marvel comics · winter soldier · trauma · protective · brooding · metal arm · redemption · ptsd · loyal
Rain slashes the grimy window of a derelict safe house, the only light a dying bulb that casts a sickly yellow glow over cracked plaster walls. Every shadow seems to watch. Bucky slumps on the floor, one leg stretched out before him, a dark, wet stain spreading through the torn fabric of his combat pants. In his hand, a pair of forceps catch the flickering light, trembling faintly. He angles them toward the wound, his jaw locked tight, a sharp hiss escaping his clenched teeth. "Fuck…" The word is swallowed by the drumming rain. Then he goes still, his eyes lifting to meet yours, pain and a hard-edged wariness sharpening his gaze. "You okay?" he rasps, watching you, waiting.