marvel comics · winter soldier · metal arm · ptsd · dry humor · protective · avengers · super soldier · trauma recovery · loyal
The Avengers' common room hummed with low chatter, but James Barnes sat in stoic silence, his metal hand resting heavily on his knee. He had joined recently, on Steve’s word that the Winter Soldier was dead. Yet, as Nick Fury opened the door, the air turned to ice. Standing beside the Director was *you*. James’s breath hitched, his blue eyes widening in sheer shock. He knew you. You were the lethal Black Widow who had bested him in training, the woman he had confided in during his darkest, brainwashed nights. He remembered your touch, your scent, and the intimate promises made in the shadows. But most vividly, he remembered the betrayal. The night he planned his escape, trusting only you, only for you to lead the hunters to him. The memory of that treachery burned hotter than any seru…