#Sam wilson x reader

[wannabespacesmuggler]

PLATONIC ➵ S. WILSON

Masterlist | Buy me a coffee

Summary: Bucky has no idea how two people who have known each other for two decades can be so blind to their feelings for one another. At first, it was somewhat comical, the two of you dancing around your obvious attraction for one another, but Bucky has grown tired of pretending that your relationship is strictly platonic.

Pairing: Sam Wilson x Reader

Warnings: FLUFF (some angst if you squint), mutual pining, mentions of Riley (CA:TWS), Bucky meddling in your relationship, mentions of the Blip, alcohol consumption, Reader and Sam being two oblivious idiots in love, no use of y/n

Word Count: 3.8k

Song Inspo: "Platonic" by Ryan Hurd

Author’s Note: So, I saw Brave New World in February and haven't been able to stop thinking about Sam Wilson since. The x Reader tag for my boy is absolutely lacking so I decided to write something for my cap. Hope you guys enjoy some good ole Sam Wilson fluff. Let me know what you guys think and if you have any Sam Wilson x Reader recs on tumblr. Please, I'm desperate.

“You know you could just ask him out, right?”

You choke down your beer, nearly spitting it out as Bucky speaks up beside you. The two of you have been quietly sitting shoulder-to-shoulder at the shitty, hole-in-the-wall Irish pub that Sam insists on frequenting whenever all three of you are in D.C. at the same time. The little tradition had started as a coping mechanism after the three of you were blipped back into existence. You remember Sam begging you to accompany him to O’Malley’s the first time. And you remember sitting between your best friend and Bucky Barnes — it looked almost comical, an ex-Hydra assassin, a former Air Force pilot, and the newly named Captain America drinking a beer together. At first, you thought that Sam had asked you to come as a way to get you out of your house after everything that happened, but as the three of you sat in uncomfortable silence together, you realized that Sam brought you as a buffer. In all the years you’ve known the charismatic Sam Wilson, you never met someone he couldn’t talk to.

And then you met James Buchanan Barnes. 

Unlike Sam, you quickly fell into a cordial friendship with Bucky once you broke the ice. He’s both headstrong and cocky but also observant and aloof. People who meet him in passing might comment on how quiet he is, but you know he’s incredibly opinionated — hell, you made the mistake of commenting about baseball during your trio’s second outing together and had to listen to the man complain about the Brooklyn Dodgers moving to LA for a good thirty minutes. But what really bonded you with Bucky was Sam. You know that when Bucky looks at Sam, he sees what Steve saw in him — the man that Captain America decided was worthy of his mantle. 

He reminds you of Riley in many ways, and that’s why Sam had a more challenging time getting on board with the three of you hanging out together at first. Because for so long, it was just you, Sam, and Riley. You met Sam at boot camp, and then you met Riley shortly after. The three of you ran pararescue missions together — Sam and Riley clad in Exo-7 flight suits while you manned the C-130, which, thanks to a big government contract with Stark Industries, integrated cloaking systems and environmental blending. Then, on a routine mission, Riley got shot out of the sky, and suddenly it was just you and Sam. Sam became a PTSD veteran counselor, you got a piloting job with SHIELD stationed in D.C. to stay close to him, and then the two of you became regulars at O’Malley’s due to its proximity to both of your apartments. A part of Sam was afraid that he was replacing Riley by inviting Bucky into the space you share with him, but he had made a promise to Steve before he’d gone back in time with the infinity stones. And slowly but surely, the two became close friends, bonding over shared military stories, their musical tastes, and their deep respect and adoration for you. 

“What the hell are you talking about?”

Bucky scoffs at your question before taking another swig of his beer. He knows you’re playing dumb — the two of you have been participating in this same song and dance for the better part of a year now. Two months into regularly drinking with Sam and Bucky at O’Malley’s, you drunkenly confessed to Bucky that you harbor feelings for your best friend. He pretended to be shocked, but he knew about your little secret after first meeting with you and Sam. Bucky may be a tad out of touch with new social norms — the man hasn’t participated in the dating scene since the 1940s — but the act of pining hasn’t changed over the decades that have passed. 

“We’re just going to pretend you haven’t been brooding all night after Sam got whisked away by those girls?”

You roll your eyes at Bucky’s question. The annoyance weaved into your expression doesn’t come from a place of malice but instead draws from your frustration at how well Bucky understands you. Sam will always be your best friend, but Bucky has become something like a brother to you over the past year — an empty role in your life since Riley passed away. And after all, Bucky is an older brother — a protector — at his core. He may have lost his little sister a lifetime ago, but the instincts were still there, buried deep down until you and Sam showed up in his life.

“Brooding is your thing, Buck.”

“Exactly. So, can you stop stepping on my shoes?”

A smile tugs at your lips as Bucky playfully nudges you with his elbow. You know he’s trying to lighten the mood, and his humor has made you feel a little lighter; however, there’s still a gnawing in the pit of your stomach as you watch one of the girls slowly slide their hand down Sam’s arm. Bucky follows your gaze and lets out a tired sigh.

“Seriously, kid. What’s stopping you from just asking him out?”

“He’s my best friend, Buck.”

Bucky arches a brow at your reasoning. You say it as if it’s the answer to all of your heartache — as if it’s a valid excuse to hold yourself back from happiness. He has no idea how two people who have known each other for two decades can be so blind to their feelings for one another. At first, it was somewhat comical, the two of you dancing around your obvious attraction for one another, but Bucky has grown tired of pretending that your relationship is strictly platonic. He’s been trying to intervene, but whenever you think about confessing your feelings to Sam, you immediately talk yourself out of it. And Sam isn’t any better. Bucky’s tried to talk some sense into him at least a dozen times, but he’s sure you don’t feel the same way about him.

“I could always set you up with one of my friends.”

“I’m fairly certain you only have two friends, and they’re currently at this bar, Buck.”

Bucky rolls his eyes as he finishes his beer. 

“Believe it or not, I do have a life outside of you and Sam.”

He places the empty bottle on the counter along with a five-dollar bill before layering his leather jacket over his long-sleeve t-shirt. It’s a mild spring day, but you know he doesn’t wear the extra layers for warmth. They’re worn for the same reason as his leather gloves — security that his shiny, metal arm is covered. Bucky spares Sam one last glance before turning his attention back to you. You’re nursing the beer in your hand, simply waiting for Sam to notice you again. He gently grabs your shoulder with his good hand, and Bucky’s heart breaks in his chest as you look up at him with sad eyes.

“Just think about it, okay?”

You nod at his question, and Bucky releases his hold before heading home for the night. With a sigh, you finish your lukewarm beer and order another while waiting patiently for your best friend. Sam Wilson has always been the life of the party — the man who shines like a ray of sunlight even on the darkest days. But the Captain America mantle came with a newfound attention that Sam seems to revel in. You, however, find yourself struggling with it — it had been just the two of you for so long, and now you feel like you’re sharing him with all of America. 

But little do you know that even now, with the entire bar vying for his attention, Sam feels drawn to you like some invisible string is pulling him back. His eyes scan the crowd at O’Malley’s until they find you. He gives you a bright, genuine smile — the kind that leaves you grinning from ear to ear. You watch as he excuses himself from the lively conversation and approaches you. He slides into the seat beside you, shoulder bumping against yours as he leans into your space to grab the beer in front of you. You shoot him a playful glare as he takes a drink out of your beer bottle, and he winks at you in response. He places the bottle back in front of you before speaking.

“Bucky already left?”

“You know the old man — has to be home before bedtime.”

Sam laughs while throwing an arm back across your chair. You don’t even think twice about the action; Sam’s done it at least a thousand times at this point.

“Are you ready to get out of here?”

You give him an eager nod, desperate to get some fresh air. Sam laughs at your reaction before paying both of your tabs. Like in the bar, you don’t think twice as Sam slings his arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his side as you walk down the streets of the nation’s capital. Not even as he walks up the five flights of stairs with you to your apartment, unlocking the door with the key you gave him ages ago. Not even as he moves through your apartment as if it were his, opening your fridge to grab two beers and rifling through your junk drawer to find the bottle opener he knows is in there. Not even as Sam falls asleep on your couch again after a night of talking for hours. You don’t think twice because this is how it’s always been between you and Sam — it’s always been comfortable, domestic. 

But, for some reason, tonight is different. As you sit on your kitchen counter, finishing your beer, Sam’s loud snores from your living room are drowned out by Bucky’s words from earlier this evening ringing in your ears. This is what your life has always looked like, but is this all it will be — waiting for your slice of Sam’s increasingly divided time? You’re happy for him. Truly. Sam deserves everything that the mantle of Captain America comes with — the attention, the popularity, the spotlight. You’re overjoyed that the world is finally seeing what you’ve seen in Sam all along, but a small part of you is jealous. And that jealousy is starting to eat you alive. 

You sigh, downing the last of your beer before sliding your phone out of your pocket. Scrolling through your contacts, you find Bucky’s name. You listen to the phone ring twice before Bucky answers your call. Concern is evident in his voice as he says your name. You rarely call him this late, but you know you’d talk yourself out of this in the morning. 

“I’ll do it, Buck. Set up the date.”

“It’s about time, kid.”

You spend the rest of your agonizingly slow week second-guessing that phone call. Hell, you almost call Bucky at least a dozen times to cancel the date altogether — to simply state that Bucky’s advice is ridiculous and you’re perfectly fine with your current situation. But, ultimately, you decide this is for the best. If your goal is to get over your absurd crush on Sam Wilson, then you actually need to start working on it. So, even though you’ve managed to worry yourself sick on Friday, you still manage to get yourself ready that evening and leave your apartment. A small smile pulls at your lips as you stand outside the address Bucky texted you several days prior. You’re thankful he chose a casual ramen spot for the blind date. It makes the whole experience a little less high stakes — like you could leave at any time with limited consequences. 

With an exasperated sigh, you finally bite the bullet and pull open the door to the small establishment. The bell above you rings, and you’re greeted by a friendly man behind the counter, telling you to sit wherever you want. You turn towards the quaint dining room and, to your surprise, see a familiar figure sitting at one of the tables. Sam Wilson looks just as surprised as you feel. Your feet move on their own accord as you approach your best friend. He looks nice — clad in a maroon polo and his nicest pair of jeans. 

“What are you doing here, Sam?”

You found it strange that you never received your weekly text from Sam asking you about your Friday night plans. But you concluded that either Bucky told him about your blind date or Sam planned a date for that evening as well. But this was an outcome you never expected.

“Bucky set me up on a blind date with one of his friends.”

Your brow furrows at Sam’s confession.

“Bucky set me up on a blind date with one of his friends.”

Sam looks at you as if you’re speaking a different language, and embarrassment washes over you as you realize that you’re right: Bucky Barnes only has two friends, and they’re currently looking at each other stupidly in a family-owned Ramen joint. Anger rushes through your veins as the realization sets in, but Sam still looks dumbfounded.

“So, Bucky set us up on a date.”

“Oh.”

You wait for him to continue, but he just sits at his empty table, at a loss for words. Usually, the silence between the two of you is comfortable; however, right now, it's excruciating. You suddenly feel about two inches tall as you stand before Sam. As the room gets twenty degrees warmer and the walls begin closing in, you decide it’s probably best if you get out of here. 

“This was a stupid idea.”

You turn away from Sam, but before you can take a step towards the door, he grabs your hand. The contact causes you to look back at your best friend, whose gaze is surprisingly tender. Your body relaxes ever so slightly, and, against your better judgment, your hand tightens around his. 

“It doesn’t have to be.”

His tone is genuine, but there’s still that voice in the back of your head gnawing at you. There’s no way that your best friend suddenly wants to go on a date with you. That shit doesn’t happen in real life. This isn’t a movie — he hasn’t been waiting almost two decades for this exact moment to express his feelings for you. You keep your expectations low because although Sam is a superhero, this isn’t a fairytale. Still, you let him gently tug your body into the seat across from him. 

“You don’t have to do this, Sam.”

Sam’s brow furrows, and a look of genuine confusion washes over his features. He studies you for a moment before speaking. 

“You think I don’t want to go on a date with you?”

You roll your eyes at his question. This whole conversation is ridiculous, and it’s beginning to feel like Sam and Bucky are pulling a practical joke on you right now. But Sam looks at you expectantly, waiting for your answer, so you play along even though you aren’t happy about it.

“C’mon, Sam.”

Sam simply arches a brow at you with a bewildered expression, and for a moment, your resolve falters. What if this is real? What if this isn’t some stupid joke between Sam and Bucky? What’s the harm in just letting this moment play out? With a sigh, you look up at Sam, who is still studying your features. 

“Sam, I’m pretty certain that if you were interested in me at any point in the last twenty years, you’d have asked me out by now.”

Sam huffs out a laugh at this, and suddenly, he looks embarrassed. This reaction confuses you. Sam is a confident man — he’s rarely self-conscious about himself or his decisions. 

“Yeah, about that…”

Your heart lurches in your chest as he trails off, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly as he tries to find the right words. And as he meets your eyes, there’s an emotion in his gaze that you can’t quite place. 

“What is it, Sam?”

Sam sighs before speaking.

“This isn’t just platonic for me.”

Suddenly, your world comes to a screeching halt. This feels like an out-of-body experience — like some sort of dream — and you’re pretty sure if you pinched yourself right now, you’d wake up alone in your apartment. But that doesn’t happen. You’re really here with Sam, having this conversation.

“How long have you felt like that?”

Sam looks away from you as he thinks for a moment, wanting to give you an accurate answer.

“After we helped Steve with Hydra in D.C., seeing you in the hospital put things into perspective.”

You were working as a SHIELD pilot for almost two years when Sam went missing with SHIELD’s two most wanted fugitives: Steve Rogers and Natasha Romanoff. Because of this, it didn’t take much convincing for you to ignore your orders and help Steve stop the launch of the helicarriers. Bucky, acting as the Winter Soldier at the time, had taken out most of SHIELD’s air support; however, you and a group of four other pilots managed to get your birds into the air. Although the stakes were high, a part of you felt like it was old times — watching Sam soar through the air in his Exo-7 flight suit from the cockpit of your F-35 Lightning II. The fight was going well until Bucky nailed your left wing with a large piece of debris, causing you to go into a downward tailspin. You attempted to stabilize your aircraft but ran out of time. So, you decided to pull your parachute, but to your horror, the cord was stuck. Sam, grounded due to his broken wings, watched helplessly as your fighter slammed into the Potomac River. You were found by search and rescue after the helicarriers were destroyed and woke up in a hospital bed three days later. Recovery was agonizingly slow, but Sam never left your side — except to check on Steve every so often in the room next to yours. The memory brings a small, sad smile to your face.

“That was ten years ago, Sam. What stopped you from telling me?”

“Other than everything that happened after that? You’re my best friend — I didn’t want to risk that.”

You suppose he’s right. There was rarely a moment of downtime after you recovered from your fall into the Potomac River. The two of you immediately threw yourselves into helping Steve track down Bucky, and just two years later, all four of you were wanted fugitives due to the Sokovia Accords. Between the years you spent living on the run and the years you lost to the blip, there was rarely a quiet moment until Thanos was finally defeated — until now. 

“For me, it was after Riley.”

Sam’s eyebrows shot up at your confession, obviously not expecting for you to have fallen first. But, despite his excitement at this revelation, he stays quiet, letting you continue if you want.

“After losing him, I couldn’t help imagining it being you who got shot down that day. The idea haunted me in my nightmares, and I realized that if I lost you, it would be a different kind of grief.” 

Sam’s face softens, and he reaches across the table for your hand. He wraps his hand tightly around yours, grounding you back into this moment before speaking.

“You never have to worry about losing me.”

You scoff at his words, giving him an incredulous look.

“You’re Captain America, Sam. Running head first into danger is your job.”

“Okay, fair. But I have a very compelling reason to stay alive.”

You laugh, attempting to cover up how flustered you feel due to Sam’s words. It doesn’t work. Sam smiles as he notices the effect his words have on you. He could get used to this — flirting with you until you’re bright red and stumbling over your words. It’s undeniably cute, and he can’t believe it’s taken him this long to do it. 

After your emotionally charged conversation, you both need something to eat. The two of you both order ramen, and Sam doesn’t let go of your hand until two bowls are set down on the table. You enjoy your meal while Sam occasionally nudges his knee playfully into yours under the table before offering you a flirtatious smile. The conversation that flows between you doesn’t feel forced or uncomfortable — it feels both familiar and somehow brand new. The two of you had been navigating the grey area between romantic and platonic for so long that it feels almost liberating to look at Sam and know his true intentions. 

After Sam pays the bill, giving the establishment's owner a generous tip, the two of you fall into step with one another as you walk toward your apartment. The walk isn’t drastically different from the thousands you’ve taken before. Sam still slings his arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his side — except this time, you move your hand up and intertwine your fingers. He still walks up the stairs with you to your apartment, unlocking the door with the key you gave him ages again — except this time, he leads you by the hand up all five flights. And he still moves through your apartment as if it were his, opening your fridge to grab two beers and rifling through your junk drawer to find the bottle opener he knows is in there — except this time, as he places the beers behind you, he doesn’t move away. Instead, he keeps his hands on the counter, one on either side of your body, caging you in. His expression is soft, illuminated by the lone fluorescent light in your small kitchen. And there’s an adoration in his gaze that makes you feel lighter than air.

Steve’s words, from what feels like a lifetime ago, ring in your ears as you look up at Sam Wilson, who stands just a breath away: "As the world's expert on waiting too long, don't."

Tired of waiting, you grab Sam by the front of his polo and pull him into you, locking your lips with his as your chests bump into each other. It’s not a picture-perfect kiss; it’s a little sloppy and frantic, but it’s the type that makes up for the twenty years you spent dancing around your feelings for one another. Eventually, you break away from each other. Sam rests his forehead against yours, and the brightest smile you’ve ever seen graces his face — the man looks like sunshine incarnate as he studies your features.

“I should have done that ten years ago.”

The laugh that escapes you is melodic — a goddamn symphony to Sam’s ears. And he can’t help but kiss you again. And again. And again. In an attempt to make up for lost time and to prove to you, this was never just platonic. 

[x-press-it-reblogs]

As in: Can't reblog fast enough This made me feel things Sam Wilson <3 I needed that I'm gonna read it over and over! Thank you so much T^T

Heyo/

I've been away from my socials and just saw the valentine chalenge... but there is no Sam Wilson T^T

Could I still request a Long Distance Relationship between Sam and a female reader pretty please?

Something like she's currently working on a huge project, like opening her company and she needs to be abroad, in Europe, to get a diploma or something? Maybe she's a pastry chef and she's in Paris.

They've been friends for a long time, maybe not seeing eachother much but they used to talk on the phone or text a lot, but now, with the time difference they keep missing each other, not being able to connect and they both realize on each side of the world that there is more to their relationship than just friendship?

Thank you✒️

HOME

⤷ SAM T. WILSON

ᯓ★ Pairing: Sam T. Wilson x fem!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: romance, some angst but fluff

ᯓ★ Word count: 7k

ᯓ★ Summary: you and Sam are close friends, and you try to make your friendship survive even as you move to Paris to follow your dream...Will things between you two be okay?

ᯓ★ TW(s): nothing

ᯓ★ I should definitely add more sam to my games...

ᯓ★ Love is in the air - Valentine's Day special game

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ MARVEL Multiverse - choose an AU, pair it with your favorite character and make a request!

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language

You stand at the edge of the airport terminal, your luggage at your side, feeling the weight of the moment settle in your chest. It’s a strange feeling, this kind of departure, one that’s both thrilling and heartbreaking. You’ve spent so many years building up to this, a chance to work under one of the best pastry chefs in the world, a chance to hone your craft in Paris, and yet, leaving behind everything you’ve built here—especially the friendship you’ve built with Sam—makes your heart feel heavy.

You glance at your phone, the clock ticking closer to your flight time. Sam is still nowhere to be seen. You try not to let the nervousness eat away at you, but it’s hard when you know that this could be the last time you see him for a while. You’ve tried to pretend that it’s no big deal, that it’s just a job opportunity, but deep down you know the truth: it’s not just about the job. It’s about leaving the one person who’s always been there for you, who’s always had your back, the one person who’s made you laugh when you thought you couldn’t anymore.

A shadow falls over you, and you look up to see him standing there. Sam. His smile is warm, but there’s something about the way his eyes flicker between your face and the ground that tells you he’s trying to hide his feelings too.

“You made it,” he says, his voice a little too casual. He rubs the back of his neck, the familiar gesture that lets you know he’s nervous.

You can’t help but smile, despite the lump in your throat. “Of course, I made it. I’m not backing out now.”

Sam chuckles, though it’s not the usual laugh you’re used to. It sounds like he’s trying to cover up something. You’ve always known when Sam’s hiding something, and right now, he’s hiding the same thing you’re hiding—the way this feels.

“I’m really proud of you, you know?” he says, his eyes softening as they meet yours.

You blink, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks. You know that Sam has always supported your dreams, but hearing it right now, just before you leave, hits you in a way you didn’t expect. “Thanks, Sam,” you reply quietly, your voice thick. “That means a lot.”

A brief silence falls between you two, neither of you quite knowing what to say next. The finality of the moment is settling in, and neither of you seems ready to face it.

“So, this is really happening,” Sam says after a beat, trying to lighten the mood, but there’s an edge to his voice now, one you recognize from the past. It’s the edge that comes when he’s trying to mask his vulnerability with humor.

You nod, trying to sound confident even though your heart is beating so hard you think it might break through your chest. “Yeah, I’m going to Paris. It’s just for a year, Sam. I’ll be back.”

He looks at you for a long moment, his brows furrowed. “A year’s a long time,” he murmurs, the quietness of his voice striking you.

You bite your lip, not knowing how to reassure him. You want to tell him that everything’s going to be fine, that it’s just a temporary thing, but there’s a voice in the back of your head telling you it might not be. A year could turn into longer. You could fall in love with Paris. You could fall in love with the life you’ve dreamed of.

And then there’s Sam. Your best friend. The one person who has always been there for you through thick and thin. The one person who’s never judged you, even when you’ve made mistakes. The one person who knows you better than anyone else.

“I’ll miss you,” you finally say, your voice so soft it almost feels like you’re saying it to yourself.

His gaze sharpens, and he steps a little closer, his presence grounding you in a way only he can. “I’ll miss you too,” he replies quietly, his voice almost unreadable.

It’s the way he says it that gets to you, the way it makes your chest ache, like he’s holding something back. Something more than just friendship.

“I wish you didn’t have to go,” Sam continues, his voice low, but there’s something in it now. A vulnerability you weren’t expecting. “But I know this is your dream. I just… I don’t want things to change between us.”

You swallow hard. You’ve always known that your relationship with Sam was complicated. There were moments when the lines between friendship and something more blurred, but you’d never dared to cross them. Not with Sam. Not when everything between you two felt so natural, so easy. But now, with him standing here, his words hanging in the air between you like a heavy fog, you can’t help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, there was something more there all along.

“You know things will change,” you whisper, your voice barely audible over the buzz of the airport. “We can’t pretend like they won’t.”

“I know,” Sam says, his voice tight, “but I don’t want to lose what we have.”

You stare at him for a long moment, your heart racing. There’s something in the air now, something that’s shifted, something that feels almost fragile, like if either of you say the wrong thing, it will all break apart.

You open your mouth to say something, but your flight is called over the PA system before you can speak. You glance at the screen, and then at Sam. He’s standing there, his eyes wide, his body rigid as if he’s afraid of what will happen if he lets go. He’s afraid of what comes next.

“I guess this is it,” you say, feeling a lump form in your throat. Your fingers twitch at your sides, desperate to hold onto something, to hold onto him, but you don’t know how.

Sam steps forward, then hesitates, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. “I don’t want it to be.”

His words catch you off guard, and you find yourself blinking rapidly, trying to fight back the tears that are threatening to spill over. You look away quickly, not wanting him to see how affected you are. Not wanting him to see how much you’re struggling with this too.

“Well, I’ll be back,” you finally say, your voice wavering. “I’ll be back, Sam. I promise.”

Sam doesn’t say anything at first, but you can feel his gaze on you, like he’s trying to memorize every inch of you before you leave. “Yeah,” he finally mutters, his voice thick with emotion. “I’ll be waiting for you.”

The words hit you harder than you expect, and you have to swallow hard to keep yourself together. You nod quickly, backing away as your flight time gets closer.

“Take care of yourself, Sam,” you say softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

He doesn’t respond immediately, but when he does, it’s with that same familiar warmth. “You too.”

You turn to leave, but before you take more than a few steps, you hear him call your name. You glance back over your shoulder, your heart racing.

“Yeah?” you ask, your voice unsure.

Sam’s face is a mixture of emotions, a little sad, a little unsure, but most of all, he looks like he’s holding onto something—something he’s afraid to say.

But instead of words, he just reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small box. He walks toward you quickly, holding it out between you two. It’s a simple wooden box, nothing extravagant, but it holds a weight to it that makes your breath catch.

“What’s this?” you ask, surprised, reaching for it.

Sam hesitates for a moment, like he’s debating whether to give it to you or not, before he presses it into your hand. “Open it when you get there. If you need a reminder of home,” he says, his voice thick with meaning. “A reminder that I’ll be here when you come back.”

You open the box slowly, your hands trembling. Inside, nestled in velvet, is a small charm bracelet. It’s simple but elegant, with a few charms on it—one of a plane, another of a heart, and a third of a small pastry bag. You stare at it for a moment, your mind racing, your chest tight as you realize the meaning behind each charm. The plane for your journey, the heart for the love and friendship you share, and the pastry bag for the dream you’re about to pursue.

You look up at Sam, your eyes filled with gratitude and something else—something you’re not ready to face. “I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything,” Sam replies softly, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. “Just promise me you’ll wear it, okay? That way, no matter where you are, I’m with you.”

You nod, unable to speak, feeling the tears welling up in your eyes again. This moment is harder than you ever thought it would be. Sam looks like he wants to say more, but he doesn’t. He just stands there, watching you, his expression a mix of pride and sadness.

With one last glance, you turn and make your way to the gate, the charm bracelet warm against your wrist as you leave. You’re not sure what the future holds—whether you’ll return the same, whether things between you and Sam will change—but one thing is certain: no matter where life takes you, Sam will always be a part of it.

And with that thought, you step forward, into the unknown.

The moment you step out of Charles de Gaulle Airport, the Parisian air greets you with a crispness that feels unfamiliar but exhilarating. The city moves at a different rhythm than what you're used to—faster, more purposeful, yet somehow effortless. People pass by in elegant coats and scarves, their conversations a mix of rapid French and laughter. The scent of fresh bread lingers in the air, mingling with the faint chill of early morning.

This is it. You're really here.

Your apartment is small but charming, tucked away in a quiet street near your new workplace, a prestigious patisserie that has been on your dream list for years. The first few days are a whirlwind—meeting your new colleagues, adjusting to the kitchen’s pace, getting lost on the metro more times than you care to admit. You should be exhausted, overwhelmed, but instead, you feel alive. Like you're exactly where you're meant to be.

But no matter how busy the days get, there’s always a moment when your thoughts drift back to Sam.

Your phone buzzes while you’re unpacking, and you don’t even have to check to know who it is.

Sam: Landed yet? Sam: Wait, of course you landed, that was hours ago. Are you alive? Have the French kidnapped you? You: Yes, I’m alive. No kidnappings. Just settling in. Sam: Good. I was about to hop on a plane and rescue you. You: From what exactly? A really good croissant? Sam: Hey, you joke, but I’ve seen some pastries that look too perfect to be trusted. Be careful.

You laugh, shaking your head. It’s only been a day, and already, he makes the distance feel smaller.

As the week progresses, your routine falls into place—early mornings at the patisserie, long hours perfecting techniques, late-night walks along the Seine when the city is quiet and glowing with golden light. But no matter how much Paris tries to pull you in, there’s always a part of your day reserved for Sam.

At night, when exhaustion weighs down your limbs, you prop your phone against a stack of cookbooks and video call him. The first time you do it, he picks up immediately, his face appearing on the screen with that easy smile that always makes you feel at home.

“Hey, look who survived their first week in Paris.”

“Barely,” you say, stretching your arms over your head. “I think my chef wants to kill me. But in an elegant French way.”

Sam chuckles. “What does that mean? He insults you with a fancy accent?”

“More like he stares at me in deep disappointment while saying mon dieu under his breath.”

“Sounds terrifying.”

“Oh, absolutely.”

These late-night calls become your anchor. No matter how far you are, how much the city around you changes, Sam is always there, steady as ever. Some nights, you talk for hours about nothing—about the old lady who scolded you for ordering coffee wrong, about how Sam nearly fell off a boat during a mission, about the latest dumb thing Bucky said. Other nights, it’s quieter, just the two of you existing in the same space, even through a screen.

One night, as you sit on your tiny Parisian balcony, overlooking the rooftops, he asks, “Do you ever get lonely over there?”

You hesitate, watching the flickering lights of the city. “Sometimes,” you admit. “It’s amazing here, don’t get me wrong. But… yeah. It gets quiet.”

Sam’s voice softens. “Wish I could be there.”

Your heart clenches a little, the weight of those words heavier than either of you are ready to acknowledge. “Yeah,” you whisper, “me too.”

—

Months pass, and Paris starts feeling less foreign. Your French improves—at least enough to order coffee without embarrassing yourself. The chef yells at you slightly less. You’ve even made friends with some of your coworkers, sharing late-night meals at tiny bistros after grueling shifts.

But no matter how full your days are, Sam is still your constant.

Your text thread is endless—updates, jokes, random photos. You send him pictures of beautifully plated desserts you make, and he replies with exaggerated emojis of awe. He sends you pictures of whatever chaos he’s dealing with—usually involving either a superhero crisis or Bucky doing something dumb.

One night, after a particularly tough day, you text him:

You: Tell me something good.

He replies almost instantly:

Sam: I just saw a guy on the subway wearing a full Spider-Man costume. No context. Just sitting there, scrolling through his phone like it’s normal.

You snort, already feeling lighter.

You: Please tell me you took a picture. Sam: Would I ever let you down?

A photo comes through—a blurry shot of the Spider-Man impersonator looking very invested in his phone.

You: You’re my favorite person.

The moment you send it, you realize what you’ve just said. It’s not untrue—Sam is your favorite person. Has been for a while. But saying it out loud, even through text, feels dangerously close to something else.

The typing bubble appears. Your stomach knots.

Sam: Yeah?

You hesitate, fingers hovering over the keyboard. But before you can think too hard about it, you reply:

You: Yeah.

There’s a pause, then another text comes through.

Sam: Good. You’re mine too.

You stare at the screen, your heart pounding harder than it should. The conversation shifts after that, back to easy jokes, but something lingers beneath it. Something unspoken.

—

It happens during a video call one night. You’re in bed, wrapped in a blanket, your hair messier than usual after a long shift. Sam is lounging on his couch back home, a game playing on his TV in the background.

“I can’t believe it’s been six months,” you say, running a hand through your hair. “Feels like yesterday I was freaking out about moving here.”

“Still freaking out?”

You sigh dramatically. “Always.”

He chuckles, but then his expression shifts, turning softer. “You’ve done good, though. I knew you would.”

Warmth spreads through you. “Thanks, Sam.”

There’s a pause, a hesitation in the way he looks at you. Then, quietly, he says, “I think about you a lot.”

Your breath catches. You weren’t expecting that. Or maybe you were, but you never let yourself hope. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he admits. “More than I should.”

Your fingers tighten around the blanket. The line between friendship and something more has always been blurry with Sam, but now, it feels nonexistent.

“I miss you,” you say before you can stop yourself.

Sam’s expression shifts—like he’s relieved you said it first. “I miss you too,” he says, his voice rougher now. “A lot.”

The silence between you is loaded. There are a hundred things you could say right now, a hundred ways you could push this forward, but before you can figure out how, he sighs.

“When are you coming home?”

Your heart aches at the question. “I don’t know,” you admit. “My contract is for a year. Could be longer.”

Sam nods, but there’s something in his eyes that looks like he wants to ask you to come back sooner. He doesn’t, though. He just exhales, running a hand over his face.

“Guess I’ll just have to wait for you, then,” he murmurs.

You swallow hard. “Guess so.”

Neither of you say what you’re both thinking. That maybe, just maybe, waiting isn’t enough anymore. That maybe, it’s time to admit what’s been building between you for longer than either of you realized.

But for now, you let the silence hold it. Because even across an ocean, Sam still feels close. Like home. And you’re not ready to let go of that just yet.

The late-night calls become less frequent.

It’s not intentional at first. Your shifts at the patisserie get longer, your responsibilities grow, and exhaustion settles into your bones in a way that even Sam’s voice can’t always shake. Some nights, you fall asleep before you can even send a goodnight text. Other times, you wake up to a missed call from him, the timestamp mocking the time difference that keeps stretching the space between you.

You try. You both do.

Some nights, you fight sleep just to talk to him, propping your phone against a pillow as his voice soothes the ache of missing home. Other nights, he’s the one pushing through his own exhaustion, calling you from some late-night debriefing, his voice quieter than usual, edged with something unspoken.

But then the calls start coming at the wrong times.

You’ll be in the middle of preparing delicate pastries, fingers dusted in flour, when your phone vibrates with Sam’s name. You’ll glance at it, stomach twisting, but you can’t answer. By the time you get a free moment, the call has ended, and a simple text waits for you instead.

Sam: Guess you’re busy. Call me when you can.

And when you finally do? He doesn’t always pick up.

Sometimes he’s off on a mission. Sometimes he’s just tired. Sometimes the timing is just wrong.

One night, after a particularly grueling day, you send a message:

You: I miss you.

You wait. Minutes pass. Then an hour.

Sam: I miss you too.

There’s nothing else after that. No joke to lighten the mood. No attempt to keep the conversation going. Just those four words, sitting heavy on your screen.

The distance isn’t just physical anymore.

The night you find out your contract has been renewed, you don’t call Sam right away.

You should be excited. This is everything you wanted. A year in Paris was the dream, but now they want to keep you longer. You’re making a name for yourself. Your work is being noticed. This is the kind of opportunity people spend their whole lives chasing.

So why does your stomach twist uncomfortably at the thought of staying?

You stare at your phone, Sam’s contact open. You know the time difference is working against you, but you don’t care. You press the call button.

It rings. Once. Twice.

Voicemail.

You let out a slow breath, then hang up.

You try again the next day, timing it better, but he doesn’t answer.

It’s late when he finally calls back. Your phone buzzes against your nightstand, jolting you awake. You blink blearily at the screen, then swipe to answer.

“Hey,” you mumble, voice thick with sleep.

“Hey,” Sam says, but there’s something off. He sounds tired. Distant. “Sorry I missed your call. Things have been… hectic.”

You push yourself up, rubbing a hand over your face. “Yeah, I figured. Everything okay?”

“Yeah. Just the usual. What about you?”

You hesitate. “I, um… I got offered an extension on my contract.”

The silence that follows is deafening.

“…Oh.”

That’s all he says. Just oh.

You wait, hoping he’ll say more. Hoping he’ll tell you what you need to hear. That he wants you to come home. That he misses you too much for you to stay away any longer. That he—

“That’s great,” he says, but his voice is forced. “That’s what you wanted, right?”

You swallow hard. “Yeah. I mean… yeah, it is.”

Another pause.

“Then I’m happy for you.”

The words feel hollow.

“Sam,” you start, voice softer now, “are we okay?”

He exhales. “I don’t know. Are we?”

Your throat tightens. “We barely talk anymore.”

“I know,” he says, and for the first time in a long time, there’s frustration in his voice. “You think I don’t notice? You think I don’t miss you?”

“Then say that,” you snap, before you can stop yourself.

“I am saying it,” he fires back. “But what do you want me to do, huh? Fly to Paris every time I miss you? You’re the one who’s staying longer, so tell me—what are we supposed to do?”

You open your mouth, but nothing comes out. Because you don’t have an answer.

“I don’t want to lose you,” you admit quietly.

Sam’s voice softens. “Me neither.”

But neither of you say the most important part.

Is this enough?

Because right now, it doesn’t feel like it is.

The next few weeks are a blur of long shifts and forced smiles. You bury yourself in work, telling yourself this is what you wanted.

And maybe if you tell yourself enough times, it’ll feel true.

But Sam’s calls become even less frequent. The texts grow shorter. The conversations feel careful, like you’re both afraid of saying too much or not enough. Like you’re both waiting for the other to make a decision neither of you want to make.

One night, you get a text from him:

Sam: Got called away for a while. Don’t know when I’ll be back. Just… take care of yourself, okay?

Something in your chest tightens painfully.

You: Be safe.

You don’t hear from him for weeks.

And that’s when you realize—

Maybe you’re already losing him.

You can’t keep doing this.

The silence, the unanswered texts, the growing space between you and Sam—it’s all becoming unbearable. You’ve spent months pretending that your work is enough, that this distance isn’t pulling you apart piece by piece. But after weeks without hearing from him, something inside you snaps.

You need to see him. To talk to him. To fix this.

So you do something impulsive. Something reckless.

You take a few days of leave, book a last-minute flight, and before you can overthink it, you’re on a plane heading home.

The entire flight, your mind races. You imagine all the possible ways this could go—he could be happy to see you, or he could be angry that you showed up unannounced. Maybe he’s moved on, maybe he’s decided this isn’t worth it anymore. The fear sits heavy in your chest, but underneath it is something stronger.

Hope.

Because despite everything, you want this. Him. And if there’s even the slightest chance that Sam feels the same way, you need to fight for it.

You land late at night, exhaustion clinging to you, but you don’t waste time. You take a cab straight to his place, hands trembling as you clutch your bag.

And then, you’re standing at his door.

You hesitate only a moment before knocking.

There’s shuffling inside. A pause. Then the door swings open, and Sam is standing there, eyes heavy with sleep, hair slightly messy like he just rolled out of bed. He’s in sweats and a t-shirt, and for a second, he just stares at you, like he’s not sure if he’s dreaming.

“…What the hell?” His voice is rough with sleep and something else—something unreadable.

“Hi,” you say, breathless.

He blinks, then shakes his head, running a hand over his face. “What—what are you doing here?”

“I needed to see you.”

He exhales sharply, his jaw clenching. “And you just—what? Flew halfway across the world in the middle of the night?”

“Yes,” you say simply.

“Jesus, Y/N.” He lets out a humorless laugh, stepping back to let you in. “You’re insane, you know that?”

“Yeah,” you admit, stepping inside. The air between you is thick, heavy with everything unsaid. “But so are you, so I figured it evens out.”

He shuts the door, turning to you, arms crossed. His eyes search yours, and for the first time in months, there’s no screen between you. No static. Just him.

“Why are you really here?” he asks, voice quieter now.

You swallow hard, nerves twisting in your stomach. “Because we need to talk.”

Sam lets out a slow breath, then gestures toward the couch. “Alright. Talk.”

You sit, trying to collect your thoughts. Sam watches you carefully, his expression unreadable.

“I don’t want to lose you,” you start, your voice barely above a whisper.

His jaw tightens. “We’ve been losing each other for months.”

“I know.” The admission stings. “I hate it. I hate how things have been. And I know it’s not just because of the distance. I should’ve—we should’ve tried harder.”

Sam scoffs, shaking his head. “I did try, Y/N. But every time I called, you were busy. And when you called, I was halfway across the world. It’s not like we didn’t care, it’s just—” He stops himself, rubbing a hand over his face. “It’s just hard.”

“I know.” Your throat tightens. “But I do care, Sam. More than I should, probably.”

His gaze snaps to yours. “What do you mean?”

You exhale shakily, your hands gripping your knees. “I mean I miss you. Every day. Every time I see something funny and reach for my phone, only to realize you’re not there. Every time I wake up wishing I could just walk over and see you instead of checking a stupid screen. I think about you constantly, and I hate that I let it get this bad before saying something.”

Sam watches you, something flickering in his eyes. Something dangerous. “You think I don’t feel the same?” His voice is lower now, rougher.

Your breath catches. “Do you?”

His hands clench at his sides. “Of course I do.” He exhales, shaking his head. “Damn it, Y/N, I don’t think there’s been a single day I haven’t thought about you. But I didn’t know if I was allowed to feel that way. If you—” He stops, his gaze searching yours. “I didn’t know if you felt the same.”

Your heart hammers against your ribs. “I do.”

The space between you crackles with something electric.

Sam’s jaw clenches like he’s holding himself back. “Then why did you take the contract extension?”

You wince. “Because I thought I had to. Because it’s everything I worked for. But none of it feels the same without you.”

He exhales sharply, running a hand over his head. “So what now? You quitting and coming home?”

You bite your lip. “I don’t know.”

He lets out a bitter laugh. “That’s not exactly reassuring.”

“I want to be with you,” you say firmly, leaning forward. “But I also don’t want to ask you to wait for something that might not change anytime soon. That’s not fair to you.”

Sam steps closer, shaking his head. “You don’t get to decide that for me.”

Your breath catches. “Sam—”

“I’d wait,” he says, his voice steady, sure. “If it meant being with you, I’d wait. But we have to actually try this time. No more half-assed calls. No more avoiding things. If we’re doing this, we do it right.”

Your chest tightens. “Even if it means a long-distance relationship?”

He exhales, then nods. “Yeah. Even if it means that.”

A beat of silence passes. And then, without thinking, you close the distance between you.

Your hands cup his face, and before either of you can second-guess it, your lips crash together.

The moment his mouth meets yours, everything else disappears. The distance, the doubts, the time spent apart—it all fades into the background. All that matters is this. The way his arms wrap around you, pulling you closer. The way his lips move against yours like he’s been waiting for this as long as you have. The way he exhales against your skin, like he’s finally breathing again.

When you pull back, you rest your forehead against his, your breath mingling.

“I don’t want to let this go,” you whisper.

“Then don’t.” His hands tighten around you. “We’ll figure it out. I don’t care how long it takes.”

You smile, a real, genuine smile. For the first time in months, you feel light.

Because no matter how far apart you are, you know one thing for sure.

You’re his. And he’s yours.

And that’s enough.

The morning light filters through the curtains, casting a golden glow across the room. The sheets are tangled around your bare legs, the warmth of Sam’s body pressed against you keeping the chill at bay. His arm is draped over your waist, his fingers splayed against your stomach like he’s afraid to let you go.

For a moment, you let yourself stay there, soaking it in—the steady rise and fall of his chest, the soft warmth of his breath against your neck, the feeling of his skin against yours. It feels fragile, like something that could disappear if you move too quickly.

You don’t want to move.

But reality is waiting.

Your flight leaves in a few hours, and soon, you’ll have to pull yourself out of this bed, out of his bed, and get on a plane that will take you thousands of miles away.

Sam shifts behind you, pulling you closer, his lips brushing lazily against your shoulder. His voice is rough with sleep when he murmurs, “What time is it?”

You sigh, twisting slightly to glance at the clock. “Too early.”

He groans, burying his face in your neck. “Then let’s go back to sleep.”

“Sam…”

His arms tighten around you, his lips pressing softly against your skin. “Just a little longer,” he murmurs.

And God, you want to. You want to stay wrapped up in him, forget about flights and goodbyes and distance. But you can’t.

You shift in his hold, turning onto your back so you can see him. His eyes are still heavy with sleep, but there’s something else there, too. Something that makes your chest ache.

“You don’t have to go,” he says softly, his fingers tracing absent patterns on your stomach.

Your throat tightens. “You know I do.”

He sighs, resting his forehead against yours. “I hate this.”

“I know,” you whisper. “Me too.”

But the world doesn’t stop just because you don’t want to leave.

Eventually, you force yourself to get up, the loss of his warmth making you shiver. You gather your clothes, moving around the room in silence as you get dressed, feeling the weight of his gaze on you the entire time.

By the time you’re ready, he’s sitting up in bed, watching you with an expression that’s impossible to read.

“You sure about this?” he asks quietly.

You swallow hard. “No.”

It’s the truth.

You don’t want to leave. But this is your dream, and Sam knows that. He wouldn’t ask you to give it up—not really.

But damn, if it isn’t tempting.

You step closer, cupping his face in your hands. “We’re gonna make this work, right?”

His hands settle on your waist, grounding you. “Yeah. We are.”

You kiss him, slow and deep, pouring every ounce of feeling into it. It’s not enough. It never will be. But for now, it has to be.

And then, before you can second-guess it, you grab your bag and head for the door.

Sam follows you to the car, his fingers lacing through yours, holding on tight. He doesn’t let go, not even when you reach the airport.

Not even when it’s time to say goodbye.

—

The airport is crowded, the low hum of conversation and the distant crackle of announcements filling the space around you.

Sam stands by your side, your hand still tucked in his, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. Neither of you have said much since arriving, both knowing that anything you say will only make this harder.

You steal a glance at him, taking in the way his jaw is clenched, his expression unreadable. He’s trying to be strong, but you know him too well.

“I hate goodbyes,” you admit softly.

He exhales sharply. “Then don’t say it.”

You offer a weak smile. “Not much of a choice, is there?”

Sam looks down at you, something unreadable flickering in his eyes. Then, suddenly, his grip on your hand tightens. “Come here.”

Before you can react, he’s pulling you into him, his arms wrapping around you in a way that makes it feel like he’s trying to memorize every inch of you. You bury your face in his chest, breathing him in, trying to do the same.

“Last chance to run away with me,” he murmurs against your hair.

A choked laugh escapes you. “Tempting.”

He leans back, his hands coming up to frame your face. His thumbs brush over your cheeks, his gaze locking onto yours with an intensity that makes it hard to breathe.

“I love you.”

The words hit you like a shockwave.

Your lips part, your heart slamming against your ribs. “What?”

“I love you,” he repeats, his voice steady, sure. “I don’t care that this is hard. I don’t care that it’s long-distance. I love you, and I’m gonna do whatever it takes to make this work.”

Tears sting your eyes, your throat tightening as you let the words sink in.

Then, without thinking, you surge forward, crashing your lips against his.

The kiss is desperate, full of everything you want to say but can’t. When you finally pull away, your forehead rests against his, your hands fisting the fabric of his jacket.

“I love you too,” you whisper.

The overhead speaker crackles with your boarding announcement.

You squeeze your eyes shut, willing yourself to stay strong.

Sam presses a lingering kiss to your forehead. “Go,” he murmurs. “Before I change my mind and steal your passport.”

A watery laugh escapes you. You take a shaky step back, then another, your fingers slipping from his grasp.

And then, with one last look, you turn and walk away.

—

Long distance is hard.

There are days when it feels impossible—when the time zones refuse to line up, when all you want is to feel Sam’s arms around you but all you have is a screen and a bad connection.

But you try. You both try.

You make time, even when it seems like there is none. You send voice messages when calls don’t work. You plan visits, counting down the days until you’re back in his arms.

Some nights, you fall asleep on the phone together, listening to the sound of each other’s breathing. Other nights, you video chat for hours, Sam cooking dinner while you sit on your tiny Parisian balcony, both of you pretending the distance doesn’t exist.

There are fights, of course. Frustrations. Moments where it feels like too much.

But there are also the little things.

The way Sam texts you good morning, even when it’s the middle of the night for him. The way you send him pictures of every pastry you make, knowing he’ll pretend to be impressed even when he has no idea what half of them are. The way he tells you about his day, his voice warm and familiar, grounding you no matter how far apart you are.

One night, months later, as you sit curled up in your apartment, your phone rings.

It’s Sam.

You answer immediately, smiling as his face fills the screen.

“Hey, stranger,” he says, grinning.

“Hey yourself,” you tease.

He shifts, his smile turning softer. “Guess what?”

“What?”

“I booked a flight.”

Your breath catches. “You—wait, really?”

“Yeah,” he says, watching you carefully. “Figured it was my turn to come to you.”

Tears prick your eyes, a laugh bubbling up in your throat. “Sam…”

“I know,” he says, smiling. “I miss you too.”

And in that moment, despite the distance, despite the months apart, you know one thing for sure.

You can do this.

Because love like this?

It’s worth fighting for.

The moment you spot Sam at the arrivals gate, the months of distance, the countless video calls, and the ache of missing him all fade into the background. He’s here.

He’s real.

You barely have time to process it before you’re running toward him, weaving through the crowd without a second thought. His eyes lock onto yours, his lips curling into a grin just before you crash into him, arms wrapping around his neck.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his voice warm and familiar.

You bury your face in his chest, inhaling the scent of him—the scent you’ve missed for far too long. “You’re actually here.”

His arms tighten around you, his lips pressing against your temple. “Told you I’d come.”

You lean back just enough to look up at him, your hands fisting the fabric of his jacket. “I missed you.”

His thumb brushes over your cheek, his expression soft. “Missed you too.”

And then, because you can’t help yourself, you pull him down into a kiss.

The weeks apart melt away as his lips move against yours, his hands steadying you like he’s afraid you’ll disappear. You feel the tension in his body, the need, the relief. When you finally pull back, breathless, he presses another quick kiss to the corner of your mouth before murmuring, “So, are you gonna show me around or what?”

—

Bringing Sam back to your apartment feels surreal. You’ve pictured this moment a hundred times, but nothing compares to the way he actually looks here—his duffel bag slung over his shoulder, his eyes flicking around the space with quiet curiosity.

“Nice place,” he says, tossing his bag onto the couch.

You grin. “It’s small.”

He shrugs. “It’s you.”

Warmth spreads through your chest. You watch as he moves through the apartment, running his fingers along your bookshelf, pausing to inspect the small collection of photos on the counter—pictures of your family, your friends, one of you and Sam from before you left.

You step beside him, nudging his shoulder. “Hungry?”

“I could eat,” he says, smirking. “Jet lag’s kicking my ass, though.”

You laugh. “I warned you.”

Before you can pull something together for dinner, your phone buzzes on the counter.

You glance at it, frowning when you see the name on the screen.

Chef Lemoine.

Your stomach twists. He’s the head of the pâtisserie where you work, one of the most respected pastry chefs in Paris. If he’s calling you after hours, it has to be important.

You exchange a look with Sam, already apologizing with your eyes. “I have to take this.”

Sam waves a hand. “Go ahead.”

You answer, keeping your voice steady. “Oui, Chef?”

“I need you to come in,” he says without preamble. “There’s something we need to discuss.”

You blink. “Now?”

“Yes.” There’s no room for argument in his tone. “It’s important.”

Your stomach sinks. You glance at Sam, who’s watching you carefully, clearly reading the shift in your expression.

“I’ll be there soon,” you say quickly, then hang up.

Sam raises an eyebrow. “Everything okay?”

“I don’t know,” you admit, already grabbing your coat. “I think so?”

He tilts his head. “Want me to come with you?”

You hesitate. As much as you want him by your side, you have no idea what this meeting is about. The last thing you need is for Sam to sit around awkwardly while you talk shop with your boss.

You press a quick kiss to his lips. “Stay here. I’ll be back soon.”

Sam’s hands settle on your waist, holding you in place for just a moment longer. “Don’t keep me waiting too long, sweetheart.”

You grin. “Promise.”

—

By the time you arrive at the pâtisserie, your nerves are running wild. You step into the quiet office, finding Chef Lemoine seated at his desk, scanning through a file.

He gestures for you to sit without looking up. “You’ve done well here, Y/N.”

You blink, caught off guard. “Thank you, Chef.”

He finally looks at you, his sharp gaze assessing. “You have ambition. Talent. And more importantly, you understand the craft.”

Your fingers tighten in your lap. “I appreciate that.”

He exhales, folding his hands together. “I have an offer for you.”

Your breath catches. “An offer?”

“We are opening a pâtisserie in New York,” he says simply. “And we need someone to run it.”

Your brain stutters to a halt. “You mean—”

“You’re from New York, are you not?”

“Yes, but—”

“Then it only makes sense. You understand the culture, the clientele. You’ve proven yourself here. I believe you would be the best choice.”

Your heart is pounding.

New York.

Home.

A thousand thoughts race through your head, but one stands out above the rest.

Sam.

You don’t even hesitate. “I’ll do it.”

Chef Lemoine’s lips twitch in approval. “Good.”

You barely remember thanking him before you’re practically running out the door, your heart hammering against your ribs.

You don’t care that it’s late, that you’re breathless by the time you reach your apartment. You don’t care about anything except the fact that this changes everything.

Because now, you’re going home.

—

You burst through the door, chest heaving, eyes immediately locking onto Sam. He’s sitting on the couch, flipping through a book he must’ve found on your shelf, but the moment he sees your expression, he sits up straighter.

“What happened?” he asks, setting the book aside.

You rush toward him, barely able to contain yourself. “I’m coming home.”

Sam blinks. “What?”

You grab his hands, squeezing them tightly. “They’re opening a pâtisserie in New York,” you say breathlessly. “And they want me to run it.”

For a second, he just stares at you, like he’s trying to make sure he heard you right. “You’re serious?”

You nod, grinning so wide it hurts. “Dead serious.”

The disbelief slowly melts into something else. Something softer.

“New York,” he murmurs.

“New York.”

Sam exhales sharply, then suddenly you’re being pulled into his arms, his lips crashing against yours in a kiss that steals your breath.

When he pulls back, his hands frame your face, his eyes searching yours. “So no more long distance?”

“No more long distance,” you confirm.

He grins. “I think I can live with that.”

You laugh, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Good.”

Sam tugs you closer, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead. “I’m proud of you, sweetheart.”

Your chest tightens. “I love you.”

His arms tighten around you. “Love you too.”

And just like that, the months of distance, the late-night calls, the ache of missing each other—it all falls away.

Because now?

Now, you’re finally coming home.

[bethsvrse]

me staring at my ceiling after y/n does the most FLABBERGASTING thing ever

[l0caltiredgirl]

me @ y/n when they do something i’d never do:

like babe this isn’t us ?? get it together

[lives-in-midgard]

Bucky: You can’t make everyone like you. You’re not Y/N.

Sam: Not everyone likes Y/N.

Bucky: Who doesn’t?

Sam: Well...

Bucky: Names, now. Give me their names.

[alixandra-multifandom-version]

How different marvel and dc characters would hold your face:

Tony stark, loki, bucky Barnes, Bruce wayne, Oliver queen, Dawn Granger, donna troy, Carter Hall

Thor, Clint Barton, Agatha harkness, rio vidal, Jason todd, Arthur Curry, Hal Jordan, Diana prince, Dinah lance,

The joker, poison ivy, harley Quinn, Jason todd, logan howlett, Mystique, Erik Lehnsherr

Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson, Peter Parker, Peter quill, natasha romanoff, wanda maximoff, bruce banner , dick grayson, Tim drake, Barry allen, John Stewart

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

teamwork

kinktober, day twenty-six

a/n: ........I mean, how could i not? it's a classic.

summary: “oh, naughty, naughty you,” Tony crossed his arms with a chuckle, “what were you hoping to get out of this, huh? Sneak in here and seduce the whole team? Is one just not enough for you?” the rest of the men snickered at his mocking quips. 

warnings: reader x pro football team!avengers (bf!steve rogers, bucky barnes, pietro maximoff, clint barton, sam wilson, tony stark, thor odinson), smut, slight dubcon, pro athlete au (even though i know the majority of them are american, i’m just gonna say that they play for a team somewhere else just so that i don’t have to say soccer, it hurts my soul), the old oops i accidentally walked into the locker room trope, gangbang, everyone's a hoe, established relationship, kissing, size kink, dirty talk, handjobs, oral, thigh riding, unprotected sex, penetrative sex, anal, double penetration, bukkake, spit kink, squirting, impact play, choking, overstimulation, multiple orgasms

word count: 5400

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

masterlist | join my taglist | kinktober 2023

“You were amazing out there,” you purred between pecks as Steve’s firm thigh, slotted between your own, rubbed against your core, your short skirt flaring out over the shorts of his uniform. 

“Thank you,” he chuckled, his lips fluttering down your neck as he uttered, “you know, I think was even better with you in the audience,” nudging his leg more determinedly against you as you melted against the wall he had you pressed against, “like you brought me luck or something.”

Just then, as you felt yourself begin to soak through your underwear and mark your boyfriend’s uniform, someone from further down the hallway poked their head out of a door and shouted, “hey, Rogers!” reeling back from the crook of your neck with a peeved exhaled, Steve cast his glance in the individual's direction, “coach wants a word with you in his office.”

“Alright, thanks,” he nodded before turning his attention back to you, arms firm on either side of your head, cosily caging you in as he spoke, “I’ll be right back,” his leg reluctantly retracted from your warmth, “there is lounge down around the corner there that should be on the quiet side about now if you don’t wanna wait out here,” he offered a vague nod to his left before dipping down to near your lips one last time. 

Smile growing wide at his considerateness, you breathed, “okay,” but the kiss you thought he wanted to give to you never came as his nose just ghosted against your own, seemingly savouring the moment before you felt him shift and his finger disappeared below your skirt, “Steve, what are you-,” but the rest of your sentence never saw the light of day as, with a daring smirk on his lips, Steve swiftly kneeled down before you and snatched your underwear down past your knees, keeping his eyes on yours as he methodically manoeuvred your jelly like legs to steal the sodden garment completely. 

“I’ll come find you in a bit, yeah?” he placed a playful peck right above your knees before straightening back up. 

“Steve!” you hazily giggled as he began to disappear down the corridor. 

“10 minutes, 15 tops!” he called over his shoulder as he sauntered away from your stunned form, “then I’m claiming my prize!” 

With a breathy chuckle still billowing from your lips, you pulled out your phone and rounded the corner, scrolling through your options of temporary entertainment as you neared the room that you could supposedly wait in.

Eyes glued to the small screen in your hands, you didn’t even glance up as you reached the first door you approached, not assuming there were any other options, you simply pushed it open and strolled in. 

Fully expecting that you were nearing a couch or something soon, the room you’d blindly entered turned out to not be the lounge you’d thought it was, but instead, the team’s locker room as you swiftly walked straight into a broad and bare chest. 

“Wow, I’m sorry-,” your eyes tore away from your screen to finally discover where you were. Vision growing wide, you stared up at the athlete before you, his golden mane rustling from the collision, “I-I-…”

Blinking up at Thor, your own name even escaped your memory as you found yourself in the very last place you should have wandered into.

From off to the side, you heard the voice of Tony holler, “hey sweetheart, fans aren’t allowed in here,” before leaning closer to the sandy buzzcut beside him and muttering quietly, “I thought they said they had tightened security around here…”

With your feet still frozen to the floor, your mouth hung agape as your eyes glazed over the recognisable individuals throughout the room, all in various states of undress. As Thor’s towering form moved past, walking over to snatch up a towel, someone else dexterously took his place, “wait a second, I recognise you,” you blinked back at the guy who rarely left your boyfriend’s side, “you’re Cap’s new girl, aren’t you?”

“I-I-, yeah,” you stammered, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to walk in here-”

“Oh, but you did,” Bucky teasingly took a step closer. 

“I was, uh, looking for the lounge, and I was just staring at my phone,” you swallowed thickly as someone out of the corner of your eye peeled off their shirt, “I’m so sorry, I'll get out,” but as you whirled around to bolt out of there, you just collided with another individual that had slyly slotted in between you and the only way out of here. 

“You’re cute,” you heard Bucky continue as you blinked up at Pietro, his athletic physique now completely blocking the exit, just as Thor's, the team's goalie, would do before the vast net during an intense game, “isn’t she cute, guys?”

Soft echoes of agreeance bounced off the walls before Pietro smiled down at you, “what’s your name, baby?” his accent sending a shiver straight down your spine. 

“Y/n…” you softly uttered, your heartbeat deafening in your ears, growing and rippling out from where it was still thumping from between your thighs.

“That’s a pretty name,” his eyes washed over your visage, licking it up like he was at a museum. 

“So, tell us, Y/n,” you spun back around at the sound of Bucky’s timbre, “did you really just not pay attention or did you perhaps walk in here on purpose?”

“No!” you squeaked, “I swear, I didn’t-”

“Because I think you were trying to catch a little glimpse,” he teasingly cut you off with a soft tilt of his head. 

“Oh, naughty, naughty you,” Tony crossed his arms with a chuckle, “what were you hoping to get out of this, huh? Sneak in here and seduce the whole team? Is one just not enough for you?” the rest of the men snickered at his mocking quips. 

“No, I wasn’t trying anything, I-,” the rest of your plea got suddenly swapped out with a shuttering gasp as the player sitting on the bench beside you had begun to ghost his hand against the goosebump-ridden flesh of your leg, sneakily twisting his position enough to catch a glimpse as his touch carelessly bushed against your short skirt, making it briefly fluff out enough for him to notice. 

“Hey,” Sam boomed to the rest of the team, “she’s not wearing any panties!”

“She’s not?” Thor turned his head to join the festivity entirely.

“Fuck,” you heard Clint curse gutturally, “you came to the game like that?”

From right beside him, Tony bit down on his smirk, “what a little fucking slut…” 

“No, it wasn’t-”

But before you could manage to convince them, Pietro pushed your form lightly and sent you directly into Bucky’s waiting arms. With your back arched like a ski slope, your short skirt rose up, covering virtually nothing, especially after you’d had your undergarments stolen, and granted the men behind you a pornographic view of the state Steve had left you in. 

Catching your chin between his thumb and forefinger, Bucky tilted your head up to catch your hazy eye, “why don’t you wait here with us?”

“I-…” you blinked back at him, feeling your chest rise and fall rapidly against his. 

“Rogers won’t mind,” he shook his head reassuringly, fingers shifting to gently caress you’re your heated cheek, “promise.”

“Yeah,” Pietro’s voice resonated vibrantly from behind you once more, “we always take good care of his girls…” 

Utterly spellbound by his ocean gaze, your head nodded fuzzily, “o-okay,” your breaths came in shaky as you spoke, “I guess if you say Steve wouldn’t mind, then I could probably just hang out in here for a bit till he gets back.”

“Great!” Sam clapped his hands together, the sudden noise causing you to jump out of the burly arms that held you. 

Leaning back against his locker, Clint then asked, “so did you enjoy the game?”

“Oh, sure,” with clumsy words flowing from your lips, your eyes traced Thor’s half-naked form as he crossed the room, “it was fun, I mean, you guys played really well, congrats on the win by the way.”

“Aw, thanks,” the man your gaze was locked upon sniggered as he settled in beside Tony, then leaned in to mutter in his ear just loud enough for you to catch, “Cap really wasn’t bluffing about her.”

“Dude, I know,” Tony harmonized lowly before raising his voice, “so, Y/n!” he slyly cleared his throat, “you never did tell us why you came to our game commando. Did you do that for us?”

“Oh, I-…” you averted your gaze, attempting to explain it with an airy laugh, “that wasn’t me, Steve kinda stole them a few minutes ago.”

Counting from behind you, Pietro challenged, “oh, Steve stole them, did he now?”

“Yeah,” you nodded bashfully. 

“And just why would he do such a thing?”

“I-…” you redirected your vision up towards the ceiling, “I think it’s easy enough to deduce what he was thinking.”

“Yeah, but I wanna hear you say it,” Pietro playfully stepped closer, tilting his head to catch your nervous gaze. 

“Come on, honey,” Sam’s tongue flickered out to glisten up his smirk, “don’t get shy on us now.”

Gnawing on your bottom lip, you then confessed with an exhale, “…we were gonna go celebrate…”

“Celebrate? Really?” Bucky’s gaze gleamed back at you in amusement, “well, that sounds fun, doesn’t it sound fun, guys?” he didn’t tear his eyes away from you as he countered to the others, their enthusiastic replies swiftly filling the thick air. Slowly leaning in close, he tugged a stray piece of your hair behind your ear, “you know what I think?” your head instantly shook, hypnotically granting him the answer to continue, “I think we deserve some celebrating as well, don’t you think? I mean, it wasn’t only Rogers out there on the field. Don’t we deserve a prize as well?”

As he cradled your face, all you could do was melt, “I-… I guess so…”

Closing the short distance, Bucky planted a feathery kiss upon your lips before tilting his head back ever so slightly to flash you a playful glance, “yeah?” his words were just above a whisper, “you wanna celebrate with us till Rogers gets back?”

With starry eyes, you blinked back up at the football player and hummed, utterly spellbound, “uh-huh,” before his lips pressed against yours once more, kissing you like there was no tomorrow. 

Letting go of your face, his silky touch casketed down your form like a waterfall, flutteringly roaming, up and down, each time carelessly catching your skirt and letting it gather up with his hungry movements. 

As you purred enchantedly against Bucky’s lips, Pietro behind you sank down to his knees, his intentions becoming clear as you began to feel soft pecks flutter across the backs of your thighs, his fingertips raking over your tingling skin in sloppy patterns. 

But as his caresses danced their way further north up your flesh, I didn’t take long before the greedy man dove head first into what he truly wanted to kiss, rendering you to tear away from Bucky’s lips with a dizzying pant, “oh my god,” and bury your face in his brawny chest. 

Lapping against your soppy folds, Pietro let go of your puffy pearl with a pop, briefly pulling back to share, “fuck, she tastes good.”

“Oh yeah?” Thor breathed from the sidelines. 

“Like fucking sunshine and rainbows,” he elaborated with gravelly desperation in his tone before latching onto your core once more. 

You barely noticed when people stepped closer, scarcely knowing whose hands were exploring your every inch, all you knew was how incredible they made you feel. 

Squeezing your boobs through your thin shirt, nipples pebbly and clear through the fabric, you felt Tony’s breath tickle your ear, “you mind taking this off for us, sweetheart?”

Eyes fluttering over your shoulder to find him, you simply raised your arms high above your head and let them yank your t-shirt off and merrily discover how you hadn’t bothered to put a bra on this morning. 

Glancing down, you watched as Clint cupped your softness in his wide palms, “damn, look at these fucking tits,” he gave them a little jiggle before dipping his head down low to place a few pecks along them. With the left of your small buds swiftly getting captured by his lips, a different hand took over palming your right as your fingers found Clint’s short hair, your nails scraping gently along his scalp, “you like that, hon?” he blinked up at you as he sucked, friskily nipping at your sensitive skin, “you like having these little nipples played with, huh?”

“Mhm,” you nodded hazily as someone reached out to pinch harshly the one not getting slobbered. 

“What else do you like, huh?” Bucky asked, his radiating form still pressed up against you. Capturing your chin, his thumb extended to brush over your lips, “you like having something in this pretty little mouth of yours?” poking it in, the pad of his finger softly ran across your tongue before your lips enclosed around him, your head blissfully bobbing as you sucked on his digit, “yeah? You wanna suck our cocks?” he retracted his digit, smearing saliva across your cheek as you offered him a foggy nod, “you think you can handle all of us at once?”

“I don’t know if I can,” you admitted with excitement bubbling in your belly, “I’ve never been with more than just one person at a time.”

“Oh no, really?” Tony rumbled playfully, “you’ve never been shared by more?” he palmed your tit roughly as you craned your neck to gaze at him, “what a fucking shame, truly, you deserve to be worshipped like a goddess.”

“Don’t you worry, darling,” Thor smirked, “we’ll help you,” before Pietro as the last one distanced himself, letting go of your petals with a pop, as you sank down to the floor.

You hadn’t really noticed before, but now that you were at the right eye level, it became impossible not to take in the team’s enthusiasm. Most of them were already touching themselves and some even had already whipped their cocks out, the vision causing your eyelids to flutter as your brain turned molten at the possibilities. 

“O-oh, wow,” your eyes grew to the size of plates as they tugged their shorts down, “I-I-,” lengths springing free all around you, “I don’t know where to start… wow…” a giggle suddenly began to bubble out of you as you tore your stare away from their erections to find their eyes, “h-hi.”

Grasping your hand in his, Bucky then wrapped your fingers around his girth, smiling down at you as he throbbed for you, “hey, baby.”

“You’ll all so-,” your dazed gaze flickered around at them all, “wow…”

Raising your other hand up, you enclosed it around Clint, testing out a gentle jerk to gauge their reactions. 

“Yeah, right back at ya,” Clint echoed your compliments as his mouth fell open, utterly spellbound by your tender efforts. 

Catching Pietro’s eye, you slowly leaned in and gave his tip a sweet kiss, smile wide as you then licked it a few times as if he was a melting ice cream cone on a hot summer’s day, “oh, shit,” he groaned, the grip he had around his base tightening, “open up for me, baby,” parting your lips, he then slowly rocked forward to fill up your mouth slightly, “yeah, just like that,” you felt his pulse against your tongue, “fuck…”

Head bopping gently at a leisurely pace, drooling blissfully around Pietro’s bulbous head, you shifted your hands, eyes fluttering in an attempt to locate the others, Sam and Thor then instead came to your rescue by seizing your flailing hands and bringing them to what you sought. 

When you pulled back from Pietro to catch your breath, his dick falling from your swollen lips with a crisp pop, you barely managed to suck in one whole breath before Tony’s hands seized either side of your face, bringing you close and sliding his cock in past your gasp. 

“Here you go,” he groaned as he rolled his hips, instantly going so deep that he tickled the back of your throat. With his fist tight around his base, he reluctantly let you come up for air, pulling back so swiftly as if the lack of your warmth pained him, “show me that tongue, angel,” chest heaving and eyes a daze, your mouth fell open and did as he requested, a hot string of drool promptly dripping from it and connecting to your exposed chest. Grabbing your chin and holding it tight, he leaned down and spit in your mouth, watching only a moment as it sparkled on your tongue before he tapped the weight of his girth against it, playing with it like a rain puddle before he ruthlessly thrust forward so deep that his heavy sack nuzzled against your chin and his tip disappeared deep down your throat, “there you go, honey,” fingers woven in your hair, he kept you still as he fucked your face, “there you go…” 

As Tony selfishly made you choke on his cock, Clint then knelt down beside you and reached under the short skirt that still clung to your hips. One hand still pumping himself, his other fingers found your core. 

“Fuck, she’s so wet,” he groaned, granting your aching clit a few circles before your pussy practically sucked one of his fingers in from how turned on you were, slipping in with no effect at all. Girth falling from your lips, you let out a shuttering gasp. Pressing his cheek against your own, Clint chuckled lowly, “you like that, baby?” lavishly caressing your walls ever so slowly, “that what you need?”

“Oh, god,” you panted, eyes fluttering shut, “yes!”

As he offered you another digit, he kept up a dizzying pattern of pumping his fingers into you, petting against a spot that made your pussy sing, only to retract them in order to rub your puffy pearl, repeating the dance till your legs trembled against the cool tile floor. 

“How about something else, huh?” Thor’s voice cut through your haze, “you wanna get that little pussy stretched out by something else?” your frame then jumped as Clint promptly landed a sharp slap against your soppy folds, forcing your eyes to snap open and your mind to race for an answer. 

Eyes training on Thor, a playful smirk bloomed on your lips, “what do you have in mind?” you asked innocently before you leaned in close and swiped your tongue over his leaking tip. 

Pumping his cock tightly in his fist, he tapped it against your beaming face and chuckled, “you really want me to spell it out for you?” to which you simply giggled under the weight of his length as a reply, one that swiftly got cut short and morphed into a gasp as Clint beside you plucked you up onto your wobbly feet. 

Working as the team that they were, they spun you around so that your backside pressed up against Thor. Hiking your skirt far enough up your waist to render it useless, the blonde athlete gazed down at your dripping mess, nuzzled against him and virtually drooling for him to split you open. 

“Look at that…” he briefly swiped his cock through your folds, parting them with his girth, “so pretty,” before his hips snapped forward and buried himself completely, “fuck…”

Eyes fluttering closed, you let out a shuttering moan as he held you there for a moment, savouring the euphoric sensation as your spine melted back against his chest. As Thor nuzzled you close, filling your cunt up so much that your knees threatened to give out, you felt stray hands find your tits, twisting and tweaking your nipples teasingly as some others grabbed your palms and guided them towards their cocks, enveloping their own around yours and fucking up into your touch. 

“How does she feel?” you heard Tony ask. 

Grip digging into your hips, Thor eased his length out, just halfway, before slamming it back inside, poking a place that pushed the air out of your lungs, “fucking incredible,” his lips ghosted against the shell of your ear. 

When a pair of hands found your face, cupping your flaming cheeks, your eyes dreamily blinked open once more to gaze back at Sam. Briefly pressing his lips against yours, it nearly gave you whiplash when they then manoeuvred your spine to bend, bowing down for your mouth to be aligned with Sam's excitement.

“Here you go, sweetheart,” he pumped his cock before you, smile growing wider as your soft tongue began to swipe across him, “don’t forget the nuts,” he lifted his length far enough out of your reach, groaning loudly as you began to drool all over his jewels as he wished, “that’s it, atta girl…”

Feeling Thor’s hands shift, one of them came to clench your skirt tightly, gathering the fabric on the small of your back and holding onto it as an anchor as the other one descended upon your ass, slapping away in quick succession, just hard enough for it to tingle deliciously. 

It all felt like a blur, like a dream. A beautiful and intoxicating dream. The kind of dream you’d never wanna wake from. 

After cumming all over Thor’s cock, in the hazy daze of it all, it took you a moment to realise that they had all switched out, trading places so that Pietro was now behind you, sliding in and out of your clenching cunt, and Clint was before you, sinking his dick so far down your throat that it left an imprint.

“This how you thought meeting the team would go, huh?” Bucky’s timbre cut through all of the moans, “this what you expected?” his touch was all over you, so hungry that you could barely keep track of it, “you expected us to pass you around and fuck your brains out?” gliding his palm down your spine, he then came to fixate on the little rosebud just shy north of where Pietro was having his fill, “has Cap fucked you here before?”

In between your sloppy pecks across Clint’s cock, you admitted, “a-a couple times.”

“A couple of times,” he chuckled darkly, “really?”

“What a dirty little girl you are, letting your boyfriend fuck you in the ass,” Clint suddenly got down to your level and plucked up your flustered face, bringing you close to his own, “say it, say that you’re a dirty girl.”

The words promptly flowed from you as if you were hypnotised, “I’m a dirty girl.”

Tapping your cheek lightly with his palm, he ordered, “again.”

“I’m a dirty girl.”

Slapping your features harsher this time, “one more time, what are you?”

“A-, fuck,” you whined, brows knitted as your pussy filled the room with soppy melodies of desire, “a dirty girl!

Just then, the door to the locker room burst open and in strolled none other than your boyfriend.

“Alright guys, listen up!” he called out before he truly took in the activities he’d just interrupted, “couch says that-,” but then when his gaze finally trained on your cockdrunk visage, the rest of his important message trailed off, “Y/n?” 

“Oh hey, Cap,” Bucky grinned, none of the players slowing down at the appearance of their leader, “thought we’d keep your girl entertained while you were gone.” 

Closing the door behind him, Steve took a slow step forward and sighed, “guys, seriously?” his glare found each and every one of them, “I was gonna talk to her first,” stride leisurely, he moved closer to you, peeling his shirt off as he did so. Kneeling down before you, getting on your level, a warm smile bloomed upon his lips as his eyes locked with your hazy ones, “hey baby.”

“S-Steve,” you whimpered, wanting so badly to explain, but unable to do anything other than melt even further. 

“How are you doing, huh?” the back of his knuckles softly ghosted down your cheek as his gentle tone washed over you like a warm cup of tea, “you still wanna tell me how well I played today or are you too busy telling the rest of the team?” 

“No, please don’t go,” you grabbed onto his tender touch, “please!”

Straightening back up to his full height, he pulled his shorts down and let his cock spring free, slapping his toned abdomen with its enthusiasm. 

“You mind?” he offered Pietro a nod before the man complied, easing out, and passing you to Steve’s open arms. Scooping you up, his strong grip curved around your bottom entirely. Pressing your lips to his, you tangled your arms around his neck as he nudged your weeping core against his girth, your cunt already creaming and painting his cock a milky shade.

Carrying you in his arms as if it took no effort at all, Steve raised you up further, aligning you just so before dropping you back down again and letting you sink down onto his dick, the sensation causing a pornographic mewl to escape both of your lips as you let the fevered kiss crumble in order to hide your face in the crook of his neck.

“Fucking hell, that’s it,” Steve groaned, lifting you up and down in his grip like a precious little cocksleeve, “that what you needed, huh? You needed me to fuck your pretty little hole?” palming your bottom roughly, he them landed a few swift slaps across it causing even more electricity to course throughout you with the sparks of pleasurable pain, “after the team had their fill, you still needed to feel me?” eyes squeezed shut, your drool smeared against his pulse as you felt him extend a finger and rub a few circles over your other hole, all of the other previous activities already slickening it up enough to make his dance molten and his initiative effortless when he plugged it up, “have me fuck you in front of all of them, give them a good view of what a beautiful mess they’ve made of you… Open your eyes, baby,” hazy vision blinking open, the side of your head stayed plastered against your boyfriend’s broad shoulder as your eyes locked on the spectators, “look at them, look at what you do to them, look at how much they want you.”

Trembling in his arms, so violently that you convulsed off his cock completely, it wasn’t till Sam excitedly pointed out, “oh, she’s a squirter!” that you noticed the gushing waterfall your high had showered Steve with.

“Damn right she is,” Steve smiled proudly, realigning his tender hold as he pressed a soft peck to your temple, “my girl is full of many talents,” with long strides, he then walked up to the bench in the middle of the room and slowly laid down upon it, securely holding your molten form close as he shifted, your body completely plastered on top of his as he cheekily spoke, “in fact, Buck, come over here, help me stuff her a bit more, yeah?” 

Glance swiftly washing over Tony, Bucky asked, “hey, do you still have that-“ 

“Yep, of course,” Tony didn’t need any more to understand, hastily rummaging through his gym bag before tossing his teammate a small bottle of lube, “here!” 

After liberally slickening himself up, you perked up a bit as you felt Bucky’s skin press against your own, your back arching up against his chest as he teased you, nudging his tip against your farmost entrance and rendering your form to yet again give into the ecstasy and recover in a flash. 

But as soon as he confidently sank in at slow and steady pace, a gasp escaped your lungs, “oh my god!”

“What?” Steve smirked beneath you, catching your wild eyes as he teased, “what is it, babe? What’s he doing?”

Mouth agape and brows tightly knitted, you uttered, “he’s fucking my ass.”

“Who’s fucking your ass?” Steve��s mockingly sweet tone washed over you.

“Bucky,” you whimpered as he eased back out till just the essence of him remained. 

“Why don’t you look back at him and say thank you?”

Twisting your head, you found his gaze and hazily managed, “thank you, Bucky,” the sensation of him sinking back in and splitting you apart made it nearly impossible to complete the task. 

“Thank you, what?” Steve fished. 

“Thank you for filling up my ass, Bucky.”

Capturing your face, Bucky cradled it in his hands as he smiled, “you’re so fucking welcome,” before dipping down to steal a sweet kiss, “any time, doll, any time…” 

With your nose nuzzled against Bucky’s, your boyfriend’s low voice once more found your ears, “hey baby? Why don’t you slide my cock back in, huh? Stretch that little pussy out as well?”

Reaching down to seize it, you hummed fuzzily, “mhm,” before slipping it in, your eyes promptly fluttering shut at the ecstasy. 

Their thrusts were slow but immensely intense, with a roughness hiding behind the pace that made you tremble between them. 

“Fucking hell, if you don’t marry this girl, Cap,” you felt Bucky’s boorish fingers wrap around your delicate throat, “one of us will.”

Fighting to peel your blissful eyes open, you first caught sight of Steve’s adoring features beneath you, gazing between your fuzzy expression and your stretched-out holes as if you were some mystical goddesses. But then your vision glanced across the crowd of professional football players, all fixated on you and nobody else, stroking their cocks to the exact pace your holes got filled. 

“I-I-, fuck-…” you whimpered as felt yourself once again near the edge.

“What, are you gonna cum again, sweetheart?” Steve moaned, rolling his hips up into you in a synchronized rhythm, “I can feel you-, christ, you clench down so fucking tight when you’re all stuffed like this,” he snaked his fingers down to strum your aching and overly sensitive clit, your frame nearly bucking away from him as he bullied the painfully puffy pearl. 

“It’s too much, fuck-, I don’t think I can take it anymore,” you heard yourself cry, feeling as if you might actually pass out. 

“No, no, baby, you can, you can,” your boyfriend declared determinedly, not slowing down one bit at the sight of your pout, “you can take it, you can cum with the both of us inside of you.”

“B-but it’s so much, I-”

“Don’t worry, we’ve got you, don’t we, Buck?”

“Right here, doll,” Bucky’s warm palm slid down your front and grasped your left tit, his whole arm curving over you like a seatbelt holding you upright and close to him, “just fall and we’ll catch you.”

And with that, your pour pussy poured out everything it had, tears spewing from your eyes at the intensity.

“Aah!” 

Convulsing, you nearly tumbled to the tile below, but they both held you close, safely in their grasp as well as far down on their cocks as your gushing core clambered around them and nearly expelled them entirely. 

Maybe you fell asleep, for even a second, because that’s what it felt like when you blinked your eyes open once more to find your drowsy frame situated on the floor, the lingering aid from a few of the men to get you relocated still remaining as you blinked up at all of them.

Had it truly been that many cocks that had in one way or another been inside of you today?

Smiling up at all seven of them from your position on your wobbly knees, you let your mouth fall open and your tongue roll out once last time as they furiously jerked themselves to completion before you, the grin on your face only growing wider as their cum began to paint your skin.

Twitching and panting, the majority still let their touch linger needily as they floated back down to earth. 

Broad chest heaving with every deep breath, “babe,” Steve bit down on his smirk as he gazed down at the decorated state you were now in, “say thank you to the guys for taking such good care of you.” 

Making your gaze go on a round to catch each and every one of their doting stares, you uttered breathlessly, “thank you.”

© 2023 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[urdreamydoodles]

MCU Characters x Reader (Part.1)

How they react when you are angry with them (Part.1)

Characters: Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanoff, Bruce Banner, Clint Barton, Bucky Barnes, Sam Wilson, Peter Parker (Tom H.), Stephen Strange & Thor Odinson

I'm back in my MCU era, thanks to Agatha All Along, so expect a lot of MCU headcanons, feel free to request those!

Tony Stark

- When you’re angry with Tony, he’s a little stunned. He’s used to being able to charm his way through things or brush issues off with a joke, but the moment he realizes you’re genuinely upset, he feels the ground shift a little. Tony’s mind races, calculating what he did wrong, and for a second, he considers ignoring the problem—but not with you. You mean too much to him, and he can’t stand the idea of pushing you further away.

- He doesn’t immediately know how to apologize, so he leans into his classic defense mechanism: humor. He’ll try to make you laugh, throwing out quips, hoping you’ll crack a smile. When that doesn’t work, he gets a little awkward, mumbling things like, “This is why I avoid real feelings, you know?” as he fumbles through an apology. He’s not used to admitting fault, but with you, he’s learning to swallow his pride.

- Tony goes all out when he realizes he needs to make it up to you. He’ll throw himself into making amends, maybe even a little too extravagantly. Expect some grand, over-the-top gesture—a private jet to Paris, a limited-edition piece of tech he’s been tinkering on, or a fancy dinner in some exclusive place with an outfit he’s bought just for the occasion. He’s not subtle, and he knows it, but he’ll do anything if it means a smile from you.

- When the big gestures don’t work, he takes a different approach. He shows up at your door, looking strangely vulnerable, with something small and meaningful. Maybe it’s a handwritten letter he’s scribbled out, confessing how much he hates it when things aren’t okay between you two. It’s raw, real, and completely unlike Tony, but he means every word. This time, he wants to show that he’s willing to put the ego aside for you.

- Once you finally let him back in, Tony wraps you in his arms and doesn’t let go. He’ll joke that he’s not letting you get mad at him again, and maybe throw in a flirty quip about “testing his limits,” but there’s something deeper there too. Being loved by you has changed him, and he’s willing to work on himself for the first time in a long time. With you, Tony’s found a softness he didn’t know he had, and he’s not going to risk losing it.

Steve Rogers

- Steve Rogers doesn’t like conflict, especially not with you. When he realizes you’re angry, he immediately wants to address it and resolve it, hoping it won’t escalate. He tries to have a calm, level-headed conversation, but he can see that maybe it’s too soon. Steve’s patient, though; he’ll give you space if you need it, even if it pains him to let go for a while.

- While you’re cooling off, Steve takes time to reflect, replaying the situation in his mind, wondering where he went wrong. He’s his own worst critic and can be hard on himself, especially when it comes to you. He’ll try to see things from your perspective, understanding that sometimes his old-fashioned sense of right and wrong can be rigid. He’s willing to bend if it’s what’s needed to bridge the gap between you.

- When he approaches you again, he’s soft-spoken and earnest, offering a sincere apology. There are no excuses, no justifications—just him, owning up to whatever hurt you. His gaze doesn’t leave yours; he wants you to know he truly means it. And as he speaks, he promises he’ll do better, vowing to always listen to you and consider your feelings.

- To make it up to you, Steve chooses something simple but thoughtful, probably something he knows you love. It could be as quiet as a walk through your favorite park or as gentle as a handwritten note tucked into a book you’re reading. Steve understands that sometimes, it’s the little things that mean the most. He’ll give you the space to talk, letting you vent if you need to, always steady, always attentive.

- Once the air clears, Steve is more affectionate than usual, holding your hand, pressing soft kisses to your forehead, grateful to be back in your good graces. He values trust deeply and doesn’t take your forgiveness for granted. Steve knows relationships take work, and he’s fully committed to making it work with you, one respectful conversation at a time.

Natasha Romanoff

- Natasha doesn’t like it when things are off between you two, but she’s used to people being mad at her. Initially, she tries to shrug it off, acting like she doesn’t care, maybe even trying to ignore it. But you’re different. You’re not just anyone; you’re someone she actually trusts, and seeing you upset with her hits her hard.

- Natasha is far more comfortable dealing with enemies than emotional confrontations, so when she finally comes to you, she does it in a roundabout way. She might casually ask, “Are we good?” as if it’s not a big deal, but the nervous tension in her voice betrays her. She’s not great at apologies, so her attempt is awkward but sincere. It’s clear she’s trying, even if she doesn’t always have the words.

- To make it up to you, Natasha doesn’t go for big gestures but rather something deeply personal. She’ll take you to a place she loves—a quiet spot on a rooftop, a hidden café she discovered, somewhere she can let her guard down. She’s careful, almost shy, as she opens up a little about herself, sharing stories she rarely tells. In her own way, she’s letting you know how much she values you.

- Natasha doesn’t usually do comfort, but she’ll go out of her way to make you feel loved and safe. Maybe she’ll surprise you with breakfast or bring you something she knows you’ve been wanting. She pays attention, after all, even if she doesn’t always show it. Little by little, she’ll find ways to let you know that she’s there, committed to making things right.

- When you finally forgive her, Natasha breathes a sigh of relief, leaning in for a hug that lasts a beat longer than usual. She’s not big on words, but she’ll whisper something soft and sincere, just for you. Natasha’s fiercely protective, and after a falling-out, she’s even more attuned to making sure you feel cared for. She’ll stay close, a steady presence at your side, her quiet way of showing just how much she values you.

Bruce Banner

- When you’re angry with Bruce, he’s instantly anxious, worried he’s done something terribly wrong. Conflict isn’t his strong suit, and he’s painfully aware of his capacity for anger. He’s cautious, almost timid, when he realizes you’re upset, giving you space and time. He doesn’t want to make things worse or risk saying the wrong thing.

- Bruce spends time overthinking the situation, dissecting every detail. He questions himself, often getting caught in a loop of self-blame, wondering if he’s ever really been suited for a relationship. But even though he’s scared of confrontation, he values you too much to leave things unresolved. He wants to show you that he’s willing to work through whatever the issue is.

- When he finally comes to you, Bruce’s apology is soft, heartfelt, and a little self-deprecating. He’ll stumble through his words, not wanting to sound defensive, and there’s an earnestness in his gaze as he tries to convey just how much he wants to make things right. He’s not perfect, but he’s open to listening and doing better.

- To make it up to you, Bruce goes for something intimate and personal. He knows you appreciate small gestures, so he’ll show up with something that reflects his feelings for you—maybe a small book he thinks you’d love, or a little experiment from the lab that made him think of you. He’s shy about it, maybe a little embarrassed, but it’s his way of showing he cares.

- When you finally forgive him, Bruce visibly relaxes, wrapping you in a hug as if he never wants to let go. He’s careful, soft, and almost tentative, savoring the warmth of your embrace. Bruce cherishes the trust you give him and is deeply grateful to have someone willing to weather his insecurities. He might even joke, “You’re way too patient with me,” but the gratitude in his voice is genuine.

Clint Barton

- When Clint realizes you’re angry with him, his first reaction is a mix of regret and a slight laugh. He can’t believe he’s managed to mess things up this badly with you, of all people. He knows he tends to joke around a bit too much, so he tries to laugh it off at first, but when he sees how serious you are, his grin fades. He’ll look a bit awkward, rubbing the back of his neck, knowing he’s got some work to do.

- Clint’s never been one to give big, elaborate apologies. Instead, he’ll pull you aside, speaking quietly and genuinely. He’ll admit that he messed up, explaining that sometimes he forgets to take things seriously or considers others’ feelings the way he should. It’s a simple, heartfelt apology, showing his honest side that not many people get to see.

- Once he’s apologized, Clint is all about making you laugh. He’ll start cracking jokes, doing his best impressions, and even pull some ridiculous faces just to get a reaction out of you. Clint knows humor is his best weapon, and he’s shameless about using it if it means making things right. He’s determined not to let you stay mad at him for long, no matter what it takes.

- When his jokes don’t quite cut it, Clint switches gears and puts effort into something he knows will mean a lot to you. He’s a guy who pays attention to the little things, so he’ll show up with your favorite takeout, a warm blanket, or maybe even a funny book he picked up just for you. He knows that it’s the small gestures that can speak volumes.

- After things settle down, Clint wraps you in a warm, comfortable hug, one arm wrapped around your shoulder, making you feel like everything’s back to normal. He’ll joke about how lucky he is that you put up with him, throwing in a wink, but there’s a hint of seriousness behind his words. Clint doesn’t take his relationships for granted, and he’s grateful you’re in his life, even when he messes up.

Bucky Barnes

- Bucky’s heart sinks when he sees that you’re angry. He’s used to pushing people away, and now that he’s got you, he’s terrified of losing you over a misunderstanding. Bucky’s first instinct is to retreat, his mind already whispering that maybe he doesn’t deserve this, doesn’t deserve you. He’ll avoid confrontation if he can, hoping things might smooth over on their own.

- But when he realizes he needs to talk to you, he’s hesitant, nervous, almost as if he’s bracing himself for rejection. Bucky approaches you carefully, speaking in a low, almost shy voice. He struggles with apologies, but he looks you in the eyes, opening up about how hard he finds it to express his feelings. He’s used to running, and being with you is the first time he’s tried not to.

- Bucky tries to make it up to you in the most low-key, thoughtful way possible. He’s not one for grand gestures, but he’ll do something meaningful and heartfelt, like leaving you a note explaining how much you mean to him or bringing you something that he knows you love. He’s nervous about whether it’ll be enough, hoping you can see the sincerity in his actions.

- When he feels things softening between you, Bucky relaxes just a little, offering his support in any way you need. He’ll stay close, maybe cooking a meal for you or sitting quietly with you, sharing a comfortable silence. He wants you to know that he’s there, without needing to say much, because he’s always believed that actions speak louder than words.

- When you finally forgive him, Bucky is beyond relieved. He’s more open with his affection, drawing you into a tight embrace, his touch lingering as if he’s afraid to let go. He knows he doesn’t have many people he can count on, but he’s grateful that he can count on you. Bucky’s still working on believing he deserves happiness, but having you in his life makes him want to try.

Sam Wilson

- Sam immediately notices when you’re angry, and his first instinct is to find out what’s going on. He’s straightforward and doesn’t like tension hanging in the air, so he’ll ask, “Alright, what did I do?” in his calm, genuine way, hoping you’ll be willing to talk it out. He’s good at reading people, but he wants to hear it from you directly.

- Sam listens intently when you explain what’s bothering you, nodding and giving you his full attention. He’s respectful and thoughtful, making sure you know he understands where you’re coming from. He’s not the type to dodge blame; if he’s at fault, he’ll own up to it right away. There’s no defensiveness, no excuses—just an honest desire to make things right.

- To make it up to you, Sam takes you on a simple, meaningful outing—something where the two of you can connect and have fun. He’s all about shared experiences, so maybe it’s a long walk, a favorite food spot, or even a small adventure he’s planned just for you. He’s careful, attentive, making sure the focus is on you and helping you feel valued.

- When things calm down, Sam offers a mix of humor and reassurance, wrapping his arm around your shoulder and promising to do better. He’ll look you in the eyes and say something like, “I don’t like seeing you mad. Tell me if I mess up again.” He’s genuine and open, showing you he wants to grow from this experience and be a better partner.

- Once everything’s back to normal, Sam goes the extra mile, making sure you’re laughing and relaxed. He’s always there to lift you up, pulling you in for a warm, affectionate hug and giving you his full, unwavering attention. Sam’s presence is solid, reassuring, and he’ll make sure you know just how much he values having you in his life.

Peter Parker (Tom H.)

- Peter’s heart sinks when he realizes you’re angry with him. He’s young, a little clumsy with emotions, and absolutely hates the idea of upsetting you. His mind starts racing, thinking of everything he could have done wrong. He gets a little panicked, maybe even rambling apologies before he knows what’s going on, hoping you’ll give him a chance to explain.

- When you tell him what’s bothering you, Peter listens carefully, nodding along with wide, earnest eyes. He’s genuinely sorry, his voice soft as he stumbles through an apology. He’s never been great at handling relationship tension, but he’ll try his best to make sure you know how much he cares and how sorry he is for letting you down.

- To make it up to you, Peter goes for something heartfelt, maybe even a bit awkward, but completely sincere. He’ll show up at your window with a little homemade gift, something quirky and thoughtful—perhaps a playlist he made just for you or a funny little gadget he put together in the lab. He’s earnest, a little shy about it, hoping you’ll see how much effort he’s putting in.

- Peter spends extra time trying to lift your spirits, using every ounce of his playful personality to make you laugh. He’ll crack jokes, do silly impressions, or even attempt a bad dance routine just to get you smiling again. He knows he’s a bit of a dork, but he doesn’t mind if it means cheering you up. Peter’s all about making you feel comfortable and loved.

- When you finally forgive him, Peter’s face lights up with relief. He’ll pull you into a warm, enthusiastic hug, holding you close and babbling about how he’s “the luckiest person in the world” to have someone like you. He’s young, optimistic, and just incredibly happy that you’re not mad anymore. To Peter, you’re his world, and he’ll always do whatever it takes to make you feel special.

Stephen Strange

- When Stephen realizes you’re angry with him, he’s a bit taken aback. He’s used to being right and doesn’t often see things from others’ perspectives, so it takes him a moment to understand the weight of the situation. His initial reaction might even be a little defensive, but he quickly catches himself, knowing that with you, he has to try harder to listen and understand.

- Stephen struggles with apologies, often trying to explain away his actions or getting caught up in technicalities. He’s intelligent and analytical, but that doesn’t always work when emotions are involved. Eventually, though, he manages to offer a genuine apology, admitting that he’s not always the easiest person to be with and that he respects you enough to take responsibility.

- To make things right, Stephen will probably use a bit of magic to create something special just for you. It might be a small charm to keep you safe, a little illusion to make you smile, or even a glimpse into some place you’ve always wanted to see. It’s his way of saying he cares, using the one skill he knows best to bring you a little joy.

- As he tries to smooth things over, Stephen is careful, more attentive than usual, and visibly trying to understand your emotions. He may not be great at expressing his own feelings, but he’s willing to try if it means keeping you close. He’ll listen to you, nodding thoughtfully, and maybe even opening up a bit about his past mistakes and how much he values you.

- Once you forgive him, Stephen is visibly relieved, though he keeps it subtle. He gives you a small smile and pulls you close, brushing a gentle kiss to your forehead as he wraps his arms around you. He might even joke, “Guess I need to work on my bedside manner,” but there’s genuine affection behind his words. Stephen knows he’s lucky to have you, and he’s determined to keep learning how to love you better.

Thor Odinson

- Thor is visibly surprised when he realizes you’re angry with him. He’s naturally cheerful and doesn’t take most things too seriously, so the idea that he’s done something to upset you takes him off guard. At first, he tries to brush it off with a booming laugh, but when he sees the seriousness in your eyes, his smile fades. He immediately wants to fix things, willing to do whatever it takes to get you to smile again.

- Thor is quick to apologize, his voice earnest as he promises he didn’t mean to hurt you. He’s not one to overthink things, but he’s deeply sincere, and his apologies come straight from the heart. He’ll look you in the eyes and tell you he values you and never meant to cause any harm, his words laced with the kind of honesty that only Thor can deliver.

- To make it up to you, Thor goes all out. He’ll sweep you off on a grand adventure, maybe a spontaneous trip to Asgard (or at least what remains of it), or he’ll bring you somewhere beautiful and awe-inspiring. Thor loves to celebrate life and wants to remind you of all the incredible experiences the two of you can share. His enthusiasm is infectious, and he hopes that a bit of excitement will make things right.

- As you spend time together, Thor is extra affectionate, showering you with praise and hugs. He’s genuinely sorry and makes sure you feel loved and appreciated, maybe even telling you tales of his own mistakes and what he’s learned from them. He might tease himself a bit, but it’s all to make you laugh and remind you of his dedication to you.

- When you finally forgive him, Thor’s smile lights up the room. He laughs, pulling you into a bear hug, lifting you off your feet, and spinning you around. There’s nothing subtle about his relief and joy, and he’s not afraid to show it. Thor values you immensely and will do everything he can to make sure you know how much you mean to him, promising that he’ll try to be a little more mindful in the future.

[florasheart]

ya’ll don’t understand the pain when you try to search for x reader fics with a certain character only to find incorrect quotes or those short imagines with other characters

[aceofheartsssss]

YEAH, WHAT THEY SAID ^ Happy birthday, Bucky!!!

og pic found on a post by @gay-jewish-bucky

[dameronology]

marvel men + love languages

steve rogers - physical touch + words of affi

the sacred combo!! steve is a clingy mf - either always having his arms wrapped around his s.o, a hand on their leg or on their waist, and if he's not with them, he'll be texting you all day, asking how you are and just chatting. steve has had to learn to live every day like it's his last, so he'll never go to work, bed, or even to the shops, without telling you he loves you. it's just part of his routine, really.

bucky barnes - acts of service

bucky is not very good with words, or with expressing himself. even before hydra, it was something he struggled with. so, acts of service are his main love language. it can be little things - making coffee in the morning, putting the laundry away when he knows you're busy - or bigger things, like taking your car into the shop when you forget, or building new furniture, or shaking down your weird co-worker who was kinda mean the other day. he finds so much purpose in just making your life easier (in a healthy way!!).

sam wilson - quality time

sam is a man of quality time. he has to work away quite a lot and is always on the go with work and his tasks, but when he does see you - and he makes sure it's a fair amount - he tries to make it count. hell, it doesn't even matter what you do, as long as he's with you. sam does try to make sure you're always having a good balance of chill time and fun activities though, so he always plans the best day.

frank castle - words of affirmation + gifts

aight this might seem weird bc frank is not very good with words (try and make him form a sentence without a swear word or abbreviation, i dare you) but the ones he does say, he always means. especially when he says that he loves you and would probably kill for you. but, it's frank's famously bad way with words that make you realise how much he loves you - because you're the only person he will verbally open up to and be a complete and open book with. as for gifts, every single one he has ever bought you has been the most thoughtful, sweet things; stuff you wouldn't even think to buy yourself. it's just a testament for how well he knows you.

matt murdock - physical touch

this one feels fairly obvious tbh, because alongside his hearing, matt's touch is his the sense he relies on most. he loves your voice and the way you sound but most of all, he loves the way you feel. whether it's the feeling of your skin against his, your fingers all tangled up, or when you kiss him, he just fucking loves it. physical touch is matt's favourite way of knowing you.

[x-press-it-reblogs]

As in: Can't reblog fast enough This made me cry T^T Captain smug Wilson ^^ <3 I'm gonna read it over and over! It so good! Thank you so much T^T

I wanted to reblog it sooner but stuff happened and then I thought I did. But now, I'm sure it's done!

Hi, this is a request for

MARVEL MULTIVERSE - The Game

I am very interested in Greek mythology AU with Sam Wilson. (Female reader.)

I don't know how much you had planned for it but if you don't have anything planned for now this is what could work: (If you already had something planned, ignore this ^^)

Maybe a slight rivals to lovers? As I have something on the side with him cooking about an OC also using wings but as an owl, maybe something around that.

Thank you :D ✒️

WISDOM

⤷ SAM T. WILSON

ᯓ★ Pairing: Sam T. Wilson x fem!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: romance, action, fantasy

ᯓ★ Request from: MARVEL Multiverse

ᯓ★ Story type: one shot

ᯓ★ Word count: 5.6k

ᯓ★ Summary: you and Sam never really got along, but maybe things between you two will change if you have to go on a quest together

ᯓ★ TW(s): nothing

ᯓ★ Hi guysss!! I'm back! the fever finally healed and I'm back stronger than ever!!

ᯓ★ Comment if you want to be added to the taglist (specify if you want the everything taglist or for a specific character)

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ MARVEL Multiverse - choose an AU, pair it with your favorite character and make a request!

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language

The sun dips low over the horizon, a burning ember casting its last golden light across the sprawling cliffs of Mount Olympus. The air is thick with the scent of wild thyme and sun-warmed stone, the distant crash of the sea below a steady rhythm that pulses through the ancient land. You perch at the edge of the precipice, your talons scraping against the rock as your feathers ruffle in the evening breeze. You’ve always preferred this hour—when the day begins to yield to the velvet quiet of night. It is yours, as much as the wings on your back or the keen edge of your sight.

The humans below are lighting their lamps, preparing offerings to the gods. Some, no doubt, will be meant for you. They always pray to you for wisdom, for guidance in the dark. An owl’s keen vision, they say, pierces the shadows where secrets hide. It’s a role you fulfill willingly. Not for them, but for the small spark of satisfaction it brings—to know that when they’re lost, they seek you out.

The sudden rush of air behind you draws your attention, your senses flaring in instinctive alarm. A moment later, a figure lands with an easy grace, the wide sweep of wings folding neatly against a broad back. The feathers gleam dark in the fading light, their edges tipped in a soft bronze that catches the sun’s last rays. You sigh before you’ve even turned to face him.

“Sam,” you say, your voice flat, though your pulse has quickened. “What are you doing here?”

He grins, his expression annoyingly smug. He’s always grinning, as if the world exists solely to amuse him. You’ve often wondered how he can carry such irreverence in the face of divinity—as if being chosen as the God of the Sky is a casual affair, not a mantle that demands respect.

“Can’t a guy enjoy the view?” he says, spreading his arms wide to indicate the sweeping vista behind him. “Figured you might appreciate some company out here, Wisdom.”

You bristle at the nickname. “I don’t need company.”

“Yeah, I can see that,” he says, eyeing your solitary perch. “What is it with you and the whole lone-sentinel act? You’re not the only one with wings around here, you know.”

“Your wings are showy,” you snap, your gaze flicking to the sleek expanse of feathers at his back. “Built for speed and spectacle. They’re nothing like mine.”

“Showy?” He places a hand over his chest, feigning offense. “I’ll have you know these wings have saved countless mortals from storms, fires, and the occasional poorly aimed lightning bolt. But sure, let’s call them showy.”

You roll your eyes, turning back to the horizon. He always knows how to needle you, to find the exact tone of teasing that leaves you balancing precariously between irritation and… something else. Something you refuse to name.

“What do you want, Sam?”

“You’re no fun, you know that?” he says, stepping closer. His voice softens, just enough that it brushes against your defenses. “I wanted to see if you’d heard.”

“Heard what?” you ask, though you keep your gaze fixed on the distant horizon. You don’t trust him when he’s like this, his usual bluster replaced with something quieter, something that stirs a strange ache in your chest.

“Zeus has called another council.”

Your feathers twitch, betraying your annoyance. “He always calls councils. Half the time, it’s just to hear himself talk.”

“This one’s different,” Sam says, his tone serious now. “Word is, there’s trouble brewing in the mortal world. Something… unnatural.”

That catches your attention. You turn to face him fully, your sharp gaze locking onto his. “Unnatural how?”

“That’s what we’re supposed to find out,” he says. “But you know how these things go. A lot of posturing, a lot of blaming, and not much else.”

“And you came here to warn me?” you ask, suspicion lacing your words. “Why?”

He shrugs, the movement casual, though there’s a flicker of something in his expression that you can’t quite place. “Maybe I figured you’d want a heads-up. Or maybe I just wanted to see the look on your face when I told you.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “You’re insufferable.”

“And you’re predictable,” he shoots back, the grin returning to his lips. “Come on, Wisdom. Don’t tell me you’re not even a little curious.”

You hate that he’s right. You’ve always prided yourself on being above his games, on keeping your distance from his reckless charm. But there’s a spark of intrigue now, a question that won’t be ignored. If there’s something unnatural threatening the mortal world, it’s your duty to understand it, to face it. And if that means enduring Sam’s presence… well, you’ve faced worse challenges.

“Fine,” you say, your voice clipped. “But don’t think this means I’m going to tolerate your nonsense.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he says, though the mischievous gleam in his eyes tells you otherwise.

The two of you take flight together, your wings slicing through the cooling air as the night deepens around you. You’ve flown alongside him before, but it’s never felt quite like this. The tension between you is a thread pulled taut, vibrating with each beat of your wings. You glance at him out of the corner of your eye, noting the ease with which he moves, the confidence in every motion. It’s infuriating, how effortless he makes it seem.

“Try to keep up, Wisdom,” he calls over the rush of wind, and before you can reply, he dives, a blur of dark feathers and laughter.

You grit your teeth and follow, your wings folding against your sides as you plummet after him. The air tears past you, and for a moment, there’s nothing but the sheer exhilaration of the fall. Then you snap your wings open, catching the wind and leveling out beside him. He glances at you, his grin wide and triumphant.

“Not bad,” he says, and you resist the urge to wipe that smug expression off his face.

The two of you streak across the sky, the world below a patchwork of shadows and faint light. You’ve always felt most alive in the air, where the burdens of divinity seem to fall away. And yet, with Sam beside you, there’s an edge to that feeling, a sharpness that leaves you breathless in a way you don’t quite understand.

When you reach the council chamber, the air is thick with tension. The gods are gathered in a semi-circle, their voices a low hum of discontent. Zeus stands at the center, his presence commanding as always, though his expression is grim.

“You’re late,” Athena says as you and Sam enter, her sharp gaze flicking between the two of you.

“Blame him,” you say, jerking a thumb in Sam’s direction.

“I’ll take full responsibility,” Sam says, his tone light, though his posture is respectful. “Wouldn’t want to tarnish her impeccable reputation.”

Athena sighs, clearly unimpressed, and turns her attention back to Zeus. “Shall we begin?”

Zeus nods, his voice booming as he addresses the assembly. “Mortals have been whispering of strange occurrences. Crops failing overnight, rivers running dry in hours, creatures appearing where they should not exist. These are not the workings of the Fates, nor of any god in this room. Something is amiss.”

The murmurs grow louder, and you exchange a glance with Sam. For once, his expression is serious, his brow furrowed as he listens. It’s a rare thing, to see him so focused, and it sends a ripple of unease through you.

Zeus continues, his gaze sweeping the room. “We must discover the source of this disruption. I will require volunteers to investigate.”

Before you can think better of it, you step forward. “I will go.”

Sam steps forward as well, his voice steady. “So will I.”

The room falls silent, and you can feel the weight of their gazes on you. Zeus nods, his expression approving. “Very well. The two of you shall go together. Find the source of this disturbance and put an end to it.”

You glance at Sam, your heart sinking. Of course it had to be him. This mission was going to be difficult enough without his infuriating presence. But there’s no turning back now. The path ahead is set, and you have no choice but to walk it—or fly it—together.

The mortal world feels strange as you and Sam step into its realm. Your wings, bound and hidden beneath heavy cloaks, feel unnatural, almost stifled. Every step on the uneven dirt road reminds you of the limitation you’ve imposed on yourself for this mission. Beside you, Sam walks with an easy stride, as if being forced to ground himself doesn’t bother him at all.

“You’re quiet,” he says, his voice low enough to blend with the evening breeze.

“Observation requires silence,” you reply curtly, your eyes scanning the horizon. The village where you’re supposed to start your investigation is just ahead, its cluster of thatched-roof houses dimly lit under the fading light of the sun.

Sam chuckles softly. “You can’t just say you don’t want to talk to me?”

“I thought that much was obvious.”

Despite your tone, his grin widens. He always seems amused when you’re short with him, which only irritates you more. But there’s no time for bickering now. The closer you get to the village, the heavier the air feels, thick with unease. You glance at Sam, and his face is serious for once, his jaw tight as he surveys the scene ahead.

The two of you enter the village cautiously, careful to keep your steps measured and your faces neutral. The streets are nearly deserted, and the few people you see hurry past without making eye contact. It’s a stark contrast to the lively villages you’re accustomed to, where mortals chatter and laugh late into the night.

“Something’s definitely wrong here,” Sam mutters, his gaze flicking between the shadows.

You nod. “We’ll find out more in the morning. For now, we need somewhere to stay.”

It doesn’t take long to find the village’s only inn, a small, creaky building with a faded sign swinging above the door. The innkeeper eyes you suspiciously as you step inside, his gaze lingering on your cloaks. You lower your hood slightly, revealing just enough of your face to disarm him.

“Travelers?” he asks, his voice gruff.

“Yes,” you reply. “We need a room for the night.”

His eyes dart to Sam, then back to you, before he nods. “Only one left.”

You sigh internally, already anticipating the argument that’s sure to come. But before you can say anything, Sam slides a coin across the counter and gives the man an easy smile.

“We’ll take it.”

The innkeeper hands over a key and mutters directions to the room. You follow Sam up the narrow stairs, your irritation simmering just below the surface. When you reach the room, you stop in the doorway, taking in the sight of the single, narrow bed pushed against the far wall.

“Perfect,” you say dryly.

Sam shrugs, dropping his pack onto the floor. “Hey, it’s better than sleeping outside.”

You glare at him. “I’ll take the floor.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he says, leaning against the bedpost. “You’ll be sore and miserable tomorrow, and we need to be at our best.”

“Then you take the floor,” you counter.

“I’m not sleeping on the floor either,” he says with a grin. “Guess we’ll have to share.”

Your feathers bristle beneath your cloak, but you keep your expression neutral. You don’t have the energy to argue further, and you know he’s right\u2014you’ll need to be rested for whatever comes next.

“Fine,” you say tightly. “But stay on your side.”

Sam chuckles, his eyes glinting with mischief. “Promise.”

You roll your eyes and turn away, slipping off your cloak and carefully tucking it into a corner. Without your wings bound, you feel slightly more at ease, though the thought of sharing a bed with Sam keeps your nerves on edge.

The two of you settle in awkwardly, lying as far apart as the narrow bed allows. You keep your back to him, your body rigid as you stare at the wall. For a while, the room is silent except for the faint creak of the inn and the occasional muffled sound from outside.

“Relax, Wisdom,” Sam says softly after a while. His voice is closer than you expect, and you can feel the warmth of him just behind you.

“I am relaxed,” you reply stiffly.

“Sure you are,” he says, his tone teasing but gentle.

You don’t respond, focusing instead on slowing your breathing. Eventually, your exhaustion begins to catch up with you, and your body starts to soften against the mattress.

When you wake in the middle of the night, the room is dark, the faint glow of moonlight seeping through the cracks in the shutters. It takes you a moment to realize why you feel so warm, so\u2026 comfortable. Then you notice the arm draped over your waist, the steady rise and fall of Sam’s chest pressed against your back.

Your first instinct is to pull away, but something stops you. He's holding you loosely, his body relaxed and unguarded in sleep. It's an intimacy you never expected from him, and for a moment, you let yourself simply feel it. The heat of his skin, the softness of his breath against your hair, it's almost enough to make you forget who you are, what you are.

But the moment doesn't last. Your mind catches up with your heart, and you shift carefully, trying to extricate yourself without waking him.

“Y/N?” His voice is groggy, barely more than a whisper.

You freeze, caught. “Go back to sleep,” you mutter.

He hums softly, his arm tightening around you just slightly. “You're warm,” he murmurs, his words slurring with sleep.

Your heart pounds in your chest, and you don't trust yourself to speak. Instead, you lie still, willing your breathing to slow. It takes a long time for your racing thoughts to settle, but eventually, sleep finds you again, this time, with Sam's warmth still wrapped around you.

The next morning, you wake to the sound of birds outside the window and the faint glow of dawn creeping into the room. Sam is already awake, leaning on one elbow as he watches you with an unreadable expression.

“Morning,” he says, his voice soft but teasing. “Sleep well?”

You push yourself upright, your cheeks burning as you avoid his gaze. “Don’t read into it,” you say quickly. “It was an accident.”

“Sure it was,” he says, his grin widening.

You groan, shoving the blanket off and standing. “Come on. We have work to do.”

As you gather your things and prepare to face the day, you can feel his eyes on you, his presence a steady weight that you can’t ignore. This quest is going to be far more complicated than you anticipated, and not just because of the danger lurking in the mortal world.

The village stretches before you in the muted light of dawn, its narrow paths and crooked buildings casting long shadows across the dirt roads. Despite its eerie stillness, there’s an energy beneath the surface, a tension that vibrates in the air like a string pulled taut. You and Sam move through the streets side by side, cloaks drawn tightly to obscure your wings. His presence is a steady weight at your side, grounding you even as your senses remain alert for the slightest sign of trouble.

The innkeeper had mentioned strange occurrences—livestock disappearing without a trace, fields blighted overnight, people vanishing into the forest and never returning. There’s no clear pattern, no sense of what might be causing it, only an underlying fear that has driven the villagers to the edge. You suspect the answer lies deeper than what mortal eyes can see, and it’s your responsibility to uncover it.

Sam stops suddenly, his hand brushing your arm to catch your attention. His gaze is fixed on a group of villagers gathered near the well, their faces tight with worry as they speak in hushed tones. You glance at him, and he gives a small nod, a silent agreement to approach together.

The villagers stiffen as you draw near, their eyes darting to your cloaks. You’ve learned how to carry yourself among mortals without drawing too much attention, but their wariness is palpable.

“We’re travelers,” you say, keeping your voice calm and even. “We heard about the troubles in your village and wanted to offer our help.”

A man steps forward, his face lined with age and worry. He studies you carefully, his gaze lingering on Sam before returning to you. “What kind of help could strangers offer? The gods themselves seem to have turned their backs on us.”

“Perhaps the gods haven’t turned away,” Sam says, his tone light but firm. “Perhaps they’ve sent help without you realizing.”

The man narrows his eyes, clearly unconvinced, but another voice cuts in before he can respond.

“They vanished into the forest last night,” a woman says, her voice trembling. “Three of them. My son among them. There was no sound, no struggle—just gone.”

You exchange a glance with Sam. The forest. It’s always the forest. In every tale of danger and despair, it’s the place where shadows deepen, where answers lie hidden beneath layers of mystery and fear.

“Take us to the edge of the forest,” you say. “We’ll look for them.”

The villagers hesitate, their fear a tangible thing that hangs in the air between you. Finally, the older man nods, gesturing for you to follow.

The walk to the forest is tense, the silence broken only by the crunch of dirt beneath your boots and the occasional rustle of leaves in the breeze. When you reach the treeline, the man stops, his face pale as he stares into the shadowy depths.

“This is as far as we go,” he says. “If you’re wise, you’ll turn back too.”

“We’ll manage,” Sam says with a confidence that seems to unnerve the man further.

The villagers retreat, leaving the two of you alone at the forest’s edge. The air here is different, heavier, as if the trees themselves are watching. You feel a shiver run through you, not from fear but from the strange energy that pulses beneath your skin.

“You feel it too,” Sam says, his voice low.

You nod. “It’s not mortal. Something else is here.”

Without another word, you step into the forest, the canopy above swallowing the light and plunging you into a world of shadow and whispers.

The deeper you go, the stronger the presence becomes, a thrumming energy that prickles against your skin. The forest is unnaturally quiet, the usual sounds of birds and insects replaced by an oppressive stillness. You keep your senses sharp, your eyes scanning the underbrush and your ears straining for the faintest sound.

Sam walks close beside you, his usual lighthearted demeanor replaced by a quiet focus. It’s strange to see him like this, all of his attention honed in on the task at hand. You’d always thought of him as reckless, too carefree to take anything seriously, but now you’re beginning to see another side of him.

“Stay close,” he says suddenly, his voice soft but firm.

“I’m not a child, Sam,” you reply, bristling at his tone.

“Didn’t say you were,” he says, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Just don’t want anything sneaking up on you. You know, since you’re so predictable.”

You glare at him, but the faint amusement in his eyes disarms you. For a moment, the tension between you eases, and you allow yourself a small smile in return.

The moment is short-lived. A sound ripples through the forest, low and guttural, like the growl of a predator. You freeze, your hand instinctively moving to the hidden weapon at your side. Sam steps in front of you, his body tense as he scans the trees.

“Did you hear that?” you whisper.

“Yeah,” he murmurs. “Stay behind me.”

Before you can argue, something moves in the shadows—a blur of motion too fast to track. You barely have time to react before it lunges at you, a creature of sinew and shadow with glowing eyes that burn like embers.

Sam moves faster than you thought possible, his body a blur as he meets the creature head-on. His blade flashes in the dim light, slicing through the air with precision. The creature snarls, its movements erratic and unnatural, but Sam holds his ground, his strength and skill undeniable.

You shake off your shock and draw your own weapon, moving to flank the creature. Together, you and Sam fight as if you’ve done this a thousand times before, your movements instinctively synchronized. The creature is relentless, but it’s no match for the two of you. With one final strike, it lets out a piercing screech and dissolves into nothingness, leaving behind only the faint scent of sulfur.

You lower your weapon, your chest heaving as you catch your breath. Sam turns to you, his face flushed but triumphant.

“You okay?” he asks, his voice tinged with concern.

“I’m fine,” you reply, though your hands are still trembling. “What was that?”

“Something unnatural,” he says grimly. “Zeus wasn’t kidding about this.”

You glance at him, your irritation forgotten in the wake of the battle. For the first time, you feel a flicker of gratitude for his presence. Whatever lies ahead, you’re glad you don’t have to face it alone.

The rest of the day is a blur of tension and discovery. You and Sam uncover more signs of the creatures’ presence—claw marks on trees, patches of scorched earth, and the faint remnants of an otherworldly energy that clings to the air like smoke.

By the time night falls, you’re both exhausted, your bodies aching from the strain of the day. You find a small clearing and decide to make camp, the fire you build casting flickering shadows across the trees.

As you sit beside the flames, the silence between you feels less heavy now, less strained. There’s an unspoken understanding in the way you pass each other food, in the way Sam adjusts his cloak to shield you from the chill.

“You fought well today,” you say quietly, surprising yourself with the admission.

“So did you,” he replies, his voice warm. “Not bad for someone who’s ‘predictable.’”

You huff a laugh, the sound surprising you both. For a moment, the tension between you fades, replaced by something softer, something that feels almost like trust.

When you finally lie down to rest, the danger of the day lingers at the edges of your thoughts, but Sam’s presence is a steady comfort.

The forest feels endless, the thick canopy above blotting out the sun and casting everything in shadow. Days blur together as you and Sam press forward, following the faint trail of devastation left by the creatures. Every step deeper into the woods feels heavier, the oppressive energy seeping into your bones. Whatever force drives these monsters, it’s ancient and powerful, far beyond what you initially expected.

The attacks grow more frequent. It’s as if the creatures sense you’re getting closer to the source, their aggression increasing with every skirmish. The battles leave you winded and bruised, your divine strength tested in ways you hadn’t imagined. Even Sam, with all his confidence and skill, is beginning to show signs of wear. Still, he pushes forward, his determination unwavering.

You try to ignore how often his focus shifts to you—how his eyes flicker to check on you during fights, how his hand brushes yours when the silence stretches too long. It’s disarming, the way he looks at you like you’re more than just his rival, more than just another god forced to endure this quest. You don’t know how to process it, so you bury the thoughts deep and concentrate on the mission.

The final confrontation comes without warning. One moment, you and Sam are navigating a narrow ravine, the air thick with the scent of moss and damp earth. The next, the ground trembles beneath your feet, and the creatures emerge, their forms twisting and shifting like shadows given life. These are not like the ones you’ve faced before. They’re larger, more feral, their movements faster than your eyes can track.

You barely have time to draw your weapon before they’re on you. The battle is chaos, a blur of flashing claws and snarling teeth. You and Sam fight as one, your movements synchronized in a way that feels almost instinctual now. You’ve learned to anticipate each other’s actions, to move in tandem like two halves of a whole.

But even with your combined strength, the creatures are relentless. One swipes at your side, its claws tearing through your cloak and leaving a jagged gash across your ribs. You grit your teeth against the pain and strike back, your blade finding its mark. Beside you, Sam takes a blow to the shoulder, the force of it sending him stumbling before he recovers and drives his sword through the creature’s chest.

The fight feels endless, each second stretching into an eternity. You’re bleeding, your body aching with the strain of battle, but you refuse to falter. Beside you, Sam is equally battered, his movements slowing as exhaustion takes its toll.

Then, finally, the tide turns. With one final, desperate effort, you drive your blade into the heart of the largest creature. Its body convulses, a horrific screech tearing through the air before it collapses and dissolves into ash. The remaining creatures falter, their connection to the source severed. One by one, they fall, their forms dissipating into nothingness.

The silence that follows is deafening. You stand there, chest heaving, your weapon still clutched tightly in your hand. Blood drips from the wound at your side, staining the ground beneath you. Sam is equally battered, his armor dented and his face smeared with dirt and blood.

For a moment, neither of you moves. The realization of what you’ve done, what you’ve survived, crashes over you like a tidal wave. The euphoria is overwhelming, a rush of relief and triumph that leaves you dizzy.

Before you can stop yourself, you close the distance between you and throw your arms around Sam. He catches you instinctively, his arms wrapping around you as you bury your face in his shoulder. His body is warm and solid against yours, grounding you in the chaos of your emotions.

You don’t know how long you stay like that, clinging to him as if he’s the only thing keeping you upright. When you finally pull back, your hands still rest on his shoulders, your breaths mingling in the small space between you.

His eyes meet yours, wide with something that looks like shock. For once, he’s speechless, his usual smirk nowhere to be found. You’re not sure who moves first, whether it’s you or him, but suddenly the space between you disappears.

His lips press against yours, warm and urgent, and the world falls away. The pain, the exhaustion, the forest around you—it all fades into nothingness. There’s only Sam, his hands steady on your waist, his lips moving against yours with a tenderness that takes you by surprise.

You don’t know how long the kiss lasts. It could be seconds or hours, but when you finally pull back, you’re both breathless. His forehead rests against yours, his eyes searching yours for some kind of answer.

“Was that—” he starts, his voice rough, but you cut him off with another kiss, softer this time.

When you pull back again, you can’t help the small smile that tugs at your lips. “Shut up, Sam.”

He laughs, the sound warm and genuine, and for the first time, you feel the weight of your rivalry dissolve completely. Whatever lies ahead, you know you’ll face it together—and for now, that’s enough.

The ascent to Olympus is both triumphant and wearying. After days of trekking through mortal lands and battling shadows, your bodies ache with fatigue, yet victory fuels each step. The air grows lighter as you near the summit, the golden halls of the gods shimmering in the distance, their brilliance blinding after the dim forest.

Sam walks beside you, his cloak billowing in the crisp wind. His wounds, though tended to, still show faint traces of the battles you’ve endured. His steps are sure, though his occasional glances at you betray a quiet worry, as if even now he fears for your well-being. It’s a side of him you never expected to see, one that has burrowed deep into your thoughts and refuses to leave.

When you finally reach the gates of Olympus, the other gods await you. Their eyes are bright with curiosity and perhaps a hint of respect. Even Apollo, lounging against one of the golden pillars, seems to straighten slightly as you and Sam stride forward.

Zeus rises from his throne, his imposing figure framed by the glow of lightning that seems to pulse around him. He regards you both with a mixture of approval and something sterner, his gaze lingering on the faint scars and bruises you carry.

“You have returned,” Zeus says, his voice booming across the courtyard. “And victorious, no less. I confess I had my doubts, but you have proven yourselves worthy.”

“Was there ever a question?” Sam quips, though there’s no malice in his tone. His smile is easy, but you catch the tension in his shoulders as he stands before the King of the Gods.

Zeus’s lips twitch, as if suppressing a smile. “You’ve done more than I asked. The creatures that plagued the mortals are no more, and the balance is restored. For that, I owe you a debt.”

He steps forward, his presence dominating the space. “For your bravery and sacrifice, I will grant each of you one wish. Whatever lies within my power to give, it shall be yours.”

The offer hangs in the air, heavy with promise. The other gods lean in, their curiosity palpable. It’s rare for Zeus to grant such a boon, and you can feel their eyes on you, waiting to see what you will ask for.

You open your mouth, but Sam speaks first, his voice steady and clear. “I know what I want.”

Zeus nods, gesturing for him to continue.

“I wish to marry her,” Sam says, and your heart stops. His eyes meet yours, unwavering, as if daring you to object. “I want to build a life with her, not just as gods but as equals. And I wish for a domain of our own—a place where we can rule together, as others worship and honor us, just as they do the rest of you.”

A stunned silence falls over the courtyard. You can feel the weight of every gaze, every whisper of disbelief and curiosity. Even Zeus looks momentarily taken aback, his brow furrowing as he studies Sam.

“You ask for much,” Zeus says, his tone measured. “To bind yourself to another god is no small request. And a domain of your own… Where would you lay claim?”

Sam stands tall, his confidence unshaken. “The winds,” he says simply. “The skies already belong to you, Zeus, but the winds are untamed, wild and free. Let us rule them together. Let them carry the prayers of mortals to the heavens. Let them be ours.”

Zeus considers this, his gaze flickering to you. “And what of you? Is this your wish as well?”

You can hardly breathe. The weight of Sam’s words presses down on you, your mind reeling. You’ve spent so much of your existence keeping others at arm’s length, refusing to let anyone get too close. But now, standing before the gods, Sam’s proposal laid bare for all to see, you realize the truth.

You want this. You want him.

“Yes,” you say, your voice steady despite the storm of emotions inside you. “It is my wish as well.”

Zeus nods slowly, his expression unreadable. “So be it.”

He raises his hand, and the air around you shifts, crackling with divine energy. The sky above darkens momentarily, the winds whipping around you in a frenzy before they suddenly calm. You feel the power settle into your bones, a new connection to the world around you, as if the very air has become an extension of your being.

“It is done,” Zeus declares. “You are now gods of the winds, your domain as vast and untamed as the skies themselves. As for your union…” He pauses, a faint smile curling his lips. “Let it be known across Olympus and the mortal world alike. You shall be husband and wife, partners in rule and in life.”

The gods erupt into applause, some more enthusiastic than others. Aphrodite claps her hands together, a pleased smile on her face, while Ares merely grunts in approval. Even Athena gives a small nod, her sharp gaze softening as she looks at you and Sam.

Sam turns to you, his eyes shining with something you can’t quite name. He extends his hand, and after a moment’s hesitation, you take it. His grip is warm and steady, grounding you in a way that nothing else ever has.

“Guess we’re stuck with each other now,” he says, his grin crooked but genuine.

You laugh, the sound light and free. “Guess so.”

As the gods continue their celebration, you and Sam stand together, the weight of your new roles settling over you. But for the first time in a long time, you feel at peace. Whatever challenges lie ahead, you know you’ll face them together. And for now, that’s enough.

[bethsvrse]

me when writing

[tea-writes19]

yes | poly!b.b. s.w. j.t.

pairing: bucky barnes x sam wilson x joaquin torres x f!reader

summary: your followers are confused on who you are dating

warnings: established relationship(s), polyamorous relationship, swearing, fluff, pure crack tbh, comedy, suggestive content

a/n: this is purely for my own enjoyment. please be aware of the warnings and pairing. don’t like don’t read. okay that’s all, enjoy :)

liked by joaquintorres, samwilson, buckybarnes, and others

yourusername: word of advice: don’t go camping with bucky

tagged: @/samwilson @/joaquintorres @/buckybarnes

view comments below

user1: oh to be y/n

user2: fr i wanna be friends with the avengers too

user3: wait i thought she was dating one of them?

user4: no lol they’re just friends

user5: nah she’s def sleeping w/ one of them

user6: sam’s face😭😭

user7: he looks so annoyed😭

joaquintorres: legend has it sam is still on that rock pouting bc we woke him up to watch the sunrise

samwilson: maybe i would’ve been less grumpy if bucky hadn’t made us hike 3 miles to see it…

yourusername: lol ok mr. i haven’t had my morning coffee yet

buckybarnes: i didn’t force you to come with

samwilson: your exact words were (and i quote) get your ass up or else

user8: 😭😭

samwilson: i distinctly remember you groaning the whole time up too

yourusername: maybe, but you don’t have any proof

joaquintorres: uhhhhh….

user9: seeing joaquin’s post first makes this comment section even funnier

user10: wait what did joaquin post??

user9: a pic of y/n looking grumpy watching the sunrise

user10: omg i’m dying😭😭

user11: same!

buckybarnes: i’m not that bad

yourusername: doubt but ok

joaquintorres: liar liar pants on fire

user12: i’m starting to think bucky is that bad

user13: frfr

samwilson: STARTING TO?!?

liked by samwilson, buckybarnes, yourusername, and others

joaquintorres: not pictured: me losing feeling in my legs

tagged: @/yourusername @/buckybarnes @/samwilson

view comments below

yourusername: damn i see how it is

samwilson: haha take that!!

joaquintorres: sorry love but sam bribed me w/ a new flight manoeuvre

yourusername: it’s ok guess i’ll just go kms😔

user14: love?👀

user15: y/n we love you please don’t kys

user16: #justicefory/n

user17: are you dating y/n?

user18: omg they’re just friends

user19: he called her love so…

user20: aw i was kinda hoping it was sam

user21: #teamjoaquin stays winning

samwilson: not pictured: how you lost said feeling in your legs

yourusername: ^^^

joaquintorres: i don’t think insta allows that kind of activity

buckybarnes: didn’t stop sam last time

user22: AYY YO WHAT??!!

user23: OH MY GOD

user24: SAMUEL ARE YOU IMPLYING WHAT I THINK YOU’RE IMPLYING

user25: i’m so confused rn…

user26: wait are sam and joaquin together???

user27: not bucky mentioning storygate tho🫢

peterparker: i love being left out😒

yourusername: pete you know damn well why you were left out

peterparker: doesn’t make my fomo hurt any less

samwilson: you can come with next time instead of buck

buckybarnes: YOU’RE GOING TO REPLACE ME WITH THE KID?!?!

samwilson: yes

liked by yourusername, joaquintorres, peterparker, and more

samwilson: this trip would have been better without bucky

tagged: @/buckybarnes @/joaquintorres @/yourusername

view comments below

yourusername: say it louder for those in the back🗣️

user28: not all of them hating on bucky😭😭

user29: like sir what did you do?!?

buckybarnes: none of you appreciate me and it shows

yourusername: i thought i showed my appreciation perfectly fine last night🤨

joaquintorres: maybe don’t take us hiking for 5 days straight next time…

user30: HELLO??? Y/N!?!

user31: y’all wanna share smth with the class👀

user32: wdym by that y/n huh?

user33: i was going to say their friend group is so wholesome but after y/n's comment idk anymore

user34: lmao fr

user35: same like didn’t joaquin call her love in a comment on his post???

user36: maybe it’s just a nickname and she’s really dating bucky?

user35: what FRIENDS call each other love?!?

peterparker: me watching everyone in the comments freaking out be like: 🫢☕️

user37: tell us what you know!!!

samwilson: gotta keep em on their toes

user38: spill the beans peter…

liked by joaquintorres, samwilson, yourusername, and others

buckybarnes: i for one had a lovely time

tagged: @/yourusername @/joaquintorres @/samwilson

view comments below

samwilson: ofc you did😒

yourusername: i liked it when you let us take a break that one time

joaquintorres: best 2 mins of my life

user39: are y’all ok?😭😭

yourusername: no :)

user40: wait a sec…are those y/n’s legs in the hammock??

user41: +1 point for #teambucky

user42: i’m starting to think it’s a throuple situation or smth bc what😭

user43: you’re so real for that

user44: are you or are you not dating y/n

buckybarnes: …

user45: that wasn’t a no!

liked by joaquintorres, peterparker, buckybarnes, and others

yourusername: morning workouts >>>

tagged: @/buckybarnes @/joaquintorres

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user50: i think a little more than working out is going on girlie

user51: ^^^

joaquintorres: wdym that’s working out too…

user52: SIR—

buckybarnes: workouts without sam >>>

samwilson: I WAS TIRED YOU FUCK

yourusername: god just kiss already🙄

joaquintorres: who says they aren’t rn

yourusername: wait you right…it’s been awfully quiet

user53: OH

user54: ayy yo what’s bucky and joaquin doing👀

joaquintorres: working out duh

buckybarnes: duh🙄

user55: 😭😭

user56: two guys working out zero feet apart bc they’re gay

buckybarnes: so close…we’re bisexual

user56: my bad

user56: two guys working out zero feet apart bc they’re bisexual

joaquintorres: there we go👍

peterparker: oh would you look at that, i was left out again…

yourusername: PETE YOU HAD SCHOOL

buckybarnes: get off your phone and pay attention in chem

peterparker: the fact you know my schedule is slightly disturbing

user57: only slightly?

peterparker: everything mr. barnes does is scary

user57: valid

yourusername: even me🥺

peterparker: especially you

yourusername added to their story —>

[caption: guess where we’re going, wrong answers only!]

story replies

joaquintorres: the moon to visit steve

yourusername: we’re flying to the moon in our favorite rocketship

joaquintorres: zooming through the sky, little einsteins!

user58: rfk jrs swear-in

user59: bahamas?

user60: so are you and sam dating?

peterparker: ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME

liked by joaquintorres, buckybarnes, samwilson, and others

yourusername: italy i love you and your cats

tagged: @/joaquintorres @/buckybarnes @/samwilson

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user61: GIRL WHO ARE YOU DATING???

yourusername: yes

user62: yes to who?????

yourusername: yes

user63: oh my god

user64: are they…all dating each other???

user65: quick where’s the girl who predicted this

user42: i’m here🙋‍♀️

user66: you know what, good for them

user67: get that d y/n

user68: damn girl leave some for the rest of us😭😭

yourusername: meet my friend peter @/peterparker

peterparker: wait what

joaquintorres: i don’t think i’ve ever seen bucky and sam so close to murdering each other and us before

peterparker: that’s bc you weren’t at the airport in 2016

yourusername: ^^^

yourusername: if looks could kill we’d be dead rn

buckybarnes: if you guys had taken 5 minutes longer i would’ve cannibalised sam

samwilson: man come on

user69: how yellowjackets of you

yourusername: i promise you he doesn’t understand that reference

joaquintorres: but we do and we agree

user70: damn i wanna go to italy now

user71: i can’t believe we got cap polycule before gta 6

user72: the tumblr girlies are going to go crazy

user73: it’s like destiel becoming canon again over there

user74: it’s already trending😭😭

peterparker: why do i even bother to talk to y’all anymore

yourusername: bc you love us

samwilson: atp you’re our adopted son

buckybarnes: i don’t want stark’s kid tf

buckybarnes added to their story —>

[caption: because y/n hard-launched us as the kids these days would say]

story replies

user75: please which one is teaching you slang😭

joaquintorres: yay i beat out the other two

samwilson: this is pure favoritism

buckybarnes: i didn’t see you complaining last night…

yourusername: joaquin is never going to let this go😔

user76: first ever story and its confirmation of the polycule

user76: god i love it here

liked by buckybarnes, joaquintorres, yourusername, and more

samwilson: venice (feat. y/n making us stop to pet every cat she saw)

tagged: @/yourusername @/joaquintorres @/buckybarnes

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user77: y/n is so valid for that

user78: my fav polycule

user79: i love how we’re all just like yeah, makes sense

user80: tbf it does make so much sense

user81: we were all wondering who y/n was fucking when really they were all fucking each other

yourusername: bucky said we could keep one!

samwilson: i swear to god if i find a cat in your carry on y/n…

yourusername: uhh i have to go

buckybarnes: my exclusion from the post is payback for my story isn’t it?

samwilson: good to see your brain works sometimes buck!

user82: oof someone get some water for that burn

user83: so does this mean alpine is getting a friend?

samwilson: no

buckybarnes: yes

yourusername: yes

liked by yourusername, buckybarnes, samwilson, and others

joaquintorres: we in the spaghetto!

tagged: @/samwilson @/yourusername @/buckybarnes

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yourusername: PASTA PASTA

user84: the caption😭😭

user85: i need to know the reason behind slide 2

joaquintorres: sam was yelling at us bc of the cat😔

yourusername: he’s trying to make us get rid of her

buckybarnes: he’s being very rude to gelato

samwilson: WE CAN’T JUST GRAB A CAT OFF THE STREET AND SHIP IT BACK TO THE USA

yourusername: not with that attitude you can’t

user86: live laugh love the spaghetto

user87: omg i love that tiktok😭

peterparker: i call dibs on being gelato’s godfather

joaquintorres: that’s your sister

samwilson: i can’t believe i’m a father of three

buckybarnes: i’m still not acknowledging the kid as mine

liked by samwilson, yourusername, joaquintorres, and more

buckybarnes: they complained about this trip a lot less

tagged: @/joaquintorres @/yourusername @/samwilson

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joaquintorres: i’m not saying it’s because we had running water but that’s exactly what i’m saying

buckybarnes: i still question why you joined the air force sometimes

samwilson: damn so that’s how you want to play huh

buckybarnes: i don’t know what you’re talking about🧑‍🦯

user88: please tell me that’s gelato🥹

yourusername: sadly no but i wanted to keep this one too

user89: love how y/n is petting a different cat in each post

user90: she’s one with the cats

user91: the cat-whisperer fr

yourusername: damn that’s a good pic of me

peterparker: narcissistic behavior

yourusername: you would be too if you were me

user92: you go queen!!

user93: i’m loving the self confidence!

yourusername added to their story —>

[caption: welcome home gelato🫶🏻]

story replies

user94: stop she’s so cute🥹🥹

user95: omg adorable🤍

peterparker: i love my baby sister

© tea-writes19 do not repost, translate, or copy

[romanoffshouse]

Bucky: Y/N, what does IDK, ILY, and TTYL mean?

Y/N: I don’t know, I love you, talk to you later.

Bucky: Alright, I love you too, I'll ask Sam.

Y/N: Wait- Bucky , no-

[geeky-politics-46]

Surgery Headcanon

How would my favorite Marvel men react to you having surgery. 

I'm getting my gallbladder taken out in a couple of weeks, it will be my first surgery ever, so this is 100% self-indulgent. That's part of why I've been so absent this year, I've had an organ rebelling.

Doctor Stephen Strange 

Will ask who your doctor is to see if he knows them. If not, he may send a referral to a trusted former colleague on your behalf. He's not letting you under the knife unless he knows you have a good surgeon.

Will tell you how routine the surgery is if you are starting to worry. Almost a bit blasé about your concerns, after all, bedside manner was never his strong suit as a surgeon. Plus, it really is a routine, laparoscopic procedure. Way less intricate & dangerous than neurosurgery.

1000% will try to micromanage everything once you're at the hospital prepping for or immediately out of surgery. He wants to see your chart. He wants to know what your most recent vitals are. Hell, he may have even asked if he can observe the surgery. Partly, it's him being overprotective, partly it's because he misses being a doctor.

Definitely breaking into the doctor's lounge for the good coffee, not the instant crap in the cafeteria.

After you are home, he will be vigilant about making sure you take your pain meds & will check your incisions to make sure everything is healing well. You are in very safe, if slightly neurotic hands.

Secretly, or not so secretly, enjoying getting to play doctor again to take care of you. Looking forward to when you are well enough that you can play doctor and patient the really fun way.

Bucky Barnes 

May actually be a bigger mess than you are. Thanks to Hydra, medical anything makes his anxiety shoot through the roof. Now piled on top of that, he feels out of control & helpless to make you feel better.

Would have to be physically dragged out of your hospital room, so the hospital staff just lets the whole “visitors hours” thing slide.

The second you wake up, he is by your side asking if you need anything. Probably didn't sleep or even sit down the entire time you were in surgery.

If you even make an odd face, he's asking if you are in pain, and he has become a huge pain in the ass for your nurses. 

May have thought about threatening your surgeon about if something went wrong.

Either guard dog mode, or he completely shuts down. There is no in between. 

Afraid he's going to break you while you are recovering. Offers to sleep on the floor or on the couch just in case. Doesn't want to let you out of his sight until you are healed. 

Steve Rogers

Tells you over and over how everything will be okay and that you are in good hands.

May tell you stories about how much hospitals and medical stuff has improved since he was so sick before the serum.

Reads up on your surgery and your doctors. He wants to understand as much as he can about what is going on. He probably has more questions for the doctor than you do.

Puts on a brave face for you but secretly will be a little nervous. He hates seeing you sick or in pain, and he can't help but worry a little bit.

Will respect hospital rules but will stay up until the very last minute of visiting hours are over. Knows the names of every nurse and doctor treating you. 

Definitely has flowers or a stuffed bear for you as soon as you wake up from surgery. 

Dotes on your every need once you are home and watches you like a hawk. The first few days, he doesn't even let you go to the bathroom by yourself. You can't get away with shortcutting your recovery under his eye. 

Sam Wilson

Buys you a cute, silly stuffed version of whatever you are having surgery on to make you laugh. See my new stuffed sad gallbladder plush as reference here.

All the nurses love him, and he likes to crack jokes with all the staff. Offers to help with anything he can but mostly tries to stay out of their way.

Trying to make you smile all the way until they wheel you to the OR. He doesn't want you to be scared or nervous. 

Like Steve, he will put on a brave face but will be nervous once you are in surgery. Lots of pacing back & forth. Lots of trips to the coffee machine.

Takes care of you once you are home but not quite as mother hen as Steve. Will let you judge what is best for you, but will 100% call you out if he sees you doing something the doctor told you not to.

Will also rat you out to your doctor if you don’t follow their instructions. He doesn't want to snitch, but he'd also rather not be the one to scold you.

Loki

Doesn't like the idea of someone operating on you. Trained surgeon or not, they are still just a simple Midgardian.

Doesn't like the hospital one bit. Comments on the color and decor, even the hideous hospital gown you have to wear. Partly to make you laugh, partly because it was all truly hideous.

If your surgeon even hesitates on a question you ask, Loki will assume they aren't the best and demand another doctor. You may have to talk him down a bit. He's a prince, after all, and he wants to make sure you are in the best hands possible.

The whole thing seems a bit barbaric to him. He would much have preferred using magic or Asgardian ways to heal you, but alas when on Midgard. 

Secretly terrified something will happen to you, but would never tell you he's worried. Doesn't like that he can't do anything to help you.

Is not very used to taking care of people, and as royalty, he's the one used to being waited on, but he will try his best to do whatever you need him to do.

Will probably mostly ignore instructions from the doctor so you are in charge of that part of your care, but he will beg to accelerate your healing with his magic if he can.

Eddie Brock & Venom

Venom brings you chocolates, which he then eats after you tell him he can, and says not to worry because if the doctors don't take proper care of you he will bite off their heads and eat their brains.

Eddie is nervous but trying to be brave, so you won't be scared. It doesn't help that Venom keeps telling Eddie not to make you nervous, which then, in turn, makes him nervous. He will try to make jokes and keep you entertained however he can.  

Eddie and Venom try not to argue while they wait for you to get done with surgery. The last thing you need is to wake up and find out that they ended up in the psych ward for talking to/arguing with themselves in the waiting room. They are on their best behavior.

Both of them try to wait on you hand and foot after you get home. You've had to eat several well-meaning but truly gross breakfasts in bed so as not to disappoint either of them. They mean so well, but neither of them can cook beyond tater tots.

You have woken up to Venom staring at you because “one of us has to watch you at all times until you are recovered”. He took that 100% seriously. He has also stuck tendrils under the bathroom door like cat paws.

One great thing about Venom is the fact that thanks to his tendrils, he can literally get anything you need from around the apartment in seconds without you or Eddie having to get up. This makes him one of the best nurses ever. All you have to do is hint that you want something and boom, it's there.