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What If?

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What if on a long car trip Beth started fingering herself in the passenger seat of Daryl's truck. And he's all red-faced and turned on but Beth won't let him pull over and fuck her into oblivion.

"Keep drivin' Daryl. We gotta be at the farm by five for dinner."

So he has to watch as she makes herself cum three times in the car, listen to her as she tells him how much she wishes it was his fingers, tongue, cock that was making her come. How much she loved him. Then he has to sit through dinner with an aching erection, boxers saturated with his pre come.

Maybe she rubs his inner thigh during dinner? Tries to calm him as the ache in his cock makes him slightly irritable and quieter than usual. But it just takes him closer to the edge. He can feel his cock twitching. He's riding a knife edge as Hershel chats with Otis about the good corn crops and Maggie debates politics with Shawn. He wants to come so badly but not badly enough that he'd let her stroke him in front of her family. Come where they can all see his jaw flex, hips stutter. Breathe jerky but deep through his nose. He needs to. He needs this so badly.

So badly he's gonna--

What if Beth pulled Daryl out of the room just in time? Not even out of the main house just into the living room. That shares a wall with the dining room.

She pushes him against that wall, presses her lips to his and then slides down. Quickly and quietly unzips his ragged jeans and pulls out his cock. Red and swollen past the point she's ever seen before. One lick is all it takes. He bites the heel of his hand as he comes and comes across her tongue. It hits her jaw and slides down the column of her throat. He can't hear anything outside a wild rush in his ears. His come has painted his perfect girls face and her family is sitting a few feet away. They could get up and enter the living room in five steps. See what he's done to their sister and daughter.

Fuck he doesn't care.

Grips her hair and guides her through cleaning his cock. It almost hurts he's so sensitive. She tucks him back in gently before standing. Come still over her lips and down her neck. He cleans it off with his red rag before tangling his hands in her hair. Chases his taste down her throat with his tongue. He ioves this girl.

Imagine Maggie coming into the room to see Daryl and Beth kissing like the other held the only air in the room. And she's floored because she's only ever seen him kiss her forehead. Never the lips. Never like he can't wait to take her upstairs and sink his cock into her. So she makes a blithe comment about how Daddy is in the next room? Can they wait to have sex until they're alone? Daryl picks up Beth and walks toward the door with a rough "Later Maggie."

The truck peels out and not one person in the kitchen is surprised. Daryl being so on edge, they all figured Beth and Daryl had some disagreement they needed to have out. They needed to have it out alright. Daryl drove just far enough that Beth's screams wouldn't make it back to the house. The barn? Well...the cows would appreciate how well he could mount her.

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What if Daryl and Beth took their turn on watch. Daryl on the cold dirty ground with Beth in his lap (facing him of course) wrapped up in a blanket or poncho. They don't even talk. They just look out at the night from their different vantage points and snuggle a bit. Warm and happy and safe pressed against the other. Maybe one of Daryl's hands makes its way into her back pocket. And maybe she plays with the long hairs at the nape of his neck. Perhaps she kisses his neck once or twice as they keep their watch.

Maybe he squeezes her ass.

Maybe his other hand explores how her spine feels beneath those shirts of hers, and her fingernails scratch down into his hair until he makes adorable little groaning sounds

And she shushes him. Because walkers might be near but their family most definitely is near and they could wake up. Which is exactly what they don’t want right now.

So he breathes them into her neck instead. And now she's the one moaning a bit.

And he's the one shushing her. By squeezing her ass

Of course the next morning Rick will make a comment about how the two of them seem to have the least quiet watch group out of everyone. But for now who cares?

Daryl will just turn red and grump because Glenn and Maggie can startle birds out of their perch when they take watch together. No way they're that loud. (Or so he hopes.)

For now, Beth takes his hand and leads him off to their patch of dirt, right on the edge of the sleeping bodies. She puts him back under the blanket and tells him to be quieter this she slides her hand into the front of his jeans.

He chokes on his tongue as he attempts to nod at her. She stifles a giggle into the palm of her hand - the one that's not currently squeezing his cock. All Daryl can think is how good her warm hands feel and how much he wants more than just her hand on him.

She barely needs to do anything at all. The watch had been enough foreplay for both of them.
Maybe she bites his neck right where it meets his shoulder. Maybe that's enough to have him gripping her side and groaning into her hair. That little perfect zing of pain and pleasure tipping him over, spilling into her palm.

Beth, of course, shushes him, because they're supposed to be quiet, remember?

Imagine Glenn the next morning. More smug than any man with leaves in his hair and a faint drool track on his cheek has a right to be. Asking how Daryl’s night went. Good? Relaxing?

"You know, you get any action?"

The hustle and bustle of everyone else waking up will cut his ribbing short but it’s Glenn. He won’t let it go entirely. Maybe Beth and Daryl drag their heels a bit too long getting ready to leave the camp the next morning until Glenn asks "You guys comin'?" (His payback for the prison guard tower incident.)

They both blush and Beth laughs and whispers to Daryl that she really would like to.
Red faced and just on the wrong side of mortified, Daryl grumbles "Never again with you people around." Beth, knowing better, slides her hand into his back pocket, squeezing his firm ass.

"You sure about that?”

She pulls her hand out of his jeans and starts off in front of him. The sway of her ass, the sun in her hair and the little smirk that curved her lips gives him the answer.


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What if at the prison Daryl helped Beth with tying knots and escaping holds. It was his way of showing Beth survival skills that wasn't outright fighting. Hell he taught her that too but after what happened to Maggie and Glenn at Woodbury, Daryl realized her ability to escape bonds or tie a hostage down were just as important as stabbing someone in the groin.

They work in a small boiler room deep in prison, day in and day out. One hand bound to a pike, both hands behind her back. Bound to her feet. Every day a different way she could be bound.

He needles, pointing out how slow she has been getting free when her hands are tied behind her back.

“C’mon Beth, this is basic shit. Get out of the damn rope!”

Furious, sweaty, wrists rubbed somewhat raw by the old twine, she decides to challenge him. If he thinks he can do so much better, maybe this time she should tie him up as tightly as she can and if he can get out, she owes him a favour and an apology.

“And if I can’t?”

“You gotta kiss me.”

He takes the bet.

She winds the rope as tightly as she can around his wrists, knots it all up good.

“Ok Mr. Dixon. Get yourself outta that.”

But as he starts working away at the bindings she slides herself into his lap. He freezes, about to ask what the hell she thinks she's doing. But her hands are in his hair, threading through the strands. Tugging gently she forcers him to look at her, and he's lost.

She grinds harder against him, seeking out friction some kind of friction, preferably against his cock. Shit she's hot against him and he wants her. Christ does he want her. Blood pounds through his veins so quickly he can feel the throb in his molars. He tries to press his face forward to taste the column of her throat but the grip in his hair tightens. She shakes her head, face suddenly stern. He knows. This is her rodeo.

Slowly, her hands slide out of his hair and down his chest. Stopping to make sure he understood. No moving without her say so. She lifts up as her fingers trace downward into his lap. She unbuckles his belt, pops open the button of his pants then drops the zipper down.

His breath his short and he nearly bucks her off his lap entirely when her hand closes around him. Thumb sliding against the wet head of his cock, playing with the pre come leaking fast from the tip. She bites her lip as she squeezes him. Keeps staring into his eyes. Never looking down at her hand. His face tells her what she needs to know. Shit she works him so sweetly he never wants her to let go. Never wants to cum so this moment becomes his life.

But he does. Of course he does. She’s too goddamn good at that to not have his cum painting her hands and stomach. His struggles desperately against the ties around his wrists but his hands stay firmly tied behind his back.

Beth's lips brush his chin gently as he gasps. Her fingers are still working his cock, sending sharp little flickers of pain and pleasure up his spine.

“Still tied up Daryl?”

He can’t speak. Can’t think. She’s still working him and shit he can only nod helplessly.

She presses close, lips ghosting against his. “Think you owe me a kiss then.”

He nods again. Shit he’ll give her anything she asks. Her hands leave his cock finally, sitting back expectantly. His brain sluggishly flickers back to life.

Kiss her she says. He can do that.

Daryl tilts his body forward, pushing her back with his chest until she’s spread out beneath him, her back pressed against the concrete floor. Goddamn wrists are still bound but he’ll work around that.

He doesn't kiss her mouth. No, he focuses his lips, teeth and tongue on her slender neck like he wanted to before. She moans, but doesn’t stop him. Quite the opposite, in fact. She throws her head to the side, giving him more pale skin to focus his attentions on. When he’s good and satisfied he’s tasted every inch, he slides down to her cloth covered breasts. Licks and bites at her raised nipples. She gasps and laces her fingers into his hair. Holding him there.

He refuses. She’ll like what’s coming next so much more.

Finally he arrives at the hem of her light sundress. He’d scoffed at her choice of attire when she first joined him in their room, but now he wanted to shout his thanks to whatever God that was still listening for Beth's perchance for skirts and dresses. Easier access.

He pulls up the hem with his teeth until her cloth covered pussy is exposed, then sits on his knees to just look at her. Spread out before him. Soaked through her purple cotton panties.

“You still haven’t kissed me yet Daryl.”

His response is a hoarse “Patience girl. M’ getting there.”

And with that he dives down. Latches onto the thin wet fabric. His moan rumbling out without a thought. He wanted to taste her, just her, so badly but the damn cotton is in the way. No way he's stopping to focus on getting his hands free, so this will just have to do.

He kisses, licks, and bites at her fabric covered pussy until her slim shaking fingers pull the fucking fabric away, finally leaving her bare. And god is she glorious. Shining and wet. All for him. He does his best to savour the sweetest treat he's ever received. Tongues her with a relish. Eats her out like he's trying to devour her. Shit his girl is loud. Panting, urging him on. Praising him. The fingers not holding her soaked underwear out of his way have curled back into his hair, anchoring him against her. Beth has long since realized, the path to her heart is directly connected to her pussy and Daryl is eating his way there. Easily.

Her orgasm echoes off walls and down corridors. It's the single most beautiful thing Daryl has ever heard.

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What if Beth wanted a sex toy? The only problem is…she can’t find one. Well, she’s found a few but they’re all stashed in sock drawers or beside tables. Used. And despite the fact that she hopes they were all put away squeaky clean, she can’t bring herself to take one.

So she tells Daryl. Of course she does. Because somehow on the road that long bleak winter, they became good friends. She fills his silences but never takes offence to his grunted responses. Damn near knows what each one means now anyway so it’s just like talking.

Everyone lives on top of each other. God everyone has heard everyone else fucking or taking care of themselves at one point or another. Maggie and Glenn go at it once a night at least.

Over time, Daryl has become more comfortable with the sex talk. His face still takes on a deep red hue, but he doesn't shy away as he would have been in the past. Talking about sex, who is having it and who isn’t, is just another thing to discuss.

So they talk. And maybe Beth has a slight tendency to over share on these talks. She knows he won’t judge her so what’s the harm in not keeping any of this to herself? She's been mentioning her frustration more and more when they sit together or clear fences but she talks the most when they take watch.

“C'mon Daryl. Don't you miss sex at all?”



Okay, so he’s good at listening but not so good at responding. He bites the skin at the side of his thumb, stares out over the dark prison yard from their high tower seat.

“Got my hand. Better than any woman has ever done it.”

What he doesn’t mention is how he has a schedule. Once a week he leaves the prison to hunt. Just past the view of the guard tower sits his favourite tree. He clears the area then lies in between two raised roots, propping himself against the rough bark at the base of the tree. Stares up a the canopy, relaxes into the earthy ground. That's when he lets himself go. Doesn’t think about anyone in particular normally. Just…feels. And fuck, it's a nice feeling. He’s always been happier doing it himself.

“Well my hand is ok and all but I want cock. It’s all about the feeling Daryl.”

He wants to help her out. He really, really wants to help. But Daryl is nowhere near ready to have sex with Beth. Sure, he's started to think about it some times. But it's still in a sort of abstract way. But the last time he lay down, propped against his favourite tree, her face had fluttered into his thoughts. Then her soft hips, so much more feminine than she seems to think. Maybe sex and Beth were becoming less abstract than he was ready to admit to himself.

Even so, Beth wants a cock and he can't give her his. But sure as shit he ain’t letting anyone else there. With her. So what’s a man to do?

He starts scouring the area with her, but the prison is surrounded by nice wholesome one horse towns. Not a Passion Palace or SexMart to be had. No back alley sleazy sex shops specializing in things that buzz and out of date porn. Come to think of it, things that buzz are useless now. The few batteries they find need to power things like flashlights, not fleshlights.

One particular run, Daryl finds Beth considering an uncomfortably correct fleshy piece unearthed from a bedside drawer.

"Hell no Girl. You don't know its clean. Or who had what when they used it."

"I know, I know...but...I haven't cum in nearly a month Daryl. It's awful.”


He goes to find his tree that night. And, what do you know? A giant wind storm the night previous cracked off a branch from his tree. And one smaller offshoot of the thick branch is perfect.

"Beth's cock" his mind spits out before he can really process what the fuck is going on.

Daryl is going to whittle her a fucking cock.

Sitting back in the dirt, he breaks off the piece he likes and starts stripping it of its bark. The inside is pale, fragrant as it becomes exposed. Fuck if he ain’t harder than he's ever been, knowing what he's making. Who it’s for. What she's going to do-

His jeans are down, cock in hand. Three jerks has him spilling over his chest so strongly a bit hits his chin.

It takes four days to finish. The cock. Wood. Shit. Beth's present? He even broke into a mom and pop style hardware store to find sandpaper. No one wants to explain a splinter in that sensitive area. He wants her to get off, not get hurt. The sandpaper adds a whole new dimension to whittling. He’s gotta rub the wood like he would himself, and the whole thing starts feeling so much more personal than he ever imagined but he doesn’t stop. He focuses and finally sands it down to a smooth hard shaft. Not too big, but enough to stretch.

He may have measured against himself once or twice...just to be sure she wasn't getting the monster cock he saw in the back of a titty magazine Merle had left out some years ago. "The All American Challenge." Shit that weren't no challenge. That was a bad day for a slim girl like Beth.

The day he finished was the same day he gave it to her. Didn’t bother waiting until their watch that evening. Just shuffled into her cell, hiding the damn wood in an inner pocket of his leather vest. Amazingly, all his blood rushed up into his face rather than down like it had started to do around her. She smiles up at him from her place on her bunk, eyes shining.

“Now what could Daryl Dixon be so darn embarrassed about that he can’t look me in the eye?”

He can’t talk. Just thrusts the damn wood at her, waiting for her to tell him he’d overstepped. To get out.

Beth’s response?

"Aren't I supposed to be the one giving you wood?”


Now he's so goddamn red he knows he won't be able to leave his cell for two days. Fuck watch, someone else can do that. Can't look her in the eye anymore either. It’s all too damn much.

But Beth is goddamn giggling, taking the wooden thing from his hands. Happier sounding than she’s been in weeks. She closes in, raising up a bit to lightly kiss his cheek and that’s when he slips. He looks over at her just in time to catch her as she slides her fingers up and down the soft wood-

He bolts. Out of her cell, across the narrow walkway and down the stairs. Out cell block C. Blood gone from his face, now all settled in somewhere much more awkward, making running more uncomfortable than he’d ever thought it to be. He only makes it to the showers before it’s all too much. He paints the stall wall while biting the back of his hand viciously.

He gave Beth Greene wood. Fuck.

Chapter Text

What if Beth was a Sales Associate, working at a outdoors store? Daryl, who generally avoids places like these only goes in to get some new bolts every blue moon. He’s obsessively careful with his equipment, but over time, even well cared for things break. So he finally drags his ass into the woodsy store and somehow becomes a repeat customer. You see, every time he goes in, he somehow ends up buying all this other shit because he can't say no to the sweet sales girl. She just bounds on up to him, all sunshine and smiles, brightly asking if she can help him find anything in the store and did he want to hear about the amazing sale on fishing lures?

Sure, he could say what he came in there to buy, buy it, then leave but if he says no to her sales information she might stop talking to him and yeah it's her job but he really likes hearing her talk? So he listens…and buys whatever she’s extremely eager to show him.

Problem is, his small cabin has no space for all the goddamn gear he buys from that goddamn store. He tried to keep it all in his back hall closet but after three weeks of heading into the store every saturday and leaving with bulging bags of crap he never actually needed, the closet now refuses to close. But if he stops going into the store, he won’t see Beth again. Also, he still needs to buy new bolts. In the end he builds a shed out back. One of these days there will be a sale on bolts…

After the third visit she started making light jokes about his regular appearance.

"Forget somethin'?"

And he just mumbles and nods, tries to move toward the back wall where the bolts are but then she starts talking about has he seen the new camo tent? It's off the ground now! Like a cot, but covered! Isn’t it amazing? No more wet gear or sleeping in puddles if it rains! Nothing worse than waking up soaked through with wet gear right?

Somehow he buys the double wide, despite the fact he sleeps on the ground when he hunts. Waking up soaked from a night storm is just part of hunting. Packing a tent is too noisy and bulky. Hell, he never packs a blanket neither. Just his bow, his bolts and his knife on his belt. That’s all a real hunter needs anyway.

The tent goes in the shed. He still doesn't have bolts.


Three months. That’s his breaking point. He's gone in every Saturday for three goddamn months and walked out with no bolts every time. Just another bag full of shit he won't use. Camp lighters and sleeping bags and a fucking quesadilla press for over the camp fire. He's never even had a quesadilla! Can you quesadilla a squirrel???

This time he swears he'll go in, march right up to that distractingly beautiful woman and say "bolts". He's got none left. He needs bolts if he wants to eat. But she's not there. He stands confused in the aisles, searching around for her blond hair and sunny smile. Nothing but camo covered everything and a group of elderly fishermen passionately debating belly boats versus aluminum row boats.

How can she not be there?

He buys bolts and nothing else. Somehow this purchase, the only one he's needed to make, seems wrong. Not all the other shit. Bolts. His fucking bolts. Because Beth isn't there to sell him a grilled cheese warmer or a bottle of camp soap or another cast iron skillet "but this one is fish shaped! Isn't it cute Daryl? Think of all the cornbread this thing would make!”

A month goes by. He doesn't go back to the shop. A cheerful yellow flier in his last bag advertises a home delivery service for any orders made online.

Two months go by. He needs new bolts. He buys online.

One rainy ass day the delivery truck pulls up. And who gets out but goddamn Beth. Holding a clip board and his large package of bolts. Her smile is so bright when he opens the door he could swear the sun was out in full force.

"Well if it ain't my favourite customer!"

He's gone. He accepts the package, signs his name and asks her in for a drink. As it turns out, he's her last delivery.

They finally chat. Really, actually chat. With words coming out of his mouth and everything. She tells him she left the sales floor because she's bad at it.


"No! Really! Everyone in there asks for some other associate. Usually Jimmy. I swear those old fishermen are ruthless! I don't know what the best reel is or how to hunt. I don't shoot a gun or a bow or even a gosh darn BB gun! And they all know it! So they ask for someone else because if I have no idea how to use any of that stuff, how can I sell it to anyone?”

He sits in stunned silence for a moment then motions for her to follow him. He takes her outside and opens the shed. Three sleeping bags tumble out the doors and something heavy shifts in the back causing a resounding clang.

"Girl if you weren't good at your job I wouldn't have all this junk!"

Beth stands there, shocked. "I thought you were returning it."

Now he's confused.


Apparently the day after she worked the sales floor, the cashiers always had big return numbers. Her managers pinpointed her as the reason why and offered her a new position out of respect for her Father. The whole reason she drives the delivery truck now was so they didn’t have to fire her.

"I thought you just impulse bought this stuff and brought it all back the next day!"

"Nah. Built a shed.”

Their first date is a big ass camping trip with all the junk she sold him. Real camping too, at a campground north of Atlanta. His truck is filled to the brim, but they have a plan. They use every item and made a list. Anything they'd never use again would be sold on eBay.
Most of the items end up on the list. Except the quesadilla press. Because, what do you know? Squirrels quesadilla just fine.

Chapter Text

Beth has Daryl take her on a run. Pleads she can't get the stuff for her and she really needs to go. It takes a fair bit of convincing, and two extra servings of spaghetti at dinner but he finally relents.

He can’t say no to her but goddamn he wish he could. Because it turns out, Beth needs some goddamn underwear. Daryl has never been so red as he is breaking the window of a women's unmentionables shop. Flushed and hot in the collar, he’s all ready to take out some walkers to take his mind off his embarrassment. But there's nothing coming at them. Daryl scans the store twice to be sure before helping Beth clear the jagged glass of the smashed window. It’s not much to look at, just old posters of women with unnaturally big breasts and a whole lotta lace. And pink.

He was expecting Beth to grab handfuls of stuff, shove it in a bag and get the fuck out but no. She's. Fucking. Shopping. Picking up little scraps of this or that on different tables. Holding them up to consider them before—Jesus Christ— placing them against her slim hips. 

"Beth! Hurry up! Just grab some shit. If it ain't right some other woman at the prison will wear em!"

She shoots him a less than impressed look before rifling through another bin of stuff.

"Daryl, I need bras too. And I'm sorry, but I'm not just going to grab random underwear. The apocalypse is no place for a thong."

It might just be the two of them in there, but he's becoming more uncomfortable by the second so he tries to speed things up a bit. Disregarding her statement about apocalypse appropriate underwear, he turns to a shelf and begins grabbing handfuls of lace scraps, shoving them into his bag.

He hears her huff somewhere behind him alongside her light boot tread heading in his direction.

"Daryl I told you—oh my god." And then she's laughing. She's trying to stifle it but it still bursts out her nose in a rather adorable snort.

He stops shoving fabric into his bag, turning to look at her. His stomach squirms, loving the sound of her laugh but not so much that she's laughing at him. "What the fuck're you laughing about, Girl?"

"Dary, oh god, Daryl. Did you-" she stops, giggling too hard. It takes her a moment to calm down enough to start again. "Did you even look at what you were grabbin'?"  

His hand, still full of lace clenches just slightly. That squirming feeling brought on by her laughter turned to lead.

Beth reached out, and pulled one of the tiny lace things from his first. Held it in front of his face.

"Daryl, these are crotchless panties."

He practically throws the offending fabric away from him before upending his bag, shaking vigorously to be free of the damn panties.

Beth is doubled over, holding her stomach. A few tears of mirth leaked out to slide down her cheeks. "Oh god I can’t—I can't believe you tried to—oh God. You were gonna give the prison women crotchless panties!"

Once Beth is able to pull herself together, they agree Daryl should wait by the broken window and she would be the one to grab bras and panties (ones that actually HAVE a crotch) and even the few sleep outfits this store seemed to stock.

She's faster now, still giggling but picking up on is sky high discomfort. He can't even look Beth in the eye, the deep blush extending right down his face and neck. He’s a bit hunched in on himself, as if he thought the less of him exposed meant reprieve from the embarrassment of the incident.

They don’t talk on the ride home, but Beth does smile at him. Kisses his cheek when they pull through the gates, whispering a thank you before sliding out of the truck to help unload the haul.

The delivery of new underwear to the prison women brings so much joy it's a wonder they hadn't done it sooner. The men may go commando and not care but the women were a different story.

Beth tells no one, not even Maggie, about the crotchless mishap in the store and as the weeks pass he nearly forgets it...

Until one night, when they're unable to deny themselves any longer, Daryl has Beth pressed against the cool wall of a hallway. Kissing her deeply, fingers tangled in her hair. She's wearing a sundress and all he wants is to get under that skirt. They’d been on more and more runs together, taken watch together and he wants her more than he’s ever wanted anything in his life.

He drags his hands down her sides, then up under the floral material of her skirt before freezing. Because where he should feel fabric he finds...nothing. Beth pulls away from his lips, just enough to whisper "they're crotchless.“

How his body finds spare blood that ain't flowin downward to pool in his ears and cheeks he'll never know. But apparently a blushing turns Beth on, and he has his first experience with the glory that is easy access.

Able to have Beth against the wall, whenever the need strikes, with minimal undressing in public areas? A gift from above. Also, now he knows she won't think badly of him when he gifts her the few he saved from the store incident. Well it's less he saved them and more that he found some that didn't fall out of his bag at the store. He kinda kept them when images of Beth floated across his mind.

One of these days, he really has to get her alone in her cell, strip her down until he can spread her out wearing nothing but those panties.

But for now, he has her against a wall in a quiet corner of the prison, and that’s enough.

Chapter Text

When Merle skipped out on him one too many times, Daryl took a job on a campus bar in Atlanta. One week into the job, and the beginning of the semester, he meets Beth Greene. She’s a second year student who comes in during the slow period to study and drink a Shirley Temple at the bartop. He's a bit grumpy at first. Why the fuck does she come here to get a Shirley Temple. Surely one of the campus coffee shops can make better shit than his half assed Shirley Temple. But she starts telling him about her lectures and even lets him read her notes. It’s an odd sort of friendship, but it works for them. Most days she even stays after she's done studying, just to chat with him. By the time midterms roll around she's having him quiz her every day. Hell if he wanted, he's pretty sure he could pass all the damn classes she’s taking.

She's so focused on passing she asks him to turn off the TVs he's supposed to keep tuned to sports or news for as long as the bar is open. But he figures her grades are more important than who caught a ball or which politician is lying about what, so he shuts it all down.

It doesn’t matter much anyway. The campus had been experiencing decreased numbers in the past weeks so they determined they'd close the bar until the next semester. Maybe college kids are starting to get serious about studies rather than binge drinking? But Daryl isn’t about to let this friendship go. At their last study session before the big midterm exams, (and the shutdown of the bar) Daryl gives Beth his number.

"Call me when you're done, Girl. I wanna know if my study buddy skills paid off.”

She does call. It’s not the triumphant declaration that she crushed it. She's sobbing that she needs his help. She went to her exam but the lecture hall was deserted. She's pretty sure theres no one on campus at all. She was going to leave, but when she left the room, she ran into a professor who attacked her! She fought him off, she swears she did. But Daryl, she ripped off a chunk of the skin on his hand doing it. He didn't feel a thing. He tried to fucking bite her Daryl!

He tells her to run to the bar. They’d just switched to a pin pad system for the security gates. She’s gotta put in the code then snap the gates shut again.

"Hide behind the bar Beth. If there's someone in there, don't go in. Hide in the supply closet next to the doors. Code’s the same. I'm comin’ to get you.”

He finds her behind the bar. Her pale arms already bruising. Daryl grabs the first aid kit and looks her over. It’s not easy, she’s shaking so hard he doesn’t get the best look at her. But as far as he can see there were no bites. No scratches. Just a torn shirt and bruises.

“Daryl, he took my cardigan"

She says it like she’s confused. Looks up at him with glassy eyes and all he wants to do is cradle her in his lap and feed a few drinks to calm her down.


"My professor. He grabbed my cardigan. The blue one you liked. He grabbed it and I almost didn't get away but I didn't button it up today. So he just pulled it off. And I ran.”

He pulls her against him, wrapping her up in his arms.

"I'm so damn glad”

Beth didn’t want to go back to her residence and Daryl was reluctant to leave her alone, so they made their way back to his apartment. Nothing fancy, a basement suite with the top half of the home still un-rented.

She sleeps in his bed that night. Insists he's gotta stay next to her. She's gonna wake up scared and he needs to be there so she knows what's real and what isn’t. Girl nearly got bit by a rabid professor so he obliges.

He wakes up to Beth tucked neatly into his arms. His chest pressed into her back, legs tangled with hers. Her is breath slow and steady. No nightmares yet for either of them.

He doesn't let go.

The power fails shortly after they wake up. (Daryl for the second time). They gorge themselves on cereal and milk. Beth giggles at his taste for sugary kids brands.

“Laugh it up, Girl. But these fruity pebbles and milk might be the last of this kinda thing we get. Might as well enjoy it."

They decide they need to get out of the city. Too many bodies.

“Should we try to go back to my building? Maybe we could take the stuff from my cupboards, and get some clothes?”

She looks so hopeful, but he’s not risking that detour.

“I’m sorry Beth. We can’t. We get out now or we don’t get out at all. You can wear my shit. It’s the best we got.”

To soften his denial, he eases forward to press a gentle kiss to her forehead. If he can sleep using the girl as a teddy bear, he can kiss her. No time for bein’ a coward anymore.

He packs his hunting bag with essentials and some canned goods. Gets his bow and bolts. Beth tries on his smaller fitting clothes and settles on a few flannels and undershirts. They both ignore the underwear issue. They stuff the clothing into Beth’s book bag along with the rest of Daryl’s dried meats supply, and two bottles of water.

Beth steps out the door first but he hesitates on the threshold. This was his first place after parting ways with Merle. His first step in making what he wanted for his own life a priority. Now the world is going to shit in a way he'd never expected.

He feels a stab of guilt mixed with grief. Grief, because the life he gave up so much to reach for, dies when he steps out this door. Guilt because Merle, the bastard, is out there. Simple minded piece of shit is probably too high to realize what’s going on isn’t just a bad trip. But the guilt isn't enough to go looking for Merle. Daryl burned that bridge.

Beth reaches out to take Daryl’s hand and gently guide him through the door. He may be leaving the old life behind but Beth is in his future. He’s certain of that. So he lets her guide him forward, taking a deep breath as he swings the door shut. No point locking it. They’re not coming back.

Their loose destination is "away from the city" but that seemed impossible. His apartment wasn’t exactly the suburbs but it wasn’t urban either. It had never been more complicated to leave. Abandoned cars and bodies turned the outer boroughs of Atlanta into a maze of burning, looting, and death. Daryl repeatedly checked the doors were locked. Beth folded in on herself on the bench seat of his truck, laying her head onto his lap. She needs to face this eventually, but he’ll let her hide for now. Shit, he wishes he could do the same.

He plays with her hair to calm them both and drives.

It takes a full day to get out of the city. They nearly abandon the truck after being stuck in a four hour traffic snarl just before a crucial offramp. It was during this time Beth whispered she had to pee, forcing them to carefully exit the car, like so many others.

He kept her tucked into his side, bow ready as he took her to the side of the road. She blushed dark when he wouldn't let her leave into the decorative shrubs lining the road for privacy. He apologized, but the risk of losing sight of her was too great. She understood. Peed right there in the open. But she brought some tissues so at least she had that luxury. Daryl gave her the crossbow and quickly relieved himself as well.

They made it back to the truck with little incident. A few people tried to talk to them, ask for information but Beth averted her eyes as Daryl hustled them faster toward the vehicle. No one had touched their belongings as everything was locked in the cab. Too many witnesses kept opportunists from breaking the windows. Or maybe the way he held his bow, ready to use it. Either way, their things were safe.

They got stuck in another traffic jam pointed toward greater Atlanta. No getting out of it. Just after midday, people began panicking. Screaming about helicopters and lies about safe zones. Mob mentality took over as people began using their cars as battering rams to get out of the three lane standstill. Daryl waited until the perfect moment to get outta dodge. An old winnebago made it across the the ditch beside them and onto the opposite lanes pavement. Several other smaller cars made the same hairpin turn before Daryl decided to chance it.

And just like that, they were free, speeding away from Atlanta.

"Follow them" Beth urged.

"Nah, Girl. I'm getting you somewhere safe. They have as much an idea of where they’re going as we do.”

But then she's got her hand on his thigh, turned in her seat to plead her case.

”Just for a little while Daryl. Please. Trust me."

Well…when she puts it like that.

They end up in a goddamn old quarry. Cars all parked in some kind of haphazard circle. Beth and Daryl sit quiet in the truck until everyone else emerges. They don’t look like a dangerous bunch, but they do look scared. And fear could turn anyone into a threat.

“We’ll stay the night, but we’re gone by mornin’ Beth.”

He doesn’t mean for his tone to be so sharp but his anxieties were getting the better of him.

Beth leaned forward to press a kiss to the side of his mouth. “Ok.”

Introductions were made hesitantly. Daryl is pretty sure they wouldn't have happened at all unless the cop, Shane, had insisted on it. Everyone went ‘round the circle like they were at some bible camp. When it got to be their turn, Beth spoke up.

"My name’s Beth. This is Daryl."

And in the most uncharacteristic move of PDA, Daryl took her hand and looked the cop straight in the eye. He didn’t want any kind of question as to their relationship.

They sleep in the truck. Some of the others in the group put blankets next to the small fire he made, but Daryl wanted walls between the woods and Beth. He stays awake a long time after Beth dozes off, curled up on the seat with her head on his lap. He and Beth had talked it over. Despite his proclamation that they’d leave by morning, they still had no plan. No solid provisions either.

“Maybe we stay?” She asks. “Just for a few days. You could hunt somethin’ down, and then we could go. I just…I think this could be a good thing.”

“Ok, Girl. We’ll stay a few days until I can hunt somethin’ down.”

Everyone settles into roles quickly. Glenn and a few other men make a run back to an old hunting store they’d seen on the way up the quarry road. The area must’ve prime hunting ground once upon a time. They bring back a few tents, cots and even a number of sleeping bags. Beth claims the widest sleeping bag for them.

"Big enough to share, right?"

He smiles at her, presses a kiss to her forehead. First smile he’s managed since she called him terrified. Felt like a lifetime ago. But she’s holding up a sleeping bag and he’s smiling and there’s a happy feeling in his chest that expands like a balloon.

”We’ll have to get cozy.”

She goes such a lovely shade of pink when she's pleased.

"I'm good with cozy.”

She’s good with a lot more than cozy.

They were given a small two man tent and a cot, alongside the sleeping bag. With the cars pulled in tight and the two man watch established over the night meal, Daryl lets himself be distracted by Beth.

He’d been sitting on the floor in front of their cot, cleaning his bow until her small strong hands started worked away at the tense muscles in his shoulders.

His deep moan of appreciation got her right in the core. She wants to hear that sound as he sinks into her. Wants to hear that sound as he tastes her.

She wants so much.

It doesn't take much for him to twist around, raising up on his knees to kiss her. And it does’t take much more than a few deep kisses before he has her naked under him, one leg hitched high on his hip.

The rest is almost a blur. The rattle of his buckle as he finally focuses enough to get his own pants off. The feel of her gentle fingers skimming over the ruined skin of his back. He freezes at that. Beth soothes his fears with a few well placed kisses against his neck and one gentle nip to a space near his collarbone that she must remember to fully explore later.

They fumble until everything on him is off. Until her heated skin is pressed against his and her wish is granted.

She hears that fantastic moan again.

He tries to push her over before him, then alongside him, but she's just not quite there. He swears loudly as he pulls out. Comes hard across her stomach.

She cradles his head against her neck and shoulder. Loves the feel of his hot breath puffing across her skin. She wasn’t expecting him to try to get her off once he got his, so she makes an almost undignified squeak at the feeling of his fingers plunging into her. Thumb working her clit. His cum still warm across her belly, smeared now by his clumsy hands, his own stomach.

She comes so hard she can't stifle her cries. Lucky for her Daryl was on it. Kissed her sloppily, partly to keep her quiet, partly just to kiss her. Whatever his motivations it works for Beth and she’s left shaking from head to toe.

They redress when they come down. It’s too dangerous to be caught naked, even if the afterglow promises to be spectacular. The sight of Daryl, naked and relaxed, lazily sucking on the fingers that so delightfully worked her is nearly enough for Beth to forsake clothing altogether.

But that isn’t their world anymore. So they get dressed. Daryl cleans off her stomach, kisses her gently then leaves the tent.

"Gotta check the perimeter, Greene.”

"I can come?” She asks, not quite wiling to give him up yet.

He urges her back toward their cot.

“Nah, you're tired. Sleep. Tomorrow you can come with me."

She smirks a little at that, a glint in her eyes. Now Daryl is the one pink in he face, ears burning.

"That too." He kisses her quickly one more time then departs.

The perimeter is quiet. Shane tried to make a comment but Daryl pointed his bow at him.

"You say shit, I put a bolt in your eye.”

Shane looks pissed but says nothing. Daryl is back in bed, pressed tightly against a warm sleeping Beth in under thirty minutes. They sleep the whole night through.

The next day Daryl has Beth start practicing with his bow and knife. He’d left his place with three of them but was now down to two. He gave her the best of the bunch. It goes into the skull easier than the others he has.

(They found out it's gotta be the skull driving out of the city. Watched men shoot at an advancing thing until a bullet shattered the skull. Only then did it stop moving.)

Glenn makes small runs almost daily. Their plan to leave after a good hunt falls away. He might not trust all the people there, but the group did make things easier for now. Daryl takes Beth into the woods to learn tracking.

She’s feeling pretty damn good about herself as she follows a rabbit trail, softly telling him that ”Pretty soon I won't need you for anything but orgasms Daryl.”

He snorts softly.

”That's the plan girl. Now keep on trackin’.”


Things are good for about two weeks. Then Glenn decided to take a big ass group back to the city and return with one more.

Course Daryl and Beth didn’t find out until they made it back to the camp and found the deer Beth tried bringing down being gnawed on by a walker.

Daryl’s mood turns. His girl’s kill is ruined...and the dead are making their way up the mountain now. Beth won't like it but they ain't gettin full naked anymore. One leg out only for her. He'll just drop his pants enough to get in her.

He gives the walker a vicious kick. Poxy bastard.

The new man turns out to be the missing Grimes, presumed dead by his wife, son, and former partner.

Daryl can feel the whole dynamic shift, but he’s not the only one.

"Looks like we got a new sheriff in town Daryl.” Beth whispers over their shared can of beans.

"Yeah. Shane ain't gonna like that."

Beth frowns, setting the can aside. “Lori’s sleepin’ with Shane Daryl.”

He knows what she’s getting at. ”Yeah. Shane ain't gonna like this at all.”

Now they have a decision to make.

Daryl had wanted to get Beth away from these people since they joined the convoy. But Beth has faith in people. She'd formed a tentative friendship with Carol and Sophia. Daryl was watching Ed like a hawk.

The day after Rick made his grand appearance, Ed knocked into Beth’s shoulder, hard, as he made his way to the designated daylight bathroom area.

Daryl immediately had him pressed back into a tree, getting cozy with the bolt end of his bow. Told him if he touched Beth again, even accidentally, the rest of the group would find his stayin-dead body floatin’ in the quarry waters.

Shit was going bad. But Beth and Daryl disagree on what to do. Daryl saw everything between Rick, Shane, and Lori as a timebomb. It was only a matter of time before all the details came out, and when it did, it was going to have casualties. He wants them out before the powderkeg blows. Beth wants to see if it settles.

"We can trust most of these people Daryl. I don’t want to give this up over a possibility it might go wrong.”

"Nah girl. Most ain't good enough, and I promise you, that whole love triangle shit they got goin’ on will go wrong. My only priority is lookin' after you, and I take that very seriously. The rest of them? They got their people. We got ours."

Beth sighs. "Who are our people Daryl."

"Us. You an me. That's all we need Girl." He presses a kiss to her forehead. They both know it's settled.

They'll leave.

The next morning they say their small farewell, pack their shit and drive out of the quarry.

"Where to girl?" The one detail they never settled on. Where to?

"Home I guess?"

The farm. He’d been trying to avoid that. Beth doesn’t doubt her family will be there. She once told him that two hundred years of Greene’s lived on that farm. He sure as hell hoped he wasn’t driving her back to find out she was the last.

They’d been driving back roads for two days when a mass of walkers forced them to flee the car. They’d tried to drive away, but that had been their near fatal mistake. They’d gotten on the main highway only to find an impassable blockade of ravaged cars. With no other option, they run deep into the Georgia woods, until Daryl deems it safe enough to loop back.

It was getting dark, he wanted them back in their truck before night fell completely, but a sound drew them away from their path.

Beth saw her first. Crying and splashing through the Mucky creek.


She wet and scared but so relieved to be wrapped up in Beth’s arms. She sobs out how she got lost. Something about a walker and Rick telling her to stay put but she was so scared and she ran anyway.

Daryl handed Beth his bow before dropping down so Sophia could clamber onto his back. She's in no state to be trekking back to the truck, so he’s gotta piggyback her there. He prays their supply bag, which had been left behind in the panic, was still there. Better yet, Sophia’s mom.

They weren’t that lucky. The road was eerily silent but their truck remained untouched. Without a shuffling hoard to deal with, Daryl was able to manoeuvre over to the "wrong side" of the road, avoiding the large traffic snarl that originally stopped them. Beth spots Dale’s Winnebago. It hadn’t been there when they’d run days earlier. She nearly asked Daryl to stop but when she saw his tense face, she kept quiet.

Instead, Beth focused on Sophia. Poor thing was exhausted and scared out of her mind. Under Beth’s care, she was able to fall asleep for the rest of the drive to Beth’s farm.

At the mailbox, Daryl reached for her hand.

“We’ll find the others tomorrow, Beth. For now, I want walls and a door between you and all the other shit out there.”

Hershel, greets them with a shotgun, a stiff hug and tears. They're so exhausted Beth pleads her room and rest. They'll talk it through but not now. Please, not now.

Beth tucked Sophia in on the couch. The small girl was so exhausted she didn’t wake as Daryl carried her in from the truck. When Beth is sure she is settled in for the night, she leads Daryl up to her old room.

They strip down and sleep naked between the cotton sheets.

Tomorrow. They'll deal with it all tomorrow.


(End Part 1.)

Chapter Text

What if Daryl found the greatest barbecue food truck there ever was. The food is so damn good, with an unexpected Korean twist but it’s the sunny blonde at the window has him going back every day. He has a goddamn app on his phone that lists where every food truck in Atlanta is, just so he can track her down.

He’s Beth’s favourite customer. This gruff man who orders with as few words as possible and eats like he's tasting heaven. Which is funny because the way he eats is sin. Especially when he licks his fingers. Some days he gets a pulled pork bun and the juice will escape down his wrist. Those are good days. In fact the day he followed sauce down his wrist and onto his thick forearm, she moaned softly. Out loud. For real. Her co-owner and brother in law Glenn goes red for her.

It’s become a routine. He rides his motorcycle to their lunch spot, orders the special from Beth, and she spends her fifteen minute break time watching him stand at a little plastic table, eating her food. Wishing he was eating her.

Glenn serves as many people as he can while she's on her Dixon Break. Hell, he made eyes like that at Maggie for six months when he delivered the Greene girls their friday night pizza. Course, he hopes he moaned a little less than Beth does. Glenn doesn’t even want to know what the guy is doing when Beth makes a squeaky sound.

Meanwhile, Daryl is aware the sweet girl in the truck watches him eat his food. Normally that would scare him but kinda feels good in this case. He wants her to know he enjoys eating her…food. And sometimes, yes, he's a messy eater. But he's an enthusiastic eater too. Loves what she gives him each day. And he makes sure he cleans himself up good after enjoying it all.

He's been doing this three weeks when he notices something written on an extra napkin, stuffed into the wrapping of his sandwich. (Asian pulled chicken today, he's stoked, this is his favourite sandwich they make.) He eats his sandwich first, then looks at the napkin. "Her name is Beth. PLEASE call her." This missive is followed by a phone number that must be hers. Beth. Sunshine’s name is Beth.

He’s nervous as hell, but he does call her. Manages to arrange a date too.

They're both awkward laughs and pink cheeks over dinner. She's wearing a yellow dress that makes his mouth dry and his tongue feel thick. He's got these black jeans and a navy blue t-shirt stretched tight across his broad shoulders that makes her glad she's not wearing underwear.

They decide to go for a walk after dinner. Neither one of them is done with this date yet. After some awkward arm swinging, Daryl gets the nerve to hold her hand. It’s small compared to his, and warm, and his stomach is doin' things he's never felt. Also, who gets stiff from hand holding??? Is he that pathetic??

(Nah he ain’t. She's just so damn pretty. Makes his anatomy do things like public as fuck erections.)

It takes three dates for him to kiss her, because he's fucking nervous. She makes him feel like he's going to throw up half the time. But when Daryl finally gets the nerve to bend down that little bit and kiss her, man do things move fast from there. They’re walking through a beautiful quiet section of city park at 11pm and she looks so damn pretty in the moonlight and he's just gotta taste her. A peck. That’s all it was supposed to be. Just a calm, sweet little thing. But he got his lips on hers and then sometime later she's got her hands in his hair and his tongue wrapped around hers.

Not too long after that he's pressing her into a darker section of trees, so he can slide his hands along her smooth thighs and up her skirt. What he feels, or rather, doesn't feel, has him pulling his lips from hers for the first time.

"Holy fuck Beth!”

"Bout time you noticed." She's got this cheeky ass smile on her face and he’s going to die. Right here.

”You been like this all night?!”

"I've been like this since our first date.”

He’s speechless. Mouth is moving but nothing is coming out, while his brain screams “FUCK ME” in every way he knows how. His hands are a bit more with it, however, and squeeze the warm smooth flesh of her perfect peach ass. He’s sure this is heaven. Or hell. Purgatory? Whatever it is, he'll take it.

With a little encouragement from Beth, it doest take long before his fingers are doing something else and he's experiencing those little moans Glenn has been subjected to in the food truck for too goddamn long.

She's wet and hot and perfect. Daryl’s got his head buried against Beth’s neck, sucking away at the skin there. He may leave a mark, but who the fuck cares?? When he feels her body start to clamp down and those moans get a little too loud, he's got just enough brain power left to leave the skin of her neck, and put his tongue back in her mouth. He swallows her cries as she shakes through what feels to him like a pretty damn good orgasm.

When she comes down, Beth swears she has another smaller orgasm watching Daryl clean his fingers like he just ate a sticky asian chicken bun. It all feels so good, her knees give out.

After establishing she’s just fine, Daryl gives her a serious piggyback back to his truck so he can take her home. She tries to get into his pants but he shyly waves her off, saying he's good. It was for her. He doesn't need anything. (He's lying. His dick is throbbing and if his jeans rub any harder against his cock, he's gonna go off in his pants like a teenager.)

By the time he drops her off at her door, he thinks he's got it under control. The throb is more dull and he can focus on more than just sticking his hand down his pants. But then Beth leans over the console and goddamn kisses him like this goodnight is be some month long separation.

He’s ready to come. Needs to come. NEEDS TO. She slips out of his car and he’s an ass for not walking her inside but he can’t. He does watch her go, and when she's safely inside the house, his zipper goes down and he jerks off in his goddamn car right in the goddamn open because he has no self control.

Their subsequent dates all seem to take place at her house. Which is better for both of them. Less chance of getting arrested for having sex in public. Plus, Beth’s place is amazing. She has a very nice bed and couch and kitchen counters at just the right height for fucking. It’s the start of something that he won’t be giving up, ever.

Even so, Daryl Dixon still visits his favourite food truck every day for lunch. Beth’s Dixon Breaks are now spent with him. They make eyes over their food and share a kiss that Glenn swears is getting them more customers.
(“It’s lunch and a show, Maggie!”)

Speaking of shows…todays show is veering toward R-Rated...jesus Beth you better wash your hands when you get back in here if you're gonna stick them down the back of his pants like that…