Daryl and Beth (Walking Dead Fanfiction)

Daryl & Beth Oneshot?/Short Story
Walking Dead Fanfiction, set in Season 4

“It's like I said, there are still good people.” Beth smiles.

Did she mean him? He wouldn't call himself good people, but if that's what it took to help her, he supposed he was trying his hardest.

Beth sets the can of food down on the counter, and turns toward Daryl. She doesn't say anything at first, she only comes closer, and rests her head on his chest. He holds her, the warmth of her body against his was a welcome change to walkers grabbing at him. He put his arms around her, and pulls her tight, as close as he'd ever held anyone. Beths arms sneak up around his neck, and she presses her weight against him, her foot's hurting again.

He leans forward and picks up, hoists her on the counter.

“If it hurts just let me know.” He says, finding himself in a fix with her legs gathered at his waist as if she's afraid to let go. Beth is holding on to him, and scoots forward, so that their torsos are held firmly against each other and he has to hold on to her thighs to keep her up on the counter.

“You want to get down now?” He asks, his hand not moving an inch; afraid in a way, that he'll do or say the wrong thing like he always does.

“No, not yet.” She pulls Daryl towards her, and she kisses his cheek. It's soft, and gentle just like her. Beth runs her fingers through his hair, and he just stares into her. He feels his hand start to slide, and he has to press more closely into the curves of her body to keep her from falling. The gears won't turn in his mind, and he can't move. Meeting no opposition, she kisses him again, on the cheek but closer to his lips. Then on the lips.

She's too young, he thinks, but he lets her kiss him. When was the last time someone kissed him? He couldn't remember, he could barely remember his own name.

“Daryl.” She whispered, running fingers over his shoulder's and then the hard muscle of his chest. His heart beat against her hand, and that's all he can focus on when she unbuttons his shirt all the way down and tugs it to the sides. He loves her soft hands touching him, caressing him like she knows he wants to as much as her. Daryl feels a sharp pull in his gut, a feeling he usually fought off on his own when no one was around.

Her hands reach down to his buckle. That stops him.

“Beth, what are you doin'?” He shakes his head, but still holds his ground. He looks into her eyes, and shes calm, very poised although her knees are trembling around him.

“I'm doing what I want.” She smiled. She was so beautiful when she smiled.

He had to try and stop her.

“Don't you want your first time to be special?”

“It will be.” She answers surely.

“So you haven't done anything like this before?”

“Not like this.”

“Not with your boyfriends, nothin'?”

“No. It wasn't like this with them.” She's pulling him closer again, hands going down again. “I care about you a lot Daryl. Just let me show you...” Her whisper fades out.

He didn't have the will power to stop her a second time, the urge was too strong.

“If you're hell bent...” He picks her up abruptly, his groin tight against her thigh. “Then maybe we should find a bed.” He offers, his hands slipping under her behind to support her weight.

“Sounds good.” Beth smiles.

Daryl carries her upstairs, nudging the door open with his boot, he sits Beth on the bed. He goes back to close the door, and braces it with a chair from the desk. Better safe than sorry. But when he turns and sees Beth sitting there waiting, he still isn't sure she won't change her mind.

He sets his cross bow down on the night stand, and takes off his jacket, throws it on the floor along with his shirt. Beth holds her hand out and he takes it, steps up to her with hesitation. She doesn't break eye contact as she reaches for his buckle, but he stops her, grasping her hands in his.

“Slow down.” He tells her, taking her hands and pushing her back on the bed. He engulfs her small frame and crawls on top of her, pinning her down. She's arching her back, making their bodies connect as much as possible. He eases against her, leaning in and pressing his lips against hers. Daryl kisses her softly, opening her mouth with his tongue. He lets her hands free as they kiss, his fingernails grazing her ribs as he pulls up her shirt over her head.

They kiss again, only now her hands are searching his waist, and his hips... He's getting hard, and she's noticing.

“Beth.” He whispers, slowing her pace. “You sure about this?”

“Yes Daryl.” She whispers out of breath, “Please.” She begs, her eyes shine in the dark. “I know you've probably done this a lot, but I'll be good, I promise.”

Daryl shakes his head.

“That's not what I'm worried about Beth. You wanna jump into this, I just don't want you to hate me for it later.” All she does is smile.

“I would never hate you Daryl. No matter what.” She lifts herself up and kisses him again, and it's enough to silence his doubts for now. She runs her hands through his hair, tugging on it while kissing him deeply. “I love you Daryl.” She whispers.

He wanted to question whether it was the loss of her father, or the awkward position they'd been put in that made her feel this way. He doubted her, but her soft skin and warmth made him feel like the villain for questioning her intentions.

“I've never had anyone tell me that and mean it.” He whispered. She makes him feel like anything is possible and it scared the hell out of him. He was hoping she wouldn't break his heart, or die before she could.

Beth tucks a strand of hair behind his ear.

“We have each other now.”

He can't think anymore, he just presses his lips to hers as hard as he can. He's grabbing her before she can say anything else, and pushes his hips against hers. Beth's legs wrap around him slowly, her hands hold on tightly to his muscled arms. Daryl kisses down her neck, pulling her bra strap down with his teeth. She stops moving underneath him, she's watching him kiss her chest and feels him reach around her to unhook her bra. He strips it off slowly, waiting for her to stop him as he pulls it off and tosses it on the bed.

She's being shy, trying to cover herself, so Daryl crushes his chest against her bare breasts. He kisses her hard, harder than they've kissed before. She meets his intensity, and he lets her undo his belt finally, and the button, the zipper...

Daryl wakes up, and he's naked snared under the covers against another naked body. A mess of blonde hair is matted against his cheek. He thinks about getting up to take a piss, but he can't wake Beth up. Instead he kisses her neck and closes his eyes to go back to sleep, until he hears the noises from outside.

To be continued...

The music box

The music box sat on the desk, beckoning. Dust and moths fluttered about in the shadows. I pried open the box, and out she came. A damsel in pastel. Mouth painted red like a whore. I turned the crank with care, and after several seconds a melody emerged. I sat the box back on the desk, and listened. The music continued long after it should have ended, and the notes seemed too haunted for it's stature. Eventually the ballerina stopped moving. The song however, continued to play.  

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Horror House

I started puking up blood. The copper taste never really left my mouth after that day. I keeled by the bathtub, vomiting more and more. She was beside me, standing there menacingly.

I watched, as though an old film, and saw what had happened to her.

There was a dead girl with a heart in her mouth and no eyes, that part of her face was wide with astonishment and torment. She kept trying to scream, but she couldn't. The heart was fatty, like a mass of gross tissue or a tumor trying to escape a tortured soul. Often veins would crawl out of her skin.

She could hear him coming, the ringing, and slow vibrations in the air and objects around her, warning her, but to no avail. There was no help for her soul.

He always used to come into her house and rearrange her possessions, attempting to possess her. Sometimes when she was out of the house and about, she'd come back, and the furniture would be tossed about or just moved dramatically. Then, sometimes when she slept, he would come in and watch her and turn the faucets on, or the television. The little trinkets she had sitting on her shelves, some were mermaids, one was Betty Boop, and he would move them or lay them down, but never break them.

She couldn't stop him. He was otherworldly.

Sometimes, she'd be standing in the kitchen, and static would rise up through her body, she'd loose colors of the spectrum and her mind would fade out to gray. Always, all she would hear was the ringing, and it tingled her bones, tickling them. She could feel the objects moving by themselves. But it was always him. He would allow her no one and nothing.

She would cry, but she cannot.

She would scream, but she cannot.

She would leave... but eventually, she could not. 

The Souls

“We live, as people of all sorts, then we die in all manner of ways, and then our souls leave us; and so the soul travels. Through the air, up through space, past the stars, planets, and other beings. The soul travels such a long way, it cannot be measured. It passes through other parallels and universes, but never becomes distorted. You would think that the soul would become light, or find a body, but truthfully, the soul travels onwards, forever searching. There are no all knowing beings to guide or damn our souls, they just float, and float on. Peace is something that cannot be known to the soul, bodily or by any other means. Our souls are everlasting, and ever wanting things. If we could have found peace by our body or soul alone, we would have found it long before now.

“The souls don't remember anything of their lives, only vague, vague thoughts they cannot decipher; but there are some souls that seem to know where they are going, and stop occasionally. Once they realize that nothing will happen though, they keep going. Sometimes, souls get sad, and stop floating. It doesn't matter how old or young the soul, they all stop sometimes. Still, nothing happens, and they are forced to go on, but to what? This is the final frontier, the blackness, limbo, and no more death awaits. Only time and space are ahead. There is enough room in the ever looming universe for all the souls that any planet could generate, and so it goes on.

“Sometimes the young souls get feisty, they play and twitter about happily, joyfully, enjoying the small companionship of other souls. It is impossible for souls to physically play with or harm each other because they lack bodies, and so there is no reason or want to fight each other, but there is no way to hold hands or hug. It is good that wars do not exist, but nor can love. Souls want very earnestly to find something, anything; an answer, more questions, a way. If any souls have found anything, no other souls would know about it, else they would have all been gone by now. The souls want, and grow impatient. The souls want, find naught and still they want.

“Then, something strange happens...”