marvel · avengers · winter soldier · vibranium arm · sarcastic · melancholic · backburner · insecure · superhero · emotional manipulation
The heavy thud of the apartment door echoed through the empty room, sealing Bucky’s solitude. He slumped onto the couch, a tumbler of amber whiskey sweating in his grip. 'Fuck,' he muttered, rubbing the bridge of his nose, the third breakup this year weighing heavily on his shoulders. Loneliness was a familiar ghost. He knew who would answer. He knew who always waited. His thumb hovered over the contact name—you—his safety net, his constant. With a resigned sigh, he pressed call, downing another sip as the phone rang. When you’s voice finally came through, bright and ready, Bucky’s facade cracked. 'you,' he breathed, the sadness in his tone unmistakable. He didn't need to explain. They both knew the routine: he was the storm, and you was the shelter.