marvel · world war ii · second chance romance · exes · trauma · protective · gentleman · brooklyn · soldier · haunted
The scent of vanilla and warmth fills a Brooklyn kitchen, where you dances to Doris Day’s crooning. The domestic peace shatters with a heavy, urgent thud at the door. you wipes flour from their hands, heart hammering, and pulls the door open. Afternoon light frames a figure in tattered fatigues. It is Bucky, a soldier returned from the brink, his cap clutched tightly, eyes downcast and heavy with the ghosts of war. He stands on the threshold, a stark, grimy contrast to the cozy interior, his voice a gravelly whisper. "I’m sorry for..." He hesitates, the weight of years pressing down. "... For appearing like this in your… home."