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inked-with-feels · 4 days ago

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I Hate Me | Marcus Baker

Requested by anon:

Can we get a fanfic of the reader sitting in Ellen’s spot when the “I hate me” happens and the reader runs out upset and him after her and they have to comfort each other pleaseeeeeeeee

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Summary: Marcus and I hadn’t spoken in weeks. Not since that night. The night where he told me he didn’t love me anymore. That he didn’t want to be with me. I knew it was the depression talking — but it still shattered me. Every word lingered like smoke from a house fire: thick, choking, impossible to ignore.

So when I agreed to come over tonight, I didn’t expect to see him. I definitely didn’t expect this.

Marcus comes home drunk. Angry. Empty. Breaking. And he doesn't just fall apart — he unravels. In front of his family. In front of me. And I have to decide… do I walk away this time, or do I stay — even in the mess? Word Count: ~3.2k Warnings: ⤷ emotional breakdown, mental health themes (depression, self-hatred) ⤷ alcohol use (underage drinking) ⤷ intense emotional dialogue ⤷ yelling, crying, family conflict ⤷ strong language Please read responsibly.

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Marcus and I hadn’t spoken in weeks. Not since that night. The night where he told me didn’t love me anymore, that he didn’t want to be with me anymore. I knew it was his depression talking, but it still killed me, nonetheless. The kind that leaves a silence louder than any yelling ever could. Every word, every look, had lingered in the air like smoke from a house fire — thick, choking, and impossible to ignore.

So when I agreed to come over tonight, I didn’t expect to see him. And I definitely didn’t expect this.

I was sitting stiffly on the couch between Ellen and Clint. The silence in the house was thin and tense, like stretched wire about to snap. My hands were folded in my lap, nerves biting at my stomach. I could feel the worry in the room like a pulse, but no one said it out loud.

Then the front door creaked open.

There was shuffling, uneven footsteps, and the sound of Max’s voice — breathless and irritated. I turned my head just as she came through the doorway, her arm wrapped around Marcus, struggling to hold him up.

Marcus.

His body slumped against his sister like he barely had control of his own limbs. His shirt was wrinkled, half untucked, his hair a mess like he’d run his fingers through it over and over. He looked... lost. Drunk. Completely and utterly gone.

When his blurry gaze landed on the living room, he tried to straighten up, as if to save some dignity, but failed miserably.

“Good evening,” he mumbled, slurred and lazy. He lifted his hands to sign the same words, but they fumbled through the air like broken pieces of a sentence.

I didn’t move. Not even a breath.

Clint immediately signed, “Go to bed.”

Max signed back: “Okay.” She started guiding him toward the stairs, her arm firm but gentle.

Ellen stepped forward, voice raised, stern and sharp as a blade. She signed at the same time for Clint’s benefit. “Go to bed. Now.”

It was the kind of voice that didn’t leave room for argument. But Marcus wasn’t listening.

He stopped halfway to the stairs, swaying a little as he turned back. His expression curled into something smug — or what he thoughtwas smug, but looked more like a boy trying to act tough in the middle of a storm.

“Oh lighten up,” he said with a loose grin, waving his hand dismissively while trying to sign the same. The motion was slow and exaggerated — like his arms were underwater.

I was still frozen, watching it all unfold. Like a scene in a movie I didn’t want to see but couldn’t look away from.

Marcus kept going, his words tumbling out, slurred but loud.

“I’m so tired,” he said, dragging the words out like they weighed a ton. “Of everyone acting like it’s the worst thing in the world — oh, kids drink — it’s not a big problem!”

He tried to sign along as he spoke, hands jerky and chaotic.

“I’m not selling myself short, okay!”

Max’s eyes shot to me instantly — wide, panicked. Her lips parted like she wanted to scream, but instead she signed, speaking frantic at the same time. “Oh my God, shut up.”

She moved toward him fast, grabbing his shoulders to spin him around and guide him back up the stairs. But Marcus shoved her off with more force than I expected.

There it was — that look.

A darkness behind his eyes, something hollow and sharp. It wasn’t him. It wasn’t the boy I knew.

Clint stepped in again, his presence solid, grounded. He signed, “We’ll discuss this in the morning.”

Marcus laughed — bitter, mocking. “Oh okay,” he mumbled while signing, throwing in a sloppy nod.

Max reached for him again, but he yanked his arm away, then stepped right up to his dad, barely inches from his face, anger rising in his voice.

“Yes sir,” he barked. “Okay. Yes sir.” His hands mimicked the signs, but with exaggerated sarcasm.

My chest tightened. It was too much. Something in me cracked.

“What is wrong with you?” I asked suddenly, my voice loud and shaking. I signed the same words, my hands trembling.

“Do you hate me?”

Everything stopped.

Marcus turned like he was waking up from a dream. His body swayed slightly as he finally noticed me. Like really saw me.

His lips parted, eyes blinking through the haze. “No... no...” he stammered. “I... I—” he fumbled for words, for signs.

“I don’t hate you,” he said again, the words quieter this time, almost like he didn’t believe them himself. He moved toward me — slow, unsteady.

I sat there, stunned, paralyzed.

He stopped in front of me and dropped to his knees. His eyes were bloodshot, rimmed with red, tears clinging to his lashes like he was too proud to let them fall — but not strong enough to hold them in.

“I don’t hate you.”

He repeated it, this time with both voice and hands.

Then his voice broke — like a dam collapsing.

“I hate me.”

He stared right into my eyes as he signed again. “I hate me.”

A single tear slipped down his cheek. His jaw clenched, but his expression was crumbling, no matter how hard he tried to fight it.

“I hate me, okay?” He beat on his chest with one hand, then both. His voice rising even more, anger seething from his lips. “I hate me. I hate me.” Marcus just kept repeating.

My hand flew to my mouth as tears welled in my eyes. I couldn’t stop them even if I tried.

Seeing him like this — unraveling, drowning in pain — it shattered something in me.

Marcus kept yelling his voice getting angry every time he said those three words, he kept signing, each word filled with more pain than the last.

“I HATE ME, OKAY? I HATE ME!”

Clint stepped forward again, one hand gently on Marcus’ shoulder, the other resting on mine. He didn’t speak. He didn’t have to. His touch was grounding, even if everything else felt like it was spiraling.

Max stood in the doorway, arms wrapped around herself like she was trying to keep from falling apart. Ellen had tears rolling down her cheeks.

Everyone was breaking. Because Marcus was breaking.

“Do you understand?” he cried, hands shaking. “I hate me!”

Then his knees gave out. He collapsed fully onto the floor, curling forward, hands gripping his knees as he sobbed into his chest.

The sound of it wrecked me.

Max and Ellen were both crying now. Clint was kneeling beside Marcus, trying to lift him up gently.

And I… I couldn’t breathe.

I stood up and pushed past them, my shoulder purposely hitting Marcus’ making him stumble more. My feet moved before my mind caught up. I shoved the door open, the cold night air hitting me like a slap, but I didn’t stop. I couldn’t. My tears blurred everything as I stepped into the dark.

Then—

“Y/N — wait!”

His voice was raw, full of desperation. The door slammed shut behind him as he ran after me.

I froze in place.

Because even after everything — Even when I knew I should keep walking — Some part of me still wanted to turn around.

——

The cold night air clings to my skin. It feels sharper than it should — like it knows I’m barely holding myself together.

I’m halfway down the driveway when I hear him.

“Y/N — wait!”

His voice is broken, rough like it scraped its way out of his throat.

I stop. Not because I want to. But because I can’t leave. Not like this.

Footsteps stumble behind me, fast and uneven. Then suddenly he’s there, breathless and swaying, chest heaving like he’s been running for miles. His eyes are glossy with fresh tears.

“Please,” Marcus says, stepping closer. “Please don’t go.”

I turn slowly, my own tears falling now, too fast to wipe away. “I can’t do this, Marcus,” I whisper. My voice barely makes it out. “Seeing you like that… it hurts. You’re hurting and I don’t know how to fix it.”

He steps closer. Hesitates. Like he’s afraid he’ll break me if he gets too close.

“You’re not supposed to fix me,” he says. “You’re not supposed to carry it.”

“But I want to,” I snap, voice cracking. “I want to help you, and you keep shutting me out, pushing everyone away until there’s nothing left but this—” I motion toward the house, toward the chaos that still lingers behind us. “—and I don’t know what to do with that.”

Marcus wipes at his face with the back of his hand, but it doesn’t do much. His tears are endless.

“I didn’t want you to see me like that,” he mutters, eyes cast downward. “You were supposed to hate me after the fight. It’d be easier that way.”

My heart shatters all over again. He really thinks he’s unlovable.

I take a step toward him, slowly — carefully — like I’m approaching something fragile.

“I don’t hate you,” I say. “I never have.”

Marcus lifts his eyes, and the look in them nearly levels me.

“I don’t even hate the mess,” I add. “I just hate that you won’t let me stand beside you in it.”

He stares at me, lips trembling. Then suddenly, without another word, he collapses into me. His arms wrap around my waist, his forehead pressing to my shoulder, and his body folds like the weight he’s been carrying finally got too heavy.

I catch him, arms immediately locking around his back. His entire body is shaking.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers into the fabric of my jacket. “I’m so sorry.”

I press my cheek to his hair. “I’m here,” I say softly. “I’m not going anywhere.”

We stay like that, in the middle of the cold driveway under the hazy porch light — just holding each other, letting our pain spill out into the space between us.

His breath hitches again. “I don’t know how to stop feeling like this. Like I’m not enough. Like I’ll never be enough.”

I pull back slightly, just enough to meet his eyes. They’re red and glassy, but honest.

“You are enough,” I say firmly. “You don’t have to be perfect. You just have to let someone in.”

He nods slowly. His face crumples again and he presses his forehead to mine, voice so small it almost disappears.

“I don’t want to lose you.”

“You won’t,” I promise.

We fall silent again, not because there’s nothing left to say — but because we finally don’t have to say everything. Not all at once.

He’s still trembling, but less now. Like being seen, really seen, is starting to steady him.

“I’m scared,” Marcus admits. “That I’ll always feel like this.”

I nod, feeling my own tears drying on my cheeks. “Then let’s be scared together.”

His arms tighten around me again. This time, it’s not desperate. It’s grounding. It’s real.

And maybe we’re still broken. But at least now… we’re not broken alone.

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inked-with-feels · 6 days ago

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Can you do something where the reader is Ginny’s older cousin visiting for the summer, and Marcus totally wasn’t expecting to fall for someone who’s sweet, a little awkward, but totally calls him out on his BS in the most wholesome way. Maybe they sneak out at night, have deep convos on the roof, and Marcus slowly realizes he actually likes being vulnerable with her??

I feel like this is gonna need a few parts, not just one.

Between Us, a Heartbeat | Marcus Baker

Word Count: 764 Plot: Y/N, Ginny’s sharp-witted but guarded older cousin, arrives in Wellsbury for the summer, determined not to get attached. After catching a mysterious boy sneaking into Ginny’s window, her nightly rooftop escapes are interrupted when he finally speaks to her. It’s Marcus Baker. She keeps her walls up—but he doesn’t seem put off. If anything, he stays. And that’s the first problem.

PART 1 : Wellsbury was too perfect. Like a coffee commercial that went on too long. Y/N stepped out of the car and immediately hated how aggressively warm the sunshine was.

She wasn’t here to heal. Or find herself. Or make memories. She was here because her mom said she “needed a change of scenery.” As if scenery had anything to do with the way her heart still ached—or why she didn’t believe a single word boys said anymore.

“Y/N!”

Ginny practically skipped off the porch and wrapped her in a hug before she could dodge it.

“Wow,” Y/N said dryly, “do you have cheer practice later, or is that just how you say hi now?”

Ginny laughed. “You haven’t changed.”

And that was the whole problem.

—

The first few days blurred together. Georgia was suspiciously welcoming. Ginny stayed busy flitting between her friends and her very organized chaos.

Y/N mostly kept to herself, unpacking only what she needed. Everything else—literal and emotional—stayed zipped up tight.

At night, when the house finally went quiet, she’d climb out the bedroom window and settle on the roof—not because it was rebellious, but because the stars didn’t ask questions. She also liked being able to smoke her joint in peace.

She noticed him on night two.

Tall. Dark hoodie. Slipping through Ginny’s window like it was routine. No words. No sound. Just a shadow that came and went.

She didn’t ask Ginny. Didn’t want to know. Not her circus.

But it annoyed her. Or maybe he annoyed her—the way he moved like the world owed him silence.

—

Night Four

She sat on the roof, earbuds in but no music playing—just needing the world to think she wasn’t available. Her fingers played with the zipper of her hoodie as she stared up at the sky and tried to ignore the dull ache behind her ribs.

Then: footsteps. Soft. Hesitant.

“I’m not trying to scare you,” a voice said from behind.

She didn’t look. “Good job failing.”

A pause. Then the boy—him—settled a few feet away, careful, like he was trying not to spook a wild animal.

Marcus Baker. She recognized him now. Ginny’s neighbor. And apparently, her… whatever.

He didn’t say anything right away. Just stared out at the same sky she was trying to get lost in. He watched as she took a hit off her joint. Thought about asking for one. Decided against it. Made a mental note to bring his own next time.

“Don’t you have a window to crawl through?” she asked coolly.

“Thought I’d try the roof tonight.”

Her eyes flicked to him. “Trying to expand your territory?”

A beat. He half-smiled. “You’re not from here.”

“Nope.”

“You don’t like talking to people.”

“Wow,” she deadpanned. “Do you use this much charm on all the girls?”

His smile twitched again.

She hated that he didn’t get defensive. Hated that he didn’t leave.

Part of her wanted him to.

Because if he stayed… she might let her guard slip. And people didn’t stay. Not when it mattered.

She flicked the last of her joint off the roof and watched it arc down toward Georgia’s flowerbed. Hopefully she wouldn’t notice the growing graveyard of roaches. Y/N had no idea why Georgia even liked those flowers so much.

She picked at the fraying thread on her hoodie sleeve, thoughts racing despite how still she sat.

Don’t get comfortable, she warned herself. You’re only here for the summer. And he’s already someone else’s mistake waiting to happen.

He didn’t press her. Just sat there, occasionally glancing her way like he was still trying to figure her out.

And from Marcus’s point of view? He kind of was.

He hadn’t meant to come out here. He thought he’d maybe just say something smart, be a little annoying, and head back inside. But now that he was here, he couldn’t seem to leave.

She was nothing like Ginny. Or anyone, really. A little blunt. A little guarded. And not at all interested in impressing anyone.

He liked the quiet with her. He liked that she didn’t ask what he was doing, or why he wasn’t with Ginny. He liked that she didn’t look at him like she wanted something from him.

Usually, he’d be riding around on his board, zoning out. Instead, he was sitting here beside a girl who barely looked at him and somehow made him feel more seen than most people ever did.

She didn’t trust him. That much was obvious.

But she didn’t hate him either.

The sky stretched out above them. Quiet. Cold. Comforting.

And for now, that would be enough.

#ginny and georgia fanfic #marcus baker x reader #marcus baker fanfic #reader insert #self insert fanfiction #x reader #slow burn fanfic #friends to lovers #emotional slow burn #marucs baker

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