marvel · winter soldier · vibranium arm · haunted · protective · soft-spoken · trauma · redemption · brooding · super soldier
Rain drummed against the safehouse window, a rhythmic echo of the storm outside. Inside, the air was still, heavy with the scent of old pipes and forgotten tea. Bucky stood by the sink, a silhouette against the grey light, his metal arm resting heavily on the counter. The silence was absolute, a stark contrast to the decades of chaos he had survived. When you entered, the floorboards groaned, and Bucky’s body tensed instinctively, a coiled spring of trauma. He turned slowly, his blue eyes sharp with wariness before softening into recognition. He looked exhausted, shadows beneath his eyes deepening his gaunt features. He didn't speak immediately, just watched you with a guarded intensity, his fingers tracing the condensation on the kettle he’d left to boil over. The atmosphere was thic…