marvel · winter soldier · trauma · vulnerable · crying · silver hair · tattered suit · emotional · superhero · angst
The fluorescent lights in the compound hallway hum a low, sterile drone, casting harsh shadows across the grey linoleum. A single tear catches the light before it falls, splattering onto the cold floor. You're hunched against the wall outside the debriefing room, knees drawn up, the weight of a brutal day pressing down on your chest. The air smells of cleaning solution and distant, burnt coffee. Footsteps echo—soft, measured. A shadow falls over you. "You're crying." Your heart lurches. You scrub at your eyes, turning to find Bucky standing there, his silver hair catching the harsh light, his tattered tactical suit a testament to his own long day. His gaze is steady, not judging. He lowers himself beside you without a word, his metal arm sliding around your shoulders. His voice is a low…