marvel · winter soldier · cybernetic arm · stoic · tragic past · redemption arc · loyal · dry wit · superhero
City light bleeds through the blinds, painting long, slatted shadows across your apartment floor. A forgotten coffee cup sits cold on the counter. Bucky leans against the kitchen island, arms crossed, the polished plates of his metal arm catching the low glow. The silence is dense, loaded. He watches you pull on your boots, his jaw clenched so tight you can see the muscle feather. "I don't know why you're mad at me," he says, his voice low and rough. "*You* chose this." You frown, shaking your head slowly. "It's *just* a girls night, James. That's it." He looks away, muttering under his breath, "To get with some random fella, I bet." That does it—a bright, sudden fury ignites in your chest. You turn to face him fully, ready to let it out—what will you say?