Disclaimer #1: I do not own any characters from "The Walking Dead." They are the property of Robert Kirkman, Glenn Mazzera and AMC. No money is changing hands in the writing, reading or distribution of this story.

Disclaimer #2: Any similarities to any specific persons, living or dead, is unintended.

Summary: This story is written for Daryl Dixon fans everywhere! This is my first "Walking Dead" fic, and I apologize in advance to avid readers of the comic itself. I've added an OFC to Rick's group and she (Greciapronounced "Gree-Shah") has (for the purposes of this story) been part of Rick's group since the beginning of season 1; I'll weave Grecia in as a solid personality of the group more with flashbacks. I'm playing with the timeline a lot, but this story begins somewhere in Season 2, after Sophia is discovered in Hershel's barn, but long before Shane's death. Rick's group is merging with Hershel's group and the two groups are settling into life at Hershel's farm and in Hershel's house. The tension between Rick/Lori/Shane will carry over into this story, as will the Glenn/Maggie romantic plot and the Daryl/Carol platonic dynamic, but I've changed some other things. This is largely showing the evolution of two separate groups into one, larger, more unified "colony" that is organizing itself into something stronger, self-sufficient and more regimented in a world gone to hell. They'll become more structured and stronger as a whole and really figure out what it takes to get by in a zombie infested world, while facing the challenges of every day survival, the threat of other groups of marauding survivors, and of course "walkers." But at this story's heart will be the tale of how as things change and develop for this new, larger group, things also begin to change and develop between the petrified, formerly famous model and reality TV star, and very reluctant Grecia and an even more reluctant Daryl Dixon. – Rated MATURE for violence and graphic sexual descriptions.

Warning: This chapter contains descriptions of sexual acts.

Badass and Beauty

Chapter 1

"Yessss," Grecia heard the word leave her mouth, both her efforts to keep quiet and the hungry, talented fingers burying themselves deeper and deeper between her legs turning the three simple letters into a hoarse, lustful hiss in the still darkness. She'd never said the word "yes" like that, not ever; not until now, with him.

"Shhhh," she was immediately and gruffly reminded, his big, strong, rough hand that was not busy between her thighs tangling in her long, grown out color, hair and yanking her head back fiercely so he could kiss her neck; his lips, tongue and teeth all known against her perfect white skin. She instantly obeyed, letting it happen, letting him do this to her, fighting not to moan as more of his weight crushed down onto her welcoming form, her thighs being parted, flung wide open like the swinging doors of an old west saloon, and the soft, shameless clang of a belt buckle dangling free of leather as a zipper slowly slid open, tooth by tooth. The rustling sound of fabric and the faint snap of an elastic waistband sent a chill over her and she felt herself squirm eagerly to feel long, hard, throbbing flesh probing her wet, pink folds. Everything in her thrummed and burned, more alive than she'd ever felt before, particularly during a sexual encounter. Gone was the girl so focused on how much she weighed and how fat she looked in certain positions; she didn't dread his hands kneading the buoyant, fake feel of her surgically augmented 32DD's. None of the imperfections, real or imagined, that always brought her to tears as she stood in front of the mirror flooded her mind now. The only skills she possessed in life was knowing how to be alluring and beautiful, it was all she'd ever been taught how to do, but trying so hard made her uptight, insecure and self-conscious, not to mention anorexic, however cliché it was. But she wasn't any of those things now; she had won the attentions of this…this…man that was so…fantastically…male, so wild and dangerous and incredible in ways that none of the other men in her life ever had been or knew how to be. All Grecia could feel was how he wanted her, how he touched her like he might devour her with his rough hands alone, like he couldn't get enough of her, like there were no walkers in the world and the only danger he was in was dying from the want to thrust his big dick deep inside her and fuck her until they were both delirious.

Her eyelids twitched, tempted to steal a glimpse of the desirous form above her, but her hands beat her sight to the exploration of her latest lover, Grecia's ambitious fingers clawing down his strong back, pulling him closer as her own back arched up off of the hard oak boards of Hershel's dining room floor, her hands boldly clutching each chiseled round of male posterior and making her own needs known in a way that surprised her. She was never like this during sex before, she could never relax, she could never be 'in the moment' or be anything more than ignorant and apologetic, she could never want the man that she was with, or even want sex. She was a 'supermodel,' therefore some kind of sex goddess, so sex was therefore expected of her and therefore stressed, and therefore horrible…but now…wow… she was unrepentantly feeling all of this, in every part of her, every touch of rough hands on her smooth skin twisting something dangerous inside of her that threatened to explode, and Grecia wanted it to…ironically, her pictures, her reality TV show, and that Playboy spread she'd been pushed into doing, had made her the catalyst of just about every man's fantasy, but she, herself, had never had an orgasm before…lots of sex, married an Atlanta Brave's Allstar Shortstop and self-confessed 'ladies' man' even, but no orgasms, not one. But that was about to change, so much delicious tension gripping her, strong fingers stirring her ever closer to the surface of bliss, a big, hard cock so close to kissing the place in her she'd been so content to neglect…until now…she wanted this, she wanted to cum…she wanted him to make her body surrender like that…she wanted him.

His mouth left the well worked skin of her neck, the strong, rough hand untangling from her long hair and now braced on the floor beside her head as he supported himself over her. The fingers between her legs ceased their churning, switching places from her crotch to his own, steadying what loomed large and pulsating between them. Grecia heard herself moan, the anticipation was too wonderful not to, and she waited, and hoped, to be reprimanded for not keeping quiet again. "Shut up!" He hissed down at her, louder this time, angrier, but Grecia drank in the coarseness, wanted more, reached out to touch him, to make him hurry. Her eyes stayed closed, they wouldn't open, opening them would have brought an end to this; somehow she knew that…but…what she didn't know was who—

"God damn it, Grecia!" Now he was really annoyed and his voice was so loud, and right beside her ear, and it sounded suddenly…real. Her pale blue eyes popped open then, stunned when all she saw above her was the bottom side of Hershel's dining room table, under which she made her bed, if it could be called that, at night; space was now at a premium in Hershel's house, what with sixteen people living in it. Under the dining room table was literally all that was left by the time Grecia had packed her bundle of useless things and moved into the house. She wasn't sure why she was even holding onto her portfolio anymore, or the ridiculous perfume and cosmetic line that bore her name. No one in the group could believe those had been the survival supplies she'd hurriedly grabbed when the outbreak hit; it was just one more thing that made them all believe she was stupid. But Grecia knew she wasn't stupid…but she also knew she looked that way despite it. Choosing to sleep under the dining room table likely didn't help that image, but in truth, she'd liked it under here. It felt like her own shelter; it was private, a divided space that separated her from everyone else. She didn't fit in with the others of her group and didn't have a clue how to. They all knew her, most of them had watched her reality show and laughed while she whined and cried as a dentist fitted her teeth with the latest in whiter than white porcelain veneers, thought it was hilarious when she couldn't put a manual transmission into gear, still teased her about the episode where she walked out on the very end of the pier to take a picture of the moon because she "could be closer to it from there." That was all a little easier to forget under this table, there was no one else under here to point it out to her, but that wasn't the only reason she liked it under here. This table was one more piece of something between her and any walkers that might get into the house! Walkers! Geeks! Zombies! Whatever they were, Grecia was terrified of them, would give anything not to have to see another one for the rest of her life. But shelter and terror aside, right now Grecia was trying to figure out what the hell was going on. Why was she seeing the underside of her table-house and not…him, whoever he was? How could he make her feel everything she was feeling and not be the first thing she saw when she opened her eyes?

A dream…it was only a dream she began to realize, finally waking completely, doing her best to try and shake it off…and then, much to her alarm, she did see him…Grecia may have had underneath the dining room table all to herself, but she also had an unwelcomed "upper bunk mate." Daryl's head was now visible, hanging upside down as he glowered at her from where he leaned down to look at her from his dining room table top bed; dirty blonde hair plastered to his forehead, blue eyes nearly invisible within the creases of his angry, groggy face as he barked at her, all growling and pissed off. "Shut up! Knock that shit off or I'm comin' down there and stompin' the shit outta you!"

"Shhhhhh"…"Shut up!" Oh my God! A deep, startled breath rushed Grecia's lungs and she sat up so quickly her forehead almost pancaked against the underside of the table…the thump and bump from which would have only further irritated Daryl…who she'd been dreaming abo—no…oh no…Grecia wasn't even putting that sentence together in her head! But it was too late…she realized who it was in her dream…even if she never once saw his face…she felt him, felt him all over…and he felt like Dar—no! How the hell would she even know what Daryl felt like anyway? The only times they'd ever touched each other was occasionally when he'd put his hand on her arm to make her lower her rifle, or grabbed her wrist or shoulder to pull her around behind a tree, or down behind something that would provide cover while they were out patrolling for walkers. There was no romance between them; not at all. Grecia was still pretty certain that they weren't even friends. Daryl scared the hell out of her! Well, he used to…he kind of still did…but that was a little different now. For some reason he'd seemed to have taken a weird interest in her, had talked Rick into giving her a chance to prove herself when it came to serving as part of what Rick referred to as the "Defense Force." But what Daryl liked to call "training" Grecia understood more as hours of torture in the woods around the farm, running up and down steep, muddy hills while holding her Savage 110 hunting rifle above her head, or Daryl screaming and yelling at her while she struggled to empty all her rounds into multiple, moving targets, and reload her weapon and do it again in less than a minute in a half. Okay, when it came to survival of any kind, she really wasn't prepared, she didn't know anything, and she sure wasn't good at any of it either; Daryl was right in trying to train her, particularly since she'd asked to be part of the Defense Force, but still. Daryl had told her weeks ago when they started this "training" that he was going to "toughen her up, his way," but what was the point if he drove her into the ground before that happened? And how in hell could she have been having such an…erotic dream about Dar…no! She didn't even like him! He didn't like her! She was just…stuck with him; he agreed to train her and then, like, made her into some weird little pet of his, hanging around her, treating her like some unlucky little creature he captured and kept in a jar with some holes poked in the lid. But she'd gone and dreamt about Daryl…and it was good, too! Oh my God! And then Grecia's heart seemed to belly-flop into her throat when she realized something else…she'd heard herself saying things…Oh my God!

Okay, she could handle this…she hoped. She'd just play dumb…who could do that better than her anyway? She took another deep breath and forced herself to look at Daryl's menacing stare and still upside down face…and tried hard not to think about his rough hands or his big, hard…no! "Wh-wh-What?" It was only one word, but she'd stammered as she said it, had to bite her tongue and get herself together before she continued, reminding herself that she had no evidence on which to speculate just how big Daryl's…no, stop thinking about it! Jesus, she'd seen lots of penises, awkward, messy, silly things that they were…so why was she so bitch-slapped over Daryl's? Oh my God…stop connecting the word "penis" with Daryl! Enough! Grecia would have slapped herself there and then if it wouldn't have looked even more conspicuous, opting instead to just gouge herself in the ribs with her broken thumbnail, somehow getting control again, turning to upside down Daryl once more with a dash of her own vehemence. "What do you want?"

"I want you to shut the hell up, that's what I want!" Daryl's words bounced back to her like an irate basketball; he wasn't at all put off by the annoyance she tried to display. "You're talkin' in your sleep! Quit it or I'll ball up that curtain over there and ram it down your throat!"

Grecia felt herself get icy cold, her worst fears confirmed...Daryl had heard her…or…wait…just because he'd heard her, didn't mean he understood…did it? "Sorry," she nodded; her heart pounding and mind turning so fast together that she didn't even notice how much submission there suddenly was in her voice. She had one more question to ask…and the answer was, well, potentially the end of this shitty life as she knew it. But she had to ask, she had to know. Her mouth was dry and she fought the urge to hug her knees to her chest and hide as she did though. "What was I saying?"

"Come on!" The answering voice was loud and exasperated, but it wasn't Daryl's. It wasn't even from the dining room, but instead was immediately recognizable as Shane bellowing from the living room couch he'd claimed as his territory. "We all got timber to cut and a damn big fifteen foot wall to be puttin' up tomorrow 'round this place, and the work starts early! Shut the hell up, both of you!"

When Shane yelled there was something in his voice nowadays that left a tomb-like silence in its wake, and now was no exception. Grecia felt herself shiver a little but tried hard to ignore it, pondering for a moment who was the most dangerous in their little group, Daryl or Shane, when Daryl leaned a bit more off of the table top and nearer to her. He glanced quickly towards the living room but then back at Grecia, his voice as low as he could make it be while still sounding pissed with her, though his expression had softened a bit, seemed almost to take on a concerned tinge to it. "I ain't agreein' with him too much these days," Daryl admitted, but then looked more at Grecia and set his face straight back to meanness again. "But, yeah!" he concurred with a snarl.

"Fine with me," she shrugged, laying down again under the table, and then Grecia sighed…in relief; had Daryl heard her saying anything that narrated the dream she was having, he wouldn't just be kicking her ass to shut up and go back to sleep, right? He'd be all over something like hearing her crying out "Oh yes, fuck me, Daryl, fuck me!" wouldn't he? Oh no…why in hell had she put that sentence together in her head? Why didn't they make memory bleach? Grecia needed some…for so many things really, but right now, mostly for that dream…that incredible…but terrible dream. Daryl knew nothing about it, thankfully…but Grecia did…so, what now?

Author's Note: Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed it and are eager for more! If you are, leave me a review and let me know! As this is my first "TWD" fic, I'm truly in need of reaction and guidance to make sure I'm hitting the right marks with the characters and other atmospheric elements of the show! Thank you and I want you all to know how much I value my readers, so please, I'd love to hear from you! Thanks - Grace