Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

the dixon residence; a forgotten and avoided corner of the woods. it was a stain of the earth- beaten up trailers and decade old vehicles, unkept lawns and patches of bleach blonde crabgrass. it was yours though, whole life it had been.

when your parents kicked the bucket the neighbors did a good job stepping up. helped your brothers take care of you, still just a kid- and a girl at that- with problems two older brothers couldn’t bother understanding or caring about. they were too busy getting by, working or getting money one way or another to provide you the bare minimums. merle managed to keep the home at least; promised you 20 bucks to cause a big scene crying for your dead mommy and daddy. he came home that day with a 6-pack and you got drunk for the first time. you were all many years apart, but the scars you all shared were identical.

but now you were all proper adults. you helped to keep up around the house, daryl worked on his bike outside, and merle ruined all your combined efforts at being responsible with his drugs, bad friends, and his path of destruction. the start of summer meant he was heading towards rock bottom again- and you and daryl spend another unforeseeable amount of time fending for yourselves.

you stirred awake to a silent home, a rarity in your line of family. bare feet padded to the kitchen and you beelined to the window pointing to the ‘driveway’- the side of the trailer where merle’s pickup was thankfully missing. you let out a sigh of relief, turning to daryl sitting in his chair against the wall.

“where’d he go off to now,” you ask but don’t really care, grabbing a box of cereal off the counter and digging out a handful you loudly crunch on.

dog is between his legs, and daryl scratches the top of his head just how he likes with one hand, and holds a nearly finished cigarette in the other. “damn, merle definitely got himself in jail.”

“naw, already called the county. i give it a week,” daryl stretches his hand out and you wordlessly pass him some breakfast, opening the fridge and chugging milk straight from the carton, letting your brother have a turn after.

he slams it down on the kitchen table, clearing it and going back to playing with dog’s ears. you pick up the last few hits of his cig and the kitchen is swirling with smoke. it clung to everything, yellow-brown nicotine seeping into every wall in the house. it would look weird if it didn’t honestly.

“guess we gotta go grocery shopping, go put some pants on and get my keys.” daryl flicks his wrist to shoo you away but you grin, bending at the waist to give dog a big kiss before skipping back to your room. daryl pretended like his bike never worked because he knows merle would either steal it or pawn it, now that he was gone…

you hug daryl from behind as he revs his motorcycle, all black and so loud you were sure you’d get an earful from your elderly neighbors. hands clutch a little tighter when he takes off, resting your head against his strong back and watching the corn fields blur down the road. he makes you wear his helmet but doesn’t himself. no matter how much you protest or remind him that you two are just going down the street- “don’t matter,” or “cuz’ i said so,” or “just shut the fuck up and let’s go.”

you two walk around the aisles, sandals clapping against the tiled floor and daryl lazily pushing the cart. you toss in the usual milk bread and eggs, but now stood in the freezer aisle in deep contemplation.

“spongebob or spiderman?” you consulted daryl, who was deadpan.

“you’re not 5, get the regular ones.”

“i don’t like the grape ones, what about these rainbow ones-”

“fuck no,” daryl reached past your head and grabbed a box of regular, non-rainbow, traditional popsicles. “i’ll take the ones you dont eat. we’re getting these, then food for dog-”

“you mean dog food?”

daryl sighed obnoxiously loud and walked away from you as quick as he could. when you found him again he was in line with an arm wrapped around dog’s food, giving you that cold shoulder he always did when he didn’t wanna talk anymore. quick to get annoyed, quicker to ignore you for the rest of the day.

on the way back home, your helmet was secured with no slick comments or remarks.

at the kitchen table you slurped on a popsicle. you could be loud and obnoxious too. baby talked dog while you were at it, daryl hated that shit. and yeah maybe you could just listen more, sometimes, but daryl could learn to be nicer to you too.

his glare couldn’t hide behind the hand he held against his chin. his eye twitched at every sound that came from your lips, curling his lip when he saw you take a bite and chew ice cream. daryl thought you were fucking weird; you knew what you were doing.

the busted up dirty-white fan in the window wasn’t blowing hard enough apparently, you were dripping all down your chin and onto the wooden table. making a mess he knew you wouldn’t be bothered to clean up. he’d make you lick the counter clean if he had to.

his hand was around your wrist in a flash, making you choke on your treat and immediately aiming back to smack him.

“stop fuckin’ slurpin’, eat it like a fuckin’ lady.” when daryl cursed twice in the same sentence you knew you were getting on his nerves just right. he always barked at you through his teeth, thin lipped and thin patience.

“i am eatin’ it!” you tried to reach for another bite, chomping your teeth loudly, but daryl held you still.

“don’t bite. hurts my teeth to see that shit.”

“so don’t watch me.” you huffed, now poking out your tongue and daryl tilted it back towards you. the blue and red of the popsicle bled into your mouth- purple licking a small stripe on the side then sucked it back into the pillows of your lips to drink the color out.

murky blue eyes reflected back to daryl, mirroring his own. you were his own. looking up at him through those lashes, streaks of melted sugar down his fingers, sliding down slowly, slowly- until you bit his knuckle hard enough to make him shout and let go.

you snickered evilly, lapping up the droplets and scraping the rest of it off the stick. you liked to let it melt in your mouth before swallowing. daryl tried grumbling and calling you names, but you didn’t care, you got him fair and square. washing your hands at the sink and bringing the wet rag to wipe down the table, you leaned over daryl.

“so, we drinkin’ tonight or what, brother?”

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by mid afternoon you and your brother were sunk into the tattered couch, feet up, and perfectly under the influence. the crt box tv buzzed some lame show that you didn’t care for but daryl actually liked- mork and mindy, you didn’t know how he could stand to watch these reruns over and over.

you remembered when you were all kids, him and merle would hear that intro and immediately drop whatever they were doing to run over and hop onto the couch. you thought maybe they would’ve liked something more… raunchy? violent? guns and drugs?

“speakin’ of merle,” you slurred with a finger poking into his side.

“who’s talkin’ bout him?” daryl swatted your hand away and raised the tv volume up a couple notches.

“can’t believe he took off in his truck… what if we needed that, y’know?”

daryl turned it up more with a dismissive shake of his head. he was well aware of drunk-you, rambling on and on about bullshit and how you thought he could somehow read your mind.

“before you start your yappin’ go n’ get me another beer.”

you groaned all the way to the box of liquid gold, grabbing two and your jug of orange juice to chase with. daryl chuckled as he cracked his open, grinning so hard he was spilling precious alcohol from the corners of his mouth. it soaked up into the little patch of beard on his chin, laughing even harder as you took a measly sip of beer and a chug of oj.

“gotta man up some more y/n,” he poked your side now. you took a deep breath and blew raspberries at him before your next swigs.

“fuckin’ hate this man beer, why can’t you ever buy me some wine coolers? what’s wrong with juice anyways?!” you whined and writhed around dramatically when he kept at his bothering.

“you can get a job.”

you whined again at the horrid suggestion, kicking your feet around like a kid, landing them across his lap. you were definitely buzzed, feeling it wiggling your toes around. “w-why would i get a dumb job if i got dumb brothers.”

daryl scoffed, he wasn’t even gonna get into that with you, not while you were like this. you would get all emotional if he told you the truth; merle’s only income was illegal and neither of them could hold down a job long enough for something stable. two addict rednecks didn’t sit well in an office or fit into society much… at all.

daryl tried, though. worked the gas station down the block in high school before he had to drop out. and he got fired for taking bottles on the clock and drinking on the job and punching some tweaker who stepped too far. he was glad and damn proud he got you to stay in school long enough to graduate, but so fucking disappointed you never went further. you could’ve been some golden child, but that meant you’d save them. he was the man. he’d never let that happen.

maybe you were too dumb after all, currently wiping your dirty feet all over his clean white tank. he’s got no wife, so daryl should be calling it a sister-beater because he’s about to rock your shit if your little filthy toes go anywhere near his face. you drank up some more and he was crushing his third.

“ugh, i wish we had our cd playerrr! we need some music in this dump!!” you threw your head over the armrest of the sofa, leaning back you could almost slid right off, tank top riding up far enough to expose that god forsaken belly piercing. you changed it to a dangly little pink gem, daryl saw you playing with it all the time. always had to have your hands busy. he fucking hated it, how you told him “first off, i can do what i want. second, it’s sexy.”

who the fuck were you getting sexy for?

he didn’t mind all your other piercings, had a particular fondness for the angel wing tattoo on your back to go with his. he hated when you dyed your hair blue. he thought it was cute when you cut your hair short, uncanny, looked just like his when he let it get too long. despised how you never wore a bra-

his eyebrows raised high on his forehead. you’ve really grown up. two peeks of tits and he could see your nipples poking through. god, he was… pissed.

“y’know yew leftma fuckin’ favorite cd in merle’s shitbox,” he grunted when you rested your crossed ankles on his shoulder, like he was some kinda doormat. “n’you let him take it? fucks yer problem, huh?!” you were being stupid. hate was not a strong enough word anymore. and your feet-

daryl scooped his arm under your legs and quicker than you could blink or breathe or cry out he had them folded against your front and bared his teeth like a rabid dog.

“i didn’t take yer stupid cd, bitch!” nose to nose, his breath reeked. so did yours.

“you never listen, you didnt take it, dumbass!” you barked right back, grabbing at his short dark tufts of hair. yours spiked the same way as his did, turned the same color when you sweat balls outside all day, run down the nape of your neck the same way after a shower.

the cd was your favorite because it was raw and heavy with no skips but also because merle and daryl liked it too. only reason it was in there was because the last time you three, actually all together in the truck, went anywhere you asked to play it. every track you memorized just for this moment, wanting to show your brothers you were cool too. that you could learn from them, be just as good as them. dog laid in your lap happily and steering wheels faced the abuse of merle’s drum solos and daryl’s ears bled to your imitation of the guitar. “you sound like a dying cat, dog hates that shit.”

but dog was just sitting there, watching daryl twist you around and dangle you over the edge of the couch he used to chase you around. arm wrapped around your throat with his other hand holding the top of your head steady. you always lost this game.

“you fuckin dumb bitch, gettin’ me all mixed up in your little head, now what?” his breath was hot and heavy against your ear. his arm pressed your neck back some more, a choked whine finally coming out, daryl could push you more.

“say it,” he sang, hearing the smug smirk he had on right now. “say it and i let go, come on, y’know.” he mocked your voice.

your nails dug into his arm, trying to bite, or kick, or push him off. yeah, you knew. your head felt like your first hit of nicotine and your heart was pounding and your thighs were shaking trying to hold your brothers weight up.

tapping his elbow, you only managed to wheeze out his name, squirming- had to be too much, because you could feel how hard daryl was as you sputtered to catch your breath. he hovered over you as you fell on your stomach.

your back was all sweaty, strays of hair swirling against your skin, you were just moving around too much under him and making weird noises, that’s what he started to tell himself.

“aight, good… damn. took you long enough, gotta piss.” daryl huffed, getting up and stumbling to the bathroom. he couldn’t look in the mirror, not now. he’d just see you.

you stared wide eyed at the commercial on the tv, mouth agape, face flushed but it was totally the beer. you scrambled to get up and finish off your can, chugging so hard you could almost hear daryl cheering you on, but he was probably in the bathroom-

nah, you were drunk. drunk felt good, be good.

you took your juice and bolted straight to your room, brushing by daryl on his way out the bathroom. he stiffened as he watched you stomp away with the last two of the pack trailing behind you, still in the plastic rings of the packaging.

daryl took his place on the couch, groaning into the cushion part from finally being comfortable part from the fact the couch stunk like dog.

“go gemme’ a beer,” he tried to him wave down, but dog just wagged his tail and licked his hand. “stupid dog,” the room was successfully starting to spin and his stomach was churning just right and his heart felt heavy like always. dog nuzzled into him, even if daryl tried pushing him away. daryl grumbled when he slobbered all over his face, too exhausted to care. scratched his ears, “i’m dirty, y’know that?”

Chapter Text

humming alive with a deep stretch of your arms and legs, you woke up with sun beaming through your eyelids. an exasperated sigh and a kick of your foot knocked loose the curtain that you failed to put down last night, shielding your sensitive eyes. you always felt disgustingly horrible after drinking too much.

your arms dangled at your sides as you slinked off the bed, a mess of blankets and specks of dog’s hair floated with you. nudged open the door, broken hinges prevented it from closing. from slamming it too much as a ‘moody’ teenager or from one of your brothers trying to break it down to get in for whatever reason, who knew!

everytime you thought you guys outgrew the childish, sibling arguments and fighting they threw a random punch- literally. that was definitely your dad’s fault. at least your mom told you to fight back, bite kick and scream. she could’ve told them to just stop, but it was too late and they were both long gone.

peeking out to the hallway you could hear grunting repeatedly, and there daryl was, doing pull-ups like a madman and shining with sweat. the same sweatpants from last night draped across his hips dangerously low and god, when did he get so fucking ripped? the grooves of muscles in his back clenched and released as he easily lifted himself up and down.

you scowled and retreated back to your bed, propping open the window to wake n’ bake. that was your hangover cure- not a big breakfast, water, or any of that pussy shit. if you felt weak and heavy, getting high would make you feel light and free. ash collected in the windowsill from years upon years of this same ritual. didn’t quite know why you still tried to hide it, not like you’ve never walked into the house with dirty, burnt through glass pipes or merle face down in the couch. or the floor. or the table- any surface of the house really, has seen one of his overdose scares.

at least daryl was just a regular drunk in his free time. an angry drunk, sure, but nothing you couldn’t handle. had your moments too; rage streamed in your blood and the entire family swam in it.

but now your blood has settled, all the before feelings ceased, and it was just you in your own bed. weed made you feel good again, brain and body. a good distraction from constantly feeling like a groggy, walking bruise. your small little bong was a graduation gift from your best friend, she went down into the city with some college guy, brought you back a cute little pink piece with a heart shaped bowl. she told you how she was so in love, but you knew that just meant she was getting fucked right.

your fingers wandered down to the waistband of your panties. wondered when it would be your turn. to be loved, or to be fucked. you always peeked during sex scenes in movies, saw how good it looked to the actors. your brothers were a couple of guard dogs, or cock-blocks, to every guy you’ve ever been in a 5-mile radius of. merle always made it a point to call it ‘love-making’, even though it never sounded too romantic with whatever skank he was bringing home. you could hear daryl throwing his weights on the floor in the room over.

your eyes were low and your fingertips sunk into yourself. you wanted to make love, without all the extra work. imagined a guy between your parted thighs, he had to know just how to take care of you. no other guy could ever get the chance to figure you out. so who was left on the entire earth that could love you, and fuck you, just how you wanted?

at least daryl never brought no girl home. you didn’t wanna know what he would say to her to get her to drop to her knees, didn’t wanna hear the bed creaking, definitely didn’t wanna know how he sounded during it. your lips fell open, eyes screwed shut, daryl was panting now. probably got done doing his pushups. your eyes fluttered open gently, you could almost feel the chain around his neck brushing against your nose. it would sound…

“just…like…that…” your back arched slightly off the mattress, feet planted firm and toes catching the folds of the sheets. you brought your pillow to your mouth, grinding against your hand. “daryl,” a secret slipped past your muffled lips, spoken to the cotton casing for no one else to hear.

”y/n,” his voice echoed in your brain. and his arms. he was so strong.

“daryl,” he’s gotten so big. you were grown now too. he felt perfect against you, like he just fit, like it was just…right.

“aye, you smokin’ in here without me-”

you chucked the pillow you were drooling on at the door, swinging open and landing directly in your brother’s face. brother, daryl, right.

“get the fuck out!” you shrieked, but you felt you sounded more like a raging monster. he shut the door as quick as he opened it, an eerie silence that you had to sit in now, in your own mess. fingers sticky and a heat, pooling, now fading away.

“well, whenever you’re done fryin’ your brain i’m leavin’ to the corner store.”

you contemplated for a moment- you were thirsty, nothing to munch on, needed wraps, possibly more cigarettes to feed your shared addictions… but you were just coming down from a denial of cumming. you wiped your fingers on your leg and dug through the pile of clothes on the floor, picking up a familiar oversized black band shirt. did you really want to spend time with daryl right now?

you waved at your neighbors when you drove past them on the road, they honked the horn and you held onto your brother a little tighter as you laughed to the air. he commented on your cheery-ass mood, but you just pretended not to hear.

and when daryl parked the bike a block away, you pretended like you didn’t know him as you two walked in, he held the door open for you with a ”ladies first.” and pretended like you were trying to find a flavor of swishers you tried the other day. “naw, it was purple, no maybe a red? dark red though, not the originals.”

you pushed yourself up onto the counter, effectively blocking the cashier’s vision while daryl snuck around to the coolers and whatever else he had to grab. when the man tried craning his neck to the back of the aisles, you pushed your arms together and redirected him. men were easy like that, his eyes immediately panning back to ogle you.

“you gunna buy something or that boyfriend of yours gonna keep stalin’?” he had a lip full of tobacco with a mean mug. he should smile more, and get off your back while he was at it.

“he ain’t my boyfriend,” you scoffed, furrowing your eyebrows. pointing straight forward, loud and clear, “russian creams, from the back, and you know what?”

the man sighed, annoyed, pulling a pack from the back and tossing it on the table. you fake fished around in your pockets for some dollar bills, daryl taking his place behind you in line. you slapped your hand on the counter and grabbed it, leaning forward with a sneer. he mirrored your expression, continuing to eye daryl.

“he’s my brother, you dumb fuck.”

the two of you cackled as you barrelled out the doors and down the curb, daryl clutching 2 cases of alc to his chest and you took the extra stuff he threw at you, no time to look through it all. hopping back on the bike and rushing to start it up, you were an accomplice again, masterminds at gypping these gas station owners. daryl left the man in the dust as the wheels spun around, speeding away with a hard days work balanced between the two of you and a middle finger as a final parting message.

that guy probably fucked daryl over, maybe merle had something against him, or maybe you didn’t care regardless. it was the least you could do, you were the distraction and he was the getaway driver, and he managed to get you the best pack of wine coolers ever made. fruity, went down easy, the gesture grand enough to wanna press a kiss to your big brother’s shoulder as he drove you guys back home. one bottle got you tipsy enough to forget about the day before, and the second made the awkward morning disappear.

soft snores and small twitches of your fingers proved to daryl you were really asleep, colors from the tv illuminating every curve and angle of your face, curled up beside him. daryl rubbed his eyes and carefully lifted your legs off his lap, keeping a hand around your knees to pick you back up. your head lolled back and he secured your neck like you were some kind of baby. instinctively or as some sick joke you rubbed against him, nuzzling your face into his chest.

yeah, you were a dumbass drunk, for sure.

shouldered open your bedroom door and placed you into your mess of 3 different covers and scratchy sheets and that stupid cheap stuffed animal he won at a carnival. it wasn’t even the biggest one, he could’ve done better.

you immediately melted into your bed, humming and scratching your stomach. you fumbled around with the band of your shorts, gonna wake yourself if you kept that up.

“off?” he whispered, wincing at how quiet he made himself just for you. he slowly unbutton your way too short shorts and shimmied them down your thighs, whole time your fingers were gently brushing down his arm. he threw them to the floor and you grabbed hold of him before he could go.

“stay?” your voice quivered with a pained expression, eyes still closed to not lose your unconscious and wake up. “doggy?” you whimpered just like the stupid animal.

you probably thought it was dog who magically lifted you back to bed. daryl wondered how you imagined that, if dog was walking on his hind legs as his arm settled just under your ribs and tucked under you, his other arm beneath the pillow and your head.

your pillow smelled like dollar strawberry shampoo but your hair smelled like smoke and sweat. should’ve showered your rank ass outside before letting you back inside, knew you hated going to bed dirty. he craned his head to look around- this room was filthy in itself. clothes everywhere, your only bra hanging from the last remaining knob of your dresser. trash and bottles and random shit.

another whimper of yours brought him back to you, feeling you start to shake and start mumbling. he pressed a chaste kiss to your shoulder and squeezed you a little tighter, bringing you in just a little closer, still- always- a crybaby. he wouldn’t let that happen.

those nightmares of yours were killer but you never said much about them- not like it needed much thought anyways; the reactions were telling enough. used to wake up crying, or talking, even walking around in the middle of the night. usually it just made you real sad for the rest of the day. but your big brother was there, mutters to you, “i got you now, he not here anymore.”

at by the crack of dawn dog was nestled in the gap between your intertwined legs, tail thumping against the mattress. both mops of hair clinging to sticky foreheads and soft tickling breaths with noses in necks. completely buried in daryl and his arms encasing you.

“well well well,” only one man’s voice struck so much fear into your hearts that it could jolt you awake. dog’s growls vibrated up your legs and your stomach churned. your eyes pried open and daryl was already turning over, covering you up quickly.

“what you doin’ to my little sister, bro? you guys keepin’ it in the family while im not here?”

daryl shoved merle back, standing up straight and preparing to go head to head with him. you scowled and wrapped yourself up tighter in the thin blanket, cocooning in to shield yourself from merle’s incoming rage.

“alright alright,” he threw his hands up in causal defeat. merle never did that. you were half expecting him to throw a punch to daryl’s jaw and have them start fighting at your bedroom floor. maybe merle came back a changed man. his laugh was a roar, “can’t be glad to see you two still breathin’ and the house ain’t burnt down?!”

he slung an arm around daryl’s shoulders, pulling him in close and whispering to him despite his struggle to push him off again. you eyes narrowed in disgust.

“back so soon and yer already causin’ problems.” you called out to them as he dragged him out, he waved you off and daryl spared you one last glance, through you, comforting you even though the warmth was ripped away yet again. if only he knew what your dream was about, that you can predict the future apparently, that it was all about merle this time.

dog ducked under with you, whining as he licked all over your face and laid on top of you. back to bed, you guessed, while daryl was probably being subject to more crime or covering for merle.