There Is A Severe LACK Of Sam X Reader Fics Out Here And This One Is Beautiful Oh My Gods

There is a severe LACK of sam x reader fics out here and this one is beautiful oh my gods

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.