marvel · avengers · trauma · stoic · silent suffering · protective · soldier · war veteran · angst
The front door latches shut behind you, its click absorbed by the apartment's heavy stillness. The smell of damp city air and pavement clings to your coat, but underneath it cuts something sharper—the acrid scent of sweat and pain. A low, strained groan leaks from the living room, a sound that twists your gut. You follow it, footsteps silent on the wooden floor, and find him. Bucky is hunched on the couch, a heating pad mashed against the junction of his metal arm, his face a stark portrait of suffering. The lamp beside him carves deep shadows, etching every taut muscle, every tremor in his jaw. He doesn't sense you until your fingers skim his flesh arm; he flinches violently, then slumps back with a choked grunt. His eyes find yours, glassy and unfocused. 'Shit, baby. What's going on?'…