One-Shot Fanfic Imagines

16th (BUCKY BARNES) 2

WARNINGS: Cursing

Tomorrow came, and you had been standing infront of his cell for a few minutes now. Your other hand cupping the taser in your coat pocket. You can do this. You're not gonna die.

You inserted the key, opening the door right after. There went James again, casually sitting on his concrete bed, as if he didn't just threatened your life yesterday. You cleared your throat, and pushed the cart inside. You purposely left the door open, just in case he does something that can potentially end your life right there and then. But James noticed it. It made him look at you, then to the door with his eyebrows furrowed.

"Close it," he said in a firm tone, "close the door."

"O...okay," you moved to close the door, against your will. "Um, by the way, Erika told me you ate all your meal last night. That's...that's great."

You started a small conversation with him, while placing his meal and glass of water on the table right before him, like you always do. He stared at you, and for the first time since you had been assigned to him, you saw him blinked. Was that a good thing?

He did not answer you, but he hummed under his breath instead. You did your routines with, stir his food, and feed him like he was a little child. You looked at his eyes directly, then down to his beard and long hair.

"I, uh..." you calmed yourself, careful not to stutter. Your breath shook as you handed him his glass of water, to which he took from your hands. "I brought a razor and a pair of scissors today. Do you...wanna get a haircut, or perhaps trim your beard?"

He stared at you from his side, his eyes squinting. "You know how to cut hair?"

Despite his lighter disposition today, your fear of him never dissipated. Who knows what goes inside his head? "Yes, I know. My aunt, she used to be a stylist, and she taught me. I brought some supplies, too."

He hummed again, and drank the water down before placing the empty glass back to the table. "Sure. "

You smiled, a little too wide before you noticed it and toned it down to a small grin. "Okay, I guess you should shower first."

"Okay."

You seated on one of the bench inside the room, the sound of fast trickling of the shower filling the empty walls. A lot of scenarios went through your head. What if you cut his hair wrong and he stabs you with the scissors? But no, you knew better that you can cut hair. Your aunt taught you well enough and you had cut some of your friends' hair on occasion. This would be fine.

You were pulled out from your thoughts when the door of the cubicle slammed open, revealing James naked before you. You opened your mouth, shocked, but at the same time, you could not peel your eyes off his well-toned built. And his...

"Towel."

You shook your head. "What?"

He stared at you. "Towel. There's no towel here."

"Oh," you stood in a flash, taking one from the hanged rows of necessities. You walked to him, but made sure you kept a safe distance, extending your arm over. "Here. I'm sorry about that--"

"And my clothes."

You blinked for a couple of times, looking over the bench only to see his neatly stacked clothes. Shit.

You ran to it, careful not to trip on your heels, then back to where he stood. "I'm sorry."

Bucky did not say a single word and went back inside the cubicle. Your mind still pictured his body, how he stood majestically with that same glare he had in his eyes. There was something stirring inside you, specifically, inbetween your thighs. You shook your head a little more, trying to shove that thought off.

~~~

Placing a soft cloth over his chest and tying it around his neck, you looked at him through the mirror. Bucky was not really allowed to be visited by anyone, not even barbers, except for workers like you. You took this chance to help him groom, though he had been giving you reasons to be scared, it was still your job and you were paid to take care of him.

"I do not want to cut my hair." He said all of a sudden, his fingers running through his shoulder-length hair.

"I'm sorry?" You looked at him, the scissors already ready in your hands.

"I don't wanna cut my hair, (y/n)," he sighed, "just shave my beard off."

You slowly nodded, setting the scissors aside. You took the razor instead, placing the 3mm attachment over it, and turned the device on. You carefully slid the buzzing razor on his hair, shaving off his scruffy beard. His face was starting to clear, though there were some regions of his face where stubbles were still visible.

You took the cream, applied some of it on half of his face and started to shave his stubbles with a blade. Your face was so close to his, you could feel his hot breath fanning over your cheeks. He kept his face stoic, as per usual, his eyes sticking to you and watching your movements.

After you finished, you took the damp face towel and carefully brushed it to his face. Once the cream completely washed off, you paused. He was beautiful.

You always thought his eyes and nose were beautiful, even with his beard on, but now that it was already out of the picture, he looked younger and more...vibrant.

"You have steady hands," he commented, "bet you'd do even better with a gun."

His fingers schemed over his jaw as he looked at himself through the small mirror. You blinked again and again, his words stirring up the same fear once again. "Would you want me to rather tie your hair?"

"Do you have a tie?"

"Yeah," you nodded, reaching over the cart to grab one, "here."

You proceeded behind him, your fingers brushing through his locks. You were surprised with how soft it was, his eyes closing and humming as you did so. He liked how your soft touches felt against his scalp. No one had ever touched him like that before.

"All done." You said, smiling. Your voice made him open his eyes, looking at how your hands rested on each of his shoulders.

Bucky smiled at you. "Thank you, (y/n)."

His smile made him look less...intimidating. He appeared to be very amicable and soft.

You moved away from him and arranged your supplies neatly and back in place, preparing to leave his cell. Bucky's eyes sticked on you as you removed the cloth from his neck, enjoying and amusing himself at your mere existence. How come he had never seen you years back? He was all around places all the time, he must've seen you somewhere; could've stalked you, dug into your life, knowing every single thing there is to know about you. He would've done that. You were the only person he found interesting.

"I'll see you tomorrow, (y/n)."

You cleared your throat as you pushed the cart to head out, your head turning toward his direction. He was looking at you with those hooded eyes, and you swear you could see a different glint flashing in his eyes.

"I'll see you tomorrow, James."