The second panel of the “You make it hard not to stare” gif set? I love how Cassian is drifting towards Jyn before he abruptly turns away, like “Right, now is not the time to kiss her…”

estherlyon:

thereigning-lorelai:

thereigning-lorelai:

(gif by @roguewrath)

oh god, i agree, nonny. he’s absolutely fascinated by her and has to remind himself to actually say something. it’s a cute little moment — not just for them staring at each other, but him having her back and supporting her through her entire speech. i love it. ♥

y’all are liking this because you want to write a fic for this, right? because i‘d wholeheartedly support this idea.

it wouldn’t be on their way to scarif, of course, or at least it would be that version of scarif where everyone lives. but someone will write this, right? just a sweet little cassian introspection — where he can’t take his eyes off her and her lips and has to keep his composure in front of the crew.

someone write this, please. ❤️

At first he told himself he was watching her, just as he did any other asset or mark.

He pretended he did not file away the set of her jaw in determination, the shade her eyes took in the greens of the command room. Pretended they were just little things. Trivial, meaningless little things, which he didn’t have time for.

On Jedha he tried watching out for her, for them, in a city that felt like its streets were not veins pumping with life, but rather ducts charged with firepower. He told her as much and then felt his silent words bite him in return when he watched her save a child, disable ‘troopers with the sheer force of her body, look valiantly into the eyes of Saw’s men and declare things she had been hiding for a long time, eyes blown wide and dark, cheeks flushed, saving them. Saving him.

Cassian saw no alternative other than saving her in turn, when Jedha turned into dust, when the Alliance showered bombs on a Force-forsaken planet and killed her father. Her eyes were dark again, the color of the angry storm outside, her nose red, her chin wobbling, and angry, so angry. And that was when he found himself having to admit that he was no longer watching anymore. He was looking. He was angry as well, but he couldn’t not look.

There was the moment, later, when he noticed that she was looking, too, eyes almost turquoise in the hangar, a little bit wet and bright, staring up at him as he leaned over and said words that he had never said to anyone – he had never had anyone to welcome anywhere, after all. They were all going to die, probably, and he didn’t care, because there were her eyes and down below an open shield gate, and then her hand on his arm.

That was when he had started admitting that he was staring. At dark hair the color of the murky ground on Yavin IV curling around pale skin, at her mouth, forcing out words that made men like Melshi look up, sit a bit straighter. He had to tear himself away, remind himself there was no time, but yes, when he fell down and it took him strength he didn’t have to get back up and go to her, every time he thought of the plans, something treacherously whispered in his head that he was really doing this so he could look at her again. That was the sum of his moment of self-indulgence when they went down that turbolift.

Force knew if they were getting out of that planet, but Cassian was content just to stand next to her and learn her ways: watch her dance (well, not quite dance – his mind scoffed, as he remembered white armor crunching under her truncheons), look into green-grey eyes (or were they hazel?), stare at chapped lips (what did they taste like?).

Cassian was content.

(His vision was dimming when he heard her – a sudden laugh and “Force, Bodhi! Help me – he’s really hurt!”

And his chest did a funny thing. He told himself it was hope.)