#Stark spangled

[what-is-your-plan-today]

35, 43 and 49 for Steve and Katie?

35: What did you think was cool when you were younger?

Steve: Cameras. They weren’t something everyone had, and the artist in me was fascinated with how they could capture a moment and reproduce an exact copy. Bucky’s dad got one when we were about ten, or eleven, maybe. And I used to bug him incessantly with questions about how it worked. I still love them, now I just…he snorts…have one in my pocket all the time, pretty much on my cell phone. Times have changed.

Katie: snorts: Speaking of Cell phones, my first one was wicked. I liked to call it from the landline, then answer it, and hide it in Tony’s room and then scream down it. He used to shit himself. Was great.

Steve arching a brow: why doesn’t that surprise me?

Katie grins: as for what I thought was cool, hmmm. Oooh my Gameboy. Like, it was amazing. I took it everywhere I could, had it confiscated so many times in school. I showed Jamie a retro one the other day, he looked at me like I’d handed him a brick…

43: What time of day feels the most magical to you?

Steve: whenever the kids are asleep.

Katie: Steve!

Steve: No, Doll, what I mean…those evenings, when they’re either asleep or they’re in bed pretending to be asleep when they’re actually reading or playing on their Ipads…we get that time alone. We can kick back, talk about our day, watch TV. I love that. I really do.

Katie: Yeah, actually…I’d go with that too. But there’s also something beautiful about dawn to me. You know? Like…no matter what happens in the world, the sun will always set, and always rise. And sunrise always signifies to me that there’s a fresh start there.

49: If you chose to get a tattoo, what would it be and where would you want it?

Katie: I have a lot of them already so…she shrugs…I like them all and where they are. I don’t want anymore though.

Steve: I can’t have them.

Katie: Serum…yeah…grumbles. Thank you doctor Erskine.

Steve snorts: Yeah we found that one out back in the forties. The Howlies, they all decided to get one from the cap tattoo artist…Bucky talked me into trying, but it just didn’t work. As fast as the needle was pricking, it was healing so…

Katie: what would you get if you could

Steve ponders: it’d be something for you and the kids. What, exactly, I don’t know. Something I designed myself. Maybe incorporating stars, you know?

Katie: I reckon you’d suit a huge Eagle. Like, one symbol of America on another.

Steve: No.

[vigilante-apologist]

Main character trios are meant to end up as a polycule and you can’t change my mind

[steveandnatlover76]

Natasha: Oh, come on, babe. Stop sulking, it wasn’t that bad.

Steve: Not bad? Tony getting hold of all my old wartime propaganda movies and showing them to the team? They all had tears in their eyes from laughing. It was humiliating!

Natasha: I didn’t laugh.

Steve: No, because you‘re my wife and you love me. But them?!

Natasha: Yes. But also because I thought you looked kind of cute … and sexy.

Steve: Really?!

Natascha: Yes. Come on Star-Spangled Man with a Plan. Why don’t we discuss this further in our bedroom?

Steve: Yes, ma‘am. I‘ll give it my all for the war effort.

[im-95-not-dead]

The Right Partner on ao3

Pairing: Bruce Banner & Steve Rogers

Word Count: 1.7k

Event: Bruce Week 2023 || Prompt: Dance

Tags: mutual pining, dancing, rarepair, canon universe, fluff

Summary:

Bruce hates public appearances but he’s run out of reasons to skip. He might just be glad he came to this one though.

[hawkeyenothawkguy]

Scrolling through old fanfic and really missing when ships had cool names

[iluvsumbucky]

Considering what today is, I had to reblog this. I loved it the first time & it gets even better each time I read it! I adore the Stark Spangled Universe & hope you check it out, it’s fantastic!!! My comments are under the break since they are a bit long & have spoilers in them!

Katie's comments about not meaning to 'steal' the turkey make me smile Uh-huh Sure Katie I believe you😉😁. Then Tony's reaction has me giggling, I mean Tony, I have no doubt that you have done a lot worse & let's be honest you're still doing most of your dumb & crazy shit. And Tony do you really want to complain about blue hair & emo clothes when she could be things that are a lot worse. The conversation between Katie, Tony & Rhodey has me smiling & laughing even more, especially as she tells him the turkey's name & why. I don't blame Rhodey for refusing to help Tony try to catch Marv & I'm laughing as Marv launches himself at Tony, especially when he growls & then they're rolling on the ground. And when Tony asks Katie how she got near it, I laugh even harder as she walks over to Marv & picks him up, saying, “He likes me” especially as Tony says, “I give in.” “I raised a stubborn, pig headed asshole” Alright you go Marv!!

The next few years with Marv has my smile growing & even though I can't stand Obediah, he has a point with his comment about Tony not letting Katie have a dog. I'm giggling at the noise Marv makes when he hears Tony's voice & I'm not surprised that Katie wants to take Marv with her to the UK the following year. I know Pepper's promise had to relieve her & the incident when Tony finds Marv in the bathroom shredding toilet paper has me cracking up. You can tell that Marv was meant to be with them, he's not only smart but also a troublemaker, classic Stark! And when Katie comes home & Marv tries to peck him, Tony's reaction has me smiling & giggling, especially when Katie makes the suggestion about getting Marv a girlfriend. Oh yeah I can see Tony being terrorized by two turkeys. He'd never get anything done because he would constantly being chased & pecked. And her comment about not being a veggie has me snickering.

I love how the next year Tony has Jarvis looking up blueprints of house for Marv & Jarvis’ comment,  “Stark Industries branching out into pet houses now Sir?” makes me giggle. Katie is right, Marv will love it. But what happens the following year as Katie carries Marv & says he’s sick makes my stomach drop especially as Tony has Jarvis look up the lifespan of a turkey & they find out that they've had Marv twice as long as the average. The fact that Marv still tries to peck Tony's hand shows that he still has his spunk, his attitude, but my eyes fill when he clucks for the last time. Even though Marv wasn't a conventional pet he was theirs & it still hurt when they lost him. I know they will miss him, Tony too, even if he won’t admit it. It's never easy to lose a pet, they're part of the family & will always have a piece of our hearts. Marv was a perfect fit for Katie & Tony, because he wasn’t the average or normal pet. As we all know the Starks are far from average & normal & that is why we love them. I loved this & adore the Stark Spangled Universe!!!! 

Stark Spangled Banner

One Shot: The Life Of Marv

Summary: Katie rescues a Turkey from slaughter, much to Tony’s annoyance.

Warnings: Language!

A/N- This was written as requested to accompany Ch 11: A Turkey Called Marv in Stark Spangled Banner, and fills us in on Marv the Turkey, and how he became a much loved (well, sorta!) Stark family Pet…

Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Keep reading

[fohatic]

I FINALLY WROTE A STRAIGHT-UP PWP!!!

couldn't get a certain image out of my mind (steve, as he first appears in this fic) and managed to turn it into something while keeping it short and sweet :) check it out!

Push It by fohatic — Steve/Tony, 3.6k, rated E

Steve's in a foul mood after a mission gone awry, and nothing gets Tony more hot and bothered than Steve in a snit.

fills the "rough sex" square for my @steverogersbingo card

[what-is-your-plan-today]

Rori be lookong at the picture as Steve is trying to get it taken down. "Dad what are you doing with your hands?"

"I dont know... Nothing."

"Thats your father trying not to be awkward Rori."

"Dad should have done jazz hands instead."

Steve groaning, “I did enough performing in the USO shows…”

Rori “STAR SPANGLED MAN WITH A PLAAANNNNN!”

[theysparked]

visage marvel tags

[venus-haze]

She's Out To Please, She Pouts Her Best (Soldier Boy x Reader)

Summary: Soldier Boy’s been pulled from the European Theater to sell war bonds to the American people, the goodwill tour dotted by big cities and small towns alike. In the meantime, he gets familiar with the variety of women in dazzling costumes that accompany his speeches with carefully choreographed dances. You’re, without a doubt, his favorite of them all.

Note: Female (blink and you’ll miss it implied plus size) reader, but no other descriptors are used. This fic is so short because it’s pretty much PWP. Do not interact if you’re under 18 or post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 2k

Warnings: Dressing room sex, mirrors, breeding kink, daddy kink, power imbalance, overstimulation, implied baby trapping. Do not interact if you’re under 18.

Chattering from the packed high school auditorium somehow seeped through the walls. The rural town that was the latest stop in Soldier Boy’s war bond drive had shown up en masse out of patriotism or sheer curiosity. Usually both. Electricity was always in the air before the show in small towns. Some of them didn’t even have movie theaters. 

You and the other dancers on the tour had set up camp in one of the bigger classrooms, using it to get ready in since it was near one of the bathrooms. Dresses, sequins, and makeup scattered about the room, making the place of learning look like a department store had exploded inside. You’d been helping another girl with the curlers in her hair until a masculine voice called out your name from the doorway.

“Soldier Boy wants to see you in his dressing room.”

You nodded, giving an apologetic look to your colleague, who waved you off. It wasn’t unusual for Soldier Boy to call on one of you to help him “warm up” before the shows. Lately, however, he’d almost exclusively been asking for you, to the detriment of your jaw. 

Grabbing a nearby tube of red lipstick, you hastily applied it in the illuminated mirror in front of you. The lipstick residue soon adorned a tissue that you discarded, and you used your fingertips to gently massage the muscles in your face in preparation for taking him again. You hoped you’d at least get to come this time.

A flyer had gotten you to this point, stark white with patriotic motifs, pinned to a board in the nightclub you had been working in prior to getting the gig. Uncle Sam declared, “Ladies, you can serve your country too!” You figured why not, there was a war on, and if you could do something to help, you might as well. 

Your qualifications led you to your local USO office, where you were handed a star-spangled outfit and joined a gaggle of other girls to be the supporting act on Soldier Boy’s war bonds tour across the country. At times, you felt silly, kicking and shimmying to audiences who were clearly only putting up with the opener just to catch a glimpse at the world’s first superhero. A man larger than life in every sense of the word, as you and your fellow dancers on the tour would learn.

Wandering the hallway, you checked each door for an indication of which commandeered classroom was his. Not one for subtlety, his dressing rooms always had ‘SOLDIER BOY’ printed in large letters, declaring his presence. You found the sign toward the end of the hall, giving a smile to the usual group of people who congregated around him, assistants and handlers to keep him on schedule.

You knocked on the door, announcing your arrival. 

“You wanted to see me, sir?” you asked when he opened the door. 

He smiled, putting his hand on your lower back as he ushered you inside. “Sure did, sweetheart.”

His dressing room always betrayed his vices—alcohol, drugs, porno mags. It didn’t faze you anymore, not like the first time he asked for you, a stuttering mess in his presence. Back then, you had to take a shot with him to settle your nerves enough to blow him without feeling too self-conscious. Now, it was routine. You moved to get on your knees, but he stopped you, to your confusion. 

Instead, he disarmed you with a passionate kiss that nearly knocked you over. You steadied yourself on his strong arms that had made their home near your hips. He squeezed them, pulling you closer so your body was flush against his as he slipped his tongue into your mouth. 

You let him take the lead, he always did—strong, masculine, hard-working. Wasn’t America lucky its hero was easy on the eyes too? Except he had a temper, a mean streak that could go for miles. Not that you’d ever been on the receiving end of it. No, for all his faults, you seemed to get the best of Soldier Boy.

“I’ve been thinking about you,” he whispered against your lips.

“You have?”

“Don’t sound so surprised. You’re—“ he paused, searching for the word he wanted to use, “special to me.”

You weren’t sure why he was laying it on so thick. It wasn’t your first rodeo with him. “Special?”

“‘Course you are. You wouldn't be here if you weren’t,” he said. “I wanna try something different today, alright, doll?”

“Alright,” you agreed softly.

He smiled. “That’s my girl.”

Your body came alive at his praise, and you pressed your lips to his for another kiss. He guided your body backward until you bumped into the vanity. Parting his lips from yours, he turned you around, bending you over it so you were face to face with yourself in the mirror. 

You looked at him from the reflection, brows furrowed as you wondered what he was doing. 

He leaned down, voice husky in your ear as he growled, “I want you to see how pretty you look when you come.”

Your eyes widened, and you grabbed either side of the vanity in preparation, to his amusement. He pressed a kiss to the back of your neck as he pushed up your shimmery skirt, exposing your red, satin panties, specially made to be on display. Soon, your panties were around your heeled feet, one of his hands reaching to play with your clit while the other squeezed one of your breasts through your top.

“We look good together, don’t you think, sweetheart?” he asked, intense gaze studying your reactions.

“Y-Yes,” you moaned, trying to keep your eyes open. 

He always wanted you to look at him. From your knees when you were sucking him off, when he’d be standing on the side of the stage during your act, in his hotel rooms when he couldn’t find local girls to fuck around with. This instance was different, though, able to really see him, and yourself. You didn’t find your glassy gaze or parted lips particularly flattering, but he couldn’t seem to get enough.

His fingers had already brought you close to climax, and you whined when he pulled them away from you for a moment to free his hard cock from his pants. You shuddered, feeling it on your skin before he guided it in your pussy. Your hands curled around the vanity you were bracing yourself on. You weren’t sure if you’d get used to how his cock seemed to split you apart every time.

One of his arms wrapped just below your chest to hold you up, as you struggled to support yourself when he started pounding into you. Your pussy was already wet and pliant for him, and you'd be embarrassed by the obscene squelching sounds if you weren't so focused on getting off when he had brought you so close to the edge already.

You were your own voyeur, your brain feeling like it was going to melt, watching yourself getting fucked by him. His superhuman strength always caught you off guard, from the first time he shocked you by lifting you above his head on stage for a roaring crowd to the way he could make your body feel—and look—like you were little more than a ragdoll. 

“Gonna put a baby in you,” he grunted as he thrust into you, items falling from the vanity and onto the floor at the force he used to fuck you. “Want you up on that stage with my cum leaking out every time you kick up those legs—fuck—you’re mine.”

Your pussy clenched around him at the vulgar image he conjured up. “Yours daddy.”

His voice was strained, words slurring together. He was close. “‘S right, baby. Keep fuckin’ you ‘till you make me one. You like takin’ daddy’s dick, don’t you?”

You had to force the short affirmation out of your mouth, pleasure’s chokehold creeping up on you. That wasn’t enough for him or his ego.

“I wanna hear you say it.”

“I love taking—oh fuck—taking your dick, daddy.”

He came, hard and sloppy as your pussy milked his cock. You cried out, feeling so full it almost started to hurt. Something in you finally snapped, releasing the pain and pressure as you rode out your orgasm on his softening cock. Your arms gave out from under you so that it was just his strength holding you up. You weren’t sure how you’d be able to go back to having sex with men who weren’t well-endowed superheroes. Go back to faking it, you supposed.

Your throat was sore. You hadn’t paid attention to how loud you were being. Everyone outside the room must’ve known what was happening if they didn’t have an idea when you first showed up looking for him. 

Soldier Boy pulled himself out of you, and you could hear fabric rustling and the sound of his zipper again. You didn’t bother trying to stand up, still needing time to catch your breath. 

He used his fingers to swipe up some of his cum that had begun dripping out of you, causing you to gasp at the slight sensation of them brushing against your pussy. You whimpered when he pushed his index and middle fingers inside you, already aching from the orgasm he’d just pulled from you. 

“I—I can’t—“

‘I can’t get pregnant and ruin my career,’ you wanted to say, but all that came from your lips was a desperate, animalistic moan.

“I got you, baby,” Soldier Boy whispered, voice low and husky in your ear. “Give me one more so it sticks.”

You choked on air as his thumb brushed your clit, rubbing circles in the sensitive bundle of nerves. His fingers pushed deeper, and your hips bucked at the overstimulation, your spent pussy reactively pulsing around his cum-slicked fingers that curled inside you.

The woman staring back at you in the mirror was a mess with her mascara stained cheeks and smeared lipstick. You were utterly unrecognizable as you came again, harder on his fingers this time, crying out as you gripped the edge of the vanity, threatening to break one of your manicured nails. 

“Good girl,” he praised, pressing kisses to your cheek, as you came down from your second orgasm, pulling his hand from between your legs. “You alright?”

“I think so,” you breathed. “Jesus Christ.”

Your legs felt like jelly beneath you, and you wondered how the hell you were going to be able to dance in less than half an hour. You’d have to reapply all of your makeup too.

He turned you around, looking at you with a brief fondness before kissing your lips, soft and quick. 

“I need to fix my face,” you breathed.

He smiled. “Why? You look great.” 

You laughed softly as he gave you space. You pulled up your panties from around your ankles, knowing his cum would stain them by the time you made it back to the dancers’ makeshift dressing room. Taking some of the tissues from the box on top of the vanity, you began wiping your ruined makeup from your face. He stared at you in silence from the spot he’d taken on the loveseat that’d been brought in for him.

“I think I’d be a good father. Better than my old man,” he said finally.

You paused, looking at him from the mirror, giving him a sardonic smile. “I don’t see you as the settling down type.”

“Maybe I just need a woman worth coming home to.”

“Maybe,” you echoed.

“C’mere.”

You obliged, joining him on the loveseat. He wrapped an arm around you, holding you close. You let yourself bask in the intimacy.

“Things aren’t always gonna be like this,” he said. “Once the war’s over, what’re you gonna do? Go back to dancing in nightclubs?”

“Why not?”

His jaw clenched, cheek twitching as he pulled his gaze from you. “I don’t want you doing this for anyone but me.”

This could have been any number of things, dancing, fucking, being at his beck and call. Knowing him, he meant all of it.

“Ben,” you said, grabbing his attention, “then you have to tell me what you do want.”

“I want you. I want the white picket fence, kids running around the yard with the dog,” he said, the intensity in his voice wrapping tendrils around your mind, pulling you into the world he was describing. “I want dinner to burn ‘cause I was busy putting another baby in you when I got home.”

“Oh,” you whispered.

A voice through the door startled you. “Soldier Boy, the mayor’s here to see you!” 

“Think about it,” Soldier Boy said, getting up from the loveseat to grab his helmet and shield. 

The door shut behind him, leaving you to agonize over the future he presented to you. Part of you wondered if you’d really have a choice.

[stxar-pvnk]

Tony arguing with Peter

Tony: I told you to stay put! What did you do? Not stay put!

Peter: I had to save those lives Mr stark! They were in danger! A building was falling on them!

Tony: that doesn't mean you fling yourself under said building nearly crushing your body! You could've died!

Steve: son, if I may just add-

Peter and tony: STAY OUT OF THIS STAR SPANGLED MAN!

Steve: woah.

[bookboyfriendsficrecs]

Steve Rogers Fic Recs

Bolded = fic located on Ao3

SERIES:

Nice to Be Kneaded by @rogersideup

Nothing But the Truth by @anika-ann

Don't You Love Me by @dreamwritesimagines

Steve Rogers' NSFW Alphabet by @universitypenguin

A Blind Path Home by @imamotherfuckingstar-lord

Love on the Brain by @anika-ann

The Year of Starting Over by @justanothersong

His New Partner by @star-spangled-steve

Fools Rush In by @ronearoundblindly

When You Come Back to Me Again by @sunriserose1023

Non-Sequential by @invisibleanonymousmonsters

Out of Time by @after-avenging-hours

The Demigod From Asgard by @secretswiftymarvelfan

Stark Spangled Universe by @wiypt-writes

Tomorrow by @just-dreaming-marvel

Hacker's Heart by @bakugousaysdie (note: this series' masterlist is currently unaccesible due to a username change by the author, I have linked the tag "hacker's heart au" on their blog as that's the only way the find the corresponding stories, hopefully this works fine)

MINISERIES:

Bug and Bear and Burritos and Bandages by @real-jane

Seven Minutes Part 1 and Part 2 by @anika-ann

Start Again Part 1 and Part 2 by @wkemeup

SR Version Desperate Times and Desperate Measures by @lancsnerd

Pace is the Trick by @syntheticavenger (part 4 linked, other parts available at beginning of post)

ONE-SHOTS:

No Questions Asked by @pellucid-constellations

No Strings Attached by @viperbarnes

Nature's Beauty by @biteofcherry

How to Dismantle Steve Rogers by @jtargaryen18

Passing the Baton by @touchstarvedirl

Writer's Block by @navybrat817

Taken by @time-for-a-lullaby

Hold Onto Me by @anika-ann

[zmyaro]

New ship dynamic just dropped.

not your typical lockup. 

[holylulusworld]

Star-spangled man with a plan

Title: Star-spangled man with a plan

Written for @fluffystevefest – Day 4

Summary: It’s Steve’s birthday.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings: lots of teasing, Steve feels old, pining, fluff

He watches the years pass by. Another season. Another year. Another year older.

More birthday candles on the cake than he’d like to count. Steve never thought he’d turn one hundred and six years old. And if he imagined growing old, he saw himself sitting on the veranda of his house, in an old rocking chair, wrinkles in his face, and his legs weak.

When he looks in the mirror, he can see the years in his eyes, but not his face. He’s still a young man in the eyes of the people. But he feels his age every year more.

Or is it the longing for a change?

“Come on Capsicle, why the long face?” Tony pats Steve’s back. “You know that this is a party, and you are expected to enjoy it. Go and get a nice girl. Ask her for a dance before you turn one hundred and seven years old.” Tony cackles before walking off.

“I hate to admit it, but Stark knows how to throw a party,” Bucky steps next to his best friend, offering a drink to Steve. “Here, down it in one go to feel the burn. We can’t get drunk but the taste ain’t bad. Stark has a great taste too when it comes to booze.”

“Did you ever wish for something more?” Steve dips his head to look at Bucky. “I mean, we are fighting the good fight, but something is missing.”

“Steve, be honest with me,” Bucky knits his brows together while looking at his friend, “are you in a midlife crisis, buddy? Do you want to buy a fast car and sleep with women half your age?”

Bucky grins. Steve makes a face.

“I think you are confusing me with a younger Tony Stark,” Steve scoffs and finally takes the drink out of Bucky’s hand.

“Well, Capsicle, in your case a woman half your age would be fifty-three, not exactly my type,” Tony cackles from the other side of the bar. He grins before walking off.

“Yeah, because your wrinkly ass prefers a twenty-something bimbo,” you snicker and raise your glass on Steve. “Leave the captain alone. It’s his birthday.”

Tony sticks his tongue out. “If I remember right, I’m throwing him a party. It’s my right as the host to roast the birthday boy. Cheers, Capsicle. I hope your ass stays wrinkle-free for another year.”

“It’s America’s ass after all,” you grin at Tony. “A nice ass too. Cheers on Captain America’s ass and the man himself.”

“Uh-oh, I think Y/N is a little tipsy,” Bucky nudges Steve. “Come on. It’s your chance. If you stammer this time, she won’t remember and just laugh it off.”

“What do you mean?” Steve grunts.

“You have been pining over her for years,” Bucky rolls his eyes. He can’t believe his friend sometimes. “How much older do you want to grow to ask her out?”

Steve glances at you in your dress. You’re wearing a navy blue sleeveless retro vintage 1950s swing dress with white stars on it. It’s a beautiful flare dress with a dress halter pushing your cleavage up. You’re wearing a red neckerchief to complete the look.

His heart beats a little faster than usual when you grab two glasses of champagne and walk toward him. Bucky immediately leaves Steve’s side, giving his friend a thumbs up before disappearing into the crowd.

“Happy Birthday, Captain,” you smile at Steve, putting on your sweetest pout. “I hope it’s a good one, and that we can spend more birthdays together. I hope all of your wishes come true, Steve.” You hand him a glass of champagne. “I know you can’t get drunk but we should raise our glasses to your birthday.”

Steve’s eyes are glued to your crimson lips. You’re wearing a little more make-up than usual. Of course, it’s all fifties style.

“You look beautiful today,” he manages to get out and curses himself. “You always look good, but I like that dress.” His cheeks dimple when you put your hand on his chest. Steve prays you cannot feel his heart beat so fast it might jump out of his chest.

“Thank you, Steve,” you smile while saying his name. “Do you like your party?”

“Now that you’re here with me, I like it better,” Steve flashes you a sweet smile. He’s nervous, you can see his hand tremble, but you don’t mind. It’s kind of cute that this strong and handsome man is nervous around you.

“If that’s so,” you move a little closer to look up at Steve. Batting your eyelashes you purr his name. “Why don’t you dance with me? I have waited all night for you to dance with me.”

Steve clears his throat and straightens his back. “Y/N, would you give me the honor and dance with me.”

You giggle when he puts the glass of champagne away and takes yours out of your hand.

“Yes, Captain,” you take his offered hand. “I feared you’d never ask. What can a girl do but wait for a gentleman to ask her for a dance.”

Steve leads you toward the dancefloor, catching everyone’s attention as he finally makes a move. They don’t know you asked him for the dance, but it doesn’t matter the moment you place your arms on Steve’s shoulders. He smiles and puts his hands on your hips.

You start to sway, to the soft music they play. Getting lost in the song you rest your head on Steve’s chest and wrap your arms around him. He embraces you and welcomes your warmth while murmuring your name.

Steve closes his eyes. Having you in his arms is the fulfillment of his dreams. Everything falls into pieces for Steve. He’s the spar-spangled man with a plan after all. Even though, he needs years to finally have a dance with you…

Tags in reblog.

[scoonsalicious]

Unwanted: Chapter 3, Unbidden - Pt. 1

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Summary: When your FWB relationship with your best friend Bucky Barnes turns into something more, you couldn’t be happier. That is, however, until a new Avenger sets her sights on your super soldier and he inadvertently breaks your heart. You take on a mission you might not be prepared for to put some distance between the two of you and open yourself up to past traumas. Too bad the only one who can help you heal is the one person you can no longer trust.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, alcohol consumption, minor discussions of sex, drunk!Bucky, minor violence, FloRida's Low (that song slaps, okay?), minor anti-Winter Soldier sentiment, an unnecessary Ted Bundy reference just because. As always, let me know if I missed anything!

Word Count: 4.1k

Previously On...: You and Bucky had a heart-to-heart after you came back from your mission with Steve, and Bucky asked a very interesting question about the nature of your relationship with the Star Spangled Man.

A/N: I just finished writing Chapter 9 ahead of schedule, so here is Chapter 3 a little bit earlier than I planned on posting it! Consider it in honor of Sergeant Barnes' 107th Birthday! This is my favorite chapter; I had so much fun writing it, this part in particular (even though it took me a million tries before I got it to where I wanted it). Sam is finally given some page time, and I adore him, so I hope I've captured his essence sufficiently. I sort of love writing drunk!Bucky. Part three is where things are going to take an interesting turn for Bucky and Pocket so I'm looking forward to posting that soon!

Banner By: The absolutely amazing @mrsbuckybarnes1917

Taglist: (Please let me know if you’d like to be added!)  @blackhawkfanatic @les-sel @marcswife21 @buckybarnessimpp @jmeelee @cazellen

Slapping your American Express Black Card onto the polished mahogany bar, you made sure the bartender was giving you his full attention. "Everything my group orders tonight goes on my tab, got it?" you told him. "If Tony Stark tries to pay for a single thing, tell him it's already covered and if he has a problem with it, he can take it up with me." The bartender nodded, taking your card and depositing it with the other open tabs behind the bar. It was going to be a very lucrative night for the bar.

You'd all come to Gino's, a downtown dive of place you all loved, to celebrate Bucky's clearance for missions. As a part of his presidential pardon for the Winter Soldier's crimes (completely unnecessary, in your opinion, because Bucky hadn’t been the one to commit them), he had been required to undertake 12 months of court-mandated therapy, and now that he had ten months under his belt, his therapist had signed her approval for Bucky to engage in real Avenger work, provided he was accompanied by another member of the team at all times for supervision. He'd be leaving tomorrow for a classified location with Steve and Sam; they'd be gone for about a week, so you'd wanted to commemorate the event and leave him with some positive memories before he left.

You rejoined your group in the far back, where you'd commandeered the largest corner booth and the surrounding tables. "Tonight's on me," you declared as you approached, "so drink up and eat well." Your friends cheered their thanks; Thor even banged his giant fist against the table in appreciation. You did a mock curtsey before coming to stand behind Bucky where he sat, draping your arms around his neck and shoulders and bringing your head down alongside his.

"Having a good time?" you asked him.

Bucky let out a soft chuckle, leaning back into your touch. "With you by my side? Always," he replied, his voice laced with affection. "But you didn't have to do this, doll. Pay for everything, I mean. We could have all gotten our own."

Letting go of his shoulders, you moved around to sit next to him. "Bullshit. My best friend is going on his first Avengers mission, this is the least I can do."

"Listen, man," said Sam Wilson, also known as The Falcon and, if you were being completely honest, one of your favorite teammates after Bucky, "I know things might have been different when you were younger, but in the 21st Century, when a lady offers to buy you drinks, the polite thing to do is just say 'thank you' and get hammered."

Bucky laughed and chugged down the beer he'd been previously nursing and took the bourbon you'd brought over for him from the bar. "Thank you, Pocket. Though, I don't think I'll be getting... hammered on anything here."

"You're most welcome, Buck," you said, patting his cheek, the stubble tickling at your palm. "But if you are looking to get hammered, I believe our resident God of Thunder has brought a little something extra you could sip on in between beers." You nodded your head toward Thor, who sat a few seats down, pouring a splash of Asgardian something from a flask into Steve's tumbler.

Bucky quirked an eyebrow. "Is that so? Maybe I'll take him up on that." The super soldier got up and, squeezing your hand, made his way over to Thor, who gladly poured a generous splash of spirits into Bucky's glass of bourbon.

You watched him for a moment as he sat and drank with Steve and Thor, a warm feeling building in your chest at the sight of him looking and doing so well. He'd made so much progress since he first arrived at the Tower and you were unbelievably proud of him.

"You've been good for him, Pocket," Sam offered with a raise of his glass. "But I gotta know, when are you two gonna stop tip-toeing around each other and make things official?"

You let out an agonized groan. "Not you, too, Sam. Why don't you and Natty get together and write some fanfic about it? That's about as close to reality as it'll get."

"What are Wilson and I collaborating to write smutty fanfiction about?" Natasha asked as she sat down in Bucky's vacated seat, passing you a shot glass.

"Za nashu druzhbu!" You toasted in unison before downing the sweet liquid. To our friendship!

"A Redheaded Slut shot? How very Natasha," you teased.

"Don't try to change the subject," Sam interjected. "Romanoff: (Y/L/N) and Barnes. They go together like Netflix and chill or what?"

Natasha's eyes lit up. "Absolutely! Oh my God; I'm so glad you see it, too. They're just screaming 'Let's fuck already,' right?!"

"I don't know that they haven't started already," Sam said, obviously pleased to finally have someone to talk about this with. "I've never seen Metalhead as content as when he's with Pocket. Figure she's gotta be doing something to keep a smile on his face, if you know what I mean." He waggled his eyebrows, setting Natasha off into a barking laugh.

"Jesus Christ, Sam!" you sputtered. "I'm sitting right fucking here!"

Sam gave you a sheepish smile. "Sorry, Baby Girl. 'M just calling it like I see it. And with you and Barnes, I see it."

"She's going to stick to the story that nothing's going on between them," Nat began.

"Because there is nothing going on between us," you interrupted.

"But I think we all know something is brewing between those two," she continued, as if you hadn't said a thing. "I mean, do you really think they're just sleeping in the same bed every night?"

"Hold up, hold up." Sam raised his hand to stop Nat. "You're telling me those two share a bed? How long has this been going on and why am I just hearing about it now?"

"Oh my god," you said, putting your head in your hands and wishing the floor would open up and suck you into a hell dimension. It had to be better than sitting here listening to the two of them talk as if weren't in the room.

"You didn't know?!" Nat's expression was incredulous. "Essentially since the moment Barnes moved into the Tower. They alternate whose bed they sleep in, but it's literally every. single. night."

"That's it," you murmured, though you were sure they weren't paying you any attention, "I am never telling you another thing, ever, Natalia." They weren't embarrassing you, per se. You felt no shame about your closeness with Bucky. It was more that you hated that they were making assumptions about him. You could take ones made about you; you'd been doing that your entire life, but Bucky was different. He was... fragile wasn't the right word, but it came close. You wanted to protect him from everything negative, including your friends gossiping about his alleged sex life.

"Guys, please," you said, loud enough to catch their attention. "I know that, whatever I say, it's not going to convince you that I'm telling you the truth, but I don't want Bucky to hear it, okay? You're just going to make him uncomfortable and he'll retreat into himself, close up. So, save it for when you're by yourselves, alright?"

The sincerity in your words caused Sam and Nat's gazes to soften as they looked at you. You hoped that, despite their ribbing, they understood that your concern for your shared friend was genuine, and that, of the three of you sitting at the table, you knew Bucky best.

"Alright," said Sam, "I'll drop it. For now. But know I've got my eye on you, Pocket." He gave you a shrewd look. "Don't think you can keep your secret from Ole Sammy forever."

You shook your head, annoyingly amused.

The evening moved on pleasantly: conversation and alcohol flowed, and you felt yourself loosening up as the shots you'd drank with Natasha worked their way through your system until you were sporting a pleasant buzz. Bucky eventually came back to join you at your table, eyes glassy and with a giant, dopey grin plastered across his face.

"How's that Asgardian liquor treating you, Buckaroo?" you asked him with a grin of your own, knowing full well he was sauced.

"'s real good, Pocket," he slurred, propping his head on his fist and gazing at you with a dreamy expression. "'s nice and tingly, like the sun is shining on my insides."

"I'm happy for you, Buck," you said with a laugh, shooting an amused glance over Bucky's head to Nat, who responded with a smirk of her own. "That's real good."

He put his arms around you and pulled you into him, almost tugging you off of your chair in the process. "No! You're real good. Sho good to me, all warm and fuzzy and pretty. Just wanna keep touchin' you, you know? 'Cause you make me think of happy things." He paused to nuzzle his face into your hair. "You're m'favorite person."

"You're my favorite person, too, Buck," you said, stifling a giggle, amused by this new soft, silly side of him.

"Me?" he squeaked--actually squeaked. You nodded and then let out a surprised squeal as he pulled you into his lap, holding you almost tight enough to be uncomfortable, his metal arm clinging you to his chest. But then he pulled his head back to look you in the eye, his face suddenly serious.

He slurred, leaning in closer. You could smell the sweet scent of the Asgardian liquor on his breath. "Don'tcha dare tell Stevie, though, doll" he hiccupped, "'cause he'd be real put out if he found out I was your fav'rite."

"Well, then we won't tell him," you assured him, casting a bewildered glance to Nat. She subtly shook her head, as if to say she was just as confused as you as to why Steve would care if Bucky was your favorite person.

Bucky nodded solemnly. "Good. Don't want 'im feelin' bad, but 'm not sorry. 'S not my fault, either. He had ages and he didn't do nuthin'. That's on 'im. Not on me, not on you. On 'im." He began petting your hair in long strokes, seemingly distracted by the feel of it and losing his original train of thought. "Mmmm, you're so pretty. M'pretty little Pocket."

"Why, thank you, my handsome soldier," you replied, tapping him playfully on the nose while wondering what the hell he had been going on about concerning Steve. You hoped he wasn't so drunk that he didn't remember this conversation in the morning, because you were going to press the shit out of him for details.

Oh, but then... the next song from the jukebox caught your attention, and you looked up as the opening bars of Flo Rida's Low filled the air.

"Oh no," moaned Nat with a trace of laughter. "You're gonna dance, aren't you?"

A broad grin broke across your face. You loved dancing to anything, but this song was your kryptonite. "I can't help it," you told her, "it calls me, I come. Let's go!" You stood up, taking Bucky's hand and trying to pull him along with you, but the super soldier just shook his head and refused to move. Apparently he wasn't that drunk. "Fine. Sam, Nat, dance with me."

"I'm coming, Baby Girl," Sam said, taking Nat's hand and dragging her to meet you.

As soon as you had the space, you began to move, the music pulsing through your veins, syncing perfectly with your heartbeat. You swayed your hips in time with the infectious rhythm, your body moving effortlessly to the beat.

You felt Sam come up behind you, placing his hands on your hips as he began to dance with you, bass thumping in your chests. You and Sam had danced together countless times before; he was one of the only ones in the Tower who enjoyed dancing as much as you did, so the two of you had had plenty of practice moving together. Your movements may have been completely innocent, but they gave the appearance of something much more intimate-- it was just the nature of the dance. You could feel the heat of Sam's body pressed against your back, the way his hands gripped your hips protectively. It was all in good fun, a playful dance between friends, until you felt Sam's hands fly from your waist as you were about to get low.

You spun around, finding Bucky standing where Sam had been just a few seconds before, Sam now several feet away, anger wearing heavy on his face.

"What the hell, man?" Sam barked at Bucky. "What'd you shove me for?"

Bucky, his face flushed and eyes narrowed with a combination of intoxication and something dark, took a step towards Sam. "Didn't shove ya, Wilson," he slurred, his words blending together. "Ya just...got in the way."

"Got in the way? Man, we were just dancing. How was I in your way?"

Bucky's jaw clenched, his metal arm flexing by his side. The atmosphere shifted, thick with tension, as if the air in the room had suddenly turned molasses-slow.

"Okay, boys." You stepped between them, hands down and palms open, trying to create as much distance between the two as possible. The last thing you wanted was a drunken argument devolving into some kind of brawl. "It's getting late, and we've all had a good amount to drink." You gave Sam a pointed glance. "Bucky, will you take me home to the Tower? I'm pretty tired and I think I'm ready to call it a night."

Sam nodded in understanding-- it would be a hell of a lot easier to get Bucky home in his current state if he thought he was escorting you, instead of the other way around.

"Yeah, 'course, Pocket," Bucky said, his eyes softening as he looked at you. You were able to call out your goodnights to the rest of the team and, leaving instructions with Nat to close out your tab at the end of the night, began making your way to the door. Bucky stumbled a bit, his balance compromised by the alcohol in his system. You wrapped an arm around him, steadying him as you both made your way outside.

Outside the bar, the cool night air was a welcome relief from the noisy atmosphere inside. Bucky leaned heavily against you, his arm draped around your shoulders for support.

"Fuck, Barnes. You're heavy," you groaned under his weight.

"Fuck me, Pocket," he slurred, head tilting to the side. There was that look in his eyes again. The same one you'd seen the day he'd gotten his new arm. You couldn't identify it, but it made the hair on your arms stand up straight.

"Yeah, that's exactly what I said." You could feel his warmth seeping through your clothes, his presence comforting even in his intoxicated state.

"You good to stand on your own for a second, soldier?" you asked him. "I need to hail us a cab."

Bucky nodded and you carefully eased yourself out from under his arm, scanning the street for a taxi. The bustling city night was alive with lights and sounds, creating a tapestry of urban energy that seemed to match the frequency of the electricity that ran through your brain.

God, did you love this city.

As you raised your hand to flag down a cab, you couldn't help but steal glances at Bucky, his hair in disarray, falling into his eyes and his lips slightly parted as he breathed in the cool night air. Even drunk and disheveled, he still looked so handsome. There was a softness to him in the moment that made him look younger, and for a second, you could imagine that beautiful, carefree young man who had been drafted to cross the sea to fight someone else's war, and had paid for it with even more than his life.

A taxi screeched to a stop in front of you, interrupting your reverie. You hurriedly opened the door and helped Bucky inside, sliding in beside him. The cab driver gave you both a curious glance before pulling away from the curb. Once you gave him the address to Avengers Tower, that look got more and more frequent as he kept checking his rear view mirror.

"Hey, eyes on the road, buddy," you snapped at him, probably putting more aggression into your voice than you had intended, but the way the cab driver was looking at the two of you made you uneasy.

The ride back to the Tower was quiet, the low hum of the taxi's engine serving as a backdrop to the thoughts swirling in your mind. Bucky slumped against you, his head resting on your shoulder as he dozed off. You gently ran your fingers through his hair, feeling the softness of it against your skin. The city lights blurred past outside the window, casting a hazy glow over both of you.

"Listen," the cabbie eventually began in his thick New Jersey accent, "sweetheart, ya seem like a nice girl, but I don't think ya know what you're dealin' with, here. That man right there's the Winter Soldier. He's a murderer, a nasty one. The kind that likes to take a sweet thing like you and do horrible things."

You rolled your eyes. If they were going to keep telling stories about the Winter Soldier, the least they could do was get the details right instead of making him sound like Ted Fucking Bundy.

"This nasty murderer is my best friend," you said, each word clipped and infused with the anger you felt on Bucky's behalf. "So, maybe you should stick with getting us to our destination instead of trying to lecture me on something you know absolutely nothing about."

The cabbie fell silent, his eyes darting nervously between the road ahead and the rearview mirror. You could tell that he was regretting his decision to say anything, realizing that he had struck a nerve. Or, you thought with an amused chuckle, afraid that you were just as nasty as the Winter Soldier. But you couldn't blame him entirely. The reputation of the Winter Soldier was notorious, and it was only natural for people to be cautious. You just wished they knew the name Bucky Barnes, and the actual man, himself, just as well.

You sighed and shifted your gaze to Bucky, still unconscious against your shoulder. It wasn't fair, you thought, how people judged him solely based on his past. Yes, there were dark chapters in his history, but he had fought tooth and nail to regain control over his life. He had redeemed himself in countless ways even before he had officially joined the Avengers.

As the taxi approached Avengers Tower, you leaned over and gently shook Bucky awake. His eyes fluttered open, confusion etched in his features for a brief moment before recognition set in.

"We're home, Buck," you whispered softly, trying to soothe away any lingering unease from your brief conversation with the cab driver. "Let's get you upstairs." You threw a handful of bills in the cabbie's direction, not even bothering to wait for him to give you your change; you just wanted out of his cab and away from his prejudice.

Bucky nodded, rubbing sleep from his eyes. With your help, he stumbled out of the taxi and leaned on you for support as you made your way into the building.

"'m sorry 'bout that, doll," he drawled as you passed the security desk, sending a quick wave to the night guard.

"Sorry for what, Buck?" you asked him. He was silent as you made your way to the elevator bay, waiting until you had pressed the button to summon the elevator car.

"'bout the cabbie." He avoided looking at you while you waited, and it was like a punch to your gut-- he'd heard everything that ignorant man had said. The elevator doors dinged open and you helped usher him inside.

You took a deep breath as you pressed the button for your floor, the retinal scanner making quick work to prove your identity and verify your security clearance. "Buck," you exhaled, "you have nothing to apologize for. That man was an asshole and an idiot."

Bucky leaned back against the elevator wall, his head thumping against the cool metal. "But he was right. I am a nasty murderer."

You could scream. You could strangle that cabbie with your bare hands. Bucky had been doing so well, had been having such a good night, and one person's careless remark had ruined all of it.

"Barnes," you said, turning to face him. "Look at me. Do you think I'm stupid?"

His eyes grew wide at the insinuation, even in his drunk state, he was with it enough to be taken aback by your question. "'bsolutely not, doll. You're the smartest person I know. Smarter than Stark, even, 'cause you can admit when your wrong." The compliment left you trying to hide a smile.

"Okay. Do you trust my judgment?"

"With my life," he breathed. The elevator opened to your floor, and you helped Bucky out into the hall and down the corridor toward his room. The soft glow of the hallway lights illuminated his features, casting a warm, intimate aura around the two of you.

"So, if I'm not stupid and you trust my judgment, trust me when I tell you are not what that man says you are. You are a good man who had too many horrible things happen to him. And despite all those horrible things, you are still the kindest, funniest, most gentle man that I know."

As you reached his door, Bucky turned to face you, his eyes filled with a mixture of gratitude and vulnerability. "Thank you, Pocket. Thank you for taking care of me, and for being my friend," he murmured, his voice hoarse with exhaustion and emotion.

A small smile played on your lips. "Always, Buck," you replied softly. "Now let's get you inside."

With a gentle push, you opened the door to his room and guided him over to his bed. Bucky collapsed onto the mattress with a heavy sigh, his body sinking into the softness beneath him. Once you'd pulled off his boots, you knelt down beside him, tucking the blanket around his shoulders.

As you straightened up, Bucky reached out and grabbed your hand, his grip surprisingly strong despite his intoxicated state. His gaze locked with yours, a mix of vulnerability and longing flickering in his eyes.

"I don't want you to leave," he whispered, his voice laced with a hint of desperation.

"I'm just going to hop over to my room to change into pajamas," you assured him. "I'll be right back. Promise." You smoothed his hair, trying to tame it from where it stood up in all directions.

"'kay," he said through a yawn, "but don't take too long. I got somethin' I need to tell ya. 's important."

"Okay," you told him, planting a kiss on his head. "I'll be just a minute." You hurried across the hall to your own room, changing into your pajamas and brushing your teeth in record time.

Re-entering Bucky's room, you were extremely curious as to what he'd wanted to say to you. "Alright, Buckaroo, I'm back. What did you--"

You smiled to yourself. Bucky was fast asleep, light snores emanating from him as he lay sprawled across the bed. You couldn't help but find him adorable in his slumber, especially with his hair sticking up in all directions.

With a soft sigh, you walked over to the side of the bed and gently sat down, watching Bucky's peaceful face. It was moments like these that reminded you of how much he had been through, how much pain and loss he had experienced. Despite his tough exterior, there was a vulnerability about him that tugged at your heartstrings.

You leaned in closer, unable to resist the urge to brush a stray lock of hair away from his forehead. Your fingers lingered on his skin for a moment longer than necessary, feeling the warmth radiating from him. The desire to protect and comfort him overwhelmed you, making your heart ache with affection, and something else that you couldn't quite identify.

Pulling down the covers, you climbed into bed next to him, snuggling up to his body for warmth. He grunted and wrapped an arm around you, pulling you closer to him. It wasn't long before you drifted off into a slumber of your own.

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