Marvel Poc Reader Insert Fanfiction

Sam Wilson- Easy

(Word Count: 792)

Your fingers brushed the edge of the book's spine, grasping at it in an attempt to pull it off the shelf.

"We know we have ebooks, tree killer."

You yelped and fell flat on your ass with a thud. Tony's amused grin stared down at you from across the room.

"Go to hell, Tony." You jabbed, slowly standing back up again.

You winced, more from the embarrassment than any pain. Clicking your tongue, you stared pointedly at the stubborn book, still on the shelf.

Tony followed your gazed and whistled.

"Wilson, our teacher here needs some help." At his words, you felt your face heat up.

As soon as Sam entered the library, you tried to keep on task. You failed, spectacularly.

You toyed with a loose curl, stretching it farther out then the mass of them on your head. It was your attempt to keep busy but you watched Tony's eyes cut from you to Sam instead. The realization dawned on him with an alarming quickness. He crossed his arms and huffed in annoyance.

"JARVIS, tell Spangles and his pet project to get down here in twenty." Tony ordered. He gestured at you at you with some level of confusion, then acceptance.

"You have a PhD, Y/N. Do what floats your boat.Even if it has wings." You snorted at him, and smiled.

Tony had gotten you this job, because you were one of a few people whose first instinct wasn't to kiss his ass or strangle him. And thus, you were teaching two super soldiers who grew up in segregation about everything they missed. You were there for Steve and Bucky in between meetings and missions, Sam was just an added bonus.

His wide toothed grin was infectious and fun. Sam's warm presence helped ease your nerves, it wasn't imposing. He reminded you of the goofy neighborhood kid that grew up to be too fine.

"What you got them learning today, teach?" He asked as you gathered your stuff. He picked up a copy of the book, a solemn James Baldwin on the cover.

"Baldwin. And paper books make Steve and Bucky feel more comfortable." You replied, trying to pay attention to your lesson plan one last time before you started teaching.

"They still getting used to us having rights, huh?"

The two of you burst out laughing, getting louder and louder when you locked eyes.

Sam offered to walk you over to the conference room turned classroom, where Steve and Bucky would be soon. You smiled sheepishly at him, trying not to make it a bigger deal than it was.

He took the books and laptop in one hand and lent you his other arm. You looped your hand through it, and you were surprised how well Sam fit beside you.

You walked as a pair through the halls, and he was confident—you on the other hand were very aware of the stares. When you two reached the elevator, Sam leaned down with a sly look on his face.

"They probably think all of us in the office should get together anyway. I gotta be careful, you know, I don't wanna be stereotypical, but you fine as hell!" Sam hollered out. His loud voice attracted even more attention, with quite a few guilt white agents looking like deer caught in the headlights.

Your eyes bugged out your head, and your jaw dropped open.

"Sam! You are too much!" You cried. His deep laugh echoed throughout the elevator just before it opened.

That man had you laughing from there to your classroom. It was still early, so Steve and Bucky weren't there yet. Sam set down your stuff and cleared his throat.

"I should, um, get ready for class. Thanks for walking with me." You said, struggling to get the words out.

His eyes met yours, and his mouth was slightly ajar.

"We could do it again when you're free. Here, or this nice little place in midtown. It's black owned."

In the midst of your awkwardness, Sam was understanding of it, soothing your neuroticism. You squeezed his hand and nodded. He was standing just outside the doorway, and before you could talk yourself out of it, you pecked his lips.

Before he could say anything you pulled back and closed the door, not wanting to face him. It slammed behind you, as you sunk to the floor against the other side. You had done that thing you sometimes did––the one that sent any and all prospects by the wayside. You pulled your knees up to your chin.

"So I'm thinking like eight o'clock, you good with that? I don't want you to have to call off tomorrow cause I kept you out late." Sam called out.

Taking a deep breath, you slowly peaked out from the door. Sam was waiting patiently for you, a kind smile on his face.

"Eight works." You said, softly. Sam lit up as he walked away, passing a confused Steve and slightly suspicious Bucky.

You took the opportunity to turn and let out a small squeal.

You had a date, his name was Sam, and he was like no one you had ever met.