Fuck It We Ball [I Don't Wanna Keep Rewriting It 9373838 Times So I'll Just Edit It While It's Up]

Okay, hear me out: Kyle Pick-Up Artist Garrick. In the sense that he is an expert at dates. Has the routine down to a T. Could become one of those douchey pick-up artists on TikTok, but he’s really doing this for the ladies, okay? Raising their standards and all.

Offers to pick you up. Shows up with a bouquet of flowers with soft colors and pastels—whites, light pinks, and light yellows. Tulips, baby’s breath, peonies. When you open the door, he’s gonna whistle lowly and exhale a huff of laughter. "Sorry, I just… wow. You look amazing." Picks out one flower from the bouquet and places it behind your ear.

Holds the elevator open, opens the door to the car—because he isn’t an amateur. Hand on your thigh, but nearer to your knee because he’s a gentleman, but he still wants you to know how much he wants you. Practiced, occasional glances at you in the rearview mirror, followed by a bashful-looking away when he sees you notice.

Pulls out the chair for you. Holds your hand the entire dinner. Maybe his ankles are brushing yours. Makes you laugh the whole time. (So what if he uses the same jokes? That’s between him and the staff at his favorite restaurant.) Feeds you his dessert with his spoon, and then licks the spoon clean.

Waits for you to go to the bathroom to pick up the check. If you don’t go to the bathroom, he’s gonna pretend to instead. You ask him about the check, and he refuses to elaborate further. Just has a lopsided grin on that beautiful face. Infuriating, really. Wraps his jacket around you so you don’t get cold. Lifts you up princess-style if you say you’re too tired to walk in your heels.

Pulls you in for a chaste, soft goodnight’s kiss at your door. Hand on the small of your back, arms bringing you closer, almost in a hug. Groaning softly into the kiss. He knows exactly the angle at which he needs to tilt his head, exactly the amount of tongue he needs to be using.

Steps away politely, but his big brown eyes look up at you. Of course, you ask him to come in. How could you not? He’s such a gentleman. And he comes in, and he backs you into a corner softly until you sit. Kneels and takes your heels off, kissing his way up your leg. He can almost smell it on you.

The night goes exactly the way he wants it to, with your clothes on the floor of your bedroom and you in his arms.

What a shame you can’t find him when you wake up in the morning, right?

Sex pollen this, mpreg that, how about he gets a period huh. What's he gonna do then. Imagine blorbo getting fucking blasted or some shit and its like- a 30 year old man getting his first period. What. Huh. Why does it hurt so much. Why's he so mad and sad and fuck :[ he doesn't know what to do. What is this.

Hear me out.

Wait. No. Pipe down and listen.

Its getting to be that time of year again. Where the sun might as well be just five feet away. Y'know what that means. Falling asleep in the sun. Also. Fics about it.

Had this idea for a while now-

Reader joining the group in season 1 or 2, and yeah everything's okay and stuff but they like. Do not trust Rick. At all. Not because he's a bad person or anything personal, but he's a cop. And they carry really bad experiences with officers/enforcers of law. And Daryl just gets that, yk. Trauma bond n stuff. Like maybe they have a shared experience trying to call the cops for help but it only made their situation worse.

Y'all ever wanna pull an 'erm, akshually-' when reading a fanfic when you see something scienfically wrong or is it just me. I mean no disrespect whatsoever please I love you all you're amazing, but my mind just automatically goes 'well akshually 🤓👆 you can't survive that long bleeding out-' SHHHH BRAIN SHHHH

what’s the vibe of your blog. everyone has their own. is it an art gallery exhibit serving canapés. a nightclub. a knights of the round table situation. a book discussion meeting. a lonely hearts club newspaper section. a bedroom where you and two friends are chatting. the school of athens debating matters of consequence. a garden tea party. a bacchanal. an agatha christie murder novel style tense dinner party. etc

Something something yadda yadda where Daryl has Dog and you also have a dog but where he was expecting you to also have a large breed like a husky or a german shephard, you have a demonic chihuahua.

"What. The fuck."

"What?"

"Why-" he sighs, running a hand through his hair and watching as their two dogs meet, hoping they don't start a fight. "When you said you also had a dog, I kinda thought it would at least be more... practical."

You give a playful scoff, crouching down and cupping your chihuahua's face affectionately as if it didn't look like it would viciously bite the next person or thing it saw. "Practical? They're perfectly fine, aren't you, *mi perrito*?"

Daryl watches you with an amusing mix of confusion and reluctant acceptance, his own dog sitting tall by his side as if mildly offended at having met the much tinier creature.

Totally self indulgent but hey, that's the point, innit?

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Daryl who has a western partner, who isn't used to snow. Waking up and they're just frozen [haha] in awe staring at the soft pieces of ice drifting from the sky. Asking why they need such heavy clothing until they actually get outside because they're so used to the temperature being high as hell. Daryl teasing about not being able to handle the cold, shivering like some wet cat.

Daryl with a western partner who'll casually slip in some Spanish without realizing it, because they grew up with a lot of mixed culture or they grew up Mexican themselves. Rolling their R's and having that slight accent that makes people question where exactly they're from. Daryl glancing at them with a subtle confusion when they mumble under their breath, "Where's the, uh- *cómo se llama, manzanas-* the apples?"

Daryl with a western partner who sometimes talks much too fast for everyone else to understand. Ranting about something they're excited about only to pause because everyone's staring like they just started speaking Martian. Daryl having to lightly nudge them midsentance because they don't realize they're *only getting faster* from excitement/anxiety/just fumbling with words.

Daryl with a western partner who bite back a laugh at their pronunciations. The two are out on a run and they're just talking when they just turn away with a muffled snicker, Daryl giving them a lightly offended 'what?'

"Wait, wait, just- repeat that."

"Repeat what? 'We need'a find som'more oil 'fore the night'?"

"Oh, darlin'. *'Ole?'*"

"Shut up. How do you say it?"

"Oil. Like oy-l."

"'S not two syllables, idiot."

In turn, Daryl also teasing them for the way they'll say 'like' a lot or say 'y'all'd've'.

reblog if you wear glasses. too many mutuals don't know they have glasses wearers in their midsts

I *swear* I've been writing, I'm just... (looks at my overflowing unfinished works) ...getting distracted