~700 words on Bucky and random other bits

[delicatale]

There's a moment of silence in the room as their new model walks in, all leather jacket and tight jeans, combed back hair and a secret smirk on his lips. He walks into the middle of the room, breaking through the circle of easels to stand there, flawed in ways that make Steve's fingers itch to pick up his charcoal.

The professor introduces him as Bucky, and Bucky lets his jacket slide off his shoulders with an easy roll of muscles, and Steve's lips go dry, his eyes unable to move away from Bucky and the way his mouth is turned up at the corners in something a little smug, a little hard, something Steve wants to put to paper.

Bucky folds his clothes and leaves them on the back of the nearest chair, and then takes his position on the white massage chair their professor has stolen from the physical therapy department. Steve picks up his charcoal, feeling the ridges and contours of it before leaning into his easel, eyes glancing up every so often. Bucky is sitting down with one leg bent, one leg straight in front of him, elbow resting on his bent knee.

Steve starts with his hand, relaxed large fingers hovering above the skin of his shin, thumb curved towards his palm, the veins and tendons he can see when he draws Bucky's wrist and arm; he goes on with Bucky's leg, shadowing calf muscles and trying to convey the idea of smooth skin covered by dark hair, wanting people to touch his drawing just as much as he wants to touch Bucky himself. Steve smudges charcoal lines under Bucky's feet, tracing the edges of his pen strokes up along Bucky's straight leg to darken further between Bucky's legs, not able to see anything else than a nest of curls from his place in the classroom. Steve suddenly feels jealous of Susie Walker, sitting with a perfect view between Bucky's legs, but his own spot allows him a much better position for everything else, Steve realizes when he looks up and starts easing his pen into the curve of Bucky's ass, the beauty of it only slightly tarred by the position Bucky is in. He's got a tattoo on the back of his hip, and Steve can only see a smudge of ink, which he puts to paper as faithfully as he can, wanting to run his fingers over it, his tongue.

Bucky's chest is angles and planes, a few ribs showing but a lot of defined muscles as well. Steve draws them tense just like they are in front of him, brushes shadows with his thumb under Bucky's nipples, blurs the space between Bucky's collarbones down to his belly button to recreate the hair dusting Bucky's chest. He licks his lips when he draws hipbones jutting out, trying to only think about the way Bucky's skin pales there, all the way to the middle of his thighs. Steve draws the corded muscles in Bucky's neck, the way it bends forward a little, the protruding Adam's Apple, and then his eyes settle on Bucky's face for a moment.

Jawline - sharp and angular, coming up to an funnily shaped ear Steve spends a solid five minutes on, up and along a temple. Long eyebrows, large oval eyes a starting blue green, soft slope of a nose, heart-shaped lips, chin dimple. Steve draws Bucky's features slowly, with excruciating detail and patience, until his back hurts from standing over his easel and his teeth hurt from clenching his jaw. When he pulls back, he jumps as a hand lands on his shoulder, looking up to see his professor nodding appreciatively. Steve smiles feebly, turning back to his work, when he spots Bucky looking right back at him, eyebrow raised, one corner of his mouth upturned; it makes Steve chuckle silently, scratching the back of his neck with dirty fingers as he looks at his drawing.

Later, when Peggy sees it, she tells Steve how it's almost creepy, how alive he looks, like he's breathing through the paper, and then she gives Steve a critical look, and announces it seems he has found his Muse.


Right, wrote this right in the entry box so it hasn't been checked by anyone, so I am sorry about any mistakes, please indulge me right now. Now that's out of my system - I have no idea what to do with it!

Also, I saw this and I thought I could always go for it and grope for some love or something.

(find my fics on AO3 and LJ)

So, seems there are some awards going on in the H50 fandom. I am...uncomfortable with the idea. Fic awards have made my life a living Hell back in the McFly fandom, created tensions and stupidity and drama. I feel like crowning one fic per genre is far from being enough, and many people who write wonderful wonderful fics will be shunned and some might lose confidence to write. I used to love the idea, a while ago, and whenever I have been nominated or won anything, I have felt over the moon and honoured and humbled. But I think they tend to do more harm than good, to be honest. So, yeah, makes me uncomfortable.

AND NOW I HAVE SEEN THE BOURNE LEGACY TRAILER BY THE WAY, DOES ANYONE WANT TO FLAIL WITH ME OVER IT?