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lexiawrittings · 3 years

Text

Prohibited.

Forbidden.

PAIRING. Ransom Drysdale x Reader.

SUMMARY. Ransom asked for you to come, so you did. Having in mind what would eventually happen, and with the full intention to enjoy yourself while you are at it.

But soon, you find your thought deep in reminiscence on how you and your “cousin” had started this prohibited relationship in the first place.

A/N. DARK AU. It’s a very DARK series! ANGST AND SMUT (explicit sexual content, 18+ only), slight Daddy Kink. Mentions of incest (kind of... not really. Do not read it if it makes you uncomfortable). Ransom, as usual, is a d***. In the flashback, reader is 20/21, still studying in a private school before going to college. And Ransom is 23/24.

This is Sequel/Prequel of Forbidden. Don’t hesitate to leave a comments, your thoughts, and feedback. I hope you will like it and thank you for reading.

A lots of Love. Lex! xx

WORDS. 3972ish.

°°°

You knew you could just open the door and let yourself in Ransom's house. However, after working for the last years on the West Coast, you didn't know on what ground your relationship stood. Except, when Ransom opened his front door, a faint smile creeping on his lips, his blue eyes mischievous, you knew you were still close from his perspective.

" I thought you would never come. " He greeted you, pushing his body to the side for you to step inside. " I was spending time with the family. " You announced to him, removing your light jacket from your shoulders. " You know, our family. The same family who celebrates Easter and every other holiday together. The family I didn't have the chance to catch up with since I left. " You informed him, tucking your jacket under your arm. " And who's fault is that? " He whispered, embracing your body from behind, his arms on your lower stomach, his face leaning on the crook of your neck.

You deeply sighed already annoyed but pressed your back against his chest, your head against his shoulder, the softest of his sweater under your cheek made your mind quiet for a minute.

" You know, I wasn't the one who left. " Ransom mumbled his lips against your ear. "I wasn't the one who moves across the country, breaking up what we had." " Something we should never have started. " You murmured, your eyes looking at his fancy carpet on the floor. " I took the best decision, and I don't regret anything. " " You sure, baby? " Ransom nudged his nose against your neck and pressed a soft kiss on your skin.

No. No, you weren't sure. But you have made a decision back then; to stop what you have with Ransom. Your cousin. Something that started so quickly that you always wondered how everything had unfolded so fast.

°°°

a couple of years ago;

You always loved to go to Harlan's when you wanted to do your homework. It was quiet, from your little sister begging for you to come to play with her and your mom babbling on and on about a new product. Harlan being a calm, and peaceful man always loved you to come to his place, to talk and grab something to eat and drink or just work. But this afternoon, another person was here beside you.

" Ransom what happened! " You shouted out, frowning your eyebrows at his poor sight.

Leaning on the counter, his hands holding a frozen bag of peas against his cheek, your cousin sighed deeply watching you warily stepped inside the kitchen. You could see the form of a red bruise under his makeshift band-aids.

" Nothing. " He grumbled, dropping his gaze on the floor, annoyed by your question. " Alright. " You grimaced in front of his awful bad mood and shrugged your shoulders. " I'm gonna do my homework here if it doesn't bother you. " You announced to him with a faint smile, dropping your bag on the floor and taking a seat at the smaller table. " Whatever. " He rolled his eyes toward the ceiling and pushed his back to you.

You remembered being close with your cousin a long time ago, when you were both just small children. You will never forget the playtime you used to have together, in trees building some kind of cabin and pretending to be either pirates or bandits. But as you both grew, and you both become more different having other hobbies, and interests, you grew apart from one and another. Also, Ransom growing up as dickhead wasn't helping your relationship. A fresh glass of juice and some good cookies and you were in a perfect mood to start your homework. Beginning with a paper on the French Revolution. But a loud noise coming through the TV prevented you to focus on the lines of your book. Glaring at your cousin's back, you quietly swore seeing him increasing the device's volumes, the voice of sports commentators echoing through the kitchen as the pictures of a baseball game played on the screen.

" Can't you just go to the study, living room, or your mom's room to watch the game? " You asked irritated by his selfish behavior. " I'm kind of working here. " You told him, biting your lips to not insult him as you should. " Can't. " Ransom replied, his back still turned toward you. " I don't want to miss anything from the game. " He added, leaning his side on the counter. " Ransom, I'm sure you missing out a few seconds of this won't be the end of the world. " You sighed, throwing your pen on the table as you heard the loud cheers from the crowd while a player does some kind of throw. " Yes, it would be. " He simply declared, starting to tap his fingers on the table next to him.

You rolled your eyes, holding yourself to push him on the ground, and started to chocked the life out of him. You took a deep breath, collecting your thought, and tried to concentrate, once again on the history page until a fast and quick hand grab your book from the table. You snapped your eyes up toward the culprit. Your older cousin's face was holding the book pretending to be interested in the pages.

" And what's this about? " Ransom asked, completely mocking you and making you lose time with his childish behavior. Maybe he hasn't grown up that much. " Ransom, give it back! " You ordered, raising and walking toward where he stood. You tried to reach for your book, but he dodged his hands, a smile playing on his face. " That's not funny but childish, R'. Come on'. " You tried again but your cousin ducked his hands to the other side under your frustrated and angry gaze. " You haven't grown for a bit, haven't you?" " And, you are still the whiny, stuck-up little girl who don't know how to have fun. " He answered smirking as he saw your poor attempt to take your book from his hands.

He took a step back as you took a step forward. You tried once again to take back the book, but this time Ransom put it behind his back, making you pressed your chest against him. You stretched your arms behind him trying to catch your stuff. You could feel his hot breath against your cheek, his profile next to yours. Suddenly, he leaned his face into the crook of your neck and put a soft kiss on your throat, just under your ear. You shivered feeling his warm lips on you, almost forgetting about your little fight.

" You smell so good Y/N. " Ransom murmured his lips pressed against your skin. " You always do. " He added, putting another kiss on your neck. " R-Ransom? " You called him, unsure of what he was doing. " What happened to your face? " You questioned him in a whisper, worry growing inside your stomach. You slightly pushed your head aside, letting more room for his mouth on you. " I fought with some jerk at school. Nothing to worry about. " He explained to you, his lips still brushing the skin of your throat before he put light kisses on you again. He dropped the book behind his back on the table, and pushed his hands around your frame, resting them on your lower back. " I don't want to talk about this anymore. " He murmured pressing a firm kiss on your ear. He bit lightly your earlobe between his teeth. " Y-Your mom says that you fight a lot lately. " You choked a moan, closing your eyes for a few moments before opening them and realizing what was happening. " Do you remember when we were playing at the back of the garden every summer? " Ransom recalled, changing the subject. " We were spending every August together. Sleeping here for the holidays. And, at the moment the sun was up, we were there. Playing all day. " He continued putting light kisses on your cheek, moving dangerously toward your mouth.

You licked your lips, dreading his words and his movement while you put your hands on his biceps, trying to catch your balance. You exactly knew what he will say next. Scared and embarrassed you dropped your eyes on his chest, not strong enough to look inside his mesmerizing blue eyes.

" We played mommy and daddy back then. And we pretended to be in love, playing with your doll and all. We also had our first kiss. A light, innocent kiss. " He breathed out, brushing your nose with his own. " Our first kiss, something I will never forget baby. " Ransom murmured his mouth a few inches from yours. " It was a silly little game for children. " You declared, shaking your head slightly. " We were being goofy. " " What about the time when my friend Carter challenged you to kiss me? " He mused, stroking your waist and playing with the hem of your school sweater, his fingers starting to pull up the fabric to touch your skin. " Was it also a game, or does it meant more for you? " He inquired, his mouth close to yours, you could feel his breath against your lips. " I- I - " You stuttered lost for words, your heart beating hard inside your chest. You licked your lips again, frustrated and confused. " Let's play again, Y/N. " He whispered, his fingers stroking the skin of your waist. He pressed his figure closer to your body. " You will be the mommy and I will be the daddy. " " What are you talking about?! Ransom stop it! " You tried to push on his arms, but his stronghold didn't move away from you. " Why do you want this? " You murmured, puzzled by this odd behavior, still trying to squirm away from him. " Because it's fun and I want to kiss you. " The dark-haired man answered before pressing a soft kiss on your lips.

Stunned, you didn't kiss him back. But you stood inside his arms, his soft mouth against your own. The souvenir of your other kisses playing inside your head when you were young children mimicking what the adult used to do. When you were a teenager wanting to prove yourself in front of his stupid friends from boarding school. Doing the bold move to kiss your cousin for their stupid "dare". Ransom pulled away from you a little and pushed a soft kiss on your cheek.

" Kiss me back, Y/N. It's ok, just kiss me. " He mumbled to you, pressing another kiss on your cheek. " It's wrong. " You sighed, uncomfortable. " If Harlan saw us…" " Grand pa' is not here. " Your cousin informed you, pulling your body closer to him. " Anyway, we aren't doing anything wrong. Come on, baby. Play with me for a minute. " He urged you pressing a soft kiss on your lips, once again. " No. Ransom it's bad. " You pulled your face away from his, pushing your mouth aside from his wandering lips. " We can't, we can't. " You murmured closing your eyes, ashamed. " Of course we can." He protested, enlacing you ore tightly. " I know you want to. " He said, before catching your lips with his own, humming against your mouth.

You closed your eyes, feeling his fingers caressing your flesh, scared, puzzled, and excited, you kiss him back unsure. Confused, you slid your lips against his mouth, tasting him. Ransom bit lightly your lower lip, pushing his warm tongue inside your mouth. Gently he started to stroke you, drifting his hand on you butt. You let him, you rose your trembling hands on his cheeks to pull him closer to you. Ransom backed away a little bit, his bright eyes shining inside the room, lightened by the afternoon sun. He stroked your nose with his and made you turned around, your back collided with the counter. He put his body in front of you and carried your frame on the edge of the table, making you seat on the cold marble board. He put each of your legs behind his hips, a grin creeping on his lips as he stepped up between them. Stunned, your hands still on his cheek, you started to lean your head again to touch the soft skin of his lips. They felt like heaven.

"Now, Daddy will take care of you. " He mumbled against your mouth.

You kissed him, both of your nose brushing and your wet lips sliding against each other. You caressed his cheeks, tilting your head on the side while his hands were on your waist holding you close against his chest. You tucked your feet behind his back, your heart beating hard inside your chest. You were still scared and confused but your needs and desire were growing stronger than anything else. Ransom kissed you back with the same vehemence, his hands under your sweat, stroking your skin. You slid your lips on his cheek, and lightly put a soft kiss on his bruised flesh before leaning your head inside his neck and kiss him harder, your hands drifting behind the back of his head, your fingers caressing him through his soft short hair.

" I- I can't stop. " You stuttered, your mouth against his ear. " I- I can't stop kissing you. " You mumbled kissing the soft skin of his earlobe before biting it gently. " Don't. " He groaned softly under his breath, feeling your teeth on his skin. He slid one hand on your thigh, stroking the black thighs before pushing his hands further down, under your skirt to touch you through your clothes. " I want you to give me everything... " He murmured, his face against your shoulder, biting his lips feeling your nails scratching the back of his head. "First, I want this. " Ransom continued, the tips of his fingers lightly touching your pussy through your light thighs.

You stopped kissing his neck, and Ransom pushed his forehead against your yours, his eyes burning with dark heat. You bite your lips, feeling his hand on your most sensitive part of yourself. Does he know? Suddenly, you heard the front door opened and a low voice coming out from the hall. You quickly try to pull away from him, eyes wide open and your body starting to shake. Ransom only chuckled in front of your reaction but did not let you g. He only pushed his lips against your ear, still smirking.

" Don't worry. I will be gentle. " He murmured, his lips brushing your ear, while the voice of his mother came closer and closer toward the kitchen.

At the minute Linda Drysdale entered the room, Ransom stepped away from you. He turned down the TV, leaving you sat on the edge of the counter, your eyes filled with horror as you watched your aunt talking on the phone. Her eyes were on her luxury bag while her hand was looking through something inside.

" No, no, no Tommy I said 20k of commission. Didn't you hear me? Are you an incapable scumbag and also deaf? Is that why your wife left you! " She shouted out into the earphone stuck inside her ear, as she dug through her Hermès. Finally raising her eyes, she caught you and her son inside the kitchen. " Y/N, sweetheart please get down of the counter, the marble comes from Italy. " She urged you, calmly, her blue eyes soft before they grew hard again. " No, I'm not talking to you Stuart. You remembered you are deaf and useless. " She practically yelled to her interlocutor. She finally turned toward you again with a tired smile. " Please children, would you tell your grandfather that I will be in his study when he came back, thank you. " She said without waiting for your answers and walked inside the hallway toward your grandfather's room.

Still choked, you dropped your frame on the floor, legs wobbly from what happened. You retrieved your history book and started to step forward. You heard Ransom chuckling behind you as you sat once again at the smaller table, still bewildered, embarrassed, and a bit excited. Before leaving the room, Ransom walked behind you , and put a quick peck on your cheek.

" Go, away. " You snapped, frowning your eyes without looking at him. " See ya, Y/N. " He chuckled, even more, beaming while he walked toward the huge living room.

You shook your head, clearing your ideas from what happened with your cousin, his lips, his eyes, his smell, and his soft hair. And tried to focus t on your paper unaware that you just had started something that would go beyond your control.

°°°

" Where did you get the video, anyway? " You demanded, your face pressed against his naked shoulder. You heard him taking a deep breath, pulling his head away from your neck, his grasps on your naked thighs grew tighter. " I don't want to fucking talk about another man's dick when I'm deep inside you. " Ransom warned you, his voice low, biting your cheek to emphasize his statement.

You whimpered, feeling his throbbing cock inside your pussy. Straddling him on the couch of his living room, you stroked the skin of his arm, biting your lips.

" I'm sorry, Ransom. I won't mention him, I promise. " You whispered, putting a soft kiss on his lips. " Good. Now start moving baby. " He ordered you, his sentence barely finished that your hips began to move, up and down on him slowly. " That's right be good for Daddy. "

You let a loud moan escaping your lips, feeling his shaft inside of you, filling you up to the hilt. Ransom pushed his hand on your ass, caressing your skin roughly while he raised his head to catch your nipple between his teeth. Rolling the hard bud with his tongue, you pulled your head away from his body, letting more space for him to kiss your breast. You whined feeling the delicious sensation of the tip of his dick hitting you inside, and his warm tongue licking and biting your chest.

" You are so wet for me. " He mumbled, his mouth pressed against your flesh. "So wet and warm around me. It's s’good. " He groaned, his eyes fully dilated.

His wonderful praise to your ears made you increase your pace. You whimpered, dropping your head on his shoulder, once again, feeling him meeting your pace as he thrust himself up into you. Your body was covered in sweat, you felt his lips running up against your cheek before catching your mouth. His kiss was feverish and his tongue warm dancing with your own. Ransom kept shoving his cock deep inside of your pussy, feeling your movement faltered when you were too busy tasting his mouth. You moaned louder against his lips, feeling your climax growing inside of your core each time, he hit the sweet spot inside of you.

" Open your beautiful eyes. " Ransom incited you, he grunted feeling your walls below clenching him more. He looked into your eyes, while you open your heavy eyelids with difficulty. " I want to see you come all around me. I want to see your face. " He panted, pumping you quicker.

You moaned under your breath looking at his dark blue eyes. You hold onto his shoulders, feeling him shifting inside you making you whimper and hold on to him tighter. You had never felt so alive since you left and you could feel every cell of your body awaken while your orgasm hit you hard, blowing inside your core, making you cried out his name watching his feverish eyes in awe. Ransom looked closely at every emotion going through your face, still thrusting his cock inside of your pussy. It's all he needed to let go. Watching you come apart. He grunted loudly your name as he emptied himself inside of his favorite place.

" Fuck, Y/N. " He groaned, his hips jerking up and spams taking hold of his body. " You killing me, baby. " He chuckled low, pulling on your ass with his hands to push your body closer to him.

As usual, you let him, and put your head on his shoulder, trying to calm your ragged breath, beating heart, and blissful emotions. Ransom put a light kiss on your forehead, cuddling you on his couch, his hands stroking your back, his soft dick still inside you.

" I'm glad you are back. " The brown-haired man admitted, opening his eyes and putting another kiss on your forehead. " We can play like the old times. " He huffed, while you frowned your eyebrows stepping away from his body, you looked at him. " I don't want to play anymore, Ransom. You know we can't and I don't - " You tried to tell him, looking at his face as he rolled his eyes stopping his light stroke on your frame. " All we do are some kisses and fucking. " He barked, grimacing and mocking your reticence. " It's not that wrong because let me remind you; we are not fucking related. My uncle found you in some depraved orphanage and brought you home. We are not family! " Ransom shouted out at your face, his heated eyes showing his annoyance at your "prude" behavior. " So, if I want to fuck you, when I want to, I think it's ok that I do. " He growled angry and then you felt a sharp pain against your ass. He had slapped your bottom.

You widened your eyes, horrified and surprised by his " douchebag " behavior, and punched him on his shoulder under his glare. Ransom opened his mouth, shocked that you could both play this game. A silly game as usual with the two of you as you both started a series of punch, slap, and blows, fighting each other like you were both, six and nine or thirteen and sixteen. Children snapping at each other with hits on the arms, some hair pulling, and bites. You gasped feeling his cock pulling outside of your pussy and his hands pushing you to lie down on his sofa. Ransom quickly took hold of both of your hands, pinning them on each side of your face. He put his figure above you, hovering your frame.

" That's enough! " He fumed, his dark blue eyes, completely dilated and burning with rage. " You hit first! " You replied, angry with him and trying to free your arms away to get the hell out of here. But he kept a stronghold on you.

You were both panting again, and you both were glaring at each other. But then you felt it. The tip of his cock hard against your lower stomach. Ransom didn't flinch, his hard gaze still on you. The tension was unbearable, thick, and fucked up. But you couldn't resist anymore. He followed the slight movement of your mouth, you opened it a little bit, licking with the point of your tongue the skin of his arm. It's all your cousin needed to start to rub his cock on your clit, hard and slow. You arched your body against him, the tingly sensation making you moaned, and closing your eyes.

" That's what you want! " Ransom breathed out, moving his hips to let the tip of his dick slightly pushing inside of you, but he quickly took himself out stroking your clit again. " Is it what you want, Y/N? "

You bite your lips, avoiding to reply to his question, pushing your head to the side, biting softly the skin of his arm. He chuckled softly, seeing you moving your hips at the same pace as his own.

" Alright then, " Your cousin leaned his head into the crook of your neck, licking the salty sweat covering your body. " Let's play. "

°°°

Tags: @chvntelle-99 @iloveshawnieboi @stupendouslovegardener

#Ransom Drysdale x Reader #Ransom Drysdale x You #Ransom Thrombey x Reader #Ransom x Reader #Dark!Steve Rogers x Reader #Ransom Drysdale Fanfiction #Ransom Thrombey x You #Ransom Drysdale Imagine #Ransom Thrombey Fanfiction #Dark!Steve Rogers x You #Knives Out Fanfiction #Ransom Drysdale #Chris Evans Fanfiction #Ransom Drysdale Imagines #Story: Prohibited #Forbidden Series

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lovenona · 2 years

Text

lotus eater

synopsis; heaven always tasted bitter against the roof of your mouth. or – part eight of the odyssey, a pirate! jujutsu kaisen cinematic universe

contains; a rather depressing reunion, depictions of blood + violence + death, reader has many injuries, flashbacks and contemplations of Life, many mentions of alcohol, there is a slimy gross drunk man that briefly bullies reader, the weather sucks, bad vibes as per the usual, can we get everyone a therapist i'm begging

word count; 15.0k

it was a cold summer that year. the winter chill never left, not really, and so the frost stayed into springtime, and the sugar never grew the way it was supposed to, and everything was wet with rain.

in town, merchants’ carts and housewives’ carriages sank like stones in the muddy streets while shopkeepers failed to keep the mess away. no one could escape the summer cesspool. the wet sand and the mud took up residence on everyone’s floors, in everyone’s boots, on everyone’s clothes. at the pubs, the ground blanketed in a layer of dirt, the air thick with the smell of stagnant water, sailors mourned the sorry state of their shirtsleeves over pints of beer and ale.

no one knew where to wander that year. the merchants worried they’d lose their fortune without any crops to sell and the sailors thought they’d never find another job. it was slow going, that tension between coming and leaving, building and decaying. the shopkeepers salvaged what they could and prayed for the rest. maybe next year, the hopeful said. until then, we can live off of last year’s grain.

the printing master lived in perpetual fear that his paper would mold. there could be no escaping it during a summer like that, when the freezing rain dripped in through the ceiling and summer warmth never came to dry it. that summer you spent every morning and every night checking and rechecking the supply. you opened boxes and rubbed the blank pages beneath your ink-stained fingertips to ensure they were still decent. the household was obsessed with it, with the sanctity of the paper and the press, the insurmountable quest to keep the mud off the floor.

he never seemed bothered by it, though. whenever you saw toji on the street he seemed as sullen as ever, his only good sweater sporting a hole in the sleeve, his boots so dirty you never could remember what color they were supposed to be. when the mist drifted in off the tide in the early afternoon he never cursed and went indoors. he just kept moving, from odd job to odd job, cleaning horse shit like the weather never mattered. perhaps it was because he didn’t notice it. perhaps it was because he was only ever cared about the moment he’d leave.

but that was life, then, at the edge of the world. you lingered beside the press and brought the finished products to the harbor. on breezy summer nights you found a home in the raucous hum of the pub and convinced yourself you liked the taste of ale. you remember how toji always used to laugh at you when you scrunched your nose in distaste, his shoulder pressed against your shoulder, his body rumbling with delight.

on sunnier days you finished your work early to wander by the sea. with the last of your allowance you found the old woman near the harbor, her humble shop weathered by rain, her usual wares diminished by the unwelcome chill. her fruit was always too bitter. still, you bought it anyway, because she never minded gifting it all to you.

“you like to listen,” the woman croaked, mouth wide with her missing teeth, “and that, i think, is payment enough.”

she always told you a story in exchange for her food. sometimes it was her days as a girl, when the world was smaller and no one dared look too far beyond the horizon. sometimes it was about her first lover, who she swore fought the cursed gods of the sea before dysentery finally dragged him under. she had been here forever, the old woman always said, and she remembered when the universe did not always look like this port.

you would listen, you would thank her, and then you would all but stumble towards the beach. toji was already waiting for you, seated lazily on the sand, his eyes half-closed as if in slumber. he never cared if the sand was still muddy or if the water was too cold. whenever you were with him, you didn’t either: like toji, you cared only if the sun was out, if the summer breeze was blowing, if you could really pretend you were anywhere else.

“sorry i’m late,” you said, breathless, waving the basket in your hand as you threw yourself down beside him. “she kept talking to me about the time a boar tried to eat her father.”

toji rolled his eyes, but he shifted closer until your shoulders kissed when he snatched the basket from your hand. “i don’t know why you keep amusing her. her fruit tastes like shit.” from within the basket he summoned what you thought might have been an apple, once, before it adopted a strange and unusual color and a distinctly uncomfortable smell.

“and yet you keep eating it.” you took his apple and a dull kitchen knife from the basket and mindlessly sliced the sad fruit into pieces. when toji eyed them, you offered, and with the same greedy impatience of the dogs behind the butcher toji tossed a few slices in his mouth.

“i’m not going to say no,” toji retorted. “just know that it’s fucking bad.”

you laughed then, playfully, resting your head on his shoulder while you ate. the sun flickered brightly against the sea, but you felt none of its warmth. when toji dipped his feet into the water, you did too, and you did not wince when the ocean froze your ankles. it was silent between you save for the sad apples and the current and the wind. you liked the summer when it was like this, when you could pretend it was beautiful. you liked when it was you and him against the world on your back.

(buccaneers, was it? a future fit for kings? a fortune built on loneliness, on strength, on needing? oh, yes, that’s right: they would write stories of him, the beast of the high seas, stories composed for you like rare and delicate gifts. and you, ever the clown, could bring yourself to believe that there was pleasure in existence, that with the caress of calloused fingers on your skin, you could be reborn, over and over again.)

“oh, look,” you broke the silence gently. “there’s boats today.”

out on the horizon, nestled like ducklings in the waves, lived a family of small sailboats, their white sails hopeful and proud against the mid-afternoon sky. they circled each other slowly, children at play, timeless and cool and unburdened. at such a great distance you could not see the sailors directing them, and so the boats themselves took on a godlike quality, as if they themselves were their own deities on the water.

you studied them quietly, your eyes wide, eager to memorize the course of their movements. the fruitbasket sat forgotten on the sand, and you would have forgotten toji had you not been so enamored by the sheer feeling of his body beside yours, of the steadiness of his breathing, of the warmth of his heart.

“well, would you look at that,” toji mumbled diligently in reply, but he was never so delighted as you. still, his gaze followed the sails, studied the way the light reflected off them, a light which gave them the impression of being carefully manmade clouds. he bit into another apple and licked his lips to savor the taste.

“what do you think they’re doing?” you never tore your eyes away. you tried to picture it for yourself, like always, but you liked it better when toji found the words. you always wanted him to tell you, because life sounded better on the lips of someone else.

he shrugged, rolling the half-eaten apple between his fingers. “fishing, probably. they’re small. boats like that can’t go much further or they’ll get pulled out by the current and never come home.”

you let him wrap his arm loosely around your shoulder and rest his cheek against your head. he smelled like toji, like lightning and firelight, like facing danger without worry. you pretended it did not hurt you a little when he held you like this. you pretended you were not memorizing the very weight of his head for the day when you would not feel it.

“i’d like that,” you said as the brisk summer wind ripped a hole in the tide. a seagull dove elegantly across the water and cried as it flew away. the seaweed gathered dispassionately at your ankles, but you lacked the resolve to push it back. instead it stayed, slimy chains and slimy weights, kissing your toes with the same insistence that it kissed his.

toji hummed. “what, fishing or being stranded forever at sea?”

you huffed indignantly into his shoulder, but you held him closer all the same. out on the water, amidst the blue sky and the hearty gale, the sailboats quietly circled each other again. it was as if they wanted to tell you something important but simply never knew how. it was as if they were writing a letter that no longer needed you to know the language.

“you know what i mean,” you said, your cheek pressed against the rough knit of toji’s sweater. you know we’d never want to stay at a place that’s not home.

he sighed, that bitter sigh you and he knew all too well, the one that said more than he ever could with words. it was the sigh that followed you both into the evening and napped beneath the table at the pub. it was the sigh that could only be angry, could never be still. it was the sound that broke beneath the weight of the world but always begged for more.

a few heavy clouds began to gather on the horizon. the boats would come back to the harbor soon, swiftly, before it began to rain.

“yeah,” toji conceded, “i know.”

but now the rain falls eagerly, thick and unrelenting. it does not hesitate to soak through your clothes and cling to your skin. it falls into your eyes, and even when you try to brush the raindrops away, the wind blows them back to you. the waves sob against the coastline; behind you, the trees bend obediently in the gale. you wonder if their branches will snap. you hope you do not stick around long enough to find out.

your tongue catches between your teeth. you stare across the empty space to the place where he stands, unencumbered and cool as always. he does not seem to mind that the rain has soaked him to the bone. he looks only at you, his once-emerald eyes tainted onyx by nightfall. he looks at you expectantly and still you do not know what to say. what can you? your hands twitch helplessly at your side and you let yourself fall prey to the vision.

“hello?” toji tilts his head, casually waving an arm to catch your attention. “you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

the statement shoves you back to your senses. you frown, heart flailing, and try to remap the scar on his lip and the playful nature of his eyes. you’ve never seen this shirt of his. when did he get a sword? has he somehow gotten taller, or are you merely shrinking? has he ever looked at you like that before?

“i–” you pause, the statement caught in your throat. should you cry? throw your arms around him and beg to be forgiven for a sin you didn’t commit? what is the guidebook for meeting an ex-lover after murder? whatever you thought you might say, it dies as you ramble, “what – what are you doing? how did you get here?”

toji shrugs with the same fluid, composed, infuriating ease. “the same way you did, i presume. by water.” his lips curl into a halfhearted smirk when he nods his head towards the howling, untamable sea. it might have been humorous, once, but it chills you now in ways you cannot name. he meets your gaze again, and your lungs deflate beneath the pressure. did you always remember him this way?

toji steps forward. you drink it in, all of it, the familiar gait and the wet hair plastered to his forehead, the muddy boots and the unfamiliar sword tucked safely into his belt. he is so painfully similar and yet he is not the same at all. your head buzzes and your rational mind threatens to burst. you do not know what to do with him, with this, so you watch lamely as he approaches, your feet rooted firmly to the sand, boots sinking slowly with the rain.

“you’re bleeding,” toji observes suddenly. you note the new crease in his brow when he says it. you look down to find thatindeed, toji, i am, thank you for noticing, the wound on your abdomen dripping precariously down onto the stones and the weeds. you don’t have to investigate much further to know that it is everywhere, that even with the rain soaking you through you will never be able to hide the stains of your victory and your failure.

to match toji’s uneasy cool you shrug nonchalantly, but the action awakens some new and unwelcome pain in your arm. “oh. yeah. i, uh,” you lose your thoughts and struggle to find them. your forehead begins to ache. “i got into some trouble.”

toji’s expression contorts with concern. his gaze flickers between your tired eyes and your bloody fingers as he assesses the wounds he cannot see. he reaches out worriedly, flexes his fingers and opens his mouth as if to say something useful, but he pauses on that precipice, words empty, actions dead; in another moment, with great perturbation, he retreats back into his shell. instead, without meeting your eyes, he says, “come on. let’s get out of the rain.”

you, bleeding, unsure of what else to do, nod warily and follow. your feet slide against the wet stones, and it takes every bit of your determination not to fall over again. ahead of you, toji calmly leads the way down the beach. he doesn’t complain when his boots sink into the muddy sand or when the rain drips down his matted hair and nestles under the collar of his shirt. you watch the way his muscles flex and the way his back moves, the way his sword sways ever so elegantly at his belt.

(did he always walk like that? so lost in your fantasies, you could never quite remember. there are many things about fushiguro toji you find you did not know.)

the wind hurls frigid cold into your ears and threatens to blow you away. shivering, you wrap your arms around yourself to staunch the bleeding and give yourself the semblance of warmth. with commendable focus you trace toji’s nonexistent shadow as you wander through the sand. your teeth chatter violently, and you wonder pathetically whether it’s actually going to be the shitty weather that finally ends you.

as if he could read your thoughts, toji calls, “it’s not that far from here, promise. it’s outside the barrier, so we shouldn’t be able to hear the ghosts.”

you cannot quite identify the strange feeling that grows in your ribcage. it twists, much like a fog or a poison, and threatens to purge whatever you had eaten for dinner a thousand years ago in the dark. you know it is going to consume you, but there is nothing you can do about it. you say nothing, your tongue trapped, your bones aching, and continue to walk in his footsteps.

(toji, you would say, perhaps, if you had the words for it, if you didn’t have the fear, how do you–)

“here we are,” toji announces too proudly. “i told you it wasn’t far away.” he gestures to his left, towards what looks to be a giant boulder nonchalantly nestled beneath a few dying trees, comfortably far from the broiling surf. time or determination or both once hollowed out the inside, and it exists now as a sort of makeshift cave, a little house just large enough to shelter you both from the rain.

“there should be some dry wood in here,” toji reassures, more to himself than to any other, crouching down and crawling into his sad excuse for a haven. you watch him haphazardly search for said wood before he organizes it into an even sadder little pile. the rain falls in painful sheets on your back, but still you pause as he kneels over the wood, as he digs for old matches in his pockets.

how long ago did you store that in here? you want to ask, but you don’t know if you would ever get a real answer.

“are you coming in, or are you planning on standing out there?” toji glances up briefly, expectant, waiting. you nearly shudder beneath his gaze. too quickly for comfort, you obediently crawl into the cave and sit back against the cool stone walls, all too aware of the way toji blatantly shuffles away when you try to sit beside him. you close your eyes, your breathing uneven. outside, the wind cries furiously. inside, toji’s wet hands try to light the fire.

(but he was always like that, you know: always so impatient when he wanted you to listen.)

“hey,” toji said, a little too abrasive to be flirtatious, “are you going to open this, or should i just let myself get eaten?”

you never moved so fast in your life. the printing master had gone to bed early, sure, but when toji wanted something, he was loud. you prayed furiously that his aggressive knocking hadn’t woken up the entire household and raced out of bed to pull open the window. the evening breeze slunk in like an array of seductive tendrils and there toji stood, a canvas bag thrown over his shoulder, his emerald eyes much too lit up with mirth.

“what the fuck?” you hissed, but still you took the bag and helped guide toji through your bedroom window with dreadfully gentle hands. “do you want me to get fired?”

“you worry too much,” toji fluidly brushed away your hatred. “i’m sure you saw those fucks down a whole bottle of shitty whisky before they finally passed out in bed.” he stood up, brushed the wrinkles from his shirt, and grinned at you with that crooked smile that he knew would always win. you hated when he smiled like that, all playful and amused, because it lit you up like a firework and turned you into a fool.

like now, for instance, as you stood awkwardly with a man much too large to fit properly into your room.

you sighed as a last-ditch effort to regain your composure. “fine. but at least take your shoes off. i spent hours trying to get all the mud out of here.”

“yeah, yeah,” toji rolled his eyes but listened all the same. he flung his muddy boots into the corner with infuriating nonchalance and made a home for himself on your floor, resting his back against your bed and spreading his limbs as if hewere not the unexpected visitor. you watched him with his eyes closed, the scar on his lip and the midnight shine in his hair, and committed him all to memory.

“i’ve got to get out of here. imagine staying in a place where the most exciting thing to happen to anyone is that the floor is fucking clean. how do people live like this?” he cracked open an eye to watch you, still standing by the window, still holding the bag in your hand, curious as to why you hadn’t yet joined him.

(we didn’t, you know. we pretended.)

you melted beneath that look of his, but instead you quipped: “there’ll be dirt on everyone’s funeral clothes after we all die of boredom.”

he smiled. that undid you. toji gestured seductively to the ground beside him as he said, “i’ll have failed if i don’t get buried somewhere better than this shithole.”

“me too.” you fell neatly into his side, his arm wrapped around your shoulder, your thigh against his thigh, as if you were never quite whole until you were together. “the view here is terrible.”

“this view?” toji leaned in, lips ghosting against your cheekbone, his free hand dancing dangerously along the hem of your nightshirt. “really? terrible?”

“toji,” you warned, but you let him do it anyway, run his lips from your cheek until they reached the corner of your mouth, let him turn your face towards his until he could capture you properly in a kiss. you always let him. there was no way you could stop. you could never do anything when his tongue was electric, when it built you and broke you, when brought you to the edge of heaven and back again.

you only pulled away when you couldn’t hold your breath anymore, and even then, toji’s mouth followed you relentlessly, pressing a sloppy kiss against your jawline until he could finally pretend he’d had enough.

you breathed in ragged turns, your heartbeat loud in your ears, your lips parted with a look of eternal surprise. you were still staring at toji’s scar when he reached over to take his bag from you, his hair mussed, his expression ecstatic. you were still thinking about the flavor of his tongue when he pulled out the bottle of rum, the label smudged from his haste. you knew better than to ask how he got it. toji was always borrowing things like that, always letting his hands wander until something precious went missing.

(outside, the summer wind swirled on, and from somewhere off in the distance echoed the sorrowful lamentations of a boar. you hoped everyone in the world was sleeping. you thought it would make toji’s actions more romantic that way.)

you studied the bottle with an air of distaste, but you couldn’t help the blissful, helpless smile on your face when you said, “and just where did you get this one?”

“i was unloading cargo this morning, thank you,” toji retorted, his fingers dexterously removing the cork without trouble. “consider this my salary.” since they’d never pay me anyway.

“how considerate of you,” you said, but your compliment carried no weight as you watched toji tilt his head back to drink, his face tinted blue by the moonlight filtering into the room. there were still remnants of the sea and the harbor on his shirt, and his body was warm, and his hair was beautiful. you didn’t realize that you hadn’t blinked once until toji waved the bottle before your eyes and invited you to have a taste.

the bottle tasted like toji and like rum, like the shitty alcohol from the storage deck on a nameless ship and the tumultuous thunder on toji’s lips. it burned when you swallowed; you closed your eyes when they watered. all the while you felt toji’s gaze on you, far too perceptive and far too sweet, trying to read your mind without asking.

(you always pretended you didn’t notice when toji memorized you that way. it would feel better later, you told yourself, if you could convince yourself that he had never paid attention at all.)

“fuck, that’s strong,” you said instead of i wish you’d look at me forever.

but i was looking, you know. toji chuckled and brushed his thumb gently across the excess at the corner of your mouth. “exactly.”

you fell into an easy silence after that, distant echoes emanating from the breeze outside, from the boar in the woods, from the slosh of the bottle as you solemnly passed it back and forth. it did not take you long to grow dizzy and eager from the taste of toji and fermented sugar. your mind was slick and smooth, your limbs like water, your heart like air. you fell further and further into toji until he was lifting the bottle to your lips himself, until he was tossing it away to kiss you. you could never be sure where he ended and where you began, just like you could never be sure where time started and where it stopped.

“and how’s that old fuck of a printing master?” toji was saying, his eyes bright with an artificial confidence. you felt his breath on your neck and could not remember the rest of the conversation.

“first of all, he’s sleeping in the other room,” you reminded him, “and second of all, he’s fine. he just gambles too much.”

but toji was never convinced. you could feel it in the way his body tensed, in the way he controlled his breathing to keep himself together. he wasn’t looking at you, but somewhere at the wall behind you, absent of anything save one measly print of a boat you found in the trash bin and decided to keep.

“yeah? and has he let you do anything yet? write a story or something? teach you how to publish and trade?”

“well, no,” you admitted, “he hasn’t advanced me further, but the stories i read are still good.” so at least there’s that. you wouldn’t look toji in the eyes because you knew it was shameful. you knew your life was inescapable and disappointing and boring as sin. you knew that, you knew it, but in front of fushiguro toji you were always ashamed to make it true.

and as usual, toji would not relent. “stories? you mean the garbage he prints, all of that boring shit we already know? those stories?”

your downfall was in your hesitation. you never could rest easy without defending your case. “well, i mean, on sundays he prints that section about life overseas–”

toji scoffed diligently, razor-sharp. “by the time you actually hear about any of that, it already happened months ago. it’s hardly a story at all.”

the room was too stifling for you both when you replied, “i know. but at least i get to hear it.”

together you sat in an untamable quiet. it swept through the stale air in the room, through the walls with no pictures, into the yard outside. the world was so small, it could wander from one end of town to the other in just under a minute. the port was a fence that caged you, but you could not afford to pay for the exit. you did not know what hurt you more, then: that you could not make it happen or that some already-defeated part of you did not even wish to.

toji turned his head and pressed his lips to your jaw in a silent apology for whatever he might have said that you did not want to hear. you accepted it, as you always did, and let your eyes flutter shut at the feeling.

“for me, at least,” toji whispered huskily against your skin, “i don’t think i’ll ever be satisfied unless i can see all that shit for myself.”

you, against your better judgement, tilted your head to give toji better access. he took it gladly, pressing kiss after kiss at your jawline until he planted a generous garden at your pulse. you savored it, that immediacy, that feeling, terrified you would suddenly wake up from the most pleasurable dream.

“i know,” you agreed, your voice a little too breathless for your liking, “but i don’t know how to leave. my parents left me behind, so i can’t ask them, and i’ve got no salary, so i can’t just pay my way out like everyone else. the only way i’d be able to go is if–”

“if some kindly old pirate let you stow away on board their ship?” toji moved from his home at your neck to meet your eyes. he was smiling when he leaned in, all dangerous and composed, his fingers like hot coals at the edge of your shirt. “a possibility. but you don’t strike me as the type for that.”

indignant, you turned away. your face warmed, held in perpetuity over a burning fire, and you clenched your fists to dull the pain spreading through your chest. not the type, you scoffed. sure, what toji said was true, you told yourself, but still: could you not lie to yourselves, if only for an instant? you studied the cracks in the floorboards and pretended there was no one seated beside you.

“i know,” you hissed quietly under your breath, but the words carried no venom. “i know.”

you felt him lean in and press a kiss to the back of your neck, his chest warm against your body, his arms ensnaring you insistently in his touch. even with your displeasure you could not deny him. he pressed a chaste kiss to the sacred place beneath your ear, and you bit your tongue to stifle a sigh.

“that’s not what i meant,” toji said in lieu of i’m sorry. “only because i see you as the captain, not the person who follows behind.”

you turned back to face him in an instant. “you’re lying.” you could not find any humor in his statement.

toji’s fingers pressed lovingly into your hip as he grinned at your confusion. “never. i don’t care who it is, your goddamn sukuna or whoever-the-fuck, you’re too smart to be in their shadows. i’ll vouch for that forever it i have to.”

your face was much too hot, and the butterflies in your belly were much to potent for your liking. you could not help but bashfully look away, turn your gaze to study some empty space over toji’s ear, and pretend that his words weren’t the closest thing to heaven you’d ever come. you could still feel those confident eyes on your face, on your lips, and you wondered what you would do with yourself the day he finally looked away.

were you supposed to say that? was i supposed to believe you?

“i’m not sure about that one,” you said, finally, “but i appreciate your faith in my nonexistent abilities.”

toji’s hand encased yours, warm and calloused and inviting, as he guided it across the space between you to his hips, to his thigh, to the annoyingly pleasurable landscape between his legs. he was grinning with the expression he knew would always win against you. you were silently collapsing into ashes and stars.

“hey,” he said, his lips close enough to brush against yours when he spoke, his hand guiding you further, further, “you’ve always had big dreams, haven’t you?”

“toji!” but you could not help it: you followed him into the fire.

it doesn’t take toji very long to light his matches. you watch his calloused hands coax smoke and flame with an enviously casual ease. the fire blankets you both in its orange glow, strange against the indigo night, and crackles to life with a fistful of warmth. despite your desire to lie down and perish, you hunch greedily over it, holding your hands above the flames in the hopes it will cure you that way.

you are much too aware of toji’s body on the other side of the cave. once he deems the fire sufficient he flattens himself against the wall and splays his limbs out to dry. he is careful not to touch you. you do not know why he runs away with such determination. you do not even know if you should look at him anymore, and so you study the flames and wipe the blood from your rain-soaked fingers.

(were you always so far? is it the other?)

“it’s been a while, hasn’t it?” you jerk and nearly smash your head against the cave’s roof when toji’s unfamiliar voice breaks the silence. you look up at him. his expression is unreadable, his face cloaked in shadow, but his question carries with it a sort of painfully tender ache.

awhile, he says, but a lifetime. because you and i are no longer the same; because you and i could have never seen it coming. does he count the days in sunsets or in the movement of the tides? how long have you mourned for a fruit that could not sustain you?

you look back towards the campfire. “four or five years at least, but it was hard to tell without a calendar.”

silence drowns you both again. you pretend to examine the dried blood under your fingernails and will your clothes to dry before you gather the courage to steal another glance at toji. he is watching you with that bottomless complexity, the force of his mind hidden beneath his dark eyes. so much to tell him still, once upon a time; but now, here, sorrowful, everything you ever wanted to say burns like saltwater in your throat.

so, finally, as a half-assed effort to dispel the tension, you gesture to the pitiful island of tengen’s nest as you say, “i see you’ve been around since then.”

(everywhere, even, if i had to guess: but i was never there with you, and you liked it that way.)

toji shrugs. he gazes out towards the dark waves hurling themselves against the shore, to the wet sand and the unfavorable wind that calmly tears large branches from trees. it’s the sort of storm that won’t let up until morning, that would never dream of listening to prayers for relief. it is the sort of weather in which no self-respecting sailor would ever make a voyage. whenever they did, you would not find the wreckage or the bodies for days.

“i guess so,” toji answers, finally. “but i could say the same for you.” he raises an eyebrow at your dreary state, at your bloody clothes. you resist the urge to curl in on yourself and pretend that you do not exist. “never thought i’d catch you stumbling out of a place like tengen’s nest.”

you do not know if you like the way that name slips off his lips. something obscene constricts your insides and, despite your desire to scream it, to mourn it all with all your might, you hold your breath. you do not want to acknowledge it yet. you take toji’s lead and dance around the question when you say, unfeelingly, “i had a debt to pay.”

the fire casts a warm glow on the sand. it would have been beautiful, once, a lifetime ago, but now you are merely attempting to drown yourself in the hypnotic wood and embers when toji asks, “so? did you kill the guy?”

you freeze. you look up, frowning intensely, but toji’s expression is as plain as ever, eyes regarding you with nothing more than a passing curiosity. how, you want to ask, but you know better. when, you think, but you do not want to know. why, the world begs, but that is the worst of them all. instead, you give in, hold yourself over the fire, and respond, “no, but someone else did.”

toji nods. “i see.” he does not offer a second question. he is vacant of every story, every conversation, weathered away and eroded by mystery until only the bones remain. you miss the sound of his voice and yet you cannot bear to hear it. the rain pours; the storm rumbles on.

you cannot deny the ice that festers in your lungs. despite the fire’s tepid heat, you shiver, caught between the thing you wanted and the thing you know. despite the proximity you are so far away, fighting the tide against years of distance, against leagues of time. with your own shallow strength you cannot drag yourself and proteus out of this torrid shadow.

outside, the rain falls sideways, and you cannot see the horizon.

on the other side of the cave, toji clears his throat. “so how’d you finally get out?”

you shrug noncommittally beneath the weight of the question. through death and through sulfur. “just like you said. i had to wait for some kindly old pirate to take pity on me.” you try to smile, but it reeks of banal humor and sour pity. the joke falls short, like everything else. there is no use in hiding the flames on the backs of your eyelids.

“sukuna?” you do not miss the way toji’s eyes darken a thousand degrees, or the way his voice drops with gravity, or the way his body turns to stone. as much as he attempts to hide it, the displeasure breeds a palpable unease in the little room, not unlike the nights in which the hungry boars did not scream before they struck.

you bite your bleeding lip and taste the iron. the wicked night, it follows you, but you brush it aside with wounded fingers. “how’d you know?”

toji raises an eyebrow. you catch a harrowing glimpse of the story inside him, of the anger and the interest and the comfort, before he swallows them all up and renders himself devoid of incriminating feeling. he does not speak until he is empty again. you wonder where he learned this. you do not want to find out.

another lackluster shrug, but it prickles your spine. “lucky guess.” but you are not appeased by this and some older part of him must know it. you keep your eyes trained on his impossible face, staring into what you hope might be his soul, until toji adds, “well, you always said you liked him.”

you always said. but the cynical air with which toji speaks warns you not to push it further. you always said, but you do not know if he is ready to hear about the adventures, about the midnight dreams, about the promise you made that you hope will not crumble. you do not know if that unusually troubled expression wishes to hear about what it is like to live in his shadow. you are not sure if the new toji wants to hear you at all.

so you do not tell him, whether from fear or from compassion, you could not say. you hum some kind of reply that you do not know the meaning of. you wonder why you have not yet stopped shivering.

(and has he always been seated so far away? can toji hear you on the other side of the fire, can he recognize your eyes? what do you do with an insurmountable barrier: cry? scream? smoke it out? you were ready for murder but you were not ready to see him like this, not now, not ever. but still you stay; you would always stay. it is your weakness and your vice.)

“so, toji,” you begin again, your voice delicate, as if scared to brush a dandelion, “what about you? where have you been since you left?”

toji does not answer right away. he does not know quite what to say when he considers his recollections and carefully decides what to tell you. you watch him shuffle through his discarded memories and practice the echoes of different words on his lips. you watch him struggle against himself and give you nothing at all.

“i’ve been around,” toji responds eventually, elusively. his careless expression has not changed. “left home, did a couple of projects with some merchant ships, but they never paid me much money for it. after awhile i quit trying to play nice and got caught up with a few fucked-up pirates and now,” he gestures to the rain outside, “i’m here.”

so much to tell you, still. you try not to cry when you press, “and megumi? what about him? where does he fit into all of this?”

for the first time all evening, toji is surprised. raw shock overrides his expressionless face and molds him into the perfect model for discomfort, for panic, for fear. you do not miss the way his breathing hitches or his fists clench. you do not miss the caged and wild animal hiding behind those dark and tragic eyes.

“megumi...” toji echoes, his voice strained against invisible strings. there is a poem he writes, but he does not recite it. “oh, megumi. i met his mother on a whim when i went to shore once. couldn’t tell you the town. i wanted to stay, but the money ran out, so i left again.” he looks unusually distraught when he adds, “i still haven’t been able to make it back.”

(he was a blessing until he became my curse; until i lost it all because i couldn’t carry it with me, until the moon rose and the moment died.)

he studies the invisible sea, disturbed by his own admission. you observe him, tight-lipped, unsure whether you’ll make him cry or scream if you continue. so you, experienced, hold your tongue, the subsequent pain manifesting in your stomach, and wait for the silence to choke you. you know the questions but you cannot voice them. outside the barrier, the noise is too loud.

“and you?” toji changes the topic, throwing the interrogation back in your direction. “what have you been up to with your favorite overlord sukuna?” somehow, the question is not so kind when he says it. he pronounces sukuna’s name with dissension, with distrust, as if the mere word alone put a thorn in his side. he is not looking for what you did or what you know; he searches for something else, deeper, more profane, like a lover with a vengeance.

“oh, you know,” you echo, trying to shake the sensation of some unwelcome spider crawling up your spine. “we’ve just been around, seeing different ships and islands, taking treasure, the like.” the lie is poison. “i think i met a family member of yours along the way – a zenin? she looked just like you. why didn’t you ever mention them?”

(why did you return to them when you left? with a child? with her? why did you pretend it meant nothing to you?

bastard son of a faraway family? did you mean it when you said it?)

toji readjusts himself to sit in a more comfortable position. his eyes look unlit, murderous even, filled with a lifetime of childhood anecdotes he would burn at the stake if given the chance. “they never saw me as real family. i left when i was young, and i didn’t want anyone to know. fushiguro was just a flower that used to grow by the house, that’s all. i wanted my own name or nothing.”

“but you still left your only son with them?”

toji does not look at you when he replies, “his mother died, and with no money left there was nowhere else to bring him.”

you swallow your sharp tongue when you recognize the ancient pain in his eyes. indeed, terrified of the funeral, you fall back into the sound of the fire and the rain, the roar of the waves against the shore and the eager crackle of burning wood and embers. you dig your boots into the sand and breathe slowly in a feeble attempt to hinder the spread of your migraine. you close your eyes and lean back against the wall and will your bleeding to stop.

(the mother died: and he is alone now, so truly and utterly alone. no wonder the light finally died in those fiery green eyes.)

you had hoped, once, that you might meet under different circumstances, that you would simply float back together and share stories for a lifetime. you should have known there was someone else always waiting. you should have known that time would suffocate you both until you had nothing left to say to each other.

you should have known it all sooner. but you did not expect it, and it kills you the way the waves corrode the shore.

you attempt to shift your body to appease the irritable pain in your awkwardly bent legs and the growling ache in your back; but to do so awakens each and every wound you had gathered in battle, reminds you of all the places the blonde prince had dared to touch. against your will, you curse, wincing, holding a trembling hand against your torso. for a moment you see red: for a moment you wish you could see nothing.

on the other side of the fire, toji fixes burning green eyes onto your palm splayed across your bloody shirt. he wakes up briefly, ignoring the flames as he leans in closer to assess the damage in the subpar golden light. you watch those green eyes grow colder, angrier, as they put two and two together, as they realize what your injury might mean.

“fuck, hold on, that’s a lot worse than i thought. why the fuck didn’t you say anything? did you plan on just dying here?” but you can do nothing but look back at him, your lip quivering, your blood congealed with heartache and pain. even against your better judgement you are ready to open your arms to him the way you always used to. you see it, just barely, his hands fluttering weakly, palms desperate to touch.

you shiver when he asks, brutally, his sword sharpened against the world, “who did this to you?”

you could never remember for certain. despite the evening chill, it was still unbearably humid in the pub. nothing would stay dry, and so fingertips remained sticky with whisky and sweat, and a layer of musk hung tightly on everyone’s clothes, and the tables smelled like wet wood and dissatisfaction. with the failed crops and the unstable deals still prescient in the august summer, hope quickly fell through. unemployed sailors flocked to the pubs but they still could not find a reprieve against nature. so they sat, their destitution as bitter as their smiles, and waited for a moment to surrender.

the one-eyed pirate pretended not to notice. he clutched his beer enthusiastically, his body leaning over the table to be heard among the disheartened din. he was telling you about sukuna that night, about sukuna and the story he’d heard from someone else who swore he knew another captain that had met the god, but no one was entirely listening. it was difficult when every other table was grumbling, when everyone else knew they didn’t have enough money to pay for their women or their meal.

“but that’s what he said,” the one-eyed pirate nodded solemnly. “said he knew a captain who wasn’t afraid to strike a deal with sukuna. looked him right in the eye and nearly shot the king to death when he didn’t uphold his end of the bargain.”

beside you, toji wasn’t listening. his body was warm beside yours, his hand resting lazily on your thigh under the table, but his mind was elsewhere, perhaps out the door, perhaps on the horizon. you knew he only listened to the one-eyed pirate’s stories to appease you, but you liked the comfort of him anyway, the knowing looks you shared when drunk men embarrassed themselves, the kisses he pressed to the back of your neck when no one else paid attention.

“they didn’t shoot him,” the second pirate quipped. “they used a sword.”

“yeah, yeah,” the one-eyed pirate dismissed him. “no one cares about the details.”

you noticed toji’s cup, which often doubled as yours, was empty. in the hopes that maybe something else would revive him, you stood up, stating, “i’m headed back to the bar. anyone else want something?”

“another beer, if you can.” the one-eyed pirate held out his empty mug with a thankful grin. “i need to clear my throat before the next story. it’s hard work, you know.”

you rolled your eyes, and, taking the cup, turned to a quiet and disinterested toji. “any preferences?”

he shrugged, but you felt the sweetness when he added, “whatever’s cheapest.”

ungluing yourself from toji’s side, you weaved through the tightly-woven collection of mismatched tables, sagging chairs, and uncomfortably sweaty bodies to reach the bar on the back wall. the bar never carried options other than whatever came by on trading ships, but you liked to pretend it did, liked to pretend that you had a choice between shit beverage one and shit beverage four. you always asked even when you knew what the answer would be. you all pretended you could develop a taste for the poison, whatever it was.

the heat of the crowded room clung to your back and your cheekbones. it covered you in a layer of ash or film, the sort of discomfort you’d never be able to scrub away in the bathtub. you blinked it out of your eyes, tried to shake it from your skin, but that oppressive feeling could never really go away. it was the stillness of summer, the knowing that death bloomed even in the peak of the season.

and then, clutching the cups without looking quite where you were going, you ran into the man.

you knew him without actually knowing him. his name did not matter. it had always eluded you, like one of those casually unimportant things, but you had frequently seen him bumbling around with women and drinks at this end of the port. the rumors said that he was insatiably angry. the cold summer meant that he had not had a good job in a long, long time, and so he was very bitter, and very afraid.

“watch where the fuck you’re going,” he spat before he saw who he was speaking to. they were slurred words, unsteady, flavored with one too many pints of ale and self loathing. he tried to shove you before he recognized you, but his hand stayed steady on your shoulder, his grip tightening once he realized he’d found good prey.

“god, you–” he began, swaying on his feet, expression rancid, “it’s you–you fucking, useless shit, don’t do fucking shit around here and just, just–” he paused, too enraged to find the words– “take our drinks and our food without even working for them–” you tried to wrestle your way out from under his drunken grip, but to no avail– “just sit on his fucking dick all day, why don’t you, what’s his fucking name, fushi–”

the punch came before either of you were ready. toji’s fist emerged from somewhere behind your ear and then he was in front of you, pulling you out from beneath an unwanted hand, and glaring without mercy as the nameless sailor tried to staunch the blood leaking from his nose.

“pull that shit again and see what happens.” toji was rough, unbeatable, and there was no playful taunt in his voice that time. the bar was, to your chagrin, deathly silent. you felt one too many pairs of eyes on you, eager, finally, for the tension in the air to manifest. no one ever looked away when fushiguro toji came to fight.

the other sailor wiped the blood off his chin. he sized toji up, pure muscle and victory, as if he had never heard of the goliath you currently stood behind.

“yeah?” he spat. he looked over toji’s shoulder to you, with your forgotten mugs and your lumpy sweater. “like i said, why don’t you just go home and sit on his–”

he never finished the sentence. you watched, as if in a dream or a myth, as toji threw another punch, and another, each one more precise than the last, each one accompanied with the sickening crack of cartilage and bone. there was blood, but no one could be sure where it came from. there was a bitter grunt as the sailor caught toji under one eye and another groan as toji caused the sailor to lose his teeth. together they were ares unending, the culmination of the mud and the stillness, the remnants of troy blowing over the doorstep. you were not sure it would stop.

it took five sailors and the barman to pull toji and the other man off each other. both heaving heavily, a fresh layer of sweat stuck to toji’s shirt while the blood would not come off the sailor’s. there were murmurs and sighs but you could not hear them. whatever the one-eyed pirate was telling you became water in your ears. he pulled the cups gently from your hands, but you were not empty for long, because you were soon holding toji by his arm and leading him towards the door before you knew otherwise.

(you never found out what had happened to the other man. a few days later he sailed away on the first ship he found and never came home again.)

the others gossiped inside. outside the pub it was quiet save for the occasional burst of laughter or the artificial mewl emanating from the brothel nearby. a light summer breeze wandered down the street and disappeared behind the buildings, the sort of wind that felt like heaven on your sweaty skin until you overstayed your welcome. everything languished beneath that grey-evening glow. the sun had long died behind the ocean and the stars were still too nervous behind the clouds. across the street sat the harbor, all of the docks empty save for one, their lamplights burning in vain for a nonexistent visitor.

toji was sullen and silent. you did not know where to take him, so you went to the harbor. at that hour, there was no one left to protect the waves. the lamps, mere glorified torches with petite little flames, burned at regular intervals along the dock so that sailors would know where the land ended and the sea began. on such a still evening, the water was an endless black mirror, the lamps reflecting against its surface like a galaxy of lonely fires.

you sat toji down at the end of an empty dock. you hoped, blindly, that the sound of the tide might bring him back to you. you worried somewhat that he had not spoken since you gently escorted him from the pub. he stared down at the ocean, at the place where the shadow of his foot met the slippery reflection of the fires, and said nothing. shoulder to shoulder, you watched the tired waves sway in and out and back again. nothing stirred beneath them.

“you didn’t have to do that, you know. he was piss-drunk anyways.” your voice sounded strange in the quiet; too loud, almost, to be welcome near the sea.

toji grunted. “of course i did.” he did not look up.

you wondered, momentarily, if you should push toji into the water. clenching your jaw, you continued, “contrary to popular belief, i can defend myself against drunk assholes–”

“i know that,” toji interrupted, which silenced you. you did not know this vigor in his voice, this urgency that overtook him, as if he were fighting for words on borrowed time. “that’s not the point. i don’t care. i’ll fight anyone who has the fucking balls to look at you wrong. nobody fucks with you while i’m here.”

(this is not the script, though. this was not the line you were supposed to say. say something else, anything else. make me hate you. i beg you, make me look away. but he couldn’t. he would never.)

“nobody?” you echoed, half-heartedly playful. you had to ignore his admission. you had to pretend that toji wasn’t deadly serious, like he would not have happily murdered that sailor for placing a sweaty hand on your shoulder and that he would never have lived to regret it. it was the truth that hurt more than the threat in his statement.

toji wouldn’t relent, and that scared you. “no one.”

you pressed in close against his shoulder, the way you always did when you thought you could change the subject. he did not look at you, but you traced his profile, the powerful curve of his nose, the silvery scar on his lip. this was not the script: but you would bring him back and make him recite it. “okay. let’s say, i don’t know, sukuna is real and he actually shows up and tries to kill me or something. what then? you’d really fight him?”

“of course.” the answer came to toji as easily as breathing. “i’d kill him if i had to.”

you paused, your eyes trying to catch his eyes, your lungs deflated, your insides akin to something like molten fire. still not your lines: and yet, i think i… “wait. really?”

he looked at you then, called out from his reverie by the disbelief in your voice, the delicate fear that someone actually saw you when you did not see yourself. you were terrified of it, even when you prayed each night that his tender eyes would reach you. you wanted him and you did not. you knew that the moment it ended, everything you told yourself wouldn’t matter; but still you craved it, this brutal thing other people called love.

and now, with the fire reflecting bravely off toji’s determined eyes, you could not do anything but accept it. you could have devoured him whole, and he would have let you.

“yes,” toji repeated. held still in his gaze, you drowned. “i’d fight anything that tried to hurt you. i’d fight them and i’d win.”

life caught in your chest. you were looking at him, and he was looking at you, and you could not breathe for fear that you would wake from some inescapable paradise. in his eyes, you saw yourself and the heat, the violence and the affirmation. he’d fight them and win. he always did; you simply could not comprehend that someone would care enough to try.

(but how can you? you nearly asked. when both of us want to run away? but you said nothing. you trusted his meaning.)

“okay now. it’s your turn.” toji’s hand lazily crept up your knee. the solemnity was slipping from him, evaporating from the bruise forming under his eye and cascading into the black sea below. you could see his old self beneath the exterior, the one that grinned too easily and wickedly and always tore off your clothes like his entire life depended on it.

“excuse me?”

“it’s your turn. come on. i kindly fuck you senseless and you can’t even swear undying loyalty to me?”

“toji, you arrogant fuck–” you shoved him, but you could not wipe the amused laughter from your face or stop your cheeks from burning incessantly. you tried in vain to hide the embarrassment deteriorating your entire body and soul, but it was no use; toji was already your victor.

“you can’t die anyway,” you protested instead of do not talk about our sex life in the fucking harbor, you idiot, did you not just get in a fight over this? “you’re toji. who’s the one convinced he’s going to become a famous sea captain? ‘challenge the strongest and win?’ ‘old man of the sea?’ ring a bell?”

toji rolled his eyes. he leaned into you, his face dolled up with mock-seriousness, as if you and he were engaged in the most important conversation of your lives. he smelled like saltwater and lightning. he was looking at you, but you were looking at his lips. it was the sort of thing you could never forget.

“okay, fine,” toji conceded boldly. he tilted your chin back to meet his sultry gaze. “sure. i’ll take that. but let’s pretend for a moment that i don’t. what if, by some fucked up design, the world finally gets me? what then?”

you could have lived forever in those eyes, eager and waiting, drowning in hubris and lamplight, callous and certain. when toji looked at you it was like the whole world sat at your fingertips. it was like the universe would bend for him wherever he went. you did not know what it was that he saw in you, but you figured that whatever it was, it must have meant something great. you had never seen eyes quite like toji’s. you knew when he left you would never see anything like it again.

the dark waves were eerily still beneath you. behind you, along the empty docks and the lonely harbor, the lamps blinked sleepily in the evening breeze. the port and its familial collection of pubs, brothels, trading posts, and dirty houses breathed insistently in the darkness, as if, even on such a silent night, the island refused to fall asleep.

something howled in the distance; a bird called back in reply.

you bit your lip before you said, softly, with the tender care of one setting the type, “well, in that case, i guess i’d fight the world in your honor.”

“who did this to you?” toji repeats, agitated. his fists are electric, as if the culprit were hiding behind you and toji only needed to strike. his green eyes speak of nothing but fury, irises swimming with violence, desperate for a fact. tell me now, he’s crying, and i will end the world that broke you. he sees nothing but the enemy and the blood on your hands. he is the strongest; he will finish them.

but he can’t, and you know it.

“it doesn’t matter. he’s dead now anyways.” you try to appease him, gently, fighting back the urge to brush a piece of stray hair from his eyes. “he’s dead. we killed him. it’s okay now.”

the revelation seems to soften’s toji’s rage. his eyes darken again, onyx irises blending back into the purple dark of the shadowy cave; and with a great sigh, retreating back into himself, toji says, “still, it looks bad. we should go back to my ship – i can help you.”

“your ship?” your question spills into the cave before you realize you’ve spoken.

“i told you i came by sea, didn’t i?” toji rustles uncomfortably and sits back on his heels. his humor is strained, predetermined, as if it was a joke he repeated that someone else thought was funny. “i’ve got a rowboat planted further down the shore that we can use to take back.”

a scorched wave hurls itself against the beach. something like a large tree or a skeleton blows across the sand and disappears out of sight. torrential rain drowns the island, pummels the water, shields the sky. it is as if, over the course of one brutal evening, the storm itself hoped to wipe tengen’s nest clean off the map.

so you say, as kindly as you can: “i’m not sure we should go out there.” we actually should not, for multiple reasons, but hey, you were never an expert at arguing with fushiguro toji.

“it’s fine,” toji repeats with that feverishly humored voice that is not his own. “trust me, yeah? i can get us there. we’ll bandage you up.”

we should not, you want to say, there are others to wait for, but something about the dark cesspool in toji’s eyes keeps you rooted to the floor. you cannot leave him. you do not wish to. you must follow him to the end, wherever he goes, chained to his body’s shadow, because you would rather die than lose fushiguro toji in bloom.

(you left me, once, but even now i will not go. you were looking for me: and i ask you to search no longer.)

“okay,” you say, nausea growing tenfold. “okay.” but you do not know if it is meant as an agreement or a comfort. toji smiles without teeth and, in one fluid movement, gets up and exits the cave. he disappears immediately into the rain, cloaked by a storm determined to forget you existed.

you watch the campfire for a moment longer before throwing a pile of sand over the wood to douse the flames. the shadows that had waited patiently outside crawl back into the little cave and nestle back into their rightful corners. you remain paused, entranced by the lingering smoke and the dying embers. it is so dark now; but outside, the night is darker still.

you move, slowly, carefully, so as not to anger your wounds any further, brace yourself, and step back into the rain.

you would have thought the weather to be quite fitting for the occasion were the wind not blowing pointed raindrops directly into your eyes. you hold out your hands to block it, but everything seeps through, the cold water and the gale, destroying whatever bit of warmth toji’s campfire had given you. the storm asks to throw you off the edge of the world. you resist the urge to shiver and squint your eyes in vain to find the man of the hour on the beach.

you can only see the space right in front of you; had the waves not been so large and so loud, you’re convinced you would have walked right into them. there is nothing but water and wind, apocalyptic daydreams and retribution. you stand lamely, your boots sinking pathetically into the muddy sand, and wait for some great gust of wind to find the courage to blow you away.

“come on,” toji calls, but you still can’t see him. it is the half-humored ghost, the revenant, who speaks to you instead. “let’s go before you catch a cold.”

(and you? and you?)

you find his silhouette a short ways down the beach, imposing and impassable even against the melodramatic woes of nature. toji stands proudly in the furious tide and holds a rather pathetic rowboat calmly in the surf. you watch the boat sway, raindrops trailing down your cheeks like a litany of freezing tears. you do not sit inside it.

(can you? will you? will you face history? will you face the moment to come?)

toji, cool and well-intentioned, grows impatient. he glances between you and the still-empty boat and back again before he quips with failed friendliness, “you’re coming, right? or will we just stand here forever?”

you cannot answer that question. your words are frozen. he does not understand. he was not there in the autumn or any of the months that came after. he does not know what it was like when the summer chill left and there were a few fleeting days of golden bliss before winter moved in. everyone had rejoiced then. it was the warmest weekend in months. even the printing master and his wife took the days off to wander down the beach and hunt boars in the woods. sailors cried and filled the pubs with their stolen money. those were beautiful days, before winter. so many people fell in love.

but that was the thing. he never came knocking. you waited up that night, and the night after, and there was no call at your window, and no lover at the pub. whenever you turned a corner it was empty. it took you hours to bring yourself to buy that damned fish and, because you were late, the printing master never let you try it. it wouldn’t have mattered, anyways. nothing you ate made you whole.

you used to collect stories like butterflies and press them against the discarded paper beneath your bed. you memorized them carefully, practicing your intonation and your emphasis, always ready for his arrival. but then dinner would come and go and you would not have a visitor. and then, clutching the unspoken words to your chest, you would remember.

there was only your set of footprints on the beach and only your eyes making up myths about the waves. when you turned around in the hopes that the thing out of the corner of your eye was a body, no one was waiting. there never would be. every call of your name was an illusion, a story you told yourself to keep your heart from caving in.

he was not your great lover, you insisted. you always knew you were lying.

the worst was when they looked at you with such pity when they thought you wouldn’t notice. at the pub, the empty seat beside you stood like an omen: here lied the one who took his money and ran. he brought nothing with him but left everything behind. he would never know the way the one-eyed pirate always looked like he might mourn for you, poor thing, the one who could never follow. when he told his stories there was a sort of delicacy in them, as if he knew his words were the only thing that still held you together.

but then he left, too, and you were alone.

but that is how it always was at sea. just passing through faces on your way to somewhere else. you were used to the transience, watching time pass in changes and transformations; in the arrival of a ship and its departure; in the cycle of the sun, with its blood-red light illuminating the harbor. he placed his loyalty at your feet, but in the end, only your stagnation was constant. you never advanced in your practice beneath the printing master. you wavered outside bars and brothels, but someone or something never came home.

you learned to live with it, eventually. you had to in places like that. when you bought those bitter apples, you fed the extras to the waves. sometimes you told your shadow about the sailboats moving in circles or the gulls that loomed overhead, but it was never a terribly good listener. when you went to bed, you learned how to sleep better when the other side was empty.

but he never would have known any of it; not how you wept, or how you hated yourself for weeping, or how you told yourself stories with the sole comfort that they still might come true. he would never have seen you learn to stand by yourself again. he never would have seen the way you tried to convince yourself you didn’t need a future at all.

that empty space became a weapon, once, until you went and lost it.

“are you okay?” toji asks again. you wish you could tear apart his concern, his lightheartedness, his ease. “don’t worry about the weather. i’m a good sailor, i promise.”

(he doesn’t know. how could he? about all the weeks you wanted to die because he did not take you with him and did not want to come home?)

“yes,” you say, empty. “sorry.” but you are not sorry, and you are not shaking from the cold. with movements beyond understanding you heave yourself defeatedly into the soggy boat, and in the next instant, toji pushes you both out to sea.

you watch, sickened, as the coastline disappears behind a curtain of rain. water collects in the bottom of the vessel, but no one pays it any mind. the boat rocks dangerously against the knife-sharp waves when they drench your face and your clothes. you perish; toji does not care. he dips his oars into the water and out again, methodically, distantly, locked in an unforgivable trance. if the boat threatens to capsize, toji wordlessly rights it again. he keeps his gaze trained on the space behind you; you watch the last threads of safety disappear beyond his shoulder.

your grip the rowboat so tightly you reckon you might break your fingers. it sways like a pendulum, a powerless victim of the iron sea, and you close your eyes as another wave crashes over the side and melts through your bones.

“it’s not too far from here,” you think toji calls, but it’s hard to discern the sound of his voice from the screech of the wind and the roar of the rainfall.

you watch the rhythmic motion of his arms to ground yourself. you are scared to look into those dampened eyes because you are no longer sure what you will find there. you brace yourself sorrowfully as another ghastly wave says good evening to your boat. had you not spent the better part of a year on the water, you would have thrown up everything you had over the side; but you, harder, wiser, know better now. these days, the sickness stems from a different source.

“so you have your own ship now?” you yell over the storm to distract yourself from the encroaching fear of your impending doom.

despite his intense focus, toji rigidly shakes his head. “no, it’s not mine. i’m not the captain.”

“what?” but you always said differently. you were the old man of the sea for me. you would make a name for yourself, own the water, wrap your stories around yourself like a comfortable scarf. you were the strongest; there was nowhere you wouldn’t go, nothing you wouldn’t capture, to make sure the legends bowed at your feet. but you say none of it, your reservoirs empty, your body shivering and cold. you do not ask him why his aspirations were wrong or why he ever decided he could settle. you bite the dream; it tastes sour. “i always imagined that you owned your own ship.”

toji smiles ruefully, the sort of heartbroken grin that one achieves only after their back has been broken by time. “me too. but reality always hits a lot different than myth, you know.”

you say nothing. the sound of rain piercing the water amplifies until you hear nothing else, until you know nothing else. you cannot see anything beyond the edge of the boat. for all you know, tengen’s nest finally sank into the sea. somewhere off in the distance, you catch the distant rumble of thunder as it reverberates across the waves.

you ignore the uncomfortable, sliming, slithering feeling of your wet clothes on your back. everything slides away from you; your blood mixes with rain, your hands find no purchase. you are dissolving, disappearing, a ghost without tangibility and a love without a partner. if you let go of the boat you would simply die in fragments the way petals fall from flowers when they are tired of being in bloom.

(and him? and you? and the silent space between it?)

“so,” you yell over the rain, ignoring the ice that clenches your chest and asks you to stop breathing, “if you’re not in charge, then who’s your captain?”

toji does not respond. he does not even bother to look at you. he rows faithfully, oars cutting the petulant waves, continuing straight ahead as if he hadn’t even heard you. he keeps his head down and his expression hidden. there is nothing that could stop him from reaching his vessel; not you, not tengen, not dying.

you frown and lean forward. perhaps he will answer to a different question. “what does your ship look like?”

but there is still no reply. another stony wave cracks and dissolves against the side of your frozen face. you know he can hear you; that he is listening; that he knows. but his silence tortures you. his resistance to your curiosity tells you more than any story could ever reveal. still you writhe in agony, a prisoner to the emptiness, caught on the other side of a barrier you cannot shake loose.

“who is your captain?” you repeat, calmly, but you are terrified to cross the threshold.

toji doesn’t look at you when he assures you, calmly, rehearsed, “don’t worry about it. there’s medicine on board, and i’ll get you dry clothes. sit back and rest, okay? i’d feel bad if those wounds got any worse before we get there.”

but that’s not what i wanted, and you know it, and you know you aren’t listening. your migraine intensifies the more you look at him, but you no longer possess the courage to ask the question and you do not have the strength to hear the answer. to pursue the thread might break the silence that sits between peace and reality. are you ready? toji rows the boat through the storm and you inhale smoke and saltwater, heartbreak and helpless desperation.

i’m not dead yet, you see, i may not even be bleeding, you want to comfort him, but your words would mean nothing. you’re not even sure if toji would hear them. still, the longer you watch him sail and the more the water gathers in the bottom of the boat, you cannot help it. you blurt, against your better judgement: “are you sure about this?”

“why wouldn’t i be sure?” the response is indignant, grasping at straws, huffed by lips that aren’t his own. you think there’s a visceral fear in toji’s eyes that you’re going to jump overboard and leave the whole mission behind. he pauses for only an instant.

(but why would he fear it, when he never did before? how do you leave home and then refuse it in another?)

toji sounds too imploring when he asks, “don’t you trust me?”

that’s not it and it never was. you do not appreciate the accusation on his lips, but you say nothing about it. you bite your lip as water trails down your cheeks and kisses your teeth. “i just–” you pause. how to go about it? “you know, i just wonder if we should…look for my friends instead? i lost them back on the island…if we could find them, they’d be able to help us – and if everyone’s held their word, sukuna should be there for us too…”

but, just as you expected, toji nearly loses his shit. one of the oars threatens to snap beneath his fury. he turns into stone, eyes stormy and morose and troubled, a pair of haunted narcissus pools. he breathes fire between clenched teeth and holds himself like a dying animal still feral for life in a cage. the name is poison to him. you had to make sure.

“absolutely not,” toji insists with newfound aggression. there is no room in his answer to argue; he is a man prepared to kill. “we are not going to that fucking bastard, absolutely fucking not, no, not after all this time, i’d rather capsize this fucking boat–”

“toji,” you prod gently, “but don’t you want to see your son again?”

the world stops. there is no wind, no wave, no rain, not anymore; though it cuts you and assails you, you no longer notice. toji’s oars lie limp in his hands. he stares at you, emerald eyes vacant and empty, as if you had just summoned a ghost. you do not know if he wants to cry with you or kill you or both all at once. you watch toji wrestle with the other thing and you watch him tell himself not to crack.

toji says, quite slowly, the words dangerous to him, “what do you mean?”

there is no hope in being soft. being silent never got you anywhere. “why else did you come to tengen’s nest, if not for me or for him?”

vacancy and restraint melts into genuine confusion. “what?”

you see red. you see the bodies on the floor, all of them, everyone between you and the blonde man’s surrender. you see hot sand on the beach, tears you did not shed, lives you could not beg for. you see yourself in the looking-glass, tattered and bloody and forlorn, the weight of the future still too heavy on your shoulders. there is all of it: every moment you bled through since you decided not to stop.

but he would not have known that, either, not the fear or the dying. he never would have known the self you gave up just to be seated in his boat. still, you cannot help it: you barely keep yourself from crying.

“megumi, your goddamn son, was in tengen’s nest. that’s why i came here. to save him, not you, not anyone. i’d been chasing your kid for fucking months until i finally found you.” you fight the hot sickness bubbling in your stomach when you push yourself over the edge. the words, loud and raw and wet and angry, roll off your tongue before you can stop them. “why, toji? why did you leave him? where the fuck did you go?”

it is always difficult to fathom the look of a man whose entire world has collapsed before him, who watches the universe he knew bleed out on the floorboards with no hope of resurrection. only by sheer miracle does toji prevent the rowboat from completely turning over as another great wave smashes against the side. neither of you care about it. his body is moving the oars, but his mind is trembling, trapped in another place, grasping for a memory he previously could not reach.

fushiguro toji frays at the seams, unravels limb by limb until there will soon be nothing left of him. there is a great fear and a great uncertainty in his onyx-emerald eyes. you have never seen toji look so defeated or so afraid. he is barely in control of his voice when he protests, “no, no. that wasn’t him. megumi’s dead. that’s what they told me. you saw someone else, that’s all.” he rows on with impassioned vigor, pulled forward by some pair of invisible strings, called forth by a siren you cannot even begin to hear.

nothing can stop it, now. still, even as the destination approaches behind you, you call out to toji, unsure as to whether you are blinking away raindrops or tears, “but toji, i saw him just a few hours ago. he looks just like you. he has your eyes.”

you see the sorrow clearly; you watch the thing that fights you, the toji that must refuse everything you tell him if he has any resolve left to survive. he is strong but not strong enough to deny the truth which ails him. although he sails onward he looks confused, lost, his face drenched with the apprehension of one wandering through an unintelligible fog without direction. you do not know how to guide him. you hope your insistence will be enough.

“that can’t–” toji repeats. for once, he sounds uncharacteristically unsure. “no. they told me–” but whatever he was going to say dies in his throat. he wants to say it, his eyes illuminated with something like violence, but nothing emerges when he opens his mouth. instead, eyes dark, he clears his throat and announces, “we’re here.”

you know better than to look too closely at the ship. toji silently sails alongside it, and, with easy and familiar movements, connects your drowning sailboat to the unintelligible system of ropes and pulleys some stranger let down so that you could be lifted back up to the deck.

silence falls, the sort of silence that permeates a room before a killer dismembers their prey. it tastes like blood and it chokes you. there is no hope in waiting now, in dreaming. the headache ravages your whole body the further you climb, spreading eagerly through your bloodstream until it nestles behind your eyes. you follow toji all the same. you are beholden to a flower you used to claim as your own and a memory of a life you could not escape. they will all understand, later. there was no way you could outrun it.

you wait until the boat is halfway to the deck before you speak again. toji fidgets across from you, his mouth moving silently in words you do not understand. he looks between his hands and the rainswept horizon and massive ship by your side. he is unreadable and beyond you; you wish you could take his hand.

“toji,” you repeat softly, the way lovers once did, “what did they tell you?”

he does not answer. the boat arrives at the deck. to your discomfort, there is no one standing where there should have been another sailor handling the pulleys and the ropes. there is no one in the watchtower and no light emanating from the captain’s quarters. the entire deck is empty, slick and shiny with a thick layer of rain. overhead, thunder rumbles lazily, as if it were only just now stretching its limbs and saying good morning to the night. other than the growl, you find nothing but a deadly quiet.

unwillingly, knowingly, you follow toji out of the rowboat. the deck sways gently beneath your feet, rocking like a child to the sordid rhythm of the waves. a bright flash of lightning illuminates the massive black sails overhead before they disappear into clammy darkness again. you struggle to tear your eyes away from them as you follow toji across the floor.

“who told you, toji?” you try again to no avail. he is beyond you, body and soul. toji does not even acknowledge your presence, but whispers agitatedly to himself, his hands shaking violently as he opens a nondescript door and begins to descend a narrow staircase.

inside, even footsteps do not echo off the walls. the air stagnates in a silence so great, an emptiness so vast, that sound does not survive and natural light does not enter. there is no awareness of the body and no respect for the mind. there is no past and no future in the hell outside of time.

the wind pushes the door shut behind you and you are left in total darkness save for a handful of dimly lit ruby lamps. beneath their tepid burgundy glow, you cannot see the stairs; when you hold out a hand in front of you, you can barely count your fingers. ahead, toji’s broad shoulders just barely brush against the narrow walls as he descends, tense, rotten. you do not even know if he remembers you anymore.

“toji,” you try again, your voice firmer in the confined space. you sound damned against the walls. “who is your captain? what did they tell you?”

“you don’t understand,” toji spits, but he is talking at you, not to you. his words are disjointed, rough around the edges, spoken through an echo and reverberated back again. he continues to descend, bypassing the equally vacant sleeping quarters and dropping further, further, into the pit. you do not know how far you follow him. it is only after a lifetime that the staircase finally throws you out at the very bottom of the vessel.

although you can hardly see shit in the lamps’ wine-red glow, judging by the multitudes of crates and unopened boxes crowded against the walls, you think it’s the storage room, no medicine in sight. toji wanders between piles of unmarked boxes but does not touch them. he has not touched anything all evening, and you think you know why.

you watch him meditatively before you try, “toji–”

“no.” toji’s eyes are wild, dilated, haunted. “that couldn’t have been him. you’re lying. he said that sukuna killed me and that megumi died not long after.” he steps towards you and away again, unteady on his feet. a layer of sweat bleeds through his soaked clothes. “he killed me, and megumi’s dead, and now he’s going to get you too. that’s what the captain said– that’s why –” his hands are shaking. he cannot even begin to open his mouth, to form the sentence. he chokes on his own misery. “i had to find you– to bring you here, to stop you– no, he said, to save you…”

he does not look like himself. he is, trembling, aching, collapsing, the automaton that threatens to snap in opposition to the laws of physics. the red lamps cruelly highlight toji’s incoherently forsaken face; his eyes are green and dark and bloody, his body beyond his control, his consciousness melting. he does not see you or the ship or any of it anymore. you do not know where toji is, what he sees, but he repeats it to himself like a mantra: he’s dead, he killed me, he’s dead. that’s why, you see, that’s why he said i had to claim my vengeance–

he’s dead, but he’s not, he killed me, but he couldn’t. there was a world beyond you both, once, one with a diamond treasure and a future. you remember often the times when you dreamed. those were beautiful reveries, of walks on the beach, of making love beneath the stars, of holding someone with the same grace that they held you. sometimes, in those narcotic fantasies, you swore your love with a passion that could have swallowed any star.

you cannot wish for it, not anymore, not when there lies the space between you with a silence beyond measure. there stands fushiguro toji, hollowed, quaking, and you will dream of him no longer. you reach out and grab his arm, your icy fingers digging into his wet shirtsleeves, your palm pressed firmly against once-familiar skin.

be still, you beg, be still: for i am your anchor, and i will bring you home.

beneath your touch, like a glass under too much pressure, a curse fractures. you feel it slither through you before it leaves the room, that foul thing which shrivels inside him. the longer you hold him, the more toji empties. his emerald eyes widen with the sort of dismay of one awakening from a nightmare, and, for the first time in years, you find toji, the old pink scar and the determination, the reckless nature before a fall.

(proteus, you had whispered, once, when you played the fool. you’re almost proteus.

old man of the sea, he had repeated, once, when he was whole. has a nice ring to it.)

you know him, you know. there was never a time you could escape it. there was never a time you would not have followed the strongest to see where he goes. you know the price, though. the lotus always tasted bitter against the roof of your mouth.

“toji,” you repeat, “who is your captain?”

toji opens his mouth to answer, to recognize you for the first time, to reclaim the self he once thought he had lost: and then, with the turn of the hours, with the culling of time, the arrival of the suitor smothers you both from upstairs.

#toji x reader #jjk x reader #jjk x you #tw blood #tw violence #tw sad #the odyssey!

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witch-hazels-musings · 3 years

Note

i dunno if requests are still open but if they are, could i request this? if not, feel free to delete! but in case they are open here's the request: jean, beidou, and ganyu reacting to accidentally hurting their s/o? it could be anything from simple slap in the face while turning around or hurting them with their vision/weapon :]

Accidents

(ouchie -- having them accidentally hurt the reader T.T -- they didn’t mean too!)

Warning -> SFW, accidental injury (Character -> Reader)(face injury (Jean)), (meantions of cuts to face / arms (Ganyu)), (hit by rope (Beidou))

Character X GN Reader | Anthology

Includes: Beidou, Jean, Ganyu

Beidou

She takes pride in keeping everyone on her crew safe, no matter the danger - on sea or land, she will fight and guard each person in her charge -- you are no exception and in fact, you are probably the one she fights the hardest for. The thought of seeing you hurt doesn’t sit well with her and, if she can control it, she’d never let it happen

How could she have known that she’d be the one to cause you discomfort -- that she’d end up allowing you to get hurt because she let something slip through her fingers … pride was a strong emotion, but guilt could send a pirate to the bottom of the ocean

The weather had made a sudden turn for the worst. Dark clouds rolled overhead as the crew furled the sales to protect them from the downpour that was bound to arrive any second now.

“Captain!” Beidou’s attention shifted to the crow's nest, her scout pointing violently toward a massive cumulus cloud in the distance. She knew it was bound to smash right them if they maintained this heading, so in an effort to avoid it, she ran toward the bow barking orders.

“Tack to starboard! Finnick,” She turned to point at the several crew waiting on the foredeck, “raise the spinnaker, now.” They quickly bustled to their jobs while she found herself at the head of the boat. Her arms crossed as she oversaw the work of her crew; great pride swelling in her chest to see how organized they were even without her voice like a well-oiled machine everyone did their part.

As the creaking boat turned, heading parallel now to the storm, Beidou hoped that it would stay on its heading so the Crux wouldn’t have to bear the brunt of its onslaught. It was now a waiting game, but if she knew anything about the ocean - it would be a win for her today.

Just then, a rope tying one of the many large sails snapped. Its reaction was like a domino effect and soon all hands were rushing to stop a potentially catastrophic outcome. Leaping over the railing, she landed hard onto the deck below, her feet finding solid ground long enough for her to push forward and, before the other crew had a chance to react, she was already climbing the mainmast as if it were a simple tree. It took her no time at all to reach the issue but the strong winds continued to whip around the ropes below her and by the time she managed to capture them - her eyes fell onto your frame.

In terrible slow motion, she watched as you reached for the rope only to have it collide into your chest and knock you back into another crew member. Her heart sank, her arms burned, her determination steadfast as she made quick work of the problem before dropping back down to you.

“Are you alright?” Someone called, their hands reaching to you as if to offer some assistance but Beidou knocked them away. Orders were told, tasks were assigned, and before you could object, she carried you into her quarters.

When the door closed and she sat you on her bed, you could already tell how upset she was. “Beidou -- it was an accident, I didn’t have good footing and …” She uncrossed your arms, you didn’t even realize that you were holding onto your chest. Carefully peeling back your tunic, she noticed the welt that was starting to grow in the area below your collarbone. With a huff, she walked away before returning with a cloth. “You’re being silly, it’s not that ba-AD!” You shouted, the cold material shocking you as it came into contact with your burning injury.

“This could have been much worse. You’re lucky it only bruised the surface.” Sitting next to you, she rested her knee near your lower back, and the warmth of her leg as she moved close to you somehow offset the ice on your chest.

“I’m just upset I didn’t grab it, it was right there and then … ah - that’s sore.” She tested your shoulder, pushing against it with her palm and shaking her head at the notion that you were going to have a painful recovery.

“You are a member of this crew and I have sworn an oath to protect you, but …” Her head dropped and she found it hard to continue. 'How could I let this happen' was written all over her expression.

“Hey, it wasn’t your fault. You’re an excellent captain.”

“A captain keeps her ship on course, its belly full, and its crew happy. How can I do that when my happiness is your wellbeing?” Her fingers ran over your ear, slipping in between the locks of your hair as if to show you how much she cherished you. Carefully, she leaned toward you, her lips connecting softly onto your shoulder as they trailed a path to your injury and even in the numbness of it you were still able to feel the heat from her love. “If you are ever out of your depth, allow me to be your lifeline.”

“Of course, as long as you trust me to know when I'm there.”

“Within reason.” As the boat rocked on the sea and the sky rumbled far into the distance, you captured the steady heart of the captain.

Jean

Jean would never intentionally harm you, the thought of putting someone innocent in danger makes her sick - as the acting Grandmaster she has a sworn duty to protect everyone around her from those who would do them harm

So when she's the one who caused your injury, she's beside herself with regret

She stood in her office, her back to the door as she let her mind wander on all the things that needed to be done. It was never-ending, and while she was always fulfilled by the products of her work, she often pushed herself so far that her body and mind became clouded.

Today was one of those days. The work, planning, problem-solving was weighing on her. There is never enough time, she thought to herself as she rested her head in her hand and squeezed tighter around her rib cage. She was distracted, so exhausted that her ears felt blocked, her body swayed even though she knew she wasn't moving, and her head throbbed.

"Jean ..." What needed to be done first, she pinched her nose and through harder. "Jean?" She sighed and attempted to stop the voices in her head.

"Jean, hey?" A hand touched her arm and in her daze, she turned suddenly. Her hand was further from her face than she expected and with a solid smack, she hit something.

"Ah!" Your startled voice shook her back to understanding, your expression and hand now covering your face sent her heart in the pit of her stomach.

"Y/N? I'm so sorry ..." She rested her hand on your arm and shakily reached for your face, her fingers tenderly touching the ones that hid you from her pained eyes. "I didn't -- are you badly hurt?"

"Ouch, you got me really good." You explained, scrunching and circling your nose but allowing her to take your hand.

"My mind was elsewhere, I am ... I'm sorry." She ran her hands over your face, the warm feeling of wind slipping from her fingers and soon your expression eased.

"Thanks, It was an accident, don't worry."

"An accident like this should have never occurred, it is unbecoming of me to allow myself to falter." She stepped away from you, afraid that any prolonged contact would make it worse.

"Jean, you're allowed to make mistakes, and look - I'm fine, see." You grinned proudly but she couldn't let it go.

"I need to make amends."

"Mmm, well then, I have an idea."

"What is it?" She looked at you hopeful, her eyes watching you as you stepped closer.

"I'll take a kiss as an apology." You tapped the side of your cheek and presented it to her.

With hesitating hands, she rested her fingers on the other side of your cheek and let her lips touch the skin she hurt, "I will be more observant in the future."

You turned your head, your face so close you could feel her breath, "I don't see how that's possible, but if it means I get to have more of your attention, I'll be okay with that."

You kissed her and wondered if she was able to heal through her lips.

Ganyu

The absolute sweetest soul in all of Teyvat. She cares deeply for all things, works hard to get the job done, and is dedicated in her actions - it's one reason why her contract with Rex Lapis was drafted; she is the epitome of ____

She would never maliciously hurt those around her and often puts herself in harm's way to keep others safe

To her, causing harm to someone she adores, loves, cherishes would be as severe as breaking her contract

The two of you ran through the field, your legs burning as you dashed across the landscape and away from your persistent pursuers.

"Ganyu! Up ahead!" You shouted, pointing to the higher ground and dashing in that direction. She followed, keeping an eye out on the enemies behind. To buy some time, she laid down her tantalizing cryo flower before picking up her pace to reach you.

"From here we can handle them more easily, just be ready." She nodded her head and pulled back her bow, ready to strike.

The fight was far more doable in this arena, each enemy falling one after another as the two of you fought in perfect sync. Charging her shot, she saw the ideal opportunity to hit multiple targets at once, but as soon as her arrow flew so did you.

"Y/N!" She shouted but you were too far away and, as soon as you reached them, prepping your sword for a swing, the arrow exploded hitting everything in its path. You yelled, sliding on the ground only to slam hard into the dusty surface. In an instant, everything that Ganyu was, and wasn't, aiming for fell.

Rushing forward, she reached you and quickly assessed your condition. Her hands hovering, her eyes scanning only to find the damage she had caused. Several small cuts appeared on your face, your arms were equally damaged and the despair that filled her was so great she prostrated herself before you. Her head resting on your hips as she bowed deeply.

"Ga-Ganyu? What are you doing?" You asked, setting your sword to the side as you looked down at her.

"I hurt you, please forgive me." You tried to pull her up but she shook her head and dug in deeper into her display.

"It was an accident, I wasn't looking and that was a good shot. I'm not hurt."

"You are!" She shot up, her eyes looking at the marks that she had created on your skin. "It was my fault that you have -- if-if they leave a scar ... I ..." She shook her head, unable to finish her thought.

"Ganyu ... they won't leave a scar, and even if they did, don't you think I'd look super cool?" You smiled but she hated it.

"It's not acceptable ... if you'd like to d-dismantle our contract, I understa-"

You wrapped your arms around her, squeezing tightly as you spoke. "I don't want that, I'd never want that. I need you, please don't ever think I'd be okay if you weren't at my side." After a moment, she returned the gesture and you felt the pressure of her nose dig into your neck. When she finally pulled away, you let your hands slide down her arms and rest into her delicate hands.

"I'll just have to practice harder." She nodded fiercely as she helped you stand up.

"If you insist." You laughed, thinking to yourself when she would ever find the time to do that.

tag list:

@clemmywrites @sufzku @plenilunegazes @lucacandy @marianadibenea @nonniechan @jaemjenjam @softlybeloved @excitedlysuffering

#genshin impact #genshin impact X reader #genshin impact headcanons #genshin impact musings #genshin impact fiction #genshin impact ganyu #ganyu #ganyu x reader #jean #genshin jean #jean x reader #beidou #genshin beidou #beidou x reader

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literaryspinster · 2 years

Text

Preview: Something In The Water Ch. 6

I hope you enjoy this 1000 word snippet, the whole thing should be posted by next week, provided nothing comes up. Konstantin Kovar had a diary, and Dick’s going to find it. He’s been looking for answers everywhere he can think of, reading into Konstantin’s past, his family in Eastern Europe, former jobs. But all his digging has led to is a corkboard of photos and notecards strangled by an incomprehensible lattice of red string, the sort of set up that looks a lot more useful and productive than it is, at least for the time being.

To make things worse, the fingerprints dusted on the lip of the bathtub and the DNA samples collected from the site have all come back as either belonging to Konstantin, or inconclusive. Not even Kovar’s laptop or cell phone contained any potential clues aside from a slightly troubling search history on xvideos.

None of the frenzied tips called into the station unearthed anything of consequence either. One caller swore he saw the killer in a dream, another thought it may have been the work of pirates, and the rest were even less believable than that. The worst calls though, are the frightened ones. Most people on the island are still normal it seems, and worried that the killer may come for them next, or the people they love. Not everyone can just leave at a moment's notice after all. Their livelihood is here, their everything is here. It’s for them, and for Rachel, that he presses on.

Unfortunately, the only lead that seems like it might bring something to light at the moment is that diary, which still can’t be found, unless…

“The diary, did it have a metal clasp on it? A lock maybe?” he asks Cheryl the flight attendant, over the phone. She’s audibly exasperated to hear from him again, but polite about it at least. It’s a long shot, but if the victim left it in the sand somewhere before the incident, then the precinct’s metal detector should do the trick.

There’ll be another sweep on monday for the murder weapon, directly around the site and in the adjacent caverns, and he wants to make sure his team knows that there’s more than just a pair of cuffs to be on the lookout for. Ricky the beachcomber has been on his usual task every morning, and was given the instruction to deliver any potential evidence to the station, although his personal jurisdiction doesn’t extend past the beach. If the department can't find the diary and the cuffs near the lighthouse, it’s back to square one.

After a long pause, Cheryl answers. “It’s difficult to remember, but I think it may have,” she says, the end going up like a question. Despite the uncertainty it’s enough of a yes for now. He hangs up the phone and rubs his temples, shutting his eyes to the mess across his desk, stacks and stacks of papers, a white mug stained with coffee, a laptop with so many open tabs that they only fit a letter each.

It’s been a chaotic week. The population has seen a 23 percent increase for the summer (down from the usual 25 but not by nearly as much as he’d hoped), and the lighthouse is still shut down until it can be cleared for the new keeper, Sanger something or other, to move in and resume work. Turns out it’s more complicated than it looks being vintage engineering and all.

With the delivery boats unable to arrive at night, the traffic around the harbor is noisy and constant throughout the day, setting him further on edge. It’s been nearly twelve hours, and if he doesn’t stop then the chief is going to throw him out by force. He needs to spend some time with Rachel anyway, he told her he’d try his best to make the thing tonight. It’s never really been his jam– or Rachel’s for that matter– but neither is letting three rambunctious teenagers run amok unsupervised all night long.

As soon as Deputy Kent arrives to work the night shift, Dick grabs his keys, wishes him a good night, and heads for the car. He decides not to stop at home first, even though he must be a fright, or the closest thing possible for a guy who looks like him; there’s faint circles underneath his eyes, his hair is ruffled, overlong and hanging down over his forehead like some dreamy punk in a 90s teen drama, his shirt is in dire need of a press. But it’s already pushing 830 and he could use a drink more than a comb and a splash of water on his face.

And if Kory shows up, well, he just hopes she likes dreamy 90s punks.

It feels insane to admit he’s been thinking about her, all the while he’s supposed to be thinking of nothing but Konstantin, and solving this case so he can take Rachel home. But insane or not, she’s been on his mind off and on for days, mostly on if he’s being honest with himself. He’ll be scrolling through crime scene photos, obsessed with the possibility that he’s missed something, and suddenly he’ll picture that smile, so honest and easy. Or the scent of her hair that he caught a faint whiff of when she leaned in close to him. It smelled like sea breezes, somehow both the cocktail and the real thing in equal measure.

He shouldn’t have ran off that night. He should have gotten to know her, pushed work aside for long enough to find out what movies she likes, what sort of humor makes her smile spread wider, if her skin is as soft as it looks…

“Stop being a perv Grayson,” he says to himself as he parks the car alongside the Marina.

#dickkory #dick grayson #kory anders #dickkory fanfic #titans #starfire #nightwing

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bepisbee · 3 years

Text

Poly Pirate AU

okokok sooooo I might have re watched some POTC and brain go bbrrrrr so theres an info dump about a pirates au thats Vio x Shadow x Green

Vio’s ship captain first mate Shadow converted Green from knighthood onto their ship

Just before they leave port he pulls out an older tunic he’d used to wear a child playing swordsman. A tattered green tunic sleeveless, with an undershirt. Tan work pants, classic brown pirate boots. His bag and some supplies. He’s just in line with the rest of the crew and the one or two crew they’d hired on at the port. Most dangerous poly pirate squad across the seas. Green gets a matching snake tattoo in green on his side.

Vio’s a very affluent pirate having come from a wealthy family forced into high education with his whole life planned for him. Until he met Shadow one day after sneaking out to a beach. Shadow was a rough boy who’d lived his life more on a boat than land. He’d been left on the beach after his crew drifted into a huge storm and their boat got wrecked af. Vio brings him food everyday and eventually sneaks him into his home to help him heal. Feeling alive through Shadow’s stories for the first time in years and years he decides he wants to toss away his boring life and join his new boyfriend on the seas. (maybe angst between them about Shadow craving to be back to his life??) Vio takes all of his inheritance out of his father’s vault and some jewels. Claiming to be taking on the business personally from his own volition. He gets his ear pierced by Shadow and Shadow gives him an earring that was from his mother and means so much to him. (Basically a marriage proposal) and they sneak away into another port (think Tortooga) and commandeer a medium trade ship and crew. They have matching tattoos of black and purple snakes on their sides/hips.

The business Vio’s father ran was trade ships and Vio takes over his caches and begins trading contraband under the guise of the legitimate title. They only grow closer and closer. Vio so well with his words. They've taken up a few other lovers across ports but no one they liked enough to really come with on board. Until Green. A knight who only has known knighthood forever. Since he could remember. A bit older than the other two; the queen’s personal guard (Zelda). He saw Vio the first time joining her during a traders meeting while they were in court. And then Shadow that night at the local bar. Prowling out contacts, spreading channels, seeking the right kind of people. Shadow wears charcoal eyeliner 10/10. Drunk make outs with him until the barmaid (Malon perhaps?) kicks them out of her storeroom chastising Shadow (old friends for sure definitely know each other). He sees what he wanted to be as a child. Someone making a difference. Someone doing what they wanted when they wanted, big big adventure.

He finds them together a few times as they come back and forth through port, after talking and sparring a few times Green was smitten. Arguing and fighting with Zelda ensues about the boys and how they’re actually pirate tradesmen but she lets it go for the morale of her country since it was all product like rum and banned literature.

An old argument. Of loyalty and demand. The words that Green would never say no to. It was not in his blood and it was not how he lived. However eyes light anew with the promise of the world. “How dare you think you can defy me? I have told you time again who and what exactly they are. They are tainted, soulless pirates. I command you to not see them again.”

“You can command me, and command my body to do as you please as I am your hand, and I am your sword. But you may not command my heart, and you may not command my soul.”

Green stays on board their ship that night. And he stays overnight (eyebrow wiggle) that night. The next time they enter Hyrule port Green defects, quitting with a well flourished letter. (witty af when he wants to be. One of the few that can match Vio word for word part of what makes them click and turns Vio onto him).

#drabble #idk #i like pirate aus #pirate au #vidow #polyamory #vio link #shadow link #green link #zelda #legend of zelda #vio x shadow x green #chili writes

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jaceyneedsabetterusername · 4 years

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KILL4ME

Pairings: Johnny Depp x Reader (and kind of x female!OC but that’s not the main focus of anything)

Summary: You're a new actress trying to get your start. You end up getting your first role cast in a music video for Marilyn Manson’s “KILL4ME” music video but it turns out to be much more than you expected.

Warnings: SMUT (male x female, female x female)

A/N: 1) I made the reader straight with no prior female x female experiences. I don’t know why if I’m being honest but that’s how it is so please don’t come at me for it. 2) This is NOT how the film industry should work. If you’re trying to get into the industry, please stay safe, be responsible, and recognize red flags. Typically, randomly popping up pornographic requests is NOT professional or safe. This is just a fantasy I had while watching the music video and was written this way strictly for entertainment purposes.

Word Count: 5696

__________________________

This project requires nudity and sexual scenes. If you are not comfortable, do not apply.

The warning had been clear as day and yet, here you were, sitting in your car at the old mansion that was the filming site, nerves going off the charts and feeling less than comfortable with the imminent nudity and sexual scenes. You were an actor, you reminded yourself. This was the only job you’d landed since arriving in Los Angeles and, despite your promises to yourself and your family that you wouldn’t resort to full nudity for a project, there were bills that needed paying and your waitressing job wasn’t cutting it.

Besides, shouldn’t you be thrilled? This wasn’t just any music video you’d landed a role in but a music video for Marilyn Manson! He was a goth rock legend and you couldn’t hide your excitement when you’d found out who you’d been booked to work for.

But still, the nudity and sexuality made you uneasy. There hadn’t been a script or anything. Your only instructions were to come looking your best and with an open, ready to work mindset. So here you were, physically feeling like a million bucks but butterflies going crazy within.

Inhaling a deep, calming breath, you opened the door to your barely working 2008 Honda Civic, feeling even more self-conscious when you saw the other cars that were parked outside of the massive mansion were all beautiful and sleek, most of them black and very expensive looking.

Crew members stirred around outside, entering and exiting the house with lights and props and sound equipment, everything needed for the production. You walked through the large black door that led into the beautiful white mansion, opening into an equally fantastic interior. You audibly gasped, “This is beautiful…”

“Y/N?” A woman’s voice questioned from beside you and you spun quickly to face her, snapping out of your amazed daze.

“Yes.” You answered hastily.

She checked the clipboard in her hand, “Great, you’re right on time. Come right this way, we’re gonna get you into hair and makeup.” You were about to reply when she’d taken off down the hall without giving you a moment to speak so you followed, avoiding the moving equipment around you.

Before you knew it, you’d been whisked away into a small room that was full of makeup, hair styling tools, and costumes. Nobody told you what they were doing as they pulled your hair straight and did up your makeup, surprisingly simpler than you’d expected with just light eyeshadow and moderate eyeliner.

“Alrighty, now I’m gonna have you undress and put on that robe over there.” The man in charge of costumes directed.

Your brows furrowed, “How undressed?”

“All the way, sweetie. No panties, no bra. It’s all gotta go.” He must have seen the uneasy look on your face because he gave you an unsympathetic shrug, “You signed up for a nude project, hun. Welcome to Hollywood.”

“Y/N is here. I believe that’s it, Mr. Manson.” The same woman as earlier announced as you entered the room you were supposed to be briefed in. It took everything in your power to remain professional when you saw Marilyn Manson standing there, talking casually with another girl who you assumed to be a co-star.

Like you, his makeup was already done up and he was in full costume. His face was painted pale white with a black loop drawn across one half and his other half blank except for the unnaturally blue contact and dark panda-like eyeliner. His lips were stained bright red and you almost felt like you were looking at a picture of him online.

“Thank you, Yolanda.” None other than The Marilyn Manson (and yes, “The” was now an official part of his name in your mind) thanked the woman who you assumed to be an assistant. “Come on in, Y/N.” He beckoned you into the room and you tried to front your most professional, most confident face but the way you held your robe tight to your body gave you away.

“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Manson.” You came up, reaching to shake his hand, “It’s a real honor to get to work with you.” Kiss ass, you muttered to yourself.

Instead of shaking your hand, he simply waved his hand in the air, “Ah, the pleasantries. I hope it will be a pleasure to work with you as well.”

You retracted your extended hand awkwardly, unsure of whether or not that was a blow off or him just being mysterious and cool, and scuttled to stand with the other girl. She was beautiful and blonde, tall and thin. Model-esque. You felt insecure next to her, especially in front of someone as influential as Manson. You were just you, an inexperienced actress-to-be, on her first professional job with a bunch of people who definitely knew their way around a camera.

“Alright, so I know you came here with minimal details,” Marilyn began, a weirdly neutral look on his very painted face, his tone flat and low. It was hard to read him with his contacts in. “Hopefully, that’s a good sign this will work well. You’re both willing to take risks. You’re flexible. Well, I’m here to give you the details. As you know, there is nudity and sex required for this video. It will be between you two,” You stiffened up awkwardly as he gestured all too casually between the two of you, “And my old friend here.”

On cue, none other than Johnny Depp walked into the room. Your jaw visibly hit the floor. There is no fucking way. “Hello.” He greeted with a smile, the same smile that you’d seen millions of times in his movies that you’d binged every so often.

Were you the only one feeling so shocked? Why the hell was the actress next to you so calm? Why was Johnny so calm? You were about pretend to fuck Johnny fucking Depp!

Johnny stepped forward to shake your hand, “I’m Johnny, nice to meet you,” He introduced politely.

Starstruck, you took his hand, “Y/N. It’s nice to meet you as well.” Then he leaned down and kissed your hand, actually kissed your hand like a fucking gentleman, eyes never leaving yours. God, the way he looked up at you through his strands of middle parted 90’s hair… it was enough to make your breath catch.

Slowly, almost reluctantly, he moved from you to the girl next to you, “I’m Marie.” She responded to his introduction politely. He brought her hand to his lips as well but, maybe you were crazy - just imagining some fantasy, but it felt detached and fast when he did it to her.

“Great, well now that we all know each other,” Marilyn interjected as Johnny moved back to stand by his friend, “I’ll continue. I’ve already shot my parts so I’ll be here to direct you if needed but I want this as natural as possible. Aside from a few artistic shots, I need this to be raw, primal, and absolutely fucking filthy.”

You and Marie listened on in intent silence, soaking in his every word. But you found it hard to focus when, out of the corner of your eye, you saw Johnny eyeing you. No, no, it couldn’t be. He was probably just zoned out behind you.

***

A few hours later, all of the artistic shots had been done. There were shots of you pulling up thigh high stockings that clipped onto the garter belts hanging from your nearly sheer black underwear and having a leather corset tightened tightly on your back, cinching your waist smaller than you’d ever seen it. You had put on massively high heels and large, luxurious costume jewelry.

Even though the outfit could be seen as objectifying, you’d never felt more confident or powerful in your life. After your last shot of just your nearly bare thighs, you were dismissed momentarily so Marie could film her sections.

You walked over to your bag and took out a water bottle, not realizing how much this took out of you, running the same seemingly simple shots over and over again under blaring lights. “How long have you been acting?”

Oh God. It was him.

You turned to see Johnny standing next to you, very close, much closer than was considered polite distance but not so close that you felt suffocated. He looked gorgeous, hair hanging perfect from his beautiful tan skin. Earrings hung from his lobes, dangling just slightly. His white button up shirt was only buttoned half way, showing off his smooth, toned chest that barely showed any signs of his older age (not that he was ancient but he was definitely on your list of celebrities over 45 that you would let rail you). But the cherry on top was the eyeliner. The fucking eyeliner. It took you back to so many of his characters that you’d fallen in love with but with the white shirt and earrings, you were getting almost a refined Jack Sparrow crossed with Sweeney Todd feeling and God you’d never been so turned on by a pirate/ serial killer.

“You okay?” He asked, and you blinked rapidly, totally horrified that you’d been staring.

“Oh! Sorry! Um, this is my first real shoot, actually. You know how Hollywood is…” You chuckled awkwardly, reaching your hand around to rub your neck. Of course, he knew how Hollywood was, stupid! You cursed yourself, hoping you didn’t sound as dumb as you felt.

He leaned a hand up against the wall, “Yeah, I know how that is. But don’t worry, this is a great place to start.” He reassured, looking away at the set oh so casually. Your eyes trailed up his arm that had planted itself just beside you on the wall. Was he really doing what you thought he was doing?

No! He was Johnny Depp. He could have whichever woman he wanted at the bat of an eyelash. Why would he want you?

“Y/N! We’re ready for your scene with Marie!” The director called to you from behind the camera and you perked up.

“I better go.” You nodded over to the set, walking away awkwardly, almost scared that you be perceived as rude for having to do your job.

He chuckled and waved you on. This made you blush bright red and turn to run off to set.

You found yourself directed to a bed, “All right,” The director began, Marilyn standing directly next to him, hand on his chin as he watched his vision be brought to life, “Now, first, we’re going to get shots of you making out. I need it hot, I need it passionate. I don’t care if you’ve never kissed a girl before, make it look like you have. Next, we’re going to do totally nude shots of you grinding.”

Your eyelids fluttered slightly in shock at what he said. Okay, you could do that, you hyped yourself up.

Before you knew it, you were lying on the bed, Marie on top of you. Her soft lips were against yours and her nails raked gently down your throat, sending shocks down your body. Even though you were acting, it was hard to separate the feelings that arose, regardless of your sexuality. It had been a long time since anyone had touched you like this. Your hands tangled in her hair and your eyes were screwed shut.

“Cut!” The director yelled and Marie immediately pulled back, snapping out of character and back into her over-professional attitude. You, on the other hand, needed a brief moment to pull out of character. After just a second, you pushed yourself up onto your elbows, Marie still straddling you. Your breasts filled the tight push up bra you wore but you felt surprisingly comfortable in it, even around all these people. That was, until you glanced over to see Johnny standing beside Marilyn, at first looking at a monitor and reviewing footage, but then over at you, his gaze stuck on your accentuated chest.

Your face flushed red as you quickly looked away, not seeing the amused smirk that graced his face. Little did you know, he was very aware of what he was doing and very pleased with your reaction.

“That was perfect. Now we’re gonna move onto the sex scenes.” He waved you and Marie over and you obeyed once she climbed off your torso.

Marilyn and Johnny too came over, completing the small group. Marilyn spoke, “Now you knew there was sex and nudity and I’m very pleased with how this is turning out,” He paused, giving you both a very serious look, “But now, I’m going to ask something of you that you probably aren’t comfortable with. Usually with sex scenes, there’s fabric in place to hide cocks and shit but I don’t want any of that. It distracts actors from the scene and there’s always the issue of whether or not you see it. I want raw, I want primal, I want absolutely fucking filthy.”

He was quiet for a moment, waiting for you and Marie to piece together his request, but filling in the rest when he saw both of your professional exteriors crack in confusion, “I want you to all actually fuck. Only if you’re comfortable with it but if you’re not you’ll be paid for the work you’ve done and we’ll find someone to replace you.”

You nearly choked, “Like… porn? You want this to be porn?” Johnny chuckled to himself, seeing your embarrassed, nervous reaction. You were so cute.

He looked pensive for just a moment before nodding, “Yeah, I suppose so.” He answered bluntly, “Like I said, only if you’re comfortable with it but, if not, you’ll be fired for the rest of the video.”

Oh God, were you really about to agree to porn? Like actual fucking porn? Three way porn at that! But three porn with Johnny Depp…. It was the one thing you told yourself you wouldn’t do. But then again, your rent was due in two weeks and you were $300 short. “I’m in.” You answered, almost regretting it immediately.

“Me too.” Marie agreed, long arms crossed across her chest.

“Good. Now let’s get to it.”

The lesbian sex scene had gone by relatively hitch free, save for a few awkward placement issues. Marie, being straight as an arrow, had no clue what she was doing, and you too were inexperienced in the department but with a little direction, the scene was finished.

She knelt on her knees, holding your naked hips up and grinding your bare core against her own. Your eyes were closed, trying to remember every previous sexual encounter and porno you’d seen to try and make the sexiest faces and the sexiest form.

Johnny couldn’t take his eyes off you as you writhed on the bed, completely naked and grinding up against another beautiful woman. Everything about you looked so authentic but innocent but dirty. He found himself craving you in the most unprofessional ways as he watched your breasts bounce with every roll of your hips.

When the scene was over, you nearly jumped off the bed and rushed for your robe. You were embarrassingly wet right now, the eye contact you’d made with Johnny while having your clit rubbed was just absolutely intoxicating and you were just thankful that you were able to control yourself enough to not get your juices all over Marie.

As they changed the scene around, you stood beside Johnny and Marilyn. “Method actor?” He asked.

You cocked an eyebrow, “What do you mean?”

“You looked pretty into the scene up there. Wonder what you were thinking about…” He continued. Your heart was in your throat. His tone was dark and sultry and implied exactly what he thought you were thinking about and boy was he correct. “As a method actor myself, I completely understand your… position.”

Johnny looked down at you, his dark eyes unyielding as he dove into your very soul and could see you every fantasy.

“Okay! Everyone on set!”

Ignore the cameras, you screamed at yourself. You’re not doing porn, you’re just having a threesome with Johnny Depp and some girl named Marie. Yeah, that was a convincing story to tell yourself. Just relax in this totally normal situation. Pfft, as if.

But you were an actress. Then something occurred to you, the ghost of a voice spoke to you. It was actually words spoken by Johnny in an old interview you’d seen him do, words that had stuck with you as a foundation in your training: “The most important thing that an actor needs to do is not to act, but to react. That's what it is all about, and you do one of the most difficult things in the world, which is to just be--to be in the state of being.”

Just relax. React to the scene. Be in the scene. Hell, this wasn’t even a scene anymore. This was a secret fantasy you’d never known you’d had coming to life. There wasn’t even any acting involved. So just be.

“Action!”

Immediately in character, you caressed Marie sexually, hands running along her sides as you nipped along her neck. Now that you were the dominant character, her scantily clad body was putty in your hands. Your teeth raked along her skin and you felt her shudder beneath your touch, brushing her long blonde hair over her shoulder.

Then a quiet metallic sound drew your attention. You and Marie both looked over towards the ornate door to see Johnny standing there, looking in through the gold grated peephole.

Marie looked at you, her eyes full of question. Should you let him in? Honestly, you weren’t sure if your characters knew who he was. No! Stop, you’re not playing a character now. You’re you. You are the character.

You chewed your lip seductively and walked over, legs crossing and hips rocking as your heels clicked on the hardwood floor. You reached down, perfectly manicured fingers gripping the handle delicately and unlocked the door. Before he could even get ahold of his surroundings, you had him by the collar and pulled him in. He could play all the sexy flirty games he wanted, but right now, you were in control and you were going to make him want you more than anything, even if it all was just for the camera.

His hands found your hips immediately as he attempted to steady himself but, gosh, all he wanted to do was take you here and now, preferably without Marie or the cameras, but he figured that if that’s what it took to fuck you, he was more than willing to compromise.

You pulled him in, your lips finally crashing against his. At first, he was hesitant but only for half a second, before he returned the kiss with even more fervor than you’d gone in with. Marie came up on his side and nibbled his ear, hands roaming up and down his chest between your very close bodies.

Johnny pulled back from this kiss and twisted just enough to snake an arm around Marie’s thin body and led her to face you. Then his hands came to firmly hold the back of each of your necks and forced your faces together, pressing you and the other woman to kiss. You both complied obediently, a strange mix of submissively and dominantly, like you were submitting to him but then fighting between the two of you.

Her lips moved graciously against yours, smooth and soft. It was so much more different than kissing a man. This felt delicate still despite the absolute filth that was ensuing. Her hand shot out to hold you by the jaw and pulled you in roughly, Johnny’s hand almost not needing to do anything.

He watched in amazement as the two of you obeyed his every physical command, the way you both looked so lost in each other. He knew you were straight just by interacting with you earlier but you could have had him fooled now.

This wasn’t the first time he’d been in threeway with two other girls but this was definitely the hottest one. Before, it was all just to see if he could pull it off and then just to have the novelty of having girls bend to his will but this was different. You were different. He couldn't really explain it but he was completely enamored by you. An air of innocence surrounded you from the moment he set eyes on your otherworldly beauty but the saw in your eyes a fire that burned with the ability to be more than that. He was determined to see just how hot that fire burned.

He pulled you and Marie apart before bringing her to kiss him. While he did, his free hand absentmindedly groped your chest, your breasts spilling from the top of your push up bra. A twinge of jealousy went through you as you watched them kiss, although you knew how irrational it was. They were actors. You were too. There was nothing personal about this. But, for some unexplainable, unprofessional reason, there was for you.

You slinked behind the older man like a cat and ran your fingertips ever so gently across his closed shoulders and down his biceps. They trailed down his sides as his body moved from the intense makeout session with Marie before coming around to tease over his growing bulge. In his black well fitting pants.

His body tensed ever so slightly, barely noticeable except to you two, when your hand made contact with his erection. You smirked to yourself, a dark, sexy smile, the kind of smile you’d expect to see in a twisted Tim Burton film. You were finally the mysterious gothic beauty you’d always imagined yourself as in all of his stories.

With swift fingerwork and a quick, almost too skilled, flick of your wrist, you had Johnny’s belt whipped off him and held firmly in your hands. He pulled Marie off of him and shoved her roughly onto the bed, undoing the buttons of his shirt as you walked in circles around him, trailing your gaze up and down his perfect body and dragging the leather of his belt on his torso and thighs as you did so.

The way you looked at him, like a lioness about to devour her prey, made Johnny feel like he was on fire. You seemed so in control and confident and you had a way of touching him, as if you knew exactly what made him tick. It was intoxicating.

His shirt was unbuttoned in a matter of seconds and without warning, he had you pressed back against the mattress as well. He crawled over your body, rolling his hips just right against your clothed core. A small, quiet whisper of a moan escaped your lips at the sudden, well placed contact.

Your hands tangled into his hair as you pulled him down to you, forcing his head into your neck. He kissed and sucked and nipped and licked just right, like he had a map to your body. You were embarrassingly wet from just kissing and you secretly prayed that nobody noticed but you were too lost in the moment to do anything about it.

Your leg wrapped around his waist and pulled him into you again. “Fuck…” His voice was a raspy, low whisper, said just loud enough for you three to hear.

Johnny kissed down your neck and across your breasts, moving over to Marie’s chest, which he dove into with full force. She squirmed and moaned beside you as he assaulted her perfect breasts. You rolled over as far as you could and caught her lips in yours, swallowing her moans.

That was, until Johnny’s hand trailed down to rub your core. You gasped into Marie’s full lips and rolled your hips into his hand, begging for more. Suddenly, he sat back onto his heels and grabbed your hips roughly, flipping you over onto all fours like he’d done it a million times before. “Ah!” You squealed slightly at the sudden action.

He climbed off the bed and knelt just behind you, palms rubbing over your ass and admiring every inch of you. Marie adjusted to sit just in front of you, legs spread to reveal her bare vagina before you. You weren’t sure when she’d lost her underwear but low and behold here you were face to face with all she had to bear. You’d never eaten a girl out before but you’d seen enough porn and fooled around with yourself enough to know what might work as a good start.

Cautiously, you started a few kitten licks to her clit, noticing every flinch or shudder that left her lips. Just as you began to get the hang of it, there was a loud rip as you felt the fabric of your panties be literally torn from your body. You gasped loudly, looking back behind you to see Johnny with his tongue between his teeth, admiring your body.

Johnny ran his surprisingly soft hands up and down your ass before dragging his fingertips through your already dripping folds. You moaned against Marie’s clit, her hands pulling on your hair, as his fingers circled your clit. You pressed your hips back against him, begging for more, and he was more than happy to oblige.

Before you knew it, the three of you were a tangle of limbs. At all times, you were being touched by someone, whether it was groping your chest, your ass, or your pussy, but it was always a game trying to figure out who it was. The heat was becoming unbearable and you were grateful for the lack of clothing. Your body was slicked in sweat, both yours and Johnny’s mostly.

He’d taken a clear preference to you and you almost felt bad for Marie but you didn’t feel too bad, seeing as how your lifelong fantasies were coming true. When someone was touching you, it was almost always Johnny, although he didn’t let his bias completely ruin the shot. He was a professional after all.

Soon, after at least ten minutes of blind fingering and hand jobs, you found yourself straddling Johnny as he lied naked on the bed. This was it, the moment you actually had sex with Johnny Depp. He held his large erection in one hand, guiding it to your entrance and then moved his hands to grip your hips tightly, lowering you down onto this length.

“Oh my… fuck-” You hissed out, throwing your head back as you adjusted to him. You’d never felt so full before, so complete. Without even moving, he made you feel absolutely incredible.

He chuckled sexily below you, loving your reaction. This whole scene had been a game with you, fighting for who was seducing who, who was in charge, but here he was finally proving it was him.

You steadied yourself on his chest, soft hands splayed out against his surprisingly taught, tattooed skin. To look at him like this, you never would have guessed how much older he was than you. He could pass for a very handsome man in his thirties easily.

You swiveled your hips experimentally and clenched your walls around his cock. Johnny sucked in a sharp breath as his fingertips dug harshly into your skin, sure to leave little bruises in their place. You looked down and locked eye contact with him through your long eyelashes, your hair disheveled and hanging in your face sexily, as you squeezed your muscles around him yet again and moved your hips.

“Fucking hell.” He groaned out beautifully, short nails digging crescents into your skin. His grip moved to cup your ass cheeks from below, grabbing them firmly and moving you up and down until you found a pace that worked for both of you.

Marie lied on the bed beside Johnny, one leg strewn across his chest and the other behind your bouncing body, as she toyed with her clit with one hand and fingered herself with the other.

You reached down to play with her breasts, pinching and rolling her nipples between your soft fingertips but the action was half hearted at best. All you could focus on was how Johnny felt inside you, hitting all the right spots. How you had him at your will just as much as you were at his. His hair was strewn around his face on the pillows like a damn god, his eyeliner smeared every so slightly from the sweat. His eyes screwed shut every now and then but otherwise, he looked at you like no other man had ever looked at you before.

He reached between your bodies and found your clit, rubbing it in small, tight circles. Your walls began to clench uncontrollably as you felt your orgasm nearing. Your back arched as you leaned back, moving your hands to rest on his thighs as you rose and fell on his length. Marie leaned down, attaching her lips to your perked nipples and biting one gently, licking over the skin to soothe it before doing it again.

Johnny reached down to finger her roughly as she ravaged your breasts. You continued to bounce, the new angle hitting that perfect spot inside you. “I’m gonna-” Marie whined out, her voice high and seductive.

You nodded quickly, eyes screwed shut, “Me too!” You exclaimed, trying with all your might to stave off your orgasm for as long as possible but the pleasure was just building up too much.

“Cum for me.” Johnny demanded from both of you and that was all it took for you to crash over the edge. Hot flashes stroke across your body in electric waves as your body failed to keep moving. He continued to lift your body for you, helping you ride out your high but his fingers dug tightly into your skin when your walls spasmed uncontrollably around him.

“Fuck!” Marie whined out, her legs shaking against Johnny’s body as she came.

You reluctantly rolled off Johnny’s body when you felt him lift you off and rested off to the side, breathing heavily while you recovered. He got up onto his knees next to you and stroked himself quickly, aggressively, using your slick to glide his hand across his erection, before painting Marie’s body in white ribbons.

“And cut!” The director’s voice yelled out, harshly returning you from your daydream. Your eyes suddenly snapped as wide as a deer caught in headlights as the studio lights flicked on around you and the crew was visible again. The reality of everything came crashing down on you. Shit, that wasn’t some secret fantasy in your head. That was a pornographic threesome with Johnny Depp and some woman named Marie!

You glanced over to the more experienced actress and breathed out a sigh of relief to see her looking the same way you did, completely shocked and a little disappointed at what you’d agreed to, but too pleased and amazed at what you’d just done to care too much before.

Johnny, on the other hand, looked like he was already recovering with a cool exterior. He’d already begun climbing off the bed to get his clothes back on, leaving you and Marie alone on the bed to register what had happened.

“Fuck me, that was hot.” Marilyn stepped onto the set, completely comfortable and practically ignoring the fact that he’d just watched his best friend fuck two women. You blushed a bright red. Great, you forgot that Marilyn Manson now would have the image of you fucking in his memories for forever. Not exactly the impression you typically went for in Hollywood… Or was it?

The director watched over the footage, “They looked like they were enjoying themselves a little too much.” He snorted, pointing out something on the screen to Marilyn and you just prayed that it wasn’t a funny face you made in the heat of the moment.

Marilyn waved him off, “No such thing as too much fun with sex, Paul.”

Even though the crew were all doing their various jobs, you were convinced that every eye was on you. WIth a beet red face, you slinked out of the bed, hands covering your breasts and keeping your thighs as close together as you could, trying to shield your nudity from the room. It wasn’t that you were ashamed of your body, it was just the feeling of being so exposed to a room full of strangers that made the blood rush to your face.

You rushed around, trying to pick up whatever small scrap of clothing you could identify as yours. On the ground, beside the bed, was a crumpled heap of thin stringy black fabric. Your underwear! “Thank God!” You murmured to yourself, bending down to pick it up, only to have it fall in two, rendered unwearable.

Your face dropped when you saw it and sighed, starting to become more comfortable in your naked skin but more so because you had no other choice at the moment. Could you even request clothing from the crew? Where did your actual clothes end up? Why did you even think that was a ridiculous request to want your clothes back?

Just as you dropped the shredded underwear, ready to find a crew member and get your clothes back, you heard Johnny chuckle, low and sexy behind you, “You’re a great method actor,” He complimented with a wink and slight smirk, knowing damn well what he meant, the nonchalance of his entire being making you dumbfounded, “Perhaps, we could do this again under less professional circumstances.”

And with the invitation, said in the most casual way - as if inviting you for coffee, he pushed the last button through the loop of his pristine white button up, and walked to find his best friend, leaving you standing on set, naked, clutching the underwear he’d literally ripped from your body just minutes earlier, eyes on his majestic figure and trying to comprehend what the fuck just happened.

#johnny depp #johnny depp imagines #johnny depp imagine #johnny depp fanfic #johnny depp x reader #johnny depp smut #sweeney todd imagine #jack sparrow imagine #edward scissorhands imagine

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cynthiaandsamus · 2 years

Note

[Can you give me the latest on Toonami? How is that block doing?]

(They've been a little rough lately, they finished Assassination Classroom and a bunch of other shows lately so right now the block is Reruns of the first season of Primal, the new Lupin the Third part, and double helpings of One Piece and Naruto Shippuden before we get into Shenmue and Attack on Titan reruns, so we really only have one 'new' anime on the block and premiere episodes of old shows most people have already seen while the rest is reruns.

Now they have announced they're going to be showing rerun episodes of the Season 2 premiere for Primal when that comes out next week and Yashahime Season 2 is coming shortly after that so we do have some things in the pipeline but it seems they've been having trouble getting ahold of existing new shows because most of these things are either seasons of shows they've already shown or things Adult Swim already has the rights to that they're able to jump on with, they had a similar problem when Covid hit and they weren't sure what to do with the block for a while and bounced back pretty strong so it's not unprecedented and kinda happens sometimes.

The good news though is they have numerous new shows they're creating or co-creating that they're putting out over the next year or so, they seem to really want to be in on the production end of things which may help them get a cut if anything does well and offset the cost which may be why they haven't been grabbing new series up as frequently. So far they've had a hand in FLCL Progressive/Alternative, Fena Pirate Princess, Blade Runner Black Lotus, and the Shenmue anime. Personally all of these have been kind of lacking in one way or another, FLCL Progressive was a confusing fanservice laden show that was kind of fine if you don't think too hard, FLCL Alternative was kind of genuinely good but not as amazing as the original, Fena was REALLY good except the last two episodes kind of botched the ending, Black Lotus was okay but hit during a time when they were short on shows so they kept dropping marathons for it and playing the first few episodes over and over and it got really old and the story was kind of unremarkable at the end of the day. Shenmue I can't tell if it's a boring terrible anime or a genius anime that accurately adapts a boring and terrible game series.

So yeah, the Toonami-created anime have kinda had a rough time with it but that seems to be where they're focusing a decent amount of attention at the moment. ATM they have two Horror anime, the Manga-style adaptation of Uzumaki and a new thing called Housing Complex C which both look pretty interesting despite Uzumaki going through like two years of delays but I think they're really trying to nail the style which I'd rather them work hard on it and have it be good than rush it and be bad but at the same time idk how the animated manga look is going to translate since we have a few series like the Netflix Way of the Househusband anime that don't exactly get great reviews for the same style. They also have two MORE FLCL series coming in the form of FLCL Shoegaze and Grunge and who fucking knows what that'll be like since FLCL is a series of wildly varying quality now.

But yeah, TLDR they've gone through periods of experimentation and are currently a bit light on stuff to watch but it's happened before and they come back so it's nothing to worry about too much and they do seem to have more stuff planned they just have a habit of not telling the public until right before it drops for some reason. They recently had an anniversary special a few months ago that saw TOM and SARA board a futuristic version of the original Absolution ship which was pretty cool so it's still doing well just hitting a few bumps here and there.

#Toonami #rant #long post

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everything-person · 4 years

Text

CS January Joy Day 7: The Rescue

A/N: So this fic idea spawned from a Wander Over Yonder short called The Hero. Its really funny highly suggest you watch it. This has been an idea of mine for a while and has been in the draft graveyard for maybe 3 years. Point is its been a long time idea and I’m super excited about finally being able to post it especially for an amazing event such as @csjanuaryjoy. Special thanks to @profdanglaisstuff who hoped on as my beta last minute.

Summary: Princess Emma has gone missing and with the kings promise of a special reward for the one to bring her home safely her friends plan to be the ones to do just that.

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Once upon a time the princess turned bandit met the shepherd turned prince. They fell in love and together they defeated the Evil Queen. They became the rulers of a grand land best known as The Enchanted Forest. Under the rule of Queen Snow White and King James the Enchanted Forest came a time of peace and prosperity.

One fortunate day Queen Snow White and King James announced the birth of a beautiful baby girl, a new princess for the kingdom, and she was given the name Emma. The princess was the product of True Love and would wield the most powerful light magic in all the realms. She would be known as the Savior. The kingdom rejoiced, days of celebration were held in honor of the princess. Nobility and Royalty from all over came to pay their respects and welcome the new princess.

Though the princess’s birth was a happy and welcome one, a great danger lay hidden. For with great light there must be great darkness. A prophecy told of a day when the Savior would be stolen away by darkness. Only to be rescued by one true hero, with the help of his sidekick-

“Whoa,” Pinocchio interrupted, “which one of us is the sidekick?”

Baelfire froze, looking at his friend. Even in the dim light of the tavern he could make out Pinocchio’s confused and slightly agitated glare.“Well I don't mean to be rude, my friend, but you're the sidekick.”

“Oh,” Pinocchio leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. “And how do we know you're not the sidekick?”

“It says that the hero is Emma's True Love.” Baelfire stated, gesturing to the book open in front of him.

“That proves nothing.”

Baelfire let out a frustrated sigh, slamming the book closed. “Okay well I guess whoever saves her is the hero and her true love.”

Pinocchio’s eyebrows furrowed, “Allow me understand you. Are you suggesting when we go retrieve Her Royal Highness, Rightful Heir to Misthaven’s Throne, The Savior, most powerful light magic wielder in this and any known realm, that whoever gets to her first will be the one she marries? Am I understanding you correctly?”

Baelfire shrugged his shoulders. “Do you have a better idea?”

Pinocchio stared at the man across from him. The buzz of the tavern surrounded them.

The two men had grown up with Princess Emma. For a time she wasn’t Her Royal Highness Princess Emma, she was just Emma, their friend. They were all playmates but as they grew Baelfire and Pinocchio saw her as Princess Emma and perhaps a bit more. They both wished to court her but before they had a chance to make a request she was stolen away from her 21st birthday ball. She's been missing for months and in their Majesties’ desperation they decreed that ‘the one who saves Princess Emma and brings her home will be the one to take her hand in marriage.’ Many have already tried but no one has even caught a glimpse of the princess. After hearing the news, Baelfire and Pinocchio decided they would save the princess and they would have a better chance of that together. Baelfire was in charge of finding out information on where the princess might be, hence the tavern they’ve been sitting in for nearly two hours. Pinocchio was in charge of transportation both getting to where the princess was and their escape route.

“I'm taking your silence as a no. So whoever gets to Emma first is the one who marries her, agreed?” Baelfire stuck his hand across the table.

Pinocchio stared at the offensive hand for a moment. Baelfire was right, he didn't have a better idea and Emma's father did say whoever saved Emma had her hand. So technically whichever one of them got to her first is the one to save her. Pinocchio grabbed his friend's hand and gave it a firm shake, “Agreed.”

“Good, because I think our man just showed up.” Baelfire nodded towards the man entering the tavern as he stuffed the book holding the prophecy in his satchel.

The tricorn hat on his head, long hair draped over the shoulders of his long coat hiding the sword and pistol at his hip all gave him away.

Pirate.

Pinocchio made to stand but a kick to the leg made him fall back in his chair. “Ow,” he exaggerated, glaring at his friend.

“What are you doing?” Baelfire questioned him.

“I'm going -”

Baelfire interrupted, “That's not how you deal with pirates. You make them” he holds up a purse of coins, “come to you.” He finalized his statement by slamming down the coins on the table.

Though Pinocchio doubted him at first once the pirate saw the gold he knew they had him. The man sauntered over to them. “That’s quite a bit of coin you have there mate.” He stood over their table with his thumb in his belt. He wore a smirk that was anything but friendly.

“More than a bit and I was hoping to win some more.” Baelfire leaned back in his seat meeting the man's gaze.

The man's smirk turned into a smile, “Well you're in luck, we were just about to set up a game. Perhaps you'd like to join us.”

=====================================

His father beckoned him over. “Pinocchio come meet the new princess.”

The little boy cautiously walked to where his father was standing next to the King and Queen. They smiled kindly at the boy as he approached. Once he was at the side of the crib he stood on the tips of his toes in order to see.

There laying in the crib was a small baby. She was wrapped in a white knitted blanket lined with a purple ribbon and in the corner read a name. “Pinocchio this is Emma.” the queen introduced him with a quiet voice.

“Hello Emma.” He couldn’t take his eyes off her. She looked back at him with big soft eyes, her mouth forming a little ‘o’ shape. He couldn’t help but reach into the crib and pet her head lightly . “She is so soft and so small.”

The adults chuckled at his observation. “Yes she is.”

“Pinocchio,” His father's voice caught his attention. He turned to see his father had knelt down. “Princess Emma is going to need a friend. Someone to help her and teach her things. Someone she can rely on. Can you do that? Can you be Princess Emma's friend?”

Pinocchio smiled and nodded. “Yes father. I will try to be the best friend I can to Princess Emma.”

“Good boy.” His father said and gave him a pat on his head.

A small whine came from the crib. Emma was rubbing her face letting out more noise. Pinocchio looked over the side. “Oh no Emma don’t cry. Look.” He pulled on his ears, sticking his tongue out and made silly noises until the princess calmed down. “See it’s okay.”

“Thank you Pinocchio. You are sure to be a very good friend for the princess.” the king assured him.

====================================

Baelfire had the pirates in the palm of his hand. With each hand he would buy another round for the table. He had now gotten the table thoroughly drunk, with all the men laughing jovially and ready to spill their guts at the right question. This is why he's sure he is the hero the prophecy spoke of, only the hero would be clever enough to persuade pirates into giving him the information he required.

“So Captain I hear you’re quite the fearsome pirate,” Baelfire started.

“Aye the most fearsome on the seas. No one dares cross Blackbeard's sword.”

“Having that kind of reputation I’m sure you pass through many ports and hear many different tales.”

“Aye I keep my ear to the ground for the best treasure to pillage and plunder. Are you in the market for some jewels or magical trinket?”

“None actually. I was hoping to hear what the best gossip pirates have to offer. Who’s picked up what?”

“Sorry to disappoint mate but I can’t think of anything worth telling.”

A drunken crew member piped up at this, “Capt’n what about that blonde woman? She was certainly interesting to look at.”

Baelfire's eyes darted from the crew member to his captain. Hoping he was right, he asked “What blonde woman?”

(A couple hours later)

“I know where Emma is!” Baelfire burst through the door of Pinocchio's workshop. Pinocchio jumped at the noise, dropping his tools. His glare at his intruder morphed into a curious gaze.

“Well where is she?”

Baelfire strode up to the workshop table pulling out a map. “The pirates said they came across a ship that held a beautiful blonde woman aboard.”

Pinocchio’s face pinched together as he stared at the man before him, “You do realize Emma isn't the only blonde woman in all the realms.”

“They said she wields a sword like a warrior, has the tongue of a sailor, fought like a man, backed down to no one all while looking as if she'd come down from heaven.” Baelfire cocked his head to the side, “You know as well as I do how fiery Emma can be.”

The former puppet nodded, “Alright where did he say she was?”

“Here.” Baelfire pointed to the map.

“So how are you getting us there?” Baelfire asked as Pinnochio looked to where they were going, plotting the fastest path they must take. Pinnochio smirked at the question, “Well what's a hero without a noble steed?”

===================================

Baelfire’s feet pounded against the earth beneath him as he weaved through the trees. His rage and frustrations fueling him forward. It'd been two days since Pan tricked him and sent him back to the realm he detested. Back to the father that chose power over him.

He found his papa stood by his word and got a castle for him. The castle was filled with all kinds of magical items but that wasn't all. There was a woman there as well. His papa found a new love. He was making a new family.

Baelfire rubbed at his eyes, fighting the tears that desperately wanted to fall. He didn't care about his papa or this new family he wanted to make. All he wanted was out of the realm and away from all things magical.

The further he ran the more his vision blurred. He began bumping into trees, swatting away branches that crossed his path. The more obstacles in his path the more determined he was to run faster. A root caught his foot, causing him to tumble forward, landing face first into the dirt below. He rubbed his head as he took in his new surroundings. He was in a small clearing filled with tall grass and flowers swaying in the breeze. He pushed up onto his hands and knees, feeling the pressure mounting inside him. He felt as if he was going to burst. He clutched at the dirt beneath him, squeezing his eyes shut. Just as he was about to let it all out he heard something.

Something that made him freeze.

He heard laughter.

He lifted up his head to see a girl running into the clearing, looking behind her. Since she was looking behind and not where she was going she tripped, tumbling forward and landing face first a few feet away from him. She pushed up into the same position he was in, shaking her head before lifting it and noticing him for the first time. They looked at each other for a moment, neither sure what to say or make of the other.

The girl cocked her head to the side before asking, “What are you doing?”

Baelfire scrunched up his face and asked, “What are you doing?”

“Playing,” she answered simply.

Baelfire scoffed, “Little girls shouldn’t be playing in the forest.”

Before he knew it Baelfire was being knocked back in the dirt. He looked up to see the girl now standing over him.

“I’m not a little girl. I can take care of myself.”

Baelfire looked up at this strange girl standing there with her arms crossed. “Who are you?”

She dropped her arms, looking him over before offering her hand to him, “I’m Emma.”

==============================

Baelfire thought fondly of when he met Emma in that clearing all those years ago. They continued to meet in that clearing a few more times, both curious about the other. She would allow him to air his grievances about his father, about magic, about all that's happened to him. He told her about his plan to leave this realm and he asked if she would want to join him. That was when he found out who she was and what she was. Her Royal Highness Emma, Crown Princess of Misthaven. When he found out who she was he was afraid that her parents wouldn’t let him see her anymore because of who his father was. So he made a deal with his father to make a deal with the King and Queen.

Baelfire promised to forgive his father if his father went to the King and Queen with a deal. Rumplestiltskin promised to never harm anyone in their kingdom if his son could continue to be friends with the princess. But she wasn’t just a princess. She was also the Savior, product of True Love, wielder of the most powerful light magic. Though she had light magic he asked that she didn’t use it in front of him. He saw what magic did to his father and the magic of Neverland. No matter what kind of magic it was Baelfire didn’t trust it.

“Hey! You awake back there?” Pinocchio called out to him from his seat at the front of the wagon.

Blackbeard said the ship that held the blonde woman was heading south. Baelfire suspected that they would need to make port within the next couple days before they headed back onto open water, so they are heading to a port town known to harbor pirates. With any luck they’ll find the ship Emma is on.

“No one could fall asleep with the way you're steering,” Baelfire grumbled. “This uncomfortable wagon wasn't what I had in mind when you said ‘noble steed.’”

“Well what do you expect the sidekick to ride in? Besides, a wagon any bigger would slow us down. You might want to try getting some rest while you can. By the map you gave me, we will be there by sundown.”

“The hero doesn’t need rest and is always prepared to leap into action.”

Pinocchio was right. They arrived in the small seaside village by the time the sun had fallen past the horizon. They were able to find a place to rest their horse and hide their wagon until they can determine whether or not Emma is here.

“So You head to the tavern and I’ll head to the docks-”

“No,” Baelfire cut off his friend.

“What? That was our plan. You go see if you can get any information from the tavern. While I go see if I can spot Emma on any of the ships in the dock.”

“There's no need for that plan anymore.”

Pinocchio pinched the bridge of his nose, getting annoyed with Baelfire’s know it all attitude. “And why the hell not?”

Baelfire rolled his eyes, grabbing his companion’s arm, turning him around. He stretched his arm out, pointing towards a porky little man wearing a red cap, “That is why.” Baelfire dropped his arm, “We’ll follow him.”

Pinocchio looked between the man they are now apparently following and his accomplice in this quest. “Okay I give up, who is he?”

“He is the first mate of the pirate that will lead us to Emma.”

“How could you possibly know that?” asked Pinocchio, exasperated.

“Look just trust me. If they don’t have Emma, they will know where she is.”

Pinocchio eyed Baelfire, not really believing him until he saw the look in his eye. It was a look of conviction. Baelfire fully believed that this man would lead them to Emma.

Pinocchio slowly began to nod. “Okay let's go.”

The pair followed this man as he, along with three others, went from shop to shop. When the group of men seemed to be finished they carried three barrels, four sacks, and two crates between the four of them. The men walked down towards the docks.

“Where's their ship? I don’t see it,” Pinocchio inquired, looking up and down the pier.

Baelfire watched as the men they were following walked down to a row boat. He then cast his eyes on the water. “The pier was too small for them to dock.”

Pinocchio followed Baelfire's gaze and saw the men in a row boat rowing towards a ship in the distance. Baelfire, frustrated, began to rub the back of his neck, trying to come up with a new plan. “Okay good news this allows us to sneak onto the ship easier. Charging up the gangplank wasn’t the best idea in hindsight. Bad news is you need to build a boat right now.”

“Just because I was wood once doesn’t make me a miracle worker.” Pinocchio looked up and down the docks until he saw something that could help them. “Look there.”

Pinocchio pointed to a small sailboat haphazardly tied to a post. They waited until the row boat was halfway to the vessel when they made their move. Baelfire threw the rope off its post, while Pinocchio pushed the boat in the water. They both jumped in before it got too far from the dock.

They laid low so as not to be seen. Pinocchio was able to steer which way their boat drifted with the rudder.

“Oi Smee look,” a crew man called out when they made it back to the ship, pointing back towards the docks. “Some poor bloke lost ‘is sail.”

The man laughed as they raised their boat, unaware of the floating vessel's intent. Because they were unable to use the available oars, over fear of being spotted, they simply drifted hoping the rudder would be enough to lead them close enough to climb aboard. After a while of just drifting Baelfire began lightly drumming his fingers against the wood beneath them.

“Stop that.”

“Can’t you make this thing go faster?” Baelfire growled at his companion.

“Unless you think I can control the waves and wind we are at the mercy of both,” Pinocchio huffed.

“We wouldn’t be if we were able to row-”

“That’s a great idea if part of your plan is to get caught. With an idea like that you must be the hero from the prophecy,” Pinocchio drawled, his voice dripping in sarcasm.

“Listen. The possibility of being caught is better than aimlessly drifting.”

“You just have to be patient.”

“Translation: I’m a sidekick and wait for stuff to happen.”

Pinocchio punched Baelfire's leg, tired of his arrogant attitude. Baelfire glared at him, thrusting his leg forward, kicking Pinocchio in the shoulder. Pinocchio grunted then grabbed hold of Baelfire's foot, twisting it in an unnatural way. Baelfire gasped, yanking his foot out of the other man's grip. Before Baelfire could retaliate they both were jostled as the boat bumped into something. They looked up to see that while they were busy arguing they had drifted right next to the ship. They both looked at each other before Pinocchio dropped anchor and they prepared to board the ship.

“Alright let's go.”

Pinocchio grabbed Baelfire's arm, pulling him back down in his seat. “Wait,” he aggressively whispered.

“What?”

“Do you hear that?”

Underneath the sound of the wind and the waves crashing against the hull of the ship, was the sound of cheers. They could just make out the sounds of cups clashing, laughter, and music floating down from the deck above.

Baelfire's brows furrowed, “Why are they celebrating?”

“It doesn’t matter. What matters is they are drinking. We both know how pirates like their drink.”

“So?” Baelfire said through gritted teeth, wanting him to get to the point.

“So we wait until they are too drunk to stand then board the ship, grab Emma, then row back to shore. By the time they gather themselves we will be headed for home.”

Baelfire turned his head back up, contemplating this new plan. “If we go now with half, if not all the crew on deck, we risk a better chance of being captured if not killed. Then who will save Emma?”

Baelfire closed his eyes and balled his fist, “Fine. We wait.”

So they waited and waited. Though their plan was smart they did not count on the waves rocking their small boat, effectively putting them to sleep. The sun cresting over the horizon woke Baelfire. Once he was fully awake it dawned on him what had happened. He bolted upright, jostling the boat as he did. He turned to his side to see Pinocchio sprawled out asleep, and he gave him a quick kick to rouse him.

“Wake up, we fell asleep.”

Pinocchio's head rolled as a groan escaped his mouth. Baelfire sighed before bending down, running his hand across the water's surface and flicking his wrist, causing the water to hit Pinocchio in the face. Pinocchio sputtered, now wide awake. He turned to shout at his attacker but his anger quickly vanished when he saw the sun. Both men jumped to action. Pinocchio attached his short sword to his hip as Baelfire threw his cutlass onto his back.

“They say you can truly measure a man by his sword,” Baelfire commented, eyeing his companion’s choice of weapon.

“The size of the sword doesn’t matter if you don’t know how to use it.”

As they prepared to board, Pinocchio turned to his friend, “Hey.”

Baelfire turned to see a sincere and serious look in his eye.

“No matter what happens up there, Emma's safety and happiness comes first.”

Baelfire nodded, reaching out his hand. Pinocchio accepted it, giving it a firm shake.

“May the best man win,” Baelfire said as they both turned to the next part of their journey. They prepared themselves for a moment before grabbing hold and ascending the ship.

==========================================

“Come on. Let’s go,” Emma encouraged her friends as she entered the tavern.

“I still don’t think this is a good idea,” Pinocchio warned warily.

“Yeah Ems we can get better drinks and food back at the castle.”

Emma turned facing her supposed friends, fixing them with a look. “You both promised me a drink so I suggest you stop your squawking and accept that we are here.”

Baelfire huffed as Pinocchio gestured for Emma to lead the way. The three of them settled on a table in the corner near the exit at Pinocchio's insistence. A bar maid came over and distributed three mugs of grog. Baelfire paid the wench and the three friends cheered their glasses together. Baelfire begrudgingly took a sip of his drink, grimacing as he swallowed the foul beverage. Pinocchio put his drink back on the table, wanting to have a clear mind in case any problems arose. Emma finished her drink in record time.

“Okay you've had your drink, can we leave now?”

“Come on Pinocchio lighten up.” Emma nudged his shoulder with her own, “This is supposed to be fun.”

“And what is so fun about spending a night in a dirty tavern, drinking gross grog, and being surrounded by drunkards?”

Emma glared at Baelfire. “It’s freeing. No one knows who we are, no guards, no one telling you what to do, being able to see how people really live.”

“Yes because who wouldn’t want to be a part of the adultery, lying, and thievery part of everyday people's lives.”

“Look, if you're going to act like this all night you can just leave.”

There was an awkward pause as the two friends stared each other down. Without breaking eye contact, Baelfire rose out of his chair, turned and left the tavern without another word. Emma huffed, leaning her elbows on the table, looking into her glass. This wasn’t her first time sneaking out of the castle but it was the first time she asked her friends to join her. She was excited to spend the night with them without having to be the proper princess everyone expected her to be. But it seemed her friends didn’t understand that.

“Come on Emma. Let's go, I'll walk you back to the castle.”

“Pinocchio if you're so eager to leave why don't you just go too.”

“Emma-”

Emma slammed her hands on the table, fixing him with a look, “Look if you don’t want to have a drink then just go.”

A burst of laughter turned her attention to the back of the bar. Emma smiled, “If you guys don’t want to have fun then I’ll go find my own.”

Emma pushed off the table, walking toward the table that caught her attention just moments before. Coming up to the group she placed her hands on their table, leaning forward addressing the man that seemed to be the center of attention. “So what are you boys playing?”

=========================================

The sound of swords clashing filled the air. The night's rest was all the pirates needed to sober up enough to fight the invaders. Pinocchio and Baelfire weren’t making it easy on them.

“What the bloody hell is going on up here?!”

The outburst distracted Pinocchio and Baelfire just enough for the crew to disarm them of their weapons. They grabbed the men, forcing their arms behind their backs and them onto their knees.

A man dressed in only leather pants descended the stairs onto the main deck. He wore chains around his neck, at the end of one arm was a brace holding a hook in place of a hand, and at the end of the other he clutched a sword in his grip, prepared for battle.

“Well?” The man paused, looking around waiting for someone to speak up, “Your Captain asked you a question, I expect an answer.”

“Cap’n these two snuck on board at day break.”

The captain looked over these two men, “Let me guess, more heroes come to take on the great Captain Hook.”

“There is nothing great about you. You filthy pirate,” Baelfire spat.

“You know I’ve grown rather tired of boys still wet behind their ears thinking they can come aboard my ship,” The captain spoke louder. “Why don’t we make an example out of these two? To remind everyone why they don’t cross Captain Hook and the crew of the Jolly Roger.”

The crew cheered as Baelfire and Pinocchio began to struggle out of their ropes, but two crew men firmly held them down.

“Now,” Hook raised his sword towards the men on their knees. “What shall we do with you?”

The crew erupted with suggestions but just as soon as the shouting started it stopped.

“What is with all the yelling this morning?��

Everyone's attention turned to the stairs, where stood the woman they were looking for. She made her way down the stairs dressed only in a black shirt that came down mid thigh on her, her blonde tresses falling in gentle waves over her shoulders. Her face scrunched up, as if she were in pain, her hand rubbing circles onto her head.

“Emma.” Hook dropped his sword, running over to meet her at the bottom of the stairs. He made it just in time as she tripped on the last step, falling into his arms. Hook opened his mouth to speak again but Emma held her hand to stop him.

“Caspian,” Emma pointed to the crewman, “what was that devil juice you gave me last night?”

“Tequila ma’am.”

Emma waved her hand, “Never. Never again is that allowed aboard this ship.”

“Love, what are you doing up?”

Emma snaked her hand that was resting on his bicep around his neck while the other began playing with the chain hanging from his neck. “Well, I got cold and had the unpleasant experience of waking up alone.” She paused, looking up at the captain through her lashes, “Then I got a splitting headache from all the shouting so I decided to find out what pulled my captain from my bed.”

“It wasn’t by choice, love. But it seems we have some unexpected visitors.” Hook nodded his head toward the middle of the deck.

Emma finally turned her head to see her two childhood friends being held on their knees, bound and gagged. “What the hell,” she whispered to herself.

Disentangling herself from Hook she moved to stand in front of the two men. She waved her hand, removing their gags. “What are you guys doing here?” Emma crossed her arms waiting for an answer.

“We came to rescue you and bring you home.”

Emma brows furrowed in confusion, “What?”

“You were kidnapped-” Pinocchio was cut off by the crew bursting with laughter.

“I wasn’t kidnapped, I left willingly.”

“But the prophecy-”

“Prophecy?”

A crew member came forward holding a book, “They had this with them ma’am.”

Emma took the book, offering a smile as thanks. She looked down and realized what she was holding in her hands, “You mean the storybook you made for me when I was ten?”

“But your father offered your hand to anyone who could bring you home safely,” Baelfire informed her.

“EXCUSE ME!? He did what?!”

“I thought you said you left your parents a note, lass,” Hook piped up from the railing he was leaning against.

“I did, they either didn’t read it or didn't believe it. Fuck! We’ve been gone for months now. They must be worried sick.” Emma began pacing. While she never wanted to cause her parents and distress she just wanted some space. In the midst of her pacing a thought occurred to her and she stopped.

“Wait,” she turned back to the men on their knees, “There are two of you. So if this was a “rescue mission” and the prize was my hand how was that going to work, huh?”

The men stayed silent.

“What? Was it whoever got to me first cause I know for damn sure neither of you are keen on sharing.”

Baelfire and Pinocchio hung their heads in shame.

“Really? I can’t believe you two.”

Hook approached her from behind, wrapping his arms around her waist, pulling her back to his chest, resting his chin on her shoulder, “What do you wish to do, love?”

Emma relaxed in his embrace, her gaze still fixed on the men before her. “Take them to the brig for now.”

As the crew stood them up they struggled against their restraints, pleading with Emma to listen to them. Their pleas fell on deaf ears as Emma and Hook retreated to the captain's quarters. Hook closed the door behind them, looking wearily at Emma, who had her back to him, her hands placed on his desk with her head hanging down.

“Emma? Love? Are you alright?”

Emma sighed, turning around, “I’m just in shock I guess. What were they thinking? What was my father thinking?”

“I would assume your father was desperate to have his daughter back safe at home. And as for your friends, they saw this as an opportunity for you to view them more than just your friends.”

Emma huffed, rolling her eyes.

“Did you ever have feelings for them as they do you?”

Emma turned to see him inspecting his hook. At the sight of his uncertainty her shoulders dropped and her face softened. She walked over to where he leaned against his bookcase, moving to stand before him. She gently cupped his face, making him look at her. “Never. I would be lying if I said I never thought about being with one of them but I never felt for them the way I do you.”

Killian smiled, turning his head to give her palm a tender kiss.

“I do care for them. Pinocchio has been there for me ever since I could remember, and he is great.”

“But..?”

“But he has it in his mind that he has to take care of me.”

“Ah and we both know you are a lass that can take care of herself.”

Emma hummed in agreement before continuing, “And Baelfire hates magic because of his father. So he would always hate a part of me. And I know he still plans to find a way out of this realm, never to return. I would love to explore other realms, hell it’s why I ran off with you, but the Enchanted Forest is my home.”

Emma looked up to see Hook's eyes had gone wide and his jaw set. “Killian, what’s wrong?”

“That man was Baelfire? The Dark One’s son?”

“Yeah why?”

A look of pain crossed his face as he moved away from Emma.

“Killian what is it?”

“You remember the woman I told you about? The reason for my revenge against the Dark One?”

“Yes, Milah wh-” then it dawned on her, “Milah was Baelfire's mother.”

“Aye,” he tried to force a laugh, “The dark humor of the gods I suppose. I not only took his mother from him but the woman he’s in love with.”

“Hey stop that.” Emma placed a hand on his shoulder, “You didn’t take anyone. We both left on our own.”

Killian looked at Emma, still feeling the weight of guilt on his shoulders.

“Do you regret meeting me?”

“Never. Meeting you was the best thing that could’ve happened to me.”

Killian leaned down, capturing her lips in a soft reassuring kiss. When the kiss ended they pressed their foreheads together.

“I’m sorry for what happened with Baelfire, Milah and you. But I refuse to feel bad about falling in love with you,” Emma whispered.

Killian sighed contentedly, “So what do we do now?”

========================================

A week later

King James sat on his throne in the council room with his head in his hands. His heart was heavy with grief. A gentle hand laid on his shoulder, he looked up to see his wife wearing a sad smile.

“I just want her home.”

“So do I. We just have to have hope-”

His wife was cut off by the sound of the doors bursting open, a dwarf running into the room.

“Grumpy what is it? What's wrong?”

The dwarf in question was out of breath, leaning forward on his knees. “It’s...It's Emma,” he panted.

The king stood with a force that sent his chair to the floor. “What? What about Emma? Has she been found?”

“She *inhale* She..*cough cough*”

“She’s what?” Charming demanded.

“She’s home.”

They heard a small voice coming from the entryway. Snow and Charming’s eyes both snapped to the door behind the dwarf to see their daughter standing there in a pair of black boots, brown trousers, and a white long sleeved shirt underneath a blue vest.

“Emma!” The couple gasped before they made their way around the table, past the still out of breath dwarf, engulfing their daughter in an embrace.

After a couple minutes they pulled back slightly, looking over their daughter.

“Emma we were so worried about you,” Snow said.

“Are you alright? How did you get back?” Charming inquired. That's when he noticed there were three men standing in the room. All of them stood straight shoulder to shoulder, with their hands behind their backs. He recognized two of them as being Baelfire and Pinocchio, the third man he’s never seen before but by the sight of him dressed head to toe in leather he assumed this was the man that stole his daughter away.

“I see.” The King let go of his family, stepping towards the men. “So who was it? Which one of you brought my daughter home to me,” he asked, smiling brightly, overjoyed that his daughter was home.

He waited for Baelfire or Pinocchio to step forward. For one of them to take credit for the rescue. He was taken aback when the pirate stepped forward, revealing his arms weren’t in restraints.

“Actually, Your Majesty, it was I that captained the vessel that brought your daughter home.”

Charming’s brows furrowed, he approached Baelfire and Pinocchio, turning them to see their hands tied. Charming turned back to his daughter and saw her holding the pirate's hand.

“What's going on?” Charming asked.

“Emma?” Snow looked between her husband and their daughter.

“I wasn’t kidnapped, I left willingly. I love you both and this kingdom, but it’s suffocating being the Savior and Princess of Misthaven. I wanted to explore, have adventures, like the ones you used to tell me about.”

“So you ran away with this pirate?”

“Killian Jones, at your service Your Majesty.” Killian bowed, hoping the show of respect would give him some brownie points.

“I met Killian about a year ago-”

“And where exactly was that?” Charming now stood with his arms crossed.

“At a tavern in the village.”

“You’ve been sneaking out of the castle!”

“Charming,” Snow chided her husband. “We’re listening, Emma, go on.”

“We met about a year ago and he would tell me about all the places he’s gone and things he’s seen. Then he offered to take me with him. And we fell in love.”

“A simplified version of events but the truth.”

“Why did you come back now? After all these months?”

Emma gestured to the men next to them, “These two tried a dashing rescue, and informed me you offered my hand as a prize to whoever could get to me first.”

The frustration and confusion that once captured his features melted away and shame replaced them, “Emma you must understand. We didn’t know where you went, what happened to you, if you were even alive. We grew desperate.”

Emma sighed, “I know. That is why we are here.”

Confusion once again crossed the King and Queen’s face.

“Ahem. I suppose it’s my turn to speak. Your Majesties, as the one to bring the princess home, I humbly ask for your blessing to marry your daughter.”

====================================

“Captain on deck!”

Killian boarded the ship that he’d called home for over 300 years.

“How’d it go Captain?” Mr. Smee asked as he approached him.

“It went as expected.”

“So, Mistress Emma?”

Killian smiled, “She just saying her goodbyes.”

Emma stood on the docks with her friends who were now unbound. The king and queen had given them their blessing. So while the King and Queen were busy planning their wedding, that will take place a year from now, Emma and Killian were free to travel and have adventures. Emma said goodbye to her parents this time around now all there was left was the unfinished business between the three friends.

Emma shuffled from foot to foot, unsure what to say, “Guys I-”

“Are you happy?”

Emma looked at Pinocchio. “What?”

“Does this, traveling on a pirate ship, being with Hook, make you happy?”

Emma smiled. “Yeah. It makes me really happy.”

“Then go.” Pinocchio nodded towards the ship. “Be happy.”

Emma embraced her long time friend, before letting go, turning to Baelfire.

“I know one day you’ll find whatever it is you're looking for.”

Baelfire stayed silent as he embraced her. Once he let her go she made her way up the gangplank onto the ship. She approached the man that won her heart.

“You ready for that adventure I promised you, love?”

Emma wrapped her arms around Killian’s neck as his looped around her waist, “I believe we were headed to Agrabah before we were rudely interrupted.”

Killian chuckled, “You heard her lads. Set course to Agrabah.”

#cs jj #cs january joy #cs fanfic #cs ff #captain swan #emma swan #killian jones #captain hook #baelfire #pinocchio #captain duckling

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formeandmyfics · 3 years

Text

Jugenea Fan Fic

WHEN THE LIGHTS WENT OUT

When the power goes out while filming a scene for Summer Stock, Judy and Gene use the extra time to get back into their old ways...

January 1950

MGM

“Oh, what the hell?!”

Charles Walters yelled as the entire soundstage went pitch black.

“Cut!”

“What happened,” Judy’s distinctive voice asked surprised as she sat in a chair, opposite of a kneeling Gene, in the dressing room set of their current production Summer Stock.

“Blown fuse, I think,” Gene replied standing up.

Visible sunlight light was scene from the cracks of the large steel doors of the soundstage, but that was it.

“Somebody get some damn flashlights, come on!”

“Charlie’s sounding more like Buzz B,” Joe Pasternak said as he walked near the couple, as Charles walked away.

“We have some lanterns and flash lights in the closet over there,” a lighting tech shouted.

“Where the fuck is the generator?!”

Again, Charles’ yell echoed from further away now. His cursing made Judy giggle. She’d known the man for years, and only counting on one hand, had she heard him say the F-word.

“Ooo, he is angry,” Joe replied.

“He was already having a bad day, this just twisted his last nut,” Gene said to his producer buddy.

“Excuse me,” Judy interrupted casually.

“Hey,” Gene said quickly grabbing her hand, “Where you going?”

“To my dressing room.”

“In the dark?”

“Yeeees, Gene,” she said sighing.

“Why?”

“Because I want to. We’re obviously not finishing the scene right now.”

“Well, do you want me to...”

She immediately cut him off, “I have an emergency lantern in there. I’m a big girl, I’ll be alright,” she simply said and walked off.

“I think that’s a tell-tale sign of a lady who wants to be left alone, huh,” Joe said teasingly.

“Yeah, but that’s not like her, not with me.”

Pasternak heard the serious tone in Gene’s voice and he placed a hand on his back, “You know how it’s been for her doing this. She’s just tired.”

“Hey, Joe, come give me a hand with this,” a man said and he immediately walked over.

The woman was practically living with him at his apartment, now publicly and officially separated from Vince, so he watched her closely, as in a type of protection knowing how vulnerable she was doing this film after her mental and physical progress in Boston.

She was getting a lot of rest, a full night’s sleep even, which made her late to work most of the time. Of course they all didn’t mind. And the times she didn’t show up, she was resting from anxiety. He knew what was what where she was concerned. And she was perfectly fine today. This was something else, and he had a feeling it had something to do with him.

“Well, damn,” Kay Thompson said in her usual brass voice as she came through Judy’s on-set dressing room door, “When I came to say ‘hi’, I didn’t know I’d be walking into a game of Marco Polo.”

Judy dimly smiled at her friend as she pounded a carton of cigarettes against her palm.

“Oh, good, they’re opening the stage door,” Kay said as she turned to shut the door, “Now I won’t have to worry about tripping over some damn wires on my way out.”

As Judy lit a cigarette, her small dressing room filled with the lanterns light, Kay sat down on the twin-sized day bed next to Judy’s make up vanity where she sat.

“When did the lights go out in Georgia?”

“Oh, not ten minutes ago.”

“It’s after 3. Have you not filmed anything yet?”

“Yes, finished the first part of our scene with Marge.”

“Then what are you wearing?”

“This is my costume,” Judy said with a giggle as she tugged on her blue robe.

“Oh,” Kay let out a chuckle, “Too bad that’s not all the time.”

“I know. It’s quite a bit more comfy this way.”

“And easy access.”

“For what,” Judy asked absent-minded as she offered Kay a cigarette which she shook her head at.

“For what,” Kay asked a bit shocked, “For a little in-between takes romp. It’s much easier to do than with all those layers and poofs and such from the other film’s costumes.”

Judy licked her lips as she pounded out her fresh cigarette which got Kay’s attention immediately, “Hey, if you’ve told me you were going to waste a perfectly good Marlboro, I would have taken it.”

“Then have one already,” Judy said offering her one which this time she took.

Kay lit it and crossed her legs, “You know, I’m surprised Gene isn’t in here right now, especially with the lights out and such. Might be fun,” she said wiggling her eyebrows.

Judy ignored her and checked the desk-clock on the corner of the table, “Gee, I hope they get things going, or at least dismiss us. I don’t want to sit here for the rest of the God-damn day.”

“You said it’s only been ten minutes, Judy,” the blonde stated calmly, exhaling the smoke. She knew the signs of when the star was getting irritated.

“Well, how long does it take to flip the breaker or turn on a generator?”

“What’s wrong?”

“What do you mean,” Judy said, looking at her almost offended and self-conscious at the same time.

Kay’s red lips turned upwards in a calming, but amusing smile, “What’s bothering you, and don’t say the freaking lights.”

When Judy gave her a sly glance before turning back to the mirror, Kay spoke up in true girl-friend fashion, “Fine, if you don’t want to tell me, I can take a hint. I’ll leave you be for now, but I’m sure this has something to do with Gene..”

She started to get up, but Judy quickly grabbed her arm sitting her back down with a plop.

“Jesus, why do you have to come in here and start talking about him like he’s still a secret lover. Everyone’s known about us since I came back from Boston.”

“Why is it bothering you so much?”

“Because he’s my boyfriend. We’re not how we used to be.”

“So?”

“Soo,” Judy emphasized, “He doesn’t come in here and start tackling me in between scenes like you so candidly suggested.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know, Kay,” Judy said in a dark tone, “Why don’t you go ask him?”

“Ooo,” Kay smiled, “Alright, so *that’s* what’s bothering you,” when she saw Judy give her a look that did not deny her statement, she leaned forward, “Alright, spill.”

Gene stood off the side of the breaker, holding his elbow as he bit impatiently on his thumb nail, softly swaying side-to-side, as the men failed in fixing the problem. After a second try, and another failed attempt, Gene held up his watch toward the light coming from the open sound stage door and checked his watch. He didn’t want to be there all day. He and Judy had dinner plans at the Derby with some friends.

“Hi there, legs,” Gene heard as Kay walked up behind him, a nickname she gave since seeing him do his Pirate ballet dance.

“Oh, hi there yourself,” he chuckled and gave her a peck on the lips, “What are you doing here, doll?”

“Came to play hide-and-go-seek in the dark, apparently.”

“Yeah, our power went out in the middle of a scene. Still no luck.”

“I see that.”

“Judy’s in her dressing room, if you’re looking for her.”

“One step ahead of you, babe.”

Gene looked at her curious, “How’s she doing?”

“That’s a funny question.”

“Why?”

“Because you were just filming scene together. Not to mention, you two nearly live together. I should be asking you the same question.”

Gene shrugged, “I only asked because she’s been a little preoccupied from me lately. You know what I mean? I can’t put my finger on it, but I think it’s just what she’s going through with working her ass through this picture.”

When he saw the almost naughty expression on Kay’s face, her lips pressed together, looking down amused, he furrowed his eyebrows.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Kay...what do you know?”

“Come here,” she chuckled and they walked away from earshot.

Gene crossed his arms and leaned his body forward a bit, all ears and she lowered her voice, “Let me ask you this. Are you still excited with Judy?”

“What do you mean,” off her knowing look he realized what she was referring to with ‘excited’ and he stepped back with an appalled expression, “Oh, Jesus, of course I am. Why the hell are you asking me that?”

She put her hands up, and was about to speak, when he stopped, “What did she say to you? And if she said otherwise, then she’s a damn liar or a damn good actress in the sac.”

“Gene, calm down,” she laughed.

“I’ve been with that girl since she was nineteen. I know her and her body, and let me tell you, she enjoys herself. So, whatever she said, she’s looking for damn attention.”

“Wow. Our manhood’s pride is a little sensitive right now.”

“I don’t even know why we’re discussing this. I’m done...”

He went to walk but she stepped in front of him and put her hand up to his chest, “Would you just shut up and listen? My God, the lights go out and you and Judy’s overacting hits it’s the roof. Save it for the cameras.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Judy didn’t complain to me about that. She just is a little disappointed.”

“Disappointed? In me,” he asked nearly in shock.

She shrugged, “Not in that way at all, darling. She just feels like ever since you two came out to everyone with your relationship, and especially her living with you half the time, that it’s not...” she tried to find the right word as to not set Gene off again, or hurt him, “...as exciting as it used to be before this.”

“But what do you mean by exciting? We’re officially an item now. We can go out together, we can be together at my place freely, we don’t have to sneak around...”

“And she loves that you’re both official now. She specifically told me that. She loves that you two can come home together multiple times in the week and you can go out together with the kids like a family. But I think she misses the secret stuff.”

Gene paused a moment, realizing, and spoke up curiously, “Did she say that?”

“Not in that way. She said she misses the spontaneity. She’s a little confused with herself because she’s wanted to be with you out in the open for so long, but now that she has it, she misses the excitement of sneaking around. I think she might be afraid that the relationship might turn dull, like it did with Vince. She wants to keep things alive, her words.”

“Oh,” Gene chuckled and covered his face with his hand, “That silly, silly girl,” he sighed and looked up shaking his head at another one of Judy’s ideocracies that never failed to amaze him, “God, I love her so much.”

“We both know it’s not true, that you’ll...”

“Fizzle out,” he interrupted with a chuckle.

She nodded, “But you know how she is with her insecurity.”

“Well,” he stated thinking before biting his lower lip, “Then I better do something about it.

Judy walked slowly around the soundstage, feeling antsy. She didn’t speak to anyone as she did so. Her mind was elsewhere. Others stood around talking as crew continued on trying the generator. With her hand grasping her opposite wrist behind her, she had glanced around for Gene as she mindlessly walked but didn’t see him.

When the generator made a loud sound from one side of the room and then a group of crew members suddenly erupted into laughter, sounding rowdy, at the other side, Judy felt a little sensitive to all the noise. She made her way to the back of the set, still minding her own business. Back there, it was darker, not pitch black, but more quiet. Leaning on the back of the wooden wall, she sighed, as if relishing in the sudden escape of it all.

Just then the entire studio made a loud sound as the power went back on, enveloping the set in very bright lights. Judy was behind the set, but the head lights were very bright above her, she had to squint.

She pushed herself off the wall and took a few steps to head back around when the power failed again. She could hear everyone’s groans, and some colorful language again from Charlie.

Before Judy could react, Gene rounded the corner, but he stopped short when they made eye contact. She smiled a bit, to acknowledge him, but her smile faded when she saw the expression on his face.

He was looking at her with intensity, almost...primal...and sexy. She was taken back by it and a little alarmed. She didn’t know what she had done, but he didn’t look happy.

Then he headed towards her, slowing his steps the closer he got. His chest was heaving. Judy didn’t feel like backing away, didn’t need to, she knew who she was dealing with, even if he was about to yell at her for something.

In one fast movement, he took her wrists, took a step forward, and pinned them above her head onto the wall as she was backed up into it.

Judy slightly gasped, no control over her reaction. As his face hovered over hers, she swallowed and looked down at his lips. Was he upset? She didn’t feel scared by any means. Was he going to kiss her? He just stood there not moving.

“Gene,” she whispered stunned.

“Shhh,” he whispered back. She could smell the menthol from his cigarette on her lips.

Judy’s eyes became bigger, asking him silently what he was doing, but he ignored it. Coming in close to her lips, Gene saw her eyes close, awaiting his kiss, but he ignored that, too.

He left a kiss on her chin then moved to her cheek, and with his free hand, he placed it on her jaw, moving her head back so he could kiss down her throat.

Judy couldn’t help the tiny whimper escape her lips as he left some delicious open-mouth kisses on her neck. Oh, he felt heavenly. He stopped at the ‘v’ of her robe and brought his face back up to hers. He felt a rush of adrenaline as she still had her eyes closed and her lips parted. Opening them, she was staring straight into his. He felt her move her arms, but then his hold got stronger.

“Don’t move,” he whispered against her lips, which were dangerously close.

He traced his finger down her cheek, down her neck and down the lining of her robe costume. Resting his forehead against hers, his fingertip traced the curve of her breast through the material. He knew she had a slip on underneath the robe, but the robe wasn’t very thick material, and neither were her camisoles.

After tracing her breast around her nipple, teasing her, he finally went over it. Then again. And again. Her nipple getting more firmer under his touch made his cock harden.

The more his finger went back and forth over her, made her arousal even stronger between her legs. When he did the same to the other one, she felt herself suddenly get wet and she unsteadily gasped in some air, a little sound with it. She was instantly aroused, and by such little touch, that it excited and surprised her. She could feel Gene’s hard on getting more profound himself, which also excited her.

Judy bit her bottom lip suggestively, trying to make eye contact with him. When Gene’s head lifted off her forehead, her eyes quickly darted to the corner where they both had walked around, making sure no one saw them. She knew what he wanted, and my goodness she wanted it, too.

His hand slid to her lower back and he pressed his nose against hers at the same time pushed his lower body into her as well. When she instinctively moved her wrists again, Gene let them go. His other hand reached up and their fingers connected on each side of her head. She leaned her face forward to finally kiss him, but he pulled back. She tried again, he pulled back again. Judy moved her hands to grab at him, but he pinned them back against the wall again, with a slight bang, his fingers still connected in hers.

Judy found his roughness sexy amusing, and she couldn’t help but let out a surprised giggle. It made him smile. He was having fun, too.

Oh, God, that mouth, he thought. Sure, he even got a passionate kiss from her that morning, but in arousal, her lips and mouth were like a new exploration each time...as were the sounds she made before and during sex.

Gene leaned forward to her mouth again and she closed her eyes, instantly opening her mouth. He hovered there a moment, his mouth parted slightly, ready to take her.

“WE GOT IT!”

Judy and Gene both jumped apart a bit startled when the soundstage lights went back on.

“Generator is up and running,” they heard a lighting tech yell.

“Let’s get this scene done before the damn generator goes out, too,” Charle’s voice was heard getting closer to the set.

Judy and Gene both looked at each other. They didn’t look amused, or disappointed. They shared an understanding look: they were aroused but had to get back to work. It hadn’t been the first time they’d been interrupted in this regard.

“Where the hell did Judy and Gene go? Can someone go find ‘em?!”

Judy glanced up at Gene, as she smoothed out her robe, but Gene turned his back to her and took a few steps away. She knew he needed a minute to ‘de-escalate’ , so she quickly darted out from the corner before people came searching.

“Oh, there you are, sweetheart,” Joe said standing next to Charles.

“Here I am,” she returned in a chipper voice.

“We’re gonna try to get this scene done before the damn generator fails again. Are you ok with that?”

“Of course.”

“Where’s Gene,” Joe asked.

“Uh, he’ll be here shortly. He’s finishing a cigarette.”

“He can finish the cigarette after. We’re way behind. GENE! WE’RE WAY BEHIND!”

Judy wrapped her arms around Charle’s arm, giving him her best Dorothy voice, “He’s been under a lot of strain too, let him finish his cigarette, hm?”

“Ya, alright,” Charlie said melting under her spell, “Go check yourself so we’re ready when he’s done.”

“Yes, Sir,” she teased saluting him.

As Judy got her hair and makeup retouched, Gene reappeared. The two didn’t even exchange looks until they entered the scene.

Neither knew how they got through it, but they did. And they did it in only two takes, with no mess ups on their lines. In character, the scene was sweet, genuine and full of love. Inside, they were both burning.

When Joe leans in to kiss Jane’s cheek, Judy took an intake of breath, holding her breath as she did so. She didn’t intend to. She could see the sparkle in Gene’s eyes as he leaned back, but as much a sparkle, there was also such adoration. And that turned her on even more.

“Good luck,” he said softly.

Judy took a second to respond, her heart bursting, “Good luck.”

“ANDDD CUT! PERFECT! PRINT!”

Everyone applauded.

“That’s it for today everyone. Great job and thank you for all your help,” Charles said before turning to his stars.

“Judy, baby, that was amazing,” he said giving her kiss on the cheek. “Gene, my man, great job,” he continued and shook his hand.

Judy smiled, looking anxious, as she glanced at Gene.

“Remember, no filming tomorrow, but you have a pre-record of ‘All For You’. That's at noon.”

“Is that all you need from me?”

“That’s it, baby.”

Without another word, Judy left their side. Gene knew where she was headed.

“See you Monday, Charlie,” Gene said with a slap on his back before following Judy.

Without knocking, Gene opened the door with Judy Garland monogrammed in cursive on it, before slamming it shut and locking it behind him.

The early evening sky had a hue of orange above MGM as Judy and Gene walked out of the large stage door. The air was crisp and cool and the lot was clearing of players and crew as dinnertime approached.

The two didn’t speak as they left the soundstage, they didn’t rush either. Their steps were lazily, as was Gene’s arm that hung over her shoulder. She even rest her head back on it, as they comfortably walked together.

Judy could feel her cheeks still flushed from their rendezvous', but she didn’t care. She felt absolutely satisfied, though her back thighs were a little sore where Gene’s hands had grabbed at her skin there, his fingertips digging into her flesh, keeping her in place, as he ground into her against her dressing room wall. She didn’t feel it at the time, all she felt was him fucking her to orgasm, and all those other feelings of being with him that went with it.

Gene smiled slightly when he felt Judy rest her head against his arm. He knew she was as spent as he was. It still amazed him that after all these years different encounters with her affected different reactions in him. They had made love two days ago yet his sexual feelings towards, and the sex, felt like he had gone weeks without it. He had to admit, he hadn’t realized how much he missed those spontaneous, and secret, encounters with her, ones that their relationship had been built on. He didn’t know how they managed to stay as quiet as they did as they were both equally turned on and had such a strong release.

Gene couldn’t help but chuckle recalling how his legs gave out and he fell back onto her makeup chair, with her straddling him. She didn’t stop either, grinding back and forth, whispered whimpers coming out of her mouth over and over until she came. Oh, God, she felt so fucking good. Holding her, he stood her up and placed her on the makeup vanity, almost topping the bulb mirror over, pumping into her until he came himself. There was a perfectly fine twin-sized daybed next to them, but instead they picked every other object to fuck on.

“What’s gotten you so giddy,” Judy teased hearing him chuckle.

“Guess,” he said looking at her mischievously.

Judy’s giggle vibrated against his lips as he leaned down to kiss her a few times. As they kept walking, Judy noticed a few people staring their way. Though they were still both legally married to other people, everyone knew they were an item by now. But, it still never failed to get them some wide-eyed stares, whispers or naughty smiles from mutual friends.

“You know something?”

“What?”

“I think that’s the first time we’ve kissed out in the open like this.”

“Is it? Here, let’s do it again,” he said and leaned down to kiss her again.

“You’re crazy,” she giggled.

“You’re crazy, too, which makes us a good match.”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Shoot.”

“I’m not complaining at all, but what brought that on back there?”

Gene opened his mouth but then just nudged his shoulders and made an ‘I don’t know’ sound.

“What do you mean...” she then made the same sound he did.

“I felt like it.”

Judy kneaded her eyebrows looking at him skeptically, “We were filming a scene then you just decide you want to seduce me like you did?”

Gene couldn’t help the guilty laugh and embarrassed he rubbed the side of his face trying to hide it. But she knew when he was lying.

“What,” she laughed.

“Did you like it?”

“Well, of course I did.”

“Well, then, that’s all that matters.”

All of a sudden they heard a honk before Kay drove by waving. They waved back but Judy quickly opened her mouth looking at Gene. He saw it, and urged her to keep walking.

“Kay told you.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Well, then, remind me to thank her later.”

“Honey,” he asked getting a little more serious now, “I gotta be honest with ya. You know, spending all the time together that we have since I got the apartment, it hadn’t even occurred to me to put some spontaneity in there. I mean, we’re definitely not routine, but I was just enjoying being able to be with you whenever I want now, without having to sneak around.”

“Gene, I...”

“No, listen, after what just happened, I didn’t realize how much I missed it. It does put the excitement in there, to keep up what we had for all those years. I know that sneaking around and being secret is what we’re built on, and it’s only natural to want to keep up some form of that. I will promise you though, nothing will ever get boring, not between us.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you about it. I was a little embarrassed because I never want to take for granted what we have now. It’s what I’ve wanted for so long.”

“Me, too.”

“And I felt guilty for missing encounters with you.”

“Never feel guilty for what you feel. But you have to talk to me about it so I know. And I mean this with everything. And vice versa. That way, any problem we do have, we can work out together.”

“Deal. And just so you know, it doesn’t always have to be that way. Even just sneaking into the shower once and a while is exciting enough.”

“You got a deal back,” he smiled, “Or in a car, that was always fun back in the day.”

“Not sure our backs could handle that now.”

“Well, I’m definitely going to make it and effort to keep having encounters like that, ‘cause, wooo boy...” he blew out a breath making his point how it made him feel and she cracked up.

Her cheeks turned even more red.

#jugenea #fan fiction

17 notes · View notes

ohmygarlands · 3 years

Text

No Goodbyes

(Warning: this story deals with heavy subject matter)

Gene rushed to the house on Evanview as fast as he could, barely stopping even for the red lights. As soon as he heard the desperation in Vincente’s voice, he knew it was serious. He slammed the car door behind him and dashed inside, tearing up the stairs to follow the sounds of Vincente’s sharp knocks against the bathroom door.

“Judy! Darling, please come out…” Vince begged, his hand on the doorknob.

“What the hell’s going on?” Gene asked, breathing heavy.

“She locked herself in, I can’t get her out!” He was becoming hysterical himself, “I don’t know what to do, Gene! I’ve never seen her like this.”

“Fuck!” Gene muttered, standing in front of the door, “how long has she been in there?”

“About a half an hour, I tried everything. I thought maybe she might listen to you…”

Vincente learned of their affair shortly after The Pirate. He saw them carelessly stealing kisses at the wrap party nearly a year ago. Oddly enough, it didn’t bother him anywhere near as much as he thought it would. He felt almost relieved. When Gene was in the picture, she was happy, stable, and much less erratic. It took a load off his shoulders and he was able to look the other way, sinking himself into his work. But when things started to go sideways and her moods became more turbulent than ever, he could look away no more.

Gene knocked twice first before trying the door handle, “Judy… it’s me,” he said as calmly as he could. He could hear her breathy sobs on the other side of the door, “Open the door…”

“I can’t,” she said in a strained voice.

“Why can’t you open the door, Judy?”

Vincente grabbed Gene’s shoulder, “Maybe we can jimmy the lock, I’ll go get a knife.”

Gene nodded before turning his attention back to Judy, “Judy, why can’t you open the door? Talk to me…”

“GO AWAY!!” She suddenly screamed.

“I’m not going anywhere, do you hear me?”

“Please, just leave,” she cried.

“Tell me what happened…”

“I can’t,” her voice was shaking.

When Vincente returned with a knife, Judy’s manager Carlton Alsop followed behind him. He too tried to get her to open the door but their attempts, including the knife, were futile .

“Vince, what the fuck happened to her?!” Gene asked, becoming irate.

“She came home from the lot, tired. I didn’t think anything of it. She said she was going to lay down for a while. All of the sudden, I heard her screaming and found her locked in the goddamn bathroom!”

Carlton bolted into her bedroom, in search of what he knew he’d find. When he returned, he carried an empty pill bottle. Gene’s heart dropped into his stomach.

“We need to get her out of there!” Carlton said, “keep talking to her Gene! Keep her alert. This was full yesterday, she needs a doctor,” he said frantically rushing for the phone in her room.

Gene could feel a lump forming in his throat as his eyes began to water, “Judy…”

“I just want to sleep…” her voice became soft and lazy.

“Then why don’t you unlock the door, and we’ll get you into bed. You can sleep as long as long as you like, please…” Gene begged.

Vincente turned to face the wall opposite the door, leaning his forearms against the wallpaper.

“They’ve done it, they’ve killed her! They finally killed my beautiful wife!” He cried.

Gene leapt up and grabbed Vince by the collar of his shirt, “shut the fuck up!!”

Just then, Carlton came back and broke them up. He pulled Vincente aside and tried to calm him down so Gene could focus his attention on Judy. Suddenly, the sound of a glass breaking followed by another loud sob came through the door. The three men looked at each other in horror.

“JUDY!!” Gene cried, sliding down to his knees with his hand on the door knob.

“Please just let me go…” She sobbed.

“Judy,” Gene’s voice became quiet, “don’t do this… I’m begging you.”

Judy’s cries became a little clearer, he could tell she was now up against the opposite side of the door. He leaned his forehead against it, “my life began when I met you, Judy, you gave me a purpose, you taught me how to live my dream. You never gave up on me, not once… and I’m not giving up on you. Not now, not ever…”

Judy’s sobs had settled to skipping breaths. He glanced over at Carlton and Vince, feeling their eyes piercing through him.

“Please, please unlock this door…”

A few moments later, he heard a click in the doorknob and Gene jumped up to open it, finding Judy leaning against the wall holding her legs as she cried. Gene could no longer fight his own tears as he gathered her in his arms.

“I’m so sorry,” she wept into his chest. Gene bunched her sweaty hair in his hands, sweeping it away from her forehead.

“Shhh,” he whispered, rocking her like a small child.

As her doctor tended to her in her bedroom with Vincente, Gene and Carlton made their way downstairs, giving them privacy. They went down to the kitchen and sat at the large island. His hands still shaking, he lit a cigarette, inhaling for what seemed like minutes.

“What do we do now?” He asked, the smoke falling from his mouth.

“She needs help, Gene.”

“Right, what do we do?” He repeated.

“You’re not understanding me. She needs more help than you or I, or Vince could ever give her.”

“How do you know? Maybe there’s something we can do.”

“She’s been getting worse by the day, Gene. Her moments of clarity and of joy are becoming fewer and farther between. Her mood swings are more violent than ever, one minute she’s laughing and—“

“The next, she’s in tears,” he finished his sentence.

“I visited her last week on Annie… I stopped by to see her, she was so happy to see me, she was all over me… I made a harmless joke about the feather in her hair and she completely lost it. It’s like she took on an entirely different personality, I didn’t even recognize her voice.”

“Then you know…”

“I didn’t know what to make of it. I remember what she went through when we made the Pirate.”

“This is different. If we don’t do something fast, she’s not going to make it much longer.”

Gene sighed, slamming his cigarette in the ashtray as his jaw clenched, trying to hold back another wave of tears.

“There’s a hospital in Boston I’ve been trying to get her into for several weeks. The second I realized the path she was going down, I reached out to their top doctor.”

“Boston?”

“They specialize in this sort of thing. It might be exactly what she needs.”

“It’s on the other side of the country!” Gene began to panic.“Why can’t we help her here? Her family is here, her friends… I’m…” he stopped himself, glancing down at the table in front of him.

“Los Angeles is like a prison cell to Judy, this is the last place she needs to be.”

“Have you told Vince about this idea of yours?”

“Yes…”

“And?”

“He’s not happy about it but he’s willing to let her go.”

Gene leaned back in his chair, he knew it would be best for her but after tonight’s episode, he had a very hard time pushing his selfishness away. He wanted more than ever to be with her, to hold her and never let her go.

To their sheer relief, the doctor informed all three of them that Judy had caused no serious harm and that they managed to get the pills out of her system before anything damaging could happen. Carlton left that evening shortly after the doctor did, and after making sure Vincente and Gene were both ok. The gentlemen had discussed further the notion of sending Judy to Boston. Carlton agreed to work with her doctor here to ensure they could set up an admittance appointment as soon as possible.

Sitting at her bedside, Gene watched as she slept. He gently swept his fingers up and down her bare arm, he knew how much that relaxed her. Her skin immediately responded to his scarce caresses. She rolled over and slowly opened her wet eyes.

“You’re supposed to be sleeping,” Gene whispered with a slight smile.

“I’m so sorry, darling,” she said, her voice so weak it broke him all over again. He shook his head and moved his fingers up to her face, running his thumb along her eyebrow and down her cheek.

“What’s going to happen to me?”

“Well, you’re going to go see some more doctors, and we’re going to sort everything out, I promise you. You’re going to be just fine.”

“But what if I’m not?”

“I’m sorry, Garland, that option just isn’t on the table.”

“I’m so scared,” she began to cry again.

“I know you are, baby, I am too…”

“I don’t want to lose you.”

“I told you I’m not going anywhere… We’re going to get through this. I will do whatever I need to to make you better.”

“ I love you,” she reached for his hand.

“I love you…” He leaned in, placing a soft lingering kiss against her forehead.

Gene couldn’t sleep. He laid in bed, more wide awake than he had ever been. He stopped checking the time when it passed two a.m. The only thoughts that went through his mind were of Judy. Their intertwining lives had become more strained than before. Carlton was right, her moods were all over the place, particularly so when she started filming Annie. Regretfully, their time together had been much less frequent. He was in the thick of post-production work for one of his biggest features, On the Town, which at one point took him away from her all together. They saw each other when they could but part of him couldn’t help but to place the blame on his absence. He helped her navigate through the flames on The Pirate, but as Carlton said, this was different. She was falling deeper and deeper into an illness that he couldn’t even begin to understand.

He threw the linen sheet that was covering him from the waist down to the side and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. He knew if he laid there a minute longer, he would drive himself to hysteria. Instead, he decided to drive himself to a bar. He threw on a sweater and grabbed his keys. He stumbled into the Mocambo, the club was nearly empty except for a few couples huddled anonymously in the back of their booths. He sat himself at the bar and signalled for an Irish whiskey. He was handed his drink when a sudden slap on the back startled him, making him spill a little on his sweater.

“What the fuck?” He hissed, turning to find Frank beside him.

“Sorry, Shanty, didn’t mean to scare ya. I just saw you come in, what the hell are you doing here this time of night?”

“I was thirsty,” he flatly replied, downing the remainder of his drink.

“Well, I’m glad you’re here, listen,” he began, taking the seat beside him, “I got a favour to ask you…”

“What?”

“I’m planning a romantic getaway with Ava and I’m in need of the perfect locale, that’s where you come in,” he grinned. Gene shot him a side-eyed glance.

“Your boat!” He blurted, “are you planning on using it this weekend?”

“No,” he answered, tapping his fingers on the bar to get the bartender's attention.

“Well how ‘bout it then? May I borrow it?”

Gene took a moment to answer, sighing.

“I’ll be your best friend!” He begged, pathetically.

Gene shrugged his shoulders, “I don’t care, take it.”

“That’s my boy!” He pulled Gene in by his neck but Gene pushed him off.

“What’s got your panties in a twist?” He asked, backing into his seat.

“Forget it.”

“Uh oh, troubles with a certain brunette we both know? Just tell her she was right, buy her some flowers, you’ll be outta the dog house in no time.”

Gene snickered, if only the solution were that easy, he thought.

“Sure,”

Frank paused for a moment, looking at him analytically. He was a little taken aback by his whitewashed and expressionless face, “What’s going on with you? Are you alright?”

Gene shook his head ‘no’, tightening his lips.

“I’m failing her, Frank.”

“What?”

“Ever since her and I collided nine years ago, she gave me somebody to be. She never gave up on me, she never let me fall, I exist because of her. And now… she needs my help and there isn’t a goddamn thing I can do for her.”

Frank crossed his arms, his elbows resting on the bartop, he took a deep breath in before trying to respond, “I heard about what happened,”

Gene furrowed his eyebrows, how the news about her travelled so quickly, he didn’t know. It was one thing he fucking hated about this town.

“You never know what’s true and what’s fiction in those god awful columns. But it’s true, isn’t it?”

Gene closed his eyes as a single tear fell down his cheek, “I’ve never felt so helpless in my entire life.”

“Listen, I don’t know the whole story, but I do know one thing, you’re not failing her, Gene. Mayer is failing her, even Minnelli is failing her. You? You are providing her with an escape. She once told me a long time ago now that she forgets ‘Judy Garland’ exists when she’s with you. You make everything she’s ever been afraid of disappear.”

“Then why can’t I make this disappear?”

Frank didn’t have the answers Gene was looking for. He and Gene sat silently together, and he watched as Gene drowned himself with another double. He saw to it that he didn’t drive home that night and instead opted to take him back to his place where he could dry out in relative peace. He didn’t want Betsy to see her husband like that – Gene had moved into his own bedroom, their marriage as they knew it had ended months ago but they both decided to remain under the same roof in order to keep things simple and beneficial to Kerry – but Frank wasn’t sure how much of Judy’s situation Betsy was privy to, nor did he want her to see how it affected her husband.

Gene and Stanley Donen were overseeing the editing process for On the Town in a building clear across the studio lot. He kept quiet while Stanley interjected his thoughts. Gene was usually the vocal one, especially when it came to perfecting a film that he poured his blood, sweat and tears into. Gene quietly excused himself, making his way through the large doors that led outside to get some air. As though it were on queue, Judy appeared right in front of him. His heart sank as it always did when he saw her, but when it was an unexpected encounter, it hit him differently.

“Judy…” he spoke.

“Oh, thank God I found you!” She said breathlessly, placing her arms on his elbows.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” He asked, putting his arms around her waist without a care for who may be nearby.

“They’re making me go away for awhile…” her brown eyes began to fill, “to Boston. I’m being admitted to a hospital there for a rest.” Gene’s reaction was a blank one which took Judy aback, she didn’t know he had been in on the conversation between her husband and Carleton.

“I’m, I’m leaving tomorrow,” she continued.

“What?!” He exclaimed.

Judy’s face crumpled before a stream of tears fell from her eyes.

“Ok, ok…” he pondered, trying unrealistically to figure out a last minute way he could make all her troubles vanish into thin air. He knew she would be leaving, it was only a matter of time. But the suddenness of her departure threw him completely. Judy pressed her cheek against his chest and he held her. “You’re leaving tomorrow?! I didn’t think you’d be going so soon… I thought we could… I,” he stumbled and Judy pulled back, looking up at him.

“You knew?”

Gene softly nodded, “Of course, I knew.”

“Do you think I’m crazy?” She asked him, her tears suddenly stopping.

Gene exhaled deeply through his nose, “No, baby. You’re not crazy, you’re just… tired. You need rest, you need routine,” he paused, “you need help.”

“You don’t think you can help?” She asked, her tone beginning to change in an uncomfortably familiar way.

“Don’t.”

“I just asked a question.”

“Don’t try to pick a fight with me the day before you leave, I know exactly what you’re doing and I’m sorry, but it’s not going to work, not this time,” he leaned forward and placed a kiss on her forehead. Judy raised her head slightly and his lips travelled naturally to her mouth, holding her in his warmth.

“Let’s get the hell outta here,” he whispered.

“What?”

“I want to take you out tonight… on a proper date. A romantic dinner, maybe a stroll along the pier, just the two of us. What do you say?”

“I have so much to do, Gene,” she murmured, closing her eyes.

“Please… I’ll get on my knees and beg if I have to, I need you.”

Judy widened her eyes and coyly smirked, “that’s a tempting offer,”

“I’m a desperate fool, what can I say?”

“Pick me up at our usual spot at 10. Don’t be late,” she smiled, pulling away from him.

Judy and Gene walked hand in hand along the beach, each carrying their own shoes as they felt the cool sand between their toes. The moon reflected beautifully on the Pacific and they stopped for a moment to admire the sight in front of them.

“I have to hand it to you, Mr. Kelly, that was probably the nicest evening I’ve had in a long time,” she cooed, wrapping her arm around his waist.

“Oh, my darling, you don’t think it’s over do you?”

Judy looked at him with an eyebrow raised, “We’ve had a lovely dinner, walked along the beach, hmm, whatever else could you possibly have in mind?” She purred seductively, leaning her forehead against his.

“Judy Garland, you vulgar little thing, you,” he teased, Judy’s mouth dropped. “I was merely pointing out that we have a lot more beach to walk,” he said, holding his arm out parallel to the shoreline. Judy laughed that delicious laugh of hers and for a split second, Gene all at once felt like everything would be O.K. again. He pulled her into his arms and she rested her head on his shoulder. As they stood there quietly, listening to the sound of the waves lapping against the shore, the opening bars of Bing Crosby’s Only Forever faintly travelled from a radio belonging to a couple in the distance. Judy’s mouth quickly shaped into an evocative smile.

“What?” Gene matched her expression when he looked down, catching her.

“Listen…” She whispered.

Gene was quiet, cocking his head to the side, “What is it?”

“You don’t remember?” Judy asked him, wide eyed, “The night we met, all those years ago, this is the song we shared our first dance to at the Copacabana.”

Gene closed his eyes and hung his head in shame, “Of course it is…” he murmured.

“My knees were shaking,” she reminisced.

“My heart was racing,” he added, pressing his forehead against hers, “you were the most beautiful girl I’d ever seen.”

“I looked like a duck,”

Gene laughed, pulling her in closer against his body, “a swan.”

“What was going through your mind when we were dancing together that night?” She asked as they swayed back and forth to the faint music.

Gene let out a smiling sigh, “well firstly, I was scared to death that I’d be mauled if I even made the slightest wrong move with you. Remember there was a circle of eyes upon us?”

It was Judy’s turn to laugh, “Oh, yes, I remember that, all too well. What else were you thinking?”

“Well… there was one brief moment that I can remember so vividly. We were cheek to cheek, moving slowly on the dance floor, much like we’re moving right now, and I must have cracked a joke or something –I’m assuming about how uncomfortable it was with everyone watching,” his voice became whisper-soft, “and you pulled back to look at me, almost as though you just needed me to see that I could make you laugh. I can’t explain it, but in that moment, you made me feel like I was the most important person in your world. What was I thinking? Well, darling, I never wanted to kiss somebody so badly in my entire life,” he smirked.

She pulled back in his hold, just as she had done at the Copacabana, only this time, she placed her lips on his and they kissed to the sound of Bing Crosby and the waves hitting the shoreline. Her tongue sweeping over his was euphoric. Their mouths always melded perfectly together and it took all of his willpower not to devour her right then and there. When their lips finally broke and their foreheads leaned against each other again, he spoke.

“What were you thinking when you locked yourself in the bathroom last week?” His question was so quiet it was barely audible. Judy’s eyes opened and found his peering back at her. The sound of his heart pounding was deafening in the silence between them.

“I didn’t want to die…” she explained. “I have a lot to live for, I have my baby,”

“You have me,” he interjected.

“I can’t explain what I was thinking, darling, all I could hear was constant noise in my head and I just wanted it to stop. I’m so tired. I just wanted to go to sleep, and stay that way.”

Gene breathed out through his nose, his eyes closed as he processed her response. He swallowed hard in an attempt to keep his own emotions in check.

“That’s why I need to go away… I need to sort out that constant noise in my head. Everyone thinks I’m crazy. I’m not. I’ve never been more ashamed of anything in my entire life than I am for trying that, you know.”

“I know, baby. What can I do? I need you to let me help…”

“You’ve done more for me than I could ever ask for.”

“It doesn’t feel like it,”

“Then you’re just going to have to take my word for it,” Judy placed her palms on his cheek and raised his face to hers, “you know what you could do for me?”

“What’s that?”

“Take me somewhere… with a bed.”

Gene laughed, halting his tears from spilling.

Room 204 at the Roosevelt was their room, it always had been, and by chance, it was vacant when they arrived at the front counter. They no longer cared who saw them in the foyer, Judy was already in the paper for a suicide attempt, and she joked in the car on the way there that the bar couldn’t be set any lower with the media.

It was their bodies melding together now, even more perfectly than their mouths. Gene had rolled over and turned on the soft bedside lamp when Judy climbed on top of him. Their future was a complete blur and the likelihood of being with her again any time soon was becoming dimmer and dimmer. He wanted to soak up every second with her and memorize every square inch of her incredible body. When the soft yellow glow illuminated the room, he was met with her tender smile as she placed her hand over his sternum. He drew in a sharp breath as she lowered herself onto him. Her smile shifted into an “O” and her eyes closed as her head fell back. He slid his hands up her thighs to her sides to grab a hold of her hips as she rocked back and forth in an intoxicating rhythm.

He loved the way she rode him but the sensation now was too overwhelming and he was becoming more and more uninhibited with every stroke. He pulled her against his chest and swiftly flipped her onto her back, making her squeal laughing.

“You drive me crazy when you do that, you know?”

“I know,” she purred, sliding her hand down his cheek. He turned his face into her palm and placed a gentle kiss on the little creases.

“I don’t know how I’m ever going to let you go,” he murmured.

Judy slid her hand to his mouth, pressing her index finger to his lips, “Don’t.”

Gene leaned forward and kissed her, reaching down for her wrist to bring it above her head as he entered her once more. Their fingers intertwined and the soft moans against his lips let him know he had effortlessly found her spot.

“No letting go,” she breathed in tune to their rhythm, “no goodbyes,”

“Whatever you say, Garland,” he purred.

They made love for hours, alternating between kissing, caressing, fucking, and laughing until the sun had begun to poke out over the horizon. The thin ray of sun that shone through the hotel curtains illuminated a perfect line up Judy’s spine as she laid on her belly with her arms tucked underneath her body. Her eyes were growing increasingly heavy as Gene’s fingers scarcely traced the beam of sun on her back.

“What time do you leave?” He whispered.

“Not until later,” she replied, her voice cracking.

“You should get some sleep.”

Judy unravelled one arm from underneath her torso and reached for Gene’s wrist, gripping it as though she were just trying to anchor herself to him. He lifted her hand to his lips and placed a soft kiss on each knuckle. By the time he reached her thumb, her breathing had deepened and she was fast asleep.

With a smile on his face, Gene’s eyes fluttered open and his arm immediately fell to Judy’s side of the bed. He shot up when he realized it was empty. When he went to grab his watch from the bedside table, he noticed a folded note standing on it’s side.

No Goodbyes.

See you soon, my darling.

All my unbridled love,

-J

#jugenea #fanfic

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emerald-echeveria-plant · 3 years

Text

Me to myself: Holy moly, when are you gonna stop creating treasure planet ocs?

Also me:

WARNING: mentions of murder, r*pe, miscarriage, racism, fighting, and torture.

Name:

Hatred

Actual Name:

Ailani Keahi Amore

Name pronunciation:

Ai-lan-i Kea-hi A-more

Personality:

hateful, spiteful, ambitious, unforgiving, stern, delusional, & hot-headed

Age:

Five hundred years old

Species:

Amoretian

Ethnicity:

Half Polynesian Half European

Gender:

Female

Pronouns:

She/her

Sexuality:

Asexual - Aromantic

Height:

6'9

Weight:

150

Looks:

Backstory:

(it's very long so prepare yourself for a looong read)

Many years ago, a girl by the name of Ailani was born on the planet Amoretia. Her father the prince of Amoretia and her mother a witch. Ailani was the product of an affair between the two. You see, her father was supposed to marry the neighboring princess that would end a war between both planets. Not wanting his affair to be discovered, he ordered an executioner to kill Ailani and her mother. With one chop of the axe came off her mother's head. As for Ailani. She was thrown in a river to drown. Fortunately, a local priest noticed the child being thrown. In an act of mercy, they pulled the poor thing out. Thinking that whoever throw them away must of not wanted the baby. So, the priest took in the small thing and had her raised by the nuns. They decided to give her the name Ailani. For the next fifteen years, Ailani was raised in a church by the nuns. They taught her how to read and write. Act like a proper lady. And had all the bible verses engraved into her mind. Ailani wasn't exactly raised in the most nurturing and loving place. The nuns didn't really raise Ailani as their own. They treated her fairly but it was obviously they didn't really like her. Reason why? They were massive racists. They didn't like her for her skin color so she was often met with abuse and bullying. They'd harshly critique her, push her down a flight of stairs, or straight up bully her. Regardless, Ailani kept her head up high. Being taught that revenge and wrath were sins. That she should love her enemy, no matter how hard they hurted her feelings.. or physically hurted her. Ailani would try to hide her anger but it was obvious that there cruelty was bothering her. Not wanting to commit the sin of wrath against the others, she decided to take her anger out on the forest. She'd spend hours during the night, punching trees. Often muttering to herself about her mistreatment. Sometimes, she'd end up breaking a few of the trees. It escalated from trees, to boulders, and a few times, beast's that would roam the forest. Of course, Ailani could never bring herself to killing the beast. So she'd up letting them go. Ailani ended up becoming physical stronger because of what she wad doing. Some of the civilians noticed this as whenever she wanted to do a simple task, like opening a door, she would accidentally break it off its hinges. Ailani would apologize right afterwards and try to fix it.

One day while attending church, a couple of theives came in, trying to rob the people attending. Ailani was not going to stand by and watch the people get their goods taken away from them. In an act of heroism, Ailani decided fight against the thieves. They laughed in her face and mocked her on how "a tiny little nun was gonna take down four men twice her size." They underestimated the fact that underneath that nun outfit was JACKED woman getting ready to knock their lights out. It took less than a few minutes for the four theives to beg for her to stop. Ailani told them to repent their ways before they were taken away to jail. Unfortunately, what happened right afterwards was Ailani getting kicked out of the church for "acting like a deranged hooligan." It was an obvious excuse for them just to kick her out but Ailani didn't seem to notice that. She was broken by this but instead of lashing out at them, she thanked them for having her there and wished them all well. Ailani moved away from her small village to seek work elsewhere.

As she was looking for work in the city, Quartzville, she stumbled across another problem. A pirates were invading the city as an act of revenge towards the king. Just as Ailani was going to leave to avoid further escalation, two wannabe "heros" came out to protect the citizens. One being a red haired young man by the name of "Sevi" and the other a valiante woman by the name of "Maribelle". They looked to be around Ailani age but clearly weren't as mature. The two tried to fight them off but embarrassingly failed. Ailani, not wanting to view their failure any longer, tried to leave once more. What stopped her was seeing the captain of the crew, stealing a toy away from a little girl then mocking her sadness. Angered by this, Ailani told the captain to knock it off. He mocked her as well which resulted in Ailani fighting him. She almost lost but by some sheer luck, managed to get in the final punch in, knocking him out. The royal guards arrived just on time in order to arrest the entire pirate crew. Some escaped but the majority weren't so lucky. Meanwhile, Ailani was cleaning the blood dropping down her nose when one of the wannabe heros walked up to her. It was Sevi. He seemed rather impressed by her strength. He introduced himself to her and asked if she would like to be apart of their hero group. Which only consisted of Sevi and Maribelle. Ailani wasn't sure if she should. She didn't know if in the eyes of God if this was the right thing to do. She has already been kicked out of her previous church for fighting and already felt guilty for committing another "sin". Sevi, realizing she was a religious person, decided to manipulate her by using her religion. Saying that "of course god would appreciate you for doing this" and that "you'll be just like all those heroes in the fairytal- I mean stories."

After being "convinced" it would be a virtuous act in the eyes of god, Ailani agreed to being apart of their group.

For the next few months, the trio would fight crimes and put criminals in jail. They were praised for their acts of heroism by the people of Amoretia. They'd often be gifted things like money, clothes, and alcohol. Mostly it'd be Maribelle and Sevi partaking in the gifts. Ailani on the other hand not so much. She didn't want compensation for her help, believing that it was wrong of her to get something in return. Strangely, Ailani would oftenly be the one doing most of the work. Sevi would often to get distracted trying to show off and Maribelle would let her anger get the best of her. Ailani would just get straight to the point. Shed be the one favored the most out of the three of them. Ailani didn't care that she was more liked, she's doing her job. Meanwhile, Sevi was growing jealous of the favoritism she was facing. Maribelle, could care less. She only wanted alcohol after all.

Sevi would make it obvious he was jealous towards Ailani. Ailani being kind-hearted would try to make him feel better. This would work sometimes but most of the time he'd brush her off. Ailani still persisted in making him happy. Secretly, Ailani had feelings for Sevi. She thought he was attractive, smart, and charismatic. This was the first person she was ever in love with. Someone she felt that understood her as a person. Ailani often felt that it was her fault for his unhappiness, so she tried to make him happy in any way she could. Realizing that Ailani would do anything for him, Sevi had some rather interesting thoughts he could do with her... Such as making her risk her life to get him things, convince the public that he deserves all the credit for their victories, and had her do some inappropriate favors for him. Ailani didn't care how stressful his tasks were. If it made him happy, she was happy. They ended up getting into a relationship when Sevi thought she was "good enough" for him. Ailani was enthralled with their relationship, finally getting to be with her one true love. She believed that they were meant to be.

Although their relationship came crashing down, when the trio went to a party at the king's castle. Their they met the king, the queen, and the princess, Angelina Amore. Angelina was a beautiful pink haired maiden with a bubbly attitude. Albeit she was incredibly spoiled, many men still wanted to marry her. One of those men being Sevi. It wasn't purely out of love but more out of wanting to be king. He immediately asked for the king for his daughters hand in marriage. The king turned him down, not wanting his daughter to marry a peasant. Although, he quickly reiterated his answer when seeing Ailani at the party. He couldn't believe it with his own eyes. Was that his daughter?? The same child he requested to be killed many years ago?? Alive? No. It couldn't be. After processing what he saw. He thought to himself that she shouldn't be kept alive. His reasoning being what if she revealed that he cheated on his wife? The resembles of her looking like him was far too much. He could be kicked from his throne if the people of Amoretia found out. Amoretians don't take cheating on your spouse very lightly... Deciding she shouldn't be kept alive. Yet the people loved her so much. Her disappearnce would obviously go under investigation... The king decided to make a deal with Sevi. If he got rid of Ailani, he could marry Angelina as a reward. Sevi agreed to the deal.

After the party, the king let the three heros stay in his castle for the night. As they all went to sleep, Sevi snuck out from his room and went to the servants room. He proceeded to slit their throats, killing them in their sleep. Sevi then went to Ailani room where he placed the knife he used in her bed. He proceeded to covered her hands in blood as well as the sheets. In the morning, the queen screamed at the sight of her servant staff lifeless bodies. Immediately, people started questioning who committed such a horrible crime. Then Ailani came out of her room, covered in blood. Seeing the blood, the queen blamed her for what happened. She wanted Ailani to be executed for her crimes. Ailani tried to reason with the queen, pleading that she was innocent. She even tried to have Sevi to convince her that it wasn't true. Sevi, turned his back on her and said she must have done it. The king stepped in between the two women, trying to calm both down. Albeit, the evidence was too far stacked against Ailani. The king sentenced her to life in prison on the planet Xevari. She was then dragged away by the guards and put on a ship where she'd be shipped off to Xevari. Xevari was one of the worst planets to be on. The entire planet was dedicated to being a prison for the worst possible inmates, who've committed the worst crimes. The guards would often treat the inmate like dirt. Some inmates were violently killed and there bodies were never found again. Fights would happen everyday over the smallest issues. It was quite literally a hell on Earth... As soon as Ailani arrived, she was treated no different than the other inmates. Even though she was on the worst planet in the eitherium, Ailani tried to be kind and thoughtful towards everyone. This only made the inmates and guards despise her. Ailani would be picked on by everyone in the jail. Didn't matter if they were a low ranking officer or a the biggest guy in courtyard. Ailani would be treated awful. Yet, she still persisted in being kind. One day a new inmate arrived. A special type of inmate was put in the prison. The inmate was a large hell beast of dragon with a skeletal appearance. It killed anything in it's path for killing was all that it knew. Ailani took interest in the creature. One night, she visited it. What she saw was the dragon with several scars and a spear piercing one of its wings. Ailani felt pity for it and immediately tried to help it. The dragon tried to attack her but after realizing she was helping him, stopped to let her pull it out. After that incident, Ailani formed a bond with the creature because they shared similar experiences. They were both tormented by the inmates and guards. There was unfortunately nothing that they could do about it. Ailani wasn't as strong and the dragon was chained down. But they had each other. Ailani decided to call the beast "Carrion". A play ok words as he seemed to always "carry on living". The dragon didn't understand puns buy none the less took the name regardless. The guards noticed her befriending the hell beast and decided that they weren't going to let her have a simple slice of happiness within this jail.

The guards decided to punish her by throwing her into a room with all the deranged lunatics. Saying, "try being kind to these crazies" before chuckling and walking off. What happened next was Ailani getting forced on by all the men in the room. It was a horrible experience and one that would finally be the breaking point for her. Once they were done with her, she was left in an emotional state. Hyperventilating and crying. Ailani questioned how she got herself into this situation. Why would god curse her to suffer through this fate? What did she do wrong? After questioning herself, Ailani was dragged back into her cell. Where another guard proceeded to rape her. The following days, Ailani would be in a state of shock over what happened. She had thoughts running through her mind still questioning her own religion and actions. Ailani hadn't realized this but she was pregnant at the time from being raped. She unfortunately went through an incredibly painful miscarriage in her cell. No one came to help her or take her to a doctor. While having a psychotic breakdown, Ailani finally came to the conclusion to all the roots of her problems. Love. Love was the reason why she was here... She has her love to the wrong people, she loved the wrong person, she loved... In that very moment, Ailani became a hateful person. She wanted revenge and she was going to get it. Ailani silently made plans on how she could escape from the prison. She went with the best possible outcome. When the guards weren't watching, Ailani took the pair of keys they had in their pocket. She unlocked herself from cell and immediately headed towards Carrion's cell. Ailani freed him from his chains. What followed next was mayhem. Carrion destroyed and killed multiple people as him and Ailani made their escape. No one could seem to stop the beast so they best thing to do was run... Eventually, they got off of Xevari with Carrion flying away while Ailani was on his back. Ailani told Carrion to go to the planet Amoretia. She promised him that there was plenty of victims to eat if he listened to her. That same day they were arriving to the planet was the day Sevi was marrying Angelina. The spoiled princess finally agreed to marry him after some persuasion from her parents. Just as Angelina was walking down the aisle to her new husband, Carrion flew down and devoured the princess. Carrion blew his acidic fire breath towards all the guests as Ailani went for the king and queen. She blamed them for her issues and wanted to kill them both. With one chop from an axe came off the queens head. The king desperately pleaded with Ailani to not kill him. He even said that he was her father in a last attempt to save himself. That only fueled Ailani's anger even more. She chopped off all his limbs and went for his head last. As for Sevi, he met the same fate as Angelina. Albeit more gruesome. Carrion tore the tiny man apart before eating him as well. Amoretia became disarray. All the royals were now dead. Who would take charge next..? Unfortunately it would be whoever was the last blood relative... Ailani.

No one wanted her to rule seeing as how she was responsible for their deaths in the first place. But they had to bow to her... You see only blood relatives could be in charge of Amoretia for they could yield the magical staff that protects Amoretia. Passed from the older generations, the staff was entrusted to the future generations to protect Amoretia. To use it's magic to help others in need. Ailani now knowing of this power, took it for herself. The staff dramatically changed from it's colors of white, red, and pink to black and red. Instead of using its power for good... She used it to torture others and make them suffer. Ailani changed her name once she got a hold of the staff... She changed it to Hatred. For that was the only feeling she could feel now. Hatred made it clear that she was the eitherium's savior and it needed a deep cleansing to get rid of love. She blamed love for all the problems that exist. Saying love was an unnatural feeling, a disease of sorts that plagued ones mind. Hatred was going to get rid of all love. In any way she could, no matter how hard it took.

Her tyranny started with her forcing her new ideology on the people of Amoretia. The people tried revolting against her but with the help of her new staff and her pet, Carrion, they were silenced into submission. She managed to "cleanse" Amoretia by getting rid of all love. Hatred went from Amoretia to neighboring planets in order to "cleanse" them as well. Multiple planets faced the same fate as Amoretia. Becoming incredibly miserable to live in. A war started between Hatred against the entire eitherium. No one wanted to believe this insane woman's ideology and they certainly weren't going to submit to her either without a fight. So the war went on, with both sides facing multiple casualties. Hatred went on with an ironfist, refusing to give up. She'd often take kidnapped soldiers and torture them back on Amoretia. Pictures of the soldier's mutaliated bodies surfaced with the intent of driving fear into her enemies hearts. Albeit as the war went on, she became very paranoid. She felt like someone was plotting to kill her. To stop her from cleansing the eitherium. She'd have frequent nightmares about it. Hatred refused to sleep or even eat anything in case it was poisoned. In order to ease her paranoia, she tried conducting a spell that would make her immortal... Hatred couldn't risk dying because she believed it was in her virtuous purpose to make all love disappear. After multiple months, she managed to make an elixir of immortality. She drank it which killed her minute but immediately brought her back to life. It caused her hair color to change to black and her eyes to a red hue. Now that she was immortality, there was absolutely nothing standing in her way. She conducted more spells so that her army could become stronger, faster, and easier to control. The armies against her, couldn't take it anymore. They were on the verge of giving up. It seemed like Hatred was going to win. The eitherium was going to become an utter hellhole from now on... Luckily, as Hatred planned her next attack, she was ambushed by enemy soldiers. Somehow they were able to kill Carrion and managed to get to her. Hatred didn't have her army with her and tried using her magic. Fortunately with there being more enemies against her, she was promptly knocked out and had her staff taken away from her. A couple of hours had passed and Hatred woke up with chains all around her. She was at the bottom of a well and above her were the leaders, looking down at her. They declared that this was her punishment for the crimes that she's committed. Hatred tried to argue that what she was doing was an act of good and that love was a true plague on the world. Not wanting to listen to her rambling anymore, the sealed up the well and left her there to rot..

The leaders of the other planets announced that Hatred was dead. They were lying but it was too keep the people safe and to not cause panic. Albeit, some rumors floated around saying that she wasn't actually dead.. perhaps she was still alive.. being kept somewhere.. and maybe... Just maybe.. she was planning on returning one day.

Likes:

Torture, heavy metal, red wine, writing, and "enlightening" others

Dislikes:

Love, children, making fun of her ideology, and essentially everything/everyone else in the universe

Weaknesses:

Anger; her own anger is her weakness. While she's on a rampage, she'll be too angry to realize what's happening around her.

Easy to manipulate; hatred makes it obvious what her goals are which can be taken advantage of by others.

Harm; she may be immortal but she can still have harm inflicted on her.

Ambition; Hatred will do anything it takes to get to her goal of destroying all love

Strengths:

Physical strength; she's so strong she can break your arm like a bar of twix.

Strategy; is skilled in battle strategy to know how to attack her enemy

Immortal; unfortunately she can't really die.

Pets:

Has a large hell beast of a dragon by the name of Carrion. It's a skeletal dragon that can firebreath acidic fire. He likes to tear the bones from his victims and add it to his own body in order to make himself look more fearsome and bigger.

Weapons:

Magical staff; a staff that which can perform any type of magic. Currently being occupied by the Terran royal family.

Duel swords; two swords used for the purpose of harming others

Other:

As an initiation to join her army, soldiers have masks sewn onto their faces. In her ideology they were giving themselves a new purpose so they needed a new identity.

#welp the Treasure Planet universe just turned into silent hill #oc insert #tw: rape #tw: death #tw: murder #tw: mental illness #tw: torture #tw: mutilation #Hatred

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