#the fact he’s looking at Dream of all people with that crazed look?? yes sir

[signanothername]

There’s something that’s just so beautifully haunting about that one Dreamtale panel

God i love this panel so fucking much

[nooneelsecomesclose17]

Ring out the old, bring in the new

Day 30

This is a follow up to 'I'm dreaming of a white christmas' and it's fluffy to the point of soppy but I hope you like it.

The title and lyrics are from 'The Perfect Year' by Dina Carroll which I've always loved and they seemed to fit. So, enjoy

BTW tomorrow's fic will be posted a little later on account of it not being finished yet, but I'm definitely posting at least part of it before the end of the month!!

(AO3 link)

“You’re not serious.” Aaron says when Robert tells him his idea. It’s boxing day and he’s about to take the kids up to the farm so Cain and Moira can babysit and give them a few hours of peace, and Seb had been crazing them all day wanting to see Isaac and all his new toys. “You want to renew our vows on new years eve? As in five days from now.”

“Yeah. It’s tons of time to get everything sorted.” Aaron raised an eyebrow, looking at the state of the flat, still a mess from the chaos of the day before.

“Everything? We said something small, just our friends and family.”

“Well I thought we could combine it with a new year party, makes sense doesn’t it?”

“You can’t organise something like that in that short a time!” He looks up from where he’s wrestling Ana into her coat at Robert’s scoff. “What?”

“I organised our first wedding in under twenty four hours. I can do this. A new year, a new start?” Aaron knew that voice, he’d learnt not to argue with it so he just nodded, even though he didn’t think they needed a new start, they’d done alright the past few years. “Right, when you’ve dropped them off, come back and we’ll sort a guest list and that. I’ll call Mum, she can help.”

“Yes sir, no sir, three bags full sir.” Aaron mumbled as he herded the kids out of the door. Even after two weddings and nearly ten years he still forgot how Robert could be when he got an idea in his head.

Ring out the old Bring in the new A midnight wish to share with you

It’s two days before the vow renewal and he’s ready to tear his hair out. Robert’s promise of something small

“Robert, how many people have you invited.” He asks as his husband and his mother come in the door laden down with bags bulging with food.

“Just the essentials, your lot, Gran if she’s feeling up to it, Liam, Leyla, Priya and I think Mack and Charity…Billy and Ellis said they’d pop by. Um…”

“So basically everyone in the village except Mum and Paddy?”

“Er, yeah. Oh, Cain said he’d make sure Eve was here too, at least for part of it.” Aaron smiled at that, he’d wanted to ask his Mum about having her over but she barely spoke to him these days and he really couldn’t face another argument with her.

“Thank you.” He kisses him as he passes by. “The only thing left is to decide who is doing the ceremony then. Or do you just want to say the vows and stuff ourselves.”

“Um, I thought about asking Charles. If that’s alright with you.”

“Course it is. We can ask him tonight at the pub.”

“Daddy.” Seb pipes up. “If you’re getting married, you need a best man.”

“Oh we do, do we?” Robert crouches down to him. “And who told you that?”

“Ganma.” Robert looked over at his Mum who shrugs.

“Well Ganma should know that it’s a vow renewal not a wedding.” He wants to kick himself when his son’s face drops and Aaron swoops to the rescue as he tries to come up with the right words.

“Daddy’s right, but you know what? The best thing about a vow renewal is that unlike a wedding there’s no rules, so if we want to have a best man then we can.” He looks over at Robert, having one of their silent conversations before turning back to him. “In fact, I was going to ask you to be mine.”

“Really?” Aaron nods and Seb runs off cheering as he goes. “Ganma! Did you hear?”

“I heard peanut. You’ll be brilliant. What about you Robert?”

“Maybe Ana can be yours?” Aaron suggests, getting caught up in it all.

“But then Sara’s left out.” He looks at their youngest who is rolling about with her cuddly bunny, chattering away in her own little language.

“I thought she could walk in front of us with your Mum, with Eve, maybe with flowers or something, you know how she likes to make mess.”

“Getting well into this all of a sudden aren’t we?”

“Yeah well…they’ll enjoy it won’t they.” He shrugs. In truth it was the contented look on Robert’s face that he was enjoying.

“You’d better stay with me, Robert.” Sarah pipes up. “The night before.”

“Er, why?”

“Because it’s bad luck not to.”

“We didn’t bother with that before.” He tells her and she and Aaron share a look.

“Your Mum’s right…look what happened before…best not chance it a third time.” He’s smiling so Robert knows he’s kidding.

“But…No, this is wrong, you’re ganging up on me!”

“You’re the one who wanted this all done ‘proper’.” Aaron can’t hold in his laughter and then Robert starts tickling him, which ends up as a family affair with the kids join in until Aaron pleads with them to stop.

It's New Year's Eve, and hopes are high Dance one year in, kiss one goodbye

“You ready?” His Mum asks, straightening his tie.

“Of course he is lass.” His gran pipes up from her chair. He was so pleased she’d made it over again and he’d proudly shown her around the cafe the day before, showing off a little, enjoying the pleased smile on her face.

“You don’t think it’s a bit silly do you?” He asks, nerves hitting him all of a sudden. “Three weddings…it’s not a bit…”

“I think it’s wonderful love. You and Aaron have been through so much, I don’t see why you shouldn’t celebrate the fact that despite everything you’re still together.” She straightens his tie again, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “I’m very proud of you.”

“Thanks Mum. We should get going.” He needs to or he’s going to cry and he doesn’t want that, not today.

They walk into the village, meeting Aaron and the kids on the path to the village hall. Cain’s with him and Robert can see Eve. Thank goodness Chas hadn’t put up a fight or he might have had to go round there and get the little girl herself.

“Hi.” Aaron’s eyes are soft as he looks at him, but Seb tugging on his arm stops his reply.

“Are we ready Daddy?”

“Yes mate.” He holds out a hand to Aaron as Cain helps Annie to her seat at the front, and Robert watches to make sure he wraps the blanket they’d bought around her. It wasn’t that cold for them, but he didn’t want her to get chilly, she wasn’t used to the English weather anymore. He bursts out laughing as she bats Cain’s hand away. “Oh I wish I had a camera.”

“You’re horrible.”

“That’s why you love me.”

Another chance, another start So many dreams to tease the heart

Unlike their wedding, there’s no readings, or sisters glaring at them, just Charles speaking about fresh starts and second chances, and how he’d come to know them well and had never seen any couple so in love. Aaron’s hand finds his then and he stares at him, wondering just how he got to be so lucky. Then it’s time for their vows.

“At our last wedding, I said that I was lucky to get a second chance. Never could I have believed that I’d need a third. You love me, even when I don’t deserve it. When I push you away, you’re always there. You’re a brilliant Dad to our three children, and I don’t know where I would be without you and I never want to find out. You’re still the bravest, kindest man I know, and I love you more every day.” Aaron’s got tears in his eyes and he smiles at him as he takes his turn.

“I’ve never been very good at this part and it always feels like what I say is not enough. I once said that I love you so much that I don’t know what to do with it, and that’s never changed. Not for a single second. You can be the most infuriating man, but I still love you because everything you do, you do for me, for our children and I promise that you’ll never have to be without be. You deserve every bit of love that we have for you, don’t ever forget that.” This time it’s him that’s crying and laughing and he feels a little light headed as he leans in to kiss Aaron, hearing the usual giggles from the kids, and from Eve.

“Well, I don’t think I need to add anything except to wish you both a long and happy life together.” Charles announces and then they’re walking down the steps to their family.

“Oh love, that was just wonderful.” His Mum is crying over him and he looks to Aaron for help. He just smiles and shakes his head as the kids are all over him. It’s perfect, just as he wanted it.

Your lips are warm, my head is light Were we in love before tonight?

“Alright?” Robert asks, stepping out of the back door, the noise fading away as he shuts the door. Aaron’s sitting on the steps, beer in hand but Robert can’t read the expression on his face. The party at the house has been going a few hours and everyone is more than a little merry. Thankfully the kids had happily gone up to his Mum’s flat with Sarah and Noah and were hopefully fast asleep.

“Yeah, course. Just needed a minute. Pretty loud in there.” He’d bailed when Sam had started dancing with a pint held to his head Robert automatically looked back inside, wincing when he thought about the state of the place. He’d worry about that tomorrow. “It’s been a brilliant day. I know I joked about it, but it really has.”

“I told you I could do it.”

“Yes you did. Not that I didn’t love both of our other ones, but I think this one might be my favourite…you know?” He nods, of course he did, there was no sadness anymore, no prison on the horizon, no grief to get through, just happiness and a life ahead.

“I know. I love you, you know.”

“Love you too.” He leans over to kiss him.

“Come with me.” He held out a hand to Aaron getting to his feet.

“Where, it’s nearly midnight.”

“I know. No one will miss us.” He shakes his head but follows him anyway, into the village.

No need to hear the music play Your eyes say all there is to say The stars can fade And they can shine Long as your face is next to mine

Robert doesn't say anything but a smile crosses Aaron's face when they reach the gazebo next to the village hall, still decorated from earlier in the day. He fumbles a little but eventually gets the lights switched back on and Aaron’s looking up in wonder. “That’s better.”

“What are we doing back here?”

“Wanted to see the new year in somewhere quiet, just us.”

“And the garden wouldn’t do?”

“No. This place…I’ve never been as happy as I was that day you know.”

“Me too. Today’s a pretty close second, sharing everything with our kids. Last time though, eh?” He smiled.

“Mmm, yeah, no more weddings.” He takes hold of Aaron’s hands, tugging him down the steps into the open. “Dance with me.”

“I don’t dance.”

“No one can see. It’s just us. For me…Call it a late Christmas present.”

“There’s no music.” He complained, feeling self conscious even though they were all alone.

“We don’t need it. Come on, as it’s our last wedding.”

“It better be!”

Neither of them noticed the time ticking over to midnight, or the fireworks going off in the distance as they swayed from side to side, just the two of them.

We don't need a crowded ballroom Everything I need is here, if you're with me Next year will be the perfect year

[blueskiesandstarrynights]

Willex TGWDLM scene

So this is for @oh-were-califormia who came up with a genius idea for a willex TGWDLM au, and I decided to try my hand at one scene. Yes, I will in fact bend over backwards to include the Hotdog nickname, and yeah maybe I did make Nick HCB, what of it? I have no idea why I did it, but  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Word count: 1082

Okay.

Okay, okay, okay, okay.

Okay, okay

Okay.

This isn’t happening.

This isn’t real.

Alex tries to repeat this to himself now that he is a safe few blocks from the CCRP building, now pacing in a nervous circle thinking about what just happened.

Or what didn’t happen. 

Because this isn’t happening, this isn’t real, how could this be real?

He’s dreaming, or hallucinating or something. There’s no way Mr. Davidson actually started singing about how he wanted to-

Nope, gonna cut himself off right there, definitely don’t want to be thinking about that.

Okay, okay, this is a dream.

He needs to wake up.

He needs some coffee.

Yeah, that’s it, just a cup of boring, black, strong coffee to wake him up.

With a plan in motion, Alex sets off to Beanies, and tries to think about the weird things that had happened that day.

Flash mob wasn’t a bad idea, like Luke had suggested earlier, but the lack of backing music was unnerving to him, and whatever happened with Mr. Davidson was definitely not a flash mob. 

When he rounded the corner to the street Beanies lay on, he picked up his pace to a sprint, burst through the door, slammed his hand on the counter and yelled, “HELLO? HELLO?? PLEASE GOD I JUST WANT A BLACK COFFEE!!” 

Alex is fully ready to admit that this is not his proudest moment. Between the running and the yelling, and the slamming the counter, he probably looked like a crazed idiot.

Unfortunately, the barista that comes out from behind the counter is singing.

~~~

Willie was not having a good day. For a number of reasons. The screaming customer who just walked in was in no way helping his mood. But, he really should get out there before Fuego starts yelling at him again. He grabs the coffee pot, turns on his customer service face, and starts singing. 

“Black coffee, I’m your coffee-”

“NOOOO! No, not you too Willie please, god, stop singing!”

The barista paused his singing and shot the screaming customer a confused look before recognizing who it was screaming and started smiling. It was Alex, the cute businessman who was a frequent customer, but had only gotten his name yesterday, having frequently only called him Hotdog in his head for weeks now.

A few weeks ago, at their slowest hour, when the only one’s there were himself and some blond kid who drank way too many hot chocolates, a cute businessman had walked in, went straight for the counter, and, through gritted teeth, ordered, “three hotdogs, and a veggie burger.”

Needless to say, he was a little shocked by the request, and had opened and closed his mouth in confusion a couple times before answering, “I’m sorry sir, this is a coffee shop, we don’t sell that here.”

Once again through gritted teeth, the businessman said, “Oh, sorry, I thought you sold things like that here.” and then left. 

Willie ended up spending the next few minutes standing there staring blankly at the wall trying to figure out what just happened. 

The next day, the same businessman was back. He apologized for what happened the day before, explaining he had lost a bet and his friends had told him to go in and say that, and how they were very serious about bets and deals. He apologized once more before a brief bit of awkward silence followed by an even more awkward exit, and from that day, Willie had been calling the strange blond businessman, Hotdog. 

Back in the present, Willie noticed Alex’s urgency and said, “Ok, ok alright I’ll stop singing. Oh, I didn’t forget, you’re the guy who doesn’t like musicals, Alex right?”

Alex gave a short nod before saying, “Willie, you’re talking to me. Like a normal person.”

Willie rolled his eyes, unsure what to do about the kind of crazed look and on edge vibe he got from Alex. “Yeah, and if my boss catches me I’ll get canned. New company policy, not only do we have to sing when people tip, but when they enter, when they order, all the time apparently!”

Alex, still on edge, spits out, “Willie, I think there’s something horribly wrong with the world today.”

Willie gave a short, sarcastic laugh before starting on Alex’s coffee and saying, “Yeah, tell me about it. Dante and Fuego called me in at like 5 am to learn this horrible new tip song, I’m exhausted. I’m just hoping to make it to the end of my shift at 1 and then just sleep for the rest of the day. Also, I don’t know if this is more weird or annoying, but when they weren’t practicing the song, they were talking in perfect sync. I’d probably be more unnerved if I wasn’t half asleep right now. Honestly, I would’ve left this job months ago if I didn’t need the money for community college.”

As Willie finished the coffee and went to hand it to Alex, the latter grabbed his hand and pulled him from behind the counter and across the coffeeshop, before gripping his shoulders and saying, “Ok, Willie, I feel like there’s something sinister, infecting Hatchetfield. And I know this is going to sound crazy. And not very scary. But it is scary if you think about the implications. Promise me you’ll think about the implications.” With each word he said, Alex got more and more desperate, and Willie got more and more worried.

“Ok, ok, I promise.”

“Ok, Willie, I think the world is becoming… a musical.”

Oh no. That did it. We’re officially in crazy territory, and Willie was ready to head back to the counter, which is something he never thought he’d say.

“Um-” he starts, trying to find an excuse to get back.

“Don’t say anything!” Alex interrupted. “Let it sink in.”

“Ok.”

“Now,” Alex grips Willie’s shoulders. “Are you frightened??”

Oh he’s certainly frightened now. Alex has gone straight into deranged territory, unfortunately. It figures really. The first cute guy he’s met since Guatemala is certifiably crazy. And he just got his name, too. 

“Yeah, I think I am starting to get a little frightened.”

 “You should be, you should be.”

At that moment, the tip bell rang, and Dante and Fuego stepped out and called in unison, “Willie! Tip!”

Ah. Save by the bell. Thank god. 

“Oh. Alex, I gotta do this dumb tip song, sorry!” 

So, he hurried off, not knowing just how right Alex is.

[meowmerson]

Can you write a Tomione doctor AU? I’ve always thought it would be really cute if they were surgeons.

perhaps…………………a nurse/patient AU????????????? :)

(only because i was trying to think of a story for doctor tomione but my brain kept going back to this so i hope its ok, if it s not you can send me another ask DEMANDING A SURGEON AU and i promise i will brainstorm an idea)

(also uh im sorry i made it really long)

–

It’s the tail end of the night shift when she sees him, although the first time is fleeting. Fleeting, but not irrelevant. 

He’s flanked by six guards from the prison. He looks like he’s in pain, and quite a lot of it. He’s wheeled in on a hospital bed to room 119 and she watches from the reception desk as he and his entourage of prison guards pass her by in almost slow motion. 

“What timing,” Lavender said with a cheeky grin, “Your shift just ended. You’ll miss out on all the fun.”

“Your idea of fun,” Hermione corrected, completing her chart for the night, “My idea of fun involves going home, having breakfast with my daughter, taking her to school, and going to sleep,” She put her pen down and smiled in the face of Lavender’s pout, “But enjoy the day shift with the clearly dangerous criminal.”

“Tell Rose I said hi,” Lavender said. 

Hermione went home and did exactly as she said she would. She paid the babysitter, laid down in Rose’s bed for a moment before gently waking her. She smiled at her 3-year-old daughter across bowls of cheerios and listened to her talk about what she dreamt about the night before. Then she dressed Rose, brought her to pre-school, kissed her goodbye, and returned home. She fell asleep in her scrubs, and didn’t dream about the man flanked by prison guards. 

–

Hermione worked nights for a few reasons. The biggest one was the amount of time she got to spend with her daughter - she could always skimp on sleep to spend more time with Rose, but she couldn’t exactly skip work, and if she only worked while Rose was sleeping (save for a few precious hours at night) it meant she would never need to miss a school play, a birthday party, pancakes on sundays, or pillow forts in their living room. She could see all of that. 

Nights were quieter too. No visitors, some patients slept but some didn’t, Lavender only worked day shifts so Hermione only ever saw her for an hour at most if their shifts overlapped which was about as much of Lavender as she could take. And no visitors, god Hermione hated visitors. 

She worked 3 nights a week, sometimes 4 if she needed the money and they had an overtime shift for her. She was always tired, always a bit stressed, and her hair had never looked worse than it did in motherhood, but it was all worth it for the time she got to spend with her daughter. 

She had to remember that, when she had nights like this one. 

“Apparently he hasn’t urinated in a week,” Neville said, “He had a pretty severe blatter infection and sepsis but is steadily getting better,”

“Why hadn’t he urinated?” Hermione asked, and Neville shrugged. 

“They think it might be an escape plan, so uh,” he none-too-subtly leaned to the side to peer at the guards outside room 119, “They’re keeping an eye on him.”

“How is he?” She asked.

“Horrible,” He answered, “Right bastard, gave Lavender hell all day on his first day in, didn’t sleep all night, then we gave him to Minerva–”

“Well, surely she set him straight,” Hermione interjected.

Neville laughed, but there was no humor in it, “Yeah well, she handled it fine, but she also said if we give him to her as a patient again she’s going to retire.”

“Shit,” Hermione sighed. She thought of Rose, asleep in her bed and thought of seeing her in the morning and waking her up for breakfast, “So naturally you give him to me.”

“Well,” He shrugged, looking sheepish, “It was either you or me, so…”

“So you sweet-talked the charge nurse into giving you an easy night?” Hermione quirked a brow and Neville just grinned. Hermione sighed, picked up the chart, and turned to face Room 119. 

There were only two guards now, not six, and they nodded at her as she entered. 

Tom Riddle sat on the bed in a room of his own, he looked pale, with dark circles under his eyes, and he fixed his eyes disconcertingly on her the moment she stepped through the door. 

“My name is Hermione,” She said, putting gloves on at the door, “I’ll be your nurse tonight.”

“Is that so?” He asked. His voice was deep, but gravelly. He must be exhausted, she thought, if he truly hadn’t slept since he arrived. 

“How are you feeling?” She asked, but before he could answer she added, “I hear you haven’t slept since–”

“How can I sleep?” He cut her off, “Sitting in a hospital bed with a new nurse every few hours asking me the same inane questions?”

Hermione paused, observed him for a moment. She had dealt with plenty of difficult patients, was used to biting her tongue and slapping a smile on her face. He kept staring at her with dark eyes, his jaw clenched, and she knew what she was in for. 

“Well, Mr. Riddle,” Hermione said with a smile, “I will endeavor not to ask the same inane questions, then.” She stepped closer, made a vague gesture in his direction and asked, “May I?”

He was receiving fluids, antibiotics, seemed stable, she just needed to check his blood pressure to be sure. The fact that he obviously hadn’t slept wasn’t a good sign and certainly wouldn’t help in his recovery. He nodded once, tersely, and she glanced back at the guards at the door. 

“Is it because of the guards that you won’t sleep?” She asked as she took his blood pressure. His brow twitched, but he didn’t look away from her face.

“If I said yes, would you take them away?” He asked her. She looked up from her work to meet his eye and tried to figure out if he was making a joke. 

Either way she laughed, shook her head, and said, “I think we would both love that, but no, unfortunately not.”

His blood pressure was low, but according to his chart improving. It would probably help if he slept. She met his gaze, he was still watching her. “Your blood pressure is low.” She told him, “You should sleep.”

“I should sleep?” He echoed, his brow rose like he was talking down to a child, “Close my eyes, and dream?” He looked almost crazed, she thought. She wasn’t sure if that was the lack of sleep, the time he spent in prison, or maybe it was just who he was. Either way, she didn’t move - it was always better not to react when a patient became angry. “Let the medication take effect, while the rest of you skirt around me like an animal in cage–”

“Sir–” She interjected, but he spoke over her. 

“While men with guns fantasize about the possibility of turning those very guns on me while I sleep and while I continue to be denied visitors that I would typically be allowed to see simply because I am unwell–” She sighed and made to move away as he worked himself up, but he grabbed her arm. She met his eyes again “–Don’t pretend to be concerned for my health, nurse,” He spat, “Shut your mouth, treat me, and keep your inane thoughts to yourself, lest I lose my temper.”

“Hey!” A guard from the door called, took a step into the room. Hermione held out a hand to stop him, “Miss–” 

“Please let me do my job!” She said, turning to hold a hand out more firmly against the guard at the door. He hesitated, shifted his weight on his feet. “Return to your post, please.”

The guard very pointedly looked at the place where Mr. Riddle’s hand was on her arm. Hermione looked at that same hand, then back at the guard, and she hoped she was communicating every ounce of annoyance she felt in that stare.

The guard returned to his post. 

Hermione’s gently pried Tom Riddle’s fingers from her arm. “It was merely a suggestion,” She said and met his eyes with a smile, “Stay awake if you wish.”

He was stable, so she turned to leave the room. The guard stopped her at the door. “Hey, uh–” He said, glancing into the room and back at her, “Could I get a sandwich?”

She looked him up and down. 

“It’s just, we’ve been here all day, I’m pretty hungry.”

“No,” She snapped, “We don’t give sandwiches to the guards, they’re for the patients.”

“Well, he’s not going to eat it.” He said, gesturing toward Room 119 with his head. Hermione, taken aback, glanced into the room and saw Mr. Riddle’s eyes fixed on her before she looks back at the guard.

“Don’t ask me again,” She said, and walked away. 

–

That night, she had Mr. Riddle with the temper and the armed guards, Mrs. Sprout with the lovely disposition recovering from a severe allergic reaction, and Mr. Crouch the drug seeker in the hospital for a broken leg who wouldn’t stop screaming for opiates, and Mr. Riddle’s stupid fucking guard who kept asking her for sandwiches.

It was a long night. 

“What is he in for, anyway?” Padma asked, looking toward Hermione for an answer. She didn’t have to specify who - obviously she meant the one with the guards. Hermione shrugged - she really didn’t know.

“Like everything.” Neville said, pouring himself a coffee while Padma patiently awaited her cup. “He’s in jail for life for everything from selling weed to killing people and chopping them up.”

“No way,” Padma said.

“Yes way,” Neville took a sip from his coffee and shrugged, “You heard about him - he went by Voldemort.”

Padma gasped, turned and faced Hermione with wide eyes and a wide-open mouth, “Hermione, you’re treating Voldemort,”

“I’m treating a very irritable prison patient” Hermione corrected, “And not for the first time.”

“He was all over the news last year!” Padma said, clearly distressed, “He’s crazy - and I heard he didn’t piss for a week to be sent here, this is probably all his plan or–”

“Padma, drop it.” Hermione snapped. “There are two guards outside his room, a guard at the lifts, a guard at each stairwell and at the front entrance of the hospital. Mr. Riddle is in a hospital bed recovering from sepsis.” She stood up, “I suggest we all stop panicking and help him to recover, like it’s our job to do.”

She left the break room and glanced toward Room 119 and saw only one guard.

“Excuse me!” She called, hurrying toward the singular guard, “Excuse me,” She said again, peeking into the room. Mr. Riddle was still awake, watching her as she appeared in the doorway. She looked at the guard, “Where the hell is the other one?”

“Miss, please calm down.” The guard said. 

“Where is he?” She asked again, “Where has he gone - doesn’t he have a job to do?”

“He stepped away for a moment.”

“Stepped away where?” She demanded.

“Calm down, nurse,” A voice said, and she turned her head to see the guard approaching with a sandwich in his hand. 

“Where did you get that?” She asked quietly, a familiar feeling of annoyance mixed with rage in her chest, the kind that only comes after a long night of work on very little sleep.

“The vending machine downstairs.” He said, shrugging. He started to open the package, but Hermione snatched it out of his hands. 

“This nurse has a name,” She said, “It’s Hermione Granger, and I expect you to use it. And no one,” She lifted the sandwich to eye level, right in his face, “Is going to be eating any sandwiches here except for Mr. Riddle, as he is the patient. The rest of us will do our jobs and eat when we’re done.”

The guard laughed, “Okay, okay, just give me back the–” He reached for it and she snatched it away. His smile fell off his face. 

She marched into the room, tearing open the package and thrusting it toward Mr. Riddle in his bed. 

“He doesn’t want it!” The Guard protested.

“Yes he does,” Hermione snapped, and turned back toward Mr. Riddle in the bed, who was staring oddly at her. “Don’t you, Mr Riddle?”

He just stared at her. She thought maybe he would have another temper tantrum and start yelling. “Take it,” She encouraged gently, “Please.”

To her surprise, he did. He took the sandwich and took a bite, watching her all the while. 

She smiled. 

“There,” She said, turning back toward the guard, “Don’t leave your post again or I will inform your superior.”

She left the room, grateful that Mr. Riddle didn’t have another one of his outbursts this time. 

Her shift was nearly over anyway. 

–

When she returned home, she laid down in Rose’s bed minutes before she was meant to wake. 

“Mummy?” Rose murmured.

“Good morning,” Hermione whispered.

“I dreamed you were a kangaroo.” Rose said.  Hermione laughed. 

“Were you a Joey?” Hermioned asked. 

“No,” She said, “I’m a Rose.”

Hermione laughed again, “A Joey is a baby kangaroo,” She explained. 

“Oh,” Rose said, and then, “Can we have cheerios?”

Hermione loved these moments more than anything.

She watched Rose over bowls of Cheerios again. She would gladly spend every morning, every moment like this. She thought of the loneliness she felt when she first found out she was pregnant, the boundless love she felt when she held her in her arms for the first time, the feeling in her chest like she was going to explode with happiness when the nurse handed over her baby, wrapped in a white blanket.

She dreamed of a life where she could have this always, no interruptions. 

–

She returned to work the next night. 

“Why the hell do I have Riddle again?” She asked when she looked at the assignments for the night. Lavender was there, the tail end of her shift, and she raised her eyebrows and looked away. “What?” Hermione pressed. 

Minerve spoke up, “He asked for you.”

“He what?” Hermione balked. 

“Fucking screamed about it,” Lavender muttered, “I tried to bring him something to help him sleep and he slapped it out of my hand and said he wouldn’t take anything from the hand of a whore.”

“He said what?” 

“He’s crazy,” Lavender said, “Fucking crazy, good luck Hermione, you’ll need it.”

And she left like that, clearly furious. Hermione looked to Minerva, but Minerva said nothing, simply raised her eyebrows in the way she always did and left to start her rounds. 

The guards outside the room were different than the night before. They nodded to her as she entered. Mr Riddle watched her, looking more tired than ever. 

“Miss Granger,” He greeted. 

“Mr. Riddle,” Hermione replied, smiling, “I heard you were asking for me.”

“You’re my favorite nurse.” He said. 

“Already?” Hermione asked, “Well, it sounds like you aren’t giving anyone else much of a chance.”

“I liked seeing you with McLaggen yesterday.” He said. Hermione wasn’t sure what he meant, and that must have shown on her face, because he said, “The guard.”

“Ah,” She nodded, and added, “You know, this version of you doesn’t exactly match up with the man who apparently slapped medication out of a nurse’s hand and called her a whore.”

“That nurse,” Riddle said as Hermione read over his chart and set about checking his vitals, “goes between speaking to me like I’m a child, and speaking to me like I’m a war criminal.”

“Sometimes you act like both,” Hermione said. 

Mr. Riddle snapped his eyes to meet hers, and it took that for her to realize he finally hadn’t been staring at her. But he was now. Hermione blinked, and then realized what she just said. 

“I hope you won’t start slapping me and calling me a whore.” She said, a poor attempt at a joke.

He smiled then, and it struck her that despite the dark circles around his bloodshot eyes, despite his pale skin and gaunt cheeks he really was sinfully handsome. “You wouldn’t like that?” He asked. 

“No,” Hermione said firmly, and trying to change the subject she asked, “Are you hungry?”

“I am,” He said, but before she could be too pleased by his cooperation, he continued, “But first I have a question.”

“Yes?” She prompted. 

“How old are you?” He asked. 

She smiled. Such a random question, such a strangely serene patient. “I’m 27.”

“You look older,” He said, and she couldn’t help but breathe out a short laugh. “I don’t mean any offense,” He continued, “I mean that you don’t hold yourself like most people your age.”

“I’m sorry, I’m not sure what you mean.”

“The way you look. Like someone who has a large amount of responsibility and wisdom. A teacher, a scholar,” Hermione was taking her gloves off when he said, “Or a mother.”

She paused. She watched him for a long moment in silence. The guards stood silently outside the door.

“I apologize,” Mr. Riddle said, “I am only trying to make conversation. 

“Are you a father?” She asked him, and he laughed. Twice she’d seen him smile now. 

“No,” He said, “I never had time.”

She thought about what Padma and Neville said in the breakroom, thought about the armed guards at every exit. She wondered why he was asking her these questions, why he was here, why he had forced himself to become ill enough to end up in the hospital, she wondered…

“I have a daughter.” She admitted. Because here he was a man, receiving treatment, and she refused to treat him like an animal. 

“Does she look like you?” He asked her, “Or her father?”

She smiled, a bit tightly, and didn’t answer. 

He did a funny thing then - hie eyes narrowed just a bit, he tilted his head, and his mouth twisted in what wasn’t quite a smile but couldn’t be defined as anything else. 

“I’ll get you something to eat.” Hermione said, “Do you want something to help you sleep?”

“Not yet,” He said, “I don’t want to sleep while you’re here.”

Her stomach twisted at that, and she a strange, nervous feeling made her hands twitch, as if there was something humming just underneath her skin. 

“I’ll bring you some food.” She said. 

“Thank you, Hermione.” He said. 

The guards watched her as she left the room. 

–

He was the easiest patient she ever had. 

He let her run his IV, administer the antibiotics, check his vitals, all without any complaints, just a few odd questions. He didn’t ask about her daughter again, perhaps because he noted that she became uncomfortable when he did. Instead, he asked what her parents did for a living, he asked where she was from, he asked irrelevant things like her favorite flower and how she took her tea. 

He was much chattier than she expected him to be. 

“Miss Granger,” Minerva said in the break room, using her surname as if she was a patient. She always did that. “How has Mr. Riddle been?”

“Fine, actually.” Hermione said. “The guards are more difficult than he is, although the ones tonight aren’t so bad. They’re quiet.”

Minerva raised a single eyebrow and said nothing else. 

Hermione gave Tom Riddle a sleeping pill at the end of her shift, and he took it with a smile.

–

“Do you have to go?” Rose asked. 

It was 7:00pm. The babysitter had just arrived and Hermione was dressed in her scrubs ready to go to work for the third night in a row and Rose was crying. Hermione brushed her daughter’s hair out of her face and felt her heart wrench. 

“I’m sorry, darling,” She said, “I’ll be back in the morning, just like always.”

“But I want you to read me a story,” Rose sniffled, snot running out of her nose. She wiped at it messily with the back of her hand. “I want you to read me a bedtime story.”

“I’ll read you a story in the morning, I promise.” Hermione said, “I’ll come back home, just like always, in the morning. When you wake up I’ll be right there next to you.”

She never once wished that Rose’s father was around - he didn’t even know he had a child, and Hermione would keep it that way - but in moments like this, she always wished she wasn’t alone. Maybe it would be easier that way. 

Rose wouldn’t stop crying. Hermione had to shut the door on her crying and begging her mother not to leave. 

–

“Again?” Hermione snapped as soon as she saw the assignments for the night. “Again? Seriously?”

“Stop complaining,” Lavender snapped, “Everyone knows he’s an angel with you.”

“Why are you still here?” Hermione snapped back, and Lavender glowered back at her. 

“I’m just leaving,” She said, “He has given me hell ever since he woke up, so good fucking luck.”

She watched Lavender storm out, but the only thing she really took from that conversation was that he finally got some rest. She looked at Room 119, saw the guards outside the door. McLaggen, the annoying one, he still wasn’t there - it was the same guards from the night before. 

She started toward the room, and the guards watched her closely as they always did. They nodded to her as she entered the room.

And she stopped short. 

A tall, blonde man was sat by Mr. Riddle’s bed. He had one of Riddle’s hands clasped between his, and looked as if he was saying something quite passionately before Hermione interrupted. 

Visitors weren’t allowed on the night shift. 

Tom Riddle wasn’t meant to have visitors at all.

“What the hell is this?” Hermione asked, quietly, let the low tone of her voice fill the room that was silent except for the steady beating of Mr. Riddle’s heart monitor. 

Tom Riddle blinked at her, and said nothing. 

“No visitors.” She said firmly, and turned toward the guards, “Why the hell does he have a visitor?”

The guards looked at each other, and then her, and said nothing. 

She turned toward the blonde man, feeling as if she was in a dream or on a TV show, something that couldn’t be real life, “Get out.” She snapped, “No visitors - what part of no visitors do you not understand? Who let you in here?”

“Nurse,” The blonde man snapped, holding up a finger as if to say ‘wait, one second, “Give us a moment.”

“No, I will not give you a moment.” Hermione snapped, “No visitors. Period. You need to leave.” She turned to the guards, “Excuse me?” She threw up her hands, hoping they would soon understand the ridiculousness of the situation. “Get him out.”

The guards walked in, finally, and said, “Sir, it’s time to leave.”

“No, it is not time to leave.” The blonde man snapped. He must come from money, Hermione thought, that was the only thing that would explain his tone. “We are having a private conversation, so if you don’t mind–”

“Abraxas,” Mr. Riddle interjected. “Do as Hermione asks.”

First, the blonde man - Abraxas - screwed up his face and looked at Mr. Riddle like he thought he was crazy. Then he looked at Hermione, and back at Tom. His expression changed, flattened out, like he suddenly understood something, then he turned his eyes back to Hermione and stared. 

He just stared and stared, his expression unreadable, in a way that made Hermione acutely uncomfortable. 

“Goodbye, sir,” She said, then turned to the guards and said, “Could you both do your job, please?”

“No need,” Abraxas said, his tone quieter, less snobby, less snippy. “I’ll see myself out.”

He reached down and clasped Mr. Riddle’s hand once more, but said nothing. Then he left.

Hermione shut her eyes and took a deep breath, tried to shut the anger away. She felt on edge tonight, it started with the way she left her daughter and was only made worse with all this bullshit. She turned on the guards again, who were returning to their post. 

“No visitors.” She snapped, “At all.”

One of the guards nodded tersely. Neither said anything. 

She turned back to Mr. Riddle, who was watching her patiently from his bed. 

She shouldn’t mention it to him. She knew he could get nasty, she shouldn’t try his temper, she should try to have a nice night at work, but she couldn’t help herself. “You know you aren’t allowed visitors.” She said.

“I know.” He agreed, “I apologize. He always visited me in custody - it is a wasted effort to try and explain to him that anything should be different here.”

“Seems its a wasted effort to explain anything to him at all.” Hermione snarked, pulling on her rubber gloves. Mr. Riddle chuckled.

“You aren’t wrong,” He agreed, and watched her very closely as she approached the bed, “You seem agitated.”

“How are you feeling?” She asked, ignoring his observation. 

“I am steadily improving,” He said, “How are you feeling?”

“I’m doing just fine,” She said, moving to take his blood pressure. He caught her arm, far more gentle than the last time he touched her. 

“Hermione,” He said her name quietly, reverently, it made her stop in her tracks for a moment. “I can tell that you aren’t.”

She met his eyes then. She had no desire to entertain whatever delusions he was experiencing, whatever it was he thought was going on here. She wanted to get on with her job and return home to her daughter and let him be dragged back to prison. 

“I am frustrated that the patients of this hospital are incapable of following basic instructions, and concerned about how incapable the guards outside your room seem to be at doing their job.” She said, “I would like to check your vitals, and then go about my job. I have patients other than you, Mr. Riddle.”

His jaw clenched. He let go of her arm. 

She went about her business, and he let her. No questions, no comments, no interruptions. It felt strange, charged, she found that she preferred it when he asked her odd questions. 

Abruptly, she felt guilty. Not because she felt like Mr. Riddle didn’t deserve to be told off, because she believed that he did. But it was her job to be his nurse, not anything else, and she had no business telling him off when he was being nothing but polite. She always hated the idea of someone being treated like a burden, or an animal, or anything other than a person in need of human interaction, and who was she to tell off the patient when it was the guards and the nursing staff who allowed it to happen in the first place?

“My daughter,” She said after a long stretch of silence, “She was crying when I left. I hate to leave her like that.”

“It must be difficult,” He said, not missing a beat, as if he was ready for her to break the silence. “Raising her on your own.” 

“Yes,” She agreed, “It is. I wish I could be with her all the time.”

“You are a good mother.” He told her. 

She stopped her work, raised her head to meet his eyes again. He was always staring at her so intensely, in a way that made her hair stand on end. 

She couldn’t help herself when she asked him, “Why do you have armed guards all throughout the hospital guarding you?”

He smiled, “Because I’m a prisoner.” He told her. 

“I can’t imagine you committing a crime so terrible you need to be brought in by six guards.” She admitted. 

He smiled, and said nothing else. 

And something about the way he looked away from her then, looked toward the guards, still smiling, like something about this whole situation was deeply amusing that made her think; it truly wasn’t so far fetched. 

And remember the way he acted to people other than herself, remembering the way he somehow had a visitor with the permission of the guards and the nursing staff, she wondered why she had thought it was far-fetched, even for a minute.

She needed some air. 

“Are you hungry?” She asked.

“Yes,” He answered, “But not yet.”

A strange answer, but Hermione just nodded and left the room. 

The guards, as always, watched her as she left.

–

Hermione researched Voldemort on her break.

Neville wasn’t wrong, he was in prison for life. He was found guilty on counts of Assault, kidnapping, theft, robbery, murder, and multiple drug charges. He was the kingpin for the Death Eaters, which as Hermione understood from the news she read, was an organized crime unit that participated in predominantly drug and arms trading. 

If the hospital was an escape plan, as was the original concern, she wondered how someone like him could take so long to carry out his plan. She wondered why he was still there, sitting in his hospital room surrounded by prison guards, sitting patiently, as if he didn’t have any plan but to get well again. 

She called the babysitter to check on Rose. She was asleep in her bed. 

Hermione took a deep breath and returned to work. 

–

“You don’t work tomorrow night.” Mr. Riddle said when she was checking on him after her break. 

“No, I’m not.” Hermione said, “Did you ask someone if I was?”

“Yes,” He admitted, “You’re my favorite nurse.”

Hermione smiled. “Try not to call any other nurses whores and you should be just fine.”

“I can’t help it,” He said, “It does make me angry when I have a nurse who isn’t you.”

“That’s rather childish, don’t you think?”

“You know, we’ve met before.” He admitted, and that abruptly caught Hermione’s attention. 

“What do you mean?” She asked, quietly, as if they were telling secrets. 

He lowered his voice to match her tone, “Once, you looked after a gunshot wound for one of my friends,” Hermione furrowed her brow, shaking her head, she was sure she would remember meeting him. “Before that, a colleague who nearly lost their leg,” 

“Mr. Riddle–”

“But that wasn’t the first time.” He continued. His gaze was decidedly intense now. Hermione felt helplessly caught up in it. “The first time,  I came to the hospital on business.” He reached out, wrapped his fingers around her wrist, “You were a patient, and I was in the wrong room.”

She didn’t know what he meant. She didn’t remember. 

“I held your daughter in my arms,” Hermione felt something heavy settle in her chest, something cold, “You were half asleep. You asked me to hand her to you, you didn’t know who I was. I realized I was in the wrong room but I couldn’t bear to leave.”

“Why were you there?” She asked, her voice was shaking slightly, try as she may to conceal it. 

“I was waiting for someone,” He said.

“To threaten them with their baby in your arms?” She guessed. He had that strange expression again, his eyes slightly narrowed, his head tilted, and she knew she was right. “What are you doing here, Mr. Riddle?”

“Right now,” He answered, his voice soft, “I’m looking at you, wondering how many more times we should cross paths before I finally begin paying attention.”

She moved away, feeling unsettled, afraid. She turned, and the guards were stood at the doorway as if nothing was happening at all. 

“Mr. Riddle, are you hungry?” She asked.

“Yes,” He answered, “But I don’t want hospital food.”

“I’m afraid thats all I can offer you,” She said, “I’ll let you get some rest.”

She left him like that. She didn’t check him again for the remainder of her shift, and then she left. 

She went home, and made good on her promise to Rose to read her a story in the morning. 

–

Rose was coloring at the table while the TV was on that morning. Hermione stayed awake despite the long night shift before to have more time with her daughter.

No matter how many channels she switched through they all had the same message. 

Voldemort escaped from Hogwarts Medical Centre at 8:22am. 

Police had yet to make a statement. 

No one knew where he was. 

“Mummy,” Rose called, looking up from her coloring book, “Can we bake muffins today?”

Hermione tried to shake the uneasy feeling that had settled deep in her gut. She smiled at her daughter, and thought of the nurse that had so gently handle her daughter over to her that first night. The man who wasn’t really a nurse at all. 

“Of course, sweetheart,” Hermione said, and she smiled. 

She switched off the TV.

[stratus-skye07]

Suga Craze [One] | Suga

[Prologue] [Masterlist]

My whole life has been nothing but an adrenaline rush. There’s never a moment where I feel at peace. When I was younger I’d be jealous of the people that would always say they were bored. Everyday is a hassle for me. Being the daughter of one of the most notorious mafia leaders was one thing, but now being married to the next generation’s mafia leader is a whole new chapter of danger.

“Nurse Min!” One of the other doctors shouts for my assistance. He was bringing in a patient from the ambulance drop off. “He’s going into cardiac arrest, I need you to administer CPR until we get him into the operating room.”

I nod, “Yes, sir.” I hop onto the stretcher, over the patient, to start chest compressions as the other nurse gives him oxygen through intubation.

Being a nurse doesn’t give you any downtime either but I guess that’s more my fault than anything. I wanted to do the opposite of what my dad and my husband do so there’s at least a counteracting cycle to the mayhem in my life.

I maintain the chest compression until the operating room is ready for the patient to go under surgery. My arms are sore and tired but the patient made it through surgery. After resting for a bit to get some of my energy back, I head back onto the floor to continue my duties.

The Hawaiian vacation sadly ended. The paranoia I experienced while on vacation quickly went away and I was able to spend time enjoying myself again. I was a little disappointed that we had to come back but Yoongi and I both have our jobs to do.

I finish up my rounds with Taeyeon as we head back to the nurse’s station.

“I’m still jealous that you got to go to Hawaii. That’s my dream vacation spot. You even have a gorgeous tan.” She says with a pouty face.

“To be honest, it’s something I really needed. It was a good way to spend time with Yoongi.” Obviously, the beginning of our marriage wasn’t the best but after everything we went through we’ve become closer than ever. The trip was another way to fall in love even more.

Taeyeon gasps in excitement,“Speaking of you two lovebirds, have you guys had any thought about bringing kids into the picture?”

The thought of having babies gives me a weird mix of joy and anxiety, “Um, not really.” I respond.

“Don’t you want to have kids?” She asks.

“Of course, but Yoongi and I have jobs that are really time consuming. I wouldn’t feel right leaving our child with a nanny for a majority of their life.”

“Have you hinted about it to him? Maybe he’d be happy about the idea.” She elbows my arm.

I shake my head, “I’d rather not put the idea in his head. It’s more for my sake than his.”

Technically, it was half the truth. I’m mostly worried about the fact that our child would be born in a mafia family, always in constant danger. I remember growing up in that environment and being so scared that my dad would never come home. All the things I’ve seen would be all our child would see. That fear is really what’s stopping me from talking about kids with Yoongi.

Approaching the nurse station, I smile at the sight of a friendly face.

“Hello, Dr. Kim.” I sneak up beside Jin to greet him.

He waves, “Oh hi, Y/N. I’m sorry I haven’t had a chance to welcome you back from your honeymoon. Things got pretty busy while you were gone.”

I nod leaning my elbows on the counter, “Yeah, I could tell. I’ve been working nonstop since being back.”

“How was it?” He asks,

I want to tell him that it was absolutely fantastic but that little bit of wonder starts ringing in my head. Before I knew that Jin was a part of Bangtan he was my friend and I trusted him so I figure I can start trusting him again.

“Everything was great until I thought I saw something.” I hesitantly say.

“Like what?” He asks with a tone of concern.

I look around to make sure that there aren’t any unwanted ears listening, “For a panicked second, I thought that Yoongi and I were being followed but when I looked again there was no one.”

Jin leans in so only I can hear him speak, “Have you talked about it with Yoongi?”

“Yeah, but he thinks that I was just reliving some sort of trauma from being shot and the stuff with Hyung-Sik.”

Jin nods listening intently, “Do you think what you saw was real?”

I shrug my shoulders, “I don’t know. I know that I saw something but what I don’t know is if it was real or if my mind was just playing tricks on me.”

He looks at me worryingly, “You could be suffering from PTSD.”

“It doesn’t make sense though, Jin.” I explain, “I grew up seeing the worst a kid could see. PTSD doesn’t happen to me.”

“Seeing them is one thing but you were technically dead when you got shot. Near death experiences are more than enough to cause it.”

“I feel fine though. People say I’m glowing since I’ve been back.” I say showing him my newly tan arm.

He shakes his head, “Most people do after a traumatic incident but it can hit you at any time. Just hearing a balloon pop can trigger the sound of the gunshot that pierced your body.”

I sigh at the thought of adding another problem to my list of worries, “So what do I do now?”

“Have you thought about talking to someone like therapy?” He asks.

I nudge his shoulder, “Well what are you here for?”

He waves his hands, “I’m only a doctor not a psychiatrist.”

“Yes, you’re a doctor but you’re also my friend. Who better to talk to?” I say.

“Fine, but in the meantime,” Jin takes out a pen and begins to write on a notepad, “It might be best to start you on some medication just to keep you afloat until we figure this all out.”

“Thanks, Jin.” I take the prescription from him, “Can you do me a favor and not mention this to Yoongi? We’re going to a party tomorrow night and I’d rather not have him worry about me the whole time.”

Jin nods, “You got it.”

At some point tomorrow I’ll have to get the prescription filled. I'm not one to take medication for my problems but if I’m really suffering from PTSD then it wouldn’t hurt to calm my nerves and keep Yoongi from worrying about me.

The following night, I finish getting ready as I shimmy into my black dress. It’s a long off the shoulder mermaid style dress. Yoongi bought it for me among other dresses for these parties. At first, I never liked going to these things especially since I got shot the first time I went to it but it was soon discovered that a lot of the male guests were making compliments about me which made him more prideful in accompanying him.

Just as I'm fixing the front of my dress, I get chills as a familiar hand strokes my spine.

"Do you need help zipping up?" His low voice brushes against my ear.

I chuckle, "You have that question backwards and your hands are cold."

"Your right, I need a place to warm them up." Without warning, Yoongi slides both of his hands into my dress to wrap around my bare waist.

I press my legs together to ease the tingling that has started to yearn for his hands to lower, "Yoongi, if you keep this up we'll be late." I pull his arms away.

Eventually, Yoongi zipped me up with much dismay. We made our entrance to the party. I stayed by Yoongi's side the whole night as he talked business with other mafia leaders and clients. I don't pay much attention to the conversation since I don’t handle any of it. I've learned to accept the fact that I’m here to make Yoongi look good which brings much pride to my ego.

It isn't until Yoongi's grip on my waist gets me alerted. I follow his gaze to see him staring at a man, a gaze that could kill any woman.

"Hello Suga," he bows, greeting Yoongi.

Yoongi reluctantly bows back but something about his demeanor changes as he speaks, "Suho, I didn’t think I’d see you here tonight."

He shrugs, "I've been busy in Japan the past few months. I notice a lot has changed since I’ve been gone."

"Nothing that concerns you has changed." Yoongi remarks instantly.

Suddenly Suho's eyes drifted towards me. "You've finally found a Mrs. Min to settle down with." He extends his hand, "It's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Suho, leader of EXO."

"I'm Y/N and I'm not sure if I can say the same yet." I take his hand without hesitation just to show my brave side.

“Excuse me for being brave but I was wondering if I could have the honor of this dance with Y/N?”

Yoongi scoffs, “I don’t think so.”

He raises his eyebrows, “Is it not lady’s choice in the matter?”

As much as it annoyed Yoongi, he looked over at me to see my answer. “One dance shouldn’t hurt anyone. I’ll be back, honey.” Yoongi isn’t happy with my decision but he lets me go.

I don’t like to be left in the dark about things. If Suho is some sort of threat to us, I wanna know more about him.

I take Suho’s hand to walk with him towards the floor. I don’t know whether my encounter with Hyung-Sik has made me more brave or stupid but I am curious as to what Suho has hiding up his sleeve.

“So what kind of work have you been doing in Japan, Suho?” I ask.

“I’ve been dealing a lot in exports. It’s a lot of boring stuff compared to what’s been going on here with Bangtan.” Suho smirks at me, “To tell you the truth, ever since I’ve heard about you I’ve been eager to meet you.”

I raise my eyebrows, “Me? I’m nothing special.”

“That’s a bit of an understatement since you managed to save your husband from being killed and in the process cheating death and killing the leader of Park Mafia. I’d say that’s pretty extraordinary to me.”

“Well that’s what happens when you get overconfident in taking something that isn’t yours. It backfires on you.”

Suho’s eyes look passed me to have a little stare down with Yoongi who was watching closely from a distance, “Suga seems to think I want something from Bangtan as if I’m jealous of what he’s accomplished.”

“In all honesty, I grew up in this lifestyle and I know full well that all mafia groups aren’t afraid to take what they want. What makes your ambitions any different?” I ask.

“The truth is I could care less about what he’s doing with his group. My only concern is being a leader to my group and leading them up the ladder.”

Finally, the music slowly ends and I break away from Suho’s hold. Instantly, Yoongi comes up to pull me away by the hip.

Suho smirks, "I hope in the future we can have more time to talk."

Yoongi scoffs, "Any business you have to talk about with her you discuss with me. Now if you'll excuse us."

“You’ve got a keeper, Suga.”

I can tell that Yoongi doesn’t like Suho but for what reason? In comparison from my first meeting with Hyung-Sik, this was more of a calm introduction. Suho never once gave off the vibe that he was after something from me or Bangtan.

"So what's the real reason you don't like Suho." I ask as we make our way towards the bar.

"It's not that I don't like him. He's always been the quiet type and hasn't caused trouble for Bangtan, yet, so I don't trust him." He says side eyeing him.

“I’d have my doubts about it.” There’s surely something mysterious about Suho but I don’t sense it being a threatening thing.

Before Yoongi can respond, I’m caught off guard when I hear a female voice shout his name practically in my ear.

“Yoongi dear!” 

A woman with ash blonde hair, wearing some sort of leather jacket dress hybrid, about the same height as me, minus her heels, comes up to embrace Yoongi in a hug which he reciprocates, to my surprise.

She quickly covers her mouth, “I forgot this is a business party so I have to call you Suga.”

He smiles, “It’s fine. CL this is my wife, Y/N. Babe, this is CL.”

CL turns her attention to me, “So this is Mrs. Min Yoongi.” She shakes my hand fiercely. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

I roll my eyes, “Yeah, I seem to be the talk of the town these days.”

She waves me off, “I’m not talking about your encounter with Hyung-Sik. Suga has had his eye on you for awhile.”

“CL is the leader of the 21 Mafia. We met when I was starting to get Bangtan together. Our groups are very strong allies.”

“So I hope that you can consider me like a sister.” She says placing her hand on my shoulder.

I smile from the nice gesture, “Thank you but if Yoongi trusts you then I have no reason to doubt your word for it.”

 “Well whenever you have time to spare, let’s have lunch together, Y/N. We can get to know each other. For now, I’ll say excuse me there’s someone I must speak to before he disappears again.”

CL walks off into the crowd, leaving Yoongi and I alone. CL makes her way across the room, in the same direction Suho left as I lose them in the crowd. I smile sarcastically at Yoongi.

“You talked about me a lot? How come I’ve never heard about CL?” I ask suspiciously.

He shrugs his shoulders, “It never came up and it’s not what you think. Yes, we hooked up a couple of times but nothing more serious than that.”

I take a sip of my drink, “Mhm, I’m sure there wasn’t more.”

Yoongi tilts his head, smirking at me. “Why does it sound like you’re jealous?”

I act like a child and look away, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh you don’t? Maybe I should take you home and show you how important you are.” His fingers glide up my thigh, tickling me through the fabric of my dress.

“Anything to leave this place.”

Yoongi takes my hand and leads the way to the parking lot where the driver that brought us here was waiting near the car. Yoongi opens the door for me to get in when I hear him talking to the driver.

“Take the long way home and we’re gonna need some privacy.” Yoongi says while I’m shimmying in.

The driver nods, “Yes, sir.”

Once Yoongi gets in the car beside me, the driver closes up the blacked out window that separates us from him.

“Come here,” Yoongi pulls me to straddle his lap where I’m greeted by a thick bulge coming from his pants.

“Impatient much?” I tease.

“Ever since you put that dress on, I’ve been thinking about what I’d do to you when we get home all night. I could barely concentrate.”

I pout, “I’m sorry. I guess I should take responsibility.”

Yoongi pulls out the hair stick from my bun causing my hair to fall down. Our lips instantly connect as Yoongi’s hands roam down my sides until they reach my thighs. The dress goes up but not high enough as Yoongi aggressively tears the slit further. I gasp at the sudden action, “I really liked this dress.��

“I’ll buy you another one.” He says through heavy breaths.

Yoongi reaches up my thighs, searching my waist for the bikini line of my underwear, but doesn’t find one.

He looks up at me with lustful eyes, “Were you expecting this?”

Licking his bottom lip, I smirk, “No, but I was hoping for it.”

I reach down to undo his pants when I overly force the buckle of his belt causing it to break. Yoongi groans, “I liked that belt buckle.”

I chuckle, “You can buy yourself a new one.”

Opening up his pants, I’m greeted by his fully erected member. His lips continue their seductive attack on my neck, dipping his tongue into my collarbone. I sit further down onto his thighs to glide the lips of my pussy up the length of his cock causing Yoongi to moan into my skin.

I skim my hand from his shoulder, down his torso until I reach the head of his dick. It was already wet at the tip from his precum and along the length from my arousal. I adjust his cock under my entrance as I slowly take in his thickness. 

“Oh fuck,” The movement of the car made it difficult to slowly sink down so I can adjust to his size. 

Yoongi tightens his arms around my waist as the road begins to get bumpier, “I got you, baby.”

I smile giving him a kiss, “I know you do.”

The movement of the car made the feeling all more pleasurable, each drop went deeper than the last. Each intimate moment with Yoongi feels more than just him fucking me. It’s more like him expressing his love and adoration for me. He doesn’t need to say anything to justify that it’s true. Just feeling it is enough.

“I love you, Yoongi.”

He looks me in the eyes keeping his rhythm, “I love you, Y/N.”

I squeeze my knees as far as they would go against Yoongi’s thighs. My walls start to tighten and I can feel Yoongi beginning to throb against me. I clung onto him until the intense blissful feeling reached its peak. My thighs begin to shake from the aftershock of pleasure going through my body, leaving me breathless. I lean my head down onto Yoongi’s shoulder when he let out a chuckle. “Are you still jealous?”

[Two]

[seokjinsdisciple]

Misconceptions

jinyoung x reader (angst, smut, kinda fluff)

it’s no secret that you aren’t a fan of got7, in fact, you’ve written several articles about just why it is you don’t ilke them. When your editor asks you to do a piece on them, and spend a whole week getting to know them, you aren’t pleased. Can Got7 change your mind about them, or will your hatred be unwavering?

requested

Word count: 3.9k

warnings: ass grabbing, language, hate against got7 (i love them i swear), pussy slaps, unprotected sex, slight cock warming, maybe something else but idk man.

Listen, writing for Soompi was not your dream job. In fact, you had dreamed of writing a bestselling novel...but bestselling novels don’t pay the bills. Yeah, your job for Soompi wasn’t what you had in mind, but at least you have a job. That's what you kept telling yourself as you sat in your editor's office. 

“We want you to do a piece on Got7,” your editor said, getting straight to the point, “We want a piece about who they really are, and in order to write it, we need you to spend some time with them.”

“You want me to...hang out with Got7?” You asked a little bit surprised at the request. Your dislike for the group wasn’t a secret, in fact, you had written a few pieces about it when you first joined the agency. 

“Yes,” your editor smiled, “we are hoping that a piece like this, written from someone who is known to be a little harsh on them would bring a new perspective.”

It seemed like this was pretty much set in stone, and no matter how much you complain about it, there would be nothing else you could do. You just nodded, you needed this job. It paid well, and it allowed you to flex your writing muscles until you could write that stupid book. 

“Great, a car will be sent to your apartment tomorrow morning and you will spend the following week with them.”

“Yes sir, thank you for this opportunity,” you smiled through gritted teeth. You weren’t sure how you were going to survive this next week, but you knew it wasn’t going to be easy. Got7 is known for being a little bit crazy, a quality that you weren’t very fond of. 

You found yourself at your desk, your thoughts of the week ahead of you taking over. You have to work to get done, and it wouldn’t help if you were too busy worrying about if they had read one of your articles or not. Plus, you had decided to go into this with an open mind. What better way to do that than to write out a list of all your preconceived notions of them. So you got to work, listing what you knew you didn’t like about them.

Things I dislike about Got7:

They all have peter pan syndrome (i mean can’t they honestly just grow up and act their age)

Their music is not that good (average at best)

They aren’t athletic and suck at games

Isn’t jackson just going to leave the group anyways?

Their dancing has become less synchronized

They all just want to promote a solo career or are waiting for their contract to end

They are only liked abroad

You left the list at that for now, open to add more things to it if they came to your mind, and you were sure that they would. You are going to really try to write a truthful article about their personalities. 

 Your workday passed without much thought. You completed everything that you would need to get done before being absent for the next week. You pack up your things, taking one last look at the list you had made before sticking it in the notebook that you planned to take notes with. You wanted it as a reminder for keeping an open mind. 

By the time you made your way to the small apartment that you called home, your thoughts had overtaken you once again. You were nervous about meeting 7 handsome idols, and you were nervous that said idols knew about your general dislike of their life’s passions. You lay awake, trying to calm down enough to get a good night’s sleep in order to not completely embarrass yourself.

You groaned as your alarm went off, much too soon might you add. You had only gotten a few hours of sleep because you had been so worried about today. You spent hours into the night watching their music videos, interviews and noting how they interact with fans. You wanted this piece to be good. You finished throwing essentials into your purse, before heading to the bathroom to get ready for the day. You hurried through your routine, running a little behind schedule.

You didn’t have much of a choice but to be ready as a knock rang out at your door. You sighed as you grab your purse, trying to prepare yourself for the day that was to come. You were met at your front door by Got7’s driver. You introduced yourself and he did the same, You made small talk as you were lead to a black van, making your way into a seat in the back. You wanted more time to think as you made your way to wherever it was you were meeting the boys. You scrolled through your socials, checking up on your limited amount of friends and admiring celebrities as you drove through the streets of Seoul. You started to collect your things as you pulled up in front of the JYP building. The driver led you through the winding halls, and down to the basement where you assumed their practice studio was. You made your way inside the room, music blaring as the door opened. 

The boys were hard at work, practicing their dances. The room smelled like sweat, and from what you could tell, they had been practicing for a while. You recognized each of the boys that had been in the music videos, all except Jackson. Where was he, why wasn’t he getting ready for the comeback with his group? Your mouth formed into a frown, pulling out your notebook to write down, just what it meant that he wasn’t here, but before you could, a voice rang out from behind you. 

“Hi,” Jackson said when you turned around, giving you a charming smile, “are you the reporter?”

“Uh- yeah,” you smiled at him, shaking your previous thoughts from your head, “how long have you guys been here?”

Your talking must have caught the attention of the other boys because you were met with Jinyoung’s handsome face. 

“We’ve been here since 3am,” he smiled, looping his arm around Jackson’s shoulders. 

The boys huddled around you. All introducing themselves to you with smiles and bows. The boys so far were everything that you had expected them to be. Bambam and Yugyeom were goofing off, getting hash looks from JB and orders to behave. Mark had yet to say a word to you, though you knew he was known for being shy around strangers through your research. JB was intimidating, though it seemed like he was trying not to be. The boys excused themselves so that they continued to practice their dance, but brought in a chair for you to sit in.

You sat and watched the rest of their practice thinking back on the answer you had gotten from them. They had been here since 3am? You glanced at the clock, impressed that it was 9am and that they were still working hard. They finished the run through and all of them were out of breath, sweating at the amount of effort they had been putting in. This is why you had to keep an open mind, you would not have expected them to put in as much work as they currently were. Plus you had caught yourself earlier with the whole Jackson not being here, you jumped to a conclusion that was not necessarily a good one. Yet, you had been wrong, and you supposed that you owed it to these hard-working boys to give them a shot. So, you pulled out your notebook and began writing. You wrote in detail about the way they worked, how dedicated they seemed to get everything just right. You had a lot written when you felt the tap on your shoulder. 

“Noona, it’s time to go back to the dorms,”  Yugyeom said, blushing a deep shade of red as he withdrew his hand. You could hear the giggles of the boys behind him, obviously trying to embarrass him, but you just smiled back. 

“Ok Yugyeom, let’s go,” you slipped your notebook into your purse, protesting heavily when Yugyeom insisted that he carry it for you. The eight of you made your way through the building and to the car you had ridden here in. The boys piled in first, with Bam sitting on Yugyeom’s lap leaving an empty spot next to Jinyoung for you. 

You tried to make polite conversations with the boys, but before you knew it, they had all fallen asleep. Well, everyone except Jinyoung. 

“So why’d you wanna write an article on us?” he asked, turning his head curiously at you, “You don’t seem like a crazed fan.”

“Well,” you started, you weren’t sure exactly what to say. You couldn’t exactly come out and say your editor had chosen you because you disliked them, so you settle for a half-truth. “I was assigned the piece by my editor, but I’m happy to get an inside look into what you boys do all day.”

“I’m sure you are,” Jinyoung just smirked, and you were irritated at how good he looked. It was very unprofessional the way you were flirting with him, but he didn't seem to mind. The car ride went much more quickly than it had this morning, and the conversation between you and Jinyoung was natural and very suggestive. 

When you arrived at their dorms, you followed the sleepy boys up to their floor. Their dorms were much smaller than you expected. The boys were laughing and playing around, Mark was ordering food, and JB was trying to show you around their dorm. It was chaos, but you couldn’t help but be amused. The way Bam and Yugyeom were wrestling had made Jinyoung start to scold them, but they just laughed at him and continued what they were doing. 

Up to this point you had been, for the most part, ignoring JB, but when you left his tour of the living room, and he was showing you their rooms you paid more attention. 

“This is Mark and Jackson’s room, and this is Youngjae and I’s room,” JB said, pointing to two rooms next to each other. They were small, in fact, you weren’t sure how two people could even sleep in there. You followed JB through the hall, coming to stop at a larger room, “This is Yugyeom and Bam’s room, and right next to it is Jinyoung’s room, which is where you will be sleeping while you are with us,” JB added, opening the door to an impeccably clean room. 

“I’m sorry, why would I be sleeping here?” You asked your heart rate tripling. What if JB had heard you and Jinyoung flirting, and now he was getting some sort of satisfaction in teasing you? As if recognizing your panic, JB just laughed. 

“Jinyoung is gonna sleep on the couch obviously,” he added, laughing again at your face. His answer confused you though because no one had told you that you would be staying the night this whole week. 

“I didn’t- I’m not sleeping here,” You tried to argue because clearly, they had misunderstood your editor. JB just looked at you funny, as if he was confused himself. 

“But your editor said you were supposed to sleep in our dorms to ‘get a feel’ for what it's like to be an idol. Did he not tell you?”

“No, he didn’t. But I really can’t stay here, I don’t have any of the things that I need,” You added, thinking about how terribly out of place it would seem for you to literally live with these idols for a week. You’re sure that their fans would kill to be in your place. 

JB shrugged shooting a quick text before addressing your concerns, “I just asked my manager when we would have time for you to go collect some things to stay and he said that it's gonna be tough to squeeze that in today. He did say that we should be able to tomorrow night, but no promises on that one.”

You just groaned, following JB back into the living room and throwing yourself onto the couch. All of the boys were looking at you as if you were some alien as you tried to collect your thoughts and calm down. Not only were you stuck doing this piece but you were stuck living with these crazy, loud, nice, handsome men for an entire week. Plus you had no chance of clothes, no toothbrush and no sense of what the hell you were going to write in this story. 

“What’s wrong with noona?” Yugyeom’s voice echoed into the room, as you felt a dip in the couch beside your form. JB explained to the group your situation, and you wanted to scream because they were all being so nice and considerate and you hadn’t expected that from them. By the time he was done, you had a mixture of different comfy clothes, socks, and even a stray hair tie. The only thing you were missing was a toothbrush, and honestly, you could use your finger if you needed to. 

You were settling in, getting ready for the schedules that the boys had today, and pretty soon you find yourself observing them at those schedules. The constant flirting from Jinyoung aside, you weren’t having a terrible time so far. It wasn’t long before you find yourself back at the dorms, the boys complaining of hunger and you were inclined to join in. You ate together, watched a few movies, and had genuine conversations with each of the boys. You weren’t sure when you were taken to bed, but you were there in the morning. The boys were kind to you the following day, they had noticed Jinyoung’s little crush and had started to tease him with it, but they didn’t fail to see the way you reacted to him either. You forgot for a while that you were supposed to be writing a piece, so when you can, you started to jot things down that you wanted to be sure to include. 

It was three days later, your fourth day with the group that they finally had a chance to get your things from your apartment. Conveniently, when you asked the boys to come with you, they all had plans. The only person who was free was Jinyoung. 

So here you sat, flirting back and forth as their driver took you back to your apartment to grab some clothes. You had been forced to wear different sweatpants and t-shirts to accompany the boys on their schedules, and you were glad to finally wear something that belonged to you. 

When you arrive, it took no time at all for Jinyoung to begin snooping. For the most part, you just let him be, he couldn’t find anything too embarrassing. At least, you thought so. A thought which was swiftly proved wrong when he came out of your room holding your purple, vibrating dildo. 

“Jinyoung,” you rushed over to him, giving him a glare, “what the fuck!” “Is someone lonely?” He smirked, dangling the toy just out of your reach. 

“Shut up-” you hit him lightly, jumping to try and tear the toy out of his hands. 

“Hmm, I don’t like that tone sweetheart,” He warned, one of his hands grabbing your chin lightly. You would be lying if you said a pool of arousal wasn’t forming in your core. His tone, the words he used, the way he called you sweetheart and the perfect pressure he was using to hold your head in place all had you going weak-kneed for him. His hand brushed lightly down your front, wrapping around and grabbing your butt harshly. 

“I don’t like it when you are wearing the other guy’s clothes,” He practically growled, grabbing your ass a little more harshly than before. You couldn’t have whimpered if you wanted to, because his lips were pressed to yours immediately after. His teeth tugging on your lip, before finding their way into your neck. 

You found yourself pushing him towards the bedroom, your eyes shut as you desperately tried to hold onto each other. With a satisfied smile, he pulled your sweatpants down. Your hands found their way into his hair as he nosed at your core, pressing a gentle kiss to each thigh before pulling your panties down and rubbing a finger up and down your slit. You could imagine him inside you, and god, did you want him inside you. He let out a little chuckle as arousal started to become more clear. 

“You’re so wet for me sweetheart. So eager to take my dick in this tiny little pussy, hm?” Jinyoung questioned, rubbing my clit a little harder with his finger. You couldn’t answer him, your head was thrown back in pleasure. You moaned as he slapped your pussy. “Use your words,” he growled, sending another slap as he waited for your response. 

“God, yes I want you inside me,” you begged, the heightening pleasure leading you quickly to your high. Right as you were about to be washed with absolute pleasure, Jinyoung stopped. 

“I didn’t give you permission to cum yet,” he added, tugging the rest of both of your clothes off. You couldn’t take your eyes off of his member, standing tall and erect and bright pink. He led you to the bed, placing a soft kiss to your temple before resuming his relatively harsh actions from before. He dipped one finger into the arousal that was leaking from your hole and rubbed it on the tip of his dick. You couldn’t help but let out a moan as he pushed himself inside of you. He gave you no time to adjust before he started pounding into you. At your moans of bliss, he pulled one leg over his shoulder, letting him reach deeper into your core. You were left gasping for air as he hit your sensitive spot over and over again, filling you better than anyone ever had. He had set a perfect rhythm, giving you no time to forget what it felt like to be empty, and when you feel yourself getting unbearably close, you began to beg. 

“Jinyoung, I have to come,” you warned, “Please let me come, please, please.”

Your chants were getting repetitive, but you were starting to lose your mind. Jinyoung was effectively ignoring you, and until he placed a hand on your clit, he was sure he was going to deny you your climax. With his hand rubbing feverishly on your clit and his dick hitting you so deeply, it took you just seconds to cum. Moans and shouts of his name and incoherent praises and sentences left your mouth. As your climax ebbed away, Jinyoung kept up his motions, overstimulating you with both his hand and his cock.

He was still pounding into you, his pace unwavering as you scream from pleasure. Your hole was fluttering around his dick, his grunts and groans getting less controlled as he approached his own high. Your lips frantically met his as you felt his hips stutter. The culmination of all of the sexual tension and flirting from four days finally relaxing as you relaxed in his arms. You fell asleep like that, in his arms, cock still inside you. You spent the night there, sure to get questions from the boys in the morning but not really caring about the ramifications. 

When you woke up, the bed was cold beside you and figuring that Jinyoung had an early schedule, you threw on a shirt and walked from your bedroom. Your heart stopped when you saw Jinyoung, eyes intently reading a paper you had come to know well in the past for days. The list. Your list of things that you disliked about Got7. 

“Jinyoung,” you started, tears already welling up in your eyes, “I can explain.”

“Why don’t they just act their age? Their dancing isn’t as good as it used to be? Their music is just average?” Jinyoung listed off, reading from the list that had gotten considerably longer over the past four days.

“It’s not what it looks like, I swear,” you pleaded, trying to approach him, he took a swift step away from you. 

“We work hard, we are good people. I mean, god everything we have done for you this week, and you’re planning on writing this shit? You were gonna crush Yugyeom by writing these lies about the people he considers his family. And god, don’t even get me started on the mind games you played on me. Jesus, I even slept with you,” he exclaimed, his voice getting louder and louder the angrier he became. 

“Jinyoung, I’m -”

“No, don’t apologize. Did you know the boys were trying to get you hired in JYP? We all loved spending time with you so much we-,” Jinyoung took a breath then, not acknowledging the tears that were now streaming down your face, “Just finish out this week and write whatever you goddamn want. Just don’t let the other guys see it.”

And with that he was gone, leaving the list on the table and you to find your own way to their dorm. The nest few days passed just like they had before. The boys doting on you and laughing with you, but Jinyoung wouldn’t even look at you. In fact, he was ignoring you so well that you barely even saw him. You wanted to explain yourself, to tell him that it was all a misunderstanding and that those notes weren’t what you were planning on writing, but you decided to give him some space. Actions spoke louder than words, and when you turned in your piece, describing how you had all of these biases against the group and how all of that changed when you met them and lived with them for a week. You were hoping that they would see it. You were hoping that Jinyoung would read it and realize that you had made bad assumptions about them without knowing who they were. This past week had been a transformative week, and you found yourself waiting for a text, a call, or anything that the boys had acknowledged your piece. But there was nothing. 

It wasn’t until late at night when you had too much wine and were tearing up at the thought of never seeing those boys again when a knock rang out at your front door. You shuffled there, not even bothering to look out of the peephole. You had ordered a pizza and were ready to eat your feelings. What you weren’t expecting was a tight hug from Yugyeom, followed by Mark and then JB and then all of the boys after that. You found yourself standing in front of Jinyoung, the two of you just staring at each other as the boys helped themselves to look around your apartment. 

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, glancing away from him. You couldn’t help but relax when you felt his hands cup your face, and his lips press against yours. The two of you breaking away as Jackson made gagging noises in the background. 

“Admit it,” Jinyoung smiled, grabbing your hand and pulling you towards your own couch where the other sic boys sat, arguing over a movie, “it was the sex that changed your mind about us, wasn’t it?”

You just laughed as Jinyoung smirked, smacking him on the chest before finding a spot to sit down and curl up. Jinyoung’s arm finding the space around your shoulders. You smiled as you took in the boys around you, so thankful for your editor for making you change your mind.

[mlovesstories]

You Know Who You Are Part 7

AN: @spndeanbingo square: mutual pining.  Thanks to @cherryblossom1997 for giving me an idea for a section of this.  

Warnings: abuse, fights, hospitals, blood, talk of abuse

Words: 1700

Summary: YN starts her recovery and sees the doc. 

PS- Should I do anything for reaching 500 followers?  I’m almost there!

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“Hi, YN.  Lame James, how you doing, son?”  James stirred from his restless slumber in the hospital.  YN sat straight up in her bed.

“Terry?  How did you get in here?”  YN wiped her eyes, scared and tired.  

“Get out of here, Terry.”  James growled and stood in front of YN’s bed as a protective measure.

“Boy, you have been hurt so bad, you can’t protect her.”

“I ain’t your son or your boy.  Now leave!”

“See,” he stepped into the room, “Susan and I hated each other when we first met.  Eventually we tolerated each other, but my wife is taken care of and out of the way, so I can have YN to myself.  Move.” As he approached YN, she was silent in shock.  James pulled the emergency cord to alert hospital staff. “You shouldn’t have done that, son.” He threw a vase of flowers at James, glass breaking and spraying everyone.  The older teenager was able to keep on his feet when he saw Terry lunge for YN.  Fists flew until James sat on top of him, the older man’s face buried in glass on the ground. Before they could do anything, James was being pulled off of Terry, and security escorted the attacker out of the room.  

“James, you’re cut!” YN saw blood trickling down his body. She started to stand, but he startled her by yelling for her to sit back down.

“Keep your feet on the bed until they clean this up.”

“I can’t- I can’t believe he-,” she sputtered.

“I know.  Who knows how he found us, but we’re okay.”  Wearing his hospital slippers, he walked slowly on the glass toward YN’s bed.  He held her hands and kissed her forehead.  

“Sir, back up so that I can check your wounds,” a nurse stated. “We’ll have the room swept and vacuumed so that you two won’t be hurt.”

“We already were by the worst man in the world!  Gah!” YN slammed her fist into the bed.  “You people need better security!”  

As the room was cleaned, medical staff assessed their newest injuries.  Once the glass was removed, James settled back into his bed which dawned new sheets.  

“Thank you,” YN said calmly.

“For what?”  James asked.

“Saving me.”

“You’re the one who fights.  I protect you because you’re my little sister.”

Before she could respond to his sweet comment, Jensen and Danneel walked through the door.  

“Sweetie!”  Danneel ran over to YN’s bed.

“Ow!” YN squealed in pain as the mother tried to hug her.

“Sorry!  Are you guys okay?”

“Yeah, but guess who showed up?”  James asked.

“No.  There’s no way,” Jensen guessed. “How could he know where you guys were?” YN saw his demeanor change from relief to anger.  

“We’re fine, Jay.  Come here,” she opened her arms, inviting him to hug her. “How long were we gone?”

“Eight hours.” Danneel answered.  

“Longest eight hours of my life,” Jensen sighed.

“Really?”  YN looked up at him.  

“My daughter and her friend were missing.  Of course.”

“Oh,” she saw how much he loved her in that moment.  “I missed you,” she replied.

As they settled in and the police were called, YN and James took a sigh of relief. After they were interviewed and Terry was taken away, the two teens were evaluated once again.

“Oh, YN.” Jensen said in sorrow. As she was being examined, he saw scratch marks and cuts. With her casted foot and ankle, she slowly maneuvered on her bed so that staff could inspect her wounds.

“I’m okay, Jensen.” She looked up at him. “I’ve been through worse,” YN admitted. Without verbal expression, the adults’ eyes went wide.

“That doesn’t make it right that you need to be here because they’re assholes. Excuse me.” Jensen walked out of the room.

“I’m sorry, Dee. I didn’t mean to make him upset.” YN frowned.

“You didn’t. Terry and Susan did. He just doesn’t like that they did all of this to you. You both don’t deserve any of it.”

“But we made our way through, didn’t we, short stuff?” James smiled. YN weakly turned up her lips in response.

———-

After recovering in the hospital, James went back to school, and YN went home with the Ackles’.

“Stop, James!” YN giggled. “I’m fine,” she told him on the phone.

“You having bad dreams? I wish I could have protected you from-“ he started.

“You did. Now both of them are in jail. How’s school?”

“It’s good. My professors gave me a break since we got hurt.”

“They better, or I’ll come knock some sense into them,” YN sighed.

“DINNER!” Jensen gelled up the stairs.

“Oh, I gotta go. I’ll talk to you later, Jamie.”

“Okay. Love you, YN.”

As they hung up, she tossed her phone on her bed and heard Jensen walking toward her room.

“Ready for your taxi down the stairs?” He smiled.

“Yeah,” YN sighed. She sat up on her bed.

“What’s wrong?”

“Well, let’s see: I was raised by an ass and his wife, got kidnapped with my friend, and then I was attacked in my hospital room.”

“Is that all?” Jensen gave a weary smile. “Don’t give up. You-“

“I’m not, Jensen. It’s just so much.”

“I know. I didn’t mean to make light of it. I’m sorry.”

“They used to throw me on the basement.” She abruptly stated.

“Oh?”

“Yeah. Being back there was hard.”

“I’m sure.” Jensen empathized.

“If I didn’t do something right he would take me down there. This isn’t my first busted ankle. Terry would throw me down the stairs to the basement.”

She went on to describe other things that he did to her. By the end of her story, Jensen was in tears.

“Are you listening to me?” He asked her.

“Yeah,” she didn’t dare look at him.

“YOU deserve to be treated like you are the most important girl in the world. You hear me? Not like how they treated you. You will never feel like that here. I’m going to do my damndest to make sure you never go through that again.”

“Okay,” a whisper all she could muster.

“Do you believe me, Princess?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. Your carriage is here to take you to your throne in the royal dining room.” He grinned.

“Oh, stop!” She held her stomach trying to hold in her giggles. “I’m ready, thank you, Jensen.” She scooted to the side of her bed.

———-

3 Weeks Later

“Hi, YN.” Her psychologist greeted her at his office.

“Hey, doc,” she walked into the private room.

“I’m so very happy to see you. I’m glad you’re okay.” He grinned widely.

“Me too.”

“Have a seat, let’s get started.” He escorted her to the couch.

As they met for the first time since YN and James has been kidnapped, she told her psychologist about all of the same feelings she had years ago while in the care of Susan and Terry.

“I think we should go back to what we used to do. It will help you to work through what you’ve been through.”

“Not the notebook! Please, I hate it!” YN practically cried.

“What? I thought you liked it.”

“But that means I’m not doing any better!” YN grabbed a pillow and held it against herself. “I don’t want to,” she whispered.

“YN, this is not to penalize you. Let’s start this conversation over. Do you remember why I had you write in a notebook?”

“Yeah. It was to tell you how I felt without looking at you because it made me nervous.”

“Right. Do you think you can tell me face-to-face?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Why don’t you write down what you’re feeling this week, and then we can talk about it face to face next time. If you feel that you can’t, you can hand me the notebook, and we talk about something else.”

“Fine. But just so you know, I don’t like it.” She crosses her arms. “Can I type it? I get distracted sometimes because my brain thinks faster than my hand can write.”

“I would like you to try the notebook first,” he weakly smiled.

“Really, doc?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Fine, but it’s only because I like you.”

“Good enough for me, kiddo.”

Abruptly YN changed the subject.

“I told them.”

“What?”

“I told Dee and Jensen about what they did to me.”

“Wow. Do you feel good about it?” The psychologist placed his pen and paper on the table in front of him.

“Yeah. I mean, I’ve been with them for a while.”

“I’m very proud of you.”

“I don’t know what I’m doing.” YN huffed, insecure of her decision all of a sudden.

“What do you mean?”

“I’m so messed up.  I can’t handle all of this.”  YN cried until she was gasping for air, hicupping through her tears.  “It’s too much.” Once YN had stopped wailing, she sniffled.

“I am going to tell you something, and I don’t want you to respond right away, okay?” The doctor looked expectantly at her.

“Okay.”

“It’s really hard to battle, to constantly fight whatever it is.  Depression, anxiety, foster parents.  It gets tiring.  I know you have expressed that every time you feel that you have made progress you think you have gone back to square one because of Terry, Susan, or something else that has happened.  That’s simply not true, though.”

“But-”

“Just listen, please.  I am not saying this just to make you feel better.  What I am about to tell you is fact.  I am a very smart man, and you are a very smart young lady.” He took a deep breath and watched her pick at the fringe on the pillow in front of her.  “You are one of the most resilient people I know.  You have fought and fought.  You’re still here.  I know it is so hard to keep fighting to live a productive life.  You could have given up fighting for yourself a long time ago, but you didn’t.  This newest family has been really good for you.  Are you still listening?” He checked in with her.

“Yeah,” she whispered.

“I don’t want you to give up, so I have an idea…”

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[anghraine]

“per ardua ad astra” - chapter fifteen

Confession: nearly all this chapter has been written for weeks. I wanted it to be longer, but every time I tried to push it forward it kept not working. So I’m letting it fly free, at a mere *squints* 3.9k.

last chapter:

He tightened his grasp on the crystal; through his gloves, it warmed his cool hands. Maybe the lingering warmth of Jyn’s body—even on this march to possible death, he shepherded his thoughts away from that—or maybe something else. He didn’t know. At that, Cassian didn’t know what he believed about the Force at all, beyond the reality of its existence. He reserved his faith for the cause. The dream of liberation, given shape by the Rebellion. And by Jyn. A Jedi could appear before him, and it would matter less than this chunk of rock.

He believed in Jyn. In a way, that mattered more than loving her.

this chapter:

After everything, the universe couldn’t take this from her, too. It couldn’t take everything and everybody she ever loved, except at the very end, and then snatch that last away too. Surely she was allowed one thing of her own, inviolate.

chapters: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen

“What a fucking disaster.”

Zekheret’s eyes went wide. “What are you talking about?”

After two hours of silence from Cassian, Jyn’s patience with everyone but Bodhi had dropped to its nadir. Two hours—it would take him more time than that to get here, even if the meeting were entirely benign. But he would have contacted her, wouldn’t he? His datapad lay beside Jyn, at this moment, but he had both of his comlinks. Whether he had the presence of mind to use them, she didn’t know.

Jyn felt sure, though, that Cassian wouldn’t want her to panic yet, pragmatic as he was. Very probably, Cassian wouldn’t want her to ever panic, least of all for him. Not that he’d said … well, he didn’t think about himself much, beyond his convictions and instincts, and his role as an agent of revolution. If he were dead—something in Jyn recoiled, but she couldn’t deny the possibility—if he were dead, spying on Imperials and carrying codes to the Rebellion had to be the best way to honour his memory.

He would expect her to keep slogging through this charade, carrying on the fight in her own way. As she expected of herself.

So she’d dragged herself to dinner, sitting with her not-friends and trying to look less murderous than she felt. Better than sitting in the quarters and torturing herself.

“Alderaan,” said Efrah.

“Wasn’t it a Rebel planet?” Zekheret asked.

“Stars, you’re an idiot,” she told him. That sentiment, at least, Jyn could wholeheartedly agree with. “There’s no such thing as a Rebel planet. Every planet has loyal Imperial citizens and Rebel scum.”

He frowned, perplexed. Jyn silenced herself with a gulp of protein water.

“Are you sure?”

Efrah rolled her eyes. “Of course I am. You’ve already forgotten that Captain Willix is Alderaanian?”

“Oh.” With an expression of discomfort, he shifted on his bench. “He’s probably not a Rebel.”

“Probably?” She shook her head. “Sure, he might be plotting against the Empire between getting shot by Rebels. Right, Lyr?”

“It’s … possible?” said Zekheret uncertainly.

“No, it isn’t,” said Jyn, letting some of her fury touch her voice. “He’s a hero. He almost died for the Empire.”

“That’s true,” he said, and chewed his lip.

“I can’t believe—” Efrah just gave an exasperated sigh. “Look, Lyr would see it if anyone would. They’re in the same quarters, remember? And he couldn’t even walk until a couple of days ago. I’ll take a wild guess that you haven’t seen him transmitting any files?”

“Of course not.” True enough. She’d transmitted the plans, after all.

“There you go.”

Jyn still had no idea whether she thought Efrah what she seemed, or not. As they’d agreed, it didn’t make a difference in the end; she had no choice but to regard every word with suspicion. Still, if it weren’t all an elaborate trap, Efrah’s bizarre infatuation with Cassian likely had something to do with her faith in his loyalties. Jyn almost hoped they’d escape unscathed just so she could report that to Draven. We were saved by Captain Andor’s bone structure, sir.

“But seriously, Zek,” Efrah went on, “don’t you see how this must look? Maybe if it’d been some Outer Rim backwater, Tatooine or something, but it was a Core planet, a popular one. People will be angry—you have no idea how angry.” Her thin face turned grim. “I don’t know what they were thinking. For every Rebel who died today, we just made ten more.”

He flinched.

“There must be a reason,” said Jyn. “Even Captain Willix said so.”

“Where is he?”

Jyn shrugged. “No idea.” Quadrant G North, Floor 18, Council Room 11872. “Governor Tarkin called all the Alderaanians onboard for some sort of meeting. I’m guessing they’ll be done soon.”

“Governor Tarkin?” repeated Efrah, eyes narrowed. “That’s … that’s bad. Maybe.”

“Now I really don’t understand,” Zekheret said.

Both women ignored him. Jyn, attention solidly fixed on Efrah, ate with little consciousness of her food and waited for her to process whatever was going through her mind. It took a good minute.

“Risk assessment,” Efrah said at last. “It’s got to be.”

Zekheret asked, “What?”

She exhaled through clenched teeth. “Every fucking Alderaanian on this station just lost property, at the least, and probably their homes, families, friends. Their whole world, literally. People have betrayed the Empire over less.” Efrah considered that. “In fact, everyone who has betrayed the Empire did it over less.”

“Well—I guess,” he conceded. “So they think all of them are going to defect?”

“No,” said Efrah, summoning up patience from Force-knew-where, “but Command is going to want to evaluate them, I bet. There are people up there who can read a face like a datapad.”

“But traitors wouldn’t just show it,” he replied, a glimmer of sense in his eye. “I mean, I wouldn’t. Nobody’s going to go around saying ‘fuck the Empire’ to Governor Tarkin, right? Unless they want to die.”

“They won’t be evaluated in person.” Efrah picked up her spoon and began to eat, with considerably less enthusiasm than Jyn had manufactured. “Not primarily, anyway. I bet anything there’s some kind of surveillance.”

Surveillance. Force, of course there would be. A meeting with both Tarkin and the Alderaanian Imperials had seemed terrible enough. But the real danger would be before. Cassian, though, he’d realize that. Wouldn’t he? He was always so much on his guard. But he hadn’t been in that last moment, clinging to her hand and readily carrying her kyber crystal into a high-level meeting on the Death Star. She hadn’t thought of that danger at the time, either, no more than he—

No, he’d realize that much. However overwhelmed in that first moment, he’d recovered himself enough to sneer at the droid, and approximate Willix to that private he’d tugged in his wake. And the Empire had no subtlety about surveillance, after all. Or about anything.

“There’s always people watching, aren’t there?” said Zekheret. “Even the entrance to the prison has two or three cameras.” He brightened up. “The prison! I know how I could help!”

Jyn and Efrah eyed him, united by doubt.

“There are tons of Alderaanians working there. I could spy on them and find out if any of them are plotting against the Empire.”

Efrah coughed. “Uh—”

“I know what you’re going to say. I’m too loud and stupid.”

“I wasn’t going to—”

“But I’m not loud when I don’t talk. On-duty and such,” he said. His expression edged towards sulky. “Nobody ever notices me.”

Not for the first time, Jyn tried to wrap her mind around the fact that he was older than Cassian.

Efrah had already dropped her fork and pressed her fingers to her temples. “I wasn’t going to say that. It’s dangerous, that’s all. Traitors are too nervous to get away with it, most of the time—they’re twitchy and they make stupid mistakes. But they’re desperate, too, and they’ll do anything. I don’t think I’ve ever heard of one who didn’t leave a trail of blood behind him.”

He gulped. “Somebody’s got to stop them, though. If they’re there. We don’t even know that.”

“Governor Tarkin has plenty of people to keep an eye on problems,” said Efrah. “There are spies, strategists, all that sort of thing.”

“You’re sure?” Zekheret asked, brows still knit in what went for thought with him.

“Yes, I’m sure. And I’m sure he knows that there are people who might be mad, or go mad, over this. You don’t need to get in the way of some crazed Alderaanian with a blaster, okay?”

His features smoothed over, the customary smile reappearing. For a reason that Jyn couldn’t begin to fathom, it heightened his faint resemblance to Cassian.

Grinning, Zekheret replied, “Sounds like you want me after all.”

“What?” Efrah looked both appalled and shocked. “Speaking of crazy—”

The grin grew into a smirk. “Suddenly, you care an awful lot about me staying intact. I bet you can’t stand the thought of anything damaging a gorgeous guy like me.”

At another time, Jyn might have been genuinely entertained by either Zekheret’s impenetrable smugness or Efrah’s incredulity. In this one, she felt no more than a tickle of amusement in some remote corner of her mind. She’d suddenly remembered the message that Cassian left on her datapad all those weeks … no, days ago. His comlink, and the codes to send if either landed in a difficult situation. She’d committed those codes to a much more permanent memory than the Imperial ones. 975 for clear, 615 for uncertain. And 248 for disaster.

Beside her, Efrah picked up an inflatable muffin and threw it straight at Zekheret’s head. “It’s called friendship, you ass.”

Surreptitiously, Jyn checked the comlink at her wrist. The tiny digital screen showed nothing.

Laughing, Zekheret caught it in mid-air. “A friendship muffin? Is that what we’re doing now?” He turned the muffin in his hand. “Um, I’m still hungry, actually. Am I allowed to eat it? Because—”

“Fuck off,” she said.

“Right.” Jyn got to her feet, doing her best not to fiddle with the comlink. It all but burned on her wrist. “I’m feeling a bit unwell, so I’ll just leave you two to your ... friendship. Have a fun night.”

Efrah looked tragic.

“Sure thing,” said Zekheret, with a wink that thankfully eradicated all trace of Cassian from his face.

“I’m going to clobber you on the mat,” Efrah informed him. “Yeah, should be fun.”

He beamed. “I guess you’ve got to let out that tension one way or another.”

“Keep on going, and you won’t have to wait for a mad Alderaanian to kill you—”

Ignoring them, Jyn tossed aside the remains of her meal and hurried to her quarters. Cassian’s. Whatever it was. Regardless, it felt almost like the first time she had entered, exhausted and anxious and desperate. With the closet of supplies shut, it looked very much the same, too. Stark, pristine, flawlessly neat: a place altogether empty of signs that any actual beings made any sort of home here.

No more so on his side than her own, however. As usual, Cassian—who remained inflexibly painstaking as to their cover and fastidious in himself—had adjusted everything before they left that morning. He still seemed convinced by the day that disaster might follow if each centimeter of the room were not restored to exact military correctness. Just as it was now: a stronger sign of Cassian’s presence than any mark of character could be.

Half in a daze, she walked over and slid his datapad under her clothes, alongside the knives and extra blasters. The clothes were her uniforms, made to exactly fit her body, and the weapons the ones Cassian ordered for her—this was their space, as far as any space on the Death Star could be. It would not look one iota different if Cassian were actually here, sulking on his bed with a quarter-dose of analgesics down his throat.

Jyn’s eyes burned all over again. Her hands, too, where her fingers clenched into fists. She hadn’t hauled him this far to lose him now, to something so unbearably stupid.

Horrible beyond description, yes. But Efrah had been right. It was so very, very stupid. Almost as stupid as Cassian dying in Willix would be. To die in the course of spying was one thing, however awful; to die for something that didn’t even follow from his activities as a spy was just nonsense. It couldn’t happen, not to Cassian. She’d seen his chest, unscarred but for the obvious—the same with his face and hands. And this might be the end?

Jyn assured herself, yet again, that it wouldn’t, that she knew it wouldn’t, that the worst possibility was not possible at all. She knew the truth, but didn’t need to repeat it to herself. 

The real truth was that the people who cared most for her always left, in some fashion or another. They chose separation, voluntary separation, and presented it as the expression of their love, without giving her any choice in the matter. Without giving her even an explanation, until long after the fact.

Cassian had explained himself. He almost always did, except on Eadu. Even then, he’d provided a false one, rather than not bothering with anything at all. And he’d come back so many times, every time, and if she’d known his faith and respect for little more than a month, that was a month more than she had from anyone else. He had explained this last departure as well as he could, too—she understood, she saw the necessity for all of them, and particularly for her—she—

After everything, the universe couldn’t take this from her, too. It couldn’t take everything and everybody she ever loved, except at the very end, and then snatch that last away too. Surely she was allowed one thing of her own, inviolate.

Raw exhaustion swept over her, so heavy that she felt light-headed with it. Her leg gave a convulsive twitch, and everything out of her direct line of sight grew blurrier. Struggling to kick off her boots, she sat heavily on a bed, not paying much mind to which. But it seemed suitable that it was Cassian’s.

Once again, she missed her crystal, while regretting nothing. She wanted it around her neck, and wanted it safely with Cassian—safely?—as some fragment of herself. She’d gone back for him, too, protected him as far as she could, from Jedha to here, she’d … she didn’t want him to be alone, down there. Literally alone: fine, she couldn’t help that. But not cut adrift from the galaxy, with no one to mourn anything but the valuable operative or admired leader. She couldn’t let him think that. He might be those to others, but not Jyn. He was her partner, her—her—her person.

It sounded ridiculous, even to her.

Undoubtedly it would sound even more so to Cassian, who could make anything seem reasonable and right. And that in Basic; Force knew how he sounded in his native tongue.

For herself, though, it was no less true for its inanity. At her most articulate, without tiredness and fear pressing on her, Jyn didn’t think she could have found any better term for it. Cassian was a person beyond this role or that, beyond the Rebellion, and the person she cared about the most, who also cared the most about her. She didn’t need to wrap it in words to feel the importance of that.

Jyn lay down on his bed, too weary to think anything of it beyond the fact that she wanted to be there. Curling up, she turned her face into his pillow and closed her eyes.

By some grace of the universe, she neither tossed or turned, nor terrorized herself with nightmares. She slept easily and pleasantly, only jarred awake by some slight motion near her hand.

Her eyes flew open. But the room was entirely empty. Pulse picking up, Jyn blinked sleep away and tried to figure out what must be very obvious—

The comlink vibrated again. A message, not a call.

Jyn caught her breath. At this point, she couldn’t even blame herself for the don’t be Bodhi, don’t be Bodhi that stampeded through her mind. Forcing herself to exhale, she twisted her wrist so that the comlink fell right before her eyes, then activated the screen with her other hand.

It flashed a confirmation request—yes, yes, fine—and a sender code—Cassian’s, that was Cassian—and then, at last, the message.

6 1 5.

He was alive.

Cassian was starting to wish that Tarkin would just show up and be done with it. He and Tagge had managed to discourage anything like open sedition, but they couldn’t discourage grief. He didn’t try, didn’t want to, it was only—he didn’t deal well with weeping, except when entirely divided from himself, and they never stopped. Even the quieter second hour passed in a blur of vacant faces and stammered languages and shaking bodies, all against the white noise of that ceaseless sobbing.

Now and then, he thought it might seriously drive him mad. Cassian wanted the sound to go, and everything else too—but the sound was worst—and of course it didn’t and couldn’t. He should be the one to leave, but he couldn’t get away. There was no escaping each other, however much he wanted it.

Desperately, Cassian wanted Jyn, though she was Jyn and not a crutch. He couldn’t help it. He wanted her as herself, reflective and furious and solemn and unrelenting. And reliable, which sounded ridiculously tepid, but it mattered. She was just about everything that could matter in another person. He’d already leaned on her too much, but even so, he occasionally let himself entertain the idea of calling her comlink. Not for anything foolish, just to hear her even voice cutting through the clamour. But that was foolish in itself.

Cassian sent off the silent code, instead, for unsure of risk, no emergencies. He could give her some relief, if not himself.

“—sir, I know, but—what’s the point, if there’s nothing to go home to?”

He focused on the boy in front of him. Older than Zelin, perhaps closer to his own age. Definitely a man, but they all seemed—

“The galaxy is not Alderaan alone,” he said sternly. “There are countless beings on countless worlds who depend on the Empire’s strength, and suffer in this endless war.”

This one, a sergeant, bit his lip but gave no other sign of emotion. A danger. Perhaps to others, perhaps himself. It was the quiet ones that Cassian worried about, insofar as he did at all.

“I know. But they’ve still got their world.”

“Listen to me,” said Cassian. “Our planet is gone. Nothing can change that; we can only discover the reason it had to happen. But Alderaan was not just its soil. It was its languages, cultures, principles—the people were always the truest Alderaan. Now, we are the only Alderaan. Every one of us who draws breath keeps some part of it alive. That is the point, sergeant.”

The other man gulped. “But what about the ones who aren’t … good? Most of the survivors, aren’t they going to be criminals and Rebels and such?”

“I don’t advise you to concern yourself with traitors,” Cassian said coolly. “They aren’t just betraying the Empire, you understand. Alderaanians are a people of peace. Those ones have turned from what makes us who we are.”

At this, the sergeant nodded thoughtfully and drifted away. The fact that they were soldiers on the Death Star appeared to have altogether eluded him.

“A people of peace, are we?”

The thud of General Tagge’s boots had already grown familiar. Not a man much given to

subtlety.

Cassian’s brow quirked. “As it were, sir.”

For several long moments, they stood together in silence—long to Cassian, anyway. Then the general said,

“How many here answer to you? Directly.”

“About a quarter,” replied Cassian, taken aback. “Maybe a third. The men stationed in the quadrant’s prison.”

“Ah, explains it.” At his open bewilderment, Tagge gave a shrug. “You take a remarkable interest in the … general welfare, captain.”

Cassian’s entire life had been dedicated to the general welfare. He managed a respectful inclination of his head.

“I don’t want to lose good men because they’re shocked and upset where almost anyone would be.”

“Not you,” observed Tagge.

Go away.

It was a childish thought, indulgent. But Cassian just wanted everyone to go away and be quiet and let him crawl into his bed for a good few days. He’d never been one to turn his face from reality, he … only for a little while. He’d never been quite this tired, either.

“I came from nothing, sir,” he said at last, struggling to care. Jyn, he reminded himself. Jyn, and the codes, and Leia, and Bodhi. And he wanted to live. “I was nothing, until the Empire provided me with opportunity. I have not lived on Alderaan in a long time—it is different for me, I think.”

“I see.” The general’s face cleared further. “You might be the only one here who did not lose your world today.”

I lost it twenty years ago.

“Probably so,” said Cassian. “I don’t mean that I am not Alderaanian. Only that it has been the people, and not any particular place, for many years now. That much was true. I am doing what I can for the Alderaan I know.” He looked thoughtful. “I might also say, general, that while the event is, ah, a disturbance, I am hardly shocked.”

Tagge studied him with shrewd, narrowed eyes. “You had been informed?”

“Not as such.” Cassian visibly hesitated. “My orders, sir, come from Commander Tor. Of—”

“I’m familiar with the commander,” said Tagge, the probing glance settling. “And his division. I understand.”

Hopefully. It was perhaps the only time in Cassian’s life that he wished he could just announce that he was a spy.

“I was not told much in particular, but enough to guess that something was coming,” Cassian went on. “Something monumental, in relation to Alderaan. So this was not altogether a surprise. That helps, I’m sure.”

Not that he’d noticed it helping, but who knew, really? Maybe, if he had stronger attachments to his homeworld, if he and Jyn hadn’t waited in dread for days, he would have shattered apart with Alderaan.

Or maybe not. Leia had evidently kept her head and her priorities straight. They were trained to that, to the Rebellion above all. Not in itself, precisely, but what it meant, what it stood to achieve. The dream of freedom, and the countless tiny chances and hopes that sustained it. Liberation for the galaxy in its entirety, system upon system and sector upon sector, came before any single person’s life or family or home, always.

Always, always, always.

He didn’t imagine what the choice had been like for Leia. A near impossibility, or simple for all its horror—Cassian didn’t know. For himself, the metal plates of the floor felt a bit steadier under his feet, more real. He was Cassian Andor of the Rebellion, sometimes a soldier and always a spy, a captain who had gone rogue because he believed it necessary and believed in Jyn Erso. And once, long ago, he had also been a refugee of Vaesda on Alderaan, a murdered city become a murdered world. That was the Empire, beginning to end, what every willing agent of it upheld.

“I imagine,” said General Tagge. He was still ashen.

Something clattered outside. People, more people. They both glanced towards the entrance.

“That’ll be our lord and master,” Tagge muttered. He clasped Cassian’s shoulder as he headed to the door. “Keep an eye on these fools, Willix.”

“Yes, sir,” Cassian said blandly.

If he’d left well enough alone, he wouldn’t have to string together more lies now. He could just cower in a corner somewhere, like so many others were doing, and look shell-shocked. That might not be much of a stretch. He’d be as safe as anyone in this room could be. Still, if he left other Alderaanians to get themselves killed in unthinking rage, even Imperial ones, he’d be—

Not them. Jyn had been wrong about that. But not as much better as he should be. Now, he could say that he’d done what he could.

The door opened, and a tall, bony man strode through, flanked by two aides and a half-dozen stormtroopers.

Governor Tarkin.

[keepyourpantsongohan]

Ayesha Liveblogs Attack on Titan S1

Confession: In the search for this show I accidentally looked up ‘gsnk’ instead of ‘snk’ and ended up watching a cute show about teens who make shoujo manga and I don’t think this will be as fun

They seem really dedicated to attacking these titans when I haven’t really seen them do anything but stand around

It is possible that they’re eating people

“We have the peace of mind of livestock” damn Eren that’s a lot of existential dread for a ten-year-old

I don’t trust this calm family setting for a minute at least half of you are about to die

“When all’s said and done the government’s policies are a reflection of our fear” this #discourse is a little too on point

I have a lot of questions about the biology of these giants

Eren’s prophetic dreams are all full of yikes

“Too much is handed to us!” Why are you complaining about people giving up their rations for you

These kids can’t be older than 12 what exactly is the age of enlistment

“A Dim Light Among Despair,” sounds like my life story tbh

“What’d you wipe on me?” “Don’t worry, just my trust.” What the fuck Jean

Reiner sounds comforting bc he shares a voice actor with my garbage son Jellal bless him

I know it’s by nature of the anime formula but they did a really good job hyping me up for Eren the underdog

“Let’s see some hustle,” he said, from his position atop a horse

“Built like a daffodil,” I knew I was going to love Armin

Just once when a woman is asked who taught her how to fight I would like her to say “I taught myself??” bc no one ever asks how these boys are taught to fight

Jean after Eren’s speech, bitterly: 10/10 homoerotically inspired

Ffjghkfhgjal is this what just happened?

Mikasa: Don’t get yourself killed

Eren: Don’t tell me what to do

!! They’re answering my biology questions about the titans

I wasn’t expecting Eren to get Edward Elric’d so quickly 

“You’re so gonna have to marry me when this is over” pray for the #tinygay Christa

Lmao @ Mikasa’s parents being too awkward to give her the sex talk

Whoa this is some fucked up shit apparently only white people survived and now any minorities are fair game for human trafficking?

Yikes Tiny Eren escalated to killing these human traffickers really quickly I guess titans aren’t the only people he’s ready to murder

Well, I suppose this explains why Mikasa was living with the Jaegers

That is not how you put a scarf on another person Eren

Has Jean been harbouring an unspoken crush on Mikasa for three years what a disaster

“Nothing left for them to take from me,” said Mikasa, as if her other best friend Armin wasn’t chasing after her as she speaks 

“Why do I keep getting up?” same Mikasa same 

Did the titan that ate Eren develop his personality or smth 

Update: that seems to be pretty much exactly what happened

That was some nice symbolism Mikasa but now Armin doesn’t have a weapon

Marco is so sweet, every time he is on screen my heart is warm 

“Listen man, what you said about me being a leader and all; Don’t talk to me like that again, alright?,” said Jean, literally giving an order

This shit is so wild how is Eren able to take titans over

“Did the man hear what I had to say? Any of it?” “Yes sir. As a matter fact I think he heard all of it. Look at him. That’s a face at peace.” Captain Levi immediately establishing himself as a fan favourite lmao 

I guess Titans give birth by exploding out of each other’s backs? Yikes

“You’re all gonna die!” Ghgjkhgkjhg it’s funny that Eren’s crazed murderous muttering finally has some consequences 

The fact that Jean envisions a situation where word gets out about Eren being a Titan as one where he, Reiner, Bertholdt and Annie are standing beside the Team Eren, on the opposite side of the angry mob, is the exact reason I like Jean 

“As things stand, my health is irrelevant.” Damn, what a mood 

I love that Eren and Mikasa trust Armin implicitly what a healthy friendship

Dot Pixys sounds like the name of an adorable fairy not a military commander

“Humanity required an enemy greater than itself just to survive.” But only the white people though??

“Please sir, I’m not competent enough,” me too Captain Wine-o 

I buy into this organization of society much more than the structures in The 100 because their post-apocalyptic world actually has science and not theocracy

Can’t tell if Mikasa views Eren as a brother or is in love with him like I lean towards brother but more than once I’ve seen characters go “X is like a sibling to me,” [proceeds to make out]

Well this mission has taken an abrupt turn, I wonder if this is like all of those werewolf myths where they say you’ll turn on the person you care about most 

“Go save the man you love.” “It’s not like that.” 👀👀👀👀👀👀👀

Some of these titans are just creepy little man babies

Get u a squad that’s as ride or die as these cadets, Annie, Connie and Marco were all willing to put themselves in the line of fire so Jean could get back to the wall

“Don’t even start, man!” Marco said ‘ur not gonna sass me 4 saving ur life’

Again, genuinely love how Armin and Mikasa are the go-to people to trust with taking care of Eren; that’s friendship baybeeeeeeeeee

“What’s the matter, can’t catch me? You never will with that attitude!” [Immediately swallowed by another Titan] Poor Team Mitabi they were trying their best

I can’t believe they killed Jean’s boyfriend oh no

“I wanna become a member of the scouts, and slaughter every Titan that crosses my path.” You know Eren, it would probably be easier for people to trust you if you didn’t make murderous declarations in a half-crazed snarl all the time

Levi’s voice is so confusing to me bc it’s Yamato’s so I’m instinctively pleased by it but he looks so angry 

“Does it hurt?” “Yeah.” “Describe it to me.” Kinkshame Zoe Hange 

Sneaky little scouts beating Eren up to get custody of him

Oruo seems like the Gilderoy Lockhart of his team

“It’s like I’ve wandered into a sanctuary for crackpots.” I’m pretty sure that’s exactly what happened 

“I think I should hear about these experiments in greater detail,” Zoe adores Eren now lmao

This cloak thing is another time in which a disguise is ineffective because you’re so tiny everyone knows which one you are

Maybe it is not a great idea to touch the burning remnants of dead bodies Jean

I’m so proud of all the baby rookies putting on their bravest faces

Is it really an interaction between Jean and Eren if they do not grasp at one another while yelling passionately in each other’s faces

Honestly my hope is that a Team 7-esque love triangle develops between Eren, Mikasa and Jean where nobody’s sure who is in love with each other

Armin tried to free the other horse before his impending doom I love him

“Why are they doing this?” THAT IS ALSO MY QUESTION ARMIN

Yikes I guess the female titan is Armin’s mother maybe??

“I’m still all about number one,” but it appears that ‘number one’ is actually ‘Marco’

Reiner saving my damn life with his unexpected survival

“You’re as noble as the steeds you tame,” kfhgkfdjshgkfdhg Reiner that’s not how you compliment a lady

“She’s an angel!” “A goddess!” “One day my wife.” Does everyone who meets Christa want to marry her

“I’m not going to start a mutiny; not yet anyway,” Jean and Armin’s relationship is so weird and I love it

“Take a look at these big ass trees,” Captain Levi, 2013 (A quote that is made even more beautiful by the fact his voice actor is Tiny Tree Man)

This entire expedition has been a bucketful of yikes

[Bites hands empathetically] “Consider this our way of apologizing.” Why does everyone in this show talk so fucking weirdly

The Levi squad is embodying ride or die right now Eren is their baby

On one hand, is it really necessary to be leveling gendered insults at a Titan? On the other hand, they’re right that every action up until this moment has been a bitch move 

I think the Armin’s mother theory goes out the window bc he definitely would’ve noticed if his mother was hanging out in the military my next guess is Annie 

“To rise above monsters, we have to abandon our humanity,” Do you though, Armin? Do you? 

There’s really no point in getting attached to anyone in this show

“We all get that you love him but try not to act crazy.” Levi keeps up on the teen romance gossip

Oh no the Levi squad have families waiting at home for them

Gkghkjhg this exchange:

Jean: Ever occur to you that we have chosen a profession with a 30% survival rate?

Armin: Actually Jean, my work-life motto is “no thots, head empty” 

Man this show does not give you a second to breathe, as soon as you accept the deaths of everyone involved in this mission, they jettison the bodies ahhhhhh

“I can’t help but feel she’s far too young to be thinking about marriage” This is even worse Petra had a thing for Levi he is carrying so much guilt 

Also based on his reactions to her death and body, he might’ve liked her too?? Or at least felt especially fond of her :(((((

“The Scouts’ custody of Eren was summarily revoked.” Eren is riding a fine line between prisoner and child of divorce

Lmao @ Armin telling Annie ‘labelling people as good and bad is bullshit but you’re still an asshole if you don’t help us’

Armin feels guilty about guilt tripping Annie immediately after he succeeds

“It’s not going to hold up under close scrutiny.” I’M SCREAMING JEAN IS COSPLAYING EREN

Oh shit my theory was right Annie is a secret titan what the fuck

If Annie can’t go underground why can Eren? Isn’t it equally disabling to his Titan defenses?

“You’re sure in a talkative mood today.” “So what if I am [talkative]? Doesn’t mean I was talking to you,” said Levi to Eren, in an otherwise completely empty room 

Wild how much of their military strategy is dependent on this specific group of 15-year-olds 

Eren’s performance anxiety is not uncommon for his age, though admittedly would be more often applied to like, tests or romance, instead of the ability to turn into a 20 foot titan 

This battle is going to be responsible for a lot of civilian casualty

None of this is going to work in Eren’s favour during his tribunal

“I don’t expect you to forgive me,” is the implication here that Annie’s dad turned her into a titan??? While it’s also implied that Eren’s dad did the same to him??? Why does everyone’s dad turn them into a titan!! WHAT IS THE REASON

“If it’s that easy for the fight to turn us all into monsters, then maybe we don’t deserve to win.” Jean correctly discerns that the military, as an institution, sucks 

What an ominous note to end on at least Connie, Jean, Reiner and co. are alright