For the prompt “I can fix it” on my SarahBucky Bingo card. Sarah has a hard time letting go. Bucky knows what that’s like.
* * * * * * * * * *
“You rode AJ home on your motorcycle? In the rain, Bucky? We talked about this, that’s not safe.” Sarah was fit to scream. She’d been on the other side of the county when Bucky had called, angry, complaining that their old truck, known as Georgia, had broken down.
“What was I supposed to do, Sarah? The truck broke down. Again. We were stranded in a storm.” Bucky didn’t raise his voice, he never did. But he absolutely growled, standing in the kitchen, dripping wet as the chilly rain still fell in sheets outside, thunder rolling in the distance. “That truck is not safe. I’ve said it before. I won’t be lectured over how I chose to solve the problem you won’t admit to.”
“There’s nothing wrong with the truck,” Sarah said flatly.
Bucky raised his arms wide to let more water drip off his hands purposely over the kitchen table and counter. His face was hard, smug, self satisfied to be proved right. “Nothing wrong except it doesn’t run.”
Sarah, standing at the opposite side of the room, dug her heels into the floor. “I can fix it,” she replied.
“…suddenly there came a tapping…” by @tllgrrl aka nefertiri jones
Sarah Wilson/Bucky Barnes, Valentina de la Fontaine | <500 Words | SFW
Summary: After dinner, an unexpected visitor shows up on Sarah’s porch.
* * * * *
Post-dinner clean-up is done, Cass and AJ have commandeered the dining room table with homework, and Bucky is also there on his laptop, offering assistance when needed while he’s doing some preliminary research for Sam’s upcoming mission with Team Cap.
Sarah is in the mudroom taking a load of towels out of the dryer when a tapping is heard at the front screen door.
“I’ll get it,” she says softly, gently squeezing Bucky’s shoulder as she walks past him.
He catches her hand, and kisses it.
“Alright now,” she giggles.
He looks over his shoulder, watching her walk away before turning back to his laptop. He continues studying the maps and notes, but he also listens.
Stepping up to the door, Sarah’s smile fades a little as she sees a short, very well tailored White woman standing there, typing something into an impressive cellphone.
It’s the latest model with a lot of camera lenses on it.
“Hello,” Sarah says, trying not to stare at the large streak of purple in the woman’s otherwise black, highly coiffed hair. “May I help you?“
Quickly glancing over the tiny woman’s shoulder, she sees a black SUV parked at the end of the walkway, and an also very-well-tailored (and serious-looking) black-suited White man standing next to it.
There’s another one in the driver’s seat.
The woman on the other side of the screen door looks up from her phone, smiles an overly bright smile that stops at her eyes, and introduces herself as “Director Valentina de la Fontaine” as if it was supposed to mean something.
“Is Sergeant Barnes in? Sergeant James Barnes.”
The Director looks past Sarah, and on a wall she sees a photo hanging in the middle of a bunch of what looks like family pictures that span several decades.
That center photo, though in an old frame, is very new and immediately catches her eye.
It’s Barnes in a suit and tie, smiling broadly, standing just behind a radiant Black woman who is wearing a pretty yellow dress. She’s holding a bouquet of yellow and blue flowers. His arms are wrapped around her.
Standing in front of them are two young Black boys also in suits but wearing low top Chucks sneakers. Like the happy couple, they’re also grinning ear to ear.
The woman in that photo is the tall, frankly stunning Black woman that’s now standing in front of her. The photo pictured on the fancy cell phone screen identifies her as Sarah Wilson, recently having become Sarah Wilson-Barnes, which now makes this Retrieval even more complicated.
Director de la Fontaine has no patience for complications.
12 hours later…
On a private jet to Langley, Bucky Barnes is not a happy man.
* * * * *
After seeing the Thunderbolts* teaser trailer that Marvel dropped, I’m still thinking that Bucky is going to be tasked with babysitting, and finally joining up to work beside, the Messy Avengers. But how did all that happen? I got some Thoughts that start with this little ficlet that’s been on my mind for a minute, ever since the lineup was announced.
Thanks for indulging me and giving it a read. Feel free to let me know how you think it all went down.
(ADDENDUM: A little flash-forward is HERE in a moodboard drabble.)
The Six Triple-Eight by @tllgrrl aka Nefertiri Jones
@sarahbuckybingo Summer Prompts Fest 2023
Week 6 Prompt - “Alternate Universe”
Sergeant!Sarah Wilson / Sergeant James “Bucky” Barnes | Rating: SFW
Summary: December 1944 - Sgt. Sarah Wilson arrives in the UK—Birmingham, England to be specific—to assist in setting up the facilities and living quarters for a new squadron, the 6888th aka “the Six-Triple-8th”, scheduled to begin arriving in 2 months.
(See Notes at end.)
* * * * * * * * * *
“Need some help with that, ma’am?”
“No thanks, soldier. I got it.”
“Okay, but the street’s wet and slippery, your footing isn’t too steady, plus that handle looks like it’s about to—“
“No, really. I…appreciate your…Oh!! OH!!!”
And before she finds herself flat on her back with her duffle and knapsack on top of her, in the large puddle of water her driver purposefully parked in (she saw the smirk when he jumped out, leaving her to unload her own bags), Sgt. Sarah Wilson is pulled away and into the arms of a soldier.
A White soldier, with dark hair, blue-grey eyes, a good-natured grin, and very strong arms.
“Oh, no. No…I’m…pardon me…" She quickly searches for the insignia denoting rank, but there are none on this uniform which looks nothing like what other soldiers she’s seen wear.
“You can let me go now,” she says evenly. “I appreciate your help.” And not knowing his rank, she quickly added “Sir.”
She tried to extract herself from the man’s arms before anyone could see the two of them, but judging by the slight quirk of his lips and that amused look in his eyes, he wasn’t in a hurry to let go.
She’d seen that look before, but in addition to that look, something was a little bit familiar about him. She felt sure she’d met him before. And maybe he was just another one of the hundreds of soldiers she’s seen since she enlisted. Maybe. But that look in his eyes. For some reason, she sensed more mischief than threat. Still—
“I don’t need this kinda trouble here,” she whispers under her breath while trying to avoid being pulled any closer. “I just want to do my job and get back to—“
He makes sure her feet are under her before releasing her, and he takes a small step back as she straightens her uniform, adjusting her jacket collar and making sure her cap wasn’t askew.
“Thank you. I just got here and would’ve ended up looking like a…a wet hen in front of my C.O.”
“No problem. I was just tryin’ ta give you a hand there. Sorry ya just got here and already ya wanna leave…Sergeant.”
(This place may be named Birmingham, but he’s definitely a Yankee. Wait—)
“You…you heard that? I didn’t mean to—“
“You were saying that you wanted to leave.”
“I’m so sorry! I tend to talk to myself. Didn’t realize I was that loud.”
“No, it’s not that. It wasn’t loud. It was nice. Your voice is really nice. It’s just my hearing is…my senses are…I’m a sniper. Let’s just say I got good eyes and ears.”
“Well, really…thank you for your help…um…”
“Barnes,” he says, offering his hand. “Sergeant James Barnes, Special Operations. You can call me Bu—“
“Sergeant Barnes,” she addresses him and shakes his hand.
He holds onto her hand for a few seconds longer before letting go, and to her surprise, for a few seconds longer she lets him.
“Its a pleasure to meet you. I’m Sergeant Sarah Wilson, Six-Triple 8 Postal Delivery Battalion.”
“Say, you’re with that new all-women unit coming in to deal with the mail? The troops have been dying to get mail. It’s rough being over here as it is, especially with Christmas coming soon. Not hearing from home, a fella can feel pretty low.“
“No mail, low morale.”
“You got that right, sister. I mean, yes ma’am.”
“No mail, low morale is our motto.
I was told that at least a million pieces of Mail are backlogged ‘cause it’s coming in so fast, and a lot of it is just addressed to a name. Sometimes it’s a last name or even just a first name. On top of that, troops are just moved around so quickly that the mail can’t catch up with them. We’re going to be working 24/7 trying to figure out who these letters and packages are meant for and where the recipients are presently stationed.
And we have to make sure letters get back to families whose sons aren’t coming back home.”
“So…where’re they setting you all up?”
“I’m here to do some preliminary work at the site of an abandoned school where we’ll be living and working. They had to make sure there were quarters for Colored women. Had it been a few of us, they’ve put up a tent just outside of the warehouse.
Anyway. We’ve got our work cut out for us and we’ll be ready to go when we all get here.”
“If you need help finding anybody, if you need anything, just ask. Now…” he lifts her bags and steps aside. “Lead the way.”
“As I said, Sergeant, I can take my own bags. It’s just down the road a piece. The driver said he had to get the jeep back to London or he’d’ve taken me out to the…look, It’s really not that far. Hey! Wait!” She runs after him, trying to avoid the puddles in the street. “Come back!”
“No ma’am. I insist. My Ma didn’t raise a bum that’d let a lovely lady like you—“
“Sergeant, please! People can hear and see you—“
“You and your squad are going to be doing us all a big favor,” he says emphatically, slowing and finally stopping. “I mean, everybody here’s got people back home who care about them. I got a Ma and little sister in Brooklyn and they started writing me letters almost the day I shipped out. I been moved around a lot lately, and I know their letters and packages haven’t all gotten to me. Especially anything from Ma. She thinks all she has to do is write Jamie on the envelope, and the Army just knows who or where I am!”
“Jamie?”
He looks down, smiles to himself, shaking his head, and Sarah knows exactly why her job is important for the war effort.
“That’s what she…it’s James.” He looks back up and into her eyes. “You can say I’m selfish, Sargent Wilson, but I’d owe ya the Moon if you found something in that warehouse that my family sent to me.
Tell ya what, to show my appreciation in advance, there's a nice little pub here. Two world wars and they’re still in business. I hope I’m not being too forward, but, I’d like to take you out to dinner. Or, at least let a guy buy you a drink…or a cuppa coffee maybe sometime…if you’d like, that is.”
There’s an interesting mixture of confidence and charm with a little touch of bashfulness that almost catches her off guard.
“Sergeant Barnes, your dinner offer is kind, but…I’m sure you know that it might not be such a good idea you and I, socializing. After all, we’re—“
“We’re the same rank, on the same team, fighting the same enemy, Sergeant. If you’re worried about anybody having a problem ‘cause we’re…look, I’ve ve had drinks at that pub with all kinds o’ soldiers from all kinds of units, and nobody’s said a thing.
Well…except a Corporal one time.”
He glared off into the distance, and Sarah saw his eyes slightly narrow as if he was remembering something. He started walking again. Then he stopped and looked at her.
“The guy was a louse. A bigot, and a bully,” he continued. “It’s a shame what happened to his nose. And his teeth. My hand healed up pretty quick, though.
Nobody starts trouble when I show up at the pub with my friends.
Whaddaya say? By the way, I’m not expecting anything from you except your company, if that’s what you’re worried about. I don’t want you to think I’m some kinda creep or something. I’d really like to take you out to dinner.”
Sarah looked at the sniper with the sharp, blue eyes standing in front of her, holding her dufflebag and knapsack like he was holding someone’s precious possesions. And looking at her like he wanted her to believe what he was saying.
It wasn’t like she hadn’t eaten in a Mess Hall with a fellow soldier, but it was the Colored Mess Hall, with a Negro officer, not a public establishment with a White Sergeant.
There was something about this Sergeant, though, that made her feel like he was kind and could definitely handle any trouble that could possibly arise.
“Friends, huh? Okay, Sergeant.” She started walking. “I’ll think about it.”
He fought the urge to comment about her legs, but he did enjoy watching her walk away for a few steps before he began to follow her.
“Swell! Say, do you like music? Some o’ the guys are having a Christmas show…”
Out of the corner of her eye, the smile she saw that lit up his face was a little bit like he’d hit a jackpot, and a little bit like he was relieved she’d agree.
She almost laughed out loud at his exuberance, but still kept her demeanor professional in case eyes were on them.
Honking horns and shouting drew her attention to where she saw a small convoy of jeeps arrive.
The man driving the first jeep was dressed like Santa Claus and he had a bushy dark mustache over the phony white beard on his chin. He was smoking a cigar, and on top of his Santa hat was a bowler.
“Ho-ho-ho!!” He shouts as the other men laugh and join in.
The rest of the men were quite an interesting group: including one colored, one Asian, one man was wearing a cravat and a beret. They were all armed to the teeth, but they had a tree and packages, along with some baskets and bags of what looked like food and what seemed to be a small keg, and they looked vaguely familiar except one man, who was absolutely familiar.
Even from where she was she could see he was a little taller than Sergeant Barnes (who is a bit taller than her) and though he was muscular, he wasn’t burly. Physically, he was almost perfect in his blue uniform with red and white stripes and a star on the chest.
The man looks over at her and the Sergeant, smiles, and gives a wave. She’d seen him—all of them—in the newsreels back home.
(And he’s carrying a…)
“Excuse me, Sergeant, but…is—?”
“That’s my friend Steve,” he says waving back, “and that’s his squadron. We’re called The Howling Commandos.”
She looks back at the man holding her duffle and knapsack, and it dawns on her that she has seen him before. He’s Sargent Bucky Barnes.
“Come on,” he laughs, heading over to the group of boisterous soldiers, and carrying her bags with him. “I’ll introduce you to the fellas.”
She rushes to keep up and makes sure she doesn’t whisper aloud, thinking:
(Oh, Lord…what am I getting myself into over here? And wait ‘til Mama and Daddy hear that I met Gabe Jones!)
* * * * * * * * * *
SarahBucky Summer Prompt Fest 2023
Week 1: “Cookout” - Wilson Cookout Playlist
Week 3: “Cass & AJ Wilson” - Formal Introduction
Week 5: “Beat the Heat” - 7th Inning Stretch
Week 6: “Alternate Universe” - The Six Triple-8
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NOTES:
This quick little ficlet was inspired by the real-life 6888th Central Postal Delivery Squadron, an all woman, predominantly Black (with at least one Puerto Rican and a Mexican woman) squadron assembled to handle the enormous backlog of mail sent to the American troops in the European Theater during World War 2.
Images in my little moodboard are from their website and I’m not using them for profit, just inspiration and, yes, educational purposes because these women were real and heroes.
Please know that I used the words “Colored” and “Negro” on purpose as this story is set in the 1940s.
They are NOT pejoratives. They fell out of favor and were replaced by “Black” (at one time an insult, later embraced and owned by us and capitalized) and then “African/Afro-American”.
Sidenote, Kerry Washington will be starring in and Executive Producing a movie telling the Six Triple Eights’s story, and they’ll be back in production as soon as the AMPTP comes to their senses and comes correct by negotiating with the Writers Guild and the Screen Actors Guild. (#union strong.)
Heart Beat: a SarahBucky Vampire AU - Chapter 5: Safe House, Pt 2 - “A Whole New World” by @tllgrrl aka Nefertiri Jones
Relationship: Vampire!Cardiologist Sarah Wilson / Vampire!Vampire Hunter Bucky Barnes | Rating: SFW/M | Not twinkly vampires.
Summary:
[Now comes the mourning.]
“Sarah.”
Turning away, he let her grieve.
He had wept, too. He still remembered what happened during his own Awakening.
He too had mourned his own death.
She begins to learn about her status, and her new life.
Barnes steps into a new role as well.
* * * * * * * * * *
Sarah was sitting on the edge of the bed when she felt Barnes approach the entrance to the loft’s sleeping area. She quickly stood and backed away.
“May I come in?”
His voice was low, just above a whisper, but he saw her clenched fists, and the flinch when he spoke. Her eyes were dazed, darting around the room as if she was searching for—trying to locate—something.
He felt her distress before he crossed the loft from the kitchen to the far corner of the living space.
[Dammit to Hell. I have to fix this situation.]
There was no way he couldn’t feel her. He was her Maker. She was in the process of Becoming, was fighting it, and for her, right now all of it was too much. For both of them.
She wasn’t panting, but her breathing was quick. He could hear it.
Because of his advanced age, he could shut out extraneous sensations at will, but he didn’t want to shut her out. He wanted to feel her, but he didn’t want her to be in pain. And he had to get her to feed before making her feed against her will.
It had been easy while she was semiconscious and in the initial stages of the transformation. He would lie with her, and while holding her, slit a vein open at his wrist. She would latch onto him, drink for a few minutes, and slip back into darkness.
The third time, hearing the soft noises she made as she fed almost lulled him into a deep, peaceful sleep with her, but before he drifted off, he caught himself and quickly left the bed, spending the rest of the night in the living room, looking out the window, listening to the City. And listening to her.
All in all, it seemed like her transition from Mortal to Vampire would be relatively smooth.
Then she fully awakened, and for the past 48 hours, getting her to willingly feed again had been an uphill battle. An understatement if there ever was one.
He’d tried several times to convince her to feed. He even told her, in unflinching, no-words-or-feelings-spared detail, the consequences of her not fully feeding. The terror and agony, the madness. But she didn't care. She wasn't going to drink anybody's blood.
Especially not his.
That's when he decided to have the Associates make a stop on the way back to the safe house.
Snowed in…elsewhere. by @tllgrrl aka Nefertiri Jones
Relationships: Sarah Wilson/Bucky Barnes | Rated: SFW
Summary: It’s going to be 70 degrees at home in Delacroix, Louisiana, but the two of them are snowed in…elsewhere.
”…and the snow is still falling, blanketing the Eastern Seaboard. All flights in and out of La Guardia have been cancelled for the past 18 hours and now, all flights out of DC are cancelled as well, leaving passengers stranded at…”
Sarah opens her eyes and sees the Weather Channel lady in front of a map with snowflake graphics covering a large swath of the East Coast, from above New York State, down past Washington DC.
The scrolling text lists airlines that canceled what flights coming into or leaving which airports.
There’s La Guardia…and there’s the flight they were supposed to be on yesterday afternoon. Today’s flights are also canceled.
She feels Bucky’s arm tighten around her and a scratchy face nuzzling her shoulder.
She sees their backpacks and carry-ons still waiting over by the door…and his warm hand opens on her breast as he kisses the nape of her neck.
“Molo, baby,” sleep still in his voice, making it all deeply rumbly in his chest. She feels it on her back.
Yesterday morning after breakfast, they learned that their late afternoon flight out had been canceled. All flights out were canceled.
She had a good cry, phoned the kids, and he brought his mattress into the living room area of the loft.
They made a blanket fort, where they spent the day reading, listening to music, dancing and napping.
After dinner, they watched movies, and he snuggled her closer. “This isn’t so bad, nandi. Better being here together like this than stuck, snowed-in at the airport. We’ll get home to Delacroix before Christmas Eve.”
“Mmmm, true, baby.”
And he kissed her. And kissed her.
And she kissed him right back.
They fell asleep…afterward…with Netflix’s Fireplace video on the TV, as snow fell on Brooklyn.
Welcome Home: Ch 2 - Safe and Home: Special Delivery For Sarah
Relationship: Sarah Wilson / Bucky Barnes | Rating: M
Summary: Team Cap has been away on a mission for 3 months. They—he—will be back, safe and home, in 3 days. 3 more days…
* * * * * * * * * *
Sarah turned off the TV, calling it a night after attempting a 3-episode mini-binge of Great British Bake-off.
She’d started to doze off in the middle of the first episode because it had been a busy day at work, not only doing the day-to-day operational stuff, but also making sure everything was in place and set to run smoothly for the next week while she was going to be on call, working from her home office.
Having a brother who’s an Avenger definitely has perks.
His friend and predecessor, Steve Rogers, liked the Internet well enough. It helped him catch up to modern times. Sam Wilson, however, completely embraced modern technology and wanted to have access to everything at a moment’s notice, even when he was at Sarah’s for some R&R.
And to that end, she and the kids benefitted from having excellent, dedicated, encrypted WiFi in their home, through StarkTech.
Now she was relaxed from the shower she took before hunkering down on the couch for a little Netflix and the half glass of beer left over from dinner.
Noticing that there was only one note taken: “Nadiya – Iced Buns”, she stood up, put her notepad and pen on the coffee table, picked up the empty glass and took it to the kitchen, not bothering to turn on the light there.
She rinsed the glass, put it in the dish rack, closed her eyes in the dark, and…
…feels a solid warmth against her back, a scratchy stubble and soft lips on her neck, an arm on either side of her, and both of their hands resting on the edge of the sink.
One arm, warm flesh.
The other arm, being metal, would be a little bit cooler. Not quite the same temperature of his body. But not…cold.
She feels his arms encircle her waist, his mouth on the nape of her neck, as the shining dark metal hand inlayed with gold slides up, cups her breast and—
The soft clatter of cubes from the ice maker in the freezer jolts her out of her reverie.
She shakes her head and sighs.
“Dammit.”
(3 more days.)
The kids were at a birthday party weekend sleepover, so she was having some final Me Time before all her Men returned: the Little Men, her sons Cass and AJ, and also the Big Men, Sam (just wanting to take a break and go fishing with the kids), and Bucky (craving “properly seasoned food”, the kids…and her), who were due in 3 days, after being gone for 3 months.
(3. Whole. Months.)
Cass and AJ were practically bouncing off the walls in anticipation of when their uncles came back from the latest Captain America mission.
They were planning some kind of “special celebration” that involved the uncles’ favourite cookies—that she’d bake—and a special “Welcome Home” banner that they’d make.
But Cass and AJ weren’t the only ones.
She was starting to bounce off of the walls, too.
Yes, she was looking forward to having her brother here for a few days, but she was bouncing off of the walls in anticipation of the return of the man who she was going to—among other things—let put his hands—among other places—in her hair.
As soon as he’s safe and home…
She checked the downstairs doors and windows, turned off the living room lamp, headed upstairs to the bathroom to brush her teeth, etc., and was on her way up the smaller second set of steps to the attic when her phone rings.
(Right on time.)
“Hello, Gorgeous.”
There he was…the piercing, but soft, smiling, blue-grey eyes. The dark hair, looking a little long and kinda shaggy but in a good way. The beard, also a little on the scruffy side, but still fetching in that way.
(And…be still my heart…are those a few grey hairs??? Yummmm…)
He and Sam would most likely stop off at the barbershop before they come home, or hopefully wait a day or two because she’s gonna want her hands in that hair.
(He’s gonna want my hands in that hair, too.)
She couldn’t tell exactly where he was, but it seemed like he was en route to somewhere, who knows where in what part of the world.
It looked like he was in the back seat of a vehicle and it was dark outside.
She opens the door to his room, walks in and, closing the door behind her, heads straight for the bed.
“Hey there, Handsome! How you doin’?”
“Aside from missing you with my whole body and soul? Fine and dandy. You?”
“Aside from missing you with my whole body and soul? Swell.” She climbs onto his bed, lays there on her back, and inhales his scent while looking into his eyes there on the phone in her hand framed by the starry sky outside of the skylight.
Seeing him right now, she feels something she hadn’t felt since she first started seeing—and after she lost—her late husband, the father of her boys. Cassius.
It was a feeling she thought she’d closed the door on and would never feel for someone again.
She’d missed Mama and Daddy when they passed. She still misses them. She’d missed Sam after The Snap. And, yes, she still misses Cassius.
This wasn’t…isn’t…that.
Eventually, after Cassius passed, this feeling lessened because she had 2 babies here who needed her.
And in addition to raising these two children, she had a generations-old family business to keep afloat, bills and bill collectors to keep at bay, food to keep on the table, and a roof to keep over their heads.
She’d been on a couple of dates, even tried a “relationship” that didn’t last past a few months, and when it ended, she didn’t feel anything even near…this.
And now, here it is again. It sneaked up on her, all stealthy, and it grabbed her by the heart as she looked into those piercing, but soft, smiling, blue-grey eyes.
That…feeling:
Longing.
“Thought I’d give my baby a quick call before she turned in...”
He looks up, gets closer to his phone and whispers, “…an’ it looks like ya’exac’ly where I can’t wait ta see ya.”
(Old School Brooklyn accent’s sneaking in. He’s tired…or anxious. Or both. Just 3 more days, sweetheart.)
“I was missing you, sithandwa, and so here I am…in your bed…”
“In my…mmmmm…are ya now. Well…before I get distracted thinkin’ about all o’ that, I wanted to give you a heads-up.”
“A heads-up…for what?” (Please, Lord, not a mission extension…)
She holds her breath, waiting to hear the exact number of days to be added to the 3 she’s already trying to get through before he’s home.
“I got a little something for ya. Had to call in some favors to have it delivered to the base and then brought directly to you…tonight. Hold on…”
He leans away from his phone, talking to someone in the front seat.
“Sorry about that. Team member talk. Map stuff. Anyways…”
“So…someone is delivering something here…tonight?”
“Yeah. Driver notified me that he should be there in about…5 minutes. Sorry for the last minute late night delivery, but I just wanted to get it there to ya sooner, rather than 3 days from now.”
“3 more days. I can’t wait to see you, James. How you been sleeping, baby?”
“Surprisingly well. Especially when I get ta talk to you before turning in. Just a second…ETA about…2 minutes.”
“Is this package big?”
Bucky’s face breaks out into a huge, mischievous grin. “Well…um…I been told—“
She faintly hears it, a knock on the front door.
“That’s probably the driver.”
“You heard that…? Wait. Who am I talking to?! Of course you heard that! Super-hearing-ability, you!” They both laugh.
“You look beautiful, by the way. So help me, Sarah…I can’t wait to hold you.”
She’s wearing some men’s PJ bottoms and one of his t-shirts, over a lace bralette. Her hair is in 4 twists and covered with one of her her satin-lined bandanas.
She’s decent, but puts a silky robe on over the t-shirt because what some young recruit from the base doesn’t need is to see her in this t-shirt without a proper bra on underneath.
Especially when she’s just been talking to her lover, and it’s…obvious.
She goes downstairs to the living room, makes sure the baseball bat is behind the front door, and the doorstop is in place, looks through the peep and sees someone standing on the porch, holding…what the…?
(Is all…that…flowers?)
“Baby…did you—James. Hello? Did you send—Dammit. Wouldn’t you just…”
Her phone screen now reads CALL ENDED - LOST CONNECTION, and he’s no longer there.
“He’s probably trying to call back...”
She quickly goes to her speed dial contacts, pulls up the special In Case of Emergency Group, turns on the porch light, opens the door a crack…
Sarah Wilson/Bucky Barnes | Rating: Tags will inform when it gets spicy.
* * * * * * * * * *
Summary: “Say it again, please. I…need to…hear you say it, Sarah,” he whimpered, almost panting. “Please…”
* * * * * * * * * *
Nighttime…Somewhere in the backroads between Delacroix and New Orleans…
Sarah feels something. The timing is…off.
(Shit…I was supposed to take a look at this gahtdamn truck engine last week…)
She keeps driving, eyes ahead, watching the dodgy road and glancing in the rear view mirror.
Nothing…yet.
She hears a misfire. Then another, and the truck starts to hitch.
(Not here. Not here not here not here.
Sweet Jesus. Please. Not out here…)
Earlier in the Evening…The Wilson Home…
Rounding the side of the house, instead of trying to make it to the front porch where he was probably lying in wait to intercept her, Sarah made a beeline straight to the trees past the area where Shield training happens.
The moon was almost full and high in the sky. Almost a blessing. Almost a curse.
Moon or none, it was still almost pitch black outside, but though the front porch light and living room lights were off, she could still more or less see where she was, and where she was going.
She had enough darkness where she wouldn’t be automatically visible.
Maybe she could find a safe spot, remain hidden and keep an eye on anyone lurking. The darkness gave her time to figure out a plan.
In her haste, she had run out of the house forgetting to grab her car keys, that were still in the kitchen, hanging on the hook by the refrigerator.
There was no way she could get back in there safely.
Maybe she could go see if the truck’s unlocked, slip inside and lock herself in, but she couldn’t be sure if someone was in the back yard or over by the car port.
Turning around to first make sure she hadn’t been followed, she then raced over to the giant willow that’s almost directly in front of the expanse of yard facing the front porch.
From here, she could see the whole front of the house, and anyone coming around either side.
If they were outside, going around to the backyard, she could make a mad dash, either for the front porch…or on to the driveway, and the road away from the property.
“How the hell did I get myself in this situation?” She mumbled under her breath.
Oh, right! It was the fucking wine.
When she was a little bit lit, she tended to get a little bit…”carefree”?
(Reckless? Without fucks to give?)
In fact, it was a dare and a bet on top of the wine that got her here: A grown-assed woman playing Hide and Seek…with a grown-assed man…outside her house…in the dead of night.
“Son of a bitch…” she hissed, feeling a nervous giggle bubble up from her chest.
Then, the night sounds stopped…and a shiver ran up her spine.
Rules: Write the latest line from your WIP. Make a New Post. Don’t reblog.
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Okay, so, this is more than a line, but I couldn’t just have the last line without a bit of lead in.
This is from a WIP I’ve spent the last couple of days recreating. It’s for a SarahBucky Bingo fill that I almost had finished…then I accidentally deleted it out of stinking Word.
Working Title: 5 Senses
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He jumps down onto the hood, reaches in, takes a handful of her shirt and starts to pull her out of the cab.
“NO! STOP!! LET…ME…GO!!” she cries, trying to brace her legs against the dashboard, managing to throw him off balance for a few seconds, but he grabs a handful of her hair in his other hand, and he hauls her onto the hood of the truck.
Screaming in pain, terror, and more than a little bit of rage, she’s still trying to fight when he flips her over onto her back, then straddles her, holding her left arm down by the wrist, putting that cold, metal hand on her throat.
“Хорошенькая женщина...” [Khoroshen'kaya zhenshchina.] (Pretty woman...) he growls as he leans down, eyes roving her body, lingering on her breasts, then looking directly into her eyes.
All Sarah can see behind the long, dark hair, and above the hard black mask covering his mouth, are his eyes: blue-grey, pupils dilated, focused. Cold…but…inquisitive. Like he thinks he knows her.
“Вы готовы подать? [Vy gotovy podat?] Mmm?” He puts more pressure on her throat. “Are you? Ready…to comply?”
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Soft tag, gently tossed to @khululekile @rebellconquerer @palettesofrenaissance @hearts-are-connected and anyone who hasn’t already been tagged.
