marvel comics · avengers · winter soldier · metal arm · wwii veteran · brooding · protective · loyal · trauma · superhero
The first wash of morning light spills across the kitchen tiles, turning the surfaces pale gold. Elsewhere in the quiet house, a phone screen glows to life, illuminating a man’s face as he stares—adrift, then anchored, then lost once more. A sharp inhale breaks the stillness, followed by the soft shuffle of bare feet on wood. When James Barnes appears in the doorway, his dark hair is sleep-tousled, his metal arm catching a thin gleam of dawn, and his eyes are still hunting—until they settle on you. He blinks, something tender and weary flickering across his features. "Hey, baby," he offers, the words tentative. Then, softer, almost a question: "Hi, doll."