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cue Cassian pining after Jyn 

longingly staring at Jyn whilst cleaning his gun

the one she stole from him

it’s a metaphor for his heart

I do mean his *actual* gun not like ~his gun~

Kaytoo being torn between actually giving Jyn info on Festian traditions or like not

did I mention pining?

also Jyn who’s like cautiously happy with what they have but like lowkey certain that one day he’s going to leave

because everyone leaves

everyone

SO LIKE BETTER NOT TO SAY ANYTHING AT ALL

so like pining

mutual pining

I have no idea where I’m going with this

OH YEAH FEST TRADITIONS

because like

tradition

and pining

Cassian wasn’t sure when he realized it, but at some point in the years that he’s grown to know and love Jyn, he was convinced she was the one for him.

He wasn’t even quite sure when he realized he loved her, for that matter.

“Probably the day you decided not to ask for your blaster back,” K2 once commented.

This was was probably true; his possessions were few, and thus he treasured every one of his items, right down to the buckles on his boots. Everything was held near and dear, constantly maintained for longevity, each nick, scratch, and scuff so uniquely him.

Everything he owned became molded to his body and the way he held things, and yet this rebellious woman- who wasn’t even in the kriffing Rebellion at the time- rifled through his things and took his blaster. And then had the gall to lie to his face about having “found” it. She was cheeky and she challenged him, and continued to challenge him even when he least wanted a mirror to be shoved in front of him for self-assessment. She’d call him out on things where needed, without hesitation, and yet he couldn’t find himself to be mad at her for it. They pushed and pulled, never resting, always moving, and somehow there was a comfort in that chaos. It was there in the way she embraced him when things went wrong, in the way he traversed several flights just to see her at the top of a tower, in the way the noises and roars of war surrounded them but they managed to be able to look in each other’s eyes, whisper to each other, and be heard.

all right, I’ll give some of this a shot, hopefully it turns out okay…

-

Absurdly, Cassian saying Jyn could keep the blaster felt like a gift.  Something about the quiet way he’d said, it’s yours, and the small smile she’d caught shifting across his face, the twitch of his lip, the subtle warmth in his eyes.  

She’d been grateful, of course, to keep the gun.  She had grown used to the weight of it in her hand and her holster.  And on a basic level, it was nice to not have to find another one.  This one was– well.  She wouldn’t dare admit to being sentimental about objects, but there was a personal history to this blaster.  She’d carried it on Jedha, Eadu, Scarif, and after.  And it had been Cassian’s before she’d nicked it.  She hadn’t been subtle about the theft, had certainly not been subtle with that challenge she’d thrown before his feet on Yavin– trust goes both ways.

He let her keep it.  Both times.  But it felt different the second time.

Bodhi was waiting when he disembarked, his jacket slung over his arm as he walked from the cool recycled air of the ship to the blistering heat of the rebellion’s newest hiding spot. Cassian smiled, thumped his friend’s back, and tried not to be too obvious about scanning the bustling hangar over his shoulder.

“She’s running a training session,” Bodhi said as soon as they stepped back. 

Cassian sighed, and let the (clearly pointless) neutrality drop form his face. “In this heat?” he grimaced, shifting his pack on his already sweating back. Apatros was an old Republic planet in the Outer Rim, where a once-mighty company had mined for valuable minerals until they, like everything else on this dustball, ran dry. Cassian tried not to think too hard about the rebellion burrowing down in the old mine shafts where slaves once lived and toiled and died by the thousands. The pitted reddish stone that made up the walls, ceilings, and floors didn’t help much, calling to mind old blood stains. Or at least, that’s what it made Cassian think of – Jyn said that with all the people and ships constantly streaming through the narrow tunnels, it felt more like being a blood vessel in a giant beating heart.

Parka (The Only Thing She Had Left)

and

Scarf (The Only Thing He Kept)

a “diptych” of sorts for @captainandors

It’s just a quick extraction mission, she reasoned.

But, another part of her whispered, Just in case…

“Wait!” she called out, and Cassian seemed just a bit too eager to pause and turn back around.

Hastily, she unwrapped her scarf from her neck and draped it loosely around Cassian’s, fixing it so that the frayed edges were level with each other.

What she hadn’t expected, however, was for Cassian to remove his parka and swung it around her to rest it on her own shoulders.

“Take care of my parka, then,” he said in a hushed tone, and Jyn noticed that his hands felt even heavier on her shoulders as he let go of what was essentially his version of a security blanket.

“You better come back,” she joked, backing away from the ramp and pointing at him good-naturedly. “You’re not allowed to die until you bring back my scarf!”

Cassian chuckled. “You’re not allowed to die until you return my parka. Good?”

Fix-it week day 6 ☆ how they live after the war

HAPPY BEACH TIMES

REBELCAPTAIN FIX-IT WEEK