#And then there’s Steve who I could litterally so blurting it out over coffee because the light hit Billy a certain way

[fizzigigsimmer]

Steve: *proposes randomly in bed* I think I wanna marry you.

Billy: Fuck you Harrington!

Steve: Wha…?

Billy: *muttering obscenities* Now I gotta cancel the gondola and the birds. We’re still going out to eat though cause I’ve had this reservation for like six months.

Steve: Oh… well I wasn’t really proposing, I guess? We could still -

Billy: Fuck you! No take backs. You’e marrying me. End of story!

[itsallavengers]

I’m waiting for a reply from a magazine about designing their next cover, do you have any winteriron headcanons to help relieve the stress?

Tony has always been good at Hair Stuff, mostly because he hung out with Jan Van Dyne a lot when they were kids and she’d often make him do her hair while she read through her magazines. Anyway- it means he knows how to do pretty decent braids and can give a mean fucking head massage, although he doesn’t really have any excuse to show off his skills these days because now Jan’s hair is too short to mess around with. But then! Bucky comes into the tower!!! And at first he’s really quiet and he won’t really talk to anyone unless they speak to him first, and Steve just asks them all to take it easy around him and give him some time, so Tony’s like aight whatevs and mostly just goes about his business.

Until like one night a few weeks in, and he’s gone up to the communal floor for another cup of coffee and he spots Bucky already sat at the kitchen counter, huddled over a book and writing down notes in a notebook as he goes. They say hello to one another and smile, but Bucky looks like he’s busy so Tony doesn’t push for another conversation. He can’t help but notice, however, that every few seconds, Bucky keeps having to push his hair back out of his eyes and curl it around his ears, every shift of his head meaning that more falls into his face. He’s barely noticing that he’s doing it, but Tony pulls a face because it must be annoying right? 

“Don’t you want a hair tie?” He ends up blurting over the rim of his coffee, and Bucky looks up at him with a small jump, brow creasing. 

“Huh?”

Tony just gestures toward his hair. “To keep it all off your face. It must drive you nuts-- if you want to borrow some, I think I’ve got a few in my workshop.”

Bucky pushes a hand absently through his hair, humming in agreement. Then he shrugs. “Nah, it’s alright. I, uh-- I don’t know how to tie my hair up, exactly. Never done it before.” He smiles tightly. “I sort of learn to live with it, you know.”

That sounds very Winter-Soldiery of him; just pushing past any discomfort or irritation, because it wasn’t important. Just a vessel. Tony frowns. It’s a small thing, he knows, but it’s the principal, really. Bucky shouldn’t have to just live with discomfort. “I’ll tie it up for you,” he says casually, waggling his fingers, “I know what I’m doing. I’ll teach you.”

He really doesn’t expect Bucky to agree. Bucky rarely lets anyone other than Steve touch him, and even then, it’s pretty fleeting. And for a moment, Bucky certainly seems ready to deny the request. But then he sags a little, blinking once or twice before shrugging. “If you wouldn’t mind, that’d be a real help. Thank you.”

Tony only allows himself to be surprised for a second-- he doesn’t want Bucky to think that he’s hesitant to follow through, after all. He keeps it simple; just a simple bun at the back of his head, and makes sure that his touch is gentle and he doesn’t tug at any of the hair. Bucky stays very still the whole time while Tony natters on, saying how he’d look great with a french braid, but of course, that’s a task for later. When he’s shown Bucky how to twist the tie and make it stay in his own hair, Bucky thanks him, and Tony leaves. He expects that to be it.

And for a few days, it is. Bucky has learned the basic ponytail and bun from Tony, and walks around the tower with his hair pushed back off his face more often than not. Tony thinks it looks cute on him, and he can’t help but feel glad he’s shown Bucky a way to make life just a little bit easier for himself. And there’s a good 30% increase in eye contact that Bucky makes with him when they’re going about their day, which makes Tony kinda proud too. 

And then, one night about a week later when they’re all sat watching Tomb Raider, Bucky in his little armchair in the corner of the room, he points to Lara Croft and then looks at Tony. “That’s a french braid, right?”

It’s the first thing he’s said all night, and Tony startles a little as all eyes in the room turn to him in confusion, unsure why Bucky is asking him that. Tony just nods. “Yeah, that’s the one.”

Bucky looks back to the TV, and then runs a hand through his hair. The he grins, pulling the hair-tie from off his wrist and waving it in the air. “Can you give me one?” He asks, his smile small and his voice a little nervous. 

Tony doesn’t think twice. “Of course I can, what do you take me for?” 

The whole team is sort of gaping at the two of them-- Tony can admit, even he’s surprised at this turn of events. Bucky doesn’t ask for things; not usually, and especially not from anyone who isn’t Steve. So this is rather out of the blue, to say the least. Not that Tony’s complaining, mind you. He gets the chance to play with Bucky’s hair, and he’s not gonna lie, that was a thought that made him stupidly happy. 

So he walks around to the back of Bucky’s arm chair and then runs his fingers gently through Bucky’s hair. He’s just washed it, so it’s soft and curly around his shoulders. Smells faintly like citrus. It’s lovely, and he spends a little too long using his fingers to ‘comb out the kinks’. Not that Bucky seems to mind. He relaxes onto the chair and closes his eyes, pushing his head back into Tony’s hold. Across the room, Tony catches Steve’s eye. The man raises an eyebrow in silent question, but Tony just shrugs and then begins to separate Bucky’s hair.

He works slower than he needs to, taking the time to run his fingers  over Bucky’s scalp. Once or twice, he feels the other man shiver just a little underneath him. They don’t say much, not until Tony’s finished and Bucky’s hair is pulled back into what he can firmly say is a damn good french braid. “There we go,” he declares when he’s finished, patting Bucky on the top of his head and then grinning, “Lara Croft indeed.”

Bucky smiles at him-- not a small, nervous one, not a tight faked one-- a real, toothy grin that makes Tony’s stomach do a flip. “How do I look?” He asks, framing his face and fluttering his lashes exaggeratedly. Tony snorts.

“Like you’re ready to go raid some tombs,” he says, and Bucky nods in approval, before shuffling up a little on the armchair and patting it with his metal hand. He looks up at Tony in question. “Care to sit with me?” He asks, before saying in a voice that’s a bit quieter, “I have no idea what the fuck is happening in this film. I think I need a translator.”

Tony laughs, and then turns and plonks himself next to Bucky. It’s a bit of a tight squeeze, so their bodies are touching as they lean back. Tony watches the other man’s side profile, admiring his own handiwork, and the man that said handiwork is attached to. Bucky’s jaw could cut glass, and Tony figures (purely hypothetically of course) that the stubble littering his cheeks would give a wicked beard burn. 

He leans a little close to murmur in Bucky’s ear. “Next time, we’re trying out a waterfall braid.”

Bucky raises an eyebrow. “Alright. I trust you to make it look amazing, obviously.”

Tony tries not to look too deeply into the words, but the show of trust, even if it is only to do with Bucky’s hair choices, feels like a big step. Tony is just happy that Bucky has faith in him at all. It’s nice. It means progress.

“Obviously,” he agrees, and bumps their shoulders together before turning back to the TV, their knees just brushing lightly against one another.

[literarytrashcollection]

The Model

AN: I love me a soft, fluffy Bucky. I just wanna snuggle him always. Also, spot the Stan Lee cameo.

Bucky x Reader

----------

I could feel my heart hammering in my chest as I approached the lounge area. Steve and Bucky were talking softly, gentle laughter and whispered memories. How could I interrupt that with something so mundane? I steeled myself at the doorway, mouthing over the words again as I rehearsed what I was going to say for the hundredth time.

I walked in, trying to be casual, and sat down in one of the oversized arm chairs.

“Morning, Y/N,” Bucky said lightly, picking up his coffee. Ever since I had joined the Avengers, I’d be well and thoroughly adopted as the baby of the group. Parker even was defensive over me, and he was younger than me.

I flashed Bucky a nervous smile and looked down at my lap. “Steve, I need to ask you a favor.” I finally blurted after what felt like an eternity of silence. When neither of them spoke, I raised my eyes slightly, meeting Steve’s. “We’re doing…” I cleared my throat. It was suddenly drier than the Sahara in the room and I wanted to run away desperately. “We’re studying the human form for art class and I was wonderingifyouwouldbemymodel.” It came out like word vomit and I swear my face was going to burst into flames from the sheer heat of it.

Bucky snorted. “Aw, Stevie, Y/N wants to get you naked.”

My eyes snapped to Bucky and I narrowed them. “I will end you.” I hissed, but he just laughed harder. “They have a model we can use at school, but I thought the bragging rights would be deserved if I got to use an Avenger. Also, the model at school is a creepy old dude.” The word vomit just kept coming. I was babbling, my nose scrunched up as the image of Stan, the art model came to the forefront of my mind.

I refused to look at Steve—or stop talking—until he said my name gently. When I looked up, he was sitting forward with his elbows on his knees, Dad-Look firmly seated on his face. “Are your intentions pure?” He asked, voice grave but I could see him stifling a smile, just the slightest sparkle of mischief in his eyes.

“That’s it, I’m gonna ask Nat. She’ll do it.” I huffed, standing to storm out of the room. Nat would tease me too, but it would be Titanic jokes, instead of “are you just trying to fuck me” jokes at least.

“I’ll do it,” Bucky said and for a minute, I don’t think me or him or Steve or God even believed what just came out of his mouth. “I mean, if you’re going to get bragging rights for doing an Avenger, it may as well be extra challenging.” He added, raising his metal arm. “Besides, I’m still grounded after I got a little too aggressive with that crime syndicate from my last mission. I’ve got time to kill.”

Steve and I both stared at each other, then back at Bucky. “You know she’s talking about getting you naked, right?” Steve asked.

“No shit, Sherlock. When has my being naked in front of a cute girl ever bothered me?” Bucky retorted. He then took a deep breath and raised his eyebrows at me. “When do we start?”

----------

Bucky came with me to school the next day. The art department was usually empty on Fridays, so we were able to find a room to ourselves easily. I locked the door, closed the blinds and turned on the lights that I needed while Bucky wandered the edges of the room, looking at the knick-knacks and half finished pieces that littered the shelves.

“If you’re an Avenger, why are you still going to college?” He asked abruptly, fingers drifting over a freshly kiln-ed abstract pottery piece.

I shrugged. “Can’t Avenge forever. Besides, I’m still just in training. I’ve got no more clearance than you do.”

I pushed a lounge chair out of the corner and into the center of the room and draped a cloth over it, then set up my easel and stool. I could calm my raging nerves with the methodical routine of my art set up, ignore the warning sirens in my head with the stability and consistency of an easel, a pad of paper, pencils, erasers and fixative.

“You can probably get comfortable now. You brought a book, right?” I asked, setting out pencils and charcoal for myself. I started some music too, just so I could zone out and work without thinking too much about the fact that I was drawing Bucky naked for a grade. I understand all of those words separately, said the voice in my mind, dwelling on it being Bucky and him being naked and the ease of which he was willing to do it.

“I didn’t know I needed to,” he said sheepishly and my heart dropped. He was going to be naked, bored, and making fun of me. I had planned to just draw him reading, but that was out the window. Fan-fucking-tastic. “It’s okay, I can amuse myself.” He said with a dirty smirk, voice dripping innuendo.

I sighed and waited while he stripped down to his underwear. We both met eyes for a moment as he dropped his last article of clothing and every inch the cloth fell from his hips was an inch of blush that crawled up my chest and over my face. I quickly busied myself with adjusting my sketch pad on the easel, making sure my pencils were sharp enough, that I had enough smudge sticks and erasers.

“How should I… How do you want me?” He asked and I swallowed thickly. Not only did I have to draw him naked, but I had to adjust him naked too?

I walked over, making a point to not look at him, but at the space around him as I positioned him, so he was mostly sitting up, one leg kind of propped up, the other stretched out, his metal arm draped across his stomach in an effort to cover his junk for my own benefit.

I tried to position him so he looked strong, powerful, but leisurely. I wanted him to look regal, a man completely in control of himself and the people around him. That’s how I envisioned him. He wasn’t a leader yet, but he could be. “Comfy?”

He nodded and offered me a reassuring smile. “Trust me, this isn’t the weirdest thing I’ve done naked.” What is the weirdest thing you’ve done naked, Barnes? I didn’t ask what my head was screaming, but I couldn’t help my wandering mind.

“That does not instill me with any kind of confidence, Buck.” I sighed, returning to my things. “Try not to move, if you can help it. I’m going to snap a reference photo, just so if you need to get up and go to the bathroom or anything, you can and we can just reposition you.” I picked up my phone and took the photo. God, this was bad. I was horrified. I shouldn’t have even asked Steve. Bucky wouldn’t have known and then I wouldn’t have been in this predicament. Natasha would have been a much better candidate.

“Y/N, this isn’t a big deal, you know? I give you shit, but this isn’t that weird. Just friends hanging out.” I knew he could read my discomfort. It’s not like I hid it at all. But I felt bad being so weird about it at the same time. “Why’d you pick Steve anyway?”

I set my phone down and got comfortable on my stool, trying to decide where to start, both with the picture and with the answer. “He’s an artistic guy. I figured he would understand what I was doing better than most of you guys.”

“But why not Wanda or Natasha? Wanda seems like she’d be into this kind of stuff.” He asked as I started with his foot. I figured the best way to start was to trace the whole thing, then work the details in.

I sighed a little. “I can draw the female figure all day long. I happen to be female, if you hadn’t noticed. So, I kind of already know what it all looks like.”

“So, what? You’re saying you’ve never seen the male figure?” He asked with a laugh. I didn’t reply, which seemed to be answer enough for him. I’d resigned myself to doing this whole assignment with a blush on my face anyways. “Are you a virgin?”

I took a deep breath, focusing intently on my work and the music. I traced the curve of his legs, with my eyes and my pencil. Then his abdomen, his arms, his chest and shoulders.

“It’s okay if you are. I just thought… a pretty girl like you with so much confidence and charisma, you know?” He chuckled, his eyes far away, like he was reveling in some memory dredged up. My heart did a flip when he sucked his lower lip between his teeth, my mind wandering to a filthy place. I had to stop myself.

I put my pencil down for a minute and shut my eyes. “Boys never really liked me because I’m so… strong.” Boyish, masculine, aggressive, independent, memories of all the rejections I’d faced flitted through like a bad slideshow of sadness, quelling any inappropriate thoughts that might’ve been forming.

Bucky actually snorted. “Seriously? No offense, Y/N, but you must be going after pussies.” When I didn’t reply again, focusing instead on his metal arm, he continued: “Doll, if they can’t see through your powers to who you are, they’re just shallow, egocentric douche bags looking for empowerment. You deserve lightyears better than that.”

“It’s hard to find guys who can see past the powers though,” I shrugged. “Guys don’t even want to get close to a girl who can throw them across a room. A lot of the ones who were into that were… weird. And that’s not to say that all men are like that, just the ones that I’ve had to pleasure of dealing with.”

“Definitely not all men,” Bucky chuckled cryptically.

I shook my head, narrowing my eyes as I drew in the slats of his metal arm, added in the glinting light that reflected off of it. I felt my heart squeeze as I drew the marred flesh at his shoulder, the place where they had so indelicately taken his flesh arm away and forced the metal one on him.

“For the record, I think you’re wonderful the way you are.” Bucky piped up awkwardly.

I smiled a little. “Thanks Buck.” I had long since accepted myself. “Dating’s kind of on the back burner. If I happen across a decent guy who genuinely likes me and isn’t put off by my powers, awesome. Otherwise, I’m happy. I’m gonna finish my degree significantly earlier than most, I’m an Avenger and if I ever decide I’m done Avenging, then I’ve got a restaurant back home to run.”

“Is that what you’re in school for?”

“I’m in school for business management and accounting, both of which will help.” I nodded. I stood up and walked over to him, frowning as I studied his chest and the criss-crossing lines of scars that interrupted otherwise beautiful skin. I could feel him watching me, but couldn’t be bothered to care. As long as I didn’t have to study his dick, I could pretend that this wasn’t weird.

“So, why the art classes then?” He asked as I hesitantly reached out and traced a particularly long scar that ran from his collarbone to his hip. Once I was content with my recollection of his scars, I went back to my stool, lightly penciling them in before I went back for the detail work.

I couldn’t help but be enamored by the strong planes of muscle and smooth skin that stretched across his body. He was beautifully constructed and honestly, the artist part of me (and maybe the girl part of me) wanted to study every inch of him from head to toe because he was stupidly perfect. I could’ve spent years drawing him and never stopped being impressed by him.

“I have always loved art. Business is practical, but art is where my heart lives.” I mumbled. It was corny, but it was true. As much as Avenging made me feel good, made me feel like I was in the right place in my life, art was always my dream. Becoming an Avenger was like walking into a tower dedicated to art models, emotions thriving and warring between these god-like beings, emotions just begging to be captured with pencils and paper and paint.

He didn’t say anything for a while and when I looked up, his eyes were shut, face relaxed. Was he really that bored? I let my gaze linger as I studied the peaceful set of his face, the smudge of his lashes that dusted his cheeks, the soft, pillowy shape of his lips, juxtaposed with the sharp angles of his jaw and cheeks, hard and soft beautifully married to make up a face so perfect, it should’ve been illegal.

Maybe that was the real reason he was the most deadly assassin in the world, taking ���if looks could kill” into a reality where he was so beautiful, people just dropped dead.

“Y/N, if you love art so much, that’s what you should do. You shouldn’t do something to make your family happy. You should do something that makes you happy.” Bucky said softly, startling me out of my revere. I busied myself with my drawing again, trying to translate the softness of his face onto the page.

“That’s what my parents keep telling me too,” I sighed.

“They’re right.”

I took a deep breath. Drawing his loose hair made me want to run my fingers through it, feel the softness of it.

Should’ve asked Nat. You wouldn’t be falling in love with her if you were drawing her, came that annoying little voice in my head. My heart thumped in agreement, but it knew that I’d held a special place for Bucky there long before I’d gotten him naked and posed for a drawing.

“What’s your dream, Buck?” I asked, trying to distract myself.

He didn’t speak again for a long time, but this time when I looked over, he was staring right at me, a sadness pulling his eyebrows together and tightening his lips into a hard line. “I think, kinda like Stevie, anything I wanted from life died when I went off the cliff. A lot of what he wanted out of life died in the ice.”

“So, what, you’re just floating aimlessly right now?”

“No,” he shook his head. “I’m trying really hard to heal from the Solider, you know? I want to be a better man now than I was then. I guess I’m just trying to use what I learned from him for good. I guess my dream is to just be better than I was.”

My heart broke for him. He’d been through too much in his life, lost too much of his life to HYDRA and the Soldier inside him.

“I didn’t mean to make you sad. I guess I just feel kind of open to you right now,” he laughed nervously.

I flicked my eyes back up to his face for a moment and shook my head. “I’m just sad for the past you’ve had. You’re already a better man than he was.”

He chuckled and stood, walking over to see what I’d done so far, still buck-naked. I did my best not to look at him, full stretched out in all his glory as he studied my work. His fingers traced some of the lines before he moved his hand to rub my back reassuringly.

“You’re so good at this, doll.” He murmured, pressing a light kiss to the top of my head before he ducked down to grab my purse, rummaging around for the protein bar he’d insisted he would not eat, because he definitely would not get hungry during this.

----------

When we finished, we both stood back studying it. I’d waited to put too much detail into his face until I got him laughing again. The look on his face as he leaned into laughter, the crinkling in his eyes, it made my heart sing loudly. I wanted to live in that feeling, I wanted to always picture him like that, regal and proud and happy, a man marred by the past, but comfortable in his skin and in his life.

He’d hugged me tight, no words on his lips but a simple, heartfelt thank you, Y/N. That by itself made me infinitely more happy with the piece than any grade I could have received.

He insisted on taking a picture with his phone of the piece, then one of me with the piece, “so he could show off the amazing artist.” To whom he planned on showing me off, I didn’t know. He never ventured from the tower much, didn’t have any friends outside of the Avengers, certainly no one that he would be showing nude drawings of himself to. I posed, a cheesy smile on my face nonetheless. He took me out for ice cream afterwards.

----------

At the end of the semester, the best pieces of art were put on display for an art show. I invited all of the Avengers, but only Steve, Natasha, Bucky and Tony could come, just because missions still had to be completed, the world still needed to be saved.

We rolled up to the campus and Tony looked unceremoniously scandalized by the lack of paparazzi and, well, people. He made a show of going on about some of the more famous art shows he’d attended, then nudged me with his shoulder and gave me a wink that told me everything I needed to hear without saying a word. This isn’t a big deal, you have no reason to be nervous, his smile said as he swaggered towards the art department building.

The display room had been redesigned by some of the interior decorating kids. Pottery, paintings, sculptures and drawings all intermingled through out the room, pieces hung from the walls, the ceiling, sat on stands and stools.

Off in the corner, Stan sat on the same stool the students who had used him as a model drew him on, dressed in nothing but a sock to maintain some semblance of modesty. His aviator style glasses and gray mustache bristled as he talked to patrons and students alike.

“You didn’t tell me there would be nudity at this party. Suddenly, I’m much more interested,” Natasha purred in my ear as she sauntered off to examine some of the abstract art. She were trying.

Avenging was easy, I felt no nerves over that. Art? Art was something that I felt down in my bones and watching as strangers and classmates and the people I cared about most poured over it and the details I’d done my best to capture, that made my throat close and the sweat run like rivers down my skin.

Steve and Bucky both pestered me until I took a picture of them posing with Stan, his arms wrapped around their waists as they both grinned hugely at me. Frat boys tried to convince my boys to go back to their houses with them and party. For a moment, I thought maybe they would.

Tony tried to buy someone’s statue of a naked woman, one delicate foot propped up on a hog-tied bear Captain Morgan style. He said he loved the female-empowerment that radiated off it. He wanted to give it to Pepper. Natasha said no and pick-pocketed his wallet off him, waving it me before she dropped it into her purse.

We all stood before my drawing of Bucky at the same time, all of us coming together to study it. I could feel my heart rate rising the longer no one spoke.

“This is absolutely incredible, Y/N,” Steve finally said. “Your attention to detail is insane.”

“It’s scarily lifelike.” Tony added. “Are you sure you didn’t just take his picture?” It was lighthearted ribbing, and it eased my nerves slightly.

“There’s so much emotion coming from this,” Natasha murmured, lacing her fingers with mine for a moment. “It’s beautiful.”

“That’s it, this calls for a celebration. Where’s the drink service at?” Tony said, looking around pointedly. When the rest disbursed, Bucky remained, staring up at the drawing with admiring eyes.

“It doesn’t even look like me.” He whispered, not looking at me. “It does, but it’s not… it feels surreal. That’s not at all how I ever imagine myself.”

He looked down long enough to slide his metal fingers through mine, holding on tightly. “It’s how I imagine you.” I admitted.

“This is how you see me?” He asked, emotion raw in his eyes. My heart started beating wildly, nervous that I had somehow upset him. He’d seen the drawing a dozen times since I’d finished it, but this was the first time he’d seemed truly moved by it. All I could do was nod. He smiled slightly, squeezing my hand hard. “It helps, knowing someone has so much faith in me.”

I rested my head on his shoulder, not responding.

----------

Tony demanded champagne in the car home. Happy rolled his eyes slightly in the rear view mirror as Tony popped the bottle. Natasha passed around glasses and once we were all served, we clinked our glasses together.

While the ride home was short, it was well spent, all of us laughing and chatting. I was permitted to take my piece home with me. Tony told me he wanted to have it hung up in the tower, framed and celebrated for years to come. He also decided he wanted to commission an oil painting of himself, also nude, but posed the same as the statue he had wanted to buy, bear and all.

Happy and Steve had to escort Tony inside, Natasha following after them lazily, a small, happy smile gracing her lips and lighting up her tired eyes. I wanted to draw her next, but I wanted it to be candid. Something fierce and powerful to remind her of how amazing she was.

“Come with me,” Bucky murmured, startling me out of my admiration of my friends. He offered me his arm and I linked mine through it. We walked up the stairs, but we took it slow, chatting quietly about some of the other pieces that we’d seen at the show that we’d liked and pieces we’d hated or just didn’t get (i.e. female Captain Morgan with the bear). We laughed at chatty Stan who’s sock almost fell off twice, once “accidentally” as Natasha talked to him.

He led me up to the viewing deck, a nice balcony that looked over New York. The lights from the buildings and cars glittered like stars, an entire universe built into one city. Bucky moved his hand to my back and stayed quiet with me, letting me drink in the beauty below me. I could have stayed there forever, the warmth of his skin making me cozy.

“Thank you for being my model.” I mumbled after a long moment of silence.

He nodded, his fingers slowly sliding to my hip. “Since I did you that favor, I was wondering if I might have one in return?”

“Of course, anything.” I nodded, studying the way the windows on the buildings reflected the lights of the buildings around them, making everything infinitely brighter.

“Will you do me the pleasure of going on a date with me?” He asked softly, his lips almost at my ear. Suddenly the city was dull compared the beauty of the intimate moment he’d created between us. I looked up at him and was mesmerized by the way his eyes sparkled, his lips turned up into a smile as he held me closer than I had realized he was holding me.

It took me an embarrassingly long time to remember how to speak. “I said anything, didn’t I?” I replied. It was meant to come out snarky, cool and collected. It came out soft though. Even I could hear the wanting in my voice.

He smiled brilliantly, muting all the lights that twinkled below us, only for a moment as he lowered his mouth to mine, fireworks going off somewhere in the vicinity of our joined lips.

[a-splash-of-stucky]

you look so perfect standing there

Pairings: Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes [Not reader-insert]

Summary: When Bucky steps in a Natasha’s model at a shoot, he does not expect the photographer to be this hot.

Warnings: Bucky in lingerie, Bucky thinking very dirty thoughts about Steve, awkward flirting. No smut, but a lot of smutty thoughts. Language. 

Notes: Written for @wehaveabucky’s writing challenge, using the prompt: Photoshoot.

The author of this fic has a gratuitous kink for Bucky in skimpy underwear. I regret nothing. Also, if you ever want to give me a present, I will never turn down fics/artwork involving Bucky in lingerie. Visual inspiration for look [1] [2] and [3]

Stucky Masterlist

Bucky flops onto his couch with a tired sigh, grateful to be off his feet after spending an entire day chasing after a bunch of hyperexcited pre-schoolers. He loves his job, loves the kids in his class but man -- school trips are the worst. Of course, it’s just his luck that this week he’s had to go on three of them.

Thank fuck for child-free weekends.

Bucky hooks his toes under the lip of his coffee table and drags it over. Of course, he could sit up and reach over for the box of pizza, but that requires too much effort. His phone starts ringing just as he’s about to dig in. Cursing under his breath, Bucky wrestles it out of his back pocket and presses the answer button.

“’lo?”

“Barnes,” comes a crisp voice.

“Romanov,” Bucky replies, as he flips open the pizza box and grabs a slice.

“You’re free this weekend, yes?” she asks.

Bucky freezes, hand poised in mid-air. “Uh…I did have plans,” he says slowly.

Natasha snorts. “Really?” she drawls. Bucky can imagine her pursing her lips.

“Oh yeah,” he agrees, as he stuffs half the slice into his mouth. “M’gonna sleep in, sit on the couch all day, marathon Parks and Rec, eat a shit ton of junk—,”

“Great, you’re gonna be my model,” she announces.

Bucky splutters in surprise. “I’m gonna what now?”

“A model, Barnes. Y’know—,”

“Yes, I know what a model is, Nat,” he snaps, “But why me?”

“Eh, you’ve got a decent ass,” she replies.

Bucky snorts indignantly. “Excuse me, I’ll have you know that my ass is – wait, did you just compliment me? You think my ass looks nice?”

“I said it looks decent,” Nat says, enunciating clearly. “And stop fishing for compliments. Look, you know that I’ve got a new line of lingerie coming out for the store, right? My model cancelled on me last minute, and I needed someone on short notice.”

“I’m flattered to be your plan B,” Bucky says dryly.

“Actually, you’re more like plan E.”

“Oh, fuck you,” Bucky grumbles.

Nat huffs. “So. You in? This Sunday, for a couple of hours.”

Bucky sighs heavily. “Nat. I’m a teacher, I can’t—,”

“It’ll be completely anonymous,” she assures him. “Body shots only, your face won’t be included. And it’s not like you have any identifying marks on your body, so…”

As her voice trails off, Bucky heaves a dramatic sigh. “Okay, fine, but you’re buying me pizza after.”

“Deal. I’ll send you the address in a bit.”

----------

When Sunday rolls around, Bucky is most definitely not nervous. Of course not. That funny feeling in his stomach is just…indigestion. Possibly excitement. No nerves whatsoever.

Maybe he’s a little nervous.

He shows up to the location about ten minutes before he’s expected to be there. Nat’s directions have brought Bucky to an empty loft space in downtown. Bucky can understand why Nat’s chosen to have the shoot here; the exposed brick walls, wooden floors and overall industrial vibe is exactly the kind of aesthetic she tends to go for.

The loft is bustling with activity when Bucky arrives. People are dragging around lights, backdrops and various pieces of furniture. Bucky cranes his head around, looking for Nat. He startles when someone taps him on the shoulder.

When he turns around, his nearly gasps in surprise. His brain descends into chaos as his eyes are confronted the most gorgeous man he’s ever seen; blonde, with bright blue eyes and a disarming smile that Bucky wants to kiss right off his lips. Blondie is built as fuck, his broad shoulders and chest tapering into a ridiculously small waist. He’s dressed in a pair of jeans that hug his muscular thighs and a light blue t-shirt that clings to him like a second skin.

“Hi,” Blondie says, “You’re James, right?”

Oh. Oh, dear God, he’s talking to you – answer him you idiot, ANSWER HIM!

Why does his inner voice sound a lot like Rebecca?

“Uhh,” Bucky says. He mentally face-palms himself and tries not to outwardly grimace.  

Nice going, Barnes.

Blondie quirks an eyebrow, a hint of a smirk tugging on the corner of his lips.

“Y-yeah, I’m James,” Bucky says, wincing internally at his stutter. “But, uh—just call me Bucky. Only my ma’s allowed to call me James.”

“Bucky, huh?” Blondie says, “Nice to meet you. I’m Steve.”

“Steve,” Bucky echoes distractedly, too busy watching the mesmerising movements of Steve’s lips. He really, really wants to kiss them. “Yeah, yeah, it’s uh…nice to meet you too.”

Get it together, Barnes, where’s your game at?

If Steve’s amused by Bucky’s bumbling pleasantries, he doesn’t let it show in his expression. “So, I’m gonna be your photographer for today,” Steve says casually.  

Fucking hell, Bucky is not gonna survive this day.

“Oh,” Bucky squeaks, “That’s great. That’s cool, yeah. Yeah, really excited to work with you, Steve, Nat’s told me about you.”

Steve laughs softly, ducking his head in embarrassment. “What’d she say about me?”

Hngh, how can this man simultaneously be the hottest and also the most adorable thing on this planet? It’s not fucking fair.

Bucky grins. At least, he thinks he’s grinning.

“Only the good stuff,” he replies, “She told me that you’re the only person she’d trust to run this shoot.”

Steve shakes his head like he can’t believe Natasha said that about him. To be fair, that woman does not give out compliments easily. He clears his throat and meets Bucky’s eyes once again. “Okay, well—um, we’ve got a pretty packed schedule today, so if you wanna head to hair and makeup and get changed and whatever…I’ll just…I need to finish setting up.”

“Yeah,” Bucky agrees, “Yeah, see you in a bit, Steve.”

Steve flashes him another one of easy smiles and squeezes Bucky’s shoulder before he walks off. The lingering warmth of his hand sends shivers down Bucky’s spine. As Steve walks away, Bucky takes the opportunity to ogle his ass – those jeans are doing wonders for him. And that shirt? Hello sexy shoulder muscles.

Bucky heaves a shaky breath and runs his fingers through his hair.

He is so, so fucked for this shoot.

----------

“Oh, hey Wanda!” Bucky calls, as he walks into the dressing area. “You’re here to make me look good, I take it?”

“Yup,” she says, “Drop your bag anywhere, then come sit by the vanity. You need all the help you can get, so we’d best get started.”

“Har-har, Wan,” Bucky drawls. He drops the gym bag holding his change of clothes beside the vanity, then plops down in the foldable chair that Wanda pointed to. The surface of the table is littered with an assortment of beauty utensils, and the mirror has huge bulbs built into the frame.

“You look a little nervous,” Wanda comments, as she clips his bangs out of the way and starts to smooth some sweet-smelling cream all over his face. “Why’re you nervous? I know for a fact that this isn’t your first shoot.”

She’s right. Back when Natasha was in fashion school and just launching her online boutique, Bucky had often been the person to model her garments. He’d also done a few other modelling gigs back when he was a broke-ass college student, for some quick cash. He and Wanda had met on one of those gigs; when Bucky introduced her to Natasha, the two of them had hit it off, and now they’re something of a team.  

So yeah, Wanda is correct; this is not Bucky’s first photoshoot.

“’S my first one in lingerie, though,” Bucky mutters. He closes his eyes as Wanda starts to buff some foundation onto his face.

Wanda snorts. “Buck, you’ve done underwear modelling before, right? How’s this any different?”

Bucky shrugs. “Dunno,” he replies, even though he does. This photoshoot is different because the photographer is the most beautiful man that Bucky’s ever seen and Bucky desperately wants to bone him. Or be boned by him, whatever, Bucky’s not picky.

As Wanda picks up her powder, Bucky frowns in confusion, a lightbulb going off in his head.

“Wanda, why the hell’re you puttin’ makeup on me for?” he asks, “Nat said my face wasn’t even gonna be in the shot.”

Wanda pauses, her brush in mid-air. “Crap,” she mutters, “I forgot. It’s like a reflex, sorry. I’ll wipe it off—,”

“Wait!” Bucky blurts. She freezes in surprise.

If he’s going to have any chance at getting into Steve’s pants – or at least, at getting Steve to ask him out on a date so that he can eventually get into Steve’s pants – then he’s going to need every piece of help that he can get.  

“I didn’t say I didn’t like it,” Bucky says, shooting her an easy smile. “I do. It helps me get in the right headspace.”

“Oh,” she says, blinking in surprise. “Oh, okay then, I’ll just…continue on.”

“Please do.”

“But seriously, relax, Bucky,” Wanda says, as she sweeps powder onto his face. “You got this.”

Bucky sighs. “M’ just a lil’ nervous, is all. Haven’t done this in a while, don’t go to the gym as often as I used to.”

“Bucky Barnes? Insecure in his own skin?” Wanda scoffs. “Puh-lease, now there’s a joke if I ever saw one.”

----------

Natasha drops by the hair and makeup area just as Wanda leaves in search of an extension cable.

“Romanov,” Bucky hisses.

She arches an eyebrow at his tone. “Yes, James?”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he growls, careful to keep his voice down so as to not draw anyone’s attention.

“Tell you what?”

Bucky makes an exasperated noise and gestures towards Steve, who’s setting up some lights with the help of a couple of assistants. Natasha follows his gaze and, when she spots Steve, chuckles darkly.

“Oh, that you’d be parading around in lacy underwear in front of a blonde beefcake?” she asks, folding her arms over her chest.

Bucky rolls his eyes. “Yeah. That.”

“Whoops, it must’ve slipped my mind,” she says innocently.

“Some friend you are,” Bucky grumbles.

She hums thoughtfully as her eyes drift back to Steve. “He’s bi, you know? And single, too.”

“Fuck me,” Bucky groans, his heart doing excited somersaults in his chest.

Nat snickers. “No, but that’s something you might wanna ask Steve about,” she teases.

“Oh, fuck off,” Bucky snaps, turning away from her to hide his blush.

“Who knows, Barnes,” she sing-songs, “Something good could come out of this. Look, you’re gonna be parading in front of him in black lace, so make the most of it, is all I’m saying.”

Bucky snorts. “Would you kill me if I have a boner in like, half the pics?”

She turns on her heel and stalks off, shoulders shaking with silent laughter.

----------

Once Wanda has finished his makeup and arranged his hair into a loose bun, she hands Bucky a pair of black lace panties, which, apparently, constitute his first ‘outfit’.

“Off you go,” she says, ushering him towards the corner of the dressing area, where a privacy screen has been set up. “There’s a mirror behind the screen and there should be a robe hanging off of it.”

Bucky dutifully trots off to get changed. He unzips his hoodie and slides his sweats and boxers down, leaving his clothes folded in a neat pile beside the mirror. The lace is surprisingly soft against his skin and the black compliments his skin tone nicely. He’d been worried that the lace would be too revealing, but actually, the pattern is busy enough to not leave him too indecently exposed. Bucky twists around to check the view from the back and gives himself a pat on the shoulder; his ass looks good.

When he looks at himself dead-on, though, he can’t help but feel a little self-conscious. Maybe he should’ve done some extra crunches when he went to the gym yesterday, or possibly even opted for something other than the greasy Chinese takeout he had last night. Either way, his abs are not as defined as they could be.

Is Steve the kinda guy that likes a toned man? Or, is he okay with a little bit of pudginess? Well, if Bucky’s going to be prancing around in his underwear in front of Steve, he’s going to damn well make sure that he looks smokin’ hot. That means pulling out all the stops.

“Hey Wanda?” he calls.

“Yeah?”

“Can you c’mere for a sec?”

“What’s up?” she asks, popping her head around the side of the screen. When she catches sight of him, she gives a low whistle. “Woah, Bucky, you look nice.”

“Thanks,” he murmurs, flushing hot. “Um—d’you think you could…abs?” he mumbles, gesturing vaguely towards the region of his body in question.

“Abs?” she echoes, confused. “What about ‘em?”

“Could you…make ‘em look more obvious?”

Wanda smirks knowingly. “You want me to contour your abs, Bucky?”

“Yes,” Bucky sighs. “Make me look like I go to the gym five times a week.”

“I mean, yeah, I can do that, but you look great, so I don’t really see the point. What brought this on?” Wanda asks, as she steps around the privacy screen. She pulls out a brush and some contour powder from the utility belt strapped around her waist.

“Nothin’, I just wanna look good,” Bucky says.

She cocks her head to the side. “Look good? But you—oh my god,” she gasps.

“What?”

A maniacal grin stretches her lips. “It’s because of Steve, isn’t it?”

Bucky narrows his eyes at her. “No, it’s not,” he says tersely.  

“It is, it totally is,” she giggles, “Oh, did you know that he’s—,”

“Bisexual and single, yeah, Nat’s already told me that.”

“More importantly, he’s your type,” she whispers contritely, nudging Bucky with her elbow.

“I don’t have a type,” Bucky retorts defensively, “I just go for the nice guys!”

“Uh-huh,” Wanda says, a dubious expression on her face. “The nice guys with blonde hair and thighs that were made for grinding on, am I right?

Bucky doesn’t dignify her with an answer.

(She’s totally right)

“Flex your muscles. Tense up,” she instructs.

Bucky does as he’s told. Wanda dusts contour powder over his body.

“What d’you think about body oil?” she asks, as she moves her brush to his iliac furrow, sculpting out those lines too.

“What do I think about body oil?”

She looks up at him, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Imagine – glistening abs, glistening shoulders, looking like you’ve just had the best sex of your life—,”

“Sign me the fuck up.”

----------

After making himself look like a vision of sex, Bucky throws on a black silk robe and pads off in search of Steve. Bucky finds him standing beside a pile of white sheets that have been spread out on the floor. They’re piled on top of each other, creating sensual ripples in the fabric.

“Hey, Bucky!” Steve chirps, flashing another one of those killer smiles. “We’ve just finished setting up, you’re just on time.”

“This is the set?” Bucky asks, jerking his chin towards the unassuming mountain of white fabric.

Steve nods enthusiastically. “Yep. We couldn’t find a real bed on such short notice, so we kinda had to make do. The plan is for you to roll around in the sheets, with me standing above you, and then I’ll get a few shots. Sounds cool?”

“Yep!” Bucky replies, voice a little strangled.

Sure. No big deal. He’s going to be rolling around in silk sheets, in his lacy underwear, with Steve standing over him. No big deal.

“Great. So, if you’ll just drop the robe, we can get started.”

Bucky takes a deep, fortifying breath, then unties the sash holding his robe together. He doesn’t miss Steve’s sharp inhale as the silky garment slips off his shoulders. Despite his nerves, Bucky has to bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself from grinning. He hands the robe to an assistant and then crawls onto the sheets. When he’s in the middle of them, he twists around so that he’s lying on his back.

Steve is watching him with an unreadable expression on his face. “If you could just let your legs fall open a little,” he instructs, “Bring your feet in – yeah, just like that.”

Once he’s arranged Bucky to his satisfaction, Steve picks up his camera and stands between Bucky’s legs. The air is filled with the rhythmic snap of the shutter, as well as Steve’s murmured encouragements and instructions. Bucky’s nerves fall away as he gets into the zone. He manipulates his body as Steve directs, arching and flexing and relaxing as required.

The knowledge that his face won’t be in any of the shots doesn’t stop Bucky from giving Steve his best bedroom eyes. Bucky tips his head back invitingly, baring his throat and letting his lids droop half-shut. He parts his lips on an exhale, the corner of his mouth crooked up in a soft smile. He hopes that Steve is picking up his signals.

Steve curses under his breath when Bucky slips his right thumb into the waistband of his panties and tugs them down a little, as if he were about to slip them off. Bucky spends some time teasing Steve like this, sliding his fingers back and forth, and slipping a couple down the front, so that his fingertips are brushing the base of his cock. He arches his back and thrusts his pelvis upwards, his lips parting of their own accord on a silent moan.

“Uh, Bucky?” Steve asks, tearing his eyes away from the camera for a second. His tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip; Bucky notes the flush of colour on his cheeks.

“Could you—um, could you roll over, please? I need to – uh, I need to get some shots of your a—I mean, I need to get some shots of the back,” Steve stutters.

“You wanna get some shots of my ass, Steve, all you gotta do is ask,” Bucky drawls, smirking to himself as he rolls onto his stomach.

He finds himself naturally bringing his knees up under him and pressing his chest to the floor; the position draws attention to his lace-clad ass. Bucky can feel the weight of Steve’s stare, intense and heated, as it rakes over his back. He has half a mind to start grinding against the sheets, humping the floor like he’s some horny teenager.

Once Steve’s gotten all the shots he needs, Bucky gets sent off to Wanda to change into his next set. She’s waiting in the dressing area with a knowing smirk on her face.

“What?” Bucky asks, as he walks past her.

“Don’t ‘what’ me, Barnes,” she says, turning to keep pace with him. “I think the only way you could’ve been more obvious was if you ripped the panties off and flat-out asked him to fuck you. Like, seriously, we all thought we were seconds away from watching you two shoot a porno!”

“Yeah, well,” Bucky shrugs, despite the flush crawling up his cheeks. “Didn’t want to give him any reason to doubt, y’know? If he wants it, he wants it and I’m gonna let him have it.”

“You should’ve seen the look on his face when you rolled over,” she comments, as Bucky steps behind the privacy screen. “I’m pretty sure he was about to have a heart attack.”

“My ass does that to people,” Bucky agrees. Wanda snorts in response.

The next set that Bucky changes into comprises of more pieces. There’s a pair of white thigh-highs with a lace trim, a garter belt to hold them up and some matching lace panties to complete the look. These panties are cut differently to the ones that Bucky currently has on; nearly half his ass is going to be on show.

Luckily, Bucky’s ass is at peak form. All those squats have finally paid off.  

“Hey Wanda?” he calls, as he takes the lingerie pieces off their hangers.

“Yeah?”

“Do I put panties over garter, or garter over panties?”

“Garter over panties,” she replies, “You only do it the other way ‘round if you’re planning to take the panties off, which we’re not doing.”

“But what if I wanna take ‘em off?”

“Barnes, none of us wants to see your bare ass,” Wanda sighs.

“Steve might,” Bucky grumbles.

The garter belt and clips are a little fiddly, but once everything is in place, Bucky has to admit that he looks good. The thigh-highs elongate his legs and the belt emphasises the smooth curve of his waist. His cock is snugly held by the lace panties and the bottom of his ass cheeks look especially perky.

If Bucky were Steve, he’d fuck Bucky.

Bucky slips on his robe and pads back out to the main area, where an assistant points him to where he’s needed. From the looks of it, he’ll just be shot in front of a simple black backdrop – Bucky is thankful that this set-up doesn’t involve Steve standing over him, as he doesn’t think that he’ll survive another round of that. A couple of light boxes cast a warm glow.  

Steve catches his gaze and smiles, gesturing for Bucky to step onto the set. This time, when Bucky drops his robe, Steve is more open with his appreciation; his eyes widen noticeably, and he pulls his bottom lip between his teeth. His gaze roams over Bucky’s body hungrily and, when their eyes meet again, he doesn’t bother to apologise.

“You look good,” he says instead, voice dark and husky.

A rush of heat travels down Bucky’s spine.

The current set-up is more similar to modelling gigs that Bucky’s had in the past, but the fact that he’s strutting around in fancy lingerie is definitely new. He’s also never wanted to fuck his photographer this bad, either.

“Okay, Bucky, if you could just tip your head back and cross one leg in front of the other – yes, hold it, just like that,” Steve praises, peering into the viewfinder as he snaps a few pictures. Steve encourages Bucky to move around and do whatever feels natural, so Bucky finds himself twisting himself this way and that, focusing on creating sinuous, sensuous lines with his body.

“That’s great, Buck, real good,” Steve murmurs, every now and then.

Bucky finds it ridiculously endearing that Steve’s somehow managed to make a nickname out of his nickname. He likes how the syllable sounds as it rolls off Steve’s tongue, the easy familiarity behind it. Bucky wants to find out what his name sounds like rolling off of Steve’s tongue when Bucky’s sucking on his dick or riding his cock, but that’s a mystery to be solved later.

“Turn around for me, please? Great, could you put one hand on the back of your neck and look at me over your shoulder?”

Bucky does as he’s told, craning his neck around until he’s looking at Steve. He notices how Steve’s gaze is appreciative as he casts it over Bucky’s back and ass. When their eyes meet, the corner of Steve’s lip twitches, like he’s resisting the urge to smirk. Bucky wouldn’t call himself vain – well, no vainer than the average person, at least – but he’s looked at the mirror enough times to know that he’s got a little bit of muscle definition going on back there when he flexes. Clearly, Steve likes what he sees.

Bucky makes sure to arch his back so that his ass looks perkier. He tells himself that he’s doing this for the sake of modelling the panties, but really, it’s because Bucky wants to shove his ass into Steve’s face.

Figuratively and literally.

----------

Bucky’s final pair of panties are deep-red and high-waisted, with a criss-cross ribbon design in the back. Wanda also hands him an oversized, white, long-sleeve button-down to wear; it hangs off his shoulders in a sultry manner.

Bucky is accosted by Natasha after Wanda finishes touching-up his makeup and dousing his hair in more texturing spray.

“Barnes,” she says primly.

“Yes, Natasha?”

The smile she gives him doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “You’re modelling for an advertising campaign, yes?”

Bucky nods in agreement.

“Good,” she says, “Keep that in mind.”

His brows pull together in confusion. “What’re you…tryna say, Nat?”

“Stop acting like you’re on a porn shoot.”

Bucky blanches. “Am I…that obvious?” he asks, as they start walking to the next set.

She quirks one perfectly plucked eyebrow. “Look, if you wanna seduce Steve, then don’t let me stop you, just…maybe stop trying to get him to fuck you on the spot?”

“I…make no promises,” Bucky says.

Nat snorts. “Then I retract my promise of buying you pizza.”

Bucky’s eyes land on Steve, who’s conversing with a couple of assistants on the other side of the space. “If I get to have a slice of that beefcake, I think I’ll be okay,” he tells her.

“Oh my god,” Natasha mutters, shoving his shoulder. “That was terrible. I’m leaving you, go away.”

Bucky walks away from her, still cackling.

The final set consists of a chaise lounge that has been positioned in the corner of the space, in front of an exposed brick wall. It’s angled so that it is bathed in the sunlight pouring in from a nearby window. The chaise is upholstered with maroon velvet and sits low to the ground. There are cream and off-white blankets draped over it in a haphazard manner, and someone has piled on some throw pillows.

Steve grins when he spots Bucky, not bothering to hide his meaningful once-over. Because Bucky’s wearing the oversized shirt, Wanda hadn’t bothered to give him a robe. And, since the shirt is unbuttoned, Steve can plainly see the red panties that Bucky is wearing.

“How do I look?” Bucky asks, as he makes a show out of turning around in a circle.

Steve tilts his head to the side, an amused smile on his lips.

“Stunning,” he replies softly.

Bucky swallows, his throat suddenly going dry. Jesus, is this guy even real?

Steve asks Bucky to lie on his couch with his head against the arm rest, legs sprawled out over the blankets.

“I just want you to relax into it, Buck,” Steve says, as he brings his camera to his eyes. “Less posing more…softness. Like you’ve just woken up.”

With those directions in mind, Bucky slouches further into the chaise and brings one knee up, resting his wrist atop it as his shirt pools around him. With the too-big garment constantly slipping down his shoulders, Bucky has multiple excuses to run his hands over his body, under the guise of rearranging the material. The shutter clicks continuously.

Bucky has long recognised the value of having a narrative to use when he’s modelling; if he can become someone, if he can step into a character’s shoes, then it becomes much easier for him to deliver the desired aesthetic. With his skimpy red panties and his oversized shirt, it’s easy for Bucky to imagine that he’s spending the night at Steve’s place, and that he’s borrowed Steve’s shirt so that he’s not totally naked as he lounges on the couch. Oh yeah, that’s a dream he’s happy to entertain – maybe they’ve been seeing each other for a while and this is the first time that Bucky’s spending the night at his place. Yeah, that would explain why he doesn’t have any clothes here.

Or maybe – maybe Bucky’s some sort of kept boy, a sugar baby, perhaps. Steve’s given him these nice panties and has now asked Bucky to model them for him. Distantly, Bucky wonders if Steve would be into that kind of relationship.  

Steve calling his name snaps Bucky out of his whimsical daydream.

“Huh?” Bucky says, blinking owlishly at Steve. Damn, what’d he just miss?

Steve smiles benignly. “I asked if you could get up on your knees so that I could see the back.”

“Oh,” Bucky murmurs, “Yeah, sure.”

He rearranges himself so that he’s kneeling on the chaise, facing the brick wall behind it. Bucky slips the shirt off his shoulders and gathers most of the material in his hands, so that it drapes over the backs of his legs and leaves his ass completely exposed. When he hears Steve’s sharp intake of breath, he smirks – the criss-cross design exposes the top of his crack in a rather scandalous way.

Steve moves around him, taking shots at various angles. Bucky tenses his muscles and flexes his back, contorting his body every way he can, to give Steve some variety to work with.

“That’s good, Buck, that’s real good,” Steve praises, “Could you turn to the right a little – yes, just like that.”

The entire photoshoot is over in a depressingly short amount of time.

Steve calls it a wrap with a booming voice and a loud clap of his hands. Bucky shrugs the shirt back onto his shoulders, but leaves it unbuttoned as he walks back over to the dressing area, unwilling to hide his body from Steve’s appreciative gaze. The man in question gives Bucky a friendly smile as Bucky walks past him. Steve opens his mouth like he’s about to say something, but gets distracted when Natasha calls him.

Bucky grabs the bag that he’d dumped beside the makeup station and brings it to the changing area. He slips out of the panties and the button-down, then pulls on the street clothes that he’d brought with him; CKs, a pair of black skinny jeans and his favourite red pullover. Bucky stuffs the hoodie and sweats that he’d been wearing earlier into his bag, bids goodbye to Wanda and is scanning the studio for Nat when someone catches his wrist.

“Hey,” Steve says breathlessly, when Bucky turns to face him.

“Hey yourself,” Bucky replies.

“I—uh, I just wanted to say that I had a great time working with you today,” Steve says, ducking his head shyly. “Uh—yeah, you were really fun to shoot. It’s always nice to work with someone playful and responsive.”

Bucky flushes, scuffing the toe of his Converse against the floor in embarrassment. “Um—thanks. That’s—yeah, it was real great working with you too, Steve. You—um. You really knew what you were doing.”

Really, Barnes? Can you not handle a compliment or something?

Steve ducks his head in acknowledgement of the praise, a tiny smile on his lips. “Thanks,” he murmurs. Steve opens and closes his mouth a couple of times, as if he were about to say something, but then thought better of it.

“You doin’ anything nice this afternoon?” Bucky asks, as he readjusts his grip on his bag.

Steve snorts. “You, I hope,” he mumbles. There’s a half-second of silence, before his eyes widen and a scarlet blush blooms over the apples of his cheeks.

“I—I mean,” he stammers “I—uh, shit, that’s not what I—I mean, yes, I’d like that but—okay, fine laugh it up.”

Bucky is giggling – giggling, like he’s some sort of schoolgirl – at Steve’s mortified expression. “Well, that’s one way to be direct,” he jokes, as he wipes the tears from his eyes.

If it were possible, Steve’s flush goes even redder. “I—what I meant to say,” Steve sighs, “Was—would you, uh, I mean, are you busy this afternoon?”

Bucky cocks his head to the side and appraises him. “Well,” he drawls, “I did have plans.”

Steve’s face falls. “Oh,” he says quietly. “Oh, that’s okay, I don’t wanna—,”

“I was gonna go home,” Bucky continues, talking over Steve. “Take a bath, order in some pizza, crack open a beer, maybe watch some Game of Thrones.”

He trails off with a shrug. “But, y’know. ‘M open to other suggestions,” he says, knocking his shoulder against Steve’s.  

“Really?” Steve murmurs, a smile gracing his lips. “Well, maybe you’d let me take you out for a coffee?”

Bucky bites his lip and nods. “Yeah, Steve. Yeah, I’d really like that.”

[darlingpeter]

black butterflies and déjà vu

hi everyone! this wasn’t a request but it’s something that i’ve been working on for quite a while! it’s based on one of my favorite songs of the same title by the maine! this is my attempt to slowly drag myself out of the lonely pit that is writer’s block, and any feedback is super appreciated!

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

warnings: none, just some extreme fluff

length: 3517 words

what would you say

If you could say

Everything you needed to

To the one you needed to?

Bucky first met you at a farmers market.

Ever since he moved to the compound after the Winter Soldier stuff died down, Steve had encouraged him to get reacquainted with the city, and more often than not, that meant wandering the streets of Brooklyn with a baseball cap pulled down over his face, his hands stuffed in the pockets of a sweatshirt as he walked.

There was something about open-air markets that always drew him in. Maybe it was because with all of the change that the world had undergone while he was iced, the markets always seemed to stay the same with their cacophony of friendly chatter and loud bargaining, the delicious smells of street food and kettle corn, and the friendly atmosphere that existed in a city that could be so harsh.

He avoided eye contact as much as he could with the people around him, still harboring the fear that someone would recognize him from the months his picture spent flashing across the news and make a scene.

He didn’t want to be feared. He just wanted to be normal. As much as he could be, at least.

He loved the diversity of the booths that were available. There was everything from handmade soaps and candles to hand-dyed shirts and fresh produce. Kids ran by with bright balloons and bags of kettle corn, and he found a small smile spreading across his features before too long.

His gaze was captured by the way that the panes sitting outside a booth selling stained glass caught the sunlight and transformed it into ethereal colors. However, something far more breathtaking caught his eye.

You.

Okay, so maybe Steve’s advice wasn’t the only thing that kept drawing him back to the weekly market. Maybe it was the gorgeous girl that always stopped by the same booth that sold flowers at just about noon every week, the kind varying weekly with what the shop had to offer. That week, it was a bouquet of colorful wildflowers. The week before, it had been zinnias, and dahlias the time before that.  

He knew it sounded creepy. God, it sounded creepy. But seeing you offer a friendly smile to the vendor, slip a generous tip into the jar next to the register, and then walk away with the flowers in one hand and a cup of coffee from a shop a block away in the other just brightened his day in the way that few things could.

So when he woke up at 6 AM like he always did because of his bullshit circadian rhythm, he heaved out a heavy sigh and ran a hand over his face, dread settling into his bones like it always did in the morning. However, when he realized that it was a Thursday, the weight seemed to lift a little bit, because it was the day that he would be able to see you at the market.

He took a quick shower - cold because he didn’t have the patience to wait for the water to heat up - and then pulled on what Tony called his “civilian getup,” which consisted of jeans, a black long sleeved shirt, and a plain grey baseball cap. With little else but a quick look in the mirror, he was out the door and into the dewy morning.

He walked the all-too familiar path through the neighborhood, melting into the small amount of traffic of people to walking to work or any of the various coffee shops that litter the storefronts in order to get their morning fix. Before he was iced, he would’ve likely been part of that crowd, but he had a strong belief that people nowadays liked their coffee too sweet, and if he were to just get it black, why not make it at home and spare himself the few bucks?

He fiddled with a loose thread in his pocket as he took the turn toward the market, smiling as the bustling street came into view. He was happy to recognize a lot of the regular booths, and even offered a small nod to the woman at the beeswax stall who gave him a smile and a kind good morning.

However, when he reached the other side of the market, near the all-too-familiar flower booth, his ray of sunshine was nowhere to be found. He was distracted for a moment, wondering why she broke her normal routine and where she could be, when the answer literally walked into him.

You had just hung up from a phone call and hadn’t been paying attention, causing you to run into the brick wall of a man, dropping your cup of coffee and small bouquet of orange tulips onto the pavement. Bucky cringed, hearing the crunch of paper and the splash of liquid on the pavement and immediately crouched down in order to help pick them up. He gently scooped up the blooms and stood, but he went rigid when he lifted his eyes to meet yours.

It was you.

You were frozen in shock, your eyes wide, and Bucky’s heart sank, scared that you were frightened of him. That fear dissipated only a moment later when you let out a soft gasp and a squeak of “oh my God, I’m so sorry! Are you okay?”

It was only then that he noticed that quite a bit of coffee had spilled on his jacket, and that its scalding heat was just beginning to seep through the fabric. He wanted to assure you that he was fine, but under your concerned gaze his cheeks turned pink and his words got caught in his throat.

“I-I’m alright, sorry about your coffee, miss.” He managed to stutter out, holding out the flowers.

“It was completely my fault, I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going.” You apologized as you took the flowers from his hands. Your fingers brushed gently over those on his metal hand, and even though his hands were gloved, it still made him tense. Luckily, you either didn’t notice or didn’t care enough to call him out on it because your expression never faltered. “God, I’m such an idiot, I’m sorry.”

“I could buy you another cup of coffee, if you want?” He blurted, his mouth moving much faster than his mind was.

He was afraid that he was being too forward and that you would think he was some kind of creep, but he was relieved when you smiled at him. “I actually have to go to work right now, but I’d love to take you up on that offer later, um…”

“Bucky.” He quickly supplied, and your face lit up with a kind smile.

“I’m Y/N. It’s nice to meet you.”

For some reason, being around you and being able to talk to you just made him feel warm in a way that he hadn’t felt since before he had been iced. After you quickly exchanged numbers and said your goodbyes, you flashed him a genuine grin and called, “I’ll see you later, Bucky!”

Hearing you say his name gave him butterflies in his stomach, and as he watched you walk away, he was half-convinced that the interaction was all a dream.

~

It took three dates for Bucky to open up to you about who he really was.

The two of you had gone back to your place after grabbing dinner at a diner that claimed to have the greatest pie in all of New York (and it had been pretty damn good, he wasn’t going to lie). You cracked open a bottle of rosé and poured it into two coffee mugs. “I once had two wine glasses but then a friend had her bachelorette party here and I bet you can guess how that turned out.” You said in explanation, and Bucky let out a small laugh.

He had learned a lot about you in the past few weeks. He knew how you liked your coffee, what emojis you used the most while you texted, and what your favorite kind of chocolate was. Topics ranged a little deeper on your dates as well, as you told him about how you grew up, why you came to New York in the first place, and revealed your favorite spots in the city to find some quiet amidst the constant buzz of chaos.

He felt as though he was finally starting to get to know you, but also felt guilty because in listening to everything you had to say, he didn’t interject much about himself into the conversation. It’s not that he didn’t have the opportunity to; there were plenty of times where you asked about him and he would hesitate and say something vague or change the subject. He hated it - he felt like he was lying to you in a way, and he just couldn’t bear it anymore.

So he told you on the couch that night, with his heart pounding in his ears and his hands shaking slightly as he held onto his mug. The moment that “the winter soldier” passed his lips, your expression fell, and his face grew hot with shame. He avoided eye contact with you as he stared into his cup.

“I thought you looked familiar.You were on the news.” You spoke softly after a moment, and Bucky’s heart sank. He could only imagine the horrendous and vile thoughts you now associated him with, and he was unable to deal with the fact that your gaze, which had been so kind and warm in the past, would now be clouded with judgement or maybe even fear when it fell upon him.

He cleared his throat, set his mug down on the coffee table, and stood, wiping his sweaty palms on the thighs of his jeans. “I-I’m sorry, I should probably go. I didn’t mean to scare you.” He murmured hurriedly, cursing himself for thinking that he had any chance with you. He

“Bucky, I’m not scared.” You spoke softly, and when Bucky turned back to look at you, he saw nothing but concern in your eyes. You wordlessly reached out for him, and he took it your hand with his gloved right. He sat back down as you gingerly placed your mug on the coffee table beside his and sat cross-legged facing him on the couch. You pulled his hands into your lap, his palms facing upward. Wordlessly, you pulled off the glove of his right hand, revealing the calloused skin of a man who worked with his hands.

The left one got pulled off as well, and Bucky tensed as the plated metal of his prosthetic came into view.

You gently ran your fingers over the cool cybernetic surface and he watched uneasily.

“I did some of my own research about the Winter Soldier too because I felt like there was something missing from the normal spiel that they gave on him on T.V. and I know that they had you all wrong. I read about what happened during the war and with Hydra, and I know that you didn’t do all those things that they said you did. That was the Winter Soldier, not Bucky Barnes.” You raised your eyes to meet his after the last bit to find his, starting to brim with tears.

You lifted his metal hand so that he could cup your cheek, but when the cool metal touched your flushed cheek, he flinched, pulling his hand away and to his chest. “You’re not going to hurt me, Buck.” You said gently.

He shook his head. “You don’t know that.” Not everything in his head was back to where it was before,  and while The Winter Soldier hadn’t surfaced in quite a while, he wouldn’t be able to forgive himself if something happened to you because someone managed to get their hands on the damn sequence of words that would throw everything back to shit.

You decided not to push him - his expression was too dark and held too much for you to deconstruct in an instant. Instead, you just scooted closer to him, nuzzling into his side and under his metal arm. The two of you sat in silence for a good while, the air of the room still heavy from the exchange.

“I trust you, Bucky. I know you don’t, but I do.” Your small whisper broke the silence, and the confession made his heart pound in his throat.

~

The two of you went on one more date before you made it official - which entailed meeting the rest of the Avengers. Much to Bucky’s relief, they accepted you immediately. Steve took the longest to come around, concerned about about his best friend, but even he was able to see how happy you made Bucky, and you became great friends with him as well.

After a year and a half together, the Avengers decided to move upstate, and that brought its own set of challenges. You stayed in your little apartment in the city, but after about a month of late night phone calls and making the trek to the compound on the weekends, Bucky told you about a traditional style house not far from the compound. It wasn’t two weeks later before the house was purchased and you were making arrangements to rent a U-Haul truck.

“Is that the last one?” You asked as Bucky walked through the front door of the house carrying a cardboard box. When he nodded and set the box down with the several others in the otherwise empty living room, you threw your arms up excitedly. “James Buchanan Barnes, we’re officially homeowners!”

He took the few steps over to you and picked you up, spinning you around in circles while you wrapped your legs around his waist. He came to a stop and you cupped his face in your hands, staring into his eyes with a giddy grin and flushed cheeks. He pressed forward the short distance to kiss you deeply, feeling lightheaded with happiness.

When he set you down, you gave him one more peck on the cheek before walking the short distance to the well-worn sofa and collapsing onto it. It was the only piece of furniture that had been moved into the living room, the rest would be delivered within the week “You okay, sweetheart?” He asked with a laugh after watching you fall seemingly bonelessly into the soft cushions, and you let out a groan.

“My body hurts and there’s still so much to do.” You whine.

Looking at you with a fond smile, he shook his head. “I have a plan.” He pulled you to your feet and wrapped you in his arms. “How about we start officially unpacking tomorrow, but for now you take a long, hot shower upstairs? By the time you come back down, i’ll have ordered takeout.”

“If I find where I put my laptop, can we watch Friends too?”

“Whatever you want, doll.” He said with a smile, and you let out a happy hum against his chest.

As you made your way upstairs to the master bathroom, Bucky made the call to your favorite takeout place for delivery and sat down on the couch, resting his elbows on his knees. He let out a long exhale as he heard the shower turn on from upstairs, and reached into the pocket of his jeans to retrieve a small weight that was resting there.

His fingers wrapped around the small black box and pulled it out of his pocket, holding it between his digits absentmindedly. With one more sigh, he leaned back and popped it open, revealing the simple diamond ring that was nestled inside. He had bought it weeks ago, before he had to leave New York City, thinking that he would find the perfect moment and be able to drop to a knee and ask you to be his forever.

But the moment never came.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to ask you, because he did more than anything. It’s just that he could never find the time that felt perfectly right. You deserved the biggest, most romantic moment that the universe had to offer, and anything else felt inadequate.

He wanted to just get down on a knee and go for it, but whole universal timing aside, what would he even say? If he couldn’t have the right moment thanks to karma or whatever, he could possibly make a big romantic speech to make up for it, but that’s a lot of pressure for a moment in time unless he were to write it down, but a notecard would definitely kill the mood.

Bucky was jolted out of his reverie by the knock on the door, and he pocketed the ring once more so that he could pay the delivery man at the door.

He quickly set the paper food containers out on the kitchen counter before returning to the living room and pacing back and forth across the carpet. He ran his hands through his hair as he thought hard, brow furrowed in concentration as the box sat suddenly heavy in his pocket.

“Babe, is everything ok?” Bucky heard you say, and he turned to see you, standing at the foot of the stairs. You were wearing what you referred to as your “comfies,” which consisted of an old shirt and sleeping shorts, and your still-damp hair was mussed playfully. Your face was cleansed of all makeup and you looked refreshed and absolutely radiant. “You look like you’re going to wear through the carpet.” You told him with a fond sparkle in your eyes.

Fuck it, Bucky thought.

He dropped to a knee right there in the middle of the living room, taking the ring box out of his pocket and opening it. He held his breath and locked his gaze onto yours, waiting for a response.

“Bucky…” You said slowly, frozen to the spot and seemingly lost for words. He could tell that by the way you blushed pink and your lips turned up into the faintest smile that your shock was positive.

“C’mere, doll. I’ve got something I wanna say to you.” He beckoned softly, and you nodded, stepping forward so that he was on his knee directly in front of you. He reached up to take your hand in the one that wasn’t holding the ring.

“I’m not good with words. Or emotions, really. But I’m good with you, Y/N. You’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever met, and from the moment I met you at that market, I’ve been able to feel things and see a future for myself that I haven’t been able to feel or see since before I was iced. You’re everything that I’ve ever wanted.”

Tears were welling up in your eyes as you grinned, and you squeezed his hand. He took it as a sign to continue.

“I’ve had this ring for weeks, but I’ve been waiting for the universe to grant me some kind of perfect moment, and it’s taken me this long to realize that any moment with you is a perfect one. And I know that we’re surrounded by boxes right now, and that this might not be the romantic proposal that you dreamed of as a little girl, but I’m planning on spending the rest of my life making it up to you. Y/N, will you make me the happiest man in the world and marry me?”

Tears were freely falling down your cheeks as you breathed a “yes, oh my God,” and Bucky slid the ring onto your finger. You immediately fell to your knees on the ground so that you could embrace him, making him lose his balance and topple onto the ground underneath you with a laugh. He kissed you deeply, cupping your face in his hands and wiping the tears from your cheeks with his thumbs.

Before too long, the two of you were sitting against the couch, watching Netflix on your laptop and eating takeout with plastic forks and drinking champagne that Steve bought Bucky from the bottle (”For whenever you get around to it, Pal.” He had said).

Tomorrow, the two of you would break the news to the rest of the team and officially start unpacking things into your new place, but at that moment, there was a still feeling of relaxation that he savored. He hadn’t felt so happy with things to come in a long time.

Bucky couldn’t wait to start the rest of his life with you. 

tags:  @howlingbarnes  @rotisserierogers @maybe-mikala @savage-stilinski

[a/n: i’ve literally been working on this for months and it’s cathartic to finally post it!! I feel like I may have been in too much of a rush to get this finished up, but I have been staring at this for a long time so I honestly don’t even know. 

any feedback would be super super appreciated as always!! let me know what you think!! i’ll be checking my inbox, my messages, and reblogs, so let me know!! :-) ]

[imaginetonyandbucky]

Careful what you wish for

Prompt: Imagine Tony and bucky not getting along which results in them getting into a prank war. The other avengers complain so naturally they team up together to get everyone else and it is the best thing. I mean the worst thing for everyone else, but still the best thing.

Steve knew the atmosphere in the Tower would be tense. The so called superhero civil war left them in a certain state of disarray for the longest time, but three Earth-threatning incidents later, the team was back together trying to overcome the past in order to face the future. And for the most part, it’s been working. If he was concerned about anything in particular, it was Bucky and most importantly how Tony would take his now quite permanent presence.

However much they had worked through the programming, Bucky still behaved like the Winter Soldier at times and some of the Avengers were less than impressed by the fact. Especially Natasha, who would whip out a knife out of nowhere whenever she spotted his behavior shifting towards the darker side.

To Steve’s outmost surprise, Tony didn’t overreact. In fact, he just didn’t react at all at first. With a nonchalant shrug he one day presented Bucky with a new arm, said something along the lines of “We’re cool, it was HYDRA” but then proceeded to ignore Bucky at every opportunity. And when their paths inevitably crossed, sparks started flying - and not the good kind of sparks.

No actual fight happened…yet, but Steve fears the day when one takes an argument just a bit too far and the other starts throwing furniture – or worse, weapons – instead of swear words. The situation just couldn’t get any worse.

Or so he thought.

Because then one morning, few weeks after they all moved in, Bucky shuffled to the toaster to prepare his usual breakfast – he put two slices of bread in and waited for the standard one minute and a half that it took to get the perfect golden sear, looming very Winter Soldier-y over the machine. The toasts popped out after said time, but instead of two perfectly crunchy and yummy toasts, two pieces of black and smoking charcoals jumped out instead.

“Must have put them in for longer, Bucks,” Steve told him, making excuses for the small device even if he knew it was precisely one and a half minute. Bucky counted every second, of that he was sure. But seeing his best friend glare at the poor toaster so fiercely he feared the machine would explode any minute, he just quickly took the ruined bread out and put a new pair in.

Exactly one and a half minute later, history repeated itself and the two slices of bread popped out blacker than the night, the awful smell of burnt pastry now spreading across the common floor’s kitchen.

“Let’s uh…try a shorter time then,” he offered, still trying to save the situation but when even after mere fifteen seconds all the toasts ended up cremated, Steve gave up.

Bucky’s glare intensified with every failed attempt at saving his meal, he even let out a low growl and that’s how Steve knew the machine’s days are numbered.

“It’s probably just…malfunctioning,” Tony said, appearing in the doorway, cringing at the smell. There was something odd about the way he said that, but Steve couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

Bucky was a different story though. His glare zeroed in on the grinning engineer, the murderous intent quite evident. Before Steve could intervene and stop what he believed would be one angry Winter Soldier jumping one still brightly smiling Iron Man and murdering him right there and then, Bucky grabbed onto the toaster and crushed it to bits in his metal arm, eyes never leaving Tony.

Said engineer’s grin twisted into something Steve didn’t really understand, but as Bucky walked around Tony to leave the premises – bits of the destroyed toaster littering the floor as he went – a dangerous glint appeared in his eyes. A challenge. One that mirrored itself in the retreating assassin’s eyes.

Little did Steve know at the time, that what he witnessed was the beginning of a war.

 The next time Tony emerged from his workshop after a week-long inventing and scheming binge, he barely even greeted Clint and Natasha sitting at the kitchen bar and went straight for the coffee maker. He wasn’t about to let the Winter Menace gain on him in the ongoing war score by foolishly thinking his most prized kitchen device remained untainted by the vengeance thirsty assassin, so he inspected it very carefully before deeming it safe and switching it on.

He smirked triumphantly, when the coffee maker did what was expected – brewed coffee – without any strange occurrence. Clint and Natasha exchanged a questioning look and continued watching him as he victoriously hoisted the finished product, poured himself a healthy large cup of it and joined them at the bar.

“Looks like I’ve overestimated the double ass-in,” he muttered into the cup, somewhat disappointed.

Disappointment turned to horror the moment he took a big gulp of the black liquid – it was coffee, only it’s been apparently mixed with balsamic vinegar. He spat the entire mouthful out, right onto his two very unamused companions.

“You wanna die, Stark?!” Natasha blurted out at him in Russian and he only understood it because that’s what he translated it as after the Winter Wonder growled the same sentence at him two days ago, when he slipped into his military grade boots during a routine assemble, only to find them full of egg yolks. Tony’s glee was short-lived even then, because when he put the helmet on to cover his smirk, he found it filled with lube.

He still didn’t want to speculate on when and how did the Winter Soldier acquire it, because just imagining him waltzing into Wallmart and casually buying a bottle of lube and some pretzels sent his brain on a whole different adventure, one hardly compatible with his battleplan.

Nevertheless, nobody gets away with tainting his sacred coffee! So he sneaked around Natasha and the slightly stunned bird-man and headed straight to the workshop.

It was time to up the game!

 Bucky no longer remembered who started it, let alone why this prank war between him and Stark commenced – other than the fact they were kinda in each other’s hair for quite some time after he moved in, but he would be lying his teeth off if he were to say he didn’t start enjoying this somewhere along the way. The Winter Soldier part of him in fact relished in the schemes and was equally impressed by his pranks as well as Stark’s. So instead of pointlessly wandering around the Tower – which is basically all he had done before the prank war has been declared – trying to figure out what he’s supposed to do with his newly found life, he would now spend his days devising devious pranks, setting them up and then evading, or failing to evade Stark’s own.

And it was glorious.

What he was not sure about is if Stark was enjoying this because he still fiercely hated him for what Bucky’s done and for who he was – or – if he was having just as much mischievous fun as him now.

Considering the pranks gradually turned jovial – even flirtatious if Bucky dared say – as opposed to the initial malicious ones, he would like to believe it was a combination of both…leaning toward the second. Hopefully. Maybe.

The real problem wasn’t even Stark. But the other Avengers, unwittingly ending up in the middle of the warzone majority of the times, were beginning to grow tired of the conflict. And their cup of patience was bound to spill over.

He was sitting with Steve, Sam and Natasha in the kitchen – a hot spot for pranking activities, so most avoided it now – when Stark walked in, immediately alerting to Bucky’s presence.

“Please tell me the kitchen’s safe today, man!” Sam pleaded, squinting between him and Stark.

Neither answered, Bucky just shrugged with an innocent ‘You’ll never know’ expression while Tony cautiously made his way to the counter, longingly staring at the coffeemaker.

Since the vinegar incident, Bucky made sure to not temper with it anymore. Of course on purpose. Because if Stark spent the past few days thinking it’s safe to operate, then…

Stark made the same assumption as yesterday and clicked the on button without second-guessing the decision. In an instant, the coffeemaker was showering coffee onto everyone in the vicinity – including him.

“Oh for fuck’s sake, dude!” Sam cursed, ducking underneath the table.

“Seriously, Bucks?” Steve whined, not even bothering to hide from the onslaught of the still warm beverage.

Natasha somehow managed to avoid the carnage by teleporting around the doorway, from where she decided to glare at Bucky.

“You do realize, Barnes, that you just got caught in your own set-up?” Stark asked, slowly turning to face the table. He was completely drenched in coffee, but despite his state of undoing he looked as collected as ever.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Stark,” Bucky replied, face falling emotionless.

Stark’s mouth twitched for a second there, but he didn’t break the cold stare. “What I’m talking about is that you are losing a point for this. Sure, you got me, but you got yourself too! Counts as friendly fire in my books.”

“You’re keeping a score?!” Sam all but yelled from under the table.

“FRIDAY is. I’m winning, right?” Tony asked, smiling brightly as if streams of coffee weren’t going down his face.

“Not exactly, boss,” the AI answered carefully.

“Right, I almost forgot!” Stark clasped his hands together and his stare turned into a neutral expression Bucky has learnt to understand as ‘danger ahead’. “You might wanna leave the room now. Gotta clean this mess.”

He wanted Bucky to leave the room, specifically. That much Bucky figured from his daring look. Was there something waiting for him in the common room? Pie to the face? Maybe some beads to slip on and fall? Deciding to humor the engineer, he got up…or tried to get up. “What the…,” he blurted out, looking over his shoulder to see that the chair was very much stuck to his butt.

“Now you’re winning,” FRIDAY announced after that, clearly counting the extra point for Stark as decisive.

“Yesss,” Stark hopped into the air, flashing up a victorious sign for good measure, not caring one bit for the coffeemaker that was still on rampage behind him. “You uh…seem a bit…stuck in there, Winter Blunder,” he pointed at the chair, not giving way to Bucky’s attempts at unsticking it.

Bucky sent the clearly amused man the deadliest of looks, noticing how Steve tensed up and Natasha procured not one, but two knives.

If Stark wanted to play dirty, he could indulge the man no problem. He was Bucky Winter god damn Soldier Barnes. So he broke his cold stare into a grin that maintained its dangerousness and did what one had to do in his precarious situation.

Unbuckled his belt and undressed from his jeans.

That sure dealt with the chair issue. And effectively wiped that victorious smirk off of Stark’s face. Good thing he wore the ‘Fuck…’ ‘…off’ boxers today – finally an opportunity to wiggle those at the right target presented itself.

“Just letting you know, boss, that I am adding a point to his score for this,” FRIDAY surprisingly took his side, even sounding amused.

“Okay, enough is enough!” Steve smashed a hand against the table and nearly broke it in half, scaring Sam shitless. “You, you,” he pointed at him and Stark separately, then turned to Natasha, “all of you in the common room, now! Call everybody in there, FRIDAY!” he commanded and stormed to the entrance. “Oh and if the two of you have something, anything to confess before we step into the room now’s the time. Because I swear to god if someone trips on more wires or gets superglue and confetti to the face, again, I will seriously hurt somebody,” he warned, face dead serious.

That was one pissed-off Steve Rogers, if Bucky had ever seen one.

Stark cleared his throat, side-stepping around him. “You might not want to sit on the sofa then,” he actually confessed.

With a sigh, Bucky added onto the disclosure. “And avoid the glass doors to the terrace.”

“And…don’t step on the carpet. Don’t even ask,” Stark adds when Bucky frowned at him.

“Riiiight,” Steve took a deep breath. “Is there any room in the Tower other than our private ones that are a hundred percent safe?” he asked patiently.

Bucky exchanged a questioning look with Stark and answered in sync with him. “No.”

“Nope. Well…the roof, maybe?” Stark suggested.

“No.”

“Oh…the workshop then.”

“Definitely not,” Bucky shakes his head.

“You don’t have access in there!”

“Had to get creative,” he explained with a shrug. “The gym looked safe last night.”

“Yeah…so did the coffeemaker,” Stark argued with a suggestive smirk.

“I see. That’s a no to room safety then, Stevie,” Bucky summed it up to one furious looking Captain America.

The Avengers poured into the common room and per Steve’s further directions remained standing in front of the elevator, because everywhere else was a minefield. His words, not Bucky’s.

“Why are you all wet?” Bruce frowned, looking disturbed.

“Forget that but why are you not wearing any pants, dude?” Peter asked with an unreadable expression, pointing out Bucky’s state of undress.

“And why are your butt cheeks telling me to fuck off?” Clint added, covering his eyes with a cringe.

“Long story,” Bucky retorted simply.

“This,” Steve began once he had everyone’s undivided attention, “whatever this is,” he flailed his hand at the two of them, “gotta end. Now.”

“What do you mean?” Stark squinted at the Captain. “There’s no this or that. Nothing to end here,” he motions between himself and Bucky.

“He means the prank war, you assholes!” Rhodey explains for the Captain, looking accusingly at his best friend. “You know, the one that started couple of weeks ago and is annoying the hell out of everyone in the Tower?!”

Stark fakes the most offended expression ever. “I would never! Me and pranks? No! How dare you…you traitor,” he mouths at the Patriot.

“He’s right. It was amusing at first I have to admit,” Wanda chuckled at Stark, “especially when you fell asleep in the kitchen and woke up with kiddie stickers of Captain America plastered all over you…but it is getting ridiculous now. We are caught in the crossfire all the time. You want to fight then fight, but leave us out of it!”

“Nobody is fighting anyone…please,” Steve came in after the Avengers erupted in agreeing rumble. “I mean it. This war is over, you two. If you can’t get along and can’t work together then…then don’t. I get it. You don’t like each other, point taken! I hoped…I wished that you would and it’s really sad that you can’t but if that’s how it is then I can’t do anything about it now, can I? Just…keep out of each other’s way, ignore each other, whatever works for you! Just stop this madness…,” he trailed out with a sad sigh and turned to leave.

The Avengers all nodded and hummed in agreement, sending them dirty looks while following Steve out of the common room, leaving the two stunned pranksters alone.

“Woooow,” Stark groaned, throwing his head back. “Just when I thought I’ve had enough of Disappointed Steve to last me a lifetime.”

Bucky sighed, silently agreeing. Did they take it too far? It was just a bit of harmless fun…right? They didn’t mean for the Avengers to be the collateral damage in most of the pranks but what’s the harm in some splashed coffee? Can’t the Avengers take a joke?

“They really can’t take a joke, can they?” Stark unknowingly voiced Bucky’s inner thoughts and at the same time confirmed something for Bucky.

So it was all fun and jokes. Not an ‘I hate you, but I can’t straight up murder you so I’m gonna prank you’ war. Not anymore at least. It was just for good fun now and it was really good, too. They were really good at this and that’s what made it so enjoyable.

That’s where Bucky realized that Steve was wrong. It’s not that they disliked each other…not anymore. It’s because they found out they actually like each other, with every new elaborate prank. So it dawned on him right there, that they can absolutely fulfill Steve’s wish.

“Hey Stark,” he began, staring at the flustered engineer. “You realize he just wants us to work together, right?”

“Yeah, well. Too bad! He’s a spoilsport! Him and this whole bunch so Capsicle can take his wish and stick it right up his spangled ass!”

“No…what I mean is…he told us to stop this,” he gestures between them, “prank war thing. He told us to stop this and ignore each other if we can’t work together,” he grinned.

Stark alerted to his suggestive tone and squinted at him. “So?”

“So, Mr. Genius, if Captain America wants us to work together then hell. We can work together…right? If they acted like this with just the two of us throwing pranks at each other…imagine the nightmare we can come up with for them if we do work together. As per Captain’s wish,” he slowly spelled it out for the frowning man, until his confused expression melted into a matching mischievous grin.  

“I see…yeah! Hell yeah, those little uptight bastards…,” he muttered, clearing his throat and looking straight up at Bucky. “Well then Mister Barnes, looks like we are burying the hatchet for the greater good that is mutual teamwork. My genius and your efficiency put together, the Captain is going to wish he had never wished for what he wished for!”

“Serves him right. And it’s Bucky,” he grinned wider, offering his flash hand to the man.

He shook it despite Bucky fearing he might not. “Tony. Now, let’s destroy those killjoys!”

“Yeah…but first, tell me what you did to that carpet,” he demanded, looking suspiciously at the white fluffy carpet in front of the television he preferred to sit on.

“You tell me how and what you rigged my workshop with and we’ve got a deal.”

“Deal.”

 Steve knew the atmosphere in the Tower would be tense. The so called supersoldier vs. supergenius prank war left the team wondering if now that it’s over they can freely roam the Tower again and hopefully not witness any more disputes between Bucky and Tony. After his intervention he feared their relationship or lack thereof would in fact escalate for the worse.

And oh, he had no idea just how worse it would be.

Just few days later, after everything seemed to have gone back to normal and it was indeed safe to move around and interact with objects inside public rooms again, Steve had learnt the meaning of the phrase ‘be careful what you wish for’. Because if he thought Bucky and Tony not getting along and fighting was his biggest nightmare, they went the extra mile to prove to him that them working together, as he wished, was actually even worse!

Nowhere was safe anymore. Nothing they touched was safe anymore. Their sanity was not safe anymore.

Clint couldn’t even think about slithering through the vents as usual because every day, there was something new waiting to get him in there. Like mouse traps, glue or milk or fifty gallons of lube just sloshing in there…and Steve really didn’t want to think about where they got fifty gallons of lube from. The internet no doubt.

Natasha found her entire wardrobe full of formerly black ninja clothes was filled with pink ones. Pink. Natasha’s! Pink spandex, pink lacey dresses, pink hair ribbons, pink high-heels, pink underwear. She was ready to murder the perpetrators instantly, but found her entire stash of murder knives turned into pink plastic ones, with Hello Kitty stickers on them.

Vision couldn’t move through walls anymore, because the spaces in between were, according to his words, littered with disturbing erotica posters. Wanda couldn’t even round a corner without some ridiculous Halloween decoration jumping out at her, making her shriek in fright every time. Peter’s webbing was now regularly changing color, consistency and even smell. Sam couldn’t go for his morning runs because his running shoes were either filled with something or they mysteriously turned into high-heels, no matter where he hid them.

Bruce thought he’d be safe, but no. His clothes just disappeared. All of them. All he was left with were dozens of pairs of Hulk-themed underwear. Tight underwear. He tried buying new clothes, but they would disappear too. And eventually all the nearby storeowners would just present him with Hulk-themed kid clothing, just for him.

Rhodey appeared once in the common kitchen, looking blue – actually blue, like his skin was this bright shade of blue – and he just straight up left the Tower. Receiving further reports of him going all kinds of colors and even him with a long blonde hair, leaving clearly didn’t work out for him very much.

Thor…where to even begin with Thor. Who now had short spiky hair and was clean-shaved. And his hammer…oh Mjolnir got some major face-lift. Tony’s words of course, claiming that lift is not worthy of lifting the hammer but his lift is worthy of lifting the hammer’s spirits. It was red and gold now. Which would match Thor’s robes somewhat, if those didn’t mysteriously turn into Loki’s.  

And Steve was naturally the pair’s most favorite target, for they never once failed to color all three orange juices in his fridge red, white and blue – so he could have a true, patriotic breakfast every morning, according to Bucky. Speaking of red, white and blue that’s what his room was decorated in, from the walls down to the carpet, the bed and the furniture, the entire bathroom, too! His clothes, his wallet, his hair, his gym, his favorite French croissants – all red, white and blue…and the national anthem was set on his alarm now and it played whenever he entered the common floor. During training, it would instead play ‘’Murica! Fuck yeah!’.

All in all, it took just one week for Steve to wave the white flag of surrender, apologize to team WinterIron – which is what they called themselves now – and yield to their prank mastery. He even told them he was impressed and really happy that they get along…if only they could now show their newly found friendship and teamwork to…their enemies instead maybe?  

Which resulted in HYDRA and Nick Fury both getting pranked at every opportunity instead of the Avengers. And if Steve began to think his two friends now get along a little more than just friends, he didn’t comment on it.

As if he or anyone else dared to, after all this.

- Lantia