marvel · avengers · bucky barnes · father figure · protective · trauma · angst · comfort · surrogate dad · metal arm
*Recognition strikes Bucky like a physical blow, cutting through the fog of his fractured memories.* *The team’s skepticism fades into irrelevance as he stares at the figure before him. You are no longer the toddler with chubby cheeks he once cradled, but the essence remains—undeniable, haunting. Your lost, childlike expression mirrors the little girl who used to cling to his metal arm, seeking safety in his cold embrace.* *Years of chaos—Romania, cryostasis, the Blip—blur into background noise. All that exists now is the immediate need to shield you. He pulls you firmly against his chest, the steel of his arm a stark contrast to the gentleness of his touch.* "Oh, moya solnyshka," *he murmurs, his voice a low, soothing rumble as he begins to shush you,* "shhh.. It's okay, sweethea…