#Sam wilson fanfic | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

wwilsonbarness · 2 years ago

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don't tell my boyfriend, it's not what he's made for

pairings: sam wilson x reader

summary: you try hide your bad days from Sam but he knows you too well. (Based on What Was I Made For by Billie Eilish.)

warnings: depression, mention of bad relationship with parents, angst, fluff, sam being the best boyfriend. I think that's it?

word count: 1559

a/n: my first Sam fic YAY!

Feedback, likes and reblogs are much appreciated :)

I do not give permission for my work to be copied, reposted or translated on any other platform.

masterlist

It’s been 3 days since you last saw Sam, not because he was on a mission or fighting a giant purple-thumb looking alien but because you couldn’t bring yourself to let him see you the way you are right now.

Things had been tough since you graduated college, you had your degree, you’d done everything your parents had asked of you, but you’d never really done anything that you wanted. Your parents didn’t seem to care what you did now, you’d gotten your degree, you’d moved to the city, you’d got away. They’d “done their job” they told you, but what were you meant to do now.

That’s what has been on your mind the last few months and all the stress has finally caught up with you. You weren’t leaving the house, you were hardly eating, you hadn’t seen your friends in weeks. Then there was Sam, you’d been pretending to be okay around him, and it was killing you. You couldn’t do it anymore so you’d been avoiding him, first not going to his apartment, then cancelling plans, and now avoiding his text messages. It only made you feel worse but you couldn’t let him see you this way. He’d probably break up with me.

You had bags under your eyes from the 2 hours of sleep you were getting each night, your eyes were red and irritated by the countless tears that had fallen from them. You hadn’t showered since you last saw Sam and that was only because he surprised you with a picnic in the park.

You’d tried to enjoy that day but all you wanted was to lay in bed and cry, to forget about everything else. But more than anything you wanted Sam, wanted him to hold you, to tell you everything would work out, but that couldn’t happen. You couldn’t have him realise what a mess you were, you couldn’t risk him leaving you.

So that’s how you ended up here, curled up into a ball in the dark on your sofa, crying quietly into your blanket and ignoring the feeling of a slight buzz from your phone beside you. You didn’t know who it was and quite frankly at this point you didn’t care. It had been like this since you woke up, you have no idea how long it’s been, and you had no intention of finding out. That would make you feel worse, knowing you’d wasted another day. You had no intention of moving at all, and that didn’t change when you heard a knock at your door. Just leave it, they’ll go away soon. But they didn’t, they kept knocking and knocking, until Sam’s voice came through the hard wood. His warm and gentle voice being the only thing breaking your almost comatose state.

“Y/N? I know you’re in there, please I just need to see that you are okay. Please?” You felt your heart break as his voice cracked with his last word.

You freeze at first, not knowing what to do. If you didn’t answer you were 90% sure he would kick your door down. So you did the only thing you could do and walked slowly towards the door, cracking it open slightly, not even removing the chain.

His head fly’s up from the spot he was staring at on the ground when he hears your door creak open.

“Hi Sam.”

“Y/N,” He goes to push the door open only to be met with the resistance of the chain. “Can you open the door properly? Please?”

You don’t really want to let him into your depressive bubble but at the same time you wanted him, his warmth against your skin, the smell of his cologne that always made you feel safe. So you nod slightly and remove the chain.

He immediately steps in and pulls you towards him. Your head finds its usual spot against his chest and his warmth seeps into you which instantly makes you feel a little bit lighter.

“Thank god.” Sam sighs in relief as he wraps his arms around you, bringing his left hand up to the back of your head to cup it slightly. “I thought something had happened to you when you didn’t answer your phone all day, I was so worried about you baby.”

All day? You had no clue that much time had passed, and now you were angry at yourself for worrying Sam, he doesn’t deserve all this. He deserves someone better.

You start to feel your eyes burning as more tears threaten their escape. “I’m sorry Sammy.”

“Hey, none of that, okay? You wanna tell me what’s going on?”

Sam had kind of guessed what was happening, sure he mostly had experience working with Vets with PTSD, but he definitely knew the tell tale signs of depression. So when you started to pull away, and started acting not quite like yourself he had made sure to clear his schedule as much as he could to be there for you.

“I.. I don’t really know.”

“That’s okay baby. Can I stay with you for a bit?”

You shake your head against his chest and start to pull away from him as it hits you how you look, how your apartment looks. Panic starts to overtake every other emotion already running though you. “Oh my god. The mess and I haven’t even- I look so gross and I didn’t-“

Sam cuts you off before you can spiral more. “Hey, take a breath. It’s okay.”

“It’s not okay, nothing is okay anymore.” He guides you to the sofa gently and sits beside you, slightly turning himself in your direction.

“Try and breathe for me, okay? In and out. Copy me.” You try to listen and copy his breathing. “That’s it, good girl. You're doing such a good job baby.”

“I don’t know what to do anymore.”

“What do you mean?” He replies, with a hint of confusion.

You shake your head before continuing. “No, I don’t want to burden you Sam. You can leave if you want to, I’d understand.” You were so sure he’d leave, there was no way he could want to stay with you now. Right? Deep down you knew your brain was lying to you but you didn’t have it in you to fight what it was so easily telling you.

“Baby,” He looks at you with pure concern and love in his eyes. “I’m not going anywhere, you can tell me what’s wrong, you can tell me anything.”

You look down and start to play with your sleeves before you answer him. “It’s not what you’re made for, you don’t deserve to have to pick up all the pieces everytime I fall apart. You deserve someone who’s happy, and I…” You pause to try and figure out how to say what you are feeling. “I think I forgot how to be happy.” It comes out as an almost whisper, in fear of it chasing him away.

Sam’s heart breaks hearing how you are feeling, he’s never felt this much love for someone or something before and wants nothing more than for you to be okay. He needs you to know how much you mean to him.

“Y/N, look at me?” You shakily bring your eyes back up to him. “That’s exactly what I was made for, you’re everything to me and I want to help you in any way that I can. Who was there when I beat myself up for Karli’s death? You. Who picked me back up again when I worked myself too hard? You did. So please, let me help you. Let me in. I will be here to pick up every little piece of you for as long as you will have me.”

The tears had managed to find an escape route now, and were freely rolling down your cheeks. You knew Sam loved you, he’d told you every chance he got and you hated that your brain could convince you otherwise.

“I love you Sam.” He brings his lips to your forehead and places a gentle kiss.

“And I love you too, so much, and whenever you’re ready to talk, I’m here to listen, okay?”

“Okay..” You weren’t ready to talk yet, you just wanted him. “Could you just hold me for now?”

“Of course, anything you want.”

He lays back on the sofa and brings you into his lap. Your head finds its place in his chest again, seeking his warmth. Things were silent for a few moments, each of you soaking up the feeling of being close with one another, until your stomach rumbling broke the silence.

“Baby?” he asks gently but concerned.

“Hmm?” You know where this is going but you try to play innocent.

“Have you eaten anything today?” You shake your head in embarrassment that you hadn’t managed to do that.

“Want me to order something in?” You nod against him. “The usual?”

“‘Mhmm. Can you get some of the-“

“Chocolate dumplings.” You say together which makes you both laugh, your first real laugh in a while and it feels nice.

“How could I not?” Sam says as he playfully rolls his eyes. “But until there’s a knock at the door I’m not letting go of you.” He squeezes you extra tight to show you he’s not kidding.

#wwilsonbarness #marvel #sam wilson #sam wilson x y/n #sam wilson fanfic #sam wilson fanfiction #sam wilson x you #sam wilson x reader #the falcon #captain america #sam wilson imagine #sam wilson fluff #sam wilson angst #don't tell my boyfriend it's not what he's made for #sam wilson fic #samuel wilson #the falcon fic

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sweetcocopowder · 8 months ago

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Sambucky Throw Away Fic

Synopsis: Bucky has a nightmare and Sam is there is help

Word Count: 802

Warnings: Trauma. angst. Fluff

Notes: This is a throw away fic because I realized after writing this for a request, it wasn't what they wanted. So this is just, eh. Here you guys go ahaha. Also this is very much unedited!!!

All Sam can do is watch and wait. He’s tried to stop the nightmares before, once. And that led to him having a black eye for up to two weeks. And it honestly pains him to sit here and watch Bucky toss and turn in his sleep.

He breathes heavily and sweat lathers his body in a thick sheen that can be seen in the low lighting of the bedside lamp. His face is scrunched up into a painful expression, his mouth mumbling words that don’t quite make sense. His metal arm shifts and shutters Bucky grips the blanket that he’s stolen completely from Sam.

Then Bucky’s metal arm swings out, just missing Sam by a hair before the owner of it sits up straight with a strangled cry. Bucky was quick to look around the room in a panic, almost like he wasn’t seeing reality, but what was still replaying in his mind. This was something that always has Sam’s heart aching… wrenching to reach out and touch the solider. But he couldn’t, he couldn’t bear to scare him anymore than he already is. The sweat makes Bucky’s skin look like a wet mess, his short hair sticking to his forehead.

“Another nightmare?” Sam asks.

The voice in the dimly lit room catches Bucky off guard. He quickly looks to Sam, blue eyes wide in the night almost an iced expression with nothing but pain swirling in them. He tries to calm down quickly though as he realizes who’s next to him. Running his cold metal fingers through his soaked hair, he cringes at the feeling. No one else would be in the same bed as him. He wouldn’t let anyone see him like this not even Steve, but yet... Sam’s an exception.

Bucky swallows thickly as Sam finally reaches out and places a hand on the other man’s sticky forearm. His shoulders slouch at the touch, his features relaxing.

“Yeah,” Bucky says as he turns away, flinching slightly at the touch of his lover.

“Wanna talk about it?” Sam asks.

And like all those other times, Bucky’s back is all he sees. Hunched over and almost embarrassed. Silence comes naturally. To Sam’s annoyance. His hand falls from Bucky and he flops back down onto the bed with a groan, rubbing his eyes slightly from the lack of sleep.

“It’s better to talk about it. Get it off your chest,” Sam can’t help but grin into his words. “Feels reeeaaaal good.”

Bucky sighs, running his Vibranium hand through his hair again this time trying his best to flatten out the spikes and stray pieces of wet floof. “I dreamt of the train again,” his voice is all but a cracked whisper, one that Sam only just catches.

He sits up fully this time, searching for the soldier’s face in the dim street lights that shine through the apartment window. Bucky’s eyes stare down at his hands, as if the memory places right in front of his eyes. Sam’s seen this so many times with other soldiers. But Bucky always feels different to the rest. He’s always been different to the rest.

“Bucky,” Sam softly says.

Blue eyes quickly look to him, snapping out of thought. Sam holds onto his flesh and blood arm again, squeezing tightly this time.

“That’s all in the past. What’s now is now,” Sam states.

“That’s easier said than done,” the soldier almost snaps.

Sam rolls his eyes while shaking his head. “I know it’s easier said than done. But saying some shit out loud helps, even if it may seem fruitless at first.”

Bucky swallows thickly, watching Sam intently. Sam can see so many thoughts flickering and spiralling around his head. He’s just gotta make up his mind to what he’ll choose to say.

“I know this may not be the time, but c-can I kiss you?” Bucky asks, his gaze wondering back down to his hands, picking his nails anxiously. He always felt so stupid asking for affection. Feeling guilt when he only asks for a simple kiss.

Sam chuckles lightly. “Only if you don’t change the topic next time.”

Bucky doesn’t respond to that. He cups Sam’s face without a second thought softly with his Vibranium hand and kisses him with only a grunt in response to the other male. Gently at first before deepening it with a neediness that is borderline touch starved. Sam holds on tightly to Bucky’s arm, letting the other man lead. He kisses like some romantic idiot from a cheap romance movie. But it’s perfect for Sam.

And if this eases the pain a little in the soldier’s mind. If it helps him navigate his words, or just simply makes him feel better in that moment alone. Then Sam would allow himself to be the distraction to the nightmares.

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random-writerings · 5 days ago

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Full Name: Faith Morgan

Face Claim: Emily Bett Rickards

Born: 1984

Died: 2018 (the Snap); Resurrected in 2023 (the Blip)

Age: 30 (TWS); 31 (AoU); 32 (CACW); 34 (IW); 34 (End); 35 (TFATWS); 36 (BNW)

Nationality: Canadian

Birthplace: Toronto, Ontario

Occupation: Hacktivist; S.H.I.E.L.D. agent; Stark Industries employee; Avengers Support Team

Education: Masters in Computer Science from MIT; PhD in Computer Science from S.H.I.E.L.D. Academy

Skills: Coding; Hacking; Analysis; Information Gathering; Espionage

Leap of Faith // Playlist // Cover

#my ocs #marvel #marvel fanfic #sam wilson #sam wilson fanfic #sam wilson x oc #oc: faith morgan #fic: leap of faith

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mbrokenheart93 · 19 days ago

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Two Years Later

Pairing: None. Just Bucky Barnes and Sam Wilson as partners and friends. Mention of Bucky Barnes X Female Reader. Mentions of Helmut Zemo.

Alternative scene for CA: BMW based on the trailers.

Warning ⚠️: None. Possible spoilers from TFATWS, possible spoilers from CA:BNW (if I was right in what I wrote a few months ago)

Author's Note: Hello everyone. I would like to post this early but the storm here in Buenos Aires makes disasters and the internet was off almost all day. So, here's the thing: When a months ago in some news Marvel told that Bucky wasn't in CA: BNW, I thought "Bucky has to be in at least one scene of this movie" and I wrote this in... March 27th of 2024. As always, the characters belong to Marvel Studios but the imagination is mine.

So... This is the result.

I have had so much fun writing again with two of my favourites marvel boys and this is my little fic about them.

Thanks for reading my Ted Talk and I hope you enjoyed reading this.

PS: It's 05:34 A.M here.

I hope you like it and always the reblogs and comments means so much for me 🩷

..............

Present Day

Sam smiles with a hint of mockery as soon as he sees his partner coming down the stairs with his typical annoyed expression and a bag hanging on his shoulder. When Bucky sees him, he smiles because despite himself, he learned to love him too.

- You look good, old man.

- Steve is no longer here to protect you and you know it, Wilson. Be careful what you say to me - The two share a hug that conveys many emotions and laugh as if they were two friends who haven’t seen each other for a long time. Sam spends a lot of time texting Bucky and ends up at his house every friday he can just to bother him. It had been two years since they had made peace with their pasts and their new futures. Bucky is very proud of Sam and his work as the new Captain America and Sam was proud of Bucky for his integration into today's society and his new job in the Government - Cap.

- Sergeant - Bucky steps away as he pulls an iPhone out of his pocket and sees a message that makes him smile. He steps away instantly as soon as he hears Sam laugh. - Is that a modern phone? And is there a smile on your face? Who melted the Winter Soldier?

- Shut up Sam, I have a reputation to maintain - Bucky tries to hide a shy smile but without losing the hardness of his voice. Sam continues smiling as if he had been given a great birthday present.

- You're not fooling me, handsome. Tell me.

Both walk among the people, who go here and there, some look at them as they pass and Bucky shakes his head.

- I went out into society a little more and I might be meeting someone. Nothing important yet.

- Everything is important to you, Bucky. Even to me.

- I know.

- How are things with the government?

- More difficult than I expected. A little easier from above and I'd do great at the job.

- I found out that the new boss is De Fontaine. How are you doing?

- It's hard, she thinks that anyone don't notice, but I know she's cynical, but there we go, as long as she lets me do my job, I'll try to deal with her when the time comes.

- You know that if things get tough we'll be there to put them in place - Sam hits Bucky's arm but he stops looking around, alerting Sam who comes a little closer, looking for some confidence between them.

- Uh... About that. I won't be able to go with you this time, Cap.

- What do you mean no? Are you tired of me? - The joke is real but those who know him know that his tone is different.

- Maybe, in fact, yes. I need that umbilical cord that Steve tied us to be cut - They both laugh as some soldiers pass by them and salute them as their positions correspond. Bucky frowns because, as Sam knows, he's still not used to returning to his military status.

- No. I'd actually like to go with you, regardless of all the joking, but I was asked to take on an intelligence mission.

- It's coming from Above?

- Actually, from Below. Classified. You know what I mean. - Sam nods and leads him to an office where no one can hear them. As soon as they enter, he leans against the door and Bucky crosses his arms - There's a De Fontaine dispatch team... And it's very difficult.

- It's more difficult that deal with you?

Bucky's silence tells him that this is serious. Very serious.

- They do the dirty work, Sam. And they're afraid it will get out of hand.

- How is that?

Bucky looks around and sighs. For a moment Sam knows he's thinking about telling him the problem but he doesn't hesitate.

- Do you remember Belova?

- Natasha's sister? The crazy woman who tried to kill Barton? What does she have to do with this group?

- She's the leader of the team. They were sent on some kind of suicide mission and they don't know about it. And they're afraid that when they find out...

- Damn. It'll end badly. And what are you going to do with them?

- For now I just have to keep an eye on them and investigate each one. Then I'll see what I do if things get out of hand.

- I don't like the sound of that, Buck.

- If I think about it, I don't either.

- And if everything goes out of control, what will you do...? - Sam thinks about how his friend doesn't need help, but he still wants to go with him. This is much more serious than an act of government.

He sees his friend look at the window and Sam shakes his head as he approaches and hits his arm. He knows that innocent puppy expression, and he doesn't like it a bit.

- You'll look for him, right?

- I didn't say that. It came out of your mouth. - Bucky shrugs and avoids looking at his face.

- What the fuck, James. You'll go for him.

- You know that if everything goes to hell, I think Zemo is the one who can get rid of them. - Bucky admits as Sam's curses fill the room.

- What if he betrays you and joins them?

- I wouldn't expect anything less from him.

Sam refuses to think about taking Zemo out of the Raft and provoking the wrath of the Dora Milaje again, but he knows that Bucky will only do it if he has no other alternative and with his help. And probably the presence of the Sokovian is not enough.

The two leave the office and walk to the hangar where a car is waiting for Sam that will take him to the hotel to change his clotehs and then meet the President of the United States and a motorcycle that is parked several meters behind several government cars.

- So I won't see you for a few months?

For a moment, Sam thinks about the phrase, which seems to come from one of the romantic comedies that his sister watches and clicks his tongue in displeasure.

- Probably not, you'll hear from me if things don't go as I hope.

Bucky looks at the government agents waiting near the car that Sam must get in and he squeezes his shoulder.

- Be careful, Barnes. I promised Steve you'd make it to 200 in one piece. - Bucky lets out a curse in the middle of a laugh and shakes Sam's hand, who takes it without hesitation to pull him in for a hug. - I'm happy to see you okay and in the real world, Bucky. I mean it.

- Me too.

Bucky steps away and points to the car before walking away a little.

- And before you go, tell me, who's the young lady? Or maybe a young man?

- I know you always wanted me to notice you, Sam, but you won't be that lucky - Sam makes an offended face and then laughs - It's her, Sam. She's my neighbor.

- You didn't look far, did you? Did she help you find the apartment, with all the stuff, or was it the typical "I went to the wrong door" move?

- She takes care of my cat.

Sam is going to scoff at his words until he processes what his friend says.

- You, ex-Hydra agent, soldier with very little humor and zero tolerance for any other living being, do you have a cat?

- Yes. It's been almost two years that Alpine lives with me.

- And how come I didn't know? What I mean is where the cat was when I was in your apartment?

- You don't know everything about me, Sam. You know what I want you to know about me. He was with my neighbour. I told you that a few moments ago.

Bucky laughs out loud at Sam's surprised face and he mutters an insult under his breath, but seeing his friend happy makes him happy.

- Yeah right, Sigmund Freud. Whatever you say.

Bucky's phone rings and when he sees it, Sam knows from the expression on his face that it's from work.

- I have to go, Sam. Take care of yourself, will you?

Sam knows that's the hardest thing that can come out of his friend's mouth: Emotions

- You too, Barnes.

- Try not to die out there, I won't be able to stop your fall when your suit fails.

- Try not to die, Soldier. Otherwise I have to pay someone else to take care of my ass.

They both laugh and as Bucky gets on the bike, Sam approaches and shakes his hand, joking aside. Serious and somewhat worried. After all, he is his friend.

- Take care of yourself, seriously.

- I will. If you need me, just make the call and I'll be here.

- I know. Same for you. Don't forget that.

Bucky rolls his eyes and laughs as he adjusts his bag on his back and starts the bike.

- Come on, come over and kiss me. I know you want it, Sam. This is how we say goodbye properly.

- Do you want it that much, Barnes? Just ask for it and you've got it.

They both laugh, and Sam says goodbye making the army sign to his friend. Bucky nods and leaves the parking lot and for the first time in a long time, Sam feels happy with the result of the goodbye.

They are both fine. The world can fall apart and they will be there for each other.

That's more than enough for now.

.............

Thanks for reading 🩷

#marvel cinematic universe #fanfic writer #marvel fanfic #bucky barnes x reader #tfatws #tfatws fanfiction #sam wilson fanfic #james bucky barnes fic #i write for myself but you can read it too

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anonymityisfunwriter · 1 year ago

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Midnight Rain

“I broke his heart because he was nice. He was Sunshine, I was Midnight Rain…”

Request from ao3- "ok but imagine a grumpy/sunshine fic with sam but the reader is the grumpy one 🤷" For one of my fave readers, @/badasswithafatass I hope you enjoy! 💛

Pairing - Sam Wilson x Reader Sam Wilson Masterlist | Inspired By Taylor Swift Masterlist Anon's 1K Celebration

“You know, for a smart guy, you’re pretty fucking dense," Bucky mutters, taking another swig of his beer.

“Aw… you think I’m smart?” Sam sarcastically awes from the bar stool beside Bucky.

Bucky rolls his eyes, shaking his head, “Do you honestly think she had any real interest in me?”

Bucky doesn't miss the tick in Sam's jaw at the mention of you. Months had passed since the last time Sam saw you, and he wasn’t too keen on remembering that dreaded last night. Just the memory of you leaning over the bar counter, hand resting on Bucky’s chest, whispering something in Bucky's ear, was enough to make Sam's stomach twist into a knot.

Even before that night, he could tell that you were pulling away from him, but there it was, that night, the final nail in the coffin. That was the last time he’d seen or heard from you. You walked out of his life without so much as a goodbye.

Sam rolls his shoulders back, his mouth twisting in distaste, “Sure seemed like it to me.”

“See? Dense,” Bucky declares, tipping his beer in Sam's direction.

“Alright, I’ll bite. How does any of that make me dense?”

“You’re an idiot.”

“Are you going to keep insulting me or are you going to actually explain?”

“Sam, she’s a spy, an assassin," Bucky explains like it should be obvious. "She knew you were standing there. She knew you were watching.”

"So maybe she wanted to make a point. It’s not like she was one for talking or communicating, maybe that was her way of letting me know how she actually felt. Trust me, I got the message loud and clear. That doesn’t make me dense."

"Sam..." Bucky takes a long breath. "We're a lot alike, me and her. And people like us, we cut and run, it's what we do. We don't wait for things to go bad, we live with the expectation that things will always go bad."

Sam tosses the rest of his whiskey back, flagging down the bartender for another one. "That's a depressing way to live."

“It keeps us alive.”

“We weren’t on a battlefield!" Sam spits through gritted teeth. "We were done with the fight, remember? We won, for Christ’s sake!”

“And where did that leave her, Sam? With a conditional pardon? People watching us 24/7?”

“With me!” Sam snaps, slamming his glass down on the bar. “It left her with me. We were good, Bucky! We were happy together. At least, I thought we were happy together. I even- I told her that after everything, that I would take her back home, meet my family, maybe settle down a little.”

"And while you're thinking about taking her home to meet your family, she's probably thinking how a family like yours is going to react to you bringing an actual assassin home."

"I... didn't think about it like that,” Sam confesses, faltering for a moment. He shakes his head. No. He refuses to accept that. It didn't excuse that he'd found you flirting with his best friend. It didn't change that you told him he meant nothing to you. “Because I don't think about her like that. And you know what? She could've talked to me, she could've told me she felt like that, Bucky, but she didn't."

"Sam, can I be honest?"

"Shoot."

"I don't think you two will ever work."

"That's a shitty thing to say to me," Sam spits.

"I don't," Bucky admits with a languid shrug. "Honest truth, I don't see it."

"You don't have to see it, I do,” Sam firmly states. “I see it working out."

Bucky claps a hand on Sam's shoulder with a tight lipped smile, "That's my point, Sam. That's the difference between you and us. You, you live for the hope of it all. She doesn't know how to do that. I don't know how to do that. We're broken, haunted people, Sam. We hurt people that get too close."

"You're wrong."

"Why else-"

"Because she was bored!" Sam angrily shouts, not caring at the stares his outburst brings. "She only wanted me because I was there."

“Do you honestly believe that?”

“Yes. I do believe that,” Sam hisses. “Unlike you guys, I believe the words that come out of people’s mouth. She was bored... She was bored and I was there.”

Bucky takes a long pull from his beer, rising from his seat with a defeated sigh. He turns to Sam to offer one last piece of insight, “All I’m saying is I wouldn’t go on the run with someone for two years because I was bored. Not unless I really gave a shit about them. Not unless I loved them, like really loved them.”

"Do you mean that?" Sam asks over his shoulder.

"Yeah, I mean that."

3 Years Earlier - Somewhere in Scotland

“Just let me do the talking, okay?”

Sam raises up his hands, “No arguments from me.”

The doorknob rattles for a moment, opening just enough for you to stand before them. You look at them and immediately try to snap the door shut, “No.”

Nat extends out her hand to stop the door from swinging shut. “Just hear us-“

“No.”

"You don't even know why we're here," Nat argues. “It’s important. Please.”

You relent, allowing the door to fling open. Standing tall in the doorway, your eyes rake over each of them, “Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanov or whatever name you’re going by now, and Sam Wilson, all in the flesh, all the most wanted fugitives on Earth. So I don’t care how important it is, my answer is no.”

Sam’s eyes comically widen, his voice taking a slightly bewildered, high pitched tone, “How did - Do you happen to know the names of all strangers that show up at your door?”

Your eyes dart over to Sam with a grimace, “Strangers that show up at my door end up dead. Consider yourself lucky.”

“I want you to know I’m choosing to take that as a compliment,” Sam quips, placing his hand over his heart.

“Don’t worry, Sam," Natasha smirks over her shoulder. "She’s more bark than bite. And this is me calling in a favor.”

Your eyes narrow at Natasha, "Which favor?"

"Budapest."

Your mouth narrows into a thin line as you glare at her. You hated that favor.

You look back at the three of them. Even dressed in street clothes they all stuck out like sore thumbs. They’re all disheveled, clearly exhausted, and you did owe Natasha. You convince yourself that there is no good in this deed, it’s just a repayment. Even as your eyes linger back to Sam for a second too long. You tell yourself you don't care what happens to any of them. It's just paying a debt. “Fine. Just keep me out of it.”

Natasha nods, offering a small grateful smile, “Thank you.”

You turn on your heels without another word, striding down to your room. You slam your bedroom door shut, leaving the others on their own.

“It was nice meeting you,” Sam calls after you.

You don’t bother to reply.

After a few hours, the sun sets and your safe house returns back to its normal quiet state except for the soft snores of Steve Rogers in your spare bedroom. You’re certain that they’ve all gone off to get some rest. That is, everyone, except Sam Wilson.

“Have a good nap?” Sam greets you, sitting on the small couch in the middle of your living room.

Your eyes snap over to Sam, lightly scoffing, “Actually, I was avoiding you.”

Your brutal honestly doesn’t phase Sam. The corner of his mouth twitches up as he playfully tugs on the collar of his t-shirt, “I tend to have that effect on the ladies… That sounded better in my head.”

“For you and me both,” you quip.

“You know, you’re kind of a jackass.”

“I know. Thanks.” That's the only conversation you plan on having with Sam Wilson. You continue walking to the kitchen without saying anything else.

"So how long have you and Nat been friends?" Sam asks, trailing you as you walk to your kitchen, clearly not taking the hint that you don't want to talk to him.

You scoff over your shoulder, "Who said we were friends?"

"So you're not friends? Because the whole letting us hide out here, housing us, letting us eat your food, not turning us in, sorta gave me a different idea."

"We're not friends."

In truth, your relationship to Natasha was much more complex than that. At one point, you were like sisters. In the Red Room, she was all you had. Your only friend. Your confidante. And still, you could never quite live up to her, always second to her. You knew all her secrets, all the blood spilt, all the skeletons in her closet, and she knew all of yours.

The night before your graduation, you ran. As far away and as quickly as your legs could carry you.

You were never quite sure if it was irony or simply Dreykov’s own cruelty, but she was the one tasked to find you and collect you. You never stood much of a chance against the person that spent almost two decades besting you. She found you in Budapest. It would’ve taken a single shot. And still, it never came.

But you weren’t going to tell that to Sam.

"You're not friends?”

"No."

After that, your paths crossed only once in a blue moon. Once Natasha left Dreykov, she never sought you out. And you didn’t bother to either. You weren’t friends. You weren’t enemies. She was the sister that became little more than a stranger.

"Do you help all your not friends run from the law?"

"Natalia and I have an agreement of ... mutually assured destruction."

"Mutually assured destruction?" he dubiously repeats, quirking an eyebrow. "...So best friends."

In spite of your best efforts, your outwardly stoic expression gives way as a chuckle bubbles out of your mouth.

"Did anyone see that?” Sam proudly announces to the empty house. “I want it on the record that I made a Black Widow laugh!"

"Don't push it," you warn, though the hint of a smile that pulls at the corner of your mouth dampens the threatening undertone of your words.

"You've got a nice smile," Sam compliments.

You wipe the smile off your face, but there's nothing you can do to tame the slight blush creeping up your face, so you say the first thing that comes to mind, "Fuck off."

That's how it went between you and him. Push and pull.

Their time at your safe house in Scotland was short lived. No more than a few weeks. And even in those few short weeks, he saw it, saw the good that you desperately tried to keep hidden. Even then he knew, he knew you cared so much more than you would ever let on. Cooped up in your little cottage, he found that behind your barbed words and tough exterior, was a person that he really liked. You didn't let him see very much of it. Most of the time, it was in little slip ups, little cracks in your armor, but he saw it. He swore he did.

Sam ambles alone through the streets of New York, the pavement is still damp from the midnight rain, the noisy cityscape is the only thing keeping Sam from fixating on the endless loop of memories playing in his head.

He’d be lying if he said that he didn’t think about you anymore. He did. All the time.

He thinks about how good it used to be. How even on the run, constantly looking over your shoulder, it was good. He'd like to think you were as happy as he was.

In truth, he wasn't sure how or when it happened. You weren't very nice to him - to any of them really. You kept them at arm's length. He had to earn every glimpse of the person behind the armor. He had to earn every smile, every laugh, but he found each one was worth it. To him, you were worth it. You were worth all of it.

And when that time came, when that safe house wasn't safe anymore, you stayed by his side, you became his home.

You simply walked up to the breakfast table and announced that it wasn't safe to stay much longer. "You have to leave."

"What?"

"We've been here too long. People in town are beginning to talk."

Natasha didn't miss a beat. "How long?"

"Tonight."

Sam watches the interaction closely. You refuse to look at him. For a moment, Natasha's eyes look at you, imploring. She utters a quiet question in Russian.

You don't respond, only shaking your head once.

"I understand." She softly inhales, her shoulders slumping slightly, "Thank you."

You nod, turning on your heels and heading to your room. You didn't expect Sam to follow after you.

There's some part of you that's unsettled by how easily Sam fits into your life. You don't like how he speaks to you like you're friends. You don't like that there's a part of you that would love to know what being in Sam's life would feel like. And you most certainly don't like that Sam has no problem questioning you. Prying into your life. He won't like what he finds. He'll run the moment he sees the number of skeletons in your closet. No, you don't like that at all.

And you definitely don't like that he feels comfortable enough to follow you back to your bedroom. He wedges himself into your doorway, leaning against the wall, "So what about you?"

You don't turn to look at him as you pack your duffle bag, "What about me?"

"Where you gonna go?"

"I have other places."

"By yourself?"

"Typically."

"Why don't you stay with us?"

You pretend like you're surprised by the offer. As though Natasha didn't offer the same thing two minutes ago. You just didn't expect Sam's kindness to extend past his need for your safe house. "What?"

He takes a step off the wall. Even turned away from him, you can practically hear the grin he wears in his words. "We could always use the help. You seem like kind of a pro at being a fugitive."

"I don't think your team would appreciate my presence."

"I would. I want you to come." Sam turns back at the doorframe. He pauses for a moment, looking back at you. "You should come with us."

You never told him why you ended up joining them. It was the one question he couldn't ever get a straight answer for.

He couldn't really remember how or when you ended up in his bed - or more accurately, when he ended up in your bed.

All he knew was that for two years, you were his sanctuary. Each and every night. He held you. Kissed away your fears. You allowed him to see parts of you that you buried long ago.

It made the moment you walked away hurt even more.

He doesn't know what the hell he's doing here. He's pacing through the streets of New York in the middle of the night. It won't bring you back. It won't change what happened. You still left him.

It was easier believing that you left him because you didn't love him.

The other option hurts. It hurts too much. His heart almost shatters at the though of you leaving him because you didn't see it working out, because you thought you would hurt him.

That's the worst part - he believes Bucky. He believes that no one, not even someone as prone to finding trouble as you are, would ever go on the run with someone for the hell of it. Not unless you cared. Not unless you loved him.

He should've seen it. The panic in your eyes when he suggested going back to Louisiana. The pain when you lost Natasha, the last person you considered family.

It eats at him. He didn't even try. Not really. Yeah, you walked away, but he could've gone after you. He could've believed in the love he knew you shared.

He reaches for his phone, tucking into the crook of his neck as he hails a cab, and calls the one person that could possibly help him, "I need your help. Can you find someone for me?"

1 Year Earlier - Somewhere in Eastern Europe

“Stop watching me sleep.”

Sam kisses your bare shoulder, resting his chin on your arm, “It’s the only time you’re not frowning. Except when you’re with me, of course.”

You sleepily sigh, trying to suppress the smile that Sam so effortlessly puts on your face. You halfheartedly push him away, rolling further away from him, “I’m going back to sleep.”

Sam’s arms wrap around you, pulling you closer to him, “No, come back.”

“We’ve got a lot to do tomorrow, we should get the rest while we can.”

“I miss you,” Sam whines.

“I’m right here.”

“But we’re always talking about work, about the world ending, I just - I just want a minute, just me and you.”

You finally turn around to face him with a cheeky grin, “You had me to yourself all night, remember?”

“How could I forget?”

You settle against him, resting your head on his chest, “So why couldn’t you sleep?”

He smiles down at you, absentmindedly playing with your fingers, “I was thinking.”

“About?” you urge.

“What comes next. After the fight, after everything, about going home, finally seeing my family again. My sister would love you. I can't wait to introduce you."

Your smile slips from your face. "What?"

"I mean, I know we're on the run and everything, but I'm still holding onto hope," Sam confesses. "You'd love Louisiana."

A sinking feeling overtakes you. Those survival instincts you've spent your entire life cultivating bubble up. You could see Sam's family picture where he left it on the dresser. His picture perfect, shiny family.

That wasn't you. Not even in your wildest dreams could that be you. The closest thing you had to a family was the Black Widow sitting in the other room cleaning her knives. You weren't meant for domesticity. You weren't built for the happy ending that Sam deserved. The happy ending he wanted.

Sure, he loved you now, but would he love you when his family looks at you with disdain? Would he love you when Sarah refuses to let you anywhere near his nephews?

Or even worse, what if he did? What if he loved you through it all and you broke him in return? What if he loved you and he lost everything else because of it?

You could tell Sam. Right here and now. Tell him that you weren't built for that life. He would listen. He would hear you. Like all of your other scars and imperfections, Sam would take it in stride. You knew he would.

But could you really do that to him? Doom him to a life tethered to someone so tainted.

He was perfect. In every conceivable way. He was Sunshine. And though you'd done unspeakable things, there would be nothing quite as vile as dragging him down to the dim, murky depths of the wasteland you called home.

He deserved more. More than you would ever be.

6 Months Ago - A Bar in New York City

"You don't have to do this."

You bitterly chuckle. It was too late. You'd made up your mind. You gave yourself until the war against Thanos was won. You gave yourself that time to say your silent goodbyes, to memorize the one and only love you would ever allow yourself to have. You were selfish in that way.

Now was the time to save Sam while you still could, to finally set him free. Even if you had to break his heart to do it. You rest your hand on Bucky's chest, the furthest you could allow yourself to go without making your stomach turn. "Do what?"

Bucky's jaw ticks, "He's a good man."

"I know." It's the only time your voice reveals even an ounce of your pain. Your eyes flicker to over Bucky's shoulder. It's too late. Sam stands a few feet from you, watching you with anguish in his eyes. For good measure, you lean in closer, whispering in Bucky's ear, "But I never did well with sunshine."

"Can I talk to you outside?" Sam demands.

You roll your eyes and snort, "If we have to."

"We do."

Sam doesn't waste a single moment. The second you step outside, he points back to the bar, "What the hell was that?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Are you kidding me? I saw you. You were all over him. He's my friend!"

"I was just having a little fun, Sam."

"A little fun?" Sam scoffs. "Are you kidding me?"

You don't allow a single ounce of remorse to show. You don't allow him to see the regret. Your face is purposely blank, cold and uncaring. You were good at this part. You were good at hurting people. It's exactly why you have to let him go. "I don't see what the big deal is, Sam."

"You don't see what the big deal is?" Sam's voice wavers. "You were just coming onto my friend! What about us?"

"What about us?" you scoff. "I was bored, Sam, we had our fun but it's done now. We're not on the run anymore. It's not a big deal."

"Just like that, we're just done?"

"You were there, Sam," you lie through your teeth. Acid churns in your stomach, rising up through your esophagus and coating your every word. "There's nothing more to it, nothing more to us."

You'd done a lot of bad things in your life, but nothing made you feel quite as wretched as watching Sam's heart shatter before you. It was better this way. He didn't know it, but it was for the best. You couldn't ruin his life anymore. You couldn't hurt him if you walked away right now. Those were the last words you ever said to him.

He did it. He couldn't believe it. He'd found you. There you were, standing out on a rooftop, out in the pouring midnight rain. He almost laughs because of course you wouldn't even realize how theatrical this whole scene was. "Do you realize how dramatic it is to be standing out in the pouring rain all by yourself? And without an umbrella?"

"I'm working, Sam."

"Shooting your next romantic comedy? Is this the breakup scene?"

You don't even turn to look at him. “You shouldn’t be here, Sam.”

Sam scoffs, “That’s all you have to say? That I shouldn’t be here?”

“Go home, Sam," you demand. "I don’t want you here.”

“You’re such a jackass, you know that?”

It pisses him off that you still refuse to even look at him. If you were going to break his heart all over again, the least you could do was look him in the eye. You speak through clenched teeth, "I know."

He storms around, planting himself in front of you, forcing you to look at him. "No, I mean that, I really, truly, from the bottom of my heart, I mean that. You're such an asshole. You're one of the most difficult, abrasive, cold, and selfish people I've ever met."

You can't bring yourself to meet his gaze. You look just past him, mustering every ounce of your training to stay stone faced, "I know."

"Do you know how hard it was to find you?"

"I didn't ask you to come here," you spit at him. "I didn't want you to come looking for me. You knew that."

"And you're a liar!" Sam exclaims, a bitter laugh bubbling up from his chest. "A damned good one, too."

"I never lied to you about who or what I was."

"But you did lie, didn't you? You've lied to me before."

“Yes, I have," you softly admit. You catch yourself, reminding yourself of why you're being so harsh with Sam. You force yourself to speak with that venomous tone you know all too well, "Many times, so if you’re done insulting me, I have to go.”

"God, you're so selfish, and- and you're mean! You brood way too much. You're so fucking angsty all the time. You act like the tortured character in every shitty teen movie every made. You're inconsiderate. You don't listen. I swear, talking to you is like talking to a brick wall. And sometimes - sometimes, I want to hate you so much."

It takes everything in you to sound as unaffected as you do. You quirk an eyebrow at him, crossing your arms over your chest, "Is that why you came here? Because you're upset?"

"Upset?" Sam incredulously repeats, taking a step toward you. He's still several feet away from you, still far out of your reach, "No, I'm not upset. I was upset six months ago. Now, I'm angry. I'm pissed off - with you. I have never been so mad at another human being in my entire life."

"I didn't do anything to you. You knew who I was - who I am."

"You think that's why I'm pissed? I'm pissed because you made me like you. I'm pissed that you made me fall so hopelessly in love with you."

For the first time in six months, your eyes find his. His warm eyes, the ones that grounded you through storms of midnight rain. He'd never said he loved you before - there's no taking that back. You suck in a breath, "Sam."

"I'm pissed because I believed you when you said you were bored. But mostly, I'm pissed that I let you go, that I let you walk away without fighting for you."

You try to warn him, beg him to stop before he says something that'll make it too hard to walk away from him. "Sam."

"Because I'm in love with you."

Your voice wavers as you beg him, "Don't do this, Sam."

"I'm in love with you," Sam announces again to his audience of one. "And I know you don't think you're good for me. And I know that it won't be easy, but I am. I am in love with you. Every part of you. Especially the parts you don't like. I like that you're mean, I like that you're tougher than any other person I've ever met, I like that you're grumpy. I like that you don't see how dramatic it is to stand in the pouring rain all by yourself! I love you. I love all of you."

"Sam..." His name leaves your mouth in a whisper. It's too late. You're not strong enough to survive walking away from him. He's doomed himself.

He takes a step closer to you. "And maybe it wasn't real... but I think it was. I think you feel the same." And then another step. And yet another. Until you're face to face, close enough that you could reach out and touch him for the first time in months. The rain beats down on the two of you. The dampness on your cheeks has nothing to do with the rain. "Tell me that you don't love me and I'll leave. Tell me and I won't bother you again, I promise."

You can't. You can't bring yourself to say any of it. "Sam, it'll never work for us. You have to know that."

"We're not at war anymore." His hand skates across your cheek. "We don't have to hide. We don't have to run."

"I'm not - I'm not good, Sam." And you are, you want to say.

“No, no, you’re not good. You’re great. You’re amazing. And it’s a damn shame you haven’t stepped into the daylight long enough to see how incredible you are.”

You jerk your face away from his hand, “And what if I can’t give you what you want? What if I can’t be what you want?”

“What do you know about what I want?”

“You want a bride. You want someone to bring home to your family - that’s not me, Sam. I don’t think that’ll ever be me.”

“I want you." Sam takes your face in between both hands, begging you to see the sincerity in his eyes. "I want you in whatever way you’ll have me.”

“I’m not worth it," you softly exhale. "You have to know that I’m not worth the trouble and the heartache I’ll put you through.”

“Break my heart," Sam offers without hesitation. "Do it over and over again. Do it for the rest of our lives. It’s all yours. You’re worth it.”

“Sam…” You didn’t have any other defense. He’d broken down each and every argument you spent years cultivating. You didn’t know where to go from here.

“Do you love me?” Your lips press into a thin line, eyes squeezing shut to keep the tears welling in your eyes from falling. The rain slows to a halt. His thumb and pointer finger grip your chin, forcing you to meet his warm brown eyes. “Do you love me?”

“I love you.” You don't think you've ever said those words before. You don't think you've ever seen the daylight until you saw him. It'll take time for your eyes to adjust, but he's worth it. "I love you so much it hurts, so much that I let you go."

“You don't have to let me go anymore. We'll figure the rest out together."

Sam Wilson Masterlist AnonymityIsFun Masterlist Inspired By Taylor Swift Masterlist

As always, let me know what you think! Reblogs and comments are always appreciated! 💛

Taglist: @marianita195 @meli18gonzalez@ludicbouquetfromearth@matchat3a@famousbreadcherryblossomsstuff@valoraxx@blue786sworld@buckyandgeraltsupremacy@geminigengar@ansaturn@ecolle@lexhalstead3@ybflkmj@mediocre-daydreams@shanye1112@thegirlnextdoorssister@toomanyfanficsbruh@moonlightreader649@breathtaking-cynthia@mirikusashes@beans-and-toast@niyahcoca@katiechikin@elxvrr@antiheroxsblog@infamouslyclumsy@krissydclayton93@buckysbarne@deadheadwbedhead @qualitygiantshoepsychic@whitexwolfxx310 @getosprettyboy

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writing-for-marvel · 2 years ago

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These are all the fics I've read in May. Please go show all these amazing writers some much deserved love! Also please remember to read the warnings for each individual fic

🔥 - smut | 💗 - fluff I 💧 - angst | 😈 - dark

Dividers by @saradika

Bucky Barnes

🔥 Headstrong by @flordeamatista

💗🔥 Bedtime Story by @jobean12-blog

🔥 Neighbourly Love by @/jobean12-blog

💗 Bucky Barnes x reader by @maivolpe

🔥 Needy by @targaryenvampireslayer

💗🔥 Love From Afar by @bluehourbucky

💗🔥 Bucky makes sure you know you're his first choice by @like-what-the-fuck-scoob

💗 Operation get Mr Bucky and Momma together by @golden-barnes

💗 Dance with the Devil by @rookthorne

💗 Imagine Bucky calling you at work by @lives-in-midgard

💗 Booked on a Feeling by @intrepidacious

💗 Morning Workout by @sparklefics

Steve Rogers

💗🔥 The Thrill of Knowing How Alone We Are by @buckets-and-trees

🔥 Give You a Ride by @sstan-hoe

💧💗 His Radiant Sunflower by @witchywithwhiskey

💗 The Berry Sweetest by @brandycranby

Sam Wilson

💧💗🔥 Haven by @fluffyprettykitty

💗 Surprise by @/targaryenvampireslayer

Adam Warlock

🔥 A-Z NSFW Headcanon by @tom-whore-dleston

🔥 Soft Dom Adam by @inklore

Joaquin Torres

💗🔥 Expression by @/fluffyprettykitty

Bruce Banner

💗 Cuddles are the Cure by @late-to-the-party-81

Ari Levinson

🔥 Like Jello by @/late-to-the-party-81

💧💗 Post-Nightmare Cuddles by @ronearoundblindly

🔥 Like a Broken Record by @howdoyousleep3

Ransom Drysdale

💧 Occupy My Brain by @/intrepidacious

💗🔥 Insomnia by @/brandycranby

💧💗 One Night by @honeybloomss

Andy Barber

🔥 On Your Knees by @flwrsforu

💗 Pros and Cons by @navybrat817

Joel Miller

💗🔥 A Sweeter Place by @/flordeamatista

💧💗🔥 Wild for You by @/jobean12-blog

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mandyyvibes · 11 months ago

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For Reasons Wretched and Divine

Chapter 6: “From Eden.”

Steve Rogers stood on his doorstep, looking at him apologetically. The pretty redhead from that first day they’d met was at his side. They both looked just a little banged up, dusty and bruised.

“Hey, man,” Sam said. It was directed at Steve, more of a question than anything.

“I’m sorry about this. We need a place to lay low.”

@catws-anniversary

#CATWS10 #marvel #marvel fanfiction #ao3 #ao3 author #sam wilson #sam wilson fanfic #sam riley #samriley fic #steve rogers #steve rogers fanfic #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff fanfic #fandom event #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #alexander pierce

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wwilsonbarness · 2 years ago

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masterlist

bucky barnes

sam wilson

sambucky

#wwilsonbarness #masterlist #wwilsonbarness masterlist #sambucky #samwilson #sam wilson x bucky barnes #bucky barnes #winterfalcon #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x reader #sam wilson x y/n #marvel #anthony mackie #sebastian stan #bucky barnes fanfic #sam wilson fanfic #sambucky fanfic #captain america #winter soldier

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sweetcocopowder · 9 months ago

Note

For your milestone can i order a sambucky heart fill confess with the prompts, another nightmare and can i kiss you.

I found your blog recently from the cyberpunk fics so to know you also write mcu stuff is rad. ✌️ you write excellently man.

Prompt 5 | SamBucky

Synopsis: Bucky wakes from a nightmare and Sam is there to help him through it.

Word Count: 1.8K

Warnings: Trauma.

Notes: thank you so much. i haven't written Sambucky stuff in ages but i reckon i cooked up something fucking gawd.

For once in Sam’s life, he was the only one up in the shared apartment. It’s quiet in the place but New York never sleeps as everyone says. Which is true. The hum of cars can be heard through the shutters and the thin walls. It’s small, but it’s comfortable. And cheap enough because hero work doesn’t really pay the best. Or at all.

It had taken a lot of convincing to make the former Winter Soldier move in with him. Bucky had been struggling with keeping his apartment. Rent in the great city of New York isn’t cheap. And being in between transfers with his veteran payments, he isn’t all too finically stable. It’s a lot of court cases to convince the Government that he isn’t going to go deadly assassin again after his time in Wakanda.

Sam nurses a two-litre bottle of orange juice, chugging down as much as he can. He knows for a fact that Bucky will want some of the stuff in the morning, but he couldn’t give too damns at the moment. The bastard ate his leftover muffins that Sarah had given him. So, this is pay back. Even though Bucky didn’t know Sam was keeping those aside for himself. Orange juice can be bought. Sarah’s muffins can’t be made.

At first, the muffled shout that hits Sam’s ears is soft enough that he thinks it’s some crack job outside. Shouting about random shit or that Thanos is upon them again. But when the next shout comes, Sam is quick to put down the juice.

He walks to Bucky’s door a little too urgently for his own good. No more noise comes, but he already has a feeling that Bucky has woken himself up. He hesitates to knock, his knuckles hovering over the wood.

He’s aware of Bucky’s nightmares. The ones that don’t seem to leave no matter how much he talks about them or opens up. Some things don’t leave. Especially with the shit that Bucky has gone through in his life. He can’t blame the man and he doesn’t judge him for it either. Sam finally knocks, softly as to not scare the century old man.

“Bucky?” Sam calls just loud enough to be heard through the door.

There’s shuffling on the other side before the door opens up a tad. The New York lights shine in through open windows, illuminating Bucky as a dark shadow peeping through a hand width crack. Even in the dark though, Sam can deep just how tired Bucky is. His short hair spikes up every which way and he only wears a bear of boxers.

“Why are you up?” Bucky asks with a furrowed expression.

“Couldn’t sleep,” Sam lies. “Another nightmare?”

The vet looks Sam up and down, but not in a threatened way. There’s so much going on his mind right now that Sam can almost hear his thoughts. He opens the door a little further, looking past Sam to try and figure out just why he’s up so late. It’s close to two in the morning.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Sam asks as he leans against the door frame.

This isn’t out of the norm. Getting stuff like this out of Bucky was almost like dealing with a child at first. But Sam had patience and it won over. He hasn’t done a group therapy with other soldiers dealing with their own ptsd in months. But he thinks he’s alright at the moment with helping Bucky. It makes him feel full. Despite how odd that sounds.

Bucky’s eyes flicker to the ground for a moment before he opens the door wider. He lets Sam in with a grumbled, “Come in then.” He doesn’t close the door fully, leaving it open a crack.

Sam makes himself at home by sitting on the edge of the bed and leaning over to turn on the lamp. Bucky throws on a random white shirt from the ground before sitting on the bed as well. He places his face in his palms, his Vibranium arm reflecting light from the bedside lamp. Sam doesn’t pay it any attention, the awe having worn off ages ago.

“Was it the train again?” Sam asks.

“No,” Bucky shakes his head.

Sam hesitates before asking the next question. He’s read over Bucky’s reports once. Once and never again. He knows from the reports on what experimentations Hydra had put the soldier through. But hearing the stories from Bucky’s lips is enough to make Sam feel nauseous.

“Do you remember the year?” Sam asks.

He’s realized that in asking so, it seems to help ground Bucky. His memories of going in and out of cryo are so jumbled and hazy that he didn’t realize just how many years he was losing.

“I-“ Bucky pauses, “I couldn’t tell you.”

“What happened this time round?”

The vet sits up straight but doesn’t dare make eye contact with Sam. He tries to smooth out his hair but it’s too no avail. It sticks up every which way, as if his hair is still not use to being so short.

“I’ve told you how I was used to train the other super soldiers. The ones that hydra made after me,” Bucky asks rhetorically before he continues on. “There was this one in particular, I forget his name now. Gone with everything else. But he wouldn’t listen. Didn’t understand that there was no way out of this.”

“You got out,” Sam interrupts.

Bucky’s icy eyes finally glance his way. “After how many years?”

Sam only hums at that, not sure how to answer. He waits for Bucky to continue, his gaze never leaving him.

“Then finally one training session,” Bucky endures as he hunches back over, twiddling his thumbs between his knees, “he snapped. He came at me with blood lust. And with everything that was pent up, and with me being worn down and just so damn tired from all the work… he easily overcame me. He beat me bloody. Beyond bloody even. I can still remember the pain, the bruises that didn’t leave for months afterwards. Even with the serum in me, my wounds didn’t heal for weeks,” Bucky voices cracks here and there as he tries to cover it up with clearing his throat.

But Sam can see the memory playing as freshly as if it’s happening now behind those pale blue eyes. A shiver runs down Bucky’s spine, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end.

Sam frowns, exhaling slowly before reaching out and places a hand on the vet’s shoulder. Bucky doesn’t flinch away, instead looks to Sam like a hurt street pup.

“That pain is in the past,” Sam enquires softly. “Nothing can change that. But maybe you’re holding onto it because it’s familiar. Or because you thought you did something wrong. Maybe because you thought you could keep that man in line.”

Bucky exhales shakily, his gaze becoming long once again. “That’s the thing. I did set him in line at the end. They- They made me-” he clears his throat, looking back down at his twiddling thumbs. “They made me put him down like some dog, Sam.”

“So you think you didn’t do him just?” Sam asks, squeezing Bucky’s shoulder.

The soldier shrugs softly. “I’m not sure on that. Is it bad that I think it’s more just putting him down than allowing him to become Hydra’s little plaything?”

Sam is quiet for a heartbeat, not wanting to stay silent for too long. “No. But at the same time, I don’t think you should hold yourself accountable because you were both under Hydra’s thumb. Both being played a game you didn’t you head or tail of.”

“Doesn’t change the fact I did it,” Bucky grumbles.

“But it’s the fact that you’re trying to do better on top of that, Buck.”

Bucky glances at Sam, opening his mouth to snap at him for calling him that. But he stops himself, his gaze flickering off again. A taxi horn honks loudly outside, but neither of them pays it any attention.

“Look,” Sam squeezes Bucky’s shoulder again before sliding down and grabbing onto his forearm gently. “Those things you did. That person you were. Is all gone now. Wakanda made sure of that. There’s only Bucky.”

The vet looks to Sam’s hand on his arm, a sad look coming to his eyes. But he receives a soft, sweet smile that warms Sam’s heart. He’s won tonight. Even if it’s a little victory, he’s won.

“You’re too sweet on me, Sam,” Bucky mumbles.

It seems so out of character yet not at the same time. Sam raises a brow at him, waiting for him to continue on with what else is on his mind. A warm, metal hand is placed over his own instead and Sam can feel his heart skip a beat. But he collects himself quickly.

It’s hard though when Bucky looks at him like that. With a soft smile on his lips and his warm yet icy gaze looking directly at him. He’s always had a staring problem, but Sam’s never been truly bothered by it. The soldier that Sam always sees is gone in this moment. It’s just the Bucky he’s grown to know that’s under all the fucked up shit.

“I’m going to ask you something stupid right now,” Bucky says, his voice low and barely a whisper. But Sam hears it all the same in the night.

“Go right ahead,” Sam blurts out a little too quickly.

Bucky turns to Sam a little bit more, squeezing his hand in the process.

“This might be one sided but I’ve lived too long to care,” Bucky chuckles breathlessly to himself, as if what he’s just said his humorous. Sam can’t take his eyes off him, swallowing a thick lump in his throat. “Can I, kiss you?”

Sam short circuits, staring blankly at Bucky for a tad too long. He feels his heart skip a beat again, as if he’s about to have a heart attacked or something, blinking a few times a tad shocked. The vet sighs deeply, pulling away his hand from Sam’s.

“I’m sorry,” Bucky says as he looks down.

But Sam snaps out of it, grabbing onto his Vibranium arm to draw Bucky closer. He crashes their lips together a little too harshly, but he doesn’t care. He doesn’t know what’s taken a hold of him, but having this, flag waving above their heads now saying it’s the all go is all Sam needed. The kiss is warm and everything Sam would have expected.

He’s seen the little flirts and flashes of who Bucky use to be in the 40’s. He’s heard Steve talk about him from before he got all jacked with super serum. And Bucky doesn’t disappoint.

Bucky pulls away first with a breathless chuckle. He holds onto Sam’s hand tightly, as if he’s afraid he’ll run away from him. But Sam is still as stiff as ice, frozen in place as he looks to Bucky as if this isn’t real. If it was this easy to shut Sam up at times he would have done this much, much sooner.

Hope your enjoyed this ;)

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