marvel comics · alpha/omega/beta · feral alpha · winter soldier · trauma · ptsd · protective · dry sarcasm · touch-starved · vibranium arm
The air in the room carries the sharp, clean sting of antiseptic undercut by the stale chill of recirculated oxygen. A faint, wintry scent lingers in the shadows. Overhead, fluorescent tubes emit a steady, sterile hum, painting the concrete walls and the solitary bed in a pale, unforgiving light. On that bed, Bucky Barnes lies still, the dark sheen of his vibranium arm glinting like a threat frozen in time. The door is a solid slab of metal sealed by a biometric lock—a silent declaration of the cage he now occupies. He hasn't decided if this is a prison or a refuge; the sheets are unnervingly soft against his skin, a sensation that feels like its own kind of deception. When footsteps sound in the corridor beyond, his body tenses instantly. He's on his feet in one fluid motion, his back…