[fic] Blue Jean Beauty Queen
Title: Blue Jean Beauty Queen
Author: badboy_fangirl
Fandom: The Walking Dead
Characters/Pairings: Daryl POV; Daryl/Beth
Word Count: ~800
Rating/Warnings: R / Post-episode 4x10 "Inmates."
Summary:
Author's notes: Written for the ficathon at jada_jasmine's livejournal, from the prompt: the walking dead, daryl/beth, so pretty, so smart, such a waste of a young heart. Title lifted from Def Leppard's cover of "Rock On."
Disclaimer: There could be some ethical issues with this pairing, but I believe Beth is at least 18 now on the show, and in real life Norman Reedus is 16 years older than Emily Kinney, so in my mind Daryl is in his early 30s, 34 at the oldest. The topic will be addressed as I think it would bothersome of the characters, too. So, yes, this is just the first of several fics, I have a feeling...
In those hours after the prison break, in the few minutes here or there that they find silence, he watches her.
His hair is in his eyes, so she doesn't know. Except for when she's watching him back. He doesn't bother to look away.
In his old life, he might have been one of those guys who sat in his truck and watched pretty girls walk by. He might have hollered out the window, rude words that would attract only the cheap ones, and girls like Beth would have scurried away, a little bit afraid. Beth woulda been the one he wanted, though.
He would never have been entrusted with someone like her, not back then.
He can feel Hershel's hand in a phantom grip on his shoulder, Take care of my girl.
When she starts bawling her head off on the railroad tracks, he wants to wrap her up in his arms. He also wants to yell at her to shut the hell up. Because in some ways he's still that guy sitting in his truck, and in other ways he's just a guy who never knew what to do with any girl at all unless she threw herself on him.
It's that night, after they've found and secured a hollowed out house, that Beth does just that.
At first he thinks she's just looking for the hugs he should have given her earlier, but then her lips get kinda close to his, and he has to jerk his head back. He's grateful for the darkness when he mutters, "Watch it, girl."
She stiffens against him, but doesn't move away. He grits his teeth; he's not the asshole he used to be, but he hasn't had a girl in a long time either. And Beth is...Beth. She's the only thing that's good left in a world gone to hell. He'd die before he'd let anything happen to her, even without Hershel's ghost haunting him. He's not sure if that's the kinda feeling you ought to have for a girl and then ruin it by...
Her hand finds his, pulling it to her chest. The warmth and curve of her in his palm, even through her shirt, causes an immediate reaction in his pants, and he shifts his hips away from her. "Daryl," she whispers. "Please...I want you to."
He shakes his head, but his hand clenches around her softness, groping her repeatedly when he feels the hard point of her nipple. No bras in the fuckin' apocalypse, moron.
"I've wanted you to, for a long time," she confesses on a low breath, and his mind actually spins sideways with a when? but then her mouth is pressing against his and this time, he doesn't move away. She's sweet, and a little bit sloppy, but that suits him just fine.
It's awkward and strange, but Beth isn't a virgin, and he's sort of glad about that. Mostly because she moves her hand between them and helps him figure out how to get her off, but even more so when she slides her fingers around his cock and jacks him off in this way that shows him she's done it before. Or maybe it's just been so long since he did it himself, she seems experienced. Either way, he's panting, and he's got one hand jammed into her hair while the other one wraps around her hand, not because what she's doing doesn't feel fan-fucking-tastic, but because it's going too fast, and he wants it to last just a little longer.
She lays her head against his chest after and says in her quiet, matter-of-fact way, "We couldn't do it the real way, not yet. I don't want a baby."
He barely holds on to the holy shit! that leaps up his throat, because he sure as hell wasn't thinking that, or thinking about preventing that, which just proves he's already let Hershel down, and it's been 36 hours, maybe, since his friend died.
"At least until we find a safe place," she continues, unaware of his panic. "When we find a good place again, we can think about that."
She goes to sleep, her breath steady and even against his throat. He wraps an arm tighter around her, tucking her under his chin, because he knows that's never gonna happen, but he loves her a little bit for thinking it ever could.
She'll come back around to the Beth who doesn't cry over things she can't control, and she'll figure out that hope is a delusion they can't afford even if sometimes they indulge in it.
In the daylight, they pack up their stuff, the things they scavenge from the house, and then she slips her hand into his as they walk down the porch steps.
He has no idea where they're going, but she seems to know. So he lets her lead.
...part two...
Author: badboy_fangirl
Fandom: The Walking Dead
Characters/Pairings: Daryl POV; Daryl/Beth
Word Count: ~800
Rating/Warnings: R / Post-episode 4x10 "Inmates."
Summary:
Author's notes: Written for the ficathon at jada_jasmine's livejournal, from the prompt: the walking dead, daryl/beth, so pretty, so smart, such a waste of a young heart. Title lifted from Def Leppard's cover of "Rock On."
Disclaimer: There could be some ethical issues with this pairing, but I believe Beth is at least 18 now on the show, and in real life Norman Reedus is 16 years older than Emily Kinney, so in my mind Daryl is in his early 30s, 34 at the oldest. The topic will be addressed as I think it would bothersome of the characters, too. So, yes, this is just the first of several fics, I have a feeling...
In those hours after the prison break, in the few minutes here or there that they find silence, he watches her.
His hair is in his eyes, so she doesn't know. Except for when she's watching him back. He doesn't bother to look away.
In his old life, he might have been one of those guys who sat in his truck and watched pretty girls walk by. He might have hollered out the window, rude words that would attract only the cheap ones, and girls like Beth would have scurried away, a little bit afraid. Beth woulda been the one he wanted, though.
He would never have been entrusted with someone like her, not back then.
He can feel Hershel's hand in a phantom grip on his shoulder, Take care of my girl.
When she starts bawling her head off on the railroad tracks, he wants to wrap her up in his arms. He also wants to yell at her to shut the hell up. Because in some ways he's still that guy sitting in his truck, and in other ways he's just a guy who never knew what to do with any girl at all unless she threw herself on him.
It's that night, after they've found and secured a hollowed out house, that Beth does just that.
At first he thinks she's just looking for the hugs he should have given her earlier, but then her lips get kinda close to his, and he has to jerk his head back. He's grateful for the darkness when he mutters, "Watch it, girl."
She stiffens against him, but doesn't move away. He grits his teeth; he's not the asshole he used to be, but he hasn't had a girl in a long time either. And Beth is...Beth. She's the only thing that's good left in a world gone to hell. He'd die before he'd let anything happen to her, even without Hershel's ghost haunting him. He's not sure if that's the kinda feeling you ought to have for a girl and then ruin it by...
Her hand finds his, pulling it to her chest. The warmth and curve of her in his palm, even through her shirt, causes an immediate reaction in his pants, and he shifts his hips away from her. "Daryl," she whispers. "Please...I want you to."
He shakes his head, but his hand clenches around her softness, groping her repeatedly when he feels the hard point of her nipple. No bras in the fuckin' apocalypse, moron.
"I've wanted you to, for a long time," she confesses on a low breath, and his mind actually spins sideways with a when? but then her mouth is pressing against his and this time, he doesn't move away. She's sweet, and a little bit sloppy, but that suits him just fine.
It's awkward and strange, but Beth isn't a virgin, and he's sort of glad about that. Mostly because she moves her hand between them and helps him figure out how to get her off, but even more so when she slides her fingers around his cock and jacks him off in this way that shows him she's done it before. Or maybe it's just been so long since he did it himself, she seems experienced. Either way, he's panting, and he's got one hand jammed into her hair while the other one wraps around her hand, not because what she's doing doesn't feel fan-fucking-tastic, but because it's going too fast, and he wants it to last just a little longer.
She lays her head against his chest after and says in her quiet, matter-of-fact way, "We couldn't do it the real way, not yet. I don't want a baby."
He barely holds on to the holy shit! that leaps up his throat, because he sure as hell wasn't thinking that, or thinking about preventing that, which just proves he's already let Hershel down, and it's been 36 hours, maybe, since his friend died.
"At least until we find a safe place," she continues, unaware of his panic. "When we find a good place again, we can think about that."
She goes to sleep, her breath steady and even against his throat. He wraps an arm tighter around her, tucking her under his chin, because he knows that's never gonna happen, but he loves her a little bit for thinking it ever could.
She'll come back around to the Beth who doesn't cry over things she can't control, and she'll figure out that hope is a delusion they can't afford even if sometimes they indulge in it.
In the daylight, they pack up their stuff, the things they scavenge from the house, and then she slips her hand into his as they walk down the porch steps.
He has no idea where they're going, but she seems to know. So he lets her lead.
...part two...