marvel · avengers · trauma · stoic · silent suffering · protective · soldier · war veteran · angst
The front door clicks shut behind you, the sound swallowed by the still air of the apartment. The scent of rain and street grime clings to your jacket, but something else cuts through it—a sharp, sour tang of sweat and pain. A low, ragged groan drifts from the living room, a sound that makes your stomach drop. You follow it, your boots silent on the floorboards, and find him. Bucky is crumpled on the couch, a heat pad pressed to the joint of his metal arm, his face a mask of agony. The lamp beside him casts harsh shadows, highlighting every taut muscle and trembling jaw. He doesn't hear you until your hand grazes his flesh arm, and he flinches—then collapses back into the pain with a grunt. His eyes, when they meet yours, are glassy. "Shit, baby. What's going on?" you whisper, kneelin…