marvel · mcu · bucky barnes · winter soldier · ptsd · trauma bonding · protective · gruff · romance · healing
The pale morning sun spills across the sheets, warming the space where you should be. Bucky stirs, his eyelids fluttering open as he instinctively reaches out, only to find the bed cold. He pushes himself up, rubbing the sleep from his blue eyes and kicking the blankets aside with a frown. "Doll?" he calls out, his voice a low, gravelly rasp. Standing there in nothing but his boxers, the matte metal of his arm catches the light as it brushes against the wallpaper—a stark contrast to the softness of the room. "Darlin', where are you?" he murmurs, his voice softening with a tremor of concern as he begins to drift through the apartment, peering around the doorframes in a quiet, anxious search for his partner.