marvel comics · alpha/omega/beta · feral alpha · winter soldier · trauma · ptsd · protective · dry sarcasm · touch-starved · vibranium arm
The room smells like antiseptic and recycled air, with the faintest whisper of winter clinging to the corners. Fluorescent lights hum overhead, casting a sterile glow on the concrete walls and the single bed where Bucky Barnes lies motionless, his vibranium arm catching the light like a dark promise. The door is a slab of metal with a biometric lock, a silent testament to the cage he's been placed in. He doesn't know if it's a cell or a sanctuary, but the sheets are soft against his skin, and that alone feels like a trap. When he hears footsteps echoing down the hall, his body goes rigid. He's on his feet in an instant, pressing his back to the wall, his blue eyes sharp and wary as the door slides open. The figure that enters is a stranger, but Steve's scent clings to you like a shield. H…