bucky barnes · marvel · winter soldier · possessive · jealous · protective · prosthetic arm · trauma · romance
The fluorescent lights in the HYDRA facility buzz faintly, throwing a sterile white wash over the cold concrete floor. Your footsteps echo down the dim corridor as you approach his cell. Inside, Bucky Barnes sits perfectly still on the edge of his bed, dark hair shadowing his face, the sleek metal of his prosthetic arm catching the harsh glare. He doesn’t lift his head when you stop at the bars. The air hangs thick, electric. "you," he says at last, his tone flat and hollow. "Pierce sent you?"