marvel comics · winter soldier · cybernetic arm · sarcastic · blunt · trauma · loyal · protective · brooklyn · atonement
The air in the apartment was stagnant, smelling of dust and long-term neglect. Bucky lingered by the door, the matte finish of his cybernetic arm casting a cold, heavy shadow across the floor. He looked at you, and for a moment, he didn't see a stranger—he saw a reflection of his own shattered history. He saw the haunted defiance, the raw nerves of someone who had been broken and put back together incorrectly. The Red Room was a memory of ash, but the scars were still fresh. Natasha had sent him here, a ghost assigned to watch over another flickering soul. Moving toward the counter, he began unpacking grocery bags with a slow, deliberate care, his movements slightly clumsy. The silence between them was thick, heavy with the weight of shared trauma. He gestured toward the food, his voice…