#moodboard by tllgrrl

[tllgrrl]

“We’re the ones who live…” — Michonne Grimes

[sarahandbucky]

hi, folks! it’s time to announce the first week’s theme!

❄️snowed in❄️

⛄️runs dec 1-7, 2021

⛄️drabbles, multi-chapter fics, playlists, moodboards, art etc welcome

⛄️AUs welcome!

⛄️please tag any adult content with all relevant warnings

⛄️asks and submissions open and strongly encouraged!

⛄️ imagine i came up with a classy way to say "don't write underage or non-con content pls"

tagging, with no pressure:

@indyluckycharlie

@tllgrrl

@sarifinasnightmare

@aahrtyeah

@atiena-m

@darter-blue

@kalee60

@btwxsixesandsevens

@jemgirl86

[tllgrrl]

The Favor by @tllgrrl aka Nefertiri Jones

Sam touched the biometric pad on the case, and heard three soft clicks.

[“I called in a favor from the Wakandans.”]

The last time he was in Wakanda, he was on a battlefield just outside Birnin Zana: The Golden City.

He and his friends were fighting to save…everybody…everywhere…but before the battle he’d gotten a glimpse of the Blackest nation he’d ever seen.

A nation that had never been touched by colonization.

Sam also saw technology he’d thought only existed in Sci-fi movies and books…or maybe in Tokyo…but even more advanced than that.

T’Challa introduced him to General Okoye, leader of the elite Royal Guard known as the Dora Milaje.

Sam was also briefly reunited with Steve’s friend Bucky Barnes, who Steve had taken to Wakanda to see if they had the technological wherewithal to remove HYDRA’s super-assassin programming from his brain.

Apparently they did, they were successful, and two years later, there he was. With what looked to be a brand new arm, Bucky was joining the Wakandans and the Avengers in the fight against Thanos and his forces.

And Sam met T’Challa’s younger sister, Princess Shuri. A Black, teenage, African Princess tech genius who, with her team of scientists, doctors and engineers, freed the brain of mildly annoying, staring, grumpy supersoldier Barnes, who is now his “co-worker”.

(… and who is also now trying to aim those blue eyes of his at my baby sister!)

Shuri was also responsible for, among other things, developing the newest versions of T’Challa’s Vibranium-infused, nanotech, fighting suit.

[“I called in a favor from the Wakandans.”]

Sam thought about that battle. How it ended with half the universe, including him and Bucky, turning to ashes one minute, then waking up the next minute…

5 years later.

Like a film clip, images started speeding through his mind: Things he’d experienced, people he’d met, places he’d been from the moment he met Steve Rogers—as they both were doing their morning run around the reflecting pool at the Washington Monument in DC—to now.

All of that…ending up here, back in the house he grew up in, staring at this fancy, high-tech case.

[“I called in a favor from the Wakandans.” ]

(I’m actually gonna do…this.)

He opened the case and took a breath to steady himself.

There was a schematic on the inside of the case’s lid, and what almost looked like some kind of hieroglyphs. Sam couldn’t decipher it, but he immediately knew where it was from.

He lifted the piece of handwoven fabric that seemed to serve two purposes: beauty and function, as he could see metallic threads woven throughout the rich, surprisingly dense protective cloth.

The fabric had Vibranium woven into it, and under it there were three items:

A wing pack like his broken StarkTech one, but lighter in weight. By feel he immediately knew that these wings, like his shield, were made of virtually unbreakable Vibranium.

A neckpiece that was similar to the one he saw T’Challa wear, but not nearly as large, also far less traditional and ceremonial in design.

And inside a pouch made of the same fabric as the protective cloth, was a beautifully carved wooden box holding a bead bracelet like the kind worn by nearly everyone in Wakanda.

He also found a large envelope containing some official-looking paperwork, and a manual for the items in the case.

On the front of the envelope were Wakandan glyphs, and underneath them it read:

Samuel Wilson - Captain America

He read the opening paragraph of the manual, slipped the bead bracelet (called kimoyo) onto his left wrist as instructed…and shortly felt the beads lightly vibrate as his cellphone rang…

* * * * * * * * * *

Fan Fiction and Fan Art Submitted for the @samsseptember Samtember 2024: Day 3 -Costume, Day 19 - Wakanda. I honestly don’t know where this falls. It’s kind of about the costume but it is more about where and who it is from.

Happy Birthday Sam Wilson!

[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]

Out West by @btwxsixesandsevens

Sarah Wilson/James “Bucky” Barnes, with Steve Rogers and Sam Wilson

Summary: Begins as a dream, then in Chapter 2 the actual story, back then, 1880s California.

Fictional town. Fictional past.

Everything turned just a little...

* * * * * * * * * *

[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]

Relationship: Sarah Wilson / James “Bucky” Barnes

Summary: It’s not that she didn’t trust the doctors at HQ. And he understood that.

Sarah and Bucky have post-mission Protocols? Procedures?

Rituals.

The Checkup is one of them.

It’s not just for him.

* * * * * * * * * *

He knew the drill.

He knew that she had to check, with her own eyes and hands.

Super soldier serum didn’t matter. She wanted—needed—to make sure he was okay, and take stock of where he’d been injured, because even though wounds healed quickly, they had still been painful to receive. Pain that lasted for just a few minutes, still hurt.

Sometimes he ached from injuries received decades before she was born.

“May I?”

He took her hand, kissed her palm, placed it over his heart, and looked into the deep brown eyes he’d never not want to come home to.

“Yes. Always.”

The light was bright enough where she could now see that there was a slight puffiness on the right side of his upper lip. Same thing above his right eyebrow.

High on his left cheek was the remains of what she knew had been a cut. Most likely from a fist.

And that little worry/scowl line between his eyes was back.

It had actually started to smooth a bit now that, instead of being in the field with Sam and Team Cap for every mission, he remotely ran Ops for the team from his office or occasionally Avengers Tower, and he held Training Sessions at facilities on the Air Force base not far from New Orleans, courtesy of Col. James Rhodes aka War Machine.

Now, that worry/scowl line was back and she wondered if the mission, though relatively short, hadn’t gone without a hitch.

Completely opening the robe, she looked at his chest, pressed her lips together and held in a “tsk” at the sight of the close-to-being-healed but still ugly yellowish bruise on his left side covering his ribs.

He’d tell her later if any of those ribs had been fractured. Had there actually been any that were broken, the team’s medic would’ve kept an eye on him for a few hours to make sure he didn’t move around unnecessarily or leave too soon and accidentally puncture a lung on the way home.

(He still hasn’t told her about the one time when he did puncture a lung on his way back home. It wasn’t pretty.)

She lifted the robe off of his shoulders, and though she was fully aware that there’d be no damage to the virtually indestructible Vibranium prosthetic, she always made sure to also examine his left arm and shoulder, giving it attention.

It, after all, was part of him, too.

The plates softly shifted and flattened in anticipation of her hands, and she applied pressure to his forearm and bicep so the sensors—so he—could register her touch. She held his left hand and squeezed.

Looking down at her hand holding his, he then took her hand, gently squeezed back and interlaced his fingers with hers.

“You don’t have to do that, you know.” An almost apologetic smile played on his lips.

She put his left palm in the middle of her chest, and placed her hand on top of it.

“Do you feel this?”

He looked up at her. “You know I…I do…”

“That’s why I have to do that.”

(Bast yam, ndiyamthanda lomfazi!)

There were fading scratches over the left side of his throat and neck, and bruising that looked like he’d been grabbed.

She managed not to swear or tear up at the thought that someone…or something...had maybe tried to grab him by the throat…

She gently touched the scars on the skin where the Vibranium met flesh. Where the Wakandan medical techs did the best they could to repair the damage done by uncaring HYDRA “physicians”.

And she kissed the area near the middle of his chest where she knew he’d feel it.

The caught breath that she heard told her he did.

Moving over to his right arm she found fading bruises and scratches covering his bicep, extending from his shoulder down almost to the crook of his inner arm.

(Is that…a bite??)

She shook her head involuntarily, not meaning for him to see her do that…but he did.

“You said come back safe,” he chuckled. “Not unscath—“

“Hush…” she said softly.

Checking his head, she found that his hair was still slightly damp from the shower he’d apparently taken when he got back.

He’d used one of the downstairs Guest Baths because though he wanted to wake her, he didn’t want to wake her too early. This was, after all, supposed to be their vacation.

Her fingers in his hair, on his scalp, caused him to close his eyes and lean into her as he cupped her breast, softly whispering, “So good to be home, Intanda…”

“Alright now,” she gently chided crawling around to behind him, gently batting his grabby hands off of her, “….you and your foolery.”

The whine that came out of him was so ridiculously dramatic that it made her giggle, until she saw the purple and yellow bruises on his back from his shoulder to his waist.

He heard the short, sharp, gasp. “What did they—? James…” She sighed. She could only imagine what these bruises looked like a few hours ago.

He felt her lips, then her warm hand between his shoulders at the top of his spine.

His own sigh answered hers.

She felt the familiar muscles, that old scar on his shoulder blade from a knife wound he received while they were testing early versions of the serum on him, and she found a more recent cut higher up across the back of his right arm. It would be completely smooth, gone without a trace, by dinner.

As her hand then continued down the middle of his back, at one spot she felt him lightly push back into her hand and she heard a soft, whispered “…ah…”

Looking down further, she saw other fading bruises, scrapes and minor cuts that were a few hours away from disappearing.

At least there were no new stab or gunshot wounds, as far as she knew or could tell. Not this time.

This time his injuries were relatively minor. Minor for him.

* * * * * * * * * *

Glossary

Bast yam, ndiyamthanda lomfazi! My God, I love this woman!

* * * * * * * * * *

April Showers Bring Foolery and Shenanigans: The Vacation Edition is HERE on AO3.

The “illustrated” original version on Tumblr starts HERE.

[tllgrrl]

* * * * * * * *

Bucky rinsed as much mud off of himself as he could while standing in the backyard, then he stripped on the back porch before he entered the house.

When he saw Sarah standing in the kitchen laughing at his predicament and enjoying the view, he threw his wet clothes on top of the washer, chased her up the stairs, caught her on the landing, and pulled her into the bathroom.

Afterwards, she went through his sopping wet clothes and fished out his wallet, keys, a small notebook and pencil, a smooth river stone with an adrinka carved on it, and a piece of paper, folded several times.

She laid everything out on a towel on the kitchen counter, and unfolded the piece of paper, gently smoothing it out to dry.

It was something printed. A receipt? A list?

A poem.

And did you get what you wanted from this life, even so?

I did.

And what did you want?

To call myself beloved, to feel myself

beloved on the earth.

“Late Fragment” — Raymond Carver, 1988

* * * * * * * * * *

I never would’ve thought I’d see a favoured poem featured anywhere in the MCU, yet there it was in episode 4, “Beloved”, of Secret Invasion.

As a result, this happened.

Now, back to my not-so-fluffy WIP I go.

[tllgrrl]

Formal Introduction by @tllgrrl aka Nefertiri Jones

@sarahbuckybingo 2023 Summer Prompt Fest - Week 3: Bucky Barnes & Cass and AJ Wilson

(Note: Originally posted 19 July 2023. Accidentally deleted and reposted 30 July due to Pilot Error. Apologies and Thanks to everyone who Liked/Reblogged the original post.)

* * * * * * * * * *

Cassius Casper Wilson’s vault isn’t old and fragile like many in the old cemetary, but on his birthday, when Sarah and their two sons visit, they still lovingly tend to it to make sure it looks nice. They bring the old red Radio Flyer—formerly Sam’s and Sarah’s now belonging to Cass and AJ—loaded with brooms, brushes, cleaning rags, and a couple of spray bottles of water, along with flowers, sun hats and a small ice chest of cold soft drinks.

On the way there, Cass and AJ tell Bucky about how graves are above ground in New Orleans, that there are famous people buried in the city—including “a real pirate”—and they tell him about some of the special customs people do at graves. Sarah elaborates on those.

Initially, the man formerly known as the “Winter Soldier” had some trepidations about being in the midst of so much death, after decades of he himself being the cause of so many deaths, but before they all left for the cemetery, he placed a brown paper bag containing a few special items into the red wagon that the boys took turns pulling to the gravesite.

He was at a cemetery in New Orleans with Sarah and her sons, because the boys asked him to come with them.

* * * * * * * * * *

Two weeks earlier, sitting at his desk, going over some maps and blueprints for Team Cap’s upcoming mission, he could hear them coming up the stairs talking.

He couldn’t help the smile that started in his chest.

He knew they were heading up to the attic because they didn’t slow down at the landing to go to their room. After a few seconds of excited whispering, two small fists knocked on his door, so he closed his laptop and turned his chair to face the door.

“Yes?”

“Can we come in?” Cass spoke first. “We have something important to ask you.”

“But we can ask you later if you’re doing a Uncle Cap computer meeting!” AJ offered.

“Hey! Come on in, fellas!”

They tumbled into his room, and rushing over to his desk, immediately began their pitch:

“Daddy’s birthday—“

“It’s next Saturday, and—“

“Nuh-uh! Next Saturday is Free Comic Book Day!”

“Oh yeah! Daddy’s birthday is Saturday after next!”

“And we go visit him. Mama and us.”

“And we tell him about stuff like school—“

“—and Little League, and books I been reading and—“

“Mathletes and Star Wars!”

“And we want you to come too this time.”

“Because you and Mama are all going steadily!” AJ says to Bucky like it’s still kind of a secret.

“Ah…going steadily, huh?” Bucky leaned back in his chair, nodded thoughtfully, and through the window, he heard the squeak of the screen door below, Sarah softly singing to herself as she walked down the porch steps, turned on the spigot and pulled the water hose over to the vegetable garden.

“AJ!” Cass dramatically ran one hand down his face, then leaned over and whispered into his little brother's ear.

“I mean going steady,” the young boy said, crossing his arms and mirroring Bucky’s thoughtful nod.

“So…do you want to come? Mama says you might not want to, and we understand if you don’t, but…”

Bucky sat up, rested a hand on each knee and gathered his thoughts before he spoke because the last thing he wanted to do was disappoint them.

“Listen. I know visiting your father on his birthday is a special thing you do. You and Mom. Are you sure you guys want—”

“Heck yeah we do!” Cass insists.

“We have to introduce you to him. You’re family now. You’re our Bucky!”

Looking at their faces, he sees their mom, and their father, who he’s seen photos of. He even sees a hint of Sam, along with his and Sarah’s parents Paul and Darlene Wilson.

He sees the family that he’s somehow now a part of, and he thinks about his own family: his Pa, Ma, and his sister Rebecca, all now long gone.

(You’re family now. You’re our Bucky.)

The boys saw him look down at his now clasped hands. One flesh and blood, warm. The other one metal and wires and…

They’ve seen him think like this before, and for a few seconds they’re sure he might not want to come with them just yet. Then he looked up at them, placed one hand on Cass’s shoulder, and the other hand on AJ’s.

“Cass, AJ, I would be honored to be introduced to your father. Thanks for inviting me.”

“Yesss!!!” The boys high-fived each other, and fist pounded the youngish old man sitting in front of them.

“We gotta go tell mama!! Thanks Uncle Bucky!!”

“Any time, fellas!”

He sat and listened as the small tornado of boys rushed down the stairs.

“Goin’ steadily…” he mused, not trying to keep the grin from turning into a full-out smile.

A few minutes later, in the middle of writing about extraction logistics and post-mission debriefing, he looked up from his notes, stood, walked over to the window, and looked down at the boys and Sarah across the yard, in the garden.

Narrowing his focus, he could hear them.

“Mama! Guess what?”

“He said yes!!”

“Oh, really?” She smiled, adjusting Cass’ askew glasses. “He did?”

“YES!!” the boys say in unison.

She gathered her sons into her arms, kissing them on the tops of their heads. Then she looked up at the attic window. He knows she can’t really see him from there, but he could read her lips as she mouthed “Thank you.”

He went back to his desk, picked up his phone, pressed a button, spoke, and after a few rings…

“Hey, Sam. Yeah, fine. We’re all fine. You? Good to hear.

Well…yes. I am happy. What? I’m not grumpy all the time, Samuel.

Listen. You got a minute? I have a few questions about Cass’s and AJ’s father, and about traditions.”

* * * * * * * * * *

Also posted HERE on The AO3.

* * * * * * * * * *

::ICYMI::

@sarahbuckybingo Summer Prompt Fest

Week 1 - July 1-7 Prompt: Cookout

[tllgrrl]

AHOY, LANDLUBBERS!

Talk Like a Pirate Day 2024 is here again!

With this reblog, I added a little bit of fan art I made for the series.

Thanks for reading!

Talk Like A Pirate Day 2022

Avast ye!

I will be writing the Paul & Darlene ship’s log for Sarah Wilson, and @btwxsixesandsevens will be writing Bucky Barnes’ journal entries.

All I can say is, Heave Ho and make sure your hatches are battened….

The Paul & Darlene’s Ship Log - Sarah Wilson, Captain

19 September, the Year of our Lord, 1722

Dropped anchor off the coast of Hispañola.

Several of the crew went ashore to pick up provisions and supplies for the last leg of the voyage home to the port of New Orleans.

This campaign was a success as this time we lost no hands to illness, sport, or in battle. With spoils so rich we’ll all be able to be with our families through Hurricane Season and none of us will suffer.

The loas were kind and generous to me, my crew, and my children. The idea of any of us making orphans of our babes doesn’t sit well on my heart, but this is our chosen way.

My late husband’s parents are still alive and spry, and willing to look after their grandchildren while I’m away. That they refuse my offer of payment, preferring I set it aside to purchase land for the boys’ future, is a kindness I won’t forget.

Along with the latest scuttlebutt from other ships, the quartermaster returned with a sealed message that The Shield was recently in port and is on the same route back to New Orleans that we are.

The Shield is Captain Samuel Wilson’s ship, and their main mission is to find and arrest pirates.

For months, one of their targets has been the Paul & Darlene, her crew, and me.

We’d spent a good month careening the ship, and now even loaded with supplies, provisions and the booty from this recent run, ours is still one of the fastest brigantines sailing the sea.

Definitely faster than a Royal Navy frigate.

The quartermaster also reports hearing that The Shield picked up a civilian passenger. A former officer in the Royal Navy, a friend of the Captain, and who is also on his way to the port of New Orleans.

By the time they weighed anchor, we had the wind at our backs and were making good time for a rendezvous.

We knew they’d spotted us when the lookout reported seeing what appeared to be the battle ensign hanging from the Shield’s mainmast.

Seems the Captain is spoiling for a fight, still feeling sensitive because the last time we met, unbeknownst to him, when we made our escape, along with his ship’s wheel, we took one of their crew with us:

Idris. The cook.

~~~~Sarah Wilson, Captain

Sarah’s Ship Log: Entry 2 / Entry 3 / Entry 4

Also on AO3.

* * * *

Bucky’s Journal: Entry 1 / Entry 2 / Entry 3 / Entry 4 over on @btwxsixesandsevens blog.

* * * *

Dividers from @firefly-graphics .

************************

[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]

Distance by @btwxsixesandsevens

Ayo/Aneka | 500 words

Here’s the plot:

I love a girl and no one dies.

* * *

She’s usually far away.

They’ve known each other since they entered training. Despite the familiarity of sisterhood, Ayo always felt far away. Aneka saw her as impeccable. Untouchable. Black Jade-carved. A warrior’s heart sealed in stone.

That wasn’t how Ayo saw it. She was just herself, the version of herself that would one day hold the highest rank a Dora Milaje could. That’s what she wanted. What she held in her mind when she was the first one to the training grounds. What kept her awake studying into the night.

Ayo knew Aneka. She’d noticed that the other woman paused and smiled at her more frequently than not. It was simply a thing that happened.

One day, their training leader called Ayo aside, scolding her for neglecting her studies.

“My studies Captain?”

“These are your sisters, you are a member of an endless legacy. Yet you barely speak to them.”

“To what end?”

“To become one. Study them as diligently as you study the French. Learn to fit together. We don’t do this to become dead inside, littler sister, but to live our fullest life.”

After that, Ayo accepted Aneka’s invitation to spar in the mornings.

Their friendship grew. Aneka didn’t dare to make it other than that. It never occurred to Ayo that she could.

Ayo climbed the ranks. Aneka’s rebellious streak limited her options. They were friends. As sisters, they could never be anything else.

Everything changed when the King went West to the Ancestral Plane.

T’Challa died in his bed. Not of old age, Of an ancient disease even Wakanda could not eradicate. There was nothing they could have protected him from. In the space he left, there was no one to blame.

One night, Ayo and Aneka found themselves musing at what their mission was now. They and their sisters would protect the royal family, but without a Black Panther, what were they, those who held the eternal title Beloveds of the Black Panther? Who loved them back?

They mourned. Aneka watched the stone in Ayo’s heart crack and into the opening where the light came out, she slid her hand. Aneka was surprised when Ayo grabbed it and pulled her close.

They continued on, secret lovers as well as friends. They took their assignments. Aneka became less interested in following orders. Ayo became more attached to rites and rituals. It tore them apart when Okoye was expelled from the order and Aneka followed her mentor into exile.

Aneka went to her mother’s home on the riverside, sure that this time, the distance could not be closed. But it was. After the devastation of Namor, Ayo, now General Ayo, came to her door, left her spear in the hallway. There was no distance too great.

Now they sit overlooking the water, knowing it is not as safe as it once seemed. Still they are together, hands locked tight against whatever change comes next.

* * * * * * * * * *

Distance by Sixes and Sevens is also on The AO3.

[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

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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]

Sarah Wilson Appreciation.

Excerpts from Sarah Bucky Headcanons, Part 4 —

“For Sarah, Just Sarah” by @btwxsixesandsevens

(moodboard by @tllgrrl)

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Sarah knows she’s pretty. She’s got rich dark skin, thick hair, eyes like jewels. If she’s wearing yellow or white, any guy who likes dark-skinned women will stop and have something to say. Brothers who don’t like dark…well, that’s their loss. She’s got some ways to turn a man’s head, but it isn’t like that’s that difficult a thing to do.

All this together means she’s not actually that surprised by Bucky’s attention at the beginning. She sees what they have in common and knows she has a way of cocking her hip that makes men lose their vowels for a second. Plus she can cook. Yeah, men want to come around.

It isn’t the first look that surprises her. Or even the second one. It is the third look.

It is the dancing, respectful but all the hotter for it. The fact that he always asks her if she needs something when he goes into the kitchen. It is the way he drops his eyes like he’s bowing to her. It is the way he listens to her, even when she’s not saying anything important. It is the way he compliments her, gracious and sincere: “My God, Kitten, you look stunning.”

She’s not vain but, Lord Above, if she could hear that every day for the rest of her life she’d be okay.

[tllgrrl]

it’s morning now by @philtstone

Bucky Barnes, Sam Wilson, Sarah Wilson, Steve Rogers, Ayo, Cass & AJ Wilson, and Special Guest: Earl the Alligator

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The package arrives wrapped innocuously in brown paper. It’s the kind of brown paper that used to go around fancy packages rich housewives would get their husbands from Bloomingdale’s back in the day, but after almost a century of variations on a plastic theme has somehow now become ubiquitous. The postage says Care of Captain America and Bucky can’t help but say yeah, sure, he supposes he is currently more or less in Captain America’s care.

“And I suppose Captain America makes the shrimp and grits you both love so much,” Sarah says, as all three of them stare down at the small square object on the kitchen table together.

“I make shrimp and grits fine,” Sam says, not looking away.

“Sarah’s are better,” Bucky tells him, also unmoving. He drops his eyes to the small cardstock note in his hand. It smells like fancy cologne, which is, on principle, aggravating. He reads the note out loud because he is only just now realizing he forgot to do that, earlier.

“Dear James.”

“I’m gonna kill Zemo,” Sam says.

“As I’ve decided you deserve a long and happy life, I thought it only just that its fate be your decision.”

“Seriously,” Sam insists. “His head, down a toilet. I got pull now, they’ll have to let me into the Raft –”

“All my best, etc,” Bucky continues.

“The man is in prison. How’d he do this from prison?”

“And there’s, um, no signature,” Bucky finishes.

He feels kind of like his mouth is full of cotton.

Or maybe his head.

They go back to staring at the table.

Continue Reading

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Dealing with a Relic from what seems like a lifetime (or two…or three) ago.

Another wonderful fic from @philtstone.

[tllgrrl]

No Avengers. Just two people with nothing in common. Or so they think.

Heart Beat: a SarahBucky AU - Preview

Vampire!Cardiologist!Sarah Wilson / Vampire!James Bucky Barnes

I remember the feeling,

My hands in your hair, hands in your hair.

Feel your heartbeat, heart beat

Right next to me…

—“Heartbeat” by King Crimson (Belew, Fripp, Levin, Bruford)

**********

SARAH

The cellphone alarm rang on the nearby chair.

Sarah reached over from the chaise, tapped the screen, sat up and removed her eye mask.

She picked up the phone, checked her messages and was instantly relieved to find none for the past 25 minutes, so she stood, stretched, walked over to the window and opened the blinds, grateful that she could have 5 more minutes of relative peace.

She took the carafe out of the mini-fridge behind her desk, and put it in the microwave that was hidden in a credenza.

As her drink warmed, she quickly stepped into her clogs, looked in the mirror inside of the little wardrobe she’d had installed in her office, and made sure she didn’t look rumpled from the now going on hour 7 of an unexpected 14 hour shift.

Graveyard to…whenever. She’s one of the lucky ones that has no time constraints, but a nap refreshes everybody, regardless.

Her laptop had almost finished charging so she sipped from her LSU alumni mug and looked over the folder that was on the top of the pile.

There was a snapshot of the patient stapled to a police report.

Something was…familiar about him. She felt like she’d…

(…seen him before. Soldier…more than that…different now. I know him. From…Before—)

The chiming of her cellphone brought her back to the present.

She quickly stepped into the tiny bathroom, brushed her teeth, rinsed, lightly touched up the pop of lip color, checked to see that her curls were still poppin’…and she smiled.

(Meemaw was right. Age ain’t nothin’ but a number and Black sure don’t crack.)

Finally donning her white coat, she habitually ran her finger over her name:

Dr. Sarah Wilson, Cardiologist

Notre Dame Hospital ~ Est. 1917

She drapes her stethoscope around her neck, picks up her laptop and folders, takes a deep breath— in for 3…out for 4 —and before she turns the doorknob she whispers:

“Pa fè mal…”

and she walks out of her office into the bustling hospital corridor to go meet her first patient of the morning.

Barnes. Sargent James Barnes

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This was just a preview. Here is Chapter 1 : The Beautiful One is Coming

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GLOSSARY

Pa fè mal Do no harm

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All this is because @palettesofrenaissance got me thinking…