#samtember 2020 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sebbytrash · 4 years

Text

Riley

Summary - Sam is having one of those nights so you take him to your secret happy spot within the compound.

Pairing - Sam Wilson x Reader

Warnings - None that I can think of.

A/N - Short but sweet. written for Samtember for the “Riley” prompt @samwilsonfest

It’s dark. The complicated kind, the kind that can go one of two ways, coax secret smiles and tentative touches or ragged breaths and haunted eyes. Neither are the kind you want, and so you sit idly in the kitchen of the Avengers compound, wishing for the first and avoiding the second. The coffee in your mug is cold, barely touched, sitting abandoned on the table beside your head.

Footsteps, quick but quiet, interrupt your thoughts about nothing and you sit up quick enough to forget about the mug and send it crashing to the floor in a wave, a sad brown sea of forgotten.

Sam halts in front of you, wide eyed and wary, his muscles rigid underneath his shirt pulled tight across his chest. Oh, what a chest. “Shit. You scared me.” He says it like an accusation, and then bends to pick up the pieces of your broken mug as you slide off the table and hope that the ground will give way and let you be swallowed up if only to avoid his eyes.

“Sorry, Sam.” You say automatically, and then add, “In fairness, you scared the shit out of me, too.” You mop up the coffee with your sweater, stripped from you in a less than graceful motion and still, ignore Sam’s eyes.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right. I’m sorry, too.” He laughs low, stands with the pieces and throws them in the trash, you watch wistfully and half heartedly wish to be one of those pieces, anything to avoid Sam’s scrutiny in the dead of night, “I wasn’t expecting anyone to be up.”

“Oh, you know me. Anything for the last slice of Bruce’s apple pie.” You stand, attempt to scoot past him to wring your sweater in the sink and brush up against that oh so lovely chest of his, feel the weight of your fingertips just aching to touch.

“Any reason why you were lying on the table like an animal?” He asks, amusement evident in his tone and so you look, finally, at his eyes and allow yourself a small smile, a tiny moment of self indulgence to get lost in the decedent walnut depths and find yourself somewhere along the edge of his lips.

“I heard it’s good for posture.” You blink away your stares, pray that none of that want shows on your face, “Why are you up?”

His face crumples, not into a feeling but out of one, it crumples into a blank dust and you wonder if you can catch the particles in your hands, if you can mould it back to that smile he had just for you. “Couldn’t sleep.” Is all he says and you know instantly that he’s having the second kind of darkness, forcibly stopping your arms from reaching for him when you see the sadness that hides in his eyes.

“Riley?” You whisper it, like a knifed secret and he nods, once, the tiniest dip of his chin and you wonder how much it cost him to admit even that. You have no words to offer him, no wisdom or advice as you sit here avoiding your own traumas and so you grasp at something, anything, that might chase away the shadows behind his eyes. Finally, you consider it, your secret and it takes less than a second to know that Sam is worth the reveal of it. “Wanna come somewhere with me?”

“Sure.” Even he seems surprised when he agrees so readily, takes a step toward you, almost eager and you fight the urge to do the same, to finally find out what it would be like to have that marble-solid body pressed against yours. You mentally scold yourself for the constant turn of your thoughts, that even when he’s a little lost, you still find the time to admire.

You take his hand, a bold move your heart mutters, and lead him to the stairs, up and up and up you both go in the quiet echo, surrounded only by the memories and the glaring fluorescent lights. He lets you lead him without question, even when you pass the communal floors, still says nothing when the last floor dies away and the stairs continue and the cool air begins to spill in beside you. You thrust against the final door, using all your bodyweight to nudge it open and let the breeze dance along your skin.

Sam follows you out onto the empty rooftop, looks around in confusion, “I had no idea this was here.”

“Yeah, nobody does, for some reason.” You walk to your spot, affectionately named but marked only by the memories in your eyes, “I come here to get away. Never seen anyone else up here.”

You wonder if he’ll hear what you say without saying, how you’ve never, not once brought anyone here and yet here he is, brought on the basis of bad dreams. He looks at you and you think he just might.

You sit down on the hard concrete and pat the spot beside you, slip your shoes off and wait until he sits with you, until his body heat bleeds into yours and then lay back. In an instant, the worries disappear, you feel weightless, the sky above you carries it all off and lets you float in the air in between the stars. It’s always like this for you, the sky and the stars, and sight of them here so unhindered by city lights and tall buildings, a solar dusted blanket that wraps around you each night.

“Oh, wow. That’s a view, right there.” He sounds how you feel, and you try not to notice his arm pressed along yours, or the way he smells like hopefulness.

“You see that one there,” You point, try to adjust your angle for him, “That’s Polaris. The North Star.”

“I see it.” He keeps his voice low like he feels the weight of the stars like you do.

“And that there, if you follow it, is the Little Dipper. And there is Cassiopia.” You whisper into the night, watch the breeze carry away your words and the night swallow up your ghosts.

“I didn’t know you knew so much about stars.” He turns to look at you, his now russet eyes that look a little less sad than before, reflecting all that quiet endurance. You grin before you can stop it, the relief at having helped even just a little is simply too large and it overwhelms the rest. There’s just something about the sky up here, with all those stars and worlds and lifetimes in view that makes you a little calmer. Clearly, it was doing the same for Sam.

“I dabble.” You blink at him, refusing to be the one to look away from that stare, “There’s something a little humbling about the sky, dontcha think?”

He looks away and up to the sky, the stars reflect in his eyes like the night sky itself and you know then that you’ll never only see the sky again. Forever it’ll be, the sky and Sam. You hate how much you love it.

He makes a noise of agreement and then, softly, he lets his fingers tangle with yours in that narrow space between you. Your heart leaps straight from your chest and dances among the stars. The breeze picks up, perhaps in response to your heart rate, and you shiver, a little from his touch and a little from the cool air, belatedly remember that your sweater was now a soggy heap in the sink and sigh.

“Your cold.” His fingertips disappear and you ache at the loss and wonder if the moment is over now, if he’ll make you go inside but he simply slips his arm around you, and pulls you tight to him, letting your head rest in the crook of his shoulder, “Here, let me help.”

If there’s a heaven, you think, it’s pretty damn close to this. Or perhaps, it’s less heaven and more purgatory since you both love it, and want more. Ache to be closer than even this.

It’s hours, or minutes, later when the sky is a little less dark and a little more wakeful that he speaks, “Can I ask you something?”

“Hmm? Yeah, of course.” You say, distractedly, caught between the stars and his heartbeat and never wanting to return.

“Why did you take off your shoes?” The question startles a laugh out of you, the unexpected pop to a dazed bubble.

“Oh Sam,” You smile, tilt your head to look at him better, “How else will the stars get in?”

He looks at you in buttery confusion, and then suddenly, like he’s never seen you before, or is seeing you anew. There’s stardust in his eyes and it’s spilling into yours, his moon-washed smile lights up the sky with his resilience and promise.

“Sam…” You begin, and find the word itself swallowed by his lips, gentle against yours with the stars inbetween. He kisses you, all the weight of the sky wrapped up in it and you kiss him back just the same. All the months and weeks of restraint come loose in a tidal wave of want, and need, and love. It lasts a lifetime in a minute, so many unsaids and maybes passed between your lips and his.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a while.” He sighs, forehead pressed against yours like he can’t bare to be apart now that he’s been this close. You know the feeling, fingers gripping his shirt so that the moon can’t carry you away when it leaves.

Still, the admission surprises you, having spent so long hiding your own feelings for fear of rejection, “You have?”

“You are hilariously oblivious, you know that?” He kisses away the protest, kisses you and shows you how much he’s been wanting it, you, and you feel every word of it written on your lips. Even the stars don’t compare. “Ever since I walked in on you trying to sneak that goat into Stark Tower.”

“Sam…” You laugh, both at the memory and of when, “That’s the day we met.”

He smiles, wisps of red and orange from the rising sun dance along his skin, his eyes alight with the fire from within, “Oh, I know.”

Your heart lifts with the sun, a painted star on your soul that begins the new day, your new day. When you kiss him again, in answer to a question that was never asked, you feel the glow on your face and within your chest together, and are reminded, tenderly, that the sun is also a star.

Forever Tags:

@manawhaat @captainrogerss @higherfurtherfasterbby @peculiar-persephone @captain-rogers-beard @chrisevansnco @howlingbarnes @poealsobucky @samingtonwilson @vintagevalentinex @abovethesmokestacks @imhereforbvcky @avengerofyourheart @stormy-thomas @danijimenezv @betheboo55 @palaiasaurus64 @raxacoricofallapatoriuspotter @johnmurphys-sass @katbird787 @sexyvixen7 @jobean12-blog @justreadingfics @justareader @smoothdogsgirl @theliarone @aikibriarrose @timeladylaurel @badassbakers @earinafae @tardis-is-mine @httpmcrvel @bucky2-0 @mocking-rain @sociallyimpairedme @jezzula @bless-my-demons @ign-is @indominusregina @-supernatural-coffee-llama @alwayshave-faith @shifutheshihtzu @mizzzpink @yknott81 @haven-in-writing @xtina2191 @reniescarlett @notsoprettykitty @wickedwerewolf @tatalopes23 @pineapplebooboo @mizzezm @thefridgeismybestie @memory-of-a-goldfish @supernatural-girl97 @standing-onthe-edge @ruinerofcheese @mysweetcookie99

#kale writes #sam x reader #sam wilson x reader #falcon x reader #marvel fanfic #samtember 2020

191 notes · View notes

roboticonography · 4 years

Text

Am I too late for Samtember?

Props to @nevermindirah for reminding me a while back what month it was. 😁

#on your left #sam wilson #steve rogers#samsteve #samtember 2020 #more sam in 2020 #this is my first time drawing them and I’m a little nervous about it #roboart

146 notes · View notes

barnesandco · 4 years

Text

Family

Drabble

Samtember 2020 Masterlist

Sam gets to know a new member of his family.

Samtember Prompt #1: New Beginnings

Pairing: Sam Wilson x Reader

Warnings: Very brief mentions of pregnancy and labor

A/N: I'm going to try to post a drabble for Sam every day of Samtember, and hopefully some one shots, too, when inspiration strikes. Wish me luck!

Also, go check out @samwilsonfest for the prompts list and rules to celebrate Sam Wilson this month!

Sam is a brave man. He thinks he can acknowledge that living his life the way he has required a modicum of courage beyond the everyday. He's faced off against brainwashed super soldiers and frighteningly powerful government agencies gone corrupt, not to mention taking on megalomaniac aliens wanting to destroy life as he knows it, and Sam likes to think he's recovered just fine from all of it.

But this, the strong, sterile whites of the hospital room he holds your hand in, one of his fingers having been fractured by your labor-strengthened grip, and the weight of his newborn daughter on his other arm, supported against his chest, is a feeling even he doesn't think he'll ever conquer. You doze peacefully now, the ordeal of childbirth past, head tilted toward Sam with a faint smile on the lips he knows better than his own.

After taking another second to look at you, he looks down at his baby again -- his. baby. -- and swallows back the lump that grows in his throat. His heart is heavy with love, threatening to burst, and his lungs struggle against the weight of whatever this feeling is, making him lightheaded.

She's a beautiful child. Every parent must think that, he knows, but his daughter really is an angel. Brown skin soft when he strokes a fingertip across her cheek, he suppresses a gasp, becomes breathless instead at the feel of her, all soft and warm and comfortable. He does it again, smile widening and sight blurring with tears.

He doesn't bother with suppressing them. Lets a salty drop slide down, and in his periphery, sees you wake from your catnap. The first thing you see when your eyes open is that watery diamond glinting in the sunlight on your husband's cheek, and you reach out to wipe it off, place a kiss there instead. With his eyes, deep brown full of shining joy, he asks if you'd like to hold your baby, and you say no, and he can tell you're giving him more time to process.

Not that it'll help, with how overwhelmed he is. He takes his free hand and strokes over his daughter's little knuckles, finds the velveteen skin of her tiny palm, and she holds his finger then, tightly. Taking after her mother. He should probably do something about the throbbing in that other finger, the one he's sure is broken, but he's sat transfixed like stone, and happy to stay like this for the rest of his life. With a small hand clutching his, with his wife smiling brightly at him out of the corner of his eye.

"Have you thought about the name, yet?" You ask softly, and he releases a strangled laugh from his aching throat, remembering your last pregnancy induced argument about baby names. Every day nearing the due date had brought more confusion and doubt, and you hadn't been able to pick a name. Hell, you couldn't even narrow it down to a top three.

Sam shakes his head in response. "Just as clueless as you are, sweetheart," he says with a chuckle, shifting his daughter's weight in his arms until you gesture to take her back, and he watches as you hold her close to your chest, her cheeks round and plump and perfect.

"I was thinking of naming her Riley," you say, and Sam meets your eyes, half elated and half disappointed he didn't think of it himself earlier. "Don't do that, Sam, I know what you're thinking," you tell him with a knowing look. "You've had plenty to worry about."

He nods, grateful you understand him so well he never needs to explain himself. "Riley sounds good. Great, actually," he says. "Riley," he repeats, enunciating it clearly, tasting the name, relishing the familiar feel of it, and looking at the lovely girl he's naming after his best friend. There's no one more worthy.

A knock on the door bursts your little bubble, and when Sam grants permission, one of the nurses enter, sheepishly, apology on her face even before she speaks, and when she does, he understands why. "Your friends are asking for you, Mr. Wilson, and rather insistently at that."

Sam nods kindly. "Thank you, miss." Then turning to you, he asks: "You okay with having guests right now, baby? Because if not, they stay out, and I'll go give them the news."

"It's alright, Sam, let them in."

Getting up to open the door, he calls his teammates' attention, and holds the door for the half a dozen Avengers that file in with breaths held hopefully and in wait of the sacred sight inside.

When he closes the door behind him, everyone is murmuring hushed congratulations and looking at Riley as you introduce her, with awe.

"Congrats, buddy, I'm really happy for you," Bucky says, placing a hand on Sam's shoulder with a grin. Sam smiles, nods back with thanks to the chorus that echoes Bucky's sentiment. Wanda asks to hold her, and while she's being transferred to her arms, Sam pulls Bucky back, a little further from the group.

"Hey, listen, man," he begins, clearing his throat. "We only just decided on a name, but both of us agreed a long time ago that we wanted you to be her godfather."

Bucky steps back. Trepidation in his eyes and hope beyond hope in the way his mouth opens and shuts and Sam wonders if he's done something wrong. If he shouldn't have asked. But Bucky's capable of saying no if he wants to.

"Are you sure, Sam?"

"As long as you want to, there's nothing I’d like more." And with a heartfelt yes, that’s settled, and they make their way back to the hospital bed where the baby is finally handed over to Bucky.

The throbbing pain in Sam’s finger has subsided to a dull ache, as he watches Bucky look at his goddaughter with wonder and marvel, before returning Riley to her father, and Sam sits back down in his chair with her in his arms. Your hand covers his available one once more, and his every muscle sings with joy, with elation, at this celebration of light amidst people who have seen so much of the opposite.

Riley, as if on cue at that thought, begins to cry in hunger, and even that sound is a symphony. Accepting his friends’ final congratulations and well-wishes as they leave to give them privacy, he cautiously places Riley in your arms, but does not break contact. Allows her to hold his finger in her hand, eternally connected, and promises to never let go.

#ayesha writes #samtember 2020 #samtember #sam wilson #sam wilson x reader #sam wilson fanfiction #sam wilson fluff

172 notes · View notes

honestlyfrance · 4 years

Text

Sam Wilson just makes Bucky Barnes weak.

#samtember #samtember 2020 #sambucky #sam wilson #bucky barnes #winterfalcon #enlarge bc tmblr sucks!#sam's clothes based on those fatws set pics #AND a bland sweater for bucky bc im brain dead lmao #i love them so much imma CRY #i did this in like three weeks bleh #AND NO I DONT KNOW HOW TO LINE ART AND COLOR SO HERE IT IS #i am still learning fam lol #also shameless fic plug where the scene is inspired!!!#dont repost <3 #i also made this specifically to show you guys that i can draw hands and eyes #france: art #france: works

129 notes · View notes

eachpeachpearplume · 4 years

Text

One day I’ll fly away...

A little thing I have been working on for a while, and I figure @samwilsonfest‘s samtember is a great reason to finally get it done. Day three, birb powers, so I figure it kind of fits the bill...

#samtember 2020 #my art #sam wilson #falcon #mcu #wings #birb powers

124 notes · View notes

linaxart · 4 years

Text

Samtember - Day 30 - Domestic

Sam should know better than to read Bucky's reports with his coffee by now. The cup was a gift from Steve and Sam might have have teared up a bit when he received it 😁

This is the first piece I made for Samtember and the last to post. I'm so excited to finally be sharing it!

⟨don't repost. reblogs appreciated 💕⟩

[ID: A digital drawing of Sam Wilson holding a coffee and a mission report. He looks mildly annoyed and is wearing a yellow sweater and gold rimmed glasses. The white cup has the Captain America shield and "#1 Cap" on black letters. On the background there's a plant. Behind it there's a bookcase with picture frames, a box and books. On the far back the shield lays against the wall underneath a poster with a quote from MLK. The whole scene is made of bright colours and bathed in soft sunlight. End ID.]

#samtember #samtember 2020 #sam wilson fanart #sam wilson #captain america fanart #captain america #the falcon #the falcon fanart #the falcon and the winter soldier #tfatws #digital art #Fanart #marvel fanart #I'm watching the debate and its so horrible i decided to post it earlier #events

83 notes · View notes

softbiker · 4 years

Note

How about #42 on the kisses prompt list? With anyone you feel inspired to write for?? 💜

Prompt 42: Distracting kisses from someone that are meant to stop the other person from finishing their work, and give them kisses instead.

Sam Wilson x reader

3:26 pm

She’s never in her life heard so many pet names - at least, not all at once, and not all directed at her.

To Sam, she’s a thousand sweet synonyms, and he uses them all regularly:

Baby.

Honey.

Sweetie pie.

Sugar.

Each punctuated with a kiss, a soft and sarcastically smacking peck on her cheek, her temple, her ear when she turns her head to try to wiggle away, but his arms around her waist are like a vice. He’d bragged about hitting the gym with Steve and Bucky, but damn she hadn’t quite noticed till now. Her laptop tilts at a dangerous angle across her knees, threatening to spill to the floor and crash both the computer and her hopes of finishing her revision of the spreadsheets her boss had sent her at 4 pm on a Friday.

It is now 3:26 pm. Saturday. The afternoon stretches long even as the days shorten, her usual loungewear uniform of t-shirt and boxers traded out for leggings and Sam’s old para-rescue sweater. He had tucked a blanket across her lap when she settled into work on this project after their late brunch; he thought it wouldn’t take long, he’d work on a few honey-do’s around the house and then they could cuddle-nap and watch Harry Potter because what else is September for?

Three and a half hours later, she’s glued to the screen with no end in sight. Yet.

“Sam. Sammy,” she groans, rolls her eyes. Her palm finds his forehead, tries to shove him away.

“Yeah, babydoll?” he murmurs against her cheek. Last week there had been a new soap vendor at the farmer’s market, and as he snuggles up to her she smells the comforting combination of honeysuckle and lavender; a man soft as petals, sweeter than honey, her heart drifted home to his like a bumblebee, and carried away little pollen pieces of him wherever she went. She’s not sure if the world deserves him.

She’s not sure if she does.

But he’s here.

With a smiling sigh, she closes her laptop, shoves away work and the world, anything that isn’t soft, isn’t Sam. Just for today. Turning her face, she accepts his butterfly kisses, returns a few of her own.

It is 3:31 pm. Any day, every day. As long as he’s here.

#asks #fall drabbles 2020 #drabble #sam wilson x reader #sam wilson x you #sam wilson x reader drabble #sam wilson x reader fic #sam wilson drabble #sam wilson fic #samtember 2020

85 notes · View notes

luke-o-lophus · 4 years

Text

Let's hear it for Captain America!! We are just 10 days away from Samtember 2020!

Did you guys see Mackie's episode on Black Mirror??

#anthony mackie #mackie #mackattack #mackie knows #captain america #falcon #capsam #samtember 2020 #sam wilson #sam wilson fanart #traditional art #mackie fanart #striking vipers

101 notes · View notes

latelierderiot · 4 years

Photo

10. Riley for Samtember 2020! @samwilsonfest

I’ve got another one ready and I’ll try to do a few more, but I can’t promise anything

#sam wilson #samtember #samtember 2020 #riley #sam x riley #sketch #fanart #marvel #mcu

304 notes · View notes

xnovamore · 4 years

Text

Murmurs of the Forest

I had soo much more planned for this event but none got done on time. At least I was able to do this prompt. Anyways this is for Samtember for the promt old friends hosted by @samwilsonfest and my first shot at sambucky.

Sam kept his movements slow and sturdy allowing his wings to sway behind him. He kept them floating just above ground using the specks of gold and silver intertwined in the feathers to illuminate his way.

The extra light was not needed of course. The trees aligning the village always parted to sun like daughters bowing to their honorable mother. The same sun that now bared her weight down on him. Had he been someone else, he would have taken measures to avoid her gaze. Would have waited for nightfall and flew home with his wings between his legs foolishly hoping to escape his judgement.

Sam’s lips twitched up in amusement at the thought. He spares a glance up at the sun seated in her rightful place as judge of all those below. Sam had asked for her forgiveness many many times in his life. Sometimes she had been merciful turning her gaze away from his misdeeds. Others she had been spiteful and cruel dealing him a burn that he could not shake. One that turned his blood to fire and scorched his soul until nothing but darkness was left. Still, he would always carry respect for her as their village taught him no matter how her decision.

But respect does not always equal obedience.

As if reading his thoughts, the sun redirects her attention to the marks lining his skin. She calls the attention of his people moving about the village and runs her beam over each and every bruise imprinted in his skin. Surprisingly, she skips over the biggest one extending from the back of his shoulder to the base of his neck. That one she seemed to deem to be his to keep. A mercy he chuckles to himself.

Already gasps are heard under the beats of wings soaring through the trees. Murmurs and harsh breaths slip through the crowd growing larger and larger the further Sam walked. They recognize the marks and the smell clinging to his skin. Would recognize it no matter how long it’s been from the last time he’d done this. They grow louder feeling embolden enough to make their judgments known through whispers and glares. Sam continues unphased. Judgment from them was meaningless, he stopped caring a long time ago.

In the distance he spots someone taking off into the sky. He notes their face and the direction their heading and sighs at the lecture he will no doubt receive once the messenger reaches his family. He could hear the echoes of his hardheadedness from the last time they had this argument. They had opposed their relationship from the start back when it was simply childhood curiosity over someone new.

And now here Sam was over 15 years later still sneaking off to his wolf.

‘We never learn’ a husky voice murmured in Sam’s ears. Sam had leaned into his embrace gripping those wayward brown strands into a searing kiss. He kissed the lips he had been kept from over and over until their taste was once again imprinted in his mind. Until those arms, one flesh and familiar and the other metal and unfamiliar, embraced him once more with a grip that said they weren’t going to let go again. Until the teeth edged against his shoulder and the question Sam had let go unaware last time came back in full force. ‘We never do’ he agreed breathless and allowed himself to be flipped onto his back. Those blue eyes glowed in the twilight when Sam moved his wings to encircle the body above him and bared his neck. Bucky’s unfiltered happiness took away any free of repercussions the two may face. No one was going to separate them again.

#samtember #samtember 2020 #sambucky #sam x bucky #sam wilson #winterfalcon #sambucky fics #my writing #my post

58 notes · View notes

thundercakes22 · 4 years

Text

Happy Birthday!

Steve checks his watch as he makes his way to the bedroom. 11:57. Just in time. He stops in the doorway and leans against the frame to admire his husband.

Sam is snuggled in bed with a new-to-him first edition Butler tome and a mug of hot cider. His reading glasses perch on the edge of his nose, practically demanding Steve come nuzzle them out of the way.

“You’re staring,” he murmurs, not looking up from his book.

“You’re beautiful,” Steve shoots back, easing into their bed and crawling up Sam’s crossed legs.

“I’m old,” Sam rolls his eyes but sets his book on the bedside table.

Steve settles himself on Sam’s lap, knees on either side of his hips, and drapes his arms over his husband’s broad shoulders. “You’re seasoned, dear. Just the way I like you.”

Sam wraps his wide hands around Steve’s hips. “And what would you know about seasoning?”

Steve snorts. “Well I’m quite acquainted with the little salt and pepper you’ve got going on here,” he says, massaging his thumbs in the growing gray patches at Sam’s temples. Markers of Sam’s creeping mortality that used to scare Steve until his own crows feet appeared popped up. Erskine’s serum was still a mystery to them, but the smallest proof that he would age with his husband was a gift.

Sam likes to remind him that he may have been born sixty years later, but he’s still physically ten years older than Steve. Gideon overheard them once and has called Steve Sam’s sugar baby ever since.

“Cheeky,” Sam drawls, tugging Steve closer. He presses his face into Steve’s neck, exhaling over his collarbones. “On today of all days.”

“Everyday,” Steve whispers, like a promise. He clutches Sam tighter, eyes on the clock on the nightstand.

12:00

“Happy birthday, baby.”

Sam squeezes his hips and tucks his chin over Steve’s shoulder. “Thank you, Steve.” He sighs. “Fifty. Can you believe it?”

Steve snickers. “Huh. I guess you are old.”

“Oh, I’ll show you old,” Sam growls, flipping them over and pressing Steve’s writs into the pillow above his head.

It’s been thirteen years and Sam still takes his breath away. Every year he’s more sure that they’ll get old, but this won’t.

Samtember prompt fill

--23 of 30

#Happy Birthday Sam Wilson #Sam Wilson #Steve Rogers #Sam x Steve #SamSteve #fanfic #mortality and shit #Samtember #Samtember 2020 #let characters age goddamnit

23 notes · View notes

barnesandco · 4 years

Text

Alone Together

Drabble

Samtember 2020 Masterlist

Sam may have an ocean in front of him, but he’s too wrapped up in you, his whole world, to care.

Samtember Prompt #2: Seaside

Pairing: Sam Wilson x Reader

Warnings: Lots and lots and lots of kissing

A/N: I have know idea what I’m doing -- I just know I want to make out with Sam Wilson on a beach. Sue me.

Also, go check out @samwilsonfest for the prompts list and rules to celebrate Sam Wilson this month.

You’ve been watching Sam for what feels like a happy eternity when he puts the book down, the light getting a little too dim to read, and rolls over from his stomach onto his back next to you, closing his eyes to rest them briefly. The impending sunset is casting an array of color and shine across his gorgeous face, and you think, not for the first time, about how unbelievably lucky you are.

His eyelashes lift from his cheeks as he looks at you. “Penny for your thoughts?” He asks with an easy smile, all relaxed and slow and savouring the sight of you propped up on your elbow and looking down at him.

You consider teasing him with a quip as easy as aren’t my thoughts worth a little more than a penny to you? but his tongue wetting his lips distracts you, and you say, “Kiss me, baby,” instead.

And he does. Oh, he does. Reaches up to cradle your jaw in one warm hand and pulls you down so you’re above him, and he places his lips on yours, but only just. Eyes clothes, hearts fluttering, lips doing nothing more than touching, but touching enough that you can feel the smile against your own. He holds you there, lips rasping together, testing your patience, until yours breaks.

You leans down to press your lips firmly together, one hand moving to his chest, resting above his heart where it thrums under your fingertips, and Sam shifts his other hand to your waist, holds you gently, explores your mouth as if he couldn’t recognize the feel of your lips against him in sleep, in death.

Sea salt from dried ocean water gives you something new to relish, and your stomach is doing somersaults as he does that thing with his tongue. The soft gasp it elicits is enough for you to thank God you’re alone out here, and the beach is deserted.

Sam pushes up and turns to put you on your back, and you go willingly, pliant in his arms. Holding his weight on his elbows, he hovers, a cloud of good fortune, smelling of ocean breeze and coconut oil, as he finds his home in your neck. This time, you need only think, kiss me, baby, and his lips are on your pulse point, pleasurable pressure that has your eyes seeing stars before the sun has quite set. You don’t know how he has you feeling fit to burst, like there’s a fire in your belly, growing outwards, exponentially, with kisses only, his hand only on the other side of your neck, stroking the sensitive skin under your ear.

Your own hands switch between stroking through his scalp and clutching at his shoulder when he finds a spot that sends your head spinning, and he knows far too many of those. He has mapped your body out like an atlas, knows every dip and curve, every trench and peak, and right now, he’s relishing the whimpers you are attempting to suppress while he grazes his teeth over your collarbone.

“Kiss me proper, Sam,” you say, pulling him up so his lips meet yours, quelling the flame that burns when his mouth is on your skin, but not extinguishing it. There is plenty of fire left to burn when you get back to a more private setting, but for now, you open your mouths to each other languorously, mouths meeting over and over and over again, tilting to find a new angle, an undiscovered cove, until you are breathless again, and you sigh, opening your eyes.

His smile is blinding, and yours full of more adoration that you can ever express, and he leans forward to kiss your forehead, and you glory in the touch, in the warm feel of him against you, surrounded by the silence at the end of the world, save for the lapping waves, and Sam’s heartbeat above you.

#ayesha writes #samtember #samtember 2020 #sam wilson #sam wilson x reader #sam wilson fluff #sam wilson x y/n #sam wilson x you #sam wilson x reader fluff

74 notes · View notes