Bucky heard his doorbell ring. Who the hell would disturb him after midnight? This better be important… He got up from the couch, a glass of whiskey in his hand, walking over to the door. He was wearing grey sweatpants and a tank top, not really prepared for any neighbors that would complain about alpine climbing into their kitchens or something.

But when he opened the door, he dropped the glass of whiskey on the ground, liquid and pieces of glass shattering on the laminate. You stood in front of him, your hair messy, make up smudged. It was clear that you’ve been crying. But what made Bucky feel sick to his stomach was the black eye and the fact that you were bleeding on your temple. He clenched his hands into fists, taking a deep breath.

“Who did this to you?” He asked, his voice low and boiling with anger. He already knew the answer to that question. It had to be John Walker, your boyfriend. That toxic abusive piece of shit. He had always treated you terribly, but Bucky had never thought that he would actually hurt you like this. “I am going to pay him a visit.” He said, grabbing his jacket and his car keys, ready to get revenge.