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rosepetalsinwinter · 1 year

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Look At Me — Bucky Barnes

Pairing: 40s!bucky x nurse!reader

Word count: 11,951

Summary: She never expected to fall so deeply for Sergeant James "Bucky" Barnes, what with his skirt-chasing tendencies and cocky personality. Except how was she to know war would change everything she thought she wanted? Suddenly, she wanted him.

Warnings: angst, violence, WW2, slow burn, enemies to friends to lovers, friends to lovers, enemies to lovers, death, torture, whump, HYDRA, post-serum Steve Rodgers, kissing, angst with happy ending. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK

Note: I got a little carried away... oops. Anyway, happy reading!

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"We'll set up camp here. The sun's getting low, and it's not safe to travel at night. We'll freeze to death if we try." James "Bucky" Barnes flung his pack to the ground and stretched his aching limbs over his head, sore from walking all day.

The infantry had left camp early that morning, just before dawn. They were to travel across the Eastern Italian border and meet the British battalion just south of Azzano. General McGinnis planned to march with a regiment of his own a week after news of the 107th's safe arrival reached camp.

"Should I start a fire, Sergeant?" Private Andrew Eaton asked, rubbing his hands together. The sun was setting, spreading a soft glow over the snow-ridden forest. "Warm us up?" His eyes flicked toward the girl, and she stiffened under his gaze.

She was a nurse, travelling with the soldiers because of her immaculate record. She had never lost a man before; one could be on the brink of death and would survive if she got her hands on them. Her expertise was unmatched and desperately needed on the Eastern Front, where the allies were losing men at an alarming rate.

Bucky shook his head. "We're too close to enemy lines. The smoke will draw attention, and we can't risk that."

Multiple eyes drifted to the nurse's shivering form, some filled with pity, others with concern. She had not once complained about the walk nor the temperature, but she was no soldier. Everyone knew her body was at risk of collapse; unaccustomed to the harsh terrain of the Dolomite Mountains, her back hunched with the weight of her pack, her eyes drooped with fatigue, cheeks crimson with cold and body trembling.

Mimicking Bucky, she, too, flung her bag on the frozen soil and dropped unceremoniously on it, finally giving in to her exhaustion.

"You sure about that, Sergeant Barnes?" Eaton questioned. The girl widened her eyes in alarm. It was one thing to hold the soldiers back with her slow pace and decreased stamina, another to put them all in danger. "Maybe we should risk it."

Typically, questioning a superior officer was inappropriate and inexcusable, but not one person reacted negatively to the Private's question. Murmurs of approval spread through the men.

Bucky turned toward the nurse, taking in her form. Like the rest of his soldiers, he also worried for the girl—more than he should have. She did not have any endurance training. She had not even left the relative safety of the camp until now, and it took everything in Bucky to stop himself from carrying her back to base camp, where she would be safe from the threat of gunfire and death.

He opened his mouth—to either agree with Eaton or disagree with him—no one could know. The girl chose that moment to let go of her hesitations. "I once spent an entire night out in the streets of France with just a pair of gloves and a tattered jacket," she rushed out. At the confused looks, she clarified, "in the middle of December." More looks. "In negative twenty-five-degree weather..." her voice was slowly tapering into shyness. "I am alive, am I not?"

"How much is that in Fahrenheit, Miss?" And the conversation moved forward.

The soldiers insisted on lighting at least a small fire for the girl's sake, igniting one under the cover of the dense coniferous trees. While the men began to set up camp for the night, Bucky stood there with a puckered brow and a frown marring his features, before shaking his head and helping them.

The nurse decided she would not be the one to risk them all. After another twenty minutes or so of bickering, she finally lost her temper. "You might as well know by now; I'm inherently stubborn, and nothing any of you say or do will change my mind."

After that, a perimeter was established, lookouts were posted, and tents were begrudgingly set up. Some soldiers retired to rest while others passed down alcohol, huddled against each other to conserve heat.

"It'll warm you up." Bucky sat down next to the shivering girl on a collapsed, decaying tree. He thrust a flask toward her mouth, urging her to drink from it. He took a sip when she made no move, clearing his throat and asking her again. "Will you drink some?"

His voice was sweet and kind, and she despised it. She pursed her lips in response and leaned away. "No, thank you," she replied while her teeth chattered.

Bucky frowned in annoyance. Her stubbornness, which he usually found amusing, was turning out to be somewhat of a hindrance.

"Sorry, doll, but it wasn't a question." He thrust the flask toward her once more, belligerent in his attempt.

She leaned farther away, and Bucky followed her, trapping her against the tree. "No, thank you. You know I don't drink alcohol—."

"Yes!" he suddenly grew frustrated and ran a trembling hand through his brown locks. Somehow the girl always managed to get on his nerve. "I know you don't drink, alright? And I know you hate cursing, that you're stubborn as hell, and that you talk funny because 'proper use of language is important.' I also know that you'll die of hypothermia if you don't warm yourself up, and I rather not have to explain to Colonel Phillips that we lost our only good nurse to stubbornness."

The girl inhaled sharply, her emotions in overdrive. She didn't realize how much he noticed her little quirks.

"I'd rather not have to explain to Colonel Phillips that we lost our only good nurse to stubbornness."

"Now, your whining might've worked in Brooklyn," Bucky continued. "Especially with Steve backing you up; but it won't work here. If you haven't noticed, we're not in New York anymore."

"I have eyes," the girl snapped, convinced she was nothing but a burden to him and the soldiers. She wondered again why Colonel Philips sent her, of all people, with the 107th. She didn't think she was that good. "You won't have to explain a thing. Don't worry. I won't die so easily."

Her words were laced with contempt and a hint of something else. Remorse, Bucky realized with a start, though before he could ponder on it any longer, she began to rise, seemingly done with their conversation.

"Damn it, woman!" Bucky's loud voice caught the entire camp's attention. He grabbed her forearm and yanked her back down. She winced when her bottom landed on the trunk a bit too hard. "I'll force this down your throat if I have to."

The girl blanched, shocked by Bucky's authoritative tone. "N-no, you will not!" She made an effort to appear commanding, but her stutter betrayed her. She was scared he would make good on his promise.

"You do not want to test me," he seethed. There was a look in Bucky's eyes she had not seen before. A crazed, almost feral glint in his pupils.

Her heartbeat quickened, and her insides warmed. She chalked it up to adrenaline. "I'm not that cold anymore."

Bucky said nothing, just continued to stare at her with the feral look still in his eyes.

Seconds passed—seconds that felt like minutes—before he spoke. "We're sleeping in one tent tonight." She didn't know why he was telling her that. "Together. To preserve body heat." She was still confused. "You either drink this, girl," he thrust the flask toward her lips once more. "or I'll make you sleep between my men. God knows they haven't touched a woman in months. So they won't have any complaints."

She argued with him, calling him petty names, and stuttering through excuses. "Y-you—you're."

"What?" he taunted. "Say it. Am I an asshole? A fucking idiot? Go on, don't be shy."

"You're an incompetent Sergeant. The most incompetent I've ever met!"

"I'm the only Sergeant you've ever met," Bucky deadpanned. "Seriously? That the best you can do?"

It was. "You're not that cruel! You're bluffing, like you bluffed about throwing me in the East River last year when I went out with that doctor."

"That doctor was a fucking creep with a criminal record," Bucky seethed. The girl's refusal went unheard. "And I wasn't bluffing. If Steve didn't stop me, you would have been swimming with the fish."

She muttered her annoyance under her breath, but Bucky caught it.

"God as my witness, I'll take you over my shoulder and lie on top of you if I have to!" One look into his eyes, and she could tell he was not lying.

When again he thrust the flask toward her mouth, she begrudgingly took it from him, bringing the cool metal to her lips. When the alcohol's bitter smell reached her, she almost gagged at the potent stench.

"I can't!" the girl choked on a sob, shoving the flask back into Bucky's hands.

A smirk adorned his pink lips, so unlike the anger she had been expecting. "Don't say I didn't warn ya." And before she could react, her world had been turned upside down.

Her legs went up, and her head went down. For a few moments, she froze, unable to understand what had happened. When a hand landed on her bottom, she gasped, realizing that Bucky had indeed made good on his promise—taken her over his shoulder.

When she screamed out of frustration, he shushed her. "Don't make me gag you."

The girl felt red, hot embarrassment at being treated like a child in front of all the soldiers. She scratched fruitlessly at Bucky's back, only to end up clutching his fatigues with numb fingers as he carried her across the clearing. At least the men had half a mind to keep their gaze averted when she was thrown unceremoniously inside one of the tents.

"You act like a caveman," she hissed, looking up at his scrunched brow.

Bucky's eyes softened, and all previous frustration and anger left him. Her insult amused him, and he plopped down next to her with a silent huff. "And you act like a brat."

The girl's answering words died on her tongue at Andrew Eaton's voice. "Lose the frown, Miss. There's not a single man here who wouldn't take a bullet for you, Barnes included."

A couple more soldiers entered the small tent, taking up the rest of the space. The girl ignored them, inhaling deeply. "I was perfectly fine outside, Andrew. Not cold at all."

A quick laugh from Bucky. "Is that why your lips are blue, and you're shaking like a leaf? 'Cause, you're not cold at all?"

"—He's just tryna keep you alive," Andrew interrupted before another argument could ensue.

A laugh bubbled up in the girl's throat before she could stop it. For some reason, the suggestion that Bucky Barnes was keeping her alive made her hysterical. Bucky Barnes, the man who couldn't keep a plant alive. She laughed until her stomach hurt, then she took a deep breath, clutched her middle while she fell backwards, and continued laughing.

"Fucking hell? She's crazy," the girl heard Bucky curse under his breath, but she was so far gone in delirium she could not be bothered to scold him for it.

"At least she's not frownin' anymore," Andrew offered.

The girl laughed harder, curling in on herself. Bucky stared at her with confused amusement, barely concealed, and chuckled softly. She was the most bizarre person he had ever met. So odd. Lately, he caught himself smiling more in her presence than ever before, finding it harder to resist her contagious delights. She was a constant amusement for the rest of the soldiers as well. Entertaining, though stressful.

She was still very clumsy, tripping on rocks and slipping down declines. A soldier needed to be watching her all the time, and that soldier, unbeknownst to her, was generally Bucky. He had grown eyes in the back of his head, trying to ensure she did not hurt herself. The girl had touched the hearts of all the men, his most of all, though he tried to conceal the fact by being curt and severe with her. Despite that, he did find pleasure in being able to tame her.

Ludovic Fournier, the Frenchman, muttered a phrase in his native tongue, and Andrew translated for him. "Women go a bit crazy before starting their courses. It's best to indulge them and not question it."

The entire tent went crazy, laughing and hollering almost as hard as the girl had been. Though she was not laughing anymore, and she was not amused. Her laughter died as quickly as it started—jarringly abrupt.

"I'm right here, you know!" She turned to the Frenchman. "Dis-moi, monsieur," the girl turned to him with a sarcastic and slightly intimidating curl of her lips. "Comment avez-vous appris tant de choses sur les femmes?"

The Frenchman swallowed thickly, and from behind him, Andrew translated his words to the small group. "She's asking how he got so damn smart."

"Ma femme."

"Ah! Idiote moi. Mais bien sûr. Ta femme doit être folle si elle tá épousé. Rien à voir avec se scours. Accune femme saine désprit ne portrait passer plus d'une journee avec toi sans avoir besoin d'être admis dans en établissement mental par la suite."

"She says, don't blame that time of the month, or your poor wife, when it's you're the reason she's like that." He guffawed out loud, drawing the girl's attention, before continuing. "Anyone would go crazy after spending more than a minute with you. Jesus Christ! Man, oh, man!"

The girl went warm all over. That was precisely why she tended to keep quiet. Her temper would rise if she did not keep her emotions in check. She had only ever lost it with Bucky before, never in front of a crowd. "Excuse me, gentlemen," she mustered what remaining dignity she had left, "but it's time for me to rest. I will see you all in the morning, bright and early. Good night."

Amidst all the hysterical laughing and the rampant rambling, the girl had forgotten Bucky's promise. He yanked her down before she could leave. He had indulged her long enough.

"I'm not letting you kill yourself—don't," he started, when he noticed her lips curl, "start laughing again. It was traumatizing enough the first time."

What he meant: "Please don't laugh again, because if you do, I wouldn't want you to stop. Ever." Except he did not know he felt such a thing. So, he annoyed her instead, undermining his affection for her.

The girl huffed loudly, voicing her frustration. The rest of the men settled inside the tent, pressed against each other for heat, hoping for at least a few hours of uninterrupted sleep. "I'm not cold anymore. I told you before."

"You're the worst liar I have ever met. Seriously! Worse than Steve." That was true. Steve was a horrible liar. "I can see you shivering. Hell! I can hear you!"

Bucky decided to give her a choice. A poor one, yes, but a choice, nonetheless. "Where do you wanna sleep? In between Fournier and Ward or next to Eaton?" He leaned in close, putting a hand next to his mouth as if indulging her with a secret. "I gotta warn you, though. He snores like a pig."

The girl simmered. She did not want to spend the night in the middle of men, and Bucky knew that. He was intimately aware of her reservation toward the opposite sex."Over here is fine." She was referring to the front of the tent where she was already seated.

"Perfect! This way, I'll be able to keep an eye on you."

"Excuse me?"

"You did choose the coldest spot, but I won't complain. Promise." He shrugged out of his jacket.

"What are you doing?"

"—as long as you wear this."

By now, it was a sort of ritual for Bucky to demand something of the girl and for her to deny him. No matter how helpful or minuscule the command, she could hardly help it anymore, even though it always ended with her compliance—sometimes forced.

"No, thank you." She was nothing if not stubborn.

Bucky scoffed. Grabbing her wrists, he pulled her down until she was in his lap. The girl stifled her scream and gasped instead.

The rest of the men were almost all asleep, exhausted from the long day. So was the girl, though she would not admit it. She was tired and cold—more than usual—and scared; of what was to come and of what was currently taking place. Her ancient promise of staying away from James Buchanan Barnes was becoming harder to uphold.

Bucky knew this—not of her promise, of course, but of her crumbling resolve—So he pushed. He flustered and confused her. "Only because it's amusing," he told himself—her reaction to his teasing. "Only because it's amusing,"

"You should stick with red. Purple is not a good colour on you, and that's what you'll become if you don't listen to me." He placed his jacket over her shoulders, and she was instantly warmed.

"What about you?" Her voice was meek and hesitant, words honeyed in their delivery. "Will you not get cold?" But he only smirked and raised his brows in answer. "Oh. Right." She had forgotten his natural affinity for all things warm, so unlike her own, for all things cold.

"I've got both you and Eaton keeping me warm. I wouldn't worry about it." Bucky smirked when the girl said nothing and only blinked in surprise.

She lowered herself, letting her head touch the soft ground. Tarps had been placed neatly all over, offering protection from the snow surrounding them. She turned away from Bucky, putting a foot of space between him and herself, holding her breath when she felt him lie next to her. However, the second she relaxed, his arm wrapped around her midsection and pulled her flush against his front, not an inch separating them.

"Bucky!" she warned in a hushed whisper, struggling against his hold. "This is inappropriate!"

"No!" he huffed in her ear, hot breath warming her neck. "This is survival!" She continued her futile attempts, trying harder to elude his grasp. "Besides, I gave you my only jacket, and I need to—Damn it, woman! Stop moving," he groaned in her ear.

"Why?" she asked, squirming harder.

"Because—Damn it!" he groaned again. "Just stop, will ya?" A deep breath. "Please."

The girl went still. Bucky Barnes never said please, never begged. She had not thought it possible. So, to hear him beg her... she decided she could never let Bucky Barnes use that word ever again. It was dangerous when uttered by his lips. An irresistible, compelling word that she could never deny, gladly giving in to any request.

"Please."

"Sorry," she muttered quietly, quickly settling down, unsure if he was listening. He was. "I'm sorry."

The girl let the tiredness of the day wash over her. She let Bucky's arms hold her, keep her safe and warm, and protect her. Her eyes closed, and she entered the state before sleep where the body was still aware and preparing for rest.

"You drive me crazy," Bucky's whispered in her ear, so quiet she convinced herself she imagined it.

"You drive me crazy too," was her last thought before she let deep slumber overtake her. Except the girl knew Bucky did not mean it with the same intention as hers. "So crazy."

At a steep decline, her foot swept away from under her on an icy patch of grass. From behind her, Bucky dropped his copy of "A Tree Grows in Brooklyn," extending his arm to grab her. He was not fast enough, and she fell on her back, sliding down until she hit a mountain of fresh snow.

"Jesus Christ, Darling!" Bucky reached under her arms to haul her up as if she weighed nothing. "You gotta watch where you're stepping."

"It's too dark," she sputtered, wiping snow off her face. "I couldn't see anything." From the east, the full moon was their only source of light, doing a poor job of illuminating the path through the dense forest around them.

"Fucking hell," Bucky swore, appraising the girl from head to toe. "You're soaked."

"I'm fine," she rasped, already beginning to shiver as the cold permeated her layers to settle in her skin. "I can keep going."

"Like hell you can," Bucky muttered, looking ahead to see everyone else's progress.

"There's no need to swear," the girl grumbled, pulling her hat farther down.

Bucky raised a brow at that. "At least the cold didn't get to your head."

She rolled her eyes, turning to leave, but Bucky grabbed her before she could take a single step, hauling her up in his arms. She shrieked, wrapping her hands around his neck for stability. "What are you doing?"

"You're going to trip again," he said by way of explanation. "It's just a little bit further. Then we'll set up camp."

Bucky ignored the girl's protests, quickly catching up with the rest of the battalion. They walked another mile in about half an hour, and Bucky ignored all of the girl's grumbling, only acknowledging her once they reached a small clearing and began setting up camp.

"Shut up," he grumbled, to which he received a smack on the back of his head.

"You shut up."

He lowered the girl next to the small smokeless fire Simon Ward lit, draping his jacket over her, "Dry up as much as you can. I'll be back."

Scooting closer to the small blaze, the girl pulled Bucky's jacket tighter around her shoulders, studying the flame with intensity as she recalled waking up the past few days.

The girl had gone to sleep slightly rigid and stiff, unused to resting next to another body, but she woke up in a tangle of limbs. Bucky's hands in her hair, her face tucked in the crook of his neck. Sometime in the middle of the night, she had turned over and gravitated closer to the heat his body was radiating. It was the best sleep either of them had ever had. Neither was willing to acknowledge it.

The night after was a repeat of the night before. Bucky threatened alcohol down the girl's throat, and she responded with a litany of insults which he laughed away. They wrestled while everyone watched—Bucky won, and the girl awoke the next day surrounded by a familiar warmth and a musky scent one could only describe as Bucky Barnes.

A week later, the moon was low in the sky, marking the beginning of winter. Neither the girl nor Bucky brought up their temporary sleeping arrangements, choosing to ignore the feelings festering inside them. The girl felt her resolve slowly crumbling. What was that promise she made to herself regarding Bucky Barnes? She couldn't quite recall.

The girl busied herself with unpleasant memories of his. She remembered when she first moved into the apartment across from Bucky. She was carrying a box full of books up the fifth floor of a six-story building. She had to take a break every few minutes to rest her arms, or they would've fallen off. Just outside her door, she collided with a brick wall. Her books went flying—so did she—and Bucky Barnes ran past her without so much as an "excuse me," muttering profanity under his breath. From then on, she started hating him.

That's how she met Steve. The slender young man popped a blonde head out of his friend's door and asked if he could help. She said, "no thanks," but he didn't listen, insisting on bringing the rest of her things up. That night, over a cup of hot tea, she learned about James Buchanan Barnes and his skirt-chasing tendencies. She began to hate him a bit more.

She recalled all his jabs of how she dressed, the way she looked, mocking her insecurities by sarcastically complimenting her. The ruined date with that doctor—never mind the potential criminal record. His threat to drown her.

He broke her friend's heart, told her he would call the next day and didn't. She was married now with a baby on the way, but it was the principle of the thing that irked her.

One by one, all of Bucky's wrongdoings came to the forefront of the girl's mind. When he argued with her, undermined her, and treated her like porcelain. When he called her "doll," "darling," and "sweetheart."

She hated that most of all.

Still, she could not ignore the tiny flutter in her heart whenever she thought of the blue-eyed sergeant. Despite all the bad, she now only remembered his warm smile and comforting embrace.

The girl brought her hand dangerously close to the fire, letting the flame irritate her skin before pulling away. She still felt cold.

Bucky returned a few moments later, rubbing his bare hands together in front of his face. "You tired?"

The girl ignored his question, asking one of her own. "Where are your gloves?"

Bucky's frosty breath momentarily covered his face. "Bradshaw lost his."

"Jeremy?"

Bucky nodded with a smile, unsurprised the girl knew most of the soldiers' names. "Wait, what are you doing?"

She fished her gloves from her coat, thrusting them toward him. "They're dry now. Here, take them."

"Don't be stupid," Bucky scoffed, "you'll get cold." Still, she persevered, leaving her hand dangling. "I'm not taking your gloves," Bucky said with finality.

"Alright," she nodded, dropping her hand and taking off his jacket instead.

Bucky seized her by the shoulders, stopping her and giving her a little shake. "What the fucking hell, woman! Keep your jacket on. It's freezing."

"Don't swear. It's yours, not mine. Take it." She tried prying his fingers off, but he wouldn't budge. "The gloves or the jacket, Bucky. Your choice."

"So goddamn stubborn. Every day you find something new to argue with me about, don't you?"

"Pick one," she warned, "or I'm giving both to Jeremy."

With a mumbled curse, Bucky snatched the gloves from her lap, putting them on like a petulant child.

"And say thank you," she snapped, slightly perturbed he hadn't taken back his jacket.

Bucky squinted his eyes, dropping down next to her. "You're acting like a real brat today."

"You're acting like a caveman! Now leave me alone so I can sleep in peace." She had turned away from Bucky, but when he offered no reply, she swallowed uneasily and looked back. His eyes glinted with mischief, hinting at his next step. "Bucky, no!"

She tried to stop him but was no match for his strength. Her world spun, and she found herself on his shoulder once again. Thankfully she stayed quiet this time, not bringing any extra attention toward them.

"I'll show you caveman." Bucky plopped her down in one of the smaller tents with space just enough for two, closing the flap behind him.

She steamed in forced fury, trying to take comfort in the fact that, pretty soon, she wouldn't have to put up with the infuriating soldier at all. She failed.

After a moment, when Bucky still hadn't moved from his hunched-over position at the front of the tent, the girl snapped at him. "What are you waiting for, Bucky? Come to bed!"

They both paused, processing the girl's words. "Come to bed." It was the first time she willingly called for him. She looked down, embarrassment creeping up her neck, unable to see the smile on Bucky's face.

Carefully, Bucky settled in behind her, embracing her with both arms, fitting her against him. When she began to squirm, he only had to issue a single warning before she relaxed. He sighed gratefully, not wanting a repeat of the past week where she slept oblivious while he tried to tamp down his arousal.

"This is nice," Bucky thought the girl muttered, though he couldn't be sure because she was already asleep.

"Yeah, this is really nice," Bucky whispered against her temple as blissful sleep overtook him.

From a distance, the Italian alps were quite breathtaking. She imagined a cabin in the forest, high on the Dolomite mountains; this would be her view. Maybe she would move here one day—once the war was over—and ask Steve to join her. Steve didn't have anyone stopping him from leaving other than Bucky. Maybe Bucky could join too? She shook that thought away.

The Dolomites were far behind them now, and as they passed town after town, destroyed and abandoned, an unsettling feeling grew vigorous in her gut. They were close to the Austrian border, hugging the small villages and settlements as they got closer to their destination: Azzano.

They made camp as the sun set, supplying the perfect backdrop to a most tiresome journey. The girl slung her pack to the ground and stretched her muscles while waiting for Bucky to finish ordering the men around.

He offered her water when he finished, which she took gratefully. "Lieutenant General Allan Montgomery should be here within the week. We'll travel the rest of the way to Azzano together." Then Bucky's eyes downturned. "We're only a few miles away from the front line. Do you remember your training?" he asked, looking for hesitation.

Of course, by training, he was referring to the hour-long lesson she was given on battlefield defence, not that any of it stuck. She tried schooling her features, failing miserably. "Yes, I do." Her voice was strong and confident, though she felt anything but. "If we spot the enemy, I'm supposed to set up a station at a safe spot and wait for the injured there. They will be sent back if they are fit to fight. If not..." she trailed off, unable to stomach the fact. "But I won't let that happen," she promised.

Bucky looked at her pityingly, as if he knew something she did not. "Let's hope so. The rest of the 107th should be here in a couple of days with General McGinnis. They were right behind us, so—"

Bucky paused, looking behind the girl at the soldiers setting up camp, before shaking his head and continuing. "Are you tired? The sun's beginning to set."

The girl wrapped her arms around her shoulders and shook her head.

"What's wrong?" Bucky asked, immediately picking up on the girl's discomfort.

"Bucky..." she began hesitantly. "How long will you make me sleep with you?"

Bucky frowned. "Do you feel uncomfortable? I know I came across as an asshole, but I didn't want you to freeze to death. Sorry, we can stop."

Unable to respond immediately, the girl looked at him with barely concealed bewilderment. Apologizing; is another thing Bucky Barnes did not do. "No, I don't want to stop. It's just..." she trailed off, looking for the right word. "inappropriate, especially with the General joining us soon."

"No, it's not," he said matter of factly. "We're friends."

"Friends don't sleep together," the girl responded, unsure of what she wanted to hear him say.

Bucky waited until she looked him in the eyes. "We're the exception. Hey, they've got bigger matters to worry about than us sharing body heat. Okay?"

"Okay."

"Well, good."

An awkward silence fell between the pair, and the girl cleared her throat before the feeling could consume her. "The men look ready to fight," she observed, watching her surroundings.

Bucky ran a hand through his hair. "Oh, uh... I mentioned we're near the front lines, right? So we need to set up a perimeter and plan the best line of attack. Make sure we have a solid line of defence in case something happens. Hey, don't worry. We've got this." Bucky gave her shoulder a tiny shove.

"Oh," she huffed, "I am not worried."

"Yeah?" a smile lit his eyes. "Your face is telling me a different story."

She pursed her lips in frustration. "I'm not worried about you, Bucky," she snapped, "I'm worried about Steve. He needs his friend to come back home—in one piece—and now, I know you normally have no regard for your safety, but you have to be careful if you don't want to leave our friend alone in Brooklyn."

Bucky saw red. He pulled at his hair in frustration. It was unbelievable how quickly she was able to rile him up. "Are you kidding me? I'm the one with no regard for safety? In the time I've known you, you've almost died over five times. You can't even cross the street without putting yourself in danger! Hell! I'm still confused about how they let you in this damn war in the first place." He rushed his words, voicing his anger and annoyance. He only registered the last part of the girl's sentence when he took a deep breath.

"Why would Steve be all alone in Brooklyn?" he asked in a more even tone. "You're going to be there, and a few months later, I'll join... he won't be alone. Why would you say that?"

He froze at the look on her face. Guilt—In her eyes, in the way she held herself, oozing from her pores. Bucky could smell it. Bucky could even taste it. "What did you do?"

"I'm so sorry. I wanted to tell you both sooner, but I only just decided and—"

"What. Did. You. Do?" Bucky grit out.

The girl took a deep breath. "I'm leaving. Moving to Canada. I already asked for a transfer—"

"Canada? Fucking Canada?"

"—Don't swear, please," she pleaded.

"This is some sick joke, right? Tell me you're joking." Bucky grabbed her forearms, forcing her to look him in the eyes.

"I'm sorry, Bucky, but I already applied for the transfer. I'm supposed to be moved to a different regiment when we get back to base."

There were many things the girl expected Bucky to say. She expected him to be happy that he was finally rid of her. Relieved she would be gone. She did not expect him to be hurt.

"Were you ever gonna say goodbye?"

"Bucky, I—"

"To Steve, to me. Were you ever going to tell me if I hadn't asked?"

No, she would not have. "Please, Bucky," she pleaded. "I don't want to leave you angry. For the sake of our past, let it go. We won't see each other again for a long time. Not until the war is over."

Bucky scoffed. "Phillips would never let that happen; he wouldn't let you leave. You're his favourite nurse."

She furrowed her brows in response. "I'm not Colonel Phillips' favourite nurse. He has no favourites."

"You're everyone's favourite nurse," he replied as if stating a fact.

"Liar!" she wanted to scream at him. She knew she was not his favourite.

"Not yours," she whispered, staring at him for a moment. "Lila Bellamy told me about the date you took her on. She said you turned a war zone into the most romantic place she'd ever seen. You brought her flowers, danced with her, and kissed her on the cheek once the night was over." She felt wetness gathering in her eyes. "You were the perfect gentleman."

When the first tear dropped, she didn't bother wiping it away. "When you return to base camp, please give Lila my regard. She was quite worried for me. Will you let her know I'm safe? She would be glad to hear from you, and I won't get to talk to her before I leave."

Bucky's grip on her shoulder tightened almost painfully, making her flinch. Through the hurt coursing in her body, she managed a feeble smile. "Try not to break her heart? You two look good together."

"No!" Bucky had had enough; he could hold his words in no longer. "There's nothing between Lila and me."

The girl shook her head. "You don't have to lie."

"Stop it!" Bucky exploded, shaking her. "Stop pushing me away. I don't want Lila; I never wanted her. I've only ever wanted you!"

"Bucky," the girl gasped.

"There's no way I'm letting you leave me, doll," he started, and there was that word she hated. "I'll take you over my shoulder if I have to, but you're not going to fucking Canada; because I love—"

Bucky never got to finish his sentence, never got to tell the girl how he felt because one of his worst nightmares was suddenly realized.

A bullet whizzed past them both—so close that the girl could smell the gunpowder in the wind, could feel its displacement through air against her cheek before it found a home in the soldier behind her. She screamed as she fell, Bucky's heavy weight shielding her body, keeping her down. Her world turned upside down, and she found herself on the cold ground with Bucky's grip on her arms tightened painfully.

To her right, the unfortunate soldier lay dead, with an 8-millimeter-sized hole in his head oozing a steady stream of thick blood. A wound meant for her.

The girl touched a hand to her cheek, which had suddenly warmed. It came back painted as red as the poppy fields back in Provence, France.

She began to tremble as shock overtook her.

Bucky swore under his breath, eyes wide as he took in their surroundings. Beneath him, the girl's eyes darkened in fear. She smeared the splatter of blood on her cheeks and stared at her fingers in horror.

"Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God." She kept muttering under her breath, eyes wide and lips quivering. "N-No. No. No. No."

All around Bucky, the soldiers ran, grabbing artillery and readying defences. "What the hell happened!?" he screamed. "We had a perimeter set up!" Underneath him, she shivered—out of shock or fear, he determined, rather than the cold.

"Those Nazi bastards were waiting to ambush us!" a voice shouted from amidst the chaos. "They knew we were coming!"

Another bullet whizzed past Bucky's head, embedding itself in the ground next to the girl's head. He jerked her away and swore. "Fuck!" She still trembled under him, muttering nonsense. He took her face in his hands, urging her to look at him. " Hey, darlin'? Doll, look at me."

Her eyes were glued to her shaky hands. "Oh God, no. No, I can't. I can't. I can't."

For a few seconds, Bucky froze above her—a few seconds too many—before his training kicked in. He needed to get her out of there. Bucky yanked her hands to the side and held her face in a bruising grip, forcing her to look at him.

"We're in a war zone right now." He said her name with fierce assurance. "The enemy isn't going to stop until we're all dead. I need you to remember the promise you made me this morning. You promised you wouldn't let anyone die—Hey!"

The girl tried peeking at the dead soldier beside her, but Bucky blocked her view.

"Don't look at him. Why are you looking at him? Look at me," he said. The girl whimpered, her eyes misting. "Look at me. That's not your fault."

She shook her head.

"—Hey! It's not. Those German bastards killed him, not you."

"That bullet was meant for me," she sobbed between breaths, "it should have hit me." The desperation in her voice cut him like a knife. He felt her fear as if it were his own.

"Don't you dare! Don't you fucking dare!" Under normal circumstances, Bucky would be concerned at the girl's lack of reaction to his cursing, but he had already spent too much time coddling her, and the men needed him. "I'm gonna go and avenge that soldier's death, darlin'," Buck shouted over the sound of battle. "I'm going to burn those Germans to the ground. I'm going to do my job, and you have to do yours."

She looked at him then, and Bucky exhaled gratefully at the clarity he saw in her eyes, hidden behind adrenaline and fear. She gave him a little nod and stifled her sobs. "I feel a little sick."

"Me too," said Bucky, hauling them both to their feet.

The second they were upright, Bucky yanked her behind a tree for cover against the onslaught of bullets raining down on them. "You have to run." He grabbed his rifle from behind his back and checked the ammunition.

"Bucky—"

"When I tell you to, I want you to run toward those trees over there," he pointed to a slight decline, where the trees were thicker and provided more cover, "and I want you to keep on running."

"Wait! No!"

"No matter what happens!" He would not look her in the eyes—Could not look her in the eyes. "You run until you reach the last marker—" Bucky took off his helmet and placed it on the girl's head, fastening it over her hat. "—about a mile and a half out—"

"Bucky, listen to me!"

But he would not listen to her. The girl kept calling him, but he ignored her. He knew his eyes would betray his fear if he did. And he knew that the terrified look that had most likely taken up residence on her face, would force him to lose the last of his sanity and carry her back to base. This war zone was the last place he wanted her.

"You stay there until someone comes for you, and you don't—"

"James!"

And there it was, that damned name. So absolutely dangerous when uttered by her lips. Time slowed for both of them as if the war had pressed pause. Sound faded, colours brightened, and for a few minuscule seconds Bucky and her existed in their own little world, where the blood on her hands was paint, and the look in his eyes was love and not fear.

Bucky looked down, expecting to see the girl hysterical and weeping. Instead, he saw something completely different. Her eyes were clear, the most they had been in weeks, terribly similar to the look she would get in camp when the life of a soldier was in her hands.

And when she spoke, there was determination in her voice. A promise. "You better come back in one piece for Steve." And he knew she meant, "be careful."

He blinked at her, once, then twice, ensuring there were no other hidden messages behind her words. "You better run fast." And she knew he meant, "I will."

The world around them came back into focus, and with a final tightening of her helmet, Bucky pushed her away, sending her running toward safety.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

How much time had passed? She couldn't be sure. Her boot-clad feet were numb from being buried in the snow, and her back was sore from chafing against the rough bark of a pine tree.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

How much time had passed? The sun had long since disappeared under the horizon. In its stead was the moon, still as big and beautiful as the night before. Was it privy to all the horrors the girl wasn't? Did it frown over the violence and brutality it witnessed, or did the inhumanity of the act make it shine brighter?

Thump. Thump. Thump.

How much time had passed? Above her, a bird chirped loudly, disturbed by the gunfire that seemed to grow closer as the moon rose higher in the sky. An hour? Two? It certainly felt like more.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

The girl placed a hand over her rapidly beating heart, patting her chest as a means to settle it. "It's okay," she whispered, afraid to voice her thoughts any louder. "It's okay."

She twisted her body around the thick trunk, peeking at the darkness beyond her hiding spot. Another jarring explosion, fake sounding and unreal, before the world quieted. Eerily so.

The bird above her stopped its music. The leaves stopped their little dance. The girl twisted fully, staring intently at the spot she had come running from before finding a temporary home against her tree. All felt normal—well, as normal as could be.

What was it that prompted her forward and on her feet? Bucky's instructions rang clear in her head. "You stay there until someone comes for you." No one was there for her, yet her feet began to move of their own volition. Perhaps at the persuasion of a greater force. Fear; she could taste it on her tongue.

Fear that made her keep going despite the ache in her limbs. Fear that numbed her skin against the sharp tendrils of wind cutting her face. Fear of the quiet. Of being alone. Of being without him.

"Bucky," her whisper echoed against the draught. "James," her heart bled through the frozen ground.

The stench hit her first. Her nose picked up on what her eyes could not. Rotting flesh, putrid and burnt. Sweat and vomit mixed in with the minerally dirt. Her tongue flared up next as copper permeated the rest of her senses, overwhelmingly strong. And the fear; she caught herself against a tree as it engulfed her, making her lose the contents of her stomach.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

The girl was at the edge of the clearing, with the gruesome scene of battle right in front of her. Her eyes moved fleetingly across everything, afraid of what she might find. What was once the site of a lively campsite was now demolished in a mess of guts and spoils.

The earth had turned over to create trenches and hiding spots. Dead bodies and dismembered limbs were scattered across the ground, decorating it with a gruesome excuse for peace.

It was quiet. Too quiet. The calm before the storm.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

She spotted movement from the corner of her eye, followed by a low groan of pain.

James. Her heart lurched.

A head of blonde curls bobbed from behind a mountain of dirt. The girl reached behind her for her pack, realizing it lay abandoned on the battlefield. She spotted it twenty-something meters away to her right.

Her eyes squeezed shut. The girl wasn't sure if it was safe to venture out, but it was so quiet, and still, she reasoned the worst of it had passed. She made up her mind; first, the pack, then the wounded soldier.

With her arms pumping rhythmically, she ran. Five, ten, fifteen meters out. The girl skid to a stop, bending to grab the pack. Instead, cold metal kissed her temple, and she stopped breathing.

Her terror-stricken eyes met dilated blue ones. Her pack perched on the edge of what resembled a small trench, hidden from the rest of the clearing. Several soldiers sat hunched over, brandishing various weapons. Bucky Barnes lowered his rifle as gut-wrenching fear overtook his face. He shook his head vigorously, reaching up to grab her, but she stumbled back on her arms, clutching the pack to her chest.

The girl swallowed the sob threatening to spill over. Bucky was alive and safe, though a bit roughed up. She looked to her left at the blonde soldier immobilized by his injury, and Bucky followed her gaze. She noticed the moment it clicked for him, and she made her decision on the spot. She only hoped her eyes accurately portrayed her feelings.

Bucky's mouth opened in a silent scream of her name, and he leapt from his spot, tossing his weapon to the side. Andrew Eaton grabbed Bucky by the shoulders and yanked him back to safety. The girl took that opportunity to scramble to her feet. Behind her, Bucky's muffled shout echoed in her ears.

"He's okay," she reassured herself. "Bucky's okay."

The wounded soldier was lying on his front, eyes closed and motionless. She fell to her knees, placing two fingers against his windpipe. There, faint and irregular, an indistinct pulse was striving to intensify.

The soldier was alive. Good, she thought, I can work with that. His dog tags peeked from under his coat: Matthew Miles Davidson. Frantic hands ran over his body, feeling for a wound. Her hand came away wet, and she discovered his pants soaked with blood. Bracing herself on her knees, the girl rolled Matthew over with a groan.

"Sorry," she whispered when he moaned in anguish. "I'm sorry." Producing a pocket knife, she cut the fabric away from his right thigh, displaying his injury. Puckered skin oozed a steady flow of red, painting her hands. She laced her fingers together and pressed against the opening, using her entire weight to stop the blood.

The girl's thoughts were in overdrive, swiftly taking in and storing information. No exit wound, meaning the bullet was still inside. Matthew was faintly moving, his chest rising and falling with every breath. The girl decided she would remove the bullet, bandaging the wound before dragging him past the trees for cover.

However, over the adrenaline rushing through her ears, she did not realize another fight had broken out. Someone shouted from a distance, and the girl pulled away, unbuckling Matthew's belt and folding it in half. She needed to clean his wound, and since the morphine was in a different pack, with the rest of the medicine, Matthew was going to feel everything.

He was slightly more lucid now, staring at her, so she grabbed his face and urged him to listen. "Bite down on this, Matthew." And he obediently followed her direction.

"Good, you're doing very good." She ran a hand over his hair, cooing with a sad smile. "Don't make any noise, okay?"

The girl retrieved a bottle of rubbing alcohol and a large roll of bandages. She had tweezers in her pack for removing the shell, needle and thread for the other gashes. Those she kept in the kit and moved out of the way. Uncapping the rubbing alcohol, she liberally poured some over her hands to sanitize them before positioning the bottle over the laceration.

"This is going to hurt," she warned Matthew before tipping the bottle over.

The second the ethanol breached his wound, Matthew let out an ear-splitting scream, despite the sound being muffled by his belt. He writhed on the ground, body spasming in pain.

His groans of agony cloaked the racket of the fight around her, making it so she couldn't hear the tank powering up.

"You're okay, Matthew!" she cried.

From her right, someone screamed, and a solid form collided with her, tackling her to the ground. The night sky turned a light blue, flashing white for a brief moment, and the girl raised her head. In her spot, where she sat just a second ago, tending to Matthew's wounds, was air. No supplies, no pack, and no Matthew. The only evidence that something, or someone, had been there was the roll of bandages in her hand and the blackened earth outlining the shape of a body.

Looking to her saviour, she didn't know if she should be grateful or ungrateful that her life was spared.

"You're okay!" Bucky cried, roaming his hands over her body, feeling if she was alive and well. "Fuck! I told you to fucking stay there!" He craned his neck to witness his men steadily losing ground, unmatched by the enemy and their technology.

When Bucky turned toward the girl, the fear in his eyes left her paralyzed. Panic-stricken hands ripped at her clothes, and at first, she was too shocked to react, but as the feeling returned to her limbs, she protested against him.

Bucky smeared a handful of dirt over her face, covering her eyes and lips. She clawed at his chest, trying to stop him, but he forced her back. They were still on the ground, him on top of her, leaving her immobilized.

Then he grabbed the bandages and lifted her undershirt to wrap her chest. "Stop," she whimpered. "Bucky, stop."

He didn't listen.

"James," she pleaded.

And there was that damned name again. Bucky stopped, looking into her eyes to see his terrified form reflected back. "We're losing," he rasped.

No further explanation was needed when Bucky looked at her like that. The girl heard all he wanted to say, saw all he wanted to do, and felt all he begged to show. She relaxed her body, giving him all her trust, and let him do what he did best.

That night the moon witnessed the girl surrendering to Bucky Barnes. That night, he saved her.

The air reeked of secretion. The girl didn't know why she found that detail so surprising. What else was a prison supposed to smell like if not human feces, fear and hopelessness?

She didn't remember the ride over. Shortly after surrendering, they were herded, like cattle, into armoured trucks. Masked men pulled her away from Bucky and tied her hands behind her back, shoving her into a separate truck.

The drive wasn't long, and in a few hours, they were stopping. When a guard pushed her and nine others into a dark cell, she fell to her knees and cried. Fortunately, Andrew Eaton was in the same cell as her, and he pulled the girl to him, muffling her sobs against his chest. Her high-pitched wailing was sure to catch someone's attention.

War was not kind to men, even less to young women. If they caught her, what would they do? She remembered the fear in Bucky's eyes as he frantically concealed the weight of her breasts, flattening them to resemble a man's. She decided she didn't want to find out.

The girl fell asleep in Andrew's arms wishing she was in Bucky's embrace instead. But Andrew was cold, and no matter how hard she tried, her imagination could not do Bucky justice.

In the morning, guards came for them. A burly-looking German soldier explained to her group in broken English that they were going to be put to work. Weapons manufacturing. "How does it feel?" he asked, "that we'll be killing your brothers with the weapons you make for us." They laughed amongst themselves, then pointed their guns at her and the prisoners, putting them to work.

Nights passed miserably. Andrew assured the girl Bucky was somewhere in the facility, in one of the cells scattered across the vast space, though that did little to calm her. She cried herself to sleep, body aching from the laborious work forced upon them.

By morning, the news spread. Men were being taken away.

A foul-faced officer was picking soldiers at random, plucking them away. "Hitler's right-hand man," someone sneered. "The devil incarnate," another cowered.

Andrew kept the girl tucked away against him, shielding her from wandering eyes. The dirt on her face had washed away, her hair loosened from her braid, bindings slack. She finally looked like a woman.

She saw the proof of it etched on Andrew's face when the guards came near. It was yet another night, and she was resting her head against the thick bars of the metal prison when she heard them. Andrew tried to hide her, but space was limited, and the devil's keen eye landed on her before she could move.

"What have we here?" A man with a drooping face and quizzical brow bent down to look at the girl. He grabbed her jaw in a rough grip through the bars when she attempted to crawl away. "Ah!" he exclaimed fervently, digging his nails into her skin until she whimpered. "A girl?"

His free hand went to her neck, dropping lower and lower until she protested, pushing him away. "No!"

The man raised a brow. "How did you manage to slip through, Mäuschen?" He gestured to the guards behind him, who marched forward to open the bars. "Let's find out, shall we?"

"Don't touch her, bastards!" Andrew shouted, pulling her back.

The girl wanted to stop him, but she became paralyzed with fear. The men had guns and long sticks—Andrew had nothing but his wits about him and a pair of worn fists.

The next few events happened in quick succession. A muscle in the devil's face twitched, his smile momentarily dropping, which he swiftly schooled. "Das Mäuschen has a protector? What a waste." He shrugged carelessly. "No matter. Always more where he came from."

A bang resounded, and Andrew fell backwards, eyes wide and unmoving. Someone screamed, loud and shrill. It wasn't until a guard whisked the girl away that she realized it was her screaming.

The prisoners shouted in protest as she passed by them. From amongst the hoard of fury, a pair of blue eyes met hers, two hands grasped cool metal, and two lips parted to call out her name. The girl craned her neck to look, but heavyset doors closed behind her before the voice could reach her ears.

She closed her eyes to block out her surroundings, and when she finally reopened them, it was the next day.

His name was Arnim Zola—Dr. Arnim Zola—and he was a scientist working for HYDRA. That's where they were held captive, the Doctor divulged, at one of the many facilities HYDRA owned across the continent.

The Doctor passionately described the importance of the work done at HYDRA while the girl was bound to an exam table. "How lucky that you will not only be alive to see HYDRA shine, but you will also take part in it." He checked the girl's pulse, jotting something down on a clipboard. "We lost many of the men. They all fight the effects. It will be interesting to see how a woman fares, don't you think?"

She was too tired to struggle, and when the Doctor injected a burning liquid in her veins, she found she was too tired to scream.

The world turned black.

When she came to, however long later, Dr. Zola was hunched over his desk, shuffling through papers while muttering under his breath. "How is this possible? I gave her a larger dose."

The burning had turned to ice in her veins, and she shook violently against her restraints as she shivered. "Please..."

"I don't understand. Are you sweating it off?" Then he hummed. "I will need more tests." And her world turned black once again.

How much time had passed? Days? Weeks? Months? The girl could not be sure of anything other than that the cold in her veins had found a home in her heart.

"Immune," she heard the Doctor repeat. "Nothing is working."

She was counting the marks on the wall of the tiny room she was locked in when Dr. Zola approached her one day. "Herr Schmidt wants me to dispose of you," he told her. "But I think you can serve us yet."

She turned away from him and closed her eyes, trying to ignore him.

"That prisoner. What was his name? The one who died protecting you?"

Andrew. The girl opened her eyes and looked at Dr. Zola with distrust.

"He made me wonder if the others would do the same."

"They won't," she told him, trying to hide her desperation. "I'm only a nurse."

Dr. Zola snickered mischievously, slowly backing out of the small room. "We will see about that."

That night they brought the first prisoner. Someone she did not recognize. "Do as I say, and the girl will remain unharmed."

He spat on Arnim Zola's face. "Go to hell, you son of a bitch!"

The Doctor wiped away the drool with a wry smile, gesturing to the soldiers holding the girl still. "No!" she managed to shout before they plunged her face into a bucket of ice water.

She held her breath at first, hoping to bide some time before they pulled her out, but as her heart raced and the grip on her arms tightened, she couldn't help it any longer. She began to thrash, shaking and sputtering as the water invaded her lungs.

After what felt like an eternity, she tasted fresh air, heaping lungfuls to ease the burn in her throat.

The prisoner thrashed against his restraints, screaming profanities into the air as Dr. Zola injected him with a blue substance.

"Stop resisting!" the Doctor demanded. "You'll ruin the transformation!" He turned toward the girl. "Do you want her to die?" he asked the prisoner. "They'll kill her."

The prisoner screamed louder.

"Again!" Dr. Zola ordered.

The girl managed to take a deep breath before they plunged her into the water again, not that it helped. The torture went on for the rest of the night. By the last hour, the prisoner had died, lying in a pool of vomit.

The next night they brought the second prisoner. Someone she did recognize. "Do as I say, and the girl will remain unharmed."

"Jeremy? No!" the girl began to cry. "No, not him!"

"Miss?" Jeremy looked at Dr. Zola with indignation. "Let her go."

"Do as I say," Zola repeated, "and I will."

"Go to hell."

And so it began.

Though, It did not last very long. When the girl screamed for the first time, Jeremy Bradshaw gave in. "I'll do it. I'll do anything. Just let the lady go."

Zola smiled victoriously. "Now, that wasn't so hard. Was it?"

A few hours later, Jeremey's heart gave out.

"He was weak," Zola proclaimed. "We need someone stronger."

The next night they brought the third prisoner. Someone she knew.

The girl had prepared herself this time. She wouldn't cry or scream out; she would fight! But none of it mattered when she saw the person standing before her.

War was not kind to men, and this one was proof of it. His hair was longer, touching the tips of his ears, and a light beard covered most of his face, making him almost unrecognizable. Almost. His piercing blue eyes stayed the same.

"James," she whispered. Tears gathered in her eyes, waiting for the moment he saw her.

"Do as I say, and the girl will remain unharmed."

Bucky screamed the moment he did, mouth open in rage. The girl wondered what he saw when he looked at her. Was she as haggard in appearance as him? She sure felt it.

Bucky threw the soldiers off him, shouting her name as he ran toward her. He came to a halt when someone put a gun to her head, and the soldiers took the opportunity to restrain him once again.

"Yes, you are strong, indeed. Now, will you do as I say?" Zola asked.

"Eat shit, cocksucker."

Bucky was being so strong. So could she.

When the soldiers grabbed the girl, she was ready. She kicked one of them between the legs, and when he loosened his hold, she bit the hand on her shoulder. She must have made it two steps before they restrained her again.

She heard the buzz before she could feel it, and an unbridled scream left her. Electricity travelled up her spine, burning a pathway through her nerves. Her muscles went lax, and she fell, convulsing on the cold floor.

"No," she whimpered as they administered another shock through a small black device. But they were unrelenting, kicking her half-conscious form while she was down.

Bucky roared in rage while they abused her, but he could do nothing but watch as they gave her another electric shock.

"I'll kill you sons of bitches! I'll fucking kill you!"

Zola injected Bucky with the blue liquid. "Relax your muscles! Let the transformation take over."

"Fuck. You!" Bucky seethed.

The girl crawled toward him from her position on the ground, dragging herself by her nails. The soldiers followed leisurely, laughing at her pathetic attempt. The next shock made her throw up. Bile and stomach acid; since she hadn't been able to keep anything else down.

"She'll die, Soldier," Zola warned Bucky. "There's only so much a person can take."

Bucky stopped thrashing, briefly looking at the girl before addressing the Doctor. "What will you do to her?" he asked, unconcerned for himself.

"Bucky, no."

"Will you hurt her?"

Zola smiled, knowing he had won. "As long as you do as I say, I promise she will remain unharmed."

The girl began to cry. "Don't give up, Bucky. I can take it."

"—No, she can't," Zola interrupted.

"James!"

Their eyes met, and the girl knew Bucky had made up his mind. "I'll do anything." He slumped against his restraints, giving over his control. Before the Soldiers dragged her away, Bucky mouthed three words that shattered her completely. "I love you."

The doors closed before she could mouth it back.

Bucky Barnes was in shock. He had to be. That was the only reason he was on his feet after a week of hell, feeling only slightly bruised and fatigued. Yes, it was the shock that kept him moving, and not whatever it was the Doctor injected in him.

"Did it hurt?" Bucky asked, only slightly stumbling.

"A little," replied Steve Rogers. The same Steve Rogers Bucky remembered being at least two heads shorter.

"Is this permanent?" Bucky took in the striped shield, the muscles hidden by leather.

"So far."

Bucky chuckled, pressing his chest to feel his heart beating wildly within.

"The exit's through here," Steve gestured.

Bucky pulled him back. "Wait. I have to find someone first."

"Who?"

Bucky stared at his friend for a moment, hesitating. Steve didn't know the girl was with him. She never told anyone where she was deployed. Bucky whispered her name before clearing his throat and saying it louder.

He saw the surprise on Steve's face slowly morph into determination. "What are we waiting for, then? Let's get her."

They found her quickly. She was in an unmarked room on the second floor, hiding underneath a small blanket. Steve stayed behind, and Bucky entered the dark space with careful steps.

He heard the girl whimper in protest and scurry closer to the wall. "Not again. Please!"

Bucky bent down, and what he saw made him pause. He almost didn't recognize the girl with her sunken face and pale skin. She had lost weight, and her clothes were hanging off of her, but her eyes were what broke him. Wide and distrustful. Lifeless.

Bucky wiped his tears away, determined to stay strong. "Come here. I've got you."

The girl crawled farther away as if trying to embed herself in the wall. Bucky grabbed her face with both hands. "Look at me. Hey! Look at me, doll. It's Bucky."

She finally met his eyes, and Bucky saw the moment she recognized him. "James?" she sobbed, clutching his shirt in a weak grip. "You're here!"

Bucky lifted the girl in his arms, keeping her close to his chest. The first thing he noticed was how cold she was; the second was that she weighed almost nothing. When Bucky stumbled out, unsteady on his feet, Steve grabbed her from him, exchanging the shield for her. "Reserve your energy. We've got a long way to go."

"Steven? Am I dreaming?"

Steve laughed sadly. "No."

"You're big now," she sighed. "What happened?"

Steve shrugged. "I joined the army."

"I always knew you would."

They all laughed, happy for a moment that they were reunited. But danger was near, Bucky could feel it, and his smile dropped. Around them, parts of the building exploded, making the ground shake.

"Quick! Through here!" Steve shouted, taking two steps at a time, and Bucky tried his best to keep up. They were so close. He could feel it.

"Captain America!" A voice shouted, stopping them. "How exciting!"

Steve lowered the girl to her feet, grabbing his shield from Bucky and taking a fighting stance.

When Bucky realized who the strange voice belonged to, he pulled the girl behind him, shielding her from view. It was him, the man who dragged her away all those days ago. Bucky couldn't tell then, but it was apparent now that he was a high-ranking officer. Perhaps the mastermind behind this whole operation. Zola stood next to him, cowering behind a large briefcase.

"I am a great fan of your films!" mocked Johann Schmidt. "So, Dr. Erskine managed it after all. Not exactly an improvement, but still, impressive."

Steve and Schmidt were at arm's length, and the Captain did not hesitate to swing at Schmidt. The man stumbled back, clutching his face in surprise.

"You've got no idea," Steve huffed.

"Haven't I?" And Schmidt took a swing of his own, putting a fist-sized dent in Captain America's shield.

"Steve!" The girl screamed from behind Bucky.

The two began to fight, and Bucky had to keep her from running toward their friend. "He's got it," he told her; and he did.

Steve kicked Schmidt, sending him back a few feet, and Zola stepped forward. He pressed a button that collapsed the bridge Steve was on.

"No matter what lies Erskine told you," Schmidt exclaimed. "You see, I was his greatest success!" He peeled the skin off his face, revealing red flesh underneath.

"You don't have one of those, do you?" Bucky found himself asking, a bit dizzy from the incident. He held the girl tighter against him when she started shaking like a leaf.

Schmidt made a closing remark that went over Bucky's head, and he and Zola left. An explosion caused the trio to stumble, forcing Steve into action. "Come on, let's go. Up."

Bucky pulled the girl along, and they went up a floor, stopping in front of a metal beam.

"Let's go. One at a time," Steve urged, helping Bucky over the railing.

"What are you doing?" the girl shouted over the loud explosions.

"There's no other way!" Bucky told her. "Stay behind me."

Steve helped her over the railing next, and Bucky grabbed her.

"I can't!" she shook. "I'll fall."

Bucky pulled her close. "Don't look down. Why are you looking down? Look at me."

"No!"

"Yes! One step at a time, alright? Steve's right behind you." The beam quaked with every step, but Bucky did not slow down. He tossed the girl over the railing and leaped the rest of the way; right before the beam fell from underneath him.

Bucky's stomach dropped. There was no way for Steve to cross. "There's gotta be a rope or something!"

"Just go!" Steve cried. "Get out of here!"

"No! Not without you!"

Steve hesitated before backing up as far as he could and making a run for it. Bucky's stomach dropped, thinking Steve wouldn't make it, but then he emerged from the smoke and landed safely on his feet. The trio ran.

The half-moon was low in the sky when they made camp after two day's journey. It was late, and the prisoners were tired. Bucky made his rounds, checking the perimeter and the tents for anything suspicious.

The Battle of Azzanno was still fresh in his mind, and despite Steve's reassurances, Bucky could not let down his guard.

"How is she?" Steve asked Bucky.

Bucky didn't know the answer. "She won't talk to me," he said frustratedly. "She says she's fine, but I can see she isn't."

Steve sighed, having expected that answer. "And how are you?"

"Me?"

"Yeah. You both went through something traumatic." Steve grabbed Bucky's shoulder. "Talk it out, why don't you?" and left with a reassuring smile.

Bucky found the girl in one of the smaller tents, huddled in the corner for warmth.

"I was waiting for you," she admitted.

Bucky let a small smile grace his lips. They had come a long way. "Not too long, I hope."

"Very long," she rebutted. "I'm all cold."

Something in the girl's expression hinted at something deeper, something permanent. A rawness that she couldn't hide. It made Bucky's eyes burn. "Let me warm you up then." He fell to his knees and embraced her, holding her trembling body as tightly as he could.

The girl craned her neck and looked at Bucky with teary eyes. "Are you okay?"

Bucky took a second because he didn't know. Was he okay? He adjusted his hold until the girl was in his lap, snug against his front. "No, I'm not," he decided. "But as long as you're here, I will be."

Her hair was open, so Bucky put his forehead against the soft strands and closed his eyes. "Are you okay?"

The girl took a shuddering breath. "I—I was scared, and I—" She sobbed once, then twice. "No, I'm not okay!" And she began to weep. Agonizing sobs shook her entire body.

Bucky held on tight, whispering reassurances until, however long later, she eventually settled. "But I will be," she hiccuped.

The two sat silently for a while before she shifted to face him. Bucky wrapped an arm around her waist to keep her steady and caressed her face. "I love you," he whispered, leaning in until their noses brushed.

Her eyes pierced his, conveying all she felt, and she softened in his arms. "James."

And there was that damned name again. Bucky pulled her toward him, closing the small distance between their lips.

Oh, she was soft, putty under his skilled mouth. He groaned, pressing closer until the only thing separating them were clothes. "Sweetheart." He tasted her lips with his tongue, asking for permission which she swiftly granted.

"James," she whimpered against him, clawing at his jacket for purchase. They kissed until she became breathless, reluctantly pulling away with a moan to fill her lungs.

Bucky felt his heart beating out of his chest. "I'm here," he vowed, "I'm right here. Never leaving you again."

Her pleasure-stricken face met his with an intensity that left him more breathless than her lips had. "James, I love you."

And Bucky knew in his soul that all would be well. He took her lips once again, sealing his promise with a kiss.

Ao3│Wattpad│Ko-fi

Main Masterlist

Comments and Reblogs are greatly appreciated!! 💜

@marvelatthetwilight @hallecarey1 @ria132love

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x female reader #40s!bucky #40s!bucky x reader #nurse!reader #bucky barnes x nurse!reader #40s!bucky x nurse!reader #bucky barnes angst #my writing #look at me fic

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whitexwolfxx310 · 1 year

Text

Meeting the Big Bad (White) Wolf

Pairing:Bucky x femalereader

Summary: After finishing college you are accepted into an internship program at the Avengers Compound to help your new patient into the civilian world. But much to your surprise, your first and currently only, patient is none other than James Buchanan Barnes.

Warnings: Death, possible triggering, military life, and cursing (Maybe 1 or 2 times in this post) Y/N.

Words: 2.9k

Masterlist

Being an Army brat is what inspired you to go to school and help adjust Veteran's back into civilian life. Moving from place to place, never being able to truly establish yourself or relationships with anyone due to the impending doom of you, or them, leaving. Another thought that was always front and center in anyone’s mind linked to the military, was death. At first it’s heartbreaking. You see families and other soldiers crumble due to a fallen comrade. But then one day, it’s like a switch flips, and it becomes a part of life that you learn to accept, no matter how hard of a loss. Being a soldier, everyone around you develops a hard, and sometimes impenetrable, exterior (and interior).

My father, Colonel Castle, retired from the military after 20+ years of active duty with the 107th Infantry. He and my mom moved to a beautiful, secluded home with a lot of wide open space in upstate New York so that we were still close to the place that we considered ‘home’. My dad said he knew that it was meant for him when he realized how quiet it was. I guess spending half of your life fighting in war, silence is welcome over explosions and screams of dying people.

My mom was the forever adored and perfect Army wife. She was always by my fathers side for award ceremonies, promotions, led the FRG (Family Readiness Group) in the battalion. My parents of course supported my older brother Luke when he decided to follow in the Colonels footsteps (and my grandfathers) when he enlisted into the 107th right out of high school. He spent a total of 7 years in the military. We didn’t see him much due to where he was assigned, training for airborne school, and 3 tours overseas.

It happened to be the day I finished my last final in my final semester before getting my masters. I practically skipped my way back to the dorms where my room was already packed and I was so much looking forward to going to my parents home upstate to await my results and see where I got placed for an internship. It was a beautiful day in the beginning of June. The sun was shining so bright and the air was warm, but not humid. After settling into the guest bedroom, I took out a novel that I have been dying to read instead of textbooks. I sat in a wooden rocking chair on the wrap around porch with my book, waiting for my parents to get home. (Mom was always great in the sense of preparing for someone’s arrival. Getting food, snacks, and ingredients to make your favorite dinners. But of course, she was the most perfect model wife and mother). My father no doubt went with her to the store because now he was finally able to have the time to enjoy the little things, even as small as going to the local grocery store.

I’m not sure how long I was reading for, but I got about 8 chapters into my book when I heard a car in the distance. I immediately jumped up in anticipation to greet my parents. I could see the dust being kicked up from the tires of the vehicle down the long driveway. But much to my surprise, it wasn’t my parents. Instead, it was a large, black Chevy Tahoe and my heart sank. I’ve seen this SUV many times, and it never came with good news. Once the car was parked in front of the house, a man dressed in his olive green uniform got out of the SUV.

Oh no... I thought to myself. I swallowed the hard lump in my throat, clenched my teeth and slowly walked down the steps to meet him.

“Ma’am. I’m Sergeant Finn, here on behalf of the 107th Infantry Division”

I nodded my head in understanding. But that was all that I could muster.

“Are you kin to Staff Sergeant Lucas William Castle?”

Here we go. “Yes.” The volume was barely audible. “I-I’m....his sister, y/n.”

Sergeant Finn takes a deep breath and looks straight into your eyes. “I regret to inform you that Sergeant First Class Castle has been killed in action.”

Another olive green uniformed man steps out from behind the Black Tahoe with a triangle box. He briskly starts walking toward you while Sgt, Finn continues speaking of condolences and the details of how, when, where, etc. But it all sounds drowned out, like you’re underwater. You’re not sure how long the one-sided conversation went on with the two men until you realized the heavy weight in your hands from your older brothers flag and the dust being kicked up from the dirt road as they left.

It’s just me now. Just me.

Your life has been at a standstill since you and your family learned the news about Luke. You’ve slept most of the days away, barely coming out of the guest room to socialize, even with your own parents. There’s a piece of you that feels guilty, since you are their only remaining child and yet you can’t bring yourself to talk to your parents, to your friends, even acknowledge that Lucas’ death is real.

Forcing yourself out of bed to take a shower is the big accomplishment of the week. It’s really the only thing you look forward to anymore, since everything else has gotten put on hold (from your own doing). You stare at yourself in the mirror as it starts to fog from the hot water running. The person looking back is someone that you don’t recognize. Poking at the dark bags under your eyes, seeing how dry your skin is and how dull your hair looks. A deep sigh escapes from your chest as you undress to stand naked and vulnerable in the almost unbearable hot water. You stand there in hopes that the water will wash away not just the grime, but the depression and the grief as well.

Feeling slightly better after you shaved, exfoliated and scrubbed, you head back into the guest room to get into a clean pair of comfy clothes. When you walk in you notice something on the bed; A manilla envelope addressed to you. It instantly peaked your curiosity so you sit on the bed and start inspecting it. In the upper right hand corner in big, bold letters read the return address: Stark Industries.

Up until this point you had forgotten the internship you had applied for in your last year of school. It can’t be.... you think to yourself. There is no way I actually got the position, the one where only a single student was chosen to work at the Avengers Compound.

The letter inside the envelope reads:

Dear (y/n),

We are writing this letter to say Congratulations, you have been accepted into the paid internship program working with Earth’s mightiest heroes. You have the opportunity to help make the world a better place by dedicating your time to encourage their well-being, mental health, and expand their abilities. If you choose to accept and seize this moment, we are very much looking forward to working with you. The details below contain your start date, dress code, directions and information on where to go within the compound to get your ID and clearance. We look forward to hearing from you! If you have any questions, please call me directly at (000-000-0000).

Thank you,

Pepper Potts

Shocked is an understatement. You quickly throw on a band t-shirt and sweatpants before running out into the living room waving the letter and jumping up and down to your parents. You’re unable to even get a word out. Both your mom and dad get up off of the couch and take the letter. Together they read it aloud and you eagerly wait for them to realize just what this exactly means. They look up smiling widely and meet your beaming face. Simultaneously you all start cheering and jumping up and down. This is the first shred of good news your family has received in almost a year.

“My dream job!” You say, the most enthusiastically you have been in what seems like forever.

“Oh honey, we are so proud of you!” Mom says as she hugs you tightly. Your father comes up behind your mother and wraps his arms around you both. A sigh of relief comes unanimously.

You have to follow the directions from your acceptance letter to a T because you cannot use Maps in your phone to get there. But of course, can’t make the whereabouts known. It isn’t hard to tell when you have arrived. The runways for jets, collection of high end cars, or just the huge building with the giant ‘A’ on it might be an indication that you’re in the right place.

After parking your car, you flip down the visor to take one last look at yourself before heading in. It’s the first time you’ve worn make up in months, worn clothes other than sweats, and styled your hair. You run your fingers through your long, wavy brown hair to help blend the curls; Then you apply one more layer of gloss to your lips and take a deep breath. You got this, you encourage yourself.

Walking up to the building is even more intimidating than driving to the parking garage. The entrance way is made up of huge impact proof doors. As you approach, they automatically open and there to greet you is none other than the beautiful red headed Mrs. Potts.

“Hi! You must be (y/n)! I’m so excited to finally meet you! You had quite the impressive application, even Tony said so!”

Tony? As in Stark? You swallow your nervousness down at the thought.

“Hi! Wow, Mrs. Potts! Thank you-”

“Please, call me Pepper.” She smiles sweetly. You let out a slightly nervous laugh

“Pepper. Thank you again so much for the opportunity. I’ve been dreaming about this for as long as I can remember!”

Pepper hands you a black leather binder. “Well then,” She says excitedly “Let’s get you right into it!”

You follow the pair of heel clicking long legs and take in the astonishing view. There are computers everywhere, cameras in every corner, different suits from different Avengers through time on display in the walls. Just when you think you have seen it all, the next thing takes your breath away.

Mrs. Potts takes you to security for your picture, ID badge, fingerprints, a company card and clearance. It takes all of two minutes for everything to come back. Pepper smiles “Well it looks like you’re not a convicted felon.” She laughs “Either way, I’m sure one or two are hanging around here somewhere!” She smirks and then let’s out a small laugh. “Let me show you to your office, it’s on the 5th floor.”

She takes you up to the fifth floor and your office if the second door on the right hand side. You walk in, noticing just how much sunlight and the amount of space that you have. It’s taking everything you have for your jaw to not drop on the floor.

“Your desktop is all set up. Here is your first case file-” Pepper tsks through the stack of papers she is lugging around. “Ah! Here you go. Dr. Banner made some notations that he thought might be helpful from his own experiences. This is going to be you’re only case right now since it’s um..” She hesitates, but recollects herself and smiles through it. “Well it will keep you busy!” Pepper smiles as she hands over the file. “Well I’ll leave you to get settled in then!” She starts to walk out of your office but abruptly stops and turns around “Oh, and he likes to be early, just thought you should know!” She says extremely bubbly, just like everything else. You laugh to yourself as you sit down behind your desk for the first time, placing the file down in front of you.

My office....MY office. Wow.

You take in a deep breath and borderline almost pinch yourself to make sure this is real. You giddily scoot your chair forward, put your purse in one of your desk drawers and open the case file.

You freeze. All of the air just got completely sucked out of the room. The first thing you see is an old black and white picture of a handsome man smiling as he swears into the Army. But the name, the name is what nearly makes your heart stop. James Buchanan ‘Bucky’ Barnes.

Your eyes race through the file, reading as much as you can as quickly as you can. The clock on the wall is practically screaming the time as his session with you seems to be racing towards you.

‘He likes to be early...’ Fuck.

As quickly as you can, you get up and run to the door, making sure it’s open for him to feel welcome. Especially for his first session with you. Hurrying back to your desk, you once again go nose deep into Barnes’ file. You scan over his time served in the military, being experimented on, becoming a deadly assassin for Hydra, coming back after 5 years after Thanos, working diligently in Wakanda to undo mind control, and now trying to blend into society and living with the things he’s done and has to live with. You truly feel sorry for all that he has been through. While they cannot be compared on the same level, you both have experienced far more death in your lives than anyone should have to.

Looking up at the clock one last time to see how much time you have left before your first interaction with James, you are startled to already find him sitting on the couch across the room facing you. He was so stealth like that you didn’t even notice he came in.

“Oh! Sergeant Barnes! I’m so sorry I didn’t even hear you come in.”

He stands up, so you mimic his movement to go forward thinking he was going to introduce himself. You feel like a complete idiot when he hands you a piece of paper instead of shaking hands. He avoids making eye contact at all.

“When we’re done here I need you to sign this saying I was here or whatever.”

Very quick to the point I see.

You take the sheet of paper that was handed to you and set it down on your desk as you retreat back to your chair. Although he’s barely said anything, you’re intimidated by him. Which of course you cannot let on. But at the same time, this does not seem like the man who used to be on the news non-stop. While his face was as solid as stone, you noticed the shorter hair, the fact that he was still muscular but more lean and how he in completely covered from the neck down in all black, including a black leather jacket and gloves to match.

“Yes of course. My name is y/n, and it’s a pleasure to meet you Mr. Barnes.” You say in a calm tone to make it a point to not sound aggressive.

“Yeah...” He replies, looking out the window into the trees. “And it’s Bucky.” He spat back.

“Sorry, I apologize. Bucky it is then.”

The silent treatment is making this more awkward. You clear your throat.

“So Bucky, how are you adjusting to civilian life?”

Bucky snorts and rolls his eyes at your question.

“How well do you think?”

Well this is going to be interesting...

“That boring after so many years of constantly going from fight after fight, huh?”

He actually glances over. Not making eye contact, but actually looked in your general direction.

“I guess you could say that.” He says, agreeing. You keep trying to probe but not push too hard.

“Add on top of that having to conform to an entirely new society.”

This time he lets it go completely unanswered.

“Well, I know that you could possibly have everything that you need here at the Compound, but I just want you to know that I am here. My door is always open if you want to talk or if you need anything. I also live relatively close by so...” You grab a post it note and write down your number. “You can call or text me anytime, I’ll be readily available.”

“Thanks.” Short, sweet and to the point.

You get up from your desk, walking over to Bucky and handing him the post it with your number. You don’t get too close, enough to extend your arm and hand him the paper.

“I need your signature.” He says coldly.

“Right!” You scramble to your desk, finding a pen and writing the date of your session along with your signature. “Here you go...” You say, handing him the paper. He stands up and reaches for the paper and he makes eye contact with you for the first time.

“Thanks” He says again.

“It was nice meeting you, James” You say encouragingly. “I’ll see you the same time tomorrow.”

“Thanks.” He said and walked out.

We’ve got a lot of work to do... We definitely have a long road ahead of us.

Next part

#fanfic #buckybarnes whitewolf wintersoldier #bucky barnes fanfiction #tfatws #the falcon and the winter soldier #bucky imagine #bucky smut #bucky x reader #bucky x you #james bucky buchanan barnes

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jazaesis · 4 months

Text

Original SW Characters

Below is a little about my main Star Wars OCs and their tags!

Avani of Cathar

Jedi Temple Guard and founder of the Guild of Force Users.

Pronouns: she/her Born: 37 bby Era: Clone Wars Sexuality: Ace/Aro

Padawan of Master Chyaro Xalendren, Avani is deeply spiritual, compassionate, and perceptive. She possesses a strong connection to the Force, guiding her actions and interactions with others. Avani's compassionate nature is evident in her willingness to aid and support those in need. She demonstrates a sense of wisdom, resilience, and a relentless commitment to the ideals of balance and harmony within the Force.

Avani served in the Clone Wars alongside her sister Jedi General Kalon, as they led the 107th “Storm’s Edge” Battalion. Knighted during the war, Avani was permitted to participate in the Jedi Temple Guard Trials, her life long dream. Her trials lasted a week, and when she emerged, the temple was in flames…

Following the fall of the Republic, and serving the Rebellions for years, Avani found herself questioning the established norms of the Jedi Order, but still finding a need for an alternative approach to understanding and utilizing the Force. She spent many years traveling the galaxy, observing the impact of the Jedi Order on the galaxy, studying ancient force related civilizations, and the wars that left scars on the galaxy and her friends. Avani established the Guild of Force Users on the planet of Avalon, and dedicated herself to teaching the ways of the force to everyone.

Aro Rua Ris

A chronically ill, Ryloth-born Twi’lek and Jedi Knight.

Pronouns: he/him Born: 43 bby Era: Clone Wars Sexuality: MLM

Raised for the majority of his life in the Jedi Temple, Aro was a quiet, distant youngling. He frequently found himself in the Halls of Healing for mysterious ailments that hindered his training progress, and he often felt that he fell short of his peers. Despite displaying significant aptitude with his Force abilities, Aro was nearly ejected from the Initiate program due to his health before he was taken on as a Padawan by Jedi Master Ima Gun Di.

Aro was Knighted in the early months of the Clone Wars when he was 20 years old. He was given command of the 482nd Battalion where he met Clone Commander Nite. Despite Aro’s commitment to the war effort and the Jedi Order, he found himself caught in Nite’s orbit and the two of them began to form a bond that lasted the duration of the Clone Wars and beyond.

Aro is a fun loving and sarcastic, yet deeply caring person that struggles with both familial and romantic attachment. Although he had been warned against those types of relationships, Aro proved time and time again to be made stronger and more confident by those around him. He is very humble, often attributing his accomplishments to the support of those closest to him.

Commander Nite, CC-23-6483

An ARC Clone Commander and Rebel Leader.

Pronouns: he/him Decanted: ?? Era: Clone Wars Sexuality: Bi

Honorable, loyal and strong, Nite is an ARC Commander in the Grand Army of the Republic, known for his dedicated leadership alongside Jedi General Aro Rua Ris. Nite led the 482nd battalion during the Clone Wars. He can be serious yet maintains a humorous side, possessing a witty sense of humor. Nite is exceptionally skilled in battle and deeply cares for his troopers' well-being. He deeply values Aro's companionship, the two growing closer throughout the war, and eventually falling in love. Nite deeply values family, standing by Aro Rua and Thalia’s side no matter what challenges are thrown their way.

Thalia Ris & Mei

A Togruta healer.

Pronouns: she/her Born: 16 bby Era: Original Trilogy/Guild of Force Users

Adopted daughter of Aro Rua and Nite and an orphan of the Clone Wars. Thalia is extremely emphatic and can feel the emotions of those around her, she’s particularly attached to Aro and is easily concerned and upset when he’s ill. Force sensitive, but not trained as a jedi, Thalia could often see force ghosts as a young child. Thalia is the light and joy of Aro’s life, extremely compassionate to all those around her, has a deep love for animals. She’s also super artistic and loves drawing and painting. Thalia grows up to become a doctor, traveling the galaxy and aiding those in need - much like a Star Wars Doctors Without Borders. Thalia is often accompanies by her grumpy tooka Mei.

Amarinda “Arri” Amar

A Jedi learner in the Guild of Force Users.

Pronouns: she/her Born: 11 bby Era: Guild of Force Users AU Sexuality: Bi

Amarinda is a spirited and impulsive individual with a penchant for mischief and adventure. Growing up under pirate occupation on her homeworld of Caelisole instilled in her craftiness, cunning, and resourcefulness, making her adept at sneaking, bluffing, and improvised problem-solving. Despite her impetuous nature, she deeply values her friends and family, displaying loyalty and care towards them. However, she can be stubborn and holds onto grudges. Amarinda's fiery personality often drives her to take risks and act impulsively, but her good-heartedness is evident in her desire to help others, even if it leads to unforeseen consequences.

Kalon Marean

Former Jedi Shadow and First Sister Sith Inquisitor, “The Scylla.”

Pronouns: she/her Born: 53 bby Era: The Clone Wars Sexuality: Pan

Caught between two prodigies, Kalon struggled to live up to legacy left behind by Master Xalendren’s previous padawan and forge her own path through the shadows cast by the light of his new padawan. Trained by Master Chyaro Xalendren, Kalon harbored resentment toward Avani, feeling overshadowed by their shared master. Desperate to forge her own path, Kalon joined the Jedi Shadows. Her path diverged when she became a Sith Inquisitor during the Empire's reign, but eventually found redemption with the aid of Avani, reconciling with her past.

Chyaro Xalendren

Anomid Jedi Shadow, former Jedi Temple Guard.

Pronouns: he/him Born: ??? bby - idk he’s very old Era: Clone Wars

Initiated into the order at the end of the High Republic, Xalendren was raised with the oldest of Jedi traditions by his late master. After the death of his first padawan, Thayeon Tehom. Xalendren served in the Jedi Temple Guard, until his removal due to his “aggressive” approach. Xalendren took on Padawan Kalon, training her to be better and stronger. Years later, Xalendren crashed on the world of Cathar, and discovered young Avani, taking her on as his next padawan.

Experienced and knowledgeable, Xalendren is a dedicated mentor to Avani, but is quite stuck in the old traditional ways of the Jedi. His holds a high regard for hierarchy, order and tradition, and holds vast knowledge in the force, combat and negotiations.

Hala Dymostra

Pronouns: she/her/they/them Born: 15 bby Era: Original Trilogy Sexuality: lesbian

A Nightsister in the Elomnii Coven born during the reign of the Empire. As “Prya’s Eye,” Hala is dedicated to her coven and well-being of her sisters. Hala can often be found hunting in the Dathomir mountains on her orbak Magick Man or sparring with her wife, Togruta assassin Morticia.

Gaia’voshi Laparedo

A film maker from the distant outer rim, studying filmmaking on Alderaan, documenting the Clone Wars and Rebellion.

Pronouns: she/her Born: 15 bby Era: Clone Wars & Original Trilogy Sexuality: lesbian

Born on a distant agriworld in the outer rim to farmers, Gaia'voshi was raised in the great outdoor with a great appreciation to all creatures and life. At the age of 12, Gaia'voshi's family moved to Alderaan in hopes of better opportunities and land. There, Gaia'voshi fell in love with filmmaking and earned a scholarships to study at one of Alderaan's greatest universities. Gaia’voshi spent the majority of her university years traveling the galaxy documenting cultures and communities. At the start of the Clone Wars, Gaia voshi realized she could use the power of her voice through documentation and journalism to raise awareness and support for civilians & troops. This project would go on to be called "A Galaxy Divided: Beneath the Fire.”

Gaia is joined by her film droid "Beq,” trusted ottabura, Leto (original species by @/sundownsquad), and later her speed-racer girlfriend Lu-Dal Kore. Gaia is an open character! Check more info here.

Golden Guard Raze, CT-21-0019

A clone trooper serving with the Jedi Temple Guards.

Pronouns: he/him Decanted: ?? Era: Clone Wars

During the Clone Wars, Jedi Knights aided in the war efforts through supporting the Grand Army of the Republic (GAR) through the Orders partnership with the Senate. Jedi Knights, often acting a Generals or leadership roles, accompanied Troopers into battle and lead operations. However, this meant the Jedi were limited in their abilities to oversee certain operations by the powers of Senate. The Jedi Temple Guards were crucial in the protection of Jedi temples across the galaxy and investigating force-related matters. However, since the Temple Guards solely operated under the jurisdiction of the Jedi Order, not the Senate, they were often unable to complete investigations, especially in matters involving the war or Separatists.

So, the Jedi Head of Security, Din Drallig, made a special request to the Jedi Council and Senate to have a trooper placed with the Temple Guards. This trooper would allow the Temple Guards to operate in war related matters. The trooper, ultimately selected by Commander Fox himself, was Coruscant Guard Special Ops Raze.

Raze, later nicknamed the Golden Guard for his gold detailed armor, accompanied the Temple Guards in investigations, battles, and galactic conflicts. While Raze may don the golden symbols of the Temple Guards, he himself was not a Jedi, nor force sensitive, and such, was not permitted in restricted zones of the Jedi Temple. Raze further is not privy to the secrets of the Temple Guards.

#Star Wars #Star Wars ocs #about #my ocs

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swan-of-sunrise · 1 year

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Sunshine

Summary: Steve pays a visit to the Smithsonian’s new exhibit honoring Captain America, and a little bit of sunshine unexpectedly breaks through his cloudy day.

Pairing: Steve Rogers X Reader

Word Count: 3.4k

Warning/Disclaimers: Disclaimer for a candid depiction of depression and its symptoms, and brief depictions of PTSD

A/N: I wanted to start this new one-shot collection off with a look into Steve’s POV, specifically when he meets (Y/N) in the Smithsonian. It was my favorite moment to write in The Winter Soldier and I had so much fun revisiting it from a new perspective! Thank you all so much for reading, and I hope that you enjoy!

Sunshine March 2014 Smithsonian National Air and Space Museum, Washington D.C. (Fanfiction Masterlist)

Although it had been over two years since he’d been discovered alive and frozen in time within the wrecked remnants of Schmidt’s plane, Steve Rogers still didn’t quite know what to do with himself. He had work, of course; completing missions on behalf of S.H.I.E.L.D. was familiar, reminiscent of his past and all the work he’d done alongside the SSR as the leader of the 107th tactical team throughout the war. But outside of work, he struggled to find ways to keep himself occupied. The notebook he filled with seventy years of various pop culture references kept him busy but as his understanding of the 21st century grew, so too did the disconnect he felt from the people and places that surrounded him.

So, on a beautiful spring afternoon that others were no doubt spending with their friends and family, Steve found himself sitting alone in the screening room of the Smithsonian Air and Space Museum’s ‘Captain America: A Living Legend and Symbol of Courage’ exhibit. The filmed testimonials of various men and women who’d been directly or indirectly impacted by his actions included an emotionally-charged interview of Peggy Carter from the early 1950’s, several years after the creation of S.H.I.E.L.D. and her promotion to its first Director. Her hairstyle was different and her brown eyes had the hardened look of someone who’d seen far too much pain in such a short span of time, but to Steve she looked exactly the same as she had when they’d fought through Schmidt’s mountain fortress together in 1945.

“That was a difficult winter. A blizzard had trapped half our battalion behind the German line. Steve…Captain Rogers, he fought his way through a Hydra blockade that had pinned our allies down for months.”

Steve remembered the battle, just as he remembered each and every battle before and after. His elevated body temperature and high metabolism kept him from feeling the chill of the blizzard that raged on as he fought, but nothing in the super-soldier serum could keep his body from going numb when he saw the frozen and broken bodies of hundreds of soldiers scattered amongst the snow. He squeezed his eyes shut to stop himself from visualizing the explosions ripping through Panzers and hearing the roaring gunfire ricocheting off his vibranium shield, and he took a deep breath before opening his eyes and refocusing on Peggy.

“He saved over a thousand men, including the man who would…who would become my husband, as it turned out. Even after he died, Steve was still changing my life.”

He looked down at the compass in his hands and studied the black-and-white photograph he’d clipped out of a newspaper back in ‘44. He was happy that Peggy had gotten to live a long and happy life surrounded by loved ones and he made sure to tell her every time he visited her in the nursing home, but he couldn’t help but envy her a little; she’d lived the life he’d always wanted back before he took the serum and became Captain America, but after all he’d seen and done since, he wasn’t even sure what sort of life he wanted to live. He was lost in an unfamiliar world filled with people who believed he should be grateful for a chance at a new life and who didn’t care to know how he truly felt about his situation. It didn’t take him very long to learn that only one thing remained constant after seventy years: the rest of the world only saw Captain America, the Star-Spangled-Man-With-A-Plan, and not Steven Grant Rogers, the kid from Brooklyn who hated bullies and who only wanted to do the right thing.

The video continued to play as Steve stood and exited the screening room, slipping his hands into his jacket’s pockets and bowing his head while he went. The rest of the exhibit was filled with tourists eagerly examining artifacts from his life before and during his time of service, and Steve felt a familiar twinge of discomfort at the sight; it’s like they don’t understand that they belonged to real people and not characters from a story, he thought to himself as he walked past a group of young adults snidely critiquing Dum Dum Dugan’s combat gear displayed on a mannequin along with the rest of the 107th tactical team. There were far fewer people near the display dedicated to Bucky, so Steve gravitated towards it and studied the old photograph of his best friend; he was smiling and there was still a sparkle of life in his eyes, eyes that hadn’t yet seen the brutality of war, the unspeakable horrors concocted by the Nazis and the gruesome torture inflicted on him by Hydra while he was a POW.

Steve’s memories of Bucky and that fateful mission in the Alps were suddenly interrupted when the young woman standing in front of him turned and collided with his chest, dropping her notebook onto the ground and scattering its loose papers across the floor; she immediately knelt and began gathering up the sheets and Steve winced at the accident he’d inadvertently caused. “Sorry! Here, let me help you with that.” He kneeled on the ground before her and assisted her. “I wasn’t paying attention, I’m sorry-”

“I’m the one who should say sorry, I was so wrapped up in writing that I didn’t see…” The young woman’s voice faltered when she looked up from their shared work and her (Y/E/C) eyes widened in recognition. “Steve?”

Steve’s own eyes widened as he finally recalled just where he’d seen the woman before. “(Y/N), right? From yesterday morning?”

(Y/N) nodded. “That’s me.” She took the papers and tucked them inside her well-worn notebook as they stood. “What brings you to the Smithsonian?”

He shrugged and took a moment to adjust the bill of his baseball cap while he thought up a suitable answer. “I had the day off, and I guess I just wanted to see what all the fuss was about. What about you?”

“Research,” She answered with a smile as she proudly brandished her notebook. “I’m writing a novel, so I was looking up information on Soviet Cold War-era missiles. Then when I finished with that, I thought I’d also see what all the fuss was about. I actually had another spark of writing inspiration before I smacked into you just now.”

Steve’s brows rose with interest. “You’re a writer? Have I heard of any of your work before?”

“Well, this novel I’m working on is actually my first.” They both stepped aside to let a group of schoolchildren read Bucky’s display. “I’m trying to become a historical fiction novelist, and I chose to write about the Cold War for my first novel.” Steve couldn’t help but admire the brightness in her smile and how the simple gesture illuminated her entire face, so much so that he nearly missed her question. “So, what do you think? Is everything here historically accurate?”

“Pretty much. What do you think of it?”

(Y/N) considered his question for a moment before answering. “I don’t know yet; on one hand, I think it’s great that an exhibit like this exists to educate people, especially children, about history, but part of me can’t stop thinking that it’s also an invasion of privacy.” Taken slightly aback by her reply, Steve frowned in confusion and watched as she gestured towards the many display cases surrounding them. “Like these, for example. These are private sketches of your family and friends that I’m sure you never meant for others to see. And over there, they have your underwear on display, for God’s sake!” A nearby middle-aged couple threw her a disapproving glare at her exclamation and Steve did his best to stifle his chuckle. “I don’t know, I think that they should show more respect when they create exhibits like this, especially if the person they’re about is still alive. You may be Captain America, but that doesn’t mean you don’t deserve a little privacy, too.” The earnestness and underlying indignation in her words of defense took him by surprise, and it wasn’t until her head tilted to the side in curiosity that he registered the small smile playing on his own lips. “What is it?”

“Nothing…you just sound a little different from most of the people I’ve met since coming out of the ice.” Steve looked over at his best friend’s display and awkwardly cleared his throat as he struggled to keep their conversation going. “It’s lucky that I ran into you, actually, I was gonna try and stop by the VA today but I have no idea what the address is.”

“Oh, I’ve got it right here!” She reached into her pocket for her cell phone and began tapping away. “Let me see, where did I-ah, found it! It’s 50 Irving Street Northwest. All you have to do is go down North Capitol-wait, it might be 6th Street instead…and of course, no signal in here…” A small line formed between her brows as she frowned. “Urgh, if I had my car with me, I’d just give you a ride since I’m going there later anyways but Sam took it to work this morning…”

“I could always give you a ride, if you want?” Steve blurted out, praying that he wouldn’t start blushing as she considered his abrupt but sincere offer. “It’d be no trouble at all.”

(Y/N)’s smile brightened her expression and she nodded. “Okay, then. I’m pretty much done here, so just let me know when you wanna leave.”

“Let’s go.” They walked out of the exhibit and Steve snuck a clandestine look at the writer walking beside him; she was undoubtably pretty, with strikingly intelligent (Y/E/C) eyes and lips that seemed perpetually ready to curve into a teasing smile, and just as he’d done the day before when they’d first met by the National Mall, he compared her to sunshine breaking through a cloudy sky. She was vivacious and so full of life – a shining example of a modern 21st century woman – but at the same time, something about the way she talked and carried herself reminded him of a different time. He’d gone on a couple of dates since coming out of the ice but up to that point, the only woman he felt comfortable being around was Natasha, his coworker and occasional mission partner at S.H.I.E.L.D.; with (Y/N), though, he felt unusually at ease and the only discomfort came from the shyness she brought out in him. C’mon, Rogers, there’s nothing scary about just talking to her, he scolded himself before swallowing thickly and speaking up. “So, how far along are you with your novel?”

“I’m actually almost done with it, thank God. Not that I don’t enjoy writing, of course, but some days it feels like I’ve been writing this thing for a decade.” (Y/N) hitched the strap of her messenger bag higher on her shoulder and flashed him a thankful smile as he held the museum’s front door open for her. “Today was my last day of research. All I need to do is finish writing the last few chapters and then I can send them to my publisher for final approval.”

Steve smiled at the enthusiasm he detected in her voice. “Have you already chosen a title?”

“It’s called For Queen and Country, but there’s a funny story about how that came to be. I originally titled it The Détente Paradox, because the novel chronicles how a female MI5 agent discovers a plot to infiltrate and destabilize peace talks between the United States and the U.S.S.R.; my publisher argued that even if American readers knew the English translation, they wouldn’t understand the story from the title alone-”

“The Relaxation Paradox; makes perfect sense to me.” Steve felt himself flush as (Y/N)’s brows rose in surprise. “I, um, speak a little French. Sorry, you were saying?”

She looked impressed as they made their way towards the museum’s parking lot. “The criticism got under my skin and I couldn’t think of anything else until one night, my publisher called me after binge-watching some classic James Bond movies with his wife. In a couple of them, James Bond sometimes says he does the things he does as a spy ‘for Queen and country,’ and-wait, do you know about James Bond?”

“Nope, but I’ll go ahead and add him to the list,” Steve replied as he pulled out his notebook and jotted down the fictional spy’s name.

“So anyway, my publisher convinced me to change the title to For Queen and Country. I’d hate to boost his ego, but it sounds a lot better than anything I thought of.”

Tucking the notebook back into his pocket, Steve scanned the parking lot for any potential threats while he remarked, “In my day, authors usually sent a completed novel to a publisher instead of sending it in separate parts. I guess that’s changed, too?”

“No, that hasn’t changed; this publishing company’s co-owned by one of my old friends from high school who also happens to be the only person I trust to edit my writing. My situation is a little unorthodox, though; to convince his publishing partner to give a first-time novelist like me a chance, he’s been giving him some of my short stories to read. His partner likes them so far, so as long as I keep sending in things that he enjoys he might agree to publish my novel once it’s finished.”

Steve hummed to himself, even more impressed by the writer walking beside him than he already was. “Sounds stressful.”

“Well, it’s not ideal but it makes balancing research and work a little easier, and I’m not about to quit now, not while I’m so close to being published.” (Y/N) shrugged and looked over at him with a kindly smile on her face. “But what about you? What’re you doing to keep busy these days?”

Hastily deciding that (Y/N) didn’t need to know how he spent his free time alternating between visits with his ninety-three year old first love and moping alone in his apartment, Steve replied, “I work for S.H.I.E.L.D. Whenever I have some free time I read the internet and go through my list to mark things off. I didn’t have much to do this morning, so I listened to some of the soundtrack from American Graffiti; it’s not what I’m used to, but I liked it. All the songs sound unique from one another.”

The writer’s eyes lit up when he mentioned her music recommendation, and he felt his heart stutter at the beautiful sight. “Right? My mom was born in the sixties so she grew up listening to that type of music. Whenever my brother and I had to help on chore day, she’d put on her old records so that we’d have something fun to listen to while we cleaned the house.” They walked through the parking lot and as they turned down an aisle, Steve subtly checked that they weren’t being followed while an unaware (Y/N) continued to talk. “Sam thinks that music from that era is too cheesy, but this is also the guy who thinks that Marvin Gaye’s better than Jimi Hendrix so what the hell does he know?” He stopped beside his motorcycle and she sucked in a quick breath. “Is this yours?”

“Yep, it’s a Harley-Davidson Street 750. The one back there in the exhibit’s a Harley, too, a modified ’42 WLA Liberator. I’ve always preferred motorcycles to cars, so it was nice to see that they haven’t changed too much over the-” The rest of his sentence died in his throat when he caught sight of the unreadable expression on (Y/N)’s face, and his heart instantly plummeted in his chest. “I’m sorry, I should’ve told you that I didn’t have a car. If you’re not comfortable with-”

“No, no, it’s okay, I’ve always wanted to ride a motorcycle!” (Y/N)’s exclamation took him by surprise, but he managed to return her excited smile with one of his own. “Do you have a spare helmet?” He pulled a helmet out of the bike’s back compartment and tossed his baseball cap into it, trying his best not to think about how cute she looked when she placed the helmet on her head. “Wait, what about yours?”

Steve flashed her a teasing grin. “Super-soldier, remember?” She rolled her eyes as he swung a leg over the bike and sat, giving the empty space behind him a pat before placing his hands back on the handlebars. “Hop on.” She followed his direction with less than perfect grace, doing her best to respect his personal space while also trying her hardest not to fall flat on her face, and Steve bit back a smile as he watched her progress in the rearview mirror. “I’ll be able to hear you over the engine noise, so feel free to give directions as we go. And make sure to hold on tight, okay?”

“Sir, yes, sir!”

Chuckling, Steve revved up the engine and backed out of the parking spot; the writer seated behind him predictably panicked at the sudden movement and involuntarily moved her hands from beneath her seat to rest on his waist, causing Steve to blush as he gently took hold of her hands and guided her to wrap her arms around his torso. If he weren’t a super-soldier with heightened abilities, he almost certainly would’ve crashed the motorcycle because of how distracted he found himself by (Y/N)’s presence. He could feel the warmth of her body through his jacket and smell the faint scent of her perfume as she clung onto him and on a wild impulse, he sped up and grinned when she shrieked in delight and tightened her hold on him. True to his word, he heard her give him directions amidst her laughter and much to his disappointment, they reached the VA in under fifteen minutes.

Steve parked the motorcycle in front of the building and switched off the engine before turning in his seat to look at his beaming passenger. “So, how was your first ever motorcycle ride?”

“Amazing!” She held onto his shoulders as she clambered off the bike and removed the helmet. “I might even have to trade in my baby for one!” Steve’s eyes widened at her remark, and she hastily shook her head. “No, no, that’s just my dumb nickname for my Volkswagen Bug! I don’t have an actual baby, of course, and if I did I certainly wouldn’t trade it…um, so yeah, no baby…and no guy, either, in case you were wondering. I’m single, single like a Pringle.” (Y/N) cringed at her own words and dropped her head in her hand to avoid eye-contact. “You can stop my dumb rambling anytime now, Steve…”

Steve’s grin widened. “Don’t worry, it’s not dumb. Entertaining, yeah, but definitely not dumb.”

The writer shot him a glare that would’ve intimidated him if it hadn’t looked so adorable on her. “You know, you’re a lot more of a pain in the ass than the history books make you out to be.”

Just as he was prepared to say something flirtatious, his cell phone chimed with a notification and when he looked to see what it was, his heart sank in his chest and reality came crashing back down on him.

Nurse Alia: Mrs. Carter’s been having a rough day. Might do her some good to see an old familiar face.

Steve tucked his cell phone back into his pocket and looked back up at a confused (Y/N) with an apologetic expression on his face. “I’m sorry but I’ve gotta go, something just came up. I’ll try and make it for the end of the meeting, though.”

“Okay, I’ll be sure to let Sam know!” Their fingers brushed as he took the helmet from her and stowed it away, and she gave him a half-hearted wave as he revved the engine and backed out of the parking spot. He returned her wave and sped off down the street, the image of (Y/N) standing by herself on the sidewalk with a befuddled expression on her face burned into his memory while he navigated the streets of D.C. to reach Peggy’s retirement home. But while he drove, he recalled the way his heart lurched when (Y/N) smiled at him, how lovely her laughter sounded as he gave her her first ride on a motorcycle and just how – for the briefest of moments – he hadn’t felt so alone and unseen. Like sunshine breaking through a cloudy sky, he thought to himself once again, resolving to see the writer who uncovered Steve Rogers from beneath the façade of Captain America again as soon as he could.

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

A/N: This was my first time writing from Steve’s POV, so let me know how you liked it so I can decide if I wanna write from his POV in a future one-shot! Thank you all so much for reading and commenting, and I hope that you enjoyed it!

Spotify Playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3ziGMhEsAw833GQ9eV44nR?si=6dfead09c76848d5

The Falcon and the Winter Soldier (Part I)

Stumblin’ In Book VII: “Superhero Snapshots” Masterlist

Stumblin’ In Book I: “The Winter Soldier” Masterlist

Tagging: @mrs-obrien @lahoete @awkward117 @cminr @natdrunk @momc95 @savedbystyle @miraculouscloud @awkwardnesshabitat @marinettepotterandplagg @mangosandmimosas @supersouthy @benakenalove @brooke0297 @hufflepeople @becausewelie @outoftheregular @junipermurdock @ladydmalfoy @mads-weasley @username23345 @crist1216 @capswife @lilmschild @avngrsinitiative @crowleysqueenofhell @y-napotat @mary1raven @groovy-lady @ljej95 @innersublimefury @prettysbliss

#stumblin in #steve rogers x reader #captain america x reader #steve rogers #captain america #sam wilson #falcon #natasha romanoff #black widow #peggy carter #director carter #nick fury #director fury #bucky barnes #the winter soldier #marvel cinematic universe

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theworldofwars · 8 months

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A soldier at Camp Hughes stands next to a sign bearing the emblem of the 107th Battalion (Timber Wolfs).

#ww1 #wwi #great war #The Great War #The First World War #photography #historical photography #history #historical photos #British history #military history #canadian history #1918 #1917 #1916 #siberia

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atlanticcanada · 10 months

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New flag unveiled raised in honour of Canadas No. 2 Construction Battalion

The No. 2 Construction Battalion, Canada’s first all-Black regiment, didn’t have a flag to call their own -- until Wednesday.

The group was first created on July 5, 1916, during the First World War. The regiment boasted the largest Black unit in Canadian history, and while many never went into battle on the front lines, the No. 2 Construction Battalion performed a large number of support tasks.

Now, on the 107th anniversary of the battalions creation, a flag has been unveiled and proudly raised during a ceremony at the Gagetown 5th Canadian Division Support Base just outside of Oromocto, N.B.

“This was a journey I never thought was possible,” says Captain Kevin Junor, who has long championed for more recognition for the No. 2 Construction Battalion. “There aren’t too many occasions where you get to see a flag raised for the first time.”

The legacy of the group is well known in Nova Scotia, but the battalion has gained more national attention in recent years. In 2022, Prime Minister Justin Trudeau issued a formal apology for the racism the men endured during the Great War.

The regiment has also been issued a stamp of their own, and this past February, as part of Black History Month, a pure silver coin was unveiled commemorating their achievements.

Junor says he is pleased to see the rest of the nation learn about an important part of Canada’s history.

“They were recruited across Canada,” Junor states. “So it’s time for the rest of the country to realize that they have a piece in this cake.”

That sentiment is echoed by Jennifer Dow, who is a descendant from an original battalion. She also lives on the Gagetown grounds with her husband who serves in the military, making the ceremony extra special.

“I drive by multiple times a week,” says Dow. “My husband works near here, so to see that flag being raised and to be here and see the memory of those soldiers being preserved is incredible.”

“All that see the flag here at this base will ask the question, ‘what does that represent?’” Says Nova Scotia Black Cultural Centre executive director Russell Grosse. “They will be told of the brave men in the No. 2 Construction Battalion.”

Grosse has also long pushed for more recognition for the battalion.

As the prime minister apologized last year in Nova Scotia, Canadians flew in around the country to witness the moment, and share their stories of the battalion.

“People are coming forward with new stories,” Grosse says. “They are coming up with the fact they had members in their families that served and they weren’t aware. So it’s great that the legacy is continuing on, and is going on beyond the humble shores of Nova Scotia where the battalion had its birth.”

The 30th annual No. 2 Construction Battalion remembrance ceremony and honour parade will be held along the town’s waterfront on Saturday in Pictou, N.S.

from CTV News - Atlantic https://ift.tt/BpPQv9i

#new brunswick #prince edward island #nova scotia #news #politics #canada #CTVAtlantic

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bechdelexam · 1 year

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anyways i wonder how steve rusnack felt when he risked internment to illegally join the cef from a desire to assimilate into the anglo-canadian mainstream only to be sent to the 107th pioneer battalion, the most native battalion in the cef.

#they were the timber wolf battalion which i mean is kinda cool but also feels like the name of the high school volleyball team

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ohtobeleah · 3 years

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He knew you. The second your eyes locked onto his, full of anger and hurt and sorrow. Bucky knew that pain—the inability to control yourself. Screaming for someone to help you from the inside but nothing seems to come out. He knew you, but he knew you didn’t know him.

“Charlotte?” Bucky whispered through heavy breaths, holding you around the next with his vibranium arm. Your hands clawing at him—body begging for release. Sending a knife into the side of his thigh. Bucky hissed when he let your go—watching as you fumbled for one of the discarded guns that laid on the concrete. “Charlotte! Don’t—“ it felt like Bucky was caught in some fucked up time loop. The words that fell from your mouth made his stomach churn. He’d been there—he knew exactly what it was like to be locked inside yourself, to not know who you are.

“Who the hell is Charlotte” you hissed, firing a shot at Sam who flew past. Pushing a stunned Bucky to the ground and swooping out unscathed. Bucky stumbled to his feet—looking around for answers, left with nothing when he’d seen you had disappeared, clearly distressed and injured. Only fearing the people you were running back to.

***~***~***~***~***~

Bucky held in tears as he walked through the Smithsonian institution’s display of Steve Rogers, the howling commandos and of course, Charlotte McLeod. The only member of the 107th to never make it home after Steve had fought his way into save hundreds of lives. Bucky listened as the auto voice over played—watching as the screen played video footage of him dancing. Swinging you around in your nursing uniform. You smiled at the camera. Before you’d both been shipped off—Bucky smiled as he watched a younger version of himself dip you down and kiss your lips. Your hands cupping his cheeks. Lifting his hat from the top of his head and placing it on your own. Laughing. He could still hear it.

“Second Lieutenant Charlotte McLeod, a soul most dedicated to helping the men who’d return from battle. Often disobeying commands—Charlotte would often find herself on the front line with the 107th battalion, saving hundreds of lives with triage as soon as injury occurred. A life saver, a hero, Charlotte McLeod was the only member of the nurses army coup whom frequently worked alongside the 107th to not be rescued during Steven Rogers heroic takedown of Hilters rouge Nazi science division, Hyrda, where members of the 107th were being held captive.”

“So that’s her huh?” Sam voice broke through Bucky’s thoughts. Standing beside him, taking in the history. Bucky just hummed. Don’t being able to stop looking at you, so happy, so ready to help out. You weren’t ever afraid. “That’s the super soldier from yesterday?”

“I’m positive Sam—her eyes.” it was all rushing back. The memory of you.

“How?”

“Zola experimented on her, we were both kept in his lab, it’s like I compartmentalised my memories of her until I saw her damn eyes.” Bucky balled his fist—angry at himself. “Guess it worked on her just as much as it worked on me, I didn’t know what they did to her at the time or if it was the same as what they did to me—but it makes sense.”

“That’s not your fault man, none of this is, we’ll track her down—“ Bucky knew Sam was right, but he couldn’t help the guilt that lived inside him. His memory flooding back to him. To you.

***~***~***~***~***~

“Are you okay?” You cooed as you ran your thumb over Bucky’s temple. He nodded in response as he reached over to run the pad of his thumb over your bottom lip, a small split bleeding more then he’d like it to be.

“Such a nurse, c’mon McLeod I know you don’t really care about me—“ Bucky teased, watching you chuckle in response. Your uniform dirty and blood stained just as much as his. You shouldn’t be here, but you wouldn’t fall back. Not with Bucky.

“Such a jerk Barnes.”

“You know when I get you out of here I’m gonna take you on that date I owe you.” Bucky smirked, trying his best to get your mind of the situation you were in.

“Really, where are you gonna take me?” You asked. Your hand playing with the base of Bucky’s shift, twisting and twirling the fabric between your fingers. Absentmindedly.

“That new burger joint down the street from that one alley Steve loves to get beat up in.”

“The one near the barbershop where you get your hair cut?”

“That’s the one—“

“Hmm.” You leaned into Bucky, his arms embracing you. Kissing the top of your head. “Sounds like a date Buck.”

“Sounds like a date Lotty.” The nickname sending butterflies through your stomach—even in such awful circumstances Bucky was the light of your life. “Gonna get you out of here yeah? Gonna get you back so you can tell old man Sal down the street how much of a hero you are.”

“Stupid old man.” You chuckled through your own tears. “He was right though, I should’ve just brought stock, put a bullet in the barrel of my best guys gun.”

“Wouldn’t of done much.” Bucky looked at you as he whipped your tears. “Just means I’d be stuck in here without you.” You could hear the sounds of guard’s coming down the corridor—opening the cell door you and a bunch of the 107th were being kept in. Watching as one of the men Grabbed Bucky, feeling your arm being ripped apart as you were dragged to the ground, your knees being cut up. Bucky tried to fight the guard. Tasting the back of a rifle soon after. The guards spoke a language you couldn’t interpret. You screamed as the guard gripped your hair tightly dragged you out of the cell as they led Bucky out as well—his arms twisted behind his back.

“Charlotte!!” Bucky yelled, still fighting for his life, for your life as they dragged you down towards an office you’d watched others be brought to before. Never seeing them again. ”don’t you fucking touch her do you here me!? Let her go!!” Bucky spat. But it was pointless. Being dragged to your feet you gasped when you felt the barrel of a gun in your lower back. Looking at Bucky with fearful eyes. Bottom lip quivering. Hands raising slowly to the back of your head.

“In, move, now—“ the guard spoke as you walked through the door, Bucky was lead in seconds after you. Looking around you saw tables with brown leather straps, medical instruments, things in jars that made your stomach squirm, maps, and a desk littered with paper and reports. A short man with glasses stood in the corner. He smiled wickedly.

“One of each, brilliant! fräulein.” Addressing you as you shook. “Strip—now, I’d like to begin my experiments, I’ve made slight adjustments to my formula.” One of the guards started ripped at your uniform. Pushing you towards the table with the straps.

“No-“ you cried. “No no no—no please—“

“I said don’t you fucking touch her!” Bucky yelled as more guards moved him to his own table. Forcing him down and onto the table, straps securing him in. Helpless as he listened to your screams. Watching your clothes be torn from you. Exposing you—bra and underwear the only things not leaving you completely and utterly on display. Restraints holding you down.

“Bucky—“ you sobbed, it broke his heart.

“I’m here.” He replied. “I’m here, I’m not going anywhere.”

“Sweet.” Zola mocked as he came at you with needle after needle. Bucky listened to your painful screams. Fighting against his own restraints to get to you. Your blood burned, it stung. The more the mad man pushed into you, vile after vile, your screams got louder and louder. More painful the. The last.

“Charlotte?” Bucky cried when he couldn’t hear you anymore, “you okay?” There was no response. Bucky couldn’t see through his own tears.

“Take her to the truck, when you arrive wait to see if there’s any change, if there is even the slightest bit put her into the chamber—“ Bucky watched as guards undid your restraints, picking you up and throwing your limp body over their shoulders.

“Lotty!” Bucky screamed as you were removed from his view. “Charlotte I love you!!” He cried. “Don’t take her from me, please.” He begged. Zola just smiled as he plunged one of many needles into Bucky’s skin. Cries turning to screams of agony. Zola leaned in—feeding of the pain he inflicted.

“Don’t worry, she’ll be the best of you.”

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #ohtobeleah #marvel mcu #bucky barnes fluff #sebastian stan #tfatws #bucky barnes angst #bucky fic #bucky barnes x you #Bucky Barnes x whimper

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ww2photoarchive · 3 years

Photo

The captured Panzer III medium tank from the Soviet 107th separate tank battalion

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sun-roach · 11 months

Text

And here is also a lil smth about Fork

How Fork got his name:

As a cadet Fork was that one clone, who would eat soup with a fork. He would eat everything with a fork. He always got teased for it, and one day vode started to just call him Fork.

At first he felt embarrassed, but his batch made him accept this name, after sneaking a fork to him, when he started to cry over a stressful exam. Fork had to laugh, because of the awkward try to comfort him. They had looked so genuinely worried and didn’t use "fork" in any teasing manner. They just understood that he just likes forks.

#oc: fork #my ocs my beloved #lieutenant fork #107th battalion #star wars #tcw #sw tcw #oc: Strife #is one of his batchmates #star wars oc

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toebeansandotherbaes · 2 years

Note

Yoooooo what's your pfp? Mind talking about it? 👀✨✨✨

It is a combo of the symbols of each of my main four OCs and Hunter's 99.

So top to bottom left to right we have represented:

Shiv with the 104th wolf pack emblem

Paws with Coruscant guard

Mesh'la's 501st gear

And Flack's 107th heavy artillery.

I had fun making it actually. Flack's is one of the heavy artillery canons we see on Coruscant (I think?) With the Zillo beast I chose the lime green and orange gold colors since they weren't seen in any cannon battalions.

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thisonesforfanfic · 4 years

Text

Light in the dark (1/?)

Buky x Reader

Author’s Note: This first part is more of an introdutcion to the character. It might just be boring. Also I have no idea on the warnings I should make, please let me know and I will edit it in <3

Summary: You are working as a nurse on an american camp in Italy. Waiting for your brother to come back from a failed mission, you meet Captain America after a failed show he did on the site.

Word Count: 2.3k

P.S. I was inspired by @webslingingspiderling, thinking of a prequel to one of their series. I might be going on a differeent direction later, though

You were desperate to find him, to see him again meant everything to you at that point. Your brother had left for an infiltration mission and no one in the camp had heard anything in days, it didn't take a genius to conclude it meant bad news, you wouldn't allow yourself to lose hope, though. While taking care of some of the wounded that managed to get back, you overheard some of them saying a huge part of the batallion was taken, and were being held captive.

This was meant to be a pleasent surprise, you had asked to be transfered to where Y/B/N's unit was, so you could be with him since you were both serving the country in your own way. He was a great soldier, no doubt, your parents had raised warriors, but you were definitely the best nurse there was with the American troops in Europe.

"Who would have thought" Y/B/N said proudly while putting his hands on your sholder "the kids of an immigrant going off to war to save the country that saved him" It was the first tour for both of you, you were terrified to be separated from him, sad you were not tasked with the enfermary at his battalion

Keeping your head down so Y/B/N couln't see the tears coming "Dad would be very proud of you br-"

"Proud of us!" He quickly cut you off, while putting a stran of your hair behind your ear, then raising your chin to look in your eyes " I might be running of with a gun in my hand, but you are the one that will be keeping us in one piece after all" he cuckles "but in all seriousness, I count on you to patch my ass up"

"Well you better not need it!" you stated, starting to get angry just at the thought of seeing him wounded "I might be good at it, but if you ever need to lay on my hospital beds I will make sure you regret it"

He laughed at your threats, "You know I'll always make it back to you in one piece Y/N"

He'd better.

Pulling you out of your memories, you heard quite a comotion outside of the medical quarters, you stepped outside to see the soldiers rallying around the stage.

"Go watch it!" Megan, one of the few people you would call a friend, whispered to you "You need some distraction right now, you look awful, plus, from all the posters, that captain guy looks like quite the eyecandy" You laughed at her comment, Megan was always trying to pin you up with some handsome soldier, ever since she got married to some airforce big shot she was trying to find you someone on a rank.

You understood her point of view, to her you were alone, not counting on your brother to help you out from now on, she wanted you to be protected, but you didn't want to think about it, and you knew you could fend for yourself if need be.

"Alright mrs. Nurse" you said with a laugh, you liked calling people mr. and mrs. as a sign of respect, even if you knew them on a name basis, especially when it made people a little uneasy. Megan hated it when you called her that way, so you laughed as she stuck her tongue out "I'm going, cover for me, will you?"

"Of couse my mrs. Y/L/N" as she practically pushed you out the door.

---

The whole thing was terrible. That is, he was a good looking guy, and the soldiers loved the girls dancing, but damn, that show was meant to be played anywhere else but here. When Captain America ended his speech, you could see he wanted to burry his face on the ground, the soldiers were mocking him, soon enough they were throwing stuff and calling for the girls to get back onstage.

"Bunch of animals" you whispered to yourself, rolling your eyes as you walked to the back of the poorly established stage, wanting to see if the man was OK after those soldiers' behavior 'it might have been bad, but the man's just doing what he was told' you thought. You quickly spotted the soldier sitting on the steps next to a couple of empty racks.

"Are you alright Mr. Captain?" you approached slowly, trying to make him feel a little better but he barely moved, he was focused on the notebook he had on his hands.

"I'm fine maam, thanks", you could feel in his voice and posture he was pretty sad about the whole thing, but still trying to be as kind and polite as possible. You spotted the circus monkey he had drew, with the same costume he was wearing.

Poor man

"I don't want to be invasive," you continued, wishing to make the man feel better "- but you did probably just present yourself to the thoughest crowd at their thoughest moment this week, so don't be so hard on yourself" you offered the kindest smile you could as you took a seat by his side.

"I was stupid to not have thought that awful speech wouldn't worked here", the soldier finally picked his head up and looked at you "But why would you say this is their thoughest moment miss...?" He was eager to better understand his situation, while still being as polite as he could

"Y/L/N, mr. Captain, but please, call me Y/N".

"In that case, drop the mr... Call me Steve" he said while offering his hand out.

"Well Mr. Steve" you shook his hand while wearing a grin on your face, making him smile briefly "unfortunately, those guys just lost a lot of companions, they are maybe a quarter of the whole squad that was sent out a couple of days ago" now your voice was starting to shake with the terrible thoughts of what could have happened to Y/B/N.

"I should've thought..." He whispered to himself as you sniffed the tears away

Strugling to put the smile back on you continued "Well, if it makes you feel a little less pessimist, some of the guys I took care of on the medic ward said a great portion of those men are being held captive at a Hydra base.... Although I'm starting to think I will never see Y/B/N ever again" the smile faded with every word that went of your moutht, you couldn't even pretend to be optimist at that moment, your world was falling apart

"Hey miss Y/N, please don't be sad, you'll see your love again" he said, while putting his arms around you trying to console you. You let out a small chuckle with the comment, lifting your head up from your hands to say he was actually your brother. he hugged you thighter, offering a shoulder for you to cry on, but you just let him hold you for a while, it felt nice to have someone, possibly a friend, that understood your pain at that moment.

"This was meant to be a pleasent surprise, you know" you started to tell him as you pulled away from his warm and comforting hug. "These are meant to be my last couple of weeks in service before going back home for a while... You see, since I'm an immigrant nurse, people would hardly ever let me know the location of his battalion, under the belief I could be a spy, so we have barely written eachother" you paused to take a breath before the tears took control of you." When I finally discovered where he was and stated, I asked to be transfered here, to see him, since I don't have a clue when he's going home, and a letter would have taken way too much time. But he- he wasn't here" a few tears streamed down your face before you wiped them away "To my misfortune, his name is on the missing or presumed dead of the 107th"

You saw the Captain's eyes widening "the 107th you said?" He had worry, fear and pain mixed on his glance. You could see the million thoughts racing through your mind, as if you had just shot him in the stomach.

"Yes, Steve" An unfamiliar voice came from behind.

A beautiful brunnette was standing right above the steps you sat on. Despite the confusion in his eyes, you could see she made him feel more comfotable just by being there. You immediatly stood up to leave, but your body wouldn't move another inch. You could tell, judging by her face and uniform she knew at least something about the soldiers.

Quickly galncing at her name stiched on the uniform, you asked "Mrs. Carter, I do not mean to be indelicate, but do you know anything about them?" Your eyes were filling with hope and your heart was beating so fast you could swear both of them could hear it.

"I am sorry my dear, but I am not allow to talk to you about it, you should go tend to the wounded now" She sounded very harsh, but you didn't think much of it, most of your interactions outside of the medic ward ended that way

"yes, of course. Goodbye mrs. Carter, mr. Captain" so you nodded and started heading your way, trying to keep the tears from falling

---

"Her brother is in it Peggy, she's just worried" Steve said as he watched you go wiping your tears "Bucky is on the list as well, isn't he?" turning to Peggy, he had pain, anger, sadness and confusion all mixed up on his eyes, hoping the woman had answers to any of his doubts.

"Unfortunately, I do not know much, but I know who might" She motioned for him to get up as she walked towards the commander's tent

---

The enfermary was awfully quiet, there were not many soldiers for you to help. Most of the injured you tended to had been either estabilized and sent home, or were good enough to get up in a day or two. The few that were still there at the moment were, much like you, waiting for a miracle. No other missions were conducted ever since the disaster that took Y/B/N, so you had little to do there, especially at night. All you could do was look over at those who were sleeping or usually too high on medications to make any sound.

You sat on the edge of a french sargent's bed, changing the blood soaked bandages he had on where his right leg sould be, when you heard footsteps coming closer to you. It was definetly Megan, she would usually come in the middle of the night to check on you, she even transferred with you to Italy because she worried about you not getting any rest, Megan was like the mom you once had.

"Hey Megan, go back to bed, everything's fine", you said, not taking your eyes away from the wounds,

Probably woken up by his screams, those pillows were the worst to muffle the sounds of pain.

"Y/N..." you recognize the soothing voice, still concentrated in your actions you responded.

"I was not expecting to find you coming in mr. Captain, did the british lady already break that heart?" You said in a playful tone.

"Steve, please" He chuckled at your comment, but said nothing else, waiting for you to finish what you were doing.

"Give me a second, I am almost done" He took a seat on the bed opposite to the one you were. Gently covering the wound and closing the bandage, you looked to the sargent with a warm smile "C'est fini". You got to the sink and washed your hands before walking over to Steve, you noticed he was wearing gear, which could only mean one thing, really.

"So, what are you about to do?" you askes while drying your hands on your apron, shaking your head in disbelief. You knew exactly what Steve was up to, you just didn't know how.

"I'm saving them... Peggy has called in a favour and I will be dropped off close enough to their camp"

"You can't be serious, all by yourself? "That plan was nonsense, you both knew it, but you also knew there was barely any other option.

"I don't think I have much of a choice, there might be as much as 400 lives there, and no one else is willing to sacrifice" He was firm with his words, no one was changing his mind at this point. You never thought someone would be crazy or brave enough to do something like that.

"Well in that case...I should to give you something" you pulled your skirt up to take the knife strapped on your leg, but the poor lighting in the room made the captain feel extremely uncomfortable, not understanding what you were doing. "Relax" you chuckled as his cheeks got visibly red, then placing the weapon on both of your hands and offering it out

"Take this, my brother gave it to me for good luck" He was impressed by the bone carved handle and was hesitant to even touch it

"Please" you insisted "I will be right here for you to give it back once you're done, I know it will help you bring them back, it's not a gun, but it is still pretty pointy" you raised your eyebrows, practically waving it at him

Steve took a deep breath "Alright, I'll take it" he walked towards you "for good luck!" You couldn't help but smile at the man you wished to see again very soon. You gave him a peck on the cheek

"Now go, miss Carter is probably going to be jealous of you spending so much time with another girl" You saw his face almost catch fire at the sound of your words. "Good luck Steve, you better come back in one piece and with that knife on your hand"

You smiled as he walked out of the tent, looking back at you for a quick salute, making you laugh a little before going back to checking vitals as your mind drifted to memories.

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goalhofer · 4 years

Conversation

2020 NHL Draft Results

1st overall, New York Rangers: Alex Lafreniere, Rimouski Oceanic (Saint-Eustache, Quebec)

2nd overall, Los Angeles: Quinton Byfield, Sudbury Wolves (Newmarket, Ontario)

3rd overall, Ottawa: Tim Stützle, Adler Mannheim (Viersen, Germany)

4th overall, Detroit: Lukas Raymond, Frölunda H.C. (Göteborg, Sweden)

5th overall, Ottawa: Jake Sanderson, USNTDP (Whitefish, Montana)

6th overall, Anaheim: Jamie Drysdale, Erie Otters (Toronto, Ontario)

7th overall, New Jersey: Alexander Holtz, Djugårdens I.F. Ishockeyförening (Stockholm, Sweden)

8th overall, Buffalo: Jack Quinn, Ottawa 67's (Cobden, Ontario)

9th overall, Minnesota: Marco Rossi, Ottawa 67's (Zurich, Switzerland)

10th overall, Winnipeg: Cole Perfetti, Saginaw Spirit (Whitby, Ontario)

11th overall, Nashville: Yaroslav Askarov, K.K. S.K.A.-Neva (Omsk, Russia)

12th overall, Florida: Anton Lundell, H.I.F.K. (Espoo, Finland)

13th overall, Carolina: Seth Jarvis, Portland Winterhawks (Winnipeg, Manitoba)

14th overall, Edmonton: Dylan Holloway, University Of Wisconsin Badgers (Cochrane, Alberta)

15th overall, Toronto: Rodion Amirov, K.K. Salavat Yulaev (Salavat, Russia)

16th overall, Montreal: Kaiden Guhle, Prince Albert Raiders (Sherwood Park, Alberta)

17th overall, Chicago: Lukas Reichel, Eisbären Berlin (Nürnberg, Germany)

18th overall, New Jersey: Dawson Mercer, Chicoutimi Sagueneens (Bay Roberts, Newfoundland)

19th overall, New York Rangers: Braden Schneider, Brandon Wheat Kings (Prince Albert, Saskatchewan)

20th overall, New Jersey: Shakir Mukhamadullin, K.K. Salavat Yulaev (Ufa, Russia)

21st overall, Columbus: Yegor Chinakhov, K.K. Avangard (Omsk, Russia)

22nd overall, Washington: Hendrix Lapierre, Chicoutimi Sagueneens (Gatineau, Quebec)

23rd overall, Philadelphia: Tyson Foerster, Barrie Colts (Alliston, Ontario)

24th overall, Calgary: Connor Zary, Kamloops Blazers (Saskatoon, Saskatchewan)

25th overall, Colorado: Justin Barron, Halifax Mooseheads (Halifax, Nova Scotia)

26th overall, St. Louis: Jake Neighbours, Edmonton Oil Kings (Airdrie, Alberta)

27th overall, Anaheim: Jacob Perreault, Sarnia Sting (Montreal, Quebec)

28th overall, Ottawa: Ridly Greig, Brandon Wheat Kings (Lethbridge, Alberta)

29th overall, Vegas: Brendan Brisson, Chicago Steel (Manhattan Beach, California)

30th overall, Dallas: Mavrick Bourque, Shawinigan Cataractes (Plessisville, Quebec)

31st overall, San Jose: Ozzy Weisblatt, Prince Albert Raiders (Calgary, Alberta)

32nd overall, Detroit: William Wallinder, Modo Hockey J20 (Sollefteå, Sweden)

33rd overall, Ottawa: Roby Järventie, K.O.O.V.E.E. (Tampere, Finland)

34th overall, Buffalo: John-Jason Peterka, Eishockeylub Red Bull München (Munich, Germany)

35th overall, Los Angeles: Helge Grans, Malmö Rödhökar (Ljungby, Sweden)

36th overall, Anaheim: Sam Colangelo, Chicago Steel (Stoneham, Massachusetts)

37th overall, Minnesota: Marat Khusnutdinov, K.K. S.K.A.-1946 St. Petersburg (Moscow, Russia)

38th overall, San Jose: Thomas Bordeleau, USNTDP (Montreal, Quebec)

39th overall, Minnesota: Ryan O'Rourke, Sault Ste. Marie Greyhounds (Pickering, Ontario)

40th overall, Winnipeg: Daniel Torgersson, Frölunda H.C. J20 (Hönö, Sweden)

41st overall, Carolina: Noel Gunler, Luleå Hockeyförening (Luleå, Sweden)

42nd overall, Nashville: Luke Evangelista, London Knights (Oakville, Ontario)

43rd overall, Florida: Emil Heineman, Leksands Idrottsförening (Leksand, Sweden)

44th overall, Ottawa: Tyler Kleven, USNTDP (Fargo, North Dakota)

45th overall, Los Angeles: Brock Faber, USNTDP (Maple Grove, Minnesota)

46th overall, Chicago: Drew Commesso, USNTDP (Needham, Massachusetts)

47th overall, Montreal: Luke Tuch, USNTDP (Baldwinsville, New York)

48th overall, Montreal: Jan Mysák, Hamilton Bulldogs (Litvínov, Czech Republic)

49th overall, Arizona: Forfeited

50th overall, Calgary: Yan Kuznetsov, University Of Connecticut Huskies (Murmansk, Russia)

51st overall, Detroit: Theodor Niederbach, Frölunda H.C. J20 (Bjästa, Sweden)

52nd overall, Pittsburgh: Joel Blomqvist, Oulun Kärpät U20 (Nykarlby, Finland)

53rd overall, Carolina: Vasily Ponomarev, Shawinigan Cataractes (Zelenograd, Russia)

54th overall, Philadelphia: Emil Andrae, HV71 J20 (Västervik, Sweden)

55th overall, Detroit: Cross Hanas, Portland Winterhawks (Highland Village, Texas)

56th overall, San Jose: Tristen Robins, Saskatoon Blades (Brandon, Manitoba)

57th overall, Tampa Bay: Jack Finley, Spokane Chiefs (Kelowna, British Columbia)

58th overall, Boston: Mason Lohrei, Green Bay Gamblers (Verona, Wisconsin)

59th overall, Toronto: Roni Hirvonen, Porin Ässät (Espoo, Finland)

60th overall, New York Rangers: Will Cuylle, Windsor Spitfires (Toronto, Ontario)

61st overall, Ottawa: Egor Sokolov, Cape Breton Eagles (Yekaterinburg, Russia)

62nd overall, Tampa Bay: Gage Goncalves, Everett Silvertips (Mission, British Columbia)

63rd overall, Detroit: Donovan Sebrango, Kitchener Rangers (Kitchener, Ontario)

64th overall, Toronto: Topi Niemela, Oulun Kärpät (Oulu, Finland)

65th overall, Minnesota: Daemon Hunt, Moose Jaw Warriors (Brandon, Manitoba)

66th overall, Los Angeles: Kasper Simontaival, Tappara (Tampere, Finland)

67th overall, Anaheim: Ian Moore, St. Mark's School Winged Lions (Concord, Massachusetts)

68th overall, Vegas: Lucas Cormier, Charlottetown Islanders (Ste.-Marie-De-Kent, New Brunswick)

69th overall, Carolina: Alexander Nikishin, K.K. Spartak Moscow (Oryol, Russia)

70th overall, Detroit: Eemil Viro, Turun Palloseura (Vantaa, Finland)

71st overall, Ottawa: Leevi Meriläinen, Oulun Kärpät U20 (Oulu, Finland)

72nd overall, Calgary: Jérémy Poirier, Saint John Sea Dogs (Salaberry-De-Valleyfield, Quebec)

73rd overall, Nashville: Luke Prokop, Calgary Hitmen (Edmonton, Alberta)

74th overall, Florida: Ty Smilanic, USNTDP (Elizabeth, Colorado)

75th overall, Colorado: Jean-Luc Foudy, Windsor Spitfires (Scarborough, Ontario)

76th overall, San Jose: Danil Gushchin, Niagara IceDogs (Yekaterinburg, Russia)

77th overall, Pittsburgh: Calle Klang, Kristianstads I.K. (Olofström, Sweden)

78th overall, Columbus: Samuel Kňažko, Turun Palloseura U20 (Trencin, Slovakia)

79th overall, Chicago: Landon Slaggert, USNTDP (Chicago, Illinois)

80th overall, Calgary: Jake Boltmann, Edina High School Hornets (Edina, Minnesota)

81st overall, Chicago: Wyatt Kaiser, Andover High School Huskies (Andover, Minnesota)

82nd overall, Vancouver: Joni Jurmo, J.Y.P. (Espoo, Finland)

83rd overall, Los Angeles: Alex Laferriere, Harvard University Crimson (Chatham, New Jersey)

84th overall, New Jersey: Nico Daws, Guelph Storm (Burlington, Ontario)

85th overall, Tampa Bay: Maxim Groshev, K.K. Neftekhimik Nizhnekamsk (Agryz, Russia)

86th overall, St. Louis: Dylan Peterson, Boston University Terriers (Ottawa, Ontario)

87th overall, Florida: Justin Sourdif, Vancouver Giants (Surrey, British Columbia)

88th overall, St. Louis: Leo Lööf, Färjestad Bollklubb Jr. (Karlstad, Sweden)

89th overall, Boston: Trevor Kuntar, Boston College Eagles (Williamsville, New York)

90th overall, New York Islanders: Alexander Ljungkrantz, Brynäs I.F. (Gävle, Sweden)

91st overall, Vegas: Jackson Hallum, St. Thomas Academy Cadets (Eagan, Minnesota)

92nd overall, New York Rangers: Oliver Tärnström, A.I.I. Jr. (Stockholm, Sweden)

93rd overall, Tampa Bay: Jack Thompson, Sudbury Wolves (Courtice, Ontario)

94th overall, Philadelphia: Zayde Wisdom, Kingston Frontenacs (Toronto, Ontario)

95th overall, Florida: Mike Benning, Sherwood Park Crusaders (St. Albert, Alberta)

96th overall, Calgary: Daniil Chechelev, Russkie Vityazi Chekhov (Khabarovsk, Russia)

97th overall, Detroit: Sam Strange, Sioux Falls Stampede (Eau Claire, Wisconsin)

98th overall, San Jose: Brandon Coe, North Bay Battalion (Toronto, Ontario)

99th overall, New Jersey: Jaromir Pytlik, Sault Ste. Marie Greyhounds (Dacice, Czech Republic)

100th overall, Edmonton: Carter Savoie, University Of Denver Pioneers (St. Albert, Alberta)

101st overall, Nashville: Adam Wilsby, Skellefteå A.I.K. (Stockholm, Sweden)

102nd overall, Montreal: Jack Smith, Sioux Falls Stampede (St. Cloud, Minnesota)

103rd overall, New York Rangers: Dylan Garand, Kamloops Blazers (Victoria, British Columbia)

104th overall, Anaheim: Thimo Nickl, Rögle Bollklubb J20 (Klagenfurt, Austria)

105th overall, Florida: Zach Uens, Merrimack College Warriors (Belleville, Ontario)

106th overall, Toronto: Artur Akhtiamov, Irbis Kazan (Kazan, Russia)

107th overall, Detroit: Jan Bednár, Acadie-Bathurst Titan (Karlovy Vary, Czech Republic)

108th overall, Pittsburgh: Lukáš Švejkovský, Medicine Hat Tigers (Point Roberts, Washington)

109th overall, Montreal: Blake Biondi, Hermantown High School Hawks (Hermantown, Minnesota)

110th overall, Chicago: Michael Krutil, H.K. Sparta Praha Jr. (Prague, Czech Republic)

111th overall, Arizona: Mitch Miller, Tri-City Storm (Sylvania, Ohio)

112th overall, Los Angeles: Juho Markkanen, Imatran Ketterä (Laapeenranta, Finland)

113th overall, Vancouver: Jackson Kunz, Green Bay Gamblers (Grand Forks, North Dakota)

114th overall, Columbus: Mikael Pyyhtiä, Turun Pallo U20 (Turku, Finland)

115th overall, Carolina: Zion Nybeck, HV71 J20 (Alvesta, Sweden)

116th overall, Tampa Bay: Eamon Powell, Boston College Eagles (Marcellus, New York)

117th overall, Washington: Bogdan Trineev, M.K.K. Dynamo Moscow (Voronezh, Russia)

118th overall, Colorado: Colby Ambrosio, Boston College Eagles (Welland, Ontario)

119th overall, St. Louis: Tanner Dickinson, Sault Ste. Marie Greyhounds (Perrysburg, Ohio)

120th overall, New Jersey: Ethan Edwards, Sioux City Musketeers (Grand Prairie, Alberta)

121st overall, New York Islanders: Alex Jefferies, The Frederick Gunn School (Lunenburg, Massachusetts)

122nd overall, Toronto: William Villeneuve, Saint John Sea Dogs (Sherbrooke, Quebec)

123rd overall, Dallas: Antonio Stranges, London Knights (Plymouth, Michigan)

124th overall, Montreal: Sean Farrell, Harvard University Crimson (Hopkinton, Massachusetts)

125th overall, Vegas: Jesper Vikman, Allmänna Idrottsklubben J20 (Stockholm, Sweden)

126th overall, Edmonton: Ty Tullio, Oshawa Generals (Lakeshore, Ontario)

127th overall, New York Rangers: Evan Vierling, Barrie Colts (Aurora, Ontario)

128th overall, Los Angeles: Martin Chromiak, Kingston Frontenacs (Ilava, Slovakia)

129th overall, Anaheim: Artyom Galimov, K.K. Ak Bars (Samara, Russia)

130th overall, New Jersey: Artyom Shlain, University Of Connecticut Huskies (Moscow, Russia)

131st overall, Buffalo: Matteo Costantini, Penticton Vees (St. Catherines, Ontario)

132nd overall, Detroit: Alex Cotton, Lethbridge Hurricanes (Langley, British Columbia)

133rd overall, Winnipeg: Anton Johannesson, HV71 J20 (Gnosjö, Sweden)

134th overall, New York Rangers: Brett Berard, Providence College Friars (East Greenwich, Rhode Island)

135th overall, Philadelphia: Elliot Desnoyers, Halifax Mooseheads (St-Hyacinthe, Quebec)

136th overall, Montreal: Jakub Dobeš, Omaha Lancers (Havirov, Czech Republic)

137th overall, Toronto: Dmitri Ovchinnikov, K.K. Sibersky Snaypery (Chita, Russia)

138th overall, Edmonton: Maxim Beryozkin, K.K. Lokomotiv 2 (Chita, Russia)

139th overall, Colorado: Ryder Rolston, University Of Notre Dame Fighting Irish (Birmingham, Michigan)

140th overall, Los Angeles: Ben Meehan, University Of Massachusetts, Lowell River Hawks (Walpole, Massachusetts)

141st overall, Chicago: Isaac Phillips, Sudbury Wolves (Barrie, Ontario)

142nd overall, Arizona: Carson Bantle, Michigan Technological University Huskies (Onalaska, Wisconsin)

143rd overall, Calgary: Ryan Francis, Cape Breton Eagles (Beaver Bank, Nova Scotia)

144th overall, Vancouver: Jacob Truscott, USNTDP (Ft. Gratiot, Michigan)

145th overall, Columbus: Ole Bjørgvik-Holm, Manglerud Stjerne Ishockey (Oslo, Norway)

146th overall, Minnesota: Pavel Novák; Jr., H.K. Stadion Litomerice (Tabor, Czech Republic)

147th overall, Tampa Bay: Jaydon Dureau, Portland Winterhawks (White City, Saskatchewan)

148th overall, Washington: Cassius Hughes, Spokane Chiefs (Post Falls, Idaho)

149th overall, Pittsburgh: Raivis Ansons, Baie-Comeau Drakkar (Riga, Latvia)

150th overall, St. Louis: Matt Kessel, University Of Massachusetts, Amherst Minutemen (Bloomfield Hills, Michigan)

151st overall, Boston: Mason Langenbrunner, Eden Prairie High School Eagles (Eden Prairie, Minnesota)

152nd overall, New York Islanders: William Dufour, Drummondville Voltigeurs (Quebec City, Quebec)

153rd overall, Florida: Kasper Puutio, Oulun Kärpät (Vaasa, Finland)

154th overall, Dallas: Daniel Pettersson-Ljungman, Linköping Hockeyklubb J20 (Uppsala, Sweden)

155th overall, Ottawa: Eric Engstrand, Malmö Rödhökar (Varberg, Sweden)

156th overall, Detroit: Kyle Aucoin, Tri-City Storm (Gloucester, Ontario)

157th overall, Tampa Bay: Nick Capone, University Of Connecticut Huskies (East Haven, Connecticut)

158th overall, Ottawa: Philippe Daoust, Moncton Wildcats (Barrie, Ontario)

159th overall, Carolina: Lucas Mercuri, Des Moines Buccaneers (LaSalle, Quebec)

160th overall, Anaheim: Albin Sundsvik, Skellefteå A.I.K. (Stockholm, Sweden)

161st overall, New Jersey: Benjamin Baumgartner, H.C. Davos (Zell Am See, Austria)

162nd overall, Dallas: Evgeni Oxentyuk, C.K. Yunost-Minsk (Brest, Belarus)

163rd overall, St. Louis: Will Cranley, Ottawa 67's (Peterborough, Ontario)

164th overall, Winnipeg: Tyrel Bauer, Seattle Thunderbirds (Cochrane, Alberta)

165th overall, New York Rangers: Matt Rempe, Seattle Thunderbirds (Calgary, Alberta)

166th overall, Nashville: Luke Reid, University Of New Hampshire Wildcats (Saskatoon, Saskatchewan)

167th overall, Colorado: Nils Åman, Leksands Idrottsförening (Avesta, Sweden)

168th overall, Toronto: Veeti Mietinen, St. Cloud State University Huskies (Espoo, Finland)

169th overall, Edmonton: Filip Engarås, University Of New Hampshire Wildcats (Stockholm, Sweden)

170th overall, Pittsburgh: Chase Yoder, Providence College Friars (Fairview, Texas)

171st overall, Montreal: Alexander Gordin, S.K.A.-1946 St. Petersburg (St. Petersburg, Russia)

172nd overall, Chicago: Chad Yetman, Erie Otters (Whitby, Ontario)

173rd overall, Arizona: Filip Barklund, Örebro H.K. Jr. (Stockholm, Sweden)

174th overall, Calgary: Rory Kerihs, Sault Ste. Marie Greyhounds (Bolton, Ontario)

175th overall, Vancouver: Dmitri Zlodeyev, M.H.K. Dynamo Moscow (Voronezh, Russia)

176th overall, Columbus: Samuel Johannesson, Rögle Bandyklubb (Halmstad, Sweden)

177th overall, Toronto: Axel Rindell, Mikkelin Jukurit (Espoo, Finland)

178th overall, Philadelphia: Connor McClennon, Winnipeg Ice (Wainwright, Alberta)

179th overall, Washington: Garin Bjorklund, Medicine Hat Tigers (Grand Prairie, Alberta)

180th overall, Toronto: Joe Miller, Chicago Steel (Minneapolis, Minnesota)

181st overall, Ottawa: Cole Reinhardt, Brandon Wheat Kings (Irracana, Alberta)

182nd overall, Boston: Riley Duran, Youngstown Phantoms (Woburn, Massachusetts)

183rd overall, New York Islanders: Matias Rajaniemi, Lahti Pelikaanis (Lahti, Finland)

184th overall, Vegas: Noah Ellis, Des Moines Buccaneers (Urbandale, Iowa)

185th overall, Dallas: Rémi Poirier, Gatineau Olympiques (Farnham, Quebec)

186th overall, Tampa Bay: Amir Miftakhov, K.K. Ak Bars (Kazan, Russia)

187th overall, Detroit: Kienan Draper, Chilliwack Chiefs (Detroit, Michigan)

188th overall, Chicago: Louis Crevier, Chicoutimi Sagueneens (Quebec City, Quebec)

189th overall, Toronto: John Fusco, Harvard University Crimson (Westwood, Massachusetts)

190th overall, Los Angeles: Aatu Jämsen, Lahti Pelikaanis U20 (Lahti, Finland)

191st overall, Vancouver: Viktor Persson, Brynäs I.F. J20 (Valbo, Sweden)

192nd overall, Arizona: Elliot Ekefjärd, Malmå Rödhökar (Waxholm, Sweden)

193rd overall, Buffalo: Albert Lyckåsen, Hockeyklubb Vita Hästen (Bålsta, Sweden)

194th overall, St. Louis: Noah Beck, Clarkson University Golden Knights (Richmond Hill, Ontario)

195th overall, Toronto: Wyatt Schingoethe, Waterloo Black Hawks (Algonquin, Illinois)

196th overall, San Jose: Alex Young, Colgate University Raiders (Calgary, Alberta)

197th overall, New York Rangers: Hugo Ollas, Linköping Hockeyklubb J20 (Linköping, Sweden)

198th overall, Florida: Elliot Ekmark, Linköping Hockeyklubb J20 (Linköping, Sweden)

199th overall, Carolina: Alexander Pashin, M.K.K. Tolpar Ufa (Pryutovo, Russia)

200th overall, Edmonton: Jeremias Lindewall, Modo Hockey J20 (Sollefteå, Sweden)

201st overall, San Jose: Adam Raška, C.K. Ocelari Trinec (Koprivnice, Czech Republic)

202nd overall, Nashville: Gunnarwolfe Fontaine, Northeastern University Huskies (East Greenwich, Rhode Island)

203rd overall, Detroit: Chase Bradley, Sioux City Musketeers (St. Louis, Missouri)

204th overall, Arizona: Ben McCartney, Brandon Wheat Kings (Macdonald, Manitoba)

205th overall, Calgary: Ilya Sokolyov, C.K. Dynamo Minsk (Minsk, Belarus)

206th overall, San Jose: Linus Öberg, Örebro H.K. (Vänersborg, Sweden)

207th overall, Anaheim: Ethan Bowen, Chilliwack Chiefs (Chilliwack, British Columbia)

208th overall, Carolina: Ronan Seeley, Everett Silvertips (Olds, Alberta)

209th overall, Nashville: Chase McLane, Pennsylvania State University Nittany Lions (Trenton, Michigan)

210th overall, San Jose: Timofey Spitserov, Culver Military Academy Eagles (St. Petersburg, Russia)

211th overall, Washington: Oskar Magnusson, Malmö Rödhöks (Trelleborg, Sweden)

212th overall, Florida: Devon Levi, Northeastern University Huskies (Dollard-Des-Ormeaux, Quebec)

213th overall, Toronto: Ryan Tverberg, Toronto Jr. Canadiens (Richmond Hill, Ontario)

214th overall, New York Islanders: Henrik Tikkanen, I.P.K. (Lohja, Finland)

215th overall, Vegas: Maxim Marushev, Bars Kazan (Saratov, Russia)

216th overall, Buffalo: Jakub Konečný, C.K. Sparta Praha U20 (Brno, Czech Republic)

217th overall, Tampa Bay: Declan McDonnell, Kitchener Rangers (Lake View, New York)

8 notes · View notes