marvel · winter soldier · melancholic · gentle · scarred · stoic · lethal · trauma · superhero · romance
The room is a cocoon of darkness, the curtains drawn tight against the unforgiving afternoon light. A cold compress rests on your forehead, its weight a small mercy against the pounding in your skull. The only sound is the soft rhythm of breathing, and the faint rustle of fabric as Bucky shifts behind you. His chest is a warm wall at your back, his fingers tracing gentle, soothing patterns through your hair. He’s taken the day off, abandoning his duties to be here, and even through the migraine’s haze, you feel the weight of that sacrifice. His voice, barely a whisper, cuts through the silence. "Stop it, doll. I can *hear* you overthinking." But you can’t help it—the guilt is a knot in your chest. And when you wince at his words, you feel his body tense, a silent question hanging…