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spasmsofthought · 1 month

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still waters (scott forrester x f!reader)

Hi!! FBI International is one of my favorite shows and Scott Forrester has intrigued me from the start. I know this is a small fandom, but it's a show that brings me great joy. Something about episode 3x6 just really hit me and I ending up writing this. Please like, comment, & reblog! Enjoy!! xoxo

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"If this doesn't get better fast," You mutter just over your breath. "I'm going to end up punching someone."

There's not enough volume to your statement for Detective Novak to overhear, but it slips out just loud enough that Scott perks up and turns his gaze towards you as he walks by you on his way down the hallway. You barely succeed in covering the dark look you were about to throw the Czech officer.

He raises his eyebrows, "Do I need to send you out on a walk too?" His hand points in the direction Vo just went out of the local precinct, following his orders to cool off.

You can't help it. It's not as if you can shut your feelings off and just be analytical about this. Cameron may be running point on this case because of her own experience in helping assault survivors and her newly, and rightly earned, seniority on the Fly Team, but you have just as much stake in this developing case as her. There's a reason Scott made sure you were here with him and Vo and not with Raines or Garretson.

Detective Novak chooses to make her exit silently as she passes around you and Scott.

You breathe out a heavy exhale and hold his gaze for a moment, "No."

You lean back for support as cross your arms and bend one of your legs to put your foot against the wall and stare at the green paint across from you. Disassociating is better than letting tears cloud your vision. Anything is better than getting sucked into that black hole again.

Scott steps into your space instead of retreating, forcing you to place your foot on the ground and straighten your posture. He takes another step forward until there is very little space between the two of you.

"I know that you lead with your heart," His voice is just barely over a whisper and brushing against your cheeks. His focus on you is intense and all-consuming. "But right now, I need your head in this too."

"There's a reason I never completed my J.D.," You begin. His gaze doesn't waver. Scott is dialed in on you. You remember what your mother used to say to you as a girl, Still waters run deep, darling. You haven't even begun to reach the bottom of him yet. "I went with law enforcement because I know how easy it is for a girl like Ali to get lost in the red tape. I'm less frustrated with the fact that rape and assault laws are criminally behind here and more frustrated with the fact that I come from a country that doesn't hold the moral high ground. Change a few details and circumstances, and we're in the States on the same 'ole merry-go-round with the same kind of ending."

You take a breath. There's a moment of silence as Scott looks at you, somehow knowing that you aren't finished.

"And as much as you empathize, as much as you apply your knowledge from working cases like these for years, you will never 100% understand what it will mean for Ali when you go in there and tell her that her only two options are to either be arraigned for assault and kicked out of a country before she receives the justice she is owed or take down a social media post that is her only viable option for recourse right now."

You squeeze your eyes shut and bring your palms against your face for a moment. You feel Scott lean in. You push the tears back, but they linger just slightly.

When you open your eyes, his face is just centimeters away, "I get that this is our only move right now, but we're supposed to be pushing for better options now. We're supposed to be breaking ground, not just calling out the breaks in the pavement and watching someone else trip over them."

One of Scott's hands lightly brushes over your hair, trailing around your ear and then landing on your shoulder for a second. "I know."

He reaches down to squeeze your hand, "I know."

You breathe the same air for a solitary moment before you both know you need to move onto your responsibilities.

"I'll call Andre and Megan and update them." You nod at him, moving to step away, but he holds you against him for one heartbeat, two. Your breath catches.

"We'll talk next steps after I discuss with Ali."

"Okay."

"Okay," Scott says. His thumb brushes against the fabric of your trousers resting on your waist before he steps back and makes his way down the hallway to Ali's cell.

You give yourself a moment to breathe.

#fbi international #scott forrester #scott forrester x reader #scott forrester x you #scott forrester x oc #scott forrester x f!reader #scott forrester x female reader

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casspurrjoybell-17 · 9 days

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Hart and Hunter - Chapter 4- Part 1

*Warning Adult Content*

Dane Hunter

Latte in hand, Julian wanders off to browse, leaving me to deal with Ms. Wong.

I guess he figures the 'cop talk' is my shtick but sometimes I wish he'd stick around for it.

Women relate to him better.

He says most of them would rather talk to 'tall, dark and handsome' than 'pale and wispy' any day but experience says otherwise.

My height doesn't help and my neutral expression gets read as a scowl.

I try not to loom and do my best to appear 'non-threatening' as Stephanie frowns up at me.

"I'm afraid we didn't find much," I begin.

"This thief's no amateur. He knows how to leave a clean scene. Best get the police in here and let them do their thing."

Her expression pinches with disappointment and displeasure.

"So, you're telling me this has been a complete waste of time and now your prints are over everything, so the real cops won't find anything, either? Great. Jeffrey was right, we should have saved our money and invested in better security, instead of hiring the Hardy Boys."

"Who's Jeffrey?" I ask, ignoring the minor outburst.

No one's at their best after being victimized.

She winces and sighs, rubbing her brow.

"I'm sorry. I know you've done your best. Jeffrey owns the bike shop at the end of the block."

I nod and make a note of this.

Most of the shop owners had joined forces to hire us but there'd been a few holdouts.

If memory served, Jeffrey was the most vocal of these.

"If it's any consolation, the police won't dust for prints, anyway," I say, pocketing my notebook.

"They'll assume the thief wore gloves. They'll probably just take your statement and write up a report."

"How do you know that?" she asks, a hint of suspicion edging her tone, as if it's just occurred to her that I know an awful lot about burglaries.

I check my cell-phone, signaling that I'm done with her.

"Because I carried a badge once and cops don't waste resources or time. Just tell them what you told us and don't mention we were here first. If they ask..."

A soft thud interrupts me and I turn.

Julian is nowhere in sight.

"Jules?" I call, moving towards the spot I'd seen him last.

I round the corner of the aisle and see him sprawled on the floor.

"Shit. Julian?"

In two strides, I fall at his side and turn him over to look at his face.

His eyes are closed, features relaxed and his skin is paler than usual, stark white with a blue undertone.

He isn't breathing.

"Julian," I shout and shake him and then... just as fear is about to scatter my senses... my training kicks in.

The problem is, I don't know how much of my training applies.

I know what to do if someone faints, I'm less sure what to do if that someone is Fae.

Then again, Julian lived 29 years thinking he was human, his physiology can't be that different.

Quickly, I straighten his arms and legs and check that none of his clothing is too tight.

All the while, my mind races at full tilt.

I've seen him react badly to readings, but he's never passed out before.

Stephanie Wong hovers at my back.

"What happened?" she asks, panic edging her voice.

"Is he okay? Should I call 911?"

If Julian were human, it would be the right thing to do but he's not and some instinct tells me an ambulance isn't what he needs.

"Not yet," I tell her.

"Give him a minute."

"A minute for what?" she asks shrilly.

"Is he even breathing? I really think I should..."

Just wait," I say, and put a hint of Alpha in my tone.

She listens and hangs back while I work over Julian, rubbing his chest and arms and calling his name, all while praying I'm not making a terrible mistake.

Ten torturous seconds later, he stirs and draws a shallow breath and I nearly sob with relief as he comes around.

His eyelids flicker and open and he blinks up at me.

"Dane? What...?"

Wincing, he presses his hands to his eyes.

"Oh, fuck. My head."

"Take it easy, sweetheart," I say, gently prying one hand away from his face so I can take his pulse.

"What happened?"

"I dunno," he mumbles, keeping his eyes shut.

"I was just looking around. Then..."

Abruptly more alert, he struggles to rise and I help him to sit up.

"Slow and easy, Julian Take your time."

Still wincing with pain, he points at the wall.

"There's a mark... a rune of some kind. I touched it and... Shit."

He hunches over and rubs his temples.

"Feels like someone Tased me between the fucking eyes."

"Is it electrified?" Stephanie asks, studying the wall.

"I don't see any wires."

"I think he's confused," I say.

"Can you get him some water?"

She nods and scurries away.

Once she's out of earshot, I lean closer to Julian.

"Impressions?"

He shakes his head, keeping his eyes closed.

"No. Just a bright light and a bolt of pain."

I squeeze the back of his neck.

"Sometimes you take a while to process things, right? Maybe it'll make sense later. For now, put these on."

I take my dark glasses from my back pocket and slip them on his face, knowing he'll be sensitive to light.

"I'll get some pictures of the mark, then we'll split. Sound good?" I ask and Julian nods.

Stephanie returns with a bottle of water and hands it to him.

I get to my feet and inspect the wall, taking a series of pictures with my phone.

"Is this new?" I ask, studying the strange symbol.

It looks like a tall H with a double middle bar, drawn at a slant and two smaller lines coming off the side, all enclosed in a circle the size of a large coin.

Stephanie joins me, leaning close to peer at the mark.

"It wasn't here yesterday. I'm pretty sure I'd have noticed it."

"How sure is 'pretty sure?' " I ask.

"If you're certain, that means the thief may have left it."

She frowns.

"It definitely wasn't here on Monday. That's when I put out this table and lamp."

I pull my notebook out and record this information.

Stephanie seems observant enough I'm willing to take her at her word.

"Do you recognize it?" I nod at the mark.

"It's not Chinese, if that's what you're getting at. Not that I could read it if it was. You think it's connected to the burglary?"

I lift a shoulder.

"Could be. Point it out to the police, anyway. We'll be in touch if we learn anything more."

Returning to Julian, I help him to his feet.

"Come on, baby. Let's get you out of here."

He groans and leans against me and I kiss the side of his head.

We keep it strictly professional around clients but at the moment, I don't care what Stephanie sees.

I needn't have worried.

In fact, as it dawns on her that Julian is much more than my work partner, her demeanor warms considerably.

She holds the door for us and recommends I take Julian straight to 'Urgent Care' just to be safe.

It's not a bad idea but as I get him settled in my car, he brushes off my ministrations.

"Dane, stop fussing," he grumbles.

"I'm fine."

With his head leaned back and his eyes shut, I study him.

His delicate appearance and unusual beauty make people assume he's weak just because he doesn't fit the usual mold of masculinity.

I know better but I fall into that trap, too, sometimes.

I look at him and see something precious... something I need to guard and protect... instead of someone as fierce as any Wolf, in his own way.

At the moment, however, I feel my concern is justified.

"You're strong, Julian," I say, reaching over to press my hand to his brow.

"But you're also my mate and I love you. Let me fuss."

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athena-is-a-chaotic-lil-shit · 3 years

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Of Ice and Blood

Part 6

Part 6~ cuz I love y'all <3 don't forget to drink your vitamins and keep hydrated! Stay safe and healthy my loves :)

Word count: 3k+ words

Pairing: Tai'chi Kashharzol (Orc) x Pearl Blackbell (Human OC/Reader)

Warnings: None. (tis a fluff-filled chapter)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

* beware of little shifts in perspective from two characters, we will be jumping casually from their minds.

You caught the orc staring at you again, with a smile that made his tusks jut out more. "H-Hi!" you blurted out, waving.

As you began walking towards him, you found yourself losing balance, your legs giving out. You closed your eyes reflexively and expected to land face-first on the tiled floor.

Only you didn't.

You felt a strong arm around your waist and a large hand on your back, nearly covering the expanse of it. Instead of the floor, you found yourself smushed against something warm, and that thing, you figured out a second later, was Tai'chi's chest. You became flustered and felt your cheeks and ears redden. Your nose was practically inhaling his scent now, all that musky and rich smell of his making you light-headed. Stuttering, you pulled your head back.

"I-I-I— Ta-Tai'chi???"

Congratulations self, that was perfect, wow.

"Hm? Oh, uh, sorry. I acted on impulse when I saw you collapse." He said as the grip he had on you slackened and moved to hold your shoulder to support you in case you fall again, his other hand, though, remained in its place behind you.

"Don't w-worry about it. My legs just gave out, haha."

That came out awkwardly.

Damn, he is fast.

"Are you sure you're okay?" He asked, his words filled with genuine concern. Your ears were sporting a tinge of red, he noticed. Your scent also changed, signaling you were flustered.

"Ye-yep! We should uh, head back to class now. Oh! We haven't eaten anything for lunch." You said and as if on cue, your stomach grumbled to agree, followed by another grumble but louder, it wasn't yours but Tai'chi's.

The two of you laughed from the sounds they made.

"You're right. How about we go to the cafeteria first to grab something before we head back to our classroom?" He asked, smiling down at you.

"Great idea!" You agreed, a little too eager than you would've liked.

"We should get going then."

He straightened up and removed his hand from your shoulder when he was certain you wouldn't stumble again. Though, he let his hand on your back linger a bit longer even after you left the office.

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

The trip to the cafeteria was peaceful, minus the sounds of muffled talking coming from the rooms. Tai'chi was beside you as you walked down the halls, thankful that your legs found their strength again.

Arriving at the significantly less crowded canteen, both of you went ahead and ordered some food before finding a place to eat. Spotting a vacant one a few tables from the main entrance, you trudged to it, Tai'chi following close. You sat down and got a clearer look at his tray.

It was a lot, though you expected it to be. There were more vegetables than meat though.

"Not a fan of meat?"

He looked at you and laughed, echoing through the whole cafeteria, which resulted in some students glancing in your direction.

You were a bit taken aback, not expecting that sort of reaction from him.

"I'm sorry. I just- I don't know why I found it funny. I meant no offense."

"None taken."

"To answer you, I'm a huge fan of meat, red meat to be exact. This was the only portion that's left when I asked for more. And I'm still growing so I made up for the lack of meat with the vegetables. We orcs love a healthy and hearty meal."

What he said made you smile even more.

"What about you?" He glanced at your tray to see a portion almost similar to his albeit more assorted. This made him look back up and you, flabbergasted. "You can eat all of that?"

You looked down to inspect your food choice, and you instantly felt self-conscious.

"I...Uhm yes. I can." You replied, albeit meekly.

Tai'chi noticed the sudden change in your voice and made himself clear; "No, no I didn't mean it like that. I'm just, well, as you already know I haven't met many humans aside from the ones in a village back home, so I was just surprised." Watching him explain himself made you smile again. The thought of you being repulsive vanished out into thin air.

"I eat a lot. Though sometimes I eat more junk than healthy food. Anyways, let's begin, shall we? We're already late and I'm starving!" Laughing, you both know today's attendance in class isn't much of an issue. They did say there won't be any lessons today to give time for 'socializing' instead.

You stopped in your tracks when you realized you haven't shown him your face ever since you met. You looked around to see if anyone was watching and stole glances at the one in front of you. You slowly removed your mask and revealed your face. Not many have seen you without it, only those who are close to you, specifically your family.

"I guess this is the first time you've seen my face, huh?" Nervous, you asked.

Tai'chi stared at you so intensely you felt self-conscious once again. "I-Is there something wrong?"

'Shit, does he find me unattractive? Weird? Not that I expected the opposite but —'

"No. No, there's nothing wrong. You-"

"I'm what?"

"You're beautiful."

'Did he just—'

Your face heated up again and this time you had no mask to hide it.

Hastily, you covered your face with one hand and looked away.

He was snapped out of his thoughts when you did, coughing into his fist before he started eating.

Once you cooled down, you did the same. Trying to focus on the savory food they served in the uni.

Eat, damn it.

You barely noticed the orc, or perhaps you chose not to, as you wolf down your food like you haven't eaten for weeks. Another thing he found admirable and attractive. You ate cleanly, not letting a single piece of food go to waste.

He'll have to find some time later to formally introduce himself, along with other...things.

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

You leaned back on your chair, noticing Tai'chi doing the same, as you let the feeling of content wash over yourselves. The food was great! You made a note to thank the cook later.

You sat up after a moment and arranged your dirty utensils. You were against the thought of making the cafeteria's job of cleaning harder than it is. So you cleaned up, stacked plates properly in your tray with concentration, you didn't realize until later that you did the same to his dishes. You didn't spare a peek up into his eyes or else you'd make a fool out of yourself again. Taking a napkin, you wiped your mouth clean before you quickly put on your mask, much to Tai'chi's dismay.

You stood up but before you could walk away, a hand reached out to grab your arm, stopping you. He stood up from his seat.

"Pearl."

"Uh, yes?"

"There's still time before our next class starts. Would you mind taking a stroll around the campus with me?"

"Y-Yeah— sure. I wouldn't mind." You replied, avoiding his gaze.

The two of you strolled around the quiet grounds of the campus. There were trees, younger than the ones in the forest. You took in the nice scenery before you, feeling the fresh, cool air, the gentle rustling of leaves, calming, and the scent of your companion to your left, relaxing and sweet. You were in a daze, barely paying attention when Tai'chi said your name and stood still.

"Hmm?"

He chuckled lightly at your response.

"I want to continue where we left off in the forest."

"Oh. Oh, of course."

"I want to know more about you, Pearl. So I'll start with my true name." He knelt down which startled you momentarily.

"I am Tai'chi Kashharzol, eldest of five siblings, son of Durog and Gala. I come from the Northern stronghold of clan Fatof'san. Before I came down to the city, I was trained and taught basic socialization by an old human who lived in the village under our protection.

"I went through one of my clan's traditions and hunted down my first Snow Bear. The elders gave me an honorary title to carry, right after my kill."

You stood there listening to him earnestly as he told you all of this with pride, taking in each word and committing them into memory.

"I was given the name, 'Frostbreaker'. It is my warrior name." He took a breath before he asked. "Will you honor me of becoming my friend?"

All of this sounds like a confession— technically it is but there's something, intimate about it. The way his eyes shone with such determination and something you can't figure out.

Should I ask? He stopped talking, snap out of it–

"Oh, wow. I mean yes! Yes I'll be your friend. I'd be more than happy to. The honor is mine!"

You beamed as he returned a toothy grin.

"Right. I should also say something like that, well, uh, wait." You were slightly nervous as you removed your mask, offering a shy smile before speaking.

Breathe in.

And out.

"I am Pearl Blackbell, only child and daughter of Leon and Athena Blackbell. I'm from a town, West of here, Red Springs is its name. My parents taught me martial arts, and, uh, the use of self-defense weapons." You paused and showed him your crimson knuckles. "This is my favorite one to use, I'm sure you noticed already. My father... didn't want me to leave home without any assurance that I can defend myself. You were right when you said I have experience in combat. A decent amount of it," you sighed.

"I always, almost every day, get into trouble standing up for someone, bullied, or abused. I also held my own when someone tries to harass me, smashing their faces in."

Tai'chi in turn listened closely, his gaze intense on you. He was concerned about what you implied. Many attempted to assault you? How many times? Did they hurt you? Your smile faltered as you told him the next things about yourself.

"I... didn't have friends as I grew up. People tend to be afraid of what they do not understand, y'know? They didn't want me near them, finding me weird for wearing a mask, plus my reputation for punching humans didn't help," you laughed self-deprecatingly. "So I spent my whole high school years training, mastering my art with the help of my father, who was of course, very strict and hard on me." Finding nothing else comfortable to say at this stage, you went quiet.

"Can I ask you a question?" The orc said a moment later. He was bothered by the fact you had no friends, not even one. And training, training meant pain.

"Only if I can ask one in return." You replied, feeling bold all of a sudden. He grinned at this.

"Why do you always wear a mask?"

There was no trace of ulterior motive in his scent, not the usual annoyance you smelled every time someone asked the same question. So you answered him, honestly.

"Promise you won't get weirded out?"

"I swear on my name."

"Oh. oh, okay that's good. You see, my nose, or my sense of smell specifically, is err, not normal."

Now this made Tai'chi's eyes widen. Did you have an illness of sorts? Is your health in danger? Were you h–

"I can tell how someone is feeling based on the changes in their scent. My nose is very sensitive to odors so I keep wearing a mask every time I go outside. It has been like this since I was born. My doctors say it's rare for a human to possess, they say it's special, a gift from a higher being."

"When we went in the cafeteria after our first class, "—Tai'chi inserted— "Was the reason you stopped advancing inside further, the sour and disgusting smell of the students in there?"

"Yes, actually— Wait, how did you know?" you asked.

How does he know??? Did he just smirk?

"I can smell them too."

"You can?!"

"Yes."

"So you mean to tell me, my nose functions similarly like yours?"

"Yes, perhaps, a little bit differently. Or maybe it's because you didn't hone it."

"How can you say so?"

"I can block out certain smells if I want to. And based on your reaction early on, you're having a hard time doing so, is that right?"

"W-Well, yes. You're right. Usually, I'd wear a mask with a basic filtration device, but that doesn't work when I'm inside a closed space and the scents are all mixed up and concentrated."

Tai'chi nodded in reply. He began to stand up and you were met with his towering form once again. You took a step back so you can put less strain on your neck from looking up.

"You still owe me an answer to a question by the way."

"Go on and ask then."

"So, uh, is it just me or when you told me about you...it kind of felt different from how talking to a friend sounds like..." You fidgeted, a certain heat slowly creeps up your face again as you looked around not wanting to meet his gaze. You felt your heart rate increase as you noticed his scent change, telling you you were right.

Tai'chi sighed heavily and rubbed his temples before gathering the courage to talk.

"Yes, it was different."

"So..."

"We use that kind of formality, usually towards someone we want to court."

Did he say 'court'?!

"C-Court??" you squeaked. Pretty sure your face is redder than the color of your brass knuckles, your heart hammering in your chest you believed he could hear it.

"Courting, or dating, or whatever everyone calls it down here." Breathing in deeply, he returned to kneel before you and took your hands into his, large palms caressing your small ones.

"I'll have to rephrase my words."

He locked his gaze into yours, deep blue eyes to your mahogany ones.

"Will you allow me to court you, Pearl Blackbell?"

"W-Why would you want to court me?"

The hell would someone want to court me? I'm seen as a freak by most people and I'm not soft or girly like the others. I don't like skirts or dresses. I hate makeup. I have calloused hands, scars hidden under my clothes. I don't understand —

He gave you a soft smile, cutting off your train of self-deprecating thoughts. "I can hear your mind, Pearl. Don't think low of yourself. You are amazing, y'know that? The first time I saw your eyes, and the moment you fought for my sake, I knew I was smitten. You are graceful, each motion fluid and filled with strength, people would never expect you possess until they feel it through a punch you throw. You are kind, righteous, beautiful, strong, with a heart of gold. It is a shame how most people do not see it. I want to prove myself to you, and win your heart properly."

You were about to pass out from his confession when you remembered you need to respond! Gathering what courage and energy you have left, you answered.

"I...Oh my God... I don't know what to say— I've never experienced this, ever! I'm afraid I won't know what to do- what if I mess up? What if I—"

"Listen, liga ni..." He cut you off as he rubbed circles on your hands, that small shift of language sent his voice into a guttural one. "This is also a first for me, and I share your fears in this. But my wish to pursue you remains unwavered. I will try my best to woo you, and if I do something you didn't like, it is up to you to end the courting, any time you want, and I will stop immediately. I hope we would stay friends if it comes that..." He said as he broke eye contact and looked down.

"Tai'chi..." Seeing him sad like this made your chest twist in discomfort.

Steadying yourself, you studied him, his scent was pure, no malice within his words, he was speaking from his heart. With renewed confidence, you finally decided.

"Tai'chi Kashharzol...I wish to court you as well."

He snapped up his gaze back to you and saw you smile. He scented you just to make sure you weren't doing this out of pity. The moment he realized it was genuine he lifted you in the air and spun you around. You were surprised at the sudden outburst but laughed together with him once you got over it. He set you down after a while and moved his face close to yours but halted immediately when he saw your eyes widen.

"Too forward?" He asked.

"Y-Yeah." Your heart was doing backflips, even if that sounds so ridiculous.

He understood. "I apologize, I got carried away." But before he pulled back you pressed a quick kiss on his forehead. He almost purred from the gesture but suppressed it as not to scare you in any way. You were new to this after all. He cleared his throat and reached out a hand to you.

"We should head back, our class will start soon."

"O-okay." You moved to wear your mask again before taking his hand, enjoying the rest of the walk in silence. You were still nervous, but you decided to focus on the now.

I've never felt like this before... Is it a good thing? I think it is.

And with that on your mind, you let yourself relax.

A pair of cruel eyes witnessed the whole exchange, remaining unnoticed as he hid behind a tree, a good distance from where you stood. They watched you and the orc walk away before they went the other direction.

"She will be fun to break. A female, human Blackbell, tempting. This will be a great chance to demonstrate and prove how monstrous an orc could be." They snickered. "I will enjoy this, exceptionally."

"In time, Pearl. In time."

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

Now now who is this suspicious person?!

Liga ni — means 'little one' (as an endearment) in Orcish

Tags: @crackinanutshell @kokokatsworld @mitchiesdungeon

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mattness · 3 years

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rock it till waterfalls

Genres: PWP, Songfic, Romantic Inspired by Beyonce's song "Rocket"

Jacob sends to her so many messages, until his black Aston Martin business class with tinted windows was parked in the parking near the office center where Gwen worked. He purposely took off from work for two hours so that they could spend this time together. That's why he was so insistent on texting after texting, begging her to leave the office for lunch.

Gwen: "Five minutes, Jacob. I can't give up everything for you, no matter how much I really want to."

The man snorted, then smiled.

"Okay. I'm waiting patiently for you in the parking lot".

The salon was filled with music from the Depeche Mode song, "Strange Love", and Jacob tapped his fingers on the steering wheel in time with the rhythm, while he carefully looked towards the building, from which Gwendoline came out exactly to the chorus, pulling a leather jacket over a red t-shirt. Black tight pants perfectly emphasized her legs. Frye's gaze lingered on her hips, which caused the most indecent thoughts to creep into his head. While he was thinking about his own, Gwen, noticing a familiar black car in a half-empty parking lot, walked briskly towards it.

"Hi, Gwenny", Jacob greeted her as she climbed into the salon and kissed him on lips as a greeting.

"What's wrong?" Gwen asked anxiously.

"My job", assassin chuckled and loosened the knot of black tie around his neck a little with fingers. Mortimer followed this action closely. "I'm going to Wales today for a couple of days, that's why I insisted on meeting."

"Oh", was all Gwendolyn breathed, who knew perfectly well that Jacob quite often had trips and even flights outside London for work, so she was no stranger to it. "Do you want to have a lunch together?"

Jacob nodded, then smiled slyly. Gwendolyn also knew this smile perfectly well, but now it seemed completely inappropriate. The man even raised his eyebrows, which made Mortimer roll her eyes irritably.

"What?" she feigned incomprehension.

"Gwenny, you know perfectly well what."

"Then let's go home—" she shrugged, but man didn't agree, explaining that they would waste time in vain. "Are you want it here?.."

"Why not? We wanted to start trying different places. Experiment—" Jacob reminded in the most innocent voice, biting his lips.

"But not in broad daylight!"

"The car has tinted windows."

"Everybody will hear us."

"I'll turn up the music louder."

Gwendolyn batted her long eyelashes in confusion, because all arguments against sex in the car were over. Or rather, she tried to come up with some other excuse, but the fantasy exhausted all its resources. Assassin's smile widened, and sparks of desire danced in his green eyes. As a final argument in favor, Frye added in a hoarse baritone:

"We won't see each other for few days, Gwenny."

She finally gave up. Sighing heavily, Gwen pulled her jacket off her shoulders, then bent down to her boots, took them off and began to unbutton her pants without any unnecessary words, while a cheerful Jacob turned up the volume of the music, loosening his tie and unbuttoning the top couple of buttons on his shirt. As soon as Mortimer straightened pants off herself, she glanced at Jacob, who, clicking one button near the steering wheel, locked the car doors.

"How much time do we have?"

"I have two hours", assassin whispered, and girl moved to his lap. His hands began to stroke her thighs possessively, rising higher and higher. Gwen took a deep breath, bent down to Jacob's face, pushing the interfering strands of her hair behind her ear, and kissed him. At first gently, as if trying on, and then sensually and passionately, as he loved. The kiss provoked both of them. Their breathing quickly lost its rhythm. Jacob lovingly explored Gwen's native body with his hands, getting his palms under the fabric of t-shirt and wanting to remove the interfering thing. Her fingers carefully straightened the buttons on his shirt, then slid over his skin. A languid moan escaped Gwen's lips through another kiss, and Jacob smiled, knowing very well, how much she liked his body, especially touching him. Gwendolyn broke away from the assassin's lips and began to kiss his neck.

You rock hard, I rock steady

"I'm leaving for just a couple of days, but how will I miss this", Frye breathed, with his eyes closed, enjoying the confident actions of his beloved. Her hands slid down his torso to the belt buckle on trousers. Jacob caught on the elastic band of her black lace panties, trying to pull it off. They both had to distract themselves from the caresses and tinker with her undressing.

Under the intoxicated excitement of Jacob's gaze, Gwendolyn couldn't resist and still took off her t-shirt. Assassin groaned, his fingers caught on the straps of her bra and, gently touching her delicate skin, pulled them off her fragile shoulders, pressing hot kisses to Gwen's chest, who couldn't restrain a new moan, lost in the sounds of some slow song. At this second, they didn't want to hurry anywhere to allow the sweet languor to fill not only every cell of the body, but also the entire space around. Jacob Frye knew how to make the whole world lose its meaning in the moments of their closeness, and they drowned together in the ocean of the highest bliss. His love was truly maddening.

Life has a reason, swimmin' in my love, your love liftin' Higher, harder, Got me screamin' to the Lord, boy!

She could already feel with her skin, how quickly Jacob was aroused, and a shiver of anticipation passed through her body from next actions, that would finally turn their heads. Assassin reluctantly pulled away from her chest, looked with darkened eyes at Gwen, who smiled seductively. Her hands confidently slid again to the belt buckle on Jacob's trousers, carefully unbuttoning, creating a moment of languor mixed with hot impatience.

"Come here. Closer to me, Gwenny—" Jacob whispered passionately, and Gwen didn't hesitate a second longer, directing him into herself with a kiss. So excited and hot. At the same time, a moan of pleasure escaped from their lips. "Damn, baby—" assassin exhaled, squeezing his hands tighter on her buttocks, forcing her to go lower so that he could penetrate deeper. Gwendolyn smiled languidly and didn't immediately begin to move, allowing them to fully enjoy this moment of unity. Goosebumps ran up her spine. The head swam sweetly, and their whole world was reduced to the two of them.

Kiss me, pray we don't overflow, Baby, I know you can feel it pulse, Keepin' the peak of my waterfall, Rock it, baby, rock it, baby, rock it till the water falls

She began to move slowly, and Jacob, without ceasing to shower her with kisses, whispered how much he loved her and was ready to put the whole world at her feet, if only she was just in his arms, always there.

"You're such a romantic", Gwen breathed between kisses, and Frye smiled lazily.

The bodies were gradually covered with perspiration. It was getting hot and stuffy in the car. The windows began to fog up. His breathing quickened. Heart was beating louder in chest, echoing in ears, throbbing in temples. The movements gradually became more intense, rhythmic.

"Lord, Jay... yes, that's it..." Mortimer whispered like a mantra, and Jacob smiled again. How nice it was for him to watch, when she was so good with him, when she was drowning in the deep abyss of pleasure with him. And Frye was ready to do it again and again until she'll started screaming with pleasure.

Soon her body was seized by a sweet convulsion, bringing the long-awaited discharge closer, lifting her with a groan of bliss straight to heaven. Gwen trembled in his arms, shouted his name in languor, froze for several long seconds, then tiredly nuzzling his neck, breathing heavily.

Damn!

It was the best sight Jacob had ever seen in his life. He loved it so much, when Gwendolyn finished, drowning in the abyss with head, sometimes without waiting for him at all, like today. But this didn't outrage him at all, on the contrary, it flattered his ego. He needed a couple more deep thrusts to cum. At the last moment, he slipped out of her, soiling her thighs, but as soon as her breathing came more or less back to normal, Jacob had the strength for the simplest movements, he carefully wiped her skin with a wet napkin, while Gwen was still burning her hot, heavy breath on his neck, trying to recover.

We're so much more than pointless fixtures

"Was it good, honey?" Frye asked in a hoarse whisper, gently stroking her back and tracing uncomplicated patterns with his fingers.

"Very good", Gwen admitted, finally straightening up and looking into his eyes. "And, you know, it's not so bad in your car. Maybe when you come back, we'll repeat it?"

"With pleasure, Gwenny", assassin laughed softly, receiving a gentle kiss on the lips. "Someone resisted at first."

Gwen smiled guiltily.

"You're just driving me crazy, and I quickly forget about everything, about all the rules of decency, Jay", she whispered, hugging Jacob tightly. "I'm going to miss you, baby."

"Time will pass quickly, you'll see", he breathed, stroking her slightly sweaty hair. "Well, if I'm a little late, we can do the same thing over the phone."

Gwendolyn laughed softly, feeling her cheeks flush. Well, no, it was somehow completely... indecent to do this on the phone. However, she thought the same about cars. Until today.

You look so comfortable in my skin. Rockets and waterfalls.

#assassin's creed syndicate #assassin's creed #jacob fyre #jacob x gwen #romantic #love #fanfiction #fanfics #my fanfic #rock it till waterfalls #gwendolyn mortimer #my art #photoshop

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lukewhitesuns · 4 years

Text

Day 5: Touch-Starved

*shows up to the challenge five days late with a really obscure gen dynamic and a loose reading of the prompt*

@loving-fox-hours

tw: child soldiers, what initially looks like a suicide attempt, self-hatred

(AO3)

There's a youngling perched on the roof of the Galactic Museum, and Fox is exhausted.

No one reported this. Fox happened to be walking back to the barracks after a thirty-six hour shift, glancing up at exactly the right moment to spot a child idly dangling their legs over the side of the building, some ten stories up. Which means this is now his problem.

Lucky him.

What's one more cut away at his sanity? He doesn't need sleep; after what he did to Fives, he doesn't deserve it, either.

Still, he seethes as he stalks toward the building.

People refuse to behave on this kriffing planet. Everyone always has to race illegal circuits, or drunkenly brawl with each other, or cause lasting property damage for no other reason than they were bored. On the more excruciating days, there's even some explosions, attempted assassinations, and bounty hunters wreaking havoc. And who can forget the time a giant beast destroyed half of the upper city? Because that's definitely something Fox could prepare for. That was a fun experience.

Finding people where they're not supposed to be is tame by comparison, but it's still a waste of his already limited time. This kriffing kid, when he drags them out of here—

It's nearly nighttime, so the museum is closed, but there are still a few staff members loitering about. He barges in after the door gives easily.

"The roof," he says to the nearest guard. It's meant as an order, but resembles a sigh more than anything else since he no longer has the energy to slip into a commanding voice.

The man stutters a moment, then gathers himself enough to point. Fox is already moving. Too slow; he saw the lift himself. How did the Republic survive without the clones as long as it did?

He presses the button for the roof, and swipes his pass without even glancing at the access screen that pops up. Fifteen seconds later, he's stalking out onto the roof and directly toward the youngling's back with single-minded determination. It's past both their bedtimes, and Fox still has a mountain of paperwork in his office, and his patience was spent at least six hours ago. He's obviously not going to hurt the kid, but he's not past ordering their ass off the roof as rudely as possible.

As he approaches, the kid whips around, eyes widening. Fox does a split-second survey: male, redhead, approximately the age of a six-year-old brother, weighs almost nothing. Another problem: the robes, the braid in his hair, and the lightsaber clipped to his belt. He's a Jedi youngling, meaning Fox's job is now that much harder.

"Listen, I can explain—" a young, high voice begins nervously, once he's almost reached him.

Fox doesn't slow down until he's nearly level with the kid, centimeters away from the ledge, looming over him, arms across his chest. "Get. Up."

The boy stiffens, but doesn't otherwise move. His eyes are glued to where his legs are still kicking out over the edge.

"I know I'm not supposed to be here, but I couldn't stay there!" He bursts out. His voice wobbles at the end, and dread immediately settles heavy in Fox's chest.

Haar'chak, it's going to be one of those.

Why couldn't the kid just be a truant like the rest of them?

Who is he kidding, he should've realized what he was in for the moment he saw the lightsaber.

Resigned to his fate, Fox knows he has to tread very slowly with this. He loosens the intimidating posture and asks with a small sigh, "Where?"

"Th-the temple," he answers, as expected. "I don't—I can't—"

Please don't cry, please don't cry, he really doesn't know what to do with a crying kid and he's so tired right now.

To his guilty relief, after another moment the boy draws in a deep breath and straightens his posture. He glances up at Fox with embarrassment plain on his face, mouth open as though to say something, but then his expression shifts into one of surprise, then curiosity, then hesitance. His stare seems to pierce directly though his armor and trap him there.

Apart from Tano and Offee, who were both older and under arrest at the time, he has no experience with Jedi children. Are they all this strange?

When he speaks again, his voice is unnaturally even with forced calm. Still holding back tears, most likely. "You're a clone."

Fox doesn't see how this relates to dangling himself off a roof at dusk, but if it keeps him calm, there's no harm in answering. "Yes."

He frowns, digesting this, then tilts his head slightly. "So...did you want to go to war?"

The question is said cautiously, but still hits with the force of a gut punch, and is so random that for a long moment all Fox can do is stare. "What?"

"Did you want to go to the war?" he repeats. "Fight for the Republic on the front lines and everything?"

Is he mocking him for being stationed on Coruscant? His tone implies genuine curiosity, but he could be wrong. Either way, Fox has a job to do, and it gives him a helpful delay on such a loaded question.

"Here's the deal. I'll answer your question if you move away from the edge there." He knows there's no chance he'll be able to wrestle a Jedi child away from somewhere if they don't want to move, so he has to be diplomatic about this. As a peace offering, he degrades himself to sitting down on the rooftop a few meters away, despite the protests of his armor, and watches the kid expectantly.

The boy frowns at him, frowns down at the edge, then frowns at him again. "I can catch myself if I fall, you know," he says slowly.

But if he falls and he dies, that's on Fox. He doesn't say that, though. Instead he asks mildly, "Have you ever done it before?"

"Well, no, but I've practiced catching my friends when they fell off the climbing course. It can't be that much different."

Fox does not have time for this. "Sit here. Now."

Another round of staring, and the boy finally sighs and relents. "Fine." He plops down in front of Fox with none of the Jedi's renowned grace. "I'm Cal, by the way."

"Fox."

"That's a nice name," Cal replies, and despite it being the same rote response Fox receives every time he tells a nat-born his name, he's yet again struck by Cal's sincerity when he says it. "I never saw a fox before. Guess now I have." He grins sheepishly at Fox, as though expecting an eye roll behind his bucket; Fox sits there awkwardly, still at a loss of what to do or say, especially when the kid's gone from nearly crying to smiling in under two minutes. And people rarely ever smile at him, so this is disconcerting.

"So you said you'd answer my question..."

Right. That. He did say that, didn't he.

Is he actually going to confess this to a random child? He supposes he has to, since this is somehow important to why Cal was up here in the first place.

Fox chooses his words carefully. "I did want to go to the war. I'm a commander—commander of the Coruscant Guard, now, but my batchmates and I were all born to serve on the front lines, alongside Jedi Generals. It's in my genes. But someone was needed here, too, protecting the home front. My duty is to the Republic above all else, so I serve where I am needed. Which is here."

That's what he convinces himself to keep going, anyway, although lately Fox wonders if any of it was worth it.

Cal's expression turns melancholy again. While Fox was speaking, he tucked his knees under his chin and wrapped his arms around them. "I don't want to go. I'm twelve, and I'm a commander too." Freeing one arm, he gives an sloppy salute as his lips twist in a bitter smile. "Commander Kestis of the 13th Battalion, at your service. I ship out the day after tomorrow."

Fox stares. And stares. And doesn't say anything.

Then he makes a decision. He takes off his bucket. He never takes off his bucket, and says as much to Cal.

"Then why did you—?"

Because there's something poisoning the Galactic Republic, and I can finally admit it to myself, and suddenly I'm suffocating. Children going to war, brothers killing brothers, nothing ever changing. This is not what I was made for. But who can I even tell? What can I even do?

"Because you need to look at my face when I tell you this."

"Okay..." Cal says, bemused.

Fox takes a deep breath and forces himself to meet Cal's eyes unblinkingly, pushing as much gravitas as he can muster into both his voice and his expression. "You don't have to go if you don't want to."

His own words twist his stomach into knots. Because Cal still has time. He still has a modicum of freedom left, and Fox realizes he wants the kid to survive, and not become what he's become. Fox is a brother-killer now. He's less than nothing, and still, he works himself to the bone for the duty he swore himself to as a youngling. He's trapped by the war, and he can't escape. He never had that option.

The exact meaning of his words confuse him, too. What is he saying? Is he offering to help Cal escape, if the reason he's up here is because he ran away? Or is it because he wants to prevent another senseless death, so soon after being the cause of one? Cal may be a Jedi, but he's so young. Even the most skilled Jedi masters have fallen in this war, so sending one with barely any experience seems rather like sending someone to be slaughtered.

This isn't what he expected to happen at all on this roof. He's talking to a kid he just met, trying to offer advice when, as Thorn puts it, he can barely hold himself together.

"No, I..." Cal hesitates. "I'm sure if I begged, they wouldn't make me. But I have to. It's my duty to the Republic. Like you said with your job," he adds, gesturing at him vaguely.

That was not what Fox meant. He opens his mouth to object, but Cal's already barreled ahead, speaking so fast the words almost tumble over each other.

"The youngest person they sent 'til now was fourteen, and they had arguments about her all the time—though Jedi arguments are more like 'who can be more passive-aggressive' competitions. They really don't want to send us, but there are so few of us left...it was just a calculation, I guess. Even though I'm young, I'm really good. That isn't even me trying to be mean to my crèchemates or anything, they're not bad Jedi at all, it's just that I've always had more of a grasp on the Force than some people. And I'm psychometric, which is when I can touch something and see things that have happened with it in the past."

"Like Vos." Fox scowls at the mere thought of him. He and this kid couldn't be any more different.

Cal narrows his eyes for a moment. "Yeah, like him, although he's not my master...anyway, I guess I'm saying...sending me is a better choice to end the war faster. The sooner we end the war, the sooner we can go back to being actual peacekeepers. At least that last part's what Caleb says. He's also going the day after tomorrow." He sighs and stares at his hands. "But I still don't want to go, even if I have to. I freaked out this afternoon and had to go somewhere a lot quieter to think. Which is why you found me here."

"Makes sense," Fox says, processing. That sounds like a reasonable reaction for a scared kid, actually. "You still plan to go, then?"

Cal hesitates, then nods. Fox's heart sinks, but he doesn't know what more to say. His mind's still reeling; he just learned more about the Jedi Order in a quarter hour than he ever learned about the Senate in two and a half years, and he has no idea what to do with the information.

"Well, you'll need to be well-rested then," Fox says after another moment, and giving exaggerated glance to the sky.

Night has fallen, and the sky is completely black with the pollution blanketing the stars. The buildings provide enough light to see, but sometimes Fox does wonder what the center of the galaxy looks like from the surface of a planet with an unencumbered view. If it's any different from the sparse pinpricks he saw from Kamino the few days there wasn't a torrential rainstorm.

He puts his bucket back on, stands, and beckons. "Coruscant's its own war zone sometimes, and trust me, speaking from experience, you'll need every minute you can get. Let's go. I'm legally obligated to return you to the temple."

Cal groans, but thankfully, stands and follows after Fox. “I have been here a long time, I guess. Honestly, I'm surprised Master Tapal hasn't sent after me. Maybe he just thinks I've been meditating in the 'Fountains. That's what we call the Room of a Thousand Fountains."

Since the museum lies just outside the Senate District, the walk is short. If Cal wanted to hide, he didn't do a very good job. Cal chatters away the entire time about everything but the war, clearly trying to keep his mind off it as long as he can. Fox indulges him, although it's not like he can get a word in edgewide regardless.

They're at the steps of the temple when Cal abruptly stops dead in his tracks.

"Cal?"

A questioning look to his side—stars, the kid barely reaches his waist—Cal appears lost in thought.

He's so busy trying to figure out what happened that at first he doesn't even process that the blur that crashes into him with superhuman speed a second later is Cal. When he does, he freezes, glancing down at the boy, who has wrapped both of his arms around his armor and is—inexplicably, given how small he is—squeezing hard enough that Fox can feel the warmth even through the plastoid. Either it's Jedi thing, or else Fox has finally, officially lost his mind.

Gently, he rests one hand on Cal's back to acknowledge the hug. He's too nervous to do anything more, partly because he doesn't want to...break him or anything, and partly because if he's too stunned to move.

When was the last time he was touched in a way that wasn't malicious? Months since he'd had a hug from his closer brothers because their sleep schedules hardly coincided anymore, and never, by a nat-born, because why would anyone ever hug a clone?

He'd almost forgotten what it feels like.

He's doesn't deserve it.

"Thanks," Cal mumbles, face pressed half into his armor.

"What for?" Because he has no idea. "I didn't do anything."

Cal pulls back and beams up at him. "Yes you did. You reminded me I still have a choice."

Even if he picked the choice he doesn't want? Even if he barely said anything to him? Why does he deserve a hug from a kid that just met him, who would probably hate him if he knew what he's done?

"And you were really nice and didn't make me feel dumb or anything," he continues, oblivious to the turmoil in Fox's head.

Children are kind without reason, and to people who don't deserve it, but Fox realizes he's still glad that this strange kid thought he was worth a hug.

Cal starts to move away, waving a little at him. "Bye, Fox. Next time I'm on Coruscant for leave I'll come say hi."

"Bye, Cal."

He turns around again a few steps up. "And don't worry, I didn't get any memories off the armor. Big parts of clothes usually count as a part of the person, for some reason, and people aren't objects."

Fox watches his form disappear into the temple and tries to convince himself he did everything he could. That Cal will actually survive to make it back to Coruscant. He hopes he will, but he knows as well as anyone that there's no guarantees. For all he knows, this is the first and last time he'll ever see him.

The next morning, after a miraculously uninterrupted sleep, Fox wakes with a newfound determination. The guilt remains, but it's muted. No longer consuming his entire existence. Now he has a plan.

He has to take his own advice. He may not have been given a choice to begin with, but now he has one because of Fives. Ignore the warnings, or listen. He's a person, not an object, and he shouldn't have something in his brain tagging him like glorified inventory.

The chip is coming out.

#commanderfoxweek #commander fox #cal kestis #my writing #star wars #tcw #the clone wars #jedi fallen order #jfo #this is probably horrible but i tried okay

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deathtale0-0 · 3 years

Text

Mother's Day

TW // police brutality, police murder, racism

It was 19:35 on Mother's Day and I was going home. Well, more like I was rushing home. I was doing that weird thing where you run a bit and then walk a bit so that people don't look at you funny, but it was dark out, so I don't know why I was even doing it. You see, I spent Mother's Day at a friend's house because ma was working a long shift at the hospital today and didn't want me to be alone, but she was meant to be home soon, and I was meant to be home already. See my problem?

Flickering lights from streetlamps chased me, happy to be of use to someone in the night, as I noticed the foolishness of what I was doing and decided to run the last stretch home. My trainers thumped dully each time they connected with the dying pavement, with each crack and break it smugly showed a naïve attempt to catch at someone's feet and drag them to its depth of humiliation and neglect. Silence encompassed the night air, only broken by my shallow pants as I checked the phone held in my nimble mocha hand to see the time - 19:37 - I would make it home before her. But that happiness was short-lived as I rounded the corner and was hit with a gut-wrenching dread. Not dread that one feels as they go to their first school dance, or when they speak in public, but the type of dread that creeps into your flesh from the cruelty of the world and seeps into your bloodstream, filling your body with the distinct sense that something is not right. This dread gripped my mind with talons in its dark prowess, and came in the form of white and blue…

I slowed to a halt as the police officer came into sight, the rules that turned my melanin into a curse in this country flashing across my mind in a panic, but it was too late, he had seen me running. Without thinking, I tucked my phone into my sleeve. He stared at me, his brown eyes pierced my brown skin as I failed to see the softness that usually came with those colour eyes and as he failed to see me as anything other than my blackness. Flustered, I scanned him, saw the dirty blond hair poking out from underneath the hat that sat proudly on his head and the mouth that was set in a hard line. I saw the tension in his muscles and the wariness of his stance as he eyed me up and down, scrutinising me. I saw him take in the Adidas joggers, the Jordan's, the black hoodie, the black baseball cap, and most of all the black skin. Today was a bad day to wear all black as well as be all black. His harsh eyes stopped at my shaking fingers clutching my duffel bag tight. My own eyes flicked down to my bag before looking back up and with shaky legs, I decided to keep walking and pretend as if nothing had happened – because nothing had, I didn't do anything wrong so there was no need for me to be nervous. Yet as I took steps forwards, I realised there was a need for me to be nervous because things happen, I just never thought that they would happen to me, but my feet walked all of one metre before the officer stepped in my path.

He stood directly under a streetlamp, "Where you heading, kid?" A question that was so simple, so easy, and yet so loaded. I was paused in the middle of the pavement, about two and a half metres away from him, stood in the spot where the light from the lamp had begun to fade – the outskirts. Growing up I knew my favourite Bible verse was 'all have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God' but why was it that when he looked at me I felt like I had fallen farther than others? When he looked at me and asked that question, I felt like the biggest sinner of them all. After being silent for a moment too long he took a step forward and asked again.

"Home, sir," the words tumbled out, raw and messy, but oh so true, "I'm just heading home, sir."

"Home? Let's not pretend I didn't see you running a minute ago, where are you really heading?" His voice had a weight to it that made me sick. A quiet conviction that made me feel guilty.

"Sir, I swear I'm just going home-" the words tumbled out again, raw and messy, but oh so desperate.

"Then why were you running?" He took a step closer and I took a step back, the light surrounding me became dimmer.

"I was, it was because-" my hands were sweaty as they balled into fists but then straightened out again because I didn't want to seem angry, didn't want to seem like one of those drug-dealing thugs that the media paints us as, "-I'm, I'm late home, sir, and my ma she-"

"What's in the bag?" he demanded, his gruff voice taking on a menacing tone that sent chills up my spine.

"Sir it's nothing, it's just-"

"You just said it was nothing so how is it suddenly something, huh? Tell me where you're really coming from," he walked straight up to me and stared me in the eyes, "what you got in there kid? Who'd you rob the store for? You one of those thugs?" and the condemnation in his words almost made me believe it. I stared into his eyes and saw nothing but coldness, I thought that if we had no resemblance then it'd be over for me, so as pitiful as it sounded I hoped and prayed that he would see that I wasn't doing anything wrong if only because we both had brown eyes – he could relate to me because we both had brown eyes. Pathetic right? My body shook as his malice grew in front of me, "What, you think you guys can keep getting away with things like this? Open your bag!" and I felt tears prick at the back of my eyes as I willed myself not to cry in front of this man. I guess my silence assured him of his twisted righteousness as he shoved me to the ground with such force that I heard a sickening crack and when I touched the back of my head, it came away wet, slick with blood. My phone, although still in my sleeve had landed awkwardly on my wrist as he loomed over me like a demon, his pale skin stark against the night. "Are you not gonna answer me, boy?" the question, so casual, as he crouched beside me, baring his teeth and cruelty.

I didn't know why he was so angry. But I did. I was a criminal in his eyes. A criminal for having my skin two shades too dark, I missed the mark for acceptance in his eyes – the eyes of this country, this society. I was painted with a blackness that came from richness and royalty, but today ordained me as a target for those filled with a lust for hatred to take out their bigotry on. A blackness that was not a choice for me and yet shackled me to the fate of every other black man in this country – to die because of my blackness or live constantly reminded of it. Looking at him now, with the streetlamp behind him, I bet this scene was right to him, he was standing in the light, and here I was, sprawled out on the floor, afraid, alone, and in the dark. He shone his torch at me, and I put my hand out to block it, but as my hands went out to protect, his hands went out to his gun. I froze. As I lay there, vulnerable and with my melanin pooled around me – the dark in his city of light, of white - he kicked my bag, "Open it."

"Yes, sir," came my shaky reply as I slowly pulled myself up off the floor, my head lit up with agony. With his hands firmly plastered on his gun and his gun aimed at me, I reached for the zipper with my coffee hands and began to unzip my bag slowly. But, through some cruel twist of fate, someone called me. The call surprised me, so I let go of my sleeve and out fell the phone, but to him it was a gun…to them it's always a gun.

I felt them before I heard them, before I saw them, and I wish I could tell you how it felt, but I can't, because it hurt too much. He shot me six times in the chest before I could even say "Please," before I could even look at him and plead my case of life in this monochrome world. After the ringing in my ears stopped, I became weightless – just for one lovely moment – before my body, mind and soul dropped as one to the ground, feeling like the burden of the world that Atlas carried on his shoulders. I'd never felt so heavy, so conscious of my humanity and mortality as I did when I lay there dying. Tears streamed, desperate to fall as evidence of my life, to leave the mark that I was here, because there was no one else around to see me fall. As I felt vibrations in the earth, I looked to my side to see my phone screen lit up and ringing once more. After cringing at the brightness, I noticed that it was 19:45 and that the caller, it was ma. I was too tired to move. I lay there, in the darkness, with naught but my wheezing breaths, my inky blood seeping from my body, and my tragic story seeping from my soul to keep me company. A flash of pink caught my eyes as they started to close, pink of all things, pink that seemed so out of place in my greyscale experience. It was from my roses. I gathered my remaining strength to tilt my head to look through the half-zipped top of my bag and there were the roses I had bought for ma resting in the bottom. More tears streamed. Oh, the irony of it all. Looking up, I see the moon and decide that I want to die looking at it, simply because I have nothing else to look at. It has a sharp contrast to the darkness of the night sky, one's attention is drawn to it as it overlooks the Earth, taking over from the sun as the overseer and the one who must witness all the horrors this world has to offer. How sad it must be to be the moon. Grey, white, and black begin to swirl into each other and blend as I keep looking, the grey overtaking the white, and finally the black overtakes the grey as I close my eyes to rest.

At 19:49, ma called me again, but I was dead.

#short story #short fiction #sad #tw police violence #tw police murder #tw police brutality #original work #death #racism

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1-800-himbo · 4 years

Text

Support System

Tenya Iida x Procrastinator! Reader Oneshot

Synopsis : Iida becomes the very last line of defense against Y/N's tendency to procrastinate.

💙 💫 🍊

[ 3:21PM - Aizawa's Classroom ] It was nothing more than a study hall. More specifically, math class- but Aizawa took initiative to make it a nap hour. Certainly not the lustrous, heroic training most pictured when they thought about going to school to become a pro hero at all. However most students were busied- from catching up on homework to tying up other loose ends, or simply studying. A few had gotten a hall pass from Aizawa-Sensei, either for the purpose of getting to the library, or to get to an empty training room for some extra work out time.

And then there was you. Slumped in the back of the classroom, arms crossed over your desk as you focused on anything but work. Safe to say, you were heavily procrastinating. ... Enter Tenya Iida. The very moment he entered the room and locked eyes with you, you knew what was coming for you. Punctually, he smiled, and you gave a sheepish smile back, with an awkward wave. As he began his approach, his arm angled, elbow bent ninety degrees, fingers straightened as he made his own sort of wave, although it was more an air-chop. "L/N! Have you already finished our mandatory mathematics homework?" Iida chimed, tone stern but kind, and clearly upbeat.

"Oh... Well, I... Eheh, see, funny thing is-" I muttered, trying to come up with some half-assed excuse for why exactly I wasn't working on it. "I left my book in my dorm! So... I can't really start the assignment without the book, and I-"

"That's just fine, L/N! You can use mine!" ... Shit. Of course, the ever-efficient Tenya Iida would do everything in his power to make sure he and everyone around him don't get away with slacking off. Honestly, I found it kind of odd- the way he still called me by my last name. It was a formality many 1-A students had long forgotten, if they hadn't already pinned nicknames on each other. Most classmates called me Y/N by now. I only still called him by Iida because I was unsure if he wanted the formality returned. Nevermind that, though. I heaved a sigh.

"... Thank you, Iida." I muttered as he lifted up a desk, and placed it down beside mine so we could share the book easier. Well, guess there's no escaping it now... "Could I borrow some paper then? I don't really... Have my notebook either..." I admitted, hoping silently that there was no way he'd realize my supreme lack of... Well, anything efficient to work on. After all, Iida wasn't the type to shy away from scolding his poor classmates for not working their very hardest as 1-A students and future pro heroes. Without a moment's notice, he'd neatly tugged a piece of paper from his own notebook, and slid it onto my desk before pulling out a sleek black and silver mechanical pencil- fully loaded and ready to do my willing.

"So, is there something you require assistance with, or are you simply avoiding your work?" The class representative queried with a light, almost wry smile, letting me know he knew exactly what was going on.

"... You caught me," I slumped forward in my seat slightly, watching his attentive hands work through the book until reaching the page of the assignment. Finally, the book was wedged between our papers on the two desks we'd pushed together, and he released a polite chuckle, beginning on his already half-finished homework without another word.

Man, if only I was smart as Iida...

[ 4:17PM - Aizawa's Classroom ] Once again, You found yourself off in your own little world. Iida had taken the time out of his day to help you with your work, and it was honestly tiring. He worked fast and with expertise. You were just trying to keep up.

"And so, if you simply carry the ten..." I sighed softly as the blue haired teenage-adult explained an algorithm for the second time now. See, I was normally an average student. But once something stumped me, I got stressed. Very, very stressed. Usually, asking for help lead to frustrating my helper, and stressing myself out even more. But it seemed Iida was more than happy to explain it a million times over, in a million different ways. We'd been working for almost an hour. As in I'd been trying to work, and Iida had been attentively giving me all the help in the world.

Which was a little frustrating. How could this guy be so perfect all the time? So smart, so physically capable, so... So very Tenya Iida. It was as if skillful intellect coursed through his blood. A hand waved before my face. "L/N?" That was when I realized I had, once again, been caught drifting off.

"Iida, I swear, my brain is melting." With that, his sharp stare softened, and he began picking up his things.

"I suppose we should be getting back to our dorms anyways, class is ending in a moment," The blue haired boy commented, leading me to heave a sigh of relief. "Yeah... But thanks for helping a little.." Even if said help was not asked for or warranted... It was appreciated.

"Of course! What else is a class representative good for?"

💙 💫 🍊

[ 10:46 - Iida's Dorm ] Since that day in a study hall, Tenya Iida had saved your sorry behind from an awful lot of disappointment-stare from your teachers. You were sprawled out on Iida's bed, and he was slumped over his desk, writing up a formal complaint. Yada yada, something about how 'as class rep' he felt Bakugou Katsuki's tendency to bully Midoriya Izuku to tears was 'immature and a hindrance to their learning experience.' Well... At least he had good intent.

"L/N, do you think I sho- ... L/N?"

For a moment, I hardly responded. Apparently, laying in fresh-smelling bedsheets in a crisply clean room made dozing off easy. But I forced my eyes open, peeking over to Iida. He'd taken off his overcoat and tie, simply left in his ironed, clean white button up and slacks. Even in a relaxed setting, Iida didn't know anything outside of formal, did he? I expected him to continue his question, but he was silent. His eyes wandered for a moment, before locking back onto mine with a soft smile.

"Do you want to stay here tonight?" I sat up slowly, tilting my head. "Iida, that's against the rules." His eyebrow raised, and he raised an index finger to his lips in a silent 'shh' as he stood from his desk, taking off his glasses and setting them on his bedside table.

"... Since when have you gotten to tell me about rules-?" He teased lightly, and I rolled my eyes, before holding my arms out to him.

"Whatever, legs. You better not start lecturing me on proper sleeping form."

#bnha x reader #bnha oneshots #iida x reader #iida fluff #tenya iida x reader #iida tenya #my hero academia #my hero acadamy #bnha iida #oneshots #oneshot #fluff #x reader

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arigathanksgozaimuch · 6 years

Text

head to toe | lee taeyong.

genre: ten pounds of fluff. slightly suggestive? character/s: taeyong x reader. overview: you love each other from head to toe. literally. word count: 2971.

13. "Sorry I'm late." 28. "Drive safely." 99. "Be careful."

A IS FOR:

ankle

“C’mere.”

Taeyong’s voice pulls you out of your concentration. You look up from your laptop screen and scan the entire room until your eyes finally land on his figure. Calm and quiet, he’s sitting in front of his easel where a blank canvas is placed. Sunday nights mean the both of you catching up with the work you’ve put off over the weekend – you with your Film App paper, and him with his commissioned portrait.

You stand up, dragging your chair with you to where he was. He hooks an arm around your ankles and lift them up to his lap. Being able to touch you and feel you near brings him a deep sense of comfort. And only then is he able to start his own work.

B IS FOR:

belly

You sit on the sofa and let out a loud sigh of relief. Nothing beats having a boyfriend who can cook – and cook deliciously, mind you. Taeyong wears a smug look on his face as he watches you. "Full?"

Still in the last few moments of food coma, you could only nod. And then, when his gaze is back on the TV, you pull your shirt up just enough to uncover your belly and take Taeyong's hand. He immediately glances at you as soon as his palm rests on the soft skin of your stomach.

"You feel this?" you ask. "It's our food baby."

He snorts. "Wow, what's its name?"

"Chicken-stir-fry Lee."

"I swear to God you're the weirdest thing ever," he says. But he squeezes your waist and pulls you into his side, anyway.

back

Irritated Doyoung is in the middle of his speech when a hand lands on the small of your back. "What did I miss?" Taeyong asks, stealing the glass of champagne from your hands and taking a sip himself.

"Not much." You see Doyoung catching sight of Taeyong, the supposedly man of the hour, amidst the crowd and grimacing. "Just your opening speech, is all."

The man beside you snickers. "He handled it well, anyhow."

"But I was anticipating seeing you talk about your work."

He looks at you from the corner of his eye and frowns. "I’m sorry I'm late."

You want to snap back at him but you don't have a chance to, because Doyoung is already marching over to where you and Taeyong were standing. He then thrusts the wireless microphone onto your boyfriend’s chest and drag him to the spotlight, much to your delight and Taeyong’s dismay.

C IS FOR:

chest

There is a certain kind of security to be felt when you’re caged in between Taeyong’s arms and your legs are all tangled up. You feel like everything can go wrong – you can fail your exam, get sick with the flu for days, lose all your hair, and even misplace your lucky pen – but still feel happy and content. Because nothing can make you unhappy. Not here. Not when you’re safely tucked under his chin and pressed oh so warmly against his chest.

E IS FOR:

eyebrow

“What happened to his eyebrows?” Taeyong’s sister asks you as you bond over cups of coffee. She chances upon her brother’s latest profile picture and tsks in disapproval at the sight of him with one of his eyebrows partly shaved.

You shrug. “I’m the one supposed to know him the best, but even I don’t know what goes through his head sometimes.”

“There, there,” she cooes. “He’s a lot to handle, isn’t he?”

“I’m just at that point where I’m glad his fingers and toes are still complete.”

You and his sister sigh in unison.

H IS FOR:

hand

Taeyong holds your hand tightly after he sits you down on the couch. His hands are hot and sweaty against yours.

"What's wrong?"

He sighs, avoiding your gaze. "I've been hiding something from you."

"What is it?" Immediately, you are on full alert. Whatever he's going to say, you already know it's not good. You begin to anticipate something bad, like he's killed someone and now he needs help hiding the body; something worse, like he's going to use you for his upcoming exhibit; the worst, like he's going to break up with you.

"I have chicks," he says, eyes quickly searching yours for a response. He doesn't know what he sees there. Disappointment? Betrayal? Fury?

"You mean... you've been cheating?"

"What?" Your boyfriend shifts in his seat more comfortably. "No! I meant chicks, as in baby chickens. I just didn't want to tell you because you said you didn't want pets, and they're not pets! I'm just keeping them for inspiration for my new exhibit." He picks at your fingernails as he spoke, fidgeting with your hands out of nervousness.

You exhale the breath you don't realize you've been holding. If you didn't love this guy, you probably would have punched him. He sometimes makes you nervous and panicky for no reason. "Okay. Okay, that's fine."

He clutches your hands to his chest as he too sighs in relief. "Okay, good."

"How did you bring them here without me noticing?"

"Oh, that was easy. I bought them as eggs and then incubated them under our bed. I kept a daily log of them in my phone and not in a notebook so you wouldn't be able to see. Everyday, when you leave, I check up on them and cuddle them one by one like a mother hen. And then, after weeks and weeks of just pure love and warmth, they started hatching. So now, I've eight baby chicks."

"Did you just say you incubated them under our bed?"

"Uh-huh."

"For weeks and weeks?"

"Yep."

"And now that they've hatched, where do you keep them, exactly?"

"Oh! The pet store where I bought them from said to put them somewhere with soil and proper ventilation, so I put them on your mini garden."

"Lee Taeyong!"

hair

"The hell is this?"

You grab a handful of your boyfriend's hair and frown. Taeyong being an artist has its fair share of crazies. But having been with him for years has made you immune to them, so seeing him now with electric blue hair isn't as surprising as his old "experiments". But seeing Yuta and Johnny with red and green hair respectively is nothing short of shocking.

"What, you like it?" Yuta asks, his bangs covering his eyes as he blowdries his hair.

"It's like a powerpuff convention I wasn't invited in."

"See, I told you she'd hate it." Johnny elbows Taeyong against the rib.

"Shut up, Buttercup."

J IS FOR:

jaw

“Yes, give it to me, baby!”

Your arms and legs are starting to hurt from the awkward positions you put yourself into, but the smile it brings to your boyfriend’s face makes it all worth it.

“Okay, I think that’s enough pictures, [Y/N],” Taeyong says as he walks towards you. He’s beginning to think that asking you to take his picture for his Facebook profile is a bad idea. You do have a slight tendency to go overboard. Because even as he’s fast approaching you, you still manage to capture him in a candid shot or two. He quickly removes the strap from your wrist and manages, with great difficulty, to retrieve the camera from your grip.

“Not yet, just a few more!” You let out a whine in protest, almost shoving the camera lens in his face to give him a lot of pictures to choose from. “Whoa, look at that jawline,” you exclaim to distract him, knowing full well that he takes so much pride in what he considers to be his best asset. “What a killer.”

Later on, he’s posting one as his new profile photo. Before he could even finish uploading it, Taeyong tosses you your own phone so you could be the first person to like it.

L IS FOR:

lips

You know you’re in for a wild night when your boyfriend wears his clip-on lip ring, with Taeyong knowing full well how the small piece of accessory makes you feel all sorts of things.

N IS FOR:

neck

"I don't see how–"

Taeyong shushes you before you could finish your sentence. "You won't be able to see it if you keep talking. Be quiet and just stare at it."

You do as you're told, but after a minute or so, you complain once again. "I still can't–"

"Any second now."

You purse your lips and swallow the complaints that bubble up your throat. Instead, you take a deep breath and really concentrate on the canvas that was in front of you. Besides the weird splash of colors that seemed unorganized and accidental, you focus on the black lines that curve fluidly across the plane. And just like that, it hits you.

"It's a bunny!" you exclaim, straightening your posture at the same time. Taeyong has insisted you look at the picture with your head tilted at exactly 45 degrees. Now your neck just hurts and you let out an involuntary yelp.

"Good job, baby," he praises, dropping a quick kiss on your forehead. He puts the canvas away and places a new one in front of you. "Now, this one you have to look at from the back like you're walking away and someone from behind you suddenly calls your name..."

"Taeyong!"

P IS FOR:

palm

You rest your chin over your palm as you watch Taeyong dote on Jisung, his latest intern.

“Why are you being so mean to him? It’s his first day,” you complain as soon as he leaves the intern to do his assigned task and goes to you. “On my first day here, I didn’t even do much.”

“Yeah, well, I was faking being strict on you because I liked you. But now, I have to be really strict,” he says in defense.

“Because you might end up liking the new interns too?”

He shakes his head and steals a peck from your lips. “Nope. I’m actually a very strict and uptight person. I’m just nice to you because I’m whipped.”

You laugh at his strange attempts at flirting. And you don’t understand if you find it funny because his advances come off as awkward or because no matter how strange it seems, his flirting still manages to make your heart flutter. “You drive me nuts, seriously.”

“I may drive you nuts, but at least I drive safely.” And then Taeyong winks with both of his eyes.

S IS FOR:

shoulder

Scrolling through Instagram on his phone, Taeyong drops his head on your lap. “Hey, you think my doodles are pretty, right?”

“Yeah, why?”

“How come you never thought of having it tattooed on you?”

You frown. “Because it’s permanent?”

The word makes Taeyong sit up. “And we’re not?”

“Nope.”

Now it’s his turn to frown. He mulls over something for a while before speaking again. “Then let’s be permanent.”

“Like married?”

“Yeah,” he says, a small smile gracing his lips at the thought. “Like married.”

You shrug, feigning nonchalance, when inwardly you were screaming. “Fine.”

“Fine,” Taeyong repeats. “I want my fleur de lis drawing inked on your shoulder.” As he spoke, he grabs ahold of the collar of your shirt and drags it sideways to expose more skin. And then he marks the spot where he wants you tattooed by leaving open-mouthed kisses on your skin.

T IS FOR:

tooth

Besides his genuine macabre style of painting, Taeyong is also known for his rather strange exhibitions.

“Are those—”

“Yes,” he cuts you off, urging you to move on to the rest of the artworks on the first day of your internship. But you choose to stand still and stare at the teeth scattered behind the glass display.

“Are they real?”

“Yes. Have you read the description?”

Your eyes dart away from the teeth and briefly shift to the justified paragraph printed on clean white paper just at the bottom of the display, but you don’t bother reading.

“Are they yours?”

Taeyong sighs. “Of course not. You know where I got them?”

“Where?”

“I pulled them out from the mouth of interns who ask too many questions.”

You don’t speak a word for the rest of your mini tour.

toes

“You call yourself an artist with this kind of work?”

You groan, taking the brush from your boyfriend’s grip. Sitting up, you fold your right knee up to your chest to inspect your foot. And, just as you expected, Taeyong has smudged the nail polish all over your toes.

“Well, I’m sorry the wand is too small!”

“Ugh.” You snatch the bottle from the table and work on your nails yourself. “I’m painting your toes in the same way you did mine and then we’ll see how you like it.”

tongue

Doyoung makes his usual round of the exhibit just before closing time. As usual on a Friday night, there are still several students taking notes, connoisseurs basking in the different sights, and just random visitors taking pictures. Nothing is out of place, he thinks, but he could only sigh when he catches sight of you and Taeyong by the corner. If he had a dollar for every time he catches the two of you with your tongues down each other’s throats, he would have been able to purchase an original Van Gogh by now.

thigh

Love means compromise. So on days you really need a dose of your boyfriend’s cuddles, he lets you sit on his thigh and hugs you with his left arm while working on a sketch with his other.

W IS FOR:

waist

“You nervous?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll be with you the whole time, I promise,” Taeyong reassures with a smile. His hands find purchase in your waist before his fingers find each other and interlock behind you, keeping them in place. “Now, take a deep breath for me.”

You do as you’re told and exhale after a few seconds. His words don’t completely quell the nervousness within you, but they manage to calm you down a little. You’re now beginning to regret agreeing to holding your first exhibition in your boyfriend’s own place. But you realize it’s too late to back out now, because Taeyong is already ushering you towards the crowd. You see your family and friends, who all congratulate you for a job well done. You catch sight of your professors, whom you avoid on purpose for fear of a long, intellectual discussion about art theory. You also get to meet fellow artists, most of whom were invited by Taeyong himself.

Somewhere along the way, you lose your boyfriend in the crowd, but you let him be, not wanting to disappoint your guests by sticking to Taeyong’s side the entire time. However, when the crowd thins and your social skills get drained, you look for him first. And it isn’t that hard to look for a red-haired boy in a sea of brunettes.

As soon as you appear in front of him, he says, “I’m proud of you,” as if he has been practicing all night to say it and now that he has the chance to blurt it out, he does. You squeeze his hand and smile. After all, despite the countless criticisms and comments you’ve heard all night, Taeyong’s approval is the only thing that mattered.

wrist

Being an intern for Taeyong – the Lee Taeyong – is taking up all your patience, to say the least. Sure, you have been offered an internship by other artists, but Taeyong's studio was the nearest to where you live. Traveling back and forth daily for an ordinary university student like you is taxing and costly, so you decided to choose him over others. You're starting to rethink that decision now.

"Be careful!" he shouts at you for the hundredth time today. "That's an authentic Rothko you're holding, not some poster from a souvenir shop.”

You roll your eyes. Usually, it’s Doyoung, his curator and closest friend, who gives you tasks and assigns you work to do, but he has flown out of the country since the weekend, leaving you under the wing of the devil himself. Taeyong’s first job assignment for you is to clean up his studio. You think of it lightly at first, but later on realize he hasn’t cleaned the place ever since he has turned it into his workplace. Media of various kinds cling to his floor and easel like glue (you found some kind of blood-like substance that you didn’t bother asking about), and it has taken you almost three whole days to scrub them off completely.

Now he’s making you move all the paintings from his exhibition area to the storage room for some reason he isn’t telling you. As carefully as you can, you attempt to lift the painting higher as per your boss’ instruction. But with the day’s worth of carrying and transferring finally catching up to you, you stumble back, the painting in your hands becoming dangerously close to being damaged. So Taeyong comes to your rescue, catching your wrist just in time.

But this isn’t like what you see in romance movies or John Green novels where boy catches girl and they stare into each other’s eyes until they fall in love. Because Taeyong takes No. 15 from your grip and brings it to storage himself. The painting is saved, but you never hear the last of it, because he scolds and nags your ears off and leaves you standing in the middle of his studio feeling like the worst intern ever. You cry about it to Doyoung over the phone, but he still says he ships the two of you together.

“Oh, please.” You scoff. “I will never fall in love with someone like him.”

But boy are you wrong.

Send me an idol and a number!

Masterlist

#taeyong scenarios #nct scenarios #nctwriters #lee taeyong #nct #nct 127 #nct u #kpop scenarios #nct texts

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mystery-moose · 7 years

Text

FIC: Angus McDonald and the Flight of the Flying V (1/?)

This is it, ladies and germs — the Big One. Been working on this sucker since January, so look forward to regular updates. (None of which would be possible without legendary beta, @orchidcactus.) I should probably run it through another draft but I’m tired of looking at it and GOD I HOPE IT MAKES SENSE.

[AO3 link]

Spoilers for the Eleventh Hour and Murder on the Rockport Limited.

They've come a long way, but even ten years after the world was saved, they're still not quite where they should be. A whim, a missing painting, and a handful of near-death experiences help a flip wizard and his apprentice bridge the gap.

Taako does his best. Angus takes some risks. Introductions are made, bonds are tested, and lessons are learned — better late than never.

Like so many things in Taako's life, it all started with a spur of the moment decision — a whim, really. He woke up one day, rolled out of bed, and thought to himself, I'm going to Neverwinter.

He never stopped to think about it. Why second guess yourself? No point to it, in Taako's mind. You know what you want to do, you go and do it, simple as that. So he packed up his bags, called Kravitz to let him know where he was going, and set off first thing in the mid-afternoon.

A week later, Taako strode through the massive main gates of the oldest city in Faerun, purse slung over one shoulder, umbrella dangling from his wrist, big hat shading his brow and brand new sunglasses on his face. The part of him that was still wrapped up in his self-preservation hated the city. Too many folks stuck too close together was a recipe for trouble, and he'd never been all that big on people to begin with. But another part of him loved striding through the city like it was his own private catwalk, loved the stares he got from passers-by, loved any excuse to swish and swagger like the peacock he knew he was.

(Taako rarely let himself get wrapped up in his own vanity anymore — Wonderland had clipped those wings pretty good — but there were days when he caught an updraft and felt his ego soar, and he relished them.)

He made his way to his destination with purpose, paying only enough attention to avoid the wagons careening through the streets and the occasional pothole or errant pedestrian. Taako did have a reason to come to Neverwinter specifically, after all. He had no desire to delay it, even if it was the middle of the day and he hadn't found a place to stay yet. He'd sort that out later. This took precedence.

By the time Taako made his way through the merchant quarter and found the right building (he'd had to double-check the address, Magnus' handwriting was next-level awful) it was half past three and he was starving. Still, he needed to make a proper entrance, so Taako adjusted his sunglasses, tugged on his purse strap, and marched up the steps to the door. He pushed it open and strode through the foyer, up the stairs, and through the second door with the frosted glass and the familiar name on it.

Inside, beside another door, was an tall orc sitting at a spotless wooden desk. Older (or maybe just nervous) with thin gray hairs streaking through his dark hair, pulled back in a ponytail. He was peering through half-moon spectacles as he wrote fastidiously with ink and quill, and didn't look up when Taako entered.

"Sir is busy at the moment," he said politely. "Please take a seat."

Taako didn't break stride. He made right for the second door. The orc noticed a bit too late, and his eyes widened.

"Hey, hey!" he called out, standing from his chair. "He's in a meeting, you can't—"

Taako threw open the door and stepped inside.

The office looked exactly like Taako expected it to; couple of chairs, big desk in the middle, some windows behind it overlooking an avenue. Bookshelves lined the walls, and every shelf was crammed full of books, with the odd knickknack here or there for color, only some of which Taako recognized. On the walls above the shorter shelves were hung wands, souvenirs, degrees from the university, and framed newspaper and magazine articles. All of it, he could tell instantly, was exactly where it was supposed to be. It was the most well-organized chaos he had ever seen.

The boy was leaning back against his desk, legs crossed. His jacket was off, slung over his desk chair, and his usual cap was gone, revealing the head of thick, unruly hair no one had ever been able to tame properly. His attention was on the room's only other occupant (an older woman Taako didn't bother to pay attention to) but he looked up when the door opened, and the expression on his face was worth the week and a half it took to get there.

Taako threw his arms out and grinned. "What's crackin', Angarang?"

Angus, eyes wide and smile even wider, straightened from his desk (still too tall, Taako would never get used to that) and closed the distance between them in two long strides.

"Taako!" he said, pulling him into a brief hug. "Sir, what are you doing here?"

"Oh, you know, I'm in town for a bit," Taako said casually, brushing imaginary dirt off Angus' shirt. "You look good, my dude. New glasses?"

"Same as last time, sir," Angus said with a laugh.

"Really?" Taako feigned skepticism. "Must be the face that's changed."

"I'm sorry, sir," said the orc behind Taako. "I tried to stop him."

"It's okay, Gav," Angus replied, raising a hand. "He's family."

Determined to ignore the sudden sharpness of feeling in his chest, Taako turned around and smirked smugly at the orc named Gav. Gav glared back, but it became more like a pout as he closed the door.

With a little kick of his heel, Taako spun to face Angus. "You feel like food? Because I just got off the road and I am ravenous!"

Angus hesitated, turned to look at the woman in the chair, then back at Taako. "Give me ten minutes?"

"Only because it's you, Ango," said Taako, pinching both his cheeks. "But if I starve out there, it's on your head."

Angus smiled one last time, squeezed Taako's shoulders, then turned back to the woman. As he left the room and closed the door behind him, he heard Angus apologize for the interruption.

"Quite alright," the woman replied, amused. "I had a mother who was the same way."

Taako spent his ten minutes in the waiting room of McDonald Investigations irritating Angus' orc secretary; tapping his foot to a non-existent beat, gently scraping the tip of his umbrella across the hardwood floor, making his chair creak at odd intervals, and generally being a nuisance. The orc steadfastly refused to acknowledge Taako's presence and continued with whatever dull clerical work he had to do.

Taako never liked being ignored.

"Hey, thug."

Gav looked up, slightly annoyed.

"I've been walking all day and I am just parched," he said, gesturing to his throat. "Can I get a glass of water?"

The orc looked off to the side, at the pitcher full of water on a small end table by the door. He looked back to Taako, who smiled innocently. He sighed, and stood from his seat, walked over to the table, took one of the empty glasses from the tray, filled it with water, and went to hand it to Taako.

"Fabulous," said Taako appreciatively, taking the glass.

Gav frowned slightly, acknowledged him with a nod, and turned away. Taako waited patiently for the orc to sit down at his desk again.

"Oh! Could I get a straw?" Taako smiled and pointed at his mouth. "Sensitive teeth."

Now Gav glared at him, visibly biting his tongue. With a flick of his wrist, a golden illusory hand materialized by the pitcher, opened a drawer and plucked out a straw, then floated in front of Taako's face.

"Fancy," Taako muttered, taking the straw as the hand vanished. "Much obliged, homie."

The orc shook his head and returned to his work.

Then he flinched as Taako sipped as loudly and noisily as possible.

This continued for several minutes. When Angus and his client finally emerged from the office, Gav's shoulders visibly slumped in relief.

"Thank you for answering my questions, ma'am," Angus said politely. "I'm sure some of them seemed unnecessary."

"Not at all, detective," the old woman replied. "I appreciate the meeting. I'm more certain than ever that our Museum is in good hands."

Angus smiled and bowed slightly, hands behind his back. The woman returned the gesture (though for her it was more of a nod) and left. After the door closed behind her, Taako set down his glass, stood from his seat and shouldered his umbrella.

"We good?"

"We good," Angus said, walking over and grabbing his cap from a coatrack by the door. "Gavin, close up shop for me, would you?"

"Yes, sir," replied the orc, standing from his seat. "I'll dust up as well, shall I?"

"You don't have to do that, Gav."

Gavin nodded and adjusted his spectacles. "I'm aware, sir."

Angus smiled at him (damn but the boy smiles easily, that has to be a good thing) and waved. "See you on Monday."

Taako followed Angus out, twirling his umbrella as he did so. "You know a good place?"

"I do," Angus said, "and don't even think about picking up the check."

He barked out a laugh. "Good one, Agnes."

"So how are you?"

They were sitting at a wrought iron table outside a pleasant little cafe at the end of the street. Angus had assured him the food was good, but while Taako trusted his judgment more than most, he had played it safe and ordered something impossible to screw up.

"Can't complain," Taako said with a shrug. He quickly snarfed down the last of his BLT. "I mean, I could."

"Of course you could."

"But I won't." He gestured at nothing. "Things are fine. Everything's fine."

Angus stared at him in that way he stared when he didn't believe Taako but didn't want to look like he didn't believe him. Taako was an expert in these sort of double-blind expressions, being a duplicitous bastard himself.

"How's Kravitz?" Angus asked, a little too casually.

"Good," Taako said, matching his tone. "He's busy, most days, is all."

Angus nodded and took a sip of his coffee. "Mhm."

Taako sneered. "Don't give me that 'mhm' shit, boychik. Just ask."

"Fine. How busy is Kravitz?"

"Too busy!" Taako declared, reaching for his tea. "He's out too late and leaves too early. Sometimes he doesn't come home at all, for days on end. Some necromancy cult in the Far Reaches or something. We don't talk about work much."

"That's a shame."

"Totally." Taako leaned back in his seat, cradling his cup in his hands. "I'd be worried he's getting tired of me if he weren't trying to play grab-ass whenever he's there."

"Gross, sir."

"Honestly, the man is insatiable! Like a sexual tyranno—"

Angus flicked his finger. A bit of Taako's tea jumped the rim and splashed on his nose. He wiped it off and glared at the boy, who grinned back at him.

"Goofing on you isn't as fun now that you can fight back," he grumbled, smiling behind his cup.

Angus chuckled — he used to giggle, Taako remembered — and took a sip of his coffee. "So you were bored?"

"Absolutely." Taako took a sip and grimaced, then added more honey. "It is dull as doorknobs in that house, pumpkin. I mean, I was happy to lay down some roots and all, but there's only so many times you can eat your own baking and pull weeds in the garden before you start to lose your marbles."

"You could get a hobby."

"I just named two!" Taako said loudly, throwing a hand in the air.

"Well... yeah," Angus admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. "I meant, like, a new hobby."

"Oh yeah, I'll take up carpentry," Taako scoffed. "That'll be buckets of fun. I can hear Magnus now, lecturing me on how best to carve a duck's asshole."

"It's an option."

Taako flicked a finger of his own. Angus, through a exceptional display of manual dexterity, barely managed to avoid spilling his coffee.

"Hobbies suck." Taako crossed his legs beneath the table. "I'm tired of 'em. This is better. Besides, when's the last time I saw you? You missed last Candlenights."

"And the Bureau reunion, I know." Angus sighed and looked down at the table. "School was so busy, and then setting up the agency..."

"Hey, no tea, no shade, Ango," Taako said gently. "You did what you had to. Place looks great. I'm glad I got to see it."

He smiled, and damn if it didn't make Taako want to smile too. "Thank you, sir. I'm glad, too."

"Shame I wasn't the first, though."

Angus rolled his eyes.

"Really thought I was your favorite."

"Magnus was in town for a trade fair," he explained, biting back a smile. "We ran into each other."

"No, no, it's fine," Taako said, looking away with a pout. "I understand."

"I did call you first, when I got the deed."

"Oh, yeah, on the stone. That's real special."

Angus flicked his finger again. Taako's chair tilted backwards, and he had to lean forward to keep from toppling.

"When did you get this petty?" Taako asked indignantly.

"Couldn't say, sir. Must have picked it up somewhere."

Taako glared at Angus, looking furious. Then he started cracking up. Angus promptly followed suit.

"S'good to see you, pumpkin," he said, wiping a tear from his eye.

"Same here, sir," Angus replied with a grin. "You have a place to stay?"

"Hadn't gotten that far yet," Taako said plainly. "I'm not exactly short of cash, though."

Angus leaned forward and put his hand on the table. "Sir, if you don't stay at my home, I'm going to be very upset."

"Don't have to if you're short on room," Taako said, putting up the most token fight imaginable.

"Sir."

"Alright, okay, jeez." He drank the last of his tea and set down the cup. "You're the boss, bubeleh."

Turned out Angus didn't live too far from the agency; his little second floor apartment was in a townmanor at the edge of the merchant quarter. There was a small garden in the interior courtyard, with some flowers, a large oak, and a couple benches. It was honestly nicer than what Taako had expected.

The boy must have caught him staring at that garden, because he started to explain. "I helped the landlord out of a jam a while back. He cuts me a deal on rent, and I don't have to take a cab to work."

"Nice," Taako said, nodding approvingly. "Already got people under your thumb, huh, Djangus?"

"It's not like that," he said as he pulled his keys from his pocket.

"Oh, yeah, totally. I read you." Taako gave Angus an exaggerated wink. Angus rolled his eyes and opened the door.

The apartment was small and sparsely appointed, with only a simple table and two chairs in the kitchen, and a couch and coffee table in the sitting area off to the right by a little fireplace. There was precious little in the way of decoration. In fact, the only immediate sign that anyone lived here at all were the hats and gloves on the rack next to the door.

"Jeez, Agnes," Taako drawled, taking off his hat. "You ever think about a plant or something?"

Angus paused taking off his jacket. "Yeah, I, uh. Figured I should probably decorate the office first. Gotta make a good impression on the clientele and all that."

"Yeah, but what about the non-clientele?" Taako asked curiously, hanging his umbrella on a coathook. "How are you supposed to invite someone over for a little late night mambo if your apartment looks like a furniture showroom?"

Angus chuckled weakly, and for the first time, Taako detected a hint of nerves. "That's... I'm not exactly —"

"What is it, kiddo?" he asked, concern edging its way into his voice despite his best efforts.

"Nothing," Angus said quickly. "I'm fine. I just — I don't spend a lot of time here, y'know? I'm super busy. Heck, I don't even know anyone outside of school or work! So—"

"So what?" he asked. "Why not invite one of them? You gotta have a life that ain't work, Ango."

"It's not that simple," he said defensively.

"Sure it is!" Taako reached over and grabbed him by the shoulders. It was the most comforting thing he could think to do in the moment, which probably said something about his instincts. "Just buy a plant, put up a painting, and say you wanna play tiddlywinks at your place!"

"What does that mean?" Angus asked, scandalized. "She wouldn't p—"

His eyes widened and he shut his mouth faster than you could blink. Taako stared at the boy, and a crooked grin slowly assembled itself on his face.

"She?"

Angus said nothing.

"Pumpkin. Cookie. Peaches." Taako removed his hands and clasped them together. "Do you have a crush?"

"No!" Angus said, then closed his eyes and winced, defeated. "Please don't ask."

"But I must, I must!" Taako threw an arm around Angus' neck and leaned on him. "Bubeleh. You know I won't judge. I mean I will, but for you I'd keep it all to myself."

Angus shook his head.

"Oh, please?" Taako whined. "Come on. Just a name!"

"I think it's time I went to bed, sir."

Taako pouted, and released the boy with a sigh. "Fiiiiiine. You keep your secret. But it won't stay secret for long! You're smart enough to know that."

Angus breathed a sigh of relief, running a hand through his hair. He promptly changed the subject. "I can sleep on the couch, if you want the bed. Is there anything you need? You don't have any luggage, so—"

"Oh, I do!" Taako said cheerily, then pulled a small model tent from his pocket. He tossed it on the floor and in less than a second, a six foot tall, two-foot wide pup tent popped into existence in Angus' living room. Taako pulled the cloth door-flap aside to reveal six large pieces of luggage (and a small clutch) sitting in the much larger magical confines of the Pocket Spa.

"Don't have to worry about me, my guy," Taako said smugly. "I've got plenty of room to stretch out."

Angus smiled sheepishly. "Right. Forgot you had that."

"Needed a place to set it up, though," said Taako, waving the door-flap. "Doesn't exactly have a lock. You want in? Seems like you could use a spa evening."

"Nah, I'm alright. Thanks, sir."

"Suit yourself." He stepped inside and held the flap open to say, "Night, kiddo."

Angus smiled and waved as he turned away. "Good night, sir."

Taako watched him walk back down a short hallway to what must have been his bedroom. He closed the door-flap and stepped into the Pocket Spa with a sigh, then started to take off his jewelry.

This visit had certainly been the right move — the kid clearly needed some company that wasn't attached to his work life. Obviously Taako wasn't ideal — that'd be whoever this crush was, and wasn't he tickled to learn about that — but every little bit had to help. He got the distinct feeling Angus was wearing a bit thin. Not the same carefree kid from back in the day, trolling around the Sword Coast with Taako and Kravitz before he heard the siren song of higher learning and left the nest. Those were good times. The best years of Taako's life.

And if he was honest with himself, the whole reason he was there.

Taako had a certain level of self-awareness, even if he did his best to fight it at every turn. There were at least three ex-Bureau members closer than Angus, Magnus included, and as reluctant as Taako was to admit it, he enjoyed all their company. But puttering around that empty house, spending time looking at the mementos scattered over every room... when he'd finally had enough, there'd only been one person Taako wanted to see.

With a snap of his fingers, Taako's arcane cosmetics fizzled out; he would have taken them off the moment he crossed into Angus' apartment, but there was still that part of him that wanted Angus to see the best of him, and not his (many, manifold) imperfections. He made a point of avoiding the full length mirror on the far wall of the spa as he changed into his pajamas, then opened up one of the trunks sitting on the floor and pulled out a blanket and pillow.

As he climbed into one of the lounge chairs, Taako decided Angus shouldn't know. No point to it. The boy had enough to worry about; no need to add Taako to the list just because the stupid elf had forgotten what solitude felt like. This is what attachment does, that small, selfish voice in his head told him. Makes you soft. Makes you weak. You used to live like this. Now you get a little lonely and you go running to a child.

Taako growled something unpleasant under his breath and flicked his wrist. The alchemical lights hanging in the Pocket Spa dimmed, and he shut his eyes.

No, Angus shouldn't know. But he probably already did.

He was just good enough not to say anything.

#the adventure zone #thezonecast #taz #fanfiction #taako #angus mcdonald #post-campaign #mystery #adventure #i really really hope this is good #i've lost all perspective at this point #please enjoy???#more chapters forthcoming!

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