#daisy grimes
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Scott Street: Prologue - The Road to Atlanta (OC x TWD)
Daisy Grimes was only sixteen years old. She shouldn’t have had any more to worry about than — at least in her opinion — what was soon to be her parents' impending divorce. She was supposed to be drinking too much at parties her friends made her sneak out to, or being endlessly annoyed by her endearing yet infuriating little brother who had apparently made it his life’s mission to irritate his big sister to death. She was supposed to be worrying about college, or if she’d be asked to the dances, and whether or not she was going to beg her parents to finally get the family a cat for the sixteenth year in a row. Slowly but surely, Daisy was cracking away at their resolve, and she was sure this time that it finally was her year.
But then Daisy came home to the news that her Dad had been shot. And, as if that wasn’t enough to bring her world to a halt, an outbreak of a rapidly spreading virus took over the world while he was still in the hospital. Along with her family, Daisy was uprooted from her home and forced on the run where she had to fight to survive and keep her family safe every day, while still desperately grasping for some form of normalcy and domesticity.
Even after being reunited with her Dad and meeting new people who might not have been blood but certainly were still family, she realized her world would never be the same. As the days turned into weeks, weeks turned into months, months turned into years….Daisy changed.
And she wasn’t so sure that was a good thing anymore.
—
Walking Scott Street, feeling like a stranger
With an open heart, open container
I've got a stack of mail and a tall can
It's a shower beer, it's a payment plan
There's helicopters over my head
Every night when I go to bed
Spending money and I earned it
When I'm lonely, that's when I'll burn it
Do you feel ashamed
When you hear my name?
Anyway, don't be a stranger
Anyway, don't be a stranger
Don't be a stranger
—
Daisy couldn’t make it out the front door fast enough. She made the mistake of snoozing her alarm, which led to her missing the bus, and that led to her having to confront her already pissed off Mom to ask her for a ride to school.
On a normal day, Lori would have been happy to do so. It was rare that her daughter asked her for something, and even rarer that she actually volunteered to spend time with her. Lori could count the days on her fingers in the past few months that Daisy had actually stepped out of her room long enough to spend time with her. But at the end of the day, Lori couldn’t blame her. If she’d had to wake up to her parents bickering every morning, she’d have spent a lot more time hiding in her room listening to music too. She even considered it some mornings when her mind was still reeling from a petty argument with Rick the night before, but then she’d feel guilty and get up to make everyone pancakes before they started their day. She was determined that they were going to be the kind of family that got up to eat pancakes together, and she’d be damned if anything got in the way of that – even if it was her lack of cooking skills.
But today was not a normal day.
There were no pancakes on the table, or a family happily sitting down to eat them. Carl had already left, carpooling with the neighbor’s kid. Rick was running late for work too, fumbling around for his keys while Lori stood in the kitchen, still in her pajamas.
They had argued the night before – it was getting to be a regular occurrence at this point.
And, while they often shielded Carl from it, Daisy more often than not got an unwanted earful. This time, Daisy couldn’t even tell what they were arguing about. She had just woken up to the sound of bickering muffled through the wall. She’d managed to get herself dressed and ready for school in record time, and now she was standing by the front door waiting for the passive aggressive comments to stop so that she could actually make it to class on time. Her parents apparently were determined to make that quite the feat for her. She was debating swiping the keys to her Mom’s car and driving herself when she heard Lori mutter under her breath.
“I wish you would just say it.”
Daisy could hear Rick let out an impatient sigh from down the hall. “Say what, Lori?”
Lori scoffed, and Daisy could practically feel her eyes roll. “Whatever the hell it is you’re not saying. Just say it! Speak!”
“There’s nothing to say–”
“Oh, for the love of God,” Daisy whined for the third time that morning, pausing her parents' bickering. “Can you do this later? I’m gonna be late, and I have a test in first period.”
There was a pause, and she could hear the sound of Rick’s keys as he made his way to the kitchen. He and Lori spoke in a hushed whisper for a while, until that whisper was on the verge of shouting. After she got tired of tapping her foot on the floor for an eternity, Daisy finally marched into the kitchen to see what the argument was about for herself. Her cheeks flushed as she caught the tail end of her parent’s conversation, which came to an abrupt halt as Lori spoke in anger without thinking.
“Sometimes I wonder if you even care about us at all.”
Daisy backed out of the room and headed for the front door before she could even see the shared look of guilt on their faces. Lori sighed as the sound of Rick’s hurried footsteps followed Daisy out into the living room.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured, an awkward silence passing between him and his daughter. “You know she didn’t mean that. She’s just pissed at me, you know how she gets. It was my fault really.”
“It’s fine, Dad,” Daisy replied, her gaze set on the floor.
Another awkward silence passed as Daisy traced over the pattern on the rug with her eyes. Rick shifted back and forth uncomfortably, before placing a hand on Daisy’s shoulder. She reluctantly met his gaze, shrugging her shoulders.
“It’s fine,” she muttered, speaking under her breath. “Nothing I haven’t heard before.”
Rick’s face fell, and Daisy quickly headed for the kitchen before the guilt could settle into the pit in her stomach. She stuck her head around the corner, stopping in her tracks when she saw her Mom hastily wiping away tears from under her eyes. Lori’s lashes were still wet when Daisy backtracked to the front door where Rick was still waiting.
“I’m just gonna walk today,” she announced.
“Honey, no,” Lori tried to reason, fumbling around in the kitchen for her keys. “I’ll drive you. Just let me grab my purse.”
“It’s only a few blocks, I’ll be fine.”
Rick shook his head, agreeing with Lori. “Daisy, let your Mom take you. You’ll drive her insane if you don’t let her take care of you. It’s her way or the highway.”
Daisy could hear the attempt at humor in his voice. He was trying to make light of the situation, and Daisy could appreciate that. Her parents were trying to be civil and rational. She could see the effort they were putting in every day to try and work on how they spoke to each other, if not for themselves then for their kids. But something in his voice rubbed Daisy the wrong way, and she already had too much on her mind to add her parents fighting like children to the list.
Daisy snapped, spitting out poison. “You’d know all about that, wouldn’t you? You’d think you would have learned by now, Dad. I guess you can always try your luck next time.”
“Days–”
“What?” she spat, unlocking the front door as quickly as she could.
“Look at me.”
Daisy begrudgingly turned around, meeting her Dad’s stern gaze. His jaw was clenched, but he took a deep breath to calm himself down. He always did this – stared at her in silence until he was sure the next words either of them spoke wouldn’t be shouted. He’d used her nickname that only he got the free pass to use, knowing no one else had called her Days since she was little when she decided it sounded too childish. For whatever reason, Daisy could never bring herself to ask her Dad to stop using it. So he saved it for moments like these, when he wanted his little girl to take a breath and listen to him. It was his way of silently saying sorry for whatever it was that was happening between the two of them, and it worked almost every time.
Almost every time. Rick couldn’t even get a hand on her shoulder before Daisy was recoiling, pulling away from him.
“Just stop, Dad!” Daisy shouted, untangling her earbuds as she rambled. “I don’t need this shit today, alright? I’m already late. Please, just save the caring act for Carl. I’m sure he’s the only one in this house that still believes it. God knows I’ve seen it enough times to know that it’s bullshit, so just stop, okay? Go to work and play hero to strangers, Dad. I don’t need you. It's not like you've been much of one to me lately."
She regretted her words as soon as she said them. He was trying to be nice and make the start of her day better, but all she could do was make the situation worse in her anger. She quickly turned around and headed out the door before she could dig herself into an even bigger hole, shoving her earbuds in her ears. She was out the door before he could come up with something to say.
Rick didn’t follow after her this time.
—
Daisy couldn’t focus the whole day. Her parents fighting always put her in a sour mood, and it ruined any potential she had at staying on task. She was almost positive she had bombed her test in first period, or maybe by some miracle she’d managed to scrape by with a C. It was all so hazy in her mind, she couldn’t really tell. Either way, she wasn’t happy. But despite her best efforts, all she could focus on was the conversation she had with her parents that morning.
She didn’t know why she acted the way she did.
When her parents first started fighting, she was always quick to step in and try to diffuse the situation. But she was sixteen now, and the fights that her parents had were beginning to happen more and more often. It had gotten very old, and so she couldn’t help but snap on mornings like this. She’d spend the rest of the day regretting it, and the guilt Lori and Rick also felt from fighting with each other – especially in front of their kid – would postpone their next argument to at least another day out.
At least they all agreed on something – feeling guilty.
Daisy took the bus on the way home. The bus was the place Daisy did her very best thinking. All the ideas about different ways she could apologize or get her parents to apologize to each other filled her head. By the time the bus made it to her stop, she had plenty of methods stocked up. Daisy was about to stand up and grab her backpack when a sudden feeling washed over her. Reluctantly, she let go of her bag. She couldn’t bring herself to get off the bus. Instead, she waited until the doors closed to settle back into her seat, letting the driver continue on down the road.
After a few stops, the bus stopped at the end of Scott Street.
Scott Street was Daisy’s very first home. Her parents married young, barely out of their own parents' houses when they found out Lori was pregnant. They were eighteen and stupid, but Lori was determined to create the little family she had always dreamed of. Naive and in love, Rick did everything he could to give it to her.
He started in the police academy, quickly becoming an officer, while Lori took night classes to get a business degree. She never really did end up using it, but at the time she figured it would come in handy one day. It didn’t hurt to get it, and they still could get by on the combined little bit of money their parents gave them to start their own lives. Their first home together was a little apartment by the community college. Slowly, they saved and saved. By the third trimester, they had enough saved to put a down payment on a little house on the edge of the suburbs. It wasn’t much to look at, and it was too cramped for a family of four – they had moved into their current home by the time Carl was around. But their little house on Scott Street was their first home. And, although Daisy hadn’t lived there for quite some time, she still had good memories there. On days like this when her family was fighting, she’d long for her first home.
Before the bus could pull away, Daisy quickly shot out of her seat and stepped off the bus. She gave the driver a friendly wave, taking out her earbuds to roll them up and shove them in her jacket pocket as she stepped out of the street and onto the sidewalk. She watched the bus pull away, leaving her alone on the quiet street.
Daisy slowly walked to the third house down on the left. It had been repurchased since her time there. The new owners had painted over the quaint shade of yellow with a dull gray, and the pretty white trim was now a dirty charcoal color. The red door Daisy had toddled through so many times with her parents hot on her heels was now painted a dusty looking brown. The flower beds Lori could never seem to keep alive had been ripped up and replaced with a layer of mulch. Even the car parked in the driveway was a sad and dreary little thing, reflective of the sad and dreary little people that were living inside of Daisy’s house who had painted over and ruined all of its charm and comforting qualities.
Daisy hadn’t even realized she was crying until the tear rolling down her cheek fell onto her shirt. She quickly wiped under her eyes, clearing her throat as she shoved her earbuds back in. Daisy didn’t know why she was crying.
It was just a house.
It wasn’t her home anymore. It wasn’t the house she saw her little brother grow up in. It wasn’t the house her Mom let her keep the stray cat she found in for all of an afternoon before she discovered it was actually the neighbor's cat, and it was then promptly placed back outside next door. It wasn’t the house where she watched her Dad come home with a tired smile on his face, raving about the promotion he had gotten that day.
And yet, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was left behind here. A part of herself, or a part of her family – something that was keeping them together, and now that it was missing, they were finally starting to unravel.
Daisy quickly shook her head, taking one last look at the house before turning around and marching back down the street. She wiped under her eyes as she walked, humming along to the music in her ears as she found her way back home. The apology she had spent the entire bus ride working on was now on the tip of her tongue, and she was ready to get home and wait at the dining room table until both her parents were home so she could deliver it to them. But then she turned the corner in her neighborhood to her street.
A squad car was waiting in the driveway, and her Dad’s partner, Shane, was at the front door, frantically pounding on it.
Daisy could feel her stomach drop, a sick and twisted feeling in her gut stopping her in her tracks. She ripped her earbuds out for a final time, this time shoving them into her backpack out of her reach. After a minute, she finally got her feet to move. She slowly made her way down the sidewalk, stopping next to her mailbox. She couldn’t force her feet to take her any further.
She placed a hand on the mailbox, bracing herself as she called out to the man at her front door. “Shane?”
Her voice was quiet and cracked, but it was loud enough that Shane heard it. He whipped around, his eyes landing on her at the end of the driveway. Daisy couldn’t help but instantly notice the dried blood caked on his t-shirt under his uniform. He had clearly tried to scrub it off sometime earlier in the day, but he was too frantic or distracted to notice that he’d missed some. Daisy had to force herself to pry her eyes away from the stain, finally looking up to meet his gaze. Even if there wasn’t any blood, the ghostly white look on Shane’s face would have been enough to tell her that something was seriously wrong.
“Shane?” she asked again.
It was all she could bring herself to say.
“Hey, sweetheart,” he muttered, trying to mask the fear in his voice with calmness.
It was a tactic he had mastered when having to talk to the families of criminals and victims when something in a case went awry. He had gotten used to it by now – he was good at it, even. But at this moment, he couldn’t mask the shakiness in his voice. His eyes were soft on Daisy as he motioned to the squad car.
“Why don’t you come with me, alright?” he asked, opening up the passenger side door. “Your Dad wanted me to come tell you something.”
—
It was like her body was on autopilot.
She knew what was happening the moment she sat down in the car, but it was a shock to her system anyway. Shane told her about the call they responded to. Two armed and dangerous men being chased up and down backroads, firing at the officers any chance they got. They eventually were pinned down and in a shootout with responding officers. In the process, her Dad was shot. Once in the ribs, although the bulletproof vest caught the brunt of it. The worst he would have had from it was a nasty bruise. But the second time, he wasn’t so lucky. An unknown third man crawled out of the car and shot him through the shoulder. He was picked up in an ambulance and rushed to the hospital, passed out by the time surgeons got to him. Before he passed out, he told Shane to go to Lori and his kids. He wanted Shane to tell them that he loved him, and that he’d be okay.
Daisy had checked out of the conversation by the time Shane got to that part, her ears ringing and muffling his words. She didn’t even realize they had stopped until Shane put the car in park. She looked up to see Carl’s school, her Mom standing in the parking lot with the mother of one of Carl’s friends.
Daisy let out a shaky breath as Shane cleared his throat, wringing his hands together. “Why don’t you wait here, alright? I’ll handle this.”
Shane got out of the car before Daisy could even register what he said. He stepped a few feet from the car, waiting for Lori to approach him. Daisy watched as her Mom’s face fell, but she put on a brave face and walked over anyway. They had a muffled conversation before the sound of a school bell interrupted them.
Daisy perked up when kids began filing out of the school, happy smiles on their faces as they found their parents. She unbuckled and quickly scrambled out of the car once Carl came into view. She was halfway to him when she felt a hand in hers, turning her around.
“What are you doing?” Lori asked gently, bringing her free hand up to hold hers. “Shane said you haven’t spoken since he picked you up. Let me do this, baby girl. Everything is going to be alright, just go wait with Shane.”
Carl had stopped in the street now, a confused look on his face. Daisy glanced at him over her shoulder before quickly turning back to her Mom.
“Let me do it.”
Lori’s face fell as she shook her head. “Honey, no–”
“Mom…please,” she pleaded, squeezing Lori’s hand. “He can’t hear it the way I just heard it. I’ll be gentle, I won’t let him worry. He’ll know it’s bad if you do it.”
Daisy’s voice cracked halfway through her sentence, and she could see her Mom’s eyes fill with tears. It was silent for a moment before Lori nodded, pressing a kiss to the back of her hand. She squeezed it one more time before letting her go.
“I’ll be right here.”
Daisy nodded, turning back to face Carl. She quickly headed across the street, stopping in front of him. She sat down on the curb, patting the spot next to her for him to sit. He obliged, plopping down next to her with a goofy smile on his face.
“What are you doing here?”
“Not happy to see me?” Daisy scoffed, feigning offense. “It was a half day for the high school, remember?”
Carl nodded. Daisy smiled, slinging her arm around his shoulder. In her peripheral vision, she could see her Mom standing by the squad car. Her hands were shaking, and Shane had a comforting hand on her shoulder. Daisy took a deep breath, opening her mouth to speak.
Carl beat her to the punch. “What’s Shane doing here?”
“I need you to listen to me, okay?” Daisy spluttered out, hesitating for a moment. “Don’t make a big deal out of this, everything is fine. I promise. Just…let me say this.”
For once, Carl didn’t fight her on this or do any of the things little brothers do to endlessly annoy their big sisters. He just nodded, letting her take his hand. She gave it a squeeze, giving him a halfhearted smile.
“It’s Dad…there was an accident at work.”
Carl’s eyes widened and filled with fear. “What? Wh…What do you mean? What happened? Is he okay? Is he de–”
“No!” Daisy quickly answered, squeezing his hand. “No. Something happened at work today. He’s been shot, but an ambulance came right away to get him. He’s in the hospital right now. He’s having surgery to fix him. They’re gonna fix him.”
Tears immediately spilled over his cheeks, and Daisy was quick to pull him into a tight hug. Carl hid his face in her shoulder, letting her gently rock them back and forth. She gave him a moment to breathe before gently pulling him back by his shoulders.
“Have I ever lied to you?” Daisy asked, wiping the tears from his cheeks with her thumbs.
Carl shook his head, his voice watery. “No. You said lying was only for kids to use against their parents, and you promised to never lie to me.”
“Exactly,” she chuckled. “I’ve lied to Mom and Dad plenty of times. More times than I care to share, really…but never to you. I’ve always told you the truth, even if I knew it would make you mad at me. I told you when I accidentally backed over your skateboard with Mom’s car, didn’t I?”
“You still haven’t made that up to me, by the way.”
“You little asshole,” Daisy grinned, pulling him in for another hug. “Don’t tell Mom I said that in front of you. Now’s the perfect time for you to practice lying. Or better yet…withholding the truth. That’s a skill a bit harder to master, but I’m sure you’ve got what it takes.”
Carl nodded, a small grin on his face as he slowly calmed down. Daisy stood up, helping him up from the curb. She took his backpack from him, shouldering it herself as she looked down at him. Although he was smiling too, she could still see the fear on his face, so she quickly held him in place and ruffled her fingers all through his hair. It stuck straight up in about eight different places, and Daisy laughed while he fought against her to try and push her back. She finally let him go with a smile, reaching down to smooth his hair down.
“Dad’s going to be alright, Carl. I’m not lying…I’m promising you. I don’t want you to worry, okay? Let’s just save the worrying for Mom. It’s her who’s gonna have to endure Dad’s whining all day at home until he’s well enough to go back to work. Remember the last time he got a cold? You would have thought he had the plague with how much he griped and complained.”
Carl laughed, nodding. Daisy put her hands on his shoulders, pushing him out in front of her in the direction of where Lori and Shane were still standing. Lori had a grateful smile on her face. Shane was still chuckling as he watched Carl continue to smooth his hair down.
“Come on,” Daisy said, leading him to the car. “We’ll ask Mom if we can go to the hospital now.”
—
Rick spent a few hours in surgery. When he was stable, the doctors came out into the waiting room to update everyone on his condition. They explained that, while his condition wasn’t critical, he had lost a lot of blood. He had to be placed into a medically induced coma so his body could recover without overworking itself. In the days following, they’d reduce the medication and let him wake up on his own.
When Daisy asked for a time frame they’d all have to wait, she was given a very vague answer by a clearly overworked and tired nurse. It was obvious this wasn’t her first time dealing with a family like this, and the repetitive questions were wearing her down.
“We can’t give you an exact time or date. It all depends on the rate at which his body heals itself. We’re doing everything we can on our end, all that can be done now is giving him time. Feel free to sit with him now if you want. It’s not entirely proven, but it’s said that patients in comas are actually sometimes cognisant of what’s going on around them. If you talk to him and let him know you’re there, it might encourage him to wake up faster. Understand my use of the word “might,” please.”
“But he will wake up?” Lori asked with an expectant look on her face.
The nurse hesitated, glancing over at Daisy who had Carl asleep on her shoulder. “Like I said, ma’am. Give it time. We’re working at your husband’s pace now.”
“He’s a fighter,’ Shane said impotently, pacing around the waiting room with a cup of coffee in his hand like he’d been doing for the last few hours. “He’ll be up and at it in no time.”
The nurse said nothing more, just nodding as she returned to her work.
—
Daisy spent the following several days in and out of the hospital. Between school and making sure her brother and Mom were doing alright, she felt like she had less and less time to sit in a hospital room. After all, Rick still hadn’t woken up yet. It was possible he had no idea they were there, and it wasn’t making much of a difference sitting and worrying at the hospital instead of sitting and worrying at home.
One evening, Daisy stayed at the hospital late. Carl needed to go to bed, and Lori only had her car to take him home. Daisy wanted to stay, so Shane offered to stay as well and drop her off on his way home.
The two sat alone in the hospital for another hour before Shane stood up, stretching. “I’m gonna go get a cup of coffee. You want anything?”
Daisy just shook her head. Shane nodded, leaving her alone in the room. After a few minutes of staring, she shuffled her chair closer until she was sitting right at Rick’s bedside. Carefully, she took his hand in hers. He was cold to the touch. She absentmindedly pulled his blanket up over him higher, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in her stomach that this cold lifeless hand was not the hand of the warm father she always knew. She took a breath, squeezing his hand in hers.
“Dad?” she whispered, getting no response.
Rick lied still in the hospital bed, his hand limp and heavy in hers. Daisy sniffled, trying and failing to fight back tears. She gave his hand a squeeze, her voice low as she spoke.
“I went back to the old house again. Mom drove us by on the way to the hospital. She finally got to see what they did to the paint. She called it a monstrosity. Said she could never picture a family growing up in a house like that. We made bets on what the inside looks like. Carl said he bets their couch still has the cover on it, like the one Grandma put over her furniture last Christmas. He thinks whoever lives there keeps it on year round. Mom said she's thankful you got us all a nice house so that Carl could know a home like the one we had before he was born.”
The words caught in her throat. Daisy looked down at their joined hands, hers beginning to shake.
“Dad,” she tried again, silent tears rolling down her cheeks as she got no response. “I’m so sorry.”
Her last words she said to him came rushing back to her, and she felt like the guilt would swallow her whole. She looked at her Dad’s face, his eyes closed and his skin pale. She could see the outline of his bandages from the surgery under his gown. There was a nagging thought in the back of her mind that maybe he wouldn’t wake up again, and the thought alone was enough to pull a muffled sob from her. She squeezed his hand, her voice raw.
“Why’d you have to be a hero, Dad? Why you? Why’d you let yourself get shot?”
Daisy let out a shaky breath, clutching his hand tighter. “I didn’t mean it. I know you care, we all know you care. I know what I said was cruel, but…I need you. I really need you to be the bigger person right now and wake up. Mom’s worried sick, Carl is following me around like a lost puppy. I had to lie to him and promise you’d be okay, when I don’t know a fucking thing!”
A low sob catching in her chest prevented her from continuing.
Suddenly, the door opened once more, and Shane peeked his head in. One look at Daisy’s tear stained face, and he was grabbing his things from the chair. He bent down and placed a kiss on top of her head, then a hand on Rick’s shoulder. His voice was tired, but soft.
“I’ll be in the car. Five minutes, you hear me? I gotta get you home, Days.”
The use of her nickname only made her cry more. She just nodded, and Shane was quick to leave the room. Once she was sure he was gone, Daisy turned back to look at her Dad. She wiped at her cheeks with her free hand, letting out a long sigh.
“I’m gonna take care of them, okay?” she promised, nodding. “Until you come home, I’ll watch out for everyone. I’m gonna make it up to you as soon as you’re awake, I promise. And I’m sorry for swearing…I know you don’t like when I do that. Mom lets me swear, you know — just in front of her anyway, not in front of Carl. You can argue about that with her sooner if you would just wake up.”
Daisy chuckled at her own joke, fresh tears spilling from tired eyes down her cheeks. She shook her head, standing up to gather her things. She reached for his hand one last time, giving it three rapid squeezes.
It meant, I love you.
It was something they did in their family when it needed to be said, but for whatever reason they just couldn’t get the words out. Usually after arguments, or when someone was crying, but during the happy moments too when someone was laughing so hard that they couldn’t get any words out at all. Daisy was longing for one of those moments right about now.
Just as she was about to let go, she felt the faintest of squeezes to her own hand. It was so light, she almost missed it. She nearly convinced herself it was just in her imagination, when she felt another light squeeze. Daisy leaned down and pressed a kiss to the back of Rick’s hand, gently pulling hers away as she headed for the door.
“You can give me that last one when I come back to visit after school tomorrow,” she said excitedly, opening the door. “I’ll be here, Dad. I promise.”
—
Daisy didn’t go back to the hospital the next day – she never got the chance to.
For the first week that Rick was in the hospital, there had been reports of some kind of virus spreading out west and in highly populated cities. While it wasn’t close to Daisy or anyone in her town, the news coverage of it was still making people uneasy. They began locking themselves in their houses, calling out of work and pulling their children out of school.
The night she got home from the hospital, Lori told her she wanted to wait a few days before any of them went back to visit. Apparently, there had been some sort of riot downtown at a grocery store, and a few people were shot and injured. It all seemed dramatic to Daisy, but she could hear the stress in her Mom’s voice when she asked, so she agreed not to go anywhere for a few days until things started to calm down.
As the days progressed, the news coverage of the virus got worse and worse. It was making people violent and deranged. Civilians were being shot dead in the streets by police, people were eating other people, and there were reports that entire villages in other countries had been wiped out by the virus. There was riots and looting and chaos – mass panic was beginning to ensue. Eventually, the virus spread into Daisy’s state, then her county, then her town. The military began sending troops down to manage the situation, and they advised all civilians within a fifty mile radius to evacuate to Atlanta for a while where a quarantine and refugee camp was set up.
Daisy barely had time to wrap her head around it before Shane was showing up to their door, his car packed and ready to go.
“I’m going to the hospital to get Rick,” he whispered to Lori at the front door.
Daisy overheard, making sure Carl wasn’t around before she butted into the conversation. “What? He’s not awake yet, he needs the doctors. You can’t just go get him.”
“Daisy’s right,” Lori tried to reason. “Isn’t a hospital the safest place for him? They know how to handle sickness and contamination, we don’t. They have protocols to follow. They said if it came down to it, they’d medevac patients to Atlanta without notice. Who says they’ll even discharge him?”
Shane lifted the hem of his shirt to show his gun holstered to his side. “They’ll release him.”
Lori’s eyes widened in shock. “Shane…I–”
“Look,” he spoke quickly. “I promised Rick I’d look after y’all while he was gone, and that’s what I’m gonna do. Now, the station has been getting reports from all over the county. The sheriff has been talking to the ones from neighboring counties, and it sounds like this is all gonna get a lot worse before it gets better.”
“Shane,” Daisy tried to interrupt, but he was quick to silence her.
“Damn it, just listen! I promised your Dad I would do this, I promised him I’d look after you and do what’s best for you. And right now, this is what’s best for you. Now I’m gonna do what’s best for him and go to the hospital, I don’t think it’s the safest place for him to be anymore. The news is right, they’re sending damn platoons in every day by the tankload. They’re saying Atlanta is safer, so we have to go. Pack the essentials and be ready to go by the time I get back, alright? Please, Days. We’re all outta here as soon as I get Rick.”
The tone of his voice was something neither Daisy or Lori had ever heard before. There was a sense of such desperation and urgency that Lori listened immediately. She had Daisy going back inside to help Carl pack within seconds, coming up with the next steps of the plan with Shane before he left for the hospital.
—
According to him, Shane barely made it alive out of the hospital.
He came back to the house in a hurry, practically strapping everyone into the car himself and speeding off before he explained what happened. Daisy only heard bits and pieces after Carl started crying and she pulled herself together long enough to comfort him, but the things that she did hear shook her to her core. The hospital was overrun. The military was already there, and they were shooting uninfected doctors and nurses alike. Half the hospital had already been evacuated, and the other half had fallen. Despite doing absolutely everything he could, Shane couldn’t save Rick. He could only save himself and fulfill his promise to Rick by making sure his family made it out safe.
The next few days were a blur.
Eventually, they made it to the highway that led into Atlanta. Cars were at a standstill, stopped for hours at a time. By nightfall, the line had been stalled for so long that everyone had turned off their cars to save gas. Families had gotten out and were talking to the families in the cars next to theirs, sharing food and radios, trying to see if anyone had any clue what was going on. Then, the radios went out. Eventually, Shane decided it was safe enough for everyone to get out of the car and stretch their legs.
That was when Daisy met the Peletier’s – a brutish and seemingly chronically upset father named Ed, a nice but skittish and reserved mother and housewife named Carol, and their quiet little girl called Sophia.
Sophia was right around Carl’s age. Once the two families got to talking, Carol set up a travel size board game of checkers in the trunk of her car for the kids to play with. They were getting bored and antsy, and it was a good way to entertain them. Daisy sat behind Carl on the tailgate silently watching over his shoulder, snickering every time Sophia made a move and took one of his pieces. It was enough to keep everyone calm and distracted for a while, but the helicopters circling overhead eventually uneased everyone enough that they just forgot about the game all together.
After a while, Lori and Shane decided to scout ahead and see if they could figure out what was going on.
“Stay with your brother and Carol, okay?” Lori asked Daisy, reaching up to brush the stray hairs out of her face. “Promise me.”
Daisy nodded, glancing over at Shane. “The broadcasts stopped, didn’t they? The ones telling people about the refugee center in Atlanta. I saw what station it was being broadcasted over on the way here, we must have heard it fifty times over the last few days. I checked in Carol’s car…it’s all static now.”
Shane sighed, knowing he couldn’t lie to her. Daisy was too smart for her own good, and there was no point in trying to hide the truth from her. The highway was a glue trap. It was likely that the refugee center was turning people away, or it had already been overrun. The broadcasts stopped because whoever was broadcasting them decided that there’s no people left and nothing worth broadcasting to. Shane nodded, tilting his head towards Carl.
“Just stay here. We’ll be right back.”
Shane and Lori headed off before Daisy could protest. She just huffed, sitting back down on the tailgate with Carl and Sophia. She reached over Carl’s shoulder to move a checker, giving Sophia a reassuring smile.
“Your dad’s nice,” Sophia commented.
Carl tensed up next to Daisy. “Shane’s not my Dad. My Dad’s dead.”
An awkward silence fell over the group. Daisy could feel a stinging behind her eyes, her chest tightening. She could feel Carol’s pitying eyes on her, making her look up at Sophia. There was nowhere she could look to get away from this feeling though, despite how hard she was trying to. Then Daisy noticed a little doll tucked into Sophia’s lap, clearly a well loved toy.
“I like your doll,” she said, making Sophia’s face light up. “I had one like that when I was your age.”
Sophia smiled, moving another piece. “Where’s yours?”
“I gave her away to the neighbor's daughter. I hadn’t played with her in years, and I figured she’d get better use out of it than I would letting it collect dust on my dresser. I bet it’s buckled into the backseat of that little girl’s car right now. On a roadtrip – sounds cool, right?”
Before Sophia could reply, a distant explosion sounded from somewhere down the highway. The sounds of an argument could be heard, and Daisy craned her neck to see a fight breaking out a few cars ahead of hers. Suddenly, more helicopters circled overhead. This time, they headed into the city. Everyone on the road paused what they were doing to watch, stepping over the guardrail to see past the trees on the hill. The city was dark, only the light from the helicopters illuminating the skyline. The helicopters hovered over the skyline as onlookers watched from the highway. Faint murmurs from people inside the city could be heard alongside the whirring blades of the helicopters.
Sudden flashes of light could be seen in the night sky. Just as Daisy squinted to try and get a better look at their source, multiple fiery mushroom clouds of heat and smoke billowed over the skyline. The city lit up ghastly tones of yellow, orange, and red.
Then it dawned on Daisy – they were dropping napalm in the streets.
“Oh my god,” she muttered, quickly standing up to help Carl and Sophia down from the tailgate. “Don’t watch, okay? Eyes on me.”
To her side, Carol let out a gasp and then a short sob, looking to Ed for answers. He just watched with a far away look in his eye, glancing around to see how everyone else was reacting. Daisy could feel Carl clinging to her waist, and she looked down to see a wild look in his eye as he watched the skyline light up.
“Get in the car, now!” Ed ordered, hastily yanking on Carol’s arm to get her in the passenger seat.
“We can’t just leave Carl and Daisy!” Sophia cried, tears running down her cheeks in fear.
Daisy was quick to reassure her, pulling Carl closer. “Go with your Mom, okay? We’ll be fine, we’ll catch up.”
Sophia was pushed into the car by Ed before she could get another word out. He quickly got back in his car, cranking it and stepping on the gas. He rammed into the car in front of him, smashing the bumper into pieces. Daisy gasped as he gunned it until he pushed the car out of the way, tearing up the shoulder of the road. The car scraped against the guard rail making an awful sound till Ed finally drove right through it, turning in the opposite direction the cars were parked to head back the way they came. The tires burned patches into the grass below, leaving tracks in their wake.
Daisy felt like she was going to puke. She looked around frantically for Lori and Shane, but they were nowhere in sight. People were screaming and crying, mass panic blanketing the highway. The smell of the burning city began wafting up the hill, the smoke stinging her eyes. She clutched Carl tighter to her.
“Hold my hand and don’t let go,” she ordered, gripping Carl tight. “We have to find Mom.”
Daisy took off in the direction her Mom had left earlier, turning around to make sure she remembered where their car was left. She pulled Carl over the guard rail, keeping him out of the way of people running and trying to drive on the shoulder of the road. She led him into the patch of trees at the top of the hill, scanning the area as best she could. By some miracle, she spotted Lori and Shane in the midst of the chaos a few yards away. Lori was clinging to Shane from behind as he led her through the sea of people, one hand wrapped around her wrist, the other on his gun. His eyes were wide and calculated, like an animal that had been cornered on a hunt.
“Shane!” Daisy screamed, running to him with Carl in tow. “Mom!”
“Daisy!” Lori cried, immediately breaking from Shane to pull her kids into a hug. “I told you to stay put, what were you thinking?”
“I had to move! We nearly got mowed over just standing there, and Ed already pulled Carol and Sophia into the car, they’re leaving. It’s getting bad, people are fighting and panicking–”
Shane interrupted her, quickly pulling everyone into a tighter huddle. “What do you mean they’re leaving? The grid is locked, there’s nowhere to go!”
Daisy frantically pointed up the hill. “Ed busted through the guard rail. Practically knocked a tire off turning to drive back the way we came. He left tracks as far as I could see.”
Shane looked up the hill for a second before finally nodding. “Come on, we’re following.”
“Shane,” Carl finally managed to spit out, still clinging to Daisy. “I’m scared!”
Lori took ahold of Carl in one hand, Daisy in the other. “Listen to me. I know you’re scared, but we’re going to be fine. We’re going to be brave, and we’re going to get out of this. I want you two to listen to everything Shane says, and you don’t let go. No matter what happens, you listen and never let go.”
Daisy could feel her Mom’s hand shaking in hers, but she was putting on a voice so brave that her words almost convinced Daisy that they’d be okay. They’d get off this highway and make it to somewhere safe, and this living nightmare they were stuck in would all go away. It’s what Daisy kept telling herself as Shane cleared a path for them to get back to the car. Everyone piled in as quickly as possible, and Shane didn’t waste a second before gunning it past the downed guard rail, following Carol’s tire tracks.
As the skyline faded from view, Daisy watched out the back window. Before they rounded a corner, she watched in horror as a group of the undead suddenly emerged from the trees. They descended onto the highway, grabbing and attacking stragglers who were too panicked to run or fight back. Gunfire rang throughout the streets from stray hunting rifles stashed in the backs of cars, but the dead weren’t dropping. They took shot after shot, only finally going down when someone managed to get a headshot in.
Daisy promptly turned back around to face forward and look away just as she watched brain matter splatter across the pavement, the sound of gunfire, groans, and desperate screams fading into the background.
—
A/N - Hi! Finally caved and started a TWD fic! I’ve had this fic idea in my head for a while now, and with The Ones Who Live coming out, I figured now would be a good time to start it while I’m getting back into TWD. This is a lot different than the past fics I’ve written, because unlike my other fics, I’m not disclosing any planned relationships between my OC and any of the other characters until I write up until certain parts of the show. This is gonna be a long fic, so bear with me while I plan, write, and update it. This is a new kind of writing for me, so please be patient! I’m still not entirely sure where I’m going with it, but I wanted to go ahead and get some of it out. I hope you like it, thank you to anyone who reads and supports my work! Any questions, feedback, comments, suggestions, and critiques are all welcome :)
#the walking dead x oc#the walking dead x reader#the walking dead#twd#alden twd#noah twd#daisy grimes#daisy grimes x the walking dead#daisy grimes x twd#oc x twd#oc x the walking dead#rick grimes#carl grimes#daryl dixon
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i ❤️ milfs
Everyone always talks about the grumpy old man trope but can we PLEASE show appreciation to the older women who begrudgingly take a younger naive person under their wing and then care for them like their own child trope
#the last of us#tlou2#marvel#agents of shield#daisy johnson#the walking dead#carl grimes#abbott elementary#i love this trope so much guys
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who we write for <3
✫= platonic only
9-1-1 + Lone Star
-evan buckely, eddie diaz, howie han, bobby nash✫,albert han, lou ransone, may grant ✫ , TK strand, marjan marwani, carlos reyes.
supernatural
-dean winchester, sam winchester, castiel, meg masters✫, rowena macleod ✫, jack kline ✫, kevian tran, donna hanscum ✫.
nirvana
-kurt cobain, dave grohl, krist novaselic ✫.
the walking dead
-rick grimes, negan smith, carl grimes, maggie greene, glenn rhee, daryl dixon, carol peletier ✫.
outer banks
-jj maybank, sarah cameron ✫, rafe cameron.
marauders
-sirius black, remus lupin, james potter, petter pettigrew ✫, lily evans ✫, (also poly!marauders).
daisy jones and the six
-dasiy jones, billy dunne ✫, graham dunne, warren rhodes, eddie roundtree, simone jackson ✫.
marvel cinematic universe
-peter parker, bucky barnes, nick furry ✫, loki, wanda maximoff ✫, marc spector, steven grant, jake lockely, matt murdock.
criminal minds
-spencer reid, derek morgan, aaron hotchner, emily prentiss ✫, penelope garcia ✫, jennifer jareau ✫.
doctor who
-the 9th doctor, the 10th doctor, rose tyler, donna noble.
- love always, kat + devina <3
#criminalminds#criminalmindsxreader#derekmorgan x reader#aaron hotch x reader#emily prentiss x reader#peter parker x reader#bucky barnes x reader#loki x reader#marc spector x reader#steven grant x reader#jake lockely x reader#matt murdock x reader#djats x reader#daisy jones x reader#billy dunne x reader#graham dunne x reader#warren rhodes x reader#eddie roundtree x reader#simone jackson x reader#marauders x reader#poly!marauders x reader#sirius black x reader#remus lupin x reader#james potter x reader#jj mayback x reader#rafe cameron x reader#obx x reader#twd x reader#rick grimes x reader#negan smith x reader
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agents of shield as tumblr textposts (and that one fuckign grimes tweet), the sequel
#original#the fucking grimes tweet w jemma and the doctor is SO……….#😭#JUST FOUND THIS IN MY DRAFTS LMFAOOOOOO#agents of shield#quakerider#fitzsimmons#mayhunter#daisy johnson#melinda may#lance hunter#jemma simmons#robbie reyes#c speaks
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Do you ever sit and think about it.
Fathers and daughters and hands? Because I do. A lot. All the time, actually. It haunts me. My every thought. My dreams. My daydreams. My conversations. Everything. It’s everywhere.
#hands? hands. hands :)#physical affection my beloved#agents of shield#daisy johnson#phil coulson#stranger things#jim hopper#eleven hopper#the last of us hbo#the last of us#joel miller#ellie williams#the walking dead#daryl dixon#judith grimes#hawkeye show#clint barton#kate bishop#titans#dick grayson#rachel roth#obi wan kenobi#leia organa#obi wan kenobi show#arcane#silco#jinx
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Grimes:*to Sasha after she made Anne Commander* Are you in love with her? Because it’s that level of stupid.
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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!”
#daryl dixon#daryl dixon smut#daryl dixon one shot#daryl dixon imagine#daryl x reader#the walking dead#twd daryl#twd fanfiction#twd imagine#smut
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★ | carl grimes headcanons
“what’s wrong? you’re doing that face again..”
“that’s just my face?”
carl is not a very expressive person. that’s not to say people were unable to read him, he actually becomes easier to read the more time you spend with him. when he’s upset, he looks more spaced out and he avoids eye contact. when he’s angry, it’s an easy spot. if there’s one thing carl was good at, it was giving people the stink eye. he couldn’t help it sometimes. most of the time, you have to coax his emotions out of him - he’s a hard nut to crack. talking about feelings with carl tends to feel more like an interrogation.
“i got you this flower..”
“aww.. thank you, this is my favourite flower.”
“no it’s not. your favourite flowers are daisies.”
carl loves gifting you small things that he finds. one time he gave you an acorn he picked up whilst on a supply run. when you point out the heart carved into it, he gets embarrassed and insists that it was there before he found it. he lied.
he also remembers almost everything you say to him. he’ll forget your eye colour, but he will remember the time you told him a story about your second grade teacher who accidentally broke a chair. carl prefers listening over talking generally, which makes him a very good listener. that doesn’t mean he remembers everything.
“are you a photographer? because i picture us together.”
“um…wouldn’t you be the photographer then?”
bad pickup lines. he found one of those joke books one time and boy did he read it. he even uses some highlighters to pick out and sort through ones that would make you laugh, ones that he thinks would actually work and ones that he found funny. when he first started using them, he was a bit awkward about it. sometimes he’d mess up the lines, or his delivery would be slightly awkward. practice makes perfect though and he gains more confidence eventually.
“do you think we’ll ever have kids..?”
“i think we’re both too tired for that question, carl...”
carl thinks about having a family all the time. he has his fears about pregnancy and childbirth after what he went through with his mom, but he can’t help but daydream about it. when he’s sleepy, he’s a big rambler. it’s the one time of the day where carl is the one who is talking the most and you hold it dear to your heart. sometimes he talks about what he did that day, but sometimes he talks about what’s been on his mind lately and he’ll take advice, or comfort from you. bedtime is usually the only time he’ll open up with ease. something about being relaxed in bed just before going to sleep with you there next to him is a perfect mix. on the odd occasion, carl gets into a mood if he’s sleepy enough, where he just wants to bombard you with affection and compliments. he’s a sweetiepie.
“no one’s even looking, c’mon just a small kiss..”
“carl, daryl is right there! are you crazy?”
carl. pda. Yep. he doesn’t care who is around. he wants to be as close as he can get to you at all times. i don’t mean that he’s trying to make out with you in front of everyone in the world, but he’ll always have an arm around you, or hold your hand and his favourite, around your waist. he likes being near you, it makes him feel safe. he feels safe knowing that you’re safe and close to him. of course with pda comes the occasional tease from michonne and daryl. it always embarrasses him, but not enough to stop him.
“you know, i used to be judith’s favourite.”
“see what happens when you skip out on too many tea parties?”
carl loves LOVES spending time with you and judith. it’s no secret to anyone that carl loves his baby sister. seeing you play pretend with judith makes him feel happy, like everything he’s been through was worth it, because now he gets to see this.
“carl, samantha doesn’t have a boy voice!”
“i’m not doing a girl voice.”
“carl.. do the girl voice please :( ...”
getting carl to join you and judith while you play with dolls together is an almost impossible task. except it’s not, you know he secretly wants to play. it’s a joint effort between you and judith, but you manage to convince him to join in every time.
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✨Introducing My New Fic✨
Scott Street (TWD x OC)
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Daisy Grimes was only sixteen years old. She shouldn’t have had any more to worry about than — at least in her opinion — what was soon to be her parents' impending divorce. She was supposed to be drinking too much at parties her friends made her sneak out to, or being endlessly annoyed by her endearing yet infuriating little brother who had apparently made it his life’s mission to irritate his big sister to death. She was supposed to be worrying about college, or if she’d be asked to the dances, and whether or not she was going to beg her parents to finally get the family a cat for the sixteenth year in a row. Slowly but surely, Daisy was cracking away at their resolve, and she was sure this time that it finally was her year.
But then Daisy came home to the news that her Dad had been shot. And, as if that wasn’t enough to bring her world to a halt, an outbreak of a rapidly spreading virus took over the world while he was still in the hospital. Along with her family, Daisy was uprooted from her home and forced on the run where she had to fight to survive and keep her family safe every day, while still desperately grasping for some form of normalcy and domesticity.
Even after being reunited with her Dad and meeting new people who might not have been blood but certainly were still family, she realized her world would never be the same. As the days turned into weeks, weeks turned into months, months turned into years….Daisy changed.
And she wasn’t so sure that was a good thing anymore.
Book One
Based on AMC’s The Walking Dead
OC x TWD
Season 1 - Ongoing
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Sarah Pidgeon as Daisy Grimes
#the walking dead x reader#the walking dead imagine#the walking dead#twd#twd x oc#the walking dead x oc#daisy grimes#rick grimes#carl grimes#daryl dixon#amc#scott street#phoebe bridgers
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Daisy
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Pairing: Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Fem Reader
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Description: Cooper Howard was not a kind man, he cared for nobody, but himself. Then he found you, a lost little dove, barefoot and crying, torn dress and big innocent eyes staring at him like he was a hero. He knew you’d be a burden, he knew you couldn’t survive in the wasteland, he was doing you a favor.
But he couldn’t pull the fucking trigger...
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[6.1k words]
[Graphic description of gore]
🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼
Chapter 3 "The Vault"
The flickering ceiling lamps only exacerbated the grim atmosphere, but they did slightly help with finding your way. They also hid the majority of the massacre, but you weren’t blind to the horrific scenes of vault dwellers strewn up and skinned and prepared for processing. You’d wretched and convulsed at the sight, clutching at the wall for support and fighting back tears of terror, and if it hadn’t been for your empty stomach you would have most likely thrown up all over the ghoul’s boots. There was so much food around and the raiders still chose their twisted ways and treated the corpses of their victims, human beings, as cattle in need of rationing and preparation. It was engraved in them, you guessed, after living so long in an apocalyptic, hellish world, eating people was as natural to them as breathing. You tried to justify their actions even if they made no sense, but after seeing cut-open bellies and spilled intestines and dribbling blood as the corpses were hung to drain, you couldn’t.
No matter how difficult a life, nothing could pardon such barbaric actions, not when the cans of cram and sacks of tatoes were right there. The raiders didn’t kill and butcher out of need, they did it out of pleasure, they drew with blood on the walls, bludgeoned flesh and bone to a pulp, stripped skin bare, and let bodies dangle like slaughtered pigs.
The more gore was presented to you on a rusty platter, the smaller your pool of empathy became until there was nothing but the screaming aftermath of gunshots sounding right above your head. You still jittered, but didn’t flinch anymore, he had you, you were safe with him. His boots echoed with menace through the corridors, beckoning the raiders to their end, while your delicate bare feet glided over grime and glass and chaos.
He used you as bait once the raiders were close enough to spot you, your history with them causing a sudden urge in them to let go of their logic and self-preservation and charge headfirst into a shotgun barrel. You would have minded, but he was death incarnate with a weapon, and you were so set on restoring the sanctity of your vault, your home, that you were ready to do just about anything. He killed until there was nobody else with a heartbeat except you and him. He killed so casually, that you almost believed it to be normal.
Once his end of the bargain was done, you started searching, straining both mind and vision for that particular room with a false bookcase. You guided him past the vegetable field, through the cafeteria, and rushed past the school because there were too many bodies piled up for you to stomach. He followed with minor protests, but mostly kept quiet and alert, acting as a guard hound while you pursued the location of the emergency storage. It was only when you ended up in the residential wing with a confused noise that he spoke up.
“You’re lost, Darlin’, admit it.”
You shot him an angsty look over your shoulder, arm outstretched in front of you as the white flashlight installed in the Pip-boy illuminated the vault hallway. When you enter the first home, just the structure of it is enough to tell that you’ve got the wrong place, you scowl, but trudge further inside anyway.
“I’m not lost.” you retort, refusing to let his remarks leave a stain on your photographic memory, and pace around the tiny complex. “It should be in this wing, I just need to find the right room.”
“Whatever you say…” he hums in mock and purses his lips, then opens the metal door wider before stepping in after you. He lets you explore, his eyes skimming with disinterest over the homey aesthetic he was so alienated from that it didn’t even ring a bell of nostalgia. His sights lock on the fridge and his feet react faster than he’d thought possible. Bingo.
The self-powered beacons perched over the whey field creep through the windows and it’s enough light to scarcely brighten the complex. It would have been a haunting sight if the ghoul wasn’t with you and a timid part of your consciousness tapped at you, reminding you that he wasn’t going to be present for much longer. You hadn’t planned on dwelling on such a thought for long, but you had no clue what to do once he was gone. Left alone to fend for your life with no skills or experience aside from dry theory accumulated from years of reading, there wasn’t much you could do except live off the remnants of the vault and try to keep the garden alive.
How would you be rid of all the corpses though?
It would take years to restore everything, or at least the parts that were salvageable, you’d never be able to swap the broken windows or replace the shattered light bulbs.
You scurried off the nasty reality of your future and proceeded to kneel in front of a shoe cabinet. Your feet were irritably sore and in desperate need of protection so you sunk your arms to the elbows in the darkness, the flashlight distorting under the pile of slippers and sandals.
“You’re not mad, Mister?” you ask and turn back to find the ghoul waist-deep in the refrigerator, rummaging as a cacophony of clinking bottles and stuttering plates soundtrack his rampage. He looked almost domestic and you had to bite down on your bottom lip to keep from smiling. “Cuz I haven’t found the storage yet?”
He resurfaces at your question, a bowl of mashed tatoes and a platter of grilled cram cradled in his embrace, traces of soy milk stained his lips. He wiped his mouth on his shoulder and tossed the food on the kitchen counter before resting on his elbows while flicking his tongue.
“Plenty of Pip-boys layin’ around.” he shrugs simply and rips his glove off before sticking two thick fingers in the tatoes. “Can make a small fortune outta those.” he offers you a toothy grin before licking his fingers clean.
“Please use a fork, Sir.” you grimace at his tasteless display before turning back to your task at hand.
“Mind your business, Smooth-skin.” he grunts and sinks his teeth in a thick slice of cram, scarfing it down as if he’d not eaten in days. He scoffs at your faint giggle and waves you off, too high on the idea of a proper meal to care for your coquettish snip.
You continue to dig through the assortment of old shoes, relishing his vocal satisfaction as he feasts. He chews hastily, taking breaks every few bites to wash down the food with whatever juice or milk he blindly pawed at on the fridge door. After tossing away a pair of white fluffy slippers and jamming your hand against a leathery surface, you pull out a left-footed cargo boot. It’s stuck, tied by the laces to something crammed deeper in the cabinet and you feel your way until you find its twin. Once freed, you look them over with a tilted chin and a contemplative look.
They seemed remotely your size, with a pair of thick socks they’d probably fit perfectly and they were preserved and sturdy enough to withstand some broken glass.
“You think they’ll miss these?” you raise the boots in display and ask before thinking about how stupid your question was.
The boiled corn cob pauses just shy of his parted lips and he stares at you like you’d grown a second head. The silence that befalls is one of realization with a twinge of melancholy and you avert your eyes as your mouth twitches into a small frown. The shoes are lowered to your chest and you hold them close in wordless mourning, face dimming, shoulders lowering.
“Oh right…frick.”
“They’re dead, Sweetheart.” he speaks softly, a hint of pity hidden beneath the layer of rasp. “Don’t think they’ll miss anythin’ anymore.”
In truth, you didn’t mourn the rest of the vault dwellers. They were strangers who’d shared the same living facility as you, there was no attachment there except for baseline human empathy. What you grieved over was your sanity, the solitude you’d be subjugated to and you’d grown accustomed to being alone, but after knowing the atrocities that had occurred and the reasoning for your lonesome existence, you doubted things would go well. You’d be forced to fend for yourself and there was no guarantee that another wave of intruders wouldn’t end up on your doorstep.
You picked at the soles of the boots absentmindedly, ignorant to the sympathetic stare targeting the back of your head.
You weren’t accustomed to caring for your needs, having been coercively babied all your life and lacking basic skills. The only bond you’d ever had was with your father and the knowledge that you’d eventually stumble upon his corpse riddled you in goosebumps. You dreaded that sight, eyes dampening at just the thought and mind failing to even picture such a sickening image.
You drag an arm over your drippy nose, sniffle and stand.
“Need socks.” was all you managed before hurrying to the bedside closet at the other end of the complex, hiding behind a wall and out of the ghoul’s prying gaze.
This was fine. You’d figure it out as you went. There was no point in worrying over things that haven’t happened yet, right?
You shone your flashlight into the closet's depths after flinging it open, searching for a ball of stretchy material, anything that remotely resembled a pair of socks. Shuffling came from the kitchen area, a throaty grunt, a few clanks, and the shattering of porcelain. Paying no mind to the ghoul’s ruckus, you sift through the clothing hangers, stopping only when an intricate floral pattern catches your eye. You tug at the cloth, pulling it off the bar and hooking a finger around the clothing hanger before straightening it out.
A dress, pretty and frilly at the bottom, littered with small hand-sewn red blooms, sparkling white and in pristine condition. It reminisced of better times when people reigned over a peaceful and bountiful land, when radiation existed only in the confines of nuclear factories and cannibalism was scarce and very taboo. Your dull expression softens with a doting smile as you coo over your new fit before tossing it on the bed.
Your search continues shortly after, rummaging and scanning, digging deeper until you find a small raft overflowing with undergarments. A pair of black tights and heavy woolen socks later, you pass an anxious glance at the edge of the wall separating you from your overly grumpy bodyguard before tugging the straps of your dress off your shoulders.
“What the hell are you doing in there!?”
“I’m changing!” you rush to answer, shimmying out of your dirty, torn attire before sitting on the edge of the bed and pulling the socks over your feet. After taking note of the now gooey gash on your ankle, you decide to postpone wearing tights until it’s been cleaned and bandaged. You swallow back a lump of anxiety and make disinfecting the wound your top priority…once you find the storage unit that is.
“Hurry up!”
Once the boots were secured, you neatly tied them up and scurried to slip on the new dress in case the ghoul decided he’d had enough of waiting and barged over in his typical unruly fashion. It fit you so well, but there was no time to enjoy yourself, you tossed the tights over the junction of your elbow and patted down the frilly edges grazing your knees.
The world came crashing when the zipper got stuck.
“Freaking fiddle sticks…”
You tried and failed to resolve the dilemma, patting blindly at your upper back, reaching over your shoulder, and coiling an arm behind your waist. Even when your fingers did manage to find the zipper again, it was jammed and no amount of vigorous tugging helped and you didn’t want to apply more force lest you cause a tear. A small whine, dainty and annoyed, bubbled in your throat and you hung your head back and stared up at the ceiling in despair. This had to be some sort of cruel joke, a jut at you for daring to find a sliver of happiness.
“Uh…Mister?” you call out, weak with embarrassment as you slowly succumb to the walk of shame. You round the corner slowly, apprehension in every step and boring a shameful visage. “I need help…please.”
Your lovely bounty hunter had sprawled out on the counter, his hands resting on his now full belly, one perched up knee swaying nonchalantly as his other leg kicked dangled leisurely in the air. His hat rested over his face, obscuring his vision as he breathed slowly, in utter bliss for the first time in a long while. The shotgun once secured on his back was tucked under his neck. The empty plates were carelessly chucked to the floor when he’d made room to lie down and now you knew what all that ruckus had been caused by.
It would have been quite the heartwarming sight if you weren’t currently wallowing in self-pity.
He rouses at your beckon, sitting up and readjusting his hat and giving you his best acid scowl for disrupting his peace. Then he notices your pained expression and skittish shifting and quirks a nonexistent brow.
“The hell’d you do?”
Ah yes, the sardonic question a parent would ask their misbehaved child after yet another minor disaster. That’s exactly what you need at the moment.
“I – ” your teeth grit, jaw tightening in discomfort. A sad puppy-eyed stare plastered on your droopy features as you stand next to the counter before reluctantly turning around and brushing your hair out of the way to expose your back. “ – It’s stuck…”
A snort of laughter fills the dim complex and you shrink in utter humiliation, fussing at his reaction like the wimpy thing you’ve been demoted to. He turns in his spot and his knees encase your frame as he slopes closer.
“Can’t even dress right.” his berating smirk nips at the back of your neck and earns a sigh of defeat.
Cooper Howard wasn’t a man to regret many things and he’d done enough awful deeds to have him kicked out of a church if he ever dared set foot in one. Not putting his glove back on, however, would be one of those regrets. When his disfigured fingers dipped beneath the hem of your dress to hold it steady as he worked the zipper free, he brushed against your skin and it was so soft that he nearly missed the feeling altogether. A pang of something awfully warm wrapped around his ribcage like a vine and he was so shaken to the core that he forgot he needed to breathe.
You felt like the past, all lovely and nice and tender, as if ripped from a time he struggled to recollect and let go of both, and you were thrust in his hands and he didn’t know what the hell he was supposed to do with you. All charming smiles and sugary words and naivety that had him torn between hatred and incessant thirst for more of whatever it was you did to him. So addictive yet so detrimental.
He chalked it up to lust, a guttural craving any normal man would feel when presented with a cute little thing like you. But it wasn’t that at all. It had nothing to do with any carnal human craving.
You were a gateway to what he used to have, a walking memory of who he used to be.
It made sense if your story was true. Being tended to all your life while locked in a lab orchestrated to be your private room, it would leave anyone silk-skinned, bright-minded, and burden-free. But that didn’t ease him, it didn’t falter him from feeling like he was drowning.
You were the even tune of midnight jazz, a slice of hot apple pie, and a fresh cup of Joe on a Sunday afternoon; a little piece of heaven he’d never asked for and a cruel incarnation of damnation he’d always feared would catch up to him.
“Is it fixed?” you peep, saving him from the jaws of his mind, and look back, happily unaware of his self-destructive internal dialogue. The darkness hides the strain hovering over his distant gaze. “Did you manage?”
“ ‘Course I did.” he barks and is back to normal in an instant, pulling the zipper up before letting you go. “Done.”
He makes sure to secure his glove back on and cusses out the invasive thoughts.
“Thank you so much!” you grin with glee and throttle away like a victorious toddler. “How do I look?” you twirl with pizazz, then remember the tights dangling off your arm and bunch them up in one hand in case they took away from your dashing performance. “Don’t mind those.”
The ghoul scoffs, shaking his head in disbelief at how stupidly charming you are, and slides from the counter before reaching for his shotgun. You take his reaction as a good sign, satisfied with your new, clean look, and brush down the dress with the back of your hand.
“Les go.” he clicks his tongue at you, motioning with his head before fiddling to load his weapon. “Can gawk at yourself plenty when I’m gone.”
His remark receives no pushback. You follow suit, back into the benevolent corridor with hanging dead lamps, stepping carefully next to him with Pip-boy pointed straight ahead. It felt good to not have to constantly worry over a stray piece of debris catching on your feet anymore. Now your footsteps sang in tandem with your bounty hunter’s albeit much lighter and more frequent. With eyes darting from wall to wall, you peeked into each adjacent living complex. The sting in your ankle continued, snapping at your every move and your grip on the tights hardened. Your nails sank into the material for purchase as impatience nibbled at your nerves.
Apartment after apartment. Nothing even remotely resembled the room you were looking for, but it had to be here somewhere. The vault plans didn’t lie and neither did your memory.
You nearly tripped over a stray cable while ogling a bright pink suite layered with fuzzy rugs.
“You sure you ain’t just sendin’ us on a wild goose chase?” the ghoul asks while cracking open another steel door for you to inspect, then dips his hat and lilts “Ain’t gonna shoot you, Sweetheart. Don’t need to lie anymore.”
“I wasn’t lying, Mister.” you look up at him with hurt and he keens, blinking slowly at you and deciding to leave it at that.
Whether it was due to exhaustion or that look, he wasn’t sure.
If you were this set on proving to him there was a storage full of medical supplies and provisions he wasn’t going to stop you. There was plenty of food and drink to stay a while and his current bounty wasn’t notorious enough to top a fresh bed and a full meal. The caps weren’t worth it compared to what you’d offered him and he had enough vials to last him a while before any feral symptoms started poking through.
“It’s somewhere here, I know it is, these are just the wrong rooms. But the map showed it was in the living quarters to the north. It has to be a bigger space and with a bookcase in – ”
A hand clasped gently over your mouth, cutting your ramble short.
The ghoul grips your arm and shines the Pip-boy at the end of the hallway, the tense look on his face making your stomach knot. He takes one step forward, leaving you to linger behind him and you would’ve liked to believe it was to protect you, but it was most likely to get you out of the way.
You hear his gloved hold tighten around his shotgun and bite back the need to ask him what he’d picked up that you hadn’t. You never noticed the almost silent steps that had slowly crept closer and yelped when you were roughly tossed behind him as he spun around. The shot nearly left you deaf and the bloodied kukri barely missed your shoulder, having been a hair away from the strap of your dress.
You shriek along with the gargled gasp, latching onto the bounty hunter’s coat. The loud thump that followed made you duck and wrinkle your nose.
“Oh my jeez. Oh my God!” you glimpse from behind him reluctantly, forcing your tightly shut eyes open.
The raider twitched, clutching his blown-to-bits shoulder as a puddle of blood formed beneath him. He choked for air, coughing out a storm of crimson and it made your knees weak. The smell of gunpowder was sharp and overwhelming and your head spun with a nauseating speed.
“Guess I missed one.” the bounty hunter leers and the absolute insouciance at his actions sent a chill up your spine. He unclasps the hunting knife strapped to his belt and twirls it between his fingers, then tosses you a warning glance. “Look away, Sweetheart. Ain’t wastin’ another bullet on this shit.”
The heels of his boots clinked closer to the raider convulsing on the floor and with a shaky sniffle, you forced your legs to move. The pleas of a desperate man rendered defenseless and feeble, the churring taunts of his merciless killer who squatted over his prey with blade readied. A sickening noise punched you right in the gut, so raw and revolting that you covered your ears the moment you stumbled into another suite and slid down behind the front door. Clutching at the sides of your head, fingers curled and nails delved into your scalp to ground you, you died a little inside.
The reality of your existence, the consequences for being alive hit you full force, ripping you out of the tranquility that had befallen both you and the ghoul. Peace never lasted, and neither did joy, not in a world bathed in chaos and destruction.
The two curt knocks on the door made you flinch.
“Come on out, Scaredy cat.”
“I’ll – ” with a twisted tongue and a clenched throat, you murmur out words to keep him away because you didn’t want to see the blood he was wiping off his knife. “ – I’ll be right there. Just looking…for a false latch or something.”
What a horrible excuse…but he didn’t question it and you were so thankful.
His steps crinkle over broken glass and pieces of discarded metal plates. The tension lifts off your shoulders when he leaves with a grunt. You rub at your face with a timid breath, jaw easing as your lips part to accommodate your forceful inhales. The gloom of the apartment embraced you in your self-indulgent grovel.
To imagine someone lived here only a day ago was to concede to hysteria.
He saved your life again. And still, you were left shaken and bothered and speechless and burdened by what would have happened if he hadn’t been there to rip you away from death’s claws. The possibility of there being more raiders skulking about hadn’t been a thing until this one nearly chopped your arm off. Your arm was still there though, intact and function. All because of him. A dilapidated, volatile guardian angel that looked like a grilled chicken and sounded like a fizzled-out radio station and he meant more to you than anything ever had in your short, secluded life. What were you supposed to do without him when he finally left and you were sealed into a blood-soaked, corpse-ridden underground bunker with just your thoughts as company?
You slapped at your puffed-out cheeks ferociously.
This was fine.
It wasn’t fine, but there was nothing to be done, you’d work with what you had, you’d manage somehow. You had to.
The ghoul whistled you over, loud and clear enough for you to hear even while tucked away safely in your corner. Enough spiraling. You stood and with a determined huff, exited the complex only to see him standing in front of an open door with crossed arms and a tilted head. He noticed you from the corner of his eye and nudged his chin.
“This it?”
You poke your nose inside the spacious room.
It was the vault president’s office, completely untouched and eerily still, made to resemble the quarters of high-ranking officials from the olden days. Thin sheets of wood were plastered over the walls and the floor was carpeted and clean, the large windows overlooked the fields and dining area. An elegant leather chair was neatly set behind the paper-ridden desk in the center of the room, and yellowing files peak from every single drawer and bookcase. Everything seemed organized in spotless order, even the mugs on the coffee table were arranged corresponding to their color. There were so many paintings strewn about, past vault presidents, men and women in distinct white coats, same as the one your dad had always worn, supposedly scientists.
He leaned against the doorframe as you barged inside, watching your newfound zeal with a half-smile.
You pressed the tip of your middle finger to the wall and slowly extended your other arm at a precise angle, then moved it barely to the left. With a calculative spark imbued in your eyes, you take deliberate steps and move your stiff arms mechanically as you work out the location of the hidden storage. It looked ridiculous and you were well aware as you maneuvered about like a possessed puppet, but without any tools to point the way this was your only crutch.
“Three feet to the left, diagonal to the glass case with the cat sculpture. One step back and turn to what should be west. North should be to the right, then. And…”
“There.” you state once your hand points at a particularly overdecorated bookcase. “That’s it. Has to be.” you step towards it with determination, throwing away documents and an old plastic globe until there was enough space to grab at the shelves. It creaks when you give it a solid tug to test its stability. You bite your lip in contemplation before turning back to the ghoul. “Think you can move this, Mister?”
“You better be right, Sweetheart.” he tutted, but complied, pushing himself off the doorframe before joining you. He towers over you and rests his hands against the polished wood. “Move.”
You did as told and gave him some room.
He managed to slide his fingers against the back of the bookcase and spread out his legs before letting go of a throaty groan and pulling with all his strength. Your knee jittered with the need to step in and help, but you hesitated, succumbing to your manners and letting him do the heavy lifting. The last thing you wanted was to insult his capabilities or hurt his man-pride.
The case toppled with a thunderous crash and its contents spilled over the carpet, some trinkets bounced off your boot and rolled under the desk. The wooden planks that had been hidden behind it were slightly caved in compared to the rest. A thick carving resembling a door was engraved in them along with a small rectangular shape just a few inches to the side.
This was it.
“Hallelujah.” he chuckles and kneads his shoulder while flexing it, brows raised and eyes settled on the hidden entrance and glistening with wonder. “Guess you weren’t lyin’ after all.”
You clumsily step over the mountain of books and smashed wood, arms extended for balance until you’re close enough to press down on the rectangle. With a whirling hiss, the wood slides to the side and a hole perfectly shaped like a Pip-boy appears. You stuck your hand in without a second thought, beyond impatient and on the verge of crying because your ankle was burning so intensely you wanted to just rip it off.
The door gave way with a few audible clicks and the storage lit up instantly, you guessed the lamps didn’t depend on the vault’s fusion cores, another little trickery to keep this place hidden. The power management engineers would have most likely noticed the excess electricity being used for a room that wasn’t supposed to exist. A smart move and also for nothing, everyone was dead.
The cynic in you cackled.
You were quick to rip your hand free and enter, spotting the hefty array of medical supplies gathered over a metal cart, driven by pain and discomfort and lacking the self-control to keep it a secret any longer.
“Well, I’ll be…” the ghoul gapes at the overflowing storage, pleasantly surprised and nodding to himself. “Consider your debt repaid, Missy.” he plunges his knife into a sack of tatoes and promptly empties it.
His arm swipes over a metal shelf of stimpaks, greedily bunching them up and into the sack as he licks his teeth at the upcoming profit.
When you don’t reply to his remark he finally takes his gaze off the mounds of supplies and medicine and looks to you.
You’re a mussing mess, abrupt jitters causing bottles of pills and packages of bandages to pile at your feet as you scour for something specific. Initially, he opts to leave you be and focus on his own task, but when a disheartened noise slips past you he caves.
“The hell’s got you scramblin’ about like a cornered rat?”
You wince and turn back with a trembling frown. Your search had come out fruitless, the plan was spoiled at the absence of any antibiotics and you internally cursed for not stopping by the med-bay earlier and checking there first. Then again, you needed a key card and you weren’t fond of checking the pockets of decapitated vault residents just for that. But your open wound didn’t care for your antics. Now your ankle was probably red, still oozing and by how it rubbed against your sock, it was even more irritated and sickeningly sticky.
His stern look was relentless and you sucked in a breath before speaking.
“I can’t find any antibiotics…for my ankle.” you swallow a sob like a child caught red-handed trying to sneak past a broken vase. “The cockroaches – One of them bit me or cut me I think and… And it was fine at first, but then it started getting infected and I thought I’d find something here to help, but I don’t think only spirit will help so I thought antibiotics, but I can’t find any and it hurts so bad now – ”
You halted when his jaw stiffed and did nothing when he stomped close enough for you to feel the heat radiating off him. The sack was slumped by you and as he glared you simply averted your eyes to the floor.
“Sit.” he commands in a rigid tone, forcing you on your rump as the coldness of the tile floor seeps through your dress. “ ‘N take it off.” the tip of his boot nudges your foot before he tugs his pants up and squats in front of you with elbows resting on his thighs.
It’s only after you slip off your now-ruined sock that he cringes in annoyance and grabs your calf to turn it for a better view. Angry red outlined the open gash and the dead skin that still clung to it was soaked in colorless stickiness. He pressed on the side of the wound, shooting down your attempt at escaping with a scalding look, and more goo was excreted.
Radroaches were clean creatures, he’d seen them grooming themselves more than hunting for food. However, being mutated by radiation did tend to add some spice to their bites and you trudging around barefoot for a good full day had only added to the accelerated decay. Nasty little cut that was.
“Stupid git.” he hisses and stuffs a hand in the sack. “Nothen’ a lil stimpak can’t fix though. And lucky for you, we hit a goldmine.” the large syringe glints under the blaring white lights and he pushes at the base to snuff out any air bubbles before lowering it to your calf. “Now hold still.”
The sight of the needle makes you stiffen, a plethora of memories flashing past your widened eyes, and you’re overtaken by such a raw desire to get away that you nearly kick him off balance in your struggle.
Too many years stuffed full of constant medications and transfusions and scalpels and cuts and taking blood samples and fucking needles. All your life you’d suffered through nothing but medical treatments and the first day spent away from such hell had you realized just how traumatizing it had all been. Obligated to just take it because there was no alternative, you were never given a choice in the matter. You weren’t ready for this again, seeing that stupid needle so close to your skin made your heart drop in your stomach.
“Wait. Mister, wait. Wait!” you grab onto the metal bars of the cart as his grip on your calf tightens painfully.
“Quit fussin’!” he all but growls and pulls you back in place once you’d made some progress in slipping away. His tolerance for your display vaporizes when you land another inadvertent kick to his knee. He lets your calf go and reaches for the back of your head, grabbing onto a fistful of your hair and jostling you still. He’s right in your face and spitting acid. “What the hell’s wrong with you?!”
“The needle.” you hiccup and wrap your sweet little fingers around his forearm. Tears swell in your eyes from both pain and fear and it does something to him again, but he doesn’t relent. “The needle…I can’t – ” you whimper and plead, crumbling in his hold. “Please don’t, Mister…”
He’s taken aback. The menace drains from his gaunt features, baring snarl gone, and his grip on your hair loosens.
“You’re kiddin’ me.” his eyes roll from you to the stimpak as if you’d said the most mind-blowing bullshit he’d ever heard. He dangles the wretched thing in front of you, watching you follow it incessantly, not even blinking. “You’re scared o’ this?”
You make a noise of displeasure and avert your face when he brings the stimpak closer. For once his mocking laugh isn’t welcomed. When he’s assured you’re not just being a brat and actually hold a crippling distaste for the needle, the ghoul pulls away with a scoff.
He thinks, rubbing his knuckles against his jaw while you sit between his knees, immobilized by his grip.
“Well shit...” he lets you go and you bonelessly slump back into the cart.
He’s not one for comfort, doesn’t know what words to use to help you overcome your dilemma; he can’t just jam the stimpak in and risk striking a bone, can’t slide it in gently because you’ll go into another fit. He could just leave…
“Look at me.” he beckoned and snapped his fingers at you. When that didn’t work, he grabbed your face and squished your cheeks, forcing you to obey by giving you a sharp jerk. He leans close enough for you to feel his breath hit your nostrils and of course, it smells like cram. “I said look. At. Me.”
Your eyes go from dazed to bulging when you feel the needle press back against your calf. A pathetic ensemble of bleats accompanies your heaving chest and you hold onto his wrist like it’s the only thing keeping you from dying on the spot.
“Shhhh – shhhh – shhh, ‘s okay Sweetheart.” he hushes you with peculiar softness, stifling your meek complaints and scolding your eyes back to his own when he sees your attention dart down to your leg. You wince briefly at the prickle and his pinkie and ring finger leave your cheek and settle at the edge of your jaw, pressing down and rubbing ever so lightly. With an even push of his thumb, the syringe is emptied. “There you go…” he gives your cheek a good pat and leans away, resting on his knees. The pack of gauze you’d carelessly tossed away in your rampage was picked up and ripped open. “The good news is, you don’t need no stitches…but how d’ you intend to survive if you can’t even use a stimpak?”
“I’ll…” you smile in pain and it’s so crooked it rivals his. “I’ll figure it out.”
Chapter 4 >>>
🌼 Masterlist 🌼
Tag list: @bountydroid @judgementdays-girl
#cooper howard#cooper howard x reader#cooper howard x you#fallout tv series#the ghoul fanfic#the ghoul x you#the ghoul x reader#the ghoul fallout#x reader#fallout the ghoul#fallout show#the ghoul
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Here you will find the full list of my works for Daryl Dixon and other characters portrayed by Norman Reedus. [Main masterlist]
Requests are OPEN
⬇️ Masterlist under the cut! ⬇️ [My Ao3]
★ indicates smut, 18+ content.
Series
Paintings & Picture frames [Pt.1] [Pt.2] [Pt.3] [Pt.4] [Pt.5] [Pt.6] [Pt.7]
No apocalypse AU. Daryl and reader are studying at the same college and are assigned orientation project parters. [ONGOING, HIATUS]
Wings [Pt.1] [Pt.2] [Pt.3] [Pt.4] [Pt.5] [Pt.6]
Judith plays matchmaker by stealing your jacket and making it match Daryl’s
Oneshots
Records of forgotten times
Digging through old music brings back sad memories, but also happy talks of the future.
Sinful ★
Father Daryl enjoys some private moments with the not-really nun.
Ruppel
You're chilling on the couch watching your favorite show. Daryl joins you because he wants to learn about your interests.
Shielded (Fantasy AU)
Everyone openly shows and uses their powers, except for Daryl. Until you get hurt.
Bad ideas ★
During a laundry round while home alone you find some ..'used' items of Daryl's to fuck yourself with and now have to work through the concequences.
Girlfriend
Daryl is in a sucky relationship but doesn't see it at first. Reader helps him see and later shows him how a good partnership works.
Hunters Ink
One tattoo leads to many more when you fall head over heels with the artist.
Creep (modern AU)
Finding an apartment in this new town was easy, but now you needed a job.
Daisy chains
Daryl gets separated after the prison attack. He comes across a home for him and his kid to hole up in. Your home.
Beef
Requested : "Could you do a Daryl x reader where at first he doesn’t like her, and she tries to get to know why hes so mean to her? Maybe he yells at her and then some comfort after?"
Rough times
Requested: Hi! Would you be willing to maybe do a one shot with Daryl x reader in a pre established relationship but the reader is pregnant with a child that doesn't belong to him and she isn't proud of? (non-con if you're comfortable with that) Some angst about the reader being worried he won't love her once he finds out 👀
The fun has just begun
Two men snatch you away for some fun. Before they even get anywhere you and Daryl have turned the tables and have some fun of your own. CW: Torture
Forest Guardian
You plan a week long vacation to a luxury cabin. Luxury is nowhere near what you find.
Not your usual undead (Vampire AU)
Which undead do you choose? The ones outside, or the one in front of you?
Drabbles
Period cramp relief
Photographer Daryl
Different kinds of sex w/ Daryl
You needed Daryl for something
"Hey buddy, what are you doing here?"
"Carol gave me some cookies to share!"
Rick and Daryl go out on a run
Old man Daryl
Showing Daryl how beautiful he is ★
Worshipping Daryl's worn body
🐺Were!Daryl 🦊Were!Reader
🐺Series🐺
Shared interests [Pt.1] [Pt.2] [Pt.3] [Pt.4] ★
Grimes!reader. Your father shares information about the man he considers his brother in support of your interests. Those interests take a different turn than he expected..
🐺Multichapters🐺
🐺Monsters among us [Pt.1] [Pt.2]
Your water breaks in the middle of nowhere but you find the prison in time for them to help you. There you meet the man of your nightmares. CW: childbirth
🐺🦊Feral for you [Pt.1] [Pt.2★]
Request. Daryl develops a crush on a soft and sweet lady, afraid to ask you out and ruin your sweetness, only to learn later on your have a feral side as well,
🐺Oneshots🐺
🐺 His girls (xOFCs)
Alexandria's new residents find a dog. And his very handsome owner.
🐺Full moon meetings
You get stuck in the woods, surrounded by walkers and are saved by ..something.
🐺Night shifts
During a night shift with Rick he sends you to investigate movement in the woods, knowing it would end with two of his group members coming home together.
🐺Dog person ★
You’re Dog’s new favorite human and Daryl gets jealous. Lucky for him you’re also good with his dog-side.
🐺Creature Feature ★
After overhearing your spilled dirty little secret of old world fantasies, Daryl suddenly feels like he does have a chance to get you into bed with him.
🐺Unexpected
This can be read as a continuation of Dog Person. Reader is pregnant with Daryl’s pups and has to hide it from the community until they can leave for Daryl’s cabin. CW: childbirth
🐺Roses for the ones left behind
Daryl gets taken and leaves a pregnant reader, not knowing her child and partner aren’t human. CW: childbirth
🐺New comforts ★ alt. ending ★
No one needed to know that sex between the two of you was for human Daryl only. Alt.: Rick now knows.
🐺Witch hunt
Thanks to an emotional slip-up you almost risk your home in Alexandria.
🐺Arrows & Rags
You help a wounded creature who leads you back to its den, where you find the one person you thought you had lost in the walker attack.
🐺Why didn't you tell me?
You follow Daryl into the woods on the one night he asked you to stay away.
🐺🦊The softer the skin, the sharper the teeth
Request. WereDaryl and Glen find a she wolf (in human form) out and talk to her about coming to the prison. She and Daryl are mates
🐺 Shame
Your most private moments are shared with the intent to drive you away. And it amost worked.
🐺 Not a monster
Request. Beauty and the Beast inspired fic. Set during Alexandria times.
🐺 Domesticated
Request. Cuddling in bed, like mundane little moments in their relationship
🐺 Bath time
Daryl's distaste for showers rubbed off on his children.
🐺 Forbidden ★
Strickt parents and werewolves don't mix, so you run.
🐺🦊 Found
Daryl finds a young girl and takes her home. He adopts her and learns she's a wolf too.
🐺 Savior ★
You show a little too much interest in Negan's new prisoner so he uses you as a test subject. CW: Non-con, forced impreg
🐺King of the cage
In the apocalypse, entertainment is hard to come by. Until you hear of underground groups fighting with anything nonhuman.. CW: Descriptive violence and murder.
🐺King and his Queen ★
[KING series pt.2] After Daryl's match he gets treated like royalty by his loving partner.
🐺Instincts
Daryl finds a woman with her newborn pup, taking them into the group. Slowly their bond grows stronger.
🐺Rules of Nature
Daryl gets hurt on a simple hunting trip and reader patches him up.
🐺Get rid of it
You and Daryl never fought, until you did. Daryl relives old traumas while you stay at Hilltop.
🐺Drabbles🐺
🦊 Daryl was out on a hunt > Daryl liked being around her > Daryl has never been so proud
🐺 Daryl hated full moon these days.
🐺 You, Carol and Daryl go out on a run.
🐺 "Man, 's colder than a witch's tit."
🐺 You and Daryl had a great life.
🐺 Daryl came home early today.
🐺 Daryl saves you
🐺 You were all sitting around the bonfire
🐺 Daryl came home from a run. (xOFCs)
The adventures of Daryl the werewolf and his witch girlfriend.
Inked Sigils. ★
Fate brought you together. Spells finally brought you family
Bored ★
You tagged along with your boyfriend who ‘just needed a minute’, but you were so bored..
Momma's boy ★
You find your boyfriend all alone and desperate in your apartment, so you help him out. Again.
Warm & fuzzy
You just love him. It doesn’t matter what the others think
Much fun indeed ★
A summary of what being with the biker has thought you over time.
Coming soon??
Double Stuffed ★ Daryl/Scud/reader
It's your birthday so you get to have twice the fun!
#sometimes i write#writing#masterlist#the walking dead#twd#fanfic#daryl dixon#daryl dixon x reader#daryl dixon smut#daryl dixon imagine#twd daryl#twd: daryl dixon#twd au#werewolf#werewolves#monster x human#human x monster#scud fromeyer#scud blade 2#scud x reader#scud imagine#scud fanfiction#scud smut#norman reedus#joshua fromeyer#murphy macmanus#murphy macmanus x reader#funny sonny
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Soiled
Pairing: Motocross!Curtis Everett x Female Reader
Summary: Curtis can't stand you. At least, that's what he tells himself.
Word Count: Over 820
Warnings: Very mild eventual enemies to lovers, quick judgement, light banter, Curtis doesn't want to admit he wants you. Motocross!Curtis Everett (he's a warning, okay?)
A/N: Meet Rusty and Princess! My first time writing for Curtis. Excited to dive into their eventual romance. Thanks to @drabblewithfrannybarnes for looking this over, @buckyownsmylife for the Rusty nickname, and @nocturne-pisces for previous discussions. Any and all mistakes are my own. Header by yours truly, banner by the amazing @sgt-seabass and divider by the talented @saradika . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated! ❤️
Curtis Everett couldn’t stand you from the moment he laid eyes on you.
When he wasn’t racing or practicing, he worked at the salvage yard that your father owned. He didn’t mind the work and the pay was decent.
Between his job and the tracks, he was bound to be surrounded by dirt and grime.
While he enjoyed working for your dad, who showed time and again that he was a hard worker who respected his employees, you were a different story.
The first time he spotted you at the yard, you walked toward the office with a casual sort of haughtiness that made him sneer.
Your purse likely cost more than his entire paycheck, as did the rest of your outfit.
Glancing at your manicured nails as you stopped walking, he wondered if you ever worked a day in your life.
A princess amongst peasants. He knew the type all too well.
“Excuse me,” you said, sliding your sunglasses down to stare at him with a cool, assessing gaze when he didn’t say anything. “Excuse me.”
“What do you want?” Curtis asked, thankful that it wasn’t his customer service skills he was paid for.
“You’re kind of standing in front of the door and I’d like to go inside.”
“Please, tell me you’re not applying for a job here,” he said before he could stop himself, looking you up and down. “You’re a little overdressed.”
He did not sweep his gaze over you because he found you attractive.
You lifted your chin with a grin. “I have a job, thanks. I’m actually here to see my dad.”
Curtis glanced at the door over his shoulder before looking back at you. “Your dad?”
“Yeah, my dad,” you said, taking a cautious step forward, like you were afraid you’d scuff your shoe. “He owns this place.”
Looking you over again, he couldn’t imagine you as the boss's daughter.
Your blue collar father who tore it up on the track before he stopped racing years ago didn’t seem like the type to raise a spoiled brat.
To be fair, Curtis didn’t actually know if you were a brat. He knew better than to judge a book by its cover.
But he already placed you in the “first class” section of his mind.
Too good for someone like him.
“So, may I please go inside?” you asked, sliding your sunglasses back up. “You’re still standing in front of the door.”
“By all means, princess,” he said, taking a bow before he stepped to the side.
You scoffed as you brushed past him, the sweet scent of your perfume lingering in the air. “Aww, if I’m a princess, does that make you my brave knight?”
“Not a chance,” he muttered, torn between purposely bumping into you to get your clothes dirty or shoving you against the door and kissing you.
No, he was not going to think of how your lips would taste. He refused.
“That’s too bad,” you said over your shoulder. “So nice to meet you, Rusty.”
“My name is Curtis,” he said through his teeth, wondering why he bothered correcting you.
“Tell that to the name on your shirt and the dirt on your face. Bye, Rusty!” you said, shutting the door behind you.
"It's Curtis!" he shouted, snatching the hat off his head and almost throwing it in frustration.
He vented later that day to Daisy, one of his only female friends.
“Just because she dresses well doesn’t mean she’s stuck up. Maybe she just likes to look nice."
"No, she's a stuck up pretty princess," he argued.
"You just called her pretty."
"When are you gonna ask Steve out?" he asked, changing the subject because he refused to focus on the fact that you were pretty.
No, he already made his mind up about you.
It didn’t matter that you started stopping by the yard more to bring your dad and the crew food, which he grudgingly accepted after Edgar gave him a hard time.
"She's just sucking up," Curtis said, wiping his hands before he grabbed a sandwich.
"It's working," Edgar said with a mouthful of food.
It never once got under his skin that you still called him “Rusty” with a smirk whenever he called you "Princess".
"You know my name, Princess. Watch where you're stepping."
"Careful, Rusty," you teased. "I'll start to think you care if I get dirty."
And it didn't mean a thing when you stepped into the office late one night to help sort your dad's paperwork when he had to leave early.
Which was the first time he saw you look less than perfect when he caught you wiping a stray tear away as you headed back to your car.
He thought of calling after you to see if you were okay, but he didn't. He was probably seeing things.
Besides, it wasn't any of his business. You weren't his girl.
A princess like you never would be.
What do we think, lovelies? And, yes, Daisy is another reader who is totally crushing on Steve Rogers. Curtis approves. Love and thanks for reading. ❤️
Masterlist ⚓ Dialed In Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi
#navybrat writes#curtis everett x reader#curtis everett x female reader#curtis everett x you#curtis everett x y/n#curtis everett#motocross!curtis everett#motocross!curtis everett x reader#curtis everett imagine#curtis everett fanfiction#curtis everett au#dialed in#dialed in: motocross au#motocross au#chris evans x reader#chris evans x female reader#chris evans x you
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Got tagged by @theycallme-thejackal ! ❤️
shuffle your on repeat playlist and list the first 10 songs
1. Duvet - Boa
2. Watch me fall apart - Sarah Jaffe
3. How to be a heartbreaker - Marina and the diamonds
4. The river - Daisy Jones and the six
5. Girls - girl in red
6. Butterfly - Grimes
7. Suite sudarmoricaine - Nolwenn Leroy
8. Pourquoi la mort te fais peur - Pomme
9. Miss Americana & the heartbreak Prince - Taylor Swift
10. Choreomania - Florence + the machine
Tagging @realisticintentions @realmermaid333 @suchaladyy @crazyexshiper @dam-bluecookies @diamantdog @cupoteahatter @badmoodbatflowers @fangeek-girl and @unlifeira !
#literally just shuffled my liked songs cause it’s pretty much the only way o listen to music#tag game
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[ID: Eight digital drawings of Jonathan Sims from TMA, a thin, British-Indian man with dark, curly hair and a moustache that are shown to rapidly grow out and turn almost entirely grey over the events of the story. He also accrues various scars on his face, neck, and arms, and in the images based in seasons four and five he is shown to have an eerie glow in his eyes, similar to the red eye effect in photos. The drawings depict: Jon with his head raised as Daisy presses a knife to his neck, drawing blood; looking down with a peaceful expression, reading something; smiling sheepishly to the side as he says “To be quite honest, Martin, I’m really rather relieved”; smiling eerily, his face mostly obscured in shadow, as he says “It’s alright, Floyd. You just... need a break”; raising one eyebrow with a horrified expression as he says “We do not want it”; staring silently into the middle distance, shirtless and covered in grime; lifting one hand in a placating gesture as he says “I am not losing you as well!”; and smiling, the sclera of his eyes visibly damaged and red, as he says “Yes, Martin, you are my reason”. The background is dark red and there are frenetic scribbles behind each depiction, which grow brighter and more disordered according to his level of distress. End ID.]
well you see i decided that my s1 jon design needed a receding hairline and a moustache and it just kinda spiralled out of control idk what to tell u. he’s just like that
#the magnus archives#tma#jon sims#jarchivist#jonblogging#ooooo can i remember the episodes tho#uh#mag 91#mag 56#mag 141#mag 132#mag 34#mag 118#mag 167#then the reading one doesnt really have a specific episode attached lmao#how obvi is it that i used amar chadha-patel as my ref for these........... probably very <3#my#saint draws#eye trauma#eye horror#blood#blades#scars#scopophobia
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MidnightsWithDearKatyTSPB’s Recommendation List: March PT. 2
Welcome to part 2 of March’s recommendation list. Down below, you can find the link to take you back to part 1 featuring Peaky Blinders, Frankie Morales from Triple Frontier, Frank Castle, and the works that I posted. I still have some specialists that I’m traveling to go see, so there might not be 32 links this time around, but we’ll have to wait and see. The goal for March is to write another chapter In This Heart and rewrite The Spark. If you are interested in having your writing challenges featured here, or your stories, or even just your blog, please feel free to tag me in your works, message me, or use the hashtag MidnightWithDearKatyTSPB. I hope you are having an amazing March and you didn’t have such a hard time springing ahead.
☘️ March '23 Pt. 1
April '23 Pt. 1 🌸
Masterlist
37 of 44 Years (Moodboard) ... Dedication to my parents.
All For You My Daisy (Moodboard) >> Garret Hedlund, Pedro Pascal, and Tommy Shelby
Begin Again (Moodboard) >> Ted Lasso x OFC!Penny Fletcher | Moodboard made for @teds-mustache-wrangler story Begin Again.
Innocence and Sadness (Moodboard) >> Arthur Shelby ... dedicated to @cillmequick
Peaky x Lana Challenge (Moodboard) >> Alfie Solomons x Reader x Tommy Shelby | “I’ve got a black limousine and two gentlemen who escort me through these halls.”
Two Broken Souls (Moodboard) >> Tommy Shelby x OFC!Estella Holland | “Come, Josephine in my flying machine. Going up, she goes, up she goes.”
Update//Calm Down by All Time Low (Moodboard) >> Garrett Hedlund, Luke Grimes, and Pedro Pascal
ONE-SHOTS:
As His Daughter by @sneakyblinders >> Dad!Tommy Shelby x Reader ft. Daughter!Kate Shelby - Summery: As Kate Shelby becomes an older sister yet again, she realizes she doesn't really know her father. Her mother is on a mission to change that. | You'll go through the emotions with this one, I promise. For those who need the warning, there are mentions of childbirth!
Loving Girl by @valentine-in-my-quinjet >> Tommy Shelby x Reader - Summary: You've always known you would be a better partner for Tommy. After Grace died, you had to reassess your motivations for being close to Tommy because he needed a friend more than ever before. | You will need a tissue with this one. TW: Suicide Mentioned
Make Your Heart My Home by @look-at-the-soul >> Tommy Shelby x Reader - Summery: Y/N hasn't had the best life. In fact, she's physically running from it into the physical arms of one Tommy Shelby, who saves her. | Read this, get a little emotional, but fall in love with its ending.
Mr. Girraffe by @teenwolf-theoriginals >> Dad!Tommy Shelby x Reader - Summary: Florence's giraffe gets lost in Johnny Dogs camp. | The family dynamic in this is quite adorable, and I love how sweet Tommy is as well.
The Perfect Team by @runnning-outof-time >> Arthur Shelby x Reader - Summary: Arthur's ability to reason with (Y/N)'s child has them realizing that they work rather well together. | This is absolutely adorable and light-hearted, definitely recommend reading it.
'Teach You a Lesson by @celticmelody >> Tommy Shelby x Reader - Summary: you’re soon to marry Thomas Shelby, the infamous horseman amongst the gangsters in Birmingham. however, when he finds out you’ve never ridden before, he makes it a task to teach you… amongst other lessons that unravel afterwards. | If all riding lessons with Tommy were to end this way, I would take them every day as well. 🥵
When One Heart Breaks The Other, Follows by @little-diable >> Tommy Shelby x Reader | Summary: Tommy has been at war for months, and the only thing the reader can cling to is the letters he kept writing. Until the day when he no longer writes to her, when she no longer knows if he's alive or not. All until one last letter finds its way to her. | I've been emotional lately, okay? So did I need tissues when I read this? Yes! But was I smiling by the end? YES!
SERIES:
*A Different Sort of Man Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 by @evita-shelby >> Tommy Shelby x OFC!Eva, Canon!Tommy x Grace Burgess - Summary: Or where Eva plays around with magic, and Tommy wakes up in a universe where Grace is his wife. While in that universe, Tommy discovers just how different his life would have been if he had pursued the pretty witch in 71 Watery Lane. | My mother always warned me growing up to never fiddle with magic, but this just makes me want to... Only two chapters in, and it's so good. The switching of points of view is everything I could have asked for.
The Photographer // Part 13 by @midnightmagpiemama >> Modern!Tommy Shelby x Photographer!Reader - Summary: Hired to take pictures of your boyfriend's cousin's wedding, you are excited to spend the night in the presence of your boyfriend doing what you love. The night, however, doesn't go as according to plans. Or, the one where Gina and Micheal get married, Gina sits Lizzy at Tommy's table. And people have opinions on your relationship with Tommy. | Erin is such a fantastic writer, and I truly love this series. In this chapter, she just captures Tommy and Polly so beautifully.
A Royal Wedding of Small Heath Part 1 // Part 2 by @sneakyblinders >> Tommy Shelby x Reader - Summary: Tommy is getting married in what the newspaper is calling The Royal Wedding of Small Heath with the announcement of their engagement. It's fitting, as his wife is his Queen. | If I had to picture my wedding to Tommy, this is exactly how I would want it to go. I love how some parts came straight from the TV show. It was just perfect.
Welcome to Downtown, Mr. Shelby by @notyour-valentine >> Tommy Shelby x Crawley!OC - Summary: He was born on a boat, with neither of his parents sure of the date after the fact, unregistered and unlisted until he went to fight for his country. Her birth had been celebrated with the ringing of church bells, champagne toasts, and announcements in newspapers on both sides of the Atlantic. Their worlds could not have been more different, and perhaps that was why, when Thomas Shelby looked at Lady Charlotte Crawley, he saw more than her title, more than her looks- he saw an opportunity. | Enjoyed reading this and emerging myself into this little world, and look forward to what is to come for Charlotte and Tommy.
SERIES:
*Push & Pull // Chapter 4: Coming Of Age by @milkymoon2483 >> Frank Castle X Plus Size Jewish OC Hannah Friedman - Summary: You’re going back to your small town for your father’s funeral and Shiva. You know you’re about to face family drama, but what worries you the most is that you’re going to see HIM, your dad’s long-time friend and probably the most attractive man you have ever met. When Frank finally sees you and realizes that you're all grown up, he struggles with accepting his budding feelings for you. | This chapter had me feeling so many emotions. You start with a stomach drop, then you feel so sad, and then you end it on a great high, needing a tall glass of water to cool down. Anna knows how to make you feel every emotion that the main character is going through at every moment of the chapter. That is a true talent.
Triple Frontier:
🍑 Appeteaser Benny Miller + Shower Sex by @dameronscopilo >> Benny Miller x Reader - Summary: Benny comes home after a long day and enjoys some time with his girl. | Let me just say this is really hot, and I thoroughly enjoyed it.
Here With Me by @pasukiyo >> Frankie Morales x f!reader - Summary: When your husband promises it will only be one week, your gut tells you it won't, you beg him to stay if not just for you, but for your family. (Horrible summary by me) | This starts off so sad and emotional, and it ends on a spicy note. It's perfect.
A Proposition by @dameronscopilot >> Santiago "Pope" Garcia x f!reader x Benjamin "Benny" Miller - Summary: Benny returns to Florida after six months of backpacking his way across Australia, and the surf and sun have treated him well. Very well. You can't help but notice. ...Santiago thinks that maybe it's time for the two of you to change things up in the bedroom. Because if he's going to share you with anyone, it's most certainly going to be Benjamin Miller | Is it just me, or is it really HOT in here right now? 🥵 I think I better go open the window after reading this one.
Untitled Sick!fic with Benny by @dameronscopilot >> Benny Miller x Reader - Summary: benny knows exactly what you need when you're sick—in more ways than one. | If Benny ever wants to come to take care of me like this when I'm sick, or now even, he's more than welcome.
"Wear whatever you want, I can fight." by @plaguedoctorsmistress >> Benny Miller x Reader - Summary: When your boyfriend can’t seem to do anything but whine about your outfit, Benny’s jealousy finally gets the best of him, and he takes matters into his own hand. | Benny can defend my honor any day and call me princess all he wants.
*The Wedding Party by @goodwithcheese >> Frankie Morales x f!reader - Summary: Series Summary: A combined bachelorette/bachelor party introduces you to a brown-eyed pilot. | I loved this series so much that I read it in one night on AO3 when I came across it. I'm so glad it came up on my dashboard so I could share it with you guys here. It's both fluffy and sexy!
You Again?! by @theunbearableweightofpedropascal >> Benny Miller x Reader - Summary: You keep running into the guy you had sex with in an airport bathroom. | If you looking for some good spiciness and a mixture of giggles, this one is for you.
CILLIAN MURPHY:
Chances Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, & Part 4 by @creativepawsworld >> Cillian Murphy x OFC!Paige - Summary: A single mother meets an unlikely lover after a concert. Putting herself out of her comfort zone. Can she find herself a mate for life? | The story has everything in it, fluff, a little bit of angst, and some spiciness.
Quicky by @peakyscillian >> Cillian Murphy x Fem!Reader - Summary: Cillian just can't wait. | If you are looking for something romantic, hot, and with a dash of laughter, this is it.
GERALT OF RIVIA:
Late Bloomer by @cherienymphe >> Alpha!Geralt x Omega!Reader - Summary: Geralt of Rivia saves you from more than just a werewolf attack. | Sometimes, a one-shot is so good you share it twice with your followers. I'm pretty sure I shared it when I first started doing recommendations, and I'm sharing it again.
PEDRO PASCAL CHARACTERS:
Chokehold by @psychedelic-ink >> Joel Miller x Reader x Ezra - Summary: Joel’s frustrations run deep; to him, you were a twisted source of purity; touching you forced him to think, forced him to feel. But not Ezra. With him, he could do anything. A scary yet also exhilarating feeling. Or alternatively: You wake up to Joel and Ezra having sex. | The emotions you feel while reading this are just too good for me not to share.
I Forgot About Time and Space by @psychedelic-ink >> Ezra x Fem!Reader - Summary: You cook for Ezra's guests, and seeing the sight of you being so domestic awakens something in him. | The smut in this *chef's kiss* and the plot in general. Please read this when you are alone. You'll thank me later.
*The Infinity Cube by @littlemisspascal >> Marcus Pike x Reader ft. Various Pedro Characters - Summary: When you play with a strange cube, you’re transported out of your current reality with your boyfriend Marcus into brand new ones starring alternate versions of your boyfriend who look and act entirely different every time. With each encounter, you start to wonder if you’ll ever make it back to your real universe? | Such a good use of the Multiverse and it introduced me to characters that Pedro played that I haven't yet watched. Rae does an amazing job keeping you at the edge of your seat and passing off such deep emotions. It's a must read for Pedro Pascal fans.
*Meet The Millers by @musings-of-a-rose >> Joel Miller x Benny Miller x Will Miller x f!reader - Summary: Moving into the Boston Quarantine Zone after nearly 20 years on the outside takes some adjusting. A misdirection one night guides you to the 3 men who will change the course of your life. | This series has a little bit of everything from drama to love and spiciness. There isn't much more you could ask for out of this series other than wishing for more.
When You're Reading Me by @psychedelic-ink >> Joel Miller x Reader - Summary: If you had to make a list of things Joel Miller might buy you as a gift— nipple clamps would not be a part of it. | *Internally screams* This was really hot, and I think I'll go grab a cold shower now.
STRANGER THINGS:
The Grief of Losing Eddie Munson by @eufezco >> Steve Harrington x Reader - Summary: Best friends with Eddie Munson, the reader goes through the stages of grief of losing her best friend with her family at her side. | Someone pass me the box of tissues. This was so good. I cried through almost the whole thing.
MOODBOARDS:
My Luck by @forgottenpeakywriter >> Tommy Shelby x Reader
My Sun, My Moon and All My Stars by @zablife >> Tommy Shelby x OFC!Aurora Sabini | Lee puts together a breathtakingly beautiful moodboard for a what-if scenario in the Peaky Blinders universe. It leaves you wanting to read more and more for the couple.
Your Bread by @forgottenpeakywriter >> Alfie Solomons x Reader
Your Eyes by @forgottenpeakywriter >> Tommy Shelby x Reader
You Like That by @dearshelby >> Tommy Shelby x Reader | Tall glass of cold water to cool down, please!
@psychedelic-ink - SIL, is such an amazing writer, writing most recently for Pedro Pascal's characters and sharing her amazing works with us here. Her masterlist includes more than just Pedro's characters, having written for the MCU and Oscar Isaac, to name a couple. I love the emotions you feel through every piece of writing she puts out, and I have yet to find a piece I don't like. I think you'll find you like or perhaps love her writing just as much as I do.
@shelbydelrey - Isa is a Peaky Blinder writer whose work I enjoy reading and love seeing the moodboards she puts out as well. I would definitely give Isa a follow because she brings positivity to your dashboard with her reviews and welcoming spirit.
#fanfiction recommendation#ktk recommends#ktk rec#midnightswithdearkatytspb#alfie solomons x reader x tommy shelby#alfie solomons#tommy shelby#alfie solomons x reader#benjamin miller x reader#benny miller#frankie morales#frankie morales x reader#tommy shelby x reader#thomas shelby x reader#peaky blinders#cillian murphy#cillian murphy x ofc#ted lasso x ofc#ted lasso#arthur shelby#arthur shelby x reader#alpha geralt of rivia#geralt of rivia x reader#grace burgess#tommy shelby x grace burgess#tommy shelby x eva smith shelby#pedro pacal#joel miller x reader x ezra#joel miller x reader#joel miller x ezra
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4K Ultra HD Review: Basket Case
Unlike most "prestigious" organizations dedicated to the arts (I'm looking at you, Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences), the Museum of Modern Art doesn't ignore the existence of genre fare. Nevertheless, there's something surreal about seeing "This film is from the collections of The Museum of Modern Art" at the start of Basket Case, a sleazy exploitation picture shot on 16mm over the course of a year for under $35,000.
The 1982 film follows Duane Bradley (Kevin VanHentenryck), who carries around his formerly-conjoined twin brother, a deformed, fleshy menace named Belial, in a wicker basket. While Duane intends to get revenge on the medical professionals who performed their unwanted separation surgery, Belial indiscriminately kills anyone who opens the basket like a malevolent jack in the box.
It's clear from the start that some sort of creature is contained within the basket, but writer-director Frank Henenlotter (Frankenhooker, Brain Damage) smartly allows the tension to build before revealing Belial in all his glory at the end of the first act. There's no mistaking it for anything but inanimate rubber (save for a primitive stop-motion sequence), but its blood-curdling screams give it life. Special effects artists Kevin Haney and John Caglione Jr. both won Oscars for Best Makeup — for Driving Miss Daisy and Dick Tracy, respectively — less than a decade removed from Basket Case.
MoMA's 4K restoration of Basket Case's original 16mm AB negative reels arrives on 4K Ultra HD with Dolby Vision (HDR10 compatible) and original uncompressed PCM mono audio via Arrow Video. Importantly, the restoration presents the film in newfound clarity while preserving the '80s NYC grime inherent to the film. The limited edition set comes with reversible artwork, a double-sided fold-out poster, and a booklet with writing on the film by horror historian Michael Gingold and a Basket Case comic strip by Martin Trafford, all housed in a slipcase featuring artwork by Sara Deck.
While no new special features were produced for the 4K, the plethora of existing materials including cover every conceivable aspect of the film. Henenlotter and VanHentenryck's breathless commentary from Arrow's 2017 Blu-ray doubles as a low-budget film school, from reusing sets to dumpster diving for decor. An archival track from Something Weird's 2001 DVD with Henenlotter, producer Edgar Ievins, actress Beverly Bonner, and Basket Case 2 production assistant Scooter McRae repeats most of the insight, but it's fun to hear their rapport.
Interviews are ported over with VanHentenryck, who discusses his cerebral approach to playing the character; Bonner, who wrote and starred in a play examining where her character might be 30 years after Basket Case; Florence and Maryellen Schultz, Henenlotter's identical twin cousins who play nurses in the film and share his unique sense of humor; and legendary film critic and The Last Drive-In host Joe Bob Briggs, whose campaign to host the film's drive-in premiere saved it from being cut by its distributor.
A joke interview with Henenlotter features the filmmaker portrayed by Albert Cadabra, a sideshow performer who edited Henenlotter's Bad Biology, in the nude. The Latvian Connection explores four crucial members of the Basket Case team of Latvian descent: Ievins, associate producer/effects artist Ugis Nigals, casting director/actress Ilze Balodis, and Belial performer Kika Nigals. What’s in the Basket? is a 78-minute documentary produced by Severin Films in 2012 covering the Basket Case franchise with cast and crew.
Three short films are featured: Basket Case 3½, an 8-minute mockumentary from 2017 in which Henenlotter interviews "Duane Bradley" (VanHentenryck) about the events of Basket Case; Slash of the Knife, Henenlotter's 1976 short film that ultimately lead him to make Basket Case, with optional commentary by Henenlotter and playwright Mike Bencivenga and outtakes; and Belial’s Dream, a 2017 stop-motion animated short by Robert Morgan (who just made his feature debut with Stopmotion), accompanied by its own brief making-of featurette.
Other extras include: the MoMA's 2017 restoration premiere introduction and Q&A with Henenlotter, VanHentenryck, Bonner, the Schultz twins, and Ugis Nigals; The Frisson of Fission, a video essay by film historian Travis Crawford exploring the history of conjoined twins and "freaks" in cinema; a 2011 filming location tour with Henenlotter and rapper R.A. The Rugged Man (who co-wrote Bad Biology) explore the filming locations; outtakes; five image galleries (promotional stills, behind the scenes, ephemera, advertisements, home video releases); three trailers; a TV spot; and two radio spots.
Henenlotter didn't set out to make a cult film — in fact, he didn't think anyone would ever see his feature debut — but that's what he accomplished with Basket Case. Shot on location in New York City, the picture doubles as a time capsule of a seedy version of Times Square that no longer exists; one littered with drug dealers, sex workers, and porno theaters. While the sequels would lean more into the comedy, the original film balanced its camp with well-placed shocks.
Basket Case will be released on 4K Ultra HD on April 30 via Arrow Video.
#basket case#frank henenlotter#horror#80s horror#1980s horror#arrow video#review#article#dvd#gift#joe bob briggs#sara deck#80s movies#1980s movies#exploitation
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