#this was all shittily done over the course of three lunch breaks

[itsahotminuteinbetween]

small wip I don't feel like finishing

[mellowswriting]

Congrats on 100! For the requests can you write something with Marcus Pike where he never knew the reader had tattoos because her ex hated them so she covers them up with their clothing. I hope its not too specific or odd ❤ (Sorry if this sent multiple times, im having internet issues)

Ink

pairing || Marcus Pike x Reader

summary ||  Marcus discovers your tattoos - and why you hid them from him.

word count || 1,546

warnings || shitty ex, kinda hurt/comfort

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Your day, put simply, was going absolutely shittily.

First, you woke up feeling amazingly well rested. Sounds like a great thing, right? No. Unbeknownst to you, your phone charger became unplugged and your phone had died overnight. Without your alarms to get you up and caffeinated, you were left to scramble into your office attire and out the door with a frazzled mind and zero coffee in hand. You knew better than to try to tackle what was starting as a difficult day without the energy boost, so you bit the bullet and stopped at a café on your way to work. 

Foolishly, you thought your morning was looking up when you made it through the line in record time - until you took a sip of your coffee and simultaneously burned the everloving hell out of your tongue and learned that your order was not only incorrect, but entirely undrinkable. The attitude in which you dropped the to go cup into the trash outside of FBI headquarters could’ve brought the entire building down, but that was neither here nor there. You couldn’t find it in you to be frustrated with the sweet baristas at the café - they were overwhelmed with the morning rush, after all. No, your frustration was placed solely on the universe.  

In a last ditch effort to save your morning, you stopped by the break room for a cup of shitty office coffee to take back into your little office. You were frazzled enough that the team didn’t stop you on your march through the bullpen. With the blinds open to let the early morning sunshine warm your back, you settled at your desk and finally took what felt like the first somewhat calm breath since you opened your eyes. You grabbed your worn notepad and began jotting down the list of tasks you had to get done that day, grateful that it was mostly humdrum paperwork and not anything grueling. You wouldn’t have had the spoons for that. 

There was something about having each of your responsibilities laid out and ready for you to tackle that made you feel much better. A small light at the end of the tunnel. You took a deep breath and began filling out your latest case reports, your practiced fingers flying over the keys of your laptop. Of course, in true fashion, the universe decided to put you in your place. You reached for your coffee, eyes still on the laptop screen, and severely misjudged the distance and managed to tip the cup over. 

“Son of a bitch!” You hissed, shooting out of your seat at the bite of hot coffee dripping down your front. Instinct had you ripping your blazer off and pulling at the buttons of your blouse, desperate to get the soaked fabric away from your skin. At least you were wearing a tank top beneath it, even though it was thin enough to be almost see through. “You have got to be kidding me.” 

Three quick knocks rapped against your door and you didn’t even have to guess who it was - Marcus Pike, your coworker, good friend and his latest title - boyfriend. He never strayed in his little patterned knocking, something you found endearing even when you were having a comically bad morning. 

“Come on in, Marcus!” You called out as you dug around in your drawers for the wipes you kept there. Marcus entered with a bright smile that faltered slightly at your disheveled state. Your tone is almost sarcastic as you continue. “Good morning.” 

“Oh, honey.” Marcus said, quickly closing the door behind him before anyone could catch a glimpse of you sliding your blouse off. The dark, intricate lines inked into your skin caught his eye immediately but he didn’t let his gaze linger. 

He couldn’t lie - he had noticed the constant long-sleeved blouses and sweaters you wore, but didn’t pry. If you had something you wanted to hide from the world, Marcus was sure you would tell him when you were ready to. But now that he knew it was just what appeared to be some amazing tattoos, he was a bit confused. They were beautiful. Why would you want to hide them? 

You were obviously having a hard time. The hard set of your jaw and scrunched state of your eyebrows would have been enough to tell him that even if he wasn’t watching you try to clean the coffee from your skin with a pack of wet wipes. Your hair wasn’t tied back like it usually would. Instead it hung loose around your shoulders, falling in your face every now and then and making you huff in annoyance. 

Annoyed, sticky, and absolutely over the day, and you still looked god damn ethereal. How did he get so lucky?

“How can I help?” Marcus asked as he rounded your desk and you gave him a grateful smile. 

“Can you grab the extra shirt from the cupboard? Thank god I have a back up at least.” If there was one thing you could always count on, it was Marcus Pike being the best man on Earth. You smiled when he handed you the clean shirt before he began wiping your desk clean. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

“Of course,” Marcus tossed the soiled wipes into your trashcan, grinning and pumping his arm animatedly when they went in. What an adorable dork. He ran his hands up and down your biceps gently and you almost shivered at the warmth of his palms. “What happened?”

“Coffee has betrayed me at every turn this morning.” You pouted again as you leaned into his chest. The sight of Marcus staring down at you with that concerned, loving gaze made fluttering erupt in your belly. 

“So I suppose I shouldn’t ask if you want to get some with me for lunch, huh?” Marcus asked with that breathtaking mischievous smile and you couldn’t help but crack up at him. His thumbs rubbed circles into your skin and you glanced down, watching his fingertip run over the lines of your tattoo. You realized with a jolt that he had never seen them before. 

Your body art was something you loved - you didn’t spend endless hours in a chair getting stabbed with needles a million times for nothing. The dark swirls of ink were intricate, something that you used to be complimented on often. Until your ex came along, of course. It wasn’t as if you hid them from him. No, he was well aware that you had tattoos and planned to get more, so when he asked you to cover them up before going out one night you had been confused, and then pissed. 

Who the hell had he been to tell you to hide a part of yourself that you loved?

Those subtle requests morphed into small jabs and complaints. Over time, you began covering them by habit, trying to avoid the whole mess altogether. It wasn’t worth arguing about, you convinced yourself. Once he tried to convince you to get them removed? No, that was the last straw. Even though he wasn’t even a blip on your radar, you still found yourself keeping them covered, a small, insecure voice in your head warning you of a threat that was no longer there. 

You held your arm out, giving him silent permission to openly follow the linework, and Marcus took the opportunity with a smile. His touch was as gentle as ever, up and down your arm from piece to piece. “Sorry, I know they aren’t everyone’s cup of tea,”

“Do you like them?” The question catches you off guard but you nod immediately. There wasn’t a doubt in your mind about their importance to you or their beauty. Marcus shrugged. “Nothing else matters then.”

Tension you hadn’t even realized you had been holding melted away from your chest. The way he looked at you… it was the same appreciation and intensity he reserved for the artwork obtained by the team, his gaze hungry for every detail he had the honor of seeing firsthand. 

“Do you like them?” You whispered, your curiosity getting the better of you. 

“They’re beautiful.” Marcus doesn’t miss a beat. “I’d love to hear the stories behind them, if there are any.”

“Yeah, there are a few.” You guided his hand up to press a kiss to his knuckles before settling back on your arm, your chest thick with an emotion you couldn’t quite name. Marcus immediately began following the lines again and you chuckled. “You really like them, huh?”

“Honestly? I think they’re sexy.” Marcus murmured as he pulled you against his chest by your waist and you positively flushed. The image of Marcus’s tongue tracing your tattoos enveloped you unbiddenly. You bit back a groan - that man was going to be the death of you. 

You pressed up on your tiptoes and kissed him. The woes of your morning faded into the background at the delighted sound he gave against your lips, one hand abandoning your waist to hold you steady at your jaw. You draped your arms over his shoulders and lost yourself in his warmth, his comfort. There wasn’t a thing in this world that Marcus couldn’t make better with a few soft words and a gentle touch.