Hear Me Out.

This is your signal to let yourself write the deranged, uncomfortable, disgusting fiction that you've been thinking about.

Wildflowers

Pairing- Daryl Dixon x GN! Reader

Summary- Quiet memories and flowers

TW- none really, curses once or twice

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The pair looks across the open field, memories flooding back of when they had first met- you, half-dead all on your own, but alive. And Daryl, his crossbow pointed to your head and his eyes guarded as they always were. You both just stood there, tension crackling in the air as one waited for any sublte movement from the other. Your breath had caught when he shot, of course expecting the worst from this strange, roughed-up looking man. A muffled thud and rustle of grass behind you convinced you to breath again, noticing- wow. You weren't dead [somehow]!

It was quiet now, the air stinging with a sharp cold and the rotting smell of walkers that had passed through the area.

Despite the almost dead air, the sight was a needed break from the crumbled buildings and long-forgotten cities and towns you'd see every day. Wildflowers- pops of yellows and hazy blues grew with an enviable freedom, and the sun caught on the tips of the dense grass. The earthy scent in the air was noticable, subtle touches of wild mint and freshly watered grass. As if the world hadn't gone to shit. As if folks weren't dying everyday in horrific ways.

"I thought you were some fallen angel when I first saw 'ya," you tease quietly, the soft hush of wind a soothing whisper for peace, even if fleeting.

"I thought you were alrea'y dead," Daryl responded gruffly, his eyes on the horizon.

You give a soft chuckle. That was fair. Your body was caked in mud and blood- both yours and of walkers. Being all out on your own, focused on the slightest shuffle of feet that could mean life or death, you weren't exactly putting a lot of effort into lookin' pretty.

"Still," You continued, your eyes following the other's to the fading sky. "Why didn't you shoot me then?"

Silence once more draped the pair like a weather-worn blanket. You glanced at him, trying to figure out why he didn't answer. Did he just not hear? Was he ignoring you? Or maybe he just didn't have an answer?

You didn't get a response, as Daryl then began making his way back to the grazing horses you two had arrived on. You blinked, unsure if to be slightly offended or just sum it up to Daryl's odd personality, though followed him anyways. It's not smart to be out at night.

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A/N~ agrhagrgabsg haii! Thank you for reading! This is my first fic, so... wow! I got unneedingly nervous posting this.

I'm not entirely sure if this is just a drabble or the start to a fic, because, to be entirely fair, I am winging all of this [as I'm sure many of us are]. I also was trying to add images, but I couldn't figure out how to make them smaller. Sorry chat 😔. Hopefully more works like these soon, though [and taking less time]!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.

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:

I'd Rather Be Sleeping

Pairing- Daryl x GN! Medic! Reader

Summary- As tired as you are, it's still your job to help those who need it as medic. You're unsure whether to be grateful or not it's someone you're constantly bantering with, though.

TW- off-character Daryl? Mentions of blood and medical procedures

A/N~ wow I don't know how to conclude stories lol 😔 this was meant to be out like a week ago but I accidently just kept extending the story. Oh well!

The casual ruckus of being pulled around from place to place was an endless energy you were used to. Whether it be something as simple as a few scratches or having to amputate someone's arm without hesitation, you were there. With the way everybody always seemed to need you, being one of the few remaining doctors, it'd be easy to think you never got any rest. This is normally true. Not today, however.

You were, admittedly, quite proud of yourself as you sat back with a deep sigh. The plush of the couch was slightly rustic, but *so* much better than how you'd be on your feet. Moving quickly from place to place with adrenaline rushing through your system for hours at a time wasn't something you'd recommend for fun. You had, finally, for the first time in who knows how long, gotten some time to yourself. Where all other scrapes of time had been spent passed out on the nearest surface, sometimes even standing up, being able to just breath felt like watching a sunset on a Californian beach. Something beautiful that you had earned, a soft smile playing your lips as you felt your eyelids begin to weigh down.

The cool air still lingered with the heat of the day, mixing into almost a blanket-like warmth to the atmosphere. The sky faded into one of those classic pinkish-yellow pastels that you'd expect to see in those cheesy romance movies, but you couldn't complain. The soft colours were much nicer than the deep red of draining blood you saw oh-too-often. Old springs gave muffled creaks as you shifted on the faded sofa, welcoming the idea of a restful sleep you've been so deprived of for the past weeks.

Which you *would've had*, if not for the door shooting open like a stray bullet, startling you and almost toppling off the couch.

"So sorry to bug you, but, uhm- the archer guy just come back from their scavenging, and- well, he's not looking too good."

You stuff your face in the couch cushions and groan with a tired longing before forcing yourself up, rubbing your temples and brushing off the young recruit.

"Mhm, yeah," you mumble, your body fighting with the urge to just let the person go but knowing you had a job to do. Your feet moved quickly to the medical tent almost on instinct, already knowing who to expect there but holding onto that sliver of hope that maybe it was just your sleep-deprived mind playing with you.

No. Of course not. You were a doctor, it was your job to keep tabs on people who frequently visited. And Daryl Dixon was one of them.

Okay. Maybe you were overexaggerating how often he ended up in the medical tent, with the way he was so good on his own. And even if he did get injured, it was usually something small, or he patched himself up. But it only took you one time to watch him try to stitch a deep cut on his own that you decided, yeah, he needed more help than he'd let himself.

Your relationship was... *interesting*, to put it politely. You maybe pushed a bit too much to make sure he was alright, which resulted in pointless banter between the two of you often. But to be fair, it was for his own good! He claimed he didn't need help, you said he was gonna get himself infected. He got himself infected as you said, and you scolded him. He refused your medical knowledge for his pride and you tended to him in spite of it. The whole while throwing meaningless insults at each other. Regardless- there was still a mutual respect for the work you both did.

"Daryl," you greeted with that hint of fading tolerance you held special for him.

He only gave a quiet huff to acknowledge your presence, always hating 'wasting time' in the medical tent.

"Charming as ever, I see," you mutter under your breath, your eyes examining the man infront of you with a trained practice for any immediate signs of injury. It's not hard to notice the way he favours his right side, his lower left arm covered in blood and dirt and shrapnel and whatever else he got into in those woods.

You give a soft click of your tongue, not sure whether to ask what happened or make fun of the usually so-careful archer.

"'What, 'cha explode somethin' recently?" You give a soft scoff of amusement, moving beside him to begin taking out the shards impaling his skin. Your hands move with a careful though quick ease, noting the way Daryl tenses and takes a quiet breath in, though refuses to give any signs he's in pain.

"You'd be interested too if'ya saw a firework stand just waitin' there," He rolls his eyes as if the answer was obvious. "You can do a lot with a lighter. You certainly seem to know that," He teases, poking fun at the way you accidentally set your tent on fire last week. You could still feel the flickering hear of the flames that had grown much quicker than you had thought would've. Thankfully, there wasn't really any lasting damage beside some light burns on your hands and arms and getting scolded.

You give a light hum, a smirk playing on your lips as the air between you sparks with a playful challenge.

"Fireworks, huh? That's a shame, then. Maybe if you had stepped a bit closer-"

"Maybe if you had been in the stand when it happened-"

"Maybe if you had taken me with you, I would've-"

"Maybe if- *ow*-"

"Sorry."

You finished taking out the shrapnel, now cleaning the dirt and blood off with a rag. The sharp sting of hydrogen peroxide you used to help clean the wounds took Daryl off guard, the banter dropping from there.

Minutes passed in a comfortable silence as you worked, Daryl just watching with a faint interest as you applied some salve to the worst of the cuts and bruises.

"M'kay, well..." You hum, after a bit, taking a step back to check if you missed anything. "I'd say try to take it easy, but I doubt you'll do that."

Daryl stands up and stretches, your eyes darting away and trying to ignore the way his torn clothes and toned body is unfairly hot- what, who said that-

"'S jus'a few scratches. On'y reason I'm 'ere 's 'cause your little assistant got nervous," the archer spoke plainly, moving to stand at the entrance way of the medical tent. The sun had went from a bright, hot afternoon, to a more hazy evening. The sky dripped with pastels that faded into each other, seconds slowly dragging the sun down the horizon alike curtains closing on a performance. The bustle of the people usually constant had now lessened as daylight waned with the persistent progression of time.

"Kyle?" You chuckle softly, remembering the way the young protégé had burst into the room when you were so ready for some proper rest. He was definetly a bit jumpier than what you'd recommend for the tasks he wanted to learn, but he was so insistent and determined... who were you to deny one knowledge of healing? "He means well. Just a bit nervous," you summed up. Daryl just gave a quiet grunt of acknowledgement, silence falling onto both once more.

You leaned on a nearby tree that provided shade in the hotter days as the year grew closer to summer. The lack of talk between you two was normal- you didn't really need to to feel comfortable with the other- but today's seemed... different, in a way. The noiseless air stretched on, and you glanced at Daryl only to see him quickly look away when you caught his eye. He looked as if he wanted to say something. He had a lot recently- lingering near the medical tent, fidgeting with the hem of his torn jacket as if waiting for the right moment to approach you. But for the past week, you've been busy and tired and just looking for the next moment of rest. Looking back, you felt a bit bad you didn't pay as much attention as you usually did to the loner.

You shift in your spot, the silence evolving to be more awkward than before.

"...you alright?" You speak out of nowhere.

"What? Uh- yeah. 'Course," Daryl scoffed, shoving his hands in his pockets and watching as the sun began to dip on the edge of the sky.

"Riiiight," you hummed, though laying off on the question. Maybe another time. For now, all you could do was take in the fading daylight and finally let yourself rest.

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

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

Please draw your oc x canon please be unashamedly loud about it please post it without embarrassment please make dramatic emotional edits of them please indulge yourself

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.