#you gotta be compliant and nice and stop resisting

[vole-mon-amour]

tags by prev

the way s2 whitewashes vander is kind of vile, actually.

young vander's hands were just as bloody as silco's. he did not bring his gauntlets to a peaceful protest. he came to fight. then, at least, he understood that things would never improve if they simply waited around for their oppressors to give them rights and protections out of the goodness of their hearts.

even years later, his reputation precedes him. he runs a protection racket. he keeps his gauntlets hung above his bar as a reminder and a threat; he gets more than one situation to go his way through the not-so-subtle implication of violence.

but, arcane tells us, vander is a Good Man now. he has stopped directing his violence towards his oppressors, and now merely uses the threat of it to keep his own people in line. to make sure that topside is not disturbed.

i've seen people on the Social Medias crow about how vander gets a statue and how half of s2 is devoted to eulogising him, while silco is mourned by exactly 2 people for 5 minutes and then forgotten, and therefore, vander good, silco bad.

and you know what?

silco made the decision to engage in a ruthless gambit, using the only currency available to him: the lives of his own people. he dragged zaun behind him on a cruel climb on an ugly path towards a better destination, and he did not give a single shit about winning hearts and minds or mitigating harm while he did it... and he almost got there. he had an independence treaty for zaun on the table. and nobody in zaun ever knows this. topside keep it to themselves when it turns out to be more convenient to simply gas zaun into submission instead. silco got them the closest they had ever gotten - and the closest they are ever likely to get for the forseeable future - to true independence, and he did it without softness or kindness, and without thanks or glory or acknowledgement, and nobody will ever know. he dies in ignominy. he gets no statue.

vander won hearts and minds. vander was your friendly local gang leader & barman. vander said, "hey, let's all help each other out." vander said, "hey, let's just try to get by. just focus on one another, and not the big picture." vander was ashamed of what he saw as his complicity in the massacre on the day of ash, and decided he did not want to be responsible for something like that again. vander was available and approachable and personable and charismatic, and he used it to convince everyone that it was in their best interests to simply lay down, and stop resisting. vander gets a statue.

arcane says: he was a Good Man.

arcane says: be more like vander.

arcane says: hey. chill out. spend time with your family. try to just focus on getting from one day to the next. don't worry about the system.

stop resisting.

[corazondebeskar-reads]

you know you never stood a chance - chapter six

you know you never stood a chance series

six: hold me like a grudge

series masterlist | prev chapter | next chapter

qz!Joel Miller x f!reader

Words: 2.6k

Summary: After a tense situation, you reunite with Ellie and Joel.

Warnings: dub-con due to power imbalance, free use, sex as payment, vaginal sex, cum eating, Joel is mean/bad with feelings, this is not canon compliant, no use of y/n, degradation, canon-typical violence and danger, description of injury, spanking, pussy spanking, rough oral (m receiving)

also on ao3

dividers by @saradika-graphics

When the grass outside rustles underfoot, you flinch. You’ve been there for a while, long enough that the adrenaline started to seep out and leave you shaking in its wake.

The only reason you don’t shoot when you see a shadow is that Ellie takes the risk of speaking first.

“Hey, is that you?”

It’s so quiet, so careful. A sick part of you wants to stay silent, to hope they leave. But you’re forced to reckon with Joel’s evaluation of you: you’d never survive out here on your own. Probably wouldn’t even make it back to Boston, and then what? Get shot by FEDRA trying to get back in?

“Ellie?” you whisper back.

“Hey, Joel!” Ellie starts to yell, stopping when you shush her loudly from the garage.

You move, stepping closer to the frame where you can see her before moving into the light. She throws her arms around you, and you freeze, holding the gun pointed to the grass, too afraid to move.

“I know he’s an asshole, but don’t do that again,” she scolds, brow furrowed.

You’re thrown off guard but feel a rush of affection for the girl. “Sorry,” you say.

Joel comes out of the house from the back door and glowers at the two of you. “Inside,” he barks.

You follow behind Ellie as she rolls her eyes and prattles on about a large stick and what he should do with it.

He shuts the door behind you, clearly having scoped out the whole house before Ellie found you. He turns to her. “Upstairs.”

“What?”

“Upstairs, now,” he snarls.

She goes to protest but catches your eye.

“Please,” you say. You don’t want her to witness whatever he’s about to say to you.

When she’s gone, he rounds on you. “What the fuck were you thinking?”

You stare at the floor, lips twisted as you fight the urge to lash out.

He lifts your chin with his hand. “Huh? You listening to me?” He huffs out a laugh. “Clearly not, or we wouldn’t be here right now. We got one fuckin’ rule, do you remember?”

When you still don’t answer, he shakes your chin a little, jostling your jaw and drawing your glare to him.

“Well?” he says.

“Yes.”

“What is it?”

“Do as I’m fuckin’ told,” you mimic his drawl, poorly.

This wasn’t your first time out. After that night, when he fought with Tess, he dragged you with them on a supply run. It was fairly standard shit. Before you left the QZ, he had armed you—for appearances only, he reiterated, don’t touch those unless you’re gonna be ready to use them—and then told you the rule.

And you listened. Same shit, different place. He said drop, you’d drop. He said run, you’d run. Mostly, you just kept a nice resting bitch face in place so their contacts wouldn’t know you were an easy target.

“What am I gonna do with you, huh?” he says, still holding your face in place. He tugs the revolver from your other hand, not that you resist, and shoves it in his waistband.

“Just leave me here.”

“Shut up.”

“You asked me a question.”

“Yeah, and I expected a real answer, not a stupid one.”

You move to kneel, but he grabs you.

“Not a bad idea, sweetheart, but you gotta watch that ankle.”

The thought gives him pause, and you watch apprehensively as he considers things.

“We’re staying here today. You’re gonna rest that fuckin’ ankle, and we’ll get back on the road in the morning.”

Ellie is thrilled to discover you’ll be taking the day off in a place with real beds. She finds some old sudoku books and pencils and hangs out in “her” room.

True to his word, Joel makes you stay in bed all day. Your foot is propped up on a stack of pillows. You sulk, but he brings you a couple of books to choose from, a bottle of water, and some cold soup, just like getting sick back in the old days.

Actually, it’s a little too much like the old days. It makes you want to run. Instead, you let the historical nonfiction novels lull you in and out of a hazy sleep.

He comes to get you after nightfall. Ellie’s sound asleep, and he brings you into the room he had staked claim to.

“You ready to say sorry?”

“I’m sorry, Joel,” you mumble.

“What were you thinking?” He asks again. He’s softened since this morning, to your great relief.

“I’m tired of being your burden.”

“Is this ‘cause I don’t get to fuck you?”

“No. I mean, sort of. It’s bad enough that I can’t pay you out here. But then to be a risk, to create more trouble than just being a mouth to feed…”

He’s quiet for a minute. “Lay down on your back. Head over here,” he gestures to the end of the mattress.

The abrupt change is exhausting, but you do as you’re told. Once you’re lying there, head draped off the edge of the bed, he reaches down and takes his cock out. He has to bend his knees a little, being just tall enough over average to not quite fit together, but he slides into your mouth.

It’s so easy this way for him to press right into your throat.

You try to pour out your excess emotions, the residual fear, the relief, everything by finding purpose through his dick, but he pulls out when you try to get a hold of him.

“Not this time, sweetheart. You want me to take what ya owe me? Fine. I’m gonna use your throat as a fuckin cocksleeve.”

The words shouldn’t please you, but they do. The catharsis of the relief, the elation at being useful, and his touch all send you trembling.

“You better not cum,” he warns. “Not until I’m fillin’ ya up.”

You want to argue that he’s already filling you up, but a) he’s absolutely not in the mood, and b) well, he’s filling you up, so you can’t really speak.

Instead, you do the only thing you really can do. You lay there and take it. He lets you curl your hands around his thighs, holding on so you don’t go scooting up the mattress during the more aggressive thrusts. It lets you stabilize your head and tilt to an angle that grants just a little more air.

It’s rough in a way he hasn’t been before, which is saying something, but it’s also transcendental. Maybe you’re being dramatic, but you’re in the fucking clouds. You’ve never felt so light, so peaceful.

He pulls out abruptly, fingers squeezing the base of his cock as he pants. It’s still so close to you, so you use his legs to push upward and try to get it back in your mouth.

He swats at your cunt. “Quit it.”

You moan, the pain turning quickly into a tingle that spreads across your lips and clit. It worked, though, and you back off, now dangling half off the bed, only supported by your palms against the thick trunks of his thighs.

He scoops you up, an arm under each of yours, and pushes you back up on the mattress. “Hands ‘n knees,” he says.

You’re still feeling a little weird, so when you’ve gotten into position, you drag a pillow over and nuzzle your face down into it, arms threaded under it to hold it against you.

“You’re all cockdumb now, huh?” His hand traces over your lower back. You moan, a quiet, rumbly thing, and press back toward him.

He smacks your ass. “Hold still, pretty girl. Let me open you up.”

You don’t do more than drool and moan as he works his fingers into you, stretching you to ease his passage. His other hand stays on your lower back like a brand, an anchor. When he pulls his fingers out, he licks them clean before guiding his cock to where you’re dripping and aching for him.

He pushes in slowly, and you arch your back under his broad palm. He pushes you back down against the bed, hand settling between your shoulder blades and another wrapped in your hair.

“Stupid girl,” he grumbles. “Foolish little brat.”

Tears well up. It’s so much. Everywhere he touches you is past ignition, already licked clean by his flame, ash smoldering in the wake.

“Quiet,” he hisses, and you realize the soft little sounds permeating your dream were your moans and gasps. You bite your lip hard, face screwing up at the pain, but it works.

He doesn’t like that, though. He lets go of your hair and sighs, pulling out just to roll you onto your back before plunging back in and picking up the pace to take you apart. He pushes his thumb into your mouth, groaning as your teeth sink into the dry and calloused flesh, tethering you to the earth.

The sound of his hips slapping against you should be a bigger concern, but that would mean stopping or slowing down, and he doesn’t see that as an option. Instead, he watches as your blank eyes blink up at him, wet and wide, and your lips wrapped around his thumb.

“Christ. You really just need your holes filled, and suddenly, ya know how to be good. Fuckin’ slut.”

“Your fault,” you choke out, the words slammed out of you by his aggressive pounding. “Wasn’t—b-before.”

You wish you hadn’t said anything when he laughs again, dark and pleased with himself.

“Yeah, you’re right. Only a fuckin’ whore for me now, huh?”

Finally, finally, he touches you when he’s getting close, tugging the thumb from your mouth to rub the wet pad of it against your clit.

“You ready, sweetheart? Gonna cum on my cock, make me feel good?”

You whimper, nodding. “Yes, Joel, please.”

He works you to it until you break down, clenching around him so tight. He has to make himself pull out, his sex-addled brain screaming for him to bury himself deep in you. Instead, he covers your stomach.

You’re shaking through the aftershocks of your orgasm, and he rubs at your clit until you give him another one. It’s easy, you fall right apart, and then you’re practically limp, breasts heaving with the effort to breathe steadily.

He swipes a finger through his mess and brings it up to your mouth. You suck it clean, and he does it again until he’s fed you most of it. You take it each time, sucking and licking his finger, and watching him with wide eyes.

“You’re so fuckin’ sweet like this. Why can’t you just listen this good all the time?” It’s said softly, fondly, but it cuts you deep. He stands up, stretches, and leaves the room without another word.

You start to cry, burying your face in the pillow and holding your breath so he doesn’t hear. You’ve gotten good at this, over the decades, of choking down your weakness and swallowing it whole, letting it rip you up inside rather than out, so by the time he’s come back in the room, you’ve quieted.

You rub away any lingering tears with sleepy fists and a yawn.

“You think you can sleep with your ankle propped up?” he says when he crosses the room.

You nod, one fist still over your left eye, which won’t stop stinging, and sling your legs over the side of the bed, sitting up.

He catches your shoulder. “You’re stayin’ right here. Lay down, and I’ll set it up.”

Slowly, you settle back onto the bed. He must really not want you to walk on it if he’s going to trade rooms. Maybe the injury was worse than you thought.

The rest of his cum has dried, leaving a tacky residue on your stomach. He doesn’t wipe it clean, though; he never does anymore. Not worth wasting the water over, you think.

That’s what he tells himself, too.

The gentle hands you remember from so long ago have returned, delicately arranging pillows under your leg. You twist your top half to thank him, only to find him pulling back the blanket to slide into bed beside you.

It’s fully dark, now, when he presses a kiss into your hair and settles on his back beside you. Even through both of your shirts, you can feel the warmth of him where your back presses to him. He doesn’t hold you, but the closeness is enough to let you drift off to sleep.

The sun breaks through the bedroom windows before the birdsong wakes you. Joel is already awake when you roll over. This time, he does sneak his arm beneath you, pulling you to his chest.

You can’t breathe, too afraid the movement will fully wake him up. He’s never, not once, given you this much of him. You idly wish he hadn’t, because how were you supposed to live without it now?

“This is a nice quilt,” he says, shattering the silence before you work yourself into a panic. “Shame we gotta leave it here.”

“You get the stuff, and I’ll make you one when we get back.” Your voice is muffled in his shirt, too tense to pull away and properly look at him.

“Didn’t know you could sew.”

“I’m a woman of many talents, Miller. Sucking cock, basic sewing, annoying the hell outta you…” Aw, fuck. End of list. Oh well.

He chuckles, and you hate the way you can never tell if he’s laughing at your joke or laughing at you.

You fall back into quiet again, and when you think he might have dozed back off, you relax a little, letting your head find a home in the hollow where his arm meets his chest. “I’m sorry,” you whisper to his t-shirt.

“I know, sweetheart. Look, when we get home, if you want to leave, I won’t stop ya. But not out here. Not like this.”

“M’not leaving. I got a quilt to make, remember?”

He leans down and kisses the top of your head, resting that way for a moment with you drawn close.

Of course, the peace doesn’t last. Ellie bursts through the door, boundless energy as always, sending your already-racing heart into overdrive.

“—room is empty; what did you say to her? Couldn’t you just have been nice?”

Joel waits, staring at her blankly. You, however, have buried your face in his side. You’re both fully dressed, and there’s no evidence of anything, but you know she’s not stupid.

“Oh, ew, god, come on! What the fuck is wrong with you?” She’s backing out, pulling the door behind her, but her disgust carries down the hall.

Joel tilts your chin up with a curled finger. “At least we know she didn’t hear any of the other times I fucked ya.”

Your cheeks are on fire, and you can’t look him in the eye.

“It’s not like she walked in on us,” he teases.

“She’s never going to talk to us again,” you groan.

“She’ll get over it. If not, you can give her the talk.”

“Oh no. No, you can handle that.”

“Let’s let the Fireflies handle that,” he decides, scrubbing at his beard with one hand. He gets up, groaning. “Should make it to Bill’s today, even if we go slow.”

“Joel—”

“I know you’re not about to argue with me, right?”

Your mouth twists into a scowl, but you soften when you look up at him. The sun through the window is bathing him in yellow, and his brown eyes trip up your heart like they always do.

“No,” you say with a sigh. “I’ll follow you.”

He stops you before you leave the room, two fingers under your chin. “When we get to Bill’s, I’ll help you add another thing to that skillset of yours.”

“What?”

He hands you back the revolver you had stolen from the garage skeleton. “I’ll teach ya how to shoot.”

next chapter

*title from "Hold Me Like a Grudge" by Fall Out Boy

[crybabykiko]

Szn’s Creamings

Miya Osamu x Fem!Reader

Warnings: oof a lot sorry- eggnog(its delicious and you’re all just mean), corruption if you squint, clandestine sex I guess? Choking, fingering, oral (m & f receiving), nipple play, the Miya accent, improper use of Christmas decorations, bondage, unprotected sex(you should know to expect this from my writing by now), vaginal penetration, squirting, creampies/breeding, use of the word daddy like ONCE, cum eating, a dash of overstim for optimal flavor, ahegao (😌) aaaaand snowballing (aka spitting cum in someone’s mouth) swearing obviously ummmmm shit man idk anymore I’m 999% sure that’s it- good shit below da cut

Wc: 2.5k

A/N: Merry Christmas to those who celebrate, and a VERY Happy Holiday no matter your culture’s festivities! This is part of my collab with my lovely friends in The Sewer Server- @rat-suki ty anu for organizing it all! I’m love u. This fic was written in an eggnog & fireball induced  blackout, and is singlehandedly fueled by lust for Osamu’s Dorito body and my love for Steak n’ Shake.

Cheese-on’s Greetings Collab mlist here 🎄🎁🐁

“This... is it?” He cocked an eyebrow at the concoction, the red and green sprinkles bleeding dye into the whipped cream, the sad cherry on top sunken into it. 

“This is what you’ve been goin’ on about fer the last 3 weeks?” 

This- was an eggnog milkshake. A wintertime classic, and a staple at the local diner in your hometown. Simple enough. It didn’t look like much- in fact, it honestly wasn't. But to you, this shitty, artificially-flavored diner milkshake encompassed all the joys of holiday magic into one tall, frosted glass. You could count the years you spent in this diner, knocking them back. You’ve grown of course, but the nostalgia always stays the same. Having Osamu come to your hometown for the holidays was a pretty big step in your relationship, sure, but including him in the milkshake tradition usually reserved for your best friend? That was even bigger. 

“You haven’t even taken a sip, you ass,” you giggled, putting your own straw to your lips, reveling in the cool flavor that was coating your tongue. Pure sugar, just a hint of nutmeg and cinnamon- perfect as always. You pushed the glass over to him, urging him to try for himself. He took in a large drink, letting it rest before clicking his tongue a few times and looking over at your eyes- eyes that were aglow with anticipation and gingerbread men? No, that was just the reflection of the gaudy tinsel that adorned the booth you sat in. 

“Soooo?” 

“Not bad,” he sighed, pushing the glass back your way. Always anticlimactic. 

“But I could definitely make one that’s better.”

“I’d like to see you try,” you shot back, narrowing your eyes at him. 

One thing you knew he could never resist was a challenge. Grabbing his wallet, he slammed some bills on the table, whisking you away from the diner in 2 minutes flat, the milkshake an ever present memory, like that of the favorite Christmas gift from childhoods passed. You didn’t think he’d take it that seriously, but you also knew that Osamu took everything- especially food- seriously.

Even still, the drive back to your parents’ was a calm one, like every night adventure. The only difference was the bitter cold in the air, and the soft crooning of songs about Santa Claus on the radio. The only thing was- you just couldn’t stop pressing your thighs together….

“Put it away, sir.” you said jokingly, shifting your current position on the couch. Miracle on 34th Street shown on the small screen of the television as you flicked through what seemed like every Christmas movie ever made with the remote.  The feeling of his cock starting to stiffen at your back told you everything you needed to know; that Osamu wasn’t interested in whether or not Santa Claus was real, or  whatever the ‘true’ meaning of Christmas was- he was solely interested in the meaning of that which currently resided between your legs. 

A sneaky had drifted under your shirt, breath hitching in your throat as his thick fingers rolled one of your nipples, the soft tugging leaving you mewling as the sensation traveled down to your now throbbing clit. You leaned into it for a split second, but you were bought back to reality by the sight of your family’s Christmas photos on the fireplace mantle. There was no way in hell you could get fucked in front of a photo of your grandmother. You swatted Osamu’s hand away.

“We can NOT do this right now-” your words fell on deaf ears as  his hand snaked up your thigh, leaving a trail of warmth in  its wake as he settled them right above your stomach, fiddling with the drawstrings of your shorts. 

“My mom and dad are literally upstairs….” The words left your mouth faintly your body lurching toward him.

Again, you tried. A valiant attempt. It wasn’t a lie- they most certainly were upstairs, presumably fast asleep, as they had been up there for almost two hours now, leaving you and Osamu to watch a few corny Christmas movies- or so they thought. But he saw through your objections. Hearing the way your voice softened, seeing how your chest wavered as he got closer and closer to your face, he simply couldn’t contain himself. 

“It’s not my fault ‘ya wanted to stay here,” he huffed, large hands seizing your own, pushing away their protests as he passed his thumb up and down your clothed slit. You bit your lip in an effort to silence the moan that was bubbling its way up and out of your mouth. You had started to become feverish, your own state of vulnerability apparent as Osamu used one arm to pin your wrists above your head, sending your lower half flailing and bucking up into his free hand as you whimpered desperately for his touch.

“You want it, don’t ya, little love?” Little love. The one pet name you could never resist. Almost like a switch, you moaned a particularly needy, not-so-hushed “hmmhm- yes, daddy,” that definitely would have blown your cover. Luckily, Osamu’s thick fingers worked their way into your mouth to silence you, your lips immediately wrapping around them and obediently sucking to heed his words.

“Just be s’quiet as possible,” his hushed tone came out in a low baritone. He pressed a finger to his lips, pointing another up toward the ceiling from the couch of your parents living room. 

Keeping your arms restrained, your boyfriend’s free hand pushed past your layers of clothes, your saliva coated his fingers, providing just enough slickness to enter your hole with ease, gently curling against that soft spot right inside. You were so warm, so needy, easily molding into his touch as he watched your eyes widen within his. You fixed your mouth to open, but it hung there as his fingers worked, your cunt sucking  them in manically. 

“F-fuck,” you could barely manage that. “Please I-hmph- please…”

“Use yer words, little love,” he cooed, the tone of his voice was sickeningly slow as he teased you, slowing his fingers down. You bucked your hips in protest, pouting and wiggling underneath him to feel some form of friction.

“Stop Squirmin’.” His demeanor shifted immediately, darkening at your perceived disobedience. The hands that held your wrists met your throat, a half gasp escaping you as he gently squeezed, your face softening into a pout. 

“I said- use yer words.”

“Please, please fuck me,” you squeaked. “F-fill me up.”

“Then we gotta find a way t’keep ya nice n’ still. Will you be good fer me?”

You nodded. You always were. Osamu’s ability to render you a compliant, malleable toy for him to fuck was astounding. You could spend the rest of your life being his obedient little thing without a care in the world or a complaint.

“I know ya will,” he pressed a kiss to your lips. “My little love’s always s’good…” 

You knew you were in for it- but you didn’t expect this. It was a little different from your normal setup, but at the same time, the rush of excitement built in the pit of your stomach just as it did the first time ‘Samu ever bound you. It just so happened that there were some discarded lights nearby the Christmas tree. You could see the glimmer of an idea in his eyes as he plugged them in, smiling as the glow lit up his face. He looked at you on the couch and wiggled his eyebrows- as much as you wanted to laugh out loud, you weren’t in the position to be picky about your rigging tonight. You had to make do. 

“It’s…. festive?” You could tell that even he was amused. But amusement aside, the desire that built between you, the stored tension of having not touched each other for almost two days now was clearly screaming to be addressed. His large hands made a bite in the wiring of the lights and they quickly found themselves around your wrists, the illumination beautiful, but also kind of blinding this close to your face. With a kiss to your lips, he moved from your wrists and down toward your torso, trailing an interesting track of holiday cheer into a harness around your chest and tying in your back. Your arms were bent forward at the elbow, snugly enough so that you could wiggle your fists, but your wrists were of no use.

 Pushing you onto your knees, you felt the press of your boyfriend’s hand against your back as he repositioned your arms and elbows to place you on all fours. Cool air immediately hit the skin of your lower half as you felt him pull your bottoms off. You wriggled your hips in an effort to help, but instead your flesh was met with an aggressive strike. Managing to catch your discomfort in your throat, a lowered hiss bared through your gritted teeth, soon followed by a sharpened inhale as you felt the presence of him towering over you. 

“Been thinking about the way those cute lips were wrapped around that straw all night,” he panted, palming his cock through his sweats. You could see how uncomfortably hard he was- it lit a fire in the pit of your stomach. You couldn’t wait to serve him, you couldn’t wait to feel the weight of his thick cock against your tongue- and stretching your pussy past it’s limits.

“I bet’cher sweet mouth wrapped around my cock would look even prettier, don’t ya think?” 

His words hit at your core. Your mouth began to water in anticipation as he pulled himself out of his sweats, gently pumping before lining up at your mouth. 

Delicately, your tongue swirled down the slit of the head, plush lips wrapping around the pink bulb. Osamu’s hands guided your head down the length, drool sliding out of your mouth and down your  chin, where it dripped onto your chest, riddled with bright multicolored light. Slowly, he fucked himself with your throat, allowing you to adjust to his girth. 

“Yep,” he exhaled deeply, hissing at how warm your mouth felt around him.

 “Ev’n prettier.”

 His motions sped up as he bobbed your head up and down, the slight saltiness of his precum going down easily, leaving you practically begging for a full load.  You always craved him on your tongue- he tasted much better than any diner milkshake could. The soft gargling of his assault on your throat slowed to a stop as he pulled you off, leaving you gasping for air. Licking the drool from the corners of your lips, Osamu kissed you passionately before throwing your bound body onto the couch.

You clenched haphazardly around his cock as soon as he entered you, head flying forward with the force of his thrusts. His arm held you upright, parallel to his chest as his cock pistoned in and out of your hole. 

“‘S-sa-ah!~ ‘Samu- ffuck!” Your eyes snapped shut as he fucked into you. His breathy grunts resounded deep in your ears, sending jolts of molten lust down your spine, chest heaving as you tried keeping your voices down. Your hot, wet cunt sucked him in deeper and deeper each time he entered you- your urge to milk him for everything he had was only made more apparent by it. 

“I can feel you baby,” He purred into your ear. “So fucking wet.” 

Osamu released you from his hold, letting you fall forward into the couch, one hand pushing your head into the cushions, the other roughly kneading at the flesh where your ass and hip met, digging his nails into the flesh as he began to carnally pound into your pussy. Each stroke hit your sweet spot with a ridiculously precise skill. Your muffled sobs echoed into the cushions of the couch as he drilled you, never once slowing the rate in which his hips snapped into yours. You wouldn’t be surprised if the smacking of his skin against yours woke your parents at this rate- you couldn’t be bothered to care with your orgasm this close to the horizon. 

Somehow you managed to free a hand from your twinkling ties, immediately pushing it to your clit to rub it feverishly. The squelching started up shortly after, your ears beginning to ring as your throat squealed itself raw into the deep void beneath you. Osamu pulled you back by your hair, pressing his lips to your ear and clasping a hand to your mouth.

“Keep rubbing that pretty pussy, sweet girl, so fucking close to cumming fer me, aren’t ya?”

You could only whine in response. He softened the hand on your mouth, muffled words spilling out.

“I’m gonna cu-ah-cum! Please let me cum!” 

“Hmmm? Gonna cum? Did I hear ya right, little love?” He knew what he was doing, egging you on like this.

You were mere milliseconds away from losing it, the edge pulling up to you so close that you could barely collect yourself as you began to feel yourself slip over it- eyes whiting out as Osamu gave you the go-ahead. 

“Just let me c-” he finished your sentence for you.

“Cum.” It was a simple word, a simple command. But the way it hit your ears: the way the low growl tore through your body- you didn't stand a chance. The warm wetness of your release sprayed against his abs, trickling down your thighs and pooling into the upholstery. Your eyes crossed, face contorting further into lewd bliss as a scream tried to escape your mouth- but only silence hiccuped its way out. 

“Good fucking girl- now take this, baby. Take it all…” God, he was the devil. 

Fucking you through it- your boyfriend chased his own high, cock twitching inside as the vision of you wrapped in lights blurring into colorful stars as he spilled into you, his load coating your insides with a mass of sticky, soothing heat. You both collapsed into each other, bodies writhing as you caught your heavy breaths. 

As he slipped out of you, Osamu lifted your hips to his mouth, sucking in the mixture of his and your own release, savoring it on his tongue. Your puffy, fucked-out cunt spasmed at the contact, the sensation overwhelming as you tugged at his steely grey locks, snapping his head back. 

“Hmmph-  s’too much ‘Samu!” Your thighs clamped together as soon as he released you.

Humming a soft apology, he moved up from your lower lips to the upper ones, pushing his tongue past them, spitting arousal across your tongue. You swallowed the mixture greedily, smiling against his lips. You could still feel ropes of cum pouring from your spamming hole and leaking onto your thighs.

“Whaddaya think?” The words were slurred against the skin at the crook of your neck while he peppered your skin with kisses.

“Delicious.” You looked at him with a smirk, mind still hazy as your body shook its way through a few more aftershocks. 

“Told ya I could make a better milkshake.”

 As he said it, laughter broke out between the two of you. Your chest struggled against the harness, as it was still pretty tight. Osamu unplugged the decorations, gently untying you as snow fell outside your living room window, the faint jingling of bells filling the room again as the tv light illuminated you both. 

 Taglist Starseeds (check ur privacy settings if your url is in bold): @honey-makki @crushzone @yumekosgamblingroom @boujiesav @onesingleravioli @ushijimasfarmhat @trouvelle @nekoma-hoe @right-shoe-jpg @atsumusc0ck @ukeis @nivky0-0 @animoozies @charmarsmith

[mangofetts]

trouble

sub!kylo ren x dom!reader

warnings: degredation, humiliation, burn play, lightsaber play, use of mistress.

he knows he’s in trouble. you know he knows because he keeps sneaking looks at you like he’s being discreet. his large hands are fiddling in front of him while you lead the way to your shared quarters. your heels click on the sleek marble floors. kylo gulps at the sound.

stormtroopers pass by and don’t even question the supreme leader’s behavior. they keep walking patrols. the distant sound of blast doors shutting plays loud in kylo’s ears, trying to focus on keeping calm while in public. his hands fiddle even more at the thought of what you’re going to do to him.

the bulge in his pants is less than tasteful, and he’s glad the troops don’t look at him at all. he doesn’t think he could look at them with the same arrogance as he always did.

you came to a stop, your living quarters in front of you. you punched the password into the keypad and stepped through the threshold as soon as the doors open. kylo halted for a moment, considering the option of running away to get more of a rush but a quick glare from you made him move into the room.

almost immediately, you grabbed him by the hair and led him to the edge of the bed, making him kneel. the doors close behind you.

you took his chin forcefully and tilted his head to look up at you, but he looked down to the floor. that was quickly fixed by a hard slap to his face; he almost drooled at the sensation.

“i told you the plan for tonight. i told you not to cause any trouble. and what do you do? you go and kill two people that were of severe importance to us. to the order,” you sneer at him. he can hear the anger in your voice, knows that it’s all an act, but he can’t help but get all hot and bothered by your anger.

“you don’t deserve anything good tonight, you were bad. i have to punish you.”

he held back a moan at the thought.

“undress,” you ordered. he rushed to get everything off. his vest, his undershirt, his pants, his boxers, his boots and socks. his cock was leaking, drooling precum. it was twitching every few seconds or so.

“awwww you poor baby boy,” you pouted in faux sympathy. “so horny that you can’t help but spread your legs for me.”

he kneeled in front of you again, head bowed and hands folded in front of him.

“apologize. now.”

kylo whined at the humiliation. he looked up at you, tears bubbling in his eyes. looking like a kicked puppy left in the rain. he opened his mouth to apologize, to say sorry, to beg for you to let him cum, but nothing came out.

you reached out to hold his chin.

“i said apologize. i don’t want to repeat myself.”

and it all came pouring out.

“i-i’m sorry for killing him m-mistress i swear - i’m on my knees p-please forgive me. i-i’m so sorry i promise i won’t do it again. please touch me!” his pleas and cries slowly devolved into blubbers of “please let me cum” and “i’m sorry mistress”.

a kick to his chest shut him up.

“i told you to apologize, not beg like a whore,” you growled out.

keeping your heel on his chest, you knelt down, revealing your panties under your skirt. kylo drooled at the sight but moved his gaze up to you as to not further your anger.

“now here’s how this is going to go,” you started resting your arms on your knee and putting more pressure on your heel. he closes his eyes.

“i’m going to step on this precious little cock, and you’re going to get close using my heel and my heel only.”

he hears you grab something off of the dresser and the sound of a lightsaber fills the room. he opens his eyes and his saber is pointed at his neck.

“and you’re going to do it with this pointed at that pretty face of yours.” you hold the lightsaber steady, careful not to hurt him but still close enough that it’s a threat. he tries to take deep breaths.

slowly, you stand up and raise your foot above his cock.

and then you put your foot down and dig it into his skin.

his head almost explodes.

the threat of having the lightsaber pointed at him and the filthiness of having to get off using your heel makes him writhe. his breathy whines and moans fill the room and he doesn’t bother to hide his pleas for more. his hips buck into the unforgiving plastic.

“yeah you just love getting off on my heels, hmm? so desperate to please, now you know not to pull that stunt again.” a noise from his throat let’s you know that he enjoys what you’re saying to him. but he needs more.

you’re not going to give it to him.

his groin rolls into your shoe repetitively. his back against the cool marble contrasts so good against the scorching heat of his body, makes him want to sink into the floor. his moans and keens increase steadily.

“i-i’m close!” he groans out, hips jerking faster and faster.

he’s almost there, one more step and..

you take your foot off.

“noooooooo!” he whines out. “i-i was so- so close, mistress please continue!” he begs and begs and begs and he looks so pretty when he’s desperate.

you dig the light saber into his shoulder and he howls in pain, the searing hot blade cutting his skin like butter. precum now drools steadily from the head of his cock.

“you need to learn how to shut the fuck up, huh? lil slut you just can’t get enough.”

he keens at the humiliation.

“get on the fucking bed.”

he complies, hurriedly getting up and laying down on the cool sheets. he resists the urge to hump the sheets like a dog in heat. he refuses to embarrass himself more than he already has.

you crawl on top of him, purposefully brushing your hand on his shoulder, right where the brand is. he whimpers at the sensitivity.

“you did so good, beautiful boy,” you hummed, caressing the side of his face. kylo leans into your gentle touch, so different than how you were a few minutes ago.

“yeah sweet boy, so perfect for me. i think you deserve to cum after all of that.”

his eyes shoot open and he goes to beg for it when you smash your lips against his. he moans a hefty moan, the feeling of your lips heaven. you part, and he chases your lips to try and kiss you again. he wants nothing more than to make out with you like some teens in a closet.

you shush him. “you don’t need to beg anymore i’m going to give you exactly what you need. you ready baby?”

you reach down and pull your panties off. kylo goes to touch you and you allow it, let him feel how wet you are.

“uhn, mistress!” he moans when his fingers finally meet your folds.

“yeah, that’s all for you hmm? see how wet you make me when you’re nice and compliant?” you grab his cock and position your hips above it, ready to sink down.

and finally, you lower your hips and slowly push him inside of you. you let out a small hum at the feeling of him inside of you and kylo does everything he can to not cum then and there. he grunts and groans like he’s in pain but you see through it. you know he likes it.

he’s fully seated in you when you start to move, slowly at first. you pick up the pace when he starts to beg again. the pace is rough and fast, holding no regard for when he begs you to slow down so he doesn’t cum fast.

“mistress! i-i’m so cl-close!” he keens and he’s almost there. so desperate and he’s not going to cum until you tell him-

“you can cum, give it to me darling.”

he explodes, shouting his release. it’s like a thousand suns bursting. his vision whites out and he starts to float in the aftermath of his orgasm. he feels great.

when it’s clear that he’s floating and he’s done with his release, you go to the bathroom to get a warm wet towel. you make your way back to him and clean him up, wiping down his soft cock and thighs. you also clean his face free of the drool.

you grab some burn ointment from the nightstand drawer and apply it to the burn on his shoulder. you wince as you see how severe it is.

he comes to while you’re rubbing the ointment into his shoulder.

“that feels good,” he grunts. you smile up at him. “yeah? i gotta make sure you’re nice and cleaned up pretty boy,” you retort and he laughs.

it’s silent between the two of you for a while before he speaks up again.

“i didn’t m-mean to kill them,” he explains. you huff out a small giggle and look up at him.

“you expect me to believe such a half assed lie?” he smiles that smile and you melt. “it’s okay, they weren’t that important anyway.”

you put the ointment back on the nightstand and lay down on his chest.

“i love you kylo, i hope i wasn’t too rough.”

he smiles again and reassures you. “it was perfect, mistress.”

suddenly the trouble that he caused was the least of your worries.

[joons]

love & mercy | a mix for ben solo and rey of jakku (canon-compliant but tros-selective) (happy ending) (all songs from the beach boys, your new favorite band)

listen on spotify.

tracks:

in my room | tears in the morning | wonderful | gettin’ hungry | lonely sea | be with me | where is she? | with me tonight | don’t talk (put your head on my shoulder) | never learn not to love | ’til i die | let the wind blow | you still believe in me | god only knows | in the back of my mind | a time to live in dreams | forever | meant for you | (wouldn’t it be nice to) live again | we’re together again | please let me wonder | long promised road | here comes the night | when a man needs a woman | only with you | love and mercy

bonus track: i’m bugged at my ol’ man

annotations/read-along under the cut

1. in my room

lock out all my worries and my fears in my room, in my room do my dreaming and my scheming lie awake and pray

ben and rey are used to being alone, longing for something more. as they grow up, they wait -- and wait -- and wait for that something to find them.

2. tears in the morning

well, you know, i lit a candle it’s in my heart now where it glows day and night, feel my light, it’s gonna stand ‘til my heart believes in what you chose

abandoned by their families, ben and rey fight to hold onto hope.

3. wonderful

farther down the path was a mystery through the recess, the chalk and numbers a boy bumped into her won-won-wonderful

the force awakens. it ties two lonely children together, though they won’t meet for many years. when they do, they can’t shake the feeling that everything they want is locked inside the other. they just have to find a way to take it.

4. gettin’ hungry

gettin’ hungry, hungry for my kind of woman i’m gettin’ hungry, soon i gotta find me a woman i’m gettin’ hungry, searching for a pretty girl

“what girl?” ben searches for the scavenger. rey ... is very hungry, please feed her.

5. lonely sea

the lonely sea, the lonely sea it never stops for you or me it moves along from day to day that’s why, my love, that’s why, my love you never stay, you never stay

“you imagine an island. i see it. i see the island.”

6. be with me

won’t you be with me it could set us free come with me be with me, a part of me

“you need a teacher.” ben wants her. whatever that means, whatever it takes. that night in the snow, she was clearer than anything he’d ever seen in his life. bright and fierce and horrible, and he wants her. 

rey sees something in his eyes. a prayer. a wish. something like “be with me.” 

she flees. but she will remember those words. 

7. where is she?

where has she gone, she’s been gone for so long making me worry and wonder where is she? where is she?

separation anxiety gets bad after a couple of days. is she with @#!*%ing Skywalker?

8. with me tonight

with me tonight, i know you’re with me tonight

when the force bond opens, it sweeps away the sky, the earth, the wind and rain and leaves just them. and for those precious moments, for once, they are not alone. 

9. don’t talk (put your head on my shoulder)

don’t talk, take my hand and let me hear your heartbeat

“you’re not alone.” “neither are you.”

10. never learn not to love

cease to resist, come and say you love me give up your world, come on and be with me i’m your kind, i’m your kind ... my life is yours, and you can have my world

“i want you to join me ... please.”

11. ’til i die

it kills my soul, hey hey hey i’m a leaf on a windy day pretty soon i’ll be blown away how long will the wind blow until i die, until i die these things i’ll be until i die

ben deals with the crushing guilt of losing everyone who’s ever cared about him, while rey wonders if she wasn’t better off staying on jakku.

12. let the wind blow

let the wind blow let the grass grow but don’t let her go don’t take her out of my life

the supreme leader cares nothing about his regime. he bargains with himself for reasons to see her, and rey of the resistance does the same.

12. you still believe in me

i know perfectly well i’m not where i should be i’m been very aware you’ve been patient with me every time we break up, you bring back your love to me and after all i’ve done to you, how can it be you still believe in me?

despite everything he has done, when they meet again, he is undone by rey’s sympathy. the one person who has ever understood him completely, who has seen the darkest sides of him, does not flee now. she reaches out her hand.

the pull to the light is ... the pull to her. and ... somehow, he will find the strength to be her light, if he must give up everything he’s ever built to do it.

13. god only knows

i may not always love you but long as there are stars above you you never need to doubt it i’ll make you so sure about it god only knows what i’d be without you

rey is inescapably bound to ben, and he to her. accepting each other means they can finally accept themselves. 

14. in the back of my mind

i know it’s so hard to find a girl who really understands your mind what would i do if i lose her? it’ll always be way in the back of my mind

but a lifetime of neglect is not always easy to shrug off. even as rey holds him in her arms, ben can’t shake the feeling that someone will tear them apart. the voices in his head are not fully gone. someone is coming.

15. a time to live in dreams

a gentle hand to touch your smile so beautiful becomes a part of me ... now i know what love really is

ben crawls to her side as rey lays dying, pulling the broken weight of his body without noticing his own pain. there is no greater love than this: that a man lay down his life for his friends.

16. forever

i’ve been so happy loving you ... let the love i have for you beat in your heart but not forever ... so i’m going away but not forever

“i’ll come back for you, sweetheart.”

17. meant for you

as i sit and close my eyes there’s peace in my mind and i’m hoping that you’ll find it too

rey can still feel him, a peace that surrounds her and insists that she keep moving forward. but every step she takes is just bringing her back to him.

18. (wouldn’t it be nice to) live again

who ever said that love could die? who ever said the very first lie?

it’s rey’s turn to save him. 

“did i ever tell you the legend of rey of jakku? it’s not a story disney would tell you. she had such a knowledge of the force that she could even yoink the ones she loved out of death.” 

19. we’re together again

i didn’t mean to ever leave you alone i didn’t mean to ever do you wrong now that you’re back where you belong i’m gonna love you all night long

“hi.” ... “hi.” 

20. please let me wonder

and please forgive my shaking can’t you tell my heart is breaking? can’t make myself say what i planned to say

proposals are scarier than sith lords.

21. long promised road

so hard to shed the life of before to let my soul automatically soar but i hit hard at the battle that’s confronting me

the road to atonement and redemption and happiness is long--but her by his side makes it all feel easy.

22. here comes the night

my mind was a mess until you brought happiness well, that’s not hard to understand

[eyebrow wiggle]

23. when a man needs a woman

when a man needs a woman they make things like you, my son

a mommy and a daddy!

24. only with you

love is so many things that i feel that i’ve only felt with you

25. love and mercy (brian wilson)

i was sitting in a crummy movie with my hands on my chin all the violence that occurred, seemed like we’d never win love and mercy, that’s what you need tonight so love and mercy to you and your friends tonight

this song makes me absolutely bawl every time i listen to it, and it’s so perfect for them. love and mercy, folks. that’s all the galaxy needs. go make more.

bonus: i’m bugged at my ol’ man

i’m bugged at my ol’ man ’ cause he’s making me stay in my room (darn my dad) i came in a little late, and my ol’ man he just blew his mind (blew it bad)

kylo’s version of han

[aliceslantern]

Beyond this Existence, chapter 15

Summary:  After Xehanort's death, Demyx finds himself unexpectedly human in Radiant Garden. With nothing but fragments of his past and a cryptic statement from Xemnas, he's left to figure out who he is. When Ienzo asks for his help with a project, the two find common ground, but the trauma and secrets in both of their pasts could tear it apart. Zemyx (Demyx/Ienzo), post-KH3 canon compliant

Read it on FF.net/on AO3

-----

He must’ve slept.

“Demyx?”

He was being shaken. He stirred.

“Sorry to wake you. I wanted you to get some dinner while it’s still hot.” Even still looked washed out.

“I’m not hungry,” he mumbled.

“You need to eat,” Even insisted. “If it sweetens the pot, Aerith is still here and would like to speak with you.”

That got him up. He felt bizarrely calm. She was eating soup in their kitchen. There were dark circles under her eyes, but she still afforded him a smile. “I’m always hungry after a case like this,” she said.

Demyx sat across from her. Even forced a bowl in front of him, nearly slopping onto the table, and then disappeared. He sipped. “How did it go?” he asked cautiously.

“I might have to come back for some revisions. But he’s healing well.”

“Did Ienzo wake up?”

She shook her head. “As for that… it might be a while.”

The soup in his mouth, at first tasteless, turned bitter and rank. “Like… a few days, or…”

Aerith bit her lip. “Optimistically? A few weeks. Maybe even longer.”

“I don’t understand.”

“It’s… how do I explain. Physically, he’s healed. But metaphysically, it’s a little more complicated. Exerting such power has a cost. In this case, it’s sleep. He’s exhausted his own will trying to use that power, and now it has to rest. It might still be a little touch and go, in terms of brain activity, but I have a feeling he’ll recover.”

“Have you seen this before?”

She shook her head. “I’ve read about it, though, if that’s any comfort. Master Yen Sid and Merlin talked me through it too.”

He forced down some more food. “This is a lot to take in.” He couldn’t tell if he was relieved. Ienzo would survive. At the same time, he definitely wasn't okay. And who knew how he would emerge from the other side?

She nodded. “Of course.”

“Thanks for your help.”

“It’s my duty. Ienzo has been so helpful. It’s the least I can do.”  She scraped the edge of her bowl. “I don’t mean to be rude, but can I please have more? I nearly completely depleted my magic.”

He got her more food. She was eating so quickly. More fuel for the mage.

“You’ve gone through a lot too, so I’ve heard.”

“My memories came back.”

“Must be overwhelming.”

“I’m still in shock, to be honest.”

“I can only imagine.”

“I know this is how I’m supposed to be. And it feels right, but wrong at the same time.”

“Oh, the dissonance will fade,” she said matter-of-factly. “Give it a week or two and you’ll be alright.”

“You think?”

She twirled some hair around her finger. “Let’s just say that trauma-induced memory loss is common around here. Unfortunately. Sometimes the repression can be undone with spells, and I’ve done it a lot. You’ll just have to cope with the contents within.”

“Easy peasy,” Demyx mumbled.

Aerith scraped her bowl clean. “I hate to dine and dash, but there’s a committee meeting and I said I’d fill everyone in if I could. I’ll come around tomorrow to check in.” She stood. “Are you okay with hugs? I tend to give them a lot.”

He nodded wearily. She hugged him for a moment. She smelled like magnolia and something else he could not place. It was hard not to find comfort in the touch. “Good luck, Demyx,” she said. And left.

He washed the dishes robotically. The door to Ienzo’s room was ajar. It felt almost wrong to approach. Like he was about to desecrate a tomb. But why?

Ienzo was unconscious. He was just as still as before. It was, in a surreal way, peaceful, if you ignored the tubes and sensors on his hand.

Demyx approached him slowly. Touched his cheek. He’d mentally been steeling himself for it to be cold, dead feeling, but in fact he actually felt a little feverish. He could feel still more tears in his eyes and blinked them back.

“I’m sorry,” he said. Or was the better phrase “thank you”? To talk at all was artificial. He wasn’t sure Ienzo could even hear him. Demyx kissed him on the forehead. It shouldn’t be hard to be here. He was fine. Ienzo was going to be fine. He felt sick with guilt. Why had Ienzo done this for him? He could've gotten himself killed. Demyx just was not worth it.

“I figured you might be here.”

Demyx looked up at Ansem. He dabbed at his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he said again.

“That’s quite alright. It’s been an emotional day for all of us.” He came closer and placed a hand on Demyx’s shoulder, studying him closely. “Is it not peculiar, how the heart can change our very appearance?”

“I feel like a stranger.”

“I suppose you must.” Ansem sat in the chair at the desk. He pulled, absently, at a loose thread in the cable-knit sweater he wore.

“Aren’t you mad at me?”

“Why ever would I be?”

Demyx sat at the foot of the bed. Having spent time in it, the texture of the stitching of the quilts was comforting. “It’s my fault he’s like this. He shouldn’t’ve--”

“I have spent a good deal of time coming to terms with Ienzo’s choices, and learning to respect them. You shouldn’t blame yourself, but rather view this as an act of love.” He pushed himself to a stand. “I’m getting old. I can feel it in my joints. You’ll know someday.”

It was hard enough to be alive; aging boggled him.

“Come. Let’s go for a walk.”

Demyx looked back at Ienzo, still asleep, still immobile.

“You needn’t worry. Hard-hearted as he is, Even would do anything for that boy.”

Demyx followed Ansem wearily.

“You and I have not spoken much,” Ansem said. “I think that should change.”

“Everyone’s suddenly tripping over themselves to be nice to me,” Demyx said dryly. “Funny. Didn’t happen before they knew I had a Keyblade.”

“They know what mistakes they’ve made. Learning takes time. You do deserve kindness.”

“Do I? I mean-- I never questioned him, Ansem. Never, not once. Not because I believed in it. Because I was lazy and jaded and I didn’t care who got hurt.”

“Xehanort?”

He nodded.

“How old were you when they recruited you?”

“Seventeen.”

“And, at that point, did you have your memory?”

Demyx shook his head.

“Xehanort was particularly good at manipulating psychologically unstable individuals. If he caught you at the right time--”

“But Xehanort can’t absolve me of guilt. I can’t blame the guy fully. Isn’t that also reductive, or whatever?”

Ansem was silent for several minutes. Then he said, “It is an easy way out.”

“I don’t want easy. I just want the pain to stop. All of it. Mine. Ienzo’s. Yours. Everyone in this town or world who was poisoned because of him--” Demyx trailed off.

“Xehanort was… impossibly clever, the way he folded and changed himself to manipulate others. Friend, leader, harried apprentice. For him, it was simple as… playing a game of chess. He knew best where to hit us, and gave nary a care for the cost. Perhaps it is the bitterness in me, but I’ve been taking it in turn to fight the guilt. At least to spite him. I have so much to atone for. I’m not sure I’ll ever have enough time. But I have you to thank, at least partially, for this chance.”

Demyx rubbed at the back of his neck. “What, for the corridor? I was just doing what I was told. I’ll accept the pat on the back, but a lot of what I did to help Vexen was because I was bored.”

Ansem smiled a little. “Is that true?”

He shrugged. “I guess there was some part of me that just said “fuck him.” So I took the replica.”

“Resistance is not always courage and bravado. As a perpetual coward, I’ve learned this the hard way.”

Demyx nodded. He could feel the conversation bottoming out. They stepped out into a breezeway, and the sudden suffusion of light was startling.

“I am curious, though, about this mysterious score of yours,” Ansem said.

“How did you know about that?”

“Ienzo told me last night. Shortly before all of this happened.”

The memory was simultaneously a revelation and something that had always been there. “It started out as just some songs I was playing with. But when things started to hit the shit, I kept it as a diary, and just wrote under all the staff lines. Sometimes it matches up. Sometimes it doesn’t. It was hard to confide in anyone in those days. I only really had myself. That was after they killed my Chirithy.”

“...Chirithy? A friend of yours?”

“Oh… right… you guys wouldn’t know what they are, would you? They were… little creatures given to us when we started Keyblade training. Mostly the helped out with advice on where to go and what to do. You can’t help but become friends with them. They’re with you all the time. I think the Foretellers made them. Nobody has had one since.”

“Like sophisticated pets,” Ansem said slowly. “Possibly to keep an extra eye on all of you.”

“All this spying. I kind of wish people would mind their own business.” He sighed.

“Can you still use the Keyblade?”

“Yeah. I can. I’d prefer not to. I’ve had enough of all this. Just saying.” Demyx looked down at his empty palm. If he had the Keyblade, could he possibly get Arpeggio back? Lea was able to use both his Nobody weapons and his Keyblade. It had to be possible for him, too, right? Even had said that weapons worked differently than their elemental powers, but could he get hurt trying like Ienzo?

He wanted, just for once, to determine his own fate.

“Ansem, I’m sorry, but I have to go,” he said. “There’s something I gotta figure out.”

For the second time that day Demyx went to Even’s apartment. The door was propped open. His coat was on his lap, and he was darning a hole in it. “...Something the matter?” he asked coolly.

“That depends.” Demyx sighed. “Do you think it’s possible for me to regain my sitar? Or do you think it would hurt me like it did Ienzo?”

Even only paused slightly in his stitching. “Truthfully? I think that you will likely be fine. Lea can wield two weapons simultaneously--though why that miscreant needs to be doubly dangerous I have no idea.”

“How do I do it?”

“I’m afraid in that case I’m out of my depths. You might try giving one of them a call. I’m sure Ienzo would not mind if you used his gummiphone in his absence.”

He tugged at the sleeves of his sweater. “Sure. Thanks.” He turned to leave.

“Demyx?” Even set aside the lab coat and approached him. “Could I… perchance… take a look at it?”

“At what?”

“...The Keyblade.” He said it with a great deal of restraint.

“I mean I haven’t consciously summoned it in literally hundreds of years.”

“I have a feeling you’ll be able to.”

Demyx held out his empty palms. He barely had to think about it before it was there, like it had never been gone. He looked at it with familiarity and also with new eyes. He could see Arpeggio in its design--the near-heart of the hilt, the tuning pegs of teeth. It was light, slender, unlike the bulky blades a lot of them carried.

“...Fascinating,” Even mumbled. “Lea’s chakrams were incorporated into his blade as well.” He reached forward, perhaps unconsciously.

“Don’t!” Demyx said quickly, drawing the blade away. “I’m not going to risk passing this on.”

Even raised an eyebrow. “It’s not a virus.”

“It sorta is,” he said.

“As if I would ever be worthy. Very well. If it soothes your neuroses.”

The weapon, in his hands, felt slightly warm, as if it had been sitting in the sun.

“Have you had it long?”

“Literally?”

Even crossed his arms. “You do realize that you simply travelled through time, yes? You’re still only twenty-two. A babe.”

He tried not to bristle. “Since I was five. More or less. That’s just how it was then.”

“How what was?” His eyes had lit up.

Demyx sighed. He let the Keyblade disappear.

He told Even the story from the beginning.

[agentverbivore]

Jewish FS prompt: Academy era, Jewish Fitz teaches atheist Jemma about Hanukkah

1) I know I’ve said this to you a couple times now, but I’m still really sorry how delayed this is. irl is lame. 2) this ficlet is inspired both by @buckysbears’ Chanukah headcanons/prompts and the second part of @theclaravoyant��s prompt! Rated G, canon-compliant Academy era FitzSimmons (in their 3rd year). 

Head in hands, Fitz stared at his third year holographic engineering textbook and tried to convince the letters to stop swimming on the page in front of him. The final exam was in exactly seventy-six hours, but after introductory xenorganic chemistry, propulsion engineering, and his “SHIELD in Literature” elective, he was starting to feel like a wrung-out sponge. It didn’t help that the exam was scheduled for the absolute last slot in the week, which meant that half the campus was in a festive mood and he was absolutely itching to be able to join them. (From an acceptable distance, anyway.) With all the best of intentions, he had sequestered himself in one of his favorite private study rooms right after dinner. Four hours later, however, and he felt like he actually remembered the salient parts of the class less than he had before. Only having nine-tenths of the textbook memorized was really not up to par.

Just as he was giving serious consideration to dropping his face directly onto the book and taking a nice multi-hour nap, the door banged open and he nearly fell out of his chair.

“Fitz!” Simmons chirped as she plopped into the seat in front of him. “I have a question for you.”

“Bragg diffraction won the Nobel in 1915, seven years after Lippmann,” he managed to get out through a jaw-cracking yawn.

“As refined as your powers of telepathy are becoming,” she deadpanned, neatly dodging the slow kick he aimed at her red Cons beneath the table, “that’s not what I had in mind.”

“I was right, though, yeah?”

Her smile widened ever-so-slightly. “Yeah. And what crystals did they use to conduct the experiment?”

“Rock salt,” he replied promptly, sitting back in his chair. “And you’re late.”

“I ran into Professor Niehaus outside of Carter and had the most fascinating discussion about the reading for next semester. She thought you had some good points about the fall assignments, so she’s thinking about adjusting her syllabus.”

Fitz blinked at her. “I had some good points?”

“Yes. I told her what you said over spagbol at Mario’s a couple weeks ago.” The self-assuredness on her face made him want to give his head a cartoon-dog-esque shake.

“Okay, right, sure, ‘cause why wouldn’t you.” Taking in a deep breath and letting it out in a laugh, he waved one hand at her. “Alright, so, what question’d you wanna ask?”

“Oh!” she exclaimed, reaching into the purple knapsack she had placed neatly on the empty seat next to her. “I wanted to know the precise purpose of dreidel.” Simmons primly placed a lime green, plastic dreidel on the table almost perfectly between the two of them.

He squinted across the table at his best friend. “Dreidel?”

“Dreidel,” she repeated, straightening the top so that it lay parallel to the table’s edge. “The game, not the object.”

A thought occurred to him, and he arched an eyebrow. “Did you steal this from my room?”

The Academy’s Jewish Student Union chapter had held their annual Chanukah celebration the weekend before, aiming to catch students right before most exams began, and this year the party favors had included cheap plastic dreidels. Although Fitz had pretty much only shown up to grab latkes and rugelach and leave, he had swiped a couple of the trinkets to keep on his desk for fiddling with while he studied.

Simmons fought back something that resembled a sheepish smile. “Borrowed, with every intention of returning.”

Scratching at the back of his head, he tried unsuccessfully to figure out what had prompted the question, and why she had asked it now. “Why? It’s not Chanukah yet, doesn’t even start ‘til Christmas day this year.”

“I’m curious.” She continued to stare expectantly at him, and he let out a mildly annoyed huff.

Ever since having discovered that he was Jewish their first year, self-avowed atheist Simmons had taken it upon herself to pepper him with all manner of questions about his religion, only half of which he could answer on the best of days. Being mostly secular in observance himself, he found himself surreptitiously looking things up on the computer just as often as he had a response off the top of his head. One time, she spent forty-five minutes grilling him on the minutest details of his bar mitzvah, and he had ended up needing to email his mum questions when he couldn’t remember everything.

During the pause in which he was deciding how to reply, Simmons waited briefly and then continued: “And you’re the only Jewish person I know.”

Feeling abruptly tired and cranky, Fitz crossed his arms over his chest. “I dunno the purpose of dreidel, Simmons, it’s a kids’ game. Why don’t you just look it up instead of asking me?”

Anyone who didn’t know his best friend as well as he would have missed the wince that flashed briefly across her face at his words. Her shoulders sunk slightly, and she withdrew her hands to her lap. “Oh. I….”

“I mean,” he continued, feeling an odd need to defend his impulsive response, “you do this all the time with Jewish stuff. You’re an atheist, why d’you even care?”

Looking down at her lap, she took in a small breath. “I don’t know,” she said quietly. “I mean, you care about it. I thought that… that was what friends do. Be interested in things their friends are interested in. Or, I mean, that’s important to them.” Simmons tucked hair behind her ear and reached over to rifle through her bag. “Never mind. Sorry, we really should be studying.”

Discontent twisted into his stomach, and he scrunched his face up as he resisted the urge to just pretend like nothing had happened. “No, I’m – sorry, Simmons, sorry. I’m just knackered, you took me by surprise.”

“No, really,” she interrupted, piling textbooks on the table in front of herself. “I don’t want to bother you about your religion, it’s not –”

“It’s not bothering me,” he spoke over her, prompting her to actually look up and meet his gaze. “I just – I mean, I don’t like not knowing the answer.” He let out a sheepish laugh, flicking one finger at the pages of his book. “Dreidel isn’t significant or anything. It’s just a game. Think my mum said something once about how it’s adapted from some other European tradition, kinda like how Christians took bits and pieces from the Romans to make Christmas popular. But I don’t even remember what that was, so….” Fitz shrugged. “I just like the gelt and winning.”

Simmons was watching him with renewed interest now, an expression he recognized all too well from their first day of class every semester. “What’s gelt?”

“Those gold chocolate coins. Some parties use candy, too, but I like the chocolate.”

“Is it easy to win?”

Fitz chuckled, and reached out to pluck the green dreidel from the table. “Takes a lotta practice.” With that, he gave the dreidel a rapid flick onto the table, watching as it predictably flipped and spun into a standing position, making minute circles around the table.

Eyes glued to the long-spinning top, Simmons made a skeptical hum. “That doesn’t seem difficult.”

“Wanna try it, then?” He glanced down at the gold watch on his wrist. “What about we study for another hour, and then take a break to play dreidel. I can teach you. Winner brings the other tea before the exam.”

His best friend lit up at the promise of a competition, and she sat straighter in her chair. “Okay. Oh, but – we don’t have any gelt.”

Frowning, Fitz swiped up the dreidel just before it could stutter and jump to a stop. “We could use….” He spent a few seconds rifling through his bag. “I have peanut, crispy, and regular M&Ms. What d’you prefer?”

“Peanut,” she replied, watching as he laid out the three unopened bags of candy next to his work supplies. “How much candy do you have in there?”

“Gotta keep the blood sugar up, Simmons,” he retorted, pulling the nearly forgotten textbook towards himself. “Important for keeping the brain working at optimal capacity.”

Her eyes narrowed. “I think just one bag would have sufficed, but – anyway. Good idea, Fitz. Incentivization is an excellent study methodology.”

Grinning, he ducked his head, both of them settling in to be productive for exactly the following 59 minutes and 35 seconds. Fitz felt rather guilty now for having snapped at Simmons so unnecessarily, but he thought that her eager return to curiosity signaled that she wasn’t upset by his unwarranted response. Even though it didn’t make much sense, he had always been a little guarded about her questions regarding Jewish traditions, feeling that perhaps her atheism would lead to an argument between them. (An argument of a more serious nature, anyway, than the bickering that made up half of their conversations.) Yet, after about two years of friendship, the topic had only yielded them opening up about their families and traditions, and he supposed that was actually a good thing, in retrospect. In truth, Fitz found the explanation Simmons had given for her curiosity rather touching – even if he would never, ever admit it.

[Other ficlets.] [Chanukah ficlet 1 & ficlet 2.] [AO3.]