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casifer-is-king · 4 years ago

Text

Goldfish

PI!Frankie Pt. 2 (Private Investigator Frankie Morales Pt. 1)

Pairing: Frankie ‘Catfish’ Morales x fem!reader

Rating: M

Warnings: some language, sexual situations: dry humping and making out.

A/N: I can't get this these two out of my head so I just keep writing hah. It is cross posted on AO3 under my username BlondiMarie.

Frankie is bored out of his mind - watching some high up bank employee as he sits through some shady meeting - when his phone pings.

Pollito: Today's the day. At 3pm tonight I will officially be a divorced woman. And by 9pm I will hopefully already be drunk on celebratory drinks! Are you gonna come have a shot with me??

Sorry dulzura I have to work.

Pollito: Bank dude still? You must be slipping, Mr. Morales. You've been stalking that guy for weeks now.

Please don't call it stalking woman. It's surveillance. And I'll have you know I'm about to close this one.

Pollito: Oh I don't doubt you. You're the best investigator I know XD

Frankie shakes his head with a grin. The meeting he's been watching seems to be coming to a close, so he throws some money down for the coffee he'd ordered and walks out to his truck. He looks over the information he gathered from this most recent surveillance and knows that tonight is going to be the best night to follow up on it. He just wishes he could put it off. Spending the evening celebrating with you sounds like a much better time. Especially after everything you've gone through this past month with the divorce.

In the past few weeks, the texting between the two of you had been just as constant as ever, but you had added hanging out together to the mix as well. There had been one dinner so far, which you insisted on paying for, claiming you'd never pay him back if he paid. Then there had been a couple of times you went out for drinks, but Frankie did pay for those even through your complaints that you can pay for yourself.

It was all friendly, though. Not that Frankie didn't want to move on from friendly. He just didn't want to push that move too quickly. You were already stressed enough without him adding his own shit to the mix. So he goes on being the supportive friend, ignores his growing feelings and focuses on work.

And it's a plan that works well for him up until this night.

It's almost midnight when the next text from you comes through.

Pollito: where ar youuuuuu

I'm working Pollito.

Pollito: but yo should be here drikinh with me Fishyyyyyyyyy

Sometimes Frankie really wishes he hadn't told you about his Delta call sign, but he can't help but smile down at his phone as he waited for whatever you were typing now.

Pollito: I need a ride home :(

I thought you had it covered dulzura

Pollito: nuh hh. Come get me?

Frankie bites his lip and peeks up through his windshield. A man in a suit is walking up to the door Frankie has been watching for the past hour. One more glance at the slew of little sad faced begging emojis you had just sent and Frankie was out of his truck and closing the distance to his target with long strides.

Simultaneously hitting record on his phone and pressing a forearm into the target's chest, Frankie quickly takes control of the situation. “This is being recorded. Now I want you to tell me what you and your buddies are doing here tonight?” he asked in a tone that commands an answer.

“Get off me!” the man tried to push Frankie away, but ended up being pushed harder against the building behind him.

“You tell me what I want to know and you can go on your way. Now, what are you doing here tonight?”

“I will call the cops,” the guy made one last ditch attempt. His voice was weak, though, and didn't hold near the authority he had hoped for.

“That's not going to happen,” Frankie's growled out. He glared into the target's eyes for a moment, his teeth clenching. “What's going to happen is you're going to tell me exactly what you and your pals are doing in there. In as much detail as possible.”

“Ok! It's a skim operation!” The man finally gave in. He proceeded to give Frankie everything he needed without any additional prompting from the ex-special forces soldier.

When Frankie got everything he needed, he finally let up on the target, who immediately collapsed into himself. “See, that wasn't so hard,” Frankie said. “Thanks, man. I'm sure you'll be hearing from some people soon.”

Walking away, Frankie looks down to his phone. It's been 15 minutes since your last text.

I'm on my way bonita.

〰️〰️〰️

You know that you're well past drunk when you find yourself singing Total Eclipse of the Heart at a karaoke bar, surrounded by your best friends. Said friends are just as drunk as you are after too many rounds of sickly sweet shots.

You saw him as soon as he strode into the bar. He was wearing his usual baseball cap, but tonight he was wearing a black leather jacket over a tee shirt that stretched deliciously over his chest. You locked eyes with him from the stage, then followed his broad form as he made his way to the bar. With a beer in hand, he watches you sing with a warm look in his chocolate eyes.

As soon as the song is over, you're off the stage and by his side. With a huge smile you throw your arms over his shoulders and he stoops to wrap his arms around you in return.

“I'm so glad you came, Fishy!” You yell directly into Frankie's ear.

“You look like you're having enough fun without me, Pollito. And stop calling me that” Frankie retorts, pulling away with a faux glare.

“I'll stop calling you that when you stop calling me a chicken!”

Frankie laughs outright, showing off the adorable dimple in his cheek. “I promise it's just a nickname. It's not meant to be offensive.”

You glare up at the taller man, fingers still holding onto the plush leather of his coat. He only smiles down at you, though, with a fond look in his dark eyes. “Have a shot with me!” You finally demand. “We are celebrating the fact that I'm a free woman, remember?”

Frankie indulges you with a smile as you grasp one of his large hands in yours and turn him back toward the bar. He doesn't pull away, so you take that as a good sign and lightly run your thumb down the prominent vein running down the back of said hand.

Ever since the night Frankie came and kicked your ex out for good, he had been tip-toeing around you. You were more than certain that the man felt the same about you as you did him, but he hadn't made any move to go any farther than the dinner date you took him on. But every time he'd peek the tip of his tongue out when he concentrated on something you wanted to kiss him. And whenever he'd wrap his arms around you and pull you into a friendly hug, you wanted to push him against the nearest surface and leave marks across his neck. Not to mention all the little things, like watching him drive and yearning to grab his hand in yours. Or even just sitting next to him on the couch and wishing he'd pull you closer so you could just bask in his warm existence.

But, ever the gentleman, Frankie does none of those things. He texts you all day, spends time with you when he's not busy, and lets you vent to him endlessly about your divorce. And so maybe that's where the issue lies: you were technically still a married woman and Frankie is just the kind of gentleman who wouldn't make a move on a married woman? Regardless of how separated she was from her husband.

Marriage isn't an issue anymore, though, you think happily as you and Frankie down your shots of Jameson and it's subsequent pickleback in two smooth steps. Because this was your celebration as a newly single woman! You just had to make sure Frankie was aware of this as well.

Your little Frankie bubble was invaded as your friends squish up to the bar beside you. “Oh, look who made it right as we are leaving!”

“Hello, Erin. I see you two have been taking care of her,” Frankie nods toward you with a mildly facetious smile.

“Only the best divorce party for our best friend!” Ashley cheers, sloppily throwing her arms around your neck. “But our Uber is here, so it's time to pack it up.”

You can almost feel Frankie's eyes squinting at you as you turn to your friends. Oops. So maybe you had exaggerated just a little bit to convince Frankie to show up tonight. But it was worth it now that he was here. “Actually, Frankie's gonna take me home.”

Erin and Ashley exchange looks and you know, even in your drunken daze, that is time to usher them out to their waiting ride. “Come on, loves, your car won't wait forever.”

After long winded goodbyes, multiple hugs and some empty promises from Ashley that you would all get lunch the next day, you finally packed your friends into their Uber.

“Ready to go, too, cariño?” Frankie asked, looking down into your eyes.

Your head tilted to the side. This was a pet name he had not called you before. You are about to ask about it, but suddenly his large hand is covering the span of your lower back and warmth is radiating from that spot straight into your belly. With a dreamy nod, you allow Frankie to lead you across the lot to his truck. He gently lifts you into the passenger seat and his full torso covers you momentarily as he leans across to buckle you in securely.

You're struck, in this moment, by the realization of how broad this man's shoulders are. Of course, it's not something that you can miss; but in this moment, warmed by his body covering yours, he seems broader than ever. Shoulders leading to strong arms, ending with those hands. It was obvious that Frankie was accustomed to working with his hands, with long, thick fingers calloused from engine work and handling guns. But it's the little things about Frankie's hands that always captured your attention. The way they twitched when he was feeling anxious, always looking for the first thing he could to occupy them. He'd caress the table beneath his fingers, following every groove over and over again. Or when he tapped along to the music on the radio as he drove and his fingers would flex, showing off all of his tendons.

You're brought out of your thoughts when one of those fingers reaches up to brush a piece of hair behind your ear. He's still close. Close enough that it wouldn't take much effort to just lean forward and place your lips on his.

But in the next instant he's retreating, shooting you a wink as he closes the door and jogs over to the drivers side.

“Did you get the guy?” You asked once Frankie had pulled away from the bar. “The one you've been watching.”

“Of course I did,” he drawls. “I'm the best, remember?”

“I am certain that's not what I said,” you laughed.

“That's what I remember you saying.”

You laugh at him, enjoying how his deep laugh harmonizes with yours, enjoying the moment with him. You wish you could drag this moment on, you think blearily. But soon enough he's parked outside your new condo and gently helping you up to your front door.

“Stay,” you whisper as Frankie fights to get your door unlocked while also dealing with you draped all over him. He grunts, just a general signal that he heard you speak, but he doesn't answer your request.

He's depositing you onto your couch when you say it again, more forceful, “Frankie. Stay with me.” You're grasping at the sleeve of his coat, both hands attempting to pull him down with you.

Frankie freezes, suddenly a statue in the middle of your living room. Seeing that you aren't going to be able to make the man budge by pulling him down, you relent your grip and move on to pouting up at him.

“Not a good idea, cariño. Not tonight and not like this.” He sounds just a little bit regretful. So you latch onto that and double down on the pouting.

“I want you to Frankie. Want you to stay here and kiss me and touch me with your pretty hands.”

Frankie groans in a way that makes you feel like you've won, but instead he takes a full step back and pulls off his hat to run his hands through his hair. The curls are messy, but they look so soft and you want to touch them desperately.

The next thing you know, you're standing in front of him and Frankie's hands are curled gently around your wrists as he's pushing you back at arm's length. “Dulzura, it is time for you to go to bed.”

You frown and whine, “don't wanna go to bed.”

“Goodnight, cariño,” was the last thing you heard before you drifted off to sleep under your warm blankets.

Frankie 🐟: The guys are doing an early bbq then the fight is tonight.

You pick up your phone to read the text as it pings a second time.

Frankie 🐟: You're still coming right??

Of course! What time should I be ready?

Frankie 🐟: I'll be there around 3.

Sounds good. See you then!

Frankie is there at 2:47pm. It's the first time you've seen him since the day of your divorce just a week ago. You aren't exactly ready, but he only stands around impatiently for 10 minutes before you are finally out the door. The drive is across town, and 20 minutes later Frankie is pulling up to a nice little house in an equally nice neighborhood.

Frankie walks into the house without knocking, leading you through to the back door. In the back yard a group of guys are standing around a grill, two of them with beers in their hands and one with a water bottle.

“Hey! Look who finally made it!” One of the guys calls out as he sees you and Frankie approaching. A wide smile graces his handsome features.

“Hey guys,” Frankie greets, “Sorry we're late. Someone wasn't ready when they said they'd be.” Frankie ignores your huff in liew of introducing you to his friends.

You shake each man's hand, trying to match faces to names you already know: Santiago with his dark eyes, stubbled jaw and curly hair; Benny is the one with the wide smile and crystal blue eyes; and Will who's eyes match Benny's, but who has blonde hair and a beard that enhances his chiseled jawline perfectly.

“I've heard so much about you all.” It's a cliché line, but it's the truth. Frankie talks about these guys more often than he talks about himself.

“Want a beer, dulzura?” Frankie asks. When you nod he turns back to the house.

“So we finally get to meet Frankie's new best friend,” Santiago turns to you with a smile. “You and Catfish have known each other…. How long now?”

“One month, two weeks and four days,” Will pipes up from your left.

Before you can even comment on the absurdity of him just knowing that, Santiago is already going on. “Exactly! And we are only just now meeting you?! It seems a shame that Cat would keep such a niña bonita from us!”

“You know how possessive Fish can be, Pope,” Benny cuts in. “I'm surprised he didn't wait another one month, two weeks and however many days.”

The guys laugh and you join in, though yours is definitely more confused than anything. “I don't think that's it,” you reply. “Just timing hasn't matched up, ya know? But I'm glad things worked out tonight. I'm excited to see your fight, Benny. Frankie talks a lot about y'alls training.”

Frankie appears by your side again, handing you your beer bottle and casually draping an arm over your shoulders. “Ben's gonna do great tonight. He's put in a lot of work for this one and he's gonna leave that ring the champ.”

“I always leave the ring a champion,” Benny puffs up.

“Except when you get the shit kicked out of you,” Santiago says, feinting a jab to Benny's torso which leads to Benny grabbing Santiago in a headlock.

Will gives an exasperated eye roll and he and Frankie begin to drift over to the smoking grill in tandem, you being pulled along with them from under Frankie's arm. “You really thinking he's got this one?” Will asks as he opens the grill to check on the food inside.

“No doubt. He really has put the work in, and we've been working on taking advantage of Thompson’s weaknesses. Benny's the better fighter between the two anyway, so this one is a no brainer,” Frankie replies with confidence.

Will seems convinced by this and nods. “Good. He needs this win.”

They leave it at that as Benny and Santiago make their way over, still pushing at each other and laughing.

“Ok, save it for the ring, brother,” Will says to Benny. “Foods done, let's eat.”

〰️〰️〰️

Frankie downs the rest of his beer and peeks over at your own bottle. Seeing that it's nearly empty as well, he leans in and interrupts your conversation with Will by whispering in your ear, “another drink?”

You turn to him with a sweet little smile and a nod before turning right back to listening to whatever Will was telling you.

Standing and walking into the kitchen, Frankie can't help but feel happy seeing how well you're dealing with his best friends. Brothers, really, after everything the four of them had been through. Which is just another reason for Frankie to smile, knowing that the guys are going out of their way to make you feel comfortable.

Opening the fridge and grabbing two more bottles, Frankie hears the soft padding of footsteps and raises his chin to see that Benny has followed him. He steps back and let's the younger man grab a water bottle and a beer.

“So, you tappin’ that yet?” Benny asks with a salacious wiggle of his brows.

Frankie rolls his eyes at his friend's crudeness. "Come on, man, she just got divorced."

"Ok, but if that wasn't an issue?" Benny pushes.

"I don't know. Maybe. I don't know if she'd even want that."

“But you are into her?"

"Of course I am, Benny!"

"Well, don't wait too long, brother. Don't let her slip through your fingers."

〰️〰️〰️

In the living room you are left with Santiago and Will. Santiago takes the opportunity of having Frankie out of the room and turns to you. “So, has Fish been treating you well?”

You're confused by the question, but answer, “of course. He's a really good friend.” You smile as you lower your head.

“But I'm sensing you're maybe interested in more than that?” Santiago pushes.

“Um, well, I'm just kinda going with the flow. He's just kinda been there for me through a whole shit storm,” you explain.

“Well one of you is gonna have to make a move at some point.”

Before you can deny anything, Will comes to your defense. “Come on, Pope. This isn't an interrogation here.” You smile at the man appreciatively, but then he ads: “anyway, we both know Frankie is gonna take his time making any moves."

The conversation is cut short when Benny saunters back into the room, presenting you with another beer in a flourish.

“Do you do any fishing?” Santiago changes the topic swiftly.

“Not at all,” you laugh.

“Don't like fish?”

"More like fish don't like me. I had a goldfish once, but it died pretty much as soon as I got it home."

“How do you murder a goldfish?” Benny asks, looking your way incredulously.

“I don't know! I did everything the guy at the store told me to do.”

“Well, lucky for you, it's ok if the ones you catch die, goldfish killer,” Benny jokes. “The goal is to eat them anyway.”

“I don't know. I have zero experience with fishing,” you protest.

“Don't you worry, we will teach you everything there is to know,” Benny says with a wink. “I hear catfish are pretty easy to catch.”

Santiago snickers and you see Will try to hide a smirk.

“Is that what you guys usually fish for?” You ask, trying to gain some context for the comment and following reaction.

“No, darlin’, it's not,” Will answers, his smirk evolving into a smile. “But we will be happy to have you come with us whenever you want to tag along.”

“Where are you guys trying to take her, hermano?” Frankie asks as he re-enters the living room. You notice that his lips are turned down slightly and his brows are pinched, creating that worry line between them that he sometimes gets when he's thinking too hard about a case.

“Just offering to teach the goldfish killer how to do some real fishing.” Benny's smile is wide and definitely leaning away from innocent.

“It was literally just one goldfish,” you mumble.”It's not like I'm some mass goldfish murder.”

Frankie pats your shoulder as he takes his seat beside you, “of course not, cariño. I know you'd never purposely hurt a fish.” His tone was only mildly sarcastic, so you let him off with a glare.

“Well you might have to break that rule once we get out to the lake with a hook in the water, but I think you'll manage just fine,” Benny laughs. “Here, put your number in my phone!”

Benny's phone is slapped into your palm, so you have no choice but to comply with his request. He also grabs for your phone and unlocks it to immediately start adding his contact info in return. Only seconds after you have swapped phones back, your own phone alerts you to a message. Opening the screen you note that you have now been added to a group message labeled “Operation Teach Goldfish To Reel In A Big Catch”. You see Frankie listed in the chat, as well as two other phone numbers that are not saved in your contacts.

“Kinda long for a chat name, don't ya think?” You comment, raising one brow toward the younger Miller brother.

“It's a working title,” Benny laughs out loud. “Now let's get going, guys. I have a fight to win!”

There were only a few people there when you got to the venue where the fights were being held. You go back and watch Benny warm up, surprised that the goofy guy from back at the barbecue has now turned deathly serious. He's definitely in his element here. Frankie and Will offer some pointers and words of encouragement until it's time for him to go change.

“I'm gonna go get our seats,” Frankie says as you all file out towards the changing room.

“You're not gonna walk out with me?” Benny sounds suddenly anxious.

“I don't wanna leave her alone, hermano,” Frankie explains, gesturing toward you.

Benny's brows pinch together and his frown deepens.

“I can go save the seats myself,” you assure with a smile at both men.

“Are you sure, cariño?” Frankie looks mildly worried, but he's also glancing back to Benny, clearly at a loss for what to do.

“Of course! You guys do your manly ritual stuff and I'll be out there when you get done.” Turning toward Benny you give him a bright smile, “good luck out there!”

The smile Benny gives in return is full of relief and appreciation. “Thanks, Goldfish.”

“That's… You didn't forget my name already, did you?” You ask hesitantly.

Benny laughs outright at that. “Of course not, sweetheart. But Goldfish Killer is too long to say every time.”

With a huff and an eye roll you try to hide the smile that's creeping into your face. “Ok, asshole. You go focus on not getting knocked out in the ring.”

“Not a chance of that happening,” he retorts with a wink before turning to go into the changing room.

Frankie turns to you once more. “You sure you'll be ok out there?” He asks once more.

“I'm positive, Morales. You go make sure Benny is ready to win this thing.”

Frankie smiles down at you with a soft look in his eyes. “Kay. I'll see you out there soon.”

People are starting to trickle in as you enter the arena and scope out for the seats Frankie had mentioned earlier where they usually sat. They are in the front row and still open, so you make sure to stake your claim on four seats and sit down to wait.

You're scrolling through social media when a shadow falls over you. You look up and see a man standing next to you, waiting to catch your attention. “Hey, are these seats taken?” He asks.

“No, those ones are free. I just have these ones on my left,” you smile politely.

“Thanks,” the guy smiles back before taking the seat next to you. You focus back on your scrolling for a moment before the guy speaks again. “Should be a good fight tonight, huh?”

Looking back up, you see the stranger is still addressing you. “Yeah, I'm sure it will be,” you respond.

“Who are you betting on?” He asks.

“Ben Miller,” you answer without a thought.

“Really? Ok,” the guy laughs.”I'm Nick, by the way.”

You give him your name in return and, with mild reluctance, allow him to engage you in a conversation.

It's 20 minutes before the lights dim and loud music starts pouring out of the speakers. You turn to focus on what's happening, but Nick leans closer to say something else. In that moment, you feel Frankie settle into the chair to your left, his arm automatically falling across your shoulders and he's pulling you toward him.

“Hey, sweetheart. Sorry that took so long.” Frankie's voice is deep, but usually it's a soft gravely sound that drapes over you like a warm, wool blanket. In this moment, though, his voice has turned stentorian. It's so clear, even over all the background noise, that you are sure Nick has heard every word without issue.

To prove that point, the stranger immediately backs off.

You smile up at Frankie thankfully as Santiago and Will make their way over, passing beers to you and Frankie. He takes his beer in his left hand and keeps his right arm firmly around your shoulders. Accepting that he wasn't going to move any time soon, you subtly lean toward him and focus on the fight that's starting in the ring.

As the second fight begins and the announcer introduces Benny, the solid arm moves from your shoulders and Frankie's hand drops to your thigh. The weight of that hand causes your stomach to flutter as he gives one squeeze of his strong fingers.

You glance over to the owner of the warm hand and see that he is leaning over Santiago, listening to something Will is saying.

You take the opportunity and bring your hand up as well. You allow yourself to touch the denim of his jeans, feeling along the solid span of his thigh, moving inward until the tips of your fingers are touching the inner seam of them.

His hand squeezes your thigh again, this time just a hint harder. Not a warning to stop; probably not even something he meant to do, you realize after peeking up at his face through your lashes. Frankie is straight faced, appearing to be watching as Benny gains the upper hand early on his opponent. But his eyes flicker down to your quickly every few seconds, and each time you catch him you move your hand just a little farther up his leg.

〰️〰️〰️

Frankie's arm is around you again, but this time he has you pulled firmly into his side as he leads you down the hallway. The announcer had barely finished announcing Benny as the winner before he had grabbed your hand and pulled you out of the arena. With one sharp turn he leads you through one of the doors along the hall and has you backed against it in one swift motion.

“I've been waiting to kiss you for so long,” he growls into your neck.

“So why haven't you already?” You counter. And that's all it takes for Frankie's lips to come crashing down on yours.

It's a rough meeting of mouths, both of you having lost all patients after weeks of waiting for this. His mustache tickles you and you giggle a bit at the sensation of his facial hair as well as the euphoria of finally kissing this man after dreaming about it for so long. He takes this opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth and you eagerly accept.

The kiss has melted into a deep exploration of each other's mouths while his hands find their way up your sides. Those hands cover your ribcage, up just below the swell of your breasts; he caresses the very bottom of them with just his thumbs before both hands continue toward your back. He traces fingertips down each vertebrae of your spine until he reaches your ass and firmly takes a handful of each cheek.

This action causes you to be pulled closer to his body and it's that moment that you realize he has slotted his leg between your thighs. The friction causes you to gasp and your head falls back against the door. Frankie takes this opportunity to begin exploring your exposed neck, mapping out all the places that make you moan and squirm on his thigh.

You move your hands up to push your fingers through his curly hair, knocking his hat off in the process. As his mouth meets the juncture of your neck and shoulder, electricity flashes up your spine and you grip a handful of his hair in one of your fists. The pull on his scalp rips a moan from deep in his chest and he jerks his hips into yours. With this added closeness, you can clearly feel his excitement pressing into your hip.

You drag a hand slowly down Frankie's body, feeling all the firm muscle of his shoulder and pecs, traveling further down his stomach until you reach the edge of his tee shirt. His mouth has migrated toward the other side of your neck as you push your hand up under the bottom of his shirt, fingers dancing across skin covered in a speckling of hair, following the trail down to his belt and…

Suddenly both of your phones are vibrating at the same time. You squeak loudly as you feel his phone through the pocket of the leg he has firmly pressed into your center.

“Fucking shit,” Frankie curses, stepping away from you and reaching into his jeans for the phone. “Fucking assholes,” he curses again, turning the phone to show you that Santiago is calling him.

You fall back onto the door and retrieve your own phone with shaking hands. It's Benny calling you, which you allow Frankie to see with a shake of your head and sardonic smile. He huffs out a deep breath and ignores the call.

“Guess we better find them,” Frankie sighs, running a hand over his kiss-swollen lips.

“Yeah, we should do that,” you agree, running your hands through your hair in an attempt to tame it. Once you both have composed yourselves to the best of your abilities, you allow Frankie to open the door and lead you out with a hand low on your back.

Immediately you hear Benny's voice hollering from down the hall, “Well well well, there they are.”

You feel your whole body cringe before turning toward the rowdy voice, knowing full well your face is flaming red from both embarrassment and where Frankie's stubble had rubbed your skin sensitive.

“And where have you been?” Benny questions as the three men approach.

“Around,” Frankie answers, barely nonchalant.

Benny laughs loudly, but Will expertly leads him continuously down the hall. Though not without throwing you and Frankie a knowing smile.

“Did you lose your hat while you were “around” exploring random storage rooms?” Santiago inquires with a leer as he also sweeps past the two of you, following the Miller brothers.

Frankie's hand shoots to his head and he runs his fingers through uncontained hair. He curses under his breath then turns to hastily swoop his hat from the floor and place it back on his head.

When he stands back to his full height, he pauses a moment to gaze at you. The corners of his eyes crinkle into a smile as your eyes meet his and in an instant he's leaning down to deliver a soft, quick kiss to your lips. “We better catch up or we'll never hear the end of it,” he comments.

The three men are standing around outside the doors when Frankie finally escorts you out. Benny wastes no time pulling you into their conversation. “Bar? I need a drink after that win!”

You turn to look up at the man beside you, your eyes meeting is chocolate ones instantly. The two of you have a moment of silent communication before Frankie turns to his friends. “I think we'll skip the bar tonight, hermano. You guys have fun though.”

“Oh, you hear that, gentlemen? Frankie and Goldie are gonna skip the bar,” Santiago says satirically.

“Oh, we heard, brother,” Will affirms in a matching, though more subdued tone.

“Yeah yeah, ok,” Frankie interrupts the banter. “Come on, cariño, let's go before these comedians get too deep in their skit.”

The guys laugh and start their rounds of manly goodbyes.

You turn to Benny when he's stepped back from Frankie's hug. “Great job tonight. Congrats on that win,” you smile up at him.

The beaming man instantly pounced to sweep you into a hug. “Glad we finally got to meet you, Goldfish.”

“You're not gonna give that up, are you?” You glare good-naturedly.

“I've already changed your name in my phone. Can't go back now.”

You sigh half heartedly and return Benny's hug. “It was nice to finally meet you too,” you pull away with a sincere smile.

Back on the ground you get a side hug from Santiago and Will offers a friendly nod and a smile. Then, with one last wave, Frankie grabs your hand and leads you to his truck. After each of you are buckled in, he turns to you with hesitant eyes.

“So….” he doesn't hold eye contact for long, quickly tipping his head forward to hide behind the bill of his hat.

You smile at how cute he is, here in this moment. A distinct difference from the man who had you crowded against a door and rubbing yourself all over his thigh not even 15 minutes ago.

“So, I have this new condo full of brand new furniture, if you wanna check it out,” you suggest.

“Sounds perfect to me,” Frankie agrees, reaching over to grab your hand as he sets off toward your house.

✨✨Three✨✨

#triple frontier #pi!frankie #frankie morales #frankie catfish morales #francisco morales #francisco catfish morales #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #francisco morales x reader #francisco morales x you

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moonbeam-writing · 4 years ago

Note

Hi!! Can I request you a Kuroo scenario where he falls in love with the reader one day after seing one of her match for the first time during a tournament ? After running into her a few times, he ends up taking the courage to talk to her (or confessing ? 👀)

— Love at First Sight

๑ Requested by a lovely Anon!

๑ Quick Note: Of course! This is so cute! Thank you for requesting, lovely! <3

๑ Characters: Kuroo Tetsurou (Haikyuu!!)

๑ Warnings: None!

๑ Word Count: 1,500

—

The first time Kuroo Tetsurou saw you, you took his breath away. He had little to no clue who you were or which school you went to, but what he did know is that he wanted to get to know you more. At that moment, though, he had a game to focus on, but his heart was set on seeing you afterward somehow.

However, despite having the game to focus on, he still found his eyes finding their way to you before each set, had managed to pick up the sound of your cheering amongst the crowd, or at least what he thought was your cheering. That part was purely wishful thinking on his end, but Kuroo knew he’d love the sound of your voice regardless of whether or not that was you. At one point during the match, Kuroo had even managed to catch your eye.

He found himself convinced that love, at first sight, was a possibility. He knew that it wasn’t love, at least not yet, but he certainly knew that it was infatuation. He felt this strange pull towards you like he needed to meet you no matter what. Kuroo thought about looking around his wrist or pinkie multiple times throughout the small breaks he had, wondering if the Red String myth about soulmates was true, but didn’t. He didn’t need to seem like he was crazy in front of you or anyone else, realizing that if that were the case, he would have seen the string by now. That one moment of eye contact changed everything.

After the tournament ended, Kuroo nearly missed you. He had managed to just barely catch you on your way out, politely tapping on your shoulder and introducing himself. Your hand felt so small in his as you shook it and your smile practically made his heart stop. The slightly noticeable tint on your cheeks was adorable and Kuroo couldn't help but feel like you felt the same. Of course, you did feel the same. There was something about his wild hair and the obvious passion with the game. The captain that you only just learned the name of had somehow managed to draw you in. Unfortunately for the two of you, you both lived a good five hours away from each other. For the time being, the two of you settled with exchanging names and numbers, hoping to gain the courage to possibly text the other first.

Though it was a few months before the two of you saw each other again, but when you did, it was exciting. It was completely random and purely by chance.

Kuroo had been in town for a game and the two of you had coincidentally gone into the same coffee shop, Kuroo, however, was convinced it was by fate. Any time Kuroo had seen you, despite it only being twice, it was by pure chance and he wasn’t about to question it too much. He got to see you and he wasn’t about to question it. It was bad enough that the two of you were barely able to talk and your texts were hours apart sometimes, so he was absolutely taking advantage of what the world was so graciously giving him.

The entire time you were with him, you felt light. There wasn’t any form of tension in the air, no odd weight on your shoulders. To your knowledge, Kuroo felt the same, or at least, he certainly looked like he did. You were so happy to finally see him again, and it couldn’t have come at a better time. Your week had been long and you had been meaning to ask if he’d want to meet up for the last month and now here he was, right in front of you, talking to you. It almost made you feel like a little girl with her first crush, and you weren’t too far off. In such a short amount of time, you were absolutely head over heels for him.

Unfortunately, the time came for the two of you to say goodbye to each other. You saw him off before he left, bringing coffee and a breakfast pastry to him for the trip back. Neither of you wanted him to leave, but he had to.

From then on, the universe seemed to try making it easier for you two to talk, text, and occasionally see each other. In the span of another four months, you were able to see him another two times and now he was asking if you’d come to Tokyo for an upcoming tournament.

The butterflies in your stomach were intense. They almost always were when you were able to go see him, or he was coming to you, but this time was different. You weren’t sure how or why, but it was definitely different. Regardless, you couldn’t help your obvious excitement.

Everything felt similarly to the last tournament, the one that you met him at, though the biggest difference is that this time, not only were you not going just to go, but you were able to wish your favorite captain good luck before the start. You noticed that this time, Kuroo seemed a bit more hyped up than last time, and you couldn't help but wonder if you were the cause.

Much like the first time Kuroo had seen you, between almost every set, Kuroo’s eyes would look to you in the crowd and every time he found you, your eyes met. It wasn’t much of a shock, though; your eyes hadn’t left him nearly the entire game, aside from a few close calls in the game. From up in the stands, you couldn’t help but admire him out on the court; all of Kuroo’s strength and determination, and the obvious love he had for both the game and his teammates was incredible to see, part of you was wishing that the current game would never end just so you could keep watching him do what he loved. Of course, with that thought, you also had to admit to yourself that you were stalling a little. You were anxious to find out why today felt so different compared to any other day that you saw him, but luckily for you, it seemed like the game was wrapping itself up once and for all.

Once the match was officially done, you were one of the first people to leave the stands, excited to, hopefully, be one of the first people to congratulate the team, especially Kuroo, on their win.

As soon as you had gotten towards the front doors, the boys were on their way there themselves, all of them exhausted, but clearly amped up from their win. Upon seeing you at the door, Kuroo’s victorious smirk turned itself into a wide grin, seeing his favorite girl right in front of him.

“Tetsurou!” Your voice sounding off against the surrounding noise made his smile bigger as you began to move, meeting him halfway and stepping comfortably into his open and waiting arms. “I’m so proud of you!” You paused for a moment, stepping on your toes slightly to look over his shoulder better. “You guys too! You were all so incredible!” Their thanks was heard, but you were already back to being shoved up against Nekoma’s captain for it to register in your head.

“Thanks, (Y/N)!” Kuroo smiled down at you, though you could tell that there was a hint of nervousness in his eyes, which was odd and out of place for a number of reasons. “How long are you going to be here?”

“A few days, nothing too major. Even though they’ve met you, my parents aren’t really all that big on me staying a full week here, ha ha. It’s honestly a miracle they’re letting me be here for a few days on my own.” The two of you shared a small laugh over it, because you were absolutely lucky, but so was he. Kuroo knew he needed to make his move. “Any reason why?”

“Yeah, actually. Um, I know I haven’t known you too long, a bit under a year, really,” you couldn’t help smiling slightly at the rare sight of a nervous Kuroo. It was something you’d probably not see again for awhile. “And it might be a bit difficult because of the distance and all, but I was wondering if you’d possibly want to go on a date with me, and if you had fun, would you want to be my girlfriend?”

The grin that had made a place for itself on your lips was practically infectious as you tightened your grip on him. “Of course! Hell, you don’t even have to wait for the end of the first date, I’d gladly be your girlfriend, Tetsurou.”

Hugging you back once again, Kuroo pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. Though the captain was a man of science, he couldn’t help but think that maybe love at first sight was actually real.

#haikyuu request #haikyuu scenario #haikyuu drabbles #kuroo #kuroo x reader #kuroo tetsurou #kuroo tetsurou x reader #fluff!

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literaila · 4 years ago

Text

how could this ever be different?

spencer x reader

warnings: criminal minds stuff. its not all accurate, i am not a genius. thats it? suprising

summary: spencer goes undercover in Las Vegas to catch an unsub. he might just catch feelings along the way... part one:

Blunt force trauma.

Multiple lacerations.

Young women.

Different dump sites.

The unsub had been killing women all over Las Vegas, with no specific victimology, just a bunch of different women who were in the right place at the wrong time.

There was nothing distinctive about the unsub, nothing that made him stick out to the team.

After a week in Vegas, a dreadful week filled with nothing but more questions and the sun.

They were not getting anywhere.

On the 6th day, after 10 bodies had been found total, and the unsub had stopped killing for two days, Hotch decided they couldn't be of any help, and that the case would be declared “cold” until more evidence came out.

All of them were disappointed, angry that all of those women had died, and they couldn't do anything to avenge them. They all wanted to prevent anyone else from losing their life at the unsubs hands, but without more information, they couldn't do anything.

They all left Nevada with sour expressions and hopeless mindsets.

Four months later, more women had died.

It had slowed down significantly when they had left, but one month after that, the unsub had picked up his pace, 2 women dead in the span of a week. More weeks went by, with no other signs he was still killing, and then suddenly he was killing once a week, then twice, and then during the fourth month, it had picked up so much he was killing an average of five women each day. Sometimes, multiple women a day.

And while this provided more evidence, helped the team dig deeper into his mindset, it still wasn't enough.

They were still sitting around the round table, still thinking.

There wasn't enough.

“Hotch, we aren't getting anywhere, we don't know enough about this guy.”

Derek sighed and sat back in his chair.

“I think we know some-” Prentiss argued, her frown plastered on her face.

“But not enough.” Derek interrupted, his eyes were tired, and he wanted to move on to a case where they could actually save people, not a case where none of them knew what they were doing. He felt like he was holding this case on his shoulders, and until they were through with it, the weight wouldn't go away.

There wasn't enough coffee to cure the exhaustion running around the room.

“Do we move on again?” Hotch asked, not exactly sure what to do, they’d never had a situation quite like this one.

They could keep working, keep searching for answers that weren't there, or they could move on, they could work on something, on someone, where they actually knew the answers. They could go home and start over again tomorrow.

Or they could stay, exhausted, unmotivated, and keep working.

It was clear what they all wanted to do. It was clear that the easiest answer wouldn't be the right one.

“If only we could find some sort of pattern.” Rossi looked through his file again, looked at all the girls' history, read over the things he had already read hundreds of times. There had to be some sort of answer somewhere.

The rest of the team copied him, all of them reading everything over and over, desperate to find something, anything.

“Hotch we’ve been over this hundreds of times.” Derek sighed and rubbed his eyes. He was the most exhausted out of all of them, angry that they couldn't stop this guy from killing more women, angry that they couldn't save the other girl's lives.

“I know, Morgan, but I don't think giving up is the right idea-”

“Wait.”

Everyone looked over to the genius interrupting, his brows were furrowed and his mouth was turned down, but they all recognized the look on his face, they could all see that he was thinking of something.

If anyone had figured out anything, it would be Spencer.

“It looks like it's some sort of schedule…”

The tall man got up to walk to the whiteboard in the front of the room, he frowned as he wrote down different numbers.

The rest of the team watched confused as he scrawled messy numbers, again and again, they were all trying to make sense of it, make sense of anything, but they aren't geniuses, and they didn't understand.

“Reid do you mind explaining-”

Spencer cut Derek up with a finger signaling he needed a minute. It caused a moment of laughter between the team as Derek looked startled.

When Spencer looked back over at the other people in the room, capping the marker he was holding in his head, he smiled as if he was laughing at himself. As if he should’ve realized sooner.

“It's a schedule- I mean, look-” he pointed at the numbers, laughing as he said it out loud for the first time, the rest of the team just stared at him, waiting for a bigger explanation. “He only kills between the hours of 6 AM and 6 PM- I mean look-” he pointed up at one of the girls “Megan Cooley was killed at 7:28 PM, Hannah Zen was killed at 5 in the morning, and all of the other girls correlate with this schedule.”

They all stared at the board, the dots connecting, everything suddenly coming to light. It was so strange that just a small realization could change everything for them.

“Garcia,” Spencer said, suddenly put into action. Penelope looked immediately at him, her eyes alert. “Can you find a list of Employees that work 6-6 hours in Las Vegas? It's probably as a manager, a position that doesn't allow sick days.”

Insistent typing went on as they all stared Garcia down. There was a pinch of hope in the room, just the slightest realization that maybe they could finally start to do something.

“There are… 48 total employees who worked on those days, who haven't taken any sick days,” Garcia said as she continued typing.

“Okay, how about employees that started working overtime a month after the case was opened?”

A second went by, two.

“There are 12 results,” she said, looking back up at Spencer, suddenly excited.

Spencer thought for a moment, wondered what would stick out about their unsub. “How about someone who doesn't work under their degree? Like a manager of a store, or something like that?”

Another moment, every person in the room, waiting with anticipation, waiting for something, an answer, anything.

“There's only one result.”

‘Who?”

“A Y/N Y/L/N. She works as a manager at a book shop, never takes any sick days, and has a 6-6 schedule every day.”

It was silent for a moment. None of them knew what to say.

“Maybe that's what we were missing,” JJ spoke up, “it's out of character for a woman, but I don't doubt that it's possible.”

They all nodded in agreement, not wanting to start over again.

At least this was a place to start.

“Are we just going to arrest her?”

After the discovery they had all decided to take a break, to take an hour for just themselves, to get lunch.

Now it was back to the case.

“We can't arrest her without any probable cause. As of now, we don't know enough about her to get a warrant.”

A sigh ran across the room, filling all of the heads with hopelessness again.

Until Emily spoke up, remembering something they’d done before, an idea popping into her brain.

“What if we sent in an undercover agent?”

She had asked Hotch, but everyone was debating it, thinking of the possibilities, the risks that could come with being that close to a murder, the past experiences.

It could be a very bad idea, something could potentially happen to an agent, more victims could get killed, the unsub could stop killing at all.

But, it was one of the only options they had, besides waiting for more evidence to show up.

“We sent someone in, and they get to know the unsub, they profile her behavior, gage her way of living, look for similarities. And undercover, they could get a lot more information than any of us could get by arresting her.” Emily went on, her mind running over the positives.

Hotch sighed. He knew it wasn't something they often did, the BAU was used to getting through cases, used to arresting people immediately. But this was a special case, and he knew that it would only get worse and worse as long as they waited.

But he wasn't sure.

“We don't know what she's like, what if she suspects something? She could kill an agent.” He said, doubtful, stern.

“So we send in a male agent, she isn't interested in males, she's less likely to kill them.”

“We still don't know if she will even connect with a stranger, we don't know if she can connect with anyone. It won't be helpful if the agent can't get to know her.”

“But, Hotch, we could still learn her schedule, we could learn about where she goes when she's not working.

With each sentence that Emily said, they were all becoming more convinced.

A nod went around the table, and they all looked to Hotch for confirmation.

He sighed and rubbed his eyes, exhausted with the day, with the case, and nodded.

Relief went around, all of them glad to finally have a plan.

“So who do we send?” Rossi asked.

There were dozens of agents they could send, plenty of them trained for this exact thing, but they were all looking around the room. They all knew the case best, they knew how to gage human behavior, they knew what they were supposed to look for in the unsub.

It had to be one of them.

“Prentiss and JJ can't go,” Derek said, looking at the two of them who looked relieved at the fact.

‘And Hotch you can't go, you have to take care of Jack.”

Rossi cleared his throat, his team members looked at him. “I’m taking my name out of the ballet. I’m too old for this,” he said, sending a laugh around the room.

Derek sighed and looked at Hotch. “I don't think I’m a good choice. I’m more intimidating, and she would be more comfortable around someone her age.”

They all silently looked to Spencer, who was looking down at his file, reading everything over again.

It was only when Hotch cleared his throat that he looked up.

“Reid? Are you comfortable going?”

Spencer stared at him shocked. “Me?” he asked, his voice cracking.

He wasn't good with people in general, and he’d never been good with girls. If they wanted to make the unsub comfortable, he was the worst option.

“Come on kid,” Derek started, “You’re the closest to her age, you’re the most approachable. You’ll remember the most about her behavior, and you’ll learn her schedule quicker than any of us. Plus, you already know your way around Las Vegas.”

The rest of the team nodded in agreement, while Spencer still looked terrified.

“And plus,” Emily spoke up, hoping to convince Spencer, “She works at a bookstore.”

Everyone but Hotch and Spencer laughed.

Spencer was stuck. He didn't know how to talk to people, he didn't know how to get to know someone. He was only good with facts, and talking to an unsub- one that he was supposed to make comfortable -did not involve facts.

But, he knew his team needed him, he knew that they were all stressed, that the others had taken the losses harder than he had. He knew that if he could do this if he could learn about this girl, the world would be clearer for his family.

“Reid, I only want you to do this if you’re comfortable.” Hotch pulled Reid out of his thoughts, his eyes stern and unmoving. His voice was completely serious, and Spencer could hear hints of reassurance in his words. It was comforting to know that Hotch trusted him to make the right decision.

Spencer took a deep breath. Reminded himself that his team trusted him too.

“Alright. I’ll do it.”

***

An apartment.

They would get him an apartment.

He would live in Las Vegas for as long as he deemed necessary.

He would stay and he would learn everything he could about Y/N.

He would profile her, send reports back to his team.

He would try and talk to her. He would try to get to know her.

He would change everything.

He would do his job.

He would talk to a girl.

A girl.

A murderer.

A girl. He would have to talk to her.

He would.

A girl.

“Hi, I’m Spencer.”

***

reminder that this is part one, and its more of a introduction than the actual story

sorry if it sucked

my masterlist:

part two

#spencer reid smut #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds rp #criminal minds headcanons #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fan #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #mgg #mgg x reader #mgg blurb #mgg fanfiction

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spc4eva · 4 years ago

Text

Star-Burned: Chapter Two

Ngl, reader is well endowed in the breast department. hate me. trust me, reader is gonna complain about it later about her back hurting.

Paz fluff is probably my favorite thing to write. This fic is undoing me. Goddammit.

Word Count: 8,626

Rating: M (+18) oral sex m!receiving

Masterlist

Cross Posted on AO3

Paz barely understood what was happening when he'd crash landed, falling out of hyperspace and being thrown around the hull of his ship like a tin can before crash landing. It was miraculous he'd survived with just broken ribs. An even bigger miracle that he'd been found.

You were a pretty young lady with more hair than should be humanly possible, a ray of sunshine, and so hilariously goofy that Paz was smiling beneath his helmet half the time as you trotted in with meals for him, eying him beneath your mop of hair --- which you often tried to manage in a ponytail, though ringlets would fall free and cascade into your face smattered with a constellation of freckles. That's why he named you Tranyc -- Mando'a for sunny or quite literally translating to 'star-burned', because you were the ray of sunshine on his day while he was stuck in bed healing. You were good company, easy to talk to, never berated him despite how much of a burden he was. Took him less than a day to realize you were on your own, running the entire moisture farm on nothing but cultivated crops and several cups of caf a day. And despite how often you fumble over words, you were smart.

There wasn't much to do and the highlights of Paz's day consisted of you spending time with him. You had piled all your holobooks near him, given him the remote for the television, and anything else you thought he might like while you wandered off to go make repairs and tend to your livelihood. You must've been tired. The farm was a fulltime job on its own and now you had to look after him. Paz felt guilty, because you'd not complained once, not asked him for credits or when he might be leaving. You were cautiously curious, but not impolite with your questions. Not many people would have chanced bringing a Mandalorian into their home, let alone a young woman on her own. That was what was different about you and maybe it had to do with Paz's sheer luck of landing on a relatively backwater planet where people weren't in fear of their lives constantly.

Paz had lucked out.

He hated feeling weak, being unable to walk on his own, but you were blissfully patient and kind, cracking jokes and making silly faces, telling him how he'd be good as new to start back up on hunting -- or whatever it was that Mandalorians did. And while he was eager to not have his ribs feel as if they'd been kicked in by a bantha, he was also ruing the countdown for when he'd have to return to his ship and leave you behind. Despite it being a few scant weeks, Paz liked you. Not just because you were pretty, but he found your demeanor relaxing. So when he managed to get to his feet to go to the kitchen and he saw your hair sticking out on the couch, he trotted over without an afterthought to check on you.

He hadn't been expecting to see your coveralls crumpled on the floor and your beet red facing eying him in horror. Originally, he'd believed you were hurt from when he'd fallen on you. After all, you were a small thing. Despite being lean from working the farm you were dwarfed by him. And when the blanket had fallen over... Paz's mind began turning, the gears clicking into place, the disbelief that the pretty ray of sunshine had been caught in the midst of masturbating. To the thought of him.

Until that point you'd been hospitable and courteous, it was the last thing he expected and dangling deliciously in front of him like a forbidden fruit. He more than owed you at this point. He owed you his life and getting you off wasn't really repayment. In fact, Paz had enjoyed it, thinking the situation was more self indulgent than selfless. You became putty in his hands, passing out from a mixture of exhaustion and satisfaction. That brought a smile to his face -- well, there had already been a smile -- but it was bigger now.

He didn't mind cleaning you up and putting you into some more comfortable clothing, tucking you into the large bed that had obviously been yours. He had found discarded hair elastics under the pillows and a few socks that had been lost to the depths of the sheets. You had taken care of him, he could manage picking up your tiny form and putting you to bed. You didn't come around until morning when Paz was up in the fresher, still testing his weight on his aching chest.

"You can walk now," you popped your head through the open door, stating the obvious, but it made him smile that you weren't half as doleful as he'd thought you'd be after yesterday. "Um... I can make breakfast real quick and then there's something I wanna show you if you're up to it."

"If I'm up to it?" Paz rumbled, he still couldn't wear his armor, the weight would be too much of a burden. "How are you feeling?"

Your face brightened with blush immediately, matching the hue of your flaming locks at the sheer mention. "G-good, th-thank you."

The moment he'd put you to bed, he'd staggered off to the fresher to relieve himself and the throbbing erection he had from going through his ministrations. Not that you needed to know that he had been wanting more. Yesterday hadn't been about him. The last few weeks you had doted your attention on him.

"Good."

You darted away, back in your usual attire which consisted of mechanic coveralls, boots, and a tightfitting short sleeve shirt in russet. Your arms were bared from the bicep down and you wore a pair of beat up leather gloves, hair cinched at the base of your neck with a straining scrunchie that fought desperately to contain all the curls which rebelled at being held against the back of your slightly too large overalls.

Truthfully, you were very nervous over what had happened yesterday and even more distressed that you had slept away the entire freaking day. The hardworking farmer in you was berating you with every step, unbelievable, you slept the entire day until breakfast. Now, when drifters had stayed and you had slept with them, you had woken up and prepared breakfast without an afterthought. There was no guilt, no twisting of nerves in your tummy, because you knew that what had happened was a simple arrangement of two lonely people breaking up the cobwebs. What happened with the Mandalorian should have felt the same, but it didn't. Only one man had stayed a few days and engaged in multiple trysts and by the end, he'd been asking you to leave behind the moisture farm to go adventuring with him. While that was a very... juicy prospect, you couldn't think about leaving behind the canyons you'd known your entire life. You loved it here, even if it was solitude and silence.

From the views up on the plateau where your farm was located, a bird's eye view of the spanning clay walls, billowing in waves of amber, brown, and orange. Your favorite days were the overcast ones where the clouds would sweep low and fringe the mountaintops with mist. That was during the wet season when the lowest parts of the canyons would fill with turquoise water from the rain. The only freestanding water you'd ever gotten the luxury of seeing and it was still a trip on your speeder bike since you lived pretty high up on the plateaus. Wasn't that time of year though, it was still the dry season and so you had to keep regular maintenance on the farm to suck every bit of moisture up.

You kept mostly grains on the farm, but had a few animals to include tip-yips which produced eggs. Otherwise, any greenery you had was produced in your greenhouse, utilizing misty puffs of water to keep it nice and humid inside. Without it, you certainly wouldn't have been getting enough nutrients to live out this remote. You would stock up on seed every six months and grow leafy greens, root vegetables, had a few berry bushes, and rhubarbs. They were genetically modified to have additional benefits, keeping you going and healthy. You loved checking in on them, standing in your little bubble of green, imagining other planets that looked just like it but instead of being in a little capsule -- the entire planet was green. That was hard to fathom, giving the landscape you'd grown up on, but so were oceans and you knew they existed.

Jumbles followed you out to the coop, drooling all over the dirt as you scolded him for getting too close. His head drooped and he stayed behind while you picked out some fresh eggs and threw fodder out for the tip-yips. You knew if you didn't keep the birds carefully locked up, Jumbles would gobble them all up. "Calm down. I'll give you some eggs you beast," you chided as you stopped in the green house to pick a few vegetables and fruit before going back inside. You'd never wanted more aside from companionship and to not be alone. You loved your farm so much and all the work you had put into it. You loved this dry, arid planet and the raw beauty you got to witness. But you weren't perfectly content.

You were lonely.

Paz was waiting in the kitchen at the table, which was funny, considering he couldn't actually eat with you. Humming to yourself, you put a pot of caf on and then frowned at 6PO, who wandered around aimlessly. "6PO please make yourself useful. Go sweep out the greenhouse if you can't decide on what to do," you sigh, the droid looking as confused as ever, before creaking out the front door.

"Where did you get that droid?" Paz asked curiously as you set a skillet on the stove and began heating it up.

"Found it," you shrug. "Wasn't in one piece, so I scavenged parts and put it all back together again. Some of the neural harnessing was missing, so the droid will never be complete unless I replace it entirely."

"You mean you reprogrammed it?" he actually sounded sort of impressed.

You rolled your shoulders again. "Yeah, suppose so. Wasn't too hard. Lots of trial and error... and caf." And time. During the wet season you had more time on your hands and so typically that's when you'd spend it on projects.

"How'd you learn how to do that? Droids are complicated pieces of tech."

"My dad taught me. He was an engineer, could run this whole place without even trying. Always knew how to fix everything," you gave a sad chuckle at the thought of your parents. You missed them so much. Maybe if they hadn't passed you wouldn't be half as lonely and feeling as if there was something missing in your life. "Studied on... Coruscant, I think? Before the war broke out. Round 20BBY he came out here with my mom and I because they wanted to avoid the fighting."

"And he taught you everything he knew," Paz assumed.

"Oh, well, I mean, probably not everything. He probably would have found a way to fix 6PO completely."

"Do you mind if I ask what happened?"

The corner of your mouth quirked involuntarily and you stared down at the pan as you began sautéing the cut up tubulars. "We get a wet season here every standard year. The canyons are vast, mostly stone, and not porous. My mother was sick, so they had to make a visit to the city which is a 2 day trip on bike. Usually, we don't leave during the wet season. Too dangerous. But mom's condition wasn't improving and so my father decided the risk was worth it.

"In order to get to the city, you have to go through the canyons. This time of year, no big deal, but during the wet season? Can start raining without warning and when it does, the crevasses act as funnels, diverting water to the lowest point, which... you're catching my drift, right?" You glance up, not particularly fond of explaining how nature worked around here, especially when it had taken your parents from you.

"Flash floods?"

"Mm," you began cracking the eggs. "Can't outrun a flash flood. Not on a speeder bike. They drowned. So-" you drew in a sharp breath. You had rationalized this several times over. Never really talked about it, but it didn't make you cry anymore. This planet had been good to you. Better than most people could hope for when they settled on a farm. You knew that you were lucky because of that and you couldn't resent the planet even if it took your parents from you. "The Jawas found them a little while after that. They know us, we trade with them -- I still do -- and they brought my parents back for me. Despite what people say about them, they didn't ask me for payment."

"I'm sorry... was that six years ago?"

"Mhm," you confirmed, wiping your hands off and picking up a few eggs, cracking them over your massiff's eagerly waiting mouth. "Not your fault. Might be safe from raiders and looters, but it's a harsh unforgiving landscape. Sometimes you get too comfortable and forget about that. My dad knew the risks when he took my mother. They lived a good life, just wish they didn't have to go that way." You wish you hadn't been left alone.

"Where's the closest neighbor aside from the Jawas?"

"Hundreds of miles," now you were plating the food and grabbing mugs for the caf. "The canyons are the best place to set up moisture farms. The deserts soak up all the water from the wet seasons, but due to the stone around here, it's a lot easier for moisture to be trapped in the vaporators. However, they're remote and a lot of the plateaus are too dangerous to set up on because the foundation of stone is likely to crumble. Only about three farms in all of the canyons and this is one of them. We're the highest producers of water on the planet, especially during the wet season. 'Bout the only time I see starships since the city will come and pick it up."

You slapped Jumbles on the nose as he leaned over the counter toward one of the freshly assembled breakfasts, causing him to whine. "Oh shut it you baby," you hadn't even hit him that hard, just a little boop on the nose and he was pretending you'd wailed into him. "Drama queen."

You brought Paz's food over for him and went to grab your own. "I can go outside. A few things I can start on before we head out."

"Sit down and eat first," he invited, which confused you, because how were the both of you going to eat with the whole helmet situation. "If you sit at the counter with your back to me, it'll be fine."

Oh, well that went against what he said about only removing his helmet when he was alone. But... that also meant he trusted you. How many opportunities did you have to remove his helmet? The first day you probably could have if you weren't terrified of being shot. Until you'd gotten to know Paz better, he had been the big scary Mandalorian and not the patient and easygoing one you knew now. "Are you certain? I mean, it's not a big deal. I eat on the go all the time," you object kindly, not wishing for him to feel obligated to have you in your own kitchen.

"Sit," he insisted.

"Well, I mean-" you grabbed a chair, mostly talking to yourself when you muttered those words and pulled it up to the counter. Jumbles was drooling on your leg, looking at you as if you hung the stars, which admittedly -- was quite cute except for the fact that you knew he just wanted your leftovers.

"Where'd you get a massiff?" There was a click and a hiss, the helmet disengaging and being set on the table. You tried not to think about how easy it would be to turn around and finally get a look at him, focusing on your cup of caf instead.

"Kind of just... found him," you reveal, thinking about the day you'd stood toe to toe with the beast, your arms full of scrap metal, wondering if you were going to have to use the bacta shot after getting munched on by the creature. "Thought he was gonna try and eat me."

"It's wild?" Paz's voice was different, unmodulated. There was still the same warmth you were used to, but the lack of the radio static and translation from human to droid made your skin hot, little lances of static playing down your spine as the deep bass in its full glory.

"Uuuuh," you almost forget that you're eating, your egg falling off the fork and onto your lap. Jumbles gobbles it up before you even think about grabbing it. "Jee-uh-yeah. Started feeding him scraps, probably shouldn't have done that, and then he kinda just started listening to me. I read that on Tatooine Tusken Raiders keep them as hounds, so I thought that maybe they're just partial to bonding with sentient beings."

Honestly, you'd always been good with animals. An uncanny, unnatural, totally unexplainable ability you'd possessed since you were a kid and ran into a wild dewback and nearly pissed yourself. Instead of swallowing you whole, the dewback had palmed your hand and then trotted off. The canyons were host to a plethora of fauna, many of which were quite dangerous. Having Jumbles had actually saved your skin more often than not, as the canine was keen on keeping his source of food around.

"When they're raised from pups they are," Paz informed you.

"Oooh. Well, I found Jumbles when he was an adult," you gave the dope a fond pat on the head. He leaned into your gloved grasp and harrumphed contentedly. "Maybe he was already trained and got lost." Yeah, that sounded more logical than your weird animal whispering abilities. "He's been good. If not for him, I don't think I would have found you. He's the one who led me over to your starship." And that's when you realized something. "H-hey, Jumbles is living and your helmet-"

"I'm not worried about a massiff seeing me," Paz chuckled. "I'm not going to shoot your dog."

"I-I didn't say you were," you stammer, heart fluttering a little bit as you gripped one of the massiff's spines to comfort yourself. He could very easily shoot your dog. Did he want to shoot your dog? You didn’t think so, but you weren’t keen on losing him. "Just you said no living thing and then you'd only take your helmet off alone..."

"No living sentient thing," he corrected, his silverware clattering before the helmet clicked back into place. A tiny wave of disappointment washed off you, almost as if you were expecting to get a little more time with his raw unfiltered voice. "Thank you for breakfast. Good as always."

You blushed slightly at the compliment. It was just simple food, hearty enough to keep you going throughout the day. Standing up, you nearly whirled into the Mandalorian's chest as you went to retrieve his things for him. Catching yourself before you did, you offered an apologetic smile before frisking the plate from him and placing it in the sink for later. It was a sonic sink, you were very careful about how water was used. Only for food and growing plants.

Out by the front door you grabbed your outing belt, which had your blaster and a set of tools that you'd been using. Picking up the sack beside it, laden with a few canteens, ration bars, and holobooks you glanced back at Paz. He still didn't have his armor on, but he did adorn his belt with a vibro-blade and pistol. "C'mon," you told him, offering a small wave before striding out the front door and into the crisp, sunny morning.

Drinking in a deep breath of dry air, you gave a dizzying and pleased smile before beginning to talk. "Now, I told you that I borrowed your speeder bike to get us back up here. There was a bit of damage to it since it took a beating during the crash. Most superficial, which I managed to get the dings out of the metal and replace the exhausts which were nearly crushed. Probably needs a new paint job, but I didn't have any paint laying around," you explained, bringing him over to the bike. You'd doted a bit of time on it, because you knew bikes and it was easy for you to fix. Plus it was nicer than the one you had on the farm, so you'd been using it to go back and forth between the ranch and his starship.

Paz's helmet was craned down as he gave the bike a one over and your original pride began to fizzle out with each beat of silence. Finally, "You did a really good job. It... didn't take up too much of your time, did it?"

"Hm? Oh no, not at all. Bikes are easy, fixed plenty of bikes in much worse condition than this," you gave it a fond pat, relief flooding you that he wasn't upset that you'd fiddled with it. "But this isn't what I wanted to show you," you climbed on. "Hop on!"

Paz chuckled at your overexuberance, the way the bike looked much too big for someone of your stature. Afterall, it was his bike and so he'd gotten one that would fit his physique. Your arms were stretched upward to meet the accelerators and it was quite comical from the dopey, excited smile on your face to the way your legs barely reached the stirrups. He sat on behind you, edging up comfortably so that his thighs framed you.

"Might wanna hang on," you warned mischievously.

"What, this isn't going to be a leisurely ride?"

"The canyons look much the same when boxed in. Trust me, just hang on," you told him, feeling your cheeks roll was heated pleasure as strong arms encircled you and his pelvis pressed tighter to your backside. Oh, that felt really good, almost enough that you could lean back into his strong embrace and relax as you started this ride. But... No. You chased away the devious thoughts and tried not to fixate on the sturdy Mandalorian behind you as you revved the engine. It purred like a loth-cat, humming deliciously before you kicked off and started whistling down the hill and into the chasm that led into the canyons.

He wasn't expecting how quickly the two of you rocketed off. Arms tensing around you to prevent himself from sliding right off as gravity snared him, he let out a breathy laugh. "You weren't kidding."

"Tried to warn you," you laughed at him, shouting over the din of the motors that echoed against the canyon walls. Bowing your head ever so much, you went up another gear and stuck the wide turn. He grabbed on again, his chest now flush to your back as you dared to accelerate again.

"Where-" his voice was breathless in your ear. "Where did you learn how to drive like this?"

"Mom," you grin. "Dad was the engineer. Mom was the podracer."

"Kriff!" he cursed as you hooked the bike, reversed the thrusters, and then sputtered a sharp turn that should not have been possible except for the trick maneuver. During down time and on your long journeys to the city, you'd picked up a thing or two from your mother. Speeder bikes were easy compared to podracers, she'd tell you. Small, streamline, and capable of quite a few tricks if you understood the inertia, gravity, and capabilities of the machine you were on. Passing the signs out for the Jawas, you curved the halt, brakes slamming as the sideways turn kicked up clay sand and dust. He was still clinging to you even after you'd stopped.

"Did I frighten the big Mandalorian?" you teased, his vice grip finally relenting after taking a moment to realize that you stopped.

Paz's muscles were vibrating from the adrenaline filling him from helmet to boot from the ride. The last thing he'd been expecting from you, the little farmhand mechanic, were daring turns and hiking the bike up to full speed without as much of an ounce of panic as you tried to take a 90 degree turn. Even Paz wasn't as gutsy with a bike to attempt what you had done, but you'd stuck the turn gloriously and were laughing at him now. He hadn't realized that he could like you more, but you were filled with pleasant little surprises.

"Can you podrace too?" he countered as he let you go and you hopped down, springy, unaffected and brimming with joy. Your hair was scattered a bit, a few curls puffing loose from your scrunchie.

"Never tried, but can't be too difficult," you reply. Not arrogance or mock confidence, just... the comprehension of someone who knew a lot about machines and how they worked. "Now, come take a look. Gotta talk to you about somethings-" you padded away, leaving Paz to dismount and trail after you.

The ship still had a hole in the hull, landing gear squashed, but the supply crates had been moved back inside. For something that had crash landed, Paz was astonished how intact it appeared. The reason for his confusion was soon explained as you brought him inside and he saw that wires had been soldered off and repairs had been made.

"So, I've been heading out here when I can to make sure the thing didn't leak its fuel lines everywhere," you started, gesturing to the neatly arranged containers. "Now, I'm not a starship mechanic, but I have a few old holobooks and the manual that was laying around in here. I read up on them and was able to figure out that the fuel line was cut -- managed to fix that -- and the engines were running at 10% capacity after debris got sucked in. That's how the thing didn't explode on impact, the thrusters were still working enough that it padded your landing.

"Landing gear is shot. I don't have any lifts strong enough to hoist the ship up or the proper caliber of steel to fix the hull. I got the engines to bout 50%, so theoretically that should get you to the spaceport on the other side of the planet. Gonna be crunchy, don't know what's hiding underneath here. So you've got a few options -- try your best to get to the spaceport and the pay for repairs there, you can try to get off planet, though next planet over is Tatooine and you'd pay an arm and a leg for shoddy repairs, or we can try trading with the Jawas. They've got their sandcrawler which might have the capability of picking your ship up, but won't be cheap. Even with my connections they're gonna want something good."

Paz was flabbergasted and at a loss for words as he looked at the work you'd done on top of the farm, on top of taking care of him, and how candid you were about what solutions he had going forward. "How did you have the time to do all this?" he asked.

"Hm?" you were looking over at a few wires that needed to be routed properly. "Uh, lots and lots of caf."

No wonder you had passed out for over 16 hours yesterday. Additionally, you'd read dry holobooks on starships and for what? To help him? At this point he knew that you weren't expecting anything out of it. He'd not been to a lot of backwater planets, but he was beginning to realize that people like you were more common in these quiet remote locations, just happy to be helping. Why that nearly broke him right there, he couldn't say, but he was absolutely moved by your selfless compassion that you didn't even really acknowledge, because it was all so natural to you. A little gem in the canyons, hiding up on your plateau farming water.

"What do I owe you? Repairs like this cost a lot... you've saved me a lot of credits, Tranyc."

You were a little distracted, admittedly, your eyes finding the problems you hadn't remedied yet. "Owe me?" you repeated before finally looking back toward the visor. "You're my guest. Don't worry about it. Consider it a little bit of desert hospitality. There's still some work I need to do, haven't gotten round to it, but I figured you'd want to see your ship."

He didn't owe anything. How didn't he owe anything? Paz was shell shocked as you turned away, removing a set of pliers from your tool belt as you started working on the frayed wires that were getting on your nerves. People always wanted something, no matter how minute or simple it was and yet... You were fiddling along, pleased as a womp rat in sand you continued to chug along as if he weren't even there. And you'd learned how to do this in weeks? Taught yourself how to do it? Your parents had to have been smart and if your father studied at university on Coruscant -- you might've been modest about it, but that meant he'd imparted the same years of study into you while you grew up.

He knew how to make baseline repairs, how to weld, and keep the ship from falling apart. What you were doing -- he had no idea how to do. Truthfully, the gunship needed a lot of work before it was going to be good enough to leave the planet and you were correct -- parts were needed. Sitting on a storage crate, he placed his helmet in his palm and rubbed his aching ribs, trying to think of which path would be the best option. Going to the spaceport meant that he'd leave you behind. He also didn't know how much repairs were going to cost on this planet. Flying to Tatooine was just a bad decision all around, who knew if the ship could handle it. Then trading with Jawas... It would keep him around you for a bit longer and you knew the Jawas. He was bound to have something that they wanted aboard the Kote. He could also use a talented mechanic, but somehow doubted that you'd be willing to part with your farm.

The way you'd talked about your home, you were very proud of it and you loved the landscape. But still... all alone... he didn't like the thought of that. Even if this planet was relatively safe, what if the Jawas found your body in the canyon ravines?

He had been lost to his thoughts as you worked, the ship heating up in the midday sun. You'd flipped down the straps of your coveralls to work and that's when he noticed. A thin sheen of sweat decorated your arms, a few curls sticking to your face as you hunched over the controls for his cryo chamber. But that wasn't what attracted his attention. No, it was the swell of your breasts beneath the fitted shirt you wore, the perky mounds that were well sized for your slender form. The fabric left little to the imagination, mostly because you weren't wearing a bra. Why would you? You lived on your own and bras were awful, constricting things that made you even clammier on hot days. Plus they were stupidly expensive.

The coveralls usually kept them hidden, but with the thick panel of fabric cast down, Paz was staring. He'd been distracted by your lower half yesterday, but not his fixation was on the top. How could you look so good in just a tight fitting shirt that didn't betray any cleavage? He estimated that each would be more than a handful for him, the nipples pressing through the fabric and you didn't notice, completely unaware of the lack of decorum because you were a farmer and those sort of things probably didn't pop into your mind. Which was why he felt a tiny bit ashamed watching you, eying you from the protective mask of his helmet. Would you want him to touch you again? You had told him that you'd been getting off to him, but perhaps that was in the moment when he'd caught you.

Neither of you had broached the subject this morning, but nor were you being incredibly demure or shy. You were just being normal.

"Wanna toss me a canteen from in there?" you asked, pointing to the bag you'd dumped by the hole in the hull.

Paz tore his eyes away, glancing down, retrieving the requested item. Tossing it to you, you caught it and upcapped it, taking a few generous gulps and spilling some on yourself. He gritted his teeth as you wiped your mouth, the soft plush lips having been locked around the rim, the water seeping into your shirt. Your shirt. Dank farrik. Now he was staring again, hopelessly pressing his palms together as he tried to keep it together. Stars, he wanted more of you than just the bit of pleasure he'd brought yesterday, but it wasn't his place to take it. You'd already gone above and beyond in assisting him and so he couldn't just ask you to sleep with him, no matter how much he wanted it. That felt... wrong. Like a dirty, awful thing to request after he'd come to like you -- only utilizing you for your body in the end and not the company he'd grown fond of.

"Did you think about what you're gonna do?" you ask him, drawing his visor back up to you.

"The Jawas--" his voice was kinda hoarse, which made you tilt your head. "Might have something on here that they'd like."

A smile unfurled on your face, because secretly you'd been praying that he'd choose that option. Just stealing more time with the Mandalorian, despite the fact that he was stranded. You didn't want him to leave, but it was going to happen eventually, just like it did with everyone else who came here. Everyone left. Everyone but you and the animals. You were pretty sure you were gonna cry like a baby when the Mandalorian finally departed. "I can send 'em a transmission tonight. Probably will take them the better part of a day to get here, but they'll come."

"Thank you again," Paz insisted, but you brushed it off with a silly and overly dramatic hand wave.

"There's gotta be some kindness in this galaxy. 'Else it'd be a sad, miserable, hopeless place," you counter, springing back to your feet, dusting your gloves off animatedly. "Let's finish up in here and then head back. Got some work I have to do on the farm too."

Sonic showers weren't the best, but they were all that you knew. Aside from when the rain would billet down during the wet seasons, you didn't know what an actual water shower felt like. Either way, you needed to get the sweat and grime off of you by the end of each day, so you trotted out with your pajamas on and into the Mandalorian. You'd already contacted the Jawas and were getting ready to tuck in for the night when he caught you. "Oof, sorry... I-I didn't hurt your ribs did I?" Your eyes flitted to where his injury was immediately.

"I'm fine," he assured you, large hands butterflied against your sides where he'd caught you from doing too much damage by trolloping right into his chest. Big. His hands were big. So large that they covered your ribs entirely when gripping your sides. They lingered, the skin beneath growing hot and beginning to tingle. Then he removed them, as if he were worried about overstaying his welcome.

Your skin sighed where he released and you glanced up chewing your lip. "Um..." uncertain -- you didn't know where this was going, but why the hell not. What did you have to lose? He was stuck here until his ship was going to be fixed. "Yesterday--"

"I'm sorry, I really shouldn't have done that," Paz interrupted, launching your heart up into your throat.

"Wha-no, I liked it," you assured him, feeling courageous enough to take his hands in yours. Maker, you looked like a child, holding those large calloused palms in yours. "I... wouldn't mind more. I-i-if that's what you want, of course," you sputtered, cheeks sweltering and ears about to rocket off from the intense embarrassment you felt in suggesting such a thing. It'd been easier before. You could see the faces of your guests, gauge what they were thinking, see the lust in their eyes that you could give right back. They'd never stayed this long, never gotten to know you this well, and... you didn't want to make him uncomfortable because you felt a little horny with him around. But Maker, how was that not possible? He was an absolute unit, pure muscle, easy conversation, and had a voice that shattered your resolve like an earthquake.

"Would I want more?" he repeated slowly and your stomach sunk into the abyss, blood draining from your face. The leap of faith had been in vain and instead of swan diving into water, you'd hit stone. And then suddenly his hands were on your chest, driving the air from your in uncontrolled gasps as he squeezed. "Maker--" he cursed, vocoder breaking up as you almost melted on the spot. "So... you're so mesh'la. Had my eyes on you all day while you were working. You're such... a distraction."

He wasn't rough, despite holding onto your breasts, moving carefully over the fabric as he caressed you. In the past, your chest had been a fixation of other lovers because you were well endowed and you were accustomed to rough squeezing to the point where it was painful. It was almost as if most men just wanted to push them until they popped or just liked the pillowy sensation of squeezing and didn't care much for how it felt for you. They were bloody sensitive and you didn't appreciate them being manhandled -- except for right now, right now was good. Better than good in fact.

"Distraction? I'm the one doing all the work," you mumbled, leaning into his touch as he palmed you and rubbed circles over your breasts, the nipples stiffening beneath the fabric and dimpling it. "While you just... just sit there."

"I'm still hurt," he didn't sound very convincing, maybe that wasn't the point.

"Too hurt to be doing anything too... arduous," you pointed out, humming as he gave another gentle squeeze. "Last night did you-- I sort of just--" passed out. Say it. You passed out and left him there with an erection. That couldn't have been too pleasant. To top it off with a cherry, he'd put you to bed with clothes on.

"I took care of things, mesh'la. You left me with some... good visuals," his thumb was circling your nipple, still separated by your shirt, the careful flicking making you shudder. Your entire body was reacting, legs weak and the same radiating heat vibrating between your thighs.

"Bu-ut it couldn't have been that great. N-not like..." you fell off, head lolling slightly as his hands flipped the hem of your shirt and began cruising the plane of your tummy, scratching its way to your breast. A hot palm met skin, a low moan echoing as he grasped you firmly, but not too hard.

"Stars, you're so soft," he murmured, pushing the shirt up -- higher and higher until your breasts were revealed to the air. "Maker, look at you."

The praise made your thighs clench together. They didn't usually talk. Not as much as Paz was, which was somewhat ironic considering he had a helmet on and was a mysterious Mandalorian and yet he filled your ears up as he roamed you. No, it was all typically rushed, frenzied, and to sate both parties. Honestly, the sate part was just the rutting, having to take your own hands to your clit while your past lovers plowed into you. There was no copious foreplay aside from a little making out and breast squeezing and while they'd called you pretty, it never really felt the same as the way as Paz's voice. The way in which he was breathy, as if he couldn't believe his eyes, and that you'd been put on the planet delicately by the Maker himself. It made your heart rush, galloping forward, and it made you want him more.

"Le-let me," you found your hands, having been savoring his exploring before brushing the hem of his trousers. You had felt him, sort of, yesterday but you didn't actually know what was beneath the belt. From how tall and broad he was, you had an assumption of what was there. "Y-you're still hurt, s-so..." pitifully tinny, your voice was sliding away as you offered to give him something in exchange for what he'd done for you.

"Mesh'la... I-you have already done so much-" he protested.

"But yesterday--" you were whining now, hand coasting down more until you cupped his groin, feeling his length twitch. He was already hard. You weren't even undressed and he was already rock solid. "It'll feel better this way."

"Is... is that what you want?"

You nod, waiting for permission.

He couldn't say no. Not while your palm was between his legs and you were staring up at him with big, round, imploring eyes. In fact, he didn't think he could possibly deny you anything, removing his hands, the shirt falling back down over your spectacular chest. "I-Yes," he confirmed, drawing a shaking breath which made his ribs ache.

You undid the belt buckle, hands scrambling slightly from nerves before undoing the buttons. Coming down on your knees didn't really work, there was still too much of a height difference, forcing you to half-crouch as your fingers slipped beneath the fabric of his boxes and untucked his manhood. Now it was your turn to be wordless. You had expected it, but expecting and witnessing were two very different things. He was massive, just the sight of him making your core twitch painfully, imagining trying to accommodate him, doubting that he'd even be able to fully sheath himself in you without pushing into your tummy. If he could even get in.

Ok, so when you had offered to do this you thought he would fit in your mouth. Doubt welled in your stomach and he must have noticed as you stared down his cock, brushing a hand over your loose hair. "You don't have to-" he soothed. But the challenge spurned you on, undaunted and a little over zealous to be honest.

"You'll tell me... what you like?" you had just flattened your tongue against the weeping head of his cock, licking like a kitten, lathing him before you'd attempt to take more.

His thighs shook and he gave a terse nod.

You weren't extremely experienced in this field. Just enough that you knew now not to bite someone. But this wasn't just 'someone'. You liked Paz a lot and wanted it to feel good for him. To chase away the pain in his chest and to show how much you appreciated what he'd done for you. Guys liked blowjobs, didn't they? That's why they were requested so much, you just assumed that he'd like it all the same, and honestly you wanted to become more intimate with his cock after feeling it pressed beneath your leg.

You ran your tongue along his shaft, trailing back around before leaving saliva. Your hand smoothed the wetness over him, pumping a few times over his length to help lubricate him. Then you made your first attempt, tongue over your lips as you pushed his girth into the damp chasm of your mouth. He groaned, fingers tightening in your hair, which gave you the courage to take him deeper. The head of his cock met the resistance of the back of your throat and you gagged, eyes watering and jaw aching. "Relax, mesh'la. Relax your throat-" he managed gently through tight breaths.

Easier said than done, forgetting to breathe, your throat clenching, you were forced to pull away for a moment.

Spittle trailed down your plush lips, cheeks flushed wildly as you considered your next approach. You were a sight for sore eyes, Paz's own glued to you as you gasped for air. You'd bitten off more than you could chew, but he admired your undaunted commitment as you sank back onto him and closed your eyes, clutching onto his leg for balance. This time, you were able to take his guidance better, breathing through your nose before easing your throat. Your mouth was small, tight, and damp. With the accommodation of the back of your throat, Paz's hips bucked and a strangled moan crackled through the modulator.

"G-good. Fuck -- so good, mesh'la," he praised, beginning to move in tandem with you, fucking deeply into your throat. Your face was hot and wet, tears leaking out from your eyes at the sensation of your throat being stretched. The noises were wet and sloppy, punctuated by sharp hums as you tried to do well, to do what he wanted, to keep going -- but Maker, it hurt. Your attention was fixated completely on pleasing him, forgetting entirely about your own climbing heat, just trying not to clench your throat or forget to breathe through your nose. Then you dared it, reaching up and grabbing his balls, massaging them in your palm gently as he pushed into you. "Ahh- oh, fuck-- I'm going to cum. Do you want me to--"

You managed the smallest nod, squeezing him tighter as his thrusts rocked you, shattering almost all your resolve as you gagged. Ropes of cum splattered in the back of your throat, your lips suctioning to him as he stuttered to a halt, palm on the back of your head. His skin was like velvet on your tongue, slightly salty, but smooth and soft. Lavishing the last drops from his cock like precious water from the desert. In fact, it was more precious than water, more rare.

"Mesh'la... ohh," he keened softly, his hand spreading over your hair, petting you, brushing the curls from your face - which was wet with spilled tears, saliva, and a little cum. Releasing him from your sweet mouth, he brushed the white droplets from the corner of your lips, which you sucked off after it being offered. "W-what did I do?"

You tilted your head in confusion.

"What did I do to deserve you?"

You tried to talk, but your voice crackled in the back of your throat, so hoarse and quiet that you simply shut your mouth and blinked. Oh fuck. Had he broken your vocal chords? Panic began to seize you and you clutched his leg and offered a very broken, "UhhhmmMm."

He bent down, cupping your face, holding it between his palms as he took a good look at you. "I was a little too rough, wasn't I?"

"S'okay," fuck that hurt. Hurt to talk. Least you still had a voice.

"What do you want? Do you want me to--" His helmet was so close, almost brushing your nose as he looked at you. For a brief moment, you felt as if you were gazing into his eyes. What color were they? Brown? Green? Hazel? Maybe blue?

You shook your head and gave him a weary smile. That had literally taken everything out of you and you just wanted a cold glass of water and to curl up in bed. "Water. Sleep?..." you had to swallow again, struggling to get the words out. "W-with you?"

"Just... that?"

Oh no, had you chosen wrong? Did he really want to play with you? Honestly, you were good. Just making him finish had been enough for you. Your legs and throat ached, it had been a long day. You offered a dejected nod. No one ever really cuddled with you and you assumed that he'd be warm, comfortable, and feel like a blanket of protection. You wanted to feel that, even if only just once. Having sex wasn't as important as this to you. Sure, sex with him would probably be amazing, but you didn't want to overexert him because you were being greedy. Despite getting it infrequently, you'd never gotten a good cuddle. Not since you were a little girl and curled up in your parents' arms.

"Ok, ok, mesh'la," he agreed, smoothing your hair again before pushing his helmet to your brow. The gesture lit your cheeks up and felt... strangely intimate. Cool beskar kissing your sweating skin, chasing away the sweltering blush and just a thin layer between you and the Mandalorian. It felt like a kiss, but it wasn't. So gentle and tender that you let it linger and closed your eyes. "C'mon, it's been a long day," he muttered, gripping you beneath your elbow and guiding you to your feet. Your bed was just a few paces away and you were already dressed for it.

Who would have thought that a Mandalorian could be this... kind? From all the stories you'd heard, you had half-expected him to be a broody tin can that barely offered you the time of day. But there was a man underneath, a man who had desires, who had feelings, and who could be delicate. He wasn't all blasterfire, beskar, and war -- he was still a man.

He put you into bed, leaving the room for a moment to get a glass of water. You smiled at his return, accepting the offered water, and gulping it down. Your throat ailed and your jaw was already beginning to groan in protest. But the water helped. Putting it down on the nightstand, the Mandalorian removed his boots and climbed into bed with you, just trousers and an undershirt. Offering an open arm, his impressive bicep being revealed from beneath the short sleeve of his shirt.

You snuggled forward, heart pounding solidly in your ears as you tucked into his side. Maker, you loved this, the way his arm coiled around you, planting against the small of your back before tugging you in tightly. It wasn't as if you didn't feel safe in your home, you always did, but this was different. You trembled slightly because you'd yearned for this proximity, not just a rush of passion, but what came after and the security of him. From the strength of his muscles, to heat of his skin to yours, and the smell of him so close. This is what had been missing. The last piece to the puzzle that was home, the rut in your belly and soul curling pleasantly as you melted into him. Please never end. But you knew morning would come and one day he'd have to leave like everyone else. And you knew that day would be soul shattering. Because once again, you'd be alone.

#paz vizla x you #paz vizsla x reader #paz vizsla x you #the mandalorian fanfic #the mandalorian fanfiction #paz vizsla smut #smut with plot #smut with feelings #star-burned

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songofsaraneth · 3 years ago

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Ok now that I have time/space to breathe again, I wanted to do a writeup on the unusual reaction I had to the second Covid vaccine dose. I debated posting this, because I don't want to go against the "I was vaccinated and it's fine!" encouragement train. And I 1000% encourage EVERYONE to get vaccinated if possible. But I have not seen much documentation of the averse symptom I got, except in some case studies I specifically looked up so details below. Big TMI/gross warning however.

Mostly I'm posting this because I had to do SO much self-advocating/arguing with the Dr at my urgent care clinic, and if you're not as read up on weird medical issues as I am, you might not be comfortable doing that. But IANAD, just describing my experience and what I read, which ended up being very long because it was awful and I have a lot to complain about I guess, sorry.

Basically: for me the vaccine triggered an inflammation response, which in itself is normal. The usual muscle aches/joint pain/slight fever. It also triggered an outbreak of ulcers in my soft tissues. Basically, a bunch of canker sores in my mouth/throat. I am already prone to getting these when I get sick or stressed out, so no biggie, annoying and painful but I could handle them. Canker sores are distinct from cold sores in that they form inside the mouth as crater spots, usually around the size of a pencil eraser (though can be bigger or smaller), and will develop a white film across the crater as they develop and start to heal.

An unfortunate fact I have learned: the mouth is not the only exposed “soft tissue” of the body. this group also includes genitals.

So 2 days after the vaccine I noticed a "burning sensation"/rawness downstairs, which turned into a sharp pain, especially when going to the bathroom. I obviously knew this was abnormal and because of what was happening in my mouth, had a pretty firm idea of what was happening, but was ready to brace myself through the healing process. However by day 5 I had 8 red, crater-like sores on the tissue of my vulva. Essentially they are open wounds, and urine is an acid, so you can imagine the hell that using the bathroom had become. Even just sitting hurt.

As someone healthcare-averse, even I knew this was untenable, and went to Urgent Care for the first time in my adult life. I told the NP what was going on, how they matched the canker sores (NOT cold sores) in my mouth in onset/form--and she immediately, without even looking, diagnosed me with herpes.

Lots of people have herpes or other STIs, and that's fine. I know I do not have any, and wanted to pursue treatment for what I was sure they were--Non-sexually acquired genital ulceration (NSGU). I had even found three case studies of COVID patients who had developed them. I had spent several harrowing hours on google images making sure that the sores I had did not match any STI I may have magically acquired during a year of social distancing. I even brought up multiple case studies, including a woman who had them as a Covid reaction in a neighboring state. Didn’t matter. She looked at them and went “Yikes! Herpes!” and prescribed me:

1) an antiviral, which I said I did not think would do anything because the trigger for this was a vaccine not an illness. She said it was probably a herpes flare up already in my system. I reiterated that I have had similar sores in my mouth since childhood and that all my past doctors and dentists agreed it was not viral but something related to an immune response. She said the antivirals should clear them up in a few days.

2) a topical 5% lidocaine ointment, aka an oral grade numbing gel, which was essentially what I was after anyway.

I would have preferred a steroid course to the antiviral, but agreed to start taking them until she got the results of the bloodwork I needed to come in the next day for. I asked how many days after taking them I would expect to see a difference/if she would reevaluate treatment if they didn’t have an effect in a certain amount of time, and she said if they hadn’t cleared up by Monday then she’d look into other causes (spoiler, they did nothing in that 4 day span). to her credit, when she saw me pick up my bike helmet (because my car had been at the mechanic for a month by then), she was properly horrified that i was having to bike everywhere with this situation and printed off some coupons/called all the prescriptions into the grocery store pharmacy next door instead of the CVS my insurance likes a mile away.

So eventually I got home and took my pill & went to put on the ointment so I could use the bathroom for the first time in 8 hours. I’ll spare you the details but suffice to say I had an extremely, overwhelmingly painful 10 minutes of application. Like absolutely awful burning feeling. However once that faded, I was indeed actually numb, and so I figured it was worth it. Got my bloodwork done on Friday (biking there & home again). On Saturday, I thought that you know, maybe a prescription anesthetic shouldn’t be doing that or at least have some sort of warning? And read the details on the jar.

Good things about lidocaine: it is a powerful numbing agent and lasts pretty well for an hour or two.

Bad things about lidocaine: you cannot get oral grade lidocaine without added mint flavoring.

I happen to be EXTREMELY sensitive to mint. Like I still can’t handle breath mints or mouthwash, and used bubblegum flavored toothpaste until I was 14 and found a brand with half as much mint flavoring as is typical. Even if you’re not, mint has no business being anywhere near genital tissue. Even on an average person that could cause awful burning. to make a long saga shorter I had a very frustrating back-and-forth with urgent care involving many rerouted phone trees, visit in person, unhelpful receptionists, and attempts to find over-the-counter alternatives. All were fruitless so I just suffered all weekend until the urgent care Nurse Practitioner called me back on Monday and was suitably apologetic/outraged about the mint thing, and looked up every OTC product that might work as a substitute, since she couldn’t find any prescription level without mint. On Tuesday she called back again having found this:

It’s 4%, so just below prescription strength, while not oral grade, it’s actually fine for soft tissues as long as not fully ingested/internally applied. And most importantly, ABSOLUTELY NO ADDED FLAVORINGS. there is also a spray version that comes in a bottle, which under no circumstances should you try because it uses alcohol as a propellant and I had a very bad 5 minutes after testing that one. But the cream one is fine and brings blessed numbness in around 5 minutes with only minimal contact pain--they are still open wounds after all.

I use this for the next 7 days. By this point the sores have gotten worse and larger, and then started to heal and shrink again. Mouth canker sores go through a similar ~2 week process, so this is about what I expected.

Finally the results of my bloodwork came back, and I was negative for all STIs. The NP was dumbfounded and apologized, and agreed to look up more information/treatment options for cases like this in the future. I’m not surprised her reaction was to assume herpes as it IS very common, but I’m sure other women experience NSGU’s and receive improper treatment. If you look them up, they’re even mentioned as being predominantly a problem for “young or prepubescent women” which, reading between the lines--it’s not that these become less likely if you’re older or sexually active. Doctors just make assumptions and don’t always look past the easy answers.

So if you or someone you know ends up with these--from the Covid vaccine or as a complication of upper respiratory infections in general (as they ARE an immune response and can just Happen to you)--here is what works as treatment. If you can see a doctor you trust, still do that. But if they don’t listen or if for some reason you can’t seek treatment, here is the course of action I recommend:

Pick up that over-the-counter Pain Relief+Lidocaine NON MINTY numbing cream ASAP. Sores go from “annoying” to “excruciating” in only 3 days, so it’s best to get in person or with rush shipping. Sit in front of a mirror and gently apply with a q-tip, and wait 5 minutes for the medicine to take effect.

Pat gently dry with toilet paper, don’t make wiping motions. If you don’t feel clean enough, pat more with a wet washcloth and rinse it out, or hope in the shoer for 5 min just to rinse.

There may be pus or reside from the ointment that doesn’t go away with just rinsing. Every 2 days I made a half-strength bath of epsom salts, NUMBED FULLY, and then took a 10 minute bath to fully cleanse the area. the salt will sting terribly if you wait any longer, so I recommend standing and rinsing after this time.

The vulva is more exposed to air than the mouth. this may cause the sores to crack/bleed as they dry out. to avoid this, after using the restroom and cleaning yourself, you can apply a thick coating of Aquaphor on top of the sores. It will need to be rinsed off before you apply more numbing cream however, so if that is too many steps I recommend just using the Aquaphor overnight.

You may think its ok to get up in the middle of the night to pee without the numbing cream bc you have to go really bad and just once will be fine but it is NOT you will REGRET IT.

Unfortunately if you have sores on both sides you may develop what is known as “kissing sores”, aka sores directly opposite each other that touch when the area is not spread open. this means that after an extended period of time (overnight), the sores will try to heal into each other and opening the area back up painfully rips the tissue apart. INStEAD of ripping them apart, take a washclosh, run it under warm water, and do a hot/warm compress on the area. this will loosen the sores back up and separate them painlessly.

This is not exclusive to people with a vulva, they can also happen on scrotal/anal tissue. However it does seem to much more frequently affect people with typical XX sex organs.

If you develop these, PLEASE fill out an averse reaction form or your country’s equivalent. Also, I’m so sorry and if you need emotional support or have questions please feel free to get in touch.

Most likely, these will not happen to you--the vast majority of vaccinated people have not had this as a side effect. But it IS popping up more and more, and it is good to know about it in advance so you can be prepared to deal with and treat it without as much anxiety and all the hoops I had to jump through to get good care. Overall I’m still glad to be vaccinated, but if I had known this was a side effect, as someone already prone to canker sores I would have waited to vaccinate until my car was fixed a week later a the very least :|

#covid #covid vaccine #averse vaccine reaction #nsgu #ive got my finger on the block button for whatever pornbots this post activates do not try me #anyway #gross warning sorry :( if u dont want to know about my tmi personal health dont read this one #ramblings #wharglbargle #i dont wish these on anyone i cant describe what an awful experience this all was #tried to be more humerous bout it in the post but i cried p much nonstop at urgent care and many of the days after #long post #plagueblogging #still better than getting covid and dying tho so

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theladyskull · 3 years ago

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Horizon original character

Faceclaim: unknown model

Name: Delya Griffin

Age: 24

Hair: light blonde, shoulder length

Eyes: blue

Height: 165 cm/5'4

Build: toned muscular

Family: Parents and a little sister named Elsa (deceased)

Alies: Aloy, Erend, King Avad. Neutral with all the other tribes.

Tribe: lived in the old world, slept for over 900 years, slightly part of the carja tribe.

Nickname: Due to her driven nature, she can come across as hot-tempered dealing with people who think she's just a small useless girl. Many of the Carja and Oseram men call her Spitfire and want to break her fiery soul.

History: Delya is a multifaceted woman, from having overtly physical hobbies like: rock-climbing, martial arts and interpretive dance to being an expert in computer programming, engineering and problem-solving. She is very goal oriented and is driven to get the job done. Hence why she got picked for the Horizon Zero Dawn project and didn't walk away from it. While she started in only the delta branch, she was quickly noticed by her peers and got transferred to the Alpha prime facility. There Elisabet Sobeck took her under her wing in secret for a special project. The Omega clearance was given to her, making a program undetected within Gaia that could give one person a cryo sleep pod far, far beneath the surface in case Gaia encountered programming issues.

Just before the failure of the sealed doors, Elisabet send Delya to the sleeping pod chamber through a hyper speed pod track deep underneath the ground, leading to the sleeping pod chamber. There under the guidance of Gaia's inner function named HYPNOS, entered the cryo sleep pod unaware of the events in the Gaia prime facility.

Plot points:

Wakes up after the events of Aloy purging HADES

HYPNOS signal leads Aloy and Erend to the sleeping pod chamber

The waking up procedure has some complications and she is brought to King Avads Castle for recovery under a lie.

Learns the truth about the Gaia prime facility, the other alphas, Gaia, hades and the machines.

Goes on a few adventures with Aloy while trying to adapt to this new world.

Goes on more adventures with Erend and grows closer to him.

Falls in love with him, but Erend being still infatuated with Aloy and him being oblivious, makes for awkward situations.

Erend finally notices her and has to fight with Aloy and other guards a group of mercenaries that are after Delya who doesn't know this.

While Delya is waiting for a kind of date with Erend but doesn't show up. (She waits all night till morning cause the other guards won't let her leave). In the morning she sneaks away, traveling to the place where they were working and gets ambushed.

Aloy, Erend and the other guards fight the mercenaries but can't prevent one from grabbing Delya and sliding a knife across her throat. They kill him immediately, but are to shocked to check if Delya is alive.

They leave the cave, Delya still alive, leaving through another exit and hearing that Erend doesn't care if she is alive or dead, unaware that he doesn't want the other guards to know, he's heart broken.

She travels back to Hypnos, heals herself and leaves for a journey beyond Carja territory.

During her journey, she loses her left arm and foot, gets rescued by a group that makes workable prosthetic's and teaches them a lot about the old world.

After 2 years she returns to Carja territory, saves Erend and a group of merchants of a crazed Thunderjaw by luck.

She continues her work, while Erend and her have this awkward tension that neither of them will acknowledge and rectify.

Delya's friends come to help her, including their leader who is a hulking dude who has his sets on Delya making his.

Delya rejects him, causing him to lash out and wound Delya in the process. Erend jumps in to her rescue but gets the full force of his attacks, causing him nearly to die, until Delya swings Erend's hammer against his face and he dies.

Delya brings Erend with much effort to Hypnos who heals him during the span of 3 days. After he is healed, he leaves without saying a word and doesn't visit or say anything to Delya.

After a ruse of hypnos, he returns thinking Delya want to kill herself and wants to stop her. He confesses he loves her, she confesses too and they make up.

Few months later Gaia is restored, Apollo is returned and all is well.

Possible plot points after this

A clan leader of the Oseram claims Delya as his wife, as she inadvertently promised herself to him while she traveled through the claim years ago.

Erend and Delya have been together for 2 years.

Both of them fight his claim but are unaware of each other desire to marry each other.

A hand to hand combat is proposed and even Delya is opposed to such a outdated concept, nothing can be stopped.

When Erend loses and Delya has to stop the fight in order to stop Erend from being killed, she accepts his claim.

When the topic of children comes up and she realizes she can't produce offspring, she tries to tell Erend before she can publicly tell everyone else, but fails after every turn.

At the wedding, she has to tell everyone that she is barren and is unable to have children. The clan leader refuses her as his wife, while Erend asks her to marry her.

They marry and Erend is convinced that Delya being unable to have children was a lie. After 2 months of being happy again, she reveals it wasn't a lie, crushing his heart.

Erend accepts a quest of King Avad that has him leave Carja territory for a long time without Delya knowing.

Before Erend leaves it takes a few weeks and within those weeks, Delya gets a big surprise when Gaia tells her she is pregnant. Delya tries multiple times to tell Erend this news but he is still mad at her, so cuts her off every chance she gets.

When Erend leaves and she finds out that she won't see him for a long time, she travels after him and catches their convoy just in time.

Even though he's ecstatic about the news, he still leaves with the convoy, promising he would be back before she gives birth.

This doesn't come to pass and after 1,5 years of Erend not being home, she fears the worst. Sadly the clan leader hears about her children (twins, a girl and a boy) and Erend not being there, he kidnaps the three of them and takes them to his clan.

Delya is poorly mistreated but does everything she can to give her kids everything they need which results in her getting malnourished and having to deal with beatings whenever her kids cry.

Eventually Erend returns months after Delya's disappearance and is horrified that no one knows where she is. With the help of Aloy who herself had just returned from a year old trip, it takes them back into the Claim and finding her with her children.

Just a glimpse of Erend and Aloy, she finds new strength within her and kills the clan leader with a knife straight to the heart when he tries to lay with her.

When Erend and Aloy barge into the clan leaders House, they are surprised to see her having killed the clan leader. Erend and Delya reunite, where Delya passes out in Erend's arms, totally exhausted.

Erend and Aloy bringing Delya and the kids back to Carja territory, to King Avad's castle in fear of retaliation of the clan.

The retaliation doesn't happen, instead an older clansman comes and thanks them, expressing regret of not helping Delya with her struggles.

Delya gets nursed back to health and reveals that their kids are named: Erso and Elsa, in memory of Erend's sister and her own.

#Horizon zero dawn #hzd #horizon forbidden west #hfw #erend #erend vanguardsman #aloy #carja #nora #elisabet sobeck #gaia #alpha prime #alpha prime facility #oc #myoc #original character #delya griffin #delyaxerend #mychar

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elatedmarvel · 4 years ago

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Arms

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Bucky learns to accept all parts of himself, even the vibranium parts.

Word Count: 5,353

A/N: This is the longest one shot I’ve ever written, and it took me like a month. (I’m very slow lol). In keeping with BLM and inclusion, please let me know if you feel the reader is described a certain way that is not encompassing of all. I’ve tried my best, but I’m only human and editing is hard. Hope you enjoy!

He remembers when he first woke up with it.

He could have sworn that he was dead, and he was in hell. All he could feel was pain everywhere, but specifically in his left arm. Pain he had never felt before and now he thinks he’ll feel forever. His parents always joked him that he would go to hell if he didn’t stop flirting with every skirt he saw, and now he wishes he could tell them they were right.

Voices float above him, but he can’t make out what they’re saying, everything sounds garbled and distorted to his ears.

It takes a moment for him to realize that the men are speaking in a different language.

Blinding white lights greet him as he opens his eyes and squints against the harshness. Silhouettes of shapes is all his brain can comprehend, and he blinks a few more times before he is able to actually see.

The dingy room has seen better days. The walls are lined with tile, with mildew and mold in between them. It’s dark everywhere else, except the bright light that shines down on him.

It’s hard for him to move his head side to side, let alone move the rest of his body, but he tries to wiggle his toes and fingers.

A metal appendage lays at his left side.

He stares at the foreign object, trying to make sense of the fact that he can feel his left arm, but what he sees is not the limb he remembers.

His brain commands him to lift it, to see if this was real. When it not only moves where he wanted, but he can see his fingers wiggling, he realizes that this is worse than hell.

He runs his right hand up the entire metal limb, and he can feel the dull sensation. His panic increases the higher he can feel metal. He gets to the edge of his chest before he feels flesh and bone again.

Gasping, he claws at where the foreign object meets his chest, trying to get it off of him. The more awake he becomes, the more pain radiates from the arm, like his body was rejecting it.

His sudden movements and noises of pain alert the men in white coats around him. He’s sure his eyes are frantic; he must look like a caged and frightened animal.

They rush to him, trying to undo the damage he has clawed in.

When they get close enough, he grabs them both by the neck, trying to protect himself. This only causes them to start shouting and the doors burst open.

It’s hard for him to process what is happening, all he feels is adrenaline pumping through his body, and it reacts accordingly.

He can feel the pop of the bones before he hears the sickening crunch. If he was more aware of what was happening, he’s sure he would have thrown up.

The man he grabbed with his left hand falls to the floor in a heap, unmoving.

In all his time serving with the howling commandos, he’s killed a few people, but never as intimately. He could just pull a trigger, throw a grenade, or stab someone. He’s never had to look them in the eye, and feel the life drain out of him.

Sweat and fear pour out of his pores now, he didn’t mean to. His hand moved faster than he could react.

Not his hand, the weapon attached to him now.

The shouting only gets louder around him, but it’s muffled now. He stares in horror at the metal fingers, and the lifeless body on the floor.

He can’t even feel when they prick him with a syringe filled with tranquilizer.

The image burns itself into his mind as everything grows dark.

The next 10-15 years follow the same pattern.

He wakes up slowly out of cryo. In his groggy state, he panics every time he sees the arm. He goes to claw at his chest where it is connected, but he’s eventually stopped when they realize he’s awake.

They try to break him.

Hydra does everything they can, any form of torture. But he’s strong. He resists every attempt, and finally they have had enough.

One day, they plop him in a metal chair and run currents through his skull.

It takes 2 more years of this before finally he stops scratching at the arm. Before he fully loses himself.

~~~

When he finally escapes from Hydra’s grip, he hates the arm with everything in him. He tries anything he can think of to remove it from his body, short of just cutting into himself more.

The arm only causes death and destruction. It is synonymous with Hydra and the evil he unwittingly committed.

He still remembers how they thought they bestowed a great gift upon him, making him into the fist of Hydra. They think they saved him, but they chipped away at his soul until there was barely anything left in him.

When Shuri was kind enough to erase the trigger words from his brain, she had offered him a new arm. One that was not tainted with the bloody memories of Hydra.

It took him months of therapy, and many long, late night talks with Steve, Natasha, and Sam to accept the arm. He wanted to repent for the blood he has spilled, intentional or not, and he couldn’t do it with one arm.

It was beautiful, gun metal grey with gold intertwining the plates. It reminded him of the exhibit that Steve had dragged him to at the Met.

Kintsugi, Steve had told him. The art of repairing something with gold.

“It was never broken to begin with, just being made whole and better” Steve had said to them as they wandered around. He pretended the tears in his eyes were from the dust in the museum, and lightly punched Steve on the arm.

~~~

You were in the ring with Sam.

Someone new, and that scared Bucky. He had slowly built a relationship with the rest of the team in the last few months he had been at the compound, and trust didn’t come easy. Countless nights he would be invited to movies, or dinner and drinks. He turned them all down the first few weeks he had been there. It wasn’t until Sam and Steve literally dragged him to the bar that he started to open up.

You somehow got along with everyone on the team, and had won everyone over in a matter of weeks. You geeked out over the newest electronics with Tony, and tried to help Bruce with his research. Wanda and you had holed up in a room for days binging the newest season of some reality show you loved. Natasha and you had survived multiple Barre classes, something that even made Sam cry. You and Steve had even started painting to Bob Ross videos together.

It was like there was a you-shaped gap waiting to be filled on the team.

He watches from his sparring dummy as you tease Sam. You dance around him easily, and dodge out the way of yet another unsuccessful punch.

His sensitive hearing picks up on Sam’s heavy breathing, but anyone could see the exacerbated rise and fall of his chest, and the buckets of sweat gleaming under the fluorescent lighting.

You laugh as he tries to distract you with a kick and punch from opposite sides.

“Nice try birdy” you call out as you evade him once more.

“Stay still!” Sam huffs, he hasn’t felt this out of shape since he was a chubby 13 year old with a love of cheetos and hate of exercise.

In his last effort to take you down, he swipes left and right, never giving up. You move further and further back, unsure how to handle the sudden change in tactics.

You don’t notice how close to the edge of the ring you are.

Tony, being the dramatic shit he was, decided to build the sparring ring higher up then normal. Like a pedestal he once proclaimed. He wanted all to be able to watch.

Sam and you had forgone putting up the side ropes, wanting to get in as much sparing as possible.

The fall was probably only a few feet of the ground, but definitely enough to sprain something, or even worse, get a concussion.

He sees you near the edge, Sam still swinging a way. His lust for revenge prevented him from seeing you were about to fall.

Bucky leaps the 10 feet in between him and you right as your foot falls off the edge. He reaches up and puts most of your weight on his left arm, catching you before you fell to the floor, holding you for a few seconds before slowly bringing you to floor level.

He sets you down gently and almost laughs at the comical expression on your face. Eyes wide and jaw dropped, unable to comprehend what had just happened in the span of a few seconds.

“I-I… thank you” you stuttered. Stilled flustered by the fall, but even more flustered that it was Bucky that caught you. You two had maybe exchanged 20 words total in the 2 months that you had been on the team.

Bucky does a once over at you before nodding and walking back to the sparring dummy.

Sam watches this all with amusement, before coming down and offering to buy you ice cream to make up for the fall.

~~~

Hit. Block. Punch. Duck. Repeat.

Watching you take down your opponents was like watching a ballet. You were graceful, and lithe. Moving with your counterpart, they never even realized you were a threat until they were out.

Since your fall a month ago, you and Bucky have been growing closer. It was hard not to when you were so light and bright. It blinded him slightly, before he grew accustomed to the warmth he felt when he was near you. Now he never wanted to be parted from it.

Naturally, when this mission had come up, Bucky had begged Steve to pair you with him. He knew he would only have peace of mind if he was with you at all times.

Not that you needed the help.

About a dozen men lay sprawled around you, and the last three were soon to join their colleagues on the floor. If they weren’t such vile men, he would almost feel bad for them. Being laid to waste by someone who didn’t look like she could hurt a fly.

He registers the movement about a second too late, his mouth won’t connect to his brain and shout what he wants it to. One of the men you had already taken down lifts his head and arm, he just sees a flash of silver in the man’s palm before he sprints the length of the room. Your back is to him, and you still have 1 more attacker to take down, he takes all of your attention.

It happens in a second. You take your final shot at the henchman and then you see Bucky running to you. You feel the warmth of him as he embraces you, pulling you forward. The momentum causes you to stumble and brings you both down, you on top of him.

The ping of the bullet is thundering in the echoing, concrete room. He barely even registers the feeling before pulling out his gun and shooting the attacker. Watching for a moment to make sure he was actually dead, he looks down at you.

“Bucky” you stutter out, and he can feel your slight tremors. The whiplash must be settling in and the adrenaline wearing off, not a fun combination.

He looks you up and down, and even though he knows he blocked the bullet with his vibranium arm, he can’t help the anxiety that rises in his chest. He doesn’t see anything wrong besides the bruises and small scratches.

Meeting your eyes, it instantly takes the breath out of him. The look of pure awe spread on your face, but he can feel the admiration that is in your eyes,

It takes everything to not close the 5 inch gap to your lips and see if they are as soft as he’s imagined.

“You ok?” he asks one more time, voice cracking from the dryness in his throat.

You nod up at him, keeping eye contact.

Without a warning, you press your face into his neck and wrap your arms around him.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you” you say profusely. You move to sit on top of him in a flash and grab his left arm. He’s powerless underneath you as you examine the shiny appendage.

“Does it hurt?” you ask, wonder in your voice as your fingers graze the sides of his arms. He’s glad for the pain he endured when they fitted him with this new arm, he can feel the softness and warmth of your hands, almost like if it were his own flesh.

“No” he replies, eyes locked on where you hold his wrist.

Gently, so gently he can barely feel it, you press a kiss to the slight dent where the bullet impacted. Now he swears he’s died and gone to heaven.

There’s a lingering heat where your lips touched, maybe even burning.

If his mouth was dry before, it’s now the desert, and he clears his throat before looking away. His face is hot, and he’s thankful for the dim lighting in the basement.

He misses the sly smirk on your face before you get up and offer your hand to him.

~~~

After the mission, you had gone with him to get his arm repaired. He tried to tell you that it would take a few minutes at most and you didn’t need to go with him, but you just smiled and led the way. You held his flesh hand while they fixed some wiring issues and un-dented the hand. If he squeezes your hand more often than necessary, then who would know?

One month passes and he is always at your side. He goes more often to movie nights, team dinners, and outings. There’s always a spot right by your side, and it takes only a few days for everyone to know it was reserved for a certain brunette.

The second month rolls around and it finds him as your permanent partner. Missions for two would always be assigned to you and him. You two would spar for hours on end, touches lingering for longer than needed. If you needed to run errands, he would be right there with you.

Month three passes in a loving haze. It’s rare to see one of you without the other. Even nights were spent in your room after you had both fallen asleep while watching Star Wars. You made him come with you to your yoga classes, and he made you go with him to cooking classes.

It’s like the sun had finally come out. The permanent scowl and dark circles were replaced with grins and smile lines. He can’t remember the last time he was as carefree as he was around you.

It was hard to ask you out. He was nervous. What if he misread the hand holding and cuddling? Could he go back to being just your friend if it didn’t work out?

But the moment he saw you across the gym, sweaty and heaving but with a giant grin on your face as you box with Steve, he knew it would be worth it.

So here he was, your favorite flowers in hand, buttoned up shirt and nice jeans adorning his body, walking to your door to pick you up for your first date.

In the back of his mind, he mocks himself for being so scared to ask you. Your face had lit up when he had.

Knocking on the door, he steps away and gives himself a once over. He tells himself he’s not nervous, but the erratic beating of his heart tells a different tale.

The door opens, and there you are. A vision in your favorite dress, small smile on your face.

All he can do is stare dumbstruck at you. While you were always gorgeous to him, the fact that you had dressed up for him makes him want to cry.

“Bucky?” you ask, waving a hand in his face and giggling.

“You’re stunning” he says back, hand coming up to rub his neck. He suddenly

remembers the flowers when he feels the water drip on the collar of his shirt.

“These are for you” and the smile on your face grows. You take a big whiff of them

before sneezing 3 times in rapid succession.

“Guess I got carried away” you giggle, and just like that the nerves fade.

The drive to the restaurant he had reserved was filled with would you rathers that made you laugh so hard, you couldn’t breathe. Your impression of the stuffy waiter had him choking on his water.

Everything was going so well, he let his guard down.

The men in ski masks that came from the kitchen to round everyone up were a shock to both of you. Instantly, people scatter, some making it out of the door in time, and others being held hostage and led to the kitchen.

You can both tell when they realize they have avengers in their midsts when the guns turn to aim at you. He flips the table to its side as you move to duck behind it. Drawing a gun from your clutch, you hand it to him. Bucky was always the better shot. And you arm yourself with a widow bites and click the button on your Stark Watch 3 times in rapid succession.

He hears the panic in their voices as they radio to each other. Obviously, they were not expecting any resistance, let alone 2 highly trained agents.

You look at him, and he knows exactly what you have in mind.

The moment you leap sideways and engage, he pops over the table and aims at anyone with a gun. You move quickly and gracefully around those that were foolish enough to actually engage you. He takes down as many as possible with the gun, and when the clip runs out, he engages the targets closest to you.

Soon there is only 1 left, shaking and yelling at you both to back up. Bucky is pretty sure he’s new, the tremor in his voice and hands gives him away. It wouldn’t be that difficult to take him out.

Bucky joins your side, and you both approach hesitantly, not wanting to spook him.

“Stay back” he yells. Bucky sees the glint of green before the man fully pulls out the grenade. His heart sinks into his stomach.

“Don’t do anything you’ll regret.” Bucky states, already wedging himself between you and the man. He calculates if there was anyway to get you out of the building.

“Just stay calm, we’re not going to hurt you.” You say, laying the widow bites at your feet. Bucky does the same with his empty gun.

His wild eyes keep glancing between you and Bucky. He slowly tries to inch his way towards the man, hoping he makes it to the grenade before he throws it.

The stand-still comes to an end when the man pulls the pin and launches the grenade in the air.

“No!” Bucky shouts, and he pulls you both under the nearest table, his body covering yours. The deafening blast goes off right as you both get under the table.

He feels your fast breaths against his chest, and he pulls your head into the crook of his neck. Arms in a braced stance, supporting him as he tries to keep his weight off of yours. He’s pretty sure the table above them cracked with the weight of the rubble falling on it.

He looks down to your face and sees the fear in your eyes. It was one thing to be shot at, but another to be buried alive.

“It’s gonna be ok” he whispers, and you nod. You know that Bucky would do everything he could to get you both out. Forcing yourself to take calming breaths, you knew it wouldn’t help to panic right now.

Once he feels the dust settle, he braces himself against the broken table, trying to see if he could lift the ruble off of you both. There’s a groan as the concrete settles more firmly in place, but nothing lets up.

The Stark watch on your wrist vibrates, and though he can’t see the screen, he knows it means the Avengers are coming.

“Bucky” you say, voice trembling. It brings him back to the conversation you had about your biggest fears. Being buried alive was at the top of the list after falling into a pit when you were 7 years old.

“It’s going to be ok” he tries to reassure, but the fear in your eyes has him trying to break you out.

Slowly, he shifts his weight to his right arm, and braces the broken table with his left. Putting all his weight behind the vibranium arm, he pushes up. He’s not sure if the groans are from him or the concrete slabs, but he feels something pop and then shift above him.

Suddenly, the weight feels lighter and he can hear the concrete falling. Hope bursts in his chest as more light floods into the burrow and space starts to expand.

Moving his knees and feet, he gets into a crouched position to give himself more power as the rubble starts to fall away.

Your voice and encouragement gives him a surge of energy and he finds himself standing in the dusty opening of what used to be a restaurant.

“Y/n!” he calls as he moves back down and cradles you in his arms, lifting you on top of the pile of rubble.

“Bucky that was incredible!” you shout as he comes to join you and helps you down. Your arms come around his neck and before he knows it, he feels your lips against his. It takes a second for his brain to compute, and by the time he realizes that it was a kiss, you had already pulled away.

“Thank you!” you shout again with glee as he chuckles.

He tries to move in and capture your lips again, but the moment is ruined when a certain blonde super soldier clears his throat.

You both pull away, faces warm, to see the captain dragging to handcuffed criminals out of the wreckage.

“Glad to see you’re both alive.” Steve states smugly, shooting Bucky a not so subtle wink.

“It’s all thanks to Bucky and his amazing arm.” you tell him brightly, pressing a kiss to the vibranium bicep before jumping into to help apprehend the rest of the men.

Steve had never seen Bucky turn that shade of red before, and lets out a laugh as he escorted the men out of the restaurant and into the cars waiting outside.

~~~

You’re not sure what triggers it.

One moment you're laying on the couch with your head in Bucky’s lap, content and happy while watching a movie. You’re half awake, no idea what’s going on in the movie, instead paying attention to the way Bucky’s fingers glide through your hair.

It happens suddenly, and you jump up.

You pace for a moment, before breathing is hard, and the world starts to get blurry. A cold sweat breaks out all over your body and you swear you could throw up at any moment.

Lowering yourself onto the floor, you put your head between your legs and slowly start to rock. Blood rushes to your head, and all you can hear is the loud thumping of your erratic heart.

Everything is reduced to the few inches in front of your face, you almost don’t notice the cool hand on your forehead, pushing away hairs and trying to soothe you.

You focus on the cold hand moving from your head to the back of your neck, and then going down to stroke and pat your back, before starting the cycle all over again.

Bucky.

Slowly, you start to break through the surface.

It takes a few moments, but you start to hear his voice calling to you, and you want to follow the warm sound.

He moves your hand now to his chest, the gentle up and down continuing to bring you back, and it registers that he wants you to follow his breath pattern.

The first few are too shallow, the next few are too fast, but soon you match his calm in-and-out to a tee.

Your name, smooth and gentle in his voice, finally reaches your ears. You listen as he tells you how great you are at matching his breathing. He switches between compliments, random, one sided small talk, and humming.

The heat from his embrace and the coolness from his left arm creates a cocoon of warmth and safety, making you lose sense of time. The cramping from your legs is the only indicator that a significant amount of time has passed.

Sluggishly, you lift your head from Bucky’s chest and look up at his face. Intense blue eyes stare back at you, it’s not hard to tell that he’s trying to stay calm, but the slight worry in his eyes wasn’t hard to pick up on.

Laying your head back on his chest, you feel his arms start to slide under you. Soon enough, you’re lifted up and he’s walking to what you assume would be your room.

You close your eyes, when he doesn’t take the right to go down to your room, but continues straight into his wing.

“Thanks Bucky” you mumble as he sets you on his bed and gets in himself.

Face to face, you use your finger to trace the slope of his nose and the edge of his jaw before bringing your finger to outline his lips.

Pressing a small kiss to the tip of your finger, he smiles before leaning in kissing your forehead.

“I love you, doll.”

“Love you too.”

~~~

He can feel the drool on his face as he comes too. His face squished into the pillow underneath him, so hard, he’s sure he’ll have indents in his face.

One arm slung around a sleeping you, he breathes in, slowly waking up. Moving his arms, he can feel the soreness that settles in after a good night's sleep.

A small sniffle from the nightstand catches his attention, and he realizes why he woke up.

Gently, he crawls out of bed, and tucks in the remaining comforter around you, and grabs the device from the nightstand. He hopes you can get a little extra sleep, he’s pretty sure he fell asleep long before you got into bed.

Bare feet meet carpet as he paddles down the hallway, a short walk to his destination. He waits outside of the door for a moment, listening for movement in the room. When he hears shuffling, and another small screech, he opens the door.

Against the adjacent lilac wall, a white crib is placed. A sleep dischevaled baby stands, clinging to the bars, blowing spit bubbles and babbling to herself.

As soon as she sees Bucky, her arms extend towards him and makes whining noises.

“Hey baby” he chuckles as he steps fully into the room, and picks her up, nervous that she’ll start screaming if he doesn’t.

“How did you sleep?” he asks, patting her back, and checking to see if she needed a diaper change.

The raspberry she blows answers the question.

Gently and efficiently, he sets about changing her diaper, talking to her all the while.

When he sets her upright to try and find a new outfit, preferably one that doesn’t have stains but the options are slim, she squeals again.

Quickly, he picks her up and sways her against his chest.

“Shh shhh shhh, don’t wake up mommy, you kept her up half the night.” Bucky implores. She tilts her head up at the sound of his voice, her eyes slightly wet and he knows she can’t help it.

Rebecca was a good baby, usually did not fuss, ate like a champ, and slept well. But lately, she had been colickly.

It had panicked Bucky at first, thinking she was sick or he was doing something wrong. You had quelled his fears by showing him the small bump on her gums, signalling that she was teething.

Switching his right arm for her support, he brings a vibranium finger up to her mouth. Immediately, she latches on to the finger.

He can feel the nubs of teeth about to break through the surface, and lets her chew on his cool finger for relief.

It had started as a joke one day when the teething ring had melted and Becca still wouldn’t stop crying. In your half groggy state, you had stuck one of Bucky’s vibranium fingers in her mouth to let her chew on while you grabbed something else, he couldn’t quite feel the pain the same way his flesh fingers could. But, once Bucky’s finger was in her mouth, Becca happily chewed on it until she fell asleep.

It was well known now that wherever Bucky was, Becca followed, gnawing on his fingers.

“Does that feel better Becca?” she couldn’t even spare a second to look at her father, too busy drooling all over his hand.

With Becca in tow, he sits down in the rocking chair, hoping that he could get her to fall back asleep.

Holding her close, he hums some forget tune and rubs her back, moving them back and forth slightly.

The rigid dark grey was such a contrast to the soft baby skin around it, it startles Bucky sometimes.

The same arm that killed people and caused so much destruction was the same arm that his baby daughter used as a teething toy. She would never fear it, or see it as anything other than a part of him.

He’s unfamiliar with the emotion that bubbles up in his chest and the tears that build up. Sniffling himself, he presses a kiss to her downy soft head, and cradles her underneath his chin.

“You know, if it hurts that much, you can take it out of her mouth.” you say, startling him slightly.

Padding into the room, you perch yourself on the armrest of the rocking chair and tuck your feet under his legs. You reach a head out to caress Becca’s perfect cheek, brushing away a few tears with your thumb, as her eyelids start to droop.

“What are you doing up?” Bucky’s gravely voice cuts through the silence a few moments later.

“I had a feeling you were getting sappy with her again” you tease. There hasn’t been a day that’s gone by without Bucky marveling or crying about Becky in the short 7 months of her life.

“I can’t help it, she’s perfect.” he whispers back, getting choked up again.

“Oh babe” you coo at him. Dropping to sit in his lap, you place your head on his chest, just above Becca, and wrap your arms around him.

He sits there for a while longer, slowly rocking back and forth. Every once in a while, Becca will snuffle and snore in her sleep and you both chuckle at the cute noises.

Sitting there, arms wrapped around the loves of his life, he feels calm.

He can feel your breathing start to even out as you follow Becca’s lead to slumber.

It still amazes him how much you both trust him. Never looked at the thing that made him a killer with anything but love, and never treated him with any differently.

There will always be scars, physical and emotional, but slowly falling asleep in his baby daughter's room, he knows everything will be ok. He’s not afraid anymore.

~~~

Thank you for reading! Feedback is always welcome!

#Bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes x you #bucky x tony #bucky barnes fluff #bucky fluff

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varyen · 4 years ago

Text

as heavy as the snow falls (i fall for you)

„Hello Detective. I am Connor, the Android sent by CyberLife.“ The android sent to replace me, you think but it’s not what you say. Instead, you look up from your $1 instant noodles, and freeze. Oh god, you think. Oh god, fuck. They made it CUTE.

Chapter One; It's just another day to pretend (I’m feeling okay)

Hank had warned you.

“They sent one of those plastic pricks to help investigate that deviant shit”, he had told you.

You just thought he was messing with you, a good old joke to welcome you back. That was until you were officially allowed to get back to work;

you had annoyed your doctor into releasing you from sick-leave and partly got what you wanted — except that you were stuck on desk-duty. But that was better than being stuck at home. You never thought you’d be sick of your apartment walls but there you were.

After almost two and a half months, you finally walked back into the precinct.

Gavin was the first one to give that face — an ugly smirk, splitting open his mouth and showing his teeth, like a warning, like a threat. He didn’t say anything — he didn’t have to. That smirk alone, creepy enough to give you goose bumps, told you everything you need to know.

Hank didn’t mess with you. They sent an Android to replace you in your own investigation.

“Glad to see you’re back”, Gavin greeted you, though, and you forced a smile at your desk-partner. “Were you getting bored without me?”, you asked and tried to forget the obnoxious smirk he had thrown at you just a second ago. “You know me, baby”, he laughed and slapped on your shoulder. He disappeared behind you and you were left unguarded without any distraction. Everybody was staring at you and you weren’t sure if those looks were painted in relief or pity.

Silently you sat down at your desk, towers of paper stacked everywhere, and started to work. A few of your colleagues stopped by, asking how you were doing, being shot multiple times and all, and that they were happy you were back safe and sound – they didn’t say anything about Hank, or the Android. Their eyes, though, their eyes betrayed them.

Fowler called you in an hour later or so, asking how you do — not that he’d really care, anyway — before sending you back to work. He didn’t say a word about Hank, or the Android. His eyes did.

Nothing has happened since.

Now, it’s almost one pm and desk duty is more boring that you anticipated — so boring, in fact, that you decide to take your break. Usually Gavin and you keep each other entertained and airdrop each other memes out of the nowhere but he’s nowhere to be seen. Also, you’re hungry as shit, as you skipped the breakfast this morning. Not only because you overslept but you’re also not really a breakfast person.

There is no sign of Hank or that infamous Android so you decide to shrug it off and bury your concerns under the $1 instant noodles you got stored in the lowest drawer of your desk; your emergency food and snack box, as you like to call it. Sometimes Gavin raids it when he feels like it but he has kept his promise about not telling anyone about your emergency food and snack box — so far.

And while it’s generally not too bad to have him right in front of you most of the time, he’s the person you want to avoid the most because, honestly, you don’t need his mockery and you are not in the mood to endure that stupid smirk one more time. There is a possibility that you just try to punch it off his face.

He did leave the precinct when you entered it, so he’s probably off at some crime-scene.

You glance towards the empty Break Room and see your chance. You take one of the spicy chicken instant noodles, your all-time favorite, and speed as fast into the Break Room as your body allows you to; it’s still heavy sometimes and your movements are slowed by pain and stiffness.

Nobody disturbs you while you prepare the kettle and get a can of coke out of the fridge. The only sound remarkable to you is the news channel and by now the threat of a war outbreak has become too old to still be shocking.

You take your phone and skip through your messages, ignoring most of them except the ones from your mom to which you reply yes mom, work is going great so far. I’m stuck at desk-duty until my doctor gives me the green light, before you switch to your social media.

Caught up in some memes, you only notice Hank when he’s standing right in front of you.

“Listen kid”, he says, shrugging. “I didn’t ask for this either.” His voice sounds grumpy and unhappy and he looks like he just got out of bed which wouldn’t be a surprise, actually, and he still reeks a bit of beer.

And with that said, he leaves you alone again and you stay behind, slightly dumbfounded and just unnecessarily more confused than you already are. Why do they all behave like you’re already fired because some stupid robot took your cases?! Fuck them. As if there isn’t enough shit going on in Detroit. You could go back to work on the Red Ice cases with Gavin; Red Ice cases have everything you want – adrenalin, excitement, relentless pursuits, the subtle threat of danger and you get to bust high wanted criminals. The only thing that makes you avoid Gavin’s Red Ice cases is, in fact, Gavin himself.

It’s not like you don’t like Gavin; he is your desk-partner so you’re kind of forced to like him and you know you can count on him, he did save your life after all, and you like discussing the latest gossip with him — nobody would ever think that he is such a gossip bitch — and not only did he message you multiple times during the last weeks to make sure you’re good, he also stayed in the hospital until you woke up.

It’s just … It’s Reed, he’s a dickhead most of the time, and is only relaxed after he got laid or had at least 3.5 beers.

“The fuck’s going on”, you mutter under your breath. You’re annoyed and by now a thick, gray thunder cloud has formed over your head. Frustrated you stare into the still half-filled cup in front of you; that’s a very you thing to do – looking for answers in ramen soup.

„Hello Detective. I am Connor, the Android sent by CyberLife.“

The android sent to replace me, you think but it’s not what you say. Instead, you look up from your $1 instant noodles, and freeze.

Oh god, you think. Oh god, fuck. They made it CUTE.

For a moment, all you can do is stare at the Android in front of you; his innocent, deep eyes with just the right amount of honesty and the sparkle for fair justice within them, the faint freckles on his nose and the friendly, but still kind of forced smile on his lips — it looks a smile you’d give to Gavin sometimes. His LED blinks yellow for a second and you realize that that son of a bitch scanned you; you bite down a sneaky comment on how rude that is — he probably doesn’t know any better, you decide and you swallow the mean comment down before it can escape your mouth.

“Hi, Connor”, you manage to blur out instead. “You probably heard of me.” As you took all my open cases, thank you very much.

“Yes, I have. I am sorry to hear that you were fatally shot eleven weeks and three days ago. I am glad to see you recovered.” He smiles that forced smile again — seriously, where the hell did he pick that one up?! — and you raise your eyebrows at the weirdly accurate time span. “You are the Detective to have worked on the cases concerning Deviants before, correct?”

You take the still half-filled cup of instant noodles and throw them away, suddenly not hungry anymore.

“Correct”, you reply. “That was before I was shot. Seems like Hank and you took these cases.”

His LED flickers again, probably analyzing the darker tone hidden in your friendly voice and it seems like he wants to say something but Gavin interrupts him. “Seems like you have met your replacement, he?!”, he laughs in your face and slaps Connor hard on the back, way harder than necessary, and the Android is forced to move a step forwards.

“Fuck off Reed”, you mutter. You are absolutely not in the mood for his games. He laughs and the sound rings in your ears in an almost obnoxious way.

“I must correct you, Detective Reed. I am not anyone’s replacement”, Connor says, his voice neutral and even, like the voice of an Android is supposed to be. “Sure, you plastic fucker”, Gavin snorts. “Just stay the fuck away from me, got it?” — “For heaven’s sake, Gavin, leave it alone”, you sigh and shake your head. “It ain’t do anything to you personally. Take your issues out on someone else.”

Gavin throws a dark glare at you, one that says he’d wished you got shot with one more bullet, before releasing Connor from his hard grip and leaving the Break Room, cursing under his breath.

“Don’t mind him”, you say to Connor, shaking your head. “He likes to provoke.”

Connor tilts his head to the side. “Most humans are uncomfortable in the presence of Androids. Just as you, Detective.”

You cough. “Gavin isn’t uncomfortable, he’s just an asshole.”

You decide to ignore what he said about you — he’s partly right —but only partly, though you don’t feel like emphasizing this right now.

You yourself never had an Android, and you never saw why anyone would need one — that was until your parents had that car accident, your father died and your mother was left paralyzed and with only one arm. It was either giving up the job you love so much and not being able to afford literally anything, or getting an Android who would take care of her. You went for the latter option and it’s not like you regret it; the Android they recommend you at the CyberLife store is actually pretty sweet and sends you regular updates about your mother whenever she herself can’t find the strength to check on you. When you got shot and were in the hospital, it was the first time you felt truly thankful having that Android around — an AP something model, you don’t know jack shit about it. Your mother named her Hope. Thinking about it hurts you only a little.

You throw yourself back into reality and realize you have been just staring at Connor the past minute or so. You cough again, now being uncomfortable, and try to keep the red flash on your cheeks hidden.

“Do you already have a desk, Connor?”, you ask, changing the topic without even trying to be subtle.

“Yes, I use the one in front of Lieutenant Anderson.”

You stare over to Hank who is watching you with a certain glow in his eyes. “Of course”, you say, looking away from Hank and back at Connor. “Look”, you start, and shrug, “I’m on desk-duty for the next few weeks and officially off the cases anyway. They’re all yours, so I’ll transfer you all I have, evidence and personal notes I made. Maybe you’re luckier than me.” You shrug and leave the Break Room, leaving that Android, Connor, behind.

Obviously you are not happy to give up your open cases — you did work hard on them and all the evidence you collected wasn’t exactly easy to gather. Deviancy is a fresh and new thing and you were excited to be the Detective to figure it out. Then you got shot by some asshole because you grew too confident and thought you could take them on your own. You almost had to pay with your life for your cockiness, so maybe it’s better this way, you suppose.

Gavin doesn’t say anything to you when you sit down at your desk and stare blankly at the screen for a moment, not knowing what you’re supposed to do. Most paperwork is done and all your open cases have been reassigned. Seems like you’ll go back to investigate robberies.

You sigh deeply and send all the files and evidence you got saved on your terminal over to Hank before leaning back in your chair.

“Sorry for snapping at you earlier, Gav”, you say to Gavin who just rumbles something under his breath without looking at you. Without thinking about it, you open your emergency food and snack box, take the package of garlic bread and throw it at Gavin.

“Why don’t you have a piece of bread and maybe you’ll come down”, you laugh at him and now you at least get an annoyed grin. “Fuck you”, he says and you laugh.

“Hey”, he says then, “Tina told me about a series of robberies downtown. You should take those cases. It ain’t nothing too wild and it might get you back in shape.” He rips open the package.

You stare at him for a few seconds before realizing that you are indeed back on robberies. Great!

You sigh deeply.

“Sure”, is all you say and Gavin is smart enough to stay quiet, silently munching his garlic bread.

The excitement you felt this morning about going back to work has made room for nothing but frustration.

It’s eating you from the inside out, turns your lungs around and for a second you can feel the holes the bullets left in your body.

This week is starting great.

read on ao3.

#i am VERY much stuck in dbh hell again #cant blame me #detroit become meme #dbh #detroit become human fanfiction #detroit become human fanfic #detroit become human fic #dbh fanfic #dbh fic #dbh connor #connor rk800 #connor x reader #reader insert #my writing #hank anderson #hank detroit become human #gavin reed #gavin detroit become human

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bird-in-a-cage · 4 years ago

Text

Inspired by that prompt

012

It was August, 1986, when Billy was released. He didn’t have much. A bag of second hand clothes that had been donated to somewhere at some point, nothing of which had ever fit right or would have been anything he’d chosen to wear voluntarily. The keys to a basement apartment underneath a general store, two small windows up high near the ceiling the only natural light source. Basic furniture. Only enough to survive, nothing homely. A tracking bracelet around his ankle. A thick black box that weighed more than it looked, hidden by baggy jeans that were kept up by a belt he had to stab extra holes into.

It might have fit him properly last year. But that was last year.

He kept the letter they gave him pinned to the small refrigerator next to the sink. This apartment is owned by the US Government. You are not to leave Hawkins until we say you can under any circumstance. You are not to take off the tracking bracelet for any reason. You are to report in to the number below once every two weeks, same time and day. Failure to do these tasks will see you readmitted.

Neil’s abuse was fun in comparison to that possibility.

It had been a long year. The longest of Billy’s short life. A year of surgeries, rehabilitation, endless tests. Having his hair shaved off. Losing his muscle mass. Losing his tan. Being kept in rooms with no windows. Alone for weeks. Being stitched back together like a jigsaw puzzle made of skin. A sock with a hole in it. Being treated like an animal, an experiment. Being poked and prodded by miles of needles. Blood and plasma. Bone marrow. Lumbar punctures. Spinal fluid. Staring into bright lights for hours until he went temporarily blind. Patch worked with pads to listen to his brain. His heart. His lungs. His stomach. Every different face wearing the same masks, the same gowns, the same gloves. Never feeling anything real apart from pain.

Sometimes he still felt like a prisoner in his own body. What was left of it. What he didn’t recognise was his anymore. That thing still in his arm. In his head. Alone at night he would still hear it whisper. But it was different now. It had no power to control him. So Billy tried to ignore it. Just keep going somehow, this would get better eventually. If he did well in this test he’d be allowed a coke. If he did well in another he could sit next to a window. He could, and did, work his way out of the Building, away from being a lab rat directly.

He’d come out with 012 tattooed on his arm, just under the crook of his elbow. They must have done it when he was passed out at one point. Everything else about him had changed, it made sense there would be something new added as well in amongst the web of white scars that spanned his entire body. Thick like elm roots on his chest, the epicenter. Thin and fine on his arms and legs and the backs of his hands, a few up the back of his neck. He kept everything hidden under thick clothes. A donated Slazenger jacket became his best friend. Grey and waterproof. Sleeves that fell to his fingers. Old jeans that someone probably died in. Dirty white sneakers. Everything the opposite of who he was before. It felt right somehow. He wasn’t that person anymore. He’d never be that person again.

A government appointed talking person had advised Billy to take everything day by day. The world was very different from what was inside the Building and its grounds. The one tree outside to look at to guess what season it was. Doing too much at once would upset things. Getting drunk wasn’t an option. Getting high wasn’t an option. Working out wasn’t an option. Getting a job wasn’t an option. Walking was fine though, practically encouraged. Enough time had passed, there was a very low chance of being recognised. Legally he was dead. He should probably think of a new name for himself. The government would help with paperwork when he was deemed ready for phase three. It would pay for him to live, exist, in phase two.

Billy never saw her face. But she had a calm voice throughout. Hidden behind the two way mirror and through the phone that had no numbers to dial. No outside line. He liked to imagine she had green eyes. The closest thing he had to a friend, even though he never said more than yes or no in return.

It took two weeks before Billy went further than the store upstairs. Three weeks before he went more than two blocks. It was odd to feel a breeze again. Odd to feel a cold that didn’t come from within. Odd to feel hot from the sun. Odd to hear multiple voices and vehicles coming from everywhere. Odd to hear children. Odd to hear joy and laughter.

Odd not to hear beeping white boxes, the crinkle of sanitised plastic casings being unwrapped and opened. Hollow footsteps on a tiled floor. Count back from ten. Nine. Eight.

Hawkins didn’t look any different. It had the same amount of stop lights, stop signs. The same amount of parking spaces outside the diner and town hall. The same amount of benches in the park. The same playground equipment. The same graffiti under the slide. The same names scratched into the hard orange plastic, autographs of teenagers hiding out and getting high with their friends after dark. Billy thumbed over his own name. The night he and Harrington buried the hatchet over a joint and a half bottle of whiskey. Both hiding from home and wanting to just feel young and stupid again. Both tired of fighting.

That Billy had no idea what tiredness was.

Billy spent every day just walking. Retracing his steps over the whole town. Streets he used to drive down with abandon, screaming along to music or just screaming for the hell of it. Now he was ignoring how his lungs burnt when every step too far. Walking through pretty little neighbourhoods with white picket fences, perfect front yards. He felt like a ghost. No one looked at him twice. He really had died. There wasn’t a grave for him at the church. He didn’t expect there to be one, that required his family caring about him. They didn’t care before. Why would they care now he was the reason the fancy new mall ‘burnt down’?

The house was the same. At least from the outside on the other side of the street. 4819 Cherry Lane. The same broken steps. The same mailbox. The same windowed front porch. The same dead grass. The same dead trees. He could still be there but he couldn’t. Schrödinger’s Hargrove. A part of him wanted to go and knock on the door. Look through the windows. See what happened to his room. If any part of him and who he was still existed in those walls. The government wouldn’t like that though. He was dead. It was hard to accept it was better to stay dead. The box around his ankle felt heavier.

The centre of town was busier than the suburbs. Billy worked his way there last. Built up a tolerance for noise and engines and people over a few months. Step by step. Day by day. Getting used to being dead. Watched the stripmall from the other side of the parking lot. The auto repair shop he visited a lot for parts for his fallen camaro. God knows what they did with her. The arcade where he dropped Max off more than once. He tried not to think about her. About what could happen now he was gone. The broken great wall. He sat at the bus stop for a break. His lungs felt like they were about to tear open again. His chest was heavy and tight. Five minutes. Then he’d keep going. Keep carrying on.

Keep fighting.

A sharp scream dragged his head up from his sneaker laces. Two kids piled out of a BMW. A brown one that looked expensive. A shock of red hair that had been long but was now just short to shoulder length in a dramatic line. Jean shorts and a yellow t-shirt. A denim jacket. Billy’s denim jacket. The sleeves had been cut off. Someone had painted a skull smoking on the back panel. Probably the wearer herself. It wasn’t unlike Billy’s first tattoo. The one he used to have on his arm. The one they cut through and scars took over from both sides took over and removed.

Max. She’d screamed. But she didn’t look scared or worried or even sad. She was smiling from ear to ear. Sunglasses pushed into her hair. She looked taller. She’d screamed at a boy in a baseball hat. Billy vaguely recognised him from long ago, somewhere in the back of what was left of his old mind. He winced and made a show of fixing his ear with a finger. Probably complaining that Max was too loud. Billy had told her that before. When things were different. When he was different. When he was younger but old.

They both went to walk through the doors when the driver got out of the car. Harrington. Of course it was him. He looked exactly the same. Big mane of brunette hair effortlessly styled. Stupid mom jeans. He tossed forgotten backpacks at both of them. Sounded kind as he said he’d pick them both up in two hours so don’t be fucking around in there. He’d already been hat kid’s surrogate brother by all accounts, it looked like he just picked Max up too. Another lost duckling to add to his gaggle.

Watching them live out their lives made Billy feel even more in the ground. A part of him wanted to walk over, say hi, I’m not actually dead. But he knew that was a bad idea. The whole town had moved on by way of nothing changing. The mall had been brushed over. It was a building site now. All the people that Billy took, they had been forgotten too. Someone had planted a heather bush in the town square. She hadn’t been forgotten. But that was it. People just carried on. As if nothing ever happened. As if those people had never existed. As if Billy had never existed. Max clearly remembered him if her attire was anything to go by, but did anyone else? He didn’t expect to be remembered at all. But then he also wasn’t dead yet. But he was a memory now. Nothing more. Even though he was sat right there. The cold plastic of the bus stop bench sinking through his denim covered thighs.

Max smiled at Harrington. Really smiled. Said thanks and squeezed his arm before the two kids went inside, into all the noise and lights that even the thought of following made Billy panic. Not as much as fireworks did. Harrington yelled after them to not lose all their money and sunk back into his car. Watching it all was like watching tv. Billy couldn’t interact with any of it. His body wouldn’t let him. His mind wouldn’t let him. Stuck frozen on the bench. Stuck frozen in the past while the world moved on. Left him alone with his scars and memories and regrets and apologies to people who would never hear them.

He’d apologised to Max so many times in his head it wasn’t funny anymore. He had so many regrets they consumed him. Being alone for so long at the hands of the government, he longed to be out. To be given a second chance. He regretted not being nicer to Harrington. He was a good guy. Too good for this town. He regretted just not being an asshole to his sister. Wanted a chance to not treat her like some second class citizen. Their situation wasn’t her fault. He’d just been so blinded by rage and hate about things he couldn’t change he took it out on her. She didn’t deserve that.

It had just taken dying to truly realise it.

She needed someone to make sure she was okay, now stuck alone at Cherry Lane with no one to stop angry fists and hateful words. She had Harrington.

Harrington was better than Billy.

He watched the BMW drive away, the kids long inside. The scene resetting itself. Billy sighed shakily and got to his feet, rubbing over his chest where his heart ached behind inches of scar tissue inside and out. Starting to walk back to his basement.

It was better he was dead. Unmourned and forgotten. It's what he deserved.

#harringrove #if you squint #billy hargrove #steve harrington #stranger things #big sad #sorry not sorry #my writings

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