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    Summary

    "I have a birthday request," Jyn announced.

    Bodhi laughed, agog. Cassian groaned and rolled his hips to tempt her back into movement. “Your birthday was last month. You’ve got almost a year to go until your next request,” Bodhi reminded her.

    Oh, and what a birthday it had been for Jyn. Clarifying, on so many fronts, on what birthdays were really for. Her men had indulged her more brazen tendencies and had let her choose where to fuck them; Bodhi in the cockpit of Rogue One, her straddling his lap in the pilot seat; Cassian at the edge of a nearby lake, half-covered in rain and dirt and long grass. And they had all enjoyed the venture enough to inspire her into arranging for Cassian and Bodhi's fun earlier that morning.

    But now she was onto the next idea. Jyn made a contemplative noise. “A suggestion for your birthday, then."

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