Alright! My 2nd try at watercolor painting! I can’t say it looks great, but whatever, I’m happy with it.
I rediscovered yesterday the name of my favorite blue: Prussian Blue. The pigment was named as such because its color resembled that of the Prussian Army uniforms. Of course, I’m talking what the paint looks like, not what it looks like on paper (though you could get the color if concentrated enough).
Yeah I got too excited. I love Prussian blue and I’m happy I remember the name now.
behind closed doors, your hands in mind [jyn/cassian, rogue one, rated explicit, 4k]
It keeps happening—his hands on her body, his lips on her skin. It’s strange, and rather wonderful, but they never talk about it. Jyn kind of wishes they would.
(Welp, I challenged myself to write some smut, and here we are. The biggest kudos to @ladytharen for patiently answering my every question about the Star Wars universe.)
The first time it happens, it only barely happens.
They’re pressed together in a darkened corner of an Imperial mining facility, waiting for an unexpected flood of stormtroopers to pass. Cassian had spotted them first and yanked her back into the shadows; caught off guard, she’d spun against him, stumbled forward and pressed him up against the cold metal wall.
His hand—instinctively reaching out to catch her—lands lower than he’d probably planned, curving dangerously across her lower back. She feels him swallow against her cheek.
Neither moves. The sound of boots on the floor grow louder.
There’s an abrupt noise—someone dropping their weapon, or maybe a door opening—and Jyn shifts closer to the wall on instinct, so that her nose is pressed against Cassian’s neck. Cassian, equally surprised, shifts too. His hand slips even lower, and Jyn can’t stop herself from gasping into his skin.
His arms tense around her. His pulse, already fast from the adrenaline of the mission, begins to gallop against her lips.
If this were any other situation, Jyn would pull back. She would turn away and forget this ever happened, and Cassian would know to never bring it up again, and they would continue on as normal. But until those stormtroopers leave, Jyn can’t move.
She’s running through an exhaustive list of mental curses when Cassian’s hand twitches. And then slowly, very slowly, he begins to draw a soft, experimental line along the curve of her back. His fingers dip beneath the hem of her shirt—whether on purpose or by coincidence, she’s not sure—and Jyn sucks in a breath.
Cassian stills immediately.
Through the pounding in her ears, Jyn recognizes the sticky crossroads they’ve suddenly come upon. That if she wants to peel back, now’s the time. The choice is hers.
Jyn should peel back. She knows she should.
Instead, she parts her lips ever so slightly against his neck, presses her tongue ever so gently to his throat.