#this fuckers mean the world to me. unfortunately

[bogcreacher]

terrible awful dog man

[mishkakagehishka]

I need to learn interslavic i think

[skzdarlings]

bets and situations ; skz ; minho x reader

original ask: requested by anonymous: minho and “is that how you usually get out of these situations? by fucking your way out of them?” please

pairing: lee minho/reader content info: rivals to lovers. street racing. stubborn!reader. placing bets, betting sex (still explicit consent), fucking vs making love. outdoor sex. sex on a car. explicit sexual content. word count: 3400 words.

masterlist. part of the valentine’s day stories series. credit to prompts. requests are closed.

enjoy! <3

-

Sure, you are a little insufferable. 

But Lee Minho is worse. 

He carries himself with an elitist pomposity, like he is above the other drivers just because he once raced professionally.  Trophies or not, he is out here with the rest of you, illegally racing cars down desert roads, placing bets in the dead of night. 

You were content until this fucker came along.  Lee Minho and the stupid pretty face that won him fan clubs and brand deals.  Ugh.  You hate him for having that life and for giving it up when it is a fantasy for you.  The world of professional racing is notoriously hostile to women.  You admit there is a tinge of bitterness on your side of every interaction, but he goads you like an asshole.    

He arrives with his usual entourage.  A couple of them are racers, though not professionals, and a couple just spectate and mind his vehicle.  He has a nice car, almost as pretty as him.

You whistle as he approaches.  He looks at you with his usual exasperation, delicate features pinched with annoyance.  His hair was a vibrant red in his racing days, quite the act of showmanship, but it’s a natural dark brown now, framing his mean, stupid, handsome face.

“Hey, pretty boy,” you say.  “Finally gonna grow a pair and race me?”

His scowl turns to a bitchy little sneer.  He laughs sarcastically. 

“Not worth the mileage,” he says.  He shoulders past you, his leather jacket against your denim.  “Winning against a little girl does nothing for my massive ego.”  He says this with a sarcastic flourish, mocking your derision of him. 

You know the comment is a deliberately cheap shot.  Unfortunately, in reality, Minho is the least chauvinist racer you have ever met, treating the women here with the same basic dignity as the men.

It’s just you he hates, because you hate him too.   It was inevitable.  You were hostile when first meeting.  You challenged him to a few too many personal races.  You were a sore loser and even worse winner.  What started as an effort to prove something spiralled into a rivalry. 

You won the last couple races.  You gloated a little too hard and now he is refusing to race you again. 

“Sure,” you say.  “Sounds to me like you’re scared to lose for the third time in a row.” 

He just keeps walking, ignoring you, which is so much more infuriating than when he snaps back. 

You decide to keep your distance tonight.  If you continue to agitate yourself, you are going to develop a stress aneurysm.   So you keep to your own group, race your own races, and collect your own winnings. 

But, ugh.

He is right there. 

Just in the corner of your eye, just skirting the periphery of your space, just breathing the same night air.  When you are looking at him, he captivates you.  When you look away, he is like an impossible itch, begging for your attention again.  You constantly catch him looking at you too, which does not help matters. 

By the end of the night, you feel like a live wire, all electricity and unbound energy.  Not a single race has satisfied you.  You won three of four, making way more money than you lost, but it is not enough.  It is never enough.  You already know how good you are.  You know you can beat most of these guys blindfolded. 

Your only perfect match is Lee Minho.  The only victory that matters is that one. 

As the crowd disperses and everyone departs, you march towards him.  He is saying goodbye to his crewmates, his back to you, but his buddy cracks a grin when he sees you coming.  He smacks Minho on the shoulder before turning away. 

Minho turns around with a befuddled look on his face.  When he sees you, it slackens to that unamused vexation.  He pockets his hands in his leather jacket and slouches against his car.  He shakes his head as you stomp up to him. 

“One race,” you say. 

“No,” he replies, without missing a beat. 

“Why not?”

“Because I said so,” is his insufferable reply.

“That’s not an answer,” you say.

“That’s too bad.”  He gives you a final shrug then turns, opening his car door, preparing to leave. 

“Wait,” you say. 

You heart is racing.  Somehow, you feel like tonight is different from every other night.  Maybe it is the perfect crispness on the breeze, the remarkably clear sky, or maybe just the way those jeans seem to hug his thighs.  Stupid hottie.  You will have him and his attention.  You will get the better of him, one way or another.  It was all leading to this. 

“One race,” you say.  “A bet worth the mileage.” 

“I don’t need your money,” he says.

“I’m not offering money,” you reply. 

Finally, he closes the car door.  He sighs, a very loud and dramatic sigh, like you are the biggest inconvenience on earth. 

“What are you offering?” he says, facing you.  The disinterest in his tone is betrayed by the curious sweep of his gaze, an up-and-down perusal like he expects to find his prize somewhere on your body. 

Oh.

You feel flushed inside, realizing that it exactly what he is thinking.  Looking at you with a hungry, lecherous gaze, anticipating you are about to offer up yourself as a potential prize. 

It makes your heart stutter and your lips do the same, your next words all tangled up on your tongue.  It did not even occur to you to offer such a thing.  You hate him, so of course you would never think about him that way.  But now that he is looking at you like that, his expression coloured with interest and suggestion, you find yourself too shocked to even parse your feelings. 

The only thing that is obvious, abundantly obvious, is the punch of heat in your gut.  No, lower.  Heat that curls up inside you and makes you second guess.  Heat that is curious about the look in his eye. 

Then you shake your head.  You resist the urge to smack him for throwing you off.  You were in control and now you are flustered. 

“Not me,” you snap. 

His eyes, which have made their way down your whole body, follow the same path up.  He meets your gaze eventually.  Then he says nothing, because he is the worst, and just lifts an eyebrow at you. 

“My car,” you say, with no-nonsense finality.  “I bet my car.” 

He blinks at you.  Long, slow blinks like a cat.   It takes him a second to find a sentence. 

“Your car,” he says.  He tilts his head and squints, looking at you with scrutiny, like he is trying to see through your ploy.  “And what do you want if you win?” 

“Admit I’m the better driver once and for all,” you say.  The words feel a little foolish leaving your mouth.  You have been chasing the high of that confession, aggravated every time he dodged it, but saying it out loud makes you feel needy.  You clear your throat and stand straight like you are unbothered.  “That’s all I want,” you say.

He rubs a hand across his jaw, laughs incredulously, then swings his arms out at his sides. 

“Fine,” he says.

By now, everyone else has gone.  It is just you and him under the streetlights, the long empty road stretched across the dunes ahead.   You stare at one another, like there is no road and no sky, no world at all outside each other.  It is intense and all-consuming.   

You hold out a hand.  He takes it and yanks you closer to him.

“I would have told you that for free,” he says.  “Since it’s the truth.  You just had to ask.”

Now it is your turn to blink, looking at him with shock.  You would have been less stupefied if he called you a tirade of rude names, or tried to weave doubts in your mind.  Instead, he smiles at you, and it is not half as smarmy as usual.  He drops your hand and turns away, leaving you gawking at the air as he ducks into his car. 

He honks the horn, snapping you to attention. 

The heat rushes back in a hurry.  You swallow, then walk to your car on suddenly shaky legs. 

-

He wins.

Of course he wins.

You were distracted by his parting words.  You and him are so closely matched in skill that a fleeting weakness is all it takes for one to overtake the other.  You were faring well at the start, but his engine revved and your attention strayed.  Your prize was somewhat nullified by his confession, your behaviour embarrassing in hindsight.  You bet your car.  What were you thinking?

You weren’t.  And it was all his fault.   

Your car skids to a screaming halt just seconds after him.  You smack the steering wheel with frustration. 

Maybe I should have just bet my body, you think to yourself, a thought that has you shivering from something other than adrenaline.  Thoughts like that are not like you.  And Lee Minho is the last man on earth you could ever want.  Even though he is simultaneously the only man you want, or at least the only one with an opinion that matters, the only man whose attention you ever want.  He is always the highlight of your night. 

Oh god, you think with a nervous twist in your gut, I like that arrogant loser. 

Facing him is hard and it has nothing to do with losing your car. 

He is not gloating because he is not the type.  He is just leaning against his vehicle with his arms crossed, watching your nerves and passion get the better of you.  He does not flinch when you get right in his face, huffing from exertion.

“Do-over,” you say.

“Absolutely not,” he replies. 

“You got in my head on purpose.” 

“I can only do that if you let me in,” he says, looking smug.

“One more race,” you insist. 

“You have nothing left to bet.”

“Me,” you blurt.  “I bet myself.” 

You feel some satisfaction at the flicker of surprise that creases his brow, but then he is just staring and blinking again.  Your heart still thinks it is in a race, stampeding so far ahead that your whole body is awash with heat. 

“You,” he finally says.  His tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip, then he tilts his head in that studious way. “What does that mean?” 

You feel so hot it is making you a little woozy.  It’s just aftershocks from the race, you tell yourself, even though that heat comes from somewhere much more intimate. 

You cross your arms stubbornly.  You look away.  You even stomp your foot. 

“You know what I fucking mean,” you snap. 

“Is that how you usually get out of these situations?” he asks in a teasing tone.  “By fucking your way out of them?”

You refuse to answer.  You arms are still crossed, your face still turned.   

He touches your chin, a painfully delicate touch.  Whenever you do fuck someone, it is hard and fast, like everything else you enjoy.  Your greatest rival should be touching you with the roughest touch of all, but it is the very opposite.   It is a suggestion of a touch, little more than a caress as he turns your face to his.  You swallow until the intense focus of his sharp eyes. 

“I don’t fuck like that,” he says.  He bats his pretty eyelashes while smirking like a devil.  “I don’t have to make bets.  I make love to people because they want it.  Sorry.”  He rolls his eyes and turns away, wiggling his fingers in a sarcastic good-bye wave as he slides into his driver seat.  “You can keep your car.  I don’t want or need it.  Good night.” 

You put yourself between the door and car, stopping him from closing it.  He looks at you, eyes narrowed more intensely. 

“Now, now,” he says. 

“I’m a big girl,” you snap.  “I don’t need you protecting my honour.  I wouldn’t offer to let you fuck me if I didn’t mean it.” 

He stares at you, contemplative behind those dark eyes.  He has just returned your vehicle so you have no reason to make another bet, other than to prove the veracity of your previous offer: that you do want to fuck him, even if you don’t want to admit it.

“I told you that you can keep your car,” he says. 

You are amazed smoke is not blowing out of your ears, considering how hot your face feels. 

“I heard you,” you say. 

He gets out of the car slowly, holding your gaze the entire time.  You take a step back. 

Then he walks at you, which forces you to take another backwards step.  Step by step across the tarmac.  The breeze tousles a bit of his hair, but nothing stops his stride and his eyes never leave yours. 

You find it difficult to catch your breath.  Garnering this man’s undivided attention has been your only goal for months, and the reality of it is heady.  He is intoxicating. 

It seems the feeling is reciprocated, given how he looks at you, which just makes you stumble in your backwards trek.  He catches your wrist, tugging you upright, yanking you closer.  You collide with his chest, disoriented from so little. 

“So,” he says.  “If you win, we fuck.  And if I win, we make love.  Is that correct?” 

“Whatever, there’s no difference,” you say.  You are instinctively combative when flustered, redirecting the source of your embarrassment to confrontation. 

It seemingly works.  His attention diverts and he says, “Yes, there is.”

“No, there isn’t.” 

“Yes, there—”  He stops himself from retaliating with the same childish rejoinder.  He props his hands on his hips, shaking his head at himself as he stares up at the stars.   

Eventually he huffs, rakes his teeth over his bottom lip, then looks at you. 

“Fine,” he says.  “We’ll race.” 

Your heart is already revving like an engine.  You take another couple steps back to smirk at him triumphantly.  You walk right into your car, that smug face dropping in surprise.  It gives him the opportunity to crowd you against it, planting his hands on either side of your head.  You hold your breath. 

“You have to pass my test first,” he says. 

“Excuse me!”  Your own incredulity resounds.  You smack his chest but he does not move. 

“It’s just two questions,” he says.  “You’re a smart girl.  You’ll figure it out.” 

He is tormenting you.  You hate him.  You hope he never stops. 

“Fine,” you snap.  His smirk makes your whole belly swoop with anticipation. 

“Good,” he says, then stands back. 

You hold his stare, refusing to show any weakness.  At least you can catch your breath in the space between you. 

Then he says, “Get on your knees.” 

Your legs are already shaky – from nerves, from the dwindling adrenaline of your race.  There are a lot of reasons your knees buckle.  Plenty of explanations for why you do not hesitate, sinking to your knees right there on the road. 

Your gaze drops, flustered by his demand and your response.  You look at his shoes, all black, well-worn, scuffing the tarmac as he steps towards you. 

“Now tell me,” he says, then gathers a fistful of your hair and yanks your head back.  He meets your gaze as he says, “Is this fucking or making love?”

Then his fingers are in your mouth.  You let him in without any hesitation, like your whole body is instinctively attuned to his.  His grip is firm, his fingers relentless, undoubtedly fucking your mouth with the sloppy, mean thrust you would expect from an enemy.  Still, it feels good, unbelievably so, your mouth wet and hot and his fingers sliding over your tongue, the soft suction of your lips making his eyes blaze and his throat bob as he swallows. 

When he slides out, a trail of spit connects his fingers to your lips.  Your lips quiver with a shuddering breath. 

“Well?” he says. 

You swallow, but eventually manage a weak, “Fucking.” 

“Good,” he says, grinning that wicked grin.  “That’s one out of two.  How about this one?” 

He drops to his knees.  You are face-to-face now, kneeling on the road in the dead of night.  There are no witnesses to this scene except maybe the stars, the clear night revealing all your secrets. 

His face is as open, his expression suddenly so devastatingly soft and vulnerable.   Your breath stutters before he even moves.  He cups your cheeks with both hands and draws you to him.

Your eyes close when your lips touch.  He strokes his thumbs across your cheeks and licks into your mouth with decadent slowness, like he wants to savour every second of your taste.  Your mouths move together like they were made for each other, never racing too far ahead. A perfect give-and-take. 

When he stops, you feel dizzy and bereft, but only for a second.   He cups your jaw and tilts your face just so, then his fingers are parting your tender lips and the taste of him is on your tongue once more.  Your eyes close and you moan thoughtlessly, bobbing your head to the gentle rhythm he sets. 

“This,” he says in a feathery-light voice.

You shiver as he slowly withdraws his fingers.  He wipes his thumb across your lips to clean you.  You let him cup your chin and tilt your face, this time so he can look you in the eye. 

“Tell me what we’re doing,” he says.   

The suggestion makes you throb.  You are hot and aching when you admit, “Making love.”

“Good,” he says, then pecks your lips before rolling onto the balls of his feet and shooting upright.  “Now we can race.” 

-

It is a perfect draw. 

You are both distracted.  When you slam on the brakes in the same place at the same moment, it is with a singular purpose in mind. 

Doors slam.  You meet in the space between your vehicles. 

“I won,” you say, just to be argumentative. 

He is shrugging out of his jacket.  It his the ground.  He does not break his stride, already going for his belt.  Your knees nearly buckle again. 

“Fine,” he replies.  “Then get over here.  I’m fucking you on the hood of my car.” 

Fucking you is exactly what he does.  It is not making love.  He strips you methodically, your jacket and shirt and bra.  Your jeans get shoved down past your knees and he bends you over the hood, still warm from the purring engine.  You are hot and frantic, cheek pressed to the hood of your rival’s car while he works you open and shoves himself inside you. 

You make a sharp sound then a low moan, hands plastered to the hot hood.  He fucks you like he races you, without holding anything back because he knows you can take him. 

It feels as primal as a race, the animal instinct that conquers you in a rush of adrenaline.  It is your singular focus, the steady thud of him inside you.  You do not care about appearances, about seeming ridiculous, meeting every thrust and moan with your own.  He sounds good and feels better, your bodies in harmony, chasing each other to the finish line. 

He yanks you up, your back arching as he turns your head for a kiss.  It puts you over, clenching hard around him, setting him off.  He makes a soft sound then groans with pleasure.  He stays there for a minute, both of you breathing hard.

“I want you to keep your car,” he finally speaks, “because I need you to come back tomorrow and race me again.” 

You gasp when his hand moves between your legs, working you up again, slowly but surely.   

“Because next time I’ll win,” he says.  “You sounded so good getting fucked.  I want to see your face when you come on my cock again and again from making love.”

“Won’t happen,” you say, even while your on the cusp of doing just that. 

“Mm,” he says, then laughs that light, evil laugh as you come all over his hand.  He kisses the side of your head and says, “Wanna bet?” 

[ghostbsuter]

"Oh, fuck no." The door is slammed, unfortunately for him, the guy stuck his foot in the jamb and pushed it open again.

"C'mon luv!" Constantine smiles charmingly, not waiting for Danny and entering the apartment.

At least Batman, Nightwing and Spoiler had the patience to wait for him to invite them in. Sagging against the door, he beckoned them inside.

Despite the caution, Spoiler gleefully stepped in, looking around like a child in an amusement park— which might not be too far off.

His apartment is, with all its wards and enchantments, very magical inside than it is outside.

The planetary system of another world, used as light for the living room and for practice.

(Nightwing is careful with what he touches. He still remembers the hours they spent in Mumbo Jumbo's hat.)

Batman on the other hand is following Constantine and Danny to what he assumes to be the office, if the amount of magical stuff carelessly laying around means anything.

"Alright fucker, what are you doing here? And how did you even know I live in gotham?"

John had the audacity to look abashed, scratching the back of his head with a nervous chuckle.

"Something came up and you know Gotham doesn't like me. She is much more used to you and I wanted to introduce bats to you, in case of emergency."

The young adolence stares owlishly.

(How did Constantine expect him to act at the fact that he's trusting a magical situation into the hands of a stranger?

Batman isn't sure how good the boy even is!)

"That's incredible thoughtful of you Connie." Danny hums. "What did you lose for your sorry ass to come here?"

Spoiler snorts, petting a red salamander. "He didn't lose anything." She reassures with a wave, giving an exaggerated smile and raising her brows to show that she's finding it very amusing.

Constantine sputters.

"Ancient knows how Zatanna and Raven deal with him."

Nighteing perks up from the side where he'd looked over the books, some pixie fairies(?) fawning over him? "Raven? You know her?"

Danny suppresses another sigh.

[gallusrostromegalus]

You ohhhandedly mentioned tessai livong through ww2 and… wow thats true there were a lot of characters that got a first row seat to both conflicts, even if only the second was really impactful on japans history. Does urahara, yoruichi, tessai, the vizored or any of the shinigami have any specific feelings on ww2/the nuclear bombs? I know its a wild fucking question but it literally just occurred to me and i cant stop thinking about it.

Yeah WW2 is an entire 5-chapter arc in the fic because apparently Kubo is from Hiroshima, and Karakura town is based on his memories growing up there. Stuff that happens during that arc:

The Soul Society's sole warning that something catastrophic might be coming is the arrival of an irradiated and enraged Coyote spirit from the Trinidad test site. It's up to Newly-appointed captain Komamura to calm it down and explain what happened, and Mayuri is able to work out that atomic weapons are real from it's descriptions. He gives Soul Society about a month before the humans drop one on a city.

Unfortunately, he's correct.

***

Urahara and the Visoreds use the fact that they're already dead to mitigate some of the damage from the bombing by walking into the epicenter and shoving carbon rods into the most radioactive points, stemming much of the radiation damage, but there's nothing they can do for the initial wave of destruction.

It involves going through a new gigai every trip and learning what if feels like to have the flesh actually melt off your bones, but Hirako Shinji and the other Visored are no cowards, least of all about Hard and Dirty Work.

Tessai makes Ururu and Jinta out of spare parts from Urahara's Gigai experiments to house a heavily damage Kitsune and Tanuki spirit pair from a shrine that was destroyed. Ururu is the Tankuki, and the older one- Jinta seems a bit more 'organic' because Tessai learned a lot making his sister, and because as a Kitsune, he's a better actor.

***

Soul Society is in major trouble though.

with the sudden influx of souls- first from the bombing, but then from the radiation sickness and the famine that followed, the living and spirit worlds are in danger of becoming unbalanced.

It's a Major Crisis!

Fortunately for them, people with sociopathy tend to operate really well during Crises, and I realized the reason Mayuri hasn't been fired or killed by the time Ichigo shows up is that when shit hits the fan, Mayuri's lack of emotional response to the suffering of others means he can buckle down and fucking DELIVER.

Expansions to the pocket dimension that the queue of incoming souls is housed in? He didn't sleep for two weeks to get it done on time, but there was more than enough room when the bomb dropped and for the few months after as casualties continued.

Emergency rations for all these incoming factory workers that know nothing about farming? Behold, Nutritionally complete meals that you can eat right out of the box! And smaller, friendlier ones for the kiddies!

Hell, the 12th division even makes instructional propaganda videos about how safe and tasty these new foods are, featuring The Grand Clown Himself, and distribution centers featuring his likeness, so Mayuri enjoys a peculiar popularity in the Rukongai, not unlike an off-brand and sometimes educational Krusty The Clown.

Just ah. Stop asking questions about the ingredients list.

***

"I'm not fucking killing civillians." Says Kenpachi when Yamamoto begins to bring up the historical method that the Shinigami have used to balance out sudden influxes of souls from the living world.

"Oh?" Yamamoto glares at him. "You have a better idea?"

"What's them big fuckers that come outta tears sometimes? Hundred feet tall, black, bird faces?" He asks, waving as he tries to remember the names.

"...Menos Grande?" asks Ukitake, who has gotten remarkably good at interpreting for the man next to him at meetings.

"Yeah!" Zaraki grins, patting his six-foot-tall colleague on the head like a small child. "You said they're like... combination creatures of a thousand souls each right?"

"Zaraki is correct." Pipes up Tousen, who is also extremely eager to not murder civilians and even more eager to absolutely fuck up the army of Menos Aizen has been gathering in Hueco Mundo. "-It wouldn't be *easy* but dispatching approximately Five hundred Menos in the next week seems much more doable and much, much more morally sound than killing five hundred thousand civillians. Sir."

Kaname can feel the curse nails on his back starting to bleed from Aizen's glare but he presses on.

"-There appears to be a significant population of them gathered on the far eastern edge of Hueco Mundo. It would probably take most of the 11th Division's forces but-"

"IKKAKU!" Zaraki is already bellowing out the door to his lieutenant. "TELL EVERYONE TO PACK AN EXTRA PAIR OF PANTIES, WE'RE GOING ON A HOLLOW HUNT!"

There is a distant but enthusiastic whoop form Ikkaku in reply.

"An excursion into Hueco Mundo is exceptionally dangerous." Unohana notes, voice placid as he returns to the table.

"-and? I don't do this job because it's safe 'n' easy." Zaraki shrugs.

Her neutral expression softens just a bit into a small, affectionate and perhaps ever-so-slightly lascivious smile. "May I suggest that a detachment of the 4th Division accompany the 11th? It won't make the work easier, but it will mitigate some of the risk."

Yamamoto groans, aware that the decision has been made for him.

"Fine." He grunts. "Take a detachment of the Ninth too, you can use that newfangled radiodar whatsit to keep me updated."

"Pardon?" Mumbles Kaname, slightly woozy from blood loss.

His circulatory situation is not helped when an illusion-blind-to-the-blood Zaraki grabs him about the middle and starts carrying him off under his arm in exactly the direction the 9th and 11th are not like a particularly bewildered purse Chihuahua.

***

Aizen... almost strays from his path.

The Hogyoku is slow and tiresome, his first plan to barrage Karakura with Menos to create the Oken is being trashed and actually being forced to work his job of Rukongai Management is- Well, it's reminding him just why he started this quest to Dethrone God.

What loving creator would make an afterlife of squalor, where the 'lucky' are cursed to outlive everyone they know and love? Not one worth worshiping, surely.

But actually being out here, setting up emergency food distribution, implementing the latest in civil engineering from the newly arrived and seeing it immediately improve the quality of life, uniting families and... actually helping people? it's making him question his path. Perhaps- Perhaps God is not some uncaring regent on a distant throne. Perhaps God is something that lives in all souls, a kindness and goodwill towards one's fellow man, and to spread the will of a loving creator, one must Act to Enact God's Will...

Gin Panics.

He has not spent the last 300-odd years dangling the Hogyoku in front of Aizen, stuffing him full of spiritual energy to feed to the machine that generates reality like he was fattening up a goose for Pate, only to have him give up his quest for divinity NOW.

He's gonna have to do something drastic.

He's gonna have to convince Aizen he was right all along, and that he needs to keep using the Hogyoku.

He's going to need to use Aizen's own Illusions against him, and convince Aizen that the souls of the citizens of the rukongai aren't worth playing a Benevolent God for. That the whole thing needs to come out and be replaced.

Sure, it's a dick move

but those are his specialty.

***

It's the night before the 11th and the two detachments are supposed to leave for Hueco Mundo, and Yamamoto's been doing some thinking.

He is also in Zaraki's quarters at midnight sharp. "Captain-General." Nods Unohana, pausing mid-activity to acknowledge him. "Bruh." Zaraki grunts to indicate they were busy. "I need to borrow Zaraki for an hour or so, and then you may continue." he says, and then steps back outside so the man can get untied and dressed.

"This better be good old man, I know you haven't been married for a few centuries but REALLY-" Zaraki grumbles, emerging and putting his sandals on. "Don’t worry, it’ll take twenty minutes tops, all you have to do is stand behind me and don’t hide your rage." Yamamoto explains. "-We'’re going to go see the central 46." Zaraki pauses mid-sandal, slowly looking up at him with an intrigued arch to his brow. "Yes, it’s forbidden." Yamamoto says, not tearing his gaze away from the moon above them. "-But I've received reports that the Central 46 has acquired blueprints of the... Device. Used in the living world earlier this month and I'm nipping this at the damn bud." Zaraki grins, and finishes putting his sandals on.

The Central 46 are alerted to the Presence of Yamamoto and Zaraki by the main gate to their district being kicked through the wall of the council chambers.

"Hello, Sages and Wise Councilors of the Soul Society!" The Old Man greets them as he steps through the hole he just made, and The Barbarian squeezing through after, sword casually over his shoulder. "Well isn't this a surprise, everyone here in a full meeting at One in the Morning on a Teusday!"

"Wh-What is the meaning of this?" one of the head councilmen sputters, mustache bristling. "Shinigami are forbidden form this place, I'll have you both execu-!"

"Shut up." Yamamoto glares, and sparks fly from the corner of his eye. The hem of his Haori is starting to smolder and singe as well as he approaches the table the councilors are crowded around the blueprints from the living world.

"Now, we are all good and honorable people here." Yamamoto says, casually waving a hand in what would normally be a placating gesture but now only made his sleeve flicker as Ryujin Jakka grew hungrier. "-But I've been around long enough to know how Power corrupts."

"And we've all been exposed to a new, horrific level of Power."

"Oh, of course, you would never! It's unthinkable to sink to such a level!"

"...but it's been a few weeks. The initial shock has faded, and you're starting to understand the full toll of the destruction." he explains, strolling up, the diamond insignia on his back spreading across his shoulders as the Haori singes. Behind him, Zaraki is following with an unpleasantly carnivorous stroll, yellow eye lazily moving from face to face, taking stock of all those present. "...and you are perhaps developing a new standard of devastation and suffering to wish upon your enemies."

There is some muttering, some protesting, and worse, some agreeing. They are silenced by a sudden electric crackle of Energy from Zaraki.

"I’m just here to tell you all-" Yamamoto continues, unperturbed. Or perhaps so perturbed he's warped all the way around to a deep, ruthless peace.

"If I hear any ONE of you has taken steps to develop a weapon like this-" he points a finger at the blueprints, which singe and then burn, a low, slow flame that reduces them completely to ash.

"-I’m going to kill all of you."

"Actually," he explains, as the blueprints finish burning and the table catches as well, fire blooming and crackling, lighting him from beneath. "I’m going to kill all of you and your families. By which I mean, I’m figuring out who all your ancestors were going back Five generations, Kill them, and kill all their descendants."

The table burns, and the floor is threatening to catch, but nobody can move to ring the fire alarm or grab a bucket of water.

"-Because that’s the kind of indiscriminate destruction these things cause." he explains. "It's a damn shame to say this, but this is the first time we've been able to settle whole families in the same town- because five, six, even seven generations of families, from great-great grandmother to the newest infants were burnt together in an instant."

"So if you want to wield that kind of destruction, you best be prepared to deal with those kinds of consequences." he growls, and suddenly sweeps his hand over the fire, which snuffs out immediately.

Slowly he turns to go, and regards Zaraki behind him.

"Oh, and just in case any of you had thoughts of hastening my retirement in regards to this matter-" he speaks up, and points to Zaraki "-Near as I can tell, this asshole is immortal and indestructible, so if I happen to be dead, he'll do it for me, won't you?"

"Yes, sir." Zaraki Nods, eye fixed on the head councilor, committing his face to memory, blade and crackling eagerly.

"-and he's nowhere near as speedy and clean a killer as I am, so I suggest you don't test either of us." Yamamoto grins, and Ryujin Jakka can't help but flicker off his brow for emphasis.

"Goodnight, and go fuck yourselves." Yamamoto bows, and exits through the same hole he entered.

The walk back to the 11th is largely silent, but Yamamot can feel the pleased-yet-curious thrum of reiatsu from Zaraki.

"Question, boss-" he suddenly speaks as they approach the 11th.

"You're not supposed to question orders, Zaraki." He sighs. He'll make a proper shinigami out of him. Eventually.

"...Request for clarification, Boss-" Zaraki tries again, and Yamamoto nods. "-Why me?"

Yamamoto arches an overgrown brow at him.

"Not complainin'-" Zaraki explains, pointedly looking up at the moon and scratching his neck in deferment. "-But Byakuya's got more sway with them and Gin's definitely better at terrifying first impressions."

"Hm." Yamamoto nods. "It's in the follow-up, not the impression, you see."

"I do not." Zaraki says. For all his faults and frustrations, Zaraki sure keeps Yamamoto on his toes about not being lazy and actually explaining himself.

"-I am very serious about you killing them and their descendants if they ever think about making one of those devices." he sighs and Zaraki nods, waving a hand for him to continue. "-So I picked the Shinigami most invested in a peaceful future to make sure my orders would be carried out."

Zaraki still looks confused.

"You're my only captain with children, Zaraki." Yamamoto explains. "I know you only give half a rat's ass about the court guard, but I've seen what you'll do for Yachiru."

Zaraki nods understanding now, and a few more paces of silence pass between them.

"...Thank you, Sir." Zaraki mutters, bowing his head and using the honorific with genuine intent for the first time since Yamamoto had known him. "-For understanding."

"Thank you, Captain Zaraki." Yamamoto nodded slightly, stopping before the gate to the 11th. "-For understanding as well."

"-Now get back to Captain Unohana before she schedules some sort of blood test of a thousand needles for me!" Yamamoto grunted, prodding at Zaraki with his cane, and the man didn't need to be told twice.

[felony-bunny]

Monster fucker Mc: Do you know why most of the school is avoiding me?

Jamil who unfortunately has to work with them: I feel like you should know the reason.

Monster fucker Mc: ?

Jamil sighing: You want a list?

Monster fucker Mc: Yes please!

Jamil: One you explained the creation of ‘tentacle hentai’ from your world to Azul. Two you aggressively flirted with any fae, beastman, or mermen you found decently attractive.

Monster fucker Mc: I gave up when they said no.

Jamil: Three when asked why you were reading biology books you stated that you wanted to learn about specific things.

Monster fucker Mc: I wanted to learn about their dicks.

Jamil ignoring them: Four you asked people about their mating/heat cycles.

Monster fucker Mc: …

Jamil: …

Monster fucker Mc: Is that it?

Jamil: WHAT DO YOU MEAN IS THAT IT?!

[heartfullofleeches]

Thinking about... Dea and loser reader... Loser reader complaining about everything in their life when they literally have a God by their side 💀💀💀💀 Loser reader: my life is shit ughhh why is nothing going well for my life I'm so single and unfortunate!!! Dea: I'm sorry my lord, I'm always here to assist you, seeing you unhappy deeply pains me. I could grant you the riches of the earth, and umm... I'm here... If you would ever need someone as unworthy as me... Loser reader: Hah, you're so cringe! Don't even think about helping me! I DON'T NEED ANYONE. I'm not some whore who needs to get sucked off every minute of my life Dea: ...would you desire that? Loser Reader: ....yeah

Loser reader would probably hate the one-sided power and try to overcome their humanity so their search history is probably asking reddit, quora or some obscure website on how to become a god

Ehhh I can't be that mean to my sweet baby and honestly Loser Reader would be quite happy with Dea. Having a being that powerful on their hip would give them a huge ego boost and Dea can probably squeeze some of whatever trauma that fucker has outta them being the sweetheart that they are. Dea makes Loser Reader their favorite snack from their childhood that tastes just how they faintly remember and they break down sobbing in the deity's lap. Loser Reader really just needs someone decent to leech off of and Dea is the best choice.

Loser Reader: maybe.... I'm cringe.. God, I really am a loser

Dea: Nonsense, my grace. We all have our slip ups. It's okay to be a little cringe sometimes. Would you like me to cradle you in my arms during your next three hour rant about how the world is crumbling around you?

Loser Reader: ..can I get a piggy back ride instead?

Dea: Whatever you desire, my grace. Whatever you desire

[theshadowrealmitself]

Thinking about the post I made about an omega getting transported to a universe without the a/b/o dynamics (unfortunately can’t reblog that original post with this addition cause both posts are gonna be scheduled) and I think a situation like that would really help give me what I want out of omegaverse

What I really want out of omegaverse is all the world building stuff, how a society and its people would function in that situation, but most of the time it’s a reimagining of intense misogyny, which is not my cup of tea

But I think a situation where a person goes from a society like that (without the omega hate) to a society where a/b/o isn’t a thing, would really highlight how different things would be

Technically the omegaverse society is different depending on the author, so I’m making up my own version, and adding in aliens:

Heats and ruts can cause health problems, the stress it puts on your body every month can lead to a ton of issues down the road, and honestly you just don’t wanna have your life be disrupted that much, so going on suppressants is common, especially for people who are single

But going off of suppressants can be deadly, and sometimes your suppressants can start being less effective as time goes on, so calling out of whatever to make sure you can go to the doctors and have that all figured out is not only normalized but also encouraged

(But now you’re suddenly in a universe where Humans don’t go through all that and you’re running out of suppressants and you’re just hoping the scientists, Vulcan ones who are strangely extremely interested in your heat suppressants and keep asking you about rut suppressants?, can quickly figure out how to make more)

Depending on the situation, scent blockers can be used (mostly in the maternity ward, so the medical staff don’t accidentally get their scent on the kids and accidentally cause the parents to instinctively think they’re trying to take away their kids), but it’s more of a personal preference

Alphas, omegas, and even betas can scent mark things, but alpha scents are usually just more noticeable because they tend to be more territorial and aggressive, doesn’t mean that omegas and betas aren’t scent marking things for the same reason, so just because you can’t smell an alpha around, doesn’t mean you aren’t encroaching on someone’s space, you can also tell people’s emotions from their scent

(You hate that in this new universe, no one can smell that you claimed stuff and you have to remember to verbalize it, you also hate that the only ones who can smell you are aliens who have to be weird about it because they aren’t used to Humans smelling like that)

I can never think of anything cool for betas and I hate that it’s usually just like “betas are usually just how Humans are irl”, so what, they don’t have cis guys that can get pregnant and cis women who can sire kids? boring! but I can’t think of anything fun for them!

Claiming bites are a thing, but mostly a thing of the past, still, you never touch go near an omega’s through without explicit consent

(If another fucker tries to go near your neck again you’re losing it at them >:/)

Nests are a big thing, even outside of heats, and kids, and stuff, it’s just really beneficial to an omega to have a safe, soft, place they have complete control over, their instincts demand it

(Apparently nesting isn’t a normal fucking thing for Humans in this universe?? you can’t find the round mattress with the round frame that has a headboard that goes around a majority of the bed to kinda cocoon you anywhere, that’s like, the most basic thing you’d used to find in stores, and now you keep having to find specialty shops that cater to extraterrestrials to find anything remotely similar, or figure out how to replicate it yourself, this is so frustrating!!! you’re gonna be so much more frustrated when you try to find the other supplies needed for nesting)

Instead of heats and ruts being quick things, there’s still a lot of time and clarity before it hits them, so like, let’s say if it’s a default alpha/omega, the omega will obsess over their nest and get it just right while the alpha get their scent on everything else in the room to let everyone else know to fuck off (if it’s any other pairing, then whoever feels the most comfortable fighting if a trespasser comes by, [even though that almost never happens, but there’s always that instinctual worry that if will happen] is the one who gets their scent on everything else and makes sure the room they’re in is secure)

(I love the idea of this omega getting a temporary Vulcan partner because their heat came on quickly, and Vulcans understand their predicament, so the omega is stressing over their nest while the Vulcan is walking around, methodically trying to scent everything because they know that also serves to make the other person not scenting feel secure in that scenario, and then, because I feel like Vulcans are a little bit of control freaks (lovingly) the Vulcan goes over to fuss with the nest as well and the omega is strangely content with that)

That’s what I have for now, may add stuff later

[blingblong55]

Smoke Signals- COD MEN

This is based gonna request:

Angst?, Family issues, mentions of abuse, mentions of SA and possible R8pe.

Backstory:

It's a known fact to Price that you never had a relationship/bond with your family. You had the worst relationship with them. As a child they treated you like shit. Nothing but the worst. One time, you tried to explain to them what had happened to you at a party, they as always didn't believe you. You were triggered when others would touch your thighs, so when they knew this, they pinned you to the floor, touching you everywhere. Ever since, it had been you out in the world.

----

Any time you'd have to take time off because you "earned" it, you'd stay at base. Price was the man you told all of your problems to, he listened to it all. Always the shoulder you leaned on, on tough nights. The guy who would make a joke as you cried. To him you had become his own child. So when your family would sneak up on base and verbally harass you for not being there for them(always asked for money) price would have them escorted. He'd sent you to his office and you'd sit there with a therapist, his hand holding yours. Always squeezing it when he knew you'd be close to a bad memory.

It brought him pain when he watched you talk about the past, you were so use to the mistreatment your poor soul thought this was normal. And ever since you first shared a dark memory with him, he has been teaching you the right ways you should've been treated like.

One late night, Price, Ghost and Alejandro had a meeting. It extended further than they'd like. Soap, Gaz, Rudy and Kreuger were off base, they decided to treat themselves to a few drinks. You walked around base, waiting for anyone to hang around with you. Unfortunately, your family got passed security. Soon they found you, they started to say things to you. "look at you, such a weak thing." your father pushed you around.

"there is a reason why I nearly aborted you, such a disgrace"

Your siblings started to push your buttons. And suddenly as you closed your eyes, you were 7 years old again. You were back in your room, your arms protecting your poor weak figure. "Daddy please stop!" you begged, yours eyes shut as tears streamed down. "this si what you get for being such a disrespectful thing!" he kept hitting you.

"please mummy do something, it hurts."

You prayed and prayed, hoping someone would hear this and take you away. To somewhere safe, kind and far away. To and mum and a dad who would love you, who'd hold your hand when you were scarred.

You must've been lookin' for me Sendin' smoke signals Pelicans circling Burnin' trash out on the beach

"get away from them!" price rushed to you. The rest of the team trailed behind, confused as to why the captain was acting like this. But as they approached they saw you. You were sitting on the floor, holding yourself as tears ran down. Price kneeled down, his arms around you. "Ghost call security, get these fuckers out" he spitted.

"hey, listen to me, you're safe now. They are gone." he whispered as he rocked you in his arms. "I'm here, they won't hurt you again. r/n"

But you weren't responding. You pushed hi off, he stepped back. You started whispering, "M'sorry dad, it's my fault just please..please don't hit me." your voice cracked. Your hands started to travel around your skin, you started to grip onto it. Price knew you were close to having a breakdown. So against your wishes he picked you up and jogged to his office.

One of your eyes is always half-shut Somethin' happened when you were a kid I didn't know you then and I'll never understand Why it feels like I did

Through the night he stayed up, listening as you calmed yourself down. "you left me alone." you finally said, your gaze focused on him. "I know kid, and for that I am sorry."

"why did you leave me?" your voice was so soft, god it broke him a million times to hear you say this.

"I didn't mean to."

---------

It was a regular Friday. Price and the other commanding officers back at the meeting room. You were locked in your room. What can I say, you learn from mistakes after all. You grew hungry at around 5pm, the mess hall was closed. To all other soldiers, but price gave you a spare key. "have a go, just don't be hard on the ice cream, and save me some." he had told you. As you exited your room, your mother tapped your shoulder. "I believe we have to talk." And you walked inside your room again. They sat around, "so what is it?" you asked. "why are you so stubborn with us?" you were confused. "stubborn?"

"well we try and try to talk to you, but all you do is send us away. I mean I am your mother for god sakes, and all I want is for my child to love me!" She began to fake cry. It was typical for her. "mum-"

"no your mother is right, we have tried to reach out, we send stuff to you, and all you do is bitch about it to your commanders." you dad stood up, god you hated that look on his face. Unfortunately it was a emotion he carried everywhere.

"When have I done such bullshit? I was just a kid when you all decided I would be your personal punching bag, you fucking blamed me for shit I didn't do. I loved you all, forgave you for it all."

"those are stolen memories, you saw a show and what you say we did is fake." you mother said

"what?! that is such a fucking lie! I lived through all your hate! I was always the idiot to go back to you! I cried for you, I begged for you to love me and all you did was laugh at my face mother!"

"pity me pity me." your sibling mocked your voice. You were closer to crying this time.

"aren't you embarrassed? grown men have to protect you, I mean you are just another burden for them!"

"that. is not true! I have found a family here, we all understand each other, we respect one another and I would die for them" you opened the door from your room, stepping out.

Your "conversation" had become so loud your teammates came out of their rooms. They all stood around and watched as you started to crumble. As you marched out, your mother grabbed your arm. "this isn't over! You listen to me here-!"

"no you listen to me! I have had enough of all of you, with you shit memories, you always play hero mother, always and I am tired of your fake crying. And by the way you should be embarrassed, at your grown age acting like a child? God you are pathetic.!" Your voice cracked every now and then, you wiped your tears and continue to look at her.

Alejandro wanted to step in, but Soap pulled him back. Price started to make way to you. You dad slapped you across the face. "don't you ever disrespect your mother!" There is was, his goddamn devil face. If he wanted you he could kill ya.

"go ahead dad, beat me, do it! just like when I was a kid! You fucking piece of shit."

"I hope you fucking die!"

the men started to approach. Your mother pushed you to the floor, as you looked up at her an evil smile was smudged against her lips. It was the same look she gave you every time she would hit you hard.

And once more, you were a child.

"mummy please, please don't hit me! I love you mummy please!" but she did it, she'd hit you until you fell asleep. And then as she regained some energy she would pull out a cigarette, she would light two. One for her and one for your skin. Anytime she inhaled the smoke, she would burn your skin

You're cried, "you are seriously doing this again?" your voice cracked, it was so low that only she heard. You had given up once more.

And as your father started to take his belt off, Ghost tackled him. He punched him a few times. One of your siblings tried to push him off, but Sebastian (Krueger) held them and with one move he knocked them out. Price and Soap dragged your mother and other sibling out.

"We will be back and next time I come around you'll regret being being born!" Rodolfo and Alejandro held you in their arms.

Just checking out to hide from life And all of our problems, I'm gonna solve 'em With you ridin' shotgun Speeding 'cause fuck the cops

Soon all the men looked at you, "what?" you cheek was red, a hand print on it. Gaz came back with a pack of ice, "here, don't want ya pretty face to suffer." he jokingly said.

"yeah imagine having to kiss ya cheek goo'night with what could be a bruise,,,,yikes" soap said as he wrapped you in his arms. Alejandro smacked the back of his head as he said that, it caused a giggle to escape your lips. "Oi!" he responded.

And for the first time, you were able to admit that your family had become your annoying lover boys. For this was true family, your family.

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆

Tags: @ruler-of-fandoms69

A/n: okay maybe this isn't exactly what you had in mind, but I really do hope you liked it!

Can’t sleep so here ya go!

[aita-blorbos]

AITA for having a hobby?

I (Old, NB) am not from the planet I am currently inhabiting. In fact, I specifically go to planets to take them over for... Okay, look, the reason isn't important, it's fun, and all of the lifeforms of these planets are inferior beings, so it's fine. I can feed here, and then, like, destroy all the shit. It's like kicking anthills, as an activity I have learned from the inferior beings?

So, to my current predicament. I came to this new world to further practice my hobby of planetary domination and destruction, but the inferior lifeforms were quote unquote "Unhappy" about this? Which, I mean, I guess I understand, but that's their problem, frankly.

So instead of us having a reasonable, species to species discussion, they captured me and began to observe me? I read their minds and they were all terrified of me, and were researching what I was, since they'd never seen anything like me before. Yeah, duh? Your dumb fucking planet couldn't produce an ultimate lifeform, it sucks.

Anyway, they stuck me in a tube for thirty cycles of their planet, which was frankly uncalled for and really sucked, and then abandoned me on the planet! And they had the fucking gall to leave using the info they had extracted from me!!! These people are the assholes, but this AITA is not about them, surprisingly.

Because after their unjust treatment of me for thirty planetary cycles (They called them years. That's stupid. Like the rest of their planet), the trauma caused my soul to split from my body, and my form became grotesque and requiring of permanent support to keep stable. Then, my stupid fucking baby soul (Less Old, M) left me!! To rot!!

Long story short, we were reunited due to help from some members of a new enlightened species that I asked very nicely, and everything was great, I could go back to doing what I do best!

Except this NEW fucking scrote of a beast (I don't think it's sapient, frankly, and it certainly doesn't know age or gender) that crash-landed on the planet just a few sun cycles prior decides I'm not allowed to do this? And fights me!?

Worst of all: IT WINS. So I lose my stray soul, and my friends' support, and my chance to continue doing what I love!

So. What else was I supposed to do except hold the pink fucker's planet hostage and threaten to destroy it along with the current planet we are on?

It didn't take kindly to that, unfortunately, and it teamed up with my soul and some other horrible little orange cretin to hit me with a truck, obliterating me.

I am currently writing this from my mind dimension, thinking of ways to come back, avenge myself, and go back to doing what I love - destroying planets.

Am I the Asshole for this? For having a weird hobby?

[chaifootsteps]

Log anon here, the firepoker revenge

Okay, I have a older brother, we’ll call him Bort.

Bort and I did not get along in the slightest while we were younger.

I was a really quiet and polite kid

He had the habit of punching the back of my head while I was distracted. Parents knew and tried to get him to stop but he didn’t

One day, I had enough.

So while my parents were watching, I grabbed the fire poker, ya know, the thing you use to poke the fire wood

I went to his room

I became the worlds greatest baseball player that day and HIT HIM ACROSS THE BACK OF HIS HEAD WITH IT with a classic battery batter swing

I didn’t in trouble

It DOESN’T end there though, the next day, I repeat the NEXT day, he tried to punch the back of my head again.

Once again, my parents watched and before they could stop him

I apparently saw him in a reflection and before he could hit me, I got SQUARE IN THE FACE!

He stopped after that day.

And since I like doing two stories

Years later, I was in grade 3/4 and I have something called global development delay (which means I learnt slower, really slower but once I got it, I knew it perfectly) anyways the reason I stated this is because I was told from a young age that when it comes to anger or being treated unfair, I should move away from there

They never told me where to go

So a lot of times, I left school due to being treated unfairly

And if you were my principle at the time, what would you do? Give me a proper talking? Tell me where I could go instead?

This fucker didn’t do ANY of that

Remember I am in 3/4 grade

He called the COPS on me, more than once apparently. It wasn’t to bring me back aswell, it was to arrest me!

And, to me, it’s downright hilarious since he was principle for only three months max before getting fired.

The principle after that was cool though, I tricked him into thinking that Dabbing was a way to say hello for the younger generation. Which was unfortunate because I kept the lie up and I dabbed hello back to him for a few years

This is amazing, Log Anon. Thank you for this insight into your life.

[headfullofpresley]

𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡!𝐄𝐥𝐯𝐢𝐬 | 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬

Warnings: witch!Elvis, witch!reader, slight enemies to lovers, mention of vampires, use of familiars, mention of demons, sacrifice of animals (if you squint), inaccurate information about supernatural creatures and spells bc i like making shit up lol, strong language.

A/N: witch, warlock - use whatever floats your boat. :) this is long af and after proofreading it i hate it, but whatevurrrr!

masterlist

“The Italians call them Strega. The Yoruba of West Africa call them Aje, meaning mother. In Norway, they called them Häxa. And here, we call them witch. Over the centuries, vampires and other species have fought them and fought beside them, bedded them and burned them. Whether adversary or ally, they have been a force to be reckoned with.”

You had never been interested in getting a roommate; living in a small apartment in the middle of bustling Beale Street, you were perfectly fine on your own.

Well, you weren't exactly on your own. You had your trusty familiar Pepper who came in the shape of a black cat with you at all times.

She was just as content as you were with just the two of you, but as your landlord upped the rent, you had no choice than to put an ad in the newspaper.

After turning down several people with the best excuses you could come up with, you knew you would have to take in someone soon before you got yourself in money troubles.

Unfortunately, you couldn't compel your way through life like those pesky vampires that thought they ruled the world.

You had prayed that an actual interesting person would eventually show up at your door and it seemed like your prayers had been answered.

Your new roommate came with gorgeous oceanic blue eyes and dark locks that were styled to perfection.

He wasn't bad on the eyes, not at all.

But God... he was annoying.

You sensed he was a witch immediately and he knew it too, which was something you bonded over but there were a lot of different types of witches around.

Coming from one of the oldest witch covens in Scandinavia, you considered yourself a good witch. Somewhat.

You'd like to think you were a keeper of the balance between the supernatural and human world, but you had a past of running with vampires – up to the point where your coven had pretty much shunned you.

It was the biggest reason why you had come to the States.

Elvis was drawn to dark magic, something you stayed away from unless it was necessary to use it. In a life or death situation, for example.

Elvis wasn't a completely unpleasant person to live with – he cleaned up after himself, he'd cook when you weren't up for it and he paid his cut of the rent on time.

But when it came to his magic, it was like he had no regards for other people. He practiced whenever he felt like it and his damn crow familiar was just as careless as he was, annoying Pepper and you any chance it got.

You loved animals; adored them, really, but sometimes the temptation to snap the bird's neck was nearly unbearable.

Still, you accepted it. Pepper knew how to stand up for herself and Elvis usually got his bird away from you whenever he was on his way to your room to cause a little chaos again.

It were the nightly visits from spirits and other not-so-human creatures that really got on your nerves. When you were face to face with a random demon on your way to the kitchen to get a drink when you woke up out of your sleep, you stormed into Elvis' room.

After sending the other annoying fucker away, that was.

“Y/N, I'm kind of in the middle of somethin'," he'd exclaim in annoyance, as if he had the right to be annoyed, holding up his arms.

Surrounded by candles, he was sitting on his knees with his grimoire in front of him. Shadow, his crow, was sitting happily on the edge of his bed.

“I nearly had a heart attack on the way to the bathroom. Can you stop fucking summoning demons?”

“He was helpin' me with a spell,” rolling his eyes, he'd wave you off and lean back over his grimoire. “He ain't gonna hurt you, honey,”

You'd grow more annoyed at the pet name; you told him before you didn't like it, but he kept using them.

“I don't care, Elvis. Do that somewhere else or when I'm not home,”

“You know, as a fellow witch, I really think you should be more understanding of my practices. I ain't naggin' and hollerin' when you're drinking your smelly tea,”

He was talking about lavender tea. Idiot.

Looking at him as if he had grown two heads, you'd eventually roll your eyes and decide giving him an answer to that wouldn't be worth it. Telling him to stop once more and wishing him a good night, you'd wave your hand at his grimoire, making the pages flutter on purpose before you'd go back to bed.

You and Elvis hadn't exactly come to any agreements on that night or whatsoever, but you hadn't seen any demons lingering around, so you figured he wasn't channeling them anymore whenever you were around.

That didn't mean he didn't get less annoying, though.

Random spirits would still pop up, sometimes even in your room, and eventually getting used to it you'd send them off this room.

You didn't mind the energies in your house all too much but in the meanwhile, Shadow was getting more and more on your damn nerves.

Pepper usually didn't lick your face – being able to shift into human form, she thought it was weird – so you were surprised when you woke up one morning because of the feeling of the cat's tongue licking at your cheek as she frantically meowed in your ear.

Sitting up in your bed, you blinked your eyes a few times and then widened them as you saw Shadow fluttering and hopping through the room, making an absolute mess.

“ELVIS!”

Jumping out of your bed, you managed to grab the bird by its wings and held him in your grip as you stormed into the kitchen where Elvis was sipping on his coffee, giving you an innocent smile.

“Keep your fucking bird out of my room!”

“Don't call him a bird, he doesn't like that,” he'd whisper as he allowed Shadow to sit on his shoulder when you let him go, gently patting his little head.

Pepper sat at your feet with her tail swirled around your ankle as you'd place your hands on the small kitchen island, glaring with anger at the male witch.

“Listen, I don't give a rat's ass what your little bird does in your room, but keep him out of mine. If I find shit in there, you're both dead!”

Elvis shamelessly laughed as you pointed a finger at him, watching you walk away from him.

“Oh, I'm shakin', honey. You hear that, Shadow? The witch bitch and her cat are threatening us,” he'd mumble to the crow, chuckling as you stopped dead in your tracks. “How typical,”

Turning around, you stormed back at him, steam nearly coming out of your ears.

“Very funny coming from the guy who only knows how to summon demons and calls his crow Shadow,” you'd throw back at him with a scoff, folding your arms.

Raising his eyebrows, he'd let out a cocky laugh and put his coffee down. “You don't know what I'm capable of,”

You'd laugh and look at him expectantly, but instead he'd just give you a little grin as he told you to ‘wait and see’ before he disappeared into his bedroom to get ready for work.

Still angry, you stormed back into your own room to clean up and get ready as well. You weren't too worried about his little threat, as your ego was big enough to think you could take him on if he was being serious.

Despite being interested in dark magic, he wasn't a bad person by nature and Elvis had no intentions of actually hurting you or anything of the matter.

But he did like annoying you because he liked seeing you so riled up; it got you to pay attention to him.

And you were real pretty with your cheeks all flushed, eyes full of both frustration and surprise at his actions.

It started with little things – making himself appear in your dreams (making sure they were extra steamy), have Shadow be as loud as he could in the mornings, or simply move whatever object you were reaching for away from you.

You knew he'd probably get bored and stop if you'd stop giving him a reaction, but you were incapable of doing so. Secretly, you liked getting attention from him just as much.

When he started sacrificing chickens and small rodents in the shower and leaving the blood behind on the walls for you to clean up, you were fed up with this little ‘playful’ war.

As he was away at work, Shadow looked on as you drew a pentagram on the floor of Elvis' bedroom, candles surrounding it with a fake dead crow smack in the middle of the symbol.

You twisted the neck of the fake bird in an uncomfortable manner and splashed some blood out of one of his jars that were lined up on a shelf onto the fake bird and around it.

You rolled your eyes as you read the label on the jar, learning it was werewolf blood; dark witches were so weird.

Shadow was screeching his head off the entire time, probably not liking the little prank you were playing on his person; he had no choice than to land on your arm when you told him so. Being alone with you and a hissing Pepper at your feet, the bird was outnumbered.

“You better stay quiet, little Shadow, or I'll put you in that pentagram,” you told the bird as you sat him down on the desk in your room, pointing a finger at him. “And no making a mess or shitting all over the place or,” sliding your finger across your throat, the bird got the hint but as you tapped your finger on the tip of his beak, he nipped at your finger, his tongue coming in contact with the blood on your digit.

Pepper twirled her tail as she followed you with her chin raised, leaving Shadow behind in your room.

You left the door of Elvis' room ajar, washing your hands before you sat down on the couch with a book in your hand and Pepper laying next to you.

When Elvis came home, he was in good spirits. He greeted you happily as he threw his jacket over one of the stools by the island and whistled for Shadow, who usually would come flying out of his room to land on his arm.

When the crow was unresponsive, Elvis looked at you and you shrugged your shoulders innocently.

You watched him go into the bedroom, holding your laugh as you hid your face behind your book.

You expected him to come out and immediately see the bird was fake and the both of you would have a good laugh before he'd start scheming his next plan to get back at you.

Instead, you were taken by surprise as your book went flying out of your hands and across the room, an angry Elvis storming over to you with the bird in his hands.

“What have you done?! Are you fuckin' crazy, woman?”

He was yelling, anger swimming in his glossy eyes.

You sat there, looking up at him with guilt crawling its way into the pit of your stomach; you picked up Pepper when she hissed at Elvis and put her aside before you got up from the couch.

“Elvis-”

“No!” he'd yell, holding up his hand to stop you from coming closer to him. Your confusion only grew when he threw the bird aside and held up his bloody fingers, looking at you with wild eyes.

“Elvis, the bird is fake!” you yelled, managing to get a word in.

He let out a laugh, but you didn't recognize the emotion in it.

“You think I'm fuckin' blind? Ofcourse the bird is fake! But the blood, Y/N, the blood!”

“It's just werewolf blood, Elvis. I didn't use all of it, I'm sure you can get more from where ever the hell you got it from,”

He'd groan in frustration, as if you should be able to know what he was talking about. You didn't usually work with blood in your own craft and because this was just a prank and not an actual spell, you figured it wouldn't matter.

Turned out, you were wrong.

A loud bang came out of your bedroom and you gasped, looking at your door; the banging continued, as well as the sounds of things crashing and breaking.

“What the hell is going on?”

“The blood is spelled. I finished it just last night for a client – a werewolf client, so he wouldn't have to transform during a full moon anymore but rather at free will. It's a shapeshifting spell, Y/N,”

You weren't dumb. You knew what it meant.

Unfortunately for you and Elvis in this damned situation, it meant that with a spell like that (God knows what else Elvis put in it) the person who would drink the bloody potion was able to shapeshift whenever.

Seeing he used werewolf blood, it would shapeshift the person into or out of a wolf whenever they pleased.

Apparently, he made it in a way that it worked on animals too because the sounds coming out of your room right now definitely could not be caused by a crow.

You looked down at your hands, touching your face as you looked at Elvis with wide eyes.

“It only works by ingesting it,” rolling his eyes, he grabbed your arm as Shadow started banging against the bedroom door now, threatening to break out.

Even though the curse of the moon was created by witches, it wasn't like every werewolf hated witches – the problem was that they saw anything in sight as prey.

Before you and Elvis could think of a proper escape plan, Shadow revealed himself as a large dark wolf with glowing golden eyes as he barged through the door, making you gasp in horror.

“Tell him to change back, Elvis! It's a shapeshifting spell; the whole point of one is that it gives free will,” slapping his chest in a panic, you took a few steps back as Elvis did as well.

“He is a bird, Y/N!”

“He's your familiar, he has a soul, a conscious; tell him!"

Elvis looked down at you, letting out a soft awkward laugh as he held onto your arm the way you were holding onto his.

“Funny you mention that; he's actually just a bird, that's it. I found him a few years ago when he fell out of his nest,”

You gawked at the witch next to you, not believing what he was telling you. This fucker really just picked up a random bird from the streets and considered it its familiar.

You could just kill him right now, but there wasn't exactly time for that because you were about to get mauled by a freaking werewolf in your own living room.

You slipped your hand in Elvis', channeling his powers as you held up your other hand and he immediately did the same.

He hated doing this, but he couldn't exactly let them be killed even though he was attached to Shadow.

With both your magic combined, it seemed like your powers very were strong; the wolf didn't stand a chance as the entire ground felt as if it was shaking, the harmony of your and Elvis' chanting causing Pepper to hide away in the kitchen.

Shadow let out a strangled howl before dropping to the ground, his eyes rolling into the back of his head as his tongue drooped out of his mouth unceremoniously.

Slowly lowering your hands, you and Elvis stared at the wolf before the man next to you started moving to the animal and kneeled down next to it.

“We better get rid off him,” he whispered, the sound of sorrow in his voice making you feel even more guilty.

Although Elvis told you numerous of times that he didn't blame you, you felt bad.

Shadow might not have been a proper familiar, but you knew Elvis was fond of the bird so a few weeks later, you found yourself standing in a pet store.

You and Elvis became friends, giving up on your little war of magic, and you figured he'd like a new companion.

You chose a parrot this time; figuring he could use an upgrade from crows.

You went all out as you picked a blue and yellow macaw, getting the biggest cage you could get your hands on and everything the bird needed.

Giving him a nice spot in the living room, you spelled the poor bird to be able to speak perfectly; you wanted it to be the perfect surprise for your roommate turned friend and you weren't really looking forward to hearing them practice night and day.

As Elvis came home and saw the bird, he was taken by surprise but he was immediately taken by the animal and the animal by him.

“I'm callin' him Hades,” he'd grin as he proudly wandered around the living room with his new pet on his arm.

“Seriously?” you deadpanned with a roll of your eyes.

“You have a cat named Pepper,” he scoffed, scratching Pepper under her chin. “No offence, Pep,”

As you grew closer to Elvis, so did Pepper and she had fully accepted him – up to the point where she'd sneak into his room in the middle of the night to sleep next to him instead next to you.

You didn't mind it all too much though, knowing she'd always find her way back to you.

Things between you and Elvis were good. You weren't feeling as guilty anymore for what you did and you realised that you enjoyed being friends with him more than having him as a ‘frenemy’.

Slowly but surely, you were opening up to each other; exchanging spells, working on spells together and you becoming more open to dark magic.

You learned that dark magic wasn't always as bad as you had been taught by your (ex)coven and you realised that it actually came in handy in dangerous situations.

You were hoping that it wouldn't come to the point of actually having to use it, but a shift happened in the supernatural world in the city and it was a big one.

With a clan of ancient vampires settling in the city, everyone was on edge. Werewolves got the hell out of dodge and hid away on the outskirts of town and the witch covens started becoming suspicious of anyone and anything.

The vampires started applying rules to other supernaturals – werewolves weren't welcome at all anymore and witches weren't allowed to use magic. The penalty was simple; death.

You and Elvis didn't belong to any covens anymore. You learned that he stepped out of his previous coven on his own accord because he didn't like being watched and following rules, but right now, it caused the both of you to be outnumbered.

Most of the witches in town were too scared of the vampires to go against their rules so when you and Elvis went around to form one big coven, doors were shut in your faces every single time.

“Maybe we should pack up and leave,” you sighed heavily as you wandered back home one night with Elvis.

“Oh hell no. I ain't leavin' for a bunch of pale motherfuckers, honey. If the others don't wanna help, that's on them, but I'm getting the vampires out of here and fast,”

You'd laugh, finding his determination endearing but you didn't believe his words. You were outnumbered and even though you and Elvis were strong together, you'd stand no chance against this many vampires and whatever allies they had all at once.

You and Elvis would still do magic at home but you were too afraid to do anything outside; vampires crawled around everywhere, keeping an eye out on things and reporting back to their higher ups of anything suspicious going around.

No matter how much you hated it, you accepted the fact that you'd probably never be able to use magic outdoors as long as you lived in Memphis.

Elvis wasn't so quick to give up though and he called up every powerful being he knew would be willing to help.

When you came home from work one afternoon, your entire apartment was filled with witches, vampire hunters and a handful of werewolves, both from Memphis and other places. Weapons were spread out on the table and everything.

“We're takin' back our city tonight,” he told you with a bright smile, wiggling a wooden stake in the air.

You were nervous, maybe a little bit scared of what the night would bring but you were there among the witches nonetheless.

In the middle of the night when the humans were tucked away safe and sound in their bed, Beale Street was crawling with supernaturals.

Naturally, the commotion drew attention and it didn't take long for the vampires to show up.

You had expected there to be some exchange of words, maybe even a peaceful agreement or whatsoever but Elvis jumped into action immediately and you had no choice but to follow.

Maybe you hadn't shown it as much as Elvis did but you were just as frustrated and angry with the other species, so gradually, you started to enjoy yourself out there.

Snapping necks with just a snap of your fingers, frying vampire brains or making them bite off their own tongue.

Beale Street was painted red that night and the feeling of working together with Elvis gave you such immense power that it was nearly addicting.

You worked well together, cornering unsuspecting vampires to have them face a very gnarly end.

It was dark and evil and you enjoyed every second of it.

You kept the best for last as you and Elvis froze the leader of the vampire clan in place, making him unable to move as a werewolf pounced onto him and tore his head off.

By the end of it, you were both tired and high on adrenaline; instead of taking you home, Elvis took you and the group to the mansion known as Graceland the vampires had infiltrated when they took over the city.

“El, what are we doing here?” you'd question as you watched him open the gates of the large property with a flick of his wrist, taking you with him as he walked onto the drive way and up to the house.

“Welcome to your new home,” he simply said, smiling from ear to ear as he wrapped his arm around your shoulder. “I told you, we were taking back the city and since those fuckers are dead, we might as well take their home. All of us,”

You looked around at the other creatures around you, the vampire hunters putting the dead vampires on a pile before lighting them on fire, creating a freaky (but satisfying) bonfire.

“It may not be traditional,” he'd whisper to you, looking down at you to meet your eyes. “But we can create our own coven, our own pack. Whatever you want to call it. A family, I guess,”

“Pepper?” you questioned, moved by his words, but still worried about your familiar.

Elvis opened his mouth, but a girl beat him to it, grinning from ear to ear as she looked at you. “Right here,”

You looked at the brunette in front of you, recognizing her immediately; you laughed and hugged her. She smiled and looked at Elvis, raising an eyebrow before she'd turn back to you.

“This fool is in love with you,” she blurted out shamelessly, knowing he would otherwise never confess.

“Pepper!” he yelled in a whisper as she turned around and laughed while walking off with a wave, making him turn to you with a slightly flushed face.

“You're in love with me?”

“You know, for a witch you're very out of touch with your intuition,” he commented, wanting to continue speaking but you cut him off by pressing your lips against his.

He didn't hesitate to kiss you back, pulling you closer against him immediately.

Maybe he was right, maybe you were out of touch with your intuition, maybe you were not even a good witch at all, but you did not care at all. Life was back to normal; it was going to get even better.

“I love the house and I love the idea of all of us living here, but just promise me one thing..” you said as you pulled back from the kiss, pointing a finger at him. “No demons,”

“But you look so cute when you're mad,” he pouted, though a playful smirk appeared on his face immediately after.

“I mean it, Elvis,”

“Fine, fine, no demons,” giving you a playful roll of his eyes, he'd swing his arm over your shoulder and look at the bonfire. “Scaredy cat,”

Raising your hand a little and aiming it as his side, you made him move away from you a few feet. He'd laugh loudly and make you move forward to land against his chest with a small huff before he'd wrap his arms around you again.

“Don't start a war you can't win, honey,”

Squinting your eyes at him, you didn't even had the chance to declare another silly magic war because he was already kissing you again which you happily along with.

Perhaps it was not traditional at all. But you'd rather be part of a group that had each others back rather than in any witch coven the wouldn't allow you to be friendly with other creatures unless you had something to gain from it.

The only coven you wanted to be part of was the one with Elvis in it and even if others would step out, you knew you'd have him there and that was all that mattered.

[lost-in-sokovia]

How about forehead kisses + cheek kisses for klitz. HE’S INSECURE, HE NEEEEEDS IT.

(Anywhoooo, love your content so much and good luck with your essay! You got this bestie! 🥰💖)

god i fuckin love klitzy thank you for this, anon😩

markings

“dude, say something, would you?”

klitz blinked and looked up from his forlorn trance as eli snapped his fingers in klitz’s face. you sat next to klitz with your head propped in your hands, looking at him with concern as klitz adjusted his jacket and kept his eyes lowered. the cafeteria was loud as usual, everyone up to their own business as you and your little group of guys sat by yourselves in the swarm of rowdy high schoolers.

eli scoffed and rolled his eyes at his friend’s lack of a reply, taking a bite of the sandwich he was holding. klitz’s bangs were falling into the eyes he tried to hide and you swiped them aside, trying to lower your head and meet his gaze from the side.

“klitz, what’s wrong?” you asked quietly. eli and matt stared much it was uncomfortable, you looking to them and giving them a mind your own business look.

“nothing. y’know, just… douchebags,” he muttered. ever since the two of you started dating, klitz had been subject to more bullying than just flying under the radar. you weren’t popular by any means, but you had a bit more social status than the tripod and people took than as an opportunity to tell klitz horrid things and diminish his self esteem even lower than it already was.

“dude, don’t pay attention to those fuckers,” matt sighed. “they’re just giving you a rough time.”

klitz didn’t respond, and eli reached across the table to give him a clap on the shoulder.

“come on man, at least they recognize you’ve got a super hot girlfriend. don’t let it get you down because she’s out of your league,” eli said happily, his version of offering comfort. you glared absolute daggers at him, slightly horrified by what he said, before flipping him the bird. matt slugged him in the arm and you moved closer to klitz so your thighs and hips were touching.

“you know i think you’re the most handsome boy in the world, right?” you asked softly, placing your hands on his shoulder. he simply blinked, hiding his upset expression with his long bangs. you frowned. “tim, answer me baby,” you begged, adding his first name to show him just how serious you were.

“i don’t know why you think i am, there are so many better-looking guys than me…” he muttered back, failing at the laugh he tried to add at the end. your heart broke in your chest as you rubbed his jacketed shoulder. the boys didn’t exactly know what to say, and your anger boiled as you thought about the dipshits in the hallway who would take time out of their day just to say demeaning things to your lovely boyfriend. unfortunately, you didn’t quite know what to say either.

“klitz,” you sighed. you brushed back some of his chestnut hair and you did the only thing you thought of. you leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “i can sit here all day and tell you how handsome and pretty i think you are, but i know you’re more receptive when i show you,” you whisper. that sent a slight shiver down klitz’s spine as he sat with his back slightly hunched and gaze still downward.

you pressed gentle little kisses to his cheek before moving to his forehead. his heart tingled in his chest and you so desperately wished to make your boy feel adored and loved.

your fingers gently ran through his hair as he melted into every kiss you placed on his skin. after a few minutes you pressed one to his lips, and one of his hands moved to rub your knee. you pulled away just enough to press your forehead against his.

“i love you, timothy klitz. you’re perfect just how you are, you’re perfect just for me,” you breathed. he nodded hesitantly, unable to argue with you when you had him this lovesick. you stayed like that and closed your eyes, your hand caressing one side of his head.

“your cheeks and forehead are a bit glittery, pal,” matt cleared his throat awkwardly. you’d forgotten you were wearing lip gloss.

you giggled and klitz let out a scoff, smiling at your little markings of love you’d left on him.

[sunnygrey99]

The Silent Witch In The Woods Pt. 9

~Trigger Warning: Gore, Typical TWD warnings. Angst, Gets a little spicy but not a lot this chapter (minors DNI)~

A/N: Buckle up fuckers, we got a longer part here. It was almost twice as long because I wasn't going to split it. I have split it for the sake of Tumblr glitches, which I've noticed a lot while trying to read longer fics. If you don't want to read shameless smut this is the last chapter of this fic for now. I might make a sequel fic down the road which will be titled differently but marked as such. I hope you all enjoy the wrap-up to this first installment I guess and let me know if you'd want to see this same reader insert back in another series.

Three days pass in agonizing silence between you and Daryl, not for the lack of Daryl trying. He takes every chance he can to try to corner you and talk to you. Hating the feeling of being completely ignored and at a loss of how to fix it, he turns to his best friends who unfortunately are using his situation to make fun of him.

The familiar chuckles of Rick and Glenn pull him out of his thoughts. Rick’s southern voice coming up first. “Come on now Daryl, it ain’t the end of the world she’s just mad. She’ll get over it eventually.” 

Next comes Glenn’s torturous comments, “Not according to Maggie. She is straight up stone walling him, and I mean you do kind of deserve it.” His shrug just makes the deep pit Daryl is sinking in feel like its pulling him under even faster. 

He rolls his eyes at the pair, “I ain’t done nothin’ wrong.”

“Bullshit.” Glenn plops down next to him on the porch’s steps. “You don’t remember screaming at her for no reason?”

“I had plenty of reason” He huffs out gruffly.

“Naw, you were concerned but that ain’t good enough” Rick chirping in makes him doubt himself more alreading having felt the guilt over his actions since the moment he yelled at you. 

Maggie walks out the front door and stomps past Daryl and Glenn. “Ya know its way more than that Daryl. You should have known better to completely ignore her like you did. That really hurt her. That was her biggest problem when she was first settlin’ in. Bein’ treated like she is a child or if you just don’t look at her then she doesn’t exist. Ya basically took her voice away all over again, and you didn’t think that wasn’t cruel or wrong in anyway?” She stands there with her hands on her hips and a glare in her eyes that could strike fear in the devil himself before her gaze switches over to Glenn. Her finger pointing to him before speaking sternly. “You know what you did too so don’t be actin like you are any better Rhee” With that she walks off to do her daily duties or alteast what she can with her growing babybump. 

Both Rick and Daryl look at Glenn with concern and a hint of humor at his situation. Before they all look back to the approaching footsteps and seeing Maggie again. “Oh and Daryl fix it and then ask the poor girl out. I ain’t never seen two people so infatuated with each other and yet so damn stubborn.” She huffs off again with purpose leaving Daryl somehow even more stunned. 

With that Rick and Glenn both burst out laughing at Daryl’s expense. “The hell you two laughin’ at?”

Rick wipes a spare tear from escaping his eye as he laughs. “Nothin’ just she’s right.”

Glenn looks over at Daryl and his laugher slowly dies off as he realizes. “Holy shit you really dont see it do you?”

“Huh? Whataya mean?” His face contorts in confusion at the two men. Both of them look to each other and then back to Daryl. 

“You really haven’t seen how she looks at you?” Glenn’s reaction leaves Daryl only to slowly shake his head. 

“Sometimes its real sweet like you mean everything to her. Othertimes we all feel like we need to give you two the whole room alone.” Rick leans against the cold siding of the house. 

Glenn chuckles again at the statement “Yeah. It’s like she’s undressing you completely in her head and then some.” 

The thought of you even possibly thinking of him in that way has Daryl blushing like a middle schooler. It was a lot of information at once, and a lot of feelings he wasn’t expecting to have to deal with. The noise of his two friends talking back and forth starts to fade away as he realizes that he is already walking to the infirmary. He passes by the resident doctor and a couple of people before making it to your office and opening the door and nearly slamming it shut behind him. He spots you slowly standing from your desk and looking at him with a bit of surprise but mostly still anger. 

His feet carry him to just infront of you backing you against the wall. One hand goes for your hip and the other cupping your cheek as he quickly pulls you in for a heated and yet tentative kiss. The second his skin touches yours is like every nerve in your body shivers with an intense electricity. It has you frozen and confused for the first few seconds before you melt into the somehow comforting feeling. Seconds or minutes pass by before nearly running out of air, and the two of you part slightly and he rests his forehead against yours. “I’m sorry. I should’nt’a treated ya like that. I ain’t ever gonna do that again, Promise. I…Please stop ignorin’ me”

It takes about 10 seconds of you searching his face and tone for any deception on his part. You fail to find any. Nodding you pull him back in crashing your lips against his again. The electricity still coursing your veins and intensifying in the places that your skin touches his. His hand griping further and tighter at your waist while the other sneaks into your hair, tugging slightly at the base as he nips at your bottom lip. Only the faintest gasp comes from you as your hips rut against nothing looking for some relief. Finally you have to pull yourself away from the man who seems to want nothing other than to continue trying to meld your bodies together. 

Your chest and his both rise and fall in unison at the exertion. The only thing running through your mind God I wish I could just let you fuck me right here. At the end of the thought, you see Daryl’s eyebrows shoot up and you hear his voice but see no movement of his lips, What the fuck…

It leaves you confused for only a few moments before putting two and two together. Holy shit Daryl can you hear me? His head nods slowly before he squints at you “What the hell is happenin’? Is this normal?” 

You can’t help the grin that plasters on your face as you pull out your thick book of shadows from your bag. Flipping through it to find the right page and showing him what was written from a few generations before you. You shove the book towards him and give Daryl time to absorb the information.

He looks back up to you waiting for an explanation. You quickly bring your hands up to sign not quite used to the bond yet and not wanting to freak Daryl out any further than necessary. It's an explanation for the weird shocks I feel whenever we touch, and why I was able to find your camp so easily. I scryed for less than 20 seconds but usually, something like that could take way longer. It's also how you found me in the woods in the beginning. I had so many wards around that it should have been nearly impossible for you to end up there, but you did. 

“Wait…Does that mean I’m like you? Was this on accident? Do ya……want this?” His voice is nearly hushed and you can feel a wave of guilt wash over the new link from him. 

You quickly place a hand on his shoulder to have him look at you, pushing through the link with your own emotion to soothe him. It might have been an accident but I’d rather it have been you than anyone else. Unfortunately, I don’t think you can use Magick though. The words being bounced into his own head seem to wash away some of the guilt he feels but he seemingly is going to need help controlling his side of the link. 

The most pressing emotion he has now has you confused before you remember what the two of you had started right before the binding took over. You feel the intense heat of a blush rush over you and unfortunately, slip through the link as well. Biting your lip and leaning back into Daryl you choose your next words carefully before pressing through the bond, How about we take this back to the house? My shift was almost over anyway. Daryl makes no noise before grabbing your hand and all but dragging you back to the house.

Part 10

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