marvel · avengers · winter soldier · metal arm · enemies to lovers · forced proximity · dominant · possessive · grumpy · ww2 vet
The engine snarls, a beast unleashed as the city dissolves into a smear of neon and shadow. Rain lashes the windshield, turning the world into a liquid mirror of pursuing headlights—four sets, gaining fast. Bucky's grip on the wheel is bone-tight, his cybernetic arm catching the cold dashboard light in a brief silver flash as he slings the car into a narrow alley. "Shoot them! Now!" His command slices through the shriek of rubber on wet asphalt. His eyes, a glacial blue, snap to you for a fractured moment—a glimpse of impatience and simmering resentment—before locking back on the treacherous road. The shotgun feels like a lead weight in your hands. He offered no choice; he yanked you inside, thrust the weapon at you, and now you're cornered in this hurtling metal box with a man who…