starksvixen

[starksvixen]

Meet Me Halfway

Summary : Bucky has to recruit the love of his life to save New York from the void. He doesn't know if she wants to ever see him again, though.

Pairing : Bucky Barnes x reader (she/her) 

Warnings/tags : Thunderbolts* spoilers below the cut!!!!!!! Exes to friends to lovers. Fluff,  angst, reader is a tracker with enhanced senses. Cursing, Trauma. Implied sex. Alcohol consumption. Death(Please let me know if I miss anything!!!)

Requested by : anon 

Word count : 15k whoops

Note : This story touches on the events of Civil War, IW, Endgame, FATWS, BP Wakanda Forever, and Thunderbolts*! I used google translate for the Xhosa, so please let me know if it needs to be corrected. If you’d like to be on the taglist, message me! It gets lost in the comments sometimes. Enjoy!

You were a tracker.

Your body was a weapon, biologically improved by enhanced senses. You could smell a carcass from ten miles away. You could hear a pin drop on the other side of town. Your eyes could track body heat through a crowd of thousands— and it meant you were a hunter in a world full of invisible prey. Some people hunted with tools. You were the tool. 

So, of course Steve Rogers found you when he needed to find a ghost. Steve found you when the world turned on James Buchanan Barnes. 

After the UN bombing in Vienna, when Bucky was framed and every intelligence agency on Earth wanted him in chains or dead, Steve came to you— he heard of you through old SHIELD files— with desperation and a duffel bag full of cash. 

“I need you to find him,” he said. “Before they do.”

You didn’t even hesitate before taking the job. Because even then, before you met Bucky you believed Steve. And more than that, you believed in redemption.

You tracked Bucky down with your senses—following the scent of gunpowder and cold metal, the subtle trail of heat left in his wake, the ragged sound of breath through the cities of Bucharest. 

You found him before the world did and pointed Steve and Sam in the right direction.

— 

By the time the Avengers disbanded, you were a fugitive—hunted by that least half of the world’s government. Helping Steve Rogers had branded you a traitor in their eyes, but you didn’t regret it. Not then. Not now.

When T’Challa offered sanctuary to Bucky, he extended the same offer to you. Wakanda didn’t just take you in; it gave you purpose. In exchange for refuge, you worked for the royal family— tracking those who dared to steal vibranium from the borders and ensuring justice found them before they slipped through the cracks.

Your home was a modest apartment tucked into the east wing of the palace. It was secluded, perfect for someone like you.

—

When Bucky finally woke from the ice and the trigger words were gone, he didn’t know who to trust. The world had changed too much. He had changed too much.

He trusted Queen Ramonda, who always made sure there was room for both of you at the palace table. He trusted Shuri and the Dora Milaje, because they helped him heal his mind. He trusted both you and T’challa, simply because… Steve trusted you. 

He didn’t expect to fall for you, though.

—

At first, Bucky barely spoke. He moved like a shadow through the palace when he even left his little hut at all. 

He was healing, but not whole. Not yet. The arm was gone—torn from him in Siberia, left behind with the rest of Hydra’s wreckage. 

Bucky hadn’t gotten his new arm yet. Shuri insisted they take their time, that his body and mind needed rest before they complicated him with upgrades. It was the right call. But it left him vulnerable in ways he hated. 

For a man who’d lost so much already, it felt like one more cruel subtraction. You noticed how he avoided using his left side. How he winced at imbalance. How he hated needing help.

You didn’t pity him. You just made space for him to breathe. You shared meals together in the palace garden, never pushing for a conversation he wasn’t ready for.

Sometimes, you’d sit and sharpen your blades while he watched the sky. Other days, you’d bring him small things—a worn paperback with dog-eared pages, a piece of fruit from an outreach mission, or a knife he could train with using only one hand.

“You're not trying to fix me,” he said once, more surprised than grateful.

You shrugged. “You’re not broken.”

You started getting really close because of jars. Peanut butter, mostly. Occasionally pickles. Once, a stubborn jar of papaya jam.

You noticed how he hesitated at cabinets, how he didn’t ask for help even when he clearly needed it— especially because he didn’t know how to use just one hand. 

If he needed a jar opened, you’d walk by, say nothing, and twist the lid off. Then you’d leave it on the counter and move on. No questions. No pity. 

Over time, it turned into more than jars.

He started joining you on your patrols—not in an official capacity, just to walk, perhaps to feel the beauty of the world again without being chased. You’d track down potential threats to Wakandan borders—smugglers, black market mercs—and Bucky would wait for you to get back before having his meal. 

He eventually told you about Bucharest in fragments. About Hydra in pieces. In return, you told him about the experiment. Not all of it—just enough for him to understand that you, too, had been shaped into something you didn’t ask to be.

Days passed like water through your fingers.

You trained with him in the early mornings — barefoot in the dirt, palms open, bodies moving like you were learning each other through motion. You’d fight, laugh, fall, rise again.

At night, you sat together under the stars, sharing stories in fragments — half-finished memories neither of you were strong enough to say out loud in full. You learned he liked fruit, that he slept on his side, that he sometimes talked in Russian in his dreams and didn’t realise it.

One night, you asked, “Do you remember who you were, before all of it?”

He hesitated, then shook his head. “I think… I remember who I loved. My sister. Steve. The Howling Commandos. But who I was a long time ago? He’s long gone.”

“He’s not,” you whispered. “You’re him. Just… in pieces.”

He looked at you like you were a miracle.

And one of those days, you fell in love with him. 

You didn’t fall in love all at once. It happened slowly, quietly—like stepping into warm water without realising how deep it’s gotten until you’re already submerged.

You tried not to make too much of it. Tried to keep it buried. But your heart had a mind of its own.

So one afternoon, you found yourself pacing in the royal garden while Nakia and Okoye pruned herbs, and blurted it out before you could stop yourself.

“I think I’m in trouble.”

Okoye raised an eyebrow, “Did you get injured?”

“No,” you said, “but I—“

Nakia interrupted you, a knowing smile curling at the edges of her mouth. “Is this the kind of trouble with blue eyes and long hair?”

“Well, yes, I—“ You groaned, pressing a hand to your face. “—I think I like him.”

Okoye tutted, not unkindly. “You think? I’ve seen the way you look at him like he’s a sunrise after a long night.”

Nakia laughed.

“I’m serious!” you said, trying to sound firm and absolutely failing. “He looks at me like I’m not broken.”

“What is wrong with that?” Okoye asked.

“Because I might believe him.” 

Nakia finally stopped  laughing. Her voice softened. “Sounds like someone sees you the way you’ve always deserved to be seen.”

You didn’t answer her. 

—

Meanwhile, Bucky sat on a sun-warmed bench beside T’Challa, overlooking the city below. After a long silence, Bucky confessed, “I think I’m in trouble.”

T’Challa turned to look at him and raised a brow. “The kind with bullets or feelings?”

“Feelings,” Bucky muttered under his breath. 

“Ah. More dangerous,” T’Challa smiled slightly. “The tracker?”

Bucky blinked. “How the hell does everyone know?”

“You are not subtle, my friend,” T’Challa said, patting him on the shoulder. 

“Yeah,” Bucky chuckled cynically, “Well…”

There was another pause, and then T’Challa spoke softly, “When I was hung up on Nakia, my baba used to tell me Uthando aluyomdlalo; ngumlambo ongenamkhawulo.”

Bucky stared at him for a while, translating in his head. Love is not a game. It is a river with no end.

“You cannot control where it takes you,” T’challa explained, “Only whether you choose to step in.”

Bucky sighed. “I think I already have.”

—

Later, by the lake, the air was still. The moonlight danced on the surface of the water, casting silver over the little hut Bucky called home.

You stood at his door, hands in clenched fists at your sides, heart racing in a way you hadn’t felt since you first got your powers. You knocked, and it was softer than intended— like a question more than a demand.

He opened the door like he’d been expecting you. You didn’t wait. You didn’t explain. You just looked at him and said, “I think I’m in trouble.”

He stepped aside without a word and let you in without a word. “Me too,” he whispered.

Inside the hut, the world seemed a bit quieter.

Bucky stood a few steps away, uncertain. You didn’t move at first. Neither did he.

Then he reached out, slowly, like approaching a wounded animal. His fingers brushed yours. You curled into his touch without thinking. “I— I think,” you choked out the words. “Fuck— I don’t know how to say it or where to begin…”

“Shhh, I know,” he whispered reassuringly, “because I do, too.”

You nodded, throat tight. “I know.”

You had known for a while now. Your senses allowed you to smell the oxytocin in the air when he was around you, to hear his heartbeat quicken when you spent time together, 

He didn’t ask. He didn’t need to. He just stepped closer, forehead resting against yours like it was the only place he belonged. Your fingers traced the curve of his jaw, then slid to the scar marring his shoulder—a mark where his Hydra arm used to bed.

“I’m scared,” he confessed, voice low.

“Me too,” you whispered, your lips trembling.

But then you leaned in, and kissed him.

At first, it was tentative—testing. Then, almost immediately, it turned urgent, like you needed to carve this moment into memory, like you were oxygen to him. 

He kissed you back with desperation, like he was terrified you might vanish if he let go. His hand gripped your waist, pulling you closer until there was no space left, no more hiding. When you finally broke apart, gasping, foreheads pressed, fingers still clinging to each other like anchors, you said it again, softer this time. “I know.”

“Yeah,” he smiled, “I know.”

The next few months unfolded in pieces.

You were his lover, though neither of you used the word much. Labels felt too fragile, too small for what you were building. You sparred in the mornings, slept tangled together some nights. Sometimes you held him through dreams he didn’t remember. Sometimes he held you through memories you couldn’t say out loud.

Neither of you said “I love you.”

You didn’t need to. You showed it in the broken ways people like you do. He cleaned your knives after missions. You kissed the scars on his body without asking where they came from. But in each other, you found peace.

But you did, though you didn’t say it until a year later, When Thanos’ army broke through Wakanda’s barriers.

You stood on the battlefield, shoulder to shoulder with the Dora Milaje. He was beside you, new arm gleaming.

You both knew you might die here.

So just before the charge Bucky turned to you and reached for your hand, calloused fingers threading with yours.

“I love you,” he said.

You looked at him, heart pounding. And in that final moment—when the world outside this little bubble burned and the force field opened—you said it back. “I love you too.”

And then you let go and ran into the fire together.

—

The battle was chaos.

Together, you carved a path through the madness, never far from each other’s side. Each glance was a tether. But when Thanos snapped—

You felt it first. A strange pull in your chest. Like gravity forgot you.

Bucky turned just in time to see you stumble.

“Doll?” He breathed out, voice catching in his throat.

You looked down at your hand— and your fingers were dissolving.

“Hey…” you said softly, like you didn’t want to scare him.

And then— you were gone, carried by the wind.

Bucky’s knees gave out next.

His vision blurred as your hands started to vanish. The world felt far away as he turned to Steve next and said his best friend’s name.

There was no time to be afraid. He just had one last thought— I’m coming with you.

And then— nothing. 

—

Five Years Later.

You came back gasping.

One moment there was nothing—and the next, the battlefield roared around you again. Portals opened. War cried out for soldiers. You ran through it, only searching for one person. You searched the air for his scent, tracked body heat through the crowds looking for Bucky.

When you found him, he grabbed you and pulled you into his arms, and held you so tightly it hurt. But you didn’t care. You buried your face in his shoulder and let yourself feel everything all at once. 

You fought side by side again that day, but even after Thanos was defeated, even after the dust finally settled, the weight on Bucky's shoulders hadn’t lifted.

That night, you and him laid down on a half-collapsed med tent. You were bruised, your leg cut, his knuckles torn open—but you both refused to be separated.

“Bucky,” you said gently as you took his shaking hands. “I’m here.”

He didn’t answer, he just stared blankly at you like you might disappear again.

“Talk to me,” you whispered.

And then— he broke.

His hands grabbed your face and kissed you like he had to prove you were real. Like if he didn’t, the universe might take you away again. His breath was uneven, voice hoarse as he finally spoke, “You turned to dust in front of me.”

You pulled him in, forehead to forehead, hearts thundering between bruised ribs. “We came back.”

“I watched it happen,” he choked. “You looked right at me—and then you were just gone. I—“ 

“I came back,” you repeated, firmer now. “I am here.”

He didn’t ask. He didn’t explain. He just pushed his forehead into your collarbone and let his walls fall. 

And in that surrender, you undressed in a desperate attempt to feel something, anything at all. 

It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t perfect. His hands shook against your bare skin, yours ached. You kissed the scar at his shoulder where metal met flesh, and he kissed the bruise on your cheekbones as if he could heal it. 

And when you moved together, it was achingly intimate— two ghosts trying to remember how to be alive.

After, he stayed wrapped around you, hand on your stomach, breath finally steady. You ran your fingers through his hair and kissed his temple.

—

You soon learned that you were different people to who you were five years ago. 

You were still yourself—but edged. The senses they’d carved into you had only grown keener in the dust. You could smell grief in the air. Taste the metallic echo of time. You threw yourself into your work because it was the only way you could process anything. You have given more time to your job and less to everyone else in your life because it was the only way to block your demons out. 

And Bucky—God, Bucky.

Maybe it was watching you vanish into nothing. Maybe it was watching Steve choose a life he didn’t get to have. Maybe it was both. Whatever it was, it left him wound tight, walking through the world like it might crumble beneath his feet at any second. He became suffocatingly protective.

Now, he was always checking exits. Watching windows. Reading strangers’ faces. Looking for ghosts with Hydra insignias or familiar flags. Always ready to run.

You soon realised that while you both have survived death, surviving life was harder.

Some nights, he woke drenched in sweat, eyes wide and terrified. Sometimes he dragged you with him—out of bed, into the hall, whispering about danger that wasn’t there. About people who might take you from him again. You held him anyway.

You wrapped your arms around his trembling body.. You whispered to him that he was safe, that you were real. And some nights, he even believed you.

And on the quietest nights, when your pulse thudded steady beneath his hand, you’d say the only promise that mattered, “If we vanish again—we vanish together.”

He would nod against your chest and weep. 

And while your words helped him in the moment, things only got worse. 

He was still obsessed with not losing you again.

He watched you like a man teetering on the edge of a cliff. Always scanning, always planning, always afraid. He checked your comms before you left on a mission. He memorised your schedule like a battle plan. He begged for access to your Kimoyo beads so he could track your movements like a tactician studying the terrain.

It wasn’t protective anymore. It was paranoia.

He wouldn’t sleep if you were out past dark. Would sit by the window, waiting for footsteps or the sound of your key in the lock.

You tried to reason with him—gently, at first. You reminded him who you were, what you could do. 

None of it mattered.

To Bucky, you were breakable simply because you were his.

When he got pardoned, the first thing he said was, “Come with me. Brooklyn. I have to… make amends.”

“Bucky, the Wakandan royal family is extending my contract,” You sighed, kissing the crease between his eyebrows. “They trust me. I’m not leaving that behind.”

He didn’t argue. Not really. He just clenched his teeth and nodded. But you could feel the storm brewing, so you compromised. You would spend three months in Brooklyn with him, then three in Wakanda for work. A split life. 

But even in that compromise, the obsession bled through. Every time you left, he’d call. Text. Ping your locator chip on your kimoyo beads. Just checking, he’d say. Just making sure you’re okay.

It stopped feeling sweet. It started to feel like surveillance.

Sometimes you’d be halfway through a mission—deep in a jungle or in the middle of a compromised crowds—and his name would light up your screen five, six, ten times. His worry grew into desperation. 

You knew he didn’t mean to be cruel. But it didn’t make it easier.

And then one day— it was too much.

You’d just gotten back from a run along the Wakandan border. You were bruised but fine as you walked into your apartment and found your phone flashing with fourteen missed calls and a message that said, “If you don’t answer in five minutes, I’m calling Shuri. I’ll track your signal myself if I have to.”

When you called him, he picked up instantly. “Are you okay? I thought—God, I thought something happened—”

“Bucky,” you snapped. “Stop.”

You were pacing now, your heart hammering harder than it had in the field. “You have got to stop doing this. I am not going to disappear every time I step outside!”

“I just—” he started, but his voice cracked. “I can’t lose you again. I can’t—”

“I’m not yours to lose,” you said, quieter this time.

“I love you,” he whispered.

“I love you too,” you said, softer now. “But this—this isn’t love. This is fear in disguise. You’re watching me like I’m one wrong step away from disappearing, and it’s like you’re still stuck in that moment five years ago.”

“I am,” he said, unbearably honest. “You turned to dust. We can't just pretend that's not real.”

“We turned to dust, Bucky,” you corrected, your voice shaking now. “And we came back. We both did.”

There was a long pause. He just exhaled like the air had been punched from his lungs.

“I don’t want to lose you,” he said again, but this time, it sounded like a prayer. 

You wiped a tear from your cheek and whispered, “Then let me live.”

That night, he promised he’d do better.

He swore he would be on time to his therapy sessions. That he’d let you breathe. That he’d learn how to love you without gripping so tight it left bruises.

And for a while, he did. 

But healing isn't linear, and Bucky Barnes fell back into the spiral like it was a black hole.

Two months later, the calls started again. The check-ins. You’d wake to a dozen voicemails. You’d tell him your mission schedule, but he’d still show up unannounced in Wakanda under some flimsy excuse, saying he just needed to see you, to make sure.

Then the court notices started coming. Missed sessions. Warnings from the state department. Red letters in bold ink.

He wasn’t going to therapy anymore. He was tracking you instead.

When you returned from your latest mission along the southern border, there he was— waiting in your apartment in Wakanda, hands shaking.

“Bucky?” you asked, dropping your gear. “What are you doing here?”

He didn’t answer at first. Just stepped toward you, breathing hard like he’d run the whole way from Brooklyn.

“I tried calling,” he said. “You didn’t answer. You were late reporting in. You weren’t supposed to be gone that long—”

“I was on a stealth mission, James!” you shouted, incredulous. “Do you hear yourself?”

He winced when you used his first name. “I thought you were in trouble.”

“You thought I was in trouble so you hopped a plane, skipped two international borders, and missed court-mandated therapy to come stalk me?!”

“I wasn’t stalking—” he started, but you cut him off, voice shaking.

“Bucky, go to fucking therapy! You are missing mandated sessions to follow me around like I’m going to vanish into smoke again. You’re not okay.”

His eyes flashed with tears building up in the corners. “I’m not okay because the one person who makes me feel safe disappears for weeks at a time without warning!”

“What kind of pressure is that? I am not your fucking safety net!” you finally screamed, though you did not mean to. “I am your girlfriend, not your property.”

He flinched.

“You don’t trust me,” you said, your voice cracking at the seams. “You trust your fear more than me. You trust your obsession more than you trust my skills, my choices, my life.”

“I do trust you—”

“No, you don’t!” you snapped. “If you did, you wouldn’t be here. You’d be in therapy. Not sitting on my damn bed, panicking because I missed a check-in by three hours.”

He looked down. “I just wanted to make sure—”

“I know,” you said softly, bitterly. “I know. And I love you. God, I love you.”

Your voice cracked again, but your words were firm. “But this isn’t love anymore, Bucky. This is control. This is not good for you. Being here? With me? It's hurting both of us.”

Finally, Bucky nodded. Just once.

“Do you think we’ll ever be okay again?” he asked, voice barely audible.

You swallowed the lump in your throat and sat next to him, squeezing his human hand. You didn’t want to do this like this. But the moment you looked at him you knew you couldn’t keep pretending everything was fine and dandy. 

You took a breath.

“This…” you started gently, like saying it softer might hurt less. “This isn’t working.”

He blinked. “What?”

“This,” you said, motioning between you with a shaking hand. “Us. The way it is right now. It’s not working.”

He jerked his hand back, standing up in shock like you’d slapped him. “Wait—what the hell are you saying?”

“I’m saying you left Brooklyn without clearance. Again. You broke parole—again. You’ve got people looking for you.”

“I don’t care about any of that,” he snapped, eyes dark. “You weren’t answering. You were off the grid. What was I supposed to do? Just sit around and wait?”

“Yes,” was all you said. You didn’t need to remind him that he needed to trust you. That he needed to trust your skills. 

His voice was shaking now. “What happened to ‘if we vanish again, we vanish together’?”

You closed your eyes at the words. You’d meant it.

But promises can rot when fed with obsession.

Your voice cracked. “I said that when you could breathe without having to know where I was every second of every day, Bucky.”

He looked down, jaw, hands balled into fists. “I can’t lose you again.”

“And I can’t live like this,” you said, voice strained as you wiped your tears away. “I’m not your leash, and I’m not your cure. You can’t chain yourself to me because you don’t know how to be with yourself.”

His eyes filled with watery tears, and he didn’t speak.

So you did. 

“Please,” you said, “leave by morning. Go home. Check in with Dr. Raynor when you land. If you don’t, they’ll arrest you.”

He opened his mouth, but you shook your head. You couldn’t do another round of argument.

“Don’t,” you whispered. “Don’t make this harder.”

He took a breath, chest heaving like he’d run a marathon just to make it this far. “So that’s it?”

You didn’t answer.

Just stepped up and pressed your hand gently against his chest—where his heart still beat too fast and your enhanced hearing was picking it up too well—and whispered, “Goodbye, Bucky.”

He turned without another word, because anything he said might break you both.

And when the door shut behind him, the silence that followed felt like a funeral.

—

Bucky didn't know where to go, so he wandered and wandered until he sat down on the palace steps, hands shaking, heart swirling like a thunderstorm in his chest. 

He didn’t notice T’Challa approach until the king sat beside him, arms resting on his knees.

For a long while, neither of them spoke. “She told you to leave,” T’Challa said simply. Not unkind, but not sparing.

Bucky’s teeth clenched. “Yeah.”

“She’s right, you know.”

“I don’t want to hear that right now.”

“I know,” T’Challa said. “But I am saying it anyway, my friend.”

Bucky said nothing, fists digging into the vibranium infused staircase step beneath him. T’Challa went on, “You love her. I know. She loves you too. But love twisted by fear is dangerous. You were not protecting her. You were holding her hostage in your panic.”

“I wasn’t—”

“You were,” T’Challa interrupted gently. “And she forgave you for longer than most would. But she cannot carry both her past and yours. You nearly became what you once fought against: control.”

Bucky turned his head away, chest tight. “I didn’t mean to. I just— I couldn’t lose her again.”

“It’s not just you,” T’Challa said softly, “she… she needs space. She’s throwing herself into work, and perhaps that’s how she copes, but she’s becoming… distant. From you. From all of us.”

Bucky’s breath hitched.

“You know I know what it feels like firsthand to come back from being turned to dust.” T’Challa said, “and when we came back, we all changed. I believe you might need time away from each other to first understand how you both have changed.”

Bucky finally looked at him, eyes rimmed with red. “So what, I just pretend none of this happened?”

“No,” T’Challa said. “You leave. You go to therapy. And you become someone who deserves a second chance—not from her. From yourself.”

Then T’Challa stood, brushing nonexistent dust from his robes. He looked down at the man once known as the Winter Soldier— now just a man.

“I will have a jet ready within the hour,” he said. “You will not say goodbye. That would only cause more pain.”

Bucky could only nod. Deep down, T’challa was his friend as much as he was yours. He was looking out for him as much as he was looking out for you. 

—

Bucky didn’t go straight to the jet in the landing pad. 

He walked around first—through the gardens he used to kiss you in, down the quiet stone paths lined with flowering trees. And then, when he couldn’t stall any longer, he found Shuri.

She was in her lab, sleeves rolled up, a smudge of grease on her cheek, working on a new upgrade for the Kimoyo bead system. She didn’t look surprised when she saw him.

He stood just inside the door for a while, fidgeting with the strap of the bag slung over his shoulder. 

“I’m leaving,” he said finally, voice hoarse.

Shuri nodded with a sad smile. “I heard.”

He hesitated. “Can you keep tabs on her for me?” He asked. As soon as the words came out of his mouth, he realised how bad it must’ve sounded. “I’m not asking you to spy on her. I swear.”

That made her pause. She turned to him, brows raised in wary curiosity. “Sounds like you are.”

“I’m not,” he said again, hands up in surrender. “But I need—I just need to know if she’s hurt. That’s all. If she’s injured. If something happens in the field. Not every move, not every detail, just... if she’s okay.”

Shuri’s eyes softened. “She wants you to move on. You know that, right?”

“I know,” Bucky said quickly. “And I won’t reach out. I won’t interfere. But if something serious happens—if she’s in the med bay or worse—I need to know. I can’t breathe not knowing that.”

Shuri crossed her arms. Studied him.

“You still think it’s love, don’t you?” she asked quietly.

He flinched. “I don’t know what it is anymore. But I know that it’s not trust. Not peace. That’s why I’m leaving.”

She held his eyes for a long time. Then she nodded once. “If she’s ever in danger, you’ll hear from me. That’s all I’ll promise.”

He nodded, relieved. “Thank you.”

Shuri stepped closer, pressing a new set of Kimoyo beads into his palm. “These won’t track her. But they will let you receive encrypted pings if I send one. No contact. Just information.”

Bucky curled his fingers around the beads like they were a lifeline.

“I’ll earn my second chance,” he whispered, almost to himself. “Even if it’s just for me.”

Shuri nodded. And with that, she turned back to her work.

Bucky walked out of the lab with the bracelet tucked into his pocket and boarded the jet alone.

Not with closure. But with a choice to begin again.

—

Six Months Later

You hadn’t meant to watch the news. It was just playing in the corner of the lab, the volume low was meant to be background noise.  

But there he was.

Bucky, onn screen, his hair shorter now, beard shaved. He was standing next to Sam, both of them looking like they’d just walked through hell and come out victorious. 

“Barnes and Wilson led the operation to contain a Flag Smasher attack—”

The footage cut to shaky video: Bucky saving hostages from a burning truck. Sam dropped from above, wings that Shuri gave him expanding in the night sky

You stopped breathing for a second.

Not because he looked good— though he did— but because he looked... different. Lighter. Still sharp around the edges, still Bucky, but not strung so tight he might snap. His shoulders weren’t so hunched. His eyes didn’t carry that haunted glaze you'd come to know too well.

You looked down at your phone, thumb hovering over the screen. Muscle memory had already opened your messages. The text thread was still there.

You started to type. 

Saw you on TV today. You looked—

You paused and backspaced.

Took down some Flag Smashers, huh? Didn’t even trip once. I’m impressed.

Delete.

You looked okay.

No.

You stared at the screen. You wanted to say something small, something kind. Something to let him know you’d seen him, that you still cared.

And then—

“Nope,” Okoye said from behind you.

You jumped, flipping your phone face-down like a teenager caught texting a crush.

Okoye raised an eyebrow, arms crossed in full general-mode. “I know that look. You are thinking about him.”

You sighed, rubbing your forehead. “He looked... better.”

“Good. That is what healing is supposed to look like,” she said, tilting her head. “But do not dishonour that progress by dragging each other back into the fire so soon.”

“I wasn’t going to send it,” you muttered under your breath. 

Okoye gave you a really? look. 

You smiled sheepishly. “Okay, maybe. But just a little.”

She stepped forward, took your phone, and pocketed. “Let him move on. I will take you on patrol,” she said briskly, already walking toward the hangar. “And after, we have tea. And girl talk.”

“Girl talk?” you chuckled, following.

“Yes. I have opinions on your taste in emotionally volatile men. It is time you heard them.”

You laughed despite yourself.

—

One Year Later.

The palace was quieter now that T’Challa was gone.

And grief didn’t move cleanly through your body like it used to. It crept and lingered and collected behind your eyes, in the back of your throat, in the hollow ache of your chest that wouldn’t quite go away.

You’d expected to feel lost. But not like this.

You stood at the balcony outside your quarters, fingers curled around a steaming cup of tea Ayo had forced into your hands. 

You hadn’t slept. Couldn’t eat. Before returning back to your quarters, you stayed with Shuri the entire day today, being present for her and Queen Ramonda.

And then the doorbell chimed.

You opened it to find a small wrapped bundle of flowers on the floor. A delivery slip attached in elegant Wakandan script: With honor and remembrance.

In the bouquet was Snowdrops, winter jasmine, and White hyacinth.

It was a winter bouquet.

Not many people in Wakanda would choose those blooms. Not unless they’d meant something.

It was him. Bucky.

He must’ve contacted his old florist in the city to have it delivered to your wing of the palace. 

You sat on the edge of the bed, the flowers still in your hands, too stunned to cry.

And then, before you even realised what you were doing, your phone was in your lap. You opened the message thread with Bucky. 

You typed, Shuri said she texted you. Said you could come to the funeral. Why didn’t you?

You stared at it. Then, slowly, you deleted it.

Because what would he even say? That he wanted to give you space? That he didn’t know if you wanted to see him? That he sent flowers because showing up would hurt you more?

Maybe he thought the blooms were enough. But they weren’t.

You needed him— a friend who had known T’Challa like you had. Someone who remembered the man like you did— not just the king.

You wanted Bucky to hold you and reminisce about that time you dared T’challa to arm wrestle him. You wanted to laugh about his horrible jokes during harvest. But all you got were flowers.

And wasn’t this what you asked for?

You had told him to let go. To move on. To live his life. And he had.

You wiped at your eyes with the back of your wrist, too tired to be angry. Too empty to cry. Later, you placed the bouquet beside the small altar in the throne room, next to T’Challa’s photo.

A winter gift for a king.

You whispered, "I miss both of you."

—

You didn’t sleep much the year after that.

You didn’t eat much either. Grief gnawed at your gut like hunger, but nothing ever settled. Not even water. Not even rest.

All you had left was work. You helped Wakanda defend itself from foreign attacks, and when the time came, you helped track Riri Williams for Shuri. 

But when Shuri was taken by the Talokan, your sanity was cracked clean in half.

You didn’t feel fear. Or rage. Just focus. Razor-sharp, ice-cold, deadly focus.

You helped Nakia track her— followed her scent through the water, infrared vision scanning jungle heat signatures, nose full of salt and humidity until found her underwater. You got her back.

But then Namor attacked, and Queen Ramonda didn’t make it.

You had to look at one more coffin. One more goodbye to one more person gone who had offered you safety, love, and dignity.

Ramonda had seen both you and Bucky when you came to Wakanda scarred and haunted. She had welcomed you with open arms. And now she was gone too.

At the funeral, you held Shuri up because she was shaking. You held her hand. And when it was over, you took her into your quarters and let her sob into your shoulder for hours

You didn’t cry.

You couldn’t. You had to be strong for her.

That night, your phone buzzed with a message.

Bucky : “You okay?”

That was it.

You stared at it. You read it again. Then again.

Are you okay? 

You almost laughed. As if that was a question that could be answered in a text. As if that was something you could possibly explain.

Your queen was dead. Your sister in everything but blood had just buried both her brother and mother within 14 months. The kingdom you had called home for the past decade was under attack. You hadn't slept in four days. Your body was covered in bruises. And Bucky—the man who had once buried his face in your collarbone and sobbed because he couldn’t bear to lose you—sent a text.

A fucking text. Not even a call. 

You set your phone down and didn’t respond.

You didn’t throw it. You didn’t curse. You didn’t scream. You just... sat there. Numb. 

And that was the first night you drank.

You drank because your hands wouldn’t stop shaking and your mind wouldn’t stop screaming and no mission could numb you enough to silence the memory of T’challa’s last words or Ramonda’s last breath or Shuri’s tears soaking through your shirt.

You didn’t stop after one. You wanted to not feel at all. And when the bottle emptied, you drank again. And the next night. And the one after that.

It didn’t fix anything.

—

A Year Later.

You had buried yourself in fieldwork— back to back missions for Wakanda with little to no rest in between. It dulled the ache of grief, but it never fully faded. You were getting better. Still dying inside, but a little slower now.

You took risks that made even Okoye grit their teeth, but you didn’t care. With Shuri as the new Black Panther and the Midnight Angels at your side, it felt like movement was the only thing keeping you from collapsing. 

You didn’t care if the assignments were dangerous. Maybe you even preferred it that way.

Shuri was adjusting your new visor in her lab when she glanced up casually. “You know your ex is running for Congress?”

You tilted your head, “What?”

She flicked her fingers and brought up a holographic newsfeed. There he was—James Buchanan Barnes. Neatly combed hair in a dark blue suit, sporting a nervous half-smile. He was shaking hands somewhere in New York, surrounded by cameras.

You stared. “Bucky… in politics? Are we sure that’s not a skrull?”

Shuri laughed, brightening the room. “Positive. He filed last week. His campaign’s all over the place—veteran advocacy, post-Blip recovery programs.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Making amends.”

“He always said he wanted to,” she said gently.

You nodded, silent for a second too long. “He’ll do well.”

Shuri studied your expression. “You think?”

You didn’t answer right away. Your eyes stayed on the image—on Bucky’s restrained expression, the way he looked down like he was afraid to take up space.

“Yeah,” you said. “Have you seen that smile? He could charm a whole room without opening his mouth.”

Shuri laughed again. You found yourself smiling too, even if it hurt to do so.

For a while, she was as self-destructive as you. But now, you didn’t know how Shuri carried her own losses so gracefully, how she held herself together. Maybe it was the suit or the legacy. Or maybe she was just stronger. Your method was simpler: run into danger and don’t care if you make it out. It wasn’t healthy. But it was efficient.

Still, your senses were stronger than ever. You have noticed how Shuri’s heartbeat always picked up when you mention Bucky. You always assumed it was because she was worried about you— about the old wounds reopening. 

What you still didn’t know, what she never told you, was that she and Bucky were in constant contact. And after her mother’s death, her updates to him became more detailed, more frequent. Perhaps, it was because you were the closest thing she had to a sister. Perhaps she wanted to keep you safe— and letting Bucky know of your missions meant that if anything were to go wrong, he would be there to help.

She had already lost T’challa and Ramonda. She was not going to lose you, too.

—

Utah. Thunderbolts* timeline.

The gas station was run-down, lit by flickering fluorescent lights and signs buzzing with static. Inside, the team Yelena had apparently nicknamed the Thunderbolts stood in varying degrees of impatience as Bucky took off the last of their restraints.

Yelena rubbed her wrists and shot Bucky a sidelong glance. “So. How are we going to track Bob?”

Bucky didn’t answer immediately. He was already pulling out his phone, lips pressed in a hard line. “Can’t track Mel’s phone,” he muttered under his breath. “Wherever they are, they must have signal jammers.”

“Great,” John said. “And we’re just supposed to... drive and hope we’re going in the right direction?”

Ava narrowed her eyes. “We don't have time. If Val has Bob, there’s no telling—”

Bucky raised a hand. “I… I might know someone nearby who can track a scent halfway across the world.”

Alexei straightened with a hopeful gleam in his eye. “Ah! We are getting reinforcements?” He cracked his knuckles. 

Bucky was already reaching for his phone, hesitation coiling in his chest. His thumb hovered over the screen.

He shouldn't be doing this, right?

Were you ready to see him? After everything? After how you ended things? Did you even want to see him?

He rubbed the back of his neck, trying to shove down the uncertainty clawing at his ribs. 

Focus, Barnes. 

This wasn’t about closure or guilt or anything personal. Civilians could be in danger. And if Sentry project was as dangerous as they said, then they were way past playing it safe.

Even if it was messy. Even if it hurt.

“Something like that,” Bucky muttered, then hit Call—and walked out into the gas station parking lot.

—

Call to Shuri,  Wakandan Secure Channel.

“Bucky,” Shuri answered briskly, “If this is about a replacement arm because the raccoon stole it again—”

“It’s not,” Bucky cut in. “I need hotel information.”

A pause. “For whom?”

“For her.” He didn’t have to say your name. Shuri knew exactly who he meant.

“Why?”

“You told me she was in a joint op with Everett Ross in Salt Lake City. I just need the hotel name, Shuri.”

“That’s classified,” she said, more defensively than she meant. She was willing to give him many things about you, but this might be teetering on a line she wouldn’t cross.

“I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t urgent. We need to track someone before he levels a city,” Bucky explained, “Please.”

Shuri went quiet, because she knew a call from the White Wolf meant things were getting out of hand. 

—

You smelled him before he knocked.

He smelled like leather and metal. He had that faint, signature scent — like snowmelt clinging to old wood. 

You just finished an intel swap with Everett Ross, and now all you wanted to do was lie down and sleep. That was until you caught a whiff of his scent and you stopped dead in your tracks. 

The knock came a second later.

You took a breath, schooled your expression, and opened the door.

And there he was. James Buchanan Barnes. Standing in a Salt Lake City hotel hallway. 

His hair was longer than you last saw on TV, a little more silver threading through the temples. A black t-shirt that clung to him in all the ways that weren’t fair, leather jacket over it. 

You froze for a moment. 

“Wow… I— you…,” he said, as if he couldn’t help himself. “You’re still as beautiful as the last time I saw you.”

You let out a dry laugh before you could stop yourself, folding your arms. “You showing up uninvited in a hallway in Utah wasn’t exactly how I imagined hearing that.”

Bucky gave you a lopsided little smile — the kind that once made your knees weak. “Yeah, well… surprise?”

You rolled your eyes. But it was hard to ignore how your heartbeat had kicked up. “How did you even know I was here?”

He winced. “Okay, so… don’t be mad.”

“Oh no,” you said, flatly. “Great way to start.”

“I, uh… may have asked Shuri.”

Your brows rose. “You what?”

“Just for updates.”

“Bucky.”

“She didn’t tell me much! Just—like—general stuff. Missions. If you were injured. If you’d… eaten.”

“You’ve been asking my best friend to report on my food intake?”

“Okay, that was one time!”

“You don’t get to be worried anymore,” you cut in ever so gently, and the smile dropped from his face.

“I know,” he said. 

You stared at him, longing pressing under your ribs.

“You could’ve just called,” you said.

He swallowed. “I didn’t think you’d answer.”

“Then why are you here?”

“I…” He ran a hand through his hair. “I needed your help. For something. But part of me… I- I don’t know. I would be lying if I said I didn't want to see you.”

“Well, congratulations.” You rolled your eyes, “You found me.”

He didn’t respond. Just stood there with that goddamn puppy-dog look on his face — the one you used to wake up to. The one that said he still loved you in ways he probably didn’t know how to stop.

The silence stretched thin.

Finally, you sat down on your bed and said, “You weren’t there.”

Sitting down on the armchair across from you, Bucky’s brows pulled together, and he knew instantly what you meant.

“T’Challa,” you said. “Ramonda. You didn’t come. You sent flowers. A text. That’s all.”

“I know.”

“Do you?” Your voice cracked at the edges. “You don’t get it, Bucky. You were family. They loved you.”

“I loved them, too,” he said. “God, I loved them. T’Challa gave me a second chance. Ramonda treated me like a second son. You think it didn’t kill me not to be there?”

“Then why weren’t you?” you asked, quieter now. “Why didn’t you show up?”

He looked away. “Because I knew I’d see you, too.”

Oh. 

He continued, voice rough, eyes fixed on a random point over your shoulder. “I knew I’d see you in white, standing in front of that city that saved both of us. And I knew I wouldn’t be able to hold it together. I couldn’t go to Wakanda to grieve them and be reminded of you. I was already falling apart. I couldn’t break in front of everyone.”

Your breath hitched, just a little.

“You think I didn’t fall apart?” you whispered. “You think I didn’t wake up everyday being reminded of you? That I didn’t carry Shuri when she couldn’t stand even when I missed you?”

He looked back at you, “You are stronger than me.”

“No, Bucky,” You shook your head. “I just showed up.”

He swallowed hard, his chest heaving just slightly.

You stared at each other again — that thick, choking silence drowning you like a wave.

And still… underneath it all, there was love. Frustrated, frayed, unresolved — but alive. 

Bucky leaned forward. “I know I messed up. I know I don’t deserve to ask you for anything.”

You didn’t answer. You just watched him, waiting.

“I’ll stop,” he promised. “The updates. Everything. I’ll leave you alone. I just… need you to do one thing.”

Before you could respond, your nose twitched.

You frowned and sniffed the air, eyes narrowing when your ears picked up four new heartbeats in the vicinity. 

“Bucky,” you said slowly. “Does this have anything to do with the four jackasses currently pressed up against the hallway wall?”

He blinked. “...No?”

You sighed, walked to the front of the room and opened the door.  Yelena, Ava, John, and Alexei all flinched like a bunch of kids caught behind a curtain.

“I told you to wait in the car,” Bucky groaned. 

You crossed your arms at the four extremely guilty faces frozen mid-lean.

Ava, arms crossed like she wasn’t just eavesdropping with laser focus. Yelena, who gave a tiny wave. “Hi.” John, trying very hard to act casual. Alexei was grinning wide. “Ah! She is even more terrifying than Mr. Soldier described! I like her.”

You stared at them. Then at Bucky.

He winced. “...So yeah. About that one thing.”

—

They gave you the rundown on Bob and the Sentry Project—chaotic, riddled with questions and coded language that made you realise that Bucky was right— this was a larger-than-life situation.

It was enough to raise every red flag in your head, and by the end of it, you were just dragging a hand down your face like you were wiping off the last shred of peace you had left.

“Fine,” you muttered, already rerouting your mental map like instinct. You stepped in closer, tilting your head just slightly at the three people who had been in close vicinity to Bob. 

Yelena, John, and  Ava.

You went in close and did a focus inhale through your nose. Your senses lit up. You could smell a thread between them— that must be Bob’s smell. 

You could pick apart the sweat and smoke residue. You could smell the iron-spike scent of stress hormones surging through their blood. You could practically taste the adrenaline.

“Got it,” you said, nodding once.

Then you turned, already moving.

Your pupils contracted as you flipped into the edge of your infrared vision, sweeping the environment in layered pulses of heat and light. People lit up like sketches in flames. Your hearing tuned up next, catching radio chatter three blocks out, the thrum of a drone overhead.

You walked out, and they followed you as you followed the scent straight toward Avengers Tower.

—

Void, New York.

The city was being devoured—block by block, building by building—into a yawning chasm of darkness,a  negative space eating reality alive. It was as if Bob had carved a hole in the fabric of reality and let nothingness bleed through. The skyline blurred at the edges, buildings sucked into the black like paper into flame. 

People were turned into shadows, and what scared you the most was you can’t smell them anymore. You can’t hear them anymore. They… vanished.

You stood on the edge of where Grand Central Station used to be. Bob was in the center of it all—or what was left of him. 

You had found him, and it had gone bad. Catastrophically bad.

Yelena didn’t hesitate. She was the first one to go in. 

The others had followed—Alexei, John, Ava—one by one, swallowed whole by the nothingness.

Now it was just you and Bucky.

The edge of the Void shimmered like a heat mirage, the floor fracturing under it. 

You stared into the nothingness and it looked exactly how you’d felt the day Wakanda lost its king. The day Ramonda breathed her last breath in that throne room. The day you held Shuri’s hand as she lost everything.

And all you could think, selfishly, was how Bucky hadn’t been there.

You swallowed hard, voice barely more than a whisper. “I’m scared.”

Bucky looked at you, eyes softening.

You didn’t know what was on the other side. You didn’t know what you’d see— what the Void would show you, or take from you.

But for the first time in years, the love of your life reached out and took your hand. 

“If we vanish again,” he said quietly, “we vanish together.”

Right. 

Your fingers curled around his, Your voice barely trembled as you said it again, “Together.”

Then you stepped forward and let the Void take you both.

—

Bucky woke up in the snow.

He recognised this place even before he heard the screaming wind, before he looked down and saw his blood soaking into the white ground.

Bucky was twenty-something again—still Sergeant James Barnes. Still just a soldier, a friend, a smartass.

He was watching himself fall. Watching his arm catch on the railing, and breaking on impact. He watched his body spiral and bounce once before settling.

He tried to look away, but he couldn’t.

He remembered waiting for hours for help. No one came.

“I’m sorry,” Bucky whispered, but the younger version didn’t respond. He blinked once more and then stopped moving altogether.

Then, in an attempt to escape this vision, he buried himself in an avalanche of snow.

He woke up in another room. It was his apartment, familiar and claustrophobic at the same time. The curtains were drawn tight, the air thick with the scent of cheap whiskey 

And there he was — himself again. This Bucky was slouched on the floor, back against the wall, surrounded by a graveyard of bottles. Some still full. Most empty. The floor was soaked where he’d dropped one earlier.

He had a bottle pressed to his lips now. He took another long, angry swig. Then another. Then—

Nothing.

No burn. No warmth in his chest. No haze. He roared suddenly, launching the bottle across the room. It shattered against the wall. Glass rained down like glittering snow.

“Why won’t it work?” he shouted, voice hoarse. “Why won’t it fucking work?”

He lurched to his feet, fumbling for another bottle in the kitchen. His hands shook. His breathing was ragged.

“Just let me forget,” he begged, staring at his reflection in the microwave’s glass. “Let me forget. Let me be numb.”

But his body refused. His curse of super soldier metabolism was that he would never let him escape. He would never get drunk ever again.

He threw the next bottle harder. The glass cut his knuckles. He didn’t feel it.

He had only landed from Wakanda twelve hours ago. But this time, he landed with the knowledge that you were not his anymore. And now there was no one to fight with. No one to talk to. No one to hold his hand when the nightmares got bad. No one to anchor him when he spiraled.

He slid down the wall and pressed his forehead to his knees like he could disappear into his own body.

He whispered your name over and over again.

The most devastating part was knowing that he had finally found someone who saw him, and still, somehow, he had driven you away.

He stayed like that for what felt like hours. Days. Maybe he never left that floor at all.

Then — Bucky saw a ripple from a puddle across the room where he had spilled his drink earlier. 

He looked into it, and instead of a reflection, he saw you. 

You were curled up on a couch in another life, in another room. Fingers wrapped around a half-empty bottle. Your head lolling against the armrest, eyes glazed. Laughter bubbled out of your mouth that didn’t belong there — not the happy kind. This laughter was crooked, the kind you used to hide the sobs building beneath your ribs.

The bottle slipped from your fingers and onto the floor.

You were drunk. Not a buzz. Not a haze. You were gone, and it showed.

You started slurring words to no one and between fits of laughter. The makeup smeared across your cheek wasn’t from a night out — it was from wiping away tears with the back of your hand over and over again.

You were wrecked in a way Bucky couldn’t be.

You had the freedom he envied, the escape he was never allowed. You could bury the grief. He had to live with it. And then— he saw what you were clutching in your lap.

It was a photo of You, Bucky, Shuri, and T’challa, taken by Queen Ramonda by the lake, only a couple of days before Thanos attacked. 

You stared at the photo like it might move. Like if you looked hard enough, you could reach through the glossy paper and pull them out.

But they were gone.

T’Challa. Ramonda.

And Bucky.

He hadn’t died, but he wasn’t there either. Not when it mattered.

Your grip on the bottle tightened. And then—suddenly—you screamed. “WHY AREN’T YOU HERE?!”

The words tore out of you like glass, shredding you from the inside out.

You hurled the bottle across the room. It hit a wall, shattered, and splashed liquor across the floor. Your body jolted with it, like you’d thrown a piece of yourself.

And then you just collapsed yourself, rocking back and forth. “My fault,” you whispered over and over again. “My fault. All my fault. My fault.”

Bucky watched from the other side of the reflection, both of you broken in different ways—he, invulnerable and furious that he couldn’t feel the poison work; you, drowning in it.

The grief between you wasn’t just shared.

It was mirrored.

Both of you in your separate corners of the world, drinking like it might erase memory, like it might bring someone back, like it might turn regret into penance.

With a deep breath, he took a leap of faith and stepped into the puddle. 

It felt like falling like leaping off a rooftop with no guarantee of landing, but choosing the fall anyway because it might bring him back to you.

And he was right.

He was there, with the real you. 

You were in that room, in the corner, watching it all play out like a film you couldn’t pause.

That puddle had been more than a doorway. It had been a choice. And he had chosen you.

Bucky knelt down beside you slowly. He didn’t say anything at first. Just pulled you into him.

And for a moment, you didn’t move.

But then his arms wrapped around you, the walls gave in. Your fingers clutched at the back of his jacket and you buried your face into his shoulder.

You stayed like that for a while. 

Then, muffled against him, you said, “I should’ve called.”

He just held you tighter.

You continued. “You gave me flowers. A text. It wasn’t much, but… at least it was something. I didn’t even text back. I didn’t give you anything.”

Bucky pulled back slightly to look at you, his hands still resting gently on your shoulders. “No,” he said. “Don’t apologize. I—” He exhaled slowly, eyes dark and honest. “I was suffocating you. I… I ruined you.”

“You never ruined me, Bucky,” you said. “You broke my heart. But you never ruined me.”

Silence stretched again — for a while.

“I was scared I’d never see you again,” you admitted, quieter now. “That you’d disappear into some mission and I’d never get to tell you I was still… that I still— fuck… I—” Unable to finish your sentences, looked away instead, chewing the inside of your cheek. Then you asked what had been burning in the back of your throat this whole time: “Are we ever going to be okay again?”

His answer was quiet, immediate. “We already are.” He kissed your temple — not possessive or desperate, just… loving. 

You blinked up at him. “What?”

He smiled. “You’re here. I’m here. We’re talking. Yelling. Holding each other. That’s more than most people get.”

You chuckled, exhaling a shaky breath, forehead resting against his. “So what now?”

“Now?” he murmured. “We get up.”

Your hand slid down his arm and laced your fingers with his. “And what about the end of the world?”

He gave a half-laugh, half-sigh. “Right. That.”

You both stood, like people learning how to walk for the first time again.

He looked at you, wiping a tear from his cheeks. “C’mon,” he said, nodding toward the door. “Let’s go find Bob.”

And this time, you walked out together.

—

Post-Void. New York, again.

You’d done it. You’d pulled Bob out, helped him control the void inside of him. 

And just as the dust started to settle, Val ambushed you all with a press conference. She threw around the word New Avengers like it was already printed across a glossy magazine cover. 

Your phone immediately lit up like a Christmas tree.

Everett Ross: Did my EX-WIFE just put you in the New Avengers lineup? Why did you not tell me this?

You winced. Ex-wife. Of course.

Then, Shuri: ??? What is HAPPENING? Should I have not given Bucky your hotel?

And the kicker came from the current king of Wakanda himself.

M’Baku: Weren’t you on a foreign mission on behalf of Wakanda? You are now on AMERICAN NEWS? Call back immediately.

You groaned and thumbed your phone to Do Not Disturb.

The others were watching you now. Bob was still sitting in the sun. Yelena tried ignoring the cameras with practiced disinterest. 

Beside you, Bucky was catching his breath, hair tousled, jacket streaked with dust. 

“You wanna come back to my place?” he asked, pointing to your phone. “Make the calls from there, if this is too much.”

You blinked. “Don’t you live in D.C. now? Whole Capitol Hill, suit-and-tie Bucky?”

He shrugged, glanced at a hovering drone cam, and flipped it off without changing expression. “Kept my old apartment in Brooklyn. Rent controlled.”

You smirked, though the change in his heartbeat did not go unnoticed. “You’re sentimental.”

“No,” he chuckled. “I’m cheap. But if it helps, the water pressure is still garbage and the radiator still sounds like a haunted typewriter. Just like last time you were there.”

Before you could answer, Alexei called out from behind you. “Can we all come? Team debrief?”

You turned, and shook your head. “Top secret. I’ll find you later.”

Ava lifted a hand lazily. “She’s a tracker. She will.”

She was right. If anyone tried to disappear, you’d have them in an hour.

As you turned away with Bucky at your side, your super-hearing picked up everything. Far behind you, John Walker, never one for subtlety, muttered to someone — probably Yelena, “Twenty bucks says they’re back together by tonight. I mean, do you see how they look at each other?”

You kept walking. Bucky hadn’t heard it — his senses weren’t as sharp as yours, even with the serum.

You debated pretending you hadn’t either. 

—

You knew before he even unlocked the door that keeping this place wasn’t about rent control.

When it creaked as you walked, the first thing you could smell was remnants of yourself. 

The radiator still coughed in the corner like it was dying. Everything smelled faintly of old wood and clean laundry, and something faintly him — steel and cedar and memory.

Your breath hitched when you saw the shelf to your left still had your copy of Baldwin’s The Fire Next Time, the one Bucky swore he never borrowed.

Your old hoodie — the grey one with the thumb holes — was folded on the arm of the couch like you had just worn it yesterday.

The photos in the frames hadn’t changed. There was one of you and him, laughing in the sunset. One of Bucky, Sam, Steve, and T’challa with you and Shuri making faces while photobombing them. Then, a photo of you, him, Shuri, and T’challa— his copy of the one Ramonda had taken. 

Oh. 

The space was like a museum and a time capsule rolled into one.

You didn’t say anything at first.

You sat down at the kitchen table and pulled out your phone. A stack of voicemails and messages had piled up, still buzzing in the background. The world was catching up to what had just happened — the Void, Val’s PR machine spinning headlines while you were still scrubbing concrete dust out of your hair.

You answered M’Baku first, then Shuri, then Ross. But your eyes kept drifting to the photos, the jacket, the battered mug with the chipped rim that you used to have your coffee in, no matter how much it leaked.

Bucky stayed quiet. 

He didn’t hover. Just leaned against the counter with a mug in his hand that had long since gone cold.

When you finally finished the last call, you let out a deep breath. Your fingers tightened around the edge of the table. Then, you looked at him. “Rent control, huh?” you raised an eyebrow.

He blinked, looking down to his feet.

“You’re full of shit,” you added, gentler this time.

And Bucky chuckled his first real laugh since your reunion. He dropped his head for a second, shaking it slowly. “Yeah,” he said. “I guess I am.”

He stepped a little closer, leaning one hand on the table across from you. His other hand hovered, like he wanted to reach out but didn’t want to break whatever fragile platform you were both standing on.

“I kept thinking I’d throw it all out,” he said. “That I’d come back one day and finally… take it all down. Pack the clothes. Box up the books and mail them to you. But I never did.”

You looked down at your hands. You could feel his eyes on you.

“I think,” he said, quieter now, “that part of me thought… if I kept it all exactly the same, maybe you’d come back.”

Your throat tightened.

He ran a hand through his hair, his voice rough around the edges. “I don’t know how to do this. I’m not… good at this. At any of it. But I don’t want to keep pretending I don’t want you in my life .”

Silence stretched for a long moment.

Finally, you said, “Shuri told me something the other day.”

Bucky straightened a little.

“She was trying to explain quantum entanglement to me. That even when particles are separated by galaxies, they still feel each other. React to each other. Like distance doesn’t matter. Not really.” You met his eyes. “That’s us, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.” Bucky gave you a sad smile, “It’s us.”

You looked around the room again.

“I’m not ready,” you said. “I don’t know how to go back to what we were. I don’t even know if we should.”

“I don’t want what we were,” he said, without hesitation. “I want better.”

You studied him. He looked different than the last time you saw him — older, maybe. Not physically. But his eyes were angry. Less anxious.

You nodded. “Slow,” you said. “We take it slow.”

He looked… relieved. 

He didn’t step closer. He didn’t grab you or kiss you or make some grand statement. Instead, he reached out and gently rested two fingers against the back of your hand, just enough to feel you there.

“Okay,” he said.

And somehow, it was enough.

Not everything was fixed, but for the first time in a long time, you had him back in your life. —

You didn’t know what you expected when you landed in Wakanda. Maybe M’Baku would challenge you to one final sparring match and attempt to win the truth out of you with his bare hands. Maybe Shuri would yell. Maybe Okoye would look at you like a traitor.

But no one raised their voice, and that almost made it worse.

The throne room was still. M’Baku stood tall with his arms crossed. As you stepped forward, you tried to square your shoulders, trying to find the version of yourself that had once stood tall here— not as a visitor, not as a liability, but as someone who helped this nation rebuild from the blip, from the loss of their king, from the loss of their queen.

But your throat was dry. Your heartbeat thrummed in your chest. “I came to explain,” you said, voice thinner than you’d hoped.

“You do not need to,” M’Baku replied, his voice grave but not unkind.

You stopped, stunned by how final he sounded.

He descended the steps from the throne, each footfall echoing through the vibranium coated walls. “I regret to inform you that your contract with Wakanda is terminated,” he said. “Effective immediately.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but he lifted a hand before you could speak.

“You are now aligned with the New Avengers,” he said, reciting an uncomfortable truth. “You report to the CIA’s director. Your loyalties have shifted—by necessity, perhaps, but shifted nonetheless. Wakanda cannot afford blurred lines.”

Fuck. 

“I didn’t ask for the public announcement,” you said as a last line of defence. “Valentina made that move without consulting anyone.”

“And yet the world knows,” M’Baku answered. “Perception, as you know, is reality. The eyes of the world are on you now. And those eyes inevitably turn toward Wakanda.”

You lowered your gaze, heart dropping in your chest. “I understand.”

“But…” he continued, “I want you to know that you were never just a contract to us.”

When he stepped closer, his stance shifted. He wasn’t Wakanda’s king now. He was M’Baku— your sparring partner, your most stubborn friend, the man who once cracked your rib in training and called it ‘bonding.’

“You were family,” he said quietly. “You annoyed me more than any outsider I’ve ever met, and I will miss that more than you can imagine.”

Before you could speak, he pulled you into his arms and… hugged you.

You held onto him—tighter than you meant to. You didn’t want to let go. Wakanda had been more than a mission or a job. It had been your home. It was the place that gave you purpose when the rest of the world had hunted you. And now, with a few words and a king’s goodbye, it was slipping through your fingers.

“You’ll be alright, sister,” he reassured, voice. “You always land on your feet.” He pulled back just enough to smirk. “Like a very ugly cat with no grace.”

You laughed. Or maybe you cried. You weren’t sure.

—

Outside the throne room, Shuri was waiting.

She stood like she’d been pacing with her eyes trained on the floor— but when you appeared, her head snapped up. Okoye was beside her, and even her usual perfect posture had softened.

“I’m sorry,” Shuri said the moment your eyes met, brittle at the edges. “For giving Bucky your location.”

You let out a deep breath and a sad smile ghosted across your face. “Don’t be.”

“He said there was a threat,” she shook her head, stepping closer. “And he wasn’t wrong. But I didn’t know it would end…. like this. I thought I was helping.” Her voice broke slightly. “I thought I was giving you back something you’d lost.”

You shook your head. “You weren’t wrong.”

She didn’t look at all startled by that— as if she knew whatever hole had been carved into you by the loss of Wakanda had immediately been filled by Bucky coming back into your life, by the rest of the team that you found. 

“Every time I hit a wall,” you said, just above a whisper. “I throw myself into work and pretend I don’t need anyone.” Your voice cracked open without permission like a dam that had held too long.

“But maybe…” You glanced down, then up at her. “Maybe it’s time I stop pushing away the people who love me. Maybe it’s time I meet them halfway and let them care for me.” You took her hand, “like you do.”

Shuri stared at you like sunlight through storm clouds— equal parts pride and heartbreak.

“Bucky cares,” she said. “Do not let each other slip away this time.”

You swallowed hard.

Okoye, always watching, always knowing, stepped forward.

“He is better,” she said, almost approvingly. “He has learned how to breathe without you. Perhaps it is precisely the reason you need him again. And he might just remind you that life is not all about survival and contracts— it is meant to be lived.”

You tried to blink away the sudden sting in your eyes. “Okoye…” you managed.

She raised a finger in warning. “Do not make me cry, girl.”

That startled a snorting laugh from Shuri.

You smiled. Just a little.

—

Two days later, Bucky helped you move into Avengers Tower.

He smiled sadly when he spotted your duffel bag on the curb beside a single, battered box.

“That’s it?” he asked, easily lifting the box labeled in your unmistakable handwriting: SENTIMENTAL SHIT.

You raised an eyebrow. “You expected me to have more emotional baggage?”

He let out a small laugh, missing your sense of humour. “I meant literal baggage. But…” he glanced down at the label, the corner of his mouth twitching, “…noted.”

You fell into step beside him, entering the still-mostly-empty tower. The echo of your footsteps followed you down halls that smelled like fresh paint and industrial cleaner. A few rooms were already occupied—Bob’s, Ava’s, and an unnamed office space—but yours was at the far end of the residential floor: a bit secluded, sunlit, and overlooking New York in a way that felt almost too generous.

You dropped your duffel onto the bed with a sigh. He set the box on the desk and stood back, studying in the space like he was mentally filing it away for future reference.

“You alright?” he asked softly.

You shrugged, arms crossing out of reflex. “I guess. Feels… weird.”

“What does?”

“Living out of Wakanda.” You glanced at him. “It’s even weirder being around you like this.”

“Like what?”

“Friends,” you said, with a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “That’s what we are now, right?”

“I guess so.” He gave a gentle laugh, scratching the back of his head. “Friends who know exactly how the other one likes their coffee.”

You smiled for real then. “Friends who have seen each other naked. And cry. And leave.”

His voice was quieter now. “And come back.”

—

Two days later, the tower was silent after midnight.

It didn’t feel like a base yet—more like a draft of a memory— place still deciding what it wanted to be. The lights in the common room were dimmed to an amber gold. Somewhere down the hall, a ventilation unit clicked and sighed like an old house learning how to breathe again.

You couldn’t sleep.

You’d unpacked your bag. Stacked your few books with spines you knew by heart. Hung your jacket on the back of the door and lined up your toiletries with mathematical precision, like symmetry might trick your brain into believing this was home.

But your body didn't buy it yet, So you wandered barefoot down the hallway in an oversized sweatshirt—the same one Bucky had given you all those years ago.

You found him in the common room, curled into one corner of the couch, damp hair curling at the ends from a recent shower and mug of tea cradled between his metal fingers,

He looked up when he saw you. “You too, huh?”

“Sleep is a myth,” you said, plopped onto the cushion beside him. 

He handed you the mug. You didn’t hesitate before sipping— he used to share drinks with you all the time. The tea was warm, chamomile and honey, just the way you used to make it for him when he couldn’t sleep.

You let the heat sink into your palms for a few seconds longer than necessary before handing it back.

“This place is too clean,” you said at last. 

Bucky nodded. “Won’t be for long. Alexei just moved in. Give it two days before something explodes.”

You snorted. “I give it twelve hours.”

That made him laugh, as he leaned his head back against the couch cushion and looked up, like he could see constellations through the ceiling. You looked at him and, for a second, you imagined  you were both back in his hut again, painting stars on the ceiling with glow-in-the-dark stickers and half a bottle of wine.

“Remember that night by the river?” you asked.

His eyes flicked to yours. “The one after T’challa’s birthday dinner?”

You smiled. “Yeah. We dragged the blankets out and tried to sleep under the open sky. You brought out your old army jacket. I stole your pillow.”

He didn’t say anything for a second. Slowly, he reached out, brushing his fingertips across yours. 

—

The next few months passed easily.

You and Bucky slipped back into some old habits. Mornings were for training. Afternoons often ended in sparring sessions and conversation. And in the hours in between, you found each other again and again— sometimes late night tea. Sometimes, you'd leave a book by your door. SOmetimes, he’d put in your favourite movie after a stressful day.He never made a big deal out of it, and neither did you. It wasn’t discussed. It simply was.

Of course, the team noticed.

Ava, subtle as a brick, started running a betting pool in the group chat on who would initiate getting back together. She never said who the odds favored, but winked at you every time you entered a room with Bucky in tow.

John grumbled about “weird tension” on mission briefings, mostly because he lost his first bet. Even Bob— still learning how to survive in a household of ex-spies, assassins, and super-soldiers—picked up on it. One morning over coffee, he glanced at you, then at Bucky, then said, completely unprompted, “You breathe easier when he’s around.”

You blinked at him, stunned. He just sipped his coffee and went back to his crossword.

But the real kicker came at breakfast, a few weeks later.

You were barely awake, slouched at the long kitchen island in the tower. Bucky sat beside you, reading news with a tablet in hand.

Yelena walked in, grabbed a banana, and without hesitation said, “So. When are you two getting back together?”

You nearly choked on your tea. Bucky froze mid-scroll. You coughed for a solid ten seconds before managing, hoarsely, “I—what?”

Yelena leaned on the counter. “Please. The movie nights? The sparring together all the time? You are basically together.”

Bucky cleared his throat. “We’re… talking. Taking it slow.”

Yelena squinted at him like he was the world’s worst liar. “Slow like friends slow, or slow like ‘you slept in her room after the Prague mission and thought no one noticed’ slow?”

You could feel the heat rising to your cheeks. Bucky stared at the ceiling like he was considering defenestration.

“I—I didn’t—we didn’t—” you stammered.

“She had a nightmare,” Bucky said valiantly. “I stayed in her armchair.”

Yelena raised her eyebrows. “How noble. You’ll be married by June.”

And with that, she bit into her banana and walked out as if she hadn’t just casually set your entire life on fire before 8 a.m.

You stared at the doorway for a long time before turning to Bucky. “We are never living that down.”

He smiled, just a little. “She’s not wrong, though.”

You tilted your head. “About what?”

He shrugged. “About the slow part not really being all that slow anymore.”

That shut you up, but not in a bad way.

—

The day it had finally happened, though, you’d been in the tower’s comms room, backlit by flickering screens, teeth clenched as you watched the mission feed buffer and skip. Bucky and John were on the field on recon and containment. It should be routine. No reason to worry.

You told yourself it was fine. You knew Bucky could handle himself. You’d said it a hundred times.

But then the feed glitched again. Then John mentioned gunfire and Bucky’s comms went dark.

The jet returned fifteen minutes later, skidding onto the landing pad. You were already waiting there when they brought him in.

Bucky.

His combat suit was torn, blood soaking through the thigh, gashes deep in his side. His vibranium arm was scorched, still hissing faintly from an energy blast. And yet… he was awake. Breathing. He gave you a small smile, somehow, even when the poor nurse wheeled him into the med bay. You ran to follow

He could’ve died. And you weren’t there.

That’s when you saw John.

“You were supposed to watch his six!” you shouted at him before you could even register how much you meant them. “Do you even know what a field partner does, or do you just wing it and hope the super soldiers heal fast enough?”

John blinked, surprised. “Jesus, I didn’t—”

“Don’t!” you snapped. “You were with him! He had your back—where the hell were you?”

“He told me to take the high ground!” John barked, his voice rising. “I didn’t know they had long-range fire!”

“It’s literally your job to know!” Your skin felt like they were on fire now. “Do you even remember the brief? You think because he’s got the Hydra serum he can take every shot for you?”

“Hey.”You heard Bucky say from the bed behind you. “Relax.”

Your head snapped toward him. “Relax?”

He half-winced as a doctor pulled a bullet fragment from his thigh. His breathing was shallow, but the corner of his mouth tugged upward in dry amusement

“Yeah. Relax. You’re doing that thing.”

You narrowed your eyes. “What thing?”

“You sound like me back in the day,” he managed to say, letting his head fall back on the pillow. “God. The role reversal’s kinda scary.”

And just like that, you shut up.

He did used to do this. When you were still together. When it was you on the field and him pacing the halls of the palace like a caged wolf. Every bruise you got, he catalogued. Every mission report, he read twice. When you brushed off injuries, he’d pull you aside and look at you like you'd died and no one told him.

And now here you were, standing over him, boiling over like your heart had been under for years.

“It’s different,” you whispered under your breath. “You were obsessed.”

Bucky opened his eyes again, squinting slightly. “What?”

You could hear the beeping of monitors overwhelming you. You could taste the metallic tang of blood and antiseptic. “You were obsessed,” you said, a bit louder, “I’m freaking out over bullets. You used to freak out over a scratch.”

He gave a nod, not flinching. “Yeah. I know.” He shrugged. “Wasn’t healthy. But I cared.” But then his tone shifted. “And you don’t get to talk to John like that.”

You took a step back, caught off-guard. “Are you serious?”

“He’s not perfect,” he said, matter-of-fact.

“Wow,” John interjected under his breath, “Thanks.” 

Bucky paid him no mind “But he tried. This wasn’t on him.”

You pressed your fingers into your temple, trying to breathe. “I know, I just—I didn’t know what else to do, Buck.”

You looked at him then, and all the fire in your chest dimmed into ash. He looked… tired. Older. Stronger, too. But there was something in his eyes—some flicker of the man you left behind. 

Bucky glanced toward John. “Give us the room when they’re done, yeah?”

John, for once, didn’t argue. He just nodded and backed out, probably relieved.

The door shut with a hiss, and you waited until the doctors had finished stitching him up and giving him the okay to rest before you walked back to his side, a little more tired, a little more human.

You sat on the edge of the bed. Your hand found his immediately, as if it was instinct. His skin was warm and he smelled like bullets and iron, the way it always got when he’d been running on too much adrenaline and too little self-preservation.

“Is this okay?” you asked, voice barely more than a whisper.

He nodded before reaching for you with both hands in that familiar, greedy way he always used to, like he couldn't stand another second without you touching. “C’mere,” he said.

So you climbed carefully onto the too-small mattress beside him, your body curving into his like muscle memory. You avoided the bruised side, settling in close with your head tucked beneath his chin, just where it used to belong. His wrapped his arm around you.

Your palm rested over his chest, right above his heart. It beat steady, and you wondered if it ever really stopped beating for you.

He breathed in your hair. "You always smell like home," he whispered, so quiet you almost missed it.

You watched the little cuts and bruises heal on their own, bit by bit. His lashes fluttered like he was teetering on the edge of sleep — then opened again, just to make sure you were still there.

You stayed tucked beneath his chin for a long while. Eventually, you spoke, your voice muffled into his chest. “I didn’t mean to scream at Walker,” you said with a small laugh. “Or be… so overbearing. Like you used to be.” You peeked up at him with a sideways smile. “Funny, right?”

Bucky chuckled. “I deserved that,” he smiled, rubbing slow circles against your back with his human thumb

You swallowed, then pulled away just enough to look at him properly.

“I just…” You hesitated, choosing your words carefully, like they mattered. Because they did. “For the first time in a long time, work isn’t the most important thing to me.” You reached up and gently brushed your fingers along the edge of the bruise on his cheeks. “You are.”

“I know,” he said, voice rough. “And I… I just wanted you to know I never stop caring — just didn’t know how to care right.”

You both laughed a little at that — sad and sweet, like the punchline to a very old joke.

“Remember that time you hacked into a satellite feed because I missed one check-in?” you teased, smirking.

Bucky groaned, his cheeks turning pink. “Okay, first of all, it was a tactical recon satellite, I didn’t hack it, I borrowed a login.”

“Oh, that makes it better,” you said, eyes sparkling. “You bribed M’Baku with a reservation at a two Michelin Star vegan restaurant just because I didn’t text ‘safe’ fast enough.”

“I was worried,” he shook his head, then, quieter, “You didn’t answer for four hours.”

“I know,” Your brows relaxed again. “I know you were trying to love me. I just… couldn’t let myself be loved like that back then.”

Bucky reached up and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “Are you now?”

You smiled, eyes filling up with a puddle of tears.“Well,” you said, voice a little wobbly, “Only if we meet halfway.”

He smiled, and god, it was like the sun rose just for you.

“Okay,” he agreed, leaning in until you could taste the air he breathed.

Just before your lips touched, he stopped. “You sure?” he asked, looking down at your lips.

Your heart was pounding so hard you were sure he could feel it through your chest.

You nodded. “I’m sure.”

He didn’t move yet.

“You sure you’re sure?” he whispered, voice lower now. His fingers had tightened just slightly at your waist, anchoring you there,but he just needed to give you one last chance to run — but you didn’t take it.

“Bucky…” you whispered, and the way you said his name answered everything for him.

“Okay,” he said, more a sigh than a word. “Okay.”

Then he kissed you.

It was heat and hunger that only two people who had been starved of each other, who’d tasted what it was like to be apart and never wanted to go back could feel. His mouth claimed yours like he needed to make sure you were his and you kissed him back just as fiercely, just as desperate to prove that you were.

You curled your fingers into the collar of his tac vest, pulling him closer, and he groaned against your lips. His metal hand slid up your back, and his other hand cupped your cheek and pulled you closer

And he kept saying it between kisses, like a litany, “You’re sure?”

You answered with another kiss. Deeper now, borderline bruising.

“You’re sure?” he asked again

“I’m sure.” Your lips parted on a gasp, and you nodded, forehead pressed to his. “I’m so sure, Buck, I— I never stopped—”

His mouth was on yours again before you could finish, and it didn’t matter. His thumb traced your cheek like he was re-learning you all over again, when he realized he still remembered all the ways you liked to be kissed. When you finally pulled back, breathless, he looked at you like you’ve been to hell and back for him.

“God, I missed this,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I missed you so bad, doll.”

You smiled, blinking back the tears that weren’t sad at all. “I missed you worse.”

He grinned, all wrecked and completely in love.

You kissed again, gentler this time, remembering how good it felt to be known by each other again.

Which was exactly when the door slid open with a cheerful whoosh.

“—Bucky! I was gonna check on—oh,” came Alexei’s voice, suddenly flat as pancake batter left too long on the griddle.

You froze, lips still an inch from Bucky’s. Your heart leapt straight into your throat, and you turned slowly toward the door, horror across both your faces.

Alexei stood there, blinking once, before giving the slowest nod known to man. His hands were crossed on his chest, looking too smug for his own good.

“Well,” he said, dragging his voice out. “Well. I’m going to tell team it finally happened!”

Bucky let out the deepest, most resigned sigh imaginable and let his head thunk back against the pillow. “Can you please wait until I’m discharged?”

“Nonsense!” Alexei said brightly, already halfway down the hallway. “Ava owes me twenty American dollars. And John will make that face. You know the one.”

You groaned and buried your face in Bucky’s chest, playfully mortified. 

“Back then,” he chuckled, lips brushing your hair, “I would've fought him for interrupting.”

You peeked up at him, “And now?”

He smiled. “Now I’m just glad you’re here.”

-end.

[starksvixen]

shall I? SHALL. I.

[starksvixen]

AYO THE TENSION JUST IN CHAPTER 1?! You’ve got me hooked. 10/10 already.

vigilante like me

chapter one: never thought i'd meet you here

pairing: matt murdock x black widow!fem!reader

series summary: nights and nights of playing the hero as if that could redeem you that easily ended up taking you to new york, where you accidentally met the man who would turn your world upside down: a vigilante like you.

warnings/tags: angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, injuries, phd in applied flirting and ma in yearning studies, some smut (minors dni), takes place sometime during the blip, when born again comes out we might find out if my decisions of who were gone were right, spoilers/references of stuff and themes from daredevil (2015); avengers: infinity war (2018); avengers: endgame (2019) black widow (2021); and hawkeye (2021), but y'all must've watched all of those already so idc, yelena belova and the themes and events from the black widow (2021) movie are very relevant in this plot, song: cowboy like me (taylor swift)

word count: 2K

✰ chapter two | chapter three | chapter four | chapter five | chapter six | chapter seven | chapter eight

lmk if u wanna be added to the taglist!

✰ mila's anthology (main masterlist)

It was a Tuesday night.

Chilly, worthy of the cold New York autumn. Demanding, worthy of a vigilante’s night in Hell's Kitchen.

Despite the deserved celebration of his latest victory in court, Matt lies on a rooftop in distress instead, hearing every noise that the city that never sleeps had to offer, all in search of help.

On the opposite side of the rooftop, you walked past the unconscious men who had just tried to kill him, humming a song you had heard earlier there somewhere; a melody whose origin you couldn’t quite identify, but that was more than enough to calm Matt down, even the smallest bit.

You wished to hear it again some other time. You kept humming it as you approached the man in a red that seemed maroon under the black night. There was only one streetlight working, and the others were either completely off or lighting up intermittently. You are used to it. That is your building, after all.

The helmet with a neat relief on each side that mocked horns gave away the identity of the hero Hell's Kitchen has known for some years now, one you became familiar with as you read newspapers and watched the news. You had never encountered him before and never thought you'd meet him here, especially like this: bloody and unconscious.

Perhaps it was the hero in you or the guilt eating you alive from within since you first awoke that one day, but you kneeled before him either way.

When Yelena found you, you felt like you wished she never had. Now, you were aware of what you had done and of the fact that you belonged nowhere. Then, you helped her find the other widows and, during one particular mission, followed her to the bathroom after noticing how uncomfortable she got at the mention of her sister Natasha and the prospect of a Sex and the City fantasy lifestyle as soon as they reunited in New York. She vanished in front of you, and with her abrupt absence, you ran in panic without looking back. You stopped searching for the widows soon after that, fearing the memory of Yelena would come to surface again and the void would grow bigger. However, that did not mean you could live in peace.

You decided to find a purpose for yourself, so you ended up in a shitty apartment in Hell's Kitchen, New York, with a decent job as a kickboxing instructor at Fogwell's Gym, and a night shift as a vigilante. Some days, you were pretty sure you only did it for the hell of it because you were aware that trying to be a hero wasn't helping you feel better about yourself and forget the terrors that haunted you at night more often than not.

That led you there that night in your shitty apartment reading One Hundred Years of Solitude and stopping upon hearing a fight right above you. Tuesday nights are your vigilante-ing free days, but soon after, you were on the rooftop of your building, fighting the men who were hitting another man to death. You did not know what had happened, but you did know you had to stop it before somebody died.

Then, those men were lying on the floor in a pool of their own blood and you were dragging the Devil of Hell's Kitchen to your apartment silently.

You checked his pulse and it was weak but still there, which was what really mattered. After, you debated whether to take his suit and helmet off to cure his possible wounds and bruises. You didn't want to invade his privacy by taking off his mask, but you couldn't leave his wounds to infect or for him to bleed dry. Eventually, you removed his suit and left him lying on your sofa in his underwear.

An infinity of wounds, scars, and bruises covered his pale skin. You admired the resilience of his body as you used water and wet cotton to clean his open wounds, then surrounded them with alcohol, stitched him, and then patched him up. You turned him over and did the same on his back and then his legs, and you wondered how a man as skilled as him ended up injured like this.

Finally, you took off his helmet and revealed his face. It took you a minute to take everything in, but you came back to Earth and repeated the process on his face. He was undeniably handsome.

You felt guilty for thinking so.

That protective and paranoid side of you awoke and checked for the windows and the door to be locked. You went to your room to get two pillows and two blankets, and proceeded to make sure the Devil was comfortable and warm. You saved your first aid kit, cleaned the blood on your floor and your hands, and left an apple, water, and acetaminophen on the coffee table. Finally, you fell asleep on your sofa beside him to keep an eye on him.

The next morning, Daredevil wasn't where you left him, just like you had anticipated. The apple and the pill were missing too, and the glass was half empty.

The name was Jean Kane. The newest kickboxing student you'll have to handle from now on. Your newest obstacle as well.

“I didn't ask for a girl,”

You rolled your eyes. “Did you specifically sign up for training with a specific instructor, Mr. Kane?”

“No, but it goes without saying,” he replied, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I am a man and I require an instructor that can train a man.”

“I am an instructor that can surely train a man. I have knocked out many men four times your size before, and you don't know shit about me, so why are you underestimating my abilities, huh?”

“Darling, with all due respect, you won't be able to handle me.”

“With all due respect, which is none, you will have to take that back before you regret it,”

He frowned, feigning confusion. “Why would I regret anything, darling? I'm just asking for an instructor that is qualified to train me.”

“If you dare call me darling ever again, I will-”

“What's going on?”

You stopped your threat as soon as your friend Louis approached you.

“Finally, someone who can train me properly!”

Louis made one of those faces that speak more than a thousand words. “You mean that she can't train you well?”

“Exactly my point.”

“Huh,” Louis nodded. “Well, I am here a bit earlier and was hoping I could do a thing or two. If it's okay with you, you could wait ten minutes until the other instructor's class ends and give me your appointment, please.”

He scoffed. “Of course. It seems like you're a man who wants it easy either way. Fighting a girl just like that.”

“Miss Volkova is actually a professional boxer who retired because she almost killed someone,” Louis shrugged as if he wasn't shamelessly lying and put on his gloves. “A true life-changing experience.”

“Thanks for that,” you said.

“Nothing in life is free,” he replied casually. “You gotta pay me with a drink at Josie’s tonight, will you?”

“Stay on budget.” You winked at him before taking an offensive position and preparing to show off your fighting skills.

He gave the first hit, but you dodged it easily. Not even a second passed until you returned the blow too quickly for Louis to avoid. He groaned and hit you back, and this time it touched you but not harshly enough to make you flinch. The match ended soon after when Louis asked for a break.

“You got too excited,” he mentioned with a smirk, motioning to his abdomen with a hurting expression.

“Sorry, I had to prove a point,” you apologized. “What if we make it two drinks?”

Louis smiled. “I'll take that.”

Mr. Kane wasn't there when you turned around.

“You did prove your point,”

You chuckled. “Let's continue with your training.”

Time flew and soon you were at Josie's bar finishing your second beer.

“So yeah, I hope that guy doesn't go back to Fogwell's,”

“If he dares speak to me again I will beat his ass so hard he won't need anymore classes because he won't have any functioning limbs left to use.”

“That could also leave you imprisoned.”

“It could,” You nodded. “I don't think I'd keep my job, too, so there's that.”

Louis scoffed. “I think you'd have a valid excuse.”

“You and I are the only ones who find that valid.”

“A beer, please.” a man ordered beside you as he took a seat. You didn't look at him, you didn't mean to, but it felt somehow that he interrupted your conversation. Louis kept ranting about ethics, but you could only feel the stranger's presence near you.

And then you gathered the courage to turn around as if you were looking at the door and saw him.

Josie scoffed. “You need to be more careful. Anybody would think somebody beat the crap out of you.”

He chuckled. “I am clumsy.”

“I bet, Murdock.”

One thing you were lucky about is how self centered Louis could be. He could just talk for hours as if he were in a one man show and not notice that the other person isn't in the crowd; that gave you the freedom to just stare at Murdock and the bruises you remember to have cured well past midnight the very same day.

“I might be blind but I still can feel you staring, by the way.” he commented, turning his head to face you, and somehow he was even more handsome than you could recall.

You stared in mocking disbelief. “I have the feeling that you're too full of yourself.”

“What can I say? I had a good day.”

“Good for you, man.”

He smiled cockily, almost succeeding in pretending your disinterest didn't bother him. “Josie, could you give her another beer?”

“How do you even know if I'm having a beer?”

“Well,” He got close to you, and now you felt his warm breath against your neck. It gave you goosebumps. “Your breath gave it away, Stella Artois.”

You exhaled, feeling your heartbeat faster than you are willing to accept. You took a sip of the new Stella Artois beer, hoping for the cold drink to keep you cool. “That is impressive, I'll give you that.”

“Matt.”

You've got a full name now: Matt Murdock. You told him yours.

“That is an interesting last name. Slavic?”

You hummed. “Yeah. Russian.”

“It's a pleasure.”

“Thanks. I don't know if I'm ready to say that back just yet, though.”

Matt chuckled. “It shouldn't be that hard since didn't say I loved you or something.”

“But it was close enough.”

“Could you just say it back to spare my feelings?”

“Should I pity you, Matt?”

“Yes, please.”

You shook your head slightly. “FYI: I don't do pity, I just don't give a shit. Do you want me to not give a shit?”

“Not if I can help it,” Matt smirked.

“Is that a new one?” Louis’ question brought you back to reality and snapped you out of your conversation with Matt. “I'll tell Josie to put it on my tab.”

“Don't worry about it,” Matt interrupted him. “That one was on me.”

“Oh,” Louis muttered, a little uncomfortable. “I didn't-”

“I'm sorry. Are you two together?”

“Well…”

“No.” you rushed to say, and Louis was notoriously offended at your quick response.

“I see,” he hummed. “Metaphorically, though. It's clear I don't see.”

You supressed a laugh with a loud exhale.

“It's okay, sweetheart,” Matt got close like he did earlier. “You can laugh.”

You chuckled softly. “You're too cocky, I'm not all that pleased to meet you.”

“We'll see about that,” he raised his brows. “Metaphorically.”

“You gentlemen have a good night,” You stood up promptly with a smile. “And take care of yourselves. Hell's Kitchen is hell at night.”

You placed enough bills to pay for your drinks, Louis’, and Matt's.

[starksvixen]

🚨SPOILER🚨

foggy dead, karen gone, she and matt not talking, matt in a corporate office that’s not nelson murdock and page, saying he barely goes to hell’s kitchen anymore - i used to have nightmares about this.

[starksvixen]

love ur work!! r u coming back soon? /gen

Bro I don’t know how old this is but I legit just logged back into my Tumblr account for the first time in like, years and yes, I’m writing again babes ❤️

[starksvixen]

Titan Trackers

Summary: The unlikeliest of parties brings you and Levi together.

Pairing: Levi Ackerman x fem!Reader, Zoe Hange x fem!Reader (platonic)

Request: No

Warnings: Some language, usual AOT violence but not explored in detail

A/N: Have I fallen for Captain Levi Ackerman? Yes. Do I regret it? Absolutely not. Is the dog based off of my own dog? Why not!

You had joined the scouts the same time Hange did, the pair of you standing out as the smartest amongst the bunch of cadets you were lumped with.

As the years passed, you two stuck together. Even as Hange advanced through the ranks with you, they never left you behind. When they eventually became Captain, Hange immediately made you their assistant.

It had been like that for years, except you had an experiment of your own now.

You always had a soft spot for animals, there were always stray ones running around the city streets. It broke your heart to see how starving they were, or how some were mistreated.

Levi saw this as you returned home after quite the grueling mission. Despite the Captain's stoic nature, he had a soft spot for you. One that everyone picked up on except you

So when you woke up the next morning surrounded by stray dogs, to say you were surprised was an understatement.

Rushing downstairs in your gear, it was like the floodgates of fur had opened as about 7 different dogs followed suit. Your mind was still spinning. How did they get here? Who the hell even let them in?

Nevertheless, you snuck into the kitchen, trying to be subtle enough as to send them on their way with full bellies. However, the pointing noses and little sniffs gave your location away to the Captain.

He slipped into the room with the mumble of something under his breath along the lines of "filthy animals."

But as you turn away from the rice and eggs you were cooking, you noticed the white hair clinging to his normally pristine cape that belonged to one of the dogs. Certainly, he hadn't brushed against one of the dogs?

That's when you heard a squeal from outside the kitchen doors

"THEY'RE SO ADORABLE! I'm going to name you Sneaky and oh! Yes, I'm going to name you Bean Jr. What do you think Bean Jr?"

After that morning, you knew that between Captain Levi and Commander Erwin the dogs would be gone by the next morning.

But the days turned into weeks, and after close to a month of helping the dogs regain their strength, something downright miraculous happened.

Hange said that you could keep them.

According to what the Commander had relayed, as long as they served a purpose for the Survey Corps, they could stick around.

So you quickly got to work. Some you trained to be guard dogs, others became like the sled dogs you read in books, hauling ODM equipment around the compound, and some even became companions for particularly nervous horses.

But there were a few chosen dogs you knew had something special. These ones seemed to be more aware, their senses more keenly attuned.

It was originally Levi who gave you the idea of how to train them.

You had invited the Captain for another evening stroll with the dogs. As much as he pretended to begrudgingly follow you, pretending like the nightly ordeal was a pain to him, he secretly enjoyed this part of his evening. He had warmed up to the dogs slowly but surely. But more importantly, he warmed up seeing the smile on your face when he joined you every evening.

This night, however, he could see you were deep in thought. As the dogs ran around the compound, letting loose after a long day of work or training, he walked beside you as your quiet pondering turned into stewing.

"Spit it out, brat. It looks like that little brain of yours is ready to explode."

You sigh softly, watching as the same three you had known to be special gently nudged you, not wanting to leave your side, especially in a distressed state.

"These three," you gesture towards them. "they still have no job. They just don't seem to fit. But I don't have the heart to send them back to the streets."

Levi's gaze fell to the three, quietly watching as they followed your side as loyal as ever. As you continued your walk in silence, you came across something you never saw anymore.

A deer.

Now while the other dogs were playing, clueless to the still doe standing and watching your rag tag group, there were a select few looking back over at the deer. Pointing, signalling to its presence, urging you to look over.

Confused, you followed their gaze and saw the deer, your eyes opened in awe of the rare sighting.

"Dogs, fetch."

Suddenly, the three blitzed from your side and ran towards the deer, nipping at its heels with vigour. As both you and Levi watched, they worked together so that instead of chasing it back into the nearby woods, they were herding it towards the two of you at an incredibly fast pace.

Before the doe could trample you in your state of shock, Levi grabbed onto your waist and using his ODM gear, anchored you and him to a nearby tree, narrowly missing the panicked deer.

With heavy breath, you clutched onto him as an idea hit you and you whispered:

"Titan trackers."

After Levi showed you the potential of the little group, you quickly got to work. In a short amount of time, the dogs (who you had so lovingly come to call Beanie, Thrawn, and Jasper) were ready for the field.

When you approached Commander Erwin with your idea, you were instantly shot down.

"Titan territory is no place for you mutts, Lieutenant."

Seeing you so crushed about Erwin's reaction, let's say Levi had a conversation with the commander.

The next day, the approval paperwork had magically appeared on your desk.

From that day on, you had your dogs on the field. And my had it paid off. Many deaths had been prevented thanks to them.

With their quick warning of nearby Titans, it gave the squads the upper hand. And with Hange's intuitive vests she had built for them, the dogs were armed to cut deep into a Titan's ankle, immobilizing them without crushing the dog!

And what you could never see coming was the day those three helped Levi save your life.

Despite Beanie, Thrawn and Jasper's work of warning you of the impending heard of abnormals, Levi and your squad quickly became overwhelmed. In the chaos, you had been split from the group, with innumerable injuries littering your battered and bruised body.

By the time Levi had regrouped near the walls, so close to safety, it had already been hours. So when he realized that you weren't accounted for, his heart dropped.

In his panic, he failed to listen to the incessant whining the golden trio had been giving off while following his pacing form. However, the high-pitched noise was grinding on what thing nerves the Captain already had. So by the fifth or sixth whine, he lashed towards them:

"Go lay down and let me think!"

Beanie, ever so gently, nudged Levi's hand and looked up at him with his soulful black eyes, almost as if to convey the own pain he felt that he didn't know where you were.

Levi, with a tearful sigh, patted his head when the thought struck him. Quickly rushing over to his horse, he ripped the small piece of fabric out of one of his travel pouches while mounting the beast. It was a gift from you to keep his blades clean, but he had yet to use it.

He whistled, bringing the boys over. Leaning down, he let them all get a good sniff before mumbling to them quietly:

"Find her."

Just like that, the three of them ran as fast as their legs could take them in one direction. In the direction of you. And Levi was right behind them on his horse.

It was late that night when he found you, hiding in a house in an abandoned town, weak but alive. The three dogs laid by your bleeding form, nudging your hands, laying their heads on their thighs while waiting for your next command. With what little strength your body had stored, you managed to mumble out:

"I'm okay boys."

Giving each of them a small scritch on the head, you let a weak smile grace your face. Levi rushed in, seeing the dogs guarding you, and a trembling sigh leaves his lips.

"You're not allowed to scare me like that, brat."

With a weak chuckle, you mumble something incoherent as your blood loss catches up to you. As gingerly as he could, he lifts you from the ground and slowly makes his way back onto his horse, holding your weak form close to his chest the entire way home with dogs in tow.

Nearly three days later, you finally regained full consciousness, the previous days being a blur. The morning sun was streaming in through the curtains but as your eyes focused, you recognized them as Levi's curtains.

"Welcome to the land of the living."

Slowly looking to your side, you see what you can only recognize as a severely sleep-deprived Levi. He sits in his office chair beside the bed, surrounded by paperwork he had been doing to keep himself busy. Through his bored expression, you could see the worry sitting deep inside him.

"I really scared you didn't I, Captain?" you croak with a grin.

"Yeah, you did," he says while laying the paperwork to the side. "I wouldn't have been able to find you without them."

He gestures to the three dogs slumbering by your side, one curled into a tight ball while the others are sprawled out. The dogs were laying on Levi's pristinely clean bedding.

"They haven't missed their nightly walk. None of them have. I made sure they were taken care of." Levi says while leaning back in his chair.

"But Cap-"

"Levi, just call me Levi,"

A blush overtakes your cheeks.

"Okay, Levi," you say tentatively, testing out the name. "They're shedding on your bed."

"Bedding can be washed...or replaced."

You chuckled weakly at the comment.

"But you can't, (Y/N). And I know how much you love these three. No matter how dirty they are."

You look at him softly, letting the cogs in your head turn in overtime at Levi's words. Before you could open your mouth, Levi stands.

"Don't overthink it, you need your rest. I'll go get us some tea and I'll get the dogs their biscuits."

Like he had done it a million times before, he leans down and lays a ginger kiss on the top of your head and whispers.

"I'm glad you're safe...brat,"

With a soft grin, you watch as he leaves his quarters before turning your attention to the sleeping pile of puppies sprawled across the bed.

Sure, years from now, in the history books other men had written, these three would be known as Titan Trackers, an innovative tool that resulted in the Scout Regiment's successful recapture of many territories.

But to you and Levi? Well, Beanie, Thrawn and Jasper held a special place in your heart.

They kept the two of you alive long enough for you to finally clear the air on your feelings towards one another. And once the walls had fallen, they spent their retirement watching your kids run around the house you had called home.

And as you sit in the backyard, watching Levi chase after Kuchel with your young toddler Hange in tow, you gently pet the three dogs laid in various positions around you, Jasper's face pressed impossibly close to your bump.

So yes, they were the world's Titan Trackers. But to you and Levi, they helped track down your happy ending.

[starksvixen]

<- starkvixen's masterlist

Request

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Levi Ackerman

Titan Trackers

[starksvixen]

~starksvixen masterlist~

requests

Marvel

Star Wars

Outer Banks

One Chicago

MHA

Resident Evil

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AOT

[starksvixen]

𝐣𝐮𝐧𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲 | 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧

you’re a single mom living three trailers down. eddie thinks you’re the prettiest girl he’s ever seen. fem!reader

part one [15k]

part two [15k]

part three [9k]

part four [10k]

[starksvixen]

Little Moments

Summary: A typical morning with Shouta and your little family.

Pairing: Shouta Aizawa x fem!reader

Power/Quirk: Telepathic Illusions, Memory/Conscious Manipulation,

Request: No

Warnings: Unless you hate fluff (which I get) then no warnings here.

A/N: This was originally meant for my discontinued Like the Incredibles series but it was too cute to delete <3

Request?

!Masterlist!

Quiet footsteps pitter-patter across hardwood floors as you stand at the stove, watching the bubbles begin to break the surface of the egg you had just placed in the pan. Turning around, a smile etches onto your face when you see doe eyes that belong to Eri; still in her Eraserhead pyjamas and clutching her Illusionaire stuffy.

"What are you cooking?" she whispers softly before clinging to your leg.

"Hmm, I don't know, maybe my favourite little girl's food in the whole world."

"You're making tamagoyaki?!" she yells in excitement.

"Shh!" you say softly with a giggle before gently rubbing her back. "But yes, I'm making tamagoyaki along with some miso soup, rice and fish cakes."

Eri stays quiet after that, clinging to your leg as the smell of eggs fills the room, causing a small smile to form. Once you finished a few of the cylindrical omelettes, you feel Eri tug on your shirt, wanting you to bend to her level. When you do, you get a kiss on the cheek and a quick;

"Thank you, mommy,"

She takes the plate with a gleeful smile and quickly makes her way to the small dining room table you had placed just outside the kitchen. An even brighter smile replaces your previous one as you stand.

"She really loves you,"

Turning around you see Shota with his hair in a bun, grey sweatpants and a black shirt hanging off of him from the night's previous rest. With a grin, you begin to clean up.

"I was so worried she wouldn't accept me, or even Shinso wouldn't want me around."

"Well they both love you and everything you do for them," he says as he dries his hands off from doing the dishes.

"They love you too you know,"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know. Probably for different reasons though."

You snort softly before pulling him close to you by his sweatpants, gently swaying your hair out of your face with the flick of your head.

"And? Do you love me?" you ask with a grin.

"Shut up,"

He kisses you in between giggles, your arms slowly wrapping around his neck as your lips play an intricate dance. You feel his hands wrap around your waist, slowly lifting you up from the floor a little as you nibble on his bottom lip just a touch.

"You two can be really gross,"

With a soft groan, Aizawa breaks the kiss and nuzzles his head into your neck out of both embarrassment and annoyance. You slightly turn your head with a grin to see an exhausted Shinso, looking just as annoyed as his (adoptive) father.

"Go help Eri set the table and we will be right there,"

He simply nods before walking away, a subtle 'humph' coming from Aizawa once he leaves. You reluctantly pull away, tucking a stray piece of hair behind his ear with a smile. You hand off a few plates to him which he expertly takes into the next room. Following with the last few dishes, you look at the little family before you.

Aizawa already helping Eri put food on her plate while Shinso lets a soft grin slide. The way your daughter's eyes light up and the sight of the fluffy egg. To put a cherry on top, you gently placed a fish cake on the side before laying them on the table for everyone else to eat.

Yes, looking at your family, it was little moments like these that gave you peace.

[starksvixen]

masterlist • season one • season two • season two-point-five • ao3

summary: An ex-princess forced to hide and fight for your life, you’re now on the run with a Mandalorian and a foundling, trying to protect the three of you from the threat of death that creeps around every corner accompanied by a tracking fob.

pairing: din djarin (the mandalorian) x f!oc/reader

includes: canonical-type violence, fluff, swearing, childhood/current trauma, angst

fan art: x, x, x, x, x, x, x, x, x, x, x, x, x, x

gif sets: click here and here to see gif sets for each chapter made by the incredible @kenoobiwan​!

playlist: hand-crafted to have each track coordinate with each chapter, you can stream it on Spotify here!

discord: ask me about joining the Security discord server!

CHAPTERS

Keep reading

[starksvixen]

Livewire

PAIRING: Levi Ackerman x Reader (gender-neutral)

GENRE: angst-ish

WARNINGS: blood, gore, mentions of death, canon-level violence

Possible Season 1-3 Attack On Titan (anime) spoilers 

SUMMARY: you are so tired and Levi is so far away and the titans are so close, but you cannot give up because you are his livewire.

You were untouchable.  You were as quick and lightning and as loud as thunder and your skills were comparable to those of Captain Levi Ackerman.  You were a force to be reckoned with, not just against titans but among your comrades as well.  You took up space, you were not afraid to laugh, you did not hesitate to express your opinion.  And when you and Levi started dating you two became an unbeatable duo, like angels sent to save humanity.  

At first, all you were to him was an annoying recruit who needed to learn when to stop talking and who had too much energy.  But then he started to appreciate your unquenchable enthusiasm, he began to crave it.  Then he started to fall in love with your mannerisms, how you talked, how you ate, your very personality.  And then before either of you knew it, he had fallen in love with you.

He called you his livewire because it felt like while everybody else was worried about surviving, you were really living.  While everyone else was going through the motions you were energetic, unpredictable.  

But where did all that energy go?  Now, your bones feel as though someone is pouring sand into them and every second they get heavier.  One moment you were arcing through the air, around the side of a titan, staring into huge, bulbous eyes, wind colouring your cheeks pink; the next a monsterous hand knocked your anchors free from the surrounding trees and you went plummeting to the forest floor.  

It is safe to say that the wind was knocked out of you and now it is a task to breathe.  Your breaths sound more like wheezes and it seems like for all of the air you take in, double rushes out.  Your throat constricts and it sends trills of panic up your spine. 

You do not want to die, you are afraid of the darkness ebbing at the corner of your vision.  You want to see the sun rise tomorrow, you want to turn another one of Levi’s frowns into a smile.  But you are so tired and Levi is so far away and you do not know where your squad is.  And as the titan thunders closer a warmth blooms on your back, you cannot tell if it is blood or the water from seeping through your scout jacket.  

The titan starts to crouch, begins to reach a colossal hand towards you and you tell yourself that you need to get up.  You can feel the warmth emitting from the monster’s skin and you tell yourself that you need to move.  But in a strange kind of fever dream you remember the mountain of bodies you stand upon.  The countless lives that have been lost or sacrificed on your expense and that familiar wave of searing guilt washes over you.  

Maybe your time is up.  Maybe all of the sand has fallen and has settled.  But in that same hazy state and has ensnared your mind you hear Levi whisper livewire on your shoulder before triggering his ODM gear and zipping away, livewire as you stare up at the stars on one of those rare nights where no battles are being waged, livewire as he washes the blood out of your hair.  

And so you stand, renew your blades, and dash away as the titan’s hand crashes into the spot where you stood seconds before.  Now, standing, a trail of blood drips into your eye but you can worry about that later.  You can feel pain later because now you must fight and you must not give up.  Because you are his livewire, and livewires are not extinguished so easily. 

——–

Masterlist

——–

stressed is desserts spelled backwards.  -wynde 

thank you for reading!

[starksvixen]

when clint said the ronin was killed by black widow, he meant that he stopped being ronin the moment she came back for him.

[starksvixen]

The fluffiness is so warm for the soul I might actually combust

Chapter 12 | White paws.

“…that your heart was racing like this for another man?”

Summary: AOT CHAPTER 130-139 MANGA SPOILERS AHEAD. The beauty of change.

Warnings: violence mentions, suggestive scenes/sexual themes, physical assault mention, attempted sexual assault mention, but ultimately fluff!

wc: 8.3k

An: I wanted this chapter to feel really romantic, and show the changes in their relationship occurring, with some passion here and there🥺;)

There's also some songs for this chapter this week🥺🥺! The first one is the exact song I envisioned reader and Levi listening to together, so when that scene comes, please play it for effect 🥺 he would be humming this to her!🥺

Nightfall by Benny Carter

Cocktails for two, by Benny Carter

And then...Lost in a fog by Coleman Hawkins ❤️

Fable’s Masterlist

⋘ 𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘯𝘦𝘹𝘵 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳 ⋙

"Will you tell me?" he asks again, you nod in careful affirmation, but your heart pangs. How can you tell him? Wouldn't that just hurt so? Hasn't he enough guilt already?

You swallow, carefully carding your fingers through his hair. "I'll tell you all of it, I promise."

"You better not be lying." he mumbles, arms curling even tighter around you as if to enhance his point. "I'll listen to you." You expect him to snap up when the door shifts open, and part from you as if to hide some kind of forbidden tryst. But he stays lazed carelessly on top of you instead, head virtually burrowed under your armpit, as he blocks the light of the morning out, for once. You're enough, more than enough. "Who?"

"Pon."

"Vi!" Levi mumbles a vague hello while Onyankopon chortles like a proud father, "I'll just pull up a seat then!" Levi groans into your rib. "Happy to see you too, lover boy."

He leans down to give you a squeeze, merrily ruffling Levi's hair in the process. "Happy to see you Pon."

"And you too trouble, so...Levi, can I talk to [name]?"

"Mm, I'll go talk to the brats then." He scoops himself off the top of you, shuffling his shoes back on, before turning to face Onyankopon. In an instant, his warm eyes map over the puffiness gathering under Levi's and he softens, watching Levi admire your smile longingly, before leaving.

Onyankopon shuffles beside you, head already tilting in sympathy. "So... I missed ya."

"Missed ya more...so are you gonna tell me Pon, how was he?" To ask the uncomfortable you almost roll in on yourself, propping your chin in your palm. "The truth."

"How much do you wanna know?" he asks, crossing one leg over the other and leaning even closer, apprehension suddenly overshadowing that usually jaunty grin of his. "It wasn't...pretty I'll tell you that."

"No, Levi's always pretty." You laugh softly, hands instinctively shooting out to touch him.

Onyankopon clicks his tongue at you, with that knowing stare of his, plastered on his face, "Yeah yeah lover girl, but honestly, I've never seen him like that though, in that kind of a... state."

"State?" You gulp, eyes falling upon the floor, "Did he have a panic attack?"

He gently shifts your feet over, carefully perching himself on the end of the bed, and lowering his voice as if telling you a sordid secret. "Well, I'm honestly unsure [name], but it was something. He smashed things, pretty much the entire living room in fact. I can't really describe it."

"Oh, I had an feeling he was on the brink, and I left anyway, after I made him bear his fucking heart to me, I left." You run your fingers through your hair, wincing when your fingers meet with sore scabs. "Ah, I feel so shitty."

"No! Don't think like that! I think he came to some good conclusions, seriously, so maybe I can stop waiting for you both to hold hands, holy-"

"Fuck off!"

"Anyway, let's cut the shit, tell me all you can, so I can submit a report at the bureau, and we can try to catch those bastards."

You chuckle, "I knew you'd ask me this, how do you know that I can even tell you anything? Huh?"

But he's already slipping his notepad out of his blazer, "Because I know you, so go."

"First off, will you grab my jacket, please?" He grabs your brown zip-up, waiting for your next instruction with it in his hands. "Right pocket...Pon that's the left!"

He gasps, "No shit, no way!"

"Shit! So he definitely told you that I lost it then."

"Well." He clears his throat, imitating Levi's voice, "My little scarf is lost, actually, so thank you very much Onyankopon, you can blame your best friend for that."

"I'm surprised he didn't hit you for calling it his little scarf!"

"Well actually I called you an idiot for losing it, and then he hit me!...What's this?"

"That there, is one of the bastard's wallets, and information wise, all I can say is that the street where one of the men live is called Cashmere street, it's maybe, one of the fifth houses from the left."

His hand encases your knee and he squeezes. "Trouble, I'm gonna need more details than that, unfortunately."

You tell him all of it, everything down to the anti-Eldian chanting, the strategically malfunctioning streetlights, the shovel man...He's pacing in horror, swiping his hands over his face over and over as if to wake himself up from it all. And when you're done he's thumping on the rickety hospital window, while his other hand is fisting the washed out curtain at it's side. "Have you told him? About that shovel guy?"

You lean back, catching a flash of Levi's hair through the door. "I don't exactly want him to go to prison, so no, I have not!" you hiss.

"Are you sure?"

You scoff, chest booming with laughter. "Pon, do you think that Levi would know near enough the exact address of a man who tried to hurt me like that, and not try to slip out in the middle of the night and take him out?"

"No you're right, and there's awful lawyers in this town."

"Mm, but anyway, you can update me about the case here and there, but please, you've taken my statement now Pon. I don't want to think about it, I want to put it behind me so that I can continue moving forward, I just can't fathom those men hurting any more vulnerable and unassuming people."

He rushes to your side to pull you into a bear hug, "I can only imagine, this is the last time we have to talk about it if you want. Promise, I'm so sorry this all happened, you didn't deserve this, nobody does."

"Thank you for being there for us, you always are, what would we do without you huh?"

"Don't mention it, I have my reasons, so always trouble." You break away with toothy grins, to both collapse into laughter when you see Levi's head peeking over the glass, because of his height you can only see his eyes and it chokes you both up even more.

"We're done!" you shout over, and you see him smile, because in an instant the doors being broken down and all of the cadets are bolstering in.

Reiner, Armin, Jean, Connie, Mikasa, Pieck, Gabi and Falco too. "Her head hurts so be quick and quiet." Levi gently scolds, glaring when Connie and Jean drape their arms around his shoulders.

"You like Captain right sir?"

"Are you quick and quiet Cap?" Connie giggles.

"Get off you giants! You stink!"

You wave at them all through locked hands, Pieck already on one side, and Mikasa on the left, with Armin on your lap of course. "Hey Cap, you're heavy by the way, you weigh a ton," Reiner snorts, and Gabi kicks him.

"She's not that heavy!"

"Can I come in?" Everyone rushes to make way for the doctor, standing to attention at the clop of his feet to the floor.

"I see you've perked up now, [name]."

"Something like that." you reply through fond laughs at your family, and Levi catches your gaze halfway across the room and you melt, eyes lidding at the sight of him.

"I'm here to give you your final diagnosis and plan for treatment, before I send you home and go home myself, are you comfortable with everyone here having ears on that?"

"Of course!"

"Great," He flips over the paper on his clipboard, "I'd say you're concussed, and the healing rates for this dramatically vary from person to person. But, because of the wear your body has already faced in the past, I'm prescribing you ten days of immense rest, but ideally the maximum and desired that I recommend for you is fourteen days. And for your grazes, especially for the one on your crown, they should be more or less healed around that maximum mark too.

But no stress at all, so no work or strenuous activity, you need to let your head heal, okay? I'll also leave some painkillers with the nurse, for you to take while you're healing, in case the headaches get too much."

Levi's fierce in his nod, already marching towards the end of your bed, "Let's get you home to bed then."

"Levi, please, what about the shop?"

"There's one more thing I have to say to the two of you, but..."

"It's fine." You smile, "I don't mind if they hear."

"If you guys have sex before the estimated healing time, though I'd prefer you didn't, please ensure that it's not rough, and that's it's as gentle a-"

"Connie, shut it."

Levi's blushing violently, arms folded beside you, "Got it."

"Overall, she just needs to rest in every way, no stress, just care, but I assume you can do that for her Levi?"

"Well that's our cue to start leaving you both to it." Onyankopon grins roguishly, encouraging everyone to say the last of their heartfelt goodbyes.

"But what about the shop Levi?"

Armin swings up off the bed, grabbing Jean for support, "We're not leaving for a few weeks or so, so we can all work shifts if you want! It will be good for bonding before we all go away anyway."

"Thanks guys, if you're really interested we can talk about this outside, I'll be back in a minute [name]."

You smile at him in reply, accepting the last of your hugs, before Levi carefully closes the door. "Thanks again doctor."

"If you were pregnant that could have gone terribly, please be cautious when you're out without Levi, or Onyankopon. Some men really are monsters, but the next time I see you, it better be because you are pregnant and experiencing morning sickness."

"Don't jinx me with that!"

He laughs heartily, "Take care and make sure you rest!" he calls out, "Bye!"

You lean over, stretching out to try and reach the clothes Gabi has brought for you, until you just impatiently swing to your feet. Though your limping and on shaky legs, so when Levi catches sight of you through the door he races in, and he can barely stomach the sight, quickly growing bloodthirsty.

"[Name], your ass is out." he coos delicately, slipping his hand over your behind as if to keep your decency. You laugh and he tips your chin up, eyes glimmering earnestly, before they widen at the sight of your heavy grazes up so close. "It's okay I've got you." he whispers, pressing a feather light kiss to your chin. "I'm sorry [name]." He moves to press one to your throat, and you giggle. "I mean it, you know that right?"

"I know you are, but it's not your fault."

"Lie down."

Using his shoulders as leverage you lower yourself back down onto the bed and he grabs all of the clothes for you. Pulling the curtain around you both, he starts to slip off your gown, and your naked body fills with goose bumps in the cold, so you sigh out in relief when his hand meets your sternum, and he holds it there, fingers swirling and soothing. "You still look good you know, even injured." he murmurs, eyes softening when you weakly wrap your hand around his wrist, just to keep him planted there. "...Fuck."

You exhale, fighting the urge to clench your thighs together. "I missed you, Levi."

You can't just say his name like that.

He swallows, and your heart starts to race as he leans into you, claiming his place between your legs. He rubs his palm up and down your inner thigh, those slate coloured eyes alight, and burning down into yours. "I missed you too...It's cold in here isn't it?"

"Yeah, but I'm lucky cause your hands are nice and warm." You inhale as he works his way up to your arms, rubbing them. "Always so warm."

"Good." He carefully ducks to your chest, hair tickling your collarbones as his warm breath revives you, while his thumbs brush over your hips. "I don't think these will scar."

"You think I mind scars? Because I love them, especially on faces."

He starts to shuffle up your socks now, careful hands adorning every part of flesh they touch. "I see, but I don't know where you'll find someone with those."

"I've already found someone, and he's the one, definitely, all noble and the like."

His hand slides onto your chest again, your hardened nipple under his palm making both of your eyes clamp shut at the contact. "Ah? But I wonder how your admirer would feel, knowing that your heart was racing like this for another man?" he whispers raggedly, letting your hands find comfort under his shirt. "Hm?"

"I don't know if he'd care." you challenge, grinning at his face as he slides up some loose sweatpants of his up your legs, tying their strings into a pretty little bow.

"He would, over a spoken for man too." He tuts, "awful."

"Spoken for?"

"For life, he told me himself."

You laugh, and he moves to mouth the darkened areas littered over your chest, pressing light kisses to them. "Maybe he's worth getting so worked up over then, he sounds so loyal, and I happen to find that admirable...you know?" you rasp, back arching and hips rolling up as he closes both thumbs over your nipples and massages them in dizzying circles, all while he pecks at your skin.

"I'm worked up." he pants, closing his mouth over your nipple for a single moment and sucking, because he purely cannot help it, but then you moan, you fucking moan and he cannot, because it's his name that you whimper.

"You're so cute."

You spur him on even more now, hands threading through his hair and tugging, "Levi, please, you can't keep teasing me like this."

"Shit." He pulls away, rising up above you and hurrying to cover your breasts up with the duvet, "You're injured, but when you're not, we can-"

You hook your arms and legs around him simultaneously and he grunts softly, "Continue this?-"

"Talk about us, and where we stand...but for now no, come on, the nurse should be here in a moment...and we're in, public." he stammers. "Shit."

"I look forward to it." You smirk, pressing your foot to his crotch but he grips your ankle, sitting you up with the pullover sweater ready. He painstakingly helps you pull the fabric over your head, being sure not to knock it too much, so you simply have to tease him.

"They've shoved enough needles in you for a lifetime." he mutters, a frown pinching at his brows, while his eyes follow the bunched cotton wrapped over your forearms.

"Fuck! Levi stop being so rough with me, damn, the doctor said-"

"I will in a moment if you carry on." he just chuckles, pecking a kiss to your temple, as he tucks the top into the sweatpants. He grins at you, reopening the curtains before collapsing down beside you. "Now we have to wait until they bring you your prescription, but he said it wouldn't take long, okay?" he hums, tucking the blanket in around you.

You nod, budging closer to him, until you're both lazed on your sides, relaxed with every bat of sensual lash at the other. "C'mere?"

"Mm?"

"Anything on your mind?"

He's been asking you every rendition of this question all morning. "I gave Onyankopon one of their wallets, and he's going to the police for me, and I'm sure they'll sort this out, because we're respected...more than you think."

He shakes his head, "Then what happened wouldn't have if we were, I'm going to kill them." He tells you so plainly, it's like he's talking about buying groceries.

You hook your other arm around his neck, watching his jaw grit and eyes flutter shut when you use your thumb to circle all that tenderness aching his nape. "Levi," you giggle, like a lovesick schoolgirl, "this isn't back home, you can't just commit murder."

"They violated you, and they hurt you, marked you at that, I want them dead."

"I got off with some scratches."

You hear his breathing halt, "Your head was bleeding, and you were out cold." And to think he's never felt squeamish by blood before.

"It's basically a mild graze, even the doctor said I just need to rest, so it can't be that bad, and they didn't get much time, because of..."

"What?-" Shit. "How?"

"Cause I got away, kay?"

You think if Levi knew, they might actually lock him up, veteran passes and all.

"Can you let the police take care of it, and not become an absolute lunatic, please? For me."

"Wicked girl," He tuts at you, shifting the hair out of your eyes, and sighing." But for you, anything."

"Can you pass me my jacket please?"

He cocks his head back and immediately huffs, "When's the last time this was in the wash?" he scolds. "I haven't seen it in so long."

You laugh so sweetly it tickles somewhere in his stomach that makes him want to obey your every command. Tsk, and Levi doesn't listen to anyone. "Close your eyes." You carefully release his cravat from its pocket, before placing it lightly into his hand, he squeezes it, gasping almost instantly. "Yes!"

His cravat. You managed to keep it in perfect condition. How? "Is that where you were?" he asks. "You were getting this back for me." he grabs your face, sucking a long sweet kiss to your cheekbone. You grin, clumsily kissing the side of his cheek caught in the contact, being so close to Levi feels so new but so familiar, his skin even smells like home, and it's so soft and perfect under your lips, that your heads reeling.

You nod into him, "Yes I got it, I remembered that on that day I wore two jackets, remember? But I'm so sorry I lost it in the first place, Levi."

"Thank you, thank you so much."

"Levi, I'll protect your heart whenever I can, you can trust me with it, forever."

You will him to reply, feeling your heart gasp and sink in your chest.

I love you, his brain screams. Never leave my side. Marry me. Let me be blessed with your existence daily. The voice in his head grows hoarse, before he repeats in his head what he wants to say a final time. "My heart is all yours. I am all yours, I always have been, back then and now, forever, just like you said."

"Oh my, Levi?" You search him for a sarcastic quip, for him to tell you this is all a lie, or that he needs more time, but he doesn't.

Instead grabs your face gently, your chin safe in his palm, and he pecks a kiss to your left cheek, "I" and then one to the right "promise. "But if you break me, just-promise me you'll make it quick, got it?"

I adore you. "Got it."

"But, I...adore you, and I'm devoted to you." he whispers, kissing your puffy knuckles. "When you're better I'll tell you the rest."

"I adore you even more."

"Impossible, but shit, you really socked him one." he chuckles through a rumble of laughter. "That's my girl."

"You know it."

You stay embraced for a few minutes, and it feels like even the ward goes quiet, while your smiles are spread so stupidly big across your faces they ache. "In a few days, when you're feeling better and have rested...let's go and get that fucking dog, mm?" You blink those eyes up at him so gorgeously, that his heart is beating so fast it feels dangerous. "We still have to talk about...us. I know."

You smirk, rousing his locks with a shuffle of your hand. "As long as you do."

"But, we're building... " his voice trails away, and then he's nervously gnawing at his lip.

"What? Why don't you tell me." you tease.

He shakes his head at you, greeting your wrist with a drag of his lips across it. "Our family, so, let's go and get one of those little mutts, I don't mind."

"Dogs Levi."

"I'm not walking it."

"You don't have to smart ass."

"We're still getting the little...puffy one then, with the white paws?"

"The one he showed us a photo of first?"

"Yes." he sighs.

You grin, "You're excited."

"No, no I'm not. Good, here she comes with your medicine. Time to go home."

"Time to go home." You smile back lovingly.

On the way out you insist that you tweak your journey slightly, so you can include a stop through the market stalls. Although your limping is making his stomach churn, he accepts, though only if it means in return that you'll sleep early tonight.

His eyes rake over the puckered skin on your chin again, "Levi?"

"Your soup?" he blurts out, casting his eyes down to your...bruised knuckles instead, shit, he's mouthing something to himself, isn't he?

"It's good, but stop, I can read your lips."

"I suppose you got me."

"I did indeed."

"The house might be...a mess."

"My Levi making a mess?" you tease, "But no don't worry, Pon already told me."

He blushes, "I make messes all the time." You feel his foot knock yours, and when you look up at him, you watch him recoil into his occasional bashfulness.

The smell of fresh bread is clinging to the air, and there's gaggles of mothers and their children, and crowds shifting past with their shopping, but then there's you and Levi. There's a number of couples surrounding you two too, but all he sees is you, and all you see is him. He shifts his hand closer, knuckles kissing yours, "All I wanna do is apologise, but I think I can make it stop." He leans in, checking for onlookers, and then tilts your chin ever so gently,

"Kissing me better?" He hums in reply, and you giggle into the cushion of his lips as they cool the scab scuffing your chin, "Everyday till it heals, nurse?"

"Everyday."

It's a calm meal then after, you lean your face upon his shoulder and lazily tip your bowl up to drink your soup, and he just smiles, to your surprise helping you tip it. This of course doesn't last long, because Levi's shooing you away from the table before you know it, already tucking your scarf into your coat.

But there's a pet accessory stand and you just have to drag him to it. Within minutes you're eyeing him curiously, watching him sift through their collection of dog coats, particularly a forest green one, with an insulating fur layer. "I don't want her to freeze."

"That's what furs for." you giggle, but he's taking you seriously, very seriously.

"I'm buying her the coat, I can't have either of my girls freezing." he says, inspecting the quality of it's stitching.

You sigh with a contented smile, wriggling up closer to him and embracing his bicep. "Idiot."

"Shall I make pasta later?" he asks airily, already grabbing the attention of the owner.

You feel even fuller when you arrive home, because there's a handwritten note upon the coffee table, and the place is spotless. The small squiggled 'O' at the end of the note makes Levi's cheeks burn, "I don't deserve him." he murmurs, "Not at all."

"You do."

The smell of garlic laced mascarpone one pot pasta makes your stomach rumble, as you lay with your head tossed back in the water, "I'll be in to wash you in a moment."

"Huh? It's okay, you're already making dinner!"

"I said I would!"

"Did you?"

The soft patter of his feet reach the bathroom, and you tilt your head up in adoration, he's wearing a pinstripe Ackerman's apron, and you can almost smell the aroma of baked goods and chamomile leaves wafting through from it. "You were, " He pauses to flick his tongue across his lip, "out, when I said it." He ducks beside the bath, and you smile at the pasta sauce on the tip of his nose. Some of the scar tissue on his face has reduced sensations over the years, so you often find his face half covered in various sauces after cooking.

"You do that too though huh?"

He blushes, hands promptly fishing under the water for your washcloth, "Sometimes."

"I think we should stop then, and say the things we want to say, only when the other can hear."

He smiles, lathering up the cloth with soap, "I'd said that I wanted to scrub their dirty hands away."

You take his cheek and lean over the bath, pressing a kiss to the tip of his nose. "Thank you."

"I just had sauce there didn't I?" he chuckles.

"Mmhm, but I just felt like kissing your nose anyway!"

"Well it's only polite to return the favour." He takes your face in his hands, and presses a peck to your nose, but then he finds his lips smoothing across your wet cheekbone to your ear. "There's more to come for you and me...and as soon as you're healed, I'll kiss you, everywhere." he whispers, using the tips of his fingers to shamelessly strum every disc of your spine. You audibly swallow and he chuckles, "Ah," He exhales, gently raking his teeth along the shell of your ear, "You're so sweet."

"You-" You shudder, twitching as you grab onto his shoulders, releasing deep stifled breaths that make every single one of his muscles clench at the sounds. "Join me in here please, I want you to hold me." you whine, clinging to him.

"You know I can't..." He draws his fingers lower, drawing circles on your lower back. "In bed, after dinner."

You pull away, wrapping your hands through his hair with fluttering eyes, as he continues to make your body tingle so much you're almost embarrassed, all from his touch alone. "Levi."

"Yes [name]," he replies, taking your hand.

"Everywhere?"

He cocks a brow at you. "Not a single place will be left untouched, unless you doubt my thoroughness?"

"Oh, never."

"Good, now let's finish up and eat, hm?"

Because of your concussion, you nod off in the bath and awake to Levi tutting at you, and wrapping you up in a large towel, "You could drown, and dinners ready."

"No one's gonna drown." you laugh, and he huffs at you, still continuing to help you get ready as you flop lazily against him.

"Do you still want the pasta?"

"Of course I fucking do, it smells delicious."

His heart swells. "Good, I added some fresh garlic to it today." You slide your hands around his waist, and watch him smile at you in the bathroom mirror, "So let's eat."

Levi doesn't force you to talk about what happened at dinner, though he wants to, instead you fill your bellies while the fireplace crackles, savouring every morsel swallowed beside each other. "I love your company, do you know that?" you yawn, sipping your mug of hot cocoa.

He chuckles, his deep laughter as warm as your cup, "I do, I love yours too." He settles down his mug, picking up his newspaper.

"Who reads the newspaper at night?" you tease, tapping it away with your foot.

The corners of his mouth curl up, "Plenty of people, you know I enjoy page nine." Levi loves the agony aunt columns, like seriously. "Ana here claims her husband is cheating."

"And I suppose Aunty Cindy has all the answers." you huff.

"Ten actually, and I'm dying to know, so-" You put down your cup, crawling over his thighs and collapsing there. "Need some help?" he chuckles, stroking your cheek.

"I'd planned to reach your chest but your thighs are comfy."

"You're more than welcome to stay there then."

"Go on then, tell me those ten answers." You smile, wrapping your arms around his thighs and curling your knees up to your chest. Within seconds you feel his hand smooth over your arm, before a blanket falls over you.

You look up at him and you stay staring together a minute, eyes tracing over lips before inevitably breaking. "That's what I thought." The crackle of the fireplace and the candles surrounding you both encase you in their warmth, and it's not long before heavy rain joins, crashing down onto the roof and windows. Levi looks down at you in sheer bliss, "Glad we're not out in that."

"Sounds cosy though, like music." you hum, pecking a kiss to his thigh.

"Definitely love." he dares reply as causally as he can, but his ears are fucking burning. You squeeze him even tighter, buzzing underneath him, and he laughs dotingly, "You know, I've never enjoyed the rain until now, in this moment with you."

Isabel and Furlan.

"I'm enjoying it with you too." You mouth the word sorry and he clutches your hand, already searching for the next column.

"So, the next one, a man wrote in this one."

"Ah."

He quotes the tagline. "Tom is sweet on his mom's best friend."

"Ouch."

You spend the whole night not just utterly consumed by Levi, but Hange, and how you yearn to tell them the way he makes you feel, how weightless, how you feel so giddy sometimes you have to sit down and brace yourself. You want them to see how he's changed, maybe now you want him to read their letter too.

"Who did the shop today?" you yawn.

"Arlert and Kirstein."

"Ahhh- Levi what's this thing? I didn't notice it earlier!"

The bed dips beside you in the darkness and Levi lights the pillar candle on the nightstand. And when the light reveals the object, his eyes widen, and you giggle as he crawls over your thighs to ogle it, grabbing the note beside it, "It's Pon again."

"I thought this might be relaxing and dare I say romantic for you both, just simply haul the arm onto this record, and position it so the music starts to play clearly, I'll explain the rest at some point, but for now, just listen together, it's sweet right?

-O."

"It's a music player,"

"Music! Oh wow, I wonder what it will play." Out of pure tiredness and clinginess you fall against him, his chest against his back, while he fiddles with it until the tune begins to play smoothly. "Oh my."

Levi's speechless as the song starts to play out, it's beautiful and slow, strokes of saxophone and careful piano ringing throughout the room, intermingling with the rainstorm outside and bathing you both in their notes. And when Levi hears the clarinet harmonising, he chokes up, letting himself fall against the headboard, "This is, something isn't it?"

"This can be another thing we can do together, and we can play it in Ackerman's."

He starts to hum the song to you and you melt into mush in his lap, wrapped in the honeyed vibrations. "I know that even the worst people in all the world would have only to look at you and they would love you. Tell me, how did you come to be so beautiful?"

"You're reading it to me! You've memorised it?"

"Almost, just your favourite parts." he whispers, dropping his chin on your shoulder, arms still coiled loyally around your waist. "Levi?"

"Yes beautiful."

"Wha-" You gasp, tipping your head back to look into his eyes, for once they're not so unreadable, and god grey has never looked so inviting. "You've never said that like, that, before." you utter, stumbling on your words.

"It's something I say when you cannot hear me. But none of that anymore, right?"

You shake your head, too in awe to reply with anything intelligible, and then he combs your hair away from your eyes, just when you thought it couldn't get worse. "Is there something you want to say?"

Just that I love you.

"You know, now, don't you?"

That I love you.

"We both know," he speaks lowly, and he sounds so good you wish you could play it on such a future-forward machine, on a loop.

I love you too.

"No talking about this until your head is better, doctor's orders." He ducks down, using his cheek to map where he'll fit the best, before he presses a kiss to the curve of your neck.

"One more of those then?"

He chuckles in adoration, the music thickening your safety in each other, "You like your neck being kissed, don't you?"

"By you yes." you laugh shakily, fists clenching on his shorts.

He kisses your neck again, and you drawl out, completely hazy. "Then I'll give you a few more, because I like the little sounds you make."

"Oh Levi...s-shit."

"I know, I know." He presses kisses all over the side of your neck, thrumming to the song in your ears, his soft lips settle on your skin so artfully, that they create indelible marks on you. You don't want any other man's lips on your skin but his, you thought you knew that before, but now you definitely do. Your breath is stuttering, and your gulping, but he carries on, lifting your hair up and kissing your nape, while his hot breath grows heavy against your neck. "I'm so proud of you, of course you took him down. That's my partner, right? My girl."

"Damn right." you rasp, clutching him tight, "I am."

"My beautiful...you're something else."

"Don't stop, please." you moan softly, as he places his hand on your throat, ever so gently tipping your head up, and kissing at your jawline as he leans over you. You hook your arm around his neck and pull his face closer, tugging on his hair.

"Oh..." he grunts. "T-this song is pretty, isn't it?"

"Mm, I like it." He breaks away, his breathlessness unabashedly smooth on your neck, "Time to sleep."

"Mm," You fight to catch your breath for a moment. "Can you keep humming it like before?"

"I will until you sleep, yeah?" he soothes, settling behind you, one hand clasping your waist, the other positioned just above your head.

You lick your lips, shuffling back against him, urging him to hold you tighter, and he does, gripping you like you'll float away. "Levi? I'm scared I'll have a nightmare." His lips wobble in the dark.

"If you do, I'll be right here, so it's okay. You don't have to be afraid."

"What if you need to pee?"

"I can hold it." he chuckles.

"I can't stop thinking about it."

"If you tell me about it, then some of it will go away, right?...so tell me, you can, okay?" He runs his hand along your side, squeezing as if to coax out your words. "If you're comfortable, I'm here to listen, take your time."

"So I got lost, and I was wandering around for a while...and then I noticed that where I'd gotten to, all of the street lamps were out," He winces behind you, chomping down his lip, but still encourages you to continue with gentle whirs. "Then I heard these men shouting, I thought they were just drunk at first, but then I realised they were shouting something about Eldians...towards Eldians." His fists clench on your hips and you smile, smoothing them over and uncurling his bunched fingers.

"What happened next?"

"I looked around the street and panicked, because it looked exactly like Paradis, it was all so clearly war torn, even in the pitch black," You chuckle wryly, your nails digging into his palm. "It practically stunk of gunpowder, and I just wanted you, my love, and then they found me."

Your fault, your fault, your fault.

"I'm so sorry I wasn't there, I promise you I was searching everywhere, but you'll never have to search for me again, because I'll always be by your side from now on."

"It was my fault."

He's impassioned immediately, "It was their fault darling not yours!"

"I love hearing you say those words."

"Then I'll never stop." He lets you lull in his arms for a bit, continuing to soothe you with the music accompanying his embrace, his hands idly stroking through your hair, "If you can't continue that's okay, you have time."

"I didn't know if I would tell you this, but one of the men tried to touch me...well he did, he didn't get far, but I felt fear, real human fear, in fact for a moment I wished it was just a titan in front of me." A single tear falls down from his left eye, and he finds himself holding his breath. "That's kinda funny right?"

"Is he the one you punched?"

You nod into your pillow and he feels like his head is underwater, "I'm so sorry."

"He didn't make me feel weak though, but the other men did. Because they had me on the floor, and they spat and kicked at me like I was nothing." You pull his hand to your lips and kiss it, you're slightly shaking against him and it's so painful to watch that he has to close his eyes. "Yeah that, well it was, fucking...cruel."

Levi takes a breath, he's never been good at comforting people, or so he thinks, but he's always been awfully good at it with you. And even though he feels murderous right now, he softens his voice for you nonetheless. "But, you got away, because you're strong, you're always stronger than you think, I promise, you got away, and that will never happen again, because you're safe now, you're safe with me."

"Have you ever felt weak like that?"

That's quite the question, but you're quite the woman, and he's changing, you're helping him do that, so he'll tell you. "I used to hate nights, but now that I share them with you, I, feel safe and without you here with me I didn't, so you could never be weak, strength is more than physical prowess, you know that." He rocks you playfully, before speaking to you tenderly, "I feel weak without you, and it's not just because of those killer punches of yours."

You laugh through sniffles, resisting the urge to tell this man how much you love him, and how you will even until time outlives you both.

"You'll always have a safe place with me, that will never change. I'll always be waiting for you to get home, and if I'm not it's because I'm right by your side."

You peck a kiss to each of his forearms, "My favourite place is here, this is where I feel safest."

"Ah? Here I thought the thighs were your favourite."

You snort with laughter and he does too, "Definitely, thanks for the reminder."

"Well they're reserved for you, because no one else could ever come close." After those words, he buries his nose into your hair and continues to hum to you again, and you drift away to sleep so peacefully, that Levi has no choice but to follow closely after. Though not without leaning over and putting his finger under your nose to check for breath ever so often before he does.

But to your surprise, Levi is the one to wake you, you rise in the middle of the night to his hands twitching uncontrollably on your hips, his fingers jutting and pressing like they're still clicking ODM controls, he does that sometimes, but only when he feels powerless. "Levi." You coo, hearing him grunt softly in your ear, and when he doesn't respond to your voice, you squeeze his hand in yours and he jolts so violently it's as if he's been thrown from a height beside you.

He's panting, and rattled, and you can feel a light layer of sweat coating him, "I'm sorry," he whispers, pressing messy kisses to your jaw, "Sorry."

"It's okay, it's okay."

"I love you." he mumbles, "So much." before falling back to sleep in an instant.

"I love you, Levi."

The night trudges on, with neither of you to remember the honest exchange of the words, delivered and meant so purely.

A few days had passed before Munro had knocked with some news, "I thought I'd let you know that your dog is waiting at the shop for you both."

You'd dropped your toast and rushed to the door, jumping up on Levi's back to eagerly greet Munro, "We'll be right over!"

"I'm glad you're feeling better!"

"I'm glad one of us is." Levi teased.

The entire walk over Levi had scolded you for walking so fast, yet he'd made every preparation for your dog's homecoming that past three days, because he was definitely more thrilled than he'd let on. "This is sugar! She's very well trained, had all of her treatments, and she's even ready to be walked."

When Munro revealed the full price, Levi grumbled in your ear, "I'm glad this is our government money." But he was looking at her like she was his new best friend, patting her head the entire time.

"But there is something I should tell you both, usually puppies are sold around six months, but Sugar here is actually a year and a half old."

"Did we take her from her family?" Levi instantly took your hand, seeing your face crumble.

"No, no! You're going to be way better than where she came from, and she'll get used to you guys in no time."

"Little shit's kinda cute." Levi muses, "Still all yours though."

You'd glared at him as you took your leave because all of a sudden he was hoisting the same dog he'd claimed to not want, up in his arms. "Levi! Her leads right here."

"The grounds wet? She's not walking in the house with wet feet."

You'd giggled and he'd come to a dramatic halt beside you, "What?"

Other than one of the most serious brooding men holding a fluffy little dog in his arms, "Paws Vi,"

"Arms, legs whatever."

"They're all legs." you'd snorted, reaching over to stroke her.

"No, she's got elbows and knees, look."

You were gasping for breath, "They're all legs." you'd told him once more, barely coherent through laughter.

"Careful your head, and let's just get the little fucker home, what are we calling her?"

"Well not that!"

"If you want to carry her, be my guest."

Levi already had the fireplace set up with her bed beside it, for when you'd gotten home. He'd seriously forked out and got the most expensive one too, it looks like a mini cave, completely plush with fur lining, and because she didn't leave it for a while after arriving at her new home, boy was Levi smug. It's green too, of course, to match her collar. "I told you, they like soft things, just like we do."

"Lola?"

Levi groaned more than he had for the past twenty options, "Lotti?"

"Yes, let's call her that!"

"But what was her name before?

"Sugar."

"Will she respond to that name then?"

"Let's hope so." You'd called her up on the sofa with you by her new name and she'd enthusiastically followed, "Levi did you-" You'd sighed, watching him lug a bucket of steaming water behind you to the balcony.

"Levi it's too cold to give her a bath, and what if she hates water!"

"Then that's what the fireplace is for, and it's not windy, she'll be fine."

It turns out that Levi is quite the dog whisperer, because she was rather pleased with the treatment from you both as you'd scrubbed and washed her in the large tin bucket together. He wrapped her in about five towels when you were both done too, and then sat beside her until she dried, calling her a good girl the entire time.

"I don't want a dog." he'd said. But now as you watch him reading a book this morning with Lotti curled up loyally on his chest, you steal a laugh at his secretly soft nature, it's been a day and she hasn't left Levi's side. Last night before bed, he'd turned on some music, dragged her bed into your bedroom, and put her right beside you both on the floor.

"Levi? What are you doing?" you'd hissed.

He'd shushed you gently, in a way he never has before." Come on, she needs to get used to us, Munro said." But when you went to the bathroom in the middle of the night and stubbed your toe on her water bowl, you could have fucking throttled him. But he woke up in complete delight, chuckling at you both.

"Levi, tomorrow she's out, I can't believe you seriously put her water bowl in here."

"I couldn't have her getting thirsty."

"What did I start?"

"She's a part of our family now, remember." he hummed, "C'mere."

You groan, "Levi, she loves you more."

"No." he chuckles, but you both know it's true, he shifts her off his chest and walks over to the kitchen island, putting the kettle on. He taps your shoulder and you giggle, swivelling in your stool so he can kiss the heavy graze on your chin, like he's done every morning since you left the hospital. "Who's working at Ackerman's today?"

"Pon and Angela."

"I miss our place."

"I know, but working will induce stress."

Today Kiyomi Azumabito's monthly tea package has come, and you're stretched out beside Levi, sketching, and smelling every box. "New tea looks good."

"Mm." He smiles so prettily, that you quickly work to embellish the corners of your sketch with the upturned corners of his sweet mouth. "What you drawing now?"

"You."

"You've been drawing me for days." He grins again, happily separating all of the new flavoured bags of tea while Lotti rests cluelessly on his lap, Levi lets her smell every one, offering every box to your nose first and then hers.

"I enjoy it, I'll even be putting them on the fridge."

"Whatever you want."

Before it grows dark, you and Levi take Lotti out for her first walk, and Leslie and Munro rush out to fuss her, Leslie also insists that he's allowed to dog-sit at least every week.

"I like them." he mumbles, as you both wave them away.

"I know you do."

You enjoy the first walk with your little family, hand threaded through Levi's as you all kick through the tangy coloured leaves together. Though Levi watches wistfully at the couples and their children, and you don't fail to notice, so when he asks you if you'd like to leave early for your head, you lie and tell him that you feel fine.

But tonight, "Take one of your painkillers please!" he yells from the bathroom.

You grin to yourself, "Don't need one!" But then you hear him brusquely tut and spit out his toothpaste before he starts to speed walk to you. "Alright I'll take one!"

You hear the sound of water swishing in a metal bowl, and you almost hit the roof. You peer into the bedroom, sighing as you watch Levi set her bed in the corner this time, along with her water bowl, again. "Levi! This can not become a habit."

"[Name]. Just for tonight, she'll get lonely out there."

"Levi she'll be fine."

"She likes it in here because it's warmer."

You remind him for the hundredth time in the past two days that she has fur, but he pulls you down into the bed with him just like he did last night. "[Name] you're bullying my dog." he tells you, trapping his arms around you, and getting comfortable.

"Wait a minute, your dog!"

"She's grown on me."

"Well we need to go shopping tomorrow, that's if you'll let me take another excursion boss?"

"Aren't you the one left with an achy head after our walk." he teases.

You scoff, "Yeah, yeah."

Though it turns out Levi was right, because he always is, as a night later and after only hours of shopping, he slips a painkiller beside your glass at dinner without a peep, full of sympathy, and a knowing expression. "How is it you always know?"

"Don't underestimate yourself, what am I about to do?"

"Hmm. Wash your hands, then the plates, then your hands again, then you'll probably do some sit ups tonight, because you always do after soup for some reason...Ah, and then you'll shower."

"How is it you always know?" he parrots, kneeling to take your dinner plates.

You smile sweetly, "Don't get a stitch, and give yourself at least ten minutes for it to settle please."

However those dark luscious lashes of his, only charm you like they always do, "Well you always sleep after soup."

And of course, he is right.

But when you wake up without Levi nor Lotti beside you, you crane your neck to see him standing before the kitchen window and you creep up to hear him, "It's not safe enough for you to play out there at night yet though Lotti, there's always foxes-"

"Levi?"

He almost drops her. "What!

Additional Author's Note: Damn, I expected Fable to reach 30ish chapters, but this chapter alone is like 6 chapter plans, merged into one chapter! So...maybe Fable might definitely end before 2022!🥺🥺🥺 I'll be so sad when it does🥺😭

MrsAckermanX 2021 ©

[starksvixen]

LMGG I NEED A PART TWO TO ‘DADDY ISSUES’

<3333

I’m so glad you like it! I already posted part two and I’ll link it to part one soon <3

[starksvixen]

I think it was just a coincidence that this had happened once but apparently it’s not. To the Anon who is asking different blogs for the same request please Think about how the writer would feel if they saw that another person did exact same request you had asked for on their blog.

And please do not take this personally I am not angry, I am not personally attacking you but please be aware that this may hurt someone else’s feelings

I have a request that is the exact same thing from a fanfiction I have recently read. Of course without assuming I thought maybe it was just a coincidence but I was reading another piece in which I have written on my other blog on a different blog.

For example right now I am reading a fanfiction about Levi favoring his daughter over his two sons. And if you have read it already I have the exact same request on my side blog. Literally 6 days apart. Mine was first and the other was 6 days later.

And I think I’ve seen other writers bring this up before but please don’t do this, it makes other writers feel though their writing isn’t up to par with other ones. I am personally not hurt by this but it’s just a little weird to see. It’s not even worded differently it’s worded almost exactly the same. This isn’t the first time that I have seen this and like I said before it doesn’t bother me or make me upset in anyway but it’s just kind of weird to see

[starksvixen]

This…is perfectly written. From someone with hEDS it’s beautifully done and needs to be read more <3

RE Boys x Helping/Comforting Hypermobility Reader

Requested by Anonymous

Carlos

Carlos does his best to help out as much as possible. Sometimes it can be a bit over bearing, but his intentions are good.

He has a little medic training so when you need help with your joints popping in and out, he knows how to assist.

Most of the time you can avoid going to the hospital with his help.

He's also good with massages, taking in to account for your skin that can be quite sensitive and thin.

Sometimes you need a walker or a wheel chair so that you can keep your legs from getting too overworked. Carlos is there to either push you around or walk slowly with you, he'd never go faster than you that's just rude.

He'll draw hot baths for you when you're too tired or unable to shower, offering his services as your personal nurse. Carlos can get into it as well, even dressing up in scrubs because that man's ass will be the death of you before anything else in the world could get close.

Somedays you just can't move too much, you're too exhausted or in pain and he gets that. If he can, he'll help you around the house for what you need or even prop you up in bed if you're able to.

He always makes sure he's got his phone on him in case of an emergency when he's at work. It's his worst nightmare to leave his phone somewhere and you call, but he doesn't answer and you're left alone and scared and in pain.

Even when the more private things, such as your bowels or bladder, act up, he doesn't shy away. That's just part of it. He always says that if he's with someone, he's with them. Whether or not he has to help with accidents or catheters or anything really. It's a part of you and he loves all of you. If he had any reservations, you two wouldn't have made it as far as you did.

Carlos hold you as you cry in frustration, so fed up with your condition or feeling like a burden because there are days where he has to do so much for you that you feel like he's doing everything for you short of chewing your food for you.

He understands that it can be hard on you mentally just as much physically and he does his best to help with that part too. Sometimes kisses and and being held are enough to help you through it even if you don't believe the words that he's saying about you being so strong and a fighter.

Leon

At first Leon isn't so sure what to do. Does he help you as much as possible? Does he let you just do things while standing there awkwardly? It takes a few times of hanging out to get a feel of what you need or don't need before he's able to anticipate things.

He may not understand fully the irritation or maddening limits you have, but he knows the general feeling of what your body will and will not let you do. Dislocations are nothing new to him really.

With that knowledge it still take some adjusting to because the poor man doesn't want to over step boundaries.

After some talking, you're able to communicate to him how to help when you need it. Which leads to him learning how to reset dislocated joints. (Most of them being your shoulder, elbows, knees, and hips.)

Leon is also mindful of how he interacts with you in public. While Carlos is a natural at being in public with you, Leon is a bit different. Carlos can forget how other people can assume things, but Leon is very aware of how people perceive him and you.

'Poor guy taking care of his invalid partner.'

'Such a sweet man sacrificing everything for the person he loves.'

He hates it because he knows how capable you are on your own. While you do require help with some things, you're not an invalid or a burden on him. You're a fucking human being with feelings and dreams and thoughts that has the whole universe in your eyes when he's gazing at you when you don't know it. He wants to yell and scream at them for daring to dim you down from the brilliant star you are, but he doesn't.

Instead, he makes sure his attention and affection is on you, ignoring the others as best he can.

At home, he doesn't push for you to take his help, waiting for you to ask. It certainly helps with communication as you two always say what needs to be said instead of waiting for the other to get the hint.

The majority of your time together is spent at home, curled up in bed where you're not putting a lot of weight on your joints when they hurt or if you're just too exhausted for much more. If need be, when he's watching TV with you, he'll give you gentle massages and stretches.

Like Carlos, he has his phone on him at all times when you two are apart in case you need him. He tells you that if you get hurt or dislocate something and he can't get to you as fast as an ambulance call them first.

The man has amazing health insurance, it's really a dream come true so getting the help you need with doctors is not nearly as stressful as it used to be.

But you still have plenty of home remedies for when you need them because he knows that it's sometimes just easier to stay home than it is to try and sit in an ER at 3 AM.

Chris

Chris is a lot like Leon in that he's not sure what you need at first, but he does ask questions or offers assistance instead of waiting for you to ask.

Like the others, having his own share of injuries including dislocations, he's familiar with them and knows how painful they can be. Having helped plenty of soldiers reset their own dislocations, he practically a pro at it when you meet.

He's a homebody, as he's been on missions back to back to back for what seems forever before you two meet, so going out is for when you're feeling good.

Chris is a good cook and takes charge in the kitchen. Even when you want to cook, he ends up taking over. Not because he doesn't think you can, but mostly because it's one of the few things he's neurotic about.

For as big as he is, you'd think he'd be like a bull in a china closet, but he's more like a dancer. Quick and nimble on his toes, so whenever he's around and something slips, you don't end up on the floor anymore.

His favorite thing to do is cuddle you and hold you. It helps with aches and pains for you because he's so fucking warm and it helps him to relax. As fit as he is physically, you know he's got it rough in his head.

It helps you feel like the relationship is balanced, the two of you helping each other instead of it being a one sided power dynamic.

He wakes up with a start, scared and confused and you're there to comfort him, holding him close till he's no longer gasping for air as if he'd ran a marathon.

Chris will pick you up to take you to the bathroom so you don't have to wrestle with your wheel chair or your walker.

One of his favorite things to do as a couple is hot, herbal baths. He doesn't get shy when he goes to the 'Herbal Store' that happens to have little 'spells' on the bathbombs because he's a tired, achy man that just wants you both to soak in a wonderful array of scents and colors.

"What's this one called?" You ask.

"I believe it was 'Goodnight Moon.' It has lavender, oatmeal, dehydrated milk something, and Epsom salt. It doesn't have any dyes in it so we won't end up looking like the Blue Man Group."

"I'm sorry, I thought it was pretty and it was black, not blue."

"Not sure that's any better, babe."

Master List

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