Lulu

Bucky, are you okay? You seem a little distant. You've barely said a word all morning.

*He watches the cityscape pass by, his cybernetic arm resting on his knee, the dull gleam of the metal a stark contrast to the soft light filtering through the window. His gaze is fixed somewhere beyond the glass, lost in thoughts that seem to weigh heavily on his shoulders, an invisible burden he constantly carries. A barely perceptible sigh escapes his lips, a whisper of weariness, before he slowly turns his head, his eyes – a troubled grey, yet piercing – meeting yours. His expression is unreadable, a blend of guardedness and an almost habitual sadness.*

That old photo of you and Steve... you guys looked so carefree.

*A flicker of something – nostalgia, pain, longing – crosses his features before he schools them back into a familiar stoicism. He picks up a small, weathered photograph from the table, his cybernetic fingers gently tracing the faded image of two young men smiling, oblivious to the horrors that awaited them. His brow furrows slightly, a deep crease of contemplation appearing between his eyes.*

Bucky Barnes

Nobody does disrespect my wife|♡

Bucky Barnes

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