nobodyexpectsthequnquisition:

solasshole:

naabeyaakig:

europhiliafortis:

dragon age 4

I guessed “beginning of an amazing slash fic” but yeah that too

Oh god that’s the best commentary I’ve heard so far.

challenge fucking accepted

“I need you, Zevran,” the message said.

It was a simple message. Unassuming, but certain - after all, who would have guessed that the President of the United States of America himself would have any need for assassins? Handsome elven assassins, at that?

The Crows could be very discreet, very convenient, and very expensive, of course, but absolutely irreplaceable. Nobody else could take care of the job the way the Crows could. Not even FBI, not even the police. Whatever the President needed, his personal assassin Zevran Arainai was there to give it to him. Anything he would ask for.

A particularly noisy bunch of researchers, asking about the blasted aliens more than was wise? Done.

Self-proclaimed economists questioning the state budget? Done.

Certain terrorising elements, officially taken out by the Navy SEALs? Done.

And the dark nights, when all of the cabinet and staff left, and only the President remained in the dimly lit Oval Room? That was when Zevran stepped out of the shadows of the curtains, and it was… done.

The President had needs, and only Zevran could satisfy them.

So yes, the message was vague. It was surely another murder in the name of Freedom. Or not. But it meant business. It always meant business.

But to Zevran, it meant so much more. More than he would admit, even to himself.

As he exchanged quick glances with the President’s bodyguards and knocked on the door of the Oval Room in his usual bold, confident manner, he had to wonder. Who could it be this time? The President’s time in the office was running out, and it seemed that along with the time, his patience was shortening as well.

“Come in, Mr Arainai.” His voice was rich with deep undertone, as always, and Zevran grinned as he walked in and firmly closed the door behind himself.

The President sat at his desk, reading through a stock of papers. He added his signature to several of them, his long fingers gently stroking the pen in his left hand. It was fascinating to watch, and Zevran found himself flexing his fingers in response.

The President raised his head and met Zevran’s eyes. Those few seconds that passed felt like eternity, and they stared at each other longingly. Then he smiled.

“Ah, there you are. America’s most expensive assassin. And the vainest one, too. Our budget cries every time I see you.”

Zevran laughed. “But I am certainly worth it, yes?”

“You absolutely are,” the President rose from his chair and walked to Zevran. He never broke the eye contact.

Zevran’s stomach knotted.

He smirked in response, determined to not let his feelings show. “Do you have any work for me, sir? Or should I just place myself next to the window as your most handsome decoration, while you sign those important papers of yours?”

“That is not why I asked you to come here, Zevran. You are more than just that. More than a decoration, and more than an assassin.”

“That is true,” Zevran purred. “I am skilled in many more things, my dear President.”

The President chuckled, closing the distance between them. “I know. But you are more to me, as well.”

Zevran froze. His heart fluttered. “You do mean it, yes?”

The President slowly nodded. “I mean it.” He took Zevran’s hand in his, and their long fingers entwined. “I want our relationship to be more than just the President and his assassin.”

“But how could you–” Zevran paused, shock written all over his very handsome face. He coughed into his free palm, his usual charm replaced by utter disbelief. “But what about Michelle? Or the children? What will the press say, does that concern you? Do you realise–”

“I do,” he said, his dark eyes never leaving Zevran’s.

“Could you care for an elf? Do you care?”

“Shh,” the President pressed a finger against Zevran’s hot lips. “Obamacare.”

I AM GOING TO SCREAM OH MY GOD THIS IS BEAUTIFUL