#fleurdelouvemonth

[tllgrrl]

Fine Apples by @tllgrrl aka Nefertiri Jones

Fleur De Louve SarahBucky Month 2023

Week 2: “You've got leaves in your hair.” | Week 4: “Chilly mornings”, “Apple picking”, “Falling leaves”

Relationships: Sarah Wilson x James “Bucky” Barnes, Misty Knight x Sam Wilson | Rating: SFW

* * * * * * * * * *

“Not even a little bit?”

“Nope. Long as the barometric pressure is reasonable, I’m okay. I’m from here. Between that and the whole being on ice in Siberia thing, it just makes this feel like a typical Northeast Fall to me.”

“Huh. Well, I’m from the South. I wasn’t built for this climate.”

“But you are perfectly built—“

“I’m serious! I don’t think I’ve ever worn so many layers of clothes. Do you know what-all I’m wearing under your henley?”

“I sure do. I watched you get dressed. And watched…and watched…and watched—“

“James.”

“Now I’m looking forward to being back in the lodge, lighting the fireplace in our bedroom, and helping peel off all those layers of—“

“Boy?!”

She stopped walking, crossed her arms and pouted, waiting for Bucky to turn around.

Sarah knew it was going to be colder there than in Southern Louisiana, and she’d adjusted her wardrobe, but she still wasn’t prepared for the whole brisk-ness of an unusually chilly late Fall New England morning.

“You’re out here makin’ fun, and I’m being serious!”

“So’m I! I’m always serious, nandi. Ask your brother.”

Unbeknownst to her, while he was thinking about how he was going to unwrap her later, he was also keeping an eye out for a tree with the best trunk on which to discreetly carve both their initials.

”The tour part’s almost over. They’ll be handing out baskets soon and we can—” He reached back and felt nothing but space where Sarah had been almost behind him.

Turning around, he saw her as the breeze kicked up a bit, enough to slightly move her curls around and send a light shower of leaves falling on her.

Beyoncé, bathed in stage lights and standing in front of one of her ever-present wind machines, had nothing on who he was looking at right now, because even with a full-on pout and all bundled up for the chilly morning temperatures, Sarah was beautiful.

He jogged back to her, opened his jacket, took her hands and wrapped her arms around his waist.

“Come ‘ere, my delicate hothouse flower,” he cooed. “I’m sorry you’re cold.”

Then wrapping his arms around her, he pulled her into his body, shielding her from the chilly wind.

Pulling back a little to see her face, he looked into her eyes and asked, “Is this better?”

She looked thoughtful. “Maybe. Got any other ideas?”

Brushing aside all the other ideas that raced through his mind at that moment, he kissed her nose.

“Wow! Good thing the rest of you is covered. So tell me, sweetness. What can I do to warm up that nose? This?”

He kissed her forehead.

“You might be on to something, but shouldn’t we be getting back to the tour?”

“Tour?” he whispered into her ear, with a warm breath that definitely took a bit of the chill off. “What tour?”

His lips were warm on her left cheek, then her right.

“That’s real nice, lover. But, we came out here to pick some apples for the pies that—“

“How ‘bout this?”

He heard a little intake of breath, then gently kissed her mouth. Kissed her again. And again, over their smiles and giggles.

The next kiss had more heat, and a brisk wind caused the leaves to swirl around them while that kiss deepened and warmed them both.

“Moving along, now, over here we have the oldest section of the orchard—”

Hearing the voice of the tour guide, they reluctantly broke the kiss, and made a mad dash deeper into the orchard.

Going into White Wolf Mode, he stood them with her back against a tree, his body covering hers and holding absolutely still as the group passed by.

They were just about face to face, and she could see those blue-grey eyes do that thing the former sniper/assassin sometimes does when they’re in unfamiliar territory: a quick perimeter scan. She knew he was relaxed when he started to snicker, and she swatted his arm.

“Shhhh! Stop that!” she whispered. “We should get back to our group before somebody notices that you snuck off.”

“Me?!? I’m not exactly alone here.”

“I left because I was looking for you.”

“What?”

“That's my story, and I’m stickin’ to it, Bucky”

“Oh, Bucky, is it?” he softly growled, leaning in for another kiss.

“Hey! What are you two doing back here?”

Busted.

Looking over their shoulders they saw Sam and Misty peeking out from behind the tree a couple of rows away.

“Nothin’,” Bucky said, turning around and feigning absolute innocence. “Just…talkin’, ya know? Like people do.”

“Talkin’ about this nice apple tree here!” Sarah said, now behind him, patting the tree trunk. “Hey Misty, wasn’t that your and Sam’s tour group that just went by?”

“Well…we were looking for you two.”

“And we stopped to look at this amazing apple tree over here,” Sam added, trying to give the fish-eye to Bucky, who had the nerve to look extremely casual instead of like somebody who was:

[mackin’ on my little sister…in the middle of a damn apple orchard!]

Both couples look at each other, and burst out laughing.

“Uh-huh…”

“Whatever! And don’t try to use my excuse!”

“Alright. Enough messing around. We need to catch up so we can pick some apples for this pie contest Misty and I are gonna win tomorrow. We have a recipe we’re using that comes from a restaurant that was popular back during the Harlem Renaissance. When Grey Wolf there was just a pup.”

“Boy?! You are truly delusional if you think you're gonna win. I’m doing a pie based on Great-grandmama’s recipe, but using spices you can’t even get unless you have connections with a certain Royal Family. It’ll knock your socks off and blow your pie out of the water.”

“Zat so?” Sam almost guffawed.

“Bet yer ass, pal!” Bucky absolutely guffawed.

“Oh, we’ll see.”

“Sure will, Samuel.”

“Man, stop saying my name like that!”

“Like what, Samuel?”

“Oh, Lord,” Sarah looked over at Misty.

“Here we go,” Misty rolled her eyes and looked over at Sarah, shaking her head.

“Hold on. Come ‘ere…”

They both stopped, letting Sam and Bucky continue walking and yakking.

“You have some leaves in your hair. Let me…there.”

“Thanks! Lean down a little bit, with your tall self. Looks like you have some too. Got ‘em.”

“We good?”

“Fine, too!”

“Who you tellin’?”

Laughing and chatting, they caught up with the two jovially bickering superheroes, and the two couples hurried back to their tour group, debating about the desserts they were planning to make out of their pickings.

The pie contest ended up being a draw.

* * * * * * * * * *

Fine apple is 1930s slang for a attractive person. Could also be a confident, hardworking, successful person as well.

* * * * * * * * * *

Also posted HERE ON AO3.

[endlesstwanted]

The Candy Hunt

My entry for @fleurdelouvemonth day 1 — Halloween candy & @comfortember day 19 — Loved Ones.

Fandom: The Falcon and the Winter Soldier (TV)

Rating: General Audiences

Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Sarah Wilson

Tags: Candy, Family Fluff, Food as a Metaphor for Love, Domestic Fluff

Summary: Sarah and Bucky come back from a Halloween party in Delacroix to find AJ and Cass still awake from trick-or-treating with friends.

Wordcount: 1,3k

Also created for: @buckybarnesbingo — Nose kiss / @hurtcomfort-bingo — Doing Small Things for the Other / @lyricalescape — “20 candles, blow ’em out and open your eyes.” / @buckybarnesevents’ Build-a-Bucky-Bingo — Happily Ever After

Excerpt:

Sarah and Bucky were laughing when they parked in the garden, remembering one of the games they had played in the Halloween party and how badly it had gotten for Sam at some point.

It’s her who, before entering the house, noticed a flashlight moving in the kids’ bedroom. “They’re still up,” Sarah pointed out.

“Let me go talk to them while you get comfortable.” Bucky pulled her to a side hug, placing a kiss on her head before getting inside.

AJ and Cass had gone trick-or-treating with some friends from school, a couple kids their age whose parents had driven them to the house while the couple enjoyed some quality time together in a costume party in town.

Sarah and them had gotten to the agreement that once they arrived home, they should put on their pyjamas and avoid screen time, so they could relax and prepare for bedtime. Of course, she didn’t expect them to be sleeping already, but having the bedroom lights off and using just a flashlight revealed some shenanigans were being done.

Continue reading on Ao3!

[philtstone]

all else above (dreaming of the man i love)

for @sarifinasnightmare

this is my first time participating in a fic exchange! my apologies for the lateness of my submission; december was a crazy time. thank u so much to @fleurdelouve and @fleurdelouvemonth for organizing this <3 yall are the sweetest. and an additional thank u to the inimitable @foolgobi65 without whom this whole screwball venture would not have been possible

Summary: The eve before Christmas Eve, Captain America was set to speak at the United Nations building, it was blizzarding in Brooklyn, and Sarah Wilson nearly died by way of a giant wheel.

She didn't die, of course. She was very gallantly rescued by a man to whom she hadn't spoken in four months. All because she'd kissed him.

Or -- and this was really a pressing question for both of them -- had it been Bucky who kissed her?

The eve before Christmas Eve, Captain America was set to speak at the United Nations building. This was An Event insofar as he had not spoken at the United Nations building thus far in his tenure, nor had his predecessor ever done so. Indeed, Captain America — straight backed and kind faced to his admirers, overly stern and hypocritical to his naysayers — rarely elected to speak at such public political functions at all, either politely declining invitations to speak at various Whitehouse dinners, campaign rallies, and opposing newscaster debates, or cheerfully directing other invitations (memorably one extended by e-gossip column Popsugar) to his stone faced centarian partner, who reliably responded with some cross between a grunt, a glare, and a nonverbal fuck off.

This time, though, Sam had accepted. First of all, it was Christmas. Christmas was important – even over bloated and pathetically corporatized as it now was – which Sam held to be true because fifteen years later his mother’s solemn yearly adages still nagged him at the back of his head. Christmas was a time for do-gooding in the sincerest sense of the expression and Sam, regardless of what anyone else thought of him and despite his self-accepted and human flaws, strove to do good.

Secondly, he accepted because Sarah had said I think it’ll be good for everyone, and by everyone she meant Cass and AJ, because Cass had been acting out at school (there was an incident with a stink bomb in a teachers bathroom) and maybe hearing Captain America tell off some world leaders again on TV would inspire him to shape up.

In Manhattan, the snow was falling in genteel delicate flakes that fluttered and swirled and made the whole evening feel right. Brilliant holiday lights glittered and glimmered over everything and were not quite outshone by the neon and the billboards, in fact they nearly complimented each other. Cars honked in pile ups but Christmas music overroad angry yelling and more people than was usual helped each other across the street amidst the sudden slush. Three hours earlier the courtyard outside the United Nations building had gathered a hefty crowd, which was comprised of people diverse enough to herald fighting if anyone was in the mood to fight, which they were not; the anticipated address was too intriguing.

In Brooklyn, it was blizzarding. The Island had had its blizzard a good day before, and now the bad weather had migrated. Heavy winds picked up and rattled the windows of old Brownstones. Traffic lights encrusted over with ice, much to the serene acceptance of already-jaywalking pedestrians, outdoor fish markets had to shut down but were unconcerned with the quality of their fish as the temperatures were appropriately frozen, and out of the modernly-decorated windows of overpriced cafes selling charcoal infused concentrate of coffee instead of the real thing, one could barely see the street.  

All of this described the state of affairs at 7p.m. By seven thirty, the fucking Big Wheel was attacking New York.

Read more on Ao3

[tllgrrl]

Fleur De Louve SarahBucky Month 2023 | Week 3: AU, Day 4: Space

Quam Celerrime Ad Astra: Moodboard and Ficlet by @tllgrrl aka Nefertiri Jones.

The moodboard is new. The ficlet was posted/published in June of this year.

* * * * * * * * * *

Photo of Adepero Oduye from short film “Artemis Falls”.

Photo of Sebastian Stan from film “The Martian”.

Stills used for fanfic purposes only.

[endlesstwanted]

Picking Love

My entry for @fleurdelouvemonth day 22 prompt — Apple picking, inspired by this Stony drabble 🍎🥧

Fandom: The Falcon and the Winter Soldier (TV), Captain America (Movies)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Sarah Wilson, minor Steve/Tony

Tags: Modern: No Powers, Meet-Cute, Apples, Flirting

Summary: Tony takes Bucky to the farmers’ market as an excuse to meet with his new fling, but Bucky makes the best out of it with the idea to bake something for his sister’s birthday.

Wordcount: 2k

Also created for: @buckybarnesevents’ Build-a-Bucky-Bingo — Farmer’s market / @slumberpartybingo — Would you rather ... Cook dinner OR eat out / @multifandom-flash’s taboo bingo — Please Put Some Clothes On / @tonystarkbingo — Asking For Trouble / @buckybarnesbingo — Terrible choices / @lyricalescape — “Light the signal fire, proceed without hesitation.”

Excerpt:

“Okay, I gotta say I was definitely not expecting that,” the woman said.

“Why is that?” Bucky frowned, but he side-smiled too. “Is it my long hair or my cool tattoos, the one telling you I’ve never baked a thing in my life?” he joked.

“None of those, actually.” She laughed, and Bucky’s chest filled up with joy in knowing it was because of him. “Only said that because I rarely see people baking anything with fruit lately. Apple pies specially, they’re often bought from bakeries. I’m surprised, but in a good way.”

Continue reading on Ao3!

[justsomeoneunordinary]

The Wailing Winter Soldier

Week Two of the SarahBucky Month @fleurdelouvemonth/@fleurdelouve

Day three: Fantasy: Haunted House

(W1,D1 / W1,D2 / W2,D1 / W2,D4 / W2,D5 / W3,D2 / W3,D4 / W4,D3 / W4,D5 / W5,D1 / W5,D2 / W5,D4)

G, 520 words, Fantasy AU, Ghosts, Curses, Ambiguous/Open Ending | AO3

As far as Sarah can remember, the screaming had always been there. Those whines of desperation, the cries of agony.

It’s being said that it’s been going on for centuries like this. A house, deep down in the woods, haunted by an evil spirit. The howling would get worse around days of winter, and whenever she’d get closer to the forest, she could feel the heartbreaking misery of those cries. The townspeople call it the wails of the Winter Soldier.

Sarah had never seen the house herself. Never been allowed to approach the deepest parts of the woods, where the ominous omnipresent mist would greet her. Her parents used to say that certain death awaited her there. Sam though, her brother, he had been at the house—multiple times even. He never told her, but she knows.

It took her a while to notice that every now and then Sam would pack some food in a lunchbox and disappear for hours. Hours, during which the faint cries would find a sudden stop. Sam must’ve gotten to the same conclusion she has: nothing capable of such anguish screaming could be of evil nature. These are painful cries of someone suffering and in need of help.

But whenever she asks, Sam evades the question, and Sarah has had enough of it. She is no innocent child anymore in need of protection—it’s been over thirty years and she’s a grown woman capable of making her own decisions. So, on a cold November morning, she packs a lunchbox and heads out.

It’s a reckless action, she’s aware. She’s got two boys waiting for her to come back home, and no husband anymore who could take care of them should something happen. But Sarah is no fool—she wouldn’t do it if she wasn’t positive she’d come back safe and sound. Sam is a fighter, and Sam never looks like he’s been in a fight when he comes back from his trips to the house.

For the first time, Sarah steps foot into the deep ends of the woods and lets the mysterious mist engulf her. With every step she takes, the screaming gets louder, almost bone-crushing, causing shivers to run down her spine and having her hurting more and more for this poor pained soul.

Eventually, she reaches her destination and dares to enter the abandoned house with thrill and a healthy dose of fear pumping through her blood. When she finally gets to the attic, where the cries seem to be coming from, she learns three things right then and there, and none of them are what she expected:

For one, the Wailing Winter Soldier is no ghost or evil spirit. It’s a man. A man, bound to the house for eternal torture, cursed by no one else but the Clan of HYDRA.

For another, it’s not the man who’s screaming, but the house itself—expressing what the man is repressing.

Lastly, the man’s name is Bucky. And Bucky has the bluest eyes and kindest smile Sarah has ever seen, making her heart beat faster as if she was again a teen.

[pxresoxl]

For @fleurdelouve and @fleurdelouvemonth

SarahBuckyMonth2021 - MoodBoard

PROMPT : High School/College AU

Library Meet-Ups/Borrowed Sweater

(I haven’t made moodboards in quite sometime, so this one didn’t turn out to be all great 😅 sticking to just aesthetics seemed a bit tough for me)

(I also hope it’s fine to post today, considering it’s the 3rd day’s prompt, I couldn’t post it then)

[Edit : These pictures do not belong to me]

[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.

[samwpmarleau]

fic snippet: as foam upon the sea

meant for @fleurdelouvemonth but regrettably i don’t expect that the full fic will be done within the next two days and i’m already over a week behind the mermaid au prompt day this was supposed to be for (although elements of it apply to the days this week heyo), so i’m posting a piece from the middle of it to show that i participated. i haven’t written for either of these characters before so i really hope this isn’t trash, and if you notice logistical or geographical tomfoolery no you don’t

So abruptly she nearly knocks her head into his, Barnes stops. He searches the horizon — for what, she doesn’t know — his eyes narrowing beneath a growing frown. She treads water beside him, attempting to sense what he apparently does, but all she sees is what she doesn’t see. Just gently rippling blackness meeting an equally black sky broken up only by the pinpricks of starlight and the crescent moon high above.

“What is it?” she whispers.

He had said his arm could sense electro-whatever; maybe that’s happening now, maybe there’s a shark headed their way or something. Though, she doesn’t think Barnes would be quite so on edge if it were as mundane a thing as a shark. And that’s assuming a shark would even bother with them when it could have a much easier time finding different prey.

“I don’t know,” he murmurs. With a quiet shink, he withdraws a knife and hands it to her, then reaches for the boltgun strapped across his back.

She has about a dozen questions, but the tension and alertness rolling off him in waves keeps her from voicing any of them. She nervously adjusts and readjusts her grip on the knife, thoroughly unused to wielding such a utensil for any purpose besides cutting nets, cooking, or opening boxes.

Out of nowhere, Barnes snaps his head towards a specific point, no longer having a vague sense of danger. He shoves her roughly behind him, but not soon enough, and Sarah cries out as she feels a searing pain in her side. There’s still nothing above water that she can see; the shot had come from somewhere beneath. She feels another projectile whiz by, but it ricochets off Barnes’s metal arm before it can reach her. Which is where her perception of anything beneath her stops, for Barnes ducks beneath the water. There is nowhere nearby to retreat to, not even a piece of driftwood to use as a meager defense. All Sarah can do is float where she is, not draw further attention to herself, and try not to think about how much she’s bleeding from whatever laceration had been made.

She can’t tell whether it’s a minute or an hour that passes without a single indication of Barnes returning, which brings an entirely new fear to mind: whether he will return, and what it would mean for her if he doesn’t. If he’s been shot, if he’s been killed, if he’s been captured, at best she’ll be stranded in the middle of the ocean with an inventory of a single knife. Worse, HYDRA — and it must be them, of that she has no doubt — will kill her, too.

“You’re gonna be fine,” she tells herself, as if saying it aloud will make it true. “Everything is gonna be fine. This is just your typical aquatic assassination attempt, no problem.”

While it doesn’t lessen her pessimism much, it does at least help keep her focused on something other than sheer fear. She knows all too well how paralyzing fear can be, and that is the last thing she needs right now.

Shutting her eyes, she starts to hum a lullaby Titi used to sing. She can’t remember the words anymore, but she remembers the tune.

She gets a few verses in when she jerks back with a shriek, brandishing her knife at the movement she feels by her feet.

“Watch it!” hisses the movement, whose voice she identifies as Barnes. Wisely, he plucks the knife from her hand and returns it to its sheath.

“What happened?” she asks, hit with a waterfall of relief. She wishes she could see more than vague silhouettes. “That was HYDRA?”

“Yeah,” Barnes says, “They must’ve used some kind of heat signature tracking. Or maybe they caught sight of me back at the beach and dispatched divers to the area they thought I’d go. I don’t think they know exactly where, or they’d have sent more than a few guys armed with spearguns.”

That had to have been what she was grazed with, then, a speargun arrow. She can’t say she’s ever had that before, though she knows it happens back home every now and then, usually to stupid kids not paying attention to what they’re doing.

Of course, she’s fairly certain none of those stupid kids were shot by HYDRA spearguns. She gets the dubious honor of being the first.

“So what now? Are there going to be more where they came from? Do they have beacons or something they could’ve activated?”

“Likely,” Barnes says. He refastens her rope to himself. “We have to go. Once HYDRA notices their divers aren’t moving from this spot, they’ll come. With reinforcements.”

Great.

“So how are we supposed to get out of here?”

“I’ll have to dive.”

“Not all of us can hold their breath for as long as you can. How do you expect me to —”

“I don’t have time to explain.”

“Explain what?”

Barnes answers by cupping her face in his hands and kissing her full on the mouth. Before she can ask him what the hell he thinks he’s doing or push him off her, she feels an odd, though not unpleasant, tingling in her lips. A warm burn slides its way into her lungs, as though she’s taken a swig from high-shelf whiskey.

The burn lingers as Barnes drags her beneath the surface of the water. Only then does he pull away, leaving her to panic at the sensation of having no air left in her lungs. That is, until she realizes that she doesn’t need to breathe. As Barnes swims away, the rope connecting them keeping her at pace, Sarah does her best to get her bearings.

Regrettably, for all that she seems to have temporarily acquired Barnes’s breathing ability, that hasn’t affected her eyesight or cognitive processing — she can make out some shapes, but for the most part everything they pass is a complete blur.

Once she gets over the novelty of the breathing part, the unnerving part of being along for the ride settles in. She hadn’t thought much about mermaid locomotion, but if she had, she doesn’t think she’d have banked on them being able to swim this fast. Not that she has a speedometer, but she’s sat seatbelt-less in the bed of a truck barreling down the freeway plenty of times, and this feels much the same. Only more wet. Needless to say, she grips the harness like her life depends on it — which, really, it does.

She also wishes that that kiss — or whatever it was — from Barnes helped with temperature as well, for while it doesn’t seem like they’re going deeper anymore, she’s fucking cold. Solely the fear of being tracked by an evil organization keeps her from tapping Barnes on the shoulder and asking if they could possibly swim a few dozen meters higher.

She puts up with it, knowing the alternative is tempting lethal fate. After a while, she nearly manages to fall asleep, such is her adrenaline crash and the steady fluidity of Barnes’s movements. She’s groggy when finally they stop, some sort of partially enclosed outcrop whose features she can just make out in the burgeoning sunrise. Barnes sets her on the rock and triple-checks both the entrance and surroundings.

Unfortunately, she discovers, the end feels much like the beginning, complete with the sensation of having no air even though now there is plenty of it. Is it possible to suffocate when there’s air to be had? Did Barnes merely delay her death sentence?

Apparently hearing her distress, he approaches with mild concern in his expression amongst the usual cagey neutrality, but his voice is calm as he instructs, “Force it. The air, you have to force it.”

The thought feels impossible. “I — can’t —”

“You can.” He places his hands lightly on her shoulders. “Breathe, Sarah.”

It’s the first time he’s said her name, she realizes, which all by itself is nearly enough to startle her out of her predicament. The touching takes care of the rest; up until now, their only contact has been of necessity, not comfort or even friendliness.

It’s a shaky breath that she draws into her lungs but a breath nonetheless, and once she’s done it, she gulps down as much as she possibly can. The pain in her chest slowly dissipates.

“Are you okay?” Barnes asks.

“Yeah I — I think so. Did you know it was that awful to come out of it?”

“No. I’ve never been around for that part.”

Now that she no longer is suffocating and they’re out of imminent danger, she wonders about the mechanics of the whole thing. “How’d you do it?”

“Something to do with the regenerative properties of the serum, it slows hypoxia. That’s what I was told, anyway.”

“Then why did it feel like I couldn’t breathe?”

“Because,” he says, “if you hold it too long, your body wants to keep the air it has left. It doesn’t realize it doesn’t have to until you force it.”

“That was too long?” she asks. “How long did we swim?”

“Bit over two hours, I think.”

“Two —”

He’d told her he could dive for an hour and a half, two hours maybe. And while with his enhanced strength she must not weigh much, she still weighs something. She takes stock of him, seeing only now that he looks exhausted, his own breath coming in heavier than normal. Never mind the exertion from fighting the combatants and what looks like a nasty gash over his eye dripping blood down the side of his face. He doesn’t appear bothered by it, but she’s been around him enough by this point to know he’s not the kind of person to admit to injury. Who knows what else he might’ve sustained?

Ultimately, she supposes the specifics of it all don’t matter and, frankly, she doesn’t have the patience for any more of a science lesson at the moment. Barnes himself may not even know the full scope. Really, she should celebrate the fact that he’s spoken more to her in the last two minutes than he has the last few days combined.

“So, how’d you figure it out, this breath-sharing thing?” she asks instead. “Got a history of saving damsels in distress, do you?”

She’d meant it as a joke, but a shadow passes over Barnes’s face. “No.”

“Then how —”

“Let me see where you were hit,” he interrupts. “You’re bleeding pretty badly.”

She looks down to see a wide bloom of red is indeed staining her shirt. The pain has become more of a throbbing nuisance than the acute sharpness it was before, though she’s not sure whether that’s a good or bad thing.

Sarah lifts up the hem of her shirt, and immediately wishes she hadn’t. It looks much worse than she thought it would. It still counts as a graze, she’d say, in the grand scheme of things, but an inch further and she’d have a hole straight through her abdomen.

“Seawater is healing,” she says with feeble confidence. It is, but she’s fairly certain this is too big of a wound for that to apply to.

“Stay here,” Barnes directs. “I’ll be back soon.”

He’s gone before she can ask where he’s going, disappearing under the water as quietly as always. She lets out a sigh. One of these days she’s going to make him give her an explanation before darting off.

[hearts-are-connected]

Another moodboard. I kind of like putting these together.

This is meant to represent @fleurdelouvemonth and @fleurdelouve, Week Two: Hurt/Comfort

I know it doesn’t match any of the sub-genres for the main theme, but I’m a sucker for hurt and comfort.

[endlesstwanted]

Somewhere Else To Meet

My entry for @fleurdelouvemonth day 18 prompt — Med School/Doctors AU, inspired by a few scenes from Chicago Med  🩷

Fandom: The Falcon and the Winter Soldier (TV)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Characters: Sarah Wilson, Bucky Barnes, Original Female Characters, Joaquín Torres

Tags: Hospital AU, Developing Relationship, References to Illness, Comfort

Summary: Sarah and Bucky meet after their shift and share their days with one another.

Wordcount: ~700

Also created for: @halloweenhorrorbingo — Renting Horror Movies / @hurtcomfort-bingo — Falling Asleep After a Rough Day / @lyricalescape — free space

Excerpt:

“AJ and Cass are staying over at their uncle’s tonight,” she mentioned with a side smile.

Bucky smiled back at her, but like the idiot in love he truly was. “Are you asking me on a date, Doctor Wilson?” he teased.

“I am indeed, Doctor Barnes” Sarah smiled and kissed him one more time.

Continue reading on Ao3!

[justsomeoneunordinary]

Autumn in New York

Week Five of the SarahBucky Month @fleurdelouvemonth/@fleurdelouve

Day One: Canon-compliant: Autumn in New York

(W1,D1 / W1,D2 / W2,D1 / W2,D3 / W2,D4 / W2,D5 / W3,D2 / W3,D4 / W4,D3 / W4,D5 / W5,D2 / W5,D4)

[pxresoxl]

For @fleurdelouve and @fleurdelouvemonth

SarahBuckyMonth2021 - Moodboard

PROMPT : Genre-Palooza

Day 1 - Fluff - Baking together

[tllgrrl]

Winter Shortbread Parts 1 & 2 by @tllgrrl aka Nefertiri Jones

Fleurdelouve SarahBucky Month 2023 | Week 3, Day 3 - College Professors AU/Coffeeshop AU | Sarah Wilson x James “Bucky” Barnes and a few OCs | Rating: SFW

* * * * * * * * * *

Sarah Wilson and James “Bucky” Barnes both are college professors.

He teaches Political Science and Labor Law on one side of the sprawling campus. On the other side, she teaches Mechanical Engineering and she’s also a Faculty Advisor for a study group in African-American Literature with an emphasis on Black Women authors.

People never guess the two of them are Professors because the misconception is that “Professor” means Old White Man.

Without fail, at the beginning of the school year, some undergrad who didn’t know, would try to flirt, thinking maybe she was one of them until they found out that she was actually one of their teachers.

“Well,” her friends would laugh, “you know what they say!”

“Yeah girl. Even we can’t tell how old we really are!”

Once she wore a head wrap, which sparked a rumor that she was West African royalty studying in America. Even when she was wearing an LSU t-shirt and jeans, many people agreed.

And him? Fellow members of the Law Faculty call him “Professor GQ”.

“How can someone who looks like that be serious?” one of them grumbles, watching him walk across the campus mall.

“Yeah! He’s just wearing jeans, a t-shirt, motorcycle boots and a sport jacket. A sport jacket! Who looks hot in a sport jacket?!”

“Professor Barnes,” Professor Daniels drawled, then proceeded to drain her water bottle after he walked by.

(Gulping down his water, Dr. Trudeau agreed.)

***

Part 1–Going Up

Sarah hurried up the steps to the relatively new building, impressed by its modern nod to the original architecture, and the original stained glass that was installed in a window at the top of the entrance, but she didn’t have time to admire the design.

She’d taught at the school for 4 years but this was the first time she’d been in this building. She never really had a reason to be there. Her stomping grounds were on the other side of the campus.

The signage indicated that the elevators were to the left, and as she headed down the hallway her phone started to ring.

It was her BFF, Eartha.

“Hey, girl! What’s up? Waitaminute—

Hi! Hold the elevator!! Just a—no! No!! Just a second! Please wait! Please?? Oh, shhhhoot!”

Eartha heard what sounded like papers rustling, and her friend using her Professional Indoor Voice.

“Damn. What an asshole—I mean—jerk. He wouldn’t even hold the elevator.”

[“What?? For real?!”]

“I was right there! I had to pick up a couple of pages that slid out of my folder.”

[“Another one with no home training. Child, men these days. Hold on. What are you wearing?”]

“What am I—? Jeans, Docs, blazer. Fake Pearls. The latest rags from the Underpaid Professor Autumn 2025 Lookbook. Nothing special. Why?”

[“Girl, shut up. You even look runway and red carpet in jeans and work boots, but…are you wearing one of those t-shirts?”]

“What? What t-shirts?”

[“You know what I'm talking about.”]

“I’m wearing my List of Black Women Authors tee.”

[“Hm. Okay, but you know why I asked, don’t you.”]

“I Ain’t Thinkin ‘Bout You is a song lyric! Not a sign saying don’t hold the elevator for me, I’m good, sir.”

[“Yeah, you and the Beehive know that.”]

“That’s right. Blame a sister’s clothes!” she giggled. “ I’m not trying to send Hey! I’m available messages with my t-shirts…like you.”

[“What?! Stop lyin’! I’m juicy is a song lyric, too!”]

They both laugh as Sarah noticed the elevator approaching her floor.

“Let me go. The elevator’s coming and I need to put my student brain on for this class I’m auditing.”

[“Okay. I just called to let you know that I had a cancellation and I can fit you in for Saturday morning if you’re still interested?”]

“Yes! Put me in! I need to get these braids taken out. The end of the year’s coming and I’m ready for a New Year, New Me cut.”

[“Well, okay, now!! I’ll see you Saturday morning. And I’m going to want to hear if the professor is hot.”]

“Girl, Bye!!” she laughs, ending the call and tossing her phone into her purse.

*ding* “Ground floor,” a soft voice says as the next elevator door opens.

She stepped inside and the door was almost completely closed before she hears—

“HOLD ON! Ow! Please? Ow!”

She throws her hand between the doors, breaks the beam just in time, and a man slides in.

“Thanks.”

“No problem.”

She’s seen him before, at the coffee shop not far from campus. He’s usually near the front of the line as she’s arriving.

Tall. Taller than her. Once, he turned to leave the counter with his order, and she saw his eyes. Grey. Like overcast skies. He’d seen her too and it looked like he wanted to stop, then his phone rang, and hers did too.

She wasn’t trying to stare, but as he walked past she noticed his build, and his smooth sort of loping gait.

And like her, he seemed to have a penchant for interesting t-shirts.

It became a sort of habit for both of them to look for each other when they stopped by the coffee shop on the way to campus during the week. Just to see what t-shirt the other one was wearing, of course.

(At least that’s what they told themselves.)

And now, he was standing there in the elevator, juggling his backpack and gingerly holding a to-go cup from Congo Square Coffeehouse and Bakery, where she usually stops on the way to work.

He’s got the cup in his right hand, and is trying to negotiate the left bag strap so he can slip the hot drink into his gloved left hand as quickly as possible because there’s no protective sleeve on the cup.

“Here…” she offers, reaching over, taking the cup, placing it on her palm, and holding it around the rim of the cap. “Let me take that while you get your…bag…”

“Oh! Hey, thanks! Be careful. It’s hot.”

“No, I got it. I do this a lot.”

He slipped the backpack securely onto his shoulder.

“Thanks, again,” he grinned an apology . “Just a second…I know I have a…”

He patted his jacket, quickly reached into a pocket, and with a small flourish pulled out a coffee cup sleeve.

“I prob’ly have a couple down in the bottom of my backpack, too, but I was kinda in a hurry tryna make it ta class on time.”

(Sounds like a local, but a little too fast for a yat. What’s this Yankee doing down here? I wonder if he’s in the class I’m taking…)

He takes the cup and slips the sleeve onto it. “Got it. My hand an’ I both thank you.”

He’d seen her before at Congo Square Coffeehouse, the unofficial campus coffeeshop that’s a few blocks from the university.

He was intrigued from the first time he saw her: tall, almost his height. Something regal about her high cheekbones, the beautiful eyes.

And, like him, she liked to wear interesting t-shirts.

He’s usually almost next in line by the time she’s walking into the shop, and he’d thought of keeping an eye out for her next time. Maybe offer to let her cut in front of him. Maybe start a conversation.

{Who’m I kidding? She probably wouldn’t want to—}

Now, here she is in the same elevator, keeping him from receiving what surely would be a serious coffee injury.

{She really is beautiful. Don’t stare.}

“You’re welcome. If you don’t mind, I have a question. I…don’t mean to pry, and you really don’t have to answer…”

“Okay…” he chuckled, mentally steeling himself. He also slipped the now shielded cup into his right hand and habitually lowered his gloved hand while at the same time was keenly listening to and enjoying her soft Southern Louisiana accent.

“I just wanted to know… are you from around here or from New York?”

“Am I…oh! Yeah! New York. Brooklyn, actually. I thought you were going to…was it the t-shirt that gave me away?”

“No. The accent. Your t-shirt, however…”

Well, now she had an excuse to actually look at his chest, which she was trying so hard not to stare at ever since he got onto the elevator.

“Dodgers,” he smiled, pulling a side of his jacket open with his freehand, giving her a better view.

“Oh…my…” she whispered, as she noticed how the t-shirt was fitted just enough to where she could tell that there was a sculpted chest and abs under the fabric. She also saw the outline of what looked like military dog tags.

Then she snapped out of it.

“I mean, right! Of course! L.A. Dodgers!”

(Sarah! Act like you have some decorum up in here. Damn!)

“Brooklyn Dodgers. They were from Brooklyn, first. Moved out West in 1957, before the ‘58 season.”

“Won the World Series again the next year, 1959.”

“Well…yeah. How did you—?“

“Larry Sherry pitched them into that win," she said. “Got the MVP.”

“You…do you like baseball?”

“Kind of a fan. My grandfather and my Daddy were big fans, so I grew up watching with them.”

“Really? Who’s your team?”

“The Giants. San Francisco.”

“Rats.”

“What?”

“I guess I can’t ask you if you’d like to grab a coffee sometime. Well…grab another coffee that is,” his mouth quirking into a sideways grin that made her spend too much time looking at his lips. “Or maybe…I don’t know…dinner.”

“Yeah, no,” she sighed, shaking her head. “I can’t be seen out and about with a—“

“Oh, I completely understand—“

“Dodger fan.”

She smiled, and his heart did a flip that hadnothing to do with caffeine.

“Yeah…” his mile-wide smile answering hers, “…the scandal.”

{Marry me.}

*ding* “Ground floor.”

“What?” they both said in unison, staring at the elevator operating panel.

“I forgot to push the button,” he said sheepishly.

“Looks like I did too.”

“And now I’m officially late for my class.”

“You still have time. I’m sure the professor won’t mind—“

“I’m the professor,” he shrugged.

“Oh! Well…good thing you’re fine. I mean, you’re good then! I, on the other hand, am officially late for a class I’m auditing.

“Don’t worry. You’re fine, too. I mean, I’ll vouch for you. I’m Professor Barnes. James Barnes.

If I might ask, what’s the class?”

“Labor Law. Taught by—um—“

She looks at the piece of paper on top of her folder, then looks back at him.

It doesn’t seem possible that his smile got wider, but it did.

“I’ll be glad to write you a note…with…my phone number.”

“Well. Pleased to meet you, Professor Barnes. I’m Professor Wilson. Sarah Wilson.”

When they shake hands, neither is in a hurry to let go.

“Professor Wilson? You teach…here?”

“I’m usually on the other side of campus.”

“I’m always over here. What’s your field?”

“Engineering. Right now I’m teaching classes on Ethics as it relates to Mechanical Engineering. Yes, that’s a class.”

“Pleased to make your acquaintance, Professor Wilson. You can call me James.

I hope you don’t mind if I sit in on one of your classes.”

“Any time, James. And you can call me Sarah.”

“Sarah…”

*ding* “Fifth floor. Please watch your step.”

* * * * *

Part 2 - Order Up!

***2 weeks later, Saturday morning***

It’s Big Game Day at the university, and driving past the shop, she could tell by the crowd out front waiting to get in that it was already slammed.

“They just opened an hour ago. It’s gonna be a long weekend,” she said to herself.

She pulled into the parking space behind the shop, grabbed her purse and hastily walked in through the employees entrance of Congo Square Coffee.

“Hey-hey!”

“Good morning!”

“There she is! How’re you doin’, Babygirl?”

“I’m good, Titi Bernie! You?”

The older woman gives her a hug and kiss on the cheek.

“Busy and happy to be here! Let me look at you! Haven’t seen you in months. You look good, Sarah. I just hope you’re not running yourself ragged, teaching and running a business.”

“I’m making it work, Titi. Don’t worry. I’m doing fine. And thanks for coming in before the game. I know you want to get together with your sorors.”

“Don’t worry about that. They’ll be there when I get there. I worked here enough years to know how it is on Game Day. I’d’ve been mad if you didn’t call me!” They hug again, and for a second Sarah thinks about her Mama, Titi Bernice’s sister.

“Now, let me get out there. These children are ‘bout to be overwhelmed.” Her face beams as she heads out to the front counter. “Charles?”

“Yes, ma’am!”

“Check the tables, would you, baby? I see some people leaving.”

“Sure will!”!

Sarah looks out into the shop and sees that all the tables are occupied, some people are waiting for tables to free up, the line is almost out the door, and the mood is a party with almost everybody wearing some combination of purple, gold and black.

The aromas of brewing coffee and fresh-baked goods, and the sound of the espresso machine, coffee grinder, the bustling crew, customers chatting (some even singing along with the playlist) make for a festive atmosphere. And the music mix of NOLA Jazz, Neo-Soul, and uptempo Blues is invigorating and soothing. Familiar.

Sounds and smells she grew up on, from infancy to teens to now adulthood.

She puts her bag in the desk drawer, grabs her apron off of the chair, ties it on and looks up at the photo over the door.

It’s Mama and Daddy, taken on the opening day of the shop.

Under that photo is a framed $5 bill, and under that bill is an old Polaroid picture of a fishing boat with the names “Paul and Darlene” on the side.

“Hey, Mama. Hey, Daddy. Ansamn toujou.”

She takes a breath. In for 3 seconds, out for 4. Opens the door, and it's on:

“I need some shortbread cookies, please,” a voice calls from the front counter.

“On the way!” she answers, and pulls a tray of fresh cookies off the rack. She carefully arranges them on a clean plate and carries them out to the display case.

“Hey, y’all! Dee, fresh shortbread on deck!”

She hears applause from some of the customers and it makes her happy.

“One Americano and a decaf latte, please! Thanks, Sar!”

“Americano and decaf latte, coming up! Ayyyy, Sarah! Sak pase?”

“Ale byen, Bobby! Hi Char, here’s the shortbread. How’s it going? Oh! Hi, ma’am. May I help you? 3 of these? Good choice! I love these! I’ll bag them and get them to Dee, she’ll take your coffee order and ring you up. Thanks!”

“You see this?” Charlotta nods at the crowd. She’s petite, light brown-skin with green eyes and a shock of purple hair, dyed especially for Game Day.

“It’s been like this since we opened the doors this morning! By the way, the new cookies are running out the door. You have another hit. Maybe we should make them year ‘round.”

“Really. Huh. I’ll think about it. Depends on how reliable the source is for the ginger. It’s from a small farm in South Af—“

“Coffee to-go, order up! Hey, Prof! Can you—?”

“Got it!” She takes the cup to the pick-up window, reads the name and calls out, “Bucky? Bucky, your order’s ready!”

She turns back to Char for the next order and catches her cutting her eyes over at Roberto, who’s making another coffee order.

The both of them are snickering.

“Yo, Bobby. You see this one?” Char tilts her head to Sarah.

“You know I do, Char.”

“What? Did y’all just prank me with that name? Oh, come on! Bucky? Is this what we’re doing today?”

“You know him? That blue-eyed, tall drink o’water over there.”

“Because he’s lookin’ at you like knows you. Or maybe wants to.”

They both laughed. Out loud now.

“What? Who are you two talking about?”

Char and Bobby, eyebrows raised, are looking at her, then over her shoulder past her, so she turns back to the pick-up counter, and there’s Professor Barnes. He gives her a little 3 finger wave like he’s happy to see her and hopes she feels the same way about seeing him. He can see by her smile that she is.

She takes a napkin, places a couple of shortbread cookies on it, glares at her two friends, and softly says “He teaches a law class I’m taking. I’ll only be a minute. Konpòte ‘w, okay? Behave yourselves.”

Then she fixes her face, and walks back to the pick-up counter.

“This is a nice surprise. Welcome back to Congo Square Coffeehouse, Professor Barnes. You’re not usually here on Saturdays.”

“Good morning, Professor Wilson. Yeah, this really is a pleasant surprise. I’m meeting some friends over at the stadium for the game. I’m early so I…let’s just say I’m now adding a cuppa the best coffee I’ve ever had to my post-Saturday morning run routine.

By the way,” he holds up the cup, “I’m Bucky. Kind of a nickname people know me by. But like I said, you can call me by my given name. James.”

She realizes that she missed seeing his name on the cup when they were in the elevator, because of the little cardboard shield.

“Really. Well…I’m glad you like what we have to offer enough to keep coming back.

We roast and grind our own coffee beans, and our baked goods come from my Mama’s and Grandmama’s recipes that I put my own spin on.”

{Brains, beauty, baseball, and baking? Am I dreaming?}

She placed the napkin holding the cookies on the lid of his coffee cup.

“A lagniappe. Our newest treat. I call it Winter Shortbread. I hope you like it. By the way, why do you want me to call you James?”

“I like the way you say it.”

* * * * * * * * * *

Glossary - Haitian Creole

Sak pase? What’s up?

Ale byen. Going well.

Ansamn, toujou Together, always

Konpòte ‘w Behave yourselves.

Louisiana French

lagniappe a little something extra or for free.

* * * * * * * * * *

1) Working Title

2) There’s possibly a moodboard/graphic/thing for this later.

3) Last, but never least: A thousand Thanks for reading my nonsense!

* * * * * * * * * *

Posted over on The AO3 as Winter Shortbread.

[gghalcyon]

Bucky Barnes gets a bewitching Halloween treat when Sarah Wilson appears at his doorstep, her face lit up with a brilliant smile. “Trick r’ treat!” she said as their eyes met in a heated gaze.

Title: A Taste So Sweet | Bucky Barnes x Sarah Wilson | Fandom: The Falcon and the Winter Soldier | Rating: Mature | Words: Part 1/1 (2328 Words) | Prompt: SarahBucky @fleurdelouvemonth and @fleurdelouve - Week 1, Day 1 Prompt: “Halloween Candy”

Bucky watched in disbelief as group after group of children and teens dressed up as monsters, superheroes, witches, and fairies trooped past his house. He had initially been excited about joining in the festivities surrounding Halloween. Still, he was now feeling overwhelmed at the sheer number of trick-or-treaters that kept anxiously jostling at his front door.

He could hear Sam's voice ringing in his head, telling him to stock up on treats ahead of the evening's activities. On impulse, Bucky had gone to the store and purchased enough candy to fill an entire cauldron - more than enough for the small army of costumed kids parading up his walkway.

After living in New York City for a few years, he was unaccustomed to experiencing Halloween like this. New Orleans' proximity meant that Halloween was taken very seriously here. His neighbors went all out with scary decorations, and some even hosted light shows or static haunts in their garages.

It was the first time Bucky had experienced Halloween in his new neighborhood, and he could feel the excitement from both children and adults alike. He walked into the living room to look at the clock – it was 7 p.m.; he had a few more hours before kids would be done trick-or-treating. After making sure he had enough candy to last until 9 p.m., he set out a sizeable pumpkin-shaped bucket full of treats on a table near the entrance of his door, which he'd grab and provide the little ghouls and goblins who would come by.

One by one, groups of costumed children started arriving at Bucky's house. There were toddlers with their parents, gaggles of elementary schoolers, and even a few high schoolers. Bucky watched them all take turns selecting handfuls of candy from the white bucket he'd set out on the porch. He couldn't help feeling a pang of regret that he'd bought so much candy – but then again, it was worth it just to see how delighted they were.

The most recent group of trick-treaters waved him goodbye as they ran off to his neighbor's house to continue their journey for more candy. Just as he was about to close the door, he spotted a familiar face walking up the sidewalk towards him. It was Sarah, Sam's sister, donning a classic black witch's hat over her long hair and wearing a playful smirk on her face. Their eyes met.

Sarah stood before Bucky, her face lit up with a brilliant smile. “Trick r’ treat!” she said.

He was temporarily stunned by her beauty before composing himself.

"Hey! What are you supposed to be? Aren’t you old for trick-or-treating?" He joked, looking at her costume and wondering why she had come to his neighborhood.

"I'm old enough, thank you very much," She chuckled teasingly, sticking her tongue out playfully. Bucky noticed that Sarah was alone and asked about her boys AJ and Cass.

"Oh, I just dropped them off at a friend's place a few blocks away from here," She answered, grinning shyly as she revealed her true purpose: to visit him. "They're all trick-or-treating together, so I thought I'd swing by and see you."

Bucky felt his heart swell with warmth as he imagined her thinking of him. It was like a dream come true. He opened the door wider to welcome her in, and when she entered, they both erupted into laughter at the sight of all the candy bags he had bought.

"Okay, that's SO much candy! The kids will love you!" Sarah said, still stifling giggles.

"I'm trying to get rid of them," he said sheepishly as he directed her to the bowl on the entry table near the door.

Sarah laughed again at his over-preparedness before following Bucky to his kitchen, where he opened the fridge and asked if she wanted any refreshments.

"I have beer, apple cider, sparkling water..." She accepted his offer enthusiastically with a look of admiration.

"Oh, apple cider would be amazing!"

He twisted open an apple cider for her and handed it across the counter while opening himself a bottle of beer. Bucky could hear children's voices from outside, but there were no trick-or-treaters yet who had arrived and rang his doorbell. There was a small lull before another surge of trick-or-treaters came.

The two caught up so naturally. Bucky could feel an ease in their conversation as Sarah shared stories about her two boys deciding to be Sherlock Holmes and one a t-rex for Halloween. They even talked about the best costumes they've seen so far, reminiscing about their childhood trick-or-treating experiences.

As the night wore on, Bucky found himself completely entranced by Sarah's infectious laughter and sparkling eyes. They moved to the living room couch, sitting side by side in close proximity. He couldn't help but lean in closer to her as she spoke, wanting to absorb every word she said like a sponge.

Suddenly, they were interrupted by the sound of the doorbell ringing. Bucky glanced at his watch and noticed it was getting pretty late - it must have been close to 10 pm already.

"Let me get that," he said quickly, feeling the familiar pang of disappointment when he realized their intimate conversation had come to an end. He stood up and took his bowl of candy before opening the door.

"Trick-or-treat!" A group of four kids dressed as Pokemon with their parents dressed as a Pokemon Trainer greeted him. Bucky smiled warmly and spoke kindly to the little elementary school kids, nodding in approval at their costumes and giving them generous amounts of candy.

Sarah peered over the couch to watch Bucky interact with the children and felt her heart swell with admiration. More and more trick-or-treaters kept coming until it seemed like the line would never end. At one point, Sarah decided to join Bucky in front of the doorway, giving out candy alongside him from a bag she took off the counter.

The line continued for a solid fifteen minutes until another lull came forth and no new trick-or-treaters came by. Bucky closed the door and joined Sarah on the couch as they both flopped down in exhaustion.

"Tiring, huh?" Sarah asked with twinkling eyes as she settled into the spot beside him.

Bucky gave her a sheepish smile and ran his fingers through his disheveled hair. "It feels like it never ends…" He paused and added with a hint of mischief in his voice, "But I don't mind it too much when I have a beautiful woman by my side."

"I..." she was almost taken aback by his forwardness, then her smile widened, revealing small dimples along the sides of her mouth. "You could always just leave the bowl outside and just let them take whatever they want."

"You think that'll work?" His heart raced as he moved closer to her on the couch.

"I think so," she said, her voice low and sultry as she scooted close to him. She grabbed the bowl of candy and rummaged through it.

"Looking for something specific?" he asked her, amused.

"Hmmm... I'm looking for a Hershey's chocolate bar, the white chocolate one." Bucky watched her closely, admiring how graceful her long fingers were as they searched through the bowl.

"There should be a ton there, not many kids picked them when I let them select which candies to get." Her eyes sparkled as she looked up at him, and he felt drawn into her gaze.

"Are you kidding? They're so picky nowadays, huh?" They laughed together, and the room seemed to heat up exponentially with each passing second.

"Ah! I found one! I couldn't pass up all this free candy," Sarah teased as she pulled out a mini white chocolate bar. As she unwrapped it and took a small nibble, Bucky found himself mesmerized by those lush lips and the way they moved around the confection.

"Want a bite?" Sarah asked, catching his gaze and holding out the candy. She slowly bit the bottom of her lip before smiling at him innocently, but there was something else about her expression - an invitation - that made Bucky's stomach flip. He had been wanting to kiss those lips since he'd first seen them curve into that mischievous grin earlier tonight.

Heart pounding, Bucky's gaze slowly moved from Sarah's lips to her eyes. He leaned in, and instead of taking the offered candy, he brushed his lips against hers. They both gasped at the sudden contact, and as if this was a sign, their kiss deepened.

Sarah tasted like chocolate and felt so soft under his fingers as they explored each other's faces and bodies. His hands moved to her hips and pulled her closer until their bodies were flush against each other. Their tongues collided in a passionate dance of desire that left them both breathless when they finally pulled apart.

"That was..." Sarah whispered, trailing off with a sigh.

"Amazing," Bucky finished for her. The air was electric between them, heavy with unspoken longing that neither of them wanted to break.

Suddenly, the doorbell rang again and they jumped apart as if electrocuted, laughter bubbling out of them before they remembered why they were there. As Bucky went to answer the door, his mind was still on the kiss he had shared with Sarah moments ago.

As the night went on and more trick-r-treaters arrived and departed, the couple found themselves alone on the couch, close but not touching. Finally, Bucky spoke up. "Sarah, I know we've been friends only for a short time, but tonight...that kiss...I can't stop thinking about it." Sarah smiled at him from under her eyelashes, and he could see the same desire reflected in her eyes that he was feeling in his own heart. Without another word, their lips met again and this time it was slow and tender - like two puzzle pieces coming together after searching for so long.

Sarah gently pulled away from Bucky and pressed her body against his, her arms wrapping around his neck as though she never wanted to let go. "Bucky... I've always wanted to do this with you," she said softly.

As her lips met him, a spark of electricity coursed through her body. She felt the warmth radiating from his chest and the gentle beat of his heart as she pressed herself closer into him. The kiss grew more passionate with each passing moment, and Sarah felt an intense desire building inside of her.

She reached up to grasp Bucky's face in her hands and trace the outline of it with her fingertips. His long, wavy hair was so soft against her skin that she wanted to keep touching it forever. He repositioned them both on the couch, so she was straddling him with her legs on either side of his thighs.

Sarah could feel Bucky's excitement pressing into her, and his hands moved up under her shirt to explore the warmth of her skin. She gasped at his touch and dug her fingers into his back, wanting this moment to never end.

Suddenly, Bucky pulled away and looked deep into her eyes. In a voice full of longing he whispered "Sarah – I want you" and at that moment, all doubts fled from Sarah's mind - she knew this is what she wanted too.

Without another word, she pressed her lips against his once more and this time they were both overcome with passion. Bucky grabbed her hips and pressed her close to him, their bodies melting together as his fingers ran up her back before unfastening her bra, revealing her creamy skin beneath the moonlight that filtered through the window. She held her breath as his hands moved across her body, exploring every curve with delicate touches and sending sparks of pleasure through her veins. He left trails of fire over her neck as his lips traveled down before lightly brushing over one nipple, eliciting a soft gasp from Sarah's lips.

Just then, Sarah's phone started ringing, and the sound of it shattered the silence in the room like a gunshot. She wanted to ignore it, but she knew it was likely her sons calling to let her know they'd be ready to be picked up soon. With a reluctant groan, she pulled away from Bucky and grabbed her phone, which stopped ringing before she could answer it.

A quick glance confirmed it was indeed her kids, and a text message from her kid's friend's mom indicated that they were done trick-or-treating and ready to be picked up. "I don't wanna go," Sarah said with a sigh.

Bucky wrapped his strong arms around her, giving her a sad smile and planting a kiss on her forehead. His breath tickled her skin as he whispered gently, "Me neither," in response to her words, then attempted to lighten the mood with a joke about their unusual entourage. They both laughed, and Sarah could feel the tension melting like ice in the sun.

Bucky pulled her close and nuzzled against her neck, sending tingles of pleasure down her spine before she reluctantly leaned back from his embrace. She looked into his eyes and saw something that made her heart skip a beat – it was longing, familiar and yet fresh and new at the same time. Locked in each other's gaze, Sarah raised herself to capture Bucky's lips in a soft kiss.

She smiled as she pulled away from him and started gathering her clothes off the floor, nerves suddenly bubbling up inside of her when Sarah realized how bold she had been. Before she could put on her shirt, however, Bucky stood up and stopped her with a gentle hand on her arm. He cupped her face tenderly between his hands and searched for something in her eyes.

"We'll have to finish this later," he murmured softly. Another shiver coursed through Sarah's body as she looked into his beautiful blue eyes, nodding in agreement to his suggestion before leaning forward to give him one last kiss goodbye.

Read More Stories @ Fanfiction Master List or G.G. Halcyon's AO3

[rebellconquerer]

My @fleurdelouvemonth little fic for week 5 day 3: parental feels.

She finds him on one of the many balconies that wrap around the medical wing of the palace. An expected hiding spot, after all, he's been seeking refuge on the high ground for as long as she has known him.

He sits in one of the small chairs hidden near the end of the balcony, long legs stretched out in front of him as the golden light of the Wakandan sunset bathes him in it's warm glow, highlighting the shades of brown in his typically dark hair and making the metal of the arm gleam. He looks resplendent, peaceful in a way she's never seen, completely at ease with the world and it's all due to the precious cargo tucked safely into the crook of his prosthetic arm.

Bucky stares at his daughter like she's the most awe inspiring creation he's ever seen. His eyes trace her sleeping features, his hand adjusting and then readjusting the blanket she is swaddled in, all while a stunned smile curves his lips.

She can't help her own answering smile. Seeing him like this is a gift. It reminds her of how her husband looked at T'Challa when he was first born and that thought, as beautiful as it is, still hurts all these many years later.

She clears her throat lightly and is pleased when he looks up at her a little taken aback. Her smile widens. It is rare to sneak up on the White Wolf.

"I thought I might find you here, Mahlubandile." She says softly, careful not to wake the sleeping infant in his arms.

He grins at her, toothily, artlessly, as his eyes are drawn back to the little miracle he holds.

"Sarah finally fell asleep," he replies softly. "She started to fuss a bit so I took her for a walk. Wanted to let Sarah rest."

Ramonda hums thoughtfully, coming to stand at his side, staring down at the little girl. She rests comfortably in her father's arms, skin the colour of rich honey in the warm light of the setting sun. A dark mop of downy soft hair peeks out of the little cap that covers her head.

She yawns, making a disgruntled face as she starts to fuss again but Bucky quickly readjusts her in his arm, rocking and soothing her gently for a moment, and she settles.

"You seem very comfortable with a baby in your arms" Ramonda observes, her hand reaching out to stroke along the soft material of the cradle cap.

"I'm the oldest of 4, remember? Time was you'd be as likely to find me with Ruth in my hands as often as anything else." He replies easily, eyes still glued to the baby. She nods, pursing her lips. They all tend to forget he's had not one, but two lives before he was brought to them.

Bucky rocks his daughter gently and her eyes open to stare solemnly up at him, coaxing another stunned smile from him.

Ramonda recognizes how improbable this outcome was. As impossible as the love story between Sarah and Bucky seems, the likelihood of Bucky and his daughter was even lower.

She wasn't there when Shuri broke the news to him that whatever was done to him had changed him on the genetic level of every cell in his body, which meant that any children he had would carry at least some of his super serum given abilities. She doesn't know what his conversation with Sarah was like after that particular blow up, but she can't imagine it was easy on either of them.

That Sarah was pregnant could not have been hidden, but that Bucky is the biological father has been kept tightly under wraps, the world led to believe that a donor was used. It's a lie that was as heartbreaking as it was necessary to ensure the safety of the child, so threatened by the world's continued obsession with the super serum.

There had already been an assumption that the serum could not be passed on genetically or else left the super soldiers sterile, a theory helped along by the fact that Steve Rogers seemingly had no children despite the long years of his marriage.

Ramonda scoffs at that thought. Like the basis of every marriage was children or, equally as possible, like Steve Rogers did not excel at keeping secrets hidden.

Ramonda refocuses on the here and now, letting the intrigue that seems to be innate to the lives of superheroes fall to the wayside, and allowing the miracle of this little life to wash over her for a while longer.

"Where is the rest of your brood?" Ramonda asks, still smiling down at the infant.

"Sam and AJ went back to the apartment to grab some sleep and some food. Shuri had stopped by earlier so I'm sure Cass is following her around."

Ramonda smirks. "Crush still going strong?"

"Seems to be," Bucky shrugs.

The child yawns again, the move crinkling her nose cutely.

"May I hold her?" Ramonda finds herself asking.

"Yeah, yeah of course." Bucky says easily, as they navigate getting the baby from his hands to hers.

By the time they are done, the blanket has shifted, freeing the child's hands. Ramonda rocks her gently, walking toward the edge of the balcony, beneath which the beauty of her country lies outstretched. She strokes the soft skin of the baby's cheek and feels her heart swell. She can't help that some part of her feels a little like a grandmother to this new life, and she's so very happy they have made it here.

"Pop? Are you here?" A familiar voice floats out to the balcony.

"Yeah, Cass, out here. I thought you were with Shuri." Bucky says, as Cass rounds the corner. He has shot up over the last 6 months and now stands near Ramonda's own height, much to her chagrin. He ambles over to his father, sitting on the arm of the chair and draping himself over Bucky's shoulder, limbs awkward and coltish in the way of those still growing.

Bucky reaches up and strokes the boy's head distractedly.

"I got bored." He mutters.

Bucky laughs, looking at him askance. "She kicked you out, huh?"

Cass grumbles in response, pushing himself off of his father, and wanders over to her. He tucks himself against her side, peeking over her shoulder. Ramonda glances over at him as he smiles softly down at his sister.

"What do you think?" She whispers to him.

Cass brings a finger up to his sister's small hand and grins widely as her little fist curls tightly around it.

"She'll do," he proclaims cheekily, earning a startled laugh from Bucky.

Ramonda smiles softly, eyes pulled back down to the baby girl. It seems only fitting as queen that she introduce her properly to Wakanda. She moves even closer to the edge of the balcony until all she can see is the majesty of Wakanda spread out beneath her and dips her head down until she touches the child's forehead, an old traditional greeting in her tribe. When she pulls back the child's dark eyes are open again and seem focussed on her, almost like she is listening. Almost like she is waiting.

"Wamkelekile emhlabeni, mncinci." Ramonda starts. "Ngu Wakanda lo. Unebhongo kwaye womelele kwaye ukhaliphile, njengawe. Ilizwe lam, uya kukukhusela kwaye akukhokele ukuba unokubuza kuphela. Ulinda ngovuyo ukuba akubulise."

The child blinks sleepily up at her and Ramonda can't hold in the small laugh that bubbles out of her. It has been so long since something this good has happened and with all her losses, she had almost forgotten that such joy still existed in her future. So, she lets her heart both grow and settle as she reminds both herself and the babe that their path lies ahead of them yet.

"For you, Babalwa, she waits."

Xhosa translations:

Mahlubandile: the clan has increased by one

Welcome to the world, little one. This is Wakanda. She is proud and strong and brave, just like you. My country, she will protect and guide you if only you ask. She waits happily to greet you.

Babalwa: blessed with grace