glenn rhee .. and ur taking a lil stroll,, and pda ,,
glenn rhee x reader
~200 words
you and glenn don’t really walk anywhere anymore.
it’s more like… drifting. slow steps. pauses every few feet. glenn stopping to point something out like it’s still the old world,,
“look, d’you think that used to be a bakery?”
and you pretend to consider it seriously because you like the way his face lights up when he imagines normal things.
his hand finds yours automatically. no hesitation. fingers lacing like muscle memory.
glenn is big on quiet pda. nothing flashy. just small things that say mine without needing words.
his thumb brushing over your knuckles.
leaning in a little too close when you stop walking.
his shoulder bumping yours like it’s an accident (it’s not).
when you sit on a curb to rest, he drops down beside you and presses a quick kiss to your temple like it’s the most natural thing in the world. like there isn’t a whole apocalypse happening.
“you okay?” he asks, soft. always soft with you.
you nod, and before you can even answer properly, he’s smiling,, this relieved, boyish smile like the world still makes sense as long as you’re right there.
sometimes he pulls you in by the belt loop or the sleeve of your jacket. sometimes you steal a kiss first and he laughs into it, cheeks warm, pretending he didn’t love it.
glenn rhee is the kind of guy who holds your hand in public like it’s a promise.
Summary: During a storm drenched midnight run to retrieve a forgotten marriage license. What starts as a tense road trip quickly turns into something more. Daryl Dixon x Beth Greene (aged up), AU no zombie outbreak.
Warnings: Teen And Up Audiences
Word Count: 12,766
The mountain air was crisp and cool, carrying the sharp scent of pine, damp earth, and the promise of an approaching storm. Beth and her family—not just the Greenes, but all of them: the Grimes, Michonne, Daryl, Carol, and Andrea—had taken over one massive cabin tucked deep in the mountains for Rick and Michonne's wedding weekend.
The whole wedding felt less like a formal event and more like an excuse to drag everyone into the mountains for a weekend away together. That was exactly how Rick and Michonne wanted it—nothing huge, nothing overly fancy. They just wanted a weekend with the people they loved most.
For Beth, the timing couldn't have been more perfect. She was right in the dead center of a brutal spring semester and desperately needed a break from classes, drunk roommates, and stupid college boy drama. Being back with her family was something she'd missed since moving away for college three years ago, and being here felt easy in a way that things rarely did anymore.
Not that she'd exactly been trying to relax these past few months. Beth and Maggie had spent months helping Michonne plan every little detail of the wedding through countless coffee dates and FaceTime calls. Beth was built for this kind of thing. She wanted everything to be perfect, even if Michonne insisted she didn't care. Maggie and Michonne had even made the trip to Atlanta just to go dress shopping. It had been an exhausting day, but it ended with Beth and Maggie crying in the dressing room before Michonne could even say yes to the dress.
Then came the endless debates over invitation fonts, seating charts, and floral arrangements. Somehow, against all odds, everything had finally come together. It was exactly how they'd pictured it.
Now that they were finally here, the stress of planning had semi melted away. The whole week had been a blur of catching up, late-night card games, good food, and laughing until someone's stomach hurt. It was exactly the kind of weekend Beth hadn't realized she'd needed.
It was Friday night, and everyone was spread throughout the cabin in that lazy, comfortable way people only get after spending an entire day together. Country music hummed softly through a speaker somewhere in the living room. Half-finished drinks sat forgotten on tables while boxes of decorations still waited to be unpacked before the rest of the guests arrived for tomorrow's ceremony. Carol and Andrea were in the kitchen finishing the last of the food prep, Hershel and Judith were passed out together on the oversized couch beneath a pile of blankets, while Beth sat at the heavy oak dining table, getting absolutely destroyed in a game of cards by Carl.
“Beth!”
Maggie and Glenn came bursting out of the bedroom that had been converted into the wedding supply headquarters for the weekend.
“BETH!” Maggie repeated, breathless this time. She was clutching a cardboard box overflowing with files, envelopes, receipts, and carefully handwritten place cards that were dangerously close to spilling onto the floor.
Beth barely even looked up from the table, entirely used to Maggie’s wedding drama. She was too focused on trying to make a comeback in her card game against Carl.
“What?” she muttered, throwing down another card.
“Beth, I can’t find the wedding license.”
Beth’s head snapped up. She shot out of her chair so fast her remaining cards scattered across the wood, the lazy, teasing atmosphere evaporating instantly. “What? No, I swear we packed it,” she said, panic spiking in her chest as she reached out and snatched the box right out of her sister's arms.
Beth immediately started flipping through the folders inside. Seating charts. Flower invoices. Guest lists. Table assignments. No wedding license.
Michonne appeared from down the hallway, the banner she’d been trying to hang still clutched in one hand. One look at the sisters and her face tightened.
“Everything okay?” she asked carefully.
“Wedding license,” Beth snapped, not looking up from the colored folders.
Michonne walked over, a line creasing between her brows. “It should be right in there. Rick picked it up from the courthouse; I explicitly told him to put it in the box.”
“Well, it’s not,” Maggie said, her voice climbing an octave.
Beth flipped through the stack one more time before exhaling sharply and shoving the papers back into the box. “I’m gonna find Rick.”
Michonne took the box, sitting down heavily on the couch to start her own frantic search through the disaster of paperwork. “I think he's outside on the deck with Daryl,” she said distractedly, already tossing envelopes aside.
Beth didn’t waste another second. She stormed outside, the chilly mountain air hitting her immediately. Panic was heavy in her chest now. Months of planning. Months of details, schedules, and meticulous organization. One singular piece of paper shouldn't have been able to throw everything this far off track—and yet, here they were.
The large deck overlooked the forest and was where the ceremony would be held tomorrow afternoon. White chairs had already started being set up in neat rows facing the small wooden arch near the tree line. The view was beautiful—the main reason they’d picked this venue in the first place—but Beth didn’t have time to admire it.
Rick and Daryl were halfway through a line of chairs when Beth found them. “Rick,” Beth called out, her voice cutting through the quiet mountain air. “Did you bring the marriage license?”
Rick didn’t even look up at first, too focused on carefully measuring the distance between chairs He just nodded “yup its in the big box will all the papers” Beth let out a loud, heavy sigh of pure frustration—a sound so sharp it earned her a slow, squinted look from Daryl, who was hoisting a stack of three more chairs onto his broad shoulder.
“Well, it’s not in the box,” Beth said, crossing her arms tightly against the damp chill. “Are you absolutely sure you put it there?”
That finally got Rick’s attention he paused, looking up at her with a flicker of genuine concern now. “Yeah. I got it from the county office, drove straight back to the house, and put it right in the box…” He trailed off, his jaw shifting as a memory hit him.
Beth's eyes narrowed. “What is it, Rick?” she pressed sharply, which earned her another irritated glance from Daryl.
“Then I got called into work…” Rick rubbed the back of his neck, his voice dropping. “Well… now that I’m thinkin’ about it, I might’ve left it on my desk.”
Beth let out a dry laugh of disbelief “Rick you kidding… this was your one job”
Daryl finally cut in, his voice dropping into that low, gravelly warning tone, clearly done with her attitude. “Hey. Watch it, Greene. Ain’t your weddin’.”Rick looked at Daryl, dragging a hand across his face. “No, she’s right. It was literally my one thing. Michonne’s gonna kill me.”
Beth hummed in smug agreement, her arms crossed tightly over her chest.
Daryl tossed another chair into place, barely looking up. “Do you even need the thing tomorrow anyway?” He looked over at Rick. “You know… just do the ceremony and shit, and then sign the thing next week or somethin’.”
Rick started to nod, the idea actually starting to sound reasonable. He rubbed his jaw. “You know… he’s right. We could just have the wedding and handle the courthouse next week or somethin’.”
Daryl grunted in agreement while setting another chair into place.
Beth stared at both of them like they had completely lost their minds. “Are you serious?”
Daryl didn’t even look up. “What? It’s a good idea.”
Beth didn't know where he got the nerve to use that tone with her. “Um, no, it’s not. Michonne has spent so much time on this wedding. She will not like the idea of a fake ceremony.”
.
Rick blinked, the fog finally clearing as he realized exactly who he was about to disappoint. All the color seemed to drain from his face. “…Yeah, maybe I should go talk to Michonne.”
“Yeah,” Beth snapped. “You probably should.”
Rick gave a tense nod before quickly heading back toward the cabin. As he passed Beth, he gave her a quick, appreciative pat on the shoulder, dropping his voice to a low murmur.
“Thanks for all you’ve done, really.” He jerked his head subtly toward Daryl. “Don’t listen to him. You’re right. I dropped the ball.”
The second the door clicked shut behind him, a heavy, awkward silence dropped over the deck, save for the wind groaning through the trees below.
Daryl hoisted another stack of chairs with a rough, irritated grunt. Beth glared at his back, completely baffled by his attitude. The entire weekend, he'd been acting bizarrely distant toward her. Sure, she'd been operating in full-on drill sergeant mode, barking orders and making sure everything was ready for tomorrow but so had Maggie and Michonne. And yeah, it had been a while since they'd really caught up. But they were supposed to be good friends. He was family.
Instead, he'd barely looked her in the eye. He'd had plenty of energy for everyone else. He'd taken Carl and Judith down to the creek after Carl finally reached his breaking point with decorating, and he'd spent the better part of an hour pestering Carol in the kitchen until she'd smacked him with a dish towel. Beth had tried convincing herself he was only avoiding her so he wouldn't get roped into another wedding task, but after two days of clipped answers and disappearing every time she walked into a room, the excuse was starting to wear thin.
She crossed her arms tighter, narrowing her eyes at his back as though she could burn a hole straight through his flannel by sheer force of will.
Unfortunately, the longer she stared, the harder it became to ignore the sheer physicality of him. God, he was strong. The sleeves of his shirt were shoved up to his elbows, muscles flexing under tattooed skin as he carried the chairs across the deck like they weighed nothing. Normally, Beth would've appreciated the view a whole lot more. Right now, it just fueled her irritation.
She walked over toward him, her frustration taking the lead. “It’s gonna rain tonight,” she said sharply. “So unless you feel like towel-drying eighty chairs tomorrow morning, I’d suggest you put them away.”
Daryl went rigid. A flash of pure irritation crossed his face, mostly because she was dead right. He’d smelled the heavy humidity in the pines hours ago; the sky was practically screaming a downpour. Still, being corrected by her rubbed him entirely the wrong way.
He didn't lower the chairs. He just stood there, towering over her, his voice dropping into a low, defensive gravel. “Ain’t even rainin’ yet.”
“The wind shifted ten minutes ago, Daryl you know it.,” Beth argued, locking her arms tightly over her chest—as much to shield herself from the mountain chill as from the sudden, aggravating heat radiating off him. “Why are you being so difficult about this?”
“Ain’t bein’ difficult. Just don’t need you bossin’ me around like—”
“Whatever,” she snapped, the irritation that had been building inside her all weekend finally exploding. “Maybe if you looked like you actually cared about being here, I wouldn't have to worry. But by all means, freeze your hands off drying them in the morning. See if I care.”
Beth rolled her eyes hard enough it almost hurt. She turned on her heel and stormed back toward the safety of the cabin, her cheeks burning hot. Behind her, she heard Daryl let out a harsh, irritated growl and mutter something dark under his breath, followed immediately by the loud, aggressive scrape of metal and wood as he finally started dragging the chairs toward shelter.
The heavy glass door clicked shut behind Beth as she stepped back into the warmth of the cabin, only to walk straight into the fallout. The scene unfolding inside was nothing like the warm domestic bliss it had been just minutes ago; now, it looked more like a courtroom.
Rick stood near the hearth, his hands raised in a placating gesture, desperately trying to explain his way out of the doghouse. Standing opposite him was Michonne, her arms crossed tightly over her chest, giving him a look that could probably kill a man on impact.
Carol had completely abandoned her post in the kitchen and was sitting on the couch with the giant file box in her lap, calmly sorting through papers while expertly tuning out the shouting around her. Andrea sat beside her holding a stack of folders, looking deeply entertained by the whole thing. Hershel was already halfway toward the back porch, holding Judith and suddenly taking a deep, intense interest in the nighttime weather. Carl was right behind him, sliding backward out of the kitchen with a half-eaten roll in his hand, keeping his eyes locked onto the floorboards to avoid drawing any crossfire.
“I mean, what’s the harm of not having it right now?” Rick tried carefully, his voice cautious as he tested the waters.“We do the ceremony tomorrow, we have the party, and we just handle the courthouse paperwork on Monday. It’s a piece of paper, Michonne. It doesn’t change how I feel about you.”
Michonne’s eyebrows shot up, her arms tightening even further against her ribs. “Oh, so now it’s just a piece of paper? Who told you that? Did Daryl tell you that?”
Rick blinked, his jaw shifting as he tried to maintain a straight face. “Nobody told me anything. I’m a grown man, I can have independent thoughts.” Right on cue, Andrea let out a sharp laugh she’d been trying to hold in. Rick shot her a brief, warning look before plowing ahead. “All I’m just saying is it's a formality,” Rick argued, “The actual wedding is about us and the family. The government doesn't need to be there tomorrow afternoon.”
“The government doesn't need to be here, Rick, but the marriage license does,” Michonne snapped, her voice deadpan and dangerous. “Because without it, tomorrow is just an incredibly expensive dress rehearsal in the woods.”
She stopped, exhaling a long, frustrated breath. When she spoke again, the legal frustration faded, replaced by a quiet, fierce vulnerability that cut right through his defense. “We did not spend thousands of dollars just to throw a party,” she shot back. “I want to be married to you, Rick.”
Her voice softened at the end, losing its sharp edge, but the underlying weight remained. Rick visibly deflated, retreating instantly from the argument.
Right on cue, Glenn emerged from the makeshift storage room, looking entirely apologetic. “Sorry, guys,” he said, raising his hands defensively. “I can’t find it anywhere. I think we really did leave it behind.”
A collective groan rippled through the room. Rick sighed heavily, shifting into cop mode to scramble for another solution. “Alright, look. We can just have someone swing by the house and bring it up tomorrow morning. We could ask Tyreese, or Abraham, or—”
Michonne cut him off with a look. She’d already calculated the logistics, because she was Michonne. “And who has a house key, ?” she asked flatly.
Rick opened his mouth to answer. Then he closed it.
Years in law enforcement had made him notoriously paranoid about home security. Every single person trusted with a spare key was currently trapped in this cabin with him, and there was absolutely zero chance Rick Grimes was the kind of man to leave a key hidden under a flowerpot.
Glenn broke the sudden, awkward silence, offering himself up as tribute. “I can just run down and grab it tonight.”
“Nah.”
Everyone turned toward the doorway. Daryl had apparently slipped back inside during the commotion so quietly that nobody had even noticed. He leaned against the doorframe with his arms crossed, his damp hair curling slightly from the mist outside and his flannel sleeves shoved up his forearms. He looked annoyingly good for someone volunteering for a three-hour round trip in the middle of an oncoming storm.
"Your car ain't gonna make it back up here if it starts rainin'. Besides, they need you more here," Daryl said, nodding toward Glenn. "I'll take my truck."
Glenn glanced over at Maggie. She gave him a small, approving nod, and he let out a quiet sigh of defeat.
"Yeah... okay."
Rick jumped on the solution immediately. "Yeah, me and Daryl can head down now. We'll be back by midnight."
Michonne looked toward Daryl, the frustration on her face finally softening into concern. "Daryl, it's at least an hour and a half back down the mountain," she said. "Are you sure you're okay doing that? It's already pretty late."
Daryl shrugged one shoulder like it was nothing. "Ain't no problem." He pointed a sharp finger toward Rick. “And you ain’t comin’. You got enough to do here.”
Beth didn't like the idea of anyone driving down the mountain alone this late at night.
And honestly, as much as she trusted Daryl with her life, she didn't exactly trust him to find the marriage certificate.
Sure, he was the first person she'd call if her car started making a weird noise or if she got stranded on the side of the road. But this was different. This was paperwork. Important paperwork. Beth was genuinely concerned he'd come back waving some random electric bill from Rick's desk, convinced he'd saved the day.
"I'll go with him," Beth blurted before she could think better of it.
Every head at the table turned toward her.
Maggie was already shaking her head before Beth had even pushed back her chair. "Beth, absolutely not. It's too late. You're already running on fumes, and we still have a million details to finish before tomorrow—"
“I know,” Beth interrupted, her tone leaving no room for argument. “But nothing else will matter if we don't get this. Daryl’s a fast driver; we’ll be back before you know it.” She snatched her hoodie off the back of the couch, determined to get out before anyone could overthink it.
Maggie exhaled a long, defeated sigh. “Okay, fine. Just… Please drive safely.” She looked past Beth, her eyes narrowing as she shot Daryl a sharp, fiercely protective warning look.
From the threshold, Daryl merely responded with a noncommittal grunt. It was standard Daryl, but for Maggie, it was reassurance enough.
Beth yanked the hoodie over her head and gave her sister a brief, tight squeeze. “Tell Daddy I went with Daryl, okay? See you in a bit.” Before anyone could voice another objection, she spun around and bolted out into the chilly mountain air, desperate to catch up to him before his truck pulled away.
The silence between them settled almost immediately. It was deafening.
The only sound was the rhythmic thud-thud of the windshield wipers pushing away the growing rainstorm, while the headlights carved through the heavy darkness ahead. Beth shifted uncomfortably in her seat, debating if she should even try to strike up a conversation. Things had been so weird with Daryl all weekend, and she just wanted to be able to talk to her friend without him biting her head off. She had so much she’d wanted to tell him about school and her new roommates, She wanted to know about the shop and bike he was renovating and about Dog and she’d been dying for an update on Merle—allegedly he’d been going out with, or at least sleeping with, Andrea, but Beth had been too scared to ask her.
But she knew Daryl liked his quiet. And when he was in a sour mood—as Beth suspected he was now—he wouldn’t be willing to participate in a real conversation. She shifted again, trying to find a comfortable position in the stifling, cramped cab.
Still, after several painfully tense minutes, Beth finally gave in.
“You do actually have Rick’s house key, right?”
Daryl didn’t take his eyes off the road, but his jaw tightened. Without a word, he reached into his pocket, pulled out a heavy ring of keys, and tossed them across the console. They landed hard in Beth’s lap with a sharp, metallic clatter.
Okay. Message received. He was definitely in a foul mood. Beth picked up the keys carefully, her own voice turning sharper now, too. “Sorry. I just wanted to check. I don’t exactly wanna make this trip twice.”
Daryl shot her a quick, sideways glance, his eyes cutting like daggers through the dim amber glow of the dashboard lights. “Ya didn’t even have to come.”
“I know,” Beth shot back, her tone hardening. “I just wanted to make sure we actually got the right paperwork. The way you were talking about it on the deck made me a little skeptical about how hard you’d look...no offense."
Daryl didn't budge. He just stared straight ahead, a stubborn wall of silence. It was beyond frustrating. Beth wanted some sort of reaction out of him; she was entirely sick of him acting like a brick wall. She wanted a hint, a crack—anything to explain why he’d spend the entire week treating her like she wasn’t even there.
With a quiet sigh, she decided to change tactics. She leaned back against the seat and forced some warmth into her voice. "And besides..." she said, "I haven't talked to you all weekend. I thought maybe we could catch up." She let the silence settle for a moment before trying again.
"How's Merle?"
"I don't know, ask him tomorrow," Daryl snapped, his voice sharp.
Beth blinked, slightly shocked. She was throwing him every lifeline possible, and he was still acting like a total jerk.
"Okay, fine, I'll talk to him tomorrow." She let out a long, irritated exhale. "Sorry for trying to start a conversation."
"Ain't always gotta talk, you know," Daryl muttered, casting a squinty-eyed glance her way.
"Yeah, I know, Daryl. But we are supposed to be friends," Beth argued, her frustration peaking. "That’s what friends do when they haven't seen each other for three months. They talk. They catch up. And you have been avoiding me all weekend, so I thought I’d give it a shot… my bad."
"Ain't avoiding you," Daryl growled, his grip tightening on the wheel. "Avoiding getting bossed around by some college girl who thinks she’s the boss of everyone."
Beth was completely taken aback by the condescending tone. The words stung. She had worked incredibly hard planning this wedding, sacrificing hours of her own time and energy for Michonne. Meanwhile, Daryl just showed up, played buddies with Rick, set up a few rows of chairs, and everyone hyped him up for being the best man.
The irritation flared right back up. "Excuse me? I have spent hours—"
"Ain't mean you gotta be a bitch," Daryl snapped, cutting her off.
Beth let out a gasp, the sound catching in her throat. Daryl was a lot of things, but he wasn't one to call a woman a bitch. For Merle, that word was an essential part of his everyday vocabulary, but it was absolutely a line Daryl never crossed with her.
"I'm not being a bitch," she said, her voice trembling just enough to betray her frustration, though she refused to back down. "I'm trying to make sure this wedding actually happens. Rick and Michonne deserve that. So if you wanna call me a bitch then fine i'm the bitch who cares about shit one one else will care about”
For a moment, neither of them said anything. The rain tapped steadily against the windshield, filling the silence between them. Beth stared out the window, jaw tight, trying to swallow down the anger and hurt burning in her chest. She just wanted her friend.
Her voice softened slightly, the frustration giving way to something much more vulnerable. "Did I do something?"
Daryl's eyes stayed fixed on the dark, rain-slicked road ahead.
"What?"
You've been helping everyone else all weekend," she continued. "You've been watching the kids, helping Maggie, helping Michonne—who, by the way, are just as 'bossy' as me when they need something from you." A humorless laugh escaped her. "But every time I walk into a room, you just shut down."
She turned toward him, searching his profile.
"Why?"
Daryl's knuckles turned stark white around the steering wheel, but his eyes stayed locked on the dark, rain-slicked road ahead.
"Ain't freezing nobody out."
"Yes, you are." Her voice rose, the hurt she'd been trying to ignore finally breaking through. "Don't lie to me, Daryl."
He didn't answer.
"You have had time for everyone," she pushed. "Carl, Judith, Rick, Michonne, Carol—literally everyone but me. And I'm not asking for much. I just want to talk to my friend, but you can barely even look at me."
Her voice softened, the anger giving way to something more vulnerable.
"Did I do something?"
"Ain't done nothin'," Daryl muttered. "Just not in the mood to get my head torn off by you."
The comment landed harder than he probably intended.
Beth stared at him for a moment, hurt flashing across her face before she quickly buried it beneath something colder.
"You know what?" she said quietly. "Fine. Don't answer me." She let out a sharp, bitter laugh, turning back toward the window.
"But don't you dare sit there and act like my dedication to this wedding is some kind of character flaw of mine thats making you act this way. You've been in a foul mood since Wednesday” She shook her head.
"God forbid people actually commit to each other, right?"
Daryl’s jaw clenched so hard the muscle leaped under his skin, but he kept his mouth shut. Beth noticed the tension and pushed even further, desperately begging for a reaction.
"Oh is that why you've been such a nightmare about this whole weekend?" Beth pressed, crossing her arms tightly over her chest. "Because seeing two people actually show up for each other makes you uncomfortable? You don't think it'll last, do you? You think it's a total waste of time. You’re just a complete non-believer when it comes to love. You look at Rick and Michonne and you think it’s a joke, because you honestly don't believe a happy ending exists for anyone. You’ve never actually seen it work out, huh? I mean, your imagination is so broken that if you ever somehow managed to find someone, you wouldn't even know what to do with them. You'd probably just get married in some dirty barn, celebrate with warm beer, and honeymoon in your hunting cabin because you can't even fathom anything better than that."
"No, I'm actually not," Beth snapped. "I used to wonder why you didn't have anyone. A wife, a girlfriend, anything. Why you treat the entire concept of a relationship like a personal insult. You know we all talked about it. We thought maybe it was just because you're more 'rugged'—but no, I didn't believe that. Girls are actually into that, you know. Hell, even T-Dog thought you were gay."
That finally warranted a sharp, lethal glare from him. Seeing the crack in his armor, Beth let out a small, tight grin, but her face hardened again instantly.
"But no, I didn't believe that either. I get it now. You use this angry, silent-loner act as a shield because you are terrified of actually trying. You blame it on your job, or your bike, or just being weird and antisocial, but we both know what it really is. You’re just using your shitty childhood as a permanent excuse to be miserable."
The words cut through the cramped cab of the truck, sharp and relentless.
"Your mom and dad were in no way happy—they were both pieces of shit. Then Merle ran off, so you decided a long time ago that nobody is allowed to love you, because it hurts too much when they leave. So go ahead, Daryl. Throw your tantrum, call me names, freeze me out if that's what it takes. But don't mess this up for Rick and Michonne just because you're too much of a pussy to analyze your own fucked-up past."
You don't know what the hell you're talking about," Daryl growled, his voice breaking slightly under the weight of a sudden, dark fury.
"Yes, I do. As much as you would like to forget, I know you."
"Just a dumb girl," he spat, turning his head to glare at her, a dangerous look flooding his face. "Don’t know nothin' about my family. Nothin' about how it was growin' up. You couldn't understand it if you tried. Grew up with perfect parents, reading your dumb romance stories, watching movies... you don't know how the world actually works, girl. You know what? That’s your damn problem. You ain't nothing but a delusional little girl."
"I'm twenty-three!"
"Ain't matter your age, you're still delusional," Daryl shot back, his voice rising, venomous. "Think every boyfriend is 'the one,' huh? Just won't give it up. It’s the same damn story with you, Beth. You bring home some new hotshot who isn't good enough for you, you're all over him, talking about him like he’s your fucking knight in shining armor, and then the next time you're around, it's a whole new one."
"That's not fair," Beth said, her voice suddenly sounding small, defeated. "I'm not delusional. I just... I know when someone isn't the one. Sometimes it just takes a while."
"So you just give up on 'em, huh? Is that it? You're gonna talk about people leaving, but you're doing the same damn thing. Use 'em and lose 'em. Use 'em for what you want—a little plaything, something hot to make you feel special until you lose interest." He let out a mean, breathless laugh as a bitter memory surfaced. "Or even better yet, they leave you. Your knight in shining armor walking right out the door because he got sick of waiting around for you to finally put out and open your legs."
Beth’s jaw dropped, the sheer vulgarity of it hitting her like a physical slap. "What the fuck? You don't get to talk to me like that!"
"Ain't no use in denying it, girl... Maggie’s a loud talker," Daryl sneered, leaning into the ugliness of it now, his eyes flashing dark as he stared straight at the rainy road. "Said you were so uptight the guy practically had to beg for it, and when you finally did, you cried after. No wonder he packed his shit. Fucking a girl who acts like she’s doing you a chore ain't nobody's idea of a good time."
A heavy, suffocating beat passed in the cab. The rain slammed against the windshield, the air inside turning thick, hot, and toxic.
"If you don't get some sense in your head, you're just gonna keep getting hurt," Daryl muttered, his breathing a little heavier now. "Can't keep believing in some fairy tale that ain't ever gonna happen."
Beth caught her breath, tears filling her eyes.
"Fucking prick," she muttered under her breath. "You got no room to talk anyway."Her voice trembled, but the hurt underneath had twisted into something sharp and poisonous. She turned toward him, her eyes locked on the hard line of his jaw as he kept his focus on the rain-slicked road.
"You probably have such a warped, pathetic perspective on sex, Daryl."The words came out quieter at first, almost disbelieving."Just fuck and leave, right? That's your MO. No emotional connection. No actually letting someone in. Because God forbid you're ever brave enough to put yourself out there.""God..." she laughed, but there was nothing amused about it. "I bet you can't even make eye contact."
Daryl's jaw tightened.
“It's just some silent, clumsy fumbling in the dark because you're too terrified to actually look at another human being. Too terrified to let them see you." Her anger faltered for just a second, the truth of what she was really saying breaking through. "You wouldn't get what it's like to actually care about someone..." Her voice cracked, dropping into a fierce, broken whisper. "To have to worry about them. To have something to lose."
She swallowed hard.
"Fuck you."
You don't know a goddamn thing about what I do in the dark," he growled, his voice dropping into a low, gravelly register that shook with a sudden, vicious intensity. "Ain't nothing clumsy about it. I know how to take care of a woman. And I sure as hell know a guy like that college idiot didn't have a clue what to do with you."
He cast one sharp, lethal glance her way, his eyes wide, dark, and completely unraveled, before snapping his gaze back to the road. His chest heaved as he let out a harsh, bitter breath, the words tumbling out rough and unfiltered.
"I bet he didn't even make you finish. Probably got his, rolled over, and left you lying there feeling like shit, and you think that's what sex is, it aint. You deserve better” he muttered, his voice dropping into a fierce, defensive whisper.
An awful, heavy silence crashed down between them, thick with the sudden, suffocating heat of what he’d just admitted. The only sound was the manic slapping of the windshield wipers and the roar of the engine against the storm. Daryl’s throat bobbed hard, his eyes locked dead ahead on the asphalt as a dark flush crept up his neck. He was losing his grip, and he knew it. Desperate to pull the mask back down and claw his way out of the hole he’d just dug, he forced his voice back into a rough, dismissive sneer
"Ain't gotta be mad just 'cause I'm right," he shot back quickly, though his voice was completely wrecked, rough around the edges as he tried to redirect the blow.
"No, Daryl," Beth breathed, her own voice barely a whisper, her heart hammering so violently against her ribs she could feel it in her teeth. T She turned away, pressing her trembling hands into her lap and staring out her passenger window. "You ain't right."
"Yeah? Well, keep telling yourself that," Daryl snapped, his tone defensive and tight as he stared blindly into the rain. "Just sit there and keep acting like you got it all figured out."
"I will," she choked out, slamming her shoulder against the passenger door, pressing herself as far away from him as the cramped truck allowed.
Neither of them said a word. Neither of them even moved, frozen in their respective corners of the cab. At some point, Beth reached out and switched on the radio, but they weren't actually listening. The music was just background noise to the frantic, spinning thoughts inside their own heads.
Daryl finally pulled into Rick’s driveway, the rain was still pounding violently against the roof of the cab. He grunted, killed the engine, and got out without throwing so much as a glance in Beth’s direction. He moved quickly to the porch, shivering under the downpour as he frantically dug through his pockets for the spare key. Before he could find it, Beth appeared right behind him, her blonde hair already soaking wet and clinging to her face. Without a word, she silently held out the key to him. Daryl took it, unlocked the door, and they slipped inside the quiet house.
Beth immediately headed upstairs toward Rick’s office, somehow losing Daryl along the way.
Fortunately, the marriage license wasn't hard to find at all—it was sitting smack-dab in the middle of Rick’s large desk. "Idiot," Beth mumbled to herself, shaking her head as she carefully slipped the document into a plastic folder
She made her way downstairs, only to find Daryl leaning into the open refrigerator, rummaging through the shelves. Beth couldn't help but roll her eyes.
"I found it," she stated, her voice flat.
Daryl grunted, not looking away from the fridge. After finally finding what he wanted, he kicked the door shut and turned around. The raw, heavy tension from the ride over was still vibrating between them, but something had shifted. The initial blinding rage had burned out, leaving behind a hollow, uncomfortable ache. Beth hated this. She hated how mean she had been to someone she deeply cared about. She might have been speaking the truth, but she knew she had stepped over a line. And judging by the tense set of Daryl's shoulders, he knew he had, too.
Daryl cleared his throat, looking at her properly for the first time since their outburst. "Hungry?" he asked, his voice rough but noticeably quieter.
Beth was still riding a fragile wave of emotion, her chest tight and threatening to break. "No..." she whispered, clutching the folder tighter against her chest. "I just want to get back."Daryl grunted, nodding toward the front door.
They walked back out into the downpour and climbed into the truck. Before Daryl even put the keys in the ignition, he reached into the back of the cab, grabbed the cleanest towel he had, and tossed it into her lap.
Beth took the rough fabric, pressing it to her wet head. "Thanks," she murmured softly.
The next forty-five minutes back toward the base of the mountain were still deadly quiet. The silence was broken only by a few brief comments from Beth, who let Daryl know how grateful Michonne was after texting her that the license was safe and on its way back. Beth turned the radio back on, quietly humming along to the melody just to fill the space. Surprisingly, Daryl didn't even make a snide comment about it. He just drove.
Beth wanted more than anything to get to her room, lock the door, and cry. She was counting down the minutes until they were back when the truck started to slow down.
“Fuck” Daryl mumbled under his breath.
The truck's headlights illuminated a massive dark shape blocking the asphalt. A huge pine tree had snapped, falling right in the middle of the only road leading up to the mountain
Daryl slammed the truck into park. "Stay here," he muttered to Beth, throwing his door open and hopping out into the dark to get a closer look.
Panic flared in Beth’s chest. If this road was blocked, they were stuck—and so was every other wedding guest driving up tomorrow morning. Ignoring his order, Beth popped her door open and ran out into the storm, soaked to the skin in a matter of seconds.
"What can we do?" she yelled over the roaring wind and rain, squinting as she reached his side.
Daryl glared at her, water streaming down his face, his eyes flashing with irritation. "Told ya to stay in the car!"
Beth stepped right into his path, the freezing rain pelting her face, refusing to let him ignore her. "What can we do about it, Daryl?!"
Without a word, Daryl shoved past her, his heavy boots splashing through the mud as he started walking back to the truck. Beth turned on her heel and ran after him, desperate for an answer, her voice straining over the sound of the storm.
"Ain't nothing we can do tonight," he called out over his shoulder, his voice rough. "A crew's gonna have to come take care of it in the morning."
"What?" Beth stopped in her tracks, staring at his retreating back in utter disbelief.
Daryl paused by the driver's side door, wiping a hand across his face to clear the water from his eyes. "Ain't nobody gonna send out guys in this weather, Beth. We're gonna have to wait."
The sheer weight of the last few hours finally crashed down on her all at once. The freezing cold seeping into her bones, the exhaustion, the toxic, vile words she had hurled at him in the cab, the irritation at Rick for forgetting the license in the first place, and the sheer, unfair timing of this stupid tree—it was too much. Her defenses completely shattered, and she began to cry.
She followed him back into the truck, pulling the door shut against the howling wind. As she settled back into the worn leather seat, silent tears started streaming down her face, mixing with the rain tracking down her cheeks.
Daryl climbed in, turning the key in the ignition. The engine rumbled back to life, throwing a faint, warm glow over the dashboard. “Saw a motel a little ways back," he said quietly, his eyes fixed firmly on the dark windshield.
Okay."
Beth swallowed hard, forcing the words out.
"Yeah... we can do that."
Her voice cracked on the last word, thick and trembling with everything she was trying not to let spill over. And that was what finally made Daryl look at her.In the dim glow of the dashboard, he could barely tell where the rain ended and her tears began. He stared at her for a long moment, his expression shifting as something in him finally broke through the wall he'd been hiding behind.
She looked exhausted. Daryl's jaw tightened, his eyes flickering away from her and back to the road as if he didn't know what to do with what he was seeing.
“Sorry.” was all he could manage. His hands tightened around the steering wheel before he finally shifted the truck into reverse. The tires rolled slowly against the wet pavement as he turned them around on the narrow road. Beth kept her eyes locked on the window, the single word echoing in her ears. She didn't know what exactly he was apologizing for—for making her cry, for the cruel things he’d said about her sex life, or just for the fact that he couldn't single-handedly move a massive tree out of their way. She didn't know, and honestly, she didn't care to analyze it right now; she was just glad to hear it.
It was ten minutes back to the edge of town. The motel sat on the shoulder of the dark two-lane highway, a flickering neon sign buzzing against the downpour. Beth’s face felt tight, the tears finally stopping but leaving sticky, cold tracks down her cheeks.
Daryl rolled the truck up to the front office, the wipers scraping hard against the glass.
"I'll run get gas and park if you wanna get us rooms," he muttered, keeping his eyes on the steering wheel.
"Yeah, sure," Beth nodded, her voice small. She wanted a hot shower and a locked door, and she wanted them immediately.
She hopped out into the cold rain as Daryl cut the wheel toward the single, rusted fuel pump at the corner of the lot.
Pushing open the heavy office door, a dull, rusted little bell gave a weak ding. Warm, stagnant air hit her like a wall—thick with thirty years of stale cigarette smoke, damp carpet mildew, and old beer. The overhead fluorescent bulbs hummed and flickered, casting a sickly greenish glow over the grimy tile floor. Rainwater dripped from the ends of Beth’s wet curls, soaking through her hoodie until it stuck to her skin. She was painfully aware of how small and exposed she felt, her mascara probably smeared across her cheeks from crying in the truck.
A tall, skinny clerk in his mid-twenties shambled out from a back room, rubbing sleep from his eyes. The second his gaze landed on her, he stopped. His eyes drifted from her wet hair, down her damp sweatshirt, and stayed there.
"Well," he drawled, a slow, greasy smirk spreading across his face as he leaned both elbows heavily on the counter. "How can I help you tonight, sweetheart?"
Beth ignored the way his eyes slithered over her and walked forward, keeping her shoulders straight. "I need two rooms. Or if you have one with two beds, that works too."
The guy didn't move. He just tilted his head, his eyes dragging up and down her body in a way that made her skin crawl. "Just you?"
Beth shifted her weight, crossing her arms. "No."
The man's eyes flicked past her, tracking the rain-streaked window toward the lot. Out by the pump, Daryl’s truck sat idling on the phone with someone. The clerk’s smirk widened into a knowing, ugly grin.
"Boyfriend out in the car?"
Beth hesitated. Correcting him felt like an invitation for more questions, and she was too exhausted to care. "We just need beds. Do you have a vacancy or not?"
The guy let out a soft, mocking chuckle, clearly amused by her sharp tone. He leaned even further across the counter, dropping his voice. "Let me guess... you two got into one hell of a fight tonight, didn't you?"
Beth's entire body went rigid.
The clerk’s eyes dropped to her cheeks, scanning the faint, tear-stained streaks under the fluorescent light. "Yeah. He got you all worked up. Look at ya." He shook his head, a mean little glint in his eye. "You know, it’s always those loud, angry redneck types that don't know the first thing about treating a pretty girl right. Don't know how to make you purr. Only know how to push the fight buttons."
“Can we just get the rooms?" Beth snapped, her voice trembling with disgust.
Instead of reaching for a key, the guy just grinned wider, his eyes narrowing in a disgusting, suggestive way. "He messed up so bad you're gonna punish him? Gonna lock yourself in your own room all night and leave him sitting alone all worked up, thinking about that pretty little pussy of yours?”
He let out a low, breathless laugh. "Good girl. Let him stew."
"Do you have a vacancy or not?" Beth demanded, her face twisting in pure revulsion.
“Alright calm down baby let me check. The man glanced down at an open log book “Only got one room left . Full bed," he shrugged, looking entirely unbothered. "Whole place is packed out. High school track kids here for a meet tomorrow."
Beth closed her eyes for a split second, a heavy, defeated sigh slipping through her teeth. "Fine. We’ll take it."
The guy didn't move to ring her up. He just leaned closer, his eyes raking over her face. "Hold on now, sweetheart. You still got options tonight.
Beth already hated the predatory weight in his voice.
"If you really want to piss off that asshole out there... keep that hot little piece of ass to yourself," he whispered, a vile smirk splitting his face. "I got a private room right in the back. I could show you how a real man treats a girl like you. Make you scream so fucking loud he’ll hear it all the way across the parking lot. Get him real crazy and desperate for it."
"You have to be joking," Beth said flatly, stepping back.
The guy just laughed, treating her disgust like she was playing hard to get. He reached across the counter, his voice dropping into a dirty, intimate whisper. "C'mon, baby. I've seen girls like you before. You get with some rough, angry piece of shit because it feels exciting for five minutes, and the next thing you know, he’s screaming at you in parking lots and making you cry. Isn't that right? Come with me tonight I'll show you a real good time."
"We just need the room key," Beth said, her jaw clenching so hard it ached.
But the guy wouldn't stop. He was leaning so far over the desk she could smell the sour tobacco on his breath. "Let me guess... he’s the jealous type, too, right? Tell you what, babe. We can make him regret what he did in a big way. Let him watch me stretch you out, get him real fucking mad. What do you say?"
Beth stared at him, genuinely stunned by the sheer filth coming out of his mouth. "You're disgusting," she spat, her voice shaking with rage. "Give us the key. I'm tired, I just want to sleep please."
The guy laughed under his breath, his eyes dragging slowly down her chest, lingering aggressively. "Oh I bet you are. Honestly, sweetheart, if a girl that looked like you was sharing my bed every night, I wouldn't be letting you get much sleep either. I'd have you under me all night long, bending you over, rubbing all over... Christ, what I would give to get my hands on those tits—"
The door slammed open with a deafening crack. The sound echoed through the grimy room so sharply that Beth jumped. Daryl stepped over the threshold, dripping wet from the rain, his shoulders completely blocking out the darkness of the doorway behind him.
His eyes instantly locked onto Beth, taking in the pale, pleading look on her face in less than a second. Then his gaze slowly shifted toward the clerk.
Daryl walked toward the counter, his boots thudding against the floor with every step. He stopped right beside Beth, close enough that their arms brushed. He planted himself there.
Beth crossed her arms tightly over her chest, trying to hold onto whatever composure she had left. "He had a room," she said, her voice trembling but sharp. "He's being an asshole and won't give me the key."
The clerk forced a nervous, high-pitched chuckle, lifting his hands defensively. "Hey now, man, relax. We were just talking. Your girlfriend’s hot. I was just giving her a compliment."
Daryl went completely still. Beth could actually feel the temperature drop beside her. The air in the room turned instantly suffocating. But the motel clerk kept talking, completely blind to the fact that he was walking right over a cliff.
"I mean, hell, can you blame me?" the guy smirked, trying to regain his confidence as he glanced toward Beth again. "Girl walks in looking like that, all upset... figured maybe she wanted a man who actually knew what to do with her."
Daryl took one slow step closer to the counter, "You’re gonna hand over that room key." He said, his voice dropping into a quiet, gravelly register that made the hairs on Beth's arms stand straight up.
"Then you’re gonna keep your eyes to yourself and your fucking mouth shut for the rest of the night. If ya wanna wake up tomorrow with all your teeth."
The clerk swallowed hard, the color draining from his face instantly. "Alright, man. Damn."
He slid it across the tile, completely unable to look either of them in the eye anymore.
Daryl snatched the key off the counter with a swift, aggressive motion. He turned toward Beth, his large, calloused hand landing automatically against her lower back, his palm heavy and warm as he guided her firmly out the door and back into the storm.
Beth walked into the room. Her clothes were heavy and clinging to her skin from the sprint through the parking lot she rubbed her arms shivering as the damp chill of the room settled. "Mind if I shower first?" she asked.
Daryl grunted in the affirmative, staring down at the floorboards. He cleared his throat, his eyes scanning the sparse room before landing back on her. "Gonna go get some toothbrushes from the perv up front. Lock the door behind me."
"Ok," Beth nodded.
Daryl headed out the door again, the heavy wood clicking shut behind him. Beth immediately walked over and turned the deadbolt, the sharp click echoing in the quiet room. She walked over to the ancient wall heater, cranking the dial until it groaned to life, rattling violently as it began to pump out a dry, mechanical heat.
Shivering Beth began stripping off her soaking clothing. Dragging over the two wooden chairs in the corner over to the header carefully lining them up she hung her clothes across the back of them hoping it would do the trick while she was in the shower. Grabbing one of the thin, scratchy white towels from the rack, she hopped into the bathroom and stepped into the shower. The hot water was a sudden, heavenly relief, washing away the physical chill of the storm and the disgusting comments from the clerk but it couldn't reach down deep enough to wash away the argument from earlier. At some point over the roar of the water, she heard the heavy thud of the motel door opening and closing. Daryl was back.
Realization hit her as she got out of the shower that all her clothing including her underwear and bra were out in full display for Daryl Dixon to see she reluctantly flushed at the thought. She cracked the bathroom door Daryl was sitting in the armchair, a couple of cheap toothbrushes tossed on the bed. “Daryl close your eyes!”
Daryl looked up toward the ceiling and grunted in an affirmative before Beth sprinted across the carpet to grab her clothing off the chair. “Ok your good” is all she could squeak out as a bright blush chased her cheeks after she retreated into the bathroom.
Beth examined her clothing; her jeans and sweatshirt were still totally soaked. She slipped on her dry underwear and her mostly dry shirt she was wearing under her sweatshirt. She studded herself in the mirror trying to pull the shirt down lower. Giving up on modesty beth poked her head out the bathroom door, keeping her body hidden.
“Daryl?”
“Ya” He responded, his voice muffled from the corner of the room. He didn't look up, intentionally keeping his eyes locked onto his boots to give her privacy.
"Is it ok if I don't wear pants? They're still soaked."
There was a brief, heavy pause. Daryl swallowed hard, his shoulders tightening. "Do what you gotta do," he muttered roughly.
Beth gathered her clothing and made her way out of the small bathroom she felt incredibly small and exposed partially more than usual after their augment earlier. Walking over to the heater she carefully rearranged her clothing. Daryl was already clothing the bathroom door behind him a second later the heavy hiss of the shower filled the room.
Beth slipped onto one side of the bed, pulling her legs up before settling down. She grabbed her phone, hoping for anything to distract her from the night she'd had.
The second the screen lit up, she was met with a barrage of texts from Maggie and Michonne.
She called maggie
“Hello? Beth, are you okay?” Maggie’s voice answered instantly, the background noise of the wedding cabin humming through the line.
Beth sighed, rubbing her forehead. “Yeah. We’re okay.”
“Are you guys on your way up? Are the roads safe? It's freezing here.”
“No, we’re not on our way,” Beth said, trying to keep her voice steady. “A massive pine fell right across the middle of the road. It completely blocked us in.”
“What? Are you serious?” Maggie groaned, and Beth could hear her shifting the phone to her other ear. “Is someone coming to clear it? All the other guests–”
“Maggie, it’s fine. I think Daryl called someone. I’ll ask him for specifics when he gets out of the shower.”
The line went quiet for a second. The background noise on Maggie's end suddenly faded, like she had just stepped into a hallway. “Shower?” Her tone instantly shifted, a familiar, playful edge creeping in. “Where exactly are you guys?”
Beth's jaw tightened. She was still raw from Daryl's comments, and she was absolutely not in the mood for her sister's matchmaking games. “There’s a goddamn tree in the road, Maggie. We found a motel.”
“Oh,” Maggie purred. “And you guys are sharing a room…”
“A bed. We have to share a bed. There was only one left.”
Maggie let out a loud squeal, giggling like a high schooler. “Beth, you are joking! Okay, let me get this straight. You're at some roadside motel? Alone… with one bed… and Daryl?”
"Maggie, don't. Please," Beth pleaded, wrapping her free arm tightly around herself. She felt a massive headache brewing behind her eyes.
"What? I’m just saying! Everyone has been placing bets on when you two would finally admit you've been staring at each other for a year. Glenn thinks Daryl's too chicken to make a move, but I told him—"
"Maggie, stop! We got into a fight," Beth interrupted, her voice cracking sharply. “A really, really bad one.”
The giggling on the other end died instantly. The silence lasted for a heavy beat. "What do you mean a fight? Over what?"
“It was just stupid,” Beth stammered, pulling her knees up to her chest on the creaking mattress. Tears were already threatening to rise again. “I was stressed about the marriage license, and I was already in a bad mood, and so was he. We started arguing, and he was being such an asshole, Maggie.”
“Well im sure he was just in a bad mood nobody would want to make that drive–”
“No, I didn’t just let it go,” Beth whispered, a tear finally slipping down her cheek. “I wanted this wedding to be perfect for Michonne and Rick. For everyone. And I got so mad. I went off on him, Maggie. I told him he’s just too scared to tell anyone how he feels, and that’s why he’s always going to be alone.”
Maggie drew in a sharp breath through the receiver. “Oh, Beth…”
“I talked about her parents.. I know you shouldn't have”
“Bethany.” Maggie’s voice took on a firm, older-sister weight. “You didn't.”
“I did,” Beth sobbed quietly, pressing her forehead against her knees. “I had no right. It wasn’t my place. I was just so angry, and I wanted to hurt him because he was hurting me.”
“Hey, look at me—well, listen to me,” Maggie corrected gently. “It’s okay. You guys were cooped up in a car, stressed out. I’m sure he’ll get over it. You two will work through it.”
“I don’t know if we will,” Beth muttered.
"He started talking about how I always leave boyfriends, or how they get bored of me.” She paused, her grip tightening on the phone. This was the part that was making her blood boil. “Maggie… have you been talking to Daryl about my sex life?”
“What?! No! Why the hell would that have even come up?”
“I don't know, Maggie, but he explicitly told me that you said it.”
“What? Beth, I swear to you, I would never do that,” Maggie insisted, her voice full of genuine confusion. But then, she suddenly trailed off. The line went dead silent for three long seconds. “Oh… oh no.”
Beth sat up straighter. “What?”
“Okay, well… I got pretty tipsy last night,” Maggie squeaked, sounding incredibly guilty. “And I was talking to Glenn in our room. I might have been… kind of loud. And Daryl’s room was right next door. Oh god, Bethy, I’m so sorry. I didn't mean to—”
Beth let out a long, exhausted sigh. Of course. It was a relief to know Maggie hadn't intentionally betrayed her, but it didn't change the damage done.
“Ok its fine I don't want to worry about that right now but we are going to talk about what exactly you said later. When this wedding is over. This conversation isn’t done.”
“Name the time and place, I am so, so sorry,” Maggie pleaded. Then, her tone turned a bit protective, a bit hesitant. “But… what did Daryl even say to you? How did he use that against you?”
“He was being brutal. He said my boyfriends don't stick around because I don't, and I quote, ‘spread 'em.’”
“Eww! What the fuck?” Maggie gasped, her disgust completely overriding her guilt. “Why would he say something that disgusting to you?”
“Because he wanted to hurt me back,” Beth whispered. She gripped the motel sheet with her free hand, her voice cracking completely as the final, agonizing truth finally settled into her chest. “He said I’m delusional for waiting for the right person. That I just burn through guys because they get bored of waiting.”
“Bethy, don’t listen to him, he’s just—”
“No, Maggie, listen to me,” Beth sobbed, the tears pouring freely now as she stared at the worn carpet. “I think I was really mad… because he was right.”
“Beth you can work–”
The shower suddenly stops.
“I gotta go to text you with road updates. Love you bye.” Beth interprets whipping away tears
“Oh ok bye, love you too”
Beth hangs up the phone as the bathroom door opens. Daryl tentatively steps out into the room wearing nothing but his boxers.
Beth froze and a small shock ran through her. It wasn't that she had never seen him like this before. Camping trips in close quarters, the times when the Grimes pulled out their water slide, swimming at a watering hole—there had been moments where she'd caught glimpses of him.
But this was different.Daryl usually always had a shirt or a tank top on. And on the rare occasions his scars were exposed, he would shrink into himself, keeping his back firmly pressed against a wall or turned away from everyone.
Not tonight.Daryl walked over to the heater, quietly and methodically draping his damp clothes near hers to dry.
Beth stared. She knew she was doing it, and she knew he could feel her watching. This was the first time she had really looked at the violent, jagged scars stretched across his back. A heavy wave of grief and anger rolled through her chest. Anger that anyone could do that to a child. Let alone their own child. It made her sick.
She lay there silently, just watching him. Daryl finally moved to the cramped armchair, lowering himself into it and shifting around, trying to find a position "Get some rest, Greene. We gotta be up early tomorrow."
Beth stared at him.She didn't fully process what he was doing until he dropped his head back and closed his eyes.
"Um... are you going to sleep there?" Daryl hummed and nodded.
"Oh. I thought that—"
"Ain't no problem."
"Daryl, we can share the bed. It's really no big deal." Her voice softened. "You're the best man. You need to sleep, and it's freezing in here. I'm really fine with it. No need to be a martyr."
Daryl looked up, finally making eye contact with her."Greene."
"Daryl, I'm not joking." She shook her head. "This isn't some trick. You need sleep."
His eyes narrowed slightly. "You sure?"
"Yes, Daryl. Please. You won't sleep a wink on that thing."
Daryl grunted, pushing himself out of the chair and walking toward the side of the bed where Beth was settled.
"Move over." Beth blinked. A quick spark of irritation flared.
"What? No. No way. I just got this side all warm—"
"Just move over."
She stared at him.Then she started laughing, the pure absurdity of the situation finally breaking through. "Daryl, what is going on? Is this some weird complex you have about—"
"Move over, Beth."His voice was firm now.
"I'm sure that perv up front has a master key. Just move."
"Oh."The fight instantly left her face. "Sorry, I—"
"Don't."
Beth looked up at him.
"Don't apologize," Daryl said quietly. "Ain't your fault."
Beth didn't know what to say.Daryl sat on the edge of the bed for a long minute, staring ahead. Eventually, Beth climbed out of bed. "I'm gonna go brush my teeth."
In the bathroom, she stared at herself in the mirror, her mind racing. Should she talk to him?
Should she apologize? Should she tell him she didn't mean what she said? By the time she finally stepped back into the bedroom, the lights were still on. Daryl was already under the covers, facing the door. Beth reached over and turned off the light, plunging the room into darkness. Then she carefully slipped into the bed beside him.
Beth lay on her side, facing his back, studying the faint silhouette of his scars in the low light filtering through the window grime. Fresh tears of regret pricked her eyes. She should have never brought up his childhood. She knew exactly how deep those wounds went, and she brought it up anyway because she wanted to hit him where it hurt.
Finally, the silence became too heavy to breathe.
“Daryl?”
A faint, low grunt was his only reply. He hadn't moved an inch, but she could tell by the rhythm of his breathing that he was wide awake.
She swallowed hard, the lump in her throat aching. “I’m sorry. For what I said in the car.”
Daryl didn’t move. The heater gave a loud rattle, filling the gap between them.
“I had no right to talk about your dad,” Beth whispered, her voice trembling. “Or how you grew up. It was cruel, Daryl. I was just so angry because you were shutting down and dismissing everything, and I… I wanted to hurt you. But you didn't deserve that. People didn't leave because of you, it’s because…” She choked back a small sob. “Because the people in your life were broken. Not you. I am so, so sorry.”
The silence stretched out for so long she thought he might actually let the night pass without answering. But then, she felt the mattress shift.
Daryl slowly rolled onto his back, staring blankly up at the dark ceiling. His chest rose and fell in a heavy, ragged breath.
“Wasn't right,” he muttered, his voice lower and rougher than usual. “What I said to you.”
Beth stayed still, watching his profile in the shadows.
“I ain't…” Daryl swallowed hard, his jaw tight. He cleared his throat, looking thoroughly miserable. “I ain’t that kind of man, Beth. Talkin' about you like that. Talkin' about your… your business. It was disgusting. I heard Maggie through the wall the night before, and it got under my skin, and I just… you aint a girl. I know that.”
He turned his head slightly toward her, though he didn't quite meet her eyes in the dark.
“You ain’t delusional for waitin' for the right thing,” he said, the words coming out slow, deliberate, and fiercely honest. “And any guy who got bored of waitin' for you is a goddamn fool. I shouldn't have said it. I’m sorry.”
Hearing him admit it—hearing the genuine shame in his voice—made the last of the anger evaporate from Beth's chest, leaving only a raw, open ache.
“Thank you,” she whispered softly.
They lay there in the quiet for another few minutes, but the air felt lighter now. The poison was out of the room. Beth shifted a little closer, the mattress squeaking softly under her weight.
“Why were you avoiding me, Daryl? Before all this. Before the car.”
“Told ya. Ain't been avoidin' ya.”
“Yes, you absolutely have,” Beth pressed, her voice a gentle, pleading tug. “For weeks. You never answered my calls. Every time I walk into a room, you find an excuse to leave. Please. Just tell me what’s wrong.”
Daryl let out a long, defeated breath, his shoulders tightening. “Just easier that way.”
“What’s easier?”
He grunted, closing his eyes tightly as if he were in actual, physical pain, his hands clenching into fists over the blanket.
“Not talkin' to ya,” he finally confessed.
“Why?” Beth whispered, leaning in just a fraction closer, her heart beginning to hammer against her ribs. “Does it bother you that much to be around me?”
Daryl opened his eyes, finally turning his head to look directly at her in the dim light. “Yeah, it bothers me. Because every time you're around, I start thinkin' stupid shit, Beth.”
Beth blinked, her breath catching in her throat. “Stupid shit like what?”
Daryl let out a rough, self-deprecating scoff, a faint track of heat creeping up his neck. He looked away again, staring at the wall. “Thinkin' about how you look at me. Thinkin' maybe… maybe a girl like you could actually look at a piece of trash like me and see somethin' worth keepin'.” He shook his head, his voice dropping to a raw whisper. “Spending half my day wonderin' what it’d be like to hold your hand. Like a goddamn schoolgirl, Beth. I'm a grown man actin' like a complete fool over you, and it’s drivin' me crazy because I know I ain't got no right to feel it.”
The room went completely still. Even the heater seemed to quiet down.
Beth sat up slowly, staring down at him. Her heart was beating so hard she was certain he could hear it. The sheer honesty of his words made a tear slip down her cheek. But she was smiling.
“Daryl,” she said softly.
He didn't look up, his posture rigid as he braced himself for the rejection he was certain was coming. “Just forget I said it. It’s stupid.”
“Look at me,” she pleaded gently.Slowly, hesitantly, Daryl turned his head back toward her. “You are an idiot,” Beth whispered, her voice thick with emotion, a breathy, disbelieving laugh escaping her.
Daryl’s brow furrowed, a flicker of confusion crossing his face. “Yeah, I know—”
“I'm an idiot too,” Beth interrupted, leaning over him, her face lit by the faint light from the window. “Daryl, I’ve been thinking the exact same stupid shit for a whole year.” Daryl froze. His entire body went completely still as the words processed.
His eyes scanned her face, wide and searching, looking for any sign that she was joking. “You… what?”
“I’ve been waiting,” Beth said, the tears pouring freely now, though her smile only widened. “I’ve been waiting for you to notice. I’ve been burning through guys because none of them were you. None of them even came close.”
Daryl stared up at her, a profound, overwhelming wave of relief breaking across his rugged features. The tension in his shoulders finally melted away, and a rare, genuine shadow of a smile touched the corner of his mouth.
“Son of a bitch,” he breathed out, a low, rough laugh of sheer disbelief escaping him.
Before he could say anything else. Beth launched herself forward, scrambling across the mattress and jumping into his arms. Daryl caught her automatically, a sharp huff of air knocked out of his lungs as her weight hit his bare chest. His arms wrapped securely around her waist, lifting her up and squeezing her so tight it practically broke her ribs. Beth buried her face in the crook of his neck, sobbing with a mixture of pure relief and happiness, her hands clutching at his shoulders.
"You—" She sniffled, pulling back just an inch, her face wet with tears but a massive smile splitting her lips. She crashed her mouth against his, cutting herself off, before breaking away just enough to gasp, "—you are such—"
Another hard, frantic press of his lips silenced her, her teeth clicking lightly against his before he let her pull back."—an absolute idiot," she finished breathlessly.
Daryl let out another low, rough chuckle against her mouth, his hands anchoring her hips where she straddled his lap. "Thought you said—" He caught her upper lip, pulling her into a quick, deep press of his mouth. "You were one too."
"I am—" Beth laughed, her voice swallowed up as her mouth melted right back into his.
They were both smiling through it now feeling the curve of each other's lips as they intertwined.
"Daryl, I—" She managed against his mouth, but he nudged his lips against hers again, lazy and relieved, refusing to let her go. She tried again, leaning back just a fraction. "we wasted—"
Daryl leaned up and caught her lips mid-word, capturing the sentence before she could even finish it. "-so much time," she finally murmured against his jaw.
"Mmm." Daryl's hands slid up from her hips to the small of her back, pulling her flush against his bare skin. "Better make up for it."
The playfulness lingered for one more sweet, smiling press of their lips, but then the air in the room suddenly snapped. The humor softened, turning into something thick, heavy, and electric.
Beth groaned softly into his mouth, her eyes fluttering shut as his tongue brushed against hers. The sudden, desperate hunger of the touch sent a violent shiver straight down her spine. He tasted like the rain and the faint hint of peppermint, entirely intoxicating. Daryl’s grip on her waist tightened, his calloused thumbs digging into her skin as he pulled her flush against him. Straddling his lap, Beth felt the sudden, unmistakable shift beneath her. Through the thin fabric of her shirt and his boxers, a heavy, rigid heat bloomed against her thigh
A breathless gasp caught in her throat. The realization of what she was doing to him—of how desperately he wanted her—sent a jolt of pure adrenaline through her veins. Shifting her weight, Beth slowly rolled her hips forward, deliberately grinding down against the hard length of him.
Daryl let out a sharp, ragged growl straight into her mouth, his entire body going rigid. His hands locked onto her hips like vices, holding her still for a fraction of a second as he caught his breath, his eyes snapping open in the dark, completely blown out with desire. She ground against him a third time, smoother now, her hands clenching into the fabric of his boxers at his waist. Daryl let out another choked sound, his hips instinctively rolling up to meet hers for one agonizing, desperate second. The friction was incredible, a blinding heat that had them both panting in the dark.
But just as Beth shifted to do it again, Daryl’s hands tightened on her waist, and with a low, heavy groan, he firmly but gently stopped her movement. He held her still, his forehead dropping against her shoulder as his chest heaved against hers.
"Beth... whoa. Hold on. Stop," he rasped. Every syllable sounded like it was physically tearing its way out of his throat.
Beth blinked, her heart hammering against her ribs, her body humming with a deep, frustrated ache. "Daryl?"
He kept his face buried in her shoulder for a long, quiet moment, just breathing, trying to master his own body. When he finally looked up, his expression was a mix of intense longing and absolute exhaustion. "Look" he muttered, his thumb tracing the curve of her hip. "Tonight... we had a hell of a fight. You're exhausted. I'm exhausted. And if we keep going like this, I ain't gonna let you get a wink of sleep." He swallowed hard, his eyes scanning her face.
"We got the wedding tomorrow. We gotta get up early. Let's just... let's take it slow, okay? Do this right."It clearly pained him to say it—the rigid heat still pressed firmly against her leg proved exactly how much it pained him— He wanted her, but he was looking out for her.
She let out a long, shaky breath "Okay," she whispered, leaning down to press a soft, lingering kiss to his cheek. "You're right."
Slowly, reluctantly, she slid off his lap and settled onto the mattress beside him. Daryl let out a massive, relieved sigh, rolling onto his side and immediately pulling her back against his chest.
He tucked her securely into his front, his large frame shielding her from the drafty motel room. One of his heavy, scarred arms draped over her waist, pulling her hips flush against his, while his other arm slid under her head. He buried his face in the back of her hair, inhaling deeply. Beth smiled in the dark, placing her hand over his on her stomach, intertwining their fingers. The heater gave another loud, violent rattle against the wall.
"We really are so stupid," Beth murmured into the quiet room, a soft giggle escaping her.
Daryl let out a low, sleepy grunt, his grip tightening just a fraction around her waist. "Mm. You're the one who took a year to say somethin'."
"Me!!?!" Beth turned her head slightly, outraged but grinning. "Daryl Dixon, you were the one fleeing the room every time I breathed in your direction!"
"Was strategizing," he mumbled roughly, a rare, genuine chuckle vibrating through his chest against her back. "Shut up and go to sleep, Greene."
"Goodnight, Daryl," she whispered, closing her eyes as the warmth of his body finally chased away the last of the storm.
I am working on a potential second part to this story so let me know if you would want to see that!!
love glenn in s2 so much he literally sucks so bad at everything to do with interacting with others. zero game yet maggie wants him so bad for some reason. accidentally set up a date with her in her dad’s weird barn full of zombies. was told two incredibly important and sensitive secrets and thirty minutes after hearing both he IMMEDIATELY tells someone both of them. he walks into dales trailer and dale is like ‘ok buddy what did you say this time. ok that’s pretty bad do not tell any of the women that.. you’ll get killed for real.’
Could you plz write a sub!glenn rhee x fem reader fic?
Were glenn is like dry humping the readers leg and cums and he feels like really embarrassed but he can’t stop because it feels so good, and the reader is teasing him and low-key making fun of him but not like actually if that makes sense
i’ve had a flow of inspiration babe and i hope you enjoy because i did
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s1! glenn rhee x grimes daughter! reader
(i think this is technically gn reader i don’t think readers genitals are described)
(i know i said i don’t write age gaps… just pretend lori had her when she was like 16 guys idk 😔 - both characters are 18+)
also it’s not specified but the events of this take place in an RV, not just out in the open… thought i’d clarify
cw: (kinda) enemies to lovers, hinted that the reader is taller than him or same height (he’s 5’9 and so am i… i did that purely for me however, it can be ignored so my short queens can still read), dry humping (obvi), cumming in pants, there’s no definite consent but it’s obviously consensual (if that makes sense), shane slander (deserved), reader is like low-key mean… reference to masturbation, he cums twice (so like overstimulation?), they don’t get caught as such but people know what they did after
1826 words
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It was a chilly Friday evening, most people were gathered around the campfire but, you weren’t. You were told by Shane to make dinner for yourself, him, Lori and Carl and this pissed you off relentlessly. Who the fuck did he think he was? Him banging your mum didn’t make him your dad so, why on earth did he think it did? So of course, an argument ensued which ended up with Lori siding with Shane and just telling you to stop making a scene and to just make the dinner. Obviously, it wasn’t a big deal… you just don’t like Shane.
You were so enveloped in anger that you didn’t notice the footsteps approaching you. “Hey…” a voice spoke from behind you, practically making you jump out of your skin. “Jesus, fuck!” you shout, “don’t fucking sneak up on me! What the hell?” You don’t mean to come off so aggressive, you’re just so angry already that this was like pulling a block from an already falling jenga tower.
“Shit… my bad I thought you heard me come in…” he mumbles, eyes widened from the unexpected reaction. You only roll your eyes and turn back around to keep making the nasty pasta salad that Shane wanted. “Um… Can we talk?” he says cautiously, noticing that this probably isn’t the time but, continuing with his point anyway. All you do is grunt, he assumes in agreement as you looked a bit less aggressive than before.
“Why… do you hate me? Did I do something to you that I don’t know? It just seems like you get on with mostly everyone else but not me. Like, what did I do?” he questions you, seemingly genuine. You roll your eyes, “my God, not everything is deep. I don’t hate you, just don’t exactly like you” you mumble, “you just kinda annoy me sometimes.”
“And, you’re annoying me because you won’t give me a proper explanation! Can you just give me a real answer?” he exasperates, raising his tone slightly. “Fine, you want an answer? You’re literally perfect and it’s really fucking annoying. Also, not everybody had to like you all the time. Grow a backbone, man.” you explain.
His eyebrows are furrowed and he wears a confused expression, “wait… what? You think I’m… perfect?”
“I’m glad that’s the only thing you listened to.” You state sarcastically, rolling your eyes at him. “Of course it is! You just said I’m perfect! I thought you hated me!” he reciprocates the same sarcastic tone that you used.
Suddenly, you turn around to him and shove him against the wall and walk over to him menacingly, taking a silent note of his adam’s apple bobbing up and down. “Did you come here just to annoy me?” you raise you eyebrow at him as you tilt your head.
He puts in a fake angry face, trying to badly mask the flustered feeling that’s creeping up inside of him. “Maybe I did” he smirks, basking in the attention you’re giving him right now.
See, the thing is, he’s had a crush on you since he’d first seen you at the beginning of the apocalypse. It’d been a few months now and his feelings had just been getting stronger and stronger. It was so obvious. I mean, you pretended to be oblivious because the more people you loved, the more people you had to lose. It was the best for both of you. You tried so desperately to try and make him dislike you because the truth is, you’d begun to get feelings for the man too but, his feelings were relentless and nothing seemed to work.
“Yeah, I knew you fucking did. What else do you do but annoy me? Huh?” you start to raise your voice, adjacent to the heat raising within you. “You don’t know me as much as you think you do.” he grumbles, looking at the floor to avoid your piercing gaze. “Don’t underestimate me.” you bark bluntly, “I know a lot about you, more than I need to.”
He glances up at you in confusion and fear. Did you… know? “Like what?” he questions suspiciously. You slam your foot against the wall in between his legs, placing your thigh awfully close to his groin, he sure hopes you don’t notice his-
“I can read you like a book, Glenn. You’re a people pleaser, even though you pretend you’re not. You like to pretend that you know more than you do because it makes you feel better about your wasted potential. Oh, and you’re hard as a rock right now” his eyes widen at the last sentence. It had left your mouth so casually, making him question every experience he’d had with you over the last few months. Had you known this whole time? What had you seen? Had you seen him touching himself? Heard him moan your name under his breath? He shakes the thoughts out of his head, of course you hadn’t, you’d of brought it up by now, made fun of him, teased him mercilessly. After all, you hated him… right?
“I’m not a people pleaser!” his grumbles out, “a-and… I’m not hard!” he continues, sounding less and less convinced as he carries on the sentence. “Come on, you do whatever people tell you to do! Oh and-“ you cut yourself off before taking your leg that was placed between his and pulling yourself so that you’re closer to him, your thigh now pressed against his attentive crotch. “Not hard, huh?” You push your thigh against him, creating a grinding motion.
“S-shit…” he groans out, his head falling into the wall behind him. He scrunches his face, as if bracing himself, before lifting his head back up, “I… I don’t do everything I’m told! Shut… ugh- up” he grunts out in between weak mewls. You grab his face by the cheeks, your nails digging into him and you were sure there’d be little crescents etched into his skin once you let go. You pull his face towards you, going nose to nose with the man that you were looming over, “do me a favour, Glenn. Stop talking and do what you’re told, okay?” you sneer at him as he looks up at you, his expression conveying anger but his eyes twinkled with lust.
His heart pounding in his chest, he could feel your warm breath on his lips, the lips that he so desperately wanted to lock onto yours. He feels dizzy from the dull stimulation your thigh was giving him. It simultaneously felt like too much and not enough and it made the poor boy feel his knees weaken. He nods his head, acknowledging that your question was rhetorical but deciding to answer anyway, “okay… I’ll do what you tell me to” he whispers out, silently cussing at himself for how easily he gave in but also, how easily his pride was bruised.
You chuckle at how quickly you seemed to have wrecked the man, scoffing under your breath “don’t do what you’re told, my ass.” All he could do is look down to the ground, ashamed at the links of moans that he was producing from the increased pressure that you were putting on him.
Finally kissing the man, you hear his muffled whimpers; his desperate hands clawing at your shoulders, trying to stabilise himself as he feels his orgasm approaching. You stop moving your thigh, hoping he’ll take the initiative to keep going and, he does. His head falls back as he ruts against you needily.
You take advantage of his exposed neck, kissing and nipping down it until you find the spot that makes him moan especially loud, giving that spot special attention - licking, kissing, biting. You can tell he’s enjoying himself from the erotic noises he was making. As much as you loved to hear it, the walls of the RV were thin and your little brother was outside. You placed your hand over his mouth and your other hand on his hip, supporting his movements.
“You’re so hot” you mumble in his ear, “keep going for me, cum in your pants, pretty boy.” The mixture of your commanding tone and the adrenaline he was feeling at the risk of being heard/ caught tips him over the edge. He cusses under his breath, body shaking and spasming under your touch.
He looks up at you, eyes half closed as if he was tired. Still breathing heavily, he leans his forehead on your shoulder to stabilise himself.
You chuckle at his fucked out state before realising something. He was still humping you, you look up at him with your eyebrow raised, feeling a wave of surprise course through you. His eyes are glossed over, starting to feel the effects of overstimulation. “Jesus, pretty boy, still horny?” you tease. “C-can’t stop, feels too good” he whines out, sending a pool of heat to your lower regions.
“Shit shit shit shit- ah.. ah” he starts to whine loudly from his extreme sensitivity. You place your hand over his mouth as you hear him release high pitched moans that people could DEFINITELY hear outside. He starts shaking and you can tell that he’s quickly approaching his 2nd orgasm, coming to the finish line much quicker than he did last time.
He shivers as he feels the pleasure rush through him, as if it was coursing through his veins, his legs become weak and his knees give in. He falls to his knees on the floor and rests his forehead by your knee. You take his face in your hands as you bend down to him, “shit, are you okay?” you worry that you’ve pushed him too far. “How did you do that? It’s like I was under a spell… I didn’t know I could feel that good…” he looks up at you with half lidded eyes and you see that light tears decorate the inner corners of his eyes. You swipe them away with your thumbs and whisper to him, “told you I can read you like a book, darlin’. You believe me now?” you smirk at him as he nods weakly.
You stand up once more, helping him stand up too as he regains his strength. “Would you like to stay for dinner? It’s almost done and you’re here anyway…” you offer and he smiles at you, “that’d be nice.”
He stands up to help you serve up the food before looking down, noticing that he has a large wet patch on his pants, “I may need to change these though…” he murmured, mildly embarrassed of his actions.
You couldn’t help but chuckle when you looked down before nodding over to your mum’s bedroom, “take some of Shane’s jeans, he has enough anyway, he won’t notice” you roll your eyes, thinking back to the annoying man that was trying to take your father’s place. He nods and giggles slightly, “anything to piss off Shane!”
