#mickasa ackerman

It was one about you, actually—at least, speculation about Nanowraith’s most recent comments about Spiderman’s supposed girlfriend. There was an extremely unflattering image of you hanging off the Freedom Tower, but your face was too blurry to be recognisable. It was so zoomed in that all you could see was a blur of pixels, for which you were grateful. You hadn’t done your makeup that day, you scoffed.

“Looking for Eren?” 

You turned, and Jean was there, his headphones around his neck and a can of coke in his hands. He leant against his own doorframe, giving you a sideways smile.

“Oh, yeah,” you said, suddenly feeling like you’d been caught doing something really sneaky even though you really hadn’t been.

“Think he went out,” Jean told you, jerking a thumb in the direction of the door, “Don’t know where, though. Sorry.”

“It’s alright,” You shook your head with a small smile, “I just wanted to check that he was okay after he ran off at the party that time.”

In fact, you’d been swamped with worry over the past few days that you hadn’t seen Eren. He’d largely been missing, and his responses had been very few and far between whenever you tried to text him. You had hoped he’d be at home at this time of night, and so you’d made the trek over to his sharehouse after your late evening classes at uni.

“That was weird,” Jean agreed, “He’s been holed up since then. I think he’s been really sick,” he frowned, “probably went out to get some fresh air.”

You mirrored Jean’s frown. That had been something you’d considered, too. He really had been acting weird that night, and you felt a fresh wave of concern wash over you.

“Alright,” You told Jean kindly, “Thanks. I’ll see you at our lab tomorrow!” Jean gave you a mock salute and you shut Eren’s door softly before making your way back out of the apartment. When you stepped outside, the cool night air greeted you and you exhaled, feeling a bit resigned. You were exhausted after your class, but had lugged some snacks in your bag that you’d intended to gift to Eren, especially since you’d deduced he must’ve been feeling sick.

You supposed you’d just eat them yourself. Sighing again, you shut the front door behind you and then wove your way through the all-too-familiar streets. The traffic was quieter than usual, though you it was really late. When was the last time you’d been out this late at night?

The thought suddenly chilled you to the bone. The memories of your previous villain encounter crept upon you unwillingly, and you started to shiver, the wind suddenly feeling icy against your skin.

Crossing your arms around yourself, you sucked in a breath and quickened your pace, keeping your eyes and ears alert—

“It’s dangerous to be out this late, you know.”

Whipping around and wielding your phone and keys as a weapon, you opened your mouth to scream—the voice was too close, and you subconsciously began to plan the route to the nearest police station—

When you saw who it was, though, you breathed out and lowered your arms.

Spiderman.

Dangling from the roof of the next building, the superhero slowly swung the short distance to join you where you were. Instinctively you stumbled back a little, shocked to suddenly be so close. Tall—Spiderman was really, really tall.

“Spiderman,” you managed, regaining your balance as you willed your heartrate to slow.

“That’s me,” he said cheerfully.

“What are you doing?” You eyed him warily, suspiciously, “Is there a villain here?”

He gave you an affronted look, “I’m the friendly neighbourhood Spiderman. Am I not allowed to hang out around the neighbourhood?” The two of you began to walk, and suddenly you realised how grateful you were that he’d shown up. Immediately, your earlier worries and anxiety had dissipated. Having a superhero around was very handy like that.

You snorted. Again, you were reminded with how strange it felt to hear the very same guy who beat up supervillains be so casual around you. At that thought, your mind rewinded to the memory of him being slammed into the concrete by Nanowraith so hard that the concrete had been smashed.

“Have you been doing okay?” You decided to ask, breaking the brief silence.

“Of course,” he said immediately. His reply was a little too fast, though, and you gave him another pointed look.

“Okay, yes, I got the shit beat out of me,” Spiderman relented, rubbing the back of his neck almost sheepishly, “But I got better! Clearly.”

You took a good look at him at that, silently observing his expression. There wasn’t much out of the ordinary—he looked pretty much the exact same as he always did. Leaning in a little, you did notice some scuffs on his suit, evidence that his fight had been real, and recent. He also seemed to have a bit of a limp which he was clearly trying very hard to hide, so you didn’t point it out.

“I’m glad,” you replied, jabbing him a little with your elbow, “I wouldn’t know what I’d do if I got kidnapped and you were out of commission.” The two of you walked at a very comfortable pace, and it was strange how familiar it felt, even though you were walking home with a complete stranger. Well, not a complete stranger, you reminded yourself, again picturing the way he’d snatched you out of the sky just a few nights ago.

“I’d never let that happen,” he promised, the white eyes of his visor widening earnestly.

“You can’t possibly be there for me every time.”

“Watch me,” he huffed, “You can count on me. Really.”

You couldn’t help the appreciative, fond smile that made its way to your face. You were glad for this short distraction from your mountains of worry about school and then about Eren, too.

“Where were you headed?” Spiderman said, clearing his throat. He peered into your tote bag, “Are those snacks?”

“Oh, yeah,” you said with a shrug and a sigh, “My best friend’s been out of it, so I went to see if he was home.”

“You were gonna give him these snacks?” He reached into your bag and picked out the top packet. They were Eren’s favourite—the sourpatch kids, but specifically in the berry mix flavour.

You nodded, “You can have them, if you want. I’ll get more tomorrow, if he’s home then.” It wasn’t any trouble, really. After all Spiderman had done for you, you really thought he deserved to take the candy, if he wanted. Did superheroes eat candy, though? You pondered, as Spiderman returned the sourpatch kids to your bag.

“It’s alright,” he said amicably, “I wouldn’t want to take it away from the intended recipient,” he smiled, a bright thing, “Your friend is lucky to have you.”

“I’m lucky to have him.” 

Spiderman was silent for a bit, and there was only the sound of your unsynchronised footsteps for a moment. Your thoughts returned to Eren, imagining where he was now. Was he wandering the streets alone? The image made you frown. Someone so sick shouldn’t be out at this hour.

“I’m sure he can handle himself,” Spiderman patted your shoulder, “You shouldn’t worry too much.”

“I know,” you relented, “I just miss him, a bit.”

“A bit?”

“A lot,” you amended. 

“He must be sick,” Spiderman suggested, “Otherwise he’s just being a dick, by ignoring you.”

You laughed, “You don’t even know him.”

“I’m the friendly neighbourhood Spiderman,” Spiderman insisted, “I know everyone and everything that happens in the neighbourhood. It’s my domain, you could say. Besides, I have a bit of a sixth sense, if you know what I mean.” He tapped at his temple, and you couldn’t help but giggle at his antics.

You hummed. As you turned the corner onto the street of your dorm building, you told Spiderman, “I just live here. Should be good to go up, so you can go take care of the other neighbours in the neighbourhood.”

He laughed at that. Still, he stayed until you’d made it back, and waited until he saw the lights of your dorm switch on through your window before swinging off into the night.

***

eren’s perspective

Eren felt like a royal dick now. Slipping through the window of his bedroom and shutting it behind him, he swore under his breath as he ripped off his mask and took off his suit, changing into his regular pyjamas. How the fuck had he missed your visit by mere minutes? You’d even made the effort to come over after your late classes, and he had chosen that time, of all times, to go out for a walk?

You’d looked so down, too, when he’d first seen you. Scared, too, and the idea made him feel a little heartbroken. Of course, he knew it was partially—if not totally—his fault that you were in so much danger these days. He could hardly look at you without becoming overwhelmed with guilt.

He had been careless, drawing so much attention to you. Now, he had no choice but to keep doing it just to keep you safe, always keeping his spidey-senses active to make sure that you wouldn’t be taken without him knowing by some fuckingcriminal.

Then, he’d seen the snacks in your bag, and his heart had broken more. You’d picked out all of his favourites. Even the ones that he knew you hated but ate just for his sake, like the mini mint chocolate Kit Kat bars.

His knees buckled a little as he hit the edge of his bed and threw himself over his unmade covers. Truth be told, he’d been mostly passed out for the past few days after being beat into the ground by Nanowraith. He’d hit his head really hard, and any normal human would probably have cracked their skull and died on the spot.

Thankfully, he wasn’t any normal human. And also, he’d purposely updated his suit to be able to take on insane amounts of impact, so it mostly hadn’t been a concern. At the end of the day, though, he was still a human, and he could bleed just like one, too. He had broken too many bones to count in the most recent scuffle, and it had taken him everything he had to not pass out on the scene and flee in time. Thankfully, Armin lived close enough for him to go to his dorm and get patched up.

It didn’t take much for him to heal—ever since being bitten by that spider, Eren had healed remarkably fast, and so after sleeping for a day or two, his bones had fully fused back together, and his bruises were gone. He was left with a bit of a limp in his leg that he was pretty sure you noticed, but had been nice enough not to point out.

Groaning in frustration at himself, he pulled up his phone and opened up your chat history, quickly typing up a message:

hey if ur free tmr afternoon, can i come over?

He pressed send, the message delivering almost immediately. His fingers hovered over the keys before he finally added an extra message: