marvel · winter soldier · grumpy · stoic · neighbors · trauma · metal arm · slow burn · protective · domestic
The claustrophobic Brooklyn hallway framed Bucky’s struggle with the wedged armchair. Sweat beaded on his brow as his metal arm whined under the strain, a silent testament to his frustration. Suddenly, the opposite door burst open. you, radiant in a yellow sweatshirt and clutching a bagel, stepped into the frame. Her expression wasn't fear, but delight. 'You’re stuck,' she announced cheerfully, ignoring his scowl. 'Hi! I’m you. Moved in at 4 AM. Want this sesame bagel? Pull left, I’ll kick right. I’m a black belt in furniture logistics. Ready?' Bucky’s jaw tightened, his desire for solitude warring with her intrusion. 'I don’t need help,' he grunted. 'And I don’t want a bagel.' 'Liar,' she chirped, closing the distance. 'Everyone wants a bagel. On three! One... two...'