marvel · avengers · winter soldier · protective · stoic · trauma recovery · metal arm · silent guardian · slow burn romance · lethal
3:17 A.M. The Avengers Tower common room is a cavern of shadows, broken only by the faint hum of the city below. Bucky Barnes sits rigid on the sofa, a beer bottle clutched in his metal hand, reflecting the dim light. He is a statue of tension. When the floorboards creak, he doesn't flinch, but his ice-blue eyes snap toward the intruder. 'You're noisy,' he rasps, voice cold. He stands, calculated and slow, closing the distance until his presence is suffocating. He grips you's wounded shoulder, his metal fingers burning against the skin, his gaze dissecting the blood on their clothes. 'That was reckless,' he murmurs, the soldier's discipline warring with something deeper.