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supernaturalgirl20 · 2 years

Note

Hi! Hope you’re ok 😚

Just read your last fic with Marcus and I thought I’d send an ask 👉🏼👈🏼

Ok, so, to tie in with Valentines coming up, I was thinking maybe the office has some sort of ‘secret admirer’ event type thingy, no names on cards or gifts? 🤔

Marcus gets a card, or gift, off reader, he thinks it’s someone else at first, reader sees this and obviously is upset, but then he figures it out and it’s all fluffy... maybe smutty (if you want) happy ever after for them both 😁

Thanks Char, you said best gurl 🥰😋

Chloe thank you for this 🙏 I’m in love with this idea,I needed some inspo for this sweet marshmallow. Hope you enjoy ☺️

Secret Valentine

Pairings: Marcus Pike x f!reader

Warnings: Smut 18+, explicit, unprotected sex, PinV sex, oral (female receiving), fluff, mutual pining, misunderstanding, flirting, small bit of angst if you squint.

A/N: I loved writing this so if anyone wants me to write something for valentines please ask away 😊 also I need to point out the lingerie in this are crotch less 😈

Comments and reblogs really appreciated 🥰

Nervous butterflies fluttered in your stomach as you made your way towards Laura’s desk, brown bag in hand. You hoped he liked what you got him. Even though he wouldn’t know it was from you. That was after all the whole point of the secret Valentine tradition. It was your first year to take part, never having liked anyone enough before. That changed a year ago. Marcus arrived from Texas to head the art crime squad and you were lucky enough to work alongside him. He was handsome with his tousled brown locks and those brown doe eyes, but it was his sweet, caring attitude that drew you in.

Laura’s face lights up as you approach her, a knowing smile on her face. “I didn’t think you’d do it. It’s about damn time, I’m sick to death of watching you pine for him.”

“Well I figured now was my shot to see if things could go further than friendship.”

“You do remember its anonymous right?”

“Yeah I know, but you and I both know that Marcus will want to find out who it is, especially after everything with Theresa. I just hope he likes it.”

“He will. Now you know how this works! Tonight when almost everyone is gone Jason and I will deliver the cards and gifts, that way it’s a nice surprise for people in the morning.”

“Yeah, that’s perfect.”

***

Arriving to work the following morning coffees in hand you make your way towards Marcus’s office knowing he’s already buried deep in paperwork. Taking a deep breath you knock on his door before opening it a fraction to find him rummaging through the gift bag you left. Not that he knows that.

“Morning, what’s that?” you say as you hand him his coffee.

“Hey thank you, I really needed that this morning.” He takes a few sips before he gestures towards the bag. “Came in today to find this on my desk; one of those secret valentines.”

“Oh! Any idea who it’s from?” you say with a slight nervous edge to your voice. Taking a sip of coffee hoping he didn’t notice.

“Not yet, but I intend to find out. Whoever it is, I’ll kiss them. I mean there’s a pancake mix with all the toppings, that whiskey I like and tickets to the new art gallery showcase next week.”

“Wow! They must be in love.” You can’t help the smile that spreads over your face at his excitement. “Well I’ll leave you to it. I hope you find her.”

“Me too, she could be the one.”

Your heart began to beat erratically within your chest at his statement. You so badly want him to be the one.

***

Your day was busy, paperwork to be filled out and leads to follow, all the while you waited in anticipation for Marcus to walk through your door, smile on his face declaring his love for you. Highly unlikely you thought as the clock ticked by with no sign of him. Lunch rolled round and you felt deflated. He hadn’t figured it out. You think back on your time with him, had you not been obvious in your flirtations? You knew he didn’t want to date when he first arrived; his heart was shattered after Theresa left him for Patrick Jane, but now, his heart was mended and dating didn’t seem hopeless. Or so he said.

Grabbing your bag you make your way out into the bullpen, eyes searching for Marcus but you can’t see him anywhere. Deciding to go to his office you turn the corner and your heart sinks at the sight before you. Marcus is standing by Jessica’s desk, flirting. Jessica has always been that girl you just could never click with. With her blonde hair done to her ass, make up always done to perfection, nothing out of place and not a brain cell in sight, not that matters to guys, they don’t care about that. Standing there looking at the man you’ve come to love flirting with her, has a new found hatred flowing through your veins. A tear rolls down your cheek and you quickly wipe it away, you can’t watch this anymore. Turning to leave, you bump into Laura and she looks at you, confusion written all over her face.

“Hey Y/N are you ok? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing...it’s nothing I promise. I just…I’m not feeling too well I think I’ll head home will you let Henry know please.” You try to leave but she stops you.

“Hey, come on tell me what’s wrong. Do you want to grab a coffee maybe?”

“Yeah ok, thanks.”

***

You grab a table as Laura gets the coffee, and you sit staring out the window, regret seeping into your veins. Maybe this was for the best. Maybe he isn’t your one and this is the universe telling you to move on.

“One regular cappuccino and a chocolate muffin.”

“Thanks Laura your the best.”

“So you going to tell me what has you looking so glum?”

“It’s Marcus…he…well I caught him flirting with Jessica. I think he thinks she gave him the present. I mean she doesn’t even know him that well how would it be her.”

Jessica looks at you now with sympathy in her eyes, her hand reaching across the table for yours.

“Hey he’s an idiot then if he think that it her. Honestly I’m surprised he didn’t give you something, I was half expecting him yesterday but then he didn’t show.”

“What do you mean?”

“You really don’t know?”

“Know what?”

“Y/N that man is in love with you, it’s written all over his face whenever he sees you.”

You scoff pulling your hand back and sipping on your cappuccino. “I doubt that. We both know he isn’t shy about how he feels, he would have told me if he liked me. I mean we practically spend every weekend together, he would have said something.”

“Don’t be so sure, I mean he did have his heart shattered by Theresa. Maybe he doesn’t want to be so open about love now, it would make sense. You said so yourself you spend all your free time together maybe he is afraid you don’t feel the same.”

“I’m always flirting with him.”

Laura just shrugs her shoulders and digs into the croissant she bought. You let out a long sigh. There was no point dwelling on this you needed to move on. You chat a little more and then you stand to leave.

“I’m going to head home. Thanks for being a shoulder to cry on.”

“I’m always here you know that. I’ll tell Henry you had a bug or something, go home and eat some chocolate and drink some wine.”

Waving goodbye you make your way to the supermarket, you’re going to need supplies if you’re going to drown in sorrow for the night.

***

Laura is startled when Marcus appears out of nowhere. “Jesus! You almost killed me with a heart attack.” Her hand is on her heart as she moves around him to head out of the copier room. “What can I help you with?”

“Have you seen Y/N? I went to her office for lunch but she’s not there and her things are gone.”

“Oh yeah she went home for the rest of the day, wasn’t feeling well. Why?”

“Oh…uh..” Marcus’s hand moves behind his head, the other resting on his chest. His cheeks had a small pink tinge and Laura tried not to smirk at his obvious nervousness.

“Did you hear she got a gorgeous bunch of roses today? Apparently there from Dave down in the crimes unit.”

“She did? Did she like them? How did she seem? I didn’t think..”

Laura couldn’t help it now as the sly smile spread over her face. “I’m joking. She got nothing today which is a shame really any guy would be lucky to have her.”

“Yeah I know.”

“Hmm, you say something?”

“No! Is she ok?”

“Look I don’t normally get involved in peoples business but I can’t take much more of the live sick glances you both send each other and yet do nothing about.”

Marcus neck and face were red now as he laughed nervously. “What…I don’t know…”

“Oh cut the shit Marcus, I know you know who sent you that gift bag so let’s not pretend otherwise. Why were you flirting with Jessica?”

“What? I wasn’t…I mean I thought she had sent it, she had said something and it lead me to believe she had but I tried to get it out of her and she was clueless. Which isn’t a surprise really but then I thought, hoped it was Y/N. That’s why I want to find her.”

“Can I ask why you didn’t send her a gift? Hell even a card?”

“I have a gift for her, I just…I chickened out last minute. What if I ruin what we have? I can’t lose her so if she’s only in my life as a friend I’ll settle for that.”

“She loves you, you idiot.”

“What?” She does?!”

“Yes! Now what are you going to do because she saw you with Jessica and thought you liked her.”

“I wasn’t flirting with her I swear, I love Y/N.” He stops talking, realisation hitting him. Laura just stands there smiling at him like a Cheshire Cat.

“Is that why she went home?”

“Yeah so you need to go to her and fix this, just remember to thank me in your wedding speech,” she says winking at him before she heads back to her desk. Marcus practically runs back to his office to grab his coat and car keys. He was going to make this up to you. He was going to show you he loved you.

***

You had a glass of wine in your hand as you twisted and turned, looking at yourself in the floor length mirror. The red lace felt soft against your skin, what a shame no one was going to see it. You’d come home and done your hair and make up in an attempt to make yourself feel better. A knock at your door startles you and you almost spill the wine.

“Shit,” you said as you frantically grab your silk robe before making your way towards the door. Opening it slowly as you try to wrap the tie around your waist you fail to see the lust in Marcus’s eyes as he takes you in.

“Marcus! Hey what…what are you doing here?”

“I…I came to….god your beautiful.”

“What?”

“Y/N I need to tell you something, I can’t keep this in anymore.”

“Ok, do you want to come in?”

“Thanks,” he says as he walks past you into your living room, placing the bags he brought in the coffee table. He turns to you as you follow him and his eyes roam over your figure and he licks his lips.

“You said you had something to tell me!”

He nods his head as you pull the robe a little tighter.

“I know it was you! The gift I mean.” He slowly steps closer with each word he speaks. “I knew straight away but then that little voice in my head told me there was no way a women as beautiful and kind as you liked me like that.”

He’s standing right in front of you now, you can feel the heat from his body. His eyes are staring at you like you hang the stars in the sky. His hand comes towards your face moving a piece of hair behind your ear.

“I loved it by the way, the gift. I have one for you too. I wanted to give it in the secret valentine but I second guessed myself.” His eyes are now focused on your lips and you bite your bottom one between your teeth.

“Yeah?”

“Hmm. I love you Y/N. Honestly I’ve loved you for a while.”

“You do?” He nods his head as his arm wraps around your waist pulling you closer. “So much.” His thumb strokes your cheek gently as he leans down and closes the distance between your lips. His are slightly chapped but you don’t care, he’s actually kissing you. His tongue licks along your bottom lip begging for entrance. When you open your mouth to allow him in, your tongues fight for dominance. You pull at his lip with your teeth and he groans into your mouth. He pulls away slightly breathing ragged as he rests his forehead against yours.

“I need you baby.”

“Hmm. Then take me Marcus. I’m yours.”

He lifts you up by the ass and carries you to your bedroom before gently laying you on the bed. He stands at the edge of the bed eyes boring into you.

“Open the robe baby.” You gulp loudly at his tone and a pool of slick gathers at your core.

“Did you not hear me baby, I said open your robe, now.” You fumble with the tie loosening it to reveal the red lace lingerie you had purchased.

“Fuck baby your so goddamn beautiful,” he practically growls as he starts to strip, his clothes landing in a pile in the floor. Your robe joins his clothes as your hand reaches behind you to unhook your bra.

“No! Leave it on baby.” His eyes are blown wide in lust as he crawls his way up the bed towards you. His lips pepper kisses along your leg up towards your thigh and a shiver runs through you as he inches closer to your aching pussy. He smiles at your reaction licking a strip through your folds.

“Oh fuck…Marcus.”

“Hmm,” he says as he devours your cunt like a man starved. You run your fingers through his hair and when he sucks on your clit hard you tug on it causing him to moan into your cunt.

“So good..Marcus I’m…I’m….”

“Let go baby I got you.” That was all you needed to push you over the edge as you come hard coating his tongue in your juices. He moves up your flushed body, kissing as he goes until he flush against you. He looks you in the eye, love and adoration shining through. “I love you.”

“I love you too Marc…ooh,” you gasp as he slowly pushes inside you, hips thrust until he’s buried deep. His head falls to you chest as he calm himself.

“Fuck baby….so…so tight. I just…I need a minute.” You run your fingers along his back and he shivers at your touch. He begins to move his hips slowly at first wanting to savour this moment, but then your wrap your legs around his ass and gasp out, “Marcus please…harder.”

“Oh fuck baby..”

He moves back into his knees pulling you with him as he thrusts hard up into you. His hands wrapped tight around you.

“Oh god Marcus I’m..I’m gonna…again.”

“Come baby….come all over my cock. Ngh so fucking beautiful.”

You do come again, hard, and as your cunt clenches around his cock he groans into your neck. He pumps himself into twice more before he comes with a loud grunt, coating your womb in his seed. He falls back onto the bed pulling you with him.

“Shit baby I never asked…I….I just came inside…I…”

“It’s ok Marcus I’m in the pill. Even if I wasn’t would it really matter.”

“Want my baby do you?”

Yo nod your head and reach up to cup his cheek as your lips meet in a passionate kiss. “I want it all with you Marcus. The whole nine yards.”

“I want that too, fuck baby I love you so much. I’m sorry again about today…” You place your finger on his lips quieting him.

“Let’s forget it ok, start fresh from right now.” He nods at you with a huge smile on his face.

“Staring with you heating up that take out you brought, I’m starving.” You both laugh and he kisses you again before he hops out of bed to grab the food. You sit up in bed watching him leave, eyes focused on his firm ass. A smile spreads over your face, you’ll have to thank Laura tomorrow.

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#pedro pascal #marcus pike #marcus pike x female reader #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x female reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #the mentalist fanfiction #marcus pike x reader #valentine

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ickleronniekinsemotionalrange · 3 years

Text

someone new

pairing: Marcus Pike x gn!reader (no y/n)

word count: 2.4k

tw: heartbreak, pining, idiots in love, food?

summary: Marcus Pike one shot based on Someone New by Hozier.

A/N: this piece of crap took me MONTHS to finish just because i wasn’t motivated. though i thought the idea was cute, it proved to be harder to write than originally planned. anyway, i’m sorry. i want to thank my dear sweet big sis @green-socks who helped me with this and frankly, just get me through life altogether hehe. i love you, you know how much and what this means to me. 🥺

thank you so much for reading!

to say that the phone call Marcus received that friday evening was not what he had hoped for would be an understatement.

“i can’t marry you” and “i’m in love with him” are the last words someone wants to hear when their fiancée is calling them, the same day she accepted to marry them.

Marcus is speechless. in the wrong way. he can’t believe it has happened yet again, another failed relationship, another woman who was in love with some other guy. tears swell in his eyes and he runs his hands through is hair, try to calm himself down somehow. he goes to the door of his new office and silently closes it before any of his new coworkers can see him have a breakdown.

“Marcus, are you there?” Lisbon says, sounding exasperated.

he chuckles humorlessly; he’s the one that’s exasperated? how dares she, she the one leaving him and his broken heart. he finally answers.

“yeah, unlike you, i am here,” he says, his voice full of hurt and venom.

“Marcus don’t make this difficult, please. i thought you’d understand,” she says, still exasperated. not a hint of sadness or regret in her voice.

he wants to ask her how this is fair to him, how he could be expected to “understand” when he did nothing but open his heart to her, let her in his world, see his soul. but he knows better than to ask stupid questions that would get him stupid answers.

“i won’t,” he says curtly. “have a nice life Teresa. tell Jane i wish him luck,” he adds, his voice serene. he hangs up.

he knows that both what he did and what he said was petty, but wasn’t she being petty by toying with his heart to make Jane jealous?

he sighs and closes his eyes, sitting on the blue carpeted floor of his spacious office. he covers his face and decides to head home. after all, today was only about getting to know both his new coworkers and workspace, and he could tell his boss he had to head home to get settled in. only the moment Marcus’s feet reached the end of the bed, all he could do was fall face first and cry himself to sleep, still fully clothed in his work attire.

and so another journey began for Marcus Pike, picking up the pieces of his shattered heart little by little.

another unpleasant phone call comes in, seven months later.

he deleted her number as soon as their last chat was done. so when he sees an unknown number flash on his screen, he doesn’t hesitate to pick up, too engrossed in the case he and his team were working on.

“Pike,” he answers absentmindedly.

“i see you still greet people on the phone the same way, Marcus,” a feminine voice says on the other side of the line. “though i liked it better when you greeted me with baby” Marcus hears the smile in her voice.

he stops dead in his tracks and gestures for his coworkers to continue, walking away. he doesn’t have to ask who it is -- he had only called two people that, and one of them was happily re-married and they hadn’t spoken in years. so that on the phone could only be…

“Lisbon,” he states.

“the one and only,” she says, confidence clear as day in her voice.

Marcus rolls his eyes and steps into his office, eager to end the conversation but not particularly keen on being heard by others.

“right, listen, i don’t want to be rude here, but why are you calling?” he asks and exhales.

this wasn’t the Marcus she had known back then, not as charming, not as sweet, not as kind, at least not with her.

there’s a pause on her side. she notices all those changes and when she speaks again, the confidence in her voice falters.

“oh, uhm, i’m in DC.” she waited for him to speak but when he didn’t, she kept on going, “i was wondering if you wanted to grab a drink this week.”

“no thanks, i’m busy this week,” he said coolly.

another pause.

“next week maybe? I’m here the entire month,” she said, hopeful.

Marcus sighed. even though she deserved it, he really didn’t want to be rude.

“can’t,” he said again, giving no further explanation.

“why, you moved on already?” she scoffs, fully expecting Marcus to deny it, to tell her he was still in love with her.

he sighed, again. that gave her the answer she was looking for.

there was only silence, and then…

“you’re lying, you can’t possibly be with someone already!” she all but screamed.

Go and take this the wrong way

You knew who i was with every step that i ran to you.

Marcus truly hadn’t meant to tell Teresa about his perfect stranger. he hoped he wouldn’t have to talk to his ex-fiancée ever again. and he never hoped he’d meet someone new so quickly, or even at all. but one can’t escape their destiny.

and so, one day, he entered a bookshop, looking for a new copy of Pride and Prejudice, after hearing that his friend had lost the copy Marcus had lent him. (he had been looking for an excuse to buy a new one, with a new pretty cover, so he was kind of delighted by the news). he was wandering through the aisles of books, softly and carefully caressing the spines with his fingers, admiring the pretty colors, the names, the titles. he was so distracted and mesmerized, he bumped into something, well, someone. nobody landed on their rears, but even before lifting his head, Marcus was already apologizing profusely and far louder than it was allowed, which got him shushed by the librarian.

“sorry!” he whispered-yelled, looking back at them quickly before his eyes landed back on the person he just accidentally bumped into.

you giggled softly, running your left hand on your body, straightening your clothes. your eyes hadn’t met his yet, so you weren’t aware of his eyes drinking you in, lingering how your hair gave you this aura of an angel, the way your other hand held the books safely.

“i’m terribly sorry, i wasn’t looking,” you say, finally looking him in the eyes, a shy smile dancing on your lips.

the first thought that rushed through Marcus’s head was also an accusation towards himself.

‘don’t be ridiculous, meet-cutes like these only happen in movies’

and then

‘plus, you know you’re not meant for love, ask anyone’

he sighed, his shoulders sagging, which made you wonder if you had said something to upset him. you knew better than to press someone into talking, especially if it was a complete stranger. he said nothing more, and you knew how to take a hint.

you casted your eyes downwards before speaking, “i’m sorry, i’ll be more careful”.

but Marcus being Marcus was torn between listening to his heart or his brain, and you speaking again was the fuel he needed to shut his brain off and listen to his stupid heart, yet again.

“please don’t apologize, it was totally my fault. are you ok?” he asked gently, his eyes again on you, checking for any sign of pain.

confused by his behavior, you look up at him again and give him a somewhat puzzled look.

“yeah, fine, thank you,” you say, confusion still in your voice.

it’s now his turn to wonder if he had upset you. you notice the puppy dog eyes he’s giving you and you have to laugh at his cuteness.

“nothing broken,” you speak again, trying to lighten up the mood.

he chuckles. “good to know”

it truly wasn’t his fault; his heart had a stronger voice than his will to stay out of trouble. nothing wrong with being a love-fool, just the way he was, and Teresa knew that.

Only blue or black days

Electing strange perfections in any stranger i choose

nothing more happened the day he met you. no names exchanged, no numbers, just shy smiles, and the rapid beatings of his fragile heart.

he went back to the bookstore a couple more times to see if he could find you there, but he had no such luck.

the days that followed your encounter, Marcus could think about nothing else but you. every time he got home and saw his new copy of Pride and Prejudice in his bookshelf, he couldn’t help but think of you. he smiled to himself. couldn’t help but think he had been a bit of a mr Darcy to you that day, shy and speechless before your beauty.

his mind started to form this perfect picture of you, thinking about what your coffee order might be or if you were enjoying the books you bought.

alas, he would have to wait some more to see you again.

Would things be easier if there was a right way?

Honey there is no right way.

he started to wonder if he would ever see you again and if you thought about him at all.

a month went by with no new encounters with your beautiful face, Marcus was starting to lose hope.

“stupid heart,” he muttered to himself one night, coming back from work and seeing the book on the shelf.

he really wanted to look for you, but he refrained from it because, 1. he didn’t know a thing about you and 2. that would make him a stalker.

so he gave up on looking for you. he was a big time destiny believer so if you were meant to be together, fate would bring you together.

And so i fall in love just a little, oh, a little bit

Every day with someone new

unbeknownst to him, you were also going to the bookstore once a week to see if he was there -- no such luck for you either. (it wasn’t weird you weren’t finding each other; he was going on wednesdays and thursdays and you were going on fridays).

you also thought about him constantly, if he liked Jane or Georgiana more, if he drank his tea with sugar or if he thought about the day at the bookstore. you regretted not asking for his name.

what a pair of idiots in love.

There’s an art to life’s distraction

To somehow escape the burning wait, the art of scraping through.

fate (or mostly distraction, yet again) brought you together once more. this time it was a tea shop. it was a wednesday afternoon, Marcus was just passing by. tea was not his first choice for a warm beverage, he usually went for coffee, but this particularly cute tea shop was calling to him. DC was cold that time of the year. they had predicted snow for that night, and he knew his thin jacket wouldn’t have been enough. so he stepped into the shop, a little bell at the door welcoming him to the shop, then Victoria’s voice:

“hello! i will be right with you!” she said giving him a smile. he smiled back and nodded. he found himself yet again thinking about you.

and then he thought he was starting to go crazy, hearing your voice right in front of him. it couldn’t possibly be you, right?

“… so just the usual please Vicky,” the voice said, tiredness clear as day.

Marcus felt like he had been struck by lightning right where he stood. everything went in a flash then, you moving around until you finally turned around to sit at your favorite spot. and he knew he had to ask for your name, your number, because he couldn’t live not knowing who you were any longer.

and before he could move, or think about what he was going to say, unknown words escaped his mouth.

“Miss Benet!” he all but yelled, not knowing what to call you.

the whole tea shop turned around, looking at him quizzically. though everything was worth it when he saw the shy smile grow on your face, giggling at his attempt to get you attention.

and so his love story began again.

would things be easier if there was a right way?

honey there is no right way

so i fall in love just a little oh, a little bit

every day with someone new

soon, little conversations in tea shops and bookstores became so much more.

he learnt that you were a romantic, that your heart guided you more than your head did, just like him. however, you definitely won him over when you told him you held art very close to your heart. so you spent your time together visiting museums and going to concerts together, constantly bickering about your favorite painters (you insisted on how Van Gogh was better than Monet and the art expert would roll his eyes and laugh).

you spent almost all your free time together and his co-workers already knew you by the time Teresa called. everyone loved you, even his friends back at Sacramento who hadn’t even met you yet.

“Marcus, you there?” Teresa said, the anger had shifted to sadness in her voice.

and just like that he remembered the little time they had had together back in California.

my heart’s already sinned

and although it was crushing to lose her back then, she was the one who walked out on him and you were the one who had picked up the pieces and mended his fragile heart.

how pure, how sweet a love.

though a short moment of uncertainty clouded his mind, his decision was made. his heart belonged only to you now.

“i am and i have. i don’t mean to hurt you, Teresa, but i’m not interested in seeing you anymore,” Marcus said in a serious voice.

“but, why?” she asked again.

“listen, you made your choice all those months ago, and now i’m making mine, it is final” he spoke again, his voice as firm as it could be. he was surprised by his own words.

the silence on the line was deafening.

a beat later, he heard a knock on his door, it was probably just Grint wanting to talk about the new art thief. but it wasn’t. he turned around and was greeted by your smile, your body leaning on his crystal door, hands carrying his favorite take-out. you lift the plastic bag and dangle it raising your eyebrows.

he smiles instantly. you worry because Marcus isn’t exactly the quiet type.

“are you ok, love?” you ask stepping into his office and putting the take-out on the table.

on the phone Teresa gasps when she hears your voice. she was really hoping this ‘lovely stranger’ was made up. she was wrong. there really was someone new.

she hangs up.

Marcus turns around and gives you an easy smile, he looks utterly relieved.

“never been better”.

#marcus pike #marcus pike x reader #marcus pike x y/n #marcus pike x you #Pedro Pascal

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themand0lorian · 3 years

Note

Hi! I love you! I don’t know if you have requests open but I’m having a very rough day of being excluded from my “friends” - I was wondering if you could write a comforting and protective Marcus Pike x reader? It’s just been a very rough day of being excluded, walking home three miles in a thunderstorm, and helping in a medical emergency on the metro

Hi love! 💖so sorry to hear about your bad day. I don't technically open/close requests (I guess they’re always open but I don’t always fill them), but I did write something up quick for you below the cut--we all deserve a sweet, protective Marcus to make us feel better when things are bad! I hope your day turns around!

Not part of flufftober, just a little drabble of Marcus taking care of the reader after a rough day, detailed above!

Rating: PG

Pairing: Marcus Pike x GN!Reader (no Y/N)

Words: ~1200 (oops)

Marcus was just settling down for the night, flipping the channels to find the classic movie channel as thunder rumbles overhead when he heard your key in the lock. He hadn’t expected you for a few hours still; you were out for a night with your friends, and he took the opportunity to straighten up the house, get some things in order while you were gone. Anything to make your life easier. But it had only been an hour since you left; suspiciously, he stands from the couch, making his way to the front door.

He’s glad he did; you look utterly defeated, and when your eyes meet his, any strong façade you were keeping cracks, and you burst into tears. He’s immediately at your side, pulling you to him, letting his shirt absorb the liquid as he hums and rocks you gently, like a quiet dance. When your sobs subside, he presses a kiss to the crown of your head; your hair is soaked through with rain.

“What happened, baby?”

“I—” You heave a deep breath. “They--they were being so awful, Marcus. It was like I wasn’t even there. I know I haven’t gone out with them in a while, but it was like I was invisible.” He squeezed you tighter to him; he knew how hard it was to make and keep friends as an adult. He had been excluded so many times from Jane and Lisbon that the feeling always sucked the life from him; he wished he could take some of the pain from you. “Then they wanted to go see that new horror movie, and I hate horror movies, you know that,” you sniffle. “They didn’t even care. Just told me to leave if I was going to be ‘annoying about it.’” He hums softly, his heart breaking for you. “So I left. Like they asked.”

“How’d you get back here? I thought they picked you up.”

“They did,” you whisper. Marcus pulls back from you to look you in the face; he brushes a tear from your cheek as he furrows his brow at you. “I took the metro back. And then while I was on there, this old lady, she—” you didn’t have to finish the sentence. Marcus knew about your medical training, knew how quick you were to step up and help others. It was one of the many things he loved about you; his sweet, caring, smart partner. “I did everything I could until the ambulance came, but I don’t think—” “I’m sure you helped, sweetheart,” he coos, finally pulling you into the living room to settle on the couch. You’re still intertwined, head resting on his shoulder; you’re all cried out, but still visibly upset. “You’re a hero, baby. Every single day.” He kisses your cheek, pulling away when he realizes something. “How did you get here from the metro? It’s three miles away?”

“I walked,” you admit sheepishly.

“Baby,” he scolds, but only pulls you tighter to him; his warmth, his strength enveloping you. “It’s raining! Why did you call me?” “I didn’t want you to see me all upset,” you answer quietly.

“Baby, please—I want to know when you’re upset. I want to know when you’re happy, when you’re scared—I love you so much. I just want to help you.” You nod, murmuring an “I love you” back to him.

“I’m sorry, Marcus—” “Nope, none of that,” he scolds quickly. “C’mon. Let’s get you in a nice bath, hm? I think you still have one of those lavender bath bombs left. I’ll make some tea so you can get nice and warm, and you can put on your fuzzy pants.” You release a watery laugh; the fuzzy pants a point of contention in your relationship, as they were a clear signal you needed comfort. “Then we can watch a movie, whatever you choose, or just lay in bed. You and me.” After a moment of contemplation, you nod, and he stands with you, leading you to the bathroom. After setting up the tub, warming the water, and taking out everything you need, he leaves you to get in so he can make the tea. He chooses the Stress Relief blend, figuring you can use it. He can’t help but to glance at your abandoned phone on the kitchen counter, several messages from your so-called “friends,” who have hurt you beyond belief, lighting the screen. He grabs it with the mugs, making his way into the bathroom again.

You’ve settled in the warm water, lavender steam rising around you as you take the tea graciously. Marcus settles on the floor outside the tub, still clothed, wanting you to relax rather than think he’s looking for something else, and you catch your phone in his hand.

“They’ve texted you a few times—”

“Could you answer for me? Just—tell them I’m home.” You sigh, sinking deeper into the water. Marcus unlocks your phone, typing out the perfect message as you sip the tea; you recognize the blend, smiling for the first time all night at Marcus’ care.

“Do you wanna read it before I send it?”

“No, it’s fine,” you reply, eyes closed. Marcus locks the phone, sitting quietly with you as you relax. You almost melt into the tub, soaking until the water turns lukewarm; Marcus makes you pause before you get out, grabbing a towel from the dryer that you didn’t even see him throw in there to wrap you up. He hugs you as he wraps the towel around you, kissing your wet head before watching intently as you go through your nighttime routine. The fuzzy pants have apparently also come out of the dryer when he presents them to you, warm and staticky. By the time you’re all settled back into the couch, The Wizard of Oz plays in the background, Marcus laying on the couch with you sprawled on top of him, the comforter from your bed on top of both of you, everything intertwined.

“I love you, Marcus,” you whisper quietly. You see him starting to nod off; the perfect, selfless, caring man.

“I love you too, baby. Always,” he hums, half asleep. As the Good Witch sends Dorothy off, Marcus is fully asleep under you, his steady heartbeat warming you from the inside out. Your phone lights up with another text from a “friend,” and you’re quick to open it, hoping to avoid waking Marcus up; however, your eyes are focused on the message he sent, any words by the ones who hurt you practically disappeared as a sleepy smile crosses your lips.

This is Marcus; they are home safely with me. I hope you know that you have hurt someone who didn’t deserve it; who is full of kindness, of strength, of compassion. This house is full of love, and until you can give them the love they deserve, you are no longer welcome here. Goodnight.

TAGS: @ophelialoveshandsomemen @ksd24670 @rosiefridayrogersunday @evelynseventyr @ajeff855 @thewintersoldierswife @knowledgefulbutterfly @amneris21 @sarahjkl82-blog @hellovanessax @rebel-fanfare @tobealostwanderer @randomness501 @farfromjustordinary @outlawedmando @agirllovespancakes @pedrostories @solemnlyswearss @mandocrasis @raspberrymama @pjkimrn @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @marydjarin

#marcus pike x reader #marcus pike #marcus pike x you #marcus pike x y/n #the mentalist #the mentalist fanfiction #the mentalist fanfic #marcus pike fanfiction #marcus pike fanfic #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x y/n

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jedifarmerr · 3 years

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She’s Just Not That Into You (Marcus Pike x F!Reader)

Hello everyone!! This is my first try at fan fiction, so please give feedback! This is somewhat based on He’s Just Not That Into You, Alex and Gigi relationship (which I do not own). I have the whole story laid out, and should be around 8 to 10 chapters (if there is interest)

I do not own the mentalist or the picture above (so credit to them)

Summary: After a failed marriage, and the world’s shortest engagement, Marcus is starting to give up on love. One late night, Marcus stumbles into a diner, and meets a young waitress, with whom he develops an unlikely friendship with.

Warnings: Food, eating, mentions of heartbreak, some sadness, sad!Marcus, no use of Y/N! (If any more let me know)

Rating: M (just to be safe) 18+

Chapter 1: Diner Girl

Seeing Lisbon again had been a punch to Marcus’s gut. He thought it would give him closure, that he would feel better after seeing her. Maybe he hoped she would change her mind once she saw him. That she would be reminded of what they had. Instead, he was hit with the realization that it was really over. She had moved on, and was happy with Jane. He was just a pit stop to her final destination, it was always going to be Jane for her. He needed to accept that. He needed to move on. He just wondered what could Jane offer her that he couldn’t? When would it be his turn to finally have someone?

Since his return to D.C., he had been in a trance. His thoughts consumed him, stuck in his own self-loathing. Matthew’s voice breaks him from his thoughts reminding him of the meeting starting in a few minutes. He rubs his face, needing to pull himself together, focus on his job, he’s the leader of this department he needs to get it together. He catches his reflection on the black screen of his laptop, he examines himself noting that his eyes are tired, dark circles underneath them, and his beard really needs a trim. Marcus closes his laptop abruptly, and heads for the conference room. He just hopes this meeting is short so he can head home.

Marcus’s luck was never great, the meeting ran long, and he was starving. He missed the diners in Austin, missed his regular breakfast places. In between his office and his apartment, there were three breakfast places. He had tried two of them so far, and had been gravely disappointed by both of them. The only one left was Lucy’s Diner, and he was just hoping it was better than the last place. He was scared, and didn’t know if he could face more disappointment. How does a breakfast place mess up pancakes?

Marcus entered the diner, the small bell above the door ringing. The diner was empty, he was guessing since most people aren’t in the mood for pancakes this late at night. He hears a voice from the back telling him to sit wherever he wants. While walking towards the bar top he gazes around the room taking in his surroundings. The diner had fluorescent lights that gave a yellow tint to the dining room, the booths and seats were covered with a teal sparkly leather covering, and a jukebox was in the corner playing Elvis Pressley. Really had the classic diner look down he thought.

Marcus sits down and opens the menu, when suddenly he is hit with a memory of him with Lisbon on their first date. They had gone to a diner that had the best banana pancakes. He could remember how happy he felt that day, how she laughed at all his jokes, how beautiful she looked in that red leather booth. He could remember going home that night with the biggest smile on his face, and a feeling that she was his future. A voice breaks him from his thoughts, painfully reminded that he is here alone.

-------

You were annoyed at the sound of the small ding. You needed to study for your upcoming test, you had stretched yourself a bit thin this week. Taking extra hours at the diner to help pay for school. You check yourself in the mirror, making sure you look presentable before heading out the swinging door. Before even fully entering the dining room you start on your spiel “Welcome to Lucy’s Diner! What can I get you?” The customer jolts back a bit, startled from his own thoughts. The man’s eyes quickly dart around, lingering for a second on your name tag, then your face. He then looks down to the menu and states his order. Once he finishes, his eyes meet yours for just a few seconds, and you see that his brown eyes are glassy and have dark circles under them. He must be also having a pretty stressful week you think. You give him a quick smile before heading back to get his order in. You start a fresh pot of decaf coffee, unable to give him the stale shit that has been sitting there for hours. He looks like he has had a bad enough day.

After a few minutes you return to the man with his decaf coffee, “Freshly brewed, sir. Would you like any cream or sugar?” He shakes his head and gives you a quick thank you, while taking a sip of his coffee. The man didn’t seem in the mood to chat, so you leave him alone to sulk in his own thoughts. Not wanting to be a nuisance to the man.

When in the back room, you can’t help but peek through the little window in the door to spy on him. He looks so sad, so lost in his own mind, he looks like he can hardly hold himself together. He looks like a child lost in a supermarket, and for some reason you want to comfort him. You wonder what he is going through, was it just a bad day at work? Or was it more? Lenny breaks you from your reverie, letting you know that the order is up. When you pick it up, Lenny gives you a side glance, “I thought you had a test to study for, but seems you got something a little bit more interesting to look at then those books.” You roll your eyes at him, and turn to leave, the kitchen now full of laughter as you walk away.

Once you set the food down in front of the man, he immediately digs in. He eats like he hasn’t seen food in days, and you are honestly worried for this man’s health. You don’t want to disturb him, but you break his focus anyway to ask how it is tasting and if you can get him anything else. His mouth is full, and he meets your eyes fully for the second time that night. It seems as if the taste of the food has boosted his mood. He smiles, a real smile for the first time that night and his eyes are not as glassy, and you swear you see a glow to them. He lightly chuckles, before replying “This is fantastic. Could I get a little more coffee when you have the chance?”

You smile at him and motion to the room, “Yeah, I mean we are so busy, but I think I can do that for you.” He lets out a little giggle, while you go to get the pot from the back. You return only a minute later, and find that his plate is almost empty.

“Wow! You must have really enjoyed those pancakes!” You slap yourself internally for not being able to think of anything better to say to the man.

“These are the best pancakes I have had in a while, I have tried the other places around here” he says with a smile, “And they are nothing compared to this.”

You return his sweet smile, “I will let Lenny know you enjoyed them! I am glad you liked it.”

After that, you are met with a bit of awkward silence that you decide to break “So, are you from around here or just visiting?”

----------

He was trying to chew as fast as he could, this is the second time you have asked him a question mid-chew tonight. “Just moved here a few months ago actually, from Texas. Haven’t been able to explore too much, the new job is keeping me pretty busy.” He meets your eyes, placing one elbow on the table, giving you a small smirk “Do you have any suggestions for a newbie?”

Your face lights up as you give him a few food suggestions, some hidden gems, and a low down on the days to visit certain monuments and when to avoid them. You continue to converse about local tips, and after a few minutes he checks his watch

“I didn’t realize how late it was getting. Can I get the check? I am sure you are ready to close down.”

He senses that you are a bit disappointed with him leaving, guessing you must be bored with the lack of patrons in the establishment. You hand him the check in which he quickly pays, leaving a very generous tip.

Before reaching the door he hears your voice shout out “Hope to see you again soon!”

He turns while opening the door giving you a quick smile “I will definitely be back.”

#marcus pike #pedro pascal #marcus pike x reader #marcus pike x f!reader #the mentalist #pedro pascal fanfiction

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ladyblogger-margie · 3 years

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Jane Austen Movie Night

Pairing: Marcus Pike (The Mentalist) x GN!Reader

Summary: Hiding your feelings for your best friend Marcus Pike is difficult during your weekly movie night.

Warnings: None, just fluff.

Word Count: 1220

Prompt: “If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more”

a/n: I really liked the 2020 Emma. movie and that one line makes me swoon every time, and so does Marcus Pike.

MY MASTERLIST

Marcus opened the door mere seconds after you knocked. He smiled first at you and then at the pizza box and the six-pack of beers in your hand.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” he said to you and your heart fluttered. You ignored the faint heat in your cheeks and tried to push down the feelings you had for your best friend away and ignore them as you should.

You met FBI agent Marcus Pike at a gallery at random a couple of years ago. He was there for pleasure, not work for a change, and you had been there on a truly terrible first date. Your date was somehow both incredibly boring and incredibly condescending all at once. Marcus had swooped in to save you and correct the boring misinformation your date was spouting.

Thankfully, Marcus had pretended to be an old friend and your date didn’t put up too much of a fight about his presence. You and Marcus didn’t even notice your date had left until he was long gone. The two of you finished the tour together and have been friends ever since.

Since then, Marcus has grown to become one of your closest friends, actually your best friend. He was such an easy guy to be around. He liked the same movies you did, and was comfortable in casual and fancier situations.

Was it any surprise that you had fallen head over heels for a man this sweet?

Though you also knew him well enough to know he wasn’t perfect, but that’s how you knew for sure you guys were close - he let you see his flaws too.

He could be intense to a point where it was intimidating. His sincerity sometimes was so overwhelming it felt suffocating. He also carried with him some abandonment issues that led him to some jealousy and while that was understandable based on his history, it could also be taxing.

His unfortunate relationship history was the biggest reason you had never said anything to him about your feelings for him. He had told you numerous times that just how important to him your friendship was to him, how the stability of you in his life was something vital that he had grown dependent on. You couldn’t risk being another person who tore his life apart, not when being his friend was a true joy all its own.

So, there you were at your weekly movie night at Marcus’ apartment with pizza and beer and completely, silently in love with your best friend.

It was your turn to pick the movie this week and you were scrolling through one of his many streaming services looking for something interesting. You stopped over the latest adaptation of Emma.

“What do you think?” you asked him, gesturing to the screen.

“Jane Austen in pastels? Sounds delightful,” he replied as he handed you a beer.

“Perfect,” you replied, hitting play.

The movie started and you both dive headfirst into the pizza in front of you, not worrying about good manners at all.

Marcus scooped up the dipping sauce and leaned back to get comfortable.

“Hey!” you said, reaching out for the sauce.

“It’s not my fault you only picked up one sauce,” he explained, feigning innocence.

You scurried across the couch and huddled in close to him.

“Fine, I guess I’ll just have to hover and share,” you explained, actually thankful for the excuse to be near him. Your mouth was watering, and you were pretty sure it wasn’t just from the fresh pizza scent.

Marcus smiled softly at you before he said, “That’s just fine.”

You two worked through the pizza quickly, both leaning back with your second beers in hand. After finishing the pizza you didn’t both move back to your side of the couch, choosing instead to stay entangled with Marcus. It wasn’t the first time you had curled up with Marcus during movie night, but it was the first time it happened during a movie that wasn’t a horror film.

You watched the pastel colors dance across the screen, but felt your attention pulled more by the man next to you than the actors on the screen. Though you’ve read the book before, and this wasn’t the first film adaptation of it you’ve seen which helped you follow the story through your distraction.

Marcus clearly also had a familiarity with the material, he would laugh a second before the joke landed, or whisper a line alongside the actors on screen. He pulled you closer to him as he laughed, and the action seemed accidental and unconscious, but you didn’t point it out, afraid it would cause him to let you go.

As the film approached it’s romantic climax, you felt Marcus freeze around you. You couldn’t understand why.

On screen you heard Mr. Knightley say, “If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more,” and Marcus brushed his thumb across the exposed flesh of your forearm and your breath caught in your chest. You realized Marcus was holding his breath as you covered his hand with yours.

“I like this movie,” you said in a whisper.

“Yeah, me too,” he replied with a breathy voice.

“Austen knew something about love, huh?” was all you could think to say.

“Mr. Knightley speaks the truth,” Marcus said, his hand travelling to your waist and turning you to face him, “It would be easier to talk about feelings if they weren’t so all consuming.”

You turned into him, bringing your gaze to meet his warm brown eyes and you felt your heart racing in your chest.

“What feelings are those?” you ask him, desperate for the answer you never let yourself wish for.

He pushed his lips against yours firmly, desperate with need and a complete lack of self-restraint.

It didn’t take you any time at all to react. You threw your leg over him and straddled his waist, wrapping your hands around his neck and grabbing fistfulls of his soft, brown hair in your hands and pulling.

He broke the kiss for a moment to just look at you and positively beamed at him.

“I’m sorry, we don’t-” he started to say, but you cut him off with a kiss.

“Marcus,” you said, pulling away, “Trust me, I want this.”

He smiled at you like a man seeing the stars for the first time and pulled you back to him for another kiss. He gripped your hips so tightly it locked you in place, but that was fine by you - there was nowhere else in the world you’d rather be than sitting in his lap and kissing Marcus Pike.

The movie ended in the background, but neither of you paid any attention. Instead you spent the rest of the night holding each other, kissing, and just smiling uncontrollably.

When you started to yawn, Marcus offered you some clean, cozy pyjamas and offered to bunk out on the couch so you could take his bed.

“I don’t want to assume anything,” he said, ever the gentleman.

“Come to bed with me, Marcus,” you said, leading him to his bedroom.

Falling asleep in his arms was better than anything you could have ever imagined, and you knew it wouldn’t be the last time you spent a night like this.

Birthday Challenge Masterlist

Tags: @autumnleaves1991-blog

#marcus pike #marcus pike x gn!reader #the mentalist #pedro pascal #birthday challenge

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sarahjkl82-blog · 3 years

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Artistic Instinct Chapter 1

Header thanks to the lovely @yespolkadotkitty

Summary: Marcus Pike and OC Anushka Pierce have been selected to work on a 5 eyes (Australia, Canada, NZ, the UK and US) intelligence team to track down art forgeries as a part of taking down an international white terrorism cell. Marcus is trying to escape his broken heart, Anushka is just trying to escape what the world expects of her.

Word count: 2,595

Warnings: Language.

Pairing: Marcus Pike x reader (OC)

This comes with a MASSIVE THANK YOU to the lovely @yespolkadotkitty , who read, re-read, pointed out the constant flipping between tenses and gave me the confidence to try to write something!

This is the first thing I have written since angsty poetry as a teenager. Apologies if it is shit!

In art, as in love, instinct is enough.

Anatole France

Chapter 1:

That look crosses your face. The one that all your teachers at school said was a perfect mimicry of theirs. The one that forces grown men and women to quieten and pay attention. With your eyebrows slightly raised and a look of stop-fucking-about-and-listen in your eyes, the room grows quiet and attentive as the glow of the presentation lights up behind you.

“Have you ever wondered what makes art unique? Is it the piece of art itself or the hand that created it?” you address the latest batch of students coming through Mi5’s doors. Whilst it is highly probable that the majority of these trainee intelligence officers will not specialise in forgeries as it doesn’t quite capture the glory of fighting extremism, you only want those who truly cared to join forces with your team. Although, what team? Stephens had pretty much washed his hands of you after your latest exploits. Who knows what your new team on Monday would bring. You are too old to try and squeeze yourself into the buttoned up box that Mi5 like their agents to fit into and whilst your old team never expected you to completely toe the line, you knew where the boundaries lay. Or at least, you thought you did.

“If a perfectly painted Rembrandt or a superbly sculpted Rodin appears to be vivid as the original to the point where even an educated eye cannot spot the difference, why does authenticity matter?” you pose to the class. “The fact is, every artwork is an unparalleled expression of an individual creative talent and a result of a precise personal, historical and cultural context. Art forgeries, even if aesthetically pleasant or technically stunning, can cause serious misinterpretations with extremely damaging consequences for the art world and anti-money laundering services.” A couple of polite coughs, a not so polite yawn and a few shuffles of aching bums on their uncomfortable benches punctuate your lecture. You couldn’t blame them. This isn’t where you want to be either.

This lecture was a punishment by Stephens for your latest step out of line. He probably would have looked the other way if your paperwork had been correctly filed but it was still somewhere, half done on your quagmire of a desk. You’d love to be organised but that was for other people, who had their shit more together than you. The punishment slowly crawls to an end and the students gather their belongings and filter out of the theatre. Glad to not have any questions posed, you squeeze your eyes shut to try and rest them against the sharp light flowing from the overhead projector.

“Perhaps you missed your calling as a teacher?” a voice scoffs from the back of the room as you log out of the computer.

“Don’t be a total cockwomble,” you mutter in the direction of the voice that was now attached to a hand offering a steaming cardboard cup of black Americano.

“Oh I can see it now! Instead of teaching the ins and outs of international art crime, you could be doing finger painting and collages- your skin shimmering with a film of glitter!” Hephzi snorts into the foam of her chai latte. Your best friend from the first day of training knows how to lift your spirits with her subtle teasing and caffeine bribery.

After a gulp of coffee sets your blood caffeine level at its normal level, you poke her in the ribs before hugging her one-armedly. “Are we still on for tonight?” you ask, “I have severe cravings for halloumi fries and a massive mixed kebab while we lose ourselves in a nouvelle vague classic?”

“You truly walk a fine line between cultured intelligenzia and Friday night British food, my darling girl!” Hephzi purrs as she scoops one of your totes filled with scribbles and dog-eared books, tossing it over her shoulder, settling it next to the strap of her rucksack.

With a gentle roll of your eyes, you huff at her suggestion, threading your arm through her elbow and follow her out of the poorly lit lecture theatre towards the late afternoon gloom of a London March day.

✪✪✪✪✪

All airports are hell.

The black on yellow signs of Heathrow buzz like angry bees through Marcus’ mind after the seven hour flight from DC, the recycled aeroplane air still sitting heavy on his skin. He’d been to London many times and knew the airport like the back of his hand so his semi-zombified state isn’t an issue through the warren of staircases and corridors that make up Terminal 4. As he watches the slow, steady spin of the baggage claim, he rolls his shoulders and stretches his neck. Even despite his escape to DC, it still wasn’t quite far enough from Lisbon and Jane, the ghosts of their relationship haunting him through the hallways and offices, dreading seeing the toxic pair around the next corner.

Grabbing a small grey case, with his most treasured possessions that he didn’t want shipping over, he didn’t really look like someone who should be heading up the Five Eyes department of Art Crime. He just feels old, tired and irritated that he could just not shake the ghosts of his past.

The failed marriage.

The failed engagement.

Dressed in an old pair of jeans, a white henley and a baggy grey hoodie with suitcases rather than bags under his eyes, he looks more a middle aged, world weary man, than the sharpest American mind in art crime. As he heads towards customs, his navy passport in hand, he wonders if he’ll be pulled over again as he was in Lyon. He’d obviously matched a profile somewhere but there were certainly red faces all around when he’d got the American Embassy to ring through and explain that Marcus was exactly who he’d said he was. Fingers crossed, eh?

He needn’t have been worried. There was no price on his face today.

“Marcus Pike?” a slightly Northern, male voice asks gently.

Marcus swung out of his airport reverie, raised his eyebrows and smiled warmly in the direction of the voice.

“Andy Welbeck,” a large warm hand stretches towards Marcus, “I’m going to be your PA whilst you’re in London. I hope you don’t mind but I took the liberty to grab you a coffee- it’s a vanilla latte? I did check with the staff at your DC office as to what your preferred drink would be.”

Gripping the hand tightly, and accepting the steaming coffee, Marcus feels a wave of warmth and friendship wash over him from the handsome, young man in front of him. “This could be the beginning of a beautiful friendship!” he goofily quotes and then instantly could have facepalmed- like this twenty-something would have any idea about Marcus’ favourite film!

Andy read the man’s discomfort like a book, raising a hand to soothe his awkwardness, “Casablanca is a favourite of mine- how is a film so incredibly quotable and still has such an incredible plot?” Reaching for the handle of Marcus’ wheeled suitcase, Andy continues, “in fact to me, the only other film that manages it, albeit with less of a plot is Withnail and I.”

The tension eases from Marcus’ brown as the younger man’s ease at conversation flowed naturally as they headed to Andy’s car. “So how are you feeling about Monday? Have you had a chance to check out the team yet?” Andy questions gently.

Marcus ran a hand through his hair, trying to lift the airport-flattened curls. “I have read their files, but I was wondering if you’d give me your point of view on the ones you already know?”

“Obviously, I can fill you in on the Brit - and the Canadian, who arrived a week early and still hasn’t stopped apologising.” Andy added with an eye roll, “Harper Gleason doesn’t get in from Melbourne until tomorrow morning, Kiritopa arrives on Sunday so I shall be moving my flat from Lewisham to Heathrow arrivals gate over the next couple of days.”

“Oof!” Marcus exhales, shaking his head in sympathy, “Ouch- is there anything we can do to make it easier? We could just order cabs for them? I need you in one piece for next week!”

“That wasn’t meant in any way as a moan, Sir. It’s the perfect opportunity to make some important first impressions.” Andy delivers firmly, “So, the Canadian is sweet as fuck. She’s super bright and just needs to stop apologising for everything. Dian seems to have this way of watching and seeing the very essence of people. Her clarity of understanding people around her is incredible. She will be such an asset to the team.”

“Great! What about Anushka?” Marcus enquired as he read down the list on his emails.

Andy laughs heartily, hitting the heel of his palm against the steering wheel. “Ah Nush, Nush, Nush! Where to start with my little firecracker?”

Marcus’ eyebrows raise at this reaction and then furrow. “There’s not much in her file apart from her personal info and yet she’s been with Mi5 since leaving university almost twenty years ago?”

“Probably had to be redacted, Sir.” Andy grins lopsidedly at Marcus.

“Please don’t call me sir- Marcus only! Stephens put her forward as one of the best?”

“She most certainly is. She’s also a bit of a car crash- albeit the most endearing one there is- but I can honestly say that if she lets you in, Nush will sweep you off your feet with her brilliance.”

Marcus ruminates over this information and the photo of you attached to your file. A striking woman with almond shaped eyes, olive skin and a Cupid bow mouth stared back him with a slightly raised eyebrow as if she was daring him to disagree with her. Scratching at the scruff on his face, he wonders quite what he’d gotten himself into, heading up the art division of 5 Eyes and being based in London for at least two years.

“Here you are, Sir, I mean, Marcus. This will be your digs until you find something a little more to your taste.” Andy shifts forwards in his seat to point out Marcus’s new building- a large newly built block stretching into the sky above them. “GHCQ have rented the penthouse suite for you for six months to give you time to settle in. I live roughly five minutes in that direction so please don’t hesitate to call any time. No penthouse for me, but it’s home!”

“Thank you so much, Andy. I’m grateful for the welcome you’ve shown me. This will be a great partnership.” Marcus pats Andy’s shoulder. “Whilst I promise not to bug you too much, can we go out for a drink sometime? If you’re local, it’d be nice to have someone to introduce me to the area.”

“Marcus, I’ve already got you pencilled in for a pint on Friday- you don’t need to worry, I’ve got your back.”

✪✪✪✪✪

“Fuck. Where the ever loving fuck are my fucking keys?” You grumble as you rootle through your rucksack. Years of receipts and scraps of paper with doodles from dull meetings obstructed your view and hindered your search for those elusive metal bastards that stood between you and your comfiest jammies, your sofa and A Bout de Souffle.

“For goodness sake, woman! So glad I got my own key cut.” Hephzi shakes her head, “Out of the way.”

“If you didn’t have a key, I’d have to live on my doorstep more!” you snigger to yourself.

As she turns the key, the door needs a swift kick to open it fully. “Has your landlord still done nothing about the damp here?”

“Course not!”

“Want me to send a couple of my brothers around? Sort him out?”

“Mate, I have three useless oiks of my own I could call on for the same outcome. No point in poking the bear,” you shrug resignedly. Hephzi licks her lips as you split the food between two plates- the rice and chickpeas spilling over the side onto the surprisingly clean work tops.

“Your mum been over?”

“How can you tell?” Your eyes crease in laughter, “Genuinely, I think she believes I’m a bit broken. All my brothers married and babied up and her only daughter is living in a shitty, ex LA, messy, damp filled flat and a nameless “IT” job that she wears an invisible ring for!” Your left hand does the Single Ladies dance as Hephzi roars with laughter.

With a glass of wine and a heaped plate of food in hand, you kick some of the cushions from the sofa onto the floor. “Do you ever see yourself meeting someone or are you just too married to the job?” Hephzi pries gently, knowing that even with her closeness to you that the door could quickly slam in her face.

“Honestly?” Your eyebrows slightly raise, “I’m not sure that my mum isn’t too far from the truth. Too broken for anyone who’d I’d let get close.” Hephzi snorts. “Excuse me! I let people get close! Well, as close as I’d like them to be.”

“You’re not broken, just guarded. To be completely honest, I just think you haven’t met anyone deserving of you yet.” Hephzi reaches over and pats your thigh.

You exhale sharply and shake your head as you mutter quietly gesturing towards the cluttered flat, “No one deserves this. Now shush, I need to escape into the black and white.”

✪✪✪✪✪

Marcus shrugs his hoodie off as he enters the sparsely decorated apartment, his eyes roaming around his new home. New job. New country. How long could he keep running from his past? With a sigh and rolling up the sleeves of his Henley over gently muscled arms, he starts unpacking his suitcase.

In some of the drawers, he found some basic t-shirts, pants and hoodies with a note from Andy saying, “Just in case your luggage gets lost!” In the cupboard, there are two suits- one navy and one grey and five shirts. Perfect size, fit and style. Is there anything this man doesn’t know about him? Marcus lets out a nervous laugh- kinda seems like Andy is underused as a PA and should be put into the field!

A light filled, floor to ceiling tiled en-suite with a full sized tub and separate shower was lined with expensive smelling shower gels, shampoos and creams. Opening one, and inhaling deeply Marcus cocks an eyebrow as he enjoys the cedar, amber and rosemary scent. He is dragged back to that heady summer honeymoon he’d spent with his ex-wife in the South of France, drinking glasses of sauternes with frozen grapes keeping it cool as the air carried the scent of the lavender fields and sun warmed herbs floated on the mistral. That familiar ache returns to his chest, but perhaps it is time to lay that ghost to rest.

Marcus walks further into his discovery of the beautiful apartment. The kitchen is small but functional with two French doors that open onto a small Juliet balcony looking towards Canary Wharf and the many towers that organised all the money coming into the UK. All of the cupboards in the kitchen are stocked with a basic range of cooking ingredients and the fridge even has a few ice cold beers and a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc.

“Andy, whatever you’re being paid, it isn’t enough.” Marcus sighs and reaches for a beer, grabbing a bottle opener from the top drawer. It almost feels like it could become home.

Whatever that is.

Ok some notes:

5 Eyes is a real thing- used for sharing information about international terrorism between those countries named above.

An ex-LA home means ex local authority home. Post world war 2, Britain built a lot of social housing which Maggie Thatcher allowed in the eighties to be sold off to private buyers at a lower price to not local authority buildings. They’re not necessarily the prettiest but as the owner of an ex-LA home, they are solidly built and with a great amount of storage space!

The mistral is a strong, cold, northwesterly wind that blows from southern France into the Gulf of Lion in the northern Mediterranean

I welcome any comments, questions or just chats!

tagging: @astroboots for your perusal

@mouthymandalorian @lv7867 @songsformonkeys

#marcus pike x reader #marcus pike #pedro pascal fanfiction #josé pedro balmaceda pascal #pedro pascal characters #the mentalist

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thewayofthemandalorian · 4 years

Text

my foolish heart - chapter one

Pairing: Marcus Pike x F!Reader Rating: M Summary: You’ve been in love with your co-worker Marcus for years now. When Marcus tells you that he’s proposing to Teresa, you react badly, knowing that Teresa isn’t as invested in the relationship as Marcus is, causing the two of you to re-evalute your friendship. Months later, you show up in D.C. on transfer and must address the elephant in the room that is your feelings. Word count: 3,138 Notes: This is my first Marcus Pike fic. I really like his character and he deserved better than what he got. That said, this chapter is super angsty. I apologize in advance, and can only say that future chapters will be less angsty. Chapter warnings: Swearing, angst, fighting, the writer does not like Teresa Lisbon’s treatment of Marcus or Patrick Jane.

Taglist: @goldafterglow @frannyzooey @absurdthirst @catfishingmorales @ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa @hopelikethesun @forever-rogue @f0rever15elf @thewaythisis @marvel-and-mischief @seasonschange-butpeopledont @sin-djarin @ezrasarm @din-damn-djarin @opheliaelysia @pajamasecrets @mandohatesdroids @poenariuniverse @fioccodineveautunnale @fleetwoodmactshirts @auty-ren @profkenobi @storiesofthefandomlovers @ithinkwehitametaphor @yespolkadotkitty @cinewhore @wille-zarr @tangledlove27 @ahopelessromanticwritersworld @cryptkeepersoul @hayley-the-comet @clydesducktape @jaime1110 @computeringturtle @lovinglokiforever @justanotherblonde23 @sesamepancakes @phoenixhalliwell @giselatropicana @buckysalefty @fromthedeskoftheraven @paintballkid711 @ghostwiththemostbitch

next chapter || masterlist (main) || masterlist (marcus pike)

Groaning with relief as you slip into the diner booth across from Marcus, having been on your feet for the past twenty hours, you leaned back into the plush material of the booth. You and he had finally solved the case that had been plaguing the art department for the past month. You offered your co-worker a weary smile.

“Tired?” he asked, his eyes weary with exhaustion as well. You nodded before perusing the menu.

Tell him, your brain whispered.

You had been stalling, biding your time. It would make him uncomfortable, you knew, but it was weighing on you. It had been for some time. You loved Marcus Pike. And he only saw you as a friend, that had been obvious, especially after he started dating Teresa Lisbon in the serious crimes unit. But he was leaving for Washington on transfer tomorrow, and you knew that you couldn’t let things linger the way they had been, despite his growing relationship with Lisbon.

Marcus’s voice calling your name pulled you from your reverie. You looked up from the menu. “You were miles away. Everything all right?” he asked, concern lacing his voice. It wasn’t the first time he’d pulled you from a daydream.

No, not really.

Before you could reply, the waitress shuffled over, a canned smile on her face. “What can I get you?” she asked. Marcus ordered pancakes as usual. You glanced at the menu, ordering the first thing your eyes landed on. Burger and fries it was, then.

The twenty-four hour diner was dead. It was just past elven o’clock at night. There was one other person at the bar. As the waitress dropped off your drinks, you toasted with Marcus.

“To cracking our last case together,” he said.

Your eyes tingled with unshed tears. “Don’t say that. You don’t know if my transfer application will be accepted or not.”

Even before Marcus had told you about his promotion, you had applied for a transfer to the Washington, D.C. office.

“That’s right,” Marcus replied, fighting a yawn. “You could be a pain in my ass in Washington, too. I better enjoy my peace and quiet while I can,” he teased.

“A pain in your ass?” you joked, “don’t you mean the other way around?”

Marcus laughed. It was such a sweet, happy sound.

You played with the wrapper of your straw, biding your time. You had to say something. You had to. It was killing you not to say anything. Though it would hurt for him to turn you down, a small part of you hoped that he wouldn’t. He has a girlfriend, you remind yourself.

“I have to tell you something,” you said, not meeting his gaze. The waitress returned then with your food. “Thank you,” you told her as she dropped the burger in front of you.

“Me too, actually.” Marcus sounded excited, happy.

This piqued your attention. “You first,” you said, relieved that you didn’t have to bare your soul to him just yet.

Marcus grinned at you. “So, you know Teresa?”

She’s all you’ve ever talked about for the past three months.

“Lisbon? Yeah, I know her,” you said, trying to keep your voice level. Marcus chuckled, thinking you were teasing him.

You didn’t think much of the CBI agent that your friend was dating. She seemed cold, calculating. The few times you met her, she seemed like she couldn’t care less about Marcus. Your cousin, whose boyfriend worked in the same department as Lisbon, had told you some stories. When her department teamed up with yours, you had seen the way she and Patrick Jane looked at each other.

Taking a bite of your burger, you gestured at him to continue.

“I asked her to come with me,” said Marcus, unable to keep the giddiness out of his voice. You nearly choked on your burger.

“Oh,” you said, taking a sip of water to clear your throat. You hadn’t been expecting that. Your skirt suddenly felt too tight, your skin wrong, like your body was outgrowing your skin in dread at what this could imply. “That’s a bit -”

Marcus interrupted you. “Soon? Well, she said yes. And, um, well…” he trailed off for a moment.

Anticipation killing you, you said, “Yes? Well?” It came out harsher than you intended, noting how Marcus frowned for a moment.

“I asked her to marry me and she’s probably going to say yes.”

Your half-eaten burger slipped from your hands. Your heart sunk to the pit of your stomach. And before you could stop yourself, a singular word escaped your lips. “No.”

Heat filled your entire body. Embarrassment flooded your every vein and pore and nerve as you registered how Marcus shifted. His body language wasn’t open and genial. It was defensive.

“What do you mean, no?” he asked you quietly, his grin morphing into a frown.

Unsure of whether to backtrack or plunge ahead, you took another bite of the burger.

Marcus repeated the question, his voice deadly serious as he said your name.

Something snapped inside you. “No. I don’t think you should have asked her to marry you, Marcus.”

Whether it was genuine concern or jealousy that was egging you on, you couldn’t be sure.

He was startled. Hurt. “And why not?” His voice was defensive.

It was like you were drunk, the words spilling out of you without inhibition, the words bitter on your tongue. “Because she isn’t right for you. She doesn’t want you, Marcus, she wants that asshole, Jane!”

Marcus’s eyes widened. “How do you know that? Did she tell you that?” he asked you. “Are you a clairvoyant like Jane is?” he demanded.

“Don’t have to be. A blind person can see that she’s only using you.”

“You really don’t like her, do you?” asked Marcus, anger lacing his voice.

Sarcasm dripped from your voice as you said, “Wow, what a surprise! You finally got it! I don’t like the person that my best friend is seeing because she’s using him for her own selfish interest! She’s wrong for you, Marcus.”

Marcus scoffed and rolled his eyes at you. “And if she’s wrong for me, just who exactly is right for me? You?” he laughed bitterly.

Your heart shattered into a million pieces as an awkward tension settled around you, making itself at home between you and him. “Wow. Fuck you, Pike. Don’t come crying to me when she leaves you for the man she actually wants,” you said bitterly, taking your wallet from your purse and slapping down a fifty onto the table, not noticing the look of regret and shame that had come over Marcus’s face.

As you stormed out of the diner, the door slamming behind you, you ignored Marcus shouting after you.

Ignoring the looks of the people on the sidewalk as you stormed to your car, tears streamed down your face. They were a mix of anger, heartbreak, and shame.

Why had you said those things?

Because you were right.

* * *

You drove home on autopilot, unaware of your surroundings. You couldn’t face him, not for a very long time. It was stupid. You were stupid. You shouldn’t have let him go first, should have just barrelled on and told him that you loved him.

Past tense?

Shit. You would always love Marcus, you thought as a shuddering, gasping sob ripped through you.

Not even bothering to hang your coat up - just dumped it on the floor on top of your heels - you lay down on the couch and cried.

You were sorry, you really were. That wasn’t how you wanted it to go. Pulling your phone from your blazer pocket, you found Marcus’s contact.

I’m sorry, you typed. I shouldn’t have said those things.

Just as you were about to hit send, you noticed that Marcus was also writing a text to you. Erasing your own text, you waited to see what Marcus had to say. A few seconds later, he had seemingly erased what he had to say.

Well, then. Two could play at that game.

Clicking out of your text message, you sent an email to your boss, effectively calling out sick for tomorrow, claiming exhaustion and an oncoming cold that you wanted to take out before it got too serious.

It was partially right. Tomorrow was Friday, so no one would look at you sideways when you showed up on Monday completely healthy. You couldn’t face Marcus tomorrow. Not on his last day. They were throwing him a going-away party, and you had no desire to celebrate.

Stumbling from the couch, you went to bed, exhaustion and remorse wiping you out. You were distantly aware of an email popping up on your phone, no doubt your boss responding. You hardly ever called off sick, so you knew that your boss would accept it without question.

After a fitful sleep, you woke with a start just after six in the morning. Less than five hours of sleep. God, you wanted to sleep for at least a year.

It had been undignified, what you had said last night, you knew that. But you also knew that Teresa wasn’t being entirely truthful with Marcus. Feelings for him or not, it had never sat right with you, the way that Teresa played with both Marcus and Patrick instead of dealing with her feelings like an adult.

Sure, you could have been a bit more couth when you told him what you thought of his would-be fiancée, but you didn’t think she showed much couth with him, regardless of how much she tried to pretend.

Head throbbing like you were hungover, you pulled the duvet up over your head and attempted to go back to sleep.

* * *

Marcus tried to put on a happy face as his co-workers celebrated his promotion. But after last night, he didn’t feel like smiling.

I fucked up. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it. Can we talk? he had typed as he got in his car last night, the pancakes sitting heavy in his stomach. But as he saw that you were also typing, he erased his words, waiting for you to say what you wanted to say, hoping with all his heart that it wasn’t more anger and hurt.

He had fucked up, he knew he had. But he let his pride get the better of him, and now the one person he cared about the most was hurting as a result.

It had shocked him when you told him just what you thought of Teresa last night, though it shouldn’t have. You had always been so non-committal when he asked your opinion of her.

When she had accepted his proposal this morning, he had tried to feel happy, elated even. What he felt, though, was hollowness. Like it was a pyrrhic victory. As Teresa had told him that yes, she would marry him, your words from last night nagged at him as he remembered that the one person he wanted to share his joy with was angry with him.

Marcus wondered what you had wanted to say to him. He never did find out. As he did one final sweep of what was once his office before having to go to the airport, Marcus tried not to think of how you hadn’t been at work today. The boss had said you were coming down with something.

Bullshit, Marcus thought. Still, he could not blame you. He wouldn’t want to be around him if he were you. Not after the venomous words that he had said to you in a moment of desparation to have the final word.

Why hadn’t he heard you out? You’d hardly ever been wrong before. He’d dismissed it in the heat of the moment as you being jealous. Maybe you were, but he couldn’t deny that it was valid for you to be jealous. He’d hardly spent any time with you outside of work after he’d started dating Teresa, casting you off to the sidelines. It hadn’t been intentional. But he had seen the wounded looks you’d shot him as he said he couldn’t get drinks or go to a movie or do something after work or on weekends.

He really fucked up. Marcus’s throat burned with shame. It hadn’t stopped burning since last night. He’d wanted to take those words back the second they were spoken.

And if she’s wrong for me, just who exactly is right for me? You?

The words had played on a loop in his head all night, the look of undiluted hurt on your face seared into his mind’s eye, as he hoped - with futility - that the two of you could talk today. That he could apologize in person.

Once he settled into Washington with Teresa, you would see. Everything would work out just fine, he hoped.

Just as he was getting set up in his new place in D.C., Marcus’s phone rang. It was Teresa.

As she told him that she couldn’t marry him, that it was Jane - it was always Jane - that she wanted to be with, her voice unconvincingly contrite, Marcus was more surprised about the fact that he wasn’t too surprised by what Teresa had to say.

You were right. Fuck.

As he pulled up your contact to tell you that you were right, he remembered what you had said.

Don’t come crying to me when she leaves you for the man she actually wants.

* * *

Time passed. The wound of your last words with Marcus had started to scar over. As much as you tried not to think about him, you still loved him.

He had returned to the Texas office five months after you had last seen him, having done an undercover job. God bless your cousin’s boyfriend for texting you, informing you that Marcus was in the building and was going to make a stop in the art department before his return flight to D.C. You didn’t know how much Emma had told Joe, but apparently it was enough that he sent you a head’s up.

After word had spread that Teresa had dumped Marcus for Patrick, you tried to sit on your high horse. You had been right. But at the thought of Marcus having his heart broken by the woman he loved, your heart broke a little bit. You didn’t want him to be hurt. It didn’t stop you from being petty, though. You were professional, but cold, giving the other woman a taste of her own medicine.

In the weeks and months after your argument in the diner - which you hadn’t returned to since - it was as though you were recovering from a bad breakup. In a manner of speaking, you were. Throwing yourself into your work, Marcus would often pop up in your thoughts. Just generally, hoping he was well, that he was enjoying D.C., and that he was doing well in Washington. A number of times, you had considered calling or texting, but he had been so angry with you, he was probably still angry with you.

As the elevator pinged, you could hear your heart beat in your ears.

What would you say? What would he say?

Pretending to be busy with paperwork, you were acutely aware of Marcus greeting all of his former co-workers, his voice filtering through your opened door.

Then he was at your office door, a musical knock at the door.

Forcing yourself to turn around in your chair, you saw Marcus Pike for the first time in six months. Your mouth ran dry.

How had he become more handsome?

“Hi,” Marcus said.

You licked your lips. “Hi, Marcus,” you said shyly, not meeting his gaze.

Marcus had grown a beard. It suited him. The tension in the room was palpable. Pungent. Both of you remembering what your last words to each other had been.

“It’s good to see you,” Marcus said.

You nodded. “Y-you, too.”

Both of you started to say something at the same time.

Marcus chuckled ruefully. “You first,” he said.

Pressing your lips together, you said, “I’m sorry, Marcus. About … that night.”

Sighing, Marcus nodded his head. “Yeah. Me, too.”

You expected to feel better. In a way you did, but it was a very half-assed apology. He had thrown you off-guard. You couldn’t help but note that he didn’t seem angry. Embarrassed, perhaps?

Changing the topic, Marcus asked you about your transfer, whether it had been accepted, knowing the answer already - he’d seen the memo that his supervisor had sent out a few days ago.

“It has. I start in Washington next week,” you said. “This is my last case.”

Marcus smiled at you. “That’s great! Art department?”

Unfortunately.

“Yep!” You forced your voice to be upbeat, sounding chipper instead. You didn’t do chipper.

Rubbing his beard, Marcus said, “Well, it’ll be good to work with you again.”

You knew he was just saying that to be polite, but you agreed with him all the same.

The two of you lingered there in the awkward silence until he had to leave for the airport, leaving many things still unsaid floating above your heads like clouds.

I’m sorry. Please forgive me. I was wrong. I love you.

#marcus pike x reader #marcus pike x you #the mentalist fanfiction #marcus pike #pedro pascal character fanfiction

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eggmarr · 3 years

Text

one + one [marcus pike x reader] - 2

part 2: a study in art theft (and why blind dates never work out) (fem!reader)

a/n: here it is! i wanted to focus a bit more on how marcus and reader look on the outside to people who know them well before moving to the pov of someone outside in the next chapter. for reference; piper is basically angela montenegro, while andrews is hodgins with zach traits. (x)

————————————————-

“So,” Piper began, unwrapping one of the sandwiches you’d gotten from the café across the street. “How did it go last night?”

You fixed tired eyes onto the nonchalant woman, lazily pointing a finger in her direction.

“The next time you send me on a blind date, please warn me if they’re one of your old hookups.”

“C’mon, it couldn’t have been...that bad?” She cringed, taking a sip from her water bottle. “Nope, can’t even pretend.”

“He got absolutely hammered, and did nothing but talk about you and apparently some wonderful thing you can do with-“

Her hand slapped over your mouth, eyes begging you to stop talking as Andrews and Pike walked through the doors of the lab.

He and Pike had been at odds for around a week before coming to a sort of mutual respect with each other. Apparently, he looked oddly similar to Patrick Jane, but you didn’t see it.

They stopped in their tracks at seeing Piper sprawled out on your desk, mint green nails shining from her hand’s position on the mouth of your alarmed expression.

“Should we run, Pike?”

“I dunno, Andrews. It seems like a reasonable idea.”

“Oh please,” She rolled her eyes, sitting back down into professionalism with a flip of her hair. “You’ve seen worse in this lab-“

“-So, I’m assuming you have something for me, Pike?”

You cleared your throat, quickly interrupting her before she went on the offensive or said something to embarrass either of you.

“Actually,” Andrews drawled, “We’re switching today. Pike needs Piper to do a reconstruction but another agent wants us at a scene.”

Piper frowns as you freeze, looking from you to Pike in confusion. Andrews knows how weird things get when you two get separated, and it’s really not in anyone’s best interest to deal with either of you like that.

“But-“

You attempt to speak up, but Andrews takes advantage of the silence to heave you out of your chair with your examination bag in hand.

“Agent Franklin gets tetchy when we aren’t on his time, remember? We’re already going to have to pick up coffee just to make sure he doesn’t lecture us when we get there-“

The lab doors shut with a small thud, leaving Piper alone with the oblivious idiot and his kicked-puppy face.

God, that kind of sadness should be illegal.

“Chin up, Romeo.” She tugged his arm, sitting the man in her extra chair and pulling up her reconstruction software. “Parting is such sweet sorrow, huh?”

“What?”

“...Never mind. What’s this reconstruction you need?”

*****

A light breeze whistled through the air as the wind chimes twinkled a small tune, blending well with the hustle and bustle in the park.

Andrews kept his distance as you sipped your coffee, a contemplative look on your face that made him triple-check Piper’s text with your order.

Turns out that Franklin was just putting in his transfer notice, so he decided to attempt to apologize with coffee.

“Doctor, I-“

“Can we make a stop before going back to the lab? I need to pass by a bookstore.”

“...Sure, but-“

You placed your phone back onto the table, lacing your hands together to look him in the eyes.

“Don’t apologize for professionalism, Henry. You were correct in assuming that Agent Franklin would need us for something important, so leading me out of the lab was the best solution to the task at hand.”

His shoulders relaxed.

“Don’t think this leaves you off the hook, though. I’ll need you to help me find the books I need.”

You eyed your former student as he went through several different emotions at once, settling on a subtle tone of defeat.

“Of course, Doctor. What are you looking for?”

“...What do you know about art history?”

#ask me about them and I'll love you forever #piper really just understands the look at this point #marcus pike x reader #marcus pike #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal characters #marcus pike imagine #pedro pascal

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trulybetty · 3 months

Text

03 x snowfall - marcus pike x reader

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

x. masterlist

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

Saturday morning.

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

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

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

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

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

I love you, M.

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

#x29 valentines #marcus pike #marcus pike fanfiction #marcus pike fanfic #marcus pike x you #marcus pike x reader #marcus pike x gn!reader #marcus pike x f!reader #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal characters

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trulybetty · 10 months

Text

Sleep.

Pairing: Marcus Pike x F!Reader (no use of Y/N) Word Count: 1,689 Warnings: Late nights, talk of exes (we don't ship Lisbon here) and a little sprinkle of angst if you squint hard enough Summary: Marcus is leaving for a week for work

A/N: @gnpwdrnwhiskey reblogged the following and it stuck with me, and who better for it than our resident Fluffy Boyfriend™ Marcus Pike?

Sleep.

The air was still and heavy in the dimly lit bedroom, the only sounds were the soft hum of the air conditioner and the muted whispers of city life that filtered through the closed windows. As you laid there, the sheets soft against your skin, you couldn't help but revel in the sense of peace that wrapped around you.

Your heart still pounded in your chest, the aftermath of the earlier activities still resonating through your body. The warm, familiar weight of Marcus's head nestled comfortably on your chest, his breaths falling in sync with your own.

Marcus, with all his boyish charm, was sprawled across the bed, his toned, naked body half-covered with the rumpled sheets, his dark hair just as tousled. His arm was draped across your stomach, the warm fingers tracing idle patterns on your skin.

"You're going to make me fall asleep if you keep doing that," Marcus mumbled, his voice a mere whisper, lost amidst the rustle of the sheets and the hushed echoes of the night. His words were muffled against your skin, his lips tracing unintelligible patterns on your chest, raising goosebumps in their wake.

His statement elicited a smile from you, your fingers tracing a gentle path through his hair, causing him to let out a deep sigh. His hair was thick and soft, the strands sliding through your fingers. “That's the point.”

"But I want to enjoy this a little longer," he protested, lifting his head to look at you. His dark eyes were full of warmth and tenderness. His cheeks were flushed, a rosy hue that spread down his neck. His hair was a mess, dishevelled from your fingers and their earlier recreation, falling into his eyes. He was overdue for a haircut.

His hand, the one that wasn't tucked underneath you, ran laps from your hip to your rib cage, each run stopping to trace the delicate tattoo on your side. His touch was gentle, yet firm, the pads of his fingers tracing the intricate lines of the ink, the feel of his touch on your sensitive skin sending shivers down your spine.

"You need to be up early tomorrow." You reminded him, looking across at the late hour on the clock that sat on Marcus' side of the bed.

"Which is why I want to enjoy this a little longer," Marcus argued, nuzzling his face against your chest. His beard, which he had let grow in, tickled your skin, a contrast to the softness of his lips. The sensation sent a small shiver through you, making you giggle. He smiled at the sound, his eyes opening slightly to gaze at you. "I won't see you for a week."

"It'll fly by," you reassured him, tracing the shell of his ear with your fingers, eliciting a soft sigh from him.

"We'll see about that," he replied, his voice heavy with the knowledge that the week ahead would be a test of his patience.

"It'll be okay," you whispered, placing a soft kiss on his forehead.

"You're not going to go to Sweet Jane's without me, are you?" His question held a hint of a playful fear of missing out on the Sunday ritual. It was a small thing, but it was your thing - the cozy brunch place with the best pastries in town.

"Only if I didn't think I might still be there by the time you come back trying to decide on what to order," you joked. His laughter filled the room, a genuine, wholesome sound that echoed around the room.

"What would you do without me?" he asked, a smirk playing on his lips. His question, though light-hearted, held an undercurrent of sincerity.

"The same as I did before you," you answered. You feel him stiffen slightly, his eyes scanning your face for any sign of insincerity. You laugh lightly, your fingers tracing the furrowed lines of his brow, smoothing them away. "But it wouldn't be half as enjoyable."

His tension melted away, his smile returning. His hand found yours, his fingers intertwining with yours. His thumb traced small circles on the back of your hand.

The silence of the night wrapped around you both once more. You lay there, Marcus's head heavy on your chest, his steady breath lulling you into a state of quietude.

It's a comfortable silence, the kind that comes with familiarity and understanding. There are no expectations in the silence, no pressure to fill the quiet. There's just you, him, and the night wrapping you both in a gentle hush.

"Are you nervous?" you ask after a while. His fingers twitch against your skin, a tell-tale sign of his surprise at your question.

"About Sacramento?" he asks, his voice muffled slightly as he presses his face deeper into your chest. You nod, even though he can't see it, and he exhales slowly. "A little, I suppose."

You feel his hesitation in his words, a sense of uncertainty that tinges on his voice. You know he's been excited about this new opportunity, but Sacramento brings back old memories that have no place in the present.

You know the circumstances that brought Marcus to Washington, DC from Sacramento. His story had come tumbling out during your first date—typical Marcus—instead of the goodnight kiss you'd expected. He had been hoping for a happily ever after, but instead he found himself six months later in the nation's capital with only heartache.

And maybe you should have ran, you certainly didn’t need anyone to save you and you didn’t need someone to be the be-all and end-all of everything. Having said that, it's not like you weren't without your own baggage. So against your better judgement, you'd agreed to a second date.

He's a hopeless romantic, loves the classic movies where the leading men were chivalrous and the leading ladies were damsels in distress, waiting to be swept off their feet. So it had been a tough pill for Marcus to swallow. Being with someone who didn’t need him, but wanted him there. It was a foreign concept.

You knew about the first wife, the marriage ending when he couldn't bend on his passion for his work. She didn't want to follow him across the country to California and couldn't understand why all of a sudden he wasn't giving in to her after an entire relationship of him bending to be what she had wanted.

You also knew about Lisbon, doe-eyed and confused about what she wanted and leading Marcus along in the process. Though you suspected Marcus enjoyed the idea of being the white knight in this scenario.

But you know, after being together for three years, the person he is now is so much different from who he was before. He’s come a long way; he’s found security in himself and in your relationship. You reach down and cup his face gently, lifting it up so your eyes can meet his.

"You've changed, Marcus. And for the better," you tell him, the sincerity in your voice piercing the quiet air between you."Plus I finally get to call you 'Professor Pike' officially," you said, referring to the series of lectures he was going to be completing that week.

He chuckles again, though this time it's softer, less sure. "I know, I know. I just...I hate the idea of leaving you alone here." The words hang in the air, his admission resonating with a vulnerable honesty. He pauses, the silence filled with unspoken thoughts and quiet contemplation. A sigh leaves his lips, a subtle sound that tugs at your heart. "I'm going to miss you."

You lean forward to press your lips against his forehead, a comforting balm of reassurance. "I know, Marcus," you whisper, your voice barely audible in the still room. "I'll be okay. It's not the first time, and it won't be the last."

"And what about you?” He asks, breaking the silence. His voice is softer, sleepier now. "Will you miss me?"

Your heart clenches at his words. Of course, you'll miss him, more than words could express. You love him and not having him by your side will make the days longer, the nights colder. But you also understand both the demands and the passion for his work.

"I'll miss you, but I know how important this is to you. Plus, it'll give me time to catch up on my pile of books to be read." You offer a small smile, hoping to lighten the mood.

Marcus laughs at that, a warm, deep sound that sends a shiver down your spine. His laughter fades into a sigh, his hand still tracing patterns against your skin. He presses another kiss to your chest, just below your collarbone.

"I wish I could take you with me," he admits, his voice barely a whisper. His words send a rush of warmth through you, and you wrap your arms tighter around him.

"And I would go with you in a heartbeat," you assure him, "But you have lectures to give and I have books to read."

Marcus's expression softens, his fingers tracing delicate patterns on your stomach. He leans in to kiss you. The kiss is slow and lingering, an affirmation of the love and trust that exists between the two of you. You feel it deep in your bones, a warm glow that spreads through your chest.

His murmur, muffled against your skin, was barely a whisper. "I love you." The words, although sleep-laden, held a depth of sincerity that tugged at your heart.

Your response was a whisper, a soft echo in the quiet room. "I love you too."

#marcus pike #marcus pike x you #marcus pike x reader #marcus pike x f!reader #marcus pike x female reader #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal character fanfiction

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trulybetty · 9 months

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Bookstore | Frankie Morales x f!Reader

Pairing: Frankie Morales x F!Reader (no use of Y/N) Word Count: 2,163 Warnings: This is Flings and Stood Up Frankie four years later, so things might be a little jaded, just saying. No real warnings, hints of some angst - but that's about it Summary: It's been multiple moves across states with Frankie and with retirement from the service the two of you are looking at a fresh start. AO3: Linked

A/N: Soo, this is Bookstore Frankie, the piece that spurred Stood Up and Flings. I've been putting off putting it out as I've been worried this won't live up to those two one-shots. We have the lovely @wildemaven’s prompts to thank for the creation of the Marcus Pike and the Sweet Janes series, and now we have them to thank for Frankie and this currently untitled series 💕✨

There was a misconception some people had when they first met Frankie. They’d take in his appearance, the permanent ball cap on his head, the nondescript clothing, heavy boots, dirt under his nails no matter how often he scrubbed his hands, coupled with his quiet demeanour and make an unqualified assumption.

Which was precisely what was happening at that moment.

“How can I help you?” the shop clerk asked eagerly, clasping her hands together as she framed herself directly in front of you. Making no mistake who she thought led the excursion to the bookstore that morning.

“Actually,” you replied with a small smile, “I’m tagging along with this guy,” you thumbed in the direction of Frankie who had ignored the formalities you’d found yourself in and was making a beeline for the bookshelves.

“Oh,” was the shop clerk's response and you gave her a short smile before heading off to find your boyfriend who had disappeared amongst the racks of books.

Frankie was an ex-army Delta Force operative and had also served as a part of the Special Operations Aviation Regiment. Not that he would ever tell anyone that. If asked he’d simply shrug and tell those who would ask that he was just a flight instructor, a gross understatement for what he actually did now, but as Frankie told you. It kept things simple, and it kept people from asking questions.

The only reason you knew anything at all about Frankie’s military career is that what was supposed to be a fling between deployments turned into a four-year-long sleepover, three moves across states and his retirement from active service.

But it wasn’t just in bookstores, it was everywhere. Whenever the two of you went out, most people would underestimate him or simply overlook him. To them, Frankie was just an ordinary man, nothing special about him.

But to you, he was everything

As you made your way through the narrow aisles of the bookstore, you finally caught up with him as he held a book in his hand, his brow furrowed in concentration as he read the blurb on the back.

“Find anything good?” you whispered as you came up behind him, sliding your arms around his waist to peer around his shoulder.

Frankie held up the book for you to see, “Dean Koontz,” he said with a smile of satisfaction. “I’ve been wanting to read this one for a while now.”

You nodded, recalling his recent phase of reading through the author’s works.

“What else do you have there?” You asked, indicating the book tucked under his arm.

He didn’t look down, his eyes reading the back of another novel now, “Just some manual.”

You raised your eyebrow, “Just some manual?”

Letting go of him you slid the book out from under his arm and inspected the cover, “Advanced Aerodynamics and Propulsion: A Comprehensive Guide,” you read aloud, your voice echoing a mixture of disbelief and amusement. “Just some manual, huh? A bit beyond your usual fun reads?”

Frankie shrugged, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “Thought I’d brush up a bit before that course starts. It's been a while since I played with the hardcore stuff, and you know how I like a challenge,” his eyes now had a mischievous glint. “Got to keep up with the younger crowd at school. Don't want to let my old age show too much,” he chuckled, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you close.

The bookstore, aptly named ‘The Last Book Store’ was nestled between a florist and a coffee shop in downtown Tampa. The store was a captivating blend of weathered leather-bound classics and the vibrant hues of freshly printed paperbacks. The lingering smell of paper coupled with the scent of the fresh roast from the coffee shop next door made it all the more charming. You made a mental note that you would stop there on your way home since you still had yet to find your coffee maker in the labyrinth of boxes since moving to Florida. You were desperate for a freshly brewed cup of coffee and not something made from instant freeze-dried grounds.

“You're hardly old,” you retorted, playfully poking him in the ribs.

He laughed, leaning down and kissing the top of your head. “Says the spring chicken.”

You rolled your eyes, barely a year between you, but couldn't help the smile that spread across your face.

“Are you excited about returning to school?” you asked, he was going back after a long stint in the military.

Frankie's expression shifted, his eyes distant as he confided, “Yeah, excited but also a bit anxious. It's been ages since I tackled papers and exams.”

You offered a reassuring squeeze of his hand. “No doubt you'll ace it. You've got some smarts in there,” you quipped, a playful grin easing the tension. “And plenty of experience too.”

He laughed, appreciation in his eyes. “Some brains hey Mav? I didn't know you thought so highly of me.”

“Well, I have to give credit where credit's due,” you said, shrugging playfully.

He looked at you a moment longer before leaning in, his lips capturing yours in a gentle kiss. The world around you seemed to fade away, and for a brief moment, there was only the two of you, between the bookshelves hidden from the view of the other customers.

“Do you think we made a good choice moving to Florida,” you asked.

Frankie nodded, his mouth turning up in an expression that resembled a smile, though it never touched his eyes. “I think so. A new chapter for both of us.”

“Is that Francisco Morales with a pun?” you teased.

“Maybe,” he said, his eyes brightening.

“Remember that bookstore we used to visit back in Colorado?” you asked, your voice heavy with nostalgia.

Frankie looked at you, his eyes softening as he remembered. “The one with the creaky floors and the old guy who knew every single book in the place?”

“That’s the one,” you said, smiling. “This place reminds me a little of that.”

Frankie reached for you hand, and gave it a gentle squeeze, “We can make this our new spot. Start a new tradition.”

“You think this is it?” you asked him hopefully.

Frankie gave a half smile, “I hope so, baby. We've been through enough, it's time to settle down.”

The sincerity in his voice made your heart swell with emotion. The journey to where you stood now had not been an easy one, with Frankie's past and the constant moves between deployments. But here you were, together, looking forward to a future you could both finally believe in.

This was a fresh start.

He kissed your forehead, his lips lingering there as if to seal a promise. “We'll make it work. We always do.”

You looked into his eyes, seeing the determination and the underlying vulnerability that he so rarely showed to others. You knew him better than anyone, and most of all, his potential.

You reached up and cupped his cheek, feeling the stubble against your palm, you bit back a smile. No matter how hard he tried he could never grow in a full beard. Only the other day, when Will came by after his veteran support group had finished. The two men had sat on the porch, beers in hand, Will teasing Frankie as he stroked his own full beard.

Will was already living in Florida, part of the catalyst for this one last move as Frankie had promised you. That promise had come off of the back of the trouble Frankie had found himself involved in. The trouble that you’d both agreed on was now put to rest and in the past. Will, having served with Frankie as a part of Delta Force, he and the others were a special kind of elite. The creme de la creme, all forged for war and set loose with little to no regard for what would happen once they were back home. Will had been a somewhat lifeline for Frankie in retirement, his quiet demeanour a match for Frankies.

“I know we will,” you whispered, echoing Frankie's assurance, your eyes locked on his. “We're in this together, right?”

Frankie's eyes softened, and he nodded, his grip on you tightening. “Always.”

You both pottered around the bookstore for a little while longer. The building was deceptive from the outside it looked to be a small affair, but the place was expansive with rows and rows of racks and a second floor. Frankie had found another book to add to his stack and you a couple of paperbacks that were light reads to get you through the next couple of weeks.

The two of you watched the rain fall from under the awning of the coffee shop next door. A gentle drizzle combined with the humidity, you could smell the heat coming off the asphalt.

“It seems like Florida wants to give us a proper welcome,” Frankie remarked.

You laughed as you stashed your purchases into the canvas bag you'd brought with you to keep them safe from the rain, “Very reminiscent.”

Grabbing your hand, Frankie stepped forward, out from undercover into the rain.

You thought you were both going to make a dash to the car, instead, Frankie stopped and turned his face up to the sky. Before you could ask what was going on you saw the carefree smile tugging at his lips and he looked at peace for the first time in what had been a long time.

“You know Mav,” he said, his face still upturned to the sky, “they say rain is good luck.”

You laughed, shaking your head as droplets clung to your lashes, “Is that so?” you stepped back to close the distance between you both, your fingers reaching out to trace the outline of his jaw.

His hand finding a place on the curve of your cheek and the other around your waist, he moved closer, his lips barely a breath away from your own. Your heart skipped a beat, his touch sent a shiver down your spine despite the warmth the rain fell into.

“It’s really going to be different this time, I promise,” he stated, looking at you directly in the eye.

“I know,” you responded forcing a smile, really wanting to believe that this was going to be the fresh start the two of you needed.

Retirement was a bright horizon ahead for both of you full of opportunities. You just hoped it was a bright enough light to stave off the dark clouds that had followed through your last moves across states.

You didn’t think he could get any closer, but he shifted and his hips knocked into you forcing you to wrap your arms around his neck as he pulled you into a playful twirl. The rain soaked through your clothes, and the drops glistened on his face, highlighting the joy in his eyes.

The world seemed to fade away as you both danced in the rain, your laughter echoing in the otherwise quiet street.

“Here’s to us, Mav,” Frankie said, leaning in to gently kiss your lips. “I love you,” he whispered, his breath warm against your ear.

“I love you too,” you said, your voice cracking with emotion.

His words sent a shiver down your spine, and before you could respond, his lips found yours in a soft yet passionate kiss. The rain intensified the sensation, each raindrop a fleeting caress as you melted into his embrace. It was a kiss that held the promise of everything that had brought you together – the challenges, the laughter, and the shared moments that had forged your connection.

As the kiss deepened, the world seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you in the midst of the rainstorm. His fingers traced a gentle path down your back, leaving a trail of warmth in their wake. When you finally pulled away, both of you were left breathless, rain-slicked hair clinging to your skin.

Frankie's gaze bore into yours, his expression a mix of desire and adoration. “I think I've found my luck,” he whispered, his thumb brushing your damp lips.

As you headed back to the car, the rain began to ease, and the sun peeked through the clouds, casting a warm glow on the wet pavement. You glanced at Frankie, noticing the way he seemed more relaxed, the weight of the past years lifting. You could see it in the way he walked, in the way he smiled, and in the way he held you close.

Yes, you thought, this was the right decision. Florida would be your new start, a place to finally settle and grow roots. No more constant moving, no more uncertainty. You had each other, and that was all that mattered.

You slid into the passenger seat, Frankie starting the engine, his hand reaching out to squeeze yours. You looked over at him, his face lit with anticipation and hope of what was to come.

#frankie morales/f!reader #frankie morales/you #frankie morales/reader #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x f!reader #triple frontier fanfiction

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trulybetty · 9 months

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Art Gallery

Pairing: Marcus Pike x F!Reader (no use of Y/N) Word Count: 939 Warnings: Just Marcus Fluff™️, art galleries, talking about feelings, holding hands and all that sweetness that comes with the fandoms cannon for Marcus Pike. Summary: You and Marcus have been dating for a while and surprisingly it's the first time he's gone to an art gallery with you. It's also an afternoon for another first...

Art Gallery

The cool, air-conditioned atmosphere of the art gallery provided a much-needed respite from the sweltering heat of the Washington DC summer. The high ceilings and expansive white walls were curated with carefully chosen artworks that spoke their own stories and emotions. It was an atmosphere Marcus, an FBI Art Division agent, thrived in. He had an inherent understanding and deep appreciation of it all, many thanks to both his degrees in Art History and Fine Arts.

It was a familiar scene for him, yet somehow, today, it was different. Today, Marcus had you by his side.

He’d held off bringing you to an art gallery, thinking it inherently too cliche given his life was steeped in art, from chasing art thieves to unravelling the mysteries behind missing masterpieces. But you had suggested it, and he would be hard-pressed to turn you down.

As you strolled along, quietly discussing each piece, you could feel Marcus's gaze on you. It wasn't a new sensation, Marcus had a way of looking at you that made you feel seen and understood. This time, though, it held a kind of intensity, a warmth that you couldn't quite put your finger on.

Turning to face him, you caught Marcus mid-stare, his steaming coffee from Sweet Janes—a newfound favourite from Georgetown—paused halfway to his lips. His expressive eyes revealed a mix of emotions before he quickly looked away, a faint blush creeping up his neck.

“How's your coffee?” you asked, taking a sip of your own.

“It’s good,” He held the cup up to look at the delicate logo that appeared hand stamped on the sleeve, “I’d go back again.”

You hummed in agreement as his free hand found yours, fingers interlacing as you continue your stroll through the gallery.

Yet, for all his knowledge and appreciation of art, Marcus was a man who wore his heart on his sleeve. A hopeless romantic at his core, he had a tendency to dive headfirst into his relationships. Though now, his past experiences, especially his last one, had left him more guarded. He had told you that he had plunged headfirst into his relationship with Theresa, who he thought was 'the one', but ended up being a one-way road to heartbreak when she chose another man. So this time, with you, it was different. He didn't rush in, throwing caution to the wind. Instead, he took his time, letting his feelings for you grow and evolve naturally. Though the depth of his feelings was evident in his every look and touch.

He cleared his throat and motioned towards an exquisite piece depicting two lovers lost in a passionate gaze from across a crowded room. His voice, usually filled with confidence and authority, was now softer, almost reverent. "You see this painting?" He asked, his southern drawl more pronounced, a telltale sign of his heightened emotions. "It reminds me of us."

The statement caught you by surprise, the genuineness in his eyes made you hold your breath.

"The way they look at each other, the intensity, the love... that's what I see when I look at you," he confessed, his gaze never leaving yours. His admission hung in the air, heavy with anticipation. "I love you."

Those three words, something you had suspected was coming, something you had heard him whisper in the quiet nights he stayed over, when he thought you were asleep. Now, hearing them from him with the intention of you hearing the words directly, they held so much more weight, a depth that made your heart skip a beat.

"I love you too," you replied, your voice carrying the conviction of the emotions swirling within you. You saw the relief in his eyes, the tension in his shoulders melting away.

Releasing your hand gently, Marcus allowed his fingers to wander up your bare arm, their touch light yet electrifying, eliciting a shiver that cascaded down your spine. He curled his hand around the nape of your neck, his touch warm and grounding.

You licked your lips instinctively, the anticipation building as Marcus leaned down, his tall frame bending to meet you. His forehead rested against yours, his eyes holding your gaze captive. The bustling art gallery around you, once filled with echoing voices, seemed to fade into the background. It was as if you and Marcus were the only ones there, locked in your own intimate world amidst the stillness of the art.

A chaste kiss landed on your lips. It was soft and slow, a tender press of his lips against yours that was in stark contrast to the whirlwind of emotions swirling within you. Yet, it held an undeniable passion, a promise of love and commitment that left you breathless.

Marcus pulled back, his gaze lingering on you, tracing the contours of your face as if trying to commit this moment to memory. A small smile played at the corners of his lips, a silent acknowledgement of the magnitude of his admission. In his eyes, there was an undeniable tenderness, a light that spoke volumes about his feelings for you, and it filled you with an exhilarating sense of warmth.

You returned his smile, a quiet gesture that spoke louder than any words could. As your fingers entwined once more, you found comfort in the familiar grip, and without a word spoken between you, you both continued your stroll through the gallery. Stopping every so often to offer a remark on a piece that caught your eye, but mostly to witness the smile that had not left Marcus’ face since you told him you loved him too.

#marcus pike #marcus pike x you #marcus pike x reader #marcus pike x f!reader #marcus pike x female reader #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal character fanfiction

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trulybetty · 10 months

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Baked Goods

Pairing: Marcus Pike x F!Reader (no use of Y/N) Word Count: 815 Warnings: Baked goods, indecisiveness, a little fluff & early Sunday mornings. Summary: Sunday morning traditions for you and Marcus

A/N: I currently have no patience for my current WIP's and found distraction in @wildemaven's @wildemaven-prompts and I'm trying my hand at the second-person perspective, something very new to me. So, any feedback is very much appreciated, please!

Baked Goods.

The glimmer of dawn breached the quiet, sleepy town. The soft hum of the world waking up was just beginning to filter through, punctuated by the occasional far-off murmur of a car. You found yourself standing in front of Sweet Jane's, a bakery tucked in a cobblestone corner of your town.

Marcus stepped into the bakery first, the bell above the door announcing your arrival. You followed after him, the aroma of fresh dough and the sweet perfume of baked goods wrapping around you like a warm, inviting blanket. This was your local bakery, the kind of place where the faces were familiar and the pastries were heavenly.

A simple place with painted walls the colour of custard, and a glass counter full of tantalizing confections that never failed to lure you in. It was Sunday morning, a time when people were in no rush, enjoying their coffee, reading newspapers, chatting amicably about life and the neighbourhood, creating a humming background to your little drama.

“You're going to have to make a decision soon,” Marcus said, a smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth as he observed you peering into the glass counter, your brows furrowed in intense scrutiny.

“How am I supposed to choose?” You replied, your voice holding a hint of desperate amusement. A sea of eclairs, danishes, croissants, and tarts seemed to call out to you, each promising a different, decadent delight. You were certain you could taste the pastries through your gaze alone.

Marcus chuckled, his closeness was a sense of calm that easy Sunday morning. He gestured toward the display with a playful nod. "Choose that one." he suggested, pointing at a raspberry tart glinting with sweet glaze on a bed of paper doilies.

Your eyes followed his indication, its glaze shimmering under the bakery's soft, warm light. It looked divine, but so did the eclair next to it, and the apple Danish on its left. "I don't know, they all look so good," you protested, the whine in your voice taking on a childlike innocence.

“The weekend will be over before you make a decision, and we haven't even ordered coffee yet,” Marcus warned, glancing at his watch. He was leaning against the counter now, one arm folded across his chest, a picture of patience, but increasingly exasperated, affection.

"That's easy," you countered, your gaze shifting from the pastries to him. Coffee, unlike the myriad of pastries, was a simple decision for you - a black americano, no sugar, just the way you liked it.

His lips curled into a smile, the lines at the corners of his eyes deepening, raising an eyebrow at you, "I'm glad something is easy."

“This is frustrating,” you grumbled, your eyes once again drawn to the beautiful pastries before you. In the low murmur of the bakery, the laughter of patrons, the soft hissing of the espresso machine in the background, your frustration felt comfortable, a ritual you both played out with warmth and familiarity each week.

Marcus’s laughed, his chest vibrating against your shoulder, was the melody against your frustration's discordant beat. "Imagine how I feel," he retorted, a playful note in his voice. His eyes sparkled with mirth and something else - something warmer, something that made your heart thump a little louder in your chest.

Choosing a pastry wasn’t just about tasting something delicious, it was the experience: the joy in the anticipation, the first bite melting in your mouth, the taste lingering on your tongue. It was an art, a sensory journey you undertook every Sunday with Marcus by your side.

Your attention remained on the pastries, but your mind was elsewhere. It was filled with images of Marcus. The way his eyes twinkled when he laughed. The way his arm casually draped around your shoulder when you walked side by side. The way his voice, always calm and steady, made you feel grounded. And suddenly, you realized that it wasn’t the allure of pastries making your decision hard, it was the comfort of this moment, the fleeting essence of Sunday mornings spent with Marcus in a bustling bakery. It was a haven from the week ahead where work for you both would mean small glimpses of one another before the weekend was back again.

Finally, you pointed at a custard slice. The bakery worker, who had been waiting with an air of amused patience, moved to box it up for you. As Marcus ordered the coffee, you looked around the bakery, taking in the comforting ambience.

And so, you let go of your worries, your eyes once now tracing the man to your side, Marcus’s warm laugh echoed in your ears as he made small talk with the server. Here, on this Sunday morning, you were more than content with the choices you had made - especially the one standing right beside you.

#marcus pike #marcus pike x you #marcus pike x reader #marcus pike x f!reader #marcus pike x female reader #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal character fanfiction

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trulybetty · 9 months

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New York | Part I

Pairing: Marcus Pike x F!Reader (no use of Y/N) Word Count: 1,622 Warnings: Fluff, working from home, Marcus Pike carries his own warning, a baguette that sounds tastier than the dinner I had, a change in plans and a possible follow-up one shot Summary: You were supposed to spend a week off with Marcus for a staycation, the FBI had other plans... and so did Marcus. AO3: Linked

A/N: had the shittiest day dealing with the shittiest people giving me the shittiest news. So I thought I could go write some angst, or I could finish this fluff piece I had been sitting on using @wildemaven's @wildemaven-prompts (gorgeous mood board underneath the cut). Turns out Marcus fluff is a good way to burn off some of the shittiness of the day! Who knew?

New York, Part I

The late afternoon light filtering through the blinds painted a warm glow over the living room of your apartment. It was a contrasting scene of work and relaxation, with you deeply engrossed in your proposal draft and Marcus comfortably settled into his novel, and a comfortable silence between you both.

Marcus cradled his cold iced coffee from Sweet Janes between his hands as he took lazy sips between turning pages. Your own was balanced precariously on the arm of the sofa you sat next to. Scattered on the coffee table in front of you both were the remains of the makeshift lunch Marcus had brought back along with the coffee. A flakey baguette from Janes to compliment the soft cheese and meat from the deli down the street.

“Have you been to New York before?” Marcus’ voice broke the comfortable silence, his soft Texan drawl resonating from the opposite end of the sofa.

Absorbed in the world of your draft, you responded without glancing up from the screen, your fingers dancing rapidly over the keyboard. “Never,” you replied.

His reply came with a hint of mischief. “Interesting.”

The intonation of that one word halted your typing, and you peered at him from over the top of your laptop, eyebrows raised. The slight tilt of your head mirrored your curiosity. “Interesting?” you echoed.

Marcus responded with a nonchalant shrug, but the mischievous gleam in his eye was hard to miss. He leaned back, the plushness of the sofa enveloping him, and smirked. “Just interesting,”

You rolled your eyes as you went back to your laptop in front of you, getting back to the work you needed to finish if you wanted the weekend clear to spend with Marcus before he headed off on a work trip early Monday morning.

The plan for the weekend had initially been for you to take Saturday to finish this proposal. As you had booked the coming week off when originally Marcus also too had the full week off himself. While you’d been together for a little over a year, there had been a quick familiar rhythm to your relationship. An upcoming staycation in Washington had been an anticipated milestone in your relationship.

Lazy mornings, intertwined legs under soft sheets, breakfasts in bed, and whispered conversations. Afternoons exploring hidden pockets of Washington that neither of you had had the time to see before, despite living there. Brunches at quaint little cafés, late-night strolls by the Potomac, and perhaps an evening at the Kennedy Centre.

This had been the dream for your week ahead. You both had envisioned an uninterrupted week, trading off between your place and his, especially as the topic of sharing a single address began to take precedence in your late-night talks.

But life, as always, was unpredictable. Especially when one was involved with Marcus Pike, head of the FBI’s Art Division, and no stranger to last-minute changes and unexpected calls to duty.

The change in plans had been unexpected—his work, always demanding, had thrown a wrench in the staycation. He had been quiet about the details, only letting you know that a case had come up, more intent on apologizing profusely. Because what was clear, however, was his profound regret knowing you had cashed in at least half a dozen favours to get this coming week off with him. It was evident in the way his shoulders drooped when he broke the news, in the apologetic tone of his voice, and in his instinctive tenseness that hinted he was expecting an argument. His past relationships gave him reason to brace for such reactions.

Marcus had wanted this week as much as you did, maybe even more so. Past relationships had been casualties of his demanding career, and you knew he desperately didn’t want yours to meet the same fate.

However, while disappointment was a natural emotion in this situation, an understanding was bigger. The reality of dating Marcus—his commitment, passion, and dedication to his job—came with its own set of challenges. But it was a package you had willingly accepted, quickly learning that the moments of inconvenience were far outweighed by the depth of your relationship.

A comfortable silence settled between the two of you once more. The hum of your laptop, the turning of pages from Marcus’ book, and the distant sounds of Washington from your open window filled the room.

You snuck quick glances at him every so often, watching as he became engrossed in his novel, his lips sometimes mouthing words silently. There was something so endearing about watching Marcus lost in a book, a juxtaposition to the assertive, often intense FBI agent he sometimes painted himself as at work.

Marcus leaned forward on the couch, placing his book on the coffee table to rip off a piece of bread from the half-eaten baguette. He watched as your fingers danced over the keyboard, your face illuminated by the glow of the laptop screen as you bit on your bottom lip in concentration. Chewing on the bread, he could sense the quiet disappointment that lingered between the two of you still. It had been there despite your best effort to hide it since he broke the news two nights ago over dinner at his place.

After a few minutes, he cleared his throat. "You know," he began, "There's something about New York. The energy, the people, the arts, its history. It’s an experience like no other,” he said with a nostalgic sigh. “Given your interests, you'd love it. Especially the art galleries. The Met, MoMA. They have collections that would take your breath away.”

You glanced at him, eyebrows raised in question. "Sounds like you've got a case of wanderlust, Agent. Planning a solo trip to the Big Apple soon?" You added with a light teasing tone, trying to mask the twinge of sadness at the thought.

He chuckled, but there was a gleam in his eyes you couldn’t place. "Perhaps," he stated cryptically, leaning back and stretching his arms above his head. "I've always thought it would be incredible to explore it with someone I care about. You know, see a Broadway show, visit the Metropolitan Museum, take a walk in Central Park."

"You're really selling it," you replied, fighting back a smile, your curiosity piqued. "Seems like a perfect romantic getaway."

Marcus chuckled, stretching out and placing his feet on the coffee table, his socks mismatched — a quirky habit you'd come to adore. “You know, one of these days, when things aren't so hectic, we should take a trip there. Together.”

The thought was appealing. A shared adventure, getting lost in the city that never sleeps, exploring culture, and each other. But right now, you had more immediate tasks at hand. “Deal. But first, let me wrap this up,” you continued tapping at your laptop, “because I want to take advantage of what time we have before you leave Monday.”

He smirked, playfully teasing, “Well, as long as it doesn’t take you as long as it did to finish that other draft.”

You laughed, retorting, “Says the man who's been reading the same book for two months.”

He feigned offence, hand on his chest. “In my defence, my line of work doesn’t exactly provide ample reading hours.”

The silence stretched between you again as Marcus tapped a rhythm against the edge of the book he’d picked up again. You finally closed your laptop, giving him your undivided attention. "Okay, what's going on? You're acting... odd."

Marcus tossed his book to the coffee table and shifted on the sofa so he was closer to you. He flashed a mischievous smile, "Do I have your word that you won't get angry?"

You gave him a suspicious look, "That depends on what you're about to say."

He took a deep breath. "I might've stretched the truth a little bit. It’s not a case per se, I actually have to go to New York for work, and it’s only a couple of days of consulting. But," he added quickly, seeing the flash of frustration in your eyes, "I also booked us a little vacation. A week in New York. I thought it could be our staycation, just... not in Washington."

The shock on your face was evident as you processed the news he just shared. Your eyes widened in a combination of disbelief and joy as you tried to catch up with what he had just said, "Wait, you did what?"

Marcus gave a half-hearted shrug, his sheepish smile unable to stay hidden. "I wanted to surprise you and make up for my unexpected work trip. It may not have been part of our original plan but I thought it could be special."

You were stunned for a moment, unable to respond to what you had just heard. You put your laptop aside and leaned forward in awe, capturing his lips in a passionate kiss. You pulled away slightly and softly whispered, "You're unbelievable, you know that?"

He let out a low chuckle, pulling you in close and cradling you against his side. "So, your answer is yes to New York then?" he asked.

Giggles erupted from your lips as you pressed your cheek against his chest, planting pecks on the soft skin beneath his jaw. "Yes, yes, a thousand times yes," you murmured.

It was moments like these that reaffirmed why you had fallen for Marcus. Underneath the stoic FBI façade was a man with a heart of gold and an undeniable knack for surprises. As you sat there together, excitedly discussing the adventures that awaited you in New York, the disappointment of earlier faded away, replaced with an excitement that made your heart race almost as much as Marcus himself.

#marcus pike #marcus pike x you #marcus pike x reader #marcus pike x f!reader #marcus pike x female reader #marcus pike/female reader #marcus pike/f!reader #marcus pike/you #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfic

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trulybetty · 4 months

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2023 Tumblr Top 10 Posts

This was really interesting to go through as I really try to avoid anything related to stats - but also fun to revisit some posts/fics I’d forgotten about!

This year was such a transformative year in many different ways, that I’m still trying to process with 2024 quickly approaching. I’m looking forward to seeing what the New Year brings. But I hope it brings me more of the same I’ve experienced here - community building and some wonderful people that I get to call friends 💕

So if you’re interested, check out the following! If you do your own Top 10, please tag me in it! 🙌 you can do your own here!

1. 879 notes - Jun 26 2023 - Pre-Outbreak/Non-Outbreak Joel (photo set)

2. 413 notes - Sep 10 2023 - Sequins (Joel)

Still so thankful for @wildemaven posting that gif - because if she hadn’t Sequins!Joel would never have been created! It’s the gift that keeps on giving. This was also my first foray into anything non-TLOU themed for Joel and I’m still shocked it was received so well.

3. 306 notes - Sep 26 2023 - Happy Birthday (Joel)

Written for Joel’s birthday - this was just straight up smut and birthday sex. But hey, it’s canon Joel likes it gentle, steady, nice and slow… so who was I to not give him nice and slow 🫠

4. 237 notes - Aug 16 2023 - Stood Up (Frankie)

To this day I don’t remember where this idea came from. I was really intimidated to write for Frankie, like I almost didn’t post this! But I’m so glad I did, it’s spurred several other one-shots involving Frankie x Mav and a current (neglected) WIP that I’m excited to get back to in the new year.

5. 227 notes - Aug 31 2023 - Marcus Pike coded Pedro, which inspired this (and number 7).

6. 225 notes - Jul 6 2023 - New (to me) Whiskey promo shoot (photo set)

7. 205 notes - Sep 2 2023 - Sick Day (Marcus)

When I first came back to fanfiction I was so confused by the reader insert format. The last time I wrote fanfic, it was canon characters or OC’s - which is what both Gold Rush and Chiffon (my first) are written in. So in order to try out the format I started with Marcus and what is now the Sweet Jane series. I have plans for those two, I have how they met mapped out in my head, that I hope to explore soon!

8. 175 notes - Aug 4 2023 - Strings (Joel)

This was another nerve wracking foray - reader insert Joel and because it was a challenge to write Joel with someone other than my OC. It started as a one-shot, that then was three parts, then four and finally finished at five. It’s also the only series I’ve managed to complete 😆. I’m so proud of this one, it has a special place in my heart - this is the ending Joel deserves, living on a little farmhouse being taken care of and a reluctant chicken dad.

9. 167 notes - Aug 14 2023 - A Sunday Night Ramble (text post)

This was a late night epiphany - where I realised that I was trying to force writing and make my two OG series’ fit into more palatable moulds for others consumption rather than writing the story I wanted. It’s also a good reminder that it’s okay to take a break from something that isn’t currently serving you. If you come back to it two day later, two weeks later or never - it’s okay. You’re not beholden to anyone. This is all supposed to be fun first and foremost, if you’re not having fun then it may be time to step back and re-evaluate.

10. 166 notes - Aug 24 2023 - Drip (Joel)

I still get sad when I think about this piece. Like real sad. I don’t know if I could write something like this again now - or ever. I was well and truly in my feels with this one. I made the decision to watch a walkthrough of all the cut scenes of TLOU2 and it broke me. I knew what was coming, but knowing and watching were two different things. I do like that I left this one open to interpretation - meaning I can revisit one day if I want, so who knows.

NPT’s: @wildemaven, @gnpwdrnwhiskey, @rhoorl, @morallyinept, @frenchiereading, @maggiemayhemnj, @magpiepills, @goodwithcheese, @secretelephanttattoo, @sin-djarin, @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin, @undercoverpena, @nerdieforpedro, @linzels-blog, @for-a-longlongtime, @avastrasposts, @musings-of-a-rose, @mysterious-moonstruck-musings & anyone else who wants to play - consider this me tagging you in! Please tag me if you do it! I’d love to see! 🙌

#trulybetty 2023 #trulybetty in review #tumblrtop10

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