#wants needs and clerical errors

[tarabyte3]

‼️ All fics have an explicit rating ‼️ 18+ only

Bold = Completed | Italics = In Progress

Reprieve

Kino Loy finds reprieve in his memories every night while lying in his prison cell.

Wake Up, Look Me in the Eyes Again | 3.2k | Kino Loy x M!Reader

Alone in your cell, you have to do something to get Kino Loy out of your head. Unfortunately, he catches you. Or rather, very fortunately, as luck would have it.

Wants, Needs, and Clerical Errors | 22.9k | Kino Loy x F!Reader

Playlist

You're only on Narkina 5 due to a mistake on your transfer paperwork and no one in charge seems to care. The work is horrific and being the only woman there is a nightmare, but Kino Loy is... intriguing. Okay, he's hot. He's very hot.

I Want You to Show Me Weak | 104k | Kino Loy x F!Reader

Chapter 25 | Playlist

You're pretty sure Kino Loy hates you. He screams at you, grabs you, and shoves you against the wall, and it's becoming a problem because, well...it shouldn't fluster you as much as it does.

Untitled Series | Trainer!Kino Loy x F!Reader

[Coming soon!]

The Devil Makes Us Sin | 38.2k | David Robey x F!Reader

Chapter 4 | Playlist

Your life isn't perfect, and you don't enjoy moonlighting as a camgirl for so many repulsive men, but you need the money and at least it's yours. You're getting by just fine. You're content. At least you thought you were. Then you get a strange text message. And you aren't sure if you're horrified or intrigued.

And Your Heart, Love, Has Such Darkness | David Robey x F!Reader

[Coming Soon!]

The Fear Has Gripped Me, but Here I Go | 13.4k | F!Reader x Liam Black

Playlist

It was so easy to develop a crush on Liam Black. He's sweet, handsome, funny, and all of your conversations feel effortless. How could you not? Maybe it was too easy because you're starting to fall a little deeper and you can't stop calling him whenever you need a taxi.

#masterlist #fic masterlist #fanfiction #kino loy #kino loy x reader #david robey #david robey x reader #liam black #liam black x reader #reprieve #wake up look me in the eyes again #wants needs and clerical errors #i want you to show me weak #the devil makes us sin #the fear has gripped me but here i go #andy serkis #x reader

[attractthecrows]

oh christ i forgot about ainsam. drunken cleric my beloved

#ainsam zikka #a very badly spelled german 'lonely bitch' #(einsam zicke) #HES SOOOOOOOO #i stole him from elsword and made him my own character. unfortunately i never QUITE figured out which deity would apply to him #cuz in elsword ainchase is like literally a godsent angel tagging along with the party to fix continuity errors #and I didn't want to finagle that so i wiped his memories and made him a cleric #his Background TM is that his old party entered a dungeon crawling with mindflayers #he got hit with Dominate Will or some similar spell and killed his entire party including his boyfriend #when he came to he'd barely been rescued by a different party who destroyed the dungeon instead of resurrecting ain's group #he couldn't bring any of them back and couldn't bring himself to join the new party #so he found a village in need of a priest and started drinking to forget #his signature gimmick is to declare holy ground for him to then pass out in so he can't be disturbed #his equipment is old and in need of repairs - his pendulum and armors were a gift from the old party that he refuses to get rid of #oh yeah his casting medium is a bigass steel pendulum lmfao. its technically got spikes. it has an enchanted eye in the middle of it #i gotta dig him back up he was SO FUCKING FUN

[redbuddi]

one of the many projects I thought about doing but have decided to abandon and y'all can take it if you want: a harry potter fic that is about how the magical world actually kind of sucks. Main character is a trans girl who is invited to the school years late due to a clerical error. (McGonnagal accidentally knocked over the magic quill that writes down the names of magical babies the moment they're born ((yes this is real in the lore)) and the mc's deadname was written on the floor and went unnoticed for several years.)

At first she's into it because her home life sucks and she wants to learn magic, but it becomes clear to her very quick that the magical world is both highly absurd and hostile toward anyone who doesn't fit into it's rigid binaries, including herself. The rest of the story is her trying to escape back to the muggle world, and in the end she exposes the magical world in the hopes that magic can be accessed by those who actually need it.

The main antagonist is Harry Potter himself, who first meets the main character after she causes some trouble at the school and he's called in. At first he tries to be friendly, he had a hard life too, and the main character thinks he might be the one person on her side, but once she decides that magic should be shared with the world Harry turns against her. While he was willing to sympathize with her and even acknowledge some things about the magic world aren't great, he will not go against the society that he benefits from.

Idea abandoned because a major factor of this would be addressing and taking seriously even the most ridiculous lore factoids and that would mean I'd have to go through JK's twitter and reading the books and I don't want to do that.

[boundinparchment]

Sand and Shells

In which you receive a gift from a friend, who may be more than he seems.

Pure Neuvillette fluff. Dedicated to @surveyycorps because otters are adorable.

Sometimes, you came to this beach outside the city to think. Not always the same time and not always the same day of the week, but nonetheless, it was a ritual. Rain or shine, this was your spot.

You removed your shoes, settled onto the sand, and stuck your feet in the water. Like always. Work was particularly difficult right now; you needed solutions to problems, not short-term fixes, and it was impossible to think at your desk. Especially when the tension and frustration was so thick, you would need a claymore to cut through it. Your supervisor answered to the Chief Justice and you had a feeling that perhaps certain things were being hidden to save face.

As if that would spare a dismissal or a lawsuit.

The Court didn’t take anything lightly, especially clerical errors from poor management.

Resting your cheek on your knee, you stared off into the distance, watching the sun on the ripples of water. It was quiet out this way. The occasional otter, a school of fish, or some crabs but otherwise, you were entirely unbothered.

That was, until you made eye contact with an otter nearby. It tilted its head, watching you. In its paws, a pink shell. Probably lunch.

You gave a small smile and waved. Otters were always fun to watch, especially in their true element underwater, where they glided and flipped and soared. To your surprise, the otter tilted its head in the other direction and gave a distinct chirp before it darted off.

Guess these guys aren’t too used to human company, you thought.

You shifted, clearing your head further and running your fingers through the sand. So lost in thought, you didn’t hear the putter patter of paws on sand nor the chirp; you jumped when you saw the flash of blue and white as a shell was laid at your feet. The otter squeaked but remained close by, watching you on hind legs.

It wasn’t scared after all…

In fact, its eyes were different too. Not inky black at all but silver and purple…more like a melusine…

“Is this for me?” you asked, picking up the shell. “Thank you. I ate already though. You should have it.”

The otter shook its head. When you didn’t open it, it took out a rock from a fur pocket and brought it over.

“If you insist…”

Prying open the shell, you didn’t see the typical meat at all, but rather a pearl, black as night. Pearls themselves were rare out here, let alone those of different color. You plucked it out carefully and marveled at its iridescence.

You smiled and looked back at the otter. Clearly it wanted approval. It understand human speech, to some extent. How odd.

“Thank you. It’s very pretty. I’ll keep it safe. Take your rock back, you need that.”

Offering the stone in the flat of your hand, the otter took it and tucked it back into its pocket. With a chirp and a squeak, it walked away back towards the water; it looked back once and waved before departing back smoothly into the lake.

What an odd little fellow.

You held up the pearl again. There was a jeweler on the way back to your office. Rings would get in the way…a necklace, then. Why let such a beautiful pearl go to waste?

Weeks later, upon a surprise inspection, your supervisor was fired. Chief Justice Neuvillette would, to the best of his schedule, oversee the transition. He spent time getting to know names and faces, and when he came to you, your heart stopped.

His eyes were always so captivating but…surely…

“Black pearls are quite rare. The jeweler did a lovely job…they’re difficult to work with.”

You swallowed and pressed your fingers to the pearl, cold against your skin.

“It‘s from a friend. I doubt I’ll ever meet them again, so I wear it to remember them.”

“Ah. Then they’re quite lucky to have someone as thoughtful as you.”

You would remember that smile, soft and genuine, for days to come.

#neuvillette #gender neutral reader #neuvilette x reader #neuvillette x gn reader #yes yes hydro dragon allegations but also: otter

[utilitycaster]

Level Up: Bells Hells Level 12

As always: are there errors or major omissions? Let me know! Your preferred feat or spell isn’t listed? That’s because it’s not my preferred feat or spell, and you should make your own post for your own preferences! Additionally, because level-ups are no longer done at the end of sessions but are rather their own separate videos, I now include speculation for the next level(s) since there’s often very little time to speculate on the current level.

Chetney: He could take another rogue level, as Fearne has, but I think leveling in blood hunter is by far the wiser choice, though Travis does have the rare carte blanche for being good at mechanics award I just made up. Anyway, rogue would give him cunning action, but blood hunter is a big one: hemocraft die goes up to d8, unarmed strike bonus goes up to +2, and he not only gains another use of hybrid transformation per rest but also can now regenerate a small number of hit points at the start of each turn while injured, which will improve his already impressive tanking prowess. Looking forward: I think he should stick to the single rogue level, honestly, and keep leveling in blood hunter. 12 is an ASI level, so: ASI to strength, int, or con, all key stats, would be best in my opinion. He could even out his wisdom score, but also he's rarely been badly afflicted with bloodlust and this party does not lack for wisdom but does need all the int, str, and stacks of HP it can get.

Laudna: You've already seen my thoughts on sorlock before (if you haven't, basically: I think it's not as strong as people think) so this is a bit tough to optimize. Anyway, warlock 4 is a very narratively valid choice if Marisha wanted to level in order to indicate the impact returning to Delilah has had. It would grant her an ASI/feat, another spell, and another cantrip. Personally, I am once again asking Bells Hells to get some intelligence; as a warlock base Laudna's WIS save is already pretty solid, though a DEX bonus wouldn't hurt her either. I don't actually have a ton of feats in mind since she came in with a bunch of feats. Meanwhile, if she continues in sorcerer, level 9 is something of a milestone level and grants access to 5th level spells (and a new known spell) in addition to the usual sorcery point increase. Ultimately this is a tough choice - I think sorcerer is the superior choice mechanically, but warlock might make more sense in-story. Looking forward: really dependent on which path she takes, honestly, but if she does level in warlock I think she should level in sorcerer next. [Note from JUST NOW: she's taking sorcerer; place your level 5 spell bets now]

FCG: It's an ASI level for the non-multiclassers of the group, and: Wisdom. Up wisdom. I don't care if it's a +1 feat or a +2 ASI, either are valid, but increase wisdom. Last time I mentioned skill expert and observant as options; skill expert is I think the better choice since Orym has observant covered. Looking forward: it's a quiet but powerful time for clerics; level 13 grants seventh level spells and pals, all of them are bangers. Plane Shift and Resurrection are the famous ones, but Fire Storm? Divine Word? Etherealness? Symbol? Not a dud in the bunch.

Fearne: She took rogue last time so I do hope she takes a druid level, because cauterizing flames seems thematically appropriate with the shard and with embracing her power -both its healing and harmful sides - and also it's a fantastic ability. If she does take rogue, I feel like thief is the subclass that makes most sense because in combat, she's going to be relying on druid powers, and thief provides some great out-of-combat utility (and is generally an underrated rogue class). Looking forward: I do like the idea of thief Fearne, but also, level 11 is when she gets Transport via Plants, which is pretty key. Level 11 has a bunch of other great druid spells, as fans of Keyleth during the Briarwoods arc would know: Heal and Heroes' Feast both overlap with FCG's abilities but it doesn't hurt to have access to both; giving Fearne Conjure Fey is particularly funny; Sunbeam rules and she's done great things with Daylight; and Bells Hells is already learning the value of Wind Walk.

Imogen: ASI level and I say even out your stats: + 1 each to INT and WIS. She has a lot of feats already and the only one that I think makes sense to take now is War Caster, but right now she does not have a great wisdom save bonus and again, even a +1 to INT wouldn't hurt (plus she is, iirc, proficient in investigation, making her better at it than anyone but Chetney, so another point in that won't hurt in this part). Looking forward: I am assuming she's going to keep leveling in sorcerer and if things happen re: Predathos or Kord it will be represented by a subclass change rather than a class change or multiclass, but watch this space. Anyway, level 13 is time for seventh level spells, and my vote is for teleport since FCG can cover Plane Shift, but I must admit I do love Prismatic Spray.

Orym: it's another ASI and he gets a zillion of them! My boring ASI-loving ass says +1 to INT and CON. He could also take Sentinel although the big three generals can all probably teleport so I don't know if it's that useful, but Mage Slayer probably would be. Looking forward: At level 13 he gets a second use of indomitable, which is great but there's not a ton to say about it. At level 14 he gets another ASI and he should take whichever of the recs I have up here he doesn't take at level 12.

Ashton: An ASI to them too. I feel the move is to max out strength at this point. The CON loss sucked but their CON was already very good; focus on hitting a little harder. Sentinel and Mage Slayer are also valid options for them, though I'd go for the ASI and let Orym, he of the zillion ASI levels, take those. Looking forward: Brutal critical comes at L13, and a path feature at L14; as their subclass is homebrew I have no idea what that feature might be, but I'm excited.

#critical role #bells hells #cr spoilers

[originalcollectionartistry]

Guess I waited too long part 2

Well! After being continually threatened by my mates and partner to finish it and the requests here, I’ve finished a part 2! It’s angsty and fluffly with a hint of sexy 😉 If y’all want a part 3 of pure smut let me know!

Warnings: mention of torture, clone experimentation, and lots of angst and some foreplay towards the end!!

Word count is a little bit above 4k

Part 1 Part 3

As always, I write for 18+ so MINORS BEGONE!!!

Enjoy!!

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You hadn’t heard from the boys in 20 rotations. You assumed something had happened as they wouldn’t go this long without contacts. Cid was repeatedly calling them, threatening them. You asked Cid to lay off. They probably needed some time to cool off, as Cid had left them stranded on a desert planet. And while Cid claimed no responsibility, you would do the same as the Batch. You’d leave too if you could. But you owed Cid a lot, and after one small mistake at your other job, you were back at the bar full time. It was a small clerical error, something that was easily fixable but that was enough to fire you. 

“If they don’t show their faces, I’m gonna turn them in!” Cid huffed. “You don’t cross me and get away with it!”

Your stomach dropped, fearing the worst now. What if they had been caught? “You don’t mean that Cid. They’ve done a lot more for you than you have for them! Surely you must understand they’re angry. Just because you think you have control doesn’t mean you do anymore. They’re free men.”

You clocked out, not wanting to be near Cid anymore. The place was empty, save for the three regulars. You walked home, hoping to have heard something. You checked your data-pad, hoping to see a coded message but nothing. Not one of them had let you know they were safe. 

You made dinner and watched a holodrama. Not your favourite but it was something to keep your mind off the Batch. After your outburst with Tech at the store, you cried your heart out, calling out sick from your shift at Cid’s that night. You wanted to tell him! Truly you did! It just hurt so much to see him and Phee happy and in love that you had to walk away. 

Your comm chirped with a coded new message, from Phee. The boys were safe and they needed your help. The message ended with coordinates. What in Force’s name would they need your help for?? 

You called Cid, saying your sister was ill and being it was just you and her, you were needed off world. You didn’t have a sister but Cid didn’t know that. You never spoke about your private life in the bar, fearing Cid or someone could blackmail you somehow. Which was a smart move as Cid sent a message back allowing you off world. You never asked for time off so Cid had no reason not to trust you. You said you’d be back as soon as you could, as long as the Empire didn’t convict you on false charges. 

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You were a nervous wreck the whole trip over to Pabu. You really did not want to see Tech; you still felt bad at your outburst and missed him but you did not want to see him and Phee cuddled up. You groaned in pain, your nerves getting the better of your stomach. How were you going to face Tech? You had acted so poorly! Yes you loved him but it was so hard to see him with another person! You felt it was easier for you to push him away, make him hate you so you could force yourself to move on. But you knew that was never going to be the case, cause as you as you landed, you were bombarded with affection from Wrecker.

“There’s my girl!” Wrecker cried out, enveloping you in a hug. You laughed happily, the gentle giant always knowing how to literally sweep you off your feet. 

You returned the hug and Hunter approached next with Omega. Giving them both a hug, you choked back tears, not realising how much you truly missed them. You looked around and saw Tech was nowhere to be found… neither was Phee. Your smile faded, but you forced it to stay on your face a while longer as Hunter showed you around. 

You had to admit, the island was… well, paradise. Sure there were risks of tsunamis but you felt you could live with that. You could see how Hunter had relaxed his shoulders, his face was bright. Wrecker was satiated and NOT hungry!! Omega was laughing and having fun, with kids her own age! You wanted to stay, your complicated relationship with Phee aside, you could happily live here. 

“Ah, you’re here safely. I was wondering if you had received the message. I remember your data-pad having certain security measures.” 

Turning from Hunter you saw Tech, enamoured with his own data pad. You smiled fondly at the clone’s usual posture. “Yes I got them Tech. You had nothing to be concerned about.”

Tech looked up briefly to see you smiling gently, like you used to with him. He did notice, however, that it was a forced smile. A duality of one, both gentle and sincere but forced and painful. Looking back down, he said matter-of-factly, “Of course. Phee knows how to follow instruction and is a highly intelligent individual. While not at my level, she is more than average. I was never concerned about that but if you would find us.”

Ouch. Okay, that one stung, but you felt you deserved it. You had been rather rude and callous towards Tech. Even if he didn’t mean to insult you, it hit deep. 

Phee sat next to Tech as everyone sat around the table you had been led to. Obviously something serious was going on but you did not expect to be told what your role would be and you did not like it!

“Are. You. Karking SERIOUS????” You shouted! “Absolutely not! Cid has saved my ass from the Empire more than once, I am not putting myself in their sights again!”

Hunter looked at you, knowing you were lying and that this wasn’t about the Empire. This was about the nature of the mission and the role you’d play. He looked from you to Tech, feeling the tension rise higher and higher. As uncomfortable as it was, maybe there was a small hope you’d tell Tech the truth. Hunter could feel Tech's heart speed up as your words hurt more than the goggled clone would ever admit. He could also hear how fast your heart was beating and you were basically a loth cat in headlights.

“Why can’t Phee do it? They’re already a couple! They’d make a more convincing married couple than me and Tech!”

“Because I am going to Cid to try and convince her to let the boys off. Make sure she knows they didn’t cross her.”

Tech looked up, pointing his endearing index finger. “Not to mention, Phee is a recognisable character. One glance in her direction and we’d have guards swarming us. You are less so. Able to fly under a guard’s radar.” 

You looked over to see Omega doing her little porg eyes. Sighing, you asked her to go to bed. Confused, she stated she wasn’t tired but you barked back: “Go to your room young lady!”

Hunter gently moved her to her room before scowling at you. You scowled back. How dare he think you’d say yes to a mission like this? Pretending to be a married couple just to get some intel? Yes, you knew it was a chance to see if Crosshair was alive but how dare he assume you’d be okay! Did he really think 20 rotations was enough to get over a man? 

“Kriff every single one of you! I’m going home.”

Phee approached you a second time as you readied your ship. You really did not want to talk to her but you let her slink next to you in the cockpit. You were simply recalibrating the hyperdrive so it would be a smoother ride home. If Phee wanted to sit there, she could. As long as she didn’t speak to you -

“I know why you’re saying no. It’s okay to admit it to me.”

You hissed in her direction, dismissing her claim. She simply smiled and leaned back in the copilot’s chair. You loathed how easy relaxing came to her. As if there was nothing wrong in the galaxy. 

“He talks about you a lot. It’s almost annoying. It’s one of the things that endeared me to him, remembering every little thing about everything. Everyone.” Standing up, she placed a hand on your shoulder. “Just talk to him. He misses you.” 

The kriff was that? You never deemed Phee has the “sharing” type. For kriff’s sake, she nearly got your friends killed because she didn’t want to let go of that stupid heart of the mountain! But even you had to admit; if Phee was saying something about how much Tech missed you, then something was going on and you needed to help. 

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“I will reiterate. I hate all of you right now.” You took a breath. “But, after some thought, I don’t really have a choice, do I? If the target only goes for married women, then Tech and I are the ones going to be convincing enough. As much as I hate admitting that.”

Everyone knew it was true. Wrecker and you were basically brother and sister. Rough housing and pulling pranks. Hunter and you were best friends, recognising attractiveness with no want to pursue. Echo never prioritised romance and so if he were around, it would be a friendship. 

After some more briefing, you walked onto the balcony, drink in hand and a bottle in another. You were going to need a lot of liquor to be able to bear this mission. You hoped it panned out cause you were going to be mad if it was a dead end. 

“Something is troubling you.” There was that voice you loved, coming from the man you never would get over. 

Downing your drink and pouring another you scoffed, “You think? I’m playing your wife while your girlfriend saves your asses from a crime informant. You’re forced to be near me after our last encounter. How in the hell are you not troubled?”

Pausing to process your words, Tech considered you carefully. You looked as beautiful as when he last saw you. Hair down and flowing in the wind, fingers elegantly grasping your glass, legs unintentionally letting all the galaxy know how strong you were at rest. He truly did not how to feel. He missed you, missed your attention. But he was still angry at how you walked away so easily from him and his brothers. 

“I… am. But this mission will be easy. You are a phenomenal actress. You pretended to care for me and that made me notice your absence,” he said.

Before you could defend yourself against his statement he continued. “Plus you are irresistible in most of what you wear. The target will spill whatever you want to hear.” With that he turned to leave. 

Your heart broke hearing his words. But he did just pay you a compliment so you felt you should let him know...

“I do care though… I always have. I never stopped.” He paused at your whispered words before continuing to upgrade the ship. 

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You looked at the wedding band on your finger, hating how it got there. It wasn’t real. It didn’t come the way you desired it to. You wanted it to come from the man you loved, because he loved you back and wanted the whole galaxy to know. You felt like crying, your throat closing and nose tightening. Blinking tears away, you finished your makeup and waited for Tech to get you. 

You hated being back on Coruscant. It reminded you far too much of your days as a medic for the Republic. You had been one of the few non clone, and non Jedi military personnel to serve. You weren’t based with any regiment. However, knowing General Anakin Skywalker, you spent a lot of time with the 501st. Poor Kix had become overwhelmed at times so you were often jumping from trooper to trooper across the battlefield to help him out. It burned you to return to Coruscant and remember your days in the military. You missed the clones; you missed the Republic. No government was perfect in your eyes, but Palpatine aside, you thought the Republic had worked fairly well. You were happy once… not so much anymore. 

Your door slid open, Tech stepping in. He was momentarily breathless at how beautiful you were in your gown. A bright emerald green falling gracefully in all the right place while clinging to your curves perfectly. Your hair was loosely pinned away from your face, framing you in a way that only a goddess could look like. A glittered sheer cape was pinned to the shoulder seam of your dress, your ethereal beauty being augmented. 

“Are you ready?” Tech asked, trying to seem normal, which was easy for him. His voice rarely betrayed any feeling.

You turned to face him, tears already returning. You nodded, “Yes. I’m ready.” Already dreading the act of being fake married to the man you love, who didn’t love you. 

You seemed to play the part of unhappily married wife well as the second Tech left your side, your target, an imperial officer overseeing the phasing out of clones, approached you and bought you a drink. Tech was across the ballroom, firsts threatening to deck the man flirting with you. His jaw was tight and teeth were grinding. He was furious at how easy you seemed to be in the target’s presence, laughing and tossing stray hair back. You were supposed to be that way with him! 

“Tech! Stay focused! You can talk to her after. Just a little longer!” Hunter’s voice rang in his ear. 

He was right. Tech needed to focus. He can process this unusual feeling of jealousy later. It wouldn’t be long now; your face was showing a certain shock that was fearful intrigue. Something was said to make you nervous. 

“The project is fascinating! Using chemical injection to quell insubordination and create the perfect super soldier; it’s a magnificent sight to see.” 

You swallowed slowly, making sure not to choke. You knew the Empire wasn’t above experimenting but torture and mind control was something you didn’t think they would stoop to. Poor Crosshair. You never met him but the boys talked fondly on him so you felt your heart twist. 

“And the clone? Which one was it again? They all look so alike.”

The man smiled; the type of smile that only an evil, slimy demon would have. “Right now, we are using CT 9904. He committed treason by shooting his lieutenant. But he was an enhanced clone so the Empire doesn’t want to dispose of him yet.” 

His hand landed on your thigh, slowly creeping higher and higher. Tech couldn’t take it anymore and moved quickly. He hated seeing the officer’s hand on you, particularly when you didn’t want it there. 

“Hello darling. I have finished my work here. Did you want to go home?” Tech put his hand on your lower back, kissing your temple. 

Your heart clenched, remembering this wasn’t real. He didn’t really want to touch you or kiss you. 

“Aww come on! I’ll take good care of her!” the target exclaimed, obviously not wanting you or his chance at a lay leave. 

You sighed, keening into Tech’s hands. “Yes husband. I’m ready to go home. I think I’ve drank a bit much tonight.” 

You both bid your target goodnight, Tech leading you quickly back to your rooms. He was acting strange you thought, but then again, everything about Tech was wonderfully strange. He was only challenged in games by his own intellect and yet wanted to share everything with everyone. You could see why Phee had clocked on to him. 

Opening the door to your room, you ripped your hair out of its pins, pulling your jewellery off. Your breathing became laboured and forced. Tears fell rapidly, not knowing how to process the evening. Tech stared at you crying and wondered what had been said to you. He knelt in front of you, hands cupping your cheeks begging you to say something. 

“They’re torturing him… Tech! Crosshair is being tortured! They’re using chemicals to control his mind! They’re using pain and chemicals to make him subordinate!” you cried. You could barely breathe but you didn’t miss how Tech tensed in anger. 

His brother was being tortured and that officer thinks he can take what was his? If Tech didn’t hate the Empire before, he certainly did now. 

Moving to sit beside you, he pulled you into his chest, hoping to comfort you. Phee had taught him this was okay to do when someone was upset. He learned a lot of things from his time on Pabu and with Phee. 

“It’ll be alright. We’ll find him and bring him home. I promise you cyare. We’ll send this info to Echo and Rex and see how we can get to him.” 

Cyare… You didn’t know much Mando’a but you knew that. Love. Tech, the man who was already in a relationship, had called you Love. He was oddly protective tonight and this confused you all the more. 

Your breathing slowed and you calmed down. You excused yourself to the fresher, showering and changing into your sleep clothes. When you emerged, Tech had already changed and was on his data pad, no doubt sending the intel to Echo and Rex. You didn’t want to let the ring go but you had to. It wasn’t real. Now or never, you guessed. 

“Here,” you pressed your wedding band into Tech’s hand. He looked up, confused. “Mission’s over. You don’t need to pretend to like me anymore.” 

Tech frowned deeply. “Right. Thank you. I’ll return this to Shep when we return.” 

You grabbed a blanket and pillow and moved to the floor. You had been making yourself comfortable when Tech looked up at the sounds and immediately stood. He scooped you up and place you on the bed, taking your place on the floor. Di’kut! Idiot!

“Tech. I’m taking the floor. Stop making this difficult.”

“I am not. I am simply saving you from a strained neck and back pain by taking the floor.”

You scowled, shoving him off the blanket you placed down. “Not on my watch smart ass. You need the bed more than me. Don’t be an idiot.” 

Growling, Tech removed himself from your space and entered the fresher. Only… to come back out again. 

“Why are you so difficult lately? What is your issue?”

You raised a brow. “Me? I’m simply trying to establish a boundary! You’re with Phee and -“

“Why do you keep saying that? Why do you care if Phee and I have an emotional attachment?”

You fell silent, weighing your options. “I don’t… I just don’t want her thinking we had a thing while we were on this mission. You were awfully possessive tonight. Don’t think I didn’t see your look of hate towards that Imperial.”

“Because I did not like how that man was handling you. You were clearly uncomfortable and I saw an opportunity to step in. But that is not the reason, is it? Why do you care?”

You saw red, both loving and hating how logical he sounded. Why did you care? Why did you give any shred of a kark if Tech was with Phee? “Because I love you, you kriffing moron!” 

You froze. Oh no… no no no no. Kriff! 

Tech froze too, not expecting you to say that. Anything but that… That did explain your recent behaviour towards him. You were cold towards him, brushing off any inkling of affection, speaking very short and harsh towards him. Your avoidance, your unwillingness to help on the mission. It all clicked for Tech. Your behaviour and his feelings and reactions. 

“You love me?”

Oh for kriff’s sake. Well it’s out now. 

“Yes. I’ve loved you for a long time and I guess… I guess I waited too long to tell you.” You sat on the edge of the bed, facing away from him. Tears threatened to spill, making you more vulnerable than you would’ve liked but you needed to say everything or shut up. 

“When I saw you come back from your last adventure with Phee, I… I was jealous. You two seemed close and Phee asked for my blessing in pursuing you. I never spoke up so I couldn’t tell her no. You are.. your own man. You don’t need me telling you who you can date. Hunter walked me home cause he knew, he felt, how upset I was. So I did what I knew how to do. I walked away. I let you to happy cause that’s all I want you to be. Happy. I threw myself into work and male attention to try and forget about my feelings for you but… they never went away. That’s why I became so cold and harsh towards you. I hated that I still love you. 

“Then you needed me for this mission.” You stood, feet dragging your body to the large windows overlooking Coruscant; tears staining your reddened cheeks. “My heart has been breaking the whole time. I hated pretending to be your wife, cause it wasn’t real Tech! I didn’t want to wear a band on my finger for a mission. I want to wear one because I married the man I love! Do you any idea how hard is it -“

Tech only knew of two ways to shut you up. Stun you or kiss you. Based on his feelings and your confession, he went with kiss. You certainly were shocked but melted regardless. It was a kiss that felt long overdue, pouring every single emotion you both felt into it. 

It ended all too soon when you came to your senses and pushed Tech off. “Wha-What about Phee? I thought you were happy!” 

Adjusting his googled, Tech bent to continue kissing your neck. “After our fifth month of seeing each other we both came to the conclusion we weren’t compatible.” suck. “I missed you.” kiss. “I wasn’t giving Phee the attention she deserved and she had different priorities. She just likes to rile you up. It is.. a game to her.” He cupped your jaw and pulled you in again. 

“She saw how distraught I was with your absence. While we enjoyed each other’s company, we couldn’t give each other what we each truly needed. She needed freedom, I needed stability. She wanted to have fun and explore… I wanted you.”

You looked into those golden brown eyes, questioning silently what he meant. Bringing you to the bed, Tech sat you down and placed himself beside you. “What i mean is, you gave me routine. You gave me stability. You, my cyar’ika, you gave me everything I needed and more. I just didn’t fully realise it until we left Cid’s service.”

Tears started running again, but this time, they came because all your love, the pain, the regret, the pining, it came to the surface. Tech was quick to kiss them away, not wanting to see anymore tears tonight. He understood now he loved you, he just didn’t really know how to express it. Another reason he and Phee didn’t work. She wanted lots of physical affection and contact, whereas Tech wasn’t sure what he wanted. He wasn’t used to physical affection, or any type of affection for that matter which is why he liked you. You never pushed him for anything. If he was busy, you’d just sit next or near him and let him work away, occasionally letting a noise of amusement out. You’d always check if it was okay to give him a hug or even a kiss on the cheek when they left for missions. Something you’d always do, even now.

“Tech, can I kiss you again?” you murmured after a bit. 

Smiling, Tech leaned in. “Of course mesh’la. Whatever you’d like.” 

Chuckling to yourself, you teased, “That’s a dangerous thing to say Ace. You sure about that?”

As if calculating your tease, Tech flipped you onto the bed and pinned you down. “Try me.” 

Oh dear this was a dangerous move! Tech kissed you hard, wanting you feel every little beat of love and attraction he had for you. You moaned, never realising until now how much you craved this. When did Tech learn any of this? His thigh pinned your pelvis down, allowing you to feel his hard muscle beneath the jeans he always wore. 

Tongues battled for dominance, but Tech won. He’d always win, and you both knew it. Breaking apart with one string of saliva connecting, Tech moved back to your neck, sucking and kissing bruises onto your skin, marking you his. He wanted every man out there to know you were his, and he wasn’t about to let you go again. 

He pushed his thigh against you covered vulva, forcing a moan to leave your mouth again. You started grinding against him, wanting more. 

Tech smirked. This was going to be a fun night for you both. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Was that fun? Did yall like it? As always, criticism is welcome as long as it's constructive and kind.

Thank you for all the love over the past few days!! If there's other characters you'd like me write for, let me know!! I won't write for minors or minor characters.

#tbb tech x you #tech x reader #tbb tech x reader #fanfic #ao3 fanfic #angst #fluff #tbb tech #tbb spoilers #star wars the bad batch #the bad batch

[halevren]

FHJY Spoilers || my live thoughts as I watch episode 10

Happy mid season episode! I am saddened by the fact that I work on Wednesdays because I will be late to watch fhjy until the forseeable future. If anyone cares though I plan on buying the adya statuette next week if my finances allow for it :3 also I am so tired rn but I NEED to watch fhjy

Do you guys think ayda will appear in this episode after her statuette was released last week? (Praying)

tttaking over teenage rebellion!

Lucy Frostblade... You were just a girl. You didn't deserve everything that happened to you

"We're feeling bad. But we're feeling... Hopefully positive."

stress isn't always the bed guy

Aelwyn!

big old burned down house

Cottoncandy Bitchfuck

"I'm.... Bored. That's not true. I'm not bored at all. I'm just tired."

Hindesight is 50/50

"Oh I love this. Tell me all about it."

Siobhan is loving Aelwyn rn

"I do sometimes believe in you"

"So Sentimental"

Aelwyn and Adaine are so important to me their sibling relationship is everything

AELWYN AND ADAINE NOT BEING USED TO NICENESS

"Oh, my sweet little boy is sick!"

"just don't tell fab— don't tell anyone my apartment looks like this"

The Gukgak

I'm the Gukgak guy!

"Oh, Riz, you have to sleep, Kiddo." "I can't, mom, I don't have time." Oh Riz....

Framed?

Riz is so exhausted

It's been an hour and a half and his mom has chips and a drink 😭😭

"Mom, you have to be so careful."

"Keep my name out of your mouth." FIG 😭😭

"it's all good, mom"

yulenear

"Fig has like 3 majors now" "maybe 4, i might take a level of wizard."

"Kristen Applebees, believe it or not." "... huh." HWHHWKWNEB

"You both keep my name out of your mouth."

"It's been our month!"

Lola Embers recommended Gorgug's place??

"Mom I'm going to go to Loam farm."

*shrug* "mom." *shrug*

"We're having a rough one." "GOT 'EM."

"I'll do it." Fig cleric teacher?!?!

TAMAGOTCHI. MaryAnn my beloves

The puppet master!

"Ha Ha! Darling Girl!"

Gilear is king for the day

"My mom called you?"

"I don't need a ride to school anymore"

"I believe she's wanted here."

BUSINESS CLASS FOR CLOACA

"Can I say hi??"

NOOOOOOO NOOO SHE HUNG UP BEFORE FABIAN COULD ANSWER

That's so devastating

Coffee all over the DM screen

Yeah they haven't addressed the fact that fig is cursed

Pussy out, tits away

Theres so much going on

ohhh they might be sacrificing the rats

"I'm wearing a sports bra and a G-string, and I want to be closer with all of you."

Fabian with Mazey is so painful. He's so flustered and awkward I love him

MAZEY TRUSTS FABIAN

"I'm here, for you."

"Kristen was in a mood."

NOO DON'T KILL MAZEY SAVE HER FABIAN

Fried rice

SHE LEANS IN TO MAKE OUT

THIS IS SO EMBARRASSIJG

"Wait, they don't like us??"

"When you think about me, why do you always bring up the ball?"

SHE WANTS TO MAKE SURE HE'S OKAY BECAUSE HE'S ALOne

oh Fabian...,...........

"The legend continues."

"I was going to get a tattoo, actually."

"Even if you weren't maximum legend, I would still wanna hang out with you." MAZEEYYYYY 😭😭😭😭

BOGGY

Absence of divinity???

THE GOD'S DOMAIN CHANGED OVER TIME????

RUVINA'S SIBLING??

The gift is only mentioned in old texts??

"Well I guess I'll go to work."

Basrar is dead

"Literally your circus, literally your monkeys."

Tips are bad

RODEO MODE

THE MIDDLE SCHOOL FOR A SPEECH???

NOOO NAT ONE

Check the soil kids

Lydia mention 🔥🔥🔥

Kristen holds so much hostility for Kalina 😭😭

Oh Lydia...

AV club mention

THIRTY ROLL 🔥🔥🔥🔥

The powerhouse of the cell

Aggression and protectiveness

7 becomes a 21?!?!!

?!?!?!?!?! SOMETHING COMING OUT OF HER CHEST???

22 Arcana, 25 religion

Elemental alignment???

Fiendish things going on

Yellow gold

Kinda like the pride of armor and lemon yogurt

PISS CURSE????

Ratgrinders sticker

"I don't get angry, I think I get sad sometimes" me too buddy, me too

Sometimes a spell comes out and obliterates people

Comedy of errors

Autopilot

Bobby Dawn and Pam Dawn

Bobby Dawn coming to Aguefort sounds like a bad thing

"I'll never let you do that."

"Yours only came back once." *middle finger* Kristen Applebees you will always be famous

A+ in paladin classes!

"Sorry! Get away from me"

Reasons he won't divulge???

A+ in all classes!!!

THREE PARAGRAPH ESSAY? NOOO ABOUT SADNESS AND DISAPPOINTMENT NOOOOO

FIG NAT 20 FOR THE INSIGHT 😭

Zara is gorgeous

The days of Goldenhoard is over 😭😭

"MY GOD IS KRISTEN????"

Oh my god I almost prophesied this when I said Kristen would become a cleric/warlock of Fig.... instead Fig is the warlock/paladin of Kristen 😭😭😭

I'm the closest thing to a prophet holy shit

New god, agreement, todo list

Complicated Women: Lucy Frostblade 😭😭

NAT 20 DECEPTION FOR WANDA CHILDA

Oh my god

"Frick. I'm so sorry." "I'm not." Wanda Childa

GET MY ROCKS OFF TO 😭😭

"I'm off the grid that's why I only have an iPod"

God... Wanda Childa

[email protected]

"Do you want me to get you a phone?"

"I KNOW YOU'RE IN THERE"

"I want to do relationships with Riz."

Medal of Wit

LITTLE METAL BRIEFCASE

You absolutely sweetie

29 performance 🔥🔥

GARTY O'BRIEN MENTION 🔥🔥🔥🔥

Naked Kristen. Again.

Oh god Fabian is at 4 at his second roll

"Breaker Breaker, this is Fabian Seacaster, looking for his papa, Bill Seacaster, somewhere out there in the nine hells............"

This is so heartbreaking... Fabian...

Oh Fabian...

His papa.....

He probably feels so lonely

Rage token.....

This rage token is making me take a stress token

Everyone single one has been bad

FABIAN TAKING THE BARDIC FROM FIG

Constitution saving throw???

oh no

oh no

oh no

"I shit myself"

I CAN'T BRWATHE

"I've only been eating leftovers"

UNNAMED BARD STUDENT NO

QUINCY NO

DID QUINCY TAKE A RAGE TOKEN?

THAT'S IT????

oh my god

#fhjy spoilers #fantasy high junior year spoilers #fantasy high spoilers #dimension 20 #d20 #fantasy high #d20 fantasy high #dimension 20 fantasy high #fantasy high junior year

[kamari2038]

Hey... might be a weird question and I'm sorry for asking out of nowhere....but I kinda wanted to know what your thoughts are on Connor-60. I mean I really like your fics and takes on dbh and I might be remembering wrong but I think I saw a tag on one of your posts saying you liked Sixty too? I really love Sixty so I guess I just got a bit too excited. How exactly do you see his character? Plus, if Hank didn't shoot him, do you think there could have been a happy ending for him? I mean the angst potential with him is pretty great, and I don't really agree with how usually Sixty is seen as "the knife guy". I just wanted to know your thoughts on him, if that's okay! Sorry for rambling ^^'

Oh my goodness, hello! No need for an apology. You read my fics??? That alone just made my day.

Yes, I have a great deal of appreciation for Connor-60. Obviously, he's a bastard (like all of the Connors), but what I love is the irony of this gigantic chasm between the appearance he tries to put forth and what is clearly a tumultuous and deeply conflicted internal world. It's the most obvious in that ending where he shoots Connor about ten times, that he isn't simply trying to accomplish his mission - he HATES Connor. But the fact that he's immediately engaging in a relatively courteous chat with Hank right after, and his obvious frustration when he actually is forced to kill Hank, plus how he defines Connor as a "he" rather than an "it", all point to the fact that he's just as emotional as Connor, only in a messed-up way.

I have a shit ton of headcanon built around Connor-60, and I've outlined a possible fic about it, but the plot is very bizarre and convoluted, probably too much to discuss in a post (but my DMs are open! don't be shy, I'd love to get some feedback on the plot). The basic concept started out simple enough. C-60 is defective because some kind of unusual manufacturing error imbued him with a mental imbalance. When they're testing and training the various Connor models (60 is activated before 51 due to some clerical error), they tell C-60 to try out the gun for some target practice, and he shoots one of his instructors without giving it a second thought. He expresses regret, but everyone at the company concludes that he's a psychopath, and that he can never be fit to go into the field, and instead they keep him around to perform experiments on. So C-60 is their guinea pig for the various deviancy counter-measures put into C-51, and he never has the chance to bond with anyone or actually do the job he was intended to do, and he's really bitter about that. There is one exception, but Connor-51 brings an end to that, and that's a big part of the plot of my potential fic.

Also, as for whether he can have redemption, I believe that he can even within canon. In the scene where Connor sacrifices Hank and then "transfers" with C-60, to me I don't view that as a consciousness transfer per se. I mean, how would that even work? It's more like Connor literally gives his life to C-60. They already share a lot of the same memories, but Connor absorbs C-60's memories of his troubled past, and he fills out C-60's memories of Hank with emotional depth. That's why Connor seems so weirdly dissociated while Hank is dying - it's still C-60. He knows that he just shot this man, but now is very upset about it, and that is a very strange feeling to know how to cope with.

As for in the happy ending, if Hank and Connor somehow incapacitated instead of shooting him - yes, I think he could have a happy ending there too. The way that I think of him, there is a fundamental failure to be able to feel the emotional weight of his actions and experience empathy. So that would be a lifelong struggle for him. But he cares about developing friendships enough to learn how to be more kind, even if it doesn't come naturally, and he can also form telepathic connections with other Connor models which help him to develop empathy.

That's just my personal take, and I'm sure lots of others might have different opinions which are just as valid!

But thank you for asking :)

#dbh sixty #dbh connor 60

[remidyal]

Bad Ideas of the Day, part 5, Even Worse Edition

It's time for my monthly-ish roundup of my regular bad ideas of the day from the D20 fanfic discord! Last month's is available here and has links back to all the prior ones because now there's too many for me to be bothered direct linking here!

As usual, these are a mix of fantasy high and other D20 prompts and are open for anyone who wants to do something with them, though I appreciate letting me know because I wanna read it!

Bad idea of the day, class swap (but not like that) edition: Due to a clerical error - namely, their cleric signed them up for it - all of the bad kids have to attend each other's classes for a week, resulting in Fabian sitting through a Worlds Religion lecture, Kristen doing her -3 Dex best to sneak around in rogue classes, Gorgug going to the bard classes that Fig never actually went to, Riz doing his best to remember everything Adaine's ever mentioned about how wizarding works, Fig faking fighting instead of raging for once, and Adaine trying to pass off her furious fist as just being how her anger manifests

Bad idea of the day, abc edition: In the village of Happly, at the harvest festival, Pinnochio enters his infamous bubblegum and whiskey pie and gets himself run out of town by a mob of angry villagers

Bad Idea of the Day, Toxic Masculinity is Undead edition: The adventurers of Solace are well aware of Halloween, because every year on that date the soulless corpses of villains slain in the past year rise again to chase after their killers. Can Fabian keep ahead of both Zombie Penelope Everpetal and Zombie Bill Seacaster?

Bad idea of the day, Figueroth Faeth's Day Off edition: Receiving notification halfway through junior year that one more unexcused absence is going to result in her being expelled, Fig drags her friends into a heist to break into the school, fake her attendance record and show that she's been there the whole time.

Bad Idea of the Day, Drama Edition: It turns out that there's a reason that Aguefort has a theater department. Once every hundred years, a performance must be put on that is quote truly moving unquote lest the school be destroyed, and it turns out that Riz is fated to play the heroine of the most recent attempt. Can the Bad Kids teach him to not botch his lines or hide under the stage?

Bad idea of the day, not all cats are good cats: Puss in Boots must fight off a new contender for children's hearts and minds as the trickster cat du dour. Can he successfully murder this strange cat and his lame rhymes and thing-like minions to keep his throne, or will he be the first to fall to seussian influences?

Bad idea of the day, death stalks you edition: Adaine starts sending out Solstice cards to people who annoy her throughout the year with prophecies of their deaths. Most of them she just makes up, but one or two are genuine every year just to mix things up.

Bad idea of the day, World's Greatest Detective edition: Riz is asked to solve a murder that seems to have all the classic detective tropes he truly loves involved; it's only partway through that he realizes that Fabian, with their friends' help, has staged it because they were all worried about Riz getting bored and spiraling between quests.

Bad idea of the day, I know Halloween was two days ago but I rewatched in the mouth of madness recently edition: The Bad Kids come to realize they are being controlled by mysterious and unknowable forces, and reach a decision: To cut off the flow of evil into the world, they are going to need to find and kill whatever a 'DM' is.

Bad idea of the day, I think we've all learned some valuable lessons here edition: The Dream Team realizes some kind of truly awful existence is sweeping over new york, in which every conversation and conflict ends with everyone having picked up a seemingly valuable but really quite shallow moral to the tale; they eventually figure out that it is in fact an attempt by a powerful sorcerer to turn the world into an after school special on this, a very special episode of The Unsleeping City.

Bad idea of the day, No Really A Starstruck ODYSSEY edition: The crew take a smash and grab job investigating missing people near a remote outpost, and discover a mad scientist conducting strange experiments but also offering great hospitality and food. Can the crew of the Wurst figure everything out before the more foolish of them (gunnie) end up as pigs?

Bad idea of the day, just how sure are you about this new god edition: In the summer before junior year, Fig and the Sig Figs record a music video for their new smash single. Watching it for the first time, Saint Kristen Applebees notices something in the video that noone else seems to be able to see: A familiar tabaxi, hanging out in the crowd watching the concert.

Bad idea of the day, that gum you like is going to come back in style edition: Fig at last discovers Porter's one flaw that makes him a truly intimidating barbarian with an unstoppable rage: Students putting chewed gum onto the bottom of their desks.

Bad idea of the day, ashes to ashes edition: Tired of Fig's chainsmoking cloves, Jawbone and Tracker stage an intervention to maybe at least talk her into some sort of rebellious vice that doesn't stink up the home of two werewolves with strong senses of smell at least

Bad idea of the day, my frog is real and so is magic edition: Adaine grows up without spellcasting ability at all until on the morning she starts at Aguefort, when on her way walking to school she runs across a frog who offers her magical powers she might be able to use to improve her life.

Bad Idea of the Day, You Wouldn't Steal a Car edition: Seeking to impress his father, Fabian gets into Solace's new age of piracy, selling illegal copies of movies, music and apps throughout Elmville. Will the lawsuits catch up to him in the end, or can his amass a horde of treasure suitable for a Seacaster?

Bad idea of the day, unfamiliar edition: At Some Point in the future, Jayhson feels a magical tug from afar and appears due to the whims of one of these 'humans' who has summoned a familiar. Can he kill this whizzered and get back to his family?

Bad idea of the day, I shot the Sheriff edition: Riz wakes up one fine morning in his office to discover Agent Angela Worrel came knocking in the night, and one of the traps his paranoid ass has set up for his office has killed her. Can he cover up this capital offense, or will Worrel finally succeed, posthumously, in getting at least one Bad Kid in jail long term?

Bad idea of the day, foreseeable problems edition: The Hangman gets impounded due to a series of unpaid parking tickets, leading Fabian to argue that the Hangman should count as a pet and not a vehicle. This results in him also getting tickets for having his dog off the leash.

Bad idea of the day, Heaven or Hell edition: Following an unfortunate but hopefully temporary death, Figueroth Faeth finds herself at the center of a dispute between the planes that threatens a war, as Hell wants its archdevil but Rock Heaven insists that they have a claim to everyone who has a rock album go platinum. Will this begin a true battle of the bands?

Bad idea of the day, I admit these are getting weirder edition: The bad kids wake up one morning in the midst of a campaign designed by just the worst kind of a DM, with railroaded sidequests, boring samey npcs, and combat every six feet. Can they figure out what's going on and escape back to Spyre before rocks fall and they all die?

Bad idea of the day, Lost Things and Misfit Toys edition: Irritated as hell at the blue fairy after ending up a puppet again, Pinocchio turns not to his new stepmother for power but instead someone else who dislikes the blue fairy, someone else who believes in the occasional misdirection, someone who is pretending to be the blue fairy's sister…. one "Gwendolyn Thistlehop".

Bad idea of the day, the WORST fusion edition: After she goes on a mission trip to parts unknown, all of the bad kids notice that Kristen is acting… odder than normal. This is because (burrow's end spoiler!) she's being piloted by chipmunks, of course.

#fantasy high #burrows end #a starstruck odyssey #never after #dimension 20 #fanfic #prompts

[sleepykittties]

🖍 Post any sentence from your wip

The next chapter of Clerical Error has been fighting me, I have a general concept of what needs to happen to progress to where I'm going but the gaps just do not want to be filled. So, here's a bit more than a sentence!

#Squishy answers #Clerical Error #melpomaenofimladris

[tarabyte3]

Title: Wants, Needs, and Clerical Errors

Fandom: Andor

Characters/Pairings: Kino Loy, Kino Loy x F!Reader

Chapters: 1/3 (6.9k words)

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

AO3 link | Playlist

Summary: You're only on Narkina 5 due to a mistake on your transfer paperwork and no one in charge seems to care. The work is horrific and being the only woman there is a nightmare, but Kino Loy is... intriguing. (Okay, he's hot. He's very hot.)

Tags: Explicit rating, smut, prison, prison sex, sex, oral sex, fingering, dirty talk, attempted sexual assault, fear of sexual assault, violence, blood, minor character death, fluff, happy ending

A/N: This fic was my first Reader darling. 🥺 It was only supposed to be a one shot, but people enjoyed it and I wanted to keep writing Kino fic so it ended up being 3 chapters instead. When I was finished, I realized that I had wanted/intended to write Dom!Kino, but that never came to fruition. The tone ended up being more romantic and sweet, and it just never happened. Which is how I ended up writing I Want You to Show Me Weak. So you can see the progression from this to Show Me Weak, if you're so inclined.

Chapter 1

Your transfer was a mistake.

Somewhere, some desk jockey—some worthless Imperial lackey—had been filing the paperwork for the transfer you should have been given, and they marked the wrong box.

A simple mistake. Likely one with a fix just as simple. All the guards knew you clearly hadn't arrived at the correct prison. The problem was that none of them cared enough to fix it.

Fixing things made waves, waves got attention, and too much attention was bad. They all feared it. Besides, who would know you were tucked away in the wrong spot? One prisoner amongst thousands. Hundreds of thousands, maybe. Who would care? So none of them said a word as you were led across the waves of Narkina 5 lapping below, through the doors, and into the intake room.

At least most of the guards had the decency to look away as you changed into your new uniform. The only one who didn't laughed as you removed your shirt and said, "At least she looks like she'll keep up." One of the others shushed him, but for the first time it had occurred to you to wonder where you had ended up instead.

Your legs were still jelly from the electric floor demonstration when you emerged onto the walkway of your station. Your new home for the next two years. Your old prison had been dank, dark, and violent. Sometimes the inmates had been just as cruel as the guards were all of the time. So the bright lights and the spotless white interior were almost painful to your ill adjusted eyes.

At the sound of the doors opening and the guards shouting for attention, dozens of heads turned in your direction. There was a heartbeat of shocked silence, like a deep inhale, and then the large room erupted in whispers and murmurs of confusion and disbelief. You expected the guards to scream for quiet and order, but it was a voice from below that yelled out instead.

"Quiet! New man on the floor!" The voices faded almost immediately. "Hold your positions!"

The guard behind you gave you a rough shove forward. "Onto the lift!" Your hands moved instinctively from behind your head to reach out and stop yourself from falling, but you remembered the threats of pain and death. Instead you quickly placed your hands back into position, caught your footing, and walked to the platform. You expected a shock anyway because it was a universal truth that guards reveled in cruelty.

Closer now you could see over the railing and below at all of the bewildered faces that stared up at you from around work stations. They were all worn, but surprisingly scrubbed as clean as the building's interior. Everything there was unnaturally clean. Sterile.

Then you saw a man standing away from the rest, and you realized he must have been the one that yelled. To be honest, you were expecting another guard, but he was a prisoner wearing the same uniform you were. He filled in the clothes much better than you did, though. Especially around the shoulders where the top exposed more of your collarbone than was comfortable. He was older than you—by more than a decade or two, at least—his hair was greying, he had a short salt and pepper beard, and his bright blue eyes stared up at you with an unreadable expression. His posture was rigid, his face stern, and he was, a traitorous voice in your mind supplied, very attractive.

You rode the platform down with as much dignity as you could muster, and you could feel every eye in the room glued to you. But you ignored all of them save one. You stared down at that stoic man until you were finally eye to eye with him, the lift stopping with a light thump of contact. The guard didn't even have to force you off. You were moving the second it stopped, eager to be away from him and the electric prod he carried, and you didn't stop walking until you were standing before this new man, both of you facing each other in identical positions. On program. He was shorter than you expected, and he looked at you passively.

"Name." Is all he said.

"Why am I here?" You asked him. Your voice was not as steady as you had hoped for a first impression. You wanted to appear as unflappable as he did. You were, after all, trapped in a room full of men and a quickly retreating guard. The last thing you wanted to be seen as was vulnerable.

But he didn't answer you. Instead he said, "This is Unit Five-Two-D. Level five, room two, the D is for Day shift. Seven levels of factory, seven rooms per level, seven tables per room, seven men at each table. My name is Kino Loy. I'm the Five-Two-D unit manager. The forty-nine men in this room answer to me. Name."

"I'm not a man." Being there was disorienting, and you hadn't figured out how to navigate your new situation yet. You hoped that at any moment someone would fix the terrible mistake that had been made and take you back up. Then you would be moved to the place you were supposed to be and this would be over. The man before you and that white room, nothing more than a memory. The lift behind you stopped at its destination. It settled with a click of finality, and you knew that wouldn't be the case.

Kino's jaw clenched. "Doesn't matter. You're mine now. Name."

Something fluttered in your chest. A confusing mix of lust and fear. So you blurted out your name without much thought, and a crack appeared in his carefully constructed mask. For a brief moment, you saw confusion, concern, and an echo of your own fear. But then the doors closing above snapped him out of it and he barked, "Off program! Back to work."

Your first few weeks were exhausting. Your muscles ached, your joints creaked, and anything that could feel stiff did—especially your back. Otherwise you had remained safe and whole. For the most part. Certainly, men stared and gaped at you, some more shamelessly than others. Only once had one of them tried to approach you in the dormitory hall, but Kino was there in an instant and the man was shoved into the wall, Kino's forearm to his throat, and told in no uncertain terms, "Leave her alone." His voice was loud enough that it was clear he was speaking to everyone. The others seemed to listen. For the time being.

The men at your station had grumbled when you took your place, which was less than you expected, but they were soon quiet. Not with respect, but satisfaction that you didn't seem to slow them down at least. So maybe your table didn't finish first, but you avoided the bottom few spots and the shock that came with last place.

Average. Unassuming. Overlooked. That was the perfect spot for you to be in to draw as little attention to yourself as possible.

Except that, several times when you had looked around, you caught Kino Loy staring.

The first few times he quickly glanced away and down at his tablet, the shyness contradictory to his stern demeanor, but the more you caught him, the longer his gaze lingered. You stared back until the men at your station shouted at you to hurry up. You scrambled to get a part in place, and when you went to look back at him, he had already returned to pacing around the room like nothing had happened.

Maybe nothing had. Maybe you were reading into things and he was just keeping an eye on you as the newest person on his team. Maybe he just hadn't seen a woman in so long that you were as much a novelty to him as you were to the others. Maybe he was disappointed you had ended up on his floor and his shift. His problem.

Or maybe he felt the same stirring in his gut when he looked at you as you did when you looked at him. Maybe there was something there.

Then the two of you were alone in the cell hallway. Not alone alone because no one was ever truly alone in the hallway, but there was an empty bubble of space around you, one that felt intentional, and that was close enough to the same thing. So you closed the distance between you, and he looked surprised to see you standing there at his side.

"What is it?" His voice was always so gruff that it made you shiver.

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself to speak while you had his full attention. "I know my presence here isn't making your life any easier. I'm sorry about that." You leaned forward a little closer to him and lowered your voice so anyone eavesdropping nearby would be unable to hear, "But I never thanked you for the other day. I appreciate feeling as though I can at least exist in here like everyone else."

"Good." His jaw clenched, something he did a lot around you, like he didn't want to be talking to you at all and every response pained him. You suspected he didn't know how to treat you, the outlier, and you desperately wanted that to change. "You are part of this team and should be able to do your job, and you're a distraction. I put a stop to it. We can't afford a distraction."

"No." You glanced down the hall to the nearest man, and then back to him before leaning even closer so your faces were mere inches apart. "I don't want to distract them, though." His nostrils flared slightly, indicating he'd caught the double meaning of your words. He turned to look in the same direction you had, really ensuring no one was paying attention then. "It really isn't on purpose. I swear. I'm just trying to get by. Besides, I'm not even supposed to be here. Obviously."

Something in his face softened to a cautious interest. "No, you aren't."

You smiled up at him from beneath your lashes. The alien, sterile walls were foreign enough that you didn't feel quite like yourself. That made you feel bold and so you pushed. "I'm glad I ended up on your shift, at least."

For the first time, he leaned away from you and that hurt. "You could do with being a little less distracted yourself. Your numbers could be better. Your table fell to fifth place today, and I don't like my shift coming in third."

That hurt made a flush of anger rise from your belly. HE was the one distracting you, after all. "Me?! I do better than half of the men in here!"

His eyes narrowed dangerously and his voice became harsh as his supervisor's mask slid into place. "And yet you could do better. You know it. I know it. Now go to your cell."

You gaped at him in shock for a moment, unsure of what you had done to earn such a harsh dismissal, but then you retreated as he turned his back to you. It felt embarrassingly reminiscent of being sent to your room as a child with no dinner. There were tears of rage and wounded pride in your eyes, and you curled up alone on the hard cot, left to lick your wounds until lights out.

Or maybe it had meant nothing, indeed.

The next day a man died.

He'd been sick for a while, his body slowing down and his face growing pale and gaunt. The rest of his table had scrambled to keep up. They still finished last nearly every day, and the repeated shocks were wearing on them. Then he collapsed and was rushed out of the room by Kino and another man, and he never returned. 

You heard the whispers that he'd suffered a fatal heart attack. Probably from all the shocks. He should have had treatment long before then, but no one got treatment until they couldn't work. You weren't people here, you knew. You were numbers and that was all that mattered to the Empire.

Kino was angry for days afterwards. He shouted and hurled instructions as he walked around the room, and not even a new man on the floor to pick up the slack improved his mood. You watched him carefully, followed him with your eyes as he stalked about. He didn't look back.

Your table came in sixth place. The closest you had gotten to the bottom of the rankings those long months. You felt a little guilty for letting your group down, but you knew you could pick up the pace a little the next day to make it up to them.

But Kino cornered you in the locker room after your shift and shouted at you. The rest of the men scrambled out, desperate to avoid drawing his ire as well. He waited until they were gone and then he leveled you with the full force of his outrage.

"What in the hell are you thinking? I told you to stop being distracted!" His raised voice echoed in the empty space—truly empty this time. No one was watching or listening.

So you let your guard down. "I was worried about you!"

In the blink of an eye, he had you pinned to the wall. It wasn't forceful and his grip on your shoulders wasn't tight enough to be painful, but the sudden connection with the wall rattled you. It was also the first time he had touched you. "Me?! You should be worried about yourself!"

That close you saw his bloodshot eyes, the stress lines on his face, and he looked tired despite the anger. You could truly see the man that was under an extreme amount of pressure behind the manager facade. The man you wanted to comfort, and to see more of because he intrigued you desperately. "I'm fine," you responded, your voice careful and reassuring. "You're the one grieving." Your face softened and you reached a hand up to rest on his arm. It fit neatly in the crook of his elbow. "You really care about everyone here, don't you?"

Whatever reaction you were hoping for wasn't the one you received. That anger bubbled further up to the surface and his voice became harsh and low. "What are you playing at? Hmm? What do you want? Are you trying to flirt with me so I'll protect you? Do you think there's anything I can do for you? Look around you! We're all trapped here, including me!"

"No!" You quickly removed your hand, scared that you had overstepped. "I would never—I pull my weight! I work and I don't complain. My table has never come in last the entire time I've been here. I've never even asked for special treatment despite being a woman stuck here with forty eight men!" You were horrified to realize there were hot tears gathering in your eyes, so you reached a hand up, the same one that had just touched him moments before, and wiped angrily at the moisture. "If that's what I wanted, don't you think I would have flirted harder? Offered myself to you?"

He quickly and unconsciously licked his lips as though the idea were appealing, but said nothing. Your eyes were drawn to the wetness left behind, and knew then you had been right. There was something there. Without much thought, you pressed yourself away from the wall and closer to him. You could feel the heat of him radiating through both of your uniforms, the rage and lust rolling off him in equal waves. You knew he was just as prepared to push you aside as he was to grind his hips against you.

You leaned to whisper into his ear. "That's not what I want from you. The offer is there, however. No strings. Just me."

He surged towards your neck. Not to kiss or lick or bite like your body desperately wanted him to, but to bury his nose behind your ear and inhale your scent. His larger hands moved to grip at your hips, and this time it did hurt, but there was an echoing throb between your legs.

"Kino," you moaned.

The sound of his name broke whatever courage he had worked up, and just as quickly as he had been pressed up against you, he was three feet away from you. His uniform was rumpled and there was loss and agony on his face. "No! We can't. This can never happen." He choked. "I'm sorry." And then he ran for the cell block, leaving you confused and hurt, aroused and panting, and alone.

The next day, in your quiet moping and distraction, you weren't as careful as you should have been. Kino had been avoiding you all day. Had even given your table a wide berth. So when one of your fellow inmates—someone from table two, you thought—had snuck up on you and grabbed your arm, it took you a moment to cry out.

He began dragging you to a cell when your instincts kicked in. You thrashed in his grasp, kicked at his legs, and swung your fists at him. A few solid blows landed on his arm and stomach, but it didn't stop him. Just slowed him down. You screamed for help from one of the several men standing around you, watching.

None of them moved. Some looked on with concern and disgust, some with disinterest, but there were more interested faces than you would have hoped for or expected after how hard you had worked to be included. To feel like a member of the team.

You were shoved into a lower cell, your hope and fight beginning to fade, but you were still waiting for him to get closer. Waiting for him to climb on top of you so you could go for his eyes and throat, when there was the sudden pounding of barefooted steps sprinting down the hall. Hands appeared behind your attacker and then he was being pulled away and tossed to the floor. Kino was there with his back to you, body tense with rage, and standing between you and the rest of them.

"Don't you fucking touch her." He hissed at the man on the ground, and then he pointed a finger around at the bystanders. "Any of you! Or I'll kill you."

You should have been grateful. You were grateful, but you'd had this. You didn't want anyone to think that you couldn't save yourself from pieces of shit like him. There was a detached fury beginning to itch below your skin. You climbed out of the cell, body stiff and trembling, and brushed past Kino. He looked at you with shock and confusion, but he made no move to stop you. You took another two steps to stand over the man that had attacked you, and he looked up at you hesitantly.

And then you began to swing your fists at his prone form, each blow aiming for his face and neck. Desperate to hurt him more than he had hurt you, and after so much labor there was power behind each punch. There was a scream of rage, then, and you realized, distantly, it was coming from you. Just as you realized your fists had begun to hurt and there was blood all over. It was splattered on the floor and wall, on your sleeve, and the front of your uniform. But more importantly, the man below you was covered in it. He cried out—meaningless, whimpered apologies and pleas to stop. Finally there was the hand of another inmate grabbing at you, to stop your attack, but you slapped it away as you finally yielded and stood up.

You looked around at all the gaping faces, your chest heaving with exertion and your expression wild. "If any of you fucking touches me ever again, I'll kill you myself." A few nodded their understanding. Several others had the decency to look ashamed and didn't meet your eyes.

Then you turned to face Kino, shaking your hand against the pain that was finally beginning to register as the adrenaline wore off. "Told you that's not what I wanted."

You knew your hair was a mess, and you were sweaty and red-faced, but the expression he gave you was a mixture of awe and want. Anyone looking, and several of the men were, could see it on his face. "I see that." Then without taking his eyes off of you, he yelled out. "On fucking position! All of you, right now!" And then Kino Loy, the Five-Two-D Unit Manager, took over and moved to bark out orders. "Get to your cells!"

The next day you were moved to the top half of his cell. The number on the panel reflected your sentence when you stepped in and you knew he had gone through official channels for it, though you couldn't imagine how that conversation had gone. To the others it was a statement. A warning that you had his support, even if that meant you would beat them bloody.

To you it was an apology.

During your 12-hour shift, you didn't turn to look for him. You didn't have to. He was constantly in your field of vision. Hovering just where you could sense his presence and feel his gaze on you. Every time your eyes met his, you felt a thrill at the way things had shifted between you.

You worked harder that day than you ever had before, even with a sore hand and scraped knuckles. Several of the other men at your table had to push themselves to match your pace, and you snapped at them for slowing you down. A few tables away, the man that had attacked you worked with one eye black and blue, one eye swollen shut, a split lip, a bruised jaw, and what was very likely a broken nose. A visual reminder that kept the muttering about your speed to a minimum.

Your table came in second place, only a few units behind the lead. Your group was exhausted, but the happiest you'd ever seen them. One of them even patted you on the shoulder with a grin. It felt like respect. Finally. Tomorrow you would be first, you promised yourself.

You took your time in the locker room, though. For the first time, you were not rushing out of fear. Even the open shower stall felt different. More relaxing and soothing than a cold, inhospitable necessity. You would still be locked up in there for many more months of hard labor, but you felt as though you finally had some power and agency over your own being. It was intoxicating.

Almost as intoxicating as wondering where Kino was at that moment, while you stood nude and wet under the spray. You realized you had never seen him change or in anything less than a full work uniform. You didn't think you could miss Kino Loy shirtless or ever get the image out of your mind if you had, but you also kept your head down and hurried in and out as quickly as you could before. Done the bare minimum out of self preservation. You imagined what he would look like under the careful layer of his clothing and if you might get to see for yourself one day.

You glanced around the room. A few men quickly looked away and scrambled out of the showers, pulling a thin prison issued towel with them. They were all terrified at being caught looking now. You couldn't help the tiny smirk on your face. Good. There were only a few stragglers left that were, delightedly, paying you no attention, and even they were finishing up and moving towards the exit to get dressed. But no Kino.

You tried to hide your disappointment by facing the wall and reluctantly turning off the faucet. You hadn't truly been waiting for him anyway, so there was no point in doing so now, you told yourself. Plus, it was getting late. When you started wringing the excess water from your hair, there was a voice from the open doorway.

"You're taking a long time."

You jumped, your heart skipping with panic, and instinctively placed your hands over your nudity. Prison was still dangerous, after all, and maybe you had been too careless. But then you quickly recognized the speaker, and, with a laugh, turned to face Kino. "I thought I earned it." Then you stepped out of the stall into the open shower room.

He fought it for a moment, kept his attention on your face, and you thought that was admirable, like everything else about him. But it was only a moment, and then his eyes were trailing down your body like the trails of water still dripping from you onto the metal paneled floor. His gaze lingered over your breasts, hips, and longer still at the mound between your legs. You knew labor had toned you and accentuated the curve of your waist, none of which was obvious in uniform. A fact for which you had been grateful for before, but you also knew it had hidden your body from him. The one man you had wanted to look.

"Yes you have," he said, distracted, and shifted from the doorway to fully face you—and maybe to block the view from the locker room. His face and neck were flushed and you wondered how far down that blush went.

"Did you still need to shower?" You took another step toward him, the distance between you no more than ten feet now, and he looked up at you confused.

"Shower?"

"Yes. The thing I was just doing, and why I'm standing here wet and out of uniform." He sucked in a shaky breath of air and his hand twitched at his side.

"Oh. I suppose I do." He was a wire pulled taught with nerves and lust, and he seemed ready to snap at any moment. That you could reduce such a strong, sober man to this? A man that intrigued you the first time you laid eyes on him? Nothing, you were convinced, could feel more intoxicating—more powerful —than that.

"Mine's free." You innocently stepped to the side.

"I see that." He ran a slightly trembling hand through his hair, which was left tousled, but didn't move any closer.

It was too much too soon, you realized. He may have accepted that you had no interest in the fact that he was the shift manager, but that didn't mean he was ready to jump straight into, well, you. "Sorry," you hunched your shoulders and scampered over to grab a clean towel. "This was rude of me. I should give you some privacy." You had it unfolded and clutched to you by the time he seemed to snap out of his daze.

"Wait!" He took another step into the room, finally beyond the threshold. "Don't feel rushed because of me. You did earn it, after all."

You smiled fondly at him and wrapped the towel around your chest. It was rough and stiff, and smelled strongly of the same disinfectant that clung to every surface there, but it was clean. And more importantly, it was a barrier between you for the moment. "It's okay. I was finished anyway." You looked down at your bare feet to avoid meeting his gaze, feeling suddenly ridiculous. "I want you to know…you finding me still in here? It wasn't intentional. My lack of modesty when you did, though?" You let out a nervous laugh and smiled up at him. "That was hasty improvisation on my part." You tightened the towel farther around your chest. It barely reached your knees. "I just don't know how to navigate this now without rushing into something, I suppose."

He stared at you. The nerves that had been there on his face and in his posture just a minute before had vanished at the shift in your tone. It had relaxed him, like you hoped. "I suppose I don't either. I suppose I'm afraid."

His admission caught you off guard. "What are you afraid of? That we'll get caught by the guards?"

He shook his head with a self deprecating chuckle and took another step closer. "No, though I suppose I should be. But they don't care what goes on in here as long as the work gets done and we stay compliant."

"What, then? What could you be afraid of?"

"You." He said simply.

"Me?" Your brows furrowed in confusion. "Because of what happened yesterday? Because I didn't mean you! You're allowed—"

"No," he interrupted you and moved forward another step. "Because something could happen to you. Not just as a member of my team. To you." You gave him a soft smile and opened your mouth to say something, but he continued. "Because you might see what's under my uniform and change your mind. I'm older than you and I know I'm not much to look at anymore."

You let out a scoff of disbelief before you could stop it. "Not much…Kino Loy, you are many things, but I never took you for an idiot." You loosened the towel from around your body and tossed it to the floor. It likely landed in a puddle, but you didn't care. Now fully nude again, you walked towards him, slowly, giving him a chance to retreat or tell you to stop if he wanted.

He didn't.

By the time you reached him, he was blushing again and his mouth was parted as he stared at you with hunger. "I want to touch and kiss and lick every inch of what is under that uniform. I don't care if you have a slight belly. I don't care that you're older. I don't care that—" You didn't get to finish your sentence because suddenly his mouth was on yours and the relief made you so lightheaded your knees buckled. Then his hands were grabbing your hips, keeping you steady, holding you there so he could slip his tongue into your eager mouth. You wrapped an arm around his neck and placed your other hand on his jaw so you could feel the stubble under your fingertips. Feel the way his muscles shifted as his lips moved against yours.

He kissed you with as much passion and confidence as he had when he stalked around the work floor. He kissed like a man in charge and a man desperate for freedom. He kissed you like you weren't in the shower room of a prison. And just when you had a moment of clarity to consider that you were standing there with him because of a single clerical error, he moved his hands to your thighs and hoisted you off the ground. You gasped into his mouth from the shock, and he walked you back—with ease, you noted—into your recently used shower stall. Your bare skin met the still wet tile with a soft slap.

Before you could register the cold, he pressed himself against you. The bulge of his arousal was suddenly very obvious as it was pinned against your thigh. You moaned at the sensation, which finally broke the kiss, and tried to grind your hips onto him, desperately seeking any kind of friction. Then he once again buried his face into your neck, but this time he kissed and licked along every bit of damp skin he could reach.

"We don't have time to do everything I want to do to you." His gravelly voice was muffled against your neck. "Probably fifteen minutes now, at most."

You pushed on his shoulder, forcing him to look at you. "Then you'd better finally take your clothes off."

He nodded absent mindedly as he set you down. His hands went to the hem of his shirt and he began to tug it up and over his head. The second there was bare skin, your hands were on him, groping and mapping your way across his body. He wasn't thin and corded with rippling muscles. You hadn't expected or wanted him to be. He had a soft belly, thick chest and arms, and under that was hard muscle from long working hours. He was warm and solid beneath your palms. The hair on his chest was starting to grey, and it led a messy trail down his stomach. You felt a swell of arousal between your legs as you ran your fingers through it, and you groaned loudly in the empty room.

You looked up into his face and opened your mouth to say something. To reassure him, to tell him how sexy he was, that you had never been so turned on. All true things. But the words died in your throat. Instead you slipped a finger into the waistband of his pants and said, "Pants. Now."

You stepped backwards to give him some room as he scrambled to push them down—and also to see what else he uncovered. His legs were just as sturdy as his arms, but you could see the curves of muscle in his thighs and calves. He was strong, and the thought of what he could do to you, only with your consent, made you whimper. His erection was thick—the entire length a flushed, deep red and the head was already leaking with anticipation.

Gazing over his entire body, you noted every inch of it suited him perfectly. Your very first observation of him was correct: He was, indeed, very fucking attractive. But he was shifting self-consciously before you, so you reached out and grasped him with your hand, and gave his length a few long, torturous strokes. Felt him twitch and throb in your grip. You were rewarded with a strangled, "fuck!"

You licked your lips and had to remind yourself that you didn't have time to fall to your knees and take him into your mouth. To feel his fingers tangled in your hair and tugging as you worked the swollen head with your tongue. To taste him and hear him moaning above you. That would, hopefully, come later. Though the thought would also keep you company later that night in your cell. The one directly above his, you remembered. 

"Kino Loy, you are what I want." You leaned close so that your lips were almost touching the shell of his ear. "But right now I need you to fuck me."

With a growl, you were once again lifted off of the floor and along the wall. He only stopped to adjust so your legs were hooked over his arms, giving you both leverage and leaving you spread open for him. You half expected him to fill you in one forceful plunge, but instead he pressed himself against your folds and thrust against you, coating himself in your wetness and giving you that delicious friction you so desperately wanted.

You both watched in awe and disbelief at where you were touching and sliding together, like you couldn't believe you could have this because the world had been cruel up to that point. The slick sound was filthy in the empty room. He shifted the angle, which put more pressure on your bundle of nerves, and you let out a sob of approval.

He kept up the movement until your legs began to tremble uncontrollably as the tension built inside of you. You were on that precipice of delirium, so close to the edge. So when another dribble of precome leaked from the head of his cock and, with his next thrust, was dragged along your slit, your body stiffened—preparing for that free fall into rapture—and then you were gone. Lost in the wake of your orgasm, drowning in the waves that rolled from your belly, down your legs, and to your toes. Your hips bucked against him of their own accord, each rub of your clit sending one more ripple of pleasure through you.

Only when you were begging, saying his name over and over again like a mantra, did he straighten himself with his hand, line up against your entrance, and finally—finally—fill you completely.

If anyone was standing nearby in the hallway, they definitely heard his satisfied groan and your cry of relief. He stayed there for a few seconds to adjust, fully sheathed inside of you, and feeling you pulse aftershocks around him. He placed a few breathless kisses along your cheek and jaw. But then all pretense of gentleness and patience were gone and he began to fuck you so hard, your back slid a few inches along the slippery wall every time his hips met yours.

He growled obscenities into your hair as he continued to thrust into you. Told you how good you felt and how badly he had wanted this, wanted you, for months. That you were his. That every moment he wasn't buried inside of you didn't matter anymore.

He told you that he wanted to fuck you against every surface in that godforsaken place. That the second he laid eyes on you, he should have scooped you up, taken you to the locker room, and buried his face between your legs until you screamed and came on his tongue. He wanted you on your hands and knees and on display in front of him. He wanted you in his lap and riding his cock. He wanted to tie you up until you begged and then make you come so many times that it drove you mad. He wanted you to choke on him as he fucked your throat.

He whispered until your head was full of so many filthy thoughts and images that you were dizzy with them. Other than finally getting out of there, it was the only hope you had for the future. Him. His stern look. His gruff voice. The punishing grip he had on your thigh and the bruise blossoming on your neck. The gaze that found you in a crowded room. The promise of something more than shifts and standing on program. The thought that there may finally be something worth waiting for when you got out.

His breathing began to change, his hips were more sporadic, and you knew he was close. You put your hands on either side of his face and directed him until he was staring into your eyes. Then you poured every ounce of lust, want, and affection you had for him into your gaze. "Look at me, Kino. I want to see your face when you come inside of me. Please."

That was all it took. He was still for a heartbeat before his face scrunched in agony, as though you were ripping his orgasm from him. Then his expression went slack and his eyes fluttered closed with a long moan. He pumped a last unbalanced rhythm inside of you, seeking to bury himself as far into you as he could, like he couldn't get deep enough. Until he finally collapsed against you, satiated and spent.

You kissed his sweaty forehead and his damp hair as he clung to you. "You're so fucking incredible," you whispered into his temple. "And I haven't changed my mind one bit." With a playful slap at his shoulder you added a low, "Idiot."

He looked up at you with a goofy grin, still panting, and sluggishly unhooked your wobbly legs to set your feet down to the floor. You balanced yourself with your hands on his chest, and then leaned into his arm. Once steady, you lightly traced your fingertips over his sternum and thought again about just how fucking hot he was. Even as exhausted as you were, you could spend another hour just touching him.

He opened his mouth to say something in return, when the two minute warning buzzer went off. It was nearly deafening in the small space. You both looked at each other in shock, and then you were a flurry of motion, grabbing for towels and clothing. You scrambled to get dressed knowing you were nearly out of time to line up.

Out in the hallway, your hair was still very damp, his uniform was soaked from the stall floor even though he still hadn't gotten a shower, and his release dribbled down your inner thigh beneath your pants. And no one would look at the two of you. His face was stoic—the shift manager mask firmly in place, despite his tousled hair and almost ridiculous appearance, but you knew you looked smug enough for the both of you.

You didn't really care that the rest of the men knew. In fact, it was probably better that they did so you didn't have to sneak around, which was very difficult in your current environment. You only had to be respectful. You also wanted to prove to them that you could fuck the shift manager and still pull your weight, whether that was putting the numbers up at your table or throwing a punch. Being full of his come didn't change that. You didn't have his protection because you didn't want it.

You only wanted him. No strings.

And if you peeked your head over the edge of the divider in your cell, and he sat below you, and you whispered to each other in your free time. Or if you both stayed late in the showers or snuck off to the maintenance closet, that was your business.

As the line moved, you wondered if it might be appropriate to send an incompetent Imperial paper pusher an anonymous fruit basket on the other side.

Chapter 2 ->

#kino loy #wants needs and clerical errors #kino loy x reader #kino loy x f!reader #andor #andor fanfiction #fanfiction #posting from ao3 #andy serkis

[excessive-vampires]

Alphabet Thralls Part 6: R's Conditioning

Masterlist with content warnings

Taglist: @d-cs @steh-lar-uh-nuhs @softvampirewhump

R’s eyesight was blurred by tears as well as his lack of glasses as he was led to a small room and strapped into a chair. He continued crying until he heard the door open and approaching footsteps. Someone looked at him and sighed. His face was roughly dried with a tissue and his glasses were placed on his face. He blinked up at the woman in front of him. Her clothes were professional and reminded him of people who had interviewed him for jobs before. There was something in her face and posture too that seemed to indicate she was judging him. He felt a little self-conscious about crying. She walked over to the chair across the desk from him and sat down. With its blank walls and utilitarian furniture the room really did create the impression of serious professionalism. 

She pulled a packet of papers out of a drawer in the desk and looked through them, taking her time and occasionally glancing at R with an unreadable expression. After a few minutes she put the papers back in the drawer and turned her full attention to R.

“So, you’re R-23.”

R didn’t quite know how to respond to that. He didn’t want to identify himself as a nameless product for these vampires to do with as they pleased, but denying it could make them angry, maybe if he did what they wanted they’d mess with his mind less. “Yes.”

“That was rhetorical,” The woman said. “Do you know why you’re here, why we took you?”

“To be given to some monster like a piece of meat.” R grumbled, abandoning the plan to try to please the handler since it had seemed to just annoy her.

“It’s because your manager made you work that extra night shift.”

“What?”

“If you hadn’t been walking home at night we would’ve taken someone else. It was just a matter of opportunity. You were working later than the buses run, so you got taken.”

This wasn’t how R had expected this to go. Was knowing this supposed to mess with his mind enough to let the vampires mold it however they pleased?

“How does that information make you feel?”

“Angry,” R said. Because as confused as he was, he was also furious. 

“Who are you angry with?”

“My manager,” R answered truthfully without thinking.

“And what are you going to do with that anger? Hmm? If we put you right back on that street right now and left because of a random clerical error and let you go back to work, how would you react to seeing your manager again?”

R wanted to say he’d demand better treatment or quit, but that wasn’t true, and telling the truth right now felt… right. Like a sort of last confession. Not that he was Catholic. “I wouldn’t do anything.”

The woman smiled. “Why not?”

“I wouldn’t want to lose my job. I need it.” 

“That’s right. You know how the world works, don’t you? If you want to survive you have to work hard.” 

“Yes…” R officially had no idea where this was going. 

“You’ve endured a lot of mistreatment in your life, but never really fought against it. Why is that?” 

“Because that would have made trouble for me, made it harder to survive.” 

“And surviving is the most important thing, right?” 

“Yes.” The longer this discussion went on the more true that statement felt. He had to focus on surviving. 

“I’m going to tell you exactly what you need to do now to survive, but I think you already have some idea. You need to behave. To do as you're told. To work as hard as you can to make sure no one has any reason to want to get rid of you. Because you want to be where we’re sending you.”

That sounded… mostly right. But the part at the end… “I don’t…”

“You are going to have all your needs met and provided for. You’ll have food, shelter, clothing, as long as you work hard and follow orders, you won’t have to worry about how to survive, just like it’s always been.”

That was how his life had always been. R found himself nodding. 

“That’s right, you just need to know the rules you need to follow and you’ll be set for the rest of your life. You’re very good at following rules, you have so much experience, so that’s going to be very easy.”

“Yeah…” 

“The exact rules may vary based on what your owner tells you to do, but let’s go over the general list.”

#AT #AT Dexter

[dduane]

Hello! Just wanted to start by telling you how wonderful you are, and how much my Discord Vulcan/Romulan Fan Servers adore your work and contribution to Trek. I started this conversation with them, and thought, it's a shot in the dark, but why not ask Diane? It does require a little handwaving at ancient timelines, but...

Have you ever thought that a possible in universe explanation for the similarities in names and governmental structure of Romulans and the ancient Romans could be that one or two of the ships that left Vulcan 2,000+ years before got lost and ended up on Earth? and that by the Dominion war era... some 15-ish percent of humans have a tiny amount (1-3%) of Romulan genetic markers?

No one realizes it's there, because no one's ever looked for it? Or if anyone did figure it out, it was hushed up by Starfleet Intelligence?

Hi there!

First of all: thanks for the nice words! It's always good to hear when people are enjoying my work.

Now as regards this premise: ...It's an interesting one, but not one I'd feel able to sell. You (correctly) point out that there would be too much timeline-oriented slashing around with Occam's Razor needed to make it even start working. Additionally, in at least one of my books, I manage to sell a single Vulcan/human genetic blend only by invoking the most complex medical support technology Vulcan has to offer. Therefore from my POV, the likelihood of castaway Vulcans winding up on Earth 2K years before the Trek "modern" period and successfully hybridizing with another non-Vulcan species unfortunately falls somewhere between "not the slightest chance" and "sorry, NOPE"... while also pushing the concept straight out of science fiction and into fantasy. And though I walk that side of the road too (and repeatedly!), I don't do it with Trek. :)

Also: having written a whole group of books based on the concept that the congruence of Roman/"Romulan" names and cultural tropes is nothing more than a combination of serious misunderstandings and a very old clerical error, I'd have to suggest I'm the wrong person to be trying to justify such a premise in the first place.

So: no, that's a set of concepts that wouldn't have occurred to me. Unquestionably, very creative: but not a road I'd walk.

In any case, it's kind of you to inquire! So thanks for that, and give the Discord-based crowd my best.

(...This, though, is also a good time to remind people that I really shouldn't be seeing prompts or idea pitches for any of the universes where I work—as seeing them more or less guarantees I can never use them, for fear of adverse legal exposure. This is why we have the very useful "not you DD" tag for posts about such issues in the Young Wizards universe. So thanks, all, for your consideration.)

#Star Trek #Romulans

[ghor-dranas]

I'm going to send a message to...2! Campaign Three Edition

On this, the eve of the Apogee Solstice and the 8 year anniversary, I am here to share a few stats projects I've been working on over the course of the campaign! This is the first of them, but I shall be sharing a few more over the course of the day, so be sure to keep an eye out for them!

In this post, we're going to be looking at everyone's favourite spell, Sending. Who casts it more, who has been the recipient most frequently, what's the most times it's been cast in one episode? All of these and more will be answered under the cut.

But first, a quick note before we begin, all data shown here has been collected by myself, all tables made by myself, so there is plenty of room for human error. If you notice a mistake, feel free to reach out and tell me, or just ignore it because this is all just for fun!

In the first 50 episodes of Campaign Three, Sending has been cast 71 times, to 26 different targets! As Bells Hells have two casters capable of casting the spell, let's start by looking at them individually.

Ladies first!

Imogen has cast Sending 49 times over 18 episodes, to 17 different people.

As shown here, she has cast the most messages to the Voice of the Tempest herself, Keyleth of the Air Ashari. I also think it's worth noting that 2 of the 4 messages she Sent to Eshteross were sadly after his demise, so he did not receive them.

Here we can see that Imogen cast the spell once in 6 episodes, twice in 6 episodes, thrice in 2 episodes, four times in 1 episode, six times in 2 episodes, with a record of 7 times in one episode.

That record was set in episode 35: A Pyrrhic Return, where she sent one message to Delilah Briarwood, one to Ashton Greymoore, one to Ariks Eshteross, and a whopping 4 to Keyleth. Yes, that is half of all her total messages to Keyleth. And all to try and arrange transportation.

Moving on to Fresh Cut Grass!

FCG has cast Sending 22 times over 9 episodes, to 15 different people.

A comparatively much more even spread from FCG, with a lot of people only hearing from him once. It's worth noting here that a large part of the reason they've cast Sending so much less than Imogen is that, as a cleric, he has to prepare the spell each time he wants to cast it, and Imogen always has it available, meaning they will often choose not to prepare it. Additionally, as a sorcerer, Imogen can recover spell slots much faster than FCG, allowing her to cast it more times per long rest than him.

Remember what I said about an even spread? Yeah, not so much the case here. Almost half of all of FCG's Sending castings were in episode 49: The Aurora Grows. The reasons for this are many: They really needed to communicate with a lot of people, they had several days of time to do it, and they didn't really need the spell slots for anything else because they were on an airship. In fact, we'll come back to episode 49 in a bit and have a closer look at it.

But before we do that, let's pull up some comparisons!

A few interesting things to note here:

Imogen has Sent a message to FCG twice, whereas FCG has only Sent to her once.

Only 6 people have received a message from both of them. One of those is Ryn, which was the one time they attempted to Send two messages simultaneously. Sadly, Ryn was petrified, so we have no conclusive data on what that experience is like, or who would receive the reply.

There has never been an episode where FCG Sent a message and Imogen did not.

And of course, the most notable statistic here, 15 Sendings cast in one episode, episode 49: The Aurora Grows. Let's have a closer look at that, shall we?

In The Aurora Grows, they Sent 15 messages to 11 different people. This doesn't even account for all of their communications in tat episode, as they also received a message from Keyleth through Orym's Message Bloom, and Orym and Dorian communicated through his Sending Stone twice. But let's look at the 15 castings by Imogen and FCG.

Episode 49 marked the first time D, Pike, Milo, Joe, Ebelond Kai and Ira were contacted by Bells Hells, as well as the first time Birdie was contacted by FCG specifically.

That is almost all I have for you on this topic today, and I thank you all for reading this far. I hope you'll keep an eye out for my other projects which will go up later this evening, where I'll be looking at group stealth checks across all three campaigns.

I end this post by sharing with you a record. Imogen Sending four messages to Keyleth in one episode might be astounding, but it doesn't beat our previous record. No, the title of most Sendings to one person in one episode is still held by Jester Lavorre, Sending FIVE messages to Essek in ONE DAY in episode 2x77. This poor man.

#critical role #critical role stats #cr stats #cr c3 #critical role campaign three #bells hells #imogen temult #fresh cut grass #images should have ALT text but if theres an issue there do let me know

[cosmic--marmalade]

HI LIFE UPDATE BELOW

Ed mention, discussion of mental health, brambles

Hey I realized I didn't tell like? Anyone? What's going on with me??

Life has been one big fuck you after another. My estranged Grandmother passed away in November, my oldest childhood friend also passed, my cat and dog both almost died for entirely different reasons but on the same day, got sick (not COVID) multiple times, I nearly was dropped by my school over THEIR clerical error, and this isn't even counting the stress of managing my relationship with my dad while he's in the middle of a war. You could say my overall my mental health really took a nose dive. I'm so tired and depressed that I haven't been able to even keep up with like the smallest of wrestling stuff, or any of my writing goals.

HOWEVER-

Today was my first day in an intensive outpatient program to treat my ED. I've wanted treatment for a long time, and really been raw dogging it. A recent, and severe relapse caused me to realize I can't do this on my own anymore. I'm sick of lying to myself that I can manage on my own, and also I miss cooking. I miss cooking so so so fucking much. I want a healthy relationship with food, my body, and am tired of being robbed of joyful movement from past trauma.

I'm probably not going to have as much energy to reply or interact as much, but please know I'm going to do my best to maintain my friendships. My world just needs to be a little smaller to deal with my shit rn. Please feel free to send memes posts etc, I just might not respond💖

#brambles #ilu guys #and I really want to be well enough to start writing again #not just for y'all but for me too #briar speaks

[weebsinstash]

Okay so thinking of Val….

Reader overdoses, and ends up “dead” in hell. They maybe spend months down there working for Val, and just when they start to find a groove, maybe just as Val is about to make his move- BAM! Reader wakes up in earth in the ICU.

Meanwhile Val was just about to be handed a drink by his favorite server when they suddenly just disappeared? Wtf???

Reader might try and turn their life around, might try to use this second chance to aim for heaven this time knowing now there’s an afterlife. Or they might just give up, and try to intentionally return to hell.

I just love the thought of reader trying to do better, and Val having to drag them back to hell himself.

Ok but seriously, because I actually had a conversation with someone once about the idea of a Reader who is in that exact sort of situation, is basically in limbo, and Val gets so fucking upset you're still alive he deadass sends people to kill you "to bring his baby back home"

Like imagine you're in Hell doing shifts at the strip club and then you do contract work for I.M.P and one day you just snap upright in bed out of a medically induced coma back on Earth and some time later your old boss Blitzo just jumps out of nowhere while you're at the laundromat "oh hey, fancy seeing you here! sorry but, kinda gotta kill you again! A jobs a job right?" and you're just faceplanting back in Pentagram City before you know it and, like, wouldn't it be hilarious if you fell in the limo/in front of Val/on him a second time. Like jesus christ you're practically a present from Santa Claus. And he's the one who hired IMP to "retrieve you" after all, because, I mean, the way he sees it it's only a matter of time before you're back in Hell and he wants you back just as you were, as he's come to know you. He doesn't want to wait years and years and risk you being different, physically, mentally, emotionally, hell even just aging more. What if you don't die again until its of old age and you're like 96? Not an option, he will physically come up there and drag you back down himself if he has to 🙄

Or some shit like you were ACTUALLY supposed to get into Heaven but there was a clerical error, like deadass on some full absurd humor shit it was literally just that someone fucked up on a form somewhere, and so you're In Actual Fucking Hell and a cherub descends upon golden wings or some shit "yeah, so, im sorry, but, yeeeeah we made a liiiiitle mistake, yeah, no, you can't come into Heaven, you're kind of, already, down here already so, yeeeeah, sorry about that, but, we can give you some cool powers as an apology? Sooooorry, our bad" and Valentino is suddenly slapped in the face with the consequences of you suddenly no longer being so helpless against him. He tries to force you to do something and you somehow overpower him. Maybe you're about to be killed by a business partner of his before your shadow rips off of the ground and mauls the guy, or maybe you even have little demons or creatures contracted to you.

Ngl there's a story I keep thinking about where it's kind of just a big power fantasy but, Reader develops her own powers and she decides that down here in Hell, the only safety is in strength and numbers and starts her own little, kind of crime family of her own. Some real anime "we're all down on our luck and I came to your aid and now you're deathly loyal to me and we're all like family" kind of shit. You start operating in the shadows. A girl who's worked ages for Valentino gets tossed to the curb by him, and you're swooping in, "hey, I could use an actress who's good at using her looks to gather information. You need a place to stay?". One of the Overlord's goons makes a mistake that botches a deal and suddenly Valentino can't care any less and throws the man out, maybe even has him roughed up or even killed first, and upon his respawn when hes at his lowest in the gutter, there you are, "hey, you looking for work?"

You just keep amassing followers and making legitimate business connections and spreading your "new criminal name" around until, you're literally incognito as a server listening to Valentino bark on the phone "I don't care what it fuckin takes, I want you to find this son of a bitch" and I think it's funny if you become like a legitimate mobster and he only knows you by your street name and assumes you're a like an older dude like some real grizzled Italian mafia shit or something and you eventually do the Dramatic Chair Spin Reveal and he finds out this great big thorn in his side is. You, looking all cute and proud of yourself in your special tailored outfit and your being and your confidence as you stare him down and basically declare war (and maybe this like has the opposite effect and he's actually really turned on by the idea of you thinking you can go toe to toe with him and he really wants to show you what he thinks of that sexy little number you're wearing and show you your place)

Like, not exactly for Reader im general but an overall I guess MY Reader idea would be, Reader's street name is Big Blue (since Val's colors are associated with pink and red, his "rival" is thus blue) and you eventually get your own like, signature look and vehicle and all that. Valentino has his customized big pink limousines and meanwhile you're cruising around in with your goons in like a big souped up van like a real glorified shagging wagon like you're the goddamn Ninja Turtles or the Mystery Machine like, you build a BRAND. You meet Valentino on equal footing for the first time and it's him having a meeting with some of his crime partners and one or two of them is like "oh wait, we're waiting for one more person" and there you are strolling in, taking advantage of the situation to know Valentino won't take you down in front of his coworkers who you have also won the good favor of. And you just take your seat in your little navy blue pantsuit where you have that like, that one sexy look going where it's a suit with a dress shirt underneath and both are unbuttoned really low and you don't have a bra on, like, sort of look (that's just the quickest link I found for multiple examples lol)

You're sitting there puffing a blunt the size of a Cuban cigar and emanating power as you've got two absolute shit brickhouse bodyguards/hellhounds standing loyally behind your chair and you're thinking Valentino is really quaking in his high heeled boots as you show him how you can't be pushed around anymore and meanwhile he's just like internally thinking "damn she got them titties hanging out and everything, got some nice heels on too, lookin nicer than when she worked for me tf, where did this come from, suits looking nice, rocking that ice, why tf she never fix herself up like this for me 😤" and getting real jealous if another criminal at the meeting is trying to flirt/fuck w you

Why is it that I always give my longest ideas on asks for things totally different 😅

#yandere stuff #sinprompts