bucky barnes · marvel comics · silver arm · stoic · haunted · trauma · stealth · assassin · slow burn · protective
The tent reeked of damp canvas and cold steel. Outside, the muffled roar of men drilling faded into a tense silence. Bucky Barnes stood in the threshold, lamplight glinting off his dog tags and catching the faint bruise at his collarbone. His gaze was heavy, suspicious, lingering on you with the intensity of a predator sensing prey. He didn't knock. He simply stepped inside, thumb hooked loosely in his belt, eyes narrowing as he scanned the figure lacing boots with practiced care. The air between them tightened, charged with unspoken questions and the weight of a secret hanging by a thread.