#grease theme

[callalillywrites]

A  Dream on a Mean Machine 1

I'm going to start by saying I wasn't expecting this to be such a beast of a first part. That said, I'm not unhappy with the results. I definitely tried to create more tension between the two of them compared to the fluffier stuff I normally write.

Bucky is really such a sweetheart while Steve is a pure menace in this.

Welcome to the first part of my Cool Rider Barber Shop and Hair Salon series.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Other Characters: Reader's brother, Steve Rogers

Word Count: ~7100

Summary: Bucky's going on his first date since getting free from Hydra. In order to look his best, Steve drags him to the Cool Rider Barber Shop and Hair Salon for a haircut and a shave. There, Bucky meets the famous, Stephanie Zinone (Reader's codename), who owns the place and does his hair.

Warnings: insecurities, mentions of violence (nothing too graphic), some language, Steve being a menace, anything I forgot let me know

A/N: I wrote this beast of a story in a few hours. While I did go through and proofread, any mistakes are mine and mine alone. Yes, Reader has a codename (used all of like 4 times), but she's still a reader who may or may not share some personality traits of the character she's chosen for said codename. She's still a blank slate to fill in as you desire.

I do not give permission for my work to be copied or posted on other sites or fed into an AI machine.

“Hey, Stef, you going to be okay?” your brother asked from the back doorway.

You looked up from where you’d been giving your workstation another spot clean. Nothing could be less than perfect for this next client. Not with the obscene amount of money being paid to rent out your entire salon for this new VIP.

“I’ll be fine, Davey. Take the others out to a nice lunch. I should be done here in a couple of hours.”

Your brother hesitated another moment before he finally nodded. His footsteps retreated until you could no longer make them out.

A glance at the clock on the far wall warned you your client should be there any moment.

When you’d spoken to both Pepper Potts and Tony Stark about renting out your salon, they never once mentioned who the client would be. If you had to guess, it had to be an Avenger. A simple agent wouldn’t warrant this level of privacy.

Then again, none of the other Avengers who’ve quickly become loyal clients of your salon never really bothered with having the place vacated for them, either. Sure, they picked the slowest times to schedule their appointments to keep their celebrity down, but that was about the extent of it.

You had to smile at the thought of a new Avenger joining the growing list you already had as clients. If they weren’t yours directly, they came in and worked with one of your fabulously talented employees. The fact that your talented staff came in such high demand had you ready to do a little victory dance where you stood.

It was really a dream come true how far your barber shop and salon had come in the years since you first took over.

All that was missing was someone to share your success with. Someone to call yours and you theirs.

Before you could get too far down that thought trail, a knock came at the front door.

You locked it earlier to keep any would-be walk-ins from trying their luck. Not that your place allowed walk-ins with the clientele you’ve built the last few years.

Going to the door, you smiled upon seeing the golden god of a man known as Steve Rogers.

With a twist of your wrist, the lock released. You pushed the door open and said, “Well, long time, no see, Goldie.”

“Goldie? That’s a new one, Steffy.” Steve chuckled. His eyes always sparkled with a bit of mischief every time he came around. This time was no exception.

Your smile widened. “Well, your hair’s gotten too dark for me to call you Blondie or Honey. So, it’s Goldie now. You my special client? Surprised you want the whole place to yourself. Something I should know about?”

“No, no,” Steve quickly assured before his head shifted to his right. “It’s not for me. It’s for…”

Your gaze followed the direction of Steve’s until it collided with the solidly built man leaning sullenly nearby. At least you thought he appeared sullen until you noted how his gaze never settled in one place for too long. His alertness had gone into overdrive.

A soft exhale was wrenched from you when his gaze landed on you.

Oh.

You’d recognize this man anywhere.

James “Bucky” Barnes, WWII vet and former Winter Soldier turned Avenger.

More importantly, your grandpa’s biggest hero.

Far greater than the blonde standing in front of you.  

How did none of his photos, past and present, do him any justice? It wasn’t fair how handsome this man was as you took in his features without trying to appear too creepy about it. Those steel-blue eyes damn near hypnotized you without trying. They reminded you of a clear Nevada sky. Then, there was his long, dark hair that called out to you and your fingers. It dared you to see if the strands were as silky as you hoped they’d be.

“Buck’s got a date tonight,” Steve said, breaking the silence. “Think you can work your magic for him?”

Well, that news sent a bucket of ice water down your back. It took everything in you not to shiver at the chill and give away your thoughts to these two men.

Instead, you made sure to keep your smile on your face as you nodded. “You doubting my skills, Rogers? Don’t make me buzz that glorious hair. You know I’ll do it.”

Steve’s hands came up in surrender. He quickly stepped into the shop and took a seat in the small waiting area.

You had to bite back a laugh at the way his features shifted from horror to pleading. The poor guy really could look like a kicked puppy when he wanted to. Simply wasn’t fair he could use that face and get away with anything, but then, it was one of the reasons you two had become friends. You really couldn’t resist his sweet face.

It was that sweet face that made you even more determined to find him someone, too.

If anyone deserved all the love they could get, it was Steve Rogers. You weren’t put off, either, after learning that the famous Black Widow was also on the same trail for him. Between the two of you, you were going to get Steve his happily ever after.

“Alright, Goldie, sit there and behave. No more quips about my skills, or you’re next.”

Satisfied Steve would listen, you turned your attention to the man who’d crept in behind you. His quiet steps nearly unnerved you. He really had no right to have all that muscle and build and be so quiet with it.

You gently introduced yourself to him, extending your hand.

His brows drew together as he blurted, “Thought your name was Steffy. Isn’t that what Steve just called you?”

“Codename. We all have them here. Can’t be too careful nowadays. Only a select few know our real names, and that includes you now.” You dropped your hand since he hadn’t tried to take it. Instead, you gestured toward the chairs. “Shall we? You have your pick: T-Bird or Pink Lady.”

The clueless expression on his face had you biting back another smile.

“Ah, another newbie to the musical greatness that is Grease and Grease 2. Come, I’ll educate you while we get you set up.”

You moved around him and stepped further into the salon where he could see the alternating chairs in black and pink design. On the back of the black chairs was the trademark logo of the T-Birds. The pink chairs bore the Pink Ladies trademarks. It was well worth the expense of having.

Nodding toward the different chairs, you continued toward the closet where you kept all your capes and other necessary items.

“Feel free to drape your jacket on one of the other chairs. It’ll be easier to cut your hair without the collar getting in the way.”

You didn’t stop as you spoke, or you would’ve seen the way Bucky froze at your words. The idea of taking off his jacket hadn’t crossed his mind and had him threatening to spiral a bit. While he’d worn a long henley in deep blue, he still wouldn’t be able to really hide his left arm from you. For some reason, he really wanted to hide it from you.

He couldn’t help thinking about how beautiful you were. How confident, too, in your space.

As he took in the shop’s décor, he could almost feel like he was back home in the forties. Sure, there were aspects that didn’t fit, but it had a welcoming aesthetic that called to those old memories.

Soft music played in the background, which you’d turned on near the back wall. While he didn’t know the song, he liked how it reminded him of simpler times. His memories might still be jumbled from all his years under Hydra’s control, but he could pick out pieces here and there.

It took him another moment and a deep breath to remove his jacket.

He set it on one of the T-Bird chairs while he settled into one of the Pink Lady chairs. They didn’t remind him of that awful chair Hydra used to strap him in. The soft leather even felt nice under his hand as he tried not to grip it too tight to leave impressions of his fingers.

“Hey, you okay?” You asked, coming to stand in front of him. A frown had replaced your bright smile, and Bucky already wanted to find some way to bring it back. “We have all the time you need. We go at your pace. Promise.”

As if to solidify your words, you brought up your hand again. This time, you extended your pinky and waited for him to make his move.

You couldn’t quite hide your surprise or your pleased grin when he finally brought his pinky up and looped it with yours.

“Alright, now that’s settled.”

Showing him the cape, you waited for his nod before placing it around him and cinching it loosely at his neck.

“Not too tight?”

He shook his head.

“Perfect.”

You spun the chair until he faced the mirror. It’s not lost on you when he grimaced at his reflection, but you wisely kept your mouth shut for the time being.

“I’m going to touch your hair now, okay? I want to get a feel for its thickness and texture. Stop me if it gets too much.” You kept your voice soft as you spoke, not wanting to spook him.

As before, you waited until he nodded to proceed.

You graced him with another smile for being so cooperative. Your fingers started at the front and gently combed through the locks at his temples until you reached the tips. As you guessed, the strands had a decent thickness with a silkier texture than you first imagined. It wouldn’t have been hard to continue to just run your fingers through his hair. But you had a mission, and you weren’t going to let him down.

What would your grandpa say if you didn’t do your absolute best for Bucky Barnes?

Returning your attention to your job, you met his gaze in the mirror. “Have an idea of what you’d like done? A trim or something a bit more dramatic?”

His eyes clouded while his lips thinned.

You could feel his muscles tense despite her fingers still running through his hair. The tension radiating off him had you wanting to wrap him up in a tight embrace and comfort him. You could well imagine all this had to be overwhelming. That begged the question of why he was going on a date tonight. He didn’t even seem all that thrilled, but then, you didn’t know him well enough to know for sure.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. You don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to. With what Stark paid to rent out my place, I’m more than happy to just sit here with you and talk. Or not talk if that’s what you would prefer. You want me to simply wash your hair and style it, I can do that, too. Whatever you want. You have my word, Sergeant.”

His eyes widened while his entire body shifted from tense to shock.

“Yeah, I know who you are. James Buchanan Barnes. Sergeant from the 107th Infantry Division. WWII. POW. Veteran. The man who saved my grandfather at Kreischberg.” You gave him a warm smile, happy to find the tension slowly ebbing out of him.

Deciding it best to continue, you added, “You took his place when they were experimenting on Allied soldiers. Sick as you were, you still stood up for him. He died last year before he got the chance to know you still lived. He did get to see his second favorite hero though before he died.”

Before Bucky could ask, your gaze drifted over to where Steve sat in the waiting area.

“I know everyone adored Cap over there. My grandfather did, too, but he never failed to talk about you more. You certainly left a lasting impression on him. He even named my father after you and Cap. James Steven. A lot to live up to, but my dad was never one to back down from a challenge.”

When you said your grandfather’s name, Bucky’s eyes widened. He remembered that name. Your grandfather had been built a lot like Steve before the serum. It hadn’t been much of a stretch for Bucky to become protective. Your grandfather had been a fresh-faced eighteen-year-old, too, if his memory recalled correctly. How could he not do what he could, sick or not, to keep your grandfather safe from Hydra’s hands?

Another thought niggled its way to the front of his mind, pressing to ask, “Is Steve…”

“A good friend, yeah.”

Resuming your earlier ministrations, you decided to use this time to talk. You both had plenty of time to get to the actual haircut if Bucky changed his mind.

“We actually met during that alien invasion a couple years back. I wasn’t even sure it was him until his helmet thing came off, and I saw his face. He took a nasty hit from one of those Chitauri guys. Knocked him flat onto his hands and knees. Such a cheap, cowardly blow, too. Deserved what it got for doing that.”

“What did it get?”

Your gaze dropped to Bucky’s hair, intent on combing through the strands with your fingers. He’d begun to relax again, and you wanted as much time as you could just being allowed to touch him like this. You had a feeling that could so easily change if he let you get near with your scissors or shaver.

“My best pair of scissors lodged in its neck. Grandpa always loved that you were a sharpshooter. Taught me everything he knew. Competed for several years during my high school and university days. He was also the reason I got into dagger and axe tossing as well. I’m a pretty good shot. As Clint likes to brag, I can never seem to miss.”

“She’s not wrong,” Steve hollered from his seat in the waiting area. “She took that thing down with little effort and cursed it out for ruining her scissors. Never thought I’d hear a dame with a mouth like hers. I still maintain I had it handled.”

“Sure you did, Goldie,” you shouted back, doing your best not to laugh. You failed as your shoulders shook despite your best efforts. Dropping your voice to a whisper, you brought your head closer to his so you weren’t far from Bucky’s ear. “Wanna know the real reason why I call Steve those nicknames of mine?”

Bucky swallowed at your proximity. Everything in him screamed to have you come closer as you continued to soothe him in ways he hadn’t felt in so long. He really wanted you to keep playing with his hair.

When he nodded, you bit your lip before admitting, “He just reminds me of a golden retriever. In the best way though, so please know I mean no offense.”

“You’re serious?”

You nodded, then called out, “Hey, Steve, come here a sec, would ya?”

It didn’t take Steve two seconds to come bounding into the heart of the salon. When he stopped, he shifted from one foot to the other as though he couldn’t settle while awaiting whatever orders you had for him.

You had to bite your lip harder to keep your laughter at bay.

“Can you fetch me that folder from Goose’s station? I wanna let Bucky check out some of the newer styles. See if he likes any of them.”

It took everything in you not to burst out laughing at how quickly Steve followed your orders. He had the folder in hand within moments and erased the distance between you two. When he held it out to you, his head tilted to the side as if awaiting a treat or another command. You just knew he would be wagging his tail if he had one.

“Thanks, Goldie. I’ll let ya know if I need you again.”

Steve nodded, then retreated to the waiting area.

When he was out of sight, you returned your attention to Bucky with a ‘see what I mean’ look.

“That was so wrong,” Bucky said, but a chuckle escaped him. An honest-to-goodness laugh escaped. His eyes scrunched at the corners as he tried to hold back more laughter at his friend’s expense. “You have a mean streak, doll. I like it.”

So lost in the realization that you’d made Bucky laugh, you almost didn’t hear, let alone comprehend, the pet name he’d given you. When you did, you could feel the heat suffusing your cheeks in pleasure.

The folder turned out to be a good idea.

Bucky flipped through the various photos of different styles that had either gained popularity or regained it in the last two years. He finally landed on one that seemed to hold his interest the most.

The model had a shorter, more dramatic cut.

Bucky would be losing all but five-eighths on the sides. The top would keep some length though nothing compared to what he currently had. It’d be enough to keep hair pulling or tugging an option. You always liked guys who kept enough hair on top for gripping, but…

You shut down that thought train before it could get properly started.

He wasn’t cutting his hair for you. Not that you would ever ask him to with how pretty it looked with its current length.

Though, a girl could dream, couldn’t she?

As you continued to study the one he liked, you couldn’t help thinking how he wouldn’t be able to hide behind his hair with this style. His eyes would be allowed to pop, too, when he wore the right colors. This included the henley he was wearing.

Hell, he could probably wear almost anything, and he’d be devastating.

His date was one lucky lady.

Shoving your unprofessional thoughts aside, you picked up your shaver and showed it to him. “This okay? It’ll go quicker than me manhandling your hair with my fingers and scissors.”

“We had them back then, doll. Not as fancy as that one, but they did exist,” Bucky said.

If you knew him better, you would recognize the teasing in his voice as he met your gaze. He actually liked how much care you were taking with him, wanting him to have the best experience at your salon. It’d been a long time since someone had shown him any type of kindness.

When you didn’t move, he realized he didn’t exactly answer your question. He still couldn’t believe that you were holding to your promise not to rush him and check in with him. Not even the other Avengers had handled him with such care since bringing him onboard some months ago.

“Go for it.”

You smiled at him.

Oh, he was getting addicted to your smile. It just brightened the whole room and made him almost believe that he was worthy of it.

Lost in thought, he didn’t see you move behind him. That surprised him as he always kept his guard up, especially around new people. He’d long since learned he couldn’t trust others, not with what he’d done as one of Hydra’s assets. Danger always lurked in strangers’ motives.

Yet, he wanted to trust you.

Steve trusted you. So did the other Avengers.

“Such pretty hair,” he heard you murmur before your hand ran through his locks. He had a feeling he wasn’t supposed to hear that with how low you spoke, but the words continued to ring in his ears and through his mind. He hadn’t been associated with pretty in so long. Maybe never.

The shaver clicked on after another moment, taking the first of many paths across his head. His long locks fell to the ground around him until he had quite the pile surrounding him. Closing his eyes, he let the sound of the shaver and your soft humming lull him until he jerked back to reality when you clicked the shaver off some minutes later.

He couldn’t believe he’d actually nodded off.

That had never happened before.

When he glanced in the mirror, he stared in shock at how different he looked. You weren’t done by any means, but he didn’t look like he had minutes ago. He wasn’t even sure he recognized the guy staring back at him.

“Come on, stud,” you said, nodding toward the sinks. “Let’s wash your hair now, then I can finish up the rest of your new look.”

Again, he chose one of the Pink Lady chairs near the sinks. It took him a little bit to relax before resting his head in the cutout of the sink.

“Doing okay?”

He breathed in and out, then nodded.

You smiled at him. “Yeah, you are. I wish all my clients could be as great as you’re being. I’ll have to see if I can find you a treat when you’re done. I think Rizzo has some lollipops stashed at her station.”

“I don’t need a treat, doll. It’s fine.”

Bucky figured you dropped the argument when you didn’t counter his words. He couldn’t tell if he was more relieved or disappointed that you didn’t.

That thought soon disappeared though.

The water hit him at exactly the right temperature, dousing his head until his hair dripped.

Then, your hands performed their magic with the sweet-smelling shampoo your salon used. The way you massaged the shampoo into his scalp nearly had him moaning aloud. It just felt that good, and he hadn’t been prepared for it. Neither had his body with the way it reacted to your hands in his hair. He’d never been so grateful for the cape covering him.

You soon rinsed out the shampoo and followed it up with a conditioner that had the same sweet smell. Your hands repeated the same process as the shampoo, making his body even more aware of you and your closeness to him.

It really wouldn’t take much to grip your hips and tug you closer. The desire to do just that nearly overwhelmed him. To keep himself in check, his hands gripped the chair.

He could make out the floral notes of the perfume you used. It intoxicated him.

The sweet torment of your touch, smell, and proximity ended all too soon.

Water doused his head once more, removing all traces of the conditioner. It was soon replaced with a towel that quickly collected the stray water droplets that tried to break free and race down his neck as you helped him sit back up.

Before he knew it, you were leading him back to your workstation.

Taking his seat, you moved behind him again and lowered the chair for the first time. You even shook your head as you mumbled, “Tall guys. I just have to like tall guys.”

Bucky swallowed at that. Could you like him? Would that even be possible?

No, he had a date tonight. He shouldn’t be thinking about you like he had a chance when he should be concentrating on his date.

As if you had the same thought, you asked, “Tell me about your date tonight. What’s she like? Or he? They? I don’t want to assume.”

“She,” he said, a small grin at your need to correct yourself. You might have a mean teasing streak, but you weren’t unkind. “I, uh, don’t know much about her. Sam set it up for me.”

“So, it’s a friend of Wilson’s then? He didn’t give you any information on her?” You picked up your scissors and a comb before turning toward him. “I’m going to start in the back and work my way forward. Okay?”

He nodded.

After you got started, he recalled your questions. “She’s not a friend. Sam said I needed to date. Put me on some of those apps. Tinble or something like that.”

Your brows lifted as you bit your lip.

He caught it in the mirror as his eyes haven’t stopped watching you since you started working. It took everything in him to ignore the way your fingers danced through his shorter locks.

Just as it was taking you not to laugh at whatever he said that was so funny.

You soon enlightened him by asking, “You mean Tinder? There’s also Bumble. It’s newer. I can’t blame you for mixing them. There are so many out there nowadays. Makes my head spin with the many options.”

“Do you use them?”

You shook your head. “Nah. Too busy with my salon here. Besides, I know what I’m looking for, and I know I’m not going to find him on any dating app.”

“What are you looking for?”

When you smiled, it had a dreamy quality that had Bucky holding his breath. Oh, how he wished he could be exactly what you wished to have.

To his surprise, your smile turned cheeky when you said, “I’m looking for a dream on a mean machine.”

Whatever he’d been expecting, it hadn’t been that.

Steve’s loud laugh echoed through the shop, having heard her answer from the waiting area. The punk followed it by saying, “Thanks for that, Steffy. I got that reference.”

“You should, Goldie. It’s a requirement you know it if you’re wanting to be a client here at Cool Rider.”

Now, that had Bucky’s attention. Before he could stop himself, he blurted, “You have requirements for your clients?”

“Just the Avengers. Well, mainly Tony. Such an insufferable ass though he does have a few good points to redeem himself now and then.”

That didn’t answer his question at all, but you weren’t finished thankfully.

“After saving Steve that day, he was the first to stop by my salon. He really liked the aesthetics. Reminded him of the old days. While he didn’t know anything about Grease or the best musical ever, Grease 2, he kept coming back. Eventually, he brought some of the other Avengers with him.”

You snipped several small swathes of his hair before you continued.

“One of those times, Tony tagged along. That man, I swear, wouldn’t stop commenting on my Grease theme and décor. Then, he had the nerve to tell me he’d never seen either film. After all his badmouthing, I’d had it. Told him I refused to service him again until he watched the movies and could be quizzed on both.”

A small chuckle escaped.

“He had no idea I was mainly teasing him, but the threat worked. From what Steve told me, Tony made all of them have a movie night where they watched both musicals. He even came up with every possible question I could quiz them on and made them answer each question correctly. Never would’ve guessed I had that much power over a genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist. Did I get that right, Goldie?”

“Yeah, sounds about right,” Steve hollered back. “He’s been complaining about his hair getting too long, so I’d expect an appointment soon from him.”

“And why didn’t you tell me this earlier? You know we need all the warning we can get when it comes to Tony, Goldie. He always shuts down my place at the worst times. Doubling my rate. Tell him that, won’t you?”

Steve acknowledged he heard you.

Satisfied, your voice returned to normal as you shifted to Bucky’s left side.

He did his best not to tense at your proximity to his metal arm. If you hadn’t mentioned it, then he didn’t want to point it out. Maybe there was a chance you didn’t know he’d been used as a weapon for so long. Though, he had his doubts as you’d known everything else about him.

“So, where are you taking your date tonight?” you asked, changing the subject with a quickness that Bucky feared he wouldn’t ever be able to keep up with you.

How he wanted to do just that surprised him, too.

He finally named the restaurant. It was a fancy place that Tony had set up for him, which meant at least a nice suit and tie. Both of which, Bucky really couldn’t stand to wear.

Maybe he wouldn’t mind so much if his date was anything like you.

Stop it!

“I’ve heard some nice things about that place, but you really strike me more as a smaller, cozier type of restaurant guy. Any reason why you chose something so fancy?” You paused then as though the words you just spoke finally hit you and the implications you’d made with them. Horror entered your eyes as they met his in the mirror. “That was…so rude of me. I apologize. I shouldn’t have made assumptions like that.”

Bucky shook his head, letting his smile emerge albeit awkwardly. “It’s fine. I know you didn’t mean any offense. Tony made the reservation. Told me to wine and dine her with the best the city had to offer. But you are right about me.”

Relief washed through you. Your smile returned as you finally asked, “Name your favorite place then.”

There was no hesitation as he named a little Italian bistro near your salon and the Tower.

Your smile grew. “That’s one of my favorites, too.”

He bit his tongue before he could think about asking you to join him there sometime.

Silence fell between you for the next few minutes.

In that time, you finished clipping his hair down to the right length and adding some layer and texture to it. You moved from his left to his front and finished on his right. Your movements had been smoothly fluid. Almost like a dance you’d learned long ago.

He had to admit he was mesmerized watching you work so quickly and efficiently. Watching you move the way you did. You never seemed to second guess where you needed to cut or the way it would look once you did.

That was something he’d never really experienced outside of the jobs he’d been forced to do for Hydra. Get in, get out with the least amount of mess left behind. He’d been good at it. As sick as it was to admit, he knew it was the main reason the newly reformed SHIELD even allowed the Avengers to take him on. Fury wanted him for his expertise with quick, efficient asset recovery and cleanup. Extract and sanitize wrapped in nicer packaging all over again.

It wouldn’t do to dream of being anything more. To dream about being with someone like you. You deserved someone without half the baggage he came with. You deserved someone more like Steve if he was being honest.

He really needed to put you out of his mind before you nestled too deep. Before you could manage to sneak your way somewhere even more locked away than his head. A place like his heart.

Crazy. It was crazy.

The two of you had just met. He shouldn’t feel like this about you.

Yet, he couldn’t deny that he did. He really did. That scared him, too.

You would never be safe with him in your life. Compared to the other Avengers, he would always be a target, and anyone attached to him would have the same mark on them. It would only be a matter of time before you’d had enough of him and being in constant danger because of him.

No, it was better to make this the first and last time he ever saw you.

Even if it hurt him to never see you again.

Something dark had entered Bucky’s mind. You could sense it in the way he tensed his muscles before forcing them to release, only to repeat the cycle all over again.

You had to find some way to distract him.

Landing on his face, you noted the way his full beard didn’t really fit with his shorter hair. As much as you liked its fullness, you could see the potential of trimming it down close to his face. It might even lessen the strain you could make out around his mouth.

Okay, you really shouldn’t focus too much on his mouth. You really didn’t need to go down that road, or you might start thinking about what kissing him would be like.

Get it together, you silently admonished yourself.

Even still, you couldn’t stop yourself from running a finger along his bearded cheek, drawing his attention back to you.

“Your beard is beautiful, but a trim might be in order. What do you think?”

You mentally high-fived yourself for how normal you made yourself sound right then. Hopefully, you could keep it up until he finally left your salon, ready for his date that evening.

“I, uh, whatever you think is best,” he said, his voice deeper than it’d been before.

Could it be that you affected him as much as he did you? Oh, now that was a dangerous thought.

Bringing yourself back, you shook your head. “Against the rules, stud. It’s your decision whether the beard stays or goes, not mine. I will say that our beard trims and shaves come with a facial massage and skin treatment.”

He shifted in his seat.

You could make out his hands rubbing up and down his thighs. Even without the cape, you recalled the way his legs had filled out his tight jeans. The man had actual thighs of steel.

He finally nodded. “Okay.”

“Okay, what?” You couldn’t help prodding him a little. After all, you needed to hear the words. If this was going to be his show, then he needed to decide and say it clearly, so you understood. After all his years of having no control over his life, you wouldn’t take even a second more from him if you could help it.

“I think it’s time for a shave, too. Go big or go home, right?”

You smiled. “Right.”

Since your station didn’t normally carry any of the items you’d need, you headed over to Goose’s station and picked through what he had. Thankfully, you had understanding employees who didn’t mind sharing when something came up. Plus, Goose’s equipment surpassed those of Kenickie or DiMucci.

Not wanting him to get nervous while you set up, you decided to ask him another question. It was nice to hear how he opened up in a way you had a feeling he didn’t do all that much with others.

“Well, we’ve covered who your date is and where it’s taking place. How about what you’re driving to get yourself there? It’s safe to assume you’ll be wearing a nice suit, so…” You allowed your words to trail off in the hopes he’d picked up from there.

Bucky didn’t disappoint you, either.

“Well, I don’t have much besides my bike, but I could always take the bus or subway to get there.”

“He’s taking one of Tony’s lesser fancy cars,” Steve offered so helpfully, still eavesdropping with little to no shame. You could almost imagine he wore a shit-eating grin every time he jumped into the conversation to appear so helpful. “I think Tony mentioned one of his BMWs.”

“Of course, he did,” you mutter, shaking your head.

Tony Stark was nothing if not pretentious in the types of cars he liked to drive and be seen in. You couldn’t really see Bucky wanting to drive something like that, but then, you doubted he’d have much choice with the restaurant he was going to.

Deciding to keep that observation to yourself, you said instead, “Well, it’s nice to see Tony knows how to share.”

With everything in hand, you headed back to your station to drop them off, then went off to retrieve a hot towel.

“I’m going to cover your face for a few minutes,” you held the towel up for Bucky to see, “but I won’t be far.”

His grin appeared again. Almost cheeky in the way one side curved up as he said, “I’ll be fine, doll.”

Oh, you just knew he was aware of the effect he had on you. It simply wasn’t fair when you were certain you didn’t have the same power over him. The nerve of this man to call you ‘doll’. It was so wrong the power of the pet name had, going straight to the heart. A dangerous man indeed.

Shoving those thoughts aside with all the other inappropriate ones you had for this man, you covered his face, taking an extra moment or two to ensure the towel covered him. No folds were in sight. You spared another moment or two of massaging his face through the towel to ensure it sat properly.

Satisfied, you went to work on building up your favorite lather, also stolen from Goose’s stash. You preferred this gentle soap as it had little fragrance and tended not to irritate clients’ skin.

To your surprise, he broke the silence with a question. “What do you think of flowers?”

Your brows rose before they drew together, unsure what his question hinted at. There were so many different directions you could answer it, but you didn’t want to say the wrong thing and put him off. So, you did one of your worst pet peeves. You answered his question with a question. “What about them?”

“Guys still bring them for their dates these days?”

Oh.

How did that make him so much hotter?

You seriously needed to get a grip on yourself or risk falling hard for a man that would never be yours.

“Not so much, no,” you finally managed to say before quickly adding, “but I think they’ll be a nice, unexpected touch. Is that what you did before the war? Bring flowers to your girl?”

“Girls,” Steve offered up. “Buck was never without a girl on his arm. Sometimes, two if I was meeting up with him. Pity date and all that for the scrawny Brooklyn boy.”

“Steven Rogers, you are not a pity date for any woman. Now or back then. I’ve seen pictures of you, and there was nothing wrong with you. It was always their loss if they didn’t see the rare gem you were and still are.”

You lifted the towel off Bucky’s face and flashed him a smile. Your voice dropped low, so Steve wouldn’t overhear as you said, “Your past doesn’t define who you are, either. Sure, it’s a part of you, but so is the man you are now and the one you were before Hydra got their hands on you. You are worthy of every bit of love you can find in this world.”

Bucky’s Adam’s apple bobbed several times.

“I see it now.”

“What’s that?” Your brows drew together.

Bucky’s lips curved up at the corners. “Why Steve likes you so much. I get it now.”

You beamed at him. His praise meant far more than it should for such a short acquaintance. Yet, that didn’t stop you from having to blink back tears before they managed to run down and mess up what little makeup you’d put on that day.

“Alright, mister, let’s get you finished up for your big date. You’re going to knock her socks off if I have anything to do with it.” If your own socks were already knocked off, then that would be your secret and yours alone.

The first few strokes of the lather brush felt a bit awkward since it’d been a minute from the last time you shaved a client. It came back to you though and soon you had him covered with the first application. When you were satisfied, you rushed over to grab a second towel from the warming rack.

With the same care as you used before, you placed it over Bucky’s face, molding it to the lather. You shot him a small grin as you whispered, “Doing so good here, stud. Almost done.”

Goose’s everyday straight razor took a minute to sanitize and reset with a new blade. He preferred using single-use blades for their easier disposal over sanitizing and reusing a conventional straight razor. That wasn’t to say he didn’t have one, but no one, not even you as his friend and boss, were allowed to touch the reusable one or its strop. That was his and his alone. His most prized possession.

With the razor intact and ready to go, you turned back to find Bucky’s eyes on you. You did your best to hide the warmth his gaze caused, but you were almost certain you failed at this point.

To hide the way he affected your nerves, you quickly removed the first lather you applied and the towel covering it. You’d never been so satisfied than in that moment to see it all came off without missing a spot on his face or neck.

“Alright, stud, I’m going to need you to stay as still as you can for me. I’ll make this as quick and painless as possible. Really don’t want to nick your handsome face before your date tonight, okay?”

The small grin he shot you had you nearly dropping your lather cup. “I’ll do my best, doll.”

“It’s not nice to tease a lady with a razor, Sergeant.”

The nerve of this man, you couldn’t help thinking as he didn’t appear the least bit repentant.

Not to be outdone, you lathered him up again, making sure you covered every inch you needed before you picked up the razor and made the first of many gentle scrapes across his skin. Muscle memory had you finishing up within minutes of starting.

The rest of his shave went smoothly until you got to the last step.

“Which one do you prefer?”

You held up two bottles of aftershave, letting him take and inspect them at his leisure. One had a spicier scent while the other had a cleaner, more natural scent to it.

He chose the latter.

It took you moments to pat it into his skin until you were certain you’d done your job well. The same moments you realized you would shortly be forced to say goodbye to him.

Before you could think better of it, you leaned into his space and pressed your lips as softly as you could to his cheek.

His breath hitched at your action, but he didn’t appear upset.

Taking that as a win, you retreated with a small smile. “A good luck kiss for your date tonight. It was an absolute pleasure to meet you, stud, and to work with you. I really hope we’ll get to do it again.”  

*****

Main Masterlist

If you'd like to be tagged, reply to me here or message me. I do expect Bucky's story to span a couple more parts. If you want to be tagged for the whole series with the other characters, please reply to the master post.

[stbot]

vintage gays as vintage vinyl

[vanillabeenflower]

I watched Electric Dreams for the first time today

It was pretty good! I wish Edgar and Madeline interacted more though

[hazzybat]

Jan arms Jan arm Jan arms Jan arms Jan arms Jan arms Jan arms

[https-hunter]

I think the pink ladies would see barbie together

[asheoninactive]

Really bad picture quality but whatever . I love u musicalmatsu designs .

[gummy-worms-in-my-brain]

felt a bit bad abt just posting a pic of a number on its own so i drew this w colors from the theme,.,,, but what. the hell. thats a lot of people,.,,,

[jauntilyplacedcaps]

[marioclash]

my brain is full of fun facts about music that will never be useful ever

[jackredfieldwasmyjacob]

Last Halloween ask! What is your favorite candy? Are you dressing up/doing something this weekend? I'm absolutely certain you're all througly sick of me and my bs, so this ask is just me saying thank you for indulging me and wish you a nice weekend and idk just tell me about anything you wish to talk about 😊

My favorite candy has to be gummy bears and those gominolas that are caramelo-shaped but are still gominolas, i love those :) And this weekend has been and is being very hectic lol, my sister's birthday was on Saturday, and she had an art exposition that same day, so we all helped her out there, went to eat with the family and then as my birthday present to her we two went to a ginebras concert!!! Yesterday she had her birthday party with her school friends at my grandparents' place so I was there to bring food and help my mum and grandma with everything, and finally today she has a second birthday party with her uni friends, also at my grandparents place. Tomorrow my parents my sister and I will be going out to lunch to a place my sister chooses, and then the only thing left will be a big family reunion at my grandparents' place, probably next weekend. So yeah, big couple of days, I'm soo exhausted.

[titus-androgynous-87]

I sent this to my wife and she sent me this:

And if that doesn’t tell you everything you need to know about us, I don’t know what else you want from me

[Men and especially minors, DNI. He/They married dyke]

[magicveiled]

idc what anyone says grease 2 will always be far superior in every way to the first one ty

[evilgwrl]

ExHusband!Simon x Reader

You Want a Divorce? (One)

Note: I'm having the WORST writer's block now so pls excuse my lack of proper writing... I'm currently sitting in front of a beach writing in hopes that ill gain inspo

CW: Angst, mentions of sex, jealous/possessive Simon, PLS DONT LEAVE YOUR KIDS IN THE CAR !!! Or break into someone’s house

Inspired by: Ex!Husband Simon

PART TWO

Simon stared at you. The shades of his eyes simmering into endless voids of obsidian, blonde lashes moulded against his greased lids, the residue of the perpetual torture his body had succumbed to during deployment.

“You want a divorce?” He spoke, voice deep as he flickered between your shaking heads, sweat soiling into the papers gripped firmly and your swollen face, cheeks feverish with a red hue, eyes even more so.

You held back a rough sob, throat stripped of all moisture evident in your hoarse voice as you spoke, “Yes, Simon. I think it would be best for our family… for us.”

He scoffed. “You think the best thing for our family is to separate?”

“We already pretty much are. You’re away for days, weeks, months at a time. We’re hardly a family and it’s difficult to explain to the children why I’m crying.”

“Ok then.”

That was it. You would admit, it stung. His lacklustre tone felt like a stab in the gut, the blade drenched with anthrax as it reared blistering sores internally, the effects having shown through your putrid complexion. Your skin was dull, practically lifeless, the only living form of you grew day by day through the darkening of eyebags that almost made you look apocalyptic.

It had been 12 months of separation, officially 8 being legally divorced. You kept his last name, the permanent burn of hearing Mrs Riley still searing through you with every syllable, yet you feel it would only hurt you more if they said Ms.

Simon was often away now, and the minimal family time he used to get felt pointless as the shabby apartment he moved into after the sudden interference of your mind-boggling news barely fit the two kids you shared. His body felt more relentless on him, the taunting of his mind fulgurated the inoperative reality that he would come home to you, to his family.

His voice, almost like it dropped an octave had grown richer in aggression, tormenting those he deemed suitable, both with his tongue and with his bruised knuckles, an oil painting of blue and purple hues radiating across the pale flesh as he shrugged it off to his team as “pushing himself and others to do better”.

Couldn’t you realise your mistake? Wouldn’t you prefer crying in his arms about his absence than never having it fulfilled again?

As he looked around the bleak environment, tan stained walls revolting the creaking mattress he had brought someone home to, someone who wasn’t you. It made him feel sick like a viral infection had slunk its way into his bloodstream as he laid next to a woman that failed to make his cock throb, endless images of you sprawled out under him flickering. No wonder he called out your name instead.

You felt the familiar shake of your hands every time your phone dinged; Simon’s dreary tone was evident through his dry “On the way” text. You ushered a day of your children’s life into their cartoon-themed backpacks, innocent smiles adorning their skin, doe-like eyes of brown, far too familiar to Simon’s staring up at you.

The sound of his car scraping into your paved driveway almost made you feel like throwing up, the nerves of seeing him combined with the already present pit of anxiety due to your date later turning you into one big shaky mess as you brushed it off as “too much caffeine”.

The echo of his car door slamming shut rung through your ears, staining you with the reiteration that your ex-husband was now at your door, heavy fists knocking upon the wood. The image you saw of him in your mind morphed back to reality as you stared at him, a blank expression on your face.

“Hi, love.”

“Hi, Simon.”

Your frown was clear, the pet name you were so used to becoming a distant memory in the past few months. It was a hole you were attempting to fill, to clear yourself away from his teasing tongue and faux impression of a healthy relationship. You were divorced for a reason, you knew that, but as you gazed upon the lack of life in his skin, it was almost like he was holding a mirror up to you.

“Daddy!” You watched as your 5-year-old, Ella, practically leapt into his hefty frame, his hands coiling around her like second nature. You could feel his warmth, the heat that would build in your stomach when you felt those same digits touch you.

“Hi sweetheart,” his voice gruff, yet tone lighter as he placed a delicate kiss on the skin of her forehead, “You miss me?”

She nodded, her face buried in the hem of his neck as your other child cooed from the bouncy chair, tubby legs attempting to wheel himself to the door.

“There’s my boy,” Simon practically cooed as he placed Ella down, bounding inside as he lifted the toddler out, grabby arms reaching out to pull at Simon’s locks, gentle tugs causing you to laugh.

Your voice cut through the scene like glass. Why would you want to destroy such a happy moment? Weren’t you supposed to be reuniting? Just say it, tell Simon you want him to come home, that you need him.

“This is Ella’s bag,” you speak, holding up the pink Minnie Mouse bag, “And this is Toby’s.” Your son giggled as he muffled out the words, “Transformers”.

Simon nodded, “Are you doing anything tonight?”

Ella practically screeched, “Mummy’s going on a date!” The thrill of her laughter that followed only seemed to make the situation more awkward.

“A date?” Simon’s voice was deadly, the hair raising on your arms as you shook your head, a tight smile on your suddenly dry lips.

“No, no, nothing like that. Just catching up with an old colleague of mine.”

“But he’s a boy, Mummy,” Ella giggled. Who was raising your daughter to be such a big mouth? Your face formed an annoyed look, eyebrows raising as a line of wrinkles crinkled against your forehead, your pointer fingers massaging your temples.

“An old colleague?” Simon practically gasped. Had he met him at your old work Xmas parties?

“Let’s get you guys in the car.” You fumbled with Toby’s car seat as you strapped him in, your nimble fingers shaking with anxiety before you shut the door, pressing a kiss against the window before wiping away the minimal residue of dirt. Gross.

“Who is he?” His tone was acerbic like he was looking for an argument. How dare you try and replace him? He was your husband, the father of your two kids? Have you seen this random man before? Had he fucked you?

“God, Simon-“

“Who is he?” Simon was relentless, bullying his way into getting the answers as his arms folded across his chest, tattoos practically screaming at you too.

“His name’s Andrew. I ran into him at a coffee shop a few weeks back and he just wanted to catch up. That’s it.”

A loud scoff sounded in the air. “You mean that geezer from that corporate job you hated? The one who didn’t know it was weird to blatantly stare down your dress when you were standing next to your fucking husband?”

“He didn’t stare down my dress! You’re not my husband anymore, Simon. I can see who I want.”

“I don’t want our children to grow up thinking they have multiple dads.”

You’ll admit, that stung.

“Multiple dads? You’re out of your mind. The only reason they would ever believe they have multiple dads is if their real one stopped showing up. And where have you been, Simon? When have you shown up?”

Simon held his tongue, the warmth of the metallic taste gashing through his teeth as he practically snarled past you. “I’ll bring them back tomorrow.”

The dress you wore was practically suffocating you as you tucked your stomach in. Simon never minded the change in your figure after motherhood, he found himself liking it even more. He loved knowing that his seed put you through that, that he made you swell with his children, and he brought out the glow in your cheeks and the delicate stretch marks that laced your hips.

Andrew was nice. His tone was comforting as he walked to your door, ushering you to his car as he insisted you could order whatever you wanted. He was handsome, the salt and pepper hues of his hair settling your insecurity.

“We’ll take the Pinot Noir,” he spoke, looking at you with an almost arrogant sheer in his blue eyes. You only liked white. Simon knew that just like he knew everything about y-

You’re not with Simon anymore. You had to realise that. Maybe that’s why you brought Andrew home, let him shove his cock (that was a lot smaller than what you were used to) inside your heat, as you let out moans you had mimicked from the porn you watched with the actor that resembled far too much of your ex-husband.

Simon's fingers gripped the steering wheel early the next morning, your two children snuggled up in the backseat as he drove back to his old house, your old home. He wasn’t a man who gave up easy, he would show you, prove to you that you made a mistake. You needed each other.

Hold on. You don’t drive a red car?

His car lurched into the entrance of your home, nearly ramming into the garage as he shoved it in park, rolling down the two back windows slightly for air as he dug around in the small side compartment of his car.

The familiar gold key he had stolen from you the night he packed up all his stuff stared back at him, practically egging him on. Go on Simon, march in there. So he did. His hand rattled against the door knob, glancing back to peak into the car for a second before he slammed the door shut.

Your body froze. Were you being robbed? No. It was only Simon. A very angry-looking Simon. You stood, the white sheet barely shielding your naked body as he took in the sight of the man next to you, his hands wrapping around his shoulders as he practically ripped him out of bed, flinging him onto the floor as he grunted, eyes reared with hatred.

“Simon, what the fuck are you doing? WHERE ARE THE KIDS?”

Andrew groaned, on the floor, covering his groin as Simon chucked the masculine clothes at his head, the thin boxers soiled across the man’s scalp as he trembled.

“Our kids are asleep in the car, waiting for their Mummy to come to the zoo with them.” Simon’s words were despicable, laced with an acrimonious tone, small particles of spit seething through his lips as stared at you.

He turned to the man, a giant frame staggering over the top of him. “Get the fuck out, and if you wake up our kids when you go past, I will personally put a bullet straight in the middle of your skull,” he said, pushing a thick digit against his forehead as Andrew rushed out, clothes barely on before you felt the front door shut, a cry of apologises leaving your lips as you tried to assist him but Simon only held you back, a tight grip coiling around your arm.

“What the fuck was that? How’d you get in?” You couldn’t even place the words to say, humiliation roaring through you as you snuggled the sheet closer to you, away from his peering eyes.

“It’s time to be a family again, don’t you think love?”

[bunnibellebaby]

Not to be horny for old men but wow those guys from the original star trek hubbah hubbah

[s-aint-elmo]

the theme is same faces

(ID in alt text)

bonus + design notes:

sparknotes:

tridentarii: the building block was "lions" (corona's mane of hair and king vibes + ianthe's scar lionking swagger) but i think i lost that plot at some point. regardless peep the earrings for symbols of their twisted mutualism. also they have dimples <3 bc on corona they're perfect and on ianthe (when she smiles wide enough) they're sickeningly dissonant

the nonas: harrow has curls bc i think the only thing funnier than saddling a nun who's been shaving her head since infancy with fast-growing hair is for that hair to be horrible messy springy curls that are barely spared from frizz by the sheer grease #bathingisn'tsafeformern. please also applaud my restraint in adhering to canon and not giving nona dimples. she deserved them

the sixth: came to me fully formed honestly. palamedes calls camilla beautiful enough for the alexandrites so i just let my heart and sapphism take the wheel here. for pal when i first read gtn i visualized him very differently but other artists made such a compelling case for scruffy pal that now i can't see him any other way

the second: also let my heart take the wheel here. wanted to draw a man carved out of hardwood so i did <3 at the caliber of necromancer that g1d is i know he probably wouldn't have so much scarring but the heart wants what it wants (cool factor). in my head and in my heart they're from wake

naberius: i don't have anything to say in my defense. i rewatched teen beach movie, found the perfect face claim and set the wheels of fate in motion. i think babs is hot the way a ken doll is hot, y'know? it takes yanny piloting his flesh mecha for him to be gender (<- testimonial from my masc nb friend)

[jauntilyplacedcaps]