#angstroyaltynetwork

As the days passed by, work seemed to get a bit easier but of course, you still had anxious thoughts filling your head. What if you screwed something up? What if you get fired? What if you’re not good enough? You couldn’t help it. It came flowing in like a running river.  

You sat on the staff room couch, mindlessly chewing on whatever food you’d retrieved from the kitchen. You hadn’t noticed Joe’s presence in the room until he tapped you on the shoulder.  

“Deep thoughts?” He asked. You nodded, “About?”  

“Um, I don’t know, I wouldn’t want to bother you with my bullshit mind.”  

“Please,” he shoved you playfully with a smile, “bother away.” Joe was welcoming from the first moment you met him. You couldn’t help but develop a little crush. Like Harry, he always felt the need to check up on you. The only difference was, you couldn’t see Harry the way you saw Joe. Joe had this sweet essence to him, like you could make the worst mistake in the world and he’d still see you as this precious angel who could do no wrong. It had only been two weeks since you started and in that short time, you felt a familiar bubbly feeling in your stomach every time you saw him.  

“Well, I just- I feel like I’m gonna screw up so much, I like it- I mean, I love it here, you guys make me feel loved and I love my job.”  

“Y/N, you’re new to all of this, right?” You nodded, “This is your first job, you can’t be perfect straight away, you have to make mistakes or else you won’t get better.” 

“I guess, it just stems from coming from a family who expects everything from you but your everything isn’t good enough.” He rubs your back comfortingly, something that, so far, only Harry had done. For a moment you forget that it was Joe comforting you. 

“Look at this way, here you can make mistakes, you can fuck up and not be thought as if you’re not good enough, in this place, you can improve yourself, use it and abuse it.” He chuckles, “Seriously, if you need to talk whenever, pull me aside and we can hide out somewhere and talk, I’d rather you waste your time talking to me than be stressed and panicked while you work.” He stands up.  

“Thanks, Joe.” 

“Anytime.” Harry walks in with a goofy smile which made you laugh. Joe nods at Harry as he exits the room. You felt, from what you’d observed, Harry wasn’t exactly fond of Joe. Every flirtatious comment Joe would make, Harry would butt in with a snarky comment which would make you laugh but feel guilty about later. Within the last two days, you had scolded Harry about it five times. Five times out of the two days.  

“Wha’ was tha’ about? Yeh new lover?” Harry jokes.  

“Shut up, I just needed a bit of reassurance, I guess.”  

“About wha’?” Harry takes a bite out of his food and turns his body to face you.  

“Work.” Harry hums in response, “So, what’s going on with you? You’ve looked a little out of yourself lately and you’ve been snapping at the customers.” It was true. Harry’s appearance was not as clean as you were used to. His eyes were darkened, more than usual due to working late hours at the bar, they were sunken in and his bright smile had not made an appearance in a while. His hair was dishevelled and his glasses were streaked which he had yet to clean, 

“So, what’s the go, Styles?” He sighs and looks at you, setting his food down.  “I guess I could use some female wisdom ‘bout this.” You nodded, “M’kinda goin’ through a tough break up.” Your eyes widened, you didn’t even know he had a girlfriend. 

“Break up?”  

“With Camille.” Camille? She even had a pretty name.  

“Oh.” You pouted but fixed yourself up before he could notice, “Well, what’s happened?”  

“She couldn’t take th’ fact tha’ I’d be gone fo’ two years, I jus’ wanna live m’life, y’know? But I do love ‘er, I do, I jus’ wan’ ‘er t’wait fo’ me.”  

“Then she’s not worth it, Harry, let her leave, don’t drag this out, don’t hurt yourself.” 

“I love ‘er, Y/N.” He leans forward and rests his forehead on your shoulder.  

“Let her go, Har, if she loves you, she wouldn’t have minded the distance.” He pulls away and looks at you with a soft smile upon his lips.  

“This is wha’ makes me no’ believe tha’ yeh’ve nev’a had a boyfriend, yeh too smart, too wise.” You laughed and shove him playfully just as Joe did with you.  

“I’m just waiting for the right guy.”  

“He’s prob’ly righ’ in fron’ of yeh and he’s a lucky guy, m’tellin’ yeh.”  

“You must be a lucky guy then.” You take a sip from your water bottle, smiling. 

“Wha’?” 

“You know, coz you’re right in front of me?” He laughs, his smile widening, the same smile you’d been missing for the past week.  

“Yeh too fuckin’ cheeky fo’ yeh own good, lovie.” He pinches your cheek, making you roll your eyes, “Now, don’ go rollin’ those eyes a’ me, do yeh wanna get some food aft’a work?”  

“With you?” He nodded, “I’d be honoured!” You got up and held your hand out for him to take in which he did. He laughed as you pretended to be wearing a dress, “I’d gladly take your hand in marriage!” You said dramatically in a 50s southern accent, your other hand resting on your head. He twirled you around and you laughed, almost forgetting you were in a messy staff room.  

“Yeh so silly.” You nodded, and he checked his watch, “Time fo’ us t’get back t’work! Yeh an’ me, Burger King, three-thirty a.m.”

Harry waited for you after work. He doesn’t really like the idea of you walking around the streets of the city by yourself. He’d rather wait a couple of hours for you to finish than for you to end up in a ditch somewhere. Of course, not only was the benefit seeing you safe but also, he could get a couple of drinks in. The managers allowed a maximum of three drinks but only limited them to beer and cider which was enough for Harry to feel loose but not over intoxicated - still remembering that he wanted to hear you talk and he wanted to have a nice conversation with you over some greasy food.  

You came down, wrapping your scarf around your neck and zipping up your jacket. You smiled at him and waved, exhaustion almost taking over your body as you walked over to the booth.  

“Yeh ready t’go?” He asked. You nodded, and he stood up and hung his arm around your shoulders. You both walked on the wet pavement of the city in silence. It was only a seven-minute walk to the 24-hour fast food restaurants but of course, Harry being the chatty lad that he was, decided to make small talk, “How was yeh shift?” 

“Exhausting, I worked eleven and a half hours tonight, Har, I’m so tired!” 

“M’sure yeh are, we’ll grab summat t’eat and I’ll wait fo’ th’train with yeh, okay?”  

“Okay.” You both sat down on the red leather seats of the Burger King restaurant after ordering and grabbing your food. Drunk people surrounded you and the floors were covered in mud and dirty serviettes. You let out a huff.  

“Wha’s with all the huffin’ an’ puffin’, lovie?”  

“Well,” You awkwardly began, popping a nugget into your mouth, “I- I think I like Joe.”  

“I knew it!” He took a bite out of his burger, “Yeh always givin’ ‘im eyes.” 

“I don’t give anyone eyes, Styles.”  

“Bu’ yeh do, they’re like lovey dovey eyes, I see it all th’time! ‘Specially aroun’ Joe.”  

“Okay, maybe I do.” You couldn’t help but notice the way his body shifted. He moved over slightly, his body now not facing you as straight as it was before, and he looked down at his food, a short and dishonest smile made an appearance. He looked back up at you, “I-is there something wrong with that?”  

“Yeh jus’ no’ subtle ‘bout it, everyone kno’s.” Your cheeks flushed pink and you were so embarrassed it was like your throat closed up. You took a sip of your drink to drown down the food that you had popped into your mouth.  

“Am I really that bad?” He nodded. 

“M’sure he kno’s.” God, he was being brutally honest. You found a change of tone in his voice unlike his usual sweet one. He sighed and smiled at you, probably noticing his actions, “Why don’ yeh test th’ waters, lovie?” You knew what he meant. See how things go with Joe but from conversations you’ve had with Joe, you knew he was not a relationship kind of guy. 

“I can’t.” 

“Whaddyeh mean? ‘Ave some fun with it.” You placed your drink down after taking a sip. You looked at him with wondering eyes as if you were saying, you don’t know? 

“Harry… I’m a… virgin.” You said quietly, shyly watching people walk past you, “I’m kind of saving myself a-and Joe’s not exactly the relationship type.” 

“I ge’ yeh, lovie, nothin’ t’be embarrassed about.” He smiled at you, “I lost mine quite young, I don’ regret it but I kinda wish I knew wha’ it felt like t’do it with someone I loved.” 

“That’s my thing, I wanna do it with someone I love.” 

“Tha’s good, Y/N, keep yeh innocence fo’ as long as yeh can.” He smiled sweetly at you and let out a breath. Almost like he was relieved, “Yeh’ve musta had a lo’ of guys chasin’ after yeh.” 

“You would be surprised how short the line is.” 

“M’sure they’re there an’ yeh jus’ no’ lookin’ prop’ly coz yeh too busy goin’ after th’ wrong guy.” He sneakily took one of your nuggets, laughing.  

“Har, I’ve never even kissed a guy!”  

“Yeh jokin’!?” He exclaims after almost spitting out his drink. You shook your head.  

“I honestly wish I was, but no one wants me.”  

“He’s out there, lovie, jus’ be patient.” He takes your hand in his, “Yeh don’ have t’rush int’everythin’, like I said, he’s prob’ly right in front of yeh and yeh jus’ too caught up on th’wrong guy bu’ yeh kno… yeh can’t help bu’fall fo’ th’wrong guy.” 

“I hate when you’re right.” 

“An’ I hate when yeh get hurt so if Joe’s no’ int’relationships, don’ do it.” You nodded, “Yeh’ve got a train t’catch in ten minutes, le’s go, lovie.” You sat up on your bed all night, thinking about what Harry had said but your eyes decided to shut when the clock struck eight-thirty a.m. When you woke up, just in time, the text tone of your phone went off.  

From: Harry Mornin’, lovie, wanna grab smth to eat?  

You unlocked your phone and began to type back.  

To: Harry Could use some coffee right about now :/ 

From: Harry Amazing! Get up and get out of bed, we’re having brunch 

You couldn’t help but smile and giggle at his texts. Mornings weren’t really this happy before he came along.  

To: Harry Be there in 45 minutes  

From: Harry I’ll be waiting, lovie! 

You found that Harry preferred to be the one with the last say. He never left you on read. His texts were always to be the last text of the conversation but he did, however, more often than not, take the longest to reply. Suddenly, your text tone went off again when you picked up your jeans off of the floor.  

From: Joe Busy? 

Unusual. Joe never really talked to you outside of work unless the conversation was about work.  

To: Joe Why? 

From: Joe Wanna come to my basketball game? Would love to have someone to cheer me on. 

Your heart skipped a beat. What did this mean? Was this him asking you out? You didn’t know. 

To: Joe Okay, sure!

You exited out of the conversation, clicking on Harry’s text message from before. 

To: Harry Sorry, babycakes, something came up, rain-check? 

Harry waited by the steps of the train station, somewhere he usually dropped you off. He held your favourite drink in his hand. He tapped his foot excitedly on the steps. His phone goes off and his heart drops. 

That was the first time Harry had ever left you on read. 

MASTERLIST

PERMANENT TAGLIST:

When Steven Grant Rogers saved you and your friends from the Raft, freeing you from the restraints of a straightjacket and the watchful, hateful eyes of the security guards, you felt relieved for one moment. One blissful moment.

That is until you see the tensed shoulders of Natasha as she maneuvers the Quinjet, her side-eyeing and stiff posture signaling for unease to crawl its way back to you.

It’s then that you finally see Steve; he’s abandoned his Captain America apparel, opting for an attire of dark blues and blacks, optimal for when you want to not be seen, his smile far too wide and far too frequent as he chatters with the others.

“Sorry I couldn’t make it sooner” Steve said, looking around the team –his team, standing in the Quinjet, somewhat free. “We’ll try not to hold it against you” Wanda smirks from where she stood, obviously pleased to be wearing a proper shirt now as she emerged from the depths of the Quinjet with you.

“This has been fun” Clint began, clasping Steve by his broad shoulder before continuing “but believe me when I say I am officially retired now”.

It feels odd to you, their exchanges, Steve’s chuckles and responses, Nat’s quiet-self, as if it was holding off a foreboding situation, an imminent tale-tell sign of some horrid event. But you tried to keep that feeling at bay, tried to join them in a moment of joyousness, to believe in Steve.

So you followed him, followed him and Natasha and Sam in saving the world. You helped them by gathering intel about terrorists using alien technology for destruction, helped them bring organizations down.

Like old times.

As if nothing’s changed.

Fast-forward to a year and a half later, where you’re just in the lab of Princess Shuri, the sister of King T’Challa of Wakanda, discussing with her about her latest technology and referencing pop-culture to name her creations when that feeling of dread and ominousness settles in your heart once more, pausing abruptly your laughter with Shuri.

“What’s the matter, (y/n)?” she asked worriedly, settling her hand delicately on your shoulder.

It wouldn’t be fair to admit to her the whole of your worries –she already has enough on her plate, so you shake your head lightly, before telling her “it’s nothing”.

Later that week, you hear word that Steve is coming back to Wakanda for a quick visit, prompting for you to finally ask him what you should’ve asked him back in the Quinjet the day he helped you escape. T’Challa has kindly set up a room apartment for you in his home, giving you privacy that he suspected you needed when you decided to stop being on the run a year ago, too spent in discovering the extent of HYDRA and AIM’s arm-dealers and exploitations.

When you see the familiar outline of the Quinjet emerging into the dome from the window of your apartment, you swallow thickly the lump in your throat.

“Steve, I need to ask you something”

It’s the words he’s been terrified of hearing from you, even though he knew it was inevitable. Sitting across from you in your living room, he prepares himself for… for what, exactly, he wasn’t sure, but he’s certain that the outcome of it would tear him apart, that he would once again go through of losing someone he loves. He can’t show his fears right in-front of you –not now, not ever, because that emotion doesn’t fit to describe him, that fear is not an emotion Steven Grant Rogers should feel. So he bows his head and clasps his hands together (he chucks it to old habits), sighing deeply and quietly before he lifts his eyes to meet yours.

They’re not filled with anger like he anticipated; your eyebrows aren’t furrowed, angry lines proving for the rage simmering beneath your exterior. Instead, he sees pain –pain that’s mirrored his.

And it physically hurts him to see your gaze, a throb deep in his chest the cause of his sudden short breath, his body already so afraid of the storm that’s making its way to his world, threatening whatever happiness that he has left.

You slowly make your way to where he’s sitting –to where he is slowly falling apart on the inside, and take the empty seat right across from him, unaware of his inner turmoil.

The silence engulfs him whole. You don’t know where to start, unsure how to put into words these thoughts and questions without destroying your perception of your leader, your captain, your Steve. Those blue eyes you’ve seen, fell for, swam and now drowning in, held the ultimate truth.

You swallow thickly the lump in your throat and blinking once, breaking the gaze.

“Back before” you began shakily, clearing your throat to will your voice to be strong for just a moment, “when you saved us from the raft” you continued, wringing your hands together now, hyper-aware of his eyes looking straight at you.

There wasn’t a way that this wouldn’t hurt, wouldn’t wound the both of you, wouldn’t damage the dance the two of you had before things happened. There’s sand in your mouth, drying your tongue and throat, the words sinking deeper into your chest, supposedly ignored and avoided.

You closed your eyes and sighed heavily. It can’t be held any longer.

“Steve, what happened?”

The question sounds simple, easy, with the answer direct, but it wasn’t to him. So much has happened that he doesn’t know how to explain it without ruining everything, bursting this protective bubble he’s made you both –made his family, live in.

There’s a whisper luring him, encouraging him to answer you delicately stemmed no doubt from his fear; it mutters sweetly to him to tell you everything but what happened because your question had a loop hole. So much has happened that he can choose to hide the harsh truth from you, from the world.

But that would be wrong. His heart laden with guilt heavier than the responsibilities that’s weighing him on his shoulders.

Choose.

You and honesty, or his pride and arrogance?

He knows the answer. It’s painfully obvious, isn’t it? It is painfully obvious that either answers hold the inevitable; that he will, in the end, lose you too. He knows he should say something by no –he’s been far too quiet for far too long, but he still can’t bring himself to say the words. He’s been preparing himself for this since the beginning, using his missions with Natasha and Sam as an escape, to hold it off for a while so he can savior any moments left with his friends, his family, and you.

He swallows the lump in his throat before speaking.

“Where do you want me to start?”

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You’d met many times before and you would consider him a friend, you and Chris. No conversation was ever dry or boring, everything felt so comfortable. Every time you would talk, the exchange would end in laughs. You’d met through mutual friends like Sebastian and events like parties. Of course, every time, you were seeing someone and so was he.

When you had landed the role of a new movie starring yourself and your dear friend, Chris, you were more than psyched to actually get to know him better. While on set, you had learned a lot of what he loved. For example, he loved to play piano (although he believed he was terrible, in which you would always argue with him that he was amazing), his love for the New England Patriots was endless but it would never succeed his love for his dog, Dodger. Dodger, the lover of other dogs and his little stuffed lion, had Chris wrapped around his paw.

Chris finally came around to inviting you to dinner at his house after months and long hours of shooting scenes. As soon as you entered the house, you were jumped by the not so little puppy as Chris had described. You didn’t complain, you just laughed and returned the love to Dodger, accepting the licks on your face.

“Oh, hello there.” You laughed,

“C’mon, little guy, get down!” You patted the dog’s head and he jumped down from you, pouncing around you in excitement,

“He’s a lot bigger than I expected! You described him much smaller.” Dodger trailed behind you as you entered the kitchen and helping Chris with dinner.

It wasn’t too long after when Chris found out you had adopted a dog too. You were moving into your new house, so much closer to your job and you didn’t have to fly out and rent a place every time you had a new show or a new movie in Los Angeles. The weather was better too and your newly added best friend, Missy, a Jack Russell Terrier, loved the heat and the days where she could play in the park. Chris helped you move into your new place, not too far from his own, Dodger by his side and Missy right by yours.

“What made you move from NYC?” Chris asks while grabbing a box from the moving van, he had suggested that you get someone else to do all the moving in for you, but you were the type of person who liked to do things for yourself, so you could have the satisfaction of saying that you did it,

“You know, filming and shit is so much closer and easier to get to, I don’t have to waste money on plane tickets and plus, the weather is great here.”

“Yeah, I get it.” He smiled at you as you both took boxes into the house, “Well, I’m glad you moved out here, so I can see you a lot more.” You nodded and placed those last two boxes on the floor, “You think we can take a break?” You almost zoned out completely when he wiped the sweat from his forehead, making you bite your lip,

“Uh, what?”

“You wanna grab some sandwiches or something?” You shook yourself back into concentration,

“Yeah, yeah, I could really use one.” You both walk out into the garden to find Dodger nudging his head into his toy, offering his stuffed lion to your Missy, “Fast friends, aren’t they?”

It was seven long months before you could see Missy again and Chris too. Filiming had taken over your life and you had no time to talk to your friends and family or even post on social media. You were extremely tired. So, when you arrived home after those seven months, you crawled into bed and didn’t leave its warmth for another two days, snuggled up with your trusty Missy. Unbeknownst to you, you were beginning to get sick, only noticing when the worst had come; a blocked yet runny nose, a chest infection, and a pounding headache. You groaned as you heard the knocks at the door cursing at whoever was disturbing you. Nevertheless, you fixed your hair and tied your robe over your pyjamas and opened the door. On your doormat stood the six-foot-something, broad shouldered Chris. You whinged at the sight of the sun.

“Didn’t you get my texts? You look sick.” Chris says, concern surround the tone of his voice,

“I, uh, didn’t charge my phone when I got home.”

“Y/N… That was three days ago, you haven’t gotten out of bed since?” You shook your head and motioned him into your house, Dodger following behind him,

“I had a shower last night but that’s it.” You plopped yourself onto the sofa and sighed, “My nose and my head are killing me, everything is killing me.” Dodger whines and places his head on your knee, looking at you with worried eyes,

“He can feel you’re unwell, he’s worried.”

“I’m alright, boy, I’ll be okay.” You said with awe, stroking the fur on his head. As you bring your focus on Dodger, Chris is carrying Missy and scratching her ear while looking at you. He smiles while stares at you, not knowing why. He shakes himself back in the room and places Missy next to you,

“Hungry?” You nod. He makes his way to your kitchen and begins the preparation to make you some soup. Moments later, he makes his way over to the sofa where you lay and places the bowl on the table. As he turns his attention to you, he notices the soft snores coming from you, Dodger, who was sprawled on your legs, and Missy, who was resting on your chest, your arms cradling her. He laughs and strokes your hair back from your face, your eyes flickering open at the sight of his face, “Good morning, sleepy head.”

“Hi.”

“I made you something to eat.” You pat Dodger on the head and sit up, he hands you the bowl and you thank him. He turns on the TV, sitting beside you with Dodger snuggled on your side and Missy snoring on Chris’ lap. You both hadn’t paid attention to the TV, busily chatting about work and how much you both miss your family. It wasn’t long until silence covered your mouths, quiet snores filled the room, the sound of infomercials drowning out in the background; both of you unknowingly snuggled together on the chaise of the sofa, your head resting on Chris’ chest and his chin resting on your head.

You both woke up in the morning as if sleeping snuggled against each other was a reoccurring thing for you to do. He smiled at you, a groggy ‘good morning’ coming from his lips. Suddenly, he sneezes,

“Shit, I’m sorry!” You laugh.

Dodger and Missy circled you and Chris as you both sat on the sand, waiting for the sun to set. Chris had just told you that after the night you had spent together a few months before, Dodger began to get whiney when you weren’t around, that he really loved you, probably more than Chris himself.

“So, Y/N, what are you doing next week?” Chris asked, his hand digging into the sand,

“Nothing, why?”

“It’s my birthday on Tuesday and I’m going home to celebrate with my family, do you wanna, you know, come?” Your family affairs weren’t exactly your cup of tea. The constant nagging to get married and have kids as if you were made for that sole purpose only, made you groan in frustration, as you were, as you yourself fully knew, were so much more than that. But if you were invited to someone else’s family affair, especially a birthday, it wouldn’t be so bad. You nodded and thanked him. Suddenly, you felt a head of hair nudge your arm and lift its head with a stick in its mouth. You stroked Dodger’s fur and laughed,

“Yes, of course, I’ll play with you.”

Tuesday came around like a race car. You were packed and dressed, ready to be picked up and taken to Massachusetts. Knocks were heard coming from your front door. You took a little jog from your room to the door, opening it to Chris embracing you.

“Happy Birthday, handsome!” You cheered, reaching around to hug him back,

“Thank you.”

“Let’s go?” You called out to your friend who came running in with Dodger and Missy, “Behave, you two.” You joked to the two pups before thanking your friend for dog sitting,

“They’re tied to the tails.” Chris laughed, making you agree.

After the flight from LA to Boston, you were greeted at the gate by Chris’ mom and one of his sisters. He gave them a hug and introduced you, his hand placed lightly on the small of your back, gently nudging you in a supportive manner.

“This is my friend, Y/N Y//L/N.” He says, smiling,

“Ah, finally, we’ve seen you in the movie and Christopher, here, is always talking about how amazing you are,” His mom explains, “I’m Lisa.” She gave you a hug,

“I’m Carly.” Carly’s hug following right after. In that moment you knew where Chris got his embracive side, making you smile. You and Chris walk to the car, your bags slung over your shoulders and Chris’ hand still on the small of your back,

“You talked about me?” You asked quietly,

“Was I n-not-”

“No, no, it’s cool, it’s cute.” Your cheeks flushed crimson and you smiled up at him, the space closing between the both of you but was interrupted by the sound of Carly’s voice telling you that the trunk of the car was open for your bags, making you walk away from an almost eventful moment. You had a wonderful time chatting with Carly and Lisa in the car on the way back to their house, laughter and gasps of baby stories of Chris filled the vehicle. You complimented the house and thanked Lisa for letting you stay with her family. Chris went up to his room and Carly showed you your bedroom, thanking her straight after,

“Everyone should be arriving soon, just a warning, we’re all really loud.” You laughed and shook your head,

“I love loud.”

“Then you’ll fit right in.” And Carly was just right, the entire night you were a perfect fit with Chris’ family and friends. Everyone loved you and spent the night surrounding you, telling you stories about Chris in his younger years.

Chris couldn’t stop staring at you and how beautiful you looked, how you easily got along with every single person in the room. He was amazed, in awe at how you captured everyone without even trying. He looks at you longingly, not being able to help it at this point. Everyone was truly in awe of you. God, even his dog loved you. By the end of the night, everyone and their mothers had told Chris how lucky he was to have you and what a keeper you were. He knew that in himself. He knew because he was in love with you.

He couldn’t sleep that night and neither could you. The rain was pouring cats and dogs and the thunder crashed boomingly, startling you every time it made an appearance. Suddenly, your phone vibrates indicating you had a text.

With that, you hear a knock on the door of the bedroom. You push the covers off of you and open it. Chris stands in his white shirt and shorts and you in your old college shirt, a couple of sizes too big for you, and some sleeping shorts. He takes your hand and leads you to the Queen-sized bed. You snuggle close to him as he rubs your back, his chin resting on your head.

“Thank you.” You whispered, gripping his shirt as another crash of thunder came,

“It’s okay.” You feel warm and safe in his arms,

“Your heart,” you begin, “it’s beating really fast.”

“Sorry.”

“No,” you laugh, “I don’t mind, it’s helping me focus, actually.”

“Oh?”

“That sounded less creepy in my head.” You both burst into laughter but quiet yourselves as quickly as you started, “You have a lovely family.” You look up at him,

“Thank you, they all love you, seriously, I’ll never hear the end of it if I let you go.”

“Then don’t.” Silence fills the room. As he holds you, he feels you relax even more,

“Y/N?” He whispers,

“Yeah?” He looks at the way the moonlight shines on your face perfectly,

“I really want to kiss you.”

“Okay.” His hand then cups your cheek and pulls you close, closing the already small gap between the both of you, crashing his lips onto yours. As your mouths move against each other, your hand moves to grip the hand on your cheek, his kiss deepening. When you both get the chance to pull away, something you didn’t really want to do, you were breathless,

“I’ve been wanting to do that since you got sick.”

“Ew, what?” You laughed,

“Oh, god, no, I meant the day you got sick, I saw how you were with Dodger and I just- I saw how we could be together and I just loved you.” Your eyes grow wide,

“Woah.”

“Shit, no, wait, I-”

“I love you too.” He stops his rambling and pecks your lips,

“Thank, God.” Before you knew it, the birds had began chirping and the sunrise was peeking in through the window, you both looked at each other, “Let’s sleep now?” You laughed and nodded,

“Okay.”

MASTERLIST

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Wanda walked down the white hallways of the compound, looking to see your familiar face. The face of her good friend, although she wished you were more than just friends. A minute hadn’t passed when she heard the familiar sound of your laugh. She followed the sweet sound of your giggles, smiling at your voice. Wanda stops at the doorframe of the entrance of the common room at the sight of you and Bucky. He holds a cup in his hand, his other tucking away a loose strand of your hair behind your ear. Wanda hides behind the door, just enough so she could hear the goings on between the both of you.

“Y/N…” Bucky begins, “You know, I uh- I really like you,” Wanda’s hands begin to clench tightly, she could feel her cheeks heating up, “I was wondering if you would like to go out to dinner some time?” You look down on the ground and smile, Wanda takes this as your response to his offer and impulsively uses her power to her advantage. She looks at the cup in Bucky’s hand and tips it’s content, spilling it all over your top, “Oh my god- Y/N, I didn’t mean to do that! That was-” As you clean yourself as much as you could you see the shadow of your friend taking off into the hallway,

“That wasn’t you, it was Wanda.” You squeeze his arm and excuse yourself out of the room.

Wanda, to you, was more than a friend. You actually liked her and by that, it’s meant to be taken as the romantic kind of ‘like’. She had arrived at the Avengers tower two years ago when you found her breathtakingly incredible. You watched her from afar for a while, not wanting to overwhelm her completely. You both greeted each other here and there, and she showed you all the fascinating things she could do with her powers before you both realised that you had just created a friendly bond. It wasn’t very long before you realised that you had begun catching feelings for Wanda and unfortunately, when you realised it, Pietro had just got caught while on a mission. You stayed with her every day and every night until she was ready to get out into the world.

You heard her bedroom door slam loudly when you suddenly heard Tony’s voice through the speaker, “What did I say about slamming doors, Wanda!?”, making you laugh. You stood in front of the door and smiled, opening it and entering the room.

“Have you ever heard of knocking?” She asked in an acerbic manner,

“Have you ever heard of not eavesdropping?”

“I was not eavesdropping; you and your boyfriend were talking way too loud.” You laughed at her attitude. A moment of silence drowned the both of you,

“So?”

“So, can you get out? I have things to attend to.” She hissed, walking over to her desk,

“What things? All your drawings are finished, I looked at them this morning.”

“You were in my room this morning?” You nodded, “Why?”

“We were supposed to go out to breakfast.” She rolled her eyes and went back to her pencil and paper, beginning a new drawing. You sat on the bed and waited for her to respond, something with never came. You swivelled her chair to face you, “What’s bothering you, Wan?”

“Nothing that concerns you.”

“You ruined my shirt by the way.”

“It was already ruined, I can smell Bucky on you.” She remarked, swivelling her chair back. You were left speechless, your mouth agape,

“You don’t like the smell?”

“Was that not obvious enough?” She looked at you for a second before turning back to her drawing,

“Fine.” You lifted up your shirt, slipping it off of your body, and throwing it into the bathroom, “Better?”

“What are you doing?”

“Well, you didn’t seem too fond of my shirt.” You retorted with a laugh. You got on your knees and swivelled Wanda’s chair back to you, pulling her closer, “Does this look better?” You ask in a low voice, her eyes diverting to your accentuated breasts as she bit her lip,  

“That bra is ugly.” She stands up from her seat, making you stand up and take as step back onto the edge of the bed,

“Should I take this off too then?”

“Maybe I should just rip it off.” She whispers, pushing you onto the bed and taking off her tight, red singlet,

“I think you should.” She comes close to your face, feeling her hot breath on your lips; her hand traces gently in between your breasts, “Please, Wanda.” You whisper. Before you knew it, your bra was torn in half, making your gasp as the cold air winds against your warm body,

“You are beautiful, printesa.” Her thumb grazes your bottom lip, “Is this okay?”

“Yes.” She leans down and catches your lips with her own. As the both of your lips move against each other, your hands unclip her bra and she stops kissing you for a second, tossing the undergarment across the room and going back to attacking your soft lips. Both your hands explore the curves of each other’s bodies, moans escaping your mouths in return of the soft traces and rough hand grabbing. You pull away from her hungry lips and begin to leave a trail of kisses from her neck, to her collarbone, and down through the space between her breasts, your hands gently squeezing her sensitive nipples. She gasps, pushing you closer as your warm mouth surrounds her hard nipple, your tongue swirling around the sensitive nub. Wanda’s head tilts back as she feels the energy from your hand grabbing her ass, the same time your lips are around her nipple. She feels drunk on the pleasure, the moans coming out of her mouth completely uncontrollable. You pull away from her and she rests her forehead on your forehead, unbeknownst of the sweat that had formed on her skin, making you both sticky. You lay her on her back and kiss down her body, her hands wrapping themselves into your hair, “Wanda, fuck.”

“Malysh, please, please touch me, do anything you want to me.” You look up and see the hunger in her eyes, “Please.” You smirk and gently drag your finger between her folds, dampening her clit with her wetness. You suck on her throbbing clit, making her back arch and her hands pull on your hair. You moan when you hear her whisper your name desperately. As she feels your warm mouth swirling against her wet, pulsating nub, she also feels the energy of fiery arousal run through your veins and through your touches, further activating her excitement. The energy between you both becoming like crackling electricity, “Fuck, fuck, malysh, yes!”

“You taste so good, Wanda, so fucking sweet.” Your fingers make their way into her slick entrance, slowly, sliding in and out with a come-hither motion, “Yes, baby.”

“Jesus Christ, oh fuck! Right there!” Her already intertwined hands begin to tightly pull and grip the roots of your hair, making you groan against her clit, the reaction vibrating against her perfectly. Her back arches as you lap on her pussy, making her scream in pleasure. Wanda clenches her stomach and her legs begin to close around your head, her pants getting shorter and grip getting tighter around your hair, “Stop, stop, stop.” You lifted your head up in panic, immediately ceasing your actions. You climb to see her face to face, worry surrounding your eyes and cup her face in your hands, kissing her lips,

“What’s wrong? Are you okay? Did I do something wrong?”

“No, no, you didn’t.”

“What is it?”

“I want you to cum with me, printesa.” She smiles, pushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear. You nodded and interlocked your spread legs together before giving her a deepening kiss, “Fuck.” She whimpered, digger her nails into your sticky thighs as you both rubbed against each other. You could feel the heat of her cunt against your hot, wet pussy and leaned forward to press yourself harder into her, your hand grabbing her boobs as her hands drove you harder into her. Your thrusts began to intensify as your orgasm neared,

“Wanda, baby, I’m gonna cum, fuck, fuck!”

“M-me too.” She pants, barely getting out the two words,

“Fuck! Fuck! I’m there! I’m cumming!” Wanda feels you thrust harder into her, triggering her orgasm, “Fuck! I love you, fuck!” Her stomach clenches, her legs begin to shake, and she lets out high pitched moan as her orgasm begins to ripple throughout her body. She jerks into you as her body tires out into aftershocks.

You roll off of her and cover the both of you in the thin white sheet on her bed. You lay on her chest, panting and listening to the steadying of her racing heartbeat. Suddenly, you feel the nervousness radiating off her body.

“Wan?” You whisper, making her turn over to face you, “This isn’t a one-time thing,” You take her small hands and kiss them as if they were the most fragile things in the world, “you can take a peek,” you put her pointer finger against your temple, “in here, if you’d like.”

“Okay.” She whispers,

“Tell me what you see.” She shuts her eyes and wanders into your thoughts, red energy generating from her fingertips,

“I see you.”

“Where am I?”

“In a house… Me, I see me,” you look up at her face. Her eyebrows are now relaxed, and her mouth is agape, “There is a little boy,” she gasps, “h-he called me Mama and you too.” She opens her eyes to reveal your adorn ridden face,

“I want you to be by my side for the rest of my life, Wan, I love you so much.”

“I love you too, krasavista.” You take her face in your hands and guide her lips to yours, “You really think we’re going to have a son?”

“As long as my kids are your kids too, I don’t care what we have.”

MASTERLIST

“I’m busy, (y/n)” he said, the agitation he tried to conceal growing with every second you were talking.

“Oh” was all you could say, the shock that coursed through you was disabling you from controlling your emotions. For a brief moment, you stood there with your phone pressed between your shoulder and ear, both hands laden with paper bags from your errands. But, somehow, you quickly collected yourself, ignoring the way your heart was beating with an all-too-familiar ache of fear and dread.

“I’ll see you soon” you speedily tell him, hoping that would be enough to cover your moment of falter. “I love you” but the other end had long ago ended.

You let your phone crash onto the floor, the sound alone was enough to tell you that another additional crack would be present on your phone screen. You clutched the groceries you purchased before mobilizing your feet to walk over the kitchen counter, settling the food items you bought to make Bucky his favorite meals, the energy to go through with your plan to surprise him with home-made food when he returned now gone, leaving you to feel the anxiety shaking your body whole.

Several days pass by in a blur of waking up to an empty bed, will yourself out of the sheets after another night of restlessness, drinking cold coffee because you were lost in your thoughts, and senselessly doing your work at the boring corporate office in the business district you had sold your soul to.

You had resigned yourself to the possibility of this relationship coming to an end –a thought that only now weighed so heavily in your head. Maybe you were just over-thinking again. It wouldn’t be the first time you had done that. Insecurities kept plaguing you, and you thought it had ended when Bucky decided to move in with you as an assurance that you were the only one he wanted.

What if that’s changed? a voice whispered at the back of your mind. God, not again you thought to yourself.

It was early morning, way too early; the sun was barely even up, a few stars still littering the dark sky, and a quietness blanketed the city of New York for a brief moment. Another restless night ended you sitting on your couch, the only light illumining the dark space was the muted tv, the blue illuminating your state. You had your hands in your hair as you gently rocked back and forth, the raw emotions engulfing you whole as your insecurities whispered their evil thoughts, pulling you deeper into a hole you had clawed your way out since being with him.

The sound of the door clicking didn’t register to you until it was shut gently behind.

“(y/n)?” he asked, before dropping his bag onto the floor.

You looked up, hoping that it was real; that you weren’t hallucinating Bucky standing there in front of the door, his beautiful face dusted with stubbles that highlighted his jawline. His hair was longer, draping over his mesmerizing blue eyes.

“hey” you whispered, standing up from the couch and making your way to him. Instantly you wrapped your arms around him, wanting to feel his heat against your body to confirm he was actually, physically here. He confirmed that when he immediately pulled you closer to him, his face buried at the crook of your neck. You let out a breath, puffing his hair in the process. God only knew how much you missed him.

And he knew that too. He knew about it when his eyes landed on you hunched over the couch, instead of finding you in the bedroom sound asleep like you should be. So he shifted to kiss you, anchoring you back to earth, back to him just as he always did.

And he tasted the same, felt the same. Neither of you could seem to let go of each other as you made your way onto the bed; he knew your body adeptly, hands and lips equally roaming your body as if you were an atlas, touching you and filling you like you were made for him.

Well, almost.

There’s still a nagging feeling inside, screaming at your heart to prepare for the inevitable but your brain intercepts with a calm but firm voice; it’s just your insecurities –you know better than that. So you let yourself believe that nothing was wrong, that you were over-thinking again, and allowed him to pleasure you, made you scream his name in delight. The calm before the storm.

Time passes again, and things resumed back to normal –except for the nagging voices

Ooh, and I bet, she has it all Bet she's beautiful like you, like you And I bet she's got that touch Makes you fall in love, like you, like you

“The party’s inside, you know that right?” a voice said, making you tear your eyes from the view of New York and to one of the Avengers. He was out of his costume, a cold bottle of beer in hand. The thought that these people lived normal lives was still something you can’t get your head around; that they were anything less than the superheroes the media portrayed. You bit your bottom lip, unable to recall his name without his usual outfit from the many pictures displayed on tv.

“Clint Barton” he introduced himself, noticing your struggle to remember. You took his hand with a sheepish smile, before apologizing.

“Sorry. I can’t seem to recognize anyone without their gears”

Clint shook his head with a smile on his lips. “It’s alright. We rarely see you around anymore. Busy with work?” he asked as he brought his beer to his lips and drinking it. And the small talks ensued.

You told him parties weren’t your thing, that the view caught your eye, which was why you were here alone, preferring the cold air and silence rather than the noises the party made. “I understand that completely” he let out a laugh, before continuing “Stark, he’s not one to shy away from throwing extravagant parties. We all love him” he paused, glancing at the glassed walls displaying the liveliness of the party, and then sighed “but sometimes it’s a bit much”

You gave a half-smile to show you agreed with him, hide the fact that the actual reason you weren’t inside was because you couldn’t stand her.

She was just beautiful; perfect body, perfect hair, perfect smile. In a glance you saw your imperfections, the kind of woman Bucky should have beside him. She was as beautiful as she was deadly –a perfect combination. You wondered what he even saw in you, what made him be with you. When her eyes landed on you, she gave a small smile. One that you didn’t return as you exited. It was too much.

I can taste her lipstick and see her laying across your chest Maybe I should be more like her Maybe I should be more like her Ay she's perfect Ay she's perfect

It was the image of Natasha Romanoff with Bucky Barnes together that motivated you to join a Krav Maga class. After work, you’d be found in a studio space, learning boxing and self-defense. Each punch you threw reminded you of your flaws, every kick you jolted a way for you to be better, to be her. The soreness and ache around your body after every session was like token to you, an indication that change was coming and you were preparing. Maybe you’ll finally have something in common with him?

“Where’ve you been? I’ve been calling but your phone was dead” Bucky almost yells when you open the front door one night, sweaty and tired. You smelt the scent of tomato and cheese in the air. Before the door was shut behind, his arms were already wrapped around you.

You flinched when his hug was in contact with a forming bruise on your side. He recoiled instantly, worry clearly seen in his eyes. Without a word, he traced to your side before softly pushing his fingers onto your flesh. You clenched your jaw and winced once more.

“It’s nothing” you clarified, moving away from him and dropping your bag to the couch. “Did you cook?” you asked, hoping he’ll drop the matter as you made your way to the kitchen.

But of course he didn’t. So he asked if anything happened. You were busying yourself in the kitchen, checking what was in the oven, open the fridge for some water, getting plates out to try and ignore his attempts. When he was silent, you thought he’d finally drop the subject, knowing that when you were ready you’d tell him.

But it was far from that. In fact, Bucky had moved to stand in front you, his hands gripping your face delicately as he brushed your cheeks with his thumb. His face was inches from yours, and when he spoke you could feel his warm breath.

“Did someone hurt you?” he asked softly, but he couldn’t contain the slight panic in his voice and the way his blue eyes dilated with fear, the tension on his shoulders. You realized then that maybe all of it was just in your head, that maybe he did love you. You could only shake your head in response, slightly taken aback by his sincerity in that moment.

“No. Nothing like that” you said before pulling yourself away from him, now uncomfortable under his gaze. “I was just at the gym” you told him simply.

“You do know I’m a master spy and former assassin right? You’re horrible at lying” he said with a playful tone, needing a comical moment before the inevitable.

You sighed, half preparing yourself and half in frustration. You weren’t expecting to be confronted this soon.

“I just thought…” you mumbled, twisting the hems of the hoodie you wore, wracking your brain for another reason to cover up your real intentions, not wanting to scare him away with your thoughts. You heard him shift, taking a calculated step to you. You need to tell him something before he was too close.

“I feel safer if I knew how to protect myself” you said, the words stumbling out of your mouth like train wreck, holding onto the little confidence that was still in you. “Since you’re going on longer missions now” you added, hoping he’ll buy it. Technically, what you said wasn’t a lie. You covered your face and inhaled a sharp breath, expecting him to ask you once more, to demand the truth from you. He always could see through you, through everyone.

“Doll, you’re the cutest”

Crashing on your skin Burning within, burning so deep, deep On your skin, skin next to me                     She's crashing on your skin Settling in, burning so deep, deep On your skin

And so it seems everything was perfect again; the whispers were slowly muted, replaced instead with the growing love shared between you and Bucky. Though his missions meant he was rarely ever home anymore -his work taking almost up to three weeks now, you weren’t tormented when you were alone. Instead you felt secured every time he kisses you before leaving, ridding you from your own paranoia.

Then Sunday came. One beautiful Sunday, a picturesque scenery over Central Park where you were enjoying your weekend, sitting on a bench with a book in hand. It’d been almost two weeks since you’d last seen Bucky. Pulling out your phone, you read the text he sent again, your index finger brushing over his name.

Just got back. Crashing at the compound. Sorry, doll.

Pocketing your phone, you stood up, a firm decision on surprising your boyfriend with pizza planted in your mind. You hailed a cab and told the driver the pizza place with a cheerful tone.

“It’s a good day today, right?” the driver commented, noticing your grin. You nodded in response, before he introduces himself to you.

“My name is Dopinder” he says with a welcoming smile, and then proceeded to do small talks with you. You don’t remember a time where taxi drivers in this city was ever as polite and nice to you as this one had, making the trip to the pizza place a short one. Thankfully he also didn’t mind waiting as you made your order.

With a large pizza in one hand, you walked into the Avengers facility feeling happy –content even, as if the black cloud that was so insistent to hang over your head had cleared, allowing sunshine and positivity illuminating you. You felt like you were physically glowing, and with each step you took that made you closer to your destination, you couldn’t help but let your lips be present with a smile.

Your cheeks are killing you right now, but you don’t mind. It felt like ages ago that you felt this bloody good about yourself and everything in your life. Stepping into the elevator, the AI knowing full well who you are, sent you straight to the living quarters. There’s fluttering in your chest when the door slides open, revealing to you a modern living room and kitchen, where a few Avengers were relaxing.

“Well, look who it is!” Clint’s voice booms through the space when you step out. You wave him with your empty hand.

“Is that for us?” chimes a silver-haired boy his eyes landing on the huge square box. “Don’t be silly” a voice responds for you, a girl with beautiful long dark hair, her eyes temporarily glowing with red but it disappears once she stands up. “I’m Wanda. Ignore my brother” she said.

“I’m (y/n)” you introduce yourself. “Sorry I didn’t buy any for you guys” you began to apologize, but Clint is quick to counter, saying it was nothing to worry about.

“I’ll go see Bucky now. He texted me he just got here” you excuse yourself, failing to see the confused looks that the others exchanged between themselves.

Though it’d been a log while since you stepped foot on the compound, the walk to Bucky’s room was one you knew quiet well, as if the long corridor and its turns was engraved in your brain, your feet knowing where to go as you walked forwards, every step pumping more adrenaline in your veins at seeing the love of your life after some time apart. You couldn’t wait to see his face, beaming at the sight of you surprising him.

A left turn was all it took for you to be right in front of his door. Without knocking, you turned the knob and pushed the door open.

“Hey, Bu–“

You didn’t manage to verbalize anything, the words clogged down your throat at the sight in front of you.

He wasn’t alone.

For a moment the world stilled; your eyes land on him with his hands on a tiny waist of a beautiful girl, her hair cascading down her almost bare back, as his lips kiss the exposed skin of her neck. You couldn’t breathe, the wind being knocked out of you at the sight of him. Your heart jumps, not from excitement anymore, but rather as force to pump blood and oxygen –the things your body severely needs right in this moment.

Then everything moved in slow motion; his eyes go up to the door, to find you standing there as the box in your hand drops to the ground. The girl on his bed reaches for the sheets to cover herself as she spins to see who’d disturb this moment. You see his shocked expression as he gets up from the bed, wide eyes as he rushes to get to you.

Instantly you recoil, and everything seemed to be too loud afterwards. He’s saying things you can’t register, your eras being pierced with a loud ringing noise, muffling his voice as a background commotion. Your hands and legs feel weak, the joints feeling wobbly as you take as much steps to distance yourself from this man.

“what’s going on?” another voice interrupts, and your wild eyes sees a recognizable red-head.

You’d initially thought she was the one he’d been with, had suspected her, had been angry at her. She looks at you with furrowed brows before she switches to Bucky, who was standing there in just his shorts, and then to the figure inside his room. It’s when realization hits her.

“(y/n) please baby I can explain” Bucky pleads, his hands trying in vain to grab hold of your silent and shaking form.

Natasha is quick to shield you, stepping in front to block his path. He’s demanding for her to move, his voice booming with anger that Natasha dares to come between you both.

Finally, finally, your senses comes back to you, the tsunami of shock that was drowning you now turning to a wave of emotions you could deal with later, when you’re out of this situation. Away from his presence.

Your feet moves speedily, walking up the long corridor and past the people you met before, not bothering with the lift as you took the stairs. Pushing the door hard, you practically ran down the steps.

The air slaps your face once you’re outside, making you take in a large gulp of fresh air. It’s then that you realize you’ve been crying, eyes bleary as the tears distorts your view, your cheeks drenched with warm salty tears. Your chest feels tight, constricting you from the simple task of gasping in air. How could you have been so stupid? You yelled to yourself, the image of him with another women burning at the back of your head.

Your insecurities are laughing at you, throwing insults at how naïve you were for thinking he could actually care. You’re cursing at yourself for convincing yourself everything was okay, for ignoring the warning signs for a moment of compassion.

A hand snakes its way to your shoulder, jolting you back to reality. You shake the touch violently off of you.

“Get away from me!” you screamed before turning around, assuming it was Bucky.

Only to find Natasha standing in front of you.

“I’ll get you out of here. Come on” she nods her head to one of the cars parked neatly at the side of the building. You’re all jumbled and emotional to realize that help was right there, offering you a ride out of the place that was suffocating you.

You hear your name being called again, this time by both Natasha and Bucky, who’s at the front door observing you then notices what Natasha is about to do. You’re quick to react now, practically running to Natasha as she roars the engine to life. You’re safely locked inside her sleek black Corvette just as Bucky nears.

Before he could reach his hand to your door, Natasha pushes the gas pedal hard, driving you away from it all.

part 2 - ‘Hate To See Your Heart Break’

tagging: Angst Royalty Network @minervaem @hellomissmabel @heartmade-writingbucky @captnbarnesrogers @rotisserierogers @alphaabucky @buchananbarnestrash @barnes-heaven @buckyywiththegoodhair || Permanent Babes @iamwarrenspeace @lovely-geek || @sarahp879 

It’s all so much for you take in and understand, the weight of it all crushing your brain from making sense of everything. Your temple physically throbs at the whole ordeal, making you run your hands over your head.

Your world has crashed around you, that Bucky has done what he did, and the women you thought would be with him is actually saving you from him.

Natasha is lost for words. She doesn’t know what to say to you when she hears you shuffle in your seat, not knowing what to do to comfort you. She’s just mindlessly driving around, not really sure where you would want to go. She suspects, however, that the apartment you share with Bucky is the last place you’d want to go back to, not wanting to face him as raw, unfiltered emotions swirl inside of you, swallowing you in a tidal wave.

How were you to know? Oh how were you to know?

“It’s not your fault” Natasha murmurs, trying her damn hardest to provide some sort of consolation to you right now.

But you saw the warning signs, hadn’t you? Had seen the tell-tale signs that was screaming at you in the beginning. It’s clear now that the harsh whispers of your insecurities had been right, that it was rationality begging you to listen. You’d foolishly listened to your heart instead, mistaking small moments of tenderness for love, when they were just distractions for your mind, to throw you off your senses.

You’d let this happen to yourself, had let a man blind you from seeing reality in its sharp focus, had allowed him to touch you, feel you, destroy you.

“It is” you quietly tell her.

Love happens all the time To people who aren’t kind And heroes who are blind Expecting perfect script in movie scenes Who wants an awkward silence mystery?

She furrows her eyebrows at your statement, confused for a moment because how the hell would this be your fault? After all, the one who cheated in this relationship wasn’t you; you weren’t the one trailing kisses on a stranger’s body, you weren’t the one who’d continuously lied. From where she is, she can’t understand how you’re blaming yourself for this because you’re right here internally holding back the pieces of your broken heart in your own hands.

“I knew it was coming” you admitted amidst her thinking. “I even thought” you paused for a moment before you croaked “I even thought he was with you”. The harsh words of your accusation stings your throat, leaving a bitter after taste on your tongue.

Of everything she’s done, it seemed as though your allegation hurts her the most. Though she understands where it may have stemmed from, it still hurts her that you’d think of her like that. The past she shared with Bucky was just that, a past.

You move in your seat as a filled-silence blanketed over the both you. Natasha’s demeanor is cool and calm when you carefully turn to look at her, as if your words hadn’t actually pained her, hadn’t actually felt like a major slap in the face. She knows you’re waiting for her to respond like any normal person would when accused to this extent, but Natasha Romanoff isn’t any normal person.

Instead she parks the car on a nearby lake she visits often, a tranquil space that’s tucked between the trees and winding roads.

“I know it’s easy to suspect us together” she begins, her eyes looking at the view ahead of her. “Given our history” she continues, before tearing her attention fully to you. “But (y/n) I want you to know I would never do that to you. To anyone”

You simply nod, heat creeping its way from your back and licking your neck, clearly embarrassed that you’d thought of her in that light. She didn’t say it like she was chiding you though, but rather stating a matter of fact, like one plus one equaled to two, as if you hadn’t actually wounded her.

So you apologize for thinking like that, for conjuring a scenario that would never happen, an alternate reality you’d imagined simply because so many had associated them both together.

“I can’t believe this happened” you cried before swallowing thickly the lump in your throat. “I trusted him, you know? When he’s been doing that behind my back”

Natasha places her hand on your knee.

“It happens to the best of us” she says, her green eyes etched with the same pain you were enduring.

And I, I hate to see your heart break I hate to see your eyes, get darker as they close But I’ve been there before And I, I hate to see your heart break I hate to see your eyes, get darker as they close But I’ve been there before

You let her words sink in, understand the underlying meaning behind them. If you weren’t so caught up in your own emotions, you’d have the sense to laugh lightly at her because how can someone be cruel to this kind women? Who would want to trade The Natasha Romanoff for anything else? She’s this incredible person whose past may be tainted with red that was forced upon her, but is now trying her damn hardest to clean it up. What sane person would want to give up on this beautiful and strong women sitting timidly in front of you?

“Is there anywhere you’d like me to take you?” she asks once you’ve steadied yourself, retrieving her hand to the steering wheel as she revives the engine back to life.

There’s really only one place in this city that you call your own, even if it means it’s shared with a man that’s broken your heart into tiny splinters.

“My apartment, I guess” “Are you sure?”

You exhale slowly. “Where else is there to go?”

When the green trees and empty roads start to change to a scenery you’re familiar with, you’re dreading the decision you’ve made. But honestly where else is there to go? You’d completely made your life revolve around him when you got together, your friends now just your co-workers that you’d only see during office hours.

It doesn’t take long until you’re right in front of your complex, the soaring brick-building looking down at you intimidatingly, making you feel so much smaller than you already are.

“Thank you” you tell her when her car stops right in front of the entrance, before stepping out of the car and into the building.

When the front door opens, Bucky is both relieved and petrified. He stands up immediately from his seat, had been expecting your arrival for hours knowing you’d eventually come home. Your eyes land on Bucky standing in the middle of the living room. Just mere hours ago you’d witness him betray you with his lips attached on another women’s body. The recollection of that fresh memory sends another wave of tears, but you will not shed them, not in front of the man who caused it all, even though your red rimmed eyes say otherwise.

For a moment you both just stare at each other wordlessly; he doesn’t know what to say and you’re too hurt to be mad at him. His eyes flashed with sorrow at hurting you, again, this time. It seems as though that’s all he’s good at; hurting the people he cared about.

Just as he’s about to say something, anything, you will your feet to move to the bedroom, not wanting to look at him for a second longer. You’re about to close the door behind you but Bucky’s followed you there, holding the door with his open palm.

“Please say something to me”

You wrap your arms around you, not wanting his fingertips to touch you in any way possible, distancing yourself from him as you moved away, the heat of his skin so close to you making your skin crawl. Bucky stops when he sees you recoil, standing at the door now.

You take a seat on the bed –the bed you shared with him, where some mornings were greeted with his arms wrapped around your waist, where the nights you both talked about your dreams and aspirations, where you shared the love you thought he had for you too.

It’s these fond memories you shared that made your tears break like a dam. How could he have done this to you? How could he have made you share a part of your soul to him so intimately when he was sharing himself with someone else? You wanted answers with each stream of salty tears down your cheeks, with each thump of your heart.

“Why, Bucky?”

It was weak coming from between your sobs, and it absolutely destroys him to see how much damage he’d done to you.

“Was I not enough?” you asked, looking up at him with all your vulnerability. “Was what we have not real for you?” you pushed, your emotions gripping your heart as you confided in him your insecurities in those two simple questions.

“Of course it was” he began, but you cut him off immediately.

“Then why’d you cheat on me?!” you shrieked, anger winning over your sadness now, taking control over your system as your hands grab hold of the pillows on your bed, throwing it aimlessly in his direction. It lands on his feet, until one hits his broad chest before another is thrown directly to his face. He catches it in the last second. You’re in hysteric and he doesn’t blame you from feeling that emotion.

“Why would you hurt me like this?!” you screamed your heart out, not caring that he’d grimaced at the crack of your voice.

When your hands are empty, you stomp your way to him, balling your fist as you repeatedly hit him, arms flailing around. “You don’t hurt the one you love, Bucky!”

In truth he can’t really feel much, but he knows you’re hurting yourself more at the physical exertion. It’s your words that manages to pierce him deeper than any knife that’s impaled him, burning hotter than any bullet that’s passed through him.

When everything in front of him is distorting, becoming blurry at the edges does he realize that he too was crying. So he catches both your arms, circling his hands gently around your wrist to stop you from hurting yourself.

“I know that” he spoke, swiftly moving his hands over to cup your face when you squirm at his touch. “I know I hurt you” he admitted as he inhales sharply.

He had hurt you

It’s listening to his own trembling voice at acknowledging the fact that shocks him to the very core.

“I love you, and I hurt you” he continues when you stop trying to get away from his hold, the warm tears free falling. “It absolutely kills me that I caused you this much pain, (y/n), it really does”

He’s running his thumb over your cheeks to wipe the tears, and you vaguely see his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows the burning lump in his throat. You’re both devastated, standing in the room where love once was shared, where the both of you found solace, built a safe haven. But now it’s destroyed into nothing but shards of broken hearts.

For all the air that’s in your lungs For all the joy that is to come For all the things that you’re alive to feel Just let the pain remind you hearts can heal

You brought your hand up to his cheek making Bucky lean into your touch, even though he is fully aware that he doesn’t deserve your kindness. God, how did he get so lucky with you? But all too soon you pull away, and he doesn’t fight back to have you in his arms, because he knows he’s lost this fight.

You wipe your face with your bare hands, not bothering with mascara smearing your cheeks. You’re a mess but you don’t care.

“I want you out of here” you state, not wanting to look up at those blue eyes for fear you’d cave into him. “Now” you demand before the surge of adrenaline from your anger completely disappears. He hears your request but he’s still glued to the spot. The world he knows, the one where he has you in it, is gone now. He will no longer have a place he’ll be able to call his own, where a haunting pass isn’t tainted in them, a shelter from everything that doesn’t have HYDRA smeared in it –the Avengers, beyond SHIELD, beyond Steve.

And there’s absolutely nobody to put the blame on but him.

“Just go, Bucky. Please” you plead. It’s only when you hear him grab a duffel bag from the closet and throwing it on the bed that you step out of the room, the atmosphere in the confines of the four walls looming over you like a grey cloud that’s threatening to erupt.

How long it took him to pack everything he has here, to get rid of any traces of him in the home you both shared. Bucky can’t help but to grab a photo frame on the bedside table, where it held a black and white picture of the two of you, eyes wide with excitement and lips etched into broad smiles. He remembers that moment; Steve had captured it using his polaroid when you went to the carnival. Though it was early in the relationship, he’d insisted on introducing you to his best friend, to Steve.

His heart clenches tightly in his chest.

Grabbing more of his belongings, he quickly zips the bag close, patting it once more to ensure the picture was safely inside.

When he comes out, laden with his stuff and guilt, he sees you standing with your back facing him, leaning your arms on the kitchen sink.

He wants to say he’s sorry, that he’d want nothing more than to reverse time and start again. But he refrains himself from saying so. What good would it bring? He’s done enough damage and he knows you don’t want to hear more excuses coming out from his mouth.

You hear his footsteps behind you, but it’s taking everything inside of you not to turn because you know you’ll regret it. You don’t want to have this moment to be the last thing you remember of Bucky Barnes, not wanting to see the last of him in this light. The picture of him standing before the front door with his bag, ready to leave you behind, is not one you want to see.

When you have yet to turn around, Bucky takes it as a sign. So he opens the door slowly, a part of him needing you to just look at him one last time. But still you’re stubborn with your decision.

“Good bye, (y/n)” he mumbles his final goodbye before closing the door securely. His words still echo in your head long after the sun sets, the sky replaced with a velvet blue dusted with stars. You’re immobile, not wanting to believe that the love of your life had just walked out, leaving you nothing but his ghost in the apartment you once shared.

Forever.

tagging: Angst Royalty Network @captnbarnesrogers @buckyywiththegoodhair @hellomissmabel @minervaem @rotisserierogers @alphaabucky @buchananbarnestrash @barnes-heaven @heartmade-writingbucky || Permanent Babes @lovely-geek @iamwarrenspeace @sarahp879 || For This @tienna-laufeyson16 @kgbrenner @antoniamarie1989-blog @thisiskayworld @aweways @@ncoleys  @justreadingfics @petah-parkah-and-potahtas @901seconds

“That’s the first thing that comes out of your mouth?” a voice next to you laughed –an unrecognizable voice.

If you weren’t feeling so horrible you’d have the decency to say ‘screw you’ to this unknown person, but your body is adamant to let you suffer. You don’t get the chance to ask who this person is when you feel the ache around your arms and legs, the side of your hip particularly excruciating that you groan.

Finally, a team of nurses and doctors come flooding to your room, giving you that blissful shot of morphine to your system, sedating your muscles to relax. You don’t know how much time passed as you slept, but when you stirred the light isn’t from the fluorescent bulb but rather the sun.

The light comes in through the breaks of the curtain, landing to the floor of your room and giving you a calming feel.

“Hey”

You turn your head away from the window to see Sam smiling at you.

“Hi” you greet him back with a rasp roughly before coughing, grimacing at the sandstorm shoved down your throat. Sam quickly pours a glass of water for you, helping you sit up before you drank gratefully.

“What the hell happened?” you asked, looking down at your own body. Your hands make its way to your eyes, rubbing the drowsiness away. It’s then that you notice the bandage that’s tightened around your head. Panic slowly settles in as you try to remember what happened. You’re confused as you try to recall any memory of you in combat, but your thoughts are muddled and hazy.

“Take it easy, (y/n)” Sam tells you, hands holding your shoulder and forearm. “Could you tell me the last thing you remember?” he asked gently.

You tried to think, hard. What was the last thing you remember? What did you do before this? Where were you? Who was with you?

It’s taking a lot for you to remember anything, and Sam notices the symptom of someone struggling. “Okay, (y/n), could you tell me the date for today?” he asked, guiding you.

That’s easy so you answer him without any hesitation. You’re certain of this because one thing you remember clearly was the mission planned to attack a HYDRA base in Sokovia. You feel accomplished for a moment, relishing in the fact that you at least remembered something. But Sam’s been silent a little too long to let you know that it wasn’t something to be celebrated.

When you meet his gaze, you know for certain that something was wrong.

It’s a beautiful day; the sun is gracing its presence down on you as you walk with Natasha. Or rather, Natasha is the one walking and is the one leading, pushing you in a slow pace around the compound’s many outdoor areas. You lay your hands on the wheelchair’s handle as you looked around you.

After countless days of staying in the bed of the infirmary, you could feel your sanity slipping away; immobile on that damn bed, looking at the white walls that confined you, listening to your heart-rate monitor as nurses and doctors came in to check up on you once in a while. It left you to ruminate about the whole situation you’ve found yourself in.

You see Dr. Cho’s lips moving, explaining to you the effects of your state but you can’t register anything she’s saying. You’re looking at her with a distant stare, not believing that this was real. Then your eyes flicker to Sam and Bruce, eyebrows slowly furrowing. What if this was all a lie? A sick, twisted game played by the enemy? What if this is just a setup? You found yourself thinking to yourself.

“(y/n)” Helen’s hand suddenly breaks you from your thoughts. Her touch alarms you and before you know it you’re squirming for her to get her hands off of you. “Get away from me” you roared.

It doesn’t really shock Helen the way you’re behaving, but it does pain her to see you so distrustful. She’s back to square one now –the progress of friendship between you and her permanently lost. So she nods her head curtly, not daring to look up at your angered state, before leaving.

Sam and Bruce do all they can to help you cope, to help you understand but it’s all too much for you to take in. Your head is pounding, a throbbing headache generated from an overload of information. You can’t decipher which ones are the truth or lies, but your gut is telling, begging you to simply trust one person in the team.

“Where’s Nat?”

Which was how you ended up here. You only trust her enough to accompany you around, and when you asked if she could take you out with the excuse of needing fresh air and warm sunlight, Natasha doesn’t say no.

“You okay?” she asked.

You could only snort as a response, before answering with “I wake up to see myself beaten and concussed to the point where I don’t remember two whole years of my life. I’m peachy, Nat”

You know you shouldn’t be like this, shouldn’t snap at her when she was just being a friend. But the situation that’s befallen you is utterly frustrating. Two whole years of your life –24 months, 104 weeks, 730 days, forgotten.

You sighed, stopping. “I’m sorry” you apologize, looking up to meet her green eyes. “I just feel like this isn’t real. Like I’m being tricked” you confess. You felt cheated and, for some odd reason, you feel like it’s all your fault that you were here.

“Can you feel this?” she asked softly, her hand resting on your shoulder. It’s a simple touch, but it says a lot. You nod.

“This is real, (y/n). And I know it’s tough to wrap your head around it, but we’re here for you. We’re all here for you” she said, her tone gentle yet firm. “You just need to trust us, and I know it’s a big step, but we can’t help you if you don’t” she continues.

Neither of you say anything, letting the nature that surrounds you be the only noise accompanying you both.

Inside the building stood Bucky, the giant glassed window giving him the perfect view of you and Natasha. The bandage that was wrapped around your head is now gone, and he can see there’s color on your skin again. But your eyes. My god, your eyes.

Even in the distance, he can see how empty they looked. Your shoulders are slumped as Natasha continued to talk, defeated. He can see you’re half-listening, half-thinking, at Natasha’s words. He can’t take his eyes away from the scene in-front of him. The last time he was with you was the night you woke up, cursing in pain and obvious discomfort.

Standing here now, he wondered what’s going to happen next? How long are you going to be distrustful? How long before you trust them?

You twitched suddenly, feeling like you’re being watched.

“What’s wrong?” Natasha asked worriedly, moving to the front and kneeling in-front of you. “I just feel like I’m being watched” you answer her truthfully, before nervously looking around. You just see bushes upon bushes of lush green set in-front of the modern buildings and its vast glassed walls. Gradually you scan the upper floor, eyes landing on an unknown figure.

Bucky’s eyes meet yours. For a moment he doesn’t know what to do, something inside him whispering how much you’ll fear him.

“Who is that?” You ask Natasha, who let out a breath of relief at your genuine curiosity, glad to see you weren’t anxious.

“That’s Barnes, James Buchanan Barnes. Steve’s friend” she clarifies.

You turn your head to look at her, stunned. “Steve found him?”

She nods, pulling you to a nearby bench before she begins explaining. It’s long, detailed and something you needed to hear. You listen to her talk, engrossed in the stories she’s recounting. It’s oddly calming you, easing your body to relax, allowing your heart to start believing. When Natasha finishes her story, you lean back.

“All of that in the span of 2 years?”

If you were normal, you’d have thought it ridiculous.

But you aren’t –the world that you’re living in isn’t normal anymore. You live with literal Gods coming and going, enhanced individuals are created, inhumane experiments are being performed. You live in a world where the legendary stories of the mystical world make up parts of this reality. You remember then your secret, the one ability you were taught and told to keep confidential.

Natasha sees you reflecting all she’s said, realization dawning on you. She patiently waits for your reaction, only to be given a gentle and slow nod.

“I’d like to go back to my room now”

Weeks pass, and in that time you’re allowed to go back to your room.

Well, not really your room. But it was better than the hospital bed. You missed lying on your king sized bed, where there was no constant and vigilant people watching over you (try as they may to be stealth about it), where you weren’t strapped by delicate lines, your own privacy.

Thankfully you were healing speedily, the progress promising. After that afternoon with Natasha, you allowed yourself to have a sense of trust towards your team mates, had tried your best to ignore the nagging feeling of skepticism. You apologized to Helen, and Sam and Bruce, and anyone you’d thoughtlessly took your anger at (so many of the staff members).

Sprawled on your own bed, a notebook opened as your hands write down your thoughts, an activity suggested by your therapist to cope.

I only hope this next step will be the step that brings my memories back you jot down, thinking about your request to meet everyone (again) a few days ago. A knock on the door prompts you to stop, grabbing the crutch on your floor to help you properly stand before making your way towards the door.

With a simple twist, you unlocked it, pulling to reveal Steve standing there.

He looks down at you with a smile when you greet him brightly. “Ready?” he asked as you step out, closing the door behind you tightly.

“Yeah” you answer him nervously, rubbing your hands together in an attempt to ease your nerves. “Kinda feels weird, y’know? since they’ve met me before, but I haven’t. But then technically I have” you began to spit the words out, making Steve chuckle.

“It’s gonna be alright. They’re eager to see you”

Everyone’s gathered in the common room, sitting and chatting with one another in an attempt to lighten the mood. It all feels odd to Bucky because he was once at the receiving end of this.

For the first time in a while, he feels genuinely excited, because you were finally ready to meet everyone. He can’t help but let his smile be present as he listens to everyone converse with one another. He’d miss you, but the situation doesn’t permit him to simply come over to you anymore. He’d miss you, and it struck something inside of him knowing that you didn’t know a thing about him when he knew everything about you.

Was this how Steve felt when he met him back in D.C? Was this how you felt right before Steve brought him back to the compound?

He’s brought out of his little reverie when someone nudges his knees.

It’s Wanda.

Her big blue eyes are looking at him with an almost inscrutable expression, before giving him a slight nod towards the direction behind him.

“There she is” Sam is the first one to move and walk over to you, clearly delighted to see you again. Soon everyone’s made to move, except for three of the members.

Wanda, Bucky and Vision all stand behind, looking at the others rejoice.

“Here, meet Wanda” Clint brings you to a young woman with long brown hair cascading her shoulders. She’s looking at you with a look of curiosity and something you can’t quiet put your finger on. Still, you greet her with a smile.

“Hai” you say, shaking her hand in yours. “I’m sorry if this is awkward” you tell her earnestly, eliciting a smirk on her lips.

“It’s alright” she waves it off, extending her hand over to Vision before introducing her.

“Ms. (y/l/n)” “Oh, please just call me (y/n)”

Steve moves over to Bucky, who’s at the side watching the little exchange. “I know this is going to be awkward” he begins, noticing Bucky’s gaze over you. “But give it time. I’m sure it’ll be like before again” he continues, patting Bucky’s shoulder in an attempt to assure him.

But will it ever go back to the way it was?

The answer was simple.

No.

Because then you’re right in front of him, hands extended forward like the first time you met him.

“I’m (y/n). It’s nice to meet you, James”.

It physically hurts when his skin touched yours. He tries so hard to ignore the ache in his heart when the formal name comes out of your lips. It was clear to Bucky then that what the both of you had will no longer happen. But he manages to smile, seeing how everyone bated their breathe during this intimate introduction.

“Bucky. My name’s Bucky”

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