#by tllgrrl aka Nefertiri Jones

[tllgrrl]

Grimes 68 by @tllgrrl aka nefertiri jones

Summary: After almost 8 years apart, Michonne finds Rick Grimes, the love of her life and father of their children, and he brings her into the Civic Republic Military. For the time being: 1) She has to pretend to be someone else to avoid being seen as a threat; 2) He has to figure out a plan for the two of them to get out; and 3) They have to try and act like they’re strangers to each other instead of reunited lovers.

(The key word is “try”.)

* * * * *

*CLANK…CLANK…CLANK…*

The steel kill sticks striking against the brick wall rang in the parking lot of what was left of a post office.

A former postal service semi that now had protective grills over the windows led the next herd of the dead, or what the CRM called “deltas”— “delts” for short—into the large space on the one side of the harvest wall.

The shuffling hoard was drawn by the noise and flashing lights mounted on the truck.

*CLANK…CLANK…CLANK…CLANK…*

The consignees readied themselves on the other side, and as the delts shambled to open spaces in the wall, each one was met with a blow that drove a sharp, prong-ended spear (“kill stick”) into its skull, followed by a twist of the wrist that destroyed its brain, effectively and finally killing it.

It was a repetitive, bloody, mind-numbing grind, and some said that it was brutal for the workers because it wasn’t easy to completely forget that the delts were once living human beings too.

Grimes had done his time at The Wall. He’d even become a legend with the number of kills he could rack up in a shift.

It was painted in big letters on the side of a nearby building, for all to see:

GRIMES 68.

He was also well-known for the number of attempts he’d made to do something no one else in the City wanted to do: Escape. Wanting to leave the safety and security of the CR so badly that he actually cut off his own shackled hand at the wrist, only to fail again and be brought back to the Wall.

Time and time again an officer in the Civic Republic Military gave him a chance to join up, and he refused each offer, preferring to be at the culling facility, killing the dead and planning his next escape attempt.

Then one day, he accepted the offer. He traded his Consignee jacket for a CRM uniform. Instead of using a kill stick, he got a fancy, deadly prosthetic hand with a retractable blade. He got all kinds of specialized training, all the perks as he rose through the ranks, and he never had to cull delts again.

But now, after having been gone for years, there he was. Back at the Wall. Watching.

Watching her.

The new consignee.

The dark-skinned Black woman with her hair cut short on one side of her head, exposing a beautiful profile; and locs cascading down just past her shoulder in the back and on the other side of her face .

The woman who, after her on-boarding interview, was designated a Type “B”, seeking safety, willing to work, and keeping to herself, but had the carriage and demeanour of an “A” who was always observing, was more than capable of defending herself, and being a provider of safety. A leader.

Word soon got around among the Consignees that the ex-consignee/now military officer known as “the famous Rick Grimes” had not only survived a chopper crash, but he’d started showing up at the harvest wall. Coming back to a place he’d gotten away from years earlier, only to return when a mysterious new consignee was brought into the CRM.

*CLANK…CLANK…CLANK…*

“Hey. Look who just pulled up,” said a consignee who had her red hair tied back with, of all things, a bright pink ribbon that was tied in a bow.

“Holy shit! ‘zat Grimes?” another consignee added, tying a bandana on his head, cholo style, then slipping on his face shield. “He doesn’t have to be here any more. What’s up with that?”

“Bethune’s not-so-secret admirer,” snickered the worker to pink bow’s left, stabbing his kill stick into a delt that sagged and dropped. “She doesn’t see him yet. But she knows he’s there. Watch. In 3..2..1.”

Michonne—known to the other consignees as “Dana Bethune” —stationed at the far end of the wall, continued to methodically dispatch delts.

Then she stopped, looked over her shoulder, found the tall, CRM officer. Standing there, at ease, even with his helmet and face guard on, she knew he was watching her.

It seemed like they stood there like that. The only people at the wall. 5…10…15 minutes. Watching each other. Breathing the same air. At last…

3 seconds later, she turned her head back to the oncoming delts, and went back to work.

Behind her mask, the other consignees couldn’t see the small smile that graced her lips, or hear her whisper “I found you.”

Behind his mask, no one could see the CRM officer smile as he whispered “You found me.”

*CLANK…CLANK…CLANK…*

“You see that?” drawled the consignee to pink bow’s right, continuing to spear oncoming delts. “Somethin’s up with those two.”

“I know, right? For the past two weeks, he’s here. Same time every day she’s on shift, just before third break. Look at him lookin’. Even wearin’ the consignee jacket, the mask, an’ her hair all tucked in, it only takes him a second to find her. And a second for her to know he’s here. Like they’re—”

“Might could be that ass is imprinted on his brain!” laughed a big man nearby with a bushy black beard.

“Maybe it’s because she saved his life out there.”

“Peterson said somethin’ about that. It’s true?”

“‘parently so. His chopper went down. Got blown right outta the sky and crashed.”

“You serious?!”

“Word is it was a scrub with some kinda RPG an’ shit,” a consignee added to the story while wiping a splatter of brains and blood off of his face guard.

“Stop lyin’! How’d they even get that? After the Fall, CRM took over most of the bases out there with a quickness.”

“There was military stuff out in the wild even before everything went to shit. All kinds o’ stuff is still out there,” bushy beard opined. “Shouldn’t be a surprise all these years later somebody has a bazooka or some ordinance hidden away. There’s jeeps, even tanks here and there. I lived in one for a couple o’ months before I got found and brought here. CRM scoops ‘em up quick as they can, but—”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. So anyway, the scuttlebut is that Sargent Major Loverboy there, an’ the other troopers jumped out of the wrecked chopper an’ the scrub starts firein’ on ‘em. The ones he could catch, he slit their throats…with a sword.”

“A what?” bandana scoffed, stabbing into what was left of the next delt’s face. “Get outta here with that BS, man!”

“I’m just tellin’ you what I heard! Grimes was about ta get got, when Bethune comes runnin’ outta the woods, grabs one of the dead trooper’s weapons and shoots the scrub!”

“Wow. Maybe that’s why he’s here all the time,” pink bow chuckled. “Hell, I’d be in love with her too.”

“Get in line,” beard snarked. “You really think those two know each other?”

“Know each other?” the woman laughed, stabbed a delt and shook its eyeball off of her kill stick. “I think they’re fuckin’.”

“No way!” bandana exclaimed. “She just got here!”

<<<Good work, Section 5 and 6 Consignees. Bethune and Clifton, please report to post-shift health check before boarding transport.>>>

“Think about it,” pink bow explained. “Grimes is an officer on the inside now and doesn’t need to be at the Harvest Wall any more. Who’d come back to this shit after their 6 years of consignment is up? Now, all of a sudden, he’s back. Out here almost every day. Why?”

She tipped her head toward the driveway and they watched Grimes remove his helmet and turn completely around to watch “why” aka “Dana Bethune” walk past, avoiding his eyes.

*CLANK…CLANK…CLANK…*

“Oh, yeah…” pink bow grinned. “They’re fuckin’.”

* * * * *

This bit of nonsense was inspired by The Walking Dead spin-off, The Ones Who Live - Episode 3: “Bye”.

Click HERE for the AO3 version.

Thank you for reading!

[tllgrrl]

I wasn’t able to put something together for Valentine’s Day 💝

Instead, this happened…

#Fleur de Louve (Post) Valentine 🦾💝⛴

Does anyone plan to do a Fleur de Louve Valentine's special? 💝

Or, does anyone already have any creations they want to share?

[tllgrrl]

Essential Skills in a Post-Apocalypse World by @tllgrrl aka Nefertiri Jones

Summary: A new CRM uniform would be waiting for Rick at the first refueling jump point on the way back to Cascadia Base, but before driving out to the chopper…

* * *

Rick went back to the 3 Pines Cabin to gather anything left behind when they hastily dressed and lit out after being ambushed in bed that morning.

Michonne returned to the Gift Shop, found the stockroom and snagged the remaining Yellowstone souvenir buckskin bags containing sewing kits, because one of the skills needed for a post-apocalypse world was the ability to mend and alter clothing.

Having two active, growing kids meant re-attaching buttons, hemming, and repairing seams, as needed.

She tucked the kits into her backpack, between the kids’ presents she and Rick picked when they arrived at the Park, and Jadis’ CRM uniform.

[tllgrrl]

7th Inning Stretch by @tllgrrl aka Nefertiri Jones

Sarah Wilson/James “Bucky” Barnes | 5K Words | Ch 1: SFW Fade to Black. Ch 2: NSFW Spicy.

Summary: Sarah and Bucky enjoy their day off, beating the heat at home on the sofa, watching the ballgame.

Summer + Baseball + Waltzing + Ice(?) = Shenanigans!

* * * * * * * * *

Chapter 1 - Take Me Out

Where: Southern Louisiana.

When: Summertime. Baseball Season.

Late afternoon at the Wilson-Barnes home. It’s not just hot and humid. It’s steamy, and rain is in the forecast. It hasn’t started yet, but it’s on its way.

Sam’s visiting for a few days, and to keep two bored tween boys from going stir crazy he offered to take his nephews to the movies, pizza, and then for a mini-shopping spree at Crescent City Comics in NOLA, so Sarah and Bucky, both in lightweight cotton shorts and tank tops, are lazing on the sofa, enjoying a quiet day off…and air conditioning.

Like in many older buildings and houses in Southern Louisiana, opening windows and/or doors and letting the air flow through was “air conditioning” in the generations-old Wilson house.

To make it more effective, some window units were installed in the living room and the bedrooms, including Bucky’s bedroom/office in the attic.

Having Stark Industries and WakandaTech available did have its perks. Low profile, high-efficiency and environmentally friendly A/C was one of them.

But sometimes, open windows and good screens were fine. Especially after sundown.

Bucky got the small ice chest out of the garage, filled it with ice, a couple of bottles of beer and 2 bottles of water. Sarah laid out some snacks, including a few of Bucky’s favorite granola bars, on the coffee table.

He’s watching the L.A. Dodgers (the “Brooklyn” Dodgers, as he sometimes calls them) play the New York Mets while he rubs her feet with his warm right hand.

She’s enjoying the hell out of the pampering, while reading the novelization of the Bridgerton spinoff, Queen Charlotte.

He knows about the popular TV series and enjoys the way she tries to keep a cool demeanor at what she and her friends call “the juicy parts” of the book.

He can hear her when she says under her breath, “Well, alright now…” or “Mmm-hmm…”

And he took particular note when she covered her mouth, whispered “Giiiiirl?! Yesss…” and her toes curled in his hand.

He planned to try and get her to read whatever that part was aloud to him later.

“It’s almost time,” he informs her, releasing her foot and rubbing his left hand, still cool from holding a cold beer, on her legs.

“Mmmm…that’s nice.” she sighs as she lightly kneads his thigh with her heels. “Time for what?”

“7th Inning Stretch…”

“…You know the song, right? Take me me out—“

“To the ball game? Everybody knows that song.”

“Yeah, the chorus part of it. Did you know there are verses?”

She laid the book down on the coffee table next to the bowl of roasted peanuts, snagged a little cube of ice and rubbed it on her wrists, her neck and her collarbone.

His eyes caught a drop of water from the ice making its way from the hollow at the base of her throat, down her chest, rolling into her cleavage.

For a second he considered going in after it. With his mouth and tongue. Instead, he gave her another piece of ice and popped one into his own mouth, crunched it, then taking her hand slowly kissed up her arm, from the pulse point of her wrist, watching her eyes slightly widen as she grins.

"Is that right..." she murmured, getting a little lost because it felt like every time his cold mouth landed on her warm skin, all of her attention, her focus, was drawn to that spot on her body.

And he saw her thighs press together just a little when he reached the inside of her elbow, kissed it and then rubbed his bearded cheek on it, making her hiss and pull away but just a little because the cold followed by the warmth made her want more.

“Verses? That song has verses? Lay it on me, Sinatra.”

“Okay, it goes something like,

Katie Casey was baseball mad,

had the fever and had it bad.

Just to root for the hometown crew,

Every sou—that’s a penny—Katie blew…”

“Really! That’s how it starts?”

“Yeah. Learned it from my Pa. There was another version later about a girl named Nellie Kelly.”

“Anyway," she ruffled his hair, and lightly raking her nails on his scalp, she watched his eyelids start to flutter. "I’ve never heard the intro before. My baseball knowledge isn’t very deep. Daddy’d sometimes watch depending on who was playing, and you know about Sam and his football. I’m into whatever the boys are into, but I don’t know a lot about baseball.”

“My Ma loved baseball. Prob’ly more’n Pa. She’d listen to games on the radio doin' housework, or makin’ dinner, and during the 7th Inning Stretch she’d grab me and Becca, turn the radio up, and we’d all three of us dance around in the living room. God, in the summertime it’d be so hot, but we didn’t care.

Sometimes if I had a little bit o’ money left from a job, when the ice wagon came around I’d run downstairs and get us snow cones.

Man, when that ice hit your mouth…it was like heaven. I’ll never forget…”

Sarah saw that soft smile and look of almost wonderment he sometimes gets when an old formerly-lost memory resurfaces.

‘Well, anyway,” he offered, rising from the couch, taking her hand and leading her to the middle of the room, “I’ll be more than happy to be your private baseball tutor.”

“Private tutor, huh?”

“Mmm-hmmm. May I?”

She nodded, he placed her right hand on his shoulder, took her left hand, and pulled her nearer.

“When you’re watching the boys’ team play, you want to be the parent who knows exactly what they’re yelling at the ump for.”

“Well, I thank you in advance, Professor Barnes.

So when do my lessons start?”

“Now. Do you waltz?”

“Waltz? A little. Not much occasion to, but I can waltz with a good partner.”

“You’re in good hands. Trust me. Okay…”

He raised the volume on the TV, tossed the remote onto the couch, and they began to dance as the announcer sings:

🎶Take me out to the ballgame,

Take me out to the crowd…🎶

“Say! Not bad, young whippersnapper!”

“Thank you!”

🎶Buy me some peanuts and Cracker Jack…🎶

“Who taught you?”

“Daddy. And mama taught Sam.”

“Sam? Your brother Sam? Sam Wilson can waltz?”

🎶Root, root, root for the home team,

If they don’t win it’s a shame…🎶

“Oh, yeah! Social Dancing was definitely part of our Home Training. But not Soul Train dancing. You learned popular dances from friends, and from the TV.

I mean Fox Trot, Swing, and Waltz. Like your Mama taught you, our Mama and Daddy taught us…just like you’re gonna teach Cass and AJ.”

“You want me to teach them.“

“Mmm-hmm. They're already learning baseball fundamentals from you. You can show them basic partner dancing steps, and they can practice leading with me.”

“I thought you wanted them to like me!”

“It’ll be fun! I promise.”

“Mind if I hold you to that?”

The song continues and the crowd on the TV sang as Sarah and Bucky find themselves slow dancing.

Whenever they dance past the AC unit, they linger, feeling the cool air as it hits the light veil of sweat that has settled on their skin.

It’s Southern Louisiana. In the Summer, it’s always there.

She grew up with it.

He’s gotten used to it and actually loves it because he’d had enough freezing in his life to never want to be cold again unless necessary.

She places her hand on the back of his neck and feels him inhale, rub his cheek on her temple, then he lightly kisses her there.

The back of his left hand slides down her shoulder, then his fingers slowly run from just behind her ear, down the side of her throat.

The sensors in that hand know her skin intimately now.

He remembers the first time she took his hand, the first time he touched her arm, her cheek, her bottom lip. Her...

He lightly kisses the side of her neck, her ear, while softly humming the song, pulling giggles from her.

Her hands roam up and down his back, gently kneading the muscles there, pulling another deep inhale and sigh from him.

🎶Buy me some peanuts and Cracker Jack…🎶

His mouth travels to her cheek, then to her mouth.

🎶I don’t care if I ever come back.🎶

They get lost in the kiss, and when they finally do come back…

“Well, now. Tell me, Professor Barnes, do they still call a kiss like that getting to First Base?”

“I believe they do, Ms. Wilson.”

“I wonder if you can make it to Home Plate.”

“Not if I can, sweetness, but how many times.”

“Oh, really now,” she huffs, pulling away before he can go in for another scorching kiss, and heading toward the stairs.

He watches her ascend and when she looks back at him over her shoulder, she sees that “got an idea” look he gets when he gets the kind of “ideas” that get her pulled into a hideaway someplace at least semi-private for some good old-fashioned grownup shenanigans.

“The truck windows are still down,” he grins. “I’ll be right up.“

As if on cue, the wind kicks up a bit, and then there’s the sound of rain beginning to fall.

{*ping*}

They both glance over at his phone on the end table, then at each other, and she starts to prepare herself for the words that’ll mean he has to get dressed, grab that ever-ready Backpack and board a QuinJet that’s miraculously showed up in the front yard.

(Dammit. Here it comes: “HQ called—blah blah blah. The boys and I are headed back home. Wheels up in 2 hours—blah blah blah. Sorry Buck.”)

Bucky picks the phone up, reads the message, and breathes a sigh of relief.

“It’s from Sam. He says, raining cats and dogs up here...storm’s headed your way...boys are knocked out and so am I...crashing at safe house...see you guys in the morning. Don’t get distracted and forget to roll up windows on that old truck, White Panther? Distracted?!” Bucky says to his phone. “I don’t get distracted, Samuel!”

For a few seconds, Sarah watches with amusement as he fusses at the phone, then she turns and continues up the stairs.

“Don’t take too long rolling up those windows, Lover,” she teases. “It’s the top of the 7th.

Batter up.”

* * * * * * * * * *

Chapter 2: Rounding The Bases on AO3 (Rated E)

Originally published for the 2023 SarahBucky Summer event.

Thanks for reading! (Or re-reading!)

[tllgrrl]

SarahBucky Fleur De Louve Month 2023 - Day 7 - Prompt: “I think it looks nice.”

Sarah Wilson / Bucky Barnes

(Story inspired by Vogue Magazine’s photograph of Serena Williams in a custom Thom Browne corset gown.)

* * * * * * * * * *

When he was finished, she gingerly tip-toed to the mirror and turned around.

‘Oh…mygawd,” she whispered. “Wow…”

She turned again, stopped, and looked over her shoulder at her reflection. Her upper back was framed, and the red, white, and navy blue ribbons—that laced up the corset dress from the curve of her ass up to her waist, and from just below her shoulder blades down to the waist—stood in contrast to the black, hand-sequined fabric.

Bucky was the one who cinched her in and tied the two sections together with one bow.

The hair and makeup stylist Misty recommended was a dream. He parted her thick curly hair, braided it into 4 sections that met at the nape of her neck, then he added an extension, into which he braided one of the extra laces that came with the dress.

“You don’t think it’s too much, do you? I mean, this is New York, and the event’s really fancy, but…this. And unlacing it all later tonight is gonna be—“

*shhick…click*

She glanced over and saw him standing behind her, by the wall, as still as a statue, watching her look at herself in the full-length mirror.

His lips were slightly parted and she saw the tip of his tongue wet his bottom lip before his teeth rolled over it.

Then she saw the quick squint.

*sshhick…click*

His left hand slowly flexed, and in his right hand was his EDC switchblade that he was opening and closing methodically.

He was looking at her as though he was mapping out access points for Special Ops maneuvers.

“I think it looks great, nandi. And getting you out of it’s not gonna be a problem at all.”

* * * * * * * * * *

Also posted HERE on AO3.

* * * * * * * * * *

Thanks for reading!

[tllgrrl]

Heart Beat: a SarahBucky Vampire AU - Chapter 3 - The Beautiful One is Here by @tllgrrl aka Nefertiri Jones

Relationship: Cardiologist!Vampire!Sarah Wilson/Vampire!James “Bucky” Barnes

Rated: M | TWs: Mention of blood; Assault.

* * * * * * * * * *

Summary: Losing a patient anywhere wasn’t easy.

Each doctor, nurse, EMT, had their own way of dealing with it.

Sarah would just walk with nowhere specific as to where.

This time, she had a where…

* * * * * * * * * *

About an hour later, Sarah made her way down to the morgue.

She offered to deliver the paperwork herself before heading back up to the lounge for a much-needed cup of hot coffee…minus an apple fritter.

She had to do…something. Walk. Run. Just go. Somewhere. She chalked it up to losing a patient in the Trauma Unit.

Losing a patient anywhere wasn’t easy. But…

(I knew him. No you didn’t. Don’t be silly.)

Along with the folder of forms and reports she carried the “belongings” bag containing the deceased’s clothing and shoes.

The EMTs had carefully removed his leather jacket and stabilized him before getting him into the ambulance, but because of the height of the fall, and that he was unconscious, unresponsive, and there was a fair amount of blood, they decided to go ahead and cut his shirts and everything else off of him so they could determine the extent of his injuries, unhindered by the clothes, and begin whatever treatment they needed to perform in transit to the awaiting hospital trauma unit.

In the elevator, on the way down to the bottom floor, Sarah’s mind replayed bits of conversation between the two of them.

“Sergeant, were you really fighting? Fighting on the roof?”

“I’m always fighting.”

And she wondered if he would’ve been upset that his jeans and shirts were ruined, but happy his leather jacket was spared.

She also had a smaller plastic bag containing a wallet, set of keys, what looked like a vintage Zippo lighter, a pair of old Army dog tags on a relatively newer chain, and a switchblade that the EMT found in a calf holster he was wearing when they cut his jeans off.

It wasn’t the first time she’d heard of or seen armed patients in the ER.

She’d also seen her fair share of dog tags, but not ones as old as these.

Maybe they were some sort of sentimental thing. Could’ve been his father’s or grandfather’s.

“Fighting who? Why?”

“Not now. There’s no time. Listen…”

It didn’t matter now. None of it mattered.

What did matter was, a) something had happened in the ER that it seemed only she heard or saw; and b) she wanted to see him one more time before the Coroners took him—took his body—away.

“Find me, Sarah. I’ll be waiting for you.”

No. She didn’t want to see him.

She needed to see him.

When she tapped her ID number into the keypad, the doors swung open, she entered the morgue, and the doors quietly shut behind her with a soft click.

The only (living) person she saw seemed to be one of the attendants, who was looking out the windows with his back to her.

It sounded like he was quietly talking to someone, but there was no one else there.

“The wrong one…the right one…is…here…”

The front desk area was lit with a couple of overhead fluorescents. The rest of the room was dark, except for the soft ambient light pouring through the windows that made up most of the back wall.

“Hello? Excuse me. I’m Dr. Wilson.

The patient, the decedent, they brought down from the ER about an hour ago, Sergeant James Barnes? I have his personal effects. And I need your signature on this paperwork for the…”

The man didn’t move, and now the only sound in the room was the rain on the windows.

It had started just a few minutes ago, and it was already pouring buckets.

“Wow. It’s really coming down,” she offered, putting the bag of clothing on the desk. Walking over to the windows she marveled at the stunning view as a flash of lightning lit up the City below them.

St. Francis Hospital was situated on a hill, so even some rooms on the bottommost floors afforded a spectacular view of San Francisco. This room was one of them.

The thunder rolled a few seconds later.

“Storm must be almost right on top of us. I feel for anybody out in the middle of all that,” she mused. “I love the rain, but—“

Then a bolt of lightning flashed so bright, and the crack of thunder following it so loud, it made her jump.

It flashed again and the overheads at the front desk flickered, then went out.

The streetlights, traffic signals, and all the buildings down in the streets below were dark now, too.

A whole swath of the city—and the morgue—had gone black.

“That’s not good,” she whispered to herself, after the accompanying thunder faded.

(…nine-Mississippi, eight-Mississippi, seven-Mississippi…)

Six seconds later, the hospital’s emergency generators kicked in.

The room was still dark, but the essential parts of the morgue—the refrigerators, autoclaves, and a couple of emergency lights—were running.

The lightning flashed again, and again thunder rolled right behind it.

“Mehr-see Bon-dyoo, as my grammaw would say. Thank God for modern—“

“You shouldn’t be here,” the man sighed.

Continued on AO3.

* * * * * * * * * * *

Chapter 4 - Safe aHouse, Pt. 1 - Well, How Did I Get Here?

Chapter 3 - The Beautiful One is Here

Chapter 2 - The Beautiful One is Coming, Pt. 2

Chapter 1 - The Beautiful One is Coming, Pt. 1

[tllgrrl]

Heart Beat: a SarahBucky Vampire AU

Chapter 1, Part 1 “The Beautiful One is coming.”

Relationship: Cardiologist!Vampire Sarah Wilson / Vampire!James “Bucky” Barnes

* * * * * * * * * *

San Francisco, California - 1989

It wasn’t supposed to be her. She wasn’t even originally scheduled to be there that night. She’d simply agreed to work someone else’s shift.

That’s where it happened. At work.

Claudette Singh had called St. Francis of Assisi Hospital.

Dr. Arun Singh’s appendix had burst during the 4th inning at their kid’s Little League game, so he wasn’t going to make it to work.

Dr. Nina Chow was his backup, but she was busy giving birth to twins and thus a little bit occupied.

Dr. Max Richards, was laid up with a broken arm and recovering from a mild concussion due a rollerblading accident.

(“Don’t ask,” he replied when asked, but word got out anyway about the drinks, the bet, and how lucky he was. He’d wiped out just yards before the intersection, causing him to miss a collision with a cable car.)

Dr. Sarah Wilson, the on-staff cardiology fellow, was next in the rotation.

Having just hung up on her now Ex, she answered the phone on the first ring thinking she was about to give him another piece of her mind, but instead ended up agreeing to work the upcoming weekend’s night shift because, other than work, her calendar was now completely free.

Again.

***

Despite it being an unusually quiet Friday night, a man who had apparently fallen/jumped/was thrown from the roof of a building over on Upper Market Street was being wheeled into the ER at about the same time Sarah was upstairs taking a break in the Doctor’s lounge, and beginning to smell the apple fritter heating up in the fancy new Radarange microwave that replaced the ancient toaster that had finally given up the ghost two weeks earlier.

{*Ding!*}

“Awwwyeah, come here you hot, sweet thannng,” she crooned to herself, opening the oven and removing the treat.

Just as she sat down and picked up her fork—

<<Doctor Wilson. Doctor Sarah Wilson, please call the ER immediately. Doctor Wilson, please call 999…>>

“No! Nononooo,” she wailed. “Can’t a sistah get a proper break?”

“Guess not,” Nurse Sanchez laughed as he glided into the break room gleefully rubbing his hands together. “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure that fritter gets a good home.”

<<Doctor Sarah Wilson, please report to Emergency. Doctor Wilson, to Emergency, please.>>

“Ha-ha. Very funny, Octavio. You and Cynthia got my maple bar yesterday with this trickery. Get your own fritter, you sneaky—“

“My God, what is that delicious smell?!” Head Nurse Robbins practically panted, peeking into the lounge, eyes scanning the room for the source of the aroma.

“Oh, Doctor Wilson! ER just called. Dr. Haddid needs you downstairs, ASAP.”

Nurse Sanchez shrugged. “Sorry, Doc.”

Pouting, Sarah sighed, gave him the plate, and hurried to the elevator.

To be continued…

* * * * * * * * * *

Finally. And with a slightly updated moodboard for the actual fic.

Thanks @fleurdelouve for the nudge. I’ve been hesitating with this for too long. (And Thanks Alan Silvestri and Ludwig Göransson for being my soundtrack this morning, assisting me in getting off my ass and start posting this thing.)

[tllgrrl]

SarahBucky Fleur De Louve Month 2023 - Day 6 Prompt: “There’s no place like home.” | SFW

Sarah Wilson/Bucky Barnes, and Special Guest Cameos: Cass & AJ Wilson and Alpine the Cat

* * * * * * * * * *

He sees the front porch, and another piece of what he called “the Thunder-whatever thing” falls off of him.

Stepping out of the van, he grabbed his backpack and duffle, and nodded to the driver.

“Thanks, pal.”

“My pleasure, Sarge!”

The vehicle pulled away, and before Bucky mounted the steps, he looked around the yard, doing a casual perimeter check.

Some old habits can’t die.

Especially not now, when everything he holds dear is on the other side of that door.

He closed his eyes and heard the boys and Sarah inside:

“Luke! You can nevah defeat me!”

“I am stronger with the Force, Vader!”

“Nuh-uh!”

“Uh-huh!”

“Cass! AJ! Are you done with your homework?”

And he smelled food cooking.

Meatloaf, greens, macaroni and cheese.

His mouth watered coming off of 3 ½ weeks of food from fast food stores and greasy diners, none of it properly seasoned as far as he was concerned.

A small white cat stepped onto the porch, sat, and waited.

“Hi there,” he said softly, scratching behind her ear with his right hand. She jumped up into his arms, and climbed up to his left shoulder.

“I missed you too,” he cooed. “You been good, Alpine?”

‘Mrow,” she answered, rubbed her face on his ear, purring.

Before putting the key into the lock, he placed his hand on the door jamb.

“Sikelela le ndawo,” he whispered.

Opening the door, he sees a lightsaber duel in full swing in the living room, accompanied, of course, by John Williams’ iconic music coming from the TV.

“Hey fellas!”

“Uncle Bucky!” the boys chime together, dropping their plastic weapons, running to hug him and tussle over his duffle and backpack.

Alpine jumps down heading straight for the kitchen as he knelt so they could all get their arms around each other.

“Guys? Did you hear me?” Sarah calls, walking into the dining room as he stands and closes the door. “Time to get ready for—“

Her face lights up, but her “Mama’s Not Playing” voice is what the boys hear:

“Are you guys lightsabering in this house again? You know better. Go put Bucky’s bags in the mudroom, pick up your stuff out of here, wash your hands and set the table. You can play space battle outside after dinner.”

“Okay, mama!” They snickered hauling the bags into the kitchen because they knew what was going to happen next: The Kissin’ Stuff, which they didn’t mind too much because it made their mama all smiley. Mama and Uncle Bucky.

“Hey Sarah.”

“James. Come’ere, you.”

She opens her arms and he walks into her embrace.

He removed his dog tags and placed them around her neck before he kissed her, and as he did, Alpine continued to purr as she wound her way around their legs and the boys carried on with their Luke vs Vader debate while putting plates and silverware on the dining room table.

This was where he wanted to be, and where Sarah wanted him: in kid’s hijinx, in cat chaos, and in her arms.

He meant it from the bottom of his heart when he looked into her eyes and said:

“There’s no place like home.”

* * * * * * * * * *

Posted HERE on the AO3 .

Thanks for reading!

[tllgrrl]

“Tell Me A Story” by @tllgrrl aka Nefertiri Jones

Fleur De Louve SarahBucky Month 2023 | Week 2/Day 8: “Tell me a story.” “I don’t know any stories.”

Sarah Wilson / Bucky Barnes. Special Guest: Sam Wilson

* * * * * * * * * *

Summary: “Tell me a story.”

“I don’t know any stories.”

“Not according to Cass and AJ.”

* * * * * * * * * *

“Sarah. Sithandwa. Sithandwa, yiza apha…”

She looked down at him and would’ve laughed at the request if she wasn’t trying so hard not to cry. Or yell at him. She couldn’t do either because he was lying on the bed, semi-conscious, wearing a hospital gown. There was a cannula in his nose, tubes in his arm, and there were wires connected to monitors taped to his chest and temples.

His Vibranium prosthesis was on the other bed, his kimoyo next to it. They both softly glowed and beeped, the fingers intermittently twitched.

And his ever-present dog tags were on a small stand next to the bed.

Though Sarah couldn’t see his chest or back, she knew the bruises there were already starting to fade, like the ones on his face and arm. But that didn’t mean he was unhurt.

It didn’t mean he didn’t hurt.

The doctor had a whole list of his injuries, both external and internal. No concussion, though. (How is that even possible?)

There was a right eye contusion, and a cut across the eyebrow. His other eye was closed, but he knew she was there.

Later, he would tell her “I could smell you. You smelled…tasty.”

“Your nose was almost broken, James. How—?”

“Broken, but still functioning, nandi.”

But for now…

“Please…ndikundinga, sithanda…”

To avoid the tubes that seemed to be everywhere, she gently put her hand on his ankle.

His eyelid, the one not almost swollen shut, fluttered.

“Ndifuna wena…Sarah,” he sighed.

“What did he say?” Sam glanced over at Sarah.

That one she understood. She looked up at Sam, her mouth opened, then closed, and she looked back at Bucky, trying to hide her face.

He’d been teaching her isiXhosa pretty much since they started dating, and there were some words and phrases she had memorized because of situations.

“Oh. Right. I don’t want to know. I’ll just…leave you two to…”

He reached over and patted Bucky’s shoulder.

“Thank you, man. See you later.”

He kissed his sister’s cheek, “When he wakes up, tell him I’m gonna kick his ass for throwing himself in front of…never mind. You don’t need all the details,” and sat back down in the wheelchair.

“Just hope I don’t kick both your asses for being reckless, Samuel,” she half-teased. “I’ll come by in a little bit, okay?”

“You two behave in here, now,” he gently chided. “Don’t be doing anything provocative, you hear me? I know how you two get.”

The nurse wheeled him out of the room, and started to snicker.

Sam looked up over his shoulder and glared. “What! Keep an eye on them. I’m telling you. They’re…they’re…unreasonable! You have no idea what they do when they think nobody can see—“

After the door closed, Sarah gingerly avoided disturbing the tubes and wires, leaned over Bucky—trying not to take inventory of the cuts and bruises that she could actually see, trying to ignore the fact that she was in a hospital again after all these years—and she planted a soft kiss on his forehead, where miraculously, there wasn’t a single scratch.

“Hey, sweet-talker,” she whispered, “I’m right here.”

“Mmmmm…” he hummed.

She lightly ran her fingers through his hair. Not feeling any bumps or sutures, she did it again, a little harder. He whimpered softly and tried to lean his head into her hand.

“You scared the shit out of me, Bucky.”

She could see the side of his mouth curve up. The side that wasn’t swollen.

“Guess I’m…really in trouble, huh?” He whispered, tried to chuckle, then winced.

“Uh-huh. Don’t think I’m not gonna give you a piece of my mind when you…when…”

(Don’t cry. Don’t cry-don’t cry-don’t cry.)

“Intanda…” he whispered. “I’m sorry, Sarah. Ungandisiyi. Please, don’t leave me.”

“Baby…I’m not going anywhere.”

“Please talk to me. I don’t want to sleep.”

“You need to sleep, James. So you can heal—“

“Tell me a story.”

“But…I don’t know any stories.”

“Not according to Cass and AJ.”

“Oh. So they ratted me out, huh,” she grinned.

“I just want to hear your voice…know that you’re here…that I’m still here…with you.”

“Okay, mthandi. I will.”

As she runs her fingers through his hair, she tells him a story her boys sometimes ask for before they go to sleep.

“Once upon a time, there was a widow with two young sons, and she had a fishing boat…”

He was softly snoring before she finished the first sentence.

She picked up the dog tags that were on the side stand, put the chain over her head and tucked them into her blouse.

Then she pulled a chair over next to the bed, sat, took his hand, and within a few minutes, exhausted and emotionally wrung out, she was asleep, too.

Had she been able to, had there not been all of the tubes and monitor cables and what-all else hooked into and onto him, she would’ve climbed onto his bed and held him.

She doesn’t remember the nurses coming in, waking her, and guiding her onto the other bed in the room.

It had been pushed a little closer to Bucky’s.

She was to his left, away from the monitors and the wires.

As she stretched out on the bed, she slipped his kimoyo onto her right wrist and pulled the prosthesis close.

They put a blanket over her, turned the overhead fluorescences off, leaving the room lit by the soft light over the patient’s bed, and with the sounds of the gentle beeps of the heart monitor, and the soft snores of the couple sleeping next to each other on separate beds.

***

She hears him hum as she plants tiny kisses on his upper arm, still half sleep and smiling.

His fingers are between her legs.

“Molo, nandi…”

“Molo, baby…that feels nice…”

“I’ll bet.”

Then she remembers, and sits up in the bed.

“What—?!”

“I’ve never been jealous of my hand before now.”

She looked down. She was holding his Vibranium arm, and her thighs were clamped around the hand, which, just at that second, chose to twitch, causing her to squeak and giggle.

She saw that his tubes and monitors had been removed, the head of the bed was raised, and he was looking at her, smiling that smile of delight and devilment.

And at that moment came a knock, the door opened, and Sam’s voice called out, “I hope you two are decent in here—“

The nurse pushing the wheelchair didn’t bother to cover the guffaw.

“HA! See? What’d I tell you?!?”

“What, I didn’t see anything, Cap,” the nurse laughed and winked at Sarah and Bucky, who looked at each other, and joined in on the mirth.

“That’s right, Samuel!”

* * * * * * * * * *

Thanks for reading my fluffy nonsense!

Also posted HERE on the AO3.

[tllgrrl]

Vampire, Hunter. Vampire Hunter.

Excerpt from Heart Beat, coming soon.

* * * * * * *

James Buchanan (“Bucky”) Barnes, hunter of rogue vampires, wasn’t “turned” so much as created by the Nazis, in a prison-camp…in 1944.

A Daywalker, he was Vampire but not one bound to sleep in the daytime—away from the deadly rays of the sun—only coming to life after dusk.

“None of that ‘Children o’ the Night’ bullshit for me, pal,” he sneered, stabbing a cigarette butt into his neighborhood bar’s one remaining ashtray.

“Swear ta Gawd, I’d jump out of a plane into the middle of the Sahara Desert at High Noon ‘f I had to live like that.”

[tllgrrl]

Heart Beat: a SarahBucky Vampire AU - Chapter 4: Safe House, Pt 1 - Well, How Did I Get Here? by @tllgrrl aka Nefertiri Jones

Summary: He wasn’t supposed to be in this situation. She most certainly wasn’t. She wasn’t supposed to know his kind even existed outside of movies, books, and TV shows that she never let on she gleefully watched while consuming fresh hot popcorn and a glass of wine.

All either of them could think was:

Well…how (TF) did I get here?

* * * * * * * * * *

Mama! Come on mama!

I won’t hurt you…

Come on, Honey!

Say it. I need you to believe it. Please…tell me.

Last one in!

I’ll take care of you. You’re safe. I promise…I promise. I’ve got you…

…Sarah.

* * * * *

“CJ…baby, I missed you so much…” she murmured.

She tried to open her eyes. The room was dark.and she could barely move, but she always enjoys the feeling of him holding her, their long legs entwined while they sleep.

“Shhhh…” Arms tightened, pulling her closer. “Not yet. Here…”

“Mmmm…this…is…”

“Good? Yes, it is. Now sleep.”

Full, content, she sank back into the warm darkness.

* * * * *

48 hours later…

She was in bed. A bed. Not her bed.

And it was dark.

“CJ…Cassius…?” She reached back and found nothing. An empty space, a cold pillow.

It was so real. It always felt so real.

“Wha…what…?” She struggled, pushing herself to sit up, and when she did a wave of nausea rolled over her, compounded by an extreme sense of vertigo that gave her a feeling of falling.

Falling up. Like resurfacing from a deep dive.

She was wearing what seemed to be a man’s shirt that was very much over-sized on her almost 6 foot tall frame.

Her hands quickly confirmed that she was also wearing a bra and panties, which gave her a momentary sense of relief seeing as how she had no idea where she was or how she got wherever she was.

Her relief was short-lived because out of nowhere she was hit with an almost overwhelming feeling, like a switch was flipped on in her whole body:

(Hungry.)

She flinched and swallowed the scream that started to crawl up her throat.

She wasn’t just hungry. She was famished, and how quickly it hit her almost took her breath away.

“Shit…” she whispered, “what was that?”

“Deep breaths. Take your time…” a deep voice softly spoke from somewhere nearby. “It is a shock at first.”

That voice.

Deep in her body she felt an almost primal urge to run, but…where? It was dark and she couldn’t see anything.

It was so dark that she couldn’t get oriented, but she was now crowded against what felt to be the headboard. Trying to put her body where no one…nothing…could get behind her.

He could clearly see her, though, in the dark room.

“Your vision will start adjusting, soon. Just keep breathing.”

“Who are you? Where am I?” she rasped over a dry throat. “Where are my clothes?! I was wearing—uh!“

She gasped, grabbed and held onto the sheets while the bed began to spin.

“Stop…stop…ohgod…” she whimpered, hardly able to hear herself over the ringing in her ears.

The mattress dipped beside her, a large hand touched hers and the bed stopped spinning. Her ears immediately stopped ringing, too, but when she snatched her hand away, the ringing and spinning resumed.

“Don’t…touch me…ugh—”

The next thing she knew she was desperately feeling for the edge of the bed and when she found it, she leaned over and was sick.

She pulled her knees under her, momentarily ignoring the hand that was on her back, steadying her. Then an arm was holding her from behind as she retched again, gasping and coughing.

“That’s normal,” he said, gently.

“No,” she groaned, trying to push him away. “Not…not…”

She tried to say how not “normal” this was, because not only was she occupied vomiting so hard her eyes began to water, somehow she was also desperately hungry.

So hungry she wanted to cry.

So hungry she almost felt giddy while puking her whole insides out.

She’d never felt hunger like this.

Her whole body… craved.

When she seemed done, he settled her away from the edge of the bed and back against the headboard.

She felt a damp cloth pressed to her face, wiping her mouth.

Had her hands not been shaking, she would have taken the cloth and done it herself.

“That’s a little better, yeah? I'll take care o’ the floor and I’ll get you another shirt in a minute.”

Looking at him her eyes began to adjust, getting accustomed to the darkness. Just like he said.

She recognized him. Those eyes. That voice.

The man from the ER… and the morgue.

“No! Get away from me!! You get the fuck away from me!!”

Pushing him away, she crawled/dragged herself to the middle of the bed, her arms and legs feeling like it’d been ages ago that she’d used them.

“What the hell?! I was…I was at the hospital! How’d I get…where am I?!”

For a few seconds she heard a heartbeat that was slow and steady, not like hers because her heart was busy trying to beat its way out of her chest.

She backed off the foot of the bed and looked around her.

It was dark but gradually she began to make out objects and shapes. She could see that it was a large loft space. There were various pieces of furniture in the middle, bookcases filled with books along some of the walls.

She was in what seemed to be a private corner of the loft, with a wardrobe and a large antique-looking vanity. The bedroom.

And standing next to the large bed, was…

Barnes.

“Sarah…”

She took a step back. Then another. “You…”

Then she turned and managed to take a few staggering steps but her legs weren’t trying to comply. He must’ve known what was about to happen because before she hit the floor she was caught, lifted as though she weighed nothing, and placed back on the bed.

“How long have I…been…ohgod—“

She leaned over the side, gagged, threw up again and wiped her mouth with the sleeve of the shirt she was wearing.

Then she saw it. She knew what she was just looking at, but her brain kept pushing it away.

Trying to catch her breath, she pushed herself back from the edge of the mattress, got up to her knees, held out the blood-smeared sleeve to him and yelled “What the fuck is this?!?“

Then the bed rose up and crashed into her.

Keep Reading on AO3

* * * * * * * * * *

Chapter 1 : The Beautiful One is Coming, Pt 1

Chapter 2 : The BeautifulOne is Coming, Pt 2

Chapter 3 : The Beautiful One is Here

[tllgrrl]

Quam Celerrime Ad Astra by @tllgrrl aka Nefertiri Jones

A SarahBucky AU | Rated: T | Pairing: Astronaut!Sarah Wilson x Astronaut!Bucky Barnes | Space Fluff

⋆ . ˚ ✩ ✭ ⋆☆ﾟ ﾟ⋆☆ﾟ✭ ✩ ˚ . ⋆ ⋆ . ˚ ✩ ✭ ⋆☆ﾟ ﾟ⋆☆ﾟ✭ ✩ ˚ . ⋆

They officially started dating during the 18 months of mission training.

9 months in, after grueling, intense, no holds barred physical and mental prep for the mission, good-natured ribbing became coffee breaks, and commiseration became lunches. Study sessions became deep conversations. Dinners with the team became dinners for two, and eventually dinner and the next morning, breakfast in bed.

Their last time to themselves before reporting to the Facility for the week-long preflight quarantine with the crew, they spent the night making love as if it was literally their last night on Earth because the mission was going to be a very long 6 months.

At one point, seeing the bite mark on his shoulder and the bruise on her hip, between kisses she teased, “Keep this up Lover Boy, they’re gonna give us our physicals and wonder if we’re in a Fight Cub.”

“No doubt,” he murmured, rolling the two of them over. “I’m not too heavy on you, am I?”

“Hold on…” she mused, then shifting her hip, her thigh relaxed open a little wider, which pulled an appreciative moan and a soft giggle from both of them. “There. Not heavy at all. This…is definitely one of the benefits of gravity.”

“Affirmative…”

⋆ . ˚ ✩ ⋆ . ˚

4 months later, a little more than 2 months remaining of a hand held here, an arm brushed there, a couple of loopy, weightless, zero gravity make out sessions, and quick kisses GoodNight before climbing into their sleeping bags tucked into individual quarters that literally could hold only one person….

“…Barnes. Barnes, do you copy back there?”

“Copy, Commander. Sorry. Just kind of…taken by this view.”

“Yeah. I don’t blame you. Seeing the Earth out there like that. It’s really something.“

“You sure are…I mean, affirmative. Over.”

“Barnes, is your COMM to Crew and Ground live?”

“Negative. We’re presently on Intercom. We have the room to ourselves.”

“Copy. We don’t want another slip up like—“

“I know. Sorry about that. I blame that slip on the Overview Effect and you. Seeing both you and the Earth, floating in space in front of me. I guess I lost myself. Good thing the crew and everyone at Ground Control all know by now that we’re—“

“They do. But what people not us didn’t need to know, or hear, was how good you think my ass looks in this space suit. Granted, you’re not wrong, but—“

“Waitaminute, hold on. Okay. COMM’s off…now.”

“James!!”

“I’m kidding! It’s just…Sarah…from where I am right now, the beauty of Space has nothing on you, cerul meu înstelat.”

“Look at you getting your flirt on at 5 miles a second! Cerul meu înstelat, huh? That’s a new one you’re going to have to teach me later, but for now, Mission Specialist Barnes, mind on task. Clock’s ticking on this EVA. You need to deploy your experiments and gather the data, and I need to check the solar arrays and the thermal blanket on the MSS so we can get back inside and let the next team get out here.”

“Which would give us a little bit of alone time, Commander Wilson. You and I only have…let’s see…36 hours left to try and set a record for the Mile High Club.”

“Ha! I miss you too, and can’t wait ‘til we get back home because not only is there no real privacy to speak of up here, we both know that…things…don’t exactly work out here in space like they do back on Earth.”

“Don’t remind me! Doesn’t stop me from wanting to—hey…do you think I can get Ground Control to release us early? You know, send a—“

“What, a Shuttle to come get us so we can rush home and—?”

“I’m just sayin’! Quarters are really close on the Station, and us not being able to…baby…it’s hard.”

“Not way out here, it’s not!”

“You’re killin’ me, Wilson!”

“Wait’ll we get home. And bring that spacesuit with you, sweet cheeks. Copy?”

[Other mission crew members are heard snickering through their headsets.]

“Hey, you two lovebirds. The sooner you finish up out there, the sooner you two can—“

“What!? BARNES!!”

“Roger that request, Commander.”

⋆ . ˚ ✩ ✭ ⋆☆ﾟ ﾟ⋆☆ﾟ✭ ✩ ˚ . ⋆

Glossary

Cerul meu înstelat (Romanian): My starry sky.

Quam celerrime ad astra (Latin): “With greatest speed to the stars.”

Roger: “received and understood”

Copy: “Roger” + “I am retaining this info”

Copy: Also means “Did you receive the message?”

EVA: Extravehicular Activity aka “spacewalk”

MSS: Mobile Servicing System. Part of which are robotic arms used to transport equipment and support astronauts during EVA.

The Overview Effect is a cognitive shift reported by some astronauts. A profound state of awe caused by a particularly striking visual stimulus such as seeing the Earth from space.

⋆ . ˚ ✩ ✭ ⋆☆ﾟ ﾟ⋆☆ﾟ✭ ✩ ˚ . ⋆

NOTES:

1) Also posted HERE on AO3.

2) Posted again for a SarahBucky Fic/Art Event, fan art by Yours Truly HERE.

2) There was no artist credited for this beautiful fantasy artwork. I even searched Google and can’t find anything. If you know who the artist is, please let me know so I can give them some proper credit. Until someone can tell me who made this, I’m going to say that it was a talented artist. And how often do we see Black women as astronauts in fantasy art? However many you say, it’s not enough.

Thank you for reading and indulging me.

⋆ . ˚ ✩ ✭ ⋆☆ﾟ ﾟ⋆☆ﾟ✭ ✩ ˚ . ⋆

[tllgrrl]

a SarahSteve AU/What If…? SnapShot

Where: Sarah Wilson’s home, Delacroix, LA.

When: Starting about 6 months following The Snap.

Who: Sarah Wilson & Steve Rogers

What if, on his third attempt to check up on Sarah after The Snap, instead of closing the door in his face or just ignoring him, she accepts his offer to help secure the old house for an approaching hurricane?

Words: a quick 2100.

* * * * * * * * * *

Music was coming from a little Bluetooth speaker sitting on the back porch railing, and a favourite tune from her Jazz Playlist had just begun when…

“Hello there.”

Her back was to him, but he could still read the eye roll, and hear the exasperated sigh.

She’d heard a motorcycle approaching.

Within the past almost 9 months, she’d ignored the 3 phone calls and 2 letters from him that preceded this visit.

“Captain Rogers,” she fished the cellphone out of her back pocket and muted the music, “shouldn’t you be off somewhere savin’ the world?”

Read the rest on AO3

* * * * * * * * * *

(SnapShots: 1-2 Part short stories that take place during the 5 years between Thanos’ fingers snapping half the Universe out of existence, and Bruce Banner/Smart Hulk snapping them back.)

[tllgrrl]

The Marks by @tllgrrl aka Nefertiri Jones

Pairing: James “Bucky” Barnes/Sarah Wilson | Rated: T / SFW

Summary: “What…did you…tell the boys…about those bites, Sarah?”, he says very slowly, between each searching, searing kiss. “Tell me, please?”

It’s one thing to explain about a scar or a bruise from when you do superhero or fishing boat stuff.

It’s another thing to try to explain something like a bite…from when Mom & Dad are having their own “Playtime”.

* * * * * * * * * *

“James…?”

There he was, at the desk in his room up in the attic.

It’s like a study. Bookshelves filled with books, a few framed photos, and some shelves of vinyl LPs.

And there’s a wooden table with a refurbished record player on it.

A wardrobe is on the other side of the attic space, against the wall opposite the bed. There’s also a dresser, a full length mirror, a wall mirror, and a chair.

The king-sized bed is under the skylight, so he knows where he is if a nightmare wakes him.

One of Sarah’s headwraps and her kimono robe are hanging on the bed frame at the foot of the bed.

He also has a sleeping bag on the floor. Just in case.

“Yeah, baby?”

“Breakfast is almost ready…”

“Sure thing.”

He looks over his shoulder, away from the laptop and schematics on his desk, and sees the almost sheepish smile on her face. Like she’s embarrassed about something.

Something that she’s not completely embarrassed about.

“What’s…that look? OK. What happened?”

“You happened. Last night. Remember?”

“Mmmmm…sure do.”

He smiles and his eyes do a quick tour of her. She’s sexy as hell even in some oversized secondhand men’s jeans and, what he knows by its colour, an almost scandalously tight tank top she’s wearing under one of his old dress shirts that has a hole in it…from a bullet fired at him during a shootout in Madripoor where, after that mission, he half-heartedly swore to Sam he’d never return.

“It was nice.” He grins, leaning back in the chair. “Especially when you did that thing where your hips—“

“Yeah, no. This is about the thing you did.”

She was looking at the floor, then she looked up and caught his eyes.

And she smiled, then bit her lip.

Which made him put down his pen, and turn his chair around to face her.

“Sarah…if you ask me if you can give me a hypothetical, I will lock us in this room…and do things with you…breakfast, lunch, and dinner be damned.”

They both laugh.

“I was giving the boys their breakfast, and they saw these…”

She shows him the inside of her left forearm, and also where her neck meets her shoulder.

Even from where he’s sitting he can see that those are his teeth marks, upper and lower, as well as bruising.

“Cass’s mind, of course, went straight to Werewolves. AJ? Vampires.

I had to stop myself from telling them that Cass was the closest, because the White Wolf’s story isn’t mine to tell, sithandwa. It’s yours.

They asked me what happened…and…I…I told them…”

“What did you tell them, baby?”

“Well…I…” she looks away from him. “I…” She drops her head.

“Sarah?” He’s now smiling at her embarrassment. “Close the door.”

She turns, quietly closes the door…and locks it.

When she turns back to face him, he’s about 3 feet away from her.

(How…?! He was way on the other side of the room! How?!?)

“Sa-raaah…” He takes a step, picks up her left hand and pushes the already rolled sleeve up further to reveal her arm, and the obvious bite mark shaped like two crescents, surrounded by bruising, visible on her otherwise flawless deep brown skin.

He hisses and looks up into her eyes, and sees that she’s…

(She’s blushing.)

“Aw, baby.…” He kisses the bite, lightly licks it, and kisses it again. Then he runs the back of his metal hand gently over her left cheek, pulls the shirt collar away from her neck, and sees the same type of bite marks near her shoulder, these too, surrounded by bruises.

“Sarah…I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, baby. I wasn’t trying to hurt you.”

“I was putting their plates down, about to reach across for the syrup, and I pushed the sleeve up so it wouldn’t…and I wasn’t thinking about it until I heard Cass gasp and drop his fork.

Then AJ pointed at me and said ‘Mama, are you hurt?’ He saw just the edge of the bruise on my neck. Thank God I pulled the collar closed before he saw the whole bite and started yelling for Sam to come look—“

“Well…what did you tell them? That I’m a werewolf?” he chuckled.

He took off his shirt, unzipped his jeans, pulled them down…and there, on his left side, and on his upper right thigh, were two bite marks, and bruises that looked like they were fading as she watched.

She shakes her head, feeling herself wanting to laugh partially because she’s embarrassed at the thought of her kids seeing evidence of adult—particularly their Mom and Dad’s sexual shenanigans, and partially because her partner in said shenanigans is standing close…really close.

He pulls his pants up and puts his shirt back on.

“And so, my question remains unanswered.”

“I…told them…I…Okay…”

“Saaa-raaah”, he coos as he takes another step closer and his chest is a couple of inches away from contact with her body. “Tell me, baby.”

“James…”

“Yes…?”

“I need to go back downstairs. I have…there’s oatmeal cooking—“

“SAM?”

“Yeah, Buck?”

“CAN YOU KEEP AN EYE ON THE OATMEAL? SARAH’S IN THE BATHROOM.”

“Sure thing.”

“THANKS!

There. Now...” He closes the last inch of space between them, bends his knees a little, then pulls himself up to his full height, dragging his body against hers while pressing her back into the door, his hands flat against the wood, one down by her waist, the other up by her head.

“You…were saying?” he says softly, into her ear.

“I…told them…well, I said to them..that…” she whispered, panting.

‘You’re stalling…” he said, eyes twinkling mischievously, “but you know me. I can do this all day.”

He kisses her…and kisses her…and kisses her, his tongue rolls across her teeth and sweeps across her tongue…and he pulls her bottom lip into his mouth…

“Tell me, baby. Use your words…” he says, now also rolling his hips on her as he tries to pull the words out of her with his mouth.

She feels her focus start to telescope down to where all she is aware of is his mouth having its way with hers, and how she could easily beg him to have some mercy and please use that mouth of his on other parts of her…but…

“What…did you…tell the boys…about…those bites…Sarah?” He says very slowly, between each searching, searing kiss. “Tell me, please?”

“Ohmygod…” she says into his mouth, gasping for breath, and giggling.

“I told them…that you’d explain it to them.”

* * * * * * * * * *

Originally posted HERE on AO3 about 2 years ago. Happy Fic Birthday.

[tllgrrl]

Snowed in…elsewhere. by @tllgrrl aka Nefertiri Jones

Relationships: Sarah Wilson/Bucky Barnes | Rated: SFW

Summary: It’s going to be 70 degrees at home in Delacroix, Louisiana, but the two of them are snowed in…elsewhere.

”…and the snow is still falling, blanketing the Eastern Seaboard. All flights in and out of La Guardia have been cancelled for the past 18 hours and now, all flights out of DC are cancelled as well, leaving passengers stranded at…”

Sarah opens her eyes and sees the Weather Channel lady in front of a map with snowflake graphics covering a large swath of the East Coast, from above New York State, down past Washington DC.

The scrolling text lists airlines that canceled what flights coming into or leaving which airports.

There’s La Guardia…and there’s the flight they were supposed to be on yesterday afternoon. Today’s flights are also canceled.

She feels Bucky’s arm tighten around her and a scratchy face nuzzling her shoulder.

She looks over, sees their backpacks and carry-ons still waiting by the door…and his warm hand opens on her breast as he kisses the nape of her neck.

“Molo, baby,” sleep still in his voice, making it all deeply rumbly in his chest. She feels it on her back.

Yesterday morning after breakfast, they learned that their late afternoon flight out had been canceled. All flights out were canceled.

She had a good cry, phoned the kids, and he brought his mattress into the living room area of the loft.

They made a blanket fort, where they spent the day reading, listening to music, dancing and napping.

After dinner, they watched movies, and he snuggled her closer. “This isn’t so bad, nandi. Rather be here with you than stuck, snowed-in at the airport. We’ll get home to Delacroix before Christmas Eve.”

“Mmmm, true, baby.”

And he kissed her. And kissed her.

And she kissed him right back.

They fell asleep…afterward…with Netflix’s Fireplace video on the TV, as snow fell on Brooklyn.

divider by @firefly-graphics

Glossary - nandi : sweetness, delightful (isiXhosa)

Molo: good morning (isiXhosa)

* * * * *

First posted in 2021. Also on The AO3.

Thanks for reading. (And re-reading.)

[tllgrrl]

7th Inning Stretch by @tllgrrl aka Nefertiri Jones

@sarahbuckybingo Summer Prompt Fest 2023 - Week 5: “Beat The Heat”

Pairing - Sarah Wilson x James “Bucky” Barnes

Rating- Part 1: T (Tumblr & AO3) / Part 2: M (A03)

Summary: Sarah + Bucky + Summer + Baseball + Waltzing + Ice(?) = Shenanigans

* * * * * * * * *

Part 1: “Take me out…”

Steamy.

It’s not just a hot and humid Day Off Monday. By now, the sun’s almost set, but it still feels like a sauna outside.

Rain is in the forecast. It hasn’t started yet, but it’s on its way.

Sam’s visiting for a few days, so to keep two bored tween boys from going stir crazy he offers to take his nephews to the movies and then a mini-shopping spree at Crescent City Comics in NOLA, so Sarah and Bucky are lazing on the sofa, both in lightweight cotton shorts and tank tops.

The way most of the old homes in the area are built, opening windows and/or doors and letting the air flow through was the way “air conditioning” worked in the generations-old Wilson house.

Because both Sam and Bucky had cutting edge tech connections via Stark Industries and WakandaTech, low-profile, high-efficiency and environmentally friendly A/C was also a way the house was kept comfortable via window units installed in the living room and the bedrooms, including Bucky’s bedroom/office in the attic.

But tonight, after sundown, open windows and good screens worked perfectly well.

Bucky got the small ice chest out of the storage closet, filled it with ice, a couple of bottles of beer and 2 bottles of water, and Sarah laid out some snacks, including a few of his favorite granola bars, on the coffee table..

He’s watching the L.A. Dodgers (the “Brooklyn” Dodgers, as he sometimes calls them) play the New York Mets while he rubs her feet with his warm right hand.

She’s enjoying the hell out of the pampering, while reading the novelization of the Bridgerton TV show spinoff, Queen Charlotte.

He knows what she’s reading and enjoys the way she tries to keep a cool demeanor at the juicy parts.

He can hear her when she says under her breath, “Well, alright now…” or “Mmm…” And he took particular note when she covered her mouth, whispered “Giiiirrrrl, yessss…” and her toes curled in his hand.

He planned to try and get her to read whatever that part was aloud to him later.

“It’s almost time,” he informs her, releasing her foot and rubbing his left hand, still cool from holding a cold beer, on her legs.

“Mmmm…that’s nice.” she sighs as she lightly kneads his thigh with her heels. “Time for what?”

“7th Inning Stretch. You know the song, right? Take me me out—“

“To the ball game? Everybody knows that song.”

“Yeah, the chorus part of it, but do you know the verses?”

She lays the book down on the coffee table next to the bowl of roasted peanuts, snags a little cube of ice and rubs it on her wrists, her neck and her collarbone.

He watches a drop of water from the ice make its way from the dimple at the base of her throat, down her chest and roll into her cleavage.

For a second he contemplates going after that drop with his mouth, his tongue.

Instead, he gives her another piece of ice and pops some into his own mouth, crunches it, then takes her hand and plants cool kisses on the inside of her arm from the pulse point on her wrist to the crook of her elbow, all the while taking note of her reaction.

“Is that right?” She she murmurs, getting a little lost because it feels like every time his cold mouth lands on her warm skin, all of her attention, her focus, is drawn to that spot on her body.

And he sees her thighs clench just a little when he reaches the inside of her elbow, kisses it and then rubs his bearded cheek on it, making her hiss and pull away but just a little because the cold followed by the warmth makes her want more.

“Verses? That song has verses? Lay it on me, Sinatra.”

“Okay, it goes something like,

🎶Katie Casey was baseball mad, had the fever and had it bad.

Just to root for the hometown crew,

Every sou—that’s a penny—Katie blew…🎶”

“Really! That’s how it starts?”

“Yeah. Learned it from my Pa. There’s even this other version about a girl named Nellie Kelly.”

“Anyway….” she ruffles his hair and lightly raking her nails on his scalp, she watches his eyelids start to flutter. “I’ve never heard the intro before. My baseball knowledge isn’t deep. Daddy’d sometimes watch depending on who was playing, and you know about Sam and his football. I’m into whatever the boys are into, but I don’t know a lot about baseball.”

“My Ma loved baseball. Prob’ly more’n Pa. She’d listen to games on the radio doing' housework, or makin’ dinner, and during the 7th Inning Stretch she’d grab me and Becca, turn the radio up, and we’d all three of us dance around in the living room. God, in the summertime it’d be so hot, but we didn’t care.

Sometimes if I had a little bit o’ money left from a job, when the ice wagon came around I’d run downstairs and get us snow cones.

Man, when that ice hit your mouth…it was like heaven. I’ll never forget…”

Sarah sees that soft smile and look of almost wonderment he sometimes gets when an old formerly lost memory resurfaces.

‘Well, anyway…” He stood up, taking her hand and leading her to the middle of the room, “I’ll be more than happy to be your private baseball tutor.”

“Private tutor, huh?”

“Mmm-hmmm. May I?”

She nods, he places her right hand on his shoulder, takes her left hand, and pulls her nearer.

“When you’re watching the boys’ team play, you want to be the parent who actually knows what they’re yelling at the ump for.”

“Well, I thank you in advance, Professor Barnes. So when do my lessons start?”

“Now. Do you waltz?”

“Waltz? A little. Not much occasion to, but I can waltz with a good partner.”

“You’re in good hands. Trust me. Okay…”

He raises the TV volume, tosses the remote onto the couch, takes her hand, and they begin as the announcer sings:

🎶Take me out to the ballgame,

Take me out to the crowd…🎶

“Say! Not bad, young whippersnapper!”

“Thank you!”

🎶Buy me some peanuts and Cracker Jack…🎶

“Who taught you?”

“Daddy. And mama taught Sam.”

“Sam? Your brother Sam? Sam Wilson can waltz?”

🎶Root, root, root for the home team,

If they don’t win it’s a shame…🎶

“Oh, yeah! Social Dancing was definitely part of our Home Training. But not Soul Train dancing. I mean Fox Trot, Swing, and Waltz. Like your Mama taught you, our Mama and Daddy taught us…like you’re gonna teach Cass and AJ.”

“ You want me to teach them how to—“

“Mmm-hmm. You’re already teaching them baseball fundamentals. You can show them the basics steps, and they can practice leading with me.”

“I thought you wanted them to like me!”

“It’ll be fun! I promise.”

“Mind if I hold you to that?”

The song continues and the crowd on the TV sings as Sarah and Bucky find themselves slow dancing.

Whenever they dance past the AC unit, they linger, feeling the cool air as it hits the light veil of sweat that has settled on their skin.

It’s Southern Louisiana. In the Summer, it’s always there.

She grew up with it.

He’s gotten used to it and actually loves it because he’d had enough freezing in his life to never want to be cold again unless necessary.

She feels the back of Bucky’s left hand run down her shoulder, then his fingers slowly slide from just behind her ear, down the side of her throat.

The sensors in that hand know her skin intimately now.

He remembers the first time she took his hand, the first time he touched her arm, her cheek, her bottom lip…her…

He lightly kisses the side of her neck, her ear, while softly humming the song, pulling giggles from her. Her hands roam up and down his back, then gently kneading the muscles at the back of his neck, pulling a deep inhale and sigh from him.

🎶Buy me some peanuts and Cracker Jack…🎶

His mouth travels from to her cheek, then to her mouth.

🎶I don’t care if I ever come back.🎶

They get lost in the kiss, and when they finally do come back…

“Well, now. Tell me, Professor Barnes, do they still call a kiss like that getting to First Base?”

“I believe they do, Ms. Wilson.”

“I wonder if you can make it to Home Plate.”

“Not if I can, sweetness, but how many times I can.”

“Oh, really now,” she huffs, pulling away before he can go in for another scorching kiss, and heading toward the stairs.

He watches her ascend and when she looks back at him over her shoulder, she sees that “got an idea grin” he gets when he gets the kind of “ideas” that end up with them someplace at least semi-private for some quick “necking” as he’d call it.

“The truck windows are still down,” he grins. “I’ll be right up.“

As if on cue, the wind kicks up a bit, and then there’s the sound of rain beginning to fall.

{*ping*}

They both glance over at his phone on the end table, then at each other, and she starts to prepare herself for the words that’ll mean he has to get dressed, grab that ever-ready Backpack and board a QuinJet that’s miraculously showed up in the front yard.

(Dammit. Here it comes: “HQ called—blah blah blah. The boys and I are headed back home. Wheels up in 2 hours—blah blah blah. Sorry Buck.”)

Bucky goes over to the phone, picks it up, reads the message, and breathes a sigh of relief.

“It’s from Sam. He says: raining cats and dogs up here. Storm’s headed your way. Boys are knocked out and so am I. Crashing at safehouse. See you guys in the morning. Don’t get distracted and forget to roll up windows on that old truck, White Panther.”

“Distracted?!” Bucky says to his phone. “I don’t get distracted, Samuel!”

Sarah watches for a few seconds as he fusses at the phone, then she turns and continues heading up the stairs.

“Don’t take too long rolling up those windows, Lover,” she teases over her shoulder. “It’s the top of the 7th. Batter up.”

Part 2: Rounding the Bases will be posted on AO3.

* * * * * * * *

NOTES: Between WIPs and Work. I swear, Part 2 will drop before this week’s ending deadline. The version on AO3 will be tighter. And there might be a moodboard added here.

* * * * * * * * * *

SarahBucky Summer Prompt Fest 2023:

Week 1 - “Cookout” Wilson Cookout Playlist

Week 3 - “Cass & AJ Wilson” Formal Introduction

Week 5 - “Beat The Heat” 7th Inning Stretch

Thanks for reading!