So, this ask kind of popped into my head? What if Boba finds you missing only to find out that you went to confront Koska Reeves or Bo Katan for how they treated him? When he finds you, you're hurt and upset and you tell him that no one should speak to him like that and you tell him you love him? <3
Oh my goodness. I absolutely love this and I really hope I did it justice! Thank you so much for sharing this idea with me!!
You weren’t one to wander off, especially in a strange space port right before the rag tag team the Mandalorian was putting together was set to leave. So, when Fennec confirms you had yet to return to the ship, panic settles over Boba. You were not a mercenary or a bounty hunter, and while he had taught you how to protect yourself and how to use a blaster, you still weren’t meant for a fight. Boba did everything in his power to keep you from any situation that would put you in harms way. He’d be damned if he let anything happen to you.
Fennec reassures him that you could not have gone far, and it was more than likely you’d gotten distracted by something at the market and were already on your way back to the ship. They split up anyways, to cover more ground as they head out to find you. Boba’s thankful it does not take long, the weight on his chest lifting when he finds you sitting, knees curled up to your chest behind the cantina. It’s instantly replaced with rage as he takes note of your puffy, red eyes. Tears stain your cheeks as you sit, sniffing and hiccupping.
“Mesh’la?” Boba moves slowly, kneeling at your side, one hand held out. “What happened?”
Your eyes go wide, watching him with the skittish nature of a frightened animal. Boba will end whoever’s made you feel this way. “Boba…”
“It’s alright,” he slowly sets his hand on your knee, thumb rubbing soothing circles there, “I’m right here, cyare. You can tell me what happened.”
Another sob wracks your form as you look up to his gaze behind the dark visor. “I’m sorry Boba…”
What did you have to be sorry for? Boba shakes his head, “you have nothing to apologize for.” He coaxes again, cupping your cheek in his gloved hand, brushing away the tears, “tell me what happened.”
“I wanted to confront Bo Katan and the other Mandalorian about what they said to you…” you voice is barely louder than a whisper, but your words ring in his ears like you shouted them. You’d gone to stand up for him, against two Mandalorian warriors, one of which claimed to be the rightful ruler of Mandalore, all on your own. For his reputation.
“Cyare, you didn’t need to do that.” He was used to insults and other people looking down on him. It does not faze him these days, after all, he’d proved them wrong in the end.
You shake your head, anger quickly replacing the tears. “But I did! No one has the right to talk to you like that! I couldn’t just sit by and let them insult the man I love!”
Boba swears the planet stops spinning. He was the last man in the galaxy who deserved love, especially from someone as perfect as you. You deserved more than a broken man like him. Yet here you were, defending his honor because you loved him too much to stand by. “Cyare…”
“Oh kriff!” You slap both hands over your mouth, eyes comically wide, “that’s not how that was supposed to go. I wanted to tell you properly-”
In a flash Boba’s ripped his helmet off, carelessly tossing it away before crashing his lips to yours. He may not deserve you, but he’d be damned if he let you slip through his fingers.
You melt into him, wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling you further into each other as he steals the breath from your lungs. When you two finally part for air, he presses his forehead to yours, not willing to let you go too far away yet. “As honored as I am, cyare, to have you defend my honor, I don’t give a womp rat’s ass what those two think. The only opinion that matters to me is yours, love.”
Prompt: Reader or OC accidentally falling asleep with Marcus Pike. That man would be so sweet about it. 🥴
I cannot, too cute! Marcus would give the best cuddles!
Black and White-- Marcus Pike x gn!reader
You were by no means “uncultured” as Marcus had been claiming all week. Your degree in art history was proof enough, not to mention the minor in classical literature you had garnered along with it during undergrad. Yet once Marcus had discovered your lack of classic film repertoire, he’d sunk his teeth into it, filling the time on your week long sting with a barrage of questions on which movies you had or had not seen. It had simultaneously made your drawn-out case bearable and unbearable; killing time and revealing to your teammate how little classical pop culture you actually knew. Though you swear some of the movies he pitched had to be made up, there couldn’t be that many films you’d missed out on.
“That’s it- I can’t stand it anymore!” Marcus had suddenly declared on day four of the stake out, “after we wrap this case, you’re coming over and I’m making you sit through at least Casablanca.”
“What if I already had plans?”
Marcus raised an eyebrow, his expression dubious, “you have plans? With who?”
You’d cursed the man for how attentive he was. You had been transferred to Marcus’s team in DC a few weeks after he had. Since your arrival the unit had been swamped with cases, leaving you little time to settle into the city and build up your social life from scratch. You’d mentioned the predicament to Marcus before, off hand over one lunch break or another, hoping he could sympathize with your plight. He had and even offered to spend some time with you exploring the city once you all finally managed some time off. The idea excited you more than you liked to admit but so far nothing had ever come to fruition with how large the unit’s case load had grown.
Instead, you found yourself obligated to spend movie night with your fellow FBI agent and Marcus kept his word. With an uncanny sixth sense he’d appeared next to your desk just as you’d finished submitting your last report for the night, quick to catch you before you could slip out unnoticed and fall into the bed that was calling your name at home. It wasn’t that you were opposed to movie night with Marcus, because the idea of the two of you alone and at his place was appealing, but you would have preferred to be watching something filmed within the last decade, and maybe not immediately after wrapping up one of the most hectic cases of your career. Every reservation you had about his plans went out the window the moment he flashed you that dazzling smile of his. How could you say no him when he looked at you like that?
“Pizza and beer to celebrate another case solved-” he grins, laying the food and drinks out on his coffee table- “and quality films to broaden your mind.”
Nursing a beer, you roll your eyes and lean back into his plush coach, “my mind is plenty broad.”
Waggling a finger in your face he shakes his head, “you don’t get to say that till after you’ve watched at least one.”
“Fine.” Biting your bottom lip to suppress and smile you both settle in for the night. Even if they were not your first choice for movies you had pizza, beer, a mountain of blankets and Marcus for the evening, you couldn’t think of a better way to celebrate another case closed and long weekend ahead of you. Just had to ignore how painfully close he was to you under your shared blanket and the way he oh so casually drapes his arm behind you on the back of the couch.
Snuggled into the couch, warm and almost leaning into Marcus’s side, the week hits you fast and hard. The exhaustion washing over you despite your best efforts to follow the movie. No matter how hard you fight it you can barely keep your eyes open forty-five minutes in. Marcus appears invested in the movie, seeming to not have notice your struggle. So, you decide it can’t hurt to take a quick snooze. If you can sleep through the rest of this one maybe you’ll have just enough energy to sit through whatever movie Marcus picks out next.
.
Marcus can’t help but smile when your head hits his shoulder. He’d been waiting for the right excuse to invite you out for weeks, wanting to spend time with you outside the office. Not as teammates but maybe as something more. The hope had been to ask you out on a proper date, dinner and drinks at a nice, quiet restaurant, not pizza and beer in his living room. But as you curl up into his side, a small smile gracing your lips, even in your sleep, Marcus decides he wouldn’t have wanted this night to go any other way. He’s happy to be your pillow so long as it means you’re comfortable and get some much-needed rest.
Turning down the volume, Marcus slowly maneuvers you both so he can lay back, you sprawled out across his chest, a better angle that will hopefully save you from a sore neck in the morning and lets him wrap both arms around you. He stills for a moment as you settle in, pressing in impossibly closer and draping on arm over his shoulder before letting out a sigh of contentment. Tracing lazy patterns across your back he holds you close and wonders what it would be like to have you fall asleep in his arms every night.
Nedding requests for Marcus Pike? I gottcha! I was reading your prompt list and this one screams Marcus: 31. “Wait wait wait wait… You don’t like pancakes? Okay, that’s it. We’re done.” I imagine Marcus saying that and then taking reader on dates on the best pacakes places on DC because she just didn’t have one that was good enough, and they try it all. I love this man.
This prompt is absolutely made for Marcus. I hope I did it justice because I too am absolutely in love with this man. Thanks so much for sending this in!
Pancakes--Marcus Pike x gn!reader
“Staring at it isn’t going to make a lead magically appear, ya’ know.”
Marcus jumps in his seat, eyes darting up to your figure in the doorway. “Well apparently it makes you magically appear.”
Rolling your eyes, you lean against the corner of his desk. “Ha ha, real comedian.”
“What can I say? I’m a man of many talents,” he shrugs, leaning back into his plush office chair.
“Stick to your day job.”
“Hey! I’m trying to but I’ve got this distraction that won’t go away,” he pouts in mock offense, arms crossed. The messy scruff makes it difficult for you to take him seriously.
“I’m trying to distract you because you’ve been holed up in here for hours, Marcus. Everyone else has gone home.” You’d been on your way out the door too when you’d noticed his office light was still on. Frustrating cases like these gave Marcus tunnel vision. He cannot see or think of anything but the case, often forgetting to take care of himself in the process. “You need to rest too. You’re no good to the team if you’re dead.”
“Lil’ missed sleep never killed anyone.”
“I’m sure there’s some factoid somewhere that would prove you wrong, but that’s not my point, Marcus! When’s the last time you ate?”
Your boss just sits and stares up at you blankly.
“See, you can’t even remember!”
“Well, if you’re still here that means you haven’t eaten either,” he counters. How this child-like man got put in charge of an entire division is beyond you.
“I had some chips from the vending machines…” Not the best meal you’ve consumed but it would get you by until you got home.
“Then why are you lecturing me?”
“Marcus!”
He holds his hands up in surrender, “’m sorry. I’ll stop.”
You silently give a cheer for the little successes. Maybe one day he would stop arguing with you over his wellbeing.
“But seriously, you need to eat too.” Marcus stands and beings collecting his things, “I know a great diner about fifteen minutes from here. They have the best pancakes, you’ll love it.”
There was the Marcus you had been looking for, the sweet, charismatic man you knew and loved. “Sounds good to me.” You follow him out to the elevators with a grin, “though, do you have any other recommendations besides pancakes?”
Stepping into the elevator, he looks at you with narrowed eyes, “why?”
Now this was dicey territory, Marcus’s love of all things breakfast was common knowledge around the office, your distaste was not. No, distaste was too strong a word, you just did not enjoy it like most everyone else.
“I’m just not feeling pancakes tonight.” You’re so unconvincing you don’t believe yourself.
“Wait wait wait…” Marcus goes wide eyed, “you don’t like pancakes? Okay that’s it. We’re done.” The elevator doors slide open with perfect timing, Marcus struts away with purpose, leaving you in the dust. Your heart drops, you were not expecting that strong of a reaction. It would seem you were headed home for the night after all. Deflated, you hike up your bag and head for the exit.
“How can you not like pancakes?”
This time you jump at Marcus’s sudden reappearance. “Christ Marcus! Don’t do that.” Not wise to startle an FBI agent with a gun. “And where did you come from?”
He waves off your question, “explain it to me, (Y/N). How can there be anything to dislike about pancakes?”
You sigh as Marcus starts to lead you towards his car. No for your now.
“It’s not that I don’t like pancakes… I’ve just never had a good pancake, so I tend to avoid them…”
You swear Marcus looks at you with pity, “never?”
“Never.”
“How?” It’s like you can see the gears turning in his head, trying to wrap his mind around it.
“My parents were not blessed with any sort of cooking skills,” which to their credit they took in stride and found other ways to put dinner on the table for you all, “but for whatever odd reason they insisted on trying to learn to cook breakfast. Every single pancake they tried to make had the consistency of a frisbee… kinda ruined them from then on.”
“That- yeah that would do it.” Marcus mutters.
“I get them a new cookbook every year for Christmas. They sit on the coffee table in the living room, never touched.”
Marcus snorts, “they’re that bad?”
“Yep.”
For a moment he looks thoughtful, hands stuffed in his pockets. You can see the wheel turning again. He’s planning something. You’re not sure if you should be worried or not.
“There are five places in the city that have killer pancakes. We go get one pancake at each place for you to try. If you try all five and still don’t like pancakes, then there is no hope in fixing your troubled past. I won’t bother you about it again.”
“But?”
“But what?”
“It sounded like you were making a bet. What’s the flip side?”
Marcus grins, “there is no flip side. If you like the pancakes, then we both get to enjoy five to-die-for pancakes together.”
You cannot argue with that logic. Or spending more time with Marcus. “I like the sound of that.”
“Great!”
.
The first place is a quaint hole-in-the-wall café that’s open late, catering to college students and the night shift. Marcus orders plain pancakes and two cups of coffee for you both. He doesn’t even have to ask for your order, already having your coffee preferences memorized. You’ve never understood how he did that. You can barely remember your own order some mornings.
When the waitress brings out the food you already know Marcus has converted you. They look and smell delicious, what pancakes should actually look like, not hockey pucks. You’re tempted to ask to just stay at the café, no need to go to four other restaurants, but Marcus stops you- “no comments, no reviews. I want to know nothing ‘till we have hit all five places.”
Your empty plate should be indication enough of your thoughts of the food.
The second stop is a food truck. A whole food truck dedicated to serving breakfast late at night. You’re surprised Marcus hasn’t given them all his money yet. They serve pancakes rolled up like a cone, filled with fruit, whipped cream and syrup, nearly like a crepe. Marcus fervently assures you it’s still a pancake. You split a strawberry and banana one with him. He teases you when you get whipped cream on your nose.
The next two places are truck stop diners. Marcus gets you blueberry pancakes and apple cinnamon pancakes. You have to restrain yourself from scarfing them down. Too busy enjoying the food you don’t catch Marcus watching you with a smile plastered on his face.
You find yourself dreading the last stop, not wanting the night to be over but its hard not to be excited when Marcus pulls into the parking lot. Its an adorable retro 50s themed 24-hour diner. The waitress calls you both hun and gives you a booth in the back corner. Marcus orders chocolate chip pancakes to wrap it all up and your mouth is watering by the time the sweet waitress returns with your food. They are truly decadent, topped in whipped cream, strawberries and chocolate sauce. You cannot decide if it counts as dessert for breakfast or breakfast for dessert. Either way, they taste even better than they look. Marcus had by far saved the best for last.
“So, what’s the verdict?” His eyes twinkle as he leans in. The grin on his face reminds you of the cat that got the canary.
Holding your hands up in defeat, you sigh, “alright, you’ve converted me. Those were all absolutely amazing pancakes.”
You didn’t think his smile could get any bigger. “That is what I like to hear.”
“I still won’t touch my parents pancakes but I will happily partake next time we go out.”
Marcus nods, reaching across the table he takes your hand in his, rubbing soft circles over your knuckles. “And this all was okay? You had a good night?”
For an impromptu tour of the towns best late-night spots it had been amazing.
This time you’re smiling from ear to ear, “I had the best time, Marcus.”
“So, if I were to ask to do this again sometime?”
“I would happily say yes, especially if there are more pancakes involved.”
hi sorry one more angst request can you do one where reader is close with the team and nat and their abusive partner shows up to the tower maybe more than once, once to bring her home which strikes everyone as odd but really makes natasha worry and another time at a party or something where his abuse is revealed. It would be confusing for the team bc reader is private but so close with them it would be confusing why she didn't tell them and nat ofc has her own concerns
Hello! Thank you for this. It's something I've not written much about, so it was really interesting to try a new thing. Here it is, I hope you like it :)
