I’m gonna try and pick 5 that aren’t universally loved moments in fandom, not that I don’t love The Beach Scene, Elevator Scene and “Welcome Home”, but just wanted to explore other things I found interesting and awesome about R1. :D Thank you for the ask, btw!
5. Orson Krennic ragging on Galen’s choice of farming on Lah’mu. Listen Krennic, farming isn’t exactly easy (neither is working on a giant super weapon, but I digress). I just thought it was a funny introduction to one of my favorite Star Wars villians, since he has such relateable motivations (he just wants to be recognized!!! for what he did!!! he deserves that!!! stoopid Tarkin).
4. Baze Malbus’s “little sister” line to Jyn. This rivals “Welcome Home” in my book, I mean … Jyn has been without a consistent home, let alone any sort of family, for YEARS. To hear such things in the span of days? It just warms my little “found family trope” loving heart. Also I just want Baze to be my space dad.
3. Jyn’s face on the beach of Scarif, giving Cassian that “I swear to the maker, Cassian, if you say something romantic or sentimental and make me cry after all of my walls are on the verge of completely crumbling I will cut you” face. It says so much in such a small look, and I swear I have given that look hundreds of times in my own life.
2. Cassian’s entire opening sequence. I love how he went from comforting and charismatic, to cold and heartless, to self-loathing in the span of SECONDS after killing Tivik. It was then that I knew I was going to fall hard for his character, I live for morally grey characters and coming to grips with their actions, and boy does Cassian deliver all of that (it’s ok bby you’re doing fine.)
1. THIS moment of K2, Cassian and Jyn entering the elevator. To me this was the moment they all realized the magnitude of their undertaking. Jyn sways and fidgets a bit, Cassian’s visibly nervous and drawing a deep breath, and K2 goes “I have a bad feeling about this.” It was such a quick little moment but it said so much to me. While they were stoic and brave in front of their R1 crew, this is where they really let their guard down and let themselves be nervous, but also gather their strength. (also no secret I love these two in their Imperial get-ups so that was a nice plus).
Honestly? Good Ship. There’s absolutely nothing bad about Stingue except for the fact that Mashima’s trying to make StingYu and Rogerva happen instead.
They complement each other in almost every way, they’re hilarious in a casual setting and are hands down the best tag team in the series. They have great, effortless chemistry even in the most casual settings. They can fire off Unison Raids whenever they want, and the amount of trust they must have in each other to do that is inspiring. Their light/dark duality is cliche, but works, and the fact that they basically run Sabertooth as a joint unit is… A+.
Plus? Family unit with Frosch and Lector. Yes.
Great ship. 10/10. I’m personally offended that it’s not one of the ships my dash is drowning in, tbqh, because Sting and Rogue have better interactions without trying than the Big 4 do when they’re trying really hard.
Lil Barry has such a hard time with it. He’s so congenial, y’know? Picks on bullies, gets in lots of fights, but has so much love in his heart. He crushes so easily, it’s almost a little sad.
He gets a crush on Iris the day he meets her. Just her smile and he’s sold. Everyone in class notices and teases him.
That lasts for a while but a year later and he’s got it bad for his pal Cisco, who’s a grade ahead with Ronnie and Caitlin. Cisco is ‘older’ (by one year lmao, but it’s a Big Deal) and so smart. And he has really nice hair and he lets Barry play with it and none of the girls will let Barry touch their hair and he thinks it’s so nice and soft?
So he has it bad for Cisco for like a year but Cisco doesn’t notice because Lisa Snart from a grade ahead of Cisco yet has her eye on Cisco and she’s kinda scary so Barry backs off when she enters the picture.
And he thinks he’s never gonna get over his crush on Patty who joins their class in grade 6 and knows all the answers in science. Barry passes her notes all day and they become study buddies.
Linda is the first girl he actually gets to kiss, playing spin the bottle in grade seven and it is a Big Deal. Linda decides that Barry is her boyfriend after that and it lasts for a few months of awkward hand-holding before he breaks up with her because he realizes he totally still has a crush on Iris.
That becomes the talk of the class (poor Barry) but Iris isn’t allowed to date anyone until she’s in high school because of her dad, so they agree to just stay friends.
And then. Oh and then.
They get to high school. They’re freshmen. Barry is so ready to ask Iris out. But then this super handsome sophomore who’s friends with Ronnie meets Iris and she falls so hard. His name is Eddie Thawne. Barry would hate him if he didn’t also have a crush on him.
“They’re both so pretty, Cisco!” he laments. Cisco understands. Some days he thinks if Cindy and Lisa would date, all of his problems would be solved too.
But then Barry gets detention one day. And he finally meets Lisa Snart’s older brother face to face. And this poor boy gets it bad. It’s the kind of embarrassing crush that literally everyone in a 100 yard radius can see like a neon sign except the object of the affection. So on the one hand, it’s a shame it takes until he’s a senior for Leonard Snart to even notice him. On the other hand, they make it there eventually (when Barry is eighteen and drags Len off to college with him).
-Always reading the labels on products that you’ve already used before “Love, you already know how it works” “I know, I just wanna be extra sure”
-Your nipples peaking through when you go braless “You know what that does to me, love” “What what does to you?” you ask with a smirk
-”Seductively” dancing to your chill ass music in one of Harry’s shirts when you think you’re home alone “Shit, Harry, you scared me!” “Well, don’t stop on my account,” he says, leaning against the doorway with his bottom lip in between his teeth
-Pausing shows you’re both binge watching together to tell him your theories on what might happen & doing a little dance when you’re right
-The way you scrunch up your nose when you’re about to sneeze
-How small your hands are compared to his
-Rapping to your favorite songs in the car “That was actually kinda hot,” he’d say at the end of the song
-Purposely smudging your lipstick onto Harry’s lips when you’re going out “Mine,” you’d say, biting his bottom lip and releasing it back into place
-Telling him to shut up in embarrassment whenever he gives you a compliment “M’ serious,” he says, wrapping his arms around your waist, “you’re the smartest, prettiest girl I know”
-Wearing his boxers “What? Yours are comfy,” you’d defend as he’d stare at you with a cute grin
-How excited you get when your favorite band comes on shuffle
-Always keeping thank you cards in your bag “Just in case,” you’d say
-Rambling and laughing about nothing when you’re sleepy
-Pulling his hair during sex
-Raking your nails down his back and leaving scratches when he hits a particular spot
-Making him eat the peanuts when you’re eating ice cream Drumsticks
-Playing with the necklace he gave you by lightly biting the chain and playing with the pendant whenever you’re in deep thought
-Whispering in his ear everything you want him to do to you “Fuck, baby,” he’d say, pulling you even closer to him, “see what you do to me?”
-You refraining from sassing everyone
-Tying your hair up in a quick bun & a curl peaks out “You’re so cute,” he says, playing with the rogue curl “Shutup,” you reply, looking away with a shy smile
-Always trying your hardest to tame your hair and failing
-Kissing him behind his ear
-Coming up with a deep meaning on what you think his tattoos may mean before pouting in defeat when he tells you that most of them are random
-Your shirt rising up a little when reaching for something in the cupboard “I got it, love,” he’d say as he comes up behind you, purposely resting his hand on the exposed skin and pressing himself against you
-Laughing at his stupid jokes
-Biting your lip in nervousness
-Biting your lip in attraction
-Getting really excited when he finally agrees to let you paint one hand and one hand only
-Your fascination with his rings “Keep them on. I love the way they feel on me,” you whisper seductively and he grips your wide hips harder
-Sucking on his finger when he drags it across your full lips “You have no idea what you do to me,” he says after a sharp intake of breath
-Being shy changing around him “S’nothing I haven’t seen before, babe”
-Not taking anyone’s shit
-Making silly faces and doing impressions to cheer him up when he’s upset
-Making it a point to leave love bites all over him after sex “All mine,” you’d say after leaving the last one on his collarbone
FRIEND, I HAVE SO MANY FEELINGS ABOUT FINN BEING BODHI'S LEGACY. Him scouring the FO records for this mysterious defector, who could ever do such a thing? Or him knowing NOTHING of Bodhi prior to his own defection and learning about him from Poe, and when he meets new FO-defectors, shaking and terrified, he says to them, I used to be FN-2187 and now I'm Finn and let me tell you of a brave man called Bodhi, and we will accomplish great things, just as he did. SORRY, NEEDED TO FLAIL AT YOU.
listen, one of the biggest motifs of Rogue One is “the message” or “I am” statements. for Bodhi, it’s “I am the messenger” and “I am the pilot.” Bodhi is not like the rest of the team! he has no combat training! he is a cargo pilot–the most anonymous, low-level job there is in the Star Wars universe.
and yet!! he goes down in history, as part of the team that took down the death star.
no way that doesn’t send shockwaves throughout the galaxy. no way his name isn’t stricken from the annals of the empire, no way the rebellion doesn’t scrawl his name across the walls in graffiti, in code. THE ROGUE SQUADRON BASICALLY CLAIMS HIM AS THEIR ORIGINATOR. we get people yelling “for jedha!” on the beaches of scarif, how much do you want to bet we get rebels and defectors from the empire crying out, “FOR BODHI!” when they run into battle? “remember Bodhi Rook,” the intelligence force says to one another in the wake of Cassian’s death.
FN-2187 only hears about the Defector, as the First Order refers to him, during the admonitions to stay loyal, that he is a cautionary tale. “he died alone,” they say, “remember this: he died alone.”
what FN-2187 thinks to himself in the wake of the village massacre is that he died free.
“what was the Defector’s name?” he asks General Leia half-fearfully, expecting to be rebuked or punished for even asking.
she smiles, full of a strange, fierce pride. “his name was Bodhi Rook. he was the pilot.”
and Finn says to himself, heading into combat with the resistance, “remember Bodhi Rook.”
First off, anon, I’m terribly sorry for how late this is. I can’t even pinpoint when I got this - this has been sitting in my inbox since before I came up with Silent Measures. Which means months. But I’m trying to clear my inbox so here’s something I came up with on the spot.
A Face in the Crowd
Summary: During the Clone Wars, the Jedi were lauded as heroes, but so out of reach of the masses that they seemed at times to be toy soldiers selling war bonds more than actual walking beings. But there were four Republic Days that fell within the Clone Wars, and in each one of them, if you look carefully enough, there are things to be seen that are special. A child watches, is inspired, and remembers, twenty years after.
Characters: Obi-Wan Kenobi, Anakin Skywalker, Aayla Secura, Plo Koon, (and many clones, though only in passing)
(note: this is after Ahsoka leaves, so she isn’t here)
Little Meron Junshi is not sure whether he likes this Republic Day parade.
It technically hasn’t started yet, but the heat is stifling here in the masses milling behind the railings along the Senate boulevard. His father has put him on his shoulders, and the air is a little clearer up here, but Meron would much rather they be back home on Alderaan, where the air is sweeter and the skies much, much bluer.
And less loud. There are many interesting species around him that he has not seen before, but Meron finds the noise rather distracting. And the boulevard before them is still empty, except for the red-and-white armoured clone troopers that stand guard at equal intervals along the railings themselves.
But he will behave, because he his a big boy of eight and his father is here to do important business with Senator Organa, and Meron is only here because he pleaded and pleaded until his parents said yes.
And then suddenly, there is thud of a plasma cannon from high above, so deep and low that Meron feels it shudder through his frame and down to his father’s wide shoulders; and the guarding troopers snap to attention with a muted thud of armoured boots against duracrete.
This first thud echoes across the suddenly silent masses; and in the distance, under the Senate Building itself, comes an answering drumbeat.
Then another. And another.
And then a steady tramp-tramp-tramp comes filtering down the boulevard, and before Meron can do anything but sit up straighter on his father’s shoulders, the first company of clone troopers come into view.
The Coruscant Guard is first, led by a proud-shouldered trooper with a helmet visored in grey and painted in red, the etched plaques on his armour marking him as a commander.
Meron gapes as row after row of red-white troopers follow, posture ramrod-straight, each holding a blaster at parade ready. The cadence of their steps are so well-matched that if Meron were to close his eyes, he could imagine a singe titan was thundering down the boulevard, and not nearly a hundred and fifty men of one company.
The crowd around them is shrieking with excitement.
A company of soldiers, each with stylised wolf-head painted on their grey-lined white armour, and striding confidently at their head, a Kel Dor Jedi with russet robes flowing jauntily in the wind.
Plo! The crowd is screaming. Plo Koon!
The Wolfpack! Meron stares, wide-eyed, so engrossed in the clean lines of General Plo’s wolves that he nearly misses the ground-shaking thud that follows.
Five paces after the last grey-painted trooper comes twin files of eight AT-TEs, six-limbed bodies creaking with every solid stamp of durasteel legs. And marching between, standing on, and holding to the side of these giant assault walkers are many yellow-striped troopers. Most strikingly, somehow balanced perfectly on a walker placed centrally between the two main lines, is a blue-skinned Twi’lek woman with a smile on her face and a lightsaber at her hip.
SECURA! The masses yell, in a hundred thousand different sentient voices. SECURA!
She stands tall, but her smile widens.
Company after company come, whole battalions and legions painted every colour of the galaxy, each with a Jedi marching before them, or sometimes two, with the younger marching alongside a clone captain.
Meron watches, dumbstruck, as hero after hero steps off the war-reels and into reality, like toy soldiers ripped from the holonet and placed within reach.
But then a roar of pure sound sweeps through the masses like an oncoming wave, and Meron is nearly unseated from his father’s shoulders.
The troopers coming into view now are painted with bold gold stripes.
And at their head, stepping with a calmly fluid gait-
-is a Jedi with red-gold hair and cream robes, and eyes the colour of a silent sea above a beard trimmed to immaculate neatness.
Meron forgets to breathe.
Obi-Wan Kenobi, The Negotiator.
The multitude raves. There is no collective chant, now, not like before; overlapping screams of KENOBI and NEGOTIATOR and OBI-WAN rise in an increasing cacophony of unleashed madness.
Throughout all this, Meron only watches the Negotiator.
General Kenobi steps in time with his men, but something in the smooth effortlessness of his pace and the gravity of the tabards over his shoulders speaks of a noble sadness, mixed with extraordinary determination.
Sadness, in the middle of the greatest parade of the year?
Meron lowers he hand he was using to wave, and frowns. He is struck with the sudden impression that General Kenobi would look much the same leading his men into battle.
But then there is a blare of trumpets, and Meron nearly gives himself whiplash as he jerks his head to look.
These new troopers are painted blue.
The crowd is shouting in synchrony, now.
SKYWALKER! SKYWALKER! SKYWALKER!
The Hero With No Fear himself is stood next to Chancellor Palpatine, on a slow-moving barge surrounded on all sides by a sea of blue-and-white armour. His smile is rakish, his waving casual, and the scar that curves around the edge of one eye effortlessly cool.
Meron stares at Anakin Skywalker, and wonders if he imagines that those ice-blue eyes flicker towards him, if just for a moment.
Meron does not waste it. He straightens up so abruptly that his father grunts in surprise, but he does not pause to think about it - instead, he nearly slaps himself in the forehead as he salutes.
He is halfway through the motion already before he realises General Skywalker is looking at him.
Krayt spit! Meron tells himself, knowing his father would give him a good scolding if he heard the words out loud - I probably look stupid!
But what is done is done. The edge of his right hand is pressed to his forehead.
The General watches him for a moment - it cannot be more than half a second, but it seems the longest moment in Meron’s short life - and then suddenly, General Skywalker raises two fingers to his forehead and flicks them to the side in a jaunty salute.
In return to his.
Meron’s brain smashes into a wall of disbelief and disintegrates into awed smithereens.
It is only after the barge has passed by, and the next company is marching past that Meron remembers that he should drop his hand. He lets it fall by his side, numb.
He barely registers the rest of the parade.
He is grinning so widely his cheeks ache.
“Father,” Meron says, later, when a squadron of LAAT/is have flown overhead and the crowd is beginning to disperse, “I’d like to join the Alderaani guard.”
“Oh? And why is that?” his father says distractedly, holding one of Meron’s ankles to stop him from sliding off.
“I want to be a General,” Meron says.
There is a long pause. Meron’s father slows his pace, and stops.
“War isn’t as fun as you think, Meron.” His father’s voice sounds different.
“Talk to me when you’re eighteen. We’ll see then.”
“Okay!” Meron chirps happily, as his father carries him across the sea of Coruscanti crowds, and away from the Senate boulevard, its white duracrete surface stamped grey with the feet of two hundred thousand men.
Twenty years later, clutching a blaster and kneeling in a white-walled corridor swamped with shadow, Meron Junshi thinks of that long-ago Republic Day. Of the sun and the chants and the bright-painted soldiers with their Jedi Generals.
He had gone to his father when he was eighteen, and he had gotten his wish.
The Alderaani guard had led to a permanent place in the Rebellion, and the Rebellion…here.
Behind him is a short passageway, and beyond that, the Tantive IV, with a precious person aboard. In front of him is a darkened corridor, which lies silent and still beyond the echoing howl of the klaxons.
And then Meron becomes aware of another noise.
A sawing, unnatural breathing, like air rasped through a grille of harsh desert sand.
And the passageway is lit with a bar of crimson plasma.
Oh, Meron thinks, as his finger tightens on the trigger and plasma spews uselessly out of the barrel of his blaster. You were right, father.
War is not a parade, with sun in your eyes and bright-painted soldiers and their much-loved generals marching before them; war is red-painted white walls, and flashing bolts, and screaming, and the never-quickening and never-slowing breaths of a shadow that reaches for you, and grasps you with invisible hands, and sends a screaming blade of blood-red light slashing towards your chest.
“Take it! Take it!”
And Meron knows that perhaps there is a little truth in what his eight-year-old self thought about war: War is nothing without hope.
Hope, to a boy watching a war parade on his father’s shoulders, is to receive an acknowledgement from the General he loved so much as a hero.
Meron stares into those hard black lenses, and holds this image in his mind as he dies.
He has no time, before the end, to wonder if he imagined Darth Vader flinch.
I hope this makes up for how late this is, anon. I made up Meron on the spot; his name means soldier. Reblog as you like, and thanks for reading, everyone.
Now I'm kinda bummed that we didn't get to see Cassian express his OUTRAGE that Jyn TOTALLY STOLE HIS LINE at the council meeting. If only he wasn't off RAISING A STRIKE TEAM for a woman he TOTALLY HATED.
boy, you said it nonny. he would be super pissed and not get stars in his eyes at all. he also hated her, which is why he went back for her three times and welcomed her home. he definitely did not want to die in her arms at the end, or do anything even remotely romantic in elevators. that must have been the *other* rogue one (2016), dir. gareth edwards.
What if the Rogues get to be The Flash's major threat next season? What if at the end of Legends, Len is somehow alive and the timeline is intact but he still never had a connection with Barry or the Legends? They go back to before his deal with the Flash? And Len's against making a deal this time around because he figures thats when he started to get soft and ended up dead.
What if the Rogues get to be The Flash’s major threat next season?
And by “hello” I mean “Rogues”.
No but really, that’s all I want.
I have no idea if they’d go that route, but I think it’s safe to say that the show writers have realized that the speedster villains have tired out the audience and the next most obvious choice is the Rogues in some capacity or another.
And personally I’m a fan of a Len who doesn’t kill innocents and does know Barry’s name but isn’t really on the good guys’ side, is still a thief and criminal and willing to be violent and do what he has to without playing by their rules. So I’d hope for this Len (legion!Len, after he ditches the Legion) but with some form of understanding with Barry maybe. It might be nice to see them go full-tilt against each other though.
Ahhhh, there’s so many possibilities. Honestly though, so long as Len is alive at the end of this season of Legends, I’ll call it a win.
I recall a mention that you had not seen Rogue One, but there's some nifty concept art from it for Vader under the suit that could *easily* fit DAV.
Hmm. Well, I gotta be honest, in spite of Disney, I actually still think that the Vader suit doesn’t come fully off. It was built into and around him, and I got the impression from the original movies that only the mask and helmet, and probably part of the armor, are really removable. But I don’t think his limbs are removable outside of a surgical setting, and the life support apparatus is a constant, too.
That said, I don’t think I’ve written anything in DAV that actually specifies that, and I’m not planning to, so if you prefer Rogue One’s interpretation, feel free to imagine DAV that way too. :)
but what if Len brings Lisa in for show and tell EVERY DAY? Teacher: "you can't bring a baby to class every day even for show and tell." Len: "but Lisa's the best thing I have!" Hearts melt. Len: "and if I don't bring her she's alone all day and she doesn't like that." Hearts break
“She’s alone all day”
Waller: but she’s… a baby.
Waller: i… think i need to call child protective services…
In which Amanda Waller adopts Len and Lisa? Yes? Yes.
Cheiloproclitic - Being attracted to someone’s lips.
(From the TA!Cassian & Student!Jyn ‘verse)
Jyn should be paying attention. She knew that she should - this was the last lecture that they’d have before the midterm, and it was extremely important for her to pay fucking attention to the material so that she could make an attempt to pass, but she could never tear her eyes away from the TA sitting at the front of the class, always watching the mass of them through often inscrutable eyes.
Inevitably, her eyes were always drawn to Cassian. She barely resisted the urge to snicker when he was tasked with grading, and she could practically hear the curses he uttered as he read something so unbelievably off-base that it was a miracle that his red pen did not rip through the paper entirely as he mercilessly tore apart whoever dared put such drivel in front of him, his lips pressed together in a thin, hard line.
Jyn’s knowledge of the Spanish language was middling at best, but she always recognized the way his lips curled around phrases like ‘chinga tu madre’, ‘pendejo’, or his personal favorite, ‘no mames’. Plenty of times, she’d had to look away before she laughed out loud, disturbing the class from whatever they were doing. And sometimes, Cassian caught her staring, and she had to look away before his lips curled into a smirk, and she found herself blushing madly, desperate not to call attention to that fact.
His pen was never so rough with her papers. Part of that was most definitely due to the many hours they spent outside of class time studying together.
His lips did not curl around such harsh words when they were blessedly alone together, either. She found herself fascinated by the way they whispered much softer things against her ear as he mapped out every inch of her body underneath gentle, questing fingertips - ‘amada’, he called her, ‘bella’, pleaded with her in soft tones to gift him with as many kisses as she could stand, ‘dar mi un beso’ a command she would always acquiesce to. ‘Mi haces feliz’, he murmured once, and Jyn’s breath caught in her throat when she realized that she felt the exact same way. Hiding away from the world at large wasn’t exactly the most ideal way to have a relationship, but once the semester was over and they were no longer in each other’s academic orbit, that would change.
And Jyn Erso was not exactly a paragon of patience, but she could find it within herself to wait for that.
(She could wait for the moment that ‘te amo’ tumbled from his lips … and if she couldn’t, then she’d be sure to say it first. But she knew without a shadow of a doubt that she could and would and quite possibly already did.)
‘Pienso en ti siempre’, he’d whispered against her mouth once, and she couldn’t help her amused huff of breath in return once he’d explained what he meant. He was a distraction for her, too, always, every day, no matter what she was doing, whether she was in class, or at work, or spending time with other friends who had noticed that she’d effectively disappeared from her usual social activities and did not believe that ‘studying’ was the reason she was staying away, adamant upon dragging her away from what little time she and Cassian had to spend together, tucked safely away within the confines of his private room, and sometimes her dorm room when her roommate disappeared for days on end to spend all of her time with her boyfriend across campus.
It was easy to get lost in thoughts of Cassian, the kisses that they shared - hesitant, at first, sweet and gentle and more than enough to take her breath away. It was easy to get lost in thoughts of rougher kisses, too, full of barely restrained passion after the difficulty of always being so close, but never quite close enough, giving into the need for each other that constantly simmered just below the surface of their skin.
And it was easy to get lost in those thoughts at the most inopportune times, too, sighing softly at the remembrance of those lips as they trailed kisses from her lips along her jawline, and to her throat, which always made her shiver. She nearly whimpered every time she relived the way he pressed languid, deliberate kisses along the length of her collarbone, and the way he smirked at her before he pressed a long line of kisses down, down, down until he was settling between her thighs and looking up at her from underneath coquettishly lowered eyelashes - God, how she was envious of his eyelashes! - before trailing delicate kisses along the length of one soft inner thigh, teasing fingertips blazing a trail down the other.
Oh, the things he could do with his mouth! That talented, bordering on the verge of obscene, deliciously filthy mouth that could reduce her into a quivering puddle of Jyn with just a few choice words, whether their lips were brushing as they shared words of affection, or he was murmuring all the naughty things he’d still like to do to her against her ear while she weakly protested about needing to study just one more chapter, or he was whispering ‘please, Jyn’ when she took the initiative to tease him into incoherence.
Cassian (and by extension, his mouth) never, ever failed to satisfy. And Jyn could never, ever keep her mind off of him for very long. She hadn’t meant to stare, lost in her thoughts, but when she came around and realized that she’d missed a good chunk of the lecture, she couldn’t help feeling at least a little amused. To say that she had it bad was an absolute understatement.
She’d never felt for anyone else what she felt for Cassian. And, she hoped, he felt the exact same way about her. It certainly seemed like he might, when she met his eyes and realized that he’d been watching her as intently as she had been him. Her cheeks flushed a pretty shade of pink, and she unconsciously worried her bottom lip between her teeth, and he -
Well. For as much as he tried to appear unaffected by everything going on around him, Jyn’s keen gaze did not miss the moment that his breath hitched in his throat, nor the way he subtly shifted positions in his chair just so.
Maybe he was thinking of her in the same ways she was thinking of him.
And maybe they were both looking forward to the promise of later.
She nodded almost imperceptibly, her full lips turning up into the hint of a smile, and his eyes lit up in return.
Yes, later, all those wants would come to fruition. Later, their mouths would crash together in their desperation to be together, their hands would impatiently pull and tug clothing out of the way and off, and they could show each other just how much they’d missed each other in the hours that they’d had to be apart. Later, they could indulge in those words of affection that were so close to crossing the line into words of love.