#he always sent cards and gifts to Mary even after their divorce

[ilovemesomevincentprice]

A Valentine Day's card Vincent sent to his wife, Mary 🖤

[henrycavell]

Hi. So how about a story where Henry or one of his characters (your choose) comes home to find his S/o (reader) bent over the oven door, ass in the air, as she scrubs the oven clean. Her head inside the oven, trying to see what she is doing and her torso twisted at an odd angle . He hears her grunting and groaning and cursing cuz it’s so nasty and caked on.

Okay, so I've been in a Marshall kick and he probably wasn't the first character to come to mind when you sent me this prompt, but he's the one I'm going with, haha! Also, sorry this took forever. Literally. Also I loved writing this and kind of want to make a series out of it omgg.

Pairing: Marshall x Reader

Warnings: uh i leave you hanging right when the smut is gonna happen so sorry about that use yalls imaginations im tired today bahahaha i was in a writing mood but not in a mood to write smutt so i apologize if thats entirely what you were looking for!!! also i did not really edit this, i gave it a quick proof read and that was it, enjoy babyyyy

Word count: 1.4k

Marshall had been a little aggravated by your pushiness. He wasn't used to having a woman coming on to him and rather, he didn't much chase women either. After going through his divorce, he had decided to focus on his daughter and his career, deciding love just wasn't in the cards for him. And that had seemed true for a few years until you came along. He often wondered if you just felt sorry for him, if you were just looking at him like a pathetic, lonely man, nothing more than just someone to gift your time to. And for that reason, Marshall had walled himself off from you, sure that you were just going to walk out of his life just as quickly as you had barged in. 

But you were persistent. You had started with bringing him coffee to the precinct and that was already bad enough because it got people talking. Other officers had started asking Marshall if he was having lunch delivered too, and every time it brought a red, burning hot blush to his face. He didn't like it. He wanted to tell you off, ask what your problem was, but he never did. Something always kept him from blowing up on you. 

You had started sending him text messages more often, too. Little ones, just 'Hey, how was your day?' and 'Good night.' It wasn't like Marshall to hold a conversation through text, you were lucky to even get a reply, but you kept at it anyway, not liking the air about the man. Marshall always seemed so lonely, sad and you just wanted to help. You thought you had started to get through to him when he had finally invited you over. It wasn't the cleanest place, but you hadn't expected it to be. He was a single man living alone and while that wasn't an excuse, you knew he probably didn't have the energy in his downtime. 

Downtime, as if he had any of that. 

Even now, you stood alone in the hallway of Marshall's home, looking into his office at the spiderweb of photos and news clippings that were stuck to the wall. He was always working. Sometimes you even brought dinner over to him, late in the evening when you knew he'd gotten off after a double shift and wouldn't have the energy to cook for himself. Marshall had started to warm up to you and that was how you'd gotten a key to his home. 

This was your first time being alone inside, however, and it felt heavy. Like even though the detective wasn't here, the heavy feeling of what he carried still remained. You turned your attention to the kitchen, reminding yourself why you were here. The man's house wasn't clean by any standard and no one deserved to live with such a mess around them. You had already made your way through the rooms, throwing out food containers and cups, picking up any dirty dishes that were scattered around. And now the kitchen needed your focus.

It felt like hours had passed since you cleaned out the fridge and cabinets and now the stove was your next target. Opening the oven, you got down on your knees next to the open door and peered inside at the grime and gunk that was burned and caked-on inside. You felt your shoulders tense, your lip curls up in a snarl as you winced at the filth. Exhaustion was already overcoming you, but the rest of his house was clean and now this was the last thing you had on your list. The only thing that kept you going was the hope of seeing a smile on Marshall's face for the first time.

Grabbing your sponge and cleaning solution, you lightly let a knee rest on the oven door, your other foot still planted firmly on the kitchen floor as you arched your back and leaned into the oven. Grumbles and curses fell off of your tongue as your elbow ached from scrubbing at the oven wall, your nose wrinkling from the charred smell. Inside the oven, it had dampened your hearing, muffling the sound of the front door open opening and closing. You had twisted your torso to the left, at an awkward angle as you tried to get your hand into the far back corner of the oven, wanting the whole thing practically shining before you'd be done with it.

Marshall stepped into the kitchen, expecting to find you somewhere from your car being parked out front, but he hadn't been prepared to find you like this. The leggings you had worn, only to be comfortable while you worked, were stretched tight across your round ass and Marshall wondered if you were swaying your hips like that intentionally, or if it was just a coincidence as you tried to clean. The sight caused his jeans to feel a bit tighter, caused his heart to race just a little faster. His eyes were ripped away from your bottom when another f-bomb fell from your lips. A chuckle fell from his lips and he brought a hand up to his jaw, stroking the growing beard that decorated his chin. He hadn’t meant to just stare, but he was.

The sudden noise startled you, Marshall's footsteps having been oddly quiet, causing you to gasp and jerk up, hitting your head on the top of the oven. You heard Marshall's breath catch in the back of his throat and before you could fully crawl back out of the oven and rub the top of your head, he was already at your side, one arm wrapping around your waist and the other gently applying a bit of pressure to your skull. 

"Didn't mean to scare you," he frowned, his shoulders slouching as he pulled you up to your feet, his hand still resting on your lower back. His hand felt like a weight, yet still sent a little shiver up your spine as you moved to stand just a bit closer to him, your body gently pressing up against his. 

"You didn't... I mean... it's okay," you laughed, your face blushing a bright pink, worried you might've embarrassed yourself. 

"What are you doing, by the way?" Marshall's mouth set into a straight line, his brow pulling down as he looked around the kitchen. It hadn't gone over his head that she'd cleaned his whole house, but he hadn't quite understood why. Things tended to go right over his head and even now as you pressed your body against his, any attempt to feel his touch, even more, he seemed oblivious. 

"I just..." You weren't trying to admit that you just wanted to help him, not wanting to get into the conversation about how you did feel bad for him. Being alone all the time, with nothing but his thoughts and his work and occasionally getting to see his daughter. But you knew how that would sound and you didn't want him thinking he was just a charity case. Every time you stare at Marshall you realize you forget to breathe and you spend most of your time away from him wondering how he's doing, but you also didn't even know where to begin with explaining any of that to him. "Just because," you decided to leave it at that. 

Something must have clicked in Marshall's mind because while you stood there, dumbfounded, trying to come up with an answer, Marshall's focus had been fixated on your lips. His arm was still wrapped around your waist, holding you close to him and he was so muscular, so large you thought there was nothing more that you could do besides stand there and be his prisoner. 

"Well, it was a nice view." 

His blue eyes fell to yours and without speaking, Marshall backed you up against the kitchen wall. His hand that had been applying pressure to where you smacked your head, now cradled your neck and his body was flush up against yours. You weren't sure what Marshall was feeling, but for you, a mix of anxiety and nervousness filled the room and you clung on to every second as you stared up at him, terrified before he leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to your lips. 

"Guess you deserve some sort of thanks," Marshall breathed as he pulled away, your eyes falling to watch his tongue gently graze along his bottom lip. 

"Yes, I think I do."

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