Listen Up!

Daryl with a partner who gets depressive episodes but not like crying all the time or laying around they just go silent. And like. Everyone's concerned because what do you mean you went quiet? No no no, the excitable guy over there? You've got the wrong person.

Still going on runs and pulling their weight where they stay, but just. Silent. Lingering a bit too much.

And Daryl doesn't know really what to do with it. He can barely healthily deal with his own emotions, comforting someone else is a big bite to chew. But he still tries. Maybe just staying with them. Nudging them with a water canister or some spare food to make sure they're eating and drinking, even if they're too zoned out to realize they're doing it. Staying by them, a mutual dampened air that's bittersweet and tainted with unspoken complications. But it's better, not being alone. It helps.

Fuck it we ball [I don't wanna keep rewriting it 9373838 times so I'll just edit it while it's up]

you're JOKING I accidentally just deleted the masterlist I was working on forever now 💔💔💔💔💔💔

OBSESSED with a reader who is so stupidly oblivious you wanna strangle them. With someone trying to hit on them, be it shy and subtle or loud and extravagant, and they just don't get it. Something else they don't get. Why the other character gets so flustered when they so easily hum 'Mm, that's nice, darlin' or 'thanks, love'.

PLEASE. More characters who use nicknames like it's people's proper names. Who is an idiot when it comes to love, not in a soft submissive way, but in a way that they just love so much the have trouble discerning the lines of romantic and platonic.

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

"What. The fuck."

"What?"

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

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

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

calling all pookies🗣️ calling all pookies🗣️

welcome to our first ever (solo) Gaz writing! school is kind of whooping my ass rn, so I wanted to write this for yall to hold you over until I’m able to get a longer fic out. Logan x reader won the last poll, so that one will be posted first :) not sure when, but I won’t let yall go a week without feeding you don’t worry🙏

My Masterlist🌱

Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick x chubby!transmasc!reader

“Taste good, sweetheart?” Gaz teases when he sees a smile on your lips for the first time after tasting one of the drinks. Your face has soured after trying each and every one he brought you- but he finally found some fruity seltzer that would probably suit your palate much better.

“Mhm!” You hum sweetly, perfectly content as you sipped your drink. “It doesn’t burn going down like all the other ones did.” You hum as you read the nutrition label.

He chuckles, taking a sip of his beer as his eyes roam over your form. “You’re cutest when you’re happy.” He says with a glint in his eyes, knowing you could hear him, even over the music of the party.

Your cheeks heated up as your eyes met his own, and your smile quickly grew tenfold, much to his enjoyment. He’d been with enough men in his life to know that a man without a massive ego was a rare find. When he found a kind, humble little thing like you? He knew he couldn’t let you go. Let alone how your smile made his heart race, and how you unintentionally looked at him like you wanted to fuck him. He knew it wasn’t intentional- he mentioned ‘bedroom eyes’ once and you had no idea what he meant. It’s the fact that you’re oblivious to how charming you are- that’s what got him riled up.

Kyle was such a good friend, you often thought to yourself. He was caring, protective, and actually emotionally available which was a major plus. He always made your tummy flutter when he teased you, and your chest burn when he touched you. You couldn’t help but stare at him sometimes- he was so goddamn pretty. Sure, you’d thought about if things had gone any farther.. but doesn’t everyone imagine that?

After two cans of your now favorite drink, Gaz could tell how much more relaxed you were. Your smile was less tight, and limbs not as stiff. The little gleam in your eye was as bright as ever, clearly enjoying your surroundings, filled with loud music and flashing lights. You didn’t seem like the party type- but here you were having fun. He watches as you take the last sip of your drink, looking slightly disappointed before turning to him. “Could I have another?” You asked ever so sweetly.

He should’ve said no. He should’ve cut you off. But he couldn’t stand to tell you anything but ‘of course’ as he went to grab you another one. But what he didn’t expect, was to come back and see Soap at your side, a devious look in his eye like always. He was clearly drunk, and not shy about flirting with you. When Gaz walks over, he smirks as he watches Soap try to enamor you- but it’s clear you’re too sweet for your own good.

“Lad- Christ, yer cu’e as a button” Johnny grins as he looks down at you, his arm on the wall you were leaning back against. When you giggle softly, he practically beams, very proud of himself. “An’ listen t’ya? Wee little thing ya’ are.” He teases.

Soap’s smile made your own grow, a little ray of sunshine smiling up at him, not even noticing the very obvious hard on in his pants. “Your eyes are such a pretty shade of blue” you said softly, and Gaz could practically see Johnny short circuit. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go- he wasn’t supposed to get genuine compliments. His cheeks flushed red and he stepped back slightly, rubbing the back of his neck with a shy smile. Gaz swoops back in, handing you your drink and slipping a hand around your waist to guide you away from the party. “Bye Johnny!” You’d called out sweetly behind you, Soap trying to gather himself as he takes a slow sip of his drink, watching as Gaz whisks you away.

You smile as you look around the room, admiring the atmosphere as Gaz guides you along the wall until you reach an area with multiple couches. He sits down on one, pulling you to sit next to him. By this point he’s too drunk to care about the fact that you’re ‘just friends’, and he wraps his arm around your shoulders, holding you close against his side. You giggle at the contact, taking a sip of your fresh drink with a hum. He looks down at you with a contented smile, unable to hide how he was gazing at you like you were everything. “Drink slow.” He murmurs against your ear.

You nod with a smile before taking another tiny sip, your mind fuzzy from the alcohol. You were feeling so much lighter than usual, and it was clear by your next words you were feeling much less rational. “You make me mad sometimes.” You say nonchalantly.

His smile quickly shifts, and his head tilts slightly as he looks down at you. “What did I do this time?” He asks exasperatedly.

You huff, resting your head on his shoulder. “I mean, you’re all touchy.” You mutter, and Kyle quickly feels guilt wracking through him. You didn’t like it? He could’ve sworn you always seemed happy- never uncomfortable. He quickly starts to move his arm off of your shoulders, but your words stop him. “You’re all nice and sweet to me but you don’t even have a crush on me.” You mutter. “It’s not fair. I barely get attention from anyone, and here you come thinking you can give me extra tight hugs and I won’t fall in love with you.” You ramble, clearly tipsy. “Isn’t that mean? Leaving me wanting to hold you and I don’t even get to.” You huff.

Now it’s his turn for his brain to short circuit. Christ in heaven, he had never met someone that could be so honest with their feelings. He wouldn’t put it past you to say something like that when you’re sober either. You had a knack for catching people off guard- and this was one of those times. He thinks for a moment, his own thought process slowed by the alcohol in his system. “What makes you think I don’t have a crush on you?” He asks softly.

You roll your eyes and take another sip of your drink. “Well I don’t know.” You mutter. “I saw a few magazines in your room one day.. sexy firefighters and all that. I’m not your type.” You say quietly. But before he can say anything, you start up again. “And I mean hey- I get it! Firefighters are hot. I’d want to fuck them too. They’re.. they’re really hot actually.” You mutter quietly, as if imagining it in your mind. “But- but you’re hot too!” You snap suddenly, sitting up and turning to look at him. “And it’s so mean that a hot guy flirts with a not hot guy- because like- I don’t know! I don’t know why it’s mean, it just feels mean.” You huff, and Gaz can see a hint of a pout on your lips. “I mean- I like it.. but don’t do it- because it makes me like you.”

The alcohol was definitely getting to you. And it was getting to him too. His pants grew tighter at the thought of you finding him hot. Of course he knew he was conventionally attractive- but he’d been told in the past he was too pretty. Too perfect. And he couldn’t help but wonder if you wouldn’t find him attractive either. “Hey- hey” he says with a small chuckle. “I keep those magazines more for- um.. body goals.” He admits sheepishly.

You blink at him owlishly as you look up at him. “Like.. for me?” You mutter with confusion, making him laugh.

“No, dumbass” he grins. “For me.”

You let out a breath of air, taking another sip of your drink. “Don’t you already look like that?” You asked softly.

And he had to admit. That made his ego inflate a good bit. He had been trying to achieve a perfect standard for his body- because he knew he was capable of it. But.. sometimes it didn’t feel the best. And it would eat away at him. Knowing you already saw him like that? It felt good. “Maybe a little.” He smiles shyly, rubbing the back of his neck. “And for the record?” He murmurs. “I do have a crush on you.”

Your eyes widen slightly and you quickly sip on your drink. “Oh.” You whisper faintly. “So.. why aren’t we dating?” You asked with genuine (drunken) curiosity.

His eyebrows raise slightly and huffs, letting out a weak laugh. “I didn’t think it was that easy.” He murmurs with a small smile.

You nod, shifting to sit back next to him once again, your head on his shoulder. “Want to stay in my room tonight?” You asked softly, the question light and innocent. His heart immediately sped up, and he nodded before placing a small kiss to the top of your head.

And that was how the two of you ended up in your room a few hours later. You had gotten changed into your comfiest pjs, an oversized sweatshirt and sweatpants. You’d given Gaz a sweatshirt as well, even though it was a little big on him he loved it all the same. You’d given him your hello kitty sweatpants to wear, while you got to wear the Batman ones (he secretly wanted the hello kitty ones anyways).

You were both sitting facing each other on your bed, you closest to the head and him closer to the foot of the bed. It was honestly adorable to him how giggly you were, and he had no idea but he himself was pretty giggly too. The two of you had been cycling through your entire pile of stuffed animals, making him learn all of their names. Holding a little platypus, you looked at Gaz with a challenge in your eyes. “If you remember it you can hold him while we sleep” you smirk.

Gaz’s eyes quickly narrow as he looks at the brown, rounded plushie, racking his brain trying to remember. “Fucking hell.. I do want to hold that one.” He huffs. “Peanut?” He says hesitantly. And he knows it’s game over when your smirk widens.

“So close yet so far” you grin. “Walnut.”

He groans, letting himself flop onto the bed in defeat. When you start laughing he quickly pulls you down with him, making you squeal playfully as he starts to tickle you lightly. You laugh loudly against him as you try to push him off, eventually grabbing one of your biggest stuffed animals and wacking him with it, making him release a small ‘oof’.

When he gets up onto his knees again with a grin, he gently tosses your plushies onto the bed, yanking you into his arms. “You’re the only plushie I need” he murmurs as he holds you close.

You giggle sweetly, turning around in his arms so you’re sitting in between his legs, his chest to your back. You grab your phone and open your camera, grinning as widely as you can as you lift up your arm to take a picture of the two of you. He smiles at your antics, looking up at the camera and giving his dashing debonair smile. “What’s that for?” He asks after the fact, placing a small kiss to your shoulder as his arms wrap around your soft tummy.

You turn to kiss his cheek while his head rests on your shoulder with a soft smile. “You might wake up tomorrow and you won’t like me anymore” you say softly. “I want to remember this, you know? I’ve never had a guy let me tell him about my plushies. Or about how Walnut is my favorite.” You giggle softly.

He smiles at your laugh, but your words make his heart heavy. Were you truly so starved of affection that you were scared of losing it already? “This isn’t a one time thing, okay?” He says softly, pressing a light kiss to your neck. “I’m planning on keeping you around.” He murmurs. “Even if it’s just for Walnut.” He smirks, making you very gently bonk your head against his own.

“Meanie.” you giggle, making him grab you harder and pull you with him up to the head of the bed. “Kyle!” You laugh as he makes you get under the covers with him. “I wanted to watch a movie” you whine playfully.

He grins, holding you tightly against him as the little spoon so you can’t escape. “Nope. It’s bedtime. And I want cuddles.” He says against your ear. You huff, but reach out to grab Walnut, hugging him against your chest.

You playfully kick his leg before settling into his hold, and realizing how nice and warm he felt. “Fine. But.. only because I’m a little sleepy. Not because you told me you.” You mutter, and before you know it, you’re dozing off with Kyle’s arms around you and his face buried against your neck.

the logan fic will be up next ! if it takes longer than expected i’ll drop another mini writing like this one :) love you guys!!

p.s.

here is Walnut irl:

Guys I NEED. A fic with Sanji and Reader skating/ice skating and Sanji turns out to be not so good at it. Sure he picks up pretty fast, he's good on his feet, but he's still clumsy and just haaappensss to need to hold onto them. The fact he falls and accidentally brings you down with him is purely coincidental, he swears!! He's still gonna apologize a thousand times and treat you to your favourite meal, though.

Had this idea for a while now-

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

Short drabble from this :p

You don't notice him for quite a while. The occassional rustle of overgrown grass from the wind and a distant crackle of water falling unto the rocky shore below it had faded into a calming soundtrack as you thought. An embarrassing amount of time, really, until Daryl lightly nudged your shoulder, worried how you weren't blinking for a concerning amount of time.

You blinked a few times before looking at him. You watched how he faltered a moment, an awkward beat, before he spoke.

"You okay?" His voice was still that rough southern you were used to, but still held that edge of softness that spoke better than anything words could.

You bit the inside of your cheek, eyes flickering back to the hazy moonlight. Breathing felt heavier in your chest, as if a boulder was tight against your chest. Not as if you were about to cry. More so... a long fought-off tired feeling. It was an uphill battle.

"I'd be lying if I say 'yes'," You finally admit, a failing attempt at a smile catching your lips a moment.

Hazy mornings grew to hazy nights, unable to remember what you did in-between the passing of time. You did something, you're sure. At least, you think are you. You can recall... hm. Not much. A few passing words. Blood of the walkers, staining your hands before being washed away in the river you and Daryl always passed by on your runs. The rustic, mucky colour that spelt of both blood and dirt swirled in the coursing water for seconds before dissipating into the quick pace of the stream.

You let out a tight breath, willing away emotions that so rudely clinged onto you like mosquitos in the summer. It felt worse, how it wasn't a need to cry or be angry, either. It tightened your lungs and made breathing feel like a labour, and sleep sounded of the finest wine- a perfect ailment, though unobtainable in your situation.

Daryl's knee tapped yours, words stuck in both your throats, but not needing to be said. He was there, and he saw you. The same way the sun rises unto flowers neglected each morning, the same way the moon glows in the comfort of night. Simple, but relevant.

And that was really all you needed.

Daryl with a partner who gets depressive episodes but not like crying all the time or laying around they just go silent. And like. Everyone's concerned because what do you mean you went quiet? No no no, the excitable guy over there? You've got the wrong person.

Still going on runs and pulling their weight where they stay, but just. Silent. Lingering a bit too much.

And Daryl doesn't know really what to do with it. He can barely healthily deal with his own emotions, comforting someone else is a big bite to chew. But he still tries. Maybe just staying with them. Nudging them with a water canister or some spare food to make sure they're eating and drinking, even if they're too zoned out to realize they're doing it. Staying by them, a mutual dampened air that's bittersweet and tainted with unspoken complications. But it's better, not being alone. It helps.

So stereotypical man knows how to fix stuff, yeah? Like, helping if the washing machine broke or the toilet or the sink has a leaky pipe.

Daryl does not know how to do this. He was never taught, understandably.

I think it'd make a cute drabble with Daryl x Reader where maybe one of the group [Alexandria era] is talking about how a pipe in their house is leaking and they all sorta maybe kinda glance at Daryl because he seems to know how to do a lot of stuff. And he just clams up awkwardly, before Reader mentions they know how to fix stuff like that and offer to do it for them.

And ofc later when Reader's fixing it, Daryl's watching as they narrate what they're doing.

It may or may not be hot to him

Sighing because I wanna write for a different fandom but I'd hate to accidentally mischaracterize a character even though I know people don't care but. Like. 😔 I dunno what if I say someone likes the colour blue only to later find out they have a horrible trauma response from blue. Dude. Don't even joke because I just have such ass luck like that.