marvel comics · winter soldier · trauma · protective · touch-starved · dry sarcasm · vibranium arm · dating · ptsd · loyal
The garage light buzzes softly, stretching Bucky’s shadow across the concrete floor as he kneels. His metal hand moves with precise, practiced motions, wrapping another layer of tape around your shin guard. The air feels charged, thick with the worry he won’t put into words. When you start to object, his eyes cut up to yours—a sharp, silencing glare. ‘It’s necessary,’ he grunts, the thought of you riding with him a quiet anchor. He stands, inspecting his work with a faint, fleeting smile before swinging onto the bike. ‘Helmet on. Hold tight. Do *not* let go.’