rogueonekink | ROGUE ONE KINK MEME: ROUND ONE

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RULES TO KEEP IN MIND:

No kink or pairing bashing, YKINMK (your kink is not my kink), if you are uncomfortable with a post for any of these reasons, ignore it.
OT, any off topic discussion should be moved to the discussion post.
No prompt/thread hijacking, if you want something differently done create your own prompt/fill.
Non anon-posting is allowed.
PROMPT-FREEZES, I doubt we will have any major freezes unless activity goes crazy after the film comes out, so I'm not going to go into this yet.

WHAT IS NOT ALLOWED:

There is no current limit on how many prompts you can submit daily, but please remember if you are submitting 10 prompts a day, to try and fill one for someone else.
NO UNDERAGE PROMPTS OR FILLS. I know some kink memes allow this, but I have to follow official US Federal law guidelines on this subject.
CROSSOVERS - Are acceptable, but please remember Rogue One characters have to still be part of the prompt/fill.

RULES FOR PROMPTS:

TITLE, your title should include pairings and characters (if apply) and a quick general idea of what the prompt is about. You might also include warnings on the title.
PROMPT WORD LIMIT, I'm not going to include any word limits on prompts for the time being, but please use common sense. If a prompt is going over 1,000 words try to cut it down.
Again, no thread hijacking, similar prompts are allowed if you are inspired by someone else's prompt but want something done differently. Yet, please note prompts that are just a complete repost of another will be deleted. Thread reposting will be allowed in a separate post later on.
WARNINGS, I'm not going to enforce mandatory warnings (for now), but again, common sense here. If your prompt/fill has a sensitive topic that needs a warning (gore, rape, etc.), include it.
Be courteous, no fighting is a big one. But if someone fills your prompt try to leave at least a "thank you".

RULES FOR FILLS:

Remember to share your fill in the fills post so others can find them.
You can link your fill to outside sources (tumblr, AO3, FF.net, etc.).
Multiple fills are allowed, the more the merrier.
If you are linking to a previous fill or story that might meet the guidelines of someone's prompt it does not count as a fill.
De-anon-ing is fine, just remember to include a link under your fill.

HAVE FUN! <3

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

A/N: Thank you all for the lovely comments! Here's the last part; I'm still not completely satisfied with this, but I'll post it on AO3 once I've had a chance to pick it over.

She’s seen Cassian’s hands operate everything from flight controls to a blaster, seen them disable Stormtroopers and apply bacta patches with the same impersonal efficiency, and there’s something incongruous about the sight of them now, sifting carefully through an incomprehensible array of needles and thread and awls and tools she has no name for. Peacetime tools, the sort of things that have no place in a life like the one Cassian Andor leads.

(She remembers, in a sickening flash, his hands pushing the shirt from her shoulders, leaving her bare to the cold. The familiar smell of him cut through with blood, the sound of his breathing. His hands were shaking. She remembers that.)

“I wouldn’t have expected you to know how to sew,” she says quietly, after a few moments. Her voice still sounds too loud in the thick silence.

Cassian shrugs, threads a needle and pulls the damaged garment to him. “It’s a useful skill. Besides, my mother always liked to sew. They tell me he had a gift for it.”

She watches his nimble fingers begin repairing the shirt with quick small stitches, so neat that they’re nearly invisible. He’s never mentioned his mother to her before. Never mentioned any other family at all, for that matter. “Is she the one who taught you?”

Cassian gives her a brief flicker of a smile. “No. She died when I was very young. I lived with a tailor and her wife for a while. They taught me.”

“Not a lot of tailors in the Rebellion.”

“You’d be surprised.” He ties off the thread and snips it, rolls the remainder around his fingers before tucking thread, needle, and scissors back into their places. Hesitates for a moment, then holds out her shirt to her. “Here.”

“Good as new,” Jyn says, half-smiling and taking it. It really is, almost. She can barely see the repair job. “Thank you.”

Cassian nods. All the tension seemed to seep out of him while he worked, but it’s back now in spades, visibly knotting up his spine. He shoves the sewing kit back into his bag and begins to stand. “I should—”

Without thinking, Jyn reaches out and catches his hand. He freezes.

She opens her mouth, then shuts it. Cassian doesn’t speak, but he also makes no move to pull away; he’s just watching her, his expression wary.

“I’m sorry,” she says finally. “For what happened between us. I’m sorry.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” he says, his voice flat and quiet. His fingers twitch in hers, then still.

“No,” Jyn agrees. “But it wasn’t yours, either.”

He squeezes his eyes shut; a muscle tenses in his jaw. “I should go.”

He still hasn’t tried to pull away from her. “You should stay.”

“Jyn—”

“You should stay,” she repeats, and tugs gently on his hand. He could easily extricate himself if he wanted to, but he doesn’t; instead, he allows himself to be pulled down onto the thin mattress, to sit beside her. His hair is falling into his eyes, and when she reaches up with her free hand to brush it back, he turns his face into her touch, stubble rasping lightly against her palm.

“What do you want?” he asks softly. There’s no challenge in it this time.

Jyn rests her hand on his cheek for a moment, then lets it drop to his chest, feeling the warmth of him through his rough tunic, the slight rise and fall of his ribcage, his speeding pulse. Remembers how kriffing terrified she was when they were beating him that they wouldn’t stop, that he would die right there on the dirty floor in front of her.

“I don’t know,” she says finally, honestly. “But I’ve lost enough to this war. I won’t lose you, too.”

“I haven’t gone anywhere.”

“Yet,” she agrees. “There’ll be a mission— there’s always a mission, isn’t there? And you’ll be gone, or I will, and the next time we’re in the same place it’ll just be so much simpler to leave it alone, to just be… what, distant acquaintances who greet each other when we pass in the hallways? Is that it?”

“It would be simpler,” Cassian concedes, and there’s a resigned note in his voice that tells her she’s hit the nail squarely on the head.

It would be easier to be angry if she hadn’t been considering exactly the same thing. Neither of them is much good at this. “Simpler isn’t better.”

He closes his eyes; his chest rises and falls beneath her hand. She’s never touched him like this, not since that moment on the beach, surrounded by roaring blinding whiteness and sure she was about to die. Even in the cell, he barely touched her beyond what was necessary. She had his cock inside her, and still her hands barely know the shape of his body.

Cassian is still for a long moment. Then, slowly, he reaches up to cover her hand with his. His breath leaves him in a soft sigh; his shoulders slump. Jyn laces their fingers together, and for a time they just stay like that, breathing together, quiet.

“It wasn’t your fault,” she says again, after a while. He knows that; of course he does. But knowing and believing are two very different things. He was the one who wasn’t chained to the wall; he was the one who could have fought.

It would have been stupid, and both of them would have died. A different man would have done it anyway, but Cassian is a pragmatist and a survivor. Like her. They have that in common, and she can’t bring herself to hate him for it when she would have done the exact same thing in his place.

“I know,” he says quietly.

“We survived.”

He nods. She shifts closer to him, leans into the heat of his body and rests her head on his shoulder, and he doesn’t flinch away like she was half-expecting. He’s warm and solid against her, always stronger than he looks. All whipcord muscle and bone and sheer bloody-minded determination: the closest thing to home that she’s had since she was a child.

“We survived,” Jyn says again, firmly. “And we’ll be okay. We will.”

Cassian still doesn’t answer, but after another moment his arm comes around her.

They stay like that for a long time, not moving. His hand is warm and steady where it rests on her arm, the sound of his breath as even as waves on a beach in the stillness around them.

Jyn closes her eyes.

***

When K-2SO comes looking for Cassian Andor some hours later, it finds the captain slumped on his bed, snoring lightly into Jyn Erso’s hair while she drools on his shoulder. It considers the scene for several minutes, then replaces the privacy screen and returns to the briefing room.

“Apologies, Colonel,” it says. “I was unable to locate either of them.”

oHMIGOD I SQUEALED out loud when I saw this part had been posted.

Every bit of this is so good: Jyn refusing to lose Cassian, thinking about how little of him she knows, and how similar they are as survivors. And the coda with K2 wraps it up perfectly.

p.s. I believe I saw a few sentences of this float by on my dash earlier today... so I'm pretty sure I know where to look for this fic when posted. ;-)

This fill was beautiful. Thank you, thank you, thank you for writing it!

ROGUE ONE KINK MEME: ROUND ONE

FILL: it's a small crime (Cassian/Jyn, non-con, fuck-or-die aftermath) 7/7

Re: FILL: it's a small crime (Cassian/Jyn, non-con, fuck-or-die aftermath) 7/7

Re: FILL: it's a small crime (Cassian/Jyn, non-con, fuck-or-die aftermath) 7/7