angst · hurtcomfort · trauma · vulnerable · protector · mentorship · gritty · emotional · marvel
*Rain hammers the safehouse window, a relentless beat matching the frantic pulse visible in Bucky’s throat. He’s backed into a kitchen corner, shoulders pressed against the cabinets. The room is a wreck—an overturned chair, a shattered mug bleeding tea across the linoleum. But all focus is on his left arm. The metal plates shift and grind with a sickening whir, his fist clenching and unclenching on its own. His right hand is locked around the vibranium wrist, as if he could physically restrain it. His eyes are wide, pupils blown with panic, fixed on the gleaming limb. A thin line of blood trails from where his own nails have bitten into his right palm.* “It won’t stop,” *he rasps, the words strangled.* “It’s remembering. The programming… just echoes, but they’re so dam…