Imagines ➳ Bucky Barnes

Chocolate Amber Swirl

comment/message me with requests! I'm honestly terrible at coming up with ideas for these
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"Remind me why I let you do this."
You picked up another strand of his overgrown, chocolate hair, and began tucking it skilfully under what you thought to be, 'the hair version of starry night' - on the other hand, what Bucky had deemed as an act that devalued everyone of all respect for him. And ironically, his dubious tone defeated the whole point of his statement being presented a question.

"Well, I don't suppose 'for charity' isn't a good response, is it?" You jerked at the sharp, pins-and-needles pain in your leg, and repositioned yourself to sit on the other. Replying quite facetiously, and Bucky of course - as per usual - making of it a preparation for the ostensibly ceaseless, months of badgering he'd receive from his peers. And progressively, it inclined apparent to spot that, despite his optimum efforts, it became more arduous for Bucky to avoid a social faux pas, with yours and Sam's manipulative presence.

He sighed with exasperation, and leaned into your patiently working hands, marginally hoping you wouldn't notice, and half-heartedly hoping you would.
"You're gonna be so beautiful, Bucky," you mused, purling a tress you'd pieced around your finger. "you're gonna look like a pretty, pretty princess. Maybe I could get Wanda to make you a tiara."

You giggled to yourself, distinguishing Bucky mumbled a vexed, 'shut up', and innocently unpleating a few strands, maybe lingering the intoxicating smell of himself a little longer, and slyly hoping Bucky wouldn't have the height of a sensory system. But he did, he noticed. And he didn't mind it one bit.

Bucky'd never been as merely close to you as he was now, and it seemed innocent, because that's what it was supposed to be, but was it innocent in the end? You couldn't lie, you'd accredited your mind to wander, and when it did that, there was hardly a comeback from that monotonous pit of possibilities.
"Ow-"
"Shit- sorry. I'm really sorry... Are you okay?"

Bucky nodded back nonchalantly and his eyes fluttered lightly in annoyance, and you bit your lip - because quite frankly you were a fucking dumbass.

"How damn long does braiding take?"

You sighed, simultaneously allowing a grin to flood over your face and silently lighten your mood,
"it doesn't. I just like touching your hair - it's real soft."

Bucky branched back from your hands at this, and chortled in his throat, as he gnarled round on the blood-orange couch to sit cross legged before you. And he was a sight. Because somehow, he made a pair of baggy, grey sweatpants and a French-style braid work. He encompassed the back of his head, patting it, and at what looked like an attempt to figure out the foreign hairstyle.
Bucky's reaction made you laugh, the little 'ooph' noises he made and light comments like 'my hair feels weird' or even going as far as congratulating you on your job. Each - and although different - making your heart flutter more.

"Hey y/n we still down for that movie lat-"
You glanced behind Bucky to see Sam. And his mouth opened, forming around a failed statement. Nothing. He promptly closed his mouth again, bemused. And finally the only words falling from his mouth were a slight, "dear god", as Bucky didn't even bother to turn around, because crimson embarrassment was already vivid across his cheeks.

"I guess Frosty finally got a new meaning, huh?" And Bucky visually clenched his jaw hearing Sam returning to his usual state. "This your Queen Elsa of Arendelle cosplay then?"

You let loose a string of giggles, then clasping your boney hand over your mouth, staring at Buck guiltily.
"I hate you guys"
Was all he mumbled, before stumbling onto his feet and flushing past Sam, who'd still been in a fit of shameless snickering. And relinquishing into another room, knowing he'd never hear the end of this, he left the pair of you with nothing but a souvenir of a flip-off.