Storiesofthev01d - Oh! The Void Tells Stories, Too...

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.

*throws this at you because I haven't been writing*

UGH Connie, my beloved<3 I know the show has barely just introduced you but I don't trust them stay safe out their soldier 🫡

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

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.

WHY is one piece taking over my BRAIN. STOP. I have TOO MANT DRAFTS with Daryl to just abandon them now 😭

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.

Wow i love moths so much <3

I didn't do it at 12 am sharp 💔

Anyway

It's here

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

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