#but like blue and yellow almost killed everyone and no one did anythin-

[h3arts4cy-n]

"Possession"

honestly i didn't know what to do with the eyes sooo I just put two Os lol

honestlly red deserves so much better-

[cowgurrrl]

Okay this is soooo very out there in actual probability of this being logical but the idea of a pool in Jackson or like people are allowed to go out to lake or something or they dig a lake like idek but something that involves reader in a swimsuit and Joel like 😳 in public so maybe a lil bit of jealous Joel in there, I just think it would be so cute and fun and spicy and idek if this makes sense hahaha, I’m so sorry for being awful at explaining ideassss🤦‍♀️🤣

The Snake River actually runs through Jackson so it’s entirely plausible (yes, I did do research for this)

Surprise

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader

Author’s note: I didn’t go into this wanting to write smut but it happened and I don’t hate it?? Please be nice to me I’m just a girl

Summary: Joel has something planned for you [3.3k]

Warnings: language, murder jokes, Joel being a little insecure, Joel the Menace making a return, smut (18+ MINORS DNI), fingering, dirty talk, sex in a semi-public place??, almost getting caught, brief mention of a safe word

Joel Miller is not a spontaneous person. It was one of the first things you found out about him. He hates surprises almost as much as he hates planning them. He's someone who likes to know what's happening and when. He loves a plan. But he loves you more. 

Everyone has gone back to school, and the seasons are in a neverending battle of when one begins and the other ends. The hazy August heat permeates the windows of your house as you lie in bed, hiding from the sun and the rest of your responsibilities. This time of year makes you especially grateful for your early morning patrol shifts. You get to finish up your work before the world has the opportunity to finish preheating, and then the town is quiet after that, with people shuffling off to work or school. Maybe that's why Joel wanders into your shared bedroom with your backpacks in hand.

"Are you doin' anythin' for the rest of the day?" He asks, and you give him a confused look. 

"Besides waiting for our daughter to come home from school? No, I didn't have any major plans." You tease, and he rolls his eyes before tossing your bag at you. 

"Meet me downstairs in five minutes." He says.

"For what?"

"It's a surprise."

"Are you finally going to kill me?" You ask, and he scoffs.

"Honey, if I was gonna kill you, I woulda done it a long time ago."

"Fair point. Suspicion always points to the spouse first," you say, sitting up in bed. "Where are we going?"

"Does the word 'surprise' mean nothin' to you?" 

"Only when it's coming from your mouth."

"Downstairs. Five minutes." He says, effectively ending the conversation by turning on his heels and walking away. You groan in protest but get up anyways. If it's something he planned, it's probably worth getting out of bed for. Still, you shuffle your feet lazily as you put more distance between yourself and an afternoon nap. 

He's almost giddy as you walk out of the house and into the blaring sunshine. Ellie still has a few more hours of school left, and even then, she's gotten over you and Joel walking her to and from class. She's becoming more independent as she gets older, which is fine, but seeing her not need you as much hurts. You talk about it on the way to wherever you're going. Joel says he's noticed the same thing but doesn't want to pry too much and risk being labeled "uncool." You have to literally bite your tongue to keep from asking when he was ever cool. 

When you're far enough outside Jackson's walls, Joel grabs your hand and intertwines your fingers, swinging them a little as you walk through the fields. Rock jasmines and asters shake in the window around you, painting the world in shades of white, blue, pink, and yellow. Sometimes it's easy to forget just how beautiful Wyoming can be, but when vast meadows stretch out to the mountain slopes, and the sky is unbelievably clear, you remember. You look over at Joel with his long, graying hair and scruffy facial hair and smile. It's also easy to forget just how beautiful he can be with his gentle hands and crooked nose. He turns to meet your eyes, taking away your view of his side profile, and gives you a look.

"What?" He asks, and you shake your head. "You're starin'."

"I just like looking at you." You admit, making him scoff. Joel is probably the only person in this world who's unaware of how attractive he is. 

"Needa get your eyes checked." He mumbles under his breath. 

"Big talk coming from a man who refuses to wear his glasses even though he desperately needs them." 

"I don't desperately need 'em." 

"Really?" You ask, and he hums. You lift your free hand away from your body and hold up three fingers. "How many fingers am I holding up?" He tugs on the hand he's holding and pulls you against him until your chest collides with his. The wind gets knocked out of you, either because of the impact or because you can see all his freckles when you get this close to him. He smirks as he stares at you, glancing between your eyes and fingers.

"Three." He says easily, leaning in to kiss you. You move back enough to make him huff in annoyance.

"That's cheating." 

"Mm, I think it's called bein' resourceful."

"Is that right?" You ask, and he hums as he finally kisses you. You indulge him for a second or two before moving back again. "Could you really not see that far?" He sighs and mumbles your name, but you refuse to let it go. "Joel, if your vision's that bad, you need to be wearing them on patrol. I don't want you to make stupid mistakes because you can't see six feet in front of you."

"Look, I hear you. I do. I just..." he trails off, and you raise your eyebrows at him. "It's stupid." 

"Stupider than not wearing them at all?" You ask, and he rolls his eyes—the drama.

"They make me look old, okay? That's why I don't wanna wear 'em," he says. Once again, you have to bite your tongue to stop yourself from making a snide comment. "I'm already one of the oldest guys on patrol, and that's enough for the younger guys to make fun of me. If I start wearin' 'em on patrol, I'll never hear the end of it, especially from Tommy."

"You really care what they think about you?" You ask.

"No," he starts, but quickly shakes his head. "Yes. It didn't bother me, but then they started sayin' they didn't know what you see in an old buzzkill like me, and I just... I don't know." He says. You take a deep breath and wrap your arms around his neck. 

"Does this have anything to do with you suddenly planning surprises for me?" 

"I told you it was stupid." He avoids the question, but you still find an answer. He tries to hide his face in your shoulder, embarrassed, but your hands find his jaw and stop him.

"I don't think it's stupid. I think the other guys on patrol are stupid for saying that and making you think I'm anything but grossly in love with you. I think they don't know what the fuck they're talking about," you say, your thumb brushing against the patches in his beard. "And I think you don't realize just how hot you look wearing glasses," he scoffs, but you don't let him wiggle out of your grasp. "I'm being serious, Joel." You assert, and something behind his eyes shifts. 

"Really?" 

"Are you kidding me? It's, like, annoying how good they make you look," you say, and he smirks. "It's also sexy for you to try to stay alive. So, it's a win-win." He laughs, the sound making the sun shine a little brighter. 

"I mean, who am I to argue with my wife?" He asks, relenting, and you hum.

"Exactly," you say as you kiss him. It was supposed to be quick, a passing kiss to remind him you love him, but when you try to pull away, he's back on you. His big hands snake their way into your hair as he kisses you like he's drowning and trying to pull the air from you. The buzzing bees and chirping birds of the field disappear, and all you can do is hold him. His body is firm against yours, and the soft flannel of his shirt feels perfect beneath your palms. "Was my surprise making out in a meadow? That's pretty romantic, even for you, Joel." You ask as you break away to take a breath that's not his. He groans and rolls his head back to look at the cloudless sky.

"Almost forgot bout the surprise," he says, looking back at you. "You're distractin' me."

"What did I do?" You ask. He grabs your hand and starts leading you through the flowers.

"You were tryna use your woman powers on me."

"Please, explain to me what 'woman powers' you think I possess." 

"If you don't know, I can't tell you." He says like he's answering a riddle, and you laugh. The rest of the walk is spent hand-in-hand with his shoulder bumping yours occasionally as your feet walk over the summer grass. As soon as you hear water lapping over smooth rocks, you look at Joel, who pretends not to hear the same thing. He smiles when you hit the break in the trees, and the crystal water of the river sparkles in the sun. 

You've heard rumors about the water being safe to swim in, but you didn't trust it. Not that it mattered. You and Joel have swum in way dirtier water than the winding blue river in front of you. Still, you were sure that it was a set-up by Raiders. But now, with Joel by your side, in the daylight, it's taking everything in you to not jump in the water. "I thought it might be nice. Just the two of us." Joel says. You nod and rest your head on his shoulder, looping an arm under his and holding his bicep.

"It is nice," you agree. "But we don't own swimsuits," you say, immediately clocking the excited expression on his face. "You're a menace."

"What? I planned a very nice day for us, and I just... forgot we needed swimsuits."

"Oh, you forgot?" You ask, and he nods. 

"I told you, I'm an old man. I forget things easily." 

"Give me a break." You roll your eyes before letting go of his arm and walking over to a big tree. You bend down to take off your boots and socks, and Joel quickly follows suit. His eyes stick to you as you pull your shirt off your head, faded scars catching the sunlight. Once you're left in your bra and underwear, you pause and look at Joel. He's stripped down to just his underwear, too, and you have a full view of his broad frame. 

His muscular chest is littered with scars, some old and silver against his tan skin and others new and still raised and angry. Your favorite is from where he got caught under some fence a million years ago. It vaguely looks like a thunderbolt striking from his collarbone to his shoulder. You can see the goosebumps rising on his thick biceps from where you're standing. His hands are relaxed and open at his sides, visible veins thrumming blood through his body. His belly has rounded just a little since you've settled in Jackson, something he grew insecure about while you reminded him every day that you loved the softness of his body. His strong thighs are a little paler than the rest of him, considering his patrol schedule in the summer, but they're still freckled and scarred like the rest of him. Your breath catches in your throat when he pulls down his underwear and stands fully naked in front of you.

I guess we're actually doing this, you think as you unclasp your bra. You leave your clothes in a pile under the tree before darting into the cold water together. He ducks his entire head under while you tread, letting yourself get used to the temperature and laughing when Joel comes up with a sharp gasp. "Oh, you think that's funny?" He asks before shaking his head in your direction, frigid water droplets landing on your skin. You shriek and splash at him to get him to stop. He splashes back, making huge swells with his arms, and you have to dive under to swim away. 

Once you call a truce on the water fight, you just swim together. You alternate between floating on your back, watching the clouds float by, and diving deep under the water to see what might be down there. After a few minutes, your bodies adjust to the water, and you can actually enjoy the river currents working against you. It reminds you of all the summers you spent in pools, the ocean, rivers, and lakes before the Outbreak. The memory presses on a familiar bruise in your chest, but it doesn't hurt. At least, not as much. Not when you're here with Joel, making new memories in a new world.

You swim over to where Joel is standing, his long curls touching the water as he looks up at the sky. You wrap your arms around his shoulders and your legs around his waist once you're close enough, and he meets your eyes with a smile. His hands grip your thighs and trace patterns into your skin, the warmth of his touch a welcome relief in the cold. You play with the hair at the nape of his neck as you stare at him. "This a good surprise?" He asks, his voice low in his chest, and you nod. 

"I like doing things like this with you," you say. "But I also don't want you to worry about keeping me interested in you," he sighs at your words but doesn't break away from you. "We've been together for years now. We went halfway across the country together. We have Ellie. You're it for me. I don't care what the younger guys on patrol have to say about it."

"You don't think I'm an old buzzkill?"

"Not all the time."

"Alright, smart ass." 

"I mean, I don't know a lot of buzzkills who go skinny-dipping with their wives."

"See? Gimme a little credit here." He says, pinching your thigh, and you laugh. As the sound dies in your throat, his gaze hangs heavily on you. Suddenly, you're all too aware of his sturdy body under you and his hands on you. You get a little closer to him, and his stomach brushes against your core. A quiet, shaky breath leaves you, and Joel hears it. His lips ghost over yours as his hand dips down, a deft finger grazing your clit. 

"Joel," you cry softly, clinging to him tighter when he presses a little harder. He shushes you as his middle finger ventures lower and just barely pushes into you. More. You need more, and he knows it. Asshole, you think to yourself, but your brain shuts off when he inches a digit into you so fucking slowly. You can feel his smirk when he leans down to mouth at the column of your throat. 

"That good?" He rasps in your ear, and you nod as his hand adjusts to thumb at your clit. You jump a little at the molten pleasure pulsing through you. He chuckles lowly and nips at your earlobe. "I've barely touched you, honey, and I can already feel you squeezin' me." You can't even formulate a response once he starts moving. The slow drag of his finger against your walls is enough to drive any sane person insane. You whine when he pushes another into you and claw at his shoulders. 

Your heart is fast against his chest. Everything you breathe, hear, and feel is Joel. You can't think about anything other than the weight of his hand working you over in the broad fucking daylight. You're close enough to the shore that anyone would be able to see you, but you hope you just look like a clingy couple enjoying a mid-day swim. It's a long shot, especially since he's mumbling absolutely filthy things to you. "You always sound so damn pretty." "Gonna let me fuck you like this?" "You're so good for me, baby." Every syllable makes you feel like you're burning from the inside out. His fingers languidly move in and out of you like he has nothing better to do before stopping completely, and you whine in protest.

"You're f," your sentence breaks off when he quickens suddenly. 

"What was that, sweetheart? Where's that smart mouth now?" He asks. Your hips start moving in time with his ministrations, and he watches you like a man starved. You can feel yourself getting closer and closer as his fingers move faster inside you. You think your blood is thundering through your ears as bliss overtakes your senses, but you quickly realize it's hooves. You don't know if Joel hears it, but if he does, he doesn't stop. 

"Joel, I think, fuck," he rubs at your clit with more fervor, making you see stars. "Someone's coming." You breathe, and his teeth scrape under your jaw. It's all too much. You moan and drop your head to his shoulder, losing all motivation to get him to stop.

"You gonna come for me?" He asks, and you nod. "C'mon, I know you can do it. Come for me." He hooks his fingers, nudging that spongy part inside you, and that's all it takes. Your mouth falls open, and fuzziness takes over your senses. You hold Joel closer as he works you through your orgasm with encouraging words and gentle strokes. Finally, you have to reach for his wrist to stop because you're so overstimulated, and he would live between your thighs if he could.

"Y'all alright?" A voice comes out of nowhere, and you jump. You and Joel turn to see one of the patrolmen from Jackson, James, on his horse a few hundred yards away. He's far enough away that he wouldn't be able to see you're both naked, but he can clearly see your clothes and backpacks on the shoreline. 

"Yeah, we're alright. Just... havin' ourselves a date." Joel says, his voice annoyingly even. James looks confused, so you nod in agreement even though Joel still has two fingers knuckle-deep inside you. If he doesn't kill you, embarrassment just might.

"Well, then," James says awkwardly. "Y'all don't stay out too long. Maria'll have your ass if y'all come back hurt or somethin'." Joel shifts his hand as he nods, and you choke on a moan but try to play it off as a cough. Still, James gives you a look. "You good?"

"Yeah, are you alright, honey?" Joel asks in a mocking tone. You grit your teeth and dig your nails into his arm before nodding at James.

"All good. Just had a little tickle. We'll start heading back to town now. Thanks for checking on us." You quickly dismiss the patrolman, who is more than happy to get the hell out of Dodge. Even if he didn't suspect anything was happening, you know he's terrified of you and Joel. His ideal patrol is not having to deal with either of you and now he just got the whole package plus some. As soon as he's out of earshot, you smack Joel's arm. 

"Are you fucking insane? He could've heard us!"

"Us? I'm not the one who was screamin'!"

"Okay, first of all," you start, holding up one finger. "I was not screaming. Second of all, I told you someone was coming, and you kept going!" He doesn't exactly look apologetic, but then again, you're not really mad.

"You know the safe word just as well as I do, sweetheart. I woulda stopped if you said it," he says, and you sigh. He's right. You hate it, but he's right. You try to hide your smile and shake your head as he kisses you. Slowly, he pulls his fingers from you, swallowing your over-sensitive whines down with gentle licks. A stupid thought wiggles its way into your brain, and you laugh against Joel's lips. Once you start, you can't stop, and Joel looks at you like you're a crazy person. "Now, what is so goddamn funny?" He asks, and you compose yourself enough to look at him.

"Think they'll still tease you over being old after you just made your wife come faster than they ever could?" 

[bensubcon]

[easnuppa]

The Cave

A little one shot I was requested to write, I hope you all like it. 

A hugh thanks to @of-storms-and-sadness for beta reading, you are awsome girl! 

You stumbled as you got up to your feet. It was dark, pitch black in fact. You couldn’t see your hand in front of you, even with how hard you tried to. You reached out and tried to feel your way around. Sharp rocks met your sensitive fingertips. You felt dizzy and you knew that you probably had a concussion. You sat down on the sandy ground and pushed your hair out of your face and tried to think back and figure out what happened.

You remembered Carol’s frantic chase through the woods. She had seen Alpha and was dead set that now was the day that the evil woman was going to die. The only reason you had joined this mission was to show your support and maybe make it clear to the man your heart was beating wildly for, that you were worth his time. Carol was important to Daryl, and Daryl was the only reason you were still breathing. You had felt this way from the first moment you laid eyes on him. Not only had you been knocked off your feet by his strikingly good looks, but you had soon discovered that his heart was as pure and good as it could be. The only problem was that he didn’t seem to notice you. At least not in the way you would like him too. You knew he cared about you, but that was how Daryl was, he cared about his family, and you were a part of that family. You had been with the group from before the prison fell. You had lost track of how many years it had been.

You had tried different things to show Daryl how much you really cared for him. Every time you went out on a run you had been on the lookout for weapons or bolts for him to use. As soon as you all arrived at Alexandria and Daryl had started working on his bike in Aaron’s garage you were constantly searching for bike parts that he might use. Daryl never saw your attempts to get closer to him the way they were meant. He looked at you the same way he looked at Carol, Rick, Maggie, or any of your other family members.

 You inhaled shakily; the air was filled with dust but not as much as you would recon it would be from the explosion. The explosion inside the cave that you all had crept through, the explosion Carol had caused. Everything had happened so fast, you were all trying to get out, walkers and whisperers had been on your tail. You had all been fighting for your lives. Then, almost like it was god sent, you had spotted the small hole in the rocky roof above your head. You could feel the draft of fresh air against your skin and you had guided the group to where the entrance to freedom was.

At some point the cave had started to give in from where you all had made the exit hole bigger, your companions had tried to help everyone out while trying to hold the roof of the cave steady, but Carol had disappeared and you knew Daryl would never leave the cave without his best friend. Daryl had wanted to run after her, but you had stopped him, and told him that you would go, you would find her and bring her to safety. Daryl knew you were a strong and capable fighter and that you could handle your own, you had proved that time and time again throughout the years.

 You had searched through the cave the way you had come. Your hand gripping the torch Daryl gave you before you walked back into the maze of rocks. You must have taken the wrong way at some point because suddenly you could not hear anything, it was like all sound and air was sucked out. It was then the explosion happened. You felt the ground shake underneath you; the rumble was echoing through the halls. You knew you were in trouble, you had turned and blindly sprinted back to the entrance, but you were knocked off your feet and as you fell you felt a sharp pain at your temple and then everything had gone black.

Now you were sitting there in the dark with a splitting headache, confused and disoriented. How the hell were you going to get out?

Your hands searched over your body, at least nothing was broken. Your body felt sore as all hell, and you figured you had a gash that was seeping blood from the sticky substance that met your fingertips, but you were alive. A fact that would not be true for long if you did not get out. You got down to all four and started crawling. You cursed as your hands and knees bumped against sharp rocks and pebbles. If you got out, you were going to have a serious talk with Carol. Enough was enough. You could only imagine the pain she felt after losing her adoptive son to Alpha, but for months she had acted reckless, and put the rest of your group members in danger. She had put Daryl in danger and that was not something you could accept any longer.

 Daryl rolled around and jumped to his feet. He started climbing the pile of rocks that now was covering the group’s escape route.

 «Help me get these rocks out of the way, we need to go back and find ‘er, » his voice broke as he desperately started to throw the heavy rocks to the side. He felt Aaron’s hand on his shoulder, and he peered over his shoulder at his friend with wide frantic eyes.

«There’s no way she would have survived that explosion, the roof of the cave gave in from it, » Aaron gently said with sorrow filled eyes, but Daryl would not accept that for a  fact. You had been a part of his life, his family, for so many years. He could not imagine you not being around. He couldn’t imagine not seeing your beautiful smile, feel your gentle touch or hear your soft voice as you spoke. He needed you, he cared about you. For years he had known that he probably cared about you more than he should, more than you would welcome. You had stolen his heart, but he had been a coward and not found the guts to tell you. He regretted his decision to stay quiet now, who cares if you didn’t return his feelings, it didn’t matter, what mattered was that at least you would know that you meant the world to him.

 «Daryl, we all know how much you care about her, but you need to let it go. This place will soon crawl with walkers. The sound will attract them from miles away. We need to go back home, » Aaron continued, and Daryl knew he was right. Digging through this pile of rocks was useless, he needed to find another entrance. He climbed down and grabbed his bow. He felt someone grip his arm and he violently turned towards Carol who was standing in front of him. Her eyes were pooling over and her lip quivering.

 «Daryl please, I didn’t mean for her to get harmed. »

Daryl shook his arm free from Carol’s grip and took a step back, scowling at the woman he had considered to be his best friend almost since it all started. The woman who he had thought had his back through everything. He now realized that Carol was too far gone at this point. Her thirst for vengeance had drawn a gap between the two of them. A gap that probably would never be possible to fill.

 «Don’t touch me, » he snarled out, «ya knew how much she means to me. She went back for ya! (y/n) would never let anythin’ happen to ya! That’s how she is! ‘er blood is on yer hands. This ridiculous need ya got to bring down Alpha gotta stop! It is putting everyone in our family in danger! »

Daryl turned to Aaron. «Bring everyone back to Alexandria! »

Aaron nodded, but his eyes were filled with unspoken questions. Daryl knew exactly what his friend was silently asking.

«I’m gonna look for another entrance. Even if she were killed in the explosion, I need to find ‘er and bring ‘er home. I ain’t gonna leave ‘er to turn under a pile of rocks. She would do the same for me, for all of ya’ll. » The lump in his throat that threatened to choke him made his voice break once more and he felt his eyes well up. He turned away from everyone and wiped the back of his hand over his eyes. Just thinking that you were no longer breathing was too painful.

He forced his legs to move. One foot in front of the other. It was almost an impossible task, but he needed to find you and bring you home. He needed to bury your body within Alexandria’s safe walls. You needed to be put to rest at the place where he had watched you blossom and thrive. Where your laughter had filled the streets, where you had seemed so carefree and happy…

  You felt the hunger claw at your stomach, the thirst was unbearable. How long had you been trapped in this darkness? It felt like an eternity and you still had not found your way out. You knew that your time was slowly running out. The dust you continued to inhale was making your throat and mouth feel like sandpaper. You had at some point started talking to yourself, trying to encourage yourself not to give up, that you were going to make it. In a short time you would find yourself lying in your bed back home, safe, clean, and well fed. The dust and the lack of water had made your voice hoarse until it stopped working completely. You were so tired. Your body was aching and heavy. Your eyelids felt like bricks that threatened to trap you into darkness forever. At one point you had given in and your body had collapsed onto the floor where you had surrendered to the peaceful sleep that you thought would last forever.

  Two and a half days had gone by since the cave had collapsed but Daryl had not stopped searching for you, he could not give up. He had been back at Alexandria to stock up with water, food and flashlights and continued the search. As he moved through the humid caves it felt like your voice was calling on him. It was almost like his heart led him through the narrow halls.

The light from his flashlight lit up the dusty ground, his strides had been hurried until he stopped dead in his tracks. There in front of him, lit up by the yellow light from his flashlight his eyes landed on your blue top. It had been your favorite, he knew because, even how worn and torn it was, you still seemed to wear it all the time. He hurried over to your limp body, whispering your name over and over like it would bring you back if he repeated it enough times. He turned you over to your back. Your body was limp, and your skin was covered with dirt and sot, still you were as beautiful as ever. His hands shakily cupped your face. Your skin felt cold to the touch. His fingers traced your skin down to your throat, frantically searching for a pulse. Could he feel a weak throbbing or was it just wishful thinking? He grabbed his backpack and tore it open, fishing out a water bottle. He uncapped it and lifted your head and parted your lips

«c’mon girl, don’t ya give up on me now. I’ve got ya! » he rasped out as he slowly started tilting the bottle. He could feel his hand getting soaked from the water spilling over your lips, trailing down your cheek and onto his hand. He needed to get you out. You had been so brave; you had almost made it out. Daryl had stumbled over an entrance only a couple of hours ago and his gut feeling had told him that this was it. He shouldered his backpack again and lifted you up. He needed to get you out, out into the sunlight where he could see if you were still breathing or if it was just his imagination. He jogged through the narrow halls. It felt like he was holding his breath until he reached the entrance and he took a step out into the fresh air. He sunk to his knees with you still in his arms. He pushed your hair out of your face and stared at you.

«C’mon (y/n), I can’t lose ya. I need to tell ya somethin’ I should’ve told ya a long time ago, » he forced his voice to work. It broke into sobs several times, but he needed to let you know. You could not leave this world without knowing.

«I love ya (y/n), I have for years, and I’ve been an idiot for not tellin’ ya. You’re beautiful sparklin’ eyes and yer pretty smile have been my only reason to get up in the mornin’. How can I go on without seein’ ya every day? Ya need to stay with me! » He felt the tears making his cheeks wet. He leaned over your limp body and he pressed his forehead against your chest. Inhaling your familiar scent. «Don’t leave me (y/n), I can’t go on without ya, » he continued to sob.

  It was so weird. You heard a faint calling in the distance and you felt your face heat up from a bright light. Something or someone was tugging on you. How could you feel all these things if you were dead? How could you form a thought if you were a walker?

Your senses sharpened as you started to regain consciousness and then you heard it again. The same raspy thick southern drawl that you loved so much. Your eyes fluttered open and you stared right into the light blue sky. How could that be? When you had closed your eyes, you had been surrounded by darkness. It had swallowed you and you had given up on the thought of ever seeing daylight again. You tried to will your limbs to move. Suddenly a face you loved so much blocked out the clear blue sky and you stared into a pair of blue pools that always made your heart skip a beat.

«(y/n)? » you heard that raspy voice say. You tried to form a word, a sound, anything, but your mouth opened and closed like a fish on land. Your lips chapped and dry. Something cold was pressed against your sore lips and soon your mouth was filled with cold water. You swallowed and gulped, and you felt the water tickle your skin as it trickled down your neck, where you coughed what you could not swallow.

«Daryl?» you asked and his blue eyes locked with yours.

«I’m ‘ere girl, don’t speak, I’ll get ya home. »

You felt how he was about to move away so you grabbed him. Even if your grip was weak it stilled his movements. «I thought I was never going to see you again, » you whispered. Daryl tried to shush you again, but you needed to get something off your chest. Something you should have shared with him a long time ago.

«I love you, Daryl, » you continued to whisper. If you were going to die, then at least he would know how you felt, how you had always felt about him. You felt his movements still for a moment. Your eyes were searching his for any type of reaction. His blue orbs softened, and you felt him lean over you and press his lips against yours. The kiss was gentle and so soft that for a second you thought you had just imagined it happening. The next words that were mumbled against your lips though, they took your breath away. Those were words you had never thought you would ever hear from those same lips that had been pressed against yours just seconds ago. Those words were the reason you had been fighting through the dark tunnels. The hope that had led you to this very moment.

«I love ya too (y/n), always have. »

Now you knew that everything was going to be alright. You could fight to survive; you could make it through. You had his heart and it would give you the strength to take on anything.

[rustdream]

@joeyydrawss​

This is based off of one line about the dark clone gang being villains in cragtworld.

First, as a writing warm up, a shart drabble)

 "But, why DO we have have names like that?" The pale Cyclops spoke up, as she tightened the ropes around Sack thing. Her question was met with an awkward silence, before Dark!Rain wandered. "What do you mean? What's wrong with 'fe names, Ima?" Her cracked eye met the her colleague's leaking black ones, a small feeling of confusion placed in her mind. After all, she hadn't anticipated having to explain her question. She had only snapped out of her thoughts as she tried to walk towards the brown cloaked girl, before noticing that she had tied her hands to the ropes. How embarrassing. The two others in the room didn't seem to judge though, as their hostage was rightfully afraid. Why their leader suggested this was beyond her. "Well, I mean, it seems weird to call ourselves. Well, now that I say it it sounds like something to tell Joey about." She finally got free, though her hands hurt from tugging on the ropes so hard. Before DRain could speak up, DIma continued, "C-cause, it's understandable that YOU would calk yourself Rain, cause you ARE her!" DRain nodded in agreement, a smug smirk worming its way into her face. "And me, Ima is technically my name, all that I remember from my legal name. But what about Joey? He utterly HATES his other self, so it seems weird."

"Well...ah, ya got me here. If ya want, we can go ask him."

"What if he gets angry?"

"Ill take tha fall for it. Even then it's just a question. How bad can that be?"

 And so the two left the room, as Sack thing noticed that the ropes have become looser from the tugging. Now all they had to do was plan an escape.

Real story under here/

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

|another random one: context, what if ADITLOF was affect by the dark clone crew|

The gang could only stare in confusion as Rain and Ima struggled to get out of the guards grasp, while Newton was talking to strange man with some fish on his head. Bill almost chuckled at hearing Wheatley comment on this. "Well, this trip could have gone better." "I don't see how it can. I'd love to hear Rain use her 'freindly charm' on this." He was shot a mean glare, which was meet with an eye roll. He decided to look away from Rain desperately explaining herself, as he overheard Mewton's conversation with the man.

"I can't believe you've associated with criminals now, first the titans now this-."

"I-its not like that. Papa! I-"

"Well the way you've avoided us I doubt you was bringing them in."

"Because they haven't done anything wrong, they don't deserve prison!"

"While I can't say the same about the rest of them, THOSE two," He shot a horrid glare directly at Ima, how got as close to Rain as she could, who was speaking, while tearing something off her shirt," are wanted criminals. Thousands of crimes are on their hands, Newton. How can you defend them?"

"Rain and Ima, they would never do this! They're my friends, Papa, a-at least let them prove that they didn't do anythin-"

"THE ONE EYED ONE HAS A WEAPON!" The two guards bellowed, pulling everyone's attention to Ima, who had a pin in her hand. "T-this isn't a weapon, just a pin that was picking my skin! Also," she put it in her pocket, a look of what Bill could only place as offended unamesment. "why are we being accused of something that we didn't even do, if this is our first time coming here?" Rain added on, "Not to mention...what DID we do?" A long pause, as Newton gestures, a brief look of triumph in his eyes. Until he saw the stern, angered look in his father's face. The older sackperson slowly walked towards the girl, the guards letting her go. "Oh, I'm sorry, but you've been here before." Rain backed away, Ima still standing there, silent.

Compared to her, he was really tall. To tell you the truth, Ima sort of regretted saying that now. "Ima, is it? Let's see, you've destroyed many, many cities and towns in Craftworld, terrorized Bunkum, KIDNAPPED and endangered a CREATIR CURATOR, and that's only before you've meet you ACCOMPLICE Rain. Who is the reason Manglewood is stuck in a large area of tar, endangered MILLIONS in the act- MAY I GO ON!?" His tone reached a new level that Newton hadn't though of before. In fact, he even had to be held back by the younger man to prevent him from pummeling the girl into the ground. The two girls were taken aback- the whole group was. Rain, a villain? She's a hero, the kindest person ever! Even if it annoyed Bill to no end. And Ima... actually, Both Bill and Ima seemed to consider the notion that she might have done those things before. It was nigh improbable, but still.

"but, we didn't do those things." Was all Rain could muster, still shocked at the man sudden change in behavior. Newton was pushed away as the two guards were attempted to pull him back as Newton had. "DO YOU REALLY THINK," The two friends now where close together, unsure of why this was happening, they haven't done anything wrong, "I'M STUPID ENOUGH TO ACTUALLY BELIEVE ANY WORD YOU SA-" Suddenly, an explosion could be heard, as a piece of debris came between the man and the two girls, causing him to stop, and the group to panic. Almost stumbling to the ground, Bill managed to get a glance at the three people through the smoke. The first thing he could notice, where how two of them had an almost likeness to Rain and Ima, the only differences were Tue Rain clones black eyes and brown jacket, and the how the air around the other clone seemed off. Dark, suffocating cold. As it would sometimes become when Ima entered. Though her skin was a sickly pale, and her screen was cracked. Before he could even look at the third one, they closed in, the other Rain holding the odd man by the throat with a black liquid, and another one, a person he had never seen before, pinning him against a wall, with weapons threatening another group of people.

 That only left the third one, who seems to have closed off all entrances and exits, before staying the the middle of the building, keeping an eye on every panicked person. The man struggled, as his son screamed. "Papa no-" thrown into a wall by the other Ima. "Listen up you fucking shits," the boy, who held his weapons tight, his red eyes scanning the room, started, "This. Is a holdup. And from now on, you're staying here until those hero twats come to rescue you. And if you try to leave, my freinds over there will kill you." He gestured to the two, who had tied most of the people in tar, with the other Ima looking over the rest, before Rain spoke up. "Wait a minute, bad language aside, WHI ARE YOU?" The boy threw a knife at Rain, cutting her cheek in the process, and cracking the glass floor it landing in. Storm seems to become uncomfortable in her reflection, as the cracks ran a little. The boy smirked. "I guess an introduction is only complimentary. I'm Joey. Or Dark Joey of you prefer, I dont really care." Joey smirked as he pointed at the other two. "The one with the tar is Dark Rain, and the other is Ima."

Rain immediately answered. "Hey wait a minute, you. Is your name Rain N Thirteen?" The clone frowned. "Yeah, why ya askin'?"

"Cause that's MY name."

"Wot?" The clone looked rain up and down, her frown only growing. "Huh, I didn't know I had a fan, a little tip lady. I ditched tha blue coat long ago. Got real bloody."

"No, you don't understand. My legal name 's Rain. So what your saying isn't true."

"O ho! Look Joey, A've got meself a faker, just like tha blue spiked dork."

"If anything your the faker."

"No, you."

Joey scoffed at his comrades stupid quarrel with this weirdo. Though, something about her reflection, the black soulless stare in them. It intrigued him. As he stomped on the yellow hair dweeb's chest to stop him from moving, he looked at Ima. "And what about You? Next ill be hearing that 'yoir the real Ima!'"  The girl stood a few feet from her double, who seemed to be almost crestfallen when their eyes locked. Almost as if she was remembering something. Suddenly, the double started to glitch in and out of reality, as it started to attempt to attack her. At least until a sharp object almost hit her square in the head. "Get your head in the fucking game. Come on, I'm holding these people at gunpoint here. Stop your childish squabbling and tie the rest up!"

After a good hour of fighting and bruises, they actually did it. What mad it harder was that Rain fakers apparent ability in fighting, and that other girl's freakish body manipulation. Seriously, seeing her body contrite under her skin, to grow two more grotesque arms, seeing her muscle tissue stretch and bleed to make weapons,, it was going to give Dark Rain nightmares! And not to mention Ima seemed to get more emotional in the presence of that other Ima, more evident in the way she flung her around while tied up. How she occasional kicked the other just for talking. Though, she couldn't blame her, she tied up her copy's mouth for god sake. As Joey was making his grand hammy speech as always, Rain put a hand on Ima's shoulder as she kicked the pink wearing double. "Ay. You alright there?" The other twitched as she turned to her, almost crying now. "I just want to tear her apart, she's not me, she can't be, he said that there wasn't any other-" Muffled by a hug, Rain's other arm shrugged. "Ay know, but she could be a faker, ah mean, we've got a faker over there." The clones muffled complaints went unheard. "Yeah..yeah! Y-you're right Rain! Your right. A faker..." The glitches girl was patted on the back. "Exactly! Come one, we've got a show to but on."

The two left the room, not noticing the claws breaking through the one eyed clones restraint. The duo walked out onto a platform, Joey making his evil hammy speech to his own faker, and the gang of Craftworld's hero's. "...And we will be victorious. For we are the Dark Heart Gang!"

"Wait a minute, that's a crappy name tho-"

[green-eyeddragonfanfiction]

Ghosts of War: Chapter 19

Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier x Reader Summary: After the events of Winter’s War, your and Bucky’s lives are changed forever (and not for the better). Severe torture and experimentation at the hands of Hydra leaves you shells of your former selves, your past together completely erased and replaced with deadly Hydra programming. Bucky asks you to do the unthinkable. You try your best to make money for the two of you to survive. Meanwhile, dark forces lurk in the shadows. Warnings: Swearing (always), suicide pact**, talk of suicide**, murder, death, violence, blood, guns, torture Word Count: ~4,060 A/N: oh shit boiiii. This chapter is a tough one. Don’t read it if you’re in a dark headspace my dudes.

Masterlist // Book One

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

Bucky ran a hand through your hair and shushed you. “No… but we did it, Doll. We did all of it,” he said gently. You didn’t sob or hiccup or gasp, but he somehow knew you’d begun crying. He leaned back to peer down at you then wiped away your tears with his right thumb. He placed kisses to each of your cheeks then hugged you back to his chest. “Let it out, Doll… no use bottlin’ it up. Not with me.”

You weren’t sure how long you cried in Bucky’s arms. You weren’t sure if he cried with you.

All you knew was that when you woke up the next morning with Bucky asleep by your side and daylight shining through the yellowed newspapers, the world didn’t feel quite so terrible as it did when you’d gone to sleep.

“Did you know about this?” you asked, dropping the stack of xeroxed papers onto Bucky’s lap. You were visiting him down at the docks between your shifts, during his short lunch break.

Normally you would have gone back to the apartment to avoid being out in public, but you’d been evicted not even a day ago. Multiple noise complaints from surrounding tenants prompted the landlord to kick you and Bucky out without a second thought, not that you could blame him. Between your and Bucky’s nightmares and the fact that you didn’t have proper paperwork, you were too much of a liability. Until you found a new place to live, you’d crash at different flophouses every night. Working would be tough until then, but both you and Bucky were determined to live some semblance of a normal life.

Bucky raised an eyebrow at you and leafed dutifully through the pages, eyebrows raising slowly as he read until you were sure they’d disappear into his hairline. By the time he was finished he had a small smile on his face that you couldn’t help but mirror. “I had no idea. I mean, I’d noticed there weren’t signs everywhere anymore, but I never imagined they’d actually do it... I’d always hoped, but...”

You smiled and took his head. “We were almost awake for it, too. It was in 1964. Do you think Gabe took part in the sit-ins and marches?” you asked, resting your head lightly on his shoulder. It was his metal one, but he had enough padding on between his jacket and shirt that it was still comfortable.

Bucky made a noncommittal noise in the back of his throat. “Dunno. Wouldn’t surprise me. If he did, I’m sure Dum Dum joined him in a show of solidarity.”

You nodded. “I can see that. I would have liked to hear Doctor King’s speech. I can’t find a full recording of it anywhere.”

Bucky nodded in commiseration. “Seemed like a good man.”

For a short while the two of you sat in silence, Bucky munching quietly away at a bowl of rice. “Is it bad that I’m relieved we weren’t the ones to pull the trigger for once?”

Bucky paused and swallowed thickly before setting the bowl down beside him on the bench and threw his arm around your shoulder, reeling you easily into his chest. “No, Doll. I know I’m pretty messed up in the head, but even I know we’re supposed to not enjoy killin’ people,” he said quietly, lips brushing light kisses to your hair.

You nodded slowly, thoughts drifting to dark places unbidden. You didn’t have much time left together; his break would be ending soon. 

“If they ever try to take me again, kill me.”

You looked up, startled by Bucky’s sudden words. “What?” you breathed, not wanting to believe your ears.

He looked at you then, his blue eyes cold and sad. “You heard me, Doll.”

“I can’t do that, Bucky,” you said, distressed.

He took your hands in his and suddenly that icy wall behind his eyes gave way to fiery passion. “You gotta, Doll. If they come for us you, gotta put a bullet in my head. Fry me. I don’t care. I can’t go back, (Y/N),” he pleaded, voice strained.

You gaped at him for a minute, unsure of what to say as tears filled your eyes. “You’re askin’ too much of me, Buck,” you whimpered.

Bucky pulled you into his chest and ran his big hand down your back soothingly. “I know, Doll. I know. But I don’t have a kill switch like you do. You can fry yourself, but if they get me pinned, I won’t be able to do anythin’. I can’t go back to bein’ their puppet, Sweetheart. Please, promise me,” he said fervently, refusing to back down.

It broke your heart, but you eventually nodded past the tears and hiccuping sobs. “Me too,” you managed to squeak out between sobs.

Bucky didn’t have to ask what you meant, he knew. He nodded silently and ran his fingers through your hair, his lips placing kisses to any spot on your face he could reach. “I love you, Doll,” he said quietly.

“I love you, too, Buck,” you said hoarsely.

“Oi, Hanson! Get your ass back to work! Break ended ten minutes ago and I ain’t paying you to sit around and kiss your girlfriend, ya damn flower child!”

The voice of Bucky’s boss echoed between the shipping containers and Bucky let out a long sigh. “Gotta get back to work, Doll,” he said, apologetic frown on his face.

“S’ok. Gotta get to my next job anyway,” you sniffled, clambering off of his lap reluctantly.

He stood as soon as he was able and pulled you in for a quick, chaste kiss on the lips that still managed to leave you breathless. “I’ll see you at the flophouse later, (Y/N). Have a good afternoon at work, alright Sweetheart?” he said with a small smile, as though you hadn’t just promised to kill him if the Soviets or Hydra came after you.

You put on a brave smile and pecked him once more on the cheek before handing him his unfinished lunch and the stack of papers on the Civil Rights Movement. “You too, Buck.”

You turned and walked briskly back towards the center of town, willing yourself not to cry.

Life wasn’t fair. You knew that from a young age. Ever since your parents dropped you off at the orphanage in Queens. Ever since you were rejected again and again from school after school just because you were a woman. When military leaders didn’t so much as give you a polite rejection when you tried to show them your designs. Hell, you never even made it past the secretaries most days. Even after meeting Peggy and finally getting your foot in the door, you still remained in Howard’s shadow. Howard himself may not have treated you badly, but no matter how hard he tried to give you credit for what you did, no one seemed to care.

And then, for that shining year and handful of months with the guys, everything had been a whirlwind. You got attention and praise as the only woman in the Howling Commandos. They made dolls of you, interviewed you with Steve and Bucky. People knew you were Bucky’s best girl and Steve’s friend. Everyone recognized your genius.

But then you fell off the train with Bucky and everything regressed to a new level of shit-tastic. You were put through hell and back and the fact you could walk down the street without murdering everyone in sight was to be praised. There were still some days where you couldn’t remember your name. Sometimes you called Bucky the Asset or the Soldier. He had his bad days, too, where he retreated in on himself until his eyes were hard and uncaring and you knew he didn’t see the world around him.

Bucky blamed himself for every death you and he dealt out while brainwashed by the Soviets and Hydra. He wrote down every name he could remember in a tiny notebook and took it with him everywhere.

You didn’t add to the names. You didn’t want to think about everyone you’d killed. You only added one name to the list: Mary Douglas. She was the only death you felt truly responsible for. Even Mila hadn’t been your fault, though you still mourned your inability to protect her to this day.

You arrived at the old abandoned-looking school building quicker than you realized, lost in thought as you were. The grafitti-covered sign for “Mother Josephine’s School for Wayward Children” swayed gently in the wind, the thick and once-beautifully carved sign barely hanging on by its nails. You glanced up and down the street before wiggling between a gap in the chain-link fence and made a beeline for the door in the back that you knew would be unlocked.

The door creaked loudly as you opened it and you quickly stepped inside before someone saw you. The first few hallways were dim, lit only by the meager light filtering in through the old, grimy windows. You didn’t have any trouble seeing, but it still set your nerves on edge. There were too many places to hide in this old death trap, but you'd run out of options some time ago.

You found the door to the basement with ease, having memorized the layout of the building off some old blueprints you’d found in the library before you’d showed up the first time. It also helped that you’d been here a few times already. You pulled your hat low over your eyes and made sure your boots and gloves hid your... enhancements.

The moment the door to the basement swung open, you were bathed in light. You took a deep breath and made your way down the creaky steps, half expecting them to give out under your weight. Metal limbs weren’t exactly light.

A dozen heads turned towards you the moment you took the last step off the stairs and only about half turned back to their conversations or drinks after looking their fill. You ignored them all and went up to the bar, taking a seat on one of the rickety stools.

“What do you got for me, Patch?” you asked in undertones.

Patch slid you a sealed beer, knowing full well you wouldn’t drink anything that could have possibly been tampered with. “Not much, little lady,” Patch said apologetically. “Not many of the jobs I have in right now are suitable for a single person... gifted though you may be,” Patch said quickly, seeing the look on your face.

“I can handle it, Patch. Tell me what jobs are in right now, please,” you said through gritted teeth before snapping the bottle cap off with one of your metal fingers and taking a long sip.

Patch sighed. “Couple of assassinations, mostly hits on goody-two-shoes that the Mob or Yakuza want dead but are unwilling to risk pinning on themselves. A guard detail, couple nights, needs a group to escort an entire convoy. A burglary of an old fat cat-”

“That one.”

Patch sighed and scratched his neck in the way he did whenever he was nervous. You didn’t think much of it; Patch was always nervous. “Knew you’d take that one. I gotta warn ya, little lady, that old man’s not someone you wanna tango with. He’s got top notch security and-”

“How much?” you asked, cutting across him again. He never second-guessed the other patrons like this and it grated on your nerves.

Patch let out a sigh, knowing he’d lose this fight as soon as he said the words. “$3,000.”

You let out a low whistle. “What’s the target? Vault? Jewels? Antiques?” you asked, interested in why someone would pay $3,000 to steal from a single house. Whatever they wanted had to be worth a lot.

Patch let out a sigh. “You know the deal. Details are in the card, can’t just tell everyone or there’ll be-”

“Problems, in-fighting, stupid shit. Yeah, I know, Patch. I’ll take it, whatever it is. I can handle it,” you said, thinking perhaps you cut across the man too much. You really, really hated being coddled though. Pissed you off to no end.

Patch gave you a long, flat stare before he sighed in defeat and reached for the stack of cards behind the bar and flipped through them until he found the right one. He held it out to you but pulled it back right as you were about to grab it. You glowered up at him but he didn’t even flinch. “Be careful, little lady. I like havin’ ya around and I know you’ll never see the light of day again if you get caught by this guy.” You would have snapped at him but his tone was nothing but sincere. You stared at him, caught off guard, before nodding slowly.

“I will, Patch.”

He still didn’t look happy, but relented and handed you the card. “You know the drill. Call the number. Complete the job. Return for the reward.”

You downed the last of the beer and slapped two dollars on the table. Sure, it was a bit much, but you were about to be rich. With that kind of reward you and Bucky could move into a nice apartment and not have to worry about money for a while.

Bucky.

You should tell him about this second job. You told him you worked at a bank crunching numbers all day, but you had a feeling he didn’t quite believe you. Still, he didn’t want to outright question you, so he kept his mouth shut, knowing you’d tell him when you were ready.

Being a mercenary/burglar-for-hire hadn’t exactly been the plan, but your skill set made you over-qualified and very, very good at it. This wasn’t the end-game, but you and Bucky needed the money right now, so you weren’t going to be picky.

You returned to the flop house and left a note for him at the front desk, saying you’d gotten a shift at a bar and that you’d be back very late or very early tomorrow morning and not to wait up. You didn’t want to leave him alone, knowing full well he barely slept when you weren’t there, but it’d be better to pull the heist off at night. You checked the charge in your back capacitors and, satisfied they’d last the night, began prepping for the operation.

Wrong.

Everything was wrong.

When you arrived at the house you were supposed to rob, it was almost completely empty. You hadn’t made it more than ten feet inside before you turned on your heel and ran back out the front door, only to find it blocked by at least a dozen agents decked out in combat gear.

Trap. It was a trap.

By the time you fought through the agents that had boxed you in, you’d taken at least three gunshots to the body and your left thigh was leaking blood all over the place from a knife cut. You could hear more agents surrounding the building, but you wouldn’t sit around and let yourself get trapped by these bastards. You still didn’t even know who they were working for, but that was something you’d find out later. New York wasn’t safe anymore. You had to get back to Bucky and escape before they tightened the noose.

For the first time in at least two weeks you activated your heel jets. The familiar feeling of your razor-sharp wheels popping into place sent a chill up your spine. Your hearing may not have been as advanced as Bucky’s but you were still able to pinpoint where most of the troops were coming from.

Swearing in your head you turned your jets on full blast and rocketed out the doorway, wincing as you felt gunfire hot on your tail.

You rounded the corner and took a small breath. You weren’t out of the woods yet, not by a long shot. Your stupidity had gotten your cover blown, but you doubted they’d found Bucky yet. If you could make it to him after losing these clowns, the two of you could be out of the city before they could sniff you out.

You heard Majorca was nice this time of year.

You took back alleys that you knew the military vehicles were too large to fit through, gave them the slip under bridges, and eventually made your way towards the flophouse in Brooklyn, praying you weren’t leading them straight to an unsuspecting Bucky.

You turned the corner and let out a sigh of relief when you spotted the building, only to scream in rage when you saw Bucky being dragged out by at least six agents in civilian police clothing. He was fighting against them, but they’d attached something to his arm and you could tell he was struggling to break it. From the way he was moving you wouldn’t be surprised if they’d drugged him already.

You raced forward more quickly than they could have anticipated and jumped, letting your momentum carry you forward as you switched from your wheels to your talons. A flying kick both maimed the first man and sent him hurtling over the nearest police cruiser.

“Fuck, get her! She’s insane!”

“They must have failed! Call for backup!”

You barely heard their voices, working through the throng of obviously-not-cops towards Bucky, who was looking at you with huge, pleading eyes.

“No!” you screamed at him, knowing what he was thinking. You always knew what he was thinking.

Please, you saw him mouth. His eyes were already going hazy. Whatever they’d given him must have been strong. The chances of you getting out of here with him knocked out before their backup arrived... they were nonexistent.

I love you, you saw him whisper before his head dropped forward.

You were crying as you ripped through the poor fools between you and Bucky. Still more seemed to stream out of who knew where, but you had a mission and you weren’t going to fail. You couldn’t let him down him. Not in this way.

Just one touch. Just one. Then me. Then it’s over.

You told repeated those words in your head over and over again and you punched, scratched, and kicked your ways towards Bucky’s limp body. They’d left him in the street in their attempt to stop you from getting to him. You were an unstoppable force. You could feel more bullets rip through you, but it didn’t matter. None of it matter as long as you could get to him.

Finally, there was only a few feet between him and you. You charged your right hand, tears overflowing as you looked down at the limp, unconscious form of the man you loved. It was a small mercy that he wouldn’t feel a thing.

You wouldn’t be so lucky.

The agents tried to stop you, only to electrocute themselves to death when they grabbed your arm.

You were so focused on making this one blow to your beloved count that you didn’t see the battering ram headed toward you until it was too late.

You felt your bones break on the impact and your lungs collapse as you flew ten feet through the air and landed on the cold cement road. Your head hit the concrete hard, your vision blurring dangerously with the mix of what was likely a concussion and massive blood loss. Your charge fizzled out in your hand and you cursed to yourself.

On your feet. Get on your feet. You useless piece of shit. You swore to yourself, trying and failing to pull yourself to your feet.

You got as far as leaning up on your hands and screaming in agony before they descended upon you like vultures. You barely felt the pinch of the needle being shoved into your neck; it paled in comparison to your other wounds.

What hurt the most, though, was seeing Bucky lying there, not fifteen feet away, unaware that you’d failed and you’d both wake up trapped in the nightmare you were so desperate to escape.

KGB files, Top Security Clearance, 29 March 1973

Little is known about what Codenames: Winter Soldier did during the two weeks they fell off the grid in New York. It was only through sheer luck that the male was spotted in a flophouse. The woman was spotted by one of our agents at a disreputable spot for mercenaries to gather. Luck. Sheer luck. We tried to lure her into a trap but she escaped, nearly overwhelming the agents that were attempting to take the male back at the same time.

Yet even after subsequent mental conditioning Codenames: Winter Soldier had no answers for their conduct, or any memory of their time out of our control.

While troubling, the incident appears to be an aberration, requiring nothing more than closer watch. It is further recommended that in future missions they be excluded from operations on American soil and deployed separately

KGB files, Top Security Clearance, September 1983 From the Personal Journal of Major General IIIIIIIREDACTEDIIIIIIII

Against advice, I have taken Codename: Winter Soldier to the Middle East as my personal bodyguard. I am getting old and I know there are only a few years left for me, so I wish to spend them watching this twisted creature defend my life.

I almost feel sorry for him, as he tenses up whenever anyone approaches, ready to dive in front of a bullet for me.

It will never make up for what he and his people did to me in the war, how they shamed me in front of my own men, but even after all these years, it still makes me smile to see Captain America’s partner serving Mother Russia.

It is doubly entertaining to watch him look for his little bitch. I could have thawed them both out and ignored the imbecilic warnings of the others, but it is more fun this way. He is easier to handle when he is sad, even if he doesn’t know why. I can see him looking for her, his eyes following women that resemble her.

Let us see what kind of damage he can do to his country’s efforts in the Middle East. These next few years should be amusing. I am glad that Yuri transferred me. To hell with him.

KGB files, Top Security Clearance, 4 August 1988

In accordance with Major General IIIIIIREDACTEDIIIIII final orders before his death, Project: Winter Soldiers have been returned to cryofreeze for the foreseeable future.

Codename: Winter Soldier (Male) has been placed back into stasis after his years in the Middle East alongside the Major General.

No incidents were reported by the Major General, but it is recommended that if Codename: Winter Soldiers are revived from stasis in future, thorough mental re-implantation be done to assure control of the operatives.

Codename: Winter Soldiers will be stored in an undisclosed location, along with much of Department X’s abandoned experiments.

December 14th, 1991

You sat. Waited for orders. Still as a statue.

You didn’t look at the asset beside you. He wasn’t important unless your handlers said he was.

Your metal legs glinted menacingly in the light, the sickle and hammer on your shins gleaming like blood.

You didn’t know how long you sat there, brain working to clear itself from the sluggishness of cryofreeze. Your body had thawed long before you’d regained consciousness, but it still moved like ice flowed through your veins. It would take a day to return to full functionality. You’d checked yourself over upon waking, taking note of each scar marring your skin.

The door opened after what could have been minutes, hours, or days. Time meant little in the tiny cold room with only a light and two cold tables. Neither you nor the other asset had said a word the entire time.

“Soldiers?” the handler asked, standing warily in the door. He had no cause to be nervous. You and the other asset were dangerous, but you wouldn’t hurt your handlers. His accent was German. Not the KGB, then. Hydra, most likely. You didn’t care, but your brain took note of it anyway. It might be important to the mission later.

“Ready to comply,” you and the other asset replied in unison, voices flat and emotionless.

Next Chapter

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[oliver-dash]

I was inspired to write a scene near the end of my novel at work today. I wanted to share.

And then, suddenly, it was Oliver that stood. There was a collective gasp, a soft murmur sent through the circle, Grace and Zelda simultaneously jumping to their feet to help steady him.

“Get off. Off. I’m fine.” He grumbled, a soft laugh in his voice. “I’ve been walkin’ for days. Off.”

They backed off but didn’t stray far, brows furrowed in nearly matching concern as he limped to the chair at the head of the group. Dr. Woods smiled softly at him, carefully sliding a leather guitar case over to him. I realized then that they had planned this.

And then Oliver began to speak in his soft, grumbling tone, the most I had ever heard him say. He told us that he was born to a mother who was fifteen and a father who was twenty-seven. He said they didn’t want a baby but his mother was scared to go to Hell because of her Catholic upbringing. He said she made this very clear to him. He said he didn’t remember much from his childhood. He remembered sleeping in a bare room on a mattress on the floor with a sheet. He remembered sneaking out of his room to grab scraps of food before sprinting back to his room because he’d get a beating if he was caught. He said he remembered the rotting wood of the front steps, the wallpaper peeling off the walls, the broken window in the back.

He most vividly remembered the physical, mental, verbal, and sexual abuse from the hands of his father.

“My mom was… is, I guess, an artist.” He supplied softly. “The house was full of her paintings and drawings and pottery. She came home one day with this… beautiful, and I mean that, beautiful vase she’d made. It was… yellow and blue and green and… I don’t know. I was eight. I was the most pretty damn thing I’d ever seen in this fuckin’ house that the sun didn’t even shine in. And I told her I thought it was pretty. And she smiled at me. And kissed my forehead. And then I woke up in the middle of the night and heard her car start up and she was gone. I still… don’t understand. I don’t know… I don’t know. I’m not gonna dwell on it. She had her chance to explain.”

A week after his mom left, his dad brought in this new woman who was heavily pregnant. She gave birth soon after to a little girl they named Catherine.

I exchanged a glance with Zelda at this. He’d never, not once, mentioned a little sister. Her expression made it clear to her that he hadn’t disclosed the information to her either.

“I hated her.” He said softly. “Because my dad and her mom loved her. They loved her so damn much. Baby talked her, hugged her, rocked her. She was quiet, hardly ever cried. And I hated her.” He took a deep, shaky breath before explaining how this woman, Catherine’s mother, hated him more than his own mother, how she’d hit him, throw things at him, lock him out of the house in the pouring rain.

“That’s how I found the church.” He shrugged. “It was storming and cold… This big building had all these people walking in so I snuck in with them and sat in the back. And I listened. I listened like they were telling me the damn meaning of life. I’d never been told about God and about Jesus, about Mary and Joseph.

“The collection plate came around and I started crying. I didn’t have anythin’ ta’ put in the plate and I thought they’d kick me out, that God and Jesus and Mary and Joseph would hate me for not being able to give them money. But there was literally nothin’ I could give them. I didn’t even have shoes.” He opened the guitar case with reverence, a sort of shine in his eyes. “The preacher came to me after the service and I told him why I was cryin’. I expected him to hit me or to yell at me – all adults did. But he got on his knees and hugged me and told me that God wanted my love, not my money, and that I had love in my heart. I asked him if God and Jesus loved me. He told me they loved me the most. And I went to church every Wednesday and every Sunday after that.”

He lifted the guitar strap over his shoulder.

“The preacher, Father Jacobs, is the one who taught me to play the guitar. He died when I was almost ten. Catherine’s mother died on my tenth birthday. She had pancreatic cancer. Father Jacobs was just… old. Very old.”

He gave a slow strum of the guitar, picking at the strings with expert movements.

“My dad disappeared. Was out every night, destroyed by the fact that she was dead. And one night, Cat, she was… right at two I think. She came up to me and tugged on my shirt.” He chuckled, clearing his throat, but the tears in his eyes were unmistakable. “She looked up and told me she was hungry. Called me bubby. And she had me wrapped around her finger from that moment on. I would have done anything for her. I found places that would pay me to mow grass or do small odd jobs just ta’ have a little money so she could eat. When I got older I worked three jobs to make sure she had food and clothes and could do dance and soccer and have a nice room and toys. I worked my ass off in football because I knew it was the only way I was going to go to college. I was damn good too. Set to be quarterback in my junior year.

“I… took beatin’s every night so he wouldn’t go in her room. Blamed it on fights. Everyone in town hated me because they thought I was just like my dad anyhow, so they believed it.

“I was fourteen and she was six when we found out that she had cancer.”

There was silence in the room at this point, not a word from anyone.

“Somethin’ in her lungs. She would… loose her breath and have seizures because she wasn’t getting enough oxygen to her brain. I got her medicine, made sure she took it, stopped eating so I could pay for chemo treatments. I worked at a diner and they would give me a meal there for free when they found out.

“She still played soccer and danced. She was the smartest kid in her class, had a high school reading level – I know, I went to the teacher-parent conferences.”

“But I was starting to… lose my grip. I couldn’t sleep, couldn’t keep down food. I was smoking five packs of cigarettes a day that I stole from the damn gas station, more if I could get my hands on it. I was failing out of my classes, got kicked off the team because of it. I was lashing out, gettin’ in fights… And then my dog died . Little hound dog pup I’d found abandoned when I was seven. Fat, lazy mongrel I named Scraps. My dad beat him next to death but didn’t kill him and… I had to put him down myself. And I… goddamn it, I fuckin’ loved that stupid dog. He’d run with me in the mornin’s for about five minutes before he’d collapse under a tree and whine until I fed him. And… after comin’ home to that, I … I kept havin’ nightmares that I’d come home and he’d have done the same to Cat. I knew I had to give her up, that I… I had to report my dad and let them take her in the system, maybe get emancipated myself.”

“I went to the police and reported him February 17.

“My sister died February 18.” These words were said so soft I almost didn’t hear them. “She had gotten so bad and… We didn’t have anymore of her medicine and… my dad had stolen all of my money. I had been runnin’ back and forth all day with her, tryin’ to get some. We gave it to her when the pharmacy tech gave in, but… but we waited too long and it was too bad. She died in my arms as I was drivin’ over a hundred to get to the ER. And I… completely lost my mind. I… tracked my dad down. Found him at a bar. Threw him to the ground, was gonna kill him. It was his fault. It is his fault she’s gone.

“But I couldn’t actually kill him. I realized what I was doin’ that if… if Cat knew what I was doin’ she’d… she’d a been so damn disappointed in me. And I couldn’t take that.”

Oliver said his dad stood as he stopped fighting, the bar cheering on the father trying to hit his own son, but it took Oliver too long to realize there was a knife in his hand. He turned to walk away, but his father stabbed Oliver in the stomach before he could. Oliver pushed him back in reflex, saying the pain wasn’t like anything he’d ever felt, even with the broken jaw and busted up hip. His father slipped, tripped over a stool, fell back, hit his head just right on the bar and stopped moving completely.

“I panicked after that. Ran. And then I blacked out. The next thing I remember is waking up in my truck somewhere in Tennessee, about an hour away from where I lived. And I just… didn’t stop. I kept runnin’. And I’ve been runnin’ ever since. But I don’t… I don’t want to anymore. I want to be better and… kinder. I want to be who my little sister… I want to be who Cat would have wanted me to be.”

He positioned his fingers on the strings.

“So now that I’ve told you my entire life story, I wanted to play my sister’s favorite song. She… always said it was about finding happiness when things seemed dark and… I don’t know. I feel like that… fits. I want to find happiness with who I am and who I can be and… stop runnin’ from the past and quit hidin’ my memories of my sister. I’ve dealt with the pain and the mournin’ and… and I ain’t never gonna forget the way it felt the night she died. There’s a part of me that’s always, every second of every day, gonna feel that pain deep in my bones. But…” He gave a teary chuckle. “I know this sounds stupid. But when I was in that coma… I was with her. And she was… healthy and happy and was still playin’ soccer and dancin’ and she was with my damn stupid dog and he was runnin’ and floppin’ over in the shade and… and she was with her momma who loved her so goddamn much. I was with them for a while. And we talked a lot. And she…” He closed his eyes then, clearly trying to keep himself together. “I think I was in heaven with them. And she forgave me, told me I had to forgive myself. And… when I woke up, I… I decided to try.

“I’m joinin’ the marines when I leave here. If my hip heals the way it’s supposed to, I’m joinin’ the marines. I’m done actin’ like a… scared and broken little kid, like a damn selfish brat. It’s time for me ta be someone that I can be proud of and to… learn to be a man, have some order and some discipline. I think… I’m ready to live now that I almost died.”

He began strumming them, softly, carefully, as if the guitar was precious and fragile. But his voice, soft and smooth, deep and melodic, echoing through the room was enough to send chills down my spine.

I had to look up the lyrics for this song on Dr. Woods’ computer, but I wanted to get them right. This moment was too perfect, too beautiful, and much too cathartic to get wrong.

“Why are there so many songs about rainbows

and what's on the other side

Rainbows are visions

But only illusions

And rainbows have nothing to hide

So we've been told

And some choose to believe it

I know they're wrong, wait and see

Someday we'll find it

The rainbow connection

The lovers, the dreamers, and me

“Who said that every wish

Would be heard and answered

When wished on the morning star

Somebody thought of that

And someone believed it

And look what it's done so far

What's so amazing

That keeps us stargazing

And what do we think we might see

Someday we'll find it

The rainbow connection

The lovers, the dreamers, and me

“All of us under its spell, we know that it's probably magic

Have you been half asleep?

And have you heard voices?

I've heard them calling my name

Is this the sweet sound

That called the young sailors?

The voice might be one in the same

I've heard it too many times to ignore it

It's something that I'm supposed to be

Someday we'll find it

The rainbow connection

The lovers, the dreamers and me"