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a1most-perfec7 · 2 years

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Something More | Marcus White x Reader

[FWB to lovers. I wrote a few months back and just forgot about it I guess.]

It was like any other day working at Cloud9; Aimee fulfilling her managerial role, Dina stalking and stammering the progress of other workers, and Cheyenne and Mateo gossiping at the centre of the store. You moved from the break room, ready to begin your first shift of the day when you spot Marcus distracting Glenn across the way. You smile a lopsided grin at the sight of him; a just under six foot tall dummy of a man. Your dummy.

The "on again off again" rendezvous you had with Marcus was a little confusing. A part of you loved sneaking around the workplace, meeting up in one of the cozy corners of the warehouse for a heavy petting make out session. Oftentimes ending with a little fooling around. It was exciting, the adrenaline running through your veins at the mere idea of being exposed in such compromising positions with Marcus.

With Marcus, ugh. It pained you to admit it, but the other part of you wanted clear waters with your relationship with Marcus. What exactly were the two of you? Friends with benefits? Cuddle buddies? Were you on the verge of potential ground for labels like, boyfriend and girlfriend?

Whatever it was, you found yourself going from confused about the ordeal to wanting solid ground about where Marcus and yourself stood together. In short, you could say you were crushing on Marcus. He wasn’t a knight in shining armour, honestly he was far from it. But he was just right to you; attentive just enough, cute but in an unexceptional way that made him appear handsome, in some sort. Tall enough and kind enough, with original quirks that made him his own person, an incredible reminder that he was far from perfect, but... he was perfect to you.

And so you stood with a dreamy daze in your eyes and a goofy grin slapped on your face while sighing to yourself quietly. "Hey Y/N, I was wondering if you could help me move these toilet rolls to aisle 5?" Sandra bursts your thoughts as she hauls behind her a stack of white rolls. "Oh, hey Sandra. Sure thing." You take the top row off and follow Sandra to the fifth aisle. It's a mundane journey, you're not particularly close with Sandra, but you're far less dismissive of the woman than a majority of the Cloud9 employees.

"And so, my mom's friend's cousin, that I bumped into at the gas station-" Her ever increasing tangent is interrupted by Aimee, who seemed tense as all Hell while bickering with Jonah, who marches towards you with authority. "Hey Y/N, I need you to run some numbers on a late shipment in the warehouse."

At the mere mention of the word warehouse, Marcus is prompt to return himself to your field of vision, appearing behind Aimee, almost towering over her.

"Warehouse?" You furrow your brows. "Shouldn't that be reserved for someone like Marcus?" You gesture and Aimee whips her head behind. Her eyes lock onto her checklist. "Ah, yes, both you and Marcus, please run some numbers on the late shipment, thank you." She hands you a list from the bottom before she marches off. Your thoughts on her current attitude are cut short when Marcus makes himself visible with a wide grin as he cheekily wiggles his eyebrows. "Come on, warehouse buddy.”

"Warehouse buddies?" You question, walking alongside him to the double doors. "I just- I just thought it had a nice ring to it." He scratches the back of his neck, sputtering his words simultaneously. You grin at him. "We could definitely brainstorm on that." You tease, giggling with him, semi serious about the idea.

---timeskip---

"You know, when we started taking notes on the first few boxes, I didn't actually think we were going to do the whole lot of them." Marcus complains, setting the last load of boxes as you run your pen across the page, marking it off.

"Oh, and I suppose you thought we were here for other things?" You tease, pulling on your shirt collar to allow air to cool you down. It sure had been tiring watching Marcus move heavy boxes from A to B.

"Well, you know?" He shrugs, checking the coast is clear as he slyly slinks his way towards you, hands coming to your hips before pulling you towards him. "The usual things we do here." He whispers, coming close to your lips as he ducks his head down to meet yours. "And what kind of other things did you have in mind Marcus?" He only responds by connecting his lips to yours, the motion momentarily taking you by surprise before you reply all the same.

The two of you stumble backwards before you bump into a collection of boxes. Marcus takes initiative, hoisting you up and placing you on top. With your hands slipping around his neck, your fingers begin threading through his hair. Marcus’ hands trail along your body, fidgeting with the hem of your work shirt before bunching it upwards and slipping his hands beneath, fingertips spreading along your skin. You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer. Soon enough, a familiar feeling arises, goosebumps trailing your skin as Marcus works on starting a fire in you, lips latching to your neck. You sigh at the contact, feeling yourself give into the feeling. And you think you will carry on with this bliss.

But your mind is intrusive and an outright buzzkill, poking at your insecurity about the situation. Try as you might, your mind wins and you push Marcus away.

"I'm sorry, I can't do this right now." You frown, releasing a frustrated sigh to yourself while casting your gaze to the floor before sliding off your makeshift seat. "What's the matter? Did I- Did I do something wrong?" His face filled with concern. You move past him with your hands tangled in one another. "I've just got a lot on my mind, Marcus. I'm sorry." You pick up the checklist, hiding behind the corkboard to wipe a stray tear. You think you’re hidden, but Marcus is a lot more attentive than most give him credit for. “Hey, if- if you just wanna talk or, like, need someone there or something-” You cut him short, snapping impatiently.

“What are you doing, Marcus?” He stutters. “What- what am I doing?” “Yes, what are you doing? Because… I just wanna know where we stand with each other? Where I stand with you?” You curse yourself, mentally annoyed with your emotions bursting to the surface so quickly. Why couldn’t you just enjoy the moment?

“Wait, I’m confused. What do you mean, “where do you stand?” You sigh, arms crossing in front of your chest as your brows furrow. “I just- we fool around in the warehouse, hook up even. And then, you want to talk about feelings! How am I supposed to tell you about my feelings, when my feelings are about you, Marcus?!” His signature dumbfounded expression doesn’t arrive when you expect it to. Instead, he’s much more of the same; concerned and empathetic.

“Y/N, are you saying you have feelings for me? Like, you like me?” “Yes, Marcus.” You wince, feeling desperately vulnerable having to admit it aloud. Everything’s falling into shambles just because of your feelings. “Yes, Marcus, I like you. And, I- I tried to ignore my feelings and to just go with the flow of things, but… I... I just loved being around you, and I thought you were the cutest and-” You suddenly halt your rambling, did you really say that out loud?! “I’m sorry.” You hiccup, sheltering your face, now conscious of your streaming tears. You hold yourself before Marcus steps forward, clearing his throat with his hands in his pockets.

“You know, I always thought you were the cutest in the store.” He chuckles nervously. “And I’ve always liked you, Y/N. I seriously wouldn’t have something like this going on with you if I didn’t.”

He’s closer than before when you look at him, his hands shaking as he fists them outside of his pockets. “Really?” You sniffle. “Really, really.” He pushes a stray lock behind your ear. “You know, if I’m really honest, I kind of thought you and me, like, going out or something, but I don’t know, I just thought you wouldn’t be into that kind of thing.”

A beat passes. You’ve suddenly become very conscious of the heat in your face. Embarrassed you may be, knowing what Marcus feels offers a lot more clarity than you first thought. You take a deep breath. “Well then, what does that make us, Marcus?” He shrugs sheepishly. “I’ve always thought we could be boyfriend and girlfriend, ya know?” And finally, a small grin breaks across your mouth, nodding before you come to take a step closer, taking his face in your hands before bringing his lips to meet yours. As soon as he reciprocates, you pull away too soon. “Yeah, okay. I’d like that.” You try to play it cool but ultimately fail, a big and bright smile bursting across your features. Now it’s his turn to hold your face, his calloused thumbs brushing and soothing your tear streaked face as he smiles his signature goofy grin. “Wow, this is.. so cool! Yes! I am so happy right now!” He plants his lips on yours once again.

#marcus white #marcus white x reader #superstore #superstore x reader #fluff #reader insert

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frqncjs · 1 year

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posted second chapter of my Marcus fic :))

#marcus white #Marcus white x Reader #superstore #superstore x reader

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nolita-fairytale · 1 year

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make my heart surrender | carmy berzatto x fem!reader | chapter four: friday

pairing: carmen berzatto x fem!reader

warnings: lots of swearing, angst, use of she/her pronouns, friends to lovers, smutty smut-smut, this is an 18+ chapter so minors dni, no use of y/n, second person pov

word count: 6.7k

summary: buckle up people, because this is a long one! tonight is the night: the night you and marcus' dessert menu goes live, the night you meet natalie berzatto, and the night that truths are revealed.

a/n: is it hot in here or is it just me? who's ready for some smut? this will be the last chapter i post till sunday/monday, so we can all sit with this. hear me out: it's not that i think carmy is really good at sex. but there's so much tension between these two, i think reader is good at sex, and there's something to be said for being so turned on by the other person that it just hits different.

and here is that song -- the jazz standard turned acoustic cover.

read: part three | masterlist

Friday

“Just remember that we don’t have to reinvent the wheel here. You just have to deliver a really damn good dessert time after time,” you instruct, setting Marcus up, pre-dinner shift.

“I think we should focus on the burnt basque cheesecake in lieu of the classic. You already have a heavier lift on the bake for the chocolate cake. That way, whatever happens with the mixer, or the ovens… this version of cheesecake is pretty forgiving. And you don’t have to fuck around with a water bath just yet.”

“The tiramisu is perfect because it’s a no-bake option, and you can mix it up with different kinds of flavors – call it a special.”

“Like what we’re doing Sunday?” Marcus suggests, in reference to the strawberry, lemon, and mascarpone version you be doing at the end of the week.

“Exactly,” you reply.

“Hell yeah.”

“It all fits into the menu so nicely too: elevated classics.”

“A play on tradition.”

“Exactly."

“Ah, I see you, chef,” Marcus nods along, excited about tonight’s R&D night.

The game plan is to serve smaller portions of each dessert for the price of one, then get feedback by the end of the weekend.

“Hey, family’s up in a minute. You guys ready to roll tonight?” Carmy asks, stopping by you and Marcus’ little pastry corner.

“Yes, chef,” you both answer, in staggered timing.

“She got me workin’ on a strawberry compote. Here, try it, chef,” Marcus encourages, grabbing a clean spoon and scooping out a spoonful from the deli container it’s been stored in. Carmy takes it, putting the spoon in his mouth and he tries the compote.

“That’s gonna be really good with the tang and slightly bitter outside of the burnt cheesecake. Good work, chef,” he congratulates, inspiring a grin across Marcus face.

“I’m learning so much from you. Seriously. Thank you, chef,” he says, turning to you.

“Hey, you’re the one that made the compote,” you reply, redirecting the praise back to him. “Just sayin’.”

“Family’s up!” Sydney calls out to the whole kitchen.

You lock eyes with Carmy, and he nods towards the front of house as if to say, ‘follow me.’ You and Marcus file in through the limited space that leads from the kitchen to the front counter, then finally, into the dining area of the restaurant. Carmy had told you all about the hellish remodel of this place – that the two tops, booths, and bar remodel had taken for-fuckin-ever. That it looked like nothing more than a diner with a few arcade games before the reopen.

“Hey, thanks for jumping in so that Angel could cover me the other night,” Ebrahim says to you, as you find a seat next to Carmy, and across from Marcus.

“Oh, it’s no problem. You feelin’ better?” you ask back.

“Very much so. A little rest and a little maraq digaag and I’m good as new,” he answers.

“What’s good, Jeff? Surprised you’ve stuck around this long. Glad we haven’t scared you away yet,” Tina greets.

Carmy’s shocked, considering Tina rarely warms up to anyone.

You chuckle in response.

“It takes a lot more to scare me away, chef,” you reply, confident that you can keep up with everyone’s witty banter. Even though you’ve been welcomed in over the last few days, you know that they were a family before you came.

And will still be one after you.

Right. Because this is temporary. You’re only here for a week, you remind yourself.

“Yeah, thought she’d be long gone after workin’ the line the other night,” Richie chimes in. “Especially considering she’s way out of your league, cousin.”

“Yeah, yeah, fuck you,” Carmy shoots back, almost instantly.

“I’m just glad you’re here now. Man, it’s been three days and you’ve leveled my shit up already,” Marcus compliments.

“Besides, it’s nice to have some solidarity amongst the little boys club we work in every damn day,” Sydney points out, eliciting a scoff from Richie.

The two of you share a look, like a psychic high five or some shit. It begins to dawn on you that you could get used to this: this kitchen, these people….

“What? You got something against women supporting women, Richie?”

“Oh, so what? You’re the voice of feminism now, Syd?” Richie spits back. “Holy shit! Did you guys know that we were here in the presence of the new voice of-.”

You watch as Tina and Gary slump in their chairs, as if to say, ‘here they go again.’

“Don’t be such a prick, Richie. Oh wait.” Sydney challenges.

“You know what-?” Richie starts up, before being swiftly interrupted.

“Damn, Syd. This is fantastic,” you interject, your voice louder than normal, in reference to her family meal. “These tostadas are fuckin’ perfect and I’m gonna need the recipe.”

Richie continues to go on about god knows what, distracting himself, as Sydney mouths a, ‘thank you’ across the table towards you. You nod towards her as if to say,

I got you.

“Hey, I’m a little behind on plating. Sorry, chef,” Marcus apologizes, and you can tell he’s stressed. He gestures towards the plates that are ready to go out to the bar.

He hesitates before asking, “Oh and uh… these ones are ready to go out. Can you-?”

“‘Course, chef,” you answer, a mini-pep talk coming his way. “But uh… before you keep going, Marcus, take a breath. I know you struggle a little with pacing – you want everything to perfect – but, it’s gonna come with practice and repetition.”

You can see that he’s flustered – a little frustrated even.

“Expediting during dinner is a whole other animal, and it’s just night one. You got this,” you reassure.

You and Carmy had such different leadership styles. While you both had come up in the same kind of kitchens, you didn’t like to yell unless you had to. You were here to teach, and you can’t remember the last time someone screaming at you had ever helped you learn something.

You’re more than happy to support him by taking these plates out. You spent the first half of dinner service plating so that he could get some face time with customers – since you’d be asking for feedback. Then you’d switch halfway through service. You also thought it might be good practice for him to lead, considering they’d need to hire more help with the new menus.

You take a look at the ticket, one dessert tasting - two people - bar top, before taking the dessert plates out to the designated seats at the bar. There’s a gorgeous blonde woman sitting next to a guy in a sweater vest, as you make to approach the bar top.

“Hi, you guys,” you greet, a cheerful smile on your face. “Sorry to keep you waiting. We’re testing out a few new desserts for our dinner menu, so I’d love to hear what you think.”

“Oh this looks great,” the woman says, looking at both perfectly plated desserts.

“Here we have a burnt basque cheesecake with a strawberry compote, The Bear’s signature chocolate layer cake, and then a classic Italian tiramisu,” you explain, walking through each piece.

“Wow,” the man marvels, almost as if he’s surprised.

You share your name with them, and let them know that, if they have any feedback, that they can ask for you. As you turn to go, the woman calls after you, stopping you.

“Wait,” she says, her eyes lighting up. “You’re Carmy’s friend.”

“Yes.”

“Pete, it’s Carmy’s friend!” she exclaims, nudging the man next to her with her elbow to try to jog his memory. “You know! The one that’s staying in our airbnb.”

“Oh!” he says, as the light bulb goes on in his brain. “Yeah, we’ve heard all about you.”

“I’m sorry,” the woman apologizes. “I’m Natalie, his sister, but you can call me Sugar. This is my husband, Pete.”

“Oh my god! Natalie! Yes, I’ve heard so much about you too,” you reply, finally registering that this was the same woman in family photos that Carmy had shown you years ago. “It’s so nice to put a face to the name. And great to meet you too, Pete. Seriously, thanks for letting me stay at the place. I mean, you really didn’t have to.”

“Likewise,” she says back. She scoffs before rolling her eyes and continuing. “Leave it to Carmy to ask us for a favor and not even introduce you to us, that soft shitty bitch!”

“Babe,” Pete starts. “Maybe we shouldn’t be so hard on Carmy, you know, in front of his-.” He gestures towards you and you’re not sure what he thinks you are to Carmy.

Sugar brushes him off with a, ‘whatever,’ before you notice that they’re both in need of clean forks.

“You guys need clean forks. I’m gonna-,” you start.

“Oh no! I uh-, let me get it,” Pete interrupts, practically jumping out of his seat.

“You sure?”

“Yeah,” he agrees, leaving the two of you alone.

You lean against the bar top towards Sugar.

“Well, he couldn’t get out of here fast enough,” you say with a laugh, stating the obvious. She laughs with a nod towards her husband.

“Yeah he’s… special,” she replies. “I think he uh, I think he just wanted to give us some time to talk.”

You’re not sure what to say next, because you’re not sure what you and Carmy’s sister, one you’ve never met before, would have to talk about.

“So how’s the place? Do you have everything you need or-?” Sugar begins, in reference to the airbnb.

“Oh! Yeah, no it’s great. I’ve got everything I need. Again, thank you. You really didn’t have to do that.”

“No, we wanted to!”

“Thanks…” you trail off, suddenly feeling a little uncomfortable – nervous, maybe? Yep, definitely nervous, you realize, as you begin to ramble. “It’s a really great apartment. Beautifully styled.”

What the fuck are you even talking about, you think to yourself.

“Oh, I did that! Styled it, I mean,” Sugar’s quick to respond.

“Oh, wow!” you say. Were all the Berzattos creative? “Yeah, I just-, I really appreciate it. Made getting out here a little easier.”

“No, yeah, it’s-, it’s no problem,” Sugar continues. “Really… anything for a friend of Carmy’s.”

You’re not sure why it’s so awkward, and it feels like you’re somehow both dancing around something you’re not even sure you should be dancing around.

“I hope you don’t think I’m a total bitch for saying this but,” Sugar starts, cautiously. While she doesn’t want to make her brother look like a total loser in front of you, she’s also unsure of how else to say what she says next.

“Bear's never really had any friends… not a lot of them, at least. So I-. Thank you. I mean. For being his friend, I guess… is what I’m trying to say.”

Bear.

You figure it's a family nickname. You wonder why you’ve never heard it before, and yet, it’s no surprise that he kept it from you. He’d been so evasive about his family when you’d first met. For a bit, it just felt like a topic that was off limits.

You take a beat, processing what she’s just said. In some ways, you always knew that Carmy was a bit of a loner, but you could feel the weight of what she’s saying – how much it meant to her.

“I know he’s not always easy to love but. I don’t know. He acts like he doesn’t need people, and I know he does. I mean, people outside of this fucked up shit hole anyways,” she continues, gesturing to her surroundings.

You agree with a small laugh, “Yeah, he can be a real dick sometimes. That’s for sure.”

“Seriously. Thank you,” she says, genuinely.

“Of course,” you reply, making sure she knows that her words mean a lot to you. You take a more playful tone as you continue. “To be fair, we did meet in another fucked up spot. Not so much a shit hole though.”

“Yeah, and there’s that,” she sighs, lightheartedly.

“I’m just glad he has someone. He needs someone. Even when he doesn’t want to.”

The rest of dinner service is a blur, as your mind continues to incubate on what Sugar had said to you. You let your interaction with her sit there, but try your best to focus on supporting the rest of service.

You all work together to wrap up the evening – a chaotic dinner service with a lot of lessons learned. You and Carmy are the last to leave as you notice he’s wrapping up a few things in his office. With your jacket on, backpack slung over one shoulder, you stop by to say goodnight before heading out.

He’s sitting in the chair, furiously scribbling a few notes down on a few pages of graphing paper. Your eyes flicker over all of the silly doodles on the whiteboard behind him.

“Hey,” you say, causing him to look up from his notebook.

“Good service tonight,” he says back.

“Yeah,” you nod in agreement. “Desserts were a hit.”

“I heard,” he replies.

You wait for him to say more, only he doesn’t.

“So, I’m gonna get out of here. Marcus is gonna fly solo tomorrow morning, so I won’t be in till the dinner shift,” you start, shooting him a polite smile.

You take a few steps away from the office before he calls out to you.

“Hey!”

You stop, taking a few steps backwards so that you’re standing in the office doorway once again.

“You hungry?” he asks, tentatively.

There’s a look in his eyes that you can’t quite identify: a little nervousness, and something else you haven’t had a chance to name yet. It’s like he’s not ready to part ways with you yet. You smile back at him, hoping to quell whatever nerves he has about the question he just asked you.

“Always, Carm.”

You’re tired and your feet ache from a particularly busy service, but you’re not ready to part ways with him either.

“Watcha thinkin?” you ask curiously, sliding your other arm through the loose strap of your backpack.

“Can I cook you something?” he proposes, hopefully.

You laugh.

“Is that even a real question?”

You wait for him as he wraps up his notes and gather his things. Carmy slips on his jacket and ballcap, ready to head home with you. On the way, he lights up a cigarette, offering one to you, but you tell him that you’re trying to quit – or at least trying to cut back. It’s not a long walk back to his place, and you anticipate it being something along the same lines as what he had in New York: facebook marketplace couch, minimal food in the fridge, a TV and a bed.

Nothing else – just a place to sleep, before he spends most of his day at the restaurant.

When you arrive, you’re not surprised to see that your assumptions were correct. Carmy flips on a few lights as you follow behind him. You drop your book bag onto his couch, slipping your shoes off and removing your jacket, as Carmy bee lines for the kitchen. You hear the faucet turn on as you tentatively explore his small apartment, before meeting him in the small kitchen area.

He takes his time, washing his hands, before drying them on a dish towel and throwing it over his shoulder.

“So what are we makin’, chef?” you inquire.

“We aren’t making anything. You’re gonna sit right over here,” he begins, gesturing towards the area across from his gas stovetop. “Oh shit. Hold on. Let me grab you a-.”

“I’m good here, chef,” you interrupt, making a sound as you hop onto the kitchen counter. You immediately reach for the bag of chips he’s thrown onto it. It’s not even closed properly with a clip or anything so expect them to be stale as you pop one of the chips into your mouth.

“Sour cream and onion? Change up from your regular doritos, huh?”

A small smile spreads across his face as he moves around his kitchen, locating a quarter sheet pan. He opens his practically desolate fridge, pulling out a fresh brick of pecorino romano, guanciale, and a few eggs he throws right into the pint-sized deli container that lays on the sheet pan. The rest follow: an unopened pound of dried spaghetti and black pepper, before he gently places the sheet pan on the counter, beginning to preheat two pans on the stovetop.

“Are you-?”

“Uh huh.”

You smile to yourself. He’s making one of your favorites: carbonara.

The first time he’d made it for you, you had just started spending some of your days off together – had just agreed to be a part of each others' quarantine pods. You knew he had Italian-American heritage but it was blatantly obvious when you took your first bite.

“Holy fuck,” you had practically moaned at your first bite. “This-, please don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m pretty sure your talents are being wasted on fine dining, my friend. This is… this is fucking unreal, dude.”

You had tried to convince him that this is the food you both should be cooking, but he vehemently denied the idea, insisting the fine dining was the highest on the food chain and the only way he could make a name for himself.

He’d been drinking the kool-aid. You both had.

You sit quietly, as Carmy works. You watch as he cuts perfect lardons, then renders the fat from the cured pork bits. The smell of the guanciale begins to fill the apartment, and Carmy opens a window, just to let the smoke dissipate.

“You can uh, put some music on if you want,” Carmy says, motioning towards the small bluetooth speaker he has on the coffee table. You agree to, hopping off of the kitchen counter and making your way towards his living area to set up the speaker.

You flip through your phone, looking for a good playlist to put on, settling on one of your dinner party playlists. The speaker booms with the sounds of an old jazz standard, redone as an acoustic cover, and you turn the volume up a little as the water for the spaghetti comes to a boil.

You spend time looking through Carmy’s bookshelf. It’s filled with thick-spined cookbooks from James Beard winning best restaurants and chefs. You drag your fingertips over the spine of a few classics, but settle on a fairly new book, written by someone at the New York Times.

“Do you have any other books besides cookbooks?” you call out to him.

He lets out a dry laugh and you take it as a no.

You make your way back to your spot on the counter, sliding the open chip bag over, before hopping back up to your seat. You flip through the cookbook as Carmy stays busy with the pasta.

It’s quiet moments like these that you’ve missed so much. Some days the two of you could talk for hours about sous vide vs reverse searing, and the right way to make a fucking bearnaisse sauce. Other days, Carmy wasn’t much for conversation, and you loved those ones equally. Sometimes, you just wanted company, so he’d come over and work on a recipe and you’d read while he worked in your kitchen.

You could just be together, and it was nice to feel that again.

No awkward tension of things left unsaid.

But there was a different kind of tension that seemed to linger between the two of you and you wondered if it had always been there. Had you just never noticed? Between the little comments from Richie about being out of his league, and Pete’s open-ended ‘not in front of his’ you wondered if everyone knew something you didn’t.

“Which one’d you go with?” he asks, continuing his graceful dance around the kitchen.

“Korean American. Eric Kim. I hadn’t had a chance to pick up a copy for myself yet, actually,” you answer, flipping through the first few pages.

Your met with quiet as you continue your story.

“You know we’re kind of friends. We went out for drinks a few times. Before I quit my job. Went dancing in the east village and stayed out till two in the morning bar hopping and gossiping about our mutual celebrity crush, Timothee Chalamet,” you add, your attention still fixed on the vibrant, colorful food photographs.

“Timothee Chalamet, huh?” Carmy asks, amused.

Your attention isn’t on Carmy, or what he’s doing, save for the sounds of him moving around the kitchen. That is, until you look up to find him unceremoniously close to you, peering over onto the page you seem so fascinated with.

“Jesus Christ, Car!” you gasp, surprised by his close proximity. Your heart was beating faster as he took a step back. “You scared the shit out of me!”

“Sorry,” he mumbles, his head hanging as he takes a few steps back. “Didn’t mean to.”

“No, it’s okay!” you assure. But it’s too late, so you change the subject, deciding to finish your story. “Anyways uh… I had to hang out with someone after you left New York. Make some new friends.”

“We both know you’ve never struggled with that,” Carmy points out, eliciting a playful eye roll from you.

He returns with the most aesthetically pleasing twirl of spaghetti carbonara. It’s so perfect you almost can’t fathom eating it. He hands it to you, then returns to his kitchen counter, plating a second bowl for himself.

After finishing the second twirl, he carelessly tosses his carving fork into the sink, opening another drawer to grab two forks for eating.

“Come on. You don’t want it to get cold,” he encourages, handing you one of the forks.

He waits patiently for you to try it first, so you dig your fork in, creating a spaghetti twirl that hugs the fork, before raising it up to your lips. You open your mouth, taking a bite, before closing your eyes in absolute bliss.

“I can’t fucking stand you.”

He smiles, and it’s the biggest smile you’ve seen on his face this whole week.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I mean. Fuck you. Like… absolutely fuck you.”

He laughs, finally picking up his own fork and digging into the second bowl he’s plate for himself.

Holy fuck, is it out of this world.

“Like, do you think they’re such a thing as a talent aggression? Like a cute aggression, only I want to squeeze your head off because you’re so damn talented-kind of aggression?” you pitch your idea to him, playfully.

He laughs, a blush spreading across his cheeks, “Uh… no. I don’t think so.”

Carmy rests his back against the counter, as you eat together, side by side. You eat quietly, exchange looks and quiet giggles as the two of you finish your pasta, slurping up the cheesy, egg-yolk coated noodles. When you finish your bowl, you put it down on the counter next to you, throwing your head back with a sigh.

“Thank you,” you say, fully satisfied as you feel the dopamine rush of eating carbs.

“That good, huh?” he asks, a cocky smirk on his face.

“So good,” you exhale happily, as you rest your head on his shoulder. “And you know it, you asshole.”

He chuckles, turning his head towards you just as you lift your head off of his shoulder, your faces mere inches away from each other. You watch as his face turns a few shades darker, the blush across his cheeks running through his whole face.

Are you two fucking idiots to pretend that you were just friends?

Yeah. Yes, you are.

“Sorry, I’m, I didn’t mean to um,” he stutters, beginning to pull away from you.

“Wait,” you call out, reaching out to stop him. You grab his arm.

And there it is again… the tension. That thing that, even when you had talked it out, has remained between you two. He stops moving, his eyes fixated on your hand – the one that’s reached for him. The one that feels hot against his skin.

“Carm, I-. Um, I’ve really missed…” you stammer through, trying not to sound as breathless as you feel.

I’ve really missed you.

“... your carbonara.” He looks up at you with those beautifully sad, cerulean blue eyes, and if you weren’t breathless before, you certainly are now.

“You should make this more often,” is all you manage to get out, and you know you sound helpless.

He doesn’t know what to say back. That he can hear the ache in your voice – a yearning for him that he never imagined anyone could ever have for him. That it’d be world war three, trying to get a carbonara on the dinner menu. That screaming would ensue over a goddamn emulsion. That there’d be no way to pull this off authentically, and that he’d have to use heavy cream, and no fucking way would he compromise on that.

On your favorite fucking dish.

That he only has these ingredients on hand because he went out and bought them in preparation for your visit.

That he only got them for you.

Because he maybe only wants to make carbonara for you, and only you, for forever and ever.

That he’s missed you too, and that wanting you is one of the scariest things he’s ever felt.

His eyes flicker from your hand, the one still holding onto him, and then back to your face. He’s not sure what possesses him to do it, but he can hear his brother’s voice in his head, let it rip, pushing him to lean in – even closer towards you. You wrap your fingers around his arm, encouraging him closer to you – if it’s even possible. Your foreheads meet and it’s as if all the oxygen has been sucked out of the room. It’s like your vision narrows and the dimly lit apartment has faded away behind you.

It’s just you and him.

You feel dizzy – in the most delicious way possible.

You’re not sure who moves in first, but the tip of his nose is ever so gently bumping against yours. You brush the side of your nose against his, neither of you daring to take a breath.

“Carm?”

He doesn’t answer, so you gently begin to leave a kiss against the corner of his mouth.

“This okay?”

Then the side of his top lip.

“Mhm,” he nods, eager to continue where this is going.

Then you pull back, pulling him towards you so that, as you remain perched on top of his kitchen countertop, he fits perfectly between your knees. You lean in to kiss him, and this time, it’s not as hesitant… not as cautious as you’ve both been.

No, these kisses are different, each one opening up the door to more and more – more want, more need, more lust – and as it blooms, as it blossoms, you feel Carmy’s hand move gingerly to cradle your face as you fall down the rabbit hole. Your fingers tangle into his blonde curls allowing your sheer want for him to consume you. It’s lips, and tangled tongues, and tentative, soft moans as you continue to pull each other closer and closer.

And you slowly begin to understand: the lingering tension, the avoidance of labeling you from his brother-in-law, why he’s been terrified to say a damn thing to you this entire week.

As much as you tried, and as much as he’s tried, neither of you had put that night behind you.

Sure, it was shitty timing, and sure he wasn’t in the right headspace then. But now?

Now, could be different, if you’d let it.

Carmy pulls away from you, reluctantly, his face hot before asking, “You uh, you wanna take this somewhere else?”

His tone is hopeful, as if he’s the teenage dirtbag asking the prom queen out – like if you heard him, and you laughed in his face, he simply wouldn’t survive it.

But your response is quite the opposite, and he feels silly for worrying, as you manage a breathy ‘yes’ going back in for one more kiss. He gives you some space to hop off the counter and you grab his hand, leading him towards his bedroom. It’s not a huge place, so you put two and two together about where that is. Carmy leaves the lights off in his bedroom, the only glimmer of light either of you can see comes from the living room lamps, and the kitchen overhead.

With his hand in yours, you pull him towards you again, and he’s more than happy to let you lead. You begin to kiss him, taking note of how perfectly his top lip feels nestled in between yours. He follows you down to his bed, hesitant to put his full body weight on top of you. You giggle into the kiss, pulling him down to you.

“I’m not a porcelain doll, Carm,” you tease, gently.

You feel his lips twist into a smile against yours, as he begins to leave sloppier, wetter kisses down your neck. You allow him to explore as his hesitation lessens, his hands beginning to bunch up the hemline of your shirt. Higher and higher. And before you know it, you’re taking it off, impatiently throwing it somewhere you’ll barely remember in the light of day. You pull Carmy back down for another kiss, this time with a little more intensity, as he covers his body with yours, his hands and mouth exploring every inch of newly revealed skin that he possibly can.

You’re not sure when his shirt joined yours on the floor but before it registers, you’re running your fingers across the muscles of his back, exploring each peak and valley. You hiss in pure pleasure as he pulls down one of the cups of your bra, his tongue running across one of your nipples. You can feel him smile against your skin, a well-won reaction from the pleasure he’s giving you. His other hand reaches up to give equal attention to your other breast, and moments later, you’re both impatiently pulling your bra off.

“Wanna try something,” Carmy murmurs, his eyes meeting yours.

You can feel the wet heat pooling between your legs as you breathe out, “Okay.”

The anticipation is building in your body and you feel like your head might explode. Carmy busies his mouth once again, leaving kisses down your torso as his hands begin to fiddle with the button on your jeans. You giggle, more than willing to help him out as he gets them undone, lifting your hips so that he can slide them off.

He’s hesitant, and you’re trying your damnedest to be patient as he takes his sweet time to marvel at your almost-naked body.

“So fucking perfect,” Carmy whispers, in between leaving wet, open mouthed kisses across your hip bones. You can hardly breathe, panting out loud as he continues his exploration. You make space for him between your legs as he slips his hands into your panties, dragging a finger up and down your dripping sex.

He checks in with you, gauging your reaction, and you nod as he continues what he’s doing.

“This all for me?” he asks. He means for it to sound confident, but as the words leave him, he sounds more surprised than anything.

Before you can answer, he’s pushing your legs wider, his tongue gently running across your clit, causing you to cry out to the gods. He’s tentative at first, but it doesn’t take long for him to gather up the confidence to keep going, with the noises you’re making. At first it’s all tongue, licking, circling and flattening up against you, but you’re losing your mind as he adds his fingers back into the mix. His fingers are buried deep inside of you while his lips and tongue are bringing you far past your edge.

It’s as if the only words you can remember are his name, and ‘fuck.’

You feel his lips curl into a smile against you as he murmurs, “Just wanna make you feel good.”

You can feel it – your climax – building up, and Carmy groans, rutting his hips into the bed as he can no longer ignore how hard he is.

“Carmy, yes. Don’t stop, please. I’m-,” you beg, your voice shaking.

And he has no intention of stopping till he gets what he wants – till he makes you cum. He works you through your orgasm, groaning against you as you cum on his tongue and around his fingers. You swear for a moment that you can’t hear a single thing as stars fill your vision. As you come to, it starts with only the sounds of the heavy pants that escape your mouth. Carmy sits up, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand.

“Holy fuck,” you say, breathless.

Carmy lays over you once again, kissing you, and you can taste yourself on his lips.

Your hands fumble with the button on his jeans and you order, no patience left in a single cell of your body, “Off. These need to come off.”

He chuckles, hurrying through the removal of his jeans. You’re so eager to feel the weight of his body on top of yours again that you pull him back down to you before he’s even able to properly take them off.

He’s kissing you again as you reach down, grabbing his hard length through his underwear. He’s thicker than you remember. You slip your hand into the waistband of his briefs, causing him to grunt. He hisses your name as you wrap your soft hand around his dick, bucking his hips into your hand.

“Do you have a condom?” you ask, desperately. “I wanna feel you, Carm.”

“Mhm.”

He doesn’t keep condoms around. It’s not like this happens very often for him. But Richie had thrown a pack of condoms at his head the minute he found out that the friend that was coming to visit was a girl. Richie had teased him with some stupid quip like ‘don’t forget to wrap it up, cousin. No one wants a mini-eleven madison park dickhead running around here.’

He hadn’t expected this to happen. But it’s not like he’d thrown the condoms away either – tucking them into the single drawer of his nightstand.

You wait as he reaches over and pulls out a condom from his nightstand. You want to ask him about why he has them, but as long as you get to feel him, you’re not sure you care.

You’ve been here before with him, but this is different. He sits up on his knees and you follow him, pulling his briefs down properly and giving him time to roll on the condom. He follows you back down onto the bed as you wrap a leg around his waist so that he can fit perfectly between yours.

He waits a beat, and then you feel his thick tip pushing against you, causing your breath to catch in your throat. He rubs the head up and down your slick core, before slowly beginning to push into you.

You both gasp at the feel of each other.

“Fuck. You’re so fuckin’ tight,” he moans, dropping his head into the crevice of your neck. He hopes you can’t tell how utterly helpless he feels.

You hiss at the way he’s stretching you open, the pads of your fingertips digging into his arms. You’re holding onto his arms for dear life as he fills you all the way to the hilt. You let out another moan as you as he stays there for a moment.

“This okay?”

You nod, pulling him down to kiss you again. You start moving your hips against his as Carmy gives you shallow thrusts.

“Hold on,” he breathes out, holding your hips down for a moment. “Just-, just give me a second.”

And you do, allowing him to collect himself, before he’s giving you shallow, gentle thrusts.

But you’re in desperate need for more.

“Carmy?”

“Yeah?”

“Fucking move.”

Finally, finally, he pulls almost all the way out, before driving himself back into you, earning a cry from you as the pleasure is just too much.

“Oh fuck!”

You want more. You want everything and all of him and so much more. And he gives it to you, continuing to check in that what he’s doing is okay. Before you know it, you’re begging him to go faster, harder, convincing him that you’re not fucking breakable and that you want more, grasping at the sheets and his biceps, and his curls – anything you can hang on to as he’s bringing you over your edge again for the second time tonight.

You’re crying out his name as you cum, and Carmy thinks it may be the sweetest, best thing he’s ever heard in his life. He fucks you through your climax, beginning to slow down the pace of this thrusts. He pauses, kisses you long and hard, passionately pausing just to be in this moment with you.

“Carm?” you manage to get out. You wonder if he can hear how much you want him just by the sound of your voice.

“Hm?”

“I wanna ride you,” you say, and you can feel that your words have gone straight to his dick as he twitches inside of you.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

The two of you clumsily change positions – him on his back staring up at you in awe, like how the hell does that perfect, beautiful, creature want to be here with me now? You reach down, guiding him back inside of you and you’re both gasping at the contact. You begin grinding your hips against him, watching his eyes roll back as you make your movement a little bigger.

“Jesus Christ,” he sighs out, the pleasure of it all taking over his brain.

You know he won’t last much longer as you begin to ride him, rocking your hips back and forth. Carmy hands are on your hips, then running up and down your torso, grabbing your tits, and then they’re pulling you down to him for another passionate makeout as you continue your movements. You can feel his thrusts becoming more erratic as he starts thrusting up into you. You keep riding him, reaching for his hands and placing them along your hips.

“Show me how you want it,” you whisper in between kisses.

“I think this is nice,” he manages to say.

“Show me how you want it, Carmen,” you demand, emphasizing your need for him with use of his full name. “Let me make you cum.”

You squeeze his hands against your ass, egging him on, and he’s not sure what he’s done to deserve this. He holds onto your hips, before thrusting up into you, setting a bruising pace as your moans become louder and louder. You scream out his name, as he brings you closer and closer to your high, chasing his with him.

He grunts, his thrusts becoming sloppier, messier, more desperate and you let him use your body in the most delicious ways.

“Are you gonna cum?”

Instead of answering, he’s driving into you like a fucking mad man, and you’re riding him through his high till you both collapse.

Carmy lets out a strangled moan as he cums, so you begin to slow your movements. You’re breathless, hunched over him, your foreheads touching as you exchange a laugh.

It's a kind of 'I can't believe we just did that' kind of laugh.

“Holy shit,” he says, shaking his head.

“Yeah,” you agree, a stupid, blissed out smile on both of your faces.

“That was-.”

“Yeah.”

You get off of him, allowing him to get up and dispose of the condom. He’s not gone long before he returns to you, wrapping the both of you up in his sheets and into his arms. It feels unlike anything you’ve ever had.

It feels… magnificent.

“Stay with me tonight?” he asks, leaving a few soft kisses along your shoulder.

“After that?” you giggle, as his lips against your neck begin to tickle. “You’re not getting rid of me, Berzatto. Not a fucking chance.”

read: part five

taglist: @lazypeachsoul @bookwormvoyageuse @allthefandomstogether @gaysludge @sobshoney

#carmy berzatto smut #carmen berzatto x you #carmy berzatto #carmy x oc #the bear hulu #the bear fx #jeremy allen white #carmen 'carmy' berzatto #the bear marcus #sydney adamu #the bear tina #richie jerimovich #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto smut

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ironmanfridgemagnet · 1 year

Text

y/n, tending to Marcus’s infected leg : How would you rate your pain?

Marcus : Zero stars would NOT recommend

#I love him he’s so himbo #superstore x reader #sitting on the shelf marcus white x reader #superstore imagine #cloud 9 #marcus white x reader #marcus white #marcus white imagine #marcus superstore #superstore #superstore marcus x reader #incorrect quotes superstore #superstore incorrect quotes #incorrect quotes

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bethsvrse · 1 month

Note

Any fun requests coming up? <3

I have a couple of requests I’m working on. There are a few marauders ones and a superstore that I’m focusing on but I have been very busy at the moment so I haven’t been able to write as much as I want. Hopefully they will come out sometime next month though!! 🫶

#bethsvrse #fanfic #remus lupin x reader #sirius black x reader #james potter x reader #dina fox x reader #marcus white x reader #marauders era x reader #superstore x reader

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imaginesbymk · 1 year

Text

IMAGINE — THE CLOUD 9 EMPLOYEES FINDING OUT YOU AND MARCUS ARE SECRETLY DATING AFTER DINA PLAYS SECURITY FOOTAGE.

REQUESTED BY ANONYMOUS

“THIS IS the tenth one I saw digging through a half-eaten bag of beetroot.” Dina was too eager to get the meeting over with and prove whatever point she was trying to make, which of course was the raccoon infestation in the store. Instead of seeing a raccoon feasting on produce, the surveillance footage showed something completely different — something shocking.

Everyone in the room shared elicited gasps and whispers when the screen showed you and Marcus in the far corner of the warehouse, where the two of you assumed the cameras couldn’t reach there. He had you pressed against the shelves of freight he made his warehouse handlers stack neatly, just for it to shake back and forth as the two of you were… working.

“Ladies, take notes! Am I right?” Justine laughs, receiving no praise or responded laughs from anyone.

Feeling the dread Amy and Jonah must have felt when it happened to them, you could only wish you disappeared at this very moment. Even as you were frozen in your seat, you could feel Marcus staring at the back of your head. You finally turned to look at him who stood at the back of the room, where he often leans against the lockers during meetings. You’ve never seen his face turn so pale.

“Marcus and y/n?!” Mateo gasps. “Oh your poor thing, you need to start loving yourself.”

“You watch way too much porn, dude,” Garrett says to Marcus so casually, taking a sip of his drink.

#superstore x reader #superstore imagines #superstore imagine #superstore gif imagine #marcus white x reader #marcus white imagine #marcus white #marcus white gif imagine #superstore #reader insert

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imaginewarehouse · 2 years

Text

Marcus White x Fem!Reader || Oneshot

Plot: On a typical evening walk of yours around the neighbourhood (Which is generally just fine, of course. You love your walks. Its normal, and perfectly safe!) you start to notice... a man. Following you. No matter how many turns you make, he continued to be just a few metres behind you, on the same side of the road as you.

As you're starting to really panic, over the sound of you heart beating hot and loud in your ears, you realise Marcus from work lives near here (He of course had written his address on the female staff bathroom wall at some point) and you go straight there.

Warnings: Stalking. Or basically, just being followed by a strange man in the evening when its getting dark. After that though its just a butt load of unadulterated Marcus fluff! ^^ Also unedited so far

Tags: @flowercrowns-goodvibes and @one-edgy-bitch

🔆 🔆 🔆

I turn round another corner, the blood in my ears having started to pump louder and hotter then necessary the moment I noticed the man- before I realised he was following me, even. Now it aches, and my heart's beating like a steam train against my rib cage, and I feel like I might throw up. Its been 10 minutes, and no matter how many unnecessary turns I make, the figure wont disappear. I feel like I'm being hunted. I don't want to go back home and lead him to where I live, but I also feel sick to my stomach being out here.

Where he can grab me.

And I feel like I'm too scared to properly fight back, if he does. You always imagine, that you can just kick or punch an attacker if it happened to you but no one ever mentions how the fear sucks all the strength out of you and makes it impossible to even clench your fists. Makes you useless.

Helpless.

I take a deep breath, careful to not show it though. How am I going to get out of this? Exhaling, my breath stutters and I panic that he saw it. He knows I know. He knows I'm scared. Am I going to get out of this?

I don't dare think about what state I might be in if I do get out of this, attacked. That's not going to happen.

What do I do, though? What do I do? What do I do?

Chewing on my bottom lip, I think hard. I could pretend to be on a phone call, or actually call someone? But then whoever's following me might panic and speed up whatever plans they have, so I just grip my phone in my hand, hanging at my side. My earplugs are long forgotten around my neck so I can hear the footsteps, but I haven't put them away.

Where's the nearest shop? 20 minutes away.

What are the chances that any of these houses will be housing someone worse then the guy behind me? Right now, that chance seems higher then what, rationally, I know it must really be.

Another deep breath forces my chest to rise and my eyes to redden this time. God, I am not handling this well. I need to be cooler. I need to calm the fuck down.

But that thought just seems to make it worse, as tears of fear start to fill my eyes.

Help.

Suddenly, as I round another corner and catch sight of the dark, empty Daycare sitting there on the other side of the road- I all of a sudden realise where I am.

I mean, I knew where I was. Where I am. I know how to get home from here and how to get to the shops, but suddenly something else clicks in my head. A sanctuary representing unlikely hope.

Marcus lives around here. Marcus from work. I remember, because he wrote his damn address on the bathroom wall inside the womens' one time and it had registered in my head because, hey, that's in my neighbourhood!

In fact- its around this next corner. If I can only make it on these terrified jelly legs, then I can gladly brave the awkwardness of barging into a colleagues home to get some help. Taking another deep breath of the fresh, crisp, cheek-burning evening air as the world gets even darker around us - me, and him, - and then letting it go slowly, I gradually pick up my pace.

When I finally get around the corner, is when my heart really stops beating for a moment.

Because I see the house. Number 12, right there on the left. 4 houses down.

But also, because a perfectly average, run-of-the-mill, one-of-the-many kind of voice calls out, muffled through his scarf, for me.

Just a quick, "Hey!", so I ignore it even as my insides feel like they're all trying to rush out every available orifice of my body and my legs threaten to buck out from underneath me. Please, please keep going. Please, legs. I'm honestly begging you here. Keep me up, now. I need you right now. Please, please, please...

"Hey!" He calls again when I don't respond and pretend I didn't hear him, and speeds up behind me. Oh god, now my body wants to sprint but I force myself to keep my pace. "Girl!"

All heat, and probably all the colour too, has drained from my face. My fingers have lost feeling. All I know, all I can think now is I'm not going to die. I'm not going to die. I'm not going to die.

And that's not a totally... comforting, thought.

Then I reach the house I was aiming for and nearly trip over turning course down the driveway to race to the door, the porch light turning the bricks orange in the dark. I knock maybe a little too hard against the wooden door. But I wouldn't really know, my hands are numb.

I glance back at the man for the first time fully and watch him walk across the path by the house, as I hear shuffling beyond the door. He keeps glancing at me as he passes and every time he does, I think he's going to rush at me like a wild beast-

But then the door opens.

And he keeps walking.

"Y/N? Uhh, wow, this is a surprise." The familiar, albeit usually annoying voice causes my muscles to immediately soften and I dare to turn my back on the path, facing Marcus. Tall, broad shouldered, and most importantly yes, occasionally weird, but nevertheless harmless, Marcus. My own shoulders relax; I'm safe, I tell myself. Or try to. But my body is still in a confused state between freeze and flight. "What brings you to my pad?" He grins broadly, easily excitable. Like a Labrador.

"Um- c-can I please come in? I- there was a man, and- " I cant even force out the words. They feel fresh, and fake, even though I can still feel the fear rushing through my veins instead of blood. Am I shaking? God, I'm shaking.

"Y-yeah, come on in." Through whatever is usually going on in his head that I have yet to delve into, even after working with him for over a year, he seems to notice how truly shaken up I am and steps to the side so I can walk in. He closes the door behind me and I wipe my face, feeling safer. "Uh, do you want something? I got, uh... well, my mom's outta town so I mostly have, like... beer. But I think we have tea, too?"

"Um... that's okay... " I don't want to embarrass myself any more by dropping the tea cup because my fingers were shaking too badly. That would be exactly what I need to top off the night to make it freaken perfect. "Thank you... "

"Living room's this way." He nods, guiding me around a corner into a room that looks just like you would imagine an old ladies livingroom to look like. Floral couch, 2 armchairs with the skirts around the bottom, carpet, and some porcelain cats here and there. Marcus, in his white t-shirt and boxers, looks odd and informal in the middle of it all, but comfortable. He turns around and gestures towards the couch for me to take it, "Sit down, uh, relax. I'm just gonna put on some pants. Be right back!"

I nod, sitting down and feeling myself relax immediately as he rushes outta the room and hear him loudly bang bang bang all the way up the stairs. The sound even makes me release a nervous, lighthearted laugh. Ohhhh, lord...

Wiping my face and then brushing my hair back, I take a deep breath and look around the room some more. There's a couple beer cans around the place, as if Marcus has had a party though I know its more likely that this is just a visual guide to to where, in this room, he's been hanging out all week. At the coffee table a couple of times, at the mantle once, and on the floor.

There's also a PlayStation hooked up to the TV here, looking totally out of place in the old lady style room. The remote is attached to the charger, on the creamy carpet in front of the entertainment centre along with a bag of chips- he must have been playing before I turned up.

When Marcus comes flying back down the stairs, eager as ever for company though he is, I feel guilty as hell for interrupting his evening. He plops down heavily on the other side of the couch, giving me plenty of space but wanting to be close by, and I turn with a remorseful sort of look on my face. "I'm so sorry for barging in- "

"Hey, I don't mind." He gives a, excited shrug. "Happy for the company! You wanna play Smash Bros?"

... The fact that this man used to be in prison, baffles me. He's like a puppy dog, and honestly? The grin on his face is kinda infectious. So, when I should have said no thank you and called a cab to get home, I instead gave a gentle smile and said, "... Sure."

"Hm, thats another win for me... " I tease carefully, setting the remote back onto my lap, turning my head to Marcus who's got his jaw on the floor and his eyes glued to the TV screen. "What, surprised?"

"How'd you get so good??!"

Giggling, I shake my head and shrug. "I like this game."

"Yeah, I see that." He insists, but there's nothing mean or upset about it- just in awe. And it makes you feel warm inside. After digging into the bag of chips at his side and collecting himself a huge handful, he offers you the bag. "Chip?"

"Oh, I love (Chip flavour). Yes please!" I dig in and get a smaller handful, but still a handful, and put them in my other open hand while Marcus just plays that dangerous game of pulling various chips out of his grip and hopes they don't all fall out on the couch like edible Jenga.

Through a mouthful, which makes me chuckle and shake my head, he gives a nod. "No problem,"

Who knew I'd like hanging out with Marcus so much?? I'm having a great time. He doesn't put pressure on me at all, and it turns out the two of us share a lot in common, surprisingly. I should have taken him up on his offer to get drinks a long time ago. So, when he asks if I'd like him to drive me home or if I wanna stay over... cuz like, the guy might still be around or whatever... I feel butterflies (The good kind) flutter around in my chest, and nod. I mean, I certainly don't feel like going out there again tonight, whether its in a car or otherwise.

"Okay! Awesome, uh- C'mon, lets getcha a pillow." Marcus exclaims, excited again, before patting my arm and getting up. Pushing off the couch, I follow him deeper into the house , up the stairs and into what must be his room... the walls are painted blue, the bed - covered in cars bed sheets, - isn't made, its a huge mess and his work coveralls are strewn over a motorcycle style desk chair. Just, basically, exactly how you might imagine Marcus' bedroom to look like- humorously so. I find it kind of cute.

While he's rifling around the place looking for a clean pillow and a blanket, I peak around some more. Until something makes me gasp. "Is that your mug shot???"

"Uh yeah, my mom's got another copy on the fridge." Marcus replies, not turning around as I pick up the framed photo and grin at it. He looks so unimpressed, or like he's trying to look unimpressed but is really shitting himself, but still... somehow good? Handsome?

How??????????????

Also, the fact that Mrs White stuck it up on the fridge, too? Priceless.

After setting the frame back down where you found it, Marcus turns around with a pillow and a blanket, handing you the pillow - which smells very strongly of some kind of body spray, the kind that guys think will get them laid, - before I realise how close we've ended. He seems to notice too, the tips of our feet mere inches from eachother, and he grins as I feel my heart pound heavily against my chest for the second time tonight, and the pillow I'm hugging. This time, though, I don't mind the feeling.

He's still handsome, I think, peaking up at him over the pillow. Maybe even more so, in person.

And my inhibitions are low, due to him also being my knight in shining armour, tonight.

That only means-

"Uhhh... So can I sleep on the couch?" That means I have to be a strong adult and force myself to make some good decisions tonight. Starting with deescalating this situation and stepping back.

"Yeah, or you could... you know... sleep in my bed? With- with me??" Marcus suggests, in a sort of odd mixture of nervous and confident. Kinda dumb. But its cute and hard to resist.

"Uhh... "

"We don't have to do anything," He's quick to add, assuring you with a smirk, before chuckling and rubbing the back of his neck. Fuck!! When guys do that its just... game over. I can actually feel all sense leaving my body- "I mean, I want to. But I just thought... this was going kinda well, and uh... honestly I like you. A lot. So I was thinking... maybe... "

"I mean... sure."

"What?" He looks shocked, and so am I but I just give a smile. I have had a bad night, and cuddling with Marcus can only make it better.

"Yeah, why not?" Stepping back to him, I peer up at him. "I kinda like you too, so... "

That caused a big grin to slip across his face. "Fuck yeah!"

10 minutes later I've changed into a clean shirt of Marcus' that has Jason Voorhees' on it - partly because I'm sure neither of us will be tempted to break the mans 'premarital sex' ban with him between us, - and slip under the covers, laying down and beginning to get comfortable before Marcus goes and just scoops me right up against him.

I relax immediately, taking a deep breath and wrapping my arms back around him, and burying my face in his t-shirt. He's changed into pyjama pants, now, along with his plain white shirt, and he's so cute I'm tempted to wrap one of my legs over him.

... So I do, hooking a leg over his hip and sighing, eyes closed and feeling him give a sigh of his own at me wrapping myself around him like a damn monkey. He even hitches my leg more securely over him so we're chest-to-chest, and his chin rests on my head. I'm so warm, and snuggly, and-

-there is no doubt in my mind that I'm going to be flustered as hell when I wake up in the morning. I mean, this is impulsive, and kinda dumb, definitely but it also feels really good. So, for tonight, I'll be impulsive, and kinda dumb.

#Superstore #Superstore x Reader #Marcus White x Reader Oneshot #Marcus White x Reader #Marcus White #Superstore Marcus

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sibsteria · 2 years

Text

Fog and Clouds

Prologue Chapter One

Jake Peralta & Marcus White x fem!Reader

Masterlist

—-

“Hey, got you a drink.” The grin of my ex-coworker brightens my view.

“Thanks! What…is this?” I swirl the alcohol around the glass.

“It’s champagne mixed with 30-year-old scotch and top shelf tequila. Captain said a two drink maximum but he did not set a price limit-” he lifted his fingers to point at his temple, “smort.”

“Well, I cannot wait, cheers-” Out flutes clink together, before we raise them to our mouths.

“Oh, god, it’s horrible!” I gag at the grim liquid sloshing around in my mouth.

“Yeah, I shouldn’t have added the olive juice.” Jakes face matches my own.

“Ewww!” I whine.

“Hey, so listen, the thing I said to you in the evidence room? About how it was a mistake? That was a lie, I don’t believe that at all.” He looks suddenly serious.

“What are you saying?”

“I know that you’re moving to St. Louis, I’m not trying to change that. And I get there’s stuff I can’t control, but this morning I told you that I didn’t mean any of it, and that was a lie. I just don’t want to hold anything back.”

“Well…I’m kind of stuck on words, right now. I don’t think it was a mistake either, Jake. But I’ve already booked my flight and packed my apartment and put it up for rent and-”

“Honestly, it’s okay, if I know you- I like to think I do- you won’t be away from New York for long.”

“So, I guess we just have to leave it up to chance.”

“Guess so.”

“Well, I’m gonna chug this in under a minute because I don’t want to waste what you gave me-“

“I’m-gonna-chug-this-in-under-a-minute-because-I-don’t-want-to-waste-what-you-gave-me title of your sex tape!”

I let a genuine grin creep up my face.

“He’s back.”

———————————————————————

I look around my apartment, empty rooms and blank walls stare back at me.

So many memories here, some terrible and horrible but there were gems that made up for it.

Most of the stuff I packed is going to charity- or being thrown away, so I only have a couple of boxes and suitcases.

I travel to my once-bedroom, one of my boxes lay on its side, spilling its contents.

I saunter over, kneeling at the box, pulling it up from its side I look at the fallen items.

Some books, a couple of magazines and-

A bar napkin, with a couple of doodles.

The one from my purse the night Jake and I…that we…

I’m not upset, it’s a fond memory, I just wish it didn’t turn out this way.

I’ll be back here, maybe we can’t start fresh.

I tuck the napkin into my bag, a keepsake.

I hear the honk of a car outside, my ride is here.

Luckily I live on the ground floor, so loading the boxes won’t be too much trouble.

“Need any help?” Terry shouts from his rolled down window.

“If you don’t mind.” I smile.

“Anything for you.”

He exits his car, picking up three boxes like they’re nothing.

I take the remaining two and follow him to the boot of his car. Only two large boxes fit in, the rest being put in the back. I run way and grab my two suitcases, putting them on the backseat as well .

“Airport?”

“Airport.”

Terry didn’t drink tonight, so he was able to drive me there, he’s such a kind soul.

The drive is calm, some ballads drone in from the local radio station, filling the car with sound.

“You really wanna do this?”

“Of course…” I try to think of a reason why.

“You don’t sound so sure.”

“Maybe I’m not, but if it doesn’t work out, I’ll be on the first plane back.”

“If it does? You better visit, I can’t control the troublesome two on my own.”

Jake and Charles.

“Absolutely, I wouldn’t be visiting just for them, you’re apart of my life too. You’re like family to me, Terry. And you know how much luck I’ve had with them, you all matter.”

He gives me a soft, joyous look.

“You’re my family too.”

We rolled into the car park.

“We’re here.” He shut off his car.

“Thanks again, for this.”

“It’s no trouble, c’mon, I’ll help you load a dolly.”

I’m so grateful for this man, he’s like the brother I never had, because I refuse to acknowledge the brother I do have.

———————————————————————

Looking out the window, at the passing scenery, I pause. The sun has done down already, so the starts are brighter, the dark is deep and raw.

It sets in.

I’m not going to be living in New York.

I’m not going to see Jake, Charles, Terry, any of them, every single day.

New start, new city.

At least I’ll have Garrett.

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noellawrites · 2 years

Text

Playing for You - Yandere!Marcus White x reader

requested by: @wicked1will0sparkles

summary: kind of a re-write of 2x13, Ladies’ Lunch. You confess your feelings about Marcus while you’re drunk at Ladies’ Lunch while Marcus literally fights for you. Everything culminates when you return to the store. I know Tate wasn’t in the ep but it just fits better like this!

warnings: drinking, female objectification, talk of pregnancy, talk of bodily injuries, cuss words, age gap relationship, vomiting

“I just” you paused to hiccup, “I want someone who will love me unconditionally. L-like what you have with Bo, Chey!”

“Girl please, save some dick for the rest of us!” Justine laughed, taking a sip of her third margarita.

“W-What are you talking about?” you asked, clueless to whatever joke everyone else was in on. You’d been hopelessly single since you started working at Cloud 9– granted, it was mostly because you were juggling work and going to college and you told yourself that you didn’t have enough emotional capacity to serial date right now.

“Look, all Justine’s saying is that Marcus has been pussy whipped for you since the day you put on that blue vest, and everyone else can see it but you,” Dina sighed, raising her hands dejectedly.

“I—that’s not true at all! He just treats me like one of the guys, we’re just buddies!” you argued. But the more you tried to resist, the more you realized they might be right, but still, you picked up very little romance from him and more of a… bromance.

“It seems like you’re rocking hard against this, (y/n). Are you repulsed by Marcus like the rest of us? Because we can devise a plan to let him down easy,” Dina offered, raising her eyebrows at you.

“Alright, alright, I think we should just leave (y/n) alone. Her and Marcus’ feelings are between them,” Amy defended you out of her exhaustion from the conversation. She didn’t want to push you towards liking Marcus if you really didn’t.

“(Y/n), at least tell us if you like him! Or whisper it to me, I won’t tell!” Cheyenne said, leaning towards you. You leaned towards her ear, breaking the silence with a giggle.

You tried to hide the fact that you were tipsy, but as two not-quite-twenty-one-year-olds, you and Cheyenne had loaded up on the alcohol like there was no tomorrow.

“Okay, okay, I’ll tell the truth. I’ve always liked Marcus, I just thought he was… out of my league,” you confessed, rolling your eyes and taking another hefty swig of your vodka cran.

This time, Cheyenne was the one who laughed. “Are you serious, (y/n)? He’s the one that’s out of your league,” she said.

“Yeah, he’s a giant man-child with serious mommy issues and like half the brain cells an adult is supposed to,” Dina pointed out.

“And you’re still tight in all the places that matter! In the old days, we’d call you a butter and egg fly,” Myrtle piped up.

“Uh… thanks, guys. I—” you paused to hiccup again, ”—was just worried because he’s older, and taller, and handsome, and—“

“Okay, okay, we get it, you’d drop your panties for Marcus. Can we move on to something else?” Dina sighed.

“Karaoke!” Justine screamed, cutting off your thoughts as she began pushing everyone towards the stage.

In order to gain some liquid courage before getting onstage, you gulped down three shots of tequila in addition to the three vodka cranberries you’d already consumed. Everything after that felt fuzzy as you floated in and out of consciousness.

—

While you endured a drunken lunch with the ladies of Cloud 9, the store’s men were playing some complicated hybrid ball game called ‘taped muffin.’

“Since Brett is still injured from his MMA fight, Tate will be taking his place in the final shootout. His opponent will be decided by a simple—“ Garrett began.

“I’ll do it,” Marcus stepped in. He’d been glaring at that egotistical asshole of a pharmacist since the game had begun.

Tate had shed his lab coat and now wore bubble wrap taped around the shoulders of his pressed white dress shirt. God, he hated that jerk. Ever since Marcus had watched Tate practically assault you with his flirting, he’d felt nothing short of vengeance towards the man.

“—okay, I wasn’t finished talking but, uh, I guess this game has made monsters out of all of us,” Garrett finished.

Marcus moved next to Tate, who was still flexing his muscles through his fancy shmancy suit.

“Alright, this is it. Winner gets (y/n),” Marcus said under his breath to Tate.

“C’mon dude, you’ve had your chance with her. Are we really going to play a juvenile game to win (y/n) when we already know she’d rather choose me?” he laughed, crossing his arms over his chest.

“And what makes you think that?” Marcus said, gritting his teeth and leaning closer to Tate. He couldn’t wait to hear what this asshole has to say.

Tate laughed. “For starters, I make about ten times what you do. And I can actually give her children, unlike your defective wang. In fact,” he leaned closer, “I can’t wait to put my sperm in that tight body of hers and watch you grovel at my feet for stealing the woman you loved. It’s not my fault she’d never fall for a stupid, brainless, moronic ex-con who still lives with his mommy.” Tate laughed, taking a proud step back.

The men of the store watched as steam practically came out of Marcus’ ears. Sure, he knew you were super gorgeous, smart, funny and way out of his league, but guys like Tate were the reasons why women couldn’t trust men. He was objectifying you, and Marcus was not going to allow that.

As the other men gasped and whispered at Tate’s blatant bullying and womanizing, Marcus swung his fist at the pharmacist’s face, a painful-sounding crunch reverberating from Tate’s face as he fell to the ground, writhing in pain.

“OOOH SHIT! We’re going tap-out style, first one to hold the other down for a three-count WINS (Y/N)!” Garret announced over the loudspeaker.

“I really don’t think anybody should be winning someone,” Jonah pointed out as he stood next to Garrett.

“C’mon, let the poor guy have something,” Garrett said, effectively quieting Jonah.

—

When you woke up again, your upper body lay across Cheyenne’s lap as you sat in the back of whatever truck Dina had kidnapped you all in.

“I-I think I’m gonna be sick,” you groaned, shifting yourself so you wouldn’t throw up all over your best friend.

“Shh, shh, it’s okay, here,” Cheyenne soothed, giving you a Cloud 9 plastic bag. You threw up in the bag twice as Cheyenne held your hair back. This felt like a sick nightmare, you would never drink like this again.

“Is she okay?” a voice asked from behind you in the truck.

“Obviously not, Sandra! Jeez,” Cheyenne said, rolling her eyes. “When we get back to the store, I’m going to get Mateo and he’s going to tell you about how in love with you Marcus is, okay? Mateo is literally an expert on this stuff,” Cheyenne assured you.

Without saying anything, you laid your head on Cheyenne’s ankle as you faded out of consciousness again.

—

“I’ll be okay, I promise,” you said, assuring Amy as she left for the day. Your shift was also technically over, but you didn’t want to leave the store until you felt less sick and more sober.

You grabbed a travel-sized toothpaste tube and a toothbrush off the shelf along with some mouthwash, bringing it to the employee bathroom.

Looking up at your disheveled reflection, you sighed and began to brush your teeth. You hadn’t even started to cope with this new revelation: almost everyone in the store seemed to agree that Marcus was in love with you. How could you be so blind?

More than anything, you wanted to find Marcus and talk to him. He’d probably clear everything up, apologize for the miscommunication and go back to hooking up with Dina or whatever. He always has and always will just see you as a little kid with a stupid schoolgirl crush on her older co-worker.

You sighed, exiting the bathroom. You stumbled towards the front of the store, where you knew Garrett would be for at least another few hours.

To your surprise, Jonah was sitting on the customer service desk next to Garrett as they spoke in low voices. You narrowed your eyes at them, trying to figure out what was going on.

“Uh, guys? Hello?” you interjected, tripping over your foot then leaning on the desk for support.

“Woah there, what’s wrong with you?” Jonah asked.

“I just got… uh, a little drunk at the ladies… thing,” you sighed.

“You missed a lot while you were gone, two guys fought over you,” Garrett announced. Jonah widened his eyes and attempted to shush him.

“What, ah, what he, um, means is that—“

“Dude, she’s gonna find out anyway. Might as well tell her,” Garrett disagreed.

“Just tell me!” you seethed.

“Uh, well, Marcus beat Tate to a pulp because they were both trying to win you in taped muffin, and now Tate’s at SLU Hospital getting a cast for his broken neck and dislocated shoulder and he’ll, um, probably need a nose job too,” Jonah spit out, grimacing at your expression.

“Marcus did all of that?”

“Yeah, he was protecting your honor. It was honestly kinda sweet. I think Mateo recorded it on his phone, if you wanna see it,” Garrett offered.

“What did Tate say about me?” you asked. Behind you, someone cleared their throat and you turned around.

He was the same Marcus you’d had a crush on for over a year, and your feelings still hadn’t changed after learning of what he did for you. If anything, it made you feel more flustered and in love.

“Marcus, I really think you should leave,” Jonah sighed.

“Jonah, shut up. Marcus, you’re staying and we’re talking about this,” you demanded.

Your expression softened when you noticed a cut on his jaw. Suddenly, you just couldn’t help yourself anymore and you threw your arms around the man, feeling his soft sweater and smelling his cheap cologne and 3 in 1 body wash.

You couldn’t help it in your still-drunk state and a tear escaped your eye, you were just so happy that Marcus wasn’t hurt badly and that you were in his arms again.

“I-I’m so glad you’re okay, Marcus,” you sniffled, pulling away hesitantly.

“You should see the other guy,” he grinned, wiping the tears from your eyes.

“I think I’m in love with you and that really scares me, but I had to tell you,” you laughed, snaking your arm with his own and holding his hand.

“I’ve been in love with you since the first day you walked into the break room and Glenn introduced you to everyone,” Marcus smiled, staring into your beautiful eyes. He felt like the luckiest guy in the world.

“I never want to be away from you,” you breathed, leaning into his chest.

“You and me, babe. We’ll never be apart again,” he said before entangling you in the best kiss you’ve ever had, your senses filled with only Marcus, your bodies joined together.

“Is this toxic?” Jonah whispered to Garrett.

“C’mon, they’re perfect for each other. Plus, I’m tired of this will-they-won’t-they crap,” Garrett said.

“You’re right, actually,” Jonah agreed, finally able to see it.

You and Marcus both just wanted a devoted and simple love, and besides, you’d been acting like an old married couple for as long as the store could remember.

#marcus white x reader #marcus white imagine #yandere marcus white #superstore imagine #superstore x reader #yandere superstore imagine

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