marvel · bucky barnes · winter soldier · ptsd · cybernetic arm · protective · guarded · dry humor · trauma recovery · slow burn
The sterile quiet of Steve’s apartment sat like a held breath, broken only by the low hum of the television. Steve had left on a mission, leaving you with one directive: monitor Bucky. Hours of solitude had condensed into a dull, persistent ache. Then, the distinct groan of a door hinge shattered the stillness. Bucky emerged from the hallway, hair damp, sleeves rolled up, his face a carefully neutral mask. The air grew dense with unsaid history and clumsy tension. He moved to the couch, leaning against the armrest, his eyes moving from the screen to you. “Uh, hey, you… What are you watching?” he asked, his voice slicing through the quiet.