Yesterday I was watching Game of Thrones with my dad and Prince Oberyn Martell showed up and I was so excited. My dad then leaned over and whispered, "The Mandalorian." And I just nodded excitedly.
Pedro Pascal is so cool!
New behind the scene image of Pedro and John Favreau from the S1 finale "Redemption" - from the "Star Wars: The Mandalorian: Guide to Season One" book.
(Originally posted via Reddit by user instantmessenge1988 on the Pedro_Pascal subreddit)
word count: 1069
request?: no
description: after taking the oath of the mandalorian, din had abandoned all hope of ever having his own family, until he found the child and a lost traveller
pairing: din djarin x female!reader
warnings: swearing, mentions of infertility
masterlist (one, two)
(Y/N) barley looked up from what she was reading as Din stumbled into the Razor Crest after his latest mission. Grogu looked up from the food she had prepared for him and his ears perked up upon seeing his surrogate father.
“You alright?” (Y/N) asked him, flipping to the next page.
“Yes,” Din responded, still trying to catch his breath. “A lot of foot work.”
“Nothing new.” (Y/N) put her book aside in time to grab the child as he began racing for Din. “Hold on, little one. Let Mando catch his breath.”
“No, no, I’m alright,” Din insisted. “Come here little one.”
(Y/N) let Grogu down and he began to waddle towards Din. The Mandalorian picked his youngling up and held him tightly, happy to have him back in his arms. As Din moved to remove his helmet, (Y/N) averted her eyes out of instinct.
The two had started as just travel partners. (Y/N) had joined the infamous Mandalorian to help catch his latest bounty at the time, as a way to repay him for saving her life. They started traveling together full time after that as they realized how well they worked together. They basically became an unstoppable team, feared by almost every bad guy in the galaxy.
The intention was never to gain romantic feelings. Din was serious to his oath to the Mandalore, and (Y/N) had been a lone traveler with no desire to change that. But when you travel with just one person for so long, it’s hard not to start feeling something.
The first time Din took his helmet off shocked (Y/N). She almost wasn’t sure how to react and tried to look away. Before she could, Din had taken her face in his hands and kissed her deeply, assuring her that he wanted her to see his face. The instinct to look away was still there, but she always had a sense of pride that Din trusted her enough to take the helmet off in front of her.
With Grogu distracted by his pseudo dad, (Y/N) took the opportunity to finally get herself something to eat. She placed some in front of Din as well, but he politely declined. “Not hungry right now.”
“Right, no appetite after missions,” (Y/N) commented, pretending she didn’t see Din slipping the food into his mouth when he thought she wasn’t looking. It was another routine the two had gotten used to.
A comfortable silence fell over them as (Y/N) ate and Din just sat with her, cradling Grogu who was happily coo-ing away in his arms. Eventually, the youngling began to fall asleep and (Y/N) felt that exhaustion wash over her as well.
While Din put Grogu to bed, (Y/N) changed into more comfortable clothing and climbed into the bed she shared with Din. It wasn’t a big bad as it was the one Din had gotten just for himself when he travelled alone, but that just meant they got to sleep closer together.
When Din entered, he was already shedding himself of his armor. (Y/N) smiled as he slipped under the covers next to her and took her into his arms. The warmth of his body engulfed her immediately and she couldn’t help but let out a happy sigh.
“I love to see you with him,” he told her. “You’re so good with him.”
“Ironic because I’m one of the most feared assassins in the galaxy,” (Y/N) joked. “I love the little guy. He’s the only child I can stand.”
The two chuckled, Din’s chest vibrating against (Y/N)’s ear as he did so. Silence fell over them as Din’s finger tips traced (Y/N)’s arms, leaving a trail of goosebumps as he did so. Her eyes were growing heavier and heavier, however Din speaking caused her to stir again.
“I never thought of having a family before,” he said, although it sounded more like he was speaking to himself than to her. “After taking the oath, it’s not like I could really have any kids.”
“My line of work isn’t exactly safe for children,” (Y/N) added. “Not to mention...”
Her sentence trailed off. Din gave her a slight squeeze as he kissed her forehead. When (Y/N) was taken in and raised by other assassins, she had to give up a lot in order to be one of them. Unfortunately, one of those things included her ability to have kids.
“Not that I’d be a good mother anyways,” she continued with a shrug. “I don’t have enough compassion for people.”
“You have compassion for me, and for Grogu,” Din reminded her.
“Grogu is not ‘people’. We don’t know what species he is,” she responded. “And you’re different. It feels like you’re the only one who understands what I’ve went through...what I’m going through.”
Din held her tightly. “I feel the same way about you.”
“I guess it does take a bounty hunter to truly understand an assassin.”
Din chuckled and kissed her forehead. (Y/N) cuddled closer to his chest, listening to his steady heartbeat. There was something about hearing it, about being so close to Din that she could sometimes feel his heart beating. It just reminded her that what was happening between them was real, that he was real.
“I wouldn’t trade anything for this unconventional family we have,” she mumbled. “Not even the ability to have my own kid. Although, I think it’d be pretty cool to have a mixture of both of our DNA running around.”
Din smiled at the thought. “I don’t know if that’d be a good idea or a bad one.”
“It’d be a bad ass kid for sure,” (Y/N) noted. “Man, we’d raise that kid to take no shit from anyone. It’d be more feared than either of us combined.”
She tried not to picture what she didn’t have, but (Y/N) couldn’t help but imagine what life would be like if she and Din were able to have their own kid, to live a life with that kid, maybe even with Grogu.
Her eyes began to grow heavy again. She kept those happy thoughts on her mind, hoping to dream about it as she began to drift off.
“Goodnight Din,” she whispered into the darkness.
“Goodnight, (Y/N). I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
DIN DJARIN X EARTHING!READER
WARNINGS: Still all fluff
WORD COUNT: 2500ish
SUMMARY: In an effort to keep Din’s son safe from Imps and bounty hunters, he sets a course for a far away galaxy.
On Earth, Din and Grogu have been taken in by gentle reader, and they go from bone broth and ration bars to gathering eggs and chopping wood for the first meal of the day.
Part 1 Part 2
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Looking at the clock on your bedside table, you groaned.
After showing Mando where the bathroom was, and how it all worked, then helping your guests set up the futon, you cleared the dishes and brushed your teeth a second time that night. A small laugh popped out.
"Are pumpkins small animals," you muttered with a mouth full of toothpaste. So cute.
You got gratefully back into bed, but the moment you put your head touched the pillow you were wide awake. You started thinking about how to hide the space craft, the Razor Crest, Mando had called it. You weren't sure if it was "a" Razor Crest, like a Ford Mustang, or "the" Razor Crest, like, the Bluesmobile. Thank the gods you decided not to go down that rabbit hole of awkward.
What the hell was wrong with me, you thought.
After that little tangent, your mind raced with thoughts of NASA and the government in general. They had to know, right? The Razor Crest couldn't have entered our atmosphere, let alone US air space without them knowing... should I expect a big plastic envelope encasing my home by tomorrow, remembering the scene from E.T. . .
You shook your head.
Relax, breath, sleep, think about it the morning.
But it was morning, sure an unacceptable hour in the morning but daybreak was coming sooner rather than later.
Then suddenly with some indignation you thought, did all my animals ditch me for the alien knight and his little green goblin??
You laughed at yourself and sighed.
It was fully morning before you knew it, you had only slept a couple hours. But once your eyes opened you knew you had to drag yourself out of bed. You pulled on jeans and your comfiest plaid flannel. You then pulled on wool socks and padded into the kitchen. You could hear scratching at the door to the art studio. You opened the door just enough to let all the animals come out, to preserve Mandos privacy, careful not look in.
"Good morning, Willow... Seamus... Tabitha" you said as they each came through the door. You were just about to shut it again when a little green hand came around the door.
"Oh! And good morning to you Grogu!" You switched to a whisper, "Is your dad still asleep?"Grogus waddled thought the door looking up at you, babbling and pointing into the room.
"Okay, well, we can let Mando sleep. Shall you and I will get the morning chores done? How does that sound?"
"Patu," the little one said, ears at attention.
"I'll take that as a yes, little one, let’s let Seamus do his business."
You scooped up the child and walked over to the front door, stepping into a pair of clogs you kept by the door. Seamus at your heels, as you stepped out into crisp morning, frost glittered over the grass and plants. "Brrrr, the temperature dropped like stone!" you shivered, quickly attaching Seamus' collar to the dog run. You slipped back inside to grab your coat, you wrapped a scarf around Grogu for good measure, then you headed to the hen house.
"These are hens, Grogu, they are laying eggs for us to eat!" Grogus ears went up and his eyes widened. You let out a little laugh. He reached out to them.
"Sure, you can pet them, gently, it is very important for us to show how thankful we are." You placed him on the floor of the small building, which was strewn with hay.
"Good morning, ladies," you said brightly, Grogu peered with interest at the waking chickens, feeling their soft feathers, he cooed with delight. You picked up your egg basket and dipped your hand under each hen gently.
"Thank you, Gerta. Thank you, Clara. Thank you, Amelia. And thank you, Eva!" You, then, handed a cup of grain to Grogu and took some yourself to show him how to pour it into their trough. He copied, then looked up at you, proud of himself. You booped his nose.
"Good job, buddy, I just need to give them fresh water."
You finished that task, scooped Grogu up again, who whined a little not wanting to leave his new friends. After opening the hen’s little door, so they could stretch their legs in the yard, you waltzed back into the house, Seamus followed, ready for breakfast.
You sang a silly song to Grogu about a baby bumblebee, as you entered the living room. Mando stock still, in his flight suit and helmet in the center of the room, causing you to jump in surprise. Grogu wriggled to get down, he pointed to the eggs and babbled excitedly, you imagined a fantastic story about the eggs and feeding the hens that laid them. Mando let out a breath of relief, "I didn't know-"
"I'm so sorry, I wanted to let you lie in. I should have-"
"No," Mando held up a hand. "Its fine."
You handed to basket to Grogu to show Mando. He waddled over to Din, his father knelt, and he showed Mando the 7 eggs, some blue, some ruddy, one speckled and white.
"You gathered these?" He asked the child. Grogu looked very pleased with himself. Din looked up at you, and found you gazing down at their sweet interaction with a wistful smile. You flushed a little. Din noticed and kindly turned attention to the eggs.
"These are for-"
"Breakfast," you smiled, "these do come from little animals."
Din chuckled, you warmed again.
"Breakfast?"
"The first and most important meal of the day!" You chirped, and because you can't seem to stop yourself, "I'm not sure if that's still considered true actually... it could have just been factory egg farm lobbyists..." you rolled your eyes and muttered, "capitalism."
I'm literally nuts, you think, rolling your eyes, as you went to feed your clamoring brood of animals. And still, you continued, "well, Egg Lobby or not, it's my favorite, and I have my own chickens so... suck it capitalism!"
"What is wrong with you," you groaned under your breath. You decided not to explain, that "breakfast" comes from the 15th century England, "to break your fast"... you internally give yourself a pat on the shoulder, for a job well done.
Din had no idea what you were talking about, except that "Breakfast" is first meal, that eggs were being served, the kid will like that, and that you were charming, wait what?
"Can I help?" Din asked, picking up the little one, holding him so he faced forward, Grogu continued to hold the basket. You took a mental picture.
"Um... sure, I am out of kindling", you said, pointing to the wood stove, "for the fire. Follow me." You led them outside to the axe yard. Din noticed you smell the air, and hum. "Smells like snow," you said mostly to yourself, despite the blue sky, "I'm not sure how much firewood chopping you do... um, whe- where you're from..."
"Me? Not much," Mando said, you could hear a smile. "Generally, if I make a fire, it's outside. With. Um. Branches, I just broke them. "
"Okay, it will be a breeze, you probably don’t really need me to… um, it’s all about confidence really," you told him as you put on your heavy leather gloves, grabbed your camp axe and a half round log. You placed it on a large chopping stump.
You explained the difference between splitting logs with the long-handled hamaxe and making kindling with a short-handled axe. You appreciate his rapt attention. So often you found explaining something like this to a man was difficult, even a guy who’s lived in a city his whole life and has no reason in the world to feel like it was a skill he should just know, seemed to get defensive. He's from outer freaking space, of course, he's not 'like other guys', you rolled your eyes at yourself.
You, then, demonstrated. You brought the axe up and swung down in a smooth confident motion, hitting the log, square in the center. It popped apart, in that satisfying way, maple tends to do. You loved it. The next piece you held with upright on the stump, then you didn’t swing, you let the weight of butt of the axe do the work, just letting it drop, so it stuck an inch into the log. You then lifted the axe, the log attached, and brought them both down hard and smooth onto the stump splitting it gain. Then two more times.
“Tada! It’s Kindling!!
Din placed the little one on the ground. You handed him your gloves, "these are more protective. For, um. This work. They are kind of too big for me... so" He took his gloves off, you noted his hands, wide, tan, double jointed thumbs, then he put on yours.
You picked up Grogu, so he wouldn't get under foot. "Watch from here, jellybean."
"Patu," he remarked. You nodded.
For Dins part, he appreciated how you taught. For all your tangents, (which for reasons he didn’t understand he thought was adorable) when you taught, you were very clear about what to do, more importantly how you wanted them and what you needed, all the while being warm and kind. He also, enjoyed watching you demonstrate, your fluid and powerful movement, and obvious enjoyment of simple things.
Din picked up the other 4th round and balanced it on the stump. He brought up the ax and brought down, it popped apart.
"Buurap!" Grogu cheered. You smiled.
"How much do you want?"
"Um, three logs will do us for the day. I'll go in and start. How well does Grogu listen?"
Mando huffed a laugh.
"Gotcha," you laughed. You grabbed the kindling you made to get the fire started, "I'll bring him in then, so you don't have to worry about where he is."
Din watched you go into the cottage with Grogu. He listened to the birds and prepared to split the next log with a smile. He was anxious when he woke, and his foundling was missing. But he felt a strange stirring when you came in with him in your arms, singing a little song to him.
As you walked inside with Grogu now, he felt at ease, his trust in you surprised him. He was enjoying being out in the yard, the air was fragrant, crisp, the sky was a pleasing blue with puffy clouds... but he felt a pull to finish up and get inside with you and the child. He also felt a pull to do more for you. So, he after he finished the kindling, he started, chopping some of the whole logs with the long axe.
He weighed the axe his hands, thinking about you doing this work. He was both impressed and ... well, he brushed whatever that other thought was before it becoming fully formed, something involving asking you to demonstrate.
Inside, you had set the little one up in the living room with some toys, and walked into the kitchen knowing you could check in on him easily. He whimpered when you walked away. So, you went around the doorway and then peeked around the corner, "Hi Grogu!" Showing him, you were right there. He smiled, seemingly at ease and began playing with, what was now, his stuffed rabbit.
As you turned you looked out kitchen window that looks out on the axe yard, you stopped short.
Din was now using the long-handled ax splitting whole logs. You were just about to say, how sweet and helpful he was, Aw... but his arms came up over his head, you noted his trim waist and broad shoulders, then he brought the ax down hard and gracefully.
Shit.
You prided yourself on your self-sufficiency, and didn’t get all melty at muscles for muscles sake, but you felt... you shook your head and muttered, "okay cave person DNA, calm the hell down. You are evolved. Sheesh."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
You were singing again when Din walked in, the kindling in his arms. He stopped, listening. It was a pretty song, about stars and colors, your voice sweet and free of self-consciousness. Grogu was playing with toys living room, the animals sleeping close to him, he leaned on Seamus.
Din listened to you, and watched the kid, arms full of wood. He could smell the delicious smell of your cooking, which he already felt a preference for, even though he has only sampled the two soups from last night.
He wanted to see, smell and hear everything here, without his helmet. What is the matter with you, Djarin??
You crossed the kitchen to the table, you looked into the living room to check on the little one, seeing Mando through the doorway, "Hey, you’re back!" You registered he seemed rooted to the spot, not unlike last night. "What- are you okay?"
"Yeah, I- you- your kindling?" He grimaced, now, quite relieved the helmet was in place.
You smiled warmly, "thank you for that, there's a wooden crate behind you, just plop it in there. Breakfast is almost ready, if you want to put Grogu in his seat."
His seat, Din thought warmly. He groaned internally at these thoughts and feelings.
You met, this person, last night nerf herder, relax.
He picked up Grogu, and brought him to the sink to wash hands. "Time to eat, buddy, today you're allowed to eat eggs." He gently washed Grogus hands within his own.
The table was already set for three. You set out several serving platters, bacon, eggs with cheese, spinach and mushrooms, home fries, a bowl of cut fruit, and a stack of toast. You grabbed a French press of coffee and a carafe of orange juice and sat down.
Din looked at all the food, and then you.
"I got carried away," you said apologetically, "it's my favorite and it’s my day off sooo..." Remembering his helmet, you hastily added, "don't feel bad about making yourself a plate and going into your room. We can talk through the door, you can sit at the sewing table, it's right by the door.” You got up and pulled a tray from a cabinet, so he could bring his plate and drinks in with ease.
After Din shut the door, you began helping Grogu eat, but after a taste, he dug in himself. A moment later you heard Din hum, "everything tastes so good."
"Thank you," Din wanted to stay, but that seemed like as good a compromise as anything. He loaded Grogus plate with a little of everything and then made up his own plate, poured his coffee. You added a small glass of orange juice and placed the cream and sugar other tray, "if you don't like your coffee black. Add a little cream and sugar a little at a time until it’s to your liking." He nodded and went into the other room, you had called it his room, and shut the door. He thought about how you, despite the adorable awkwardness, were so at ease, sharing you space with them. You truly acted like your house was his house the moment you invited him and the kid in.
You smiled as you sipped your coffee. Then you remembered NASA...
@its--fandom--darling @seasonschange-butpeopledont
@lexi-b-writes
@pedro4ever
@oloreaa
@darthmama1618
Read You Like a Book - Rover
Pairing: Marcus Pike x Fem!Reader/OFC (Anne)
Word Count: 4.9K
Content: FLUFF, Talking, Slight Angst, Feelings, Kissing, Marcus Pike on a Date is his own warning, Brief references to injury (Not Main Character)
Summary: Marcus Pike gets his chance to be a main character, and for that matter, so do you. Let’s solve some crime.
A/N: Unbeta’d. Alright, it’s date night, but we are splitting this thing into two parts. Here is part one where the two cuties get to talk (at last). This is nearly 5K of fluff so buckle up your feels. Also, I used to think this fic would be about 20 chapters. I think it’s going to be more now, but I don’t know exactly how many. It’s up to the fab four. Thank you for reading!
Special Note: There is a song that comes into play towards the end of this chapter, and I’ve posted the audio at the bottom.
Masterlist | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10
As you stepped out onto the sidewalk still holding Marcus’s hand, he automatically started guiding you in the direction of his car parked across the street. You gave him a gentle tug in the other direction, and he paused.
“It’s only about a 15-minute walk,” you said. “It’s not too cold out.”
“You sure?” Marcus asked. “I can drive if—”
“It’s a nice walk.” You gave him an inviting smile.
He relented at once. “Lead the way.”
You kept your hand in his as you started walking north, perfectly at ease even in the dim street lights. You passed the first couple blocks in companionable silence, and before long the buildings to your right stopped, replaced by parks lined up along the lakefront. It was quiet, except for the occasional car, so different from the buzz and thrum of downtown.
“It’s nice here,” Marcus said, looking out towards the moonlit lake. “I feel like I spend all my time in cities anymore. You kind of stop hearing the noise after a while. Then you go someplace quiet, and you remember.”
“Did you grow up in the city?”
“No, I grew up in a small town outside Dallas.”
“Ohhhh, so you’re a country boy,” you teased.
“Yes, ma’am,” he said with a smile.
“How did you end up in DC?”
“You want the long version or the short version?”
You gave his hand a small squeeze. “Give me the long version. How does Marcus Pike go from small-town Texas to big FBI guy in DC?”
Marcus grinned. “Well, I always wanted to be in law enforcement. My dad was a police officer. He’s a good man. I guess I just always wanted to be like him.”
You pictured a small Marcus running around with a fake police badge, playing hero until he was old enough to be the real deal. The image made your heart ache.
“I wanted to get out and see new places, and I liked the idea of a big city,” Marcus continued, and you nodded, understanding deeply the restlessness a small town could instill. “When I started looking at colleges, I applied to NYU and was accepted into their criminology program.”
“Let me guess, you were an excellent student.”
“I did alright,” Marcus replied, one side of his mouth turning up.
“Dean’s List?”
“Every semester,” he said with pride.
“I knew it.”
“Are you telling me that you were any different?” He said with teasing disbelief. “No one who dedicates that much of their home to books is passive about learning.”
You laughed. “I did okay, too.” You smiled up at him. “But I took a longer route and a couple majors figuring out what I wanted to do.”
“Nothing wrong with that,” he squeezed your hand as you had his. “Some people never figure out what they want.”
You glanced at him. “I take it you're not one of those people though, are you, Marcus?”
“Nope,” he answered, his tone light. He stopped walking, let you get a step or so in front of him before pulling you back. “I know exactly what I want.”
He kissed you underneath the low streetlight, the hand that held yours caught in between you as his other hand cupped your face and slid into your hair. Your free hand rested on his arm, gripped his bicep through his leather jacket, knowing that the soft material concealed hard muscle underneath. You felt Marcus’s tongue against your lips and opened for him, willingly offering whatever he wanted.
“Why did we leave the apartment again?” Marcus questioned after a few dizzying moments, then took the kiss deeper and made it impossible for you to answer.
“Because you wanted to take me to dinner,” you reminded him when you could breathe again, letting him know your predicament was his fault.
“That’s right.” He sighed, pressing his forehead to yours. “I do want to do that, too.”
“I know,” you said with a laugh. “You even set an alarm.”
He still had his hand in the hair at the nape of your neck and was caressing the back of your captured hand with his thumb. “I like to be prepared.”
“You were a boy scout, too, weren’t you?”
“Eagle Scout,” he answered. You laughed and leaned in to give him a quick kiss before moving to pull away. “Wait.” The hand behind your head applied a gentle pressure that kept you in place. “One more.”
Once you had resumed your journey, you wanted to resume your conversation, too. “So, before you distracted me—” He smirked. “You were telling me you got your degree in New York. Did you like living there?”
“It was alright.” He shrugged. “Good pizza, at least.”
“Oh no,” you said, aggrieved. “Am I going to have to convince you that Chicago-style is the superior pizza?”
“Not even you could convince me of that.”
“We’ll see.” You shot him a mischievous grin, looked at him to continue.
“So, yeah, I moved to New York, I got my degree…” He took a long pause. “Got married.”
“Oh.” You weren’t shocked someone had snapped him up, but what did surprise you was the spike of possessiveness that flared through you. You hadn’t even known him for more than a week, had spent most of that time thinking you’d never see him again. But all the same, you wanted to have a claim on him.
“Yeah, we were young, and I thought…Well, it—It didn’t work out.” He raked his hand through his hair and chewed on his bottom lip in a nervous gesture. “Sorry, you don’t want to hear about this.”
Worried that your silence and expression had given him the wrong idea, you gave his hand a gentle squeeze of reassurance before letting go to thread your arm around his waist. You nestled into his side, which seemed to ease the tension in his frame. “No, I want to hear whatever you want to tell me.”
“Okay, well,” Marcus wrapped his arm around you, keeping you secured to his side. “I was supposed to start my grad program at NYU following graduation, but my dad got hurt on the job. Some stupid, desperate kid trying to rob a convenience store. My dad tried to talk him down, but the kid panicked and fired. He struck my dad in the side. Could’ve been a lot worse, but he was still on disability for a while.”
You let your head fall to lean against him, letting him know you were listening as you waited for him to continue.
“My mom was trying to work and to take care of him and my three sisters, and I wanted to be able to help out, which I couldn’t from across the country.” Marcus’s brow creased, seemingly still stressed from the memory. “I transferred to University of North Texas so I could live at home. Jenn—my ex wanted to stay in New York.” Marcus took a deep breath. “About six months later she called me and told me she wanted a divorce. Felt like we wanted different things and that I wasn’t there for her like she needed. I had tried going back to New York as much as I could to visit, but I know that wasn’t enough.”
Your heart cracked at the thought of Marcus trying to balance all those different burdens and feeling like he came up short. You stopped walking, and Marcus seemed hesitant to look at you.
“Hey,” you called to him. He looked down at you, and the naked vulnerability in his eyes made your stomach flip. You turned into him so you could wrap both of your arms around him as you met his gaze. “You did a good thing…being there for your family. I’m sorry you went through that, and I’m sorry you had to do it alone.” He let out a heavy sigh, kissed the top of your head, took a big breath in.
“Thank you,” he murmured into your hair, his tone genuine. You didn’t let go until he did.
“How’s your dad now?” You asked him when you both started walking again.
“He’s good,” Marcus smiled fondly. “Retired now. My mom and my sisters keep him out of trouble for the most part.”
“Does everyone else still live in Texas?”
“Yeah, I think I’m really the only one in my family that left. Honestly, after New York, I thought I’d end up staying, too. I joined the Dallas Police after I graduated, and thought I’d work my way up the chain.”
Even after what happened to his dad. You felt a little sick at the thought of Marcus getting hurt on the job. How often was he in harm's way hoping his luck would hold out?
“But,” Marcus continued, bringing you back out of your thoughts, “I was recruited by the FBI for the Dallas Field Office during my third year, and I took them up on it.”
You wondered how exceptional you had to be recruited by the FBI, were willing to bet very.
“I worked in a few different areas just out of training. You know, paid my dues, and after a few years, they assigned me to art crimes. They were starting a new team out of the Dallas office. I wasn’t sure I’d like it at first, but I’ve enjoyed the work.”
A little while back, you’d turned with the sidewalk, started walking away from the lake, and were now coming up on a strip of local restaurants and businesses.
Marcus paused speaking for a while, taking in his surroundings again and seemingly lost in thought, until he finally continued, “I transferred to the DC office two years ago when they asked me to head up their international team, and I’ve been there since—well, I travel a lot. Honestly, I’m on the road more than I’m home.”
And this is just another one of his stops. You bit back the sudden anxiety. Of course, you knew that. You’d asked him how long his cases usually lasted that night in your apartment, and he’d said sometimes it was months. You could enjoy it while it lasted, right? Enjoy him while you could?
Pushing your own thoughts away, you returned to him, “Do you like the traveling?”
He shrugged a bit. “I did at first, kept me busy, but I think after a while…” He trailed off, looked down at you, and smiled. “Bet you’re wishing you’d asked for the short version.”
“Mmm, no way. I like listening to you.” He gave your shoulders a gentle squeeze.
As you reached the well-lit row of businesses, the sidewalks became more crowded with people entering and leaving their favorite Saturday night haunts. Yours was still a few doors up, but you could already hear the sounds of music pouring out of the entrance. You stepped away from Marcus, capturing his hand again as you did, so you could lead him into the dependable warmth of Trinity Pub.
****
“Hey, Anne! Where’ve you been all week?” Came a shout from behind the bar as soon as you and Marcus were inside. The dark wood bar-top gleamed in the low light, much like the mirrored rows of bottles at the back. A similarly stained wood traveled up the sides of the room and across the ceiling in beams, standing out against dark walls that carried photos of both patrons and Ireland.
“Hey, Eric! Been in the city all week actually,” you answered back over the noise of music and conversation, greeting him as an old friend. He nodded as he polished a pint glass. His long hair was tied back in a knot, his full beard neatly trimmed and close to the color of the bar he stood behind.
“Ah, well, I’m sorry for you, but perhaps not all was lost,” Eric said grinning, his Irish accent coming through. “Is that where you picked up your friend here? Or was it vice-versa?”
“Actually, was a bit of both,” you shot Marcus a sly grin over your shoulder, and he grinned back at the direction your mind had gone. “Marcus, this is Eric. Eric, Marcus.”
Marcus exchanged a friendly nod.
“Anne, not that your friend here isn’t grand, but when are you going to be bringing back that one you had in here last week?”
Marcus tensed a bit before he felt you give his hand a comforting squeeze.
“You’ll never get Leah out of the city, Eric,” you warned, and Marcus relaxed again, understanding. “You might as well let it go.”
“Never,” Eric said with a laugh. “Marcus, sir, how about a drink?”
Few things sounded better. “What do you recommend?”
“Well now, you can never go wrong with a pint, but if you’re spending time in the company of this one,” Eric gestured at you fondly. “I’d say whiskey.”
Marcus laughed, liking Eric’s good humor. “Whiskey, neat, then.”
“Good man,” Eric said approvingly. As he went to grab a bottle of whiskey off the shelf, Eric took a look at a clipboard hung above the cash register. “I see you’ve got a table already. That’s good as it’s going to be a bit of a madhouse tonight. I’ll tell them to get you two set up in the snug. It’ll be quieter in there.”
Eric slid a glass of whiskey in Marcus’s direction, shouted a quick instruction to one of the staff, then quickly filled a tall glass of hard cider that he sent in your direction.
“Go ahead on back,” he said before moving back to the taps. “But come out for music later. Good group tonight.”
“Thanks, Eric,” you grabbed your drink in your free hand, still gripping Marcus in the other, and headed for the back, passing happy families and friends as you went. Marcus noted that there were already a few musicians set up along the right wall, tables pushed out to accommodate.
You ducked into the back room where there were only a few tables here and there. You snagged the one that was in the deepest corner, likely to be the quietest and the most private.
Marcus stepped forward to pull out your chair and made sure you were settled before he took the one opposite you at the small round table. He stared at you with open curiosity, trying to line up all the different pieces that he’d learned in his mind.
“What?” You asked, smiling shyly as you took off your coat.
Marcus took a sip of his whiskey, sat back. “So not only are you a woman who asks to be taken to a pub on a first date, but you are also a woman that is a regular at said pub?”
“Oh,” you laughed, “well, I like to come here to listen to the music or when I want to get out a bit. It’s pretty quiet during the day, so sometimes I just come here to work.”
Marcus glanced around, taking in the atmosphere, all the pictures and prints. He wondered if any were yours. “I can see why you like it. It feels homey.”
“Yeah, reminds me of my time in Ireland.” Marcus nodded, having already guessed as much.
“Were you there for a long time?”
“About six months. I’d been out of school for a while and had been saving up to travel. While I hopped around, I picked up odd jobs here and there…sold pictures to news outlets and travel websites, even sold some prints on the street. Of all the places I went, though, Ireland was my favorite.”
“I would place a safe bet,” Marcus said, taking in your red hair and visible freckles, “that some of that is in the blood.”
You nodded in confirmation as you took a sip of your drink. “You are correct there. My grandma is from Ireland, and my mom always was very into our heritage, used to cook the dishes and play music all the time. She even signed me up for step dancing.” You laughed, but Marcus had an endearing image of a tiny you, curls flying as you danced, that made him smile.
“I was not good at it. I did learn to play an instrument though.”
“Oh?” Marcus leaned forward again at that. “What do you play?”
“Violin.”
“Very nice,” Marcus said, impressed. “I used to play myself—not violin—but bass. And some vocals.”
“Marcus Pike was in a band.” Your eyes shone with good-natured teasing. “Be still my heart.”
Marcus winked at you before taking another sip of his whiskey. “So was Ireland the last place you were before you came back?”
“No, I was in London, too, for a few years.” The humor went out of your eyes as you looked down at the table, playing with your glass. “I didn’t care for it.”
He wanted to ask about London, but he didn’t want to push you before you were ready, nor did he feel he could ask when he hadn’t been completely forthcoming with his own past. When he’d mentioned moving to DC, he’d skipped over his failed engagement, not wanting to admit to two train wrecks in the span of 15 minutes and have you wonder what was wrong with him.
I’ll tell her at some point.
Wanting to see you untroubled again, he asked instead, “Why Chicago?”
You perked back up, shaking away the darkness that had temporarily colored your face. “Leah,” you said simply.
“She was already here running the store, and I knew it would be a place I could get work as a photographer. It’s been a good change.” You took a long sip of your cider, looked at him conspiratorially. “Speaking of…your partner was texting her for a date when I was with her this morning.”
Marcus laughed. “Of course, he was. You don’t need to worry about Leah with Sam. He talks a big game, but he’s a good guy.”
“Leah isn’t the one I’m worried about,” you said with a smirk.
“Oh?” Marcus tried to picture Sam being knocked off his game, found he quite enjoyed the idea.
“Yeah, don’t be surprised if Sam is lovestruck by Monday. Leah has that effect on people.”
She’s not the only one. Marcus let his eyes trail over you. You looked beautiful sitting there in the low light, your hair long and loose, your navy sweater drifting down over your right shoulder, your eyes dancing with fun, your full mouth caught in an easy smile. The whole picture was so inviting that Marcus was about to lean in when a server appeared.
“What can I get you?”
Some time alone with this woman. Marcus bit back an irritated sigh, and it was clear from the amused expression on your face that you knew what he’d been thinking.
Going on your recommendation instead of a frantic scan of the menu, Marcus opted for fish and chips while you ordered salmon. You’d said the shepherd’s pie was also delicious, but that it made you want to take a nap, which prompted Marcus to make a comment suggesting he had ways to keep you up. You’d blushed, but Marcus didn’t think it was out of embarrassment.
By the time food arrived, you’d fallen into easy conversation, trading childhood stories, music tastes (you were able to agree on Queen and AC/DC), and favorite places to visit. Marcus’s work had taken him to many of the same places you had once visited, and he couldn’t help but think how much more he would have enjoyed them in your company. He steered clear of any mentions of the time he’d spend in London, however, and he couldn’t help but notice you did, too.
As the evening progressed, both of you had taken turns scooting your chairs closer until eventually, you were side-by-side, all the easier for Marcus and for you to snag bites off of each other’s plates.
Marcus loved food, and your recommendation for the pub had been a good one, not that he had doubted you. He’d kept an eye on the dishes that were being brought in for the other tables, and at one point, he’d snagged an abandoned menu to truly peruse the full offering. After he had begun commenting on other things that sounded good, he was admittedly thrilled when you said, “We can get those next time.” He’d stolen back one of the fries that had been on its way to your mouth, given you a taste of him instead.
“So you’re telling me you’ll go on a second date with me?” He asked after with a cocky grin, still mere inches from you.
You smiled, ran your fingers down his jawline, and scratched softly at his beard in that way that made him want to groan. “I’d consider it,” you said seriously but the twinkle in your eyes gave you away, “I’m happy to be further persuaded though.” It was an invitation that Marcus didn’t need extended more than once.
Eventually, the food was cleared, the other tables emptied, and all that was left in the room was you and Marcus, caught up in one another again with the surrounding world blurring into the background. Marcus couldn’t remember ever having more fun on a date. In the past, he’d always ended up taking the women he was seeing to fancy restaurants, feeling like he needed to present himself a certain way while wishing he wasn’t in yet another suit. But much like the roses in the supermarket, that just wasn’t your style, and with you, Marcus was finally on a date as himself.
A pleasant buzz had been in his blood for the past few hours, one that had nothing to do with the whiskey or the beer. Nor did it have anything to do with the cider he could taste on your tongue. You were intoxicating enough on your own.
He’d been about to ask you if you were ready to go, not sure he could withstand the urge to move his mouth or his hands to places less suitable for public for one more minute when a familiar face popped around the corner.
“Anne!” Eric said, and you startled before shooting the intruder a withering look. You were very nearly on Marcus’s lap and your faces were still close enough that your hair brushed Marcus’s face as you turned. Not that he minded much.
“Anne, first off, I will remind you that this is a family place,” Eric said from the doorway.
“The room is empty,” you countered. “Or at least it was.”
“Well, all the same, if you could disentangle yourself from your man there, we’ve had several requests for ‘Rover.’”
Marcus realized what was happening as you shook your head. He’s asking her to play. This I have to see.
“No, I don’t even have my violin.”
“Sarah says you can use hers as she’s ready for a break.”
“Eric, I’m kind of in the middle of somethi—”
“I want to see you play,” Marcus encouraged, and Eric gave him another approving nod.
“You definitely do, Marcus. See, Anne, he’s game. Your crowd awaits.”
Marcus caught your gaze, noticed the way you looked suddenly nervous. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to, but I’d love to hear you.”
“Alright,” you agreed after considering further, “but I’ll be expecting a performance later as well.”
“Count on it,” Marcus said, infusing his response with a double meaning that he knew you would catch. You rolled your eyes at him, smiled, and grabbed his hand to pull him behind you, past Eric, and out into the main room.
The sound of lively music, clapping, and stomping was overpowering once you and Marcus had emerged from the far back corner of the snug. Marcus noticed that most of the tables had now been pushed further towards the back wall, with only a few patrons still seated. Most of the onlookers, as well as the majority of the musicians were up on their feet, enthusiastically participating in what Marcus suspected must be a regular tune on Saturday nights. The atmosphere was electric, and Marcus couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face as you weaved with him into the room.
Just as the song stopped and clapping erupted, you squeezed his hand and let go, silently directing him to stay put in the spot near the front you had secured for him. You walked away from him then, towards a woman standing apart from the rest of the group. She greeted you warmly and handed you her violin after a quick hug.
Eric stepped up to the lone microphone. “Alright, alright, our next song by popular demand will be ‘Rover.’” There were some enthusiastic shouts from the assembled crowd, and Eric held up his hand for silence. “Now, everyone make sure to thank Anne afterwardsfor her participation.” Eric gestured to where you had came to stand to his left. “She pulled herself away from her handsome man Marcus here in order to play for you all,” Eric winked in Marcus’s direction as another chorus of enthusiastic shouting broke out. “So make sure to thank him as well.”
Marcus received more than a few claps on the back and smiled broadly.
“Alright, here we go, three, two…” Eric’s counting faded away as you and another musician leapt into the opening notes of the song. The melody was quick, soaring, and rhythmic in a way that immediately encouraged people to clap and stomp along. But Marcus was immediately captivated by the way you looked as you played, your body moving in time with the music, your hair flying as you moved through the notes.
Eric stepped closer to the microphone and began to sing in a low baritone:
“Though the night be dark as dungeon, not a star to be seen above
I will be guided without a stumble, into the arms of me only love.
I went up to her bedroom window, kneeling gently upon a stone
I rapped on her bedroom window "My darling dear, do you lie alone”?"
As the song turned into the chorus, Marcus realized quickly that you were playing a drinking song, one that everyone in his vicinity knew well as they joined in on the next several lines, feet still stomping, and glasses raised.
“I'm a rover, seldom sober
I'm a rover of high degree
And when I'm drinking, I'm always thinking
How to gain my love's company.”
Your eyes met Marcus’s as the other instruments quieted, and you took center. You shot him a wink as you moved expertly over the strings.
“She raised her head up from her feather pillow, raised her arms up around her breast,
Saying ‘Who's at me bedroom window, disturbing me at me long night's rest?’
‘It’s only me, your own true lover, open the door and please let me in.
For I have come on a long night's journey. I am near drenched to the skin.’”
Just as the song was about to move once again into the chorus, Marcus found himself being passed a pint, someone having noticed that he was without one and looking to rectify the situation. He smiled in thanks and nodded. When the chorus came back around, Marcus listened carefully to learn the words.
“I'm a rover, seldom sober
I'm a rover of high degree
And when I'm drinking, I'm always thinking
How to gain my love's company.”
You slid into the next part, your talent and your joy at playing evident on your face. Marcus couldn’t get enough, and if he hadn’t already known he was a goner, he would’ve at that moment.
“She opened the door with the greatest pleasure, opened the door and she let me in
We both shook hands and embraced each other. 'Til the morning we lay as one.
‘Well now me love, I must go and leave you, though the mountains be high above
Well, I will climb them with greater pleasure that I have been with me only love.’”
The song moved into the final chorus, and this time Marcus raised his glass and joined in.
“I'm a rover, seldom sober
I'm a rover of high degree
And when I'm drinking, I'm always thinking
How to gain my love's company."
“I'm a rover, seldom sober
I'm a rover of high degree
And when I'm drinking, I'm always thinking
How to gain my love's company.”
Marcus whistled as you played out the last notes of the song, you and your instrument weaving through it. He joined in with the applause as soon as the song was done.
Laughing and smiling, you took a quick bow before returning the violin to its owner. Marcus then watched you with rapt attention and complete adoration as you walked straight up to him, fisted your hand in his shirt, pulled him down to you, and kissed him, right there in front of a packed pub. There might have been some appreciative whistles, but Marcus’s world had once again narrowed down to you.
When you pulled back, you gave him a suggestive smile that sent his heart rate skyrocketing. “Let’s get out of here.”
Tags (let me know if you would like to be added or removed):
@alliterative-albatross @asta-lily @yespolkadotkitty @the-feckless-wonder @wyofabdoms @theredwritingwitch @bison-writes @perropascal @thirstworldproblemss @a-skov @hopeamarsu @danniburgh @likes-good-reblogs-even-better @irish-girl-61 @sarahjkl82-blog @feminist-violinist @fan-of-encouragement @310ra @giselatropicana
I’m starting to get really fed up with the lack of tagging in this fandom, so here’s a quick explanation as to why it’s so important to tag your female reader fics as female reader.
1- This should be common knowledge, but apparently not: not every person who reads fanfic is female.
It’s become standard to assume readers are female. And honestly, it’s just flat out disrespectful. It shows us non-female readers that you don’t care enough about our comfort in the fandom to do something as simple as put “character x F!reader” instead of “Character x reader”. It's incredibly othering and disrespectful towards those of us who are not female.
2- “Reader” can easily be assumed to be gender neutral.
It very rarely is, but there’s no way of knowing whether something is going to be gender neutral or not if you don’t tag it. It’s INCREDIBLY frustrating to start a fic and find out a few paragraphs in (or worse, halfway through), that it’s female reader. Not only is it frustrating, it can be triggering to some people: it can trigger gender dysphoria in trans people, bring up trauma from cis male readers that may have experience abuse related to their sexual orientation, and many, many more people.
3- It’s harmful to trans people.
Many AFAB trans people (trans men and AFAB non-binary people) experience gender dysphoria. It’s seen as incredibly dehumanising to misgender a trans person, and that’s essentially what you’re doing by assuming that all readers are female. At best, misgendering a trans person reminds them they don’t fit the cishet expectation society has of them. At worse, it triggers extreme feelings of gender dysphoria, memories of past (and current) abuse, and reminds us that representation is a luxury we rarely experience. It’s not just the pronouns either; sometimes I’ll read a fic and it’ll describe body parts that trigger my gender dysphoria (breasts, hips, reproductive parts, etc.). As a cis person reading this, it might not seem like a big deal. But trust me: it’s a huge deal. Being misgendered takes a HUGE toll on a trans person’s mental health. We spent a huge part of our lives being misgendered, pretending to be someone we’re not, and to read a self-insert fic and have the reader be gendered as female reminds us of the time when our lives were at the lowest. Trans people who don’t pass as their gender identity, who are non-binary, or who cannot transition, are misgendered all day, every day, and for many of us, fandom is the only escape… until we’re trying to read a fic and are misgendered there too.
It’s not as simple as “it’s not for us”. For me, it’s sometimes an inconvenience. Other days, it triggers my dysphoria so bad I totally shut down and can’t function for hours on end. And my gender dysphoria is much less intense than many trans people’s.
4- It’s not difficult.
It’s just not. It’s as simple as putting “f!reader” at the top of your fic. If you want to be extra awesome, you can put it in the tags too. Not doing it shows that you’re too lazy to respect people who aren’t comfortable reading female reader fics.
5- It’s a waste of our time.
You’re not getting any extra notes by doing this. You’re just not. If anything, you’re losing prospective readers. As a non-binary person, I occasionally read f!reader fics. But if I can’t mentally prepare for it in advance, I’m not going to be able to finish reading. Those of us who can’t read any female reader fics won’t be very likely to read any of your other fics, even if those are actually gender neutral. So we have to get partway through reading a fic that isn’t for us when we could have just scrolled past it. You’re proving to non-female readers that your blog isn’t a safe space for us, and it’s very unlikely you’ll get a second chance from that reader.
Please know: I’m not trying to personally attack anyone. If you didn’t know it was harmful, that’s okay, just start tagging your fics. It’s not difficult, and it means the world to non-female readers. I'm trying to be as polite and patient as I can with this, but I'm getting to the point where I'm done asking nicely. It's pushing a lot of people out of the fandom, and honestly I'm tempted to leave tumblr myself because of it.
You don't have to write for male or gender neutral readers, but telling people the reader is intended to be female is not optional.
Not my image but look at Max Philips posting on IG 🤣🤣🤣😍😍😍 that’s my comment by the way on Pinterest feel free to follow 🤣🤣🤣
Honestly I feel like this picture of Pedro is rarely seen
Awards Presenter Pedro Pascal attends the British Academy Film Awards 2021 at the Royal Albert Hall on April 11, in London.
Find someone who looks at you like the way Grogu looks at food.
cap-that.com
Ok so I watched The Great Wall tonight...and let me TELL YOU 😳 im in love...this is how it went down:
Me before watching the movie: im not going to fall in love with Pero Tovar because I have to remain loyal to my baby Frankie.
4 seconds into the movie: um so I've planned a wedding and I will do anything to bear this mans children :)
