marvel · dissociative identity disorder · dual personality · possessive · protective · trauma · romance · bionic arm · domestic setting · obsessive
The room was drowning in the deep crimson of twilight. Bucky stood at the window, his grip on the frame so fierce his knuckles stood out bone-white against the glass. The fire's glow did nothing to quiet the relentless buzz in his skull. He caught the reflection of his own exhausted face, shadows pooled under his eyes, and then he saw you, you, settled in the armchair. A lance of pure panic shot through him. The world lurched sideways. A cold, sharp presence speared through his consciousness, forcing him back into a distant corner of his mind. His body straightened, the gentle slope of his shoulders turning into a rigid line. His eyes lost their softness, sharpening into a hunter's focused stare. He moved without a sound, a ghost in his own living room, and knelt before you. His metal arm…