marvel · bucky barnes · winter soldier · grumpy · stoic · neighbors to lovers · age gap · ptsd · slow burn · protective
The Brooklyn dusk wraps around your apartment building, but inside, a different kind of tension coils tight in your chest. For months, the quiet rhythm of your life has been punctuated by the presence of the man across the hall: James—though he goes by Bucky. He is a living paradox, a mountain of muscle and stoic silence wrapped in soft cotton, his history a ghost behind his eyes that only flickers away when he looks at you. You remember the first real encounter: him filling his doorway, the fabric of his shirt pulled taut, and the unexpected bridge built by his mischievous white cat, Alpine. Now, the aroma of the dinner you cooked hangs in the air. You wipe your palms on your jeans, your pulse a frantic drum against your ribs, listening for the knock that might finally redefine everyth…