#im sorry for that one john one i just kept seeing it and couldn't rest until i made this 😞

[taylorshope]

[lighthouseshepard]

ahhh been too afraid to pm you but hi from a silent mutual!!

writing prompt: john and yorick chat while arthur sleeps :))

HI HELLO!! im also always too afraid to pm everyone! thank you so much for sending this in and so sorry it took me a while! been a very busy few days (:

"Is he fully asleep, my king?"

John groans in annoyance among the relative darkness he'd been sulking within. Ever since Arthur's eyes shut once he fell into an exhausted, heavy slumber nearly thirty minutes prior, he'd been reluctant to try and exercise what little muscle control he possessed to squint them open again. Manipulating those muscles usually woke him regardless of how careful he was, leaving him with a splitting headache neither of them could explain. And at the moment, John couldn't bring himself to disturb the hard won sleep, as fitful as it was.

Yes, he's asleep, he hisses impatiently. Yorick's voice came from somewhere to their left, still attached by the chain threaded around their waist. Arthur's right arm twitches, fingers scrabbling for some imaginary thing, before falling still.

"Excellent," says the skull. "Our master requires much rest after that entire ordeal."

Our master? John snorts. The subtle stirrings of a cool night's breeze brush against the skin of his left hand, welcome after the wet, stale air of the cave. He's your master, not mine. 

"He is master to both of us!" Yorick exclaims, far too loudly. "Just as you are a king to him and myself. An inseparable pair, the dies irae, intertwined inexorably, dominion over one another and all else."

Jesus fucking Christ, John mutters, wishing he could wince. What does that even mean?

“Exactly as I said. Would you like me to repeat it?”

No, no. Can you quiet down? You're going to wake him.

“Certainly, my king.” His reply drops to a tone only slightly less loud than before. 

 And stop calling me that, he adds irritably. I'm not a king.

"You were once a king," Yorick states matter of fact, jaw clacking solidly as he speaks, a peculiarly troubling imitation of human life. "I do not see the issue with proclaiming this."

Once, he emphasizes. I'm not... I'm not that being any longer. I don't claim to be any kind of ruler anymore.

"Fair enough! What shall I call you if not a ruler, then?" 

John, he grinds out, the last droplet of water among the barren desert of his patience threatening to dissolve. John is fine.

"Alright," Yorick says, sounding pleased. "King John, how may I serve you?"

John heaves a haggard sigh. Unbelievable, he groans, and attempts to turn his attention away for a brief, blissful second to collect what surely remained of his sanity.

The thing that called itself vanguard spoke incessantly. Within the caves, climbing out into rain-damp earth and sky, walking to find shelter for nightfall in the hopes of catching at least a few hours sleep - it had not stopped talking the entire way. John had half a mind to untangle Yorick from Arthur's belt when he wasn't paying attention and throw him as far as his eyes could see. He'd never liked the thought of the vanguard anyway, had never wanted Arthur to take the head, keep the tooth. Something about a creature which existed simultaneously in the Dreamlands, the Dark World and their own reality never sat well with him. 

A hypocritical perspective, possibly, considering. Yet that similarity alone made him nervous, straddling a razor's cautious edge. He knew what he was capable of. Yorick remained a mystery.

They'd found an oak tree, its canopy stretching out far enough to provide cover from the last stray rain clouds rolling by, so long as Arthur kept curled at its trunk. He had fallen under almost immediately. One or two words exchanged between him and that damned skull, and he was out, John's name half formed on his lips in what sounded like the start of a question. It would likely be forgotten upon waking. Already Yorick was taking time meant for him.

Regardless, John knew him to be valuable, an asset they couldn't afford to get rid of. Certainly not now, with nothing to their names except the clothes Arthur wore and the bag he carried, no money, no food. If Yorick could be a wealth of information like he claimed, they'd have to put up with him a while longer. 

And then John could toss him into a lake.

In the stretch of thankful silence, Yorick apparently finally listening to his demands, he reaches over and inspects what remained of the wound. Dried blood coated Arthur's wrinkled shirt close to his heart, stiffening the fabric. Laying his palm flat and hesitantly across his chest, John takes solace in the flighty pulse tangibly felt there. Not too long ago there was none at all.

Arthur murmurs something wordless under his touch. John retracts his hand quickly, mildly guilty at having potentially disturbed him.

“You dislike when he sleeps,” Yorick says. Despite his position by Arthur's hip, rolled sideways where he'd come to rest as they laid down on dry grass, his voice still seemed to come from somewhere else around them. 

John waits a second for more to follow. Nothing comes - it's a statement, not an inquiry.

I don't dislike him sleeping, he huffs. He has to rest, obviously.

“Yet it troubles you regardless? The absence of him.”

I don't, John sputters out, struggling to keep his voice level. I'm not… lonely if that's what you're suggesting. Will you just shut up already? We're both going to wake him up at this rate.

“Our master is blind to the world in multiple senses of the word,” says Yorick. “Deep within a dream. He will not wake for some time.”

How do you know he's dreaming? he asks, perplexed. You can't… see into his mind, or-

“I know a great many things.” Another beat of silence, decorated by the cricket song in the surrounding brush shielding them from view. Again John waits for an explanation, growling agitatedly when none is forthcoming.

Such as? he prompts. What is he dreaming about? 

“I do not know the specifics,” clacks Yorick. “Yet I'm aware of the turmoil of his thoughts. There is a string of piano keys tied like wire around his ankles, a bathtub overflowing, a yellow sun-”

Okay, I get the specifics! John mutters. So a nightmare, clearly.

“Precisely! Excellent conclusion, King John.”

He was starting to immediately regret accidentally adding John to that title. Is there a way we can help him, then?

As if on cue, subconsciously aware he was being discussed, Arthur lets out a low, pained breath of air. Instinctively John’s hand jolts to attention, fingers delicately skimming the wound like he would find answers or assistance there. His legs were twitching, again his arm reaching and then recoiling from something John couldn’t see or understand. 

Nightmares were the only times he felt useful, whenever Arthur slept. Lingering in the corners of his mind, stuck between drifting into his own thoughts and keeping an active listen for anything that might hurt them while he was out - it wore him down in ways be couldn't explain. Yorick was right, even though John would rather revisit the Dark World than admit it. He did hate when Arthur had to sleep for the emptiness it left him with. Being able to wake him from a bad dream as soon as he caught the signs left him aware of a strange, disjointed sense of selfish pleasure. Even if it came at the risk of Arthur’s unhappiness, helping him out of a nightmare was one thing he could do consistently right.

“He will not wake until the nightmare is complete,” Yorick says nonchalantly. “He is too deep.”

Which will take how long?

“I know a great many things,” he says for the second time. “Yet this, I do not.”

Another whimper, softer than the last. John taps the side of his head, tugs at his shirt collar, goes so far as to flick his nose multiple times in a row, as hard as he could manage. Nothing caused him to stir. He could slap him, sure, but in this state he might break apart altogether.

Great. John heaves a sigh. So we just have to listen to this, then? Until he’s, what, done dreaming?

“That is correct. We could always pass the time discussing, my King.”

Discussing what? He snorts. The maggots we just crawled through? No thanks.

“Or,” Yorick adds, “you could always return your hand to his chest.”

What? 

“Your hand,” he repeats, jaw clicking knowingly. “It is the one thing which calms the dreams. I’ve witnessed it many times before.”

You didn’t even have eyes, then, John says sardonically. What could you possibly have witnessed?

“I have no physical eyes now, but I can see you and the master. I was aware then, and in a way, I am aware now.”

In the shrouding blackness of Arthur’s slumber, John imagines the two points of white light where the prince’s eyes once rested staring sideways up at them, awash in tendrils of green smoke. Was this how Arthur felt all the time, kept in the dark, left to wonder how everyone was looking at him? 

Carefully, he puts his hand back in the center of Arthur’s chest. Fingers splay out, one wooden pinky, the rest a thin collection of bruises and scars and broken, chipped nails. That fidgety pulse returns, a bird’s caught wing under his palm. The rhythm remains so for nearly a minute, stuttering and jumping to some melody John couldn’t follow along, and he’s about ready to give it up for nonsensical, stupid advice before he hears Arthur sigh.

It’s not the same troubled exhale as before. This one comes calmer, more even-keeled. As he focuses on his heartbeat he notices it begins to slow, calming bit by bit into a steady, softer pattern. Arthur’s movements drift to a halt. He shifts among the roots, mumbling something too quiet to comprehend, and eventually falls silent.

“He sleeps much like the dead in appearance,” Yorick states thoughtfully. “I believe the dream has come to a close, for now.”

Good, remarks John, at a loss for anything else to say. He wasn’t going to tell Yorick thank you; but it was tempting. The gentle rise and fall of Arthur’s breathing is a placid current, subtler than the new rain beginning to break through the clouds overhead in the night. He could plainly picture him, sprawled out uncomfortably, breeze touseling sweat damp hair, a downward curve in a mouth which always seemed to be frowning lately. Protected just enough beneath the oak, protected enough beneath John’s palm.

Well, at least one of us is content.

“I am much content, King John.”

That makes a total of two. Can you please shut the hell up now? 

“If that is what you wish," the skull says amicably. "Then I will."

It is, John bites. Just thirty minutes of fucking silence. Please.

Yorick says nothing. Relief settles over him as the break distends. Minutes pass until he finally accepts his desire had been properly observed. Crickets sing around them once more.

Sleep well, he whispers, hand firmly over heart. Perhaps we can wait a little longer to get rid of him.

[one-annon]

im so sorry about my absence!! i've been a little busy so i haven't been able to get to requests but i promise i'll start working on them again around this weekend!! instead here's a book i wrote a while ago about the twins to keep you guys fed! i also wrote it on a computer with auto caps so if its a little different from my writing style please forgive me..i also got a bit lazy toward the end i apologize! warning for tcm spoilers kinda choptop coming home

Bobby sighed heavily, finally getting off the plane. He was glad he was able to finally be done with the war. Of course, he only served about three years but missed his family - what can he say? Not only that, but he missed his records. According to the letters his twin sent, he kept them safe in the room they used to share. He was the only one to write.

Drayton, his oldest brother, was supposed to pick him up from the airport. It was a fairly long drive, but he didn’t mind. Apparently, while he was gone, they set themselves up well. Made a name for the family. Drayton won the best chili competition twice! Twice!

The short man scrambled around baggage claim, quickly grabbing his stuff before waiting outside for his brother. He got odd looks, of course. Nothing new. He had gained a metal plate in his head during his time serving - the result of a piece of his head being cut (getting a chunk of your head cut with a machete really freakin’ hurts!)

About 20 minutes passed before a blue Chevrolet c-10 Silverado pulled in front of him, his brother in the driver’s seat.

Bobby tilted his head, pulling the passenger door open and slipping into the seat. “This is new,” he stated, slamming the door shut and setting his bags in the back seat.

Drayton grinned at him “like it?”

He laughs softly, nodding. He looked around the truck. “Where’s bubba? And nubbins?”

The way drayton’s expression fell didn't go unnoticed by the veteran. “Oh.” he started, shifting the truck into drive and moving out of the way of others. “..they’re at home,” he answered simply. “Taking care of Grandpa.”

That made sense. Grandpa needed someone to watch him. He was old.

He gave a soft nod.

The two fell into a comfortable silence (for the younger, at least). It was fairly unusual for the sawyers to be quiet but bobby was tired and drayton had too many thoughts in his head.

How would he react when he found out what happened?

“Now- bobby..uh..you realize some things have..changed..since you left.” Drayton tried to be careful with his words. It wasn’t all the time he was soft with his younger brothers but-..this felt different. He had just been through war. He watched his friends die right in front of him. On top of that - nubbins had-

“I know!” he smiles at him. “I-I’m quite ready to see what you guys have been cookin’!!” 

There it was. That quietness.

“Yknow, i made a friend.” bobby mentions softly. “He always called me chop top. Gave it to me in the hosp-hospital!”

Drayton just nods.

“He was real sweet, gave me one of his records - he did! A-a Beatles one! ‘Sargeant Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band’.” he leaned back slightly, “that’s the one with the song that people say is related to LSDs!!” he grins, looking over to his brother as he rests his hands behind his head. “Though it actually originated from John Lennon’s son’s drawing.”

Drayton let him ramble on, letting him be happy for the moments before the storm.

He couldn't focus on what Bobby was saying, just staring blankly at the road.

“That’s nice, Bobby.” He mumbled.

The younger frowned, watching him. “You’re being awfully quiet.” He spoke softly, his eyes full of worry as he stared.

Drayton swallowed hard “don’t worry about it, boy.” 10 minutes. Just 10 more minutes.

The truck fell silent again. More of an uncomfortable silence now.

It didn’t take long for the duo to get there. Home.

“What happened?” bobby asked as he set his shaky hand on the door handle.

“It’s a long story.” Drayton grumbled, shutting the truck off before opening his own side’s door and stepping out.

Bobby followed soon after, retrieving his bags from the back seat. He meets his brother at the front door, grinning. He was excited to see the rest of his family. Especially his twin. He doesn’t know how to explain it but they’re..connected. Not just by blood but it feels like they can finish each other’s thoughts without even needing context. 

Twins can read each others mind. His sergeant had said when they were eating lunch. Hell yeah. They could do that.

Drayton sighs heavily as he opened the door. “Welcome home, Bobby.”

The taller quickly ran into the house “bubba!” he shouts “nubbins!!”

There was a loud clatter. Then excited screaming. Then out came bubba, all grown up; wearing a fancy new tie and a yellow rubber apron and..

Bobby was tackled, pulled into a tight hug. Bubba babbled out sobs, squeezing him much too tight. 

“Hi bubba!” he laughs, wrapping his arms around his brother’s large frame. If you ask if he cried, he’d obviously say no..but he’s lying. Tears were shed as he held his younger brother. “You’ve grown!” he pointed out, grinning at him.

Bubba nods quickly, moving off and standing to show his height growth. Choptop chuckled and stood beside him “almost as tall as me, bub!”

Drayton smiled at the two, staying quiet.

“Where’s nubs?” Choptop suddenly asked, looking around “he ain’t surprising me is he?” The tall veteran searched the remains of the home, calling his twin’s name “Nubbins! Nubbins!! Fuck are you?!”

The eldest brother watched as Choptop called for his twin. He knew he had to tell him but how would he? Bobby would lose his mind if he found out. Drayton knew he would eventually find the corpse. He didn’t dare toss it. Not without Bobby saying goodbye first.

His first clue of his twin’s disappearance was the way Bubba looked at Cook. He was scared. Not just scared to be yelled at or hit like normal but scared of something else. Had Drayton done something to him while he was away?

Drayton had been unusually quiet. Was it because he was guilty of something? Did he do something to Nubbins? Bobby started to get worried. Not to mention how frustrated he was. Why couldn’t they just tell him dammit?! Where was his twin?? “He’s gone.” Cook spoke up.

Bobby’s eyes watered. Gone? Like - gone to town? Gone hitchhiking? Dead?

He saw a lot of death in Vietnam. Whether it be his own men or the enemies. This was different. This was his twin. The man who had been there with him since they were born. The boy who slept in the same bed as him; right side, facing the wall, hugging a pillow, hogging the blankets. If Nubbins was dead who the hell was gonna force him to have to get up and sleep with a quilt? Who was gonna kick him awake in his sleep?

“He..he aint dead right?” 

Bobby’s voice cracked. He wasn’t used to speaking with such urgency. He’s not used to losing his spark - his chipper tone he always held when he experienced something terrible. No, he was panicked. His voice shook as he asked his question, hoping - praying -  the answer would be a simple no. There had to be an explanation. Nubbins couldn’t be dead.

The silence told him everything he needed to know. No one would speak to him. Bobby choked on his sobs, instead changing his question to: “Where is he?”

Cook pointed to the stairs. He had left Nubbins on the twins’ bed. Undisturbed. He was peaceful even after what he had gone through. Bubba cowered, moving to the side as Choptop sprinted up the stairs. He took a sharp left. The other two didn’t follow. He needed his moment alone. 

Bobby slammed the door to their room open, flinging himself at the bed. He wrapped his skinny arms around his twin’s rotting body. The smell was awful. Nothing he hadn’t experienced before. “Nubbins!” He cried, forcing the covers off of the body. He held his twin close to his body, sob after sob wracking through his chest. He felt awful. He was supposed to be the responsible twin. He was supposed to be the one protecting his brother - even when Drayton was away. He knew Nubbins was harder to care for. He took on the challenge. And he failed.

He had been gone 3 years. He was only 25. Nubbins was only 25. God knows how long he’s just been sitting here. Choptop muttered to himself, begging Nubbins to wake up. It was like those nights again. Back when they were kids and when Bobby would have a bad dream. Nubbins always held him tight and Bobby did the same when Nubbins had a nightmare. He always held Nubbins close, made sure he would stop crying before Drayton or Ma came upstairs.

“I’ve - I’ve got you Nubs.” He whispered, face buried in the rotting hair. “Y-you’re okay. I’m home.”

It wasn’t until a week later that Drayton and Bubba saw Choptop. He had been keeping himself tucked away in his room since he found out. Somewhere he was safe. With someone he felt safe with. A corpse he felt safe with. Choptop trudged down the stairs, his usual cheery and manic tone back in action. He held the corpse close to his side. Drayton was in the kitchen at the time, cooking some poor soul into chili. “M-me n’ Nubbins are gonna go out!” He called. Drayton glanced over his shoulder, eyebrows furrowed.

“What the hell?” Bobby already had the door open before he could say anything more. “Let’s haul butt, bro!”

[joanquill]

"What? No, it isn't. It's only– oh shit, it is Valentine's…" + Marriage proposal

Hello hello, may I request a combination of prompt 19 and 28 with Mycroft? He’s my favorite I truly adore this guys personality. I don’t have a detailed idea of the story but, my best guess would be angst to fluff. How ever you see it fit, I really enjoy your work. 😄

Mycroft Holmes

Tag/s: Established Relationship, Angst (If you use a magnifying glass) to Fluff

Warning/s: Slight Manga Spoilers?

"Oh!" you exclaimed, seeing Charles cooing and pecking at your window.

"Good morning, Charles," you smiled, opening the window as the pigeon hopped in.

"Hardworking as ever, I see," you chuckled, rubbing the pigeon's head as you took the letter he had.

Dear (Y/N), Good morning, my darling. Unfortunately, there are complications back here in the royal palace. I might not be able to go home today. I hope you understand. From, Mycroft Holmes

"He's out again, huh...?" you smiled in disappointment, making Charles tilt his head curiously.

"Your owner sure is busy," you reassured, taking out a pen and paper.

"Well, whatever. We can celebrate Valentine's some other day," you smiled, writing a reply to your lover.

'Since I have nothing to do, might as well go around town,'

"Mmm!" you exclaimed, the cake enveloping your mouth in sweet bliss.

"I'll take three,"

"Understood!" the clerk smiled as she prepared your order.

"(Y/N)-chan?" you turned your head to the voice and saw a couple of familiar faces.

"Sherly! Dr. Watson!"

"How's my idiotic big brother?"

"Sherlock!" John scolded, making you chuckle.

"He's working late today," you answered, sipping your tea.

"Aren't you going to celebrate Valentine's Day together?"

"We will, but not today," you smiled, setting down your cup.

"The royal palace has been busy. With all the scandals and rumors circulating, I'm surprised Myckey still writes to me every day," you joked but only saw a worried look from John and an annoyed expression from Sherlock.

"I-Its not a big deal, really!" you reassured, "I already know what I was getting into when Mycroft courted me," you added with a smile.

"Im surprised he even asked me out," you chuckled nervously, making Sherlock sigh.

"Give yourself some credit, (Y/N)-chan," Sherlock reminded as he ruffled your hair.

"Trust me, that man adores you with every fiber of his being,"

"I'm home..." you announced as you locked the front door, wanting nothing more than to end the day with a goodnight's rest.

"Welcome home," a familiar voice greeted, making you pause.

You quickly turned around and saw Mycroft organizing a stack of gifts.

"Happy Valentine's Day," he grinned, making you gasp as your feet started moving on their own.

"Myckey!" you shouted as you ran up to him, tackling him into a hug.

"I missed you too," he chuckled as you hugged him tightly, tears forming under your eyes.

"I thought you couldn't go home today?" you asked, sniffing as you wiped your eyes.

"I only said I might not be able to come home. That's why I took the earliest train back," Mycroft clarified as he rested his head on yours.

"That's good to hear..." you whispered, feeling a heavy weight in your chest being lifted up.

"Good work," you giggled as your tears kept falling, making Mycroft frown.

"I truly am sorry I couldn't come home sooner," he apologized softly, making you shake your head.

" I know... I just thought you wouldn't be home today and forgot what day it is today..." you giggled with a sniff.

Mycroft paused as he gently held your cheek, his thumb wiping your tears.

"(Y/N), I'd never forget Valentine's Day. Let alone make you spend it alone," he reassured, making you chuckle.

"Yeah, I can see," you chuckled, looking at the mountain of gifts behind him.

"Couldn't pick a gift?" you teased, making him playfully shake his head.

"Not exactly," Mycroft answered, rummaging through the gifts.

You raised a brow as you saw him stand up with a ring box in hand.

"There's one gift I have been waiting to give you,"

[peakyblindersxx]

whiskey business - john shelby x reader (part 6 of ?)

gif by my queen @michaelgreys, i'm basically her fanblog now but im not mad about it :) i mean just look at him!!1! i almost fainted

a/n: first of all, if you stuck around to this point, tysm for reading!!! this has been one of the most amazing fics ive ever been a part of and it's all thanks to the gorgeous @stxdyblr-2k, who generously took control of the next few parts. her brain is beautiful and we all owe her flowers or something. when i read what she sent me i couldn't bring myself to change much except for some small edits, so pls give her lots of love if you like it!!!! i'm still working on requests as well :)

love, abi xxx

read part one two three four five | my masterlist

tagging: @datewithgianni, @mayaslifeinabox, @deepdonutkid, @springsoulofengland, @lilymurphy03

prompt: nothing this good can last forever. john doesn't know how to feel, and neither do you.

warnings: nsfw! a teensy bit of smut, angsty as fuck prepare yourselves accordingly, a lil fluff if u squint, yeah this fucked me up

Obviously, it wasn't the last time.

Over the coming months you had many last times; his mouth pressed against your neck said as much. As his responsibility at work increased, you'd find yourself heading to his office after your lectures and night classes more often, perched on his lap, smoking, while he finished up his numbers under your critical gaze.

Thomas was more than aware; his snarky comments made it obvious he had his ways of monitoring your actions. You'd seen the dark car lurking outside your rallies and lectures, and no matter how you'd try to throw him off, not even telling Ada where you were going and even, in a moment of desperation, through your neighbours back window, somehow, his silent shadow was still looming. He was practically begging you to make a mistake, to give everyone an easy out. You just couldn't give him the satisfaction. You knew Tommy saw the world as a chess board, always several moves ahead of his opponent. Even when you played him in chess club all those years ago, you could outflank him if you thought on your feet and kept him thinking he was winning until you obliterated him in the end game. It was brutal, sure. But as he told you, there were bigger games at play. You had your own. Thomas could read your mail, intercept your phone calls and have you followed, but he couldn't hear what you said out of earshot. Your lot could smell an interceptor in your ranks, so spying at that close of a proximity was out of the question.

That's why he'd decided to let you have John. You knew his silent approval and his constant management of the narrative meant he saw a tactical gain. There was only so much information he could get from Ada, but John? He just had to agitate him in the right way and all your secrets would come tumbling out. It was difficult hiding your world from John; of what he knew of, he was supportive, quizzing you over current affairs and political discourse, listening intently. Yet, you had to watch your mouth. You had to keep a barrier up and you knew John sensed the distance. Fundamentally, there was nothing either of you could do.

So here you were, in a comfortable limbo. Your days were filled with work, evenings were for lectures and reading groups at the city's university, Ada and you often stopped for a drink or three; you'd go by your flat to freshen up, and then to John's office. Sometimes, you wouldn't visit for a week or so when the guilt sent you over the edge, it was draining to be living so many lives and knowing you were betraying the person you loved most on earth. Ada was oblivious, taking you on her nightly adventures filled with men, dancing and waiting while she was busy kissing in dark corners. Sometimes a young blinder would ask if you wanted to be walked home. The first occurrence you thought was sweet, but as the nights it occurred coincided with nights John seemed extra pent up, you'd decided to ask. The boy, who couldn't be older than twelve but who you knew was trained in using firearms and had a revolver pinned to his hip and a razor in his cap, looked confused.

"Mate, it's not a tough question. Why do you come and ask?"

"There's a phone call." He shrugs, "Isaiah or Michael tells us to go and get you."

Isaiah and Michael were somewhat aware? Fucking hell. Your fling was basically a military campaign at this point, so many of your friends were complicit. The little lads who ran as messengers around Birmingham were complicit. You had to just end it.

But when you sat on his thigh, his chin hooked over your shoulder, it felt so worth it. He never turned you away when you came crawling back. He never mentioned it until after you were finished, hooked under his arm.

"Fucking missed you, gorgeous."

Sometimes he'd remind you not to be a stranger with a wink, but you could tell it was tearing him apart too. He never once came to you. That's how he could justify it in his mind; obviously, the bare minimum was not having sex with his sister's best friend, but in failing that, waiting for you to initiate it was somewhat better. He barely talked to Ada now, citing work as an excuse, but truly the guilt sickened him. He couldn't believe he was prepared to continuously hurt his little sister and betray her. But every time you turned up at his door, he couldn't find it in himself to turn you away. In his mind, every single time you came to visit him was the last time he'd let it happen, yet he was always waiting for you to come back, his blind closed to signal he was prepared. He never would call, it had to be your choice.

You'd been off and on for over five months now. It was so difficult to hide in plain sight, but you just couldn't stop yourself. Neither of you purposefully meant for this to be happen but fuck, was it fun.

For your birthday he'd gifted you a fur coat from the same shop his sister, aunt and the fashionable crowd of Birmingham had purchased theirs. He joked that you looked like a "proper razor chaser", kissing you when you pouted at his teasing, begging you to wear only the coat when you fucked him next. It was a practice for blinders to buy a coat for their wives and girlfriends as a status symbol. You were neither, but John claimed that being his "favourite lass" also counted.

John was a laugh, but you knew at any time he could close his door to you. Until he decided he couldn't be bothered with you, you weren't going to get caught. You just had to be careful until he got bored.

***

You did end up putting a foot wrong. It was a Thursday night; you were sitting on the edge of John's desk while he was ridding you of your blouse. It was past midnight, Birmingham was asleep. You almost didn't bother coming out tonight, but you knew John had lost a deal and you wanted to be there for him. Your skirt and stockings were strewn across the desk with his shirt, vest and waistcoat, muddled into the files and papers which were once neatly stacked.

His fingers were pumping in and out of you, his mouth lapping at your breast, your head tipped back in euphoria, groaning. The stress made him more affectionate and tender with you, and it was nights like these that made you wonder. Wonder if this could ever be something more, something real.

John's body suddenly pulled away from yours, quickly turning the light off.

"John, what-" You were cut off by John’s hand over your mouth, muffling your words.

"Shut up and get behind the desk." He hissed. "Someone's coming upstairs."

You quickly grabbed your clothes from the shiny oak surface and crouched, hiding yourself from view, quickly making yourself decent. You weren't going to get shot through the head with your tits out. You listened to the stairs creek, and it sounded like a group. You two were easily outnumbered. They were talking, but the thick panels of wood muffled their voices.

As your eyes adjusted to the darkness, the cracks in the door giving the room a dulled glow, you could make out the figure of John. He was free of his shirt, toned body on display, standing with his back flat to the wall, revolver produced from a discreet notch in the door frame, gaze fixed on where they'd enter. He was tense, ready. The door was unlocked from the outside, the door handle twisting.

John's lip shifted in confusion yet still he kept his trigger finger ready, not a single shake from your general.

The light flicked on and a shriek rang out. It was blinding, and you stood up slightly dazed. Finn was in the doorway, John next to him clutching his chest, panting and lowering the gun.

"Jesus Christ, Finn, can't you knock like a normal person? Scared the shit out of us." John bellowed, shaking as the adrenaline coursed through his body, resting his hands on the edge of the desk as he regained his breath.

"You're the one who pointed a gun at me! I didn't even know you were in 'ere!" Finn yelped.

The commotion had attracted the attention of Ada and Isaiah, who had come running and stopped in their tracks upon seeing you standing behind John's desk in the middle of the night. They weren't stupid. John was topless, your clothes obviously rumpled, both with matching tousled hair and practically stinking of guilt. You'd been caught red handed. Ada's eyes flicked between both you and John, and you could practically see the pieces of the puzzle clicking together in her mind, all the moments she found questionable since you'd returned suddenly making sense, realising she had been deceived by the two people who she was meant to trust most in life. Finn looked absolutely crushed, he'd never been able to conceal his emotions as well as his older brothers and sister, linking his fingers through Ada's, squeezing her hand.

"I forgot to drop this off earlier." Finn stated, holding up a money box, "Ada had keys so we thought we'd sneak in so I wouldn't get done by Tommy. We did call round yours, Y/N. We thought you were in bed."

"I'm sorry." You said. It was not enough but you just didn't know what else to say. You couldn't make it right, you'd really fucked up this time. Tears pricked at your eyes, as Ada examined you in silence.

John stepped in front of you defensively. "Look, Ada-"

"How long has this been going on?" She asked, her voice shaking with rage. You and John exchanged a glance. "I said, how fucking long?"

"Five months, six in a fortnight." He answered.

Isaiah whistled lowly. "That's fucked. I thought it was only a few times, that it'd finished."

"Never really over when it's John is it." Finn interjects, you glance to him, were you just one in a long string? You shouldn't be surprised but it was easy to pretend he may actually care about you.

"You've been fucking around for six months behind my back?" Ada yelped, Finn trying to comfort her but she pulled away from him. "And you fucking knew Iz."

"I'd expect this from you, yeah? Wouldn't put anything past you these days.." she sneered at John, "But you? You?! You're meant to be my best mate, but here you are sneaking about fucking my brother?"

"Ada-" you began, eyes welling with tears.

"I thought I could trust you. You're just another fucking razor chaser, aren't you?" She spits. "That's why you came back."

"No it wasn't, Ada-"

Her eyes flashed with anger, but this time John was on the receiving end. "You bought her that fucking coat ,didn't you? The fur one. You did! Fuck's sake!" Her fists were clenched, shoulders squared. For the first time in your life, you understood why crowds parted for Ada Shelby. Understood all the free drinks and cab rides, the nervous serving staff declaring your meal on the house (always acknowledged by Ada with a hefty tip), understood why the men of Birmingham didn't last long with her.

"Did it feel good to swan about town in that fucking coat, while acting as though you cared about me? It's so fucking embarrassing. All trussed up because my knobhead big brother makes you feel special? Thanks for rubbing it in my face."

"Ada, I love you. I never meant to hurt you, I got caught up and that's on me. It's my fault."

"You're not acting like you love me. This isn’t what love is, Y/N." She retorted.

You couldn’t do anything but nod. She was right.

John opened his mouth to speak, Ada silencing him, a scowl darkening her features.

"I don't care what you have to say. Any of you. Who else knows?"

"Thomas, Michael, Arthur-" John listed off slowly, each name prompting Ada to break down a little bit more in front of you.

"I didn't know Arthur knew." You said pointedly, John sending you an exasperated glance. He was planning on dealing with that later, but right now was about his sister. Fuck him if he thought you were going to stick around much longer. You didn't want to hear him justify everyone else knowing about your fling with your best friend being left completely in the dark.

"That all you have to say for yourself?" Ada snaps at you.

"I have fucking no defense, do I Ada? I should've walked away." You pushed your hair back, frustrated at yourself, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. You begged yourself not to cry. Tears wouldn't help anything.

"Why didn't you?"

You didn't know. Your silence only riled her up.

"Why didn't you fucking walk away?" Ada yelled, slamming her hands on the desk.

You felt hot tears run down your face, quickly moving your hands to dab at your tears.

"Don't you dare fucking cry. After all you've done, you don't get to cry in front of me." Ada growled at you, John going to shush her, obviously wanting to comfort you. "You can all fuck off. You've all lied to me and gone behind my back. Fuck’s sake, you could've just told me. You could've just told me."

"We didn't want to hurt you." John said, reaching out to squeeze her shoulder but she flinches away.

"This hurts so much more. You get that you all lying to me is so much worse, don't you?"

"We weren't thinking."

"You really fucking weren't." Ada laughs bitterly, shaking her head, blinking away tears. "Fuck you lot."

She stormed out, tailed by Finn, begging her to slow down and talk to him, protesting his innocence in the situation. Isaiah hesitated in the doorway, his eyes flickering between you and John.

"I had no idea you two've been at it for so long."

"Iz, fuck off yeah? I've had enough today." John shot back, sliding across the desk towards you. "You alright, lass?"

"We're done here, John."

He slid off the table, his hand cupping your face, "Hey, gorgeous, I get it but don't go breaking my heart tonight. Can we just leave this for tomorrow? Sleep on it."

The idea of getting any sleep at all tonight was laughable, you'd be up all night replaying these moments and torturing yourself. Tonight couldn't get any worse so you had to finally end it. Now was the right time.

"John, it should've never happened."

"But it did."

"I don't want to talk about this anymore. It's over."

"Y/N. You know for me it was never just about-"

"You're making it difficult. Stop making it difficult. Whatever you say isn't going to change that right now we have to do the right thing."

"I know you're right, but I don't want to let go. Is it so wrong to want you? I adore you, you know that."

You wouldn't meet his eyes. Sighing, John pressed his forehead to the side of your head, chin brushing your shoulder, eyes closing. He was begging you to stay with him. There had to be a solution, you'd figure it out together. His voice was cracking, eyes glassy. He looked so much younger when he was pleading. The tall bloke who terrorised the Midlands with his razor rimmed cap, a revolver in his hand, and a ruthless trigger finger had vanished. You wanted to stay, burning to curl up with him and for him to kiss it better.

"I should go." You told him. He rested his forehead on your shoulder, letting out a shaky sigh before pulling away, nodding.

"I'd drive you home but obviously-"

"Obviously."

John suddenly turned from you, eyes narrowing at Isaiah who was still hovering at the door. "Thought I told you to fuck off. Make yourself useful and get Y/N home safely." His tone was ice cold once again.

Isaiah nodded, offering his arm to you. You reached the door and instinctively looked back at John. His eyes met yours, staring at you from his desk, just as you knew he would. He prepared himself to watch you leave every night, but this time was different. That was it with you two.

Isaiah strode down the street with you in silence. You were tucked into his side as was customary with the upcoming blinders who were particularly ambitious, but there was no relaxed chat.

"Isaiah. What’re you thinking?" You asked, voice tinged with nervousness.

He sighed, running his free hand across his jaw, "That was intense in there."

"Just how he is." You shrugged.

"Does he love you or sommet?"

"Fuck knows… does it matter?"

"Of course it does. Do you love him?"

"Drop it. None of that matters, it shouldn't have happened in the first place so it can’t," You snapped, the anger at the situation you'd created suddenly overwhelming.

Isaiah whistled, raising his brow at your obvious turmoil. "You're in fucking deeper than you want to admit."

He walked you up your path, watching you turn the key to the side door leading to your bedsit. You paused, turning to him.

"Iz… I don't know what to do next."

It was so dark, you could see his face only by the lit cigarette burning to embers between his fingers. He inhaled deeply, pausing before delivering his carefully laid out plan of avoidance. Obviously the event of him crossing the Shelbys and losing their good graces weighed heavily on his mind. You nodded, listening intently, noting his ideas of relocation but he explained they were a final resort. The best thing to do was try to regain their trust; in the long run, he had calculated, it was the only option that didn't result in your life being haunted by the Shelbys. Even if they left you alone, their enemies would make a point to go after you, seeing you as an easy target. The other option was to leave the country.

"Good luck, Y/N. I mean it." He muttered as you turned the handle to the temporary safety of your home. You nodded, offering you cheek for the polite good night kiss you'd become accustomed to. He rolled his eyes and obliged, pressing an affectionate kiss to your cheek and ruffling your hair. "I'm serious. Watch your back."

***

John broke down when he finally heard the lock click shut. His eyes had been prickling with boiling tears, his jaw tensed to hold them back. He yelled out in anger, flipping his desk with force, a loud crash as the wood splintered against the stone flooring, glass shattering from the photo frames. His hands went to his head, unable to stop the gasping breaths escaping from his trembling lips, his face reddening.

"Fuck’s sake." He growled. He'd fucked everything up. He had nothing, just as he'd told you the first night you returned. The consequence was no surprise, he'd anticipated the fall out for a while, but he couldn't resist you. He was completely guilty and had no defense; his only justification being that you made him think with his cock, not his brain.

Fuck’s sake. Polly was going to murder him. She'd always had a soft spot for Ada, as the only girl in the family, and was no stranger to lecturing him over his flirtatious behaviour around Ada's friends. She'd murder him. He had a half mind to never go home. He rubbed at his eyes with his knuckles. Polly had no use for tears. That's what she'd tell him when he was a boy coming home with a skinned knee. This was far worse.

He was also sure that he was a worse brother than Tommy, perhaps the worst in the world. His baby sister, who he'd helped to toddle, carry proudly on his shoulders after school and race with her on his back through the fields on the outskirts of Small Heath, had walked in on him obviously in the midst of fucking her best mate. If he had swallowed his pride and actually talked to her, he wouldn't be in this mess. He could've told her that things changed, that for the same reasons Ada loved Y/N he had fallen for her, that he was truly sorry but she had to know before it got too far and someone got hurt. He couldn't go back.

He should've never approached you that night.

He should never approach you again.

He looked over the mess of his office, the splintered wood and shards of glass, a confetti of paperwork. Now nothing mattered. None of this mattered. He'd lost everything and he had only himself to blame.

[barcaavengers]

Weakness || Bucky Barnes Imagine || Pt. 4

Note: Here we go! This part is mostly a short fluffy moment. Reader being there for Bucky when he talks to Yori, and supporting him when he admits he will always be missing a key person in his amends. Next part will probably be more fluff, domestic and carefree Bucky cause we all know the Wilson's bring out the best in him. I'm thinking of what else to add to it so I want you guys to tell me what you'd like to see in part 4!

Updated: The first posting was all messed up and cut parts for some strange reason so it is now updated correctly!

Disclaimer: Gif not mine. All credits belong to @ryangoslings Tag List: ❤️ @hanakin-im-panakin, @evie-pr, @justinekomwriterkru, @felicityofbakerstreet, @maaaaryx, @ijustwantedplums, @winterberryfox, @ttatum14, @pastelbabygirl19, @love-buckybarnes, @forever-aimless, @izzlenizzlebizzle @pastel-boy-sungjae, @johnmurphys-sass, @ren-ni, @rachelizabethgraham

"This looks so different…" Bucky says as you two walk down the streets of Manhattan. "Steve and I would come to a hot dog stand on that corner after school. I would get him the same order every day" he says as you two walk.

"Wow, the same order" you smirk.

"He felt bad whenever I paid him, it was the cheapest order so he always asked for it no matter how many times I told him he could order something else."

"I have always admired your loyalty to each other" you say. "Never gave up on each other, always had each other's back no matter what."

"There was a time we were all we had left" he says and you could hear the nostalgia in his voice.

"Well, things change now" you bump into him and he chuckles, hands tucked in his jacket pockets. "You are not alone. You got Sam and you got me" you smile at him and he looks at you, smiling back. How much you loved this happy side of him was beyond words.

"I couldn't be more thankful," he says. His hands fall from his pocket and for a moment you see him hesitate after lifting one hand, until he realizes you were on his left side, so he drops it.

"You can do it, you know?" His eyes go wide for a moment, like if you have read his mind.

"Was it that obvious?"

"A little" you giggle and you can see his cheeks flushing. You reach for his gloved hand, but he moves it out of your reach. "Easy steps, remember?" You pause as you look at him. He nods his head before moving his hand to yours and you hold it. "So…" you trail off and get close to him, taking his arm and wrapping it over your shoulder. "This is what you wanted to do, right?" You ask him with a smile.

"Too predictable?" He asks.

"Not at all," you grin. You notice he is almost hovering it, he is touching you alright but not letting it actually drop on your shoulder. "Relax," you say. He let out an air through his nostrils before he rests it completely. The arm wasn't that heavy, or it wasn't to you. You haven't said anything about the Serum still having a slight effect on you although you have slowly felt it leaving your body.

"Thank you, for being so patient," he looks down at you as you two walk down Central Park.

"I told you I'd wait for you, I meant that" you admit. "I'm sure you will get the hang of being around a girl real quick again" you tease.

"I wonder what Steve said to you about me" he chuckles.

"That you got all the girls, even the dates you got for him" you smirk. "A true charmer" you say playfully.

"Jerk" he chuckles. "I didn't even try."

"With those looks? Of course you didn't try. One word and girl's would show you their ankles in one go" you laugh.

"Now I see enough ankles" he looks around and you elbow his side playfully and he pretends to be hurt.

"Don't you dare look other girl's ankles, Barnes" you tease.

"I'll try," he chuckles. "How have you been feeling though?"

"It's...almost gone" you shrug. "I mean, I feel it still but it isn't like the first time."

"I don't like that," he frowns.

"I know. If that stays in my system you won't see me as someone you have to save or help cause I can take care of my own."

"It has never been about that, doll" you duck your head so your hair falls and covers your cheek. The word making your cheeks flush instantly. "I'll still be there to save you, and you don't need saving so it isn't even that. You don't need help. I'm just worried of the toll it could have on you. That was a prototype, we don't know the side effects it could have…" he admits.

"Hopefully none" you bite your lower lip.

"We will figure it out," Buck says as he stops to pull his phone out when it starts ringing. "Sam?" You eye him curiously as he answers.

"Look at those lovebirds, taking a walk through the park like old people" you hear Sam on the other side of the phone. Your eyes look around the green areas, but he was nowhere to be found.

"Considering I'm a hundred and six" Bucky is looking for him too, dropping his arm off your shoulder.

"You dumbasses realize that I can fly, right?" That makes you two look up and you squeak at the sight.

Sam was above you, his wings and uniform were different, more white than the colors that Steve used to wear for his Captain America uniform. It was a sight. He lands perfectly in front of you, wings extended before they get concealed.

"Holy shit, is that what you asked Shuri to do?" You ask Bucky.

"Just a little something," he shrugs.

"Damn, Sam." You laugh as you go around him, his wings coming out scaring you off making him laugh.

"You like it?" He asks.

"I do" you say and squeak again at the shield on his back. "Oh, that's awesome." You say as you poke the shield.

"Thanks, man." Sam says to Bucky with a grin.

"No problem." Bucky says with a nod of his head. "What's up?"

"Karli is going to try to sabotage the votes in the GRC tonight" Sam says.

"If you give me a chance to change to something more comfortable I can be there."

"Alright. Voting starts in an hour. I'll send you the coordinates" he says and the jetpack initiates. "Sorry for ruining your date!" He shouts as he goes up to fly away.

"Right," your lips pressing together and you turn to Bucky. "You are going to change too?"

"Nah, I think I'm good. I'll go with you."

"If you want you can go and meet with Sam. I'll be quick" you shrug. He eyes you and you tilt your head, "I'll be fine, Buck."

"Be fast," he says and pecks your lips before he walks away without a glance back at you. It takes you a second to process that gesture before you start running back to your place.

When you get into the building, Sam, Bucky and Sharon were already inside in their respective places for the mission. Karli was forcing everyone out, which you had to admit, it was quite smart. Then you find yourself in the garage of the building where the armored cars with the Senators were leaving from. "Bucky?"

"I'm here," he says as he comes from your side. "Karli distracted me on the phone." He says as he takes the keys from one of the bikes, tossing it to you before he gets on one of them. "You are coming with me."

"Seriously guys, you had one job," Sharon says from your earpiece.

"You worry about your guy" Bucky says as he accelerates the bike. "Stay behind me." You nod your head before reviving the engine and taking off as instructed.

When you arrive at the meeting point of the Flag Smashers, Bucky turns to you, "You still have that adrenaline rush?" He asks, not stopping his bike.

"I think so!" You shout.

"Get ready!" And with that he hits the break of the bike, sending him forward and he tackles one of the group.

You jump off yours before taking the bike by the handles and flinging it forward to the group, taking down two of them at once. You are quick to run to them and kick one on the side, sending him back a few feet away, the other one comes at you and you avoid their hits for a moment before they take both of your arms. You screech as they try to hold you back but you are quick to kick the back of the knee of one of them, making her lose her grip before you move backwards behind the other person, making them follow you for a moment which gives you the chance to use their weight to your advantage and fling them over you and to the floor with a loud thud.

"Karli!" You shout as you see the group lighting up both trucks. Bucky is quick to try to open one and you go for the other one but to no avail.

"Morgenthau!" Walker's voice echoes and your eyes widened and you look at Bucky.

"How the hell does he keep showing up?!" You ask, but not really expecting an answer.

John is getting beaten by the Flag Smashers and Bucky is quick to save him from one of them, and you get to Karli, kicking her on the side, sending her against a fence. "Don't make us do this, Karli." A member of the group catches you off guard and wraps their arm around your neck, Karli delivers a few punches into your stomach that takes your breath away before punching you in the face. You are let go of and drop to your knees. Yep, the Serum was wearing off. Your vision was blurry, but you see Karli kicking Bucky and you see him sliding to the edge of the construction site before falling, hearing his scream. "Bucky!" You shout and are quick to stand up and run to the edge.

Everything keeps happening in quick blurs. John helps hold back the falling truck you couldn't open, and he manages to almost do it until the group kept going at him making them all fall to where Bucky was. Sam stops the truck from falling and is able to open the doors thanks to Redwing, so you help the Senators before jumping down to where your friends were. Batroc throws smoke grenades and Karli and her crew escape your sight until Sam identifies them and you follow, along with Walker.

Next thing you know, Sam is bringing Karli's body and talking with the senators and you had to lean against one of the trucks to process her death. Of course you didn't know her, but she was just a kid fighting for a very good reason but in the wrong ways. She was just a kid.

The next morning, the sound of a knock on your door woke you up. You lazily stand up, dragging your legs across the floor to your apartment door. Usually you would ask before opening the door, but you were too tired from the fight from last night to even be careful. When you open the door, you find the Sergeant right in front of you. "Hi" he breathes out. "Sorry, I- I didn't mean to wake you up."

"No. It's okay. Um...Come in" you step aside and he walks in. His cerulean eyes look around your apartment while you close the door. "Is everything okay?"

"Uh, yeah. It's just...I want to go visit someone, you know, about what Sam talked to me about...I was wondering if you wanted to come with me. If not it's okay. It's early but-"

"Yeah," you interrupt him and he sighs in relief. "Just let me change real quick before we go" you pat his chest as you walk to your room, leaving him behind you. You pull your shirt over your head, tossing it to the side and grabbing a bra and pulling it on, then throwing a shirt on. You reach for your jeans and step on them in front of the mirror, only to catch Bucky's eyes before they drift away like the gentleman he is.

He takes you in his bike to his destination, your arms wrapped around his waist. This felt too... intimate and your head can't help but wander off at the situation, you have to shake your head when things get heated in that daydreaming you were having. He parks the bike on the street side and turns it off. He was quiet, jaw clenched, eyes showing his concentration.

"Buck?" You call as you step out of the bike, following him. "Are you sure you are ready?" You ask him as you step in front of him.

"Yeah…" he clears his throat and your head tilts to the side.

"I'll be out the door, okay?"

"I don't know where to start…" he admits, looking at the entrance of the building. He was nervous, fidgeting with his own fingers, his voice slightly trembling.

"You will when it comes to it" you nod your head. You take his vibranium hand in yours and give it a reassuring squeeze. "Just one more name and you will be free, Bucky." A smile goes up your lips and his head nods.

"I know... It's just...he trusted me from day one. Telling him this about his son after so long…"

"I'm sure Yori will understand, not right away, but he will" he returns the squeeze of your hand before letting go. He walks inside and you follow him closely. He hesitates in front of the door before knocking. You lean against the wall, he looks back at you and you nod your head before his eyes return to the door as it opens.

"Hey, what are you doing here?" Yori asks as he looks at James. "It's early, come in before someone calls the cops" the man says before he catches your form a few feet away. "Is she with you?" He asks.

"Uh, yeah, but don't worry about her…" Bucky waves off. You nod your head to the man with a smile before Bucky walks in and the door closes.

You wait patiently outside, your head resting against the wall and closing your eyes. Not even twenty minutes go by until you hear the door opening and Bucky walking out, shutting the door close behind him. You could see he was on the verge of tearing up, the tip of his nose red, his shoulders hunched and his head hanging low. "Bucky," you call quietly and he looks at you. He walks up to you and you wrap your arms around him. "Hey, it's okay. It's okay…" you coo as he holds you close to him, the few tears he let out wetting your shirt. "You gave him closure, Bucky. You gave yourself closure. You did the right thing…"

"He won't forgive what I did. What I did to his son…" his voice was shaking and it broke your heart into a million pieces.

"He won't forget, but he will understand later that it wasn't really you. I promise" your hand moves to the back of his head, your fingers soothingly moving along his scalp.

After a few seconds, he pulls away before taking his book out of his jacket pocket, taking out a pencil as well and scratching the name off his book. He stares at the book for a moment, looking at all the names he has crossed. Your hands place on top of his and you press your lips against the back of his palms, he looks down at you and nods his head before sighing and putting the book back on his pocket. "I need to do one more stop…"

After taking the bag with the book and an envelope with Bucky's gratitude. He takes you back to your place. You don't remove your arms from around his waist until after he turns the bike off. "Feeling better?" You ask, your chin resting on his shoulder blade.

"I do," he says with a nod of his head.

"Come on," you say and pat his back before stepping out of the bike and walking to your apartment. He is quiet as he walks with you and comes through the door, sitting on your couch. "We have to drink for today" you say as you walk to your fridge and pull two beers out, tossing one to him which he is quick to catch with his vibranium arm. "For closures, for partners, and for the beginning of something new" you say with a smile as you sit beside him.

"Cheers to that" he raises his beer before the two bottles make a crystal sound as they bump into each other. He takes a sip from his drink and stares at the bottle afterwards, his mind somewhere else.

"Steve would be proud, you know?" The mention of his best friend's name makes his eyes light up. "I know I am" you say as you take a swig.

"I thought I would never be able to finish that list," he says. "There's still one person I couldn't even apologize for what I did back then. I know they hated me for it but-"

"You are talking about Tony?" His head nods. "He never brought it up after what happened" you say. "Tony felt betrayed, Steve kept that from him, never mentioned it. That alone and the accords complicated things to a different level."

"That was a horrible moment…"

"Tell me about it" you say and take a sip of your beer, so does he. "I had to step out, I couldn't fight Tony, I couldn't fight Steve or you. The best thing I did was to stay out of it. I couldn't have forgiven myself if I fought any of you…" you say. "Tony wouldn't have admitted it...but I know he knew it wasn't something you could've controlled."

"Even then, I never got a chance to say something about it…" he says as he fidgets with the bottle. His cheekbones doing that thing you couldn't describe but you found attractive…

"I'm sure he understood in the long run…" you assure him. Bucky was looking at the floor, lost in thought.

"Hey, no. Let's not ruin the good moment we were having" you whine as you lean against him and he let out a soft chuckle. "We have to celebrate later with Sam. He is officially out there as Captain America," you raise your bottle and grin.

"True" you can see how proud Bucky was of Sam by the smile that appeared on his lips. "I'm glad he took the shield back."

"I'm sure he is too, and he will do a great job. He already did with that speech." There is a moment of silence. "I'll go get another one, you want one too?" You ask him noticing his beer was about to be empty.

"Uh, yeah, sure" he lifts it up.

You walk towards the kitchen and open the fridge, pulling two beers. "I have to restock-" you say as you turn around only to be met by Bucky's body a few inches away. His gaze was soft as he looked down at you. You could feel his hot breath close to you, and you were sure he could hear the fast beating of your heart. His tongue runs along his lips, and you can't help but bite on your lower lip as you look up into his eyes. "Bucky-"

"I just...want to try something…" his vibranium takes the beers from your hands and sets them aside, then resting it against the fridge, caging you, but where in any other situation you would've been defensive, you were calm because this was all Bucky, not the Winter Soldier. His other hand moves to the side of your neck, his fingers resting on the nape of it, moving ever so slowly. You can feel your cheeks flushing, your breath hitching as he leans in, his lips pressing against yours slowly. Three times you two have kissed, three times he has kissed you differently and three times you have felt different.

The first kiss was an impulse of yours, very out of place, but he kissed back anyway, even if it was a liplock kind of kiss. You felt guilty about it, you felt like you took advantage of the situation and you two had a small argument about how you shouldn't apologize for it. The second back at Sam's house which he initiated. It lasted somewhat longer than the first one, it was something that happened with the moment because you were talking about your status. Now this, which you wanted to kiss him as much as he wanted to try that something. You melted into the kiss, trying to mold your body against his. Your hands rest on both sides of his hip ever so lightly, your lips moving slowly against his, his tongue brushing your upper lip. Your head tilts, deciding to test the waters by deepening the kiss, and you were glad when he didn't pull away like the first time.

His body presses closer to yours and your fingers curl around his shirt, unconsciously pulling him closer. Your teeth graze his lips and he hums, and gosh you would lie if that didn't awaken something in you. He pulls away slightly, and you take the chance to get your breathing in check, your eyes open slowly while his remain close for a few more opens until his eyelids lift. "You good?" You ask under your breath and he nods, noticing he was short of breath as well. One of your hands let go of his shirt, moving up his side and wrapping around his neck, the one on your neck moves to your waist, holding you close to him but he leaves against the fridge his metal arm.

His lips connect with yours again, this time isn't slow, it's more urgent and you can't help but give into it. You bring him closer, if possible, as you tilt your head to deepen the kiss. Your tongue trails his lower lip, and he grants the access, a soft moan escaping your lips as his own intertwine with yours. His finger traces your skin where your shirt rolled a bit and you shiver under his touch at the contact of his hand touching a part of skin he hadn't touched before.

Then your phone goes off and you break the kiss, your forehead resting against his as you pant, so does Bucky. "I-"

"Yeah. It could be urgent…" he clears his throat and drops his left hand from the fridge and the one on your back. You look at his lips one last time, catching your breath before walking to the table and picking up your phone.

"Hey, Sam" you say as you look at Bucky who slowly turns to face you.

"Hey, kiddo. Just wanted to invite you and Barnes to a cookout my family will have tomorrow."

"Oh, uh" you look at Bucky who shrugs. "Sure, I'll let him know."

"He already knows, huh?" Sam chuckles.

"Shut up, Sam," you say playfully.

"Well, be safe. Have fun. Not too much fun though" Sam chuckles.

"Weren't you the one to tell us to take baby steps?"

"Depends on how big the baby already is."

"Sam!"

"I'll see you two tomorrow! Bye now!" And he hangs up.

You stare at the phone in your hand before sighing. "Cookout tomorrow?" You offer the man an apologetic smile, tapping your phone against your palm.

"Would be nice to go back," Bucky shrugs, leaning against the kitchen counter. "I go if you go."

"Only if you want to" you walk to the counter, standing on the other side of it so it was the only thing between you two. "We can take the first flight tomorrow. I can go and pick you up," you shrug. Then you have that idea… "Or you-" you stop yourself. Nope. Too straightforward. "Nevermind."

"What were you going to say?" His head tilts, eyeing you curiously.

"Oh, nothing" you put your phone down on the counter and scroll through the airline app looking for a flight. "There is a flight tomorrow at 5am. We can get there early to spend some good time there." Best attempt to change the subject, but when you look up, Bucky is eyeing you. "Oh, no. I'm not gonna talk."

His lips purse and he walks around the counter and you curse under your breath. "Would it be that bad?"

"Terrible actually," you swallow harshly as he stands in front of you, his arms crossing against his chest making his biceps bulge out. Why was he like this? His head nods in agreement, but he has that face that you know he won't let go of it until you speak up. You sigh. "Fine," you pause. "Can I walk you through a hypothetical?"

"Using my words. This sounds promising" he says, and you see that playful smile on his lips which purse as he waits for the answer. No matter how many times he smiled, you were glad about two things. One, that he was now falling to the Bucky he once was, he was getting his personality back. Two, that his smiles were around you, that you in a way have helped him. Yes, there was still a long way to go because he still hesitates about some things, but it was okay. Every new thing he tried you took it as a huge step.

"So, what if, hypothetically, you…" you trail off, "you stayed the night and we go to the airport." His gaze softens, and you see he is thinking of your words. "Hypothetically, okay? Like, just an idea. That way we just go straight to the airport." You can't help but chew on the inside of your cheek nervously.

"That's- I would- I would like that" he was stammering. "But, um...I don't want to make you feel-"

"If you say uncomfortable after you kissed me not more than five minutes ago I'm gonna kick your ass" you say and he smirks, but he remains somewhat serious. "You can sleep on the couch" you were regretting this. The more you say, the more you felt you were screwing it up. "I mean, if you want, Buck. It was a random suggestion." You wave off and turn around to continue looking for the flights.

"Hey" Bucky calls and you continue on your phone. His hand rests on your back before it reaches your waist and turns you around, you avoid his gaze but he bends down a little to meet it. "I would like nothing more than to stay with you, doll" he starts. "But I- I don't trust myself enough to stay around you while the nightmares are still there. I don't want to hurt you."

"Bucky," your hand rests on his cheek, his stubble poking the inside of your palm, feeling his warmth. "I trust you." He leans against your hand and kisses the inside of it, sending warmth all over your body. His cerulean eyes were looking at you with such affection that was making you weak. "I know the Winter Soldier is gone. It's just a matter of time that the nightmares will stop, when you feel more at ease."

"I know, doll" he nods his head and you smile softly at him. He pulls you closer to him, leaning in and kissing your forehead. Lips lingering there for a moment. "I'll go get my things. Text me which flight you choose" he says as he pulls away, letting go of your body before walking out the door.

You felt like this trip could help him. There was nothing to be worried about. No Zemo. No Karli. No Flag Smashers. He could now be at ease and sort his thoughts out now that he has finished his book. This could be the perfect getaway if things planned out right.