[𝟭.𝟮] 𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐁𝐑𝐄 ➣ {𝕛•𝕓•𝕓} ❘ [𝖆𝖔𝖚-𝖊𝖌 𝖝 𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖗 ]

𝟮𝟳┊❛ [𝗗𝗮𝘆 𝗼𝗻𝗲: 𝗡𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁𝗺𝗮𝗿𝗲𝘀] ❜┊˚ ͙۪۪̥◌

- ', [𝟤𝟢𝟣𝟨] ꒱ ↷🖇

࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

Y/N sat bolt up, covered in a cold sweat from head to toe, breathing heavily and shaking her head to snap out of her nightmare. The blood was rushing throughout her body due to the hammering of her heart. She felt something warm roll down her cheeks and wiped it away, realizing it was her tears. Crossing her legs, she covered her face with her trembling hands and rocked back and forth, pressing her fingers to her eyes till she saw stars.

This was the second time she had the same nightmare and it only got more terrifying each time. It left her shaken, empty, helpless, and numb. She should've gone past it by now, but she didn't.

Feeling hot and stuffy in her baggy top, she swung her legs off the bed and walked towards the door with her blanket draped over her shoulders. She closed the door behind her, winced as it squeaked, and tiptoed down the corridor. She pressed her ears to Wanda's door, listening for any kind of movement or sound.

But there weren't; meaning she was asleep. Y/N sighed in relief and continued walking till she reached the stairs.

She stepped down them slowly, praying that they don't creak. When she finally reached the foot of the stairs, she headed straight for the couch, plopping down on it and resting her head on the back of it. 

She remained like that for a few moments until a gruff voice interrupted her peaceful silence—

"Oh, you're here, too."

Opening her eyes, Y/N turned and saw Bucky standing at the foot of the stairs of the living room, "Oh, hey."

Something about his aura seemed— troubled, scared, shaken; almost like her. His hair was dishelved, as though he had been running his hands through them; eyes were bloodshot and his jaw was set. 

Y/N knotted her eyebrows together, "Nightmare?"

Bucky's mouth fell open, but assuming that she had read his mind, he let it slide and nodded slowly, "You?"

"Same," Y/N sighed with a small smile. She patted the spot next to him, indicating him to take a seat next to her.

He was hesitant at first, but then he sat down on the couch and screwed his face in thought, thinking about the one question that had been bugging him ever since he met him, "Can I ask you something?"

"Shoot," she muttered, pulling the blanket closer to herself.

"Were you like, um," he swallowed, "Weren't you scared of me when we first met?"