zoo hq: daryl x reader

chapter nine

today was the day.

valentine's day.

it was your first valentine's day being in a relationship. and it was with daryl, no less!

you had gotten everything ready. you'd set out the tortilla chips. you'd queued up the movie 'to all the denim vests i've loved before'. you'd put on your favorite red sweater. you'd made your dad promise to leave the house for the afternoon.

now all that was left was to wait.

and wait.

and wait.

and wait.

okay, so maybe you could have been a little slower on the getting ready process. but no matter. a little spare time never hurt anyone. you pulled out your copy of darilee's baby.

you found it a bit hard to focus on the story though. your mind was constantly drifting towards daryl. you found yourself reading the same sentence over and over. you found yourself reading the same sentence over and over. you found yourself reading the same—

you shut the book and pulled your phone out of your pocket. daryl was 3 whole minutes late!

this was so unlike him. daryl's number one priority is punctuality. well, after flared jeans. and golden pocket watches. and vests. and cotton green t-shirts. and his luscious, brown lips—

okay, maybe punctuality was a bit further down on the list. but still, you started to get anxious.

what if daryl had finally come to his senses and abandoned you? what if he was at La Boquita beach in Nicaragua with some beach babe? and the beach babe had sandy blonde hair? and a white smile with a chipped tooth? and a cute laugh? and what if the beach babe had taught daryl how to surf? and now daryl was riding 13 foot waves on the pacific coast? and what if the saltwater was lightly spraying his gorgeous, tanned face? and what if he was shirtless? and what if his denim shorts were all wet and were clinging to muscular legs?

woo. that thought made you start to sweat. you pulled the collar of your red sweater away from your neck and fanned yourself.

the doorbell rang.

you jumped so hard that you dropped your book on the floor. hurriedly wiping your sweaty palms on your jeans, you opened the door.

and there was daryl in all his glory. denim vest, flared jeans, cotton green t-shirt, pocket watch, and all. looking closely at his vest, you saw that it was hemmed with a deep red thread. he was a festive lad.

"happy valentine's day, y/n!" he said cheerily.

he handed you a basket tied with a red denim bow . (where on earth had he found a red denim bow?) you took it graciously and peered inside. there was every delectable treat you could possibly imagine.

"i hope you like it," daryl said. "there's chocolate peanut butter balls, chocolate peanut butter truffles, peanut butter chocolate chip cookies, peanut butter m&ms, and peanut butter chocolate tortilla chips."

you stared at him, mouth agape. "daryl, you shouldn't have."

"anything for you, my love," he said modestly.

"no, really, you shouldn't have. i'm allergic to nuts."

"you're aller—oh my god...oh my god. you're allergic to nuts." he started pacing around your front door anxiously. he collapsed onto the step and held his head in his hands.

"i could have killed you," he said in a small voice.

"daryl," you said softly. you joined him on the step and put your arm around him. "it's okay. everyone makes mistakes. i don't blame you at all. it's my fault for not telling you."

daryl didn't reply.

"how about we go inside? i have some strawberries. we can melt chocolate chips and dip them. does that sound okay?"

daryl at last lifted his head and smiled at you. "yes. it does."

•••

this is what perfection feels like. to be on the couch, cradled in daryl's arms, watching 'to all the denim vests i've loved before', and eating chocolate strawberries.

you could feel daryl's breath against your hair. you turn around to look at him.

"what is it, baby?" he asks, noticing your gaze.

"nothing. just admiring."

daryl's eyes fill with love. for everyone out there claiming that their ship has heart eyes, you're lying. this is heart eyes.

he gently pushes your hair out of your face, cups your jaw in his perfect hand, and he presses his lips to yours.

daryl tastes like strawberries and chocolate. he tastes like the flutter in your heart that you get whenever you get a text from him and the butterflies that erupt in your stomach whenever you see him. he tastes like the sensation of relief from finally finding the person you've been looking for your entire life. he tastes like the happiness you feel from knowing that you are loved. daryl tastes like warmth, peace, and joy.

and all was well.