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#kino loy though :((((((

jyndor · 1 year

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what’s fascinating to see is the juxtaposition of cassian as a recruiter (as an axis or a fulcrum) and luthen as a recruiter.

the show has been playing on chirrut’s words in rogue one: there’s more than one kind of prison.

so you’ve got luthen who every episode gives me more and more former jedi vibes - and say he is actually a former jedi in hiding, say it’s not just a similarity. he has made his mind a ‘sunless space’ and thinks of himself as damned because he is using his enemy’s (the sith’s) tools against them - anger, ego, unwillingness to yield, eagerness to fight. “they’ve set me down a path from which there is no escape.” i mean im not ready to pound the gavel yet but he’s definitely a jedi in hiding who has felt a need to use the very tools that he doesn’t believe in. that are antithetical to his very belief system. even if he’s not a jedi, he’s trapped in a world that he loathes, selling the pieces of cultures that have been marginalized and oppressed to fund a rebellion, a rebellion he believes in but cannot serve without selling his soul. that is a horrifying thing.

you’ve got mon mothma who lives in luxury and affluence but has locked her truth away to protect herself and to protect the rebellion - and is in a traditional marriage that began when she was a teenager, a child. for all of her privilege and she does have that in spades, that is something the show is saying - that mon is in a prison of sorts too. vel as well - though she has her freedom when she is with the rebels and with cinta.

you’ve got jung who has been undercover in the isb for six years, who now has to live with the guilt of kreegyr’s rebels likely being massacred so that the isb doesn’t find out there’s a spy in their midst. man luthen that was cold.

but those are metaphorical prisons. and that’s important to remember because ultimately while they are at risk, they’re also not in literal prison. they’re not enslaved like cassian and the others on narkina-5, or tortured like bix.

and a metaphorical prison IS easier to survive, no matter what mon says. the irony is that while cassian has been in many ways lying to the audience and to everyone else in the show until narkina, he’s always known what he’s against. to borrow saw’s words, cassian has clarity of purpose from the moment he is imprisoned. we don’t see him worn down although he surely is exhausted, we don’t see him disillusioned like melshi or in denial like kino loy (who andy serkis says was put in prison for organizing his workplace. fun fact).

he is at serious risk of torture and death but cassian is more alive and more himself than he’s seemed in the show until this arc. he’s organizing, he’s being a leader, he’s recruiting - and he seems like he’s free in some ways. because he knows the enemy intimately like luthen, but in different ways. the fact that he knows the empire thinks they’re not even worth listening to because he’s lived that his whole life, that liberates him to openly rebel in a way that seems counterintuitive. but he’s right. and it works.

but unfortunately recruits don’t always live. shit goes wrong or someone doesn’t get the help they need when they’re at their weakest - kino loy - sometimes someone has to die - like tivik, like kreegyr’s rebels - to get a message to people who can do something with it. like cassian and jyn and the rest of rogue one.

that’s where cassian is when we meet him in rogue one. back in prison, but more of a metaphorical prison (i mean saw’s cell aside lol) as chirrut notes. a mental prison, like luthen’s. like lonni jung’s.

kino loy says that “if we can fight half as hard as we’ve been working, we will be home in no time.”

rogue one is when he can finally liberate himself again and go home.

#star wars andor #cassian andor #meta #andor #andor series #kino loy #ruescott melshi #bix caleen #luthen rael #mon mothma #btw jyn is the key #she is literally what is on his mind when he frees himself in saw's cell #and also the home references and welcome home #i'm just saying it's a thing #and cassian is her key too #he is the reason melshi and kay break her out of prison #it's omg #andor spoilers

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dancerinthestorm · 7 months

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Fic Recs: "Didn't see that one coming" edition...

I've been wanting to start collecting my all time favorite stories in ages but never knew where to start, there are just too many talented souls out there. A lazy day of re-reading favorites makes me want to finally give it a try though.

Featuring today: stories that defy my usual hunting patterns but still became all time favourites against all odds. Stories leaving me utterly gobsmacked thinking "That was so, soo awsome... but how on earth did I end up in this fandom / character / trope tag of all places?".

@messy-insomniac-bookgirl Let's be honest: this writer is the spirit animal of this specific selection. Never heard of the fandom? Dislike the protagonist with a passion? Doesn't matter: she writes it, I devour and love it. The reason? Dense and hugely rewarding story-telling, perfect pacing, side characters you want to adopt on the spot, delicious slow burns with sooo much yearning. And, most importantly, the awesome female OCs. I am in love with each and every one of them, regardless who they share a screen with. It's almost impossible to select just one story for this list but let's go for "Keep Calm and Buckle Up" (AO3) for suddenly making me feel things when Steve Rogers entered the stage in "Infinity War". Steve Rogers x OFC, James "Bucky" Barnes x OFC, Steve x Bucky x OFC. Action, slow burn, emotional roller coaster rides. Rated E.

@batsingotham "Written in the stars" (AO3) I don't do Soul Mate AUs. I don't do Robert Pattinson characters. For me the best things about "The Batman" were Andy Serkis' Alfred and 3 hours of Niravana in a loop. But the undisputed goddess queen of slow burn domestic fluff overruled all of that. Bruce Wayne/Reader. Soulmate AU. Dorks in love. Bruce needs a hug and Alfred has the patience of a saint. Rated M.

"Sweet Conversations" by @glassgulls Lord of the Rings has been living in my head rent free ever since I was a teenager but I simply don't do Elves. Period. Yes, Glorfindel is very cool and Lee Pace's Thranduil is an absolute vision (the costumes, the voice and the make up, mind you, don't get me started on any other aspect of the Hobbit movies though...) but otherwise? Thanks but no thanks. Nevertheless: the award for best fictional kiss I’ve come across in ages goes to this gem. Amazing scene setting and character work for something so short. Leaves you weak-kneed and high as a kite on serotonin for the rest of the day. Haldir/Reader. One-shot. Rated M.

„Ownership of Mine“ by @amywritesthings . Okay, lets be honest, peeps: Prison settings for a romance story? Seriously? Who in their right mind would be able to think about romance and seduction when all of your freedom is taken away, you are crammed into a small and dark space with people of questionable character and put under constant surveilance. Well… apparently I can… with this story. Even if that tag is a big red NO GO sign for me otherwise. Amazingly dense story telling and atmosphere building in just 3 short chapters. Kino Loy/Reader. Rated E.

„Directions“ by @zinzinina . Probably a sure sign that I am getting too old for all of this but tags about age gaps, first love or first times usually make me run for the hills. Add a character like Poe Dameron (I mean: come on! Howww…?!) to the mix and there is not enough willing suspension of disbelieve in the world to get me immersed in the plot. Or so I thought. Unwisely. Until this beauty came along. Poe Dameron/Reader. Rated E.

#fic recs #stories to cherish and re-read for all eternity #fan fiction #steve rogers x ofc #james bucky barnes x ofc #steve rogers x james bucky barnes x ofc #haldir x reader #haldir survives lotr goddamit!#bruce wayne x reader #battinson x reader #kino loy x reader #poe dameron x reader #dancerinthestorm reads

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andorshitdaily · 6 months

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Wandor Wednesday Wars #4 - Prelims

Who completes the Ninja Warrior course fastest and/or makes it further than the rest of the pack?

(see original post for more info if you don't know about the sport)

Heat 3 - four will advance to the semifinals

Remember, even though you can only vote for ONE person, FOUR of them will advance from each poll. So don't just think about who you think is the fastest out of everyone, consider 2-4 as well and think about voting for one of them instead. One or two votes could make all the difference.

#andor #polls #xaul #kino loy #brasso #saw gerrera #cassian andor #ruescott melshi #vel sartha #taramyn barcona #wandor wednesday wars

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willelbyers · 1 year

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there were dozens of men left stranded on those platforms. maybe even hundreds. men like kino loy, who got to the end of the race and had to stop right before the finish line because they were never taught to swim. men whose bravery was outdone by their ability.

and of those who did dive - i wonder how many made it to shore. i wonder how many men succumbed to their injuries sustained while escaping. i wonder how many slipped under the waves due to fatigue.

i wonder how many didn’t know how to swim and jumped anyway.

were there creatures in the water? riptides? chemicals? did any of the men come from planets unsuitable for salt? did anyone see a teammate get abruptly pulled under? did they fear it might happen to them, too? or did people see friends sink below the surface, wanting to help but knowing there was nothing to be done within the crush of people?

i wonder how they felt when they reached the shore, how many collapsed into the dust from exhaustion and how many immediately ran. i wonder if people found friends they were separated from in the escape. i wonder how they decided to stick together. was it an unsaid agreement? were they bonded in their trauma such that they never even considered leaving each other? or perhaps they argued about their best course of survival - easier for one man to slip through security than two.

i wonder if any of them promised to check in when they reached safety. if any of them got their feet under them on solid ground and realized they had nowhere to go. if any of them knew they had no one to go back to. if any of them went home at all.

and though the prison had wanted to demoralize and dehumanize them, those men had names. they were used as slaves the empire barely spared a thought for - but it was because of that ignorance that they could organize their rebellion.

now that they’re free, the empire will notice. the empire does not forget an insult like this so easily - they still have not forgotten aldhani. there will be no forgiveness. the empire will hunt them, just as they hunt cassian andor. even as they run, the imperials close back in on them. the escapees may be out of their cells, but they can never truly be liberated as long as the emperor lives.

when the empire arrives, i wonder what will happen to those men left behind.

#star wars #andor #narkina 5 #one way out #cassian andor #kino loy #long post #andor spoilers

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saradika · 1 year

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hoping against hope

Rated M - 2.8k

Pairings - kino loy x wife!reader

Tags: andor spoilers, fix-it fic, hurt/comfort, mentions of violence and death, anxiety, vaguely implied sexual content, loose third-person pov, flashbacks

Summary: There is one way out. And against all odds - he takes it.

He comes home.

A/N - Based heavily on this vanity fair interview (the snippets of his backstory), and an exploration to see what it might be like if he had made it home to his family (which comprises of his wife - no descriptors given). Of course Andor is so brilliantly written - this is purely for a little bit of angst and comfort.

There had been a time - years ago - when a knock at the door would have had her racing through the room.

Her heart leaping into her throat as she threw open the door, chest so tight she could hardly breathe.

And now, she despises it.

It’s become a painful thing, something she’s become dulled to over the years. Enough to where if she has company, they will answer the door for her. Walk right in, if they know she is home.

But she’s alone, tonight.

And the knock rings out, again.

———

It’s late, far past dark - nerves coiling in her stomach as her fingers curl around the blaster. Something she had never wanted to own, but had become a necessity over the past few years.

With the troopers that moved into town, the trouble seeming to follow in their wake. A constant and painful reminder of what happened.

It’s been close to a decade but she still remembers the call - the hushed croak of a voice, the tone of someone not wanting to be overheard.

“It’s Kino. They’re here, at the mine-”

She knew the comm was from one of the boys on his shift. Had barely made it in time, pushing her way to the front of the crowd as a group of men were slapped in binders.

Her husband - red-faced, the shaken-loose swoop of hair that swung across his forehead - still arguing, as his arms are yanked behind him.

Her voice, carried through the air - his snarl cutting off as he sees her. The flash of sorrow, the moment of distraction used to push them into the transport.

Eight years.

For disturbing the peace.

For disrupting Empire regulations and procedure.

For just wanting fair hours - the recent increase in output leading to illness, accidents, injury. Two men in critical condition, a dozen more wounded, from a collapsed tunnel that never should have happened.

All under his watch.

It could have all been prevented.

It had been enough to make him snap.

A calm discussion that had quickly turned to shouting, to violence, leading to four men arrested. Their judgment passing just as quickly - barely any time to process, to say goodbye - before he was gone.

And it’s like a ghost stands before her now - as the door swooshes open. The blaster clattering to the floor, because she knows that shape, the curve of lips and the shape of a nose beneath the low hood of the cloak.

The hands that push the fabric back, the bit of light from the twin moons casting shadows across his face.

And though a part of her know this - her brain seems to stutter, the picture in front of her not making sense.

Because, it was him. Not entirely the him she knew. Her husband. His face is different - still him, just older. The dark ink of his hair turned silver, the light, neat beard now full and long. Lines carved deep from time around his eyes and forehead.

Though, his eyes are the same.

The same as the photos, the same as in her memories and dreams.

They blink at her - no words coming as he takes a step forward. As her arms are coming to wrap around him, a sob choking her as his hand curls around the back of her head, crushing her against him.

He was home.

———

The door locks in place when he steps inside.

There’s a million questions they both have, all of them tight and stuck in their throats. A weird sort of melancholic remembrance - a moment in time where things felt just as they had been. A jolt as they realize it couldn’t be more different.

She says his name and it’s like a gift - his memory returning, so much already restored when he had stepped onto this planet. Even more so when he found his way to the town.

So unsure if she would still be there.

That was something that had been on his mind for days, months. Years.

Afraid that she would have left. Or maybe, if she had stayed - that she had moved on.

Found someone else.

He wouldn’t have blamed her.

It would have hurt - after everything. Crawling his way out of that hell, to get back here.

But - he would have understood.

That twist of unease and fear finally and mercifully laid to rest, when he saw her standing in their doorway.

He’s home, but he’s not.

It’s not the same, and it never will be.

Her hand trembles against his face, thumb brushing over weeks-old scruff. He leans into it, the first touch in years that wasn’t a means to an end.

When her mouth presses to his and his eyes close, it’s now and it’s twelve years ago and he can hear a rough, ragged sound that takes him a moment to realize it’s coming from his own throat.

Eight years of pushing everything down, springing to the surface as his jaw grits.

She leads him to their room. Set up the same but much like them, the details had changed over the years. Searching through closets that still hold his things, even after all this time.

Finding him clothes, to get him out of the ones he’s been working in, traveling in, sleeping in. Clothes that weren’t even his - the shoes too tight on aching feet, the jacket frayed at the cuffs and heavily stained.

Both a luxury, after the prison.

“Tell me everything.” She tells him, handing him an old sweater that smells freshly laundered.

He hesitates.

So much like he had on the platform at Narkina 5.

Because nothing had turned out the way he thought it would. Even after the days, weeks, it took to get back here - he's still uncertain.

Such a different hestitation from before, because then, he had been sure of what would happen. Had known from the beginning, as soon as the whispers began.

Had made peace with it the night before. A stab of guilt the he had thought about the complicity he had been lulled into. The daze and ache in the hallway with Ulaf that came when he realized he was never going to leave that prison alive.

Because there would be no escape.

Not for him. Not here.

He couldn’t swim.

An irony that was not lost on him. It was a prison in more ways than one - caging him in, even as he stood, breathing in the fresh air.

Feet planted flat on the platform as the others rushed by, diving into the ocean, to their freedom. The rueful smile he had managed to send Keef, before the despair set in - so close to freedom, after all those years.

At the cost of his self-sacrifice, thousands of others could go home, rejoin their families. It was what he had to do, he knew that.

She was never far from his mind, as his eyes closed. Stinging, from the sun and the wind and the tears that seem to spring up, unbidden.

Not paying attention to the surge of men from another floor, rushing from the stairs. His feet ripped out from underneath him as he's suddenly falling.

Plummeting.

Kino is ripped from the memory when she touches his arm - still unsure if he’s real. A sentiment he understands well, the ghost of a smile he sends her way in thanks.

He’s sure he’s frightening her, that she’s worrying. So - as he eases off the torn, canvas jacket - he begins.

He fills in what he can - as he tugs on a pair of thick woolen socks, because he never wants to be barefoot again. Because she knows the timing didn’t line up. That he’s early, that something had happened.

Her hand clutched in his, as he catches her up over these years they’ve been apart. His voice clipped and mechanical, because the wounds are too fresh, and this is the only way he can get through them.

But there’s so many things he doesn’t tell her.

That he won’t ever say out loud.

How he’s spent the last three years unable to remember the way her voice sounded.

Hating himself for forgetting.

How he never thought he’d breathe fresh air, again. How there’s so much of him he’s had to tamp down, close up inside his head, just to make it through each day. Turning himself into a shell, because he had to.

How he’s seen death. Time and time again.

Seeing his own on that platform, how he mourned for himself but also for the woman waiting for him. Wondering if she would ever find out what happened.

His throat growing tight as he weaves in what he can. Skipping over the parts that were too painful. Trying to make her understand just how dire things had been, for all of them.

Her fury and fear and amazement written so plainly across her face. It’s hard to bear.

The afterwards is easier. How those in the water had scattered - how the few of them that had made it to the eastern shore had escaped.

Grateful for Keef again - figuring out how to sneak them aboard a transport that was heading off-world. Stealing clothes, lying through their teeth. Surviving.

Finding men desperate enough for workers, that they didn’t care where they came from. It had almost been funny - the old Weequay foreman telling them to keep their heads down, to do what they were told. It felt different, when you were a free man.

He could do that.

Hours of hard labor in exchange for a pitiful amount of credits. Each day passing, until he could afford a ship home.

Talking until his throat grows hoarse, until he’s realizing for the first time just how weary he is.

She takes over then - like she always had. Coaxing him to bed after a long shift, making him take care of himself.

Sliding in besides him, just as they used to. Lying in silence, her head pressed against his chest. His arms around her in an iron grip.

“I missed you.” He speaks into the dark, “Stars, I missed you.”

Grateful she can’t see him, the cracks that threaten to shatter his armor. He isn’t sure what would happen if she could.

Isn’t sure he’s that strong, yet.

His eyes shut when she repeats the words back.

Finally feeling like he can breathe again.

———

It pains her to hear what happened. To see him like this, though she’s never been more grateful. It’s feels unbelievable, what he’s been through.

Staying awake after he drifts off, exhaustion pulling him under after his long travels, the effort of revisiting the memories.

Watching him, the furrow in his brow that persists, even when asleep.

He’d always been a stern man.

It had become a running joke, the man who was used to barking orders, keeping the line running flawlessly.

A loth-wolf, ferocious as one.

Until he met her.

“And what am I, now?” He had asked, an eyebrow cocked - at one of their evenings spent in good company, at the local cantina.

The two men across from her exchanged looks, before one smirked, leaning closer.

“A tooka, chief.”

Kino had scoffed, lifting his glass - but she could see the edge of a smile hidden behind the cup.

Could feel the warmth of his hand, from where it rested along the back of the booth. Where his fingers brushed the bare skin of her neck, goosebumps raising after.

There was a lot she remembered about that night.

But, she thinks - that softening was gone.

All hard edges, now. Rougher than before.

She think she understands. She isn’t sure she could have made it through what he did - what he had to do to made it home.

The waiting had been agony, but she had bared it. The boys at the mine had been there for her, after. Checking on her, making sure she ate. They had respected him, knowing what he had done was for them.

But Kino had been alone. Stolen from her.

He wasn’t the only thing that Empire had taken from them.

Once upon a time, recently after they were married, there had been whispers. Just little hopes and dreams under the sheets, about their future together. Where they would live, where they would go. What they would do.

Things that she wasn’t even sure were possible - but at that moment, it hadn’t mattered.

It feels like the Empire has stolen that from them, as well. Hope and dreams and time.

So much time.

But, she thinks - maybe they could make it up.

Together.

———

It’s still dark when he finds himself gasping for breath.

Forgetting for a long moment where he is.

This happens often now - the memory of falling. The feeling of weightlessness, the terror as he suddenly jolts awake - expecting the icy impact.

Remembering the way the fear tasted as he went under, as sharp as the salt water that filled his throat.

Somehow - mercifully, instinctually - finding his way to the surface.

Thinking, better to die here, a free man - than face the same death of so many before him.

But he hadn’t. Another grace of the gods, the Force, he'd thank anything - as some of the men from his shift find him. He thinks he tells them to leave him. It’s hard to remember, the panic overshadowing his memories.

But they don't.

They remember his words.

You see someone who's confused, someone who is lost, you get them moving and you keep them moving until we put this place behind us.

They put the place behind them.

His feet touched down on land.

He reaches for her then, remembering. Just as he had reached for them, just as his head was about to submerge again.

The worn cotton of her nightdress feels like silk to his calloused fingers. Unable to sleep soundly in a room that isn’t harsh and white and sterile.

Too warm in his clothes but it’s better than being cold all the time, as he curls himself around her again. Slowly recounting all the things he’s forgotten.

Reacquainting himself with the one he loves, as she stirs, rolling over to face him. Remembering with slow and careful fingers, how they used to fit together so perfectly.

If he only has tonight - then he’ll make it count.

———

There’s the brush of his cheek against hers as the sky just starts to turn from violet to bronze, a voice low in your ear. Tugging her from slumber - this time a much more rested sleep.

“I can’t stay.”

There’s an edge to his voice, sorrow wrapped in steel because he hasn’t been sure how to tell her.

Because he had known. Had been asked to go with Keef and Melshi - where he had hesitated again.

“I can’t.” He had rasped, his eyes bouncing between the two of them.

Keef had understood. The sharp look in his eye, the way his head ducked to make eye contact. His words just as clipped and clear and sure as during that moment in the elevator.

“Kino. There is no going back. Not now.”

He knew there wasn’t. Not to before.

But he could afford a night, couldn’t he? Hadn’t he earned that, after all of those years?

Just a chance to see her, again.

She turns, frowning as she blinks sleepily at him, trying to caught up. Awake enough to notice the singularity of his words, the exact tone in which he says them.

“It’s not safe. For you, for me.” His arms tighten around her, betraying his words, “I haven’t told you everything that’s happened. I need to leave, before-“

Kino’s word die off as she scoffs, her frown deepening - as she rolls over to face him.

It’s insulting. How he assumes she’s stayed here because she wanted to. That she wouldn’t have ran - to her old home, to somewhere new, anywhere - if there had been a way to tell him.

That she hadn’t been terrified to leave the house for weeks, in case something had changed, and he had come home. That she still left notes when she left the house for more than an hour.

That she hadn’t been staying for him.

He misinterprets, hurt flashing across his features, before his jaw sets. But then she’s kissing him, the soft press of her mouth before she’s pushing herself up, legs swinging over the edge of the bed.

“Tell me the rest, then.” She calls from over her shoulder, as she pull the bags out from the storage beneath, “While we pack.”

She’s waited for him - just as he had for her.

She wasn’t letting go of him now.

#a fix it fic #kino loy x reader #kino lot x f!reader #kino loy x you #Kino Loy #andor spoilers

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littlecarjaflame · 1 year

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Just a couple of Andor-related thoughts I need to get out of my head (don’t mind me :))

1) The sheer brilliance of having Maarva deliver her rousing speech from beyond the grave. If she did this while alive, the Empire would’ve been able to hurt her, break her. But what are you going to do to her now? She is already dead. She is a ghost. You can’t hurt her. (Also ties in beautifully with what Nemik says about freedom being an idea)

1a) Brasso using Maarva’s brick to hit an Imperial in the face was tacky and on the nose, and so, so satisfying.

1b) Kino Loy was the parallel to this. He knew he was already dead when they started the prison break. Once he realized they were not letting him go, he was dead. So, like Maarva, he went all in.

2) I still believe that Han shot first. On that note, there is no doubt that Cassian always shoots first. It is remarkable, how absolutely ruthless all the supposed good guys are. Cassian kills almost as an afterthought, he rarely knocks people out, he goes in for the kill and does it with terrifying efficiency - his first scene in Rogue One was not an exception stemming from desperate measures, it was his standard MO. Look at Skeen. Even at Maarva’s funeral, there is no scene of him stopping what he’s doing to listen to his mother’s last message. He just keeps going, because he has a job to do. Cassian looks hot and cute and burns with love for his friends, but he will not hesitate to end anyone in his way. Not for a second.

2a) Cassian is not the only one. Vel is pretty much the only person who does not have laser focus on the cause and everything else be damned. Luthen doesn’t even try to hide it. Kleya is so cold and calculating, she puts Luthen to shame. Mon acts high and mighty, but in the end, she throws her husband and her daughter under the bus. Cinta barely even looks at Vel when there is work to be done. And once again - this is the same franchise, which had Luke quitting his Jedi training and racing off to save his friends, which had Anakin abandoning all his beliefs for love. I have not seen every bit of SW media out there, so correct me if I’m wrong, but I think the sheer coldness and ruthlessness of Andor characters is unprecedented.

3) Cassian is not the hero of this story. He is the protagonist (or one of the protagonists, maybe?), but he is not the hero. I fully expected him to have a big moment in the finale, showing up, leading a riot maybe? But they went a different route, and one much more fitting to the character. When you think about it, in the end the Empire doesn’t even have proof that he actually was on Ferrix, except for what someone told them. Cassian stays hidden, ties up the loose ends, and slips out of Ferrix as if he had never been there.

This is an origin story, but not one of a hero. Cassian is not a leader, he never takes the front seat. He is the grey eminence, the person behind the Kino Loys and Jyn Ersos, not necessarily manipulating the leaders themselves, but pulling the strings, so that the leader figure can (that is, has the soldiers and a ship to go on Scarif) and will (that is, asking him is that the best you have to spur him on). From a writing standpoint, this is difficult to pull off, because a character like this is, by definition, not in the spotlight. But even though it wobbles slightly (for a show named after him, Cassian gets surprisingly little screen time and at the beginning he is rather passive protagonist), the writers come through in the end.

3a) Sometimes, I like to think that the titular “Andor” is actually Maarva.

4) Once again, I haven’t seen all the SW shows, but what I love about Andor is that they show us the Empire side of things. Not only the big players, the villains, but ordinary Imperial officers. And they are human. They have loyalty to each other, personalities, nagging mothers, obsessions, dreams. Even though they are still at core bad people, they are people. There is a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it shot during the prison escape, when a bunch of guards is cowering in what looks like a utility cabinet, keeping as quiet as they can, sweating and trembling, while outside the door, the prisoners are running. You know Syrill - he is the guy which makes the hair on the back of your neck stand. For Dedra, I loved a little scene in one of the early episodes, where she was going over some reports with one of her underling, and the underling suggests that they can stay a little longer to work some more. She doesn’t bully him into staying late, she doesn’t even hint that he should. And yet he offers. A nameless, completely unimportant person shows agency, making him, with one line, more than an anonymous extra.

5) The irony in this show is something so darkly hilarious, I can’t help to chuckle at points. Sometimes it can be a little heavy-handed, like Nemik being literally killed by the stolen money or Cassian building parts of the Death Star, but this show has so many subtle ironic moments. Cassian taking part in the Aldhani heist, so that he can escape Ferrix with his mother, is exactly what motivates his mother to stay. The prisoners are able to orchestrate the escape, because the working program forces them into cooperating - you can see it, they work as a well-oiled machine. The Empire looking all over for a man who is sitting in one of their own prisons. And so on and so on...

5a) Syrill and Dedra are absolutely played as a twist of the stalker-y Twilight-y kind of romance, complete with the lines like I’d never lie to you and just being in your presence, I realized life was worth living. Look me in the eye and tell me that it is not straight out of a trashy romance - and Dedra reacts to him the way any sane woman would. That wasn’t a conversation, you were brought in for questioning. They are highlighting how creepy some of these romances are, and I am here for it.

5b) The irony, along with the main theme of the show (”the surprise from below”), climaxes beutifully in the finale. Everyone is so obsessed with Cassian, where he is and whether he is coming, that they don’t notice the rebellion brewing under their feet. Dedra says she wants a funeral, without realizing it is the last thing she needs. Even when it starts, she is running around, looking up where she thinks Cassian is, and not looking down. And for this exact reason, I think the most potentially dangerous antagonist in the show is Syrill. Because he is the only one who looks down, who recognizes the danger of Cassian Andor (partly because he is also one of the ordinary people). He is set up to be mocked, with his obsession with Dedra and his mundane job and his nagging mother, but I think that makes us overlook the terrifiying idea of what Syrill Karn would be like if he actually got the resources and authority to do something. Like Cassian said, power doesn’t panic, and who is the only Imperial in the riot who kept a cool head? Not Ice Queen Dedra, not the local officers, but wimpy-looking, played-for-laughs Syrill Karn. Dedra sees the big picture, can connect the dots where noone else can, and Syrill understands where to look for those dots. Those two together - terrifying. Without irony.

Anyway, rant over, move along.

#andor #andor spoilers

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tarabyte3 · 7 months

Text

I Want You to Show Me Weak

Fandom: Andor

Pairing: Kino Loy/F!Reader

Chapter 25/27 (7.2k words)

->start at chapter 1<-

<- Chapter 24

Summary: 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.

Warnings: Explicit rating, Smut, Prison, Prison sex, minor non-graphic injuries, Dom/Sub, sexual tension, dirty talk, praise, hair-pulling, choking, unprotected sex, oral, angst, orgasm denial, humiliation, slut shaming, references to domestic abuse, discussion of domestic abuse, minor violence, discussion of violence, description of violence, come eating, discussion about sexual assault, allusion to sexual assault, rough oral sex, throat fucking

A/N: New warning in the tag! And as you're looking at it, I want you all to remember that I enjoy a bit of messy realism in my smut. 😅😇 Enjoy! Also, now that we're nearing the end, if you're expecting there to have been a secret plot to this story this whole time, it's best for both of us if you go ahead and leave that here at the front door…the two of them, their relationship, and their growth were the real plot this whole time.

Work title is from "Poison" by Vaults. Chapter title is from "Daddy" by Ramsey. (Like I wouldn't put that in here, come on)

AO3 Link

Chapter 25 - I belong to you, I give you the power. You're the only one that I let in. You tear my walls down.

When Kino steps into your cell that evening, you meet him halfway.

Your movement is practically a lunge because you're still eager and itching from your lack of satisfaction that morning. Once you no longer had the distraction of work, it had grown into persistence while you were alone in your cell. One that took every ounce of effort not to indulge, but you didn't. You behaved.

He doesn't stop you or scold you, though. Instead his arms wrap around you—one hand pressed between your shoulder blades and one at the back of your neck—and he holds you tightly to him while his tongue delves into the heat of your mouth to slide along yours, drawing a moan from your throat.

You kiss him as though you haven't seen him in days. As though you didn't wake up in his arms that morning. As though he didn't kiss you passionately goodbye before leaving your cell with a whispered promise to take care of you later.

Your hands roam greedily over him. The slight contour of his belly and the ridges of his ribs. The shifting muscle of his chest and the hard line of his collarbone where the unnatural fabric of his uniform finally ends and gives way to flesh. He's always warm to the touch—his skin a balm to your cooler body. Touching him is like stealing heat to soothe your sore, overworked hands. You want to sink into him and bask in it.

No, you want him to sink into you and set every inch of you ablaze with heat. You want to burn in his arms.

With a bit more urgency, your fingers trace up along his neck, which is thick and corded with even more muscle. The tendons there are drawn taut from the effort of working his mouth hungrily over yours. You can even feel the shifting and flexing all the way up into his jaw, you notice with a shiver. Every bit of him radiates strength and all of it is focused on you.

You whimper as a wet heat blossoms between your legs.

Finally, you slip your fingers into those untameable curls at the base of his skull. He lets out a pleased, muffled grunt in response. So you hook your fingers and drag them over his scalp, tugging gently on a few strands of hair as you do. He breaks the kiss to groan in pleasure.

"I've missed you all day," you whisper against his lips.

"Did you?" He raises a teasing eyebrow at you. He sounds almost out of breath, you notice with no small amount of pride. "All of me or parts of me specifically?"

"Well, those parts are nicely attached to you and you use them wonderfully, so all of you." You grin as you press forward to kiss him again.

His hands slide down your back until they reach your hips. With another grunt he pulls you flush against him, and you whimper as your stomach meets the hard bulge of his erection. He pulls away to growl into your mouth, "Can you tell I missed you, too?"

"Yes," you breathe out. Then you slowly grind yourself into him, working little twitches from his cock and causing his breath to hitch. "Feel free to show me, though."

"I see you're still being impatient." He narrows his eyes at you in warning.

You, on your knees, tied up with your own uniform, and sobbing while you plead with him to touch you.

You freeze.

Your sudden lack of movement has him humming in satisfaction.

"Much better. Look at how well you can behave for me." Then he leans forward and whispers in your ear, "Especially when you're properly motivated."

You go weak-kneed and melt against him, your fingers clutching the front of his uniform. It's like leaning into stone for as little as he shifts under the sudden brunt of your weight.

"You know," he nuzzles against your jaw with his nose, "I've been giving a lot of thought to what you said to me."

"What I said to you…?" Your mind races to come up with context for what he means. Unfortunately, your brain is currently too clouded with need to find any. "You'll have to be more specific. I've said a lot of things to you." You turn towards him, your lips nearly brushing over his. "And some of them were pretty filthy."

"Does, 'I'd let you do anything you want to me' ring any bells?"

"Oh." The memory of being bent over in front of him while he teased your opening cuts through the fog of lust. Of stroking his cock that morning and offering to give him anything he could ask for. Then the realization of what it means that he's bringing it up dawns on you. You feel a sudden flush of heat and thrill as you lean away to look at him properly. "Does this mean you thought of something?"

"I did." He looks pleased with himself and that only causes the excitement within you to build.

"What is it?" You stare up at him in thinly veiled excited curiosity. Because this is something new. It's something he wants. "My ass?"

"You're clever." The low gravel of his voice sends shivers straight to your already aching sex. "I'm sure you'll catch on quickly."

You open your mouth to protest, but his nostrils flare and his jaw clenches, as if he's daring you to continue.

"Okay, Kino." Your posture shifts as you submit to him. "Tell me what to do."

The look of pride on his face nearly brings you to your knees again.

"Lie on your back across the width of the bed. I want your head hanging over the side of the mattress." He sounds so calm. If he's feeling eager at all, he hides it well. Sometimes it feels as though he has an infinite supply of patience and self-control. While you have…well, a rapidly dwindling stock on hand whenever you're around him.

"Okay." Without hesitation, you pull away from him to strip your uniform off. Then once you're bare for him, you begin climbing onto your bed to do as you're told. It takes you a few tries to get into the right spot so only your head is leaning back and not your shoulders as well. You also have to keep your legs bent and knees pulled up to even fit on the narrow mattress, but eventually you settle in and he gives you an approving nod.

You look at him upside down. From this angle, the bulge in his pants is directly in your line of sight. As he begins sliding the top of his uniform over his head, another thought you had while you were on your knees yesterday suddenly comes to mind.

"You're going to fuck my mouth."

He bunches his shirt and tosses it to the side, the muscles in his arms and chest flexing from the casual effort, and he stares down at you in challenge. "Your mouth? Are you sure about that?" His hands move to his waistband and you gulp in realization.

"My throat," you say quietly. Then you take in a shuddering breath because vocalizing it makes it real.

The corner of his lips quirks into a pleased smile. "I told you you would catch on quickly."

But he must see something in your expression as you continue to stare up at him, still wide eyed and trying to process what that entails. Something that gives him pause. Because then his hands move away from his waistband, leaving it undisturbed. Instead, he settles his palms on either side of your jaw and lightly cups your face. As though you're delicate and not about to get throat fucked.

"Still mean what you said? Or would this be too much? Because now's the time to speak up." The edge and the teasing are absent from his voice.

You unconsciously lick your lips as you look up into his eyes and the idea still bounces around in your mind. Despite your shock, of course you still mean it. How could you ever say no to him? "I do. God, do I still mean it."

"Do you trust me?" He whispers as he gazes down at you with a tender expression. His blue eyes, soft and searching for any hint of doubt on your face.

"With my life," you vow without hesitation.

"Good. But you let me know if you need me to stop for any reason." His thumb brushes over your cheek, barely touching your skin. You shiver at the ghost of a sensation. "This isn't a punishment. I don't want it to just be pain and misery for you. Okay?"

"Okay, Kino. I want to give this to you." You place a hand over his much larger one and give it an encouraging squeeze. "Let me."

That's all the reassurance he needs. His unheld hand shifts back to his waistband and he works—slowly and efficiently—to pull his pants down past his hips.

Finally, his erection falls free in front of your face. For a second you swear you go cross-eyed taking it in because god you remember now just how thick he truly is. You swallow heavily, and the first bit of real doubt itches at the back of your mind. Because how the fuck are you going to handle that? When you're on your knees you have the leverage to pull away or change the angle. But like this? You're completely helpless to him.

As terrifying as the thought is, you still feel a responding flutter at your core. The idea of being at his mercy is tantalizing, despite the circumstances.

You look past his length, up into his face as he stares hungrily down at you, and you know you're going to do everything you can to try. For him.

"Be so good for me," he whispers as his thumb moves over your cheek again—firmer this time. The grip on your jaw tightens as well, his fingers finding purchase along the bone. It's a reminder that the gentle negotiation and communication are done now. He's in control again.

Then, with his hand gliding his foreskin down the length of his cock, he guides himself to your waiting mouth.

Which snaps shut.

Instead, he nudges into your closed lips, your last defense against what is about to happen—and your last bit of defiance as well. Despite wanting to make this easier on yourself, you know he'll enjoy it far more if it isn't.

He growls in frustration, and an involuntary shiver whorls its way up your spine.

He prods against you again, harder this time and with hope you'll be good. That you'll behave and open up for him. When you don't, the exposed tip of him drags across the seam of your mouth, leaving a smear of precome behind. There's a snarl from above you. Then his fingers dig into your jaw and his thumb presses against your cheek where your teeth are clenched together, as if he's trying to pry you open like an oyster. As if wants to be inside of you so badly and knows how close he is to getting it that he doesn't think to scold you first. All he can do is take.

It's better than you imagined.

You part your lips to moan, and he uses the opening to force the head of his cock into your mouth with an exhale of relief.

You're grateful he stops there.

You're fully aware you could be choking on his cock instead, so you quickly close your lips around him. Then you begin to swirl your tongue over him and lap at his leaking tip in apology for misbehaving. At this angle, you can't quite tease the sensitive underside, but the effect it has on him is still immediate. He groans and slides further into you, forcing you to open wider until the shaft of his erection is resting along your tongue. You suck and lick at him with even more enthusiasm, which earns you a surprised hiss as he sucks in a breath. You know then any lingering anger at your disobedience has dissipated under the attention.

He starts out rocking gently at first, barely getting deeper with each thrust. What he's actually doing is holding back— letting you acclimate because a part of him is still worried about hurting you or pushing you too hard. It's unnecessary, you think as you grunt in frustration. It's only making the anticipation worse.

You stretch forward and squeeze your lips hard around him, increasing the depth and pressure as he thrusts in. He lets out a long groan and twitches against your tongue.

"You want me to hurry up and fuck you?" He teases. Though the effect is ruined by the rough, breathy tone of his voice. You can tell he's already enjoying this.

You hum around him in affirmation. That's exactly what you want.

"That's my girl." Then he plunges himself part of the way into your throat.

You choke immediately and your hands scramble in instinctive panic along the mattress at the intrusion. 'It's too much!' You think. You can't do this. But then your rational mind kicks in and reminds you that you're safe. You can breathe. He won't give you more than you can handle. You can stop this if you need to. So you take a deep breath through your nose and force yourself to relax your hands and your body—but most importantly your throat.

"There you go, pet. Just breathe." When he thrusts in again, a bit deeper this time, you tense, but you don't panic. "Just like that," he growls.

His grip on your jaw tightens. Before, his hands were keeping you steady and grounded as he worked his way up to fucking you. Now he's holding your face still while he uses your throat. There's a painful swelling and throb of need between your legs at the thought.

"Oh, fuck," he moans. "God, you feel incredible." He pulls out all the way, momentarily giving you relief so you can suck in deep breaths of air. A thread of spit trails obscenely from your lips to the tip of his erection. Your tongue darts out to lick it away, drawing a little gasp as he stares down at you. Then you nod to let him know you're okay, and he slams into you again with a deep groan, making your eyes water.

"Look at how well you're taking my cock," he says through gritted teeth. "You're so good for me."

Your nails dig into the vinyl material of your mattress in elation at the praise.

"I've wanted to bury myself in your mouth since you were on your knees in front of me last night. But this is so much better. God, the way those beautiful lips of yours are stretched around me."

His hand wraps around your throat, the large expanse of his palm engulfing the column of your neck. You feel bird-boned beneath the strength in that grip, in his fingers, conscious of the fact that he could squeeze the life from you if he wanted and there is nothing you could do to stop him. The thought is arousing. Not the flirtation with death, but the complete certainty—the absolute, unshakable trust—that he won't.

But he's not choking you with his hand or digging those thick fingers into your flesh. He's feeling where he's moving within your throat—proof of how deeply buried inside of you he truly is. You swallow around him, letting your muscles work his length, and a groan is wrenched from his chest. The vibration of it curls down through your stomach and settles into your core.

He pulls out completely again, giving you another reprieve. Though his hand stays wrapped around your neck. His touch still isn't smothering—it's possessive. It's as if he's claiming you. Reminding you of who you belong to.

As if you could forget.

Everything about this act should be filthy. It should be messy, unrestrained lust as he takes, nothing but need and force. And it is all of those things, but at the center of it and driving this forward is raw intimacy. Your body's response to him in this moment rivals looking into his eyes as he says he loves you.

Because this is something that he's wanted. He craved the feeling of the act itself, yes, but you know it's more than that. It's the thrill that your trust and submission gives him. The power over you. That you would let him use you in this way is proof of your devotion.

So you give yourself to him, and your heart flutters with every noise that spills from his lips. Every gasp and shudder, more than physical pleasure. It's a satisfaction that you feel deep in the core of your being.

And then he does squeeze.

"If I put pressure, it makes your throat—" he pauses to groan as he drives in, "—so much fucking tighter for me."

Your eyes clench shut as you feel your gag reflex kick back in at the extra force. The muscles in your throat clamp down around him and your hands grope at his legs. Just when you think you can't take anymore and are on the verge of panicking, his grip relaxes. Then he pulls out just far enough to ease your panic.

His thumb skims reassuringly over the crook of your neck as you breathe through your nose and get your bearings again. He didn't give you more than you could handle, you tell yourself, just like he promised. Once you're properly calm, you tap against his thigh to let him know he can continue.

"Good girl," he grunts, his hips jerking forward to meet your lips. "You're being so very, very good."

His continued praise sends a rush of heat between your thighs, reminding you of your own neglected arousal. Your hips begin to writhe eagerly along the mattress, seeking any sort of friction or sensation—a response which does not go unnoticed.

"Touch yourself," he orders. "I want to watch while I fuck you."

You obey by reaching blindly between your legs and cupping a hand over your mound. Even that small bit of pressure is enough to send a shudder through you. You can barely see his face around his cock now, but you see enough to know his attention has shifted from your mouth to your lower half.

With a firm, deliberate touch, you rub along your slit and the rhythm of his thrusts falters. So you repeat the movement, this time rolling your hips to meet your fingers and dragging higher until—finally—you brush against your clit.

He growls and ruts into you.

"I love your mouth. I love watching you suck my cock. But there is nothing in the entire Galaxy better than being in your cunt," he says in a low rumble.

You want that. You want that so badly. Your fingers speed up and you let out a whimper.

"You like the thought of that?" You lift your hips a few inches off the bed as your fingers tease and dip into your entrance, hoping to get a reaction from him. He plunges deep in response. "Want me to fuck you properly?"

You can't make any sounds with him in your throat again, but you need him to know how much you want it. So instead you pull your knees up higher and spread them wide, putting yourself on display for him—to tempt him while you greedily finger yourself.

"Look at your pretty hole. So wet and desperate for me." His thrusts are starting to get rough, which is making your eyes water. "Just from my cock in your mouth."

He's also starting to sound tense and distracted, and you're worried he's going to end up too far gone to stop. That he won't actually fuck you. In one last desperate attempt to get him between your legs, you drag your fingers along your folds and spread yourself open, giving him a full view of exactly where you want him.

It's finally the last straw because, without saying a word, he pulls out so quickly that you nearly choke again and takes a half step back.

You lay there, catching your breath. Your eyes are red rimmed and watery, your lips are swollen from the pressure around his cock, and there's drool all over your face—even up to your nose. You're a mess, but he gazes down at you in reverence. As if you were something sacred. Even as you cough and gasp for air, you can see every bit of love he has for you in the blue of his eyes.

"Kino—" You try to speak, but it comes out hoarse from so much abuse.

"You're stunning," he whispers, either oblivious to your struggle to talk or because of it. "You were so good for me and gave me everything I wanted."

If you weren't already burning and sweaty, you would be hot faced with pride. You swallow a few times, getting the muscles to relax back into place. Then you clear your throat before trying again. Your voice is still strained, but it's strong enough now that you can push through the tightness and the pain. "Kino, please fuck me. I've been desperate for you since this morning. Please." Your voice cracks, breaking from the new use.

"But you're doing such a lovely job of begging..." He places a hand to the side of your face, enveloping your cheek in his palm. Despite how much you want to give in and nuzzle into his touch and place tiny kisses along his fingers, you roll over and push yourself to your hands and knees instead.

"I can beg more, if that's what it takes." You raise up so you're eye level with him. There's a slight flare to his nostrils and you can tell he likes the thought of that.

He tilts his head to the side and waits.

You shuffle forward over the now sweat slick mattress to the edge of the bed. Then you bring your face close to his, your mouths hovering barely an inch apart. "Please," you breathe against his lips, "I want your cock inside of me so badly." You reach down and take hold of one of his wrists. He doesn't resist as you guide his hand between your legs. "Feel how much I want you."

He draws a fingertip over your damp folds and you let out a gasp. His eyes grow heavy and his lips part with desire. You know he's thinking about how good it would feel to slide his cock into that wet heat. You're so close to getting him to snap.

"See?" You let go of his wrist to run your hands up his chest, along his neck, until you're tracing your fingers over the stubble on his jaw. "All for you."

You finally close the distance to capture his lips in a hungry kiss. With a growl, he wraps his arms around you and crushes you flush against him to kiss you back. Soon the two of you are a tangled mess of limbs and tongues, and one of his hands has found its way down your back to squeeze your ass.

You pull far enough away to sob out, "God, I need you!"

He quickly brings both of his hands down to grasp the backs of your thighs. Then he pulls you off balance and lifts you off the bed. You gasp in surprise, latching onto his shoulders to keep from tilting sideways. But when he settles your legs on either side of him, you instinctively encircle his hips and hook your ankles behind his back. Then you squeeze, bringing the two of you together until his cock is pinned between his belly and your sex.

"Oh fuck, Kino," you whine and squirm in his arms. "Make love to me."

He shifts his hands under your ass so he can lift you higher, his length sliding against your folds as he does, until the tip of him is right at your entrance.

"Say it again," he demands, his voice harsh and rough. "Beg."

"Fuck me," you plead. "Please fuck me!"

He lowers you down, gravity doing most of the work for you, and then he's sliding into you. Your walls stretch and grip around him as you envelope his cock, and you both let out echoing moans into the space between you. When you bottom out, his hands grab at your ass as his hips press forward, trying to get deeper still.

"I love when you beg," he rasps out. "So needy for me."

"Always!"

Your legs flex and brace as you ride him. Your only support is your own hands clinging to his shoulders and his hands cupped under your ass, lifting you up with every roll of your hips. Some distant part of your brain wishes you could see his arms right now. Could watch the way his muscles flex as he forces you to keep moving onto his cock. You moan at the thought.

Another part of you wishes there was a decent wall in your cell that he could shove you against as he fucked you. Because, while it feels incredible to have him inside of you, you're struggling to keep your grip and your pace, and it's using nearly every muscle in your body to do so. Muscles which are starting to burn.

And you need more.

He must feel it too because without warning, he takes a step forward and slams you back down on the bed. The wind is forced from your lungs at the impact along your shoulder blades, but before you can catch your breath, he starts pounding into you at a relentless pace. His hands grip your hips, his fingers dimpling your flesh as he forces you to meet every one of his thrusts. Your sweat covered body jolts and slides along the vinyl.

"Are you ready to finally come?"

You nod, dizzy from the combination of hitting the mattress and the way his hips are crashing into yours.

"I want to hear you say it," he growls.

"Yes, Kino," you whimper out, making a needy little noise in your throat. "Please. Please make me come."

"Good girl." Before you can react to that, he groans and collapses forward, his hand catching his weight on the mattress before he crushes you. The angle changes into something delicious. Electricity arcs through your belly as every thrust meets your clit. "I'm gonna take care of you."

Then he buries his face into the crook of your neck as his hips rock into you. Every part of you feels surrounded and consumed by him. Like he could melt into you. You close your arms around him and tighten your legs on his waist, trying to speed the process along.

"I want to feel how much you've needed my cock." His voice rolls over you like gravel. "I want to come with your cunt squeezing me. Let go for me."

You've been teetering on that edge for what feels like hours after carrying this morning's interruption throughout the whole day. Now with his hands grasping at you, his hips rolling into yours, his breath on your skin—you let go. Your head falls back against the mattress and your lips part in a strangled cry as your climax engulfs you, making your vision blur and your toes curl. All of your nerve endings are reduced to static.

"Oh, fuck, you feel so good!" He buries himself as deep as he can get—desperate to feel the way your walls pulse around his cock—and then he tenses while you continue to grind mindlessly against him. A second later, he lets out a low groan right into your ear as he throbs and comes inside of you, which sets you quivering further. As his release subsides, he jerks and grunts a few more shallow thrusts into you, chasing every last bit of pleasure from your wet heat.

When both of you are finally spent, he stays bent over you, gasping and panting into your neck.

You could lay there with him forever, nuzzling back into him and feeling his heartbeat where his chest is pressed against yours—but too soon he's pulling away. You open your mouth to protest.

"It's alright, Pet," he says reassuringly. He scoops your legs up and maneuvers you lengthwise along the bed to make room for both of you. Then he climbs in next to you before flopping down on his back, exhausted.

You lay curled against his side, your leg tangled with his, your head resting on his shoulder and tucked under his chin, his arm slung around you and holding you close. His other hand wanders over your jaw, your cheek, down the length of your arm—supplying you with gentle, loving touches everywhere he can reach. Meanwhile, your fingertips tease patterns through the hair on his chest, stopping only to press over a little freckle on his sternum.

"Are you upset about last night?" You finally ask quietly, breaking the comfortable silence of your shared afterglow. You haven't spoken about this yet. You've wanted to, but there hasn't been a perfect moment to bring it up until now. Now that the ever persistent itch for him has been quieted to a whisper.

His hand stills where it's stroking the side of your neck and your entire body follows suit, tense with worry. He doesn't say anything, though. Instead he moves a finger to your chin and urges you to look at him. You hesitate before meeting his eyes, but there's no anger or disappointment in them. The stare he's giving you is pensive.

"No, pet. I'm not upset." He releases your chin. Then he shifts to caress the shell of your ear with the rough pads of his fingertips and sweep his thumb across your cheek. "Did you think I would be?"

"Yes," you respond truthfully. You didn't realize just how anxious you'd been about this until the knot in your stomach loosens at his words. "Not at me, but in general. I know how important it is that you maintain the floor."

"I was at first. Mostly from embarrassment." He lets out a chuckle that rumbles through his chest beneath your palm, and then he sighs. "But Threl was brutally honest about every detail. He told me what people heard and how they reacted. And as I thought about it throughout the day, I realized it didn't matter. We have to be careful in the future, of course, but the rest of it? As long as I have you, I can handle the rest of it."

"Kino," you breathe out softly, touched by his admission. You hook your arm across his belly and pull yourself closer against him.

"I realized something else, too," he continues. "The work matters, but only to a point. It's the people on this shift that truly matter. Their safety and humanity matter. Not this place. Not the parts or the rules. I forgot that for a while. I lost sight of it through my own anger and frustration and became a very bitter, selfish man who thought only of himself."

You frown as you look up at him. "You weren't selfish. A hardass, yeah, but never selfish."

"That's sweet of you to say, but I was." He shakes his head to stop you from protesting further. "I wanted the numbers and order so they would leave us alone and I could get out of here. I didn't care if people suffered in the process. I thought it was better than the alternative. In reality, I was just doing their dirty work for them, and what does that make me?"

You have no easy response for him. You know what he's implying, that his compliance made him just as bad as the people keeping you all here, but the answer is far more complex than that. He's not taking into account that he's a victim, too. You hope one day you can help work through it and ease some of his guilt. But for now, you nestle against him and continue to offer him your silent comfort and support.

"But they're wrong. I was wrong. Fear and misery aren't sustainable. And like I told you before, I've seen how much of a difference morale makes. Our numbers are actually better now." His hand moves while he talks, gesturing broadly to the air. "That's why I let the tables talk more than they used to. That's why I let people laugh a little more often in the locker room and in the hallway, as long as it doesn't get out of hand. That's why I didn't put a stop to pushing the cell limit. As long as our numbers are good, why should we sacrifice everything to this place? They can have our labor, but the rest should belong to us." He presses a firm kiss against your temple, letting his lips linger so his words come out soft and slightly muffled when he says, "You helped me remember that."

"God, Threl was right." By now there are tears in your eyes and your voice is thick with emotion. He's fucking incredible and you can't believe he's yours.

He adjusts to get a better look at you. "Right about what?"

"I've softened you."

He huffs out a small laugh. "I suppose you have."

As you stare back at him—take in the stubble of his beard, the warmth in his eyes, and the lines on his face—all you can think is that you want to spend the rest of your life with this man. You want him in your arms and between your legs as you submit to him. You want his hands on you, both harsh and sweet. You want to fall asleep and wake up next to him every day. You want him to continue surprising you like this, no matter what your circumstances are.

You've both said your I love yous and alluded to a future together, but you no longer want anything left unsaid. You've been there before—unsure if he wanted you, unsure if he loved you, and afraid to ask. You never want to live with doubt again where he's concerned.

You sit up on the bed and give him a hard stare. "We need to have a serious conversation."

He frowns back at you. "I thought that's what we were doing?"

"Yes, but there's another serious conversation we need to have."

"Alright," he says hesitantly.

You take a slow, deep breath to prepare yourself, intending to approach this delicately, but your impatience wins. So instead you blurt out, "How many shifts do you have left?"

There's a flash of mild surprise on his face. "Why?"

"Just answer the question." At his raised eyebrow, you add in a soft, "Please."

"Three hundred and sixty two." He sighs heavily through his nose.

"I've got six hundred and eighty left on my two year sentence."

"Alright. So?"

"So that means in less than two years both of us will be out. Only…you'll get out first."

"Say what it is you want to say." There's a hint of impatience to his voice, and you have to wonder if he's nervous about the direction of this conversation. 'That makes two of us,' you think.

"What I mean is…did you mean everything you've said to me?" God, his eyes are so blue. Like sky. Like leaping out of the door of a moving transport and falling, weightless, through atmosphere. Your voice lowers to a whisper. "Will you wait for me, Kino?"

For a second he doesn't respond, just stares at you with that deep frown while your heart pounds a frantic rhythm against your ribcage. You think you've fucked up somehow or broken the illusion of what this is by giving voice to it beyond the hypothetical, whispered in moments of desperation and ecstasy. You want to say something to take it back, but then his lips are on yours and he's kissing the words and doubt out of your mind.

When he breaks the kiss, he rests his hand on your cheek and his forehead against yours while he catches his breath.

"You drive me crazy, you know that? Out on the floor, in the hall, and especially in this bed." He sighs as he pulls away to meet your eyes. "Of course I meant it. I meant every lust filled nonsense you've ever dragged out of me."

"Including wanting to spend the rest of your life fucking me as often as possible?" You give him a small grin.

"Especially that," he says in that low gravel.

"Good," you whisper. "Then we're going to get out of here and we're going to do just that. Like you said, this place doesn't fucking matter. This is temporary. But you aren't. Not for me."

"You aren't either. I told you that you belonged to me." His voice lowers possessively as he lightly kisses your cheek, his hot breath tickling your skin. "That you're mine. Never doubt how much I mean that."

Your eyelashes flutter in bliss. "Then when we're apart, I want you to remember that I intend to always find my way straight back into your arms the first chance I get. And I'm never leaving."

"Good. And I want you to remember that when you do, I'm going to spend every moment I can buried between your legs." When you laugh, he gives you a fake, stern look and grumbles out, "I'm serious!"

"I know you are!" You continue to chuckle.

"Then why are you laughing?" He drags his hand down your back, over the curve of your ass, until it settles on the back of your thigh. Then he pulls you closer so he can kiss his way down your neck.

Your laughter quickly turns into a gasp. "Because I'm trying to stop myself from getting too worked up because the floor's going to be hot soon."

He grunts in frustration against your shoulder. "I didn't think I could hate this place more than I already do."

"Why? Were you thinking about fucking me again?" You bite your lip to stifle a moan as his stubble scratches across your skin.

"Of course I am," he growls and thrusts his hips towards you, grinding his hardening erection into your groin.

"Fuck," you whimper as arousal pools in your belly. "I hate this place, too."

He shifts far enough that his cock is resting directly over your sex. "How much longer?" He asks in a husky rumble.

You quickly crane your head to look at the little display in your cell. Then your stomach drops at the time. "Twelve minutes, so realistically nine or ten minutes."

He starts to rut against you as you gasp and moan, but his movement is half-hearted at best. It's as if he's holding back because he's debating with himself about whether or not that's enough time to finish anything he starts—to fully take care of you the way he wants. But before you can wrap your leg around his waist and rock back into him, his hips still and he slumps against you, resigning himself to the fact that it isn't.

You're frustrated that he stopped because it was just starting to feel so good, but you're also relieved it didn't go further so you weren't left a desperate, wanting mess, just on the edge of release. Again. Part of you is surprised he didn't take advantage of the fact that he could do just that. He does enjoy leaving you in a ruined state with orders not to touch yourself or alleviate that need, after all. But you're not about to protest.

Instead, he untangles himself from your limbs, gently moving them to the side, and sits up on the bed. "If I had more time, pet…" He says regretfully.

"I know," you sigh and sit up next to him, your legs dangling over the side of the mattress.

He reaches out to hold your chin in his thick fingers. Then he traces your lips with the pad of his thumb. "I'll make it up to you."

"You always do." You give it a feather light kiss before looking at him in adoration.

"I don't just mean tomorrow. Someday I'll get the chance to make up for all of it." He's staring down at your lips, his eyelids heavy with a lingering heat, but there's also a tenderness to his expression that sets your chest aching. "You deserve more than this, and I plan to give it to you."

Your heart and your core flutter at the implication. "God, I love you."

"I love you, too." Then he's getting up off the bed to start getting dressed while you sit there, reeling from everything and trying to will your wobbly legs to cooperate when you stand up.

As he's pulling his pants up past his hips and settling them on his waist, he says, "I'm going to come here early tomorrow, if that's okay."

You look up at him in shock, your own pants frozen for a moment over your knees before you finish yanking them up. He rarely shows up early, and he's never actively planned to do so before. This is new, and, therefore, very exciting. "Yeah. Of course it is."

"After dinner?" He bends over to grab his uniform top from the floor, giving it a shake to unfurl the fabric, oblivious to the way that you're practically melting at the thought of getting to spend twice as much time with him.

"I'd really like that," you say softly.

"Good." He stops talking long enough to pull his shirt on. "Because I want to finally see if I can come inside of you twice in one night."

"Oh my god," you moan. The lust that had been slowly diminishing at the thought of spending quality time with him is violently—painfully—rekindled. "So much for not getting too worked up."

He looks pleased with your reaction and gives you a teasing smile. "I take it you like the thought of that?"

"You know I do." You take a step towards him. "I especially love the thought of doing everything I can to make you."

He closes the gap between you and holds you by your hips. "Yeah? I bet that pretty little cunt of yours could make me."

"Fuck!" You whimper. "You have to leave before I rip my clothes back off."

"No," he says, and there's an edge to his voice. "You're going to control yourself for me until tomorrow. Aren't you?"

"Yes, Kino." You can't help but yield immediately to that tone.

"And you're going to behave."

"I will." You nod. "I promise."

"That's my good girl." He leans in to kiss you as your knees turn to rubber. "Because I would be awfully disappointed if I had to punish you instead."

You let out a sob at the thought of missing out on the reward he's now planted in your mind. And what he would consider an equal punishment. "Yes, Kino."

A/N: Truthfully, I stepped outside of my comfort zone to write this chapter and it's yet another thing that slowed me down to a glacial pace. I have never attempted to write anything like it before and I wanted to try something new, but I constantly felt like I got in over my head (hehehehe). I was worried it would be disappointing. Instead it took me over 6 months to update and I disappointed you all that way instead. 😎👉👉 But I got over my block and I fucking did it! 🥳🥂🍾 Just don't ask me when the neck chapter will be done. I'm absolutely working on it and a chunk is written, but I will also be out of town every single weekend and one full week this October. But I'm hoping it'll be this month 🤞

After you say your goodbyes and he leaves your cell, you know there are only a finite number of these partings left. 'Remember, this is temporary,' you tell yourself. But as you watch him disappear into the hallway and around the corner, you realize knowing that doesn't make every single time it happens hurt any less. It's just the pain that's temporary.

#kino loy #kino loy x reader #kino loy x f!reader #x reader #i want you to show me weak fic #andor fanfiction #andor #fanfiction #andy serkis

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keeperofthebees · 1 year

Text

Tony Gilroy I hate you.

KINO LOY. he knew the place was surrounded by water. he knew he couldn't escape. he relied on finishing his sentence because that's all he could do. that's his one way out. and he learns that there is no way out. he is doomed. was doomed from the start. was doomed the second he got looked at by an officer. he's dead already. he can't give the speech. he's not getting out. but he is the leader. he's relied on. by Cassian. by the prisoners. so he has to. he gives the speech. and he runs with them. and he gets there and he knows. and Cassian asks him what's wrong. he smiles after he says he can't swim because he knew this would happen and he hates that this happened and he wanted to live but there was no chance he could. there was nothing he could do. he needed to get the others out even though he never would.

there was one way out. the only one he couldn't take.

#andor #im throwing up #screaming crying yelling #andor spoilers #sw: andor #star wars andor #kino loy #im thinking so hard

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ospreyeamon · 1 year

Text

green shoots of rebellion

It’s interesting how obviously the Rebel Alliance and its members are still getting their feet under them during Andor. There are a lot of people who hate the empire but getting them mobilised and organised is proving tricky, and not just because most of the work must be done on the sly. Luthen Rael is a master spy (and I think Kleya Marki is too, though her great skills lie in logistics rather than shooting people) but most of the other rebels are newer to the world of espionage.

Mon Mothma is a great actor and a great talker, but she lacks the financial know-how to disguise her illicit funding of the rebellion against any serious scrutiny. Mon, being a genuinely honest politician, has never engaged in shady financial shenanigans before. Because she took up the role of Senator at sixteen, she has never worked in other fields like banking. She compensates for her weakness using her strengths; she correctly identifies Tay Kolma as someone who will be both able and willing to help her, scopes him out, and brings him in. Recruiting and fostering connections for the rebellion using diplomacy are two of the main skills Mon has to contribute to the later rebellion; she’s almost certainly the one who pulled in Vel Sartha and in Andor where the Rebel Alliance is very obviously the Rebel Alliance it’s clear how a diplomat would end up as the official leader. It’s just that Mon can’t bring those strengths to bear while she’s pinned down by the ISB.

Mon’s cousin Vel has obviously done some serious special forces training and can plan, fight, and infiltrate with the best of them – but Aldhani is the first major mission she’s led, and it shows. When the time comes to give the command to go beyond the point of no return, Vel freezes up. It’s a problem Vel will be less and less likely to encounter the more experience in the field she has, but it demonstrates the rebels are lacking in seasoned squad leaders if they are trusting crucial missions to inexperienced ones.

The rebellion is drawing in a lot of new people during this period. Every prisoner who escaped Narkina Five did so radicalised. The empire tightening its grip on worlds drives them towards the rebellion. But the thing about having a lot of new green recruits is that somebody needs to train them and the mix of skills they bring won’t necessarily be the mix the rebels need.

I think this is why Luthen is so keen to recruit Cassian – so keen he takes risks that might lead to his exposure trying to pull Cassian further into the Rebel Alliance. While Cassian only becomes willing to go all in with the rebellion in the final quarter of the season, he has been rebelling for most of his life in one form or another which means he has a lot of experience. He can pilot, he can lie, he can fight. He successfully pulled off a solo infiltration of an imperial naval base and walked out with a Starpath Unit without the imperials realising he was there. For Aldhani, where Vel’s team needs to make it in as far as they can without detection, the addition of a practiced infiltrator is invaluable.

Cassian is also comfortable playing second in command rather than feeling the need to be in charge. He’s happy to contradict Vel and challenge the heist plan, but he never tries to wrestle leadership of the team away from her. He turns the announcement system over to Kino Loy because he thinks Kino is a better speaker than him. Even with the ISB after him, Cassian is a great choice to be shuffled around and slotted into teams to provide backup as needed. Eventually, that has potential to have rebels from a collection of separate cells know and trust him so Cassian could persuade them to unite as a cohesive force as the conflict with the empire escalates into a full-blown war.

#Meanwhile in a Galaxy Far Far Away #star wars meta #Mon Mothma #Vel Sartha #Cassian Andor #the Rebel Alliance #star wars andor #andor spoilers

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sky-kenobye · 3 months

Note

when you get this ask you have to answer with 5 of your fav songs and then send this ask to 10 of your followers !!

I went waaayyyyy overboard here, so here's my 50 favorite songs instead lmao sorry (20 of those are instrumental music though).

I put it under the cut and sorted by different categories:

(There's a star wars category at the end)

English (the language, I don't know about the countries)

- Voulez-Vous, by ABBA

- '74-'75, by The Connells

- Take Me Home, Country Roads, by John Denver

- I'm still standing, by Elton John

- It's my life, by Bon Jovi

- Civil War, by Guns & Roses

- The Chain, by Fleetwood Mac

- You're So Vain, by Carly Simon

- The song of Silence, by Disturbed (the original too but I like this one better)

- Another Sunny Day, by Belle and Sebastian

- Because the night, by Patti Smith

- It's a Sin, by Pansy Division

- Any Other Way, by We The Kings

- The Story, by Sara Ramirez (the version from Grey's Anatomy)

- Dream On, by Aerosmith

- Children of The Sky, by Imagine Dragons

- Happy Ending, by Mika

Disney/musicals

- Speechless, by Naomi Scott (from Aladdin)

- Show Yourself, by Idina Menzel (from Frozen 2)

- I'll make a man out of you, from Mulan

- Friends Never Say Goodbye, by Elton John (from Road to Eldorado)

- Never Enough, by Loren Allred (from The Greatest Showman)

French

- Amour Censure, by Hoshi

- Kid, by Eddy de Pretto

- Dans les yeux d'Émilie, by Joe Dassin

- Mourir Sur Scène, by Dalida

- Pour que tu m'aimes encore, by Céline Dion

- Je te promets, by Johnny Hallyday

- Ce soir, by Amir

Instrumental

- Honoring the dead, by Marc Steitenfeld (from The Wolf's Call)

- Red & Black light, by Ibrahim Maalouf

- Fate has smiled upon us, by Marc Steitenfeld (from Robin Hood)

- The Landing, by Justin Hurwitz (from First Man)

- Victory, by Two Steps From Hell

- The Winner is, by DeVotchKa (from Little Miss Sunshine)

- Alan Turing's Legacy, by Alexandre Desplat (from The Imitation Game)

- the Main Theme from Europa Universalis IV

- Arrival to Earth, by Steve Jablonsky (from Transformers)

- Above and Beyond, by Audiomachine

- Into Eternity, by Brian Tyler (from Thor 2)

- Il Mostro, by Ashram

- Shattered Empire, by Secession Studios

- Conquest of Paradise, by Vangelis (from 1492)

- Arrival of the Birds, by the cinematic orchestra

Star Wars

- Ahsoka is ready, by Kevin Kiner (from Tales of the Jedi)

- My name is Kino Loy, by Nicholas Britell (from Andor)

- Battle of the Heroes & Up is Down (epic version), by Samuel Kim

- The Hyperspace Jump, by Kevin Kiner (from Ahsoka)

- Memory (star wars style), by Whitney Avalon

- Order 66 Theme Epic Version, by Samuel Kim

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eriexplosion · 1 year

Text

Cut for Andor interview related spoilers though the post is mostly about Technology Bad Batch

I still think the funniest thing is that several reddit bros were using Kino Loy as an example of how a death could be totally offscreen and still be clear and confirmed therefore Tech was dead and then Serkis casually confirmed in an interview that Kino was alive actually and I don't think anyone ever backtracked it or reconsidered they just stopped mentioning it.

#eri talks

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dindjarindiaries · 1 year

Note

In case Kino did end up not making it (I hope that someone helped him or he somehow managed to escape some other way) I am totally okay with them going the "somehow Kino Loy returned" route.

Oh absolutely. The Star Wars twitter admin was SICKKKK for tweeting a picture of a floatie yesterday, though 😭

#UNHINGED!!!#kino loy #andor #andor series #andor spoilers #you have spoken

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andorshitdaily · 9 months

Text

Wandor Wednesday Wars, Vol. 2 - Hot dog eating contest

It's about to get weird.

Fight club was fun but it got a bit intense, so this time around we are going silly. I'd venture to say there will be no "right" answers this time, but I'm sure there would be objections to that.

Anyway, some hot dog eating contest rules which are super official and come from the good folks at the Nathan's Hot Dog Eating Contest:

Each competitor has 10 minutes to eat as many hot dogs as possible

Ketchup and mustard are not permitted (doesn't say anything about other condiments though, so let your brains run wild if you want)

Competitors can separate the hot dogs from the buns but must eat an equal amount for them to be counted

Competitors are allowed to dunk the hot dog and bun in water for as many as five seconds

No utensils are allowed

Any eater who vomits during the competition is disqualified (I'd say this is the most important one to keep in mind!)

Are any of these actually relevant to what we're doing? Probably not, but I looked it up so you're getting it anyway.

Basically all you need to decide for our purposes is which of the two characters would be able to eat the most dogs and buns in 10 minutes.

Now, to the bracket:

The completely random first-round matches include:

Luthen Rael vs. Leida Mothma

Maarva Andor vs. Cassian Andor

Linus Mosk vs. Dhani Chieftain

Arvel Skeen vs. Cinta Kaz

Jezzi vs. Perrin Fertha

Mon Mothma vs. Gorn

Eedy Karn vs. Gorst

Blevin vs. Jayhold Beehaz

Kino Loy vs. Taramyn Barcona

Ruescott Melshi vs. Vel Sartha

Wilmon Paak vs. Brasso

Time Grappler vs. Partagaz

Karis Nemik vs. Bix Caleen

Clem Andor vs. Pre-Mor Officer #3

Kleya Marki vs. Saw Gerrera

Syril Karn vs. Dedra Meero

Thank you to everyone who sent in suggestions for new competitors, and special thanks to Turbo Dogs for sponsoring this event! (real)

#wandor wednesday wars #andor #how do we feel about these matchups?#that last one is so funny to me. so glad to see it #i have thoughts on that one

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hegodamask · 2 years

Note

Kino Loy is Andy Serkis' redemption arc for Snoke (and I say this as a Snoke apologist ahjdhjd)

a snoke apologist??? in my ask box?????

nah seriously though, love to see andy serkis in star wars. but andor proves he was just so wasted as snoke.

#theastonishingantman #ask

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