#the audible WHEEZE i had when i got a message from my wife just ‘I DONE FUCK UP AGAIN’

[incorrect-ikevamp-quotes]

o, op pls,,, dazai laughing content,,,, we starvin in ENG pls feed us,, as a treat,,,,

At this point Dazai has legal rights to SLAP my bitch ass, omfg??? I swear I thought I did everyone and then I heard the desperate cries of the Dazai stans and I just......in the loudest, most absurd tone heard in my head “OOPS--I--DID IT A G A I N”. Like. I hate this so much because THIS IS EXACTLY WHAT HE INTENDS TO DO, FLY UNDER THE RADAR AND RECEIVE NO AFFECTION BUT IM NOT GOING TO L E T HIM!!!!!!

I’m so sorry Dazai stans, may I offer these humble laughing hcs for my lack of brain cells:

Okay so like most of the men, his laughter varies a bit depending on what he’s doing. If he’s just teasing Mozart/Isaac, it’s very light and almost tinkling with joy--it’ll be brief but earnest, he really loves messing with the two and getting their inspiration going/giving them a change of pace. 

If he’s with people he doesn’t care for much, his laughter is a little loftier. It will adapt to fit-in with the crowd surrounding him, adjusting in pitch or intensity. It may become lower, or slower, or louder. That being said, the flipside is also true! When he’s with MC who’s laughing heartily at something, for instance, he’ll be much more open about joining her and just letting himself indulge in the moment. Sometimes it’ll be so contagious they’ll just start giggling nonstop until they both manage to calm down :D

[freddie-weaselbee]

E2: The One in New York City//F.W.

Series Summary: FRIENDS but with Harry Potter characters after Hogwarts graduation, trying to figure out their lives and relationships. Non Voldy AU. Begins around the end of FRIENDS season 4 with The Wedding and semi follows plots in season 5. 

Pairing(s): Fred Weasley x Fem!Reader, Romione, Ron x Lavender, Hinny, Georgelina

Warnings: Language, mentions of sex, planned pregnancy

Summary: Years after Hermione came back into their lives, the gang finds themselves traveling to New York City for the wedding of the one and only Ronald Weasley. As tensions rise and feelings are revealed, the group has to take on New York and hope for the best. 

Word Count: 3.6k

A/N: A little taste of the story:  “I’d pee on you any day of the week.” “What the hell did I just walk into?” Message me to join the series or general taglist!

May 2004

“Guys, hurry up! The flight leaves in four hours! It could take time to get a taxi, there could be traffic, the plane could leave early! When you get to New York there could be a line at customs, come on!” Hermoine Granger was racing through the flat of Fred and George Weasley, the one above their infamous joke shop, Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes. She grabbed clothing from their drawers and tossed it haphazardly into suitcases, while the twins in question were lounged out on their sofa observing the scene. 

You sat wedged between the two boys, leaning your head against Fred’s shoulder with your legs draped across George’s lap. You laughed as Hermione was practically hysterical about getting everything ready, even though she wouldn’t even be going to America. 

“Good thing she’s not gonna be on the flight,” Fred whispered into your ear. “A six hour trip to New York? That’s a lot of Hermione.”

Smiling you turned to look at Fred who was holding something in his hand. “What’ve you got there?”

He grinned cheekily and gave you a better look. “Condoms, Y/N! You never know what American hotties I might meet overseas.”

Rolling your eyes you turned to George, who was giving you the same grin. “And I suppose you’re just as prepared as your brother?”

“Of course! Y’know, I feel bad for poor Ronniekins, getting himself all tied down to one woman. Me and Fred, we know how to live, isn’t that right mate?”

“You said it.” You sighed and settled into Fred even more, relaxing for a few minutes before Hermione would drag you all to the airport and you and Harry would be stuck trying to teach the Weasleys how Muggle planes worked. 

There was an audible pop as Ron apparated into the room, standing off by the kitchen. 

“Hey!” he greeted, causing you to sit up from your comfortable position wrapped in Fred’s arm and go meet your friend with a hug. 

“Hey.” You squeezed him tight, noticing how his nerves had overtaken him. 

“Are you ready yet?” he asked, fidgeting with his wand. 

Before you could respond Hermione came barging out of George’s bedroom and threw two suitcases onto the twins’ laps with what could only be described as superhuman strength. “She’s ready. You have the tickets?”

“Harry and Gin do, they’ll be here any second.” The only current couple of the group, and an engaged one at that, suddenly arrived with another loud pop, startling Fred who had begun to count his condoms to make sure he had enough. 

“Hey big brother!” Ginny hugged Ron with enthusiasm, but not as much as Harry showed as he threw himself onto his best friend. 

“You’re getting married Ron!”

“I know!”

They stayed wrapped in their hug as they jumped around and around, George clapping along and laughing at the duo. 

“Don’t know why Lavender would want to marry a specky git like you,” said the younger twin, “but at least we get to travel to the states for it.”

“And have wedding food,” said Fred. 

“Oh and you can’t forget the hot bridesmaids, right boys?” you questioned jokingly. 

They shared a mischievous look. “Never.”

A loud bell sounded through the loft, signaling that someone had come in. 

“That must be Luna!” Ginny exclaimed. She sprinted down the stairs and wrapped the blonde girl in a hug, being gentle as to not crush her or her pregnant belly. 

“Hello Ginny, how are you?”

“Never better! Thanks again for offering to help Hermione watch the apartments and oversee the shop and employees. Ron really wishes you could make it to the wedding, but seeing as you’re about to burst--”

Luna interrupted her old friend with a soft laugh. She was 8 months pregnant with twin boys, and was left home alone for a few weeks while her husband dealt with a work issue in Eastern Asia. Which meant she had plenty of free time to make sure things were running smoothly in London while her friends were overseas. 

The two girls were joined by the rest of the gang who had been pushed down the stairs by a frantic Hermione. “Get going, all of you! You’re going to miss your flight.”

“New York baby!” The twins had jumped down from one of the landings, somehow managing not to injure themselves. Although they were now 26 they were never without their childlike energy. 

“I’m walking here!” cried Fred in a horrid New York accent. 

“Yee haw, cowboy!” said George, doing a little cowboy dance.

You sighed and slapped your head with your hand. “Okay, cause that’s not gonna get annoying.”

They ignored you and continued with their yelling and dancing, dragging as much luggage as they could out the front door of the shop. 

“Well,” said Ron, “we’re all here and ready. I guess we should get going!” Harry and Ginny gave Luna one last goodbye as they followed you out to the alley, leaving only Ron, Hermione, and Luna left in the shop. 

“So, we’re off,” said Ron, a little awkwardly. He and Hermione had a bit of a rough past, having dated on and off for the past few years. But that was all behind them now, and she was happy that he had reconnected with their friend Lavender from Hogwarts and had fallen in love. 

“Have fun, Ron,” replied the bushy-haired girl. 

“Thanks,” he said, giving his friend a tight hug. “Ugh, I can’t believe you’re not gonna be there!”

Hermione sighed and pulled back. “Oh I know, I’m sorry.”

“So-so come! Why don’t you come?”

“What?”

“To New York!” Ron was holding Hermione’s hands and jumping up and down. “Come to New York, please? It’ll mean so much to me.”

Hermione hesitated for a moment. She wanted to go, to have a great trip with her friends and visit the historical places she’d read so much about. But she didn’t have it in her to watch her ex-boyfriend get married to someone else. 

“Yeah, well, I gotta work, I’m sorry. The Ministry is really up my arse these days, pardon my language.”

“Mione, this is my wedding,” he said, giving her his best puppy dog eyes. 

You stuck your head back through the door and called out to them. “Alright, y’know what? Now we really are late, let’s go, let’s go, let’s go!”

Ron sighed and let go of his friend, grabbing his suitcase before heading out the door. “I’ll see you when I get back, Mione. Bye Luna!”

Luna and Hermione both gave small waves as Ron pulled the door shut. A resounding “New York, baby” could be heard even from deep inside the shop, and Hermione giggled as her friends made their way to the London airport. 

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

“Alright,” said Ginny as you all stepped out into the streets of New York City. “Harry and I will help the groom and bride-to-be get everything set up for their big day. Which means you, Y/N, get the honor of babysitting my older brothers.”

“Ginny I can’t handle them all by myself! We’ve been here for less than 5 minutes and look at what they’re doing already.” You all turned to look at the ginger twins, who were standing on top of a map of the city and staring down at it. 

“What is going on with you two?” you asked, but you were quickly silenced as Fred placed his finger on your lips. 

“We’re concentrating. We went in the map so we can figure out where we are.” He kept his finger there until you finally removed it and looked at the map they had made, complete with little pop ups of all the important places they wanted to see. 

“If you see a little version of me in there, kill it.” Harry laughed at your quip and grabbed Ginny’s hand, waving goodbye as the couple and Ron made their way to meet Lavender and her family. 

“We got it!” screamed the twins. They stepped out of the map and started walking right, on to their first tourist destination. “Here we go.”

“Okay, listen,” you said catching up to them, “we’re not gonna have to walk this way the entire time are we?”

Fred shushed you and George groaned. “Y/N, you made me lose it!”

George put the map down and stood back on it. “A lot harder when the map doesn’t change specifically for you and show you exactly where you are, huh?” you asked, referencing the parchment the twins used for years back in Hogwarts. 

They ignored you and took off down the street again, their long legs moving so fast you had to almost sprint in order to keep up the pace. This was going to be a long day. 

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

Meanwhile Harry, Ron, and Ginny had made it to the Brown’s apartment in New York. Although Lavender was raised in England and attended Hogwarts, her extended family lived in the States and her parents moved there after she graduated. The apartment was rather large, but that was no surprise as the Browns were a wealthy family. 

“Oh Won Won!” Ron was greeted at the door with a vibrant Lavender throwing herself into his arms. Ron laughed and spun her around, giving her a quick kiss before finally setting her down. 

“Hey Lavender, I missed you.” He smiled warmly at his fiancee, soon to be his wife. After Padma left him right before he was going to propose years ago, Ron decided not to waste any time in popping the question once he and Lavender started dating. They’d only been going out for a few months before he asked, but despite the worried opinions of their friends they were convinced that this was the right thing to do. 

Lavender pulled Ron down for another kiss, this one much more passionate than the last. “I missed you too.”

They were pulled apart by an awkward cough from Harry, an arm around Ginny who was covering her eyes to avoid watching her brother make out with someone in front of her. 

“Sorry Harry, Ginny,” said Lavender. “It’s great to see you both. Come on in, will you, we have a few last minute preparations to attend to.”

They followed the brunette into her family’s apartment, which was decked out in reception decorations that still needed to be set up. “Where’s the rest of your group? They are coming, aren’t they?”

“Y/N and the twins are out exploring the city,” said Ginny. “I figured you probably didn’t want Fred and George to be around anything important, especially with their history of pyrotechnics. And I don’t trust them alone in the city, so Y/N’s making sure they don’t burn down half of New York.”

Lavender laughed and poured some tea for her friends. “And what about Hermione, is she at the hotel?”

The room suddenly got very tense and Harry quietly sipped his tea, trying to disappear from the awkward scene. 

“Umm,” Ron began, “Hermione’s not coming. She can’t get time off at the Ministry and she’s helping watch over our apartments and take care of Luna.”

Lavender nodded sadly, sighing deeply at the news. “I guess it’s all for the best then. She never did like me, did she?”

“No, that’s not true at all,” Ron argued, taking his fiancee's hands. “She’s just...she takes a while to warm up to people. She really wishes she could be here, but you know how work is.”

The girl smiled slightly at Ron’s comforting words. “Yeah, thanks Won Won.”

He squeezed her hands gently. 

“Alright then,” said Ginny, “what needs to be done? Even though Parvati is your maid of honor and I swear I’m not upset about it--” Harry elbowed Ginny hard, “--I’m still one of your bridesmaids, and I want my big brother’s wedding to be as amazing as possible. So, what should we do?”

“Well,” Lavender said, clapping her hands, “I need a new venue. The one I had was going to be absolutely gorgeous, but they tore it down early, which means we need a new spot.”

Although Lavender said these words calmly, it was obvious that she was on the verge of tears and the stress was getting to her. 

“Got it,” said Ginny. “Let’s go check out the old venue and see if there’s anything we can do. I promise you Lav, this day is going to be amazing, for everyone.”

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

“This is going to be horrible!”

Hermione was pacing around her apartment, the one she shared with you and Ginny. She was packing up Ginny’s belongings for when everyone returned from the wedding. Once Ron moved out of his and Harry’s shared apartment across the hall, Ginny would move in with her fiance, leaving only you and Hermione to share the space. Hermione decided that packing for Ginny would help take her mind off of the wedding, but unfortunately her assumptions were incorrect. 

“What’s the matter?” Luna asked from the sofa, leaning comfortably against a pillow with the Quibbler in her hands. 

Hermione sighed as she continued to pack. “I’m just bummed about the way I left things with Ron. I shouldn’t have lied to him about having to go to work. He seemed so mad at me.”

“Oh, don’t be so hard on yourself,” the blonde said, not looking up from her reading. “If someone I was still in love with was getting married…”

Luna jumped as a vase hit the floor and shattered. She looked up to see a wide-eyed Hermione staring at her. “Still in love with?!”

“Yes,” she said matter-of-factly. 

“I’m not in love with Ron!” Hermione screamed. 

Realization flooded Luna’s face. “Oh, no, good! Yeah, me neither.”

Hermione sat down across from her friend, ripping the Quibbler from her hands and attention. 

“Luna,” she said, “I’m not going to Ron’s wedding because he is my ex-boyfriend and that would be really uncomfortable. Not because I’m still in love with him! I mean, I like Ron as much as the next girl. Clearly I still have feelings for him, but feelings don’t mean love! I mean, I still have loving feelings for Ron. But, but that doesn’t mean that-that I’m still in love with him! I-I have sexual feelings for him, but I do love him--oh!” she gasped at her own words. “Luna why didn’t you tell me?”

“We thought you knew!” she said, surprised that Hermione was for once in her life so oblivious. “We talk about it all the time!”

“You all know?” Hermione asked. “Does, does Ron know?”

“Oh no,” Luna answered calmly. “Ron doesn’t know anything.”

Hermione started pacing once again, this time much more frantically. “Oh, I can not believe you didn’t tell me!”

“We thought you knew!” Luna replied. “It’s so obvious. That would be like telling Ginny ‘hey, you like to play Quidditch,’ or you know, ‘George, you’re gay.’”

The pacing girl stopped dead in her tracks. “What?”

“Oh please,” replied the younger blonde, “she’s always got a broom in her hand!”

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

“Alright! The Empire State Building. Hands down, best State building I’ve ever seen.” George pulled out his Muggle camera, still trying to figure out which buttons did what. They were a lot smaller than the one Colin Creevey used to carry around at Hogwarts and George still hadn’t gotten the hang of using Muggle items. 

“What do you think of the Empire, Y/N?” Fred turned his head to you as he asked his question. Your legs had gotten tired from jogging to keep up with the ginormous twins so Fred had offered to let you ride on his back the rest of the way, an offer you couldn’t refuse. 

You hopped down and quickly covered your eyes to hide from the bright flash of George’s camera. “I don’t know, I can’t see it with that thing blinding me, George.”

He quickly apologized, but not before snapping a picture of Fred wrapping his arms around you and smiling while you glared at the camera. 

“Someone’s grouchy today,” Fred said, swaying you back and forth a few times before releasing his grip. 

“I’m just tired, jet lag y’know?” He nodded and pointed to his back, letting you know it was alright to get back on. You didn’t hesitate to jump onto the redhead as he followed his brother into the massive building in front of you. 

After waiting in line for what seemed like hours you finally made it onto the elevator to take you to the top of the building. George continued to take pictures of anything and everything, including you flipping him off from on Fred’s back. As the doors opened and you stepped out onto the observation deck, you were amazed by the incredible view before you. 

Thousands of tiny buildings filled with thousands of tiny people stood before you, or rather below you. It was like you were on your broom and flying high in the sky, except this time time you didn’t have to focus on keeping your broom in check. You could just stand and stare. 

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Fred came up next to you, leaning on a railing in front of him. He hunched down enough that his face was right next to yours as the two of you stared at The Big Apple. 

“It really is.” You looked around for George, but he was off pestering other tourists to take pictures of him and the city behind him. “Remember when we were playing Quidditch at the burrow, and I flew up this high and stayed there for hours?”

“How could I forget,” Fred laughed. “We had to send search parties for you, thought you had been snatched up by dementors or something.”

“Nope, just got a little distracted by the view.” You continued to watch the amazing landscape and incredible sky, not missing the looks Fred was giving you. “What’re you looking at, Weasley? Don’t tell me that I’m more enchanting than the city. I mean, we all know it’s true but try not to make it so obvious.”

You pinched his cheek and he swatted your hand away playfully. “Don’t be stupid,” he said. “I was just remembering the time I peed on you to combat the jellyfish sting.”

“Fred!” you whisper yelled, laughing as he put his hands up. “We said we would never talk about that again. I don’t need that reminder!”

“I’m sorry, it’s just too good of a story! Really shows the strength of our friendship.”

You rolled your eyes at your best friend. Technically you would’ve considered Ron to be your best friend, as you’d known him the longest and had been the closest with him for so many years. But the past few years, living close to Fred and hanging out with him almost every day, he had become the most important person in your life. He was always there to make you smile or laugh when you had a rough day, or wrap you up in a blanket and watch a movie after a horrid date with some arsehole. He was one of a kind, and you were so glad he was in your life. 

“Y’know what Fred?” you asked, scooting closer to him. “If you ever got stung by a jellyfish, I’d pee on you too.”

Fred wiped away fake tears from his eyes. “I’d pee on you any day of the week, Y/N,” he said, pulling you into a tight hug. 

“What the hell did I just walk into?” George was standing behind you and Fred, having only heard Fred’s last sentence. The two of you cackled with laughter, bringing George into the hug with you and just enjoying the moment. 

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

“Hey Luna?” Hermione called from her bedroom. She and her friend had spent the day discussing her feelings for Ron and trying their best to help her get over him. Apparently recounting the horrors of their relationship was not helping in the slightest. 

“Yeah,” Luna called back from the kitchen. 

“Do you remember where the pygmy puff food is?” Her muffled voice sounded rushed and anxious, even more so than Hermione usually was. 

“Yeah, it’s under the front counter of Fred and George’s shop. Why?”

Luna turned her head to see Hermione come flying into the room dragging a packed suitcase behind her. “Because I’m going to New York.”

The pregnant girl nearly had a heart attack at Hermione’s declaration. “What? What do you mean you’re going to New York?”

Hermione grabbed a few more essentials from around the apartment, rushing in order to catch the next flight. “Yeah, I have to tell Ronald that I love him. Now Luna, you take care, you don’t have those babies until I get back.”

“I--but what about all of the finding his flaws and burning his picture rituals we’ve been doing?” Luna asked, straining to stand up and chase after her friend. 

Hermione easily moved past the slow-moving girl, zipping up her bag and heading to the door. “Yeah, that didn’t work. I know he loves Lavender but I have to tell him how I feel! He deserves to have all of the information and then he can make an informed decision.”

Phoebe shook her head and continued to hobble around the room. “No, Hermione, it’s too late, you missed your chance! I’m sorry, I know this must be really hard, it’s over.”

The other girl paused for a moment and took a deep breath. “Y’know what? No. It’s not over until someone says ‘I do.’” And with that she took off out of the apartment and to the streets of Diagon Alley, on her way to another country to declare her love for Ron Weasley. 

[avengcas]

Everyone always says that Tony has no real superpower or that he wasn't trained in combat, so what would have happened if he was.

Maybe you don't know me at all

Things were not going well. Oh things were not going well at all. The rouge avengers were all agitated, not getting the answers they want because of a stubborn Stark. Not that Tony had any obligation to comply with the traitors in any way whatsoever. Tensions soared as soon as the ex avengers realised that Tony was in no mood to deal with them and now Clint is about to receive the message from Laura as well as the divorce papers curtesy of the very man he was glaring daggers at. 

“Laura feels like you are not acting in the best interest of her and your children’s safety and well being therefore has decided to file for a divorce.” Tony said suddenly, cutting Cap’s angry rant off. 

Yes saying something so tragic out of the blue, like that, at a time like this, with tensions as high as they were was probably not the best way to tell a man that his wife wants to leave him, but it’s not like they took his feelings into consideration. Besides, the divorce is the actual wound. Tony is just taking pleasure in sprinkling salt on top. 

The room goes so silent that you could hear a pin drop, cliché but true, as they all absorb the information that Tony has just revealed. 

Clint, looking confudled, slowly stood up, pointing a finger at Tony. “That’s not funny Stark.” Tony tilted his head, looking like an innocent puppy. “And I’m not laughing.” Clint’s eyes shrank to slits, like he was trying to figure something out. 

Sighing at how these people seem to be achieving a whole new level of stupid, he held out the envelope. The others just watch Tony warily, and even Nat seemed a little worried. Clint cautiously walked over, ignoring Tony’s tapping foot, a sign of impatience. He then quickly grabbed it, like he wasn’t expecting Tony to let it go and put some distance between the two, before reading it, earning a raised eyebrow from the annoyed billionaire. 

All but Tony, who was texting Peter, watched Clint’s reaction as his face dropped and his eyes widened, panicked. As soon as he finished the letter, the papers slipped from his hand and fell to the floor. 

“Careful. You wouldn’t want to loose those.” Tony said casually not bothering to cover up the boredom in his voice. An angry growl from Clint made him look up from his phone and he was met with the infuriated eyes of the modern day Robbin Hood. Tony offered a smile which looked suspiciously close to grin (it was a grin) and Clint planned 101 ways that he could wipe it off of the man’s face. 

“What did you tell her.” Clint growled lowly, the question sounding more like a demand. “What?” Tony asked, pretending not to hear Barton. “WHAT DID YOU TELL HER!” Clint shouted talking a few steps towards the genius who stood up in response, instinctually putting his hand up. 

The archer, unfazed by Tony’s bare hands pointing at him, stepped closer, ready to force an answer out of Stark if he needed to. As soon as he moved, nanotech slithered its way to Tony’s hand and incased it in a repulser. The rest of the super ’heros’ stood up too, ready to defend Clint if they had to. 

“Tony, no one needs to get hurt. Can you please just try to have a civilised conversation for once?” Tony didn’t even glance at Cap, he just scoffed. He didn’t reply though. He never rarely does. 

Tony has realised that, despite accusing Bruce of ‘rolling over and showing his belly’ all the time, he seems to do the exact same thing. 

Sure he will stand up for himself when necessary, and yeah, he basically never does what people tell him to, but now he thinks about it, the Avengers has been taking advantage of his wealth for a long time and he did nothing. Maybe it was because he thought they were his friends. A mistake on his part really because look how they have repaid his generosity. 

For years they were milking his money, living in his home, consuming his food, drinking his resources. And he just let them. But now they have come back, hoping- no demanding that things go back to normal, that Tony is the one who has to look after them. He is done being their bank. They can stay at the compound, but that is all they will be getting from him. 

They have awoken a beast who will growl and snap at anyone who gets to close, and now they are pushing boundaries. Tony is done rolling over and showing his belly. He used to let them walk all over him. And for that, they have hell to pay.

“I should ask you the same question? Because you didn’t seem to know what it was in Siberia.” Rogers eyes grew hard. “You attacked Bucky.”

“I was emotionally unstable.”

“You don’t know what emotions are.”

“Really? Then what do you call my reaction is Siberia then. Did I just attack for no apparent reason. Just because I felt like it? Or maybe I actually had a motive! Anger? Grief? Betrayal!?” 

Tony was now staring directly into Steve’s icy eyes, challenging him. “I don’t owe you guys anything. You all turned your back on me, when I was trying to find a middle ground between the UN and the Avengers. Even when I stressed that the accords were amendable. Even when I came as a friend.” Tony inwardly smirked at the satisfaction he felt to see hurt pass through the soldiers eyes, even if it was momentarily. 

“I was trying to help you, to stop you being confined to a life of crappy motels, worried about being arrested at any second. I wanted to keep the avengers together but no, you all left me to follow Captain America, the righteous soldier, who can’t be wrong, right? I actually almost believed that once. Until I saw the real Steve Rogers.” Steve looked away and everyone else stood there gob smacked. 

Clint however, wasn’t buying any of it. “Cap is the one in the wrong here? You confined a kid in the compound!” Clint shouted. 

“She’s in her mid twenties, she’s not a kid.” Tony countered, thinking of his very own kid at the time. This enraged Clint further. 

“You left us to rot in that prison!” 

“I didn’t know they would keep you in an underwater raft, only that you would be locked up, because you were currently criminals.”

“You lied to Sam, and went to find Steve and Bucky so you could stab them in the back!” Clint argued. 

Tony turned to look at Steve who was looking anywhere else but at his eyes. Tony then felt the urge to laugh. And he did. He laughed to the point that he was wheezing, then laughed some more. The laugh was not one of humour. No. It sent chills down all of their spines. It was a dangerous, slightly passive aggressive laugh. Everyone watched the genius like he was crazy. Maybe he was. What did it matter? He eventually calmed down, wiping tears from his eyes as he gasped out, “Why am I not surprised? Of course, no, OF COURSE he didn’t tell you. Looks like you have some explaining to do Cap.” He chuckled as his nanotech returned to his new arc reactor and he spun on his heels, walking out of the room. 

As he neared the door, he felt a rush of air behind him and moved just in time to dodge Clint’s punch, aimed to the back of his head. Without thinking, he grabbed the archer’s hand and send a punch back while twisting the arm behind his back. Using his other leg, he tripped Barton to the ground, savouring he audible thump, sounds like a rib, and placing his knee on the back of the stunned agent’s neck. 

The rest of the Avengers watched with wide eyes, as Tony displayed grace and power only a highly skilled martial artist could have. 

Realising what he had done, Tony quickly got off Clint, who was groaning in pain on the floor, and straightened his suit. 

Suddenly a fluid in the form of a web, owned by one one person on the whole earth, flew through to air, sticking the injured Avenger to the ground. “Well I guess the genies out of that bottle.” Peters youthful voice spoke up from the other end of the room. “And I guess mine too. So many secrets being revealed today.” 

Tony rolled his eyes but nevertheless less, rushed over to the teen and shielded him from the rest of the avengers with his body. “What?” Steve spluttered out, reflecting to expressions of the rest. Even Nat looked shocked, and that is something. 

“My dad sent me to boarding school when I was young and they trained me to become a spy, assassin, agent, ninja, whatever you want to call it. I know cliché same old boring story. I had bad memories of the place so I locked it up, along with my skills but you broke me Cap. That mess in Siberia, it snapped the very chains that kept it locked up.” Peter tensed at the mention of Siberia. He knew the whole story. And let’s just say it didn’t put Cap into his good books. 

“I didn’t know you at all.” Cap looked at Tony, disappointed. “Well, that makes the two of us.” Tony hit back. “C’mon kid. If I spend another second with these idiots, I’ll loose another 100 brain cells. Had more than enough drama for one day.”

“Yeah,” Peter agreed, “I’m pretty sure my IQ has dropped down to 200.” And with that the two casually walked off, Tony asking Peter about his Math test. Well they walked off, not without Peter sending back at glare at Cap so full of hate, that it shouldn’t be possible for a 17 year old to produce such a dangerous look.

Hello

[tarysande]

Fic Update: Any Four Walls: Active Duty

On AO3

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Active Duty

Time off active duty hadn’t dulled Shepard’s sense of impending danger. Now, of course, that instinct mostly came in handy when Rose was about to attempt something doomed to end in blood and a trip to the hospital. Still, as she sat off to the side around a crowded table watching her husband attempt to both smooth ruffled feathers and remain firm about the political stances the still-new Council deemed important, the prickle of the skin at the back of her neck went from mildly irritating to downright distracting. Had she been in the field, it would have been enough to make her draw her weapon. She simply couldn’t put her finger on why. Splitting political hairs was nothing new, after all, no matter how heated the opposition.

Her lips twisted in a self-deprecating smile and dragged her hands through her hair in an attempt to soothe herself. Doubtless it was something ridiculous. Probably some deep-seated fear for the children, though Shepard had ample proof Solana was capable of rising to any occasion—even if that occasion was two bundles of giggles, pranks and inexhaustible energy. She glanced at the time. Half an hour until the next scheduled break; she’d call then, even if it meant enduring Solana’s inevitable ribbing about people who worried too much.

The prickle did not subside.

When a turian aide entered quietly and began scanning the room, the feeling of not right, not right, be on alert only intensified. His gaze lingered for a moment on Garrus, then shifted until it landed on her. This was followed by a brief, beckoning gesture. She rose at once, moving along the outside of the room as stealthily as she was able to without actually resorting to using her tactical cloak.

Nothing good ever came of aides interrupting meetings to whisper in ears. Especially when they wore expressions as serious as this one wore.

Garrus, speaking calmly at the front of the room while another politician shouted at him about impossible demands, ridiculous concessions, never paused, but she felt his eyes follow her out. If she knew him—and she did—he’d find a way to wrap things up without anyone realizing he’d maneuvered the end of the meeting far too early.

He was getting good at that. Diplomacy. It might have made her smile, if the abrupt appearance of the turian aide hadn’t struck such a discordant, sour note in her.

What do you need me to do?

But no, it wasn’t that, not anymore. Now it was, what’s happened to the children?

The turian didn’t quite meet her eyes. He hunched a little into his cowl, mandibles pulled tight to his face. “Comman—sorry, Admiral. Admiral Shepard. I’m sorry to interrupt—”

“I’m sure you’ve got a good reason, Lieutenant…?”

He blinked at her. His eyes were very green. His markings were the same color. Though it was never particularly easy to place a turian’s age—not for her, anyway—she had the distinct impression this one was still very new to his commission. “Vatix, ma’am. And yes, ma’am. Uh, General Fedorian sent me.”

A mantle of cold clarity settled over her. She saw every anxious twitch in the turian standing before her. She heard the faint metallic whirr of the environmental systems, and over that the faintest hum of Garrus’ voice. If she’d been wearing a hardsuit, she’d have already pulled up her HUD, she’d have already been planning.

The aide looked very much as though he anticipated being the messenger doomed to get shot after delivering his message. With every nerve singing, every instinct she’d thought dormant pulled taut, she could not actually bring herself to disabuse him of this possibility.

“Go on. Is there a reason Naxus didn’t come himself?”

“Comms are dampened in here. As you know. To prevent interruptions?”

“I am aware, Lieutenant Vatix. Could we skip to the message, please? Is it Solana? The children?”

Whatever he saw on her face made the aide cough and continue quickly, “Oh. Yes, of course. Sorry, ma’am. No, he didn’t mention his wife or your children. He asked me to escort you to his office.”

“To what purpose?”

“He didn’t elaborate. Only said it was urgent.”

She closed her eyes for the moment it took to inhale a sharp, annoyed breath. “You could have opened with that, Lieutenant. Let me get Garrus—”

“He asked for you, ma’am. He said it wasn’t something, uh, requiring Councilor Vakarian’s presence.” Vatix shifted from one foot to the other. “He did have a human visitor with him.” His mandibles flicked once before drawing tight to his face once again. “Sorry, ma’am. I—should have mentioned that. He did tell me to.”

“Yes,” she agreed, narrowing her eyes and gesturing for him to precede her. “Lead on, Lieutenant.”

After two or three attempts at conversation were met with yet more nervousness and single-syllable, stammered replies, Shepard fell into silence at Vatix’s side. Her skin did not stop its incessant prickling. Her fingers itched to close around the grip of a pistol, and it took some effort to keep the bland smile on her face and her hands still at her sides. Vatix, she noted, did not have her self-control; his long digits tapped a random, nervous pattern against his thigh.

“So, is it hero worship or hate?” Shepard asked, after turning down two different hallways—each emptier than the last—and enduring another agonizing minute of total silence. “No judgement. Just curious.”

“Sorry?” Vatix asked, and though she was not nearly as expert at reading other turian subharmonics as she was Garrus and Tyrra, the young lieutenant’s discomfort was palpable even to her.

“Effortlessly being able to start conversations is something of a point of personal pride,” Shepard returned, carefully modulating her own voice. Friendly. Even. Interested. “I can’t figure out why you won’t oblige me.” She smiled mildly. “I’m not used to being thwarted. I figure you’re nervous because you’ve heard one too many exaggerated stories, or you hate my guts. Either’s fair.”

Vatix didn’t laugh. His fingers stopped tapping and immediately headed for the flap of the pocket they’d been dancing over during the entire length of their walk. Her skin burned. Before she could second-guess herself—or let the words galactic incident—override her instinct and the relatively unsubstantiated evidence she’d collected, she wrapped her fingers around his reaching wrist, spun to catch his arm behind his back, and brought one foot down on the back of his left spur with just enough pressure to ensure he froze. His audible breath wheezed with barely controlled pain. Wrex would’ve said Vatix had a quad; Shepard knew how damned sensitive—and vulnerable—an unarmored spur was. She had, of course, been counting on it.

“You want to tell me what’s really going on here, Vatix?”

“General Fedorian—”

“Wouldn’t have sent you. He’d have sent someone who knows damned well I can find his office without help.” He tried to rise up to give himself leverage to ease her pressure on his arm, but this only brought more weight down on his spur. His breath came in swift and shallow gasps. “Not my first rodeo. And I’m good with maps.”

Vatix said nothing. She put a little more of her weight on his spur, feeling the give. She didn’t think the high-pitched whine he emitted was intentional. “You want to try again?”

“It’s too late, anyway,” Vatix gasped.

Much as she wanted to finish the work she’d started on his spur, she wanted answers more. She twisted his arm further, pulling it nearly from its socket. Plates weren’t much use at the joints. Part of the reason for the bulkiness of turian armor was protection at those weakest junctures. Vatix wasn’t wearing armor any more than she was, and whatever advantage his height might have given him in hand to hand was lost to her strength and better positioning.

What do you need me to do?

“For what?” she snarled, applying just enough pressure to make him yelp. With her free hand, she reached into the pocket he’d been toying with and retrieved a syringe prepped full of a liquid she couldn’t identify. Her guts twisted and she swallowed down the bile and bitter panic that always threatened to overwhelm her when she saw needles. Of all the goddamned ridiculous things. “You’ve got about thirty seconds before I use one of the half-dozen ways I know how to kill your species without needing a weapon.” Her fingers tightened reflexively around the syringe. “Or maybe I’ll just give you a taste of your own medicine, here. Whatever the hell it is.”

“You think I’m afraid to die? I just needed to get you out of the way. And I did. I did. Your time is done.” Vatix’s subharmonics steadied; even through the pain, Shepard heard the confidence. The zealotry. She wished she didn’t have quite so much experience with zealotry; the tenor of it was unmistakable. And terrifying. “You think we’re blind? No. We see your fingerprints on everything Vakarian does. We know his face is the mask you wear to control the weak turians who wish only for new overlords to appease. We’ve had enough. We will have turian sovereignty again, free from humanity’s pestilent influence. We carried your people through the war and—”

Shepard didn’t let him finish. “So it was hate then. Good to know.”

The steps of this dance were familiar, for all she’d been avoiding practicing. Like a waltz. One-two-three, one-two-three; nothing so complicated as a tango. On one, she finished dislocating his shoulder. On two, she shattered his left spur beneath her foot. On three, she crushed the other, effectively hamstringing him. Another turn around the floor would’ve seen him cooling in a pool of his own blue blood, but she paused, thinking of his words, his warning. Thinking about time.

By the time he hit the floor, screaming, Shepard was already running.

[ezlebe]

I wrote this in like three hours after an unsolicited badgering of various ideas at poor @claricechiarasorcha​ that I sort of tried to incorporate into 2.2k words, and it’s like officially too late to be a Valentine’s Day thing, but it kind of is. 

Anyway, as with most of my tumblr fic, it’s hardcore unedited.

“General – “

“I believe I sent a memo not to be disturbed,” Hux interrupts, raising his brows and waiting for the moment when Captain Andrian walks away; it doesn’t come. “Was I not clear?”

“You were, sir,” Captain Andrian says, nodding shortly and speaking in a quick, clipped rush after their next breath, “However, Lord Ren refuses to be turned away. He says that we’re not high enough rank to… to give him directives.”

Hux glances across the table, watching as the Senator tips their head with a reluctant sort of patience. The cakes between them are colorful and petit, and Hux has been rather eager to sample them since the moment the Senator’s aide laid them out. 

“I assume he’s behind you?” Hux says, looking back up. He feels both satisfied and frustrated at the answer coming in the form of a wider flourish of the curtain by a moron in a black cloak. 

“General,” Ren greets, shoving past Andrian, who bows out with an awkward shuffle backward and behind the privacy curtain. “It couldn’t wait.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” Hux says, feeling a dry, unamused smirk settle across his lips, “Did you forget the passcode to your quarters again?”

The Senator stares at Ren with the sort of baffled intimidation most get at first meeting. He slowly looks back to Hux, obviously confused, and then back to Ren like it’s expected of him to pay attention to whatever fickle need is called upon to be fulfilled at this very moment. 

Ren ignores him completely, keeping his approximation of eyes on Hux, and lifts his chin with obvious determination. “You shouldn’t waste your time here.”

“’Waste my time’,” Hux repeats, leaning forward in his seat and settling his elbows onto the table, gesturing cyclically with a single hand, “Would you elaborate?” 

“Oh stars,” the Senator yelps without warning, hands up around his temples and half clenched at the air. He groans in the next moment, squeezing his eyes shut, “What is – what is that? It’s like – it’s as if I’m suffering a brain freeze.”

“I’m reading your mind,” Ren says, speaking slowly and taking an audible breath, his put-upon sigh loud through the vocoder. “You’ve entrapped General Hux here under false pretenses, bringing him food prepared in a bakery famously favored by General Organa of the Resistance.”

The Senator gapes upward, expression blanching as he turns to Hux with mild panic. “I swear I didn’t know that, General. I just – I know they’re popular, that’s all.”

“Senator, don’t listen to him,” Hux says, lifting a hand in a half-hearted attempt to stave off the inevitable. “He’s only toying with you.” 

“He is also married, but it’s not going well,” Ren continues, unheeded and doubtlessly smug underneath his helm, head tipping to the side with familiar arrogance, “He cannot satisfy his wife due to fading attraction from her part and a persistent case of erectile dysfunction as consequence of spice abuse. He’s taken some sort of… supplement for tonight.”

“Toying with me?” the Senator says, voice rising in offended pitch, “He’s slandering me.”

“I think you’re uneducated on the definition of slander, Senator,” Hux says, realizing quickly that he’s far less averse at events than he would if actually interested in the man. In fact, he’s actually feeling a little entertained for the first time all night; thankfully, Ren isn’t in his head.

“You think this is you doing Hux a favor, charity for an outsider who you’d never let step foot on your planet,” Ren says, hand twitching at his side and shifting forward, laying flat on the table in front of the Senator, “A consequential easy - ”

“I – I refuse to suffer this any longer,” the Senator announces, shoving up from the table with a telltale pinching of stress around his eyes. 

“Senator, if you would – or just leave, sure,” Hux sighs, staring at the gently swinging curtain as it falls behind the Senator’s outburst. He looks up, narrowing his eyes at Ren, “And you have, once again, ruined my plans for the night completely, Ren. Is it some sort of odd hobby you have now?”

“You don’t even remember his name,” Ren says, slumping into the emptied seat with a heavy exhale through the modulator. 

Hux feels a frown curling at his lips, an urge to tell Ren to get out resurfacing, “I didn’t let you into my head.”  

“You didn’t need to,” Ren says, looking back up with a short, mocking tip of his head. “You addressed him as simply a Senator three times.”

“Ah,” Hux says, narrowing his eyes; he reaches forward and takes a small, white powdered star in hand. “Point.”

“Do you realize why he wanted to share these with you?”

“Political clout through romantic entanglement,” Hux says, taking a bite and nearly whimpering in surprise as a burst of syrupy fruit escapes the middle, flavor spreading sweetly across his tongue. He swallows quickly, reaching next for one of the red-frosted bars. “These are quite good; I can see why Organa’s gotten her tiny hands on them.”

“No, Hux, do you seriously – ” Ren stops, falling quiet for a few moments before reaching up for his helmet, depressurizing with a slow hiss, “Nevermind.”

“I know it’s some sort of holiday similar to Life Day,” Hux amends, giving a short shrug. He’d given little thought toward the matter aside from a chance for food that hasn’t been freeze dried for rations, “Gift giving, et cetera.”

“Marginally,” Ren confirms, an odd, frustrated curl at his mouth.

“Have one, then,” Hux says, gesturing toward the plate with his chin just before biting into his second pastry; he’s going to be terribly sick in a few hours. “Now that you’ve humiliated the man, may as well finish the job.”

Ren neglects to move for a long moment, a markedly discontented grimace at his mouth.

“What?” Hux says, hearing his voice grow bitter only somewhat out of his control, “Been to the establishment so often you’re sick of it?”

“No,” Ren says, a far too intense look in his eyes for the sight of a powdered confection. “She often took her aides there when the Senate was on Coruscant, but that was long after I got sent away.”

Hux watches Ren bite hesitantly into a chocolate heart, and glances away before anything like pity can manifest. He hardly has his own contented childhood, but it always ruins his favored mocking of spoiled princes when Ren gets too honest for present company. A message lights up on his data pad, blessedly drawing his attention before he can ruminate on it toward any further end.

“Romantic,” Ren says, his voice strangely loud after a long few minutes of silent eating. 

Hux glances up from his data pad, feeling a mortifying, completely uncalled for flash of heat behind his ears. “I’m sorry?”

“The holiday,” Ren says, catching Hux’s eyes for a fleeting moment, then looking back to the table. “It’s not really like Life Day. It is… exclusively for lovers.”

“Oh,” Hux says, recalling the Senator’s surprise at his acceptance with new understanding. “I see.”

“Little more than meant to… to make everyone else feel uncared for,” Ren continues, his voice practically a bitter snarl, slowly sinking into a mumble. “It’s a foolish holiday.”

“I take it you’ve never participated,” Hux says dryly, coming to the conclusion with very little leap of the imagination. He shifts in his seat, leaning up and reaching for the sparkling wine, and pours a liberal amount into one of the thin glasses the Senator had generously forgotten. “Tragic.”

Ren responds with a harsh glare, reaching for Hux’s plate and blatantly stealing the last of the powdered, fruity pastries. He shoves it in his mouth with little of the reverence it deserves, sneering with unwarranted triumph. 

“Now there was no reason for you to do that,” Hux says, “We were almost having a conversation.”

“You were mocking me,” Ren says, his tone offended, shoulders squaring up as he straightens in his seat with a curious sort of vanity. 

“Maybe if you were a little more approachable…”

“I’m never going to toady a Centrist turncoat for sweets,” Ren sneers, gesturing over the table with revulsion even as he holds a pastry in hand, spreading powdered sugar across everything. 

“I toady to no one,” Hux says dismissively, rolling his eyes with an affected laugh low in his throat, “I have massive weapons to bring these shallow individuals into my corner.”

Ren scoffs low under his breath, a badly hidden smirk prominent at the corner of his mouth. “Were you really going to draw him further into your ‘corner’?”

“Unlikely,” Hux admits, tutting shortly and taking a slow drink of his glass, sparing a few seconds more thought toward the question. “You witnessed for yourself how very little backbone he possessed, even for a politician.”

“He ran,” Ren agrees, glancing upward with a bizarre look in his eyes, almost proud. “Tail between his legs.” 

Hux nods shortly, mourning one of the few chances to have trapped some sort of influential paramour. In theory, the Senator would’ve been a very good ally to, quite literally, have in hand. “Not to mention he’s apparently incapable of fulfilling the contract, so to speak.”

A silence falls over the booth again – Hux drinking the fruity wine; Ren taking another unasked for pastry. He looks up with a short breath, a familiar, yet unrecognizable look in his eyes, “Hux, I was – ” 

The curtain swings open abruptly for the second time, this time without even a polite warning, “General, your Captain told me you were still – who is – ?!”

It takes barely an instant for the Senator to be gasping, wheezing and shoved up against the wall, leaving welts of red from clawing at his own exposed neck. He reaches out with a shaking hand toward Hux, eyes panicked and desperate like a suffering prey animal. 

“Oh, Ren,” Hux sighs, standing from his seat after slowly wiping his hands. He leans into Ren’s side, curling his hand shortly around a wide shoulder, “Let him go.”

The Senator drops to the floor, taking deep, gasping breaths and gawking upward with fright, “General, w-what is – is this some m-m-manner of game?”

“Maybe,” Hux says, crouching down in front of the fallen senator with a low hum. He reaches forward and presses two fingers to the Senator’s forehead, urging him to settle the crown of his head flat against the wall. “I am slightly enjoying it. Ren?”

“Yes,” Ren says, his voice low, and when Hux looks back, he finds a face half covered in hair as haphazard attempt to disguise. It makes him look an utter madman. 

“I admit I do admire the sheer ego it must have taken to come back here,” Hux says, glancing back to the Senator, raising a single brow with little amusement. 

“I should rescind my allegiance,” the Senator spits, scrambling up to more comfortable posture against the wall, though not daring to actually stand. “Tell others of this disrespect toward your benefactors.”

Hux rolls his eyes, shaking his head as if disappointed, “If Lord Ren could pick out your erectile dysfunction with little effort, how soon do you think he’d find other things, Senator?”

The Senator heaves a few more breaths, eyes glancing quickly between Hux and Ren before falling back to the floor, shoulders curling in on his head. It takes a few more moments, but he’s soon shaking his head, “I apologize, General.”

“Best leave us be,” Hux says, standing and wiping his hand against the fabric of his trousers, more for the way the Senator purses his lips than any true feeling of filth. “Don’t you think?”

The Senator flees again through the curtain with little more prompting, hands clumsily shoving it out of his way and nearly tearing the entire thing down. It must certainly be a blow to do such a thing twice in less than an hour. 

“How old were you again,” Hux asks, looking sideways and catching Ren’s eye, “When you defected? Or were reborn, or however it is you classify it.”

Ren stares back, distrustful, then glances with a slow exhale, “Twenty-two.”

Hux tips his head, reaching for his wine from the table and doing paltry math in his head. It’s at least four years flat of opportunity missed, perhaps longer with the level of bitterness, and Hux decides on a short course of action before he can talk himself out of it. He puts the empty glass back on the table, lifting his chin, “How is it coming, then?” 

“What?”

“For your first lovers holiday celebration,” Hux says, raising his brows with an arrogance he’s having some difficulty truly feeling – he’s out on a very thin wire. “Obviously.”

Ren continues to look baffled for a long moment, then becomes outright mortified, glancing to the floor with a pitiful twinge around his eyes, “Stop mocking me.”

“Oh, never,” Hux teases, putting out a hand to stop the flight of Ren’s helmet, durasteel hitting his palm hard before it drops to the floor with a metallic bang. The helmet is a cover for shame, not anger, which is something of a good sign, “Do you know how often I get to outright threaten people?”

Ren answers with a fleeting sneer upward, shaky across his mouth. 

“Not often enough,” Hux says, taking a step closer, slow and careful of inciting some manner of bolting. He hesitantly sets his hand on Ren’s arm, thumb just barely pressing into the curl of a bicep, “So I would say mine is going terribly well. And from your unsolicited bursting in here to defame that sad excuse for a Senator, I assume you’re quite interested in making it just a little better?”

Ren stares for a long moment, practically made of stone before a telltale tic travels across his clenched jaw. “He wasn’t suitable.”

“Hardly anyone is,” Hux agrees, leaning in a few centimeters further, fairly shocked himself in the next instant to meet an answering press of lips.