#he has white hair eye bags pretends to be nice and is actually scheming writes in a diary

[merakiui]

Rollo covering his mouth with his handkerchief in disgust will never not be funny to me 😂

He’s so cute. 🥺 it’s so silly and yet so perfect for his character. My favorite thing about this is incorporating the handkerchief in fics and having Rollo using it as a barrier of sorts when he kisses you for the first time. <3 bare lips touching is too much for him!!!! He would combust on the spot.

[mysterioh]

little things | b.b.

Pairing: Modern!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Weddings bring people together. It brought Bucky back to you. Problem is, you don’t want to see him.  

Requested by @anjali750​ !! Thank you so much for requesting and I hope that you like it!! I feel like I could’ve made this better but I didn’t want it to be too long. 

W/C: ~4080  

Prompt: “I was doing fine, really, and then you waltz back in like you didn’t break my heart.”

It’s funny how the little things about a person, things you once adored, turn into the things you now despise. 

When Bucky Barnes sauntered into the room, fashionably dressed in his absolute best, it was the little things about him that made you hate him. 

The smooth swipe of his fingers through his hair. The way his words danced with a chuckle when someone teased him. How his eyes twinkled under the light despite their cool visage. 

The little things you once loved about him were now something you looked on with contempt. 

How dare he show himself after so long? 

You had to admit. It wasn't really his fault. He was brought here into this room just as you were. 

In celebration of the engagement of the future Mr. and Mrs. Wilson. 

---

"I swear you're out to get me," you complained, slouching into the rattan chair in Natasha's apartment. "You hate me, don't you?" 

"I do not hate you," Natasha sighed, flipping through a magazine of wedding venues. "I wouldn't make you maid of honor at my wedding if I hated you." 

"But you just had to pick him, didn't you?" You sat straight up. 

"It's not my choice to make, Y/N," she replied, eyes still scanning her magazine. "It's Sam's and he chose Bucky. There's nothing I can do about that." 

“What about Steve?” you counter, “he exists!” 

“Steve just had a baby,” Nat retorted, turning the page. “Well not Steve but Sharon. Sam would’ve asked him but he felt like Steve’s busy with the baby. Bucky is his best friend too y’know.” 

“Likely story,” you grunt, turning your head away from her. “You’re all scheming against me.” 

“Oh for God’s sake, Y/N!” Nat drops the magazine onto her lap. “Would you stop being so cynical? Not everyone is out to get you,” she states. “Who knows? Maybe you’ll actually enjoy it..”

“Aha!” you point an accusatory finger at her. “I see what you’re trying to do here!” 

Nat groans audibly. “What? What am I trying to do?” she questions irritatedly. 

“You’re trying to get us both back together!” you exclaim. “Too bad sis! It ain’t gonna happen!” 

“You’ve gone mad,” she sighs, shaking her head. Nat stands up and walks around the coffee table and towards the hall. “Believe what you want. You’re my maid of honor. He’s the best man. Deal with it.” 

You grumble, sinking deeper into your chair. “If I see his ass anywhere near me, I’m drop kicking him,” you stated. 

“You will do no such thing!” 

---

Bucky tries his best to keep his focus on the conversation at hand, but his thoughts keep wandering, taking his eyes along with them to the opposite end of the room. 

You stood by the bar with a glass of alcohol as your only companion. Your form was turned slightly away from him, leaving the curve of bare back in perfect view for him to see. 

He watches shamelessly, his eyes drink you in, despite the fact that he thinks he’s ogling you—which he is. 

He shouldn’t be. He didn’t deserve to. 

But could he blame himself?

You look gorgeous. 

Your dress is a heavenly creamy off white, bejeweled with gold embroidery around the chest and hips. His eyes follow the long slit that runs along the side of your leg, trailing along the path of skin likened to smooth caramel, until cold blue clashes with warm hazel. 

Crap.

You freeze when your eyes lock with his. He’s halfway across the room and you still managed to gain his attention. You avert your gaze and place your glass on the counter gently before disappearing into the crowd. 

Bucky sulks when he sees you leave. 

You hate him. 

He knows that. 

But even so, he wishes he’d get a chance to make it alright. 

“Nat,” you tap on her shoulder from behind. 

The redhead turns from the guest she’s speaking with to find you agitated. Red cheeked and lip biting. 

“Everything alright?” 

“Uh, I think I’m going to call it a night,” you reply. 

“Already?” Nat asks. You nodded quickly. “Is this about—”

“Don’t,” you stop her. “Just let me go?” you ask softly. 

“Fine,” she sighs with a frown. She gives you a hug goodbye. “I’ll call you later, alright?” 

You nodded with a smile and made your way out the door. You fumble with your clutch to take out your keys. Not watching where you were going, you bump into someone.

“Oh, I’m sorry—” you pause, when your eyes meet his again. 

“Right now would be a good time for that dropkick,” The Jiminy Cricket in your head spoke.

“Hey, Y/N,” he smiles, voice lilting with his words like he’s happy to see you. 

“Oh, uh, hi, Bucky,” you stutter nervously.

“How have you been?” he asks.

No, don’t start a conversation with me. 

“I’ve been good,” you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, diverting your gaze to the right. You always did when you were nervous. “You?” 

“Great,” he replies, “it’s good to be back home.” 

Your eyes finally fall on him. He’s still the same old Bucky. That same sweet smile. The familiar scent of brisk cologne. Still the prettiest blue eyes you’ve ever seen. 

Stop staring, dumbass. 

“It’s been a while?” he breaks the awkward silence. 

Yeah, four years is quite a while. 

“Yeah, it has been,” you smiled softly, “back for the wedding?” 

Of course, he’s back for the wedding, moron. Stop acting so stupid. 

“No, for good.” 

What? No. No. No. No.  

“Wow! Really?” you asked with a nervous chuckle. “Finally got bored of travelling?” you blurted with a sharp twinge. 

That wasn’t supposed to come out the way it did. 

“Uh, yeah,” he chuckles in reply. “I guess I did." There's a bit of disappointment in his eyes. 

Good. 

"You’re leaving?” 

“Yeah, I’m going home,” you nodded. 

"Here, let me–" 

"No, it's fine," you interrupted. "I can walk by myself," you gave him an awkward smile, taking a few steps backward. "Besides I think Steve was looking for you." 

"Oh," he whispers disappointed. "I'll go see him then. It was nice seeing you again," he smiles warmly while turning. 

Shut the fuck up. 

"Good night," he wishes. 

"Yeah, you too," you said, before quickly turning and dashing out the door. 

Bucky sighs deeply. He knew you were lying. 

You always played with a strand of your hair when you lied. 

A little thing you thought he had forgotten. 

Months had passed since the engagement and life was thrown back into its normal routine. 

The awkward meeting with Bucky became one of those horrible memories that came up at three in the morning when sleep wouldn’t come. But other than that, he didn’t phase your thoughts. 

Four years ago, you loved Bucky. Enough for you to say you wanted to spend the rest of your life with him. 

But Bucky had other plans. He wanted to see the world. Places you’ve only seen on screensavers. He was ambitious and adventurous. An extrovert with a passion for the unknown. You were the opposite. An introvert cooped up in her room writing those very adventures he dreamed of. 

So when he got the chance to travel the world as a photographer, you didn’t stop him. You knew just how much it meant to him. It was his dream. But it hurt how his one dream never had a picture of you in it. 

He never asked if you wanted to come with him. Instead he wanted to break it off. 

It became clear to you that the three years you spent together meant nothing to him. Three years worth of fights and reconciliation, of understanding and appreciation, of promises professed as whispers underneath a glassed moonlit sky, meant nothing to him. 

You learned the minute he walked out the door, ticket in one hand and suitcase in the other, that sometimes a love given in full was not one fully returned. 

It took time, but you got over him. With tubs of ice cream and supportive friends, you made it through and came out stronger than ever. You earned yourself a great book deal with a well-known publisher, and were even lauded as a rising star in literary circles across the nation. You were set on a path to succeed, to live the life you dreamed for yourself. And there was no sight of Bucky Barnes in that dream at all. 

Until you stepped foot onto the ancient cobblestone paths of the island of Crete. The shore was a graceful arc of sand, glittering under the July sun, a perfect place for a placid ocean to lap. The waves rolled in a soothing sound, the salty waters a brief flurry of sand. 

The warm caress of an afternoon breeze from the briny waves of the Aegean Sea felt like heaven against your skin. Even with the sun burning onto the bare skin not hidden by your sundress, you can’t help but absorb the serenity that radiates from the shore of Elafonisi. 

“Y/N!” Nat’s voice pierces through the sweet silence as her head sticks out of the car. Red hair flowing in the wind wildly just like the hand that’s waving to you. 

You smile sheepishly, waving at her from your spot in front of the airport. She jumps out of the car the minute it stops and hugs you. “You made it!” she exclaims. 

“Of course I’d make it,” you reply with a laugh. “Why wouldn’t I?” 

“Nat started freaking out when you said your flight got delayed,” Sam replied, walking up to you and giving you a hug. 

“I was not!” she retorts. “I was completely calm.” 

“You and calm are two things that could never be put together,” a voice comes from behind and it makes you want to scream. Bucky walks up to the crowd of three and Nat hits him on the shoulder, earning a chuckle from him. 

“Hey, Y/N,” he greets with a smile. 

“Hi, Bucky,” your voice is plain. 

“Had a nice flight?” 

“Yeah.” 

You glare at Natasha but she pretends as if you aren’t. 

“Here let me take your bags,” Bucky offers, reaching forward. 

“No, that’s fine,” you replied, but he doesn’t have it and takes them anyway. 

“Hey, Sammy, unlock the trunk for me, will ya?” Bucky asks, walking to the back of the car. 

Sam nods, walking around to him. 

You take Nat’s hand by the wrist and squeeze tightly, making her look directly at you. 

“Why did you bring him?” you whisper harshly. 

“He wanted to come,” she replies in the same manner. “I couldn’t say no.” 

“You could have.” 

“Why don’t you give the guy a chance?” 

“How about no?” 

Nat rolls her eyes. “Do what you want,” she walks away, you pull her back. 

“You’re sitting in the back with me,” you ordered. 

“You have got to be kidding me,” she groans, placing her hand on her hip. 

“Do I look like I am?” 

She yanks her hand from yours. “Fine,” she sighs, opening the door to the car. 

---

Bucky looks at you from the corner of his eye. You leaned against the car door, arm propped up to hold your chin, sun hat resting on your lap. As you watched the passing scenery, the wind from the opened window blew through your hair. 

It’s a bit shorter this time. 

It looks nice. 

Your lips are pulled down into a disgruntled expression as Nat rambles on about the wedding schedule. 

You’re not listening, completely submerged into your thoughts. 

Bucky chuckles quietly to himself. 

Always the daydreamer. 

“Y/N, are you even listening?” Natasha asks. 

“Hmm?” you turn towards her.

“You’ve bored her to death, Nat,” Bucky replies for you, turning his back so he could get a real look at you. “She likes adventure novels.” 

“Actually I was listening,” you retorted sharply. “She said we have practice at the church at ten tomorrow. Don’t be late, Barnes.” You turn back to your window gazing, leaving the three completely silent. 

Sam snorts, unable to keep his amusement inside. Bucky slaps him on the arm then turns back into his seat with a loud thud. A smirk creeps its way onto your face. 

Home : 1

Guest: 0

“Good Morning, Y/N,” Bucky greets cheerfully. 

Suddenly, your orange juice tastes sour in your mouth. You turn towards him with a horribly forced, sweet smile. 

“Good Morning, Bucky.” 

“It’s 9:58,” he points to his watch, “so that means I’m not late.” 

You look at him blankly, tired of hiding your distaste of him. “Congratulations, I could honestly care less.” 

“You should care,” he points with a mock frown like he’s teasing you. 

I’m about to start swinging. 

“Where there’s no you, there’s no me. Where there’s no me, there’s no you.” 

How fucking poetic. 

“We’re an integral part of this wedding, L/N,” he chuckles. 

“I see your horrible sense of humor hasn’t changed,” you bite. 

“And you still have that snarky twist to yours,” he retorts, leaning against the wall of the church hall, eyes straight on you. 

Stop admiring her, dumbass. 

You cross your arms and divert your gaze from him as if you’re ashamed. 

“I don’t mean it in a bad way,” he quickly corrects himself, standing straight. “It’s a good thing, I’ve missed it,” he confesses. 

Your head whips towards him, shocked eyes meeting his. A scarlet red scatters on your cheeks the same way they do on his. 

The tips of his ears burn the brightest hue of red that only happened when he was extremely nervous or embarrassed. 

A little piece of information your brain cared to remember. 

“Uhm, uh, what I meant was—” he starts to stutter. 

You look away again, not wanting to hear another word. You catch Yelena walking by with a few baskets of decorations in her hands. You quickly walk towards her, leaving Bucky in the dust. 

“Here, Yelena, let me help you,” you place your hands on the baskets she was holding. 

“Oh, it’s okay, Y/N, I can handle—”

“No,” you tug on the basket. “please let me help,” you strained through gritted teeth. Yelena raises a brow and looks over your shoulder to see an awkwardly placed Bucky standing behind you. 

“Oh! Yes, please help me!” she yells handing you a basket. “These are oh so heavy!” she laughs. 

Taking the basket from her, you follow here out of the hall and into the sanctuary. 

All Bucky wishes is that you’d look back at him one time. Just once. 

But why would you?

He never turned back when he left. Not even once. 

---

“The Best Man and the Maid of Honor will come out together,” the coordinator stated. 

You grumble quietly, giving a glance in Bucky’s direction. He catches you looking and gives you a wink paired with a smile. You turn away quickly and keep your eyes strictly on the coordinator as she verbally listed the instructions of the procession. 

After a painstaking thirty minutes of instructions and tips, the wedding party lined up in order of entrance. Bucky and you were placed right before the flower girl and the ring bearer and after the bridesmaids and groomsmen. Allowing Bucky to make trivial conversation. You were literally linked with him with your arm hooked in his. 

He rambles on about something stupid. Or at least you think it’s something stupid. You’re not really listening so you couldn’t really tell. 

“You know I’ve read your book,” he states. 

“What?” 

“There you go daydreaming again,” he shakes his head with a chuckle, taking a step forward. 

You huff at him. “I was not.” 

“You haven’t listened to a word I’ve said in the past ten minutes.” 

“Not my fault you’re boring,” you hurl at him, taking another step forward, coming closer to your turn. 

Bucky frowns playfully. “Ouch, so mean,” he whines. 

The couple in front of you begins to walk down the aisle, leaving Bucky and you at the doors. 

“Good luck, guys!” Nat cheers from the back. 

You turn with the biggest scowl on your face which she received with a wide smile and thumbs up.

The two of you get the signal to walk and proceed with even steps. 

“I said that I read your book,” Bucky recalls. 

You turn your head to look up at him. “You—you did?” you stuttered. 

He nodded with a smile. “Yeah, I got stuck at the airport in Berlin cause of a delay and saw your book in the window of a bookstore, so I bought it. I read it in one sitting.”

Your heart beats wildly and palms grow wet. “Um thank you,” you whisper sheepishly. 

“No, thank you,” he chuckles. “I enjoyed it very much. You did an amazing job.” 

You smile small in appreciation of his words, but quickly harden your heart. “You don’t have to be so nice,” you reply, letting go of his arm just as you reach the end of the aisle. 

Bucky couldn’t tell what made chills run down his spine. The cold tone of your voice or the way you let go of him so easily.

“Who’s the cutest baby in the world?” Steve cooes. The little girl in his hands giggles at her father’s words. “You are! You’re the cutest baby in the world. Ah, look at those eyes,” he fawns, “just as pretty as mama’s.” 

Bucky groans loudly, slouching into the chair in the hotel room. 

“What’s with you?” Steve diverts his attention to Bucky. 

“Nothing,” he mumbles. 

“It’s Y/N, isn’t it?” he drops it on him like a bomb. 

An embarrassingly red blush creeps on his cheeks. “I never said that!” 

“I don’t know who you’re trying to fool, but it’s not working,” Steve retorts, bouncing the baby on his knee. 

“I just—I don’t know why she hates me,” Bucky says. 

Steve gives him a look as if he’s in The Office. “You don’t know why she hates you?” he asks incredulously. 

“No,” he shakes his head. “I know why she hates me,” he sighs. “I just don’t know how to make it up to her. I want to fix things, but what’s the point if she won’t even give me a chance to speak two words to her.” 

Steve covers his little girl’s ears. “How about you stop being a whiny bitch and stop beating around the bush? Stop the whole nice guy act and just come clean to her. Give her the raw feelings and not this flowery, teasing bullshit you’ve got going on. You’re a fucking adult for crying out loud. Start acting like one.” 

Bucky opens his mouth to speak, but he doesn’t have any words. Steve had a point, but he didn’t have to say it the way he did. 

“I’m telling Sharon you said that in front of Sarah.” 

“You tell her anything and you’re gonna be walking down the aisle with a missing tooth.” 

Elafonisi was just as beautiful at night as it was in the day. The waters danced underneath the moonlight. The stars sparkled in the sky. You marvelled in the simplicity of the beach. No towering skyscrapers and bustling crowds. No flashing screens and odd smells. 

It’s like paradise. 

A cool ocean breeze brushes against your skin like kisses from the divine. The air was thick with a cacophony of aroma. Pungents smells of rosemary, thyme, and lemon trees mix with the faint smell of slowly roasted meat coming from inside the hotel. 

It’s been a long day of practice and preparation. You’ve been around way too many people than you normally enjoyed and decided to take a break from it all. And you couldn’t find a better place than being hidden on the canopied balcony that jutted out of the building. 

Peace and quiet. Just the way you liked it. 

“I thought I’d find you out here.” Bucky approaches you on the balcony. 

Of fucking course. 

“I wish you didn’t,” you murmured. 

“What was that?” 

“Nothing.” 

Bucky comes to stand next to you, he rests his forearms on the stone fence. “It’s nice here,” he says, “I came here about two years ago, but it feels like the first. Crete is a beauty.”

“I’ve seen the pictures.” 

“Hmm?” 

“The pictures you took,” you explained. “I’ve seen them all.” 

Bucky’s heart flips at your words. A lazy smile tugs at his lips as he turns towards you. “Have you been stalking my Instagram?” 

“No! Nat showed me.” you yell at him, hoping he couldn’t see the blush on your cheeks. Anger rushes through your veins. “You’re so full of yourself,” you snarl, turning on your heel you walk away only for him to catch you by the wrist. 

“Y/N, I was just joking,” he said, pulling you closer.

You tug your arm out of his grasp. “Stop joking with me,” you hiss. “Stop pretending to be my friend. Stop acting like everything’s completely fine between us when it’s not!”

“Y/N, let me explain,” he pleads.

“No,” you deny. “I don’t want your explanation. It’s too late for that now. I’ve spent four years without a good one and I don’t need one now. I was doing fine, really, and then you waltz back in like you didn’t break my heart,” you choke out. 

Tears brim at the corner of your eyes, threatening to fall if you said another word. You’re not going to cry in front of him. You didn’t back then and you sure as hell weren’t going to now. 

“Just please do me a favor and leave me alone?” you ask quietly. 

“I can’t,” he shakes his head. “I can’t leave you alone. I did that once before and it was the biggest mistake of my life,” he confesses. “I was young. I was foolish and I thought what I wanted was out there somewhere but in reality it was always right next to me. It was always just you.” 

His eyes tell the truth and that was what truly angered you. Even after four years, he still had a way of breaking through your hard exterior.

“Then why didn’t you come back?” you asked, voice straining, eyes holding back the tears. 

Bucky looks down at his feet. The crash of the ocean waves in distance calms him, letting the feelings he harbored for so many years flow out of his mouth. 

“Because I was ashamed. Because I felt like you wouldn’t want me back after how much I’ve hurt you,” he looks up nervously. 

“When I saw you at the engagement party I knew I had to at least try to get you back,” he says, hoarsely.  “You know I suck at confrontation, it freaks me out,” he chuckles awkwardly, keeping his own tears at bay. He swallows deep then sniffles. “But I’m here now and all I’m asking for is one chance? One chance to make it alright?” 

“I can’t,” you shake your head and it makes his heart fall. “I don’t think I’m ready.” 

“We don’t have to start where we left off,” he quickly replies, pleading for his case. “We can start over if that’s what you want. We can take it slow.” 

You look at him, quietly thinking about his proposition. He’s willing to fix things. Even if it meant starting over from scratch so he could rebuild the foundation of trust he had foolishly destroyed. He’s willing to put in the extra hours. So who were you to say no?

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t think about being with him again. 

Bucky was still the one you wanted to spend your life with. He always was and always will be. 

“Baby steps?” you whisper.

Bucky’s lips curve into a half smile. A small chuckle escapes them. “Yeah, anything you want sweetheart.” 

Your lips follow his. “I want to start again.” 

Bucky smiles, brighter than the moon. He takes your hand gently in his and kisses the back of it with a nod. 

It was the little things about him. The little things you wanted to believe you hated. The feel of his lips against your skin. The warmth in his eyes that he only showed you. 

The little things you once loved about him and continued to, even after so long, gave you the surety that a love given in full can be given fully in return. Sometimes it just takes a little time. 

FIN

[mydisenchantedeulogy]

Invincible [Chapter 11] Good Feeling [Katsuki Bakugou]

“Try to remember that quirks can put a strain on the body. They are an extension of power, but without proper training the user can suffer greatly,” the nurse with a bow in her hair explains. She writes several things down on her clip board as she lectures me. “In your case, Miss Usui, your mind isn’t strong enough for the amount of stress you put on it. I’d suggest taking it easy for a couple of days. Then, once you are able to, try strengthening your mind a little. Don’t push yourself too much, but widen the limits of your control.”

I agree with her, even though I am upset with it. The news fills like salt on a wound. It seems like the practice I put in during the 10 months before the practical exam were for nothing. I may have exceeded my limits, but not by much. My mother had pushed far beyond hers in such a sort time. It feels awful that I can’t.

“Does this mean I can go home?”

The nurse with a bow in her hair gives me a quick smile, then glances down at her clipboard again. “Looks so. You seem to be able to stand without feeling dizzy, and according to your tests you have a slight heart arrhythmia, but it’s nothing serious. I’ll ask that you avoid stressing yourself. If it persists; the dizziness and shortness of breath, you should come back immediately.”

“I understand,” I tell her.

She hands me a paper with my diagnosis on it, explaining my reason for being hospitalized, then allows me to go. I have been checked out already. The nurse tells me that the person is waiting out in the hallway for me, and once she leaves the room, she allows them in. I am surprised to see Katsuki here.

He comes over to the bedside and moves my food tray to the side, placing down a small bag with my necessities in it. He then sits in the chair across from me.

“Classes are canceled for the day. The school is being investigated, so you didn’t miss much.” Katsuki looks me over. “Get dressed. We’re going on that date I promised you.”

I am confused. I remember winning the date, but I don’t see why he’d choose today to take me. It’s Thursday afternoon. I have been in the hospital since yesterday. The way I see it, Katsuki should take the day for himself. He needs to relax too.

“Are you sure? You fought harder than me at USJ. Don’t you want to spend the rest of the day at home?”

“Of course I do, fuck munch.” His reply is course. He sounds tired, but I don’t comment on it, and allow him to continue. “However, I lost. You made a decent score in the practical exam, so I’d be a liar if I didn’t take you out. Today is a better time to go, then this weekend.”

I don’t argue with him. Instead, I grab the bag and stand up. I’ll get dressed in the bathroom. This morning I had taken a shower, so I am good to go. Once I am inside the confines of the stark white room, I close the door and strip out of my hospital gown. I take each of the items out of the bag; my underclothes and bathroom supplies. The last item is a white dress with light blue snowflakes printed on the fabric. I remember this dress. My mother had bought it for me to apologize for missing the snow festival last year. She had said it reminded her of the statue of the snow woman in one of the pictures my father took. I love this dress. How does Katsuki know?

Once I’m done, I bag my stuff and leave the room. I decide to leave my hair down today, since it’s nice outside. Katsuki glances up at me, and sits his phone down in his lap.

“Is something wrong?”

He scowls at me. “You look nice, dumbass. The dress is out of season for this weather, but it suits you.”

I feel my face heat up. Did he really just compliment me? It was very Katsuki-like, but still, he actually gave me a decent compliment. “Are you sure that you’re up for this? You seem different. Are you sick?”

“Piss off,” he snaps. “I was only telling you that you look nice, so you won’t complain. I don’t have time for your mood swings.”

He should take some time to look in the mirror. He’s the one with the mood swings. Even so, I am happy that he likes it. His father works in the fashion industry, so I assume some of his comment spawns from the this fact. His mother might kill him if he leaves the house wearing something vile. The truth is, he looks nice anytime he goes out.

I give him a quick glance over, and slip my arms behind my back. Suddenly I feel very shy. He’s wearing a red shirt beneath a black button-down that he keeps completely open. Sometimes I wonder if Masaru dresses him before he goes out. I’ve seen what he wears at home; sweatpants and shirts with violent logos on them. I doubt they’d let him walk around the city like a thug. However, I will admit, he looks nice either way.

“Ready to go?”

Katsuki stands up and leads me from the room. Once we make it down to the lobby I notice my father. I call out to him and run across the room to speak with him.

“Glad to see your doing better, kiddo.” He pats my head. “I came here to check you out, but I ran into Bakugou on the way. He mentioned taking you out on a date, so I waited here to get your bag from you.”

I laugh, honestly happy to see him. “Thank you for bringing the dress.”

“It was Sachiko’s idea,” he admits. Sachiko is my mother’s name. Somehow I had known that she was behind this.

My father rakes his fingers through his light-colored hair, and dips his head towards Katsuki. “I’ll be heading back now. Try to have Airi home before dark.” He pats my head once again, and takes my bag from me. I wave goodbye to him as he leaves. Soon after, Katsuki and I follow after, heading into the city.

I glance around at the shops, enjoying the bustle of the busy urban environment. But, Katsuki pulls me from my thoughts.

“Where do you want to go?”

I frown; honestly I don’t know. “I don’t care. Anywhere is fine with me.”

“Don’t give me that bullshit. I know better than that,” the blond argues. “If I listen to you and take you somewhere you don’t want to go, you’ll complain the whole time. Now answer the damn question.”

“What about you? How do you spend your day in the city?”

“I go to the arcade,” he says with a sigh.

I recall him going to the arcade a lot with his friends. I had assumed it was something they liked to do. Katsuki had never taken me with them, so I knew nothing about it. Honestly I am happy. This is something new about him that I am learning. I want to be someone he can enjoy himself with.

“I’ve never been to an arcade before,” I admit. “Let’s go there.”

He agrees to take me and leads me to a game center that is five stories high. I can’t believe how massive this place is. We take the escalator up to the fourth floor – Katsuki refers to it as the floor with the fighting games. Once we’re there, Katsuki picks a game. It’s a 2 player station with knobs and buttons. The idea is to fight each other until one of us wins. I chose a character with a color scheme of hot pink; Katsuki choses a male character that’s like him, uses explosives. The round begins.

Katsuki beats me the first round, but once I have the moves down, I easily beat him. During the last round, I manage to beat him again. He narrows his eyes at me, stating that I used the same move over and over. I agree, but at least I beat him.

The credit screen pops up and I am allowed to type my name in. I notice a familiar name amongst them and laugh.

“King of Explodo-kills. Is that you?”

He nods, despite being upset about his loss. I am impressed. Katsuki is really good at a lot of things he does. He has a high score in this game, which it pretty cool. I didn’t do bad, but I doubt I’d be able to beat Katsuki’s score.

“Give me a name,” I order him. The blond furrows his brows so I explain better. “You have a nickname. I want one too.”

Katsuki agrees, taking the knob in his hand. He begins to type in a name while I wait in anticipation. Once he’s done I hiss annoyance. The screen reads fuck-munch. I poke at his cheek.

“I demand a rename. You can’t write anything with curse words in it,” I argue.

Katsuki ignores me and grabs my hand. He pulls me over to a new game, and we begin playing. He curses at me as I button punch again. Sooner or later, he’ll see that playing fighting games with me is pointless. He’ll never win.

--

Hours pass by on the fourth floor. I am having fun. Once we get bored of fighting games, Katsuki takes me to the first floor to try my hand at the crane machines. I am surprisingly good at this and score a cute, sleeping Pichu plush. It reminds me of Denki, so I laugh.

Katsuki doesn’t seem to like crane machines much, but that’s okay. I notice a photo sticker booth in the corner of the room and drag him over to it. He takes some convincing, but I manage to do so. We enter the booth and pay the machine, getting an option for 4 pictures. I chose this option. Within seconds we are asked to pose, and the timer begins to count down.

“How should we pose?”

“I’m not going to pose. Just let it take the pictures so we can get out of here,” Katsuki tells me.

I can’t allow that. At the last few seconds, I reach over and use my fingers to pull up the corners of Katsuki’s lips. The camera snaps before he can protest. The next picture is wasted with him glaring at me. I pretend to never have touched him. In the third photo, I lean forward and kiss his cheek – his face turns red. The last photo is next, so I beg him to make it count. I smile and lean against his shoulder. He faces the camera, but flips it off once the shutter snaps. Honestly, I am not mad. This is Katsuki; king of pride.

As we leave the booth, I pick up the pictures and look them over. They’re kind of cute. I defiantly like the two were Katsuki is being himself, so I decide to keep them. I offer the first 2 over to him, which he looks at with a soft expression, then shoves into his pocket.

We decide to leave the arcade and head home. It’s getting late. On the way, Katsuki buys me a cupcake from the bakery. He catches me trying to peek at a fan service magazine at the stand across the street, and calls me a pervert. Guilty pleasures; I can’t help it. I pout at his name calling and take the cupcake. It looks delicious. I thank him and eat it happily as we continue to walk.

“You eat like a damn pig, Airi. There’s frosting on your face,” Katsuki hisses at me.

He stops and uses his thumb to wipe the chocolate frosting from the corner of my mouth. My face instantly goes warm. Since when does he use my first name? Maybe I am overthinking this. Maybe I’m not. I really do like Katsuki a lot. A smile pulls at my lips.

“The hell are you smiling for?”

“I’m just happy is all,” I admit. “I like being with you.”

I notice the blush spread across Katsuki’s face. He seems embarrassed, which is cute. Wish I could know what he’s thinking. Maybe he likes me too.

“Do you consider this a date?”

“Yeah, I guess. Why do you ask?”

A sly smile pulls at my lips. “I just wanted to hear you say it, is all.”

Katsuki glares at me, then takes my cupcake and smashes it against my face. I can feel the frosting coat my skin. My poor cupcake. Annoyance boils in me.

“I can’t believe you did that,” I pout. “I don’t like you very much anymore.”

Katsuki scoffs. “I don’t believe that.”

“Then you’re right. I don’t hate you,” I admit. I wipe some of the icing away, and lick it off my fingers. “You’re a good boyfriend, Katsuki. Even those times you tried to talk sense into me. I wasn’t lying when I said that.”

Katsuki slips off his button-down and starts to wipe away the icing on my face. This makes me kind of sad, considering I like the piece of fabric. But, he owes me for ruining my cupcake.

“We’ve been dating since middle school; longer if you consider preschool,” he says suddenly.

I feel my stomach flutter. “Do you?”

“It’s something the hag told me before I left the house,” he recalls, ignoring my question completely. “She calls it a childhood romance.”

“Sounds weird,” I admit. Do people still have this? I never thought of what we have as a romance. I just thought of it as something life partners have. It’s strange to think of us as actual lovers. We don’t act like a couple.

“No shit,” Katsuki agrees with me.

“Are we an actual couple?”

Katsuki scrubs at my face. “Kind of stupid to disagree now. That fucking hedgehog already told everyone we are. You didn’t disagree, so now you’re stuck with me. Like it or not, you’re my girlfriend.”

“I can live with that,” I agree with a smile. “However, don’t you think calling me a fuck-munch is a little mean. You should be a little nicer to me.”

“Not a fucking chance,” the blond hisses. He grabs my nose and squeezes hard.

I cry out in pain, swatting at his hand. He’s the absolute meanest person I have ever had the pleasure of meeting. “I take it back. I don’t think I like you. When I get home, I’m looking for a new boyfriend. Maybe one of those cuties from that magazine.”

“Good luck, pervert. None of those dumbasses can equal up to me,” the blond boasts.

I wrap my arm with his and walk beside him to the station. The truth is, I wouldn’t trade him for the world. I just wish he wouldn’t tease me so much. A smile pulls at my lips. Tough luck, I guess.

[ersonist]

where i would be if you hadn't found me

title: where I would be if you hadn’t found me

rating: t

word count: 6,359 (This was supposed to be a drabble, I don't know what happened.)

a/n: modern AU in which Jyn is secretly a sci-fi fan, Cassian works too much and somehow I still made it all angsty. Also went really meta, my apologies. No beta - I literally wrote it in one sitting at work to get it out of my system (who cares about deadlines, right? the correct answer is my boss actually...). Title’s from dodie’s sick of losing soulmates.

Written for RebelCaptain Appreciation Week, Day Four: AU of your choice || Writing Prompt: Nerve.

the original trilogy

She sees the leaflet pinned to the bulletin board outside her campus apartment. “May the Power be yours” it proclaims in bold, orange letters that the generations of geeks and movie buffs have come to know, love and incessantly quote out of context. She’s already late for her first morning class but she stops anyway, staring at it for a moment that is definitely longer than necessary to memorise all the details. She notices the same poster on her way back home and with a quick glance around she quietly rips it down and stuffs in her bag.

“There’s a Galactic Battles marathon organised next weekend,” she nonchalantly tells Bodhi while pouring a copious amount of milk into her tea, turning it meringue shade of white. The air is pleasantly cool that morning - a nice change from the recent heat of San Diego’s summer - so they keep the windows open, letting in the sounds of the life outside. Faint radio chatter, a dog barking in the distance. She takes a sip, stealing a glance at her friend from behind the oversized mug. He looks frozen, strawberry jam dripping from the knife in one hand, a piece of bread in the other.

“You want to go?” There’s a clear surprise in his voice, his breakfast already forgotten.

Jyn just shrugs, takes out the crumpled paper from the bag hanging on her chair and puts it between them on the table. It’s torn at the edge, cutting the word ‘yours’ in two.

“I thought... You know, you never mention him... it,” he corrects quickly avoiding her gaze.

There’s one last piece of toast left untouched on Bodhi’s plate and Jyn grabs it playfully just to prove how banal she finds this conversation. As if they’d talk about her dead father over a breakfast on regular basis. Her hand doesn’t even shake when she does it and she idly wonders if this is what moving on genuinely looks like.

“You’re a shrink now? This is not why I asked you to be my flatmate,” she quips with a forced grin that Bodhi pretends not to notice.

It’s because you’re the only family I have left, she wants to say but as always decides to keep to herself. They might be life-long friends but she’s nowhere near that level of sentimental. Besides, she’s pretty sure he knows that already.

Bodhi doesn’t dignify any of this with a comment. He just gives her a warm smile that reminds her of the rainy afternoons they spent building blanket forts in the living room of her parents’ London apartment. She can feel that empty ache again, closing her throat, threatening to spill a chocked sob at the memory of toy soldiers and Lego spaceships, and her parents bickering over whether Jaffa Cakes are biscuits or cakes. They have nothing on Anthon Berg, her father would always conclude with a laugh.

She finishes her tea in one gulp and wordlessly leaves the kitchen. When she comes back after the classes she finds the leaflet pinned to their fridge.

Turns out she doesn’t like movie marathons. Or maybe it’s because sci-fi tends to bring out the weirdest of people? For one, she’s one of the few people not in a costume. Even Bodhi, that traitor, borrowed a leather jacket to resemble the trilogy’s famous smuggler. Frankly Jyn has a feeling that this is just an additional point in the grand scheme of impressing some golden farmboy from his Aerospace Structures class. Of course the guy’s attendance that evening is purely coincidental as Bodhi assured her earlier and she had to bite her lip to keep from laughing.

The hall is getting crowded, noisier by every minute and it’s clear that this old, artsy movie theatre is not used to such large audience. She almost feels sorry for the stone faced usher who is trying to control the situation. He doesn’t even flinch when the enthusiastic fans are waving those ridiculous plastic weapons over his head. He looks resigned and just as out of place as she feels.

“You don’t want a good seat?” She hears a voice behind her, the tone casual and friendly, and she groans at the thought of talking to some avid fanboy. She turns around with a heavy sigh and a scowl already firmly placed on her face. An older man with a white cane is definitely not the kind of person she expected though.

“It’s fine, my friend dragged me here. I don’t even like these that much,” she lies through her teeth but judging by the knowing smirk instantly appearing on his lips she obviously failed. It’s such a stupid thing to lie about as well and his amusement makes her feel a little ashamed. She mutters an apology and pushes through the crowd, shoving her ticket in the usher’s hand without as much as a second glance.

She almost gets to the end of the first movie but then they’re blowing up the Planet Killer and it’s the best part, Stardust, she can hear her father saying in a raspy, broken voice. And just like that she’s back in that hospital room, curled by his side, her laptop’s screen illuminating the room with a blueish tint, the noises of the ongoing battle drowning the steady beeping of the machines surrounding his bed.

You’re so silly, she’d force herself to mock him gently; by now nothing but a well-rehearsed routine shielding them from the unforgiving reality. He’d always chuckle at that, so she kept teasing until that late October night when everything stopped. The treatments, the machines, his heart, her heart, nothing but pouring rain soundtracking their sudden silence. One week after the funeral she packed up nothing more than a handful of necessities and her mom’s necklace, and moved halfway across the planet to start over.

She tries to focus on a different memory but it’s too late. She feels an incessant pressure on her chest, her breath uneven. It’s too much. She stands up, the row behind her already snickering angry remarks, Bodhi mouthing a worried “you ok?”. She nods and gives him a feeble smile that comes out more like a grimace.

“Stay. I just need some air,” she whispers to him while gathering her things.

The hall is empty save for the usher leaning against the wall, carefully avoiding a framed “In the Heat of the Sun” poster. She looks around, itching to run home to lock herself in her bedroom and muffle a cry with that ridiculous smiley face pillow that Bodhi got her as a house-warming gift.

“You’re missing the best part,” the usher tells her quietly, his eyes never leaving the pages of the book he’s reading. She sneaks a peek at the cover - A Theory of Justice. Now that she sees him closer she realizes he’s older than she first thought - 25, maybe 26. Dark floppy hair, thin lips and tired eyes. He’s a welcomed distraction.

“The second movie is better anyway,” she replies with a quick shrug. She has approximately 3 minutes left before the first part ends and she’ll have to face people. It’s better if she pretends to be unaffected than to make Bodhi worry. He’s too caring and she feels like every day spent with her and her demons destroys him piece by piece.

The usher mutters something under his breath and puts the book aside. His face is that of a careful neutrality.

“This is the one that started it all, though. The beginning of the whole story,” his voice is now clearer, his accent more pronounced.

“There’s nothing that exciting about beginnings. Nor the endings to be honest,” she muses, her gaze lingering, judging the weariness of his features, the dark lashes and the light stubble. “It’s the stuff in between that counts.”

He tilts his head and gives her the tiniest of smirks that her traitorous mind catalogues as oddly attractive. But before either of them can say anything else all the doors open and the swarm of filmgoers floods the hall.

the prequels

For someone who was literally non-existent in her life prior that weekend she finds herself bumping into the guy on regular occasions. She now knows he also works in that coffee place that sells more of overpriced sugary concoctions than actual coffee which for some reason appeals to tipsy Bodhi (Coconut milk chocolate cherry latte with a foam bunny, Jyn! A foam bunny!). She sees him with a bag of groceries across the street and deduces he must be living somewhere near the Krav Maga school she goes to on Wednesday evenings. She notices him having a late lunch with Leia, the twin sister of the guy that Bodhi’s crushing on (and still vehemently denies it). He goes to Farmers Market on Saturday mornings and actually smirks at her over a stack of organic lettuce. It’s unsettling and Jyn ends up going home huffing in annoyance, two small tomatoes and a sole carrot in her tote bag. He’s suddenly everywhere and she doesn’t know what to do with it. Her social circle begins and ends with Bodhi, and this seems like an unwarranted addition. They’re not friends, they’re not even acquaintances. Exchanging hellos would be too much and yet every time she spots him she carefully appraises such option.

A couple of weeks of this game ends abruptly with a bouncy Bodhi and another leaflet. 

“They’re marathoning the prequels this Friday,” he interrupts her dinner by dropping the piece of paper on the table. It almost falls into her plate of microwaved noodles and she shoves it aside with a frown.

“Don’t care about the prequels,” she grunts.

“Exactly!” Bodhi exclaims as if this was actually good news. “There are no memories attached to those. Nothing but pure fun and admittedly a lot of bad dialogue.”

Jyn eyes him warily.

“Cassian thought you might want to go,” he finally adds off-handedly before taking a can of soda out of the fridge and sitting down across a very confused Jyn.

“I don’t know any Cassians,” she scoffs, her gaze involuntarily lingering on the leaflet.

“Sure you do,” he tells her with the maddening confidence that Jyn associates with the most terrible of their plans. Like when they were 14 and tried to climb onto his parents’ balcony because he lost his keys. “He says you’ve been stalking him lately or something.”

He lets out a small chuckle at Jyn’s vexed face before pointing to the leaflet with a short explanation, “He works there.”

The usher. Of course. She rolls her eyes and aggressively ignores the warm feeling at finally knowing the guy’s name. 

She quickly realises it’s a lost battle. Once Bodhi has an idea she can protest all she wants but in the end she always agrees. She blames his stupid puppy eyes.

This is how she finds herself standing outside that cinema a good hour before the first film even starts. Cassian, she purposefully repeats his name in her head, told them to drop by earlier so they can skip the queue but he still hasn’t let them inside. She leans against the ticket booth and makes small talk with Leia who in a few colourful sentences explains her non-relationship with the guy they’re still waiting for. Usually Jyn wouldn’t care about anyone’s heartaches but Leia’s range of insults is frankly impressive. The guy finally shows up and Jyn quickly steps aside as if she’d be caught in the crossfire otherwise. She looks affectionately at Bodhi, too busy fumbling on words to realise Luke’s small blush and eager eyes, and when Cassian finally unlocks the doors her heart is filled with something closely resembling fondness for these people.

“Hey,” he greets them quietly. He looks like he hasn’t slept in days, dark circles under his eyes, cracked lips and that unruly lock of hair that Jyn briefly wants to brush from his forehead only to remember they don’t even know each other. Not officially. Not yet.

“Hey, Cassian,” she replies just as quietly, testing the way his name feels on her tongue.

“Jyn,” he nods.

She doesn’t think anyone from their little group realise how monumental this feels to her.

There are two other people already inside the hall, one of them struggling to hang a large vintage poster, the other giving him directions with a laugh.

“The owners,” Cassian explains. “They can be a bit... peculiar.”

“He thinks he’s being funny, the old fool,” the larger of the two grunts, leaving the slightly crooked frame as it is. “Right, left, no, your left. Hilarious, Chirrut. You’re such a comedian.”

Chirrut, whom Jyn recognises as the guy with the white cane from the other night, lets out a loud laugh before joining the group.

“We heard that, Cassian!” he says teasingly. “By the way when Baze said we needed to sell more tickets, he didn’t mean to literally fill the audience with your friends.”

“Did they even pay for the tickets?” The other owner, Baze, asks with a pointed look.

“You should be paying us to watch these,” Jyn mutters before she can stop herself.

“Very true, little sister,” Chirrut cackles. “Cassian, find the best seat for her. Popcorn’s on us.”

The evening turns out to be as much fun as Bodhi promised. With a less crowded theater and no emotional attachment, Jyn finds herself enjoying it surprisingly more than she thought she would. Leia and Han argue all through the first two films, only to end up making out during the last one. Luke switches places after that, mumbling something about needing a therapy and Bodhi eagerly joins him. And Jyn finds herself waiting for the intermissions so she can catch a glimpse of the silent guy who’s not even her friend. She’s too good at denial to admit it, so she concludes it’s a side effect of being lonely. She just craves human interaction and someone as quietly intense as Cassian seems like a good challenge. She steps into the hall and her eyes lock on his silhouette almost immediately. There’s a certain gravity to everything he does; the way he moves, stealthily and purposefully, like he can’t afford any additional gestures. A carefully constructed illusion of detachment with just a hint of something softer, sadder. She struggles not to find him intriguing.

“He looks exhausted,” Chirrut appears out of nowhere, concern clear in his voice.

“How-” she tries to ask but he cuts her off with a chuckle.

“Just because I’m blind doesn’t mean I can’t see it,” he tells her with a challenging gleam in his pale eyes.

Jyn tries to come up with an appropriate reply to that, something that wouldn’t make her sound like the biggest asshole who puts down a disabled person.

Before she can formulate her own thoughts a gruffy voice belonging to Baze helps her out - “That’s exactly what it means.”

Chirrut dismisses him with an easy laugh and a shake of his head. This is a routine for them, she realises with affection. She remembers her own parents and their bickering, smooth and familiar, creating that little bubble of pure happiness she now misses so much.

“He should quit that second job,” Baze declares pensively, his eyes assessing Cassian’s current state. “That kid will work himself to death.”

“We don’t pay him enough for that,” Chirrut reminds him, not unkindly, and it’s clearly a conversation they’ve had before. He sighs softly, their small chat turning a bit too private, too intense for Jyn to witness. She doesn’t know Cassian, not really. She shouldn’t be listening to any of this.

“No one wants to watch Chirrut’s selection of foreign documentaries,” Baze whispers to her with a conspirational wink but she can hear a note of regret. 

“Cassian will help us to steer this place in the more profitable direction,” Chirrut’s optimism is infectious, a small smile already slipping into place on Jyn’s lips. “He can help us crush the evil multiplexes!”

After that evening, Cassian and that odd couple become somewhat of a fixture in Jyn’s increasingly changing life. They’re not exactly friends, the don’t really talk, they don’t call each other to complain about their respective lives but there’s a quickly installed degree of trust that still amazes her. She drops by the movie theater a couple of times per week now, rarely for any cinematic reason although she tries. She sits through a “Retrospective of the 50s Asian Cinema”, attended by all of 12 people, 7 of them seemingly Chirrut and Baze’s friends. They screen an old kung fu film one Tuesday afternoon and she’s literally the only person there before Cassian caves in and joins her. They spend the rest of that day trying to repeat the moves they’ve seen, out of breath and almost giddy, cheered on by a grinning Chirrut. It feels like home again and it’s both exhilarating and terrifying.

She knows it won’t last.

Luke drags them to his favourite fast food joint one evening. The three of them wait patiently for Cassian to finish his shift, Bodhi smirking at her in a way that spells Trouble. With capital T. The last time she saw that look on his face, he was trying to set her up with a fellow student. The lovely guy turned out to be engaged and very much in love with his fiancée. Bodhi officially sucks at matchmaking.

“What?” She finally snaps, whispering just in case.

“I’m just glad Cassian could join us,” Bodhi replies innocently and Jyn wants to murder him. It’s a trap. A fucking double date if she sees one.

The place turns out to be a hole in the wall, in some ways quite literally, but the burgers are good and the wobbly table they find outside gives them enough of privacy to chat in peace. Luke’s talking animatedly about an aviation project he wants to work on and the conversation almost immediately steers towards their future plans.

“Jyn’s still undeclared,” Bodhi cuts in as though Jyn was unable to admit it out loud.

“I’m just considering all my options,” she explains defiantly, her chin jutting high and her arms crossed. “Who knows what will happen. The world’s a mess, I might end up a petty criminal or something.”

“You hear that, Cassian? Here’s your first client!” Bodhi exclaims with a small punch to Cassian’s arm.

She steals a glance at Cassian and his usually blank face has a hint of a blush.

“You’re planning on being a cop?” She asks jokingly with a sudden realisation that she doesn’t even know that, that she never bothered to ask him about his plans.

“Lawyer,” he clarifies, his eyes stubbornly avoiding hers.

“Great,” she snorts dismissively at that and she can feel an abrupt change in the mood, like something unexpectedly charged the air with an unwanted tension.

“What’s wrong with lawyers?” Cassian crosses his arms defensively, leaning against the back of his chair, his shoulders growing stiff.

“Nothing,” she frowns at him while mirroring his pose. “It’s just not very noble. I thought you wanted to change the world or something. You seem like the type.”

“Do I now?” Jyn notices a coldness to his voice she’s never heard before. “And I can’t do that as a lawyer?”

“Oh I’m sure you can save a few scums,” she fires back, fuelled by the furore his words start to provoke. “The guy who killed my mum had an excellent one. By the end of that trial you’d think she purposefully threw herself under his car.”

“So one British asshole makes all of the profession evil?” His voice is getting louder, the accent thicker.

“There are jokes about lawyers going to hell for a reason,” she scoffs because it’s too late now. She’s nothing if not determined, even if it’s in hurting someone.

“Wow, Jyn. If I’m such a monster why are you even here,” Cassian‘s words are sharp, calculated, shooting through her like bullets. “Grow up. You’re not the only one who lost someone.”

He rises from his chair, tossing a few crumpled bills on the table, and leaves. Jyn stubbornly sits still.

the new trilogy

Jyn decides she’s a terrible person. It’s official. She knows she’s good at pushing people away but she never did that as spectacularly and over such a stupid thing as she did with Cassian. Sadly just because she realises certain things doesn’t mean she knows how to make it better.  Everything becomes awkward after that night and for the first time in her life Jyn cares enough to wanting to fix it. She knows she owes Cassian an apology or at least a talk to clear the air but every time she comes to his workplace he seems to be miraculously absent. Finally Baze takes pity on her and gives her a scrap of paper with something scribbled on it in light green ink.

“It’s his home address. I don’t know what happened but Chirrut says you two need to talk.”

She keeps it in the front pocket of her jeans for a day. There are two possible outcomes in her mind, both leaving her anxious: he can either shut the door in her face or they can talk it out. She’s just not sure if she’s ready for either. She clearly hit a nerve when they argued and she spent a good chunk of her time overanalyzing everything he said. She always knew there was much more to him than he was letting people see, she just didn’t recognise the extend of damage. She should have, though. She’s been there before.

She spends an entire evening mulling over that until Bodhi finally shoves her off their couch with a firm “fix it.”

She notices a DVD of the first part of the new Galactic Battles trilogy and on an impulse she takes it with her. It’s the lamest of excuses she could ever come up with but it gives her unexpected confidence.

Judging by his state, he clearly didn’t expect any guests. He’s dishevelled, dressed in an old t-shirt and sweatpants under a ridiculous yellow apron, his hands covered in flour.

“You cook,” she states lamely and cringes as soon as she hears herself say it. She shifts awkwardly and holds the DVD up for him to see. It’s a peace offering and an apology all in one and she silently begs for him to understand that. He thankfully seems to get it because he finally gestures for her to come inside, shutting the door behind her with a small kick.

“TV’s over there,” he points to the small room on her left. “I just need to finish this quickly.”

She nods, already looking around his place with an unabashed curiosity. It’s the first time she’s been here and it’s not what she expected. The room’s almost empty, save for some old furniture and books lined on a shelf in what seems to be an alphabetical order. There’s nothing that reminds her of Cassian though, no item that Jyn would judge as personal, as a of value to him. It’s a sad apartment, cold and impersonal. She sighs and kneels in front of the DVD player searching for the remote control. It’s only then that she notices a skinny black cat perched on the edge of the table.

“Hey, kitty,” she says, hesitantly extending her arm to pet it.

The cat crouches, its yellow eyes unnervingly fixed on her, its long tail twitching. And then it pounces.

“Your cat just scratched me,” she complains immediately once Cassian appears in the room, two bottles of beer in his now flour-free hands.

“Sorry about that,” he apologizes looking with a fond exasperation at the hissing creature. “Kay doesn’t like people.”

He hands her one of the bottles and settles on the shabby dark couch.

“People or just me,” Jyn mutters but nods in understanding anyway. She scoots closer to Cassian’s spot on the sofa and stares at the cat with a pointed expression - a fleeting thought that challenging a pet over its owner’s affection is a tad childish. Also she doesn’t even like Cassian like that. Nope. She shifts to move away and she swears the cat looks at her triumphantly.

“Cassian, I-”

“Don’t, ok?” He interrupts her pleadingly. There’s a new-found vulnerability to him as if she discovered already more than he wanted her to. She’s just an intruder in this crappy, small apartment that shows her more about him than she bargained for. Maybe she is the one who has it easy. In the end her parents left her comfortably settled in life, armed with soft memories of love and tenderness that she chose to ignore, too focused on her anger to remember. Does he have any of that?

“Gracias,” she declares instead with ridiculous pride pointing to her beer. 

“Is that all you know in Spanish?” Cassian grins at her and Jyn instantly decides she missed it. It looks good on him.

“Don’t mock me! I had French in school,” she huffs faux hurt. “I’ve never been to Mexico. How is it?”

“Depends,” he replies non-committally but doesn’t offer any further explanation and Jyn doesn’t dare to ask.

“I’ve only been to Spain. Well... Ibiza, actually,” she explains a little embarrassed. “It’s like a rite of passage for European youth.”

“How did you like it?” Cassian seems amused by the turn of their conversation and Jyn lets out a long sigh.

“Got sunburn on my first day and lost my wallet two days after that,” she finally recalls with a laugh. “Bodhi had fun, though.”

They settle into their old routine after that, comfortable and reassuring. Cassian brings them food and teaches her the ingredients in Spanish, gently mocking her terrible pronunciation. Neither of them comments on how domestic this all feels.

Halfway through the movie Cassian brings out a bottle of tequila.

“We had Mexican food, this is the obvious next step,” he explains with a grin.

Two shots later the movie becomes nothing but a background noise and she catches him observing her with a new intensity.

“My parents died when I was six,” he confesses after shot number four, his eyes slightly glazed over. She takes a quick gulp and then wordlessly hands him the bottle. He talks about shattered childhood and running away and working, constantly working, just to pay his rent, his food, his school. She tells him about a witty mother who just wanted to cross the street and a nerdy father who gave up. It’s only fair.

When there’s nothing left in the bottle and the DVD keeps playing the title menu on repeat, she leans her heavy head on his shoulder and takes his hand in hers, slowly tracing each knuckle with a fingertip. He slurs something in Spanish, her name being the only sound she recognizes. She looks up and his face is so close, their noses almost touching.

His lips are soft and he tastes like alcohol and it burns so brightly, so beautifully. And then it all goes black.

She wakes up confused, her head pounding. She dimly notes she needs to evaluate the situation before panic starts to set in for good. She’s warm and probably safe, tucked under a worn-out blanket, still wearing all of her clothes. One of her feet sticks out and when she wiggles it she notices the additional weight around her. Cassian lies behind her, his arm draped around her waist, his nose pressed in the crook of her neck. He snores softly, his breath hot on her skin. She untangles herself from his still form and quietly moves to put her shoes on. She spots Kay sitting in the hall, eyeing her every movement carefully and slightly judgementally. She’s halfway through the door when she hears Cassian groan. She freezes, unsure on what to do, Kay already meowing accusingly in her direction. She quietly goes back to the hall. She can see Cassian dropping his head into the palms of his hands, letting out a string of curses. 

“I work today,” he croaks miserably, more to himself than anyone. Jyn doesn’t think he even realises she’s standing there, watching him.

Not until he looks right at her.

“Jyn, about last night-” he starts hesitantly.

“Don’t worry about it. We all know tequila is evil,” she laughs and the sound is ugly to her ears. “It’s fine. Really.”

She throws a quick “see you later” already fleeing the room. She ignores his worried glance as she grabs her jacket and runs out of his apartment.

It’s fine, she tells herself all the way back home.

It’s not fine.

She figures it out pretty much the second she locks herself in her bedroom, carefully avoiding Bodhi on her way in. It meant something to her, she knows that, but dealing with messy feelings is the last thing on the list of things Jyn knows how to handle. Avoiding him would be near impossible. She tried that already anyway. Talking seems too terrifying. She has no idea how he feels. It could’ve been just a fluke, a lapse of judgement helped by that fucking alcohol. Jyn heard quite a few tequila related stories, always ending with regrets and terrible headaches and even worse heartaches. She just never thought she’d live one herself. 

She takes a deep breath and admits she might actually need an advice. She mentally goes through the list of all her friends slightly shocked she has more than one now. Bodhi would normally be her first choice but he’s still in his honeymoon phase of the relationship with Luke and Jyn doesn’t want to burden him with her mess. Chirrut and Baze are too intuitive, too involved, simply too close to Cassian. She finally settles for Leia, currently running an all-time record of 8 days without a fight with Han. That’s gotta count for something, right?

That Friday aftertoon Jyn lies upside down on her couch, toes lightly touching the wall behind it, a half-written paper on her chest. Inviting a confused Leia to a study session seemed like a brilliant idea, except for one major flaw - them not sharing a single class. She comes over anyway and Jyn shows her awkwardly the apartment before gesturing to the living room table currently occupied by Bodhi’s supposedly revolutionary plane model and a selection of their unfinished papers mixed with (hopefully) paid bills. Leia graciously pushes it all aside before setting her laptop and quietly getting to work. Jyn drops on the couch with resignation.

20 minutes later she still hasn’t manage to approach the subject.

“We kissed,” she finally blurts out and looks at Leia expectantly.

And waits. And waits some more. Frankly she’s a bit annoyed by Leia’s lack of reaction.

“Ok,” Leia eventually mumbles and Jyn’s not even sure if she’s talking to her or just commenting the research she’s currently reading.

“Did you hear me? Cassian kissed me,” Jyn repeats with a huff and moves off the couch so she can face Leia properly.

“So?”

This is all going horribly wrong.

“That’s usually how people behave in relationships,” Leia explains to her as if she were a three-year-old eating a crayon.

Jyn scowls with a curse under her breath.

“Oh,” Leia’s eyes widen almost comically in shock. “I honestly thought you two were-”

“We’re not,” she cuts in drily. She picks at the leftover piece of cheesecake that Leia brought, this whole conversation turning into an unanticipated nightmare.

“But you’re always together,” Leia tries again, more gently this time.

“It’s called being friends,” Jyn replies, letting out an exhale of frustration. 

“Do you want him to be more than a friend?”

Jyn looks around helplessly as if by some miracle someone would come over and answer on her behalf.

“Turns out we’re both kind of a mess,” she ends up confiding. It’s not exactly an answer to Leia’s question but it’s as close as Jyn can get to one.

Leia closes her laptop and folds her arms, nodding pensively.

“So you’re both fucked up, but honestly, do you know anyone who isn’t?” She asks bluntly.

“You?”

Leia giggles at that: “You actually think anyone sane would date Han?”

Jyn can’t help but smirk at her answer. 

“Did my brother ever mention our parents?” She steals a spoonful of cake from Jyn’s plate and ponders her words carefully. “They were childhood sweethearts, king and queen of the prom, thick as thieves and all that crap. Fast forward a few years and a set of twins and you get the messiest of divorces you can imagine. They even Parent Trap-ed us for a while. Without the summer camp part. Or the happy ending.”

“That’s a terrible example,” Jyn almost whines. “How is that supposed to reassure me?”

“It’s not,” Leia replies frankly, waving at her with the now empty spoon before grabbing another bite. “What I’m trying to say is that relationships are messy and they’re hard work and sometimes they fail. But sometimes they succeed, too. And when they do, you know they were worth the risk.”

“This is a Hallmark level of platitude,” Jyn points out, her disappointment more than obvious.

“Probably,” Leia agrees pleasantly. “Doesn’t make it any less true.”

“Fine,” Jyn gives up if anything just to end this awkward talk. “So what now?”

“Just let it happen? I don’t know, Jyn,” Leia shrugs. “I’m not exactly an expert.”

She reopens her laptop as if the whole conversation never happened and Jyn is left alone with her thoughts again.

Jyn is not a patient person and waiting for something to happen doesn’t exactly sit well with her. But all of her usual methods clearly failed and she’s out of useful defensive mechanisms so maybe Leia’s advice is not that bad. It probably is, she thinks deep down, after all Leia is spending most of her time arguing with her boyfriend.

Turns out there was no need for any of that painful chat because the next time she meets with Cassian he doesn’t mention what happened between them. He’s not awkward with her. He doesn’t try to explain. He doesn’t want to talk. Jyn’s torn between being relieved, disappointed and somewhat mad but she grits her teeth and goes with it. It’s probably for the best, she rationalises. And if they’re standing a bit closer and smile at each other more openly, well, it doesn’t need to mean anything. 

the standalone

He has about an hour before the first evening screening and the hall is still quiet, drowned in warm colours of the dusk. Jyn sits silently at the concession stand, her papers spilled all over the counter. He has no heart to tell her to clean it up and move, not when she looks so serene, illuminated by the sunset that brings out those reddish hues to her long hair.

“There’s the new Galactic Battles movie coming out next week,” he mentions over the first of the umpteen popcorn bags he will surely fill that evening. Movie theaters survive because of junk food, Baze once told him. People don’t care about films as much as they care about eating crap in the dark. Judging by the amount he serves every time he firmly believes there’s truth to that.

Jyn hums in agreement, absent-mindedly twirling a pencil in her slender fingers. Cassian often finds himself just watching her restless hands, imagining holding them in his rough palms.

He shakes his head at her silence and scoops another portion of popcorn.

“Renegades,” he looks up at the sound of her voice. “It’s the first standalone of the franchise.”

There’s a small smile tugging at her lips. He finds it mesmerizing.

“Second generation sci-fi geek, remember? Plus I don’t live under a rock,” she reminds him amused and goes back to her notes.

“Right,” he clears his throat embarrassed. “I know we never actually talked about... you know... but maybe you’d want to see it?” 

“With me, I mean,” he adds hastily.

Seconds are ticking by and the deafening silence makes him almost regret working up the nerve to ask her. It’s too late to take it back now, not with all the hopes it implies.

“It’s a date,” she finally murmurs softly and he’s amazed at how one simple sentence can permanently change someone’s world.

Turns out Renegades is not exactly a first date material. It’s good, hell, it’s more than just good but for two people too afraid to move past their respective traumas it’s hitting home a bit too close. Cassian pretends not to notice Jyn furiously blinking her tears away and he squeezes her hand reassuringly through the ending credits. She rewards him with a rare shy smile before they leave the cinema. They walk in odd silence after that, neither comfortable nor not. It’s only one block away from her place that Jyn abruptly stops. 

“This is stupid. I know it makes sense because original trilogy and reality of war and all that rubbish but-” she takes a deep breath and turns to face Cassian for the first time since they left the movies. “They deserved better, don’t you think?”

Cassian finds himself nodding, his gaze lingering on the fire in her eyes.

“They deserved a happy life not some bullshitty death on a lake shore,” Jyn continues her rambling and Cassian can’t help but smile softly at the way she wrinkles her nose. “Can you believe she didn’t even kiss him? She should’ve kissed him. And something must have happened between them before that battle. There’s no way one minute she almost kills his father and the next it’s all forgiven and forgotten.”

When she stops her face is flushed and she holds his gaze, intense and warm. He bites his lip in anticipation. This is real life, there’s no Planet Killer looming over, threatening to take away their chance at happiness.

“There’s nothing more regretful than almost love,” she whispers and finally, finally, her voice has that hint of hope he dreamt of hearing.

So he kisses her.

The end.

Hi lovely people! I haven’t written anything in a very very long time and I’m sorry for this being kind of rubbish I just really wanted to contribute. Hope you enjoyed it anyway. 

(jfc this was terrifying to post.)