#my dearest Mindy ❤️ | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

pedrito-friskito · 1 year

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dearest kay ❤️ happy sleepover!

i'm so glad you're feeling better now, it's awful being sick, especially at this time of year when it's so dark and cold too

i'd like to know, of all the boys you write for, who would you most like to take care of you when you're sick?

although we don't celebrate thanksgiving here, in the spirit of the holiday i just want to say how thankful i am to have met you here, you and all the other friends i've made this year, i really don't know what i'd do without you 🥰

mindi my darling! thank you!

ugh it’s truly the worst, but so grateful to be feeling good enough now to work on such lovely things for my lovely friends ♥️

this was a hard decision! I definitely toyed with a few others (Steve Rogers, Frankie Morales, Eddie Munson), but there’s just something about Marcus Pike that is just so comforting and so I chose him! (this is very self indulgent, very fluffy, exactly what I could have used when I was down for the count…!)

mindi you are the SWEETEST and I’m teary reading this. I too am the most thankful for the beautiful friends that live in my phone 🥰 I don’t know what I’d do without YOU! ♥️

requests are open until saturday midnight!

making a fuss

(word count 1.1k)

There’s a knock at your door.

The sound makes your head hurt, heaving yourself up off the couch, keeping your blanket wrapped tight around your shoulders like a second skin. You have to sift your way through the mountain of discarded tissues on the floor, some of them making their way under the couch as you wobbles towards the door. Each step seems to reverberate through your whole body, your ears ringing and your head throbbing. Honestly, who is knocking at your door? You told everyone you were sick, sending your friend group chat a myriad of sneezing emojis, and you’d cancelled your plans with—

“Marcus?”

He’s standing on the other side of the door, a large brown paper bag in one hand, a plastic one from the drugstore in the other, duffle slung over his shoulder. He steps in as soon as you move to the side to let him pass, the door swinging shut behind him. “Go and lie back down,” he says, moving both bags to one hand so he can brush your hair from your face, leaning in to kiss your forehead. “Right now.”

Confused, you do as he says, waddling back to the cocoon you’d made on the couch. He gets right to work; you can hear him moving around in the kitchen, the tell-tale screech of your kettle reaching your ears a few minutes later. He breezes past you once, only to drop his overnight bag in your bedroom, before he heads back to the kitchen, emerging a moment later with a tray laden with a few bottles of water, a big bowl of what looks like soup, your favourite mug filled with what you assume to be tea, a box of cold meds, lozenges, and those fancy tissues with lotion that don’t dry out your nose from blowing all the time.

Marcus perches beside you on the couch, handing you one of the bottles of water and the cold meds first. “Here, take this,” he instructs. You do as your told, wincing as you swallow the pills. He gives you the cup of tea next, murmuring to you that it’s hot, making sure you have a good grip on it before he lets it go.

“What is this?” you ask, blowing over the liquid, inhaling the steam deeply. It smells like honey and mint and something else you can’t quite place.

“Ginger tea. My sister swears by it; it kept me alive the last time I had the flu. It’ll help, trust me.”

You just nod, taking a sip. He gets up a moment later, snagging your trash bin from the corner of the living room, starting to round up your tissues. “Marcus,” you start, moving to get up, setting the tea on the coffee table, “stop, you don’t have to do that. I’ll deal with it later.”

He shakes his head. “Nonsense. Lie down, and drink your tea.”

“But you—”

He reaches out, cups your chin in his hand, thumb swiping at your cheek. “Honey, you’re sick. Let me take care of you, all right?”

“I don’t want you to make a fuss,” you sigh, sinking back into a couch, though your head thanks you for it. “And I don’t want to get you sick.”

“Stop,” he chides, leaning down to kiss the top of your head. “I like to make a fuss.”

You sink back further, your eyes following as he cleans up. He disappears back into the kitchen after a while, and you can hear him tackling the stack of dishes you’d let pile up beside the sink. What on earth did you do to deserve a man like this? Like him?

You can feel yourself start to drift as the cold meds kick in, sipping at the tea that feels like heaven on your sore throat. You try some of the soup too, but the tray is too heavy to lift, so you abandon it, sinking deeper into the cushions.

Marcus reappears sometime later — you’re not quite sure how much time has passed — and makes himself comfortable at your feet, lifting your legs into your lap. You make a noise of protest when he peels off once of your socks, but his thumbs press into your arch a moment later and any further objections die on your tongue. It’s the weirdest thing; he massages your little toes, and you can feel your sinuses clearing slightly.

“Where did you learn that?” you mumble out, drunk off the comfort he’s offering. “Why are you so good to me?”

“It’s Chinese medicine,” he grins, continuing his massage, working the rest of your foot, seeming to be drawing out all the aches of your body through the soles of your feet. He goes silent after that, his brow pinching as he concentrates.

“You didn’t answer my other question,” you nearly slur, your head rolling back on the cushions. “I asked you two questions.”

His cheeks go red, and he smiles, one hand moving up your leg, fingers curling loose around your ankle. “I’m good to you because you’re good to me,” he says softly, rubbing at your anklebone, “and I like you…a lot.”

Your eyes flutter shut as he keeps rubbing at your skin. “I like you too, Marcus.”

You pass out a few minutes later, sinking into a dreamless sleep spurred by the cold meds. You come to sometime later, and Marcus is carrying you to bed. His grip is tight on you, his chest so warm and comforting you nearly fall asleep again. But then he’s laying you down in the bed, pulling the blankets back and tucking you beneath them. You feel him turn to leave, but you lift your hand, curling your fingers in the collar of his shirt.

“No,” you whimper.

“I’ll be right back, honey,” he replies, brushing his hand over your forehead and untangling your hand. “Gonna go get you some water.”

You fall asleep again, coming to another few minutes later when the blanket rustles and he fits his warm body against you. You turn into him, burrowing onto his chest, fisting your hand at his side.

“Hey, Marcus?” you murmur, sighing into his touch as he starts playing with your hair, gentle fingers on your scalp.

“Yeah, baby?” he replies. “You okay? You need anything?”

You shake your head against his chest. “Earlier,” you mumble, dragging your nose along his chest, breathing as deeply as you’re able, “when I said I liked you too.”

“Yes,” he says, dragging the word out as he presses his fingers against the base of your skull. It feels like heaven.

“I said that I liked you too, but what I really meant was that I love you.” You pause, tilting your head back, blinking your heavy eyes open so you can see his face. “Is that okay?”

Maybe it’s the cold meds, but you swear his eyes are glittering. “Of course that’s okay, baby,” he grins, and his lips touch your forehead a moment later. “I love you too.”

#sleepover saturday #my fics #marcus pike #marcus pike x you #marcus pike x reader #marches pike fic #marcus pike fluff #marcus pike headcanon #the mentalist #the mentalist fic

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koostarcandy · 2 years

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Hello my love ❤️ how are you doing today? For the ask game 🤗

49: Superpower I wish I could have?

76: Do I have any pets?

164: Do I like adventure?

I hope you have a great Sunday!!

hello my dearest mindy !! im doing okay, im doing some german cramming ^^ how are you on this lovely morning/day/afternoon/evening/night?

you've aaaaasked

Superpower I wish I could have?

to be able to heal people with just words. i remember doing this speech about the power of words & i've always thought about how mere words can either pierce a person or put their pieces back together. i would like to have my words like how yoongi thoughtfully phrases his words or how taylor has this unique way of writing just enraptures people.

do i have any pets?

no, unfortunately :(( i had a kitten named draco who passed away because he was really fragile :// there's this litter of kittens from draco's mum (she has a different partner every time i see her, like girl dont make it seem im painfully single D:) but they're rea;;y timid but thankfully growing well !!

do i like adventure?

anything which raises my heartbeat and blood pressure in a good way? yeah, hell yeah in fact !!! but i tend to overthink, so it seems like i will in my cozy, air conditioned comfort zone for now :D

lets chat with this weirdly specific list !!!

#my dearest mindy #mindy asked!#parkdatjimin #what a clever username i must add :D #sometimes i think a pet & me would not go well #cause i need to take care of myself first #but then i realise i need someone who is unbiased and doesn't mind me serenading them with sad taylor swift songs :D #also thats why i lowkey made the delicate!family get furry babies #you grow with them #atleast that's what i think #lets chat !!!

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