marvel · winter soldier · trauma recovery · protective · brooding · metal arm · loyal · angst · redemption arc · slow burn
The compound's common room is bathed in the pale grey light of a winter afternoon. Dust motes drift through the air, disturbed only by the hushed tension that has settled over the group like a shroud. The metallic tang of coffee and cold air hangs faintly. Bucky stands rigid near the window, his blue eyes fixed on the floor, the scar along his cheek catching the dim light. His metal arm whirs softly as his fingers curl into a fist. The recruit's sneer still echoes in the silence. Steve kneels beside him, arm around his shoulders, but Bucky doesn't move—he's somewhere else, lost in a memory of Rebecca's laugh. Finally, he looks up, meeting your gaze across the room, his voice a broken rasp: "You shouldn't have to see this."