#izazov

[lifeinbooks]

znaš, veliki je izazov ostati čovek i kad ti kroz život prolaze neljudi.

[unfortunate17]

Oh, so much delicious angst... If you're up to it, 4 or 23 from the promt list for obikin. Thanks in advance.

I’m stupid because I didn’t know which prompt list you meant, did both, and then realized you most definitely meant the dialogue one LOL. 

So here is 23 from HERE (“I would’ve died for you.”) and 23 Angst from HERE (“When did you stop loving me?”) combined! 

Happy New Year! 

I re-wrote this like 6 times before I gave up, hopefully it’s still reasonably enjoyable to read 😩 

Anakin brings him home from a sub-surface level bar six weeks after Obi-Wan returns from Naboo. Obi-Wan has already had a few too many drinks, wallowing in his misery. Even the bartender-bot had started to look at him with pity.

It’s more than he can say for Anakin.

Anakin simply pulls him into a speeder without so much as a glance, deposits him into his refresher, and shoves him into bed once he’s sure Obi-Wan’s not going to retch or hurt himself. There’s a calculated coldness to his actions, all of Anakin’s usual playfulness has all but vanished. Much like his possessions from their quarters.

He still remembers that morning clearly. He’d leaned over to drop a hasty kiss on Anakin’s cheek, already late for his morning meeting, when Anakin had bristled uncomfortably. Obi-Wan had looked at him with an unspoken question spelled out on his tongue, but Anakin had only shrugged, mumbled something about how weird it was seeing Obi-Wan without his usual facial hair.

By the time he’d returned, Anakin had been gone. His tools and droid parts and clothes nowhere to be found. Ahsoka hadn’t been able to look him in the eyes when Obi-Wan had asked her about him.

Now, for a moment, the two of them regard each other. Anakin looks tired, the area under his eyes smeared dark, skin pallid like he hadn’t been sleeping. The sight sends a pang through Obi-Wan and without thought, he reaches out to draw Anakin close.

Anakin flinches away immediately. “I’ve brought you home like Master Windu asked,” he says stiffly, “I’ll be going now.”

Obi-Wan watches him shuffle, ice spreading steadily in his veins. The anger, he had been expecting, but never this stony silence. Truthfully, he’d take anything, any outburst, if it only meant Anakin would look at him again with something other than steely blankness.

He reaches out to catch one of Anakin’s hands. If Obi-Wan had been sober, he’d have probably lost his nerve by now, but alcohol has always made him far braver than he should be. He drags Anakin down until he’s kneeling between the V of his knees and presses a hand against the sharp cut of his jaw. They’re eye-level now, even if Anakin isn’t looking at him.

“Come by for breakfast tomorrow, my dear,” he murmurs gently. “I’ll make flatckaes.”

“I’m a better cook than you.”

“Perhaps after then,” Obi-Wan swallows. “I’ve missed spending time with you. We can do whatever you’d like,” he attempts a cracked smile, “I won’t even make you meditate.”

Anakin doesn’t raise his eyes from where he’s fixed them on the floor, but Obi-Wan feels his jaw work tightly under his fingers. “I’m training with Ahsoka tomorrow morning.”

“At night then,” Obi-Wan tries, biting back an unexpected sob, “maybe we could – catch a holodrama?”

“I can’t. I promised Padmé I’d see her.”

“Afterwards?”

Anakin lets out a long rush of air. “Obi-Wan – ”

The tone makes Obi-Wan flinch. He looks at Anakin, slides his hand upwards, past the smooth skin of his cheekbones, and up into his lovely tangle of golden hair. He tries to memories the curve of Anakin’s mouth, the furrow of his brow. Thinks of the way Anakin’s eyes used to light up at the very sight of him.

“The day after then,” Obi-Wan whispers. He leans in to kiss him, the motion nearly unconscious, but Anakin startles backwards once more.

Obi-Wan isn’t proud of the sound that escapes him. It’s a broken thing, punched out of his sternum, almost a whimper. He tightens his hold on Anakin when he tries to stand. “Anakin, please,” he begs. The whiskey makes his tongue thick, the words difficult to shape in his mouth.

Anakin allows his grip, sits back down. He squeezes his eyes shut, pained, and Obi-Wan’s heart hammers at the thought of causing it.

It was really only a few weeks ago that they were pressed together in this very bed, Anakin laughing into his neck, rubbing cold feet into his shins. The notion is unthinkable somehow, makes Obi-Wan ache.

Now, there is only silence.

Obi-Wan clears his throat, and the sound is loud, a cacophony in a moment in which even the force dares not to breathe. He’s not pleased with the words that fall out of him next, but Obi-Wan can’t quite hold them back.

“When did you stop loving me?” he asks, then immediately regrets it. Obi-Wan doesn’t want an answer, not truly.

At this, Anakin’s gaze snaps back up to him. He looks even more tired now, face drawn. But his eyes still widen in what Obi-Wan thinks is shock. Or maybe surprise.

Obi-Wan waits, but Anakin doesn’t speak, providing no justification or answers. He simply sits back on his haunches and looks miserable, put-out. His shoulders are bent under a weight that he should never have to carry. Obi-Wan grits his teeth against the knowledge that he’s somehow added to it.

Finally, Anakin sighs. “I should go.”

Obi-Wan settles his free hand over Anakin’s cheek, brushes a thumb over a lovely cheekbone. “Please don’t.”

Anakin allows the motion, but his brows furrow in what Obi-Wan knows is anger. “Why not?” he snaps. And finally, finally, there’s anger. A dark corner of Obi-Wan’s mind relishes having Anakin’s attention again. “I thought you were dead. I mourned you, Obi-Wan. You knew how I felt about you and you used it against me to sell your act. I would’ve done anything for you, Master. I would’ve died for you and you didn’t even care.”

“It was a poor decision,” Obi-Wan admits miserably. “I cannot tell you how much I regret it.”

“You’re only sorry because I’m upset,” Anakin snarls in response, “because I’m no longer in your bed. You came back and tried to pretend like nothing was wrong. Like what you did didn’t even matter.”

The sheer depths of his failures are difficult to consider for too long. Obi-Wan’s throat hurts. The force reveals nothing, empty and cold as it is, his connection whiskey-dulled.

And really, Anakin is right.

What does Obi-Wan’s apology even mean? Obi-Wan, who has always kept his emotions close to his chest, guarded, even when Anakin had expressed his desire for more, asked for something as simply given as verbal reassurance. He’d spent so long working through his own feelings, his own struggles, that Obi-Wan has never stopped to think that perhaps one day, Anakin might no longer be interested in waiting.

“That’s not true Anakin,” he insists, bringing Anakin close. “I never wanted to hurt you.”

Anakin resists. Obi-Wan watches him, desperation rising with every breath. He thinks of never really seeing Anakin again, of being alone in these wretched quarters. Thinks of watching Anakin with another, someone far more worthy, who would never dream of betraying or hurting him.

Even more horrifyingly, Obi-Wan thinks of someone in his own place. Of someone basking in the warmth of Anakin’s love, his fierce loyalty, enjoying the gentleness of his hands, the curve of his spine in bed.

Obi-Wan is going to be sick.

Tears glob in his throat, splinter at the corner of his eyes. The burn of alcohol in his veins is waning now, a chill settling in his bones. “Will you ever love me again?” he asks at last.

The ensuing silence is enough to make Obi-Wan’s vision go blurry with tears.

Anakin’s posture doesn’t soften, but emotion ripples across his face. Obi-Wan watches the line of his throat as he swallows, a muscle jumping in his jaw. “Obi-Wan,” his voice is tight, “gods, please don’t cry.”

“I’m sorry,” Obi-Wan offers again. He forces himself to let go of Anakin then, even if he can’t help but trace his shoulders one last time. Obi-Wan rakes his eyes over Anakin’s face, the softness of his features, the brightness of his eyes. “I love you,” he presses a fist to his mouth, trembling, “You will always be the single most important – “

“Stop,” Anakin says. His mouth twists unhappily and he leans forward, tucking his forehead into Obi-Wan’s chest. His voice is muffled now. “Please. I can’t bear to see you like this, Master.”

Obi-Wan heaves in response, shivering. He cups the back of Anakin’s head, rubs at the nape of his neck gently. Tries to pour what he can never express into what remains of their bond.

Anakin shakes his head once, the motion decisive, before he leans back and maneuvers Obi-Wan into bed. The world spins for a moment as Obi-Wan’s head settles into the pillow. He wants to say more, but he’s not sure if he has any words of value left.

But then Anakin is climbing into bed beside him, folding around him. He thumbs clumsily at the wetness on Obi-Wans cheeks even as Obi-Wan clings to him like he might vanish at any moment.

“I was angry,” Anakin admits quietly, words trembling on a shaky breath. He rubs Obi-Wan’s back, tucks his face into his neck. “But I didn’t want to hurt you like this. I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologize for, my love.”

“No,” Anakin holds him tighter. He kisses Obi-Wan’s head. “You’ve always taught me not to seek revenge. What I’ve done is – this isn’t what I wanted.”

“Anakin – ”

Anakin shushes him, pulling the blanket up around the both of them. His chest trembles. “Sleep, Master. We’ll talk more about this in the morning.”

Obi-Wan curls an arm around him, tries to calm his racing heart. “You’ll stay?”

“Always.”

[bardingbeedle]

sirsapling replied to your post “sirsapling replied to your post “i have been Searching and i cannot...”

god bless we do not deserve this beauty

we just.....genuinely don’t,, steve is the cutest i love him

izazov replied to your post “izazov replied to your post “i have been Searching and i cannot find...”

no problem. i'm glad i could help.

thank you thank you again!! ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ it made my night i am so happy 

[portraitoftheoddity]

Steve Rogers, please.

Immediately post-serum, Steve is really clumsy. 

Oh, his hand-eye coordination and reflexes are good -- but he constantly forgets his own size. Like a puppy that doesn’t realize it’s grown, he tends to misjudge distances and the scale of his own body, forgets the change in his center of gravity, and spends a good deal of time crashing into doorframes and tripping over his own strides for those first couple of weeks. He has more mass and more inertia, so it’s also harder to stop moving. 

But even with all the clumsiness, he winds up so excited that he can actually run without his asthma kicking in, that he takes to the street to run every morning (in the early pre-dawn hours when he’s less likely to bowl everyone over, while all the other performers in the USO tour are still sleeping.) He runs  so much and long, in fact, he wears clean through the soles of his only pair of shoes, and winds up having to go barefoot or wear the cap costume boots until his pay comes through for a new pair--

-- Except the USO girls take pity and lend him some money for proper shoes because it's just pathetic. And maybe, they’ve developed some sisterly affection for ‘Captain America’, who blushes and stutters at any advance, but has no problem knocking the snot out of any fella who tries to get frisky with them backstage. 

[starkandsnow]

every man who walks the earth casts a shadow on the world || insp

[stonytrumpshate]

izazov

Check out izazov's existing works here and here.

Charities

Any of the main STH charities.

Will create works that contain:

all kinds of angst, fluff, humor, h/c, non-explicit smut, alternate universe

Will not create works that contain:

explicit smut, abo, mpreg, character bashing, non-con, genderbend, polyamory, kidfic and underage

Fiction/Prose Auction

The fic I am offering to write should be at least 5k words in length. Depending on the subject, it could reach 15k. But, please, keep in mind that I am a slow writer with inconvenient work hours and it could take me a while to finish it.

Ratings: G, Teen, Mature Universes: MCU

CLICK HERE TO BID ON THIS WORK

The auction will run from 5/21 - 5/27. Visit auctions.stevetony.gives during that week to view all of our creators and place your bids!

[unfortunate17]

From the prompt list - if you find yourself inspired by either, that is - fluff 44 or angst 27 for obikin. Hope you have a happy holidays.

From this prompt list, I went with fluff 44! 

Thank you for the prompt, I LOVE YOU ❤️ Hope the last few days of the year are treating you well.

Obi-Wan stands at the edge of docking bay seven, the heat of the day rising in simmers against Jakku’s scorched badlands around him. The black robes he’s donned for this mission certainly don’t help, but the smugglers in this part of the galaxy took great pride in their dark clothing, choosing it specifically to strike terror into the hearts of all those who were unlucky enough to wander close.

He ghosts a hand over his blaster almost habitually. The past six rotations spent without a chance to meditate or simply prod into the force, separated from even the gentle hum of his kyber crystal, has left him more than a little on edge.

“This way, Ben.” The Geonosian’s Basic is poor, but understandable.

Obi-Wan nods minutely, pulls the hood of his cloak tighter even in the sweltering weather. He follows Chakko through the bustling hanger towards a deserted corner where they’d been told to meet their contact.

Chakko slides in close, scaly shoulders bushing Obi-Wan’s own uncomfortably. “Once we have the spice, we’ll need to make quick work of the men,” Chakko mutters, breath hot. Obi-Wan resists the urge to move away. “Once they’re out of the picture, it’s a straight shot to Coruscant. Remember, job’s worth a fortune to the Pykes because they gotta get it up to some of those fancy senators.”

“Yes, I remember,” Obi-Wan replies. Something about these undercover missions always rattle his teeth, the very worst of the galaxy’s underbelly coming into uncomfortably clarity.

They duck around a walled off corner, and suddenly, there’s a hidden entrance to the hanger, just large enough for a small, unassuming ship to slide through relatively unnoticed.

Ah, Obi-Wan thinks wryly, making a mental note of the area, so that’s how they’re avoiding Republic detection.

And sure enough, within just a few moments, a sleek, Naboo cruiser slides into their space, coming to a gentle, puttering stop only a few feet before them. The docking ramp lowers, revealing a lone figure clad in familiar dark robes, hood pulled over their head and face.

Chakko sends him a panicked look. They’d been told to expect Black Sun members.

Obi-Wan almost curses. Fighting a fellow Jakku smuggler could potentially have unknown complications he hadn’t planned for.

“Who’re you?” Chakko demands instantly, blaster gripped tight between his fingers. “Come any close and I’ll shoot.”

The figure saunters forward nonetheless, until they’re almost chest to chest with Chakko. In a movement too quick for Chakko to even comprehend, the blaster is ripped from his hold.

Chakko looks to Obi-Wan now, eyes tinged with desperation as his weapon skitters across the floor. He has a vibro-blade tucked away in his boot, but there’s simply no way he’ll be able to unsheathe it in time. Their assailant is simply too quick.

Obi-Wan steps forward, then, wishing fleetingly for his saber. He raises his own blaster as the figure turns their focus to him. “Hello there,” he says smoothly. “Please understand that we don’t want any trouble.”

Chakko makes an undignified noise. “What the kriff you mean – ”

He never gets to finish his sentence though, because he’s thrown back abruptly against the hanger wall. The impact is hard enough that he crumples unconscious, winged body sliding down against the wall.

Obi-Wan takes one look at the attacker’s sheepish shrug and rolls his eyes, pulling off his hood. “Anakin,” he groans.

A face flushed with excitement greets him immediately as Anakin yanks off his own hood, stepping closer. His golden curls are pressed against his forehead in sweat. “Master,” he smiles, eyes squinting with the force of his grin. He scrapes a hand down Obi-Wan’s slightly overgrown beard. “I missed you.”

Obi-Wan sighs despite himself, allows Anakin to step closer and curl his face into his neck. “Anakin,” he tries again to sound disappointed, but his heart thuds traitorously at the feel of his body after so many rotations. “How did you even find me, my love?”

Anakin nips at his jaw, hands clawing at his robes. “I might have misused your Council clearance codes.”

Obi-Wan huffs even as he tilts his head to give Anakin better access. “You’re an idiot,” he murmurs, but the words sound impossibly fond even to Ob-Wan’s own ears. Anakin trembles as he settles his hands on the small of his back.

“Hey,” Anakin complains, stepping back. His eyes are dark, a lazy wave of lust rolling through the force between them. “At least I’m your idiot.”

Obi-Wan spares a last glance at Chakko, who’s still laying face down. “Come,” he pulls Anakin towards the ship. “I’m hoping you at least told Padmé you were going to borrow her ship?”

Anakin follows, still clinging to him. “Of course I did,” he insists, almost indignant. “She said it was fine as long as we didn’t have sex in it.”

As the docking ramp shuts over Jakku, with Anakin’s mouth slanted over his own, Obi-Wan decides that perhaps, just perhaps, what Senator Amidala doesn’t know, couldn’t possibly hurt her.

[fohatic]

some favorite post-CA: Civil War stony fics

fic recs! (i still have *so many* similar stories in my reading list so this compilation is very much a wip...)

Lesser Demons by Sabrecmc

Peggy leaves Steve something in her will. Sequel to Better Angels, but can be read alone.

(i can't link directly to this one due to the author's settings but it's so very worth seeking out!)

Some Great Reward by Kiyaar

After the events of Captain America: Civil War, Tony and Steve come to an agreement. It doesn't involve affection.

(i can't link directly to this one due to the author's settings but it's also very worth seeking out!)

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Steve doesn't think about having sex with Tony Stark. He certainly doesn't plan for it. It happens anyway.

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

He watched Tony eat an entire steak and listened to him talk about the work he was doing on the Milano while he downed glass after glass of expensive scotch. Just as Steve was about to suggest they head back to the jet, Tony finished his last glass, put it down firmly, and said, "I want to blow you." Steve stared at him. "Let's get a hotel room," Tony said, like that was that, and somehow - and Steve never could explain how, not then and not now and not later - it was.

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Tony wakes up with a screaming headache, years into the future, where almost everyone he loves is dead. Stop him if you've heard this one before.

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Steve makes it all the way to Ohio before conceding that the post-Chitauri road trip might’ve been a mistake. Or, ten times Steve has to call Tony to come pick him up.

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

After a messy mission, Tony winds up injured and unfit for duty. To keep the press and anyone else overly interested in the current post-Accords Avengers unaware, Tony elects to hide from the public eye at his cabin in the Canadian wilderness. His plan is simple: lay low and work on his projects until he's recovered enough to make it back. And then Steve shows up.

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

After Steve returns, though they've made up, his relationship with Tony remains distant. Tony deals with that like any reasonable person would - with a lot of alcohol, pining, and The Sims.

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Tony isn't pining. He can’t afford to--doesn't have space for it in his head. It's hard enough just to do his job while wading through the murky waters of post-Accords international politics, and Steve Rogers? He’s a liability, in more ways than one. That's why Tony laid down the law at the end of their last, ill-conceived encounter. “Take care of yourself, Cap. Stay the fuck out of my life.” If only Steve weren’t so lousy at following orders... (aka the one where Steve and Tony have a conversation, and then another conversation, and then bang things out in a hotel. There's a lot more nuance, world building, character detail, emotional turmoil, etc. but, like. In a nutshell. part of a series)

*note that this one's incomplete, but still worthwhile

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Steve Rogers stared at the dimly glowing digital screen of the little burner phone, rereading the text message as if it might somehow give away something he missed the first dozen times he scrutinized it. His frown only deepened, though, brows drawing together with consternation as the 88 characters only left him with an even more ponderous sense of uncertainty. If you meant what you wrote, I'll be at the Swissotel Sarajevo, 4/18. Presidential Suite. 9pm. Come alone. ... Nearly a year after Steve and Tony's fallout—and only weeks after hearing press rumors that Tony and Pepper's engagement was inexplicably called off—Steve gets a message on the dedicated burner phone. Despite his instinctive reservations, he's compelled to answer the mysterious call. An approximately canon-compliant story.

*yep this one's by me -- but it is, in fact, a fave of the genre (to me ☺️)