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prettylilhalforc · 3 years ago

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Kalimera, my little half orc goddess! I am going to give you the lightest of prompts - yours to take in which ever direction you should choose.

I would like a Grecian goddess to run a beautiful café next door to the FBI in Washington DC, where she ends up serving an exhausted Marcus Pike. She initially serves him an Ellinikos Kaffés but looks at him and wonders if he couldn’t do with something a little sweeter - perhaps some tiganites?

Can’t wait to dig into your slice of this cutie pie!

Ok here it is! Could not resist the urge to write with a tinge of thirst in mind. God, I hope I haven't rolled a 1 and fucked this up ahahah!

May I present to you (oh lordy this is cheesy, but I FREAKING LOVE IT!)......

Loukomades and Longing

Synopsis: An exhausted Marcus Pike visits his favourite kafenio in the hopes of a caffeine fix. F!Reader does what any Good Greek Girl(tm) would do; thirst and try to fix the problem through sheer stubbornness and food.

Rating: Probably M

Warnings: F!Reader, White!Reader, Language, Suggestive Sexual Content, Significant thirsting.

Word Count: 1.38 k

Authors Note: Thank you to the wonderful @sarahjkl82-blog for this prompt and encouraging me to take the plunge!!!!!

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The first rosy fingers of dawn caress the bustling city skyline as the sun rises. Peering through the windows, the golden light paints the well-worn surfaces of the kafenio. Rickety wooden tables, stained with a thousand rings over the year and vinyl chairs that had seen better days.

A time capsule from an era gone by, handed down over three generations. Everything bar the kitchen sink (quite literally) was a relic. Each piece a chapter in the history of your family set since they sail from Kefalonia and settled in D.C. some 60 years ago.

It would be a beautiful sight to behold if it not for the fact that in approximately 2 hours the first rush of the day would be due and the small establishment would be full to the brim. Sighing, you roll up your sleeves, slap on your apron, and start preparing standard fare for the Monday morning rush.

The clock hits 06:45 and right on cue, there he is. One Marcus Pike. A gorgeous specimen of a man with honeyed skin, eyes as rich as coffee, and solid shoulders that bore the weight of the world. A goddamn modern-day Adonis.

It would be a bold-faced lie to deny that seeing him was the best part of your day.

Just about every day for the last 10 months, like clockwork, he’d be the first and last customer of the day. Long nights and early mornings. Banter flowed easily between the two of you, the epitome of kefi. His smile knocks the breath from your lungs and his laugh leaves you weak at the knees. The way that his cheeks dimple as you trade playful jabs warms you to your very core.

Justification enough to extend opening hours well beyond necessary.

You live for the moment when that first sip graces his lips. The sound that erupts from that mouth is pure sin.

It also be a lie to deny the fact that you often wondered what other noises could be pulled from him.

Not that you’d ever admit it.

Something wasn't quite right over the past month, though. You swear the man lived on caffeine and adrenaline alone. It was enough to make a gal worry.

“Kalimera Pike, the usual?”, voice far too bright for the early hours, bent double sliding the last tray of loukomades in the glass display.

Nothing but a gruff grunt escapes him, uncharacteristic, even for this time in the morning.

“Jesus man, écheis koimitheí akóma?! What lucky lady kept you up all night, huh?”, cheekily ribbing as you dust the powdered cinnamon sugar from your apron.

A bitter laugh escapes him, broad hand running over his face. Just like you to hit the nail on the head. It was two years to the day that Lisbon had left him to pick up the pieces of his heart back in California.

“That bad, huh?”, gently nudging him out of his stupor as you glide about, wiping down the table behind him.

“Nah, not exactly. It’s just… a difficult time of year.”, voice rough from a fitful night’s sleep, eyes darting everywhere but yours in attempt to avoid discussing the subject further.

It doesn’t escape you though. The misery writ across his handsome features is a plain as day. Out of the blue, a fierce protectiveness surged through you. Whatever had happened had shaken him deeply.

This simply wouldn’t do. Not if you had anything to do about it.

Straightening into the best impression of your yiayia you can muster, you sternly motion towards a table, “Katse.”

“Y/N…”, he sighs, shoving his hands roughly into his pockets.

“Marcus…” you childishly retort, deliberately cocking your hip in response. Two could play at that game.

Heat blooms in your cheeks as his eyes linger on you a fraction on longer than necessary.

A deep chuckle rumbles from his chest at your display. Why would expect anything but adorable defiance from you? Shaking his head, Marcus resigns himself and takes a seat “There’s no point trying to argue, is there?”.

“Nope,” you pop, “Know just what’ll do the trick to pick you right up.”, winking before skirting back around the counter.

Marcus’ eyes follow the sway of your hips as you glide behind the counter. Almost feeling guilty for indulging, almost. He would be kidding himself if said he wasn’t smitten.

10 months ago, after a botched stake out , a colleague at the bureau had dragged him bleary eyed to a café across the street. Claimed to have the best damn coffee in all of D.C. Marcus had scoffed, desperate to crawl into the warmth of his bed and sleep for days. But they were insistent, so he begrudgingly followed along.

And in the midst of the chaos, there you were.

Olive skin, dark hair and a luscious figure Aphrodite herself would be envious of. A stunning whirlwind, dancing around the crowded space full of boundless energy. The warmth that radiated from you completely had floored him. When your bright eyes, full of mirth and mischief, fell on his, he was an absolute goner.

That day forward he made every excuse under the sun to volunteer for the coffee run.

The smallest part of you was reeling, never had you been this brazen with the man before. Silently you will yourself to pull it together, you were a grown woman acting like a damn schoolgirl.

Mind back on task, you fall into a well-practiced routine. The rhythmic stirring of the briki enough to settle your nerves.

Marcus is a million miles away and you use the opportunity to slip past him, clattering two demitasses and a plate full of loukomades down as you slide into the chair across him.

His eyebrows shoot up in surprise, grumbling “Really, Y/N, this isn’t necessary. I don’t want to tie you up, you’re gonna be busy enough today. I can take ‘em to go.”

He swears that his heart stops when you cover his hand with yours.

“Marcus, when was the last time that you actually ate breakfast?”, you softly ask, hand gently squeezing his concern.

It takes him a beat to respond, the warmth of you sending his instincts floundering as he hastily spits out a lie, “Yesterday morning-”

“Bullshit,” you exclaim, folding your arms across your chest, “If you think I’m letting you out of here before you’ve had a decent meal Marcus…”.

Moments like these reminded him all over again why he had fallen so damn hard.

“Alright, alright! You got me!” holding his hands in mock surrender.

Shoving the plate forward, you laugh “Cross my heart that they aren’t poisoned, Theia Hrisoula would kill me if I botched the recipe.”, motioning at him to eat.

Eyebrow cocked, he looks at you wearily before indulging in the sugar coated, deep fried treat.

You all but choke on your coffee at the noise he makes. The sound that escapes him as his eyes close in ecstasy is positively obscene, leaving you clenching your thighs under the table.

“Christ, Y/N, these taste fucking incredible”, Marcus groans sucking his fingers clean of the cinnamon residue. For once in your life, you’re left completely speechless. Cheeks burning, a tiny whimper slips from your lips as you watch the sight before you. Thoughts devolving into pure filth.

“Paidaki mou? Pou eisai, prókeitai na kánete mia ilikioméni gynaíka na periménei ton kafé tis? Is that boy here again, the handsome one?!” a voice bellows from the back of the shop, snapping the both of you out of your daze. It’s your turn to groan now.

Speak of the devil and they shall appear.

Wincing, you shoot Marcus an apologetic smile as you rising from your seat before hollering back, “Signomi Theia, tha eimai ekei!”.

Halfway across the café, you call over your shoulder with a grin, “Don’t think I’ve let you off the hook Pike, you better finish that plate otherwise I’ll sic Theia Andonia on you.” .

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Holy Hand Grenade Batman, that took me longer than expected.

Don't hesitate to send through your feedback lovelies, am all about continuous improvement!

Translation - Rough (my Greek is elementary level AT BEST XD)

Kalimera- Good Morning

Kefi - roughly translates to love of a good debate/discussion.

Loukomades – Greek donut balls, typically slathered in syrup or covered in powdered sugar.

écheis koimitheí akóma – have you slept?

Yiayia – grandmother

Katse – sit

Briki – small metal coffee pot

Paidaki mou? Pou eisai, prókeitai na kánete mia ilikioméni gynaíka na periménei ton kafé tis? – My child (common term of endearment)? Where are you, are you going to leave and old woman waiting for her coffee?

Signomi Theia, tha eimai ekei! – Sorry Aunty, I’ll be right there!

#pedro pascal fanfiction #the mentalist fanfiction #coffeshop #marcus pike deserves all of the love #sad sweet boys are my Achilles heel #marcus pike #goodgreekgirl

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