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Luther really did know his every move before he did it. Moving the cup knowing he was going to flip his desk.

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Just got back from watching Superman for the third time🥰🥰🥰🥰 talented, brilliant, incredible, amazing, show stopping, spectacular, never the same, totally unique, completely not ever been done before, unafraid to reference or not reference,

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I love whatever’s wrong with him

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“But the glasses”

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Superman (2025) | Dir. James Gunn

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Pairing: Clark Kent x reader Word count: 3557

Summary: traveling for work turns interesting when you and Clark realize your cheap editor fucked up the hotel booking. But you find a way to make it work :)

Tags/warnings: smut, p in v, breeding kink (?), dom!clark, he's sweet and dorky.

A/N: Something a little different I saw the pics and my mind just kinda….went there. Also if anyone has a request for specific scenarios or prompts feel free to message me! I’m always down to write. It can be anything fluff or not ;)

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“Perry I don’t want to go by myself,” I argue with the already crabby editor in chief.

“It’s a couple drinks, get them chatting, find the senator's advisor and get me my quote.” He argues looking at the layout pages.

“You’re ignoring the rest of the work that’ll follow.” I remind him.

“I’m sorry, are you a mediocre reporter or the one I hired?” He shoots, finally looking up at me. I take a deep breath and let it out as a deep sigh throwing my head back.

“You want this done tomorrow night to print for the Sunday paper. Get me someone, literally anyone.” I say not backing down from this. He stares at me with eyes that could kill and I shoot him the same look. I’m not backing down from this.

“Clark!” He shouts. A couple seconds later Clark’s tall frame is tripping into the room.

“Yea?” He asks nervously.

“Pack a bag you’re going to DC for the weekend.”

“For……?” He drags. His eyes look around the room until he meets mine.

“Back up for a quote we need. Help with writing and editing for our front page story.” He explains.

“When are we leaving?”

“3 hours I’ll see you at the airport,” I say, patting his shoulder as I leave Perry’s office. If it had to be anyone I’m glad it was Clark he’s always willing to help.

I arrive at the airport with my carry-on slung around my shoulder and make my way to the gate when I see him waiting for coffee. His face lights up when our eyes meet and he gives me a dimpled smile.

“Hey,” I smile, walking over to him. “You had the right idea getting here early.” I laugh looking at the long line of people waiting to place their order.

“Yeah, I had a feeling,” he says, sliding me an iced coffee. The sweet gesture makes my heart leap.

“What would I do without you?” I sigh as I take a sip. We walk over to the gate.

We board early thanks to Clark’s insistence that “if we’re going to be shoved in a flying metal tube, we should at least not be the last ones to do it.” Some superstition perhaps. We find our seats, side by side, and he graciously lets me take the window without asking.

“You know this isn’t a vacation, right?” I ask as he buckles in and pulls a small notebook from his backpack.

“Yup,” he says. “Which is why I brought… two pens, a folder of background research, and” he lifts a highlighter like it’s a rare gem “a color-coding system.”

I blink at him. “You highlight sources?”

“Just the ones that matter. And I put sticky tabs next to any previous quotes from the senator’s staff.”

He opens the folder, and sure enough it’s covered in blue, yellow, and green sticky tabs like some kind of papery mosaic. I look at him, impressed despite myself.

“You’re such a nerd.” I scoff.

He grins. “You say that like it’s not the reason Perry sent me with you.”

I smirk. “He sent you with me because you’ll agree to everything I won’t.”

“That too,” Clark says, then shrugs. “Also, you hate small talk. I thrive in small talk.”

“Ugh, I really do.”

We settle in as the plane taxis. I pull out my laptop, and he leans toward me, shoulder just barely brushing mine.

“So, here’s what I’m thinking,” I say, pulling up our shared notes. “The senator’s aide usually breaks around the third glass of wine. I’ll get her talking about the local funding bill, and you listen in for anything she says off-the-record. Half of what she says accidentally ends up printable.”

“I can do that.” Clark nods, pulling out his phone to take notes. “And if you need something to make her think she’s not being recorded…”

“Send in the big charming Kansas boy?”

He grins. “With dimples and everything.”

I roll my eyes, hiding a smile. “She won’t stand a chance.”

We go quiet for a minute. I’m reviewing past statements when I feel his eyes on me. “What?” I ask, not looking up.

“Nothing,” he says quickly, “just…you get this look when you’re working. Like your brain’s five steps ahead of the conversation.”

I glance over. He’s smiling softly soft curls spilling over his forehead.

“It’s intimidating,” he adds.

“You’re a literal 6’4 wall and you’re intimidated by me zoning out with coffee and a news brief?”

He shrugs again, shy this time. “I mean, yeah.”

I don’t know what to say to that, so I just laugh. “Well, keep flattering me and I might let you write the lede.”

Clark pretends to gasp. “Me? Writing the lede? Perry would faint.”

“Perry’s already half-feral. He’d just grumble and ask why there aren’t more em dashes.”

He chuckles, tapping at his screen again. I watch him for a second, his brow furrowed in concentration, bottom lip caught between his teeth, glasses slightly slipping down his nose. He really is… something.

“I’m glad it was you,” I hear myself say, and I mean it more than I expected.

His head turns slowly. “Yeah?”

I nod. Clark’s smile softens, and for a second he doesn’t say anything.

Then, voice low “Same. Honestly… I think everything’s better when it’s you.”

My chest tightens. Whether it’s the altitude or the way he’s looking at me I don’t know. But suddenly the plane feels a few degrees warmer.

I turn back to my screen.

“Don’t make me regret saying anything,” I warn lightly.

I get a lot of work done before we land. Clark insists on carrying my bag and honestly I don’t have the energy to argue. I just want to go to my room, take a bath and go to bed. We catch a cab to the hotel.

“One king bed, two nights,” the hotel clerk chirps, sliding over a single keycard.

Clark stares at the receptionist, then glances sideways at me. I should’ve known Perry was lying when he said ‘Don’t worry, the Planet’s covering everything.’

“One room?” I ask the receptionist, too stunned to even sound pissed. “That can’t be right.”

She checks again. “Yep. One room, one bed. For two nights.”

Beside me, Clark Kent exhales slowly, like he saw this coming. He doesn’t say anything, just rubs the back of his neck and gives me that “what are we gonna do” look.

“How could he mess this up? Should I call him?”

“No,” he says. “I’m not surprised. He once made me crash in his nephew’s dorm room to save on cab fare.”

I grab the key card with a sigh and head for the elevators

“I can take the floor,” he offers quietly as we enter the metal box.

I ignore that. “Let’s just get through tonight.”

The hotel room clicks shut behind us with a soft thud.

Clark’s already pulled off his shoes and is sorting through his suitcase with that usual quiet focus, as if he’s afraid to disturb the air itself. I set my carry-on by the dresser and unzip it, rummaging for my pajamas.

And then I remember.

I didn’t pack pants.

Nor sweats or shorts. Just a long T-shirt and underwear — the assumption being I’d have the room to myself. I sigh, holding the shirt in my hands like it might magically grow fabric. It doesn’t.

“Clark,” I sigh. He looks up at me in response “I didn’t bring any pants or shorts or any bottoms to sleep in.” I admit. His eyebrows raise slightly and I feel myself blush. “I usually sleep in a long shirt and call it a night I was just thinking I’d have my own room, but I can see how this could make you uncomforta—”

“You can sleep how you’re used to.” He interrupts with a laugh. “I don’t mind, in fact if it’ll help...” He says and pulls his pants down. “I’ll join in solidarity.” I freeze and my eyes go down to the sizable bulge in his boxers. No wonder he’s always tripping.

“Great.” Is all that comes out of my dry mouth before I head into the bathroom, change into the oversized tee, and glance at myself in the mirror. The shirt falls about mid-thigh. It’s fine. Totally fine. We’re coworkers. Professionals. Adults. We can do this.

When I step out, Clark’s at the foot of the bed, spreading out a blanket on the floor. He’s changed his dress shirt for a black t-shirt.

“You’re not seriously sleeping down there,” I say, eyebrows raised.

He looks up, flustered. “Well, yeah. I figured—one bed. I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“Clark, we're sleeping in the same room with no pants on, we've moved past uncomfortable.” I assure. “Plus the bed’s huge. And unless you’re a sleep-kicker or a midnight screamer, I think we’ll survive.”

His gaze flicks down to my bare legs just for a second. Then it jerks back up like it burned him. He swallows, the tips of his ears going pink.

“I—yyeah. Okay. If you’re sure.”

“I’m sure.” He nods once, then gently folds the blanket back up and places it over the chair. I climb into bed first, flipping the sheets back and settling against the pillows. The mattress dips slightly when he gets in on the opposite side, as far from me as the physics of the bed will allow.

For a few long seconds, we both lie there staring at the ceiling.

“Sooooo,” I drag casually, turning on the TV. “You up for something dumb and distracting?”

“Always,” he says, relaxing just enough for his arm to graze mine under the covers.

We land on a cooking competition — one of those chaotic ones where the contestants scream and chop at the same time. I laugh at something stupid someone yells, and when I glance at Clark, I catch it. He’s not watching the show. He’s watching me. Or, more specifically… my legs.

The blanket slipped a little, and the way I’m curled on my side has the hem of my shirt pulled higher than it should be. His gaze is locked, warm, stunned. Like he forgot himself.

I smirk, feeling a sudden sense of bravery. “See something interesting?”

He flinches like I caught him stealing. “I—no. I mean—”

“Relax,” I say, nudging his arm with mine. “You’re not as sneaky as you think.”

Clark clears his throat, smiling sheepishly as he shifts onto his back. “I’m hard trying not to look.” I go still.

He doesn’t realize what he’s said right away. Not until the words echo back into the quiet between us.

“That came out wrong. I meant I’m trying hard not to look.” He hastily corrects.

“Awww,” I say quietly, “almost wish you would’ve meant it the first time.”

“You do?” He asks looking over at me. I nod innocently in response and scoot closer to him but keeping a modest distance. His eyes are dark behind his glasses, lashes low, chest rising just a little faster than before. The kind of look that makes my stomach tighten and my skin buzz like static under the sheets.

“Careful,” he says, voice soft. “If you say things like that, I might start thinking you want me to look.”

I tilt my head slightly. “Maybe I do.”

His throat bobs as he swallows. One hand’s flat against his stomach under the blanket. The other flexes slightly at his side, like he’s deciding whether or not to reach.

You’re—” he starts, then stops. Tries again. “You’re making it very hard to be the respectful guy right now.”

“I don’t need you to be a saint, Kent,” I murmur, inching closer until my leg brushes his. “Just honest.”

We’re so close now I can feel the heat radiating off his skin. My shirt has ridden up again this time I let it. His gaze flicks down, lingers, then lifts again with effort.

“I think about you more than I should,” he admits, voice hoarse. “And I can’t stop.”

I close the last few inches between us, my hand grazing his chest. He’s solid warm and trembling slightly under my touch.

“Then don’t stop.” I encourage. His lips meet mine before I can say anything else it’s hot, hungry, too much and not enough. He kisses me like he’s been waiting for permission. Like this moment’s been living in his head, and now that it’s real, he’s not wasting a second.

I moan against his mouth as his hand slips beneath my shirt, fingers grazing the bare skin of my waist.

He moves quickly and is now pressing me into the mattress, all heat and pressure, and for a second I forget how to breathe. This is not the Clark I’m used to. The one who nervously adjusts his glasses and stumbles through interviews.

This Clark kisses with purpose he moves with precision. Like he’s been thinking about this for a long, long time.

His hand slides under my shirt, dragging up my ribs, and the sound he makes when he feels I’m not wearing a bra makes me crave him.

“You were planning on driving me crazy huh,” he murmurs against my jaw. “You knew exactly what you were doing walking around in just this.”

He fists the hem of the shirt in one hand and yanks it up, slowly, until I sit up to let him pull it over my head. It hits the floor, forgotten.

I’m bare to him now. My chest rising and falling, nerves sparking, but his gaze is hungry, not hesitant. Not shy. He sits up and gets rid of his own shirt. The way his muscles move mesmerize me and also where the hell have these muscles been?

“I knew you were beautiful,” he says, voice low, “but this is unfair.” Before I can respond, he leans in, mouth closing around my nipple, tongue flicking, sucking just enough to pull a gasp from my lips. His hand grips my hip, holding me still as my legs shift beneath him.

“Clark—” I moan, not even sure what I’m asking for.

He pulls back to look at me. And smirks.

“Say my name again.�� That tone it’s not a question.

“Clark,” I whisper, dazed.

He drags his mouth down my body, slow, open-mouthed kisses that leave heat in their wake. When he gets to my panties, he hooks his thumbs in the waistband and looks up at me.

“I’m going to take my time with you,” he says. “Okay?”

“Fuck yes.”

He pulls them down, eyes locked on mine the whole time. And then he spreads my thighs.No teasing now. He dips between them with deliberate focus, like he’s memorizing me with his mouth. Tongue deep, strong, controlled. It’s messy, it's wet and feels amazing. Perfect. Ruthless in the best way.

I feel his finger collecting my mess before he slips it inside of me. His tongue focuses on my clit circling it at the perfect pace. I gasp when he adds a second thick finger and I feel him curl them up slightly. My hips lift off the bed and his arm slings across my waist, pinning me down without effort.

“Don’t run from it,” he says, voice dark and quiet. “Take it.” His tongue speeds up and I feel a familiar feeling in the pit of my stomach. The orgasm rips through me too fast to brace for, and I cry out, hands tangled in his hair as he doesn’t let up. Not until I’m trembling and whimpering, pushing at his shoulders, but even then, he kisses back up my stomach like he owns every inch of me.

When his face meets mine again, his lips are slick, his eyes the darkest I’ve ever seen.

“Look at you,” he whispers, brushing hair from my face. “Already trembling and just from my tongue.”

I reach down between us, brushing over the hard length pressing against my thigh. He groans in response and stands to pull his boxers off. I moan at the size of it before he comes back, positioning himself between my legs. Our bare chests against each other.

“Condom?” He asks as he kisses me.

“I don’t have one,” I answer. “Wasn’t exactly planning on this,” I add between kisses. “Do you have one?” He hums against my lips before shaking his head.

“Do you want me to stop?” He asks and I feel the tip of him against my folds. I moan at the feeling and weigh my options. The head of him nudges against me, thick and impossibly hard.

“Don’t stop.” I say. He smiles and leans in to kiss me again. He reaches in hand down and runs his tip against me slowly collecting every bit of my slick.

“You’re going to feel me,” he says, brushing his lips over mine. “Every inch.”

I nod, biting my lip. But nothing prepares me.

He pushes in slowly—deliberately—and I feel it. All of him. Stretching me open, inch by inch, and I can’t hold back the moan that breaks out.

“Shhh,” he soothes. “I’ve got you.”

Once he’s fully in, he stills. Letting me adjust. He kisses my temple, my cheek, my jaw. But when I roll my hips, asking for more?

That softness disappears.

His fingers find my wrists and he pins them above my head to the bed, and he starts to move. Deep. Controlled. Punishingly slow strokes that make me forget my own name. His body is like a wall above me, his breath hot in my ear as he fucks me like he owns the air I breathe.

“You’ve got no idea,” he groans, “how long I’ve wanted to do this. To have you like this. Open. Mine.” Every word lights me up. I feel him in parts of me I’ve never felt before. I feel his palm press into my lower abdomen, heightening the intensity of it all. “And you feel even better than I imagined.”

“Clark,” I moan as I feel every inch of him. “You’re too big,” I say through gritted teeth as he continues to thrust into me.

“You’re taking me so good sweetheart,” he praises as he nips at the neck. My mouth hangs open when I feel him pull all the way out.

“Get on your hands and knees.” He orders and I turn around. He reaches above me grabbing a pillow and positions it under my belly. I arch my back and feel his strong hands grope my ass roughly. He pushes his cock inside me again in a swift thrust making me grip the bed sheets. His hands move to my hips holding me so tight I can feel the bruises already. He moves my hair to one side and I feel his breath behind my ear giving me goosebumps.

“You feel so fucking good,” he growls. “So tight around me. I could stay inside you forever.”

I gasp when I feel one of his hands reach around me and he begins to rub circles against my sensitive heat.

“Do you like it when I touch you here?” He asks quietly before kissing my neck. I nod my head but that must not be good for him because I feel him grip my hair from the back of my head close to the scalp so it doesn’t hurt. The pressure surprisingly brings more pleasure. His other hand stops and I let out a pathetic whine. “Answer my question.” He says

“Yes.” I reply.

“Yes what?” He asks his grip on my hair tightening.

“Yes I like when you touch me.” I say turning my head to look at him. He gives me a sloppy kiss, his tongue dominating mine. His hips begin to rock against mine again. His mouth swallows my moans.

“How much do you like it?” He asks between kisses.

“So much.” I say out of breath. His other hand moves to circle my nub again and my legs involuntarily come together.

“You’re close aren’t you,” he asks but I can’t form a thought. “I can feel it, you’re tightening up, so greedy.”

“Clark—” he pulls out again, moving the pillow and flipping me over. He pushes my thighs wide open and puts himself back in me.

“I wanna watch your pretty little mouth say my name.” He says as he looks down at me. His hips slap against mine with an obscene smack. I roll my eyes back when he tilts his hips slightly hitting me at just the right spot.

“Say my name when you come,” he demands. “Let me hear it.” And I do. Louder than I mean to. Again and again, until he loses it too, his rhythm stutters, his grip tightens, and he buries himself deep with a groan that sounds like he’s breaking. I feel his hot release in me and that alone makes me wanna cum again.

He collapses on top of me, careful but breathless. We’re both panting. Sweating. Shaking.

And then he lifts his head, kisses me sweetly, and smiles showing off his dimples.

“Glad I forgot pants?” I ask, feeling dazed.

He chuckles shyly, rolling onto his side, pulling me with him.

“Please forget them any time.” He says with a cheesy grin. I could get used to this.

[mcu-binge]

Summary: You and Clark are assigned to work on a story together. Things take a turn when an accident turns into something deeper

Word count: ~550

a/n : another fluffy story inspired by these perfect dimples.

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I didn’t ask to be paired with Clark.

In fact, I’d specifically asked not to be, because working next to him for more than fifteen minutes tends to make my brain short-circuit. Not because he’s difficult or moody like Jimmy, he’s the opposite of that. Kind, patient, polite to a fault. But god, he’s sweet. Endearingly awkward. Ridiculously handsome and every time he offers a sweet smile his deep dimples are irritatingly distracting.

So of course Perry assigns us the juiciest lead the Planet’s seen in months. Corrupt city contractor, embezzlement, buried records it’s the kind of thing that demands late nights, highlighters, half coffee drunk conversations, and very close collaboration.

Which is exactly how we end up in Clark’s apartment at 1:43 a.m., surrounded by coffee, case files, cold takeout, and enough tension to power the building’s entire grid.

“You sure I’m not in your way?” I ask, stretching across from him grabbing a file and trying to ignore the way the muscles in his biceps moved when he flips a file open.

Clark glances up from the coffee table with a smile. “Not even a little.” His voice is soft, warm.

“Can you hand me the file with the tax records?” I ask. He holds them out and when I reach for them he pulls them up high. “Clark.” I laugh off.

“Grab ‘em,” he encourages with a soft smile. I reach for them and he moves them further from me. “Almost,” he teases.

“You realize this story’s gonna put us on the front page,” I say, trying to focus.

“If we survive the night,” he replies making my throat go dry. I go on my knees and reach for the papers across his lap. He laughs when he stretches his arm out further and I notice how long his arms are.

“You’re a giant.” I laugh reaching out further “and a literal child.” I lose my balance and in a clumsy attempt to catch myself from crashing down on him I hastily move my hand to catch myself and come straight down on his crotch.

“Oh my god,” I gasp when I hear him groan. “Are you ok?” I frantically ask. He keeps his eyes closed like he’s trying to keep his pain internal and nods his head yes. “I’m so sorry Clark it was an accident.” I say. He slowly leans over resting his forehead on my shoulder.

“I’m just gonna breathe through it,” he says in a strained voice and as sorry as I am I can’t help but laugh quietly. Then I notice my hand is still on him. “Crap sorry,” I say pulling it away.

He exhales again, but this time it’s a little shaky. “You’re dangerous.”

“It was an accident. Can I do anything?” I ask not knowing how to go about this.

“You make it really, really hard to be a gentleman.” He says after a few seconds.

“Well lucky for you I’m not all that nice,” I say with a shy smile.

“How not nice?” He questions lifting his head and I see that devious little smile on his lips. Our faces are inches apart kind of like testing the water.

“Want me to show you?” I whisper.

“Show me.” He encourages and I lean in. The kiss is soft at first slow and hesitant, like we’re both checking to see if we imagined the tension all along. But when I slip my hand under the hem of his shirt and he groans just barely, it ignites something else entirely. The files scatter as he guides me to straddle him. I feel his hands gripping my waist like he’s afraid I’ll disappear if he lets go.

“Where was this Clark,” I murmur against his lips. “You’re not exactly shy are you?”

He smiles, breathless causing deep dimples to appear. “That’s because I’ve wanted to do this since the day you stole my stapler.”

“I borrowed it.” I correct with laugh.

“You kept it for three weeks.”

“Maybe I was waiting for you to come and get it.”

“Then I’m really late to the party,” he says before kissing down my neck. “I’m gonna have to make up for lost time and I’ll take my time.”

[mcu-binge]

summary: You and Clark are having a movie night he’s indecisive and adorable. It’s all fluff just fluffy sweet dorky Clark

w/c: 750

a/n: just a cute scenario David as Superman is my current hyper fixation

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Movie nights should be easy.

But not with Clark.

I mean, when you’re dating Superman. You’d think the guy who’s faced alien invasions and interdimensional warlords wouldn’t get overwhelmed by a simple streaming menu. And yet, here we are….ten minutes in, and he’s pacing in front of the TV like it’s a hostage negotiation.

“Well,” I say, holding up the remote. “What are we in the mood for? Action? Comedy? Maybe a psychological thriller?”

Clark visibly flinches. “Thriller? Like… scary thriller? Or… like, brain twisty thriller?”

I raise an eyebrow. “The second one.”

He exhales, relieved. “Okay. Good. I can do twisty. Just… not the jump scares. I’m still recovering from that Haunting of Hill House debacle.” The way his tone fluctuates from high to normal makes me smile.

“You screamed.” I say laughing at the memory.

“I yelped,” he corrects shaking his head slightly, pushing his glasses up his nose. “A very masculine yelping, I might add.”

“Uh-huh.” I said deadpan.

He finally flops down beside me on the couch, his long limbs managing to take up half the space despite the blanket I strategically laid out as a barrier. Not that it mattered because within seconds, he’s draping himself over me like my own security blanket.

“Can we, uh… just maybe do a rewatch instead? Of something familiar?” His voice heightens slightly. He tugs at the hem of my hoodie like a shy kid asking for attention. “I don’t know maybe something, um… comforty.”

“Comforty?” I question knowing exactly where this was going.

“Yeah. Like, um something that feels safe.” He clears his throat, then adds, almost whispering, “And that doesn’t, you know, involve dogs dying. Or grandparents. Or best friends parting ways…”

“So no stakes whatsoever is what I’m hearing?”

“I get enough stakes at work,” he mumbles into my shoulder. “I just wanna hold you and listen to you laugh and not think about….about anything exploding.”

I pause scrolling. “You want The Proposal, don’t you?”

Clark perks up instantly. “I mean…..I wouldn’t say no to it. I mean, it’s a classic. Very underrated cinema. And y-you always laugh when Betty White does the chanting in the forest. If-If anything I’m doing this for you.”

I narrow my eyes at him. “You just want an excuse to quote Ryan Reynolds again.”

“I—n-no! I—well. Okay. Maybe. But also wait, wait…can I just say something?” He sits up, half on his knees now, eyes wide behind those crooked glasses. There’s a smear of chocolate from the popcorn mix on his thumb, which he totally doesn’t notice as he presses it to his heart like he’s about to make a speech at the Oscars. “I save people and animals all day. I fly around and punch things and stop very big problems. But none of that makes me feel as good as just being here. With you. On this couch. Watching anything. Even if it’s Moana for the fiftieth time. And if I sound needy it’s just because I am. I miss you even when I’m in the same room.”

I blink. “Clark…”

“And I—I think you smell like home. And your couch has this squeaky cushion I like and your popcorn tastes better than mine which is weird because I know I buy the same brand-” He stops when he notices my silence, cheeks pink. “I’m rambling.”

“You are.”

“But I mean every word.”

I stare at him for a long second, and then, slowly, I press play on The Proposal.

He lights up like a kid at Christmas.

“I knew you loved me,” he whispers, smug, pulling me into his chest as the movie starts.

“Clark?”

“Yeah?” He asks looking over at me.

“If you quote one line before it happens, I will switch it a documentary about fungus.”

“…what if I whisper it?” He whispers

“Clark.” I whisper back

“…okay. Shutting up now. I love you.”

“I love you too, clingwrap.”

He grins into my hair, and I swear, I can feel him melt into me just a little.

So yeah. Movie night with Superman is anything but simple. But I wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.

[mcu-binge]

Clark Kent is a needy boyfriend

[mcu-binge]

The older Chris Evans gets the thicker his Boston accent gets 🤝

[mcu-binge]

Bee Movie (2007) dir. Simon J. Smith & Steve Hickner X-Men: First Class (2011) dir. Matthew Vaughn

[mcu-binge]

Love in Brooklyn pt 17

I woke up at dawn, stretching out sore muscles that had become a constant reminder of how much my life had changed. Three weeks ago, the only heavy lifting I did was mixing dough at the bakery or lugging around flour bags. Now, I was learning to throw punches, break out of holds, and, if Bucky had his way, throw a knife straight into a bullseye. And honestly... I was starting to love it.

First up on today's agenda was self-defense with Natasha. I found her in the training room, stretching out in front of the mirrors, looking as composed as ever. She glanced up as I walked in, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of her lips.

"Ready for another beating?" she asked, her tone teasing, though I knew she meant it. Nat had a knack for making every training session feel like survival of the fittest.

"Bring it on," I shot back, rolling my shoulders and bracing myself. She'd never gone easy on me, but that was kind of the point.

Nat wasted no time. Within minutes, we were on the mat, and she was demonstrating escape techniques while keeping me on my toes with feints and counters. She came at me with a sudden hook, and I barely dodged in time, rolling under her arm and attempting a wrist lock I'd practiced at least a hundred times by now.

But this time, she couldn't break free. I actually held her.

"Nice," she said, nodding in approval. "You're getting it." Her voice held the rare warmth of a compliment, and I couldn't help the smile that broke across my face. "Guess I've got a decent teacher," I said, trying not to sound too proud.

Nat smirked. "Just remember—confidence is good, but don't get cocky." Before I knew it, she had reversed the hold, pinning my arm behind my back in an instant. "There's always someone faster, smarter, and meaner out there."

She let go, and I rubbed my wrist, still grinning. "Lesson learned, sensei," I teased, bowing dramatically.

Nat rolled her eyes but gave a little laugh. "Get out of here," she said. "You've got a date with a certain supersoldier next."

Right on cue, Bucky was leaning against the doorway as I left the training room, flipping a small blade between his fingers. He looked up, a mischievous grin spreading across his face.

"Looks like Nat went easy on you," he drawled. "Guess I'll have to pick up the slack."

"Oh, please," I scoffed. "After three weeks with you, I'm basically an expert."

He raised an eyebrow. "Is that so? Well, let's see what you've got, doll." He tossed the knife to me, and I caught it just in time, his smirk widening as I fumbled slightly with the handle.

"What? Where's my knife?" I asked, noting the practice blade's blunt edges.

He grinned. "Not until you've learned not to stab yourself. Remember what happened yesterday?" He asked and I look at the bandage around my forearm.

I rolled my eyes, twirling the knife between my fingers with a little more flair than was probably necessary. "You're hilarious, you know that?"

"Only for you, doll." His gaze lingered on me, and I felt a warmth rise to my cheeks that I quickly ignored. "Come on, let's see what you've got."

We started with the basics—throwing and retrieving, his hands guiding mine each time I adjusted my grip. He stood behind me, his chest brushing my back, and I could feel his breath tickling my neck as he spoke.

"Try not to let your elbow lock," he murmured, his hand moving to correct my stance. "You'll end up hurting yourself."

My pulse quickened a little, and I swallowed as I felt his breath by my ear. "Easy for you to say, you're the human weapon here."

He chuckled, low and smooth. "I've got faith in you. Besides," he said, leaning in, "if you mess up, I'll just catch the knife. No pressure."

I turned to give him a challenging look. "Is that right? What if I aim for you?" I notice how close our faces were.

"Oh, is that a threat?" His eyes sparkled with amusement as he stepped back, crossing his arms. "Go ahead, take your best shot."

With a smirk, I took aim, throwing the knife toward the target, and it hit—just barely—but it hit. I turned back to him, raising my eyebrows. "Well?"

He feigned a look of surprise, clapping slowly. "Not bad, doll. You're getting there."

"Getting there?" I scoffed. "I think I just nailed it."

He laughed, stepping closer. "Yeah? Well, keep that up and you might just survive out there." His voice softened a little. "Seriously, Dani. You're doing great."

His words warmed me more than I expected. "Thanks, Buck," I murmured, looking down at the knife in my hand. "It actually means a lot... coming from you."

Bucky's eyes lingered on mine, a flicker of something unspoken passing between us. But before I could dwell on it, he gave my shoulder a gentle nudge. "Alright, enough chit-chat. Go find Rogers. Bet he's itching to knock you around a bit."

"Funny, I thought that was your job," I shot back, and he smirked as I turned to leave.

As I headed back to the room I shared with Steve to grab a quick lunch, I thought about how far I'd come since we'd started. I wasn't just the girl they'd rescued anymore. I was learning, growing stronger. I knew there was still a long way to go, but I was determined.

When I stepped into the room, though, I could feel Steve's eyes on me immediately. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, his gaze cool as he looked around. "You've really... made yourself at home," he said, his tone unreadable.

I followed his gaze, taking in the few changes I'd made. I'd added a couple of woven blankets, a small plant on the dresser, even a picture of my family tucked into the corner of the mirror. Little things that made me feel connected to who I was. I had started incorporating my things to the room and I did notice Steve's eyes linger on them for a while but he never said anything explicitly.

"Yeah...I guess I have," I said, not sure why he sounded almost... irritated.

He rose, crossing his arms as he looked over the blankets and decorations. "It's just..." he muttered. "I liked it simple. Didn't really need all these changes."

The comment stung more than I wanted to admit, but I shrugged, trying to brush it off. "I'm sorry. I just thought... it might help me feel at home. You know like the one that blew up?"

Steve's eyes flickered with something I couldn't place, and he let out a slow breath. "Maybe you should focus less on 'feeling at home' and more on your training."

"Excuse me?" I asked, taken aback by the sudden coldness in his voice. "I train every fucking day I don't remember what it feels like to not be sore. I'm sorry for trying to make this room just a little bit mine."

He glanced away, his jaw tightening. "Look, Dani, this isn't... it's not a vacation. You're here to learn to defend yourself, to get strong enough to survive. Not to redecorate."

The words hit me like a slap, and for a moment, I just stared at him, trying to process what he was saying. "I know that, Steve," I said, keeping my voice as steady as I could. "I do take this seriously."

"Then show it," he replied, his tone hard. "Stop wasting time on little comforts and put everything you have into training."

I clenched my fists, feeling anger start to bubble up. "I am putting everything I have into this," I snapped. "Just because I want a few things that remind me of my life doesn't mean I'm not taking this seriously."

He stared at me for a moment, as if weighing my words, but his expression didn't soften. "We'll see about that. Meet me in the gym after lunch. We're going through drills again."

I bit back a retort, nodding stiffly. "Fine."

As he walked out, I felt a mix of anger, hurt, and frustration swirling inside me. I'd thought he'd understood why I needed those little things. Why they mattered to me. But it felt like every step I took forward, he was pushing me two steps back.

After lunch, I found him in the gym, already setting up. He didn't even glance at me as I approached, just launched straight into the drills. Punches, kicks, blocks—he ran me through every move until my muscles were screaming and my breath came in short gasps. But he didn't let up.

"Focus!" he barked as I missed a block. "You think someone's going to give you a break in a real fight?" He came after me again and again I tried to hold him back but he was too strong.

I gritted my teeth, determined not to let him see how much his words stung. "I know that, Steve," I replied, trying to keep my voice steady as I kept up with his relentless pace.

He nodded curtly, barely acknowledging my response, before moving to the next drill. By the end of it, my body was a bundle of aches and exhaustion, but he didn't offer a word of praise or encouragement, just a curt "Good. We'll do this again tomorrow."

As he walked away, I felt a mixture of anger and disappointment building inside me. I knew he wanted me to get stronger, to be able to protect myself, but this? This felt like something else. Like he was testing me, pushing me to see if I'd crack.

And for the first time, I wondered if maybe he didn't really believe I could do this.

The tension had been simmering all day, building slowly, almost without my noticing—until I felt it start to boil over.

I'd only been trying to make this place feel a little more like home, adjusting things to make the space more comfortable, more mine. I cleaned a lot which he didn't point out, obviously. After my shower I went into the kitchen and everything was made for giants so since I'm the one doing the cooking now a days I'd moved a few things around in the kitchen, put a few of my favorite spices in reach, even added a small plant I potted to the counter. I liked how it looked; it made the space a tiny bit warmer, more inviting.

But when Steve came into the kitchen, he barely noticed me before his eyes settled on the changes. He stopped, staring at the plant as if it had appeared by magic. He took a deep breath, and I could see the stiffness in his jaw as he walked over to the counter, moving my things back exactly to where they'd been before.

"What? You don't like a little green in here?" I tried to laugh it off, brushing it aside.

He didn't answer right away, and the silence felt sharper than any response. Finally, he looked at me, his voice quiet but firm. "I just... I have a way of doing things around here, Dani. It's worked well."

I crossed my arms, the defensiveness rising almost automatically. "Steve, it's just a plant and a few spices closer to me. It's not like I rearranged the whole kitchen. Which I probably should because I'm the only one making everyone's meals. It's not a big deal."

"Maybe not," he replied, his voice tight. "But it's the principle of it. This space—it's... I know it doesn't seem like much, but it's where I feel organized. Controlled. When you start moving things around without asking, it just... throws things off."

"Throws things off?" I repeated, incredulous. "When was the last time you cooked any thing?"

He set his jaw. "That's not the point. The point is, this is the place I come back to, where I have my routine. And maybe this sounds silly to you, but I need that."

I bit my lip, feeling frustration flare. "You mean your routine. Your comfort. Steve, I live here too now. I need to feel at home in this place too."

"I understand that," he replied, his voice growing colder. "But can't you just... ease into it? Give it a little time before making it... yours?"

That did it. I could feel myself bristling, my voice coming out sharper than I'd intended. "Do you even realize how you sound right now? Like I'm intruding on your space. Do you remember what happened to my space? It got blown up. I don't have it anymore. I don't have anything. And you won't let me have a plant or a few spices within my reach. I'm not a guest here. I'm stuck here and I shouldn't have to tiptoe around.

For a second, I thought he'd back down. But instead, he just shook his head, crossing his arms as he looked at me. "You're overreacting."

"Am I?" I said, stepping closer. "Because from where I'm standing, it feels like I'm hitting some kind of wall with you every time I try to settle in here. God forbid I make myself at home, right?"

Steve looked down, running a hand over his face. "It's not that, Dani. You're taking it the wrong way."

I laughed, the sound harsher than I'd meant it to be. "Taking it the wrong way? Steve, I feel like you just don't want me to make this place feel like mine at all. Like you don't really want me here."

A flash of hurt crossed his face, but he covered it quickly. "You're twisting my words."

"Maybe I wouldn't have to if you'd actually talk to me instead of making me feel like an intruder. I'm trying to make this place feel like a home."

Steve took a step back, his eyes darkening. "Your home? You didn't exactly have a place here before, Dani. You came here because it was safer, not because you needed to redecorate."

The words hit like a slap. I felt the blood rush to my cheeks as my frustration boiled over into anger. "Wow. Okay, Steve. Thanks for reminding me how temporary I am here."

He looked as if he wanted to say something, but he just clenched his jaw, remaining silent.

I turned on my heel, grabbing my coat, my movements stiff with tension. As I made my way toward the door, I saw Bucky walking by. His expression was unreadable, but there was something sympathetic in his eyes as he watched me storm past. For a moment, he opened his mouth as if to say something, but then closed it, offering only a quiet nod of understanding.

Fuming, I made my way outside, the cool air stinging my face as I breathed in deeply, trying to calm myself. I need to walk it off.

Later that afternoon, after cooling off a bit, I found myself wandering down the hallway, looking for someone to talk to. My feet carried me to Tony's lab. He always seemed to have an open door policy when it came to offering advice—even if his advice often came with a fair bit of sarcasm.

I stepped inside, knocking softly on the doorframe. Tony looked up from his workstation, raising an eyebrow at me. "Well, if it isn't the kitchen decorator," he said, smirking. "Did you come to critique my lab next?"

I forced a small smile. "Not exactly." I hesitated, and his expression softened as he realized I wasn't here for small talk.

"Alright, take a seat. What's on your mind?" He set down his tools and gave me his full attention, which felt like a small comfort already.

I took a deep breath, sinking into a chair across from him. "It's Steve," I said, almost relieved to get the words out. "We had a fight. A stupid, ridiculous fight, but... it's left me feeling like I don't belong here. Like maybe I'm pushing too hard to make this place feel like home. Am I encroaching so badly?"

Tony's face softened, and he nodded. "I'm guessing the fight was over something minor?"

I laughed, feeling the absurdity of it. "A plant, Tony. A literal potted plant. And some spices."

Tony chuckled, shaking his head. "Ah, yes, nothing says world-ending crisis like interior design." He leaned back in his chair, sighing. "Look, Steve's... well, a man of routine. He's set in his ways, especially in his space. He's been living here for a while now, and sometimes, even small changes throw him off more than he'd like to admit. But that's no excuse for him to make you feel unwelcome."

I looked down, picking at a loose thread on my sleeve. "I just wanted to feel like this was my space too. I know he has a lot on his mind, and I didn't want to step on his toes, but... I don't know, it's been harder these last couple days."

Tony was quiet for a moment, and then he nodded thoughtfully. "Well, I'll tell you what—I think maybe a bit of space wouldn't hurt. Why don't I set you up in one of the spare rooms for now? I know you're sharing with Steve, but having your own space might help you both feel a little less... pressured."

I felt a sense of relief wash over me. "You'd really do that?"

"Of course," Tony said with a wave of his hand, as if it were the easiest decision in the world. "I know what it's like to have to adjust to someone else in your space. And I also know that you don't want to feel like you're tiptoeing around. This might be just what you need—a place that's just yours."

I managed a small smile. "Thank you, Tony. Really."

He shrugged, flashing me a reassuring smile. "Hey, we're all family here, in our own weird way. Besides, you can't tell Steve, but I actually like having a little greenery around. So maybe we can find your plant a new spot too. Maybe here in the lab to spruce things up."

I laughed, feeling lighter for the first time all day. Tony had this way of making things feel less serious, less daunting, and I was grateful for it.

"Alright, come on," he said, standing up and gesturing for me to follow. "Let's go pick out your new room. And remember, if you ever need to let off steam, my door's always open—just maybe not when I'm mid-experiment. Don't want any weird shit ruining your day."

Tony and I walked through the winding hallways of the compound, and as he pointed out rooms that might work, I found myself getting a little more relaxed, imagining a small haven of my own.

"What about this one?" he asked, opening the door to a cozy room on the quieter side of the compound. The space had a bed and a small window with a view of the trees outside, but something about it didn't feel right. It was peaceful but... a little too cold.

I shook my head. "I don't know, Tony. Maybe something with a bit more light?"

He shrugged, already leading me further down the corridor. "Alright, picky. Let's try the east wing. There's an empty stretch down there that hardly anyone uses. It's almost like its own little hideaway."

That sounded more like what I was hoping for. As we reached the east wing, I noticed the hallways were quiet, almost serene. I could barely hear the usual compound noise from here, and sunlight poured in through high windows, casting a soft glow on the floor.

Tony gestured to a door and opened it, revealing a room with a large window that looked out onto the compound's gardens. It felt warm, inviting—almost like my apartment had, back before all of this.

I couldn't help but smile as I stepped inside. "This is perfect, Tony."

"Good," he said, giving me a satisfied nod. "Then I'll leave you to settle in. Just don't put any more plants in Steve's room, alright?"

I laughed, feeling a bit of the tension fade. "Noted. Thanks, Tony."

Once he left, I went back to Steve's room, gathering my things, which mostly included a few clothes and that plant I'd tried to brighten the space with. With my arms full, I made my way back to my new room in the east wing. As I rounded the corner, though, I nearly collided with someone else.

Bucky.

"Oh! Bucky, hey," I said, trying not to fumble with my things.

He raised an eyebrow, glancing down at the pile in my arms. "Moving out?" He asked as he took a couple things from my hands.

"Thanks, and no just... giving Steve some space," I replied, suddenly feeling a little embarrassed. "I didn't realize anyone else stayed down here."

He smirked, leaning against his doorframe. "Not many do. It's why I like it. Quiet and out of the way." He nodded toward the door next to mine. "Guess we're neighbors now."

I felt my face heat up, but I tried to shrug it off casually. "Good to know I'll have some company," I said, setting down the plant on a side table by the door, "or someone to steal sugar from if I ever need it."

He chuckled, his eyes softening as he watched me. "I'm sure we can work something out. Maybe you'll bring a little life to this place."

I rolled my eyes, but there was a smile on my lips. "We'll see if I get the time for that."

He studied me for a moment before stepping closer, his expression more serious. "Hey... you okay?"

I met his gaze, and something in those clear blue eyes made me feel like he was really asking. Not just out of politeness, but because he genuinely wanted to know.

I hesitated, looking down at the plant in my arms before meeting Bucky's gaze. His eyes were steady, sincere, waiting.

"No, actually," I admitted, feeling a lump in my throat as the words came out. "I'm not okay, Bucky. I feel... lost. Like nothing in my life is really mine anymore. My apartment's gone I don't have my bakery, I can't talk to my family, and Steve and I... I thought we were fine but he's just been so...." My voice wavered, and I swallowed, trying to hold it together. "It's just... a lot."

Bucky's expression softened, and he nodded, like he understood more than I could put into words.

"Yeah, it sounds like a lot." He was quiet for a moment, studying me with that familiar, intense look. "I'm here for you."

I managed a small smile, one that didn't quite reach my eyes. "Thanks, Bucky. Really."

He gave me a reassuring nod, stepping a bit closer. "You don't have to go through it alone, you know? If you need help carrying any of it, even just for a minute... I'm right next door."

The way he said it made something in my chest loosen, just a bit.

"Thank you," I whispered, my voice barely audible, but I could tell he heard it.

With a small smile, I opened the door to my new room and stepped inside. I turned back to see Bucky still standing in the hall, giving me a gentle nod before he retreated into his room.

I heard a harsh knock on my door that startled me. I was about to say come in when the door swung open.

"What is this?" Steve asked motioning around the room.

"I got my own room that I can decorate and remodel as I please without being made uncomfortable," I reply as I fluff my throw pillow.

"Dani I've never had to share my space I had tried to keep my lid on but today....I don't know I guess it just all decided to come out." He said with a sigh

"Well now you don't have to share a space," I say moving to fold my clothes.

"That wasn't it, I just have to get used to it." He said and I shook my head immediately.

"I'm not leaving this room," I said standing my ground. "Why don't you go think about what being in a relationship would actually mean because I don't want to have a future with someone who throws shit in my face just because they don't know how to communicate how they're feeling at the time." He looked defeated shook his head and left. I sat down on the bed and brought my hands to my face. All this over some plants.

"Looks a little too bare not really your taste," I hear a voice say. I looked up and saw Bucky leaning against my door. I see a playful smile on his face. "How about we go out and get you some stuff." He suggests. I wipe a tear away and smile.

"Really?" I asked

"Yes," he nods coming closer.

"But Tony and Steve said I can't leave," I say looking up at him.

"No one is going to recognize you." He promised as he brings out two caps and sunglasses. "And I won't tell anyone." He smirked. I stand and let him put a baseball cap on me.

The cool air hit my face as we sped down the quiet back roads on Bucky's motorcycle. I wrapped my arms tighter around his waist as he navigated the streets smoothly, effortlessly keeping a low profile while we slipped through the city unnoticed.

Once we reached the small, artsy district I'd been hoping to visit, we spent the afternoon wandering through various shops. Bucky helped me pick out everything from soft, cozy blankets to quirky knick-knacks, teasing me the entire time about my "unusual taste."

"Oh, come on. You're telling me you don't see the charm in a cactus-shaped lamp?" I laughed, holding up a miniature ceramic cactus.

He raised an eyebrow, smirking. "Hey, you're the decorator. I'm just the chauffeur. But if that cactus makes you happy, go for it."

By the time we finished, we'd collected far more than I expected. I looked at the pile of bags in my hands, then back at Bucky's bike, realization dawning on me. "Um... I didn't really think this through, did I?"

Bucky let out a short laugh, surveying the bags and then his motorcycle with an amused shake of his head. "Guess you really went all out," he teased. "But don't worry—we'll make it work."

"We'll have to balance this just right," I said, trying not to laugh at the ridiculousness of it all.

Bucky shifted a couple bags over to himself, somehow managing to fit two under one arm. "If I have to look ridiculous, I guess it's worth it to make your cactus lamp dream a reality," he said with mock solemnity, glancing over at me with a smirk.

Laughing, I nudged his arm. "It's not just about the lamp," I said, trying to sound serious but failing. "It's the principle of the thing."

"Oh, of course. The principle," he replied, chuckling. "I'll remember that next time we're stuffing five bags of decor onto my bike."

As we finally loaded the last of our bags and balanced them as best we could, I shot him a grateful smile. "Thank you, Bucky. Really."

He gave me a warm look, his blue eyes softer than usual. "Anytime, doll. And hey... I think that cactus lamp might actually grow on me."

As we arrived back at the compound, I could barely contain my excitement. Bucky had somehow managed to help me carry all the bags with rolls of fabric and decorations on the back of his bike. We'd looked like some kind of carnival act on wheels no doubt, wobbling and balancing the overloaded bike, laughing the whole way.

When we finally stepped inside the compound, I let out a sigh of relief. "I didn't think we'd make it here with everything in one piece," I laughed, setting down a bag full of bright throw pillows and patterned rugs.

Bucky chuckled, a teasing smirk playing on his lips. "You have little faith in me, doll," he replied, his eyes glinting with amusement as he began to unload the rest of our bags. "A few dozen pillows? No big deal."

I playfully elbowed him. "A few dozen? Don't be dramatic."

He raised an eyebrow, feigning shock. "Oh, I'm the dramatic one? You're the one who bought every single cactus candle in the store." He said pointing at the collection I brought.

I rolled my eyes. "I like cactus candles. They make me feel good."

His expression softened, and for a moment, he just looked at me, his smirk fading to a small, genuine smile. "That's all that matters."

My cheeks warmed a little, but I quickly shook it off, turning toward the bags. "Let's get started. I have big plans for this place."

We spent the next few hours unpacking and arranging everything. Bucky insisted on handling the heavier items, like a large woven tapestry to hang on the wall. I found myself enjoying every second of it—every moment filled with easy conversation, laughter, and the kind of warmth I hadn't realized I'd missed.

"What about the pillows?" Bucky asked, tossing one of them onto the couch with surprising accuracy.

"Those are going on the bed," I answered, adjusting a rug underfoot to make it lie flat. "It needs a pop of color."

Bucky raised an eyebrow, looking slightly bewildered as he glanced at the assortment of pillows in my arms. "A 'pop of color,' huh?"

I couldn't help but laugh at the skepticism on his face. "Yes, exactly. Don't worry, you'll get it when it all comes together."

"If you say so," he chuckled, grabbing a few more items and setting them around the room as I'd asked.

Eventually, as I started to arrange the small decorations, Bucky plopped down on the couch, looking around at the nearly finished room. "I gotta hand it to you, Dani. You've got a good eye. Place already looks different. Feels... cozier."

I sat beside him, smiling as I looked around. The room had definitely transformed. The walls, once plain and bare, now boasted a few vibrant tapestries and framed photos I'd brought from home. The couch was piled with a colorful mix of throw blankets, some handmade pottery sat on the coffee table, and the faint scent of cactus candles filled the air.

"It does, doesn't it?" I murmured, feeling a surge of pride. "It's starting to feel like me."

He nodded slowly, his gaze lingering on me. "It suits you. A place that feels warm and full of life."

I could feel the air between us shift, his usual teasing replaced by something softer. The silence grew heavier, but it was comforting. Eventually, I cleared my throat, brushing off the butterflies that had started to flutter in my stomach. "So, you think Steve will like it?"

Bucky leaned back, a bit of mischief returning to his expression. "I dunno. He can be picky and kind of an ass," he teased. "But if he's got any sense, he'll see you've made this place... special."

Our eyes met, and for a second, I forgot where we were, caught in the intensity of his gaze. Just as quickly, he blinked and looked away, scratching the back of his neck. "Anyway," he muttered, standing up, "we should probably clean up the bags and all."

"Right, right," I said, snapping out of it. I stood up, grabbing a few empty bags and starting to gather the scraps of packaging.

Together, we cleaned up in comfortable silence, moving around each other with an ease I couldn't quite explain. When everything was finally in place, Bucky turned to me, his blue eyes full of warmth. "You've got yourself a nice little sanctuary here, Dani."

"Thank you," I said, the words full of genuine gratitude.

He grinned, taking one last look around before heading toward the door. "Well, doll, it's getting late. But if you need anything else moved around or want to go shopping for more cactus candles... you know who to call."

I rolled my eyes, chuckling. "I'll keep that in mind, Barnes. Thanks again. For everything."

"Anytime, Dani," he replied, his smile lingering as he turned and left the room, leaving me in my newly decorated space feeling content, grateful, and—if I was honest—just a little bit lost in thought.

[mcu-binge]

Love in Brooklyn pt 16

**SMUT WARNING**

Steve knew I'd been struggling, even if I tried to hide it for days. I'd lost my home, my sense of security, and nearly every connection to my old life. My family and friends thought I'd just vanished, and I couldn't contact them to explain why. All of it weighed on me more than I wanted to admit. So, when Steve appeared beside me, a soft smile on his face, I immediately felt my nerves settle just a bit.

"Hey," he said, his voice gentle. "Come with me. I have a surprise."

Curiosity tugged at me. "A surprise? Steve, you didn't have to—"

"Just trust me," he said, offering his hand. I took it, letting him lead me down a dimly lit hallway and up to the rooftop of the compound.

The moment we stepped outside, I gasped. He'd set up a small table under strings of soft, warm lights. There were flowers—wildflowers, like the kind you'd pick on a hike I could see the roots and dirt pooling at the bottom. The thought of Steve running around the woods collecting flowers made my heart happy—and even a couple of candles flickering in the gentle breeze. It wasn't extravagant, but it was thoughtful, and in this chaotic life we were trapped in, it was perfect.

"Steve...," I whispered, touched beyond words. "You did all this?"

He shrugged, a shy smile spreading across his face. "I just thought you deserved a little normalcy. It's something...just for us."

We sat down, and he poured me a glass of wine, his eyes never leaving mine as he handed it over. For a few minutes, we simply ate and talked about silly things—memories of Brooklyn, favorite foods, embarrassing childhood stories. I almost forgot we were stuck in the middle of a crisis.

But as we sat there, he grew serious, setting his fork down and reaching for my hand. "Dani, there's something I need to talk to you about."

I nodded, bracing myself. "What's on your mind?"

"I know you're not used to this life. And I know how much it's taken from you," he said softly, his thumb brushing over the back of my hand. "But I need you to be prepared. If it ever comes down to it...I need to know you can protect yourself."

I swallowed, trying to push back the doubt that crept in. "Steve, I don't know. This world—it's so far from anything I ever imagined. I feel like I'm just...in the way. I mean, I almost got Bucky killed for my recipe book."

"You're not in the way," he said firmly, his eyes meeting mine with an intensity that took my breath away. "You're brave, Dani. I can see it. You just need the right guidance. Let me help you, please. It's the last thing I'd ever want, but if something happened and I wasn't there to protect you... I need to know you can take care of yourself. We have the best people in the world to teach you."

There was a vulnerability in his voice that made my heart ache. I could feel how much he wanted to shield me from every danger, how deeply he cared. And somehow, seeing that made me want to be the person he believed I could be. If he could see that strength in me, maybe it was there after all.

I took a shaky breath, nodding. "Okay. I'll do it. I'll train. For you."

A look of relief washed over his face, and his hand tightened around mine. "Thank you, Dani."

Silence stretched between us, comfortable and warm. The city lights twinkled in the distance, and I felt...safe. It was surreal, considering everything that had happened, but here, with Steve, it felt like the world had faded away.

After a while, he reached across the table, gently brushing a strand of hair behind my ear. His fingers lingered, tracing the line of my jaw. "You're incredible, you know that?"

I felt my cheeks heat up, but I held his gaze, a small smile on my lips. "I think you might be a little biased."

"Maybe," he murmured, leaning closer. "But I know a good thing when I see it."

And just like that, the tension in my chest loosened. In the middle of all this chaos, Steve had a way of grounding me, reminding me of who I was. And for the first time in days, I felt something stir in me—a flicker of hope.

"I always thought our first date would be going out for a dance," he started and I saw him pull out his phone. "And I know this isn't exactly the ambiance we would get from at an actual nice place." He pressed play and I heard a song begin to play, nothing I recognized but I'm sure it must've been a favorite of his. pulled me into a quiet dance, humming softly as we swayed under the lights, just the soft hum of the city and his steady heartbeat against mine. And for a moment, everything felt...right.

After a few quiet moments of swaying in Steve's arms, he pulled back slightly, looking down at me with an affectionate smile. "Come on," he said, still holding my hand as he led me back inside. "There's one more thing we need to go over."

As we walked through the halls of the compound, I could feel the lingering warmth of our rooftop dinner still holding me steady. But all of that faded quickly when we turned a corner and found Tony waiting in the briefing room, several folders spread out on the table in front of him.

"Good evening, lovebirds," he greeted us with a smirk, though his tone turned serious as he gestured for me to sit down. "I figured it was time to walk you through your training schedule."

I blinked, momentarily stunned as I sat down and glanced over the paperwork. Each folder had my name on it, along with a daunting series of words like "Boxing Basics," "Hand-to-Hand Combat," "Knife Techniques," and even "Firearms 101."

Tony adjusted his glasses and tapped the table, pointing to the schedule. "We're putting you on a pretty intensive program, Dani. Boxing and close-combat training with Steve," he started, nodding toward Steve, who gave me an encouraging smile. "Knife and gun training with Barnes. And basic self-defense with Natasha." The weight of his words settled over me like a lead blanket. I tried to take a deep breath, but each name, each skill they wanted me to master, pressed in on me, making my heart race. Fighting with Steve was one thing, but knives? Guns? A whole new wave of doubt crept in. Could I really handle all of this?

Seeing my expression, Tony softened his tone, but he didn't sugarcoat it. "Look, Dani, we're throwing a lot at you. It's going to be hard, probably the hardest thing you've ever done. They'll be bruises and injuries. But we don't do this because we think you're helpless. We do it because there's a fire in you, and we're going to make sure it's ready for anything."

My fingers fidgeted with the edge of the folder, my mind swirling. I could feel Steve's reassuring presence beside me, but it was the look in Tony's eyes that kept me grounded. He wasn't trying to scare me—he was being honest.

Taking a shaky breath, I finally spoke, trying to keep my voice steady. "So...boxing, knives, guns, and self-defense...oh my." I joked trying to lighten the mood despite the anxiety tugging at my stomach.

Tony chuckled, folding his arms across his chest. "Now that's the spirit. I knew there was some fight in you."

I straightened up a little, squaring my shoulders. "Alright, then. I'll do it. I don't know if I'll be any good, but I'll give it everything I've got."

"That's all we ask," Steve said softly, his hand resting on my shoulder with a reassuring squeeze.

Tony gave me one last look, a glint of admiration in his eyes. "Welcome to the team, Dani. Now go get some rest. Training starts tomorrow at sunrise."

With that, he gave me a nod and walked out, leaving Steve and me alone in the quiet room.

I looked down at the folders in front of me, the list of skills I'd need to learn feeling both daunting and exciting. "Guess I better get ready," I said, standing up and glancing back at Steve with a smirk. "And you better be prepared to teach me everything you know."

He grinned, a playful gleam in his eyes. "Oh, I think you'll be a quick learner. Something tells me you're tougher than you look."

I chuckled, but inside, I knew he was right. I'd already lost so much. It was time to gain something back—to take control of my life, no matter how terrifying it might be.

—————

As we settled into bed, Steve reached for the remote, scrolling through the endless list of movies until he found it—the one we'd both somehow always loved, a classic that never seemed to get old. Dirty Dancing.

"You sure you're up for this one?" he teased, glancing over with that gentle smile that made his eyes crinkle just slightly.

I nudged him playfully. "Please, I'm the one who introduced you to this masterpiece."

He chuckled, pressing play as he shifted to get comfortable, one arm sliding under my shoulders. I leaned into him, feeling his warmth, his steady heartbeat a gentle backdrop to the opening credits. It felt safe, easy. Everything else faded away as we sank into each other and into the familiar lines we both knew by heart.

15 minutes in, I felt his hand lazily tracing circles on my arm, grounding me in a way I couldn't quite put into words. The movie played on, but I found myself watching him more, the little details—the way he'd chuckle at the funny parts, the way he'd glance down at me like he was taking a mental picture.

"You're missing the best part," he whispered, noticing me looking at him instead of the screen.

"Maybe," I whispered back, "but I kind of like this view." My words seemed to have an effect on him and he put his head down to kiss me. The sweet kiss soon enough turned into a sensual battle for dominance. He pulled away and I lifting my head not wanting to stop and I saw a smirk on his lips. "Watch the movie Daniela." He said sternly and the way he said my name made me crave him immediately. He moved me so I lay on my side his front pressed against my back. I felt his hand come around me and he slipped it into my shorts.

He ran his fingers below my belly button making me giggle.

"So you're ticklish," he whispered in my ear. I kept my eyes on the TV and nodded.

"And I don't like being tickled," I warned. He stopped and brought his hand up my shirt. My breath hitched when he cupped my boob.

"How do you say boobs in Spanish?" He asked taking me by surprise

"What?" I laughed.

"Tell me." He pressed as he massaged me. "I wanna know."

"Well there's a few ways to say it especially in slang terms. You can say tetas, chichis, the formal way would be senos."

"Hmmmm I love your tetas." He whispers in my ear making me laugh. Captain America just said tetas what is my life. I stopped laughing when I felt his pinch my nipple. He circled it various times with his index finger and a moan escaped my lips. "Did that feel good?" He asked in a low raspy voice. I nodded my head and pushed my back against him I could feel his hard on pressed against my ass.

"You're so soft," he whispered as his hand trailed down my abdomen back into my shorts. "So beautiful." He adds against my neck I feel his fingers against the place I desperately want him to touch. He starts with small circles with the just he right amount of pressure. 

"Mmmm, that feels so good," I said softly. I feel his finger move down to collect my excitement. My mouth hangs open as I watch him bring his fingers to his mouth. His eyes closed as he wrapped his mouth around his fingers. When he opened them I didn't see the light blue eyes I was used to. They were dark--lustful. He leaned down kissing me. I felt him pulling my shorts down with one hand and quickly helped him take them off. 

"I need to feel you," I said as he kissed me. My hands came down to his shorts and I slide them down. He kicked them off and took his shirt off. I looked up at him marveling at how amazing he looked. He hovered over me, but I moved fast and pinned him down on the bed.

"I see the training with Nat went well." He huffed with a proud smile. I kissed his lips and then started making my way down his jaw to his neck enjoying how hard he was breathing. I continued down his chest and defined abs until I made it to his rock hard dick. I grabbed it at the base and teasingly ran my tongue across the tip tasting him. I moaned and moved my hand to stroke him slowly. I put my lips around the tip and continued to stroke him.

"Dani..." he moaned softly. I flicked my tongue against him and his hips bucked up pushing him further into my mouth. "Take more of it," he encouraged and I immediately pushed my head down further. "Good girl." He praised. I bobbed my head up and down using my hands on what I couldn't fit in my mouth. "Your mouth feels so good," he moaned. I removed my mouth and decided I had waited enough. I got up to straddling him. My wet heat against his throbbing member. I moved my hips grinding down on it slowly at first then adding more pressure. I moaned as his tip rubbed my clit just right. His hands came to my hips and he guided me. I looked down at his face seeing his eyes closed and mouth parted open in pleasure. I lifted my hips and reached down to grab his member. I teased it against my entrance a few times hearing him moan when he felt how tight I was. 

I finally lined him up and began easing onto it. I gasped at the feeling and stopped.

"Are you ok?" he asked in a strained voice.

"Yeah, I just need to adjust."

"Ok baby take your time," he encouraged even through I could see how much he wanted more. I sinked down on the rest of it and screwed my eyes shut. He gripped my thighs tightly, his breaths coming out short and shallow. I rocked my a little bit and his grip got tighter.

"You're so tight." He said with his eyes closed. I brought my hands to his chest and circled my hips. I felt his hand come up and grab a fist full of my hair bringing me down to his mouth. I felt his hips move up taking me by surprise. I moaned against his mouth as he did it again and again hitting me in just the right spot. My legs began to shake and that familiar build up was growing. Steve moved suddenly and put me on my back. He hooked his hands behind my knees spreading my legs wide looking down at me hungrily before inserting himself back inside me. The new angle feeling better. I reached up and gripped his biceps. He thrusted him hips so hard the sound of slapping skin was loud over the movie. He reached down between us rubbing me where we met. I moaned at the feeling loving every second of it.

"You like that?" He asks.

"I love it," I reply. He leans in to give me a kiss and brings my left leg up. "You're so deep." I moan louder. 

"I want you to come all over me." He says against my ear. "I want to feel it," he orders and it turns me on even more. I begin to feel the familiar buildup and he doesn't stop. "that's it," he coos moving to kiss my neck. "Tighten up." He hits my g-spot just right over and over again and I feel myself come undone with a string of curse words coming out of my mouth. "Good girl." He says as he continues to thrust into me. A few seconds later I feel him twitch inside of me and the warmth of his release. He buries his face in the crook of my neck and his body falls limp on mine. 

"You did so good," he praised moving to lay next to me. He brought my body close to his and he embraced me for a while. I loved feeling his heartbeat and rapid breathing. 

"That was amazing." I said pressing a kiss to his chest. He grinned, pulling me in closer, pressing a soft kiss to my forehead. We stayed that way, wrapped in each other, letting the movie fill the spaces between us. And for a little while, it was just us—no worries, no danger, just us and the quiet comfort of being together. I closed my eyes and drifted off to sleep.

———-

As I stepped onto the mat, I could feel the intensity radiating from Natasha before we even began. She was already in full Black Widow mode, and while she wasn't saying much, her stance and the steely look in her eyes said everything: this wasn't going to be easy, and that was the whole point.

"Alright, Dani," Natasha said, motioning for me to take up a defensive stance, "I know you're new to this, but you need to be prepared for anything."

I nodded, swallowing my nerves as she squared off with me. "Show me what you got," she added, her voice calm but serious.

I threw a jab as she instructed, and she blocked it effortlessly, her movements fluid and razor-sharp. Then, before I could even react, she countered with a quick flick of her wrist, a maneuver meant to test my reaction speed. I stumbled a bit but managed to pivot out of her reach, finding my footing again.

Nat didn't ease up. For the next several minutes, she tested my limits, pushing me with calculated moves and precise strikes that forced me to stay alert. The more she challenged me, the quicker I adapted. Each correction she gave me—"Keep your guard up," "Move your feet," "Watch your balance"—clicked in my mind. My arms were starting to shake, but I could feel myself catching on.

"Not bad, Dani," she said, a rare smile breaking through her serious demeanor. "Let's try something a little harder."

She feinted left, and instinctively, I dodged, remembering her advice to move my feet. Just as I thought I'd sidestepped her, she took hold of my arm, sweeping her leg under mine and sending me down to the mat. I landed with a grunt, my whole body jolting with impact. But as soon as I hit the floor, I was already thinking about how to avoid it next time.

"Alright," I said, pulling myself up, breathless but grinning. "Bring it on."

Natasha raised an eyebrow, clearly approving of my persistence. "Good," she replied, a hint of respect in her voice. "Let's keep going."

With each round, I could feel myself growing more confident, more resilient. Natasha's encouragement was subtle—a nod, a slight smile—but it fueled me, and I found myself wanting to push harder, prove myself worthy.

As the session ended, I stood on shaky legs, drenched in sweat but exhilarated. Natasha walked over and placed a hand on my shoulder. "You did well today, Dani," she said softly. "Keep this up, and you'll surprise even yourself."

As exhausted as I was, her words made me feel powerful. It was the first time I thought maybe—just maybe—I could handle this.

As I wiped the sweat from my forehead after the intense session with Natasha, I noticed Bucky leaning against the doorframe, watching me with a smirk that was both playful and... something else. His eyes held that confident gleam, the kind that spoke of someone who knew exactly how to get under my skin.

"Look at you, taking on the Widow herself and still standing," he drawled as he sauntered over. "Color me impressed, darling."

"Darling?" I echoed, raising an eyebrow, but couldn't hide the slight smile tugging at my lips. "Isn't that a bit old-fashioned, Barnes?"

He chuckled, shrugging one shoulder as he came to stand right in front of me. "Call it a classic." His eyes flickered down to my hands as I flexed them. "Besides, suits you. Though after seeing you hold your own out there, maybe I should call you a doll instead."

"Doll?" I shot back, crossing my arms and trying to look unimpressed.

He laughed, low and smooth. "GI Jane." I rolled my eyes at his stupid joke and watched as he reached into his jacket, he pulled out a knife, and not just any knife—this one had a worn leather handle, clearly used but well cared for. He held it out to me, the metal catching the light. "Figured I'd loan you one of my favorites. If you're serious about learning, that is."

I took the knife, turning it over in my hands, feeling the weight of it, the texture of the leather. "You're trusting me with one of your prized possessions already?" I teased, glancing up at him. "I thought that came after the divorce?"

Bucky's smirk softened into something warmer, his gaze steady. "Relax, just don't go putting any nicks in it, alright? Or do I need to start you off with the dummy version?"

I scoffed, rolling my eyes as I tried to ignore the way his closeness made my pulse quicken. "Oh please. You think I can't handle the real thing?"

He raised an eyebrow, leaning in a little. "you talk big for someone who's still figuring out her stance."

My eyes narrowed, refusing to back down. "Keep pushing me, Barnes, and maybe I'll show you just how 'big' I can talk with this knife."

His grin widened, his voice dropping a little as he said, "Now that's what I like to hear."

I tried to ignore the warmth flooding my cheeks and pointedly turned toward the practice dummy. "Alright, since you're so eager to be impressed, let's get started. Where do I aim?"

He stepped up behind me, his presence solid and warm. Reaching over, he adjusted my grip on the knife, his hand lingering on mine longer than necessary. "Right there." His voice was low, almost a murmur in my ear. "Now, aim for the chest—straight in, twist, pull back."

I took a steadying breath, focused, and made my move. The knife hit the target close to where he'd indicated, though not perfect. I glanced over at him, expecting that cocky smirk, but his expression was surprisingly... approving.

"Not bad for your first try," he said, crossing his arms. "But let's see if you can do it again without flinching.

"Oh, I can do this all day," I shot back, echoing a line I'd heard Steve say a hundred times.

Bucky raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. "Alright, then. Show me what you got, doll."

With that, we settled into a rhythm. He'd demonstrate a move, then step back and let me try. Every now and then, he'd throw out a teasing comment, like, "You call that a grip?" or "Don't go getting soft on me, now." And every single time, I'd fire something right back, refusing to let him get the last word.

As we were wrapping up, I felt the burn in my muscles, but the satisfaction of actually getting the hang of something for once. Bucky was leaning against the wall, watching me with that same smirk as he tossed the dummy knife up and down in his hand.

"Alright, doll," he said, nodding toward the target I'd just hit dead center. "I gotta admit, you've got a little fight in you. Who knew?"

I snorted, trying to act unfazed. "Maybe you're just easy to impress."

He chuckled, shaking his head. "Keep thinking that, sweetheart." His voice softened, almost serious. "But if you keep this up, you might actually give me a run for my money someday."

"Someday?" I repeated, feeling a bit bold as I held his gaze. "I think I'm doing a pretty good job of it right now."

His smirk faded just slightly, his eyes flickering down to my lips before he straightened up and slipped the knife back into his jacket. "Guess we'll just have to find out, won't we?" His voice was low, almost a murmur, but his eyes held that spark of challenge I was starting to get used to. "Same time tomorrow, sweetheart. Try not to let me down."

With one last wink, he turned and strolled out, leaving me there, heart pounding and completely thrown off balance.

After Bucky left, I stood alone in the quiet training room, the steady hum of my heartbeat the only sound. The sharp scent of metal and sweat lingered in the air, and I closed my eyes, still feeling the weight of his hand as he'd corrected my grip, his voice low in my ear, calling me "doll" like it was some kind of secret nickname just for us.

The practice knife felt solid in my palm, a grounding reminder of everything that had changed so quickly. Only a few weeks ago, I was just Dani—head baker, daughter, occasional optimist. Now, here I was, training to fight, to survive, to actually defend myself.

My mind drifted back to Bucky's parting words, his steady gaze, the way his voice dropped just a bit when he called me "sweetheart." It was disarming—dangerous even—but I pushed it aside. I had to focus. Steve's face flashed in my mind, his reassuring smile, his unwavering presence. This wasn't about anyone else, not even Bucky. This was about proving to myself that I could handle this new life, that I was capable, and that no one would ever catch me unprepared again.

I walked to the far side of the room, switching off the lights, but I stopped before leaving. Catching a glimpse of myself in the mirrored wall, I saw the way I was standing just a little taller, the faintest trace of a bruises from Natasha's earlier training already beginning to show.

Despite everything, a small, unexpected smile tugged at my lips. Maybe I was tougher than I'd thought. And maybe, just maybe, I was ready to face whatever came next.

With one last glance at the darkened training room, I walked out, determined to keep my focus—and my heart—in check.

[mcu-binge]

Chris Evans as Steve Rogers Captain America: The Winter Soldier

[mcu-binge]

Love in Brooklyn pt 15

As we headed back inside, Rocket swaggering in with me, I glanced around at the others. Steve had joined the Guardians in a more intense discussion by the windows, arms crossed and brow furrowed. But as I looked around the room, I noticed someone was missing."Where's Bucky?" I asked, curious since he'd been one of the first people on alert to get me here.

Steve caught my eye, his face a mixture of concern and mild confusion. "Actually... we're not sure."Rocket perked up. "You mean the metal-armed guy's gone rogue?""Rogue is a strong word," Tony interjected, but he looked worried. "He left early this morning. Said he needed to check something out. But... he left without telling anyone where."Quill raised an eyebrow, leaning in with a smirk. "Secret mission? Maybe he's got a thing for mystery."Steve shook his head, looking serious. "He wouldn't just disappear without a reason.

Just then, a small device on Tony's wrist beeped sharply. He tapped it, bringing up a holographic screen. "Well, there's something," he muttered, squinting at the data. "I set a tracker on him. Looks like he's... on the outskirts of town, in some rundown warehouse district."

"Alone?" Gamora asked, her expression immediately shifting to one of concern."Seems like it," Tony replied.Steve's jaw clenched. "That's not like him. If he's after Masque... he could be walking right into her trap."

A sense of dread started to pool in my stomach as I realized what this meant. Bucky—who'd been with Steve for longer than anyone here—was out there, alone, and we had no idea what he was walking into. I hadn't known Bucky long, but the brief time we'd spent together made it clear he was the one person Steve trusted more than anyone else in the world. And that thought alone made my chest tighten.

"I'm going after him," Steve announced, standing up. The authority in his voice made it clear there would be no argument. "He'd do the same for me."

Rocket rolled his eyes but didn't hesitate to move to Steve's side. "Well, you're not going alone. Plus, I'm dying to blow something up."

"I'm in," Gamora said, drawing her sword. She looked at Steve with a nod. "We'll bring him back."

Tony grinned, but there was a seriousness to it. "I'll stay here with Dani and monitor things. You guys get him back safe."I caught Steve's eye as he got ready to go, and for a split second, I could see the worry in his gaze, even through the steely determination.

"You'll bring him back?" I asked quietly, and I could tell he picked up on the nerves in my voice.

He gave a small, reassuring smile. "I will. Stay with Tony. And don't worry—Rocket's got my back."

Rocket gave me a quick wink. "And I'll make sure Capsicle here doesn't do anything stupid." Steve squeezed my hand one last time, then headed out with Rocket and Gamora by his side. The rest of us watched them go, a sense of heaviness settling over the room as the door clicked shut behind them.

The silence in the tower hung thick, stretching painfully as Tony and I waited. Every tick of the clock seemed louder than the last, a constant reminder that we hadn't heard a single word from Steve, Bucky, or the others. I caught myself glancing at the door, hoping for a message, a knock—anything to break the stillness.

Tony must've noticed, because he suddenly cleared his throat and walked over to where I was sitting. "Alright, kid," he said, setting a hand on the back of a chair across from me. "You're probably starving by now. How about some lunch?"

I blinked, barely processing his words. "Lunch?"

"Yeah. You know—food? The thing that keeps you from fainting while we wait around hoping our reckless friends are okay?" He flashed a quick smile, but I could tell he was just as tense. He was trying to distract me—and probably himself, too.

"Right." I forced a small smile, appreciating the effort. "Lunch sounds good."

Tony led me to the kitchen, where he began rummaging around the cabinets, muttering about how they never had the "right kind of bread" when he wanted to make sandwiches. I sat at the island, watching him with a mix of gratitude and nerves.

"Can I help?" I offered, trying to keep my voice steady.

"Please, I've got this." Tony waved me off with a smirk. "I may not be a five-star chef, but I know my way around a sandwich."

He pulled out various ingredients, quickly assembling a couple of impressive sandwiches—layers of turkey, avocado, lettuce, tomato, and just the right amount of mustard. He slid one over to me with a dramatic flourish. "There you go. Gourmet, Stark-style."

I laughed, actually grateful for the normalcy of it all. "You know, for someone who could probably have any meal in the world delivered, you're pretty good at the basics."

"Flattery will get you everywhere," he quipped, taking a bite of his sandwich. "So... tell me about the bakery. How's it been since catering our event? Is it everything you dreamed of?"

The question caught me off guard, but I appreciated the opportunity to focus on something other than the twisting worry in my gut. I took a bite, savoring the flavors, and leaned back a little, trying to let myself relax."It's... everything," I replied, smiling softly. "I mean, don't get me wrong, it's a lot of work. Early mornings, long days... your event really took us to another level. We had magazine covers and articles about us. I love it it's given me the confidence in myself to venture out and try new recipes. Then there's my dad breathing down my neck every other day."

Tony snorted, taking a sip of his drink. "I can relate. My old man wasn't exactly the 'supportive' type either. I think he'd have a heart attack if he saw the way I run things now."

I chuckled, nodding. "Right? My dad's always been hard to please. I keep thinking that if I could just make the bakery perfect, he'd finally be... proud, I guess. But it's like I'm always one step behind what he wants."Tony's gaze softened a little. "Sounds like you're doing a hell of a job, even if he doesn't say it."

A small, grateful smile tugged at my lips. "Thanks, Tony. I mean, I try. And it means a lot hearing it from someone like you."

"Trust me," he said with a lopsided grin, "if anyone knows how hard it is to get parental approval, it's me." He paused, looking thoughtful. "But hey, that bakery is all yours. Don't let anyone—including your old man—take away from what you've built." I nodded, trying to let his words sink in, though a lingering worry still gnawed at me.

We chatted through lunch, Tony effortlessly keeping the conversation light, asking me about everything from my favorite recipes to the strangest orders I'd ever received. It worked—at least for a little while. But as the hours ticked by with no word, that sense of dread started to creep back in.

Afternoon turned to evening, and Tony, sensing my growing anxiety, suggested dinner. This time, he ordered in—"even a billionaire's sandwich-making skills have limits," he said with a grin. I barely tasted the food, my mind drifting back to Steve and the others.

"Is it normal for them to be gone this long?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady as I set down my fork.

Tony hesitated, his gaze flicking to the clock. "Depends on the mission," he said, keeping his tone casual. "Sometimes things get complicated. And with Masque involved... well, let's just say she's not known for her straightforwardness."

I shivered a little, remembering the hushed conversations I'd overheard about her. "She sounds... ruthless."

Tony shrugged, his expression darkening slightly. "And cunning. The worst kind of combination. But hey," he added, offering me a reassuring smile, "our team can handle her. They've been through worse."

I nodded, trying to take comfort in his words. But as the evening wore on and the minutes felt like hours, my nerves began to fray. Every creak, every hum of machinery in the tower made me tense, half-expecting something awful.

Tony must've noticed, because he set down his glass and looked at me, his expression more serious now. "You know, they're going to be okay, Dani. Steve's one of the best. And Bucky—well, he's too stubborn to go down without a fight."

I managed a shaky laugh. "I know. I just... I can't help but worry. This whole world—it's so new to me. And the fact that they're out there risking their lives... it's terrifying."

Tony leaned forward, his gaze intent. "Dani, I've been doing this for a long time, and I'll tell you something: the Avengers don't lose. Not when it matters. And if Steve's involved, you can bet your last cupcake that he's coming back to you."

I swallowed, feeling the sting of emotion in my throat. "Thanks, Tony. Really."

"Hey," he said, leaning back with a smirk, "what are friends for?"

Just then, the sound of an alarm echoed through the tower, loud and jarring, making me jump. Tony's expression shifted immediately, his focus snapping to the control panel."It's them," he said, relief flickering across his face as he checked the display.

When Tony and I reached the landing bay, I froze. Steve, Gamora, and Rocket were finally back, but they looked like they'd been through hell. Steve's lip was split, his face smeared with dirt, while Gamora had a large gash on her forearm. Rocket's fur was singed in patches, and he was grumbling about "never signing up to be a punching bag."

Steve's gaze found me first, and even through his bruises, a relieved smile spread across his face. He crossed the room in a few strides and wrapped his arms around me, pulling me close.

"Hey," he murmured, his voice warm, grounding me. "We're alright."

"You sure?" I asked, brushing a finger over a streak of dirt on his cheek, trying to convince myself they were really okay.

"Yeah, mostly scrapes and bruises," he assured me, squeezing my shoulder. "Nothing serious."

Tony raised an eyebrow at Rocket's disheveled state. "You look like you took a bath in a bonfire, Rocket."

Rocket huffed, crossing his arms. "Yeah, well, no one warned me that Masque's goons packed flamethrowers! Real nice intel, Stark."

Tony held up his hands in mock surrender. "Hey, you signed up for this."

Gamora rolled her eyes. "Can we skip the bickering and get to the point? We found out some intel on Masque's next steps."

They debriefed us about the mission, how they'd discovered pieces of Masque's plan. Rocket shifted on his feet, his eyes darting over to Bucky, who'd been quietly listening.

When Steve mentioned Masque had been tracking me since our first day at the farmer's market, Rocket and Gamora exchanged a knowing glance.

Once they wrapped up, Rocket pulled me aside with Gamora, taking me down a quiet hallway."Look, kid," Rocket began, his voice a touch softer than usual, "you should know something. It wasn't Steve who put you on the radar it was Bucky."

My eyes widened. "Bucky? Why would he...?"

Gamora stepped forward, her expression unreadable. "He's been keeping tabs on you whenever Steve's away. This isn't something Steve's even aware of. Our guess is Masque was tracking him and saw you as a way to get with him."

"That doesn't make any sense. Bucky only came to the bakery once and my loft once," I thought out loud. My heart thudded in my chest. Why would think they could get to Bucky through me? Sure, we'd had friendly moments, but nothing that would explain this level of concern.

"Well it must've been more than that." Gamora shrugged.

Rocket crossed his arms. "We thought you'd wanna know. Do with it what you want, but the guy clearly gives a damn."

When they left, I stayed there, my mind racing. I needed to talk to Bucky.

I wondered the halls and bumped into Steve.

"Dani we need to go to your apartment and get you some clothes Tony is taking us to Avengers campus upstate where we can train and get a game plan together." He said as he messed with his cell phone.

"Okay," I quipped and followed him.

We ended up outside and I saw the hatch of a quinjet opened with Bucky and Rocket looking every bit heroic they probably felt.

I got in and Steve helped strap me in for the take off before he went and got in the pilot seat.

"No no no get out," Rocket said standing in front of him. "I'm driving this ship."

"Rocket I can fly." Steve protested.

"No cause if you kill us I'm gonna be pissed." Rocket argued making me laugh but I brought my hand up to cover my mouth not wanting Steve to hear me.

"Just sit down dude," Bucky said.

"Nuh uh, get out cap," Rocket was firm. Steve eventually got up and let him drive. "Ok now where am I going," he asked as he pulled off of the roof. Steve brought his fingers to the bridge of his nose in annoyance and I finally let my laugh out. I stood and directed Rocket to my apartment.

The moment we stepped into my apartment, I knew something was wrong. Papers were strewn across the floor, shelves had been overturned, and my belongings were scattered like someone had gone through them in a hurry. My heart sank.

"You live like this?" Rocket asked clearly judging me.

"She doesn't," Steve and Bucky said in unison. Steve turned to look at Bucky suspiciously for a second. I never told him about how he dropped in on me while he was away. A gust of wind came in through the open window catching their attention.

Steve's jaw tightened, his hand instinctively going to his shield. Rocket cursed under his breath, his eyes darting around the room, ever the lookout.

"Get what you need, quickly," Steve said, his voice low and urgent. He and Rocket fanned out, keeping a close watch on the windows and doors while Bucky moved beside me, giving me a reassuring nod. I forced myself to snap out of it, heading to my bedroom closet and throwing clothes into a bag.

But before I could zip it up, there was a loud crash—a glint of metal flying toward the window.

"Grenade!" Rocket shouted, but Steve was already in action. He dove forward, hurling his shield over the explosive just in time. The impact shook the room, the shield absorbing most of the blast, but the shockwave knocked me back, my ears ringing as dust and debris filled the air.

"Bucky, get her out of here!" Steve bellowed, rising to his feet as another round of explosions sounded from outside the building.

Bucky didn't waste a second. He pulled me up, his grip like iron as he practically dragged me toward the back exit. "Come on, Dani, we've got to move!"

"Wait," I yelled. I fought back against him running to grab my recipe book from my coffee table.

"Now," he yelled pulling me along again.

We sprinted down the narrow hallway, but the pounding of footsteps and the muffled sound of gunfire made it clear we weren't alone. I glanced over my shoulder and saw dark figures streaming into the building. Steve and Rocket were already fighting them off, but a few men broke away, their sights set on us.

"Keep going!" Bucky shouted as he whipped around, metal arm raised, firing off a few rounds to keep them at bay. One of the men lunged at him, and Bucky took him down with a brutal elbow to the jaw. But as more of them charged, I could see him getting overwhelmed. Two of them came at him taking turns punching his face before he finally took them down. As he gets up I see him spit out blood and my stomach churns.

"Bucky!" I shouted, skidding to a stop despite the panic clawing at my chest. Another thug was behind him, knife raised, and Bucky's focus was on the two he was grappling with in front of him. Without thinking, I picked up a fallen metal pipe from the wreckage in the hallway and charged at the attacker, swinging it as hard as I could.

The pipe made solid contact with the side of the guy's head, and he crumpled to the ground. Bucky shot me a quick, approving grin—just before a blast erupted from a few feet away, sending us both stumbling.

"They're coming in from the stairs!" I yelled, feeling the panic rise. We had to get out, but every exit seemed blocked.

Bucky grabbed my hand, pulling me through a side corridor. "We're almost there. Stay close!" he growled, moving with a fierce determination that I couldn't help but admire. We burst out onto the emergency stairwell, but two more henchmen blocked our path.

I didn't think, I just acted—channeling all the fear, anger, and adrenaline in me. As the first guy lunged at me, I ducked, bringing my elbow down hard against his ribs and following up with a kick to his knee, dropping him. The other one came at Bucky, but before he could shoot, Bucky disarmed him with a swift twist of his metal arm, sending the guy's weapon clattering down the stairs.

"Not bad, Dani," Bucky muttered with a glint of admiration.

"Thanks," I replied breathlessly, just as a flash of movement behind him caught my eye. Without hesitation, I lunged forward, grabbing Bucky by the front of his jacket and pulling him back just as a bullet grazed past where he'd been standing. The sudden force catching him off guard and we fell to the ground. The narrow escape left both of us breathless. I reached for the knife he had stashed away in his pocket throwing it as hard as I could to the man with a gun. It stuck right in his neck sending him tumbling back.

"Good throw," Bucky praised. He got up pulling me along with him.

Another explosion from somewhere below shook the building, and the stairwell began to fill with smoke. The two of us took off up the remaining flights, my lungs burning as we raced through the haze and toward the rooftop.

When we finally emerged into the open air, I took a deep breath, the fresh air feeling like a small victory. But there was no time to celebrate; another team of men was waiting for us.

Bucky shot me a quick look, his blue eyes sharp and determined. "Stay behind me," he ordered, stepping in front of me as he raised his gun.

I took a step back, feeling a wave of helplessness rise. Then I remembered the metal pipe still clenched in my hand. "I'm not going anywhere," I muttered, squaring my shoulders.

The men charged, and Bucky moved like a force of nature, blocking and striking with precision. But when one of them broke through his defenses and lunged at me, I met him with a solid hit to the side, using the pipe to drive him back.

Just as I swung, a hand grabbed me and pulled me out of harm's way. I looked up to see Rocket, smirking as he and Steve finally caught up with us.

"Nice swing, kid," he muttered, then nodded toward the Quinjet parked on the far side of the rooftop. "But let's get out of here before you run out of luck."

Bucky covered us as we sprinted toward the jet, Steve leading the way with his shield raised to deflect incoming fire. I stumbled once, my legs shaking from the adrenaline and fatigue, but Bucky's arm was around me in an instant, helping me up and practically carrying me onto the jet.

The Quinjet rumbled beneath us as we left the chaos behind, its engines humming steadily. I sat beside Steve, his arm warm and steady around my shoulders, his reassuring presence the only thing holding me together as I stared out the window, watching my apartment building shrink until it disappeared in the smoky skyline of the city.

"Dani," Steve said, his voice breaking through my daze. "You did incredible back there. You had the instincts, the moves... I knew you had it in you."

I managed a polite smile, nodding along, but the words barely reached me. I was trying so hard to hold myself together, to push down the raw ache that was spreading through my chest. That place... my place... was gone. Every familiar corner, every piece of furniture I'd carefully chosen, every bit of home I'd carved out for myself, was now reduced to rubble and ashes.

"You were fierce," Bucky chimed in, nodding in admiration. "For someone who's new to this, you didn't hesitate to jump in."

"Yeah, not bad for a rookie," Rocket added from the cockpit. He smirked at me in the reflection of the windshield, his tone rough but somehow encouraging. "Not everyone takes down a guy twice their size with a metal pipe on their first run."

"Thanks, guys," I replied, forcing myself to keep my voice steady. The last thing I wanted was to let my emotions spill over in front of everyone. I was determined to look like I could handle this, even though a part of me was desperately clinging to the remnants of normalcy I'd just lost.

Steve gave my shoulder a squeeze, still talking about how quick I was, how I'd known exactly when to act. His pride in me was obvious, and the warmth in his gaze made me feel safe, at least for a moment. But inside, I was unraveling. All I could see was the smoke and debris, the torn-apart pieces of a life that had been mine. My apartment wasn't just a space; it was everything familiar in a world that had suddenly grown terrifying and unpredictable. And now, it was gone. I hugged my arms around myself, struggling to hold back the tears that burned behind my eyes.

As we finally touched down at the Avengers Compound, the silence between Steve and me felt heavy. He walked beside me as we made our way inside, protective as always, his gaze flickering between me and everything around us as if waiting for the next threat to emerge.

But all I wanted, for the first time since this entire whirlwind began, was a little space.

"Steve," I murmured, stopping in the hall. I shifted uncomfortably, hugging the small bundle of things I'd managed to salvage close to my chest. "I... I think I need a moment alone."

He looked at me, a mix of worry and hesitation clouding his expression. "Are you sure, Dani? After everything that happened tonight... I just want to make sure you're okay. If you need to talk we can talk."

"I will be. Just... please," I whispered, trying to keep my voice steady.

“We can go out for walk.” He suggested and although I understand his need to want to be with me. I just wanted a minute to myself.

"Maybe later Steve. I just need a few minutes." I said softly.

Reluctantly, he nodded, his jaw tightening as he gave my hand a gentle squeeze before stepping back. "Alright. But I'm not going far," he said, as if it pained him to even let me walk off on my own.

As I slipped outside into the cool night air, I let out a breath I had been holding. The moonlight bathed the compound grounds in a silvery glow, and I wandered until I found myself near the lake, the water shimmering under the stars.

I stood there, alone, holding the one thing I'd clutched through the chaos of the night: my recipe book. Its pages were creased, some edges torn from the frantic scene it had been part of, but it was here, with me. It was one of the last pieces of my home.

And as I looked down at it, my shoulders began to shake. The weight of everything I'd been holding back finally pressed down, breaking through every wall I'd tried to keep up. A sob escaped, raw and unrestrained, and then another. I sank down by the lake, clutching the book to my chest as I wept. I cried for the life I'd left behind, for the pieces of my world now lying in ruins, for the dream of normalcy that felt further away than ever.

The pain of it all washed over me in waves. It wasn't just the fear, but the loneliness that clawed at my chest. I cried for the things I'd never even realized I'd wanted—a life filled with peace, a future that wasn't constantly under threat. And now... what was left of that?

In the midst of my quiet breakdown, I felt a warm, steady presence nearby. I looked up, startled, to find Bucky standing there, his face softened in a way I hadn't seen before. He didn't say a word, just watched me for a moment with those knowing, gentle eyes.

Without a word, he crouched down beside me and pulled me into a hug. Strong arms wrapped around me, grounding me, and I melted against him, my sobs muffled into his chest. He didn't shush me, didn't ask me to explain myself or tell me it would all be okay. He simply held me, letting me be as broken and vulnerable as I needed to be.

In that embrace, I felt a warmth and a quiet understanding that went deeper than words. His hand rubbed slow, comforting circles on my back, and my fingers clung to his shirt as if it were the only solid thing in a world spinning out of control.

After what felt like an eternity, I pulled back, wiping my tear-streaked face with a shaky hand. "I'm sorry," I whispered, my voice hoarse. "I didn't mean to... fall apart like this."

Bucky shook his head, his voice low and gentle. "Don't be. You've lost a lot, Dani. No one expects you to keep it all together." His gaze softened, a glimmer of understanding in those stormy blue eyes. "Sometimes, falling apart is the only way to find our footing again."

I nodded, clutching the recipe book tighter. "It's just... it was my home. My life. And now..." My voice broke, but his presence kept me steady, kept me breathing.

Bucky looked at the book in my hands, his brow furrowing slightly. "What's that?" he asked quietly.

"What we almost died getting," I admit.

"What?" He asked

"It's my recipe book," I said, a faint smile tugging at the corners of my mouth, despite the tears. "It's... it's silly, really. Just something I kept from all the places I worked, recipes I made up in school, things I wanted to remember. It's all I have left now."

"It's not silly," he murmured, his tone earnest. "It's a part of you. That's something worth holding on to. I would’ve given up another arm for you to get that book for you." He gave my shoulder a gentle squeeze, and I realized how grateful I was for his presence, for the way he'd come out here, not to fix things or make promises, but to simply be here.

As we sat there under the moonlight, I felt the weight of my grief begin to ease, just a little.

[mcu-binge]

I want to write a beautiful Captain America fanfic and then I see these gifs

And I’m wondering if Dani like me would risk it all🥴😫😫😫

Taking suggestions

[mcu-binge]

Love in Brooklyn pt 14

Steve's expression changed in an instant, and I watched as he went on high alert. He rushed to put on his boxers and a shirt. The knock came again, louder and faster this time.

"Stay here," he whispered, but I was already pushing up from the bed reaching for a robe I had left nearby, curiosity and concern wrestling in my chest.

I heard a loud bang and my front door open harshly. Before Steve got to the bedroom door it was pushed open and Bucky strode in, his face set in a serious expression.

"We don't have time for questions," Bucky said briskly, his voice low and urgent. "You have been compromised. Let's go. Now." He said pointing at me.

"What?" I stammered. "Compromised? What are you talking about?"

Bucky didn't waste time explaining. Instead, he threw a quick, sharp glance at Steve, who immediately swung around, scooped me up in his arms, and before I could even think to protest, we were out of my apartment and heading down the hall.

The next moments were a blur. My broken toe throbbed as we moved, but Steve held me tightly, his eyes focused, jaw clenched. Bucky led the way, keeping us moving quickly through the empty hallways. By the time we reached the car waiting out front, I was breathless, both from the speed and the shock. Steve didn't set me down until we were safely tucked inside and speeding off.

When we arrived at Avengers Tower, Steve and Bucky led me through a maze of corridors. My robe, which had seemed so casual in my own apartment, felt wildly out of place in the heart of Avengers HQ. I held the fabric tighter around myself, cheeks warming as I passed various Avengers who glanced curiously in our direction.

Steve still had me in his arms, and I realized with horror that I was here—well, being held here—in a robe, nothing else. My cheeks flushed with embarrassment, and my heart pounded as a few curious eyes darted our way.

Steve set me down gently on a couch, propping my foot up as he ran a hand over my shoulder. "Stay put," he murmured. "We're just going to talk about some... precautionary steps."

I nodded, feeling a bit dizzy from all of this, from the look in his eyes and the sharp, sterile gleam of the Tower around me. I tried to calm myself, but when Tony entered, a worried look on his face, my heart began to pound all over again.

Tony leaned in, his voice stern. "Look, she's a civilian. She's not trained for this, Steve. The safest thing is a witness protection program, at least until we figure out how to handle the situation."

Steve's response was immediate, almost fierce. "No. Witness protection isn't an option. Dani stays with us. Here, where I can protect her."

"We need to consider witness protection," Tony started bluntly, turning his gaze to me with a concerned but serious expression. "She shouldn't be in the crosshairs. A location only we know about, secure enough to buy time until we get Masque out of the picture."

Witness protection? The words echoed in my mind, and the sheer weight of what was happening began to hit me. I felt like I was spiraling, the world around me becoming foreign and cold. But Steve's hand slipped into mine, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

"No," he said, looking at Tony with a calm defiance. "She stays with us. If Masque's after her, she's better off here than off somewhere alone."

Tony sighed, clearly prepared for this. "Steve, this is Madame Masque. She's relentless, and we know she has ways to track people. If she's dead set on Dani, we can't assume she'll give up just because Dani's in the Tower. It might just make things worse."

Steve's grip on my hand tightened, and he glanced down at me. "I won't let her out of my sight," he said, voice firm. "She'll be safe here, with the team. No witness protection"

I listened, heart racing, as they went back and forth, talking about me like I was a delicate piece on a chessboard. In a game I didn't even know how to play. It felt like the air was closing in on me, and I could barely keep up with everything they were saying. I tried to process it all—Madame Masque, surveillance, witness protection. Each word added a fresh wave of confusion and fear.

"I don't understand," I finally stammered, and they both looked over at me. "Why... why am I being targeted?"

Tony's expression softened. "She happened to catch you and Steve somewhere. That's enough for someone like her. She doesn't care about collateral damage—she cares about hurting us, especially him. She hates him the most. Isn't really into the whole morals thing he likes," he tries to joke—I think.

A shiver ran down my spine. I glanced at Steve, seeing the protectiveness in his eyes, but also the hint of worry.

"So... what does this mean for me?" I asked, voice shaky. "I can't go back home, can I?"

Steve squeezed my hand. "Not right now," he admitted, his tone gentle. "But you'll be safe here. I'll make sure of it."

"But... my life?" I asked, almost pleading. "My bakery, my apartment—am I just supposed to give it all up? And for how long. I have a life I have to keep. People depend on me too."

Steve's face softened as he reached out, tucking a stray strand of hair behind my ear. "We'll figure it out," he promised, his voice filled with certainty. "We'll take it one day at a time, okay?"

I nodded, trying to absorb everything, but it was still overwhelming. The very life I'd known felt like it was slipping out of my grasp, being replaced by something terrifying and unpredictable.

Tony cleared his throat, giving us a respectful distance as he turned back toward the door. "I'll call in the rest of the team for a debrief. We're lucky Manchurian Candidate here spotted a trend and stepped in when he did." He says patting Bucky's shoulder. With that, he disappeared, leaving Steve, Bucky and me alone again. Steve wrapped an arm around me, pulling me close as I tried to calm my racing thoughts. Bucky watched and left soon after.

"I know it's a lot," he murmured softly, brushing a kiss to the top of my head. "But I'm here. We're together and I will keep you safe." I hold onto him tightly trying to convince myself that everything will be ok but I'm way out of my depth here. Steve excuses himself and I hobble over to a quiet area. I grabbed a blanket and sat down.

Natasha and Wanda found me, sitting stiffly with my robe bunched around my knees. I'd wrapped myself in one of Stark's plush blanket, but I still felt bare and ridiculously out of place. There I was, suddenly smack-dab in the middle of a world I never wanted or understood, while Steve and the team huddled in some high-tech conference room discussing my fate.

Wanda's soft voice broke through my spiraling thoughts. "Dani, mind if we join you?" I looked up, nodding, as they both sat beside me on the couch. Natasha rested her elbows on her knees, leaning forward with that calm, intense gaze she had. Wanda's expression was gentler, almost motherly.

"Soooo... this is... a lot," Natasha began, a faint smirk tugging at her lips. "Not the usual introduction to our line of work." I laughed nervously, biting my lip as I glanced down.

"That's the understatement of the year. First, Bucky drops in, then Steve basically sweeps me out of my place like I'm some kind of damsel in distress."

"Not quite the fairytale evening you had in mind, huh?" Wanda teased, her eyes crinkling.

"Not exactly," I admitted, squeezing my good foot with one hand. "And, well, it doesn't help that I've got a broken toe. Probably the least intimidating injury in the room." Natasha raised her brows in surprise before letting out a rare, genuine chuckle.

"A broken toe, huh? That's one for the books." "I had an accident at the gym," I said, wincing as I mimicked dropping a dumbbell. "And now I'm here, a bit of a mess, not exactly battle-ready." They both laughed, and Natasha leaned back, crossing her arms with a small smile. "Well, I think you're handling it better than most people would."

"Honestly, Dani," Wanda added softly, "we're here to make sure you're safe, and that means showing you the ropes if you're interested. We can teach you to protect yourself, make sure you feel as comfortable as possible while you're here."

Her words settled like a warm blanket around my shoulders, easing some of the tension coiled up inside me. I let out a deep breath. "You're serious? You think I could actually learn to... handle myself, somehow?"

Natasha gave me a firm nod. "Oh, absolutely. With that kind of wit? You'd be a natural." "Not to mention, with Steve around, you've already got a pretty solid tutor," Wanda teased.I felt the heat rise to my cheeks, and I quickly glanced away, only to notice Natasha's smirk growing. "Oh, please, like it isn't obvious," she remarked, giving me a knowing look. "The man can barely take his eyes off you. And came in hold you in a robe" I rolled my eyes, though I couldn't hide my smile.

"Well, he's stubborn, that's for sure." Wanda handed me a bag I peaked inside and saw clothes. "Here. Figured you'd like something a little more... practical than that robe." Taking the clothes gratefully, I relaxed, laughing at the absurdity of it all. "Thank you, both of you. I thought I'd be alone in all this, and... I was scared. Still am, honestly." Natasha placed a reassuring hand on my shoulder. "Stick with us, Dani. You'll be ok you're not alone."

Sitting on the edge of Steve's bed, I dialed Rosa's number, twisting a loose thread of my robe around my finger. My heart ached, the bakery feeling suddenly so far away. "Dani?" Rosa answered, her voice warm and familiar. "What's wrong mija? You never call at this hour." I hesitated, glancing at the closed door. "Rosa, I... I'm not going to be around for a while. Something's come up—something... unexpected. I need you to hold things down at the bakery." A pause followed, and I could imagine her furrowed brow as she tried to make sense of my tone. "Dani, are you okay? You sound... serious." "I'm okay," I replied, hoping my voice sounded steadier than I felt. "I just need to take care of something. It's hard to explain, but I trust you to keep everything in order. I'll check in when I can." She seemed to sense my unease but decided not to press. "You know I've got it. Just take care of yourself, okay?"

"I will, you take care too Rosa." I hung up, a lump in my throat, and the quiet weight of Steve's room settled over me.

For the first time in hours, I let myself breathe, easing back against the soft mattress. The walls around me were covered in little traces of him, from his stack of vintage records to his sketchbook on the bedside table. A familiar, comforting scent lingered in the air.

A soft knock at the door broke through my thoughts, and I looked up just as Steve entered, carrying the bag of clothes Wanda had given me. He was smiling, though his expression softened when he saw me curled up on the bed. "How'd the call go?" he asked gently, setting the bag down and taking a seat beside me. "Rosa's got everything covered, but I hate leaving the bakery like this," I admitted, rubbing my hand over my face. "It's just... it feels like my life is being flipped upside down." Steve nodded, his hand resting on my shoulder, grounding me. "You're handling all this pretty well, you know. A lot better than I expected, anyway." I gave a small, tired smile, sinking into his touch. "Was that supposed to be a compliment?" "Sorry." He grinned, and for a moment, the chaos melted away, replaced by the warmth of his hand brushing lightly down my arm. "Here," he said softly, opening the bag Wanda had left, "let's get you out of that robe and into something more comfortable." I felt my face flush as he carefully lifted a dark gray shirt and a pair of shorts from the bag. My gaze flickered to his, wondering if he'd leave me to change, but instead, he just stayed, his eyes holding mine.Without a word, he reached forward, his fingers grazing my shoulders as he eased the robe off, keeping his gaze steady on mine. I felt a thrill at the way he lingered, brushing my hair back as he slid the shirt over my arms, his touch lingering against my skin. I brought my hands to face bringing his face close to mine. Our lips met and what started as a sweet mellow kiss turned into more as he guided me to lay down. He hovered over me. I spread my legs letting him rest between them. He gripped one of my thighs as we made out pulling it up higher and I could feel his hardening member. "Steve," I sighed as he began to kiss my neck. "Tell me what you want," he said against my skin. "I want you," I replied. He got up on his knees and pulled his shirt off. Just as he went to pull his sweats down. The door opened. Steve immediately pulled the bed cover over me. I looked over and found Bucky in the doorway. "Sorry!" He yelled putting his hands over his eyes. "I'm not used to having to knock on Steve's door," he apologetically said. "Use the lock next time." "Can I help you with something Buck?" "We're going over strategies. Tony is thinking of outsourcing." "Outsourcing?" Steve asked putting his shirt back on "to who?" "You'll see tomorrow. I'll leave you two to it," he smirked locking the door then shutting it. His fingers worked carefully, tugging the fabric gently down over my shoulders, then over my torso, his eyes meeting mine with a warmth that made my pulse flutter. "Where were we?" He asks moving in to kiss me again. "Wait," I said bringing my hands to his chest. "Who is Tony outsourcing to?" I ask "what the hell does that even mean?" "Tony has a lot of connections. After Thanos our network got a lot bigger. There's wizards, aliens, talking animals and Trees. I don't know who he called. But we'll find out tomorrow morning. It'll be ok. I promise. " His tone was strong and sure. His eyes searched mine and although I felt a bit better this was all a lot to take in, but I didn't care about anything else in that moment—the danger, the unknowns. All I cared about was the way he looked at me, like I was the only person in the world. I felt a boldness rise up inside me, whispering, "You know, when you look at me like that..." He raised a brow, his lips quirking. "Like what?" "Like that," I murmured, inching closer, letting the words linger in the air between us. "Like you don't want to let go."

Steve's hand drifted up to cradle my face, his thumb tracing a gentle line along my cheek. "That's because I don't." And then, with a sweetness that took my breath away, he leaned in, his lips brushing against mine, gentle but intent, like he wanted to savor every second. My hands slid up to his shoulders, feeling the solid warmth of him under my touch. In that small moment, in the quiet of his room, the world outside faded away.We pulled back slowly, his forehead resting against mine, his hand warm against the small of my back. I smiled, tracing a line along his jaw. "So... what now?" I asked. "Now?" he murmured, brushing his thumb across my cheek. "We finally sleep. I've kept you up way past your bed time." He smirked and my mind traveled back to hours ago in my bed with his face between my legs. As I laid down on his soft bed and he adjusted my foot to be elevated with a pillow. "You're so sweet." I said as I watched him tend to my toe expertly.

"Depends on the day," he responds making me laugh. He pulls his shirt and sweats off leaving him in boxers before he lays down next to me and I fall asleep listening to the beat of his heart.

A low, thundering rumble jolted me awake, and I sat up so fast I nearly fell off the bed. My heart was racing, and my immediate thought was that we were under attack. I reached out instinctively, grabbing for Steve, who, to his credit, was already on his feet, moving like someone who woke up to explosions for a living.

"Steve, what was that?" I whispered, dread creeping up my spine. He pulled on a t-shirt, his movements calm but quick, and reached for my hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. We stood still listening for more clues then I hear a faint sound of music. "Is that hooked on a feeling?" I asked out loud. "Quill," Steve sighed shaking his head. "Who?" "Peter Quill, he's who Tony probably outsourced to. I'm gonna warn you right now don't stare at the raccoon for too long." He said and starts getting dressed. I follow his lead and get dressed.

As Steve and I headed up to the landing pad, I could hear the hum of a ship powering down, and my stomach flipped. Sure, I'd spent the night in the Tower, but I hadn't exactly gotten used to this whole "superhero universe" thing yet. Now aliens were about to drop by for breakfast. Casual.

When we stepped onto the rooftop, a massive, almost pieced-together spaceship sat before us. Its hatch opened with a dramatic hiss, and out walked the strangest, most colorful crew I'd ever seen. Leading the way was a tall guy in a red leather jacket who radiated confidence. Beside him was a green-skinned woman with a fierce look in her eyes, followed by a blue-skinned woman who seemed like she'd rather be anywhere else, and an enormous, lumbering tree. Behind them, a broad-shouldered, tattooed man strolled out, flanked by... a raccoon in a jumpsuit?

"Oh. My. God." I muttered, leaning toward Steve trying to hide behind him. "Is that the... raccoon?"

"Rocket Raccoon." The little creature corrected me as he squinted up at me, clearly offended. "I'm Rocket.." He crossed his tiny arms, clearly daring me to keep going.

"Well, Rocket," I said, trying not to grin, "you're awfully feisty for a, um... small, being."

He scoffed, eyes narrowing. "Awfully cocky for a weak, Earthling with a limp. What'd you do, trip over your own ego?"

"Actually, I dropped weight on it," I shot back, smirking. "Don't know if you've ever lifted anything heavier than a bag of garbage."

The others chuckled as Rocket gave me a sour look. "Oh, she's got a smart mouth, huh? Keep it up, and maybe I won't use this fancy tech to fix that toe of yours."

I blinked, glancing down as he pulled out something grey and I watched as he moved it closer to my foot, he wrapped it around my foot with the kind of pride you'd expect from a kid showing off his new toy.

"Wait, is this going to hurt?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh relax only for a second!" He activated it with a huff, and I felt a warm, tingling sensation over my injured toe as the pain dulled. When he powered it off and stashed it away, I wiggled my toes, amazed to find they were pain-free.

"Whoa... thanks, Rocket," I said, surprised. "I'm making you cookies!" I happily said.

"Don't mention it," he muttered, turning away with a half-smirk. "But I would prefer a carrot cake."

Steve placed a hand on my shoulder, steering us toward the rest of the group. "Dani, this is Peter Quill—he's the leader of the Guardians. That's Gamora, Nebula, Groot, and Drax."

Peter stepped forward with a charming grin, giving me an elaborate, overly formal bow. "We prefer 'Guardians of the Galaxy,' but I guess just the first word works, too."

Gamora gave him a dry look before offering me a small nod. Nebula crossed her arms, assessing me like I was a problem she couldn't quite solve, while Drax just nodded, a little too seriously.

And Groot... well, Groot just looked down at me with big, gentle eyes and said, "I am Groot."

I smiled, feeling unexpectedly charmed. "I am Dani," I said loudly to him.

As we all moved back inside, Tony and the Avengers joined us in the lounge, gathering to discuss the threat looming over us. I settled into a seat beside Steve, trying to follow the conversation, which felt like a crash course in "who's who" of galactic villains.

But as they talked, my thoughts drifted. Here we were, with two full superhero teams crammed into the room, yet everyone looked like they could use some comfort food. I slipped out quietly and headed to the kitchen, pulling out ingredients for a big breakfast.

About half an hour later, I carried in plates piled with scrambled eggs, bacon, pancakes, french toast and fresh fruit, setting it down on the table. The room went quiet, and I caught Rocket eyeing the food with what might've been a hint of longing.

"Well, I thought we could use some food." I said shyly, stepping back as they all eyed the spread.

Rocket grabbed a plate, sniffing cautiously before shoveling in a mouthful. "Alright, Earth girl," he said, talking around a mouthful. "You're not half-bad in the kitchen." He grabbed another forkful, and I saw a slight glint of appreciation in his eye.

Peter looked up, grinning. "Dani, this is amazing."

"Thanks," I replied, smiling. "I figured you could all use something a little, you know... normal."

Rocket rolled his eyes but kept eating, muttering under his breath about "fragile humans" in between bites. 

Peter leaned over his plate, looking at me with a little more seriousness than his usual light-hearted charm. “So, about Madame Masque,” he began. “She’s bad news. I mean, this woman has more disguises than I do bad pick-up lines. She’s got a serious grudge against the Avengers—especially since Steve has been… let’s just say, thwarting her plans for a long time.”

He leaned back, drumming his fingers on the table. “Basically, she’s an arms dealer, a master thief, and has this habit of holding grudges until, well, people end up with a serious need for medical attention. You being close to Steve makes you a target. And when she’s determined, she’s relentless. Doesn’t matter if you’re involved or not.”

His words landed heavily, and suddenly, the weight of this strange new world seemed like too much. Madame Masque wasn’t just some villain I’d read about in a magazine or seen on TV—she was real, dangerous, and willing to do whatever it took to get back at the people I was now, somehow, connected to. The room felt too small, too warm, and I needed some air.

I excused myself quietly, slipping out onto the small balcony down the hall. The cool morning air hit my face, grounding me as I took a shaky breath. I looked out at the cityscape, feeling so small against the world—especially now that my world had somehow grown so big.

Suddenly, I heard tiny feet padding across the tile behind me. I turned to find Rocket standing there, leaning against the doorframe with his usual half-smirk.

“Couldn’t help but notice you didn’t finish your food,” he said, crossing his little arms and tilting his head to study me. “And you look like you’re about to pass out.”

I managed a weak smile. “It’s just… a lot. All of this. Madame Masque, you guys, aliens, threats… I was making cupcakes at the bakery yesterday, Rocket. Now I’m in the Avengers Tower trying to process the fact that I have an enemy, apparently.”

Rocket let out a snort. “Cupcakes, huh? Look, kid, the universe is full of nutcases with grudges. But you’re tough and if you're not then you better start pretending you are or you already lost.” He pointed a clawed finger at me. “Don’t think I didn’t notice the way you held your own in there, trading barbs with me. If you can handle me, Masque’s got nothing on you.”

I shook my head, laughing softly. “Aren’t you supposed to be a little more… gentle with this pep talk?”

“Gentle? You have a lot to learn about me.” Rocket raised a brow, then continued with a huff. “Listen, fragility’s a state of mind. You’re gonna be fine. Sure, you’re no superhero or guardian or whatever, but you’ve got somethin’ most people don’t—guts. Plus,” he added with a cheeky grin, “you make a damn good breakfast.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Are you saying my pancakes are a form of self-defense?”

He snorted. “Hey, I'm working with what I saw from you these will get better once I see you in action.” Rocket leaned back, his tone shifting slightly as he continued, “Look, I get it. When I was first thrown into all this craziness, I felt the same. I was just a little dude, genetically modified, plopped into a universe that didn’t make sense. But you roll with it, or it rolls over you.”

His words landed harder than I expected. There was something about the way he spoke, with this mix of humor and hard-won wisdom, that tugged at me.

“Just don’t let fear run your life,” he added, his voice softening. “It’s a waste of time, trust me. You stand up to her, you hear me? She’s nothin’ but a spoiled brat with toys she thinks make her tough. Real tough is showing up and fighting, even when you’ve got no clue how it’ll end.”

I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding, feeling that weight lift just a little. “Thanks, Rocket. You’re actually… pretty good at this whole pep talk thing.”

He feigned horror, then shook his head with a grin. “Oh, don’t you go spreading that around. Got a reputation to keep.” Then he shrugged, tapping the balcony railing. “Come on, get back in there. You think I came all the way across the galaxy for you to hide out here and mope?”

I couldn’t help but laugh, reaching down to give him a gentle pat on the shoulder. He rolled his eyes but didn’t pull away.

“You’re not so bad yourself, Rocket.”

“Yeah, yeah, just don’t tell Quill.”