badbitxhbuckybarnes - Tumblr blog

badbitxhbuckybarnes · 2 years

Text

you say the word, im on the way | e. yeager

♤ tags ;; fem!reader, cheating (on reader but not by eren), exes to lover, past toxic relationships, arguing and insults, very emotionally charged sex, co-dependency (in a way), childhood friends to lovers, streamer!eren (BARELY mentioned), make-up sex, oral (f!recieving),, unprotected sex, so much dirty talk, praise kink, petnames angel, baby, pretty girl, eren kinda.. talks to ur pussy djhsdj, 18+

♤ wc ;; 10.2k (utter agony)

♤ a/n ;; i really like. this isn't the best. but that's fine i had a lot of fun alr. very self indulgent. title from teenage fever by drake.

♤ synposis ;; after your boyfriend cheats on you, your ex, eren, shows up for you against all odds. you give into him against your best interest.

You wait for him on the side of the road.

The rain is coming down in heavy sheets. You’re soaked to the bone having left in a hurry with only a single suitcase of your things. Your phones nearly dead, less than 20 percent with an ever-depleting battery. The closest place to charge your phone is too long to walk in this weather. And it’s so late the buses have stopped running.

Even if you could leave, it’s dark and dangerous. Your heart is in your throat, and the only streetlight is so far it hardly makes you feel any safer. You don’t know a single person in your ex-boyfriend's hometown other than his parents, but you aren’t sure you can face them right now if you wanted to.

It’s not like you wanted to call Eren. Or for him to see you as sorry as you are. Dehydrated, exhausted, emotionally battered - you don’t even like seeing Eren when you’re at your best. You’re sure as soon as you get into his car, he’ll start arguing with you. You’ve spent the last 15 minutes mentally readying yourself for his harsh comments whatever they may be.

You don’t have the luxury of being picky. He’s safer than venturing by yourself or taking an Uber. And he owes you one, anyway. Nows a good of a time as any to take him up on that.

Relief fills your whole body when you see a car pull up onto the side of the road. It’s an all-black sports car. Typically Eren, it sticks out sorely from all the other cars that have passed by. Wiping your eyes, you clear your vision to see Eren inside. He’s wearing a black cap and mask.

Your feet sink in the mud as you walk up to the car, but he beats you to the punch. Approaching you in the dead of night with a sort of anger you can feel before you even look at his face. He has a jacket with him made of that thin plastic material.

Before you open your mouth, he’s pulling the poncho over your head. He puts your arms through before he drags you by the wrist to his car. Hurriedly, you grab your suitcase and track it through the mud while you follow. Your voice is too hoarse to protest him, but you shout over the rain.

“Fuck Eren,” You half yell, wriggling your wrist free from his grip “Let me go,”

When he does, you stumble forward. You don’t get a look at his face as he walks over to the driver's side. In your exhaustion, you don’t think twice about it or assume he was doing it on purpose. You resign yourself. Hearing the back trunk of his car open, you try and read his face through the tinted windows. But even with the lights on, you can’t.

Sighing, you truck it towards the back. Your feet sink into the soft earth under you, huffing as you pick it up and shove it into the trunk. After you close it, you hurry back to the passenger seat, finally opening the door to see Eren.

He doesn’t even look at you when you do, eyes focused on the road. You stare at the interior of his car, grimacing at the thought of having to pay him back for getting it covered in mud. Left without a choice, you get in.

The plastic on his seat tells you he might’ve thought ahead. You aren’t sure if you should be comforted by that or not.

The door closes with a soft thud as you get to sit. The sound of the rain is muted almost instantly and leaves you with nothing but the radio, virtually silent, and Eren with a hand over the wheel. You put your seatbelt on and then settle more into your seat. Turning your body to face the window. The tension in the air is so thick you can feel yourself choke around it, breathing through your nose.

Eren’s car smells like spearmint. You’re expecting to be berated at some point, for inconveniencing him or otherwise. After all, you called him through a sob and asked him for something you’re sure he’d rather not be doing.

Instead though, he puts the car in drive, steps on the gas, and does a turn until he’s back on the road home.

He doesn’t say a word or even looks at you. Maybe reminding him of the fact he owed you meant he was going to treat this interaction as entirely transactional, which is infinitely better for you. You let out a breath of relief, shivering. He turns on the heat without you asking.

You decide against speaking and give him a glance of acknowledgment. He doesn’t return the gesture.

You hear your phone buzz in the pocket of your pants, and fish it out. As you expected, it’s just your ex-boyfriend. A slew of missed messages and calls. Your eyes hurt getting adjusted to the bright lights as you send him a quick stop texting me tonight before clicking it off. You want to throw your phone in the river, and yourself. To float down somewhere far from here, and pretend nothing ever happened.

With the white noise of rain no longer drowning out your invasive and sad thoughts, you find yourself choking back more tears. The wound is still fresh, tender, and bleeding.

You’ve always had bad taste in guys.

But you thought this time would be different. He was different. Patient, and attentive and so thoughtful. It was always stable. You met his family, for fuck sake. His mom, dad, and sister - are all good people. A nice house with a garage, health insurance, and a college graduate. From a different place than you and your friends.

It was never all that exciting, but you thought it was better that way. To keep it simple. You put in the effort to make it work. Got comfortable with complacency, and waved off all of your friends when they insisted you should date someone better. Someone who suited you more.

Maybe someone like Eren. The thought makes your stomach sour.

But your ex, he wasn’t a bad guy. It wasn’t so easy. He was safe, and after your other experience with romantic relationships- safety wasn’t something you could dismiss with the idea of deserving more. More was abstract and intangible. Slippery.

You were content, so you stayed. Stability, you told yourself, I just want stability.

He was the last person you could imagine cheating on you. Unsurprisingly with a girl from his hometown who he’d told you about before and swore he got over. Feeling stupid, you let out an exasperated laugh. It’s your fault for trying so hard. For taking his inch and trying to turn it into a mile.

For believing it’d be enough to try. Maybe you know better than anyone, there are just some people you never get closure with. That distant look in his eyes concerned you. But a guy like him didn’t seem like he’d cheat.

You’ve never been so wrong.

Your stomach rumbles as you close your eyes and go over the fight. Subsequently, you forget Eren is even in the car with you. His presence fades into the background, face pained as you think of your exes apologies. He seemed sorry.

But you’re not someone who can forgive or forget easily - so you broke up. It just complicates everything. Already broken up, but you have to get your things. Find a place to stay for the month because it’s too expensive to go home early. Delete him off your socials, and maybe get in touch with your therapist again. The laundry list of post-break-up things to do is the most frustrating and most taxing.

The emotional healing and distrust go in some compartment until you can actually unpack them. After the initial devastations scabs over, you’re sure the sore feeling of sadness will come back with a vengeance.

That’s later though, and this is now.

Moping is a pipe-dream, seeing as you’re in a place where you have no one and nothing. The only person you know lives here is Eren, but you’re not really expecting any help from him after tonight. Maybe 3 days max, if he’s feeling generous enough.

At the very least, he must feel pretty sorry for you. No snippy remark or sarcastic gripe since you’ve gotten in. You can’t figure out what he’s thinking, just as before. It’s almost impossible to get a read on his face, and that thought leaves your mouth bitter.

As bitter as a favor. As bitter as a memory, you swipe your tongue on your teeth to rid yourself of the taste but it lingers.

You avert your eyes to your hands, peeling the skin off the edge of your fingernails. After a minute or two, you drive in front of a stoplight. The red reflects onto your sneakers and into Eren’s car.

“So,” He starts, voice filled with that familiar sharpness “How’s the boyfriend?”

Ah. There it is. He almost disarmed you with his silence. It’s a weird way to start scolding you, but you’ve never really understood why Eren does what he does. You sigh, clearing your throat. It’s thick with tears you’ve been shedding all evening.

“Ex-boyfriend.”

The light goes green, and he takes a right. He lives farther than you thought.

“How’d you fuck it up this time?”

Normally, his insistence on blaming you would frustrate you. It’s classically Eren. The projection was always the name of the game when you two were dating, especially at the sour end of your relationship.

Your desire and ability to fight are diminished though, turning into ember and ash. Giving him a shrug, you laugh a bit.

“Don’t know,” You say with a little more honesty than you were intending to “I just uh. I don’t know.”

He sighs this time, and his voice goes a touch soft. Sympathy feels worse than his anger. How pathetic you must look settles in.

“...What happened?”

It’s hard to get yourself to say it. Even though you know it. Getting the words out feels like climbing a mountain. You lean back into the headrest and turn away from him. Watching the passing cars intently, you smile.

“He cheated on me. From uh, a girl with his hometown,” You say, forthright. Hoping his pity might make him go easy on you “His first love. I came home and found them in our bed,”

You can feel him go stiff beside you.

You realize that anything he said to you right now probably wouldn’t hurt. The numb pain outweighs everything else that you think it’d slide off your back.

“And?”

“Uh... I don’t know. She left. And we got into a fight. Broke up with him and said I’d figured something out. Just didn’t really want to be in the same room with him,” You sigh, rubbing underneath your eyes “Packed my shit and sort of wandered around trying to figure out what to do. Called you when I saw how late it got,”

“Should’ve called me earlier,” He says simply. You chuckle.

“Like when?”

He huffs.

“Earlier. Would’ve picked you from his place and fought him or something.”

You smile somberly.

“I thought about it, buut I thought that'd upset him, so I didn’t,”

This he scoffs at, anger in his voice.

“That’s so like you,”

You wish you could disagree.

“Yeah,” You say back, unsure of what else to do “Yeah, guess it is.”

“What’re you gonna do now?”

You take a deep breath in.

“I won’t be in your hair long. I’ll try and score an Airbnb and wait it out. Leaving early is expensive as fuck.”

“You could stay with me if it’s just a couple of weeks,” He offers easily “Airbnbs are more expensive than a ticket, right?”

“Would your girlfriend be okay with that? Does she know you’re picking me up?”

He stares out into the road, jaw clenched.

“We broke up a while ago.”

“What happened there?”

“None of your business.”

You scoff.

“Of course, it isn’t,” You reply, a little angrier than you can control “Your personal life never is. My mistake. I’m a little rusty on how this works.”

His voice is so cold it’s chilling.

“Don’t,” He grits, hands hard on the steering wheel “Don’t fucking start,”

“I’m not trying to start anything. But it’s hypocritical for you to ask me about the shit that just happened and not even tell me why you and your girlfriend broke up.”

“I’m doing you a favor,” He justifies in a half-hearted way you’ve grown accustomed to “I deserve to know,”

You laugh, voice strangled.

“You deserve a fucking foot up your ass,” You spit, suddenly shaking “A simple ‘It’s complicated or ‘I don’t want to talk about it right now’ would’ve sufficed.”

“You’re still good at picking fights,” He goads, mouth twisted in a sneer “Did you nag him too? Maybe that’s why he went crawling back to his first love”

It’s too far. He’s too far, and he knows it. It’s all over his face, even masked in anger. You shoot him a deadly look, arms crossed over your chest. Suddenly, tears well up in your eyes and you can’t even look at him. It was a mistake, of course it was. You shouldn’t have bothered. Expecting anything from Eren was your own fault. Even basic decency.

Whatever camaraderie you used to have dissolved a long time ago. You bite your tongue

“You’re the fucking worst,” You sniffle, closing your eyes “Just drop me off at a hotel. I don’t want to be around you. It’s my fault for assuming you’d be civil.”

His hands are gripping the steering wheel tight.

“Tell me how you really feel,” His voice is dripping with sarcasm. “I think I’m being plenty civil right now,”

“Fuck. Do you get off on provoking me? On hurting my fucking feelings?” Your voice comes to a scratchy yell, unable to contain the anger in it “I just got fucking cheated on. In the middle of a city where I don’t know a single person other than you. You’re the last person I want to fucking see, Eren. The last,”

“So why’d you call me crying?”

“I didn’t have a choice! If I had a choice, I would’ve called anyone else. Would’ve called Jean or Connie or Armin—anyone. Anyone who isn’t fucking you.”

He clicks his teeth.

“Liar,” He says with the sort of confidence that floors you “You would’ve still called me even if everyone we know was in the city,”

It stings that he’s right. Your strength crumbles.

“So what if that’s true? What does it matter that I thought of you? That’s always been my issue, right? How’d you put it again?” You laugh out loud, a little out of it “I should stop expecting anything from you, right? It’s my fault. I should just stop having expectations for anyone. It must be me.”

He looks a little strained. Almost sorry. You scoff.

“Yeah,” You mumble, exhausted “You’re right. I shouldn’t expect anything from anyone. No matter how much I heal, or how hard I try to do the right thing”

“Y/N—”

“I worked on myself. Went to therapy. Took time off from dating altogether. Did everything right and still,” Your mouth fills with iron “Still. Still. I can’t find one person to treat me decently. Congrats, Yeager. It’s just like you hoped.”

The silence that follows says more than you ever could. You rub your temple. He’s probably right that you pushed it.

“Sorry for snapping on you,” You reply, voice tense “But, I still want to be dropped off at a hotel.”

“Why?”

You laugh.

“What do you think? Think we’re gonna be able to play house for two weeks? It hasn’t even been an hour and we’re fighting,”

He’s thinking. You can see it on his face, the tight strain of his jaw, and his brows. You haven’t seen him in person for more than a couple of years. But the familiarity always lingers. It doesn’t feel unusual, even the fighting.

He hasn’t changed. That much is obvious.

You shouldn’t have called, you think. It might’ve been better to get hypothermia and walk to the nearest motel.

“It’s not your fault he cheated on you,” He says. You think it’s his way of apologizing, a piss poor attempt at comforting you “Guys are just scumbags. Hung up on their first love or whatever. It’s not uncommon,”

You don’t know if you want to laugh or cry. Frankly, you don’t have the energy for either.

“Does that include you?” You attempt to joke. To your surprise, he laughs. His voice is hoarse, and a touch resentful. Not at you, though. That feels important.

“Yeah.” He replies, not looking over at you “Me especially,”

It’s the first time he’s said as much about himself in your presence. Before it was that you didn’t understand him or that you didn’t get it. It’s too early to retract your previous statement. Hope sparks anyways. For what, you don’t want to know.

You nod sagely.

“You especially,” You affirm without any trouble “At least you know.”

This time, he smiles at you. It’s barely there. This whole conversation and the good nature of it is like walking on eggshells. You both know that.

Eren breaks the silence first as he pulls into another lane.

“Stay with me for tonight,” He offers “Just tonight,”

You don’t know why he insists. A loud yawn slips through your lips and your inclination to protest dwindles before being snubbed out completely. Shivering, you nod. Your head feels heavy.

“If you say so,”

You think you feel a pair of eyes on you before sleep washes over you like a tide. They might be Erens, but in your delirium, you can’t be sure. It doesn’t take much for you to succumb to sleep.

After your car ride ended, Eren woke you up gently to help you inside. This time, he took your luggage without your asking and helped you into his home.

He lives in one of those luxury apartments with a doorman. It’s fancier than you could ever imagine yourself living in. There’s a chandelier in the lobby, with a gym and a pool. Trekking mud into such a nice place makes you feel guilty. Eren seems unbothered.

You take the elevator up to the 7th floor, and then a right into the hallway. Eren fishes the keys out of his pocket, unlocking the door and stepping aside to let you in.

This is a bachelor pad. It’s the first thing that crosses your mind when you enter.

The decoration is minimalist and expensive. Boyish in its extravagance, littered with pricey things only Eren Yeager would buy. The couches are black, the carpet is white and the windows are big panes that overlook the entire city.

A flatscreen takes up most of the room. There’s a kitchen but it looks unused. It’s lived in, in the way that there are running shoes and clothes. Mess that happens when you spend your time somewhere, but it’s void of things a girlfriend would have in the house. You would know.

On one of the walls is a painting of a woman's naked body, tastefully done. From what you remember of Eren’s ex-girlfriend, she’d have his head over something like that.

Eren clears his throat behind you. When you turn to look at him, he looks a little sheepish.

“Broke up a while ago huh,”

He looks surprised at your deduction. You poke your head at the painting.

“She would’ve beat your ass for even thinking about putting that up,”

His expression is affirmative. After you’re done taking it in, all of your sensory issues hit you all at once. You pull the sleeves of your soaked hoodie over your hands but you’re freezing. His eyes widen.

“Ah, shit. Let me get you a towel. I’ll turn the heat up too,”

“Thanks, ‘ren.”

The nickname slips out of habit, but you don’t get a chance to retract it as Eren shuffles off to grab you a towel.

It doesn’t take him very long, a few in hand. You watch him idly as he turns on the heat before hurrying back over to you, shoving towels your way. You make him hold them for a minute, taking off your poncho and hanging it to him.

You dry yourself off to the best of your ability as Eren goes to put away the raincoat.

“Mind if I shower?”

He shakes his head.

“Would be concerned if you didn’t. I can get us food or something while you’re in there,”

“That’s… thoughtful of you. I’d appreciate it. I can Venmo—”

He puts a hand up, sitting on the back of his couch while you dry yourself off.

“Save your money if you’re worried about it.”

“I don’t want to owe you anything.”

Your frank way of speaking to him irritates him, same as always.

“You won’t owe me,” He assures first “I know we hate each other's guts now, but I’m not gonna let you go hungry.”

Warm. It makes you feel warm. You avert your eyes as you dry yourself off.

“Your mom would have your head,” You murmur. He laughs.

“My mom might forgive me. Zeke and my old man would hang me like a flag,”

“How’s Zeke been?”

His expression goes dry. They’re fighting. Eren rolls his eyes.

“Fine. On my ass, as usual. Business is good. I’ve got a niece now. Zeke’s wrapped around her finger,”

You’ve seen it floating on social media. You feel a little melancholy. It must show on your face.

“You should still visit home sometimes. Don’t be a stranger,”

You smile sadly.

“Easier said than done,”

“...Even if you don’t see me. I’m not the only one who misses you. Jean hasn’t stopped bitching about you going to see just Armin.”

You don’t know if he catches it. He misses you. You’re too afraid to confront it but unable to ignore it. You think over his words.

“It’s not like I don’t want to,” You start, voice slow “But after everything… after everything.”

There’s a minute where neither of you talks. Yet it’s not silent. The room is tense with everything you want to say or everything you did. Every regret, every memory starts to buzz all at once inside of your ribs like a spark of electricity through your hollow.

“If tonight didn’t happen, I wouldn’t have ever seen you again,”

He shakes his head with the same confidence as before.

“I would’ve found you.”

He says it like it doesn’t need any explanation. As casual as relaying the weather to you. He gives you a look, scratching his jaw.

“Go shower. How’s Thai? Same as before?”

It takes you a second to find your voice.

“Y-Yeah. Same as before. Where’s your shower?”

He directs his eyes towards the bathroom. You grab your small luggage on your way, offering him a quiet thanks. The sound of your heartbeat thrums in your ears, faster than the pounding rain.

Time passes like sand between your fingers.

After a shower, a change of clothes, and a full stomach - you and Eren are left totally in each other's company. Your expectation of it being awkward or even marginally uncomfortable becomes unthinkable after a while. Despite how late it is, you aren’t tired or all that sad.

Truthfully, you don’t know how to handle how familiar Eren feels. Like a durable winter coat with a heavy and comforting weight on your shoulders. It’s not burdensome to talk to him. He matches your pace and picks up easily on your quips. Natural lulls in conversation don’t feel uncomfortable and every misdirect or anecdote opens the door for more conversation.

Maybe you should’ve expected that. You and Eren grew up together. Along with Mikasa and Armin, and everyone from your hometown. It shouldn’t surprise you that Eren is comfortable.

When you look at him, you see home. If your gaze lingers. even a second too long or if you think for a minute more than necessary, you’re caught in the web of memories you’ve spent your whole life making.

You wonder about your ex-boyfriend. The irony of it isn’t lost on you. Maybe it hurts because you understand perfectly. No matter how much you love after, there’s nothing like first love. If he saw that in her eyes, it’s all that much harder to feel angry.

The only thing keeping you grounded is remembering that you’ve tried before and it failed miserably. It sinks you when you float too close to your heartwarming nostalgia.

The acrid truth is that this is all temporary and circumstantial.

Every now and again you remind yourself you’ve just been very vulnerable. And Eren’s grounding presence is helping you.

Again and again, you remind yourself that.

“High school was so ass,” Eren leans back into the couch, stretching his legs out “Mrs. Carnegie was such a bitch,”

You give him an unimpressed look. He looks like you remember when he’s like this. Having changed into his own clothes, hair tied up messily. He’s adjacent to you on the couch, far enough to stretch his limbs comfortably.

“She was nice to me. She was a bitch to you because you kept interrupting class,”

He rolls his eyes.

“And who was I doing that for?”

Your heart skips a beat. .

“Man, whatever.”

He laughs at you.

“Weak come-back,” He hums, laying his head on the back of his couch. He tilts his head in your direction “I was a good boyfriend in high school at least,” He adds, a little softer.

“You were. You were kinda like a puppy,”

He groans.

“Don’t say it like that, that’s humiliating.”

“What are you talking about? Puppies are cute.”

“Yeah, but hearing that now is embarrassing. I’m a man now,”

You raise a brow.

“Men can't be cute like puppies?”

“No,”

“But Armin is right there,”

“Doesn’t count. He literally looks like a fairy prince. Statistical anomaly,”

That makes you laugh hard enough your stomach hurts.

“Why’re you laughing? Am I wrong?”

“You just said it so seriously. He is an anomaly but I think Connie is cute in a puppy way too,”

“Connie’s bald ass? Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously. I like it, his hair looks good buzzed.”

“You’d find something nice to say about a pile of trash,”

“I like your long hair, Yeager.”

He gives you an unimpressed laugh as you break out into laughter.

“Low fucking blow,”

“Cry,”

This time he laughs instead, throwing a pillow at you. You catch it easily, holding it to your chest.

“I do like the hair though. It’s all you ever talked about,”

He gives you a little smile.

“You remembered. I thought it’d make me look cooler. Alternative or whatever. Don’t know if it’s working,”

“Your fans seem to love it,”

He looks sheepish at the mention of his work. You laugh.

“It gets a mixed response. A lot of people miss the short hair. I mostly keep it long because it’s easier to style,”

“Both are nice. I like your short hair more when I think about it,”

“Yeah?”

“I guess it’s cause it was short when we’re growing up. And uh,”

“When we were dating?”

You give him a tight-lipped smile.

“Yeah. When we were dating, it was always short,”

He closes his eyes, suddenly deep in thought.

“You wanna know why I kept it short?”

You think you’d be better off not knowing.

“...Why?”

“When you’d play with my hair,” Subconsciously, he pushes his hair back a little “I could feel it better when my hair was shorter. Thought if I’d grew it, you wouldn’t touch it cause it’d get greasy quicker.”

All at once, you pull back. Whatevers on your face isn’t enough to make Eren waver when he looks at you. It’s easy to get lost in his eyes. Ocean blue, and full of something dark. Tempting like an abyss or a siren song. You swallow a lump in your throat.

“It’s something I’d do,”

The way Eren stares at you is so intense. You’re dancing around it now. What you both want to talk about it. A conversation that’s gone untouched for more than 4 years. Sober and aching. Different but the same.

Eren breaks the tension first. That’s twice.

“I’d cut my hair short if you asked me,”

You’re quiet.

“I’d do whatever you want,”

“Eren,”

“What?”

What do you say? Don’t? Please? What could you say that means more than his name in your mouth?

“You know what,” You say weakly “You know,”

A conversation you’ve had a hundred times before. It burns like bile rising in your esophagus. Crushed windpipes under the burden of love. Your hands grip the ends of the pillow tighter. He sits up straighter. You don’t want to talk about it.

“Do I?”

“Eren,” A warning.

“There’s not any point in talking around it, “ He shoves his hands in the pockets of his hoodie “Around this. Around us.”

“There is no us,” You correct sharply, shaking your head “Not anymore,”

His face doesn’t have anything you can read. You know yours must read of resentment. Eren is his usual blank.

“There could be,”

You shatter at the sentiment. The hopeful, easy way he says it. Like he doesn’t remember anything, and that you two are strangers. You know better that you aren’t. That no amount of healing can take it all back. Maybe you could forgive Eren, and somewhere far down the line - you could even be friends.

But us is impossible. You tried us. It blew up in your face.

“Fuck you for even saying that,” Your voice comes out garbled “Fuck you for even thinking it,”

“How is it fuck me? For wanting to fix our relationship, seriously?”

You hate him. With everything you have in you, with a burning fiery sort of anger. A resentment that’s spent years strangling you. Every time you’ve bitten your tongue, all the time you tried to fix it.

It’s all so messy and so unspeakbly touchy.

“The sooner you get it out of your head there’s a relationship to fix, the better off we’ll be,”

“Bullshit. Bullshit there’s nothing. I make you feel nothing?”

It’s not what you said. He knows that, but he means what he’s saying. And he knows your answer already because he’s like that. He already knows everything about you. Where to make you hurt, and how to make it sting. Eren is a scar, not a bruise. He stays, for as long as you’re alive. No matter how faint, or how healed - he stays a part of you.

He knows that as much as you do. That’s why it took you so long to leave. Of course you’d end up talking about it like this, but that’s not what you wanted. Or maybe it is. You don’t really know what you want from Eren. What you were hoping for when you stayed up late to talk to him and reminisce. You think just camaraderie.

“I hate you so fucking much,” You croak, wiping away angry tears “More than anyone in my life, I hate your fucking guts,”

“You don’t mean that,”

“I do,” Your reply comes in an angry hush “I can’t forget how we ended Eren. The months after I left were some of the worst of my life. Do you know how long it took me? To get better?”

His jaw clenches.

“I didn’t think you would leave,”

His confession stuns you into silence. His arrogance never fails to astound, Like this, it feels incredibly frustrating. Your stomach sours.

“...You thought I would stay? After everything?”

“You said you would,” He raises his voice this time. He sounds hurt. Angry. Sad. All things you didn’t know he could still feel “You—you fucking promised. It was supposed to be forever and you left first.”

“You can’t be serious,”

“You promised,”

“Yeah,” This time you sit up. Everything hits you at the same time “When I was 17 and in love. Before you treated me like shit,”

He winces. So he does know.

“You remember now, don’t you? You changed. You left for college, you stopped picking up my calls. You were such a fucking flirt that half of your campus thought you were single till I moved in. You remember that Eren?”

His silence makes you madder.

“You remember. right? How I’d desperately try and fix our relationship while you ran around doing whatever? You always looked so fucking indifferent. All we ever did was fight. Nothing I did worked,”

“Y/N—”

“I didn’t know anything other than you. If it was anyone else… But it was you,”

“I’m—”

“You used to tell me when we were kids that if any boy hurt my feelings, you’d kill him. You remember that?”

He closes his eyes.

“Don’t make it sound like I just up and left for nothing. We both know that’s bullshit,” You choke back a sob as you think about it. The gaping hole in your chest that Eren always left splits open again.

“I’ve always loved you. Always. From the minute I could walk and talk. I didn’t leave because I didn’t love you, Eren,” Even now, you don’t want him thinking that “I left because you didn’t love me. I left because I realized that”

The silence that follows your rant exhausts you so much you slump back into the couch. You learned your lessons the hard way. That love was meaningless to safety. That stability was a luxury few can afford. Nothing is guaranteed.

This second time around, you know that love can’t be one-sided. Maybe that’s what all of this has been trying to teach you.

You cry silently, taking in deep breaths. You have no idea what he’ll say, and you don’t know if you care.

“I’m sorry,”

“....What?”

“I’m sorry,” His voice breaks a little this time. You don’t remember the last time you saw him cry “I didn’t mean for things to end like that,”

“Sorry doesn’t fix it,”

You know it’s a mean thing to say. It’s not kind or forgiving. His sincerity doesn’t even feel real to you at the moment he says, but sorry doesn’t make you feel better. Sorry doesn't fix it.

“I know,”

“Then why say it?”

“I still love you,”

Drowning. You’re drowning in murky waters, hardly getting air.

“You don’t love me,”

“Don’t say that,” His voice sounds weak and desperate. You haven’t heard it like that in so long. Vulnerable “Even if you hate my fucking guts. I still love you, always did. Always.”

“Then why did you do that to me?”

“I was terrified,”

It’s been a long time since you’ve seen Eren. Spoken to him, or even called him on the phone. Years. Checking on him through his social media and streams was all you ever got. Sometimes Armin would fill you in, or Mikasa.

But Eren, in your eyes, had remained how you left him. He got arrogant you think. He got his fix and grew up to be tall and handsome. Had aspirations and grew out of his shyness.

And instead of growing together, you grew apart. You started to accept the fact that the Eren you loved was no longer someone you could reach. The young, doe-eyed lovesick boyfriend. Eren was just a college boy now. Not your only exception, not the love of your life.

Accepting that was the hardest thing you’ve had to do in your life.

So why does he sound like someone you used to love? And why now, of all times?

“When you talk like that, it makes me think you’re different.”

“I am,” He stops for a minute, hands folded “I’m trying to be.”

“...Why were you scared?”

“It’s uhm, I don’t know how to say it,”

“Take your time,”

“Doing long distance made me realize how much I needed you,” His voice is hardly over a whisper. “It was ego. But I hated that. I had it in my head that you were off with other guys, and I—I don’t fucking know—I was stupid. I wanted to feel like you still wanted me,”

“So what? You made me chase you?”

“Yeah. Something like that. When you moved in, it just… I don’t know. I saw how everyone looked at you. I didn’t think it would make me so angry to see you like that,”

“Sounds like…”

“Self-sabotage,” Eren interjects “That’s what my therapist said, at least.”

“You’re in therapy?”

“Only a few months, but yeah. It helps.”

“I don’t understand you at all,” You shake your head “ Not at all,”

“You bring out the best and worst in me.” He replies with a humorless laugh on his lips “Still. Around anyone else, it doesn’t matter. What they do or don’t do,”

“And me?”

“You,” He rubs a hand over his face, voice shaking. He tries to be lighthearted but the sentiment is sincere “I make myself sick thinking about you,”

It feels hot under your clothes.

“We shouldn’t be… I shouldn't—”

“I know. You drive me so fucking crazy and I get so angry. I know, but how the fuck could it ever be anyone but you?”

Your breath hitches.

“What’re you saying?”

“That I want you. I want you so fucking bad. I don’t want to ever be away from you ever again. I can’t help but want that,”

You can feel him coming into your space. How he scoots closer to you, just enough that he’s moving across the couch. He’s so much bigger than you remember. Stronger. It's all moving so fast. When he puts his hand on your knee, you tense but don’t move. The dizzying smell of his cologne catches on your tongue and tickles your throat.

His eyes dart down to your lips. His hands running up your outer thighs. You’re defenseless. Weak, you pull back a little. He doesn’t move.

“I can’t just forgive you overnight—”

“I know,” He leans in a little more. Close enough that his breath touches your skin “I’ll keep trying. I want to try again. I’ll earn it this time. I’ll chase you, and you can ignore me all you want,”

He’s being cheeky as much as he’s being serious. Classically Eren. You’re so screwed.

You feel your throat close up as he inches forward.

“You’re so bad for me.” You whisper, the words too heavy.

“Two sides of the same coin,” He says back, then he smiles “We’re made for each other. You think that too. I know you do,”

“I wanted stability,”

“I’ll try to give you it. If that’s what you want.”

“And if you’re just a rebound?”

“As long as I’m yours,”

“You’re such a scumbag.”

“I know,”

Everything falls from under you the minute you kiss him.

A little noise of surprise leaves his lips that instantly morphs into desire. It’s an uncouth display of emotions, so animal that you can hardly call it love. It’s something in between love and hatred, the opposite of indifference. All the intensity of life, of every terrible emotion you’ve ever had. You kiss Eren Yeager first because you miss him, despite yourself. Everything after that is just another blurry detail.

He moans into your mouth. Where your hand has landed on his chest, he grabs your wrist and then drags you into his lap without ever breaking apart. You end up over him, with his lap under yours.

When he has you where he wants you, he hugs you close to his body. You can feel the hardlines of muscle through his shirt, his arms secure around your back. Your tits are pressed against his chest, bra forgotten. The slightest brushes are what make you feel the most.

Eren’s shaky breaths and the overwhelming way his lips move against yours. Indecision in how to treat you. Soft kisses that are followed by rough ones. The intensity of your own desire consumes your ability to act cordial, as you squeeze against Eren tight.

You can feel the rapid beat of Eren’s heart in his chest, grinding your hips into his.

In between kisses, he makes sure to nip at your jaw. You can feel his teeth pierce your pulse point, his tongue lapping over the leftover wound that leaves you shaking.

He litters bites like that on every inch of your skin, your neck left with an ache. There’s something ironic in Eren licking your wounds over, but the words escape you before you can utter them.

Even in just being claimed, the feeling is intense. It makes you visceral. Not to be worked up from touch or words, but something else entirely. Something cosmic in it’s very existence.

Eren finally pulls away from you, just barely to glance at your swollen lips. He meets your eyes as his teeth sink into the lower one to make you whine. He talks to you while your eyes are locked.

“Fuck,” His voice is thick with lust. Heat splits you right in half “Fuck, fuck, baby. Been so long,”

“Y-Your hands,”

“Can’t take em off you,” They’re smooth as they feel you up. Shamelessly squeezing the fat of your hips in between in his fingers, grabbing your ass hard. A guilt creeps up for comparing him to your ex-boyfriend.

But all you can think about is how Eren is the opposite of stability. Images pop up of when you used to have sex, so many years before. He was meeker before, less assured. You thought his confidence would make you sick, but it doesn’t.

Rather, the look on his face while he gropes you makes you wet. Chewing his lower lip, feeling your body like he’s dying to see it under his clothes. Impatiently and unabashedly wanting you in a way that is distinctly Eren.

There’s truth in the sentiment that no one could ever fuck you like Eren could. It’s one you’ve kept to yourself for so long that you almost forgot it. Eren knew your body and shaped it to his hands years ago. You like being touched because of how he touched you, a memory you carried like a torch.

It was Eren who wanted you first, who fucked you first, who made you cum first when you were both so awkward and clumsy.

“Look at you,” He groans. His hands inch under your shirt, skin on skin. Pinching your nipples gently, till they’re hard against your shirt “Look how sexy you are,”

He knows what you like, what you like being told.

“My pretty fucking girl,”

Fuck. Of course, he remembers that.

“Oh, you—”

“So pretty,” He parrots. Even with electricity buzzing in his movements, he’s patient. Undresses you gently. When your skins bare, your shirt tossed to the other side of the room, he kisses the underneath of your tits. Each one, he kneads them. Appreciates them, worships them. All of that undivided attention that he always used to give you when you were dating.

When you were in love.

“You still like when I tease ‘em too,”

His tongue runs over your hardened nipple, sucking it into his mouth, His free hand occupies the other, taking time to give them both equal attention. Your body starts to ignite, little sparks of electricity flitting up your spine.

Letting your fingers card through his hair, you glance down. He looks up at you with his mouth full, eyes lidded. His lashes are long against his olive skin, sun freckles over the bridge of his nose. Your hands reach to touch the moles along his cheeks, all in places you remember.

You don’t resist the urge for intimacy. Not things you did with your ex, but with Eren. You press a kiss to his hairline and his hands get a little tighter. Your want expands, fills like a balloon.

Feeling his cock nudge against your shorts is surprising. A blush crawls over his face, grinding his hips up into you. It’s muscle memory to do it back - rocking yourself until he’s nestled between you. Dry-humping like this makes you feel like a teenager again, doing this in Eren’s dingy basement when you weren’t ready to lose your virginity.

Except Eren knows what he’s doing. He shifts his weight, sitting up enough to push up against your clit. His mouth deatches, a string of saliva in his place. The cool air against the swell of your tits make, adds to the sensation.

He grabs your ass again, this time just to push you up. To set a pace as you grind against each other.

“Wanna know something?”

You choke back a whimper.

“Mm,”

“I used to jack thinking about you,” His voice is slick when he speaks, a low whisper “Remember? You used to be too sensitive so you’d rub against the edge of your bed. Thought about it all the time after you told me,”

Your jaw drops open.

“You—”

“You’re a big girl now, aren’t you? Not too sensitive for this, but—,” He does it with more purpose, a long slow drag so you can feel his shaft against your clothed cunt “you still like it slow,”

“Eren, holy—”

“Everything you like,” He hums, this time matching how he moves you with his own body “Still remember every detail,”

“Y-Yeah?”

“Yeah baby,” He dips his head to kiss against the column of your throat again, this time sucking deep dark hickies. You can feel his lips when you moan “Everything. Kept me company,”

You’re almost too afraid to ask what he means.

“Eren,” You half beg, fingers twitching with want “Don’t tease me,”

“What do you need?”

“Uhm,” Embarrassed. For some reason, Eren asking you is making you embarrassed. You’ve never been before “This is so humiliating,”

“You were always shy about asking for it,”

“So why’re you making me, asshole?”

“I like watching you squirm,”

“Shut up, you’re awful,”

“Put something in my mouth, then?”

Your eyes go wide, and he smiles. His breath brushes against the shell of your ear.

“You wanna sit on my face, right? Shut me up,”

It was a stupid arguement you had. At the latter half of your relationship, sometimes the only way you two resolved things was sex. Eren referencing it makes you mad as much as it makes you wet.

When you were both a little inebriated, he used to beg you for it.The memories of that make you nod. Your voice is coarse with lust.

“Wanna sit on your face,”

“Take your shorts off,”

Taking off your clothes is haphazardly done. You and Eren part ways. He takes off his shirt and hoodie to reveal a body cut from pure marble. He was always athletic, but clearly his gym rat posting on his IG story were genuine and not for show. He sends you a little smirk when he catches you staring, flexing his muscles a little.

“Do I look good?”

You nod, awestruck as you wriggle out of your shorts leaving you in just your socks. Eren does the rest slowly, stood up and taking off his sweatpants His thighs are muscular, strong with a little dark hair. It’s on his stomach too, just barely there.

The fabric of his boxers strain against his cock. It’s big, bulges against the black material that you can see the skin. It’s intimidating to look at.

Your eyes follow him to the couch. You watch him get comfortable, moving pillows around to make sure there’s enough space. He flashes you a smile when he’s laid down, untying his hair as a last touch.

“Come here, angel,” He signals, waving you over “Come sit,”

The air brushes past you as you approach him. He reaches a hand out to lace with your hands.

“Face that way. So you can hold onto my hair, yeah?”

“Yeah,”

It takes you a minute. It’s easier to climb over his chest, inching towards his face. When you’re spread right over his neck, he gives you a cheeky grin. His hands reach over your thigh, pulling you apart. His eyes are zeroed in on your clit, finger brushing back the hair on you. The affectionate way he does both makes you want to hide away.

Eren is holding you in place so you can’t move.

“Look at that,” He whispers, breath fanning your cunt “Look at how wet you got for me,”

Instead of putting his tongue where you need it, he cranes his neck to one side and presses kisses into your inner thigh. Licking at the skin, he holds your eyes.

“Tell me something,”He goes an inch highe and leaves a hickey before repeating it a little bit aove “Did he ever get you this wet? You can be honest,”

Your clit throbs between your legs. Eren grins, as you squirm. You look down at him, shaking your head.

“Not like you. I mean, he wasn’t bad but he wasn’t—”

“But he wasn’t me, was he?” He goes on, his lips pressing right against your achy clit, arousal on his lips that he licks with ease “Could never be me, could he?”

“Eren,” You whine. His smile gets bigger, tongue licking one long stripe against your folds.

“Say it baby. That I’m the best you’ve ever had?”

Your reply is a meek yeah. It’s hard to do anything with confidence or self-assurance when your entire body is begging to be pleasured. Eren gives you a few more kisses on your clit, like he’s making out with it. It’s sweet and lazy, making your hips buck for more.

“I’m the same,” He coos, sticking his tongue out as he forces your weight down so you’re not longer hovering but sitting on his face “There’s nothing like you,”

He doesn’t hesitate to dive in right after that. Burying himself deep, your hands immediately fix at the base of his hair. He’s not shy about it, his tongue laid flat, creating just enough suction around to feel. It’s perfectly pracited, familiar.

Eren eats you out from memory. That much is obvious to you as soon as you feel him, the wet heat of his mouth and his tongue. It’s a measured build of pleasure, soothing a long-time ache that slowly escalates to something more.

A mewl escapes your throat. He moans against your pussy, nose bumping against you. Tugging at the roots of his hair, you wiggle your hips to get him to give you more.

You feel the coil in your tummy when Eren goes a little deeper, sucks a little harder, moves a little faster. Encouraging you to use him to the best of your ability as he pushes your hips, nails dug in the skin to keep you steady Looking down makes you see him completely blissed out, like he’s in a comfortable dream.

You don’t really remember the last time someone went down on you like this without asking. Like he’s enjoying it all on his own, like he wants you. There’s vigor to how he takes you into his mouth, tastes you greedily, with appreciative grunts and groans.

The word perfect falls flat to how Eren licks your pussy. Perfect is too prim, too neat. Whatever Eren makes you feel between your legs, is far from perfect. Eren is something more. More intangible, hard to touch. He eats your pussy perfectly, but messily. Desperately, lovingly. Every inch of you is wanted, tongue nestled against your folds and on your hard clit like he wants to stay. He looks at you intoxicated and it shows in how much joy he takes in tasting you. Hitched to your very existence, like a planet revolving around the sun.

He does it like it’s a privilege, a divine gift. Sucks like it’s sweet, ripe fruit in scorching summers. Water in an oasis, deserving of only the highest praise. Not worth wasting even for pride. Shameless.

You can feel yourself tipping closer and closer to the familiar edge. Each second pushes you to it, closer and closer and closer before you feel the feeling again. Deep in your body, undoing you completely.

“Eren, oh—”

You cum hard. It’s the first one, the most intense. Eren is unyielding as you hit your high and start to fall back down, catching on each layer of the ozone. You moan his name over and over, Eren, Eren, Eren. It’s all you can think to say. The only person you’d trust to catch you from this high, you fall foward. Hand gripping on the couch, you try to wiggle away but he won’t let you until he’s had his fix.

When he pulls away, he takes in a deep breath.

You lean back, catching sight of his face. It’s dripping down his chin. He reaches his hands to wipe it with his fingers, then sticks his hands up to you.

“Open your mouth up,” He says, pushing his fingers against your tongue “Or come down here and clean me up, maybe?”

You widen your eyes. Curiosity getting the better of you, you wiggle down until you’re face level with him. He gives you a glance, encouraging you. Unsure, you push your tongue out against his neck, tracing down to his adams apple. He groans, voice vibrating.

“Fuck yeah,” His hands comes around the back fo your neck “Just like that baby. That’s perfect,”

Your memory reminds you. You repeat your actions, tongue dragging over his nec and chin, presses kisses and bites all along his jaw and neck. Eren moans above you appreciatively. The sound is pleasing. Hearing it over and over eggs you on to “clean” him up well until you reach his lips.

The way he kisses you is sweet and gentle. He kisses your lips before peppering them on your face.

“Fuck, look at what you’re doing to me.”

“Making you sappy?”

“Already was. I’m so hard for you right now, it’s fucking stupid,”

You let out a whine.

“Mm,”

“Condoms upstairs,”

“Don’t need ‘em. ‘s fine. Just give it to me how it is,”

He shivers against your body.

“I wanna cum just thinking about it,”

“Don’t think about it and come fuck me,”

He laughs, handing coming down on your ass.

“Get up,”

You stand up and Eren follows suit. He gives you a quick peck before whispering in your ear.

“Bend over the edge of the couch for me,”

Shivering, you nod your head and walk beind the couch. You shoot Eren a look over your shoulder, seeing him ease his cock out of his boxers to give it a quick stroke. It’s just high enough that you struggle to get over it all the way. His eyes are piercing, watching you as you bend over like he asks. You push your ass towards him.

“Like this?”

“That’s perfect, angel. Stay like that,”

You can hear him coming towards you. The weight of his body, bare chest against your spine is almost startling. He’s not crushing you, but you’re still completely pinned under underneath him. You wriggle your hips back, struggling to move.

His hand creeps lower and lower, finger slipping through your folds. He feels you up like that for a while, whistling.

“You’re so wet,” He coos. His voice is smooth in your ear. You moan. He rests his chin just over your shoulder as you turn your head to kiss him. Slowly, he slips his middle finger inside. You’re surprised how little resistance there is really. The pad of his finger reaches far, rubs against your g-spot without second guessing it.

Your squealing makes him do it again. It’s a careful move. Your body responds to him eagerly as he slips another one, steady. Until he’s knuckle deep, stretching out unhurriedly. When it’s no longer a tight fit, he pulls away from you.

Over you, he repositions. You can hear him spit in his hand behind you, the way his palms move against his cock. It’s all completely quiet besides that, lewd little noises that clue you into what he’s doing. Not seeing him makes the anticipation greater, leaves you vulnerable to whatever he wants to do.

“Missed this pretty pussy so much,” He hisses, the head of his cock pushing past your folds until he’s snug against your hole. The muscle clenches “So fucking warm,”

“Eren,”

He pushes forward, a calculated push of hips. You both moan when he enters you. Just the tip, just the familiar curve of his cock. Your inside ache, deep inside. A place only Eren could reach, you think. He groans nto your ear. Your feet are barely touching the floor in this position, Hardly reaching the ground, toes holding you up. The back of the couch digs into your stomach. It’s puts a pressure on your lower belly, that Eren must feel.

All your muscles are tense. Tight. The tip of his cock rubs against your walls. He’s so hard. Intrusive. You clench around him again. Jaw agape, you moan as he pushes even further.

“See that?” He whispers, against the shell of your ear. His hands grab yours, putting them behind your back till your defenseless “She remember me,”

The moan you let out is entirely involuntary once it hits you he means your pussy. Your walls spasm around him. He chuckles at that.

“That’s right. She loves me even if you don’t, doesn’t she?” Pulling his hips back until your empty, he fills you again. Harder this time. You choke on air “We made love tonight, didn’t we?”

“Eren, shit”

“I like when you say my name baby,” He says, another thrust “Like when your pretty pussy welcomes me home. It’s mine, isn’t it? Always has been. Bet he wasn’t making you feel like this, was he?”

All at once, you feel Eren for what he’s worth. You feel his cock, the curve and the shape the weight as it drags inside of you. You feel the weight of his body, all the stretch in your thighs as he casts over you like a shadow. The gravelly way that he speaks reverberating in your bones. He’s fucking you like he’s all the way in the bottom of your stomach.

Like a puzzle piece, Eren completes you on a level no one else in the world could. The way he talks to you reflects his, confidence not unearned. He’s cocky and awful, but his dick is doing this to you. Making your mouth fall open until your drooling underneath him. He answers every craving you ever had, that bone-deep sense of dissatisfaction that you’ve spent an entire year burying.

Eren fucks you like he’s in love with you, and only you. His cock kisses your cervix, and it feels like the same kind done at weddings. A vow to you, a promise. It feels so fucking good when Eren fucks you. Nothing in the world could ever quite comparing to that satisfaction. Deep in your body, primal and hungry.

“You were made for me,” He pants in your ear “Made just for me. No matter how far you go, I’ll find you. Remind you that. You get it now?”

You whimper out loud. Yes comes out naturally. Eren kisses your shoulder blade before sinking his teeth into it.

“Knew you would,

Eren fucks you the only way he’s ever known to. Deep and paced. You can’t say how he does it with anyone else, but with you it’s always been the same. Like he’s carving you out with his cock, the way you’ve always needed. You know you’re starting to be close again with each thrust. It’s a memory that your body welcomes.

Eren knows what you need to cum, but he waits. Like always, he keeps at it until your walls are tremor. Until you’re just getting there, and you need the extra push to get you to your end. He keeps you at the end as he fucks you, whispers filthy things in your ear until you reach the point of desperation that you’re begging.

“Please, Eren,” At your limit, pleaing “Please make me cum,”

“There’s the magic word,”

He snakes a hand around, reaching your clit and giving it a gentle rub. Everything happens at once. It’s perfect motion. Equilibrium. You can feel your knees start to give in as he gives it to you, the tension gently easing out. A carbonated soda, cracked open slowly to make way for the big finish. The release. Eren speaks to you again.

“Cum for me angel. Give it to me,”

Like a seismic wave, you cum hard on Eren’s cock just like he asked. He’s not far behind you, thrusting through the waves of pleasures. Your brain melts out of your ears completely, babbling to him to give you his cum too.

And he does in record time, shallowly rutting into you until you’re full of him, shooting deep. You feel your insides painted white, content at the feeling.

When he pulls out of you, you feel it drip onto his hardwood floors. You’re unsure of what comes next, but he pulls you right into your arms. Into his chest, even with wobbly legs.

“I’m not gonna let you go again,” He assures, more to himself than to you “You’re mine. Forever and always,”

Against your better judgement, you give in. Just for now. Just for the time being.

9K notes · View notes

badbitxhbuckybarnes · 2 years

Text

NIHARIKA HAS DONE IT AGAIN

1K notes · View notes

badbitxhbuckybarnes · 2 years

Text

this is so cute i think the butterflies in my stomach is about to explode

Moon Struck

Summary: Steven asks you out, Marc falls in love.

"“Cheers,” Steven chirps quietly, ignoring Marc. He knows he has a goofy smile on his face, he knows that he’s just staring at you.

But you’re smiling back and Marc is strangely quiet now, a glow of happiness lingers there. Steven has a suspicion that he’s happy too, basking in the fact that you said yes."

Pairing: Steven Grant x Reader, Marc Spector x Reader

Word Count: ~8.3k

Warnings: mostly fluff, canon-typical violence, threats of violence, angst mostly from Marc because he's just like that

A/N: My first moon knight fic! Please, please, please let me know what you think!

“Steven!”

Steven ignores the shout of his headmate as he hurries through the museum.

He’s late, and he so hated making you wait for him. He had promised you long ago a personal tour of the museum. One you had insisted for months he eventually give you, when he had time.

His heels drag, Marc putting on the brakes as he fronts for just a moment.

Steven nearly drops the travel cup of tea he’s carrying, briefly tripping over his own feet and drawing the attention of several nearby people listening to a museum tour guide.

“Sorry!” He gives an awkward wave before continuing on.

“Would you stop that, Marc!” He glances at his reflection in the display case he’s passing. “You’re making us late.”

“I’m making you late. I didn’t agree to this.” Marc’s shoulders are tense, the line of his brows drawn together.

Steven wonders if he’s wearing the same expression and briefly passes a hand over his face. He doesn’t want to be scowling when-

He bursts through a doorway, into the Egyptian exhibition, and spots you waiting exactly where you said you would be.

A shy smile tugs at his mouth, and he tries straightening his shirt collar and running a hand through his unruly curls. He knows it's useless, that his shirts are perpetually wrinkled and his hair nearly always a mess.

Marc has gone sullenly silent, and he knows he’s watching you too.

Marc, for reasons Steven cannot begin to parse out, does not like you.

Or, he pretends not to.

Again, for reasons unknown.

Which is entirely bonkers, because you are the most brilliant person Steven has ever met.

He fidgets with the sleeve of his shirt, which is worried and frayed at the edges from his nervous fingers.

Despite rushing moments earlier, he’s now anxious about how to actually approach you.

You were his friend, he should have no problem with walking over and saying hello.

Steven shifts from foot to foot as people swim around him in the doorway. He’s acutely aware that he’s stood in everyone’s way, the cup of tea in his hand going cold.

The other thing he’s been promising you for months, a proper cup of tea.

“Good,” Marc says, reflected in another display case, hands on his hips, chin lifted, “you see how stupid this is. Let’s go home.”

But it isn’t stupid.

It’s not stupid to want this.

It’s not stupid to want you.

Steven swallows, watching you move to read another plaque.

As you read, your shoulders droop and then you dig in the bag slung over your shoulder. You glance at your phone when you find it, before tucking it away again.

Then, you glance at your wristwatch, like it might tell you a different time than your phone had.

You sigh and move toward the exit.

Which is Steven’s cue to call your name, loudly.

So loudly in fact that people turn to look at him.

Brilliant. Already making a fool of myself.

“Which is why we should just go home-,” Marc starts, but Steven ignores him.

Marc, the absolute worry wart, thought you would break his heart.

You’re smiling at him, a hand lifted in greeting as he approaches you. He would like to think you look relieved, happy to see him.

But you’re like the sun, and probably look at everyone that way.

He nearly stumbles into you, hastily handing you the cup of tea, wrapping your fingers around the cooling paper cup, his fingers laced over yours.

“I was meant to bring you a proper cup and here I am with cold tea.”

“Hardly very polite of you,” you tease. “Late to meet someone and with a cold cup of tea.” You smile and tsk under your breath.

Steven fidgets and releases your hand on the cup, fingers nervously tangling together in front of his chest instead. “I’m really so very sorry. I’m always running late. I-I meant to be early today-,”

“Oh, my God,” Marc mutters.

You lie a hand against Steven’s arm, stilling the nervous fluttering of his hands. “I was teasing you. It’s alright. I do expect an extra long tour though.”

Steven nods, staring at the shape of your eyes, the flutter of your lashes, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

You’re quite close to him, his head bent over yours, and he thinks he can see all the shades hidden in your eyes.

“You look like a love-struck moron,” he catches the reflection of Marc behind your head, arms crossed over his chest, brows still pulled together in that irritated line. “Stop staring at her like that.”

But he notices that Marc is staring at you too, looking at the back of your head, like he could see to the marrow of you, and your intentions, if he just looked hard enough.

But there’s a dip in his voice that makes Steven think he might be just a tiny bit jealous.

Steven shakes his head, trying to ignore Marc’s acid comments.

“Of course,” he says, glancing down at your hands, the cup held between them. “Would you try it, please?”

Steven had been shocked to find out you were a coffee drinker only, that you had never really tasted tea, at least not a proper cup.

“I’ve had iced tea,” you had offered weakly, only for Steven to wrinkle his nose.

“Cold tea? Why would anyone enjoy that?”

Now, he’s brought you a cup of cold tea anyways, and it was tea that wasn’t even meant to be cold.

You smile at him, lifting the cup as you brightly say, “Cheers!” in your best impression of his accent.

It’s quite terrible, and makes him laugh.

You take a sip, a considering look pulling over your features.

“It’s really better when it's hot,” Steven says, awaiting your verdict like it really mattered, like it was incredibly important that you liked the cup of tea he had brought you.

You tilt your head to the side and nod, “It's still warm.” You take another sip, which Steven takes as a good sign. Marc is watching you too, and Steven knows that Marc thinks he isn’t noticing the intense attention he gives you. “I like it. Did you put something else in it?”

Honey.

He had put honey in despite his better judgment, because he noticed the way you absolutely hammered your coffee with sugar packets.

“Honey,” he murmurs softly as you look into his eyes with a bemused smile on your face. “Just a bit. Figured you might like it better that way.”

“Can’t say I’m a convert. Coffee will always have my heart,” you say. “But it is very good.”

Steven is glad, so glad, you like it.

Maybe it makes him unreasonably happy.

“Cheers,” he says, still watching you carefully, smiling, his face very near to yours. He can see the fluttering of your lashes, feel the ghost of your breath.

You don’t seem to mind the closeness.

Marc rolls his eyes, and Steven puts a hand on your arm to pull you away from the reflection.

So he doesn’t have to think about his annoyed alter.

He tries not to be too upset with Marc, with his brooding protective streak. But he does wish that he’d lighten up just a bit.

Steven’s heart is soft, it was going to be broken no matter what happened in their life. He was okay with that, especially if it meant spending time with you.

But that was a hard pill for Marc to swallow.

His habit of shielding Steven was still a hard one to break, even now they were working together.

“Where would you like to start?” Steven asks you, something like pride filling his veins as he watches you continue to sip at the cup of earl gray.

“You’re the expert,” you say, looping your arm through his. “You tell me where we should start. Although, I’m very interested in Taweret, after the stories you’ve told me.”

“Oh, she’s bloody amazin’,” Steven says, watching the quirk of your lips as he takes your duffle bag from you, slinging it over his own shoulder, conscious of Marc’s silence at the back of his mind. “‘Course we can start with her.”

Steven leads you, the pressure of your fingers against his arm welcome, a warmth spreading up from his belly to land at the back of his mouth.

It makes his heart ache and his fingers tremble.

The feeling is strange and welcome.

He likes you.

Quite a lot, actually.

Which was why he hoped today was the day he finally managed to ask you out, the reason Marc tried so desperately to make them late.

He had met you before he knew about Marc, before their grand Egyptian adventure and Khonshu.

When he first met you some months ago, you were wandering the halls of the museum, a duffle bag much like the one you have today slung over your shoulder, your head tilted to the side as you examined an exhibit.

Steven was meant to have been helping Donna move gift shop inventory when he spotted you, brows furrowed as you read a plaque. It was the way you stood that caught his attention, with your toes pointed out and heels together.

He couldn’t have looked away if he tried, and so he wasn’t surprised when he ran into someone and dropped the box of inventory, stuffed goddesses and cheap replicas of the pyramids spilling across the floor right to the tips of your toes.

People weren’t exactly nice to Steven.

He didn’t have any friends, his co-workers overlooked him, forgot him, or were rude to him. He had his mother, of course, but things always seemed to keep them from speaking directly.

He knows the truth now, about his and Marc’s mother, about Marc.

Still, that day, as the man he bumped into gave him a dirty glare as he turned away, you had stooped down next to him and helped him tuck the merch back into the box.

You had been kind to him, friendly as no one else was.

Your hand had touched his and it had been like those moments in all the cheesy rom-coms he didn’t remember watching. He had looked up into your eyes, realizing he was still apologizing repeatedly out loud.

“Hey,” you had said, before tilting your head to the side and glancing down, “It’s okay. Do you need some help?”

No one offered Steven help, not with anything, even when he asked for it.

And so he swallowed and nodded even though you, as a patron of the museum, should not have helped him. He should have refused your gentle help.

But you’d helped him until Donna came along and shooed you away.

He’d thought that he’d never see you again, but you visited the museum all the time, at least once a week.

He found out that you’d recently moved to London, that you were a staunch coffee only person, that you were a dancer, that your childhood dream had been to be an archeologist before your talent for dance had destroyed that hope.

You were more interested in Greek and Roman mythology, but quickly became fascinated with Egypt, and Steven had been delighted, weirdly, bizarrely proud that he had put you onto it.

That you read the books he recommended, that you listened to the music he told you about. That you listened to him without interrupting, or sighing, or checking the time.

Well, those things were only an incredible bonus.

You made his throat close up some nights when he lay trying not to fall asleep, because you were the first friend he can remember having besides Gus or his mother.

Steven was lonely, but you made his world a little less so.

Now he has Marc, who’s more than enough company some days, a friend that never left him.

He’d been worried, upon coming back to London, that you wouldn’t be there, that he had dreamed you up and you were never real in the first place.

He’d been excited to let Marc see you through his own eyes, though Marc claimed with indifference that he remembered you, that he already knew you through Steven and didn’t need to meet you properly.

Steven had a suspicion that the disinterest was feigned, that he cared too, to know if you were still in London.

Steven didn’t work at the museum anymore, and so it had taken a week of hanging around the place to finally catch you there one day after a rehearsal.

To his utter horror, you had been visibly upset with him. Though he had missed you and worried after you, he never imagined that you would do the same for him. “I thought you just - I thought maybe something horrible happened. You just disappeared and they said you were fired? I thought you disappeared and didn’t bother saying goodbye. Steven what happened-,”

You had demanded his phone number, so you could always reach him.

It was amazing really, that you had never had it before.

Steven was just grateful you were still around, still coming by the museum.

Most worryingly though, Marc had not been impressed with you. Or pretended not to be. Though he tried to hide it, Steven always had a keen sense of how Marc really felt, and Marc cared more than he ever let on.

Now, though, he feels the gentle pressure of your fingers against his arm and thanks whatever god that might be listening, that you were still around, a person that rolled with the punches life dealt.

Against the advice of his alter, who had almost seemed nervous, Steven had told you everything about what happened in Egypt, about Khonshu and Marc and Layla and Ammit and everything in between.

“Don’t do it,” Marc had snarled. “She’s gonna think you’re nuts. She’s going to-.

Marc hadn’t finished his thought.

Whatever ridicule and judgement he had anticipated, you hadn’t fallen to his expectations.

You had listened and somehow understood.

“So,” you ask now as Steven leads you through the museum, “How is Marc?”

“Being a bit of a knobhead at the moment, to be honest,” Steven says, watching the smile that tugs at your mouth.

“Oh. Khonshu related or..?”

Steven’s always honest with you, and so he doesn’t lie now. “Wasn’t too keen on my meeting you today, actually.”

You nod as Steven leads you past an exhibit, into an adjoining room, past a miniature construction of the Pyramids of Giza. “Marc doesn’t exactly like me, does he?”

Steven waits for the snort from Marc, for a derisive comment. But nothing comes.

The silence is more telling than anything.

“No, he’s just a bit-,” Steven stops, wiggles his fingers, not really sure how to explain exactly how Marc was.

You smile weakly at him, “We don’t have to talk about it, Steven. I know he’s very protective. In any case, I’m glad you like me. And I really care for you. I hope Marc knows that, at least.”

Marc remains stubbornly silent.

Steven gives you the tour of the museum he always dreamed of giving when he worked there. You listen to him attentively, you ask him questions, and for the remainder of the day, Marc is quiet, though Steven knows he’s present, listening in instead of walling himself off.

Mostly Marc leaves Steven be, when he’s with you. He can’t be mad at the happiness you bring, though he tries to protect the system in his own way. Steven knows it's why he’s so surly though he wishes he’d give you a chance.

Marc claims that one of them needs to be clear headed, rational, when you inevitably break their heart.

So, he’s surprised, when you’re leaving the museum near closing and asking Steven about what brand of tea he would recommend so you can start making it at home, Marc’s voice echoes in the back of his head. “Ask her out. You said you were going to today.”

Steven glances down, at the watery refraction of Marc staring up at him from a dirty puddle on the front steps of the museum.

Marc says, surprisingly gentle, “You’re happy with her. Ask.” It's only slightly demanding in tone. Steven suppresses the urge to roll his eyes.

But his alter is right.

So, Steven stumbles to a halt nearly knocking you into the puddle.

And asks.

“Wondering if maybe you’d come out on a date with me?”

You blink, your hand on his arm where you’d caught your balance, his fingers around your other wrist.

You just stare at him, your lips parting in surprise.

Fear wells up into the back of his throat when you don’t immediately answer and he starts to stutter out an apology. “Sorry, sorry, don’t know what’s come over me just then. Just a bit taken with you, I suppose.” Steven swallows, feels the words pressing at the inside of his lips, nervous chatter threatening to break free. “You’re quite beautiful and very kind - bit inevitable that I’d have a crush on you, innit?”

You blink again, stunned, like you can’t believe what you’re hearing. “You have a crush on…me?”

“Yes, no - well, yes, I do but -,” It’s not just a crush. Crush seems like a silly little word for the feelings you make flop around inside him. Squiggly, fuzzy feelings.

“Shut up, Steven, give her a chance to reply.” Marc snaps at him, like he’s just as afraid that Steven will mess this up.

He takes a steadying breath, reminding himself that you were truly very kind, and that if you said no, it would not be the end of all he held dear. “Yes, I quite like you. You’re kind and beautiful and smart. What’s not to like?”

“Nice job.”

And for once, Marc doesn’t sound sarcastic.

His helpfulness is strange for someone who had been so against the notion mere hours ago.

Steven bites down the rest of the words swimming in his mouth, telling himself that Marc is right about this thing. He needs to let you reply.

“I, um, yeah,” you smile, almost like you’re unsure if he really just asked you, “yes. I’d like to go on a date.”

Steven stares at you, not sure he heard right. “Really?”

“Really.”

“Jesus.”

“Cheers,” Steven chirps quietly, ignoring Marc. He knows he has a goofy smile on his face, he knows that he’s just staring at you.

But you’re smiling back and Marc is strangely quiet now, a glow of happiness lingers there. Steven has a suspicion that he’s happy too, basking in the fact that you said yes.

Oh. Oh.

Maybe Marc likes you too.

He was just shit at showing it, saying it.

Maybe that’s why he’s so concerned about the breaking of Steven’s heart, because it might break his too.

“Oh,” you say, suddenly digging in your bag, still hanging on Steven’s shoulder. He shifts so you can better reach. “I got this for Gus the Second. I forgot to mention it earlier, although now is such a stupid time to be giving it to you,” you say, dipping your fingers into a pocket and bringing out a tiny replica of the Great Sphinx. “Sorry if he already has this one.”

You seem flustered with yourself, like you’re ruining a moment, when all your gift makes him want to do is kiss you.

He flustered you too, apparently.

You got his fish a gift.

Steven takes the replica from you gently, sliding his thumb along the surface. “Oh, he’ll absolutely love it.” He pauses, “You said yes, yeah? To a date? With me?”

Something about it doesn’t compute. Maybe you’ve confused him with someone else.

“Yeah,” you say. “Did you have something in mind, Steven?”

“Er-,” he hadn’t thought that far ahead, but his name on your lips is like a balm. Everything would be okay.

“Just dinner, Steven,” Marc says. “Doesn’t have to be elaborate.”

Steven doesn’t dare look down at the puddle. Doesn’t want to see the smirk on Marc’s face that he can hear in his voice.

“Dinner?” He hesitates. “Tomorrow sound good, yeah?”

“Yes,” and when he looks at you, you’re smiling. Like this was something good. Something you’ve been waiting for. “7 o’clock?”

“Brilliant.”

He tilts his head toward you, just to be a bit closer to you.

It’s still a surprise when you lean up and kiss him gingerly, your lips soft and lingering.

When you pull away, his heart is dancing and you are glowing.

Marc is hesitant to speak to you, though he would never admit it to a soul.

Steven probably knows, but he would never say so.

He’s content to watch you through the eyes of his alter. You are Steven’s girl after all.

Made of sunshine and steeped in warmth.

You are not his.

But Marc worries about you almost non-stop. He thinks about you constantly. He tells himself it's because Steven would break if something happened to you.

But he knows. He knows when you laugh at something Steven says, he knows when you show up at the flat soaked to the bone from a downpour but smiling. He knows when you break in a new pair of ballet shoes against the hardwood floor of the flat.

“You need to teach her self-defense,” He tells Steven when Marc is the one fronting.

“I’m not going to do that, Marc. She’s been safe before we met her, she’s safe now.”

Yeah, only now you know about Moon Knight and Khonshu and everything. You know everything.

Yet you never mention it, never ask.

Occasionally, you will inexplicably leave a note for Marc, stuck against the glass of Gus the Second and Gus the Second’s Friend’s tank.

Marc can’t make himself understand it, the way you leave little notes, ask Steven about what kinds of food he likes, ask how he’s doing.

Today’s note said -

There’s a performance today. I know Steven has come to plenty, but I would love to see you there.

You sign it with your name and a little heart.

“She knows you care about her, Marc,” Steven says from the reflection in the tank, Gus and Friend behind his head. “She knows you follow her home when she works late.”

“Only because you told her,” he snaps. “She didn’t need to know that.”

Steven only gives a long suffering sigh.

You know, you know that he follows your route home each night, to make sure you got there safe. And so you had taken up the inexplicable habit of talking to him as you walked. There was no way for you to know if he heard you, when he followed in the ceremonial armor on the buildings above you.

Still, you do it each night without fail.

Marc, if he’s honest with himself, does not deserve to know you. Does not deserve the notes, the home cooked meals in tupperware left in the fridge with his name written in sharpie on the side of the box, does not deserve your late night chatter and one sided conversations.

“She’s trying really hard. It hurts her feelings that you won’t even say hello to her. She isn’t expecting you to feel about her the same way I do.”

Marc doesn’t respond, unsticking your note from the fishtank instead, folding it and tucking it inside his jacket pocket.

He knows that it hurts your feelings. He sees it in your eyes every time you ask Steven about him, every time he refuses to meet you, even though he knows you, remembers you through Steven’s eyes from before Steven had been aware of him, back when he struggled to maintain Steven’s ignorance of the truth of his situation.

You don’t know him though, so he’s not sure why it matters to you.

But he catches Steven’s exasperated expression in the mirror by the door and he knows.

It matters to you, because it matters to Steven.

Not because you care about Marc.

But because he is Steven’s best friend.

And that is the problem.

Because he wants you to care about him.

“So you’ll follow her but you won’t just say hello? Marc, you could just introduce yourself and walk her home, yeah? Instead of stalking after her like a deranged bird?”

Marc ignores him, ceremonial suit slipping over his skin, mask covering his face.

“Nope. This is much easier.”

Steven only sighs again.

“I just wonder if I’m any good for you,” you admit to Steven one rainy summer evening. You are propped in the window with a book, Steven on the couch with an open text.

The air is warm enough that you leave the window open, the sound of rain and traffic drifting through the flat.

Steven turns to you, taking the glasses perched on the end of his nose off. He frowns at you, brows pulling together over the round brown eyes you’ve come to love.

He closes the book he had been pouring over. “What d’ya mean, love?”

“Just that,” you pause, trying to gather your thoughts. “I just know Marc is rather protective. And maybe if he doesn’t-,” You swallow, “Maybe I’m not really any good for you.”

Steven holds his arms out to you, and you readily cross the room to fit yourself in his arms, head tucked neatly beneath his chin. “You certainly are good for me. Too good for me.” You feel his chin against your forehead, gently drifting back and forth. “Don’t pay Marc any mind.”

“Does he hate me?” You pull back to look in his eyes.

“Now, who could hate you?”

You press a hand to the back of Steven’s neck, fingers trailing up to thread through his hair. He readily leans his forehead against yours, his warm breath ghosting over your lips.

You feel Steven tilt his head up a bit, and you know he’s watching the mirror, communicating with his alter who wanted nothing to do with you.

“Could you tell him I don’t want anything from him? That I’d just like to introduce myself? He’s your best friend and I’d just like to say hello.”

“He hears you,” Steven says. “Just being a bit of a pain in the arse as usual.”

You suppress a laugh and tilt your head back to meet Steven’s eyes, cradling his jaw between your palms, sweeping your thumb over the thin scar above his brow. “He should know I’m not pressuring him, just that I would very much like to meet him, if he felt inclined.” Steven opens his mouth when you continue, “And that he’s become rather poor at hiding the past few weeks.”

“What?”

“Just have noticed a certain caped individual on my walks home the last few weeks.”

Steven’s mouth quirks, his eyes sliding to the mirror again. “He says you have a rather keen eye.”

“Not so. It’s very hard not to notice sometimes.” As you speak Steven’s brows pull together and he frowns. “What's he saying?”

Steven glances back to you, his nose nearly touching yours. “Nothing you should worry your pretty head about,” he says, reaching up to cradle the back of your head, his lips finding yours, soft as the touch of a feather. “He can tell you himself if he bloody well pleases.”

You feel slightly reassured as Steven kisses you, tilts you back against the couch cushions and slots himself against you, fingers running shakily up your side against your sweater. You dip your hands under his shirt, laughing quietly when he jumps at the sensation of your fingers against his scarred ribs.

You feel better, at least, knowing that Steven wants you to meet Marc.

You wonder what holds him back, what holds him back from even a hello.

But Steven is kissing you and it becomes rather hard to concentrate.

~ You talk to Marc on your way home from the theatre each night.

You know he can hear you, walking on the rooftops above the streets you traverse each night.

It makes you feel safe, knowing that he’s there, knowing that he cares enough to make sure you got home.

You tell him about your day, quietly talking to yourself, drawing some curious stares but not too many. If these were the only interactions he would allow then you would make the most of them.

You think you’ve seen Marc before. That he’d come into the museum once so that Steven wouldn’t miss work. His brows had been knitted tightly together, eyes narrower, mouth a hard frown.

He hadn’t spoken to you that day, while Steven always made sure to, always.

It’s raining when you leave the theater this night, your duffle bag slung across your shoulders, hood pulled up over your head as you race down the back steps, eager to get home, to make a cup of the calming tea Steven had gotten you and sleep.

Your feet and ankles are sore and you felt like a good cry was in order.

You don’t look up as the rain pounds down, sure that your guarding protector would be there as he always was. You just didn’t have the energy to greet him this night.

Although you left rehearsal early, Marc always had a way of knowing when you left, of always being there. He was reliable, steady, even if he mostly avoided you.

Tonight though, you wish you could go home and call Steven, though you know he won’t pick up, not until morning. Steven was who you called when you needed to cry, when you needed comfort.

Steven was soft, in a way no one else you’ve ever known has been.

You love dance, but the toll it took on your mental health some days made you wonder if it was at all worth it.

Your thighs burn and your ankles ache, and you remember the way you were out of step and how the choreographer had sighed. The sound worse than disappointment and closer to condemnation. Maybe you aren't good enough to hack it in this particular dance company, and not for the first time, you think about going home.

The rain continues, drenching you to the bone. It pounds against the pavement beneath your feet, so loudly you don’t hear the footsteps trailing after you.

You duck down an alleyway, a shortcut you don’t normally take because you’d rather take the longer way around and chatter at Marc.

But you can’t be bothered tonight. You don’t even look up.

If you had, you’d have known he wasn’t there, and then maybe you’d have stayed in the safety of the theater for just a bit longer, waited until he showed himself.

One moment you’re hurrying along, the next a hand is pressed to the back of your neck, shoving you into the brick wall of the alley.

You open your mouth to scream but a knife presses to the skin of your throat. It digs in just a little as the pressure at the back of your neck disappears and your bag is ripped off your shoulder.

“Search that for me, yeah?” A male voice says before he leans into you, pressing your body into the wall with the heaviness of his own.

You hear your things being ripped out of the bag, your dance garments and tights. Extra shoes. Ballet slippers. A bag of toiletries.

“Search her, then. She ain’t got anything in here.”

Hands dig into you, rough and careless. But you don’t have anything on you, not even your wallet or phone, you know they’ll find nothing and then what?

What will be left for them to take?

The knife divots into your skin, you feel the warmth of your own blood trail down your neck.

Surreptitiously, you tilt your head up. Maybe Marc really has hated you all this time, and he’s about to let you be killed in this dirty alley.

But there’s no one watching you, and you have to wonder for a moment if anyone ever had been there, as the unknown hand gropes through your pockets and then pats down the sides of your thighs.

You wonder if you should fight.

Was it better to let whatever was about to happen, happen? Or to try to fight? To at least be able to flee?

You decide to fight when a figure appears in the corner of your vision.

One that the two men behind you apparently do not notice.

The knife disappears from your neck and your head is smashed into the brick instead.

Your vision dances, Khonshu apparently only visible to you.

“Do not worry, little bug. My Moon Knight is on his way.”

The skeletal bird you’re staring at can only be Khonshu or a terrible hallucination.

If he’s a hallucination, does that mean they already stabbed you and you’re bleeding to death?

“You are not hallucinating,” comes the booming voice of the god of the night sky. “Follow my instruction.”

Khonshu, who you have no choice but to trust as your assailants argue about whether to kill you, tilts his head.

You are told to drive your right foot directly back, then twist and punch as hard as you can.

“Then run,” is the last piece of advice before the blasted bird disappears.

You have no choice but to follow the advice, and hope Marc or Steven really are nearby.

When you drive your foot back, it connects with a knee. A strangled cry goes up as you twist and blindly punch. Your fist lands on something meaty, sending a shockwave up your arm. Bone cracks.

You flee the second the hands leave your body, and you think for just a moment that you’ll get away, that you’ll make it to the deserted but well lit street at the other end of the alley.

But fingers hook into the hood of your jacket which had fallen back off your head. You’re jerked off your feet, clotheslined jacket knocking the breath out of your lungs.

Still you manage to scream as you fall, palms scraping against the pavement, the knee of your jeans ripping open.

You roll, acting on pure instinct, driving your leg up into the gut of the man that falls on top of you to square a punch into your ribs.

“You little bitch-,”

You whip out a hand and claw his face, his friend stooping to cover your mouth as the knife appears again, shining metal gleaming by the curve of your cheek.

But something - someone - else has appeared.

Indeed, Khonshu’s Moon Knight is stalking down the alleyway behind them.

It gives you the determination to shove the man on top of you with all your strength, kneeing him between the legs as you go, the knife slices at your cheek as the man behind you says, “Oy! Stop struggling and-,”

You never find out what else you should do as the other man’s weight disappears and a fluttering white cape engulfs you.

You get to your feet shakily and when you look up, it's to meet the blinding white gaze of Marc Spector. His arm is around your waist, the cape like a blanketed cocoon against you.

“Go to the street. I’ll come to you.” His voice is American and gruff and unexpected.

“Marc-,”

But he lets go of you, spins you and pushes you gently in the direction of the street.

You go, rainwater sluicing against your skin. You hear bones snap, the sound of flesh against flesh but you don’t turn or stop until you reach the street. Cars trundle by, a few pedestrians are walking further up the road. No one pays you any mind, the callousness of strangers shocking and not shocking in equal measure.

The contrast to your fight in the alley is startling, and you feel the burn of tears at the backs of your eyes, the fingers of pressure on your throat as you hold them back.

You don’t hear anything from the alley now, but a few minutes of shivering in the rain later Marc appears, your ruined bag over his shoulder.

He crowds close to you without a word, lifting your chin with a curled finger beneath your chin. The fabric of the suit is gauzy and warm against your skin, not damp despite the rain. He peers into your eyes, focus shifting to your cheek and then neck, before he takes your hands in both of his, and examines the broken skin of your palms.

He makes a noise of discontent as he examines you.

He holds your fingers so tenderly you wonder if he realizes who you are.

“Marc?” You ask gently. “Are you okay?”

His head snaps up but he doesn’t answer, just stares at you with that furious white gaze.

“Could I see your face at least?”

He hesitates, but only for a moment, before the wispy material covering his face slides away. The humidity and rain make his curls unruly, a lock of hair sticks to the sweaty skin of his forehead.

It’s Steven, and very clearly not Steven.

You swallow, and touch his cheek. “Are you okay?” You ask again.

You regret touching him immediately. It’s likely not something he wants from you.

Steven would have leaned into your palm, but Marc goes still confirming your worry, his brows pulling together, eyes narrower than Steven’s rounded gaze.

You drop your hand, and Marc’s gaze follows your hand.

Instead of answering, Marc asks, “Do you have a first aid kit at your place or do we need to go to Steven’s?”

“I have one,” you say softly.

Marc is so very close to you, his head bent over yours. His skin is damp and glowing, eyes such a deep umber that you feel like getting lost in them. His breath falls against your lips.

You inhale sharply at the closeness, breathing in the smoky jasmine and lavender scent that lingers around him, the tang of copper just beneath. Steven smelled like tea and cotton and you wonder briefly if the fragrance is thanks to the suit.

But then he nods, all business, the rest of the suit sliding away as he pulls away and nudges you in the direction of your flat, not taking the shortcut through the alley, of course.

“Did you kill them?”

Marc stiffens, responding gruffly, “No. Just some broken bones.”

You watch his jaw clench before you carefully reach out and tangle your fingers with his again. He probably thought you thought the worst of him, that he was a cold blooded killer. “I wouldn’t have mourned if you did.” His eyes snap to yours, surprised at the brutality in your shaky voice. “Thank you for coming.”

“Where’d you learn to fight like that?”

You smile, the movement making the cut on your cheek weep blood, “I received instructions from a rather strange looking bird.”

“Khonshu,” Marc mutters. “Bastard.”

You hum, and feel the bizarre sensation of Marc Spector sliding his thumb gently across the back of your hand.

Once in your flat, Marc seats you at one of the two chairs at your tiny kitchen table in your tiny place’s kitchen.

He kneels in front of you, even though he could take the other chair, and carefully tilts your chin up, dabbing gently at the cut on your neck, then your cheek.

“Did you hear me all those nights? When I spoke to you?”

Marc nods, turning to grab an antiseptic ointment and a roll of gauze. “Yeah, I heard you.”

“Why haven’t you-,” you bite your tongue. “Never mind. You don’t have to tell me. Or, talk to me. I’ve been telling myself that ever since Steven told me the truth. You’re just very important to Steven, of course I would like to meet you.”

Marc goes still for a moment, deep brown eyes meeting yours. “Yeah, makes sense.” He finishes with your cheek and gently brushes his thumb over the column of your throat.

You tell yourself he’s checking the bandage.

But your heart beats wildly in your chest.

“You’ll tell Khonshu thank you? From me? Suppose he did actually give me some helpful advice-,”

“No,” Marc suddenly says, intense in his fierceness, the set of his features grim. “Not when its his fault, my-my fault, our fucking fault you were alone in the first place-,”

“Hey,” you take his hands and feel them shaking in yours. “It's not. It’s not anyone’s fault. It’s just something that happened. And I’m glad you were around.” You grip his fingers and don’t let him pull away until the tremors subside. “Are you alright?”

He clears his throat, suspiciously glassy eyes not meeting yours, and then goes about cleaning your bruised palms and your cut knuckles.

Marc sighs abruptly, not answering you, and turns to look into the shining reflection of your floor length mirror. “Steven says he’s proud of you.” He looks away and continues wrapping your hands, “He also won’t let me forget that I haven’t asked you if you’re okay.”

You open your mouth to reply when Marc bites out brusquely, “Are you okay?”

You smile, imagining the irritation in Steven’s voice, Bloody hell, Marc! Telling her I’m bothering you about asking her if she’s okay and actually asking her is not the same thing!

“I’ll tell you if I’m alright, if you tell me if you are.”

Marc snorts, “I can tell by looking at you.” His head twitches toward the mirror again and you know Steven must be annoying him about invisible injuries. You wait for a moment while they seem to have a silent conversation.

You stop Marc’s hands when he moves to look at your knee instead of answering. “Just a simple yes or no. Nothing more.”

He looks up at you, brows still tight over his eyes, expression stony, frowning at you so intensely you have to wonder what he sees when he looks at you. “Yes.”

“Brilliant,” you smile.

“Yes or no?” He asks you.

You brace a hand on his shoulder, pushing yourself up, “Yes. I am okay. Does Steven know?”

“He hears you,” his grim gaze drifts back to the mirror. “Sit back down, I’m not done with you.”

You pat his chest gently when he stands too, close and towering, what should be intimidating. “Yes, you are,” you return firmly. “I’m going to make some tea. Do you drink tea, or is that a Steven thing?”

“Coffee, if you have it.”

You can’t help but smile.

“We need to wrap your knee though,” he doesn’t let the injury go. “It might get infected.”

You glance down at the scrape, then at the worried frown on Marc’s face. “Shall I change first? That way I don’t just tear the bandage anyways taking these wet jeans off.”

Marc eyes your wet clothes, the way you shiver, head tilting to the side, like he’s listening.

He concedes with a nod.

Marc watches you make a cup of tea for yourself and hesitate at the coffeemaker.

He thinks for a moment that you hesitate because you’re realizing that if you start the pot, you won’t only have to wait for it to brew but for Marc to drink it.

But when you turn, you only frown at him and ask, “Are you quite sure about the coffee? You won’t sleep. I have more than enough chamomile tea-,”

“Coffee is fine.”

You dip your head and turn back to the pot.

Steven sighs, “You can let her take care of you too, Marc.”

Marc ignores Steven, refuses to meet his gaze in the shining reflection of your toaster.

He feels the bone-deep weariness creep up on him, crash over his shoulders, as you set a cup of coffee in front of him a few quiet minutes later.

“Steven pokes fun at me for my sugar habit. But this is a judgment free zone so don’t be afraid to tell me how you take it.”

Marc glances into the cup, black coffee staring back up at him.

“Sugar and milk,” he says and watches you smile, the gauze wrapped around your neck making his skin prickle.

He should have killed those men for daring to lie a hand on you. He glances at your wet duffle bag, dejectedly lying in a heap in the corner of the kitchen. “Sorry about your stuff.”

“It’s just things,” you say, wincing as you sit down across from him, setting down a carton of milk and bowl of sugar with a spoon.

He tips his head to the side to glance at your scraped knee under the table, the wince not matching the injury. Had he missed something? Though he supposes you’re probably sore after being thrown to the ground.

“It’s not that,” you say, tucking your legs beneath you on the chair. “I was sore anyways. I’m always sore from dance. I have a high pain tolerance from all the years of training. Tonight wasn’t actually the worst night of my life.”

Before he can respond, his heart sinking with your words, you continue. “That’s a neat trick though,” you fling your arms out and then around in an imitation of how he’d circled the cape around you. “Handy.”

“It’s bulletproof. Most of the time,” he says, spooning sugar into his coffee, then a dash of milk.

“Very handy, then.” You watch him for a moment before your fingers tangle anxiously together. “You know, I really am okay. Please don’t feel like you need to stay.”

“Marc,” Steven says, “She thinks you hate her. Open up to her just a bit, yeah?”

“I don’t hate you,” Marc says, ignoring the exasperated goan from Steven at his blunt response. “I don’t. And I’ll stay, for a while at least. You hit your head,” he reaches out and touches the bruise forming at your temple. He should have cut off their hands for that, broken each finger, twisted the ligaments out. “You might have a concussion,” he keeps his voice as level as he can.

You nod and swallow, “Is Steven okay? I haven’t worried him too badly, have I?”

Marc briefly closes his eyes, hearing all over again the screams of his headmate when Khonshu told them you were in danger. The force of his worry had almost forced Marc into the backseat, but he knew he was better suited to handle whatever was happening to you.

That he could steal himself and deal. With this, he could deal, after all the years Steven had protected Marc from himself, from memories better forgotten.

If something had happened to you…

“He’s okay,” Marc eventually answers, opening his eyes to find you watching him worriedly. “He was very worried about you.”

“He knows I’m okay now?”

Marc sees Steven nodding at the back of your head sympathetically. “Yeah.” He licks his lips, takes a sip of the coffee, “I can…I can bring him out if you’d rather be with him.”

You tilt your head to the side, like you’re considering it. “It’s okay. Not that I don’t want to see Steven, I do. I just…feel very safe at the moment. Maybe something to do with the cape.” You look away and take a sip of your tea.

Steven is smirking in the toaster’s reflection, smug in a way that grinds at Marc’s nerves.

The pair of you make no sense to Marc.

“You into the cape, huh?”

“Oh, only a little. I wonder if your god would give me one.” Your eyes are sparkling, you’re teasing him and it makes his chest hurt in a pleasant way.

But there was an idea Marc could get behind. Not that Khonshu would ever acquiesce.

When you finish your tea, Marc shuffles you to the couch, prepared to watch over you for the night.

You lie down, your legs tucked behind his back when he sits at the end of the sofa, like he’s familiar to you. And he supposes in a way he is, that you spend almost every evening together, despite his silence, and that you know the body he lives in.

Marc flicks through the various streaming services on your TV, resting his other hand on your knee when you won’t stop squirming.

“Hey,” he says, thumbing at your knee but not looking at you. “I know you’re okay now. But you might not be in a couple days, when the shock wears off. Takes time sometimes for something like that to catch up to you.” He squeezes your calf. “Let us know if that happens.”

“Are you - both of you? Either of you?”

His heart sinks just a little. “Yeah. Either. Both.”

“Aw, Marc, I knew you liked her! I knew it!” Steven’s hands are folded over his heart, eyes wide and round. “Go on and kiss her!”

He will not be doing that. Knows that you wouldn’t welcome that.

Instead he massages the flesh of your leg, and says, “Heat can help with muscle soreness. Do you have a heat pack somewhere?”

You turn on your back and put your feet in his lap, “Maybe. I’m okay like this for now.” You pull a blanket off the back of the sofa and drape it over both of you.

He cups a hand around your socked ankle and says, “Don’t fall asleep.” He traces the delicate knob of bone beneath his touch.

“Don’t think I could if I tried.” You go quiet for a moment, then say, “For the record, thank you. I’m really glad you’re staying with me.”

The feeling that wells up in his chest almost chokes him. Marc can only nod, and even Steven stays silent for once at the wave of emotion that crashes through them both.

6K notes · View notes

badbitxhbuckybarnes · 2 years

Photo

They both created something else to deal with their grief

41K notes · View notes

badbitxhbuckybarnes · 2 years

Text

There were only two braincells in this last scene and they were both stuck in that other sarcophagus

4K notes · View notes

badbitxhbuckybarnes · 3 years

Text

Two years?! I’m in!

180K notes · View notes

badbitxhbuckybarnes · 3 years

Note

what that mouth do

complain

437K notes · View notes

badbitxhbuckybarnes · 3 years

Note

Why do you reblog your own fics so much?

Because someone might as well!? And look at this. Look. At. This.

Does this look right to you??

These are just the last three fics I wrote. I appreciate the likes, believe me I do, but you have to understand. Likes do nothing for content creators. It’s the reblogs. Because that’s how you find shit on your dashboard. Through reblogs. Not likes. This isn’t twitter or tiktok or instagram. This is a website that’s run by the reblog system.

Reblogging helps content creators put their stuff out there. Why do you think so many people stopped writing fanfic and creating beautiful fanart and edits? It’s because they put in hours of work and don’t get nearly enough notes for their masterpieces. Yes we do this because we enjoy it but like...some validation won’t hurt. A boost of confidence here and there might be all someone needs to finish whatever thing they started and left.

Anyway, I’m still going to reblog my shit...

97K notes · View notes

badbitxhbuckybarnes · 3 years

Text

SCENARIO: You meet lifeguard Levi and attraction blossoms. Oh, and he also happens to save your life. - PART ONE.

notes: this is part of @odmlevis's summer event for celebrating 1000 followers!! i'm so happy that got to participate, thank you riz for having me <33 ilysm!! now i'm usually insecure about my work despite having a passion for writing and enjoying it buuut i sorta suffered writer's block so i think this is my worst one yet DFLGJDFJ. i still hope you all enjoy it and i'd loooooove to hear your thoughts ; w ;. i'm obsessed with lifeguard levi! also there is NO smut in this piece. there are suggestive things but the second part to this will contain the smut and i will do my best to make it exciting uwu. please enjoy and look forward to part two!! <3 also fuck small font never using it for beneath read-more.

word count: 12,500+.

content/trigger warnings: drowning, death (i mean it happens technically but don't worry), CPR, ocean danger (riptides) mentions of fear and potential trauma, lifeguard levi being mega hot, suggestive scenes but really you're just helping levi being protected from the sun, thirsty talk, a raging karen, jellyfish sting??, lost children and i think that's it! -- also i have like 10% knowledge of CPR, etc so if it's not extremely accurate for every little thing, forgive me!

A soft sigh parts from your lips. You could feel the gentle sea breeze caressing your exposed flesh and you breathe in the salty scent that lingers in the air. You watch as each small wave washes over your feet, grinning a little with happiness as you curl your toes into the wet sand. It feels weirdly soft and everything reminds you that you’re alive. That’s why you love the sea and being new in town; you couldn’t help but plan the first few days where you spend the long hours at the beach. It’s a rather nice beach, as well. The beach from your previous home town definitely couldn’t compare.

The sun is out, shining down on the visitors but it isn’t horrific with its scorching temperature. Especially with the gentle breeze masking, it's true burning potential. You could hear all sorts of chattering around you. Kids babbling excitedly as they splash salty water at each other. Teenagers sun-bathing across their towels, gossiping about their crushes. Parents watching over their children or distracted by the heat rays, trying to dodge them by staying beneath the large umbrellas that the government must provide on the public beach. Everyone is here for a reason and there’s happiness buzzing around.

You grin a little to yourself, watching as a small hermit crab is stealthily trying to crawl back to the ocean and away from the terrifying yet clueless humans. Your hands carefully come out to hover over the crab, providing it with some shade. It hesitates before slowly succeeding in its day’s mission and fading into the ocean. “Good job, little guy.” You praise despite it falling on deaf ears. With the breeze licking pleasantly at your bare flesh, you squat down to glide your fingers rather lovingly across the wave that comes to your ankles.

“Ex-Excuse me, miss?”

You hear a small voice next to you, already identifying it to belong to a small child. You tilt your head to gaze at the girl. Her face is red and blotchy from tears, automatically prompting a concerned frown to appear. “What’s wrong, cutie?” You ask gently, extending your hands out cautiously and the little girl latches onto them, her cries becoming louder, snot threatening to dribble and you look down to see that her foot is almost pale beside the striking red that comes in the form of lines. A jellyfish must have made contact with her and you gasp softly, inching closer.

“That looks like it hurts, sweetie. Do you know where your parents are?”

She frantically shakes her head and it causes moments of panic to flicker in your heart, leaving an unpleasant ache. You hated seeing anyone in pain. Especially children. “Well, you know there are special people who work on the beach! They’ll help you with your foot and help find your parents. Shall we ask them?” You ask in a soothing tone, hoping to coax her into relaxing further and not focus on the stinging pain that must be pulsating through her foot. The young girl whines, latching onto you, arms around your neck.

It surprises you but you welcome it with open arms. Physically. You wrap your arms around her frail body and hoist her up, careful to keep her close to your own body and not touching the foot covered in sting marks. Your hand gently rubs along her back, eyes wide open as you try to capture the sights of the signature red uniform that lifeguards wear. Most seem to be very far into the distance. “It’s okay, sweetie. We’ll find your parents soon, hm? All the pain will go away.” You continue to blurt out the comforting words for the little girl in your arms, feeling the sleeve of your shirt becoming wet with her tears.

You were starting to feel desperate and that’s when fate introduced itself on the beautiful beach, in the form of a male lifeguard, settled comfortably on the lifeguard chair, peering through binoculars to scan the beach every so often. The umbrella providing him with the much-needed shade and for now, preventing any threat of sweat to appear for the moment. Each step and you're reminded of the warm sand beneath your feet, gaze fixated on the lifeguard. Even with the distance between you both, your heart is starting to race with excitement. You’re at the foot of the ladder, head tilted to look at him and gosh, it was a struggle to not stay fixated on his beautifully chiselled abs but even his face made you feel like you’re drowning in gold from how gorgeous he is. Sharp jaw-line. Perfectly shaped brows. Soft lips. Smooth skin that’s begging to be marked. Steel-grey eyes looking down at you.

Oh.

He’s looking at you. The lifeguard is leaning forward, elbows resting on his knees, legs spread out slightly and the whistle dangling down his toned chest. “What do we have here?” He asks curiously, brows knitting out of concern, eyes flickering from you and to the little girl. His gaze lingering on you a little bit more than the child. You feel warm in the face, ignoring the crowds behind you and adjusting the girl in your embrace.

“The poor girl lost her parents and I think- a jellyfish?”

The male doesn’t wait for you to finish, jumping down from the high chair and with a soft thud from the sand, he lands gracefully in front of you. Instantly, his larger hands are hovering over the girl, his voice soft and tender.

“Hey, sweetheart. Is it okay if I touch you? It will help me check out your foot.”

The little girl is clinging, peeking at the dark-haired lifeguard. You find yourself surprised by how gentle he is and that he even asked for permission when most would just go out of their way to grab. She nods her head slowly, sniffling quietly. The lifeguard guides you both further beneath the umbrella that’s situated up high. He then cradles her leg with his hand. “Oh dear, that must hurt, hm? Let’s get you up to the secret base. Do you want me to carry you?”

The child’s head is nodding eagerly and you find that it’s not just you completely wrapped up in the male’s soothing tone. His eyes meet yours and you offer a warm smile, carefully handing the little girl over. Gently, the lifeguard wraps his arm around the child, cradling her head to the crook of his neck. You decide to stay quiet as you follow him across the beach, footprints left in the sand. His fingers gently brush through the girl’s hair, aiming to distract her from the pain that continues to linger.

“Jellyfish are mean, aren’t they? What’s your name, little one?”

“So-Sophie..”

“What a pretty name! We’ll call out for your parents once we reach the secret base. Stay strong, we’re nearly there, okay? It’s okay if it hurts, Sophie. That doesn’t mean you’re not strong.”

You feel warm from the male’s words, watching as the little girl calms down to only a few hiccups between her tears, glancing up to see that you’ve nearly reached the ‘secret base’. He clears his throat, looking towards you.

“Your name?”

“Y/N. Yours?”

“Mm. Levi. Did you find her?”

You frantically shake your head, hands rubbing nervously together as you recall the girl tugging on your sleeve and tears gliding down her chubby cheeks. “She found me. Well, maybe I was just the closest adult to her, I was at the edge of the ocean. The first day visiting and it’s already so eventful.” You joke lightly, hand stretching out to rest on the little girl’s head. Levi hums thoughtfully in response, now standing at the foot of the stairs towards the lifeguard lookout. One arm continues to hold the girl comfortably to his body, the free hand now gripping onto the rails.

“Welcome to the Paradis beach, then.”

A light laugh escapes your soft tiers, eyes shaping like moon crescents as you smile wide, pleased from the rather casual welcome from the handsome lifeguard. “Thanks! I’ll be visiting again. Whether to swim or save another child by taking them to a— beach professional.” You joke lightly, willingly following Levi up the wooden steps, thankful they’re not metal because otherwise, your bare feet would burn further. Levi lets out a half chuckle, amused by your words. “Just remember to apply sunscreen with each visit.” The dark-haired male mutters, nudging the door open and entering into the cool office space that contains clear windows to expose the entire beach.

Another lifeguard is sitting at the office desk, legs propped up and lips wrapped around a lollipop, lazily sucking on it. His dark brown hair tied loosely into a bun and red shorts hanging low on his hips; same uniform as Levi. “Sup, Cap’.” He slurs out playfully, swinging around to look towards you and the little girl, eyes soon focusing on the blotchy sting marks across her foot. “Ouch! Looks painful, sweetie.” The other lifeguard states, pulling himself out of the chair and walking over to you three.

He raises an eyebrow, looking at you. “We promise your daughter is in safe hands. Sit back and—“

“Oh god, I’m not the mother. She’s lost.” You splutter out, feeling flustered as you shake your head. His lips press thoughtfully together around the lollipop stick, shrugging his amusement away from witnessing your flustered moment. Levi rolls his eyes at his co-worker’s playful manner. “Eren, call through to the others. We’re looking for her parents. Her name is Sophie.” Levi orders the younger lifeguard who salutes, prompting a soft giggle to spill from the girl’s lips. Eren grins, winking towards the pair of you. “The quest begins to find the princess’ parents! Knight Levi, I leave the girl in your capable hands!” Eren grabs his cap to pull onto his head before grabbing the walkie-talkie and leaving through the door you entered. You bite back a smile, silently amused and pleased that both you’ve met are good with kids so far. You settle down next to Sophie, stroking her hair lightly and thankful from the break in the cool room.

“Tch. He’s a bit of a brat but a helpful one at that. He’ll find your parents in no time, Sophie.” Levi reassures softly, walking over to the basin where he adjusts for hot water; not too burning. He swiftly cleans his hands before tugging on a pair of latex gloves. Not necessarily needed but Levi likes to handle everything with proper hygiene and care. “Alright, little one. The—“ Levi pauses, contemplating on something. “The magical cure to this monster attack is hot water and waiting it out for the most point. Good thing you have two knights with you.” Your eyes meet with his before he adjusts her toes to rest on the chair in front of her.

Sophie pouts a little, squirming uncomfortably but she looks determined. “Okay... Okay! I can do it.” Sophie grabs onto your hand and you squeeze lightly. Levi sets an empty bowl on the ground beneath, tips of his glove covered fingers brushing along the protruding sting marks before setting the other bowl of water on the table next to him. Sophie whimpers softly, biting down on her trembling lip. Levi offers a soft smile and you feel your breath being taken away and sits down on the other side of Sophie.

“Ready, Princess?”

Sophie closes her eyes, nodding frantically. Levi holds onto her other hand and stuck between you both, Sophie finds herself feeling safe. You watch, almost fascinated when the lifeguard handles her with such care. He scoops some of the hot water with a cup before gently pouring it over the sting marks. You could feel her small fingers gripping your hand tightly as she squirms in her seat. “That’s it, Sophie. You’re doing so well.” Levi praises quietly, repeating the process. It soon becomes soothing for the stinging pain, coaxing it to become light throbs and eases Sophie’s heart.

Her cheeks are dry with tears, watching the warm water being poured consistently over the injured area. “Wah, is- is water magical?” She asks innocently, truly wrapped up in the wonder of how the warmth of the liquid could dominate the stinging pain. She even begins to wiggle her toes against the chair. Levi chuckles softly, finally setting the cup down and letting her foot air dry because he knows a towel is never a good idea for any sort of burning sensation.

“I think what makes it magical is your strength, Sophie. You’re a little trooper. You did well. Now we’ll just wait for Mister Eren to come back with your parents.” He holds his hand out and you watch as Sophie excitedly yet clumsily smacks her hand against it. Levi grabs onto it and playfully shakes it about. You wrap your arms around Sophie and squeeze lightly. “You did so well, Sophie! D’aw, I’m so proud of you!” You exclaim, prompting another giggle to bubble out of her chest.

You hear frantic footsteps outside, climbing up the steps until a couple appear, two females stumbling in. They’re sobbing out of relief, coming over to pull Sophie into their arms. “Mommy! Mama!” Sophie squeals, hanging onto them and grinning. Levi stands up and you sit back, avoiding the close sight of his toned body in front of you. Especially with the obvious v-line that leads down and beneath the red shorts. Eren bursts in, arms out wide. “Quest has been completed! I’ve found the Queens and as a reward for the pretty princess..” Eren trails off, plucking a lollipop from the candy jar and hands it out for the child.

Sophie smiles shyly, small fingers curling around the stick to pull in. One of her mothers breathes in deeply, biting down on her lip. “Thank you. Thank you for finding our daughter. We were worried sick and looking all over for her.” Both of her mothers pull her in further, clinging firmly onto their daughter. It warms your heart to see the reunion, hands hiding behind your back. The shorter male clears his throat, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s quite alright. This happens more often than you think. All I request is that when you go home, you help her have a hot bath, it will help soothe the pain even further. Just a regular jellyfish sting but she handled it well.” He explains firmly, guiding the family closer to the exit.

With several thank yous to the pair of the lifeguards and Sophie waving goodbye, they left. Eren glances towards you, smirking slightly before he moves towards the door. “I’ll go keep a watch out.” He says before leaving through the door and jogging down the steps. Silence fills the air between you both and you’re awkwardly rubbing your hand along your arm, smiling a little. “I’m glad she can go home in peace.” You exhale out softly, your body finally relaxing. You love the beach and it’s always full of surprises. Some that make you feel uncomfortable. Why? You hate when people, especially children, are distraught.

Levi’s slender fingers drag through his silky hair, stretching out and unintentionally flexing his muscles. You swiftly look away again and he’s no fool. He picks right up on it instantly. His hands stuff comfortably into the pocket of his swim shorts, face expression a little smug when you weren’t looking but it fades away quickly when you gain the courage to look at him once more. “You did the right thing, Y/N. You.. You’re a good person.” Levi decides on, not wanting to expose himself just yet on how the attraction is mutual. He couldn’t. He needs to be professional.

You feel your cheeks warm up from the kind words, opting on rolling your eyes playfully as you walk over to the door, lingering as you turn around. “You’re pretty good, too. Saving people and all. I better head home for the day but... You might see me tomorrow if you’re around on shift. I’d like to visit this beach often.” Your fingers tap lightly on the frame and Levi’s steel-grey eyes holding your gaze.

Seeing you for the second time? Doesn’t sound bad at all in his mind. Levi walks over to the desk situated in front of the tall windows, grabbing his cap. Instead of putting it on his head, Levi walks over to pull it down onto yours, hovering in front of you. “Make that a promise then and return my hat, Y/N.” Levi responds smoothly, eyes flickering down to your tiers.

A surprised whine escapes, flustered as you pull his cap further down until it manages to hide your eyes. “Oh— Okay. I’ll— I’ll see you tomorrow, Captain.” You tease the lifeguard lightly before swiftly leaving the lifeguard’s secret base and jogging down the steps. You didn’t get to see the rosy tint to his cheeks and you weren’t aware of how you now invaded his thoughts, feeding him certain fantasies already.

“Pretty..” Levi breathes out softly before shaking his head to snap out of his thoughts and walks over to settle in his seat, eyes instantly locking onto your figure through the windows. He watches as you jog across the golden sand. Tomorrow. You promised tomorrow and he’ll hold you to that.

—————————————————————

Just like you promised, you arrived at the beach the following day. The cap is comfortable and blocking out the rays of the sun. Selfishly, you didn’t want to return the cap. You wanted to keep it. Why? You know why. It belongs to the lifeguard named Levi. The one you find so irresistible that visiting the beach gives you a whole different meaning. Your mind is left wondering if you’ll stumble into him today, finding yourself too nervous to actively search for him. You could only hope. Desperately hope that fate will be on your side once more.

It’s just after 12 o'clock and you’re walking along the pavement, gazing fondly down at the beach. You recently went down to splash in the water and even leave a pattern in the sand with pretty shells that were swept up by the waves. Now, you’re craving ice cream. You’ve always been fond of keeping cool with a sweet treat. You shuffle along the pathway, the warmth of sun rays seeping into your flesh and making sure to keep out of the way of other people.

Once you arrive at the outer entrance of the cafe, you shuffle into line, gaze fixated on the menu. You lightly tap your chin thoughtfully, inspecting the variety of flavours. You could hear seagulls squawking in the distance, the sound easily lacing with the sounds of the waves and laughter. You smile widely when you finally make it to the counter. “Good afternoon! I’d like a scoop of cookies ’n’ cream, please! On a cone.” You request, pulling your wallet from your handbag. You watch as they scoop up the ice cream and gently pressing it onto the cone, making sure it’s firm before they hold it out.

“That’d be a $2.50!” The worker says with a professional smile.

You nod quickly, managing to balance your wallet between your body and arm, wiggling out your card. They prepared the machine for you and as you go to press your card against the touch screen, suddenly, another black card presses against the screen and an instant beep is heard. A soft gasp falls from your lips, head whipping to the side and your eyes meet his.

Levi. Right now, he’s wearing a uniform shirt to cover his toned body and a fresh pair of red shorts. No cap, of course. The shades on his head have pushed up some of the strands of hair but besides that, some still frame around his temples. Amusement lingers in his steel-grey eyes, pulling his card away to tuck back into his wallet. “You— You didn’t have to do that!” You exclaim, a little bewildered from where he arrived. The dark-haired male cocks his head slightly, delicately holding onto your wrist as he guides you out of the line with the ice cream. “Saw you and wanted to, Y/N. It’s no issue. Besides, you’ve kept your promise. So think of it as a reward.” Levi retaliates lightly, finally taking a sip from the takeaway cup.

Butterflies flutter in your stomach, eyes lingering on his lips that press against the edge of the cup, mindlessly taking small licks of your ice cream. You’re too focused on his face, making yourself oblivious to the fact that he’s mimicking you. His warm stare fixated on your lips, watching as the ice cream smears across your tongue, coating your lips in the sugary goodness. Ice cream never looked so tempting for the older male until now.

“Coffee for the shift?”

“No, tea. Helps me feel relaxed.”

He tilts his head briefly, silently gesturing for you to follow him back down the pathway and enjoy the beautiful scenery. You follow him obediently, falling easily into step. Two tiny steps with one long stride from the lifeguard. “Tea is good, I couldn’t resist an ice cream, though.” You sigh out softly, dragging the flat of your tongue across the creamy texture, almost having to withhold a moan from how sweet it tastes. Levi kept his head facing towards the ocean, almost sipping at his tea a bit too fast, feeling his tongue becoming numb. He couldn’t help but think to himself that you were starting to be far more too tempting than the ice cream. “Not a sweet tooth but I confess, you make it seem heavenly.” He murmurs against the rim of his lid, glancing at his watch. His break will be ending soon. You whine out softly, flustered from his confident yet sweet way with words. “Tsk, please, Levi. It’s not me at all.”

Droplets of ice cream threaten to dribble down your chin. Gently, Levi cups your chin and you stop walking. His thumb cautiously wipes away the slippery goodness and when your eyes meet his, there’s some unknown electric spark you’ve never felt before. Cautiously, he licks his thumb and finally tastes the cookies ’n’ cream before he resumes his walk. The lifeguard knows that he rarely makes bold moves but when they slip out, he attempts to behave naturally as possible. You feel weak at the knees and find yourself briefly grabbing onto his forearm to stable yourself. Your cheeks feeling so hot that you swear for that moment, you must have been the radiant sun.

The corners of Levi’s lips quirk ever so slightly, extending his arm out slightly so you could continue to use him as support. His internal excuse? Lifeguard duties. The bottom surfaces of your shoes scrape lightly against the pavement, playfully shaking your head before breathing in deeply. “Why did you want to become a lifeguard?” You ask out of curiosity, tugging his cap further down on your head. Levi disposes of his empty cup in a bin passing by before rubbing the back of his neck. Why?

“When I first saw the ocean, it made me feel free. I wanted to continue to chase that freedom and felt like others feel it when they’re at the beach. Guess I just wanted to protect others when they feel it. So I trained and now here I am.”

The sense of awe wraps around your heart and squeezes. You never expected such a breathtaking answer. You puff out some air, finally letting go of his arm. “That’s amazing of you. I love the beach but I don’t think I could ever be a lifeguard. It takes strong people to take such an emotionally and physically draining job.” You compliment happily, tongue swirling around the ice cream as it gradually becomes smaller, carefully munching away at the cone until the ice cream eventually disappears and you’re left pouting. Levi finds himself growing fond of you and this is the only second time you’ve spent time talking to each other. You especially look endearing tucked away beneath his lifeguard cap.

“It has its downsides but there’s plenty of perks. My shift resumes soon.” Levi exhales softly, pulling his dark shades down to cover his gaze and block out the burning sun. You couldn’t help but pout, willingly following him like a lost puppy, trailing down the steps. The lifeguard, being the subtle gentleman that he is, offers his hand to help you down. A simple offer but not a necessity to accept. Still, you do. Anything to feel the softness of his skin against your own. You gently take hold of it, the other hand grabbing the rail and you take each step slowly. You both were being deliberately slow to take your time getting back to the main lifeguard post, not because you struggle with stairs. It prompts an amused grin to tug at your lips.

“A pity, I find myself wanting more of your time. Perhaps I need to go pretend to drown in the ocean so you could come and swim out to me? Be your damsel in your distress for this one time?” You grin, jumping down onto the sand. Levi rolls his eyes from hearing your words, giving your hand a firm squeeze. “You will not be doing that. If you happen to be in trouble, then I’ll come to save you. Besides, it’s not like I’m going anywhere. My time is yours.” He reassures through an exhale, letting go of your hand. He stretches out the muscles in his hands, swearing he could still feel the warmth. The warmth is so pure and comforting compared to the blazing sun.

You bite back a grin, fingers lacing together behind your back and you just knew that if it wasn’t for the sand making each step of yours sink, you’d be bouncing. You watch him, fascinated. His eyes are fixated on everything around him. First, the ocean. No one is drowning. Across the beach. No issues. No fights or tears. It’s relieving for him to not having to rush and simply trail along between bursts of crowds and standing umbrellas with you. You were never away from him, able to keep up. The only issue that made his eyebrow twitch out of annoyance was a group of teenage boys leaving their rubbish behind.

“Oi.” Levi called out firmly, lifting up his shades and naturally, you shift behind him and watch the lifeguard work his magic. The teenage boys turn as if ready to give him a whole lot of shit but the death glare that the short lifeguard is sending towards them, leave them looking like deers in headlights. “Pick your trash up if you ever want to enjoy your time here again. No one leaves filth on my beach.” He warns in a deathly calm voice. They appear to choke on their spit, frantically grabbing the wrappers and empty bottles off of the golden sand before stumbling away. The dark-haired male tsks softly, pushing shades down once more. God— You couldn’t even try to ignore the deep fluttery feeling in your stomach from witnessing the lifeguard being protective of his beach and disgusted by filth. A man who loves the beach to be free of trash has easily deepened the attraction you feel towards him, cheeks feeling too warm to be just from the sun. His hand takes hold of your wrist to gently guide you back into being next to him, walking in comforting silence and your hand resting over your beating heart.

It didn’t take either of you long to reach the base and you stand on the small pavement block, a pout lingering. Is there where you had to leave him for the day now? Well, you could always come back tomorrow. You know your friends wanted to spend time with you at the beach as well. “Wait here.” Levi states firmly, walking up to the entrance of the lifeguard office that you visited yesterday to help a child.

Obediently, you stay. You stay at the very edge of the steps, silently wondering if you should return his cap. You find yourself selfish and wanting to keep it. Simply cause it meant something about him will be with you. Instantly, your hand comes up to smack against your forehead. “Acting like a damn school girl with a crush.” You scold yourself through a heavy sigh and completely oblivious to the lifeguard walking back down the steps, his shirt now off to reveal his beautifully detailed abs, one hand rubbing sunscreen along his other arm.

“Oi, stop spacing out.” He scoffs lightly, amused from seeing you react to hearing his low voice. Your head snaps up, eyes locking onto the heavenly sight of a thin white cream being rubbed into the other’s gorgeous skin. Smooth and pale, never threatened by the sun. You figured yesterday that he uses sunscreen like it’s a second skin for him. Levi is now standing in front of you, wrist angled slightly as he holds the tube of sunscreen lightly. Instantly, your hand reaches up to rest on top of it, gazing into his grey eyes.

As usual, his eyebrow arches up in question. You felt like you were under a trance as the sounds of people around you both fade out with ease and in your mind, it’s only you two standing on this small pavement block in the sand and seagulls chirping as they fly by, the sounds of the wave becoming a form of comfort.

“Let me help you. Not like you can reach every inch of your back, right?” You suggest with a sickly sweet smile creeping up onto your face. It’s almost as if you have something sinister planned but Levi is no fool. Sure, you want to help him but evidently, you also want to touch him. This is your way of asking for consent and willingly, he lets go of the tube. “Go ahead, princess. I know you probably can’t hold yourself back any longer.” Levi teases with an amused half-laugh escaping.

A childish grumble escapes you when he hears his words but really, could you even deny it? You’ve been admiring ever since he was sitting up in the lookout chair beneath the umbrella. Hell, you even loved when he looked down at you. “Just being a friendly citizen.” You joke lightly before moving to stand behind him. Blindly, you squirt some of the cool sunscreen onto your hand, placing the tube carefully on the rail to balance before you finally rest your coated hands on his broad shoulders, warm gaze steady on his toned back.

His shoulders tense up for a moment from the cold temperature of the sunscreen but he soon relaxes, eyes glancing over the beach. No one seemed to mind the lifeguard having an openly flirting moment with someone. Usually, he’d be put off physical touch with another in a public space but the excuse is that you’re just helping him. Besides, no one is looking. Kids are too busy building sandcastles to even care of two adults heavily hinting at their mutual attraction towards each other.

Levi is strict on himself but for once, he relaxes further as he feels your fingers gently massaging against his tensed up shoulders, rubbing the white sunscreen until it smoothes over his unblemished skin. You personally enjoy feeling the muscles that work so hard to save lives daily. Maybe that’s what makes him even more attractive in your eyes. The muscles alone aren’t overwhelmingly bulging. It’s just the perfect amount. Your standing close enough for your warm breath to fan across his left shoulder blade, shifting your gaze to steady his face. You swear there were flames hotter than the sun dancing in his hard stare that fixates on the ocean. What could he be thinking?

If only you knew as your hands travel. You squirt more onto your hands, not wanting a slither of his flesh to become burned by the fierce sun. The palms of your hands pressing flat against his back and gently moving along the muscles that easily melt into relaxation from your magical touch. Levi’s teeth bite down hard on the inside of his mouth, not daring to give away just how much he’s enjoying feeling your currently silk-like touch along his body and just towards the upper curve of his behind, thanks to his shorts sitting so low.

Your chin rests on the back of his shoulder, smirking slightly as you continue to stare up at the lifeguard’s face. Levi doesn’t dare to look at you, still. “So wouldn’t it be best to wear a shirt, still? Are they that unpractical?” You ask out of mere curiosity and it encourages a hard sigh from the short male’s lips. “They’re a little restrictive but honestly, I’d be for wearing them. It’s Eren who whines that are apparent hot bodies would attract more people to the beach. God fucking knows why. Mikasa agrees for Eren’s sake. Jean is competitive and wants to prove his body is hotter than Eren’s. Sasha and Connie just happily go along with anything. Armin is a peacemaker so he just agrees to what makes the majority happy. Even the one in charge of us, Erwin, is fine with it. Tch, you think visiting the beach is about seeing the ocean or something.” Levi drawls out, though deep down Levi agrees with anything as well. His squad being chilled out means less on his shoulders.

An amused giggle escapes your lips, biting back a grin. You could hear the fondness in his tone despite his open complaint. You could understand why shirts would be important but selfishly, you’re really happy that they’re rarely on. Though, you know you’d be like some animal on the heat for the gorgeous man whether he was dressed head to toe or not. “Well, I think you look lovely either way so no complaints from me.” You reassure, hands pressing against his lower back and spreading out, your grip managing to stretch out the flesh and a soft groan escapes his lips.

“My front needs working on, too. Since you’re being so kind with helping me.” He grunts between his clenched teeth. You raise an eyebrow, cheeks heating again before you eagerly guide the lifeguard to turn around. He follows the movement of your hands willingly until he’s facing you. For the moment, your bodies are so close that warm breaths form together between you. Only an inch between your lips and his. You could just lean in but, you didn't.

Boldness flows through your veins and so you lean up to whisper against his ear, tongue almost teasing with a light ticklish graze against his earlobe. “I’ll be a good girl and make sure you’re protected.” You pull away with a shy grin, noticing his eyes struggling to not widen with shock from the courage you display. You stifle a laugh, leaning back now and grabbing the sunscreen to squirt more onto your hand, soon lathering it onto both of your hands before you smack them lightly onto his firm chest. Briefly, you could feel his steady heartbeat beneath your palm before you finally took the last needed step and begin to repeat the same motion from when you lathered it onto his back. Your smaller hands glide across, rubbing the creamy substance into his skin, edging down slowly.

Your fingers accidentally brush against one of his sensitive nipples and his fingers twitch. The urge to halt your movements were strong but he pushed through. He watches you with an intense, fiery gaze. Eyes clouding with something mysterious as the pads of your fingers brush along the ridges of his abdomen, admiring the toned muscles that seem so firm in place from heavy training.

You smear the sunscreen across the hard yet soft surface of his stomach, rubbing the cream along his sides and your gaze avoids his. You could feel his soft pants against the side of your face and he seems so drunk off of your touch already, sparking confidence in you. You glance up for a moment before your now daring hands glide along the obvious v-line that leads to somewhere else.

“Such a teasing brat.” Levi mutters quietly, fingers dragging through his silky locks as he watches you, deeply fascinated. You smile innocently, tilting your head. “Just doing my civic duty and helping out a beloved lifeguard of the Paradis beach. Here— Your legs need to be done, too.” You reason gently once you finished with his upper body.

Fuck. He couldn’t believe you’d not care if anyone else on the beach was watching. Levi glances up towards the lookout, noticing Eren’s smirking face through the window at the scene he’s witnessing. Instantly, Eren backs off to keep an eye out on the beach when he noticed Levi’s signature death glare. Tch. Levi watches as you so innocently lower yourself, gripping onto his muscular thighs until your knees make contact with the concrete. There’s a temporary burning sensation across your knees but frankly, maybe you were the one who is too intoxicated from touching him cause you find yourself not giving a damn. A little pain isn’t going to scar you for life and so, you welcome it.

Levi feels almost delirious but he hides it well behind a neutral mask, eyes set on you. Usually caring for physical touch in public right out the window still. The lifeguard desperately excuses it as help. Maybe his back hurts a bit so he can’t reach for his legs. Yeah… That sounds reasonable. Perhaps not for the lifeguard who often refuses help and pleased to show he’s capable of everything but right now, he wants this. He wants to have visions painted in his mind from pleasant memories of you down on your knees in front of him. Arms cross against his chest and he leans against the rail.

You reach for the sunscreen and continue to look up. Your head is tilted back enough for the moment so he could see how your clouded gaze is looking up at him from beneath his cap that you were still wearing. Long lashes fluttering so prettily and he couldn’t help but wonder— No. He needs to stay on task. Levi shifts his knee up to brush lightly against your chin, silently encouraging you to continue. You pout slightly from not even seeing him budge in the slightest when it comes to whether he’s deeply wrapped up in your behaviour but obediently, you squirt the last bit of sunscreen onto your hands and quickly, work it into his thighs and down the length of his legs. Surprisingly, his legs seem quite long despite being short. His body is perfectly proportioned. You tenderly squeeze along his thigh muscles and even down to his calves, admiring what must be the structure of some God.

Grudgingly, you finish down to his ankles and notice his hand extending down towards you. You take hold of it, feeling the warmth spread through you and butterflies fluttering and you’re easily hoisted up by the lifeguard’s strength. You almost stumble but his swift grip onto your waist and hands resting on his chest is enough to stabilise you. A soft chuckle escapes the lifeguard and you feel his hand pulling on the cap, pushing it further down.

“Thank you, love. A saviour to a lifeguard, huh? Definitely protected now, feel like sunshine is just repelling off of my body.” Levi hums softly, grabbing hold of the sunscreen from your grasp, fingers brushing against your fingers. “Always happy to save the day but it’s your turn now to do the saving. Shall I go jump in the ocean now? Is that enough to prompt you to save me?”

Levi couldn’t stop himself from rolling his eyes, though the corners of his lips twitch slightly. It’s difficult for him to not smile when you’re being silly. “Well, I will be doing my job but don’t be an idiot and drown yourself. I better resume my shift properly now. Your teasing ways have been halted.” He sighs, hinting at the fact that your hands practically groped him happily as you massaged the sunscreen in. It’s a good thing that no one was actively watching, all too distracted by their little worlds.

You bite back a grin, hand coming up to take the cap off. You suddenly feel his fingers delicately wrap around your wrist. “Keep it. You proved to me that you keep your promises.” The lifeguard reassures, now pulling away. He needs to move to one of the furthest chair lookouts on the beach for the afternoon.

No— You didn’t want to be away from him. What was going on with you? Why are you so drawn towards him? “I- I’ll be back tomorrow! My friends want to come and we’ll be around. You’ll keep an eye out for me?” You ask, pleading with the older male with your eyes. He’s staring for a good few seconds before forcing himself to look away, hands naturally resting on his hips. Tch. He’s never been weak for someone but why is it that you could ask him to burn the world and he’d contemplate about doing it? Does this mean later as whatever relationship this is, blossoms, he’d do it? Mentally, the lifeguard tried to excuse every thought that lingered in his mind.

“Yeah, I’ll be sure to try and search for you through the hundreds that visit this beach. Don’t worry.” Levi sighs dramatically, hands resting on your shoulders to give a brief squeeze before guiding you off of the cement block in the sand. “I have to go, Y/N. Get home safely. I’ll find you tomorrow.” Levi reassures, stepping down as well. Your feet easily sink into the soft sand a little and the dark-haired lifeguard is nearly pressing up against you.

Briefly, his thumb and index finger pinch your chin lightly, leaning towards you momentarily. You feel your breath hitch from the contact, unable to stop yourself from leaning into his touch. “You make ice cream taste sweeter.” Levi murmurs. The moment was fleeting. Levi was already pulling away, his hand gripping onto his opposite shoulder to roll slowly, stretching out his muscles.

“Go home. Rest.” The lifeguard says once more before finally, he begins to jog in his desired direction. You swear you must have been in Baywatch or something cause everything seemed to slow down as you watch him with your fiery gaze, eyes lingering on his toned ass in the signature red shorts.

No— No, no, no.

You frantically shake your head to snap out of it before finally deciding to head home, walking in the same direction but already, he was far in the distance. Your fingers linger at your lips, faintly remembering the taste of the sweet ice cream and smiling to yourself. Tomorrow needs to come and fast.

——————————-

“You’re telling me that this beach is FULL of hot lifeguards but you’re only craving one of them? What about that— Eren, was it? He seems like he knows how to make you cream hard. Like— Over and over.”

Instantly, your hand smacks against your forehead, resting back against your large beach towel as you groan quietly. Your best friend always has a lovely way of choosing her words. You have the same signature cap on, tilted slightly to block out the sun, your one-piece swimsuit is a gorgeous red and maybe you wore it to feel even closer to a particular lifeguard. It’s silly. This crush of yours. Instantly developing on day one and it’s only the third day. You wondered how deeply infatuated you could potentially be in months if you’re already drowning happily in the thoughts of him.

Yes, other lifeguards exist on the beach and are incredibly hot. Eren with a cherry flavoured lollipop dangling from his lips and shades covering his eyes, openly and jokingly flirting with you and your friends before moving on to inspect the beach. Your best friend was practically drooling from the sight of his gorgeous eight-pack and that’s when you decided to tell her you were only interested in one. The one you mentioned over the phone. Levi Ackerman. Eren is hot, you’re no idiot. It’s just Levi has such a strong hold of you. Almost choking and leaving you gasping for air but that’s what you wanted. To be completely wrapped up in someone. Devoted to a man who is devoted to protecting the beach. You wonder if he’d open up to the idea of being devoted to you as well. You sigh out softly, gaze almost longing as you stare up at the clear blue sky.

“You can go chase Eren, he’s hot. He’s just not..”

“He’s not Levi.”

Your best friend sighs out dramatically, almost shaking her head in disbelief before she crawls towards you. It’s only you two on the warm sand at the moment. Your other friends are having fun splashing each other in the ocean. You watch as the other female hovers over you, eyes full of warmth. “Why don’t you try to find him later? I’m sure he’d be happy for you. Well— You’d be happy to see him. Probably would wet yourself out of exicte— Hey!” Her words are cut off with a loud laugh as you jump at her, rolling around until you’re on top.

Your fingers jab into her sides, coaxing another giggle to escape. You pout slightly, flustered from her words. “It’s not my fault that he’s so gorgeous, huh! You’d understand once you see him.” You huff playfully, pressing a dramatic kiss to her cheek. Your best friend sighs dramatically, cupping your cheeks to squish them. “You’re an absolute simp. For an older man as well. Come on! Let’s go swimming.” She grins at you, tugging on your hand. You couldn’t help but grin, always feeling energised from being around you. With your best friend’s help, you hoist yourself off of your towel, pulling the cap off of your head to tuck carefully away in your bag. You didn’t want anyone to see it and take something that you find yourself caring so much about.

With soft giggles and loud cheers, both of you sprint towards the ocean, feet sinking into the sand with each step. You both splash into the shallow waves that stroke along the sand. You gasp sharply from feeling the cold lap at your feet but you push through, running with your hand tightly gripping onto your best friend’s hand until it reaches the waist. You spread your hands out, basking into the warm sunrays and the sand beneath swirling around your feet from the constant movement. You find yourself feeling happy from the cool water against your bare skin, legs feeling even smoother when they rub beneath the water.

You flinch when your best friend splashes water at you and you lick your lips, tasting the saltiness. You narrow your eyes playfully before you jump at her, aiming to have her soaked from head to toe. The ocean acts as a resistance between you both but, it doesn’t stop the other female from escaping as you hug around her neck tightly, dunking her beneath the surface before letting go. You watch as she splutters a little once she’s above the ocean level, pouting at you.

“You’re an absolute brat, Y/N.” Your best friend whines, splashing more of the salty water at you. You stick your tongue out playfully, feeling the wind blowing your wet strands of hair gently around you. Huh. Another perfect day, you couldn’t help but think to yourself and utterly oblivious to the slowly developing rip near you; waves of water finding a lack of area to naturally pull back into the salty sea. You dip your head back into the ocean, grateful that the beach is known for being one of the cleanest on the planet. You could only assume that Levi is a heavy contribution when it comes to zero pollution.

“Y/N, is that him?” Your best friend asks, coaxing you out of your relaxed state. You carefully peek in the direction where your best friend is pointing and in the distance is indeed, the man who is holding you so tightly. Figuratively. You shift to stand up, the water reaching just above your waist, feeling a gentle pull that you only assume are the easy waves pushing out and pulling back in. Naturally, you feel hotter than before, despite the ocean keeping you cool. It’s his fault. He’s able to leave you all tingly and squirming even without being near you. Your gaze lingers on the dark-haired male who appears to have not noticed you yet but, he’s looking around quite often, more so for a lifeguard who usually fixates on an area for several moments before onto the next. Is the— No… He couldn’t be.

If only you knew. Levi’s grey eyes are searching for you. The lifeguard is dedicated to his job and so, it’s only a given that it’s natural for him to watch out for the visitors of the beach today. When his head tilts to inspect the rockpools that are forbidden to the public. There are even ropes tied off to metal poles drilled deep into the rocks and warning signs for the public to stay away. That it’s not safe with jagged rocks and nasty little critters who love to visit. Does that stop a lost child trying to climb up the awkwardly placed rocks on the side of the beach? Apparently not.

“Fucking hell, where are your parents..” Levi mutters beneath his breath, attention briefly off of the ocean as he walks the two hundred metres towards the small cliff of rocks that leads up to the small pools. “Hey, kid.” Levi calls out with a warm tone. The small boy turns around, hands gripping weakly onto the rocks. The child wasn’t going to make it far at all. Levi leans over the small child, his bigger hands smothering the child’s hands gently. “That’s not for climbing, hm? Are you lost?” When Levi asks the child, he easily guides the small boy away from the rocks and kneels. The child struggling to form words simply nods his head.

Why do parents seem to lose their children so easily? Levi couldn’t help but wonder. Sure, it’s difficult when children love to explore and are deeply fascinated by the smallest of things, like a seagull eating a fry but, really? “Come on, let’s go find them, hm? Can I pick you up?” Levi extends his arms out, offering a very brief yet soft smile. Instantly, the small boy practically stumbles into Levi’s arms, cheek rubbing against Levi’s warm chest. Levi wraps his arms carefully around the child, allowing the child’s behind to rest on his forearm before he stands up.

Levi takes his time to approach the general population of the beach, allowing the child now to ramble into his ear like an overly excited kid seems to do. His hand reassuringly rubbing along the boy’s back and instantly, his piercing gaze now flickers to a middle-aged lady storming in his direction, arms wildly swinging.

‘Tch. Great.’

“What do you think you’re doing with my son!?” The middle-aged lady practically roared as her hands launch out to try and grab hold of her child. Naturally, Levi pulls back and tightens his hold. One hand comes out to halt her movements, eyebrow arching. “Excuse me? Calm down before you hurt either of us or your child.” Levi scolds before carefully setting the child down. The small boy is holding calmly onto Levi’s fingers and his mother rather aggressively pulls her child away.

“How dare you! Are you trying to kidnap him? I’ll call the cops on you.”

An amused scoff escapes Levi, finding that blood is rushing to the tips of his ears and leaving him angry. The crowd behind the lady seems to become loud and restless and Levi needs to move on to find what was going on. He gestures to both the red shorts that are low on his hips and the whistle around his neck. “Ma’am, I’m a lifeguard and your son was alone and trying to climb dangerous rocks. How about you watch your child instead of your phone or some shit?” The dark-haired male remarks before trying to move on. The lady pushes at his smooth, bare chest, scowling. “No, no! You’re staying right here. You have no right to talk to my child! That’s the issue here, not me losing him. I don’t care if you’re a lifeguard and save lives. You’re a pervert! I’m calling the cops.”

Levi openly scowls at the stupid woman in front of him. He doesn’t have time for a raging Karen. The lady whips out her phones and begins to dial for the police. “You’re going to look like a fucking idiot when they arrive but go on.” Levi spits out, not bothering to keep his cool when he usually does. He tries to move past her but again, she pushes him back. The child whining from his mother’s strong grip. “Let me go do my job before I drag you off my beach.” He threatens with a deadly calm voice. The crowd behind the woman is even more restless than before and that’s when he notices a female stumbling towards him.

The lifeguard manages to move aside and catch the female. Her arms desperately grabbing onto his toned biceps and she’s crying heavily, face red and blotchy. “Hey, what’s wrong? It’s alright, I have you.” Levi says, managing to shove the middle-aged lady off of his back, hands gentle on the younger female. “Pl-Please, you have to help her! My best friend! We got caught in a rip and a-as she guided me out, she got sucked in further. Please!! Help, Y/N. She’s drowning!”

Levi’s blood rushes cold from hearing both the horrific situation that the older lady was preventing him from attending to and, that it’s you that’s in danger. His hand firmly grips onto your best friend’s hand to give a reassuring squeeze. “Come on. No time.” He states and when he moves in the same direction that your best friend is pulling him towards. The middle-age grips onto his forearm, trying to pull him back. “No, you’re staying here until the police come!” She exclaims in disgust. With his inability to control his temper that he’s usually perfect at and knowing you’re in danger, Levi rips his arm out of her grip, seeing red from the pure anger pumping throughout his entire body.

“FUCK OFF.”

Levi’s voice laces with your best friend’s and he glances towards her, noticing the tears still spilling but sharing the anger, obvious by her piercing gaze. The mother is shocked from having the pair yell at her, scoffing and pulling away but continues to call the cops. Whatever. Not Levi’s problem. With his hand still comfortably gripping onto your best friend’s hand, he sprints down the cleared area on the beach, sand flicking up with each movement. His heart is racing with dread, hoping that he wouldn’t be too late. This would never usually happen. Levi is the master of multi-tasking when it comes to helping lost children and saving people from danger but the conflict prevented that from happening. Stupid. So damn stupid.

“Th-There!” Your best friend chokes out, pointing out towards the previous part of the ocean that she was swimming in. The rip is a dangerous one. The pulling of waves back into the ocean rapid and aggressive. Fuck. Just in the far distance, Levi could spot your head struggling to stay above the water, arms weakly splashing before exhaustion takes over and you start to sink. The crowd is in distress and he sees Eren jogging from the other end.

“Take care of the crowd!” Levi calls out to Eren before he lets go of your best friend’s hand and begins to run directly into the rip. It’s crazy for an average citizen to do but as a lifeguard, he’s trained to face them head-on. To have a strong body that handles endurance and the heavy pull of a rip. Is it preferred to have equipment like a board when rescuing? Most definitely but alas, when there’s zero time, Levi had to take the chances and know that he’ll survive, thanks to his intensive training. Already, he feels the shallow water at his feet trying to tug him in and he sprints forward, heart racing with both adrenalin and anxiety. ‘Y/N, fuck. Please be okay. I’m coming.’ Levi thinks, diving gracefully into the pulling water. The rip embraces his body happily, wanting to pull him in deep and leave him exhausted but, with his muscles tense and swift kicks of his legs, Levi manages to meet your body.

You weren’t moving. Your body is still being dragged out to sea but naturally, Levi’s arm wraps around your waist to pull you close to him. He uses his free arm to aid himself in swimming parallel with the beach, moving sideways and further out of the rip. He could feel his body being pushed back, keeping both his head and yours above the waterline. God, he wished he had his board. His muscles strain with each time his arm drags through the resisting water, legs kicking beneath. “It will be okay, Y/N!” He calls out, being greeted by a wave that flows towards the shore from next to the rip.

Relief washes over him when there isn’t any more resistance, meaning that he managed to swim out and still have a protective hold of you. Your body is limp in his arms, floating in the water like a ragdoll. Water threatens to drip into his eyes from wet strands of hair but he ignores it as he pushes towards the shoreline until finally, his feet make contact with the soft sand of the shallow waters. He’s panting heavily, noticing Eren nervously looking back to see if Levi needed assistance but people were horrified, trying to inch closer to watch. “Everyone, back off!” He calls out, gently pushing the crowd back. Levi’s legs feel weak from the heavy use of them, arms hooked beneath your shoulders to drag you carefully up along the sand until he lays you back against the damp sand, panting softly. Instincts as a lifeguard kick in instantly and he’s going through the process to prepare for CPR.

First, he’s desperate to check for a response. Tender hands cup your cheeks. “Y/N, can you hear me?” His hands coming down to shake at your shoulders. Nothing. Fuck. His fingers gently press down on your chin, guiding your mouth to open. Carefully, he checks for any signs of breathing by holding his hand beneath your nose and hovering over your mouth. There’s no faint touch of a breath against his fingers or palm. Double fuck. Quickly, his fingers press against your pulse line in your neck and he feels nothing. This couldn’t be happening. It feels like a bucket of ice-cold water of horror was dumped all over him. He needs to stay calm. His hands tensing up to avoid the trembling.

“Eren, I’ll be starting CPR. Call in the paramedics.” Levi calls out to the younger lifeguard, not bothering to watch as he shifts himself to lean on his knees. The dark-haired male rests his palm on the centre of your chest, the fingers of his free hand easily slotting in between the gaps of his other hand. With no time to waste, he begins to start with compressions. His hands firmly pressing against your chest, pumping steadily and counting up to a hundred and twenty. A hand comes up to gently pinch your nose, the palm resting lightly on your forehead and your lips still parted.

Swiftly, two of his fingers carefully dip in to inspect that your airways are clear and you’re not choking on anything, not daring to poke in deep and once cleared, Levi inhales deeply before his lips barely press against yours and he blows in deeply until all of the air left his lungs. He then tilts his head until his ear is hovering over your mouth, gazing at your chest, watching as it falls slowly. He is quick to repeat the action another five times, lips barely pressed against yours as he blows deep amounts of air into your lungs.

The crowd is restless, trying to peek around both Eren and another lifeguard who has arrived. “The paramedics will be here any moment, Levi!” Eren calls out, arms extending out to block. Your best friend peeking from behind Eren, clearly in distress. The dark-haired lifeguard takes note of what he heard but continues, his hands coming back to the centre of your chest, beginning the next set of compressions, panting out between each push down onto your chest.

Suddenly, you splutter out the water that was trapped in your lungs, droplets mixed with saliva splattering across your face and your eyes scrunched tightly before you inhale sharply, desperate for oxygen. Your chest is screaming at you to relax as your heart races hard. Not wanting you to choke further on the salty water, Levi carefully rolls you onto your side, one hand on your waist and the other gently patting your back, making sure not to be too rough. His own heart is racing, in time with yours. He feels beyond relief. Happy. Thrilled. Hell, even concern and anger. Anger towards a certain old lady holding him back because if she didn’t, the threat of your life wouldn’t be on the line. Still, he’s so damn relieved. Adrenalin causing his body to shake as you roll onto your back once more, breathing deeply as if you haven’t breathed in so long.

Everything is confusing and you flinch from hearing loud cheers around you. Your best friend pushing past Eren and stumbling towards you. Instantly, Levi’s hand extends out to halt her from touching you. “Careful.” He warns gently and you blink slowly, eyes flickering between you both. What.. happened? Your short-term memory is momentarily unstable. “Stay still, Y/N. The paramedics will be here soon.” Levi reassures, glancing up to scan the crowd. Already, he could see a pair of paramedics rushing towards the scene, carrying a portable stretcher between them.

“Wh-What happened?” You manage to cough out, a hand coming up to rub at your aching chest. Tenderly, Levi’s thumb strokes along your cheek, gazing down at you. He’s silent for a moment, deciding on his words. “Consider me selfish but, I had to bring you back to life.” He mumbles softly, looking off to watch the paramedics set the stretcher along the damp sand. Naturally, your eyes widen from the news and vaguely, you begin to remember some details. Being caught in the rip. You pushing your best friend to encourage them to swim parallel to the beach, only for the salty water in front of you pushing you back and soon enough, you were frantic. The panic taking over the knowledge you have of dangers on the beach.

You drowned and Levi rescued you. He breathed life back into you on the shore, people anxiously watching. Tears prickle at the corners of your eyes, face scrunching up and weakly reaching out for him. With ease, Levi takes hold of your hand. “Just keep on breathing in deep. Do you feel any sharp pains?” He asks softly, glancing towards your best friend. She’s sniffling softly, wiping at her face. “No, feel okay. ‘M not too good but alive.” You mumble softly, using your free hand to reassuringly stroke along your best friend’s bare thigh.

The paramedics squat down on either side of Levi, already kicking in to check your vitals. “She’ll have to come to the hospital for a checkup. She might be able to go home tonight if everything is all good for the next few hours but we have to be sure. If you’re able to leave your shift, please attend with us. She might still be facing trauma and health problems.” The paramedic to Levi’s right states, satisfied with your condition for the moment. Naturally, Levi pulls away for the moment, offering your best friend to stand up. “Can you collect her stuff for me? I’ll have her call you.” He asks softly, resting his hand on the female’s shoulder to give a reassuring squeeze. “I’ll take care of her.” He says, backing up with further reassurance.

Your best friend is sniffling, suddenly hugging tightly around the middle, hands pressing against his bareback. Awkwardly, his hands hover above her back, not wanting to make her uncomfortable. “Thank you for saving her. I’ll— I’ll go get her stuff.” She states before rushing off, not wanting to waste time. You were watching the entire time, tears threatening to spill still. The paramedics were carefully moving you onto the stretcher, insisting for you to relax and not strain your body further. Even when you insisted you were okay with walking.

You continue to watch. Levi discussing things over with Eren and the other lifeguard, noticing heads nodding eagerly and gesturing for Levi to go. There was no time for Levi to even grab a shirt, still, only in the signature red shorts, hair wet from the ocean and droplets of water gliding along with his lean figure. The paramedics lift the stretcher off of the sand just as Levi takes hold of your backpack, swinging it onto his shoulder. The crowd parts to allow you to be carried away with no issues and your hands come up to cover your face, wanting to fade away from the humiliation you felt, not wanting to be in public’s attention as they whispered around you.

Your mind is like a fierce whirlwind with thoughts, still facing disbelief that you ended up drowning despite desperately trying to escape, only for Levi to breathe air back into you and jumpstart your heart back to beating. You barely processed that the stretcher slides gracefully into the back of the ambulance and the lifeguard joins you, settling down next to you. You flinch slightly from the slam of the ambulance doors, one paramedic in the back with the pair of you.

“Y/N.” Levi calls out for you softly, scooting to the edge of the metal bench. Instantly, your hand grasps around his, slotting your fingers through the gaps of his and looking towards him. If it wasn’t for this man right next to you… You wouldn’t be part of this world anymore. It’s overwhelming. Heart clenching with so much relief and adoration for the older male. A small hiccup escapes you, bottom lip trembling and tears now spilling down your hot cheeks. The dark-haired male’s gaze softens, ignoring the existence of the paramedic and uses his free hand to come up, cupping your cheek.

Carefully, his thumb brushes away the tears. “You sa-saved me.” You hiccup out quietly, tilting your head to nuzzle against the warmth of his palm. “Well, it’s my job after all.” Levi jokes lightly, his palm squishing your cheek as he drags his hand along until his slender fingers brush through your locks, hoping to ease the tangling from the salty water. You giggle softly, shaking your head. “Don’t do that again.” The older male sighs out softly, his hand appearing to not be able to stop touching you as it smoothes down your bare arm, eyebrows knitting together to form a frown. You feel confused, mirroring his frown.

“Don’t. Don't put someone else before yourself again when it comes to your life.”

In reality, Levi understands why you did it. It was your best friend and since day one, Levi could tell you have a heart of gold and an incredible amount of empathy. Still, it brings pain to his heart. The thought of losing you. If it wasn’t for your best friend grabbing his attention, who knows what would have happened. His hand holding yours is gripping tightly. If that raging Karen was just doing her job as a parent, he would have saved you instantly from the dangerous rip. He cares about you.

You smile softly, chest rising and falling slowly. Your chest is aching less, not clogged up by water anymore. “I had to. She’s my best friend.” You mumble softly, ignoring as the paramedic inspects your vitals once more, just allowing them to attach you to whatever. You don’t care to pay attention, even if you’re grateful for them taking care of you. Levi pulls both of his hands away, trembling fingers dragging through his tousled hair. His heart feels heavy with dread. “I know, but fuck. Y/N. I was scared. I'm rarely scared and yet I was so fucking scared that I didn’t get you in time. I mean, I didn’t. You died for the moment and if I wasn’t trained in first aid, who knows what would have happened. I’m just glad you’re here. Fucking Karens distracting me.” He groans out of frustration, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Butterflies are born in your gut, fluttering wildly from hearing his words. You couldn’t even pay attention to the roasting words about middle-aged women. He was scared to lose you? Was the attraction mutual? Were you both developing feelings ever so slowly or, was it just because it’s his job. You could only assume that he was feeling guilt from not getting to you in time. With a huff and your arms trembling, you attempt to hoist yourself up until you’re sitting. “Hey—“ The paramedic starts, only to stop with a sigh and deciding to allow you to sit up. They adjust the back levels of the stretcher so you could rest your back against it. You mumble your gratitude before you bend slightly to face Levi.

“Come closer.” You huff, pouting. Levi rolls his eyes dramatically before he willingly moves forward until his crossed arms are resting on the rails. “I’m sorry for scaring you, Levi. Thank you for saving me. I love the beach and I— should have seen signs but I was too oblivious, having fun with my best friend. It’s important to me to keep her safe but I promise I’ll be careful, nn? No more danger.” You promise and despite your body feeling so weak from exhaustion and trauma leaving you rattled, you bring your hand up to cup both of his cheeks. They feel so warm against your palms.

His half-lidded gaze is fixated on your face, silently wondering in pure awe how you could be so pretty despite what just happened. The corners of your lips form a tired yet genuine smile. You like him. You do. Even before he became your hero and saved you. Levi relaxes himself to rest his face in your gentle hold, gazing into your eyes that he finds so beautiful. Not that he’d say that so openly. You nervously lick your lips. “Can I kiss you?” You ask through a soft squeak, positioning your body to keep the silent paramedic hidden. No one will ruin this for either of you.

An amused chuckle escapes his tiers, pleased from you being the first to ask. “A kiss from a gorgeous girl? How can I deny that? Go on, baby love. Kiss me.” The lifeguard mutters, leaning in. The pet name warms your heart, making you feel like you’re swimming in a pool of gentle gold. You smile towards him before completing the gap and press your plush lips onto his soft tiers. Your breath is stolen away once more for the day but this time, you wanted it. You shift your hand to the back of his head, nails scraping along the light buzzcut before fingers thread through his damp hair. You pour all of your gratitude and deep attraction for the older male into the kiss.

For that moment, Levi accepts affection with ease. Even when someone else was in the moving ambulance. For him, everything around just faded to black. Your lips managing to have a hint of sweetness despite swallowing salty water. His arms stay comfortably crossed against the rails of the stretcher, tilting his head to the side and deepening the kiss. Tiers fitting so perfectly together, moving in sync and savouring the taste of each other’s lips. Addicted already. His fingers tighten around the rail for the moment as he holds himself back, not wanting to completely devour you just yet.

You find yourself feeling light-headed. Probably the curse of drowning only recently and so, you pull away with a soft pant. Levi gaze is holding fondness, the pad of his index finger resting against your forehead and pushing you back until you’re resting with your back against the thin mattress of the stretcher. “Tch. Now rest. I don’t want you to push yourself.” Levi warns, leaning back. You pout slightly. “Honestly, I feel fine? I don’t think going to the hospital is needed.” You try to reason through a soft whine. Really. You feel fine. Perfectly alive. Maybe a little frazzled, guilty, scared and exhausted but, you’re fine. Levi shakes his head. “That won’t work on me, Y/N. Come on, it will be good for the both of us if you rest.” He says, arching an eyebrow as if daring for you to retaliate. You didn’t.

Comfortable silence fills the air. Only the sounds of gentle beeping and wheels against the road. You feel like the happiest person right now, despite the terrible experience. Deep fear still lingers but you’re relieved that at the moment, you could think about his lips against yours. That feelings are mutual. You’re grateful for the escape.

“Do you want to come to a bonfire this weekend? I’ll be there. The other lifeguards as well. You can bring your best friend.”

You blink from hearing the sudden invitation, turning your head to look at him. Steel-grey eyes are staring right back at you, prompting your cheeks to feel warm, looking down at your hands. “I’d like that.” You confess breathlessly. Pleased with your response, Levi relaxes, one leg crossing over the other. “I’ll send you the details once you’ve been discharged, love. For now, do get some rest. You’ve had a rough day at Paradis.” The dark-haired lifeguard insists, intense gaze warning you to just accept and behave.

You nod your head obediently, not daring to whine for even a second and settle comfortably in the stretcher, finding comfort in the butterflies in your stomach. It was near impossible to hide the smile that blossoms across your visage when you feel the warmth of his hand enveloping yours.

You find yourself thinking that your version of heaven on Earth comes in the form of Levi Ackerman and thank god, you’re alive on Earth.

---

359 notes · View notes