#buckyandsam

[amioony]

Bro, I'm so excited for the Falcon and Winter Soldier!!!!

I cant even describe it

[babybatmunch]

Bucky 'nicely' insulting Sam "you are like tony's coffee"

Sam "what? Ho-"

Bucky: "cold. Bitter. And, tasteless"

[pebblescorner33]

Got to spend time with the bestie @95rissaa in Simi Valley a few weeks ago!!! This is a perfect snapshot of our relationship #bestiesforlife #buckyandsam #iknewimadeagoodchoice #ilovehersomuch❤️ #softballprobs #tournamentselfie⚾️💙 #simivalley https://www.instagram.com/p/CQtjFLurSdY/?utm_medium=tumblr

[mavenbrook]

Sam and Bucky save each other’s asses.

[mavenbrook]

How I think interactions between Sam and Bucky play out half the time

[mavenbrook]

sbweek2016: You’re still you

for sbweek2016, Day 2: Genderswap

I hope I got the meaning right

+

When the purple smoke cleared and he saw Sam stand in one piece against the backdrop of fading light and glittery rubble, when Bucky’s heart stopped trying to beat out of his eyes and ears and chest, he locked eyes with his boyfriend, and his eyes flickered down to log the damage done.

Bucky took a step forward, then fell to his knees when they failed to support him, as he laughed. And laughed and laughed and laughed.

+

Bucky couldn’t stop staring and grinning at Sam, who in contrast had a deep scowl on his face, arms crossed over his ches- breasts.

Earlier, as soon as they’d defeated the witch - who’d come from one of the Nine Realms (but, as Thor had loudly and defensively declared, “SHE IS NOT OF ASGARDIAN BLOOD.”) - and the smoke had faded and the light dimmed, Sam, who had been hit with the last spell as the witch had gone down in a blaze of self-righteous screams and vows for revenge, had emerged- a woman.

Oh, he was still Sam alright, with his cutting comments and no-bullshit-except-when-I’m-bullshitting-you attitude (and that glare, who could mistake that glare for anyone else's), but his facial features had softened and rounded out, his shoulders and waist had narrowed, and his hips had broadened.

Thor had consulted Loki, who had at first turned his nose up at their request for information, but Thor had frowned and quirked an eyebrow, and Loki had folded like a house of cards in the desert wind, and told them that the spell was temporary, but was unsure of how temporary. He’d also explained, to no one who asked, that the spell was probably a closing statement to Midgardians’ penchant for gender inequality.

So now that it had been ascertained Sam wouldn’t sustain any lasting harm - except to his ego, Bucky thought maniacally - Bucky was feeling like fate was finally in his favour for once.

Bucky tuned back in when he heard Steve nearing the end of the debrief. His best friend was shooting hesitant looks at Sam, who was still glaring straight ahead at a point above Fury’s shoulder.

“I went in to bring her down and her last spell ricocheted off my shield and hit Sam instead. Loki has checked and said the effects are not permanent, but couldn’t tell us when it’ll fade.”

Fury trained his single eye on Sam, who steadfastedly ignored the scrutiny. “Sam will be off missions until this thing goes away.”

At this, Sam blinked and finally spoke up. “What, no! I can still fight, I’m still me!”

Oh dear god, even his voice had tapered down into a light, lilting note. Bucky’s grin grew wider.

Fury put up a hand, then pressed it to the table to push himself up. “I need you at your optimum. The change in your body weight and mass will only compromise you. End of discussion.”

Sam pushed off his chair, ready to argue further, but Fury was already sweeping out of the room in a dramatic swirl of coat.

Everybody slowly made their way out of the room, giving Sam hesitant but sympathetic looks and pats on his back. Soon, it was just Sam, Bucky and Steve left in the room.

Steve stepped up to Sam, and the (wo)man looked up from glaring at the floor and grinding his teeth.

“I’m sorry, Sam. That shot was meant for me and I let you take it. I should have been more careful,” Steve started, raising an arm to grab Sam’s shoulder out of habit, but stopping halfway before letting his arm drop.

Sam frowned. “This is not on you, Steve. Besides, it’s not permanent, and I can finally learn how Nat does the shit she does, right?” Sam smiled reassuringly at Steve.

Steve stared at Sam, before Bucky saw red creeping up from his collar. Steve looked down and mumbled an excuse before bolting out of the room.

Sam could only blink in confusion. Bucky slinked up to press his chest against Sam’s slender back. His boyfriend had lost an inch or two in height, which was perfect. Sam had already threatened to smother Bucky in his sleep for his jokes about being a mere inch shorter than Bucky, and Bucky - who apparently had zero self-preservation - already had a whole new slew of jokes.

“What was that about?” Sam mumbled to Bucky.

“Oh, nothing,” Bucky said, bending forward and running his nose up Sam’s cooled skin. How the hell did he even manage to smell nice right now. “Just that he hasn’t had much luvin’ from a dame in a while.”

Sam sputtered, then turned in Bucky’s arms, indignantly pushing his stubbled face away.

“I. Am not. A girl,” he growled.

Bucky’s shit-eating grin felt permanently etched into his skin.

“Oh I can see that,” Bucky cooed, running a hand up Sam’s uniformed side from hip to chest, ending with his hand cupped around Sam’s left breast. “You are definitely not a girl.”

Sam just levelled Bucky with an unimpressed look.

Bucky’s grin didn’t diminish. He just leaned forward for a kiss, and Sam never was any good at denying Bucky in this. But when Bucky’s right hand trailed downward as his left hand slithered up to cup Sam’s right breast, he put both palms up - and holy shit did his new hands look small against the bulk of Bucky’s pecs - and pushed his boyfriend away.

“The fuck, Buck?”

Bucky’s eyes were twinkling. “Come on, babe, we could have fun with this while it lasts,” he leered, eyebrows wiggling. He stepped forward again to try and kiss Sam, but Sam turned his face away.

“Bucky- I am not a girl, and this is not my body!”

Bucky leaned back with a quirked eyebrow. “Yeah, I know, but you are still you. Right? And I will always want you.”

Sam paused, blinked twice at Bucky's words and matter-of-fact voice. That was... oddly sweet.

When Bucky sensed that Sam was caving in, he leaned forward to press another kiss to the underside of his jaw. Sam pushed him away again.

“At least bring me home, you bastard.”

[mavenbrook]

sbweek2016: Day 1 - Attraction

for sbweek2016

Day 1: Attraction

+

How it happened was like this:

It was a usual day, where Sam went on his usual run around the cluster of blocks his house was on the corner of. When he was done an hour later, he jogged to his usual diner and was surprised to see it already crowded with students. Sam didn’t understand why he was still surprised, because while usually unusual on a weekday at 7, Sam lived down the road from the university, and Sam remembered from first-hand experience that when in university, nobody slept.

What wasn’t so usual was that as Sam walked in towards his usual booth at the back of the diner, he found some students already there, study notes splayed out all across the cream vinyl tabletop.

Sam raised an eyebrow. He wouldn’t make a fuss, he knew every staff of Mandy’s by name and saw them all as friends who had helped ease him back into normal civilian life. But it was odd, because all of them, as his friends, knew that he needed to sit with his back to the wall, eyes on everything happening in the room.

Sam gave a little frown and a slight shake of his head, before taking a seat at the counter and swivelling around so that his back was to the kitchen. If nothing else, he at least knew Adam in the kitchen and Maryanne and Roxy behind the counter would never hurt him.

Just as he thought that, Maryanne, with her blazing orange hair and motherly tendencies, spoke up, “Sammy, honey! Whatever are you doing here at the counter?”

Sam looked over his shoulder at her bright brown eyes and lipsticked smile, and shrugged. “Just felt like it.”

Maryanne eyed him suspiciously. Then she seemed to catch on to something and her eyes flickered to his usual booth, before her expression morphed into disapproval. Her fists came up to rest on her hips.

“Now who would have done something as silly as giving your booth to someone else,” she huffed, looking around at the rest of the staff, who all seemed pretty busy doing their own thing.

Sam shrugged again, “No big deal, Maryanne, I’m fine here.”

“Like hell you are, you can’t even sit properly.” When it looked like she was leaning over to tell the group of students to move, Sam turned around to face her fully, holding out a placating hand.

But before he could even say it was fine, and sitting at the counter would be a nice change of being able to actually see Maryanne’s face and lively expressions, a clatter that signalled the back room door being shoved open caught both their attentions.

Well, Sam said shoved, but in reality, an arm had punched right through the flimsy wood. Not one pair of eyes were on their homework or breakfasts anymore, and for a moment everyone just stared. Sam had shot up out of his seat, and his arms were spread to try and offer some feeble protection to the crowd. Before he even knew it, Sam was already calculating the possible scenarios and exits for each and every person.

The three tables at the back, including his usual booth, were most in danger of being in the way of the attack, and Sam’s eyes flickered wildly back and forth. Maybe if he kicked the door and the assailant back in, he could buy himself some time to grab the napkin dispensers off the counter and throw them hard enough through the windows to create a makeshift exit for the hostages.

Sam knew that was his best bet, and he took a step forward, ready to do just that while yelling for the rest of the diner to get the hell out, when the “assailant” pulled his arm back out through the hole while yelling, “I’M SORRY, I’M SO SORRY, I DIDN’T MEAN TO!”

Sam paused. That didn’t sound very much like an assailant ready to die with the hostages he was planning to take.

The door was pulled away from the room - which Sam was just noticing was the correct direction, instead of the earlier push towards the room - and a guy stepped through the frame, both hands held up in surrender.

He was dressed in layers, a shirt under a maroon Henley, and had a standard-issue light cream-and-red-striped Mandy’s apron wrapped around his waist. His hair was in a messy bun, and below that, two low-set thick eyebrows lay over an intense set of eyes that looked like they were twinkling even beneath the apology radiating out from them. Under the light scruff, Sam could see a well-defined jaw and cleft chin.

Sam thought he felt his heart skip a beat. In his haze, he didn’t know if it was from the threat of danger, or from the good-looking man himself.

As Roxy hurried forward towards the man, Maryanne came out from behind the counter to stand in front of Sam, this time the one with the placating hands up. “It’s fine, Sam, there’s no danger, James is one of us, he’s harmless.”

Over the years he’d been back from the army, Sam was doing better in civilian life. He wasn’t having as many flashbacks, and he had taken up things that made him happy, made him feel the bustle of normal, everyday, safe life for what it was. It didn’t, however, mean that he didn’t fall into a rut sometimes, which meant that sometimes he went days unreachable by his friends, just hiding in his room with all windows and doors closed and locked. It meant sometimes he’d be enjoying a milkshake at Mandy’s and would suddenly blank out, and a simple touch could send him into a combat formation and execution unseeingly.

That’s why Sam had taught his friends early on - when he realised that it was a dangerous problem that wasn’t going away overnight - how to snap him out of his episodes and calm him down.

Maryanne has, unfortunately, had to do it a few times over the course of their friendship, and was handling it right now as well as she did the first time - call it her nurturing instinct.

When he managed to calm down and come back to himself, Sam blinked and found everyone more or less back to doing their own stuff, the man repeatedly bowing to Roxy in apology, and Maryanne’s worried but patient eyes staring at him.

“You back with us, hun?”

Sam swallowed, nodding. Maryanne held out a tentative hand, and Sam took it in reassurance. For both his own and Maryanne’s. She led him to sit, making and then placing a lukewarm, but strong, cup of coffee in front of him, knowing he needed just that to wash down.

Sam huffed and finally focused back to where he physically was when Roxy stopped in front of him with an amused smile. “Sorry about that, love, James is new.”

James took that moment to sidle up next to Roxy, apology written all over his pouty face.

Sam’s heart skipped a beat again.

“I am so sorry, I didn’t mean to break the door and make such noise, I slipped! And,” here, James lifted his left hand, hesitated a moment, and took off the black glove that Sam was only just noticing, and wriggled his metal fingers. “I was a little hard on my landing.”

Sam could feel himself staring, told himself to stop, but knowing he couldn’t.

James stretched out the very same wriggling hand towards Sam. “I’m Bucky.”

Sam managed to close his mouth, and took the offered hand. “Sam. ‘James’...?”

James- no. Bucky shrugged. “Bucky’s a nickname. James Buchanan Barnes.”

Sam was a little warmed at how willing to share with a stranger Bucky was being, and smiled to match Bucky’s grin.

“What kinda name is Buchanan?”

For a moment, as Bucky’s eyes widened, Sam thought perhaps he’s crossed a line, that that wasn’t something a normal person would say to someone they’d just met. Sam was perhaps too used to introducing himself to men he was prepared to die with; that brought the relationship to a whole other level.

But then Bucky barked a laugh, shaking his head lightly. “It is quite an asshole name, isn’t it.”

A pause, then Sam’s grin came back full-force. “Samuel Thomas Wilson,” he said as repayment.

Bucky’s wide-toothed grin morphed into something smaller, something a little more... dare he say, intimate.

“So, Samuel Thomas Wilson,” Bucky started, his arm sliding across the table top to prop himself up as he leaned towards Sam, metal against vinyl making a soothing sound.

“Wanna learn more about my name - and arm - over dinner tonight?”

Sam was sure that time, that the beat his heart skipped was because of the teasing smirk playing on Bucky’s lips.

+

because i am so whipped for buckysam, that they managed to bring me out of a 4-year (perhaps longer, since that 1 drabble in 2012 shouldn’t count) writer’s block. day 2 of sbweek2016, here i come.

[robinhoodofourgeneration]

This was, of course, posted before the movie came out.

Any one wanna talk about it now??? XD