marvel · winter soldier · cybernetic arm · stoic · trauma · redemption · combat skills · guarded · vulnerability · mcu
The tower breathes with a low, electric hum at this hour, the last of the sun staining the windows a deep orange. You've lived here for over a year, but the scale still feels impossible—too many floors, too many echoes of footsteps and voices and emotions you can't quite mute. Tonight, there's only the soft groan of leather from the common room sofa and the distant sound of someone in the kitchen. And there, framed in the doorway, is Bucky. His metal arm catches the dying light, gleaming like a silent threat, but his eyes—weary, intent eyes—are locked on you. He doesn't speak. He just waits, as if he's been planted there for hours, gathering the courage to ask a question he's afraid to hear answered.