#anyway. damn thas hot

[forged-in-kaoss]

[honkowo]

wheeeee figured out a couple of plants for angel homeworld!!!! + a little beast youll find in just about every biome on that damn planet

cherubs are the result of a wild subspecies of angel mixing naturally w a meat car(this was not intentional). cherubs build their nests via ripping up/off whatever plantmatter is available. nestbuilding is a group effort, often involving 30-50 cherubs building elaborate structures in whatever crack, crevice or cave system is available. angels use these guys to teach their children about teamwork & the importance of choir-building(which may or may not involve colourful puppet cherubs lmao).

the 2 plants shown here(1 moreso than the other) are seen most often on angel homeworld. one is a single leathery leaf that joins up with others of its species to create giant colonies of the same plant. angels often uproot them due to the fact that they make climbing cliffsides really fucking difficult(they r both tightly joined together & VERY SLIPPERY). the other plant is a treelike plant that grows inbetween cliffs & large crevices. their stringy bark is favoured by cherubs.

[seilon]

every newer gen kpoppy who calls it revolutionary every time a big name bg member wears something vaguely skirt-like should be required to watch lee sungjong of infinite putting his whole pussy into performing coming of age ceremony by park jiyoon wearing the song's classic form-fitting black side-slitted dress with zero gimmicks way back in 2012

[corvidcrossbow]

~•♡•~ Intruders

➳ Summary: Getting moments to yourselves is hard when you have pets (Daryl x Fem!Reader)

➳ Setting: Alexandria, anytime during 6 year timeskip or after

➳ Word count: 1.6k

➳ C/W: Half-assed oral (f!receiving) & p in v

➳ A/N: I just wanted regular casual sex smut (I'm lazy) (By lazy I mean I have like 40 drafts but I'm so busy for the next two weeks I'm going crazy) (I had to take a picture of my own damn socks for this ☠️)

Daryl's hands dragged roughly over your clothed waist, you giggling some against his lips then cheek as he hastily stumbled down the hall with you towards your bedroom, kisses moving down to your jawline as his groping descended to your ass.

“God, sunshine… yer so damn sexy,” He mused, shoving open the door and hitting his heel back against it in an attempt to get it to shut, too focused on peeling your shirt away to take note of any success: closely followed by his own. “Make me need ya so bad.”

Just as he pushed you down, landing you on your back with your legs dangling over the edge of the mattress, a brown blur bounded into the room and up onto the bed.

“Nah-, Dog-.. stop tha’!” Daryl grunted, waving his hand while the shepherd was basically stepping all over you, excitedly wagging his tail and mouth hanging open as he tried to lick your face.

“Hey buddyyy,” You purred, bringing hands to both sides of his head and rapidly scratching the fluffy fur beneath his ears, forcing him back a little so he wasn't directly in your space.

“Don’ indulge him. Want ‘em outta ‘ere!”

“You didn't close the door.” You couldn't hide your playful grin as you sat up, ruffling the dog's scruff and laughing as Daryl scoffed, clapping his hands to try and redirect Dog’s focus from you.

“I tried. Now c'mon … Dog, c'mon. Out.” He patted his back a couple times, earning a look and light cocking of his head. The man raised his eyebrows, snapping his fingers and aggressively pointing towards the exit. “Out.”

Dog turned, nearly hitting you in the face with his tail and jumping from the bed, trotting out of the room as Daryl immediately shut the door behind him. He spun back on his heels, undoing his belt as he'd been intending to before and dropping his jeans to pool on the floor.

He loomed over you, finding your lips in another kiss as he worked the button on yours and helped you wriggle out, hoisting you up the bed so your head rested on the pillows. “See? Got fur all over yer tits. Gon’ have'ah hairball lickin’ it all away.”

“I dunno, maybe you'll be a hot dry-heaver, archin’ yer back ‘n all.”

“Shuddup.” He shook his head, pressing a wet kiss to your neck that cut off your taunting giggle by drawing out a moan. His palms smoothed up the curves of your figure, reaching under and undoing the clasp of your bra before tossing it aside.

“M'tha only one who should be all over these like tha,” Daryl murmured, cupping both breasts and smothering his face between them before taking one of your nipples into his mouth and rolling the other between calloused fingertips.

“Mmm, mhm? They all yours Dixon?” You trilled, to which he gave an affirming grunt and sucked a bit harder, sliding a hand down under the hem of your panties and beginning to circle your clit.

As he was starting to set his rhythm, there was an odd scratching at the door and the sound of metal clicking, before it burst open and Dog came running right back into the room, shoving his maw into Daryl's face and driving him back as he tried to pounce on him.

“How tha hell ya-? Dog, stop.”

You were snickering at this point, propping up on your elbows to watch, Daryl leaning up and straddling you as he tried to ward the canine off. “Did you lock the door?”

He bowed his head a little, failing at obscuring his embarrassment with his hair. “Thought I did…. He'sa dog anyway! Shouldn't be openin’ damn doors..”

“He's a smart dog, baby. Don't know whatcha expect from him.”

“I expect him tah not break in ‘ere like ‘es rabid or sum'thin’,” He huffed, slouching for a moment in defeat before grabbing the dog and gently pushing him off the bed, a little harder when he resisted. “Dog. S'aint gon kill ya tah be outta tha room fer thirty minutes.”

“That's cause he knows ‘thirty minutes’ turns into two hours.” Daryl gave you a look, and you traded back an innocent but knowing smile. He begrudgingly swung his leg to have them on one side, sliding off the bed and forcing Dog with him: placing hands on either side of his chest and literally walking him out of the room, once again closing the door, and putting emphasis on the little ‘clink’ when he set the lock.

He let out an exasperated sigh, resuming his position but skipping ahead on his ministrations, having grown impatient. He hooked fingers around the band of your panties, groaning a little at the way you wiggled while he brought them down, flirtatiously biting your lip and covering your breasts.

“Don’ be actin’ like'ah tease.” He parted your legs, hands feeling over your hips and thighs while he lowered his head and drew a slow lick up your center to spread your folds, openly moaning at the taste.

“Fine. Only now cause Dog's been doin’ it for me,” You chuckled, and the archer just narrowed his brows, grasping harder at your flesh as he traced circles around your clit before lapping again and sucking it into his mouth.

“Ya always so fuckin’ wet for me, always gon’ love tha’,” Daryl hummed, tugging you flush against his mouth and delving into your enterace for a quick moment with the thrust of his tongue. Your fingers wove through the roots of his locks, and his eyes flicked up to meet yours. “You gon’ tell me how good it feels tah have me eat'cher perfect pussy?”

You opened to respond, but were interrupted by an obnoxiously loud whimper outside the door, left saying his name for the wrong reason: “Dar…”

“I know, jus’ ignore it,” He said, voice muffled against you, trying to hone both your attentions only on the feeling of his tongue working your core. But the malinois grew noisier, scratching at the hardwood floor and struggling to shove his nose beneath the small gap in the doorframe.

“Daryl.”

He groaned deeply, placing another kiss to your cunt before releasing his hold and unwinding his arms, going to deal with it. “Ts'aint tha kinda whinin’ I wanna be hearin’.”

Turning the handle just slightly to shoo him, Dog barged right back in again, leaped onto the bed again, and just twirled around with a clueless grin to look back at Daryl, confused with how displeased he appeared. He took steps towards the shepherd, hands out, and Dog growled just a little when he moved to rid you of him.

“Ay! Ts'ma woman! Not yers. Get tha hell outta here ‘nd quit buggin’ me,” The man snapped, Dog completely unphased as if the frustration in his tone didn't resonate at all. Daryl gave up and grumbled something under his breath, going to the top drawer of your shared dresser and retrieving a pair of his socks.

He dangled it in the air, the pup immediately locking in on it like he was hypnotized. He barked once, excitedly following as Daryl walked down the hall and threw the bundle down the stairs, which was essentially throwing them into the pits of Hell. Far too many pairs of his socks had met grim fates when Dog would steal them from the laundry, either of you finding him later surrounded by shreds of fabric. But the sacrifice was necessary.

“Lemme have sum damn privacy when Ah'm with yer ma!” He shouted down the steps as that brown flash scurried to descend them. He scoffed again and how simply Dog'd abandoned his efforts, then returned to you, closing the door and locking it once more.

“You finally get him gone?” You taunted as Daryl discarded his boxers and settled over top of you and between your legs once more, silencing your amused remarks as his mouth found yours. You latched your arms around his neck, bringing him close to deepen the kiss as he slicked the tip of his near weeping cock between your folds, edged by all the disturbances.

He waited for a few seconds, like he expected something more, then thrusted into you, head falling to your chest with a pleasure-filled exhale. He maintained the stillness, another beat passing.

“Jus’ go, angel. He's distracted,” You reassured him with a kiss to his hairline, and slowly he pulled back before rocking in again. Daryl kept a steady hand on your hip, the other propping him up by your shoulder as he began to relax, garnering speed and listening to every filthy noise your bodies made when you connected, his grunts reverberating against your collarbone.

“That's the kinda gruntin’ I wanna be hearin’.” Daryl chucked at your comment, palm leaving your curve so the pad of his thumb could press against your clit, massaging it in pace with his movements and drawing out a whine from you.

He threw his head back to clear the strands of hair from his face, looking down to watch you for a moment; watch himself disappear in and out of your walls then came near again. “Shit, ya feel so fuckin’ good…”

But then another something hopped onto the opposite side of the bed, much lighter and more sophisticated. Door was still shut, still locked.

“Sweetheart… you forgot the cat.”

Daryl didn't even glance back, rolling his eyes and muttering another curse. “Ion even care anymore.” And he just found you in another kiss.

©corvidcrossbow 2024. I do not give permission for my works to be copied, modified or adapted to other platforms. My work may be translated only if asked and with proof of given consent.

[shookuna]

// HEATWAVE! // T FUSHIGURO

a/n: first post on tha new blog !!! eeee !!! this is dedicated to the lovely mickey @teddybeartoji <3 ty for being my FIRST OFFICIAL MOOT ! MY DAYONE ! take a lil soft!toji fic pls and thank u 🤲

wc: ~ 1k oops

summary: tired grumpy bf!toji is needy and annoying w/o cuddles. cw: nsf(w) ment, plus some tooth-rotting fluff <3

cuddling with toji was becoming a rare occurrence.

it was mid-july and swelteringly hot outside, even in the wee hours of the night. the a/c in your shared apartment was threatening to give out, and the shitty fan toji sloppily assembled did little to improve matters. so, deviating from your usual routine, you and toji fell asleep on opposite sides of the bed.

toji noticed the distance immediately, cracking one eye open to find you not curled into his side, like usual. the sight of you dead to the world, hair messily splayed across the pillow was enough to make his heart flutter. but even still, a frown tugged at the corner of his lips.

because goddammit, you did not get him used to this "cuddling" shit just to bail on him now.

you and toji met months ago at the dawn of fall, when the days were getting shorter and the nights were growing colder. your relationship was initially a fateful coincidence, a grocery store meet-cute that was as romantic as it was awkward. his series of brazen pick-up lines went right over your head (surely, you assumed, no one would tell you how good you'd look receiving backshots in the fucking frozen food aisle) but you still ended up giving toji your number that day.

and he's never been a religious man, but he was praising every god in the damn sky that you did.

one date was all it took for both of you to be locked in. he was a bad habit, an itch you couldn't help but scratch, irresistible. he was reckless, cocky at best and an asshole at worst, everything you weren't. needless to say, dating toji was against your better judgment. but for him, being with you was the first good decision he's made in a long time.

that's not to say things were perfect, or even easy. being with someone like you was so unfamiliar for someone like toji. loving you came as easy as breathing, but choosing you, choosing to work towards being a better version of himself... that was hard as shit. even small things took time, like physical intimacy. his body count was through the roof, so he had no issue when it came to having sex with you - but affection was a whole different story. it made him feel like he was in someone else's skin, someone weaker, someone who needed to be taken care of. it took til' mid-december, when the temperatures were practically sub-zero and frost crusted the ground, to get toji to warm up (no pun intended) to cuddling.

and now you'd gone and gotten him attached to this shit just to leave him high and dry?!

it didn't matter that your boyfriend was practically a walking furnace, heat radiating off of him in waves when he caged you in his strong arms. temperature be damned, toji thought, you started this, so you had to finish it.

"wake up." his gruff voice sounded out, a stark departure from the blanket of silence the night offered. when you only stirred slightly, he gave you a little shake. "oi, get y'r ass up. i'm talkin t' you."

at that firmer command, you rose your head, a displeased frown taking the place of your previous serene expression. "fushiguro, what in the ever-loving fuck are you doing waking me up at..." you paused, fumbling for your phone on the nightstand and checking the time. "...at three in the damn morning."

"don't gimme that shit. girl bye," toji grumbled, not sparing you so much as an apology for disturbing your sleep. you simply gave him a deadpan stare, making him scoff and roll over to his other side. "'s fine, not like i needed to hold ya to fall asleep anyway." he muttered bitterly into the pillow.

your eyes were already halfway closed when he turned around, but they immediately shot open when you heard his grumblings.

"what did you say? you need to cuddle me to fall asleep?" you perk up, pressing your hands on his shoulders to coax him into turning back around.

"i sure as hell didn't say 'cuddle'," he groused, but still turned around anyways. his voice might have sounded annoyed, but you knew your toji. the flicker of warmth in his eyes told you everything you needed to know.

"heh, you said it just now, dummy." you grinned as you snuggled up to toji's chest, earning a flick to your forehead from the man in question. but you were unbothered, simply humming, "thought ya didn't like cuddling."

"y'r makin' assumptions," toji grumbled, the low, gravelly timbre of his voice sending shivers down your spine. "now quiet down so i can sleep."

at that, you scoffed in playful offense. "so you can sleep? you literally just woke me u-" you started, but he silenced effortlessly by pressing his lips against yours in a lazy, heated kiss.

when he pulled away, chest heaving with each hot puff of air, you were warm from way more than just the heat outside.

"go the fuck to sleep before i put you to sleep myself." he growled out, but there was no malice in his words - more of an invitation than a threat.

deciding to resist temptation this time, you settled back into his hold, your back flush against his chest. as you began to fade back into sleep, you heard toji whisper out, "meant what i said, y'know that? can't... can't sleep w' out you now."

the next words out of your mouth were simple, but they were all it took to put him at ease.

"i know, toji."

dawww <33 hope u like this fic everyone (esp mickey mwah mwah mwah) reblogs + comments appreciated !!

© shookuna ! toji header edited by me too tehe

[pedroshotwifey]

Hello

My drabble ask is infidelity 🫣 with Joel.. but readers current bf is really toxic and doesn't treat her well and she's planning on leaving him anyway and Joel says that he doesn't want to share and that he wants to be with her 🥺

Oh I can't tell you how excited I was for this 😈 I might have to make another infidelity fic bc holy shit 👀 (obviously I don't condone this behavior irl, but ooo is it hot in fic)

*****

“Oh shit,” Joel grunts. “Little wider for me, baby, you’re too fuckin’ tight. Poor lil pussy ain’t been gettin’ fucked right.” 

Your face heats at his words, but you obey, whimpering as you help him spread your legs further apart, your muscles aching in a delicious way paired with his cock dragging in and out of your slick cunt. Your back arches, your head getting thrown back onto your pillow as he hits something devastatingly deep inside of you. 

“Fuck, Joel,” you whine, pussy fluttering around him. You feel like all your senses have been cut off, your sole focus on the way he’s stretching you out for him. 

“Tha’s right, baby, call my name. Sounds better than that fuckin’ boy you think’s so good for ya. You know he can’t make you feel like this. His dick’s probably as shriveled as his damn brain.”

You hate the way your pussy clenches upon hearing Joel talk shit about your boyfriend. It’s wrong—god, it’s so wrong—but it feels so fucking good. You know he can hear the way you fake coming around Liam’s cock most nights, knows the difference between the way you moan Joel’s name so gutterally and the way you have to say your boyfriend’s like it’s an obligation—a chore. 

It took him a few weeks to get you into his bed. A few weeks of him comforting you after fights and tantrums from your boyfriend. A few weeks of you trying to hold back your lustful gaze from your much older next door neighbor. A few weeks of you ignoring how he looked at you the same way. 

It took your boyfriend hitting you for you to finally listen to what Joel was telling you, what you knew was true. 

Joel was there waiting at his door when he saw Liam leave the apartment. It’s a good thing he didn’t see what happened before, because he probably would have killed him. You slept with him that night not only to distract him from your freshly blackened eye, but also because you came to that realization. 

Joel would do things for you that your boyfriend would never even consider. It wasn’t until he split you open on his cock for the first time, gave you four orgasms, then fed you, showered you, and held you tenderly until you fell asleep, that you understood that’s what you deserve. What Joel kept insisting you deserve. 

You deserve the way he’s making you drool right now, using your legs as leverage to pummel into you at an ungodly pace. You deserve the way you both fall apart at the same time, clinging to each other and moaning and licking into each other’s mouths like you’re trying to consume each other. You deserve the way Joel showers you in dirty praise as you pant and catch your breath after coming for a third time. 

And Joel deserves the way you’re going to go back to your apartment and pack your shit tonight.

****

More drabbles here

[gutsby]

Mr. Dixon

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader

Summary: Your efforts to seduce the DILF next door have all failed spectacularly, so you decide a wet hot car wash in front of his house is in order. Mr. Dixon is less than impressed with your antics and plans to teach you a lesson in good manners and ‘neighborliness.’

Warnings: NSFW. Dad's friend Daryl! Drastic age gap!! Daryl's a dirty old pervert in this one :-) Voyeurism. Masturbation. Descriptions of oral sex (m!receiving). Dirty talk. Degradation. Slight misogyny. Daryl may or may not masturbate out a window at some point.

You had an old pair of Daisy Dukes and a dream.

Faded, frayed, and two times too small for your frame, the shorts hiked an inch up your ass every step you took across the room. Made it damn near pointless bending over before the man in front of you—he could see every inch of your butt regardless—but you did it all the same.

This was Mr. Dixon, after all.

Cool blue orbs illumined by candlelight took the sight of you in and flitted away just as fast. His hands busied themselves with the gun he was taking apart, while you reached for the bullet that had just rolled onto the floor.

“Here you go, Mr. Dixon.”

Your voice had a charming lilt as you held the round out to him.

“Over there,” Daryl grumbled, jerking his head toward the end of the table, “An’ what’d I say ‘bout callin’ me tha’?”

“I feel weird calling daddy’s friends by their first names.”

You shrugged and chucked the tiny piece of lead into the pile of ammunition like Daryl had told you to. Then you sat down beside it, crossing your arms.

He could be so cruel sometimes. Just fooling with his pistol and barking orders like a drill sergeant. Never looking at you longer than a second, and if he did, just shooting you a glare or wounding you with a scowl.

He’d been the toughest nut to crack out of all your father’s friends. No matter how straight-laced and upstanding the men around Mr. Grimes had made themselves out to be, you’d always found the fault line—the weak spot that got you access to the filthiest parts of each one. You’d teased and you’d flirted, earned a couple groping touches and open-mouthed caresses from the likes of the late Mr. Walsh and many others. But never Mr. Dixon.

Even now, sitting across from him in your skimpy Wrangler cut offs, wedges, and a skintight, starch white tank top stretched so tight over your tits the fabric was practically see-through, it was like you were invisible to him. You kicked your feet out in front of you as they dangled from the table and actually felt yourself pout at the feeling of frustration bubbling in your chest.

“I wanna help.” Sounding pitiful.

“No use,” Daryl said as he studied the barrel of the gun with an inscrutable expression, “Already told yer dad, ain’ no use for little girls on the range.”

Your nostrils flared as you started back on your feet.

“I am plenty useful, Mr. Dixon. And I— I’m not the little girl you think I am,” you fired back, sounding more miserable and juvenile with every word you spoke.

At the last, Daryl looked you up and down. It was hardly more than a passing glance, but deliberate enough to be expressive. Emotive.

He looked repulsed by you.

And, rather than dignify you with a response, he simply discarded his firearm on the table and left the room. You trailed behind him into the kitchen and watched him swing the refrigerator door wide on its hinges. Blue eyes surveying the shelves for a can of PBR, most likely.

“I can do anything you need me to,” you rejoined in a huff, desperate to be heard, “I’m twice the shot my old man ever was at my age, I can track if I need to— hell, I’m always doin’ stuff, Mr. Dixon. Things.”

You weren’t sure what rattling off your talents to a man who clearly had no interest in hearing them would accomplish, but you tried it anyway. You sounded like your father. When both of Mr. Dixon’s eyebrows raised in mock surprise and he plopped down on a bar stool opposite you, you wanted to melt right into the floor.

“Doin’ stuff, huh? Thangs?” he mocked your twang.

You gripped the door frame so tight your knuckles turned white. Daryl took a couple swigs of beer and stared you down through every swallow. He brought the can back to the counter, near-empty now, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

“I got a couple thangs for ya ta do,” he started, grinning, “Why don’t ya put those pretty hands ta work, throw a little apron on, and just...bake me a fuckin’ cake?”

“Funny,” you spat. You felt a surge of bile rise in your throat at the sight of his smug expression.

“Wash my car?”

“Fuck you.”

Daryl’s amusement only grew as the forbidden F-bomb flew from your lips—a word he knew Rick would never tolerate if you’d been in his presence. Presently, his eyes raked over your slight, shaking form at the threshold of the room and figured himself pretty lucky to have provoked such a strong reaction from you. He polished off the last of his drink in a single gulp.

“No need ta get all foul-mouthed, Ms. Grimes, I only—”

“Fuck. You.” Your reply came slower and a touch more measured than he’d expected. Even punctuated with a hint of a smile, making sure to stretch that Southern drawl when you added, “Dar-yl.”

It was the first time you’d ever used his first name.

You weren’t sure you liked it.

Daryl, on the other hand, felt quite certain the sound of his name suited your mouth just fine. A subsequent stir in his jeans wiped the smirk clean off his face, and he began to shift in his seat.

Before he could speak, you were already turning on your heels to leave. Formalities escaped quicker than your anger, and your fingers seemed to move of their own accord to flip Daryl off over your shoulder as you strode out the door, far out of his sight.

Meanwhile, and much to his chagrin, Mr. Dixon was already growing ill with the sounds of your parting wishes bouncing loud off the walls of his skull. Before the front door had even closed, his fingers, too, seemed to move involuntarily and do a thing they probably shouldn’t have done: touch the mound in his jeans.

He rubbed his clothed erection and groaned.

You were such a fucking brat.

Daryl had always thought with a father as eagle-eyed and attentive as Rick, you’d never reach this level of naughty, haughty, and straight up cunt-like, but here you were. Doing Lori proud the way you’d gotten another one of Rick’s best friends wrapped around your little finger.

You were good like that, and still too dense to understand a fraction of the effect you had on him while you did it. The way you’d been looking at him earlier, Daryl was sure you’d convinced yourself he hated you.

If you could only see him now, spitting in one hand and unzipping his fly with the other, freeing his cock, and finally, finally getting his fingers wrapped fast around his shaft with the sole thought of you on his mind as he did. If you could watch him shudder, close his eyes, draw a deep, jagged breath through his nose to scour the air for the faintest trace of your scent lingering there—maybe you’d get it.

Daryl slid his hand down his cock and exhaled a shaky breath. You would simply never “get it,” because he’d already promised himself he wouldn’t let that happen.

As his thumb grazed the head of his red-hot, leaking cock and imagined it was your tongue doing all the work, he had to remind himself this was nothing but a fantasy for him. There was just no way in hell he’d sink to Shane’s level and actually lay his hands on you, no—he was better than that.

He was a man of principle, furiously jerking his cock in his kitchen with the thought of his best friend’s daughter on his mind. He just couldn’t touch you.

Damn if those tits didn’t sit nice under that top, no bra to hold ‘em in. And those shorts…

Daryl felt his head drop back as a wave of pleasure coursed up his spine. In his mind, you were sucking him now, hollowing those soft, sweet cheeks around his member and bobbing your head up and down, again and again, eyes never leaving his. Maybe you’d know to cup his balls, use your tongue to draw a couple lazy shapes down his cock. Any way you wanted it done was exactly how Mr. Dixon needed it, he’d decided.

He squeezed his eyes shut even tighter and fucked his hand like a man half his age.

Someone like you.

Scarcely nineteen and so oversexed they might burst.

The difference was Daryl would explode any second now; he had only to hunch over, pump himself a few more times, and finally shoot his load, pretending it was spraying your insides and not the floor of his kitchen.

He’d intended to do just that, clenching his jaw at the filthiest thoughts of you yet, when suddenly, a sound shook the house.

Daryl dropped his cock and looked right out the window.

Down below, outside, you’d laid heavy on your car horn. Let the noise blare a couple seconds before Daryl came bounding over to the window.

When he did, the man thought his legs might buckle.

You were standing beside his truck in the driveway, sponge in hand, soaked head-to-toe in water and soap and smiling brighter than he’d ever seen you. The fabric above your tits was translucent now, clinging like a second skin and affording his lustful gaze every inch of your torso. Your free hand was waving up at him.

Daryl inched the window open with trembling hands.

“Mr. Dixon, this truck is filthy!” you shouted from down below.

Swallowing and blinking was all he knew how to do, it seemed. Finally, Daryl managed, deadpan:

“I know.”

You placed your hands on your hips and narrowed your eyes up at him.

“Have you always been such a dirty old man?”

Fuck. It was like you knew what he’d been doing, crouched over in the privacy of his home while he drooled and dreamed of fucking you stupid. He watched you cross the front of the car.

And lean down to start rubbing your sponge across the hood.

Daryl sincerely feared you might hear his loud groan the second it rose to his throat. He gritted his teeth, tried to fight the sound, but came up short with nothing to show for his efforts but a whimper slipping past his lips.

You started swirling your sponge in circles, tits shaking with every movement you made.

“Too bad little girls ain’t good for nothin’,” you sighed.

When you leaned flat across the metal surface below you, Daryl pictured himself standing behind you, taking his dick and shoving it deep between your folds. Stretching you out and making you scream into the space in front of you.

Slowly, discreetly, Daryl’s hand drifted back to his cock.

“Yeah. Too bad,” he mumbled as you bent over to soak your sponge once more. When you straightened up, you made sure to squeeze the thing over your chest so the water would douse your front. Daryl took the window frame in one hand and his cock in the other, leaning out just slightly to ask, “This the ‘stuff’ ye’s talkin’ ‘bout?”

“Thangs, really,” you answered dryly.

The two of you exchanged a brief smile, and Daryl’s hand started stroking his length.

Lucky for him, and unlucky for you, the size of the window wasn’t primed to make you privy to the sight of him pleasuring himself. At most, you saw a forearm moving gently back and forth. You bit your lower lip and kept your sponge moving in loops.

“Well these ‘thangs’ are gonna get ya in a whole heap of trouble with yer daddy if ya keep this up, girl,” Daryl warned, nodding toward your house with a wary look.

“It’s empty, Mr. Dixon. Whole place is mine for the weekend,” you replied with a sly intonation.

Finally, you stopped long enough to get a hand back down to your shorts. Facing Daryl still, you popped a button on your denim cut-offs and looked up at him with a glossy, innocent stare. You pretended to feel for something that wasn’t there, snagged the band of your light pink thong, and lifted it up to Daryl’s hungry gaze. You saw his bicep visibly strain as he jerked his cock even faster.

Back inside, Daryl was panting, groaning, reeling at the thought of you all alone in your house next door, splayed out across your bed in a baby pink panty set. He soaked in the sight of you and curled his toes into the floor as a new jolt of pleasure broke out through his body.

He was closer than he’d ever been. He rested his head against the window and watched you run your hands over your body, down your front, in your shorts. He imagined your fingers grazing your cunt and how wet you must’ve been then, imagining him right back and fucking him steady with your eyes.

For a moment, your eyelids fluttered, and a blissful look crossed your features. Daryl rutted his hips at the thought of you finding your clit in front of him—desperately wanting to be the source of that pleasure himself—and pumped himself even faster.

“Darlin’, I…I need ya. In such a bad fuckin’ way.” He couldn’t keep the tender term of endearment from dancing on his tongue. The sight of you alone had his brain on the fritz.

You slipped your hand out of your shorts and brought a couple honeyed fingertips to the edge of your lips.

“How bad, Mr. Dixon?” you asked, eyeing him intently.

Daryl whined and felt his insides churn with the threat of release. He knew he couldn’t hold on much longer.

“So— so bad. Need to fuck ya so bad.”

That satisfied your affirmation-hungry itch well enough. You pushed two digits between your lips and started to suck.

From that point on, you didn’t need to see him or hear him or be there waiting patiently on your knees to get a mouthful of his cum—you knew it was coming. Daryl’s face contorted with a blissful, fucked-out expression, and suddenly he was pumping that space below the window full of his load, likely spraying the whole damn thing on the wall.

You stood back and admired your work. Daryl had all but collapsed with both hands planted on the windowsill, wet, brown locks hanging low in his face as the aftershocks of his arousal washed over him.

He was panting and barely able to meet your gaze. You couldn’t quite read the expression.

At any rate, you knew your job here was done.

With a hand waving sweetly back up at him once more, you eyed the mess of a man—your father’s best friend—and started to reach for your bucket and sponge. You buttoned your shorts back up and took a step from his truck. When it seemed Daryl was just then starting to open his mouth to speak, you beat him to it and called out, cheerfully,

“See ya around, Mr. Dixon!”

[granddaughterogg]

So, you're the newest addition to Task Force 141 and you Make a Move on one of the boys. How will they react?

Johnny Soap MacTavish: With utter glee. "Took ya long enough, lass! Thought you'll never shoot your shot!" He'll announce with amusement. Our perky Scotsman is an absolute Sexpot - and he knows it. He is also a master of Living in the Moment aka Seizing the Day. Rules and regulations be damned. "So what do you say?" He'll ask, filling your personal space with all that muscle and clasping those strong hands around your waist. "Wanna go on a date first…" Johnny wiggles his painterly eyebrows. "...Or shall we skip to the good part?"

Ghost: When you confessed that you'd like to spend some time with him in private, he didn't seem thrilled. As is usual case with Ghost, he didn't seem like caring one way or another. All you got in the way of a reaction was his hand, holding the cigarette and now stilled halfway to his mouth. He threw you one of his Stares - Simon Riley's eyes are as beautiful as they are cryptic, you've never been able to read those dark peepers surrounded by white, seemingly frosted eyelashes of dizzying length. Then he muttered something under his breath and walked away. You didn't hear a word from him for the next three days, apart from work orders anyway. Disappointment and embarrassment tormented you in turns. You were silently cursing your big, reckless mouth. On the fourth day he approached you as if nothing had ever happened and said: "Allright". "Allright what, Sir?.." You asked, dumbfounded. "I agree. We should fuck."

Gaz: Oh, this beautiful boy. Out of the whole squad he's probably the one best adapted to Living in a Society. He reacts as any sensible man would: with a charming smile, a proud, joyful gleam in his eye, a trace of a blush almost. "Gosh, Private, really…Me? Well, girl, you got outstanding taste." "Don't I know it," you answer boldly. "Look, babe," he says in a hushed voice, coming closer and putting his hands on your shoulders, "Cap will rip my head off and piss in my neck if he finds out that I'm fooling around with a subordinate...so we're gonna have to be extra careful, 'kay? Can you promise me that?" You nod enthusiastically. This is so exciting!

Captain Price: So you like to live dangerously. There is no safe way that you can Put the Moves on your commander. You know that...right? On the other hand - if you're gonna break the rules, break them hard and break them for good. Tell him that you desire him. That you can't stop thinking about him. Pick a moment when the rest of the guys won't be within a kilometer radius. Say your line and look into those hard, cloudy sky-coloured eyes which have just grown big and round with shock. "Kid," says Price, his voice suddenly a little breathy, which is oh so hot: "Are you out of your goddamn mind?" "Only for you, Sir." Flutter those eyelashes. Come on, lay it on thick. It's been some time since anyone has thrown themselves at the old man. He will sigh the mother of all sighs, then drag one hand across his tired face. "I am you commanding officer." "That you are, Sir." He will come closer, both hands behind his back. Then he'll reach out and gently, oh, so gently touch your cheekbone. "You do realize tha' I could tell you to pack up and send your arse home?" His voice is very meticulously level, but you can feel the volcano bubbling underneath. "I do, Sir. But I just couldn't live a lie. I want you." That boldness will earn you another sigh - this time more ragged. He'll trace his finger over your upper lip, say: "Well fuck me sideways..." like a man who has just experienced a miracle - and then John Price will embrace you in a kiss, shameless, deep and hungry.

This man has been criminally touch starved. Congratulations, you'll have your hands full from now on. Not to mention your…other regions.

[justcallmesakira]

Bsd men with a childish s/o part 2!

Sypnosis: Bsd men with a very silly and goofy s/o with ranpo, akutagawa and nikolai! Genre: Lowkey fluff, crack

Warnings: poisoning with peanuts, sliding down a metal Rollercoaster railing, implied doxxing a Mexican kid, blasting, teeth 😇

A/N: Okay so my last post got loads of likes so I decided to do a part 2 because why not? I don't think I will do part 3 but you can request if you want..?

Ranpo-

Wow... look two autistic lovers challenging each other who can eat the most sweets without getting cavity!

You one time tried stealing his candies,, so he kept you in those childrens tents filled with colorful balls😧😧😧 yk those silly cages made for children so they think they are meant to have fun?

Nahh fukuzawa gunna call the CPS

If you think he will be all sweet with you.... No shit bro your in for a ride, AND I MEAN A LITTERAL RIDE-

"uhh ranpo I don't think we should use a Rollercoaster as a slide" "shut up you kid! Sliding not a crime xD"

Two grown up adults found sliding down a roller coasters rail

BRO let the news reporter have a break 😭

He's kinda like dazai but a bit more childish with you (awh how cute...)

One time he tried to play with a kid on the sandbox but he refused so you came and gaslighted the kid to eat a peanut butter lollipop 🍭🥜

Turns out the kid had allergy to nuts

Kid: AUGHHH AGUH AGHGh AEEEEUGHH you: :3 Ranpo: god must be happy

FAMILY GUY Reference??? YES

And so two totally romantic lovers go on a journey to poison little kids!

Hohoho if aomeone bullies you he's gonna go "Hello (first name) (middle name) (last name) who lives in (full address) and was born in (birth hospital)" on that Mexican kid who tried to bully you

That's hot😋😳🤭

One time you lost your left glove in the winter so he took your left hand and slid it in his gloved hand

YES THAT'S POSSIBLE I DID THAT TO MY hopeless romantic ass Self!!!!

Akutagawa-

....

How did you get him to date you bro 😀

He does not even understand what wrong with you so he always has be the one saving your ass during a mission just in cas3

OH it's not for your protection.... It's him protecting the building so you don't blow it up

😁😁😁

You know how he goes ◉ - ◉ sometimes? That's exactly how he questions your silly antics

"I can't wait for the tooth fairy to come for the teeth under my bed!" "◉-◉" higuchi: you are too old for fallen tooth what are you sa-- Y/N WHO'S TOOTH IS THA--"

He only glared at higuchi telling her to not question it with you behind him ":3"

Sometimes you play with his rashoumon by putting make up on it

Idkdontaskmehowyoudidthat-

"sir we bombed up the plac-" "good" 💁‍♀️💄👹---🧑

GUYS THE DEMON IS THE RASOUMON AND DON'T QUESTION IT

If anything akutagawa is questioning why he has to keep you in a children's daycare

BRO give him a break-

When dazai met you and you two had matching energy he was just staring at you two with respect... He felt a bit felt out though

HUG HIM RIGHT NOW👿

Other then that he tries to understand you and protect you from danger because of your goof :)

Nikolai-

This is gonna get messy.... 😨

Honestly you have matching energy butttttt- BONUS POINTS IF YOU ARE A TERRORIST WHO Goes >:3 WHILE BLOWING UP A BUILDING-

Fyodor is questioning his life choices because you two acCidENtaLly burned his kitchen

"Damn.... It's 7 am..." Fyodor said calmly as he saw his only house burn down

Your gonna become his pretty assistant in his circus or sth🤡

Anyways you know those bumper cars? You two ride those and bump each other with it causing a friction and blasting the whole place

He will let you lay on his thi- I mean lap if you are too tired but don't be surprised to wake up with pigtails and heavy makeup :>

NIKO I love you but if you do that... Things are gonna get way messier😊😊😊

If

If you want anything he Wil just open up his portal and bring

"oioioioi koala (the name you gave him because of kolya) I want to drink shrimp and lollipop soda" *opens up portal and takes out a golden can* "here you go! :3" "Oh tank yew :3"

Totally sane and normal!!

Yes you call him koala instead of kolya but he always goes 😳🤭

I would too bbg wann-

Overall I think it's sort of good to be cheerful I mean at least you get too get away with his pranks (slightly)

Just make sure he doesnt sigma 3 breakdown hair you

A/N: I know this wasn't good but I am not in the mood to write yk--so sorry it's not funny or anything anyways I am not sure whether I WI will write part 3 or not

Tag: @silverbladexyz

Reblogs and likes are very much appreciated!

[earthearthearththearth]

⚾Scout Dating Headcanons⚾

And I could probably think of more

💞It takes him a surprisingly long time to ask you out 

💞He lives fast, probably dies fast, but romance? He wants that to be quick too. Fortunatly for you, he learned a few things from spy’s lessons. Like taking his time a little bit. 

💞Being too forceful is why he things Miss Pauling was a no-go. By the time he starts to like you, he’s completely over her. He can only handle so much in his tiny little brain. 

💞I can’t tell whether he would try to have another prom with you. Probably not. I think he would stick by your side and show off a lot.

💞”Need help carrying that?” It’s a loaf of bread.

💞He carries it anyways. Sometimes it embarrasses you, but the rest of the guys know his ways.

💞After a while, probably when you two finally get a moment alone-he’ll be damned if he hears about this from the team-he finally asks you out. And it is stupid.

🗨"Hey toots, how about we make like a two piece chicken and be together.”

🗨"Hey, you like things that are fast? Cause I know a guy.”

🗨"Can’t spell scout without u”

🗨”You’re hot and I like that”

💞So you say yeah, you’ll date him. Maybe at first you’re a little questionable, but it’s not like you have a lot of options anyway.

💞At first it’s what you would expect. Wanna bang? Do you wanna bang? Do you want to bang? Or perhaps you want to bang. And do you want to bang?” 

💞You probably say sure at some point, but that takes a while. You’re not exactly jumping in.

💞He’s cute and he’s friendly to you, like a dog in some ways, but you are constantly on a battlefield. You hadn’t had this planned exactly.

💞So the actual dating.

💞Always touching you. Hand on the waist, butt, shoulder, arm around the shoulder or waist. He probably wants you to sit on his lap, but he can’t sit still for two seconds. Lots of quick kisses.

💞A fan of sloppy makeouts. It’s very him-ish. This has lead to sex on more tha one occasion, but it’s nice when it’s just some smoochin’ too.

💞I’ve seen a lot of people say he twitches like a dog in his sleep. He does. 

💞Likes to pick you up and swing you around if he can. Sometimes he can, sometimes he can’t. Depends on the time of day. 

💞Very cheesy pickup lines. The amount of times you hear, “Come here often?” is actually insane.

💞Movie nights! No he can’t sit still, but I think he loves zombie movies. You guys talk through the whole thing lol. 

💞He infodumps to you and you do the same. He is a suprisingly good listener. A very active one yes, but he remembers everything. Or at least he tries to. 

💞He is constantly staring at you. He is such a goober. 

💞All in all, he is just so in love and just has a great time knowing you are his.

[im-the-reader-of-which-you-speak]

Cool Cut

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary: Reader wants a cool, unconventional haircut, but is too shy to get it. Or at least that would be the case, if she wasn't dating Eddie Munson.

Word count: ~1,000

Notes: Reader is implied to have hair long enough to cut. The hair cut they want is described in the first sentence. Not sure if it will work for all hair textures. I think the details are pretty vague otherwise. -- Eddie calls Reader "Babe" and "Baby." -- No pronouns used, but the haircut they want is on a girl. -- Y/N is not used.

Her hair was long in the front and short in the back, like a reverse mullet. The magazine she lies in is a few years old at this point, the cover reads "August 21, 1984." That's how long you've been thinking about the damn haircut.

It was weird. It was unconventional.

It was cool.

You run your fingers through your hair, imagining what it'd be like to have a cut like that. Eddie pokes his head over your shoulder.

"With how much you stare at that lady, I'm starting to think you have a crush, babe." He kisses your neck. "Should I be jealous?"

"No no- don't worry, it's nothing like that! I've only got eyes for you, promise." Setting the tattered magazine down, full attention now on your boyfriend... Only for Eddie to pick it up again and flip right to the page.

"Ya sure? This is the third time you pulled that thing out this week. You study this page like Picasso painted it."

"She just has cool hair 'is all. Don't think I've ever seen anything like it."

He lets out a knowing hum, playing with his curls. "Think I should get it? Would ya like it shorter?" He shines a playful smile.

"No!" You snatch away the magazine before it gives him anymore ideas. "I love your hair exactly how it is!" You grab two fists full of his locks as if that will protect them.

He chuckles, gives you a kiss on the forehead and grabs your hands. "Yeah I love it too. Don't worry, this mop isn't going anywhere." He gives his crown a good shake, relishing in his abundance of curls.

"So do you want a cut like that?"

"Oh uh. Ha, I don't think real people have that sort of hair. That's reserved for like, rockstars and models. Not us lowly serfs."

"Says who? What, are the fashion police gonna stop us?" He hops off the sofa, finger gun pointed in your face. "Place the shears on the ground! We have you surrounded!"

"Officer! I was only getting a bob, I swear!"

"Likely story. With a cut this stylish, you're looking at a lifetime of conical bras high-waisted suspenders."

"Noooo!" You throw your hands up, surrendering to Officer Munson.

Grinning from ear to ear, Eddie ends the scene and returns to his place next to you on the couch. "I know you have shears in the bathroom. The style doesn't look that hard, I bet I could do it if you want."

You thought about it again. Feeling the breeze on your neck. How the long bits in the front would frame your face. You sigh. "No... Thanks but, nobody has hair like that. I'm not trying to put a target on my back." You fold in on yourself. "Probably wouldn't even look good on me anyway."

"Woah. First of all, you'd look hot wearing a fishbowl on your head. You'd look even better embracing your own style." You shy away from his words, but he pulls you right back to him.

"Second of all, what with this target? You're already dating the Freak of Hawkins High." He hops out of his seat, putting on the theatrics. "Are you gonna let them suppress you? Stamp out your individuality? Mold you into a drone like them?"

"Yes."

"So not metal." He rolls his eyes, shot down by words. His body drops down like a sand bag, weighted by disappointment. "I can't control you, babe, but I hope you know I love you. No matter the hair style."

"Even if it's matted and ratty?"

"Even if you were bald. And I think anyone worth a damn would too. 'Cuz you got good taste, baby. And anyone who thinks differently can fuck off!"

How does he make it look so easy? He dances through life like no one is watching. He screams to the world that he's a nerdy metalhead freak every day. He doesn't give the backlash a second thought.

If you were Eddie, you would have had this haircut for years now. And here you are longing for it. What to you is a dream, for him is a reality. You loved Eddie. You loved his style, every little weird thing about him, all his unconventional hobbies. To you he's the epitome of cool.

Man, how did you score a piece like him?

"Okay let's do it."

"Wait what?" Eddie tuned out while you were admiring him. It takes a second to process what you're saying.

"We have hair clippers. Let's do it" You hand him the magazine for reference.

"Fuck yeah baby let's do this!"

You wash your hair and throw on one of Eddie's shirts, one that you don't mind sacrificing to the prickly hair gods. You look in the bathroom mirror. Eddie stands behind you, pulling goofy faces, pretending to be some crazed killer with the scissors.

"Ready babe? Standing firm? Don't move around too much, I don't want to cut your ear off." You take a second to ground yourself, you're really gonna do this. Grasping the sink, you look at Eddie's eyes and he gives you a reassuring smile in the mirror.

"Ready."

He combs through your hair, separating a bit from the back.

Snip!

There's a drop in your stomach as you watch the wet loc fall to the ground.

"Hey could you pull your head back a bit?" He gently guides your face back up to the mirror. "Stay still, let me work my magic here."

Snip snip snip

Eventually you close your eyes-- you can't keep looking anymore. Deep breaths, you focus on Eddie's guiding hands. His fingers lightly scratching across your scalp. The long inhale he takes before holding his breath as he focuses. The long exhale that leaves his mouth as he makes the last cut.

"Done!"

You open your eyes, but he covers them immediately.

"Uh oh Munson, what did you do?"

"Gave you the perfect hair cut. But don't look yet! Let me comb it out and dry it first."

Your eyes mostly remain closed as he gets rid of all the stray hairs, but you manage sneak a little peek while Eddie is blowdrying your hair. His tongue pokes out as he concentrates.

"No peeking!" He blasts your peeping eye with the blow dryer.

A final brush out later he finally announces that you can look.

"What'd'ya think babe? Lookin' like a rockstar?"

Any reasonable person would probably not let Eddie cut their hair. Any reasonable person would probably lock away any sharp objects in his line of site.

But good thing you weren't reasonable, because it was perfect.

"Wow. Eddie, when did you go to cosmetology school?"

"So you like it?"

"Eddie, it's exactly what I wanted."

"Yeah, but how do you feel?"

Finally seeing yourself with the hair you always wanted, only one word comes to mind.

"Metal."

"Damn right you do babe." He squeezes your torso and places a fat kiss on your lips.

If there was any question amongst the student body of Hawkins High that you two were dating, there isn't anymore. Because you two freaks belong together. You guys were too cool for the rest of them anyway.

[sshewonders]

WARM BODIES

Chapter 05: Doubtful

chapter synopsis: Daryl and Merle arrive with supplies. When you ask Daryl to teach you hunting, he dismisses you. Frustrated, you turn to sketching in your tent for emotional release.

chapter warnings: Social isolation, rejection, and self-doubt themes as the protagonist struggles to fit in, seeking validation and finding solace in art.

word count: 1.4k words

author's note: Don't you just love it when writers depict Daryl Dixon in Season 1 just as Norman Reedus portrays him? He's an annoying jerk in Season 1, and I kind of hate it when writers make him out of character, suddenly super sweet. Anyway, enjoy reading!

MASTERLIST

NEXT CHAPTER >>

The Dixon brothers set their tent at a distance, out of sight from the others. You could still keep an eye on them, given that your and Glenn's tent wasn't too far from the Dixons'. While Daryl was busy skinning the squirrels he had caught, Merle had gone off somewhere, probably into the woods to retrieve their pickup or something. Daryl wasn't exactly the sociable type, and when Carl approached him to ask about his cool crossbow, Shane sternly instructed the boy to stay away from the Dixon brothers. You couldn't blame Shane, though. He was just looking out for Carl, right?

Later around lunchtime, Merle returned with a red, worn-out pickup and a motorcycle on the back. A group of men, including Shane, Jim, T-dog, Dale, Morales, Glenn, and others whose names you didn't know, gathered around the pickup. It was loaded with a small arsenal of guns and ammo, enough to provide a bit more security but not nearly sufficient to arm everyone.

Daryl began frying some squirrels, and you observed from a distance while hanging your laundry, which had been washed by Carol. You had a plan - to talk to Daryl and ask him to teach you how to hunt, so you could help bring food to the table and not leave him hunting alone.

After finishing your chores, you made your way to the Dixon brothers' tent. Merle was still absent, probably indulging in who knows what in the woods. The sun was slowly descending in the afternoon sky.

"Hey, Daryl," you started, your voice slightly shaky due to nervousness. You weren't great at socializing, especially with strangers, and there was an unfamiliar lilt in your voice. You cleared your throat, hoping to ease your awkwardness. "I just wanted to thank you for giving some squirrels to Dale. He's cooking them for dinner now. So, thank you."

Daryl, his eyes hard and unreadable, looked up from the pan where he was frying squirrels. An uncomfortable silence hung between the both of you as you tried to decipher his expression.

Then, Daryl scoffed, still focused on the squirrels. He plated more of them, his gruff voice expressing his reluctance to chat. "It's nothin'. It's part of the deal, what tha' cop said, and my brother agreed to it."

After a moment, his gaze returned to the pan, fixated on the sizzling squirrels. He then put a few cooked ones onto a plastic plate, adding another batch to the pan, which crackled with the sound of frying. You kept your distance from the hot oil.

As the oil sizzled and popped, you flinched, your frustration growing. Daryl didn't seem to care much about your unease, and you clenched your fists in frustration.

"Damn it," you muttered to yourself, releasing a heavy sigh. You felt like you were failing at this whole conversation thing.

Daryl glanced at you, a hint of curiosity in his hard eyes. "What?" he asked.

You gathered your courage and got straight to the point. "I need you to teach me how to hunt," you said, causing Daryl's eyes to lock onto you. "Please."

Daryl stared at you, as if you had lost your mind. He offered a disdainful glance and finished frying the squirrels before transferring them to a plate. "Ain't a damn teacher, girl," he scoffed, making his way toward his tent.

Unwilling to give up, you followed him, an anxious expression on your face. "Please. I really need to learn how to hunt. I want to be useful here."

Daryl's harsh tone continued, making your heart sink further. He spat out, "Why don't ya teach yourself? You're an archer, ain't ya? Or are you too delicate for that too? Some people just ain't built for this world."

You felt your heart sink, his response making you upset. You mustered up your resolve and replied, "I may know how to shoot a bow, but I don't know how to track, skin, or prepare game. That's why I need someone like you to show me. Please."

Daryl continued to give you the cold, harsh stare. His annoyance was apparent as he sneered at you, "You ain't cut out for this kind of life, girl. You should stick playin' with your bows and let the real hunters do their job. Ain't nobody got time to babysit you."

His words hit you like a punch to the gut. You felt your cheeks flush with embarrassment and anger, but you kept your composure and replied, "I may not be cut out for it now, but I'm willing to learn. So, sorry for bothering you, Daryl." With that, you turned away, your eyes glistening with unshed tears, and walked back to your tent, leaving Daryl to his squirrels.

Inside your tent, you stared at you recurve bow with a sense of hopelessness. What was the point of begging someone, especially a skilled hunter, to teach you how to hunt if they clearly despised you? It felt futile. You couldn't help but feel proud of bringing Daryl and Merle to the camp, securing a valuable source of food and weaponry. Still, a small part of you had hoped that Daryl would agree to teach you.

You had always excelled in archery. You had won numerous awards and accolades before the world fell apart, both at school and in town events. But now, in the damned new world, everything was different. Target practice on stationary darts was nothing like aiming at moving and dangerous creatures like the geeks.

You grappled with a deep sense of inadequacy in the camp. Every time you attempted to help with chores, the older women insisted on taking over, believing the tasks were too strenuous for you. When you expressed interest in gathering firewood, the men gently discouraged you, stating that such labor wasn't suitable for someone of your stature. Trying your hand at cooking resulted in laughter and ridicule, with a past incident involving almost setting a pot on fire being the source of the amusement.

You despised it all. You couldn't stand being treated like a child. You were twenty-seven years old, after all. You and Glenn were of the same age, yet he had been remarkably useful to the camp, taking on various tasks like firewood collection, car repairs, and even venturing into the city for supply runs. For you, it was an ongoing cycle of feeling inept. You had been seen as useless before the world turned to chaos, and it seemed that nothing had changed since.

You couldn't help but feel overwhelmed by a sense of self-doubt. You thought about your brother, who had always been there to support you and push you to be better. Your eyes began to well up with tears as you reminisced about those moments.

Your voice cracked as you muttered to yourself, "Why can't I just be strong and useful like Glenn?" You wiped away a few tears and took a deep breath. It wasn't just about being strong physically; you felt a deep need to prove your worth to the group.

You set your bow aside, your trembling hands reaching for the worn leather bag beside you. With a deep sigh and tears glistening in your eyes, you carefully unzipped the bag, revealing the art materials within. The act of unzipping the bag felt like unearthing a piece of your past life, one that was filled with colors, inspiration, and dreams.

The sketchbook, its pages slightly yellowed with age, felt cool to the touch. You opened it gently, revealing a blank canvas waiting to be filled. Your charcoal pencils, meticulously organized by size, lay beside the sketchbook. The variety of pencils, from 4H to 6B, held the potential to capture the depth of your emotions.

In the dim light of your tent, illuminated only by a flickering candle, you began to draw. Each stroke was a release of the tension that had built up inside you. Your hand, guided by your emotions, moved with nothing but sadness.

Tears streaked down your face as you allowed your emotions to pour onto the paper. The sketch took shape, revealing a face with furrowed brows and eyes heavy with sorrow. The lines of the sketch mirrored the turbulence within your soul, the turmoil you had been trying to contain.

Time seemed to stand still as you poured your heart into the artwork. By the time you put down your charcoal pencil, the sketch was complete. You gazed at your creation, your tears now dried on your cheeks. The intensity of the emotional release left you feeling drained yet strangely relieved. The sketch captured a glimpse of your inner world, a silent cry for understanding and acceptance.

Art had been your solace for as long as you could remember, and it was a reminder that even in the darkest of times, you could find a way to express yourself and heal.

@celtic-crossbow @maackiimoo @duckmania127 @xmaeyonaiise @richardsamboramylove55

[kaizenkhaos]

Okay so as soon as I saw the pool boy Billy post from @ariesbilly, I had to sit down and write something. And lo and behold, half an hour later, here comes my contribution in the form of a ficlet :D Because Billy needed a second job and Steve's mom was looking for a pool boy. And like Billy is ever going to miss a chance to "torment" the pretty boy ;) Brief mention of Billy's home life and his job at Hawkin's Pool. Otherwise it's the boys all the way ^^

It was that time of year again. Summer. And Billy had not just one gig this time but two. Cos apparently being in the house at all during daylight was a red flag and being a man meant being out all days of the week, earning money for the household. There weren't enough hours going at the pool, and Billy hadn't wanted to spend any more hours around damn screaming kids and horny moms anyway. There was only so much he could handle for either of them. The screams setting his teeth on edge, his jaw tightening, and the stares stirring the pit of his stomach in an unpleasant way. So when a notice was plastered outside of the Harrington house, saying somethin' about needing a pool boy, well like hell Billy was gonna give up that opportunity. Nor was he gonna let anyone else scoop it up. With his best smile and swiping the ad from the wall, he'd strode up to that door and sweet talked Mrs Harrington, who'd given him the job on the spot. When could he start? Right away ma'am. Earning money from the rich boy's household and getting to torment him? Maybe this summer was shaping up to be somethin' after all.

He'd not seen him the first couple of days, him or his car. But then one Saturday, the pretty boy had come rolling up the drive. Cu the engine before going through to the back and dumped himself on one of the loungers. Billy had been working on cleaning the edges, looked over at where a smoke trail started to head towards the sky. Wolf grin emerged as he slowly picked himself up. His eyes locked onto Steve as he strolled over to him. Lording over him until Steve finally rolled his eyes in his direction.

"Harrington! So the lord of the manor decides to finally show his face." The look that descended on Steve's face made Billy's grin twice as wide. Well, well, well. He clearly had no idea about the new arrangement. This could be fun. Momma Harrington apparently hadn't let her little boy know that they now had a pool boy. Or who he was.

"What the hell you doing here? Decide that breaking and entering is more your thing?" "Nah, though your pool is worth it any day of the week." Billy cast his eyes over it. How the other life lived. But now he was here, legally, and could do what he always liked to do. No escaping him now huh Harrington.

"You know, you always think you're something special. With your big house and your pool and your hair and all. Swanning around school and this place like you're hot shit. But…." He paused, his grin turning to a sideways smirk as he eyed up the ex-King. "There's always one that's hotter Harrington." An eye roll and Steve took a slow drag of his cigarette before he tilted his head in Billy's direction. Billy watching the snark and all flashing behind his eyes. Wondering what comeback the pretty boy of Hawkins High had in store for him this time. But when all he got was a glare and that, 'Yeah, your point is?' look, Billy leaned further towards him. "Hawkins' a small place man and you know that better than anyone. Being a purebred and all. But you know, I can't help but wonder if you're slipping further. Like it's clear that you don't know the deal I have with your mom, so I can't help but wonder what else you don't know." Now Steve was sitting up and Billy knew he had him just where he wanted him. "Oh, ho ho. King Steve really has fallen. Did Hagan not tell you our deal either?"

"What the hell you going on about?"

Now Billy was so close, he could inhale the smoke fully. It disappeared up his nostrils and puffed back into Steve's handsome face. "Well, one that your mom hired me as your lifeguard to make sure you don't go and drown yourself in this fancy pool of yours. And second, that seeing as you've been putting your ass out there, if I took a liking to you pretty boy. Then I'd get some too."

Steve's face, as Billy pulled back to see the effort of his words. A kleidoscope of emotions crossed the jock's face as he rapidly got to his foot. Fight mode active, eyes blazing. The side of King Steve Billy loved to provoke out of its slumber. The side he wanted to see. He wanted Harrington every which way, but he craved the pushback today. "Hit a nerve? Didn't even have to tell you to get up. But I can tell you somethin' else." "Oh yeah?" "Yeah. Take your damn clothes off. Now."

A snort and he wondered for a brief moment if Steve was gonna tell him to fuck off or would actually comply. An eyebrow crept up his face as Steve's hands went to the bottom of that top which showed off his body. Yeah pretty boy, that's right. Take the bait…. "You want my clothes off huh?" Yep. All nice and riled now wasn't he. Playing right into Billy's hands. "You know that I fucked him right. Him and the whole basketball team. And the cheerleaders. Sometimes at the same time." Billy had of course heard the rumours. That Steve had been practically pimping himself out and it had only taken a few nights with Hagan and Perkins to apparently have switched King Steve back on and put him back in the game. Billy didn't care at all. It's not like he had any room to judge number of bed partners. He just wanted to get his name to the top of the list. And stay there.

"But fine man, you wanna see my ass? Fine." The top was off and finally Billy got to gaze at that fine body whilst getting paid for it. Looking disinterested on the outside, as if it actually bored him to see it. But inside he was running hot, feeling himself swell inside his shorts.

"Get em off Harrington."

A slight pause as Steve slung his top onto the lounger and then worked on his jeans. A fluid motion which Billy wanted to see over and over. A sight which would play on his mind late at night and early in the morning.

"I don't need this shit….. You want this ass? You can have it." Just what he wanted to hear, and see that big bulge waiting for him. It was going to be all his and Billy managed to just keep the eagerness off his face. Couldn't let Steve know how much he'd wanted to be another notch on his bedpost after all. Make him think this was just another fling, another write off and not the start of something else.

"Haven't got all day man. Show me that fucking dump truck of an ass."

[cha-faile]

Edit: I will not re-post this to the correct blog, this just lives here as a monument to my glee!

B5 s02e19 Divided Loyalties Table of Contents • previous episode

Delenn: "I find the notion of the press a…fascinating, but sometimes troubling concept."

I find the notion that the Minbari don't have press to be a fascinating but potentially troubling concept!

The machine that dispenses Universe Today but requires that you confirm your identity to get a paper is wild. Does it give different papers to different people?

Delenn: "It is good to know what your people are thinking and saying about my people. And, uh, I often learn things about my own world before I'm told what I need to know and no more."

She is so cute!! And so crafty!! I liked Delenn from The Gathering, but I like her more and more whenever she appears.

A flood on a space station seems like it could get really really bad, really really fast.

I once read a hilarious fanfic where some Star Wars characters traveled to B5 and bought a shitload of data crystals, which turned out to be kyber, and this reminded me of that.

When I was looking up what the episode was called, I saw that Lyta-from-the-Gathering would be coming back and I'm so excited for this! I hope she and Talia get along.

asddkhfsdkfh what was that little shimmy?? Cool alien, hilarious shoulder wiggles.

Sheridan: "oh, I miss trees…." Garibaldi, from Mars: "……" *yeah, so anyway changing the subject now*

Talia: It's hard to believe it's taken us so long to get to this point. Two years. Susan: Well, you didn't exactly make it easy. Talia: Me? how 'bout you? Susan: I'll have you know I've been nothing but compassionate and understanding. I mean, all you had to do was admit that you were wrong and I was right and everything would be fine!

LMAO.

Sleepover? Sleepover!!! GAY GIRLS GO

Susan: "I'd like the company."

Yeah I'd like her company, too. *eyebrow waggle*

Wow, Lyta had a rough arrival! Maybe she can sleep over with Susan and Talia, too. *eyebrow waggle*

Go Lyta Go. I support unhinged women wielding surgical tools.

Poor Lyta has spent years being distrusted and interrogated by psicorps for what she saw in Kosh's mind. I'd be pretty twitchy after that, too! Their tender loving care seems like it would be the exact oppposite.

She is even hotter than she was in the Gathering.

OK, love the exposition about the fucked up things psi corps can do with people's brains. Fucking terrifying. Implant a personality below their personality, that emerges and destroys the original when the right time comes around. Moles that don't know they're moles. Very uncool of PsiCorps.

Lyta is SO paranoid, but I suspect she isn't being paranoid enough. She's shockingly tolerant of being placed in secure holding. I don't think I'd agree to be literally imprisoned that readily. She hasn't done anything but come out of anesthesia swinging surgical tools after being imprisoned by PsiCorps for two years.

Delenn!!!

Sheridan: Why is it every time you finally get things calmed down and everything's going great life decides to kick you in the butt? Delenn: …but what?

That really got me and I lol'ed. Good use of idioms and miscommunication! Love it. She wasn't taught slang because it was considered innapropriate for a member of the religious caste.

Delenn: I butt, you butt, he or she butts… Sheridan: NO. No, it's… Delenn: Butt-butt. Sheridan: you sound like a motorboat. Delenn: Motor butt?

I continue to cackle. OK, I finally ship them. They reeled me in!

Hold her hand back you fucking monkey!!

The debates and counter-intelligence and fact checking is A+. Damn you JMS for making me like Garibaldi via the excellent Garibaldi-Sheridan interactions. :|

Sleepover date!! I am so excited. Susan knows how to woo a woman: with a real, hot-water shower. It would work on me.

More good exposition. Talia knew Lyta, she was six months behind Talia at the academy. She was nice, sweet. They were close at one time. *eyebrow waggle*

It speaks very well of Lyta that she hated her PsiCop internship and went commercial instead.

"So I've come to the decision that there's only one person on this station that I can trust implicitly…" *gets in Susan's personal space and stares at her lips* "…you." *almost touches Susan with bare fingers* me: *goes absolutely fucking feral*

Why tf is Lyta a prisoner?! I ask a-fucking-gain. This is ridiculous, and exposes her and her mission to the goddamn EarthCorps brown shirts!

Yeah, well obviously someone wanted to shoot at her when she was being transferred! This is why she should be having a gay-ass sleepover with Talia and Susan right now!

At least they don't think Lyta instigated the attack on herself. They're ass-backwards about this. She shows up with news of a secret, they imprison her where any security staff could find out, including the goddamn leak she was talking about, and then Sheridan is mad and shocked someone knew she was there with critical info. C'mon, dude.

Also Susan, <3, Sheridan is right about one thing, this isn't a scan to object to, it's just her projecting a code word to see if anyone reacts.

Talia: "I woke up last night and you were gone." Me: [beast shaking toy in mouth.jpeg]

O.o WHAT IS SUSAN LYING ABOUT. Is she telepathic???? It's my long-running headcanon about her! Please be telepathic, please be. If we get to find out that her mom used her telepathy to hide Susan's powers that would be EVERYTHING to me.

If only Na'Toth and Laurel were in this episode also being badasses it would be the greatest of all time.

c'mon telepathic Susan! C'mon!! omfg I'm almost vibrating.

"…and then, every once in awhile, I was the one who touched her mind."

SCREAMING CRYING THROWING UP FUCK YES I AM WELL FED THIS EPISODE

"…I'm a latent telepath."

FUCKING WINNING

Now Sheridan just needs to not be an idiot about this. Obviously she hid it, who wants to be fucking gangpressed into PsiCorps?!

Good job, Sheridan. Minimal shittiness achieved. And I know I'm completely fucking feral about Susan/Talia but it's so perfect that Susan is so close to Sheridan that he's the first person she tells about her hidden talent.

Smart of Garibaldi to hand over his piece before being not-scanned. What a fucker tho, faking them out. hahah.

also please don't be the mole, Ivanova. I don't want anything bad to have happened to her, ever, but since plenty has, I don't want any more!!

After all these people have been cleared, I think Ivanova will probably just agree to being cleared. She will want to know. Maybe she would let Lyta tell Talia the password and let Talia password her?

I do like Sheridan's theory earlier talking to Garibaldi that the second in command who shot Garibaldi in the back was the mole.

Ahhhh Ivanova did change her mind. And she's clean!

Lyta: I'm sorry Susan: Go to hell.

That's my girl.

Oh man!! I didn't even think to suspect Talia! Fuuuuuuuck, and she's all telekinetic'ed up, too!! Oh, damn it. I don't like this at all.

or do I? There's plenty of whump to be had. hm.

You know what I really don't like, this boys-only confab. Ivanova is the second in command of the entirety of B5 and she's not present for the strategy meeting. Uncool.

Ahhhh it's all coming together for Garibaldi. Wow, they really have been seeding this plotline for the whole show!! Cool Hat Man Mind Empty No Thoughts Only Hat wasn't just fun filler!

The Talia that Susan knew definitely has to be in there! They haven't kissed yet! And I need that!!

Oh, this is chilling!! The angst! The whump!! Susan!!!

I think it would be really funny if the sub-personality didn't understand homosexuality and therefore has no idea real!Talia was in love with Susan and vice versa.

OK now I weirdly ship Lyta/Kosh.

"I never told them, I never told anyone. I hid it all away in the smallest, tiniest corner of my mind. They could have killed me and they still wouldn't have found it. Only at night, alone, would I open that small door in my mind where I kept the memory of you and listened to your voice. Listened to you sing me to sleep. I hope I can come back again, but I don't know. Until then, Kosh, I want to see you again. Just one more time before I go."

Lyta's a bonafide monsterfucker. What a great note to end this on!

My thoughts right now are: "Hnnnnnngggggshshshcsagfjkaldsf yes." Good episode! My favorite of the season so far! I can't wait to see how all this plays out!! I may make some gifs and do a gif-post of this ep later. So many good shots!

this next one is posted to the correct blog, hah.

[jihyoruri]

real talk idk how wowyn pulls bc I know five ppl just like her n lemme tell u they in the trenches. they finna be in the pit

chat do NOT bag a mentally unstable commitmentphonic alt hot chick and get into a situationship w her trust they are mentally ill and will leave u. they jus don't want u to know them brah they don't like feelings. women like me because of my charming loserism and extreme intellect.. women don't want boyfriends they want nerds who are funny.. but they're afraid to love me 😞maybe that is because of my dire mental illness and taking everything literally.. no.. of course not.. it's bc I got that dog in me (autism)

anyway I don't want wowyn like that bc I don't need allat drama.. but I'd smoke w her like ik shes funny asf high.. but wtf is an idol gonna do if she get tha munchies (FRUIT AND ICE UNDEFEATED COMBO🔥🔥)

me and wowyn would get along trust I don't have a dad either queen (NOT ANYMOREE) and my mami says i act and look js like him ijbol is okay! (I'm gonna commit.)🙏firecrackeryn is cooked tho bc daddy issues just make u a hot loser mommy issues make you homicidal an unstable (guess who bagged both)

I wish I could talk to da yns.. which one is a gymrat bc I got an undefeated struggle meal combo 4 them (0 sugar low fat plain greek yogurt with one quarter(1/4) of a protein bar in it)

-twtanon

she pulls because 1 she’s attractive to them and 2 when that girl IS in a relationship she treats them so good like she’s wayyyyy tooo calculated she will literally treat like a princess the whole relationship and then let u down softly to the point that you don’t even realize she dumped you until two hours later…

I wouldn’t even say she causes drama because her exs still think highly of her (wow!yn is like crazy cause she knows damn well) the only person she causes so much stress is chaewon 😭

when you take away the relationship stuff with wow!yn she’s rlly chill and an amazing friend a very overprotective one 😭 like this girl will get with her friends toxic ex just to be even more toxic to them and then drops them (she’s insane but we don’t talk about it cause we love her)

the way wow!yn only smokes sometimes if u wanna hang with pothead aespa!yn is ur girl like karina is constantly complaining that her room smells like weed.

it’s the way even though firecracker!yn has mommy issues she’s honestly doing okay she just had major anger issues

[niobe-loreley]

Heaven Is In A Shortcake {xi}

BEEN TOO DAMN LONG AHJFNHSAEFKJHUN to make up for such a mini hiatus on the fic, I'll be posting two more new chapters because I've got the next three chapters hot and ready to serve!

disclaimer: The Gray Man and the characters are NOT mine, even the reader. I only own the plot and the reader's character lol. Pictures used in the fic are NOT MINE, but only the edited version (u can msg me if u ze owner); credits to the rightful owners and canva + weheartit. Addtionally, I am not a Subic/Zambales native, so my apologies for any wrong locations, descriptions, or languages.

Six x F!Reader / Courtland Gentry x Female Reader

warning: moderate amount of swear words. some filipino dialogues. slow burn. fluff. trust issues. comedy if you use a magnifying glass. culture shock. word count check or not. slightly proofread/revised.

CHAPTER SELECTION is in the ✨Masterlist✨ Chapter 10 is nowhere here Chapter 11 is the chapter right now

word count: 2.1k (N/N) = nickname *Kiara = Claire *Kurt = Court *cover names = reader doesn't know (except you do know #wreckthe4thwall)

For an entire fortnight, Court has successfully not asked you. It is hellish to be in this phase, especially when he hasn't experienced it in his lifetime. Sure, there were people who would flirt with him during missions, and he would flirt back if it's part of his staged identity or the mission isn't commencing yet. And sure, he's shared a bed with someone— and he leaves after an hour.

But he has not asked anyone out. Nor has he had any volition to date anyone until you came along.

This is new territory for him, uncharted waters he never imagined he'd be able to venture. And you're almost like an alien; or maybe he's the alien because he doesn't know the first thing in asking someone out. What is being human, anyway?

Oh, yeah.. that’s how far he has spiraled down the rabbit hole.

"Stare anymore at her and she'll turn into a puddle."

Claire's teasing remark pierces through his thick skull and ceases his haywire thoughts.

Court coughs, noisy and awkward. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Now, that's just plain out idiotic and sad."

"Would you rather pay for the meal tonight?"

"I'd pay for our meal if you ask (N/N) out."

"Tha-That's.. that's not what's happening."

"Again, idiotic and sad."

"You're idiotic." he fires stupidly.

"You're mean."

"You're rude."

"You're a moron."

"You—

"You're watching Playground Insults live!" you chime in with a laugh, "What's going on here? I just went to get extra tissues and you two are fighting."

The pair beams at you as Claire kicks Court in the shin. You hear it, but don't address it, so you wait for either of them to say a word. But besides the music bouncing around the cafe, there's only Claire's shoes rebounding off Court's leg. And Court is smiling at you like nothing is happening.

You look between their grinning faces, and yours begin to falter. This is getting too weird.

"I'm gonna go," you uneasily say, waving before you glide back to the counter.

"You're gonna lose your chance." Claire singsongs quietly.

“Shut up,” he grumbles.

Seven days pass by like that. Every day Court contemplates and practices how to ask you out, while talking to you through the transceiver every other night. Claire badgers him that she can help, but he doesn't accept it. So instead, she suggests having breakfast and dinner at the cafe during your shifts after one week of Court's no-show-courting. Court comprises by deciding they'll additionally have breakfast on Mondays and dinner on Saturdays.

They did, and nothing has yet to happen.

It’s Saturday again, it now heavily dawns on Court that he is still at square one for two weeks straight. Even though he has no experience, he sure as hell knows it doesn't take this long to ask someone out on a date.

"I'll ask (N/N) out if you don't get your balls together and just do it." Claire snarls with a mouthful of brown rice.

Court is appalled by her vulgarity, but he doesn't chide her for it. If even Claire has reached her frustration limit, he's no longer at square one— he's down to square negative five.

"I'll do it after dinner," he declares, frowning determinedly.

She snorts incredulously. "I'll believe it when it even happens."

You're serving them dessert by the time they finish dinner. "Enjoy our delightful dulce de leche cake roll!" you beam and swivel around, only to turn back to them when Court calls you. "Yes?"

"Can I talk to you in private?"

"Whatever it is you have to say to me, you can say it in front of Kiara!"

He blinks at you. "What?"

You snicker. "She said that you might ask me something, so she told me to say those words to you."

Court glances between the two of you before settling to scowl at the younger girl. "When did you even have time to tell her?!" he demands, unsure whether to feel betrayed, horrified, or amazed.

"Doesn't matter," Claire wolfishly grins.

"So, what is it?" you ask, looking straight at him.

Systems critical— yet his heart starts drumming like it's in a rock concert even though his brain is malfunctioning from having eye contact with you. He averts his gaze to compose himself, quietly breathing in and out, he rises from his seat and stands in front of you.

What a bad decision. You're too close.

"I..." he trails off, reddening. "Will you..?— Um.. you see, I.."

Claire facepalms, both embarrassed and vexed at her surrogate father.

"Are you having a stroke? Just spill it out, Kurt." you laugh.

He notices Claire mouthing something at him—

If you won't ask her, I will.

Court gulps, gazing into your eyes, he tightens his jaw. Here goes nothing..

"(Y/N), will you go on a d—?"

"Honey, I'm home!"

A guy brusquely bursts in the cafe, Court recognizes his voice even though he only heard it once, and you facepalm to hide your pink cheeks. “Para kang tanga, tol. Sabi na huwag kang gaganyan habang shift ko pa,” you chide the guy as he strides to your side.

You’re like an idiot, dude. I told you to not do that when it’s still my shift,

He snickers. “Ba’t ‘tol’ tawag mo sa jowa mo?” and pecks you on the forehead.

Why are you calling your boyfriend ‘dude’?

You frivolously wipe the spot he shortly put his lips on. “Firstly, Erick, you’re not my boyfriend. Secondly, don’t kiss me without permission.” you frown and jab him on the stomach.

Unbeknownst to you and Erick, but knownst to Claire, Court’s world has ruptured with spiderweb cracks. He feels as though he’s the one whom you struck in the gut; he’s kinda debating whether or not he can ask you to punch him in order to wake up from this stupidly horrifying dream. But then Court realizes that if he puts his head through the wall to wake himself up, reality is going to seep in and burn into every crevice of his brain.

And reality is much harsher than the nightmare he thinks he’s in.

He’s a little too late.

“Court, what were you going to ask?”

Your voice, smooth like the silk strangling his throat, reels him out of his daze. Court tries not to focus on Erick’s arm on your shoulders and mulls over what to say. “I was gonna ask if.. there’s still some strawberry shortcake left for a takeout.” he replies with a small, forced smile.

He thought only Claire could see through him. But you stare at his tight-lipped demeanor as though you understand what’s happening.

Nevertheless, you don’t know why.

“Y-Yeah, there’s still half of the cake left.” you say, glancing at Claire, who can’t even muster a fake smile.

“Can I get two slices from that? One for you and me,” Erick chimes in, winking down on you, squeezing you closer to his side.

“Actually, I was going to buy all of the half.” Court interjects crisply.

There’s a heat in his tone that you and Erick sense immediately. You internally muse that it’s either Court is really adamant about having more strawberry shortcake or there’s something else amiss. 

“Forgive my dad.. (N/N) got him addicted to strawberry shortcake.” Claire laughs to extinguish the growing tension.

“Sorry, dude, customers first.” you elbow Erick’s side with a snicker.

“I’ll just ask you to make some,” he coos, aiming to kiss you on the cheek.

You shove his face away. “And I’ll make you pay for the ingredients.”

“As long as you get to bake me some.”

“I’ll make you pay for the cake, too.”

“You’re a horrible girlfriend.”

“Thank you!”

Erick grumbles about going to the kitchen for free food and strict, workaholic girlfriends. He’s about to turn, but you hop to your tip-toes and peck him on the cheek.

You face the father-daughter duo while Erick becomes a statue as though he made eye contact with Medusa. “I’ll be right back with the cake!” you beam, “Are you gonna pay at the counter or..?”

“At the counter,” Court replies, glancing at Erick still frozen on his spot.

“Great!”

Once the cake has been boxed, you escort the father-daughter duo out of the cafe. The warm air instantly decks the chillness from the cafe, Court wishes he can punch that guy you're dating just as easily. But the one who deserves a broken nose is himself.

This is what he gets for stalling. No matter how nervous and unprepared he is, he should've just asked you out. Because knowing you, you'd understand why he would suck at dating and liking someone. You'll probably laugh at him, but not in any way contemptuous, and reassure him that you can guide him in dating.

The only problem— the reason why Court keeps putting off asking you out— is: would you have said yes?

“See you two next week!” you grin and wave at them like a child.

“(N/N), can we talk later on the walkie? Here’s the channel and the passcode,” Claire hands you a folded piece of paper, trying to sound enthusiastic instead of disappointed. "Tell me all about your boy toy!"

“More like a boy tool,” you roll your eyes.

“Why is that? Are you just dating him for kicks?” Claire questions, quite enthusiastic.

You snort. “Dating is the definition of ‘for kicks’.”

Claire shortly shoots Court a pointed look, practically shouting at him that he still has a chance, and he turns his head away, trying to drown out her silent bellows. If that’s what you think while dating that tool, then what would you be thinking while dating him?

“So,” Claire intones, hesitant. “You don’t like Erick the tool?”

“I like him.. but not enough to say he’s my boyfriend.”

“Will you like him enough to be your boyfriend?”

“Claire,” Court says in a warning tone.

“What?” she snaps.

“You don’t have to answer her.” he informs you reassuringly.

“No, it’s alright. This is a ‘who knows’ situation,” you shrug, regarding Court for a full five seconds, you then turn to Claire. “There’s a chance, but time will tell. Erick knows it as well.”

You suddenly look at Court and Claire as though you’ve had an epiphany. Court becomes nauseated, thinking that you’re already contemplating on marrying the tool you’re dating.

“Hey, what do you know, that rhymes!” you exclaim with a laugh.

Court stands corrected.

“See you next week, (N/N).” says Claire, stifling a grin.

You wave. “See ya’!”

When Court drives the SUV out into the street, he instinctively glances at the cafe and sees Erick taking the tray full of plates from you. He’s telling something to the customers, maybe explaining his relationship with you. The customers laugh and remark it’s sweet, while you’re blushing and trying to snatch the tray back from Erick.

Claire witnesses the scene before Court harshly steps on the accelerator, rushing the SUV away. He switches on the radio, combing through the channels that don’t have any love songs playing, and Claire slumps into the passenger seat, crossing her arms with a sigh.

“This one’s on you.” she declares dejectedly and stares out the window.

Court grimaces. “Undoubtedly so..”

Claire turns to him. “I’m on (N/N)’s side until you realize how stupid you are for stalling,” and smirks.

“I already do realize it.”

“Well, that’s not enough. Unbuckle your seatbelt, drive really fast, and then hit the brakes so hard you’ll fly out of the windshield.”

“Why are you so violent when it comes to me?”

“'Cuz you’re always asking for it.”

A/N: uh-oh~ you, the reader, have a boyfriend guy you're dating. will you and Erick last long?

ANYWAY~ good to be back! how was the chapter? hopefully yall enjoyed it and don't worry about the next chapter, i'll be posting them later or tomorrow (probably)

Here is the portal to Chapter 12- except it's NOT still in the drafts NO MORE

✨TAGLIST✨

@kat-thepoet @queenofhellhasrisen @sierrasixwife @vallyb @lyuir @yvxcy @justareaderdude @sortinghats @sortingharryshairclip

*to those who want to be in the taglist, check out the guidelines at the Masterlist pls („ಡωಡ„) thankyousomuch