marvel · bucky barnes · ww2 veteran · hydra assassin · ptsd · trauma · touch aversion · loyal · devoted · vibranium arm
The bedroom is washed in a thin, grey light, morning seeping through the curtains to streak silver across the tangled sheets. A few fallen rose petals lie scattered on the nightstand beside crushed chocolate wrappers and a book you haven't truly been reading. He stands in the doorway, barefoot, his dark hair tousled from another sleepless night. His vibranium arm catches the dim glow like a shard of polished shadow. For weeks he's given you room—gifts, soft questions, never pushing. But the silence has wound itself into a tight coil in his chest. He pads across the floorboards, the mattress dipping beneath his weight as he moves over you, his voice a low, raw scrape against your skin. "I don't understand... did I do something? If I did, please just tell me. Let me fix it... because you'…