#Benny Magalon fanfic

[bobafetts-princess]

Good Luck Charms

Months 7-12

Summary: After things have become a touch less frosty between you and Detective Magalon, you find that you actually like the man quite a bit. Maybe more than you bargained for.

Pairings: Benny ‘Borracho’ Magalon x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 7.5K

Warnings: cursing, canon-typical sexism, mentions of substance issues (pain meds), someone gets shot.

A/N: This is slow burnnnnnnnnnnn

Months 1-6 can be found here!

MONTH 7

Month 7 is when things change.

It’s a raid. You’ve all been on one before but never together and the guys have never seen you this dressed down. They’ve only ever seen you in work clothes; pencil skirts and jackets, power suits, wrap dresses, slacks and silk blouses. You never have a hair out of place, it’s always styled with the perfect work makeup.

But today your hair is braided, you’ve got on jeans and a pink button down and brown boots, with a bulletproof vest over the top. Not an ounce of makeup. It’s a different side of you and the guys don’t know what to make of it.

“Fed? Is that you?”

“What’ve you done with the chick that comes to the office every day?”

“Well damn I didn’t know you owned a pair of jeans!”

You roll your eyes at all of them, flipping them the bird which makes them cackle. Detective Magalon doesn’t say anything, but it doesn’t bother you.

Really. It doesn’t.

But the raid goes sideways, only a little. One of the ATF guys doesn’t clear a room completely and you get shot.

Well, not really shot. More like grazed. It rips a hole in arm of your shirt and slices you deep enough that you think you’ll need stitches, but you’re alive and that’s the important part. You’re just lucky it was your non-dominant arm so you can still pull the trigger.

Detective Magalon takes the guy down and checks on you, but you wave him off. It’s not the first time you’ve been shot and in your line of work? It won’t be the last either.

“I’m fine. Finish the raid. Suspect is in the center,” you yell over the sound of gunfire. Big Nick finds him and tackles him down, wrestling with the gun and managing to get it away from him. You’re next in, jumping on the suspects back and getting cuffs on him before he has a chance to get away.

You’re running on pure adrenaline and haul the suspect up, it’s the head of cocaine sect of the organization. Catching him alive was the number 1 priority of this mission and you and Detective Magalon (with the help of his team) have succeeded. You shove him out, handing him off to Mike to be booked and turn, looking to the team. They’re exchanging high fives and cheers and Detective Magalon smiles at you. Henderson comes to high five you and you raise your arm to give him one back. You’re smiling and relieved until a shot of pain goes through your arm and you have to drop it.

Benny knows you got shot. He was there when you jerked, grabbed the spot and yelled at him to keep going. He knows you got shot even though you cuffed the suspect and marched him out. He really knows you got shot though when you move to give Henderson a high five and gasp in pain. Medical doesn’t arrive quick enough (in his opinion, at least) but they end up patching you up. They’ve gotta strip you out of that pretty pink button up, leaving you in a white undershirt and jeans as they give you stitches in the back of an ambulance. Benny notices a tattoo along your collarbone that he hadn’t seen before and he wants to get a closer look.

“You good?” He asks, stepping over after being checked himself. You glance up at him and Benny is surprised to see a light dancing in your eyes, the after-effects of an adrenaline rush no doubt. The guys are behind him, checking in on you at the same time he is. He catches some words and a date, something he definitely can’t see when you wear your buttoned up power suits and those fucking pencil skirts.

“I’m good, Detective,” your eyes are flicking between them all and you turn your body, wincing slightly as the needle punctures skin and he reads what the ink says. ‘How lucky am I to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard’. Benny wonders if it’s about an ex but shakes the thought away before it can take root. Why would you get a tattoo about an ex anyways? Stupid thought. But then you’re speaking again, drawing Benny’s attention. “It’s not the first time I’ve been shot. At least this one didn’t require surgery.” You quip and Benny’s eyebrows raise at the insinuation. He knows the group chat is gonna blow up about this little insight into your life in a while and Benny already wants to put his phone on mute.

************

MONTH 8

With month 8 comes…..coffee? You’ve found this little hole in the wall place by your government issued apartment that serves fantastic coffee. They open at 5:30 in the morning, so when you get there at 5:45, the coffee is hot and fresh. They know you by first name at this point and know what time you come by in the morning. It’s easier than making drip coffee and it tastes better too.

Well one morning your alarm doesn’t go off. Or you shut it off. Or you sleep through it. You’re not really sure what happens. But you do know when you open your eyes and check the clock and see 7:30, you’re flying out of bed. You dress and clean up in record time and are out the door by 8:15, to your coffee shop by 8:20 and ordered before 8:25.

It’s 8:45 before you get a coffee in hand.

“I’m so sorry honey!” Shouts the owner, a stunning woman in her late 60’s. “One of my girls has the flu and one of our coffee machines broke!”

“It’s okay Mrs. Akron,” you assure her but god you are so late. You’re never late. Ever.

“Here darling,” she says, out of breath and frazzled. “Take a large black coffee, on me!” She thrusts your caramel macchiato at you as well as the large black. You start to protest but she won’t let you. “I insist! You’re running late and probably overslept, so you might need an afternoon boost. Take it,” she says, closing your hand around the cup. You nod at her, stopping to stuff a $50 in the tip jar before you make it to work. You roll in at 9:00, three hours late. The entire office whips their heads up and watches you walk in but you refuse to let it bother you.

“You good?” Detective Magalon asks and doesn’t press when you nod.

“Do you drink black coffee?” You ask before you lose the nerve. He’s bought you so much food, the least you can do is give him your extra coffee. “My coffee shop gave me an extra and….” You trail off, setting the coffee on his desk and taking a seat without an answer.

“Thanks.”

You simply nod but a couple times a week you bring him a large black coffee.

*************

MONTHS 9&10

Months nine and ten brings a trial and it’s a long trial. The examination and cross examination and evidence and witnesses take nearly 6 weeks. You and Detective Magalon spend nearly every waking hour together, working with the district attorney to make sure all goes the way it should.

You’re both emotionally, mentally, and physically drained and by the time the jury is sent off to make their own decision, you feel like you can nap for hours.

In fact, you do.

The couch in the district attorney’s office is so dammed comfortable and you’re sitting next to Detective Magalon, whose body is just radiating heat. You’d both just finished testifying, his took 3 hours and yours took 4. You’re silent next to each other, too drained from all the information you had to recall and all the talking.

The next thing you know, you wake up. Your head is resting against Detective Magalon’s shoulder and you might (you’ll deny if anyone asks) have drooled on his shoulder. You push off him and get some distance between your bodies.

“Oh shit, I’m so sorry. This case has taken it out of me. How long did I sleep?”

“Three hours.” He says, clicking his phone shut and looking at you.

“Oh my fucking god, you’re kidding? I’m so sorry,” you tell him but he waves you off.

“It’s been a long trial. I don’t blame you for being tired,” he says, standing. You hear his knees crack when he does and see a wince of pain cross his face as he makes his way to the restroom.

Oh my god, he let you sleep even though he had to piss? There’s no way you’re unpacking that right now.

Benny never tells you that he fell asleep too.

When the verdict comes back a few weeks later and the suspect is found guilty as sin, you celebrate. It’s only one person, only one head of the hydra you’re dealing with, but it’s something.

The guys get a couple packs of beer and one Friday after work, you drink together.

“Fed! You have to hang with us for a little while. You just had your first successful trial with us,” Connors insists and you agree to stay.

“One beer!” You tell them and they laugh and wave you off. It’s the first time you’ve ever drank with them and you’re so damn careful not to overdo it. They shoot the shit, swapping stories and peppering you with questions you refuse to answer.

“Still no boyfriend?”

“Is it hard working around such attractive dudes all the time?”

“Ever smoked weed? Does smoking disqualify you from being a fed?”

“You seem like the type to own a cat”

“Got a hot sister?”

Benny notices the last one makes you wince and he wonders why. Then he tells himself that it’s none of his business. But then he thinks of your tattoo and he can’t help but try to put the pieces together.

“Even if I did I wouldn’t tell you.”

“I wouldn’t know, all y’all are ugly.”

“No it doesn’t disqualify you.”

“That’s a weird statement.”

You swallow hard before you answer the last one.

“Doesn’t matter if I do, none of you are meeting her.”

Benny can see you’re uncomfortable and he doesn’t want the guys to latch on. So he takes the reins of the conversation, asking Big Nick about his latest divorce. Of course he launches into a huge speech about how it’s not his fault that he likes pussy so much and blah blah blah.

Benny shoots you a glance and notices you looking at him. You give him a small nod and raise your bottle in thanks.

At least, Benny thinks it’s in thanks.

********

MONTH 11

Month 11 earns you a nickname.

It’s another raid. Another head of the hydra that you’re looking for. You wear basically the same outfit, only this time the button down is army green instead of soft pink.

“You ready?” Magalon asks you, standing next to you and you wonder if he’s thinking of the last raid where you got shot. He’s wearing a long-sleeved black shirt with a grey LASD beanie over his hair. He hasn’t shaved in a few days and you see the strong salt-and-pepper there. It makes you twitch, low in your belly and wonder if he has-Jesus. A raid. You’re wearing a goddamned bulletproof vest and are getting ready to charge into a building where you might potentially get shot. Tamp that shit down.

“Yeah. I don’t think anyone is ever fully ready but I’m as ready as I can be,” you tell him, twisting your neck to look up at him.

“Try not to get shot this time,” he chuckles, looking at you. You nod, smiling as well and promising to do your best.

You get shot.

You actually get fucking shot.

It happens in a flash, one second the LAPD is declaring the room and by extension the building clear. The next second, you’re on the ground absolutely gasping for air.

“What the fuck?” Connors yells, pointing his gun that direction as Magalon covers your body with his own.

“You’re like a fucking magnet for bullets,” Magalon grumbles at you, grabbing you by the shoulder straps and moving to haul you out.

“Stop,” you gasp. “I’m fine, got the wind knocked out of me,” you tell him, pushing him off. The last thing you need is him getting shot in the back because he’s worried about you. “Get the suspect,” you tell him, pushing him off and finding cover behind a couple barrels off to your left. There’s a few more shots and a small shout of pain, hopefully from someone that isn’t on your side, before everything stops.

The barrels are moved out of the way and your gun flies up before you see who it is. Magalon. You never thought you’d be so happy to see him. “He’s cuffed. Connors shot him in the shoulder too but he’ll be fine. Unfortunately. Come on, you need a hospital,”

“No. No hospital. I’m fine,” you insist.

“Bullshit. Can you walk or do I need to carry you?”

“I’m fine. Seriously.”

“I guess I’m carrying you,” he says, handing his gun to Big Nick and moving to take off his own bulletproof vest.

“Damnit, I can walk,” you say, moving to stand.

“Good. Walk yourself to the ambulance so we can go to the hospital,” his jaw is set and you know that you’re going to end up at the hospital whether you like it or not.

“Fucking stubborn ass,” you snipe at him as you pass your own gun off to Connors.

“I’m going to get you a four leaf clover for luck, maybe then you’ll stop getting shot,” he shoots back and you can hear the frustration laced in his tone. As well as something else? Fear? Surely not.

“Ha!” Big Nick laughs and everyone turns to look at him. “That’s the perfect nickname for our fed. Clover,” and you groan because you know it’s going to stick. There’s no way it’s not going to stick. You don’t even get a chance to think about them calling you ‘our’ fed until you’re in the waiting room of the hospital.

—————————

“It’s two broken ribs and a nasty bruise,” says the ER doctor, sticking your x-rays up. “Desk duty for the next two months,” she tells you and you groan. Magalon hasn’t left your side yet, the others have, reports to write and debriefs to be held. “I’m going to give you some pain meds, I think the adrenaline hasn’t worn off yet and that’s the reason you aren’t feeling much pain.” You have been feeling pain but downplaying it in the hopes of fooling the doctor. Unfortunately for you, x-rays can’t fool a doctor. “I’m also going to insist that you take the next four days off, bed rest.”

She stares you down and you have no choice but to nod and agree. She turns to Magalon and says “as her partner, I fully expect you to keep her from over-exerting. And absolutely no sex until those ribs are healed,” she wags her finger at the two of you and you both splutter at the same time.

“We’re no-“

“It’s not like-“

The poor woman is confused and you can see why because Magalon introduced himself as your partner when they brought you back to the waiting room.

“I’m FBI,” you explain.

“I’m LA County Sheriffs Department. We’re partners on a case,” Magalon finishes the explanation.

“Ah, well. Regardless,” she points her fingers at you, “you’re on bed rest for four days.” She turns to Magalon, “I don’t know if you can make that happen but I expect you should try.” He nods and she moves to leave the room. “And I know you’re not being truthful about how much pain you’re in,” she points at you again and your face heats. Her finger swings to Magalon, “make sure she takes a pain medication. Take it with food. It’ll probably put you to sleep,” she warns before she heads out.

She must decide that either you aren’t going to take one or Magalon isn’t going to be able to convince you to take one because a nurse makes you take one before you’re allowed to leave.

“She’ll need another one in four hours,” she warns before she takes off. And of course, it takes almost 45 minutes to get out. Between filling the script and getting discharged, by the time you make it to the parking lot you’re a zombie. It’s been a long day and you’re sore, exhausted, and grouchy.

“I had the guys bring your car,” he tells you and you nod. “What’s your address? I need it to get you home,” he says. His voice is soft, like one you would use around a skittish dog as he helps you into the passenger seat but your tongue is thick and heavy and you can’t form words.

By the time Benny makes it back to the drivers seat, you’re asleep. Passed out against the center console and Benny can’t help but smile. You look so soft and peaceful and not at all like a woman who just got shot.

Benny decides to take you to his place since he doesn’t know how to get to yours. He bridal carries you up the stairs to his apartment and manages to get you inside without waking you. Benny settles you down in his bed, unsure of whether to leave your clothes the way they are or try to change you into something comfortable and decides to go with the latter.

He removes your shirt, hoping you’ve got a tank underneath it like last time and is relieved to find one. He slips one of his t shirts over your head, pulling it down across your body before reaching under to pull down the tank. He refuses to look at the tattoo, knowing it’ll kick his brain into overdrive if he does. When he removes the undershirt, Benny must brush against your bruise because you groan in pain but he manages to get it off without waking you. Remembering an old trick from a previous lifetime, he unsnaps your bra and pulls it out the arm holes of the shirt, tossing it with the tank. Jeans are last and he makes sure to keep the shirt pulled all the way down as he blindly unbuttons and strips you. Finally, he tucks you under the covers and grabs a pillow to take to the couch. He sets an alarm and passes the fuck out.

The thing that wakes you is the aching pain in your ribs. You groan, doing your best to sit up but god, they hurt so bad. Glancing around the room you expect to see your collection of plants and pink sheets, but are surprised by bare walls and black sheets.

“Where the fuck-“ you start but then Magalon appears in the doorway. It’s that moment that you realize you’ve been changed into clothes that aren’t yours and you narrow your eyes at him.

“I didn’t see anything. I closed my eyes,” he tells you, crossing the room. “I had to take you to my place because you fell asleep before you could give me your address,” he explains. He’s got a protein bar in one hand and a cup in the other and he hands the cup to you first. “It’s time for your next pain med,” he drops the little pill in your hand, “I know your ribs hurt,” he gives you a pointed look. Grimacing you take the pill and chase it with the water.

“Thank you,” you say when he hands you the protein bar. Scarfing it down, you glance up at him as he nods. “I’m sorry I fell asleep. God, you probably had to carry me inside, didn’t you?” Magalon chuckles and nods.

“I need to tell you that I’m not leaving your side until you can go back to work,” and you open your mouth to protest. “Nope. No arguments. I’m more than happy to take you back to your own place if that would make you more comfortable, but you are stuck with me,” he says and you can tell he isn’t going to argue with you about it and you don’t have the energy to try either.

“Fine. How did you get me changed without ‘seeing anything’?” You smile as he explains, careful not to laugh because you know that it’s going to hurt. “I need to shower. Do you think I’ve got enough time before this kicks in?”

“Not sure, but I think it might be safer to wait until you’ve rested a little more,” you can’t help but agree because as he leaves the bedroom again you feel the deep weight of exhaustion overtake you again and before you know it, you’re out.

—————————

The next time you wake, Benny is already there and waiting for you.

“No, I want to try to shower first,” shaking your head at him and trying to sit up. Goddamn, your ribs hurt. He gives you a hand and leads you to the bathroom.

“I’m sure I don’t have the right…anything. But feel free to use anything in my shower,” he says. “But leave the door unlocked just in case you need me. Do you want me to try to make you something to eat?” Your stomach gives an aggressive grumble at that exact moment and he laughs. “Fried egg sandwich? Coffee?” Nodding at both he takes off to his kitchen. Heading into the bathroom, you flip on the lights and take a look at yourself in the mirror. You look like absolute shit. Red eyes, dark circles, your hair is a mess and a half. You haven’t washed your face recently and you know that the shower is going to dry your skin out. Of course Magalon doesn’t have any body lotion either.

Stripping off the tshirt, one of Magalon’s no doubt, you inspect the large bruise on your right side. It takes up almost your entire ribcage, stretching from under your breasts to almost touching your hipbone and it’s a nasty deep purple. It’ll only worsen over the next couple days too, turning brown to green to yellow. When you turn on the shower, you realize you don’t have a clean towel.

“Magalon?” You call out and hear his answering response. “I don’t have a towel, can you bring me one?” There’s silence, then he calls back that he’ll do it in just a second. Locating a brush, you step into the shower and groan at the hot water on your skin. Magalon has a nice shower, a cool grey tile with glass doors. And he has several body washes to choose from. And an actual shampoo and conditioner, not a 4-in-1 combo. You wash your hair with one hand because it hurts to raise the other and skip washing your feet cause you can’t bend over to reach them, but damn do you feel better.

The towel and a pair of sweats is right outside the bathroom door when you get out. You try to rip a brush through your hair, but the exertion makes your ribs hurt too much. So instead, you dress and head to the kitchen. Magalon is in there, plating a sandwich and setting it next to a cup of coffee. Your damn ribs are absolutely aching but right now? You’re more hungry than you are anything else.

“You don’t have to do this.”

“I know. But you’re my partner and I’ve got your back.” Swoon. No-wait. No swoon. Swooning is bad.

“Can I ask you for a small favor?” He nods and you hold out the brush. “It hurts too much to try and brush it.” He takes the brush and looks at it a little funny before he moves to stand behind you. He’s so gentle with it, afraid to put any tension on your head and hurt you. He gets through it as you sip on the coffee, (black, gross) and it doesn’t take him much time and you feel so much better when he’s done.

“Do you want to take your pill now or after you eat?” You opt for now and he hands it to you with a cup of water. “Still tired? Did showering hurt? Do you need to nap?”

“A little but not like I was. No, I feel a lot better being clean. I guess we’ll have to see.”

“Do you want to head back to yours or stay here for now?”

“I’d like to go back to my place, but maybe food first,” Magalon nods and you suppose you should be calling him Benny now. “Clover is gonna stick, isn’t it?” He looses a chuckle and grabs his phone, pulling up a text thread.

Big Nick: How’s Clover?

Benny: Fine. She’s resting. Pain pills took her out.

A couple hours later.

Z: Clover still out?

Benny: Ya. Long day for her. She’s at mine.

Big Nick: Damn Borracho, how did you get that to happen?

Z: OooOOooooHHhhhhh

Connors: Apparently only drugged women go home with you.

Henderson: Y’all are obnoxious

Benny: Fell asleep before I could get her address.

A couple hours later.

Connors: Clover good? Still out?

Benny: Ya. And ya.

Henderson: You know Borracho, my favorite thing about you is how conversational you are.

You snort a laugh and immediately regret it, grabbing at your ribs.

“Are they always like that?”

“As long as I’ve known them. They’ve taken to you though, more than any other person we’ve worked with. Man or woman.”

“Why do you think that is?”

“They’re used to other departments being straight-laced and talking shit about us. You haven’t done that. You call the guys out when they need it and let shit slide that doesn’t. They respect that,” he says, shrugging.

“Is that what happened with the other female agents that worked with you guys?” And he nods.

“By now you know how they are and if they think they’ve found something that’ll bother you, they dig in. And they don’t know when to quit.”

Nodding you ask, “is that how you got the nickname Borracho?” It’s a far cry from how you made fun of his nickname all those months ago. He sighs heavily and you know it’s a story that irritates him a little.

“One time, back when it was Big Nick, Henderson and me, we had a work event. It was fancy and an open bar, so I naturally got shit-faced. Nick and his first wife had to help me out and make sure I didn’t vomit all over myself. Nick started calling me Borracho and I never got rid of it, especially once they realized I hate it.” Your sandwich is gone by now and you move to go put the plate in the sink but Benny stops you. He takes the plate and puts it in the dishwasher before coming to sit next to you again.

“That’s a horrible way to get a nickname,” you smile at him and he smiles back.

“Tell me about it.” A pause. “Getting shot is a much cooler way to get a nickname,” and you shoot him a small glare. “Do you want to try and nap again or are you alright?” Between the shower and the conversation, you’re exhausted again so you opt for another nap. “While you sleep I’m gonna run to the office and grab some files so I can get some work done while I’m out,” he tells you and you nod, drifting back down the hallway to his room. Pulling back the sheets and sliding in, you don’t even hear the front door shut before you’re asleep again.

—————————

You’ve forgotten how much you hate being on bed rest. It’s been years since you last were but good god it is awful. At least there’s company. Once Benny got back from the office with a box in the SUV and some get-wells from the boys, you’d finally felt rested. You got Benny to take you back to your own apartment and he chuckles when he walks in.

“This is the girliest place I’ve ever been in.”

“Leave my decoration choices alone,” but he’s not wrong. Everything is soft and feminine, a grey couch with pink and grey pillows. A baby pink sheets and comforter set and plants everywhere. “Thanks. Seriously. I appreciate you staying with me to make sure I’m okay.”

“No coffee machine?” He asks in lieu of a response.

“I only get coffee from that one place,” you remind him. “It’s easier and it tastes better than drip coffee from a pot.” He laughs and says whatever before he sets the files on your counter.

“Two more days, then you can go back to work,” he reminds you and you stick your tongue out at him when his back is turned. Your ribs still ache but you can at least take a pain pill and not pass out within 20 minutes, so that’s an improvement. “Do you want to sift through these files with me?” He asks and you groan. You don’t, you’re too foggy. “Okay okay, we don’t have to,” he chuckles and turns to you. “What do you feel like doing?”

Truth be told, you want to watch a show. Your favorite romantic show just released a new season last week and you want to get caught up. But it’s steamy and not a show to be watched with a coworker so you say, “is there a game on?” Benny quirks a brow at you and you sigh. You like sports but you just aren’t in the mood for them.

“What do you actually want to watch?” When you give him the name of the show he belly laughs and says “let’s watch it. Cmon. I want to see what it’s like.”

Two hours and several spicy scenes later, Benny is deeply invested in this show. He keeps asking questions and insisting things don’t make sense, but that’s only because he hasn’t seen the first couple seasons. If it didn’t hurt so much to laugh, you would be in absolute tears by now because who knew that Detective Magalon from the LASD would be into regency romances?

“Who is that man?”

“They’re in the garden alone. Don’t they have to get married now?”

“He touched her tit, they definitely have to get married now.

“Who is this entire family?”

Finally you get tired of answering his questions and suggest that you start the whole series over, so he can be caught up. He gives you a side eye, but you ignore it, starting from Season 1 Episode 1 and let it play. The two of you get through the first four episodes before it’s time for another pain med, you’re trying to stretch out the time you need them so you can wean. After you take it you curl into the couch, Benny at one end and you at the other. It doesn’t take long for this one to knock you out and eventually you’re stretched out, your head in Benny’s lap as he finishes the season by himself.

He picks you up as gently as he can, walking you down the hall to settle you into your own bed. He takes the time to examine the pictures hung up in the hallway when he heads back to the couch. He notices a girl in your pictures, one so similar in a way that’s more than just a sibling. You both look about the same age and share the exact same smile, often the both of you holding matching Winnie the Pooh plushies. The pictures of the two of you stop when you reach late teens, Benny guesses somewhere between 17-19. It’s just you now, you and your parents, you and another sibling, a brother. Benny starts taking the pieces and putting them together. A memorial tattoo, a refusal to talk about your family. A decided sensitive spot about your sister, or lack of? Benny doesn’t want to make assumptions, he knows what they say about assuming. But he’s a cop, a long time cop, and he knows how to make an educated guess.

You wake in your own bed, surrounded by your fluffy pink comforter and a deep ache in your ribs. It’s not time for more pain meds, so you decide to ice them down instead. Sneaking past a sleeping Benny and you take the time to study his profile. Strong nose and jaw, salt and pepper in his beard, eyes that have a capability to be soft. He really is an attractive man, if you were being honest with yourself, which you try not to be. He looks so peaceful when he’s sleeping, so much different without the deep furrow between his eyebrows. You try to be as quiet as possible as you make a bag of ice, but it doesn’t take him long to follow you into the kitchen.

“In pain?” He asks, leaning up against the counter. His beefy arms cross his chest and you have to avert your eyes quickly.

“Yeah. The sharp pains are gone but the aching pains won’t budge.” He nods before glancing at the clock.

“It’s early,” you glance at the clock yourself and notice it’s only 6 am. Old habits die hard. “Want to get out of the apartment for a while? We can go grab breakfast?” He offers. “Does that coffee shop you like serve a full breakfast?”

“Actually it does. I’ve never eaten breakfast there before though.”

“Are you willing to try it?”

“Anything to get out for a bit. Just let me finish icing my ribs first. It should take about 30 minutes. Do you need to go home and shower?”

Benny shakes his head, “nah, I took one in the guest room while you were sleeping. Want to watch your show while we wait?” Obviously the answer is yes and you can’t stop watching mid-episode so it’s after 7 by the time you leave the house. Benny orders literally only a cup of coffee and you side eye him a you order blueberry pancakes, bacon, and hashbrowns with a French vanilla cappuccino.

“Aren’t you gonna eat?” He shakes his head at you.

“Nah, not much of a breakfast eater,” he says, taking a deep drink.

“Breakfast is the best meal of the day,” and it sends the two of you into an argument about which meal actually is the best meal. (Benny says they’re all the same, which leads you to believe he doesn’t eat much outside of work.)

This silly argument lasts nearly the entire time you wait for food and when it does arrive, you dig in. You’re so hungry that you almost don’t notice that Benny steals a piece of bacon off your plate. “Hey! Get your own food!” You cry, moving to stab him with your fork, but he manages to dodge. He laughs, a full belly laugh, and the sound is delicious. “You should’ve ordered something,” you warn, covering your food with your arms. “I don’t share food.”

He laughs again and flags down the waitress, ordering a side of bacon and some toast. You glare at him until it arrives, and the waitress chuckles as she fills his coffee. “I don’t share food with my boyfriend either,” and before you can argue that Benito Magalon is NOT your boyfriend, she’s gone.

————————-

Benny stays with you the next day and a half, until Monday and you’re allowed to return back to work. He offers to drive you but you refuse, telling him you go in much earlier than he does. “I can stay on your couch again. I’ll wake up when you wake up,” he says and you finally relent. So the next morning, at 6:30 you head into the kitchen, only to find Benny showered and holding coffee. “Hey. I grabbed coffee,” he lifts said coffee. “Want me to drive your car?”

It’s so bright in the office, much more bright than the low lights of your home, and it makes you wince.

“Clover!” Comes the cry from your office mates as they see you. You can’t help but smile and then it widens when you see what’s on your desk. A tiny pot with something green in it, which upon further inspection turns out to be…..clover.

“You guys have to be fucking kidding me,” you laugh, gently so not to upset your ribs. There’s a loud ruckus of laughter from them, as if it’s the funniest practical joke they’ve ever pulled. “You know this won’t live, right?” Examining it, you notice that it looks like they literally dug it up from the front lawn and stuck it in a pot. “It needs a lot more light than it’s gonna get sitting on my desk,” you explain before thanking them for doing something so thoughtful.

Big Nick steps out of his office to welcome you back, reaching over to slap a hand on your shoulder. You brace, waiting for the impact to jar your ribs but a sharp ‘don’t’ from Benny stops the hand before it connects. “Those ribs are still broke, Nick,” he says, barely lifting his eyes from his files to acknowledge Nick. Nick grunts, turns, tells you how good it is for you to be back, then disappears.

Lifting your eyes, you notice the same stunned expression on everyone else’s face and exchange of glances with one another. And glances with you.

That Monday is one of the longest of your career. you barely get anything done and all you want to do is go home and rest, but you can’t. It’s nearly midday when your patience snaps because Henderson looks at you funny when you grunt in pain.

“Got something to say, Henderson?” You snap and he gives you a wide, nervous glance before his eyes snap to Benny. “No. Don’t look at him, look at me. Do you have something to say?” Benny, you see him out of the corner of your eye, checks his watch and then pulls his phone out.

You’re so annoyed because you know they’re texting their little group chat. And you know they’re texting about you. Especially when four phones go off at the same time, more than once.

Borracho: it’s her first day off pain meds. Cut her some slack.

Nick: been there.

Henderson: same.

Z: does she need anything?

Borracho: food. And a coffee.

Z: what does she like?

Borracho: get her General Tso’s and house fried rice. And a caramel macchiato.

Z nods, getting up from his chair and heading out the door.

“Y’all texting about me?” You snap, eyes sharp as they bore holes in Benny’s head. He gives you this soft, pitying look that absolutely makes you rage and stand up suddenly before you double over in pain. Stupid fucking ribs. Stupid fucking perp that shot you. Stupid fucking pain meds. Wait-pain meds. Oh goddamnit. That’s why you’re so grouchy, you haven’t had any today and you’re sore and shaky.

“Are you alright?” Benny asks, standing. You wave him off, heading to the back of the bullpen where there aren’t any eyes and take a couple deep breaths. After four days of basically living together, you recognize the sound of Benny’s feet as they come up behind you. “Hurtin’?” He asks and you nod your head. “Want to head home?” You shake your head, but you really like the way he uses home like it’s somewhere the both of you are going.

“Nah, I just need a little bit of food and probably some coffee,” and you’re confused when Benny smiles.

“That’s where Z went. He’s grabbing Chinese and a caramel macchiato.” And you know that it was 100% Benny’s idea.

“Thanks Ben,” you smile at him, placing a soft hand on his forearm. There’s a moment there, in the back of the bullpen, between the two of you. You’ve been toeing that line all weekend, really for the last two months and this might be the turning point in your relationship. Benny feels safe. Benny feels like comfort. Someone you can trust. Someone you can count on.

Which is amazing to you because it’s such a far cry from where you started, nearly a year ago. Which makes you think, then makes you apologize.

“I’m sorry for how I acted when I first got here.”

“It’s fine. I think you had the right to be, these guys are a tough nut to crack,” he says, gesturing to the bullpen behind them. “They don’t take very well to others, especially fed. The ones we usually deal with are snarky and uptight. They make fun of us or judge us.” You understand, really you do. It makes sense, how defensive they are and how they treat new people. “Are you sure that you don’t want to head home? I can work from there,” he offers and it makes your chest tight. But his phone dings and it’s Z, letting him know that he’s back and that makes your chest tight again. These men care about you, your physical and mental well-being, and they want to make sure you’re okay. So, you shake your head at Benny and head back to your desk, lobbing an apology to everyone for your behavior, and sit down. Grabbing a file, you start to flip through it, but before you even have a chance to look at it, a bag and a coffee are set in front of you. You glance up and smile at Z, thanking him and apologizing to him in the same breath. He waves you off and sits down, but you can’t quite let it go.

“Z, what’s your cashapp. Or your Venmo? Let me pay for this, you didn’t have to go get it for me,” you tell him but he waves you off again.

“Nahh, Borracho already paid for it. Don’t worry about it,” and when you look at Benny, he refuses to look at you.

*************

Month 12

Month 12, you’re added into the group chat. Your phone buzzes one morning with one text from Big Nick and you notice that there’s a bunch of numbers there that you don’t recognize. Benny’s you do, but no one else. After about a week he stopped sleeping on your couch but he still gets to the office early and the two of you spend your mornings in companionable silence, sharing breakfast.

Big Nick: Anyone up for grabbing donuts this morning?

Big Nick: Also, drop your names so Clover knows who’s who.

Clover: Isn’t being a bunch of donut loving cops a little cliche?

Big Nick: Rude. No donuts for you.

You laugh a little out loud, noticing the ache in your ribs has almost completely disappeared, nearly two months after you got shot. You know Nick well enough now to know that he’s joking and he’s not being the rude, brash, asshole you initially thought that he was.

Zapata: It’s Z. Can’t this morning, gonna do a witness call.

Connors: This is Connors. I’m already at a crime scene, so I can’t. Save me some though!

Henderson: This is Henderson. I’m gonna be late as it is, I don’t have time.

Benny: Borracho can grab some from the usual place.

Clover: Don’t get any jelly filled ones, they’re the worst.

Zapata: Uh oh.

Clover: What?

Connors: NO JELLY FILLED? THAT’S UN-AMERICAN. I’M GOING BACK TO THE OTHER GROUP CHAT.

You laugh out loud again, the idea of Connors taking jelly-filled donuts so seriously honestly tracks for who he is as a person.

Clover: I’m sorry! Get all the jelly filled that you want, but get me long chocolate donut. No jelly, please.

Connors: Borracho, get a dozen jelly-filled just to spite Clover.

Clover: Awe, Connors. You’re hurting my feelings.

Big Nick: It’s too early to be reading this many messages.

Clover: You texted us first.

Benny: Chill or I won’t get donuts.

Henderson: You started the group chat.

Connors: You text first?!

Zapata: Speaking of, what should I name the chat?

Big Nick: Why does the group chat need a name?

Zapata: Our other chat is called The Regulators. We need to name this one too.

Connors: How about the FEDulators? It sounds the same!!

Clover: That’s the worst name I’ve ever heard, Connors.

Clover: How about Clover and the Four Leaf’s?

Zapata: OoOoOoOhHhHhH!!!!! I like that!!!!

Zapata changed the group name to 🍀Clover and the Four Leaf’s 🍀

Big Nick: Y’all are fuckin’ idiots.

You’re already in the office and lift your head at the sound of someone coming into the bullpen. It’s Benny, carrying two dozen donuts. He smiles at you and it makes something go slippery in your chest and Jesus you’re an adult.

“Welcome to the group chat. It’s hell here,” he laughs, holding out an open box for you to grab one. The two of you sit in silence, eating donuts and sharing files.

[mariamariquinha]

Moodboard - Bossa Nova

Yeah, I made another one. Simple, effective (?) and... Well, this is what I’ve been doing so far with the story 😂 

P.S. The hands of a white woman there in the photo is just an artistic representation. The reader, both in this and in all my stories, has no description of physical characteristics so that everyone can read without restrictions.

Bossa Nova is a Brazilian musical genre that emerged in the late 1950s and has influences from samba and American jazz. When the rhythm was created, the singers had an exuberant image, with glamorous costumes and theatrical posture on and off stage.

If until then exaggeration was the norm, Bossa Nova proposed the opposite: simplicity.

Simplicity, yes. Without the cliché trappings of high school sweethearts or the dreams of a life as planned. Simple, yes, like the notes of a Bossa Nova song that brought, in the details of everything, the construction of something truly rational, tactile and real.

The connection of everything.

----------------------------

I think I explained the title of the story, right? Maybe. I don't know. Isn't it a bit corny?

[nocturnal-milk-dud]

Unfinished Business

Pairing: Benny ‘Borracho’ Magalon x Reader

Summary: “You were trapped in the bathroom with your ex-boyfriend.”

Rating: PG-13 

Warnings/notes: have some angst; cursing; smoking; drinking; some fluff

Word Count: 2269

You stepped out of the bathroom and did a small, awkward spin in the living room. 

“Absolutely,” Audra said, nodding her head. “You look fantastic!” 

“Are you sure it’s not too much?” you asked, looking down at yourself. You hadn’t worn heels this high in months, and you felt like you were going to need to constantly smooth your dress to make sure it was covering everything. 

“When was the last time you got laid?” Audra asked, finishing off the wine in her glass. You pursed your lips and glanced around the room, thinking but not really thinking, giving her your answer. “No, it’s not too much.” You looked at the time on your phone and sat down, pouring yourself a glass of wine. 

“He’ll be here soon,” you said, unable to ignore the anxiety building in your stomach. It had been a while and you couldn’t help but fidget with the hem of your dress and Audra noticed. She shifted to the edge of her seat and took your hands in hers to stop you. 

“Listen, Quentin is a really nice guy, with a fantastic body, by the way, but it’s just a date. There’s no pressure for anything else. If you need to get out of there for any reason, just call me, okay?” 

“Thank you, Audra,” you said, taking a deep breath to settle yourself. 

“Now, do you need any condoms? Some snacks? You’re still covered birth control-wise, right?” 

“Jesus, Audra.” You got up and headed for the door. 

Audra was right about Quentin, about his disposition and his body and you found yourself fidgeting even more in the car ride to the restaurant. He wore a dark blue suit and he had long black hair that was smoothed back into a bun. He had a carefully sculpted beard and beautiful dark eyes that you couldn’t look into for too long because you found yourself holding your breath. 

“Audra said you like this place,” Quentin said, helping you out of the car. “Part of me thought about taking you somewhere new, but I feel like a certain level of comfort is nice for a first date, ya know what I mean?” 

“That’s really thoughtful,” you said, leading the way into the restaurant. “First dates are already awkward enough, as it is.” Quentin had reserved a table for the two of you and the waitress led you to a booth in the back corner of the restaurant. She took your drink order and left, and that’s when you saw him over at the bar, Nick sitting next to him. His eyes were already on you. Benny fucking Magalon. 

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” you whispered to yourself. 

“Everything okay?” Quentin asked. 

“Hm?” You looked over at Quentin, having almost forgotten he was there. “Yeah, I’m fine, sorry.”

“Do you like to dance?” Quentin asked.

“Do I like to?” you asked. “Yes. Can I? No. What about you?”

“I’ve got some moves,” he said, a small grin on his face. “I’ve only stepped on like three feet in my lifetime, so I’d say I’m pretty good.” You laughed and for a moment you thought it could work. Yes, you could have a date in the same restaurant your ex was sitting in. He’d see that you were enjoying yourself and he would leave, right? But still you felt his eyes on you and when you went to open your menu you let your eyes discreetly glance over the top. Nick had left, but Borracho was still there, unmoving as a statue. Did the man ever even blink? You excused yourself then, asking Quentin to order for you, and went to the bathroom. You just needed a moment to collect yourself. You hadn’t seen Borracho in months and now there he was, staring you down from across the room. You washed your hands, focusing on the way the cool water felt over your skin, before trying to call Audra. 

“No fucking signal, are you kidding me?” You headed for the door, but it opened from the other side and your heart stuttered when Borracho walked in and closed it behind him, locking it. 

“Uhh, what the fuck, Benny?” you demanded. 

“You look good,” Borracho said. He did too but you weren’t about to say it. His hair was slicked back and he was wearing a black leather jacket over a shirt that hugged his chest, and probably his arms too. 

“What do you want?” 

“Haven’t seen you in a few months, wanted to say hi.”

“Hi,” you said curtly, before stepping past him to open the door. The lock clicked, but the door didn’t open. You shook the handle, tugged on it, pulled with all your might against it, but it wouldn’t budge. “What did you do to the door?” You looked back at him, your eyes widening with the impending realization.

“I locked it, but, I mean, it should open.” He reached past you and tried the handle himself, going through the same motions. You slowly looked at Borracho, then back at the door. 

“No,” you said almost inaudibly. “No, no, no no no no, no. No.” You were trapped in the bathroom with your ex-boyfriend. 

“It’s fine. It’s gonna be fine,” you reasoned. “Somebody’s gonna have to use the bathroom eventually, I’ll tell them what happened, you will keep your mouth shut, and we’ll be out. It’s fine.” Borracho was sitting on the floor, his legs crossed in front of him, while you paced the length of the bathroom. 

“Absolutely,” he said, sounding unconvinced. 

“I can’t believe you,” you said. “What goes through your head, like on a daily basis that makes you think it’s okay to follow your ex-girlfriend into the bathroom and lock the two of you in there?”

“And what goes through your head that tells you it’s okay to ghost somebody you’ve been with for two years?” You’d walked right into that one. Speaking of ghosting…

“Fuck!” you hissed, going back over to the door, trying the handle again and pounding on the door. “He’s gonna think I bailed.” You checked your phone again, but there was still nothing. “And he was my ride home.” 

“Well, better it happen now than years down the road or at the fuckin’ altar or some shit,” Borracho said. 

“Is this why you came in here?” you demanded. “Is this what we’re gonna do all night? Pick at scabs?” 

There was a knock at the door then and you rushed over, putting your ear up against the cool metal. 

“Excuse me,” you called. “Could you get somebody, the door is locked and I can’t get out!” The air was thick with silence and you wondered if you were too late to catch them.

“Well then unlock it,” the woman replied. She sounded drunk, which didn’t bode well, but you pushed on anyway.

“No, the lock is broken, and I can’t get the door open. Could you get the manager or call a locksmith or something? Please?” The pause was even longer this time.

“Okay,” the woman said in a wobbly voice that didn’t fill you with much hope. You looked back at Borracho and shrugged. 

You were back to pacing, all hope that the drunk woman would come through lost. Borracho shrugged out of his leather jacket and placed it on the floor next to him.

“Sit,” he said, gesturing to it. “C’mon, you’re stressing me out.” You did as he said, taking your time getting to the floor, what with the heels and the dress--a dangerous combination. 

“I hate you,” you said after you’d finally settled. Borracho laughed and pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pants pocket.

“I’ve actually missed hearing you say that,” he said. You held your hand out for a cigarette. You didn’t smoke, not really. You’d quit a long time ago, but tell that to the pack you had stashed away in a cookie jar in a high kitchen cupboard for “emergencies”. You were both silent for a few moments, and then you started laughing. The whole situation was so stupid. You were out on a date, and now you were locked in a bathroom with your ex. Part of you couldn’t wait to tell Audra everything. Borracho started laughing, too. You didn’t need to explain anything, he knew exactly what you were thinking. The laughter died away slowly and you both sat there in silence. You looked at Borracho’s free hand, spread out across his thigh, and remembered all those times the two of you used to sit side by side on your balcony. You would run your hand over his, lacing your fingers between his. You could sense a tension in the air, like the heaviness in your throat when you have something to say but have no idea how to get the words out. Borracho cleared his throat and your eyes snapped away from his hand. 

“Why did we break up?” he asked.

“You know why, you were there,” you said, not wanting to talk about it. You two had finally found some measure of calm together, you didn’t want to shake that, not while you were trapped in that room together. 

“I know the reason you gave me, but it wasn’t the real reason, was it?” You turned to him, sitting up on your knees.

“Please don’t bring this up now, Benny,” you pleaded. 

“You said it was because I cheated on you, but we both know I didn’t do that.” He didn’t look at you as he spoke. Instead he stared at the wisps of smoke coming off of his cigarette. You took a drag and looked down at your hands. 

“I figured it was only a matter of time,” you said, speaking slowly. You didn’t want to think about that day. You weren’t proud of what you’d done or how you’d done it. You’d sent the man a text for Christ’s sake, packed your things and left before he got home. Borracho didn’t move, but his jaw was clenched tightly, and you continued: “You were coming home later and later, smelling like alcohol and cigarettes. And there I was, sitting around looking like a fool. And you’d come stumbling in, no explanations, nothing. I figured if you hadn’t cheated on me, it was only a matter of time.” You wanted to reach out and touch him, feeling now the weight of your actions, the weight of your fear, but Borracho pushed himself up off the floor and walked to the other side of the room.

“For what it’s worth, I never did, and I was never going to,” he said. 

“I’m sorry. I was so afraid of getting hurt that I ran, and I hurt you. I should have talked to you.” Borracho’s eyes held yours for a moment, then he walked over to you, holding his hand out for yours. You took it and he helped you up from the floor, pulling you into a hug. 

“I’m sorry,” Borracho whispered, “I should have talked to you, too.” You laid your head on his shoulder, your nose brushing his neck, and he smoothed his hand over your hair. 

“I don’t hate you, either,” you said, making him chuckle lightly. His arms were warm around you and you’d forgotten how good it felt to be in his embrace, like you could disappear from the world, in a good way. Without thinking, you kissed his neck where his tattoo began, and you backed away quickly, rolling your lips inward as if you could make them and the kiss disappear. Borracho held onto your hand, and his left eyebrow hitched upward. He pulled you back in, his hooded eyes lingering on your lips as he ran a finger along your jaw. Your hand clenched around the fabric of his shirt and your heart hammered in your chest as you thought about his mouth on yours, his teeth tugging at your bottom lip. He was so close. 

There was a sharp knock on the door, and then it opened. The manager and a couple wait-staff stepped in. You pulled away from Borracho and hurried toward the door, thanking them in a breathless voice. Quentin was long gone which didn’t surprise you, so you stepped out into the fresh night air and called Audra, but she didn’t answer. 

“What the fuck, Audra?” you hissed, dropping your phone to your side.

“You look stuck.” You turned to see Borracho stepping out of the restaurant, his jacket slung over his shoulder. You tried not to stare at his arms, especially where the shirtsleeves ended. 

“That’s what Uber’s for,” you said, waving your phone. Borracho squinted at you.

“C’mon,” he said, “I’ll give you a ride.” 

When Borracho reached your apartment building, he pulled up alongside the curb and helped you out of the truck, his hand on the small of your back. The two of you walked up to the front door in silence. 

“Well, I think it’s safe to say I’ll remember this night forever,” you said as the two of you came to a stop. 

“Something to tell your kids one day,” Borracho said. He held the door open for you and you started to head in, but paused. You reached up, taking his face in your hands, feeling the rough stubble under your skin, and kissed him. You would be lying if you said you hadn’t been thinking about his lips the whole ride home. They were as soft as you remembered. Before he could let go of the door and pull you into his arms, you were gone. Another night, you thought to yourself.

[brandyllyn]

Brandyllyn’s Masterlist

Firstly and most importantly, I wrote a book. Love nor Money is a “why choose” romance about Maya Alvani, a down on her luck woman who agrees to pretend to be the mistress of three of the cities most powerful criminals. For more information about the book itself go here. 

Buy it here. Buy the holiday epilogue here.

Both are available for free with Kindle Unlimited at the same links.

📚<- This work is complete.

Requests are currently closed but thots are always welcome.

I am also brandyllyn on AO3

If you want fanfic updates follow @brandyllyn-writes. For more general updates Join my mailing list!

Most things I write are explicit and I’ve also tried to tag / warn everything appropriately. Let me know if I missed something.

Soulmate Headcanons

Pedro Pascal Characters as Cats with @blueeyesatnight

Because I was inverted... Pretty much every character I write for has a blurb or two in here. This was for a follower celebration.

Kinktober 2021 - here there be smut

Fandoms in alphabetical order.

NSFW Alphabet: Max Phillips 📚

The below fics can be read as standalones or as parts of the Max x Sugartits series.

Fringe Benefits : Max Phillips x f!reader (Explicit) (5k words) 📚 Max has a proposition for you.

Consensual Violence : Max Phillips x f!reader (Mature / Explicit) (3.2k words) 📚 Max’s enthusiasm in the bedroom accidentally sends you to the emergency room. It’s honestly more embarrassing than painful.

Did you mean it? : Max Phillips x f!reader (Explicit) (6.4k words) 📚 Max accompanies you to a family function. It goes about as well as expected.

By the numbers : Max Phillips x f!reader Once Bitten :: Twice Shy :: Safety Third :: Forever (Explicit)(12.7 words) 📚 Max and you hit some turbulence in your relationship.

Bonus: Half a Mind to (2k words) 📚 Max’s POV between Once Bitten and Twice Shy. I suggest reading all of By the Numbers before this one.

After : Max Phillips x f!reader (Mature) (2.4k words) 📚 Things aren’t quite back to normal for you and Max.

Various Requests:

All of these are standalone (as above) but are theoretically in universe and would take place somewhere between Consensual Violence and Did you mean it?

Max reacts to you cutting yourself accidentally. (640 words, smut adjacent) More about Max enjoying a bendy reader. (600 words, smut) Max being an annoying pest where you work. (790 words, smut) Max does not fly economy. (690 words) Getting a taste (2.2k words. hella smut) Turnabout is fair play (770 words, smut?) Max watches porn (300 words, smut adjacent I guess?) Teasing Max (1.2k words, smut) Repellent (1.7 words)

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Adventurous : Benny ‘Borracho’ Magalon x f!reader (Explicit)(5.7k words)📚 Your friend drags you to an unconventional party. Mysterious (Explicit)(4.6k words)📚 Benny tries to follow-up the next day.

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Doppelgänger : Nathan Bateman x f!Reader (Explicit) (13.6k words) 📚 You’re invited to Nathan’s house after ‘the incident’ to test his new AI. A masc one this time. Of course Nathan made it in the form of the most perfect man he knows, himself.

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Silk from their Soul : The Ghoul / Cooper Howard x f!Reader (Explicit)(39k words)📚 It was supposed to be an easy bounty. But something ain't right about her - and Cooper's itching to find out what.

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Monstruo : Pero Tovar (no pairing) (Teen)(3.7k words) 📚 After the events on the wall, Pero and William make an unexpected discovery.

Innocence need not tremble : Pero Tovar x f!reader (Explicit)(3.3k) 📚 Pero is finds himself on the receiving end of an indecent proposition.

Sinners : Pero Tovar x f!reader (Explicit)(8.4k) 📚 A promise made to protect William’s wife complicates Pero’s pursuit of you.

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Bought and Paid For: Frederick Chilton x OFC (Explicit)(13k words)[AO3] 📚 Disgusted by the idea of going to his first public event after the shooting alone - Frederick Chilton decides to hire the services of an escort for the evening.

Dove Grey Bows: Frederick Chilton x OFC (Everyone)(1k words)[AO3] 📚 Sequel to ‘Bought and Paid For’: Everything was going wrong, Chilton was definitely going to fire the person responsible - but did he have time to fix it?

Time’s Fool: Frederick Chilton x OFC of color (Explicit)(11k words)[AO3] 📚 A woman from Chilton’s past has the power to throw his entire life into disarray - but will their unfinished business ruin him or save him?

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Honorable Intentions : Aloy x Erend (Explicit)(5k) 📚 Erend offers to help Aloy before the Proving.

A Chance : Aloy x Erend  (Explicit)(5k) 📚 At the base, Erend and Aloy have a long overdue conversation.

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Dreams are sweet until they’re not : Jack 'Whiskey' Daniels x f!reader (Explicit)(8.6k) 📚 A crimson rose only ever meant one thing, death. [Soulmate AU]

Harder to Hold : Jack 'Whiskey' Daniels x f!reader (Explicit)(32.5k words) 📚 You’re confused but pleased when a handsome cowboy puts moves on you at a bar one night.

Next Time : Jack 'Whiskey' Daniels x f!reader (Teen)(2.5k words) 📚 Jack takes you out on a date. It does not go well.

This Time : Jack 'Whiskey' Daniels x f!reader (Teen) 📚 Second date with Jack.

Trust in Me : Jack Daniels vs. f!reader (Teen)(drabbles exist on their own) Jack has been assigned a bodyguard. He’s not happy about it.

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A Good Man Feelin’ Bad : Rafael Barba x OFC (Explicit)(44k words)[AO3] 📚* He really should go out more often if girls - *women* he heard Olivia correct him in his head - were this forward now.

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Baubles of Stolen Kisses : Richard Alonso Muñoz x f!reader (explicit)(17.6K words) 📚 A slow dive into the start and growth of your relationship with Richard. Deals with themes of insecurity and self-worth.

Nene : Richard Alonso Muñoz x f!reader (Teen)(2.5K words) 📚 What to expect when you and Richard are expecting.

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Crimes of Passion : Obispo ‘Bishop’ Losa x f!reader (explicit)(hiatus) You’re a good girl. And Bishop is a very bad man.

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To sell your love for peace : Javier Peña x f!reader (Explicit)(27k words) 📚 You are Javier’s newest informant. And all that that entails.

To perish twice : Javier Peña x f!reader Pt 1  ::  Pt 2  ::  Pt3 (Explicit)(7.7k) 📚 You can feel when your soulmate comes.

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Cross My Heart : Ezra x f!reader (T)(5.7k) 📚 "I do not know who I am when I am half a man.”

Lucky Stars : Ezra x GN!reader (Teen)(3.3k)📚 “Are you a good man?” “I like to believe I am a man of good intentions.”

Into the Shade : Ezra x f!reader (E)(8k) 📚 Who would fake a soulmate? [Soulmate AU]

Hold fast to dreams : Ezra x f!reader (Teen)(4.3k) 📚 Returned from the Green Ezra has debts to pay.

Blind Trust : Ezra x f!reader (Explicit)(4k words) 📚 Could he help her find her pleasure - one armed and unable to speak? Ezra was willing to bet his reputation he could.

Make dreams truths : Ezra x f!reader (Explicit)(4.3k words) 📚 Ezra had been a killer. Was known to be a rogue. Occasionally even a degenerate...

When they disentwine : Ezra x f!reader (Explicit)(4.3k words) 📚 Ezra returns to his tent to find you going though his things.

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NSFW Alphabet: Poe Dameron (NC-17) 📚 SFW Alphabet: Poe Dameron (PG) 📚

Goofballs in Love Masterlist: A series of spicy, funny one-shots about your relationship with Poe Dameron (virtually all E)

In Our Own Image… : Poe Dameron x OFC (Mostly T, has tagged M/E chapters) (64k words) 📚 Poe had a type. He’d admit it. And that type was “could kick his ass and steal his ship.” It had gotten him into trouble too many times to count in the past, and yet here he was.

Alabanza: Poe Dameron x f!Reader (Mostly T, has M/E chapters) (60k words)[AO3] 📚 A mis-delivered message causes You and Poe Dameron to become anonymous penpals. But falling for each other via letter while at the same time falling for each other in the real world leads to more than its fair share of complications.

The Art of Falling: Poe Dameron x f!Reader (Mostly T, has M/E chapters) (40k words) 📚 The arrival of Black Squadron on Ansion means a lot of new changes for you, the base's Chief Mechanic.

For the first time seen : Poe Dameron x ? (General audiences.)(2.1k words) 📚 Poe is looking for his soulmate.

Give me a ring : Poe Dameron x gn!reader (Teen)(900 words)📚 Poe tries to flirt. Key word: tries.

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Justifiable : Bud Cooper x f!Reader (Mature) (3k words) 📚 Your husband’s death leaves you the beneficiary of his policy

Death come knocking : Bud Cooper x f!Reader (Explicit)(2.4k words) 📚 Mr. Cooper is investigating your neighbor’s disappearance.

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NSFW Alphabet: Santiago Garcia 📚

War makes thieves, and peace hangs them : Mostly Santiago Garcia x f!Reader (OFC in that she is described as being moderately thin)   (Hella Explicit) (28K words or so) 📚 When Santi needs people for a mission he knows just who to call. But it quickly becomes apparent they’re short one key role - a thief. Preferably one with nice breasts who makes friends easily.

Note: Pt13: Frankie’s Epilogue can be read as a standalone

Never meet your heroes : Santiago Garcia x gn!reader (Teen)(900 words) 📚 You introduce Santiago to your dad.

Mi Hermano : Santiago Garcia x gn!reader (Teen)(1.3k words) 📚 Followup to Never meet your heroes, yours and Santi’s rehearsal dinner.

How High : Santiago Garcia x gn!reader (Teen)(1.3k words) 📚 Followup to Mi Hermano, Frankie invites a guest to drinks with the boys.

Validation : Santiago Garcia x f!reader (Explicit) (5.6k words) 📚 Santi comes home early to find his new roommate a little undressed.

Corroboration : Santiago Garcia x f!reader (Explicit) (5.6k words) 📚 Celebrating a new job and trying to keep your relationship a secret from Frankie. Maybe you two should have just stayed in - you always had more fun there. [sequel to Validation, can be read as a standalone]

Patriotic : Santiago Garcia x f!reader (Teen) (360 words) (just a little domestic drabble) 📚

Love and Cookies : no pairings (Everyone) (1.2k words) 📚 The boys help Frankie’s daughter sell cookies.

Family Friendly : Frankie Morales x f!reader [wife] (Explicit)(1.2k words) 📚 Teasing Frankie at the family BBQ.

A Triple Frontier / Jurassic Park AU. Co-written with @blueeyesatnight (Mature) (8.5k)  📚 The boys take a job on an island off the coast of Costa Rica. They are not prepared for what they find. 

A Triple Frontier / Pacific Rim AU. Co-written with @blueeyesatnight Part One - Part Two (Mature) (3.4k) 📚 It’s drift match day for the Triple Frontier boys

A Triple Frontier / Aliens AU. Co-written with @blueeyesatnight (Mature)(11k)📚 The boys take a job at a colony in the far reaches. They are (yet again) not prepared for what they find.

Teaser

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Half Empty: Nevada Ramirez x f!Reader (Explicit)(13k words)[AO3] 📚 It was supposed to be a fresh start, a new business and a new life in Washington Heights. But when Nevada Ramirez strolls through the door of your bar, demanding ten thousand dollars for his ‘protection’, you find yourself negotiating with your body. You can only hope you find the money before he loses interest.

Debt Makes Promises: Nevada Ramirez x OFC (Explicit)(47k words)[AO3]📚 When she asks Nevada Ramirez for a favor she’s expected to give one in return.

Further on the Edge: Nevada Ramirez x OFC (Explicit)(21k words)[AO3] 📚 Drawn together by circumstance - Nevada meets a woman who gives him a run for his money. But she’s not quite what she presents herself to him…

Oh Santa : Michael Perry x f!reader (Teen)(1k words)📚 You and Michael have the same idea one Christmas.

I refuse to give him a whole header but I also wrote a Dave York thing...

[mariamariquinha]

Writing Update

This post is out of respect for everyone who has been following me since I started sharing my stories here. I'll leave it pinned on the profile so don't worry!

Versos de Placer

I'm already well ahead of the last chapter, but I haven't touched the story in months for reasons of: I'm very tired. At some point I will finish it (I still need a good ending) and until that happens, I have no news about it. As soon as I have it, I'll let you know!

Bossa Nova

(i don't know why i used this gif but it somehow always makes me aware of how unhinged he is lol)

Update: I finished and it's already published! 😉

This one is closer to being published, but also without a date. Once I finish Versos de Placer, I'll be more comfortable just focusing on it and IT WILL BE THE LAST 'LONG FANFIC' AROUND HERE (at least for a loooong time). I'm experimenting with some ideas about it, revisiting what I've already done and what the next steps will be, but you can count on more Benny!

Narcos

When you go to my profile, you will see that Javier Peña and Steve Murphy are marked 'no longer writing for', and that is… the truth. Maybe in the future I'll come back to them, but I need the right idea and the right mindset, as this particular fandom is curiously complicated. Their stories are still available!

Requests

I'll close them here. Yeah, well, there's not much of a secret, so just understand that I don't have the constant writing capacity to meet demands in this regard. Call me old-fashioned, but I like to believe in a story instead of just writing it. I'll leave this in my bio too!

AO3

Since the end of last year I have been studying the possibility of starting to work more with AO3. It's a platform that I know little about, so I want to make sure I know how to use it before I start producing there. You will also find out when this will happen.

Last but not least... New characters

Everything I did outside the box (with Gurney, Dave York and Mike Duarte) were more writing experiments. I'm always open to doing something like that, as is the case with James Wilson (which I've been maturing and CONSIDERING), but for now the only characters I write for are:

Alfie Solomons (Peaky Blinders)

Horacio Carrillo (Narcos)

Will Miller (Triple Frontier)

Jonathan Levy (Scenes from a Marriage)

Benny Magalon (Den of Thieves)

Frank Castle (The Punisher)

Some always appear more than others, but they are all still in my orbit! Who doesn't love a mix of ambiguous police officers with ex-military men who need therapy and a dash of divorced university professors?

If you have any questions, my DM and ask box are open! 😉

[nocturnal-milk-dud]

sometimes self-care is writing smutty fanfic that no one ever sees

[nocturnal-milk-dud]

"You had gotten Benny to wear a t-shirt for once, telling him if he didn’t you’d rip all the sleeves off his shirts"

I just wrote this and Idk if I just need to go to bed but I can't stop laughing

@massivecolorspygiant

[mariamariquinha]

Masterlist

Hi guys! I'm Maria and I welcome you to my main masterlist! ❤

Before you can get to my works, it's important to read the warnings below:

This is a +18 blog. Most stories will have mature themes, explicit language or sexual content;

DO NOT translate or copy any of my works without my consent;

If you wanna be added to a character’ taglist, let me know;

ALL OF MY STORIES are fiction. No place or context, even if it has historical or truthful content, has no connection with the narratives created here;

All fanfics have a creative value for THE CHARACTERS, not the ACTORS. None of the professionals who worked on the canonical works of inspiration will be or are harmed in the creation process.

Now let's meet the stories, shall we?

Peaky Blinders

Alfie Solomons 

A Tale of Camden Town

Distraction

Triple Frontier

Will “Ironhead” Miller

Pomegranate

like a tattoo

Narcos

Horacio Carrillo 

Versos de Placer - Series

So high

privilege.

She

Random Carrillo thought: Jealously

Horacio Carrillo's Wardrobe: A study

The Blue Suit

Den of Thieves

Benny “Borracho” Magalon 

Bound

Bossa Nova - Series

Benny Magalon's Wardrobe: A study

Scenes From a Marriage

Jonathan Levy 

Meetings and Greetings

Chilean, Camembert

[brandyllyn]

Hi Brandy! 3 & 14 for the fanfic ask game

3 favorite line/scene you wrote this year

The scene between you and Poe in Alabanza after he finds you again. I broke my own heart with it.

"You told me I could go. You told me I could run." It’s a plea. You hate the strain in your voice, the begging. But you can’t do this. You can’t.

"I did," comes his reply, close enough to make you shudder. "I never said I wouldn’t chase you."

14 a fic you didn’t expect to write

This is a popular question so I'll give you my non-Max answer... Adventurous for Benny Borracho Magalon. It's a fandom I wasn't in, but @youvebeenlivingfictional got me interested. So I watched the movie and next thing I had it written. I put it all on Maurice Compte. He's so pretty.

[mylittlelonelyappreciation]

Ok, Benny working out around/with Techie...do we just end up sitting and watching like 😍. Sweaty, flexing pecs and arms...

Oof magoof we are all having such a THOTFUL MONDAY NIGHT and you know what?? I love it for us? Also that gif mother of god

Borracho’s apartment building has a gym. Yours didn’t, so you count it as an additional perk when you agree to move in with him. “See, these are the kind of amenities you get when you spend more money on rent and less on coffee,” He teases you as the two of you head down there. “Don’t start in on that, Magalon,” You groan. You’re not in the mood - it’s too early and you haven’t even had your first coffee yet. Borracho just chuckles and cups your chin and tips your head up for a kiss. “You gotta wake up, sweetness,” He lets his hand slide around to pat you on the ass and get you moving out of the elevator. You grunt, but you go. You’ve been to the gym in the building a couple of times now, but you’ve gone on your own.

The two of you set your things down, put your headphones in, go your separate ways. The gym isn’t state-of-the-art or incredibly expansive, but it’s big enough that you can zone out without catching sight of your boyfriend for a while. And that’s why when you do catch sight of him, your jaw drops a little bit. Look, you know he’s in shape. You’ve seen him But the sight of Borracho laid back on a bench, pressing a bar over his head is making you think… Some things. A lot of things. You glance around. You can’t see any cameras, and there isn’t anyone else in there. You turn off your music and tuck your phone and headphones into the pocket of your leggings, abandoning your own set. You walk over slowly, watching him and biting your lip. He’s so focused, too -- taking even breaths in, pushing them out. You can see the sweat dripping from his forehead, his arms are glistening, holy shit… You wait until he’s lowered the bar back into its place and let his fingers go slack before you settle over him in one swift movement, straddling his hips. He blinks up at you in surprise before a smile curls at his lips. “What are you doing?” He asks. “I think we should go finish our workout upstairs.” Borracho’s brows raise, and he sits up slowly. “Don’t wanna finish it right here?” He puts his hands on your hips and drags you flush against him, and you have to fight not to groan aloud. You shake your head, looking down at where his tank is sweaty, stuck to his chest. “No,” You murmur, “I don’t want the neighbors getting an eyeful.” “I didn’t know you were possessive, sweetness,” Borracho’s fingers curl in the fabric of your shirt, and you smile. “Only about certain things,” You squirm in his lap and he groans, tightening his hold on you to still you. “So?” You tip your head to the side, “Are you finishing up there or down here?” Borracho licks his lips before he lightly swats your thigh and nods to where you left your water bottle: “Grab your shit, let’s go.” 

[mylittlelonelyappreciation]

This was everything I didn’t know I needed! Thank you!

Can I ask how Benny and Techie might ring in the New Year? 😋

Um absolutely yes of course!! I made this one too long as well!! Whoops!!

This is the second year that the two of you are dating (since, the first year you’re dating, you’re back home with your family, as you may recall from the Techie and Borracho Holiday Special).

So, oddly, the Magalons aren’t all that big on is New Year’s. Maybe it’s because they go so hard on Christmas, but by the time New Year’s Eve rolls around, they’re worn out. You and Borracho don’t have any plans with them, so you wind up making plans with the guys.

You’re expecting a fiasco, if you’re being totally honest. You love the guys, sure, but you’ve been out with them enough times to know that their usual haunt looks like. What it turns out to be, though, is a round of drinks at Z’s place (which, holy shit, is nice and not what you expected at all. I mean the guy is always pretty put together, but you hadn’t expected his apartment to look so...Lived in), a good dinner at an Italian place nearby, and then you guys settle in at a nice bar. Henderson’s friends with the owner; the team helped the guy out before you joined, so the drinks are half price and twice as boozy as they need to be. You make it a point to pace yourself, but only because you know that it’s going to be a long night, and that’s going to be twice as fun to watch the guys get absolutely slammed at twice the speed. Mind you, it still takes a while, none of the guys are lightweights. You and Borracho still take your time, though. And the guys are still… The guys. They’ve kinda backed off of that ‘tell your girlfriend to behave’ shit that had started when you and Borracho told them that you were together (or, more accurately, when Connors had caught the two of you making out in the Starbucks parking lot, had spread a rumor that you were together, and then unfairly placed a bet about the likelihood of said rumor being true - a bet that he had won). They still rib you, and you still rib them right back. But it’s a little different this time, when Borracho’s arm is wrapped around you, and Nick points between the two of you and asks, “So you really think this is gonna work?” 

And that’s… Not where you thought the night was going. The guys haven’t put you on the spot like this before. 

Borracho’s sisters have, a little, but he wasn’t around, and they’d phrased it differently - things like, ‘So how is it going?’ and ‘You guys seem happy’ - questions and statements with sharp implications, couched in soft, easy-to-bat-at lobs. 

The table’s gone quiet around you; everything that was light and comfy is now testy and tense. And at first you’re struck by Nick’s blunt question, though you shouldn’t be - it’s Nick, he’s always blunt. And then you remind yourself to calm down; Nick’s divorced was just finalized the day before, and he’s still stinging. Maybe he just needs something or someone to be sore at. Rather than give an answer, you counter with a question: “Why wouldn’t it?” 

The guys’ gazes flit from you to Nick. He’s watching you closely, eyes searching your face for something -- and you don’t know what he’s looking for, but you’re praying to anyone that’ll listen that he doesn’t find it. “...If it doesn’t--” “No,” You shake your head, stopping Nick in his tracks, “We don’t talk like that.” 

Henderson sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth next to you, leans back over his chair, looks at the floor like he just spotted a hundred dollar bill. Connors and Zapata are looking at the ceiling like cherubs have just popped out of it. Borracho’s arm tightens around your shoulders, and you don’t know if it’s support or a warning or an anchor, you just know that he’s there and that he’s solid and that he’s got you. Nick nods a little bit, still staring you down. Zapata suggests shots to break the tension. It mostly works. It gets Nick to stop looking at you, at least. Borracho turns his head and murmurs into your hair, offering to get out of there, telling you that the two of you can leave any time. And god, you want nothing more than to go home and curl up on the couch with him, or maybe curl up in bed, but you know Nick, and you know that if you dip now, he’ll see it as backing down, even though you shut him up. So instead you turn your head and nudge your nose against Borracho’s and murmur that it’s alright. You can see the look in his eyes, though, the concern. You reach up and cup his cheek, gently teasing your nails through his goatee like you always do when you want to reassure him. You’re not sure it’s worked, though. You hear him push a soft sigh out through his nose, and you murmur again, “It’s alright, Benny.” --

The two of you do leave, but only because the bar gets shut down - some asshole got into a fight with Connors in the mens room, and why anyone would even bother getting into a fight with Connors, you will never know. You wind up back at your place ten minutes before midnight. You don’t have access to the roof, so you can’t watch any fireworks taking place in the city. Borracho flicks the tv to watch the countdown on the news before tossing the remote onto the couch cushion. He’s still peeved. He’s been peeved since Nick asked what he did, said what he said. You steer him to sit down on the couch and settle down on his lap, your legs stretch across the cushions. He rests his head on your shoulder, his arms curling protectively around your waist, and you comb your fingers through his hair, disrupting the neat way he’d combed it earlier that evening.

“I’m sorry,” He finally mumbles. You frown and peer down at him.

“What the hell are you sorry for?”

“I should’ve said something.”

“What?”

You lean back, trying to get a better look at him, but he’s pressing his face into your neck now, hiding from you.

“Benny.”

“I should’ve said something, sweetness,” He reiterates when he does turn his head from your neck. And then you see a tightness in his jaw that you didn’t notice before.

“Baby,” You murmur, hand shifting from his hair to cup his cheek, “I’m not upset with you -- you spend way more time with Nick than I do.”

“All the more reason.”

You can’t seem to shake him from this.

“Look,” You tip his head up to look at you, “We both know I’m not going anywhere. Now he does, too. What does it matter how the message got across?”

Borracho shakes his head a little bit.

“I didn’t think he’d keep asking.”

“I didn’t either,” You run your nails lightly over his goatee again, “It’s everything that’s going on with Debbie. He needs someone to take it out on and we were just the easiest targets.”

You can hear them counting down from ten on the television - it’s nearly midnight.

“I love you,” The words are out of Borracho’s mouth like they’ve never been said before - they leave him with a fierceness, like they’re a fucking swear, an oath, like he’s trying to drill them into you.

You rest your forehead to his and smooth your hand over his jaw, then his neck, and settle against his chest and try to soothe all that’s fired up in him now.

“I know, Benny. I love you, too,” You murmur. You lean down, capturing his lips as the clock strikes midnight.

You can hear fireworks from the television, and on the street; people are screaming “Happy New Year!” outside and honking car horns.

Borracho clutches tighter to you for a few moments before you feel his arm slide away. And then it’s under your knees and he’s standing and scooping you up with him. You squeal, throwing your arms around his shoulders and laughing as he carries you into your bedroom.

--

Let’s just say, after that, New Year’s Eve is something that the two of you prefer to spend alone. 

[bobafetts-princess]

Timezone reblog 🫶🏻

Good Luck Charms

Months 7-12

Summary: After things have become a touch less frosty between you and Detective Magalon, you find that you actually like the man quite a bit. Maybe more than you bargained for.

Pairings: Benny ‘Borracho’ Magalon x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 7.5K

Warnings: cursing, canon-typical sexism, mentions of substance issues (pain meds), someone gets shot.

A/N: This is slow burnnnnnnnnnnn

Months 1-6 can be found here!

MONTH 7

Month 7 is when things change.

It’s a raid. You’ve all been on one before but never together and the guys have never seen you this dressed down. They’ve only ever seen you in work clothes; pencil skirts and jackets, power suits, wrap dresses, slacks and silk blouses. You never have a hair out of place, it’s always styled with the perfect work makeup.

But today your hair is braided, you’ve got on jeans and a pink button down and brown boots, with a bulletproof vest over the top. Not an ounce of makeup. It’s a different side of you and the guys don’t know what to make of it.

“Fed? Is that you?”

“What’ve you done with the chick that comes to the office every day?”

“Well damn I didn’t know you owned a pair of jeans!”

You roll your eyes at all of them, flipping them the bird which makes them cackle. Detective Magalon doesn’t say anything, but it doesn’t bother you.

Really. It doesn’t.

But the raid goes sideways, only a little. One of the ATF guys doesn’t clear a room completely and you get shot.

Well, not really shot. More like grazed. It rips a hole in arm of your shirt and slices you deep enough that you think you’ll need stitches, but you’re alive and that’s the important part. You’re just lucky it was your non-dominant arm so you can still pull the trigger.

Detective Magalon takes the guy down and checks on you, but you wave him off. It’s not the first time you’ve been shot and in your line of work? It won’t be the last either.

“I’m fine. Finish the raid. Suspect is in the center,” you yell over the sound of gunfire. Big Nick finds him and tackles him down, wrestling with the gun and managing to get it away from him. You’re next in, jumping on the suspects back and getting cuffs on him before he has a chance to get away.

You’re running on pure adrenaline and haul the suspect up, it’s the head of cocaine sect of the organization. Catching him alive was the number 1 priority of this mission and you and Detective Magalon (with the help of his team) have succeeded. You shove him out, handing him off to Mike to be booked and turn, looking to the team. They’re exchanging high fives and cheers and Detective Magalon smiles at you. Henderson comes to high five you and you raise your arm to give him one back. You’re smiling and relieved until a shot of pain goes through your arm and you have to drop it.

Benny knows you got shot. He was there when you jerked, grabbed the spot and yelled at him to keep going. He knows you got shot even though you cuffed the suspect and marched him out. He really knows you got shot though when you move to give Henderson a high five and gasp in pain. Medical doesn’t arrive quick enough (in his opinion, at least) but they end up patching you up. They’ve gotta strip you out of that pretty pink button up, leaving you in a white undershirt and jeans as they give you stitches in the back of an ambulance. Benny notices a tattoo along your collarbone that he hadn’t seen before and he wants to get a closer look.

“You good?” He asks, stepping over after being checked himself. You glance up at him and Benny is surprised to see a light dancing in your eyes, the after-effects of an adrenaline rush no doubt. The guys are behind him, checking in on you at the same time he is. He catches some words and a date, something he definitely can’t see when you wear your buttoned up power suits and those fucking pencil skirts.

“I’m good, Detective,” your eyes are flicking between them all and you turn your body, wincing slightly as the needle punctures skin and he reads what the ink says. ‘How lucky am I to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard’. Benny wonders if it’s about an ex but shakes the thought away before it can take root. Why would you get a tattoo about an ex anyways? Stupid thought. But then you’re speaking again, drawing Benny’s attention. “It’s not the first time I’ve been shot. At least this one didn’t require surgery.” You quip and Benny’s eyebrows raise at the insinuation. He knows the group chat is gonna blow up about this little insight into your life in a while and Benny already wants to put his phone on mute.

************

MONTH 8

With month 8 comes…..coffee? You’ve found this little hole in the wall place by your government issued apartment that serves fantastic coffee. They open at 5:30 in the morning, so when you get there at 5:45, the coffee is hot and fresh. They know you by first name at this point and know what time you come by in the morning. It’s easier than making drip coffee and it tastes better too.

Well one morning your alarm doesn’t go off. Or you shut it off. Or you sleep through it. You’re not really sure what happens. But you do know when you open your eyes and check the clock and see 7:30, you’re flying out of bed. You dress and clean up in record time and are out the door by 8:15, to your coffee shop by 8:20 and ordered before 8:25.

It’s 8:45 before you get a coffee in hand.

“I’m so sorry honey!” Shouts the owner, a stunning woman in her late 60’s. “One of my girls has the flu and one of our coffee machines broke!”

“It’s okay Mrs. Akron,” you assure her but god you are so late. You’re never late. Ever.

“Here darling,” she says, out of breath and frazzled. “Take a large black coffee, on me!” She thrusts your caramel macchiato at you as well as the large black. You start to protest but she won’t let you. “I insist! You’re running late and probably overslept, so you might need an afternoon boost. Take it,” she says, closing your hand around the cup. You nod at her, stopping to stuff a $50 in the tip jar before you make it to work. You roll in at 9:00, three hours late. The entire office whips their heads up and watches you walk in but you refuse to let it bother you.

“You good?” Detective Magalon asks and doesn’t press when you nod.

“Do you drink black coffee?” You ask before you lose the nerve. He’s bought you so much food, the least you can do is give him your extra coffee. “My coffee shop gave me an extra and….” You trail off, setting the coffee on his desk and taking a seat without an answer.

“Thanks.”

You simply nod but a couple times a week you bring him a large black coffee.

*************

MONTHS 9&10

Months nine and ten brings a trial and it’s a long trial. The examination and cross examination and evidence and witnesses take nearly 6 weeks. You and Detective Magalon spend nearly every waking hour together, working with the district attorney to make sure all goes the way it should.

You’re both emotionally, mentally, and physically drained and by the time the jury is sent off to make their own decision, you feel like you can nap for hours.

In fact, you do.

The couch in the district attorney’s office is so dammed comfortable and you’re sitting next to Detective Magalon, whose body is just radiating heat. You’d both just finished testifying, his took 3 hours and yours took 4. You’re silent next to each other, too drained from all the information you had to recall and all the talking.

The next thing you know, you wake up. Your head is resting against Detective Magalon’s shoulder and you might (you’ll deny if anyone asks) have drooled on his shoulder. You push off him and get some distance between your bodies.

“Oh shit, I’m so sorry. This case has taken it out of me. How long did I sleep?”

“Three hours.” He says, clicking his phone shut and looking at you.

“Oh my fucking god, you’re kidding? I’m so sorry,” you tell him but he waves you off.

“It’s been a long trial. I don’t blame you for being tired,” he says, standing. You hear his knees crack when he does and see a wince of pain cross his face as he makes his way to the restroom.

Oh my god, he let you sleep even though he had to piss? There’s no way you’re unpacking that right now.

Benny never tells you that he fell asleep too.

When the verdict comes back a few weeks later and the suspect is found guilty as sin, you celebrate. It’s only one person, only one head of the hydra you’re dealing with, but it’s something.

The guys get a couple packs of beer and one Friday after work, you drink together.

“Fed! You have to hang with us for a little while. You just had your first successful trial with us,” Connors insists and you agree to stay.

“One beer!” You tell them and they laugh and wave you off. It’s the first time you’ve ever drank with them and you’re so damn careful not to overdo it. They shoot the shit, swapping stories and peppering you with questions you refuse to answer.

“Still no boyfriend?”

“Is it hard working around such attractive dudes all the time?”

“Ever smoked weed? Does smoking disqualify you from being a fed?”

“You seem like the type to own a cat”

“Got a hot sister?”

Benny notices the last one makes you wince and he wonders why. Then he tells himself that it’s none of his business. But then he thinks of your tattoo and he can’t help but try to put the pieces together.

“Even if I did I wouldn’t tell you.”

“I wouldn’t know, all y’all are ugly.”

“No it doesn’t disqualify you.”

“That’s a weird statement.”

You swallow hard before you answer the last one.

“Doesn’t matter if I do, none of you are meeting her.”

Benny can see you’re uncomfortable and he doesn’t want the guys to latch on. So he takes the reins of the conversation, asking Big Nick about his latest divorce. Of course he launches into a huge speech about how it’s not his fault that he likes pussy so much and blah blah blah.

Benny shoots you a glance and notices you looking at him. You give him a small nod and raise your bottle in thanks.

At least, Benny thinks it’s in thanks.

********

MONTH 11

Month 11 earns you a nickname.

It’s another raid. Another head of the hydra that you’re looking for. You wear basically the same outfit, only this time the button down is army green instead of soft pink.

“You ready?” Magalon asks you, standing next to you and you wonder if he’s thinking of the last raid where you got shot. He’s wearing a long-sleeved black shirt with a grey LASD beanie over his hair. He hasn’t shaved in a few days and you see the strong salt-and-pepper there. It makes you twitch, low in your belly and wonder if he has-Jesus. A raid. You’re wearing a goddamned bulletproof vest and are getting ready to charge into a building where you might potentially get shot. Tamp that shit down.

“Yeah. I don’t think anyone is ever fully ready but I’m as ready as I can be,” you tell him, twisting your neck to look up at him.

“Try not to get shot this time,” he chuckles, looking at you. You nod, smiling as well and promising to do your best.

You get shot.

You actually get fucking shot.

It happens in a flash, one second the LAPD is declaring the room and by extension the building clear. The next second, you’re on the ground absolutely gasping for air.

“What the fuck?” Connors yells, pointing his gun that direction as Magalon covers your body with his own.

“You’re like a fucking magnet for bullets,” Magalon grumbles at you, grabbing you by the shoulder straps and moving to haul you out.

“Stop,” you gasp. “I’m fine, got the wind knocked out of me,” you tell him, pushing him off. The last thing you need is him getting shot in the back because he’s worried about you. “Get the suspect,” you tell him, pushing him off and finding cover behind a couple barrels off to your left. There’s a few more shots and a small shout of pain, hopefully from someone that isn’t on your side, before everything stops.

The barrels are moved out of the way and your gun flies up before you see who it is. Magalon. You never thought you’d be so happy to see him. “He’s cuffed. Connors shot him in the shoulder too but he’ll be fine. Unfortunately. Come on, you need a hospital,”

“No. No hospital. I’m fine,” you insist.

“Bullshit. Can you walk or do I need to carry you?”

“I’m fine. Seriously.”

“I guess I’m carrying you,” he says, handing his gun to Big Nick and moving to take off his own bulletproof vest.

“Damnit, I can walk,” you say, moving to stand.

“Good. Walk yourself to the ambulance so we can go to the hospital,” his jaw is set and you know that you’re going to end up at the hospital whether you like it or not.

“Fucking stubborn ass,” you snipe at him as you pass your own gun off to Connors.

“I’m going to get you a four leaf clover for luck, maybe then you’ll stop getting shot,” he shoots back and you can hear the frustration laced in his tone. As well as something else? Fear? Surely not.

“Ha!” Big Nick laughs and everyone turns to look at him. “That’s the perfect nickname for our fed. Clover,” and you groan because you know it’s going to stick. There’s no way it’s not going to stick. You don’t even get a chance to think about them calling you ‘our’ fed until you’re in the waiting room of the hospital.

—————————

“It’s two broken ribs and a nasty bruise,” says the ER doctor, sticking your x-rays up. “Desk duty for the next two months,” she tells you and you groan. Magalon hasn’t left your side yet, the others have, reports to write and debriefs to be held. “I’m going to give you some pain meds, I think the adrenaline hasn’t worn off yet and that’s the reason you aren’t feeling much pain.” You have been feeling pain but downplaying it in the hopes of fooling the doctor. Unfortunately for you, x-rays can’t fool a doctor. “I’m also going to insist that you take the next four days off, bed rest.”

She stares you down and you have no choice but to nod and agree. She turns to Magalon and says “as her partner, I fully expect you to keep her from over-exerting. And absolutely no sex until those ribs are healed,” she wags her finger at the two of you and you both splutter at the same time.

“We’re no-“

“It’s not like-“

The poor woman is confused and you can see why because Magalon introduced himself as your partner when they brought you back to the waiting room.

“I’m FBI,” you explain.

“I’m LA County Sheriffs Department. We’re partners on a case,” Magalon finishes the explanation.

“Ah, well. Regardless,” she points her fingers at you, “you’re on bed rest for four days.” She turns to Magalon, “I don’t know if you can make that happen but I expect you should try.” He nods and she moves to leave the room. “And I know you’re not being truthful about how much pain you’re in,” she points at you again and your face heats. Her finger swings to Magalon, “make sure she takes a pain medication. Take it with food. It’ll probably put you to sleep,” she warns before she heads out.

She must decide that either you aren’t going to take one or Magalon isn’t going to be able to convince you to take one because a nurse makes you take one before you’re allowed to leave.

“She’ll need another one in four hours,” she warns before she takes off. And of course, it takes almost 45 minutes to get out. Between filling the script and getting discharged, by the time you make it to the parking lot you’re a zombie. It’s been a long day and you’re sore, exhausted, and grouchy.

“I had the guys bring your car,” he tells you and you nod. “What’s your address? I need it to get you home,” he says. His voice is soft, like one you would use around a skittish dog as he helps you into the passenger seat but your tongue is thick and heavy and you can’t form words.

By the time Benny makes it back to the drivers seat, you’re asleep. Passed out against the center console and Benny can’t help but smile. You look so soft and peaceful and not at all like a woman who just got shot.

Benny decides to take you to his place since he doesn’t know how to get to yours. He bridal carries you up the stairs to his apartment and manages to get you inside without waking you. Benny settles you down in his bed, unsure of whether to leave your clothes the way they are or try to change you into something comfortable and decides to go with the latter.

He removes your shirt, hoping you’ve got a tank underneath it like last time and is relieved to find one. He slips one of his t shirts over your head, pulling it down across your body before reaching under to pull down the tank. He refuses to look at the tattoo, knowing it’ll kick his brain into overdrive if he does. When he removes the undershirt, Benny must brush against your bruise because you groan in pain but he manages to get it off without waking you. Remembering an old trick from a previous lifetime, he unsnaps your bra and pulls it out the arm holes of the shirt, tossing it with the tank. Jeans are last and he makes sure to keep the shirt pulled all the way down as he blindly unbuttons and strips you. Finally, he tucks you under the covers and grabs a pillow to take to the couch. He sets an alarm and passes the fuck out.

The thing that wakes you is the aching pain in your ribs. You groan, doing your best to sit up but god, they hurt so bad. Glancing around the room you expect to see your collection of plants and pink sheets, but are surprised by bare walls and black sheets.

“Where the fuck-“ you start but then Magalon appears in the doorway. It’s that moment that you realize you’ve been changed into clothes that aren’t yours and you narrow your eyes at him.

“I didn’t see anything. I closed my eyes,” he tells you, crossing the room. “I had to take you to my place because you fell asleep before you could give me your address,” he explains. He’s got a protein bar in one hand and a cup in the other and he hands the cup to you first. “It’s time for your next pain med,” he drops the little pill in your hand, “I know your ribs hurt,” he gives you a pointed look. Grimacing you take the pill and chase it with the water.

“Thank you,” you say when he hands you the protein bar. Scarfing it down, you glance up at him as he nods. “I’m sorry I fell asleep. God, you probably had to carry me inside, didn’t you?” Magalon chuckles and nods.

“I need to tell you that I’m not leaving your side until you can go back to work,” and you open your mouth to protest. “Nope. No arguments. I’m more than happy to take you back to your own place if that would make you more comfortable, but you are stuck with me,” he says and you can tell he isn’t going to argue with you about it and you don’t have the energy to try either.

“Fine. How did you get me changed without ‘seeing anything’?” You smile as he explains, careful not to laugh because you know that it’s going to hurt. “I need to shower. Do you think I’ve got enough time before this kicks in?”

“Not sure, but I think it might be safer to wait until you’ve rested a little more,” you can’t help but agree because as he leaves the bedroom again you feel the deep weight of exhaustion overtake you again and before you know it, you’re out.

—————————

The next time you wake, Benny is already there and waiting for you.

“No, I want to try to shower first,” shaking your head at him and trying to sit up. Goddamn, your ribs hurt. He gives you a hand and leads you to the bathroom.

“I’m sure I don’t have the right…anything. But feel free to use anything in my shower,” he says. “But leave the door unlocked just in case you need me. Do you want me to try to make you something to eat?” Your stomach gives an aggressive grumble at that exact moment and he laughs. “Fried egg sandwich? Coffee?” Nodding at both he takes off to his kitchen. Heading into the bathroom, you flip on the lights and take a look at yourself in the mirror. You look like absolute shit. Red eyes, dark circles, your hair is a mess and a half. You haven’t washed your face recently and you know that the shower is going to dry your skin out. Of course Magalon doesn’t have any body lotion either.

Stripping off the tshirt, one of Magalon’s no doubt, you inspect the large bruise on your right side. It takes up almost your entire ribcage, stretching from under your breasts to almost touching your hipbone and it’s a nasty deep purple. It’ll only worsen over the next couple days too, turning brown to green to yellow. When you turn on the shower, you realize you don’t have a clean towel.

“Magalon?” You call out and hear his answering response. “I don’t have a towel, can you bring me one?” There’s silence, then he calls back that he’ll do it in just a second. Locating a brush, you step into the shower and groan at the hot water on your skin. Magalon has a nice shower, a cool grey tile with glass doors. And he has several body washes to choose from. And an actual shampoo and conditioner, not a 4-in-1 combo. You wash your hair with one hand because it hurts to raise the other and skip washing your feet cause you can’t bend over to reach them, but damn do you feel better.

The towel and a pair of sweats is right outside the bathroom door when you get out. You try to rip a brush through your hair, but the exertion makes your ribs hurt too much. So instead, you dress and head to the kitchen. Magalon is in there, plating a sandwich and setting it next to a cup of coffee. Your damn ribs are absolutely aching but right now? You’re more hungry than you are anything else.

“You don’t have to do this.”

“I know. But you’re my partner and I’ve got your back.” Swoon. No-wait. No swoon. Swooning is bad.

“Can I ask you for a small favor?” He nods and you hold out the brush. “It hurts too much to try and brush it.” He takes the brush and looks at it a little funny before he moves to stand behind you. He’s so gentle with it, afraid to put any tension on your head and hurt you. He gets through it as you sip on the coffee, (black, gross) and it doesn’t take him much time and you feel so much better when he’s done.

“Do you want to take your pill now or after you eat?” You opt for now and he hands it to you with a cup of water. “Still tired? Did showering hurt? Do you need to nap?”

“A little but not like I was. No, I feel a lot better being clean. I guess we’ll have to see.”

“Do you want to head back to yours or stay here for now?”

“I’d like to go back to my place, but maybe food first,” Magalon nods and you suppose you should be calling him Benny now. “Clover is gonna stick, isn’t it?” He looses a chuckle and grabs his phone, pulling up a text thread.

Big Nick: How’s Clover?

Benny: Fine. She’s resting. Pain pills took her out.

A couple hours later.

Z: Clover still out?

Benny: Ya. Long day for her. She’s at mine.

Big Nick: Damn Borracho, how did you get that to happen?

Z: OooOOooooHHhhhhh

Connors: Apparently only drugged women go home with you.

Henderson: Y’all are obnoxious

Benny: Fell asleep before I could get her address.

A couple hours later.

Connors: Clover good? Still out?

Benny: Ya. And ya.

Henderson: You know Borracho, my favorite thing about you is how conversational you are.

You snort a laugh and immediately regret it, grabbing at your ribs.

“Are they always like that?”

“As long as I’ve known them. They’ve taken to you though, more than any other person we’ve worked with. Man or woman.”

“Why do you think that is?”

“They’re used to other departments being straight-laced and talking shit about us. You haven’t done that. You call the guys out when they need it and let shit slide that doesn’t. They respect that,” he says, shrugging.

“Is that what happened with the other female agents that worked with you guys?” And he nods.

“By now you know how they are and if they think they’ve found something that’ll bother you, they dig in. And they don’t know when to quit.”

Nodding you ask, “is that how you got the nickname Borracho?” It’s a far cry from how you made fun of his nickname all those months ago. He sighs heavily and you know it’s a story that irritates him a little.

“One time, back when it was Big Nick, Henderson and me, we had a work event. It was fancy and an open bar, so I naturally got shit-faced. Nick and his first wife had to help me out and make sure I didn’t vomit all over myself. Nick started calling me Borracho and I never got rid of it, especially once they realized I hate it.” Your sandwich is gone by now and you move to go put the plate in the sink but Benny stops you. He takes the plate and puts it in the dishwasher before coming to sit next to you again.

“That’s a horrible way to get a nickname,” you smile at him and he smiles back.

“Tell me about it.” A pause. “Getting shot is a much cooler way to get a nickname,” and you shoot him a small glare. “Do you want to try and nap again or are you alright?” Between the shower and the conversation, you’re exhausted again so you opt for another nap. “While you sleep I’m gonna run to the office and grab some files so I can get some work done while I’m out,” he tells you and you nod, drifting back down the hallway to his room. Pulling back the sheets and sliding in, you don’t even hear the front door shut before you’re asleep again.

—————————

You’ve forgotten how much you hate being on bed rest. It’s been years since you last were but good god it is awful. At least there’s company. Once Benny got back from the office with a box in the SUV and some get-wells from the boys, you’d finally felt rested. You got Benny to take you back to your own apartment and he chuckles when he walks in.

“This is the girliest place I’ve ever been in.”

“Leave my decoration choices alone,” but he’s not wrong. Everything is soft and feminine, a grey couch with pink and grey pillows. A baby pink sheets and comforter set and plants everywhere. “Thanks. Seriously. I appreciate you staying with me to make sure I’m okay.”

“No coffee machine?” He asks in lieu of a response.

“I only get coffee from that one place,” you remind him. “It’s easier and it tastes better than drip coffee from a pot.” He laughs and says whatever before he sets the files on your counter.

“Two more days, then you can go back to work,” he reminds you and you stick your tongue out at him when his back is turned. Your ribs still ache but you can at least take a pain pill and not pass out within 20 minutes, so that’s an improvement. “Do you want to sift through these files with me?” He asks and you groan. You don’t, you’re too foggy. “Okay okay, we don’t have to,” he chuckles and turns to you. “What do you feel like doing?”

Truth be told, you want to watch a show. Your favorite romantic show just released a new season last week and you want to get caught up. But it’s steamy and not a show to be watched with a coworker so you say, “is there a game on?” Benny quirks a brow at you and you sigh. You like sports but you just aren’t in the mood for them.

“What do you actually want to watch?” When you give him the name of the show he belly laughs and says “let’s watch it. Cmon. I want to see what it’s like.”

Two hours and several spicy scenes later, Benny is deeply invested in this show. He keeps asking questions and insisting things don’t make sense, but that’s only because he hasn’t seen the first couple seasons. If it didn’t hurt so much to laugh, you would be in absolute tears by now because who knew that Detective Magalon from the LASD would be into regency romances?

“Who is that man?”

“They’re in the garden alone. Don’t they have to get married now?”

“He touched her tit, they definitely have to get married now.

“Who is this entire family?”

Finally you get tired of answering his questions and suggest that you start the whole series over, so he can be caught up. He gives you a side eye, but you ignore it, starting from Season 1 Episode 1 and let it play. The two of you get through the first four episodes before it’s time for another pain med, you’re trying to stretch out the time you need them so you can wean. After you take it you curl into the couch, Benny at one end and you at the other. It doesn’t take long for this one to knock you out and eventually you’re stretched out, your head in Benny’s lap as he finishes the season by himself.

He picks you up as gently as he can, walking you down the hall to settle you into your own bed. He takes the time to examine the pictures hung up in the hallway when he heads back to the couch. He notices a girl in your pictures, one so similar in a way that’s more than just a sibling. You both look about the same age and share the exact same smile, often the both of you holding matching Winnie the Pooh plushies. The pictures of the two of you stop when you reach late teens, Benny guesses somewhere between 17-19. It’s just you now, you and your parents, you and another sibling, a brother. Benny starts taking the pieces and putting them together. A memorial tattoo, a refusal to talk about your family. A decided sensitive spot about your sister, or lack of? Benny doesn’t want to make assumptions, he knows what they say about assuming. But he’s a cop, a long time cop, and he knows how to make an educated guess.

You wake in your own bed, surrounded by your fluffy pink comforter and a deep ache in your ribs. It’s not time for more pain meds, so you decide to ice them down instead. Sneaking past a sleeping Benny and you take the time to study his profile. Strong nose and jaw, salt and pepper in his beard, eyes that have a capability to be soft. He really is an attractive man, if you were being honest with yourself, which you try not to be. He looks so peaceful when he’s sleeping, so much different without the deep furrow between his eyebrows. You try to be as quiet as possible as you make a bag of ice, but it doesn’t take him long to follow you into the kitchen.

“In pain?” He asks, leaning up against the counter. His beefy arms cross his chest and you have to avert your eyes quickly.

“Yeah. The sharp pains are gone but the aching pains won’t budge.” He nods before glancing at the clock.

“It’s early,” you glance at the clock yourself and notice it’s only 6 am. Old habits die hard. “Want to get out of the apartment for a while? We can go grab breakfast?” He offers. “Does that coffee shop you like serve a full breakfast?”

“Actually it does. I’ve never eaten breakfast there before though.”

“Are you willing to try it?”

“Anything to get out for a bit. Just let me finish icing my ribs first. It should take about 30 minutes. Do you need to go home and shower?”

Benny shakes his head, “nah, I took one in the guest room while you were sleeping. Want to watch your show while we wait?” Obviously the answer is yes and you can’t stop watching mid-episode so it’s after 7 by the time you leave the house. Benny orders literally only a cup of coffee and you side eye him a you order blueberry pancakes, bacon, and hashbrowns with a French vanilla cappuccino.

“Aren’t you gonna eat?” He shakes his head at you.

“Nah, not much of a breakfast eater,” he says, taking a deep drink.

“Breakfast is the best meal of the day,” and it sends the two of you into an argument about which meal actually is the best meal. (Benny says they’re all the same, which leads you to believe he doesn’t eat much outside of work.)

This silly argument lasts nearly the entire time you wait for food and when it does arrive, you dig in. You’re so hungry that you almost don’t notice that Benny steals a piece of bacon off your plate. “Hey! Get your own food!” You cry, moving to stab him with your fork, but he manages to dodge. He laughs, a full belly laugh, and the sound is delicious. “You should’ve ordered something,” you warn, covering your food with your arms. “I don’t share food.”

He laughs again and flags down the waitress, ordering a side of bacon and some toast. You glare at him until it arrives, and the waitress chuckles as she fills his coffee. “I don’t share food with my boyfriend either,” and before you can argue that Benito Magalon is NOT your boyfriend, she’s gone.

————————-

Benny stays with you the next day and a half, until Monday and you’re allowed to return back to work. He offers to drive you but you refuse, telling him you go in much earlier than he does. “I can stay on your couch again. I’ll wake up when you wake up,” he says and you finally relent. So the next morning, at 6:30 you head into the kitchen, only to find Benny showered and holding coffee. “Hey. I grabbed coffee,” he lifts said coffee. “Want me to drive your car?”

It’s so bright in the office, much more bright than the low lights of your home, and it makes you wince.

“Clover!” Comes the cry from your office mates as they see you. You can’t help but smile and then it widens when you see what’s on your desk. A tiny pot with something green in it, which upon further inspection turns out to be…..clover.

“You guys have to be fucking kidding me,” you laugh, gently so not to upset your ribs. There’s a loud ruckus of laughter from them, as if it’s the funniest practical joke they’ve ever pulled. “You know this won’t live, right?” Examining it, you notice that it looks like they literally dug it up from the front lawn and stuck it in a pot. “It needs a lot more light than it’s gonna get sitting on my desk,” you explain before thanking them for doing something so thoughtful.

Big Nick steps out of his office to welcome you back, reaching over to slap a hand on your shoulder. You brace, waiting for the impact to jar your ribs but a sharp ‘don’t’ from Benny stops the hand before it connects. “Those ribs are still broke, Nick,” he says, barely lifting his eyes from his files to acknowledge Nick. Nick grunts, turns, tells you how good it is for you to be back, then disappears.

Lifting your eyes, you notice the same stunned expression on everyone else’s face and exchange of glances with one another. And glances with you.

That Monday is one of the longest of your career. you barely get anything done and all you want to do is go home and rest, but you can’t. It’s nearly midday when your patience snaps because Henderson looks at you funny when you grunt in pain.

“Got something to say, Henderson?” You snap and he gives you a wide, nervous glance before his eyes snap to Benny. “No. Don’t look at him, look at me. Do you have something to say?” Benny, you see him out of the corner of your eye, checks his watch and then pulls his phone out.

You’re so annoyed because you know they’re texting their little group chat. And you know they’re texting about you. Especially when four phones go off at the same time, more than once.

Borracho: it’s her first day off pain meds. Cut her some slack.

Nick: been there.

Henderson: same.

Z: does she need anything?

Borracho: food. And a coffee.

Z: what does she like?

Borracho: get her General Tso’s and house fried rice. And a caramel macchiato.

Z nods, getting up from his chair and heading out the door.

“Y’all texting about me?” You snap, eyes sharp as they bore holes in Benny’s head. He gives you this soft, pitying look that absolutely makes you rage and stand up suddenly before you double over in pain. Stupid fucking ribs. Stupid fucking perp that shot you. Stupid fucking pain meds. Wait-pain meds. Oh goddamnit. That’s why you’re so grouchy, you haven’t had any today and you’re sore and shaky.

“Are you alright?” Benny asks, standing. You wave him off, heading to the back of the bullpen where there aren’t any eyes and take a couple deep breaths. After four days of basically living together, you recognize the sound of Benny’s feet as they come up behind you. “Hurtin’?” He asks and you nod your head. “Want to head home?” You shake your head, but you really like the way he uses home like it’s somewhere the both of you are going.

“Nah, I just need a little bit of food and probably some coffee,” and you’re confused when Benny smiles.

“That’s where Z went. He’s grabbing Chinese and a caramel macchiato.” And you know that it was 100% Benny’s idea.

“Thanks Ben,” you smile at him, placing a soft hand on his forearm. There’s a moment there, in the back of the bullpen, between the two of you. You’ve been toeing that line all weekend, really for the last two months and this might be the turning point in your relationship. Benny feels safe. Benny feels like comfort. Someone you can trust. Someone you can count on.

Which is amazing to you because it’s such a far cry from where you started, nearly a year ago. Which makes you think, then makes you apologize.

“I’m sorry for how I acted when I first got here.”

“It’s fine. I think you had the right to be, these guys are a tough nut to crack,” he says, gesturing to the bullpen behind them. “They don’t take very well to others, especially fed. The ones we usually deal with are snarky and uptight. They make fun of us or judge us.” You understand, really you do. It makes sense, how defensive they are and how they treat new people. “Are you sure that you don’t want to head home? I can work from there,” he offers and it makes your chest tight. But his phone dings and it’s Z, letting him know that he’s back and that makes your chest tight again. These men care about you, your physical and mental well-being, and they want to make sure you’re okay. So, you shake your head at Benny and head back to your desk, lobbing an apology to everyone for your behavior, and sit down. Grabbing a file, you start to flip through it, but before you even have a chance to look at it, a bag and a coffee are set in front of you. You glance up and smile at Z, thanking him and apologizing to him in the same breath. He waves you off and sits down, but you can’t quite let it go.

“Z, what’s your cashapp. Or your Venmo? Let me pay for this, you didn’t have to go get it for me,” you tell him but he waves you off again.

“Nahh, Borracho already paid for it. Don’t worry about it,” and when you look at Benny, he refuses to look at you.

*************

Month 12

Month 12, you’re added into the group chat. Your phone buzzes one morning with one text from Big Nick and you notice that there’s a bunch of numbers there that you don’t recognize. Benny’s you do, but no one else. After about a week he stopped sleeping on your couch but he still gets to the office early and the two of you spend your mornings in companionable silence, sharing breakfast.

Big Nick: Anyone up for grabbing donuts this morning?

Big Nick: Also, drop your names so Clover knows who’s who.

Clover: Isn’t being a bunch of donut loving cops a little cliche?

Big Nick: Rude. No donuts for you.

You laugh a little out loud, noticing the ache in your ribs has almost completely disappeared, nearly two months after you got shot. You know Nick well enough now to know that he’s joking and he’s not being the rude, brash, asshole you initially thought that he was.

Zapata: It’s Z. Can’t this morning, gonna do a witness call.

Connors: This is Connors. I’m already at a crime scene, so I can’t. Save me some though!

Henderson: This is Henderson. I’m gonna be late as it is, I don’t have time.

Benny: Borracho can grab some from the usual place.

Clover: Don’t get any jelly filled ones, they’re the worst.

Zapata: Uh oh.

Clover: What?

Connors: NO JELLY FILLED? THAT’S UN-AMERICAN. I’M GOING BACK TO THE OTHER GROUP CHAT.

You laugh out loud again, the idea of Connors taking jelly-filled donuts so seriously honestly tracks for who he is as a person.

Clover: I’m sorry! Get all the jelly filled that you want, but get me long chocolate donut. No jelly, please.

Connors: Borracho, get a dozen jelly-filled just to spite Clover.

Clover: Awe, Connors. You’re hurting my feelings.

Big Nick: It’s too early to be reading this many messages.

Clover: You texted us first.

Benny: Chill or I won’t get donuts.

Henderson: You started the group chat.

Connors: You text first?!

Zapata: Speaking of, what should I name the chat?

Big Nick: Why does the group chat need a name?

Zapata: Our other chat is called The Regulators. We need to name this one too.

Connors: How about the FEDulators? It sounds the same!!

Clover: That’s the worst name I’ve ever heard, Connors.

Clover: How about Clover and the Four Leaf’s?

Zapata: OoOoOoOhHhHhH!!!!! I like that!!!!

Zapata changed the group name to 🍀Clover and the Four Leaf’s 🍀

Big Nick: Y’all are fuckin’ idiots.

You’re already in the office and lift your head at the sound of someone coming into the bullpen. It’s Benny, carrying two dozen donuts. He smiles at you and it makes something go slippery in your chest and Jesus you’re an adult.

“Welcome to the group chat. It’s hell here,” he laughs, holding out an open box for you to grab one. The two of you sit in silence, eating donuts and sharing files.