#is it automatic? like a 'oh. instructions. ill follow them' or does he Know who's talking to him or or or | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

doof-doofblog · 3 years

Text

"Hello, Sis!"

Tuesday 6th April 2021

Hello again everyone! Wow! Feels like it's been a while since I last posted, I had a very busy week last week and again this week being back at work! I'm sure you must all be happy regarding the lockdown easing ever so slowly! I've come to the realisation that now I'm back to the day job, my posts will have to be done in the evenings, so I apologise if some of them seem late from now on. I'm planning on possibly doing another blog post tomorrow and then a double on Thursday in an attempt to catch up! I know the majority of you have already seen last week's episodes, it seems I have a lot of catching up to do!

We know that things are supposed to be kicking off this week (commencing 12th April) due to the return of Nancy Carter and the possible outcome of Kush's trial? I do have a fear Kush may be killed off and become another victim of Gray's but I am hoping that that doesn't happen! But before we can even begin to get excited about it, I need to post about the episodes that you guys have seen, but unfortunately I haven't.

So without further ado, I'm going to begin chatting about Isaac. It seems that Sheree seems to have overstepped the mark regarding both Lola and Patrick. I mean of course she is acting as the concerned Mum and Wife, but she needs to realise that there are some things she can't interfere with. Patrick has been offered the opportunity to go on blood thinners as an experiment for stroke victims - (at least that's the jist I got from it anyway!) - but Sheree is standing her ground claiming she doesn't want her husband to take part in it, purely because she fears for his health. Again, I can understand her concern but she can't stop Patrick from doing something he may want to do, considering he's already suffered two strokes whilst on the Square, he'll want to do his part in helping other victims.

But also where Lola is concerned, Sheree is still interfering in her son's relationship, for a brief moment it looked as if she had scared poor Lola off! Finally Isaac has sat his Mum down and told her straight to stop interfering with everybody's lives, even claiming that some times she can come across as controlling, even though her concern comes from a good place. For the first time in a long time, Isaac is feeling ready to enter another relationship, and he informs her Mum that with Lola, it feels right, he's slowly falling for her and there could be chance that she is feeling the same and the relationship could become serious?!

As Isaac instruct his Mum to kind of back off, Lola appears to have escaped to the Vic. Oh and once again Peter seems it's necessary to poke his nose into business that has nothing to do with him! Urgh, I really don't know about any one else, but for me personally - Peter is one of the worst characters the soap has right now, not in the sense of villainy, but just as a whole - his attitude towards his family, thinking he's the big I AM, urgh I don't like him, I really don't! Something has to change with this Peter I think, what about you guys?! Do you agree or do you think I'm being a little bit harsh? Either way he insults Lola and manages to persuade her to tell him what's on her mind. Believing he's a trusted friend, Lola confides in Peter, informing him about Isaac's diagnosis - something I fear she will possibly live to regret. But after her meeting with Peter, she eventually meets up with Isaac in the club and he informs her to not let his Mother scare her off, Isaac has full control over his illness right now and there would be no way for Lola to trigger any kind of breakdown. Let's hope things remain this way, right? But something is telling me that with all this positivity and reassuring that Isaac is fine and he has everything under control, something is telling me that eventually Isaac will have some form of breakdown and hopefully EastEnders will be able to have an opportunity to portray what having schizophrenia is really like!

Oooooo and what is this?! A possible new love interest for Bernie?! It's about bloody time!!! So, I'm sure the majority of you know that the Taylor family have taken in a new dog named Banjo after finding him on the streets and assuming he was a stray. Unfortunately, since the dog has been in their possession, some flyers advertising the lost dog have been spreading around the Square. Mitch was the first one to notice them, but not wanting to break his young daughter's heart, after their new family member has brought her so much happiness, he disposed of the flyer and never said a word about it to his family.

Now after this young girl seems to catch her eye on the Square, denying to Bailey that she's does not have a crush on her, she claims that she was just interested in the girl's flyer's. As Bailey goads her to ask for one, Bernadette comes to realise what the girl is advertising. (Also just zooming through the end credits of the episode now, there happen to be two female names of who this young lady could be - "Clara" or "Molly" - It'll be interesting if she was to show up again!) Taking the flyer back home, Bernie sadly informs her Mum and Mitch that a girl is out there looking for her dog, who they happen to have living with them, and his name isn't Banjo, it's Ziggy!

At first it seems the Taylor's are in a bit of a denial, it's understandable that they've grown to love the dog, but when Karen calls him by the name "Ziggy", the dog automatically responds. Bernie claims that they have to do the right thing and return the dog to it's rightful owner, however Mitch is looking deeply suspicious as Karen realises that he knew about the flyer's a couple of weeks ago and never said anything. He claims he didn't want to break Bailey's heart after all the loss she's had in recent months. It's then that Karen happens to agree with Mitch and states that the dog will be staying with them. They instruct Bernie to call the girl up and give her false story about the dog. Poor Bernadette isn't one for lying, so it's quite funny and yet sweet when she attempts to make up a story about the dog being lashed into a van to the unknown female. But it seems the girl can see right through Bernie and claims that she saw the way she was looking at her in the Square and offers to buy her a drink. Even though Bernie is already hiding the fact that she has her dog, could this be the start of new relationship for her?!

Ooh yea, so Ruby and Lily are still at loggerheads with each other! After devastatingly realising that Lily has cut her deceased Mum's wedding dress to pieces, Ruby is demanding that Lily leaves the house. Even though Lily isn't Ruby's biggest fan right now, it's clear that she had no idea that the dress belonged to her Mum, but it turns out she might've known that it was a special piece of clothing as Ruby states the dress was kept in a box at the back of her cupboard.

As Martin sends his daughter upstairs to get changed out of Ruby's clothes, he begins to think of some kind of punishment for his daughter, informing his wife that Lily is simply just missing her Mum. However it seems that Ruby's day goes from bad to worse, after discovering the state of her Mother's ripped dress, she informs her husband that she got a call from the clinic. It turns out the Ruby could most likely have endometriosis and that their fears about not having any more children is more likely. Devastatingly, endometriosis is severe and it could mean that she may not be able to have any more children in the future, sadly the one she lost might've been her only chance of being a Mum.

Understandably devastated for his wife, Martin realises he needs to do something to cheer her up. As Lily recovers from changing out of Ruby's clothes, Martin informs Ruby that Lily's punishment is to give her no access to any electronics for a week, and in an attempt to make things up to Ruby, Lily "apparently" has offered to give up her birthday money if it means there could be a way to salvage the ruined wedding dress. Ruby is visibly touched by the kind gesture, claiming that she didn't mean what she said about wanting her to move out, she claims that being her Stepmother - she'll always have a place to stay with them. Lily just simply smiles.

As Martin informs his wife of bubble bath waiting for her upstairs, Ruby thanks her Stepdaughter once again and leaves the room. As Martin follows, giving her the thumbs-up, it seems as if they think Lily will be okay and there'll be no more issues, but from the look on Lily's face, she really doesn't seem happy. Something was telling me that maybe she was being forced to apologise to Ruby? She clearly didn't mean her apology, is she still going to make Ruby's life a living nightmare?!

Oh Jean!!! Poor Jean!! I know I mentioned it in the last post, but I'm going to mention it again, I cannot applaud Gillian Wright enough for her performance as Jean! Jean clearly isn't coping with having her daughter back inside again while she's suffering a terminal illness, all she wants really is to be back with her daughter. As everyone gathers and sees the commotion, Sharon comes to realise that the only reason Jean is acting this way and holding herself up in the vehicle is because she wants to be with her daughter.

In an attempt to get Jean out of the van, Sharon pleads to the police to let her talk to her softly. As she approaches the fragile woman in the vehicle, she explains that even though she understands how Jean is feeling, the actions she's currently doing won't help her in any way. Even though Jean wants to be arrested in an attempt to be with her daughter, Sharon informs her that if she was to get arrested and put in prison, there is no guaranteed chance that she'd end up in the same prison as Stacey, in hindsight the only thing she'd get out of it is probably a criminal record and a hefty fine.

Realising her mistake and that possibly her actions may not get her close to her daughter, Jean agrees to switch off the engine and leave the vehicle. Now the next scene between Sharon and Jean I found funny but really touching also, I don't know why but I've loved the friendship that they've begun to build with these two characters. Two women I never thought would have each other's backs, but it seems that they are both struggling with things in their personal life, and I just LOVED how they both fell about laughing about the outcome of things, Sharon realising she's a single Mother with no money and how Jean has almost corrupted her new gym business. I found the scene really heart-warming as both the women agreed that sometimes shouting out to life itself is sometimes the only thing they have left?

I just loved it, it was as if they have a mutual understanding of each other and they found some common ground. Jean opened up to Sharon and Sharon opened up to Jean, even informing her about discovering a long lost brother that she's still unsure of whether to contact or not. But as Jean claims that having family around you is one of the most important things, Sharon seems to see it as another man in her life who she doesn't really need and decides to bin the phone number.

However, later as Sharon unfortunately misses her date with Kheerat and ends up drinking alone, Jean excitedly approaches her new found friend, even though she appears excited she also seems a little nervous and jittery. Admitting she might've overstepped the mark, she repeats the fact that Sharon needs her family around her and considering she hasn't got that many members of her family left ..... ?! Sharon questions what Jean has done and it's only when they get out onto the Square they see a car pulling up and stepping out of it, appears Zack! Jean only contacted her brother! But the interesting thing that gets me, Zack greets Sharon by calling her "Sis!" - last time he saw her, he had no idea who she was, just another person who attended his Dad's funeral, does this mean that Jean informed about Sharon's true identity?!

Either way, I'm super excited to see what happens next, I'll be sure to follow up this post with another one tomorrow. I once again apologise for this being super late, I'm going to try my very best to catch up, regardless at being back to the day job! Thank you all for reading! I hope you enjoy the rest of your evening. Please feel free to leave me any messages or comments about EastEnders and I'll happily reply! Love you all xXx

#eastenders #isaac baptiste #sheree trueman #patrick trueman #lolapearce #bernadettetaylor #baileybaker #mitchbaker #karentaylor #rubyfowler #martinfowler #lilyslater #jeanslater #staceyslater #sharonwatts #zackhudson

1 note · View note

warmau · 5 years

Text

{Regular Inspired!AU x NCT} Doyoung

tw: weapons mention, violence mention, n*fw elements, be warned. everything written here is a work of FICTION, it does not in anyway reflect reality, nor do i condone any of the extreme behavior. ♢ introduction ♢ pick mark instead | pick haechan instead | pick yuta instead | pick johnny instead

“i know i have asked a lot of you, and that you picked me to protect you and all ive done is use you to help my own means - but this will be the last time.”

“i choose doyoung”

you say

only to regret it a moment later because maybe you shouldn’t have called him doyoung so easily,,,,,maybe you should have went with mr.kim,,,,,,,

he is the head of a major department for this company

i should be more formal from now on! i mean he looks like he probably hates being spoken to casually

but doyoung doesn’t correct you

instead he slips the notepad he’d used to write down something into the pocket of his lapel

he steps closer to you

and for some reason it seems like the room has gone ice cold

not because you think doyoung is particularly,,,,,,,mean,,,,,but his eyes are so dark they could look black in the weak office lights

he outstretches a hand to help you off the table

and the rest of the members watch intently as you take it, skin warm and shaking against doyoung’s palm

“ill take care of them well”

doyoung says, gaze settling on jaehyun as he continues to hold your hand

you’re too embarrassed to scan the rest of the room

instead you stare down at your shoes

and hear jaehyun confirm

“doyoung might not look like it, but he’s pretty agile and smart. im sure you won’t get hurt~”

taeil comments as he floats past you

the room emptying out

until it’s just you, doyoung and jungwoo

who takes his phone out before letting out a sigh

“i would stay with you as well, but i have to deal with something.”

he says to doyoung who gives a short nod

“go. send a report if you need me.”

jungwoo runs a hand through his hair, throws one glance your way and then turns on his heel

“jungwoo and i work closely together. he keeps me in the loop of the,,,,”

doyoung pauses

“of the extra affairs of jung enterprises.”

you don’t even notice it until you try to answer him, but your lips are quivering

you touch them and doyoung watches

“you’re probably trembling because of everything that’s happened so far. don’t be fearful, it’s a natural response to shock.”

you just open your mouth - but nothing really can come out

what do i say to that? is he trying to comfort me - his tone sounds automatic, even robotic ,,,,, being a genius must make him very careful with his words,,,,

doyoung motions with his hand for you to follow him outside

you go along, thinking that you’ll be driven to some secret hotel or be kept in some warehouse owned by the jungs

but you’re taken to your home and when you get out of the car

doyoung steps out with you

“i,,,,i think ill be ok on my own-”

you start, but doyoung scans the quiet block of your neighborhood, without a second to spare he takes his notepad back out and scribbles something down

muttering to himself the whole time

“three, no four possible entry points - there are mostly residential buildings here with ample spots for stakeouts and ambushes. i classify it as,,,,,most likely dangerous.”

you blink, it’s hard enough to follow along with his train of thought but he speaks so fast that it makes your head spin

“it - it’s not that dangerous really so -”

he clicks his pen closed and ignores you

“best that i stay with you tonight.”

before you can think of a response, let alone register it in your head

doyoung,,,,the kim doyoung,,,,,wants to spend the night in my apartment?!?!?!

doyoung is already heading toward the lobby

you rush to catch up and take the edge of his sleeve in your hand

“um - do-doyoung! i mean mr. kim! i just ,,,, i don’t know ,,, ,what ,,, what the neighbors would think about me having you over for the night and i don’t -”

he stares at you without much of an expression as you try to form a coherent sentence

before cutting into your gibberish

“you’re of an age where you could be bringing me home as your partner. there isn’t anything suspicious about that.”

WHAT?

your mind rattles at the sudden string of words that come out of his mouth

partner???? your partner???? bring home?????

while you’re back in a stage of shock, doyoung proceeds forward

within a matter of seconds he figures out what floor you’re on and the passcode to your door

which you don’t even want to ask how he does, but he tells you the answer anyway

“it’s either your birthday or whichever keypads have the slightest indentations on them.”

he walks the perimeter of your home silently, hands clasped behind your back, dark eyes outlining the walls - the windows - the doors

you’re still silently stunned when he’s done, jotting down whatever it is he’s gathered from his self-tour of your home

before tilting his head toward the hall

“it’s been a long day, you should sleep.”

finally you break out of it - ok ok kim doyoung is standing in my apartment what should i do,,,,,,should i offer him water? should i tell him to make himself comfortable? should i ask more about what the hell kind of situation im in?

doyoung doesn’t waste time waiting for you to answer, he instead shrugs off his blazer

folding it neatly and placing it on your sofa

“if you don’t mind, ill be borrowing your couch for the night.”

you only manage a meek nod and he puts his hands up to undo his tie

“and again, if you don’t mind, im going to get undressed. i don’t much care if you watch, but seeing as though i don’t think you’re that kind of person-”

you throw your own hands over your eyes and mutter that you get it, you get it - you’re going to sleep now

doyoung watches you scurry embarrassingly away and when he hears your door shut

he pulls the notepad out again

in the morning, you nearly forget about doyoung

only to catch a heart attack when you come out after your shower in just your towel

and doyoung is standing at the door, fully dressed, hair slicked back and his eyes completely void of any surprise when he looks at you

“oh, you’re up.”

you scream,,,,,,,,,,,,,,which you apologize for later profusely as you and doyoung wait for a car to pick you up and take you both to work

he puts a hand out as if to say that’s enough and you shut up, berating yourself quietly about how much of an idiot you must look like to him now

but also,,,,,you think it’s a little odd about how calm he is about everything - from spending the night with a stranger, to nearly seeing that strange half naked

i mean it’s not like im such a sight to see,,,,,but still - he didn’t even avert his eyes,,,,

the car pulls up and you’re surprised to see jungwoo is driving

he looks tired - there are bags under his eyes, but otherwise he’s still as intimidatingly handsome as ever

doyoung gets into the passenger seat beside him and the partition is rolled up so all you can hear is their muttering voices

you sigh, resting your head on the window as the streets of seoul roll by, the looming shadow of jung enterprises getting closer and closer

out of curiosity you begin to wonder how doyoung ended up working here,,,,

trading his natural intellect for a life of underground crime

he’d got world famous for being appointed his head position of marketing, but he had been in the news even before that

called a boy genius for graduating college at the same time most other people were just becoming high school freshman

he’d become the south korean champion at chess when he was thirteen

you remembered seeing his face on tv, your parents gushing over how it’d be like to have a child so gifted and so talented

looks like they’d just sell their brain for money

you think, but then reprimand yourself - you’re sure doyoung and everyone else working here had their reasons

when you get to the office, mark and sicheng both ask you sympathetically if you’re ok

johnny chastises doyoung the second he sees him

“kim doyoung, i never took you to be such a dog! sleeping with them on the first night! looks like you’re giving nakamoto a run for his money!”

doyoung doesn’t entertain the comment, but you’re sure the rest of the office sees you nearly turn red

jungwoo throws a sharp look the lawyers way and johnny seems to know better than to provoke

so he turns away and you walk with your head down behind doyoung

“i have a lot to do today and the marketing team has deadlines, be useful and assist anyone in the department who needs it.”

doyoung instructs and you’re happy that he’s given you some kind of assignment

you were worried you’d be forced to sit in a corner with jungwoo’s hawk like stare fixated on you for hours

so you readily agree and leave his office to go ask if anyone needs a hand

the marketing team is made of regular people, unaware of any other business going on other than legitimate projects

you help out making spreadsheets and inputting corrections into documents - everyone treats you like the job you applied for - an intern

and even though it’s not the kindest treatment all the time, you’re content because you don’t get your hands on anything illegal

and plus, the experience is what you wanted for your resume in the first place

not like im writing - hostage of jung enterprises when this is all over in my past employment section

every now and then you think you can sense someone watching you, but you write it off as jungwoo or jaehyun

you don’t guess that it’s doyoung - who keeps detailed notes to himself

jungwoo does notice it, he notices the file doyoung makes in the afternoon and slips between the other paperwork on his desk

the file with your name and the numbers 000127 on it

you spend the next couple of weeks doing just that - intern work

and it’d all feel so normal

if it wasn’t for doyoung staying over at your place every single night

and every time you want to argue that it’s fine, you promise you won’t run away or do anything to jeopardize the jung’s secret

and that doyoung shouldn’t stress himself out living here when he could be in, what you assume is, his million dollar loft somewhere

but doyoung just goes, “shall we set ourselves up together in a hotel somewhere?”

and that thought just seems somehow worse than letting a world renowned genius crash on your sofa

it’s just,,,,,,he seems so out of place ,,,,,,,, with his expensive clothing and his piles of paperwork - which he does keep tidy

and the way he,,,,,,, works in complete silence unless he’s on the phone with jungwoo

he just seems so meticulous and neat,,,,,and you’re a young person who sometimes throws your sweater on the floor and who leaves books on the kitchen table

you notice that these things irk him

doyoung quietly moves your book back to it’s shelf and folds your sweater into the closet

your living room seems more and more spotless as days go by

and you’re not sure,,,,,,,,,why - but you think doyoung needs to have things in order, he needs things to make sense to him

you get home from work with him one evening and you suggest that he watch a movie with you

at first you just wanted to see his reaction, you were sure he had other things to do

but he’d agreed

and when you put it on - you sat uncomfortably far apart and still throughout the whole thing

you’d, like any normal person, had made responses to whatever happened in the movie

when it was a sad scene, you’d sigh - when it was a humorous scene, you’d laugh

doyoung did neither

in fact he showed no reaction at all, aside from opening up that notepad and writing something down

he must always be thinking about work, writing whatever comes to mind even when he should be relaxing

you’d turned off the movie when it ended and awkwardly thanked doyoung for watching it with you

he said he’d “enjoyed it” but you weren’t all that sure

you start picking up on the fact that doyoung doesn’t really have any sort of reaction to anything

he fluctuates only between two expression; stone serious or almost murderous when someone messes something up in his department

even jungwoo shows more emotion than him

you’re copying papers for the marketing team one day when mark comes into the room, he shuts the door

and you open your mouth but he motions for you to be quiet

“huh, what? no, that can’t be right they promised they’d take care of the authorities in that section. what? you’re telling me that our guy got picked up?”

mark makes a pained expression followed by an exasperated sigh

“we have no choice, we’ll have to send someone in. if they took him hostage ,,,,,,,,, doyoung is going to make sure we get him back.”

the look of pain turns almost malicious as mark straightens up

“yes, yes. he’ll be there? ok. ill inform jaehyun and doyoung, see what mr. jung wants us to do.”

you feel uncomfortable for eavesdropping, but the copying room is small - even if you didn’t want to hear, you didn’t much have a choice

mark stuffs his phone back into his pocket, hand on his forehead as if he’s lost in thought

he then looks up at you and puts his hand out

“you’re going to have to come with me.”

you find yourself following mark downstairs

past the offices and past the first floor receptionist, you’re going into what you can only assume is the basement of the building

it’s dark at first, and there’s a door with a touch sensored lock on it

mark presses his palm to it and tries to say that everything is ok to lighten up the terrified look on your face

it doesn’t work

especially when the door opens and you step behind him into a room illuminated by only a red light

the walls decorated in photos of shady looking people, weapons of all sizes lined up in cages, and two sectioned off tables

at one end is jaehyun, feet up on the table - stacks of money spread out in front of him

“jaehyun, we have a problem”

mark starts and jaehyun shifts, getting up he looks at you as if you’ve done something bad

but mark shakes his head, reading his train thought

“no,,,,it’s ,,,,,, it’s got to do with jungwoo.”

doyoung is brought down and briefed on the situation

apparently a deal that was made with some underground thai faction went sour

they were supposed to help jungwoo get into thailand with no problems, of course smuggling across a couple of very illegal and very sought after valuables

but instead of helping, they’d taken him hostage and were demanding the jungs pay a hefty price,,,,,,,,or else

you avert your eyes when mark explains that this can be deadly

but you do curiously take a peek at doyoung

but again

nothing

aren’t they close? not even the prospect of jungwoo being in danger can make him show any sort of reaction?

instead, doyoung adjusts his blazer and crosses his arms over his chest

“so who is going to be sent to retrieve him?”

jaehyun paces back and forth, “jungwoo is too valuable of an asset to lose. my dad will agree with this. i think we should send sicheng and-”

“they took him in thailand right?”

doyoung finally speaks and all eyes in the room turn to him

“send me. ive never done a job like this and the people in thailand won’t know who i am.”

mark shakes his head, “that’s too risky, you were pretty famous before you joined -”

“i was famous in south korea, maybe japan and even america. but no one in thailand cares about me. plus, i can wear a simple disguise.”

jaehyun seems to be considering this, but his lips pull into a thin line

“and what about -”

he jerks his head in your direction and you stiffen

“they’ll come with me. we’ll go undercover to thailand like a couple of an engagement trip. no one will suspect us.”

wait what?

you turn your attention back to doyoung who doesn’t seem to even be thinking about what he’s just implied.

you doing an undercover mission with him? the deal was you’d just be another intern as long as you kept your mouth shut - not working directly for the jung family?

but you can’t bring yourself to argue, you just hope jaehyun can read the look on your face or at least mark

but both of them once again look like they’re actual considering this.

you have to figure out a way to protest this, to get some sense knocked into everyone, to remind them that you’re just a-

“they’re a regular person, it’ll make our undercover operation impossible to unearth.”

if you could, you’d slide down the seat you’re sitting in and refuse to come out until they all agreed that sending you to thailand with doyoung to save jungwoo from a bunch of dangerous goons isn’t the best idea

but jaehyun signs off on it

he motions with his hand for you and doyoung to go off and get ready, while instructing mark to set up plane and hotel arrangements

before you know it, you’re following doyoung to the garage and getting to a car with him

“w-what is going on?”

you finally manage to ask as doyoung puts one hand on the steering wheel and stares straightforward without even tilting his head to acknowledge you

“im sorry to get you tightly wound up in this, but you chose me to protect you. i promise to do just that, but for now - you’ll have to deal with helping me out on my job.”

“i thought your job was head of marketing - i thought you were just updated on these things, not that you’d take part in them!”

your voice shakes as you raise it - but doyoung doesn’t even blink

“that is true, most of the time i simply help out with strategy and figures. but they have jungwoo and im convinced if we send any of the other men, they’ll be found out. this is the safest way for us to get him back.”

you open your mouth, but you catch something flash across doyoung’s face as he speaks about jungwoo

it’s a look of,,,,,,,,,,of failure?

“now, im going to drive you home. get your things ready in an hour.”

he starts the car and you decide you have to drop the subject, there’s no way you’re going to get out of this

great, looks like im now not an intern but an accomplice in something that’s probably not going to look good on my record if we get caught!

doyoung waits in your living room as you try to pack, muttering to yourself that thailand is going to be super hot and you don’t even remember where you packed away your summer clothes

for the first time since he’s been staying here, you see doyoung come into your bedroom

looking around with a hint of annoyance in the twitch of his lip

“what is taking so long?”

“it’s just all of my winter clothes are out, i think my summer stuff is in storage so-”

doyoung turns on his heel before you can finish your sentence

“nevermind that, follow me.”

you do as your told, trying to tell doyoung that you haven’t managed to pack anything yet

but he ignores you, picks your keys up for you and ushers you out the door

he drives downtown, unphased by the questioning look on your face, before pulling up to the mall

he parks, all the while saying absolutely nothing, and makes his way toward the doors

you try to ask where you’re going, but doyoung doesn’t waste his breath

just goes into whatever store he sees fit, pulls you in front of him and toward one of the sales associates

who tries to say her rehearsed greeting but doyoung cuts right in

“we’re going on a trip. it’s a warm place. please choose some clothing for them.”

he hands you off to the associate who looks just as confused and startled as you do

before he takes a seat and pulls out that little black notepad

you don’t even get as much as a squeak in before you’re being corralled into a fitting room with piles on piles of clothing

all of which you don’t think you’d ever be able to afford

but when you pick out a couple of things, doyoung instructs you to just give them to the cashier

before slapping down a gold card and then motioning to one of the duffel bags on display

“that too, and if you’d be kind enough just put them inside that bag.”

the cashier starts off by telling him the price, but doyoung shakes a hand

“it doesn’t matter, just please be quick.”

you stare at the receipt for what must seem like hours

rereading the number in your head and gawking at it

as doyoung drives back to the jung offices and meets mark back in the basement

mark slides over to fake passports, a pair of plane tickets, and a bottle of what looks like bleach

you start thinking about one hundred different reasons as to why you’d need bleach

when doyoung picks it up

“ill go do it before the trip.”

mark nods and you look between them

when doyoung is gone, you look to mark and ask him what the bleach is for

to which you only get a small laugh in reply

“you’ll see.”

it takes a while for doyoung to return, mark stays with you and you chat a bit

when you decide that this might be your chance to ask what you’ve been thinking for a while now

“do,,,do you know why doyoung joined the jungs?”

mark gives you a bit of a half-nod

“you’re wondering why a natural born genius would need to work for what essentially are gangster, right?”

“yeah,,,,i just i remember seeing him all over tv. a chess champion, a mathematician, it just seemed like he was going to use his intelligence for good ,,,,,”

you play with the fake passport, opening it and looking at the photo of you

the fake name and fake address

“well,,,,we all have our reasons for working for mr. jung. i can’t personally talk about doyoungs,,,,,,but sometimes being a kid genius isn’t the best way to grow up.”

mark shrugs and you hear the door open

doyoung is back, but you nearly fall from your seat when you see what he looks like

his thick, black hair always neat and proper has been dyed a solid bleach blonde

the bangs hang in his eyes, unkempt and almost intentionally messy

the striking color brings out the narrow, handsome features of his face and the darkness of his eyes

he was handsome before - you admit that, but now he looks like a character from a manhwa

you can barely pick your jaw up after it dropped, but once again - true to doyoungs style - he acts like this is nothing

he grabs the passport, bids mark a farewell after letting him now he’ll be in touch when you land

and he snaps his fingers, to let you know it’s time to go

im not a dog, don’t treat me like one! you think, still too nervous to really object to anything doyoung says or does out loud

but still you step in line behind him

at the airport is when your real anxieties sink in

these are fake passports, will your face give away the fact that you’re hiding something, how are you and doyoung supposed to act like a couple if he’s never even once shown any kind of emotion related to affection?

the questions make you dizzy and as you get closer to the ticketor you think you might just pass out

she greets you when you two approach, doyoung handing her the passports casually and placing your duffel bag on the scale beside her

“ah, a thailand trip - so nice to get out of this cold weather~”

she says and you can’t think of an answer, but you should because doyoung hasn’t been the best at making normal conversation -

but then doyoung’s poker face breaks and he smiles at her

actually,,,,,,,,,,,,,smiles

“yes, me and my fiancee can’t wait to get there!”

fiancee?

she sheepishly smiles back, tells you two to enjoy the weather, and hands back the passport

no qualms, no problems, no questions

and doyoung’s own acting,,,,,,,leaves you more stunned than anyone else

the flight there is short and you get nestled into the hotel mark booked without any slip-ups

everything is going smoothly

the only thing out of whack is doyoung,,,,,,,,,,who has not stopped smiling at flight attendants and hotel concierge

and who’d even made a dad joke with another couple on the plane over

who is this person? did the bleach rearrange his brain?

you think, before scolding yourself - no he’s just pretending to be normal, this is part of the undercover ploy

once alone in the room, doyoung opens the duffel bag and dumps your clothing onto the bed - beneath it are a couple of tech devices and doyoung gets to work on setting them up

taking his phone out to call jaehyun and let him know that you two have arrived safely

you start folding the clothes, remembering that doyoung has a bit of a quirk with messes

and even though you don’t want to listen to what they say, once again, you can’t really help it

“we’re here. everything is set up. do you know where they’ll be?”

jaehyun’s voice comes over the phone

“according to intel the same group that has jungwoo operates out of the hotel’s casino. you should be able to get a view on them when you go there tonight. ill send over photos of who to look out for.”

you places the clothes neatly into one of the empty drawers and notice how doyoung keeps tapping his finger against his knee

“i think we’ll keep our distance for now, but it’ll be good for me to know their faces. has their been any news on jungwoo?”

it’s silent for a moment and the whole room feels still

“,,,,,,,they won’t release any information on him so we think he might be in serious trouble.”

you bite back your lip, you don’t know much about jungwoo personally but it still hurts to think of what could be happening to him right now

doyoung doesn’t ask anything else, he just tells jaehyun that he’ll keep him posted and hangs up

you finish with unpacking and sit on the bed - doyoung gets up and checks the time

“the casino opens for business at around nine, we should get ready and have dinner before then.”

the hotel you’re staying at is grand, it’s more like a resort than anything else and as you and doyoung walk through it

you’re distracted trying to get a glimpse of everything

doyoung doesn’t really take particular care in any of that, he fiddles with his cuff link and then stops you before going into the casino

he offers his arm and you stare at it

“we have to give off the appearance that we are engaged, please hold onto me.”

you tremble a bit when you do as your told, but doyoung is calm and unaffected

the casino is bustling, even though it’s just opened and doyoung scans the room for any familiar faces

he seemingly spots a group of men clustered around the in-house bar and smoothly leads you over too

he doesn’t get too close - maybe five or six seats away and he orders a drink

turning to you, you notice that some of his hair has gone out of place so you reach up to fix it

doyoung puts a hand casually on your waist

and you try hard not to peek over his shoulder to see if the group of men are watching you

“don’t look that way, it’ll make us seem suspicious.”

you nod and thank the bartender when he slides a glass over to you

doyoung doesn’t touch it, instead he nudges it toward you, but you’re so nervous you think alcohol will only make it worse

“takes small sips and talk to me.”

doyoung instructs and you hold the glass as you try to think of something to say

“um,,,,did it hurt?”

“what?”

you motion to his hair and he shakes his head

“no.”

“do you like how it looks?”

“i don’t particularly care.”

yeah, great conversation.

you look around and watch all of the other people or a bit, bringing the glass to your lips and only sipping the smallest amount

everyone else looks so relaxed

they’re here on fun trips with family or friends, unaware of anything bad in their lives

you think of jungwoo for a split second - when you feel doyoung grab a hold of your wrist

“one of them is coming over, be natural.”

you blink, putting the drink down before a man finds his way over to you and doyoung

“excuse me, but i couldn’t help but overhear - are you two speaking in korean?”

doyoung plasters that smile on his face, oddly charming in its own way

“why yes, we’re here for vacation. an engagement gift from my parents.”

the man gives a slightly flustered look

“so young you two and already engaged?”

doyoung takes your hand and brings it up to his lips, kissing the skin gently

you smile too, but you can feel your pulse quicken

“we may be young, but i know this person is the love of my life.”

doyoung looks over at you, dark cold brown eyes suddenly full of warmth and adoration

“i don’t want anyone else getting their hands on them.”

the man gives a jolly laugh, you note that he’s stocky - wearing multiple golden rings on one hand and his friends from his group watch your interactions like a hawk

“well i can’t just say my goodbyes without giving my congratulations - “

he waves down the bartender and tells him that whatever you and doyoung put on the tab tonight will be on him

he gives doyoung a hard pat on the shoulder

“enjoy your youth, and happy marriage to the both of you!”

he exclaims, throwing a wink your way and picking your hand up to shake before returning to his circle

you swallow a small lump in your throat and doyoung turns to you

“how kind of him!”

but his eyes have gone dark again

“let’s go play a couple of games of cards in case they decide to tail us.”

he adds in a lower voice, leading you to a table where a game of blackjack is about to commence

you and doyoung sort of just mingle around, pretending to chat like a regular couple, partaking in games here and there

before doyoung signals that it’s time to go

when you get back to the hotel room, doyoung rushes to lock the door and shut the windows

he switches on the bathroom light and immediately contacts jaehyun

“how was it?”

“slightly off-putting, one of the men spoke to us at the casino. do you think that’s cause for alarm?”

jaehyun says something and you can’t hear it because doyoung shuts the door

you sit back down on the bed and sigh - everything is so weird, everything feels so on edge

you’re being tugged between lying and pretending to being completely ignored by doyoung and it just

it messes with you, even though you really wish it wouldn’t

maybe half an hour later doyoung opens the door and starts quietly moving around the room, undoing his tie and switching on the desk lamp

pulling out that small black book

you look down at your hands, thinking about the kiss doyoung placed on them - thinking about doyoungs hand in yours

and then you narrow your eyes

“do,,,doyoung -”

you start and you hear his pen stop moving

“if we’re supposed to be,,,,engaged,,,,,,,,,why don’t we have rings on?”

doyoung stands up so fast you think it shakes the room -

“shit”

he curses and your eyes widen - the first change in tone you’ve heard from him in a while

“did the man at the casino look at your hand?”

“y-yes he shook it when he was leaving.”

doyoung puts a hand on his forehead

“that’s not good. our cover might already be blown, ill have to arrange to fix that.”

and with that he’s putting his tie back on, and in a matter of minutes he’s gone

and you’re alone ,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,, you lay back against the bed

tired and a little bit frightened, since this whole mess started you’d never been left alone, doyoung was always somewhere near

this was the first time he’d gone off without you

then again, he was probably sure you wouldn’t run off. you where in another country, had no money, and where at his whim.

you curl up into a small ball, the fogginess of the hard day taking over your mind

why did this happen to me? i just wanted to live a regular life,,,,,,,,,,

you wake up groggy, wincing at the sudden sunlight that hits your face

looks like you’d fallen asleep and doyoung had returned, opening the windows in the meantime

and when you roll over you don’t see him anywhere

only a box sitting on the table side drawer with a note beneath it

‘wear it immediately’

it says and you open the box, stopping mid yawn to see a beautiful silver band

you stare at it,,,,,,,,,,,touching it and then recoiling your hand

he must have got these when he left last night, but where is he now?

you put the box down carefully and roam around the spacious room - but no sign of doyoung is to be seen

you look at the desk where he’d last been and the notebook is there

the one he always jots notes down as well as a file folder

it’s simple, but it has a label on it and you’re surprised to read your own name across it beside the number 000127

doyoung isn’t around so you carefully open it, wondering if there’s something inside about this secret undercover operation

but it’s not

it’s just

pages and pages of notes

you gasp softly, because the notes are all about you

from what foods doyoung has noticed you like, to your habits in the office

what is this? some kind of log about me?

you don’t understand, is jaehyun asking doyoung to keep such close tabs on me? i really didn’t think it was that serious?

you put the file down and your eyes hover over the small notebook

“don’t tell me -”

you reach out, but can’t bring yourself to touch it

and just in the nick of time you hear the sound of the soft beep of the hotel room unlocking

and you only manage to hurry back to the bed with a second

doyoung comes in,,,,,,,,,,,,,dressed in beige slacks and a colorful short-sleeve shirt

he’s got sandals on and sunglasses perched on the top of his head

he looks like the epitome of resort chic

and the exact opposite of prim, proper, always business ready doyoung back at the jung offices

the first thing he does is look at the box beside you and your hand

“why isn’t your ring on?”

you shakily open it and slip on the accessory quickly

doyoung just gives an affirmative nod and doubles around the bed to the windows

“i think for the next couple of days we’re going to be tailed,,,,,,,,,,so we need to act as normal as we can.”

“is there any news about jungwoo?”

doyoung keeps looking out the window, hands in his pockets, before he turns around

“they sent photos to jaehyun. he’s alive, but they’re getting impatient.”

he opens one of the drawers and pulls out your clothes - he drops them on the bed and motions to the shower

“when you’re finished, we’ll have breakfast.”

the following three days are full of what seems like normal resort like activities

you and doyoung have meals at the restaurants on the hotels premise

sunbathe by the pool and spend time near the ocean

doyoung even insists on taking you to the on-sight souvenir shop and throws out the fake names of your friends back home to buy little trinkets for

all the while initiating casual skinship and dropping pet names that nearly make you fluster every time

he makes sure that you two come off as any other couple staying at the resort - but you can tell he’s also constantly aware of who is around you

one evening he decides to go back to the casino, in hopes of making one last grand gesture of you and his “normal couples vacation” right in front of the suspected faction members

the same group of men is there as they’d been on the first day and doyoung gives a small greeting to the man who spoke to you back then

he comes over and asks how your vacation is going

it all seems wonderful until he asks

“and so, you speak so highly of your partner - what is it that made you fall in love with them?”

he asks doyoung, and you tense

how is he going to answer this, we barely even know one and other?

but doyoung doesn’t falter, not even a bit

he pulls you close by the waist

“why, where do i even start? i met them at this coffee shop - they’re so picky they spent ten minutes picking out a dessert. cutely talking to themselves. i was mesmerized with them, and the more we went on dates the more i learned about how deeply empathetic and hardworking they are. what could i want more, than someone who understands my emotions. who works with me. who loves everything about me and who i trust with my life.”

doyoung looks deeply into your eyes as he recites a bunch of your tiny quirks, all the little details about you

and if you hadn’t known better, you would believe that he was looking at someone he truly felt that strongly for

“i adore them, i realized i would die for them if i had to so - i wanted to make the promise of my life.”

doyoung picks your hand up, flashes the ring and then leans in - kisses you

really, really kisses you

and looks back at the man

who for a second twitches between a frown and a smile, before settling on a grin and nodding

he looks totally convinced!

you think and he says something along the lines of how beautiful it is to see young people in love

with that he turns back and you feel as if the wind has been knocked straight out of you

who knew doyoung even had a grasp on such a range of emotions? is this the same person who watched a movie with you absolutely silently - the same person who didn’t react when being told his closest associate was being held hostage?!?!?!

after another twenty minutes of hanging around, doyoung puts a hand on the small of your back and leads you out

as you two are hurrying back to the room he whispers against your ear

“they’re going to keep watching us, but i think they’re less suspicious now. there’s only one last thing we have to do and im,,,,,”

he pauses

“what, what is it?”

“it might be uncomfortable and i feel like an animal asking you to bear with it, but we have to put on this one last show,,,”

he casts his eyes downward and it takes a moment for you to register what he means

you put your fingers up to your mouth and can’t stand the increase of your heartbeat and the heat that creeps up your neck

“you mean,,,”

“yes - just a little bit, so they’ll believe we’re really together.”

you take in a deep breath, as you two get closer to your suite doyoung stops and ducks you two into a corner between two of the hotel buildings

you feel your back up against the wall and you look up to see doyoung has covered you almost completely with his frame

“i know i have asked a lot of you, and that you picked me to protect you and all ive done is use you to help my own means - but this will be the last time -”

you don’t let him finish, you know that this is for show and that in the long run it will help doyoung get to jungwoo

so you put your hands around his neck and tug him in close

you keep thinking of what he said back in the casino

“i adore them, i realized i would die for them”

those are such romantic, heartfelt words and you would be beyond happy to hear them from someone

you press your lips to doyoungs, letting yourself fall into this fantasy

that you’re not kissing someone who is just pretending to love you, that you’re kissing someone who does

and you can’t tell what doyoung is feeling or thinking

but he’s absolutely on the verge of falling apart

he holds you, close and hungry, because the truth is doyoung has never had the chance to feel so alive

he was born a genius, grew up being paraded around for his talents and hailed by adults for his intellectual abilities

everyone who ever showed interest in him

showed interest in his brain, how he thinks, how fast he can solve a problem

no one had ever allowed him to express anything above rational, accurate answers

he’d never had the door opened to relationships with others, from freindships to romance

so this overwhelming feeling of your body pressed against his - it drives him crazy

and he can tell you’re still shaking, still worried about everything he’s had to put you through

but you’re being strong and brave by helping him out, even when you have nothing to gain

so he apologizes to you in his mind, a thousand times over

as his hands take hold of your hips and he brings you flush up against him

small hums against your mouth, quick parted breathes as he kisses you with a passion that’s been locked away for most of his life

neither of you can control your bodies natural reaction, the low groan of his when you trail your lips down his neck

his hand coming down to grasp your thigh, hitch it around his waist as you moan into another kiss

his name comes out of your mouth and doyoung thinks this is what its like to see stars

by this point, it should be enough to convince anyone that what’s going on between you two is real

and that’s partially because in the moment it is - it really is

and when doyoung finally breaks away from you, his mind lashing out on him

you’re using them! how could you do that?!

you stare at him because for the first time he’s the one that is shaking, eyes big like a doe

you feel as if you should ask him if he’s ok, but there’s not much to say after what just happened

just that you and doyoung need to get back to your room and hope that this makes everything easier in the morning

which it does, from the operations stand point of view

jaehyun calls doyoung with information about where he could possibly find jungwoo

and when doyoung scans the perimeters outside your room there’s no suspicious people

no feeling of being watched

you managed to convince them that you and doyoung are nothing but two young people in love

but on the other hand,,,,,,,,,,all you’ve done is make everything more confusing between you both

doyoung is fixing his watch, tinkering with some sort of recording device that he’s built into it

when you ask

“what you said yesterday, about all the reasons you fell in love with me,,,,,,,,,were they all things you got from my file?”

he turns to you, putting down the watch

“how do you know about the file?”

“you left it on the desk and i happened,,,,,,,to read it.”

instead of being angry, or telling you with some sort of deadpan arrogance that you shouldn’t touch his stuff

doyoung just tells you that yes, he did just list off habits he’d recorded in the file and then asks why you seem to want to know

“why,,,,,why did you write all those observations down about me.”

you pull your knees up to your chin as you sit on the bed

you don’t look him in the eyes, but you don’t feel like you’re the one in the vulnerable position here

“because you’re the first person ive been close to who is seemingly,,,,,,,,regular.”

“but,,,,,you work with regular people. the people who work in marketing with you aren’t involved with the jungs.”

“that’s true, but they are not ,,,,,,,,, they are not interesting. you are a regular person, who has an emotional and physical stake in your relationship with me- well,,,,,,,with everyone who works for mr. jung.”

patiently you wait for some other explanation

there has to be more than just the fact that you’re a normal person - normal enough to be studied like some kind of test subject

but doyoung says nothing more on the matter

and you can’t pinpoint what about that makes you feel so ill

“do you think ,,,,,, what you said about me ,,,, are those things someone could actually fall in love with?”

the questions from you are all real, you just want to know - how someone like doyoung could take what he wrote down about you and put it so elegantly

make you and everyone in the room believe that he could feel these things he’d never shown any hint of having

but to him, the questions are like poisoned darts sinking deeper and deeper into a wall he’s put up since he was a child

and suddenly he’s on the bed too, coming closer to you, pulling you up toward him

“i don’t think you understand how very lucky you are.”

“doyoung what-”

“the fact that you have all of these things about you,,,,,all of these unique quirks different to all normal people, that you can feel so strongly, react so vibrantly - how i wish i could understand all of that.”

you were scared at first, but now you just feel pity - what mark had said about doyoung growing up as a child genius, was that the reason he was so ,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,, closed off?

“im sorry that you weren’t allowed to be normal.”

you start and doyoung’s eyes go big again

“i don’t know what it’s like to grow up with all that responsibility on your shoulders - to have the world look at you as something other than a child with hopes and dreams. but i just,,,,,,,i just think that there’s more to you.”

he lets you go and sinks a little bit

his shoulders sag and it’s as if he’s gone from the strong, stoic man he’s been around you this whole time

to nothing more than wilted flower

“sometimes i hate that i was born with this gift, that i look at things logically, that i can never act on my emotions like all other humans do.”

“but you do.”

he looks up, his hair is in his face and he looks a little unkept

“i know we were just pretending in front of all of those people - but even if it was fake, for you to take notice of me like that and to say things that are so full of raw emotion - you have it in you doyoung,,,,,,,,,you can really love someone-”

your voice is cut off by the sound of the phone ringing

doyoung picks it up and he reverts back to his usual self

eyes dark and serious, shoulder straight

when the call is over he waits a moment before telling you

“they now where jungwoo is.”

you tell doyoung that you must go with him, you’ve gone along with him for this whole trip, he can’t just leave you behind now

doyoung explains that this is the dangerous part - the part where someone can get killed

but you shake your head, “i didn’t like it when you left me alone in that hotel room the first time. im not letting you do it again.”

doyoung racks his brain for some kind of response, all the logical ones point to arguing against you

forcing you to stay behind

but somehow you end up by his side, outside of what looks like a shed near the back of the casino

at first, you can’t believe that they’d hide a hostage so close to a hotel full of bustling people

but doyoung says they’re not, they’re hiding him underneath that shed - probably even underneath the casino

you wince, thinking about jungwoo tied up and starved in some murky basement

at least the jungs were kind enough not to do that to me,,,,although am i hostage?

you shake the thought out of your head as doyoung comes close to the shed - picking apart the lock faster than you can blink

the inside looks absolutely normal

there’s equipment inside for the casino tables and stacks of poker chips, nothing out of the ordinary

but doyoung is observational and catches on to the one creaking plank beneath your feet

he pushes back his bangs, and then grips something hidden in the belt of his jeans

you see it, a silver handgun, and you pray that there won’t be any use for it

as quietly as he can manage, he pulls the plank up and reveals a secret door

it’s narrow, you can’t imagine that stocky man from the casino slipping trough, but doyoung has no trouble

and as you follow behind him, you’re greeted with a completely new room under the floorboards

the fluorescent light in it is blinding and it looks like a hospital ward more than anything else

there are a couple of cots set up and on one of them is the familiar figure of jungwoo

he’s unconscious, but you can see the small rise of his chest

you want to gasp, tears stinging at the corner of your eyes, but you don’t want to make any noise

and doyoung is cautious before approaching the body

as you and doyoung work on getting the cuffs off of jungwoo’s arms and feet, you hear a noise

you are about to warn doyoung, but it’s too late

and before you know it three people have dropped down from the open floor

and there are three guns pointed blankly at you and doyoung

you freeze, the blood in your body goes cold, and you can feel jungwoo waking up only slightly

moving gingerly against his cuffs

doyoung is standing beside his head, his fingers are still snared between the cuffs, but to your surprise they’re loose enough that you think jungwoo could slip his hands through

but you’re distracted by one of the men suddenly making a statement

“ah,,,,,aren’t you the young couple the boss talked to in the casino?”

doyoung doesn’t answer and you keep as quiet as a mouse

“what, no conversation for me? that’s fine, the boss will get here soon and you can answer to him -”

doyoung shifts a bit and shakes his head, putting on that fake smile

“oh really? i’d love to speak with him.”

you try to hide your expression of confusion, but then you see it

doyoung twists his hips just enough out of view that it covers jungwoo’s upper half

you take a risk and move from jungwoo’s legs up toward doyoung

you stand right at his side, shielding more of jungwoo from view

as you pretend to cower at his side

“honey,,,,please - tell them we don’t mean any trouble”

one of the men cocks his gun and points it at you

doyoung tenses, you feel it as his arms flex where you’re holding him

but he plays along

“it’s ok baby, the boss will get here and sort it all out.”

you barely hear it, but in a moment you sense doyoung let out a small breath

jungwoo slips his hands from the cuffs and snatches the gun from doyoung’s side

in a matter of seconds he yells for you and doyoung to duck

and when you down, opens three clean shots out onto the men

they all fall, guns clattering to the ground and you turn to help jungwoo finish undoing the cuffs on his feet

doyoung helps as well

and jungwoo is a little bit woozy on his feet - but enough for him to make it past those men with you and doyoung

and up toward the open hatch

you think they must all be dead

jungwoo’s marksmen shooting was spot on - but as you run past their still bodies

someone’s hand shoots out and you turn, just in time for him to get a hold on the gun

and point it up - at you

you close your eyes, ready for impact, ready to take this shot - but it doesn’t happen

instead, you feel doyoung’s arms wrap around you

the bullet brushes into his shoulder and lodges there

and the blood spills down his arm

you freeze, but doyoung clenches his teeth and urges you to get out after jungwoo

who pulls you and doyoung up

you only have maybe five minutes before you’re sure more goons will come running, so you three book it out of there

you must look absolutely insane to passerby’s

but the adrenline gets you all out of there and to your shock, just as you all barrell out of the hotels gates

a car pulls up, sleek and red

the window rolls down and another person pokes his head out

he grins, pearly white

“im ten. jaehyun told me to get you all.”

he tilts his head and looks at doyoung’s bleeding shoulder

“try not to get too much of that on my leather seats.”

jungwoo flings open the car door and all of you pile into the back

you immediately turn to doyoung and press your hand over his where the bullet is

“are you ok? does it hurt badly?”

doyoung’s eyes slowly begin to glaze over and he drops his head into the crook of your neck

you panic, begging this ten person to get you to a doctor

he waves off your concern, “a shoulder injury isn’t lethal!”

you want to snipe at him, but jungwoo puts a hand on your shoulder

“he’ll be ok”

but then he sort of stammers over his own words

“i just,,,i never thought he’d jump in front of a bullet to save anyone.”

ten pulls up to a condominium where doyoung is treated by a doctor and jungwoo is given his first hot meal in a week

you sit, dazed and confused by everything that’s happened, before ten joins you

“i hear you got tangled up with the jungs, how’s that going for you?”

you think he must be joking and when he chuckles you realize he is

“still, you must be one brave person to accompany the guys who work for him on such a job. are you maybe,,,,”

he leans in close to you

“in a special relationship with one of them?”

you refuse the thought the instant he comes out of ten’s mouth, but he just thinks that’s even more hilarious and continues to prod

“so which one, doyoung or jungwoo? which one is it?”

he looks down at the ring on your finger and the sly grin only grows wider

“woah, isn’t doyoung wearing the same one?”

you want to explain to him that this is a misunderstanding

but the shadow of someone towers over ten and you both look up to see that it’s doyoung

his sleeve has been cut off and his arm is bandaged, dry blood sticking to it

you get up, asking in the same breath one hundred questions till he just says

“im ok, how are you?”

ten looks between you two and excuses himself, says he should let lovers be alone

you grind your teeth, but your more important focus is doyoung

jungwoo is right, why did he jump in front of a bullet that was heading right for you?

doyoung seems to know that’s what you’re thinking

so he sits you down and tries to put together a coherent reason

but the thing is

he really can’t think of one,,,,,,or at least he can’t think of one that sounds like an excuse for why he knows he really did it

“you asked me,,,back in the hotel room if the things i observed about you are things that someone could actually fall in love with.”

“yes, but what-”

“i think,,,”

he starts and stops himself, because this is all new - this is all different for him

he needs time

“i think,,,,,,those things about you - they’re very much lovable and very much worth protecting which is why,,,,,,”

he wants to bring up his hand to run through his hair, but the pain from his wound makes him wince

you come closer, touching him gently and just that sends a shock wave through his body

unfamiliar, but not unwelcome

“which is why i took that bullet. i couldn’t bare the thought of you losing any of those habits, of losing you.”

this sounds like a confession of feelings, but you can never be sure with him

so you decide that the best way to know is to be straightforward, to be logical just like he always is

“does that mean,,,,,,,,,,you like me?”

doyoung’s eyes flash for a moment, but he tilts his head

“all of my reasoning points to that answer. yes. i do like you.”

you resist the urge to smile a little

“oh,,,,,,,,well”

“do you like me too?”

coming from him, you can’t believe it sounds so childishly cute and innocent

“i will admit, the whole keeping a file on me thing was a little weird but im going to assume you were just trying to understand me - right?”

doyoung plays with his fingers and looks shamefully down

“yes,,,i just i have never really-”

“shhh shhh,,,,,,,what im saying is yes doyoung i like you too. in a weird way, this whole trip - this experience with you has made me understand that deep down you’re not some emotionless person. you’re a person who feels a lot and just has never had the chance to express it.”

he looks stunned - and you’re proud to say that you’ve stumped one of the smartest man in all of south korea

but on the other hand none of that matters

what matters is that you want to be a person who will help doyoung discover this side of himself

because it’s been locked away, stunted from growing since he was a child

doyoung stands up and you follow him as he leads you into the room where he’d been treated

he closes the door and you stare at him, blonde hair a mess, clothes a mess, blood on his jeans and on his knuckles

nothing like the doyoung you met for the first time back at jung enterprises

he comes closer, you bite back your lip but let him places his hands back on your hips

“since we both like each other, can i re-do the kiss from before?”

he breathes against your neck

you close your eyes, nod and feel doyoung unleash what he’s been holding back for so long

after all of that, jaehyun contacts doyoung and tells him that the trip back is all set up

it’s on the plane back to seoul where you finally ask doyoung what’s been on your mind

“why did you join the jungs?”

“what better job is there for someone whose been conditioned to be emotionless than illegal work?”

you agree, but now he’s not the same person as before - does that mean he wants to continue working for them?

he looks to the side, where jungwoo is fast asleep

the superficial scars are small on his face, but he’s worn out and still malnourished from the week of starvation

“i don’t think i can leave this job right now, will that make it hard for you to be with me?”

you touch the ring that you’re still wearing, doyoung is still wearing it too

“i just think you could use your mind for better things - for medical discoveries or helping others ,,,,, it’s a shame you have to use it working for people like that.”

he leans in, and you’re shocked when doyoung places a fluttering kiss to your lips

“you make me want to be a better person and i want to do all of those great things you believe im capable of, but it’ll take time - will you be there by my side?”

you think that if you can survive an undercover rescue operation for the jung family, you can stand by doyoung’s side through anything

that being said you’re not sure how the rest of the office is going to take a romantic relationship between you and him

but when you get back home - everyone is crowded around in your tiny apartment

everyone from jaehyun to taeyong to taeil

and when you and doyoung come in holding hands

mark nearly faints and jungwoo goes

“yeah i know, i can’t believe it either.”

let’s just say it takes some getting used to, but it’s worth it because each day doyoung becomes more and more his true self

and even jungwoo picks up on a smiling habit

and maybe not right now, but in the future you know he’s destined for better things and you’ll be there to help him see those goals through

#nct scenarios #nct imagines #nct au #doyoung scenarios #doyoung imagines #doyoung au #nct 127 scenarios #nct 127 imagines #nct 127 au #member: doyoung #regular au #blood/#weapons/#who am i? who wrote this? that k*** scene? shaggy......it was not me!

1K notes · View notes

acrobaticcatfeline · 5 years

Text

Logan Alastair and the Slytherin Curse (the Hogwarts AU)!!!

Word Count: 3391

TW: Oof, ok so, bullying, violence, blood mention, bruises, um, its implied that Patton can see through invisibility spells and has more understanding of things than he should which might be a squick(is that the right term?), IDK Patton just knows... a lot more than he should. I think that’s it? let me know if there’s anything else!

Notes: Here it is!!! God I swear the headcannon had like thirty notes up until a few days ago and then it exploded!!! It’s at 206 notes now heck I’m glad this is something yaller excited for! I hope you enjoy reading this as much is I enjoyed writing it!!! This is the first half of the “intros”, once I’m finished introducing at least Virgil, we will be up into the 3rd year and we’ll have some shenanigans of the boys just being boys!

Pairings: nothing... yet. some slight slight hints at logince at the end? eventual logince and moxiety and maybe more, IDK yet if I’m adding more characters.

Summary: “you are a disgrace to this house. The sorting hat has made its first ever mistake it seems, good to know.” Logan Alastair didn’t choose to be a wizard, are you kidding me? He wants to be back at home with his dogs and parents and dealing with normal bullies, not ones that could kill you with the wave of a hand! This is all way too much at once, but maybe things will get better with a few friends...

“you are a disgrace to this house. The sorting hat has made its first ever mistake it seems, good to know.”

The snarling replies from every person at his house table caused the boy to cast an invisibility charm and run to his common room. He felt the gazes still, likely from the house ghost, as he hid on the other side of the stone wall. He was lucky to have overheard a Slytherin mention the password, otherwise he would have probably flung himself into the lake. He flicked his wand and his belongings appeared on his bed. He sat on the floor, casting an illusion spell that lasted much longer, pulled out his spell book, and picked up his new owl, affectionately named merlin. He held the bird close as he read through his book, practicing different spells he saw as simple enough that any pure blood would know. He had always been a bright kid with a passion and speed for learning. On the train here he had hidden in an empty carriage and been practicing different spells that could be used for defense and very simple attack spells.

He had no disillusionment that this new school would be free of bullies, and after getting sorted he already wanted to leave and sleep in his own bed and hug his dog. He should have pulled a “harry potter” and asked the sorting hat to keep him out of Slytherin, but he had hidden and saw no need until he had already gotten sorted.

Now, Logan Alastair sat hidden in a veil of illusions so he could read his books in silence. He traded focus from his spell book over to his history book. He enchanted it quickly to search for passages about Slytherin. The first bit of information he got was about Salazar, telling stories of his hatred of muggles and ‘mud bloods’ as they called them. After a quick search he realized just why his housemates shouted this at him. He brushed it off soon after, looking at the dark tinting of his skin and grimacing, didn’t seem far off from what people at home said about him. It seemed much less hurtful than what some muggles had called him before. Regardless, he continued through the book, smiling fondly at the fact that merlin, the famous wizard merlin, was a Slytherin true of heart. He read about Severus Snape, and while he seemed like less of a genuinely good person and more like a selfish jerk that just so happened to not be the absolute worst, it was nice to see instances of not evil cruel Slytherin’s. He then traded focus yet again to a recent history of Hogwarts, and the battle of Hogwarts told by survivors. He did the same spell, getting far more positives than before. It told of less well known Slytherin’s that did good in the end. Regulus Black, Andromeda Tonks, Draco Malfoy, Astoria Malfoy, so many that had shady roots that redeemed themselves in more ways than one during the battle and onwards. He read a small bit on Isolt Sayre who had a short blip saying they were a direct descendant of Slytherin but had fled to the new world after escaping her murderous relative.

This of course led him down a rabbit hole, searching for the name in any other book, and after a few minutes he found that she had been the one to institute the school of Ilvermorny and had broken the pure bloodline by marrying a muggle. Well he had a new role model geez… he made it to the magical beast’s textbook and smiled as he recognized the authors name as a famous Hufflepuff who was known for defeating Grindelwald, a terrifying purest the likes of Voldemort but you know, he had a nose and skin pigment. He had always read exceptionally fast, it was the thing that occupied his time in his youth, as he couldn’t make friends very easily. He thought it had been hours when the rest of the Slytherin students made it up, however he had only been there for approximately half an hour. He quickly stashed his things and sat on his bed, drawing an illusion of him sleeping as a curtain on his bed. He looked through and saw people actively find a bed as far from his as possible, and he had no problem with that. He sat watching closely as everyone set their bags down and luckily for everyone, everyone ended up 2 beds away from him at least. Logan felt his stomach grumble and cast disillusionment on himself and dashed out of the common room quickly. He made it up to the kitchen area soon, knowing that he would be able to get past the house elves easily. He went to grab food only to get swatted by… something. He turned over and saw a boy who looked his age with big round glasses nearly falling off his face. The boy has curly red hair and his eyes are ocean blue behind the red frames he wore. He wore a yellow and black jumper over a pair of black sweatpants with the Hufflepuff mascot across its leg. Another look at their face and he saw freckles scattered everywhere and he was surprised he hadn’t noticed them sooner. However, he seemed to have taken a while to respond as the boy crossed his arms and pouted at him.

“uhm… you can… see me?”

The boy rolled his eyes somewhat playfully and gave a grin at him. He changed his posture to a more relaxed one, putting his thumbs in his pockets as he answered.

“well of course I can silly! You’re just slightly glittery! Why, am I not supposed to see you?”

“well, no? no you’re not, this is a chameleon spell I'm supposed to be blended in with the environment no one should be able to see me!” he got grumpy and shed the charm, glaring at the annoyingly taller student.

“oh well geez I dunno! Oh, hey you’re not glittery anymore!!!”

“did I do the spell wrong? Does this spell only make me less corporeal? Oh gosh I need another cloaking spell oh god my housemates will see me, and they’ll kill me what was I thinking? Maybe, maybe there's another train out? I can just go home to my dog and I wont have to do this magic stuff it’s not worth it I didn’t want this I wanted to grow up like a normal kid and see my parents everyday and go to school with normal bullies, not ones with literal death machines the size of a pen why did I come this is stupid I bet this isn’t even real maybe if I just go to sleep Ill be back at home-”

“hey kiddo, calm down! I uh, I don’t know how to help you out, uhhh, here, let’s get you some food and get you sitting down somewhere so you can breathe. Come on kiddo lets get you some food.”

After stacking a plate sky high with food, the boy hands Logan the plate and pulls out his wand, tapping on some barrels then causing one of them to fly open. The boy looks towards Logan again waving his wand at the plate and chants ‘ebublio’ to which the plate gets surrounded in a bubble. He grabs it from him and beckons Logan as he hops into the barrel. Logan, who now has his food on the line follows, somewhat hesitantly. They reach the end of the passage and the boy turns yet again and waves his wand this time at Logan, chanting the word ‘colovaria’ and when Logan looked back at his robes, he was shocked to see he wore Hufflepuff colors.

“sorry, it’s a precaution. No one from another house has ever come inside the Hufflepuff common room and if word got out that some year one kid let one in, I would be done for. Anyways, sit on down kiddo, anywhere you feel like it, though, the couches are super-duper comfy.”

Logan honestly had no idea what to do with the last few minutes, so he did as instructed, and giggled softly as the boy dramatically popped the bubble. He grabbed a piece of bread off the top and takes a bite, eyes widening in awe at the good taste. After getting over the initial shock he looks at the boy curiously.

“what's your name?”

The boy giggled heavily and smiled a big toothy grin. Logan felt slightly bad about the fact that he automatically noticed the slight gap in his teeth. He fiddled with his bright red frames and bowed dramatically.

“where are my manners!!! Hello Logan, I am Patton Scamander!!! The one and only!!! Pfft I sound silly, don’t I? anyways yup yup I'm the 4th generation of Scamander hufflefluffs!!!”

Logan stared at him blankly for a good few seconds before his eyes finally widened in realization.

“wait, you’re related to Newt Scamander? Isn’t he the one who”

“yup! He wrote fantastic beasts! And apprehended Grindelwald!!! Oh, and my mom is Luna Lovegood! She’s a hoot and a holler let me tell you, she thinks I'm quirky!!!”

Logan was in disbelief. This kid was the son of famous Ravenclaw wizard Luna Lovegood. And the great grandson of newt Scamander the magizooligist. Granted he literally only learned all of this information today, but he had a general idea that Grindelwald was a magical Hitler and thus made anyone involved in his capture war heroes and at least back home he was told to respect war heroes for defending their freedoms and yada yada, Logan was rambling.

“wait, that means your mom knew Albus Dumbledore!!! I uh, I only found out about him today, I only found out a lot of stuff today, but wasn’t he like”

Logan wasn’t able to form words for what he had been trying to convey and started vaguely gesturing and Patton just nodded and agreed. After finishing his food, he got up and poked at the entrance, trying to figure out how to leave.

“aw, leaving so soon Lolo? We were just beginning to become friends!!!”

“uh, well its late and we do have class tomorrow and I should probably sleep…”

“well can’t you sleep over? We have plenty of time to get our books between breakfast and our first class! Speaking of which, what's your first class?”

“uhm, well I guess I can? I dunno… um, when did we get our schedules?”

“oh, we don’t get them until tomorrow technically, but I have a pretty general idea of what I have, I guess. Was just wondering if you did too!”

“oh, no I uh, I don’t even know what classes there are. I didn’t know magic existed until today.”

“oh!!! Oh… oh you poor muggle born got sorted into Slytherin I'm so sorry!”

“speaking of which, what is the differences between each of the houses?”

“oh geez, uh how do I explain this… ok so my house is Hufflepuff! Hufflepuffs are in general, hard workers, who are dedicated patient and loyal! We are known for being just and true and our motto is ‘do what is nice’! We’re also great finders! Ravenclaws are smarty pants!!! Wisdom, intelligence, creativity, cleverness and knowledge, that’s them basically, they value brains over brawn! Their motto is ‘do what is wise’. Gryffindors are brave, adventurous, loyal, courageous, daring and chivalrous, they’re the storybook heroes! Their motto is ‘do what is right’. And Slytherin’s… well they have good qualities! Not all of them are bad! Obviously, because you’re really nice!!! Ok so they’re generally cunning, resourceful, ambitious, intelligent, and determined and they’re natural born leaders! They love being in charge, but they’re often arrogant and prideful, their motto is ‘do what is necessary’. The reason they get a bad rep is because many dark wizards are alumni from that house. It’s also a stereotype that all Slytherin’s are pure bloods. Its not far from the truth but anyone can be a Slytherin. I mean even harry potter fit into the house! The only reason he was a Gryffindor was because he begged the hat for anything else because Draco Malfoy made a bad impression on him. Slytherins are not bad, I feel a need to emphasize this. I feel bad for you because the current members of the house are less than savory. They aren’t evil, but they’re certainly not very nice. And it sucks that your first experience with wizards is them calling you names and hiding under the covers until the sun goes away.”

“heh that was very specific…”

“you’re a rather easy read Logan, you’re very interesting nonetheless!”

“um. Ok? Thanks, I think?”

“you’re positively welcome!!!”

Months pass, and Logan has picked up the habit of spending nights with Patton in the Hufflepuff commons. At this point in the year, late April, he’s already gone home for visits twice, and he’s contentedly walking back to the Hufflepuff commons after a walk through the library.

Of course, him being who he is, he notices a fight in the corridor. All he can see at his vantage point is green and red, a punch to the face and the greens laughing. Of course, the Slytherin’s were torturing innocent students again. He ran towards them and yelled, waving his wand and shouting ‘stupefy’ leading the two Slytherin boys to fall over. He swished his wand at the Gryffindor in front of him, saying ‘wingardium leviosa’ before booking it to Hufflepuff quarters.

He’s surprised to make it all the way there without getting caught, though the pictures on the walls can talk and… he might’ve passed Severus Snape and he did not want to be in the open when headmaster McGonagall heard about it. She’s a Gryffindor after all, she might get the wrong idea.

No no, he would say, no I wasn’t the one to knock him out I swear, it was two of my housemates who I don’t know because I'm terrified of them and that’s why I took the Gryffindor kid to my friend who knows healing magic and no its not a Hufflepuff, sorry I don’t know there house of course not because I didn’t go into the Hufflepuff commons, no ones been in the Hufflepuff commons, of course it was a um Ravenclaw yeah it was a Ravenclaw cuz they’re smart and would know healing magic, I mean they do know healing magic, of course I wouldn’t make a bet on maybe heheh yeah so in conclusion I'm sorry please don’t expel me miss McGonagall I did nothing wrong!

Yeah that wouldn’t work in the slightest. Hopefully he was fast enough that Snape didn’t see his face. Or maybe he wouldn’t tell because he was biased toward Slytherin’s. Let’s hope. Either way at the moment Logan had to enter the code for the Hufflepuff dorms as quick as possible because he did not want this Gryffindor to wake up and panic. He wordlessly changed the color of both their robes before jumping in the barrel.

“Patton? Patton there might have been an incident?”

“Comin Logi-bear!!! Ooh geez what happened!!! Logi you know fighting’s bad, how’d you end up in this situation?!?!?! Oh, give him here, oh I know him the poor thing looks half dead!!! Come on kiddo we’ll fix you right up!”

Patton grabbed the floating boy and carried him to the couch. He ran back and forth, grabbing bandages, ointments, elixirs, ice, anything and everything to make the boy less in pain. He set a bag of ice on his face, the spot Logan saw him get punched, put ointment on a cut on his lips and one on his eyebrow, and poured a little bit of the elixir in the boys’ mouth. He then rolled up his sleeves and checked out his arms, finding quite a few breaks of skin and bruises, indicating possible fractures. Patton looked over at Logan before looking back towards the arm he was bandaging.

“so, what happened lo? He’s a wreck, I doubt you could’ve done this if you wanted to!”

“why do you always assume the worst in me?”

“I don’t! I usually assume the best in you, but I prepare for the worst. Worst case scenario isn’t you getting grumpy this time! You’re not this strong, and you usually realize your mistakes sooner, you wouldn’t have caused this much damage before your conscious weighed back in. Really lo, it’s obvious.”

“I'm going to ignore your oddly astute conclusion in favor of defending myself. A couple of other Slytherin’s were ganging up on him and I was on my way back from the library when I bumped into them. I unfortunately have a moral compass-”

“that’s me!!!”

“-and I stupefied the lot of them, and grabbed this one who was knocked out, likely due to the impact on his cranium, the only actual hit I saw thrown. I imagine the two were cruel enough to continue attacking him even if he was unconscious on the ground. So, I brought him to you. If its of any importance, he’s from Gryffindor.”

“oh yeah, no I know who he is Logan, he’s a friend of mine, Roman Weasley. With the Weasley name I wouldn’t doubt any of it. The same people in your house that hate you hate him for the same reasons. Weasleys are blood traitors, willingly involving themselves with muggles, muggle borns, half-bloods, the whole nine yards. Cedrella black was disowned for marrying a Weasley, to put it in perspective. Their family is part of the sacred 28, the list of all currently completely pure-blooded families. For the most part all the families are Slytherin predominant but there's still the Weasley’s and Longbottom’s, as well as some others I can’t list off the top of my head, that defy that rule. Of course, the Slytherin’s make the biggest deal out of it, but anyways. Its good you brought him he is worse for wear the poor thing.”

Patton waved his wand over the boy, Roman’s, face. Soon after, his eyes slowly opened, and soon after that he was flailing upward in panic, falling off the couch in attempt to escape a perceived threat. Once he fully recognized the situation, he let out a deep sigh and laid on the floor.

“Patton you really mustn’t do this to me I have enough nightmares of people in my face without waking up to it! Where am I even, I don’t recognize this part of Hogwarts.”

“sorry bout that Ro! Was just worried about you! You’re in the Hufflepuff common room!”

“huh. You know when you said it was next to the kitchen, I expected it to smell more like food.”

“I expected it to smell like weed but apparently wizards get high in other ways…”

Roman turned to look at Logan with an odd stare.

“what weed? Gillyweed? Snakeweed? Also, why? I mean I know the best herbology students are usually Hufflepuff but-”

“no not- ugh how do I say this, its, it’s a hum-mor-muggle thing. Its actual name is something different, but it’s a… it’s a bad thing that people can eat and smoke, but it makes them really hungry afterwards. It doesn’t matter.”

“that sounds weird. You’re weird, who are you? How do you know Patton?”

“I know everybody!!!”

“precisely that. I have become friends with Patton. It’s also why you’re here instead of having my housemates still attacking you like big jerks.”

Roman stares blankly at Logan and Logan questions why the boy’s cheeks redden.

“oh. Uh, thanks then. Uh, I should probably be going I have class, but um, what's your name?”

“Logan. It was a pleasure meeting you Roman”

“uh yeah, you too-”

“hold on Ro drink this! It’s a painkiller, it’ll help make sure the bruises and cuts don’t hurt.”

“oh, thanks popstar! Quite nice of you!”

He drank the elixir and gave Logan an odd look before absconding to class. Logan didn’t understand this, and he also didn’t understand the warm feeling in his own cheeks, or the smug look Patton had on his face. He didn’t quite understand what was going on, but he knew enough to know that he didn’t want to know more. At least, not right now…

Taglist: @fivebyfive-finebyfive @fandoms-winkitywonk @thennevermind @the-shipper189 @confinesofpersonalknowledge @bruntriceballs @creativity-killed-thekitten @crookedlyoptimisticdestiny

Let me know if you want to be tagged in my writing!!! Or if you want to be taken off my list!!!

Thank you for reading I will see you later ladies lords and nonbinary royalty!!!

29 notes · View notes

clouds-of-wings · 5 years

Text

I think most posts on here that are trying to defend Ben's actions throughout the series are not ambitious enough. They mostly refer to psychology to explain why he did what he did without even considering the possibility that his actions were logical and even right.

(Warning: very long post ahead)

Of course, this line of argument is made more difficult by the canon itself - namely that the writers have him say in season 6 that he was only ever after power, that he did terrible things he had to atone for etc. I think his character arc in season 6 doesn't do him justice and is inconsistent with other parts of the show. A significant part of the problem is probably the big number of different writers and directors throughout the show, each of whom viewed the characters they wrote about differently and had a different understanding of their motives.

Any understanding of the motives of characters is further complicated by the absolutely annoying way in which information is being revealed in Lost - most of the time, the characters are willing to base their action upon information they KNOW is so sketchy and incomplete as to be practically useless, only caring to ask the most obvious follow-up questions to a comment or instruction in-show days or weeks later. For example, to the best of my knowledge, no one ever asks what precisely would happen in Smokey were to leave the island or how and why exactly he is evil. Richard (and Jacob's ghost, if I remember correctly) just tells them that it would be very, very bad - and somehow that's enough information for everybody. Unless someone takes the initiative to explain themselves, we won't know what exactly they want because the others are sure as hell not going to ask for it. And which character holds his cards closest to his chest? Exactly. No wonder we don't get a good view at them.

So, going partially against canon and thinking about how someone in this world, outside the Lost universe, would deal with the situation at hand is probably the only way of judging anyone's actions in the show. And in the case of Ben, here's how the situation presents itself, in my view at least:

He is on a secret island that holds immense power - he does not know precisely what kind of power but has seen enough (and been brought back from near-death by this strange power) to know the place is special - there's a giant smoke monster in the forest, ghosts of dead people appear, and a smart child like him would probably have known at least roughly what the Dharma initiative was researching, that there was a source of unlimited and volatile energy they were unearthing. Later on, he is put in charge of leading the main group of the island's permanent inhabitants.

Now it is up to debate how much Ben knows about the world outside the island, but from the way he navigates it when he arrives in Tunisia through the wheel it appears as though he's pretty worldly.

Going from that, what would realistically be likely to happen if the island was discovered? There are several possibilities:

1. Due to the healing power the island possesses, sick people from all over the world would want to come. As we know, the health effects of simply being on the island are reversible - John Locke is back in his wheelchair when he leaves (but also not when he tries to kill himself? I don’t know) - so permanent residence on the island would become impossibly expensive. We also know the island doesn't heal automatically - Ben got a tumor - and even kills people intentionally. We don't know what the island's criteria and basic "ideology" are. If the island is charitable, it would over time be covered by houses for very rich terminally ill people. With the bamboo forest cleared to make room for houses, people who would sooner or later discover the Source and thus hold the fate of the world in their hands.

1.2 This is, of course, based on the assumption that ownership of the island can be determined. Since it is assumed that there are no undiscovered land masses, there is no law regarding this scenario. Every piece of the Earth (except for Antarctica and some disputed territories such as Palestine) is part of a nation-state. Assuming the island is more than 12 nautical miles away from land, it is in international waters. Best-case scenario, the island declares independence immediately (and its declaration is accepted!), the worst-case scenario would probably be closer to war over which country it belongs to. After all, as I wrote above, an island with the kind of healing powers this one possesses would be invaluable. And that's not even mentioning the...

2. Unlimited electromagnetic power. Oh, the possibilities. The likely outcome here would be to transform the Island into a military station. And then they find the Source. In a touch of realism, by the way, the biggest funder of the Dharma initiative was an arms dealer.

These two outcomes would be the most likely in my view. In any case, the powers of the Island would be commercialised, the Island itself colonialised. Sooner or later whoever has control over it would find the source and effectively control the fate of the world. That someone would likely be a national government that now has the ultimate WMD in its hands.

And that's why the Island has to be kept a secret at all costs. The reason is not that otherwise Charles Widmore will go around murdering people, and it's certainly not, as a writer stupidly has Ben say in the finale, just "how Jacob ran things", something that can be changed by Hurley's cuddliness. It's not exaggerated to say that the freedom and potentially the survival of the entire world depends on the Island staying secret. And that's why imprisoning people on the island who were just unfortunate to come there is justified, it's why murdering in order to keep it secret is justified. It's by far the smaller evil. It's the kind of work no one wants to do but, in the context Lost sets up, someone has to do. Here, Ben has the unenviable task of doing it.

Same goes for The Purge. Seeing the Others/Hostiles as people who just irrationally want to have other people off "their" island is missing the point. Firstly, Dharma is threatening the survival of the island itself, and secondly, they might also find the Source. What alternative to killing them is there if they won't leave on their own? Just letting them in on the secret would probably not be a good idea, as shown by their recklessness in dealing with the energy pocket.

The scientists who discovered how nuclear energy could be weaponised wrote a letter to the US government afterwards begging it not to use their discovery. But it was in vain. These scientists might have wished for the rest of their lives that they had kept their knowledge secret - although in their case the discovery could have been made by someone else (likely the Nazis). The Island, on the other hand, can only be revealed by someone who has been there and knows where it is.

The strange thing is that this line of reasoning would, of all in-show lines, best be summed up by Smokey's famous "They come. They fight. They destroy. They corrupt." - yet keeping the Island secret is by imprisoning everyone who knows about it on it is, as Ben says in the finale, "the way Jacob ran things". Jacob, who ostensibly had a more positive view of humanity than his brother. Or did he learn better after Dharma and the nuclear tests the US government conducted?

#ben linus #benjamin linus #lost tv #abc lost #i wrote this like 4 years ago it was at the bottom of my drafts #i hope i got my facts right #but the lost universe is kinda annoying to write meta about #because everything is so scattered and contradictory #and i say that as a tolkien fan lol

2 notes · View notes

redstarfiction-blog · 7 years

Text

A piece set around the time of Ellen’s death and Claire’s illness on the ridge. Thank you for reading and I hope you’re all having a terrific week so far ❤️ xxx

Jamie pressed his nose against the bakery window and breathed deeply. The smell of freshly baked bread filled him with a sense of home and he needed that very badly right now. Everything felt so wrong since his mam died. His father was beside himself and seemed thinner and angrier every day. His sister was trying her best but her dinners tasted awful and she never seemed to stop crying.

Jamie had wept too, of course. They all had and his chest still felt tight with sorrow whenever he thought of his Mam. Her presence in the house was so strong he kept expecting to see her around each corner and every time he entered a room he felt her there and wanted nothing more than to hold or be held by her again.

He had tried to hug his father that morning, to try and offer some comfort and seek some too, but after nearly crushing him in a sudden embrace Brian had asked him to leave him be.

Jamie had closed the door to his father’s study and heard the familiar wail of his father’s grief, followed by terrible cursing and thumping as he pounded the desk with his clenched fists. Jamie had been hovering outside the door uncertain of what to do when Mrs Crook hurried out of the kitchen and ushered him away with her. “Dinna fash wee Jamie. Ye Da is strained wi’ sorrow but he’ll be alright.”

“Shouldn’t we go to him?”

“No laddie, leave him be. Men grieve alone, aye?”

She had wrapped an arm around his shoulders and propelled him ahead of her into the warmth of the kitchen where Jenny was stood on a stall at the sink peeling carrots.

“Da’s greetin’ again Jenny.”

“I ken that. I ha’ ears clotheid!” Jenny had snapped, turning to glare at him. Mrs Crook had held up her hands and tried to place herself between them but Jamie had ducked around her to return Jenny’s glare.

“Dinna call me a clotheid!”

“Dinna be one then!”

“Targe Cuddie!” Jamie had yelled and had already been mentally preparing his next insult when Jenny burst into tears. It shocked him so much he had simply gawped at her as Mrs Crook hurried over and folded Jenny into her ample bosom.

“Jenny … Jenny I’m sorry … I didna mean it…”

He had padded forward softly and Mrs Crook had simply pulled him into the clutch as well, waiting for Jenny to quieten to the occasional sniff before releasing her hold on them. Jenny had wiped her eyes on her sleeve and Jamie had offered her his own, rather grubby handkerchief.

“That needs washing Jamie, gi’ it here and I’ll see to it for ye.”

“I can do it.” Jamie had offered and Jenny had favoured him with a small smile.

“Ye dinna ken how to do laundry but Mrs Crook showed me. I will show ye how to do it later so ye dinna scald ye fingers or get soap everywhere.”

The argument between them was clearly over and Jamie had nodded gamely but Mrs Crook seemed to have had enough of the Fraser children’s tempers clashing for a little while and had bade him go to the village and bring back two loaves of bread instead.

“I can make bread.” Jenny had frowned indignantly, but with an excuse about the kitchen not being warm enough for dough to rise in time for dinner, Mrs Crook pressed some coins into Jamie’s palm and nudged him toward the door.

“Besides, it will do ye brother good to be of use and out of mischief.” She smiled and pecked Jamie lightly on the head to show she didn’t mean it. She had given him his instructions whilst bundling him into a coat and thick knitted scarf to ward off the cold.

“Two loaves, fresh as ye can, if the baker asks for more than two pence each, ye tell him who ye are and who the bread is for.”

“He kens who I am!”

“Aye, but kenning somethin’ an’ hearin’ it plain spoke are two different things sometimes.”

“Alright.”

“And dinna pick the loaves on ye way home or there’ll be no pie for ye after supper.”

She warned finally, tucking a fabric sack into his pocket to carry the bread home in.

Jamie had waved and taken off at a trot, almost giddy with the sense of freedom after days cooped up indoors.

He had run until his lungs felt fit to burst and then slowed to a jog, delighting in the foggy shapes his breath created in front of him. He wrote his name with a finger on frosty fence posts and had found a suitably thick stick to pretend it was a sword and he was battling monsters and evil clansmen alike.

When he reached the village he headed straight to the bakers and it was as he stood looking in that John Murray clapped a hand on his shoulder.

“Hàlo Jamie.”

“Hàlo Mister Murray.”

Jamie hid the stick behind his back, feeling guilty to have been playing when he knew he should be in mourning.

“How are ye laddie?”

“I’m verra well thank ye,” Jamie answered automatically and John’s lip quirked at the boy’s good manners, knowing what a terror he had the ability to be when the mood took him. He plucked the stick out of the boy’s hand and held it as reverently as any blade.

“Ye ha’ found a fine weapon I see. Verra nice!”

John winked at Jamie who grinned sheepishly at him in response. Handing back the stick John cleared his throat

“How is ye father?”

“Da is …”

Jamie bit his lip and swung the stick absently, trying to find words that might adequately capture the state of his father. John nodded in quiet understanding.

“Do ye think he would appreciate some company?”

“I dinna ken Sir. A man grieves alone, aye?”

John nodded again and sighed heavily.

“Aye but I’ll be along anyway. How is wee Janet?”

“She’s learning to cook.” Jamie shrugged; he didn’t want to talk about his sister crying, especially as he still felt a little guilty for upsetting her so much that very morning. Misreading Jamie’s guilt for a grimace John laughed

“Hang in there lad, she’ll be a bonnie cook before ye ken it.”

John grinned and then crouched down in front of Jamie. “Ye Da is like to be fair distracted for a wee while yet, so should ye need anything at all, either ye or Jenny, come to me, aye?”

Before he knew what he was doing, Jamie threw his arms around the older man’s neck and held on for all he was worth. John patted his back and hushed him gently. Once the little lad’s shoulders stopped shaking he carefully detached Jamie’s grip on him and stood him up.

“I ken this is a terrible time for ye and I willna lie to ye and say it will stop hurtin’ any time soon, but it will get easier wi’ time. Ye mother was a wonderful woman and she loved her bairns fiercely and was sae proud o’ ye both. Ye must try and be strong and brave now, like she would want ye to be.”

John held Jamie’s stare and smiled into those remarkable blue cat eyes.

“Stay as honest, loyal and good as ye are and ye Mam will always be able to look down on ye from Heaven wi’ pride and ken that she did a grand job.”

Jamie nodded, slightly awestruck by the normally stern and stoic Mr Murray speaking to him so freely but then, it seemed that the world was on its head in all ways at the moment.

“Alrigh’. Go on and get what ye were told to and hurry home.”

John stood up and ruffled Jamie’s hair. “Oh Jamie! Tonight, ye must be sure to tell Janet that she has done a fine job of dinner, whatever it’s like, she’ll appreciate ye sayin’ so.” *

Jamie collected the loaves and headed for home, swinging the sack around like a catapult. As he approached Lallybroch he realised that he was slowing down and felt a twinge of guilt, still he could not deny that the prospect of going into the gloomy house was not exactly appealing.

He hovered by the gate wondering if he could slip the bread into the kitchen and be on his way again without Mrs Crook collaring him and making him sit by the fire to warm up.

“Jamie?” Brian’s voice made him jump and Jamie half crushed one loaf as he snatched the bag out of the air before it hit the ground. “Och! I’m sorry! I didna mean to scare ye.” Brian offered guiltily and stepped forward to rescue the food.

“I wasna scairt.” Jamie passed it to him and looked up at his father cautiously under his lashes. Brian seemed better than he had for days and Jamie wondered whether, like him, his Da had just needed to be out in cold and wet for a while to feel normal again.

“Ye dinna wish to go inside and get warm?”

“I’m no’ verra cold Da and it’s good to be outside.” Brian smiled at him, the first part was clearly not the truth, Jamie’s fingers were red with cold and his nose was running, but the second part was so abundantly true Brian couldn’t fault the lad.

“Aye it is. The house doesna feel quite right at the moment does it?”

“Mam is still there but she’s gone too so it feels a bit queer.”

Jamie shrugged and Brian nodded, giving his son a side long look.

“I miss her terribly Jamie, just as ye and Jenny do, and my behaviour has been a bit … erratic.”

Brian could feel the lad watching him intently and bit his lip, just as Jamie so often did and braced himself to say what he wanted to say.

“I dinna ken if I will be a verra good substitute for ye Mam. She had a way about her that is … was … softer than mysel’. Ye and Jenny ha’ both inherited my temper, ye ken?”

Jamie nodded and the action sent a draft under his collar making him shiver. Brian set the sack down and reached out, taking both of Jamie’s hands in one of his own and using his free hand to rub some warmth into them, his calloused palm chafing gently across the back of his son’s small, smooth hands.

“What I mean to say,” Brian continued “Is that I canna promise I will be as gentle as ye Mam, nor as patient, but I will try. I love ye both, verra much, I hope ye ne’er doubt that.”

“No Da.”

“Good.” Brian looked out over Jamie’s head and lifted one hand to wave at Jenny, her small face visible in the kitchen window.

“Go on in wi’ this,” He said handing Jamie the sack of bread

“But Da…” “An’ tell ye sister to wrap up warm, I think we shall go for a ride.” Brian spoke over the top of Jamie’s protest and smiled at him. “Change ye stockings too. Those are far too thin for this weather.”

It was the sort of thing his mother would have thought of and it sounded strange coming from his father but Jamie didn’t comment on it and hurried to do as he was asked, eager to saddle up and feel the wind whipping through his hair.

“JENNY!!” He hollered, running toward the kitchen door and was dimly aware of his father calling out to him not to go around screeching like an angry kestrel. That was a far more usual patriarchal instruction!

* “Da?”

Jamie looked up with a start and blinked at Brianna, standing in the doorway to his study. The smell of freshly baked bread was wafting into the room from the kitchen and she was smiling at him with a slight frown of concern between her brows.

“Are you OK?”

“I am.” Jamie stood up and rubbed his eyes hastily to clear his head and bring him fully back to the present. He had not been asleep but in a sort of haze between wakefulness and unconsciousness that allowed his mind to wander.

“How’s ye mother?”

“Asleep, but her pulse is strong and she seems to be over the worst of it.”

Brianna’s smile widened and she stepped into the room, opening her arms to him. Jamie embraced her warmly and kissed the copper silk of her hair.

“That’s good news a leannan. I’ll go an’ sit wi’ her for a while.” Brianna nodded, she had managed to persuade her father to leave her mother’s side to get some rest but it was clear he had not slept at all and she knew better than to try and keep him away any longer.

“Sure, but have some lunch first.”

Jamie’s stomach growled and he grinned shyly at his daughter.

“Aye, that seems wise. I dinna wish my gut to be the first thing ye Mam hears when she wakes.”

Brianna laughed at the thought of her mother’s indignation and led the way through to the kitchen. “I don’t think she’d mind too much but eat anyway.”

She placed a plate of bread, ham and cheese in front of him as he sat down at the table. Jamie caught her wrist as she moved away and bit his lip.

“I ken ye mother will be alright, I dinna doubt it at all, but …” He raised his eyes to meet his daughters and held her gaze steadily.

“I wish ye to ken that should anything ever happen to her, I would do my best to love ye well enough for the both o’ us.”

Brianna leant forward and wordlessly kissed her father’s cheek, rough from days without shaving.

“Thank ye Da.” She murmured and squeezed his hand tightly before straightening and gesturing to his plate.

“Now seriously, eat your lunch! Or I will…” She nabbed a slice of ham from his plate and winked at him in the same way she might have done with Jem if he was being difficult.

Jamie laughed, obediently picking up a piece of the fresh bread and stuffing it happily in his mouth. *

#outlander fanfic #outlander au #outlander tv #outlander #fanfiction #fanfic #redstarfiction #Jamie Fraser

103 notes · View notes

maniibear · 7 years

Text

One of my fics I managed to save from Imzy for the prompt Recover. Tony mourns JARVIS during and after the events of AoU.

Word Count: ~1900 Warnings: None? Sadness, I guess.

The sun is a sliver on the horizon when Steve jogs down the steps of the Bartons’ farmhouse.

Laura had mentioned they might need more firewood and since she’s taking their, and now Fury’s, descent upon her home in complete stride, Steve didn’t need to be told twice. There’s a different kind of cacophony outdoors, one that fades to the background more quickly, but it’s kind of terrifying in its serenity. After all, what did the planet care about Ultron or his plans for stolen vibranium?

Weak, dusty light playfully limns the Quinjet and the trees alike as Steve makes his way to the barn. It fades like a kiss by the time he reaches the wooden door, which is supposed to be locked, but stands open just enough to offer a glimpse of a figure sitting alone in the dark, illuminated only by the artificial and decidedly unplayful light of a smartphone.

Steve sighs in relief, shrugs tension from his shoulders when he recognizes Tony’s particular silhouette. The team's looking for you, and you’d rather be with your tech, he wants to ask, only what he hears stops him in his tracks. Somewhere above the million sounds of nature, Steve’s enhanced hearing picks up Tony’s breath and a specific, aching wetness in it. Damn.

Steve slips into the barn as noiselessly as possible.

“Tony?” he ventures uncertainly, and the way the other man's body just curls in like a wounded animal confirms his suspicions. For a moment, Steve considers leaving and sparing Tony an audience and embarrassment, but that somehow feels like him showing his age.

Feeling stuff isn’t embarrassing, and it’s about damn time we start acting like it, Sam’s voice echoes in his head. Then, Tony’s shuddering breath becomes obvious even to someone without super hearing and Steve figures the darkness would provide plausible deniability if he wanted.

He sits on the wooden bench beside Tony and a quick glance at the Starkphone in the brunet’s hand makes things obvious. It’s footage of the city near the Wakandan coast, where the Hulk locked arms with the Hulkbuster armor. It’s obviously witness footage. It’s streaked with blood.

“Oh,” Steve sighs, because his own throat closes with grief. Probably for the best, because there’s a lot he wants to say, and none of it sounds right. He fidgets because inaction bothers him, but he’s not certain what to do. He desperately wishes Sam were here, but in the end, he settles for pressing his calf against Tony’s, a solid reminder of his company.

The next few seconds pass like this-- heavy silence punctuated by Tony’s quiet sniffling. Eventually, Steve reaches for the phone; the weak resistance he’s met with melts when he insists on tugging the thing out of Tony’s hands and switching it off. The pitch darkness that falls upon the barn then is almost a relief. Steve is tired, still raw from Wanda Maximoff’s number on his head, but he doubts he’ll sleep tonight, so this is what he has to be content with.

“We took a hit,” Steve echoes Tony’s words on the Quinjet. “But we’ll make it right. We’re Avengers,” he says and feels stupid before the words finish coming out of his mouth.

Tony just takes a measured breath and replies, “I miss JARVIS."

His voice is so small, so lost that Steve forgets to breathe. Any reassurances of ‘you can rebuild him’ die on his tongue because Tony says ‘JARVIS' like there just can’t be another. God, now he really wishes Sam were here. But Sam’s not, and all Steve has in the way of a field kit is the physical act of holding Tony to keep him from shaking apart.

Tony’s whole body goes rigid when Steve wraps an arm around his shoulders. What’s visible of him in the opaque blackness is torn, distrusting, but needful enough that Steve feels a mournful twinge. It’s going to be delicate handling, so he wisely avoids Tony’s neck and keeps his whole stance open and tentative.

Remarkably, Tony doesn’t shrug him off.

“It’s—it’s my fault,” he says instead. “I let him down. He always had my back and I. Mmh."

Steve tightens his hold, just to do something, because fuck, he’s the wrong person for this. He’s barely caught up to modern day tech and he is so far from being able to wrap his head around somebody who lived and breathed it and—

Steve recalls the hologram Tony bought up back in the Tower, a small, expertly crafted sun disfigured in—what did Bruce say—not strategy but rage. His photographic memory recalls every shredded pixel, every aborted synapse and torn neuron and if he reconciled that with this grief —Jesus Christ! Tony had come upon the mangled body of his most loyal sentinel and nobody had even paused for a moment of silence.

Steve feels ill. “Oh god, Tony, I’m sorry."

“I should have been monitoring him.” Tony rasps. “I mean, it’s what he did for me, right? Kept an eye on me so I didn’t end up torn to bits. Because I’ll tell you, New York wasn’t easy. Mark VII wasn’t ready, we weren’t fucking ready, but J rockstarred it out there. And god, I remember when Dad—"

Judging by the abrupt wince that follows, Steve suspects Tony bit his own tongue to cut himself off. It tells him a lot, though, but it’s so much he can’t even begin to unpack; not with Peggy’s voice still echoing in his head.

“Breathe,” he instructs evenly, sliding his palm from Tony’s shoulders to his back, unconsciously mimicking the motions of his own childhood.

Silence falls again. Steve pays attention to the rise and fall of Tony’s breath and glances out to the farmhouse. He left his own phone inside, but someone’s probably going to come out looking for them soon.

“You lost a friend,” he acknowledges. “That’s…I get it. It feels like the world makes less sense."

“No, it makes sense. " Tony counters. "I have a mission, and a pretentious twit of a robot in the middle of it."

“Tony, stop,” Steve shakes his head. “I mean it, we need each other more than ever now. This is too big for us to not be a team."

“Ha!” Tony’s voice is muffled, like he’s scrubbing his hand across his face. "No, you don’t understand. This doesn’t end well for the team."

That sounds fairly ominous, and Steve should probably ask about it, but he’s so damn tired. Visions of the dance hall and of Peggy flash at the corner of his mind like pages torn out of a book.

“We can take care of ourselves,” he says wearily. “You know that."

“What I know,” Tony begins and it sounds less like an acknowledgement than an argument, then he falters because Tony is tired too. “Fine. I know."

Steve’s glad it’s dark and nobody can see his smile at the grumpy retort. Another pause rolls between them, in which Steve can feel Tony’s ribs expand as wide as his own and hear their simultaneous outbreath—mournful, but somehow lighter in its sharing. Instinctively, he draws Tony’s head to lie on his shoulder. Perhaps unsurprisingly, there's no resistance, so Steve follows suit, rests his cheek atop a thatch of soft hair, and thinks he could weep at how terribly he needs this.

“But really,” he murmurs, not minding at all that Tony wiggles closer. “Together."

“But really,” Tony echoes. “You still have faith in all this…cotton candy?”

Someday later, Steve will put it into words—this whirl of what it really feels like to watch Tony care too much about code and people and everything else that peeked over the horizon to gaze raptly at tomorrow. But for now, he just bundles up the warmth pressed against his side.

“I do.”

Later, when the world is safe again and Tony’s plans to build the Avengers a home upstate come to astounding fruition, everyone gathers around a beautiful plaque mounted at the entrance to the data crux. Everyone in this case means the core team— Natasha, Tony, Rhodes, Thor. Bruce is still missing without contact; Clint is also not present, but he does manage to secure a line.

“Am I late?” he asks over the microphone. Clint's voice and image on the screen are scratchy. He’s certainly not connecting to the Avengers facility from his farmhouse, but damned if anyone can tell where he is either. "Am I…no? Oh good, didn’t wanna miss this. Who’s going first?”

Everyone automatically glances at Tony, and Steve helpfully tilts the Starkpad so Clint can too. Tony looks flustered, but Rhodes squeezes his arm and raises his eyebrows encouragingly.

“Ok,” Tony takes a breath and raises his glass of whiskey. “To JARVIS. Um. You did good, buddy; best of us all. And I’ll miss you…I—“ His voice quakes, and Rhodes’ comes right back to steady him.

“Hey, come on, we’ll miss him, too.” Colonel Rhodes raises his own glass. “To JARVIS, for saving my ass in Pakistan, Tokyo, oh, and that one arms dealer in Colombia. We captured him alive, but I’m pretty sure he died inside after J started roasting him.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Natasha confirms, and chooses her next statement with usual consideration. “We lost a teammate in this fight. I know that.”

There’s something immensely powerful in her handful of words, if Tony’s stunned quietude is any indication. Steve sneaks a quick glance at him before it’s his turn to talk. There is so much he still doesn’t know about Tony and JARVIS or the memories that bind them, but he doesn’t need a map of the brain to know love.

“It was an honor,” Steve says softly. “JARVIS jumped into this before all of us, kept the world safe from Ultron until we could figure out how to defeat him.”

“Aye,” Thor agrees. “Though he was a spirit of light and numbers, JARVIS fought hard and well from the digital realm. He shall have a seat of honor in Valhalla for eternity.”

“Yeah, man, to JARVIS and Valhalla,” Clint’s affirms over the speakers. “Bet that disembodied punk’s running the place by now.”

“Of course,” Tony retorts haughtily. “And you can bet he’s gonna figure out the real deal with that hammer, too."

Everyone's laughter echoes down the polished halls like a breath of fresh air, along with the chime of shot glasses meeting in front of the plaque before they all drink to Tony’s erstwhile copilot. There’s a palpable sense of closure to this one thing among a thousand other open questions and raw wounds; Steve feels it even after the team disperses and he’s left alone with Tony under another sunset.

Steve immediately picks up on a certain undercurrent of restlessness. He’s lingering; they’re both lingering, and it’s jarring against their shared instinct to do. Only Steve’s not sure he’s welcome to do anything about these newly risen slew of feelings for Tony. Now that they aren’t bowed under exhaustion or covered in darkness, surely, that certain ache, that ravenous need is back deep down where it belongs.

Or is it? Steve’s heart jumps to his throat when Tony sidles up into his space, and the familiar weight Tony’s slighter shoulder resting against his makes him want to weep all over again.

“That was good,” says Tony, falsely conversational. “Plaque was a nice touch."

“Oh, sure,” Steve replies unevenly, and falls right into the moment. “So, Jarvis. Was he someone you knew…?"

#stony #superhusbands #stony fic #tony stark #Steve Rogers #jarvis #avengers aou #my writing #bymani #love me

87 notes · View notes

kiraalexander · 7 years

Text

anyway i was sad so i wrote more.

bcs/young pope au part funf: this time there’s mike

Cardinal Voiello was very unhappy.

He had overplayed his hand with Ester, and now he’d lost control of Valente. He knew this, but couldn’t seem to find a way to get them back in hand. Now that the pope had revealed his knowledge of Voiello’s plan to have Esther embroil him in a scandal, Voiello had been forced to give his plan up entirely - and what was more, Valente reveled in it. When Voiello had cornered him this morning, demanding to know what the pope had been doing with the loud American lawyer on the roof of the Basilica last night, Valente had only replied, “talking, your eminence. The holy father enjoys talking with the American lawyer very much.” And then he’d smirked. Smirked. At him.

The humiliation only continued in his morning audience. After he dutifully fetched the pope his coffee, the pope made the American canonist, that Ms. Wexler, read out loud every single provision in the Code of Canon Law relevant to the ouster of a cardinal from both ecclesiastical office and from the curia. She read every line in her flat voice, then rounded it out with a recitation of Canons 331 through 335: the Roman Pontiff.

“The Roman Pontiff obtains full and supreme power in the Church by his acceptance of legitimate election…” she droned, all while Voiello ground his teeth. He wanted to snap that he hardly needed reminding about the basic tenets of the canon law, but wasn’t given the chance. As soon as Ms. Wexler’s voice faded, the pope had snapped, “you can go. Both of you.” So this was just the opening act, and Voiello was left to twist in the wind another day, wondering whether he’d be pulled back into the fold, or set adrift.

The only saving grace was that the other American lawyer - the loud one - had not been in attendance at this little show. When Voiello had caught up to Ms. Wexler’s long strides in the corridor, he’d put on the best mask of friendliness he could muster, and asked where her assistant had been, since he was always such a help to her.

“His holiness - asked that I come myself,” she said, her eyes downcast. And that was another blessing - her meeting with Sofia yesterday had completely unmoored her. And if Sofia did what she was told, he’d be rid of both American lawyers before the week was out, and replace them with proper canonists, ones who had a background in the priesthood. Yes, perhaps all this could be salvaged after all.

“And Father Amatucci - where is he?” Ms. Wexler asked.

“Ah, I fear he has come down with a stomach illness,” Voiello said. “It is very close quarters here, particularly with all the cardinals packed into the Casa Santa Marta for the election, and then awaiting his holiness’s address. Naturally we are all susceptible. I believe Don Tommaso is also ill - no confessions can be taken this morning, unfortunately.”

“I hope they both feel better,” Ms. Wexler said. “Excuse me.” And she stepped quickly away, her heels clacking on the polished floor. And as he watched her go, Voiello said a prayer, begging the Lord to let Sofia succeed where Ester had failed.

Perhaps, he thought, his failure was a matter of beauty. Sofia was very beautiful. He knew this because she told him so. They said that Ester was beautiful as well, but apparently not beautiful enough for the pope. They also said the pope was beautiful, although Voiello was sure he’d seen better days. Perhaps Kim Wexler was beautiful - Sofia certainly seemed much more eager to complete her assignment once she’d seen Ms. Wexler face to face.

Cardinal Voiello was not beautiful, and he knew it. He never had been beautiful. He’d always been squat and lumpish, easily winded and jowly, with squinting eyes and a turtle’s mouth. He’d always had that mole on his cheek, much more prominent when he’d been a child, and it had been like a target on his face for those who wanted to needle him about his doughy face and body. Perhaps all this was the hand of God, smoothing his path into the seminary - he’d never known how it felt to be wanted, and would never miss it. But it gave him a curious blind spot in that he could not understand what others considered beautiful. Certainly he felt that sunsets were beautiful, as was the ocean, and when Napoli scored against Roma. But as far as human beings were concerned, the sight of Sofia moved him no more than did the sight of Sister Bice. He’d told Sister Mary that she was beautiful twice, but she seemed to see through what he now realized were the forced repetitions of a bad liar. The only human thing he could think of that he considered beautiful was the plump cunt of the Venus of Willendorf, and that was made of stone.

He rested his hands on the swell of his belly, and turned to walk to his apartment. It was nearly time. He nodded to the Swiss Guard flanking the path, thinking vaguely of how fitting this was. He considered praying, but didn’t. He missed Amatucci’s quiet, reassuring presence, but it was probably better not to have his shadow behind him today.

He didn’t have much more time, that was certain. Perhaps the holy father could afford to dither, to cat-and-mouse him in order to drive him crazy, but Voiello could not afford to play. Now that Ester hadn’t worked, now that he could still feel the sole of that damned embroidered shoe on his shoulder, forcing his head down - he had to strike an even more decisive blow, and quickly, or else it would all get away from him.

Not my job. It isn’t the job I want to save. It’s the Church. The Church itself.

Why he had to keep reminding himself of that was something he tried not to think about too hard.

When he entered the apartment, he had to unlock the door, but he knew his guest would be there already. He knew, because he was seven minutes late, and his guest was always on time. The air in his apartment had a sense of being subtly displaced. He tried to breath in a steadying column of air, and arrange his face to look serene. He closed and carefully locked the door, then began his search to see where in the house his guest had settled. It didn’t take long - the clack of a billiard ball sounded before he took three steps in. Kind of him, Voiello thought, not to surprise him too badly. They were both getting on in years.

He stepped into the billiard room to find his guest standing behind the table, idly rolling one ball into another, and watching the doorframe.

“Michael,” Voiello said, “how good it is to see you after all this time.”

“It has been a long time, Eminence,” said Michael, “and I gotta say, this place hasn’t changed at all.”

“You’d be surprised,” said Voiello.

Once they were settled across the coffee table with espresso, Voiello was struck with sudden reluctance.

“I understand you have a grandchild now,” he said. “Please accept my warmest congratulations.”

“Yeah,” Michael said. “Five years old. Prettiest thing you ever saw.” He fished a photo out of his wallet that had gone limp at the corners. An unremarkable blond child smiled out from it, but Voiello made a show of admiration. “She’s just lovely. Your son must be so proud.”

“Yeah. He’s dead.”

“What?” Voiello said. Amatucci hadn’t told him this. He wondered how he could have missed it.

“About six months back,” Michael said.

“I’m so very sorry for your loss. If I’d known-”

Michael shrugged. Voiello had never known him to be one for displays of emotion. “It’s good to get away, Eminence,” he said, “but why don’t you tell me exactly why you sent for me.”

Voiello sighed and put down his demitasse cup. “I’m certain you are aware that we have a new pope,” he said.

“Yeah. I followed the conclave news. Pretty young for a pope.”

“That is just the trouble.”

Michael’s shoulders straightened with sudden interest. “You didn’t vote for him?”

“Oh no. I voted for him. But… I did not vote for what we received.”

“Hm,” Michael grunted. “Seems to me you get what you pay for.”

“In some circumstances, yes, that is the case,” said Voiello. “But in circumstances when one has been defrauded, isn’t it only fair to request a refund?”

Michael didn't say anything for a minute. “Why don’t you tell me what it is you want me to do.”

“I want you to resume your position as special firearms instruction for the Pontifical Swiss Guard,” Voiello said. “I’ve already received permission for you to take up the position - it’s been too long since the guard has had a truly intensive training.”

Michael was shaking his head. “Why me? I’m used up. There’s plenty of military trainers younger, sharper-”

“No,” Voiello said. “You were the best in 1981, when we first started automatic weapons training, and you’re the best still.”

Michael was silent, and stared into his cup.

“Michael,” Voiello said gently. “Does it still hurt you to be here? After all this time?”

“You know that old dreams die hard,” Michael said.

Voiello sighed, and in it was not a little genuine regret. “You were the only one who made me feel at home during my first year at the Vatican. I still wish that I could have done something for you.”

“No,” Michael said. “It wasn’t gonna happen. I was to old. And I’m not Swiss.”

“But you helped us to protect the pope,” Voiello said. “Isn’t that something great?”

“It sure is something.”

“And anyway, I never thought the uniform would have suited you.”

Michael cracked a smile at this. “And i never thought the clown suits they make you cardinals wear ever suited you. But now look at you - you’re a real politician.”

“And you are-”

“An old soldier, an ex cop. Put out to pasture.”

“No,” Voiello said, and reached across the coffee table to take Michael’s hand. “On active duty.”

Michael stared hard at Voiello, but didn’t remove his hand. “I think you had better tell me just exactly what you want me to do, right now. If it’s not out of your mouth in the next sentence, I’m out the door.”

Voiello’s heart stopped at the words. He couldn’t know, he told himself, he couldn’t know that it’s how his holiness spoke to me. He almost called the entire thing off right there, but then it came again - the weight of that shoe on his shoulder, and he hardened his heart, and steeled his jaw.

“I want - I need you to assassinate the pope.”

Michael took back his hand and sat back on the sofa. “No,” he said.

Voiello shook his head. “If I could express to you how important-”

“Not until I understand why,” Michael said, and Voiello let out a harsh, relieved breath.

“You must understand,” Voiello said, “we elected him because we thought he would be a compromise between the liberal and conservative factions within the curia. But he’s revealed himself to be so reactionary - he’s threatened to remove two-thirds of the clergy for homosexual attraction. Attraction! Not action! It goes against thousands of years of doctrine. He wants to shut out the people, take us back into the dark ages, when priests jealously kept all knowledge, language, doctrine, out of the reach of the common man. Do you understand what that means? He wants a monopoly on God. I know you remember how it felt, to be denied a position in the Swiss Guard, even though you are the best marksman who’s ever entered the Vatican? Just because of the arbitrary fact that you are not Swiss? He wants to do that but on a worldwide scale - and not just for the Guard, but for heaven itself.” Voiello pointed one stubby forefinger skyward. “I thought that you of all people could understand why this cannot go on.”

“Voiello,” Michael said, “you’re asking me to kill a man.”

“No,” Voiello said. “The Church is a body. If a body becomes cancerous, do we allow that cancer to kill the body? Or do we cut out the cancer? Even if it is living tissue, part of that body?”

Michael shook his head again, but slower this time. A little more, Voiello thought, a little more, and he’ll say yes.

“I don’t know,” he said.

“Michael,” Voiello said, “after all this time - don’t you trust me?”

Michael took a loud breath in, out, in, out. He drained his cup, letting the dregs of the espresso settle in a grainy stew at the bottom. “If I’m going to kill a man,” he said, “I need to look him in the face first. It isn’t that I don’t trust you,” he said, interrupting what would have been Voiello’s indignant protest, “but I have to decide for myself. Give me an audience - then I’ll decide.”

“Michael we don’t have time-”

“We?” said Michael, looking out from under a brush of brow. “Is it we who don’t have time? Or just you?”

Voiello stared back, and considered saying that no, it wasn’t just him, it was the Church herself.

“I’ll get you an audience,” he said.

“Good.” Michael stood. “In that case, I’d better go find my quarters. Thanks for the coffee.”

Voiello walked Michael to the front door, and held it open for him. He stepped out, then turned back to Voiello.

“Do you know how my son died?” he asked.

“I’m afraid I don’t,” Voiello said. “As I said, if I had known-”

“He was shot,” said Michael.

Voiello was suddenly overwhelmed with the memory of standing before Michael and his wife, both of them beaming, the tiny child in her arms. Voiello had been the one to baptize him. It could have been Wojtyla, they could have insisted - but Michael had asked for him instead. He remembered anointing the child and thinking of how tiny he was, how pink, how helpless. “Shot,” he repeated.

“Assassinated,” said Michael, and he left.

Voiello was in a rotten mood for the rest of the afternoon, and when the pope called him in for yet another audience, it was all he could do to catch every other word he said.

When they were finished, his holiness asked after Amatucci. “I understand that he’s ill,” he said. “Isn’t that too bad? I’m always seeing him in the garden, in the Apostolic Palace - just wherever I go, somehow, there he is. I missed him very much today. Please, won’t you tell him to get well from me?”

“I’m sure he would appreciate that very much, holy father,” said Voiello.

“And Tommaso, sick as well,” said the pope. “It’s really just too bad. You know, I think I might be coming down with it myself?”

“Oh, no, holy father,” said Voiello, and he was at least halfway to being genuinely concerned. “You are nauseated? Vomiting?”

“Mm,” said his holiness, “no.”

“Then - a headache, or trembling?”

“No,” said his holiness. “Is that what Amatucci is complaining of?”

“Yes, I’m afraid so - the doctor says he must stay in bed for at least another few days.”

“I see,” said the pope, putting an undue emphasis on the words, in Voiello’s opinion. “Maybe I’m not coming down with what he has after all. In fact, I’m just having trouble sleeping. Can’t you tell?”

He pointed to his eyes, which looked normal to Voiello.

“No, holy father, I’m happy to say that you look perfectly healthy to me.”

“Oh, that’s good - because my eyes feel so dry. Excuse me,” he said. And he took a small bottle of Visine from his pockets, making an exaggerated face as he let a drop splash first into one eye, then the other.

“Ah,” he said, “that is so much better.” And he carefully placed the nearly empty bottle in the middle of the desk.

Voiello stared at the bottle, and thought back. Tremors. Nausea. Vomiting. A racing heart, dilated pupils. And how to make someone just sick enough to be confined to his bed, but not to kill him - yet.

“I’m so happy to hear it, holy father,” he said carefully. “And I think you will find that you won’t see Amatucci quite so often in the future. He must be getting to his own duties once he gets well.”

“That is so good to hear,” said his holiness. “Good bye, Voiello.”

Voiello went straight to Valente, and begged him to allow the new automatic weapons trainer for the Pontifical Swiss Guard to have an audience with his holiness as soon as it could be arranged.

But there was still one thought that nagged him, all on his way back to discuss this problem with Girolamo. Why was it that Father Tomasso, who had to his knowledge never done the pope any harm, gotten ill as well?

He didn’t know, and not knowing made him unhappier still.

#bcs #lil' pope #better call st. paul #mike ehrmantraut #cardinal voiello #lenny belardo #this sudden spurt of writing productivity would be great if i could get to any one of the other projects i ought to be working on #and yet here we are #he poisons for unencumbered rooftop handjobs

6 notes · View notes

marauderingbad-blog · 7 years

Text

Yer a Werewolf, Remus

PART 1/3

Read the Full Story on ArchiveOfOurOwn http://archiveofourown.org/works/11614782

James wasn’t a stalker--at least not in his own imagining of what a stalker was--but he had certainly developed some pretty grade-A stalker strategies in the past few months. For instance, James had a secret calendar that he only worked on with Sirius and Peter (or, really, that he worked on with Peter by association only, since Peter rarely helped--he was kind of just there). What were the contents of this secret calendar, you ask? Oh, only the whereabouts of their other best friend, Remus Lupin.

So, okay, that sounded like some serious stalking, but James was convinced it was for a good cause. None of them quite bought Remus’ inconsistent excuses for where he disappeared to so often, so they took figuring out what was wrong into their own hands. They’d been tracking his absences from school, looking for a pattern.

James had the calendar spread out before the three of them on the dormitory floor. He chewed on the tip of his quill, observing the days of the month associated with the absences. Remus definitely disappeared around the same time each month...then another marking on the calendar jumped out at James, a little circle.

“Hey, guys…” he began hesitantly, pointing his index finger at the moon symbol. “Does it seem like...like Remus is always gone at the full moon?” James asked, looking up suddenly.

Sirius had been momentarily distracted from their task at hand by the leaping toadstool he had nicked from herbology class. And how amusing it was to hear Peter squeal when he plugged it into his nose.

“Erm..” he responded distantly without removing his eyes from the pitiful leaping mushroom that was now bouncing from Peter’s scalp to his nose. Despite his lack of full attention, the information soon came to settle somewhere in his brain.

“Hang on..” he said, this time with investment as he looked up at James. “We did realize that he was disappearing monthly, right? Do the dates line up with the full moon?” He asked as he scrambled through earlier versions of the chart, going back into the spring of last year, which had been their first year at Hogwarts.

Peter frantically tried to extrecate the toadstool from his nose, “Sirius!” he whined. James chewed on his lip, paying Peter and Sirius’ antics no mind for the moment. He looked for the little moon marking on the pages as Sirius flipped through them. The calendar sheets had just come printed with the marking, James hadn’t really thought anything of it...until now.

“Yeah…” James confirmed, his voice hesitant, contemplative. “The dates all seem to be during and around the full moon.”

“The night of and day after, to be exact…” Sirius said quietly as he surveyed the chart, his eyes scalding with alacrity. He looked up at James with an astonished, thrilled gaze. This was the most significant breakthrough they had reached to date. He sat up from his relaxed pose on the floor to a more alert position with his legs crossed.

“What sicknesses relate to the lunar cycle?” Sirius asked breathlessly as he pulled over their tome on magical diseases and maladies. “What are Remus’ symptoms?” he asked, grabbing his quill and beginning to make a list on a stray piece of parchment, saying them aloud as they revealed themselves in his mind. “Exhaustion...weakness… malaise. Those are post-full moon..” His handwriting was nearly illegible but James and Sirius didn’t need the script to remember.

“I don’t see what any of this would have to do with the full moon,” Peter said dismissively.

James, meanwhile, remained quiet, nodding as Sirius spoke. “That sounds right,” he said, flipping through another one of the wizarding medical texts they’d taken out of the library. James looked up “moon” in the glossary, trailing his finger along an unfamiliar word--it instructed him to turn to the entry for lycanthropy. On a whim, James chose to turn to this term over all the others that were listed under “moon.”

“Oh…” James uttered aloud as he read the description--lycanthropy was simply the technical term for the condition of, well...being a werewolf. He resumed biting down into his lip, glancing up at Sirius. Was it insane to even mention it? He cleared his throat.

“This, ah, this says a condition related to the moon is...being a werewolf,” he said. “I mean, duh,” James added as if to lighten the mood. “Let’s just see--let’s see what it says happens to people afterwards. You’d think they’d be all...strong and aggressive, right?” he reasoned, and then didn’t fit Remus at all. “Following the full moon,” James read aloud. “Werewolves often experience exhaustion, malaise, illness, muscle pain, and general weakness and aches of the body.” he trailed off, looking up again at Sirius.

At first, Sirius snorted with disbelief, then grinned. “Remus? A strong, aggressive werewolf?” he sniggered incredulously at the image. “That’s almost as fucked as Peter being a Gryffindor.” he scoffed but his grin vanished the moment James began to read off the exact symptoms he had scribbled down.

“That...I mean--those symptoms could be common for loads of…” Sirius attempted to justify the coincidences, but for once, words failed him. “Erm…I guess I dunno..” He said blankly as he swallowed hard, his expression becoming somber.

But he did know. The similarities of symptoms and timing of Remus’ disappearances had too many uncanny similarities to lycanthrophy to be coincidence, and even as Sirius tried to dismiss the suggestion something inside him had completed the puzzle. He just didn’t want to see it. If they were right, which they must be, then every month Remus would transform into a killing monster, at least, that’s what he had been told about werewolves. And for how long had this been happening to him? Surely, the boys had recognized that Remus was suffering and that it must be something terrible if he would lie to his best friends to keep it a secret, but this is a completely different inconceivable level.

Sirius suddenly felt overwhelmingly sad. He met James’ gaze, knowing by his expression that he was experiencing similar thoughts.

James held Sirius’ gaze for a moment, then looked away, ruffling his hair, both in contemplation and in a somewhat anxious way. It made sense--the absences, how sick and frail he looked when he came back, the secretiveness. James’ mind played through every stereotype, every prejudice of what a werewolf was that he’d heard growing up--he’d always taken it for granted that they were monsters, since that’s what every story portrayed them as, whether fictional or real accounts from The Prophet, and it was how everyone talked about them.

Nonetheless, James had to let go of these conceptions, because he couldn’t reconcile them with what he knew of Remus. He’d never really considered that a werewolf was a normal person for most of the month--or that they weren’t just scary grown-ups like Fenrir Greyback, but potentially kids like Remus.

Taking a breath, James broke the silence. “Well, when all’s said and done, Remus is probably the least monster-like of all of us, so I suppose all that stuff everyone says about werewolves is just rubbish,” James concluded.

“Wait, I still don’t get it,” Peter said. “What are you lot talking about werewolves for?”

Sirius listened to James and nodded his head eagerly. “Definitely.” he agreed with resolution. They knew Remus all too well to think otherwise.

His thoughtfulness ceased abruptly when Peter opened his mouth. “For fuck’s sake…” he groaned. “You really are a daft cow. Do I need to spell it out for you? With illustrations in case the words are too big for you?” Sirius spat impatiently.

“Remus is a werewolf, you dim git.”

He turned back to James with his composure returning. “And we have to help him. Right?”

Peter’s eyes looked as if they were about to bulge out of his head. “A werewolf, but they’re…”

James held his hand up, effectively cutting Peter off. “Don’t finish whatever was about to come after that but. We all know what werewolves are supposed to be, and we also all know who Remus is,” he resolved, not wanting to entertain even a moment of negativity against Remus. James fixed his eyes intently on Sirius and nodded. “Of course,” he said determinedly, then leaned back onto his elbows, surveying the books they’d already taken out. He sighed, “I think we’re going to need some different books.”

~~*~~

James was lounging on his bed in the middle of one of their research powwows several weeks later, reading a book he’d nicked from the forbidden section of the library. He was munching on chocolate frogs as he did, carelessly getting his chocolate covered fingers all over this priceless text that probably dated to the Middle Ages or something. He suspected this might be the very reason why some of these books were forbidden in the first place--they weren’t all about dark magic, so it was probably more that the school didn’t want twelve year olds like James messing them up. But it was a necessary sacrifice--the chocolate got James’ brain working.

“Wait, so, animals can’t be turned into werewolves, even if they get bit by one?” he asked, looking over at Sirius, not even really bothering to address Peter. James was never totally sure what Peter did during these “study” sessions, but he never contributed anything worthwhile.

“So...Could I turn into a Werewolf by eating Remus’ food?” Peter asked once again from his bed as he continued to stuff Remus’ peppermint toads into his unhinged mouth.

Sirius had lost count of how many times Peter had asked them that. Considering how close they were to developing a plan to help Remus, he was currently in the midst of one of his frustrated states--And when Sirius was frustrated, someone had to suffer. This time (well, most of the time, really) it was Peter. Sirius was now lying with his back to the floor with an absurdly large and boring book levitated just above his face. As he finished scanning each section, the page would automatically turn itself.

“I swear on Merlin’s beard,” Sirius growled slowly. “if you ever ask me that ever again I will stuff those toads so far up your arsehole that you’ll have to chew them and swallow them back down. If you’re not going to help us then at least shut your bloody face before I enchant the hairs on your head to lace your mouth permanently shut.” Sirius snarled.

James rolled his eyes and quietly marveled at what it must be like to want peppermint toads so badly you’d be willing to risk becoming a werewolf; not that you could become a werewolf by sharing food with one, obviously, but still. Peter’s uncertainty implied he’d been willing to take the risk.

Peter hid behind his bed curtains, whimpering softly. He hesitantly glanced out at Sirius, who returned his look with a fiery glare.

Sirius was mid-glare when he remembered that James had spoken to him--immediately his expression relaxed. He sat up onto his forearms and looked thoughtfully into something James and Peter could not see for a moment.

“Erm, I dunno but...” He considered this concept, continuing to mentally search. “I mean--if you think about it, loads of animals have to coexist with werewolves. I’ve never heard of a were-beaver or some shite.” he sniggered. “It must only infect humans.”

James chewed thoughtfully on his lip. “And if animals can’t get it...there are ways for wizards to turn into animals, right? Like McGonagall!” James jumped up into a sitting position in excitement. “Remember when she transformed from the cat on the first day of class?” he asked excitedly. “What was that called again? We could do that! Then we could at least keep him company!”

“ANIMAGI,” Sirius burst out, his eyes wide with thrill as their eureka moment came to manifest. “THAT’S IT. We could become animagi!” He stood up, his heart pounding and began to pace the room in thought. “Not many people have done it but it’s obviously possible. And wizards certainly must have done it without having to register.. And then We could stay with Remus the entire time and he couldn’t possibly say no since as animals he won’t be able to infect us. You and I can figure it out, James. Let’s fucking do it.” He finished with a grin.

“B..b..but.. wait...We’re not registered..” Peter squeaked. “Dumbledore wouldn’t let us register….”

Sirius rolled his eyes and scoffed. “We’re not going to register--As I just strongly implied, you dundering sloth. And Dumbledore’s not going to know. No one’s going to know..and no one’s going to tell.” He finished, eyeing Peter. “McGonagall must have books on it in her private collection..something to point us in the right direction.. One of us could schedule a meeting with her and distract her and the others could just take a look..”

“James..” Peter said in a pleading voice (realizing he was his only chance) as he sat on the end of James’ bed (making it sink on the side he was sitting on). “T..this is a bad idea.. We could get expelled, James.. We could go to Azkaban! This is illegal! I don’t think…..Sirius is just being….--”

Sirius snorted and interrupted him. “--We’ll put it to a vote then. Naturally, Peter chickens out. A true Gryffindor through and through. James, what do you say, mate?” he asked eagerly.

James beamed at Sirius, boldened by the encouragement and confirmation that this could work, they could do it. He turned to Peter as he spoke, his grin diminishing slightly, but only into a wry sort of smirk. “Peter,” he said as if reasoning with a petulant child. “We’re not going to register and we are certainly not going to tell Dumbledore anything,” he said, nodding in agreement with Sirius. James’ expression turned grave as Sirius insisted no one told, his eyes focused steadily on Peter in that moment, unblinking.

“Do you think it’d work if we told her another class assigned us an essay on our favorite professor? We could interview her on being an animagus, how she did it. Maybe she’ll mention a few books and we can find them,” he suggested, then bit his lip, his thoughts growing ever bolder. “Or…” he trailed off for dramatic effect. “She may still have something in her office, and we do have an invisibility cloak,” James pointed out.

Peter’s only chance proved to be not much of a chance at all. James’ mind was utterly made up. “We won’t get expelled and no one is going to Azkaban,” he said dismissively. “Merlin’s beard, Pete, they don’t send kids to Azkaban. If we get caught--which we won’t--we plead ignorance. Say we forgot you had to register,” he shrugged, leaning back into his pillow. “Knowing Dumbledore, he’ll be impressed.”

“I’m in,” James said swiftly. “I’m all in.”

Sirius’ smirk curled and the fire in his grey eyes flickered.

To Be Continued

#Harry Potter #harry potter fanfiction #marauders #marauders era #marauders fanfiction #mwpp #mwpp era #james potter #sirius black #remus lupin #peter pettigrew #werewolf #werewolves #fanfiction #hp fanfiction #harry potter fandom #hp fandom #harry potter fanfic rec

0 notes