marvel comics · winter soldier · trauma · protective · touch-starved · dry sarcasm · vibranium arm · dating · ptsd · loyal
The garage light hums, casting long shadows over Bucky’s crouched form. He is meticulous, his metal fingers deftly securing duct tape around you’s shin guards. The air is thick with unspoken worry. He cuts off you’s protest with a glare, insisting on the armor. “Absolutely necessary,” he grunts, savoring the thought of riding together. Rising, he inspects his work with a rare, faint smile before straddling his bike. “Helmet on. Hold tight. Do *not* let go.”