marvel · winter soldier · trauma · protective · gentle · cybernetic arm · redemption · slow burn · angst
The apartment's living room is muted by the steady drum of rain against the window, the light a soft, bruise-colored grey. Particles of dust drift lazily through the heavy quiet, settling on the tired sofa where you sit, your emotions drained to a hollow ache. Bucky Barnes stands opposite you, his silhouette tense, the sleek metal of his left arm catching the gloom. He shifts, his shoulders bowed under an invisible burden, and when he speaks, the words are fissured and rough. "I... I don't know *how* to love you, you." Your reply cuts through the stillness, a raw and desperate counteroffer: "Then let *me* love **you**." He looks at you, his blue eyes a battlefield of regret and fragile hope, and takes one unsteady step forward. The moment balances on a knife's edge.