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Bucky Barnes Birthday In The Country

―I never imagined seeing the Winter Soldier, the greatest and deadliest assassin of the last 50 years, wearing a plastic crown at a children's party― I heard a sweet and amused voice behind me.

I was trying to pour myself more vodka juice from the kitchen and taking the opportunity to catch some fresh air outside the circle of Avengers and parents I didn't know, besides small children running around everywhere.

―Neither did I, this wasn't my original plan for my day off― I replied, looking at her with a small smile as I leaned against the sink.

Cass had her arms crossed over her chest as she leaned against the door frame, a smile on her face and a glass in her hands.

―I didn't tell you before, but thank you for coming. Lila was very happy to have you here― she said, approaching me slowly with a slight smile.

I sighed with a smile on my face as I listened to her. She had dragged me to a birthday party for Barnes' daughter at the farm, and instead of taking the opportunity to stay alone in the complex reading or listening to quiet music without having to listen to people passing by or arguing, I had knelt before Cass, and now I was at Clint's farm lifting children with my metal arm, wearing a plastic crown on my head.

―I'm sure she was― I sighed, looking down at my feet.

She placed her glass next to mine, and her hands tangled behind my neck with a slight smile. The scent of the perfume I liked was very close to me, almost like a mist on my face, enjoying her smile and the shine of her lips that had nagged me so much to drive slowly below the speed limit.

―Thank you, really. I promise I'll make it up to you― she whispered against my lips, looking into my eyes.

―It's not necessary. I'm just tired and needed a breather― I said, my hands reaching for her waist, feeling her skin goosebumps as she felt my cold metal arm.

―¿Do you want me to leave you alone?― she asked, uncertainty in her eyes.

―No, I never want to be alone if I can be with you for a moment. I just want to be here for a few minutes― I said, looking at her with a slight smile before giving her a small kiss.

She stayed looking at me with a small smile, and I don't know what she was looking at, but I really believe I had the best view. The sunset light hit her face through the window of the house, giving her such a homely and tranquil view that the idea of going somewhere just the two of us reappeared in my mind.

Having a house and living hidden from life, just the two of us quietly leaving behind the Avengers, Hydra, superheroes, or the society on our shoulders, staying in the quietest place in the world alone with our house.

―I would like to have something like that― I whispered, looking into her eyes while playing with her hair.

―¿A children's party or more time together?― she asked, confused.

―A house far from everyone and everything, just the two of us, letting ourselves be carried away by time.

―It would be nice to have some alone moments on a farm and the American dream.

She gave me a small smile, joining her left hand with my metal hand as she reached for a jug of juice since she couldn't drink alcohol due to medication.

―Not just a moment, a lifetime, in secret, and sometimes having missions, but instead of staying in the complex waiting for the next mission or training useless people to waste time, both of us sharing hobbies together without hiding― my flesh hand touched her chin to make her look into my eyes.

―We can't even let my father see us less than 40 meters apart, and you want me to pack my things and go to a house in the countryside? It's very nice, Buck, really, it sounds like something we could really live someday, but it's very difficult. I need medical attention all the time, and I'm always with my father― she said with a sad face, and I looked at the floor.

I let go of her chin to touch the star on her chest. I could see the faint red light coming from inside her chest, her body full of cables and constantly receiving medical attention and medication. It was a reality for her that even though we both wanted to show ourselves, we couldn't, and it would be very unfair, in addition to the increased life risks for her if we separated so much from the complex.

And then there was her father, Tony hated me, and although indirectly Cass tried to make him stop hating me, she only managed to make his sarcastic comments about my past in Hydra, giving me nicknames for my arms, and trying to leave the subject behind or hidden under the rug, but not much more. If he were to find out that I am with his daughter, the least he would do would be to banish me from the Avengers and the complex.

―¿Why is everything with us so difficult?

―Because it shows how strong we are― she touched my chin with the tips of her fingers. ―But I'm aware that the whole situation surrounding us sucks.

―Just a place where we both can be, where we can see each other and just be without the fear on our shoulders.

―We can create moments, we can do things to have a normal life within the parameters, but the idea of a house in the countryside or living alone together is very unlikely― she gave me a sad and melancholic smile, and it hurt my soul to know that as long as we were together, we would live in the shackles of Hydra, my past, and her father.

―I love you― I whispered as I carefully ran my fingers through her hair, looking down at her.

―I love you too― she whispered back with a smile, showing her teeth.

We heard the sound of a conversation nearby, so we quickly separated, me leaning against the countertop and her looking into the fridge with feigned doubt.

―¿What were you doing? Your father is looking for you― Lauren's voice broke the awkward silence.

She looked at us for a moment with a raised eyebrow before walking over to Cass and taking out the birthday cake.

―Tell him I'm coming now― she said tiredly, sighing.

―¿What were you doing?― Lauren asked.

―I was looking for something that doesn't have alcohol but also doesn't have too much sugar. Your husband said there was only orange juice in the fridge― she poured some of the orange liquid.

―¿And your sergeant?

―He needed some time away from sticky hands and loud songs― she sighed, looking at the floor.

She looked at us with a raised eyebrow before tilting her head, ready to leave.

―I don't need you to answer because you'll deny it, especially you, Cassady, but I know you two are up to something, I see it and feel it in the air, but the situation is difficult from what Clint told me, so I won't say anything, and you better both be there for the family photo― she sounded stern as she walked away with the white cake box.

We stayed silent without looking at each other before hearing her laugh.

―¿You wanted a normal couple life? There you have Lauren laughing at us and mocking because we can't hide anything― she said with a smile as she started walking back outside.

Bucky Barnes Jazz Bar ๋࣭ ⭑

―How did you know about this place? It's 19 years old― my hand was holding hers as she led me to a huge bar with a red sign.

Everyone was dressed elegantly, forming a long line around the place, each of them in suits or dresses, elegant shoes, and shiny jewelry, making me feel out of place as I was dressed in blue jeans, a black shirt, a dark blue blazer, and normal black shoes.

Cass looked beautiful, and for the occasion, she was so herself. She wore a long burgundy red top with a black knee-length skirt, burgundy boots, a long black leather coat, and her burgundy purse where she kept the keys to my bike and my few belongings as I didn't know where we were going.

―I have friends outside the superhero world, and my last name isn't just for death threats or kidnappings; it's also for jumping the line right now― she said with a simple smile, pulling out a white card with a golden number on it and handing it to the security guard with his arms crossed against his chest.

With a simple smile, she handed a white card with a golden number on it to the security guard, who then let us pass by moving aside the rope separating the entrance from the line. Her hand never let go of mine as she guided me through the environment of red armchairs, alcohol, tables, and a stage in front of all the seating areas.

―¿What can I help you with tonight?― a waitress approached us with her uniform and a black tray with small glasses of orange liquid with orange slices inside.

―Good evening, I'm Cassidy Stark, and I reserved a table in the upstairs area; if you could take us there, it would be excellent― she sounded so serious and kind at the same time.

A bit hypnotizing the way she interacted with others, using her privileged position to get things done, something I was used to seeing her do at the complex, albeit in a disheveled manner and always with laughter in her voice.

―Follow me, Miss Stark.

The woman started walking ahead of us, guiding the way from the ground floor, which was filled with people already sitting at tables in front of the stage, having drinks or food and patiently waiting with little chatter to avoid drowning out the smooth jazz that was playing by the live bands tonight. We stood in front of some stairs a few meters from the stage against the wall. These stairs had a ribbon like the one outside but this time with a white sign hanging from the burgundy velvet that read "VIP."

―The reservation was for table 3 next to the bay, ¿right?― she asked as she looked at something on a computer.

I didn't know anything, and I was more focused on seeing the place and its mysterious and reserved aesthetics. But as I looked around and tried to read the decorative signs hanging on the walls, I heard Cass's affirmative voice along with the clinking sound of metal.

―Let's go, Buck― she pulled my hand as she climbed the stairs, leaving the waitress behind to be just the two of us along with a few others upstairs.

We had the best view of the stage, and the lights above were closer, almost as if it weren't for the warm, red lights, we would be in the dark.

―It's a new and exclusive bar because of its mysterious nature and the few reservations it allows. People outside are waiting in case there's room inside, even to stand and be with the people listening to unknown Jazz bands, indie music actually but soft from the aesthetics of the place.

―¿Why did you do this?― I asked as I looked around.

―You need to go to places with people who aren't from your environment. It's called exposure therapy, and since you said you liked jazz, well― she gave me a small smile before we sat facing each other.

―¿So it's like a date?― I asked with a raised eyebrow.

―Something like that.

I chuckled a bit, shaking my head before turning to the candlelight in the middle of the table, casting a warm glow on Cass's face.

―¿Whiskey as usual?― she asked, taking her gaze off the menu to look at me.

―Something normal. You know I don't like those trendy drinks nowadays― I looked at her with a small smile.

―You should try something new in your drinks to know that there are more things than the harshness and pain of whiskey― she left the menu as we heard the voice of a man.

We turned to see the waiter, who was dressed like the girl before, holding a notebook and a pen.

―I'll have an espresso martini, and he'll have a whiskey The Macallan 1926, please― she sounded very firm but kind, giving him a smile.

―¿For food?

―I'll have spaghetti with bolognese ragout― she sounded so good speaking Italian that I didn't think about what I wanted to eat.

They both stared at me, waiting for my response, so I stared back at the guy, trying to compose myself.

―The same as her, thanks― I said in a deep voice.

He left, and I heard Cass's laughter faintly, to the point where I also laughed a bit with her.

―¿Do you even know what you ordered?― she asked incredulously, playing with the napkins.

―No, I'm somewhat scared it might be the worst thing I've ever tasted in my life. I really hope it's delicious― I said, feeling the live music starting to play.

It was calm with light drums and a marked rhythm, with a bit of electric guitar in the background along with a guy singing into the microphone artistically. The song seemed to be about a woman, or at least that's what I thought from the way "She" was repeated.

―It's a Bolognese pasta, but the meat is cooked with milk and white wine. The noodles are a bit thicker than usual, and it's served with grated cheese on the sides― she explained with a small smile.

―It doesn't sound so bad, but the idea of meat cooked in milk and wine sounds disgusting due to the combination.

She shrugged her shoulders, staring fixedly at the stage with attention, her right hand holding her chin with her elbow resting against the table, and her left hand playing lightly with the plants on the railing.

―Your drinks and your plates, and in 5 minutes, your food will be ready― the guy brought the white plates with food and the glasses with the wine bottle.

―Thank you― Cass said, getting comfortable, waiting and watching how they left our food.

The plate was white with clean edges, and the pasta in the middle with the sauce spread nicely, with the touch of cheese on the sides slightly raising the mountain with pieces of meat and tomato randomly placed.

―Enjoy.

He left, and my girlfriend took a photo of her plate along with the glass.

―I don't understand why you do that― I said as I took a sip of my drink.

―¿What?― she asked, putting her phone down near the railings and placing the napkin on her lap.

―The photo of your food. I don't understand why you take a picture of your food.

―Because it's pretty, and I want to take a picture of it. Besides, I like posting them in my stories because it looks nice and aesthetic― she began to eat her food lightly.

―I don't understand this modern era. In my times, photos were taken of people and landscapes.

I tried to mimic the way she ate and picked up the pasta from the plate.

She shook her head while laughing before looking back and listening to the music, her foot tapping a bit against my leg, marking the beat of the song.

We spent the night until around 2 am listening to the same guy with his band, drinking a bottle of red wine and finishing the food with a strange frozen dessert that had a chocolate brownie with a scoop of vanilla ice cream prepared with champagne according to the dessert menu.

―Thank you, have a good night― the waiter left after Cass swiped her black card.

―¿Shall we, Buck?― she asked, getting up carefully and with her jacket on, along with her bag.

―¿Are you okay?― I asked, standing up.

―Just a little dizzy― she gave me a small smile.

I took her hand carefully to help her down the stairs, seeing how, despite the time, the bar was still full of new people, and the line outside had the same number of people.

―¿Why are there still so many people?― I asked confused.

―The bar is open until 5 am― Cass replied as she brushed her hair out of her face, breathing in the fresh air.

We both walked to my bike slowly, enjoying the cool spring air with the few stars in the sky.

―Buck― Cass stopped us a few meters from the bike, her hand on her chest, looking at the ground.

I thought the worst; two months ago, her "heart" had suddenly stopped while she was chatting with the guys at dinner, and she was in intensive care until this week when she finally got rid of her tube and some pills to take and eat solid things, but we were all worried. I think if Cass were to shut down right now on the street, and knowing I only have 5 minutes to get her to the complex doctors, I wouldn't mind killing people in my way to the middle of the forest far from the city just to save her.

―¿What's wrong, Doll?― I asked worriedly, placing my hand on her shoulder.

Her head lifted to look at me with her eyes before throwing herself into my shoulders and kissing me forcefully, putting her hands on my left shoulder and on my hip, smiling in the middle of the kiss.

―Thank you for giving me a very nice night; I needed to forget about my life for a moment― she whispered on my lips.

Domestic Affairs with Bucky Barnes

―I used to cut my father's hair while he was working in the lab, so I know what I'm doing― Cass said as she placed a towel over my shoulders and covered my chest.

It was time for a haircut. Steve had told me, Sam had told me, and Natasha had laughed at me because I couldn't always have it in my eyes, and I was fed up with it. Besides, Dr. Raynor had said that maybe a change in my appearance would help me think outside the box and do some exposure therapy to deal with crowded spaces or being touched by unknown beings. I wasn't comfortable with that, and since I urgently needed someone to help me, I reluctantly asked mini Stark for help.

―Just… do it quickly, I don't want to be here for too long― I said uncomfortably.

I looked in the mirror of my bathroom and saw her with a small empathetic smile, touching my metal shoulder, which made me feel worse. It wasn't a part of my body that I loved.

―I want you to know that if you feel pressured or have any horrible Hydra flashbacks while I'm cutting or using the machine, you need to tell me to stop because it won't be good for you to keep that to yourself. Trust me, I know from experience― she said, looking at me through the mirror.

I nodded with little confidence, but we were already here, and I wasn't going to let anyone I didn't know touch me.

―Tell me about what you've learned about the new world recently― she said, wetting my hair with a sprayer, and my skin quickly became goosebumps. I sighed, closing my eyes.

―Steve has been showing me music or the one he started delving into modernity with, but I still prefer 40s music.

I felt the metal blades against my nape, and I was momentarily startled, but Cass's free hand gripped my shoulder, tapping or making patterns to keep me calm, something she did to herself sometimes when there were loud noises or her father talked about her time in Hydra as an experiment. She played with her metal heart-shaped pendant on her chest.

―¿What music did he show you? ¿Pop? ¿Rock? ¿Hip-hop? ¿Rap?― she asked, very concentrated as she cut. I could feel my long hair falling to the floor.

―He showed me a band, Nirvana, ¿maybe? He likes them a bit, but I don't know. I have to listen to more things― I said with a grimace.

―Their albums are on Spotify. Dad kind of likes Nirvana, and I'm okay with their lead singer― she said, her tongue sticking out, too busy to connect my gaze with hers in the mirror.

―¿Is Spotify that round black and green thing in every room of the house?― I asked, confused. I had been trying to be explained things like the screens in every room or the circles that, when touched, showed other things, but it was still hard to grasp.

She let out a amused laugh, stopping cutting my hair to grab the modern version of my flip phone. She liked old things but with a new version for this time, or so she kept telling me when I asked her how a young and beautiful girl could kiss and love an old and broken man like me.

Leaving the scissors on the sink and talking to the house's robot, an old 40s song began to play. I didn't like it much, but it was nice, and I liked how she swayed her hips, resuming work and humming a few things.

―You'll hear the songs that have been left in your personal music registry by Steve and some songs of mine with certain similarities in melody or tempo, so you can find new things without leaving your comfort zone― my hair was getting shorter, and the time to use the machine was approaching, but Cass's sweet and calm voice was like a fog to my mind.

―I still prefer record players― I said.

She laughed again.

―Of course you do― she said, putting the scissors on the white marble and resting her forearms on my shoulders. ―¿What do you think? ¿Shall I start cutting with the machine or leave it like this?"

She asked me, looking into my eyes through the mirror with a little smile.

―Shorter, nothing behind the ears, and little hair on the face― I said confidently.

She smiled and gave me a small kiss on the cheek before stepping away from me and grabbing the machine carefully.

―Let's go carefully, ¿okay? If you feel pressured, if you don't like it, if the noise is too much, we can stop whenever you want― she lightly massaged my shoulders.

I nodded carefully, sighing and closing my eyes and staying with the soft sound of the guitar and violins playing in the bathroom. Cass's soft voice singing along with the woman in the song trying to distract me from the sound of the machine so close to my head was comforting.

―It's called 'The Lakes.' It's from a very calm and deep album by Taylor, the blonde girl I have plastered all over my room― she said near my ear with a calm voice.

―¿The one you spent making bracelets and made me one?

―Exactly, you'll like this album. It's very calming and has very beautiful lyrics, and it helps you sleep because of how sweetly she sings. I have the vinyl, so someday, when you have nightmares, we'll listen to it.

―I always have nightmares.

―And that's why we're going to listen to it tonight― she kissed the top of my head before turning me around to face her.

Both of us face to face, her eyes shining with excitement with the machine in hand, and for a moment, I remembered that thing passing by me, and I didn't even feel it.

―I have to tap ahead, so I need you to be very still and calm, ¿okay? You can hold onto my waist if something scares you― she grabbed my chin with a smile on her face.

―It's okay, Doll, I promise.

She stopped looking at me and focused on cutting the front part of my hair while my arms were around her hips, watching her from below. Her concentration was the same as when she used to create her machines or when she did things in her laboratory, so she was taking her work very seriously.

―I vaguely remember my mother cutting my hair when I was little― I said, looking at her.

―That's sweet, Buck. For a long time after Daddy rescued me from Hydra, I couldn't get near anything sharp because I wanted to end my life on Earth, so when they had to cut my hair, Dad and Adriana, his assistant, would put on Disney movies for me, and both of them would cut my hair― she hummed a few lines of the song from before from time to time.

She suffered for three years what I did for 50 years, but we were still at the same level of pain and trauma. She was very young, a preteen, and she was already a killing machine, and they not only messed her up mentally but physically with that star on her chest and putting cables instead of veins.

―I'm sorry.

―Buck, everyone has their response to the situation. Mine was wanting to throw myself out the window because of the pain, but now I'm better and ready to help you in everything― she bent down to kiss my lips carefully before turning me around to look at her in the mirror.

It didn

't turn out bad at all; she had talent for this, and it showed by how proud she was of her work.

―I like it, I thought it would look worse― I said surprised as I approached the mirror to see myself; it was weird to see myself with short hair, although I didn't dislike it.

She looked at me incredulously, but it didn't last long as that proud smile appeared on her face again.

―I'm glad you like it, Buck, and I'm very proud of you for overcoming another fear today. You were very brave with me― she looked into my eyes through the mirror before leaving a kiss on my head.

―Thank you, Doll.

―It was a pleasure, my love.

Daryl's three favorite memories

3-

—You should take advantage of the fact that there's a long barrier and a roof over our heads to rest at least a bit— Kat's voice pulled me out of my thoughts as I stared out the window.

—Normally it's me telling you that you should sleep, like now that you should be with your eyes closed taking care of Carl— I said crossing my arms over my chest.

—I can't if you're not beside me to hold me.

—You're a spoiled brat, Kat— I shook my head as I looked down at my chest.

—Maybe— she rested her head on my shoulder.

We both stood in silence, gazing at the starry sky, listening to our breathing and occasionally the breathing of others.

—The sky will look better outside, come with me— she took my hand and pulled it with a slight smile.

We left the house being careful not to wake anyone. She was very poorly dressed, only wearing her red plaid shirt buttoned up to her chest and bare feet, so I gave her my vest as if that would help.

She leaned her forearms against the railing of the white porch while the moon and I stood behind her with my arms beside hers, gazing at her while we both sighed.

—It reminds me of my previous home, before everything started.

—Go wake everyone up, we're leaving now— I said as I stepped away, and she grabbed my hand.

We stared into each other's eyes again as I approached the railing, now her elbows resting against the cold wood and her eyes on mine, my hands on her waist without breaking eye contact.

—Not the aspect of a racist neighborhood full of multimillionaires but in the sense of a private place full of houses, artificial air, and the superficiality with which reality is painted outside of this place— she said as she touched my chin, analyzing the small hairs I had.— These people don't know what's really out there, and it shows from the plasticity of the environment.

—I never thought I would say it, but now I miss being outside.

She let out a small laugh, wrapping her arms behind my neck and pulling me towards her.

—It's only been hours, give this dollhouse a chance— she said with laughter in her voice, and I just gave her a dirty look.— Or until I take over the place, whichever comes first.

I laughed with her then, knowing her, she would be the new leader in a sort of coup d'état if she found more flaws than what she already had on a list in that stupid notebook she always carried around.

—My girlfriend is always going to be the next dictator of every place we go to, ¿right?— I asked, burying my face in her neck and smelling the cleaning products she forced me to use.

—Not a dictator, I like to think of myself as a kind of savior superior to the previous leaders.

—And then the narcissist is me, obviously.

She laughed, grabbing my face and pulling me away from her neck to be inches apart.

—I know you feel uncomfortable, really, I know, it's just like you looked around with disgust but believe me, for once in our lives, ignoring the harsh reality is going to come to us to relax at least our shoulders a bit— her voice was sweet, her gaze hopeful.

She always comforted Carl, saying that everything would be fine because somewhere near or far there was a place where we could all be together as a family and give him and Judith a "normal" life. Since Terminus, that hope began to bother me, but now she seemed so happy within what she was accustomed to before that I couldn't help but smile.

—I don't want anything to happen, I want to protect everyone— I said, playing with the fabric of her waist.

—I know, Daryl, really, I know, but in this world, I think we should already know that something is always going to happen, and we should also learn that there will be few places or moments where we could breathe safely, at least for a while, this is one of those times, I know everything seems so Barbie-like but for once, you should be able to lie down and live the heterosexual and vanilla fantasy of the American dream.

—We said we wouldn't have children— I looked at her confused.

—Not with ours, but with Carl and Judith or whoever happens to be the cool guys with dogs and cats, Deanna said we could have a house as a "young" couple to have new population, I think she wanted us to have children. and no pets, but never specified— She swayed his hips from side to side with a teasing smile on his face.

—I highly doubt she meant having children after asking in front of the whole group if he was your father— I looked at her with a sour face seeing her amused smile.

—It was funny, actually.

—For you, not for me, it's the first time they've told us that, and I'm not even that old— I said with indignation but with some fun in my face; this conversation could be taken too seriously.

—There are a couple of years difference between you and me, we know that, I think we were so used to everyone in our world being people who knew we were from the beginning that it caught you by surprise but not me.

—Yes, because you're the sweet and young girlfriend of this old and grumpy man who could be your father, of course, you won't mind being called my daughter.

—A little, I didn't really mind, but it was still weird, I didn't feel very comfortable with how natural it was for him to say it.

We both fell silent for a while, looking at each other in the eyes, but in my head, I could only think about how lucky I was to find a woman like Kat, things like these situations that I knew were going to happen since 16 years of difference is too much.

I could see the rest of the people in that plastic place and I realized how things were.

I noticed the looks that were directed at Kat; I never forgot how beautiful my girlfriend was. It never crossed my mind to not give her at least one compliment a day, as in my eyes, she was the most beautiful woman on earth. But I also noticed that now more unfamiliar and shallow people around us looked at her with eyes beyond doubt or fear. It struck me to the core to have been so accustomed to being the only one who could see her in that way, as everyone else was family, which now left me banging my head against the wall.

Our age difference had always been marked, but after so much time together, it was hardly noticeable, neither to us nor to the group, so it became something normal. Now, with many more people her age and the same youth, I had some doubt that she might see that she was with an old, bitter, tired, and fed-up man, and might leave for someone with her same energy and positivity.

—¿What are you thinking about?— she asked, running her fingers through my long hair.

—That I don't deserve you, but you're still with me— I said as I looked at her.

She straightened up, leaving her relaxed posture behind and looked at me with concern, grabbing my hands and leaving them in the middle of both of us.

—¿Is this because of what Deanna said or because I laughed? Because I swear my intention wasn't to make you doubt our relationship; it was just something funny— she said, worried, and I wanted to kick myself.

—It's not because of that, darling, but it's related a bit. There are so many people your age that I'm afraid you'll realize you're with an old man like me, knowing that there are many more possibilities with someone like them.

She relaxed as she looked at me teasingly.

—Daryl, I don't want anyone my age; I don't want anyone else but you, the one who has been with me all the way. Even though we didn't get along at first, we managed to iron out our differences, and look where we are. I want the man who held my hand and supported me all the time, and believe me, the age of both of us isn't a very important factor for me because you could be my age, or I could be yours, and the situation would be the same, ¿right?— her hands framing my face with a smile that melted my heart.

I just nodded.

—I love you, ¿okay?— she said as she looked at me with a small smile.

We had agreed a long time ago that "I love you" between us would only be in very serious moments because it was a true show of love for us. I could still remember our first "I love you" when the prison was attacked.

—I love you— I said as I kissed her lips forcefully, pressing her hips against the railing.

Daryl could see the house where they had spent their first night in Alexandria, while everyone was gathered with him except Kat, who was in the house they shared with their little cat Luna. He wanted to run to her after escaping from the Saviors and reunite with the group, but according to Maggie, she had fallen into a deep depression, so things had to be taken very calmly.

Hello everyone, I wanted to clarify that I'm not a native English speaker, so if there are any errors, please let me know with utmost respect. Don't forget to give a like if you enjoyed it or reblog to reach more people. Sending greetings and kisses to all <3

Daryl's three favorite memories,

2-

Daryl was leaning against the corner of that small room as loud music played. The tears streaming down his face were inevitable, and he was trying everything he could to stop them and at least close his eyes. Lost in hopelessness and the desire to die, he couldn't shake the guilt of the situation, along with not knowing what was happening outside or how Kat was doing. He stared at a fixed point between the dim light coming in and the floor, reminiscing about an old memory from when they were at the prison.

—Judith, I promise if you stop crying for Aunt Kat, I'll let you play with my pens, okay? —I heard the whisper of my "girlfriend's" soft voice as she returned from guard duty; dawn was breaking through the cell windows.

—What are you doing?—I leaned against the bars of the open door, looking at her. She looked tired, her hair tied back haphazardly, and dark circles prominent under her eyes.

—I accidentally hit the metal plate with the candle and woke her up, so I'm trying to calm her down so the others can sleep a little longer.—Kat rocked the baby in her arms as she whispered to him, but the little troublemaker wouldn't stop crying.

I approached her and took the baby from her arms, resting the baby's head on my shoulder and moving around the small space just as I had seen Carol and Beth do many times before. Kat tied her hair back better, focusing on organizing the scattered papers on the desk quickly.

—Did you get any sleep? —I asked, running my hand over Judith's head.

—Sleeping these days is a waste of time. I have to make the most of it to organize the group my way while Rick is grieving and having schizophrenic episodes anyway—she replied brusquely. I raised an eyebrow at her tone, which made her relax, calm her shoulders, and lean against the table.

Her arms crossed over her chest as she sighed, looking at her worn-out sneakers and the dirty floor. I could see her biting her lip hard as she avoided my gaze.

—You should sleep— I said, looking at her.

—At the moment, that's a luxury I can't afford.

—I know we're all going through a tough time. Lori's death was unexpected, but believe me, even when we have to regroup without Rick, we all take some rest, even if it's just a little.

—I know, and all I care about is that everyone rests so we can work tomorrow. But I took Rick's place for a reason; I can handle these situations. I can multitask, but time waits for no one, and I can't waste minutes or hours closing my eyes only to realize tomorrow that no one is guarding the fence or that essential supplies are missing. — his hands moved to his hips as he spoke.

—I know, really, I do, dear, but you can't carry the entire group on your shoulders, okay? We're supposed to be a team, or isn't that what you always say? —I asked in a softer tone as the baby began to fall asleep.

—That's what I say, but every team has a leader. Rick was the leader, but now he's seeing things in the air or ignoring his son, and I can't let everything fall apart. We all contribute in some way, but there will always be someone who has to bear the brunt of it, and that's okay because I want to be that person. I have ideas and an organization that's self-sufficient and fair to everyone, better than what we had before—she grabbed her papers and showed them to me, proving her point.

I sighed heavily and approached her, picking up the scribbled sheets with indecipherable handwriting and putting them back where they were before embracing her tightly against my chest. I could feel her muscles relax under my touch as she wrapped her arms around my body.

—I'm pretty sure your plan for managing everything and ensuring equitable tasks will be a success, I know it. But I need you to rest because when you go to manage everything and control or do your tasks, it'll be very hard for you. You'll get tired, and somehow you'll end up ruining your perfectly planned work— I spoke against her hair, kissing her forehead gently.

We remained silent, enjoying the rays of sun beginning to enter through the small window, the light gradually warming our skin.

—¿You are going to sleep?

—No, I have to explain my plan and convince everyone that it's the best idea. Forget all of Rick's work to do what I want while he's grieving. Besides, I promised Lori to take care of her son, so I have to give everything I can to make his grieving process as bearable as possible and not force his sister onto him as an obligation— she pulled away from me as she spoke, running her hands over her face to wake herself up.

—Carl is a smart kid, ¿okay? He will realize when you are with him out of obligation and fatigue, and that will not help.

—But at least I'm doing something, okay? I'm not trying to shield him from pain or ignore him like Rick does. I promised Lori I'd take care of her son and daughter, and if I have to collapse from exhaustion to do it, I will, not just for him, but for everyone.

—You should be able to rest and enjoy the possible stability it gives you. Not carrying all the work or the burden of the group, trying to live a normal life that we will never have again. That's your problem too, Kat. You are trying to paint reality rosy so that we can feel good about the little normality we have in this new world.

¿The problem? When everything goes to hell, it is a much harder blow for everyone to face reality.

—I can't do it. Someone has to suffer for everyone else to be happy, and I offer myself as a tribute to the harsh reality, so everyone can have a plate of food, shelter, family, comics, and baby food—she was about to slam her hand on the table, but my tense look at Judith stopped her in time, letting her hand drop slowly onto the wood.

I sighed, she was as stubborn as a mule, but I wouldn't stop until she could close her eyes for at least five minutes.

—Let's make a deal, ¿okay? I need to sleep now. I'll give you three hours to do everything, and if you're not in my bed with me by 9, I'll come looking for you— I pointed at her sternly.

She gave me a dirty look, but she nodded anyway, just in time to hear the whole group starting to get up because the sun was already high in the sky.

I left Judith in Carol's arms before walking to my cell and collapsing onto the lousy bed to grab a couple of branches that weren't yet arrows to distract myself, waiting for her to come to my arms. Calculating the time with a tap of my foot against the wall and in my mind, counting the seconds and minutes like a clock.

I knew the three hours had passed because no one was in the dining area, and everyone was scattered with papers in their hands. It seemed like everyone had agreed to try Kat's idea, even if they didn't understand her handwriting or the concept, judging by the confusion on their faces, like Glenn's.

I was about to get up heavily and my eyes barely open, but I saw her walking tiredly to my cell.

—40 minutes, just that, Glenn's going to come wake me up because I know he won't have any compassion if I get mad at him for letting me sleep longer—she nestled into my chest as if it were her pillow and wrapped her arms around my neck.

—You and Maggie have the poor guy trapped between a rock and a hard place—I said with laughter in my voice, closing my eyes and enjoying her weight on my body.

I chuckled before feeling her lips on mine and then resting her head against my neck, my hands on her waist resting as if it were my home between the worn seams of her jeans and the little skin left exposed by the short shirt she was wearing.

Hello, I hope you like it and that you can give it a like or reblog to reach more people. English is not my native language, so if there is any mistake, please let me know respectfully <3

Daryl's Three favorite memories.

1-

Daryl Dixon might be a very closed off person with a receptive but unfriendly personality, but even with his bad attitude or rude way of relating to his surroundings, he somehow managed to hit the jackpot amidst the walking dead and the pain.

Katherine Sánchez, the girl he met on the farm, was different from the prejudices that he had already placed on her shoulders. To think that just because of her last name or her millionaire family in New York that she would be a privileged and stupid girl was far from who she was, and one of the first nights we were all together, she could see it.

—I never said being a drug addict is a good thing, don't put words in my mouth. I'm just criticizing how you think people become addicts. It's a Disney fantasy to say 'bad people are addicts' or 'people with no future' because it's false and totally uninformed, especially for a cop. Did you know that overprescribing opioids for every damn physical problem created an entire generation of addicts, right?—Kat asked Shane as she took a long sip from the bottle of red wine.

We were all sitting around a campfire in front of Hershel's house; he was inside sleeping while his daughters, except for Beth who was inside, were outside with us. Kat was next to Maggie, who was glued to Glenn, and that made me laugh because his red face from alcohol and skin-to-skin contact with that girl made him look like a tomato. But I stopped making fun of him to listen to the conversation.

—That's what liberals say, it's the only future, more or less with money or without money, for low-income people and a very normal reality for them, girl. ¿Have you ever seen what those neighborhoods are like?—He asked her, looking at her seriously.

—No, but if you put two neurons together, people addicted to opioids, after they stop using them because they couldn't get them anymore and the authorities shut them down instead of helping them because, I repeat, THEY CAUSED THE PROBLEM they'll seek that feeling elsewhere and end up in those neighborhoods. People with incredible futures or normal people who, I don't know, break a leg, for example, end up dead from using crack or steroids.

—¿And what about the people who sell them? Drug traffickers and distributors, what happens to them? Are they good people for giving them what they need? Because I'm pretty sure those types of people aren't normal or people who got into that million-dollar business that takes lives just because they broke their damn legs or something. —Shane responded.

She sighed heavily as she shook her head. I straightened up and stopped leaning against the tree to look at her; the whole group was silent as we watched them.

—And the economic problems of this shit society and monetary organization, plus the crises we go through, don't ring a bell to you? It's much easier to sell drugs without experience than to get another job. Plus, it pays the bills and supports families, but in the same way, it discards people as if they were nothing, since putting drug dealers in prison doesn't achieve anything because it's a whole organization.

—Maybe you have a point in that, but anyway, it's better to lock up a person than to let them go when they do something against the law.

—¿And what about helping them? You were supposed to be a cop and "help people." ¿Do you think these people were there by their own choice? ¿Do you think they woke up one day and said, 'I want to sell drugs'? This isn't like Breaking Bad.

—Girl, I'm a cop, not the president. I just lock up the bad people and save the good ones. End of story.

—That's very black and white, and life isn't like that. We're gray; you can't lock people up just because they resorted to the last thing they had to feed their families. And believe me, I know you're a cop, and not much can be done, but that's where morality comes in, or thinking with your head instead of brutality. ¿Why not help people for something better and dismantle organizations? Or something simpler, ¿instead of locking up drug-addicted people on the street, take them to a hospital or clinics? Something that actually helps them.

—Why does it bother you so much, girl? I just made a joke, and everyone laughed. ¿Can't you just laugh and forget?

—No, because that's not right, since from your privileged and problem-free point of view, you think only bad people among the poor are addicts and will end up living under a damn bridge. But it's not like that. I know I was very, very privileged in life before all this shit happened, even with that, with not lacking anything and never having to worry about money, I ended up in the same boat as the addicts.

I raised an eyebrow at that; it was odd for a privileged person to defend my previous usual situation with my brother or my neighborhood, but now everything closed when she said that.

—¿To what?" I asked her seriously, leaning my elbows against my knees.

—Adderall and antipsychotics. Now I'm fine because it was like a year ago, but anyway, he can't be such a bastard to say that, and it surprises me that he's a cop, although I don't know why I do it since cops are fucking shit—she said, getting up and taking the half-empty bottle with her.

We all stopped looking at her when she disappeared into the darkness to look at Maggie, her friend since they were kids.

—Her parents pressured her to be perfect in everything she did, so she pretended to have ADHD and schizophrenia in front of a psychiatrist to get those prescribed medications after coming to the conclusion that being at the top of success cost a price. She stopped her pills when I found out, and we noticed that it was killing her, but it's still a recent wound, and besides, Kat has always been an advocate for the poor—Maggie explained as she took a long sip of water, looking at the fire.

I got up from the ground and walked the same steps where Kat's body had gone, leaving me standing in the middle of the backyard near the barn, watching her from afar sitting against the poorly painted and old wooden planks at the back with her legs to her chest and continuously taking sips while looking at the moon.

—For a mommy and daddy's girl, you turned out pretty real—I said as I approached her.

—It doesn't matter who provides you with sperm or who gives birth to you; What matters is who raises you and with what mentality those people show you the world— her gaze never left the moon

—¿Butlers and nannies?

—Workers like cooks or cleaners, my mother's assistant and just a nanny. All immigrants because 'people from difficult countries create workers who don't complain', according to my parents—she said with disgust in his voice. —I don't agree at all with what my parents did or with what they thought they had in their heads, besides it seems shitty to me that those people raised me and never had good pay for their extra work.

—The black sheep of the family, it seems—I said with a laugh in my voice.

—My parents' favorite, in case you didn't notice—the sarcasm in her voice made me laugh.

We stayed silent for a long time, both of us looking at the clear sky, enjoying the cold air.

—My brother was an addict, but he was a bad person.

—¿Didn't he make it out?

—¿Get here? No, he was even in the group before he came here and remained an addict. The pills Glenn brought were his.

—¿Did he become one of those bastards or did he go out as a lone wolf?

I chuckled at the latter.

—Rick handcuffed him to the roof of a building, and when I went to look for him, he had cut off his hand to escape — I said as I grabbed the bottle and took a long swig.

—Police brutality doesn't even wane in an apocalypse, it's not surprising, to be honest — her lips pursed.

—I don't know if he's alive, but at least I know that only one Dixon kills another Dixon.

—My father told me that once, only a Sanchez can bring down another Sanchez. He was talking about our empire as the second-largest bank in the United States and our generational wealth, but I think it applies.

We both fell silent, staring at the stars and the moon with the empty bottle between us.

Daryl thought a lot about that memory when he was trapped by Negan, thinking about Kat and how they had thought the best thing that ever happened to him helped him not to think about the images of Glenn or the loud music that deafened him, he just kept reliving moments, but that was one of his favorites.

Hello, this is my first job, and I'm not a native English speaker, so if there's any mistake, please let me know respectfully, and I hope you like it <3

(I want to clarify that I am not an expert on the topic of drugs or anything related. Everything the character says is based on the research I conducted about reality. If there is anything wrong with the topics discussed, please let me know with all due respect so that I can avoid problems and prevent causing negative feelings for others who may feel attacked by the subject matter)