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twola · 1 year ago

Note

Sorta got carried away with the prompt list…(I must be ovulating because DAMN the pregnancy prompts got me going)

But #161, 154,151,140,125- where the reader is preggo and miserable walking around camp so the gangs giving out ideas (sexy time) and Arthur’s like ;) then later on the reader is like ya know what get over here.

Do with it what you will.

You do the best with anything you type!

Xoxo

Oh - trust me, I am into this.

I'm also eight months pregnant myself so I am SUPER into this. Am I projecting something here? Perhaps…

Pain Relief

Arthur Morgan x F!Reader Smut (18+), MDNI, Pregnancy Sex, Breeding Kink

➵ Fic Masterlist ➵ AO3 Link

You are very over it at this point. Really. Very over it. It’s a struggle to get yourself out of the cot that you and Arthur share.

The morning sun beats down on the worn canvas of your shared tent, and you know it's by some divine providence that Miss Grimshaw hasn’t summoned you to work yet. Or maybe it was Arthur snapping at her when he saw you struggling to carry a basket of laundry.

That must be it.

But a laze you are not - even now, when your swollen stomach makes any kind of movement difficult - when your sleep is nearly non-existent and the pains and swelling and overall discomfort are driving you crazy.

Pushing yourself up, you huff, annoyed that seven months ago you were chasing down bounty hunters on horseback and now getting up out of a cot makes you lose your breath.

God, this was terrible. Finally getting around to standing up, you glance at yourself in the small mirror Arthur uses for shaving. Your chemise stretched taught over the swell of your belly. The dark circles under your eyes from lack of quality sleep. Sighing, you run your fingers through your long hair to tame it, or at least attempt to. After fighting with the fabric of your dress to cover your frame, you shove your feet into your boots and breathe out heavily as you sit back on the cot to tie the laces. God damn everything is a struggle with how swollen your belly is.

By the time you make it out of the tent, the midmorning sun beats down, and you shield your eyes for a moment before you feel a small tug on your skirts. You look down to see Jack give you a toothy grin, one small hand fisting the cotton of your skirt and the other clutching the most recent toy Charles had carved for him.

“Auntie, you’re so big! You look ready to pop." Jack pipes up excitedly.

You laugh as you hear a cluck of disapproval as Abigail follows in her son’s footsteps, “Jack - that’s very rude of ya - shouldn’t make comments about ladies like that.”

“It’s alright, Abigail,” You smile at her as she frowns down at the boy, “I do feel ready to pop.”

“Y’look like the baby’s dropped… ain’t long now.” Abigail’s eyes trail down to your belly as she shoos Jack off to play elsewhere.

“Too long in my opinion.” You roll your eyes and Abigail chuckles in return.

“Ladies!”

Susan Grimshaw’s voice cuts through the peace of the morning. Abigail’s gaze looks past you to where the sharp disappointment came from, and you frown as you hear footsteps stomp ever closer before the camp matriarch pushes into your view.

“There’s laundry to be done,” Susan eyes you up and down, “You can certainly sit and still do the washing. C’mon, get to it.”

She waves her hands at you dismissively, Abigail rolls her eyes and starts to head over toward where the other women have started doing the day’s wash.

You scowl at Grimshaw’s retreating figure, rubbing your aching lower back as you too make your way over to the edge of the camp, where the large tub is filled with soapy water and the pile of men’s shirts seems to be overflowing. You sigh tiredly, finding the stool

Mary-Beth places her hand on your back slightly over your own, massaging gently as you sigh in a moment of temporary relief.

"Try walking, I hear it helps. Tilly and I will cover for you for a few minutes.”

You thank her quietly and slowly make your way to the woodline of camp, taking a few minutes to walk back and forth before giving up and sitting down on the stool, letting out a long, labored breath as you wince in pain.

“Y’know….”

You open one of your eyes to see Karen across the tub, a mischievous look on her face. Cocking your eyebrow, you wait for her to continue.

Karen smirks, "You should try having sex."

Well - volume was never her strong suit. Across the camp, the men’s conversation falls silent as several pairs of eyes glance at you.

You flush from your hairline to your chest as you dunk a shirt into the tub, trying to ignore the stares you know you're getting as Karen merely chuckles.

“Aye, Arthur- sounds like you're needed elsewhere.” Javier chuckles and you're mortified.

You spare the quickest glance up in his direction, the man who got you into this mess in the first place. You can see Arthur’s smug grin from under the rim of his hat.

You silently scrub at the rest of the laundry load, handing shirts to Tilly for her to wring out and hang on the line.

“Don’t let her get to you, you know how Karen is. Tilly places a hand on your shoulder and squeezes gently to assure you before returning to the laundry. You sigh, taking another shirt and dunking it into the water.

A pair of boots land in your vision before a hand reaches down toward you. You look up to see Arthur ready to pull you up to stand, a gentle smile on his face.

“C’mon now sweetheart.”

You sigh and take his hand, secretly grateful for the assistance to stand up. He steadies you before pulling your hand to his lips and pressing them to your knuckles.

“How’s about you lay down for a little.” He offers, holding his arm out to you as you wind your own around it, letting him walk you slowly to the tent, holding back the canvas for you to step inside.

You let out a long breath, bracing your lower back with both hands for a moment before sighing. There was just no getting comfortable at this point.

“C’mere, let me help you.”

Arthur stoops down on one knee and loosens your bootlaces enough that he can pull them from your feet one by one. You let a breath out once both boots are off, unable to deny it felt good to get your swollen feet out of them.

“Better?” He looks up at you for a moment and you nod, your hand moving from his shoulder that you were balancing on to your lower back again, idly rubbing at near-constant ache that has settled there.

Arthur stands up and places a kiss to your forehead before turning around and taking his hat off, placing it on the small table where he kept his shaving kit.

Karen’s suggestion echoes in your mind as you watch him run his fingers through his short hair absentmindedly.

You roll your palm over your distended abdomen, frowning.

“You don’t have to lie and tell me you want me.” Your voice cuts through the silence and Arthur swings around to look at you, puzzled.

“Darlin’, it ain’t a lie. It’s never a lie.” He responds softly, taking a step closer to you.

“Really? Lookin’ like this… it does something for you?”

Arthur blushes before looking down at his boots. “Well, I… uh... Yes?”

You quirk your eyebrow, placing your hands on your hips, “I’m a goddamn watermelon-”

“You’re pregnant-”

“Literally swollen up like a damn cow-”

“C’mon now darlin’-”

And damn, if you can’t hold back the tears from collecting on your eyelashes as you spin away from him.

His broad arms wrap around your swollen waist, pulling you back half a step and against his large frame. One hand spreads wide over your belly as you feel him press his lips to the top of your head.

“I… ain’t the woman you was chasin’ after anymore.” You admit with a cracking voice, the tears spilling down your cheeks as your hand falls upon his over your belly, “Who knows when I’ll be able to ride or shoot or do anythin’ like that again.”

His lips move from the top of your head down to your earlobe, where he nips gently. Arthur’s low voice rumbles in your ear, causing a delightful shiver down your spine.

“Whole world knows you’re mine -” He pulls you another half backward and you gasp as you feel the long, hard line of him against your rear, “Christ, you’re the most beautiful thing alive, all big with my child.”

“A-Arthur - ” You whine as one of his hands cups a swollen breast through your blouse.

“Have half a mind to keep you like this.” Arthur continues, his other hand moving downward to slide between your legs and the needy sound that escapes your throat is loud enough to make him shush you as he presses at your core through layers of cotton.

Your hands fly to grasp his forearm as he gently gropes at your breast, and you turn your head up toward his and he greedily pushes his lips upon your own, tongue pressing inside your mouth as you moan into his.

You have no idea how long it is you spend wrapped up in his arms - your hips pressing back into his, his hands groping at your breasts and cunt, your knees shaking as you pant into his mouth.

Those damned hands of this, they keep you under his spell as somehow, he unlaces your skirts and they fall to the ground in a heap around your ankles. He spins you around in his embrace, and his lips fly to your neck as he opens the buttons of your blouse. You let him pull the sleeves down your arm, leaving you in just an old cotton chemise stretched tight over your belly. The seam of your bloomers, soaked, chafes delightfully against your cunt.

It’s only another moment before he’s shrugging your chemise down over your shoulders to free your breasts.

“What’s gonna be the best for you?” Arthur whispers into your ear, his warm, somewhat rough palm engulfing your breast, squeezing it gently.

Your head tips backward as you lean against him, a high and flighty moan bubbling up from your chest. “On- on my side-”

Your chemise flutters to the floor, along with your bloomers, his hands pushing the cotton down of your body.

“Go on, get in the cot and get comfortable.” Arthur nips at your ear again and gives a playful swat to your rear.

You nod, eyes falling from his face to his hands as he pulls his suspenders down his arms and begins unbuttoning his work shirt. You back up two steps to the cot, slowly sitting down upon it, your gaze refusing to leave him as he strips himself down.

With the speed of a man on a mission, he rids himself of his boots and the rest of his clothing and stalks the few steps to the cot. You turn yourself over to lay in it, burdened by your stomach as you let out a long breath as you finally settle down on your side, facing the wagon that makes up the side of the tent.

Arthur slides into the small cot next to you, that warm, big hand finding its way to your belly as he situates himself behind you, pressing all six feet of his frame against you, his body hard, hot, and wanting.

“You tell me what feels good, darlin’.” He mouths against your neck as his hand retracts behind your hip to stroke his cock.

You moan lowly and press your hips back against him, you can feel his smile on your skin as he guides himself to your entrance. The blunt head of his cock presses into the rim of your cunt, and his hand moves to sling your thigh back over his, opening you to him more.

“Mm, that feels good.” Your voice strains as he slides himself deeper into you, a deep, satisfied rumble coming from his chest when his hips press fully against your rear, fully sheathed in your cunt.

His arm swings across your hips, pulling your thigh backward even more as he languidly rolls himself into you. His fingers find that small bundle of nerves as he nibbles on your earlobe.

You mewl aloud at the stimulation, panting as he continues to press himself into you. His low, rough voice whispers in your ear, vacillating from sweet nothings to filthy utterances. The slide of his cock into your cunt is the constant, grounding thing as his fingers that rub at your clit speed up and slow down.

“A-Arthur-” you pitifully whine, gasping as you huddle toward that precipice. He grunts into your ear as he slightly picks up the speed of his hips rolling into yours, still gentle. He pinches at that nub and you’re gone, your legs shaking and hips seizing as you meek through your release, your slick glossing his cock and dripping from your body, even with him filling you.

“Tha’s my girl…” Arthur slurs as his hand moves up to cup at your lower belly, “Christ, I ain't ever gonna be able to stop fillin’ you-”

His murmurs fade into a groan as he presses forward one final time, burying himself deeply in your warmth as he shudders his release into you.

You sigh in contentment at the feeling, warmth blooming from your joined hips. His lips touch the back of your neck as his large hand rubs gently at your hip as he catches his breath.

Arthur gently pulls out, you gasp slightly at the feelings of the loss of his flesh and the dripping of his warm spend from your body. He shushes you with a kiss over your jaw, rubbing circles over your swollen belly.

“Feelin’ any better?”

Your hand covers his over your belly as you lean back fully into his embrace.

“Much better.”

#red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #rdr2 #red dead redemption #red dead fanfic #arthur morgan smut #arthur morgan x female reader #rdr2 fanfic #red dead fandom #twolafic #arthur morgan x reader #miniprompt #voluptatem

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milunalupin · 6 months ago

Text

— tale as old as time

chapter two

chapter one

beast!remus x beauty!reader ★ 1.9k words

The sun had risen in Riquewihr, your father's chickens clucking outside of your small home on the outskirts of town. You tiptoed through the house to not wake up your father, grabbing and putting on your shrug that was laying over a chair. Collecting the book you had to return to Mister Longbottom from the dining room table you left the house, making your way into the town's center. You wrapped your shrug tighter around you as the brisk morning air ran a chill over you, your shoes echoing over the cobblestone path. You always went to the bakery first to make sure you got the freshest bread for you and your father.

"Good morning Madame Potter, you look puzzled." You chuckled as she walked up to the baker's stand.

"I woke up today feeling like I've lost something again, I just don't remember what." the merchant replied, one of her ceramic bowls in her hands as she looked around her space in confusion. She stopped her search to grab a fresh loaf from her basket and handing it over to you in exchange for a few coins. "Where are you off to today, amie?"

"I just finished reading this book, I'm on my way to return it now. It's about two lovers in northern Italy."

"Sounds boring." Lily scrunched her nose with a smile.

You laughed and waved at the red head , turning to walk towards the town's tiny library. You didn't have to look around to know that the other villagers were staring at you. Since arriving, your father and yourself were often pushed aside and looked down upon. Your father was older, and an inventor. Apparently being the two meant that there was something off in your head. And you, a young woman with no intention of finding herself a husband, were promised to a life of loneliness and poor lifestyle. Many assumed that once your father was gone, you would end up on the streets begging for scraps, a woman with nothing with the ability to read, deeming you useless.

Lucky for you, friendship was easily found in Lily Potter and Frank Longbottom, the kind owner of the library. You continued your stroll, the bell tower ringing to indicate the start of the day.

The town square was the most colorful part of the village, stands full of perfectly picked flowers and buckets of the season's harvests. Vendors shouted over the crowd selling textiles and meats, a cleaver just barely missing your arm as you got pushed around the hustle and bustle of the market.

"Y/N!

A self proclaimed war hero. An arrogant hunter who all the women in the village were in love with. Evan Rosier was Riquewihr's most eligible bachelor, his tall stature and aristocratic features apparently the best thing since fresh bread. He wasn't the brawniest, but he held himself such a way that made all the ladies swoon.

"Here, beautiful flowers for a beautiful lady."

You did your best to keep a polite smile on your face as Evan just about shoved the bouquet into your arms. This unfortunately wasn't your first encounter with the hunter, and you feared it wasn't the last. You knew he was considered the most handsome man in the village, but no amount of attractiveness could overlook such a sour and vain personality. Glancing down at the colorful arrangement of flowers in her hands, you nodded towards Evan and took a step back to continue on your stroll.

"Thank you Evan, I'll see you-"

"Dinner, tonight. I'll arrive just before sundown." he smirked,

"Sorry, I'm busy!" You began walking away from him, the flowers slowly getting ripped apart as you squeezed you way through the crowd to further distance from him. Apologies Mister Longbottom, the books will have to wait for another day.

"Not too busy for a gentleman's company, I'm sure!"

You weaved around the market, slipping into an alleyway, holding your breath to hear if he was nearby. As soon as you saw him strut by, you let out a breath of relief, letting yourself leaning against the stone wall for a moment before turning towards the direction of your house.

Surprisingly, Evan wasn't even the worst part of Riquewiher. The villagers weren't as good at whispering as they thought, or perhaps they meant for you to hear all of the mean comments they made daily. You weren't oblivious to the nasty glares and insults. You didn't share the same miniscule mindset as everyone else, and you wished that one day you could leave it all behind and explore what else the world has to offer. Until then, your books will have to do.

With your little cottage just up ahead, the coast felt clear. But of course with your luck, an obnoxious smile and shiny boots stopped you in your path.

"That's a nice book you have there."

"Evan, do you read?"

You stand there looking confused as he let out a boisterous laugh, shaking his head. "What kind of man do you take me for, of course I don't."

"Of course, how silly of me to assume there was anything in that head of yours besides.. well, is there even a brain in there?"

"Ladies mustn't speak like—" You shut the door behind and blew out a breath, relieved to be at home in your safe space. Hearing your father's whistling from the dining room table, you smiled and walked over to him hunched over his newest invention. It seemed to be his favorite project, a small metal replica of what you believed to be your old family home in Paris. Inside sat tiny figurines identical to your father, mother, and a small bundle which had to have been yourself.

"I don't think the villagers like me very much."

"What's not there to like about you? You're beautiful, very smart, and most importantly, you're kind." he sent you a certain look, the side of his mouth twitching up. "Sort of like someone I used to know."

Your eyes softened at his response. It warmed your heart to know that no matter how much time went on since your mother's passing, his love for her never faded.

Your father gives you a sympathetic smile, coming over to kiss the top of your head before turning back around to collect his things and packing them in a trunk. That's right, it was the time of year that your father left town and traveled to the market to sell his work and meet other creatives. Though you'd missed him dearly, his trips took no longer than a few days.

"Alright my little flower, what shall I bring you back?"

"You already know father. All I'd like is a rose."

The journey to the market was a relatively easy and familiar one. Your father and family horse, Philippe, take the same woodland route every few months. Upon reaching a fork in the road he doesn't remember existing, a breeze of cold air runs through the forest, sending a bit of a chill throughout his body.

"Well Philippe, we've got to make sure we pick the right path." he laughed to himself , nudging the horse towards the right. This path was unfamiliar, but it couldn't take him too far off from his destination. Besides, he'd look bad making that joke to Phillippe only to take the opposite route.

He had to say, the treetops blocking out the sun did make it a little chillier, and the lack of the usual river he followed deprived him from the calming sounds of the running water. The two continued on through the forest, making the most of the greenery and the.. snow?

Philippe's hoof clacking became muffled as the fluffy snowfall increased, a far away howl waking up the artist from his calm state. He was not at the age to try an outrun any wolves, especially not with the precious cargo he had strapped to his horse. Nudging his hooved friend with his calf, they carefully trotted along. The sun had begun setting an hour later, making it harder to see for the older man. Philippe and himself were tired, they were not expecting for this journey to take as long as it had, perhaps he should've taken the left path instead. Just as he was about to give and set up camp among the trees, metal gates came into view. As they got closer, he realized that the metal gates stood at the entrance of a large garden, with an even larger castle standing tall behind it.

With the drop in temperature, your father wasted no time in passing through the gates, tying Philippe up outside, and entering the castle. The foyer was dark, apart from the warm glow from the crackling fireplace. He quickly made his way over to the the heat, rubbing his hands together and letting out a big sigh of relief from escaping the cold even just for a moment.

A clinking of ceramic pulled his attention away from the fire, eyes scanning the room. They finally fell upon a a teacup sitting on a saucer, sliding across the floor in his direction. The teacup then looked up at him with his eyes and spoke. "Papa said I wasn't allowed to move, in case I scare you. But you looked cold so I thought you might like a hot cup of tea."

He blinked, nodded politely while his mind ran a thousand kilometers a minute. "Right, well.. I actually-"

Your father may not be young enough to outrun wolves but he hopes he's faster than this teacup. Philippe's lead had never been untied faster, hoping he was only experiencing hypothermia induced hallucinations while inside. He mounted the horse find his way to his original destination when he notices rose vines nearby, a speckles of red peeking out from the sheet of snow.

"Oh," A cloud of cold breath joins his laugh, "How could I forget?"

Jumping off Philippe, he step towards the prettiest flower to take home to you, when a deep snarl stops him in his tracks. He looks up just as the shadow looming over him presents itself, shaggy fur and giant horns making him fall back onto the snow. He tries to crawl quickly back to Philippe but the monster took hold of his arm and dragged him back into the castle. The frightened horse manages to escape and run off, leaving his owner in the hands of the massive predator.

"Please, let me go! I'll never tell a soul I was here, I promise!" his cries echoed through the candle-lit stairwells on the towers, reaching no one. Roughly thrown into the cell by the creature, he sat with his back against the wall and held his arm in pain.

"Oh I'll make sure of it." The giant beast growled lowly, locking the cell door and stomping away.

Your father had slumped down in his cell, his heart feeling heavy thinking of you alone back home. The stone was ice cold and rough, and the cell had a large opening that led to nothing but what seemed to be a fifty foot drop to his death.

On the steps leading to the West Wing sat a clock, a candelabra, a teapot, and a teacup. They watched in sorrow as their master stomped passed by them to his bedroom where an encased rose sat, one of its enchanted petals falling off and wilting away.

taglist ♥︎

@propertyofrjl @urmomw4ntsme @gooseycaboose

#marauders #marauders era #marauders x reader #remus lupin #remus lupin x reader #remus john lupin #remus john lupin x reader #remus x reader #beast!remus #sirius black #beauty!reader #beauty and the beast #evan rosier

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buckets-and-trees · 2 years ago

Text

Unholy Errand

Characters/Pairings: Lloyd Hansen x female!Reader, God the Bounty Hunter x female!Reader, Ransom Drysdale Word Count: 4k Summary: You're caught in the crosshairs when a hit goes out for your boss.

Content/Warnings: explicit smut: non-consent and dubious consent, cuckolding, bondage, knife play, dacryphilia, oral (m and f receiving), cumplay, spitting, facial/marking, groping, spanking, clothed males naked female, coarse language; mild but irreverent use of religious terminology/themes (we’ve got a bounty hunter who refers to himself as God – we’re not committing hard to the bit, but we are using the bit); use of pet names + no y/n; kidnapping

Notes: I was happily working on some other lovely things last weekend, and then Sunday afternoon, totally unprovoked, a rogue muse crept up and whispered, "Lloyd and God..." and my brain broke, and I told @navybrat817 and she immediately enabled/encouraged the sprouting of this fic (and helped identify exactly who these two would be after). I thought this might be fifteen hundred words... and then it hit 2k, and then 3k, and they still weren't done with poor Reader, so...

Additional Notes: First time writing Lloyd, God, or Ransom in any capacity. This is also straight up the filthiest thing I've gone all in on. Is it the filthiest thing that exists on the internet? Of course not, but my filthiest and READ THE TAGS. This is NOT your standard Aspen fic. But was this a bit of a riot to write? Yep. It had a chokehold on me all week, and I stayed up far too late to finish it off tonight because... if I didn't, life would've prevented me finishing for a couple more days, and I've been too eager to push this out.

The clearing of his throat is what pulls your attention. You look up from your desk, taking in long legs in impossibly tight white slacks showing too much ankle, and a torso clad in a black turtleneck and blazer. A thick mustache lives above his smirk. He was too silent entering the offices, and he knows it, seems to revel in unsettling you. “Lloyd Hansen, the six o’clock appointment.”

“Yes, if you’ll follow me right this way,” you proffer politely, and move smoothly out of your chair, leading him to the door of your boss’s office. You give a short knock and open the door, announcing, “Lloyd Hansen, sir,” as you briefly step inside, holding the door open for the man.

He’s still smirking as he passes by, and then you sweep back out, but not before hearing Lloyd whistle and say, “Fancy shit you got yourself in this office, Ran,” as you close the door on them.

You sigh as you sit back down at your desk. Lloyd is your boss’s last meeting of the night, and he had seemed more than perturbed when he said to go ahead and accept the last-minute request Lloyd had made for the appointment. While this is the meeting of the day, Mr. Drysdale had made it clear he was staying late, which means you are also staying late, so you pull out the file of menus you keep in your desk and begin mulling over where to order dinner from tonight.

There’s a succession of loud thuds on the other side of the wall, and you only hesitate for a second before rushing into the office.

You stop dead, a small cry escaping your lips as you watch Lloyd wrestling Ransom to the ground.

“You may be sorry you disturbed us, sweetie, but since you’re here, be a good girl and close and lock that door so we don’t get interrupted by anyone else.”

You hesitate, staring in horror at the display before you: books knocked off the shelves, everything that’s usually so immaculately placed askew on the desk, a lamp overturned, Ransom Drysdale on the floor of his office with Lloyd Hansen’s knee pressed into his back and both arms pulled taught behind him while Lloyd binds his wrists together with the Hermes ascot scarf ripped from Ransom’s own neck.

Lloyd clucks his tongue. “Lock the door or I start cutting his fingers off. Barnes and Rogers only said they want your boss alive; they didn’t say how much of him still needs to be intact.”

“Do it,” Ransom grunts, turning his head away from you, clearly embarrassed at his predicament.

You turn and slowly close the door. You know there are still people working at Blood Like Wine tonight, and while it’s not likely that any of them will be passing through this wing after normal business hours, it’s probably safer that they stay out than accidentally stumble into whatever this dangerous mess is evolving into. You wished you had suppressed your own urge to investigate.

When you turn back around, Lloyd is unbuckling his belt as he continues to kneel against Ransoms back. He pulls it out, uses it to gag Ransom, giving it an additional tug after already pulling it tightly, and fastens it off.

“There, that’s just about perfect.”

“What are-?” You venture to ask, but he abruptly cuts you off.

“No one asked you to talk, sweetie, now come away from that door.”

You only take two reluctant steps towards them when there’s a scraping of wood that draws everyone’s attention to the opposite side of the room.

A piece of the floor is slowly being lifted from below, pushed out of the way, and then another man pops up from out of the floor. He hefts himself out of the hole in the floor and then drops a duffel bag on the floor, the heavy sound of muffled metal hinting at the equipment he’s brought with him.

“Oh, good, you’ve already done some of my work for me,” the tall, dark-haired man appraises the situation he’s just stepped into.

“Who the fuck are you, and where’d you come from?”

“Clearly you watched me ascend from a trapdoor in the floor.” He stalks over to stand in front of the large mahogany desk and sits back on the edge. “You didn’t think Harlan Thrombey - noted mystery author - wouldn’t have a publishing house full of trapdoors and secret passageways?”

“Didn’t need to, walked right in the front door. Still waiting to find out who you are.”

“God the Bounty Hunter.”

“Ooh,” Lloyd cocks his head, and another one of his smirks returns, “I can’t say I hate the audacity. Very bold. But there are a lot of gods and only one Lloyd Hansen.

“Now we’re clearly both here because of the hit put out for this prick, but since there are two of them and two of us, why don’t you make yourself useful, God, and tie up this little Margaret while I get Ransom nice and comfortable here.”

“With pleasure,” God says, and beckons you over to him.

The way he fixes you with his gaze is so intense you can’t to resist his silent command. He stands when you’re just a foot or two away, puts a ringer under your chin to tilt your head up, and looks down into your face. You don’t dare look away, nor do you want to, for some reason.

After another moment, he lets your chin drop, and God begins to circle you, looking you up and down. You hold very still. “You don’t need to be tied up, do you? You like to behave, to be praised.”

Lloyd lets out a loud, longsuffering sigh. “Fine, it can be more fun when they’re tied up, but I’m not picky as long as I get what I want.” Then his tone changes, directing his next words at you. “Understand, sweetie?”

You nod.

“Good.” With that, Lloyd pushes his knee roughly into Ransom’s back, drawing a painful groan from the bound man, before standing and hauling Ransom up with him. He shoves Ransom down to sit on the couch that faces the desk in the small entertaining area of Ransom’s office. “Now Relax, let me pour myself a drink. No reason we can’t enjoy ourselves for a few minutes, for old time’s sake.”

While Lloyd pours some bourbon, God steps right up behind you, close enough that you can feel the heat of him. He moves your hair off your shoulder, and leans close to whisper in your ear, “You be very good, and I’ll make you my angel.” You can’t help but shiver - it’s the heat of his breath at your neck and the promised threat - and you know he notices your reaction, because there’s a soft, dark chuckle before he presses a hot kiss to the base of your neck. His hand comes around to your front, toying with the edge of your open collar, and then he lightly draws his index finger along your clavicle and then up the other side of your neck. You don’t realize you’re holding your breath until you gasp when his other hand quickly pushes a small piece of metal right below your ear.

“And what’s that?” Lloyd asks, not missing the tagging.

“A little incentive for obedience,” God answers. “Fifty-thousand volts when fully unleashed.”

There’s a non-electrically generated jolt in your stomach, but it’s not pure fear, it’s tinged with a little adrenaline as well.

“Huh. To each his own. Now down to business, Ran.”

God steps back and then leans on the edge of the desk again. He pulls you to stand between his legs, your back up against his chest, and his hands settle on your shoulders. Standing against him like this has your hips aligned with his, and you have no doubt it’s setting the stage for his intentions, even if it seems harmless enough now. It mimics a familiarity between partners that is both soothing and unsettling.

Across the room, Lloyd takes a seat on the other side of the couch from Ransom, drink in one hand, and draping his arm casually along the back of the couch. “It was quite a convenient circumstance that even had me nearby to make this social call Ransom. Couldn’t be happier that I’d get to drop in on you for something like this. Ransom and I both went to Yale, you know,” he tosses this part across the room to you and God. “Even ended up in the same fraternity. But he was a senior, I was a freshman. Didn’t spare me the time of day except for the hazing, right?”

His focus shifts back to Ransom, who only gives Lloyd a cold stare, unmoving, clearly not wanting to give Lloyd the satisfaction of any emotional reactions.

God’s hands shift from your shoulders and begin to stroke up and down your arms.

“Why am I boring us all with the backstory though? Old college buddies is pretty typical. You know what’s not typical? Barnes and Rogers putting a bounty out for someone. They’ve got their own guys, and you’re not hard to find.”

The hands move from your arms to your waist, moving up and down your ribs, and still Lloyd keeps talking.

“So, either you’re too important and they wanted the closest person available to pick you up and make a rush delivery to their door, or you’re not important enough for them to want to dispatch any of their own men to deal with you. Outsourcing because you’re still an inconvenience to them, and they can’t let you go unpunished.

Strong hands on your hips.

“Maybe you can prove to be useful tonight, sweetie. How long have you worked for Ranny here?”

You don’t know if you should be surprised that he’s turned his attention to you for questioning, but you do your best to keep your mind focused as you answer him. “I’ve worked for Mr. Drysdale for – oh –” God starts rubbing circles over your hipbones, applying more pressure and pushing you back against a very prominent erection “– a little over seven months.”

“Mr. Drysdale, eh?” Lloyd’s perennial smirk grows, and he tilts his head, tsking again. “You don’t have to pretend like you’re not assisting him after hours, I told you we were in the same frat, so I know what this bastard gets up to.”

Your mouth drops open a little, and Lloyd looks from you to Ransom, whose cold stare has turned into an unmistakable glare.

“Oho! So, she does only assist you professionally?” Lloyd laughs, seemingly out of genuine amusement. “You really are useless, Ranny.”

God is still relentless in touching you, exploring over and even under the clothing, one of his hands sliding down your leg to slip under your skirt to skim up your thigh, and the other stroking just under your breasts, calculated touches to evoke responses but not yet to take or give any more satisfaction.

Both strangers are demanding your attention, and you’re almost evenly divided between Lloyd’s words and God’s actions.

“She probably would’ve slept with you the first two weeks on the job, but now she’s gotta know you’re an insufferable prick.”

Would you have? You don’t think either statement is true. You were never drawn in by Ransom, and since working for him, you’ve only been focused on doing your job well, getting a good paycheck, and going home. Ransom wasn’t particularly demanding compared to other executives, and so you had only wanted him to continue to respect and rely on your assistance so he’d find you indispensable and raise your salary regularly.

God finally speaks again. “We should let the man see what he’ll never have.”

Lloyd sits back in the chair. “I’m not opposed.”

Your face burned. There was no question what he meant, and you did not want Ransom to see you on display, but Lloyd is intimidating and God is intoxicating, so you can do no more than comply as God unzips your skirt and pushes it to the floor.

Next he turns you around and works on the buttons of your shirt, in no hurry, putting your ass on display for Lloyd and Ransom while torturing you with more of the heated, intense eye contact that makes you nearly forget to breathe.

You’re only warned that Lloyd’s behind you when God looks over your shoulder, and you turn your head, but before you can fully face him, his hand has come down against your ass with enough force that you fall against God’s chest. He spanks you again, harder, and you whimper in God’s arms, your head falling against his shoulder with the sting and shock and humiliation.

Then, in another quick turn of events, Lloyd grasps the waistband of your panties with one hand, and you briefly feel the chill of metal against your skin as he slips a knife under the fabric and then slashes them away with two strokes and throws the fabric on the desk.

“Move, God, I want her up on the desk.”

God stands again, and he pulls your shirt off your shoulders as he moves away.

Lloyd could unclasp your bra, but of course Lloyd uses the knife to slice through the band.

“Drop it,” he instructs.

With a deep, steadying breath, you do as he says.

“Turn and sit up on the desk for us.”

You’ve taken hundreds of orders from this office, completing tasks you enjoyed and hated, this can be just another of those.

“Open those thighs for us all to see, sweetie.”

You close your eyes. You know what they will see, and the shame burns in your stomach.

Lloyd taps the flat part of his knife just above your knee. “Now.”

You bite your lip and look at the ground as you spread your legs. Lloyd presses the edge of the knife to the flesh of your inner thigh, forcing you to spread even wider if you don’t want him to cut into you.

Lloyd brings his knife to your chin to tilt your face up to look at him as he traces your wet folds with two fingers. The smirk is gone, replaced by a wicked grin. “Nice and slick for us.”

“God’s handiwork,” the other man is quick to note.

“Sure. A nice little sacrificial offering. Now, Ransom, since you’ve never had a taste, seems a shame not to give you a sample,” Lloyd says.

Ransom shifts and begins to stand, but Lloyd turns abruptly and points at him with the knife. “Stay there, you dumb fuck.”

Ransom sits back again.

“And don’t you dare look away.” He looks to God. “Shoot him if he does.”

God pulls a gun from behind his back that he must have had tucked into his waistband. You watch as he moves to the other side of the room and stands behind Ransom. He plants his gun at the base of Ransom’s skull, then locks eyes with you again. It’s clear he doesn’t want take his eyes off you if he’s going to have to ensure Ransom doesn’t either. Something in your chest stirs under his rapt attention.

Lloyd demands your attention again as he grips your hips and pulls you to the edge of the mahogany desk. He slaps your pussy, drawing a sharp cry from you, then drops down to delve between your thighs. He gives your clit a vicious nip, and you bit back another yelp. His tongue plunders into your cunt, licking and sucking, and your hands are moving to grasp his skull to anchor yourself, but he’s already pulling away. As he stands, he yanks you off the desk, and strides across the room, dragging you with him.

He spits directly in Ransom’s face – a combination of Lloyd’s saliva and your slick that he’s not able to do anything but let drip down his face. Your mouth is agape, truly shocked. Ransom’s entire body radiates rage and embarrassment.

“That’s all you’ll be getting from her, Drysdale.”

Then Lloyd’s shoves you to your knees, putting you on display in profile to the other men. He undoes the zipper of his pants, releasing his cock, no underwear to fuss about.

“Open up,” he demands, and you comply, unwilling to provoke this demon who clearly doesn’t play by any rules.

He slips the angry red tip of his cock into your mouth. “Be good,” he warns. You give a small nod, closing your mouth around him. With one hand, he grips your head and begins to thrust in and out of your mouth. You and gag, and your eyes close as you try to focus very hard on breathing through your nose. He’s hitting the back of your throat with each brutal thrust, and the tears spill quickly down your face.

“Eyes on me,” he grunts, and you force them open and look up at him, knowing what he wants to see. He groans in approval. “You are a pretty little trinket, prettier when you cry.”

Then he abruptly pulls you off his dick and grips you by the chin and turns your head for Ransom and God. “Fucking look at her, swollen lips, gasping for breath, desperate.”

Just as quickly he slots his dick back in your mouth, this time gripping your head with both hands and he fucks your face with abandon. Fast. Hard. Your whimpers turn into sobs, and your hands come up to brace and grasp desperately at his thighs. “You can still take it,” Lloyd growls, undeterred, and you’re powerless to stop him. The tears are not just running but flooding down your cheeks. It’s too much now, and you can’t get enough air, and vision is going black. Finally he throws you off and away from him, and turns to aim his cock at Ransom, shooting his load over his face and shoulders, letting out a hiss that turns into a hum.

You’re hunched over and you wretch – blessedly only once – bracing your hands on the floor, and you gulp and heave, lungs fraught for the necessary oxygen.

Lloyd is talking again. The voice registers, but not the words.

And there are warm hands on you again. One rubbing small circles at the base of your spine, the other pushing your hair out of your face and coaxing you to look up at him.

With enough soothing, God has you breathing evenly again, and you’re still crying a little, but he helps you up onto the couch and sits next to you, very close, and he tucks a hand under your chin and lifts your face up, then he licks your left cheek, then the right, lapping up the tears. You hiccup, not sure how to react. Then he merely strokes your cheek, and the fingers trail down your neck, down your chest, down, down…

“Boring,” Lloyd announces.

You look up at him for a moment, but then God’s questing fingers reach the point he really wants to concentrate his might on, plunging into your wet cunt, and your eyes flutter closed.

“I’m eager to be done here,” Lloyd continues while God continues pumping his digits in and out of you. “We don’t need any more dumbasses showing up for this fool.”

“Agreed,” God says, casually as if he’s not beginning to pull you apart softly but surely. “You take him. I’ll keep her. There’s room for her in the trunk next to the cargo.”

“Fine, I wasn’t fussed about the goods anyway, I only took this job for the satisfaction of humiliating Drysdale, and that’s already exceeded my expectations. I’m sure Barnes and Rogers will give you enough for the recovered inventory even without him, and I’ll do you a solid and not mention the little side piece you’ll be keeping for yourself.”

God moves you off the couch, coaxing you to lean over the coffee table and kneels behind you. “Good.”

You moan as God slowly pushes his hard length inside your cunt.

There’s a thud next to you, and you turn to see a pile of Ransom hit the floor a few feet away.

“I assume you’ve got a way to move this man through down in that passage?” Lloyd asks, dragging the unconscious figure across the floor by his feet.

“Mhmm,” he responds, more intent on the movement of his hips against yours, slowly pistonning in and out of your tight heat.

“Good. This was fun enough, but let’s not do this again.”

God pulls your head up roughly to look at Lloyd just as he’s about to drop into the floor. “Say goodbye to Lloyd, Angel.”

You’re barely able to make the, “Bye,” tumble out of your lips, you’re so full of this man behind you, and his sudden roughness taking you by surprise.

Lloyd chuckles, then disappears.

God lets you drop back down, leaning on your elbows.

“I thought he’d never stop talking,” God murmurs.

It’s bitter, but a laugh actually falls from your lips, but you still can’t form words.

“There’s other things I’d rather do with you around than talk.”

He adjusts his angle from behind you. It allows him to plunge more of his cock into your slick channel, and you groan, but then after only a few thrusts, he pauses, balls deep inside you.

“You took what he gave you, but I think you don’t want me to stop, do you?”

You’re breathless. You can’t speak. You don’t want to speak?

He places his right hand, palm flat, at the base of your spine and presses it slowly up your back, his middle finger trailing up the ridge of your vertebrae, and you can feel the metal of his ring draw a line along your skin.

“You were very good.”

He rocks his hips against you, and you whimper.

“I said I would make you mine if you were good.”

Another rocking. He moves his hand from the nape of your neck around to grip it fully, and he pulls you back up against his chest, and you’re gasping for air for a moment, both hands coming up to clutch at his arm.

He lowers his voice and delivers his next words right into your ear. “You want to be mine, don’t you?”

Your pussy clenches around him, and he presses a kiss against your throat, and you feel the smile of his lips against your skin.

His other hand moves down across your hip, to your vee, and his deft fingers stroke your throbbing clit. He doesn’t move his cock, but he does move those fingers expertly, drawing tight little circles that wind you up to the top until you’re flung off the edge and into pure pleasure.

Coming down from your first orgasm, you sink against him. As your breathing returns to normal, the hand on your neck remains like an anchor, but his other hand moves up to tilt your chin to the side and up to meet his lips. The kiss claims you, and you part your lips for him, just as you’ve parted your legs for him – willingly.

“That was one, but I want a trinity to secure your devotion here tonight. I’m going to fuck you dumb, dress you, and then you’re going to walk out of here like a sweet little angel and get in my car. Then I’ll let you choose. You can sit up front and keep my cock warm or you can crawl in the back of the trunk. Your choice.”

How are we?

I'm ruined.

Restore my health with your lovely reblogs, commentary, comments...

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

I do not do tag lists, but FOLLOW @buckets-and-stories and TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS to be updated any time I publish a new work!

#god the bounty hunter #god the bounty hunter x reader #lloyd hansen x reader #lloyd hansen fanfiction #god the bounty hunter fanfiction #aspen wrote something #tw: noncon #tw: dubcon #dark smut #lloyd hansen smut #god the bounty hunter smut #female reader

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skellymom · 10 months ago

Text

"HUNT AND PECK"

Hunter x Reader Supporting Character Smutty One Shot

(With comedy mixed in)

(Credit for Pinterest photo: mishusheadache)

FIRST IN THE SERIES: "TALES FROM THE EDIBLE"

(Divider credit: @cafekitsune and @4gelic-wh1spers)

BACKGROUND: Hunter converses with his anatomy. We get to be in BOTH heads at once!

WORD COUNT: 1.3K

WARNING: Swearing, references to sexual organs, sexual sounds, reference to the sexual act, mentions of body fluids, angst, sexual pining, dirty humor, wing men, unspoken consent to the sexual act.

Inspired by a post about Hunter typing "Hunt and Peck" style by" @im-no-jedi

Link:

https://www.tumblr.com/skellymom/743260093984997376/this-also-speaks-to-how-none-of-the-batch-have

AND

This silly movie scene from the 1980's flick "Real Genius"

youtube

The Batch finished up their latest mission, picking up a new passenger along the way. Y/N was a Force sensitive hitching a ride to a planet they would be passing on the way to Kamino. She would only be with them a few standard days on the Marauder, and the crew made sure she had a comfortable stay.

Within two days Hunter was smitten. He usually kept himself from developing any attachments to nat borns. But...well, this one was different...and difficult to ignore. Of course, he still engaged with her politely. Being a Sergeant and host on this transport, he kept some distance.

Y/N was attractive. Not conventionally, as he wouldn’t consider himself attracted to just ANY pretty face. But she had that...thing. An essence? Something that just took him out at the knees. It was elusive...

...and she smelled SO GOOD. Hell, even when she was sweaty, dirty, just woke up in the morning...heady scent of her body odor with the slightest tang of her sex...

Hunter shifted in the pilot’s seat. His armor codpiece felt tight. Dammit, he NEEDED to stop getting distracted. He was supposed to be sitting watch on the ship.

Technically Echo was to stand this shift. However, he was under the weather and now lying down like the rest of his brothers.

Hunter could hear Crosshair breathing, Echo’s ticking mechanical heart, and smell Tech’s drool...as he slept face down with mouth open. Wreckers' snores were like a power tool, until his sleep apnea kicked in. Hunter would count the seconds unconsciously holding his own breath too...until Wrecker finally inhaled.

Hunter inhaled deeply just thinking about it...

...until Y/N sighed in her sleep. The sound brought his attention back to the heat and tightness in his groin.

Cut it out Peck! Hunter internally warned his cock.

Yes, Hunter nicknamed his pecker. And he admitted it to NO ONE! Although, he came close one time when Echo confidentially revealed to Hunter that he named his scomp.

Oh Broody...you’re such a tight ass PRUDE!

Hunter shot up from the chair looking around the cockpit. He SWORE he heard a whisper so close...unsure if it was outside or INSIDE HIS HEAD!!!

KRIFF, I’m hearing things. Although, it was his THIRD consecutive day of chronic insomnia. Was he hallucinating?

Listening again, Hunter could perceive everyone was asleep and accounted for. He sat back down.

Broody...it’s me! Peck!!! In a strangely soft but high-pitched voice.

Then the voice started clucking.

Hunter spun around in the chair. He felt for CERTAIN there were NO CHICKENS on the Marauder. Shit...he REALLY needed to start taking that nasty tasting sleep medication Tech concocted.

Finally lost my mind...was bound to eventually happen. Lack of sleep, having to look after his bonehead brothers, save Echo, and... sitting here alone in the starlit darkness. Running his hand down his face and resigned himself to having an internal discussion with his own cock. What would it hurt? Besides everyone was asleep. Let’s just go with it and see...

Peck? Hunter called out with his mind.

Yeah Broody?

I’m NOT a prude. Just polite.

Y/N is a grown ass woman, Hunter. You CAN talk to her.

What would I say?

She needs MORE than those furtive glances and puppy dog eyes. Show her the WOLF you are, Hunter.

She’s our guest NOT a sex object!

Oh...so she’s NEVER had an impure thought about YOU?

A very feminine moan and a sigh wafted from the pallet Y/N was sleeping on the bunk room floor. She must have been having a hell of a dream...as Hunter could smell her wet arousal.

Hunter’s cock was now becoming painful with an intense pressure against his codpiece.

Clucking...C’mon ole boy. Would you deny yourself the opportunity of a grown woman’s consent?

You DON’T KNOW if she even thinks about me THAT WAY!

Oh YES I DO!

Hunter ripped the codpiece off and threw it behind him. His girthy engorged cock staining through his blacks...and leaving a wet spot.

Ohh...THANK FORCE you let me out! Suffocating in there!!! Clucking...

SHUT UP! Hunter pushed his pecker down between his legs, then crossed them tightly.

Mmhmm, hmm, mhm mmm... Muffled speech. Clucking intensified.

DANK FERRICK! She did look at him a lot and smiled. He could sense her body reacting to him MUCH differently than his brothers. The thrumming of her presence on his senses. Something he guessed was her Force sensitivity. It would tickle his nerve endings and make him shiver...in a VERY good way. Was Y/N flirting with the Force? Hunter wasn’t exactly sure.

But he didn’t want to take advantage and come off as a creep.

Hunter was so caught up in his head he barely registered a rustling...

...and swung the chair around to face...

...Y/N standing there, blanket wrapped around her shoulders, eyes hooded in desire.

Hunter sprang up out of the chair and his cock sprang up from between his legs. His expression was of dumb embarrassment due to all the blood rushing away from his brain.

Her gaze lingered on his cock. Then she stared him straight in the eyes...

...and dropped her blanket. She was buck naked.

Hunter’s jaw dropped. Y/N giggled seductively, strolled over to Hunter and pressed everything she had up against him.

He almost died of heart failure but managed to gently slide both hands up her back in a tender caress.

“Are you sure???”

“Yes, Hunter...PLEASE EAT me and FUCK me!” With that she grabbed two handfuls of his luxurious hair and devoured his mouth.

Hunter, ever the gentleman who could follow directions to the letter, obliged her.

“Permission to FINALLY stop drooling upon the sheets? Feel like I’m still on Kamino...” Tech whispered.

Quiet moaning from the cockpit area.

Echo whispered back on the comm channel “Everyone, the coast is clear. Target engaged.”

Everyone received the order via earpiece. They could now relax and drop the ruse of being asleep.

Tech sighed, “Now I can FINALLY get in the refresher. He was spending an abnormal amount of time in there lately...”

“Look who's talking, Mr Clean. Wrecker piped up. “Shiniest dick in the galaxy.”

“At least Hunter cleans the cum off the shower walls.” Tech shot Wrecker a baleful stare

“Ey, can’t help I got a big dick.” Wrecker smiled like a shithead, nodding at Tech’s crotch. “Can’t help making a BIG splash...and miss some at times.”

“ARE YOU IMPLYING MY REPRODUCTIVE ORGAN IS LESS THAN SUFFICIENT SIZE???”

Echo interrupted on comm, “Will the two of you QUIET THE FUCK DOWN! Our target will disengage...and Y/N will not acquire the asset!”

Wrecker giggled, “Oh, she’s definitely acquiring that ASS-ET!” Getting louder again.

Echo and Tech shushed him again.

Clucking continued over the coms...

Echo slid to the edge of his bunk and looked up. Crosshair lay on the top bunk, pillow pressed savagely over his face. He was shaking and clucking like a deranged farm fowl.

“If I had known you’d carry on so much, would have been the voice myself. Plus, you SERIOUSLY veered off script!” Echo sneered. Wondering if he was the only one on this ship, save their guest, to have at least one brain cell.

His musing was interrupted by much louder moans, sexual swears, and the wet slapping of flesh.

“Engage ear protection. Sound cancelling level 10. NO eavesdropping, men. We may be feral and efficient commandos, but we STILL have some semblance of morals!”

The clucking turned to coughing. “That’s what YOU think!” Crosshair finally got a hold of himself.

Echo rolled his eyes and threw the covers over his head. Thankfully N/A being Force sensitive was able to help them by dampening their ambient noise to Hunter's senses and...

...OH!

Echo’s eyes popped open realizing...she ALSO had to give CROSSHAIR access to the mental conversation in Hunter’s head to be as effective a voice as possible!

And... Crosshair laughed all through it like a fucking MANIAC!

Echo sighed. That boy ain’t right....

PLEASE like, comment, and/or REBLOG!

IF YOU WISH TO BE ADDED OR DROPPED FROM MY TAG LIST, PLEASE MESSAGE ME! Don't just comment as I might miss it. Thanks!!! <3

*Bone-us content: This vintage tune from my young adulthood (1990's) popped into my head...and thought I'd share. Hunter diggin' that bad girl and how she smelled.

youtube

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worstcharacterpoll · 2 years ago

Text

Thanks for playing! Here's the summary (long post incoming)

[Image description: A 32-entry tournament bracket in black and red titled "Tumblr's most hated." It is a visual representation of the summary described below. Notably, Ross as the "winner" is wearing a Burger King paper crown, and Walter White and Mort as revival contestants have steel chairs edited in next to them. End ID]

First round summary with bracket links (see the individual posts for vote counts, percentages, and comments):

Vriska Serket (Homestuck) vs. Pearl (Steven Universe); Vriska won

Rex (Victorious) vs. Rick Sanchez (Rick and Morty); Rick won

Ansem the Wise (Kingdom Hearts) vs. Gul Dukat (Star Trek: Deep Space Nine); Ansem TW won

Kylo Ren (Star Wars) vs. Kokichi Ouma (Danganronpa); Kylo won

Scrappy Doo (Scooby-Doo) vs. Sheldon Cooper (The Big Bang Theory); Sheldon won

Pierre (Stardew Valley) vs. Mort (Madagascar); Pierre won

Seraphine (League of Legends) vs. Heimskr (Skyrim); Heimskr won

Jurgen Leitner (The Magnus Archives) vs. Andre Glacier (Miraculous Ladybug); Andre won

Walter White (Breaking Bad) vs. Light Yagami (Death Note); Light won

Buck Cluck (Chicken Little) vs. Ross Geller (Friends); Ross won

Bramblestar (Warriors) vs. Starlight Glimmer (My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic); Bramblestar won

Goro Akechi (Persona 5) vs. Pariston Hill (Hunter x Hunter); Pariston won

Katsuki Bakugo (My Hero Academia) vs. Berdly (Deltarune); Katsuki won

Angel Dust (Hazbin Hotel) vs. The Impostor (Among Us); Angel won

Olaf (Frozen) vs. Hooty (The Owl House); Olaf won

Zenos viator Galvus (Final Fantasy XIV) vs. Tony Stark (Marvel Cinematic Universe); Tony won

In the second round, I brought back Walter and Mort because they lost by slim margins in the first round. Here's the summary:

Vriska Serket (Homestuck) vs. Rick Sanchez (Rick and Morty); Rick won

Ansem the Wise (Kingdom Hearts) vs. Kylo Ren (Star Wars); Kylo won

Sheldon Cooper (The Big Bang Theory) vs. Pierre (Stardew Valley); Sheldon won

Heimskr (Skyrim) vs. Andre Glacier (Miraculous Ladybug) vs. Walter White (Breaking Bad); Andre won

Light Yagami (Death Note) vs. Ross Geller (Friends); Ross won

Bramblestar (Warriors) vs. Pariston Hill (Hunter x Hunter) vs. Mort (Madagascar); Mort won

Katsuki Bakugo (My Hero Academia) vs. Angel Dust (Hazbin Hotel); Angel won

Olaf (Frozen) vs. Tony Stark (Marvel Cinematic Universe); Tony won

Round 3 was when I got marked as spam and shadowbanned (I know it wasn't actually a "shadowban," but that's the term) so there were less votes overall in this round. But I don't think redoing the round would have altered the results, and they still got over 1k votes each.

Rick Sanchez (Rick and Morty) vs. Kylo Ren (Star Wars); Kylo won

Sheldon Cooper (The Big Bang Theory) vs. Andre Glacier (Miraculous Ladybug); Sheldon won

Ross Geller (Friends) vs. Mort (Madagascar); Ross won

Angel Dust (Hazbin Hotel) vs. Tony Stark (Marvel Cinematic Universe); Tony won

In the semifinals we were down to four live-action white dudes which I find kind of sums up what kind of character people on tumblr hate on its own. These were a week long because I was still shadowbanned but I think I got my blog restored partway through this round.

Kylo Ren (Star Wars) vs. Sheldon Cooper (The Big Bang Theory); Sheldon won

Ross Geller (Friends) vs. Tony Stark (Marvel Cinematic Universe); Ross won

And then there were two, and I did my best to create art for the finals so please check it out in the link.

Sheldon Cooper (The Big Bang Theory) vs. Ross Geller (Friends)

Ross won. It wasn't even that close. So as promised, he was publicly executed. In Skyrim. Because what else would it be.

Personally I never watched Friends so Ross sweeping was not what I expected lol. There were some characters I put on opposite ends of the bracket because I thought the finals would be Vriska vs. Bakugo or Kylo vs. Tony or something like that. But it turns out people really hate annoying sitcom dudes, at least from the sample size that voted in this poll.

I'm doing another tournament soon and I'm currently taking nominations so please check out @youngersiblingstournament if you're interested :) thanks for playing!

#worst character poll

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thiniceofeternalyouth · 1 year ago

Text

MISLEADIN' ME SERIES: CHAPTER FIVE

SHADOW BEHOLDER

⊳ Gojo Satoru x f!reader

series masterlist

Genre: angst, fluff, sci-fi, cosmology.

Chapter warning&tags : ooc, mentions of human trafficking, mentions of drugs, profanity, mentions of alcohol and smoking, slight yandere themes (if you squint);

Words count: ~10.5k

⊲ previous next ⊳

[July 3, 2019; 07:02pm; hunter's headquarters]

Cumulus torn clouds floated breezily ahead framing the overcast sunset in the distance, and something dark stretched out on the horizon; it was unclear whether it was the peaks of the sunset-shadowed mountains, or a dark long cloud. The breaking sunlight colored the damp haze rising from the sea orange, and the sight of it made her eyes ripple. Or maybe it was the wine.

Rachel walked drunkenly down from the rock outcropping toward the cliff holding a bottle of wine in each hand high above her head. Her feet tripped over every little rock or tiny notch, but she'd rather smash her face than the bottles of red semi-dry.

Sitting on the sunbaked grass, Shoko looked at her sympathetically. She took another drag and let the tart smoke of the cigarette billow out of her lungs to freedom. "Alcoholic."

Rachel clumsily plopped down next to her and placed the bottles on the ground as neatly as possible. "Hey, ya actually drank more than me."

"Unlike someone, I know how to drink," Shoko put out her cigarette on the ground and threw the butt into the fire pit. "Did you bring a corkscrew?"

Rachel leaned on her arm squeezing her flushed cheek and drunkenly clucked her tongue. "Shit."

"Let's do old school then," Shoko said handing Rachel a bunch of keys.

Rachel took the keys accompanying the action with a respectful oblique nod. "As ya say, my queen," She began picking at the sawdust cork with the key edge trying to push it inward. Once Rachel had the point about halfway into the cork, she covered the key with her palms and applied force to push it in, and at that moment, a red liquid enveloped her hands and face.

"Elegant," Shoko said rolling her eyes irritably.

"But it worked," Rachel chirped wiping the wine from her face with her sleeve. "Gimme your glass."

Rachel poured the alcohol into wineglasses and leaned against a ribbed rock gazing out at the burning sun. The sound of the wind-disturbed forest could be heard behind them, and the waves crashing against the rocks tried in vain to reach their feet.

Rachel took another sip and turned back to Shoko. "Ya know," Rachel said stretching her words drunkenly. "When I first saw ya, I couldn't even imagine ya being quite the outgoing person."

"Guess I'll have to put your name on my list of people with stereotypical thinking now," Shoko said deftly pulling another cigarette from the pack.

Rachel pouted her lips and gave the most contrite look possible. She realized from Shoko's raised eyebrows that she'd gone a little overboard. "Forget it," she snatched the cigarette out of Ieiri's hands and took a drag.

"Listen," Shoko turned around and looked back at the windows in the cliff. "Are there really so few hunters? I thought it was us who had manpower problem."

Rachel shook her head slightly fearing more dizziness. "Old generation hunters live in Hopetown, and our higher-ups just put the voidrunners away from everyone else. They figure that if the dioreacts planning a large-scale attack, we'll be the first ones to get hit, since we've trespassed on their territory."

Shoko could no longer make out the clear lines on the horizon, the rainy sunset blurring into a gray-orange mess. She set her glass aside and rested her head unashamedly in Rachel's lap staring up at the sky. "Well, the hell is the old generation for?"

"To level up and learn to enter the void, hunters have to put your consciousness through isolation. Not everyone is willing to do that, so they stick to the old ways," Rachel rested her head on the rock gazing upward with Shoko. "I can't even tell ya what exactly is going on in isolation because when maintainer escorted me through, I didn't even realize it. It was like fingers snapped and something changed inside me."

Shoko hummed skeptically. "Not everyone is willing to spend a second of their life to become stronger? So much for nonsense."

"Who knows how much time we actually spend in there? Only maintainer feels time in isolation," Rachel said exhaling heavily.

"And I still don't see it as a big deal."

"Coz ya only see survivors," Rachel said and completely forgetting about the glass reached for the bottle. One must either avoid unpleasant conversations or drunk them down. "Most of hunters who wished to become voidrunners died before they were able to enter the void. Their consciousnesses were lost in isolation. Or they dissolved there, dunno. "

"I see," Shoko said coldly. She was twirling her auburn curl around her finger out of old habit. "Your higher-ups have gotten comfortable. Putting people through isolation and the only ones who managed to survive are shooed away like lepers to take the hit."

Rachel chuckled softly pressing the bottle to her flaming cheeks. "They're not the ones leading us in. The higher-ups don't really like us at all, or maybe they hate the very idea of entering void. Not much difference. They think that doing it this way we only make dioreacts angrier, and endangers the rest of hunters. So they give us more work between raids making us get rid of demons the old-fashioned way. They're mad as hell."

"Then who leads you out?"

"Uh, it’s-" mumbled Rachel stuttering. The cloud on the horizon began to thicken with as much force as the air around the girls. "It's Y/N’s doing."

Shoko immediately stopped playing with a strand of hair. "You mean- you're saying that she-" she stammered trying to find the right words. "I'm sorry if I misunderstood you, but what you're saying is that she k-"

Shoko's face turned red. Not from shame, not from embarrassment, not from anger. It was from spilled wine. The bottle slipped out of the drunken Rachel's hands, and the remnants of the alcohol ended up on Ieiri's face. "God, Shoko! I'm sorry!" Rachel frantically tried to wipe Shoko’s face with her sleeve.

"You're not drinking anymore today," Shoko muttered sullenly, rising from her seat and fighting off Rachel's hands.

"Come on, it looks better on ya," Rachel pointed out slyly. "You look really sexy."

"Shut up."

"Speaking of sexy!" exclaimed Rachel, unable to keep her interest in check. "Do ya date a lot?"

Shoko stared at her in amazement as if she were insane wrinkling her nose slightly at her tactlessness. "And when am I supposed to do that? Between patients and filling out paperwork? And anyway, ever since I contacted the doc, I don't even have those five minutes to spare."

"I refuse to live in a house with so many workaholics," Rachel protested. "Come on, not going out at all? And you don't even, well, um... You don't even relax with anyone?" asked Rachel shamelessly scrutinizing Jeri's discouraged face. "Not even with Gojo? Come on, you've known each other for about fifteen years, there's no way there's nothing going on at all!

"Ew!" squeaked Shoko, and Rachel blurted out a smile pleased that she had finally seen a little more than Shoko's usual cold look. "Just shut up. No, nothing happened. And it won't. It's like sleeping with a relative."

"All right, all right, I believe it," a still radiant Rachel softly stretched out. "By the way, where's that troublemaker?"

"No idea," Shoko said resting her head in Rachel's lap again.

[July 3, 2019; 07:16pm; Tokyo Prefecture, Tokyo, Bakery N]

The small bakery decorated in muted yellow colors was filled with the smells of freshly brewed coffee and ruddy crisp dough. On the wall behind the cash register, there were small boards on which the names of confectionery products, it’s prices, and the day's promotions were handwritten in multicolored chalk. A pretty salesgirl in a funny yellow beret was chatting with the customers advising them and helping them to make a choice. Only the sorcerer squatting in front of the glass display case for baked goods and paying no attention to anyone frowned annoyingly.

No matter how rarely you were home, you always made time for Gojo. You made time to send massage to him and ask if he was all right when he was on a mission. Every time you listened to his endless stream of chatter, and if he did something ridiculous or violated your personal boundaries, he never heard a sigh of annoyance from you. Gojo had never heard you hold a conversation in which he was being bad-mouthed, whether it was in jest or in truth.

With you, he felt as if he was understood. Whether it was because you were in similar positions in life's vicissitudes or something else, he did not know. It didn't seem to matter to him.

After all, you found out and memorized some of his features before you even met him, while he didn't bother to find out what kind of sweets you like for six months.

Indignant at his own neglect he squeezed his cheeks with his hands with vigor continuing to stare at the display case under the oblique glances of the visitors, paying them no attention.

At the end of the dark corridor on the second floor, someone’s lonely silhouette sat on the floor outside one of the rooms.

The door one of the rooms clicked open. As you left Danielle's room, you glanced at his drooping form barely visible at the other end of the hallway. You quietly closed the distance between you and Gojo and sat down across from him as carefully as you could.

Drawing attention to yourself was not part of the plan, but not leaving a man wallowing in reflection in a strange place was a matter of principle.

He was used to stares, but the way you did it seemed too shameless. Your gaze was straightforward and, if only it were not a play of imagination, surprisingly soft.

"What is it?" he grinned softly. "The first time we met you refused to even look my way, and now you can't take your eyes off me. Am I that handsome?"

"Ya know," you squinted your eyes as if evaluating something. "I think you'd still be handsome even if you had your eyes pulled up on your ass."

Gojo bit his tongue and his chest began to convulse. "What-" barely opening his mouth he hissed with a gasping laugh. "What kind of compliment is that?"

"I'm trying!" you blurted out indignantly, looking at the way he hid his face in his palms trying to calm down.

"Yeah, I really appreciate it," he said on an intermittent exhale wiping the corners of his eyes.

"Uh," you began hesitating. "What ya doing sitting here alone at this hour?"

He stretched his legs out casually, but avoided your gaze carefully. "Your beds are too soft. And pillows are rough," he said with an indifferent shrug. "And I can't open a window to air out the room because of loud sound of the waves."

"Got it," you said stretching the words teasingly. "If it's that bad, you can sleep in my workroom. I've got a firm mattress and air conditioning, too. About pillow...," you paused for a second, thinking. "Guess for a princess like ya, I might as well go to the store and get a proper one."

"Hey," Gojo snorted unhappily, gently nudging your thigh with his foot, to which you chuckled softly. He sat there hesitating, unsure how to take your words, but he wanted to believe it was a sincere suggestion and not a simple sneer. "Did you...," he coughed, hearing the hoarseness in his voice. "Did you really mean it?"

"Would I mock a man who sits in the hallway looking like a stray puppy?" getting another poke in the thigh from him, you gave up. "I really meant it. If ya can't sleep in your room, come and sleep in workroom if ya want."

"What about you?"

"We've got a bunch of unoccupied rooms here," you put up your hand gently, pointing down a long hallway. "Still, sometimes I work nights filling out paperwork and all that other bureaucracy, so if you're in the workroom, you'll have to put up with someone's presence and the clacking of keys paired with the squeak of a pen."

"That's how," he mumbled and felt his fingertips burning hot. "Anyway, I like having something... buzzing under my ear. I'll graciously accept your offer, but only if you promise me you won't stare at me much while I sleep."

"Nope," you shook your head stubbornly. "I'm sorry, I can't promise that."

Gojo sat back and tried to suppress a smile, not even thinking about the fact that he might look like an idiot.

At the end of the dark corridor on the second floor, two someone's non-lonely silhouettes sat on the floor outside one of the rooms.

When the salesgirl finished serving another customer, she gave Gojo another confused look. It wasn't often that one met a man so unusual and attractive. "Sir," she addressed him and noticed with fear that her voice had cracked with excitement. She coughed quickly. "Is there anything I can help you with?"

"Huh?" Gojo absentmindedly raised his head. He blinked and stretched out to his full height and walked to the cash register, causing the salesgirl to look embarrassed. "Actually, you can. I'll take the whole thing. Two servings each, please," he said bestowing her with a welcoming smile.

The salesgirl was confused by such an order. "You mean everything at all? Even carrot bread?" she asked in a stammering voice.

"You know, I'll take one carrot bread, though, I guess," he said mentally noting that he definitely wouldn't eat that.

The salesgirl pulled a roll of craft paper from under the counter and placed it on the table, then began wrapping each dessert in it with shaking hands. She thought the man was glaring at her back, but his eyes were actually fixed on his phone. He'd texted you asking if you were home, and waited patiently for a reply.

Gojo was brought out of his detached state of reality by a girl's voice. "Uh, sir. That'll be 39721 yen, sir," the salesgirl mumbled as she placed six stuffed paper bags on the counter in front of him.

"Sure," he pulled his wallet out of his pocket and counted out the bills. Gojo was already grabbing the handles of the bags when the salesgirl, redder than usual, handed him a small piece of paper folded in half. He looked at the girl questioningly. "That's my phone number."

"Oh," he said grinning slightly. "Sorry, but-"

"No, no, it's nothing!" she rambled in a stammering voice, tucking a piece of paper into her pocket. "It would be foolish of me to think you aren't dating someone. Have a good day, sir."

"Till next time," he said over his shoulder already heading for the door.

[July 3, 2019; 07:16pm Kumagaya, Saitama Prefecture, Bar N]

Each step leading up to the underground bar made a rusty creak in your footsteps, and the room itself was more like a warehouse than a public place. Metal round tables stretched along one wall, and a bar counter stood opposite; behind it, shelves of alcoholic beverages illuminated blue gave the bar a dank atmosphere.

A chubby, rosy-cheeked girl whose hair was tied with a pink bandana was vigorously scrubbing the surface of the bar. She deftly lifted vases of nuts and cutlery stands to clean the dirt beneath them.

"Lu!" you called out to her in greeting. As soon as you took a step toward her, the customers looked up at you. It seemed like it wasn't just the blue lighting that made this place cold.

She tucked a rag somewhere down under the counter and waved at you, beckoning you over to the bar. "Hey! Long time no see," she smiled pulling one of the snack vases toward you.

"I've got my hands full," you said sitting down on a high stool and placing the airtight small container you'd been holding the whole time on the bar. "I see ya business is booming. Lots of visitors," you shook your head lightly over your shoulder looking slyly at Lu.

"I work here day and night! Can you imagine how frustrating it would be if it didn't pay off?" she said pouting her lips.

You pulled the vase of snacks closer to you. "It would pay off. It's not the alcohol that draws everyone here, it's ya charisma."

Lu's already rosy cheeks turned crimson, and she waved you off carelessly. "Flattery gets you nowhere."

"It helps me sneak in anywhere," you chirped popping a peanut into your mouth. "Any news?"

Lu looked at you as if you'd took her at gunpoint. "Y/N, you know... the longer we spend in this state," she wrapped her arms around her shoulders squeezing them slightly. "The less we feel for others. It's like we become separate individuals and... You know. Humanizing."

Her behavior made you frown. "Lu, why ya acting like I'm threatening ya?"

"You are a hunter after all," she mumbled quietly to herself.

"And ya're an insider. We're not touching ya. Even if ya don't have any information," you tried to sound as soft as possible, but it came out like you were telling the girl off. "I just have one question. Ya don't know anything about the creature that calls itself Rei?"

The corners of Lu's lips quivered, and she squeezed herself even tighter in the embrace. The air in the bar had gotten so thick, it felt like you could grab a fork from the bar and stab it. Lu's whole look screamed that she didn't want to enter that state.

"Okay, I'm leaving-,"

"Wait!" squeaked Lu causing you to sit back down. "Uh... What does the body he's wearing look like?"

"Well," you stretched the word out furtively peering into your memories. "A man, somewhere in his late thirties. Face perpetually smug. Moronic grin. Black hair, a couple strands of gray. And a hu-u-uge scar across his face."

Lu squeezed her eyes shut as hard as she could. Her fingertips were slowly, as slowly as the sun walks across the sky, crawling in ugly black patterns. Her abruptly opened eyes became blacker than the worst night and began to dart from side to side; Lu herself stood motionless, not even her chest heaved as if someone was forcefully squeezing it.

After a moment, she closed her eyes again and suppressed the demon in her with a sharp intake of breath. She looked up at you and bit her lip in frustration. "I'm sorry, I can't find it. But maybe you can get help from someone else," you threw her a questioning look as she gibbered to herself. "But he's not an insider, so there's a chance he won't want to talk to you.

"Who is he then?"

"Just a dioreact," Lu shrugged. "As far as I know, he's trying to live a normal human life and has nothing directly to do with the kidnappings and murders, but... He's kind of helping demons get in touch with people who, you know... Trade drugs. And people. Maybe that's how he got in touch with Rei."

"Where can I find him?"

"He has his own auto repair shop on the outskirts of Tokyo, in the Edogawa ward," Lu said taking a pen out of her pocket and writing something down on your hand. "He closes at eight at night, so you'd better hurry."

"Thank ya for your cooperation," you chirped covering the written address on your wrist with your sleeve. "And these are for ya," you said sliding the container closer to her.

"You shouldn't have," Lu muttered embarrassedly, hesitating to touch the container.

"Ya don't always have to steal from hospitals," you said looking slyly at Lu. You reached into the container and opened it, pulling out a single bag of blood and stowing it in your backpack. "I hope ya don't mind if I take one with me," the girl nodded silently at your words. Turning around, you were faced with the same cold stares that greeted you here. One of the visitors' eyes were black, and he held a glass to his mouth tapping away nervously at it with his finger. "See ya, guys!" waving goodbye to them, you ran out of the cold bar towards the warm air.

On the outskirts of Tokyo countless tangled wires of transmission lines dangled from poles so low that they gave the impression of an urban spider's web. In one of the narrow streets, dilapidated buildings with unglazed balconies greeted you; on one of these, a man with a cigarette in his teeth was hanging clothes after washing; on another, an elderly woman was shouting to someone at the end of the street that dinner was ready.

The phone vibrating in your pocket distracted you from contemplating the everyday life of local people.

[07:21pm] Gojo Satoru: mochi

[07:21pm] Gojo Satoru: u home?

[07:23pm] You: nope

[07:24pm] Gojo Satoru: where r u?

[07:27pm] You: I'm busy

[07:27pm] Gojo Satoru: I asked where u r, not whatcha doin dummy

[07:31pm] You: got a couple things to do in Edogawa ward

[07:31pm] Gojo Satoru: there's a metro museum in that ward, u know where it is?

[07:32pm] You: yep

[07:32pm] Gojo Satoru: I'll meet u there in an hour

[07:32pm] Gojo Satoru: no, in half an hour

[07:32pm] Gojo Satoru: don't be late

You stared at the phone screen for a while wondering how a person could contain so much impudence. You came to your senses when you heard the echo of someone's booming laughter from the back alley. A group of guys came around the corner talking loudly and gesticulating vigorously. You glanced at them, and your gaze fell inadvertently on the frail little man the young men had passed. The man was pushing the heavy metal gates; they yielded to him with a heavy, long creak. He finally closed them and wiped something off his forehead with his dirty sleeve; you were already standing near him.

"Closing already?" you asked glancing at his hand, which was desperately trying to find something in his pocket. "It's not eight at night yet."

"I apologize," he smiled nervously, greeting you with a quick bow. "Family emergency."

"I see," you said nodding your head understandingly. "Too bad, my car's been needing an emergency inspection for months now."

The man finally pulled a key out of his pocket and awkwardly tried to get it into the keyhole. "A car? What car?" he hiccupped as if suppressing a hysterical laugh.

You looked around the narrow street and only now realized that there were no cars here, which made you cluck your tongue annoyingly. "Well, that was awkward."

He finally locked the gate and without looking in your direction, he took a quick step away. You followed him. "I just want to ask ya couple questions!"

"Leave me alone!" he shrieked, and despite his feet stumbling over everything he could, he broke into a run. As soon as the man turned into the alley, his eyes widened and he immediately stopped: you were already walking toward him from there. With a desperate shake of his head, he turned around and wanted to run back, but you were in front of him again.

He rushed down the street, and you exhaled tiredly as you watched him.

The man kept running. He ran and looked around frantically. His blurred vision merged the whole landscape: houses, bushes, signs. He wouldn't have stopped if it hadn't been your hand that yanked him sharply by the scruff of his neck into one of the alleys.

Standing behind him, you squeezed his neck with one hand and with the other you pressed the edge of the dagger against his carotid artery. "Just a couple questions," you spoke in a low whisper. "Or I'll send ya to judges," hearing the last word, a ragged sob escaped the man's lips. He nodded, and you immediately let him go.

You waited for him to cough and come to his senses. You pulled a bottle of water out of your backpack and handed it to him, but all you got in return was an incredulous look. "Whatever," you said putting the bottle back away. "Straight to the point. How long has Rei been in contact with you?"

"I didn't- I-" he tried frantically to force the words out. "Last fall."

Was it normal for Rei to stay out of contact with this creature for so long? "Ya sure? Maybe he just changed bodies?"

"I don't know if he changed his body!" the man wailed hysterically. "But I do know he hasn't contacted me all this time!"

"Okay, okay," you said throwing up your hands at the man's sudden outburst. "Ya don't have to yell like that-"

The man slid down the wall holding his head with his hands. "I didn't do anything wrong," his muffled sobs could be heard. "I was just trying to live in this condition."

A skeptical grimace appeared on your face. "Oh, really? Aiding and abetting slave traders and demons out of the goodness of your heart, too?"

The man raised his head and gave you a panicked look. "They threatened me! They threatened to kill my wife and child!" with every word he uttered, your eyebrows crept upward. "Or rather... This body's wife and child. But that doesn't change anything," struggling to utter the last words, he wrapped his arms around his head again.

"What am I hearing? Have human feelings been nurtured?"

The man's shoulders shook. He tried to wrap his arms around himself as if trying to maintain control. He raised his head again. "You don't understand how much we can feel!" he bellowed in your direction. "We didn't choose all this! We're being merged with bodies not of our choosing! But we want to live too. Even if it's just... like this."

"So that's what this is all about," you hissed looking him in the eye. The man sitting on the pavement already looked tiny, but something made him shrink into a lump. "I was wondering, since ya care so much about your wife and child, why ya didn't just surrender to the judges right away," you covered your eyes and tried to regain your breath. When you opened them, you gave the man another dark stare. "Ya know, there's absolutely nothing wrong with wanting to live. Just don't ya dare cover your selfish ass with good intentions," you reached into your backpack again, and rifling through it for a bag of blood, threw it at the man's feet. "Thank ya for your cooperation," after throwing out the words through your clenched teeth, you disappeared around the corner.

All that was left was to get to the Tokyo Metro Museum.

It was quiet here in the square. The museum staff had long since gone home, having turned out the lights throughout the building. You stood in front of the glass doors trying to see either the dark room or your own reflection.

He was late. You were standing in the square at the main entrance of the building right under the blue sign shuffling from foot to foot with fatigue, and he was late. No call, no message.

The ground heated by the day's sunlight was already starting to cool down, which made you shiver a little and finally pull your phone out of your pocket to dial his number.

"Still looking for me?"

The sound of the voice came from nowhere, but it was everywhere. You pulled your head away from the screen of the phone to look at the reflection of the glass doors. There was no one behind you.

"Don't turn around," you thought to yourself. "Just don't turn around."

"Pet."

If the feeling of rage was something tangible, it would definitely be a liquid. A liquid that you squeezed and put into a steel box, but that voice just drove a thousand sharp nails into that box like a hammer, forcing the liquid out.

You turned around.

You turned around and bumped your forehead against the concrete wall. Your side vision caught the flicker of a dim light bulb, which made a clicking tinkling sound. "I guess I fucked up," you exhaled disappointedly and turned around, thus creating a shuffling sound. The light bulb went out and all that was left in your ears was the ringing from the silence that came. There was an positive side to the darkness: the walls which seemed about to crush you were not so visible.

You stood like that for another minute letting your eyes adjust to the darkness. The long corridor with wall openings at various distances screamed that you were in a maze.

"Relocate."

You remained standing still. "Sure," you thought to yourself rolling your eyes irritably.

[July 3, 2019; 08:06pm; hunter's headquarters]

Music played softly in Megumi's room. The sound of the melody was occasionally interrupted by the sound of the pages of the book Danielle was reading on the bed. Megumi was sitting on the floor beside her looking at something on his phone screen.

Danielle had to reread the paragraphs over and over again because she couldn't concentrate on the text because of her poorly concealed excitement. She threw another fleeting glance at the boy and jerked her foot awkwardly, causing her to stiffen. He hadn't noticed, had he?

Megumi locked the screen of his phone and set it aside. "Dany?"

"What?" she squeaked, her voice hoarse with trepidation. She put her hand to her mouth in horror and pretended to cough.

"You okay?" the boy inquired leaning his head back on the bed and examining her.

"Y-yes," Danielle mumbled awkwardly tucking a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. "The air in the room is just dry. I should at least get a humidifier. So what did ya want?"

"How much longer do you think the hunters will let us live here?"

The girl rounded her eyes. "Why on earth would ya even have such thoughts? No one is chasing you out of here."

"Dunno. I wouldn't wanna overstay my welcome."

"I think you're the only one who thinks that," Danielle said with a giggle.

It seemed to Megumi that they had really stayed here for a long time. On the other hand, all he could think about was how much he wanted to stay here at least a little longer. That's how his thoughts darted from one to the other creating confusing coils. "Aren't you, uh, going to get in trouble with the higher-ups for this?" he asked nervously rubbing the edge of his t-shirt.

"They don't seem to have shown up yet. I think even if there is a problem with them, the elders will handle it," the girl assured him.

Megumi nodded briefly, but that wasn't all he was interested in. He nervously held onto his index finger, which had blackened for the tenth time in the last six months. "Dany, listen. What's your technique?"

"Technique?" she asked absentmindedly dimming her gaze. "We honestly don't have such concepts."

"I meant abilities," Megumi explained as carefully as possible, feeling the tension building up in the room.

"Ah!" exclaimed Danielle in relief. "I don't have a pronounced ability yet, Y/N haven't put me through the insolation yet," she eyed Megumi's frowning face with an edge of her eye. "It's to increase the body's conductivity for dark energy. Growing a new sense organ or something like that."

Megumi only squeezed his index finger harder. "What abilities are there anyway?"

"Actually, there are quite a few. Some are mandatory, and others you only learn if ya feel ya can handle it. Well, also each ability can either be specifically targeted or diffuse."

"And then what are the mandatory ones?"

"Relocate and regeneration," Danielle said as if she were reading a textbook. "Relocate not only allows you to teleport from point to point, but also to enter the void."

"And the others?"

"There really are a lot of them, I can't list-"

Megumi couldn't keep himself quiet. "At least tell me about the ones you know about."

"Well... let's say our Doc. Though regeneration is mandatory, he has it at a level that no one else can reach. And that's despite the fact that he's never been through isolation and has been high conductive since birth. Also with his replication ability, he can replicate anything, even configurations of atoms. So with severed limbs we run straight to him," the girl tried to joke, but the awkwardness created in the room seemed like it could be gobbled up with a spoon. "Uh... Well, or Rachel. One of her powers is tranquility. She can stop whatever processes are going on. From photosynthesis to uranium decay. Also, when she makes tranquility diffused around an area, it gives the impression that time has stopped there!"

The girl finally saw a fleeting smirk on his face. "You know, that sounds cool. Is there anything else?"

"It's actually really cool because the use of each ability is limited only by your imagination, so spin it however ya want," Danielle mumbled softly, trying not to hesitating over her words. His fleeting smile stood before her eyes. "Y/N uses shading. You know, she can use dark energy to make photons absorbed and reflected from her body transform into shadow ones. Kinda invisibility."

"We rarely see her anyway," Megumi said exhaling noisily. "And all of you- uh, you can't catch curse energy at all?"

"Nope," Danielle said having long since forgotten about the book lying right in front of her nose. "But honestly, ya could show it to me."

His cheeks turned slightly pink. "How?"

Danielle's second burst of courage ended as soon as she wanted to enact what she'd planned. "Uh, ya know," she said in a stammering voice and slid off the bed trying to hide her trembling knees. She sat down across from him. "Would ya mind folding your palms like this?" she interlocked her palms, leaving a space between them. He obediently closed his hands and didn't dare to raise his gaze to her.

She glanced at his hands, a concerned exhale escaping her chest. "Megumi, what's wrong with your finger-"

"It's fine. Doc said it's just a side effect of the treatment. It'll pass soon," he lied without blinking an eye. A quick change of subject was necessary. "So what did you wanna show me?"

"I-I'm honestly not sure it's going to work out well, I'm still just a student after all," Danielle muttered excitedly. "You can release a steady little stream of cursed energy, right?"

"Sure," he tried to nod his head, but from the side it might have looked like he was having a muscle spasm.

"Okay, then on the count of three do it," she covered his hands with hers. "One," he felt her warm skin. "Two," he closed his eyes because he didn't want to embarrass her by looking at her. Didn't want to embarrass himself even more. "Three," he wished there was a window open in this room because the waves would muffle his hitched breath.

They released energy at the same time.

Whether only a minute had passed, or whether time didn't exist at that moment at all. He wanted to touch her a little longer, but her voice made him open his eyes. "Ready?"

"Ready," he said on a quiet exhale.

She slowly spread their palms apart. There was a butterfly. It was barely visible, one wing slightly larger than the other, but it seemed beautiful to Danielle. "It worked!" she squeaked quietly, pleased with the result. With a flap of its absurd wings, the butterfly rose into the air and flew toward the window.

"Where is it going?" asked Megumi absentmindedly.

Danielle chuckled. "Ya didn't think she'd stay with ya forever, did ya?" She admired the butterfly that perched on the window. He admired her profile. Admired it so long that he surprised himself when the fingers of his hand gently touched her cheek.

Danielle turned toward him. She looked scared and confused, but he couldn't find the strength to took off his hand from her cheek. "Dany," he whispered softly. "Can I ki-"

They were pulled away from each other by the sharp sound of the door swinging open. "Guys!" exclaimed Itadori. "Doesn't anyone wanna go to movies?"

"GET OUT OF MY ROOM!" shouted Megumi disappointedly. He jumped to his feet and started shoving Yuuji out the door.

"Hey, this is actually my room too!"

Your eyes had finally gotten used to the darkness allowing you to move around without any problems. Pros: there was a light source coming in from somewhere outside and reflecting off the surfaces. Cons: it was not a pleasant environment.

Every time you looked away from the concrete walls, the straight construction joints seemed like curved ugly grins. You were followed by the echo of a shrieking noise that sounded like the singing of cracking ice somewhere in the middle of the Arctic. You kept moving forward not letting the sound catch up with you.

Upon reaching a dead end, you turned right.

The noise kept up. It seemed more and more insistent and faster. You quickened your step, and it began to sound louder, closer. You furtively glanced at the walls making the ugly smiles you'd imagined disappear.

It's a dead end again. You returned to the opening and turned right.

There was the distant sound of the wind rushing in panic in the blizzard. A loud long rumble followed another crackle.

One thing that reassured you was that you didn't hear footsteps in front of you or behind you. Though that couldn't stop you from glancing behind you from time to time.

When you reached the fork, you turned right.

Something warm felt on your earlobes. Warm and viscous. You touched your ear, and when you looked at your fingers, you saw something dark on it.

Your gaze went back to the road.

There was someone coming at you. It was walking slowly, barely moving his feet. You absentmindedly tried to stare, straining and squinting your eyes. A long curly lock of hair fell over the silhouette's face. It came closer and closer, and a blank, open gaze was directed at you (or through you).

It wasn't Rachel.

You backed away, turned and rush away from there. As you glanced behind you, you had the creepy realization that it hadn't made any attempt to catch up with you; it was still following you, slowly but surely.

This behavior is inherent in a creature that already knows where you're going to be wherever you're going.

You found yourself in another corridor. The only thing left to do was not to rack your brains and always turn to the right, trying not to listen to the next crackle of ice.

The surroundings didn't change even after a hundred turns and seven blisters on your feet. Another dead end on the horizon made the growing lump of irritation inside you burst out with a jagged exhalation. You turned around to walk back to the missed opening, but just as you were one step away from your goal, a tall figure stepped out from behind the corner, forcing you to retreat a few steps. White hair was visible in a glow even in the darkness.

You were already walking in the other direction when a voice called your name. The familiar cracking and howling sound stopped, replaced by silence. The abrupt transition from one to the other was as painful as simply having the first. You grabbed your aching ear and clenched your teeth.

Gojo's hand gently touched your shoulder, and you were finally relieved. "Are ya real or what?"

A sly grin appeared on his face. "What is it? You see me so often in your dreams that you can't tell the difference?" he murmured softly, leaning closer to your face.

You paid attention to his provocation. Something else was more important to you right now. "Ya alright?" your concerned voice made him stiffed and leave no shadow of his previous smirk. "No one touched you? You didn't see anyone?"

"Uh... no?" Gojo mumbled incomprehensibly, puzzled by either your questions or your anxiety. "Should I?"

"Look," you nodded pointing somewhere behind his back. Out of the darkness, step by step, came the outline of a man in a familiar black uniform, and dark strands of hair falling over empty open eyes.

He swallowed. "It's not Megumi, is it?"

You shook your head. "Nope," and with that, you took his hand on automatic heading in the other direction away from the creature. "How did ya even get here?" Gojo didn't even hear your question, all but staring at your interlocked hands. "Hey," you snapped your fingers right in front of his face.

He perked up. "What did you say?"

"I asked you how ya got here."

"I was approaching the museum, and then I heard someone's voice. It seemed weird, like it was coming out of my head. I just turned around, and I bumped into a concrete wall...I think?" Gojo rambled on trying to line up the memories in his head in a coherent row.

You continued to wiggle between the openings. "Well, we are two idiots," you chirped summarizing.

"This is not how I wanted to spend this evening," he said with annoyance in his voice pouting his lips.

"Well so did I. When I followed the right hand rule I wanted to find a way out and I found you," you said with a shrug. "Life is full of disappointments. Get used to it."

"Rachel was right, you're just a little bully," his dramatic tone came out overly deliberate again. "And actually, I'm kinda glad we ended up here," Gojo clucked his tongue. You still couldn't get used to his quick change of demeanor. "You finally took my hand. Look," he lifted your clasped hands, and you stared at them in amazement as if you hadn't initiated it. You immediately unclenched your fingers and tried to pull your hand away, but Gojo only gripped your palm tighter with his fingers. "Nope, no way. Get used to it."

"Okay, I give up," you said squeezing his hand again.

Your touch made him forget his teasing remark that you should have done this from day one. There was no way to suppress the excitement. He urgently needed a distraction. "Listen, who are those creatures?" asked Gojo pointing a finger somewhere behind your backs.

"I've never encountered them myself yet, but Frank told me about something similar," you mouthed thoughtfully, looking behind you. "They're kinda like mimics. Just following in your footsteps. I wouldn't really wanna to find out what happens if they get to us."

From the far doorway someone stepped out. A red collar could be seen in the darkness.

"Is there no way to kill them at all?" he asked feeling an unpleasant tingling in the back of his neck.

You threw the dagger that appeared in your hand toward the creature hitting it squarely in the forehead. The mimic vanished in a cloud of smoke. "Does that look like it's fucking dead?" you asked rhetorically, a frown wrinkling the bridge of your nose. "I think it just showed up somewhere and is headed our way again."

"Do we have a tracker hanging on us or something?"

"It's possible. Unlikely ya've ever looked under your skin."

Gojo shuddered. "It won't take long to become paranoid with you."

"Welcome to the club, buddy," you said chuckling merrily. "That's why they're not running after us. There's no point in us hiding anyway, so they're just biding their time until we're exhausted."

"And your sorcery doesn't work here?" Gojo asked taunting you.

"One would think you're still here for some other reason."

He pretended not to hear you as he continued to tease you. "I thought I'd really met someone strong, but sorry. You are weak."

You bit your lip to keep from cracking a smile. "You're right. But take responsibility," your voice softly shifted to a whisper. "I'm weak only for ya."

You were so unfair. So unfair that Gojo swallowed his words and walked beside you silent, occasionally touching his burning cheeks.

For a while, you walked on in hush turning right at dead ends; only your footsteps could be heard. Only yours?

You stopped short a dozen feet before reaching the next turn.

"Something wrong?" he asked worriedly, squeezing your hand lightly.

You drilled your gaze to the right wall. "Do ya hear that too?"

Gojo fell silent. He tried not to breathe. He heard someone's footsteps behind that wall advancing towards the opening. "Mimic?"

"Mimics don't make sounds," you shook your head accompanying the sound of footsteps with your eyes. You perked up and turned around to him peering into his eyes. "Wanna go for a jog?"

***

After a couple of hours, at least some difference was waiting for you around the next corner. Albeit the same concrete and empty, but still spacious room, from which there were only two exits - the one from which you came and on the adjacent wall. Is this what the center looks like in normal mazes?

"You're not even breaking a sweat," came an indignant panting exclamation from behind you. "When you said 'jog', I thought it would be a light jog, not a marathon."

You glanced behind you. Gojo was standing bent over and resting his hands on his knees, breathing heavily. "I think we outrun 'em. Let's take a little break," you said heading to the far corner.

You both sat down on the cold dusty floor. You took off your backpack and started to fish out something from the contents. After a while, you handed him a bottle of water and a chocolate bar. It wasn't much, but it was all you had.

Gojo hesitated shifting his gaze from the provisions to you. "What about you?"

"Don't worry," tired of holding your hand with the groceries, you placed them in his lap. "I've got more. I'm not hungry yet anyway."

Frustrated thoughts of six irretrievably lost bags of baked goods popped into his head. Awkwardly twirling the bottle in his hands, Gojo opened it and took a couple sips draining half of it. "Do you have any thoughts?" he asked opening the chocolate wrapper.

"Well," you began trying to pull your thoughts together. "We're kind of still on Earth. Light gets through here, and it's not easy to create an alternate light source, and we were here in literally seconds, so... We haven't turned to bloody dust yet, so the atmospheric pressure is the same, we're breathing normally, we're not off the ground. So whatever this place is made of, it's limited to Earth settings."

"Sounds soothing, but it's no use," Gojo muttered chewing on a piece of chocolate.

"That's actually pretty good," you tried to reassure yourself. "No idea about elsewhere in the universe, but we don't have measurable continuous quantities here in physics. Everything around us that appears to be continuous is not."

Gojo crumpled up the chocolate wrapper and tossed it somewhere in the darkness. "You definitely have a screw loose."

Again there was the familiar notes of delight in your voice. "Well, not me. More like the creator of quantum theory," while you chattered to yourself, Gojo kept staring at your profile. Staring and unable to find the strength to tear his eyes away. "All that remains is to capture the moment itself. I don't know what it will look like, of course. It's hardly a portal or a breach."

"What is it then?" his voice came out softer, more quietly. Against his will.

You shrugged. "Dunno. Maybe it's something that's out of place. Something foreign. But so far all we've encountered are walls, walls, and more walls." You turned to him and he immediately turned his head away. "Ya can rest for now. There's no telling when another opportunity will present itself. I'll keep an eye out," you looked around at the two exits.

Gojo hummed looking at your legs. It would be a crime not to take advantage of the opportunity. Without hesitating, he rested his head on your lap. "You're not going to make me sleep on cold concrete, right?"

"Yeah, right," you grinned and made yourself comfortable leaning against the wall. "Ya know, it's dangerous for you to be with me," Gojo only snuggled harder into your lap. Whether it was true or not didn't bother him at all. "I mean, we got here at the same time, but you said you didn't bump into anyone. So the mimics are here for me."

Oh. So you meant the maze. "Nah, that's okay. You can stroke my hair if you want," Gojo murmured sleepily, not specifying that he wanted it himself.

Your hand was immediately in his hair. You were gently scratching the shaved back of his head with your fingertips, and he was half asleep, unable to resist the goosebumps that spread up his spine. You tried not to lose concentration or look at him too much.

So you stayed there. Gojo peacefully asleep in the godforsaken place on your lap, and you watching the doorways intently; one of your hands running through his hair, the other playing with the dagger, deftly moving it between your fingers

Rachel tried unsuccessfully to make out the caller's name on the phone screen through her blurred vision. Completely desperate, she turned the screen toward Shoko and tapped her finger on the phone.

Shoko raised an eyebrow, but still read the caller's name. "It's Frank."

The spoken name literally made Rachel come to her senses. She answered the phone and straightened her back as if he'd walked into the room. "Hey, dad," she said loudly and distinctly-embroidering each word.

A disgruntled snort was heard on the other end. "Young lady, how much did ya drink?"

Rachel exhaled in astonishment. She wanted to lay her head gently on the table, but she miscalculated her strength, and a dry loud thud rippled through the room. "Just a little bit."

"If this keeps up, I'm going to talk to higher-ups about cutting your funding," the bass in the receiver was so loud Rachel had to tear the phone away from her ear.

"Actually, we're not financially dependent on them anymore," Rachel drunkenly stammered.

"Then I'll talk to Y/N about it," Frank didn't relent.

"Dad-"

Rachel interrupted his angry tone. "Cut it out. I have no desire to watch my daughter drink herself to death. If ya're not thinking of yourself, at least think of your son."

She suppressed the sob climbing to her lips with her hand, pretending to cough it out. "Got it."

"Good girl," Frank's voice became an order of magnitude softer as did his heart. "How are the others doing?"

"Kyle's in raid, Y/N's missing again."

"As soon as they get home, tell them to call me," the man said worriedly and at times like this he sounded especially parental. "By the way, I'll be sending a replenishment to ya soon," he added in between.

"What?" muttered Rachel grudgingly. "More students?"

"No. One of the hunters expressed a desire to join the voidrunners. I fought the higher-ups out of him, they wouldn't let him go," Frank said grinning unkindly. "The only thing is ya'll need to train his stamina and then take him through isolation afterward."

"Ya talk about it like it's a shopping trip. Anyway, one person? Ya serious?"

Frank took a deep breath. "Don't take your frustration out on me. Anything is better than nothing. The kid's twenty years old, name's Issu. Unsociable, but he knows his stuff. Even without isolation he's doing well, so don't get upset early."

Rachel nodded, oblivious to the fact that the person she was talking to was not sitting in front of her. There was a second's silence on the other end of the line.

"One more thing," Frank finally broke the silence. "How are things going with your coworkers?" he sounded casual, but that was what alerted Rachel.

"Well... fine, I guess?" she said as cautiously as possible. "Why?"

"It's just... It's just that some of the higher-ups still aren't thrilled," Frank's casualness was immediately replaced by indignation as soon as he said the phrase aloud. "Quote, 'hunters haven't messed with such the dirt yet'."

"Dad," muttered Rachel wrinkling her nose. "What are they gonna do to us? Let them say what they want as long as they don't crawl out of their holes."

"Fine," Frank said trying to push the feeling of anxiety away. "Make sure you tell those two to give me a call. Love ya."

"And I love ya, too. See ya later," Rachel said and hit the disconnect button.

She looked up from the phone and was surprised to see Shoko staring at the living room. Following the direction of her gaze, Rachel also stared at Mei-Mei, who was seated on the couch watching TV. She was wearing nothing but a oversized light-blue shirt.

"And here I thought people like her could afford at least one set of pajamas," Rachel mumbled disappointedly, getting up from the table. "I'm going to bed," she waved to Shoko and headed for the second floor.

Shoko glanced at her, watching carefully to see if Rachel would trip on the steps. When she heard the door slam, she turned to Mei-Mei. "Is it so hard to follow the rules of this house?"

"Does any of the rules here have any legal force? I don't think so," Mei-Mei said winking slyly at Shoko.

"Change your clothes," the doctor said sharply.

"I won't," Mei-Mei cooed. "This gift means a lot to me."

"I have no idea what you're trying to accomplish," Shoko said getting up from the table. "But I do know that when someone takes someone else's stuff without permission, it can hardly be called a gift."

Mei-Mei chuckled softly. "It's just an unnecessary circumstance for no one."

"Watch out that you don't pave your way to grave with these circumstances," Shoko mumbled indifferently as she walked up to the second floor. Her voice grew quieter with each step she passed. "I wouldn't piss off the locals if I were you."

"How dangerous," Mei-Mei whispered hiding a smile beneath the fingers pressed to her lips.

"..., hey."

Either in a dream or in reality, a hand gently stroked Gojo's cheek. He fidgeted in his half-slumber trying to get comfortable, holding something soft against him. It would have continued like this until someone forcefully flicked him on the forehead. He jerked his eyes open. The sudden realization of where he was made him jump up.

"Morning, sleepyhead," you said quietly, holding out a water bottle to him.

He took a couple sips, and then wiped his eyes. "Morning," he muttered in a hoarse voice. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah. It's just that we should get going. You've been asleep for three hours, so they're probably getting close to us by now."

In the darkness, you saw the outline of his round eyes. You grinned thinking that Gojo was stunned that he'd slept so peacefully in such a place for so long. He thought about the fact that you had actually been sitting in the same position the whole time so as not to disturb his sleep.

Gojo stood up stretched out to his full height kneading his stiff limbs. "Impressive," you whistled getting up from the ground and looking at his figure.

"Listen," he began in a still sleepy voice. However, sleepy thoughts can often be delusional, full of illogic, but in your situation, every one of them could fit. "Isn't that us?"

"Huh?" you stopped shaking off your feet and raised your head to look at him. "What do ya mean?"

"You said a breach is something that's taken out of the setting. Isn't that us?"

Something cracked. You wished it was an insight, but it was the floor beneath your feet. A few inches away from you, the ceiling collapsed at once raising a cloud of dust and dirt blocking your already meager view. You glanced down; the floor was literally breaking into pieces and falling into the void. Your head snapped up sharply and you darted from side to side, desperately trying to find Gojo amidst the cloud of concrete dust in the chaos of the falling ceiling and breaking floor. Your pounding heart wasn't calmed, but nearly burst as someone's hands clamped you down to chest shielding you from everything.

You opened your tightly squeezed eyes when the noise of destruction finally died down. The summer breeze touched your dusty hair. The smell of burnt wood, peppermint and something sweet hit your nose. Gojo still held you close to him.

You stood in a small square in front of glass doors and a there was a blue sign above you. "Gojo," you called out softly, grabbing his forearm. "We're in the middle of the street."

"No," Gojo mumbled stubbornly into your shoulder, clutching you obstinately in his arms. "We're still in the maze."

You suppressed a chuckle against the fabric of his sweatshirt. "Let's go home already."

***

Already changed into your pajamas, you stood in the bathroom brushing your teeth. You were holding a coaster in your hand, and you looked at it in surprise: there was another toothbrush in it. You hadn't noticed it before. How long has it been here?

"Weirdo," came a voice. Gojo stood leaning against the doorway watching as half the toothbrush evaporated somewhere in your mask. "I still can't figure out if it's the mask, or if it's just that you have a freakishly huge mouth." Gojo walked over to you and took the toothbrush from the coaster, and you set it back down with a clatter.

The only sounds in the bathroom were the water running from the faucet and the rustle of brushes. You weren't used to someone else standing next to you in the bathroom. Gojo was not used to having someone else standing next to him in general.

But you were learning.

"Nice pajamas," he muttered inarticulately from behind a mouthful of toothpaste, peering at you and your pajamas with the funny little avocados through the mirror. "Staying in the workroom tonight?"

You spit the toothpaste into the sink. "Yeah, I need to get some more work done," you said and wiping your face with a towel walked out of the bathroom.

You went to the desk and opened the bottom drawer pulling out a stack of blank sheets. Sitting down in your chair, you tossed it onto the table; your eyes caught the folder where the stack had fallen.

"How much longer you gonna work?" asked Gojo taking a seat next to you.

"Ya wanna sleep here? I'll try to keep it short," you replied picking up the folder with Rachel's recent raid report.

"That's not what I'm talking about," he muttered awkwardly shifting his intertwined.

"Meg, put the kettle on, please," you said running your eyes over the lines.

The voice that answered you was full of indifference. "Put it on yourself."

Muttering sarcastic words of thanks to yourself under your breath, you wanted to get up from your chair, but his hand came down gently on your shoulder stopping you. "I'll get it done," Gojo stood up and headed towards the kettle; once he was at the target, the kettle clicked on and turned green. "What, does everyone in this house have a similar sense of humor?" he exclaimed splashing his hands indignantly. You only shrugged guiltily.

The kettle finally boiled, and he set the mugs on the table. You stared in horror at the sixth sugar cube he was throwing into his mug.

Gojo handed you a cup of hot fragrant tea. "So kind of ya," you said leaning back in your chair and putting your feet up on the table. Your gaze drifted back to the report.

There were warm and insanely soft red socks on your feet. Gojo stared at them watching you clench and unclench your toes. Cute. "Your socks are nice too," he commented taking a sip from his mug.

You tore yourself away from the papers throwing a glance at your feet. "Thank ya," you chirped. "I always match my socks to the color of my underwear."

A mechanical voice cut into your conversation. "You're not wearing any underwear right now."

In the silence that hung, you phlegmatically wiped the tea off your face, which Gojo choked on. "Thanks for input," you muttered and turned to him. His face was red from intense coughing. Or so you thought. "Need help?"

"N-no!" exclaimed Gojo in a hoarse voice moving farther away from you.

"Okay," you said with a shrug.

You put the report aside and started filling out blank papers. Finally coming to his senses, he caught a glimpse of you writing about today's incident. "Y/N," you responded with a nod of your head. "Do you know the person who led us there?"

"Yeah," you replied dryly, continuing to trace out the letters on the paper.

Gojo bit his lip nervously, not knowing if he could go a little further. But testing the waters is not criminalized, is it? "Who is he?"

"My teacher, if you can call it that," you said crossing out some word and crumpling the piece of paper.

Gojo looked at you spitefully. "What? You were trained by a demon?"

"Can you imagine?" you exclaimed softly under your breath. "Life in general is an amazing thing."

Your behavior only misled him more. He gripped the cup tighter in his hands. Gojo wish he could keep his temper in check, but he didn't even know what pissed him off more: the information he'd gotten or your indifference. "He called you a pet," behind the pile of papers, you didn't notice the pouring disgust in his voice.

"He had a lot of strange habits. Never mind," he saw you rub your collar as you said it. It was high even on your pajamas.

The cup he was clutching in his hands cracked.

You turned at the sound. Gojo was holding a mug covered in tiny cracks; it looked like it was about to fall apart. "Put it neatly on the table. I'll clean it up later."

"You really wanna talk about fucking mug-"

"Look," you cut Gojo off halfway through tossing your pen wearily on the desk. "I need to write it all down," you tapped your fingers on the stack of paper. "And at least half of it will be scribbled about how sweet you sleep and how loudly you snore. So whatever it is, let's have a chat about it later," your voice sounded lower due to exhaustion. "Go to bed, 'kay?" you added more softly.

"Whatever you say," despite the anger in his chest that you hadn't noticed, he wasn't about to leave the workroom. On the contrary, he walked over to your bed and leaned on it tiredly, holding one of the pillows to his chest. Gojo had never seen you sleep here, and yet the pillow smelled like you. He burrowed his face deeper into it, leaving only his eyes to steal glimpses of your image. With each deep exhale, he calmed down little by little. You were here, with him, in the same room.

"Good night, boxy."

"Good night, mochi."

His eyes closed involuntarily. Falling into sleep, Gojo left behind those days in which the forecast had promised him endless rain and an eternally lonely room.

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