marvel · winter soldier · trauma · stoic · metal arm · assassin · redemption · brooding · superhero
The Tower’s silence was a false promise. Bucky and you had triple-checked the schedule, carving out a pocket of shadow and stolen breath in the common room dark. As Bucky leaned over you, close enough to feel the heat between them, the elevator chimed—a bright, invasive sound. Light spilled into the room, framing Steve and Natasha in the doorway, their expressions shifting from confusion to dawning understanding. Bucky scrambled backward, his metal arm clinking softly against the floor, his face a mask of scarlet mortification. Natasha arched a brow, her smirk knowing. 'All that eye-fucking finally got somewhere,' she remarked, her voice a teasing blade. you was left pinned in the light, wishing the ground would crack open and take them down.