.Â
âI want you there when I talk to him. You are going to be part of her life too. You will most likely spend more time with her than he will. You⊠I canât do this without you,â you said. Marcus squeezed your hand.Â
âTell me when and Iâll be there.â
âWhich one?â Marcus held up two different brands of mint chocolate chip ice cream and you pursed your lips in thought.Â
âBoth?â you said after a while and he chuckled.Â
You had texted Frankie, left your phone at home and then went to the store with Marcus. It was almost 10pm and the store was pretty empty. Only a couple of people walking around. You were pushing the cart, which was mostly filled with snacks you had been craving throughout your pregnancy.Â
Marcus came over, his hand resting on your back after he put the ice cream into your cart. You grinned up at him and he kissed you, his other hand resting on your belly.Â
He was obsessed with your belly, talking to your little girl all the time, telling her goodnight stories when he thought you were already asleep.Â
You wondered if Frankie would have been like that too. Was he excited to be a father? And to two children at once?Â
You wondered how his wife took the whole affair and second baby thing. You didnât know if he told the truth when he told you he had confessed everything to his wife.Â
You blinked your eyes, getting rid of the thoughts as you pushed the cart forward into the next aisle.Â
And suddenly he was there, his eyes already on you when you stopped in your tracks.Â
You could hear Marcus say something, but it was like you were under water as you looked at him. But it wasnât him that had your attention, it was the child strapped to his chest. You only got out of your trace when you felt Marcus hand on top of yours, your knuckles white from the way you were squeezing the shopping cart.Â
You felt the familiar panic inside of you building as you looked at Frankie.Â
âSweetheart, look at me,â Marcus tilted your head towards him and you blinked up at him.Â
âDo you want to leave?â he asked quietly. You gulped, letting go of the shopping cart to let him guide your hands to his chest. He breathed with you, in and out until you felt the fog in your brain disappear.
âDo you want to leave?â he asked again, his eyes full of concern. His eyes left yours only briefly to look behind you before they were on you again. It was forever before you shook your head.Â
âAre you sure?â he asked again, checking in with you. You nodded, taking a deep breath before you turned around again, finding Frankie still at the spot you had last seen him.Â
Marcus' hand on your back was grounding you as you slowly made your way down the aisle.Â
You were tired of running.Â
And until you moved to another city (which was a whole other conversation you would have with Marcus at some point) you did not want to walk around town, scared you would run into the man who broke your heart.Â
âHey,â Frankie said as you stopped next to him.Â
He lookedâŠ. He looked miserable. His eyes sad and exhausted. And you hated the part of yourself that was happy about it.Â
âHey,â you said back, your eyes wandering down to the sleeping baby against his chest.Â
It looked so tiny against him as it slept peacefully, the squishy cheek resting on his chest.Â
âUhm⊠Hi. IâmâŠ. Iâm Frankie,â you watched him reach out his hand towards Marcus, who shook it.Â
âMarcus Pike,â he said with a nod, before his hand came to rest on your back again.Â
âHow⊠How are you?â Frankie asked and you shrugged.Â
âAlmost there. My due date is next week so⊠Any day now,â you said and he nodded.Â
âI⊠I got your text. I wanna talk. I justâŠ.â he ran a hand through his hair.Â
âI have to bring him, if thatâs okay,â he gestured down to the sleeping child.Â
âWhatâs his name?â you asked softly.Â
âMateo,â Frankie said with a small smile as he looked down.Â
âItâs okay to bring him, but why? Canât you leave him with⊠with your wife?â you asked. Frankie looked briefly at Marcus before he looked at you before he shook his head.Â
âSheâs⊠He came early, got out of the hospital only yesterday and there were complications during the delivery andâŠâ Frankie shook his head, clearing his throat.Â
âI canât leave him,â he said, looking at you.Â
You looked up at Marcus, whose hand ran around your back, resting on your hip, squeezing you softly.Â
âCome over for lunch tomorrow?â you began to speak. Marcus nodded at you and you looked at Frankie.Â
He nodded at you.Â
âOkay. Weâre⊠Weâre home all day. Just come over around lunchtime. So⊠So we can talk,â you said.Â
âIâd⊠Iâd like that,â he nodded. Frankie looked down at Matteo just as he blinked his eyes open. You smiled softly. He was really cute.Â
âSee you tomorrow then,â you said and Frankie looked at you.Â
âSee you tomorrow,â he whispered before he slowly pushed his cart forward and walked away.Â
You stood there for a couple of moments gathering your thoughts before you looked up at Marcus.Â
âDo you thinkâŠ?â you whispered. He sighed.Â
âIt sounded like itâŠ.â
Marcus pulled you against his chest, kissing your forehead as tears sprung to your eyes.Â
âLetâs go home,â you whispered. He nodded, taking your hand, leaning down to kiss you softly.
He didnât let go of your hand until you went to bed and you fell asleep in his arms. Safe.Â
#my fic#Frankie Morales x fem. reader#Marcus Pike x fem. reader#Frankie morales#Pedro pascal#Marcus pike#fanfiction#fanfic#fan fiction#aaaangst#all the angst
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"7.44 am" MarcusPikexwife!reader
Summary: It couldn't be Marcus. Marcus' body was warm and soft... Made for cuddling. That body you were looking at was cold and stiff. Even his face was different... You fell to your knees and started screaming: "He's not my husband!"
Warnings: ANGST, temporary death, pain, suffering after loss, mourning, depression, angst, hurt/comfort
"7.44 am"
"You've got a hold on me, I've got a hold on you You can't let me go, I can't let go of you It's in the air I breathe, it takes over me I can't let you go"
*
You felt a warm kiss on your cheek. His stubble tickled your skin and you giggled. Your husband, Marcus, always kissed you before leaving the house, even if you were sleeping. It often woke you up, but it never bothered you. You opened your eyes and yawned. He gave you a sweet smile.
"I have to go to work now. Have a nice day."
You stroked his cheek with your hand.
"See you later, darling."
Marcus kissed your cheek one last time and smiled. His silhouette disappeared behind the door. You looked at your watch. It was 7:44 a.m. It was too early to get up, so you turned over and went back to sleep.
If you only knew...
Over an hour later, you got up and started your day. You found a note from Marcus on the kitchen counter: "We're out of toast, but I'll buy it on the way back... And I'll buy your favorite jam â„"
You smiled to yourself. Your husband was the sweetest man in the world. He knew how to make you feel better even when he was away from home.
You made yourself some coffee, turned on your laptop, and started working. A few hours later you heard the doorbell and you were a little surprised. You didn't order anything, you didn't wait for anyone... You reluctantly stopped what you were doing and opened the door.
When you saw the two FBI agents and their faces, you knew it. You just knew... The worst day came. That was supposed to be just a nightmare, but it became true.
"How?" That was all you could say.
They suggested you sit on the couch and wanted to bring you some water, but you refused. You just wanted to know how... How did you lose your heart and soul?
They finally told you that Marcus was chasing a criminal in an abandoned warehouse. The killer he wanted to subdue had a gun, so Marcus pulled out his, but the gun jammed. The criminal shot him straight in the chest with a large-caliber weapon. Marcus didn't stand a chance. He bled out within minutes.
You wanted to scream, to cry, but you just stood there in shock. Marcus died because of fucking bad luck. Not because he was too slow or careless. The damn gun just must have jammed.
"I want to see him."
They tried to convince you that it was a bad idea, that it was unnecessary. The others recognized him, so you didn't have to identify the body, but that wasn't what you wanted.
You just had to see him... You had to touch him, believe that... That he was gone.
An hour later you stood in the morgue and couldn't believe it. It couldn't be Marcus. Marcus' body was warm and soft... Made for cuddling. That body you were looking at was cold and stiff. Even his face was different... You fell to your knees and started screaming:
"He's not my husband!"
You didn't remember what happened next. Someone picked you up. Someone took you home. Someone asked if you needed help, but you said no.
When you got home, you couldn't eat or drink anything. You grabbed Marcus' shirt from the laundry basket and laid down on the bed. You pressed your face into the fabric, breathing in your lover's scent, and cried. It was so long and so hard that you fell asleep from exhaustion.
You woke up the next day and looked at your watch, it was 7:44 a.m. You sat up in bed abruptly, still holding onto your husband's shirt tightly.
"Marcus!"
You waited for a few moments until you realized he wasn't coming. What happened the previous day was not a dream.
You wanted to cry, but you had no tears left. You stood up and started walking around the empty house full of your husband's things. His tie over the chair, his perfume in the bathroom, his jacket on the hanger, the book he was reading the day before...
Everything was overwhelming you. This emptiness. This silence.
You didn't have any children and at that moment you wondered if that was better or worse. You weren't against having children, but you just weren't trying hard to get pregnant either. You always said, "Whatever will be."
Maybe you'd be better off if you had a piece of Marcus with you. If you knew that everything didn't disappear with your loved one.
You shook your head... You wouldn't want to see your children suffer. You were sure that Marcus would be the best dad in the world, so losing him would be terrible for the children.
You sat down on a chair in the kitchen and started looking around. Your chin began to quiver as you remembered all the times Marcus had cooked for you.
When he made you breakfast. When he served you coffee with a smile and laughed at you when he saw how sleepy you were.
He often made dinner and sometimes you felt guilty about it. After all, you stayed at home all day, but he always said: "You have work... You work at home, but it's still work. Besides, I like cooking for you."
In fact, was there anything Marcus didn't like?
He loved to spoil you, make you laugh, comfort you, cuddle you...
You felt a tightness in your chest and you just fell to the floor, crying. Why was your heart still beating?
You finally pulled yourself together and started preparing the funeral.
Two days later, on the day of the funeral, you woke up at 7:44 a.m. Likewise the day before, and two days before that. It didn't matter that you didn't sleep all night, you still woke up at this particular time.
And of course, you couldn't sleep. Marcus always had a solution for your insomnia. He told you to curl up in a ball. He cuddled up to your back and hugged you tightly. One of his hands caressed your face. He brought his mouth to your ear and whispered sweet words. Sometimes they didn't make much sense, but they sounded like a spell. "My sweet wife... I love a moment like this so much... You are my peace... I would go through hell to find you... My treasure..."
It always helped you and before you knew it you were falling into a deep sleep.
You sighed heavily and got out of bed. The funeral wasn't supposed to start until 2 p.m., but what was the point of lying in an empty, cold bed?
You went to the bathroom and almost didn't recognize your own reflection. You were pale, your eyes were puffy, your lips were chapped, and your hair had lost its former shine and was now dull. But you didn't really care about your appearance anymore. You felt this terrible emptiness and rage. Rage at the world. Some women spend 20, 30, or even 40 years in unhappy marriages. And their abusive husbands die as old men. You had the perfect husband. Loving, patient, sweet... A husband who respected and adored you. And you lost him, after only 3 years of marriage.
And yet you wouldn't trade those three years for anything.
And you were going to hold on to that thought throughout the funeral. Some women will never be as lucky as you. They will never be filled with as much love throughout their lives as you felt during these few years with Marcus. And yet, some women were able to reject it.
When you saw HER in the cemetery, you felt furious. Yes, you promised yourself you would stay calm, but you couldn't. You knew how much Teresa hurt Marcus. The first time he told you about her, he was devastated and you wanted nothing more than to hug him. You promised yourself you would never hurt him like that. You will be his shield. You will protect him from breaking his heart. And it didn't matter that Marcus was dead. You were still going to defend your husband.
You quickly walked up to her and the man who, as you realized, must have been the one she had so cruelly abandoned Marcus for.
"Get out of here," you growled without thinking.
Teresa looked at you surprised.
"What? I'm sorry, but..."
"Get out of here!" you said louder, getting other people's attention. "I don't care why you came here. You never deserved even a shred of his affection. He was so wonderful... Too loving and tender and you rejected him! You broke my husband's heart!"
When you said the last sentence, Teresa realized who you were and gasped.
"I'm sorry."
She grabbed her partner's arm and started walking away. You felt so relieved. But you're not done yet.
"Teresa?"
The woman turned around, looking at you with something akin to hope.
"Thank you." She raised her eyebrows in surprise and before she could say anything you added, "Thank you for being stupid enough to leave someone as wonderful as Marcus."
Then you just turned around and walked towards the coffin. You felt a sense of relief that Teresa was gone. You weren't sure if there was an afterlife. But if it existed, then Marcus' spirit didn't deserve to look at the woman who had broken his heart.
After the funeral, you thought it would be easier. That's what they told you. One chapter closes and another opens. But nothing has changed for you. You spent the next few days the same way. You wandered around the house looking at things that belonged to Marcus. You even sprayed his perfume on the bed to give the illusion that he was still with you. And you kept waking up at 7:44 a.m. You were really starting to hate this hour. It was like some kind of curse.
A week had passed since the funeral when, as usual, you woke up at 7:44 a.m. And as always, for a split second, you felt a glimmer of hope in your heart. Maybe this is all just a bad dream? You sat up on the bed and rubbed your eyes. You were ready to shed more tears when you heard a very tenderly voice.
"Good morning, Sweetheart."
Your heart almost jumped out of your chest. With wide eyes, you looked at Marcus, who was standing on the doorstep of your bedroom, looking at you with those sad puppy dog eyes.
You didn't even know when you jumped off the bed and found yourself only two steps away from him. You reached out and touched his chest to make sure he was real. When you felt his strong and warm body, you whined.
"M... Ma... Marcus?" you uttered.
He placed his hand on yours.
"Yes, baby... I'm alive. I'm sorry, I..."
You couldn't contain your emotions anymore and started sobbing pitifully. Marcus immediately pulled you to his chest and hugged you tightly. He started kissing your head.
"I'm sorry, honey. I'll explain everything..."
You felt a surge of anger and started hitting his chest with your hands and screaming:
"I hate you! I hate you! I hate..."
You started to wail and clung tightly to his body. Marcus began to rock you gently and whispered:
"I know, baby. I deserve all this rage. I know it was terrible for you..." He took a deep breath. "I know it won't change anything, but... My heart broke when I thought about how you were hurting."
You finally lifted your head and touched his cheek tenderly.
"But how? Why? I... I saw your body... your face..."
Marcus gently wiped the tears from your cheeks and led you to the bed. He sat down next to you, still wrapping his arm around you.
"This has been planned for months. A body that best matches me was found and kept in the morgue, and the face... A perfect cast of my face and mask was made. And the right lighting..." Marcus sighed heavily. "Anything so everyone can see it's me."
You looked at him, confused. It made and didn't make sense at the same time. You were missing something very important in this puzzle.
"But why?"
Marcus leaned down and kissed your head gently.
"Do you remember the case of that serial killer who killed women in important positions? Those who were independent and... Acting against stereotypes."
You sniffed and nodded.
"That fucking chauvinist and misogynist? Yes. It's hard to forget."
A smile appeared on Marcus' face for a second at your words.
"He started obsessing over me. He was exchanging emails with me and it was driving him crazy that I didn't agree with him... And..." You saw Marcus starting to get flustered. "It wasn't just about me. He found out about you."
You felt an unpleasant shiver run down your spine and you instinctively snuggled closer to your husband's body. Marcus wrapped his arms around you protectively.
"I didn't tell you anything not to upset you, but... You were under special protection."
"Okay... So what next?"
"Half a year ago, he suddenly disappeared. He stopped sending messages. He disappeared when he realized that we were on his trail, but..." Marcus gently stroked your hair. "I couldn't just let it go. Mainly because of you. I had to catch that bastard... And then, with the help of psychologists who analyzed his messages, I realized that there was one thing that would bring him from hiding."
You looked at Marcus and whispered, "Your death."
Marcus nodded and you looked at him sadly. You were happy that he was alive, but at the same time, you also felt hurt.
"Why didn't you tell me anything? Why didn't you warn me?!"
You couldn't control your voice, but Marcus understood you perfectly. He started rubbing your back soothingly.
"It had to seem as natural as possible. We knew he would be watching you and if he felt even the slightest bit of doubt, he would... He would back off. Even I didn't know the exact day when that would happen." Marcus sighed heavily and closed his eyes for a moment. You saw that he felt a huge sense of guilt. "I know how cruel it sounds... I know I used you. I... I won't be surprised if you want a separation or..."
His voice was shaking and you immediately cupped his face and smiled softly. Yes, you were angry and hurt, but... It was Marcus. Your Marcus.
"Don't be silly. I'm happy it was all false. And... I won't hide how much you hurt me, but I see you had your reasons. Just... No more faking death."
Marcus chuckled, his eyes welling with tears.
"Oh God, you are the perfect woman. The most wonderful and I swear I will do anything to make up for the pain I made you feel."
"But it worked? Did you catch him?"
"Yes, my love. He will never threaten us again. He will not threaten you or any other independent and brave woman."
You kissed him tenderly and then said a little more sternly:
"You have to promise me something." Marcus nodded eagerly. At that moment, he was ready to promise you anything. "From now on, you will always be by my side at 7:44 a.m. At this time, you are always supposed to kiss me and hug me. I don't care if I'm asleep... Or if you're asleep. You have to do it. Do you understand?"
Your request seemed extremely strange to him, but he didn't dare to refuse you.
"Of course, honey, but if... If I really can't?"
"If you really need to be away from home, you are to call me at this time or send a text message."
Marcus hugged you tightly and kissed your forehead. "I promise that I will always kiss and hug you at 7:44, and if I really need to be away from home, I will call you or text you."
You sighed in relief and rested your head on his chest. Marcus was silent for a moment, and then in his gentle and tender voice he said:
"Let me take care of you. I know the last few days have been a nightmare for you. How about a hot bath? I bought your favorite scented bath salts and candles. And then I'll make you breakfast... I've been gone for a week and a half and you look like you haven't eaten for a month."
You didn't have the strength to argue with Marcus. Besides, you really missed his concern. So you nodded and he immediately ran to the bathroom to get everything ready. Then he picked you up bridal style and carried you to the bathroom. Throughout your bath, he knelt by the tub and looked at you with adoration. He kissed your hands and kept whispering, "I'm sorry."
Then he helped you dry and get dressed. It doesn't matter how many times you said you could do it yourself. He just wanted to take as much care of you as possible. He carried you to the kitchen and sat you down at the table. He prepared your favorite breakfast and coffee, then watched you eat with a wide smile on his face.
You felt all the stress and pain from the last few days slowly leaving you. And Marcus wasn't going to stop. After breakfast, he carried you to the living room, sat you on the couch, turned on your favorite series, and wrapped you in his arms.
The old smile slowly started to appear on your face. Marcus' warm and soft body made you feel blissful and you were even about to take a nap when you remembered something.
"Oh my God..."
Marcus looked at you worried.
"What happened, honey? Are you in pain?" he asked in a worried voice.
"No, I..." You felt embarrassed and said quietly, "I may have caused a bit of a scandal at your funeral."
Marcus's eyes lit up and he chuckled, "You mean how you snapped at Teresa and told her she never deserved me?"
Your eyes widened and you pulled away from him to slap his chest.
"Did you see that?!"
Marcus couldn't stop laughing. He cupped your face and kissed you passionately.
"It was beautiful, my love. Thank you. Believe me, the other agents had to hold me by force because I wanted to run to you and fall at your feet."
You rolled your eyes and another thought came to your mind: "Wait, did... Did she know you were alive?"
Marcus nodded. "Yes... I'm sorry. But, I thanked her too."
You raised your eyebrows and he kissed your cheek tenderly. "I thanked her for breaking my heart and breaking up with me because thanks to it I found the most wonderful woman in the world. A woman who made me realize that if I were her husband, I would never feel such a blessing."
You looked at him with love and could only whispered, "Marcus, I love you."
Marcus kissed you again and whispered into your mouth, "I love you, my perfect wife."
You smiled and hugged him again, closing your eyes.
Maybe not all husbands played dead to get a serial killer. And they didn't cause pain to their wife, but...
Marcus was still perfect for you and you didn't regret anything. You didn't regret any moment spent with him.
"You've got my heart and I've got your soul I cannot, I cannot Shut out your light or drown out your call I cannot let you go
You get lost in me, I get lost in you And there's a trace of me mapped out in you"
*WILDES - Let You Go
A/N: Okay, so Marcus' death was supposed to be real at first, but... I couldn't! đ I felt like I shot a puppy... đ„ș So maybe faking death is cheesy, but oh well. I love my FBI husband too much.
#pedro pascal#pedro pascal characters#marcus pike#marcus pike and you#marcus pike x reader#the mentalist#fanfiction#angst#hurt comfort#marcus is too sweet#don't be angry at him
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Something impulsive | joel miller x f!reader x marcus pike, 7.1k
Summary: The distance between you and Joel grows. You decide to give Marcus a chance. A chance encounter shifts the balance between you and the two men.
Warnings: 18+ MDNI, image just for aesthetic purposes, reader does not have a description, angst, slow-burn, insecurities, first date nervousness, flirting, sexual thoughts, kissing, Joel still being a prick, Joel still being an idiot (bear with him) dog piss (bear with me, too), as always let me know if I missed anything!
A/N: And here I was, thinking that this time I'll keep it short. Who am I kidding. Thank you for taking the time to read anything I write! Love you all!
P.S.: Credits for the final scene go to @jessthebaker and this hilarious comment that I just had to include in the chapter:
Dividers by @cafekitsune & @thecutestgrotto
Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist
previous |
Radio silence.
That is what you would call it.
After your last encounter, you haven't seen or heard from Joel for two long weeks. No text, no phone call, nothing. Were you entering the winter phase again? Most likely.
You regretted the way you had challenged him that night. It wasn't really your style, but that's what happens when you bottle things up. Especially things like desire and longing. Eventually, they erupt like a fucking volcano after a long hibernation. Brutally. And yet you haven't got an ounce or a reaction. Something. Anything at all.
You were terrified that your friendship had been broken. You could have texted him. You should have. You felt it was all your fault anyway. You should have apologized. But you were angry. And selfish. And deep down you blamed him for your reaction, for making you feel helpless, a pawn in his hands.
But was that the case? And can you really blame anyone for your own actions? You were responsible for the way you reacted. You could have done things differently. You knew that. But you did not want to admit that to him.
Whether you were angry or not, you missed him all the same. You missed his presence, his voice, his scent. You missed the sound of his name on your tongue. The warmth of his irises and the softness in his eyes when he looked at you. And boy, did he look at you.
He may not have been a man of many words, but sometimes, just sometimes, his gaze spoke louder than any voice in the room. That's how you got into this mess in the first place.
One evening, on your day off, you hang out with Trish at your place. You needed the company, being alone with your thoughts for too long wasn't a good idea. The two of you sit on the sofa, drinking beer and eating pizza straight out of the box. You had already put your girls to bed and this was your happy hour.
"Are you dating Marcus you little weasel?"
"Where did that come from?", your eyes widen in surprise.
"Joel asked me the other day.", Trish reveals, laughing under her breath.
"WHAT?" you squeal in disbelief. Joel was not the type to ask about other people's private matters. Especially yours and especially to his cousin. "OK, please, elaborate."
"He asked me if youâre seeing him.", she continues.
"When did this happen?", you try to draw an imaginary map in your mind, gathering all the information available to you to understand what might be going through his mind.
"A few days ago, maybe?" she says nonchalantly.
"He asked that explicitly? Those were the exact words he used?", you insist like a hound dog looking for clues.
"Of course not." Trish rolls her eyes, "He danced around it for a while, but I pretended I didn't know what he was talking about -which I obviously don't- and then I made him ask directly."
"Oh god, give the poor man a break!", you exclaim, you could only imagine what a menace could she be when she wanted to.
"Well, are you?"
"No, Iâm not. But if he asks again tell him I am."
"Why?", she frowns but looks amused at the same time. Oh, she's up to something.
"So he will leave me alone." Well he already kind of did, but maybe it was for the best to cut the ties once and for all.
"What do you mean? Is he bothering you?" Trish insists, curiosity sparkling in her eyes.
"No- he's- it's not- uh-" where would you even start, it's all a fucking mess, anyway. "Forget I said anything-" you try to end the conversation, but-
"I might have kind of implied that, though?" Trish wrinkles her nose, trying to minimize the damage.
"WHAT?"
"Only because he looked desperate" she rushes to explain, "and honestly you two should really fuck each other. So I thought maybe I could spice things up a bit."
A minute or two passes before you answer her. All this information bombarding your mind left a paralyzing feeling in your mouth. He looked desperate? Why the fuck? Was this the classic 'I want what I can't have'? He wasn't that type. And he could have his way with you if he wanted to. Couldn't he? Did he get the feeling that you weren't interested? What more could you have done, he was the one who went cold and hot all the time. "It's not like that." is all you say.
"The hell it isn't." Trish quips, almost offended.
"We don't want the same things Trish, and I won't make the same mistakes again." you draw the line. "What did he say?", you ask without shame, because you just have to know, even if it hurts you.
"Oh, you know, he put on his usual 'Joel grumpy face' and walked out on me. But honestly, what did you expect?" she shrugs and continues, "So, if 'it's not like that'", she air-quotes you mockingly, "why don't you give Marcus a real chance? He's a good guy and I don't often say that," Trish points her finger at you.
"I'm sure he is Trish, but I can't."
"And why is that?"
"Because it's not honest."
"To whom?"
"To him."
"And..?" she presses you.
You close your eyes, because you really don't want to say it and it feels frustrating but comforting at the same time to have a friend who knows you so well. "And to my heart.", you mumble coyly.
"Oh, baby c'mere. You really like my stupid cousin, don't you?" Trish wraps her arms around your shoulders, squeezing you into a tight hug.
"No, I do not." It's more than that. "And don't push it any further, it's not happening.", it's your turn to point the finger at her.
"Ok.", she sighs troubled. "Ok, look at me and listen carefully.", she makes a serious face, holding your hands in hers as she begins. "Joel's my cousin and he is a good man and I love him, but he has his own issues to deal with-"
"What do you mean?" You interrupt her curiously. You never thought to ask about his past before, it seemed invasive.
"Itâs not my place." she cuts you off with a guarded look that seems so foreign on her face and continues, "The point is, you cannot wait for him forever."
"I'm not-" you start to deny it, but Trish grabs your face in her palms, squeezing you gently to make her point and you stop mid-sentence.
"You deserve to be happy. And you can't miss something you've never had." her eyes bore into yours, full of care and concern.
Her last words strike you like a slap on the face.
Oh, but you can. You already are.
Another two weeks have passed and you still haven't heard from Joel. He's stuck in your head like a virus, unable to think of anything else. This is the longest you've gone without talking. It's taking its toll on you, making you fidgety and jumpy, irritated by the simplest things. You've reached your breaking point and you're ready to call him, just to see if he's OK.
And, if you're honest with yourself, to give him a chance to make a move. He might think you don't want him to reach out. That thought makes you even more angry, you sound so pathetic in your head, begging for a man's attention. A man who has never made his intentions clear. You should stand up for yourself, hold your own.
You're at the office, shuffling through your bag, looking for your phone, still debating whether to call him. As you reach deep into your bag, searching through the million things you stuff in there, you feel a hard, papery thing on your fingertips. You fish it out and see that it's Marcus' card. You don't even remember putting that thing in there. But you remember him giving it to you.
He was such a gentleman and so thoughtful that night. He didn't ask for your number and he didn't press to put his on your phone. He gave you his card, clearly stating that he hoped you would get in touch with him.
"..why don't you give Marcus a real chance?.."
You take a deep breath and unlock your phone.
"..You cannot wait for him forever.."
This is it.
"..You deserve to be happy.."
You're going to call him. Right now? Yes, right now.
He picks up after the third ring.
"Agent Pike.", his voice deep and smooth, runs like honey in your ears. You remember how much you liked the sound of it.
Youâre taken aback for a moment, you'd almost forgotten what he did for a living. It was strange but interesting to hear him like that, it stirred something in you. "Uh- um-" you lose your train of thought for a second, "hi- I don't know if you rememb-"
Marcus says your name instantly, the surprise evident in his tone. "I was beginning to think you'd either lost my card or I'd made a terrible, terrible first impression on you," he says with a soft laugh, vulnerability coloring his voice.
"No, no, god- no, nothing like that.. It was really nice to meet you!" you reassure him, because it really was.
"Yeah, you too.." Marcus replies and you can hear the smile in his voice. He doesn't say anything else, giving you time to collect yourself.
"I just-" you squeeze your eyes shut, trying not to freak out, pinching the bridge of your nose with your fingers, you hadn't planned this, "I've been really busy, with work and the kids, I haven't had a chance to..." the words catch in your throat as you think of the real reason you've been busy.
Obsessing over unavailable men.
But you don't want to lie to Marcus, he's been so kind and open, so you pause, looking for a way out of the hole you've dug yourself into.
"Hey, it's OK," Marcus takes the lead, sensing your discomfort, "you didn't have to call, but I'm really glad you did. I thought about getting your details from Trish in case you lost my number, but then I didn't want to force you into anything in case you didn't lose my number, you know?" he laughs timidly.
"Yeah, I know; that is so thoughtful of you. I'm- I'm glad I called." It feels strange to admit something like that, something so small, to be honest, to be so open and talk about positive things, to make someone feel good with your words on a personal level. You've spent the last few years just doing it for your daughters, loving them, hyping them up, rooting for them, but it's a change that you welcome and you discover that you really, really missed it.
There's a short silence on the other end, which makes you feel anxious, so you decide not to bother him any more. "I'm sorry I called during office hours, I-"
"No, no, no, don't even think about it, there are no office hours at my line of work anyway, so.." Marcus rushes to put you at ease. "I was just wondering if I should ask you out or if I'm jumping the gun," he blurts out and you can feel his hesitation through the phone.
"Well," you try to lighten the mood, "you're the one asking questions for a living, so why don't you earn your keep?" you bite your lower lip in anticipation and then snicker to yourself. You hear Marcus laughing, amused and impressed by your little stunt, and you have a deep desire to hear it again, knowing that it's your doing.
Marcus is not one to shy away from a challenge, so he delivers quite brilliantly. "It would give me great pleasure if you would go out with me," he says your name softly at the end, "I know it can be tricky with the girls and work and all that, but I'm sure we could work something out; my office hours are very flexible," he informs you, cleverly covering all your possible obstacles.
"I thought you didn't have office hours..." you return playfully, feeling lighter already, the thought of Joel still lingering, but the pain of it fading in your heart.
"For you I do." Marcus deadpans with an amazing ability to not make it sound cheesy. And you know exactly what kind of ability it is.
The one of honesty.
Your heart is in your mouth. You're sure of it. You can taste your heartbeat on the tip of your tongue. As much as you've tried to play it down, you're nervous, your stomach is in knots. You spend most of the evening whining to Trish on the phone, freaking out about what to wear and ending up with a "What does it matter anyway? It's one date and that's it, he's not sticking around. Yeah, he's not. I'm good, I'm fine, this is fine." you shrug as you look at yourself in your bedroom mirror.
Trish's voice brings you back to reality, "None of that, everything's going to be fine, you're going to have a good time and you're going to keep having a good time." You looked sideways at the phone as if Trish could see you through it, glancing at the time. "Ok Trish, thanks for the pep talk, but I have to go or I'll be late."
"Sure thing babe, have a great night-"
"Thanks Trish-" you speak over her voice sure she's done with the pleasantries, but-
"-and don't forget to fuck 'im."
The line goes dead before you can reply.
Jesus Christ.
"You got this. You got this. You got this," you chant to yourself, pacing the living room, checking the time on your phone every thirty seconds. "Yeah," you exhale with nervous conviction, "you got this." The doorbell rings and your stomach clenches. Conviction my ass, "No, you don't." you mutter before rushing to answer the door.
Your heels click on the wooden floor and you pin the hem of your dress down once more, just to be sure. It wasn't terribly short, but still, you haven't dressed for a date in God knows how long.
You open the door and your breath catches in your throat. But you could say the same about Marcus. You look at one another for a moment, both admiring each other. He looks sharp, clean-shaven, with a prominent jawline that makes you want to suck on it from side to side.
His hair is combed back and slightly to the side. He looks so handsome and then he smiles at you. A real smile, big and toothy and bright and beautiful. His eyes crinkle and his plush lips stretch with the force of it. His suit is elegant and clean, neatly pressed, and the two top buttons of his shirt are undone, showing a hint of his tanned chest, making it more casual.
"Hey.." Marcus speaks first, pulling himself out of his haze. His eyes drink you in, unable to land on one spot, admiring your simple but elegant black dress that stops mid-thigh, the softness of your exposed skin, the curves of your body and the features of your face.
"Hi..." you say back shyly, noticing his admiration.
"I- Christ-", he stutters almost confused.
"What's wrong?" you fidget with the fabric of your dress, your nerves getting the better of you once again.
"I almost forgot how beautiful you are-" Marcus admits, his eyebrows raised, a hint of pink spreading across his cheeks. "-you look amazing," he compliments, raising his arm and pointing his open palm in your direction.
You pray that you can fast-forward to the actual date and stay right here on the threshold of your house at the same time. "Oh, thank you -" you reply quietly, with a shy smile on your lips.
"These-" Marcus raises his other hand, suddenly remembering what he's holding, "these are for you," he hands you a beautiful bunch of flowers, obviously made specifically for you by a florist, wrapped in a beautiful ribbon. What is it about this man that turns the most clichéd things into thoughtful actions?
"These are so beautiful, thank you, let me-" you point towards the house so you can put them in a vase, signaling him to come in with your head.
"Hope it's not too much..", Marcus wonders as he enters the hall of the house.
"It's perfect," you smile warmly as you return from the kitchen with the filled vase and place it on the entryway furniture, admiring the arrangement. You place the palm of your hand on his bicep, reassuring him as you turn to leave.
His eyes shine with appreciation as he takes your palm in his warm hand, planting a soft kiss on the pulse point of your wrist. His scent fills your nostrils, sweet and masculine, and you can almost smell his shampoo as he leans forward. Your lips part and your eyes widen at the intimate contact, but instead of feeling pressured, all you want is for him to do it again on any part of your skin he likes. His plush lips are warm and soft, leaving the slightest trace of moisture as they part your skin, sending a wave of shivers through your body.
You stifle a gasp but you can't hide the dilation of your irises and he can't hide the hunger behind his. He cups your cheek in his hand, stroking your cheekbone with his thumb. "Ready?" he asks in a hushed tone.
"As I'll ever be."
The drive is bathed in bits of small talk and comfortable silence, appreciating each other's presence without having to fill the quiet of the cabin every second. Marcus' gaze is split between the road ahead and you at his side. He drives with one hand, his right resting comfortably on the gearbox.
God, you're such a cliché, noticing the way his broad palm rests there, the veins bulging between his fingers and on his hand and it makes you squirm in your seat. Your date hasn't even started yet and you're already feeling uncomfortable in your underwear. Are you that needy? Or is it him? Is he doing this to you?
Joel.
No, stop. Donât think about him. Not right now. Stop.
Joel.
No.
Joel.
NO.
You don't realize you're holding your breath until Marcus is asking if you're all right.
"What?" you snap out of your haze, jerking your head to look at him. He looks worried, his forehead forming a deep crease between his eyebrows. "I lost you there for a minute, what happened?"
"Nothing, nothing, I'm fine."
"You don't gotta do that, you know."
"Do what?"
"Say you're fine. You're allowed not to be."
You start to contradict him, but then you realize he's right.
"You're right," you admit, looking at him sheepishly. "I'm just nervous- and it's not your fault-" you hasten to explain, "I just haven't done this in so long that it feels like it's happening to someone else, like I'm watching myself from a distance."
He smiles at you knowingly and you add frustratedly, "That's so uncool, I'm sorry, I should be-"
"Moment of truth?" Marcus cuts you off before you can finish your thought.
"Um- OK?"
"I'm already hooked." he bites his lip, stealing a glance in your direction, his shoulders shrugging as if he had just told you the most natural thing in the world.
"Excuse m-" you look at him in bewilderment.
"I know I should play hard to get and do all the stuff everyone does on a first date, act cool and whatnot," he gestures in the air with his free hand, "but really? I'm hooked. Captivated. So-" he takes a deep breath, exhaling forcefully, "if anyone should be anything, it's me, scared that I'm going to screw this up, somehow. But you know what?" he looks at you expectantly, waiting for a response.
"What?" you manage to croak, your whole body buzzing with anticipation.
"I'm going to choose to enjoy this night by being myself-" he stops and scrunches his eyes in thought, "-well, ok, I'm going to hold back a bit," he jokes playfully, making you both laugh at that, relieving some of the tension and he takes your hand in his, squeezing it gently, "because I don't know if I'll get another chance. I can only hope that at the end of the night you'll choose to see me again."
He brings your intertwined hands to his lips and kisses your knuckles tenderly. He's said all the right things, everything you want to hear and dear God, he makes you want to climb him like a tree. You bite your lower lip so hard you're afraid you'll draw blood.
He studies your face and your fluttered expression for a moment, a smile of accomplishment painted on his perfect mouth, before he adds, "And you shouldn't be anything other than what you want to be. Neither of us should."
The date was not what you expected, because it was actually a success. Zero awkwardness, lots to talk about, mutual humor and gentle glances. You started with dinner in a not-too-casual-not-too-formal restaurant and ended up in a great bar, lively but not too loud, where you had delicious cocktails over and over again. Not Marcus though, because he was driving. So responsible, you wanted to sink your teeth into his neck.
Marcus was truly interested in you. He asked you about everything, he really wanted to know about your life. You didn't delve much into the divorce and he didn't push it. But you told him more about your background, your work, your daughters, the challenges of being a single mother and to your surprise, he listened. Actively. When you told him it was his turn to spill the beans, he told you about his job and his specialty; his move to Texas for a fresh start and when you asked him why he felt he needed one, he reluctantly told you about proposing to his girlfriend of two months.
"I know, I know-" he raises his hand in defence as he shakes his head in disbelief, "I don't know what the hell I was thinking, I guess-" he looks down at his empty glass as if searching for answers, "sometimes I have a hard time letting things go."
He dares to meet your eyes through his lashes, to study your reaction. But your expression is neutral, no judgment on your part. "But I'm working on it, letting things happen naturally, you know? If it's meant to be, it's meant to be." he shrugs casually.
"That must be hard for you to deal with." you observe.
"Why would you think that?" he seems curious to know what you think of him, smiling crookedly.
"You strike me as someone who really tries to work things out, to fix what's broken. You don't give up easily, do you?"
His eyes bore into yours as he confirms, "No, I don't," smirking at you. You break eye contact and look down at your lap, biting back a smile of your own.
Suddenly you hear your name being called and you scan the room to find the source. You see Tommy just a few meters away, coming towards you to say hello. Marcus looks between the two of you, his eyes finally landing on yours, catching your faltering smile. "Hey, Tommy, how are you?" you hug him gently and then introduce the two men.
"Hi, nice to meet you." Tommy holds out his hand as Marcus extends his own, "You too."
"Who's the lucky girl this time, Tommy?" you tease with a devilish grin as you wink at him.
"The lucky girl is actually my brother." Tommy laughs breathlessly and your face immediately falls as he points his thumb behind him.
Joel is there at the other end of the bar, sitting on a table, his gaze fixed on you, his whole posture stiff, his jaw clenched and his eyes hard on you. You raise your arm weakly and wave at him, and he nods back sternly.
Marcus misses absolutely none of this.
How long had they been there? How much did he see? Did you do anything inappropriate? you keep checking yourself for any flawed behavior. But then you realize that you don't have to answer to him or anyone else. You can do as you please. So why do you keep hoping you haven't let him down?
"You wanna join us? There's plenty of room, come on.", Tommy invites you to their table.
You feel your legs give out just at the thought of this gathering and you try to decline politely, "We wouldn't want to impose, it's OK-"
Tommy gives you a confused look, as if you haven't spent the best part of the last two years hanging out together. "What the hell are you talking about, love? Come on, move that ass of yours." he waves his head in their direction. You glance swiftly from Tommy to Marcus and then back to Tommy, hoping he'll get the message, but he doesn't. Damn it, Tommy.
Marcus notices your apprehension and puts the palm of his hand on your forearm, caressing your skin with his thumb.
"Are you OK? Do you want to go instead?" he says in a quiet voice, just for you to hear.
You almost jump at his suggestion, "No, no, I just don't want you to think I'm not having a good time with youâŠ" you lower your eyes, feeling vulnerable.
"Hey, hey, look at me." Marcus lowers his head to meet your gaze, "I think I'd know if this date was going south. But if for some reason it is and I'm too smitten to see it, I'm all ears." Marcus searches your eyes and you shake your head with conviction.
"It's not," is all you say, and you lean forward to place a kiss on his cheek, on the side of his face that is hidden from Joel's inspection. As if that would make what you just did any less obvious. Marcus' lips part, and he turns his head sideways to look at your profile, almost brushing it with his own.
His eyes linger on your mouth as you lean back to your seat, and then he licks his lower lip like a starving man preparing for his favorite meal. "Let's go meet your friends before I do something impulsive," he whispers in your ear, his grip on your arm tightening, his nose pressing against your temple and his lips brushing your earlobe.
Goosebumps spread across your skin and you have half a mind to get the fuck out of here and drag him back to your house. But instead you giggle like a schoolgirl and lead the way to hell, feeling the warmth of his hand on your lower back and the moisture of your pussy running down your thigh.
If a person could combust out of stillness, it would be Joel. You're not even sure he's breathing at this point. You train your eyes on his chest, trying to follow the rise and fall of his rib-cage, just to make sure he doesn't faint.
He's sitting directly opposite you, next to his brother, who's sitting opposite Marcus. He's nursing a beer with one hand, the other behind Tommy's seat. He barely speaks to you, he avoids looking at you and that makes you feel like youâre doing something wrong and he's giving you the cold shoulder. It takes everything you've got to swallow the lump in your throat and the tears behind your eyes, but you do it.
The same waitress who took your previous orders comes back and asks what you and Marcus are having. You order a beer, and before Marcus can place his own, Joel spits, "If you're driving her back, you shouldn't be drinking," giving him a disapproving look.
Your cheeks flush with embarrassment, your eyes dart from the waitress to Joel and then to Marcus, ready to apologize on his behalf. You knew Joel could be abrasive, but never so blatantly rude. Those were the first words he said to him.
Jesus, what is his problem?
Marcus seems to be able to handle his own, answering to you instead of Joel without missing a beat. "Good to know you have such protective friends," he says with a twinkle in his eye and then he orders, "I'll have the same as before, thank you.", shifting his gaze to the waitress. "One soda with a slice of orange coming up," she says politely and leaves to get your drinks.
You glare at Joel, but he doesn't seem to be paying attention, although he flinched almost imperceptibly when he heard Marcus' choice of drink. Marcus gives you a gentle kiss on the temple and you begin to suspect that he knows exactly what's going on between you and Joel, whose jaw is twitching at the sight of Marcus' public display of affection towards you.
You envy Tommy at the moment because he seems blissfully unaware, so you turn the conversation to him. Or at least you try, because as soon as you open your mouth to speak, Joel cuts you off and asks Marcus what he does for a living.
You can't help but think that after your first meeting in that godâs forsaken bar, it took him months to strike up a conversation with you, but tonight, for some reason, he just can't seem to shut up.
Marcus, being as polite as ever, gives him the general answer that he works for the government.
"Ah, a white collar," Joel replies condescendingly and your eyes bulge out of their sockets, "must be nice, relaxed." still not looking at you and God does he tick you off. Tommy shifts uncomfortably in his seat, stealing glances at you, not sure what's going on. In any other case you would have found it endearing. Not so much now.
You too are squirming in your seat, trying to think of a way out of this awkward situation. This is not how you imagined your first date would end. And it's certainly not how you expected to meet Joel after all these weeks.
Marcus seems unfazed by the veiled hostility coming his way, smiling back at Joel, almost enjoying the antagonism. "Not necessarily, but I can't talk about it either." This catches Joel's attention and he looks at you questioningly for the first time. You tilt your head slightly to the side, signaling what are you doing? but Joel takes his eyes off you, sipping his beer nonchalantly.
"What about you? What do you do for a living?" Marcus returns the question.
"We're contractors, me and Joel; we're brothers," he gestures between himself and Joel, "and we work together." Tommy chimes in quickly, having reached his limit of awkwardness at the table. You breathe a sigh of relief, but it's not long lived.
"And how do you all know each other?" is the next natural question to come out of Marcus' mouth.
Joel's eyes land on you briefly, something flashes past them and before you can stop him-
"She and I actually met in a bar..." Joel smirks at Marcus, but you speak at the same time-
"Joel-" Your voice is firm as a warning, fully accepting that your tone might be alarming to your unsuspecting company.
"What?" Tommy's voice falters, laughing uncomfortably, completely at a loss. Marcus reads the table, his eyes darting between the three of you, at the same time placing a protective hand over your shoulder, rubbing soothing circles with his thumb.
"What?" Joel repeats in a different tenor to his brother and he shrugs, smiling, "It's no big deal, tell them," he has the audacity to put you on the spot, nodding his chin at you.
You feel the contents of your stomach move up your esophagus, cold sweat coats your skin in a thin layer. Betrayal. That's all you can think of. "Uh-", you try to find the words, but nothing comes out, betrayal, you're not good at it, lying doesn't come easy to you, betrayal, especially with three sets of eyes on you. Joel just sits there with a smug look on his face and you wish you had the guts to slap it out of him.
Betrayal.
Marcus' voice brings you back to the present, are you all right?, a soft whisper caresses your ear and soothes your insides. The bile in your throat begins to return to its rightful place, but your eyes are already moist, your waterline glassy, a look of defeat and disappointment painted on your soft face. Joel sees it all written on those contours of yours that he has come to know and marvel at from afar, and it is as if a sudden realization hits him, snapping him out of his asshole behavior. He is cruel to you.
"All right, all right," he rolls his eyes and continues with a sigh, and Tommy's eyes return to his brother, but Marcus' remains fixed on you. "We met in a bar and we had a heated..." he stops abruptly and your face takes on a look of horror as he searches for the right word. "...argument." Joel finally adds. "We exchanged a few words, but then we ran into each other at my cousin's house and the rest is history." he laughs as he waves his hand in the air and winks at you.
You bite your lower lip as hard as you can to keep your chin from trembling, but a single tear of relief or suppressed anger, you're not sure anymore, escapes from the side of your face that only Joel can see, as you give him a forced, watery smile.
Luckily the bar is dimly lit, otherwise they would all be able to see the redness spreading across your chest, the rage manifesting itself on your body. Used and played is how you feel, and Joel is the last person you would have thought would put you in this position. You'd bet all your money on it.
"Why didn't you say anything?" Tommy wonders aloud, looking between you and Joel. You clear your throat and have no choice but to confirm Joel's lie. "It felt awkward at the time, so we pretended we didn't know each other. It was an unfortunate moment, one I deeply regret," you lock eyes with Joel and see his facade almost crumbling, "that will never recur, ever again." you continue to stare at him as you speak the last words with concealed bitterness. For the first time that night, he looked down at his lap in shame and regret, pretending to peel the label off his bottle with his thumb.
The ride home was silent, you were emotionally drained, something Marcus picked up on easily, so he simply offered his open palm, which you gladly accepted, tucking your fingers between his own. He continued to caress your skin, back and forth, and it was all you needed to calm your nerves.
As he walked you to the front door of your house, you felt compelled to apologize to him in a profound way. "I'm so sorry about Joel," you shake your head, looking down at your feet, your fingers scratching your forehead, a worried look on your face, "he can be intense sometimes -" why are you defending him?
Marcus lifts your chin with a gentle finger under it, his thumb caressing your jawline. "I don't care about Joel." With one simple sentence, he has erased him from your conversation. No more room for him to steal any longer of your night with Marcus.
âBut-â
âI'm the one standing on your porch right now am I not?â, the implication clear in his voice and words.
âI'm not sure what-â you try to avoid confirming or denying his assumptions.
"Mhm," he smiles knowingly, his eyes fixed on yours, searching for something. You feel safe with him, but you can't shake the feeling that you've ruined everything. Marcus' eyes drop to your lips and he slowly leans forward, stopping just inches from you, waiting for you to initiate. You can feel yourself unable to relax, your body stiff, frozen. But you want to, you really do, so you ask instead, "Are you going to do something impulsive now?"
He smiles and leans even closer to your lips, his breath gently fanning across your plump skin. His nose gently nudges yours, "Yes, I think I might."
Your lips almost touch when a muffled voice followed by loud barks startles you both, causing you to pull away and look around for the source of the disruption. After a few seconds, you both see a medium-sized dog running down the street. You wait to see if its owner follows, but no one appears. You turn to look at each other, giggling at the strange interruption.
Marcus caresses your cheek with the back of his knuckles and you lean into his touch, the moment gone and lost. "I hope you had a decent time because I know I had a great one and I really hope I get to see you again."
"Marcus," you scowl at him, "are you fishing for compliments?" you chastise him teasingly.
"Well, a man can dream," he smirks playfully as he tries to get some distance between you in case he comes on too strong.
"You don't have to," you coo, grabbing his collar to crush your lips against his.
After the initial shock, Marcus holds your head in his hands, tilting it to return the kiss and deepen it. His soft lips massage yours, sucking and nibbling at your lower lip. His upper lip and tongue capture yours, tugging gently, sending waves of pleasure through your body. He licks into your mouth, exploring every soft cavity, and you suck on his tongue in return.
He grunts into your welcoming cavern and you fist the fabric of his shirt that adorns his chest tighter. He presses his body into yours, trying to keep his pelvic area from pressing into your lower abdomen, but you can feel his growing erection inescapably.
You come up for air and murmur into his mouth, "I had a great time and I'd like to do it again".
This time it is he who presses his mouth to yours, kissing you fervently, sucking all the air out of your lungs. Your body is on fire, your abdomen tingling with desire.
You whimper against his lips as you reach for the short curls at the back of his neck, tugging them gently between your fingers, causing him to growl against your wet flesh, and he can feel your nipples poking at his chest through the thin material of your dress as you press your torso against his in sheer determination.
He's sure he's going to lose it and fuck you in front of your house for all your neighbors to see if he doesn't stop now. He breaks the kiss, panting, his eyes boring into yours, your foreheads touching. "Christ, woman," he closes his eyes and laughs to himself, "you're going to give me a heart attack."
"Better me than old age, right?" you try to hide your teasing smile behind your tightly pressed lips.
"Hey, I'm about to arrest you for threatening a government official," he warns without any conviction or authority.
"Are you going to handcuff me, Agent?" you ask, looking at him through your lashes and it comes out more breathless than it should.
"Jesus." Marcus mutters through his teeth, his resolve hanging by a thread. "OK." he gives you a sharp look, "I'm going to leave for the sake of both of us," he says, but his grip on your hip tightens, as if he's afraid you'll disappear.
"You could come in, you know," you offer, looking at him sheepishly.
His expression is pained when he has to turn you down. "And I'd like nothing more, but I want to do this right. Please, let me do this right." Marcus pleads softly, rolling his forehead over yours in desperation.
"What does that even mean?" you ask, a bit embarrassed by his rejection.
"Means I want to wine and dine you, spoil you, give you the perfect date," he coos into the soft skin beneath your ear, making you shudder at his soft promise. "And when you think you can't go another second without my touch, then I'll come in and spoil you some more," he continues, brushing his moist lips along the pillar of your neck. "I will spoil you in all the ways you deserve." he finishes, planting an open-mouthed kiss on your pulse point under your jaw. Your knees buck and your pussy contracts, squeezing out your sweetness at the feel of his warm and wet tongue.
"OK," you breathe out in a shaky voice, nodding dumbly, cupping his face in your hands and planting a small kiss on the tip of his nose.
He smiles and presses his lips to your forehead murmuring "God, you're something," and his heart swells at your tender gesture.
Marcus takes a deep breath, pauses and seems hesitant, but speaks his mind anyway. "OK, I'm going to skip the whole 'three day rule' and call you tomorrow. Is that OK?" he looks anxiously into your eyes, "Am I rushing you?"
A spontaneous laugh escapes your lips at the sound of that. "I just invited you into my house, you think a phone call is going to rush me?" you frown, "You can call me whenever you want.", you say matter of factly. You turn to leave, but change your mind and face him again. "Actually," you bite your lip mischievously, "I need to make sure I can rely on the American authorities, so I'm counting on your word. I'll be expecting a call by tomorrow," you stifle a grin by pressing your lips together.
"Yes, ma'am." Marcus nods in amusement and gives you one last kiss, pressing his lips to yours for as long as he can before ushering you into the house. "Good night," he breathes against your lips.
"Good night," you whisper back with a shy smile and close the door behind you. Marcus walks to his car with a stupid grin plastered on his face, gets in and drives away, but not before making sure you have closed and locked your front door.
In the stillness of the night, Joel takes a moment to assess the situation and satisfied that the coast is clear, he carefully emerges from the large bush he was hiding behind.
He glances down at his dog pissed shoe and mutters to himself,
"Fuck."
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Chapter 1-The Hot Expresso
Summary:
The Hot Expresso coffee shop is a place that FBI agent Marcus Pike holds near to his heart. It's there that he meets new friends and gets introduced to the owners daughter Abigail Rose. Now after a text saying that they need to meet, Marcus now fears that the Hot Express is where he will experience heart ache. He sends up a silent prayer hoping that its not the case and ponders on how he and Abigail got to the point where they are at now.
Warnings: No major warnings yet. Will mark chapters that do contain smut
Series Masterlist
Pedro Masterlist
Hello everyone! I'm back with a short series. This is my first Marcus Pike fic and I am so happy to share it all with you.
It was another cold and rainy day in Washington DC. The streets were unusually quite as people chose to stay in their warm houses versus venturing out in the hectic wind and rain. Only those brave souls that bundled up the best that they could were out roaming the streets either running errands or going to work.
The icy cold weather also meant that the various coffee shops around the city were busier than usual. People were rushing in before work to get their much need coffee fix, some coming into get a break from the cold air, and for some others, they were there to get away from the cruel world. The sounds of the milk steamer and the smells of freshly brewed coffee provided a sense of comfort for those lost individuals.
âThe Hot Expresso,â was one of those places for F.B.I. agent Marcus Pike. He visited this particular coffee shop quite frequently ever since he had moved there to head up an International Art Theft Task Force. He had stubbled in there one late afternoon looking for a hot cup of coffee to help wake his tired body. There, he met the owners Rafael and Rosemary who welcomed him and shared their history of how they came from Mexico to provide a better life for their growing family. They were amazing people and Marcus felt an instant connection to them. Soon they became great friends and he made sure that he visited the coffee shop every chance that he could get.
It became like a second home to Marcus. When work became too stressful or when he was tired of being bored at home, Marcus knew that he could come there to reset his mind and reenergize. He would order his usual black Americano, a chocolate donut, and head over to his booth in the corner of the shop, away from the rest of the other patrons.
Thatâs where he was now. Sitting there in his booth just sulking away. It seemed like for the past few weeks, the world appeared to be out to get him. First it was his job. For the last few weeks, Marcus had been working on a museum art heist that he couldnât seem to figure out. Every time that he felt like he was getting close to solving it, there would be a new twist and he would have to start all over again. Not to mention that his higher ups were tired of the lack of progress and were threatening to pull his team from the case and give it to someone else. He had a meeting with them on Monday to defend himself and his team.
Things at home werenât all that great either. After having to go out of the country for a few days to chase down a lead, Marcus had come home to hid that his upstairs neighbor had let their tub overflow which caused water to run down and flood his home office. He spent the last week trying to clean up the mess whenever he got off of work. Then this morning, he got word from his apartment manager that it was going to take weeks to repair all the water damage. However, between his work and his ruined apartment, those were the least of his worries. Right now, he was more concerned about what was going on between him and his beautiful girlfriend Abigail.
She was the reason why he visited the Hot Expresso as often as he did.
Flashback...
Marcus walked into the Hot Expresso feeling great. He and his team just solved a case that they had been working on for over a month. It wasnât without its fair share of ups and downs. They had lost their suspect for a few weeks which delayed things and he almost lost the perp for good tonight if it wasnât for him jumping out a window to tackle the perp to the ground. Now he was walking around sporting a new set of stitches across his cheek and his hand was wrapped up in a bandage. Not that any of that mattered though, because he got his guy and thatâs all that mattered. All he wanted to do now was get his favorite chocolate donuts for the morning and head home to get some much needed sleep.
As he walked into the Hot Expresso, Marcus noticed that it was filled with more people than he was used to seeing. The tables and chairs that were near the window were now pushed off to the side. He also noticed that a guitar and microphone had been set in that now empty space. This was very odd for sure. The Hot Expresso never had live entertainment before.
âAh Marcus, so glad that you could make it,â Rafael greeted him as he came around from behind the counter. âMy, what happened to you? Are you alright?â
âRafael, good to see you,â Marcus shook his hand. âIâm alright, thanks for asking. I just had a little accident at work. And speaking of work, this place is packed. Whatâs going on?â
âI know isnât it great! All of our friends and family came to see my oldest Abigail. She came home from New York finally. She has been studying music up and flew in this morning. My wife and I asked her to have a little performance here and she agreed,â Rafael said proudly.
From getting to know Rafael, Marcus knew that he had three daughters. Two of whom Marcus had met before as they either worked or visited the shop while their parents worked. However, when it came to Abigail, she wanted to explore and get out of DC until she was ready to come back and work for the coffee shop. Apparently, she had fallen in love with New York and hadnât been home for the past two years, until now.
âLook, here comes my baby girl now,â Rafael pointed her out to him as she walked out from the back with Rosemary.
When Marcus spotted her, he knew that he was done for. He felt his mouth almost hit the floor as he became entranced by her beauty. The way the lighting made her skin glow, the way the cool breeze from the window made her long brown hair flow, he loved it all. Marcus watched as she smiled at her mother, and he swore his heart stopped. Oh, how he wished that was him that was making her smile so big and bright. As she bent down to pick up her guitar, Marcus prayed that Rafael wasnât watching him stare at the way her dress hugged her curves. âMy god sheâs gorgeous,â he thought to himself.
Rafael then excused himself to go introduce his daughter, but Marcus was so hypnotized that he didnât even hear him leave. âLadies and gentlemen, thank you for coming out tonight on such short notice. Please help me welcome my beautiful, amazing, talented daughter Abigail Rose to the Hot Expresso.â
âThank you all for coming tonight,â Abigail smiled as the applause calmed down. âThis is a little something that I wrote recently and its my first time performing it, so I hope you really it.â
As she opened her mouth and began to sing, Marcus felt like he died and went to heaven. Abigail had the voice of an angel. It was almost enough to bring a tear to his eye. âSheâs perfect, absolutely perfect!â
Strumming away on her guitar, Abigailâs eyes began to wander over the crowd. She picked out a few people that she knew, mostly old friends, then out of nowhere, she spotted him. A stranger that she couldnât take her eyes off of.
He looked so handsome standing there in a dark grey suit. He looked so delicious with the facial hair that he was sporting. Abigail just wanted to run her hand across his bearded cheeks. There was no doubt in your mind that he was certainly older than you, but the combination of the patchy beard and the way his shaggy hair fell just about his eyebrow, gave him a boyish charm. Abigail also couldnât help but notice those big brown eyes of staring back at her. A blush came over the manâs cheeks as he knew that he had been caught. She didnât mind though. She just had to know who that man was. âMaybe dad can introduce us. Seemed like he knew him too.â
As her song came to an end, a massive roar of cheers and applause filled the coffee shop. A sense of pride came over Abigail as she could tell that everyone enjoyed her performance. âThank you all so much. I really appreciate all the love. If you just give me a few minutes, Iâll come back and do another one for you.â
Her father was quick to be by her side once she was done beaming with joy, âOh sweetie, that was amazing. Iâm so proud of you.â
âThanks dad. Iâm not going to lie, that was pretty scary, but Iâm glad that I did it,â she said giving him big hug. âListen dad, that guy that you were talking to earlier, who was that? Is he still here?â She looked around for the stranger but didnât see him anywhere.
A big smile came upon her dadâs face like he was waiting for her to ask, âOh that is my favorite customer, Marcus Pike. He works for the F.B.I. you know. Câmon, I think he went to go sit in his usual booth.â Rafael than led her over to where Marcus was sitting nursing a hot cup of coffee. âMarcus, so glad you decided to stay. Howâs the coffee?â
âAmazing as always Rafael,â Marcus smiled taking another sip. âThe entertainment was really good too. You must be very proud.â Abigail was smiling behind her father so Marcus couldnât see her.
âYes, yes, I am very proud. Speaking of which, I want you to introduce you to her.â Thatâs when Abigail came out from behind Rafael. âMarcus Pike, this is my daughter Abigail Rose. Abigail, this is special agent Marcus Pike.â
Both of them immediately got nervous with butterflies in their stomachs. They were both torn between being nervous and shy. Abigail was the first one to speak up after she got her courage back, âHello special agent, itsâs very nice to meet you.â
Ever the gentleman that he was, Marcus quickly got up out of his seat and extended his uninjured hand out to her, âYou can just call me Marcus. No need to get formal. Itâs very nice to meet you, Abigail Rose. That was an amazing performance.â
âThank you, Marcus, and itâs very nice to meet you too. And please call me Abby. My dad always feels the need to throw my full name around,â Abby rolled her eyes at her father.
âWhile I think Abigail Rose is a beautiful name,â Marcus complimented making her blush. âPlease have a seat. Can I buy you a cup of coffee?"
âMarcus, sheâs my daughter. She gets coffee on the house,â Rafael interjected.
Marcusâ cheeks grew red with embarrassment, âOh umm...yeah, right sorry.â âWay to go dumbass,â he yelled at himself.
âItâs alright not a big deal,â Abby smiled sympathetically while snapping a start at her father. âDad, do you mind getting me a tea then. I need something hot to drink before I go play again.â
Not needing to be told twice, Rafael rushed back to the counter to get his daughter some tea. Abby didnât fail to notice her father whisper something to her mother, who then gave them a thumbs up. They were both unbelievable.
âSorry about my parents. They can be a bit much sometimes,â Abby sighed in shame.
âEh donât worry about it. They are harmless,â Marcus smiled. âYou know, I would love to know about your singing. Your dad tells me that you have been in New York studying music?â
âUmm...yeah kind of. Iâm actually studying business, but Iâm minoring in music. As much as I would love to study music full time, itâs not very realistic. Besides, I donât think that I am good enough to actually make a career out of it.â
Marcus just looked at her in shock, âWhat, excuse me, but you canât be serious. You were incredible out there. If I didnât know any better, I would think that you have been performing for years. Youâre a natural.â
At first she thought that he was only saying that to be nice, but when she looked over into those big chocolate eyes of his, she could see something in him that told that he was telling the truth. âYouâre very sweet Marcus Pike, thank you. To be honest though, I have only performed three other times like this in public. I mostly just sing in my class or in the shower. If anything, I enjoy writing music more. Itâs very therapeutic.â
âWell, I hope you continue to pursue it then. Just because something doesnât seem practical doesnât mean that it isnât worth trying,â he told her.
âThatâs some great advice there agent,â Abby smiled knowing that his advice was valid. âIf the whole special agent thing doesnât work out, you should think about having a career in motivational speaking. Itâs probably safer too from the looks of it.â Now that she was closer to him, she was able to make out his injuries.
Marcus looked at the bandage on his hand and shrugged, âOh this? Itâs not that bad. Just a hazard of the job. Believe it or not, this is the first time I have ever gotten hurt on the job. The department that I work for isnât as dangerous as some of the others. Itâs mostly office work.â
âAnd what department would that be?â
âItâs much more exciting than it sounds, but I work in art crimes,â he winced. Normally this would be the time where his dates would tune him or find a way to change to change the subject. Everyone expected him to be like the FBI agents in the movies tracking down bad guys and getting into shootouts.
âAre you kidding that sounds amazing!â Abby said astonished. âDo you get to visit a lot of museums? Iâm a bit of a nerd and I like to go to museums for fun and hang out.â
âSheâs perfect, absolutely perfect,â Marcus beamed inside. âHey, there is nothing wrong with that. I do too. I love all types of art and museums are a great place to see all of it. I try to go to every museum in every city that I visit. And itâs not just art, I love anything old like movies and music too.â
Abby couldnât believe her luck. She liked all those things too. Marcus got better the more she spoke to him. She wanted to stay there longer and talk to him some more, but with all the people waiting for her to perform again, they were sort of on borrowed time. So, she decided to take a chance and put herself out there to see if they could continue whatever this was another time. âListen Marcus, I know that this may be a little a little bit out of the blue, but there is an art and film festival on Saturday that I heard about. You wouldnât wanna go, would you? ââPlease say yes, please say yes.â
âYou know what, I think that sounds like really fine. I would love to go with you,â Marcus smiled brightly. He wished that it was him who asked her out, but he would let that slide. âWhat time should I pick you up?â
âOh, you really donât have too. Iâm sure I can take the bus.â
âYes, I do please. You already beat me to asking you out, so the least I can do is pick you up.â
With his big puppy dog eyes staring back at her, there was no way that she could say no. âOkay fine. Iâll be staying at my parentsâ house till Tuesday when I fly back. Can I see your phone?â Without hesitating, Marcus handed his personal phone over to her. âHereâs my number. Feel free to text me whenever. Iâll give you my parents address on Saturday.â
Marcus quickly hit save when she handed it back to him. He was about to tell her how excited he was for Saturday, but Rafael came back with a hot cup of tea in his hand. âHere is your tea sweetheart. I also brough you some little fans too.â
He moved out of the way and two little girls who looked to be nine or ten approached. âHello there, what are your names?â Abby asked kneeling down in front of the girls.
âIâm Sarah and this is my little sister Emma. She is too shy to ask, but do you know any Taylor Swift songs?â
âYou know what Emma; I think I do. Which ones are your favorites?â
As Abby listened to the girls spout out a list, Marcus stared at her in awe. She was so soft and kind to them. She listened to every word they said and answered every question that they had. Sure, it could have been that she was the oldest of three girls and knew how to deal with younger kids, but Marcus could see that it was just the type of person that Abby was. He felt himself becoming more and more attracted to her the more he watched.
Once she was done talking to the girls, Abby stood up and gave Marcus a sympathetic smile. She wanted to sit back down and continue talking but she could see her mother impatiently waiting for her by her guitar. âGuess I better get going. Iâm sorry Marcus, I really would have liked to continue talking to you.â
âHey, itâs all right. I better head out too. The pain meds are starting to wear off a little,â Marcus winced. âIf you want me to stay though, I can. Iâm sure your mom has something that I can take.â
âNo, no please go home and rest. Iâm only gonna do a few more songs and then call it a night myself. Iâm super tired and a little embarrassed to be completely honest. I donât like being paraded around like this. If I want to perform, then I want to perform for myself, not because someone wants me to.âÂ
Marcus knew he was testing the waters, but he reached out and took her hand into his. âThatâs perfectly understandable. Sometimes parents can be so proud and want to everyone your greatness. It can be a little overbearing at times. If you wanna sing, then you sing. Donât let people make you do something that you donât want to do. Only you know what is best for you.â
Abbyâs eyes almost filled with tears. This man had such a way with words. âAre you sure you arenât a motivational speaker?â she joked. âThank you for that though Marcus. It means a lot.â
âDonât mention it,â Marcus winked at her. âYou have a great rest of your night Abigail Rose. Iâll see you on Saturday.â
âYou have a good night too Marcus Pike and please again, call me Abby,â she couldnât help but blush as he said her full name.
âCâmon Abigail, everyone is waiting for you,â Rafael once again interjected.
As Rafael pulled her away, she gave Marcus one last wave before turning her attention to the crowd waiting for her. For Marcus, even though he knew that she wouldnât get to see his text for a while, he pulled out his phone and sent her a quick text:
           It was very nice to meet you. Iâm glad that I stopped by tonight. And for the record, I like
           Abigail Roseâ
                       -MP
End of Flashback...
That night was one of the best nights of Marcusâ life. Even though they briefly talked and without even having to take her out on a date, Marcus truly felt like he had found his soulmate. Sure, he had his fair share of relationships where he thought he had found the one, but those turned out to be miserable failures. However, with Abby, he felt like things were different. He felt his heart become whole when he was with her. She made him belly laugh at the drop of a dime, she knew exactly what to say when he was feeling down or stressed, and she made him want to be a better person not only for himself, but for her too.
Lately though, Marcus felt that happiness and tranquility begin to disappear. It seemed that lately all they did was fight. Any little disagreement that normally would bother them would now turn into a huge fight. Marcus would end up staying late at work to avoid seeing her or talking to her and Abby just stopped coming by his apartment all together.
As Marcus sat there with a still full cup of coffee, he impatiently checked his phone for what felt like the hundredth time. Abby had texted him saying that they needed to talk. He immediately felt his heart drop. He knew Abby was on her way to break up with him, he just knew it. Even though he wasnât sure if he believed it at all, Marcus closed his eyes and sent up a silent prayer to anyone that was listening, âPlease donât let my bad feeling come true. I canât lose her. I just canât.â
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