#marcus pike one shot

[creedslove]

THE PIKE CHRISTMAS 🎄☃️🎁

Marcus Pike x f!reader

Summary: you and Marcus have a daughter together, co-parenting after your relationship ended but one Christmas together might change it all 🎄

Warnings: fluff, mentions of Marcus' disastrous love life, happy ending

A/N: MERRY CHRISTMAS 🎄🎁

5.7k words

When Olivia was born, Marcus’ life had taken a completely different turn, he had always been a man who dreamed of a family, didn't work with his first wife, then he moved on through a series of relationships that never seemed to take him anywhere until he met Teresa Lisbon. He wouldn't be able to tell why he fell for her as had as he did, he wasn't dumb or clueless as some people assume, he knew she wasn't into him as much as he was into her, and even if that hurt him deep down inside, he thought eventually things would fall right back into place, if she had said yes to his invitation to ditch those pizzas after the end of their mission for pancakes, and then to start sleeping at his place, then going out on a regular basis, until he simply proposed to her in the middle of the hallway at work, it wasn't the most romantic thing he could've done, he was usually a traditional guy, wedding ring, nice dinner, maybe even a serenade and an exchange of love vows before popping the real question, but he did what he could at that moment, what the occasion allowed and thinking of it in retrospect, it was actually a good thing he didn't waste that much time, effort and money into that proposal, because well, even if Marcus Pike was overall a gentle and understanding man, he also would have appreciated if she said no instead of leading him into believing she actually wanted to marry him. It would've hurt him at the time, but just like ripping off a band-aid, it would be quick and straightforward and the pain would go away faster than it did when she cooked him up, giving him hopes for a future together.

So when Teresa broke his heart and treated him as if he was barely an acquaintance to her, he became wary. He didn't like to think of relationships and he closed himself up to any kind of flirtation and stuff like that. He was going through so many changes into his life: a new city, a new position at work, now he wasn't just agent Pike, he was the head of the art department of the FBI, he was a boss, he had more responsibility and less free time, and even if Marcus was aware of his looks and the fact both men and women found him attractive, the fact he was an intelligent man, he made good money and carried a bunch of positive adjectives that could easily get him a possible list of interested women, he chose to step away. So when he met you, he straight up ignored his feelings, the way his palms got sweaty, how pleasant your perfume was and the way his stupid heart skipped a beat whenever you displayed your gorgeous smile at him. A part of him desperately wanted to connect with you, get to know you better, ask you out on a date, and another part of himself begged him not to do it, knowing he wouldn't be able to take another harsh strike of rejection and start over again. Marcus wasn't an old man, he was getting close to middle age, and even if a part of him kept hauntingly reminding him of the fact he hadn't been able to build up a family at that age, he was also so hopeful he was still too young to give up love.

Eventually he couldn't fight his desire for you and a simple lunch between you both escalated to a series of regular dates, and whereas all of his relationships followed the same course of an organized timeline: getting to know each other, officially dating, getting engaged and finally getting married. You, on the other hand, was a complete different ride, it seemed you were going through the same path, following the same stages until you weren't anymore and you showed up at his door on a Thursday night with teary eyes and a pregnancy test in hands, just a few months after you two started dating. That was a whole new ride for him; he was not expecting to become a father even if he wanted to, it still felt too sudden, you both were having more fun than actually having a commitment together, and if he was going to be honest, he didn't actually want to jump into marriage right then, it was risky, scary and he felt it was doomed to be another failure in his love life, he was willing to step up and be a dad to the baby you both were going to have in a matter of months, but he was torn between not wanting to get married just then - as Marcus Pike wasn't opposed to marriage at all - and not wanting to be seen as the asshole who didn't marry the woman he got pregnant. It didn't matter what his colleagues, his family or friends thought of him at that matter, he just didn't want to be seen like that by you. So when you had a heartfelt conversation with him, opening up and listing the reasons why you didn't want to get married he felt a wave of relief over him. You both got to an agreement: you would co-parent your baby, Marcus would pay you child support and everyone would be happy. Even if there was still a lot of mixed feelings, words left unspoken and the prospect of a successful relationship that didn't have enough time to mature on its own, so it was better to close the agreement in being co-parents and friends, it was better than nothing.

You couldn't complain at all, even if you buried deep your feelings for Marcus, he was definitely the best guy to have a baby with, for once, he actually cared about it, he was genuinely happy to become a father even if you weren't a couple any longer, he still made sure to go to all the appointments and exams he was able to, work still got in the way of one or two but he made it to as many as he could. Marcus wouldn't miss the opportunity to get his baby girl whatever he thought she might like some day: toys, clothes, blankets, little shoes. It was a pleasure to spend on her. You still remembered the day he found out you were expecting a girl: he cried. He was never strong enough to hold back his emotions, not when you had a new ultrasound in progress and he could hear his baby's heartbeats loud and clear. And he cried again when you gave birth, he was there the whole time, holding your hand, looking almost as terrified as you were, and the moment her strong little lungs let out a loud wail, you could see the tears running down his cheek freely, warming and melting your heart, mixed up with the pang of not being with Marcus, not going home with him at the end of the day, but with the peaceful assurance you had the luck to find a great man to have a child with.

Olivia was the name picked in agreement by the two of you, but Marcus simply called her Livy, she was his Livy, his sweet tiny little Livy, and even when you asked him why he'd chosen that nickname he shrugged, not having a meaningful or strong explanation, he just liked the sound of it, it made his heart swell with love just to picture the face of that one beautiful princess who would be called his Livy Pike.

The first time you were surprised by the nickname was an odd - but very pleasant evening - you'd spent next to Marcus. He usually had the habit of letting you know when he was going to drop a visit or even call and see if he was allowed to, but that night he got to your place unannounced, looking like he'd had a rough day. He refused your offers to serve him a beer, a glass of wine or even make dinner, he simply asked you to spend some time with you and Olivia, who was still safely tucked in your womb. There was no denying his request, you nodded and lay back on the couch, while he placed his hand on your lap, his face resting against your warm, round pregnant belly and talking to his baby girl. He whispered a bunch of sweet nothings to her, in hopes she would be able to recognize his voice and know how much she was already loved by him. He caressed the sides of your stomach, while your hand went to his smooth, messy hair, playing with his growing curls, exactly the way you used to when you both were a couple, having a glimpse of what life would be like if you two had stayed together after the shock of the pregnancy turned into happiness.

What you didn't know was that Marcus wasn't just having a rough day, it had been more than that, more than just a rough week, it'd been a rough few months. Months of investigation of what was supposed to be pieces of art trafficking, it was supposed to be just about paintings, sculptures and statues being trafficked, but unfortunately, it'd been more than that. It was all a facade for a much worse operation: human trafficking. And that made Marcus so miserable and depressed, he just needed to be reminded there was still something good in the world, he needed time with you and his precious little Livy.

He glanced at your Christmas tree and realized Christmas would be in a few days. He'd been so involved in the investigation and all the tension and stress that comes with it, he had barely acknowledged the upcoming holiday. He hadn't even decorated his apartment like he usually did, he hadn't even bought himself his plane tickets to fly back to Texas and see his family. There was still so much he needed to do but the realization that was going to be the last Christmas he would spend without having a tiny baby in his arms and finally having a little someone call him ‘daddy’, made him smile.

“She'll be here, celebrating with us, next year”

•••

Olivia's first Christmas was going to be printed in Marcus’ memories forever. He didn't actually spend Christmas day with her, as he traditionally went back to his hometown to see his family, but he made sure to get everything done in advance: house decoration, presents, gift-wrapping and everything a dad should be up to on such a special date. Before his baby girl was born, he didn't see the point in decorating only for himself; of course he would set small Christmas tree ornaments and call it a decoration, but that was about it. However, after his precious Olivia came to the world to brighten his life, he felt he owed it to her all the magic he could display. So in a matter of days, Marcus had purchased a brand new Christmas tree, several ornaments and lights and seeing his baby's excited face paid off. One of Pike's favorite memories was when he left a nearly one-year-old Olivia playing with her blocks on the living room carpet for a split second, just to make sure her vegetable soup was ready and returned to find her giggling self ripping off the gift wrap of one of the presents underneath the tree. She didn't know she was supposed to wait a couple of days more, she didn't know technically that was her mama's present, what her daddy had bought you, she just got mesmerized at the bright beautiful colors and went to explore. Marcus felt like he was going to explode into a puddle of love for his daughter. He was truly blessed and forever thankful to you for having got the best present of all.

And so another couple of Christmas passed and his beautiful, lovely, princess Olivia was now a gorgeous and adorable three-year-old toddler, almost going four, which meant Marcus’ heart was often balanced between the pang of seeing his baby grow way too fast and the pride he felt of seeing her blossom into an extraordinary child.

•••

“Higher daddy, higher!” Olivia squealed with happiness and excitement as her dad lifted her up, his grip tight on her sides so she wouldn't slip as she held the angel ornament and put it on top of the tree with tiny little hands. She felt the thrill of being held up so high, because Olivia loved how strong her daddy was and how he always made her fly on his arms; she loved spending weekends at his daddy's place, even if she'd rather have her mommy with them, she still had a lot of fun. Looking around the living, where she had helped her daddy decorate everything, made her happy, she loved the lights, the tree and the little Christmas ballerinas that dance to a sad but beautiful song inside that box. Her daddy had explained to her that it was called “art” and both him and her mommy really liked it, and that art thing made them feel many different things, that was why sometimes something was so pretty that could make her cry.

But Olivia had no time to cry, she was too busy spying the gifts that began to gather around the living room. She knew some were for her, some were for mommy and some were for grandma and grandpa, but most of them were for her. Marcus pulled his daughter closer, snuggling her and feeling her heart beating fast inside her chest. He loved that tiny little princess with all his being, and sometimes such love was overwhelming, as he never really thought he could have something as good as that. He thought of you and his heart dropped a little, picturing what things would have been like if you both had gotten married once you found out about Olivia, he knew you wanted to be free, to work and finish your studies, but he was never oppose to that, if anything, he would've supported you just the same. Even if he wasn't in the right state of mind for a marriage, he still enjoyed picturing you as his wife. He would buy you a beautiful diamond ring, make sure you were happy and satisfied with the life he could provide you, but after some time, he just accepted that maybe the timing wasn't good and his chance was over. Simple as that.

As he put Olivia down and walked to the kitchen with her, he held her hand, who was excitedly waiting for her mac&cheese. His daddy wasn't as much of a good cook as her mommy was, but his mac&cheese was the best in the whole wide world. He served her some in her pink plastic plate and chuckled to see her kicking her legs absent-mindedly while waiting for dinner. Marcus sighed, you were back in his mind, imagine how many family dinners you three could have had together over these years. Of course there were plenty of times you invited Marcus over for dinner, or he did the same with you whenever you were there to pick up Olivia, but it wasn't the same and he just knew it.

“Are you excited for Christmas, baby girl?” He asked Olivia, who chewed her food eagerly, loving the taste of it, seeing her nod and smile.

“I wish we spent it together daddy, you, me and mommy” she pouted, looking like a tiny puppy, which broke Marcus’ heart. He hated that he could never spend that special time with his precious Livy and even more so that you weren't there as well. He cleared his throat and caressed her cheek, her face being tiny against the palm of his hand.

“I'd love that too, honey, but you know, you spend Christmas with mama and I go back to Texas to see grandma and grandpa” he offered her a smile “unless mama let me take you, would you like to go with dada? I bet you'd love to spend a sunny and warm Christmas playing in the pool with your cousins..”

Marcus knew better than anyone he shouldn't really hype up kids the way he just did, but he was also caught in the moment, for a moment he had a glimpse of what spending Christmas day with his daughter would be like, where she could actually visit his parents' home, see his childhood bedroom and the toys he used to play with when he was her age, he would like Olivia to be able to spend that holiday under the warm sun, in one of her gorgeous little dresses, and not in the snowy gray weather of DC. At that moment, he took a decision: he was going to talk to you about it, you had a good relationship, he was sure all it would take was a good conversation and you would let him have Olivia for the holidays, everyone would be happy at end: they would be able to spend more time together and you would have a well-deserved break from the maternity duty.

When you showed up two hours after the time you were supposed to have picked up your daughter, Marcus was aware of your delay, having read the texts you sent warning him of how things at work got complicated and later on how traffic was simply impossible, he did what he could to make your life a little easier, and that included bathing Olivia and helping her into her beautiful reindeer jammies and tucking her in. Then he prepared you a big sandwich, after all, he couldn't cook even if his life depended on it, but if there were two things he could make like a champ, was definitely his mac&cheese and his gigantic sandwiches. He immediately opened the door to you, getting lost into you. You were so beautiful, your body was mesmerizing, your smile was enough to make his heart flutter and for a moment he couldn't believe a woman as gorgeous as you could have been with him, and not only that, you could have had a baby with him. After so many rejections in life, it was still quite difficult for him to believe that was even possible. The way you looked at him, with your eyes sparkling, the same sweet innocence your daughter carried and how small snowflakes were still on your hair, made him fall in love with you just a little bit harder than usual. Even if it was an impossible love to live, it didn't mean it wasn't there.

He invited you inside, which you gladly accepted, greeting him politely and taking off your coat. He guided you to the kitchen, where he'd prepared you something to warm up - hot chocolate - and a big sandwich, sitting next to you, and loving every single minute where he could simply look at your beautiful face and listen to your voice, as you talked about your day, that way, it would be easier for him to daydream you were just a married couple spending some quality time together after a busy day.

•••

“... so all I'm saying is that I could bring Olivia back and then you both could-”

“No”

“But my mom would love to have her over with us for the holidays an-”

“Marcus I said no”

You sighed exhausted at that conversation, you knew something was up the moment you set foot into your ex’s apartment, you thought maybe he was happy to see you, but apparently all he wanted was to convince you to let him take your baby girl away for the holidays. You shook your head and tried wiping away those thoughts. There was no reason you should get on the defensive at that moment, Marcus had always been nothing but nice and gentle to you, he didn't want to steal Olivia away, in fact, his request was even kind of reasonable, even if you weren't going to agree with it. He had such hopeful eyes, those stupid eyes that made you fall in love with him, because you could see the truth in them, the honesty, the kindness Marcus held onto your heart, and those were the same eyes that prevented you from moving on, you would do so much for him if you could, but not that. It was the only thing you wouldn't give up.

He ran his thumb over his bottom lip - an old habit of his that usually went unknown - and shook his head, sighing in frustration. He couldn't understand why you wouldn't give in just a little, he didn't understand why you played so hard to get when it came to that. You had always agreed on everything as a couple and as parents, he didn't see the reason why you were behaving that way.

“Why not?!” He insisted and for a moment you had the impression of talking with a stubborn child. You'd already said you wouldn't agree to it, but he kept on pushing it, and even if a part of you was annoyed and started to get cranky, you had to be reasonable and remind yourself there was no reason to fight, he was just Marcus, your sweet lovely Marcus, who happened to be the best dad in the world and all he was asking was to spend Christmas next to his little girl. You buried your face into your hands, taking a deep breath and organizing your thoughts for a while before you could face him again.

“I said no because you already have your family to spend Christmas with and I don't, Marcus. If I let Olivia go with you, I'll be completely alone, not to mention the fact she's never been that far away from me before, but that's not what worries me…” you finally admitted out loud. You opened your heart to him for the first time in a very long time. After suppressing your feelings and locking them into a tiny box in the bottom of your heart, they were surfacing once more.

“All I'm saying is that, if you take Olivia, I'll be completely alone at Christmas and I don't want that, I don't want to have to invite myself over to friend's dinner parties and stuff like that, it's depressing and Christmas should be about family, so if you are already traveling and visiting yours, it's only fair I get to spend it with my daughter” you explained it to him.

“Our daughter” he interrupted you and you realized you were acting on the defensive the entire time. You felt insecure, always fearing Olivia loved her dad more than she loved you, even if it sounded madness because yes, she loved her daddy with all her ring little heart, but parenthood wasn't a competition, and even if you understood that, you also had another fear: Olivia simply getting used to distancing herself from you, and then your mind took you to several dark places, where you could only picture the worst scenarios of Marcus remarrying someone eventually, simply because he was too good of a man to remain single; and it scared you your daughter would simply choose to be around her dad and his new wife. You couldn't help suffering in anticipation over a rejection that might not even happen but still haunted it nonetheless. He placed his hand on top of yours, the familiar warmth making your heart skip a beat as he looked into your eyes.

“You could come with us, we could all travel to Texas… What do you say?” and it shattered your heart to have to say no to him once more; Marcus was so sweet but also innocent to think that could even be a possibility.

“I can't Marcus” you said and now he noticed there were some tears threatening to spill down your eyes. He was running out of options and needed to know why you were playing so hard to get, before he could inquire with you, you sighed and continued “you know that's not possible…I'd love to travel with you and Olivia, as a family, I'd love to be able to visit your family, but you know I can't, because you know how your mom feels about me, and not only that, your sisters too”

To say Marcus’ family didn't like you was an understatement. They hated you. And they didn't make any effort to hide it from you, not behind Marcus’ back at least. You didn't know if his mom got overprotective due to the heartbreaks he went through over the last couple of years, or if she was one of those obsessive moms who thought no one was good enough for her son. Either way, you could still feel the burning gaze they shot you when they laid their eyes on you since the first time you'd met. It had been on Olivia’s first birthday party and they didn't hide their thoughts on you having a child with Marcus, nor the fact they straight up assumed you were simply a gold digger who was landing a great child support from the newest head of the art department from the FBI, special agent Marcus Pike.

The man, on the other hand, wasn't clueless, he knew his mom wasn't very fond of you, but he couldn't imagine to what extent that was, he thought it was just some normal rivalry and shook his head, apologizing to you, because of course he would apologize. He was a gentleman after all, and he never wanted anyone or anything hurting you. You sighed and licked your lips, a soft blush spreading across your cheeks

“I think what I mean is that I wish we could all spend Christmas together, you, Olivia and me” you admitted “I don't want to be alone, and I don't want you to be without our daughter, I just wish we had a solution for this”

“We do, honey… I'm not traveling anymore, I'm spending Christmas with you both”

•••

When the realization that Marcus would actually spend Christmas with you and Olivia hit, you were in a mix of anxiety and excitement; on one hand, you wanted everything to be perfect, you couldn't wait to have him around and see the joy in your daughter's face. At first Marcus was supposed to come only for the Christmas lunch, but after some thinking you decided to invite him over for the Eve dinner and he could simply stay over, which he agreed immediately, thrilled to know he would get to spend that long with the two of you. Olivia couldn't contain herself, she had already made drawings to her dad, set all her favorite dolls in order so she could play with him and begged you twice to pick a Disney movie to watch, she'd never been that enthusiastic and you'd be lying if you said you weren't excited too. It was like a dream of having a complete family was coming true; both you and Olivia were looking forward to seeing him, picking up dresses to wear and welcome him home, it was thrilling to think of him, it wasn't a secret to anyone how much you really liked him, and though you had wrong timing together, sometimes it felt like things would work between the two of you, and that was what you honestly hoped for. Preparing some easy dinner, you saw how Olivia jumped off the couch the moment the doorbell rang, you barely had time to open the door and Marcus could set foot inside the house before she jumped on him. Marcus was a big man and quite handy too, so he managed to balance a large bag of gifts, a bottle of wine and a toddler in his arms.

You welcomed him inside with a smile, glad to see him, as Olivia finally got off him, running to her bedroom to find whatever drawing she wanted to show him and helping him place down the table the things he brought, you both hugged. He held you in his arms for several seconds, no words exchanged, no greetings, simply acting out the feelings you perhaps had been keeping too buried deep. He buried his face into your shoulder, taking in as much of you as he could, loving your smell and how you still seemed to fit perfectly against his body. He caressed your face and smiled, saying how good it was to see you.

Dinner was very pleasant in his company, Olivia was so excited she seemed like a puppy, which brought you and Marcus to laughter. It was nice having a nice time like that, it felt like you had a family and it was very good. Sharing a bottle of wine, you and your ex-boyfriend were sitting on the carpet, long after your daughter was asleep and safely tucked in, you both were just hanging out, having your fun and chatting about your old times together. You couldn't stop yourself from drooling over Marcus. God, he was so handsome and sweet, he was also smart and polite, which was a very dangerous combination you'd tried first-hand, hence the whole reason why you ended up pregnant. He tilted his head and laughed, making you lose yourself into him.

“... I said I can still smell you on me” he repeated himself, snapping you out of your daydreaming and making you nearly spit out your wine. He had said what?!

“What?!” The blush spreading across your cheek had a little to do with wine, the way he simply dropped those lines and placed a strand of hair behind your ear made your heart race.

“I meant from earlier, when we greeted each other and your perfume is still lingering on me… I like it” Marcus was a little drunk, you could tell it, he'd always been a cute drunk, always snuggly and willing to progress love words. You chuckled and stroked his cheek.

“I'm glad you liked it… would you believe me if I told you I am wearing it for you?” You decided to instigate him just a little, surprised and amused to feel his hand pulling you closer by the waist, his face so close to yours you could feel his faltering breathing before he finally kissed you. Sealing your lips together, you wrapped your arms around him, deepening the kiss more and more, moaning softly into his mouth, wishing and hoping that moment would last forever. His lips were just as soft as you remembered and the more you leaned against him, the more you desired Marcus. He was tall, strong, he always smelled so perfectly and all you could think of that moment was why did it take so long for the two of you to set things straight? Even if you weren't setting things straight, why did it take you guys so long to actually kiss and simply enjoy each other's touch. You couldn't actually tell, but perhaps that was a Christmas miracle. Breaking the kiss was hard, but the way Marcus’ big hand stroked your cheek, so gently as he looked at you as if you were the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen, was worthy. The way he whispered your name and invested in another kiss, not having enough of you. He wanted more, he didn't want to be just Olivia's dad, he wanted to be there for you too, to hold you after a long day of work, to be able to kiss and stroke you gently and make you his. He didn't need a mistletoe to kiss you over and over and even if it technically wasn't Christmas yet, that was the best gift he could've got.

“I need you” he whispered against your lips “I'm tired of hiding my feelings for you, tired of pretending I'm glad when I'm not, when all I want is Olivia and you in my life, baby girl”

You could've jumped out of happiness right there and then. Marcus wanted you, just as much as you wanted him; it wasn't just delusional to think of a future together, all you had to do was say yes to him. When you were about to kiss Marcus once more, Olivia waddled into the living room, with her special Christmas PJs and messy bed hair and jumped onto his lap.

“Hi daddy!” She yawned cutely and snuggled him, which caused the two of you to chuckle in a soft blush and put your kiss aside for a little while.

You wouldn't be able to tell exactly what time you fell asleep with your family, but when you did wake up, you were in your bed - Marcus had carried you to the bedroom as the gentleman he was, Olivia had been tucked once more between the two of you and drifted off to a sweet slumber, which didn't prevent her from waking up extremely early and squealing at the top of her little lungs in excitement once she spotted the presents Santa had left around the living room, making you chuckle, as she tugged your sleeve and took you to the tree.

“Where's daddy, mommy?” Her beautiful sparkly eyes stared into your own at the same time Marcus walked in with a tray full of fresh made pancakes. Of course the sweet, lovely Marcus Pike would wake up early and make breakfast for his family. Placing the plate down, he smiled at his daughter's excitement, as she shredded all those colorful sparkly gift wrappings. You turned to him, calling him for an embrace, as he wrapped his arms around the two of you.

“I want us to have this every year, everyday of a family waking up together, please honey” Marcus whispered against your neck, and in return, you simply kissed his lips, showing him exactly your answer, you wanted the same too.

Olivia got her toys, her plushies and her cute summer dresses, you gave Marcus new bass strings and a brand new shirt that would just look perfect on him, tightening to the right places, and in return he gifted you a golden bracelet. But in reality, what you had gifted each other was Olivia and you were both about to gift her a brand new family, one that started at Christmas and would go on for as long as there was love between you all.

____

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[sirowsky]

The Secret Lake

Happy Birthday, my Love!

@lucrezia-thoughts

Don't think I forgot about you, my darling wife, I have a big dose of your husband ready for you, should you feel the need for some lovable fluff and happiness! I hope you've had a wonderful day, and if you haven't, I hope this helps. All my love, always --J

Warnings: Marcus Pike x female reader (no physical description), some mild insecurity from both characters, otherwise just fluff central. First date-type themes. Kissing happens.

You're looking for a place to cool off during a heatwave, and remembers hearing about a secluded spot that a colleague of yours might know how to find. The hitch is that you're pretty sure he barely even knows who you are.

Word Count: 3630 Author's Masterlist

   It’s blazing hot outside, and you’re desperate for some cool water to dip into, but you know the beach is gonna be packed today and you’re not in the mood for battling sand getting into everything you own.    Anakin was right about that one.

   You know there’s supposed to be a really nice lake somewhere inland, within an hour’s drive, but you don’t know how to find it, and it’s apparently next to impossible to locate, in between high cliffs, unless you have a guide.    There’s one person you know that’s been there, but he’s not someone you socialize with, ordinarily. Which is a shame, because he’s the nicest guy you’ve ever met. Not that you’d spent enough time with him to make a full assessment, and you doubt he’d even remember you after just a casual introduction at the office, months ago.    You’re just a secretary, working for his boss, and while you see him all the time, he passes your desk with a polite smile, but never really looking at you. That’s the curse of being a secretary, even when you’re not the-mouse-in-the-corner-type, you become a part of the décor, and eventually people stop noticing you.

   His number is in your phone, though. You’ve needed to message him a few times for work, to let him know that your boss had to reschedule something, so perhaps he would have you in his as well and would recognize the caller ID.    Screw it. If he doesn’t pick up then no harm done, and if he does and doesn’t remember you or doesn’t feel like helping you out, then at least you won’t have to wonder anymore if he notices you.    The phone trembles slightly when you listen to the rings, part of you hoping that he doesn’t answer, and another part dearly wishing that he does.

   “Pike.”

   The call connects and his voice comes through after seven rings, just when you’d been about to hang up, and you scramble to re-center your brain and remember what the hell you called him for.

   “Oh, hi… I’m sorry…”

   Your mind goes blank and for a moment you’re about to panic, but then a soft chuckle comes across the line.

   “Are you apologizing for calling or for saying hi? Because you haven’t done anything else to me yet, Daisy.”

   Your chest tightens at the sound of your nickname, given to you by some other colleagues because of the one personal item on your desk: a conserved daisy in a glass frame.    You’ve never told anyone why you have it, only that it’s very important to you, and of course, the mystery soon earned you the name. But you love it.    Shit, he asked you a question, what was it?

   “Uh, I’m just sorry to bother you, Agent Pike.”

   “Marcus, please. We’re both off duty. Now, what can I do for you?”

   “Right. Well, I was just wondering if you could give me some directions to the secret lake? I remember hearing you mention to another agent that you’d been there, and I’m just dying to cool down somewhere that isn’t the beach.”

   “Yeah, I’ve been there, but there’s no way I can describe the route well enough that you’ll find it on your own.”

   “Oh. That’s okay, thank you anyway, I really am sorry if I interrupted something.”

   “Hey, I wasn’t done. Will you stop trying to convince me that you’re bothering me, and let me tell you what I’m thinking?”

   “Sorry. Again.”

   You hear him huff on the other end, and you’re not sure if it’s in annoyance or bemusement.

   “I can’t describe it to you, but I’d happily show you the way.”

   You nearly fall over with shock, even though you’re sitting down.

   “Seriously? I mean, you absolutely don’t have to…”

   “Daisy. Stop. I’ll pick you up outside your apartment in 20. Okay?”

   He-… he knows where you live?

   “O-Okay.”

   You quickly pack your things and throw together some snacks before heading down to wait for him by the road, partly in the interest of saving time, but also because you’re not sure how you feel about him potentially seeing the inside of your apartment. It’s small so even if he only stood in the doorway, he’d see most of it, and it’s a mess.    Sure enough, he’s there within the promised time, and you quickly put your things in the backseat before getting into the front passenger seat, as he stops by the curb, breathing a little easier once you’re in the cool airconditioned space.

   You almost audibly gulp as you take in the sight of him, while reaching over to fasten your seatbelt. Because you’ve only ever seen him in the practically trademarked FBI-suit they all wear, but now he’s in a white button-down cotton shirt with short sleeves, that fits loosely over his tanned chest, the top three buttons undone.    And he’s wearing light blue bathing shorts, clearly intending to enjoy a day at the lake as well, and you can’t help but wonder if he’s meeting someone else there, or something. Because he can’t be about to just hang out with you, that’s… inconceivable.

   “Hey. Nice to see you outside the office.”

   “Hi. This is so kind of you, Marcus, I didn’t even think you’d pick up, much less actually come and show me the way.”

   “Why would you think I wouldn’t pick up?”

   “Just because we don’t know each other. I figured you’d assume that it was about work and just ignore it, since you’re on vacation.”

   “Huh. I didn’t even think of that. But I was really glad that it was about this, because I was thinking about going out there myself, but it didn’t sound like much fun to go alone.”

   “But you must have people you could’ve called, friends or family. I’m sure there’s always someone who wants to hang out with you.”

   He smiles at that, but it’s a jaded kind of smile.

   “Believe it or not, but doing this job makes it hard to keep up a social life of any sort. All my friends are fellow agents, and while I enjoy spending time with them, it’s always work. Even when we’re off duty, that’s where the conversations go, because that’s what we all have in common, and it’s just not healthy, you know?    I’m bad enough at leaving work at work as it is, I don’t need enablers dragging me back to it in my spare time.”

   You feel bad hearing that, since you’re work-related for him too, and now you don’t know what to say, because you want to apologize but you know he won’t appreciate it.    You stare out the passenger side window, watching city traffic and built-up areas fade away into wilderness as he drives further out of town.

   “Hey, why so quiet, Daisy?”

   “Uh, just enjoying the calm. My neighbours aren’t the quiet types.”

   “Truth. But not all of it. What’s bothering you?”

   You take a breath and glance at him, and damnit… Why did he have to be the most beautiful man in the world?

   “You said you wanted to get away from work.”

   He connects the dots effortlessly; you can see it in his body language even from the corner of your eye.

   “Okay. Clearly, we need to get something straight here.    When I talk about work what I mean is active cases. Leads, interrogations, raids, research, meetings, paperwork, bureaucracy.    You are not work to me, Daisy, you’re the sunshine that sits in an otherwise grey and dull building wearing colours and offering a dazzling smile to anyone that passes.    You’re always helpful, you never seem to have a bad day, or if you do, you’re a master at hiding it. You’re never too far away from a quip or a well-phrased come-back and there is nothing about you that reminds me of work.    So will you please stop trying to tell yourself that you’re gonna somehow ruin my day, because I’m really looking forward to spending some time with you.”

   He pauses and waits for a reply, but you have no idea what to say.    That entire little speech tells you that you’ve been wrong about him this whole time. He does notice you. A lot more than you ever would’ve thought. And while that does boost your confidence significantly, it also makes you terribly nervous.    He doesn’t wait for you to try and gather your thoughts before he continues, making you wonder if he’s nervous too.

   “I was slow to answer today because I did expect it to be work. But when I saw that it was you… I was excited. I am excited. I’d like to get to know you.”

   By now, you’re staring at him, attempting to absorb that he might actually be interested in you, but you soon realize that that’s gonna take a while, and he needs some reassurance.

   “Thank you. I’d really like to get to know you too.”

   He smiles widely, that perfect dimple on full display, and just minutes later, he turns onto a dirt-track that ends after about a mile, where he parks on a patch of dirt next to some boulders.

   “Alright, we’ll have to hoof it from here.”

   “How far is it?”

   “Not very. Maybe twenty minutes. And this is the only way in, so unless someone hiked here, it looks like we got the place to ourselves.”

   You try not to show how that makes the butterflies in your stomach go bananas, while you put on your backpack and fall in behind him.    It’s not the easiest trek you’ve ever done. It’s rocky and requires some light climbing for most of the way, finally making you see why this has never become a popular hangout.    But once you get past the rocky part, you’re suddenly engulfed by thick vegetation that you have to wrestle your way through, until it abruptly just ends, and you’re there.

   Tall cliffs that are vertical in their drop against the water, but also very steep on the opposite side, encircle a small lake full of clear blue water. The entryway brings you to a huge flat rock that’s half submerged, and that’s as much beach as there is.    Birds are singing all around you, actual butterflies flittering about everywhere, tiny flowers growing where tree-roots have stretched into the water above the rocks, bringing other seeds along with them.    It’s magical. But still just as hot as the city had been and now you’ve been climbing too.

   “It’s spring water, filtered through mineral deposits underground, that’s why it’s so clear-…”

   He cuts himself off when you run past him and dive headfirst into the cool liquid, having clearly not noticed that you’ve already stripped your top and shorts off and aren’t all that interested in why the water is special.    But by the time you breach the surface again, he’s already discarded his shirt and is on his way to join you, that big smile firmly in place right up until he dives.    The water’s cold compared to the air, shockingly so, but it only takes moments for your body to appreciate it and for the haze that the heat somehow drugs your mind with, to get blown away.

   You don’t wait for him to reach you before you start leisurely swimming towards the other side of the pool, but he catches up to you in no time, falling in next to you but staying quiet as he can see that you’re admiring the place still.    At the far end of the lake, you’re surrounded by cliffs, creating a chamber of sorts, that echoes every sound, even the tiny splashes from your swim-strokes, seeming to amplify the sounds, which fascinates you.    Turning back, you dive underwater and practice holding your breath while you try to map the bottom, only to find that it’s way too far down for you to even guess at the depth of the water.

   Since the flat rock is partly submerged, there’s no trouble getting back out, you just swim until you can put your feet down on it and then walk up until you reach the dry area.    Marcus is right behind you, but he lingers in knee-deep water for a while as you go to your bag to pull out your towel and lay it out on the smooth stone, and it’s not until you’ve finished that you notice that he’s watching you.

   “How’s the view, Mr. Pike?”

   He makes no attempt to conceal the fact that he’s been eyeing you, only smiling again as you challenge him.

   “Oh, it’s gorgeous, Miss Daisy.”

   Playing along (and seizing the opportunity) you ogle him right back, from his hair down to his knees, and then back up, slowly, taking in every detail, before landing on his suddenly slightly self-conscious eyes.

   “I’ll have to agree with you on that.”

   He chuckles and runs a hand through his dripping wet hair, lingering at his neck while his head dips forwards to hide his embarrassment, all while he slowly makes his way out of the water and comes to pull out his own towel.    After settling down next to you, you both fall into an odd kind of silence. Not pressured or uncomfortable, really, but… a bit like there’s a piece of glass between you that neither of you know how to break. So, you just sit there, quietly soaking up the sun and stealing sideways glances at each other.

   Until you remember your snacks and reach into your bag to pull out an assortment of fruits, crackers, cheese and nuts, and the moment you invite him to dig into the food, the glass brakes.    You talk about a hundred different things, only once or twice straying into work-territory by sharing funny anecdotes or trivia about colleagues. But mostly just telling each other about things you like or have experienced or things that are just memorable, even if they are largely insignificant.

   And before you know it, the sun has dipped below the ridge of the cliffs, the food is all eaten, your bathing suits are dry and the magic of the day is running out, like Cinderella’s chiming clock, forcing you back to reality.    His eyes meet yours, and you both know that it’s time to go, but neither of you say it.    The quiet settles back in between you while you get dressed and pack up, but before you leave, you turn back for one last look out over the lake, feeling like it has somehow shared a secret with you.

   The climb back to the car is even harder on the way down, and without Marcus, you never would’ve managed it. But you get back unscathed and pack yourselves into the vehicle, driving back with that same silence sitting like some unseen third passenger between you, disturbing the zen.    He stops in the parking lot outside your building this time, in the overnight spots, but he leaves the engine running, as if trying to showcase that he won’t stay unless you ask.

   “So… I had a lot of fun today.”

   “Me too. I’m really glad I called you, Marcus.”

   “Please feel free to call me again. Anytime.”

   “Same to you.”

   He smiles, but it’s uncertain now. Tentative.    You bite your bottom lip and throw a look out of the windscreen, trying to decide if you have the courage to kiss him goodbye, or if he’ll even want you to. You feel like he probably won’t mind at least, but there’s no way to know unless you ask or just go for it.

   “What are you thinking, Daisy?”

   The nickname shifts your thoughts, to a different time but oddly similar situation, and you smile warmly as the fond memory plays out before your eyes for the ten thousandth time.

   “Would you like to know why I keep that flower?”

   Looking back at him, you see his smile deepen, and he nods.

   “It was given to me by a girl named Penny when I was just six years old.    She was this rowdy little thing that used to get us into trouble, but she had the most adorable smile and almost always managed to charm our way out of it too.    One day, out of the blue, while we were hiding in the middle of a meadow, she kissed me. And not some little peck either, a long, warm kiss that gave me goosebumps. My very first one.”

   His eyes have turned into enamoured puddles and the most enchanting smile adorns every angle of his features, making your insides purr.

   “Then she pulled back, picked the first flower she saw and tucked it behind my ear, and that was the last time I ever saw her. She moved away the next day.    I keep the flower because it reminds me that love is ageless. I look at it and I still remember those goosebumps, that feeling that something very special was happening, and it makes me smile, even on my bad days.”

   “So, then you do have bad days. Damn. That means I can’t read you as well as I thought, you’ve been deceiving me all this time.”

   “Marcus… who the hell doesn’t have bad days? Of course I do, I just keep a professional mask on.”

   “I know, but that’s what makes it so impressive, because I genuinely have tried, but I’ve never been able to tell. Not once. And I detect deception for a living.”

   That gives you an idea. Maybe a terrible one, but if you’re ever gonna go for it…    Utilizing his apparent inability to tell what you’re thinking, you keep your face in the same comfortable joyful expression you’ve had for most of the afternoon, not giving him any hint as to what you’re about to do.    Taking a page from Penny, you don’t give him a chance to pull away, swiftly leaning over the center console to slot your lips against his, forcing your hands to stay in your lap so that you won’t reach up and try to hold him in place, in case he doesn’t want this.

   Once he catches on, though, he all but surges into the kiss, his own hands showing none of the restraint yours have managed, coming up to cradle your face while he completely takes over control, licking at your lips, begging for more. And when you let him in, he instantly softens again, inviting you as much as he devours you.    Your hands tangle in his hair, tug at his shoulders, utterly unable to get enough of him and suddenly hating the confines of the car making it impossible to get closer.    But then he shifts his left arm, and accidentally hits the horn, the sharp signal startling you both into pulling back, and you chuckle breathlessly.

   “I’ve wanted to do that all day.”

   His eyes are bottomless pits of lust now, but there’s so much affection in there too that it makes you crave him just as much.

   “Daisy… I’ve wanted to do that for fucking months.”

   “You couldn’t have given me even the tiniest hint of that? I thought you didn’t even know my name, much less my nickname.”

   He’s a little taken aback by that, cocking his head to the side and studying you closely.

   “I’m sorry. You’re right, I haven’t shown you anything but my own mask as well.”

   “You know what, Marcus… I think we kinda suck at this.”

   That makes him laugh in earnest, and it infects you, but also effectively wipes any and all remaining tension away between you.    And suddenly you don’t care what state your apartment’s in, or that the neighbours are terrible, you just want him to stay.

   “You wanna come in?”

   Something very… expansive, emanates from him as he hears that. As though a whole new world has opened up and become available to him, and his eyes sparkle when he reaches for you, kissing you again, just as fervently.    And when he breaks it, he stays close enough that his lips still brush against yours with each word he says.

   “Yes. Yes, I really, really do. Which is why I should leave.”

   You know that he’s right, that it’s careless to move too fast, that it can wreck things before they’ve even begun, but you still whimper and feel a pout settle into your face.    He tries to kiss it away, and he almost succeeds, except that it comes right back as soon as he pulls away again, which makes him laugh more.

   “How about you come to my place for dinner tomorrow. My neighbours are quiet.”

   “Done.”

   You both giggle at how fast and decisively that reply comes out, and then he gets out of the car to help you with your bag, even though it’s just a backpack.    You take it and start walking towards your door, but then turn so that you’re backing the last few steps, letting you look at him where he’s leaned against the back bumper of the car.

   “Text me your address, Mr. Pike. Some of us don’t snoop in other people’s personnel files.”

   His eyebrows shoot up at that, clearly not expecting you to have figured that out, and you smile triumphantly. Because he could’ve just looked you up online, but something tells you that he probably thinks it’s less creepy if he just looks at a file, he does that all the time.

   “I peeked. Just one little peek.”

   “Yeah, yeah. I’ll see you tomorrow, beautiful.”

   His gaze takes a trip around the parking lot while he smiles bashfully at your compliment, and then he pushes off the bumper and heads for the driver’s door, giving you one last lingering, craving look before he steps in and drives off.

THE END

-------------------------

Tagging some lovely people, just because.

@idreamofboobear @deadhumourist @lucrezia-thoughts @nolanell @tintinn16 @bison-writes @tiffanyleen @sarahjkl82-blog @la-lunaluna @tanzthompson @cannedsoupsucks @toomanystoriessolittletime @sj-draws00 @agingerindenial @prostitute-robot-from-the-future @shsoba05 @thisshipwillsail316 @f0rever15elf @dornish-queen @herefordistractions @littlemisspascal @sewmanystitchssewlittletime @ophelialoveshandsomemen @myfavpedrothings @ezras-channel-rat @winter-fox-queen

#happy birthday wifey!! #marcus pike #marcus pike fanfiction #marcus pike one shot #marcus pike fluff #marcus pike x fem!reader #marcus pike x female reader #marcus pike x you #the mentalist fanfic #the mentalist one shot #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction

[freelancearsonist]

in shades of gray and candlelight

➔ Marcus Pike x fem!Reader - 7.2k

➔ Nothing good starts in a getaway car, but you sure do have fun delaying the inevitable.

➔ Rated MA for artist!reader my beloved (reader is able-bodied, basic female anatomy and feminine pronouns used, reader is described as having hair that is long enough to be put up but otherwise she’s a blank slate), unprotected p in v sex, cum swallowing, creampie, semi-public sex acts, oral (r + m receiving), handjobs, fingering, very light switchy dom/sub dynamics, a couple spanks, pet names (sweetheart, pretty girl, baby, honey), heavy praise kink, light size kink, consent king!marcus, just like the song it does not end happily [please let me know if i missed any at all :)]

➔ this is my (first 😈) submission to @beskarandblasters Taylor Swift Drabble Challenge! i really did mean for this to be a drabble especially since i didn't know anything about marcus before receiving this prompt but he has my whole fucking heart and mind now 😩 thank you so much for the challenge lovely kel, and special thank u to my baby @fhatbhabie for betaing and screaming with me ily <3 (dividers by the amazing and talented @saradika-graphics)

You meet Marcus Pike on a Friday night and it’s obvious from the start that he’s going to change your life forever.

He looks a little disheveled when he enters the gallery–brown hair ruffled and standing up in places, tie loose, top shirt button undone. There’s an alluring five o’clock shadow burgeoning across his jaw and cheeks. He looks like he’s had a long day, and it’s only going to get longer. It’s all part of the plan, of course. He’s supposed to look like a standard blue collar worker, and he pulls it off with ease.

It’s the exhibition’s opening night, so it’s a little more packed than the gallery normally would be. It works in his favor–he’s able to collect a plastic cup of champagne from the refreshment table and blend seamlessly into the crowd.

His eyes are diligent as they scan the faces that come and go. He tries to commit them all to memory–the tall woman with the slight limp, the short guy wearing the Hawaiian patterned shirt. There’s dozens of people that pass by, and so many of them are forgettable. It’s exhibitions like these that make him dread undercover work.

The art on the walls isn’t exceptional, but it’s not bad. Nothing that seems worth stealing, that’s for sure. But his source is good, and his source said that this place was getting hit tonight. So he keeps his watchful eyes vigilant and pretends to sip the champagne in his hand.

Until he finds your exhibit.

There’s a depth to your art that he’s come to be familiar with–something he sees often in work of high value. Anyone can make abstract art, it’s as simple as flicking paint at a canvas. But few can charge it as emotionally as you have. To convey feeling and passion and heart through abstraction is a separate art form all its own, and it’s one you’ve mastered.

He’s seen original Rothko’s, Van Gogh’s, Kandinsky’s; he’s held their frames in his own two hands. But nothing’s ever made his breath hitch in his throat quite the way yours does.

He stands in front of a canvas simply labeled “Waves In Motion” with your name printed neatly underneath, brow creased with a concentration that seems a little unnecessary given the subject matter of the painting. It’s all shades of blue and violet, swirling together in a way that seems partly sensuous, partly violent. It makes the hair on the back of his neck prickle, and he takes a step closer. That’s when he notices it: a single dot of red paint right in the middle, a focal point of all the swirling cobalts. So small that he wouldn’t notice it if he wasn’t close; so small it could almost be interpreted as a mistake.

But he knows without having to ask that it’s not an answer. He wonders who that dot represents: you, the artist? Most likely.

Without meaning to, he smiles. It’s been a long time, years really, since a piece of art provoked such thought. 

“Hi.”

The voice Marcus hears next to him is soft, dulcet. He doesn’t turn to the noise quickly–from the tone in that word alone he senses a hesitance, as if you’re a fawn that’s lost its mother and you’re bound to run if he makes any sudden movements.

And, truth be told, part of him thinks he might not be able to look away even if he tried right now. There’s something so beautiful about this painting–and underneath, something so ominous. There’s an air about the work that says he might unlock the secrets of the universe if he just keeps looking.

“Hi there.” He keeps his eyes trained on “Waves In Motion” as he responds–playing the game. He’s here to brush shoulders, after all; to be the right amount of forgettable yet memorable. 

“This is my best, I think,” you murmur while taking a step closer. “It took the least time of all of them, surprisingly. But… I think when you know exactly what you’re trying to convey, it just comes to you easily.”

“These are yours?” There’s admiration in his eyes and an air of something akin to disbelief in his voice as he takes in the group of canvases proudly displayed on the plain white gallery walls.

And then he turns and lets himself take you in. More specifically the curling strand of hair that falls out of your updo to frame your face, the deeply plunging neckline of your dress, the way your calf muscles work even standing still in your high-heeled shoes. You’re a work of art in your own right; the most beautiful piece he’s seen in a long time.

“Yeah.” You duck your head–shyly, modestly–and he’s hooked. There’s one thing in this building that deserves awe and reverence more than your painting, and it’s you. “You know, you’re only the second person who’s come over tonight.”

“No way. They’re all just working their way back here,” he whispers before he can calculate a more articulate response.

But it works in his favor–your giggle is gorgeous, if a sound can be described that way. Sweet and syrupy, it seeps over him as if he’s standing under a cracked honeycomb. He hasn’t actually taken a drink of his champagne, and yet he can feel his nervous system tingling. You’re just that intoxicating.

“The gallery closes in half an hour,” you tell him–a little wistfully at that. “In my defense, I don’t have any family or friends in the area. I wasn’t really expecting anyone to show, not with so many other talented artists here.”

It seems so indignantly unfair to Marcus. That you’re shoved into the far back corner of the gallery, that people haven’t come in droves from all over the country to see your work.

“Where are you from?” He asks as his mind finally starts to clear from the haze it’s been in the past few minutes. With only half an hour left on the job, he allows himself a small sip of the drink that he’s been cradling all night.

“New York. This is actually only my second exhibition,” you explain, and you almost sound shy about it; as if you need to be embarrassed about being young and fresh-faced in the art industry, as if you aren’t the most talented artist Marcus has ever met in person.

He hums in response, eyes unconsciously dragging over you once more. “You came a long way for this.”

You smile so prettily up at him, and in that moment he sees something in your eyes. He can’t describe it–maybe it’s something akin to longing. Something incomplete, unexplored. It’s familiar; it’s the red dot from your painting. Solitary amidst the swirling, lost yet not hopeless.

And just like your painting, he finds himself wanting to get lost in your eyes.

“Well, it’s not every day a gallery wants to host you,” you say after another sip of your drink. “Plus, I’ve never been to Texas before, and I needed a change of scenery.”

There’s something so charming, so boyishly intoxicating about the smile he graces you with. “How are you liking it so far?”

“It’s hotter than I’m used to,” you say with a chuckle that he echoes. “And I haven’t been able to do any exploring yet, my flight only got in a couple hours before I had to be here.”

“That’s a shame,” he hums in a tone that reveals deeper meaning. “How long are you here for? Do you have any plans?”

“A week,” you murmur. Subconsciously he leans in closer, on the edge of his proverbial seat. To seal the deal, you lean in too. “And not a damned one.”

There’s no air between you and Marcus. You exist in a vacuum for this moment–unable to breathe, choking on anticipation. He’s so close, yet way too far away. You want to be consumed by him–for him to be swirling blue; and you, a single speck of red in his midst.

The moment shatters with an audible sound–a deep, penetrating voice. “He’s still not here, huh? I don’t think your boyfriend’s coming. If he even exists.” There’s something strange in the raspy voice that drawls these words–something strange enough to immediately put Marcus on the alert.

You flinch at the sudden intrusion into your vacuum, but you recover quickly. You have to, because this intrusive stranger is standing way too close and has way too much alcohol on his breath.

And then something strange happens–you worm your arm around Marcus’s waist and press yourself firmly into his side.

“Actually, he’s right here,” you say. There’s a quality to your voice that wasn’t there before when you were just talking to Marcus–it’s firm, clipped, bordering on hostile. “He just got held up at work. Isn’t that right, babe?”

Thankfully, Marcus has always been one to think quickly on his feet. He wraps his arm around your shoulders and pulls you closer, unconsciously moving an inch or two in front of you. Protecting without really meaning to. “I’m sorry, honey. I got here as soon as I could.”

The man–burly and balding, probably a good twenty years older than you–scoffs. “Unbelievable.”

“Is there a problem here?” Marcus draws up to his full height–towering a good few inches over this strange intruder.

Whoever this guy is, he’s not completely stupid. He senses this isn’t going to be a fight he’ll win, so he backs off. “Not at all, man. Just didn’t want little miss standing here all alone the whole night.”

“Thanks,” you say with bitter reprehension. You wind even closer to Marcus–closer than this sudden farce demands. “But we’re fine now.”

He nods once–curt and unhappy, but seemingly satisfied that he’s not going to get what he wants. “Have a good night, ma’am. Sir.”

Marcus takes a mental inventory of the man as he storms off, committing his physical description and his outfit to memory. He doesn’t look like a casual art viewer, and he doesn’t look like a collector. He’s exactly the type that Marcus came here to look out for.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper as you step out of Marcus’s personal space. “He’s been hovering all night, asking me who I’m going home with and shit.”

“That’s the other guy who came over to talk to you?” It brings a deep frown to his face, a crease forming between his brows. It certainly raises a red flag–if the guy has any eye for value, of course he would be drawn to your exhibit. And if he has an eye for value, he could be the guy Marcus came for.

“Yeah.” You rub the back of your neck awkwardly and avert your gaze, as if you should be embarrassed for drawing that guy’s attention. “It’s not been the greatest night.”

Marcus hates that. He hates that you came all this way to be let down, that this is only your second exhibition and you’ve had such a bad experience with it. More than anything, he hates that he can still see the spark in your eyes when you look up at him, and he can tell that it’s dimmed.

“Gimme just a minute.”

He doesn’t mean to be so abrupt, but he wants to make it quick. He hustles to the single-stall men’s room and tugs the radio out of his inside jacket pocket to call in the man’s description. Then he turns it off, tucks it back into its concealed pocket, and goes over to the sink.

He thought he looked perfect for the part he had to play when he left his house to come here. Now, he’s too disheveled. He wets his fingertips and tries to tame the mess on top of his head; he re-buttons his shirt and tightens his tie. He looks flustered, and he’s not even surprised by it. You’ve got his heart pounding with anticipation in a way he doesn’t think it ever has before.

Butterflies fluttering on in his stomach, he emerges from the restroom to resume his position by your side.

Except you’re not by your exhibit anymore, and the crowd has thinned considerably. He checks his watch and realizes there’s only five minutes before the gallery closes for the night. Maybe you’ve decided to cut your losses and leave early.

He hates the way his gut twists with disappointment, but then he reminds himself that he didn’t come here for you. He’s working, and he needs to stay vigilant. No distractions, no complications.

“You’re still here.”

There’s a wave of relief that washes over him as he hears your voice, and this time he’s not too timid to turn towards you. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Thought I might’ve scared you off.” There’s a fresh cup of champagne in your hand and a hint of vulnerability in your voice, and it makes his heart pick up pace just the slightest bit. You duck your head–that shy, modest gesture again. “I… I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have just done that without permission.”

“Don’t be sorry,” he tells you, more earnestly than he’s ever said anything in his life. “I didn’t mind at all, I swear. Just had to hit the head.”

You look so deeply into his eyes he almost wonders if you aren’t looking through him. But whatever you find, you must like it.

He clears his throat and tries to not show how thoroughly unraveled he is by your gaze. “I’m Marcus, by the way.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Marcus.” You pause for a moment, and he can tell that there’s something else lingering on the tip of your tongue–so he remains silent in hopes of drawing it out.

“Do you have someone to go home to?”

There it is–the invitation he was both dreading and hoping for. He should really lie. He’s here on a job, after all–he’s supposed to avoid complications, and some instinct tells him you’re going to be much more than a simple distraction. But he’s told you the truth so far, and he doesn’t want to stop now.

“No. No, I don’t.”

This is everything that Marcus has never even considered doing. It’s late, it’s dark, it’s a little chilly for spring in Austin. The alley is grimey and drafty–your hair blows in the breeze even as you kneel down before him.

All he can do is stand there, dumbstruck with his back up against the rough brick wall, and stare down at you. 

He’s still breathless from the way you’ve been kissing him–all heat and passion, fire and brimstone. Your hands ran through his hair and undid the effort he put in while in the bathroom, and his hands clutched your waist in a futile attempt to ground himself. Your lips are so soft; he thinks he could kiss you forever and never get tired of it. He was certainly planning on finding out, until you dropped to your knees in front of him.

“You… you don’t have to–”

But the way you look up at him through your lashes makes his throat close up around whatever protest he was going to try.

“I want to,” you assure him–more of a purr than a spoken statement.

And this really isn’t the place. He shouldn’t let you do this here. But he’d be lying if he said the thought didn’t make him harden in his boring gray work slacks.

Marcus has never been about excitement. He’s always strayed to the comfortable and familiar–he falls into the sweet, caring companion role with grace and ease.

And tonight doesn’t have to be that different. If you’re going to suck his dick in a dark, dingey alley, he’ll let you. But he’s going to lay his jacket down on the ground so you don’t scrape up your knees first.

You keen at the thoughtful gesture and grace him with a grateful smile as your adept fingers work his belt open. He’s straining against the seam of his pants now, begging for the attention that your gaze promises him.

If he didn’t know better, he’d think you’re every bit as eager to get his trousers and boxers down as he is.

And Lord help him, he delights in the gasp you emit when his cock springs free from its confines.

“Fuck, Marcus.” Your lips actually part as you freeze for a moment, just taking him in. He’s thick, maybe an inch longer than average, swollen head peeking through uncut skin as if begging for your waiting mouth. He curves to the left just a little bit, and you can almost see his pulse thrumming through the prominent vein that runs along the length of him.

“S’not that impressive,” he mumbles, and you know that he knows that he’s full of shit.

Your fingers almost don’t wrap all the way around him, and suddenly you’re second-guessing this back alley stint, too. You want him in bed. You want him deep inside you, kissing your face as he fucks you, hands all over your body, thrusts hard yet slow. You want it languid, you want it desperate, you want it any way he’ll give it to you. You don’t want to blow him and say goodbye.

He calculates your hesitation as something other than pure unadulterated lust, and he lifts your chin gently with his index and middle fingers.

“Hey, we don’t have to–”

Again, you cut him off–this time, by dragging your tongue from the seam of his balls all the way along his length to swirl messily around his tip. You taste every heady inch of him and then moan at the salty foreshadowing on your tongue when you catch a droplet of precum leaking from his slit.

Your hand springs into action with a long, slow stroke along his cock, and then you sink your mouth around him and he moans. Without caution or pretense, like you’re not in an alley that anyone could walk down at any moment. It’s a little more high-pitched than he’d like for it to be and his head thumps back against the brick wall hard enough to hurt, and even still he’s never felt so overwhelmed with pleasure before in his life.

Your nose meets the neat patch of hair at his base and your free hand comes up to his hip, effectively pinning him against the wall when he tries to buck greedily even further into your mouth.

No one’s ever taken him so relentlessly before. You’re insistent, pressing onward even as you gag on his length, and it makes his balls tighten in a way he’s never felt before. It’s like you’re hungry for him; like you’re doing this more for your own pleasure than for his.

Marcus Pike has been a giver his whole life. Tonight, with you, he finally decides to take.

He’d be embarrassed about how fast he comes if you weren’t so eager for it. You moan around him and push yourself as deep as you can, throat working around him desperately not to choke on the size of him. Before he can warn you he’s spilling into your mouth, maybe more than he’s ever come before, thick and salty but undeniably sweet too. You allow yourself a moment to savor him as he pulses in your mouth, tongue swirling around the sensitive head of him in a way that makes him shiver and whine.

He’s panting, nearly light-headed, when you finally pull off of him and press one last gentle kiss over his slit.

“Holy shit,” he murmurs, because there’s nothing else to say.

You giggle, and he realizes with a strange wistfulness that he would do anything to keep this girl–a girl he’s just met, a girl who’s leaving to go back to her home on the other side of the country in just a week–smiling and laughing the way she is now.

“My hotel is only a couple blocks away,” you tell him as he helps you to your feet. “Would you like a nightcap?”

You pick up his jacket and dust the grime off it–it makes him chuckle. Everything about this encounter has flown in the face of what he’s used to. 

He’s never felt so alive.

“I would love a nightcap.”

Your senses wake up slower than normal.

First it’s your eyes–they tune in on the bright mid-sunrise light streaming through the open balcony blinds on the far wall. It falls in slivers and shards over the rumpled white hotel-standard bedding–the second thing your senses tune into. Everything is so soft and light, but it’s a little cold too. Especially the other side of the bed; there’s no heat remaining there at all.

You push yourself up with a grunt and let the sheets fall away from your bare torso, tired eyes scanning around the room. You notice clothes scattered all over the floor while your ears wake up enough to hear water running in the bathroom, and you can’t help the involuntary smile that spreads over your face. He’s still here.

Marcus lets the too-hot water wash over him in scalding waves, muscles still a little sore after a long night tangled together with you.

He checked his phone first thing this morning, and the gallery was quiet all night. They think the suspect he radioed in was the guy they were looking for, but they weren’t able to apprehend him. The running theory is that he might’ve recognized Marcus and decided low-value art wasn’t worth the hassle, but one guess is as good as the next until they can bait and catch the guy.

It’s the weekend now, and Marcus is thanking his lucky stars. Not only does he have a successful mission to celebrate, but he has the most beautiful woman in the world to celebrate it with.

He emerges after a few minutes, wet hair messily scattered over his forehead and wide hips straining against a low-slung hotel towel. He’s a languid Saturday morning wet dream on two legs.

“G’morning,” he hums with a smile–he doesn’t even try to hide the way his eyes dip down to hungrily take in your naked torso.

“Good morning, Marcus.”

He stalks towards you slowly, eyes darkening with each advancing step. It doesn’t take more than a second to realize he didn’t get his fill of your body last night, but you’re certainly not complaining.

He’s already starting to harden as he drops his towel and crawls over the foot of the bed, surging forward to capture your lips in a sweet kiss. If last night was desperation and passion, this morning is syrupy and sweet. He explores your mouth slowly, tongue sweeping between your lips and tracing every curve and ridge he can–almost like he’s trying to commit you to memory.

There are universes in the depths of his dark eyes. He may not say exactly what he’s thinking, but you can see it playing out in those baby browns of his. There’s something simmering underneath the surface–something more than just lust or desire.

Something dangerous.

You tug him closer and cup his face in your hands, enjoying the gentle scratch of morning stubble underneath your palms. He surges forward and presses you into the pillows as he settles himself comfortably between your spread legs. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs through kisses scattered along the length of your jaw.

You know you probably look like you got run over by a bus–you toss and turn in your sleep, and it always leaves your hair a matted mess. And that’s not even mentioning the slight tremble in your thighs, left over from Marcus’s enthusiastic attention last night. But there’s so much sincerity in his voice; you don’t think he would waste his breath saying it if he didn’t mean it, and that fact alone makes your heart pound with desire.

There’s a syrupy slowness to the way he moves down your body, lips leaving behind heavy wet kisses as he works down your chest and over your stomach.

And it’s almost like he senses the protest working its way up your throat when you feel his hot breath on your thighs, because he looks up at you and there’s sternness in his gaze. You got your fill last night, and now it’s his turn.

“May I?” He looks up at you from the apex of your thighs with big, round puppy eyes that are impossible to refuse–so you nod eagerly and don’t even try.

If you were eager to have him in your mouth last night, he’s desperate.

There’s no hesitation, no build-up. It’s almost aggressive, the way he buries his face in your heat. He laps like a dog at a bowl, hips canting into the mattress involuntarily as your taste floods his mouth.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he growls into your sopping cunt. “You taste incredible.”

You keen at the praise and card your fingers through his hair, tugging slightly at the damp, spiky strands when his tongue laves heavily over your sensitive clit.

Marcus’s greedy hands grip underneath your thighs and push them as far as you can comfortably spread them. You’re still so sensitive after at least three orgasms last night–you lost count after a point–and it serves to wind your nerves tighter than they’ve ever been wound before.

One hand slides to the junction of your thigh and his thumb comes to take over the pressure on your clit as his tongue plunges between your soaked folds. It’s even more overwhelming like this, and there’s not a thing in the world that you want to do more than let him have his fun. Especially when that hand and his tongue switch spots–his lips seal and suck around your clit while he presses two achingly thick fingers into your waiting entrance.

It actually makes your muscles tighten and your back rise off the bed as he curls his fingers just right to find that spot that makes you fall apart for him. 

He can tell you’re getting close–he’s already so intune with the way your muscles twitch, the change of pitch in your moans. You whine and cry for him the tighter he winds the rubberband, and he’s eager to make it snap.

“That’s it, pretty girl,” he says over the overwhelming flutter of his fingers scissoring and curling inside you. “Let me have it.”

You squeeze your eyes shut so tightly as pleasure wracks through your body that you can see constellations. Large hands come to pin your thighs open as his tongue keeps working, lapping and gliding against your cunt with ease as a wave of arousal gushes from your entrance.

You’ve never been so wet in your life, and he’s just getting started.

He trails open-mouthed kisses up your body as you catch your breath–his slick-soaked lips coat your skin with your own arousal as he works his way up to allow you a taste of yourself.

The first wet lick of his tongue into your mouth makes you moan. It’s not the first time you’ve tasted your own slick–you’ve had a moment or two of curiosity–but it’s never been quite as enjoyable as it is on his tongue. It pairs so perfectly with the minty tang of toothpaste left on his breath and makes you hungry for more.

He moves fluidly under your direction as you push him onto his back and roll to straddle his lap all in one graceful movement. It’s perfect like this–he doesn’t have to support his weight so he can run his big meaty hands all over every inch of you, and you can kiss him as deep as you want while you grind down on his aching length.

“Shit, baby,” he pants against your lips. Those aforementioned beefy palms grasp hard at your asscheeks to guide your hips, pulling you into a slow, long grind that bumps the head of his cock against your clit deliciously.

Your pulse thrums with desperation until you’re seeing white–no more teasing, no more preamble. You take his girth in your hand and give him a firm stroke; if you had a little more presence of mind, you might be embarrassed at how wet his dick is simply from grinding against you for a few seconds.

“Go ahead, baby, take it when you’re ready.”

He gasps at the first press of his cockhead against your entrance, head flopping back against the pillows as his hands squeeze your asscheeks with bruising force.

“Shit, you’re tight,” he murmurs, throat working around a thick gulp. “You can take it baby, I know you can. Did so good for me last night.”

You think you would honestly do anything he asks of you so long as he just keeps talking like this.

It takes a moment for you to work your way down his length–he’s so mouth-wateringly thick and the curve of his cock hits the most delicious spot inside you that you didn’t even know existed.

“Atta girl,” he praises breathlessly as your hips settle flush against his. “Just sit there for a minute. So pretty on my dick.”

God, he makes your entire body flush with heat. He turns your blood to molten lava with his words, lighting every inch of skin on fire. You’ve never felt a sensation like this–so overwhelming yet so intoxicating.

You start with slow movements as his hands trace up and down your sides sweetly–it’s more like you’re grinding on him than anything else. His thumbs rub abstract little patterns into your skin as his hands work up to your tits; when he finally takes them in the palms of his hands and squeezes all pretense of soft, sweet morning-after sex flies out the window.

You drop down hard on his cock and it nearly punches the wind out of him. 

“Yes!” He growls darkly. His eyes flash with something dangerous–it’s the only warning you get before his hand slaps the meat of your ass and grabs a greedy handful. “Just like that baby, use my fuckin’ dick.”

And maybe, if he was someone else, you wouldn’t be nearly as eager to follow instructions. But with Marcus, you’re nothing if not obedient.

Last night was exploration and discovery–hours into the early morning spent learning each other’s bodies, finding what makes the other squirm and whine and beg. This morning is in perfect juxtaposition to that sweet, soft, probing sex–you know what drives each other crazy now, and you each use it to your advantage. Aggressively.

He surges up to suck a pert nipple into his mouth as you set a hard pace on him, long fingers pressing into your skin hard enough to leave marks. He lands another sharp smack to your ass when your thighs start to shake–a reward for using his cock exactly how he asked.

”M-Marcus—”

”I know, sweetheart,” he purrs through a guttural moan. He cants his hips up to meet your thrusts at just the right moment—he hits something so devastatingly pleasurable that your vision prickles white around the edges. “I know, it’s so much, isn’t it? It’s okay, you can let go. Come for me.”

There’s a condescending note to his voice that only makes you squeeze harder around his cock, and within seconds you’re hurtling uncontrollably into ecstasy.

He fucks you through the telltale fluttering of your cunt even when your hips stop moving; strong hands hold you in place and work you through the ebbing waves of pleasure that wrack through your entire body.

”M’so close, honey,” he grunts with a particularly sharp thrust upward. One hand comes up to cradle your jaw in his hand, forcing your eyes to meet his. “Where do you want me?”

”I-inside,” you gasp. “Come inside me, Marcus.”

He fills you as soon as he has your instruction—hard thrusts punctuated by breathy moans as he pumps you full of his release.

There’s a long, silent moment where Marcus pulls your bare chest tightly against his own and you pant into the crook of his neck while trying desperately to even-out your breathing. His fingertips dance across your skin-feather-light, soothing.

The sun is higher in the sky now and meets your eyes with blinding rays through the balcony shutters when they finally open again.

”That was amazing, honey,” he murmurs into the crown of your head. He’s caught his own breath now, but he doesn’t make any attempt to let you go. “How’re you so perfect?”

”M’not perfect,” you mumble into his shoulder; but even to your own ears, it sounds half-hearted. The truth is, he’s so earnestly honest that you believe him.

He hums his dissent with a kiss pressed to your hairline. ”You are to me.”

And you so desperately want to believe him that you don’t even try to argue.

You bask in this warm, lovely afterglow for a few moments longer before Marcus gently taps your hip. ”Come on, sweetheart. Let’s get cleaned up and I’ll buy you breakfast.”

You pull off of his softened cock with a whine and try not to get worked up all over again at the feeling of his cum leaking down your thighs. ”Th-there’s a free continental breakfast downstairs.”

”Oh, then I’ll definitely pick up the tab,” he jokes with a smirk—all you want to do is kiss his goofy, stupidly handsome face.

He pulls you into the bathroom and starts the water running to fill the tub—he’s never really been a bath guy, but your legs are a little too shaky to endure a shower. He’s so attentive—from running a damp cloth between your legs to helping lower you into the water. He doesn’t complain in the slightest when you catch his hand and ask him to join you; he just shuffles you forward and slides in behind you like it’s a casual act that he performs with every hookup.

It’s intimate. That’s really the only way to describe it. You sit between his spread legs, back to his chest, head rested back against his shoulder while his fingers ghost idle paths over your skin. You don’t talk; you don’t really need to. Somehow, you fit together like souls who have known each other for years. Like all you’ve been missing is each other.

You drift off in his arms as he traces soap over all the curves and ridge of your body, the steady beat of his heart thumping in your ear.

It breaks his heart a little bit to wake you—the fact that you’re so comfortable with him, that you trust him with such vulnerability, makes his head spin a little bit. But the water’s turning cold, and the last thing he wants is for you to come down sick or something.

He rouses you with gentle, feathery kisses scattered over your rosy-scented shoulders and neck.

”Mmm… what time is it?” You grumble, pressing your sleep-addled face further into the crook of his neck.

”Just after noon,” he whispers into your hair after glancing up at the clock on the wall.

He can feel the way your mouth shifts into a pout. “Shit. We missed breakfast.”

The adorable downward tilt of your frown as you lift your dad to look at him makes his heart flutter. “Let’s go out, then. The first farmer’s market of the season is going on downtown. I’m sure we can find something good for brunch.”

”Kinda sounds like you’re asking me on a date,” you hum with a slight smirk dancing at your lips.

”Maybe I am.” His tone is light, his meaning clear—he knows this goes beyond a one-night stand, and there’s no harm done if you’re not wanting to cross this boundary. He’d understand not wanting to get too serious about someone who lives thousands of miles away from your home, of course. He’d never blame you.

You give him your best appraising look, staring deep into those constellation-filled brown eyes. ”You’re not sick of me yet?”

”I have a feeling I couldn’t get sick of you if I tried.” There’s nothing but sincerity in his tone, in his eyes. He genuinely wants to spend time with you, even if there’s nowhere for this to really go.

You hum thoughtfully. “I do love farmer’s markets.”

You’re with Marcus more often than not over the course of the next week.

He takes you sightseeing to some of his favorite spots around Austin, brings you to his favorite restaurants, shows you his favorite movies. But he multitasks—while teaching you about himself, he learns as much as he can about you and picks activities he knows you’ll love, too. 

He’s a pragmatist; he knows your time together is short, and he wants to make himself unforgettable. If he never sees you again, he wants you to think about him every once in a while and look back on this time fondly.

You spend your days while Marcus is at work painting or drawing or lingering around the gallery, and you fall asleep in his arms every night. With shades of gray moonlight and candlelight cast over your hotel room, it almost feels like this could go on forever.

He tells you to wear something nice before he picks you up on the last night–he wants to celebrate in style, which starts with reservations at an up-scale restaurant. 

He’s so achingly handsome. He’s in a matching gray suit over a white button-up, top two buttons undone and no tie to be seen. His face bears the slightest five o’clock shadow and your eyes gravitate to the curve of his lips–the instant smile that takes over his face when those gorgeous brown eyes of his land on you.

If you never see him again, this is exactly how you want to remember him.

“Wow,” he whispers reverently. “You look amazing.”

It’s not the most impressive dress you own, but he looks at you like you’re wearing something worth millions–like you’re worth millions.

You lean up and kiss him, and everything feels right. His hands rest on your waist and it’s so easy to pretend that you won’t be on the other side of the country twenty-four hours from now.

The restaurant is beautiful. Dimly lit and romantic, tables spaced enough to give you some privacy. He takes your hand on top of the table and holds it the entire meal. The conversation is light and airy–you’re both stubbornly dancing around what really needs to be said.

Dessert is cleared and the wine bottle is empty by the time Marcus finally works up the courage to acknowledge the elephant in the room.

“I don’t want you to go.”

You knew this would be coming, but it doesn’t make it any easier. You avert your gaze, instead focusing on his large hand wrapped around yours and the windshield wiper motion of his thumb tracing back and forth over your palm. No one’s touch has ever sent such electric tingles through your nervous system the way his does.

You don’t know what to say, so you say nothing at all.

“Look, I…” He takes a deep breath and straightens his spine a little bit, hand leaving yours to gently cup your chin. He forces you to look him in the eyes as he breaks your heart. “I think this could really be something, if we gave it a shot.”

You haven’t lied to him yet, and you don’t plan to start now. “I… I think it could, too. If I didn’t have to go back.”

“Don’t go back then.” There’s a firmness to his voice, but it couldn’t be any more obvious that he’s begging if he actually got down on his knees. “Stay here with me. We’ll figure this out. Just… don’t go.”

And here–with his earnest eyes on yours and his gentle, loving touch on your skin–it’s easy to pretend that it’s that simple.

He takes you back to your hotel room and sheds you easily out of your dress. As cliche as it sounds, it’s not just sex this time. Things that it’s too early to say are buried deep within every kiss, every thrust. He hooks your legs over his shoulders and looks deeply into your eyes while he fills you and you’ve never felt so overwhelmingly connected.

The thud of his heartbeat is insistent in your ear as you come down from your high–so calming, so heartbreaking. You lay on his chest while his breathing evens out and soak up these last few moments of bliss. And then, once you’re sure he’s sound asleep, you carefully worm out of his grip. There’s one more thing you have to do before you go back to New York.

Loud, insistent ringing pulls Marcus from the depths of sleep. He tries to ignore it and go back to sleep, but now that his senses are alert, the sound in combination with bright Saturday morning sunlight won’t allow him the luxury. He presses his face deeper into the pillow that he’s somehow wound himself around in his sleep, but that damned ringing won’t stop.

He sits up slowly and tries to rub the sleep from his eyes–and that’s when he notices the empty sheets next to him. Your side of the bed is long cold, and he knows. Before he even sees the note on the dresser and your room key next to it, he knows you’re gone.

He finds his trousers discarded halfway between the bed and the door and pulls his blaring phone out of the pocket.

“The gallery got hit sometime early this morning. They took everything. Every goddamn piece. You need to get here now.”

His body moves on autopilot as he pulls yesterday’s clothes back on, fingers numb to all sensation as they work to button his shirt. This can’t be happening. It can’t be you.

He notices the note on the dresser as he’s threading his belt through the loops of his trousers, and his gut twists with a sickening sense of foreboding.

I really did fall for you, Marcus. But nothing good starts in a getaway car.

He’s not sure if you knew who he was the whole time and this whole thing was calculated, or if you just got lucky. He doesn’t want to believe you’re that cunning and cruel. He wants to believe that this is just a misunderstanding, that you’re out for ice or something and you’ll walk back through the door at any moment.

But you don’t.

The note is enough of a confession for him. He’ll have the power of the FBI on his side to find you–and he will find you. What he’ll do when he does, he’s not sure. He guesses he’ll know when he sees you.

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#marcus pike #marcus pike x reader #marcus pike smut #marcus pike fanfiction #marcus pike one shot #marcus pike x you #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #the mentalist #the mentalist fanfiction #the mentalist one shot #cece writes

[jpbpxma]

hi, this is a new writing blog for pedro pascal & his characters. I have many ideas of my own to post but I'm also accepting requests for scenarios, specific characters of his you'd like to see written or just anything really, even if it's just to talk so shoot me an ask :)<3

(yes the picture is a way to bring your attention to this post)

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal drabble #pedro pascal x reader #javier peña #joel miller #pedro pascal one shot #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal writing #pedro pascal angst #dave york #marcus pike #javi gutierrez #dieter bravo #lucien flores #oberyn martell #the mandalorian #din djarin #shane dio morrissey #narcos smut #tlou smut #the last of us smut #maxwell lord #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal headcanon #requests

[faithiegirl01]

Am I the only one that when I hear the name Pike in anything… and I mean anything… I immediately think of our boy Marcus?

Like every single time… please say I’m not the only one who does this 😂

#jose pedro balmaceda pascal #pedro pascal one shot #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #charles gillespie #marcus pike #marcus pike x reader #pedro pascal imagines #pedro pascal fluff #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal characters

[toomanystoriessolittletime]

okay, Din Djarin. Let's see what you'll find in the living waters of Mandalore. (I mean I know what he finds, but you don't hehehehe)

#this months challenge is finish the Mando story #and the Pero titanic story #and... probably random Joel Miller one shots #stay tunes for Officer Marcus Pike next week though #it's a filthy one

[janaispunk]

28 "No one ever cared about me like you." for Joel or Marcus Pike, please?? Thank you for writing all this amazing stuff for us <3

no one can hurt you now

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

word count: ~1.2k

summary: You’ve been traveling through the country with Joel and Ellie. After finally arriving in the safety of Jackson, you realize how much Joel means to you.

tags/warnings: post outbreak, mentions of infected, fighting and blood, reader doesn’t value her life that much tbh, angst, anxiety, comfort, able-bodied reader, no use of y/n (please let me know if i missed something <3)

a/n: dearest anon, thank you so much for your kind words and for sending this prompt in! this started out as a drabble but got out of control, so i hope you enjoy this little fic 🫶🏻

dividers by @saradika-graphics who is amazing <3

full masterlist here / follow @janaispunknotifs and turn on notifications for fic updates!

The clicker’s teeth snap at you inches away from your face, your arms straining desperately to hold the creature off. A shot rings through the air and the clicker stills as blood splatters across your face.

You push the now lifeless weight off of you and try to stand back up, your shaky legs underneath you barely cooperating.

“Thanks,” you mutter, gasping for breath.

“The fuck was that?” Joel barks, the gun still grasped so tightly in his hand that his knuckles are turning white.

“It was- running at Ellie, I just-“

You’ll admit that you hadn’t really thought it through when you lunged at the clicker that had charged in the girl’s direction without any weapons in your hands. Not her, had been the only clear thought in your head. She wasn’t replaceable.

You were.

“You just what? Thought you’d get yourself killed?”

“No! I don’t know, okay? I still bought us time, and you got it, so-”

You don’t like the way he’s glaring at you, like you did something fundamentally wrong. You took a risk, yes, but his main objective is taking the girl across the country. You’re just… there.

“So?! Fuckin’ stupid, is what it was,” he snaps before he turns around abruptly and stomps further into the abandoned house that you’re hoping to spend the night in. You wait until your legs finally stop trembling before you follow him.

It’s the middle of the night when Joel finally speaks to you again. You had settled down in one of the bedrooms on the upper floor, not before searching the house extra thoroughly after the clicker incident earlier.

You can hear Ellie’s soft snores from across the room and you would have sworn that Joel was asleep too. Your mind didn’t rest, replaying the scene over and over, the way Joel snapped at you making your chest hurt each time.

“You don’t get to not make yourself a priority, you hear me? I won’t let you.”

You flinch at the unexpected sound from his corner of the room, but his voice is gentle, like he’s approaching a scared animal.

“But Ellie-” you still try to protest.

“I care about Ellie just as much as you do.” He hesitates for a second. “But I also care about you.”

You feel heat flushing your cheeks and you avert your gaze, even though it’s too dark for him to see your face anyway.

“You shouldn’t,” you mutter, “she’s the one that matters.”

“So do you,” he grumbles.

“Not like her.”

He heaves a sigh and you hear him moving closer to you in the darkness.

“Listen to me.” His tone is gruff, but you can feel the intensity behind his words. “I couldn’t- shit, I couldn’t do this alone. Just take care of yourself. Don’t be stupid. Okay?”

“Okay,” you agree in a hushed voice.

You know that this is the closest that Joel Miller will ever get to admitting that he doesn’t hate you. You try to fight the feeling, but warmth is spreading through your chest at the thought that he actually wants you around, that he’s not just letting you tag along because he doesn’t know what else to do with you.

It’s your first real night in Jackson, the first time that you’ve arrived at a place and didn’t immediately make plans on where to go next. The first night that you’re spending in a real bed in god knows how long. The first night that you don’t have to sleep with one eye open, always waiting for the next danger to find you.

And the first night in a bed with Joel. Neither of you had protested when you were assigned to one house with him and Ellie. You know what Joel and you look like, from the outside. You don’t think that you care, not really.

The house has three bedrooms anyway, so it didn’t matter. At least that’s what you thought, until you had all said good night to each other and you were lying alone in the darkness, wide eyes staring up at the dark ceiling, as you were trying to stop the anxious shivers running through your body.

It was too quiet, the mattress too soft, the room too… empty. You had gotten used to the steady breathing of two other people around you, and now that they weren’t in the room with you, everything felt wrong. What if you woke up tomorrow to find them both dead, to find yourself alone in the world once more? How were you supposed to make sure they were safe when you weren’t with them?

Before you could overthink it, you got up, checked on Ellie who was sleeping soundly and padded over to the room Joel was in.

“Can’t sleep?” his low drawl had greeted you as soon as you cracked the door open.

You wordlessly shook your head and he sighed.

“Me neither. Doesn’t feel right like this, does it?”

That’s how you ended up under the covers next to him. No touching of course, both of you keeping a firm distance. This was just so you could both catch some sleep. Just for tonight.

Except that you’re still not able to let sleep drag you under. Your body is tense, acutely aware of his presence next to you, his body heat easily traveling the short distance between you. You could bridge it just as easily, just reach your hand out to - do what, exactly?

You huff out a breath and turn onto your side, shuffling the sheets with your movement.

“What’s wrong?”

His voice is barely above a whisper and before you can open your mouth to respond, his fingers find your face and graze over your cheek in a barely there contact.

He had touched you before, of course, checking you for injuries, soothing you with a hand on your arm or a brush over your hair, but never like this. Never in the darkness of the night and never when you could sense the tension in the air between you, could almost feel his breath on your face. You have never been so acutely aware of the warmth of his fingers that’s seeping into your skin right now.

“I just- I never thanked you for taking me here, for taking care of me.”

It’s not what’s on the forefront of your mind, not the thing that’s plaguing you in this moment, but it’s still true, and much easier than admitting to him that feeling his body so close right next to yours has you practically burning up, has your fingers itching to touch him, to breathe him in.

Joel hums.

“You don’t have to. Of course I did that.”

You try swallowing the lump that suddenly builds in your throat.

“No one ever cared about me like you,” you admit in a whisper.

“Hey,” Joel mumbles, alarmed at the thickness of unshed tears in your voice, “come here, sweetheart.”

Both of his arms reach towards you and his hands splay over your shoulders to pull you into his chest. His warmth engulfs you and you feel the tension in your body subsiding as you’re resting your head over his steady heartbeat.

“We’re safe now,” he whispers into your hair. “I’ll always keep you safe.”

if you liked this, please consider leaving a comment or reblogging - nothing would make me happier 🤍

#janas fics #joel miller x reader #pedro pascal #joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller angst #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #Pedro pascal characters fanfiction #pedrostories

[creedslove]

RE-ENCOUNTER 🎨

Marcus Pike x f!reader

"I'd rather get divorced while still loving you, than remaining together and risking to hate you"

Summary: you and Marcus had a brief but loving marriage, until it wasn't anymore. Choosing an amicable divorce you both moved on with your lives until destiny made you run into each other once more, with a difference this time: your ex-husband was engaged now

Warnings: mentions of divorce, a little bit of angst, fluff, some jealousy, age gap (their ages are not specified but he's 10 years older than her)

A/N: besties, I'm so happy I finally managed to write something for our husband Pike. I've always wanted to do so, but I knew I couldn't just force myself into it otherwise it wouldn't work properly, and just like that, this idea came up and I couldn't get it out of my mind ❤️ also, I know some people don't like age gap, but I can't imagine reader being Marcus age mostly because reader is me 🥴 and also because it would make sense to the story, so although it's not specified, I pictured them getting married around early 20s(reader) early 30s (Pike) and running into each other again around late 20s/early 30s (reader) and late 30s/early 40s (Pike)

3.9k words

You weren't fond of getting married young, to you, it sounded nothing like madness, as you simply couldn't wrap your head around the fact that people often abdicated from their lives, plans and dreams to get stuck in a relationship. It made no sense to you, especially since you had been working your ass off during all your years in college, the prospect of having a successful and promising career motivated you to go after your dreams. Relationships, marriages, building up families hadn't crossed your mind at all, a little affair with a cute guy here and there were the only things that ever got remotely close to dating, at the same time you only saw yourself as someone who wouldn't settle down.

And that was before Marcus Pike walked into your life.

If someone asked you to explain what exactly happened, perhaps you wouldn't be able to understand it yourself let alone explain it to someone, but that man swept you off your feet. You'd met him during a history of art lecture at campus one Thursday evening. He had just joined the FBI in the art department, fresh in his new job but still assisting his former professor and mentor in college lectures. He was probably ten or so years older than you, and yet, you couldn't keep your eyes off him. He was by far the most handsome man you'd seen in those four long years you'd spent in that institution, there was something so captivating in his beautiful eyes, his breathtaking smile and how smart and sweet he was towards anyone. And he caught you staring; it seemed you took his attention as much as he took yours, and even if you needed that lecture for extra credit, you couldn't give a single crap about medieval art, because that man was everything you could see in front of you. That was so unlike your personality, usually, you'd be focused on everything else, but you simply couldn't look away from that handsome assistant.

When the lecture was finally over, you were sure you'd missed at least half of it, being too busy concentrating on someone else instead of the subject, you still had a few doubts about the matter and you walked to the stage, willing to ask the professor some questions and clarify any doubts you had, and that was the moment you both locked eyes for the first time. The handsome guy that caught your attention, whose name was Marcus, soon found out the moment you shook hands and realized how big his was compared to yours and how truly handsome he was, even more so than you had already noticed when you were a few meters away. He was also mesmerized by you and he couldn't hide it, he knew you were younger than him, but at that moment all he could process was how gorgeous and smart that girl was in front of him. He kept around while you talked to his mentor, being polite enough not to interrupt him but holding himself back so he wouldn't add his own comments. He just wanted an excuse to talk to you, see if he could approach and see where things could go, so the moment he had the opportunity to be with you alone for a while, he immediately threw his charms - and Marcus was a charming guy - in your first conversation you liked how intelligent and nice he was, he made you laugh and when he invited you to have pancakes some dinner nearby the campus, you couldn't say no.

And that was the beginning of your love story.

Everything you believed went through the roof from the moment you met Marcus. He was incredible, the most fascinating man you'd met and whereas he was older than you, that only seemed to spice things up both in the sexual and emotional sense. You had never been treated like that before, he made you feel like a queen, as cheesy as it may sound, that's just how you felt through your relationship with Marcus. He was a gentleman, sweet and he didn't know what to do in order to please you; he went slowly at first, even if his intentions were clear from the very first time you went out to eat, he was a little afraid you would be weirded out by him, and he couldn't be further from the truth. Each time he took you out on a date, it felt like you were living the plot of any sweet but cliche rom com movie. It felt just too good to be true and a part of you feared that it wouldn't work. But it did, for as long as it lasted.

The dates with Marcus were so special, he was thoughtful and he always made sure to take you somewhere nice; it was either a nice restaurant so you could get to know their different menu, or art galleries in which he would show you his favorite works and tell you as much as you wanted to hear about them. He was always afraid of boring you with his subjects but on the contrary, you always enjoyed listening to him talk, it was entertaining, soothing and you could spend hours watching how his eyes sparkled whenever he addressed anything he truly enjoyed. And even if he put some effort into them, your favorite date by far was whenever you two would spend some time just hanging out together in his apartment. Dim lights, old movies on TV and Marcus' protective grip around your body, always pulling you closer and making sure you were warm in his embrace for the rest of the night.

The first kiss you shared with him after you both went to the movies together. It was a classic movie rerun and even if Casablanca wasn't your favorite, you knew he enjoyed it, and seeing it on a big screen was definitely a nice experience. Besides, he promised you that once Titanic hit the theaters in the next classic session, he would definitely take you.

At the end of the movie, you walked out the theater holding hands, you were silent, but instead of reflecting over the story you'd just watched you reflected over your relationship with Marcus; you were falling deeper and deeper for him, deeper and more intensely than you ever thought you would, and when he stopped and placed your hands on your hips you couldn't resist being kissed by him.

It felt right.

The first night you both spent together was right after he took you to see the concert of his former band; he'd left the band when he graduated from college, but he still remained friends with the guys and eventually enjoyed visiting them on stage. And that night he insisted on taking his bass for a last ride and even risked a song on the microphone, all of that for you.

By then, there was no fighting or convincing otherwise, you were head over heels for Marcus; especially when you two had sex for the first time after that. One could think Marcus is too soft, but not when it comes to that; he knows how to act, how to please and how to demand what he wants and after you tried him, a real man, there was no way you could go back to college boys ever again.

Your relationship evolved fast and in less than a year he proposed to you; he was sure you were what he wanted in the future, just as you had thrown away all your beliefs and you'd surrounded yourself completely to the man you loved, so you said yes. Even if your whole life you said you wouldn't get married, not while young at least, not without having a consistent, successful career.

And there you were, fresh out of college, with very little work experience, a job in an area you didn't want but had to take in order to gather experience and knowledge and walking down the aisle in a white dress, feeling as happy as you could be, in order to become Mrs.Pike. The honeymoon had to be in Paris, a few people told you that couldn't be more cliche, and even if they meant it out of spite or if they were actually right, it didn't really matter to you; it felt so right for the two of you. Surrounded by art constantly during the day and making love at night, it was like a dream coming true, and you remember hoping your entire marriage would be like that: light, fun, full of love and happiness. And it was until it wasn't anymore.

You couldn't tell exactly when things started to go downhill, but if you had to guess, it would probably be due to the lack of time you both faced towards the end of your relationship. It just started getting harder after about a year, when the two of you really began struggling for your own careers. You, in your area, and Marcus with the FBI, it seemed to have become an obsession for you both, as date nights, walks in the park and gallery visitations simply stopped happening in order to focus on your extra tasks, overtime, solving cases. At some point it became a looping of excuses and promises to spend more time together:

"We'll go next weekend honey"

"We can have dinner together tomorrow"

"I promise I'll take you with me next time"

Needless to say, they never truly happened.

Just as you two distanced yourselves without even realizing, the bickering also started, adding another venomous sting to your relationship. Suddenly, small things turned into bigger ones, sources of stress and fights; if someone ever told you one day you'd have heated arguments with Marcus over a dropped sock, or an unwashed plate on the sink, you would call them crazy, but when that unfortunately happened to the two of you, you were shocked for a while, not believing you had become the kind of couple to argue over stupid things like those. It was heartbreaking. As you two barely had time for each other, sex was also off the table most nights, being too tired to do anything else other than sleep, Marcus suddenly came up with the idea of having a baby; he had a deep hope of fixing your marriage by getting you pregnant, after all, having kids had always been part of his plan and he was sure it was part of yours too.

At the same time you hadn't really thought it through. Technically, you had. You wanted kids. At some point, in the future, it wasn't rocket science to figure that adding a baby to a troubled marriage could not be the best idea. And yet, you couldn't bring yourself to tell him that, not when you saw the spike of excitement in his eyes, not when he held you and kissed you like in the beginning of your relationship, how he made time for you even if his FBI work was killing him, he still managed to bring you flowers, kiss you and made love to you. Perhaps he was trying to save your marriage, or he was just trying for the baby, you weren't so sure, but you could see the effort. And it was why it broke your heart to know you couldn't get pregnant at that moment, not with your job finally taking you places, the new opportunity of actually building a career and how young you still thought you were, being married was hard, but it was about you and Marcus, two adults who could handle yourselves but a baby? It was way too much responsibility. You couldn't find a way to tell him that, even if you were being a coward, it pained you you felt so hopeless to simply lie to Marcus and tell him you'd stopped taking your birth control pills, and even more so each time he looked at you with those disappointed, sad eyes, month after month of excitement and longing for that baby to be there, just to get a negative test after another. It was eating you up alive and after his insistence on taking you to a doctor - which you immediately refused - he managed to find your hidden stash of pills among your stuff. You tried explaining everything to him; how you weren't ready, you were scared and how broken you'd been at seeing him so upset. You cried, you opened your heart to Marcus and told him you wanted to be a mom to his child, some day, not at that moment, but in the future because things were finally working for the two of you once more. But you had lied to your husband, and lying to Marcus had no turning back.

He had no other option other than asking for a divorce after you lied and broke his heart, he felt upset, he could've forgiven you for many things, but not for playing with his heart when it came to the kids he dreamed of every single day.

You were tired, upset and at some point during your divorce process you'd convinced yourself you didn't love him anymore, but the reality was that you were just so empty you weren't able to feel things, you were numb.

The day you both signed the divorce papers in front of your lawyer and you were questioned whether you two wanted to go ahead with that decision, your heart shattered into a million pieces, more than any fights, when you heard Marcus' justification to why he was asking for the divorce.

"I'd rather get divorced while still loving you, than remaining together and risking to hate you"

When you heard those words, you had a sudden urge to get up and tear those papers into pieces, tell him you were both making a huge mistake, that toyover him and that you could make it work, you wanted to tell him you still had a beautiful future ahead of you, you and the gorgeous family you would have together. And the moment you took a deep breath to finally say all that out loud, you looked at Marcus signing the papers and officializing the divorce.

That was the last time you saw your ex-husband Marcus Pike, you just had no idea the next time you would run into him again would be in a few years later, while he was taking his new fiancee on a date.

•••

Marcus sighed as he could see the lack of excitement in Teresa's face the moment they got to the exhibit, he just didn't know why she agreed to go out with him if she didn't like it, it would be so much easier for the two of them if she was honest and told him she'd rather stay home and read a magazine, that way they would both be happy, and Marcus wouldn't have the feeling he was trying too hard all the time. Teresa liked him, she must have liked him, otherwise she wouldn't have accepted his proposal and moved to DC with him. It was still early, she'd been there for a few weeks but he was confident things would work. He was hitting his forties now, one divorce, no kids and even if he finally got the position he had not only dreamed of but also worked so hard for in his dream job, he still felt something was missing. It took him a failed marriage to realize that money wasn't everything he needed, he simply missed the family he never had.

When he found Teresa he was still trying to pick the pieces of his heart, still trying to make things work on his own and when he saw her - an attractive, mature and intelligent woman, he thought that maybe he wouldn't be alone this time. You'd been the love of his life, he was convinced of that, but you two had gone way too fast and too intense, you were still young, you had so much to live so it made sense to him he would let you go and be free. He vowed himself not to rush into things, but this time it wasn't his choice, he was liking Teresa more and more and even if they weren't compatible most of the time, but when the opportunity of a lifetime came up he had to take his chances and she'd said yes. Still a little unsure and divided between him and Jane, but she said yes.

As they walked through the exhibit, he paid close attention to all the beautiful paintings scattered around the long hallways. He loved that atmosphere, the pictures so beautifully made by talented hands years or sometimes centuries ago.

"So it's just flowers?!" Teresa broke the silence as she looked around unimpressed and dragged his attention back to reality

"It's not just flowers, it's Monet… don't you like it? You told me you liked his paintings on our first date.." Marcus stated confused until the realization that she was just lying so she wouldn't appear ignorant or perhaps try to impress him a little. He saw how she cleared her throat and tried fixing what she just said but he stopped listening the moment he caught a glimpse of someone else crossing the same room and standing next to Rouen Cathedral, admiring it intently. He didn't even need to look twice to know it was you. You, who always loved that painting, even if it wasn't Monet's best in your ex-husband's opinion, you who had a fascination with old constructions such as cathedrals and would always snap several pictures of them, you, who was never exceptional at art but managed to get by and eventually fell more and more in love with art because of Marcus, not because you wanted to impress him or have him thinking you were smart, but because he actually made you see why he had that passion for it. And the moment that you turned around, his heart skipped a beat.

You looked the same, and yet, you also managed to look even more beautiful; more mature, more confident in yourself and for a brief moment Marcus was frozen in time, it was just like the first time he saw you, in which he could only see you in front of him and nothing else. He had no idea you still had that effect on him, it was so unusual and surprising and even if he had stalked your social media profiles here and there over the course of your separation, even if he wasn't proud of it, it was completely different than seeing you right there in front of him. He wasn't sure what to do, should he approach you? Talk to you? Pretend he didn't see you?

However, he didn't time to think any further about it, not when you turned around and spotted him, your eyes widening at the moment you saw him. Much to your surprise your heart also raced at the sight of your ex-husband. Was it your mind playing tricks or was he even more handsome? You hadn't planned on approaching him, but you felt as if you were being taken involuntarily towards him.

"Marcus?! Hi!" You said with a sweet smile as he politely greeted you, expressing how surprised he was to see you and even more so to actually talk to you

"Wow, you look great… So beautiful" he smiled as you blushed softly and giggled

"You too, still very handsome… so what brings you to D-" you interrupted by a woman who walked in and wrapped her arm around his waist. She eyed you up and down, even if she still tried to be polite and discreet about it. You swallowed hard feeling awkward and Marcus turned to the other woman

"This is Teresa, my fiancee and this is my ex-wife" he cleared his throat as he said your name and Teresa simply nodded her head. You returned the gesture and the moment you meant to ask him a question she barged in

"You're his ex-wife? But you're so young…" you could see the light pink spreading through his cheek and groaned at how dumb she really was.

"Yeah, I'm younger than him… and are you a little older than Marcus?" You returned the sting with the same amount of poison and she scoffed, looking at him and groaned

"I'll go to the restroom" she said without looking into your eyes and walked away, making you chuckle as Marcus shot you a questioning look which you just shrugged and went back to the question that was lingering on your mind

"So, what are you doing here in DC? Having a romantic getaway or vacations?"

"Actually, I've moved here after I was promoted to the head of the new art department" he said with his typical smile and you could see how his eyes crinkled, your heart warming up as you expressed genuine surprise and happiness to know that. You were a witness to how hard he had worked for that and it just filled your heart with pride to know he made it. You weren't sure how to act, perhaps it wasn't right, but you had already wrapped your arms around his neck and given him probably the tightest hug you'd ever done. Even if it was brief, you couldn't help but feel how built up he was, how stronger he'd become and his characteristic scent made you so warm on the inside, it felt like you could've stayed forever in his embrace.

"I'm so happy for you, Marcus! Honestly, you deserve it! I know I haven't been the most supportive wife and I'm very sorry about everything that happened, I should've been nicer to you, but well, all I'm trying to say is that I'm so proud of you!"

You said wholeheartedly and even if there were so many other things you needed to tell him, you knew it wasn't the right time and place. He just smiled and nodded, taking your hands into his big ones and thanking you for the support.

"Do you think we could grab a coffee or something? Just catch up?"

"I'd love to, but I don't know if it's a good idea, I mean, I can tell Teresa isn't my biggest fan and being honest with you, I wouldn't like my fiance's ex-wife around very much, but it's amazing to see you Marcus, truly, it makes me glad to know you are somewhat closer" you smiled again but let go of his hands the moment Teresa returned. Once more she just lingered around him, almost territorial as if she wanted to show you who owned Marcus. He also felt that, and it made him quite uncomfortable, so he cleared his throat and looked at you, saying goodbye and explaining they had dinner reservations.

As you watched them both leave, you felt a pang in your chest, thinking of the wonderful place he was probably taking her, the elaborate dates he had planned, the beautiful family they would probably build together. It could've been you, it was you for a while, unlike he might have thought you wanted all that with him, but it took you a divorce to realize it was a situation of the right person, wrong time. Perhaps if you tried again, it would work, you would like it to work, but Marcus had moved on, found himself someone he cared about and you had no right to break his heart and ruin his happiness once more.

____

A/N: my besties, I really hope you enjoyed it! I don't know if this is just a one-shot or if there'll be a continuation but I am so happy how this turned out. I love Marcus and I'm so happy our handsome FBI boyfriend finally got his own piece here! ❤️ remember that feedback is life, I'd love to hear what you all thought of it ❤️

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal one shot #pedro pascal imagine #marcus pike #marcus pike x reader #marcus pike x you #marcus pike x y/n #marcus pike fanfiction #marcus pike fanfic #marcus pike imagine #marcus pike one shot

[morallyinept]

B O D I E S - A Collection of Pedro Boy & Real Body Reader One Shots - Masterlist

A collection of softly smutty Pedro Boy stories, featuring real bodies and real love... 🧡

Adoration - Joel Miller - Cancer/Masectomy

Reverence - Ezra - Limb Loss

Devotion - Dieter Bravo - Curvy/fuller Body

Homage - Javi Gutierrez - Blindness

Veneration - Frankie Morales - Deafness

Adulation - Marcus Pike - Alopecia

Respect - Dave York - Wheelchair User/MS

Devoutness - Marcus Moreno - Mature 60+

Glorification - Jack Daniels - Pregnancy

Exaltation - Javier Peña - Scarring/Burns

Sanctification - Joel Miller - Vaginismus

Benediction - Frankie Morales - Scoliosis

Acclamation - Marcus Pike - Walking Aid

Piety - Dieter Bravo - Paraplegia

Obeisance - Joel Miller - Fibromyalgia

🖤

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal x reader #joel miller #javier peña #dieter bravo #frankie morales #ezra prospect #dave york #marcus pike #javier gutierrez #marcus moreno #real bodies #inclusivity #diversity #every body is beautiful #jett's writing

[fuckyeahpedropascal]

Pedro boys colour matrix

*Click for higher resolution

• Masterlist •

This has been on my to-do list for ages and it’s taken even longer to make. I’m so happy with how it turned out! Which is your favourite colour on our Pedro boys? Any look you would've put in the matrix instead?

Commentary below the cut.

Related posts:

Pedro boys fashion matrix

Pedro boys hair matrix

Pedro boys facial hair matrix

Red

Javier, Bro Pedro, Mr. Ben, Javi G, Mario

Three of the red looks came from SNL, and I'm not complaining. I am especially feral for Mr. Ben's red sweater look, he looks broad AF in it. Javier of course rocks several red shirts in the series, but this one with the arms crossed is iconic.

Yellow

Oberyn, Javi G, Javier, Frankie

Personally, yellow is probably my favourite colour on P. He just carries it so gorgeously - the marigold yellow on Javi G and Oberyn's sun robes are literally the golden standard.

Green

Javier, Dieter, Dave, Joel

We need more green in P's wardrobe! His emerald green velvet suit on Jimmy Fallon took my breath away, and I lament the fact that we don't see this colour often enough on him. I hope Joel's green plaid shirt is just the beginning.

Blue

Javi G, Jack, Dave, Mr. Ben, Marcus Moreno

Wardrobe loves putting this man in a blue office shirt. For something different, I adore Javi G's pale blue suit, and of course - Jack's iconic snowsuit.

Pink and purple

Meemaw, Javier, Frankie, Dieter

We 👏🏼 need 👏🏼 more of these two colours on P! While he’s worn quite a lot of pink IRL, his characters are a bit behind the curve. This man owns these colours, fingers crossed we’ll be blessed with more pinks and purples soon!

White

Charlie, Max Lord, Javier, Marcus Pike

I was a bit annoyed to find out that we didn't actually get a frontal shot of P in the white t-shirt in the Sia music video, so had to improvise with a two Javier looks (yet again). I do love this man in a white shirt without a tie almost as much as in a simple white t-shirt. And also hospital scrubs.

Gray

Veracruz, Din, Frankie, Marcus Pike, Zach

I know, I know, Din's beskar is silver but it had to go somewhere. I do love this man in a gray round neck t-shirt, we get him in three!

Black

Dave, Dio, Nico, Javier, Marcus Moreno

Ngl, Dave's assassin look sends me... this man looks so sleek in black. As bizarre as Nico is, the black turtleneck is such a classic and he looks so good in it!

P.S. We need more purple on P! There was unfortunately not enough material for one row and my OCD didn’t let me put in an incomplete row 🤷🏻‍♀️ Shoutout to Javier's violet shirt and Dieter's washed out purple tshirt!

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal cinematic universe #pedro pascal snl #narcos #javier pena #javier peña #game of thrones #oberyn martell #triple frontier #frankie morales #tuwomt #javi gutierrez #kingsman golden circle #agent whiskey #jack whiskey daniels #the mandalorian #din djarin #marcus pike #marcus moreno

[avastrasposts]

A Baker's Dozen

Series Master List

A collection of fun and fluffy one shots set in the same bakery. Twelve Pedro boys, twelve stories, twelve recipes.

Part One - Dieter Bravo

Part Two - Din Djarin

Part Three - Joel Miller

Part Four - Oberyn Martell

Part Five - Ezra

Part Six - Javier Peña

Part Seven - Marcus Pike

Part Eight - Jack Daniels

Part Nine - Pero Tovar

Part Ten - Javi Gutierrez

Part Eleven - Dave York

Part Twelve - Frankie Morales

Part Thirteen - Frankie Morales returns

Bonus chapters:

Part Fourteen- Ezra returns

Part Fifteen - Pero returns

A Sourdough TedTalk (not a fic, just me indulging in my favourite type of bread)

#a bakers dozen #pedrostories #dieter bravo #din djarin #joel miller #oberyn martell #prospect ezra #javier peña #marcus pike #jack Daniels #pero tovar #frankie morales #javi gutierrez #dave york

[frannyzooey]

Din Djarin x f!reader, Western AU

Rating: Explicit (COMPLETED)

Summary: Set in a brothel in the late 1800’s in the Wild West, you’ve only been working there for a month when Din Djarin shows up. A bounty hunter who makes stops into town between jobs, he is known at the inn for his generous appetite and demanding preferences. Asking for you one night, he is pleased to learn you are well suited for him: your sweet nature soothing to his gruff temperament and surprising him with your ability to handle his rougher tastes. Demanding that you be made available to him every time he is in town, neither one of you is ready for where this request leads.

Chapters:

The Beginning

The Kid

The Surprise

Drabble: The Union Suit

The Hill

Drabble: The Henhouse

The Lesson

Drabble: The Rope

The Rope, Part II

The Night Trip

Interlude: US Marshal Marcus Pike

The Camping Trip

The Confession

Drabble: The Worship Service

Interlude: Oil Baron Maxwell Lord

Interlude: Ranch Owner Jack Daniels

The Demand

Interlude: Pioneer Francisco Morales

The Kerchief

The Mark

Drabble: The Exploration

Drabble: The Letter

The Ask

The Hour

The Crest

The End

One Shots:

The Hayloft

The Night

The Bath

Bound

The Morning

TMTC Art

Western Din Djarin

The Union Suit

TMTC Din

TMTC Din, II

TMTC Din, III

TMTC Din, IV

TMTC Din, V

Din and The Kid

Din and The Kid, II

Take Me To Church story gifset

Moodboard

Moodboard II

Moodboard III

Moodboard IV

Din and Girl

Din in the bath

Love Letter to TMTC

Gracie

Gracie II

Gracie III

The Ending

TMTC Comic

TMTC Drabbles

Drabble Masterlist

Tags:

#tmtc inspo

#tmtc ask

#tmtc art

#tmtc drabble

#din djarin #din djarin/you #din djarin/reader #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian/you #the mandalorian/reader #pedro pascal character #pedro pascal character fanfiction #the mandalorian

[katareyoudrilling]

The Sweepstakes Series Masterlist (Porn Star AU)

Series Summary: A collection of standalone one-shots featuring various Pedro boys. A popular porn site runs a contest for viewers to win a night with their favorite porn star.

Series Rating: Explicit (18+ only, NO MINORS)

Marcus Pike, Epilogue

Dave York, Epilogue

Frankie Morales, Epilogue

Javi Gutierrez

- - - - - - - - - - -

Main Masterlist

Taglist - Link in bio or send me a message!

#the sweepstakes #marcus pike #dave york #pedro pascal character #frankie morales #javi gutierrez

[lionlena]

☆MASTERLIST☆

Pedro Pascal

One Shot:

♡A kitchen disaster

♡Just let it go…

♡New job, new problems...

♡Just breathe

Series:

♡His Curls - Part 1, Part 2, Part 3 (completed)

♡Hate run, love speed - Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4 (in progress)

♡We don’t love each other - Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7 - Final (completed)

Request:

♡A perfect day for a perfect girl (It's your birthday and Pedro makes you feel loved and special all day)

Headcanon:

♡What sleeping position do they most like when you are with them? (Pedro Pascal characters)💤

♡How will they react to your makeup? (Pedro Pascal and his characters) 👁️👄💅

♡Headcanon: How do they behave when you have a migraine? (Pedro Pascal characters)🩹😴   (+ Dave and Marcus)

♡Headcanon: How will they react if you tell them about CDD? (Pedro Pascal characters) 👰💔😱🤕  

♡Headcanon: Who will be ready to kill for you? From most willing to least... (Pedro Pascal characters) 🔪💀☠️🩸

♡Headcanon: How do they cook for you? (Pedro Pascal characters) 🥕🧑‍🍳🍓

Joel Miller

One Shot:

♡This is just a nightmare… (The Last of Us ff/ Joel/Ellie)

♡Strong for both of us

♡Trouble with ex

♡Dyeing your hair…

Series:

♡Unforgivable mistake, Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7 Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12 (in progress)

♡I can't be everywhere (No outbreak!) Part 1 , Part 2, Part 3, Part 4... (in progress)

Request:

♡You need a better place (Joel loving a girl with epilepsy)

♡Blue dress (Joel Miller x plus size!reader)

Headcanon:

♡When Joel goes limp… (JoelMillerxf!reader)🤷🍆🩹

Javier Peña

One Shot:

♡I’ll protect you… (bc you’re mine)

♡I’ll hurt you… ( bc you’re mine )

♡I’ll leave you (bc youre not mine)

♡I'll stay with you... ( bc I love you)

♡You’re hot…

♡A girl from the street

Series:

♡Dancing With Your Ghost - Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV, Part V, Part VI, Part VII, Part VIII, Part IX, Part X, Part XI, Part XII, Epilogue (completed)

♡Too many shadows behind you - Part 1, Part 2, Part 3,  Part 4, Part 5 (in progress)

Headcanon:

♡Nicotine (JavierPeña and You)

Agent Whiskey (Jack Daniels)

Series:

♡Dynasty - Part 1, Part 2, (in progress)

One Shot:

♡Mean (JackDanielsxf!reader)

Javi Gutierrez

One Shot:

♡Too hot

Frankie Morales

One Shot:

♡Lost cat

Marcus Pike

One Shot: 

♡"7.44 am"

Oberyn Martell

Series:

♡Red Viper and Fox - Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4 (in progress, soon english version)

One Shot:

♡♕Queen's Milk

♡I Hold You

♡Remember me… (ANGST!)

The Old Guard (movie)

One Shot: 

♡ Amira

♡ It hurts like hell    

#masterlist #my fanfiction #my wriring #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader #javier pena x reader #joel miller #narcos #the last of us #the game of thrones #oberyn martell #the old guard #Immortal husbands #joe and nicky #joel and ellie #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller and you #tlou fic #pedro pascal headcanon #pedro pascal characters #agent peña #agent whiskey #agent whiskey fanfiction #jack daniels fanfiction #jack daniels x reader #kingsman the golden circle #javi gutierrez #javi g x reader