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Cassian, Lord have mercy on rough and rowdy ways.

the danger is I’m dangerous

and I might just tear you apart 

Here is a slightly uncomfortable fact that Cassian would rather not have become public knowledge:

He has such a thing for watching Jyn fight.

She isn’t like Chirrut, all smooth flowing grace, taking out opponents as easily as breathing and just as effortless. Jyn is ruthless, using her small size and lower center of gravity to devastating advantage, bringing down her truncheons with enough force to break bones or noses. It doesn’t matter how big her opponent might be, Jyn can and will take them down. She’s an excellent shot too; he’s seen her on the firing range enough times to know the ones with the holes clustered neatly in the center are her work.

He’s watching her teach Bodhi some basic hand-to-hand; what he lacks in skill he makes up for in…dubious enthusiasm. and mostly dodging.

Jyn, despite all evidence to the contrary, is a good teacher. She understands Bodhi’s reluctance but gently and firmly pushes him past it. Right now they’re just working on the basic punching movement; Bodhi keeps flinching every time Jyn swings at him or pulls his punches at the last second at Jyn.  

“This,” she announces after the third time, “is not working.”

“Does this mean we’re stopping?” Bodhi asks in the forlorn hope that Jyn might quit. He knows better. She huffs.

“Honestly,” she scolds him, “What happens when we get shot down on a mission and you don’t have a blaster to defend yourself with?”

“That might not happen?” Bodhi suggest without much hope.

Jyn disregards it as the nonsense it is. “What we need,” she says, hands on her hips, lips pursed, “is a practical demonstration.”

It’s been a very long time since Cassian has to had to physically fight his way out of a situation. He can do it, but it means he’s not doing his job right if he as to draw attention to himself. But the pull of it is in his muscles and it’s been a long time since he’s exerted himself that way. He shouldn’t let himself get rusty.

“I’ll have a go,” he offers casually and both Jyn and Bodhi turn to look at him.

“Oh?” Jyn asks coolly just as Bodhi says dubiously, “You will?”

It’s only mildly insulting.

“I do know basic hand-to-hand,” Cassian points out with only some asperity as Bodhi flushes slightly and the corners of Jyn’s mouth twitch. “And a real life demonstration might help.”

Bodhi and Jyn exchange glances. Jyn reacts first, shrugging nonchalantly. “Sure, why not,” she says casually, “just let me redo my wrappings.”

“Better you than me, mate,” Bodhi mutters to Cassian as he escapes gratefully off the mat. Cassian takes off his jacket, his outer shirt, lays them neatly off to the side. Bodhi’s nice enough to bring him some cloth wrappings, which he does around his knuckles and wrists. he shakes himself loose, kicks off his boots. It really has been too long.

Jyn watches him with that cool, calculating stare, arms loose at her sides. “Ready?” she asks and this is all the warning he gets. He barely has time to nod before she’s swinging.

Dodging her isn’t the problem. The problem is staying on his toes. Jyn gets in close, fights mean. It’s barroom brawling and ruthless partisan efficiency. He’s trying to be professional about this, but Jyn is not having it.

They get an audience when she jabs his ribs; there’s the sound of muffled oohs when he winds one foot around her ankle and yanks. She loses her footing for all ten seconds and then she dodges and it’s something else now; it’s heat and speed and something like a dance, if he danced, if they were the sort of people who danced. This is as close as they get. She barrels into him, taking them both down on the mat and she’s small and strong and fiercely warm, and well, Cassian can’t be entirely blamed for losing his concentration. Not entirely.

But he will not lose. He won’t. They grapple like two beasts, Jyn’s teeth bared in something that looks like it might be a grin or a snarl–hair in her face, gleaming with sweat. Something goes hot and hungry in Cassian’s belly; he wonders what it would be like to have all the fire under him, keeping away the chill of Hoth.

It ends like this: he’s down, pinned on his back by Jyn, her knees on either side of his hips, digging in with truly admirable tenacity. She’s got him well and truly pinned and she looks so damn smug and satisfied and pleased with herself he sort of wants to kiss that self-satisfied look off her face. There’s a lot of laughter and suggestive catcalling from their audience, but for once, Cassian doesn’t care about the loss of his dignity. Jyn is warm and heavier than he might’ve supposed on top of him, and he’s going to hoard this memory like it’s gold, like it’s something sweet and heavy on his tongue.

“Was any of that supposed to be instructive?” Bodhi asks, sounding torn somewhere between concern or amusement. “Because I don’t feel very instructed right now.”

Jyn raises her head to look at him and the long line of her throat bared for his view makes Cassian’s gut clench. “If you weren’t learning, you weren’t paying attention,” she informs Bodhi tartly and Cassian, because he’s a grasping bastard, take advantage of her momentary distraction. He surges up under her, rolls them both over and pins her to the mat, her yelp of surprise lost to the yelling and whoops. She looks up at him in surprise, eyes wide and they narrow fiercely.

“You bastard,” she says, somehow managing to sound both impressed and annoyed. “I’m going to get you for that.”

He grins now, all teeth and intent, and her gaze goes hot. “You’re welcome to try,” he says and oh, he is in such trouble now, isn’t he? He is in truly in worlds of trouble, and he can’t find it within himself to care.

He lets Jyn up and she leaps lithely to her feet, directs a mocking bow to their audience and then, in true Jyn fashion, an obscene gesture. They laugh and cheer and boo and Jyn ignores them, snatching up a towel and dabbing her forehead with it, shaking back sweat-damp bangs from her face. Cassian accepts a bottle of water from Bodhi and takes a long pull, watching Jyn.

“Not too bad,” she says with casual carelessness, “I mean, for a spy.”

“Your technique needs some work,” he retorts, “for a partisan.”

She grins again, a flash of teeth and exuberance and oh, Cassian thinks, oh hell.

In his bunk, late at night, he remembers what it felt like, warm, taut strength in his arms, a long graceful neck bared above him, and he might not get much sleep, but the dreams are more than worth it.

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Homeboy Cassian Andor here. Finally finished the practice piece.

(P.S. - Diego was an excellent choice for one of the main protagonists. Definitely a big fan of representation. That jacket was amazing.)

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The Women of Star Wars, never stop kicking ass ❤ ❤ ❤ ❤ ❤  [print] 

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of death, springtime, and three-headed dogs by slugmutt

Jyn has no interest in joining the Lord of the Dead in his pointless battle against the Titans.

It turns out he’s not planning to give her a choice.

Hades & Persephone AU with modern elements - Read it on AO3

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♠: one character adjusting the other's jewelry/neck tie/ etc. for rebelcaptain?

“I don’t know how to do this,” Jyn announces, appearing out of nowhere and shoving something gold and shiny into Cassian’s face.

He blinks, looks up from tying the laces on his shoes. What immediately catches his eye, instead of the jewelry hanging inches from his nose, is Jyn. She’s dressed in a deep, velvety red that draws a line of creamy skin from her neck to her collarbones, that clings in places he’s never seen Jyn’s clothing cling.

He swallows.

“Don’t know how to do what?” he asks, and his voice comes out surprisingly—mercifully—even.

“This,” she scowls, shaking the glittering chain.

He tugs the knot of his laces tight, leans back in his chair. He’d known this ceremony would require formal wear, but somehow, he’d never thought that would mean actually seeing Jyn in a dress. She so rarely adheres to requirements. It’s one of his most constant sources of stress.

“You don’t know how to do a necklace,” he repeats.

Jyn folds her arms across her stomach, which he rather wishes she wouldn’t do, since—well. Best not go down that road.

“I can’t get the clasp,” she snaps.

“Oh.”

She shakes the necklace again. “I’m asking you to help me.”

He huffs. “You weren’t, actually, but I will if you want me to.”

He stands and takes the necklace, and when she turns away from him he’s left looking at the soft ridges of her bare shoulder blades, at the wisps of loose hair from her bun falling against the base of her neck.

He takes a breath—shakier than he’d like—and steps forward, reaches across her to rest the necklace against her throat.

“You wear a necklace every day,” he points out, squinting down at the (admittedly very small) fastening.

“It doesn’t have a clasp,” she shoots back, but it’s a strangely soft retort.

His fingers accidentally brush against the skin of her neck, and the sound she makes at the contact—a quick, breathy exhale—makes him bite his lip, curl his toes against the soles of his shoes to steady himself.

“There,” he manages, stepping back. When she turns around, he thinks he’ll tell her she looks nice. She’ll probably just walk away—or possibly hit him—but it’s true, and she ought to know.

“Thanks for the help,” she says. But she doesn’t turn back around.

For a long, long beat, neither moves. Cassian concentrates on his breathing; he’s standing so close, the fabric of his jacket shirt brushes against her dress with every breath. He could be mistaken—his rational mind seems to have chosen this moment to completely flee his body—but he thinks he sees a flush at the edges of her cheeks.

Then she steps forward, startling him back into reality.

“See you there,” she mutters, stalking away from him so fast she’s out the door before he can think of anything to say in response.

It takes a good four hundred and thirty-three seconds before his heart has slowed to the point where he feels comfortable following her. He counts.

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Rogue One by Liam Brazier // Tumblr

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maybe they won’t die this time

me, while watching rogue one. (via clairenat)

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— Ten word story

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After reading a couple of Rogue One guides, I started thinking it was strange that K doesn’t have a blaster at the beginning of the movie–we eventually see that he’s a good shot, so why wouldn’t he get one? Then I thought about it, and I realized that Cassian must have a pretty good reason… 

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deleted scene of Baze and Chirrut in Rogue One A Star Wars Story

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Trying to doodle myself out of a funk. These two helped <3

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Jyn: *exists*

Cassian: So blessed. So moved. So grateful. Can't believe this is my life. Never going to take it for granted. Always to give it back. Thank you.

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                                                                   T H E   P U L L

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so do it, decide. –meredith grey

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❛ what if I kill you first? ❜ ━  ROGUE ONE ADAPTATION #1

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“I Rebel.” Jyn Erso. I was inspired by this cape/poncho costume design for her in the Rogue One concept art book.