#marcus pike x GN!Reader

[crowandmousewritingco]

Late Nights

Pairing: Marcus Pike x gn!reader

Words: 673

Rating: G (mentions of anxiety spirals)

Summary: Your brain keeps you up and a certain FBI agent keeps you company.

Author: Mod Mouse

Notes: I wrote this after having a particularly bad anxiety night so I hope this helps others when the brain juice is no good. Also unrelated but I'm surprised I've never written for this Marcus before considering my love of art so I have a feeling I will write for him more!

Late nights weren’t a new thing for the two of you. One a curator for the Smithosian’s American Art museum and the other an FBI agent dealing in art forgeries. There was always a case that needed extra work done after office hours. It was typical for the both of you to see the wee hours of the morning fueled by the strongest coffee. 

But today wasn’t one of those times. This time it was your own damn head keeping you up to the wee hours of the morning. At least with the reports you could control when you could fall asleep. But your brain was a fickle creature. Uncontrollable anxiety spiral was the choice for tonight. You had to distract your brain. 

The tv slowly played in your living room. A past favorite show playing as background noise to keep your mind from spiraling anymore. The warm cup of chamomile you held in your hands is your only hope for any semblance of medicine tonight. Absent-mindedly you watched the character repeat the same scenes that at this point you have memorized. 

The female protagonist goes on a date with a guy from her office. He says all the right things and she thinks to herself “I can’t be falling for him.” But the more they talk the more they both realize the same conclusion. Cheesy but you love it. 

You were so sucked into the comfort show that you didn’t realize your husband had walked into the living room. “Honey what’s got you up this late?” You turn to see Marcus standing at the edge of the hallway, flannel robe wrapped around himself. A Christmas present from your first Christmas as a couple all those years ago. 

“You know. Sometimes your brain mixes the wrong kind of cocktail,” You shrugged tiredly. 

Marcus frowned softly. He knew you too well not to notice the use of humor to deflect the situation. “Hun,” He said softly as he sat next to you on the couch. 

Your body unconsciously leaned into his side, like you’ve done for the whole time you’d been together. “Can’t fool you huh?” You chuckled with a sniffle as tears pricked your eyes. 

“Do you want to talk about it? Or you don’t have to. I’m more than willing to stay up with you,” Marcus offered gently, kissing your head. 

You took a minute to gather the scattered remnants of anxious thoughts before you replied. “Just do you ever have those moments where your brain decides to sow some throw away thought but then you hyperfixated on it which makes you spiral. Something like that,” You answer, sighing. 

“Can’t say I’ve ever had exactly that sort of thing happen, but I can imagine that it’s scary.” Marcus gently rubbed your side with his hand. 

“Ya it’s not fun,” You answer cuddling closer into his side. 

“Is there anything I can do?” Marcus asked. “Want me to break out those cookies you bought?” 

You giggled loving Marcus’ need for sweet popping through. “No, I think this tea and you will be enough for me tonight.” 

He smiled and leaned down to kiss your head. “Then that’s what I shall do for you.” Marcus held you close as you two watched your favorite show. The noise and the comfort of your husband is enough to finally allow you to close your eyes and sleep. 

Eventually Marcus noticed your breathing evening out. Carefully he turned off the TV, and set the half-full mug on the coffee table to deal with in the morning. Gently as to not wake you, he scooped you in his arms and carried you back to your shared bed. He laid you down on your side before sliding into the covers on his side. When the blankets covered your both, he leaned over and gently kissed your head. 

“Sweet dreams my little sunflower. I’ll protect you from those awful thoughts.” And with another forehead kiss, he pulled you close as the two of you fell back into a gentle sleep.

All Works Taglist

@for-a-longlongtime @romanarose

Pedro Character Taglist

@littlemisspascal @burntheedges

@carusolikey @thebeldroramscal

@morallyinept @lady-bess

@pedrostories @rivnedell

@pascalsanctuary @readingiskeepingmegoing

Thanks to the lovely @saradika-graphics for the dividers!

[ladamedusoif]

Hot Chocolate (Marcus Pike x gn!reader)

A Merry Fic-Mas - December 3

Part of A Merry Fic-Mas: A Holiday Fic Calendar - click for masterlist. FYI: I'm having so much trouble with taglists at the moment that I'm not going to use them for now - if you want to keep updated, turn on notifications for my posts.

Pairing: Marcus Pike x gn!reader

Rating: Mature

Word count: 1280 words

Warnings: Implied smut, some heavy making out, Marcus being an adorable foodie romantic art nerd, fluff city. No use of Y/N and no physical descriptions of Reader whatsoever. 

Summary: Snowed in and forced to stay over at your colleague’s Georgetown apartment, Marcus whips up a sweet treat to keep you warm.

“I don’t have much by way of dessert,” Marcus muses from the kitchen, where he’s peering into his fridge. 

You finish gathering the last of the takeout boxes from his dining table and begin cleaning them out at the sink. “You’ve given me a room for the night, Marcus, I don’t need dessert. Hey, where’s your recycling bin?” 

He gestures to a cupboard near the sink and leans back on the counter, thinking. “Actually, would you like some hot chocolate? I think I’ve got everything I need.”

Everything he needs?, you think, wondering what more you could possibly need for hot chocolate beyond some powdered mix and milk. Marshmallows, if you were feeling fancy.

“Sure, sounds good to me.” 

He grins in delight and starts rummaging in a cupboard, emerging with bars of dark chocolate and a jar of ground cinnamon, before delving into the fridge and retrieving milk and heavy cream. A heavy-bottomed saucepan is produced and positioned on the hob as Marcus mutters something about finding his grater.

This isn’t going to be cheap-ass powdered mix, is it.

Alright, full disclosure: if someone hooked you up to a polygraph machine and asked you if you had a teeny tiny harmless little workplace crush on Marcus Pike, you’d have to answer in the affirmative.

And who wouldn’t? He was kind and funny, and smart as hell, quietly undertaking a PhD in art history and cultural policy at Georgetown while continuing to work full-time. He was one of the few people in the team who actually kept up with the art world, regularly seeking you out after a new show opened at the National Gallery to exchange your thoughts on it over coffee in the canteen. 

The fact that he was also really cute didn’t hurt, either. 

When snow and ice blocked the routes out of DC back to your place in Alexandria, leaving you stranded, Marcus immediately suggested that you stay over at his place. See? Kind. 

“I’ll be fine, Marcus, really,” you’d protested, searching for hotel rooms in the city and recoiling when you saw the prices - and the lack of options. “Anyway, isn’t your place a one-bed?”

Marcus shrugged. “I’ve got a big couch, spare blankets and pillows, and I won’t stand by and see you hunkering down here for the night. C’mon. We’ll get takeout - I know a great little Korean place.”

He carefully grates the dark chocolate into a bowl while you whisk most of the cream. 

“Y’know, I really thought you were going to pull out a couple of sachets of Swiss Miss? I should have known better.”

Marcus chuckles to himself and checks the saucepan of milk. “Usually I’m a Swiss Miss kinda guy, I have to admit. But when you have guests, you do the Viennese hot chocolate. I like to make a fuss.”

You hold out the bowl of cream for him to inspect and he nods, eyes crinkling as he smiles at you. You put it down and fold your arms as you watch him work.

“Is it really Viennese, or is that just a name they use to make it sound all fancy?”

He laughs and looks at you in mock horror. “Of course it’s really Viennese! I even had it for the first time in Vienna.” Marcus takes the saucepan off the heat and adds the chocolate along with some sugar, a little cinnamon, and a dash of heavy cream. He begins to whisk the mixture carefully.

“It was one summer when I was a student - I had almost no money, but I did have one of those European Interrail tickets and I tried to see as much great art as I could. Took an overnight train to Vienna to see the Klimts at the Belvedere.” He pauses his whisking to assess the texture, then resumes.

“Like I said, I was down to my last few dollars - or Euros, or whatever the currency was at the time - but the one thing I was gonna do besides see the Klimts was go to a real Viennese café.”

The hot chocolate is frothy now, thick and glossy. Marcus nods in the direction of a cupboard and you open it, finding some mugs.

“So I’m guessing you got to a café.”

He turns off the stove and smiles at the memory. “Sure did. Café Central. It was like something out of a Stefan Zweig novel.” He takes a ladle out of a drawer and proceeds to fill the mugs with the steaming chocolate. “And I had a mug of something a bit like this - but much, much better - and a slice of apple strudel, and it was heaven.”

Marcus finishes off the chocolate by placing a large dollop of whipped cream in each mug, and hands one to you.

“This is…incredible. I don’t think I can ever go back to Swiss Miss.”

Marcus chuckles and sips his chocolate, sitting beside you on the couch. “I’m glad you like it. Perfect drink for a snowed-in night.”

You take another deep draught of the delicious, smooth drink and hum happily to yourself. “And I’m checking out flights to Vienna first chance I get.”

He looks at you intently. “Uh, you’ve… uh…”

You can see a giggle rising in his chest. He can’t suppress it, and he laughs out loud. 

“Why is the thought of me going to Vienna so funny to you?”

Marcus’s expression shifts to one of concern and he quickly shakes his head. “No, that sounds wonderful - you’ll love it - it’s just…” He reaches over and gently rubs the tip of your nose with his thumb, removing a large blob of whipped cream. “You had a little, uh, something.”

“Oh. Oh. I’m sorry.” You look down into your mug, a little embarrassed, but try to lighten the mood. “Feels like we’re in a scene from a cheesy holiday movie, y’know?”

He quirks his head. “How so?”

“Oh, you know. The whole ‘one character has whipped cream or something on their face and the other has to swipe it away and then…’”

You stop short, realising what you were about to say - and becoming very aware of just how close you are to him now.

Marcus’s voice is warm and low. “And then?”

Is he moving closer?

“And then… um. And then they usually, uh…”

He finishes your sentence by leaning in and kissing you, softly, gently at first. Your breath hitches as you feel the softness of his lips on yours. 

He breaks away for a second, staying close. “Is this okay?”

“Yeah, it’s…it’s great.” 

He takes your mug and puts it on the coffee table before cradling your face in his big hands and leaning in to kiss you again: a little harder, now, his tongue seeking entry to your mouth as your hands reach for his body and you lean back on the couch. 

You moan and whine with pleasure as you feel Marcus’s hands caressing your body, taste the bittersweetness of the chocolate on his lips and tongue. As he moves his mouth to your neck, sucking and nibbling and licking his way along the sensitive skin, you begin to unbutton his shirt and reach for his belt buckle.

“Marcus?”

He looks up for an instant, hair tousled and eyes as deep and dark and shiny as perfect hot chocolate.

“You’re not sleeping on the couch tonight. You’re keeping me warm in bed.”

Divider by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

[trulybetty]

03 x snowfall - marcus pike x reader

prompt: snowfall pairing: marcus pike x reader word count: 522 notes: fluff, snow, brief mentions of driving in snow, no use of y/n, reader is a blank slate & marcus being marcus summary: marcus pike is king of the small romantic gestures

x. masterlist

You had hoped that Washington would miss the snow this year. You’d made it past Christmas and into the new year without so much as a hint of snow. You'd even confidently said to a colleague the week before that you thought the city would be in the clear in the run-up to spring but alas, no. February 13th, which added a touch of irony as it fell on a Friday, caused the city to slow down, even affecting your commute to work the following morning. 

Saturday morning. 

You weren’t supposed to be at work. Your cases had wrapped and you were supposed to be enjoying a lazy weekend in bed with Marcus. One that was well overdue considering his role at the bureau as the newly crowned Director of the Art Crimes department had him constantly occupied. However new avenues on an investigation his team were working meant they were working all hours. It had kept him at the office until the early hours to turn around and go back only a few hours later after a sleepy fumble in the dark and promised Valentine's plans were put on pause.

You'd resigned yourself to a day in bed feeling sorry for yourself, but your own work had different plans. Your law firm was being called for an all-hands-on-deck weekend of work to prepare for prosecution efforts that had been brought forward earlier than expected.

So you'd reluctantly dragged yourself out of bed, grumbling about the unfortunate circumstances. So then with the city covered in a thick layer of snow, ruining your backup plans and creating chaos. It seemed like the weather was adding insult to injury in an already derailed weekend.

There was no way you were driving to work. A combination of your own driving skills, the lack of the streets being clear yet and then mostly the concern of the skills of others on the road, you settled on the Metro to get you to your office. 

Stepping out onto the sidewalk from the front steps you locked the door behind you and drew in a deep breath in preparation for the day ahead. You also promised yourself the largest coffee you could legally purchase and the most indulgent treat from Sweet Janes. You spun around on the heel of your snow boot, ready to march determinedly towards the Metro. However, your plans were interrupted by the sight of your car parked on the nearby sidewalk. The once smooth layer of snow covering it had been disrupted by a written note etched into the white powder.

I love you, M. 

A smile tugged at the corners of your lips as you imagined Marcus sneaking out in the early hours of the morning to leave the note on his way back to work. Your initial annoyance at having your plans disrupted by both work and the snowstorm was quickly chased away by the warmth of the sweet gesture. Which left you with a little more determination in your steps after you snapped a quick picture and made your way to the Metro station, a little more enthusiastic about the day.

[simpingcowboy]

Lovelight

Pairing: Marcus Pike x GN!Reader, established relationship

Word Count: 2k+

Warnings: Being aggressively in love with Marcus Pike, light use of pet names, getting almost stood up, feeling of romantic inadequacy, just a teensy bit meta, The Wizard of Oz spoilers?

Summary: Even the worst of days are made better with your boyfriend Marcus Pike around

A/N: Another one down for my Year of ABBA as part of the "Year Of" Creations @yearofcreation2023 February edition!!! I've been on a Marcus kick so here we are!

It was a miserable day. A long, terrible, tiresome day. Even your room, your personal sanctuary, felt dreary and gloomy. The wide window offered no comfort either. The rain falling over D.C. clouded the skies. The whole world looked dark from inside your apartment. You let out a sigh of exhaustion; surrendering to the comfort of your bed. As you stare up at the blank old dirty ceiling, a soft knock is heard from the door.

"Babe?" The voice calls, slowly unlocking the door.

You perk up at that voice. Marcus…you smile to yourself, realizing your partner is at the door. Finally, using the spare key you'd given him ages ago.

"I'm here! Come on in." You call back to him.

You sit up on the bed, and make your way over to the door. The two of you practically bump into each other as you meet in the narrow doorway. Marcus looks as perfect as ever. Nicely clean shaven, hair just a bit tussled from the day, in his usual black suit and blue button up combo, a beautiful bundle of flowers in his hands.

"Woah!" Marcus says, trying not to knock you over. "Hi Baby," he says cheerfully, "I heard you had a bit of a day so I uhh thought I'd surprise you." A big smile overcomes his face as he tilts the flowers towards you. "Tada!"

Your eyes shift down to the bouquet. You find yourself giggling at the barcode still peeking out from the top. Imagining Marcus running out from the office to the corner store to grab these. Still, the colors are vibrant. Your favorite. The smell is bright. As you gaze back up at Marcus, the whole world feels brighter too.

"Do you like them? Sorry I couldn't go to the usual florist but I-" Marcus rambles on.

"No." You answer with a smile, taking the flowers in your arms. "They're perfect. You're perfect."

A tinge of red flushes his cheeks at your statement. "Far from it but I'm glad you like them. I also-" he reaches around the still open door to grab a bag from the hallway, "got take out! It's your favorite." He smiles bashfully. Suddenly concerned he'd gone a bit overboard. "I hope it's okay."

"You really are perfect, huh?" You tease, pulling him in and shutting the door behind him.

"I try." He concedes with a shrug. Moving the take out over to your table. Carefully pulling the food out of the bag.

You go to the kitchen, grabbing a vase and filling it with water. Dropping the bouquet in and rushing it over to show Marcus. "Look how pretty they are!" You can't help but smile at them. They fit perfectly. Suddenly, you could ignore all the old stains on the table top.

He chuckles at you, "They look good in here." He agrees.

You inhale, getting a sniff of the food. "That smells so good!" You exclaim, taking your seat across from Marcus.

"Ugh you're telling me! I had to stop myself from just eating it all in the car." He laughs, taking the plastic utensils in his hands.

You eagerly dig in. The flavors hitting your tongue like a firework. It was so rich. Cooked to absolute perfection. Though you know it had likely been some fifteen minutes of waiting in Marcus's car, it was somehow the perfect temperature. "Oh Marcus…I swear the food is never this good when you're not there! Are you sure you're not tipping off the chef or something?"

He scoffs, smiling at the absurdity. "Babe, the first time I went there was with you. There's no way I would have been able to do that."

You squint your eyes at him, a look of fake suspicion on your face. "I'm onto you Agent Pike."

"Yeah yeah," he rolls his eyes, taking another bite of his dinner, "eat your food!"

You continue chatting through dinner, airing out all of the day's frustrations. To which Marcus dutifully listens. He then goes on to talk a bit about his day. Nothing exciting, just writing up reports on his latest sting. Though he just so fails to mention how he left most of them piled on his desk when he heard of your bad day. Still- you cling to every word. At times it felt like Marcus could be talking about nothing at all, and you'd still be totally fascinated about it. Eventually you both finish. Marcus is quick to insist on cleaning up. Claiming as he always did that he had "brought the mess over" and therefore was responsible to clean it. Knowing that fight was yours to lose, you allow it. Watching from the table as he neatly stacks the takeout boxes before throwing them in the trash.

"All done!" Marcus claps his hands together celebratory. "Any ideas for how you'd like to spend the rest of the night?"

You pause to think, "Maybe a movie?"

He smiles with a nod. "Sounds good." He pulls on his tie, loosening it from around his neck. "Do you mind if I change first?"

"Be my guest. Your clothes are in the second drawer where they always are."

Marcus rounds the corner to your bedroom to change. You take the opportunity to get comfortable on the couch. Your body sinks into the soft cushions. A relaxed sigh leaving your body as your hands trace over the smooth material. Everything felt so cozy.

"This look alright?" Marcus steps out into the room giving you a spin. A white V-neck t-shirt on, paired with his comfy grey sweatpants.

You smile up at him, he just looks so snuggleable! "You look great. Now, come here!" You reach for him with outstretched arms.

Marcus, never one to keep you waiting, is quick to join you on the couch. Sitting besides you, pulling you into his chest in a tight embrace. "Alright, what are we watching?"

"No clue." You shrug.

"Channel flipping it is!" Taking the remote in his hand, he begins scouring for something to watch. "Ohh here's something, The Wizard of Oz?"

You watch him with wide eyes. A sense of sentimentality taking over you. "That's the first movie we saw together."

Marcus pauses for a moment, remembering. "Yeah…it is, isn't it? Though, I think we missed the opening of it."

"Which was your fault by the way!"

"Traffic was bad!" He defends.

You can't help but tease. "Excuses, excuses!" You huff as the memory of that date.

You stood impatiently on a corner downtown, across from the movie theatre. Tapping your foot and struggling to stop yourself from sending another text asking if Marcus was standing you up. It'd been about ten minutes since the movie started, and another twenty minutes since Marcus was supposed to have been there. Suppressing the tear in your eye, you bite the bullet and turn to head home. A hand grabbing your waist from behind to stop you.

"Wait-" the man pleads with a voice you recognize, Marcus. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. The traffic was so bad and I- I got here as fast as I could. I didn't see your texts until I was here. And I-" he pauses.

You turned slowly, with half a mind to tell him off for almost making you cry. But you can't. As soon as Marcus was in view, all your frustrations disappeared. It didn't matter that he was late. Only that he was here. And that those big brown puppy dog eyes were all yours again.

"Fuck-" he cuts himself off, leaning in to kiss you unable to resist the urge.

You relax even further into his touch. His hands still on your waist pulling you closer. Your hands wrapping around his neck, holding him to you. "Marcus…" you murmur softly, pulling away briefly.

"I'm sorry." He repeats against your lips. "I should have been here." He kisses you once more, pulling you tight against him.

Suddenly, the traffic seemed to get a little lighter.

"Marcus?" You grab his attention, your mind focusing back on the present. "What happens in the beginning anyways?"

"Of The Wizard of Oz?"

You answer with a nod.

"Well. We start out in Kansas with Dorthy who just got out of school. She's just kind of going about her day. Running into a whole little cast of characters that make up the main cast. A mean neighbor who's the witch. Lion, scarecrow, and the tinman are this group of guys who work on the farm. So on and so on. Same as the end of the film. She sings a little song and then a tornado happens. And we're in Oz!"

"There's a transition, right? When the movie switches into color?"

"Ah yes! That's the really cool part! After the tornado, she opens the door and the world outside is in color. I looked up how they did it but…it kind of ruins the magic." He says with a guilty smile.

"I know the feeling. Of Dorthy I mean. That feeling of the world suddenly being in color.'

"Yeah?" Marcus prompts you, asking for more.

You lean into his ear, with a low whisper, "The same feelings I get being around you."

He playfully pushes you off, "Okay now you're just teasing." His cheeks red with embarrassment.

"I'm serious, Marcus." You wrangle your way back into his arms. "I felt horrible earlier, but there's just something…when you're around…I don't know. My days are just so much better. It's like this aura? Or vibe?"

"A lovelight?" Marcus offers.

"Love-light?" You repeat.

"Yeah, you know…like the ABBA song?" He sighs and begins to half heartedly sing, "You must have a lovelight, everything around you is lovelight."

You chuckle, Marcus's affinity for old media never failing to entertain you.

"You've gotta know that one!"

"I do, I was just hoping you'd sing it for me." You smirk, knowing your plan worked.

He laughs, hiding his face behind his hands. "You got me."

You smile at him, moving his hands to plant a soft kiss on his lips. A smile tucked into each of your faces. "I like it." You quietly say into the kiss.

"Like what?"

"Lovelight…it fits." You nuzzle against his cheek. "You light up my whole world, Marcus. All the things you do. The things you say. Just the way you are. Everything around you is…lovelight."

His face goes red at your turn of affection. "You like it? It's not too much?" Insecurity creeps up his neck. He knows previous partners had felt suffocated by his attentiveness. But if you really liked it maybe…

"Yes. I love it. It makes me feel good. Being with you feels right. Everything about you is right." You lean, gently pressing a kiss to his cheek. "Don't let anyone dim your lovelight, Marcus."

Under you, Marcus anxiously bites his cheeks. His sweet dimples popping in and out as he tries to hide a smile. His eyes, dancing around to avoid catching yours. Though he has lots to say, "I love you…" is all he manages to vocalize.

You smile into his jaw, "I love you too Marcus. Now, I believe we have a movie to watch!" You relax back down at his side.

Marcus flashes you a quick grin. "To Oz we go." He says as he turns on the film.

The rest of the night is peaceful. Full of behind the scene facts from Marcus, and snacks you'd been saving for moments like this. After the film ends, you're both quick to agree to turn in early. Both you and Marcus are tired from your day, and know the next will be equally as tiring as well. Marcus takes his place in bed beside you, turning off the bedside lamp.

"Goodnight Baby." He gives you a soft kiss before tucking himself under the comforter.

"Goodnight Marcus." You return his notion.

As you get comfortable under the covers, you notice something. With Marcus around, even that old dirty ceiling seems a little whiter.

[chaoticgeminate]

A Future with You

Summary: Sometimes things happen that change everything, and the kind actions of a stranger help you at a low point in your life. Not only do you get to return that kindness but you also wind up happier than you've ever been.

Rating: M (Non/Semi-explicit smut content)

Pairing: Marcus Pike x gn!Reader (If you notice any descriptors please let me know kindly and I'll fix them)

Notes: This work is a part of the @pedrostories Secret Santa event and is a gift, I tried very hard not to imply any holiday the reader celebrates but included a holiday tradition from my giftee which is why there is a Christmas film on the title card. That being said:

Happy Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, Happy Kwanzaa, Merry Yule, Saturnalia Salutations to my Secret Santa giftee @browneyes-issac! I really hope you enjoy my gift, Lotus, this was a lot of fun to write ❤

A Future with You (6.7k)

“I’m sorry.”

Echoing, repeating, inside your head like a specter that wouldn’t leave you alone; the two words held none of the emotions they should have, the tone was blank and empty and had been delivered that way. Even now you could still see his stupid face looking anything but sorry, those green eyes lacking any empathy for what he’d done to you, and it hurt worse as all the ugly little thoughts you’d kept at bay were buzzing like a swarm of pests surrounding you.

You aren’t good looking enough, why would he choose Kaleigh otherwise?

You aren’t smart enough, you would have gotten that promotion sooner if you were, right?

You spend too much time working rather than being a good partner, he wouldn’t have to find affection somewhere else if you tried harder would he?

Each thought cut deeper and deeper, the aching in your chest bleeding out and making you feel cold, your legs pulled close to your chest and your face buried in your knees to hide the tears spilling over your cheeks. Around you the airport was bustling and loud but you couldn’t hear it, the endless number of conversations and bubbly pop music were muted by the grief and the voices of your own inner demons screaming at you. 

Someone touched you, the hand on your elbow gentle, but you hadn’t been ready for it; head snapping up to look, worried you’d missed your flight or something. Instead, there were gentle brown eyes, a soft smile fading into a look of concern, and the stranger pulled his hand back; his lips moved but you still couldn’t hear him over the roaring of your inner demons, now mocking you for bringing a stranger into your pity party.

He tried again and this time you paid attention, you forced yourself to focus on the here and now, you pushed those inner demons back knowing it would just make the intrusive thoughts worse later.

“Are you on the DCA flight? I can make sure you don’t miss it.”

“What?”

Good going, dummy, way to sound like a moron in front of this guy.

“If you- if you need to stay like that, I can make sure you don’t miss the boarding call. I don’t expect you to open up to a complete stranger, but I don’t want you to miss your flight because of the hurt.” Part of you, the pride that you still had left, bristled at how quickly he’s seen you and figured you out; wanting to deny the assist on principle that you were just fine without someone jumping in. That you didn’t need a fucking knight in shining armor or some shit, no matter how distraught you seemed to be.

He's just being kind.

This stranger was giving you more courtesy that your ex had in, well, probably a long time. He was giving you the chance to hurt without the worry that it would cause problems getting home, and you needed that more than you knew.

“Please?” Your voice was rough from the screaming fit just hours before, when Ryan had the audacity to ask you to give him half of your own savings -thank the fucking powers that be you had not combined finances yet- so he could buy an engagement ring for Kaleigh. His rushed proposal to you had been done with a cheap ring from a little crane game he’d won on your anniversary trip, it was cute and you’d been happy with it because it’d been a sweet proposal and just fit the two of you so well; now though it stung, thinking about the fact that he wanted to give Kaleigh the hallmark proposal and happy family.

A nod was all you needed to return to burying your face in your knees, to muffle your soft wheezy sobs in the plush fabric of your scarf -it was going to be cold in DC and you weren’t going to be the idiot unprepared for the weather- and just letting the emotions go. But this stranger didn’t just support you by promising the bare minimal help, he went and got a fresh bottle of water for you when you’d finished yours and even went and got you a small snack from one of the nearby vending machines when you’d told him you hadn’t eaten since at least two days before.

This man had put more care and attention into you in the span of two hours than Ryan had in two years.

Fuck you’re pathetic if a stranger is better to you than your ex was.

Marcus Pike, as he introduced himself eventually, was a genuinely good man and you had to admit you were kind of jealous of this Teresa person that was apparently flying out to DC in a week to follow him. He’d gotten a text from her that she was working on a case or something, that she’d call in an hour or two if she could, and that led to him telling you about her. But the jealousy you thought you’d feel that he was getting everything he wanted and you weren’t just… wasn’t there. If anyone deserved a happy marriage it was this good-hearted, sweet, man beside you who saw a stranger in pain and stepped up.

“So, uh, are you from DC or the surrounding area?” He was trying to make conversation no doubt, you hummed as you chewed on the bite of the meal you’d ended up buying now that your appetite was returning, and a part of you was at war with giving him such personal information when you’d only just met him today. But you didn’t have some of the same bad vibes that you usually got with creeps or pushy men; you had a feeling if you refused to answer he’d actually respect that.

“Surrounding area, though my promotion does come with a change of office to DC. I’m in Baltimore currently but I’ll be looking for a place in DC as soon as I get back since it’s an hour commute not counting the traffic. The week I got off was supposed to be for me to begin the process of finding residency closer to work, I had use-or-lose time that would’ve been lost as soon as I started at the new role so it just made sense to take it when I got the affirmative that I’d be promoted.” Marcus was nodding in understanding at your logic, you hadn’t expected to actually get approved for any houses or places but just being able to take your time touring the options had been the idea.

Marcus grabbed his phone and handed it to you after opening a browser window, the condo was a nice place and the cost was actually pretty decent for the size.

“I was initially looking here, since they’re one-bedroom places, but with Teresa coming along I decided to spring for a two-bedroom so we could have an office room.” You sent yourself the share link, already liking that it had designated parking and security cameras around the building, but what sold it was the fact that the interior wasn’t the modern aesthetic with sleek square edged and monochrome colors. The appliances were a lovely shade of royal blue, the furniture that came with the place was vintage and fun looking, and if that was Marcus’ taste it was just one more way he was nothing like any man you’d met.

“Thank you, I’ll check this place out.” You had a few more days left of time at least, since handling things with your ex had been done quickly once you knew what was actually going on, and since he was planning on staying here in Austin you’d even decided to take the L and mail his things back to him so he didn’t have to fly back and you could avoid him accusing you of purposefully withholding his belongings. That meant time to wander around DC and get an idea of where you might want to live, though this place was looking pretty alright.

For the first time in a while you didn’t even feel scared that a stranger would know where you potentially lived, the warning bells were absent and you didn’t know if that was because Marcus was just that good or because he was good at hiding it, and you decided to let yourself believe in him being a good person.

There were so many other things you had to stress about and this was something you didn’t want to add to the list.

As the boarding call started, after you and Marcus spent time talking about favorite books and films, he let you on ahead of him and waved from his seat near the front of the cabin as you moved toward the back. The curse of booking a late ticket, of course, and after setting your phone to airplane mode you decided to take the nap you knew you needed.

Marcus bid you farewell at the exit terminal in DCA while he was getting his phone turned back on, since you didn’t have to go through baggage claim there was no added wait, and you were off and in a cab toward the hotel you’d booked last minute in the city so that you could just stay and explore living spaces before heading back to your place in Baltimore.

The condo was finally furnished, it looked like your space, and all of the boxes of Ryan’s stuff had long since been shipped off and confirmed to arrive at Austin. Breaking the lease on your old place had been costly -his parents chose to cover the cost after the truth came out- but you were free, free of someone who saw you as a piggy bank and free to move on with your career and live the life you wanted to live. You wiped the sweat off your brow and decided to head down the road to the nearby diner, a bite to eat that you didn’t have to cook sounded great, and you had a few hours before your best friends would be here to help put your knickknacks and art up.

It had been months since you got back, months since you’d started at work in your new position, and even if finding the time to hunt for a place in DC was limited to weekends and unexpected breaks in your work weeks you’d managed to finally tour a bunch of apartments and condos in the area. In the end you’d settled on the place Marcus had shown you after getting the in-person tour.

Now as you faced the brisk fall weather your mood was much higher, you were living a fair distance from work that public transport and even just walking would be fine too, and now you were going to get some good classic food. Warm and soft lighting made you relax as you entered the eatery, it was a seat yourself joint and you were ready to take a seat at the bar when you spotted a familiar face in one of the booths, waving when he looked up from his phone screen; Marcus’ smile was blunted since your first meeting and you glanced at the bar a moment and walked over to greet him instead.

“Hey stranger, fancy seeing you here. Want company?” Not wanting to assume anything you couldn’t help but grin when his smile did shift to something warmer and more welcoming.

“Only if you want to.” You slid into the seat with a smile after he gave you the okay. “How have you been, since getting back to Baltimore?”

“Better, it’s still- there’s still plenty of hurt but I’m in a better place all around; especially now that I know the whole truth. I just finally finished unpacking and organizing my place here in DC, so I figured I’d celebrate. How about you? How’s the East Coast treating you?” Since he was alone and lacking a band on his left ring finger you avoided the topic of the woman he’d said was coming out here, he’d been so excited about his engagement and with how sweet he was you had expected his fiancée to be just as enthusiastic.

Marcus’ shoulders dropped a little and you didn’t even think before reaching out to take the hand he had on the table, offering a sympathy-filled smile, and his eyes dropped from your face to your connected hands before he let that smile fall away.

“East Coast as a whole is okay, but Teresa ended up breaking the engagement to be with the guy that she was in love with before me. I knew it wasn’t- I knew that as long as she was around Jane that she would choose him; we’d only been together a few months before I proposed, I didn’t want to lose my chance with her just by being transferred so I’d called in a few favors to get her a position here and hoped that being away from the guy that wasn’t returning her feelings would let her move on. With me.”

You knew he’d moved fast; he’d told you that, but you had seen shorter dating periods turn into long and happy marriages before. What upset you was that Marcus had put his heart, his hope, into someone that just wasn’t in a place to be that person for him and wasn’t willing to just tell him that.

“You saw what the two of you could be and wanted to try for that, Marcus, and that’s perfectly okay. You gave Teresa every chance to tell you ‘no’ and she didn’t take it for whatever reason, if she wasn’t able to commit to you entirely then she shouldn’t have accepted your proposal. If she wasn’t able to communicate with you, to try to move on from the other guy, then she should have said something. It takes two people to make a relationship work and it sounds to me like she wasn’t trying as hard as you were.”

When you looked up from your hands it was to a man with shiny eyes and tears threatening to fall, a man who had been hurt and needed someone who could at least understand the hurt, and you didn’t say anything when he used a napkin to dab his eyes gently. If anyone understood what he was feeling right now it was you, after all, given that the situations weren’t the same but there were some strong parallels. Him allowing himself to cry? To feel? You liked that about him, a lot.

“When Ryan proposed it was a rushed thing too, it was on our anniversary and he won a little plastic ring out of a crane game instead of the little charm bracelet he’d been trying for. He looked at it, looked at me, and then got down and proposed right there; almost made me think he meant to try for it for that reason and since our relationship had always been easy and never focused on the materialistic things, I loved it and it was sort of on brand. But he pulled away, after that, wasn’t involved in any of the planning unless I specifically asked for his opinion. I thought it was cold feet, or that he was just nervous because he didn’t know if his parents were able to make it to the wedding on the day we chose, but it turns out his childhood friend Kaleigh was newly single and he’d always loved her.”

Saying the story out loud made the anger lessen, now that you could see the signs clearer, even if the hurt was still there. How Ryan had always talked about Kaleigh’s clothes style, compared your hairstyles on special occasions to hers, and just being very attentive to her social media to the point that you knew more about Kaleigh than his own sister before you’d ended up opening a group chat with Hannah. A part of you also felt like you’d dodged a bullet, learning before you were married, because it meant that not only had it festered enough to do more hurt later but you had a lot more to lose in a divorce situation compared to Ryan.

His grip tightened, making you look up, and Marcus’ expression was one of understanding. Even without saying the words he knew that you were offering him support, that you knew his pain and would be the person he could open up to about it, and if it weren’t for your meals being delivered you were sure the two of you would have been able to just sit in comfortable silence.

“Ah, pancakes guy? Breakfast for dinner is something I haven’t done in a while.” You took a bite of your meal and Marcus shrugged, putting a good bit of syrup -the authentic maple syrup not the gloopy pancake syrup- onto the hubcap sized pancake along with a large dollop of butter. Your talk lightened to things in the area to do for fun, things in Baltimore to do for fun, hobbies you had currently and things you wanted to try and get into.

Marcus was genuinely a good person and creative as hell, watching him sketch you on a napkin in only a few minutes had left your face warming at the detail he managed to get into the little image. Only after you’d gone through a few refills, talked until you were sure your voice was going to be shot, and spent nearly an hour more than you planned there with him did the two of you decide to leave. Marcus paid for your meal -his insistence- and followed you back to yours where you brewed some coffee for him and let him lean in the doorway of your kitchen as the two of you talked about movies that you enjoyed.

By the time you both sat down on your couch, on opposite sides with you pulling your legs close, a small part of you was loath to let him leave. Marcus had proven before that he was attentive and kind with a big heart and knowing he was going to therapy -he’d glossed over it but you didn’t mind since he trusted you enough to even mention it in the first place- all it proved was that he wanted to heal and be better. You liked him, and even though your heart hurt, you were terrified of the idea of losing him because you wanted to take more time for yourself, but you didn’t want to push him into anything by rushing since he was going through the same heartbreak you were. 

“So, uh, you never said what you did for work. What brought you from Texas to DC? Politician?” Dropping the thoughts before they could ruin your night, choosing to needle him just a little, you watched the way Marcus’ nose wrinkled instantly. You knew he wasn’t but you were sure he’d be a good one, the kind of guy to push for what was right without forcing his lifestyle on others, and the idea of him putting any of those crusty old raisins in office in their place was a fun one.

“Nah, I’m not old enough or conservative enough to be a Texan politician. FBI actually, art crimes. I’m on the team of people that investigate when museums get robbed of art work or statues, sometimes we end up tracking things internationally depending on the thief. We also have to inspect and identify if things that pop up are authentic or if they’re fakes.” His explanation was delivered in an even voice and he showed you his badge while he was at it, your throat tightened and you felt the gooseflesh on your arms as the image of him apprehending a thief made your heart beat a little faster.

As if he couldn’t be more attractive, he had to be an FBI agent too?!

“That’s really incredible, I can’t imagine it was easy either. Did you have to get a degree in classic art before going to whatever FBI training is?”

Marcus laughed softly.

“I went to Quantico first, actually, my father was always set that as his firstborn son I’d be police or military or some role with authority. He could handle the FBI but it wasn’t until I was out of Quantico serving as a low-level agent that I pursued my Art Degree and transferred to Art Crimes as my hands-on credit hours. He still hasn’t forgiven me.”

“His loss, that is an amazing career to pursue Marcus.” You didn’t miss the way his smile brightened or how he hung off every word as you told him about your own career, how you’d not only gotten your promotion but quickly earned a pay raise on top of the raise that came with the new position, and you honestly couldn’t be happier now that you’d escaped “Hallmark Rom-Com” territory with your love life. After being able to focus solely on your career you’d managed to get into a much better place for yourself financially, which if you were being honest, helped bring you to a better place emotionally too.

Marcus stayed until he absolutely couldn’t and even then you made plans to meet up again on the weekend since he knew of a place that did drive-in movies, old black and whites and you hated that when you closed the door your heart was skipping and you couldn’t stop the way you did a corny little victory dance. It wasn’t a date, he hadn’t explicitly said it, but it was a start.

It was a date, the first of many, and Marcus was a breath of fresh air in the best way. He was kind, supportive, understanding, and an attentive lover. The whole ass package and somehow fate had put him in your path, not that you were complaining in any way, and this year was your first holiday together. You had plenty of fall-time dates last year trading apple cider and pumpkin kisses, snuggling up in the library together to just read or going to snuggle in his car at the drive-in theater, and there had been countless times you’d stumbled into the door of one of your houses where clothing ended up on the floor and sometimes you didn’t even make it to a bed.

You didn’t regret it, him, at all; a number of people tried to slow you down, since it hadn’t been so long after your break-up with Ryan before you and Marcus began dating, but their tunes changed when they actually met him and saw you two with one another. The main reason you hadn’t spent the holiday together as a couple yet was that Marcus had plans already with his family out of the country last year and you weren’t quite willing to intrude on that, even though you were sure about him, you didn’t want to crash a family vacation.

This year was yours, he’d promised, but that wasn’t looking like it would happen. Part of you couldn’t help but sigh as you looked at the calendar again, Marcus had to go to Austin for an undercover op and couldn’t even call you, he only had an approximation for when he’d be able to either call or come home. Since he was a Christmas guy you had used your key to his place and decorated his condo for the holiday for him, even getting out his fake tree and doing the entire set up, sneaking a few things of your own traditions around the main room before deciding it was done.

But all the tinsel and candles -LED since you weren’t exactly staying here to watch them- and décor couldn’t erase how it was lacking one Marcus Pike to fill the space with his sunny smile and warm affection. Even if you couldn’t celebrate the whole season with him, at the very least Christmas was enough for you if he could make it home, and as the days were crossed off your calendar it was looking less and less likely. Your own condo was significantly sparse on décor, trying to lighten your mood by making Marcus’ place look like a Christmas dream hadn’t really worked out the way you planned and his continued absence stole your spirit.

A chime from your phone made you huff softly and answer, if only to disrupt the cheerful ringtone, you knew it wasn’t Marcus since he had a custom ringtone set.

“Hey sharpshooter.”

Ryan’s parents had given you the title when you’d beat his entire family at the little shooting game at their town faire on your first visit, it was bittersweet hearing it again.

“Hi Drew, happy holidays.”

“Happy holidays, kid, just wanted to let you know that Nadine and I are proud as hell of you and that we miss you. I know it’s probably weird, your ex-fiancé’s parents calling to wish you happy holidays but you were family to us.”

“I don’t blame you or Nadine for what happened, but thank you for calling. Tell her I said hello and happy holidays, Drew.”

“Will do, sharpshooter, we wanted to pack up and send you some honey from the bee farm if you’re interested as a gift.”

“That would be a wonderful present, thank you.”

Even if you didn’t use it you could always re-gift it and pass business along.

“Good, you still have that drop box?”

“Yep! That’s perfect, Drew.”

“Wasn’t going to ask for your new address, figured in the New Year you’d want to move on for good.”

“I appreciate that, more than you know, but I’m glad I got to say a proper goodbye this time.”

“Me too, kid. Don’t settle for anyone that doesn’t respect you, you deserve the world.”

“I haven’t, Drew.”

“Even better.”

You knew when a conversation with Drew was over, when the sentences turned to one or two words, and despite this being one of the shortest conversations you had with the man you appreciated it all the same because now you could move on knowing that everyone from that point in your life was okay. You honestly felt lighter and almost jumped when you heard your door opening, knowing you’d locked it behind you, and your eyes widened when Marcus rounded the corner of the entry with a large grin on his face.

“Marcus!”

Your wail of his name drowned out the rapid tattoo of your footsteps as you hurried to hug him, to prove that he was really here, and he caught you in a tight hold and just held you close. His cologne was different, the facial hair was different, and the lingering scent of dry Texas air was different, and yet the feel of his arms around you and the warmth he seemed to just give off constantly was the same.

“I missed you so much, I’m so sorry I couldn’t call or contact you-“

“Don’t apologize, I know it was for your job, you were safer that way and it was required. You’re home, that’s what matters.”

“God, I love you, I love you so much, I booked the first flight home I could and spent extra hours in the office just to make sure I could come back and stay here.” 

Marcus didn’t argue at all when you dragged him through your apartment, mouth practically fused to yours as you worked to get him out of his clothes and into the shower, your own clothes joining his on the floor as you joined him under the stream of hot water. He proved how much he missed you, whispering praise and love into your wet skin, the slick glide of your bodies and heavy breathing laced with promises and traded affections between each throaty cry of his name were things you would remember for the rest of your life. He was insatiable for you, just as you were for him, and the shower round turned to soaking your sheets after stumbling out of the shower and away from your poor attempt at getting him clean.

He was all lips and tongue and hands, no inch of you was left untouched or unloved, and Marcus went as far as holding the back of your neck as he filled you just so he could make sure he could watch your face as he made you fall apart over and over again. His kisses were deep and intense, encompassing you entirely even as his hips rocked so slow and deep against yours, it was toe-curling and spine arching and yet you couldn’t get enough.

When you both were spent, wanting to just make out and talk and cuddle, Marcus migrated you to the couch after getting you both into comfier clothes where he nestled into the corner of your L shaped sofa and let you lay on him with his legs on either side of you, turning on some low background noise in the form of classic Christmas movies, and you couldn’t begin to care as Rudolph and Hermey met Yukon Cornelius since Marcus was here with you at last.

“I need to go decorate my condo; did you want to come help? You could just stay at mine until the holidays are over?”

A slow smile spread across your face when you realized that he hadn’t been home yet, he’d come to see you first, and you nodded before getting up to pack a bag to bring with you. Marcus helped of course, you even let him choose some of the casual stuff to pack, and other than stopping for a simple take-out dinner the ride was filled with him telling you about the sting operation. He’d posed as an art teacher to expose someone on the staff from not only stealing student’s work but for having some of the better talents recreate pieces that had gone missing and passing them off as legitimate.

You couldn’t be happier that he had pretty thick curtains so you couldn’t see the glow of the battery powered candles through them, asking him about his method of befriending the perpetrator to distract him as you let him handle the luggage so you could open the door, and Marcus’ face went slack when he stepped into the condo to see it fully decorated already.

“I- you- you decorated my condo?”

“Wanted you to come home to one less thing to do, it was a good way to help fight how much I missed you for a little while.”

Marcus’ slack expression warmed before he was tugging you onto the plush carpet, the net of Christmas lights you’d attached to his ceiling using command hooks twinkled like stars as Marcus kissed you deeply under them, and you couldn’t resist flipping him onto his back so he was looking up at the lights while you tugged off your hastily donned clothes again. Your bodies were dewy with sweat and the lights were reflecting off his skin and twinkling in his eyes, his lips dropped open as you held him in place so that you could give him nothing but pleasure, and Marcus’ hands gripped your hips to help move you as he watched you.

Even with his feet planted he let you lead, let you control the pace, and by the time you were shuddering and tensed up as you crested that high Marcus was seeking his own completion and guiding you with his hands until he was spent and shaking under you. He pulled you down and just laid with you under the Christmas lights that you’d put up, the warm condo -thank you automatic thermostats- was a little chilly but not enough to make you feel the need to get up just yet.

“I plan to do a lot more to you under these lights.” Marcus’ eyes were dark with mischief and desire as he made that promise and you were more than eager to let him see it through.

Waking up with Marcus’ warm body pressed close to yours kept you drowsy and comfortable, eyes heavy still even as you glanced at the clock, and while you didn’t have to get up early today there was definitely a motive involved doing so. For the past week or so Marcus had been sneaking out of bed before you to make you breakfast.

‘I like taking care of you, besides you’ll agree to move in sooner if the promise of breakfast and as many orgasms you want is on the table right?’

He was a caretaker, a giver, you knew that about him but so were you and he was starting to make you feel like you weren’t giving him enough. It was a conversation to have, sure, but that would come later. He barely stirred when you slipped out of bed, didn’t make a peep when you tugged on one of his shirts and a pair of underwear, and his kitchen was warm and quiet as you raided the fridge to start cooking right away.

He hadn’t seen you smuggle his gifts home, since you both had still worked up until the holiday, and the wrapped presents were carefully tucked under the tree as the coffee pot percolated and the pan you needed warmed up. Hiding them from him had been embarrassingly easy, for a man that was an FBI agent he seemed to have forgotten that his coffee table had hidden storage because you’d even set a little bit of a trap so you would know if he got into his gifts.

Breakfast was nearly complete when you heard the sleepy call of your name from the bedroom.

“I’m in the kitchen, Marcus.”

You’d thrown on an elf hat for some Christmas humor, hearing your boyfriend hum appreciatively as he walked into the kitchen, and he grabbed your hips as he came up behind you.

“Did Santa leave me one of his helpers for Christmas?”

A small chuckle escaped you as you nodded, watching him pour himself a mug of coffee, and his eyes drifted to the tree over the breakfast bar countertop. You felt the weight of his stare at the boxes in plain sight and resisted the urge to laugh, just barely, and while he didn’t say anything he did pinch your butt and set the table for breakfast.

Only after you sat down did you notice that he had added boxes to the stack and you rolled your eyes at the smug look on his face.

“What time are you going to call your parents?”

“Well, they’re home in Austin since I’m here and Nina is with her girlfriend’s family in Maine. So I figured around three since we’re an hour ahead. Gives them time to get up and have lunch, just relax a bit, you know?” 

“Alright, gives me plenty of time to clean up. And get pants on.”

The pair of you laughed, eating while conversing about any last-minute plans that either of you might want to do, and you only asked to watch White Christmas since that was a tradition in your family. Where it started you didn’t know but that had become the Christmas tradition, regardless of any other celebrations it was the only “Christmas-y” thing and this year Marcus was going to be there for the movie stream to meet your family too.

After dishes were cleaned up Marcus joined you in the living room and handed you one of your gifts, taking one of his to rest in front of him. You almost laughed because he picked the biggest of the boxes for each of you. The Razor Crest model in your hands was amazing, you would have to assemble it but that was a good rainy-day project, and Marcus looked thrilled when he began going through the canvas prints you had purchased for him to put up. Some of them were multi-panel pieces while others were single canvas pieces, but all of them were from the students he’d taught for his undercover op.

Your next gift was a new, beefy, set of over-the-ear headphones. These had noise cancellation or you could use the ambient mode to still hear things around you, you had only briefly mentioned these to him so for him to remember? You didn’t bother to mute your delighted cheer. Marcus grinned and then fell silent at the scrapbook you’d put in a pretty gift box; you’d only made and set removable labels for the pages with activities you wanted to do together. Things like going to certain museums or traveling to other cities, all optional but just things you thought were fun and cute.

There was even a page dedicated to the city of Casablanca, it made Marcus wipe the pooling tears out of his eyes.

“You- you want to do all this? With me?”

The unspoken words broke your heart. 

You see a future with me?

“Absolutely, I do, Marcus -as long as we do it together, we could change up every little thing on those pages. That’s just ideas and possibilities, we can always pick others.”

His last gift was the smallest of the boxes, and the most expensive, so when he opened it to a Cartier box you watched his eyes go wide before he was so lightly touching the face of the watch you’d chosen for him. It was vintage with a round face and black leather band, the exact one he’d been looking at when you’d gone on a date to a silent auction, and you’d been hiding it for months even before he left for the undercover op. Marcus made a little sound of disbelief and you couldn’t help but grin at him, earning a kiss so good your toes curled and you were ready to ignore the last gift of the night.

But Marcus sat you back down and handed you the box, looking so sure of himself, and when you opened it carefully you frowned at the small cardboard box that was apparently empty. Looking up and freezing at the sight of your boyfriend on one knee, your chest tightened up and the mix of joy and the small bubbling doubts after last time made your eyes water.

“Before you say anything, even if the answer is a ‘not right now’ that’s perfectly fine and it won’t hurt my feelings. I love you and I want to spend the rest of my life with you, whether we’re married or not, I just want you to have something to show you that I’m serious about you. You walked into my life needing help and then returned that same genuine kindness months later, you have never treated me like I’m too much and you’ve been so patient with me. I know I spent a lot of our relationship gone, which is why you do not have to say yes to this, but I want to marry you and I hope that someday you might want the same.”

“Marcus I can’t lie and say I’m not anxious about this, I am, but you know the reason why and have been patient with me through my healing process. I love you too, and I do want to spend the rest of my life with you, I want to be by your side and explore the world with you one day at a time. I know we can be amazing together, even with you gone you’ve never given me a reason to doubt you, and I would prefer a longer engagement but I’d be willing to sign the papers tomorrow since it’s you..” He slipped the band on your finger and kissed you, promising you as much time as you needed, and you said a silent prayer to whatever higher power was listening to thank them for allowing this man to cross your path when you needed him the most.

After wrapping paper clean up, fawning over gifts, and very pleasurable thank you’s were exchanged he tucked you against his side on the couch and flipped on Netflix so you could continue catching him up on the shows he’d missed while he was working and glancing at your new ring with hope and love warming your heart.

All Fics Taglist: @haylzcyon @wordsnwhiskey @pagannightwitch @radiowallet @tauralmie @amneris21 @trickstersp8 @practicalghost @rominaszh @alwaysdjarin @alexxavicry @all-the-way-down-here

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[sirowsky]

Day 7 of the Celebration Stories, and this one comes from my lovely wife @lucrezia-thoughts with the prompt: "Please, tell me you missed me." with the supreme Marcus Pike! <3

Rating: Mature Warnings: Marcus Pike x friend reader, reader has no physical description and no specified gender, cursing, college reunion, fluff, happy and open ending. Word Count: 732 Sirowsky's Masterlist

--Reunion--

   He was one of your best friends in college, but you haven’t seen him since then.    You’d parted ways after graduation, and while you had initially tried to stay in touch, this had been before the age of smartphones and all the modern technology that makes connecting to other people so easy these days, so it hadn’t taken long before your busy lives had killed your friendship.

   You weren’t going to come to this reunion, for a lot of reasons, but in the end, it had been the prospect of seeing him again that had made it impossible to stay away.    He’s in the FBI these days, and you know that he’s working with art theft and stuff, but that’s also pretty much the extent of what you know.    Whether he’s single, married, a father, or perhaps no longer identifying as male or straight, you have no idea.

   But sitting there, at the far end of the café that’s being used for the event, you’re certain that none of it matters. You just wanna see him again.    You watch your former classmates make their entrance, one after the other, and then proceed to behave exactly as you expect, because of course they haven’t changed much. Which is somewhat comforting, but also dull.

   You’ve been there for an hour and a half, and barely spoken to anyone, because you hardly knew them when you were in class together, and even less so now.    There were two other people that you were also close with back then, Miles and Kayla, but they got married and moved to Europe years ago, so they’re not coming.    And since it’s looking increasingly unlikely that the man you’re waiting for is gonna show, you get up and start making your way to the door.

   It takes a while, because everyone wants to pretend to care that you’re leaving early, and you’re too polite to just tell them to fuck off, so you fake a smile and try and work your way through them as painlessly and quickly as you can.    Stepping outside it feels like you’re taking your first breath of actual air in almost two hours, and it cools you down, so you take a moment to just stand there and breathe.

   ���Still not a people person, huh?” a familiar voice sounds from your right, and you turn your head to find him there, slowly strolling towards you with his hands buried in the front pockets of his jeans.

   “Marcus…” you breathe, stunned to finally see him again.

   He looks even better than you remember. More mature and definitely a lot calmer, but that boyish twinkle in his eyes hasn’t gone anywhere.    And somehow you feel like you’ve just come home.

   “Please, tell me you missed me,” he says with a smile as he comes to a stop right in front of you. “Because I have had a terrible year, and I could really use an old and good friend right about now.”

   You decide not to dwell on whatever the terrible stuff might be, because you’re also in need of a good friend to take your mind off the greyness of your life, so you smile back.

   “Yes. I’ve missed you terribly. Now give me a hug and then let’s go find some good food and catch up,” you suggest, and he quickly wraps his arms around you with a warm chuckle deep in his throat.

   He seems to hold on to you just a little longer and a little tighter than what you’d expected, which makes you think that maybe he really has gone through some shit, and is downplaying it to not ruin the reunion.    But you don’t mention it. You just take his arm once he pulls back, and together you saunter off down the street, looking for a Chinese restaurant, and somehow you know that this friendship isn’t going to die off again this time.

   You’re both a little different now, shaped by the things you’ve gone through, no doubt, but you’re also the same.    Everything about him feels familiar, from his walk to his mannerisms to his voice and the way he talks, and you imagine that it feels the same for him.    And you just know in your heart that any friendship that can feel this unchanged and comfortable even after a decade of no contact, is meant to last.

<<<<<<<THE END>>>>>>>

Thank you for reading and if you enjoyed this, please consider reblogging so that more people might find it <3

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[missredherring]

M.P. + "I can't believe you're this innocent."

Marcus Pike x GN!Reader

Rating: PG

Word Count: 481

Contents: mentions of sex. propositioning Marcus for sex/fwb. Reader is generally inexperienced in relationships.

A/N: When the wheel of destiny paired these two up I wasn't sure I could even write it because the prompt sounded so condescending in my mind! How could our Marcus say that?

But then I was talking with @psychedelic-ink about the friends with benefits trope that usually ends up in feelings at the end, and what if the person being asked for that situation knew what would happen from the start? It made this prompt with Marcus work.

Not beta'd. Any mistakes are my own.

Summary: "I can't believe you're this innocent."

Series Masterlist

You’re proud that you got through the entire speech(suggestion? proposition?) without forgetting any of the important points from the list you’d written up.

A friends-with-benefits agreement seems like a great idea. Very adult, and there isn’t anyone you wanted or trusted more than Marcus. But his face is dropping and he’s taking a step away, hands halfway up his sides like he doesn’t know what to do with them before going to his hips.

“I can’t believe you’re this innocent.” 

It’s quiet, said more to himself than to you, but you’re so tuned into him that you hear it clearly. And it hurts. A sharp pang in your chest followed by your stomach dropping into your guts. It hurts; the frown on his face and how he isn’t meeting your eyes anymore, he’s turning his body away from you like he can’t wait to put you and you apparently horrible suggestion behind him.

Maybe he’s right, because all you want to do right now is run away instead of holding your ground and finishing this conversation. Circulation has caught up with your emotions and now your face is hot enough to fry all that egg on it. You can feel the tears stinging behind your eyes, but you force yourself to say something. You’re adult enough to proposition him for this, so you’ll be adult enough to deal with the fallout. 

“That’s the point isn’t it?” You cross your arms over your chest. “So this way I can get some experience with someone I trust not to screw me over in a way I won’t like and you can break your dry spell. You were just complaining to Smith about it last week.”

Marcus swings back around to you, the frown still on his pretty mouth. It’s weird to see this expression directed at you.

“I told Smith that because that’s the answer guys like him want to hear,” He side steps you to put his desk between you and shuffles through a stack of folders. He finds the one he’s looking for and taps it on the top of the stack while he thinks. “I’m glad you felt you could come to me for this, I really am, but I can’t be that guy for you. I think- I hope you know me well enough by now to know it wouldn’t be just physical with me.”

He sets the file folder down gently on the desktop and leans on the surface, letting his head hang between his shoulders and sighing. 

“This isn’t how I was planning on talking to you about this,” He tells his desk and finally meets your eyes again. There’s some kind of emotion you can’t place there, shining at you. “I can’t do this because I’ll fall in love with you.”

His frown is turning into a small hopeful smile now. “I’m already halfway there.”

[ladamedusoif]

Christmas Market

A Merry Fic-Mas: December 18

Part of A Merry Fic-Mas: A Holiday Fic Calendar - click for masterlist.

Follow @ladameecrit for my writing updates!

Pairing: Marcus Pike x GN!Reader

Word Count: 450

Warnings: References to smut; limited strong language; no use of Y/N; no physical references to Reader.

Rating: Mature

A/N: This is intended as a follow-up to Hot Chocolate, earlier in the series. 

The steam rising off his hot spiced cider fogs Marcus’s glasses, and you laugh as he wipes the lenses clean with a gloved finger. 

“You know that’s liable to scratch the glass, right?”

He shrugs and bats his eyelashes, the picture of innocence. “And what if I just couldn’t bear to go without seeing you, even for a moment?”

You roll your eyes affectionately, sipping from your own mug. “You’re such a charmer, Marcus Pike.”

***

You never thought you’d thank the universe for a snowstorm that stranded you in the city and forced you to accept your colleague’s offer of a place to sleep. 

That said, the colleague in question was an extremely handsome, brown-eyed man with a smile that never failed to make you melt. And he’d made you the best hot chocolate you’d ever had in your life, that night. 

And then, after making out on his couch, you’d had the best sex of your life.

Thank you, snowstorm.

Marcus wraps his arm around your waist and you reciprocate the gesture, feeling the texture of his favourite navy woollen pea coat, enjoying the solidness of his torso under the layers, feeling safe and content as you wander together through the holiday market in the large square near his apartment. 

“It’s a year today,” Marcus says quietly as you admire a stall selling handmade candles. 

“A year?”

“Since the snowstorm. Right?” 

You smile coyly. “That’s right. I wasn’t sure if you wanted to mark this as our anniversary, though, or the day we decided this was more than just a one-off…”

He tilts his head in surprise, eyes twinkling behind his glasses. “That was like, a week later, wasn’t it?” 

As you nod, he leans in to kiss you slowly and softly, breaking away and making you whine at the loss of his plush, pink lips.

“So let’s take this date for our anniversary. Maybe this is embarrassing, but I kinda knew it was going to be more than a one-off as soon as I kissed you.”

You laugh and pull him flush to you with the lapels of his coat. “Same, baby. And if it had been a one-off, after the sex we had that night? I’d have been so angry.”

Marcus chuckles and reaches for your hand before resuming your carefree path through the market. The wood of the stalls is warm and homely, and the twinkling lights overhead lend the square a magical atmosphere. The air in the marketplace is heavy with the smell of cider, of hot chocolate, of sweet baked goods, mulled wine, grilled sausages, and roasting chestnuts. Overhead, the clear, midnight-blue sky crackles with midwinter frostiness - and a sense that anything was possible. 

[trulybetty]

08 x poem - marcus pike x reader

prompt: poem pairing: marcus pike x reader word count: 257 notes: fluff, line of poetry, this is a quick hit, no y/n and no physical descriptions of reader summary: again, marcus pike is king of the small romantic gestures

A/N: here on out are random Pedro Characters picked from a spinning wheel, unless I have strong feelings about a direction of a drabble. Thought it would add a layer of fun and a little challenge for myself 😋 though it seemed the universe this one was made for Marcus lol

x. masterlist

“Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate.”

You glanced up from your book and caught Marcus' gaze, the rising sun cast a warm glow across your bedroom. The city below you was slowly waking up, but at this moment, you were nestled together in your apartment with him, as if you were the only two in the world.

“Good morning to you too,” you placed your book in your lap, taking a moment to ensure the page you were on was bookmarked. “Did I wake you up?”

Marcus shook his head as he yawned, “No, just conditioned. My body hasn't got the memo that it's supposed to be on vacation,” he stretched out his arms, grabbing your book and placing it on the bedside table before pulling you against his chest.

“So what do I owe the early morning sonnet to?” you asked as his lips traced a path from your ear to the spot just behind it, you could feel the warmth of his breath against your skin. His nose nuzzled gently against your ear, sending a welcomed shiver down your spine.

You felt him shrug as he kissed your bare shoulder, “It's Valentine's Day,” he responded, but you knew this man well enough to know that he didn't need the excuse of a holiday to drop a romantic line, which made your heart swell even more as you closed your eyes, savouring the moment as you basked in the morning glow that escaped through the hazy curtains.

[pedroshotwifey]

A Real Man Frankie Morales x plus size!fem!reader - Frankie has you sit on his face. (1.2k)

Fucking Mine Dave York x fem!reader - You help Dave get out some frustrations. (839)

One Condition Marcus Pike x fem!reader x Ezra (Prospect) - You and your partner, Marcus Pike, get stranded on an inhabited planet and run into problem after problem. You find yourselves in a compromising position that requires help from a strange man, who comes to you with one condition. (4.9k)

Cramped Innocent!Din Djarin x GN!reader - As you tried to explain, the two of you really don't fit in the cockpit. (927)

Bargian Javier Peña x male!reader - You and Javi play through one of your scandalous fantasies (2.1k)

Salty Sweet Javier Peña x fem!reader - Javi eats you out on your birthday---with a deliciously kinky twist (1.3k)

Better Ezra x f!reader - You join Ezra on his unscheduled break, not knowing you're in for the ride of your lifetime. (2k)

Good 'n' Deep Fat!Frankie Morales x f!reader - Fat Frankie can't be sated. (2.6k)

What Matters Older Joel Miller x f!reader - Your and Joel's first time together turns into so much more. (1.9k)

Needy Sub!Frankie Morales x dom!f!reader - Frankie gives you control for the night and you make sure he gets the most out of it. (1.6k)

Tease Sub!Dieter Bravo x sub!GN!reader x dom!Dave York - You and Dieter think it's fun to tease Dave, and Dave thinks he should teach you both a lesson for it. (2.4k)

Toeing the Line fwb!Marcus Pike x f!reader - Can you really just be "friends"? (740)

Stress Relief Pre-outbreak Joel Miller jacking off to some porn

Mini Skirt Javier Peña x fem!coworker!reader - You start thinking down on yourself---luckily, Javi's there to lift you back up. Nothing some praise and a good fuck in his office can't fix. (2.7k)

The Right Guy X-Men!Logan x f!reader - Logan tries too hard on a first date (mostly cute fluff with a smudge of angst kind of) (1.1k)

Song fic requests:

Haunted QZ!Joel Miller x afab!reader - Haunted by Beyonce

Taste Ex!Javi x reader - Taste by Sabrina Carpenter

Requested Drabbles

Want some help on what to request? Try one of these links! (Make sure to specify which prompt list you’re using or I will assume it’s prompt list 1 :)

Prompt list 1

Prompt list 2

Prompt list 3

Prompt list 4

I am also willing to write for JDM characters (love me some Negan 🤭) , Oscar Isaac characters, Cassian Andor, Hugh Jackman characters (Logan is my fav) and Rick Grimes! Feel free to suggest a different character and I’ll see what I can do! ❤️

Small letter about the requests (basically saying that this is a safe space for all of you to request whatever you'd like!)

[whocaresstillthelouvre]

Mallory She/Her • 30's • ♊️ 💍 🤖 • NJ • 18+ Blog Minors MDNI • AO3

🌕 Harvest Moon - Jackson Joel x Elks Female Reader • 3,100 words 🫂 Wonderwall - Joel Miller x Female Reader • 4.550 words ✈️ Birds Of A Feather - Joel Miller x Female Reader • 5,320 words 🪑 Poolside - Joel Miller x Wife Reader • 900 words 📺 Teach Me How To Play Coach Miller - Austin Joel x Female Reader • 3,275 words 📚 Miller's Book Nook - Bookshop Owner Joel x Reader • 600 words 🥞 Golden Arches - Joel Miller x Female Reader • 700 words 🚿 Tenacity - Boston Joel x Female Reader • 2,300 words 🏡 Down Bad - Neighbor Joel x Female Reader • 800 words 🍃 Green - Elks Joel x Elks Female Reader • 5,100 words ☕️ Domestica - No Outbreak Joel x Female Reader • 1,100 words 💍 Paper Rings - Jackson Joel x Female Reader • 750 words 🥃 Golden Walkway - Jackson Joel x Elks Female Reader • 4,300 words

Series: 🏞️ Elks - Jackson Joel x Female Reader Re-Edit Posting Mondays ⚾️ Batter Up - Baseball Player Joel x Female Reader

🌽 Close Encounters Of The Corn Kind - Dieter Bravo x Female Reader • 1,400 words 🍫 Break Me Off A Piece - Dieter Bravo x Wife Reader • 2,000 words ✨ Starlet - Dieter Bravo x Co-Star x Wife Reader • 3,750 words 🎬 Chloe Or Sam - Dieter Bravo x GN Reader • 500 words

Series: 🎭 Golden Girl - Dieter Bravo x Female Reader • 2,900 words 🍾 Gold Rush - Chapter two of Golden Girl • 5,300 words

🌌 Shining - Din Djarin x Female Reader • 3,700 words Series: 🖥 Fifteen Minutes - Din Djarin x Cam Girl Reader AU • 4,400 words 🐐 Fifteen Weeks - Part two of Fifteen Minutes • 5,050 words

🧺 Tide - Frankie Morales x Female Reader • 1,200 words 🪩 Mirror Ball - Frankie Morales x Female Reader • 740 words

📦 Dispose Of Me - Javier Peña x Female Reader • 1,800 words 🏛️ Legionary - Marcus Acacius x Lucius Verus x Female Reader • 3,400 words 🏺 Dual - Marcus Acacius x Lucius Verus x Female Reader • 4,400 words 🛌 Sweet Sweet Girl - Incubus Max Lord x Female Reader • 1,400 words 🖼️ Do You Wanna Touch Me? - Marcus Pike x Sex Worker Female Reader • 4,200 words

[shirks-all-responsibilities]

So short and so perfectly intimate and sweet!

Marcus being so in-the-moment and so present! Loved every single detail in this, you conveyed so much in so few words! Just sitting here swooning for a bit ok? And the dimple? My heart?

But my absolute FAVE part has to be A BLUSHING MARCUS BBY at the reason why you like his Gray Sweatpants™ so much, I love himmmm!

You can choose one character to smooch on for a while on your sofa. No sex. Whom do you choose?

@ensonando Rebecca, my forever favorite 😘 I love this question, thank you for asking it!

By way of an answer, here's a little something sweet for you since it took me a million years to log in and see this 💖

You stopped caring about the movie half an hour ago.

But why would you, when Marcus’s long, broad body is a warm weight against yours, half-pressing you into the couch cushions as he seeks out the next kiss?

He’s all strong arms and sturdy thighs and the cozy softness of gray sweatpants — he’d blushed when you finally confessed why you like them so much — and when he’s holding you like this, like you’re more precious than the art he handles every day, there’s no place you’d rather be.

His scent, clean laundry and warm skin and the hint of woodsy cologne that clings to his clothes, envelops you along with his arms. The spice of the mid-afternoon tea you shared lingers on his tongue as it strokes against yours in an unhurried, almost lazy rhythm.

It’s not a prelude to something else, not a stepping stone. He’s just kissing you, enjoying you, like he has all the time in the world, with that wholehearted enthusiasm he applies to everything he cares about.

You sink your fingers into the silky tufts of his hair on a swell of affection, pulling him closer still.

Marcus’s deep, rumbled hum of contentment reverberates in your own chest and plush lips trail from your mouth to your jawline and back again. He breaks away just enough to trace the tip of his proud nose over the bridge of yours before planting a soft kiss on it.

The grin that pulls at your mouth is reflected in his own, his cheek shadowing with a dimple.

“Do you still want to go out for dinner?” he asks.

You cradle his cheek with your hand, gently drawing your thumb over the soft swell of his bottom lip. “Nope.”

His dimple deepens. Dark eyes reflect the glimmers of light from the TV, but the only stars in them are for you.

“Delivery it is,” he says, pressing a smile to your lips, like a bee to honeycomb.

[atinylittlepain]

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

..........................................................................

Here’s the thing, this never goes well. It wasn’t 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. 

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, let’s 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. It’s 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 doesn’t go offline again. 

The other thing is, unfortunately, she’s 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 won’t 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 can’t she be like that? Why can’t 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. 

If she’s being honest, she thought about canceling her labs. No, doc, all good, doc, don’t 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 here’s the nurse opening the door and right, calling her name, and it’s a man nurse, male nurse, though she’s pretty sure she’s 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 hadn’t 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 that’s just great because now man nurse, sorry, just nurse, probably thinks she’s constipated and she’d rather not have the, actually, very handsome, just nurse, thinking that on top of whatever she’s got going on that necessitates lab work she also can’t take a shit. Right. 

“We’re going to be in this room right here.” Handsome just nurse has a nice voice too, deep but kind, and a strong jawline, and a patchy beard but she likes that it’s patchy, and he’s tan and he’s 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 that’s probably why he’s 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 she’s supposed to answer it. 

“I’m sorry, could you say that again?” 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. 

“It says on this order that these labs need to be taken fasted. Can you confirm to me that you haven’t had anything to eat or drink besides water in the last twelve hours?” 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. 

“I should let you know I have, um, bad veins? Honestly, you can just start with my hands, I don’t mind it. And also, I’m a fainter, yeah, so, it happens every time, just so you know.” And usually, usually, her spiel is given very little notice, mmmokay, hon. Sure, they’ll lay her back, how merciful, so she doesn’t crack her skull open on the way out of conscious orbit. That’s about it, though. But this time, she thinks, might just be different.

“Okay, thank you for giving me the heads up. If you’re sure you’re alright with starting with the hands then it’s fine by me to get it done that way.” 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 doesn’t seem to presently be working. 

“Just gonna feel around a bit here for a good one.” 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 he’s 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 that’s 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 they’re doing about the whole thing. And she’s no expert, obviously, but he’s got a very nice, very visible vein in his forearm, and she bets phlebotomists love him, bets that when he gets blood drawn, he’s 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. 

“I can count you down, or you can look away and I’ll just get it done, whichever you prefer.”

“Uh, no preference, I’ll just look away and you can do whatever you want to me.” 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 she’s made her fucking phlebotomist uncomfortable, possibly one of the last people you want to make uncomfortable. But if that, whatever that was, lingers, he doesn’t 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, she’s good at this part, letting her eyes sweep up and to the right, because he’s 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.

“This might take a little longer, just because we’re drawing from your hand.”

“I’ll bleed as fast as I can then.” At the very least, he laughs, even though she wishes she had kept that one to herself. 

“Do you live around here?”

“What kind of question is that?”

“Sorry, I’m trying to distract you.” 

“Didn’t they teach you how to do that in like, phlebotomy school?” 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.

“Not really, I could ask you about the weather, is that better?” 

“It’s cloudy. Not much of a conversation starter.” 

“Well, why don’t you ask me something, since you’re such an expert on starting conversations.”

“Do you have a golden retriever?”

“What?”

“Sorry, you just, you look like the kind of guy who’d have a golden retriever.” Another tube clicks into place, but she’s not paying any attention to that now. 

“Uh, no, no golden retriever. I do however have a very old, very deaf pit mix named Lucille.” Goddamnit, somehow that’s hotter than the golden retriever. 

“Great name.”

“Yeah, I thought so too. She came with it when I adopted her.” God. Fucking. Damn it. What next, is he a volunteer firefighter on the weekends?

“Alright, that’s the last one.”

“Wait, really?” She chances a skittish glance but, sure enough, the needle is out.

“Yep, just let me get a band-aid for you and you’re all set.” 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 it’s possible to put a phlebotomist on retainer. 

“If you want to sit for a minute and make sure you’re feeling alright before getting up that’s totally fine. I can also get you water or juice if you’re getting lightheaded.” 

“Oh, no, I’m fine actually. Which, hey, thanks for not making me faint and stuff– that’s a first for me in a very long–” 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 and–

“Easy, easy, I’m gonna help you sit up, okay?” His voice is a little fuzzy around the edges. To be honest, he’s 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, she’s still a little slumped, still a little vacant, and a little warm, actually, which is new, and a little pleasant, and, oh, it’s 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 shouldn’t, but it kind of works. 

“You feeling okay?”

“Mmmhmm.” She’s afraid of what might come out of her mouth if she doesn’t 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. 

“So, you really weren’t kidding about that happening every time, huh?” 

“Nope, wish I was. It’s– I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what?”

“That you had to deal with that.”

“You don’t have to be sorry about that, it’s part of the job. And actually, you fainted about as perfectly as I could’ve asked you to.”

“I didn’t know you could faint like, well.” 

“Right before you went down you said I’m gonna faint. That’s a lot better than getting no heads up and turning around to find my patient unresponsive on the ground.” 

“Oh gee, I bet you say that to all your patients.” Lord, if there was ever a time to put her out of her misery it’d 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 you’re at it. 

“I take it you’re feeling better then? Are you okay to walk out to the front desk?” 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. 

…

“Yes, this is she speaking.” 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. 

“Oh, great, thank you for letting me know. Do you know– did things look okay?” 

“We don’t interpret the results, ma’am. Your doctor will go over that with you.” She doesn’t quite catch that, doesn’t catch the woman’s ma’am? either, a little preoccupied with staring down the aisle, because is that? Is he? He looks good out of the scrubs. 

“Ma’am?”

“Sorry, no, um, of course. Thanks again.” If the woman had anything else to tell her, it’s a little too late for it, already hung up, and she’s trying to decide if she wants him to see her, or if fleeing immediately is the best course of action. He probably wouldn’t even recognize her, she thinks. It’s been a couple of weeks since the whole ordeal. And actually, she’d prefer if he didn’t 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 isn’t sure, but he’s pretty sure. He says her name like a question. Guilty as charged.

“Marcus, right?” 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, she’s a goner. 

“How have you been since we– you, well–”

“Since I passed out on you?” Yeah, that, he laughs out and yeah, she likes him, sue her. 

“Just for the record, I believe it was you who said I passed out perfectly, so.” Shrug, so, he takes a step closer, leans in a little like he’s going to tell her a secret. In the cereal aisle, of all places. 

“Just for the record, I really don’t say that to all my patients.”

“No?”

“Nope, just the nervous, pretty ones.”

“I was not nervous.”

“You weren’t?”

“Nope.”

“Are you just gonna blow past the other thing?”

“What thing?”

“The pretty thing.”

“Yep.” 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. 

“So, you do live around here then?” 

“Mm, yeah, I do. And so do you?”

“I do.”

“Nice, nice.”

“Lovely weather we’re having.”

“Wow.” 

“What? I’m making conversation.”

“You’re still not very good at it.”

“I’ll keep working on it for you.”

“Sure, okay. What kind of cereal do you get?”

“What kind do you think I get?”

“You look like a Kashi guy, if I’m honest.”

“Somehow I feel insulted.”

“Well.”

“You’re not even right either.” 

“No? What do you get then?” 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. 

“Apple cinnamon, seriously?”

“What? It’s a classic.”

“Actually, you know what, that tracks.” 

“What do you get?” She waggles her basket in front of him in response, goods already procured. 

“Peanut butter chex, respectable choice.”

“Thank you, thank you.” 

“You know, I’d say we’re pretty good at this conversation thing.”

“Yeah, we’re not bad.”

“Do you want to do this again sometime? Not in the cereal aisle?”

“What, you mean like in the produce section?” He smiles at that, rolls his eyes, his basket lightly bonking against hers. 

“I was thinking more like dinner, or drinks if that’s your thing?” 

“I might be free on Saturday.”

“I might also be free on Saturday.” 

“Well, sounds like we’re both free on Saturday.”

“Can I get your number?” His lockscreen is a picture of a dog. Lucille, he tells her, before she was very old and very deaf. She can’t help how big her smile gets at that. 

“Text me, and we’ll do this whole conversation thing again.” 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 doesn’t think twice about nodding again. 

“Oh yeah, we didn’t have to use your hand. I could have totally gotten it from here.” 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 can’t help the incredulous laugh that rises up in her chest. 

“Really? You’re still stuck on that, huh?” He smiles something sheepish, pad of his thumb rubbing an apology into her skin before pulling away. She didn’t really want him to pull away.

“Sorry, occupational hazard, I guess.” 

“Kinda weird, you know.”

“Did I just ruin this whole thing?”

“Mmm, no, I kinda like it.”

“So, Saturday?”

“Looking forward to it, Marcus.” 

[agentmarcuspike]

marcus pike x gn!reader

– written for PMAMC24

summary: marcus asks you for something he's wanted for some time... cws: pegging, use of a strap-on, reader doesn't have a penis, anal fingering, rimming, showering together, established romantic relationship (2+ years), lots of lube, wet wet wet (not the group), sweet sappy romance, cum play (?), coming untouched, pet names (baby, darling, good boy), begging a lil bit word count: 2.2k

“Do you love me?”

You’re on the couch with your legs resting in Marcus’ lap when he asks you. He’s been rubbing your feet absentmindedly for a while, his thighs unusually tense under your calves, and the question seems to come out of nowhere. It’s not like him at all to doubt your feelings for him, so you sit up to look at him when you answer.

“Of course, baby!” Your hand rests on his shoulder, and you squeeze it lightly. He squeezes your foot back, but his eyes still examine the carpet. “Why?” 

A heavy sigh escapes him when he finally looks at you, a slight blush coloring his cheeks. The warmth from his face almost reaches yours. 

“Even if I asked you something weird?” 

“Yes, Marcus, I’d still love you if you were a worm,” you jokingly comfort him. 

He laughs. “Good to know,” he says, no longer avoiding your eyes.

A few more seconds pass before he speaks again.

“A different kind of weird this time. It’s just something I’ve been thinking about lately… Don’t get me wrong, I’m not dissatisfied with our sex life or anything!” You raise your brows. So that’s what this is about. “There’s just something I’d like to try. If you’re up for it.”

You agree of course, there’s nothing to complain about when it comes to your intimate moments. It has never, during your two years together, gotten boring, monotonous, or uninteresting. You’ve tried out a few things, some kinks you’ve been curious about. A little bit of this and that. But you can’t imagine what Marcus would be so embarrassed to ask you for.

“Sometimes when we’re fucking…” he begins. Just hearing him say the word excites you. “I get a little jealous of you,” he admits after a pause.

You take a second to let it sink in. “Jealous?! Of me…?” Brows knit tight, you search his face for information. “While we’re fucking…?” 

Marcus throws his head back on the couch with a groan and grabs your legs, shaking them a little in frustration. “I thought this was a safe space!” 

You lean forward then, grabbing his face with both hands, kissing him on the lips. “It is! I’m sorry, it is! I just don’t understand!” you share with a laugh. Pulling away, you make sure he looks at you before you continue patiently, “Tell me more, please.”

“Well… I think it’s that, sometimes I wish I could have you inside of me the same way I’m inside of you. Don’t get me wrong, I love being inside of you,”

“Mm, I love that too,” you tease. 

“But I guess I wanna… I want to feel you. Inside of me. Everywhere, really, there’s nowhere I don’t want you, but…” He drifts off. 

“Marcus…” you begin. “Do you want me to peg you?”

“It sounds so unsexy when you say it like that.”

“Sorry. Marcus, do you want me to fill you up? Fuck you as good as you fuck me?”

“I do, I want that.” 

A few days later you both feel prepared. Finding a strap-on together, picking the lube, reading up on how to prepare. It’s all made you more and more excited, and when the night you’ve chosen finally arrives, the tension between you is almost thicker than it was right before your first time together. 

The evening starts off in the shower, where you help each other scrub down. 

Marcus’ skin is warm and soft against yours when you lie down beside him in bed. You trace a drop of water on his chest that has yet to dry with your finger, from his clavicle and down to his belly button, where it makes a little pool. A shiver runs through Marcus at the caress. His hair is still damp as you run your hands through it. Slow kisses turn more desperate, and you grab at each other everywhere but the places that scream the loudest for attention. 

When your hand eventually makes its way down to his groin he’s already hard and leaking precum. His breath hitches as you pump him lazily, a pained groan escaping him as his hips lift off the mattress to hurry your movements. 

His eagerness to have you in him is electric. Goosebumps on his skin tickle yours, and you swallow every sound he makes, your open mouth hovering over his. Once his eagerness turns to desperation, you lean in to whisper, lips brushing the shell of his ear: “Wanna take my time with you.”

Teasingly slow, not breaking eye contact, you make your way down the bed, and settle between his legs. You bend down, placing a kiss on his belly, nose brushing through his pubes as you move downwards. With careful hands, you slowly guide his thighs further apart until you have all of him open before you.

With the tip of your tongue, you shower his tight hole with little kitten licks, letting your tongue glide all the way up to his balls every now and then, sucking lightly on the sensitive skin. Stroking, touching, caressing every inch of skin you can reach, Marcus writhes under your touch, pushing himself into your face, wanting you closer, closer still. His cock twitches above you, so you reach a hand up to touch him. His hand shoots down to wrap around yours, speeding up your movements. 

“Slow, baby, slow,” you encourage. Your suggestion is only met with a whine.

“Are you so desperate for me to fill you up? Such a needy boy tonight?” 

His voice is hoarse with anticipation when he whispers a helpless “yes”. 

In no rush at all, you sit up to open the bottle of lube which lies ready on your nightstand. The transparent gel is cold on your fingers and you squeeze a generous amount onto your middle and index fingers before you turn back to Marcus. You press yourself into his side, chest flush with his bicep. Softly, slowly, your mouths find each other again, and your hand makes its way down. 

“Spread more for me, honey,” you instruct into his mouth. His thighs fall apart, and your fingers find his opening. You paint tiny circles, spreading the cold lube, pressing in ever so slightly. Marcus jumps a little at the contact, but soon he’s putty in your hands, losing himself in the feeling of your fingers gliding into him, slowly but surely. The first two knuckles of your middle finger are fully sheathed in him when you add more lube, making the transition to two fingers easier. 

The way he squeezes around your digits, warm and pulsing, is almost intoxicating, and you suddenly understand his jealousy. There’s no way for you to be closer to him than you are right now. He knows your insides, you know his. If you could, you’d open up his chest and crawl inside. Instead, you bury your face in his neck, enjoying the feeling of working him open, stretching him out. Little moans and gasps from him as you get deeper lets you know he likes it, and you curl your fingers upwards as you grind yourself against his thigh. 

“Do you want more?” You ask, almost answering yourself. Yes. 

“Yes,” he begs feebly. “Want you. Need you,” And he sounds so forlorn you can only oblige. 

The floor is cold under your feet as you get up. You’ve prepared the harness on your dresser already, so all you have to do is strap it on. On the bed Marcus is stroking himself lazily, his eyes growing dark as he’s watching you tighten the belt around your waist and thighs. 

“Oh, darling,” he breathes. You give him a playful twirl, making him giggle. It’s an incredible sight, your man spread out and ready for you on your bed, eyes full of lust and a smile on his lips. All desire is not yearning. This is something more. You catch yourself swallowing harshly to avoid tearing up at the scene. What kind of saint must you have been in your past life to deserve a man like Marcus in this one? You return his loving smile, silicone bouncing in your harness as you climb back onto the bed. 

Settling between his legs, you once again grab the bottle of lube. You squirt some more on your fingers to spread over his hole, before aiming it down at the silicone. “Say when,” you say, unable to control yourself, as you cover it with the gel. Marcus rolls his eyes in faux annoyance, but he can’t hide the smirk playing on his face. He loves you. You know it.

His strong thighs bracket yours, and you let your thumb rub a few soft circles on the soft skin of his hip before you line yourself up. 

“Are you ready for me?” You lean over him, placing a hand on each side of him, hovering over his torso as you push ever so slightly, but not enough to breach him. He only moans in response. Your arms bend and you lower yourself down on your elbows, trapping his desperate cock between you, your open mouth breathing into his. 

“Do you want me inside of you?” He throbs against your stomach while he nods. 

“Fuck, yes, I do.”

And with one long slow motion, you push inside of him. 

For a second you think you can feel it, the silicone an extension of your body. His hot breath fills your mouth when he gasps, and you breathe it in, replacing the air in your lungs with him. He’s tight, clenching hard around the thick length you’ve buried in him, so you sit very still, letting him adjust. 

His eyes are on yours, hands cupping your face with his thumb resting where your jawbone meets your ear. The furrow between his brows, the one that deepens when he concentrates, speaks for him. 

“Is it too much?” you ask, furrowing your own.

“Almost,” he chokes, voice a restrained rasp. 

Worried you’ve hurt him, you quickly ask “should I pull out?”, and you’re about to do it when his hands fly from your face to your ass.

“No.” 

His big hands give your cheeks a light squeeze, and with a little pressure he keeps you in place. 

“No,” he repeats, a whisper this time, a request, as he covers your lips with his own. 

With slow shifts of your hips, you move in and out, pushing sweet noises out of him with every thrust. His hands glide across your skin, coming to rest over your forearms. The only moments he takes his eyes off you are when they roll to the back of his head and he groans in pleasure. 

“That’s it,” you encourage. “Take it, baby. Take all of me.”

And he does. With every thrust, his breath grows shallower, and you can tell he’s getting close. Your stomachs are sticky with sweat and precome, joining the slick sounds from the lube in an obscene duet performed by your bodies. You bury your hands in his hair, gently pulling at it, making him mewl and whimper, as if he’s an instrument and only you can make him sing. 

Marcus grinds against you, impatient, and you scan his face as you change your pace, trying to find the spot inside him that will send him over the edge. You know you’ve found it when his mouth opens in an O, sore lips pouting, and his brows shoot together, giving him an almost quizzical expression, like he can’t believe what’s happening. 

“Oh shit, I’m–”

And before you can even sit back to take his cock in your hand, the space between your bodies is filled by his spend, thick ropes of cum running down the sides of his torso as you fuck him through his orgasm. You cup his face with one hand, nose brushing his.

“So good, baby. Give me all of it.”

He holds his breath with eyes squeezed shut, while his cock twitches a few more times, still trapped in the wet mess of sweat, cum, and lubrication between you. The silence is just as sticky as you watch Marcus catch his breath and fight to open his eyes. 

“Jesus Christ,” he whispers with a laugh. You giggle back, and kiss the tip of his nose. It’s cold, despite his flushed face and skin glistening with sweat.

“I’m gonna pull out now,” you warn him. A strained groan escapes him as you do, and you collapse on your back at his side, his strong arm around your shoulders. For a minute you just lie there with your eyes closed and breathe together, reveling in the hazy blissful moment. 

With a sigh, Marcus buries his nose in your hair, squeezing your shoulder lightly with his hand.

“Thank you,” he says, softly. You turn to face him. His eyes are still glazed over, and he looks so content and satisfied you can’t bear the thought of dragging him out of bed to hit the shower again.

“Anytime,” you wink, as you roll out of bed. His hand flexes a few times, as if trying to hold you back, but he quickly gives up and lets you go. Through heavy eyelids he watches you cross the bedroom floor. 

“Amazing,” he says absentmindedly, mostly to himself, eyeing the harness and the indents it has left on your skin as you shimmy out of it. You give him a warm smile before opening the door.

“I’ll get something to clean you up. Be right back.”

When you return with a warm washcloth, he’s fast asleep, stomach still painted with the two of you, and face still painted with contentment.

a/n: thanks to gin @wannab-urs for organizing this year's "Peg That Middle-Aged Man Campaign", and all the other writers for inspiring content! divider by @saradika-graphics and graphic by me.

[shirks-all-responsibilities]

That opener about the kiss grabbed me SO quickly...

A "you take my sadness and I'll take yours" type of kiss? My heart? That third paragraph??? How that lingering pace has such meaning? I already care about these two so much?

Oh my goodness, your Marcus! So sweet and respectful and nervous, admitting this sort of thing is a first for him, but THEN that "when it came down to it he knew what to do," OH THIS MAN, the duality of him? I love him so much.

The way reader interprets their connection and Marcus' intent and leaves without saying a word? My heart just about broke for sweet bby Marcus, just imagining the impact of that after something so new for him, beloved angstttt my heartttt.

And then that surprise shocked moment of meeting again, AHHHHH! The department HEAD? Oh this setup is so juicy.

There's also something to be said about how this is relatively short, how smartly you quickly convey things but also how it feels so brisk, in a way that matches so well with the vibe of this troubled reader who seems to have gone through some things.

I enjoyed reading this and being introduced to these two so much! Thanks for sharing! Looking forward to reading what happens next...

Take the long way home

Part 1

Fandom: The Mentalist

Pairing: Marcus Pike x Reader (no pronouns)

Warnings: 18+, mentions of sex, alcohol mention, one night stand, cursing, reader is going through a bit of a messy time in general. More to come for future parts.

Word Count: 1k

Summary:  Classic story, right? You meet a handsome man in a gallery, let him take you home, and plan to never see him again. Of course, these things rarely go to plan.

It had started with a kiss. As it often does.

Keep reading

[ladamedusoif]

Secrets (Marcus Pike x GN!Reader)

A Merry Fic-Mas - December 24

Part of A Merry Fic-Mas: A Pedro Boy Holiday Fic Calendar - click for masterlist.

Follow my writing blog @ladameecrit and turn on notifications to keep up with my writing.

Pairing: Marcus Pike x GN!Reader 

Word count: 1743

Rating: Teen

Warnings: Angst; fluff; references to parental illness; no use of Y/N; no physical descriptions of reader; no gendered pronouns; minor swearing

A/N: This can be read as a standalone, but I wrote it thinking of Marcus and Reader from ‘Hot Chocolate’ and ‘Christmas Market’ in this series.

“How’s Marcus?” Your mother’s voice is bright and breezy on the call.

You pause a little too long for her liking. 

“Is everything okay?”

“It’s fine, mom, it’s just…he’s not himself, lately. I thought we were all set for the holidays - you know how we booked a little cabin in the Blue Ridge Mountains - but every time I try to talk about packing or planning, he gets tetchy and weird.”

“Maybe it’s work stress? He does have a lot on. Poor Marcus.”

“So do I, mom, and I’m not taking it out on him. Every time I ask him outright he just says everything’s fine but it isn’t. It’s like he’s hiding something from me.”

Your mother tut-tuts. “That’s not Marcus. He would never keep secrets from you.”

“I wish I could be as confident as you are.”

***

With Christmas falling on a Monday, you and Marcus had planned to take off on the Saturday morning, making the most of the extra days off before the holiday. By Friday night, he’s got the bags ready to load into the car and your refrigerator is groaning with food for the vacation, all ready to be stacked in cool bags for the journey.

Things hadn’t improved much in the time since you’d voiced your fears to your mother. Marcus remained unusually tetchy and irritable, a far cry from his usual sunny self. He insisted he was looking forward to the time away with you, but there was just something off. Something hidden underneath the surface, and for the first time in your relationship he had put up enough defences so that you couldn’t reveal the truth. 

Maybe he’s unhappy, you think to yourself. Maybe the vacation is make or break.

Your stomach churns as you imagine five days away with Marcus while he tries to decide if you need to end the relationship or not. 

Your phone rings as you’re sorting out a couple of bottles of wine for the trip. Mom. You brush it off, muttering to yourself that you’ll call her later, once the packing is done. 

It’s barely two minutes later that Marcus comes into the kitchen, talking on his phone while trying to catch your attention. 

“I’ll put you on now…sure. Sure. Well, I’m sure he’ll be okay, I’m so sorry - okay, keep us posted.”

He hands you the phone, mouthing “Your mom”.

“Mom?”

“Oh, darling, I’m sorry… you’re probably up to your neck with packing and sorting for the trip.”

“Just tell me, mom. You wouldn’t call Marcus if it wasn’t urgent.”

“Darling…it’s your dad. He’s had a fall, he’s in hospital, and -”

Your heart drops. “Mom, is he okay?”

She pauses a second too long. “Fine, fine… just hasn’t regained consciousness yet but it’s fine! I just felt you would be angry if I waited until after your trip to tell you. But it’s fine!”

“Mom, you’ve said ‘it’s fine’ so many times I’m pretty sure it isn’t fine.”

“Sweetheart, please just go on your trip and we’ll keep you posted. Okay?”

You become aware of Marcus peeking around the corner, trying to assess your mood from the tone of your voice and your body language. 

“Did the doctors say when they think he’ll regain consciousness?”

Another pause.

“They’re not sure, sweetie.”

You look up at Marcus, your eyes looking into his as you tell your mom you’ll be home tomorrow.

***

He swears it’s fine, but you know Marcus is annoyed. Or hurt. Or maybe a mix of both. 

Shit, maybe this really was a make or break vacation.

He had offered to come with you, but you dissuaded him, not wanting him to have to be thrown head-first into the madness that was your family - crisis or no crisis. 

“I’ll just stay here, I guess.” He casts an eye over the bags in the hallway. 

“Babe, no.” You wrap your arms around his waist. “We paid for the cabin and it’s too late to cancel now. It would be a pity not to use it at all. You’ve got that stack of reading you want to do. And, like, when dad wakes up I can come down and join you. What do you think?”

He doesn’t quite meet your gaze. “I guess.”

“I love you, Marcus. I’m so sorry.”

He sucks on the inside of his cheek and kisses you - not on the mouth, but on the cheek. “I love you, too.”

***

When you arrive home in Ohio you hop straight in a cab to the hospital, where your mother and siblings have spent the night keeping vigil. You try not to panic when you see your dad, hooked up to a morass of tubes and wires. 

“The doctors say it looks worse than it is,” your older sister explained. She holds out a bag of peppermint candies. “Candy?”

It’s several hours before you realise you haven’t let Marcus know you got there safely, like you promised. Too busy trying to get a clear answer from your mom about what, exactly, the doctors have said, and distracted by trying to track down a doctor to discuss a prognosis. 

Hey babe - I’m sorry, I have been talking to my mom and the doctors here. Dad okay, still no sign of improvement but stable. Love you - call you tomorrow.

You spend that night at the hospital, insisting that your mom go home and rest. You watch the dark sky brighten, slowly but surely, as Christmas Eve dawns. 

“It’s Christmas Eve, dad,” you murmur, unsure if he can hear you or not. “You’re not in the drunk tank, though,” you joke, referring to his favourite Christmas song, ‘Fairytale of New York’. “Just in hospital. I’ll let you know if the NYPD choir turns up.”

You get up and stretch your legs, wandering into the hallway in search of caffeine and sugar. The hospital cafe is quiet and you grab a cup of black coffee and a donut before returning to your dad’s floor. 

Panic sets in when you see nurses moving in and out of his room. One of them turns, spots you, and grins. 

“He’s waking up! Can you call your mom?”

By lunchtime, he’s fully awake and talking, grumbling about not being allowed home for Christmas. You duck out later in the afternoon to call Marcus and update him.

It goes straight to voicemail.

***

The hot shower feels like heaven as you rinse away the strain of the last couple of days. Well, some of it, anyway. Marcus still hasn’t answered your calls.

Thankfully, you’ve found a distraction, volunteering to prep some food at your parents’ house that can be easily taken to the hospital for Christmas Day. You slip on a pair of soft old sweatpants and a college hoodie and pad around the kitchen, filling some Tupperware containers with individual servings of cold cuts and salads while listening to the cheesy Christmas show on the local radio station.

You crawl into bed late that night, casting one final glance at your phone. 

Still nothing.

***

You stir awake at about two in the morning, roused by a thumping noise coming from somewhere in the house. As your brain adjusts, you realise it’s someone knocking on the door. 

You grab your brother’s old baseball bat as you descend the stairs. Can’t hurt to be prepared, after all. And you’re pretty sure this isn’t Santa Claus calling.

You open the door slowly, reluctantly. 

A pair of coffee-brown eyes. A soft, uncertain smile. Cheeks flushed with cold. 

“Marcus?”

He rubs his hands together and stamps his feet. “Can I come in? Got really cold in the car on the way up here.”

You fling your arms around him as he steps inside, forgetting the strangeness of the last few weeks. “What the hell are you doing here?”

He holds his soft, dark green knitted cap in his hands and looks nervous. Really nervous.

“I… I had to see you.”

Oh, shit. Wait - is he going to break up with you on Christmas morning? While your dad’s in hospital?!

“Ooookay.”

“Baby, I -” He falters. “This isn’t how I wanted to do this.”

He is definitely about to break up with you. And good riddance, because he’s clearly heartless.

“Just get it over and done with, Marcus.”

He takes a deep breath and exhales, long and slow.

“I wanted to have the space to do this at the cabin, y’know?”

“Marcus. Just say it.”

“Baby, I’m so grateful for you - you’re the most incredible person I’ve ever met, so kind, so loving, and -”

You’ve had it. “Marcus - just say you don’t want to be with me. You’ve been weird for weeks. You’re here on Christmas fucking Day, having driven a seven-hour journey to get here. You obviously can’t be with me a minute longer, so you might as well just -”

He has dropped to one knee.

Wait. What?

“I wanted to ask you to marry me.”

Your jaw drops. For once, you’re stunned into silence.

“Baby?”

“I…Marcus. I just…is this…fuck.”

He reaches into his coat pocket and presents you with a little box. “Um, do you mind if I stand up again? My knees aren’t what they used to be.”

You chuckle and help him to his feet, before opening the box to find a perfect, simple engagement ring. 

“I can’t believe it, Marcus.”

He shrugs. “You seemed sure we were about to break up. I’m sorry I’ve been so stressed the last few weeks, my love. I was just readying everything for a perfect proposal, in the mountains, and I was so worried you’d say no, and then the ring was delayed, and then - well. And then your dad got sick. But he’s awake? I’m sorry, I only just saw your messages. My phone was in the trunk.”

You lift your gaze from the ring. “He’s awake. And I’m sorry, too - I didn’t know what you were keeping from me, and I didn’t even think of this.”

Marcus raises an eyebrow. “You didn’t think I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you?”

You chuckle. “Mmmm. Maybe I thought a man as perfect as you couldn’t possibly want someone like me.”

He pulls you tight to him and kisses you. “Baby, you forgot something.”

You look confused. “I did?”

“You didn’t give me an answer yet.”

Tears shining in your eyes, you slip the ring on your finger. “A million times yes, Marcus Pike. Provided there are no more secrets.”