#reporters really get away with asking questions like 'how important was it to win tonight'

[ohpuckno]

[stu] edm @ ott 11.19.2024

[fahrni]

Saturday Morning Coffee

It’s grey outside this morning, low fog, and we expect rain later in the morning that should go until midnight tonight. My what a difference a week makes. Last week at this time is was 8 Fahrenheit outside, this week 49 Fahrenheit at 8AM. Weird.

My first cup is steaming on the table next to me. It’s delicious. ☕️

NBC News

WASHINGTON — A federal judge indicated Wednesday that then-President Donald Trump’s remarks on Jan. 6 telling a crowd to “fight like hell” before the Capitol attack could have signaled to his supporters that he wanted them “to do something more” than just protest.

It seems obvious to all of us TFG riled up his supporters and sent them marching to the Capitol to overthrow the will of the people. Of course he’s likely to get away with it, run for President, win again, and never leave office. Thus destroying our democracy.

I hate being so negative but I haven’t seen anything that makes me believe justice will eventually come home to roost for TFG.

Ashur Cabrera

Thanks to my instance admins, though, seeing the red no alt badge is a simple way for me to know not to boost that post. Conversely, an alt badge gives me the green light to boost, knowing the author has taken the time to describe the image.

My friend, Ashur, on why it’s important to add alt text to images in your Mastodon posts. It’s all about accessibility.

Mac Rumors

Historically, Apple released at least one new Mac model every year in the fourth quarter that runs between October and December, starting in 2001 with the launch of the iBook G3. This means that there has been a new Mac toward the end of the year for the entire lifespan of product lines including the iPod, iPhone, iPad, and Apple Watch.

While I still love me some Apple devices I don’t really pay much attention to what’s happening with Apple releases. Most of the end of the year Apple enthusiast angst is around their promise to convert the entire Mac line to use Apple Silicon. They didn’t make it.

Meanwhile I’m plugging along on my 2019 MacBook Pro and it’s a perfectly great computer. Yes, even for writing code.

Rob Napier

We spend so much time drilling algorithmic complexity. Big-O and all that. But performance is so often about contention and memory, especially when working in parallel.

I see Rob Napier’s name all over Stack Overflow when I have a question about iOS or Mac Programming. This little piece walks through his process to optimize some code. I love these types of posts.

Not Just Bikes

I tried the “Full Self-Driving (Beta)” on a Model Y in Toronto. It was terrifying.

I don’t want a full self driving car and I have zero confidence in Tesla ever creating a good one, much less a perfect one. Musk is delusional and rapidly slipping into insanity after his purchase of Twitter. More on that later.

Don’t waste your money on a Tesla, there are lots of really great EV’s on the market now.

Mobile Syrup

After a heavy winter storm hit southern Ontario and parts of Quebec around December 25th, one lucky home could keep the lights on via the power from a Ford Lightning.

Speaking a a great EV! How cool is it to have the ability to power your home when the power goes out? I’d like to have that ability. I mean prices start at less than $40,000.00! 😳 Who can afford these things? I can’t. 😕

The North Shore Leader

Controversial US congressional candidate George Santos has finally filed his Personal Financial Disclosure Report on September 6th - 20 months late - and he is claiming an inexplicable rise in his alleged net worth to $11 million..

This Santos guy is a real piece of work, just like TFG. He’s nothing more than a grifter and he’s going to be a Representative for New York’s 3rd congressional district. Hogwash, I say. He should be expelled for lying and we need a better systems in place to vet any candidate before they’re allowed to run for office.

Seat 31B

A lot of people have been asking for an explainer on what is going on with Southwest Airlines and the massive meltdown that has occurred.

This whole Southwest thing is a real mess. It sounds like they need to invest heavily in their digital infrastructure. I know a company full of great folks who could help fix it.

David Penfold

Eating too much cake is the sin of gluttony. However, eating too much pie is okay because the sin of pi is always zero.

Lovely, geeky, dad joke. I had to share it.

Denny Henke

Building the tiny house, setting up the garden and food forest during the first summer. Then, of course, learning about living in the tiny house during winter and what that means for keeping warm and keeping things working.

This is a really great series of posts! Our youngest daughter is taken with the idea of living in a tiny home. Guess I should pass this series of articles on to her? 🤔

Dave Rogers

But, like anyone I suppose, I have darker moods from time to time; and I often find that I’m reluctant to post those thoughts at the marmot. They’re not strictly political, though politics has a role in why they exist.

I love reading Dave’s work. He’s a very thoughtful man and shares wonderful stories about life, tech, and photography. This post is out of the norm for him but I understand exactly where he’s coming from. I have these thoughts myself and I often wonder how many folks share them with me.

You’re not alone, my friend. ❤️

Dave Winer

One of the reasons I chose Twitter for identity for my apps, a decision made in 2014, is that I hoped that a developer community would grow up around Twitter. I hoped that Twitter would take a chance on co-promoting products. It could still happen, but it seems unlikely now.

With Twitter imploding there’s a decent chance Dave will have to swap out his identity system. As nice as it would be to not have to do it, it seems somewhat inevitable unless Musk can turn things around at Twitter.

Time for my third and final cup of coffee. See y’all next week. ☕️

[spidernerdsblog]

Hi 🙋‍♀️I have a request if u take them. Cud u write sth about Tom Holland x singer reader and the reader is performing at the Grammys or sth and the performance and song and costume is like really seggsy and Tom gets jealous??? Idk 🤷‍♀️ Sorry to bother u I just love your writing

Sorry this took me so long was at a lack of ideas. I strongly believe Taylor Swift’s reputation deserved a Grammy. So I'm borrowing her album for the reader. Hope you like this.

Pairing : Tom Holland x Singer! Reader

Warnings : angst, fluff, jealousy, suggestive theme, missed typos

Mini Playlist : Endgame by Taylor Swift, There’s nothing holding me back by Shawn Mendes

Baby I'm jealous

You and Tom were seated at the back when your limo pulled over at the venue. You could hear the commotion from the inside even though you have walked numerous red carpets by now but it still seems to be a little nerve racking to you. Especially when this is the first time Tom is accompanying you to the Grammys which is going to be a big deal for the media. The security personnel opened the door and as you stepped out of the car you were flooded with flashing lights from the cameras. 

Tom held out his hand for you, you slipped your arm into his and walked with a dazzling smile posing for the cameras “you look amazing, darling” he knelt down to whisper in your ear. In the meantime a lady journalist came forward to ask you a bunch of questions. 

“So Y/N three nominations this year, how are you feeling?” 

“Well it’s always good to be back here and share the stage with all these talented artists as usual I’m excited and looking forward to the night” you answered.

“We see you have brought company this year” she remarked which had you blushing.

“Yeah, I couldn't think of a better company than him on this very important occasion” you said bashfully tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Tom, what do you have to say?” she poses the question to him.

“Uhh I mean she has always been an incredible singer and her songs are the reason that made me fall in love with her in the first place” he replied looking proudly at you.

“Aww you both are adorable. Wish you the best” she said before leaving.

“Thank you so much” you thanked her, walking inside the auditorium and sat on your designated seats. There you were met with lots of your friends from the music industry as you said hi and chatted with them for a while.

“Hey Y/N how are you?!” you heard Shawn from behind as you turned around and went to eagerly hug him. You and Shawn were really good friends from the beginning of your career and you have always been supporting each other’s works.

“I’m good, how are you?” you chirped.

“I’m fine now” he remarked cheekily and went to sit beside you as you started talking catching up on each other totally ignoring Tom. To be honest he was a little annoyed seeing you so over friendly with him but he brushed off his thoughts quickly.

The show began and a few awards were distributed with some performances in between by different artists. You too had to perform for tonight which also included a duet with Shawn and soon your time came as you stood up from your seat to go backstage.

“Best of luck, love” Tom said to boost your confidence.

“Thanks babe” you kissed on his cheek lovingly.

“See you on the stage Y/N” Shawn snickered.

“Oh I’m looking forward to it” you blew him an air kiss and headed backstage to change into your stage outfit. The stage was set and you could hear the loud cheers of the audience from backstage. Truth to be told you always get a little nervous before any public concert but this time it was different because Tom sat there in the audience and you are more excited than nervous to perform. The lights went out and the screen doors slid open as you walked on the stage with the spotlight on you. The notes begin to play as you vocalize striding across the stage with oomph.

I wanna be your endgame

I wanna be your first string

I wanna be your A-Team

I wanna be your endgame, endgame

The crowd cheered as the supporting dancers slowly entered the stage. Tom sat amidst the crowd in awe witnessing you in your full glory. You owned the stage like a queen. He knew you were the prettiest woman he has ever met but the bodycon suit you were wearing accentuated your curves all at the right places.

Big reputation, big reputation

Ooh you and me we got big reputations, ah

And you heard about me, ooh

I got some big enemies

You waltzed around the stage with a sultry look in your eyes, slightly swaying your hips making the crowd go crazy. Tom was very good at keeping his emotions under check but when it comes to you he’s a possessive man so when he heard a few men from the crowd passing comments of how hot and sexy you looked he was fuming from inside. You went on to sing two more songs from your album then transitioned to Shawn’s latest single.

You take me places that tear up my reputation

Manipulate my decisions

Baby, there's nothing holdin' me back

“Make some noise for Shawn Mendes!” you cheered as he emerged from the backstage playing the chords on his guitar and the audience screamed at the top of their voice.

I wanna follow where she goes

I think about her and she knows it

I wanna let her take control

'Cause everytime that she gets close, yeah

He sang with his gaze directed at you which didn’t go unnoticed by Tom who was looking at you both with narrowed eyes and clenched jaws. 

She pulls me in enough to keep me guessing (mmm)

And maybe I should stop and start confessing

Confessing, yeah

You joined in singing along the lyrics with him exchanging flirtatious gestures with each other. You encouraged the audience to sing along with you.

Oh, I've been shaking

I love it when you go crazy

You take all my inhibitions

Baby, there's nothing holdin' me back

You take me places that tear up my reputation

Manipulate my decisions

Baby, there's nothing holdin' me back

There's nothing holdin' me back

There's nothing holdin' me back

You were clearly having a fun time sharing the stage with Shawn as you both swayed to the beat with a wide smile and the crowd cheered you on. Tom heard  someone saying “they make a good pair” and he completely lost it. Now he was jealous even though he knows it’s wrong because you had always made it clear that you loved him more than anything but you in that ravishing outfit dancing and singing being way too comfortable around each other wasn’t helping much. 

Your performance ended after some time and Tom couldn’t be anymore happier. You were back in the audience again as Shawn couldn’t stop praising you “you just set the stage on fire Y/N! It was awesome”

“Oh shut up! You weren’t bad either” you quipped. Tom sat there silently feeling neglected at how you had time to talk with everyone except him. The show ended with you winning the three categories you were nominated for : album of the year, song of the year and artist of the year. You were elated at your achievements as your team escorted you for a photo session. You saw Tom standing at a distance and walked over to him.

“Why are you standing here? Come and stand with me” you said, grabbing his arm.

“No I’m better off standing here rather than being your arm candy” he says bitterly pulling out his arm from your hold.

“What?!” you were slightly taken aback as you looked at him in confusion.

“Hey Y/N!” your manager called out.

“Just a moment!” you told him to wait and dragged Tom to a corner.

“What the hell was that back there?” you hissed at him.

“You know it very well” you shrugged with a disinterested look on his face.

“I-I really don’t understand where this is coming from Tom but are you upset with something?” you were really concerned with his sudden outburst.

“Well isn’t that obvious? When your girlfriend brings you to a public event to treat you like a sidepiece and goes on flirting with her colleagues on stage it is naturally upsetting” he jabbed at you.  

“Are you even listening to what you are saying Tom? Everyone here are my work friends just like you have” you retorted in a hushed tone.

“Well it looked more than just friends” he bit back.

“Now you’re being ridiculous” you were totally done with him, fuming at his accusation.

“Y/N come fast!” your manager called you again.

“Yeah coming!” you replied and turned to Tom again “you know what it was actually my fault that I brought you along with me. I thought we were ready to take the next step in our relationship but it clearly doesn’t look like that” you snapped at him and walked back to have your pictures taken. You were stopped by various people, for interviews as well as to congratulate you for your win but you were so annoyed with Tom you couldn’t concentrate properly.

Towards the end of the night, you had almost forgotten about Tom’s comments as you busied yourself into conversations with different people from the industry, sipping on champagne. 

As soon as he cooled down Tom was quick to realize his mistake and tried to approach you several times, but you successfully ignored him by preoccupying yourself elsewhere. He eventually caught up to you, grabbing your arm before you could walk away “Y/N, please. Can we just talk for a second?”

“No I don’t think so because I’m quite busy flirting with each and every guy over here” you snapped, turning to walk away. He grabbed your arm again, “Y/N, c’mon love, I’m really sorry” he whined.

You whipped around “not now Tom. We will talk after we get out of here so if you will excuse me” saying so you walked away to be stopped by a reporter for another interview. The after party ended an hour as you and Tom exited the place. You climbed into the limo, quickly putting up the privacy window. Tom climbed in after you, taking a seat glancing at you.

“What?” you scowled, crossing your arms over your chest. You could tell he was really upset with what he’d said earlier. 

“Y/N.. I can't even explain how sorry I am” he started “I know I was being a dick back there and I feel terrible about it”

You leaned back in your seat sighing “you know what, I'm really tired. Can we talk about this after we reach home?” He nodded silently in agreement without uttering a single word on the drive back.

Once you got home, you walked through the living room and made your way into your shared bedroom. You sat on the bed taking off your heels and massaged your ankles. After sometime Tom joined you in the bedroom. He takes off his suit jacket and loosens his tie as you stare at him for a second. He looked so good in formal attire which filled your head with filthy thoughts. How you could have celebrated your win in a different way but he had to ruin it by acting out like that.

“Y/N, I truly am sorry. I.. I have no excuse for my behavior. It was completely my fault” he walked over to you, sitting next to you on the bed.

You sighed deeply and stood up walking over to your walk in closet. Your hands went to your back to reach out to the zipper of your dress “I really didn’t expect this from you at least. Of all the people I thought you would understand since you are in the same line of work” you said with disappointment clear in your voice. Tom hung his head low in shame.

“I know babe it was rude and totally uncalled for. I was a fucking idiot and let my insecurities get the best of me” he said with remorse.

“Then just think about how I feel when I have to watch you making out with other women on screen. I never said anything to you. Instead I always supported you and you on the other hand questioned our relationship just because I was singing and dancing with someone else who happens to be a very good friend of mine” you ranted still struggling with the zipper of your dress “a little help please?” you huffed slightly irritated and angry.

Tom bit back a smile as he walked over to you and helped you unzip your dress. He took your hands in his and pecked on them gently “I didn't mean to ruin the night for you” he apologized, looking down at your hands.

You pulled out your hands and crossed your arms “well it wasn’t that bad given that I won three Grammys but I wished you were there by my side” you said completely forgetting that you were standing there in just your strapless bra and very tiny pair of lace underwear.

Tom was eyeing you the whole time with a known smirk plastered on his face. You noticed that and looked down at yourself “oh, c’mon. I’m trying to have a serious conversation here!” you scoffed, throwing your hands in the air. You shook your head in annoyance and grabbed the black silk robe, tying it around your body.

Tom was broken out of his trance as he walked over to you, placing a hand on your cheek “Y/N believe me I’m really sorry. I wish I could take back all the horrible things I said to you. You didn’t deserve any of it. Sorry for being such a jerk to you”

Your expression softened as you held his hand gently “well I’m glad to hear that. And even if I try I can’t stay mad at you for a longtime so apology accepted” you said with a smile. 

“Thank you darling it would never happen again I promise” he says stroking his thumb on your cheek bone as he leaned in, pressing a kiss to your lips “and I mean it” he stated a hand reaching up to untie your robe as your robe fell open, your breath hitched “though it was slightly your fault too, how do you expect me to not get jealous seeing you with someone else looking so bloody gorgeous in that outfit?” he hooked his index finger under the silk on your shoulder, pulling the robe down slowly, leaving a trail of goosebumps on your skin “but I’m really sorry” he whispers in a husky tone. 

“Then prove it” you looked at him challengingly, a smirk tugged at the corner of your lips. Without any further delay Tom crashed his lips to yours effortlessly lifting you up by your thighs as you wrapped your legs around his waist.

...........................................................

Reblogs are appreciated ❤️

[theres-an-impulstor-among-us]

Friday Night Stabby best quotes part 16 (19/03/21)

Evil: I’m just gonna vote for The Endless now, cuz he was standing over the body. Endless: For the record, it’s ‘r’ to report, not ‘e’. ‘E’ apparently opens the vent…

...

*Etho moves weirdly over to Impulse* Impulse: Ohhh, did you just get a sample of the banana? Tango: *bursts out laughing* Evil: Who do you think just got a sample of you? Impulse: Etho just did a little round-a-rosey on me. Tango: WHAT did I just walk into?! Impulse: *laughs* Tango: Is this what happens on proximity chat when I’m not around?! Impulse: Yeah. Brody: OH yeah. Impulse: Etho was just getting a taste.

...

*Astro being ejected* Skizz: Walk the plank, Astro! Astro: Oh, I will. Skizz: But if he’s innocent then I’m gonna feel bad… Astro: No, I’m just a really terrible killer, that’s all.

...

Joker, to Impulse: You know, it’s a good thing you came and did this one, because I would’ve thought you were sus. But you did- Impulse: *kills Joker* Joker, echoey ghost voice: -that one because- AW, C’MON!!!

...

Joker: I’m a crewmate, man. I’m nobody. I’m nobody. I’m not important. Endless: You’re important to me. Joker: Aww, thanks, buddy. Endless: You’re not really, I was just saying that.

...

Skizz, running away from Impulse and Joker: IT’S MR BANANA AND THE CLOWN!!!

...

Mrs Tango, out of nowhere: I’m gonna vote for Endless. Endless: Why?! Impulse: Cuz it’s a fun thing to do. Tango: Cuz it makes him mad.

...

Etho: Somebody would have to have lied. Tango: Wait, wait, someone LIED?! In AMONG US?!

...

*Tango is being voted out solely on Skizz's information* Brody: Tango, if it makes you feel any better, I wasn’t paying attention and I didn’t vote for you. Tango: That’s cool. I feel better. Skizz: It’ll keep you warm out in space. *Tango is ejected* Skizz: Okay, I really… I kinda took a stab there, I hope I’m right. Impulse: Oh, Skizz! SKIZZ! Brody: Wait hold on, you TOOK A STAB?!

...

Brody: I’m done with my tasks. Impulse: *runs into security* Brody: Impulse is gonna come kill me. Impulse: Nope! *runs out* Impulse: *runs back into security* Brody: Impulse IS gonna come kill me. Impulse: *runs out and comes back in again* No, I’m- Brody: Okay, Impulse IS gonna come kill me. Impulse: *runs out again, laughing* Brody: Okay, bye!

...

Skizz: There’s no garbage on the ship because of me. You’re welcome. Brody: That’s not true; Endless is still here. Endless: *sigh* Brody: Did you see what I did there? Endless, I called you trash. Endless: I’m not talking to you anymore, Brody. You win. Brody: I called you trash. Endless: I’m not talking to you anymore tonight. Brody: You see what I did there? I said he hasn’t done trash cuz he hasn’t cleaned you up. Endless: Okay, can everybody leave for a second so I can kill Brody?

...

Endless: *returning from break late* Very very sorry, guys. Impulse: No worries, no worries. Evil: Were you saying goodnight to your daughter? Endless: No, my cat, actually. Evil: Oh, your CAT! Endless: My cat was- It’s hard to explain. Etho: Is your cat going on a business trip?

...

Impulse, going to electrical first: Okay, I haven’t done this in a while. Let’s do it. Let’s see if it still holds tru- Joker: *kills Impulse* Impulse: YEP!

...

Mrs Tango, after finding Impulse’s body: While I was doing wires in the hallway, Skizz and Impulse were together. Etho: *gasps dramatically* Skizz: You- You got it wrong. Tango: So I was in medbay and heard Impulse talking, so obviously can confirm he was there. I did not hear who he was talking to. Sounded casual, like, you know… *pointedly* Like how you’d talk to someone you’d known for 20 years.... Skizz: OKAY, enough outta you!

...

*Skizz is wrongly ejected for Impulse’s murder* Impulse: Skiiiizz…! Skizz: *sigh* Yeah? Impulse: Hoooow?! Skizz: That was just- That was Tango luck, dude. Impulse: Tell me you didn’t have a role. Skizz, sheepishly: Well, I'm… I'm- I’m… imposter. Impulse: *GASPS* Skizz: Yeah, it’s just bad luck.

...

Joker: *calls a meeting* Tango’s trying to kill me! Brody, disbelievingly: Okay. Tango: No he’s right, I am.

...

Joker: Anything I say doesn’t matter, does it? Skizz: THAT’s an understatement.

...

Tango: It’s Joker, Skizz, or Etho. That’s my guess. Joker: I just said it’s not you, Tango! Doesn’t that count for anything?! Endless: No.

...

*Skizz’s body is reported* Etho, sadly: Hey everybody. My partner in crime- My partner in crime is dead. In medbay. Tango: Awwww :( *pause* Etho: WHO DID IT? WHICH ONE OF YOU DID IT?!

...

Tango: I left and went to pump the gas in storage and then came back to electrical cuz I’m like “I need a partner” and he’s dead, so… Endless: No, you left because you didn’t say hi and you came back to say hi. Tango: That was the time before, man. Endless: Was it? I don’t remember things.

...

*Mrs Tango was convinced the last imposter was Etho but it was Brody* Endless: MRS TANGO! You’re as dumb as I am! Evil: *bursts out laughing* Impulse: :O Etho: Ohooooo…! Endless: I HATE this game. Brody, laughing: That’s HURTFUL! Impulse: Aaaaaand this is the last Friday night Among Us, people! I hope you guys’ve been enjoying this!

...

Skizz: I don’t like it when I’m wrong. Impulse: Then don’t be wrong.

...

Brody: Etho? Etho? Impulse, running by: Ooh, hi, party. Etho: I’m AFK. I’m AFK. Brody: You’re not A-! Wha-? Impulse: I’ll protect him, I’ll protect him. Etho: Okay, I’m back. I’m back. Impulse: Aww okay, I was gonna protect you. Etho: I’m AFK again.

...

*after Joker sheriffed Tango but Skizz reported* Etho: Just one question, Joker. Why didn’t you report the body? Joker: I was gonna leave it, honestly. Etho: That’s kinda bad etiquette for the sheriff…

...

Impulse: How did nobody see that? Etho: I saw it. Impulse: Oh, you did? What happened? Etho: I’m gonna give that person a chance to defend themselves. *long pause* Etho: That never works, does it?

...

*after the game was lost because Joker deliberately didn’t finish his tasks* Joker, brightly: That was a good game, guys! Etho: I wish you’d been playing it, Joker.

...

Etho: Whoever the imposters are, they’re horrible at this. Brody: Wooow! Tango: OHOOOO! Called OUT! (Etho is later revealed as the imposter)

...

Skizz: So Etho, you were sheriff last time, right? Etho: Sheriff and shielded [by the medic]. Skizz: Yeah, I shielded you, dude! I picked the right person! Etho: I felt so powerful! *pause* Etho: ...until I killed myself.

...

Brody: Okay, people who say “gif”, left side of the map. People who say “jif”, right side of the map. Etho: It’s gife! (rhyming with strife) Joker: I actually like that. I’m gonna stick with that.

...

Etho: I am 100% the sheriff and I just saved everybody. I’m the hero. Ask my mom.

...

Evil: Brody, do you have a twinkie? Brody, with his mouth audibly full: Don’t worry about my life right now, okay?

[writerofshit]

(I mentioned briefly a story of how the Stream Team met. This is that story.)

Somewhere in Los Santos, in the late night hours of a Tuesday, a convenience store is robbed. So is one several blocks southeast. And one roughly in the middle of them both. After all, what's more convenient than 24 hour chili dogs on every other street corner?

Cash. Cash is more convenient. So are guns. Hollering, waving one to get the other. Most important, back alleys that twist and turn, snaking away from increasingly distant sirens. Three individuals find themselves running through these alleys, a couple grand each weighing their pockets down.

It's through serendipity and convenience that their paths cross.

The man from the farthest store arrives first. He's done this a few more times than he'd like to admit, so he'd had a plan. Of sorts. Cut through the park, take a few sidewalks like an upstanding citizen, under the bridge and find a fire escape to utilize from there. There aren't any that reach the ground, of course, because he's smart but not quite enough.

And so this is why Trevor is standing in an dark alley, contemplating whether or not the dumpster will give him enough height to reach the ladder, when the man from the middle store appears. He's around Trevor's height, but would probably win in a fight between them, if he were so inclined. He doesn't seem to be, though. He seems shaken, like he's not quite sure how he ended up in this alley. He's holding a gun almost gingerly, as if it might bite him.

Trevor pulls his own gun.

'dont you fuckin' try anything!'

This does not go over well with Matt. He takes a step back, and then seems to remember that he also has a gun so maybe this is even footing. He holds it aloft, finger nowhere near the trigger.

'same, asshole!'

At this moment the robber from the first store arrives, also, of course, with a gun. And a mask. And an entire purple and orange neon fucking suit, actually, topped with a white cowboy hat. It gives them a few extra inches of height they are distinctly lacking, comparatively. Somewhere in the back of his head, Trevor acknowledges that this newcomer could probably kick his and the other gunman's asses. It is not a pleasant thought.

'oh, what the fuck!?'

Jeremy sounds more annoyed and less scared than one would think, considering they've run into an alley only to find two men with guns. Two men who quickly turn those guns on them.

'who the fuck are you?'

The question surprises them all, including Matt, even though he's the one who asked. As it turns out, people have a tendency to say the first thing that comes to mind when in a stressful situation. Such as, having robbed a convenience store for the very first time and immediately finding himself face to face with other apparent robbers. It would get to anyone, probably.

'i don't want any trouble, but i've already robbed someone tonight and i don't give a shit about felony murder!'

Two lies and a truth, is what Trevor has chosen to play, for some reason. In reality, one does not rob a convenience store at gun point if one is intent on staying out of trouble. And he does, in fact, care very deeply about felony murder. Felony murder is the precise reason he'd shot a bag of Doritos and not a clerk. In his defense, the clerk had initially rolled her eyes at him, asked what exactly he thought he'd get out of this. He'd found this question rude.

The truth, of course, is that he did rob a convenience store. That did happen. No take backs.

'so did i!'

Matt and Jeremy speak so in unison it's almost scary. If they didn't know any better, they'd think the two of them had always known each other.

Trevor's gun wavers between them, unsure which is the bigger threat. The guy who clearly has zero experience with guns, or the weirdo who seems to have far too much? It's a toss up, really. So his aim pinballs back and forth, but his finger does not curl around the trigger. He's serious about that felony murder thing.

The air seems to shift, suddenly, and the sound of sirens is now growing closer. This evidently also annoys Jeremy, and they throw a glance over their shoulder to the direction they'd come from. Red and blue lights flicker past.

'shit. ok. we're all robbers, i guess, and we're all fucked if we keep standing here. who's got a plan?'

Jeremy's eyes are staring impatiently at Trevor. Eyes being the only part of their face Trevor can see. And their hands, a plastic bag in one and a gun in the other.

Trigger finger is an apt name.

He glances at Matt, still wild eyed and glancing back and forth. No, Matt probably does not have a plan. He sort of gives the impression that he's never had a plan ever, actually. That perhaps he'd simply woken up here and decided to wing it. So Trevor makes an offer.

'fire escape?'

There's another moment of tense silence. Well, minus the sirens. And oh, helicopters. Even better. Jeremy shrugs.

'good a plan as any.'

And then they're off, brushing past Trevor and hoisting themself up onto the dumpster. He knew it could work. Trevor blinks and Jeremy has caught the ladder, is quickly working their way up. Shit, how does five foot something manage to get that high on a good day, much less in this situation and with a bag and gun in hand?

Matt's gun clatters to the ground, and honestly, that's probably for the best. He's climbing onto the dumpster now, and he mutters something about not signing up for this shit. Trevor reminds him that he apparently robbed someone, so yeah, he kind of did.

Before Trevor climbs up, he shoves his gun into his jacket pocket. Smart? Probably not. Convenient? More so than climbing with a gun in his hand. He follows Matt up the ladder, wondering what happened to his plan. Yeah, the ladder had been involved. Two other people, however, were not.

Above them, glass shatters.

'warning, maybe!?'

'oops. careful, there's glass.'

Jeremy's voice is no longer directly above them. Instead, it comes from one story up and a little to the left. So they've broken into an apartment. Sure, add breaking and entering to the list of charges, that sounds great. But Matt and Trevor follow, because there's not really another option.

Inside the apartment, Jeremy's mask is gone. The suit is quickly disappearing as well, revealing a rather boring outfit of a white tank top and...sweatpants? The true mystery lies in where the cowboy hat has gone to, because that's a hard item to miss.

'do we really have time for this? don't you think someone might, oh, i don't know, wake up and call the cops?'

Trevor doesn't mean to hiss, it's just that he's sure there's more pressing matters to attend to than an outfit change. Continuing to flee, perhaps.

'nobody's gonna wake up.'

They don't even have the wherewithal to lower their voice. It registers to Trevor that Jeremy's bag and gun are missing as well. Had they dropped them on the way up? It was certainly possible. Trevor thinks he would have noticed a gun flying past his head, but there's a lot going on.

'can we maybe not kill anyone? he brought up a good point with that felony murder thing.'

It's the most words Matt has strung together since he'd shown up. It's damn near a whisper, but at least it's progress.

'i'm not- god, can you two shut up? i gotta make a phone call.'

Jeremy yanks the door open, hand carefully wrapped in the fabric of their shirt. For a moment, Trevor thinks they're leaving and steps forward to follow Jeremy. Instead, Jeremy turns and heads toward the kitchen, pulling open a drawer and digging inside it briefly. They come back with a cell phone.

Something dawns on Trevor.

'is this- do you live here? did you break your own window?'

Jeremy doesn't answer. They put the phone to their ear.

'you're gonna wanna hide whatever you've got. and try not to look like you just climbed in through a window.'

And then-

'hello? yes, hi, i'd like to report a break in, i think? i was hearing a bunch of sirens and then i don't know what happened but some guy just broke my window? he ran through and i just- my friends and i are really scared and we didn't know what to do- yes, we're ok, he's gone, but we- you'll send someone? ok, thank you. the address? oh, uh, it's the del perro heights building, apartment 7. should i shut the door? no, don't touch anything. ok- guys, don't touch anything, she said someone's on their way to check on us! thank you so much- no, i think we'll be fine. thank you.'

It's a marvelous performance. Jeremy genuinely sounds like some poor flustered victim of a crime. Trevor would applaud if he thought Jeremy would appreciate it. Almost immediately, their voice is back to normal.

'check things out my ass. they're gonna show up, ask which way he went and never call me again. feel real fuckin safe.'

Jeremy settles themself onto the couch, choosing the spot closest to the door. Matt, who has apparently gotten over his initial terror, wanders into the kitchen. Searching for something to distract himself, if Trevor had to guess. Trevor is still standing in the middle of the living room, dumbfounded. How did a simple robbery become hanging out with other robbers, waiting for cops to show up?

'i'm jeremy, by the way. they won't ask, but y'know. just in case.'

They're flipping channels on the tv, seeming to arbitrarily skip almost a dozen programs. Finally, they settle on one and stand. Trevor recognizes it as an old Disney movie, and desperately wants to ask why the fuck Jeremy has put this on.

'uh, hi. i'm trevor. why are we watching Mulan?'

'matt. oh hell yeah, i love this movie!'

He sounds remarkably cheerful, considering the circumstances. How Trevor had seemingly switched places with Anxious McGee is beyond him. He needs to get it together. He pulls his gun from his pocket and takes it to the kitchen, sticking it in the drawer Jeremy had taken the phone from. There are several other phones of varying price point. He steps back to the living room just in time.

'that's why.'

They don't elaborate. Apparently Trevor is meant to just figure this out on his own, which ordinarily he might be able to do. After the course of events of this particular evening? Not a chance.

But he can't ask, because now there's a cop in the doorway and he's staring at Trevor and that will never be a good thing. Trevor stares back. He has no clue what he's meant to say. Hello? Welcome? He went that way?

'oh thank god! we've been so terrified, we didn't know if he'd come back or what he'd do.'

Naturally, Jeremy has taken lead on this. They're a phenomenal actor, Trevor has to admit.

'did you see which direction he went?'

'toward the stairs, i think. we've all been rooted to the spot, you know, it's so scary-'

Matt freezes in the doorway of the kitchen. He's just out of the view from the front door.

'right, well. you boys did the right thing by calling. can you give me a description of the man?'

The corner of Jeremy's mouth quirks.

'gosh, it all just happened so fast. taller than me, probably, but shorter than you, wouldn't you say, trey?'

Trevor nods, because he's not quite sure what else to do.

'alright, thank you. someone will be in touch with you for an official statement. in the meantime, if you remember anything else don't hesitate to call.'

He's holding a card out to Trevor, of all people. He takes it carefully, like if he does it wrong somehow the guy will know and arrest them all. The card is simply the number for a tip line.

As suddenly as he'd arrived, the cop is gone and they're all breathing sighs of relief. Jeremy closes the door.

'you guys can stay for Mulan, if you want.'

So they do.

Trevor asks about why Mulan again, and Jeremy explains that they assume most people have seen it, could answer any questions about it if they came up. Perhaps, if LSPD officers were less incompetent, they would have. Although if that were the case, they wouldn't be LSPD officers at all.

Matt asks about the window, and Jeremy says yes, they did break their own window. Of course they'd had an actual plan when they'd entered the alley. They were always going to end up exactly here, give or take the extras. Asking for a plan was simply a test, determining the merit in bring them along. They'd passed.

Jeremy asks if they want to stay for Mulan II, which is apparently up next. They do.

Somewhere in Los Santos, in the early morning hours of a Wednesday, three convenience stores are recovering from three separate robberies. Right in the middle of them all, their respective robbers are sitting on a couch together, watching a straight to video children's film.

It is the beginning of something far greater than any of them can imagine.

[karalovesallthegirls]

“Is this going to become unpleasant? Having Kara here?” “I’m not a child, Arthur. I can be in the same room as my ex-wife without causing a scene.”

“I know, dear, I know,” he soothes in that grating voice of his. “I just want you to be comfortable.” His grip on her arm is anything but. She smiles through the discomfort like always and places a hand affectionately on his chest. “I’m certainly not comfortable,” some old hag Lex invited chimes in. “I can’t believe they even let that creature in here.” It takes all of Lena’s self-restraint not to deck her clear across the face. To stand there with a placid smile while her present company disparage the woman she’d once vowed to have and to hold till death. It’s been a year since the divorce and it hasn’t gotten any easier.

“Now now, can we please be civil?” she hears behind her, and again she’s forced to focus all her energy on maintaining an air of indifference as her darling brother arrives. “That thing was Lena’s wife for a while, after all.” His smile is anything but kind, his figure imposing as he steps in close. “Yes, well,” Lena says with a passable smile, “we all make mistakes, right?” Arthur laughs and the hag laughs and Lex puts a brotherly arm around her to pull her in close, close enough to whisper against her ear without drawing attention, “Let’s not make anymore, hmm?”

He squeezes her so hard he nearly breaks skin.

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

Their story goes like this: They fall into a mad sort of love, one that consumes and surrounds and heals. They marry in the spring with flowers in their hair.

They finalize their divorce before the leaves brown and fall.

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

Lena manages to avoid Kara for most of the night.

Partially by her own efforts, partially from Arthur intervening. No one wants another Lena-Kara cat fight, not tonight at least. While it can be fun to watch the former spouses quibble over politics, tonight is meant to be a celebration honoring the most important thing in this world, something so important no drama should overpower it: Lex. Lex is running for senate. They announced it earlier in the week to great approval and support. Arthur figures he’ll spend a few years working the senate before making a bid for president. They’ve already written the campaign slogans.

“I’m so honored you all came here to join me for this momentous occasion,” he says, and he smiles at the crowd with equal parts affection and disgust, though perhaps only Lena can recognize that second part. “We stand here now at the precipice of a historic moment – an end to the horrendous occupation of our planet. To freedom from otherworldly invaders.” As if on cue, all eyes turn to Kara. The lone alien in a room full of bigots. Everyone knows who Kara is, of course. Even those who somehow missed the great identity reveal know her by her scars. Even in the face of hatred, she stands tall. Unwavering. Staring down the man who wishes for her demise.

“It’s amazing, the hubris. We can’t even have a moment’s peace at a banquet, can we?” Lex says, earning a round of laughter. Lena stares steadily ahead at him. She can’t stand to look at Kara right now. “I’m here as a concerned citizen, Mr. Luthor. Nothing more.” “Of course, as a citizen,” his voice drips with disdain. “Well then please, stay. I support all of my great state’s citizens. I’m a man of the people, after all. I represent all of my human constituents, but please. Enjoy the lobster.” The night moves past that temporary discomfort, and Lena almost finds herself settling into it when, of course, her ex-wife approaches.

“Mrs. Danvers,” Kara greets her, and she rolls her eyes like always. “Always a pleasure to see you.” “It’s Ms. Luthor now, Supergirl. Surely your alien memory can recall our divorce.” “My mistake. Sometimes I forget you’re really a Luthor,” she smiles, like she’s trying to joke with her. “You’ve got so much hair, after all. Your genes haven’t quite kicked in yet.”

Lena doesn’t smile. Doesn’t do anything more than stare. She can see Arthur in her peripheral vision stepping closer, but she holds a hand up to stop him. No need to cause a scene.

“Do you need something or are you just here to harass me?”

Kara just shakes her head, stepping back. “I apologize. Just wanted to say hello to an old friend before I left.”

“We aren’t friends, Supergirl. Feel free to leave now,” Lena sneers with a dismissive wave of her fingers. That is finally what does it – Kara gives her one forlorn glance before exiting the ballroom. The crowd around Lena snicker as she departs, and Arthur lays a too-large hand down on her shoulder.

"Security should have never let her in, love,” he says, genuinely apologetic. “What do you say we forget this unpleasantness and dance?” He doesn’t wait for an answer. He takes her hand and leads her out to the dance floor and she smiles at him, with the burn of unshed tears at the back of her eye, and together they dance.

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

This is how their story plays out to the public: Lena Luthor marries Kara Danvers and, unknowingly, she marries Supergirl.

Kara Danvers is Supergirl – something she didn’t know, something the world didn’t know until human hero Lex Luthor reveals it. When he heroically saves her from her mistake. Everything she has built as a human crumbles in one fell swoop. The legality of her marriage – the legitimacy – is questioned. How could an alien love a Luthor? How could a Luthor love a Super? Should humans and aliens even be allowed to marry?

Lex Luthor is released from prison with a pardon, and the anti-alien movement gains traction alongside him. There’s talk of voting out the Alien Amnesty Act and making public its list of intergalactic immigrants.

Lena files for a divorce, one the press lovingly reports on how it is in no way amicable. Kara Danvers stops existing as a reporter, as a person.

Lena takes her place beside Lex, leaves everything she ever built with Kara behind. She takes back up the mantle of Luthor and all that it entails. The world sinks back into its own bigotry, rolls back rights hard won. Lena falls in love with someone new – Arthur White. A family friend and loyal employee of Lex Corp. Gossip magazines love to talk about their romance, but always mention that Lena wants to take things slow. She’s in no hurry to tie the knot again.

When asked, Lena denies ever knowing Kara was an alien.

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

Lena finds a moment’s solace in the bathroom.

There’s something soothing about the rhythmic routine of scrubbing soap into her skin, under her nails, over and over like maybe the motion will be enough to fully wash her clean. She hasn’t felt clean in a long time. The bathroom door opens behind her but she hardly notices, too focused on her ritual.

“Lex is always such a charmer,” she hears from behind her, and of course. Of course, it’s the person she’s so adamantly avoided all night. Of course, they’re alone together. Not that Lena is ever alone anymore. “Sometimes I almost even buy the crap he says.”

“You know, I told Arthur I didn’t need to extend our restraining order but you’re making me think that maybe I should,” Lena says without looking up from her hands. Again and again she rubs them together under the water, scrubbing until her skin turns red. “You need to leave.”

Kara doesn’t leave. Worse, she locks the door and slowly approaches.

Lena looks up at her reflection in the mirror in alarm, eyes wide in terror, and she shakes her head frantically, mouthing ‘no’ repeatedly as Kara draws ever closer. Kara pulls out an earpiece from her ear and holds it up to Lena’s. “Listen,” Kara whispers. Her front presses gently against Lena’s back, bumping her into the sink. Lena grips the sink in a white-knuckled hold.

Through the earpiece, soft echo of someone quietly sobbing plays out. “Brainy’s looping this audio over your bug,” Kara whispers against her other ear. “They can’t hear us. To them it just sounds like you’re crying alone in the bathroom.”

“You can’t be sure,” Lena barely breathes out even as she sinks back against her former spouse. “Lex-” “Isn’t listening. I promise. Trust me.”

That really is all it takes. Lena will always trust Kara.

She’s turning and shoving before Kara can say another word, pressing her against the wall with a desperate kiss. It’s frantic and dirty, both of them gripping at each other like they don’t know where to touch, like any minute someone will catch them and it’ll all be over. “Baby,” Kara breathes against her lips, and Lena nearly melts. “My love.” Lena just moans in reply. Licks into her mouth, desperate, trying to work her hand underneath Kara’s gown, trying to take advantage of every second she’s allowed to be near her, but they’re both distracted by the rapid beeping coming from Kara’s communicator.

“We’re out of time,” Kara gasps against her. Lena shudders at the feel of her lips moving against her own. “Dammit, dammit!”

She pushes away from Lena with an anguished sigh, running a hand over her mouth. Lena leans heavily against the bathroom stall trying to catch her breath. “We have twenty seconds until the loop ends,” Kara announces, looking at her cellular device.  “Listen, I’m going to come for you, okay? This isn’t over. Don’t give up. We just need a little more time but he is not going to win. Just stay strong, my love, okay? You have to believe me.”

She kisses Lena’s forehead, then her mouth. Lena tugs her in for a longer, frantic kiss, like she’s scared to let her go. “I love you,” Lena says, because she doesn’t believe it. She doesn’t believe they can beat him. But she does believe in this: “I love you so much, Kara.” Kara kisses her again, then again, then the beeping becomes too much to ignore. With one last, lingering look, she turns and vanishes in a quick gust of wind, leaving Lena alone in the bathroom. She takes just a few moments to get herself back together. Wipes her face clean, her eyes dry. Washes her hands once more. When she steps out, Arthur is there waiting. He holds his arm out for her to take, and she loops hers through it. His grip is tight as he leads her back towards the main hall. “Crying in the bathroom?” he says, voice low. “How embarrassing, Lena.” The mask she wears falls back into place at that as the high of Kara is shattered. “We all have moments of weakness, Arthur. Let’s just go back to the party.” And so they go.

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

Theirs is the story of two factions facing off in a cultural war.  

This is how their story goes for years and years, told through newsprint and blog posts and gossip whispered on the streets. Their story of lovers turned enemy, of humanity versus the other. Luthor and Super, alien and human.

But the real story, the truth hidden by all the gossip and hearsay, is so much worse. Beneath it all, theirs is a love story.

[sugaabooga]

Aim and Shoot Your Shot

Pairing: Taehyung x Reader

Genre: fluff, conartist!Taehyung, assassin!reader

Word count: 1.9k

Warnings: PG-13, mentions of blood, guns, death, scam artists, video games LOL (nothing to gorey or serious tho), some cursing, very inaccurate descriptions of assassins-ish/scam artist missions

Synopsis: It do be Valentine’s Day.

Gunshots fire. Bullets whizz past your cheek. The stench of fresh blood reaches your nostrils. And yet. As you walk through the blood pooling at your feet, you don’t flinch.

Your hand is steady, resting on the trigger and ready to turn the corner.

BAM.

A clean headshot is fired and you’re thrown back with spurts of blood shooting out your neck onto the dirt floor.

“Damn,” you mutter, roughly tossing your mouse aside at your 20th death.

“How the hell are you an assassin with a KDA of 6/20/3?” a voice snickers through your headphones as you lean back into your swivel chair and shut off the game client.

“Real life and games are different, I guess,” you shrug.

The line abruptly goes dead making you straighten up in your chair in confusion. “What?” you mutter, checking up on the headphone cords and pc wires.

“You gonna sit there all day?”

You whip around to see Taehyung, your group’s main conman, and your partner in crime. Literally.

“We got a call,” he says, tossing over your hat and mask and cooly walking out the door. You slip on your cap and mask, pulling on a black jacket over your all-black look, and shove on your white sneakers.

“You have got to teach me better aim,” you mutter as you hop into the passenger seat. Taehyung scoffs as he starts the van’s engine, driving towards the Kim family’s mansion where your team was stationed to take action at the shady networking party.

“Says the sniper,” he shakes his head.

You sigh. “I don’t know what it is. It’s just not the same.”

At the sudden silence, you glance at Taehyung’s side profile, never able to get used to his perfectly sculpted face as his eyes intently focus on the road before you.

“What’s the matter?” he suddenly asks, briefly meeting your eyes before turning right back onto the streets. You flinch at the unexpected interaction and shake your head.

“N-Nothing,” you hum. “Is… Eunji going in with you today?”

Taehyung nods. “She always does for these cocktail parties.”

“Right,” you mutter under your breath.

You don’t know what you have against Eunji. She had joined the team a month after you finished sniper training and attending the main missions. 

She took on the role as a con woman alongside Taehyung, acting as his plus one at these types of rich people events you guys attended.

Despite their visual charisma when Eunji held onto Taehyung’s arm and they both flashed their blinding smiles, Taehyung had always worked with you the best through the mere earpieces. He was good at flattering others and extremely observant, using his quick wit to navigate the areas. You were good at keeping him in check, giving clear, specific orders, and watching his back.

The two of you had effective communication as he gave signals through your binoculars for you to make the first shot. After one specific instance where Taehyung had experienced massive injuries and laid right under one of the notorious gang members, you had sniped the guy right off of him and weirdly, things started to change between you and Taehyung. Your friendship grew stronger despite the field of work the two of you were in and you found the both of you often relying on each other.

But nevertheless, Eunji was good at acting just like Taehyung which automatically earned her the position as the main con artist and appear as the perfect wealthy young couple at parties and business affairs. You had been ignoring the green feeling you got every time you had to watch them through your binoculars but it was becoming increasingly difficult.

Taehyung stifles a laugh, immediately catching your attention.

“Are you jealous?”

Your eyes widen at the unexpected question that makes your heart race in nervousness. “Why would I be jealous? Of who?”

Taehyung shrugs, an amusing smirk plastered onto his stupidly handsome face. Before you could retort, Taehyung stops the car towards the wooded area hidden from main traffic and hops into the back to change into his suit.

You snap out of your confusing emotions, reminding yourself that you were in on an important business deal with the infamous Kim family who believed Taehyung and Eunji was the Shin family from France.

You quickly retrieve your weapons and materials from the trunk and nag Taehyung to safely carry out the mission and not be rash like he often was. He responds with a mischievous smile and a flick to your forehead before heading towards the hacker, Kim Namjoon’s van to take note of any security obstacles and important individuals.

You quietly run through the back route that you had analyzed on the way here and make your way up to the building labeled Building B. You shove in your earpiece before setting up your equipment, keeping a sharp eye out for any suspicious movements around you. Dealing with the Kim family was always risky business.

“Testing. Cinnamon buns. Testing.”

You snort. “Wanna go on a cinnamon bun date with me, Yoongs?”

Yoongi, the other experienced sniper currently stands on the opposite building from you, setting up his own materials. He ignores your comment, as usual, and focuses on the main hall of the mansion.

“Honestly, I always thought you guys looked cute together,” another voice adds with a snicker that you join in on. It was always too fun teasing Yoongi.

“What!?” Taehyung nearly yells into your ear making you grimace at the sudden loudness.

“Taehyung. Please,” Yoongi grits. “And shut the hell up, Park. Make sure you don’t end up knocking out the wrong man.”

That had happened before.

“Is Taeji in?” Jungkook, the new recruit in charge of hand to hand combat, interrupts the mild banter through the earpiece.

You refrain from rolling your eyes at the combination of Taehyung’s and Eunji’s names that your dumb team members came up with and listen quietly to Yoongi’s confirmation of observing the main entrance.

“Jimin,” Yoongi suddenly interrupts the silence. You scan the ballroom and spot the man in question who was, as always, flirting with a random woman for absolutely no reason except shits and giggles. “You aren’t here to pick up a one-night stand.”

You let out a short laugh as you see Jimin tense up indicating his entire body’s suppression of rolling his eyes. He successfully maintains his signature eye smile in front of the bashful female bartender who slips him a napkin. Probably with a set of numbers written on them.

“Security system is officially down,” Namjoon informs. “Taeji, Y/N. Standby at target.”

You quickly get into position, peering through your gun at the tall glass windows on the side of the target room. Once you make sure it’s in place, you use your binoculars to keep a close watch on the surroundings. You sweep over Taehyung and Eunji’s positions as they converse with some of the guests at the ball.

“Kim Seokjin entered through the side entrance doors,” Yoongi reports.

“Naturally get out of the conversation,” Namjoon instructs. “Kim approaching ten o’ clock about 100 ft away.”

You watch Eunji tug on Taehyung’s arm and lean close to whisper something in his ear.

You roll your eyes. Was that really necessary to get out of the conversation? You knew Eunji harbored feelings for Taehyung and always made it a point to be extra touchy on missions where they were required to enter as a couple.

You sigh as Taehyung gazes down at her with his playful grin and wraps his arm around her, quietly saying their excuses to the guests and taking their leave to “coincidentally” bump into Seokjin.

“Y/N,” Yoongi’s quiet voice calls.

“Listening,” you murmur.

“Remember. Don’t shoot unless it’s a life or death situation.”

“Got it,” you assure him, remembering that one time you had accidentally pulled the trigger during a winning fight. Good thing you had missed it because that would’ve been an extremely difficult situation to clear up.

Namjoon instructs Taehyung and Eunji to lead Seokjin into the back room where the transaction was scheduled to take place.

“How is someone so evil so good looking,” you say once you get a proper look at the man’s visuals as he follows after Taehyung and Eunji without any suspicion.

Eh, Tae’s more of my type. You think.

Yoongi rolls his eyes when he sees Taehyung’s jaw tense at your words that had accidentally spoken through your earpieces.

“Make a move if you’re mad,” Yoongi snickers as you scoff believing it referred to you while Taehyung jolts in surprise.

After a flashing light signal, Taehyung naturally walks towards the windows, slowly drawing the blinds closed just in case any rival gangs or crews were also present on the scene. Namjoon and Yoongi were watching the room from their respective visible places while Jimin and Jungkook were getting ready for any surprise attacks a few meters from the door. You stay still in position, taking this time to stretch your limbs since you didn’t have a visible line of sight.

A few minutes pass in silence which was quite normal for these types of meetings. It’s only when these business transactions get gangs involved that things go haywire and blood is shed.

“Shit,” Taehyung’s familiar timbre voice comes in through your headpiece. You immediately grow tense as Jimin quickly asks about the condition of the situation.

“Transaction is complete,” Namjoon quickly clarifies. “I don’t know why Taehyung cursed. Yoongi and Y/N stay in your positions till the Kims completely exit. Taeji and Kook, hurry and head out into your vans. Jimin hang around for about twenty more minutes. Don’t end up in a motel tonight.”

Jimin giggles as he walks back out into the main ballroom. “I’ll try.”

“Geez Tae,” Jungkook sighs, walking out towards the back of the mansion. “I thought I had to bust in.”

“Sorry,” Taehyung says, walking out through the back still in his suit and practically glowing. He fidgets with his watch and fiddles the knife stuck around his hip. “Did you guys realize it was Valentine’s Day tomorrow?”

You turn away, putting your binoculars aside as Eunji suddenly perks up expectantly at Taehyung’s random inquiry.

“Y/N,” Taehyung calls with hesitance.

You sigh, kneeling at your gun and peering in through the scope just in case. “I’m here.”

Unfortunately.

“You free tomorrow?”

You pause, leaning back from the gun. Was he trying to make fun of your single ass?

You don’t realize that just twenty feet below you, Taehyung awkwardly paces around as Eunji squints her eyes and huffs away to her respective van.

“Tomorrow?” you ask in confusion. “You tryin’ to have a galentines or something because obviously I do not have any pla-”

“Dumbass. He’s asking you out for Valentine’s Day,” Jimin suddenly interrupts, immediately sending both Taehyung and your faces to flush red.

You gulp. “As in-”

“A date,” Taehyung finishes. He nervously peers up at the building you were standing on top of earlier. He’s able to spot your dark figure. You turn around, somehow meeting Taehyung’s eyes as the mansion’s lights illuminate where you both stand.

“This is nasty,” Jungkook mutters with a sigh, hopping into Namjoon’s van.

Ding.

“This isn’t what I meant by making a move,” Yoongi sighs, tossing aside his water bottle after taking a swig. “Public confessions are a thing now?”

You look away, digging into your back pocket for your vibrating phone.

Tae: Go out... with me.

You intake a sharp breath, looking down only to see Taehyung typing away.

“You’re just salty that you’re lonely,” Jimin hums back at Yoongi, entering the ballroom with a flirty grin directed at CEO Shin’s mistress.

Tae: I like you Y/N. Wanna be my valentine?

“Fuck you,” Yoongi deadpans.

You: :3 teach me how to aim?

Taehyung grins, looking back up to see you peer down at him from the ledge.

“FOREVER AND ALWAYS!” he yells with a boxy smile.

“We’re literally going to die,” Namjoon groans.

[masterjedilenawrites]

The Sniper and The Medic: Chapter 7

Starring: Crosshair, OC Joan Vo, Tech, Hunter, Wrecker

Chapter Warnings: Mention of injury, mentions of bullying

Taglist: @proadhog @skippyhopperwisdom

AO3 Link (In case you like it better over there, it’s okay, no judgement)

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Chapter 7: On the Mend

It was a full week before Crosshair saw Joan again. She canceled his check-ups, so he could use the time to rest instead, and Tech served as the messenger to report on his healing progress. And he was progressing, thankfully. The pain eventually subsided and by the end of the week, he didn't have to actively think about breathing anymore. As long as he was careful with his stretching and other movements, he was almost good as new.

In addition, their ship had finally arrived, and much to everyone's relief, Hunter stopped the simulation runs in favor of working on the craft instead. They outfitted it with all the tools and weapons they could get their hands on, and each took turns piloting through the storms of Kamino. They weren't allowed to break the atmosphere, but it would only be a couple short weeks before they were officially deployed anyway.

Crosshair found himself at a mental crossroad. They were getting ever closer to the moment he'd been waiting for his whole life, the day he finally got to leave this forsaken place. To say he'd hated his time here would be an understatement. The experimenting and the bullying and even the way it smelled.... He couldn't wait to finally be free of it. To be on real missions, not simulations. To see real trees and feel real dirt. To use his marksman skills, the only thing he was good for, to do something important.

But then there was Joan. There was hardly a moment he didn't think about her. He couldn't help it. She was unlike anyone he'd ever known and he couldn't get enough. Her voice, her smile, her gentleness, her confidence. Going a week without seeing her had been hard; he wasn't sure what he'd do the day he'd have to leave, and probably never see her again....

A sudden snapping noise came by his ear, forcing him to shake away his confused thoughts and turn with a scowl. Tech was scowling back.

"You didn't hear anything I just said, did you?"

Crosshair hadn't even noticed him approach. They were in the hangar, Hunter and Wrecker arguing nearby about what to name their ship. Hunter wanted The Marauder because it sounded "slick." Wrecker wanted The Havoc because it sounded "badass." Crosshair was staying out of it. And Tech had been gone for most of the day.

"Where've you been?" he asked.

Tech readjusted the pack he had slung over his shoulder with a huff. "If you'd been listening... I was doing some research on Felucian Gelagrubs in the library."

Crosshair almost started tuning him out again, until his brother looked up with a playful smirk.

"And then I ran into Doctor Joan. She was wondering if you were well enough to take her up on that deal yet?"

"What deal?" came Wrecker's voice, muffled by some food he was chewing on. Apparently he and Hunter had finished their argument and were more interested in this new conversation.

"Cross promised to teach Joan how to shoot once he felt better. I told her you were feeling much better, and she said she'll have a few free hours tonight if you're interested."

Crosshair wished he could smack the smug grin off Tech's face. And shove that turkey leg down Wrecker's throat to stop his howling laughter. Only Hunter wasn't making fun. If anything, he looked confused.

"But she knows how to shoot," he said with a frown. "She's told me...."

Tech shrugged, starting to walk toward the ship's ramp. "Maybe she wants a refresher?"

"Or she wants to cozy up to Crosshaaaair," teased Wrecker.

Crosshair felt his face growing flushed. He was about to snap at them for being idiots, but Hunter intervened.

"Okay, that's enough. I'm sure Joan didn't mean anything by it..." Hunter paused with another frown. He didn't sound convinced; in fact, he sounded concerned. But then he shook himself and gave Crosshair a nod. "If you want to help her practice, fine by me. Just make sure you help us with the paint job before you go."

Hunter gave the ship a fond tap on its hull.

"What name are we going with?" asked Tech.

"The Havoc Marauder."

* * *

Crosshair made it to the simulation room before Joan. He programmed it to Felucia, inspired by Tech's mention of it earlier. It was another green planet, but with stranger-looking flora and a mist that hung low in the air.

"This your favorite?" came her low voice. It was a little raspier than usual; maybe she'd been talking a lot that day.

Crosshair swallowed down a wave of nerves that threatened to overcome him. It was so nice to see her again after so long apart.

"It's a good challenge," he shrugged. "Decreased visibility. Uneven terrain. Hostile flora and fauna."

Joan stood beside him, looking around. She was wearing the same outfit as last time and had her hair braided back. A standard-issue DC-15A blaster rifle was strapped across her back.

"Did you steal that from a reg?"

She didn't laugh like he'd hoped, but she did have a faint smile. She swung the rifle around and held it firmly, confidently. "It's mine. Most medics were only given pistols, but my troop let me have this one."

"So you do know how to shoot," he said.

Joan lifted the rifle to her shoulder and aimed up at one of the simulation targets on a tree. She fired and made the hit.

"A straight shot with no stress or pressure, I'm not bad..." She then grimaced. "But I was never good in an actual firefight. They only gave me a gun for self-protection. The rest of the time I just focused on tending wounds, let my brothers take care of the cover fire."

Her use of the term "brothers" did not go unnoticed to Crosshair, but he didn't comment on it. He nodded his head and brought out his own gun. It was a much superior model than hers, but he wouldn't show off. Not too much, anyway.

He led her to some higher ground and got to work, teaching her what he knew, just like she had taught him the week before. He went over posture and breathing. He threw in some facts about angles and trajectories. He had her find an "anchor" for herself, a way that she would always hold the gun and her body, so no matter the situation, she could fall into that comfortable position. And he took any opportunity he could find to place his hand or his arm around her.

This was his life, things he'd engaged with for years and years. And even though he only had mere hours with her, he wanted to share as much as he could.

Joan was a good student. She wasn't the best shooter, but by the end of the night, she had made some improvement. She was no longer hesitating with the trigger and managed to take down a simulated Acklay despite being scared of it. That was a win in Crosshair's eyes.

When she finally showed signs of fatigue, he turned off the sim and sat with her on one of the benches along the walls. They sat in silence for a brief time, and Crosshair was grateful she didn't seem uncomfortable by it. He let his head rest against the wall and closed his eyes.

"Is Tech okay?" she eventually asked.

His eyes reopened, only so he could furrow them in confusion. "Yeah, why?"

She shrugged and stifled a yawn. "There were some... uh, clones bothering him in the library earlier. Wasn't sure if it upset him."

"He didn't mention it," Crosshair said with a clenched jaw. He really hated when the regs messed with his brothers, especially Tech.

Joan shifted to better face him. "He's a hard one to read. Most of his visits, I'm answering his millions of questions about human anatomy. He only puts stats on his chart. Like that assignment I had, to write things about yourselves? He drew a diagram of his body with arrows pointing out his height, eye color, body fat percentage...."

She chuckled softly and Crosshair found himself joining in. That sounded like Tech, alright.

"I don't know. I just want to make sure he's not really hurting inside. You were the one I thought I had to worry about. Wrecker wears his emotions on his sleeve. Hunter's guided by duty, so it's easy to predict what he feels."

"And me?"

"You put up walls. Which I get. It's hard to be... you." She cocked her head with a knowing look. "But when you respect someone, you let them in. And from there you're an open book."

He frowned. "I am not."

"You kinda are though," she laughed. "I can always tell by your tone when you like certain things or not. Scowling is your default, but when you're really upset your jaw clenches. And..." she looked down in her lap with a small smile, "you blush sometimes when I talk."

Crosshair's eyes widened in horror, which only made her laugh more.

"It's okay. It's... flattering."

He gulped. Her cheeks were pinker than usual as well, but that must have been from the training they just did. Surely....

"I'll, uh... I'll keep an eye on Tech," he stuttered. "He'll be fine."

"Good." She clapped her legs and stood up. "Well anyway, I won't keep you up much later. Thank you for the lesson. It was fun."

He stood, too, and decided to say, with a shake in his breath, "I hope it won't be another week before I see you again?"

"Well, I guess I should take another look at that little wound of yours soon."

"Tomorrow?"

Her smile faltered, ever so briefly, and Crosshair panicked. Was he sounding too eager? 

"Sure. I should have some time... three o'clock?"

He nodded with an internal sigh of relief. She let her gaze linger on his for just a moment more, and he started to think maybe, just maybe, she had been blushing after all. Maybe there was a chance she liked him back.

He hoped she did. But at the same time, he knew it would only make it that much harder to leave....

[queenofnohr]

Fate/Grand Order Saito Hajime Line Masterpost

Gotta pay my respects to the Shinsengumi as always.

I really do recommend reading these along with a video showcasing his lines if you don’t have him since his voice acting is phenomenal and also some of what he says is clearly like... under his breath or there’s a tone shift or whatever (for example, his lines with Okita sound rather harsh if you’re under the assumption he’s always speaking directly to her).

As always these lines aren’t in the order they appear in on his card page, but the order you’re most likely to hear them in.

One other note is - I left “makoto” untranslated when in direct reference to the Shinsengumi flag/ideals. Makoto means “truth” and it would still work translated as that, but within context it means... more than that. Not just truth, but ideals, what it means to be Shinsengumi, etc. and I thought cutting it down to simply truth was doing it a disservice.

Summoning: Hajime Saito, Captain of the Shinsengumi’s Third Division here. You can call me your beloved Hajime-chan. Wait, no, like I thought that’s no good. So you’re Master-chan, huh? Well that explains the look on your face. Oh, right, I’m not great with formalities so… with that, regards to ya.

Level Up 1: Thanks a bunch, Master-chan. Level Up 2: Thanks for that.

Ascension 1: How do I look? Pretty swanky, right? I looked like this back in the day since I was a police officer. I’m pretty used to wearing Western clothes because of that. Ascension 2: Oh, these swords? This one is a wakizashi, and the other is a naga-wakizashi. The longer the wakizashi the better, and the Commander encouraged me by saying, “That suits you surprisingly well!” …...Ha, a sword suiting me.* Ascension 3: To think there’d come a day when I’d wear this again…… A lot of things happened, but in the end I came back. It’s been so long, and no time at all…… There’s nothing more to say. Ascension 4: Thank you, really, for sticking with me this far even though I’m like this. What’s with this? I’m not the type to get all choked up. There must really be something wrong with me. …...Anyway. I’m entrusting my sword to you. —Hajime Saito, Invincible Blade and Captain of the Shinsengumi’s Third Division reporting in.

My Room Generic 1: Are you heading out? Then I’ll tag along with you. What? I won’t get in your way, so do as you like. My Room Generic 2: I’m no good at serving under people, I’m no good at not serving under people…… I just go with the flow. If I force it, it’ll just leave. My Room Generic 3: So I’m your subordinate, huh, Master-chan? Since I’m a Servant. But, sorry, I won’t go to my death. What’s the saying? If a human dies, they lose. My Room Generic 4: School of swordsmanship? Nah, I don’t do anything like that, I just swing my sword around carelessly when the time comes. It’s not anything as impressive as a school of swordsmanship. Well, if I had to call it anything it’d be the “Invincible Style.” There’s no theory to crossing swords in the first place. It’s just something I’m crazy about. That is, killing each other.

With Okita: Well, if it isn’t Okita-chan. You doing okay? What, can’t a guy ask what’s up? You always were Ms. Sickly after all. Well, in any case it’s a relief we’re on the same side. It was only you I never wanted to meet again…... With Hijikata: Vice Commander, you still…… No. It’s fine. It’s better if you stick to your “makoto.” Just as I must try to overcome my “makoto.” With Izou: So that’s Man-Slayer Izou, huh. His sword skills are certainly a big deal. Calling him a genius is no exaggeration. But the most important thing - the ability to get on in the world - is something he totally lacks. It’s all over when you die. With Ryouma: Ryouma Sakamoto of Tosa. I didn’t think I’d see you here. But if you’re not an enemy I guess I’ll thank you. That’s right, you always were quite the charmer. By the way, can you introduce me to the beautiful woman accompanying you? …...Huh? I have a bad feeling about this. With Musashi (any version): So even Miyamoto Musashi and Sasaki Kojirou are here. What’s with this place? Can a minor swordsman like me even get a day in the limelight? With all these legendary swordsmen around…… For once I wish I was on the other si�� Woah, that was out of character for me. I’d better quit while I’m ahead. With Okita Alter: You’re Okita-chan!? Nonono, what’s with that look, what’s with that sword, what’s with those tits!? …...Huh? “As an Alter it’d be better to call me Majin-san”? Wow, I have no idea what you’re talking about. Whatever. By the way, how about a drink tonight? We can eat soba or whatever too. With Kagetora: So the great war hero of Echigo is a woman, huh. But Nobunaga is also a woman, so that’s not really surprising…… No, isn’t it normal to be surprised!? But, well, it seems people also thought Okita-chan was a man……

Likes: Stuff I like? That’d be playing around. I mean I look like a freeloader, right? That’s really how I am. …...Eh? You can see it? That’s unexpected. Oh, that’s right, you know the croquette soba I ate at the cafeteria? I like that. Dislikes: Stuff I hate? I’ve always been bad at dealing with stubborn guys. Weren’t those types all around me? I don’t know who you’re talking about. The Vice Commander? Oh, he isn’t stubborn. —It’s more like he’s pure. Holy Grail: The Holy Grail? It can make whatever you wish for come true? Wow~ That sounds shady even to me. Well, “don’t knock it till you try it,” and all. So why don’t you try it? If it works out, I’ll try it too.

Bond 1: Master-chan? There’s no need to worry about me, right? I’m just a guy who sides with the strong and gets carried along with the tide. No, really. Bond 2: Haa~ you’re so serious Master-chan. Aren’t you tired of it? Though even if you wanted to run away, you couldn’t. There, there, it’s okay; I’m in the same boat too. Bond 3: Look, at the end of the day, I didn’t follow the Commander or the Vice Commander. I’m an unreliable guy. So, Master-chan, don’t care about me and use me as you like and throw me away when you like. I’d like for it to be like that, too. Bond 4: —Huh? Oh, sorry. I was thinking. What, it’s not a big deal. I was wondering if it was okay to just go on as things are now. Then, I decided. That I’ll go as I am now. Don’t worry, since I’m one of the Shinsengumi that survived. Bond 5: My “makoto” is only my own. It’s the “makoto” of freedom that isn’t bound to anyone. Master-chan…… No, Master. This is my true nature. Serving someone and swearing my loyalty to them doesn’t suit me. So I will help you in accordance with my “makoto.” As long as you remain you.

Event: “Woah, looks like an event is going on. Shouldn’t you get out there? You should play while you can, ‘cause you can’t play when you’re dead. I’ve said it for a long time now, “Life is short, so play around while you’re young.” Right? Birthday: Oh, you’re here. Your birthday is today - congratulations. …...That said, I didn’t get you anything. Sorry, but I’m not that thoughtful. Oh, that reminds me - I’m not saying this is a substitute, but are you going to eat soba? If so, I’ll treat you to croquettes.

Battle Start 1: It’ll be fine, after all you have the invincible Hajime-chan on your side. …...What? Battle Start 2: Well, I hope these guys are weak. Battle Start 3: I’m Hajime Saito, Captain of the Shinsengumi’s Third Division. If you want to flee, flee quickly. …...Well, I won’t let you escape, but even so.

Card Select 1: This one? Card Select 2: ……Okay Card Select 3: Yeah, yeah

Attack 1: Hah! Attack 2: There and there and there! Attack 3: This is how to use a sword! Attack 4: There we go. Attack 5: Take this! Attack 6: There!

Extra Attack 1: Dodge it? …...You can’t! Extra Attack 2: Hoy, hoy, hoy, hoy…… it’s over! Extra Attack 3: Sorry, but this is as far as you go. …...Die.

Skill 1: Well, let’s take it easy. Skill 2: Now then, shall I kill? Skill 3: I got too carried away.

NP Select 1: I’ll show you…… an invincible blade! NP Select 2: Well then, could you step back, Master-chan? NP Select 3: You think you can take this sword? …...You’ll die if you do.

NP 1: It doesn’t matter what technique you use. Only the strong will win. …...Like me— Haugh! NP 2: Good grief. Well then…… Here I come! —This is…… the end! NP 3: Without form, it is intangible, flowing, it is infinite, and thus my sword is— invincible!

Damage 1: Oh shit! Damage 2: Ouch! Damage 3: Are you for real!? Damage 4: tch!

Defeated 1: There’s no way I could lose…… They always said I was the Invincible Blade…… Defeated 2: It was my rule to never lose a match…… I’ve lost my edge…... Defeated 3: Sorry…… Everyone……

Victory 1: My rule is to never lose a match. That’s what it means to be invincible. Victory 2: *sigh* That was an unexpectedly troublesome job. Master-chan, are you safe? Victory 3: Right, arrest anyone who’s still breathing! Third Division, withdraw!

-

* History lesson! While this could be in reference to Kondou Issami (the Commander in question), his talking about being on the police force gives me reason to believe he’s talking about his time after the Shinsengumi as Fujita Gorou (he did serve as part of the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department until he retired in 1890). In that case, this story in particular is about he was the only person authorized to carry a katana (naga-wakizashi are almost identical to katana) after the fall of the Tokugawa. It also puts his tone shift in perspective when listening to the line itself - he goes from relaying a work story to reflecting on said story near-bitterly because of course a sword would suit him. After all, he was a part of the Shinsengumi (which his boss would not know about).

[elenamiria]

The Naboo Sun

Obi-Wan X Reader

Obi-Wan leaves with Master Qui-Gon Jinn to Naboo for their mission. When the mission goes wrong you’re there to help Obi-Wan pick up the pieces, in whatever way you can. 

Read Part 1 - Part 2 here (though not necessary)

Word Count: 7.89k (OOF, it was almost longer but I split it into two)

Warnings: Angst (i’m so sorry😭), Mentions of death, p in v sex, loss of virginity (though it is glossed over), unprotected sex (don't be silly wrap your willy in real life), fluffy ending

We have plot! It’s mainly relationship building as this is the first time we’ve really explored the reader character! I hope you all like it and don’t worry there’s still some good stuff in there  🥰

Also this is officially going to be a series, I already have the next part planned out and currently my plan is to do a few chapters per each important time period (If there are any specific clone wars episodes you want covered let me know)  Tags: @fishswimbetterunderwater @blxwjobsforclones​ @a-dorin​ @obitwo​ (if anyone would prefer not to be tagged just let me know :) )

Obi-Wan was unable to come see you after he had received his orders as he and Master Jinn set off without delay. You were left wondering how long they would be gone and to get the answers you sought you questioned your Master. He didn’t have much information, or he just wasn’t willing to share, only that they were sent to Naboo for negotiations with the Trade Federation and no - he didn’t know how long they would be gone.

You had been in the middle of training when Obi-Wan and Master Jinn had returned. Training was put on pause as your master, Mace Windu, was called to the council for their report. You tagged along hoping to get to see your fellow padawan for even just a few moments, though you were forced to wait outside the chambers; but it wasn’t as if you had anything better to do, Master Windu had made it clear that you would continue your training when he was finished. You aimlessly paced, pausing occasionally to take in the bustling city outside the window - being in the temple it was easy to forget that there was a whole world around you. Finally the chamber doors opened and you turned hopefully, a gleeful smile crossing your face when your eyes met the blue of Obi-Wan’s, who couldn’t help but shoot a grin back. He turned to his master and Qui-Gon gave a brief nod before continuing his path forward, “I’ll be waiting for Anakin to arrive at the front of the temple”.

Obi-Wan nodded and turned to you as you tilted your head, “Anakin? Have you made a new friend Kenobi?”

He offered a small smile and charming laugh before shaking his head, trying to figure out where to start. “Well, I suppose you could call him that. He’s a boy we found on Tatooine, he appears to be very strong with the force and Master Jinn believes he should be trained.”

The two sides of you had started walking down the long hallway outside of the council chambers, rather mindlessly, but at his statement you paused turning towards him confusedly. “Tatooine?? I thought your mission was to Naboo for negotiations?”

“Ah, yes. Well those were cut rather short as the Trade Federation tried to kill us and once we escaped we had to rescue the Queen. However the federation occupation prevented us from traveling directly to the palace so we had to travel through the planet core with help from the a rather unusual Gungan. Once we rescued the Queen we were attempting to come back to Coruscant but sustained damage forcing us to land on Tatooine, which is where Master Jinn met Anakin.”

You looked at him incredulously for a moment as he had said everything so matter of factly and the absurdity of how a simple mission had derailed caused you to burst out into laughter. Obi-Wan wasn’t sure what had caused your laughter and nervously tugged at his padawan braid, hoping you weren’t laughing at his semi-failure of the mission. It took a moment for you to stop and when you managed to look at him with a straight face you suddenly felt bad at his rosy cheeked shy expression. Your hand flew to his shoulder in a comforting gesture as you stuttered out, “Oh no, Obi-Wan! I wasn’t laughing at- I just...I don’t know you made it all sound so simple when in reality it sounds like complete chaos! You clearly did very well considering you were completely blindsided by the Trade Federation.”

At this Obi-Wan’s nervousness faded, he wasn’t sure why he thought you were mocking him in the first place (or why the thought of it bothered him so much as in the past he would have simply made fun of you back), and an easy grin fell into place drawling, “Darling you haven’t even heard the half of it! We’re fairly certain we encountered a Sith.”

Your jaw dropped shock once again covering your face, “I thought the Sith died out?”

He was about to answer before you continued abruptly, face softening and hand sliding down his arm to squeeze his hand, “Thank stars you made it back safely!!”

He smiled sweetly at your words and was about to reply before a loud voice called out to you. You turned to see the Council leaving the chamber, your master standing a little ways from the entrance waiting for you. Sighing you dropped his hand and turned back to Obi with a warm smile, “I better go. I don’t think I can weasel my way out of finishing my training with him.”

He laughed a little and nodded, “Go on, hopefully I’ll see you later. Though the council will be testing Anakin tonight though so it may not be until very late.”

As you were about to respond Mace called out to you again and you winced slightly before giving Obi-Wan a teasing wink as you turned to jog towards your master.

As you warmed back up with a few basic stretches you decided to question your master on what Obi-Wan had shared with you. Though you were most curious about the possible re-emergence of the Sith you also were curious on the councils thoughts on this boy from Tatooine. Casually breaching the topic you simply asked, "So this boy they found, do you really think he's as powerful with the force as Master Jinn says he is?"

Your master turned to you as he warmed up as well, "We have no reason to doubt him, we will be testing the boy tonight so We shall see then if he is as strong with the force as Master Qui-Gon believes."

Nodding, you crossed your arm over your body and gently pulled it with your other hand to stretch your shoulder before continuing, "Will he be trained if he is strong with the force?"

Mace sighed, “To be honest Qui-Gon is set on this boy being trained despite the fact that he is far too old to begin training, all we can do is meet the boy and see if he possesses the right disposition and abilities to be trained.”

You nodded thoughtfully as you ignited your saber and started practicing basic stances and swings, “And who would train this boy, surely if he is strong with the force he would require a great teacher to speed his learning?”

Mace shook his head, an amused smile at your probing falling onto his lips before indulging you with a reply, “Well, we have to see if the boy is fit for training first and we’ll go from there. Now, my padawan time to focus on our training.”

Despite his urging to focus the thoughts of a possible sith roaming around gathered in the forefront of your mind. So, as you both prepped to spar you let another question slide innocently out of your mouth, “Is it true the Sith are back?”

Your master gave you a disapproving look before beginning his attack without responding. You parried fairly easily but you knew your master was simply warming up. This only being confirmed as he finished his attack pattern and stating, ‘good, now faster’.

You continued for a few moments, blades moving in opposition and clashing lightly, until Mace pulled back after you locked blades for a few moments - though he could have easily used his superior strength to win the mock battle right there.

You backed off as well trying to anticipate his next move but were startled when he attacked again, this time putting much more of his strength behind his movements. You could sense he had shifted into his preferred style of Form VII in which he had declined to train you in, the moves coming at a rapid speed and much stronger than before. You fell into defending his attacks with tight movements but struggled to find an opening to attack him back. You were quickly being pushed back and after blocking a particularly brutal swing, which made your muscles strain with the power of preventing any impact, Mace swung around to attack your other side which you were just barely able to block. In doing so your footing faltered and seeing a weakness your master slammed into you with his shoulder sending you sprawling to the ground. His saber swung around in a twirl before the tip came to rest just above your throat and your breathing stuttered in shock, you had never been taken down so easily, and the heat of the blade scorched your face. Neither of you moved for a minute and the room was silent apart from the hum of his saber and your panting breath. Finally, Mace deactivated his saber looking like he had taken a light jog whereas you felt like you had gotten hit by a speeder. Groaning you took in how sore your body was, your hand rose to rub at your sternum where you took the hit, Mace had never pushed you that hard before and it was clear you hadn't been prepared. You left an annoyed huff leave your body, though it was only at yourself for letting your guard down as well as your lack of offense throughout the fight. Your Master bent down a bit and held his hand out which you gratefully took, though your shoulders twinged when he pulled you up. Wincing you stretched out your arms and Mace broke the slightly tense silence, “I’m sorry, I should have warned you first Padawan. I didn’t mean to hurt you, I just-”

He trailed off with a sigh, looking away and you tilted your head curiously. When he didn’t seem to want to share any further you spoke. “It’s alright Master, while it’s clear my defense is...proficient it appears I need to work on my offensive abilities. Perhaps we could run through attack drills next?”

Mace offered you a smile before clasping your shoulder lightly, “I think we’ve done enough for today and the council will want to meet soon about the boy. Perhaps tomorrow.”

You snorted and gave your master an amused smile, “It’s not like you to turn down my request for more practice, but I’ll gladly take it Master.”

The two of you shared another smile and he started to walk to collect his robe before you called out again, “What were you going to say earlier?”

Mace turned towards you with a small groan, he wasn’t one for admitting his thoughts especially when they revealed soft feelings. He stayed silent for a moment, debating whether or not you would push the issue before remembering you always pushed issues (you were notoriously stubborn). You met his gaze with kind, perceptive eyes, which reminded him why he had taken you as a Padawan in the first place and he caved. Sighing deeply he looked down before admitting, “I was only pushing you that hard because if it’s true, if the Sith have returned, I want you to be able to handle yourself.”

A bright smile covered your face at his admission, you had a feeling it was something along those lines, “With a master like you the Sith wouldn’t stand a chance,” you teased. Though as Mace went to respond (probably to remind you that he had just handed your ass to you) you cut him off with, “Thank you, Master. Truly, for everything you’ve taught me”

Padding towards him you picked up your robe and you were shocked when he pulled you into a very brief hug, pulling away before you could even react his hands rested on your shoulder - an affectionate smile on his face. “Go on before I change my mind about training. And, try to stay out of trouble.”

You sat on your bed flipping through the holobook on Sith you had borrowed from the archives when a rapid knock startled you. Getting up to see who it was you quickly made your way to the door, opening it to reveal Obi-Wan who quickly pushed past you into the room. The door hadn’t even slid shut before he began talking, “The council is sending Qui-Gon and I back to Naboo with the Queen. We’re leaving now but I couldn’t leave without seeing you, there’s not much time, I told my master I had to grab something from my room.”

You laughed as you made your way to him and pulled him into a soft kiss but Obi grasped your hips pulling you as close as possible, deepening the kiss. His tongue swiped against your mouth and you opened to him with a moan. You allowed your lover to explore your mouth as he squeezed your hips harshly, low growl leaving his throat. After several long moments of making out you pulled apart, lips puffed from the force of your kiss and your breath came a bit faster. Swallowing breathlessly you looked up at Obi-Wan with sweet eyes, he smiled and pressed a kiss to your forehead whispering into your skin, “you look beautiful”

Laughing, as you were just dressed in your sleep clothes and hair mussed from your pillows, you affectionately cupped his cheek, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips you gave his braid a small tug as you whispered, “you better go before Master Jinn grows suspicious.”

Obi laughed at this as he pulled away, “If I’m being honest I don’t think he bought my excuse for a second.”

You linked hands as you walked a few steps to the door, tenderly kissing the back of his hand, you again stroked his face. Your brow furrowed as you grew serious, feeling uneasy as you uttered, “Obi, please be careful.”

He pressed another kiss to your forehead before humming an assurance and pulling away through the newly opened door. You watched his retreating form, smiling as he turned to wave at you; but as your door slid shut the smile fell from your face. A pit grew in your stomach as you could feel something on the edge of your perception. The force was swirling with a darkness you hadn't felt before and you couldn’t help but feel that something terrible was going to happen. As you turned into your room the uneasy feeling growing you finally identified why you were feeling so sick to your stomach, you were afraid.

Letting out a shaky breath you made your way back to your bed and sitting on it, making yourself comfortable. You closed your eyes and focused on breathing hoping to meditate on your feelings and come to peace. As you began your meditation you could only hope that your intuition was wrong, though you couldn’t shake the feeling that had settled over you.

At some point you had fallen into a restless sleep though you woke early. Unable to fall back into slumber you went through your morning routine and settled with a cup of tea to continue your study of the Sith. Several hours later a curt knock on your door roused you. You were already dressed in your typical attire of over sized loose white blouse and tan high waisted trousers, so you pulled your boots over the pant legs and attached your saber to your large brown belt as you answered the door, already knowing it was your master. As the door slid open you began to talk, having practiced what you wanted to say while you were reading, “I want you to teach me Vaapad, I know that’s what form you were using yesterday and I would like to learn more about it.”

You were met with Mace’s impassive face as he stared at you for a moment. Sighing he turned as you joined him to walk towards the training room. “No, you know it’s dangerous. Besides my Padawan, I do not believe you have the anger nor passion inside of you necessary to fuel the form.”

You didn’t take offense to his words, knowing the passion he talked about was a warped version, but continued your argument. “I may not have the anger inside me but if at some point I did fall into it I would like to know how to productively channel my emotions.”

Quirking a brow at you Master Windu countered, “Preparing to be angry at some point? Should I be concerned?”

You laughed slightly before growing serious, “Last night I felt something dark in the force, it was barely a whisper but I felt it. I couldn’t figure out what it meant and...that made me afraid. I meditated and that abated the feeling, however I want to be prepared in the case that it turns out to be something I can’t shake.”

You chose your words carefully not wanting to concern your master unnecessarily, “I also feel it would be beneficial as yesterday I could defend against the form but I couldn’t find a way to shift to attacking. I feel if I learn at least the basics I will have a better understanding how to effectively fight against it.”

Mace wanted to groan, you made sense and your preparation for his counter arguments left him with little room to disagree - apart from using the ‘no, because I said so’ argument. With a semi-annoyed look he grumbled out, “Remind me why I wanted another padawan.”

You laughed heartily at this knowing you had won the argument, “I believe you picked me because I was ‘a quick learner and I didn't seem like too much trouble’.”

You imitated his voice for the last part and as your master gave you the look while you gave him your best innocent face. You would have continued your teasing if not for reaching the training room. Mace gave you another half-hearted glare before conceding, “Fine, I'll teach you but only the basics. Then I would like for us to focus on Form V I feel it’s best suited for you.”

You trained for the rest of the morning, breaking for lunch and afterwards Master Windu was called for a council meeting. You had just finished washing up when you felt the darkness creeping around the edges of the force again. You were intent on trying to figure out what it was when you felt something else, a deep pain and anguish. Concerned your mind flew to your force bond with your master, worried something had happened but you didn’t sense any distress- he seemed fine. You frowned, confused at what else it could be, it was then that you felt something else - a strong hate. Exhaling shakily you tried to fight back the powerful feelings swirling in you, they were overriding all your senses, but they wouldn’t leave you didn’t even know how they got there in the first place. Desperate for clarity you sat where you stood to meditate, though you focused as best you could peace would not come. Hesitantly and desperate for answers you allowed yourself to embrace your feelings though when you did that it became clear these were not your emotions but from someone else. It was so close yet the answer remained fuzzy. Gasping your eyes flew open with a thought, could this have been Obi-Wan? You weren't aware of you two sharing a force bond though granted your force signatures always seemed to dance in tune with one another but that was to be expected when you were so close. Thinking for a minute you decided to tackle this situation like any other, by gathering as much information as possible to remain prepared. Gathering yourself you headed to the Jedi Library knowing you would be able to find what you needed.

It was there that Master Windu found you, reading intently, several hours later. A grim look on his face and the gentle hand on your shoulder told you all you needed to know, as you had read your suspicions had grown. Looking up at your master and shutting the book you asked, “It’s Master Jinn, isn’t it?”

For a brief moment Mace’s eyes widened and he looked as if he wanted to ask you how you knew but he plowed forward with why he was there - time being of the essence. “Yes, Master Jinn was killed by the Sith. However Kenobi fended off and killed the Sith. The council is going to Naboo and I’d like you to come with us. I believe Padawan Kenobi will need someone by his side to offer support and compassion, while he is very strong the dark side is always a concern, especially when such a devastating loss has occurred.”

You nodded and rose gathering your robe and the holobook. Mace informed you that they were leaving shortly and to meet him at the front of the temple as soon as you were ready and you would be meeting the Council as well as Senator Palpatine at the landing platform by the senate. You rushed through the process of gathering necessary travel essentials, making sure to bring the holobook about force bonds with you, and hurriedly made your way to the speeder Mace was waiting for you in. Once on everyone was on the ship and on the way to Naboo your master made his way to you, intent on questioning how you had known of Master Jinn’s death. Hesitating and weighing your options you concluded your best course of action would be to divulge what you believed to be going on and so you informed him of your probable force bond with Obi-Wan. Mace nodded, seemingly unsurprised, he commented on how the two of you had always been very close and that it was probably only a matter of time, though he made sure to caution you against forming too deep of an attachment. You swallowed deeply and nodded, muttering some reassuring words and hoping he didn’t sense that you were fairly certain both you and Obi-Wan were deeply attached to one another.

When Naboo was reached you let the council and Senator Palpatine exit the ship first, following behind them you waited as Palpatine spoke with Obi-Wan before conversing with the queen. Slowly the platform cleared as the Naboo government went to prepare for the celebrations and the council began speaking to Obi and the boy next to him, you hung back not wanting to eavesdrop after all it would be up to your dear friend to tell you what he felt comfortable sharing. Overall it didn’t take very long before the members of the Council had a clear picture of the events that transpired and they left to deliberate amongst themselves. Only when they departed did Obi-Wan see you standing there. His eyes widened and he took a deep shaky breath so loud you could hear it from several feet away, when you offered him a small sad smile he broke. Your name flew from his mouth, voice cracking, as he ran to you. Arms enveloping you so tightly you were almost knocked off your feet and you returned the embrace fiercely. You buried your face in his neck as one of his hands rose to grasp the back of your head tightly as if you might disappear if he let go. You heard him sniffle softly and you knew he was attempting to keep his emotions in check, pulling back to look at his face your hands rose to clasp his face - fingers delicately wiping stray tears. You searched his eyes to try to glimpse what he was feeling yet all you found was relief and longing pooling in his beautiful blue orbs. For a moment you got lost in their depths, drowning in the ocean of his affection for you. Unconsciously your head tilted, eyes flashing to his lips, and his eyes darting to yours both of you forgetting yourselves. Just as his head tilted opposite yours and you began to close the distance a small voice interrupted you and the veil that had cut you off from the rest of the world was pulled away. You pulled away quickly when you remembered where you were, though one of your hands slid down to rest on the small of Obi-Wan's back comfortingly. When you looked at Obi a scarlet blush covered his face as he looked down at the small boy in front of him. The boy looked between the two of you before repeating himself, “You’re a Jedi too?”

Clearing your throat to clear your own embarrassment, you nodded and squatted to be closer to his level. “Yes, I am a Jedi Padawan.”

You cut yourself off abruptly having almost said ‘just like Obi-Wan’ but remembering the whole reason you were here.

“Well it’s nice to meet you, I’m Anakin!”

He replied sticking his hand out with a smile. You gently shook it and gave a kind smile back.

“It’s good to meet you Anakin, I’ve heard a lot about you.”

You would have continued your conversation but you were interrupted by your master coming to fetch Obi-Wan to inform him of their decisions. Obi-Wan looked nervously down at Anakin and you were quick to reassure him that you would watch over the boy. Your hand came to rest on Anakin's shoulder as you stood up and as Obi walked away from you both you felt a small hand rest over yours. Looking down you saw his worried face and thought of the perfect distraction for the boy, “Anakin? Would you like to go on an adventure to find our rooms?”

You questioned and shot him a big smile, he looked up at you for a second before nodding and the two of you made your way towards the building you had been told your quarters would be in. As you walked you made small talk with the boy noting his excitement over flying as well as pod-racing, he also talked about building his own droid and you couldn’t help but let him excitedly jump from topic to topic. He only paused when you stopped to ask for directions and then continued excitedly talking though his words grew softer as he started talking about wanting to be a Jedi. Once he trailed off you spoke, “Are you not excited to learn the Jedi ways?”

“It’s not that, Master Qui-Gon said he would train me and now...” He trailed off and you felt your heart ache for him.

“Though I cannot tell what will happen Ani, I promise you we will take care of you. Besides you have me and Obi-Wan to look after you now, no matter what!”

You said reaching down to ruffle his hair with a bright grin, hoping to get a smile from him. You were rewarded with a small laugh and he ducked out of your reach before you could mess his hair any further. By this time you had reached the living quarters and you found them neatly labeled in Basic, stopping at Ani’s you took note that Obi-Wan’s room was directly across the hall from him, yours being next to your fellow Padawan. The two of you walked in and you were just about to excuse yourself when the child turned towards you with a hopeful face. “Maybe, you could stay and we could talk some more?”

You couldn’t possibly say no to the sweet boy and so you sat down on the couch provided in the spacious room and patted the seat next to you. You prompted him with a question about his home and he was off again, talking excitedly about all the little details of his home and telling you about his mother. The two of you became fast friends and you were startled by how much time had passed when someone fetched you for dinner.

Once dinner had been finished and the sun had gone down you knew what was coming. The hospitality at the hands of the Naboo was above expectation, they had arranged the funeral in respect to the Jedi ways, and the group of Jedi (as well as Naboo officials) made your way to the building where the funeral would be held. You had not yet gotten a chance to talk to Obi-Wan yet and you were longing to know what was going on as you stood behind Obi-Wan and next to Anakin. You could feel the grief in the air and you watched as Obi-Wan turned towards Anakin before the boy had even sought comfort. A bittersweet smile crossed your face as Obi-Wan told Anakin that he would be training the young boy, you knew Obi was more than capable of this task but you worried on how much had been thrust on him in such a short amount of time. You had not gotten a chance to talk to Obi and you were longing to know how he was doing with all of this. You hoped he would seek you out but for now you focused your attention back on the fire blazing in front of you, remembering the kind Master who laid before you.

Coming back from the funeral was mostly silent and Obi-Wan retreated to his room without a word. Making sure Ani was tucked in and that he knew if he needed anything he could come to you before retreating to the hallway. Once Anakin's door slid shut you turned, staring at the door labeled Obi-Wan Kenobi. You went to knock but hesitated, instead retreating to your room to prepare for bed not wanting to intrude on him. Once you had gone through your whole routine you paused, walking over to the wall that connected your room to Obi’s and pressed your hand to it sighing lightly. Pressing your forehead to it you exhaled deeply, wishing you could help him, you could feeling the sorrow through your bond and then you heard it. It was as if someone was whispering to you, you focused on the tiny voice and just barely made out what it was saying - ‘I need you, please...please be with me’.

You recognized the voice as Obi-Wan’s and you knew you couldn’t let him be alone. Quickly walking to his door you knocked softly calling out his name. There was no response and you took a moment to listen and again you heard the voice pleading repeating the same words over and over. Opening the door when you received no response and cautiously walking in you paused at the sight of Obi-Wan standing back to you rigid as a board.

You had expected to hear him speaking but when you entered the room it was silent. Though the voice still rang in your head and your eyes filled with tears when you realized you were hearing Obi-Wan’s thoughts.

You padded over to him wrapping your arms around his waist tightly, he startled but leaned back into you once he realized who you were. When you looked over his shoulder you saw he had one hand tightly wrapped around Qui-Gon’s lightsaber and the other was clutching his Padawan braid. You immediately knew what he was trying to do, it was traditional for Master to remove their Padawan’s braid when they were knighted, and suddenly his thoughts made sense as he desperately pleaded for his Master to be with him.

Slipping your arms out from his waist you moved to stand in front of him, hand gently closing over the one holding his braid. His eyes had been tightly scrunched closed but opened to look at you, at his devastated expression you felt hot tears trail down your cheeks. You had to deeply swallow and take a deep breath before you could speak to ask him, “Would you like me to help?”

At your gentle words Obi’s eyes shut again and he nodded quickly. Trying to force back your tears, though they still streamed steady tracks down your face, your other hand rose to wrap around his hand holding the lightsaber.

Obi-Wan activated his fallen Master’s saber, bathing the both of you in green light, and you gently guided the blade to the top of his Padawan braid behind his ear. Taking a deep breath you pulled his hand towards you just barely, a whisper of a movement, and just like that the braid was severed.

The room was still apart from the lightsaber deactivating and his braid fluttering down to drape over your hand. Then in a sudden flurry of movement the new Jedi Knight let go of both hands to wrap himself around you.

Quickly adjusting your grip you kept from dropping either item and crossed your arms around his neck. You felt his body shaking as sobs wracked his body, finally letting go of all the emotion he had been holding back all day. You stayed there, you weren’t sure how long, allowing him to express his deep sorrow and hurt until Obi pulled away from you.

His hands came to stroke gently at your face and then leaning to graze his lips against yours, he pulled the two items from your hand before walking to gently place them on a table - staring at them for a moment longer. He walked back over to you, eyes flickering to the bed briefly but long enough for you to understand what he was silently asking.

You let your hand entwine in his and you led him gently to the bed. With soft tugs and gentle pulls you helped him to shed his clothing until he was just in his underclothes, you were already wearing your nightgown and so you pulled the covers back and slipped into the bed and Obi slid in closely after. Under the sheets your legs entangled pressing closely together and he pulled you into his chest, your hand rising to rest on his collarbone - the other laying over his waist. You rhythmically stroked his sternum until you felt him slip into slumber and when you were sure he was asleep you allowed your eyes to shut as you used your bond to project peace, something you had read in your holobook, hoping to give him a good nights rest; and at some point, draped in his warmth, you yourself fell into sleep.

When you awoke you groggily realized at some point you had changed positions, you now lay on your side with Obi-Wan pressed firmly into your back and his arm around your waist. You groaned slightly and nuzzled down into the pillow not wanting to wake up, you heard an amused laugh and felt Obi-Wan’s thumb gently stroking your tummy. You lazily tilted your head up to try to look at him but Obi was one step ahead of you and had propped his upper body up enough so that he was able to capture your mouth is a sweet kiss. You moaned softly, still not entirely awake, and his hand trailed up the side of your body coming to grasp your chin lightly to hold you to him. As the kiss grew heated you flipped to face him, just barely breaking apart before connecting lips again, and Obi took this opportunity to fluidly slide onto his back pulling you to rest on top of him.

When you finally pulled apart your eyes slid back open, having remained sleepily shut through the readjustments, and you were met with the sunrise gleaming angelically over Obi-Wan’s face. You let out a pleased sigh when he pulled your body close to him and began to trail kisses down your throat, nipping slightly, as his hands held your waist. You needed more and so you gently grasped one of his hands to slip it under your nightgown, that was all the encouragement Obi-Wan needed and his other hand followed pushing your dress up in his path to reach your breasts. As he groped at your chest, teasingly pinching your nipples, his mouth moved down to your collarbone and finally trailing to nip at your hardened nipple through the light silk covering it.

You moaned, hips grinding against his growing erection, as he teased you with both his hands and mouth.

He repeated the gentle nips on the other breast until you jolted forward ripping the dress up over your body, desperate for his mouth on your bare skin. The attention on your chest had gotten you thoroughly soaked and you could feel his hard thick length pressing against you.

With a breathy moan you trailed your hand down to palm at him through his underwear, he let out a deep hoarse groan and quickly flipped the two of you over, tearing your underwear down with your approval and a quiet growl left his throat at how soaked your underwear were. He started pressing soft kisses down the length of your body until he reached your dripping cunt and shyly you tried to close your legs but he gently grasped your thighs whispering, “Let me take care of you darling, please”

His tone was so earnest, his eyes shining with pure adoration, and so you bit your lip as you nodded - allowing your knees to fall apart.

Obi-Wan let his fingers run up and down your slit softly, gathering your wetness before finding your clit and rubbing it like you had shown him before, giving you just the right amount of pressure. Sharp inhales filled the air as you felt yourself growing wetter and when Obi licked a tentative stripe up your pussy your hand flew to his head. He pulled away slightly, worried you didn't like it, until you desperately whimpered out a plea to keep going. Obi’s mouth returned to you experimentally licking and swirling his tongue around you, listening to every cry you gave him. Growing more confident he lapped at you with a bit more pressure, teasing at your hole. As your nails lightly scratched at his scalp in pleasure he removed his fingers from your clit and tentatively sucked it, you let out a loud cry as pleasure shot through you.

You could feel your orgasm building rapidly and you panted out encouragements as he continued his motions, though this time sinking a finger into you. Gently teasing he crooked his finger inside of you, hitting something that made your vision go blurry for a second, as you clenched around him he pulled out before sinking back in this time with two fingers. Pumping steadily he pulled his head back for just a moment to catch his breath and to take in your beautiful expression of bliss.

His tongue returned as he began to gently scissor his fingers stretching you until he added a third. It was when he started swirling his hot tongue around your clit that you clenched around him, cumming and biting your hand to keep from crying out too loudly. Again he sucked lightly on your clit elevating your orgasm and drawing it out for as long as possible.

You desperately tugged at Obi-Wan to pull him away from your drenched pussy and back up your body when you finally started to fade, though aftershocks were still shooting through your body. Eagerly kissing him you trailed one hand down his body to grasp at his cock and starting a steady rhythm of pumping him. At his small groans and moans you felt yourself heating up again and so you pulled his body down on top of yours, his weight resting on his forearms next to your head.

As you continued to stroke him you let your legs part in order to press his throbbing cock to your swollen lips. His hips stuttered, a beautiful guttural groan flying out of his mouth, and as he slid up against you your lips parted, juices covering him. You both moaned at the feeling of his velvet length stroking back and forth over your exposed slit and he continued to softly rock his hips as you continued to soak him, your own hips bucking anytime his hard cock caught on your clit. Your eyes had been closed but they slid open as you whimpered desperately craving more, wanting to give him everything and you knew he would do the same in return for you.

Your hand which had been holding him within your parted lips fell back to gently push his hips so you could line up his tip with your entrance. Obi-Wan’s eyes met yours and he whispered, “My darling are you sure?”

"Yes, please Obi-Wan, I'm craving you. Please let me have you, all of you" You letting your answer slip out of your mouth as you trailed your other hand down your body and used your thumb to rub your clit.

Obi-Wan nodded, you could feel slick leak out of you at the idea of finally coming together like this, leaning down to kiss you fiercely as he slid his head into you softly. Groaning at the intrusion he waited for a moment or two, his breath coming out in hard pants as your walls gripped onto him tightly.

He could tell you were softly tensing up and so he allowed his hands to roam your body teasing you gently. As he whispered that he was going to push further in, nodding you let out a small whimper as he sheathed himself most of the way in you.

You felt a small twinge but as his hand came to rub at your clit and his mouth moved to nip at your sensitive spots on your neck your attention was drawn from that. You took a second to adjust to his size, walls fluttering around him, his cock stretched you but not in the painful way you thought it would, rather you felt full to the brim.

After a couple moments you cautiously asked him to move and gently Obi-Wan pulled back slightly before pushing back in, movements slow and minimal at first as you both adjusted to the feeling.

When you had grew used to the foreign sensation and it started bringing you more pleasure than his fingers ever could have you buried your face in his neck with a soft cry of ‘more, please Obi-Wan’.

He was more than happy to oblige hips pulling back, his cock sliding in to the hilt now as his hands pulled your thighs gently further apart. Moans were flowing from your lips now as your own hand groped at your breast while the other slid to play with your clit as you lost yourself in the feeling of him surrounding you. As his pace sped up further your eyes shut desperately anticipating your orgasm, yours was rapidly approaching as he slid in and out of your sopping cunt.

Obi-Wan's own orgasm was approaching and his hands flew to your waist to pull you into him as he thrust, hips slapping against you as you both desperately chased your release. Your legs wrapped around his back and praise spilled from his mouth - “Oh, stars, you feel incredible my love. You’re taking me so well, gripping me so tight. Oh darling, I adore you I can’t wait to feel you cum”

One truly desperate cry of his name flowing from your lips had him throwing his head back face gasping in pleasure at your gorgeous voice and his expression pushed you over the edge, knowing you were the one bringing him this much pleasure.

Calling out his name your hands flew to his shoulders gripping tightly and Obi pulled his head up to take in your orgasm.

Seeing your face as you came just for him was his undoing and he desperately pulled out, hand pumping himself rapidly as his release spilled over your lips and thighs, his orgasm coming faster than anticipated. You continued to whimper and keen out as his release dripped over your pussy causing your walls to clench at the feeling and Obi-Wan sat there, soft moans leaving him as his head was thrown back in pure bliss.

Both of you panted as you came down from your high and Obi-Wan looked down at you his softening cock weakly twitching at the sight of his cum dripping off of you. With a groan he reluctantly got up and stumbled to wet a cloth to clean you up, wanting to get you cleaned up and back to cuddling in your warmth as soon as possible. When he returned you sat up slightly and gave him a sweet smile that took his breath away.

He had to remind himself what he was doing as he gave you a brilliant smile in return and then he gently pressed the cloth to your spent pussy, wiping his cum off with soft strokes and when he was satisfied you were cleaned up he tossed the cloth on the ground.

You gawked at him calling his name out indignantly as he just chuckled and crawled back up the bed to sit next to you an innocent, “Whaat??” leaving his mouth as he pulled the covers up over the two of you, pulling you into his side.

You rested your head on his shoulder as he gently trailed his fingers up and down your side. It was still early, sun still struggling to rise, and so you sat in comfortable silence for a while having no obligations for the time being and when you felt yourself drifting off you lifted your head to look at Obi-Wan who had furrowed his brow in deep thought.

Tilting your head in concern you made a small noise in the back of your throat to get his attention, his eyes met yours and something flickered over his face as he came to a decision. Shifting nervously his other hand came to delicately clasp your hands, you made another small confused noise before pressing “Obi-Wan what is it?”

He took a deep breath before leveling his gaze and you realized what he was about to say. Grasping his hands tightly you stared at him for a second before speaking, “Obi-Wan, you know if you say this we’re breaking the code outright and there's no coming back from this.”

Your concerned words only caused a soul warming grin to cover Obi-Wan’s face as you reaffirmed why and what he wanted to tell you. As he breathed out your name softly your face eased into an adoring expression and when he sweetly said, “I don’t care, I have to tell you. I love you, with everything I am.”

You felt your heart skip a beat as your eyes got misty and you stroked the back of his hand before a wide smile broke out on your face, “I love you too, Obi-Wan Kenobi. I love you with my whole soul and you're not alone - you'll never be alone, I'll always be with you.”

The two of you shared a loving kiss, sweet and warm, as you snuggled back into each other. You both slid down back under the covers and Obi-Wan wrapped strong arms around you.

At some point Obi-Wan knew you would have to get back to your responsibilities but for right now, in the glow of the rising Naboo sun, nothing mattered but the two of you.

[sammysdewysensitiveeyes]

"Hand me that loofah."

Keeping his face carefully averted, Pyro picked up the sponge, and tossed in Fabian’s general direction.

An angry “Watch it, you idiot!” indicated that the loofah had struck it’s intended target. Then there was a low chuckle.

“I get it. You’re a married man, after all. You can’t bear to look upon me, lest you completely lose your self-control. Don’t feel bad, you’re hardly the first.”

Pyro was, in fact, struggling not to lose his self-control, but was fighting the urge to vomit.

“You should have invited me to the wedding,” Fabian continued, accompanied by splashing sounds as he apparently flopped around in the tub. “Are we not friends?”

That sentence was technically true the way Fabian had phrased it.

“Yes,” Pyro responded simply.

“But I can understand that, too,” Fabian continued. “You didn’t want to be upstaged at your own nuptials, and my presence certainly would have captured all the attention.”

“Dominic and I thought you might be a bit too busy,” Pyro said, although the truth was less “thought” and more “hoped.” “We didn’t want to intrude on your valuable time.” He was absolutely going to relay this whole horrible conversation to Avalanche tonight over drinks, with a very exaggerated impression of Cortez.

“Well, I always make time for the little people!” Fabian exclaimed magnanimously. “Hand me that towel.” Water sloshed and Pyro was hit with a fine spray as Cortez stood up in the tub. At least it sounded like he was standing up, Pyro wasn’t going to look. He grabbed the nearest towel and thrust it blindly at the demanding voice.

A hand grabbed his wrist and yanked Pyro around, so that he was face to face with a dripping, naked Fabian Cortez, with soap suds sloughing off his glistening body. It was actually a very nice body, that was the worst part, with with a “package” that partially explained the man’s unearned confidence. But the smarmy, arrogant smile completely ruined the picture.

“Looking’s free, you know,” Fabian grinned.

Directing credit, Pyro thought fiercely to himself. Executive producer.

“Why don’t I give you some privacy to get dressed?” He said aloud, plastering a fake smile on his face. This would all be worth it when show’s profits started coming in, and then Pyro would get himself and Dominic matching His and His jet-skis.

He still wasn’t entirely sure how he wound up in this position. It had started with Shinobi pitching a reality show to the Council, which had somehow, inexiplicably, gotten a majority approval vote, possibly because Krakoa hadn’t been attacked in the last few weeks and the Council was bored. It was Survivor meets the Bachelor, in which groups of male and female mutants competed to win the hand of the handsome, debonair, and, most importantly, ridiculously wealthy Shinobi Shaw, through date nights and dinners and pointless jungle challenges of strength and skill.

Pyro had just made a few innocent comments, that was all. Just a couple of suggestions to Emma, who had wound up saddled with the bulk of the responsibility, about story arcs and pairings and how to arrange scenes for maximum drama and pathos. He understood that stuff, after all, as a romance novelist it was his bread and butter. (And he was a bit of a soap opera fanatic, but he wasn’t going to admit that freely.) Emma had listened with an eager, almost hungry glint in her eyes, and there had been a short conversation that had somehow ended with Pyro agreeing to serve as a writer, director and general creative supervisor, in exchange for a percentage of the profits and fairly massive salary. (Massive to Pyro, anyway, probably a drop in the bucket to Emma “Swimming in the money bin” Frost.)

And it actually had been kind of fun. “Reality” TV presented a unique challenge, in that he wasn’t allowed to directly tell the “performers” what to say, but he could do absolutely anything else to construct his creative vision. He could ask leading questions in the talking head interviews, edit scenes by splicing completely unrelated shots together, and put volatile contestants in a room with plenty of alcohol, then poke at them until they exploded.

Unfortunately, his duties had somehow gradually expanded to include talent-wrangling both on and off-set, which left him stuck making nice with Fabian Cortez, the most “colorful” (obnoxious) and, unfortunately, most popular, of all the contestants. Iceman would probably win the show as the nice, relatable, boy-next-door type, but Fabian was what kept viewers tuning in.

“Oh, that’s quite all right,” Fabian purred. He contorted his body as he toweled himself off, appearing to pose for nonexistant cameras. “I’m a generous man, I can spare you a bit of eye candy, even if our relationship must remain professional.”

“Yes, that would be best. Listen, we need you to do another challenge with Sienna Blaze.”

Fabian’s “generosity” quickly withered away.

“I will NOT get in front of a camera with that maniac! Such an uptight, ill-mannered, man-hating – well, I’m too much of a gentleman to use the word that she so richly deserves! She nearly killed me last time! Over a simple compliment!”

Yes, Pyro remembered it well. Fabian’s near barbeque had garnered record-high ratings. And hopefully tossing them into a mud-pit together in bathing suits would produce similarly explosive results.

“Oh yes, I know, Fabian,” Pyro cooed, hating himself a little. “She’s very difficult, and you’ve been such a professional about it.” He pulled up comforting mental images as he spoke. Jet-skis. Wagyu steak. Insanely expensive whiskey. Him and Dominic having a long honeymoon in Bali, Sydney, Seoul and Tokyo. All those zeros at the end of the check that Emma had given him.

“Well, a professional shouldn’t have to put up with this kind of shabby treatment!” Fabian said haughtily. He was finally wrapping the towel around his waist, to Pyro’s great relief. “I asked for Norwegian strawberries in my dressing room, and that idiot assistant brought me French!”

“I’ll look into it,” Pyro assured him, fully intending to send Fabian the exact same strawberries (which were, in fact, grown on Krakoa) with his apologies and a fake Norweigian label.

He had a vague notion in the back of his head that Emma should be handling this, Emma was supposed to be in charge! And yet she’d gradually eased the responsibility into Pyro’s arms, only sashaying onto set once every few weeks for a “status report,” and spending the rest of the time off performing mysterious and supposedly very important duties for the Hellfire Trading Company and the Council. She never picked up her phone or responded to voice mails.

It was okay, though. Pyro could handle this. He was a damn writer, and he was good at it, and he would poke and prod his stars through the storyline he had planned, because he was absolutely brilliant. Even Emma had said so.

“Anyway, don’t worry about Blaze,” Pyro insisted, his voice dripping with sticky-sweet honey. “We’ve given her a talking to about her behavior.” He had done no such thing. “I’m sure she’ll be much nicer to work with. In fact, we think the audience will really enjoy you putting her in her place. Really demonstrate your masculine superiority.” Was that too much? They couldn’t have Fabian dying on camera, after all, even though it would be hilarious.

“Well, I should hope so!” Fabian said, rubbing lotion carefully across his pecs. “I’m obviously carrying this entire show, and I will be treated with the respect I deserve.”

“You know,” Pyro added slyly, “I think she’s actually got a bit of a crush on you. You know how some women are.” No, this was definitely too much. Oh well, they could edit around Fabian’s inevitable death and resurrection, and in the mean time they’d get some amazing footage.

“Oh, of course,” Fabian said, with a leering understanding creeping across his face. “I suspected from the very beginning. She couldn’t handle my raw sensuality.”

“Who can, really?” Pyro hated this, he really hated every second of having to pull on the polite mask of social niceties and insincere compliments. It always seemed almost obscene. May as well just flip the other fellow over and start tongueing his arsehole, right? Except that was actually fun in the right circumstances.

But he’d done it before, as a journalist dealing with self-important sources, as a novelist schmoozing with publishers and book sellers. He could do it now, for the astronomical salary that Emma was paying him, and for the Prime Time Emmy Award for Outstanding Competition Program that was hovering in his sights. Emma had assured him that it was a strong possibility. Just imagine rubbing that in the faces of all the critics who had called him a talentless hack! They’d say…well, they’d probably say that an Emmy for trashy reality TV was the highest possible honor for a hack like him, but Pyro wouldn’t give a fuck, because he’d have an Emmy and they wouldn’t.

“C’mon, then, we’ll give you a quick touch-up with bronzer. We’re shooting the scene in fifteen minutes.” Pyro began to guide Fabian, still clad in only a towel, towards the bathroom door.

“We’ll shoot the scene when I’m ready, and not a second before!” Fabian insisted. It would probably be another hour of Fabian demanding and sending back expensive snacks before they could even get him to the set. Luckily, they were actually scheduled to shoot the scene in two hours.

“Yes, of course, whatever you want,” Pyro wheedled, imagining the satisfying explosion of flesh and blood that would very likely occur when Fabian and Sienna Blaze came into contact. And Fabian was going to do it, that much was clear now. “I know you’ll do a fantastic job. You’re brilliant you know, absolutely brilliant……”

For a moment, Pyro trailed off as a crack opened in his mental wall, and memories slipped out into the light. Emma pouring more wine into his glass during their monthly meetings, assuring him again and again that he was absolutely brilliant, a true artist, that the show would thrive in his capable hands.

“No, that’s completely different,” Pyro muttered to himself, shaking his head.

“What was that?” Fabian twisted around, the towel slipping dangerously low on his hips.

“Oh, nothing,” Pyro exclaimed brightly, slamming the mental wall shut again. “Now, let’s get you into make-up, ya big handsome star!”

[thewritingstar]

Falling Back to You

Pairing: Blossick (Blossom x Brick, Reds)

Fandom: The Powerpuff Girls

Soft, sweet reds because I've been feeling angsty lately and needed a breather lol. Sorry to everyone who follows me for other fandoms, I promise Ill write more for FT (you can always leave asks lol)

Tag List: @over-under-through1 @shellielyzabeth (if you want to be on my tag list, you can find the post or dm me)

I hope you enjoy. This has been sitting in my drafts for a few months and decided to just finish it lol. 

---

“I’m surprised you don’t have your hat on.” A voice came from behind him. But not just any voice. The moment the first word left those lips, the hair on his neck stood up and sent a familiar chill down his back. It was a voice that he knew well, could distinguish in a crowd of a thousand voices, it was the equivalent of his favorite song or the taste of the sweetest thing to melt in your mouth.

“Blossom.” He said under his breath but her super hearing picked it up.

She thought she was prepared to see him, after all its been two years. That’s enough time to heal, right? But she prayed that he didn’t hear the small gasp that escaped her lips as he turned. That crisp dark red suit fit him like a glove and she spotted him from a mile away in that signature color. He looked good in red.

“Hi.” She managed to say smoothly as he took a step towards her. 

“What are you doing here?” He asked with a reluctant tone. It was only the most important night of his life. The one where he would be promoted to the head of the department, the one he busted his ass off from the ground up. Not to mention an award for a case he worked on last year. 

She shrugged and bit her lip. “My boss is here and I have to write a report for him.” Then added. “And I wasn’t going to miss the achievement you have been talking about for literal years.” She said shyly. “I promised after all.” 

And she did. Back when they had dated all those years ago. Blossom was by his side as he worked from being an assistant at the law firm to one of the most promising lawyers, and now the highest ranked lawyer, but she missed the last part. Unfortunately. 

He studied his ass off and she did too, both of them determined to outshine anyone in their paths, maybe that why they chose different companies. They had traded their childhood rivalry for a path of lust and love, a simple competition would not be throwing them down that path. In fact their jobs were the reason they weren’t together.

“You remembered.” He said under his breath. She heard it, of course. 

She tapped her foot and looked around before giving a puzzling look. “Wheres Jasmine?” It pained her to ask. 

Jasmine. Oh yes, his girlfriend who couldn’t be bothered to celebrate to most important time of his career. Or rather, ex girlfriend, As of last night where he found her with another man. 

“Not my girlfriend.” He simply stated as she nodded before taking a sip of her drink. 

It must have been good if she brought it to her lips. Blossom loved a good cocktail but if it was hard liquor, she required top shelf, something he admired. He was like that too and was the reason she only drank the highest quality. 

“What about Tyson?” 

Her eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Not my boyfriend.” She said bitterly and he didn’t know why he was happy about it. “Cheated on me for a blonde.” Her glass was on the verge of cracking before she smoothed out her dress. “Typical.” 

He hummed in agreement. There was a feeling of anger running through him as he thought about any man hurting Blossom, sure he hurt her too but nothing like that. No their fight was different, it was a fight about whats best for both of them. 

They had just under an hour before the cermony started. He didn’t want to bother being inside socailzing with a bunch of random people and he had a feeling she didn’t either. The wide open hallway was becoming stuffy and he could see a trio of men walking their way and knew Blossom would become the talking point. 

Before Brick could turn them the other way, the men were already there. 

“Brick.” The tall one spat. 

“Landon.” Brick matched his tone. What a dumb name he thought. 

Landon turned and did not bother to hide the fact that he was checking out Blossom. Of course he was. Even in her simple black cocktail dress that screamed sophistication, she was a walking dream. 

“And you are?” He gave her a smirk that could charm anyone, expcet for Blossom of course. 

Brick was pracitcally smiling as Blossom shook his hand. He knew she wouldn’t take his bait. 

“Blossom Utonium. Head of corrupt affairs at Duchess Law.” She started with what Brick likes to call her “Miss Business voice”. 

Landon smirked. “Duchess Law? Someones a smart cookie.” He winked. 

The other men behind him agreed and Blossom held her tounge. She hated being patronized or looked down on. He should be thanking the lucky stars that he’s even in her presence.

Brick could tell she was annoyed and wrapped his arm around her waist before looking at Landon. “She makes more money than all three of you combine and actally can win a case so show some repect.” He spat and he turned them around towards the back doors that led to the garden space. 

The feeling of having his arm around her sent a spark through her body. At first it felt foreign but the memories came rolling in waves as they walked.

“I could handle myself.” She stated and he hid his laugh.

“I know, but you won’t because of your repuation. I for one don’t care about mine that much.”

“Or maybe its because you still care.” She teased as she sat on the stone bench with him. 

He was about to response but his phone began to ring. He wanted to ignore it but Blossom probably would say something about it. 

“Its Butch.” He said before trying to put it back into his pocket. 

“You should anwser it. I’m sure he’s wanting to wish his brother well.”

He huffed and anwsered on the final ring. 

“Hello?”

“Hey quick question. Do you think that I would win in a fight against Thanos?” 

Brick only shook his head.

“Butch.”

“Its serious cause Buttercup doesn’t think so but I could take him for sure.” 

Blossom was holding a hand to her mouth as the guy kept going on about the stupid question. 

“Oh shit dude, tonights your night!”

“Yes it is now Imma hang up now.”

“Brick be nice.”

“Wait a minute bro. Is that Miss Blossom with you?”

“Yes because shes the only one who bothered to care.”

“Hey you’re the one who said not to come. Anyways tell her I said hi and that you two should totally get back together because you kept going on and on about how you missed her and leaving her was the worst choice you made-” The line cut dead and the phone was shoved in his pocket. 

“Hes stupid.” He mumbled and Blossom drank the rest of her drink. 

“Hes not wrong.”

He turned towards her and gazed silently. She was just as he remembered. Gorgeous and graceful and even without a word spoken, she could command a room. He admired her greatly and she felt the same. 

“Brick, can we just skip all of it?” She asked softly. 

“I’ve kinda been looking forward to my award.”

“No, not this.” She gestured to the building. “But this.” She pointed between them. 

“Skip what?”

“Oh I don’t know, the drama of it all? Because if we don’t confess now we are going to waste so much time running after each other and I-I dont want to waste time.” She looked down at her shoes. A sad sigh leaving her lips. “I just miss you.” 

The confession surprised him. They were both forward people who never beat around the bush but when it came to their feelings between them, they had always been shy. Boomer and Bubbles were easy to confess and even Butch and Buttercup seemed to have it together but for them, it felt impossible sometimes.

No matter where he turned, she was there. They had always crossed paths like star-crossed lovers and it was as if the universe was constantly pulling them together and they had tried. They really did. 

Perhaps the timing wasn’t enough or their pride had stood in the way. they never meant to fall apart the way they did but when the other side of the bed was empty, those walls they held up became transparent and it only took a mere few seconds to see what they had lost. 

But he understood what she meant. They both knew that if anything were to happen between them tonight it would start a snowball effect that everyone was tired of seeing. Over and over they would fall in line and build each other up before something came between them and pulled them apart. 

He wanted to get past all the hurdles of playing cat and mouse until on of them caved and said their feelings. But her saying she missed him wasn’t her caving, she was just tired and so was he.

They had been young when they had fallen in love. The rules of life tossing them into a sea of doubt but now they were adults who knew the game and could easily avoid anything in their paths, except each other. 

His hand slid over hers. “I missed you too.”

She smiled softly before her hand rested on his cheek. “I’m really proud of you Brick, you’ve come along way.” 

“I’m just happy you got to see it.” He whispered before his lips touched hers with a fire they both had missed. 

A swirl of fire and ice that only they knew. No matter how much life decided to pull them apart or change the course, he would always find himself coming back to her. 

The kiss didn’t last as long as he would have liked but seeing the faint blush on her cheeks made it all worth it. 

“What are you doing later?” He asked as he helped her up from the bench. 

“I was going to get take out and sit in my hotel room watching movies.” 

Brick leaned over to fix the bow in her hair, taking the time to have her close. “I don’t suppose you would accept any company?” He winked before kissing the back of her hand and handing her the red purse.

“I think I can make an exception.” She winked and he had never thought she had looked more stunning. 

She took his hand, their palms resting naturally together, before walking back to the ceremony, where he would leave with not only his award but the woman he had loved for years and years. 

--

was the ending lazy? yes. do I care, only a little bit. Lol. I’ve had a really off day so I hope this is good.

Hope you enjoyed :) 

[pikapeppa]

Felassan/f!Lavellan: Braids

Chapter 23 of The Love That Grows From Violence (post-Trespasser Felassan x Tamaris Lavellan) is posted! WITH ART THIS WEEK by the inimitable and glorious @elbenherzart​!!

~5900 words; read on AO3 here instead. 

The next day, after their usual morning routine of breakfast and sparring, Felassan decided to finish reading This Shit Is Weird. He settled one of the plush sofas in the study while Tamaris stripped the wallpaper from the study walls, and he made his usual cheeky comments on the book as he read, which kept her entertained for a time.

It wasn’t long before he really sank into the book, however, and Tamaris understood why: he was reading the section about the Temple of Mythal, which was followed shortly after by the tale about going into the deep roads and discovering the existence of Titans — the two parts of the book that Felassan had been anticipating the most.

By the time Tamaris’s stomach was clamouring for lunch, Felassan was still reading in a very intense silence. She padded over to him and tapped his shoulder. “I’ll make some sandwiches,” she said quietly. “Is grilled cheese and ham all right?”

He looked up at her with a smile and took her hand. “Kiss me first. To help me concentrate.”

Her belly did a little leap of pleasure. She gave him a chiding smile. “I thought kissing you helped you with your magic, not your concentration.”

“It helps me with a great number of things,” he replied. 

She tsked, then bent over to kiss him. He slid his hand into her hair and gently nipped her lower lip, and when he finally released her, her heart was fluttering like a hummingbird.

He smiled and stroked her jaw with his thumb, then lowered his hand. “Try putting some mustard in the sandwiches,” he said. “Mustard and apricot jam. Just a small amount of both.”

“You’ll take your sandwich how I make it and you’ll be happy,” she scolded.

Felassan’s easy laughter followed her out of the study, and she couldn’t help but grin in response as she made her way to the kitchen.

When she returned to the study twenty minutes later, Felassan was sitting cross-legged on the sofa and reading with a stunned look on his face. Tamaris set the tray on the sofa and sat on the floor. “Which part are you reading?” she said quietly. 

He looked up at her. “You were inside of a Titan? Actually inside of it?”

“Yes,” she said. “It was…” She shook her head at the memory. “It was fucking vast. Cavernous, literally. If not for the heart, we wouldn't have known it was a living—”

Felassan interrupted her. “The heart was intact, then?”

He looked very serious, and Tamaris eyed him cautiously. “As far as I could tell. Valta didn’t seem to see anything wrong with it, and she was connected or tapped into the Titan, or whatever it was that happened to her...” She trailed off as Felassan’s eyebrows rose.

“Valta tapped into the Titan?” he said quietly. 

Tamaris frowned. “Yes. Have you not finished reading that part yet?”

“Not quite.”

She waved at the book. “Go on then, finish reading it!”

“I will, once I’ve eaten,” he said. He put the book aside and picked up a sandwich.

Tamaris watched guiltily as he took a bite of his food. “Felassan, it’s okay,” she said. “You can read while you eat. I promise I don’t mind.”

“I mind,” he said. “I would prefer to talk to you while I eat.”

His expression was warm and open, and it lifted an answering warmth in her chest. “All right,” she said, and she picked up her sandwich.

Felassan took another bite and hummed approvingly. “You put in the mustard and jam.”

She rolled her eyes. “I wasn’t going to argue with the thousands-of-years-old chef.”

He chuckled. “It’s nice to know you respect my age, if nothing else.”

She wrinkled her nose playfully and took another bite, and Felassan swallowed before speaking again. “I see that Fen’Harel is notably absent during this adventure. He decided not to come?”

“Oh.” Tamaris pulled a little face. “Um, no. I… told him not to come.”

Felassan raised his eyebrows, and she shrugged awkwardly. “He broke up with me when we were on our way to the Storm Coast to deal with the deep roads collapse. So I told him to go back to Skyhold.” A sudden flash of a memory crossed her mind: the way Solas’s expression had melted from tender to tragic, right before he told her he had distracted her from her duty and that it would never happen again. 

Don’t look at me like that. Don’t you dare fucking look at me like you ever loved me. Her own furious words rang in her ears, and for a split second, she felt like a stone had dropped onto her diaphragm.

“Ir abelas,” Felassan said quietly.

She blinked and looked up at Felassan — beloved Felassan, with his clear purple eyes full of tenderness and truth. 

She took a deep breath. “Don’t apologize,” she said softly. She took another bite of sandwich and shrugged. “Honestly, it was for the best.”

“How so?” he said.

“If he didn’t trust me enough to tell me the truth after a year, he was never going to trust me,” she said. “I couldn't see that at the time, but it’s obvious now. We would never have worked out with that many secrets between us.” 

Felassan didn’t reply right away. After a few seconds of silence, Tamaris looked up to find him watching her with a little smile. 

Her heart leapt at the obvious fondness in his face. She bashfully tucked her hair behind her ear. “What?” she said. 

His smile widened slightly. Then he tilted his head. “If it is any comfort to you, you are not the only one he didn’t trust.”

Tamaris nodded. Felassan had mentioned before how strict and withdrawn Solas had become around the time that he began developing the magic to make the Veil. “What happened exactly to make him so suspicious?” she asked. “I saw some of the memories in the Vir Dirthara slandering him, but… was it really just that? The propaganda against him?”

Felassan’s expression started to sober. “I suspect I’ll be telling you and Varric in detail tonight. Which reminds me: we should invite him over, if you wish for him to know about the Titans.”

“I’ll send the raven after lunch,” she said.

Felassan nodded. “I’ll be sure to make something non-spicy for him.”

Tamaris mock-pouted. “What about me?”

Felassan’s smile chased away the melancholy in his face. “I’ll make you something spicy tomorrow.” He playfully tweaked her hair. “You are getting terribly pampered. How did you survive before you met me?”

“By eating a lot of shitty food, apparently,” she said dryly.

He laughed heartily. “This sandwich is far from shitty, avise.” He inclined his head in that regal way he had. “Thank you for the lunch.”

She smirked at his manners and took another bite, and they spent the rest of their lunch break comparing ancient Elvhen and Dalish dishes and marvelling at the similarities and differences between their cuisines. When their lunch was finished, Felassan stretched out on the couch and went back to his reading, and Tamaris sent a raven to the Viscount’s Keep before starting to wash the residual glue from the now-stripped walls. 

Washing the walls was sweaty work, and she eventually stripped off her shirt and put her hair up into a messy bun to try and be a little more comfortable. Some time later, she glanced at Felassan to find him lounging lazily on the couch and watching her with a little smile on his face. 

She wiped some sweat from her forehead. “Paint a picture,” she said teasingly. “It’ll last longer.”

His smile widened. “Come over here.” 

She raised her eyebrows. “Are you finished reading?”

He nodded. “Varric has no further reason to resent me,” he said. He patted the couch and gave her a winning smile. 

She padded over to the couch and sat beside his outstretched legs. “So? What did you think?”

“I think that Varric has spun a fine story here,” he said. “I hope to spin one for you tonight that is just as entertaining.”

“He wasn’t spinning a story,” she protested. “He was just… beefing up some parts and downplaying others.”

Felassan lifted one eyebrow, and Tamaris smiled sheepishly. “Okay, fine, he was spinning a story.”

He chuckled, and Tamaris poked his belly. “But you’ve gotten to hear the real version.”

He took her hand and laced his fingers with hers. “I do get to enjoy that rare boon, yes. Insofar as any version of a story can be real.”

She shot him an odd look, and he casually waved his hand. “Oh, I’m not questioning the veracity of your and Varric’s telling. Just commenting that there are versions of every truth.” 

She frowned. “Yes, but there are also objective facts. The facts of a story are just as important as the way they’re interpreted.”

He tilted his head. “Would you prefer for me to stick to the facts in my telling of ancient history, then?”

She hesitated. Her instinctive answer was to say that yes, she just wanted the facts. But she didn’t want Felassan to feel like she was just pumping him for information. Whatever he told them tonight was sure to put that look on his face, that anachronistically world-weary look that made her heart ache, and it would be cruel for her to force him to turn that heartache into an objective report.

Besides, she had heard what ‘just the facts’ sounded like in Felassan’s voice: his telling of the time he’d spent as a Tranquil. She didn’t ever want to hear him sounding so flat and lifeless again. 

“No,” she finally said. “You should tell us however it makes sense to you. I just… I just want answers.” She sighed. “I’m not going to like them, but… I need to know.”

“I’ll do my best to make your answers as entertaining as possible, then,” he said softly. Then he lifted his shoulders in an elegant shrug. “What is the objective truth, anyway? It is like the humans’ Maker: something that everyone insists is real, but the more you seek it, the more gaps and questions you’ll find instead.”

She snorted a little laugh. “Now you’re just trying to cheer me up by making fun of the Chantry.”

“Is it working?” he said. 

“I hate to admit it, but yes,” she said dryly.

“Good,” he said. “I haven’t lost my wily words, then.” He pushed himself upright on the couch, then leaned forward and playfully nibbled her neck.

She wrinkled her nose and waved him off. “I’m all sweaty.”

“Is that meant to deter me?” he said. He nipped the juncture of her shoulder and neck, then reached up and released her hair from its bun.

“Ugh, why?” she complained. She pulled her hair away from her neck. “You’re just going to make me sweatier.”

He playfully smacked her hand. “I’m going to braid it.”

“That’s so much work,” she protested.

“It will be worth it,” he said. “You have beautiful hair.” He shifted slightly so he was sitting on her left side, then gently combed his fingers through her hair: enough to smooth out any snags without breaking up her curls too much. 

She scoffed. “Are you jealous of my curls?”

“Very,” he said with a smile. He began carefully parting her hair to the left. 

She sighed and relaxed into his capable hands, but she couldn’t help one last playful dig. “If you leave my hair as a tangled mess, you’re going to be the one picking out the knots.” 

He tsked, to her amusement. “Don’t insult me so. I know exactly what I’m doing.” He began twisting a braid into her hair on the exposed left side, keeping the braid tight to the scalp. “In ancient Arlathan, the braiding of hair was an art. Some people spent their days coming up with elaborate hairstyles with curls, plaits, ornaments and feathers, and even horns.”

Tamaris huffed. “Just goes to show how much time you ancients had on your hands.”

“Don’t be rude,” he said drolly. “We were not so different from this time, really. Think of the Orlesians and their masks. The Antivans and their clever tailoring. Extravagant beauty of some form is a mainstay of every culture. And as with every culture, such elaborate beauty was more than just an art. For my people, elaborate braids were a sign of status.” He smoothed his fingers over the braid he’d made, which now spanned just behind her ear. “The more ornate the style, the closer you were to the gods.”

“Of course,” she muttered. Then she shot him a curious look. “What did your hair look like in the past?”

“For a long time when I was young, I wore simple braids and styles, not unlike what I do now.” He shrugged. “Simplicity befitting of an Evanuris’s household staff, you know. Then, for a time, I had no hair.”

She blinked in surprise. “No hair? Like Solas?”

His answering smile was a little crooked. “Not quite. Fen’Harel shaved his head of his own free will. The Evanuris forced us — the slaves, that is — to shave our heads.”

Tamaris frowned. “Why?”

Felassan paused in his braiding and tilted his head. “Can you imagine what it would feel like to be forced to shave your head against your will?”

Her mind conjured an image of her lustrous black curls being shaved by force by a human, and her stomach lurched. She took a deep breath. “It would feel like being stripped in public,” she said quietly. “It would be… humiliating.”

Felassan nodded and continued braiding her hair. “The Evanuris said it was to help us stay clean and hygienic. But those of us who were freed knew the truth. It was a means to subjugate us. To make it easier for them to use and discard us, once they had shorn us of that which was seen as a sign of beauty and closeness to the gods that we all revered.”

His voice was hardening as he spoke. Tamaris turned her head slightly to look at him. “Ir abelas,” she said softly.

He met her eye, and the anger in his face softened slightly. “Ma serannas,” he said quietly. He smoothed his fingers over the braid he’d made along the left side of her head, then gently squeezed her shoulder. “Turn so your back is to me.”

She did as she was told. Once she was settled, Felassan lifted a small section of her loose hair and began making a small plait. “Once Fen’Harel freed us, we could grow our hair again and wear it however we wished,” he told her. “Some choose to keep their heads shaved as a reminder of what had been done to them, and a reminder of what they had overcome. Others wished to wear marvelous hairstyles like those of the Evanuris, because why shouldn’t they? But many of them did not know how to create such styles anymore. Those of us who remembered, like myself and Fen’Harel, helped them with this.”

Tamaris raised her eyebrows. “Fen’Ha— I mean, Solas helped people to braid their hair?”

“Yes,” Felassan said. “He was highly skilled in the braiding of hair, in fact. Did he never offer to braid yours?”

She shook her head slightly. “I very rarely wear my hair in braids, though. I can’t be bothered.”

Felassan huffed in amusement. “I don’t blame you. I can rarely be bothered to do more than the simplest styles myself.” He continued plaiting small locks of her hair. “Regardless, Fen’Harel was very good at braiding hair. He had elaborate hair himself for a very long time, you know.”

Tamaris snorted. “You’re lying.”

“I would never lie about something so glorious,” Felassan said. “At one point, he had long beautiful braids reaching down to his waist, studded with beads and rings of gold.”

Tamaris turned around partway to give him an incredulous look. “Braids with beads and rings? You’re fucking kidding.”

He grinned. “I promise you, I’m not. I wish I had some of those beads and rings, in fact. They would look exquisite on you.” He eyed her hair wistfully, then shrugged and began making another small braid. “I shall ask Varric to find some for us.”

Tamaris scoffed at the frivolous request. Then she sobered. “But you said he chose to start shaving his head. Why…?” She trailed off with a frown and thought for a moment, then glanced at Felassan again. “He shaved his head out of solidarity?”

He gave her a small and slightly melancholy smile. “In support of those that he freed, yes. And in defiance of the elaborate styles of the Evanuris. He sought to divorce himself from the Evanuris — to show clearly that he was not of them. And many of the freed slaves felt more comfortable in his presence when they saw that the famed Fen’Harel looked like them, even if he had never been a slave himself.”

Tamaris nodded slowly. Then she shot Felassan a little frown. “Do you think it’s odd that Solas was the leader of the freed slaves, even though he wasn’t one of them?”

He smiled. “Do you think it odd that you were the leader of the Inquisition, even though you do not believe in Andraste?”

“Every single fucking day,” Tamaris said flatly.

Felassan laughed. “Fen’Harel did, as well. For that reason, he was always very insistent that each freed slave’s life was their own, and they owed him no fealty. I chose to become his spy, but others simply chose to live in peace in Arla’fen, or to flee to the outer edges of the empire to start a new life outside of the Evanuris’s reach — or as far from their reach as possible, in any case.” He sighed. “I have long felt that this is part of what made him so lonely.”

“What do you mean?” Tamaris asked.

Felassan lowered his hands and looked her in the eye. “Imagine an elf who was once a spirit, standing as the favoured companion of one of the Evanuris, but not being one of them. An elgar’venathe who spent much of his time freeing slaves in secret, but he was not one of them, either.”

She frowned slightly, but with a pang in her chest. Felassan smiled faintly, then stood up and sat on her right side. “The Dread Wolf trod carefully and skillfully in many worlds, but he did not truly belong to any of them,” he said. He lifted another lock of her hair and began forming another small plait.

Tamaris was quiet for a long moment as she remembered Solas’s solitude, and how he had always kept himself apart from the rest of the Inquisition…  No, wait. That wasn’t true. There was one person he’d always seemed far more comfortable around — someone other than Tamaris herself.

Cole, she thought. Solas had always been particularly fond of Cole, and particularly loquacious with him. Then there was Solas’s spirit friend in the Exalted Plains — the only old friend Solas had ever spoken of. 

She glanced at Felassan. “I think he wished he was still a spirit.”

Felassan met her gaze. His expression was pensive and a little bit sad. “I have often thought the same thing.”

“Why did he become an elf, then?” she asked. “Or, um, take a… what did you call it? Take on a corporeal form?”

“Because Mythal asked him to,” Felassan said. 

Tamaris blinked in surprise. “Seriously?”

Felassan nodded, and Tamaris gazed at him with wide eyes. “Why?” she asked. 

He gave her another sad little smile. “I will tell you tonight when Varric comes.” He leaned back slightly and smoothed his hand over her hair. “In the meantime, you should find a mirror and look at my work. You are even more stunning than usual.”

She rolled her eyes. “Uh-huh.” She stood up and made her way to the elaborately-framed mirror in the front foyer, and when she caught sight of her own hair, she stopped short in surprise. 

The left side was bound in a perfect tight braid that coursed along the side of her scalp and behind her ear, then flowed down over her shoulder. The rest of her hair lay in loose tousled curls as usual, but sections of it were caught up in tiny braids that looked like ornaments in and of themselves. 

She raised her eyebrows. She wasn’t used to seeing her hair in such a fancy style, and the contrast between the sleek left side and the wild right was… interesting. In a good way. 

In a really good way, actually. She glanced at Felassan, who had followed her into the foyer and was leaning casually against the wall with his arms folded. “I like it,” she said.

He smiled. “I’m glad I didn’t snarl your hair into a mess of tangles for no good reason, then.”

She winced. “All right, fine, what I said before was rude. I’m sorry. I really like how this looks, though.” She patted the sleek braid on the left, then frowned; there was nothing fastening the bottom of the braid, yet it wasn’t unravelling.

She looked up at Felassan again. “How is this staying in place?”

“Magic,” he said.

She gave him a chiding look, then paused; he was smiling still, but his expression wasn’t jocular. 

Her eyes widened. “Wait, are you being serious?”

He nodded, and her jaw dropped. “How…?”

He shrugged. “It just… came to me without thinking. An automatic pattern of the fingers and the mind, it seems.”

She gaped at him with growing wonder. “But that’s… that’s good, right?” She gestured at her hair. “This was exactly what you mean to do, right?”

“It was, yes,” he said.

Her belly leapt with excitement. “It came to you naturally like breathing,” she said. “You did exactly what you mean to without thinking about it! That’s how magic is supposed to feel to you, right?”

He chuckled. “Yes, Tamaris, it is.”

“But that’s — Felassan, that’s incredible!” she exclaimed. “That’s…” She gaped at him in awe, then suddenly flung her arms around him in a hug. “That’s incredible!”

He hugged her back, but his words were cautionary. “This was just a small feat, avise. Don’t get carried away.”

“I’m not getting carried away!” she protested. “This is incredible! And it doesn’t matter if it was just a small thing. It felt the way it was supposed to. That means everything you’ve been doing is working!” She leaned away and poked his chest. “You’re on your way to getting your magic back, see? I knew you would!”

“Everything we have been doing is working, you mean,” he said. “I would not have reached this point if not for you.”

“Well, neither would I,” she said. “I’d still be a bitter drunk mess if not for you. Fair’s fair.”

He gave her a chiding look. “You discredit yourself so quickly. You would have found your bearings in time.”

“So would you,” she retorted.

He gave her a slow and breathtaking smile. “We are a well-matched pair, then,” he said. “Two non-broken people who helped each other to become even less broken.”

She gazed at him, wordless with pride and adoration, and in the warmth of his smile and his brilliant violet eyes, she could see the reflection of the feeling that was making her heart pulse with happiness. She and Felassan were more than just two people who had helped each other. Through each other’s eyes, they’d rediscovered something in themselves that they’d each thought was lost, and over the course of that discovery, they’d twined their lives together in a way that Tamaris would never have thought possible with someone she’d known for so little time. 

She smiled helplessly at him, then pulled him close for a kiss. He immediately sank into her kiss, parting his lips under the coaxing pressure of her mouth and sliding his tongue sinuously along the length of her own. He gently nipped her lips with that exquisitely gentle care that told her how much he was savouring the taste of her mouth, and by the time he gently peeled his mouth away from hers, she was panting. 

He ran his thumb across her cheek. “We have a pocket of time now before Varric comes,” he murmured. “I wonder what we should we do with it?”

She smirked; she could tell exactly what he had in mind from the heated and mischievous look on his face. All the same, she playfully tilted her head. “What did you have in mind?”

He chuckled. The sound was more of a purr than a laugh, and it sent a lovely shiver down her spine. He leaned in and brushed his lips to hers, and his silky reply was a whisper of warmth over her lips. 

“I believe we should… go finish washing the walls in the study,” he murmured.

Cheeky ass, she thought happily. Then she hopped into his arms.

Felassan caught her with a laugh of surprise as she looped her legs around his waist. “Later,” she said huskily, and she kissed him once more. 

He kissed her back and carried her to the sofa in the study. And for a lovely, blissful time, they indulged themselves in a discovery of a more carnal kind.

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

Late that afternoon, Varric arrived with a box of fine Antivan chocolates and a wry smile. “Hey,” he said, and he handed the chocolates to Tamaris. “These arrived at my office this morning. They’re from Ruffles.” He took his usual seat at the dining table. “Thought we might need them if Jester’s going to be telling us some horror stories tonight.” He glanced at the kitchen, where Felassan was finishing up dinner. 

“Good thinking,” Tamaris said. She sat across from him and shot him an apologetic look. “Listen, I was being an ass last night. I shouldn’t have just stormed off like I did.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Varric said. “Honestly, Cuddles, I don’t blame you. It’s a tough time for everyone.”

“That’s kind of my point, though,” she said. “You’re so calm. How are you so calm through all of this? Aren’t you angry?”

Varric shrugged. “Honestly, I don’t see the point. This isn’t our first disaster, remember?”

“I know, but still.” She leaned her elbows on the table. “Tell me your dwarven secrets. How are you so fucking pleasant all the time?”

He huffed in amusement. “You don’t know that I’m pleasant all the time. Maybe I spend my evenings gnashing my teeth and wailing before I go to bed.”

Tamaris clicked her tongue. “Seriously. How are you coping with this so well?”

“Honestly?” He leaned back in his chair and folded his arms. “I’ve been writing something.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Really? What are you writing?”

He tugged an earring. “It’s… something really stupid.”

Felassan piped in. “It’s smut, isn’t it?” He slid a platter of fragrant salmon and rice onto the table, then headed back to the kitchen.

“Is that all you ever think about?” Tamaris called after him. 

“It is a solid third of everything I think about, yes,” he called back. 

Tamaris snorted in amusement and turned back to Varric. To her surprise, Varric was looking vaguely embarrassed. “I hate to admit it, but he’s right. It’s a trashy romance thing.”

“But I thought you didn’t like writing those!” Tamaris said in surprise.

He shrugged again. “Eh, I’ve changed my mind. They’re not so bad. It’s less pressure too, since almost nobody reads my romance serials.”

“So why are you doing it, then?” she asked.

“Because it’s relaxing, Cuddles,” he said wryly. “You asked me how I relax, that’s how I relax.”

She peered carefully at him. “Are you saying you… you know? While writing them?” She raised her eyebrows suggestively.

Varric rolled his eyes. “You’re just as bad as Jester. The two of you need to find a new hobby.”

“I take offense to that,” Felassan said as he re-entered the room with a platter of grilled vegetables. He gave Tamaris a chiding look. “I wouldn’t make such a crude suggestion to our esteemed writer. Varric is obviously writing another romance serial for Cassandra.”

Tamaris scoffed. “No he’s not.” She turned to Varric. “Are you?”

Varric grimaced slightly and tugged his earring again, and Tamaris’s jaw dropped. “You are?” 

“Of course he is,” Felassan said. He began serving everyone’s food. “He said almost no one reads his serials, and we all know who his most avid fan is.”

“All right, fine, I am,” Varric grumbled. “But it’s just for fun. Honestly, I think the Seeker gets more out of it than I do.”

That makes it even sweeter, Tamaris thought, but she didn’t want to make him uncomfortable by pointing this out. 

Felassan, as usual, had fewer qualms than she. “That’s very considerate of you,” he said. “Exceedingly considerate, in fact. I was just telling Tamaris the other day that we should invite Cassandra to visit sometime.”

Tamaris kicked him under the table, but he didn’t even bat an eye. Varric, on the other hand, raised an eyebrow. “Visit Kirkwall? Why?”

“Why not?” Felassan said. He waved his arm in a vague gesture. “We have this large empty house. She would be welcome to stay. Wouldn’t she, Tamaris?” He shot her a very innocent smile.

“Of course she would, Felassan,” Tamaris said through clenched teeth. “But she is pretty busy with, you know, rehabilitating Tranquils and the Seekers and all that.”

“Everyone needs a break sometimes,” Felassan said cheerfully. To Varric he said, “Do you think we should invite her to stay?”

“I mean, you could,” Varric said. “Cuddles is right, though; she might be too busy. Wouldn’t mind seeing her, though.” He popped some salmon in his mouth and eyed Tamaris thoughtfully. “Your hair is different. It looks dressed up.”

“It does, doesn’t it?” Felassan said. 

Varric smirked at him. “Your handiwork, I’m guessing?”

“It certainly is,” he said with a smile. Then he snapped his fingers. “Ah, forgive me; I forgot the sauce for the salmon.” He rose from the table and leaned in to kiss Tamaris’s cheek, but as his lips brushed her cheekbone, he whispered to her. “Take note that he changed the subject.”

Smug fucking spy, she thought, but of course she couldn’t say a word. Felassan sauntered away to the kitchen, and Tamaris smiled tightly at Varric, whose eyebrows were quirked in a quizzical expression. 

“Um, yeah,” she said lamely. “I look fucking fancy now.” She speared some vegetables and salmon on her fork. “Be careful that he doesn’t offer to braid your chest hair. I don’t think he’s above it.”

“I heard that,” Felassan called from the kitchen. 

Tamaris smirked, and Varric chuckled. Felassan returned to the table, and they spent the rest of their meal chatting casually about local goings-on and a book that all three of them had read when it came out about ten years ago. 

When their meal was done and Tamaris had finished tidying the kitchen, they retired to the library with Varric’s chocolates and Tamaris’s sending crystal so Dorian could be included in the discussion. Varric sat in an armchair while Felassan plopped onto one of the plush couches and stretched out his legs, and Tamaris settled herself cross-legged on the floor by Felassan’s couch and swept her thumb over the sending crystal. 

A few moments later, Dorian’s voice floated through. “Tamaris! I was just thinking of you. I had hoped you were missing the mellifluous sound of my voice.” 

“I missed you desperately, Dorian,” she said dryly. “Felassan and Varric are here too.”

“A whole party of people who miss me dearly!” Dorian said brightly. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Varric replied. “It’s storytime with the ancient elf. We thought you’d want to join in.”

“Oh, is Felassan telling us tales of the past?” Dorian said. “How amusing.”

“Amusing is what I always strive for,” Felassan said. He tilted his head thoughtfully. “Disturbing is what the result will likely be, unfortunately.”

“Even better,” Dorian said.

Tamaris raised an eyebrow. “Really? You want to be disturbed?”

“I want to be accurately informed,” Dorian said. “What Abelas told us at the Well of Sorrows has never left my mind, you know. To know that my people were scavengers, not conquerors… it means something. We should never have striven for that reputation of the glorious conquerers in the first place, and to know that we never were is humbling, in a good way.”

Felassan’s smile was soft. “You are wise beyond your years and your race, my friend.”

“I do believe that was a compliment,” Dorian said. “If so, I will happily accept.”

Tamaris rolled her eyes. “Do you two need some time alone to bond?”

Felassan playfully tugged her braid. “Don’t be jealous, avise. You know you are always my favourite person the room.”

Varric groaned, and Dorian tsked. “If that’s what this call will be like, then give me a moment to find a bucket to vomit in.”

Tamaris smiled goofily and scratched the back of her neck, and Felassan chuckled. “Enough idle small talk, then. Don’t let me hold up this storytelling time.” He rubbed his hands together. “What do you wish to know first?”

There was a brief pause. Then Dorian, Tamaris, and Varric all spoke at once. 

“Why was Solas so angry about the archdemons being killed?” Tamaris asked. 

“How did red lyrium get the Blight in the first place?” Varric said.

“I’d like to know more about that orb that Solas had,” Dorian said.

A slow smile crept over Felassan’s face. Then he started to laugh. “So you wish to know everything, then. I suppose I ought to start from the very beginning. Of what I know, at least.” His expression grew serious. “Much of what I will tell you happened long before I was born. The knowledge I have isn’t as first-hand as the facts you would get from Fen’Harel himself, if he had ever been so inclined to share it with you.” He sighed. “I also have strong suspicions about things that… that Fen’Harel did not want his people to know.” He looked directly at Tamaris, and his gaze was soft and utterly serious. “Things he would not have wanted you to know, for fear of corrupting the woman he loved with that which eventually poisoned our entire empire.”

Her pulse began to rise at this. “Just tell me what you feel comfortable with,” she told him. 

He nodded. Then he smiled and laced his fingers casually behind his head. “All right. I should probably start by telling you what — or rather, who — the archdemons really were.” 

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

An important note: Felassan’s anecdote about the importance of hairstyles in ancient Arlathan, and the terrible meaning of slaves having their hair shaved, was heavily inspired by the IRL history of European slave traders shaving the heads of West African people when they took them as slaves. The sources I referred to for this are here and here – two sources that corroborate each other, both of which I recommend. My fiancé beta’ed that section for me as well. If you recognized the inspiration for this anecdote, I hope it came across as it is intended: a respectful homage to black history in North America.

[foxeshaveclaws]

rottweiler smile

This is an exchange fic for @kkyraken​! You asked for Andrew/Neil with the press and talking shit so I hope this is sufficient!! It got a little bit away from me haha. Happy Holidays! @aftgexchange

Oh, and title is from Diamond Mine by Hop Along!

It went like this.

“Mr. Minyard, how do you feel about your college teammate finally joining the NEL?”

“Who?” Minyard’s expression was as blank as always. 

“Uh.” The reporter gulped. “Neil Josten, your former captain and teammate?”

Minyard’s expression didn’t change. “I don’t really care.”

“Mr. Josten!” The reporter interrupted another question and Josten looked at him in confusion. 

“Yes?”

“How do you feel about going up against a team that has one of your former teammates on it?”

“Oh, Andrew?” Josten shrugged. “What I feel won’t change anything. Andrew’s the best goalie in the league but he’s never been a problem for me before so I’m just gonna focus on my game.”

“So is there going to be tension between you two tonight?” 

Josten grinned and everyone in the press room shuddered silently. 

“Oh yeah. Expect lots of tension.”

*

Josten’s team was in Chicago against Minyard’s and it was obvious that something was strange the moment that Minyard stepped onto the court.

Instead of walking to the goal right away, he detoured past the visiting team and shook Josten by his mask. The two exchanged words as the fans screamed but nothing came from the short interaction.The game continued on. 

*

“Mr. Minyard! What was it like playing against Josten? Why did you go intimidate him before game start?”

“Josten,” Minyard said the name like it personally insulted him. “He sure does think he’s good.”

“Are you saying you don’t think he’s good?”

Minyard just raised his eyebrows in response and went to continue toweling off.

* 

“Mr. Josten! How does it feel to lose to your newest rival in your first game in the NEL?”

“Newest rival?” Josten stopped short. “Do you mean Andrew?”

“Yes. The two of you have been hostile in the last few months leading up to this and his actions towards you at the start of the game cemented the two of you as rivals in the fans minds. Do you have any comments on that?”

Josten shrugged. “Call us rivals or don’t. It doesn’t change the fact that I’m the only one that scored on him tonight.”

“So do you think you’re a match for him in goal?”

“I’m his only match.”

*

“Mr. Day! Do you to comment on the rivalry of your two former teammates, Neil Josten and Andrew Minyard?”

“Sure.” Day turned to the reporter. 

“In college, were Josten and Minyard always at each other’s throats as they seem to be now?”

“In one way or another, yes.”

“So are you surprised to find out that the two now have an extremely heated rivalry?”

“I just didn’t expect it to be so public. Public isn’t Andrew’s idea of fun.”

“Do you have anything else to add?”

Day shrugged. “As long as it doesn’t affect their Exy, I don’t really see why it matters.”

*

“Thank you so much for being on the show tonight, Matt!”

Boyd laughed and clapped his hands. “It’s great to be here, thanks for having me.”

“So let’s cut right to the chase.” The talk show host winked. “Your two former teammates, Andrew Minyard and Neil Josten have begun an amazing rivalry! It’s all anyone in Exy can talk about. What do you think is going on there? What sparked such heated emotions?”

Boyd cocked his head to the side. “Well, everything about Andrew and Neil is heated. It’s just a given with those two. I do think it’s really funny that they are rivals.”

“Were they like this in college?” 

“Well, yeah! I think Kevin said it best in that interview a few weeks ago but they really were always at each other’s throats. And Neil is my best friend and I told him before that he needs to think stuff like this through more. He never does though.”

“Very well put, Matt. Now let’s move on to your most recent game.”

*

The next time the two teams played, Josten scored on Minyard four times in a row and laughed with each goal until Minyard grabbed his faceplate again and growled something in return. Josten just laughed again and ran back to his starting position. There was a new photo of two of them, framed in the light of the stadium, with their faces inches away from each other, Minyard’s in a frown and Josten’s in a grin. The picture was on every sports article the day after.

“Mr. Josten! How do you feel now that both you and Andrew Minyard are going to be on the USA Exy Team?”

Josten stopped and stared at the reporter who had shouted the question. His nose scrunched up in confusion. “Andrew accepted the Court position?”

“Yes, he accepted the position right before 6 o’clock this evening. How do you feel?”

Josten just shook his head. “That asshole.” He walked back to the locker room. 

*

Every reporter in the world tried to grab Josten or Minyard in the hours following the moments the gold medal touched their necks but neither one of them could be found. 

“Mr Josten, how do you feel about the fact that you are now going to be playing on the same team as your rival for an extended amount of time? Do you expect problems?”

Josten just laughed in return. “I mean, it sure is going to be interesting for me and Andrew to be on the same team for real after a few years apart. It's gonna be fun.”

The coach for the Wildeyes stepped forward. “We kept this rivalry in mind when deciding on this transfer and we are expecting no problems from the two. They performed well together during the Olympics and they were teammates before and they are teammates again. That’s all.Thank you for coming to this press conference.”

 *

“Now!” The talk show host clapped their hands together. “I have some very important guests I would like to introduce to you all! I am so happy to welcome gold medalists and starting goalie for the Chicago Wildeyes, Andrew Minyard! And with him, gold medalist and former starting Striker for the New York Rebels, Neil Josten!”

The two men walked out with matching expressions and Team USA jackets. They didn't make eye contact or interact at all as the two took their seats next to each other on the couch. The tension in the studio rose imperceptibly. 

“So…” The host started off. It was obvious that they were nervous but they pushed on. “You two have quite a history, correct? You played together in college with the Palmetto State Foxes, became rivals during the regular season this year and then went to win gold together in the summer Olympics this year. Now you are about to start you are about to start your first season permanently back together on the Chicago Wildeyes. How does it feel? Is there still lingering animosity between you two?”

Josten and Minyard glanced at each other. Minyard’s eyebrows rose imperceptibly and Josten’s lips twitched. They had a full conversation in the five seconds that they held eye contact. Minyard was the one to turn his gaze back to the host. “There will always be animosity between us. I hate him.”

“Wow, you're so good with words, Andrew.” Josten teased before the host could get another word in. “I hate you too, but we knew that.”

“We did?” The host muttered in confusion.

The two men nodded in unison. Josten smiled. “Got rings and everything to prove how much we hate each other.” From under their shirts, they each pulled out matching platinum rings on gold chains. 

There was a beat of silence in the studio as everyone zeroed in on those rings and what they meant. Then the entire world broke into noise. 

“You-you're married?” The host sputtered. “How-how long?”

“Neil’s last year with the Foxes.” Minyard was the one to answer that question. 

“So, this entire time you’ve had this rivalry you actually been...married?”

“Yup.” Josten popped the P on his answer. “It's actually made things a lot easier. Long distance sucks but being married means that when we get hurt during games we can visit each other and everything.”

“So you don't actually hate each other?”

“I hate him.” Minyard said. “No doubt about it.”

“And I hate him too.” Josten responded.

Josten reached out his hand and Minyard took it, the corners of his mouth ticking up in the simplest way possible. The crowd screamed. The host put his head in his hands. 

[starkergames]

Title: Dance Me to the End of Love Artists: @still-lovelygarnet (sketch), Lighinz (Ink),  @the-mad-starker​ (Color + Writer) Notes: Lighinz: This was the first piece of starker fanart I’ve ever worked on and I’m so glad it was with my lovely teammates. They’re such inspirations! It’s been amazing seeing this all come together. ❤️❤️ Garnet: This drawing has been a journey for me, and I am so happy to see it finished! It’s a beauty and I am proud of my wonderful, stunning, hard working and stupidly talented teammates, @the-mad-starker​ & Lighinz! And let’s not forget the fic that comes with it, Mads being an absolute trouper as always. ❤️❤️ Thank you guys for having me! Mads: I had absolutely no idea how much work coloring was but my teammates were always so encouraging and supportive. QAQ I’ll never take fanart for granted again QAQ But I’m happy I gave this a shot and I’ve learned so much. Thanks to my teammates and for this event for bringing us together 💗 The social media sites and media had gone apeshit over the leak. A certain document started circulating, a marriage license. 

Tony Stark was married. 

The only problem was, whoever had done it had blurred out his spouse’s name. Fic below the cut!

February 14, 2020.

A Friday night to remember since it was not only Valentine's Day but also the Stark Valentine's Charity ball.

Every year, Stark Industries would raise thousands and this year, it would be no different. Most likely, they'd be able to raise more than any other year previously since the spotlight had been on Tony for the past week.

An important document had been leaked.

A marriage license.

It came as a shock.

The social media sites and media had gone apeshit over the leak. A certain document started circulating, a marriage license.

Tony Stark was married.

The only problem was, whoever had done it had blurred out his spouse's name.

And so the paparazzi were on the hunt for a Mrs. or Mr. Stark only to find out Tony had taken a two week business trip.

False, they had discovered. The business trip was actually a honeymoon and the trail went cold until now.

Tony had managed to avoid them once he came back, no husband or wife in sight. That caused an even bigger commotion since it piqued everyone's curiosity. It was easy enough for Tony to remain unreachable, considering the man lived in the penthouse above Stark Industries.

It wasn't as easy for Peter though since he still lived in Queens with his aunt, but no one was all too interested in him. No one, except Tony.

Tony, who, despite Peter's insistence that he didn't need to be picked up, had arrived at his aunt's 5:30 on the dot. It wasn't unusual though since Tony was just spontaneous and hard to say no to.

Peter's boss and mentor sat beside him in the limo driving them to the event. He couldn't help but let his eyes wander over the man sitting beside him.

Tony Stark was aglow from all the sun he'd been enjoying and more than that, he was genuinely happy. The smile on his face said as much, a charming and almost dopey smile that not many were accustomed to seeing. Marital bliss suited the older man even if his smiles deepened the lines on his face.

To Peter, Tony has never looked so handsome.

He fidgeted in his seat, still not used to wearing the kind of attire that's required for these things.

Tony picked out his suit though, a cream-colored piece that only seemed to accentuate his slim but fit body. In contrast, the older man had worn a navy blue suit along with a very light, almost white, pink shirt. A rose was tucked into his shirt pocket and Peter smiled at the sight.

"The polls for the identity of Mrs. Stark is pretty funny," Tony mused as he scrolled through the media sites on his phone.

"Who's winning now?" Peter asked as he leaned closer to peek at his phone.

Pepper Potts's name was nowhere in the list but only because she had adamantly denied it from the very start. The paparazzi had also proven that Ms. Potts had been attending a company business while Tony had disappeared for his honeymoon.

"Who is that even…?" Peter laughed. "Natasha Romanoff…?"

Tony bumped his knee against his and chuckled.

"They got a hold of the guest list," Tony explained, "that's why she's jumped up in the polls."

Peter hummed but leaned back.

"Too bad the only person accompanying you is your protege," Peter said, knee bouncing as he scrolled through the list.

There was a separate poll for men, too, since Tony wasn't exactly shy about his preferences. Peter's heart skipped a beat when he saw his own there, listed near the very bottom at place number twenty-one out of twenty-five.

Warmth. Tony's hand settled on top of his bouncing knee. His wedding ring glinted in the light, a simple golden band with one studded diamond embedded inside.

"Breathe, kid," Tony instructed gently. "You sure you wanna do this? I know these public things aren't your scene."

Peter was anxious and it was obvious. He took a deep breath, stopped his fidgeting, and focused his runaway thoughts.

He knew that if he had said so right now that Tony would bring him home.

That, more than anything, was what had Peter returning the smile. It was a bit strained from the upcoming event, but it was there. He settled a hand over Tony's and felt the smooth, hard metal beneath his fingers. A gentle squeeze was given to show his appreciation.

"I can do this," Peter said and then corrected himself. "I want to do this."

"That's my spunky little intern," Tony smiled back at him.

"Not an intern anymore," Peter reminded him with a fond shake of his head.

He hasn't been an intern for almost two years and was expecting to take over as the R&D department manager of Stark Industries within the next six months.

And the relationship between him and Tony...

Tony grinned at the correction.

"Of course not. How do I keep forgetting?" Tony pretended to chide himself.

Peter was about to make a quip about his age but then the limo came to a stop at the entrance.

Outside, he saw the crowd of reports just waiting to catch a glimpse of Tony's spouse who they expected had ridden with him. He wondered how they'd react when they see just little old Peter Parker trailing after his boss.

Everyone was used to seeing Peter by Tony's side since he joined SI. Tony, himself, had called Peter his protégé, his next big project, the rising star of SI… the list of affectionate nicknames go on and on and has accumulated into a big pile of endearments.

Peter cherished each one.

"Knock 'em dead," was the last thing Tony said before they went to face the crowd.

The camera flashes were blinding. Even after two years of it, Peter still forgot to expect them until it was already too late and dots were dancing in his vision.

As expected of Tony Stark, he owned the audience's attention and smiled at every camera turned his way. Peter followed behind and was careful to keep away from the reporters.

No one was really interested in him since it was Tony that they wanted to get at.

Peter watched, amused, as Tony deflected every inquiry regarding his spouse that was thrown his way. This was a charity ball, after all, and the older man turned every question into answers that promoted and brought the attention back to the event in question.

Peter didn't know how he did it but it was a superpower he'd have to learn in the future.

The event area was decorated in a beautiful mess of Valentine's Day colors. The tables were set in white with stunning displays of bouquets. The roses were in full bloom, vibrant reds that popped out when surrounded by the more gentle pinks and whites of the surrounding flowers.

Crowds of people already sat at their tables, socializing and having a good time with wine being served.

It was a very large event and just standing there, taking it all in, Peter felt he could've easily lost himself in there. But then he felt a strong and familiar presence by his side and he turned, finding Tony right there beside him.

At that moment, the room could've been filled to capacity and Peter wouldn't have noticed anyone else besides Tony.

To him, it was obvious that he was in love with his boss. To others, maybe it wasn't as obvious since they liked to think of him as Tony's mini-me.

A lot of people also felt that they knew what Tony's feelings and thoughts were. It was easy to believe that since Tony was such an outspoken and outgoing person. He could talk on and on about something, injecting his insights and thoughts on a subject, and the listener would only have a glimpse of who Tony really was.

So, everyone thought that they knew Tony Stark because of his past reputation and his easy-going personality.

Then Tony did something like secretly getting married and people suddenly realized how very little they knew about him. They hadn't even known he was dating, let alone serious enough to pop the question.

They didn't see Tony the way Peter did, didn't know him the way Peter did so how could he blame them for being so oblivious?

Every smile Tony gave to others, he gave twice as many to Peter in darted glances and quick flashes. He always pulled Peter into the conversation and Peter wondered if others recognized just how often Tony spoke about him.

Maybe they did. Maybe they brushed it off.

That would change tonight.

Many had asked about the mysterious Mr. or Mrs. Stark. Curious eyes searched for Tony's spouse by his side and seemed to slip right over Peter. It didn't upset him at all. It made him happy that he was such a well recognized figure in Tony's life.

The money came pouring in for the charity and Tony gave them his dazzling smile. Appetizers were served, the guests' chatter dropping to low murmurs as they were served finger foods that could've easily replaced dinner with how generous it was.

A short speech was made and Tony looked so handsome with the mic in his hand and a bright gleam in his eye.

Peter, from his seat at the front table, could practically feel how the guests were hoping for Tony to introduce his spouse.

And like the tease Tony was, just shortly before concluding his speech, he had the audacity to say, "I know many of you are dying to meet my sweetheart." He gave the crowd a wink, "And it is Valentine's Day so it would make sense, huh?"

A pause as the crowd waited patiently or impatiently for the big reveal.

"But this ball isn't about me or my newly beloved, but we'll see if we can get some more surprises in by the end of the night. Dinner should be coming out shortly and then, we'll get to the fun part of the evening. Dancing!"

Tony rejoined the first table, completely at ease with his selected dinner mates. He flashed Peter a quick grin before he nudged his seat closer.

"What do you think? Will they be lucky enough?" Tony leaned in to ask.

Beneath the table, a warm hand settled on his knee, a reassuring weight. Peter had to fight to keep the smile from splitting across his face.

The whole dancing part of the event made him nervous and Tony had promised him that he didn't need to. Just thinking about it made his heart pound but when he looked at the older man, he felt it melt into a mess of goo and affection.

He subtly slipped his hand beneath the table, settling it above Tony's and gave it a squeeze.

"Maybe," he said with a faint smile.

They withdrew both their hands as the waiters came out and served dinner. The dinner SI provided for their guests was almost decadent. It warmed their bellies with good food and along with the alcohol from the open bar, laughter and smiles were being exchanged with ease.

The clatter of utensils working over near and veggies filled the room and the soft quiet conversations lulled as people ate.

And just as dinner was wrapping up, a familiar tune started to play. Peter glanced and Tony and found the man staring back at him, unabashed and grinning from ear to ear.

He returned it with an exasperated shake of his head, but when Tony held his hand out… Peter took it.

He was pulled from his seat and led onto the empty dance floor. The music swirled around them and the entire hall fell into a hush as more and more people noticed the pair on the floor.

Tony led Peter in a dance and it was there that everyone's eyes were finally opened to the truth.

The person they had been looking for all evening had been by Tony's side the entire time.

There was no doubt about it now, as the audience's eyes followed the pair. Fluid, graceful movements… Hand in hand, they swept across the dance floor, perfectly in sync in body, as well as mind.

It was undeniable, the tenderness that spread across Tony's face as he looked at Peter

Undeniable, when Peter smiled so sweetly at him.

They danced and danced and to Peter, it was like the entire hall disappeared. There was no one else but them and all the anxiety, all the doubts faded away as he looked into Tony's eyes.

They had taken a long path to get where they were today. What started as a simple, professional relationship slowly transformed into a quiet, but comfortable silence as they worked.

The silence became filled with chatter and once one started talking, the other would answer. Their quiet work hours became filled with laughter and scandalized jokes then with soft teasing. The hunger for each other's company grew until it spilled out of the lab and brought them together in movie theaters then quiet little evenings in Peter's apartment.

Their first kiss was a memory that made them both grin and laugh. A moment of spontaneity as Tony babbled on and on, a flush of excitement tinting his cheeks red. Then shocked silence as Peter shut him up with a press of his lips.

Do that again, Tony had dared and Peter hadn't backed down since. He'd done it countless times until they were both breathless from it.

Countless dates and secret smiles being exchanged at the office. I love you's being exchanged softly and meaningfully. Reverently. Then the ease in which those words came, each dropping it casually in their texts and whenever they parted. It didn't make those significant words any less meaningful. In fact, it only reaffirmed, over and over, how they felt about each other.

Months fast-forwarded and then Tony was kneeling in front of him, a black box in hand and Peter staring dumbly at him like he hadn't expected it at all. The mister to my Mr. Stark, Tony had casually said once upon a time and now… Now, the ring sat on Peter's fingers, a quiet but unbreakable declaration.

All those memories whirled around them as they danced. The ease in which they trusted one another was obvious. The love they had was now glaringly obvious, as obvious as the beautiful sparkle that Peter's diamond ring gave off, a perfect mirror to Tony's wedding band.

And when the song came to an end, Tony's mic turned on. That voice that Peter has heard whispering love into his ears come on the speakers, breathless from excitement and exertion.

"I don't need to make introductions," Tony said while looking into Peter's eyes. "You all know who he is." -- Thank you to our wonderful artists and writer who participated in the first Starker Games!

[sserpente]

As a last resort

A/N & Synopsis: Based on a prompt sent to me by @imboredsueme:

The hero shows up at the villain’s doorstep one night. They’re shivering, bleeding, scared. There’s also a slightly dazed look in their eyes--they were drugged. They look like they were assaulted. Looking up at the villain, swaying slightly as they’re close to passing out, they mumble: “...didn’t know where else to go...”, then collapse into the villain’s arms.

Sometimes, inspiration strikes you and when it does, you have to strike back. Featuring one of my favourite AU’s. 😉

Words: 2542 Warnings: Loki wins AU, mentions of drug use, drink spiking and attempted rape, fluff

Things were different around New York City ever since the Chitauri attack. Ever since the Avengers, hope of civilisation, society and humanity, had lost Earth to a man as beautiful as he was dangerous and the disappointment and anger the people had met you with on the streets had driven you further into living a hazardous life in the shadows.

Loki had announced a hefty bounty for your capture. Yours, and that of his adoptive brother Thor, Steve Rogers and Natasha Romanoff. Heavens knew whether Tony Stark, Bruce Banner and Clint Barton were still alive after they had disappeared in the Avengers’… Loki’s tower around six months after the alien invasion. But the remaining Avengers were out there somewhere, hiding and planning to overthrow his ruling.

You had long given up on them trying to find you. Perhaps they thought you were dead—that you, a young woman with mere combat skills and two failed assassination attempts before you were recruited by the man you had been assigned to kill and became part of the Avengers only a few days after the God of Mischief had arrived on Earth to claim it, could not possibly survive this long in a realm ruled by chaos and malice.

They had left you and given up on you, choking you with all the hope that had swelled up in your chest every night before you curled up in a dirty rain barrel you had found to sleep in. Realisation had hit you after almost two years hiding among the homeless. You were alone in this world. You always had been. You had just been naïve enough to believe that the Avengers would finally change that.

Sure. The word, in the truest sense of its meaning, had sealed your fate tonight. You had shaken the devil’s hand, unsuspecting of the fatal deal you had struck. He was supposed to be an ally. Henry lived near the eerie scrap yard in the suburbs. He made money by stealing cars and selling the parts to shady dealers and they paid him enough to afford a flat he shared with friends. You had never asked but according to their looks, they were both drug dealers.

You had agreed to join them for a drink in a bar they knew would be safe for you to stroll in. Your face was all over the news, after all, the sum announced on your head making most people around New York City dizzy. It was high. Not as high as the bounty promised for the capture of Thor but higher than the bounty placed onto Captain America and Black Widow. Loki and you had fought in the past, regardless of you getting overwhelmed by the much stronger Asgardian, numerous times. He had offered you a way out to join him and you had refused. Now, self-preservation and the will to survive this hellhole New York City had become urging you on, you wished you hadn’t. Loki was a cunning and arrogant man. Something about you had fascinated him enough not to kill you when he brought you to his feet, disarmed and breathing heavily. But he had sworn revenge for your denial and rejection, for attempting to foil his plans.

When you realised that Henry’s friends, having asked for his consent prior to their actions, had spiked your drink, it was already too late. Whatever drug it was that now attacked your blood so aggressively and messed with your mind and thoughts, it burned like liquid fire in your stomach.

They had underestimated your combat skills when they dragged your weakened form outside through the back door to tear your clothes off your body which resulted in ugly holes revealing your skin on your thighs, stomach and chest. And you had fought back, striking with all your might and reaching for every body part that might hurt upon being hit as they had almost taken from you what you protected and cherished so dearly. Blood was streaming from your nose and the throbbing cut on your lip as well as a wound on your forehead. There were more injuries, for sure. The adrenaline cursing through your blood merely shut out the agony.

Bruises already formed on your stomach, one of the straps of your bra broken and revealing another cut right above your breast. A knife. Henry’s knife had done that. You would kill him for that and this time your assassination would not fail… if your survived this.

You moaned in pain when you heaved yourself into a dark alley to shield yourself from unwanted gazes. This was bad. This was really bad. You needed help but a hospital was out of the question. They would not help you without costs you could never cover without any insurance and if they recognised you…

Tears spilled from your eyes when another wave of sharp pain tore through your body, numbing your senses. You knew what fainting felt like… and you would lose consciousness soon if you didn’t act now and wanted to die in this alley. Your threw your head back, taking a deep breath which turned into a desperate sob.

Your sight blurred when you looked up into the cold night to see Loki’s tower protruding from the other buildings like an active volcano.

-

There was no need for Loki to guard the lobby downstairs, his Chitauri had made sure of that. He had made sure of that. People who walked into his tower usually did not make it back out unless they worked for him.

Sighing, he ran his fingers over his lower lip and tore his blue gaze away from the blond man who, only weeks after his victory over the Avengers, had volunteered to operate as his personal assistant and spy. He was a decommissioned politician, his motives questionable even to him—but thus far, he had proven to be useful.

His daily reports were beyond tiring and Loki could certainly think of more interesting activities to spend his evening. It was dark out already, thousands of artificial lights illuminating the nightly skyline of New York City and turning the many buildings beneath him into a murky sea.

He could use some distraction right about now. An attack, perhaps. Thor paying him a visit and starting yet another futile and brainless attempt to overthrow him with the sheer strength of his beloved hammer… sighing once more, he dismissed his lackey mid-sentence and leaned back in his cosy armchair, enjoying how silence spread in his living room and for once, letting his guard down.

That’s why the silent pling of the elevator caught him off guard, surprise and confusion rumbling inside of him as he stood to face the metal doors open to reveal… you. Loki closed the distance between the armchair and the elevator so fast any other human would have been intimidated but in your current state, you did not even notice.

What in the nine realms had happened to you? What were you doing here? If the Chitauri had caught you, one of their leaders would have been with you. If a bounty hunter had dragged you up, they would be demanding their reward right now.

Narrowing his blue eyes at you hostilely, he only took the time now to inspect your pathetic form. You were bleeding from several wounds, your clothes torn, skin covered in bruises and even cuts. Angry handprints and marks staining your flesh. Finally, you gathered the physical strength to look up at him shivering and scared, your eyes glazed and somewhat… abstracted. It was obvious you had been drugged by someone. What had happened?

“…I didn’t know where else to go…” You croaked out. Then, your eyelids flattered close and you collapsed into Loki’s arms.

-

The room you woke up in was not familiar. It was huge and spacious, neatly filled with dark brown furniture accentuated by golden engravings and green fabrics. The bed sheets covering your almost naked body were green too. Swallowing, you bit your lower lip to help ignore the pain and sat up a little to study your foreign surroundings.

A hot wave passed through you when your memories returned and hammered against your brain like Thor’s mjolnir, the amount of green and gold in the room a mocking reminder.  Loki.

“You are awake.” Flinching hurt when his voiced pulled you back to the present. Next to him, the entire room appeared meagre and tiny, like his mere presence shrunk it all down. Your eyes locked with his, a scrutinising glare boring into you. Another memory. You had passed out in his arms. Your lips parted to respond but Loki cut you off before you could utter a single word.

“Tell me what happened to you.” It was not a question, it was a demand. But an explanation for why you had showed up at the very man’s doorstep who had suspended a bounty of a million dollars on you was the least you owed him.

I didn’t know where else to go, you had mumbled half-unconscious. Loki doubted you remembered your words and yet they had been echoing in his head ever since he had called for some nurses and a doctor. They had patched you up quickly, sewing the laceration on your forehead and tending to the wounds on the rest of your body. They had taken a sample of your blood, too, quickly finding the right antidote to fight the drug in your blood. You would recover.

What had you meant by “I didn’t know where else to go”? Surely, whoever was left of the Avengers would have come to your help nobly sooner or later. Loki wondered, genuinely, why they hadn’t. But even more important was the question why he had helped you.

He could have let you die and bleed out on his green carpet then and there, saving the bounty and announcing yet another victory to the already terrified people living under his reign in New York City. To decide against it had been impetuous and he had spent hours watching your sleeping form in his own bed attempting to figure out his motives.

And he had come to a conclusion. No matter whose side you had fought on two years ago, the moment you had stepped into that elevator, you were an innocent and likely assaulted woman in the need of help. You had come to him, of all people, knowing there was a chance he would bury his pointy sceptre deep in your stomach as soon as you stepped over the threshold. You had laid your life in his hands, presenting your head to him on a silver platter… and despite everything that had happened, you had trusted him enough to save you.

His question stirred up memories you did not want to harbour. Squeezing your eyes shut, you took a deep and painful breath.

“They tricked me. My drink… it was spiked. Outside, they tried to…” Your voice broke, tears worsening your sight. “They tried to rape me.”

Loki’s poignant expression darkened. “Who?” He growled. Would it make any difference to him if he knew? He could send for the Chitauri to kill whoever had dared to lay a hand on you and ravish you against your will. He clenched his fists. But why, by the Norns, would he care?

“Henry… his friends… I should have known better, I considered him a friend! He… he shared his food with me.” Out on the streets of New York City, starvation was one of the most common causes of death, right after death from exposure, drug use and alcohol poisoning and murder. Sharing food was a big deal.

Another look into Loki’s blue and nearly unreadable eyes made you burst out crying. You had no power to stop it, nor to hold it in until he had left. It must have been some kind of delayed shock that made you shake and sob uncontrollably with a start, hugging your knees to your chest for some sort of comfort.

Loki began pacing up and down his bedroom, unsure of how to deal with the situation in the most calculated way possible.

“You came to me fully aware of the consequences.” He stated bluntly, his voice surprisingly quiet. Another sob of yours tore through the air before you looked up at him so helplessly Loki felt a strange sting in his heart.

“You… treated my wounds. You won’t kill me now, w-will you? I know you are not that cruel, Loki.” Loki demanded respect and he demanded being addressed properly. As of right now, he was the king of this realm—he was your king. The provocative undertone in your voice when you spoke his name, despite your devastation, did not go unnoticed. It suited you and intrigued him. You had not lost your fire then.

“I just… I’m all alone. I didn’t know where else to go and you…” You did not finish your sentence as you did not know how. But there it was again. I didn’t know where else to go. You were right, of course. He would never kill you. You might have been an Avenger but you had not been so with all your heart. You acted out of desperation and the need of recognition, affection and praise—in which aspect, when he had first met and fought you, he had seen himself.

He had approached you before he knew himself, his feet taking control of his actions. You leaned back intimidated when he came to a halt right in front of you. Your fear of him was palpable. Loki was right. You had come to him knowing the consequences. Without probing you knew that he would not let you out of this tower again—and only Heaven knew if you would live long enough to deal with the gravity of your actions.

Yet, at the very same time, you felt an overwhelming gratefulness washing over your mangled body when your eyes locked with his once more. Loki could have let you die pathetically. He could have killed you the moment the elevator doors opened to reveal your weakened form… and he did not.

“Thank you. For saving me.”

What he did next surprised you both. Loki lifted his arm, his hand coming up to stroke your cheek. Long and soft fingers caressing your wet skin. It was a light, gentle and hesitant touch as if he was trying to figure out what to do with you—and the odd sensations in his chest ever since you had collapsed in his arms.

Your lower lip was shaking as your eyes fell shut upon his tender touch. You did not realise you began sobbing again and wrapped your arms around his middle until you were already holding onto him, desperate to forget your assault. Loki… held you. Hesitantly and rather maladroitly, he pressed you against him almost possessively. In any other situation, you would have snorted at your stupidity. You were hugging the villain. Why… did this feel so right?

He would positively kill Henry and his friends, slowly and intimately, to avenge you. But first, he would have to thank them for driving you into his arms.

-

A/N: If you enjoyed this story, I would appreciate so much if you supported me on Kofi! kofi.com/sserpente ♥

Additional disclaimer: The original prompt that inspired this story seemed to have originally been posted by @one-lonely-whumperfly.