#amnesiac!cassian

[pellucid-constellations]

If It All Fell (9)

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: If it all fell apart—if you forgot who you were—would you love him again? Would the bond guide you back? Azriel doesn't know if that uncertainty is one he can bear.

Word count: 3k

Warnings: Angst, pining

a/n: Thank you so much for sticking around. I had to reread this entire series to write this part and it made me remember how much I love sharing it with you all ��� Italics indicate memories (oooooo👀).

Series Masterlist (all parts ♡)

~~

One of the many downsides to losing your memory was your lack of card game knowledge. An inconsequential tidbit when you took a step back and evaluated the hardships that plagued you, but a fact that was currently causing you a massive headache and a massive loss, all the same. 

“This is just completely unfair,” you huffed, tossing your cards on the table and leaning back in your chair. “I can barely even remember what you said the rules were.” 

“Hardly my fault, sweetheart. I gave you a run down before we started,” Cassian slyly grinned. 

You scoffed. “There were over fifteen steps to this game! And I feel like you made up half of them!” 

“While that would definitely be something he’d pull,” Mor piped in, an accusatory glance in Cassian’s direction. “He’s innocent, this time. This is just a really complicated game.” 

“Oh yeah, great. Make the amnesiac play the complicated game so she’ll lose. That's really classy, Cassian. Great sportsmanship.” 

Cassian had the gall to look offended, a hand placed at his heart. “You used to be great at this game, I’ll have you know. You won every time. We banned you, actually.” 

“You banned me from playing a card game?” 

Azriel, who had been fighting off a laugh with his tongue against his cheek, spoke up from beside you. “Very strictly banned, as well. For the last hundred years. You’re lucky we’re letting you play now.” 

Your mouth dropped open in the most wounded expression you could manage, mirth dancing in your eyes as you turned your head to catch the shadowsinger’s blush-tinted cheeks. 

Things were… good between the two of you. The same, but good, mostly because you had refrained from even alluding to his mate. When you didn’t talk about her, or look at anything that might have belonged to her, or question Azriel on the sadness in his eyes, he stayed glued to your side. It was a wonderful friendship the two of you were cultivating—one built on one-sided secrets where the answers were locked in your brain. 

“What could I have possibly done to get banned from a card game for a hundred years?” you gaped.

Azriel’s wings rustled behind him, unfurling to cloak your back in warmth. He laughed. “You cheat.” 

“I cheat?” 

“I wouldn’t call it cheating, exactly,” Mor defended, sliding her cards face-down on the table in favor of the snack plate in the center. “Not when it’s not your fault.” 

“Bullshit!” Cassian exclaimed, fist coming down in a loud bang. “She knows how to control her magic. She chooses to use it during the game and that makes it cheating.” 

Mor pointed an accusing finger in Azriel’s direction. “And what about his shadows, then? You’ve never had a problem with him playing, oh great game warden.” 

Cassian narrowed his eyes as if looking at Azriel for the first time. “Brother, you cheat as well?” 

In the most jovial tone you’d heard Azriel take, he refuted, “I absolutely do not.” 

That had spiraled into another argument you were not part of, and you took the opportunity to pick your cards back up and attempt to run through the rules again. It was a game of chance, really, but it was also a game of wit and that wasn’t your strongest suit at the moment. 

Maybe if you tried a little bit harder—

“Okay, your turn, y/n,” Azirel called you out of your fruitless thoughts. “Just try to pick one.” 

Your lips twisted to the side as you examined your cards and looked up at your opponent. Cassian appeared quite average, no shifting eyes or telling sighs. He was very good at this game, allegedly. 

You flicked your eyes back down to your cards, but, no—something didn’t feel right about that. 

You looked back up at Cassian, and something shifted. 

Something… seemed off. Like he was—

“You’re lying,” you stated as if it were a well-known fact. “You’re lying so hard right now. So that means I should take this and…” 

Your last words trailed off as you slapped a pair of cards on the table. You looked up to Cassian with a smug expression, the general narrowing his eyes and swiping his own cards aside. He scoffed, and then scoffed again, the second time paired with his arms across his chest. 

“Yeah? And how would you know?” he challenged. 

Your head jutted back in disbelief. You gazed around the table but none of your opponents offered the same look. “Are you kidding? It’s practically pouring off of you.” 

“What is?” Azriel softly asked. 

“His lie!” you exclaimed, hands raised in shock. 

“How so?” Mor posed. 

“All around him.” You shook your hand in the direction of the General, making some form of a circle. “He’s just a terrible liar and you can see it. I thought you all said he was undefeated?” 

“I was,” Cassian huffed out with a laugh. “Against everyone other than you.” 

His words sobered up your competitive mood, the rest of the table having come to a conclusion you only just realized. Azriel sat beside you with bated breath, tenseness apparent in the coil of his wings and shadows. Mor tried and failed to hide her smile behind her lips. Cassian didn’t even attempt to hide; his smile was vibrant without a hint of defeat. 

“Does this mean—” 

“Yes!” Mor gave a small cheer. “Something is happening in that beautiful brain of yours and you’re coming back to us!”

Coming back to them. 

As if you weren’t sitting right there. 

“We should ask her questions,” Cassian boomed with another laugh. “See what else is in there.” 

“Oh! We should. Think of something, Cass.” 

“What about…” 

The air around you felt suffocating as those at the table began talking as if you weren’t there. Any joy you felt at the revelation was washed, evaporated—creating a somber resolve that made your skin feel dull. 

“Maybe ask her things associated with her magic. Maybe that’s coming through first,” Mor offered. Walnut shells and wine glasses lay empty and scattered beside discarded cards. 

“I don’t think—” Azriel’s response was muted by a buzzing in your ears. 

It would never be enough. You were a full person sitting before them, but you weren’t. You weren’t the person they expected—not the person they wanted. You had been stuck in this limbo for weeks now, living under pitying eyes and hopeful half-smiles that never met their eyes. Secrets were kept because they hoped you—the real you—would eventually return and save them from sharing the hard things. 

You blinked away the dryness in your eyes. 

“We should get Rhys. He might find an opening now that her magic is—” 

“I’m right here,” you interrupted, the gravel of your tone barely audible below Cassian’s excited tone. The table fell silent, anyway. “I don’t know why you all insist on speaking about me and not to me.” 

Mor’s voice was still light as she replied, “Y/n, we don’t mean—” 

“You don’t mean what?” you laughed, the sound bordering hysterical. You caught Azriel turning his head down towards you in your peripheral. You ignored it. “You don’t mean to make me feel like half a person? Like a ghost? Because I’m right here and I have been for weeks but you all are so concerned with what I’m going to be in some undetermined amount of time that you seem to forget I’m alive now.” 

Cassian’s lips parted to speak, but words continued to spill from your mouth. “I mean, I wasn’t even allowed to know about most of my life until recently. You all expect me to get better instantly, making decisions and keeping secrets as if this isn’t part of my life—as if when I get my memories back… if I get them back… all these weeks will just disappear.

“But I’ve been here,” you stressed. Your fingers were tingling and your neck felt hot. “I’ve been here and all of you—you all talk over my head. I finally get some semblance of myself back and all you can think about is what more I can do. You don’t care about me. You care about some version of me that I’ve never met.” 

You rose from the table, hands coming down harshly as you stood. Mor quickly mimicked your action, but you held a hand up, dismissing the person who had been your safe space at the start of this mess—at the start of your memory, really. 

“I need—I need,” you choked. Dim colors and minute vibrations emanated from each person in the room, making your head hurt as you looked at them. You didn’t have the capacity to analyze that development. “I need to be alone.” 

You heard yourself mutter an apology as you went, unsure what exactly it was for. Your feet stumbled out of the room, getting stuck in cracks and shuffling on marble flooring. A small prickle of embarrassment made you flinch as you went, but it was nothing compared to the harrowing emptiness that guided you out to the balcony. 

Maybe it would be better if you spent your time alone—at least until you got your memories back. You loved being around everyone, but even that was a half-truth. You hadn’t even met everyone that was supposed to be in your life.

Gripping the railing of the balcony, you sucked in a deep breath, greedy for any kind of reprieve. A soft wind met the heat of your cheeks, but it did little to soothe you. If you could just become who they wanted you to be… if you could just know everything they wanted you to know. 

Everything felt like too much. 

You had so little to go off of, but somehow that was to your detriment. 

You thought the first sign of your old self would have been a cause for celebration, but instead, it was only a call for more. More, more, more—you weren’t enough now. 

You heard your name in the wind, a soft sound that carried delicately past your ears. For reasons you could not place, the single word sent anger pulsing in your veins. 

You whipped around, unsurprised to see Azriel standing beneath the archway to the house, his expression unguarded and his shadows reaching and reaching and reaching towards you. 

He seemed to recoil at your furious gaze. 

“What?” you asked, still breathless from the way panic had taken control of your chest. “What, Azriel?” 

But words seemed to fail him as he stood there. He blinked more than necessary, shaking his head and then righting it, unsure of the direction he wanted to take. 

It infuriated you. 

“What could you have to say?” you instigated, and the harsh words made you sick. “You of all people treat me as a stranger. You say we’re close—that we are the closest of anyone—but you keep secrets, Azriel. You keep secrets and you make it impossible to get to know you. What happens if I never get my memory back, huh?”

The notion of that reality set the Shadowsinger into motion. “Don’t say that,” he almost begged, desperation lost behind gritted teeth. “We are still looking—” 

“Would it be that terrible for you? Truly, Azriel. You slink around me, afraid to share things I don’t even know are there! How am I—What am I supposed to do if this is just me now?” You tugged at your hair as frustration captured your voice. You hadn’t meant to say any of this, hadn’t planned on even hinting at your displeasure, but something snapped today. 

Something snapped and there was nothing you could do to cope with the breakage. Because you were a stranger to everyone—most of all yourself. 

“That won’t happen,” Azriel attempted to reassure, taking small steps towards your pacing figure. “We are going to figure this out and everything will be—” 

“It won’t!” 

You screamed. 

You hadn’t meant to. 

Azriel stopped in his tracks. 

“It won’t be fine, Azriel.” Back to a normal volume, your voice sounded hoarse. “I can’t keep living like this—like a ghost. It’s been weeks and there are no leads. All I have now is this hint of my powers that I’m not even sure how to parse out. They don’t make sense. None of this makes sense.” 

Your eyes were glued to your feet as Azriel’s words broke at the syllables. “I know.” 

“None of you will want me if I can’t be her.” 

“I will always want you,” he was quick to respond. 

When you raised your head, the stray tears held captive by your waterline fell. Azriel stared back at you in earnest but it felt incomplete. 

“You keep things from me still,” you said, words thick in your throat. “It’s like you’re waiting for her—for someone else. With Mor and them, it’s different. It feels different with you.”

Azriel whispered a broken rendition of your name. The color you saw reflecting from his shoulders was sharp against the backdrop of the dark house, and you had no idea its significance, but something within you told you it wasn’t going to get you what you so desperately wanted. 

“Stop,” you begged, chin wobbling. “Stop… formulating what you’re going to say to me. This is worse, now that I have my magic. I see your every indecision around me.” 

Azriel’s expression pinched and the color fizzled out as he stepped forward and held your face in his textured hands. Your anger dissipated as he titled your head up to meet his gaze, replaced by the uncertainty that often mingled with regret when he was near. 

What you were regretting, you didn’t know. 

“You are the one sure thing in my life,” he confessed. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I’ve made you feel this way—that we all have. I—I have been keeping something from you. I’ve been afraid it would be too much, that I would lose you if you knew. But I’m only losing you now.” 

You gave no reply, unblinking, short breaths escaping you. 

Azriel licked his lips and slid his hands down until his thumbs rested along your jaw. 

“You have asked about my mate.” Discomfort panged within your chest as he spoke, but you needed to hear this. Azriel closed his eyes for a pause, brows furrowed, before he met your eye once more. “It’s you.” 

Your shock came second to the blinding pain creeping up your neck. It fought with you, edging closer and closer to your brain before it fell behind your eyes and shattered all comprehensible thought. Another beat and hazel eyes were lost to darkness. 

You heard your name, felt your body go slack and arms brace your fall, but then there was laughing. You were laughing, but the sound wasn’t coming from your body. 

“We have to go back,” you heard yourself admonish in a breathless tone. “They’re all waiting for us.” 

“Let me be alone with my wife for a while longer.” 

Figures materialized in the dark space of your mind.

A purple dress. 

A ring around your finger. 

Flowers woven into the lapel of a jacket. 

“I have only been your wife for about….” you saw yourself gaze up to the ceiling of a room you did not recognize in feigned contemplation. “An hour?” 

Azriel bit back a grin and nuzzled his face into your neck. “But you have been my mate for my entire life.” 

“That’s not even true. It snapped a few months ago.”

You stood in the corner of the room as the scene unfolded, feeling like a stranger in some iteration of your life. You looked so at ease, wrapped up in the man who had caused you so much inner turmoil over the last few weeks. 

He had said you were mates. 

Was this…

“That’s not how mates work, my love,” Azriel hummed closing the distance between the skin of your cheek and his lips. “When we were created, we were created for each other. There has never been a time in my life that I did not belong to you.” 

You watched yourself smile—watched yourself curl your fingers in your mate’s hair and press your forehead to his. “Gods, you’re the biggest sap.” 

Azriel laughed. The sound was light and free and everything you had sought after these past few weeks. But you heard it here as he laid with you in his arms. 

“I can’t believe you married me,” he whispered, his nose brushing yours. 

“Of course I married you.” 

A pause. 

“Do you think you would have married me if things hadn’t worked out—after Day I mean.” 

From the corner of the room, you analyzed how your body seemed to recoil at the question. 

“Azriel, nothing could have kept me from you. Not even that monster from Day. If I hadn’t gotten my memory back—if I had to live with forgetting you—” Azriel shuddered, taking a long breath through his nose. You only brushed your fingers softly against his temple. “—I would have found you again. It probably would have been a pain in the ass to get me to listen but…” 

Azriel scoffed and pulled you closer. “You’re already a pain in my ass.” 

“That was the goal.” 

Another soft round of laughter. 

You felt like an intruder, flinching at the gleam of the ring on Azriel’s finger, hesitant to gaze around the room you had no recollection of. By the door, you could hear others in the hall. You made out Cassian and Mor’s voices, but others sparked no recognition within you. Curiosity pulled you in that direction, but before you could touch the doorknob, Azriel spoke again. 

“You wouldn’t have had to find me.” He paused. “I never would have left your side.”

And then the scream of your name woke you. 

[andorerso]

Jyn as an assassin sent after amnesiac spy Cassian

[chaoschenoo]

My brain made a VN idea and now I'm stuck making content for it. The main cast of Empty Silhouette, an amnesiac and the merc band in waaaaay over their heads.

Cassian: Human who woke on a sacrificial alter in the midst of a battle. Knows nothing about himself but way too much about the world. Racing against time and a dangerous cult to figure out why and how.

Chimalpopoca 'Chimal': Nominal leader of the trio of mercenaries. Boundless energy, strong man of the group, heavy hitter, heart of gold. Pretty good at long term planning and strategy but often gets overwhelmed by minute details.

Jaoa: Quartermaster of the group. A precise ritual caster and fencing champion. Careful and precise, scion of a noble family raised in society life. A bit of a prude but his priority is first and foremost his friends.

Zhingos: Got a bit of a color overhaul. Zhingos is the rogue and tactician of the group. Jovial, pleasant, and utterly ruthless, overall a bad decision. Cassian should probably not get involved with him.

[sarcasmismydefaultmode]

Project Starbird

Sarcasmismydefaultmode

Summary:

The Empire discover one of the Infinity Stones during a routine survey. This goes about as well as you might expect.

A lone survivor is imbued with incredible power, power both the Empire and the Rebel Alliance seek to control, while Cassian Andor finds himself caught in the middle along with an amnesiac Dedra Meero. Her past and former allegiances a mystery, can a former ISB Supervisor and Rebel Intelligence Captain find common ground? Can atonement be found for a formerly loyal daughter of the Empire?

Read it here

[mrmissmrsrandom]

Taking time to tell YOU to vote for Nell in this tournament! (I am writing this in an airport waiting for my flight so be forgiving for my rambling.)

-Nell along with her lovely friends Druid Durith and Thief Cassian, as well as her beautiful, strong, very Hot (literally, her patron is a sun goddess) paladin gf Farrier are part of a rebellion to take down the rule of the Church of the Gossamer God (controls religious practices, the land, and is a big ass Imperialist force). Initially a gang of funny little guys, Nell has become an unknowing vessel for a piece of the Burning God— another name/aspect of the Gossamer God, known as the Goddess of Love and Destruction, the moon and sea, Miren (who has some History AKA Lesbian Drama with Farrier’s patron goddess, Mirall).

-Nell is an amnesiac due to an incident five years ago, and is slowly learning who she was before (And not having a good time).

-A fortune teller part time, a Off-putting bitch all the time save to friends!

- Default expression: -__-

-Mightttt have been part of a Cult?? Who’s to say. :)

-Likes using her fire powers to do metal and costume work when she has the chance.

-That high WIS, high CHA… average INT hit hard. Glass Cannon to end all Glass Cannons.

-She is your unnerving goth neighbor next door, but she will leave soup at your door if you’re sick and not an asshole.

If YOU like all these parts of her character, you should vote for her! :D

Why you should vote for each of them and full art below!

Kindel Fernbrook (made by @c1rcuitbre4ker for D&D)

Kindel is quite genuinely just a silly little guy, a well-meaning halfling that's as gullible as they are enthusiastic. They love magic but can't seem to get the hang of it, instead learning slight of hand styled tricks and performing for anyone who is near them for more then five seconds.

Shenanigans include: nearly killed by a rug immediately after their intro, eating chemicals cause they said 'wizard' on them, convincing the party to meow at a spooky forest, convincing themself they killed someone in their sleep cause they found one bone and trying to turn themself in, exploding their dream school a little bit, and many more !

(art by @c1rcuitbre4ker)

Onella (Referred to as Nell) the Immolator (made by @mrmissmrsrandom for Dungeon World)

A woman who lost all her memory, ending up trying not only to prevent the mistakes she’s made from happening again, still just pressing through the back of her mind, but also hold back the urges of a Goddess of Destruction her body is “ubering.” Also a disaster Lesbian.

(art by @pyjamacryptid)

[melanoradrood]

i can’t forget you ( just the lies ) Ch 6 / Epilogue

Two years of his life, just gone… and now Cassian doesn’t even realize that he broke up with her, that he ripped her heart out. Two years gone, and every day, he can’t even remember her telling him that they broke up, and that he never proposed.

Rebelcaptain Modern Amnesia!Cassian Fic Word Count: 6648 Rating: Mature Warnings: It’s so fucking fluffy, y’all. Two seconds of Angst, then more fluff.

“Hey,” he says, and there’s more of a smile on his lips as he sits down, nudging the cup towards her. It’s light in color, and she can tell immediately that it matches her order from two years earlier… “Wait, what’s wrong?”

She looks up at him, unaware that her face had given it away, and she shakes her head, accepting the cup from him, a soft smile on her lips. “I just… I forgot how much cream I used to take.”

His brow is wrinkled, and then he looks upset, but she reaches out quickly, taking his hand again from where he has reached forward to take back the cup, her fingers curling around his wrist. “No, it’s okay. I’m not going to say no to coffee.”

“But it’s wrong,” he says feebly, and she can see the frustration in his eyes, can see how upset he is, and she…

“It’s just different. You’ve changed too, Cassian… but changing doesn’t mean anything bad. It just means we have new things to learn about each other.”

READ IT ON AO3 OR START AT THE BEGINNING

[cranity]

CASSIAN'S SADOW HAS ANGEL WINGS!!

Mxmzmmz

Idk I love this little diteil

YESS my poor amnesiac angel

[the-lonelybarricade]

The Rumor of St. Petersburg: Chapter 1

Chapter title: The Rumor, the Legend, the Mystery

Fic summary: A feysand/acotar adaptation of Anastasia Following the rumors of the survival of the Grand Duchess Feyre Archeron, Rhysand and his brothers come up with a plot to escape Russia and claim the Dowager Empress's reward for the princess's return. But could the likeness of the amnesiac they've groomed to be Feyre be more than a coincidence?  Read on AO3  ⟡  Masterlist

⟡ ⟡ ⟡ The streets of St. Petersburg were buzzing more than usual. The people were on edge—understandable, given that the Bolsheviks had seized control of the city seemingly overnight, and the routes out of St. Petersburg were shutting with each passing day. 

Rhysand was anxious to get his family, a close-knit group of con artists, out of the city before things turned ugly. And things were turning ugly quickly, especially for the citizens who weren’t so readily embracing the Bolshevik’s new order. Given the price on Rhysand’s head, he doubted his treatment would be very kind once he was caught. 

Still, nothing kept Russians down for very long. Already spirits were uplifted by the rumors teeming the streets, exchanged in hushed whispers through the alleyways. Rhysand hadn’t sought out the news that had left gutters in an uproar. Getting caught up in gossip had never done him or his family any favors. 

But still, the news had found him. He would need to have his head buried in the sand not to hear of Princess Feyre Archeron, the youngest daughter of the overthrown Czar, and her suspected survival. Already, people were peddling supposed trinkets once belonging to the lost princess. More curious than the princess’s survival, however, was the price that had been promised for her safe return to her grandmother, the Dowager Empress, who had fled to Paris.  

“What are you thinking, brother?” came the low, rumbling voice of Azriel. The trusted informant of their company, Azriel had an unrivaled gift for spying—something precious in their current political climate, where every wall had ears. 

Rhys looked to his brother slowly. He supposed he should be embarrassed, since he’d clearly not been listening to Azriel’s report on another border closure. The walls of the city were closing in tightly around them, and if they didn’t act quickly then Rhysand’s circle would be trapped. As good as sitting ducks with the rate that thieves and street rats were being picked off in the slums. 

They were sitting in the small dwelling he shared with his three brothers. A place Azriel had managed to secure but hadn’t divulged how—it was remarkably tucked away from the chaos of the streets below. And given the current demand for housing, it was certainly a safehaven for the degenerate group. 

“Rhys?” Cassian prompted, his curiosity stirred after Rhys hadn’t spoken. 

Rhysand shook away the fog of thoughts, focusing his eyes on his brothers. “I was thinking of the Princess Feyre,” he said plainly. 

Both of his brothers groaned in response. 

“Not you too, brother,” Cassian complained. “That’s all anyone has been talking about this last week.”

“And we have more pressing matters to attend to,” Azriel added flatly, clearly irritated that his report had been dismissed for something so trivial. “If we don’t cross the borders soon—”

“I understand the urgency,” Rhys interrupted, levelling a glare at his spymaster. “And I have a plan. A con so grand it will earn our tickets out of this Hellscape and enough money to lay low afterwards.” 

“Surely you’re not suggesting we find the lost princess,” Azriel said in disbelief. “It’s all groundless rumour.” 

Rhys offered his brother a slow, conniving smile. “We don’t need to find the real princess, brother. We’ll find a girl to play the part. Teach her what to say, dress her up, and take her to Paris.”

Cassian pursed his lips in thought. Azriel, as always, was silent in his contemplation. 

Rhysand could sense they were not convinced. “Who else could pull it off, but the three of us? No one else with such close connections to the Czar has stayed this long. We’d have everything we need to make it convincing and collect the Dowager’s reward. Then we flee—maybe head west.” 

Rhys watched as inspiration flickered behind Cassian’s eyes, and slowly Cass’s face split into a colluding grin that matched Rhysand’s own. 

“We’ll give those bastards something to talk about,” Cassian said.

“And with luck we won’t be shot,” Azriel muttered, but Rhys understood that was his unspoken concession. 

Rhysand stood up at that, peeking out the window to the spires of the city ahead. “Right then, brothers. Let’s go find ourselves a princess!” 

⟡ ⟡ ⟡

They held auditions in the theater of the abandoned Archeron Palace. Azriel’s spies had done well to spread word that their “acting troupe” was searching for a brown haired, blue eyed actress to play their lead role. If anyone was suspicious by the matching description to the lost Grand Duchess, no one unsavory had shown up to inspect. For that, Rhysand was grateful. 

A decent number of girls had shown up—the promise of paid work too tempting to turn away despite the questionable troupe. Anything not expressly permitted by the Bolsheviks was suspect, these days, and people were desperate. 

Despite the promising number of women, Rhysand and his brothers were entirely uninspired. Not a single one of the “actresses” was convincing enough to pass as the princess. And any who were close enough lacked the grit to pull off such a con. 

“Perhaps this was a lost cause,” Cassian grumbled as the last girl departed with a huff.

Rhys was about to reassure his brother when the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen walked through the doors. 

“Um, hi,” she said—not shyly, but more in bewilderment from the three pairs of eyes that had turned to her so intently. “I’m looking for Rhysand.”

Curious, since Rhys hadn’t assigned a name to the audition rumor. He sat up a bit straighter, as did Az, searching for a potential threat. “I’m Rhysand,” he said stiffly. 

The woman looked relieved. “I heard that I could come to you for some paperwork. For tickets to Paris.”

Rhysand arched a brow. They had mentioned in the rumors that their troupe would be travelling to perform in Paris, but for this girl to have come here specifically for that reason was unusual. Unless she was someone hoping to escape. Who’d sent her onto his path?

“And who are you?” he asked, the words coming out like a purr. He hadn’t meant to, but something about the women was condemningly alluring. 

The woman seemed to hesitate. “I’m just a street sweeper. I’ve been given the name Clare.”

Rhys was fascinated by the strange response, and the equally strange wording. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table he’d been sitting at. “I sense there’s a story here.” 

“Not one that’s any of your business,” she snapped. “I’ve come seeking passage to Paris. Can you help me or not?”

Rhysand studied the girl carefully, then glanced at his brothers to affirm if they’d noticed the same thing he had. Her likeness to Anastasia was… incredible. Unfathomable, really. Of course, Feyre had been a girl when she disappeared. But if Rhysand had to guess what that girl he’d once met would grow to look like, the woman before him would have been an identical match. He could see the recognition in Azriel’s eyes, too. 

“Exit papers are expensive,” Rhys noted dryly, turning his attention back to Clare. “You’d be expected to work for us.”

To his surprise, her attention was turned away from the three men completely. She was staring around the room, looking equal parts awestriken and horrified. 

“Miss?” Cassian called, assessing the woman carefully. “Are you alright?”

“I’ve been in this room before,” she whispered. She sounded so choked up Rhysand half expected her to burst into tears. 

Cassian stood up from his chair, then, and approached the woman. “Are you feeling okay? When was the last time you ate?” Indeed, she was thin and did look rather faint. “Do you need water?” 

Rhysand couldn’t decipher whether his brother’s concern was genuine, or if he were trying to make a move on the poor woman, but he stood up to assist regardless. Rhysand pulled a chair with him and offered it to Clare to sit. Her entire face had blanched as she looked around the palace theater warily. 

“Where are we?” she rasped, falling into the seat as if her legs had given out.

Rhys blinked at the woman. How could she possibly not know what this place was? The Czar hadn’t been overthrown that long ago; judging by her age she’d certainly been old enough to remember such a significant event. 

“The private theater of the Archeron Palace,” Azriel answered, still watching her from his seat. He’d been studying her carefully, not looking remotely concerned for her wellbeing. He was suspicious of her, Rhys noted. 

At Clare’s blank look, Rhysand elaborated. “The home of the royals, before they were overthrown.” 

Clare bit her lip nervously, her eyes far-away as they flitted over the stage. “I watched people dance here.” Her voice was soft and astonished.

 Rhysand studied her quizzically. She had to be mistaking this theater for another, unless she had been close enough to the royals as a child to have secured an invite to their private theater. From her appearance, she certainly didn’t look as though she’d come from a dignified family—but he supposed neither did Azriel, who had been the son of a count and had also spent his fair share of time in the palace. 

“There was champagne…” she mumbled, mostly to herself. “And the most beautiful gowns.”

“Are you from a noble family, then?” Rhys inquired. It would certainly explain her desperation to flee to Paris, since nobility was being hunted with nearly as much fervor as criminals. 

Clare looked at Rhysand as if he’d struck her. That haunted look hadn’t left her eyes, but they possessed more clarity now. “I don’t know,” she answered. 

Azriel frowned. “What do you mean you don’t know?”

Clare looked at him, noticed his hard stare, and shrugged indifferently. “I was found unconscious on the side of the road one day,” she explained. “I have no memories, no idea who I am or why I was there. The nurses named me Clare and sent me on my way, telling me there was nothing they could do to help my amnesia. But I’ve had this… urge to go to Paris. I think whoever my family is, that’s where they are. So if you’re offering passage to Paris, then I’ll do whatever work you require.” 

Rhysand thought that certainly sounded convenient. And her offer to work without knowing what it entailed was too naive. But Clare was staring down Azriel—not an easy feat, especially not for someone who was lying. Azriel looked impressed. The disbelief that had been clouding his eyes had evaporated. Cassian looked inclined to believe her, too, to Rhysand’s surprise. 

Rhysand studied the woman before him. Her likeness, her age, her amnesia… he pressed his lips together. It was too improbable, he wouldn’t entertain it. Surely it was all just coincidence. Nevertheless, it would make their story plausible, and that’s what was most important. 

“Perhaps we can help each other, after all, Clare,” he crooned. 

⟡ ⟡ ⟡

“Liars,” Clare hissed at them. Despite her frail appearance, she was a surprisingly feisty woman. 

His brothers had taken Clare back to their humble dwelling to teach her the role she was expected to play. Despite her promises of “whatever work they required”, she was resistant to scheming to be a fake princess. 

After a hasty glance towards Azriel, Rhys quickly recalculated direction. “We’re not lying, Feyre,” he assured. Her head whipped towards him at the use of the name, eyes blazing in fury. 

“I revealed my amnesia in good faith,” she snapped. “Do not use it now to manipulate me.” 

“We’re trying to help you,” Rhysand reasoned. “Haven’t you put it together yet? How you recognized the palace theater? Your amnesia beginning the same year the princess went missing? Your inexplicable likeness to the missing Grand Duchess? And how curious you suspect your family is in Paris, where the royals have all fled. Do you have any other explanation, besides the one we’re proposing?”

Clare pressed her lips together. She didn’t have a better explanation, but Rhysand knew she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of admitting it. 

“Look, Clare, it’s a win-win situation. If you are the woman I’m convinced you are, then your grandmother will recognize you immediately and you’ll be reunited with your long lost family.” She was already crossing her arms in indignation, and Rhysand continued on before she could interrupt. “And if she doesn’t recognize you, then it’s an honest mistake that would have granted you passage to Paris with the opportunity to find your true family.” 

Clare shut her mouth at that and Rhysand thanked the Gods that she actually seemed to be considering his words, for once. They’d done nothing but argue with each other since the moment they met. He was already regretting choosing her to be the princess, though he could admit she had the tenacity required. 

Sensing he had her snared, Rhys pushed just a little bit harder. “Either way, it gets you to Paris and it gets us out of Russia. Everybody gets their happy ending.” 

Clare caved. “How do you… become a person that you’ve forgotten you ever were?” 

Cassian grinned wide, swooping in to place his arm around her shoulder. “That’s what you have us for!” 

Rhysand stepped back to let his brothers take over. Azriel began inundating her with information about princess Feyre—where she was born, her hobbies, her lineage. She took it all in with wide eyes, muttering her disbelief with each additional fact. 

Rhysand didn’t truly believe she was the lost princess. At least, he wasn’t as convinced as he was trying to make Clare believe. It was cruel, he knew. But if manipulating Clare got him and his family to safety, then it was a price he was willing to pay. And he justified it by telling himself she was ultimately getting what she wanted, too. Still, a sense of dread had settled over him to take advantage of someone’s vulnerability—no matter how hot-headed of a woman she was. 

He was drawn out of his musings at Clare’s sudden outburst. 

“I’ve had it! And I hate you both! I don’t remember everything, now giving me a fucking second to breathe and leave me alone!” 

His brothers looked taken back as she suddenly stormed from the room. He blinked at them, shooting a look that said what did you do?

Cassian nodded to Azriel, looking exasperated, and Rhysand could guess that the girl hadn’t taken kindly to his brother’s coarse nature. With a sigh, Rhys followed after her to do damage control, being the only silver-tongued one among his brothers. 

“Feyre darling,” Rhysand murmured in greeting as he stepped out of their dwelling. She was leaning against the alley wall, her cheeks flushed in anger. He smothered a laugh as he marveled at how someone so furious could be so… adorable. 

“Don’t call me that,” she instantly shot back. “And I thought I told you and your miserable friends to leave me alone.”

“Look, I’m sorry about Azriel. He can get a little intense. The truth is that we’re all a little wound up and scared. You know as well as we do that these streets aren’t safe for people like us. And if I was in your position—I’d be terrified. Honestly, you’re holding it together pretty well, all things considered.”

He saw that her lower lip was trembling and suddenly felt like such a prick to spring so much on her. Rhysand had convinced her she was the last remaining member of the Czar—perhaps one of the most dangerous identities she could have had. Sure, the promise of finding her long last grandmother must be compelling, but it also meant she had a massive target on her back. The Bolsheviks would have her head the second they caught wind of it, which meant they needed to flee Russia as quickly as possible. 

“You’re a courageous woman, to have struggled through so much for so long—much stronger than I could ever hope to be. And my brothers in there, they want to help you. I know they’re a bit brash, but you don’t have to face this all by yourself. You can trust us.”

He was a bastard. Even in consoling her he was a lying piece of scum. But something seemed to resonate in Clare, because she blinked away her tears and stood a bit straighter. 

“And you have my permission to punch Azriel if he gets on your nerves again,” he said, which made her laugh. She hadn’t laughed or smiled yet, since he’d met her, and Rhysand swore the sound made his heart stop beating for a full minute. He nearly choked at the way it constricted his chest. Fuck. Just a small laugh, and it had completely knocked the air out of him. 

Clare gave him an odd look, the smile already gone. “Are you alright?” 

“Peachy,” he quipped, gesturing her inside. “Come on, let’s go show those bastards up.” 

This time, Rhysand took a more heavy-handed role, not trusting Clare to his brother’s devices. She was actually picking it up remarkably fast, despite her earlier setback. 

“Your Great Aunt Olga was a dancer—she was given a performance at every ball the Archeron family held. For your fifth birthday, the two of you danced together all night,” Azriel explained to her, more gently after Rhys had pulled him aside to chide him for his cold demeanor. 

“Your distant cousin Vanya loved his vodka. He was thoroughly sloshed at every party before dinner was even served,” Rhys added, handing her the small portraits they’d procured from the abandoned palace. 

“The Duke of Oldenburgh was…?” Cassian prompted. 

“Short?” Clare guessed, which made the Rhys chuckle. 

“Quite tall, actually. And married to your Great Aunt Ripleigh,” Azriel supplied flatly, shaking his head in exasperation. Clare shot him a dirty look, which earned her a timid, apologetic smile from Az. 

“Count Sergei is notable because he always wore a feathered hat, and looked absolutely ridiculous because of it,” Rhys handed her a portrait of the count, his ostentatious hat on full display. 

Clare uttered a soft sound of recognition when she saw it. “He had a yellow cat,” she murmured. “Dima.”

Rhysand looked up to his brothers, who both looked perplexed. That wasn’t in the intel they’d gathered. 

No time to dwell on it, they quickly moved on to etiquette. Azriel, being a count’s son, knew how to dance far better than Rhys and Cassian. But Clare had adapted an aversion to the spymaster, and Cassian had been too handsy for Rhysand’s liking. So Rhys was the one to teach her, ignoring his brother’s taunting eyes all the while. 

The girl was surprisingly graceful and dancing seemed to come naturally to her, despite stepping on Rhysand’s toes more than a few times. Rhysand took the rare moment to admire her face devoid of glares. She was starting at their feet, concentrating hard on getting the steps of the dance right. Rhysant thought in that moment she was the most exquisite thing he’d ever laid eyes on. She glanced up, suddenly, and seemed to start when she noticed his gaze. He watched a blush bloom across her cheeks, emphasizing the smattering of freckles found there. But she didn’t look away. 

They held each other’s gaze for a long while. Rhysand marked the blue in her eyes, certain he’d never seen a color so vibrant. He’d never had a favorite color before, never had the luxury to care about such things. But if he had to pick one now, it would be the blue-gray he saw before him. 

Cassian cleared his throat, causing Rhys to immediately let go. Clare stumbled at the sudden release, but caught her footing nimbly. Rhysand averted his eyes from his brothers, not wanting to see the warning that would inevitably be on their faces. She was pretty, sure, but it would be dangerous to entertain any feelings for her. They were con artists after all, and she was a victim in their scheme. He allowed himself one more look at Clare, and Rhysand knew she was going to condemn him to the very depths of Hell.

  ⟡ ⟡ ⟡

[ao3feed-anastasia]

The Rumor of St. Petersburg

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/3zN7095

by TheLonelyBarricade

A Feysand/acotar adaptation of Anastasia - Following the rumors of the survival of the Grand Duchess Feyre Archeron, Rhysand and his brothers come up with a plot to escape Russia and claim the Dowager Empress's reward for the princess's return. But could the likeness of the amnesiac they've groomed to be Feyre be more than a coincidence? - Contains many refrences to Anastasia the Broadway musical. <3 Updates sat/sun.

Words: 3370, Chapters: 1/4, Language: English

Series: Part 2 of True Love's Kiss

Fandoms: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas, Anastasia (1997)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: F/M

Characters: Feyre Archeron, Rhysand (ACoTaR), Cassian (ACoTaR), Azriel (ACoTaR), Tamlin (ACoTaR), Clare Beddor

Relationships: Feyre Archeron/Rhysand, Feyre Archeron & Rhysand

Additional Tags: Inspired by Anastasia (1997 & Broadway), Alternate Universe - Anastasia (1997 & Broadway) Fusion, Alternate Universe - Historical, Fairy Tale Retellings, Fairy Tale Curses, Princes & Princesses, POV Rhysand (ACoTaR), lots of musical refrences, No Beta

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/3zN7095

[brynnmclean]

You know I’m always here for anything Arwen-related you write, but I’m also intrigued by the Bourne concept!

I can’t tell you how happy I am to be reminded that you like the letter delivered, the year decembered.  Arwen!  My beloved!!!

Ahh, the Bourne AU!  I wrote a little bit of Bodhi’s POV as the person who saves amnesiac!Jyn and then I... actually have an outline under the title of Cain is for Charlie and Delta is for Cain because the idea was actually going to be a fusion of movie AND book!Bourne Identity.  It was all about killing one person... which Liana ends up thinking is Galen Erso.

I won’t say much about the plot, but the plan is/was multiple POVs (Bodhi, Liana/Jyn, Cassian, Saw) and was absolutely 100% going to have the final beach scene from the Bourne Identity book as an epilogue.  I just.  Listen.  From my notes:

Cassian and Jyn on Lah’mu after the destruction of the Death Star.

The beach, the black rocks, the waves—Cassian a ways away from Jyn, watching as she splashes in the waves and laughs with triumph as she remembers something.

She runs back to meet him— “My name is Jyn Erso.”  And Cassian smiles.  “Hello, Jyn.”

[ask me about my WIP list]

[superidiotics]

AN INCOMPLETE LIST OF CHARACTERS 2: ELECTRIC BOOGALOO

This time with plot summaries.

STORY: SUPERIDIOTS

OVERVIEW: Lone wolf Nana Thindrel expects nothing good to come out of her superpowers, and she’s gotten used to being alone. That is, until she’s pulled into the lives of a super powered group of friends who might just be the one thing she’s always wanted, but never been able to have—a family.

Nana Thindrel. Jamie Abbott. Jules Lister. Cecil Grigg. Lilea Greene. Vincent Irvine. Cassian Pruitt. Analia Herring. Elska Clemonte. Felicity Walker. Emery Mcvay. Dawn Clarke. Lavender Andrews. Skye Lynn. Roni Lodge.

STORY: FALLEN KINGDOMS

OVERVIEW: In the not-so-distant future, after most of the world has been rendered uninhabitable, a city filled with androids, cyborgs, and the remaining humans is one of the few places where people continue to live. Follow an android, a cyborg, and a human as they navigate life on a destroyed earth.

Jessie. Vivi. Charlotte. Chrys. Prim. Narci. Finn. Nimh. Erin. Hayden. Star. Layton. Jodie. Diya. Ruth. Beau. Alexi. Selene. Ryder. Willow.

STORY: MERLIN MALLOR

OVERVIEW: this is pretty much just a Harry Potter rewrite.

Merlin Mallor. Aspen Hallewell. Cressida Morgan. Keary Vexx. Juniper Hallewell. Artie Park. Beau Hallewell. Beck Hallewell.

STORY: DANGANRONPA RETRIBUTION

OVERVIEW: A group of teenagers, thrown into a killing game—where the only options are redemption or ruin.

Anya Lowery. Calantha Bernard. Dante Kane. Quinn Everett. Lex Levine. Valentine. Mimi Morris. Ripley Flynn.

STORY: DARKMOORE

OVERVIEW: A magical amnesiac who literally just wants to garden instead becomes the protagonist of some Dating Sim Nonsense.

Lian. Cosmos. Seren. Bryn. Eowyn. Avalon. Killian.

STORY: NOTES FROM A VAMPIRE

OVERVIEW: Rowan, raised in captivity because of his magic, begins receiving letters from a vampire named Leon who seems to know more about Rowan than he does.

Leon Argent. Aster Trevils. Rowan. Violeta Dupree. Cleo Sharpe.

STORY: UNNAMED SUPERVILLAIN’S KIDS ONE.

OVERVIEW: Nature vs nurture takes a new twist as the children of famed supervillains realize that they don’t want to be like their parents—they want to be heroes.

Marlie Gardner. Ayden Fox. Evie Herring. Rhys Lynch. Phoenix Chandler-Fox.

STORY: LGBT FAIRTYALES

OVERVIEW: This is pretty self explanatory. A bunch of fairytales with queer twists—a princess falling in love with the daughter of the witch who cursed her to sleep until woken by true love’s kiss, a knight saving a prince from a tower guarded by a dragon, etc.

Gwen Irvi. Elodie Cetmir. Cyne Marshwood. Illis Lawsey. Ashe Estcox. Storm Hartledge. Darya Whitewater. Landon Carsey. Liri Vounna. Poppy Locklow. Frissea.

STORY: OLD UNNAMED ONE

OVERVIEW: A human fell in love with a demon—with the rising threat of demon hunters, they were forced to send their infant children away to be raised as though they were human. Years later, after their mother goes missing, they’re brought back into the world they never knew they were part of.

Ben. Jeff. Etan. Melody. Adrian. Jaxson. Elena. Maria. Annie. Maggie. Ari. Penny. Trixie.

WIZARD101 OCS

Roslyn Silverstone. Fallon Shadowthorn.

MARVEL OCS

Cybel. Lucinda McBride. River Hart. Maxie White. Nova Little. Dimitri. Tonka. Noctis. Lennox. Lillian Medi. Roman Medi. Rori Clark. Zoe Nixon. Solstice Meadows. Friday Kirk. Atali.

STORY: UNNAMED SUPERPOWER KIDS ONE

OVERVIEW: A bunch of teenagers, with superpowers and no one left except each other, try to find their place in the world.

Milo Porter. Teylie Eide. Lexi Monroe. Manyon Porter. Nikita Antonov. Renna Wright.

STORY: YOURS TRULY

OVERVIEW: princess and the pauper but everyone’s gay

Percy Wickes. Maisie Evans. Jazmin Edison. Dorian Edison.

STORY: CHILDREN OF FEATHERS AND HORNS

OVERVIEW: A half demon, half human, destined to bring about the apocalypse. A half angel, half human, destined to represent all things good and follow orders. A demon-angel hybrid, destined to be something bigger than herself. When none of them are particularly interested in following destiny, what can they do except run away together?

Acacia. Dominick White. Elvira Sumner.

STORY: WELCOME TO ERYSA

OVERVIEW: After dying and being brought back to life with the condition that she uses her newfound superpowers to do good—lest she die again—Taylor Sparks is determined to create a team that can help her protect the world… even if it means breaking a few laws in the process.

Valentine Hart. Landry Jarvis. Nathaniel Hood. Saniya Pierce. Taylor Sparks. Eira Medina. Landon Stone. Cyrus Hayden. Zaria Bates. Zander Ray. Oryn. Lyric. Ruby Friel. Arlo Caroll. Ciana Biondi.

STORY: NIGHTTIME ANTEROGRADE

OVERVIEW: Gillian was raised with the knowledge that she was supposed to kill the Impius Nocte—creatures created from fear that quickly got out of hand, eating away at their host bodies—but, as it turns out, she isn’t exactly interested in killing them. Instead, to the exasperation of her mentor, she wants to save them.

Gillian Rowe. Emlyn Grimm. Xandria Ashurst. Moshe Lowery. Lex Carven. Iris Swanson.

STORY: TDSD

OVERVIEW: So, there’s zombies now. Nadia wants nothing more than to protect her young daughter, Irina, from the horrors of the world. But when horrors seem to be all that’s left, what can a stressed out single mother do?

Nadia Petrov. Irina Petrov. Rory Ellison. Leila Stone. Lyric Joyce. Roman Joyce. Jean Briggs. Donovan Archer. Aspen Archer. Eric Herring. Esther Berry. Brynn Villarreal. Valerie Madden. Cora Wilcox. Lara Young. Cyrus Young. Nick. Narcissa Padilla. Noel Blair. Nico Love. Aristotle Lowell. Blake Baker. Bruno Stark. Rosette. Bea Faye.

STORY: UNNAMED MAGIC KIDS ONE

OVERVIEW: There is, supposedly, a magical school somewhere. It’s meant for kids like them, but they got overlooked. Whether it be because their powers were locked away, developed late, or simply weren’t strong enough to catch attention, they’re on their own. Well, on their own except for each other.

Nevada Griffin. Cypress Willow. Ettie Aves. Val Knotts.

STORY: ZIX

OVERVIEW: An oft-overlooked dimension, filled with vampiric, superpowered creatures called Zix. Esmea is destined to lead. If her mother doesn’t kill her first.

Esmea Aidana. Ainsley Aidana. Matisse Maris. Camille West.

STORY: UNTITLED PEOPLE

OVERVIEW: Lukas Brooks’ only motivation after his family’s death is hunting down their killer—with a retired hitman and the daughter of the person he’s hunting at his side, he’ll get revenge. Even if he dies in the process.

Quinn Price. Marlene ‘Lena’ Lynn. Lukas Brooks.

STORY: NIGHT COURT

OVERVIEW: A powerful family who operates on the wrong side of the law, and the hitman hired to kill one of them. It doesn’t sound like a love story, but that’s how it ends up.

Bernadette Brandt. Alois Brandt. Renly Sinclair. Nadia Voronin.

STORY: SAD OLD ONE

OVERVIEW: A school for talented youth, and the tragedies that fill it.

Madeline Knight. Kiyo Ross. Kai. Eli.

STORY: YET ANOTHER UNTITLED FOUND FAMILY

OVERVIEW: After their parents died in one accident that changed their lives forever, three kids stick together even as they hide away from the rest of the world. That is, until they’re found by someone who just wants to help them—even if none of them believe it.

Elliot Stokes. Lewis Stokes. Scott Stokes. Briar Parker-Stokes.

STORY: UNTITLED THING

OVERVIEW: A reaper, a fallen angel, and the complicated relationship between them.

Tristin Joy. Leza Orus. Haven Roth.

STORY: WESLEY’S FAULT

OVERVIEW: Just your basic found family about a man who grew up taking care of himself because no one else would learning to care for a kid.

Mitchell Watson. Journey ‘Jo’ Watson. Viola Lyons.

STORY: SOCIETY OF THE NOT REALLY DEAD

OVERVIEW: Turned not-quite-human by dying, this group of revived people—led by an otherworldly being named Darsh—spends their time hunting down people who’ve gone through a similar experience, but ended up being dangerous.

Josie. Ayla. Quinn. Darsh. Sawyer.

STORY: UNTITLED LMAO

OVERVIEW: A secretive, close-knit town, the rich family at the head, and a mysterious party that reveals more than it should.

Serafina Vexx, Kaine Vexx, Eiran Vexx, Maddock Knotley, Elias, Lila, Ruby, Odeta, Isolde

STORY: ONLY HUMAN

OVERVIEW: TBA

Agnes (Aggie) Knotley. Casper Raith. Jax Marth. Theodora Killoran. El Cromwell. Mars Perea. Marea Hook. Rose Murik. Lucian Wright.

MISC OCS

Navonni Dulcinea. Cosma Witenor. Sonya Valentine. Dina. Cascadia. Ria Petrov. Atti Solis. Darion Harding. Skylar Parks. Mordra Anderson. Fiona Wright. Liza. Ro Daughtry. Shala Hart. Hayden Patel. Devyn Vance. Ryder Flores. Loina. Crowlie Cleary. Marnie. Pyter. Krila. Araxie Ceto. Anya Florence Day. Eden Wolfe. Rea. Jasper Prince. Angelo Santiago. Camille Haley. Riya Cox. Arcadia Wolfe. Maeve.

[wolvesofinnistrad]

Au where Mando/Din and Poe are friends and single dads who bring their kids around with them a lot. And then Poe ends up meeting Finn an amnesiac soldier and Din hooks up with this guy Cassian and everyone lives happily ever after.

[thafost]

The Overboard AU I’ve been struggling to write!

I’m putting out the first bit for now. Unfinished as of now.

I’m a terrible writer so... but this is mostly based on the classic episode “Strictly Business” but instead of all that silly, Oh I’m Macgyver~ business... why not just say hey, that dude’s my boyfriend? Let me take him home? But also, Modern Macgyver means Murdoc has a child. So... Overboard it is.

Macgyver’s disappearance has been weighing heavily on his friends. It had been a long week of investigating what happened after his car crashed, but the leads have dried up. While Matty checks in with the overnight agents in charge, a phone call comes in on the line normally reserved for Macgyver or other field agents. Matty connects, hoping to see Macgyver’s face, but feels disappointment at the actual respondent. “You.”

“Me.” Murdoc says. “Before you go any further, I am sending you my location. Please, please come get Macgyver. He’s completely fine... just amnesiac.”

“What’s the catch, Murdoc?”

“I’d like to not be arrested? Cassian and I will be relocating while you come pick up the boy scout.”

“So why give him back now?” As Matty asks this, Murdoc looks flustered, and he turns away from the camera for a moment.

“This might come as a bit of a shock, but Cassian might have told Macgyver that he’s my special friend.”

 “Alright Kiddo, we need to get out of here.” He tells Cassian in the back seat. Accelerating he heads towards his intended destination wondering about how long it will take to get there when he hears his son pipe up.

“What about your friend?” Murdoc’s clench up on the steering wheel, and the gloves slide a little as his fingers dig in. Of course his son would remember Macgyver from saving him from their little trip to South America.

“There’ll be an ambulance soon, Cassian. He should be fine.” Murdoc knows that’s not going to stop his son’s line of questioning.

“Dad, he could be hurt.” Murdoc groans at how his son’s words play at his heart strings. This was after all, someone who considers Murdoc a nuisance, or maybe even a nemesis. “We should go back and check on him dad.” Murdoc knew this would not be the end of it, and he should at least make sure the accident hadn’t started a fire. Slowing his car down, Murdoc pulls a u-turn to position himself closer to the accident. As they approach the accident, Macgyver has already freed himself and is standing at the side of the road.

“See, he’s fine.” Murdoc says before feeling unsettled as Macgyver begins to wave his arms at them. He rolls down his window, and he gets the surprise of a lifetime as Macgyver starts talking.

“Hey, you’ve got to help me. My car is wrecked and I think I hit my head.”

“Oh Angus, have you forgotten me? I’m hurt.” Angus gives Murdoc a long and thorough look through the open window. After looking for oncoming traffic, he crosses to Murdoc’s window, and Murdoc spots a bright cut over his eyebrow and cheekbone. “You have, haven’t you?”

“Who are you?” asks Macgyver. As Murdoc considers his options, Cassian pipes up.

“This is my dad, Murdoc, and I think he’s your boyfriend.” Murdoc chokes on his saliva for a moment, as Murdoc tries to figure out how his son drew this conclusion. It’s not accurate to his relationship, but he lets his son continue. “He says you’re his special friend, and that you go on adventures together.” Well, that is accurate, Murdoc thinks.

“Special friend?” Matty asks.

“Boyfrienddddd....” Murdoc whispers while turning flush. Matty laughs.

“You can’t be serious.”

“I am. I thought he’d remember sooner, or want to talk to you lot, much earlier. But here we are, and he’s...” Murdoc trails off in the video call, and Matty sees him gaze off camera. “Anyway, he decided he wanted to come with us.”

“Were we going somewhere together?” Angus asks.

“You were following us.” Murdoc states. Technically true. “I’m headed to a new job out of state. I think you were upset that I was leaving.” Escaping a prison.

“Why don’t you come with us?” Cassian asks. “At least into the next city. I’ll let you ride up front with my dad.”

Angus joins them in the car. “You call me Murdoc, but my first name is Dennis. Your name is Angus Macgyver.” Murdoc sees some recognition in Macgyver’s eyes. “Let's get you to a doctor, boy scout.” Angus looks disapproving of this nickname. “Oh good, you seem to have some sense of yourself.” Murdoc once again pulls a u-turn to head in their intended route.

“Hey dad?”

“Yeah kiddo?”

“I’d be really happy if Macgyver came to live with us. He was so nice in Columbia. You know, with Mommy.” Murdoc feels his hands clench the steering wheel tightly as he navigates the mountainous hills.

“Well, that’s up to Mr. Macgyver.” Murdoc clenches his teeth, just knowing what’s coming next.

“I mean, as long as the doctors say I can, sure.”

“I was hoping the doctors would want to run a CT scan or I could leave him for observation, but no luck. We were on our way. Then I stopped for the night, but... you didn’t come for us.” Murdoc explains over the video call. 

The next city’s doctors rubber stamp Macgyver as good to go. They note that spending time with close friends and loved ones can help jar memories loose, but warned not to overdo memory lane.

With nothing but open road ahead of them, Murdoc rents a hotel room for the three of them. “Let’s get you to bed before our long drive.”

“Sounds good Dennis.” The hotel room is very dated, thanks to the small town nature. Murdoc sets up his side of the room, realizing shortly that Macgyver needs toiletries as well as additional clothes.

“Alright, you two put on a movie or something. I’m going to get some supplies and dinner.” Murdoc noted concern in Cassian’s eyes. “Don’t worry, Macgyver will keep you safe. But he needs pajamas.” Cassian smiles, turns on the television and thinks nothing of it. “Call me if you need anything.”

Murdoc returns with clothing relatively close to Macgyver’s size. He also brings burgers and milkshakes. It’s an easy way to make his son happy, and Murdoc’s glad that it works. Macgyver seems happy with his new assortment of flannel shirts, nerd shirts, pajamas, and toothbrush. As they eat, Murdoc tries to piece together the movie on the small television set. It’s utterly terrible but Cassian and Macgyver seem to be enjoying it. Murdoc pulls the chair in the room over between the two beds to watch the television. The music swells as the heroes triumph, and the lead characters turn to each other and kiss. Unexpectedly, Cassian does not seem to mind. “Hey bud, when did you move past the girls and kissing are icky phase?”

“After I got to see you, Mommy, and Macgyver on that trip. Macgyver worked so hard to get me. Mom just left.” Cassian said. 

“Mommy had to go on a business trip kiddo.”

“Dad, I’m not a little kid. I know what you and mom do. I know what Macgyver does. I know Mom’s going to be gone forever.” Cassian didn’t seem to be as sad as Murdoc thinks he should be.

“Cassian, I’d still keep an eye out for Mom. She’s always a surprise if nothing else.” Murdoc spared a slight glance to see Macgyver’s expression, but he was not looking towards Murdoc and his son, but towards the window. Outside appears to have police lights. “Shi---, Macgyver you’re fine. I’m fine. Everything’s fine. The cops probably aren’t here for us.”

“Why would they be here for us?” Macgyver asks.

“We forgot to tell his friends he’s okay!” Cassian says with sudden clarity.

“Oh. Right. We’ll call in the morning. Time for bed sport.” Cassian frowns, but heads off to get ready for bed. Macgyver is at the window peeking through the curtains. “What are they up to out there?”

“Busting some dude and a pretty lady.” The wheels turn in Murdoc’s head a little faster than Macgyver’s bruised one. He’s clicked on the sketchy hotel and pretty lady as Macgyver closes the blinds and says “Oh.” Murdoc stands up and puts the chair back in the corner of the room. Macgyver moves away from the window and towards the things Murdoc bought for him. He pulls out the pajamas and turns to Murdoc. “Am I a night showerer, or a morning showerer?” Murdoc’s at a bit of a loss.

“Nighttime I think. We’re not cohabitating so your guess is as good as mine.” Macgyver frowns, and gets his things ready for a shower. Cassian returns, ready for bed, and Macgyver goes to use the bathroom. “Do you need a bedtime story?” Cassian laughs.

“Not really dad.” Cassian climbs into one of the beds. “What are you going to do when we get there?”

“That will depend on Macgyver and if he starts to remember. I don’t think we can keep him forever.” The water for the shower comes on, so Murdoc flips to the news stations for a quick check to see if he’s been blown. Luckily, there didn’t seem to be a manhunt in progress for any of the three of them, likely because Phoenix didn’t want anyone trying to stop Murdoc thmself. As Macgyver returns, Murdoc turns off the tv and presses a quick kiss to Cassian’s forehead as he sits on the edge of the bed. “Night Cassian.”

“Hey dad, instead of a bedtime story, can I have a you and Macgyver story?”

“Cassian’s going to be pissed when he figures out what I’ve done.”

“Why?” Matty asks.

“He really does think Macgyver’s my boyfriend, and I’m not entirely sure why. Also he likes this school. And my non murder job.”

“Your what?”

“My job that’s completely murder free. It’d be legal, except I’m using a false identity. While I’m really good at the murder, I wanted something more stable for my son.” Murdoc shugs, and Matty’s mildly impressed. “It just felt like a good move for now, after removing myself from that prison.”

“Sure, we’ll fight over that later. Why do you think Macgyver stayed?”

“Anything specific?” Murdoc asks.

“How did you first meet?” Cassian asks.

“Well, I was working at a museum. Angus was also at the museum working, and sparks flew.” He looks to see Macgyver blush slightly.

“Sparks flew? For real?” Cassian asks.

“Oh, he definitely made sure of that. Then he couldn’t stop following me.” Cassian frowns. “He made me rockets from wine bottles later. He’s quite fun at parties. But as things go, Macgyver definitely came out ahead that time. Only one of us got his job done, but I definitely found something I hadn’t before.”

“What?” Asks Macgyver this time.

“Love. Just kidding,” Murdoc sees Macgyver roll his eyes. “ I found someone interesting, and new. People tend to bore me. Not you kiddo, and definitely not Handsome.”

“We had some early roadbumps. Things that had you known we were together, probably would have signalled our location.”

“Like what, what’d we miss?” asks Matty.

“Did the gas station attendant not report the attempted robbery?”

At the first sign of needing gas, Murdoc feels a little worry in the back of his mind that this will be when Phoenix storms in and takes him back. He puts the thought away, and gives Macgyver and Cassian a twenty to spend on snacks. Murdoc stands pumping gas by himself, looking for operatives, and wary of everything going on. After his tank is full, he moves his car to the station parking and heads in to see what’s taking them so long.

As he opens the front door, Murdoc sees the issue. As the cashier moves at a leisurely pace, a man in front of the cashier holds a firearm in such a way that implies a robbery, but also that he’s not skilled at using firearms. Macgyver and Cassian appear aware of the situation but standing far enough away that Murdoc feels comfortable stepping into the store. “Greetings, it seems like this is your first rodeo.” The gunman immediately swings his gaze and weapon towards Murdoc. “Well that’s just unkind, I was going to give you some professional tips, man to man.” Murdoc gestures, and lets his weight rest from foot to foot. “But you’re holding up my roadtrip, and I’ve got places to be, people to see.” Murdoc winks at Macgyver in the back of the store. The gunman starts to swivel, and Murdoc quickly disarms him. “So, if you could call the authorities and turn in this weapon for me, that’d be great.” He tells the clerk placing the gun on the counter. “Safety’s on, so you should be okay placing that somewhere out of reach. And you mister, shame on you for being so bad at this.” Murdoc still has one hand on the man, who tries to swing a punch. Blocking the punch, Murdoc returns the favor and lands a good one against his head. He settles down and Murdoc releases him. “Boy scout, come pay for your snacks, and lets get going.”

There’s a look of disbelief on Macgyver’s face, and then he and Cassian come forward with their snacks. Cassian even grabbed Murdoc’s favorite roadtrip beverage. “Do you call me boy scout a lot?” Macgyver asks, placing everything on the counter. Murdoc thinks for a moment.

“Somewhat I’d say. Did that kick something loose?” Murdoc asks as the cashier rings in everything. Macgyver shakes his head.

“Not really a memory, but a feeling.” Murdoc feels something warm bloom low in his gut. “I’m not sure what kind of a feeling, but it felt familiar.” Macgyver pays for everything, and they’re on their way again. 

“I’m glad your body remembers me at least, if not your brain.” Murdoc says as they’re on the highway. “Your guts didn’t forget what we have.”

“I guess not, Dennis.” Macgyver says, and he leans a bit and pats Murdoc’s knee warmly. Murdoc tries not to focus on the hand on his leg, but it feels so right, but also so impossibly warm. After a moment Macgyver returns his hand back to resting on his own leg, and Murdoc definitely feels a loss that he will ignore for the rest of his life.

“The one foiled by some creepy dude in leather gloves was you?” Murdoc notes a hint of incredulity in her voice.

“Yes. He was holding the line up, and I sent the boys in to get snacks. Very rude.”

[ao3feed-acotar]

The Rumor of St. Petersburg

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/3zN7095

by TheLonelyBarricade

A Feysand/acotar adaptation of Anastasia - Following the rumors of the survival of the Grand Duchess Feyre Archeron, Rhysand and his brothers come up with a plot to escape Russia and claim the Dowager Empress's reward for the princess's return. But could the likeness of the amnesiac they've groomed to be Feyre be more than a coincidence? - Contains many refrences to Anastasia the Broadway musical. <3 Updates sat/sun.

Words: 3370, Chapters: 1/4, Language: English

Series: Part 2 of True Love's Kiss

Fandoms: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas, Anastasia (1997)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: F/M

Characters: Feyre Archeron, Rhysand (ACoTaR), Cassian (ACoTaR), Azriel (ACoTaR), Tamlin (ACoTaR), Clare Beddor

Relationships: Feyre Archeron/Rhysand, Feyre Archeron & Rhysand

Additional Tags: Inspired by Anastasia (1997 & Broadway), Alternate Universe - Anastasia (1997 & Broadway) Fusion, Alternate Universe - Historical, Fairy Tale Retellings, Fairy Tale Curses, Princes & Princesses, POV Rhysand (ACoTaR), lots of musical refrences, No Beta

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/3zN7095

[morethanonepage]

alsooo lap sitting and happy drunk coziness. Ooh and identity ~drama

fic author Never Have I Ever

honestly it’d probably be easier to ask which of my John/Chas fics don’t have lap sitting but that’s not the meme so:

between the third and fourth rib

greenwood

blended cotton with gannex twill

culpability

mages against literacy

Also for a change: Two Solitudes, for the Clint/Coulson version, and this lil Cassian/Bodhi high school AU snippet.

I....don’t think I have written happy drunk coziness, actually. I feel like I should (I am currently writing something that has awkward sad drunk makeouts but it’s not quite the same). I think a nice Finn/Poe fic where they’re all giggly and happy after a successful mission and then idk Finn reaches over to gives Poe a quick, soft kiss that they’re too drunk to freak out about (they’re not together yet obvs) and maybe they fall asleep together and then the next morning it’s awks???? I would/could write that, idk, maybe.

Also the only identity drama I’ve ever really considered writing is a mutual amnesia thing where the pairing isn’t together yet but they’re so entwined in each other’s lives that when they lose their memories, all the clues around them (like, each other’s names in their phones, their living spaces) seem to indicate they’re TOGETHER and so these two dumb amnesiac babies are like ‘well i guess we’re screwing so lets get back to that’ and then they get their memories back and they’re like ‘oh. oh no. we just call each other all the time PLATONICALLY. we just hang out in each other’s apartments all the time FROM CONVENIENCE. we just feel at home in each other’s arms BY COINCIDENCE. oh no oh no’.

Anyway I’ve always meant to write that but never quite get around to it.

[ersonist]

title: yesterday’s just a memory, tomorrow is never what it’s supposed to be

rating: t

word count: 2k1

summary: It’s not every day someone you know gets kicked in the head and forgets a couple of years of their life or modern AU amnesia fic.

a/n: I was checking my dash the other day and @hurricanedancer​ reblogged  this amazing post and mentioned in the tags wanting a fic. I was already planning to write something for Cassian Andor Appreciation Week (Favourite Relationship(s)) and this inspired me so I combined both. No such thing as too many RebelCaptain fics, right? Anyway hope you enjoy it :)

(I wrote the fic, but Bob Dylan wrote the title.)

Cassian wakes up to the blinding lights and whispers that are way too loud for his pounding headache. He vaguely identifies the place as a hospital but he’s not sure how he got here.

“Welcome back,” he hears a woman’s voice tell him in a British accent and his confusion deepens. Must be one of Kay’s relatives, he decides.

And then there’s a flurry of movement around him, people asking him questions, calling a doctor, squeezing his hand. It’s exhausting so he closes his eyes and lets himself fall asleep again.

The next time he wakes up the room is significantly darker and emptier. He notices a sole figure half sitting, half leaning on a chair next to his bed.

“What happened?” he asks, his hoarse voice slightly breaking over the last word.

“You don’t remember?” the young woman looks at him with a clear concern when he shakes his head no.

“You tried to be a hero, stopping a bunch of guys from stealing a car.”

“They clearly won,” he states, hesitantly smiling at her.

“Yep, you got your ass kicked,” she openly smirks back. She fluffs an extra pillow that doesn’t look hospital issued before helping him to lean back comfortably. She’s cute. Whoever she is, he thinks.

“So what’s your name?”

Her hands start shaking and he figures this was a wrong question to ask.

Amnesia sounds too much like something out of Mexican soap operas he used to watch with his grandmother. The neurologist tries to be optimistic but there are too many we don’t know and we can’t predict that for Cassian to share her positive attitude. His room is crowded again but he can’t really blame anyone. It’s not every day someone you know gets kicked in the head and forgets a couple of years of their life. Still he averts his eyes refusing to witness their pity. The problem is that except for feeling a bit weak, he is fine. The headache is gone, he can stomach solid food again and frankly all he wants to do is go home. Unless...

“Do I still live where I lived back then?” he interrupts impatiently. How much could his life have changed in two years anyway? A new girlfriend does not define his entire existence.

He doesn’t like the anxious looks they all share.

“More or less,” Bodhi finally informs him without actually replying to his question.

He lives with Jyn now. That’s the news everyone, Jyn herself included, was gently trying to break to him. Honestly he would’ve guessed the minute he stepped into his (their?) apartment. Hot pink bunny slippers weren’t exactly his style.

“It was an inside joke,” Jyn mutters defensively when she follows his gaze to the offending items, carelessly thrown near the living room couch. She picks the slippers up and stuffs them into the small closet in the hallway.

It’s the oddest thing in the world. This virtual stranger who has her things all over Cassian’s living space and sometimes watches him with fondness and love he doesn’t understand.

The uncomfortable silence stretches a bit too long for his liking. He did suggest crashing at Kay’s but they all thought he should re-familiarise himself with his usual surroundings. Plus Jyn seemed determined in showing how much this doesn’t bother her.

“You have an unusual name,” he points out, slightly cringing at how terrible he is at small talk.

“Like gin and tonic, right?” she laughs and he joins her.

“Please tell me men don’t use that as a pick-up line!” he jokes with more ease. He plops on the couch now covered with a soft, grey blanket and stretches languidly. Jyn doesn’t say anything for a moment, just plays with the sleeve of her shirt.

“That’s actually what you said when we first met.”

Trying to trigger lost memories is a perfectly acceptable treatment for amnesiacs and Cassian doesn’t mind it at first. That changes by the 10th minute of a powerpoint presentation fully prepared and presented by Kay.

“Halloween party last year. Picture taken at approximately 2 am as judged by your frankly obvious intoxication,” Kay comments the current slide with his usual mixture of amazing detachment and complete disgust. “Is your memory back now?”

“No,” Cassian groans miserably. “Could you please speed this up?”

Kay straightens in his seat, towering over the desk even more.

“I was preparing a shortened version if you wish.”

“How long is that one?”

“47 pages but it’s not proofread yet.”

***

“3 hours, Leia! 3 fucking hours!” he complains later over a cup of coffee. “He even gave me a bound copy!”

“I know you forgot some stuff,” she comments with a grin that was clearly supposed to look innocent but comes out more like a devious smirk. “but I thought you remembered Kay was more like a robot than an actual human.”

He sighs and stirs in a spoonful of sugar. You drink more tea now, Jyn informed him one morning over the breakfast. He knows they have silly matching mugs and one cupboard is full of a specific earl grey blend she apparently can’t function without.

“How are things with Jyn?” Leia asks nonchalantly as if she could read Cassian’s thoughts.

He shrugs because he’s honestly at a loss for words. How to explain to his old friends that it’s like living with a roommate that you never asked for? Except that there used to be an us with that roommate and the more he thinks he can fall for her, the more she probably falls out of love?

“I sleep on the couch in my own apartment and I’m pretty sure my mere presence makes her want to cry,” he admits in the end. “She’s erm... she’s something else though.”

Leia nods and smiles encouragingly at him.

“But I think I get it. I get why he fell in love with her,” he concludes quietly. He never planned on confessing this much especially since he’s pretty sure Leia will blabber it all to Han and one way or another it’ll reach Jyn.

“You talk about yourself in third person,” she settles for a joke instead and he’s immensely grateful for it. “They did recommend you a shrink, right?”

***

“How about you scroll through my instagram and ask me questions if you want?” Bodhi suggests during their lunch the next day.

Cassian agrees more out of politeness than an actual wish to go through yet another “let’s make Cassian remember things” session. He checks one post after another. Birthday parties, a trip to the beach, Christmas drinks at a pub nearby. They all have one thing in common. If Jyn’s present, Cassian looks like a complete dork in every single one of them.

“Seriously you’d think I’d stop with those ridiculous starry eyes!” he exclaims while practically shoving the phone into Bodhi’s face. “Just look at that one, for example! We get it, Cassian, you’re happily in love!”

“Actually that was taken right before you officially met,” Bodhi explains slightly embarrassed and Cassian goes completely red in the face. 

He tries to find a specific document on his laptop when he stumbles upon a folder simply named “porn”. Judging by the creation date this was done by Jyn’s Cassian (as he secretly calls himself) and frankly he’s slightly worried about its content. He knows it’s a bad idea idea to go through it now, especially with Jyn sitting a few feet away from him furiously scribbling something on her work papers, but the curiosity wins. He clicks on one of the files at random and gets a cheesy selfie of both of them outside his apartment. He clicks another. This one has Jyn cooking and frankly looking beyond annoyed. There are hundreds of pics in the folder and Cassian has a feeling they all have a similar subject. He finally clicks on one of the few videos. It’s a terribly cliché shot of a beach sunset that moves slowly to Jyn sitting close to the camera, a cocktail in one hand, her shoulders a bit reddish from the sun. Mi amor, she calls to him laughingly and it suddenly reverberates around the silent room. Cassian desperately shuts his laptop but one glance in Jyn’s direction confirms she’s heard it loud and clear. She stays silent for a few seconds, biting her lip in an obvious attempt to keep a straight face.

“Are you watching porn, Cass?” she asks before finally bursting into laughter.

He realizes he enjoys his new life about 5 weeks after the incident. Sure it’s still awkward when he bumps into Jyn freshly out of shower and he’s still confused by a lot of stories he hears about himself but his new (old) friends turn out to be great and it’s nice not to be so lonely in life. 

Chirrut and Baze, the married couple who lives 2 floors above him, come over with a pizza one evening. Jyn’s working late again and the apartment is a mess but Cassian finds himself liking them a lot more than he thought he would.

“We’d bring Chinese but we don’t like to add to stereotypes,” Chirrut informs him when Baze drops the pizza boxes on the table, shoving aside what looks like Jyn’s white scarf and a brown shoelace.

“Sorry about the mess,” Cassian apologizes, helplessly looking around what used to be his pristine, minimalistic apartment. “Jyn tends to just leave her stuff everywhere.”

Like her toothbrush inexplicably abandoned on the coffee table at least three times this week. Or one of her boots on the kitchen floor. Or her bra casually hanging from the living room chair.

“We know,” Baze chuckles and hands him a slice of pizza. “You mentioned this when she moved in.”

“But things are good between you two?” Chirrut asks shamelessly and Baze just rolls his eyes.

“Yes, all’s good. She’s good. I’m good. It’s all... you know... good.”

Cassian is sure he can’t sink any lower than that. He chews his pizza for a moment before deciding that yes, of course he can: “Do you happen to have any stories about me and Jyn where I’m not making a fool out of myself?”

“Not really,” Baze answers very frankly and Chirrut chuckles at that. “You did learn all the British monarchs in chronological order just to impress her with your knowledge on all things UK.”

“And I suppose she was-”

“Very much not impressed,” Chirrut finishes triumphantly and Cassian just sighs in resignation.

He’s cooking dinner one night when he hears the front door open. Jyn drags herself in, kicking off her shoes and shrugging off her coat  and before he can ask about her zombie-like state she wraps her arms around him and buries her nose between his shoulder blades. He can’t help it - he freezes, his whole body suddenly tense which in turn makes her freeze, her lethargy instantly gone.

“Sorry, I wasn’t thinking,” she mumbles and Cassian grabs her wrists before she can fully pull away. Neither of them dares to move until he can feel her slightly relax, taking a tentative step closer. He lets go of her hands and smiles.

“Any plans for Saturday?” he casually asks her.

She moves then and leans on the kitchen counter, looking at him with suspicion.

“No. Why?”

“I thought we could go out,” he says softly, trying to sound as reassuring as he can. “Dinner, movies. What do you say?”

“Like a date?” There’s still a trace of doubt in her voice. Like it’s a trap or a cruel joke. It hurts him more than he thought it would.

“Yeah, like a date,” he tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and their eyes lock.

“Cassian,” she whispers, the tension suddenly overwhelming and he can’t help but wonder if this is it. The perfect moment for a kiss.

It’s not.

“Are you trying to be suave now?” She manages to utter between uncontrollable giggles.

“Laugh all you want,” he declares grumpily, “but one thing that I’ve learned these past weeks is how much of a lovesick fool I was around you.”

She laughs even harder at that.

“No, please, mock me some more,” he continues, turning back to the now slightly burned dinner. “I was like a mix of a total dork, a schoolboy with a crush and a fucking stalker.”

He hears her still howling with laughter and he’s genuinely unsure if he’s more embarrassed by Jyn’s Cassian or the current Cassian. But when she puts her hand on his arm and tenderly kisses his cheek it stops mattering.

He gets his memory back two days after their second first date.