#born in 1917

[brudberg1]

An old man

You came from the past,born to believe induty, to always exceed,to always do your best,I think you might havebelieved in change, butnever felt at homewith revolutionary youth, you werea conservative socialista moderate rebelan authoritarian liberalin the end an old man. Later I heard from othershow funny you werewhile at home you dwelledin resentment for thosewho had done you wrong. You…

[tipsywench]

This is an appreciation post for Till Lindemann and his suspenders

[glennk56]

William Hootkins in the 1990s (2 of 3)

In late 1991, William Hootkins had a major role in Hear My Song by rookie co-writer/director Peter Chelsom. It is a fun film and Hootkins looks like he had a ball while doing it.

In 1992, Hootkins did another film with Hardware writer/director Richard Stanley, Dust Devil. I haven't seen this film either.

Also in 1992, William Hootkins appeared in major motion picture A River Runs Through It with Brad Pitt.

Hootkins also appeared in an episode of The Young Indiana Jones Chronicles.

In 1993 Hootkins appeared in UK TV movie Age of Treason.

[sugarpopss]

November 30th, 1942

This is very much inspired by that post thats like 'remember how Bucky said he enlisted so Steve wouldn't worry about him'. I just couldn't stop thinking about Bucky getting his draft letter and being so worried about people worrying about him. This draws heavily from the lore developed in the chat with @bucknastysbabe , inculding but not limited to: Rebeccas food thing, George Barnes the WWI vet who died from a medical problem caused by his time in the amry, Steve and Rebecca being close, Ma Barnes being one of the kindest people in the world and a midwestern girlie...etc etc. Sources for the bits of research I did for this fic are here and here.

November 30th, 1942

In 1942, on the Monday after Thanksgiving, Bucky got a letter. He saw it when he got home from the docks, slightly crumpled between Rebecca’s algebra and geography books on the kitchen counter. It had gotten a little damp in the mailing process and was stuck to the front of a letter to his mother, from her own mother back in Iowa. He didn’t think too much of it-he was too exhausted to think much of anything. Unloading crates from ships was far from the worst work in the world, but it sure did zap his energy and fill his sinuses with dust and dirt and smoke. Some of the old timers-guys who claimed to remember striking for a 5 cent raise-liked to joke that pretty soon ‘pretty boy Barnes’ would get to know the sort of back pain that went hand-in-hand with a lifetime of hauling cargo, and that would trump exhaustion every time. 

Bucky always laughed it off. They were just joking around, and he’d take any ache in the world if it meant being able to take care of his family, anyway. Even if his Ma kept bringing up trade schools that weren’t too far or too expensive, and Steve was champing at the bit to join the military, Bucky was fine right where he was. He was just fine in the apartment he grew up in, working hard, flirting with the girls running telegrams in the harbormaster's office, walking Rebecca home from school when he got off in time. He got fantasy novels from the library with Clark Gable knights and Lana Turner princesses on the covers; He boxed on the weekends and was always a good sport; He caught Rebecca in the short hallway connecting their bedrooms every morning and gave her a noogie; He went to the cinema with Steve when they both had a little change in their pockets and flicked popcorn kernels at each other like they were kids. 

All that to say-Bucky was doing perfectly fine. He wasn’t raring to make a name for himself or see some great bloody glory. He definitely wasn’t interested in signing up for the war. The picture of his father on the mantel, clean shaven in an army uniform from twenty years ago, kicked the sense back into him whenever he thought about it. If the photograph of the man Bucky could barely remember didn’t work, the urn next to it surely did. 

And all of these things were reasons why, when he unstuck the damp mail from his sisters schoolbooks, the bottom just about dropped out of his stomach. The ink was a little smeared from getting wet, but still perfectly legible: for him, with the selective service system logo stamped right on the front. 

It was like the entire apartment tilted, rocked like a seesaw and threw him completely off balance. Without even thinking, Bucky stuffed the letter into his pocket. He didn’t want to look at it, think about it, deal with it. Whatever it said-as if there was any question as to its contents-he would worry about later. Preferably not standing in the middle of the kitchen in his grimy work clothes, whale eyed and frightfully pale.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The letter remained stuffed deep in Buckys pocket until after supper. Bathed, comfortably full and bone deep tired, he was usually out like a light after working a full day. But instead of passing out underneath the quilt-a gift from the elderly widow two floors up, after he’d spent the summer of ‘35 bringing up her mail and groceries and painting over the water damage on her kitchen ceiling-he fished the letter out from the pants strewn on the floor and just…held it. Looked at it. Turned it over, looked at where his address had been smudged a little by the damp. It was definitely for him; no mistake there. His full name was right there on the address line, middle initial and everything. 

Maybe it was completely mundane! Every guy had to sign up for selective service-tons of them probably got letters about misspelled words or unchecked boxes. Maybe he’d written something down incorrectly back when he had filled out the forms. 18-year-olds were stupid, after all, and he probably hadn’t been paying that much attention to the information he was putting down. That was most likely it; He’d put his birthday down as October 3rd instead of March 10th by accident, or initialed something that was supposed to be a signature or vice versa. So what if it’d been four years since he filled out that paperwork? Tiny errors like that were probably pretty low priority for the selective service, especially after America joined the war. 

He was just going to open the letter and see what they needed him to fix or resign. 

He opened the letter. He read it once, then twice, then three times. 

There was no problem with the paperwork he’d filled out at 18. 

He didn’t need to resign any forms or recheck any boxes.  

He did need to report to the local selective service board the following Tuesday. 

Oh. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. 

Buckys first thought wasn’t ‘I don’t want to join the military’. It wasn’t even ‘I’m scared’. Buckys very first thought was for his family. He couldn’t be in the military! He was an important part of the household! The Barnes had only recently edged back into a relatively comfortable financial situation because of the combined incomes Bucky and his Ma brought in, and someone had to be around to look after Rebecca-as much as she’d protest and whine that she was 16, she didn’t need to be looked after-when their Ma couldn’t. Someone needed to haul Steve out of fights and into dance halls, because yes, Steve was as good as family, would’ve been even if Rebecca hadn’t declared he had ‘adopted brother rights’ years ago. 

Buckys second thought was ‘I don’t want to join the military’, because he didn’t. He’d never wanted to, never even seriously entertained the idea. There had already been a Barnes man in a war and it had destroyed him; robbed a good man of his peace and his health, robbed Buckys mother of a husband and himself and Rebecca of a father. Hell, Rebecca had never even met their father-he had died two months before she was born. A couple of old photographs, a ceramic urn, and a watch and wedding band with no hand to wear them were all she knew of the man. 

It made Buckys stomach turn to think about leaving his family for the thing that had put his father in the grave before 40. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next morning he started to think. He couldn’t tell his Ma he’d been drafted-he certainly couldn’t tell Rebecca or Steve. They’d all worry too much for him. The downside to having loved ones was that as much as you loved them, they also loved you. And loving someone meant worrying for them when they were about to get scooped out of their life with less than a months notice. 

It’d be less worrying if he'd just enlisted, if he had made a choice, even a rash, ill-advised one. At least that would imply he had some sort of excitement or confidence in joining the military. At least that would imply that he was ready, that nobody needed to worry about him because Bucky himself wasn’t worried or scared or hesitant. 

That was the thought that he chewed on all day. Chewed on it so much, in fact, that he barely chewed anything else, including his supper. And that was strange behavior for Bucky. 

“What’s wrong with you?” Rebecca had asked him. It sounded incredibly blunt, but to be entirely fair, she had first made a frantic gesture towards the peas on her plate with her head-because Rebecca was not eating peas that week, and if she could switch their plates without their Ma noticing she could avoid a stern look and a ‘clean plates club’ lecture-and then kicked him under the table when her head tossing got no response. 

Their Ma was looking at him, too. If there was one thing the Barnes siblings were, it was chatty, and although Rebecca had been blathering on about how a girl in her geography class had gotten in trouble for wearing lipstick, Bucky had been almost entirely silent. And he’d barely touched his food even though he wasn’t on the same legume strike as his sister. 

He shrugged, trying to play it cool, casual and calm. He took a bite of his food-the peas were fine even if they came from a can, because their Ma was an excellent cook. Rebecca was just weird about food sometimes-to give himself time to think. 

He settled on “I can’t walk you home next week.” 

Rebecca sighed in that ‘God, you’re all so uptight and dramatic’ way that teenagers do. “I don’t need you to walk me home. I’m not a kid, I know how to get home from school.” 

Their Ma gave him another curious look, though. “Did you make plans?” she asked. “With Steve? With a girl?”

She didn’t sound upset, just…curious. It was odd, after all, for Bucky to not want to walk Rebecca home. He tried very hard to align his hours at the docks with her school schedule. It was important to him, to make sure she was safe and that nobody bothered her. 

“Sort of.” He replied. 

He knew that wasn’t a very good answer, and his Mas face reflected it. He’d never in one million years chose some dame over his sister, and Steve was as good as Rebeccas second brother. He was more likely to just join in on the walk than make plans over it. Hell, half of the time they did things as a trio-things like pooling Christmas and birthday money to go to Coney Island, an outing upon which the then teen boys had ridden the Cyclone, Steve had vomited into a public trash can, and Rebecca had proven that she was somehow remarkable at darts despite never having played before in her life. 

His Ma raised her eyebrow. God, he was bad at lying, bad at keeping secrets, bad at misleading people. 

“I-” He met his Mas eyes for a moment, took a deep breath, steeled himself. “It’ll be a few days next week, actually. I enlisted and I’m reporting to induction on Tuesday.” 

The world didn’t end once he said it. A small part of him-the part that reminded Bucky he hadn’t lied to his Ma since he was 17 and she asked if he had cigarettes in his bedroom, and even then he’d come clean about two hours later-had expected something huge and dramatic to happen. Maybe both his mother and sister would drop their forks and snap their heads up, maybe a police siren or fire alarm would go off somewhere nearby, maybe lightning would strike the building. 

But none of that happened. Rebecca continued pushing her food around her plate. “No you didn’t.” She scoffed.

Their Ma didn’t dismiss his statement as a joke, but her expression was difficult to read. “You did?” She asked, her voice stern and level. 

Bucky kept going. In for a penny, in for a pound. “I was just thinking about it and it seemed like a good idea. I stopped at the recruiting center last week. I…” 

He trailed off. This wasn’t a perfectly thought through lie, but it felt like a necessary one. 

“Yeah.”

Rebeccas fork actually did clatter to her plate once he finished talking. She looked up at her brother, agape with bright pink spots at the high points of her cheeks. 

“You’re fucking joking! You can’t just leave!” 

“Rebecca Grace!” Their Ma snapped, though it was clear that her heart wasn’t in it. 

Rebecca shot up from the table, her eyes-bright blue like Buckys, like their late fathers-welling up with tears. “No! You can’t leave, that’s not fair!” 

With that she stormed off, the slam of her bedroom door in the small apartment sounding like a gunshot. 

Bucky swallowed and looked down at his food. He wasn’t hungry anymore. 

“James.” 

He looked up at his Ma. Guilt immediately began to eat at him. Guilt for the lie, guilt for having to leave them, guilt for everything his Ma had been through and would go through in the future. 

“What branch?” 

He swallowed again. The guilt was crawling up his throat like vomit. He wanted to admit it was a lie, to say he was scared and didn’t want to go and didn’t know what to do. But there was nothing to be done. All he could do was help the people who loved him to not worry so much. 

“Army. Like dad.” 

She raised her eyebrows. They barely ever spoke about George Barnes military career. Not to say that they never spoke about Bucky and Rebeccas father at all-he’d been the love of their Mas life, she had plenty of stories about him. But they didn’t talk about his time in Europe. Bucky had always gotten the impression that his father hadn’t spoken much about his time in Europe when he was still alive, anyway. 

“Your father was drafted. He didn’t choose the army.” 

He shrugged. 

She sighed and put her fork down, picked it back up, put it down again. 

“I don’t-” She sighed again. “I can’t tell you what to do. You’re a grown man and you get to make your own choices.” 

Bucky didn’t feel like a grown man at that moment. He felt like a little boy trying to convince his mother that he wasn’t afraid of the dark. 

“Do you genuinely want to join the military?”  

The earnest concern in the question was what broke him. He took a very deep breath and met his Mas eyes, blue on brown. She had asked like there was any changing it. Even if he had voluntarily enlisted, he wouldn’t be able to do anything about it after the fact. 

“No. I-I…the letter came yesterday and I have to go on Tuesday and I-.” Bucky cut himself off, feeling something far too much like tears in his eyes, something far too much like a sob beginning to choke up his throat. 

“Jamie, sweetheart…” She stood from the table and opened her arms to him, a hug that he gladly accepted. Three inches taller than his mother or not, 22 years old or not, there was nothing more comforting than his Mas embrace. 

“It’ll be alright, Jamie.” 

By god, he hoped so. 

[shoujothoughts]

"Nothing's perfect, the world's not perfect, but it's there for us, trying the best it can."

Roy, Riza, Maes, and Elizabeth, circa 1931

[midnightwinterhawk]

@fanfic-reading-challenge task:

Me, reading 100 year-old Bucky: You know, technically...

[thethirdman8]

Andrew Wyeth born July 12, 1917

Christina's World, Andrew Wyeth

[famousborntoday]

Minni Katharina Nurme was an Estonian writer.

Link: Minni Nurme

[good-night-space-kid]

Think what you want of rpf but nothing is funnier to me than seeing born and died dates in an ao3 tag. It just feels so silly to me, like I’m here to read about this guy having gay sex but sure why not.

[mionemymind]

Blood Drive

Summary: While donating at a local blood drive, Y/n stumbles up the best nurse in town, Wanda Maximoff. Unable to get Wanda out of her mind, Y/n goes through a lengthy process just to ask her out.

Warnings: Fluff, Blood Donations, Passing Out, Needles, Happy Ending

A/n: Not gonna lie, I think it's somewhat getting easier to write kissing scenes but I still have to look at a tumblr post just to figure out the wording for it. Let me know what you think :)

Word Count: 4.0k

Masterlist

In an era of new politics, the Mayor of New York City declared that registered heroes of the city had to do mandated community service. This was a new mission to help build relationships between the regular folk of New York City and the heroes that harbor it. Because let’s be honest, having Hulk throw your new car at the enemy was not the best introduction for regular people. 

Those who harbored powers relaying force or strength helped out in the trade industry. You’d often see super soldiers helping out in the demolition zone by crushing what was needed. Those with magic tried their best to help heal the homeless or aided at soup kitchens. Anywhere you can unconventionally help, the heroes did. 

For Y/n, it was a lot of physically demanding tasks. Such as helping families move from apartment to apartment. Or helping police officers move accidents out of the way. Sometimes, she would even demonstrate how to safely carry a person through a burning building for the local firefighters. 

Today, however, Y/n decided to do something different. Rather than focusing on the same physical tasks, she chose a simpler mundane task. “Hi there, are you here for the blood drive?” Y/n nodded in agreement to the receptionist upfront. “Just sign in for me right here. Have you filled out the online rapid pass?”

“Yes, I have the QR code screenshotted.” The receptionist smiled warmly. “Perfect. Someone will be with you soon. Please have a seat in our waiting area.” 

Y/n walked towards the waiting room area. This was the fourth thing on her list of community service opportunities to try. She wasn’t quite sure if her blood was even allowed to be donated, having the super soldier serum in her surely could cause a reaction to a regular human. 

After some tests back at the compound, the staff found everything to be okay. That’s how Y/n ended up in a place like this. 

“Y/n Y/l/n.” Getting up from her seat, Y/n followed a nurse in red scrubs to a different area. “How are you today?” 

“I’m good. I'm a little nervous. I’ve never done this before.” The nurse led them to a private part of a huge common room. Multiple stations were built throughout with various people donating blood. “It’s okay to be nervous, but the worst feeling you’ll get today is just a small prick.”

Y/n breathed out slightly in relief. “Let me first get your basic information.” The nurse had gone over Y/n’s personal information but was immediately flagged by the date of birth. “It says you were born on April 2, 1917. It must’ve been a typo.”

The nurse almost changed it to 1971. “Actually ma’am, that is the correct birth date.” 

“So you mean to tell me you were born during World War I?” The nurse was unwilling to believe the joke that was being played. Y/n could immediately tell from the look she gave. “It was the Great War at the time, but yes ma’am I was born in 1917. I’m actually a super soldier.”

The nurse went back to her computer and typed in more information to store on Y/n’s file. “Ah - I see. I’m sorry about that. There’s already a note on your file. It looks like your director has already approved your donation today.” 

Y/n sighed in relief, while she didn’t mind explaining to people her situation of being frozen for so long, it was strenuous trying to get them to understand it all. The rest of the consultation went along smoothly as she gathered the remaining information such as Y/n’s hemoglobin and her rapid pass. 

“Alright dear, let’s get you to a bed.” The nurse led them back to the common area where all the beds were laid out. “Just sit right here for me, right now we currently have a special volunteer today that’s helping out with the drive. She’ll come over in a couple of seconds to help you out. But if you have any questions, please feel free to let us know.” 

Y/n sat up on the reclined bed and looked at her phone. She scrolled through her messages to make sure nothing important was happening. The sound of someone clearing their throat gained her attention. “Y/n?” As Y/n looked up, she could physically feel the moment that time stopped again. Was it possible that she fell back into the ice again? Surely she would feel the same numbness as before. But it was all different. Because from just one look from this girl would be enough to melt all the ice away. 

Y/n’s breath hitched as she locked eyes with her. “I- yes, that’s me.” Y/n cleared her throat, embarrassed at the lack of composure she had. 

“Nice to meet you today. My name is Wanda Maximoff and I’ll be helping you with your blood donation today.” All Y/n could do was nod as she further realized that the woman in front of her was the Scarlet Witch. 

Wanda looked through her notes on the clipboard. “It looks like it’s your first time donating, is that true?” Y/n’s eyes remained locked on Wanda. It was embarrassing how much she couldn’t look away. “Uh yes. It is.”

“Do you have a preference on which arm you would like to use today?” Y/n shook her head in disagreement. “No preference at all.” 

Wanda wrote down more information when a note caught her eye. “S.H.I.E.L.D. approval - are you a member?” Wanda looked over at the young girl in front of her trying to see if she could remember the pretty face.

“I’m one of their new recruits. Only been active for three months.” And suddenly, Y/n seemed to never mind all the questions that Wanda could possibly ask. If it meant talking to her, Y/n would oblige. 

“That’s great to hear. If you don’t mind me asking, do you have any powers that we should be aware of?” 

“Well, I think you’re aware of my counterpart, Bucky Barnes. We both have a super soldier serum.” Wanda smiled at the mention of her old teammate/acquaintance.

 “Interesting. How come I haven’t heard about you before?” Wanda couldn’t shake the feeling that somehow she had managed to miss this girl for three months. 

Y/n scratched the back of her neck sheepishly. “You know how Steve was found in ice right?” Wanda nodded. “That’s basically the same situation I was in but rather than crashing into the arctic, I was in a freezer chamber. I’ve been awake for only ten months.” The shock on Wanda’s face was apparent. 

“Sorry to keep asking,” Y/n never minded, “how has it been like adjusting back to the new life?” Y/n shrugged indifferently. 

“A little rough. I do miss my friends back from my time, but Bucky has been trying his best to help me. However, he has been focused on helping the new Captain America, Sam?”

Wanda nodded, confirming that Y/n’s information was correct. “I do enjoy the fact that I’m no longer Hydra’s soldier though. More than anything, I’m just glad to have a second chance in life. Not a lot of people get that so I’m pretty thankful.”

Wanda digested Y/n’s words and was pretty enlightened at Y/n’s outlook on life. “Thank you for answering all my questions.”

“It’s no problem.” 

“Now, let's get you set up to donate.” Wanda proceeded to bring out a couple of items from the nearby stand. On the table beside Y/n, Wanda placed various tubes and empty bags. Although it was nothing, the sight made Y/n feel slightly uncomfortable. It reminded her too much of Hydra’s labs but minus the dark atmosphere and torture that came with it. 

As if sensing her discomfort, Wanda grabbed a disinfectant and started to disinfect Y/n’s left arm around the area inside her elbow. “Ya know, for being so nice and cooperative. How about you ask me a couple of questions? It makes the day go by faster.” 

Bringing herself out of her internal thoughts, Y/n asked the first thing that came to mind. “You’re the Scarlet Witch, right?”

It was Wanda’s turn to blush. She hadn’t expected Y/n to recognize her so quickly, especially since she just got back to the real world.  “I am.”

“I wasn’t aware that you could help with the American Red Cross as part of your community service.” Wanda grabbed a marker and a squeezable toy. She placed the toy in Y/n’s left hand stating, “Give me three big squeezes and hold on the last squeeze.”

While pressing around Y/n’s elbow, she continued with, “I had to do some training to get qualified. A lot of the people who use magic generally help in other areas.” Wanda marked a dot followed by a line. “You can stop squeezing now.”

“I’m gonna disinfect one more time and then I’ll have to poke you. Are you scared of needles?” Feeling more embarrassed, Y/n looked away as she said, “Yes.” 

“All good. Just means I’ll have to give you a small distraction.” Wanting to distract herself even more, Y/n asked, “Why did you decide to do this rather than something in your wheelhouse?”

Wanda thought about it before replying with, “I like the normalcy of it. On the plus side, it feels more rewarding. Like I’m actually earning my community time rather than going the easy way of using my powers.” As Wanda finished disinfecting, she blew on Y/n’s elbow hoping it would dry fast. 

“When I give you the go-ahead, I’ll have to ask you to give me three more squeezes and hold on to the last one, okay?” Y/n nodded and waited for the signal. 

“And - go.” Y/n did as told, but as she did her last squeeze and held, red wispy magic flowed in front of her morphing into swirls in the air. “Woah.” She followed the magic with her eyes, not even noticing that Wanda had already poked her and started the transfusion. 

“Should be about 10 minutes. Every couple of seconds give the toy a small squeeze to keep it going.” Y/n glanced away from the magic amazed with Wanda. “That didn’t even hurt.” For the first time in Y/n’s life, she didn’t scream when the needles came. 

Wanda couldn’t help but keep the magic up for a little longer. The dopey look on Y/n’s face was something she didn’t want to go away. 

“I told you I would distract you.” Y/n was at a loss of words. Her brain jumbled for anything but all she could focus on was that Wanda Maximoff successfully distracted her. She had a natural caring heart, something the media failed to show. 

“Your magic is beautiful by the way.” Y/n savored the last few seconds of it before it completely disappeared. 

Wanda’s magic has been called many things in life, powerful, destructive, and manipulative but none have ever said beautiful…till now. “Thank you Y/n.” 

There was a small silence as Wanda stayed to make sure Y/n was okay. “I’ll be assisting other volunteers, but if you start to feel like you're fainting, just call me over, okay?” 

“I will.” Would it have been wrong to immediately fake an injury just to get Wanda back? Possibly but Y/n weighed the consequences and none could compare to her. So as Wanda left, Y/n used her free hand to call Bucky. After a couple of rings, he picked up the phone. “Hey, Y/n.” 

Getting straight to the point, “Is Wanda Maximoff single?” 

“Uhh - I think so. She and this synthezoid, Vision, used to date but I believe they broke up a year ago. Why do you ask?” Y/n looked at Wanda who was across the room. Her radiant smile could be spotted from miles away. “Just wanting to gather intel. Thanks Bucky.” 

Y/n hung up the phone, not caring about what Bucky had to say back. Her eyes lingered back to Wanda. No matter how much she distracted herself with her phone, her eyes always glanced back on Wanda Maximoff. Her hair was tied up in a high ponytail and all she wore was matching red scrubs. But everything about her looked and felt beautiful. 

Little did Y/n know, Wanda was admiring her too. 

The blood donation was soon over, quicker than Y/n anticipated.  Wanda had already come over, stopped the machine, and disconnected the line from Y/n’s arm. She taped a cotton ball on top of the area she poked and proceeded to wrap a red bandage around Y/n’s elbow.  “You keep this red bandage on for two hours and the cotton ball for four hours.” 

Wanda grabbed a pamphlet that had Y/n’s personal information and gave it to her. “Don’t miss a single meal for the next eight weeks. Make sure to drink plenty of water as well. If you feel dizzy in the next couple of hours, be sure to call this number, okay?”

Y/n nodded. Her mind was elsewhere at the moment, trying to find ways to ask Wanda Maximoff out. “Do you have any questions for me though?” 

Y/n opened her mouth, wanting to ask her, “Are you busy after this?” But nothing came out. And the more she tried to say words, the more silence that remained. 

“Wanda!” The pair turned to the employee that shouted her name. “I have someone that needs your help after you're done with your current volunteer.” 

“Understood.” Wanda looked back at Y/n. “We have snacks and shirts over there but I think you should be good now. Thank you for donating today.” 

As Wanda walked off, Y/n couldn’t help but beat herself up for not asking. She took a couple snacks and juice boxes before walking out of the donation center. 

Was Y/n in love? Not quite yet. Infatuated? Probably. It was the best explanation as to why she was back at the blood drive the very next day. The brown eyed girl paced around all night trying to think of ways to see Wanda again. And the very first realistic idea she thought of was to donate blood again. 

The super soldier practically begged the compound to give her another approval to donate blood stating that her super serum allowed for faster recovery. When no one could argue with her logic, they allowed a special approval to donate so soon. 

So when Y/n followed all the same directions, all the same questions, she was met with disappointment when she didn’t see the redhead that captured her mind. “Hi, my name is Lucy and I’ll be helping you today.” 

As Lucy proceeded to set up, Y/n couldn’t help but ask, “Is Wanda Maximoff here today?” 

The blonde shook her head with a small smile. “I’m sorry dear. She’s not going to be here today.” Y/n couldn’t hold back the frown that escaped. It was stupid to think that Wanda would come back the very next day, but she had hope. 

And as much as Y/n wanted to ask when she’ll be back, she knew the blood center wouldn’t give out information like that. Regardless, Y/n was determined. She was going to see Wanda again. 

It was a new month and a new day. Although Y/n was glad to help a good cause, her hope waned as each day passed with no Wanda. By now, everyone in the blood center knew Y/n by name. On the bright side, the other volunteers were not bad to talk to but none compared to her. 

So as Y/n sat down once again, she scrolled on her phone, expecting much disappointment. Until the voice that captured her heart called her name. “Y/n?”

She looked up from her phone and saw that familiar smile that was ingrained in her head. “Wanda.” Y/n couldn’t hold her smile back as she finally saw the girl that she’s been begging to see. 

“Looks like you’re here for you…18th donation? Look at you being a star citizen.” Y/n blushed knowing that those donations were mainly for something else. “I think by now you should know the drill. Are there any concerns you may have?”

Wanda looked back at Y/n, ready to disinfect her arm. “I-” Y/n’s brain short circuited at the feeling of Wanda’s hands on her arm. It was like everything that she wanted to say suddenly left her brain. But the feeling was just on the tip of her tongue. 

“You know, they should give you a badge or something for donating so much. I didn’t even know that was possible. Didn’t you start donating like last month?” Again, not a single thought formulated in Y/n’s head when all she could focus on was how soft Wanda’s hands were. Because if Y/n was able to focus, she would be able to say that her donation was 17 days, 13 hours, and 5 minutes ago. But who was counting? 

Wanda looked back at Y/n’s chart to confirm her suspicions. “Are you still scared of needles though?” And that’s when Y/n finally got back into the real world. For all the times she’s been back, she’s had to look away from the needle while using a nearby pillow to control her nerves. 

“I think I might need your magic again.” Y/n blushed at the request but felt proud at the smug look that came from Wanda. “I might have to start charging you for the show.” 

With sudden blind confidence, Y/n asked, “Let me take you out on a date in return.” Wanda almost missed the vein at Y/n’s sudden question. She had an inkling that the girl liked her but never expected her to actually pursue her thoughts. 

“You didn’t even need it.” Y/n looked down and saw that Wanda had poked her without realizing it. 

“Does that mean you won’t go?” Wanda looked at the time on the clock and smiled at Y/n. 

“It actually means you have three hours till my shift is up.” Wanda patted Y/n’s arm, reminding her to squeeze the ball in her hand. “So pick me up then. How should I dress?”

“Something casual. I hadn’t really planned out what I was going to do after you said yes.” Wanda blushed at the idea of Y/n practicing this moment. 

“How about this? You and I walk around New York. I don’t think the guys have given you much of a good tour. So I’ll tell you all about the new New York and you tell me about the old New York.” 

“You have a deal.” 

Wanda and Y/n were in the back seat of an uber. The small date was something Y/n never wanted to end but the lack of energy made it hard to keep up. So when Y/n asked if it could be an early night, she was relieved that Wanda wasn’t mad at her. 

Right now, the uber was at a stoplight and the two hardly spoke as their shoulders touched. 

“Can I hold your hand?” Y/n whispered as she lightly placed her hand above Wanda’s. The small smile was hard to miss on Wanda’s face. She could feel Y/n’s internal battle to ask her that. She leaned into Y/n’s ear and whispered, “You don’t even have to ask,” and pressed a small kiss on Y/n’s cheek as they interlaced hands. 

A small blushed and a wide grin appeared on Y/n’s face. “I hope you had fun today.” Looking away, Y/n yawned into her hand.. “You tired dekta?” 

Looking back at her, Y/n tilted her head in confusion. “Dekta? What does that mean?” Wanda blushed more. She hadn’t meant to call Y/n that, but it left her lips so easily. Like it was second nature. 

“I’ll tell you later,” Wanda placed her left hand on Y/n’s bicep and gave it a small squeeze, “Aren’t you supposed to be a super soldier? It's barely past 10 pm and you’re already tired.” Y/n scratched the back of her neck, slightly embarrassed at how tired she was. But all Wanda could focus on was the feeling of Y/n’s muscles as she gave one more squeeze. 

Y/n yawned again, unable to fight the sleep that took over her body. “It’s what happens when you donate blood every day to try and see a pretty girl.” They hadn’t even kissed but Wanda could’ve sworn she was in love. The dopey smile on Y/n’s face would make any girl’s heart melt. The red head mentally thanked that it was her that Y/n was looking at and nobody else. 

“You did that for me?” Y/n could think of many things she would do for Wanda, rescue a billion people, punch a hole in the moon, even kidnap someone. Regardless of how unrealistic it was, Wanda Maximoff was worth changing the tides on Earth. So how could someone so wonderful could ever question that someone would do something for her attention? 

“I wanted to see you again.” Y/n bit her inner cheek, trying her best to stay calm but all she could think about was how soft Wanda’s lips looked. 

The red head hadn’t meant to hear that thought, but she was glad she did. She bit her lip wishing that Y/n would just kiss her already. But something about the way they stared into each other's eyes was already enough for her to feel alive. And for someone so sober, her body grew drunk at the touch of Y/n. 

“So you donated blood to see me?” It was still all unbelievable to Wanda but Y/n would tell her a million times until she believed it.

Their eyes interlocked causing Wanda’s breathing to hitch. She swore she could look into those brown eyes forever. “18 pints and counting.” Y/n couldn’t hold back her grin as Wanda looked away, unable to hold back her wide smile. 

Y/n gave a gentle squeeze in their interlaced hands as Wanda turned back to face Y/n. “You’re gonna get yourself sick if you keep donating.” Wanting to focus on something else, Y/n caressed Wanda’s cheek as she tucked a loose strand back. 

Not wanting her touch to go away, Wanda placed her hand above Y/n’s. So many thoughts ran through both of their heads. Wanda could feel the weight inside Y/n’s mind but didn’t dare to peak. 

“Tell me what you’re thinking…” 

“...I think you’re really pretty,” Y/n admitted in secret. 

“What else?” Y/n rubbed her thumb gently across Wanda’s cheek. 

“I think I want to take you out on a second date.”

“Oh yeah?”

“And I…I think I want to kiss you.” Wanda swallowed all the nerves in her chest.

“...I’d really like that…” And as brown eyes looked at greens eyes one more time, Y/n slowly leaned in and kissed Wanda. There was no rush with each kiss, something Wanda never experienced before. All she could remember was the sloppy kisses and fast make outs. But something about kissing Y/n slowly drove heart mad because how dare she live this long without being kissed like this. 

And as they kissed, their hands never broke apart, instead, they gave gentle squeezes with every kiss. And when slowly pulled apart, Wanda knew then she was love sick. 

Bonus

“Let me get this straight,” Bucky rubbed his forehead, feeling the headache coming forth, “Y/n passed out from kissing you?” 

“Well, the kissing didn’t help but she also donated 18 pints of blood in the last three weeks.” Wanda looked at Y/n’s sleeping figure. Her head rested comfortably on Wanda’s lap. 

Bucky sighed. “Okay, I’ll meet you at her place.” 

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[myfictionaldreams]

Day 30: Freeuse - Winter Soldier

Summary: He was your patient. You were in charge of making sure all of his needs were met, no matter what they were.

Warnings/Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, non-consensual elements, dubious content, freeuse, discussion of injuries, violence, masturbation, fingering, voyeurism, exhibitionism, stalking (kinda), possessive

masterlist 📚 

kinktober masterlist😈 

AO3 Link 

He was your priority. Hydra had recruited you with the hopes of creating an experiment to see if anyone could be trained to look after the assassin frozen in a Cyrogentic state. You were trained and kept underground to be the lead carer and doctor for the Winter Soldier. He was yours to look after, physically and mentally. After each mission you sent him on, he’d return and give you the reports. Most importantly, you were always the first face he’d see before and after being on the ice.

The Soldier would answer to you and Alexander Pierce, but even that was touchy sometimes as he would look to you before answering Pierces’ questions as if he was asking for permission to talk. 

What’s more, is that you knew who he was outside of his assassin's status. James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes, born in 1917, was the best friend to the one and only Captain America, Steve Rogers, who was currently alive, having been found in the ice and unbeknown to him, his best friend was also alive with similar super solider serum pumping through his veins. Steve was Bucky’s potential saviour; one day, you hoped to be there when this could become a reality; however, currently, you were watched so closely by everyone in Hydra that you’d not even been able to contemplate a plan as to how to break him out. Until then, he was your priority, keeping him out of harm's way as much as possible.

Alexander Pierce had given you strict instructions to adhere to every single need that may affect or alter the soldier's performance as the ghostly assassin. At first, you just assumed it was to feed him, wash, cut his hair, make sure he was healthy and metal arm was working to its best ability. But the basic human need for the Winter Soldier ran deeper than that, causing your role as his doctor and carer to be blurred and something more developed.

The longer he was out of the ice, the more you would notice his increasing frustrations that couldn’t be erased with a simple afternoon in the gym or sparring with other guards. There were even days when no one could calm him down, his aggression so high that he had to be sedated if you were not available to talk to him.

For example, there was once a day when you were actually off of the unit, in your new flat, having just been granted the allowance to live there when Rumlow came knocking on your door. He only gave you the courtesy of putting on your shoes before gripping your upper arm and dragging you to the office.

When you arrived, the rooms were in disarray. Equipment smashed, blood and unconscious bodies trying to be aided too. It was a mess, and you were more nearly barging down the door to get to him, shouting for the guards to stand down and leave him to you. Yes, he was a highly trained assassin, but with the trust he held in you, there was no way he would intentionally harm you.

The underground room had no windows, which you were thankful for as they would have been destroyed in his rampage. You were only dressed in your joggers and a vest top, trainers already marked with red streaks from the puddles you’d walked through. It felt like your heart would escape your mouth with how erratic it was pounding in your chest as you tried to take in his appearance.

The shirt he had previously been wearing was now ripped to shreds on the floor. The tactical trousers had tears throughout but still seemed to be held together enough that he was indecent, and combat boots that gleamed with smudges where he’d been kicking objects and people. Each of his knuckles were busted in their own way. The flesh hand was cut, and the metal fist was red with other people's blood.

You’d not seen him become this erratic since he’d been out of his cryogenic state for too long, and his memories began to return to him as he questioned his entire existence. Whereas for this example, he’d only been defrosted for several days and shouldn’t have had any cognitive issues.

Stepping closer with your hands raised to show you meant no threat, you asked in a clear, concise voice, “Soldier? Where is the threat?”

His height seemed to tower over yours, more so than usual, as he turned his deathly glare towards you. The hulking muscles of his shoulders heaved with each breath he took as if he was out of breath, which was a rare occasion as he could run for miles and continue to breathe steadily, unaffected by the strenuous exercise. Your question was supposed to help identify what his issue was, hoping he’d find you being there to create a safe space for him, but the angry charge of his massive body had you flinching back in shock.

The warm hand of his wrapped around your throat, using the momentum of his steps to push you back up against the wall. Your hands remained up, even though you were itching to tear at his wrist to relieve some pressure. He wasn’t squeezing hard enough that you were struggling to breathe, but it was still uncomfortable and unnerving.

Your mind was working on overdrive, trying to think of a way to ease the stress he was going through. Your eyes searched over his body, starting with his head and face, but there were only minor scratches and grazes from the fights. Lower your eyes explore his arms and chest until they halted, seeing something that had never been through your consideration.

His tactical pants were tented, showing the outline of his hard-on, raging just as violently as the blue of his eyes. Was this the issue of his anger? The soldier shifted his stance, hand twitching towards his crotch like he was going to move himself to be more comfortable, but stopped as he watched you closely.

Alexander Pierce had once told you that whatever the Soldier wanted or needed, you were to give it to him to ensure that he was performing to his best abilities. You cursed to yourself quietly, unsure if this was even plausible or right to do. Of course, it wasn’t right to do. He was a prisoner in his own body, but you were his doctor, and you had a job to do.

“It’s okay. I know what will help you. I’ll show you how to get rid of the pain; I won’t touch you, I promise”.

From there, you were able to explain anatomy, the ache throbbing through his abdomen and how he could relieve himself. He did. Right there in front of you, his pants by his knees and cock in hand until he came on your shoes.

You didn’t so much as blink or flinch at the action. He didn’t understand that it wasn't appropriate to cum on someone's shoes or to masturbate in a somewhat public scenario. It calmed him down enough that you could push him back onto a chair and fix the injuries that were already mostly healed.

These situations only continued to escalate, which occurred more often than not. However, the Winter Soldier only touched himself when you were around, and you were unsure if it was because you made him feel safe or for other reasons that Rumlow liked to hiss in your ear, saying that the deadly assassin had a crush on his favourite doctor.

You blew it off as gossip and nasty rumours, unprofessional at most.

This only lasted for a few months before you noticed the changes in the Soldier, and it all came to a head one night as he turned up at your apartment after a mission. You hadn’t even told him your address, and he wasn’t due back from the mission for another 24 hours, but there he was, at the end of the bed, having snuck through the window as you were halfway through having some intimate time yourself.

Your fingers were between your legs, eyes closed, and your head tipped back, not covering your moans as you didn’t think you’d need to as you were living by yourself. The assassin watched, confusion causing his brows to furrow, head tilted to the side as his fists clenched. 

The look on your face was one he’d never seen before, and he noticed the anatomy was different to his. Of course, he was aware that not everyone had the same genitals as his, but it hadn’t crossed his mind that it could be touched like this.

The only time you were aware of his presence was when the bed dipped, your eyes snapping open and legs closing as you released an almighty scream that caused the Soldier to flinch.

“Mine”, he muttered under his breath, grabbing your ankle and dragging you closer.

“What? Soldier, what are you doing here? When did you- please stop” he paused his attempts to drag you closer as he was half crawling over your body. You were trying to remain calm, but he was acting so possessive, and why was he even here? How did he get in?

“Mine”, he repeated above you again, eyes trained between your legs.

You were at a loss for words, feeling both confused and safe simultaneously, even with someone as dangerous as this. The night was one that definitely crossed the line for professionalism.

The Winter Soldier was so interested in your masturbation and different genitals that he practically begged you to continue, shouting mine and gazing at your intimate area until you continued.

You came, and then the Soldier unbuckled his belt and ejaculated over your stomach, and this was the turning point of the relationship. Your job now seemed to be a half doctor, half a sexual release. Masturbation escalated into hands in underwear until there was no point holding back the restraint, and the two of you were fucking.

It was challenging to wrap your head around, especially when the two of you were in the work environment, but if it was what he wanted and needed that you were more than happy to be face pushed into the wall, trousers and underwear by your ankles and cock shoving so far into your cunt that you saw stars.

The most significant issue was that, even though none of the workers commented on it, they all knew the sex was occurring. Mainly because the Winter Soldier didn’t seem to understand that this was supposed to be something that was for ‘behind closed doors’ and out of view of the guards and other doctors. To him, if he was to push you over the table and whisper “mine”, then this was enough warning that he wanted to fuck, even if you were unfathomably embarrassed that your coworkers had to watch you coming undone to the man they were all looking after.

The worst time had to have been when Alexander Pierce came strolling into the ‘jail’ they kept the Soldier in during his downtime. Multiple guards were surrounding him, and three doctors in lab coats were working tirelessly around the room. You’d been in there for hours. Warm, tired and ready to eat whatever take-out you could encounter on the drive home later that night.

With Pierces’ presence, however, your posture straightened, and you tried to remain as professional as possible. This was a feat easier said than done as The Soldier eyed you from across the room, staring with his unblinking glare. Eventually, he pushed past Pierce, the guards all raising their guns expecting a fight, but there was none to have as the metal fingers of his specially made hand eased into the front of your work trousers, plain underwear and pushed into your cunt.

“What are you doing?! Now is not the time and place- Ah fuck!”. There was nothing other than a hand over your mouth that could have stopped the moan pitching from your lips as his thumb circled your clit. You’d not been at all aroused, but he had learned enough about your body to know the exact way to stimulate your bundle of nerves and curl his fingers inside of you to stroke that beautiful spot that had you whimpering without any restraint.

As he pleasured you in front of all your colleagues, there was nothing you could do but painfully grip on to his metal forearm. He didn’t even smile or mutter a single word as he made you orgasm with a knee-buckling euphoria. It seemed he was just in the mood to hear your whines as he turned around and sat back in front of Pierce, who was looking between the two of you.

“It seems things have changed through here. I’m glad you have been able to … satisfy the Asset by any means necessary”.

You tried not to visibly cringe with the way he had worded it as you tried to straighten your clothes and continue with the work you had been completing before. Nothing further was thankfully said as he was given his next mission, and you were left to continue working for a further three hours with underwear that was utterly soaked due to his wandering fingers.

[my-darling-boy]

(TW injury description)

I am SO glad you asked I lose my mind over this man. Sidney Beldam! He’s most known for his miraculous recovery from a major facial injury sustained while he served as a young sergeant in the First World War. If you’ve read the Facemaker by Lindsay Fitzharris you might recognise him! Sources differ slightly about his story, so I’ve pieced it together as best I could. The photos below were from about February 1919!

Born in 1897, Sidney was about 17 living with his mother in Cambridge, England when the Great War commenced. While he didn’t enlist initially, he was soon conscripted when it came about in 1916 though thankfully he was in a non-combatant role driving lorries transporting soldiers to boats headed for France. It’s where he learned he enjoyed driving! However in April 1917, Sidney was transferred to the Machine Gun Corps and eventually rose to the rank of sergeant where only 7 months later, his life would change forever.

During the battle of Passchendaele, one of the muddiest most gruelling segments of the war, Sidney was on the frontlines when a shell burst, sending a shrapnel fragment tearing diagonally through his nose and the right side of his face. The young soldier collapsed face first into the mud which ended up saving his life as falling backwards would have caused him to choke on his own blood. For three days Sidney laid in a mangled heap floating in and out of consciousness while vermin scurried about his body and the other dead and wounded around him. No one would ever know the details of those agonising three days, but the trauma he experienced there left him with a lifelong phobia of rats and cockroaches. After the initial wounded had been cleared out, a wandering band of stretcher bearers discovered Sidney alive after one man touched him with his boot fully expecting him to be dead. Miraculously, he was still clinging to life.

The 19 year old sergeant was rushed down the line and then transferred to two different military hospitals where his wounds were hastily stitched in an effort to save his life before infection could spread. Unfortunately, closing the gap where he was missing flesh in his cheek caused his upper lip to be pulled into a sneer and a sunken depression formed where most of his nose was missing around the bridge. Still, he was lucky to be alive, which he later used to remark. Well he was luckier still as he would be transferred to Sidcup military hospital in Kent where he would become a patient under Sir Harold Gillies, the man often considered the pioneer of modern plastic surgery. When he arrived at hospital in 1918, his wounds were healed but his face still bore the heavy trauma of his experience. If you want to see his photographs upon arrival, I won’t post them here but if you search his name, the photos are everywhere. IMO they’re not graphic but I know it can upset some people.

Gillies went to work trying to restore Sidney’s face. This required him to reopen the wound in his cheek where a skin flap was grafted to allow his upper lip to return to normal. He also folded down a skin flap from his forehead in order to create a new nose. Behind his facade, a series of tubes and canals had to be inserted for proper sinus drainage and other unnamed functions. While his initial handful of surgeries did most of the work to reconstruct his face, Sidney underwent over 40 surgeries between 1918 and the 1930s, some reconstructive and some to evacuate the tubes behind the flesh, meaning the common cold was a routinely painful affliction for him. Gillies understood operations were traumatic for the men at Sidcup, especially since most required more than one, and so made a point about creating a lighthearted ward environment, one Sidney says was quite jolly with the staff doing everything they could to make them feel comfortable and dignified as possible. And while I thought the topmost photos were the most updated case study photos for his recovery, I stumbled upon another set from 1920 in the Faces of War by Andrew Bamji I have not seen posted anywhere!

And lads listen. In such a sweet little twist, while Sidney was still recovering from the bulk of his major surgeries, a local pianist by the name of Winifred volunteered to play for the resting servicemen, all of whom had some form of disfigurment or amputation. Carrying in her sheet music, she and Sidney laid eyes on each other for the first time and she later remarked how his smile instantly lit up the whole room! For them, it was love at first sight. The two were soon married, and although it was in the 1920s, I don’t have an exact year for this. This most likely came after Sidney was finally discharged from service in 1921. There is a photo of their wedding and y’all look how SWEET!!

Between his initial surgeries and army discharge, Gillies asked if Sidney would be his personal chauffeur, an offer he took up quickly as he loved driving from his time with lorries during the war. One somewhat humorous account tells of Gillies—who was a bit scattered at times—asking Sidney to renew his driver’s license as the surgeon left it until the last day to take care of; Sidney in a rush waited in a long line at the county hall before jumping the queue and begging the administrator to expedite his employer’s license as it was needed to drive him to the hospital the next day. The man refused, even for a surgeon to get him to his patients. Sidney went to another staff member who was friends with Gillies and begged him the same. The man cheerily agreed but was still in need of a signature from the stubborn administrator who again refused... at least until he found out Harold Gillies nearly won a golfing championship, at which point he took Sidney to his personal office to expedite the license as he was happy to do business for a skilled golfer (apparently saving people’s lives doesn’t matter as much??). A no doubt perplexed Sidney was finally able to get back to the hospital on time!

After his army discharge and most likely about the time of his marriage, Sidney moved back to Cambridge where he worked for the council as a rent collector. He was so well liked, apparently even from the people he collected from, that he soon worked his way to Housing Manager for Cambridge. About this time, he had a daughter, Pam. Every account I read of him, people gush about how sweet he was. His wife recalls how Sidney was always adored by all his family and friends. His granddaughter Marilyn McInnes in an interview said, “He was the most warm and optimistic and loving man. I adored my grandfather, I was constantly on his lap as a small child. I never noticed anything funny about his face, I guess I thought all grandads looked like mine.”

Sadly, Sidney Beldam passed away from cancer at about 80 years old in 1978. But considering the man was given 6 months to live and ended up living for 60 years more surrounded by a large and loving family, I’d say he certainly had a full life. There is a picture of him and his wife in the 60s and they are absolutely charming!!

But anyway that’s me done rambling I’ve a massive crush on him. His story makes me genuinely happy to tell and I’m so glad you asked!

[questionableratatouille00]

𝘐 𝘋𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘒𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘛𝘰 𝘚𝘢𝘺 (𝘖𝘳 𝘋𝘰.)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: You’d never understood why Bucky never seemed interested in physical intimacy. When you find out, you realize it goes deeper than you ever thought.

Note: For my ‘Don’t Touch Me’ square on my @marvel-smash-bingo card!

Warnings: rape/non-con, sexual abuse, nightmares, ptsd, Hydra Themes, implied Hydra Trash Party, insecure!reader(?), crying, angst.

[Series Masterlist]

Your sex life was not bad in these last few months you’ve been dating Bucky. That wasn’t to say it was particularly good, either.

You hadn’t had sex with him at all. You hadn’t even got past a little bit of making out. And there was nothing wrong with that, either. Maybe he was just shy. And he was a real quiet guy when he was around anybody but you, so you knew that that was a possibility.

He was also born in 1917, so there could be just more of an awkwardness around the topic for him. You obviously had no idea what Sex Ed was like in the 1930s, but you knew that it definitely wasn’t great.

Maybe he just wasn’t interested in sex at all. And that was perfectly fine, too. He could be asexual. Or gray-asexual. Or demisexual. And you were by no means a homophobe. If he wasn’t into it, he wasn’t into it and that was that. You would certainly not be upset or—God forbid—angry over something like that.

But the thing that plagued your mind after he ran off somewhere after kissing you for a little too long was the why. He’d never said a word about sexual attraction—you’d never had that conversation before. You didn’t really know how to bring it up.

Part of you wondered if you were the problem. Was he just not attracted to you? Was there just one tiny detail on you that completely made him not want you in that way? Fuck, did you smell bad?

You pushed the thought away. But you did know that you needed to have this discussion with him. Mainly in case that last reason was it.

As if right on cue, he walked into the kitchen of your apartment.

“Hey, doll.” He smiled, wrapping his arms around you and swaying you from side to side.

“Howdy howdy. I didn’t hear you come in.” You grinned. “You’ll give me a heart attack one day.”

“Sorry,” he replied sheepishly.

The rest of the night went on as usual. At least, until halfway through the night—perhaps early morning—when you were awoken by the sound of muttering.

Now, to be very honest, you thought about muttering ‘shut up’ back, before you remembered that you were a real person and not a dinosaur like you’d been dreaming about.

You sat up, looking over at your boyfriend. Another bad dream.

You kneeled above him, opening your mouth to say something to wake him up. And once again, as if on cue, he woke up. He sat up quickly, bonking you in the head with his own skull.

“Fuck—“ You hissed as your eyes watered slightly. ���Bucky, you’re okay, you’re okay, it was a dream, it’s over.” You attempted to reassure him as you reached out.

“Don’t touch me,” he pleaded. “Don’t touch me. Please.” The way he said it made your stomach flip.

“I’m not.” You promised. “I won’t. I won’t. You’re okay, you’re safe. It’s me. Jus’ me and you.”

He seemed to relax at that as he laid back down. And then—very surprisingly—fell right back asleep.

Normally his nightmares were more of a major thing, so this was certainly a surprise. You frowned, before you yourself eventually fell back asleep.

The next morning, you woke up alone, with the faint smell of breakfast coming in through the room. You walked out of your bedroom and to the kitchen, greeting your boyfriend.

“Mornin’,” you hummed.

“Good morning, doll. Did you sleep good?” He asked innocently, as if he didn’t remember the night’s…revelations.

“Yeah.” You murmured back. And then you decided to finally grow some balls and ask.

“Bucky? Can I talk to you about something serious?”

“Sure.” His brows furrowed slightly. “Always, hon. What’s goin’ on?”

“Is there a reason you don’t want to have sex with me?”

He practically turned to stone.

“What?” He croaked out.

“There’s nothing wrong about it! I’m just—it’s stupid. I’m sorry, I’m being an asshole. Never mind—“ You wanted to simultaneously beat the absolute shit out of yourself and bury yourself.

“No, you’re not.” He cut you off. “I—should’ve told you earlier. About this. It’s—it’s not you, I promise. I..I want to have..sex with you and all of that stuff. I do, really. It’s just—there’s..some stuff.”

Your brows furrowed as you took on a concerned and empathetic expression. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

“No, it’s—it’s okay. I do. It’s important to me that I tell you.” He explained. “But—it gets kinda heavy. Are you okay with..hearing all of that?”

You nodded. “Yes, babe. I am.”

“When I was—when I was the Winter Soldier, HYDRA would torture me. You know that. They’d…’punish’ and ‘train’ me in ways that..fucked me up. Clearly. One of those ways was through sex.” He admitted, fiddling with his hands.

Your mouth went dry. You didn’t really know what to say. Or to do, even. Did you comfort him? Say anything at all?

“I know you would never do that to me. I promise—I’m positive and comfortable in the fact that you wouldn’t ever do anything to me without my permission.” He assured you, making eye contact. “You’ve made it perfectly clear that I can say ‘no’ and can make my own decisions without any form of punishment.”

You nodded slowly.

“But it’s just—it’s hard, y’know? Like, how I get all..jumpy and ‘PTSD-y’ on the Fourth of July because of the fireworks. It’s like that, but with..sex, and being naked and stuff like that. It doesn’t have anything to do with the Fourth of July, just like it doesn’t have anything to do with you. It’s just..a thing that happens in those circumstances.” He explained. “I don’t—I’m sorry. I don’t want to be like this, I promise.”

You could see his nose was getting red and his eyes were beginning to water.

“I don’t want to be broken.” He blinked away some tears, wiping the ones that escaped his eyes with the side of his hand.

“Baby, no. Oh, baby. No, you’re not broken. Honey, you’re not. I promise.” You comforted. You opened your arms for a hug and he wrapped his arms around you.

When he was ready, he continued. “It was mostly men. There weren’t any women in HYDRA up until like..2010. But sometimes they’d sell me—and I mean literally sell me—off to certain powerful women for a variety of purposes. And I didn’t have a choice.” He murmured.

“I know, baby. It wasn’t your fault. None of that was ever your fault.” You said softly.

He nodded slowly. “I do..want that. I want to do that with you, it’s just—it’s hard.”

“I know. Thank you for telling me. And we can take it slow. And if you realize you’re not into it at all—no shame. No judgement. Not from me.” You promised.

He nodded. “Dr. Raynor—when she was my therapist she..she uh, pushed on the subject.” He confessed. Your brows furrowed.

“She what?”

“I was mad about it then. And I still think she could’ve gone about it in better ways, but she gave me something useful, so..at least there’s that.” He hummed. “She suggested showering and taking baths together. For..non-sexual intimacy.”

“You wanna try that?” You met his eyes, the beautiful blue eyes that captivated you.

He nodded slowly. “If you're comfortable with it, yeah.”

“Okay. We can try that, babe.” You pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“I love you.” He murmured. You’d heard him say it before, you’d worked your way up to it, but neither one of you really wanted to hold back that feeling from each other.

“I love you too. No matter what.” You swore.

A/n: two Oneshots on the same day? Shocking, I know. Really wanted to bring hydra trash party and reader insert fics together. This was low key inspired by me and an ex (we’re on good terms dw), and it feels very important to me.

Please reblog if you enjoyed!

Sequel here!

dividers by @saradika-graphics

[artthatgivesmefeelings]

John William Waterhouse RA (Italian-born English, 1849-1917) Boreas, 1903

[writingchalamet]

Angels Like You

This is part 1 of my new Bucky series, taking place just after FATWS, Sam and Bucky are visiting Sarah when they meet her neighbour Y/n, who happens to catch Bucky's eye, the rest you'll have to find out...

Slow burn, eventual smut.

2.4k words

Warnings: Angst, Swearing, mentions of graphic physical abuse, fluff, y/n has a child

Please do not read if you find these topics upsetting or triggering, my inbox is always open for any messages 🧡

Chapter 1

Bucky's ears tingled with the sound of Cass and Aj's voices echoing through the house as they played, along with the clatter of feet smacking against the wood floors and laughter. A smile crept its way to Bucky's face as himself and Sam walked down the drive to Sarah's house, upon hearing the chaos that ensued inside. The sun beamed down in golden streams lighting the path towards the house, that's when he saw her, sitting on the front lawn with Sarah, smile on her face, eyes gleaming and laughing along with something Sarah had said to her. He felt it instantly in his chest, his heart stopped for a minute.

"You okay, Cyborg?" Sam nudged his vibranium arm arching his brow in question. "Yeah, yeah sorry, thought I forgot my keys but we're good" Sam side eyed him but continued down the path to the house.

"Sam! Bucky! Hey! Kids your uncle Sam is here!" Sarah called out to the boys, rising from her seated position from the floor, her unknown companion says something about drinks and heads inside, not before turning her head and nodding towards the two men. "Hey baby sis" Sam engulfs her in a hug as the pair reach, her reply about not being a baby is muffled by Sam's chest which gains a laugh from Bucky. "How are you guys doing?" Bucky asks as they split, nodding his head towards the house.

"You know, we're good, busy as ever, the kids miss their uncle though" she nudges Sam. "Hey, not just anyone can be Captain America, think of the street cred those kids will get" Sarah and Bucky both roll their eyes scoffing in unison. "Anyway I have a question, who was your hot friend that was sitting with you?" Sam wiggled his eyebrows smirking looking back towards the house, where you could be seen in the kitchen window making a pitcher of lemonade.

"Sam! That's my friend Y/n, she lives next door, and she has a bakery in town" She sighed as she answered knowing she couldn't avoid the question. "Yeah, yeah okay, but is she single" Sam enquired rather pointedly. "Not for you, she's not, stay away Sam! I'm serious she got out of a real bad relationship and she doesn't want to date!" Bucky couldn't help but feel his own heart break a bit, he didn't know what was wrong with him, he hadn't even met you. Just as Sam was about respond, no doubt some witty comment about being the hero to sweep you off your feet, the sound of the front door opening interrupted them, Cass and AJ came out carrying a pitcher and glasses placing them on the outdoor table before pouncing towards their uncle and his friend. But Bucky couldn't keep his eyes off the front door as you emerged with a little boy attached to your hip, he pointed at the sky and muttered something as your pointed back a smile adorning your face as you approached the group.

"Hey" you breathed out as you reached everyone, standing next to Bucky, you couldn't help but feel judged as you felt his strong gaze unwavering on you and your son. You didn't know much about Bucky, just what Sarah had told you, the former Winter Solder turned good guy, born in 1917, Hydra captive then the Wakandans broke his trigger words or something like that. But why was he staring at you, was it because there was no apparent ring on your ring finger and you had a baby, you knew he was from a different time but surely he didn't think so outdated. "Hi, I'm Bucky" he extends his had to you, you shake it nervously, unwrapping one arm from your child to do so. "Y/n".

"Hi I'm Sam, and who's this little guy?" Sam gives you a wave, then tilts his head smiling at the boy in your arms, who buries his head in your chest at the sudden attention. "Oh this is Forrest, you gonna say hi baby" you tickle the babies belly erupting the sweetest giggle from him as he nuzzles further into your chest, "sorry he's shy around new people" you smile stroking his curls away from his eyes. "Aw just like you Bucky" Sam laughs which earns him a smack from Sarah. "How old is he" Bucky asks quietly, still not looking away from you, "He's one and half" this time you speak directly to Bucky turning more and meeting his eyes, it's then you realise the soft smile he wears across his face as he looks rather intently at you.

As you turn towards him, Bucky takes notice of your face, committing it to memory, he notes every line, freckle, the way your smile curves, the slight indentations in your cheeks as you do, the way your nose crinkles as you look at your son, how your eyes seem to brighten when you talk about him, then he notices a small scar on the side of your face above your eyebrow, how the jagged little line fades into the skin. He spots another faded scar like it on your hand as you continue to brush back the babes hair away from his face. Forrest points up to the sky and excitedly squeaks "bird" as one flies overhead. Bucky again couldn't help but make another mental note, this time of the way the baby who very much resembled his mother, and how his little face lit up at the sight.

"Oh well done Forrest, bird!" Sarah came forwards enthusiastically clapping her hands pointing to the sky. "Bird! Bird! brr brrr brrr-" Forrest continued to babble away to himself, pointing to the sky at the birds. "Bird was his first word, that's pretty much all he says besides mama and bye, he loves birds" you laugh bouncing him on your hip. "Oh Sam he'd love you in your bird costume!" Sarah jokes, Sam however who's eyes seem to pop out of their sockets at the comment does not find it funny, while Bucky laughs. "Costume! it's a suit, a suit that saves the world I'll have you know! bird costume.." he tuts kissing his teeth.

"Well I think your bird costume is cool uncle Sam" AJ pipes in. "Me too" Cass adds though is overlapped by a heavily frustrated Sam "-it's not a bird costume!! you know what, next time any of you guys need saving I'm leaving y'all to fend for yourselves. pfft bird costu-" his rant was cut short by Sarah "Well that's not true and you know it, you love me big brother, kids get in on this" Sam is soon bundled to the floor by Sarah and the kids piling on top of him all of them laughing harmoniously.

"Okay as much as I want to stay I have to get this little angel down for his nap, so I'll head back to mine, thanks for letting us play guys" You shout at the group hearing a faint 'okay love you' from Sarah under all the laughing. You turn to Bucky and smile, "It was nice to meet you Bucky, maybe see you again sometime" this time you extend your hand to him which he took in a heartbeat. Smoothing his thumb over the soft skin as he stands a little taller nodding. "Yeah it was great meeting you guys, bye Forrest" he turns his attention towards the tired toddler in your arms who sleepily lifts his hand giving Bucky a small wave goodbye, making the old mans heart skip a few beats. "Bye Bucky" you gently let your hand slip from his holding eye contact with him for just a few more seconds before daring to tare yourself away.

As you carry yourself down the driveway, one thing you were certain of. Bucky had made your heart melt in just a few small moments.

Bucky and Sam had been staying with Sarah for two nights now. The pair of them loving the 'uncle duties' as Sam liked to call it, playing with the kids while Sarah worked, showing them how to fly Redwing and dangling off Uncle Bucky trying to take him to the ground. Buck wouldn't admit it, but he secretly loved how the kids had taken to him so quickly. the thought of being a part of a family especially one with kids seemed so far out of reach, so he appreciated Sam for letting him join his. However, he did feel a tinge of disappointment over the fact that you had not been over to visit since the first day they had arrived. Sure, he had caught a glance of you cooking in your own kitchen window when they were on their way out yesterday afternoon, and sure you heard a commotion through your open window looking up in an instant hoping to catch a glimpse of a certain blue eyed beauty, eyes meeting for only a second before you had to tear them away to check your toddler wasn’t playing with knives or anything. Bucky again felt the small pang of rejection in his chest as you looked away just as quickly as you looked at him.

Over dinner that evening Bucky was surprised it was Sam that brought you up as a topic of conversation clearly reading the signals that he had wanted to know more about you without seeming nosy. “So, your friend Y/n” Sam suggested the topic after swallowing a mouthful of beer, finding the confidence, Bucky instantly perked up, waiting to see what Sarah would say. She only tilted her head to the side cocking an eyebrow. “What about her Sam” there was a brief pause, Sam looked between Sarah and Bucky, “You know, what’s her deal” he took another swig of his drink feeling slightly under pressure. The man could fight evil and not break a sweat but ask his sister a challenging question and the boy would crack. “Her deal is none of your business Sam” Sarah stated matter of factly. “Oh, common Sarah, we’re just curious” Sarah huffs and sits back in her seat looking between the two men. Bucky gives her a subtle nod letting her know it’s okay.

“If either of you say anything to her, I will beat you both senseless, got it!” she points across the table at both the men sitting next to each other. Bucky and Sam raise their hands in unison, the sight quite comical for Sarah.

“I told you she got out of a bad relationship, but I didn’t say how bad. She moved from Wyoming to get away from him, she was with him for years, he’d keep her locked in the house, put her in the hospital god knows how many times, but she was too terrified to press charges against him. Then she got pregnant and it got worse, she told me he said he was gonna kill her and the baby and she finally left while he was at work one day, got in the car and drove for a day straight until she got here, she didn’t know anyone, she was living out of her car, I let her stay at mine when I met her and found out what happened and got her in contact with her family again and they helped her buy her house and open her store, she used to have a café back in Wyoming before she met Matt, but he made her sell it, asshole. But anyway she has a restraining order against him but he keeps showing up here, we don’t know how he found out she lives down here, but he keeps coming and waiting for her outside her shop across the street and just stares at her, we don’t know if he lives in town now or if he just travels here to shake her down then goes back, but the guy is nuts.” Sarah’s chest felt heavy as she released the intel on her best friend, she couldn’t read the faces of her brother and Bucky, something distinguishable between disgust and regret of asking on Sams face but Bucky she could practically hear the gears turning in his Vibranium arm as he clenched his fist, nostrils flared and jaw tight, the man looked ready to fight.

“Have you guys not called the police about harassment” Bucky all but snarled. “Yeah, but they said they can’t do anything as he has never breached his restraining order, he’s not allowed within one hundred feet of her or Forrest and no contact is to be made, and so far he’s not done that, he’s never even met Forrest, I don’t think he’s ever seen him, he just sits on a wall in town opposite her shop, and the police say that’s not harmful and no means for arrest, or some shit like that I don’t know.” Sarah shook her head again at the thought.

“That’s bullshit” Bucky’s hand hit into the table with force causing the drinks to knock over and spill. Sarah let out a little yelp at the sudden boom of his voice. “Ah sorry” already picking up the classes and reaching for napkins and cleaning the mess. “Maybe we could hire her a bodyguard? What about Torres, I bet he’d love it!” Sam piped up again nodding to Bucky with a grin on his face. “She doesn’t need a baby sitter, what she needs is the police to do their job and arrest the creep who threatened her and her sons life multiple times but is still somehow walking around scott free” Sarah’s words seem to hit a nerve with Bucky, as he rises from the table storming towards the exit.

The thought of you in danger kept Bucky awake all night, not that he ever got much sleep anyway, but you and Forrest were keeping him up more than usual and he found it near maddening. Deciding to take things into his own hands the next day, he asked Sarah if you would be home, after finding out you would be in your Bakery he was very excited to pay you a visit, though that excitement soon turned to dread at the sight of a man having you pressed against the wall with his hands around your neck, while screaming in your face through the window of your shop. Matt had picked the wrong day to break his restraining order, and Bucky sure was happy of his saviour complex.

[halogen2]

photos of trans man philanthropist Reed Erickson (born in 1917, transitioned in 1963, died in 1992) from the Digital Transgender Archive